Dean’s team moved out first, untangling to the left flank of a squad moving fast to the control room stairs, along with two of the mechanical beasts Abramov named lavashells, one to the front, the other to the rear. Those were going to be a problem. Shades carbines opened up in three-round bursts, dropping six Primers before the team ported back to relative safety.
Bodey and Codey, with their teams, were moving against the enemy in a similar fashion.
Dean, Roddy, and Enroth moved in to finish the remaining four troops in the Primer squad, but untangled in a heap 50 feet away, behind some equipment. Enroth gave Dean a shake, hearing the heavy clanking sound of the monsters hurrying to their position. They ported back to the stairwell.
Enroth was concerned. “What was that all about?”
Dean shook his head to clear the cobwebs. “I don’t know. It was like a quantum glimpse while we were teleporting. An aborted port should have left us where we were. I really don’t know what happened. I do know those lavashells are wicked-fast. Thanks for giving me a good shake. Those things are... trouble.”
Double trouble. “Tactical lavashell teleportation options?”
Dean is resourceful. “We can’t handle two of them. One at a time. Maybe. I have an idea, if you two can occupy one of them. Very carefully. Just a sec.”
A flash-port recon run almost got Dean killed, evidenced by the smoking, melting side of his left boot. He kicked off his boots, the left continuing to melt in a heap, then he peeled his sock for good measure.
Sneakers from his pack would have to do as he ported his team behind some equipment near one of the beasts, which immediately turned in pursuit, only to meet several roving claymores. The nearest RC exploded on impact but caused no damage, as the machine rained fire and brimstone on Enroth and Roddy. The massive lavashell must have grossed in the tons, at least 20,000 kilograms, not shifted at all by the concussive blasts.
Roddy dropped to his belly and stuck a plasma tube around a corner in a hit and run. The shot was true, directly hitting the beast, which returned fire immediately, melting the tube to slag. That got Roddy, and Enroth, up on their feet with the lavashell closing in fast as they dodged around equipment running for their lives.
Dean untangled a foot above the other lavashell and dropped to the top of its casing. With nothing to hold to, when it bucked, he was forced to port or be thrown off to meet a blast of fiery death. The thing did resemble a shell, roughly 2 meters in diameter, with four equidistant raised crests housing the weapon systems. It had eight sturdy jointed legs with a telescoping effect offering excellent vertical and lateral movement, and a quick 360-degree firing angle.
Dean had spotted the team as fuzzy blips on his Ivees, and used his port to drop in and bring them to safety.
As his team watched nervously for signs of an approaching lavashell, Dean rummaged for something he could use as a handhold. The shell was too rough for anything like a suction cup, which he had on hand. Glue on a suction cup, maybe? That could work. He thought back to the time he rode a mechanical bronc, old Widow Maker, on a dare from Codey. But how to get to the soft innards and destroy the monster? It seemed hermetically sealed. And nothing they had would punch through the shell. He synched pid to Ivees and asked for any imaging that showed potential access points.
The eye stalks! The fearsome machine had tentacle extensions as thick as his arm that protruded on occasion, the ends unfolding like petals on a flower, into... a sensor array. This was more of a Codey mission. But he decided to give it a try himself, first. He scribed a crude drawing of his plan and sent it to Enroth. A confused look turned to understanding as he saw the suction cup in Dean’s hand. Then his nod sent Dean on his way.
I took two flash-ports to locate his nemesis. On the first flash, he made the trip so fast his mind didn’t have time to comprehend what he had seen. Was the feeling of heat the second time only his imagination? Probably not, since he had to fight through another quantum glimpse, that almost caused him to untangle again mid-port. He dropped again on top of the lavashell with his sticky cup, holding on for dear life, hoping the thing would decide to risk a sensor peak.
As he was being pummeled by the ride, a thought reached out to him. Wouldn’t it make sense to set a weapon in the midst of the sensor display attached to those agile tentacles? Oh, like the tentacle pod opening up right in front of his face? He almost ported out, but steadied himself instead, and slammed the thing as hard as he could, dead center. The arrangement closed hard, almost taking his hand, and retracted.
Dean felt the detonation of the hand grenade through the shell, and ported to safety, just as a much larger explosion came from the bowels of the beast. Its shell cracked wide open, releasing a noxious plume of acid rain.
He jumped on comms to the other teams to provide his lavashell solution, receiving a hearty yeehaw from Codey who immediately went looking for a suction cup and glue. But after trying the tactic on two monsters, he gave up, exhausted. They weren’t cooperating. Most likely, a warning had been passed along. We could deal with the regular troops, but the nasty beasts were jeopardizing our mission. And more of them had come through the portal gate, with two taking guard positions to keep the portal supply line open. There were 10 lavashells in the facility, with 8 of the unstoppable monsters pushing toward the stairwells.
It was difficult to tell who was winning the battle in the basement. The enemy consistently formed up in squads, 10 troopers with 2 lavashells, slogging toward the stairwells to gain access to the control room. Our teams would port in to ambush a squad, the Shades carbines tearing through the Primer shielding. The lavashells would return to the portal gate to wait for another compliment of 10 Primers. It was obvious the enemy soldiers were getting anxious, hesitant, as they made their way into the room from the portal gate. This mission was quickly degrading to a holding action that we could not sustain.
When two of the lavashells continued on toward the control room stairwell without any soldiers, we knew the tide had changed. Just a few of those things guarding the operations room would signal our demise, unless we could find another way out of the facility. Maybe we could find a way around the damage we had done to the delivery access bay with its huge drop tube, though a quick review of our excellent wrecking skills verified that was wishful thinking.
It was clear that something had to give, which is just sort of thing to push Bodey into idea-land, and to call Codey in for a consult.
Bodey and his team dropped in on the two monsters swaggering toward the stairwell. While his team convinced one of the beasts to chase them down a tight corridor, Bodey dropped on the other, glue-stick in hand, and he teleported with a twist. His aim was true as he and the monster untangled in a precarious position atop a tall, thin device of unknown purpose. After the fall, the monster looked very much like a turtle on its back, struggling to right itself. In the meantime, Codey’s team dropped in and opened fire with an IMR on full auto, a plasma tube, and a Longarm blaster.
A leak of noxious vapor was a hopeful sign that the tactic would work until the horror righted itself and ran off in the direction of its partner.
Bodey jumped on the comms as he searched his Ivees for the fuzzy dots that would signal the location of his team. “B-team, you’ve got a second monster on your tail! Rendezvous at this drop point for exfil.”
Park came back on comms as explosions rocked the area near his position. “They’ve got us pinned. Schmitt! Go the other way... ahhh, no!”
That got Bodey in motion, despite the terrible odds, as he dropped in next to Park, who was in a full sprint. His Ivees told the terrible news that Schmitt was gone.
Codey ran up, then, and grabbed his arm. “Let’s go big brother, this spot is about to get hot.”
Bodey shrugged him off. “Got to find Jones.”
Codey glanced at his Ivee readout for B-team, Bodey dots. “Schmitt and Jones are gone. Let’s go!”
Bodey slapped his Ivees in a frustrated gesture to change reality. Sc
hmitt registered as deceased. Jones didn’t register at all. As Bodey untangled in the last spot he had seen Jones, a quantum glimpse moved him to port again. He scanned the area from the vantage point of a tall piece of equipment. There was Jones, on his belly, atop another piece of equipment. He had lost his Ivees, not an easy task. They ported from there to relative safety. But Bodey had noticed something.
In a far corner that had received little attention stood something that looked more like a huge box than any sort of equipment. He ported to the box and tried to port-lift the box top. Too heavy. He scrolled his Ivees looking for the whereabouts of C-team or D-team.
Dean untangled next to him, obviously keeping tabs on his big brother, surmising Bodey had visited his idea-land, then realizing all sorts of action plans would be rattling around in that big brain of his. “Even a massive container, like this one, won’t hold one of those things.”
Bodey already knew that. “No. But help me move this lid. I’ve got a hunch.”
The combined lift capacity of the pair allowed them to port the lid to the floor. They were ever so quiet, hoping to avoid Primer attention. Weapons fire strafed the top section of the box. Bodey struck a wand and tossed it into the box, then flashed in and out in a port-recon, his Ivees recording the inside. Rather than being some sort of container, the box enclosed a shaft leading to a sublevel. Bodey ordered his brother to stay put, clearly the wrong technique given the situation. The brothers untangled in a cool, dark, empty room. It was large and unfinished.
***
Shockwave had finished off the enemy platoon that was tasked with defending the operations room in short order. Although the technicians on the other side of the clear wall looked frightened, their concern was seemingly unfounded. As Communal watched for intruders, the team threw everything they had at the wall. It was an odd substance that seemed to have the properties of blast resistant glass combined with an energized shield matrix.
A quantum glimpse just as Communal shouted warning had the team leaping to cover. Two lavashells were bearing down on their position, spewing fiery death. Comms crackled to life as Dirty Feet cleared the stairwell, repeatedly calling out the danger of the monsters, as they barely avoided their own roasting.
The shells continued on, Shockwave and Dirty Feet unable to engage, their relative positions creating a friendly fire problem. No matter, their weapons were all but worthless against the threats anyway. Of greater concern in the moment, Viz had dived behind a smallish crate when the quantum glimpse spiked, and knew she was one shot away from her demise.
As the withering fire from the monsters let up for a moment, Rock moved to get an eye on Viz, wanting to port her to a safe position. Then a scorching rain of plasmatic fire erupted all around her cover. “Viz! Ohhh. Nooo. No... Viz.”
Rock’s emotions flopped even lower when he verified that Viz’ positioning dot no longer registered on his Ivees. There was nothing left of her.
He thought of the possibility of an afterlife. Viz certainly believed in one.
When her voice range out loud and clear, in his emotional state, he wondered if someone so dear to him, for so many years, might actually communicate from the beyond. “I’m right here, Rock. Sorry, I had to cloak and run for it. Let’s find a safer spot.”
Roll, Para, and Communal joined in on the conversation. Para had clearly been crying. I’m fine, Para.
We decided to meet up in the clutter room next door. Communal was in a position to move out on foot. He had been quieter than usual, which I attributed to his disconnect from QuIM and his primary processors. The first time I asked, he reminded me of his powerful travel array and state-of-the-art quputer. Now, the best I could get, when asking if he was doing okay, was a curt affirmative. That he managed to project an annoyed tone told me he actually was doing... okay.
As we carefully gathered for our port, Rock and Roll took one last glance to verify lavashell locations. And, the monsters disappeared.
Codey and Dean had dropped in to port the beasts to the dark pit of the sublevel. It was a perfect prison for the terrifying monsters.
***
With the basement threats dealt with, Wink and Fierce moved quickly to disable the portal gate shielding, as Amy and GG acted as overwatch. Wink’s toolkit included a specialized scanner that helped locate the shield actuator, which wasn’t hidden at all. A simple cover-plate opened to reveal a standard Prime interface device. With that, Fierce jumped on with his quputer.
As he worked, he had a thought. “Amy, if this gate opens, we can all port out of here, to anywhere. Would you pop over to Enroth and Viz with that observation, please?”
Amy was back in a moment. “Captain Enroth says if the gate signals an opening, we’re to destroy it, assuming we’ve gotten through the shield. He’s concerned the Primers know about our lavashell fix, and they’ll be sending in something different. Maybe worse.”
Fierce doesn’t seem to like the order. “Did you ask Viz? This may be our only way out of this place. Ever.”
Fierce completed a keystroke and the shield went down. Then the gate lit to give notice of an impending opening.
Abramov shouted out a warning. “You will move now. Plasma tubes up! Release!”
The gate flashed and partially melted in ruin.
Abramov looked at Fierce and shrugged. “Enroth, he is in charge. Chang and Rossi, you will remain down here, on the watch. The rest, we will go upstairs. Move out.”
Enroth is pacing. We’ve tried everything we can think of to bust into the operations room. The hours are burning away, 30 hours since we entered the facility. No one can get in, but we can’t get out either. There is no discernable opening to the operations room. Wink, and her toolkit, haven’t been able to locate any sort of Primer interface that could offer an entry lock. The whole room is visible through the glass. There is no personnel portal. How do the Primers move in and out of the room?
Bodey has a suggestion. “There are beds. That’s the restroom door. The other door leads to some sort of pantry. I think these guys are sealed in there. For the duration. Maybe they serve a stint, 3-months or whatever. Then, some mucky-muck Primer comes in and waves his magic wand to open the glass wall. And a new shift begins.”
Enroth buys the explanation. “And we search aimlessly for the door that doesn’t exist, while who knows what is happening outside. I’m done with the search.
“Abramov, bring the Manly shell.”
That statement brings some nervous looks that Enroth notices. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not going to cook us. I just hope someone in there can open the wall panel from the inside.”
Bodey must have taken some lessons from Roddy. “Unlikely, sir. That would be the purpose of the wall and magic wand. No one goes in or out without the mucky-muck giving the release order.”
Enroth is in a mood, but limits his comment to an evil eye. Moody, or not, he’s no dummy. Still, it’s been quite a day.
I want to be sure of exactly what he has in mind. “Captain, I think I see where you’re going with this.”
Not knowing if the Primers in the aquarium can hear us, I motion to use comms and bring the nanem device online for privacy. “We’ve rubbed up against a few higher ups in the Empire. Perhaps you have as well. They have a look.”
Enroth is with the SID, so he’s probably in the know more than me. “The guy with the red edging to his tunic and the glowing skin that tells of his love for the outdoors. He and the pale looking female with the bright shoes who can’t keep her eyes off of him have a thing going. Probably some sort of off the books conjugal goings-on. That guy has the magic wand, or key, or whatever opens the glass wall. I want to sweat him a bit.”
I don’t have anything to add as Abramov directs Rev to set the bomb down on the floor next to the glass wall. Enroth has read our files, and knows Fierce is fluent in the Primer language. They have a quick private chat.
As Fierce explains the nature of the device, Enroth releases a nanocloud showing the distinct
flash and mushroom cloud of a thermonuclear explosion. The Primer’s eyes go wide with recognition and the clear threat. Fierce finishes his talk with an appeal.
We just want to get out of here.
The Primer isn’t stupid. He says there is no way out of the facility from his operations room. We know he’s watched us teleport hither and yon on his viewer-grids and directly through his glass wall.
He offers to deactivate the fortress exterior shielding so we can leave.
We say we don’t trust him and want to be in the room when he does it.
He looks at his girlfriend and slumps just a little.
Enroth moves to the bomb, places his finger a button, and makes like he’s going to press it.
The glass wall vanishes, and we storm in, moving everyone to the pantry except our Primer helper, and lock them in. Enroth points to the control panel and the Primer dutifully manipulates a dial.
With that, Rock fades for a moment in a quick port. “The shielding is down.”
The Primer make a motion with his hands that probably means, see, you can go now. Enroth spins him around instead and begins a thorough search as Fierce moves to the computer terminal, to find the dome deactivation routine.
Time seems to... slow... down as Fierce works the Prime operations system, his quputer helping him to dig through the firewalls, though his shaking head doesn’t give an air of optimism. “I’ll get in, but this is going to take a while. A long while.”
I point to one of the display-grids, showing the nearby dome covering the Primer base and teleportation gate. It has gone opaque and is flashing. That can’t be good.
Our Ivee translator function translates the next words from the Primer. “At least you will all die with me.”
No, we won’t. “Emergency port to LZ. Amy, grab Chang and Rossi downstairs. Where has Communal gone? There! Rock, let’s pick him up on the way. Everyone to your port-tech!”
We’ve untangled at our rendezvous point for extraction, with the fortress at least ten miles away, but the flash causes my Ivees to glaze. It’s not our little nuke. The explosion is one of those odd Empire munitions that explode, then implode. But that’s not the only action taking place. Something big just cooked off in space, visible from here in broad daylight. Another explosion, at maybe 90,000 feet. Nuclear. My Ivees tell me the signature is a Manley shell. Another. Close.
Invasion: Journal Three (Shockwave Book 3) Page 33
