Isolation (Forgotten Vengeance Book 2)

by M. R. Forbes

  It took nearly another hour for Hayden to get the surviving deputies prepped for their new roles under Chief Ranger Hicks and the new Chief Deputy Barnes. Of course, Hicks had begged to come north with them to remain part of the fight. Hayden had been tempted to grant the request, but he could see how Hicks was favoring his wounded arm. That in turn had pushed Hicks to ask for an augment, which Hayden had denied. They had brought the botter station and a crate of augments with them, but they didn’t have the time to wait on its installation, and Pyro didn’t have time to do the install until she finished repairing the access lift.

  All the delays had left them short on time, with the odds that they could beat Krake to the old northwest city diminishing with every passing minute.

  “Remember your duty,” Hayden said, standing at the head of a group of twenty of his original deputies, plus thirty more hastily enlisted volunteers. Hicks and Barnes stood on either side of him. “Stay strong. Be proud. Dismissed.”

  The group in front of him was still for a moment. Some of them remained red-faced, still embarrassed by their failure in Sanisco. Others were upright and as proud as Hayden hoped they would all become, eager to continue to defend the citizens who had joined the convoy.

  Bale was the first to step forward from the group, approaching Hayden. “I know I let you down in Sanisco, Sheriff,” he said. “I froze in the middle of the fight, and I’m lucky to be alive. I won’t let you down again.

  Hayden looked the former stablemaster in the eye, meeting his resolved gaze, and nodded, clapping Bale on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Bale. I know you’ll do the right thing this time.”

  “Thank you, Sheriff,” Bale replied. Then he turned and headed for the entrance to the hangar.

  A few more volunteers and deputies came up to him, whether to apologize, thank him or to simply offer words of encouragement. They knew he was headed north to confront the alien threat, even if they had no idea what the true scope of the threat would be.

  Once they were gone, Hayden turned to Hicks and Barnes. “The upper bridge is inaccessible to people, but probably not to xaxkluth, trife or reapers. Tell Chandra I want that bridge taken down as soon as she has access.”

  “Pozz, Sheriff,” Hicks said.

  “The shaft is probably the easiest point to defend. Two full squads with another two on standby should hold them. If it doesn’t, the second defensive position is the corridor leading toward Metro. Barnes, Hicks knows where that is. With any luck, we’ll have time to activate one of the lifts in the landers for a quick escape. At that point, Chandra will seal the hangar blast doors. One small way in, and we can seal that off too.

  “If the enemy manages to get to the second defensive position and you can’t hold it, fall back through the main seal into Metro. That will keep them out indefinitely. Understood?”

  “Understood, Sheriff,” Hicks and Barnes said.

  “Good. Dismissed.”

  “Good hunting, Sheriff,” Barnes said.

  “Kick their tentacles for us,” Hicks added.

  They turned one way. Hayden turned the other. He crossed through the mass of vehicles forming a half circle at the front of the hangar’s entrance, heading toward the Parabellum in the rear. Caleb emerged from beside the tanker truck at the halfway point, and they walked together through the gathering of stunned civilians, who offered thumbs-up and quiet waves of encouragement as they passed, remaining silent so they wouldn’t draw the attention of any trife, xaxkluth or goliaths that might be nearby.

  “I feel like a hero,” Caleb said, eyes shifting to look at the people. “Like I’m something special.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head, Colonel,” Hayden replied. “None of us are more of a hero than the next guy.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. A hundred years from now, they’ll be slinging folktales about Sheriff Duke and his unstoppable arms.”

  Hayden smiled at the statement. “If they aren’t riding a conveyor belt right into a Relyeh Ancient’s mouth.” He was surprised when Caleb’s face lost its hint of life, and the Marine looked away. “They don’t really use conveyor belts, do they?”

  “I don’t know, Sheriff,” Caleb replied dryly. “I hope not.”

  Hayden’s stomach churned at the statement. Not that it had ever settled. Every waking minute in this nightmare twisted his gut into knots.

  Nathan was waiting at the top of the Parabellum’s ramp with the rest of the Centurions arranged behind him, combat helmets tucked under their arms.

  “Where’s Max?” Hayden asked, looking for the Intellect.

  “Not on board, as far as I know,” Nathan replied. “I figured he was with you.”

  “No,” Hayden said. “Where the hell did he go?” He turned around, looking for the AI. Considering their earlier conversation, the Intellect’s disappearance didn’t look good.

  “He might be in the shaft with Pyro and Lutz,” Caleb suggested. “Helping them with the repairs.”

  “Sheriff, we’re already way behind schedule,” Bennett said from behind Nathan. “We don’t need to be looking for Max.”

  Hayden continued scanning for the Intellect for a few more seconds, but he didn’t see him anywhere. “I’m not missing my shot at Krake because Max is late. If I know him, he’ll find a way to catch up.” He continued onto the ramp. “Tell Isaac to get this bird in the air.”

  “Roger, Sheriff,” Nathan said.

  Hayden reached the top of the ramp and turned around. There was still no sign of Max. He glanced over at Bennett, positioned near the door controls. “Close it.”

  “You sure?” Bennett asked.

  Hayden hesitated a moment. He couldn’t imagine where Max had wandered off to, but he wasn’t sure he would trust the Intellect now if it did return. “Do it.”

  Bennett hit the controls, and the ramp began to ascend.

  Hayden continued watching the world outside until the rear door had completely sealed shut. “I don’t get it,” he said softly, remaining fixed in place as the dropship started to vibrate in preparation for lift-off. “He wanted to be part of this. Why would he disappear?”

  “Maybe it got cold feet?” Bennett suggested. “Or maybe it went to contact the enemy and tell them we’re on our way.”

  “It did no such thing,” Max said, emerging from the shadows behind the machine that assembled Nathan’s powered armor. The combination of the darkness and his Skin had rendered him nearly invisible. “Forgiveness. I was processing. Hahaha. Haha.”

  “Processing what?” Hayden asked.

  “The possible outcomes of confronting Hanson, based on a range of variables.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What were the results?”

  “We were victorious in twenty percent of the simulations.”

  “That’s not a big number,” Nathan said.

  “It doesn’t matter,” Caleb replied. “I don’t care how advanced the Axon are. There’s no way to calculate the outcome of a small-scale insurgency. Too many unknown variables, and no way to accurately account for the strength of the team or the power of the human spirit.”

  “Agreed,” Hayden said, shifting his attention to Max. “I’m just glad you didn’t miss the bus.”

  “I wouldn’t miss this for anything. Hahaha. Haha.”

  49

  Nathan

  Nathan leaned back in the dropship’s command chair, his eyes shifting to the displays toward the left side of the pilot’s station. He could see the first hint of Seattle in the distance, a disc at the top of a thin spire visible just past the lower foothills of the mountains they were descending.

  Even though it took more time, Nathan had insisted on bringing the Parabellum into the high atmosphere before dropping toward the city, bringing the dropship down out of range of earthbound sensors. They intended to make a more standard assault approach like they had been taught in the simulators on Proxima. That meant bringing the craft to within fifty kilometers of Seattl
e before swooping downward at a hard angle that would admittedly put a lot of strain on the human body.

  The Centurions on board could handle it. So could the Earthers and of course, Max. They were all trained fighters. All warriors. Humans, an Axon Intellect and human clones from different planets and different circumstances, they were gathered together for the same purpose.

  Nathan didn’t give a thought to how Max would deploy. He was pretty sure the Axon Intellect could jump from altitude without anything to slow his descent and still survive the impact. What Axon tech he had already seen and experienced kept him in a state of wondrous fear of the race. Space folding portals that allowed them to cross vast distances as though they were walking through a door. Artificial intelligences that could both disguise themselves and cause potentially fatal hallucinations. The quantum dimensional modulator—a seemingly infinite power source that had protected Edenrise for nearly one hundred years—powered the Parabellum now. Even the Skin Caleb Card wore—virtually identical to Max’s, with its projection system, shields and energy weapons—was Axon in origin.

  Nathan couldn’t imagine what a true war against the Axon would be like. In a way, he almost feared fighting the Axon more than he did the Hunger. He was thankful the Axon seemed satisfied to maintain a secret garrison here, ready and waiting to thwart the Hunger in their efforts to control the planet. On the other hand, would things be easier had the Axon seized the planet for their own, the way Tinker had wanted? Would humankind be better off with the Axon as their overlords, rather than in this position of clinging to survival? They had their freedom as it was, but they were sacrificing many lives to maintain it.

  “General,” Isaac said, his tone telling Nathan it wasn’t the first time Ike had tried to draw his attention.

  “Yes, Sergeant Pine?” Nathan replied.

  “We’re making final approach. You probably want to suit up.”

  “Is the target still on track?”

  Isaac glanced at the sensor grid in front of him. “Confirmed. Right on schedule.”

  While something the size of a person was challenging to pick up on sensors at high altitudes, something the size of an old Cadillac giving off a distinct signature from an electric motor wasn’t. The Parabellum had located the single vehicle headed north from the upper atmosphere, capturing Krake’s path and velocity toward the city. A few calculations had put them an hour ahead of the Axon’s arrival, which had afforded them time to finalize their plans and get themselves into what they hoped would be the optimal positions.

  Assuming the whole thing wasn’t a trap.

  Nathan unbuckled himself from the chair and hopped to his feet. Ike was right. He only had a minute to get to the hold and into his armor before the Parabellum entered its secondary drop. He needed to be secured below before that happened.

  “You know what you have to do?” Nathan double checked. He had already gone over Centurion drop sequences with the Marine, explaining and showing him how they were trained to hit targets with tactical squads. It seemed reasonable to say and do, but the truth was that every military action on Proxima was simulated and controlled, run through a virtual reality system called CentBase. Other than Rico, none of the Centurions on the ship had been in real combat before arriving on Earth. Every minute of experience they had accumulated was predicated on a machine learning algorithm guiding fake combatants. Or through team-based scenarios run against one another. They had handled themselves well so far, but this would be their truest and toughest challenge.

  He didn’t hold any pretense that they would all make it through this alive.

  “I’m good to go, General,” Issac responded.

  “All right, Sergeant, you have the bridge,” Nathan said, reaching the exit.

  “Roger, General. Good hunting.”

  Nathan headed down to the hold. The rest of the team—Sheriff Duke, Caleb Card, Max, Rico, Bennett, Lucius, Drake, Jesse and Spot—was already assembled and waiting. All of them except Max and Caleb were in combat armor. Sheriff Duke continued to wear his worn duster over his armor, a silver badge pinned to the duster over his left pec. Bandoliers of large caliber revolver rounds criss-crossed his armored chest beneath the duster, and he wore a gun belt, a revolver strapped to each thigh. Another belt was strapped around his waist, loaded with small, black metal spears—copies of the same weapon Caleb had used to kill the large xaxkluth. The glasses Natalia had made for him obscured his eyes. A leather thong tied to their temples and wrapped around his head secured them in place. Hayden was determined not to lose them again.

  It was an interesting look, and Nathan understood why Hayden used it.

  With buckets on, it was much harder to tell the combatants apart. The Sheriff wanted the enemy to know which one he was and what he stood for. Just looking at him, with his cyborg augments, was a sobering sight, even for Nathan.

  “General on deck!” Rico announced.

  The Centurions snapped to attention. So did Caleb. Hayden and Max turned to face him, offering respect without deference. Not that he was a real general, as ranked by any formal military structure. The rank had come with the replacement of his clone-brother James when he became the leader of Edenrise. Before that he was a Captain in the Space Force on Proxima, and Rico knew it. It was complicated, but as far as official Space Force records were concerned he was still the highest ranking officer in the group.

  “At ease,” Nathan said, heading over to his armor, separated into multiple pieces and suspended by robotic arms. “Strap in. We’ve got sixty seconds to ingress.”

  “Yes, sir!” the Centurions snapped, moving to secure themselves along the bulkhead.

  Nathan stepped back into the armor, his weight activating the machine. It dropped the alloy shell around him, quickly bolting it together and trapping him inside.

  “Nate,” Hayden said, walking over to him with Max at his side. “Max says he upgraded your armor.”

  “Upgraded?” Nathan replied.

  “A single coating of nano-cells,” Max said. “And an update to your user-interface.”

  “What does that mean in plain terms?”

  “You’ll see,” Max replied. “Hahaha. Haha.”

  Nathan glanced at Hayden, who shrugged. “You’ll see.”

  The machine dropped his large helmet over his head. It clicked into the body armor before screws sealed it together, and the Advanced Tactical Combat System booted up.

  “My source code was encrypted,” Nathan said, activating the external speakers. “You shouldn’t have been able to change it.”

  “Negation. I bypassed the encryption,” Max said. “It was a moderate challenge. Whoever created the algorithm was fairly intelligent. It also allowed me to gain access to your comms.”

  Hayden trusted the Intellect, but Nathan was barely piggybacking on that trust. He wasn’t convinced Max was ultimately on their side. The fact that the Axon had messed with his armor right before the drop wasn’t sitting well either, but there was no time to do anything about it.

  “General Stacker,” Isaac said. “Do you copy?”

  “I copy,” Nathan replied. “Linking the Parabellum to the general comms.” He squinted his left eye to control the interface, putting the Parabellum’s commlink into the group channel so everyone could hear Isaac through their helmets and he could hear them. He was tempted to try to locate Max’s changes, but there was no time to explore the interface.

  “We’re fifty klicks out.” Ike said. “First drop in t-minus forty seconds.”

  “Roger, Parabellum.”

  The plan was simple. The group would split into two teams. Alpha Squad would drop south of the city and pick a location along the highway to set up an ambush to hit the Axon on its way in. Beta Squad would come down near the spire to the north and work its way south, with the goal of distracting whatever forces Hanson had waiting so Alpha Squad could take Krake by surprise.

  The challenging part for Alpha was to maintain enough distance from Krake that the Axon co
uldn’t use its neural weapon against them while remaining close enough to take out the alien without damaging the interlink.

  The challenge for Beta was to put up enough fight to keep the enemy inside the city occupied while that happened.

  They had discussed approaching the ambush as a single unified force, but that tactic was decidedly risky. Hanson already knew they were coming, and would be trying to stop Krake from making it through the portal. Krake had to know it too. While the enemy might not see the dropship make its maneuvers, they couldn’t rule out that their opponent was one step ahead, had accurately estimated their time of arrival and was already lying in wait. If that were the case, they were heading straight into an ugly situation. If that were the case, it was better to engage in an urban assault in the ruins of the city rather than get bunched together in the more open area near the highway.

  The primary objective was to recapture the interlink. Destroying Krake and surviving the fight were both secondary, and every one of them understood it—even Sheriff Duke, who had every reason to prioritize killing the thing that had murdered his family.

  And then there was Delta Squad. The wild cards. Their mission was to complete the primary objective if something happened to Alpha and Beta before they could carry out their orders, even if they had to fight the enemy head-on.

  Nathan stepped out of the machine, his armored foot echoing off the deck. “Sheriff Duke, you’re almost up.”

  “Pozz,” Hayden said. He looked over at the Centurions secured to the bulkhead. Alpha Squad—Rico, Bennett, and Drake—was already closest to the rear ramp. “Looks like we’re already in position.” He headed for the first place in line.

  “Parabellum, any sign of enemy activity?” Nathan asked.

  “Sensors are clear, General,” Isaac replied.

  “That doesn’t mean they aren’t out there,” Caleb said. “Reapers don’t register on standard sensor sweeps.”

  “They don’t show on infrared?” Isaac asked.

  “Not if they’re static.”