Echoes: The Ten Sigma Series Book 3

by A W Wang

  I can’t let him return to the battle or allow him to use his missiles to blanket the area. I roll from cover and rise into a dead sprint as the accelerating mecha crosses my path.

  Someone from Cat’s team with the short curly hair stands, aiming his rocket. Jinn wipes him out with a cannon burst. Then he stops and swivels the machine to the canyon. As missiles shriek away, the speaker says, “Goodbye Vic.”

  The pause gives me time to catch up and, thankful that Jinn doesn’t have infantry support, I leap onto the back engine cowling and pull myself onto the chassis.

  While detonations shred the lip of the canyon into sprays of pebbles and clouds of dust, I climb on top of the capsule. With my gear lying in the horseshoe, I have few options to hurt the beast. Or kill Jinn.

  The mecha twists back to the main fight and pours a stream of cannon rounds at Tom, who is waving his hands to attract Jinn’s attention. As he dives behind some rocky cover, a rocket streaks from the other side and explodes, sending a fireball through him.

  While burning debris and chunks of gore land around me, I yank out my knife in desperation. I grab hold and wedge the point into the seal of the retractable roof of the cockpit, trying to create enough of a gap for my rifle.

  Jinn glances up, catching my gaze through the thick glass. His eyes widen, and the mecha bucks.

  I slip, barely hanging onto the knife handle, my other hand grabbing the window frame.

  “You were right. This is a really desperate idea.”

  While the machine gyrates, struggling to toss me off, I grit my teeth and use my exhausted arms to pull myself back up.

  Thankfully, the weight of my fall has opened a crack in the entry seal.

  The cockpit twists with violence, and I almost lose my grip.

  I shove one last time, bending the knife to widen the slim opening.

  As the mecha rocks to the other side, I unsling my rifle with one hand while holding on for dear life with the other. I’m sure Jinn would love for me to tumble onto the ground, so he could stomp me into a bright red smear.

  He stops short, and I grab the recessed edge of the side window. My legs slip and fly into the air as the capsule swivels and the machine charges forward.

  In desperation, I shove the rifle higher, just catching the tip of the barrel next to the knife. I hold down the trigger and pellets fly, ricocheting off the inside of the windshield and into the controls.

  Sparks flash, and the wild bucking grinds to a halt.

  While smoke escapes from the open seal, I eject the spent magazine and slam in a reload.

  Jinn looks up with terrified eyes as I shove the muzzle into the opening.

  “No, Vic, don’t,” he screams.

  I empty the weapon.

  Blood splatters over windows as the sanctimonious scumbag jerks from dozens of crisscrossing hypervelocity pellets shredding his flesh. The mecha stumbles and crashes into the lip of the horseshoe as his lifeless body slumps forward.

  An electrical fire starts under the engine cowling.

  I jump and sprint from the dying machine. The fuel flares an instant later, and a blast of heat slams me into a crater.

  Exhausted and covered in dust, I lift my head and survey the battlefield.

  In the distance beyond Jinn’s funeral pyre, the final enemy also lies as a pile of scrap.

  Still gulping breaths, I crawl from cover and plop myself at the foot of a nearby mound, waiting for the other battered and bruised survivors to converge on my position.

  Genuine happiness rises within me when Jill and Layla as well as Ty and Talon come into view. One other person from Cat’s team has made it, who I think is called Jay.

  As the group nears, Layla and Jay exchange glances. Rocks shift behind me.

  I turn.

  Cat stands with her rifle held at her hip and pointed at my chest.

  “Vic, it’s time we ended this,” she says in a sad voice.

  Fifty-Seven

  I straighten, realizing my rifle is empty. In order to forestall anything hasty, I hold my palms in front of my chest. “This is how you want to finish it?”

  Although the tension borders on unbearable, nobody makes a threatening gesture.

  “No,” Cat says with measured calm, “but at some point, this needs to end.”

  “Drop it,” Mouse says from nearby. Glances flick to the edge of the horseshoe, where the small girl stands, rifle at the ready.

  Unsurprised by her stealthiness, I say, “Sorry, Cat. We were waiting for this too. Now, let’s figure something out.”

  Cat’s eyes waver.

  A flash erupts and explosions thunder.

  Everyone flies into motion, jerking weapons at each other.

  With the useless realization that the missile pods from Jinn’s mecha just cooked off from the fire, I dive to the side.

  People scatter while hypervelocity rifles crack. Metal pellets zip between the teams.

  Glimpses of the fight come into view as I roll, fumbling for a fresh magazine. Jay swiveling and firing. Ty blasting away with gritted teeth. Red blossoms across Layla’s chest even as her rifle blazes away. Talon lying on the ground, her face gone. Jill scrambling over to stop her friend and our enemy Layla from bleeding out.

  An eternity passes before I finish reloading.

  A dark form blocks the sunlight.

  I shield my eyes.

  It’s Cat.

  Her lips tighten, but the shot doesn’t come.

  A sharp crack breaks the frozen moment, and the front of her torso explodes. Blood splatters over my face.

  With a groan, she falls and slides down the slope.

  Ty appears, gun ready.

  “Stop,” I scream, twisting my body to prevent her from getting hit again.

  “I’m sorry, Vic,” Ty says, his voice breaking. “She was going to kill you. I had to do it.”

  When Cat rolls over, I cradle her head.

  She coughs blood. “Bad, isn’t it?”

  Tears fill my eyes as I nod. “I was kind of hoping that one time when you put on a new uniform, the trim would have turned orange.”

  “You silly, stupid man. This is the Ten Sigma Program. It’s not about having a happily ever after.”

  “Were you going to shoot?”

  “Why would I have to shoot when I’ve got a knife?”

  I glance down.

  A knife rests in her bloody hand, the tip digging into my rib cage. However, instead of punching it into me, she gives a last smile. “Thanks for not slapping my face to keep me awake.”

  The blade falls into the dust as the life leaves her eyes.

  Gripping her harder, I plead, “No. No!”

  “Vic,” Ty says.

  Still holding Cat and fighting a flood of muddled, disbelieving emotions, I shake my head, refusing to look at him or accept the situation. Currents of anger run through my sadness. A long moment passes before I realize the fury is directed toward the woman with the red mane. Without her, I would still be happy with Cat in our made-up world.

  A rough hand grabs my shoulder.

  I glare at Ty. “What?”

  “Vic, I’m sorry. I understand why you felt so strongly for her, and I feel that way for the team, that’s why I protected you. We have to leave, right now.”

  “Why?” I say, knowing there are a million good reasons for doing so.

  “Mouse is hit, and she’s bleeding out. We have to get her to the medical pod in the next tram.”

  The thought of another lost teammate pulls me from my misery.

  Around the nearby area, Jill and Ty are the only ones standing. Mouse is alive but barely. Everybody else is dead.

  I gently set Cat on the ground, sorry for not being able to give her a proper burial and more sorry about the way we entered this campaign. I think of the stories we crafted, preferring to remember her as the girl from the wrong side of the tracks with the blue streaks in her hair rather than the reality which ended our relationship.

  The T
en Sigma Program brings out the worst in everyone.

  I take a deep breath, blinking moisture from my eyes. There’s no more time for sorrow.

  Only anger.

  The woman with the red mane had better be worth it.

  The endless beiges and browns of the canyon ring fly past as I run for all I’m worth, cradling a dying Mouse in my arms.

  Except for a rocket and a rifle thudding into my back with each wearying step, all my heavy gear has been abandoned. Only a few extra magazines and Cat’s knife strapped around my thigh complete the minimum load that could be carried for speed while being able to deal with any potential threat from this accursed place.

  Similarly armed, Ty and Jill run next to me.

  In front, the volcano looms close enough to see the ugly black soot spewing from its wide crown and the trails of lava flowing down its steep slopes. From this vantage point, the damn thing looks larger than anything imaginable.

  “Vic,” Ty yells.

  Winded but somehow still moving, I croak, “What?”

  “You’re flagging. Let me carry her.”

  When he runs to my side, I don’t resist as he takes Mouse’s listless form. I put my head down and plow ahead, focusing on not tripping and unsure if I have the energy left to get back up if I do.

  After another kilometer, I get a second wind and hit the red circle at a dead sprint. Jill and I reach the door at the same time, heaving for breath.

  As soon as an exhausted Ty joins us, the doors open.

  I take Mouse and charge inside.

  The round building is empty. There are no stairs, no upper floor, and most importantly, no waiting tram with a cure-all pod.

  Bewildered, I stare at the high ceiling.

  “What the hell is going on?” Ty says.

  Jill squeezes my arm. “Whatever’s happening, we have to do something. Mouse won’t last much longer.”

  The doors shut, and golden sparkles crawl over our bodies. A moment later, the yellow walls of the way station vanish.

  Fifty-Eight

  After the golden sparkles fade, a hot breath of sulfur spills over my face. Heat seeps into my boots, and I shift from discomfort.

  We’re on the volcano.

  In front sits a black band of gravel which, after a hundred meters, yields to a steepening slope of browns and blacks. Glowing streams of lava carve the inhospitable ground into a mosaic of islands, which march up and into a foreboding crown of dark haze. Beyond that, only the overlords know where the journey ends.

  Probably somewhere in the heavens.

  Jill and Ty stand nearby, looking exactly like they did entering the way station—dusty and haggard with the same rips in their unitards and the same weapons.

  And the same body state…

  Mouse twitches in my arms.

  Furious with the overlords, I scowl. This final challenge has no resupply or first aid.

  The voice of the witch echoes. “The way stations offer the only means to get to the next circle. Also, each tram has a weapons resupply and first aid.”

  But not every way station has a tram.

  “She’s almost gone,” I say in a quiet voice.

  Jill stares with a hopeless expression.

  “What can we do?” Ty says angrily.

  I lift my eyes to the dark cloud and say with defiance, “We go up there and win as fast as we can.”

  A small voice says, “I’ll never make it.”

  When I glance at Mouse, she shifts her gaze downslope and says, “What an amazing sight.”

  A sense of vertigo touches me when I turn.

  Because of the flatness of the map, the view stretches over the entirety of our long, impossible journey.

  Past the lip of the black field, lava cascades down the dark slope of the volcano, which dips far below until meeting the beauty of the canyon circle. Hazy beyond the crisscrossing maze of gorges and ravines lie the skylines of the towns and cities, twinkling in the mid-morning sunlight. Further away sit the distinct colors of the outer circles—white, beige, and green—until the land yields to the blue smear of the ocean, where everything started on that island.

  “Thanks for getting me this far,” Mouse whispers. A moment later, she shudders, and a last sigh leaves her lips.

  Unsure of what to do, I set her on the heated ground. After some reflection, I remove my thermal cloak and position it under her head, so her sightless eyes can gather in the entirety of the campaign.

  Ty kicks at the black gravel. “What now?”

  I fill myself with a breath of hot, smelly air and accept the harsh nature of the Ten Sigma Program.

  “We get the hell out of this place,” I say, wiping my hands on my legs and standing.

  A grim smile replaces the sadness on Jill’s face, and Ty nods with determination.

  Veterans of many combats and dead teammates, we set aside our emotions and check our weapons. After Jill and Ty dump their cloaks, we step as one onto the field of black and march toward our destiny.

  Although the next minute is uneventful, the awful conditions leech a little moisture from our throats and sap a little strength from our muscles with each scrunch of our boots.

  A small sampling of what’s coming.

  As we near the end of the field, Jill jerks up her rifle and drops to a knee. “Movement.”

  My stomach clenches as I dive to the gravel.

  Pellets zip down the mountainside and shatter in front of us, causing cracks in the air but no injuries.

  “This place is a safe zone,” Ty says, watching the damage to the invisible wall fade.

  I push myself off the hot surface. “Good thing the overlords have a sense of fair play.”

  Ty nods. Out in the open, we’d be dead to whoever was shooting.

  “About three-quarters of the way up. They’re a 3.5 group,” Jill says.

  I blow out a breath. “That means they started with ten but faced more than we did to get here. Hopefully, that chewed them up, and we’re only dealing with the leftovers.”

  Ty stands and cups his hand over his eyes. “Looks like only three of them, but they’ve got the high ground. It’s going to be rough.”

  As if to confirm the thought, the volcano belches and a loose rain of ash falls over the area.

  I crane my head and wipe black specks from my face, studying the details of our last battlefield. The rocky surface marches upward in a series of waves, forming four sloped terraces. A ten-meter wide lava river marks a hard boundary on the left, while a smaller channel wanders down the center. A haze hangs over the final molten stream on the right, which splits into many branches until they, like the other flows, tuck under the black field beneath our feet.

  In between, a variety of features—dimples, boulders, outcroppings, and vents spewing gray and black gases—dot the slope.

  Besides those things, a single path, with small footbridges to cross the lava, meanders upward and to incandescent lines cut into the boundary wall.

  Our ultimate destination.

  The landscape looks far more imposing than when I did the flyover with the witch.

  I shake my head. An eternity has passed since then.

  Ty tugs his beard and says, “The path is a death trap. Heading up the sides is going to be tough, especially receiving fire.”

  Jill glances at me. “Got any other tricks or secret passages?”

  “No,” I reply. “There won’t be any repetition to get us through this one. We’ll have to win the old-fashioned way.”

  “Good, that’s how it should be,” Ty says.

  I nod. No cheats. This battle will be decided by who knows how to kill the best.

  Jill shifts her feet. “Well, we didn’t come all this way to just stand around.”

  Ty snorts while I smile grimly.

  Getting to the woman with the red mane was never going to be easy.

  “Okay, do-or-die time,” I say. “We’re better than these guys. Let’s attack on a wide front. I’ll move up the ri
ght, while you both work along the edges of those other lava streams. Two provide cover while one advances, and we march our way up and kill them.”

  When nobody objects to the simple strategy, I wait while Ty and Jill follow the curve of the air wall and get to their positions.

  After they signal readiness with Jill in the center and Ty on the far left, I rush toward the boundary. Even before I leave the gravel, pellets smash into the invisible barrier, creating fleeting cracks that resemble misshapen spiderwebs. I swerve and exit the sanctuary, sprinting toward a set of rocks ten meters away.

  Chips spray from the ground and shots slam into the invisible wall behind me.

  The short but scary jaunt only lasts a second, and I flop from view unharmed, although my heart hammers against my rib cage.

  Both Ty and Jill wave.

  I dash from cover. Suppressing fire pops into pebbles and rocks near the lip of the highest ridge.

  Only scattered shots are returned.

  Fifty meters later, I jam behind one of the many boulders carelessly tossed onto the incline, greedily sucking down breaths fouled by a vent spewing hot, smelly gas.

  No time to be picky.

  When I motion, Ty and I provide covering fire as Jill runs up the center. A fearful moment happens when she slips on a slick patch of ash, but she arrives parallel to me without harm. After Ty finishes his run, my turn comes again.

  Happy to get away from the stench, I charge another fifty meters higher. After cutting over a shallow channel cradling a rivulet of lava, I settle behind a larger set of rocks, far from anything venting foul odors.

  The leapfrogging continues until we’re within two hundred meters of the enemy. Over the course of the advance, the enemy’s return fire becomes ragged. One of the three only puts up a sporadic defense. He’s most likely wounded, and like us, they probably thought there would be a final tram with resupply and first aid after the canyons.

  Ty unlimbers his rocket launcher. A whoosh comes, and a white contrail leaves the long cylinder, speeding up the mountainside. When the ground steepens, the rocket impacts, and the fireball plows through the nook where the wounded one is hiding.