Sudden Death (A Military Sci Fi Thriller) (The Biogenesis War Files)

by L. L. Richman

  It concerned him enough to reach into his pocket for the cylinder that held his final surveillance drone. With a flick of his thumb, he opened the canister, and let the tiny machine handshake with his ID. It floated silently away. Using the drone’s surveillance feed, he dropped an icon over the mysterious woman, instructing the drone to follow when she left.

  As the door shut behind the woman, he decided he’d better let the others in on his suspicions.

  {You in position?} Thad asked.

  Walking around to the back of the comm node, Boone sent the lieutenant a mental headshake. {Not quite. There was someone up here when I arrived.}

  {On the roof?} Asha cut in.

  {Yes, ma’am.} He put his shoulder against the casing and shoved it closer to the ledge. {She’s dressed like a maintenance worker and is posing as a man. There’s no law that says she can’t do that, but…}

  {But it feels wrong to you.} Thad finished the thought.

  {Exactly.} He straightened, unslinging the rifle from his shoulder. {I sent my last drone after her.}

  {Good. Keep an eye on it,} the lieutenant ordered. {She starts going roday around the park, you let us know.}

  29: NOT YOUR FIGHT

  Thad left Boone with instructions to ping him once he was set up and then refocused his attention on the mental snapshot he’d taken earlier, atop the hut. Intensely aware that there were civilians still racing for cover, Thad held his P-SCAR at the low-ready as he crossed from building to building, coming to a stop behind a display stand.

  He needed to put a stop to the brewing conflict between the smuggler and the enforcer bearing down on him before innocents got caught in the crossfire. If his mental calculations were correct, this location should put him about where the enforcer would emerge.

  A scream rent the air. Thad risked a quick look around the display; what he saw had him pulling back with a harsh mental curse. A pair of familiar faces, friends of Asha’s niece, stood frozen in fear, their eyes riveted to the gun in the enforcer’s hand.

  Dammit! His target was between Thad and the girls. It was impossible for Thad to take the shot without risk to the teens.

  “Shut up,” he heard the cartel man hiss, “or I’ll shut you up.”

  Thad cursed silently once more. Reversing the P-SCAR so that it rested against his back, he pulled his knife. He knew the teens’ eyes would automatically shift to him once he emerged from hiding. That meant slow and stealthy was out of the question.

  Bracing, he launched himself around the display, rushing the target. As expected, the girls’ reactions gave away his presence. The man began to turn but he was too slow; Thad was already on him, the impact sending them both slamming to the sidewalk.

  Thad shouted at the girls, “Go! Get out of here!” One hand wrapped around the man’s gun while the other plunged his blade toward the man’s gut. The knife met resistance, skittering sideways across the man’s base layer.

  Thad didn’t get a second chance to use the blade. The enforcer fisted the front of Thad’s shirt, hauling him forward as he aimed his forehead at Thad’s nose. Thad ducked, the man’s head-butt crashing into the crook of his neck instead.

  Thad slammed the enforcer’s gun hand against the sidewalk once more and the gun went skittering away. He transferred his grip to the sling around the man’s neck and tightened. The man’s hands flailed wide as the pressure of the flat, reinforced lanyard cut off his air supply. They came back down in a brutal double-handed palm strike.

  Thad rotated his head just enough to keep the blow from landing squarely against his ears. Still, the thunderclap hurt like a mother. The carbyne nanofloss lattice across his eardrums was the only thing that kept the blow from perforating them. Momentarily stunned, Thad’s hold on the sling slackened.

  The enforcer used the opportunity to press his advantage. Gripping Thad’s knife hand, the man wrenched, twisting Thad’s wrist in a direction it didn’t want to go. Thad responded with another elbow strike to the throat before his adversary could snap his wrist—but not before the man forced him to drop the knife.

  It clattered to the ground just as the enforcer’s hold loosened. The two broke apart, Thad shaking his hand out to make sure it was still functional.

  “This isn’t your fight,” his opponent rasped as he swung a quick jab Thad’s way, “so quit playing hero and concentrate on staying alive instead.”

  “Nothing I’d like more, but not with civilians around.”

  The man feinted and then plowed into Thad, hooking a hand behind his knee. The two went down hard.

  A sound to his right had Thad jerking his head around. The scuffle had caught the thief’s attention, and the man had abandoned his hiding place and had raised his weapon, pointing it right at the two men.

  Thad loosened his hold, allowing the enforcer to roll free. They broke apart just as the gun runner fired his flechette. Tiny, veined projectiles stitched their way across the sidewalk. Thad bit back a pained groan as the last flechette in the fusillade embedded itself into his upper thigh. He rolled and the enforcer did the same, which split the gunrunner’s attention. His eyes tracked between Thad and the enforcer, the weapon in his hand wavering. It snapped to the enforcer when the man lunged for the pistol Thad had forced him to drop.

  Thad reached for his P-SCAR, bringing the rifle around while the gunrunner’s attention was fixed on the enforcer. Thad drilled the thief in the shoulder with a quick laser pulse, then dove for cover behind a nearby trash receptacle when he heard the enforcer’s pistol discharge.

  “Not your fight!” the enforcer called once more, and by the sound of his voice, Thad knew the man was retreating.

  He lifted the P-SCAR until its barrel cleared the trash bin and he used its automatic sights to fire a final shot at the man’s retreating back. The man stumbled, but then recovered, rounding a corner and disappearing from sight.

  Both men temporarily out of the picture, Thad dropped the P-SCAR and bent to examine his thigh.

  His last roll had driven the flechette deeper into the muscle until only the fletching remained. He wrapped his fingers around the small metal protruding from his leg, gritted his teeth, and yanked.

  The projectile’s barbed head ripped its way through his flesh on its way back out. The initial runnel of blood became a sluggish stream, dripping its way down his leg. He swiped at the wound, examining the entry point with a critical eye. He’d been injured enough to know that, as wounds went, this was on the superficial side; his medical nano would eventually repair it.

  He used his knife to cut two long strips from the t-shirt he still wore beneath the synthsilk he’d donned. Balling one up, he stuffed it into the wound, biting back a mental yell. He wrapped the other around his thigh and tightened it, stanching the blood.

  A sound from behind had him turning his rifle on the new threat. He sent the barrel skyward when he registered a pair of scared faces peering back at him.

  “What part of ‘run’ did you not understand?” he growled at them. His hold on the P-SCAR was slippery, the grip slick with blood. He shifted it to his free hand, absently swiping his palm on the front of his shirt to clean off the blood.

  His action caused the girls’ eyes to widen. He ignored their response, cognizant of the dangers that still lurked in the sky park. He repeated the action with his other hand while bestowing his best Marine glower on the two girls.

  “Rule number one,” he bit out as he used the tail of his shirt to clean off the P-SCAR’s grip. “Someone gives you an order, you obey immediately, no questions asked.”

  “We’re not in the military,” one girl said timidly.

  “You think that matters right now? The shi— stuff,” he rapidly self-edited to shield tender young ears, “going down right now has turned this place into a combat zone. That means you do what I say, no argument. Now, get your shiny little heinies to the nearest hut, now. Do I make myself clear?”

  “But you’re injured,” the other was brave enough to protest.


  “I’m a Marine,” he countered, though the thought immediately popped inside his head, Not any longer. You’re SRU. “I’m used to it. Now, go on. Scoot.”

  To Thad’s great relief, the girls pivoted and ran. He rolled to his feet, groaning as his thigh throbbed. For good measure, and just for pissing him off, he shot the unconscious thief once more before following the enforcer into the forested landscape.

  30: ARCHANGEL

  Clock Tower

  Boone puzzled through Thad’s parting words as he rolled up onto the steel casing of the comm node. Though he’d known the lieutenant less than a day, the man’s turn of phrase had sent him reaching for the translator in his wire’s database more than once. In this instance, context gave him a pretty good feel for what Thad’s ‘going roday’ meant.

  Problem is, she hasn’t done anything concrete yet to prove she’s ‘gone roday.’ The only thing I have right now is a gut feeling.

  Dismissing that for now, he turned back to the task of setting up the Kingsolver. The Sniper Weapons System had come with a tripod. This, he wedged into the space between the comm node and the ledge. He brought the barrel to rest in the tripod’s cradle, the rifle’s butt tucked securely into the pocket of his shoulder. With a thought, he brought the optics’ holographic reticle online.

  Ordinarily, he’d have a spotter working alongside him, to guard his six while his focus narrowed to the world inside the reticle. Since that wasn’t an option, he’d use the SI alternative the SWS offered. A biometric scanner at the base of the weapon’s stock opened a hidden door. Boone touched it and out dropped a small ‘spotter’ microdrone. The smart program would act as his eyes and ears, monitoring his immediate surroundings while Boone concentrated entirely on what could be seen through his scope.

  As overwatch, Boone kept the rifle armed and its SmartLock targeting system active. He didn’t expect to use it, but like he’d told Thad earlier, it was better to have it and not need it.

  None of them had come to the sky park today expecting battle. They were operating lean, thrown into this with zero mission prep. The way the day had gone so far, he preferred to be overprepared.

  Boone settled into a routine, his sweep taking him from one edge of the sky park to the other. He began by scanning Ramirez’s sector, the building they’d tagged as Bungee One.

  As he located his platoon mate, the IFF app embedded in the scope briefly flashed green and an icon popped up, confirming the corporal’s identity. The Kingsolver’s barrel tracked the man as he slipped inside the building.

  Boone panned the scope across the building’s outer walls to see if he could spot any hot spots on infrared. Nothing showed but the uniform yellow, fading to green, as the building’s metallic surface cooled under the waning sunlight. That didn’t mean the building was clear; an enforcer wouldn’t show up in his scope if they wore clothing made from EM-blocking metamaterials.

  Ramirez was going to have to clear the building the old-fashioned way. So would Davila, who’d been tasked with clearing Bungee Two. This should pose no problem for either Marine. They’d conducted this same clearing exercise countless times while deployed, only this time, they didn’t have to worry about zero-g or explosive decompression. It wasn’t without its dangers, though.

  Boone was glad to see Ramirez taking this seriously. Weapons didn’t much care if they were wielded by a pirate in the Atliekas or a cartel enforcer at a carnival.

  With nothing to report on Bungee One, Boone shifted to the next location, the rifle’s barrel drifting down and to the left, inscribing a long, slow arc as he sought movement through his scope.

  Twice he stopped. Both times, the scope revealed small clusters of civilians, people who’d opted to ignore the warning and remain outside. He shook his head and moved on.

  The lazy river area was thick with foliage, ideal for cover. Boone cycled to IR once more and instantly found a heat signature, slowly advancing through the cool blues and greens of the thickly treed area. The IFF app flashed green once more, this time confirming Thad’s identity.

  Tiny IR signatures scurried ahead of the lieutenant, an advance guard of birds and small land creatures that had somehow made their way up onto the platform. Boone widened his search from that center point and, after several long minutes without spotting any other signatures, reported in.

  {LT. Nothing in your immediate vicinity.}

  {Nothing?} Thad sounded annoyed.

  Boone widened his search, ignoring the clusters of hot spots crowded inside nearby buildings. {Nearest movement’s deeper in. Looks like a cluster of civilians heading for the tiki huts by the saltwater pool.}

  Thad gave a two-click. Boone moved on.

  His next stop was the cluster of ships and concession stands directly below his perch. He caught a quick glimpse of Gabe as the agent ducked around the corner of a building, his form briefly lit by IFF green.

  Boone had just begun widening his search around Gabe when the agent’s odd actions registered. Puzzled, Boone centered on Gabe as the man backtracked a few steps, bent, and snatched something from the ground.

  Boone zoomed in on the item in Gabe’s hand. It looked like a shapeless glob of raw ActiveFiber material, the kind used by the entertainment carnies that roamed the sky park’s sidewalks to create impromptu sculptures for visitors.

  Now, I wonder what he plans to do with that…

  * * *

  Gabe had tracked down his share of suspects during his career as a special agent, but by and large, they’d been in urban areas. When Thad began divvying up the sky park, Gabe quickly offered to cover the town square, leaving the dense, jungle-like sectors to the two operators with more experience in that environment.

  The fleeting glimpse of a figure disappearing behind one of the concession stands confirmed Gabe was not alone, but there were signs that suggested more than one person lurked in the area.

  See one, think two.

  The old adage wound through his mind, the thought spurring him to consider ways he might stack the deck in his favor. Which led to the shapeless form he held in his hands.

  There were any number of ways he could put the abandoned clump of ActiveFiber to use. ActiveFiber’s superlattice architecture was easily tunable, its ‘carrier wave’ receptive to any neural wire interface and capable of carrying out any number of basic commands.

  His mind burned through several options, finally landing on the simplest: he would lay traps between buildings at several points of egress. There was enough ActiveFiber to extrude long ropes of high-tensile strength wire, thin enough to be missed by even augmented vision.

  The soft scrape that sounded up ahead goaded him into action.

  He worked swiftly, stringing the strands between buildings at knee level. Each time he set a trap, he marked its position carefully on his overlay. When the time came to run the gauntlet, Gabe was determined he’d be the only one to get through it unscathed.

  Then there was the final piece of ActiveFiber he’d retained, the one he’d fashioned into a garrote…

  31: CAMOUFLAGE

  Lazy River

  The second of the sky park’s two lazy rivers boasted a ribbon of water that doubled back upon itself in several places. By the time Asha reached it, the late afternoon sun was nearing the platform’s horizon, casting the densely treed area in a pseudo-twilight.

  Thick, leafy branches from trees and brush partially obscured her view, casting long shadows across the water’s ceramacrete banks. The water gurgled softly, the current drawing empty boats along. They slid by on an endless loop, their seats devoid of passengers.

  Asha crouched beside a cluster of bushes and did a careful visual sweep of her surroundings before digging her fingers into the soft loam at the base of one of the plants. Her hand came back up, filled with dirt, dried leaves, and moss. Reaching around for the small water pod still attached to her belt from earlier in the day, she carefully squeezed a small amount into the mix, creating a mud pack. This was quickly applied to
arms and face.

  That done, she rose and began to ease her way forward through the brush. She heard a splash in the distance and moved silently toward it, darting from cover to cover. The dense foliage provided layers of concealment, which was both boon and hindrance. She divided her attention between the area ahead and the ground beneath her feet, careful placement rendering her steps silent.

  Asha heard a noise just ahead, the rustling soft enough that it could have been caused by a bird or a rodent. Somehow or another, small creatures always seemed to find their way onto places like this.

  She moved laterally with respect to the sound, her feet automatically seeking a path that would allow her to close at an oblique angle while offering the best cover. Whoever, or whatever, it was seemed intent upon moving toward the water.

  There was a splash several meters ahead and to her left. It could have been made by one of the boats floating silently by as the water slapped gently against its sides. It could have been made by a small animal.

  Or a big one, she thought. The large, sentient kind.

  Asha went with her gut. She crept closer, positioning herself behind a bush that would provide her with a clear view of the boats as they drifted past. Then she stilled, melting into the shadows, and waited for whoever or whatever had made the sound to float closer.

  Her eye on the reticle of her P-SCAR, she stroked her thumb down the rifle’s biometric scanner to arm it. She tracked each small, covered boat as it neared, finger resting on the frame just above the trigger.

  She had little warning. An awareness brushed at the back of her neck, causing the fine hairs to rise. She threw herself forward at the same time Boone’s voice sounded inside her head.

  {Asha! Down!}

  * * *

  Boone had fallen into a rhythm, cycling through the sky park and zeroing in on each team member, one after the other. He’d pause to scan the immediate area for unseen threats before moving on to the next.