The Feeding of Sorrows

by Rob Howell

  At the far corner, I glanced around the building and saw a plain, white van gleaming in the darkness like a beacon. It had no tags.

  My sweeper confirmed the larger signal came from the van. I could tell that high-powered shielding defended the transmitter.

  My boss had specifically stated I wasn’t to use the full strength of the sweeper. We had managed to keep the fact that it included a hybrid symplant secret for a while. But fuck it. I had wanted to quit for a year.

  I cranked it up and aimed it at the van. There was nothing subtle about what I did. I pitted an advanced Galactic-tech power source against a Human design.

  Every monitor in the Houston metro area or that had line of sight from space couldn’t fail to register what I did. However, it worked. The Human design failed. An intense high-pitched whine shot out of the van. Immediately, the vehicle started rocking as the people inside ripped off their headphones and scrambled to escape the shriek that filled it.

  They stumbled out, shaking their heads. As they careened onto the pavement, I drew my GP-90. I put three 10mm slugs into the Human driver. Out of the sliding door came three other men and a Zuul. I emptied the mag into that cluster.

  Two went down. One man staggered, but pulled out his own GP-90 and fired a burst at me. I dove to the side, and his shots went over me as recoil pulled his gun up.

  I replaced my magazine and took him down with another burst, then ran to the van.

  The Zuul was the only one still alive. “To the swamp with you,” he growled through his pain.

  I started to reach for my medkit. Picking his brain would be invaluable.

  But he wouldn’t survive those holes in his chest. And there was no time for me to do anything, not with those fire teams around.

  He growled again. I finished him off with a single shot.

  Zuul skulls explode nicely. The odd thought distracted me.

  Renewed sniper fire drew my attention away from the sapphire splash of his blood.

  I shut off the sweeper and the feedback in the van stopped. I jumped into it and heard the fire teams calling in, wondering what the hell had happened. I ignored them. My sweeper still hadn’t found the encryption key, but now I had physical access. I plugged the sweeper into their system, and it broke through their firewall in eight seconds.

  Eight long seconds.

  More evidence this was no ordinary hit.

  The sweeper beeped, and I scanned the network list.

  Shit, there are five fire teams. I dumped the freshly updated threat list into the Lyon’s messaging service. He’d bring help, but when seconds were precious…

  I could see three of the fire teams, including the reserve, moving around the buildings toward the van. The other two teams had halted, but they were already within sight of the Foresters. Judging by the angles of the street, the Foresters probably still had some cover but not enough. A barrage of automatic fire, heavier than GP-90, ripped out. Then another.

  Controlling their comms would be the first step. I dumped a special virus into their system. It took time, but it would find the encryption key even if it wasn’t commercial, among a variety of other tasks. Once done, I yanked the sweeper out and jumped out of the van.

  Time to get out of the open.

  My only reasonable escape route was through the sniper team in the near building. I ran to the only door I could see that didn’t have bars blocking it. It was locked, but only with an electronic lock. The sweeper found the lock frequency in less than a second. I slid inside and took time to lock the door behind me.

  The hall was dirty and filled with litter. A little light filtered in through a variety of openings, but not much. Still, after my eyes adjusted, I could make out places to put my feet without stepping on anything large.

  The icons for the sniper team appeared to be right on me. They had to be above me, so I ascended the first set of stairs I could find, GP-90 at the ready. I slid carefully around each turn of the stairs.

  A scrap of trash slid out from under my foot. I slipped and slid down two stairs. That would hurt later.

  The sniper fire above me stopped, and I could see their icons moving slightly back and forth.

  Must have heard me.

  I crept up the stairs. This time I tested each footstep before putting full pressure on the step.

  On the top floor, a moonbeam came through a cracked window, making a strange pattern on the wall. I could see the open door where the sniper team awaited me.

  A flash-bang would’ve been useful. I’ll bring one the next time I go to the Lyon’s Den.

  Without one, I had no idea how I was going to get through the door without being shot.

  The Foresters gave me that opportunity. Outside, I heard a yell, followed by sharp, tight three-round bursts from several GP-90s. Heavier automatic rifle fire from the two teams that pinned them down responded.

  Hoping their breakout attempt distracted the snipers, I dove into the room. I rolled through the trash and fired a burst at where I guessed they were.

  They weren’t there.

  Fortunately, their initial shots missed me too.

  I continued to roll as I fired another three-round burst at a dim shape. The roll caused my last bullet to veer offline, but the first two slammed the figure into the wall. Another shape moved and I put a burst into it, too.

  No time to double-check their pulses before moving to the sniper rifle, which was still in the window.

  Dead or not, they left me alone as I nestled my cheek against the stock. It was a common weapon for snipers, a Lee-Enfield-Ruger 15mm with a low-light, infrared-enhanced telescope. I figured it was loaded with caseless, tungsten, spider rounds. I adjusted my eyes to the weird light of the scope. The mag readout said I had seventeen rounds.

  My pinplant helped me narrow down the location of the other sniper, and I saw a muzzle flash. I gauged the wind, marked it with the sight, took a breath, let it out, and fired. Then I fired twice more as quickly as I could pull the trigger.

  The sweeper could tell me if there was an active transmitter in that location, but not whether its user still lived. I had no idea whether I had hit the sniper, but if I had, his spotter would take his place. The Foresters needed me to put rounds in the far fire team to eliminate the crossfire as quickly as I could.

  My first shot at that team was hasty, and it missed. My second was even hastier, but I got lucky. It went through a target’s neck, and with the scope’s infrared enhancement, I could see all eight of the spider round’s submunitions flash behind him and bounce off the street.

  The decapitation startled his teammate who paused slightly. I took a proper breath and put a round through his eye.

  The rest of the fire team went to ground, so there were no more easy targets.

  The spotter from the sniper team was probably in place.

  I rolled to my left, down and out of the window.

  Just in time.

  His shot hit the rifle. Submunitions caromed off, and one sliced along the back of my leg. Not my ass, I hope.

  I may not have had a flash-bang, but I always carried a few self-sealing bandages. I slapped one on my leg and crawled toward the door. There was no way I was going to let the sniper see my profile through the window.

  Wisely, as it turned out. He put a series of spider rounds through the window and across the room. They penetrated the wall but missed me. I slithered out of the room and ran down the steps faster than any wounded man ought to move.

  I slowed as I reached the floor below the sniper perch. The three fire teams that had chased me were close. One had stopped at the van. One patrolled the street. And the other had come in to help the sniper team.

  My sweeper pinged in my pinplant. It had finally found the encryption key for the comm system. Immediately, all of the conversations started scrolling through my pinplant. I highlighted the messages involving the fire team in the building.

  “Mikey, cover that hallway. Steve, you and Koon take the stairwell.”
>
  I retreated back up the stairs and crawled back into the sniper’s nest. While I waited for Steve and Koon to get close, I voiceprinted the commander who had just given those orders.

  When they were on the stairs near the sniper’s nest, I opened a channel directed at the two of them and said in their commander’s voice, “Steve, Koon, the guy’s in the next room at the window! Get him quick.”

  In case they used a flash-bang, I closed my eyes and watched them jump into the room via my pinplant. At only three meters, I could aim accurately enough through my pinplants. I fired two quick bursts and they went down.

  I switched magazines. Only two mags left.

  Normally four magazines was enough for a night at the Lyon’s Den. Apparently, Miss Manners now suggested at least eight.

  Fortunately, weapons and ammo were right in front of me. Steve and Koon had carried old, but useful, 4mm Kalashnikov AK-218s with pinplant link upgrades. As my pinplant synced with one, I gathered four extra magazines. They had more, but if this wasn’t enough, I was going to be in trouble.

  Besides, the Lyon would be there in less than ten minutes.

  The commander shouted, “Steve, Koon, what the hell are you doing?”

  I almost answered him, but without a voiceprint of either of the two I had killed, I decided it was more important he thought his comms were secure.

  After a moment, he continued. “Chuckie, status?”

  I set the comms filter to highlight the speakers so I could track their locations as they responded.

  “This is Khalil. Chuckie’s down. A bunch of the Foresters are down, too, but the rest have taken cover in a new doorway. It’s deep, and we can’t target them.” His icon was north of the Foresters, along the same road.

  “Max, how about you?” The icon of the sniper in the other building brightened.

  A voice spoke through the comm. “Max bought it. I’m shifting position. This spot is blown, and I don’t have an angle either.”

  There was a double-click of acknowledgement. Then, “Leslie, status?”

  “We’re down to just me and Pudge.” The response came from the group south of the Foresters that I had shot with the sniper rifle. “The others got hit when the Foresters tried their breakout. We’ve got them pinned down now, but we don’t have an angle into their cover. They haven’t fired in a while; I think they’re out of ammo.”

  “Good. You and Khalil keep their heads down. Terry, stay in here, and don’t let anyone come down from upstairs. There’s someone here, but we need to focus on finishing off the Foresters.”

  “Gotcha,” the man from below responded. He was in a bad position, from my point of view. No way to get past him without giving him a good chance to kill me.

  “Julio, meet me at the initial corner.”

  “Si.”

  Shit. I couldn’t do anything to help the Foresters from here, and that commander was smart enough to know that. But there’s always another way to skin a cat.

  I pulled down the building’s blueprints from the city’s department of planning site. They were undoubtedly out of date, but odds were good the roof access wouldn’t have changed. I ran to it. Speed was more important than silence.

  “Somebody’s moving upstairs, boss,” reported Terry.

  It was just as well he heard me; he would have something to think about.

  There was more trash on the roof. I scuttled through it to take a quick peek at the Foresters’ position. They still held, but with the other fire teams moving in and little to no ammo, they didn’t have much time.

  Using the boss’s voiceprint, I sent a message to all but him, “Leslie and Khalil, get ready. Julio, go get them!”

  The teams at the side began providing covering fire. Julio’s team got up and charged.

  I could hear the boss yelling at them to stop, but halting a charge has never been easy.

  I leaned over the eave. Julio’s team had their backs to me as they advanced. A three-round burst, and the rear man fell. I aimed at the next to last and put him down, too. Unfortunately, the third one noticed and went to ground. The lead man heard the boss’s frantic commands and turned around with a look of confusion. I wiped that look off his face.

  I moved away from the eaves and ran along the roof to the next building. I dropped three meters and continued to the next one, this time slithering over the meter-and-a-half wall. This put me right over one of the covering teams and within range of the other one.

  As I ran, I heard the boss cursing Julio for charging too quickly, but Julio seemed to have difficulty answering.

  If it worked once, it might work again.

  Using the commander’s voiceprint, I sent another message. “Khalil, we’re almost out of time. Rush the Foresters now!”

  He was either a coward or smarter than Julio, and he hesitated. “Are you sure, boss?”

  “Am I sure about what?” the real commander asked.

  “Rushing them now?”

  “Are you fucking nuts?”

  “You said we’re almost out of time, that we need to rush them!”

  “Hell I did!” There was a pause. “Dammit, commo’s compromised! We weren’t paid enough for this, and that asshole Zuul is dead. Get out of here. You know where to meet.”

  A variety of agreements sounded on the channel. I leaned out to get in some parting shots, but there was a huge explosion behind me. He blew the van, I thought, shaking my head at the sound.

  When the network went down, the threat icons disappeared from my pinplant. Since I couldn’t be sure where the enemies were, I made my way slowly down to the street. By the time I reached it, the Lyon was there with some Lumar and a group of regulars.

  “Check fire,” he said when he saw me. “What happened?”

  “Somebody ambushed the Foresters when they left your place. If any are alive, they’re holed up over there.”

  “Who did this?”

  “I don’t know yet. They weren’t proper mercs, I can tell you that. Thugs, but tough ones with pretty good equipment.” I held out the AK-218. “And there was a Zuul.”

  “Damn.”

  “There’s a data dump waiting for me, and hopefully I’ll know more after I look at it.”

  “You’ll let me know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Bullitt’s going to be pissed that you’re this involved. I’m not going to let someone hit my customers, so it’s still not your business.”

  The Lyon and I stared at each other for a long moment. I finally said, “Maybe my business has changed.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 4 – Kal’shin Tahnerif

  Stalkers in the Stars Hunting Lodge

  Tahv

  “It’s confirmed?” asked Kal’shin Tahnerif.

  “It is.” The Zuul in front of him laid her pad on Tahnerif’s desk and held her paws at her side, shoulders hunched. “We recovered about half of our kin from the three companies we sent to Peninnah.”

  “And Fahrissthan’s littermate?” asked the kal’shin.

  “No. Fahrinan died well, ensuring a trapped squad could escape, but…”

  Tahnerif wrinkled his muzzle. “I understand, Rei’shin Akuwin. We’ve seen it before.”

  The rei’shin flicked her ears in assent. After a pause, “What now?”

  “First, I tell Fahrissthan.”

  “I don’t envy you that. We thought she hated the Foresters before, but now…”

  “Yes.” Tahnerif activated his comm unit. “Rei’shins Fahrissthan and Qarsh to my briefing room.”

  A few moments later, Tahnerif and his subordinates sat around a conference table. Immediately, he turned to the largest one. “Fahrissthan, we have news from Peninnah.”

  The rei’shin’s eyes narrowed. “We slew many of them?”

  “Yes, it seems we eliminated about a third of their armored troopers on the planet.”

  “And the rest? When will Fahrinan resume the assault?”

  Tahnerif took a breath. “She won�
�t. She hunts with the Great Hunter now.”

  Fahrissthan stood and loomed over her commander, rage burning in her eyes. “Treachery!”

  “Treachery? No.” Tahnerif waved a paw. “She was a leader of the pack to the end. She died covering a squad’s retreat.”

  “The Foresters—”

  “Killed her in combat while she was shooting at them,” interjected Akuwin. “That is confirmed by all of our kin who witnessed these deeds. There was no treachery. Even the faithless Foresters cannot be damned for killing someone shooting at them in the middle of a battle.”

  “What would a coward—”

  “Snap your muzzle shut, Fahrissthan. You will not call your packmates cowards without good reason, or I’ll kill you myself!” snarled Tahnerif. He stood up and pointed a claw at his rei’shin. “Now, sit down while I decide what to do.”

  Fahrissthan howled and started to leave the room.

  “If you exit this room, Rei’shin, I’ll inform the Great Packleaders on Tahv that you’re forbidden to hunt with us. We’ll not feed or house you or your descendants ever again.” Tahnerif’s icy threat shocked the other Zuul.

  Fahrissthan stood motionless, facing the door, muscles tense with the need to pounce.

  “I mourn your littermate, sister,” said Qarsh through bared fangs. “My rage doesn’t burn as brightly as yours, but I won’t rest until these Foresters are naught but dinner for the Slyest Prey. I’d rather have you at our side, though. In my hunt, I see you as the one who slays Colonel Edmonds.”

  The standing rei’shin turned swiftly around with a snarl. “And that I’ll do. I won’t give him an honorable death. I’ll slay him as he slew our kin.”

  “That remains to be seen, Fahrissthan.” Tahnerif gestured at the chair. “You may share in my hunt as we have shared since we were younglings, or you may leave. However, you will remember that this is my pack and my hunt.” Tahnerif’s eyes didn’t leave the rei’shin. “I promise you this, we’ll continue this hunt to its end. We will not fail the Great Hunter.”