He fired a second time, sending another pair of spikes onto the same impact points as the first two. These penetrated deep within the tower, sending whips of fire shooting back out of the entry holes. A moment later, the tower evaporated in a massive fuel cell detonation, obliterating the northwest corner of the fortress.
The last of the specter towers was defeated.
Peter dropped the controls, leaping from the cockpit, his hands reaching for two of the tri-bladed silver-laced throwing axes strapped to his chest.
He landed on the floor of the dome, his boots slamming against the polished metal.
Blade against blade combat crackled like a fire storm from the stairwell.
* * *
Chiara traded blows with the advancing praetorians.
The silver-laced dagger grew slick in her grip; blood seeping through the bandages wrapped around the palm of her left hand. The quick stitches she’d applied minutes before were no longer holding under the stress of combat.
The tower shuddered, a roar thundering from deep within the stairwell, blue-flecked shadows dancing fitfully against the walls beyond the vampires.
The praetorians pressed forward. A vampire from the second rank leaping over the front two, diving and twisting overhead.
Chiara reflexively threw her dagger. It slipped in her wet grip, deflecting off the praetorian’s armor before spinning away down the stairwell.
The praetorian landed behind her.
She whirled, ducking instinctively, a double-bladed axe whistling over her head. She launched herself past him, other weapons crashing against the stairs behind her. She ran the outer wall, passing behind his left shoulder to land further up on the metal stairs.
A thin wedge of light cut a line on the inner wall of the stairwell. The landing at the top of the stairs was within view. Explosions thundered against the tower. Peter was still fighting the specter towers. She had to keep the vampires at bay.
Her last silver-laced dagger gleamed in her hand. She blurred in close to the battle-axe wielding vampire, deflecting his attack to the side. Her next move had to succeed, or she’d be left within reach of a much stronger opponent. She thrust up with her blade, driving it beneath his jaw and into his brain.
He froze. The other three vampires rushed past him.
She pushed backward, slashing desperately, leaping back to the forward edge of the landing at the top of the stairs.
The paralyzed vampire’s throat opened up, blood gushing over the smooth lip of raw flesh beneath his jaw in red freshets. He remained standing, frozen in spot and bleeding to death.
Chiara retreated to the middle of the landing.
Three vampires followed her, the two nearest blades grinding against her own desperate defense in a shower of sparks.
A pair of gleaming tri-bladed axes spun past her. The first axe slashed past the nose of the nearest vampire as he jerked his head backward. The second axe collected a second praetorian in the chest, lifting him off his feet and throwing him into the third vampire behind him - sending both falling down the stairs.
The nearest vampire recovered from Peter’s near miss. He slashed down hard against Chiara’s sword, sending it out of her blood-soaked grip to clatter against the stairs.
She fell backwards to the wall, her last silver dagger her only defense.
The praetorian surged forward, his sword rising through a vicious arc.
Peter blurred past her, his battle axes flailing at her assailant. Sparks flew, the vampire’s sword shattering under the onslaught of thicker, heavier metal. Disarmed, he lost his head a moment later in a fountain of blood, Peter kicking his headless corpse down the stairs.
The last vampire rushed back up, leaping over his beheaded comrade. He pulled to a halt a dozen steps below the carnage on the landing. He stared at Peter’s twin battle-axes dropping great splotches of gore onto the floor and Chiara’s bloodied silver-laced dagger. His eyes widened and he broke, vanishing back down the stairwell. A moment later he howled in abject misery before falling deathly silent.
“Hell,” Peter swore, nonplussed. “What was that?” he advanced warily down the stairs. Chiara picked up her fallen sword and followed at his left elbow. In moments they came upon the vampire who’d cried out. He was face down in a growing pool of his own oozing body fluids five steps below them. Wisps of gray vapors rose from every gap in his armor. The whole of his body was surrounded by a blue mist that gently roiled and billowed.
Her lost silver dagger gleamed softly beneath the mists.
Peter put his arm out to stop Chiara advancing, and shook his head. “It’s no good. Some of the fuel cells have spilled into the stairwell. We have to go back up.”
Chiara stared at the miasmic funk of fumes shrouding the stairwell, they rose over another stair and began lapping at the base of the next one. They were trapped in the tower and there was no way out. Her first silver dagger rested on one of the submerged steps - lost for all time.
She turned and followed Peter back up to the dome.
Chapter Nine
“The proposed site of the Panopticon fortress is directly above a multi-chamber magma feature. The geology of the proposed site is deemed to be moderately to significantly unstable. While the chance of a geological event is deemed highly unlikely [< 5%] over the expected life of the proposed facility. In the event of the nearby underground river being redirected into the top-level magma chamber, the risk of a geological event increases to highly likely [> 90%]. A geological event is defined as an event that would result in the total destruction of the proposed facility and would render the site to a radius of ten miles unusable for a replacement at any time during the expected life of the proposed facility.
Internal assessment. ‘Geophysical Safety Pty Ltd,’ registered at [REDACTED].”
- Draft document not sent to the customer.
* * *
The Panopticon Fortress, Command and Control Center, September 11th, 14:48:20
‘Secure the P-Case and evacuate it from the fortress. Under no circumstance allow Slayne to depart the fortress with it. Recapture the nemesis tower, he no doubt plans to use it to facilitate his escape. Take back the tower, or destroy it if necessary to block his escape. Secure the P-Case, or see it and Slayne destroyed!’
Those had been Crane’s last words to him. Clayton mopped his brow with his handkerchief. What the hell was wrong with the air conditioning. No doubt that was breaking down too. Everything else was well and truly fucked up beyond all recognition. He cast a quick glance around the command and control center. The four praetorians of his personal guard stood grimly around the walls of the chamber. The humans were barely under control, only the newly promoted commander Siobhan Ulysses, showed any real capability to manage her emotions.
The last two minutes of mayhem had been writ large in high definition on the multiple screens lining the walls of the chamber. The fortress was a shambles. The specter towers were destroyed. Both the main power stations were down. The Panopticon was in ‘evacuation mode,’ transferring itself into a P-Case for transport offsite, leaving only ‘dumb,’ secondary systems in operation.
He’d witnessed two praetorians lose their weapons. Their blades disappearing in plumes of super-heated metal as they’d been taken apart in the main server room guardhouse. It seemed the Mirovar team were mostly equipped with dragon blades, siblings of the Red Dragon wielded by Chloe Armitage. While one young woman, little more than a girl, had fought eight praetorians to a near standstill in the stairwell of the nemesis tower. He hated to admit it, but he’d horribly underestimated the true threat of the Mirovar force team. It was clearly a collection of the elite of the Order of Thoth, and demonstrably superior to the other Order teams they’d defeated.
“Sir,” Ulysses called out. “The Panopticon download will complete in two minutes time.”
The nemesis tower was teetering on destruction but still partially operational. The praetorians sent to recapture it were dead to a man. Of the twe
nty-eight praetorians on site after he’d landed with his four squads of reinforcements, only twelve survived. The day guards had been culled from forty-eight to twelve men. The two squads outside the main server room slaughtered in an extended gun fight with the two Slaynes. The other personnel on the base were standard Shadowstone operatives who were functionally useless against Ramp masters and not worth counting.
Or were they?
The Order of Thoth were famous for avoiding ‘innocent deaths.’ It was a weakness of their philosophy and eminently exploitable, all he needed was a group of hostages to use as human shields and he could snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.
A tremor vibrated through the floor for a solid three seconds.
Clayton’s eyes widened. He still had an ace up his sleeve. He’d shift all his effective personnel to the hanger, and have Slayne bring the P-Case to him. He loosened his katana at his belt. It was time to put every last resource he had into the fight in a final do or die effort.
He cast a steely glance over the humans. “Ulysses, assemble your staff and get them to the underground hanger. Quickly now, we are evacuating the fortress immediately. Recall all praetorians from the cordon on sub-level dash four and send them to the hanger to provide a security force to ensure a safe evacuation of all personnel.”
“Yes, Sir,” she replied, quickly issuing a series of commands.
Clayton smiled dryly and glanced at the praetorians. They all gave knowing looks back. The humans were utterly expendable but may yet prove useful in securing the return of the P-Case.
He followed his unwitting hostages from the command and control center, the four praetorians of his personal guard flanking him.
* * *
Li sent a silent command through the core networks.
The vault doors began opening again.
“What the hell!” Anton swore, whirling to face the expanding gap, his assault rifle snapping up against his shoulder, pointing into the gloomy corridor. He glanced at a counter on the side of his rifle and back at Li. “I’m almost out of ammo.”
Slayne peered into the corridor, strip lighting flickering fitfully within it. “There’s no one there,” he remarked, momentarily perplexed.
“They’ve already gone,” Li declared, emerging from the short corridor leading back into the main server room, her eyes blazing with urgency. “The day guards sent here are dead. All the vampires have left for the hangers. They’re evacuating.”
Slayne grinned derisively. “They’re taking control of the one way out of here. They’re hoping we’ll bring the P-Case to them and hand it over.”
Li frowned and nodded. “That too, but,” she grabbed Anton’s shoulder, pushing him toward the open vault door, “Anton, you must go. You must help Francis and Jay secure the hanger, it’s the only way we can escape. Run, Anton, run as fast as you can. We need you there.”
Anton frowned for an instant, then grinned with a promise of dire consequences for any foes in the hanger. “Consider it done.” He glanced once at his grandfather, and blurred through the doorway, vanishing down the corridor.
Li turned to face Anton’s grandfather. Her head was full of quantum processor fueled insights and it was time for a reckoning. She opened her mouth to ask her first question.
The floor, walls and ceiling vibrated. She crouched reflexively, the flickering lights casting shadows across Slayne’s impassive face.
The elder Slayne closed his eyes for a moment, then stared at her, a knowing look in his eyes as stillness stole back into the room. He didn’t seem surprised by the tremor, and after integrating her mind with the quantum processors - neither was Li.
“This site’s going to blow, and you knew?”
Slayne nodded.
* * *
Peter placed his fifth and last 40mm grenade into his multi-grenade launcher leaving the sixth chamber empty.
He slung the weapon back at his hip, positioning the empty bandolier over his right shoulder. He grimaced, rubbing his big fingers through the short growth of red beard covering his chin. He lifted his hands, pulling the hood of his combat vest over the rough mess of his flaming red hair. The toxic vapors from the leaking fuel cells were steadily rising. They were only a dozen feet from the top of the tower and rising at two feet per minute. In another six minutes they would seep over the landing and begin spilling across the floor. The cockpit was the highest structure above the floor but retreating to it would buy less than an extra five minutes.
Chiara looked at him. “You’re the technical genius - how the hell do we get out of this one?”
Peter frowned, wracking his brain. They needed a way to stop the vapors from rising. If they could bleed them off it would buy time. If they could get rid of them entirely, they could escape the tower through the base. Many of the fuel cells were still intact and working, while the rail gun phalanx was destroyed, the tower was still mostly operational.
“I might just have a way.” He leaped to the cockpit and activated the controls. The battlespace display lit up above his head. He set all the hammerhead missiles to pre-launch mode. Over eighty panels pushed back and slid aside. Metallic frames pushed out on all sides of the tower, blue vapors spilling from most of them.
Chiara reported from the stairwell landing. “The vapors are falling. It’s working.”
“That’s great -”
A shudder rolled through the tower. The structure wobbling for what seemed like forever. In a true anal-puckering moment, Peter envisioned the tower falling to the ground, a stray spark igniting the fuel cell vapors. Well, at least it would all be over in a moment…
“- what the hell!” he finished.
Peter looked to the north. The Kraken-2 power station was returning back to Earth in fragments of blackened concrete and darkened steel. Its previous foundation of solid rock replaced by fountaining plumes of super-heated steam laced with molten ribbons of fiery rock.
The battlespace display overwrote the falling debris of Kraken-2 with red squares marked with the words, ‘SYSTEM FAILURE.’
Chiara whispered in awe, “Look to the south.”
Peter twisted around in the cockpit chair. The southern power station was sliding into the Earth, pools of bubbling rock oozing up around it. The process suddenly accelerated as jets of super-heated steam cut through the roof of the power station like it was made of tissue paper rather than yard thick layers of steel-reinforced concrete.
They were out of time. He leaped down to the floor and strode to the stairwell landing, stowing his Order nightglasses in a protected inside pocket of his battle vest. He hefted his MGL with his left hand, and declared with absolute conviction, “If we don’t get out of this tower we’re going to die.
Chiara nodded in grim agreement. “Do what you have to do.”
Peter looked down into the stairwell. They had to get rid of the toxic vapor. The quickest way was to burn it off. However - would enough of the explosive force get directed out through the missile launch cells to avoid killing them? Would the eighty plus hypersonic missiles hold together or would they catastrophically cook off, adding rocket fuel and thousands and thousands of pounds of very-high-tech explosives to the mix? Would the W80 nuclear warheads on twenty of the hammerheads survive without detonating?
There were so many ways this could all go wrong - but doing nothing was to accept certain death. Peter was not one to go quietly into the night. The W80s were not armed and should be safe enough. The hypersonic missiles were tough beasts, built to withstand massive heat and pressure. Perhaps there was a slim margin where life could be snatched from the jaws of death.
Peter’s lips pursed together, his will to act locked in a rare moment of hesitation. It was like playing Russian roulette with a revolver with only one empty chamber, but the alternative was a quick and certain death.
He glanced at Chiara. “Best get back to the opposite side of the chamber.”
“What about you?”
Peter grinned momentarily, then sucked
air through his teeth.
Shit! I’m honestly lost for words. He finally said, “Just get back, this is gonna suck.”
He took a step onto the landing above the stairwell.
“Yep,” he whispered to himself, a shiver crawling up his spine, “this is gonna suck big time.”
* * *
Jay and Francis blurred across the scorched tarmac of the VTOL landing field on the south side of the fortress opposite the administration building.
To their right, the wrecks of two nightfalcons burned amidst bubbling pools of bitumen. Heat shimmered through the air, and thunder cracked and reverberated across a cloudless sky.
Jay and Francis rushed into the canted structure of an above ground hanger on their left. Working together, they heaved aside fallen debris, uncovering a stairwell leading down. The fortress was falling apart. They had witnessed the destruction of the specter towers by Peter and Chiara as they’d run south from Kraken-2. The day guard squads had used MRAPs to drive back from Kraken-2 to the fortress, beating them here by a small margin.
The three MRAPs were abandoned on the other side of the landing field next to another entrance within a second half-destroyed hanger. The southern wall of the building was alight, a growing plume of black smoke gouting from a wide tear in the roof. They’d thought better of simply chasing the guards down through the same entry site. That could be a quick and easy way to get a bullet in the face. It was better to infiltrate the underground hanger from another direction.
To the north and south of the fortress, plumes of steam and thick black smoke were erupting from the power station sites. Jay felt small and insignificant before the powers being unleashed around him. Whatever the mission had started off being, it was now a matter of simple survival. But survival was not so simple - he wasn’t going to leave anyone behind - not on his watch. They had to capture a nightfalcon and get everyone out. And if possible, more than one chopper; after all, not everyone was a vampire.
The Crane War Page 22
