“You didn’t talk to her.”
I looked down at my hands.
“I know you stopped to see her. The eyes in the sky told me.”
I just nodded, not overly keen on sharing that I’d simply stood outside our building for fifteen minutes before finally resorting to a string of short, vague messages explaining that I’d reconsidered the Legion’s offer and that we’d talk about it soon.
I fully intended to have that talk. But I needed to do this first—to keep moving until I was sure I had enough momentum to avoid falling back into the pit of my own pathetic wallowing. I also needed to make damn sure that, if I was going to step back on the board and paint a bright red target on my chest, Elise wasn’t anywhere near me when the slugs started flying.
I’d lost enough loved ones.
“She knows what she needs to.”
“I don’t know, broto.” Johnny pointedly waved his palmlight. “The not-so-subtle threats of testicular peril kinda suggests otherwise.”
“I didn’t say she was happy about—”
“Citizen Raish,” Dillard called, snapping me back to the transport cabin, where everyone was suddenly watching me with eager intent. Dillard stepped up and offered me a civilian issue handgun to go with the bulky yellow armor that marked me as a civilian should any enemy combatants care to take pity and honor the rules of war. “Your armament, citizen. Now if you and Legionnaire Wingard could stow the storyvid drama and prepare for landing, we’d all appreciate it.”
Another round of chuckles, all directed at me.
Heat rushed to my cheeks—embarrassment, anger, and an urge to telekinetically pin Ordo Dillard to the wall all warring for dominance. The weapon was an insult more than a tool.
I should have taken it anyway.
Instead, I patted the pommel of one Carlisle’s daggers. “All set, sir.”
Dillard scowled and thrust the handgun at Johnny, grip first. “See to it your friend doesn’t die and embarrass the company, Wingard. You two are with Fireteam E.”
“Yes, sir,” Johnny said, taking the gun without hesitation and handing it to me a what were you thinking? look as Dillard moved on.
I shrugged and wordlessly tucked the handgun into my gear vest.
I’d known I wasn’t going to make many friends, muscling my way into an operation that just about everyone besides me—and maybe Johnny and General Glenbark—thought was a goat-gropping waste of time and resources. That said, butting heads with the ordo wasn’t going to do me or anyone else any favors.
Of course, Glenbark could’ve given her ordos instructions to operate on the assumption that I wasn’t just a softsteel-sipping civie, but I got the impression she wasn’t too happy about my maneuvering either. And even if she wasn’t miffed, she didn’t strike me as the type to tell her people what to think or who to respect—only what to get done.
Which meant I’d just have to compose myself and act like someone these legionnaires might actually take seriously.
The transport slowed, veering downward as we approached the perimeter wall and the large, rectangular main building at the front of the complex. It was stout in the back half and ten floors high in the front—the same ten floor rooftop where I’d fought my first raknoth, Alton Parker, ex-CEO of Vantage.
Hopefully, today would go more smoothly.
As we cleared the wall and the transport began to descend, I brought my palmlight to life, thinking to swipe a quick message to Elise. After a moment’s hesitation, I closed it again.
We’d talk soon enough.
Telling her the details probably wouldn’t worry her less anyway, nor would revealing operation details to another civilian be likely to impress anyone who might find out. Then again, if Alton Parker actually had uprooted his operation from the lab beneath Vantage, I was probably going to lose whatever credibility I might have with Glenbark anyway.
An unexplained weapon discharge. That was what had gotten under Glenbark’s skin just enough for her to humor my wild suspicions. No injuries, no other mishaps. Just a single weapon that shouldn’t have been fired, and not a single recollection as to why it had been.
Perhaps this had been a stupid move. But what else could that forgetful legionnaire have shot at?
The complex certainly looked dead out there. But these were the same raknoth who’d infiltrated the highest offices of both the Legion and the Sanctum. How hard would it have been to confound one search party?
Probably a lot less hard than moving all the equipment. Alton Parker or any other raknoth could’ve easily hopped into as many minds as need be and convinced them they’d seen nothing but an empty room where it counted.
The transport jostled to a landing.
Time to go find out, one way or another.
“You’re sure about this?” Johnny said.
I stood and patted my sad civie armor. “Just like old times.”
One of the nearby legionnaires turned a skeptical glance my way.
“Yeah,” Johnny said. “That’s kinda what I’m afraid of.”
The twenty legionnaires of first squad were already sweeping neatly and quietly down the ramp to the Vantage yard.
Johnny picked up his rifle and gave me a look. “Just don’t try to be a hero in there, okay?”
I frowned. “When did you become the worrier?”
“Right about the time it somehow became my wrinklies on Elise’s chopping block if anything happens to you.”
“So not fair,” I said, trying to grin.
I don’t think I managed more than a grimace as my mind turned to what it would do to Elise if something actually did happen to me after I’d run off like this.
At least I was more durable than normal, all bundled in fiber weave and unwieldy plate armor. A little too durable, I decided as I tromped through the main cabin on Johnny’s heels, feeling clunky. Alpha forbid I ended up needing to move fast enough to fight a raknoth.
If anyone was still listening to a word I said after this operation, I was going to have to see if the powers that be could rustle me up a good armor skin.
Ordo Dillard’s squad formed a perimeter as the other transport landed to divulge the second squad of Hound Company. For the most part, everyone pretended like Johnny and I weren’t there as they went about their business and moved in on the main entrance. Everyone, that was, except for our compatriots in Fireteam E, who eyed us—or me, at least—with skepticism, distrust, and irritation as we approached.
I eyed them back, two solid-looking men, one slender steel whip of a woman, and a heavy gunner whose burly proportions reminded me of Phineas—if Phineas had grown twenty years younger, leaned out, and then eaten another Phineas.
I considered introducing myself—unnecessary as it was—but the woman pointedly ignored my attempt at eye contact and waved the fireteam forward with a silent hand signal. Johnny and I traded a shrug and fell in with them.
Whatever they may or may not have missed, Viper Company had left the main doors unlocked.
When I’d first infiltrated Vantage, the halls inside had been sterile, all spotless glass panels and immaculately organized lab equipment. Now, the powerless facility was barren under the beams of Hound Company’s lanterns. The floors, once pristinely scrubbed, were dirty and heavily scuffed.
The place was dead. But that didn’t stop the cool tingle whispering at my back.
Someone was watching us.
Or maybe that was just the feeling of desperation creeping down my spine—some baseless hope that I hadn’t been wrong to push for this operation. I found my pendant and dialed my cloak out as far as it’d go, casting my extended senses into our surroundings, taking care not to fall behind or get in anyone’s way.
It was hard, picking out anything meaningful through the considerable interference of the thirty-plus soldiers moving through the building all around us. Scanning large areas with my extended senses wasn’t something I’d had much practice at. It was a problem not unlike dilution. The wider I threw my
net, the vaguer the details got, as if I only had a finite amount of mental presence and I had to choose where to spend it.
Even so, I caught flickers here and there. Tiny life forms—rodents, maybe?—flitting about. And in the walls and the foundations, the subtlest of vibrations, so weak I was sure they’d be imperceptible to my flesh.
And there.
Power. Electricity.
It was faint—not the direct, crackling buzz of power lines or running machinery, but the tingling whisper of distant electromagnetism.
“You got something?” Johnny asked quietly.
I opened my eyes—hadn’t even realized I’d closed them. Johnny was gently guiding me with a hand on the shoulder, having apparently noticed me leaving the driver’s seat, so to speak. And so had our friendly fireteam, I surmised by their suspicious stares.
“Electronics below, I think,” I muttered to Johnny, dialing my cloak in and withdrawing my extended senses.
That didn’t ease the stares.
“What’s the holdup?” Dillard asked, appearing beside us seemingly out of thin air, watching me with evident distrust. “Edwards?”
“Civie says electronics below, Ordo,” rumbled the heavy gunner—Edwards, apparently.
“However the scud he arrived at that mystical observation,” muttered one of the others.
Dillard eyed me warily, waiting for me to explain myself.
“Nothing certain yet, sir,” I said slowly. “But it feels like something’s still down there.”
That earned a round of mutters and a dark frown from Dillard.
“Let’s get to the central lifts,” he finally said.
No one argued.
By the time we reached our destination, one of Hound’s fireteams had succeeded at restoring the facility’s powers. We arrived at the fully lit atrium with the five mag lifts that had almost cost me and Carlisle our lives last time we’d been here.
Had they been repaired since then?
It seemed so. Though I doubted that meant they’d be willingly taking us all the way down to the cavernous hybrid breeding facility that was marked neither on the lift controls nor in the Vantage building plans. Still, I held my tongue as Ordo Dillard discussed the plan with Ordo Carter, his counterpart from Second Squad.
Armored as we were—and armed as they were—it was an uncomfortable squeeze to fit even five legionnaires per lift car, so we split up, one squad descending to the lowest floor to work our way up while the other squad worked their way down on the stairs, one sublevel at a time.
The Legion inspector’s passes happily granted us lift access to the “lowest” level, S5. A few moments of stomach wobbling descent later, we drew up a floor short of the actual lowest level and piled out at S5. I didn’t mind the momentary stop, though. It gave me time to process what I felt when I clicked my cloak off to enable me to reach far enough below.
Hybrids.
Dozens just in the first few columns of breeding cylinders alone, none of them moving save for… were those humans I felt walking around down there? Yes. Three humans, and at least a couple hybrids patrolling the—
I nearly cried out as one of the hybrids’ minds quivered at my probe. I tore my senses back, flipping my cloak on and dialing it just far enough to leave our squad covered from prying minds.
Had that thing felt me?
I waited for a painfully long handful of seconds, too tense to breathe.
No alarms. No distant battle roar.
I was about ready to sigh in relief when I noticed Dillard marching my way with a look that said it was time for my next public humiliation. Instead, though, he pulled me aside and spoke in a low voice.
“Look, kid, I don’t know what your deal is or why Glenbark decided to trust you at all, but—Hey, what’s wrong with you? You need a sugar lick or something?”
I must’ve looked as shaken as I felt. “No, sir. I’m… fine.”
Dillard was less than convinced. “Kid, whatever the scud you’re playing at, if you actually have intel, now’s the time.”
Hybrids. Humans. Blood racks. Breeding chambers. All still active.
Alpha, did I have intel. I just wasn’t sure I could lay it all out without them crying demon and clapping me in restraints right there.
But grop it.
“We need to be careful,” I said, quietly enough that only he and Johnny would hear. “This facility’s live, but it feels like most of the hybrids are still in stasis down there. I pick up at least two patrolling. Three conscious humans, too. I’m not sure what they’re doing down there, but given that the raknoth could’ve bent their minds, it’s probably safest to assume they won’t be glad to see us.”
To his credit, Dillard managed to maintain a straight face throughout. No slack jaw. No laughing at me outright. He just waited until I’d finished, then looked questioningly at Johnny, who nodded almost apologetically.
Maybe Glenbark actually had told him to listen to me.
Dillard turned back to me, frown darkening. “You… feel all of this?”
I nodded, not really sure what I could say to make it sound less strange. Even more quietly, lest any of the dagger-staring squad overhear, I added, “Sir, if I might make a recommendation. I think we’re going to be wanting Ordo Carter’s squad down here sooner than later.”
Dillard studied me for a long moment, betraying nothing.
“How do we access this alleged facility?” he finally asked.
I inclined my head in the direction of the lifts. “May I?”
Dillard watched me a second longer, then nodded, looking about as happy as a wet haga beast. I reached out and telekinetically thumbed the S4 button in one of the empty lifts. The doors slid shut, drawing several startled looks and a few half-raised weapons.
“It’s okay guys,” Johnny said.
I waited until I felt the lift stop at the floor above, then I reached for the doors ahead, disconnected their catches, and slid them apart with telekinesis, revealing the open lift shaft.
“Ta-da,” Johnny said to the silent room, where several legionnaires were now staring at me like… well, like I truly was the Demon of Divinity.
There were mumbles and whispers. Beside me, Dillard gave a quiet command into his earpiece then held up a closed fist for silence. It fell like a heavy blanket, thick enough that Dillard’s boot falls seemed painfully loud as he walked over and leaned in to look down the open shaft.
He looked for longer than seemed necessary, then finally turned and spoke quietly to the closest fireteam, who quickly began pulling rappelling gear from their packs. Half the men tensed as I padded over to join them.
Dillard only gave me a raised finger to wait before striding over to the nearby stairwell. I could feel the first of Carter’s crew descending a floor above. When they reached the door, Dillard met Ordo Carter and pulled him aside. He talked too quietly for anyone to hear. Gestured toward the open lift shaft then to me.
Look what Raish found.
Carter looked at me like I was a bothersome piece of refuse he’d only just noticed before turning back to Dillard.
Who put the apostate civie in charge?
The look quickened my pulse, but I held my tongue and stood still until Dillard and Carter broke and started moving about, issuing quiet orders.
At that point, I couldn’t
“Permission to go down first, sir. I can keep things under control if it gets ugly.”
Dillard pegged me with a look that was serious if not quite reprimanding. “I appreciate your showing us the way, Raish, but please, step aside and let us do our job.”
Anger stirred in my chest.
I’d faced more hybrids than all of Hound Company combined—here at Vantage alone, for starters, but also at Sanctuary, and then again at the White Tower.
As quick as the thought came, I flashed back to the heart of the battle in the Great Hall. Inhuman roars. Corpses piling around me, civilians and legionnaires alike. Some fighting, some running for their lives.
All of them dying. Dying because of me. Dying because—
“It’s okay, Hal,” Johnny’s voice snapped me back to the lift lobby.
My hands were shaking on the pommels of Carlisle’s daggers. I squeezed to steady them.
“These guys know what they’re doing,” Johnny added, laying a hand on my shoulder.
Did he see how close I’d just come? Did he feel me shaking now?
I didn’t need extended senses to feel the dozens of eyes watching me.
I nodded to Dillard. “Yes, sir.”
The room itself seemed to let out a relieved breath as Dillard made to move on. In a quieter voice, just for the three of us, I added, “I just assumed you’d want me protecting your people from what happened at the Oasis counterstrike.”
Dillard froze. “Are you playing games with me, Raish?”
I held his merciless stare without flinching. “You want me at the front of your squad, Ordo. No games.”
Our staring contest stretched until I thought Johnny might burst beside me. Then Dillard swept on, gesturing to his men. “Fireteam E. Suppressors on. Down the shaft. Mara and Davis on point. Lock it down, Hounds.”
It took me a second to register that Fireteam E meant us.
Carter’s squad was already in motion, a couple legionnaires taking another lift up a floor while others pried open the shaft door and prepared more lines to climb down. I scooted forward with Johnny, who looked as surprised as I felt, while two of our team, the steel whip of a woman and one of the smaller guys—Mara and Davis, I guessed—clipped onto their lines and disappeared into the lift shaft. Heavy gunner Edwards and our remaining team member went next.
Which left me and Johnny.
I’d telekinetically caught myself from enough falls by now that I was halfway into the open shaft before Johnny caught me, clipped on to his line, and pointedly indicated I should do the same. I took the cue and went through the unnecessary tedium of hooking in and rappelling down the shaft beside him.
“Waste of time,” I muttered when it was just the two of us.
“You’re already freaking people out enough, buddy. Would it kill you to keep your head down?”
Demons of Divinity Page 5