by M. R. Forbes
“At ease,” James said, cutting it off. He pointed to one of the technicians. “Private Lin. Go across to the armory and have them start prepping my armor.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, saluting and running off to complete the task.
“Corporal Dawes, I need two drones headed to the fusion plant near the river west of Manhattan, ASAP.”
“Yes, sir,” the drone pilot said, turning back to the screens showing the feeds from the machines.
“Corporal Davis, head to the barracks and find Buzzcut. I want the chopper spun up and ready to fly. Also, get Beta Squad’s lazy asses out of bed and organized in the armory.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Where’s the Spacer pilot?” he asked.
“In the mess, sir,” one of the techs replied.
“Johnson, Matz, grab a weapon and keep the pilot detained.”
“Sir?” Matz said.
“Do it.”
“Yes, sir.”
James backed out of COMCENT and headed for the door to the airfield. He jogged over to the Pulse. He had to be quick.
The back ramp of the ship was open, and he made his way up and inside. With the Trust’s commandos in the field and the pilot in the mess, he had the craft to himself. Not that he could do anything with it. He had no idea how to fly the vessel. None of the Liberators did. It didn’t matter. Buzzcut had fixed the helicopter just like he promised. The soldier had earned more than the hour of rest he had gotten, but that’s how war went sometimes.
The cargo hold was nearly empty save for a custom made rack tethered to the center of the open space. It had a dozen clamps in three rows of four, but only one of them was occupied. A long cylinder rested there, a small square of electronics clinging to the top. James approached it, putting his hand on the outside of the metal. It was cold. He looked at the display. The contents were kept cool until they were released, and it showed power levels and temperature were both stable. He reached down with his organic hand and tapped on the controls, switching over to the detonation timer. He had been planning to deliver the trial without setting the timer. He had thought to let it release on impact, but Nathan was in there.
He set it for five minutes.
Then he released the clamps holding the rack to the ship and picked it up, lifting it easily with his replacement hand. He carried the entire thing back down the ramp, nearly colliding with Buzzcut on the way.
“Sir!” Buzzcut said, slipping around him and continuing to the helicopter without slowing.
James followed him. The pilot had already started the rotors by the time he reached the chopper and placed the rack on the deck in the back. He climbed up and pulled it further in, clamping it down in the vehicle.
“Five minutes,” he said to the pilot, who flashed him a thumbs-up. Then he climbed back out and ran across the tarmac to the armory. He hurried to his dressing room, quickly changing to a bodysuit and then positioning himself in the Mark Three armor’s loading mount. The powered armor dropped over him, and he stepped forward, bringing the HUD online.
He walked out and back to where Beta Squad was hastily assembling. They paused as he appeared in the larger doorway.
“I want you at the chopper in five minutes,” he said, interrupting them before they could announce him. He didn’t waste time with them, rushing over to the central armory. Tinker had sent him a new rifle, and it wasn’t on the Pulse, which meant someone had already dropped it there.
He found the case still at the front of the space, waiting for a permanent location. He flipped the case open, looking down at the weapon. It was nearly identical to his other rifle, but Tinker had added a second appendage beneath the main barrel, connected to a cylinder at the back. There was a thin wire with a connector near the top of the stock, matching a receptacle at the base of his helmet.
He pulled the weapon out of the case and carried it back out to the airfield and across to the helicopter. Three minutes had passed, and Beta Squad was doing its best to impress him. All five members were already assembled.
He hopped into the chopper.
“Buzzcut, get us airborne,” he said.
The pilot offered another thumbs-up, and then the throttle increased, the rotors accelerating and the machine lifting into the sky. They went vertical for a dozen meters and then starting turning north.
“First stop is the Hoboken Fusion Center,” James said. “Buzzcut, when we get there I want you to do a quick touch at the entrance. Beta, follow my lead.”
“We’re going into a trife nest, sir?” one of the soldiers asked.
“Yes, we are Corporal,” James replied. “But we aren’t staying long.”
He could sense the sudden tension in Beta Squad. They were nervous about the idea of heading into a trife nest. He didn’t blame them, but he still found the reaction annoying. Alpha wouldn’t have been so hesitant. It only made him more angry at Sheriff for getting them killed.
Sheriff would get his soon enough.
Chapter 51
The helicopter circled the Fusion Center as Buzzcut searched for the best place to land. The old power station was in relatively good condition considering its age, its thick concrete walls designed to withstand the test of time. From the outside, it appeared as a large square box of stained gray, with a metal dome that rose from the center. The grounds around it had been attractive once; plots of green grass and tree-lined drives and pathways that had led into the power station. They were either overgrown or dead now, too green or too brown.
Trife were milling around outside the plant even now, guards protecting the nest from intrusion. More trife were spread further out, basking in the sun and soaking up their fuel. With the stealth mode of the helicopter repaired they didn’t hear the craft incoming, and so they didn’t react as the machine descended to the ground.
“Go, go, go,” James said.
Beta Squad’s soldiers jumped out of the helicopter before the treads touched down on a spot of dead brown vegetation and soil. The Liberators had their rifles slung and long knives in hand, ready to defend. He didn’t want them disturbing the nest just yet.
James followed them out, the helicopter already rising again as his feet hit the ground. He turned back to make sure the chopper was clear from trife before moving ahead of Beta Squad. The guards at the front of the plant were already gathering, hissing to one another and preparing to intercept. A few of the basking trife heard them, and they also started to rise.
“No guns,” James said to his soldiers. “Not until I give the word.”
“Yes, sir,” they replied through the comm.
The trife started toward them, dropping to all fours and then springing at them from nearly ten meters away. James expected them to gang up on him, to go for the strongest target as they had outside the Naval ship. Instead, the bulk of them hit the ground after their first jump and redirected, turning and diving into Beta Squad, targeting two of its members with the brunt of the attack.
James cursed, charging toward the demons as the first two soldiers fell, screaming in their comms while the trife tore through their light armor and into their flesh. The rest of Beta attacked them from the rear, stabbing long knives into the creature’s backs and slowing the assault.
James reached them, kicking at the trife, his powerful armor throwing them back while crushing their hollow bones. They scattered from him, breaking away and using their speed to escape. He checked his HUD, noting that the two Beta soldiers were already dead.
“Let’s move Beta,” he said, leading them forward.
“Guns, sir?” one of them asked.
“Negative.”
He led them toward the entrance. The trife were gathering again, the baskers joining the guards. They stayed behind James and his unit, hissing to one another. They were sending and receiving instructions, both from the trife nearby and the queen buried in the nest. James knew they would attack again before they would let him inside.
“Guns ready,” he said. “I want a def
ensive line here. Hold the entrance, don’t let them inside.”
The three remaining soldiers in Beta sheathed their knives and pulled their plasma rifles. They made it the rest of the way to the station’s front. James could see into the lobby through thick and dirty transparent plating. He could also see the trife on the other side, watching him.
The entrance was still sealed, which meant the trife were going in and out some other way. James didn’t have time to find it. Instead, he drew back his armored hand and thrust it forward, throwing a hard punch into the thick glass.
The first hit caused a small crack. James drew his arm back again.
The trife finally decided to attack.
Beta Squad opened fire behind him, facing out toward the field and sending bolt after bolt of plasma into the oncoming trife.
James punched the glass again. The crack got a little bigger, but it was more sturdy than he had guessed.
He grabbed his rifle, flipping the switch to power it on. A reticle appeared in the helmet’s HUD, along with an option to switch firing modes. His old rifle had the typical plasma modes. Single, burst, stream, full auto. This one had a fifth option. Guided rocket.
He swung around, facing the trife coming at them and selecting the fifth choice. He put the reticle on a mass of trife and pulled the trigger.
The rocket thunked out of the secondary tube before its motor ignited, a sharp whine carrying it higher into the air before it redirected itself down toward the slick of trife he had targeted. The rocket sank into their midst, detonating a meter off the ground and throwing out a huge ball of hot plasma gas that tore fifty trife to nothing in an instant.
“Shit,” he heard one of his soldiers declare at the results.
James smirked, turning back to the glass. He held the rifle in one hand while he punched the glass with the other. It took four more strikes to send a spiderweb of cracks along the surface.
“Ether, cover me,” James said.
“Yes, sir,” the soldier replied, pulling off the rear defense.
James leaned back, kicking out with an armored foot. It hit the glass hard, extending the cracks for a moment. Then the whole pane fell inward from its bulky frame.
Ether fired into the new opening, hitting the first few trife that tried to attack. Then James regained his balance, moving the armor forward and through the opening. The trife went after him, and he grabbed them and threw them aside, punching and kicking.
“Beta, hold your position. Keep the area clean.”
“Yes, sir,” they replied.
He moved into the lobby, taking out the trife that attacked him there. He spotted a metal door on the right, and he proceeded to it, shoving it easily off its hinges. He squeezed the armor into the corridor, having to duck to fit, keeping his rifle ready while he navigated down the hallway and turned left. Signs pointed out the direction to the reactor, and he followed them down a wide stairwell.
He found corpses at the base of it, old and rotten skeletons in moth-eaten and faded white coats, technicians who had died there years ago, protected from the environment. There were trife, too. Nearly a dozen of the demons poured out of an intersecting corridor, charging at him as one.
He punched one of them and grabbed another, throwing it in the wall. Three of them hit him at once, claws scraping against his suit, teeth banging against it in a search for a weak spot. He picked one off and crushed its neck in his hand. He punched another and demolished its skull. One of them made it to his back, and he threw himself into the wall, smashing it.
They kept coming. He was too close to the nest to let alone, even if he was overpowering them. He smacked one with his rifle, shattering its bones and sending it to the floor. He stepped over that one and grabbed for another as its claws swiped down across the glass of his helmet, leaving a scratch along the surface.
He picked it off him, throwing it forward. It hit the ground and turned, leaping back at him, only to have its head battered by an incoming fist. It bounced off the wall and didn’t get back up.
James moved ahead, down a short corridor to a pair of blast doors. They were open slightly, but not enough for him to get inside. It was only big enough for him to do what he had come to do. He made it to the doors, peering past and into the main reactor chamber. He could hear the soft hum of the equipment and see the control room above and to the left, where lights from running computers flashed through the glass.
The nest was directly ahead of him. Hundreds and hundreds of trife swirled around one another, covered in their sticky reproductive substance. They hissed softly, writhing in a tight ball, ignorant of his presence there. Not for long.
He grabbed his rifle, putting it in stream mode. He stuck the muzzle through the part in the doors. He turned up the ejection rate.
Then he pulled the trigger.
A blast of plasma washed over the edge of the nest. The scream was immediate and loud, an ear-splitting cry of anger from the creatures ahead of him. The ones at the edge started breaking away, turning toward him. He switched the rifle to single shot and fired, killing three of them straight away.
More of the trife started to disband, fifty separating from the group within a few seconds. There had to be close to ten-thousand of the demons in the nest if their density was any indication of their numbers.
“Come on,” James said, firing single shots deeper into the group. “Come on. Come to daddy.” He retreated toward the steps, firing random shots at the trife. “Come on. Come on. Let’s go. We don’t have all fucking day.”
He started up the stairwell. The trife were gathering, squeezing through the small opening one at a time. He was lucky the doors had jammed that way, or he might not have been able to get away from the flood.
He climbed three more stairs, looking into the nest. The whole thing was still unfurling, the trife eager to attack the person who had gone after their young. He smiled, taking a few more pot-shots and then turning and bounding up the rest of the stairs.
“Buzzcut, time to go,” he said into the comm. “Beta, prepare for evac.”
“Roger,” Buzzcut replied. “On my way.”
He returned to the lobby. Beta Squad was on their feet, two soldiers firing while a third refreshed his cells. He looked past them, finding the helicopter swooping down toward the same patch of dead grass.
“What about Kick and Verge?” Ether asked, referring to the dead soldiers.
“We’ll come back for them,” James replied. “No time now.”
The trife were spilling into the lobby, a living slick of black flesh in pursuit of the humans. The soldiers looked back at the demons and started running for the helicopter. James brought up the rear, shooting back at them as before.
The chopper touched down as the soldiers reached it, jumping in and sliding to their seats. It was rising before James reached it, but the powered armor carried him up effortlessly, and he dropped his rifle on the deck and grabbed the controls for the mounted cannon.
“Not too high,” he ordered.
“Roger,” Buzzcut replied.
James fired down into the trife, killing a few and making sure they would continue to follow. The slick was growing, the entire nest coming alive to defend their young. The helicopter drifted north, the trife trailing it, tracking it to where the creatures knew there was a human settlement.
A settlement that had just declared all-out war on it.
Crosston.
Chapter 52
The Spacer stared back at Hayden. There was no look of recognition on his face. But then, why would there be? He wasn’t Austin Bennett. He was another replica. He just happened to look like his friend.
“Nope,” the soldier replied.
Then he started shooting.
Hayden was already breaking to his left, sprinting away and forcing the Spacer to hit a moving target. Nathan did the same, cutting the other direction, splitting the man’s attention and forcing him to choose which of them he wanted to shoot first.
The
bullets chewed at the ground near Hayden’s feet, and one of them grazed across his leg, hitting the bodysuit sharply enough to slice through. The rounds stopped a second later, Bennett changing his mind about who to attack.
“Fucking General lied to me,” Bennett said, swinging his weapon toward Nathan.
Hayden stopped running, turning around. He started on an angle toward the shooter. He could see Nathan hadn’t gone far either, but he had grabbed one of the dead Crosstons and pulled him up to cover his body. Between the corpse and the bodysuit, Bennett’s rounds would have a hard time punching through.
Bennett realized that too, and he started swinging his rifle back. Hayden looked for somewhere to hide, but he was stuck out in the open.
“Gotcha,” Bennett said, lining up the shot.
A dark form lunged through the entrance to the arena, hitting Bennett at the same time he squeezed the trigger. Rounds whipped past Hayden, going wide and high as Bennett was knocked off-balance by the unexpected appearance of a trife.
“What the hell?” he said, a moment before charging at the creature and the soldier.
Bennett threw the trife over his shoulder, grabbing his sidearm and firing a few rounds into it. He was turning back to Hayden, but he was too late. Hayden swung his big arm, catching him full in the chest with a forearm. The blow was enough to lift Bennett off his feet, throwing him onto his back. He rolled backward and came back up, trying to aim his weapon.
Hayden turned to his left as a pair of trife charged at him, hissing and slashing with their claws. He blocked the attack with his arm, bending and punching with the Centurion hand. He cracked one of the trife across the jaw, bent low and grabbed the other, flipping it up and over.
A crack sounded, and something hit him in the shoulder. It knocked him back, the round penetrating slightly through the bodysuit and leaving a flare of pain behind. Then Hayden heard a loud twang as Nathan hit the Spacer in the face with his bat.
“That’s for Rhonna,” he said.