Survival Aptitude Test: Rise (The Extinction Odyssey Book 3)

by Mike Sheriff

  “She’s going into labor!” Daoren said, voice taut with rising panic. “We need to break contact and get her into shelter!”

  Hyro slung her rifle and tugged the tactical tile from her bianfu. She raised its screen to her lips. “This is Commander Hyro al Takeda, calling any Jireni loyal to Unum Daoren al Lucien! We are in contact with enemy forces at the Hollows and need immediate assistance!”

  CANG FROZE, MID-STEP. The unmistakable chatter of sonic rounds and percussive thump of glass darts echoed off the adjacent façade. The din resonated among the structures, making it difficult to assess the range and bearing of the source.

  Bhavya swiveled her head back and forth. “It’s close.”

  Yongrui turned a slow circle, sonic rifle held at the ready. “Where’s it coming from?”

  Bhavya cupped an ear and tilted her head. “Less than two thousand feet to the south.”

  “That’s near the Hollows,” Cang said.

  “So we know where it’s coming from,” Yongrui said, “but who’s doing the shooting?”

  The tactical tile in Cang’s bianfu crackled. A stress-charged voice gushed from its speakers. “This is Commander Hyro al Takeda, calling any Jireni loyal to Unum Daoren al Lucien! We are in contact with enemy forces at the Hollows and need immediate assistance!”

  “There’s your answer,” she said. “Prepare to move!”

  “Tarry!” Yongrui said. “I’m all for helping Commander Hyro, but what’s our plan?”

  “Our position is on the cloister’s southern boundary, near the memorial plinth,” Hyro said. The crack-thump of sonic rounds obscured the next few words. “—enemy Asianoids and Jireni located at the southwest corner near three levidecks.”

  Bhavya scrunched her face. “Enemy Asianoids?”

  Cang muted the tactical tile and checked her rifle’s power level. “We’ll hit them hard and fast from the rear, then link up with Hyro and the others.”

  “Shouldn’t we contact Hyro first?” Bhavya glanced down at her mongrel bianfu and held out her arms. “If I saw a group of mongrels heading my way, I’d assume the worst and fire upon them.”

  “The enemy may have compromised the tactical frequency,” Cang said. “We could lose the element of surprise.”

  Yongrui and Bhavya traded grim looks. Cang’s patience reached its limit—every second they delayed could mean the demise of the Unum and the Zhenggong. “If we broadcast our intentions, the enemy will engage us the moment we arrive. I’m wagering Hyro won’t fire at us once she sees we’re culling the others.”

  The other Jireni grunted their assent. Cang took her position at the head of a tactical column. “Let’s move!”

  HAI CROUCHED TO the right of his brothers behind the levideck’s armored shield—the only available cover. Ten feet forward of his position, Yaochin and three Jireni did the same. Two more Jireni lay prone on the cloister’s gray slabs, bleeding out from head wounds. They’d been culled by sonic rounds while still mounted on their levideck.

  Min leaned to the side and fired an extended volley. His sonic rounds skimmed the cloister’s southern boundary and homed in on the concussive flashes emanating from the distant memorial plinth. He righted himself and huddled behind the levideck’s shield. “You’re certain it was Daoren?”

  “And the Zhenggong,” Hai said. “The woman looked pregnant.”

  “Where did they go?”

  “They’re hiding in among the tubes. We’ll need to cut them down.”

  Min’s eyebrows arched. “I thought we had to take him alive!”

  “I meant the tubes.” Hai leaned sideways and aimed his rifle. His sonic rounds mowed down thousands of memorial tubes, channeling a wide path through the dense rows and columns.

  Three glass darts smacked the armored shield, inches from his face. He shifted left and glanced to the side.

  Gan cowered beside Min, facing the opposite direction, fingers jammed in his ears. His sonic rifle lay on the ground, untouched since the contact began.

  The pathetic sight infuriated Hai. “Pick up your weapon and defend yourself!”

  Gan rocked back and forth on his haunches, shaking his head. His eyes suddenly widened. Hai twisted his torso and followed his brother’s startled gaze.

  Two hundred feet away, a pack of mongrels broached the cloister’s southwest corner.

  “Are they with us?” Gan asked.

  Hai pivoted to the advancing pack and squinted.

  The lead mongrel bore Asianoid features—ones that were both familiar and unsettling. It took a few more seconds to make the connection. “It’s Commander Cang!”

  Gan reached for his sonic rifle. Another rifle chattered before he lifted it off the ground.

  Two sonic rounds struck Gan’s chest. The impulses exited his upper back.

  Blood and bone fragments spattered Hai’s cheek. He blinked to clear his vision.

  Gan lay five feet away, his chest a gaping maw of red gore. More sonic rounds shattered the slab next to his body.

  Hai rolled to the side, placing the levideck’s raised platform between him and the deadly volley. “Contact to the rear!”

  Min, Yaochin, and the other Jireni whirled to the new threat bearing. None returned fire before Cang and her mongrel imposters reached them. Hai buried his head in his hands as the surrounding slabs shuddered and exploded.

  When he raised his head again, Cang and her men had already stormed past on their way to the plinth. He nudged Min and pointed out the retreating targets. “Hit them while they’re still in the open!”

  Min slumped onto his back and convulsed. Hai gaped at his brother’s writhing form.

  A sonic round had sheared away a huge chunk of his left cheek. The wound’s upper boundary encroached on the eye socket. Min’s right eye bulged—it flicked from side to side as he spasmed.

  Hai recoiled from the gruesome sight, choking on a slug of scorching bile. He abandoned his brother and dashed forward to join Yaochin. She huddled next to the lone Jiren who had survived the sweeping attack.

  Hai tossed his sonic rifle aside and snatched the Jiren’s collar. “Do you have a sound cannon?”

  “Yes, Trium!”

  “Give it to me!”

  The Jiren unclipped the tubular cannon from the levideck’s platform and handed it to Hai.

  He hoisted it onto his shoulder and peered through its optical sight. No sooner had he lined it up with Cang and her infiltrators when Yaochin grabbed the cannon and tugged it off-axis. “You’ll cull Daoren if you miss!” she shouted.

  He backhanded her across the face. The strike drew blood. “I don’t care!”

  Hai realigned the optical sight, held his breath, and squeezed the trigger.

  THE THUNDERCLAP SEEMED to emanate from inside Daoren’s head, directly behind his eyes. An instant later, a shrieking blast wave hammered his body, buffeting his shenyi. He raised his head the moment it had passed.

  Heqet gaped at him, face a contorted mask of pain. Beyond her, Hyro and Su staggered closer, the remnants of shattered tubes crunching beneath their feet. Hyro rattled her head as if to clear her mind. “We have to move you out of here before they launch another sound round!”

  Daoren snatched Heqet’s lapels and hauled her to her feet. She leaned forward, unable to stand upright. He didn’t know if her crooked posture was due to labor or a wound, but he had no time to verify the reason. Hyro and Su led them out into the open.

  Aesic and a group of Jireni huddled behind the crystal plinth, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. Ten feet from their position, an elongated crater gouged the cloister’s gray slabs. Dead denizens and Jireni lay beside it.

  Hyro issued a harried order. “Give us covering fire while we move the Unum and the Zhenggong into the southern structure!”

  Aesic and the surviving Jireni fanned out and adopted prone firing positions. Daoren grabbed one of Heqet’s arms, Hyro the other. Su took a deep breath. “Ready?”

  Daoren cupped Heqet’s cheek and gaz
ed into her eyes. “No matter what happens to me, you must keep going!”

  She winced and nodded. “The same goes for you!”

  He looked to Su. “We’re ready!”

  “Covering fire!” Hyro shouted.

  They broke out onto the open ground. No sooner had they taken five running steps when a throaty whoosh resounded in the distance. Daoren flinched and glanced to the right.

  A toroidal vapor trail streaked past a line of advancing mongrels.

  He shoved Heqet and Hyro to the ground without breaking stride, reacting on instinct. The supersonic sound round angled downward and struck a section of slabs, twenty feet to his right. It detonated a split-second later, catching him upright and flat-footed.

  A solid wall of slag-hot air slammed into his body. He tumbled head over feet, seemingly suspended in space, before landing on his back. The impact expelled every molecule of oxygen from his lungs. He gasped for breath, chest throbbing like it was sheathed in barbed wireglass, and raised his head.

  A sparkling white shroud had descended over the cloister. Twenty feet away, Heqet’s unmoving form lay upon a bed of crumpled slabs. Ten feet from her, Hyro and Su rested on their hands and knees, shaking their heads.

  Movement to the right snared Daoren’s hazy focus. He watched with chilling detachment as Aesic dashed from the plinth toward Heqet. The slabs around his feet spat gray plumes of pulverized ceramic. A hundred feet beyond him, a group of mongrels charged closer, weapons glinting.

  Daoren struggled to swallow—his throat felt like it had been scalded by boiling water. He willed himself to stand, but his mind no longer controlled his limbs. The effort only thickened the ethereal shroud. He squeezed his eyes shut, but the white light grew ever-more intense. He lowered his head.

  One thought burned through the noxious glare, its stark conclusion strangely comforting.

  So this is how my life ends. . . .

  CORDELIA NOTED THE thump of another distant sonic blast—the second one in less than a minute. Prior to that, the muffled chatter of personal arms had floated over the Librarium’s grounds for several minutes. The din emanated from the north, but she couldn’t say how far.

  “It sounds like someone’s being culled,” Asla whispered.

  “Let’s hope it’s more Asianoids,” Cordelia said, voice hushed.

  She would have preferred to scream the sentiment out loud. She’d been stuck with Asla and Kimye in the structure’s shadow for fifteen minutes now. The archway leading out of the Librarium lay one hundred feet to the southeast. It may as well have been one hundred miles. A strongpoint of armed Asianoids—thirty in total—stood before it. Five Hexalite levicarts rested on the sandstone grounds near them. She cursed their ill luck, especially after experiencing such a long string of good fortune.

  They’d exited the medical facility in a much stronger position than when they’d entered it. They’d culled every Asianoid in the facility after rendering them unconscious—and liberated three sonic rifles for self-defense in the process. The dead Asianoids had provided another gift.

  Purple armsashes.

  The armsashes were obviously being used to help distinguish friend from foe, and they’d so far proven effective in the dark. When the sun rose in a few hours, however, they’d do little to disguise Cordelia and Asla’s lineages. Kimye would still look the part of an insurgent thanks to her Asianoid roots.

  Asla motioned to the levicarts. “If we could get a hold of one of those, our odds of reaching Rhyger’s Cliffs would improve.”

  “I can foresee two problems,” Cordelia said. “The Asianoids will likely object to giving us one, and none of us would know how to operate it even if they didn’t mind.”

  “I know how to operate a levicart,” Kimye said, voice lilting and cheery. “My mother taught me how.”

  “That’s wonderful, child,” Cordelia said, more to humor the girl than anything else. “Did she also teach you how to overpower a superior force?”

  Kimye glanced at the Asianoids before returning her focus to Cordelia. A look of solemn determination set upon her face. Before Cordelia could react, she stepped out of the shadow and into the open.

  Asla reached for Kimye’s shenyi. Her fingers brushed its fabric, but failed to find purchase. Kimye set off toward the strongpoint.

  “Kimye, get back here!” Cordelia whisper-shouted.

  She ignored the plea and quickened her pace. Cordelia watched—heart thumping in her throat—as Kimye approached the Asianoids, sonic rifle held at the ready.

  “Sapient Sha,” Asla said. “What’s she going to do?”

  Helplessness seared Cordelia’s throat. She had no idea, but her imagination conjured graphic images of the girl trying to cull thirty Asianoids with one volley.

  Ten feet from the strongpoint, Kimye halted and raised her hand in apparent greeting. One of the Asianoids split away from the group and walked over to her. His dart gun glinted as he slung it over his shoulder.

  The pair exchanged unheard words for close to a minute, then the Asianoid waved her toward one of the levicarts. Kimye strolled toward the vehicle like she hadn’t a care in the sterile world.

  Asla gasped. “I can’t believe what I’m seeing.”

  Nor could Cordelia. As she looked on, Kimye opened an access hatch and entered the levicart’s forward cabin. Seconds later, the vehicle’s gimbaled varinozzles powered up. Its hullform rose from the ground and inched forward, gaining speed as it carved a wide arc.

  Cordelia gauged the turning radius. If Kimye executed it perfectly, the aft end of the levicart would be out of the strongpoint’s view as the vehicle passed. She held her breath and petitioned Sha to guide Kimye’s hands.

  The petition worked. The levicart lumbered past them, its bulky cabin and hullform masking the aft end from the Asianoids. The rear hatch swung open.

  Cordelia and Asla raced out of the shadow and scrambled inside. The hatch closed and latched behind them. They picked their way through the empty troop compartment and entered the forward cabin.

  Kimye beamed at them, one hand on the steering yoke and the other on the throttle-control. She craned her neck and peered over the dash.

  Cordelia leaned over Kimye’s seat and kissed her brow. “How in Sha’s name did you convince that Asianoid to let you take a levicart?”

  “I told him I’d been tasked to pick up two thousand pounds of food for our comrades in the Spires, but my levicart had broken down. I promised him two hundred pounds of the best wares if he let me borrow one of his.”

  “How did you come up with that idea?” Asla asked.

  “My mother always said the best way to keep the troops happy was to keep them well fed.”

  “Remind me to kiss your mother when we meet up with her,” Cordelia said.

  Kimye nudged the throttle-control forward and angled for the southern archway. “Where should I go once we’re outside the grounds?”

  Cordelia settled into the passenger seat while Asla mounted the central jump seat. “Head west, child. Toward Rhyger’s Cliffs.”

  17

  A Different Path

  JULINIAN ENTERED THE antechamber located off the main chamber’s western wall. Two Jireni on the other side of the doorway came to attention, rattling their dart guns against their body armor. She dismissed them with a casual flick of her fingers.

  What the antechamber lacked in size and opulence, it made up for in isolation and quietude. Her uncle had used the space to take frequent naps during his reign. If memory served, she’d even snatched a few hours of sleep in here over the years. She would have opted for a brief respite now if the lone divan had not been occupied by a special guest.

  Fifteen feet away, Heqet lay on her side upon the crystal divan, clad in a white pienfu. She faced the adjacent wall, unmoving save for the steady expansion and contraction of her torso.

  Julinian synched her breathing with her guest’s. The divan and floor had been cleaned since she was last in here, four hours ago, but the fle
shy scent of amniotic fluid and afterbirth still tainted the air. “Are you awake?”

  Heqet rolled onto her side and propped herself up on an elbow. Her belly was noticeably thinner, her eyes noticeably duller. She swiped a finger under her nose, taking a lifetime to meet Julinian’s gaze.

  She’d arrived at the Assembly less than twelve hours ago in the company of Trium Hai and Primae Jiren Yaochin. Heqet was fortunate to have made it even that far. Hai would have culled the former Zhenggong at the Hollows—such was his rage over the death of his youngest brother—had Yaochin not intervened.

  If Daoren had been culled or captured during the fighting, Julinian would have been only too happy to let Heqet and her infant son die. Unfortunately, the usurper had slipped away. She now needed the child and the former Zhenggong—though Heqet hardly looked the part anymore. Five hours of labor had erased every aspect of regality from her visage.

  “My, my, my,” she said. “Not so glinty now, are we?”

  Heqet opened her mouth to speak. A croaking rasp escaped, followed by a flurry of coughs.

  Julinian pointed at a glass bottle atop the side table. Heqet snatched it up and tipped it back, draining half its water in three gulps. She lowered the bottle and hung her head, evidently inspecting her new garment for the first time.

  “I hope you don’t mind the white pienfu,” Julinian said. “Technically, you never passed your S.A.T., so a shenyi wasn’t suitable for your social station—let alone a mianfu like this.”

  She executed a slow twirl, showing off the stud-encrusted garment her Jireni had liberated from Heqet’s abode hours earlier. “The cut’s a little big for me since I’m without child, but I can get the waist taken in. I had to get it cleaned as well. It reeked of undeserved privilege.”

  “My baby—”

  “Is in good hands,” she said, waving of the question. “Mind you, they’re mongrel hands . . . and you know what they do with infants.”

  “I want to see him.”

  “And so you shall—just as soon as your husband arrives.”