by Cam Daly
#
The roof of the Transit Center was an elevated urban park stretching five blocks from end to end. A serpentine path looped around the perimeter of the park, edged on the outer side with bushes and trees which partially blocked the view into the closest nearby buildings. The area encompassed by the path contained a handful of kiosks and skylights to the lower levels, with elevators and a single glass gondola promising access back to the ground.
The stairs had delivered him to a covered awning near one end of the park. There were a number of gleaming skyscrapers connected directly to the park by walkways, and he ran past the closest towards the elevators. It must have only been recently completed, as Connor could see entire floors empty of carpet or furnishings while others had stacks of shrink-wrapped chairs and tables.
His heart pounded from the unexpected exertion. As he closed on the elevators one of them opened, revealing two men with hard hats and heavy tool boxes. Construction workers? He ran towards them. They were only 20 meters away.
“Connor James?”
He skidded to a stop, arms windmilling. The worker who had spoken was wearing the same camera headset as Briggs.
“Leave me alone!”
He turned and sprinted for the walkway to the recently completed skyscraper. The two workers lumbered after him, still carrying their tool boxes. The two ersatz police were a few seconds farther behind.
The all-glass doors to the skyscraper were locked. There was a NO ENTRY sign on a metal stand which he grabbed and smashed it into one of the doors. The glass transformed instantly to a spiderweb of cracks but didn’t shatter as he expected it to.
“Mr. James!” Briggs slowed to a walk at the end of the bridge, ten meters away. “The more you run, the easier it is for us. We will wait for you downstairs.”
Connor barely heard as he smashed the door a second time. A small section caved in. A third desperate swing made a hole large enough to reach through and open the door’s handle. He darted inside.
The four men paused just outside the doors and watched him.
Just past an unmanned desk were the elevators. If they wanted him downstairs, he would head the other direction. As soon as he had a moment to catch his breath he would call the police, but he just needed a minute to figure out how to describe what was happening without sounding crazy.
At his first press an empty elevator car opened and he dashed inside, stabbing a button for one of the top floors. The doors closed and still there was no sign of his pursuers. He sagged momentarily as the car accelerated upward then regained his balance. He pressed another half dozen floor buttons near the top then the emergency call button.
“Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?” The building would be full of locked offices and he might have a hard time breaking into one. Maybe the roof?
A voice rumbled from the control panel speaker. “Mister James? Please don’t do anything stupid and get yourself killed. We want you alive. Why don’t you just stay in the elevator?”
The elevator jerked to a stop. All the lit floor buttons went out. He yanked the emergency stop button then staggered backwards, gasping for breath and staring at the control panel as if it was the thing that had betrayed him. He had only made it to the 30th floor.
Surprisingly the ‘door open’ button still worked and he stepped halfway out, blocking the doors from closing. The light spilling from the elevator revealed a marbled lobby. There were elevators beside his on either side, more across the way, an illuminated fire escape door sign and a set of large glass doors to an unoccupied office area. Nothing useful for him.
Enough running around - time to call in the cavalry and figure out an explanation later. He half expected his phone to be broken or blocked somehow but when he fumbled it from his jacket pocket it sprang to life as usual. His favorite photo of the Golden Gate Bridge was on the lock screen, but he had to squint now to make out the blurry image.
His fingers clenched then spasmed open. The phone slipped free and fell to the lobby floor, clattering loudly. He looked stupidly at it for a moment then pain wracked his entire body. He dropped to his hands and knees as his muscles convulsed.
The wave of agony passed after a few seconds. He tried to get back to his feet but instead lurched forward and fell, now trembling uncontrollably. His legs didn’t seem to work at all, and when the closing elevator doors rebounded off them he didn’t feel a thing.
He realized with horror that the pain was being replaced by a growing numbness. His heart was pounding and he could hear his own gasps for breath but no muscle would obey him properly. Within a few more seconds he wasn’t even able to flop around. He was paralyzed.
From where he lay, he could see his phone, two other sets of elevator doors, a pair of padded chairs and a potted plant. A flickering display above the closest elevator was just visible out of the corner of his eye. It was changing but he couldn’t focus well enough to read the numbers. He could tell when the blur changed from one digit to two but it didn’t seem that important.
His elevator tried to close on his legs again with a pleasant ding.
His phone vibrated against the floor, moving a short distance but unable to get anywhere. Just like him.
He thought the phone’s movement was funny in a pathetic way, but didn’t have the energy or ability to laugh. It was too much work. He closed his eyes.
#
A heavy thud awoke him. It was painfully bright - someone had turned on all the lights. It took a few seconds to be able to focus
There were now at least two or three of the same four men from downstairs in the lobby with him. Briggs, the taller officer with the head mounted camera, was crouched down and peering at him. Behind him the construction worker who also had a camera was removing equipment from his tool box.
The first thing was a thick black metallic rod of some sort with a handle at one end. The other end of the rod almost looked like the head of a catfish - a curved upper section with whiskers or antennae sticking out below a wide slit. He handed it to another man who stepped into sight. Davies. “Plasma arc cannon for you, raw meat. If you set it for mosho, remember to keep it aimed away from us.”
“Mosho?” Davies didn’t seem to understand. “We are eternal!”
The construction worker gave a resigned reply as if he had said this already. “Motion shooter. If you hold the second trigger down, the arc will align and fire automatically at anything that moves.”
Briggs kept his focus on Connor. “I don’t think Davies is a good fit for us. Let’s recycle him for Mr. James here to speed things up. Saw, Thompson?”
Briggs rose and faced the others. The construction worker, Thompson, pulled the plasma weapon from Davies and placed it on the ground. He began rummaging through his toolbox again.
Davies turned to face the far wall and pulled off his regulation police hat. His expression never changed. Briggs reached up to tug on a lock of hair near the top of Davies’ skull and an entire section came off with a wet pop.
Connor watched in horrid fascination as the taller man dropped the rectangle of skull and hair to the ground. He slowly and deliberately reached into the top of Davies’ skull but then Thompson knelt next to Connor and mercifully blocked the view.
Thompson held up a portable pipe saw, met Connor’s gaze then pressed the power switch a few times. The small circular blade screeched to life and Thompson laughed. “You will be a messy one, Mister James.” He stepped over the paralyzed photographer and out of his field of view. “This won’t even hurt that much. Davies there, we had to hold him down for the saw.”
Connor looked up again at Davies. He stood there facing the far wall, a fine line of drool just visible at the corner of his mouth. Briggs crouched down next to Connor and showed him a finger covered with some sort of yellow goo. He smiled at it, then at Connor. “Welcome to the team.”
He stood again and moved around behind Connor. “What do you think - a little smaller and farther back than Davies?” Apparently he was talking t
o Thompson.
“Yes, in case they need him for something. You never…shit.” Some heavy metal implement - the saw? - crashed to the marble floor right behind Connor’s head. He would have jumped if he could move.
A moment of quiet. Were they listening to something?
“You take the arc.” Briggs’ voice had taken on a much less casual tone.
Thompson moved quickly to pick up the rod-like weapon. Briggs stepped over Connor then grabbed his ankles. “I’ll get him in, then you take him downstairs. I’ll deal with Davies.”
Briggs dragged Connor in a quarter circle to line him up with the elevator door, then started to pull him in.
Connor’s head lolled sideways, giving him a view in the other direction. The second construction worker from downstairs was there as well, carrying the same type of black weapon-rod as Thompson. Behind him there was a large glass-walled conference room of some sort with a view of the nearby skyscrapers. There was a pigeon perched on a railing just outside the window. Connor was sure that it was looking straight at him.
Briggs dropped Connor’s legs with him halfway inside the elevator. “Control room isn’t responding.” There was no fear in his voice, only urgency. “Cover the emergency stairs.”
The second construction worker brought the black rod up to waist level and pointed it that direction. The mouth-like section glowed orange as he clenched the handle.
Briggs continued. “It will be simpler if the enemy comes to us. We are eternal.”
“We are eternal.” The response from Thompson and the armed worker was a perfect echo, but all Davies could manage was a long moan.
#
Keryapt clung with both feet and one hand on the elevator cables, studying the ghostly images visible to her through the wall. The Dove remote on the ledge outside was providing the data on her enemies, and her combat control system offered up details on their weapons and orientation. Her right Gunsleeve was trained on the Tumorish just on the other side of the elevator shaft door, tracking him precisely as he shifted to face the emergency stairs.
“Keryapt, assume the plasma cannons are on automatic…”
Their high energy plasma was a considerable threat to her but would be instantly lethal to Connor. A flattened magenta cone was visible in front of each arc weapon to indicate where it could hit when discharged. The green ghost of his position was on the ground, halfway inside the elevator car next to her. She couldn’t let them aim low.
“Yes.” She straddled across the gap between cables and the lobby edge of the shaft, then pulled herself up against the metal door. She was less than a meter away from the closest enemy. “Breaching.”
She fired an incandescent round through the elevator shaft door. The head of the nameless construction worker exploded in a fiery cloud.
The other weapon-bearer reflexively turned towards the sudden motion and his plasma arc discharged with a shrieking bang. The orange-yellow wave of energy crossed the room at waist level in an instant, incinerating the midsections of the hapless Davies and the burning figure she had just shot. The glass office doors behind them shattered and a scorched line was cut deep into the walls.
As her first target crumpled, Keryapt yanked the elevator doors aside and threw herself into the room. The bisected and burning man who had been facing the wall - Davies - would be dead if he were still human. She brought her left arm around and fired a burst at his head.
The remaining armed enemy still had his arc aimed her direction. Briggs, in the elevator car, was only starting to react to her attack.
She leapt forward and over the magenta cone shown by her combat system, leading with her right arm. The alien weapon discharged with another shriek and the horizontal plasma wave passed between her and where Connor lay on the floor.
She fired another incandescent round in mid-air. Thompson’s head was reduced to a splatter of burning gore on the far wall.
Briggs was just standing up inside the elevator, reaching inside his jacket.
Kery rebounded off the ceiling and landed next to Thompson’s body as it fell backwards. She turned to the open elevator.
Briggs held an oblong greenish object in one hand. His other was inches away, the safety pin of the object still attached to his finger. It was a grenade.
She dashed forward but wasn’t quite quick enough. He managed to release his grip and the spring-loaded safety lever began a slow spiral off towards the corner of the elevator. He started speaking at the same time.
She caught the live grenade as it started to fall, slamming into Briggs and pinning him against the wall with one hand.
She held the grenade up in her other hand, studying it closely. Her combat system recognized symbols on it but Shadow answered her unspoken request before she could pull the data herself.
“Thermobaric. Four second fuse.”
Plenty of time. Keryapt let go of the grenade, punched through the plastic and metal wall of the elevator, caught it again. She shoved it through the hole she had just made and flicked it downward. For good measure, she slid Briggs over to cover the hole.
The camera array on the side of his head caught her attention next. He had gotten as far as “We” but she had no desire to hear the rest of his generic defiant exclamation. The Tumorish were not creative thinkers.
She pushed hard enough to break a few ribs and took the camera in her hand. He thrashed against her, using every ounce of strength with no regard for the further injury he might inflict on himself.
Her rigid combat mask was in place, its gray and black whorls hiding any expression she might make. But she hoped the alien on the other side of the camera had sufficiently advanced technology to understand the tone of anticipation in her voice. “I know who you are, Craven.”
A muted whump told her the grenade had detonated somewhere below. If Briggs felt any pain from his scorched back, he didn’t show it.
“And I know your kind. My name is Keryapt Zess and I have hunted you before. Not just your Tumorish slaves, but you. I enjoyed it. And I am going to enjoy doing it again here on Earth. There is no hole deep enough to keep you safe. Soon I will be right there in the same room as you. And you can imagine what will happen then.” As if in response, the camera ignited in her hand.
“Ow! That hurt.” Kery shook her hand against the stinging pain.
Shadow was quick with her analysis. “No real damage. I was going to warn you about that possibility, but I figured you would remember the last time you assumed an enemy was helpless. You do remember this morning, right?”
Kery hadn’t really thought about it. “Of course I did. But I thought it was worth it, to deliver a message. Looks like it killed Briggs though.” She prodded his motionless body with a foot.
Shadow seemed unimpressed. “Is that speech from one of your videos? Wouldn’t it be more believable if you did actually know who was watching?”
“The Craven got their name for a reason. It there's any chance that I can scare them away from here then it's worth a try.”
“If you say so. Enough about that - check on Connor.”
Keryapt forced herself to stop trying to remember if she had ever given that speech in real life, or if it was just from an episode she had recently rewatched. “Right.”
She knelt next to Connor’s head and removed the injection syringe from its storage compartment in the small of her back. She contemplated its contents briefly then squirted them out on the floor. “I could dose him to wipe his memory, but I’m not sure what the drugs would do to him in this state. He’s going to remember all of this.”
“Not an ideal choice, but I have to agree. Give us a blood sample.”
Keryapt withdrew the needle dart from Connor’s shoulder and carefully placed it in a small sealed vial from her storage. She used the empty injector to extract a blood sample from his neck and then returned it to her storage as well. Her biolab there began to break it down for immediate analysis.
She removed the combat mask, leaned in close and
spoke aloud to the human in what she hoped was a soothing voice. “Connor. Stay with me. You’ve been injected with a small amount of an alien parasite called the Tumorish. It’s trying to replicate inside your body and find its way into your brain. You need to remain calm while we figure out a counteragent. If you understand, blink once for ‘yes’.” He blinked frantically. “Panicking won’t help.”
She sent Dove flying down to the lower levels of the building and ordered Hawk to come to her level. “Shadow, we need to get him out of here. There are more coming. I can’t fight and carry him at the same time. Any ideas?”
“No sign of Craven air support but it has to be heading for you. Human fire protocol in a building like this will be for all the elevators to go to the ground floor and open there. They will be waiting for you at that level. Can you climb back down the elevator shaft with him?”
“We would be too vulnerable in there. And I don’t have anything that would make a safe harness if I needed to move quickly.”
She donned her mask again, then clambered through the access hatch to the roof of the elevator car.
“Although…if it isn’t him, then it doesn’t need to be…”
She dropped back into the car, dragged Briggs out and removed two more grenades from his body.
“If what isn’t who? Huh?”
“I’ve got an idea.”
She switched to the Planning Stage to assess the situation. The main map table showed where she was on the 30th floor of the sixty story skyscraper. The building was bordered by streets on two sides, with the urban park and Transit Center on another. The final side was a pedestrian plaza mostly covered by a thick canopy of structural glass and steel.
Images from Dove revealed that there were a dozen humans gathering inside the lowest ground level of the building, near the elevators and emergency staircases. They were a motley collection of police, construction workers and EMTs. Almost all were wearing helmets or hats of some sort and all had weapons that could do real harm to Kery’s Interloper body. Clearly all were Tumorish.
