Rampant Destruction (CERBERUS Book 10)

by Andy Peloquin

  “And the neck?” Nolan had noted the new scar, courtesy of Gemina Black’s bullet. The wound had come dangerously close to putting the master sergeant down for good.

  “Pah!” Master Sergeant Kane gave a dismissive wave. “Just a scratch. I’ve cut myself worse shaving with railguns and laser scalpels.”

  Nolan smiled inwardly. That was the Wyvern he knew.

  With that, they lapsed into silence once more. It wasn’t the Silverguard way to bemoan the fate awaiting them. They’d fight it tooth and nail, keep struggling until their last breath, but never complain. When death inevitably came for them—on the battlefield or off—they’d face it head-on.

  Still, Nolan hadn’t given up trying to stave off his own untimely demise. Not only at the hands of the Protection Bureau, but the result of the tungstenite poisoning his body.

  “Any word from Doctor Sladek?” he asked Taia mentally.

  “Nothing yet,” she replied. “I’ve been periodically monitoring the comm channel you gave him, but he hasn’t reached out.”

  Nolan frowned. It had been nearly a week now since handing off the doctor and his daughter to Oversight. If Sladek was going to find his old buddy Hemiphore Archer, the man who’d constructed the nano-scrubbers in the doctor’s bloodstream, he’d have done so by now.

  But Nolan refused to give up hope. “How go your efforts to reverse-engineer those nano-scrubbers?” Taia been working on it since first discovering their presence in the aftermath of rescuing the doctor from Shadowspear. The last time he’d asked about it, she’d actually used the words “cautiously optimistic.” “Cracked it yet?”

  “Not yet,” Taia replied. “As much as I’d like to tell you that I’m close, the intricacies of such nanotechnology make it incredibly difficult to even identify the individual components, much less recreate them.”

  Nolan’s heart sank. That wasn’t the good news he’d been hoping for.

  “However,” Taia continued, “I am dedicating additional computing power to analyzing and replicating the nano-scrubbers. Unfortunately, it will divert some of my resources away from the construction of my corporeal form. I estimate it will be eleven days, six hours, and twelve minutes before the body is ready to activate.”

  “I know how much a physical body means to you,” Nolan said. “I wouldn’t ask you to delay its construction—“

  “You didn’t ask,” Taia said. “Keeping you alive is more important to me.”

  Gratitude swelled within Nolan, suffusing his body with glowing warmth. No matter how much he doubted the veracity of her intel or whether or not she’d actually severed her link to the Protection Bureau, he couldn’t question just how much she cared about him. He had more than enough proof of what she’d done—and, on Corrigan, what she’d sacrificed—for his wellbeing.

  The rest of the trip to New Avalon passed in silence. The Phantasm approached the city from the west, using the thick haze filling Foundry District and the ship’s built-in stealth cloaking to mask their flight path from eyeballs on the ground and New Avalon Ground Control. Circling around to the north, they reached the Sentry Division building in the Iceglades a full ten minutes ahead of Taia’s ETA.

  Just in time, too. Even from the ground, Nolan could see the fury of the ice storm brewing out in the Frostbarren. Though it lacked the sheer size of the storm they’d weathered on Diomedra, this whirlwind spun shards of rock-hard ice at hundreds of kilometers per hour. Even an IAF Leviathan with full battle armor would think twice about flying through a tempest that furious.

  By the time the Scimitar arrived forty minutes later, Master Sergeant Kane had unloaded their cargo—Nolan’s guns and the two crates of weaponry the master sergeant had brought—and Nolan had exchanged his combat suit for civilian clothing and the Reinforcement Protocol wheelchair.

  Bex, Darren, and Zahra hauled their thermoplastic crates of gear out of the starspeeder and loaded them straight into a pair of unregistered skimmer-craft Taia had parked and ready for them.

  Then came the inevitable waiting half of the “hurry up and wait” that was so common in the military. They couldn’t mobilize until sunset, when the cloak of darkness would allow them to move into their observation post. The less attention they drew from their target, the better.

  Nolan spent the three hours going over his gear. His combat suit had emerged relatively unscathed from his mission to Corrigan, but he gave it a thorough examination just to make certain. He disassembled and painstakingly cleaned each component of the Balefire Mark 2.1. After reassembling the rifle, he checked each energy clip to ensure they were fully charged and free of any damage. His Echoblade never needed sharpening, but he applied a fresh coat of mineral oil to protect the Echosteel.

  The rest of Warbeast Team went through similar preparations in silence. None of them seemed particularly chatty—no surprise, given the high stakes of their mission.

  At one point, Darren switched on a portable sound system Zahra had packed and scanned the local channels. Nolan grimaced as a familiar, strident voice echoed through the conference room-turned-war room.

  “—Sick Simpering Tyrannidiots might be gone, loyal listener, but we must be watchful, and we must be ready,” proclaimed Jonas Alex in his typical blowhard form. “That’s why I’m bringing back the special on certified Jonas Alex assault rifles, the best value for—“

  “Shit!” Darren rumbled, quickly changing the station. “Can’t stand that windbag asshat.”

  Grunts of agreement echoed around the table.

  A new voice echoed from the speakers, the stentorian tone of a female news anchor. “Crowds have already begun gathering on Genesis for the upcoming Unification Day celebrations, which will culminate in the Emperor’s annual Imperial Proclamation Day address at Foundation Plaza. Sources close to the Emperor say his speech will encourage peace and harmony throughout the Empire, a message considered timely given the recent spate of attacks by Terran League terrorists and the so-called ‘Redeemer.’ However, members of the Emperor’s cabinet—“

  Darren changed the station again, this time settling on something with quiet instrumental music. However, the gentle melodies seemed to only add to the tension of anticipation filling the room, so Darren switched it off a few minutes later.

  No sooner had silence resumed than Taia’s voice echoed in Nolan’s earpiece. “Nolan, I’ve got an incoming call from Detective Locke.”

  Nolan’s eyebrows shot up. “Detective Locke? Now’s not a great time. I can call him back after this is done.”

  “That’s what I thought you’d say,” Taia replied. “Which is why I didn’t put him through the first two times he called, all within the last six minutes. But after this third attempt, I believe it is important enough—to him, at least—to persist.”

  Nolan frowned. He’d left this comms channel active to give Detective Locke a way to contact him. It had been weeks since his conversation with the detective, but the man hadn’t reached out in all that time. Now it was three attempts in less than ten minutes. That certainly felt important.

  He contemplated a moment. He wasn’t exactly in a hurry—he could spare a few minutes to find out what the detective wanted.

  Turning to Bex, he tapped his ear and mouthed, “Detective Locke.”

  She raised an eyebrow questioningly. Nolan could only answer with a shrug before he said aloud, “Put the call with Detective Locke through.” Bex already knew about his arrangement—she’d played the part of “Mister Tinman” to gather intel on Shadowspear—and Warbeast Team was smart enough to figure out what was happening on the fly.

  A little click in Nolan’s earpiece told him the comms channel was live. “Detective,” he said, trusting Taia would use her digital modulator to distort his voice, “this had better be important.”

  “You think I’d be calling you if it wasn’t, Hellhound?” Detective Locke’s voice had a hard edge to it. “You certainly don’t make it easy to reach you. I’d have just as much luck shining a huge spotlight into the ni
ght’s sky as—“

  “You didn’t call me to bitch and moan,” Nolan said, matching the detective’s tone. “You’ve got my attention. What do you want?”

  “I want someone taken care of.”

  The man’s answer surprised Nolan almost as much as his matter-of-fact tone.

  “Taken care of?” he asked.

  “Don’t make me spell it out, Hellhound!” There was an audible strain in Detective Locke’s voice. “New Avalon’s got a problem that can’t be taken care of any other way. I need you to deal with it—your way.”

  Chapter Eight

  Nolan raised an eyebrow. A hint of a smile played on Bex’s lips, Zahra shot Darren a curious look, and even Master Sergeant Kane appeared intrigued by this turn of events.

  “Detective Locke,” Nolan said in a tone of mock surprise, “are you asking me—“

  The detective was clearly in no mood for Nolan’s sarcasm. “Just listen, Hellhound. We’ve been going after one Fineas Derring, a prize lowlife scumbag, for the better part of fifteen years, and we’ve come up empty every time. He’s got an army of lawyers that help him wriggle off the hook, and his friends in high places keep covering up for him. This latest development’s just made it clear to me that he’s never going to get what he deserves, not going the legal route, at least. Your way’s the only way it’s getting done. The only way he can’t hurt anyone else.” He drew in a long breath. “So I’ve come to you, Hellhound. I need your help to put an end to the perverted filth.”

  Nolan opened his mouth to say “no”—he had bigger problems to deal with than some uppity billionaire the Doofs couldn’t handle—but Detective Locke bulled on. “Before you say no, listen to what this fucker’s been up to. He’s blackmailed and bribed his way into a position of power, then used his influence and fortune to create a network of underage prostitutes available only to the wealthiest on New Avalon. For fifteen years, we’ve known he’s been running this ring, but we’ve had no concrete evidence to convict him. Every witness either vanishes, turns up dead, or backs out before testifying. His legal team has found a way to overturn or repel everything we’ve thrown at him.”

  The existence of such men sickened Nolan. It was ever the way of the elite, hiding behind their status and privilege. He’d never hesitated to accept contracts to target them—it was rare to find someone in power that didn’t have some dirty, dark secret. Fineas Derring’s secrets were simply dirtier and darker than most.

  “Shall I go on?” Detective Locke continued, his voice burning with righteous fury. “Oh yes, the piece of shit somehow ended up in charge of the Imperial Care and Fostering System on New Avalon, a position we suspect he’s used more than once to ‘recruit’ children for his little ring.” Disgust and venom dripped from the man’s words. “Any who refuse his advances simply vanish. Until now.”

  Nolan raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a witness?”

  “No, a body. A twelve-year-old boy. Derek Harper. Transferred from his last foster home two months ago, but the ICFS claims he got lost in the shuffle. His body turned up three hours ago in Foundry District. I don’t need to tell you what was done to him, but it’s bad, Hellhound. There’s not enough evidence to tie it to him, but I know without a shred of doubt that it was Derring.”

  Nolan let the silence stretch on as he pondered the detective’s words. He had no problem putting his skills to work scrubbing men like Derring from existence. And after all the intel Detective Locke had given him in the past—including what he’d passed to Bex during the Shadowspear mess and what he’d unknowingly been relieved of when Nolan hacked his personal tablet—it could be said that Nolan owed the man a good turn. He’d known it might come to this when he left the comms channel open for Detective Locke.

  If only it hadn’t occurred at the worst possible time. Getting involved now would divert his attention from the Protection Bureau job. Going up against what was conceivably the most powerful clandestine organization in the Nyzarian Empire demanded all his focus.

  “Sorry,” he said, “but I’ve got bigger problems at the moment.”

  “Don’t bullshit me!” Detective Locke snapped. “You not wanting to take this gig is one thing—though I’d remind you that you owe me one—but don’t hide behind the ‘I’m busy’ excuse.”

  Nolan understood the man’s anger; the Doofs’ hands were tied by legalities and red tape that Nolan’s status as Cerberus enabled him to circumvent or simply slice through altogether. However, at the moment, the threat against Nolan, Jared, and everyone else in his immediate circle had to take priority.

  “Detective Locke,” Nolan said, “under typical circumstances, I’d have no problem putting a bullet into this particular prick-hole’s head. But now’s not a good time. You want me to do this for you, then you need to understand that. I can’t just drop everything and jump because you snap your fingers. You want Derring dealt with, I’ve got to do it on my terms, my time. Got it?”

  A loud “Hmph!” was all the answer he got.

  Nolan stifled a sigh. He had no desire to alienate Detective Locke—he was fairly certain the man had pierced his Hellhound façade and harbored, at the very least, a strong suspicion of who was beneath the armor. The man was in a position to make the life of one Nolan Garrett a living misery.

  However, this couldn’t have come at a worse time. Detective Locke would just have to—

  Hang up on him, it appeared, as the comms line clicked and went dead.

  Nolan grimaced. “Well, that can’t possibly come back to bite me in the ass.”

  “Mmmm,” Bex mused noncommittally.

  “You gonna explain all that to us?” Darren asked.

  “Hellhound,” Zahra added, a teasing tone to her voice.

  Nolan relayed his history with the detective in broad strokes—including the first meeting at the Spacer’s Paradise, dealing with Sergeant Glauser’s connection to the Shramirovannyy, and receiving the intel for their Shadowspear op. The team listened in silence, though with plenty of shared glances passing between Zahra and Darren.

  When it was done, no one seemed interested in commenting on the odd relationship between Nolan—an assassin for a clandestine organization—and a Doof detective. His teammates simply let the matter slide and returned to their tasks of preparing to move out.

  Finally, the time came when Master Sergeant Kane stood and nodded to them. “We move out,” he said.

  Within three minutes, all five of them were racing through the Iceglades on two different paths to the Cyberwarrens safe house.

  Nolan sat in the back seat, letting Zahra drive while Darren rode shotgun. None of them carried visible weapons, but Nolan saw the outline of Darren’s pistol in the underarm holster beneath his jacket. Zahra preferred a boot holster, and Nolan wore a coat to conceal the NC7 strapped to his belt.

  Not that he was worried…too much. Taia had control of New Avalon’s CCTV system and was digitally altering the footage just enough that they wouldn’t show up on any facial recognition searches. On the off chance the Protection Bureau had learned of his escape from the Vault and was looking for him, they’d have a damned hard time finding him. Or so Taia said, and he wanted to take her word for it. They’d know soon enough, though. If she was still under the Protection Bureau’s thumb, they could expect a visit to their new safe house within hours of their arrival.

  Nolan wasn’t fond of keeping secrets from his team—especially not something this potentially catastrophic—but he’d decided to keep this to himself for the time being. Master Sergeant Kane had already made it clear that he, at least, wasn’t certain about Taia’s loyalty. Nolan wouldn’t risk shattering their fragile trust in his AI until he knew for sure.

  Half an hour later, after Solaria had fully set behind the western horizon, the two vehicles converged on the fifteen-story tenement building in the Cyberwarrens that Taia had chosen as their safe house. The underground parking structure offered them convenient access to both a service elevator and the building’s we
stern staircase. The five of them and their crates of equipment rode the elevator to the third floor, where a plainly decorated hallway led them to the apartment that would serve as their observation post.

  The apartment was nearly empty, save for a sagging couch, a rickety wooden table with only two chairs, and a kitchen with a shattered stove and no fridge. No beds in the single bedroom, either, and the closet doors were either missing or barely hanging on by a hinge. Judging by peeling wallpaper, the black stains dotting the faded carpet, and the thick stink of mold and dirt that hung over everything, the apartment’s last occupant hadn’t been too keen on cleanliness or maintenance.

  But that didn’t matter to Warbeast Team. They’d spent far more time in far worse places—jungles, swamps, deserts, harsh mountain ridges, the deep caverns of Proxima Centauri C… Hell, once they’d hunkered down on an asteroid for a full forty-eight waiting for an enemy ship to pass. Anything with four walls and a roof was a step up from the majority of their previous ops.

  The five of them set to work setting up the safe house. Master Sergeant Kane and Nolan worked on the weaponry, emptying the crates and arranging each team member’s chosen loadout within easy reach. Darren and Zahra deployed the equipment they’d tested back at the cabin, while Bex unpacked the full suite of surveillance gear they’d picked up from the Sentry Division building.

  It took them just half an hour to set everything up. They moved in silence, flowing around each other in a routine that felt so familiar to Nolan, even after all this time. There was a strange sense of comfort in the activity, the simple act of doing that settled his nerves and calmed his mind. Doubly so when he knew the people around him were elite operators that would have his back, that he could trust with his life. After everything he’d learned about Taia and the Protection Bureau, he needed the reassurance that no matter what happened, Warbeast Team—and their newest member, Bex—would have his back.