“Genie, rhino,” she identified. “He’s dead, still warm, like the rest of ‘em.”
“How long till your toxicology tests are done?” Bellerophon asked, looking the body over.
“Hour, maybe less,” she replied. She used a small medical scalpel to slice off a corner of the rhino-genie’s ear, and tucked it into a sample pouch. “Let’s keep moving.”
* * *
The team steadily advanced under the protective aegis of Charlie, above and behind them on the roadway exit ramp. They stacked, and when Kratos got the squeeze on his shoulder, he took two steps out, clearing the entryway and moving inside and left, sweeping for targets. The carbon-fiber frame atrium was twenty storeys high, a triple-canopy faux-jungle open to the humid Montoyan air, angled to match the outside pyramid shape of the arcology. High-intensity illumination from outside gave an ethereal feel to the interior as thin shafts of light pierced the jungle veil and glinted off banks of mist that shrouded the upper structure. The entire atrium remained open to the elements, with trees, ferns, and looping vines hiding the structure behind, like a nature center at a zoo. Small kiosks and infotainment displays deliberately made to look ancient were tucked among the leafy green branches.
Another dead security officer lay in front of the welcome kiosk, his radio just beyond an outstretched hand. This one looked far more like a werewolf than the dead man outside had looked like a rhinoceros. Tall, lean, broad shoulders and narrow waist, exaggerated biceps, forearms, hands and claws. The head was completely furred, pointed canine ears mounted high on the head, not on the side of the skull like a human’s. If he didn’t know better, Kratos would have guessed the wolfman was another species altogether.
The uniform the dead officer wore was obviously custom tailored to his own unique size and shape, with a strong but light non-Newtonian breastplate, pauldrons, and greaves. He wore a sergeant’s chevrons on his collar and a thick power cord connected his NanoTempest™ ion blaster to a twenty-five kilo powerpack on his back. Kratos was impressed—ion blasters tended to be cyborg, crew-served or vehicle-mounted weapons, due to the energy-pack requirements. That this wolfman was patrolling with the same blaster on his back as Kratos was spoke volumes about the wolfman’s strength and vitality. Kratos grimaced as he collected an eartip from the deceased security officer, and muttered “a million four, a million four” as he stashed the sample on his harness.
“Search in pairs,” Bellerophon ordered, and Kratos moved down the concourse with Ryu watching his flank. He found four more wolf genie bodies and two “infotainment” animal pens. One pen held a pack of Terran wolves, dead, and another had a leopard, dead.
“This whole city is a fucking crime scene,” Kratos complained. The informational kiosks were on a quiet loop, explaining how the mad scientists at PSG had found a way to introduce non-human mammal DNA to their volunteers, ‘gifting’ them with that which evolution had not. The last, largest pen had three rhinoceros, but unlike everything else, they were unconscious, or sleeping. They were the first living beings they’d seen since clearing customs.
“What the fuck happened here, boss?” Kratos wondered over their internal circuit.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care to know. I need you to blow the door, we need access to a higher-tier network hub than these little infotainment displays. We’re going in.”
* * *
“It’s about time they started figuring this “genetic manipulation” shit out, huh?” Kratos opined. “Maybe if these Paragon guys had gotten started on their genetic work, say, a century or two ago, none of us would be ‘borgs.’” He’d blown open two barely reinforced doors, and had just kicked open the third, to get into a secure section of the arcology. He wondered idly if Paragon Savage Genetics had pinned their security strategy on “hope no one hits us,” which didn’t seem like much of a strategy at all.
“I’m not real keen on messing with genetic coding,” Daedalus disagreed, from behind the security feed display. He pointed to the menagerie of animals kept on site as a source of DNA for PSG’s mods. “Look at these mods they’re doing. Genetically, they’re ninety-eight percent human. But the two percent they’re fucking with, twists them until they’re anything but.”
“That’s what I’m saying!” Kratos retorted. “I would rather be ninety-eight percent human, and two percent badass werewolf, than ninety-eight percent titanium alloy and two percent brain. For one thing, genies get laid. Artemis, seriously, back me up here, tell me you wouldn’t rather be a cat woman. Me-oww!”
Artemis shook her head. “How many times have you had a limb blown off, only to fab a replacement in the field and get back to work?” she argued. “Meat is all well and good, but healing from injury is a pain in the ass and some injuries just don’t get better without synthetic parts. I’d choose synthetic every day and twice on weekends. Besides, VR stim works just fine for me, and that’s all you need to know about that, thank you very much.”
“Sababa! Download’s done,” Nephilim announced. The drive their employer provided had scoured the PSG network for three long minutes before dumping huge volumes of data onto the multi-petabyte drive. They hadn’t gotten the entire database, but the drive’s worms had known what kind of data to look for, and had prioritized what to download. The internal firewall hadn’t stood a chance; it was far more vulnerable to physical intrusion than hacking via the local ‘net. “If you shovav are done kibitzing instead of standing sentry, we can bounce.”
“I’ve got another movement alarm, one floor up,” Daedalus said, looking up from the terminal. He ran the footage back, and caught a shifting shadow on the edge of the camera.
“Hit the stack, Jack,” Kratos urged. “Whatever that was is the only other living thing here beyond us and the rhinos. They’re too late.”
“Bringing Charlie around,” Janus advised, and activated a macro he’d established while they waited for the worm to pillage the database. They exited the arcology and met their M.A.T.T. at the atrium gate, ramp lowered.
Kratos paused at the ramp to scan the environment behind them as the remaining cyborgs mounted up. As sensitive as the sensor hairs on his helmet were, the human brain was wired to perceive movement as a primary threat indicator, and his helmet reduced his peripheral vision somewhat. He was therefore surprised when a heavy impact from above knocked him prone onto his back. A long, lean female figure crouched over him with a knee on his ribcage and a hand at his throat. Her other hand controlled his elbow, shoulder and wrist, all locked out, and she crouched behind his hoplon e-shield as cover. She wore black, form-fitting armor that could have been a wetsuit, with a helmet, tinted visor, and rebreather.
Seven rifles swung to point at her, and she shouted “STOP!” in a harsh, rasping voice, made even stranger by the rebreather she wore. She released her grip on Kratos’ arm, pulled the vibroknife she’d held to his neck away, and took a step back.
“I could haf keeled him, but I didn’t,” she declared in heavily accented Escobaran English. “I don’ know who you are or what you want, but if you have a way out of this…cemetario, I beg mercy—take me with you?”
Kratos scrambled to his feet and took a step back.
“Fuck you, lady,” Kratos spat, “Attack me and then beg for a ride?”
“Had I wish’ you dead, you would be dead, sir,” she replied evenly. “I would be as well, after your amigos open’ fire, but la muerte es no bueno for either of us. How better to prove I mean you no harm, than to have you at my mercy and let you live? I merely ask you return the favor.”
“Takes some talent to skulk up on a Myrmidon, lady,” Bellerophon said, stepping out of Charlie’s interior, “and you’re only the second living thing we’ve seen. The rhinos snoozing out front don’t seem to be talkative, so maybe you have some idea why everyone around here has caught a severe case of death?”
“I don’ know,” she replied simply. “I am a genie, an infiltrator for Paragon Savage. I was practicing insertions in our swim tank, but whe
n I come up, my trainer, he’d collapse.’ Security was responding to Rico, when the other tech collapsed too, less than a minute later. I watched, and they breathing slow, more and more, until they stopped breathing altogether. I called for help, but no one come, and when I go searching...todos murieron, all dead, all gone. I have nowhere to go, but PSG had food, had facilities, so I stayed put while I tried to figure out what was going on. Then I watch you arrive in your fancy tank and hoped it was rescue. Up to you, whether it is.”
“Artemis, search. Thor, cover,” Bellerophon ordered. “If she twitches the wrong way, we blast her. Your name?”
“My name is Selina Linares,” she replied. “But my team lead called me Ocelot. I find myself very recently unemployed—you hiring?”
“Maybe,” Bellerophon replied, cautiously. “Whatever happens, until we’re done with the op, you’re a neutral third party, at best. You want a lift to orbit or beyond, it’ll cost.”
“I can pay,” Selina promised.
* * *
The C4 M.A.T.T. stalked the death-stricken streets of Magdalena, avoiding wrecked ground vehicles that choked the inner roadways and too many dead innocents to count. They’d diverted around two major riots-turned-mass graves, hundreds or thousands dead in the streets, no signs of trauma. Escobaran law enforcement, in their visored riot gear, lay dead too. A few wore gas masks, but whatever had killed them had bypassed even those. Janus took Charlie around one more corner, and Apex Energies’ Escobaran headquarters came into view. The HQ was a megascraper that occupied most of the city block and soared ninety storeys into the sky.
“I’ve got two of those Coyote suits on post out front,” Daedalus warned. “Active emissions, live pilots. Broadcasting in the clear: “Attention Queens’ First Lancers, this is Myrmidons Incorporated. Relief and extract have arrived. Stand by for Duke North’s authentication,” he sent, and uploaded a proprietary security certificate that could only have come from the Duke.
There was a delay before the heavily armored troops in front of the building responded.
“It’s about goddamn time,” came a gravelly response. “I ain’t no ten-ply, but front row seats to an apocalypse are overrated. You could be cloneleggers from New Shanghai, and I wouldn’t care, bud.”
* * *
Apex Energies’ vehicle park was in the basement, accessed via thorough security protocols for every person and the entire vehicle. The two Coyotes marched in, flanking Charlie, and were hosed down and blown dry. Four more of the eight foot suits of armor stood inside, empty. The Ridian OIC dispatched two of his troops to resume guard outside until matters were settled, and they came running from a ready-room already suited up.
Once past the gauntlet of cleansers, scanners and UV, Leftenant “call me Wayne” Keeso dismounted from his suit. He shook hands and escorted the group to a cargo elevator that could carry their combined mass all at once.
“Well, how to sum up?” Keeso began. “Apex Energy is about the only other Ridian interest our embassy had in the area, and we’d already integrated with them, what with the riots and the unrest. Ambassador Mylette gave the order weeks ago, we lit the burn bin, and escorted her and her family here in a proper Grizzly M.A.T.T. of our own. We were charged with holding the front as the riots and attacks got worse and worse. Per the journos, anyone working for a Corp is “the enemy,” and “greedy capitalists.” Heavy weapons were few and far between, so there wasn’t much threat to us. We had scanners running 24/7 looking for high density e-packs, microfusion cells, explosives, anything really dangerous. Had to zap one or two, but for the most part it was water cannons and retch gas.”
“Then…maybe ninety minutes ago…they just started dropping. Everyone in full enviro was fine, anyone not, dropped in place. The LEOs out front died just like everyone else. Twenty minutes after that, Cyberian Bear mercs attacked us. They weren’t expecting Coyotes, and we had a merry slaughter before they fucked off. I’ve got one damaged suit but the operator is fine. It’s kinda fucked up, but…I actually preferred the rioting to the silence.”
“The more and more I work this over in my brain, the more there’s something nagging at the back of my skull, boss,” Nephilim said. “Widespread vomiting, collapse, depression of heartrate, depression of respiration, death. It screams nerve agent, but there’s no agent our filters can detect. This doesn’t fit weaponized bio weapon, and nanites would have shown up on our scanners. What else is there?”
“Drugs,” Ocelot interjected, and nine pairs of eyes turned to look at her, Now she was in a clean zone, she felt safe to remove her rebreather, revealing a distinctly feline face, long tawny hair with black stripes, and furred, pointed ears. “You know those Spetznaz types use all kinds of combat drugs to amp their capabilities. What if they deployed an offensive drug as well?”
“How do you drug an entire city all at once?” Keeso asked. “Water supply? Air bursting agent?”
Nephilim looked thoughtful for a moment. “Sure, either, both. Drugs would depend on potency, delivery method, and how quickly it’s metabolized. Crop duster, drone sprayer, air bursting charge for sure, any, all. Getting the potency right wouldn’t matter if the goal was a mass casualty attack, they’d just pile it on higher and deeper. I should have an answer shortly.”
“Good. In the meantime, Leftenant, we need to organize the extraction,” Bellerophon continued. “Our briefing suggested you had a dozen civilians and another dozen AE Security? The longer we’re on the ground, the sooner plans go to shit. Let’s call for extract.”
“Solid,” Keeso agreed. “Apex’s chief of security, Dan Wilson, can organize them, he’s integrated well with the Embassy staff.”
* * *
Hovering over a city collapsing into outright rebellion was nerve-wracking, since Pegasus was a big fat target, vulnerable to any asshole within a kilometer who had a laser. They’d found some survivors, so there were probably more. Ben Faolain carefully balanced the thrust against the crosswinds like he had one foot on a bowling ball, juggling chainsaws. One mistake could be disastrous. The ramp hinged from the rear of the lander, meaning the nose of the craft was well over the roof of the scraper. The rooftop aircar pad was far too small to land on, but made for a nice flat space to stage off of.
“Everyone’s aboard and strapped in,” Artemis confirmed over her comm as she hopped lightly off the ramp. “You’re good to go, Ben.”
The ramp lifted and sealed against the underbelly of Pegasus as Faolain drifted back from the building’s edge, rotated away from the building, and accelerated away. While in VTOL mode the turbines screamed, and every movement was careful and planned. Once Pegasus reached a certain velocity, the turbines rotated to gulp air like a normal jet.
Vice President Lauzon, Chief Wilson, Ambassador Mylette, and their assorted hangers-on had taken instruction very well. Being trapped on a planet in full civil war was bad. Watching the city die around them had been infinitely worse, and adequately motivated them to move with a sense of urgency once the order was given. AE had a store of full-seal enviro suits in their lab that would keep them alive when they transitioned from the megascraper to the lifter. They’d taken basic scrub-down materials aboard, and Ben would purge Pegasus’ cargo hold before anyone unsealed. They didn’t yet know what caused the urbicide and couldn’t risk contamination, either.
* * *
“Hey D—that look normal to you?” Kratos asked, pointing to a small self-shipping cargotainer, a meter cubed, sitting precariously near the rooftop edge. Six rotor-nacelles lined the upper edges of the ‘tainer, and two sides were open to the high-altitude breeze. Daedalus shook his head, and the four contractors cautiously approached the ‘tainer. It contained trace amounts of a white, crystalline substance that could have been table salt.
“No it does not,” Daedalus declared. “Neph, grab a sample. Our genie may have been right.”
“Myrmidons, this is Pegasus! Someone’s going for missile lock, watch for countermeasures and counterbattery!”
Pegasus dove for the deck and raced down the broad city streets, ducking back below the AA site’s radar coverage. The Myrmidons lost sight of their ride home, until it abruptly popped back up into view and spat plasma from a chin turret at a rooftop a klick away. It fell away again, but by then Nephilim and Artemis had found Pegasus’ target and shouldered their full-size gauss rifles. A series of follow-up shots from the rifles ensured all the hardware on the roof was destroyed, and Daedalus opened a commlink with Faolain again.
“You’re clear to boost for orbit, we’ll relocate for secondary pickup,” Daedalus said. “Not worth the risk to return here again.”
“Roger, boosting,” Faolain replied. Pegasus went vertical and the gravity drive kicked in, sparking blue lightning as the drive fought free of Montoya’s gravitational field.
“Now, what is this mystery ‘tainer?” Daedalus asked. “And what is that inside it?”
* * *
“Carfentanil, or an analogue of it,” Nephilim reported. “One of the deadliest, most underrated poisons known to man. That matches what I just got back from the test kit in Charlie—all the dead at PSG show acute opioid overdose.”
“I thought that was some kind of pain-killer medicine,” Kratos objected. “Poison?”
“With opioids, it’s all in the dosage,” Nephilim replied. “Addicts have been hooked on one form of poppy high or another for centuries, maybe even millennia. But it’s a central nervous system depressant, meaning it slows the heart and respiration. Take too much, and your brain forgets to tell your lungs to inhale. Heroin is three times more potent than morphine, and fentanyl is thirty times more potent than heroin. Carfentanil is a hundred times more potent than vanilla fentanyl ;it is lethal at the nanogram level. They literally can’t make it small enough that it won’t kill humans. Historically, it was a 20th and 21st century veterinarian’s anesthetic for massive mammals, like elephants or rhinos.”
We Dare Page 17
