Resonant Son

by J. N. Chaney

  “I have multiple reasons to suspect that the internal passageways within the city’s platform will sever all analog and digital transmissions between us.”

  “So I’ll be on my own.” Damn. I really didn’t like being without him. How had I grown so accustomed to this techno meathead?

  “Sir, am I to assume by this line of inquiry that you intend to explore level zero?”

  “You’re damn straight I do.”

  “Do you believe this is the wisest course?”

  “What are you, my shrink or something?” I took several deep breaths. My legs were getting the shakes. “Who said anything about wise? I’m just going with the next available lead.”

  “I see.”

  “You say that like you don’t approve. Wait—are you studying me again, asshole?”

  “It’s a habit. What can I say?” Lars paused. “Sir, I wish to inform you that you are now arriving at level zero.”

  I’d actually forgotten to check the floor numbers. “Thanks, pal.” I took ten seconds to catch two more deep breaths and then brought the MX090 up to low ready position. “Lars, do you have any footage of Fabian and Nico returning to any of the elevators or maybe coming back through this stairwell door?”

  “Searching now.” Several seconds passed before Lars said anything. “I have no indication that the assailants Fabian and Nico returned through any passageway on this floor.”

  “So they’re still out there,” I said, assuming the worst.

  “All indicators point to that conclusion, yes.”

  “Well, okay then,” I said, charging the assault rifle. “Time to get busy. See you in a few, Mr. Invisible.”

  “See you in a few, sir.”

  17

  I opened zero-level’s door and stepped into an environment unlike any in the rest of the complex. While every one of Oragga’s floors—even those under construction—had an air of sophistication and refinement, this level was all about functionality.

  The concrete floors were damp, littered with oil stains, and reeked of too much chemical cleaner. Water dripped into puddles from any number of pipes crisscrossing overhead. And the light from flickering flood lamps was hampered by conduits and vents, washing the corridors in muted tones.

  I heard gears grinding away in some unseen mechanical rooms, while gasses hissed in aging pipes. More strange odors filled my nostrils as I moved cautiously down the main hallway, alert to any movement. For a fleeting moment, I wished I had my flashlight. It was hard to make out much in the dim light. But I thought better of it as the light would have been a clarion call pointing out my presence.

  I moved down the main hallway, careful to stay along the wall. I walked along the undulating surface of wires, control boxes, and maintenance hatches, careful to stay hidden. I had no idea where these thugs might be and wanted to make sure they could say the same of me.

  My nerves were winding up in anticipation of contact. I brought my assault rifle up to ready position, making the sights an extension of my eyes. I peered along the barrel, knowing everything I saw was being processed through a subconscious threat analysis matrix in my head. It had been years since I’d used these skills. They’d once been honed to a sharp point. But now, I feared, they were blunted, shadows of their former selves. Or were they?

  Somewhere in the depths, I could feel myself coming alive, ready for the fight, eager to take this enemy down. Wasn’t this what I’d lived for when I was back on the force? To take down bullies who thought they were better than everyone else… bullies who thought they were entitled to what others had worked for.

  “Not today,” I whispered to myself. “You picked the wrong tower to hijack.”

  My foot bumped against something. It gave a little, which startled me. I looked down to see a boot extending from a recess. “What the hell?” I said. No, it was two boots. At the ends of a pair of legs that extended into the darkness. It was a damn body.

  I doubled checked the hallway for movement and then pushed against one of the boots with my foot. It felt lifeless. I slung the MX090 under my shoulder, bent down, and pulled on the body, sliding it out from the darkness. I hated myself for checking to see if the boots were my size as I did—what? I was desperate. But they are at least two sizes too small.

  Once in the muted light of the hallway, I saw the body of a man in his early twenties wearing a Sellion City Public Works uniform. He’d been shot in the forehead, his body shoved into this recess. “Sons of bitches,” I seethed. Who killed like this? It seemed so indiscriminate. Bloodthirsty, even. If a person stood between them and their objective, Oubrick’s men didn’t hesitate to kill them.

  The sound of metal on metal echoed from somewhere up ahead. I looked up from the city worker’s corpse, adding the name on his chest to my growing list of casualties, and looked for any movement. Adrenaline surged into my veins again as I fought to restrain my biological responses to whatever threat awaited me. I peered down the rifle’s sights and saw an open maintenance hatch along the right-side wall. As I got closer, I saw fresh footprints leading from a puddle up to the meter-wide hole.

  “You seeing this, Lars?” I asked. No response came, and then I remembered: no Lars. “You’re on your own, Reed.”

  I crept along the wall and approached the opening. “Slow is smooth,” I said to myself, reciting the SCPD’s mantra for urban environments. “And smooth is fast.”

  Once at the entrance, I took a deep breath and then turned my hips, pointing the barrel down the shaft. But no one was there. Instead, a metal catwalk extended through a network of massive I-beams welded together in giant geometric patterns. Pin lights illuminated the walkway every few meters until the path disappeared into haze.

  “What have we got here?” I asked myself, careful to keep my voice down. I ducked through the entryway and stepped onto the catwalk. The metal was cold against my feet. I looked over the railing—which was a big mistake. A wave of vertigo washed over me. While it couldn’t be that far down to sub-level one, my eyes met only darkness. “Eyes up, Reed.”

  I reached out a hand to steady myself as I began walking along the path. I looked up to examine the metal beams. They were black, lined with rivets the size of my head, and welded at every intersection with expertly laid beads of metal. This had to be the framework that held the lower tower to the platform. It was legitimately impressive too. I imagined this catwalk to be one of many that provided access to…

  That was when it hit me. “Gods, no,” I whispered.

  “Did you hear something?” a voice said up ahead.

  Dammit! I saw something move in the light. It had to be the two enforcers. I was out in the open. If I was lucky, I might be able to kill one of them before—

  “Hey, you! Stop!”

  I was about to say something in reply when a muzzle flash lit up the far end of the catwalk. The bright light was followed by a loud bang that reverberated through the cavernous space so loudly, it made me lose my balance. It was like being in one of the giant cathedrals erected to the mystics.

  The sound of the enemy’s gunshot grew and grew as it expanded in the never-ending hall. I steadied myself on the catwalk as a second round sent sparks flying off the railing beside my hand. Like the first, the gunshot blossomed into a dizzying wave of sound that seemed like it would never fade away.

  I returned fire with three quick trigger squeezes, aiming along the center of the catwalk, but my shots seemed to do little more than add to the already deafening cacophony reverberating through the space. They must have ample cover—that or my aim was off. Several more bullets flew my way as the men shouted at me. I was exposed, and I needed cover—now.

  I swung myself over the railing, trying my hardest not to fall, and found footing along a horizontal I-beam that ran under the catwalk and extended to my right. I held my arms out and traveled the short distance to a vertical column, half hidden in the darkness. Just don’t look down, Reed.

  More bullets struck the catwalk where I’d stood
moments before. I held to the vertical support, fighting against the waves of sound like they were ocean currents threatening to rip me from a rocky ledge. As I repositioned my feet to keep them from slipping, my heel bumped against a small protrusion. I glanced down to see what looked like a tiny package stuck to the metal. It had a silver finish and with several oblong cylinders that glowed blue. A green light blinked steadily from a small control screen while a small clover-leaf antenna rotated from the device’s center. Even though I’d never seen a neutron bomb in person, it bore all the telltale signs of one.

  Godsdammit—my suspicions were right. Oubrick wasn’t just planning on killing the hostages, he was planning on destroying the entire complex! Just one of these could take out half a city-block. So, in a confined space like this, several of these would hack the lower tower off the platform like an apple being plucked from a tree.

  The presence of so many bombs also meant this crisis wasn’t about the credits for Oubrick. Just one neutron bomb cost a small fortune. Assuming these thugs had more of these in their duffle bags meant that credits were no object. Oubrick wanted whatever else was in that vault and he’d paid a high price to acquire it.

  While I’d need more time to figure out how Oubrick planned to escape with whatever it was he was stealing, I imagined what might happen with the hostages. The Union shuttles would arrive to retrieve the hostages, and that was when Oubrick would detonate the charges. He was going to take everyone down at once.

  I was about to curse Lars again for not filling me in on Mr. Oragga’s secret, when more bullets smacked against the column I held on to. Cutting the angle to my hideout meant the enemy was advancing. Sparks lit up the space around me as more gunfire resonated in the platform’s cavernous chamber. I pulled my hands back, hoping not to lose a finger, but this only made my position on the beam more tenuous. Again, I couldn’t see what was below me, but I figured a fall from this height was something I wanted to avoid.

  More rounds peppered the metal beams beneath my hands and under my feet, their pings vibrating through my body. The enemy fire was becoming even more accurate. It was only a matter of seconds before the men spread out and pinned me down, firing from opposite ends of the catwalk. But this also meant that they’d left whatever hiding place they’d had further down the path. It was my turn to go on the offensive.

  I squatted, leaned a shoulder into the column in front of me, and then brought my weapon to bear on the two men walking toward me. Sure enough, neither had cover. Such a mistake meant that they thought I was under-armed for the conflict. That would cost them.

  I aimed at the foremost combatant, aligning my sights with the center of his business suit. I squeezed the MX090’s trigger and held it, allowing a torrent of automatic gunfire to drill into the man’s chest. I watched as his flesh was shredded, red chunks trailing away in gouts of blood. If he’d had body armor, my new assault rifle made quick work of it. The perp was forced backward and flipped over the railing.

  I rotated to aim at the remaining man, but he took advantage of my appearance and fired at my head. A bullet ricocheted off an adjacent beam and clipped the top of my rifle. The sudden clack made me wince and I withdrew behind the column again—an act that probably saved my life. A stream of more bullets collided with the column as the punk went full-auto on me.

  Without the thug’s partner there to close the angle on my location, there was little he could do to flush me out but fire relentlessly. Expending so much uncontrolled ammo on me, however, was costly, more likely an act of retribution at seeing his partner decimated than a calculated assault. So, as soon as I heard the distinct click of his magazine go dry, I leaned out and fired.

  To my astonishment, my first several rounds struck the man but did not put him down. In fact, they didn’t even seem to faze him. Instead of the bullets sinking into his flesh or even body armor, they produced a shimmering blue wave that emanated from each impact point.

  Was that some kind of personal force field? I swore under my breath as the man reloaded and raised his weapon at me again. The barrel of his rifle barked with orange flames as incoming rounds collided with the metal beams. If I survived this, I wondered if I’d ever be able to hear again. One thing they never portrayed well in the holo-films was just how damn loud weapons were.

  Suddenly, the gunfire stopped.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” the man said in a sing-song voice.

  “I’m feeling pretty comfortable right here, thanks very much,” I replied, holding my rifle to my chest, back against the column.

  “I’ll make you even more comfortable,” the man said. “Give you a sleep you’ll never wake up from.”

  “I’ll pass. Sleep’s overrated.” To emphasize my point, I swung my rifle around and squeezed. I followed a few of the bullets as they collided with the energy field that encased the man like a second skin. More blue ripples emanated from each strike. Dammit.

  The perp answered my fire with a volley of his own, emptying half a magazine on the metal around me. I swore my ears must be leaking blood by now.

  “I can do this all day,” the man said. “I’ve got plenty of ammo.”

  “And I’ve got plenty of patience,” I said as a plan formed in my head. It wasn’t much. In fact, it was probably suicide. But it was better than staying here while the seconds ticked by. I had to get word to the Union about Oubrick’s double-cross. If I didn’t, my fate with this assailant was going to be the least of Sellion City’s concerns.

  “So which one are you, Fabian or Nico?”

  “Hey, how’d you—”

  I swung my rifle around and fired blindly, just enough to keep pressure on the man—to keep him firing. The quick assault was met with more automatic return fire. I pulled the MX090 back to my chest and took a wild guess…

  “Looks like Fabian wasn’t so tough after all,” I said. “Poor baby.”

  More bullets slammed against the column.

  “Maybe he just needed a better partner,” I added.

  “Shut up!” the man roared, firing again. “Don’t talk about him, you little bitch!”

  So this was probably Nico.

  I reached over my shoulder and pulled the sniper rifle off my back. Seeing the ends of it appear around the side of the column gave Nico something to shoot at, and he didn’t disappoint. Gunfire filled the space where the weapons had been. I clutched the sniper rifle to my chest with my left hand and readied the MX090 in my right. By my estimation, Nico had another few rounds left in his magazine and then it was my time to move.

  “Hey, Nico,” I yelled. “I’m curious. Will Oubrick invite Fabian’s mom to the funeral, or does he just send pics of the bodies?”

  “To hells with you!” Nico cried and then unloaded on my position again.

  The gunfire ceased, followed by a soft click.

  It was go time.

  18

  With Nico busy swapping out clips, I stepped around the column and raced along the I-beam to the catwalk. He looked up in shock as I charged, fumbling with his magazine for a fleeting moment. I closed the gap, but not soon enough. The man was a professional and slammed the fresh magazine home. He would have been able to take me out, but that was what the sniper rifle was for.

  I pulled my arm back and then hurled the weapon at him like a javelin. As I’d hoped, Nico winced, not expecting me to throw a rifle at him. He raised his arms, forgetting that his personal shield would have easily blocked the improved spear—it carried a fraction of a bullet’s kinetic energy. It was exactly the window I needed.

  In the time it took for him to recover from the wild attack, I bounded over the railing and sent my feet into his chest. Apparently, my body was moving too slow for the force field to consider it a threat, so Nico took the full brunt of my adrenaline-fueled strike. His hands flew up as his lower back struck the railing behind him. I landed on my feet and reached for his weapon’s hand with my left hand and placed the barrel of my MX090 against his abdomen.

&n
bsp; Nico was far from being out of this fight, however. Before I could squeeze a round off, he raised a knee and knocked my rifle aside. I countered with a violent headbutt to his face. I heard something crack under my face and pulled away to see a stream of blood spurt from his nose. Nico swore at me and threw a punch at my head. The blow landed on my temple, re-opening the wound Lars had stitched up. Specks of light flitted about in my vision as Nico landed several more blows against my ribs. Still, I kept his weapon’s hand at bay, struggling to shield his battering ram of a hand from striking my already-sore ribs.

  His fourth strike to my ribs broke something. I gasped as the pain seized my chest. I let go of his weapons hand, crumpling to my knees. I imagined that he must be pulling his weapon up to fire straight down on me. There was no way I could dodge the shot. But this was close-quarters combat, and there was no way I was going to let him shoot me in the back.

  I gathered my strength and then exploded off the catwalk, shooting straight up. My shoulders knocked his weapon aside as it barked out several rounds while the top of my head slammed into his face. The man cried out as something else cracked in his head. Once airborne, I twisted to bring my MX090’s butt across Nico’s head, but the force of my initial impact had thrown it back. Instead of striking his face, the weapon carved a slit across the man’s neck. A red gap appeared as a spurt of blood shot from the seam.

  Nico coughed, grabbing at his neck. Still, he brought his rifle around and tried firing on my side. Again, I pushed it wide and twisted my body inside his arms, pushing him back against the railing. He let go of his neck and brought a hammer-fist down onto my shoulder, pounding me relentlessly. I winced as more pain caught my breath. But if I stopped even for a second, I’d be dead, and there were too many lives hanging in the balance for that.

  I rolled to the left, throwing his arms off me, and then took a step back. The act threw Nico off balance, enough for me to land another kick on his torso. I’d hoped to send him flipping over the railing like Fabian, but no such luck. The man stumbled sideways and fell to the catwalk. He rolled on his side and reached for his neck. I saw blood seeping between his fingers. Without medical attention, he was as good as dead. But until that happened, he still had some fight in him, which meant he could still take me out if I wasn’t careful.