Deejay buzzed in his ear. "Okay. We've identified a back door. It's normally used to transport blood shards for storage in their depots. It's just inside the shield at the location I'm sending you. We can bypass the passcode and trick the system into opening the shield just long enough for us to get inside."
"We're on our way." Cash glanced at Hessler. "We're on."
"Fine. Let's do this."
Chapter 12
"Sir, we may have a problem."
Kirk sighed when Lieutenant Bryant entered the dining room, reluctantly looking up from his dinner of roasted duck, mashed pumpkin, and warm beet salad. "Nobody interrupts you unless you're eating or taking a shit."
"I'm sorry, sir."
"Report, Lieutenant."
"Security outpost number three hasn't reported in, sir. Permission to take a team to investigate."
"That's the one disguised as a charging station."
"Yes, sir."
Kirk drummed his fingers across the tabletop, glancing at the timer on his holoband. Two hours left. "HSSC might be trying to breach. Take two squads. Report bask as soon as you find out something."
Bryant saluted and quickly left the room.
Kirk tapped his holoband. "Corporal Singleton."
Singleton's face flashed onscreen. "Sir."
"Has Kilgore reported in?"
"No, sir. Should I look for him?"
"No, Corporal. That will be all."
Kirk pushed away from the table, adrenaline pumping. This might be your only chance. You have to do it. He's going to get you and all your men killed.
He took a wary look around, walking the entire room. Stuck his head out the door, searching both directions. The guards outside snapped salutes.
"Anything you need, sir?"
"Nothing, soldier. Thank you."
"Sir."
Kirk eased back inside. You're acting like a child. A scared little boy looking for the monster in the closet. He looked at his reflection in the window. A phantom with haunted eyes stared back at him. Visible fear. Fear he hadn't felt in dozens of harrowing battles. Fear he hadn't felt even when captured by rebel forces on a planet so far from Earth that it may as well have ceased to exist.
He took a deep breath. Squared his shoulders. And tapping the sequence on his holoband, he made the call.
The massive window morphed into a monitor screen, projecting Director Lynch's profile with perfect clarity. Every wrinkle was carved as if for a purpose, lines mapping a face meant to intimidate and demand subservience. His cold, cybernetic eyes whirred and clicked as they focused on Kirk.
"General. I was wondering when you'd be in touch. Are you preparing your terms of surrender?"
"Has the UH met my demands?"
"Of course they haven't. You've seen their public responses. You're a famed commander fallen from grace, driven mad by PTSD, mentally unhinged. When you're taken out by some heroic sniper or overzealous Nimrod, you'll be mourned as a fallen hero. Used as a warning example of the effects of off-world warfare. But you know this already, don’t you? You had to know before undertaking this impressively foolish endeavor that it would lead to your death and the death of your New Legion. I can't believe you would do this when you could have easily found a hundred easier ways to resolve your quarrels with the UH and OWO peacefully. But you didn't. Why?"
Kirk's blood ran cold at the certainty of Lynch's words. "I didn't have a choice."
"From where I'm sitting you seemed to have had many choices. You simply made every bad one possible."
Kirk lowered his voice, trying to ignore the bead of sweat that dripped down the side of his face. "You think I'm doing this because I want to? He took my family. He made me do this. Be the face of his insane stunt. I had to go along, or he'd kill them. My wife. My sons, my daughter. He promised to kill them all. And I believe him. He was always psychotic. Even before Mars. Before he changed into what he is now."
"Kilgore." Lynch's eyes gleamed as he processed the new information. "That explains many things."
"He's insane. Whatever gave him those abilities has driven him mad. He was desperate to find a way into this Haven. Said what he needed could only be found here. All of this…it's just a front. A distraction while he finds whatever it is he's searching for."
"And what is he searching for?"
Kirk's voice turned bitter. "As if he'd confide in me. Whatever it is, he's willing to sacrifice me and all of my men to accomplish it. It's like he's separated himself from the basic elements of human nature. I don't think he even recognizes himself as human anymore."
"I'm not surprised. Kilgore never did think much of people. That's what made him such an effective tool. What about the explosives?"
"There are no explosives. The whole threat is a bluff. My men are all that holds this city, and they aren't enough to cover every entry point. Sooner or later someone's going to get in."
"Even better. The question now is: what do you want me to do about your situation?"
"Get me out. I'll open the shielding, let your men in. Surrender completely. But it has to be done now. Before Kilgore resurfaces."
Lynch tilted his head. "I'm afraid it's too late for that, General."
Kirk felt Kilgore's presence before he turned around. He was just there, as if borne of thin air. He stood several yards away, expressionless. Several yards were all that separated Kirk from instant death.
He cautiously raised a hand. "Kilgore. Listen…"
Kilgore took a step forward. "I leave for just a few hours, and you're ready to betray me. I warned you of the cost of betrayal, didn't I?"
"No, please. You don't understand…"
"Understand what? That you're afraid? Fear is common to most men, General. Many of your men were afraid on Mars. In the cold, desolate dunes of the red planet. That didn't stop you from sending them to their deaths, did it?"
Kirk edged backward. "I didn't know, Kilgore. I was as blindsided as the rest of the Legion. But there are better ways to seek justice if that's what you're after."
Kilgore took another step closer. "Justice? That's a word, General. A term spun in whatever way works best for the institutions that use it to their advantage. I don't want justice. I want to know what happened to me."
Kirk backed away, legs trembling. "I…can't tell you what happened. You fought your way to the portal. You went inside. And when you came out you had—"
"I know what happened. I don't know how. Or why. Or who's responsible."
"And you think we can find the answers here?"
Kilgore closed the distance in a sudden blur of movement, seizing Kirk by the throat before he could react. His feet left the floor, body dangling in Kilgore's unbreakable grip. Kirk grappled with all of his strength against the hand that cut off his oxygen, but he may as well have been a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. He saw his face reflected from the mirrored surfaces of Kilgore's sunglasses, contorted in terror.
Kilgore's grin was a terrible rictus of clenched white teeth. "We won't find any answers, General. I will find what I seek on my own. I'm afraid your part in this undertaking has reached its conclusion. Consider it the cost of betrayal."
The fingers tightened around Kirk's throat, crushing like a vice. The pain of his trachea collapsing was so intense that he would have screamed if he could have. Instead, only the weakest gurgle emitted when darkness closed in on his consciousness. As he died, he realized that Director Lynch hadn't signed off his transmission. His holographic profile still emanated from the wall. Watching in silence as Kirk was murdered in front of him.
$$
Kilgore released Hamilton's dead body, letting it collapse to the floor. He looked over at Lynch, who looked back with the inhuman stare that intimidated so many in his presence.
No more.
"Are you entertained, Lynch?"
"Kilgore. What are you doing? What did you do with Maximillian? Is he alive?"
"I don't answer to you anymore, Lynch. That ended a long time ago."
"Home? Back to the HSSC? The viper den of backstabbing and betrayal?" He sneered. "Look at you. You think you're so secure in your hidden lair. Watching everyone. Pitting one faction against the other. Manipulating from the shadows. Your time is almost up, old man. I've seen the future. You're not in it."
"I don't need to be. My legacy will continue without me. But you—you're alone out there, Kilgore. After this, you'll be the most wanted man in the world. You need allies. Tell me what this is about, and I'll see what I can do. Maybe our mutual interests align."
"Our interests are anything but mutual. You're a relic, Lynch. A ghost who doesn't know he's already dead. The only reason I haven't killed you yet is that it's not worth the time. The winds of destruction are headed your way. You won't be able to do anything except witness and tremble at the destruction of everything you've spent your life constructing."
He held out his hand. Light flickered, and a remote device appeared. Pressing the button, he watched Lynch's surprised face fade away, along with every light in the room. Walking to the hallway, he stuck his head out the door. The guards were already alerted, running and shouting orders under the harsh glare of the emergency lights. Kilgore motioned to one of them.
"We've been hit with an electromagnetic attack. Sweep the building for intruders."
"What about General Hamilton, sir?"
"I'm protecting Hamilton. You lead the floor search."
The guard saluted and yelled orders to his fellows. Kilgore waited until they ran down the hallway before kneeling. Closing his eyes, he focused on where he needed to be. The electric charge pulsed, raising the hairs on his body and tingling from head to toe.
The world flashed.
He stood in a scorched circle, examining his new, brightly lit surroundings. The Reservatory, Maximillian's main intelligence compound. The size of a city block, it was almost entirely taken up by a massive circular Core Sphere, created with the same liquid metal material that covered the surface of the Maximillian Tower. It swirled in its transparent housing like something alive, the billions of nanoparticles working in unison to operate the fusion-based generators that powered the city, along with harvesting, interpreting and allocating the massive loads of data through server virtualization to keep the city's digital and electronic functions operating at peak efficiency.
Sergeant Chen yelped and nearly tumbled from her chair at a nearby control center when he tapped her on the shoulder.
"Oh! Captain Kilgore. I…didn't hear you come in. There's something funny going on with the system. I think someone outside is trying to—"
"General Hamilton is dead."
Her eyes widened. "Dead? How? When did—?"
"We have a traitor among us. Or a cell of traitors. I found Maximillian. He was outside the Haven, communicating with an HSSC agent. I overheard him saying he had people on the inside that could get the HSSC in. Our people, Chen. When I went to report it to General Hamilton, I found him dead in the command center."
"Oh my God."
"You can trust no one, Sergeant. Understand?"
She nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "But what about us? The mission?"
"The HSSC will be invading soon if they're not already inside. The mission has failed. We'll be evacuating as soon as you do one last thing. Something General Hamilton needed desperately. It was a secret that he only told me for security reasons. Understand?"
"I understand."
He leaned over, ignoring Chen when she instinctively pulled back. His fingers rapidly struck the keyboard, typing in a name.
"You need to find this person. It won't be easy. The location will be buried under numerous false leads, identities, and locations. Stricken from all public records. This is the only place with the ability to sift through the raw data. It has to be done here or not at all."
She stared at the name. "Merlin Woods? What's so important about him? Who is he?"
"Hamilton never told me. But he did say Merlin might be the key to everything. Find him, Sergeant. Or all of this will have been for nothing."
"I will, sir. What will you be doing?"
"Making sure you're safe. Killing anyone that gets in the way." He tapped the datcom in his ear. "Squadron leaders, this is Captain Kilgore. There's no easy to say this. We've been compromised by traitors in our midst. They have assassinated General Hamilton and are working to undermine the mission from within. Stick to your individual squadrons and do not interact with other units until the traitors have been identified. If threatened, do not hesitate to protect yourselves. I'll meet you at the rendezvous point. Kilgore out."
Chen looked up from the console. "If every squadron thinks the other one might be traitors, won't that cause a lot of confusion? One wrong step and everyone will be at each other's throats."
Kilgore flashed his teeth in a fierce grin. "I know."
$$
The gunfire had already erupted by the time Kilgore made it to the Vault. He didn’t care about the fractured squadrons turning on each other. The chaos worked to his advantage. What he needed was close.
Row upon row of upright pods were arranged in a massive, dimly lit facility. In each one was the body of a synoid, all clothed with spotless white jumpsuits. Every possible race and nationality was present, perfect in their cloned flesh. So lifelike, lying as if asleep and a whisper would awaken them. Stored away until their inception date, when they would be shipped out to the purchasing Haven and activated to a life of servitude.
Kilgore walked to one of the pods and tapped a sequence of buttons. The door opened with a hissing sound, expelling clouds of vapor. Reaching in, he grabbed Jude Maximillian by the collar and hauled him out, dropping him on the floor.
Maximillian shivered, teeth chattering. He hugged himself for warmth and glared up at Kilgore. "You c-could have k-k-killed me!"
"You're alive, Jude. More than I can say for the man who captured your Haven."
"General Hamilton is d-d-dead?" Maximillian's eyes flicked back and forth. "Then w-why are you doing this? You should be leaving the c-city."
"Because we have unfinished business." Kilgore held out a hand. Electric-blue light crackled, and then a heavy jacket appeared. He tossed it to Maximillian. "The Sanctum. I know what you've been working on. You're going to take me to it. Or back into the pod you go. Only this time I won't be back to haul you out."
Maximillian's jaw jutted stubbornly forward for a second, but his eyes glanced nervously at the pod. Finally, his head dropped in defeat. "Fine. I'll show you."
His hand shot out, hitting a button underneath the pod.
The entire Vault exploded with hissing sounds as every pod door slid open at once. Hundreds of synoids poured out of their capsules, running toward Kilgore with clenched fists and fury etched on their perfectly contoured faces. They all shouted as if with one mouth.
"Intruder. Stop the intruder!"
Maximillian darted past the attacking mob, throwing frantic glances over his shoulder as he rushed to the exit doors. Kilgore went down under the sheer mass of attackers. Fists pummeled him, feet stomped. He couldn't see with all the bodies attacking with single-minded ferocity. The room echoed with the sounds of flesh being pounded as he took damage that would kill a normal man.
But he wasn't normal. He snarled, teeth clamped together, mind focused on what needed. His hands flickered. Something metallic and heavy dropped into them—a handheld drill used by miners on Mars to harvest blood shards. He pulled the trigger.
A cutting laser fired from the drill. It tore through bodies with ease, allowing Kilgore to stand up as severed limbs rained down, spurting glowing blue liquid. He fanned the drill back and forth, carving his relentless attackers. The laser cut through pods, computer equipment, and burned lines in the walls of the room.
Sparks erupted, activating the fire suppressant system. He summoned an aspiration mask, slipping it over his face while finishing off the rest of the synoids. In a few more seconds there was nothing moving in the room except twitching body parts. Cloned eyeballs stared at him from ruined faces, silently accusing. Kilgore ignored the automatons. The person he needed was flesh and blood.
But when he looked around the hazy room, there was no sign of Maximillian.
Chapter 13
The Battle-Cat slowed as they approached the end of the tunnel, where cargo transports unloaded caches of blood shards. The loading docks appeared surprisingly abandoned.
"I don't like it," Cash said. "Looks like a trap."
Deejay spoke from the dash monitor. "I've been jamming any surveillance in the tunnel, but yeah—something isn't right."
Happy leaned forward in the passenger seat, searching the gloomy surroundings. "Well, too late to turn back now."
"Yeah, maybe fighting the entire Haven might sound like a good idea to you, but I'm not trying to commit suicide."
"Then you're in the wrong occupation. Should've been a shuttle pilot." She clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, cop."
"Stop calling me a cop." He looked back where Mateo and Agent Hessler were seated in cramped, battered seats behind them. "Okay, what's the plan?"
Mateo perked up. "Ooh, I know. Find General Hamilton."
"And…?"
"And try not to get killed."
Cash gave him a thumb's up. "Exactly. Simple plans are the best."
Hessler's pained expressions spoke volumes. "That's not a plan at all."
"Sure. Just one that allows for a lot of improvising."
Happy headed for the door. "Just make sure if we run into Kilgore that you leave him to me."
"Sure," Hessler muttered. "While he's killing you, we might be able to sneak past."
They exited the Battle-Cat, alert for traps and ambushes. Mateo knelt near one of the guardhouses, examining a body.
"Looks like someone killed the guards. Don't see any wounds, though."
Nimrod Squad Page 12