Hammerfall

by David Adams

  CHAPTER 13

  Basement

  Hammerfall

  HE TOOK A SECOND TO process the body lying there. It was definitely Karpola.

  Yet the green light on his visor showing her life sign still pulsed strongly. Heartbeat calm and quiet, brain activity normal, as though she were sitting and reading a book. According to the interface, she was on duty on the landing pad.

  Pavlov and Ilyukhina exchanged a look.

  “All units, all units, priority alert.” Pavlov took a deep breath. “Karpola’s dead. Sound off by the numbers. Pavlov here.”

  “Ilyukhina here.” She shook her head at Karpola’s corpse. “Fuck.”

  “Likhovtseva here. Sir, I’m showing her as fine on my sensors.”

  Pavlov gritted his teeth. “I know. Ignore them. Sensors are compromised. Next.”

  “Jakov here.” He sounded disturbed, as one might expect.

  “Tomlin here.” Calm as a cucumber.

  Here was the hole where Karpola’s voice should be. A brief moment of silence, then Pavlov said, “Skip.”

  “Stolina here.”

  “Apalkov here.”

  “Marchenko here.”

  Everyone was okay except Karpola. That was something at least. He took a deep breath. “Copy, acknowledged. Please be advised, sensors are compromised. We can’t rely on our systems—Karpola is definitely dead, and we don’t know what other systems have been tampered with. For the moment, remain at your posts, but be wary of more intruders in the base. Break. ” He took a breath to think. “Actually, belay my last. Everyone to the lower levels. We’re going to perform a sweep of this entire structure, bottom to top, and we’re going to find answers. How copy, all?”

  Everyone acknowledged, then Pavlov closed the channel.

  “Damn,” said Ilyukhina, running her tongue over her teeth. “We should check the computers while we’re here.”

  “Right,” said Pavlov, and then he slowly made his way down the stairs to the bottom.

  The whole room was bathed in green, the energy from the reactor core. Pavlov gingerly stepped over Karpola’s body.

  God, I promise I’ll take care of her when I know it’s safe.

  He made his way to the server room, weapon pressed snugly against his shoulder, the only light the illumination of the reactor core.

  CHAPTER 14

  Pavlov’s Cell

  “I THOUGHT YOU SAID YOU killed them all?” Yanovna tapped on her tablet. “Your squadmates, I mean.”

  “I didn’t specify all,” said Pavlov. “And just to be clear for whatever you’re writing down: no, I didn’t kill Karpola. She was with us on many missions…I mourned her loss.”

  “Did you bury her?”

  “No,” said Pavlov. “We didn’t have time. Believe me, I wanted to. I was going to bury her out by the outskirts of the facility, away from the Separatist dead.”

  Chainsaw shifted on his bed in the next cell over. Pavlov had almost forgotten she was there. “You know,” said Chainsaw, “if that body is recoverable, skull crushed and all, forensics might be able to match up what killed her. It’s not definite proof of your superman, but it’s something, no?”

  Pavlov wished his hangover would clear up. “You’re right. The body would definitely have survived the destruction of the facility’s reactor that was, you know, fifteen metres away from where she was lying. If we could just dig down under the rubble, then it would be the smoking gun to prove what I’m saying is true.”

  “Not quite,” said Yanovna carefully. “Even if we hypothetically recovered that body—”

  “Which we can’t,” said Pavlov. “It was incinerated.”

  “That would only be proof that Karpola is dead, although it might prove to be evidence—flimsy, circumstantial evidence—that would mitigate your responsibility in this matter.”

  “At this point,” said Pavlov, “I don’t think I’ll look a gift horse, one less murder charge, in the mouth.”

  “Wise advice,” said Yanovna. “Although, as discussed, that’s unlikely.”

  Right. “Anyway,” said Pavlov. “The next thing we checked out was the reactor…”

  * * *

  Basement

  Hammerfall

  Away from the main staircase, the facility’s reactor core throbbed with power, various tubes and lights glowing faintly in the dark. Almost all green.

  The colour came from the coolant pipes. The liquid flowed, the lifeblood of the entire building, the reactor its throbbing, beating heart. The instrument was small—only the size of a car—but even being a few metres away made his hair stand on end, tingling slightly against his scalp. The raw power of it was palpable.

  “Keep your weapons tight,” said Pavlov. “If we hit that thing…”

  Ilyukhina pointed to one of the cooling pipes. It was heavily dented, scratched and beaten, and there were dozens of shell casings lying in a small pile near one of the corners. “Looks like someone already tried. Fortunately, I think you’d need an AT-rocket or something to get through that kind of smart-steel.”

  Thank God for Russian over-engineering. You came through for me, God. If that coolant pipe had been breached, we would have all been killed in our sleep. I know you have a plan for everyone, but I kind of hope that whatever you’ve got in store for me is a little more important than being blown to subatomic particles without having the chance to shit my pants before all is said and done.

  Swearing at God always seemed odd to him, but He forgave all sins.

  “Sir?” asked Ilyukhina. “You okay?”

  “Sorry,” he said. “Just…thinking about what might have happened if that thing had breached. Who do you think did it?”

  “Our friend, no doubt,” said Ilyukhina. “He probably saw Karpola here and took her out. But what was she doing in the basement? She was supposed to be on duty with Tomlin.”

  A niggling, nasty thought crept into his mind. “You don’t think…it was her who tried to blow the thing, do you?”

  Ilyukhina grimaced sceptically. “You’re telling me that she tried to destroy the reactor in the building she was living in, and when her rifle couldn’t finish the job, she…crushed her own head?”

  Pavlov could not possibly explain it. “Let’s check the servers,” he said. “See if we can get the radio working. Talk to Fleet Command.”

  “It is the height of delusion to think that Fleet Command would grow ears to hear, a heart to care, and a brain to decide.” Ilyukhina adjusted her visor, flicking between vision modes. “But what the hell.”

  The basement was the smallest of all levels, and in a few moments, they were outside the room labelled Computer Equipment.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Do it.” Ilyukhina gripped her rifle tight.

  Pulling open the door, a quick look told him everything he needed to know. The entire server room was toast. Someone had gone to town on it with a steel bar, bashing everything into scrap. Exposed wires and shattered circuit boards lay in pieces all around, their cases and mounting frames bent beyond recognition.

  In the centre of the room, plugged in with blackened wires, was a new system. A black, oblong box. Featureless except for its vents. It hummed away quietly.

  “What the hell is this?” Pavlov circled it cautiously.

  Ilyukhina ran her hand along the top of it, her fingers coming away with a thin coat of dust. “This isn’t a new installation. Whoever installed this did so long before we arrived.”

  He scrolled though the facility’s logs on his computer. “It’s not on the system logs,” he said.

  “Figures,” said Ilyukhina. “If at first you don’t succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.”

  Still, such a thing would have had to have been done with the head scientist’s approval. Pavlov’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Chuchnova.”

  “It looks like a replacement mainframe.” Ilyukhina squatted beside it, pulling out a cable from her visor. She plugged in. “Yup,” she said, reading
off her visor. “This is the ‘main system’ of the building we’ve all been interfacing with. It’s replaced whatever was there before. It’s been monitoring our communications, lying to us, and generally playing spy. I’m guessing it hid the Separatist who got into the building.”

  Computers. “I’m not exactly a tech,” said Pavlov, “but I know how to deal with spies.” He unclipped a claymore mine and magnetically attached it to the side of the box. The device hummed as it armed.

  “Right you are, sir,” said Ilyukhina.

  They stepped outside, closed the door, hid behind the wall for good measure, and Pavlov pressed the detonator.

  Kra-kow. The whole room shook. Dust and ashes filled the air, giving the whole basement a foggy quality.

  The display on his visor winked out, then returned as the local systems took up the slack. They wouldn’t have location information and would have to rely less on their systems, but at least their data was accurate.

  Karpola’s true data came through. Red. Flat. Dead.

  So did everyone else’s. Most of the squad’s heartbeats were up, especially the new guys. There was also something…odd with some of their brainwaves. Higher Delta-frequency wave patterns, as though they were all sleepwalking. Apalkov’s, too. Only his, Ilyukhina’s and Likhovtseva’s were normal.

  The three new guys were weird. Apalkov was weird.

  What was going on?

  Then he heard footsteps, and he and Ilyukhina raised their rifles together.

  CHAPTER 15

  Pavlov’s Cell

  “SO,” SAID YANOVNA. “NOW WE’RE starting to get somewhere. Delta brainwaves, was it?”

  “Yeah.” Pavlov cupped his right hand in his left, trying to focus. “I didn’t think much of it at the time. I’m not a doctor. It was just something I noticed.”

  “But,” said Chainsaw from the next cell over, “it’s evidence, isn’t it? Can we review the combat logs and see these Delta brainwaves for ourselves?”

  That was a good point. His helmet recorded everything. “I told you, I don’t have my armour. It was left behind in the base. And the mainframe backup…toast.”

  Yanovna nodded understandingly, though it seemed slightly condescending. “Right.”

  “Anyway,” said Pavlov. “So our systems were crippled by the loss of the mainframe, and we heard footsteps…”

  * * *

  Basement

  Hammerfall

  Pavlov almost shot Jakov in the head as he came around the corner, weapon similarly raised. Twice in one day, he was grateful for the red-green training.

  “Cука блядь,” said Pavlov, exhaling and lowering his weapon. “Took your damn time.”

  “I was on the other side of the facility,” said Jakov breathlessly, looking around at the smoky basement, his eyes briefly flicking to Karpola’s body. “Where’s everyone else? They should have been here by now.”

  I’m not sure they’re coming, Pavlov wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. A swift look at his readouts showed that Jakov’s brainwaves were normal.

  “Fuck those guys,” said Ilyukhina. “They’re all crazy.”

  “You noticed too?” asked Jakov, to Pavlov’s infinite relief. “Apalkov turned into a boy scout, stopped drinking, and there’s something weird and fucked up about the new guys. Just something in their eyes, you know? Unsettling. Bunch of psychopaths with scrambled eggs for brains.”

  “Maybe they’re all like that in Vitaly Three,” said Pavlov. “Bit morose. Standoffish. Weird. The Khorsky system sounds like a lovely place to vacation.”

  “We should go there after we’re done with here,” said Ilyukhina. “Catch the crazy, too.”

  Everyone laughed the same nervous, relieved laughter they had in the dropship. It seemed such a wild idea, that simply being in a place might make someone insane.

  Then, silence.

  “So,” said Pavlov. “We can’t report back to the Varyag. We’re here on our own.”

  “You’re in command,” said Ilyukhina. “Your word goes, sir.”

  That was a fancy way of saying, I have no fucking idea either.

  His guess was as good as anyone’s. “Let’s meet up with the others. Whatever’s gotten into them, we can talk it through.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Jakov, the very edges of his words clipped with sarcasm. “Let’s try and talk. Arf to the motherfucking arf.”

  With weapons in hand, the three of them climbed the stairs out of the basement and away from the ruined mainframe. Pavlov took point, rifle held comfortably in his hands. He turned left coming out of the stairs, walked to the end of the passageway, and carefully peeked around the corner.

  It was that caution that saved him as the crack crack of rounds snapped into the bulkhead, screaming past his ears. “Cука блядь!” He pulled his head back as more bullets whizzed past the doorway like angry wasps.

  Apalkov had tried to shoot him.

  “It’s me!” shouted Pavlov. “You говноед! Мудак!” What an arsehole.

  No response. Apalkov was out there, though. Just waiting for him to poke his head out. Pavlov moved the tip of his rifle around the corner, activating a camera on the side of the rifle’s foregrip, projecting the view onto his visor.

  Apalkov was prone at the end of the corner, rifle propped up on his elbow. There was something on his face—a happiness that was so genuine and so complete that, for a second, Pavlov couldn’t help but be vaguely shaken by it.

  “Apalkov?” asked Pavlov. “I’m strongly considering coming out now. Don’t shoot.”

  Again, no response. Only that creepy, continuous smile. Hardly reassuring.

  “I just want to talk to you,” said Pavlov. “You’re stressed out. You’re sick. There’s something in your brain—”

  “Something wonderful,” said Apalkov, the joy dripping from his voice.

  “Are you high?” asked Pavlov. “Drugs? Is that it? The guys from the Khorsky sector give you something while you were out together, in the jungle?” He tilted the camera slightly. “Because we can help with that, too. Rehab is a thing. You know that Yanovna will be good to you. I’ll talk to her. We’ll just ship you back to the Varyag, and we’ll get you clean. Even spetsnaz can get addicted to things. Just gotta come clean, we can help you.”

  “You couldn’t possibly understand.” Apalkov smiled at him through the weird fish-eye lens of the camera. “Not yet. But you will.”

  “I’m not taking any of your weird drugs,” said Pavlov. “So…how about we all calm down, and you stop pointing that gun in ways that make me nervous?”

  Apalkov aimed right toward the camera. Through it, Pavlov could see straight down the barrel.

  There was a flash and a shot that nearly tore the gun out of his hands.

  What the fuck? thought Pavlov. The guy is crazy.

  “What the fuck?” said Ilyukhina. “The guy is crazy.”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” said Jakov.

  Right.

  Pavlov considered, staring down at the smoking foregrip of his gun. The camera was broken, but the barrel didn’t seem dented…it could still fire. Probably.

  Would it come to that? The weirdos were just sick…they needed help. But at the same time, Apalkov had shown he was ready to use force.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he said. “We should exfil from the building.”

  “What?” Ilyukhina gripped her rifle tight. “You mean, leave Hammerfall? Go out into the jungle, where the enemy is?”

  “I’m not afraid of the Separatists,” said Pavlov. “If they show their faces, we can take them on. But our own guys…”

  Ilyukhina and Jakov said nothing.

  Pavlov took a breath, trying to formulate a plan. Focus, focus…

  “Honestly,” said Ilyukhina, “that’s not a bad idea. We can get out into the jungle, and we can make for the city…call the Fat Lady, get her to come down to extract us, then blow the whole station from orbit.”

  “I’m all
for that,” said Jakov. “Let Fleet turn this place into rubble.”

  “What about the scientists?” asked Ilyukhina. “Who’ll protect them now?”

  “We’ll take them with us.”

  The two others nodded. “Arf arf.”

  Pavlov took a deep breath, shouldered his rifle, and then he led his team up the stairs toward the cows.

  CHAPTER 16

  Pavlov’s Cell

  “WAIT,” SAID YANOVNA, HER EYES widening slightly. “You abandoned your post?”

  “Our post was gone,” said Pavlov. “The lunatics were running the asylum. Saving the scientists became our priority. We needed to report what we’d discovered. So we left.”

  “Right,” said Yanovna. “How did that go?”

  Pavlov snorted. “Well, since you asked…”

  * * *

  Basement

  Hammerfall

  Pavlov held the tiny metal cross in one hand and draped a cloth over the shattered mess that was once Karpola’s face. It was the best he could do.

  “I feel like I should say something,” he said. “Doesn’t feel right to just…leave her here.”

  “So go ahead,” said Ilyukhina. “Say whatever you like. She doesn’t give a shit. She’s dead.”

  Her body might not, but her immortal soul, well…

  Pavlov took a breath.

  “God our Father,

  Your power brings us to birth,

  Your providence guides our lives,

  and by Your command we return to dust.

  Lord, those who die still live in Your presence,

  their lives change but do not end.

  I pray in hope for my family,

  relatives and friends,

  and for all the dead known to You alone.

  In company with Christ,