Warden 1

by Isaac Hooke

  The screams of the runt, meanwhile, faded as the creature receded into the dead forest.

  Rhea focused on Gizmo’s feed, and watched the newcomer approach the house while the others fed. Some of the smaller Werangs that had given up on finding any food inside the house watched from the sidelines.

  Far side of the lower rooftop, Will ordered. Now!

  Stay low, Horatio said. There are other Werangs watching, now.

  Rhea and the others low-crawled toward the side of the house closest to the dead forest, away from the incoming Werang, and when they reached it, they lowered themselves to the rooftop of the first floor below. They flattened themselves to the surface once more, because there were Werangs waiting on the ground beyond.

  Via the drone, they watched the bioweapon clamber onto the far side of the first roof, and then the second. It proceeded toward the chimney, guided by its feeler tentacles.

  It’s following our scent trail, Rhea said.

  I know, Will said. Which is why we have to keep moving. We’ll just keep crawling in circles around the second-floor roof. And if it finds us, we shoot it.

  This Werang was about twice as big as the previous, and it moved almost twice as fast. Rhea and the others were already low crawling, moving to the far side of the first-floor rooftop. They hugged the walls of the second level beside them.

  The Werang clambered onto the first floor behind them and proceeded to follow once more.

  It’s going to overtake us, Horatio said. We have to switch to a crouch.

  Then we’ll be spotted, Will said. Especially on this side. We’ll loop back to the far side and climb back onto the roof. Then clamber down the chimney.

  What if it’s not wide enough to fit us, Rhea said.

  Then we’re screwed, Will said.

  They proceeded to the far side, where they had climbed down, and then Rhea helped Will onto the second-floor roof. She leaped up, grabbed the tiles beyond the eavesdrop, and pulled herself up. Horatio did the same. They cleared the edge just in time before the Werang that stalked them appeared.

  They low-crawled from the lip of the roof, and then crouched to hurry the rest of the way to the chimney.

  Will gazed inside. Crap.

  She glanced over the top edge of the chimney to look inside as well: far too tight to fit any of them.

  Rhea glanced over her shoulder.

  Behind her, the tips of the Werang’s tentacles had already appeared along the edges of the rooftop as it followed their most recent scent trail.

  14

  The other side! Rhea sent.

  But Will and Horatio were already diving past the chimney. She followed them and ducked behind it before the Werang’s head appeared. She pressed tightly against Will.

  Be ready, Will transmitted.

  She hefted her pistol in both hands, waiting for the word.

  Perhaps we can try for the hole in the first-floor roof, Horatio suggested.

  Too late now, Will sent. Besides, there are Werangs inside the house.

  Rhea gazed at the rooftop. But not the attic, she thought. She could conceivably tear away the planks, or punch a path through, however the noise would draw the creature even faster. No, the only play here was to fight the Werang head on and hope they could cause enough damage to scare it off. And if not, she was soon going to be so many machine parts.

  Seeker tentacles appeared along the upper left side of the chimney, next to Horatio.

  But then a scream came from the east. It was deeper than the screams of the runt, as if belonging to a bigger Werang.

  Those tendrils instantly withdrew. The rooftop shook violently; that, along with the loud thuds that accompanied the vibrations, told Rhea the Werang was retreating toward the scream.

  The shaking stopped and the thudding receded in volume; through Gizmo’s cameras, she watched the Werang weave across the grounds below.

  She cautiously peered past the edge of the chimney, wanting to confirm with her own eyes that the creature was indeed gone. There was nothing there.

  She returned her attention to the drone’s feed and focused on the source of the commotion to the east. She spotted a man dangling from the branches of one of the dead trees that lined the perimeter. He was dressed in grey fatigues, with a mid-length black cape dangling down his back, and a thick utility belt at his waist.

  No wait, not a man, but a cyborg of some kind, judging from the long, robotic tail that protruded from his tailbone area at the bottom of the cape. It slithered behind him, tipped by formidable-looking spinning blades.

  He was firing an energy rifle with one hand at a Werang below him. The creature attempted to dodge the blows and screamed whenever the man scored a hit. The Werang suddenly leaped at him, but he jumped to the branch of another tree three meters away—definitely a cyborg, given the strength and agility such a jump required. The branch broke beneath him, but he was already vaulting onto a more sturdy candidate.

  Two more Werangs arrived, one of them the big creature that had just vacated the rooftop. The first threw itself at the base of the tree, attempting to knock it over. When that didn’t work, the second leaped up, its shark-like jaws breaking through the thick branches, and forcing the man to jump to yet another tree. He fired in midair, but missed his mark, hitting the Werang just below the eye.

  “You really gotta equip that drone of yours with a laser,” Rhea said. She waited a moment longer, tensing up all over as she watched. Then: “I’m helping him.”

  She raised her pistol.

  Will shoved her arm down. “Don’t. You’ll give away our position.”

  “Then I’ll leave the rooftop before opening fire. So you’re not exposed.” She started to stand.

  Will rested a hand on her shoulder, stopping her once again. “You can’t save him. Probably a bandit anyway.”

  She tried to check the man’s public profile but got nothing: probably too far. Then again, if he were a bandit, he would’ve probably disabled it.

  “I thought bandits congregated in groups out here?” she said.

  “Lone wolves aren’t unheard of,” Will clarified.

  “It’s also possible he was separated from his friends,” Horatio chimed in. “Or they were killed off. Either way, listen to Will: there’s nothing we can do for this man.”

  Rhea watched the lone fighter continue to hold his ground against those bioweapons. A Werang leaped up and swiped at him, but he dodged, and cut off a portion of its foreleg with the rotating blade of his robotic tail. He followed up with a rifle blast that just missed its eye, and he was forced to vault onto another tree as a second Werang snatched at him with those shark-like jaws.

  “You found me alone in the Outlands,” she said. “You didn’t automatically assume I was a bandit.”

  Will exchanged a curios glance with Horatio that made Rhea wonder if Will had in fact assumed such a thing.

  But then Will shook his head. “Your case was different. You weren’t surrounded by bioweapons. We didn’t risk too much in reviving you, especially considering you had no body. This dude’s screwed. There’s nothing we can do for him. Not unless we all want to die. Think of it this way: he’s not dying for nothing, but giving his life so that we can live. Let him be our decoy.”

  Rhea gazed at the trapped cyborg a moment longer. He had been lucky so far, but he wouldn’t last for much longer, not with more Werangs joining the fray all the time: every runt with nothing to eat was rushing to take part in the excitement. The bioweapons that had gotten there first snapped at these new arrivals, trying to stave them off.

  She glanced over her shoulder, toward the opposite side of the clearing. The other, bigger Werangs continued to eat their captured Kargs peacefully. They couldn’t see this latest disturbance, as their view was blocked by the main farmhouse, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t hear it—tentacles perked up when there was an exceptionally loud sound, such as a snapping branch. Even so, for the moment these Werangs were content to ignore the fighting
and enjoy their meal.

  She returned her attention to the fore. A fight had broken out between two of the runts as they fought over who would have the privilege of capturing the tasty morsel that yet danced in the trees.

  If she wanted to strike, now was the time…

  “I beat ten Werangs in training, once,” she said.

  “With the emphasis on once,” Will said. “This is the real world, not training!”

  “Stay here, then.” She left cover before Will could stop her and took a running leap off the roof. She vaulted over the first-floor rooftop below as well and landed on the ground running. Her legs buckled severely, but she managed to recover.

  This body has limits, she reminded herself. It’s not my own. She turned her attention to the Werangs that were fighting amongst themselves ahead. Focus.

  Damn it, Rhea, come back! Will sent. It’s not worth your life!

  She ignored him. She wouldn’t stand by while a fellow human being was in danger. Or in this instance, a fellow cyborg.

  She glanced at her overhead map, and at the view from the drone overlaid just underneath it: none of the bigger Werangs from the other side of the farmhouse were attempting to run her down. They hadn’t seen her. Good.

  She reached a small shed and ducked behind it. Leaning with her back against the wooden planks, she took a moment to collect herself, then aimed past the edge to scan the different Werangs ahead of her. Their backs were to her as they harried the cyborg. Without a clear shot at the eyes, firing at this range was useless—the thick hides would easily absorb her blows. Occasionally one of those heads tilted favorably, giving her a shot, but the moment was fleeting.

  Have to get closer.

  A better firing angle would help, too.

  She spotted the two Werangs that were attacking one another and decided they would be her first targets.

  She left cover and weaved between the outbuildings, attempting to come at the pair from the flank. She kept her pistol aimed at them as she ran. Her hand remained relatively stable the whole time, her wrist and upper arm acting as a three-axis gimbal so that her aim proved just as accurate as if she were standing still. It was a trick she had learned while training with Bardain, a mind-machine technique that had come to her “most naturally,” as he put it.

  When the eye of one of the dueling Werangs finally came into her line of fire, she took the shot.

  The Werang turned its head at the last instant, owing to its opponent raking a clawed paw down its side, and her shot missed, grazing that shark-like face. It squealed in pain—from both her attack and its opponent’s. The creature began to tilt its head toward her again as if intending to look at her, but its attention was quickly drawn back to the other Werang, whose jaws were fast coming down on its throat.

  Neither of their eyes were within her field of view at the moment, nor were the eyes of any of the others beyond, who yet had their backs turned to her while they assaulted the cyborg in the trees.

  Rhea swerved wide in an attempt to get a better firing angle. Outbuildings went by in a blur. A moment later she passed the estate’s empty grain silos. Between the metallic cylinders, she caught sight of the fighting Werangs: the first had pinned the second to the ground and was slowly draining the life out of it. She had attained the firing angle she sought: the eye of the one on top was within sight.

  She immediately slowed and aimed between two of the silos. She squeezed the trigger, hitting the topmost Werang square in the eye.

  The stricken creature released the first and backed away howling. Yellow blood squirted from its eye.

  The second Werang, no longer pinned, stood up, and took a moment to shake its head, then it pounced on the squealing creature, pinning it in turn. Just like that, their positions had swapped. The trapped creature tried to stave off the aggressor with its tentacles, but the latter’s jaws were set in a viselike grip.

  Rhea dashed between the silos and ran directly toward the two Werangs. She leaped onto the furry leg of the one on top and scrambled upward rapidly, bunching up the hair in her fists to form handholds. Up close, the creature stank, and she wrinkled her nose, doing her best to ignore the smell—a mixture of feces, sweat, and pheromones. Pieces of shed fur attached all along the inside of her arms and legs, clinging to her gray uniform. When she reached the Werang’s back, she clambered to her feet, and raced toward the head. Her feet sank into the bristly fur with each step.

  The beast stirred, moving its head slightly from side to side in an attempt to see what was on its back, but meanwhile it refused to relinquish its hold on the Werang it held down.

  She reached the area on the neck where black fur transitioned into gray sharkskin and leaped off in an arc. As she passed the rightmost eye, she fired directly into it, at point-blank range. Yellow blood spurted from the wound, and the creature slid off the first Werang, following her to the ground.

  Rhea rolled when she hit the hard earth and clambered to her feet, raising her weapon, ready to fire at the Werang in case it got up again.

  It did not.

  Because its chest didn’t rise and fall, she assumed it was dead. In training, the smaller Werangs could die from an energy blast to the eye, especially if such a blow came from extremely close range.

  She shifted her aim to the second Werang, which was no longer pinned. Its eyes had rolled up in its head, and yellow blood pooled underneath the neck wound the other attacker had inflicted. It, too, no longer breathed.

  Loud footfalls brought her back to the fight at hand, and she turned her attention on the remaining Werangs. She noted that there were four other bioweapon corpses scattered about the bases of the broken trees: the cyborg was holding his ground well, considering that unlike her, he didn’t have the advantage of attacking from behind.

  One of the runts was backing away toward her as it eyed the man in the treetops, and she decided that one would serve as her next target.

  The thought lasted for only the briefest of instants, because a different runt had spotted her and was fast barreling down upon her.

  Another Werang noticed the creature dart past and turned to see what the other tracked; that one, too, spotted Rhea. Squealing in delight, it joined in the rush.

  Uh oh.

  Those heads bobbed up and down as they ran, making it difficult to track the eyes. She aimed, letting off several quick shots at the closer Werang. Her first shot missed, hitting the surrounding tissue; the creature shut its eyelid so that her subsequent shots struck only thick skin.

  She switched to the rightmost eye and was unlucky again. Her first shot struck just below the target, and the creature closed that eye, opening the left one instead.

  Rhea had left behind the outbuildings and was close to the perimeter of the dead forest at the moment. She raced for the treeline, but quickly realized she wasn’t going to make it.

  The two Werangs continued straight for her, shark-like mouths open and salivating. They were almost upon her.

  She pivoted her torso to fire, but the first creature lunged at her.

  She dove to the ground, rolling underneath. The tentacles lining the head narrowly missed scooping her up.

  While the Werang was still passing by on top of her, she stood up from her roll and jumped in one smooth motion—an acrobatic movement she instinctively knew—and latched onto its underside, balling her hands into the thick fur.

  The creature turned around, looking for her. Apparently, it hadn’t yet realized she was hanging from its belly. The other Werang was just as confused and spun about uncertainly.

  Then suddenly the Werang above her reared, as if trying to toss her aside. It did that twice, then slammed its belly into the ground, and scraped her across the hard surface. Pain sensors flared across her body, and she let go. An ordinary human would have been pureed by that.

  She hastily accessed the “biological functions” menu of her HUD and disabled pain, leaving only tactile sensations active. The flaring agony was replaced by an uncomfortabl
e scrubbing feeling that ran along her upper body and abdomen as the Werang continued to drag her forward.

  And then its heavy weight left her.

  She stood up immediately. Though her legs were wobbly at first, none of her servomotors seemed damaged—this body was sturdier than she thought. But she barely had time to contemplate that, because the second Werang shoved its head underneath the body of the first, its maw open to swallow her.

  She leaped out of the way and fired her pistol at its exposed eye: the Werang screamed but did not die. It did withdraw its head and retreat into the forest, however.

  Meanwhile, the other Werang stepped backward, glancing to and fro with its head as it searched for her. Rhea dove behind a downed tree, and lay flat, keeping her pistol aimed upward.

  When that head tilted her way, she lined up her shot with the eye just as the Werang spotted her.

  She squeezed the trigger.

  The Werang screeched as its eye exploded. Rhea fired into the gory hollow that remained, and the Werang backed away, attempting to shield its eye with its tentacles.

  Rhea managed to score three more quick shots in succession, and that was enough to slay the creature: it collapsed, its hulking form causing the ground to shudder when it hit.

  She turned her attention to the other Werangs, half-expecting to find several more of them running toward her in that moment. But the remaining runts had moved deeper into the forest to pursue the cyborg and seemed entirely oblivious to her presence.

  She ran a quick diagnostic check and confirmed that all of her systems were fully functional. There was some external shell damage to her torso and appendages, but otherwise her servos were operating within expected parameters.

  She raced forward. When she passed the perimeter of the dead forest, she threaded between and leaped over the fallen trees, following the path the Werangs had trampled. As she got closer, she fired at the backside of the Werang in the rear. It started in pain, then swung around to look at her.