Subtle weapon, p.23
Subtle Weapon, page 23
part #2 of ShadowTech Series
“Fine.”
“You need to pull back.”
“Can’t. Too close.”
Wrench thumped his desk. “They’re going to wipe us out!”
Deva pulled up Gamma’s feed. The image blurred with distortion, the shape of Ions flickering in and out, swarming the Nyx.
“Should be able to out-fly them,” she said to Wrench.
He shook his head. “Already got damage. Couple of hits, knocked out stabilisers.”
Damn! Without stabilisers, the Nyx couldn’t take evasive action.
And the pilot knew it. The Nyx curved away from the volcano, headed out to sea.
“You’ve lost back-up, Kee!”
“They weren’t back-up. They were a diversion.”
Keelin’s voice was too calm, too steady. Sky grew in her feed, the top of the cliff approaching. Another missile shot down, and Keelin twisted. The feed shuddered as the missile screamed past the Ion.
Then she was over, flipped across the ridge, down the other side. The view shifted from rock to sky to trees.
In the drone feed, the Heralds on the ground scurried about, desperate to retreat. But the white heat-dots of Kaiahive surrounded them.
Lise pushed her chair back. She stabbed a finger at the terminal, hard and decisive.
A claxon sounded. A warning message flashed up before Deva. The red glow blurred in her eyes, made it impossible to read the letters.
Wrench swore. He stood. “Should’ve done this ages ago.”
“Wasn’t my call,” Lise said. She turned to Deva. “We’re evacuating.”
Gamma’s feed blurred as the Nyx turned, dodging an Ion that had somehow got in front of the craft. But others flanked Gamma, and their weapons flared.
The feed exploded in static.
And Keelin dove toward the trees.
Deva shook her head. “Not leaving Keelin.”
A blur, to Keelin’s left. An alert flashed.
“You’ve got incoming!” Deva screamed.
“I’m aware.”
The feed twisted, Keelin levelling out, spinning. Ions filled the sky around her, too many to count.
“Get the hell out of there!”
“No.”
Deva shuddered. That single word was too cold, too calm.
Shapes swirled in the feed, shuddering with the old tech. Data flashed red.
“You’re hit!”
“Glancing blow. Correcting.”
“Two minutes to arrival,” Lise said. The words meant nothing to Deva.
The feed filled with trees, and Deva yelled. Data screamed.
Then blue sky.
In the rear feed, smoke rose, black and dense.
“One down,” Keelin said. “Idiot didn’t see the trunk.”
“Still too many.”
Keelin dodged incoming fire and desperate fighters. The feed jerked. For a moment it was filled with metal, then flames, billowing, shuddering. Data yelled of collisions.
Smoke, clearing. Trees and sky, rock in the distance. Keelin banked.
“Get out of there!” Retreat!”
Keelin ignored her, throwing the Ion into a spin, slipping past a couple of Kaiahive craft, almost touching.
There was no impact. Keelin was evading, not destroying.
She didn’t have enough weapons to take out this number.
“Almost at target.”
Shapes appeared through the thinning canopy of branches. Keelin cursed. The feed buckled. An Ion shot past, banked hard. Fired. Keelin flipped onto her side. The whole feed stuttered with distortion.
“Kee?”
“…okay…call.”
“You’re breaking up!”
Trees sprung into view, Keelin too low.
“Going…try…”
“Keelin?”
“…Ryann…”
“Kee!”
And then the feed cut to static.
Ryann
Ryann watched the young guard fall to the ground. She watched over the top of his companion’s Preben, still in her hands. The connection with her lattice informed her that one charge had been used.
The young guard didn’t move. Ryann couldn’t pull her eyes from the dark patch that grew beneath his body.
“I’m sorry.”
The words slipped from her lips, so pathetically inconsequential. But she repeated them. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have a choice.”
She sniffed, and that freed her. She relaxed her arms and stood. Sharp pain flared in her side.
She inspected the wound, carefully pulling apart the bloody strips of her top. The guard’s knife had been sharp, and the finger-length wound was neat. Aided by her lattice, her muscles held the wound together while a net of platelets formed. As long as she was careful, and didn’t infect the wound, it wouldn’t be fatal.
Fatal.
She’d killed two men.
She swallowed the rising bile. The deed was done. One body lay in the shadows, the other in the open.
Where sensors could see. It—he—needed moving.
But a small, still voice in the back of her mind told her to run. It pushed through her regret and sadness, and it made sense.
Ryann rushed into the opening. Moyna said the tunnels stretched out like a warren. She’d be safe there. Her lenses auto-filtered, cast the passage in the familiar green of night-vision.
The Preben grew heavy in her hands—she was surprised she still held it—and she tucked it down the waist of her trousers. A part of her wanted to throw the instrument of destruction away, but a more coherent voice told her it might be useful later. It was an ugly kind of comfort, digging into her flesh.
The first tunnel was wide and ragged, and the ground was treacherous, uncomfortable through her boots.
But they weren’t her boots, were they? They’d replaced hers with this softer pair, comfortable for flat ground but unsuitable for clambering over rough terrain. She felt every edge and every bump. She stumbled, her palms already rough from grazing the hard rock.
The light from the cavern faded. Ryann hurried on through the darkness. The passage dipped then rose.
There was a shout from behind. It was sharp, the echoes swamping her.
Don’t stop, a voice inside screamed. They’re after you.
Ryann heard more boots. They clomped—heavier than the ones she wore, and more suited to this terrain. Those wearing the boots would have weapons on their hips, and they’d know these passages. They’d have access to scans and pre-quake maps.
She reached a crack in the left wall, large enough to climb through. Beyond was a vertical shaft, a natural chimney, and it extended far enough that the top was hidden.
It could be a dead-end. But so could any of these passages.
She pushed, tried to find a connection to the system. But she was too far away. The dampening field shrouded her in a blanket.
She might as well give up now. They’d find her sooner or later. Wouldn’t it be better to wait for them to catch up? She could explain to Macklyn him how the first guard wanted to assault her, how she only killed in self-defence.
And how she never meant to kill the young one.
Ryann shook her head. He’d never accept that. What she’d done was indefensible. If she let them take her, she’d be sealed in a cell. Macklyn might order her removal, or arrange an accident.
She didn’t have a choice. She had to continue.
But which way? The boots echoed all around. She couldn’t afford to back-track. The chimney might grow too narrow, but equally the passage might lead to a blockage or dead end.
Macklyn would expect her to keep moving, and to take the path of least resistance. So she’d climb the chimney. The walls were rough, providing plenty of holds for hands and feet.
Ryann slid through the crack and started to climb.
Piran
“Yes! Keep climbing.” Piran pumped his fist into the air as Ryann clambered up the chimney.
There was an updated scan-map thing in the records, and Piran had it displayed in his lenses, switching between schematic and virtual render. The flat path—the easy option—doubled back, would’ve meant cutting through a tiny gap, too small for Ryann.
So he’d yelled at her to climb, pushing the message out through the hybrid as hard as he could. Feedback data from the hybrid showed comforting patterns.
But what wasn’t comforting was the warning from his cloak. It flashed in his peripheral vision, an insistent orange beacon. Not a breach yet, but a warning—detector routines in the base’s system were nudging too close.
<Up! Up!>
Guards followed her. Piran connected, knew exactly where they were. Five of them, sure-footed, didn’t waste breath on talking. Professional.
If they caught Ryann in that chimney, all they had to do was fire their weapons. No way they’d miss.
<Faster, Ryann!>
There were three guards back in the chamber. One of them knelt by the bodies and shook his head. Piran caught a signal, assumed the guy was calling for medical assistance. Or someone to take the bodies away.
And back in the tunnel, Ryann climbed on.
<Almost at the top. Keep going.>
The guards reached the bottom of the chimney. Their sussing echoed through Piran’s lattice. There was only a hint of distortion, his lattice reducing the effects of the dampening now.
<Easy climb.>
<Could just shoot.>
<Risk of bringing rock down. Unstable here.>
<So we follow?>
<We follow.>
But Ryann had reached the top. She stood in a small chamber. Looked like there was a ledge to one side. Hard to make out these maps, even with rendering.
<Need to keep moving. They’re right behind you.>
They climbed fast. Half-way up already.
But Ryann didn’t move. Piran read her lattice, figured she was catching her breath.
<Move. Along the ledge. There’s an exit to your right.>
Ryann remained where she was.
<Ledge! Right!>
Mutterings from the guards, the lead climbing too slow, said they had to be cautious. Someone overtook, squeezing past. Raced ahead.
“Bloody get going!”
Ryann jumped onto the ledge and squeezed through the gap to the right.
Deva
Deva turned, frantic. “What happened?”
“She’s down,” Wrench said. He didn’t look at her. “Sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Lise said. “We need to go.”
The woman moved to the door, but Deva remained in her seat, staring at the dark feed. And the feed next to it was gone too.
“We’ve lost the drone.”
“Ion took it out,” Wrench said. “Means we can’t monitor the ground forces. Not that things were going well for them. But you saw that, right? We expected them to come down from the volcano, but not the ones hiding. Not the snipers.”
“Snipers?”
“We got reports. Hiding in the trees, took us out from the rear.”
“So they knew where we were.”
“They knew everything.”
His voice was hollow. When she looked at him—and he stood next to her now—his eyes were moist, his skin pale.
But they—Kaiahive—didn’t know everything. They didn’t know what Keelin had planned. Because not even Keelin knew, did she?
If she was still alive. The feeds were dodgy old tech. Keelin was the best pilot Deva had ever met. Even if she’d had to bring the Ion down, she’d get out. And she was a NeoGen. She’d know how to avoid trouble. And how to deal with it when it found her.
She’d be fine. She had to be.
“Come on.” Wrench held out a hand. “Can’t stay here. Need to go.”
“Where?”
“Evac protocol. We’ve got submersibles ready. Location Seven.”
But that wasn’t what she meant. Kaiahive were everywhere. Running didn’t make a difference.
She’d tried, too many times. Stowed away to escape Metis, reached Haven—Kaiahive’s outpost. Got to the edge of Haven’s working area, kept going, still ended up a part of the company’s games. Then, with Ryann, Keelin, Brice and Piran. In a Proteus flying away from danger. Thoughts of being safe, of being free. But Kaiahive were there, in the desert, in the abandoned places.
“Can’t,” she said. She blinked, swallowed.
“I’ll lead you. It’s not a problem.”
Foolish. It was all a problem.
“I’m not leaving you.” Wrench shuffled closer.
If she went, she was leaving Keelin behind. And Ryann. And the boys.
“Still alive,” she heard herself say.
“No way of knowing. I’m…I’m sorry. She was a good pilot. I know that. Never got to meet her, but…but I know she was special. Unique. Don’t mean that in a bad way.” He swallowed. “This isn’t coming out well. She was one of a kind. Like you. Been through hell, come out the other side stronger for it. Both of you. And you stuck around, helped us. Says a lot about you. And…and I reckon she’d want you to be safe. Right? Friends look out for one another. She wouldn’t want you stuck here when…when they come.”
The way Wrench spoke, as if Keelin was gone—it raked across Deva’s heart, tore her up inside.
She shook her head. “She’ll be okay.”
Wrench nodded, then guided her to the door.
Brice
They’d sent a couple of men in full body-suits to clean the room. Three guards blocked the doorway, weapons ready. Brice and Fen stood at the back, either side of the bucket. A voice told them to remove all their clothing and leave them in a heap by the door.
Brice tried not to look at Fen, almost didn’t notice her ribs against the smooth flesh of her stomach, her other curves flattened. Felt her examining him, too. Couldn’t make out what she thought, and he didn’t catch any sussing.
One of the guards took the clothes, passed in spares. “Temporary, while we clean yours,” the voice said as Brice picked up the grey all-in-one, omni-size with straps and webbing to tighten as appropriate. “We’ll get you footwear later.”
<No boots?> Fenn sussed, to Brice—but he detected a widening of the link, knew she was letting Macklyn listen in too. <Going to make running hard.>
Running? She wasn’t about to start jogging in the cell, so that could only mean one thing.
She thought he was ready. For whatever she and Macklyn had planned.
They dressed, and she looked healthier in the all-in-one. Probably because it didn’t cling too tight, hid her thinness. Her face was still pale, though, and she constantly tapped her fingers against her leg.
<Time?> This was tight to Macklyn.
<If you think he’s ready.>
<Not sure. But only one way to find out.>
<We proceed as agreed.>
Brice had overheard no agreement. Had he missed it, or was this all pre-arranged?
He pushed into the connection with Macklyn. It was easier now, as simple as turning his head. The man felt calm and in control.
<As agreed,> Fen sussed. <Starting.>
She gave Brice a pained smile, then winced, hand on stomach. <You want to get out of here, just play along.>
Before he could respond she moaned, doubled over.
“Pain again?” he asked.
“What do you think, arsehole.” She cried out, reached for the wall.
He rushed over—but not too fast. Didn’t get to her before she stumbled, collapsed onto her bunk. She spasmed, cried out again, slid down. Landed on his feet, almost knocked him over.
He spun, faced the sensor over the door. “Need a medic in here.”
Fen screamed, twisted. Her eyes were squeezed tight enough that tears flowed. She curled up in a foetal position.
Brice addressed the sensor again. “She dies, your guards aren’t going to appreciate the stink after a couple of days.”
“Arsehole. Aah! Hurts! Get me a bloody medic!” She coughed, her whole body shaking. Hair clung to her damp forehead.
Brice reached over. Wasn’t anything he could do, though, and his hand hovered.
He pulled it back, stood, walked to the door. Hammered his fist on it. Even though they knew something was up.
He hammered again. “Get someone in here!”
Fen writhed. She let loose sounds—sobs, yells and cries. No words.
“Stand back!”
The voice came from the ceiling. Brice stepped away from the door, over to the wall.
The door opened. A guard with raised Preben scanned the cell. She scowled at Brice, then looked down to the moaning Fen.
“Ah, hell!” She turned. “Genuine. You two, in here.”
She stepped aside, and two medics rushed in. One bent down next to Fen. The other approached Brice.
“This been going on for a while?”
“Check the sensors.”
There was a bulge at the man’s hip, a weapon under his medic’s shirt. The other medic wore a holster too, plain to see as he lowered himself onto his haunches, reached out one hand to touch Fen’s shoulder.
She yelled, and spun.
And Brice understood her play.
The moment she kicked out he ducked, reaching forward for the standing medic’s concealed weapon. The medic went for it too, but Brice was faster, pushed the hand away, rammed his fist into the man’s thigh. The medic staggered. Brice slammed him against the wall.
The other medic fell, clutching his ankle. His cry had been sharp, and there was a white-hot flash from his lattice.
Brice felt three new lattices—the two medics and the guard. They were all active, a flurry of sussing too fast for Brice to catch.
This all happened in a second, and then Fen rolled, reached out, pushed herself to her feet. She had the medic’s gun in her hands, aimed it at the guard.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, stomach pains no longer apparent.
Brice took a heartbeat to assess. One medic on the floor, clutching his ankle. Might have a second weapon on him, but pain stopped him going for it. The other medic up against the wall, struggling under Brice’s hold and getting nowhere. And the guard stood in the doorway, gun still aimed into the cell.
