The Last Charge of the 1st Legion (The Last Hero Trilogy Book 3)
Page 11
“I do need you, doctor.”
A voice spoke up behind her. “What about the legion?”
She put her hands on her hips. “Yes, what about the legion and fleet? You said they’re here and fighting our jailers. What the hell is going on? Give us the whole story. I want the big picture.”
He didn’t break eye contact. He needed her to see his sincerity. “Honestly, I don’t know the big picture anymore. This facility has been out of contact with anyone outside of the system for several months. At first it was a security protocol. Now it’s because there’s no sub-space link at the gate.” He shifted his gaze to others. “All I know is that the fleet fought and won a battle for control of the space around this planet. The legion has landed and is fighting a battle against our white-clad friends. It’s a battle our jailers are losin’.”
“And what happens when they’ve lost?”
“They will destroy this facility and everyone in it.” He paused to scan the faces staring intently at him. “They will activate the nuclear failsafe.”
A collective gasp filled the room.
Smut’s face turned bright red. “What?”
He pointed at the floor. “This facility is the most important installation in human space. It was never to be allowed to fall into anyone else’s hands. IS would rather see this place and all of its secrets, turned to glass.”
Smut opened her mouth as if preparing to yell, but closed it and vigorously rubbed her temples. “It sounds like we don’t have time to waste stating the obvious. Namely that you and your friends are a bunch of fucking lunatic morons.” She breathed deep and exhaled. “You don’t seem interested in dying here. So what’s your plan?”
An evil grin crept across his face. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”
***
Keeping his gaze locked on the command tent, York lit a fresh cigarette. The nicotine fortified his nerves. He wanted to rush the headquarters and kill Franks along with everyone else. That simplistic plan would’ve been suicide, though. Corps soldiers were elite warriors, fanatical killers. In a straight-up fight, his gang of lanky nerds had a snowball’s chance in hell of winning, let alone winning without most of them dying. He wouldn’t die for IS in this ready-made coffin and he didn’t plan on dying while stopping them, either.
He needed to wait for the right moment to execute his plan. Patience was a spy’s greatest virtue.
Smut pointed her sharp chin at the video feed of the elevator doors. They’d closed to ferry another group of soldiers and supplies to the surface. “How many does that make?”
“That’s their fifth trip this hour.” He exhaled a stream of smoke. “Things must not be going well at the surface.”
She rung her hands together. “Maybe we should accelerate our timetable?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Let them make a few more trips. You need to appreciate how deadly those men are. We’re only going to get one chance at this.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing.”
He chuckled. “Doctor, for the first time in quite a while, I’m finally doing something I do know.”
She tilted her head at him. “I believe you.”
Two hours later, the command post was down to a skeleton crew of two guards outside and staff inside.
York inhaled the final bit of his smoke. Dropping it to the floor, he snuffed it out under his heel. “You ready for this, doctor?”
Her arms fell to her side. “No, but let’s not let that stop us.”
“Grab your stuff and let’s do it, then.” He turned to Natalie Woods. “You ready? Everyone in place?”
“Yes and yes.” She grinned, dancing from side to side.
She’s so stupid she thinks this is fun. Let’s see if you still think this is an adventure once we’re inside that tent and the shit hits the fan.
Woods and Smut flanked him as they approached the entrance. The three walked tall with broad strides. The guards stood like statues until they were a meter away.
The black guard held out a hand. “The general is busy.”
York glowed with pride. “Oh, I think he’ll want to make time for this.” He gestured toward Smut. “The doctor here has made a major breakthrough. Tell the general that the inner chamber has revealed its secrets and I believe it can be of use in the present situation. I’ve briefed them both on the crisis and they want to help.”
The guards shared a glance and the white one shrugged. “I’ll call it in. Wait here.”
York pretended to act like he could barely contain himself with joy. A minute ticked by before anything happened.
“He’ll see you. It better be good.”
“Oh, it is!”
The two command staff present were too busy to look up from their screens to see them glide through on their way to the general’s office. Spreading the partition flaps, they found Franks buried in a trio of screens. Light reflected off his face.
York led them in. “How goes the battle?”
Franks sighed. “If my trap had worked in the beginning, it’d already be over. We had to spring it earlier than I wanted.” He looked up. “What do you have for me? It better be good, given your breach of security.”
“Dr. Smut here has something I’m sure you’ll love, general.”
Smut raised a tablet, begging Franks to walk around to get it. They needed to get him away from his control station. The failsafe couldn’t be activated remotely.
York gestured to her. “Based on preliminary analysis, I believe her find is in relation to a weapons system or a military depot of some kind. I also believe that whatever it is, it’s still intact and may be useable.”
Franks left eyebrow lifted and he stood straight.
Come on, come on. Come to me, dammit! He checked his internal timer. Only thirty seconds until phase two began.
Franks rubbed his chin. “What kind of weapons?”
Smut swiped the screen as if she was scrolling through images. “I am not sure, but it’s hard for me to tell. I’m not a soldier like you.” She held the tablet out.
Fifteen seconds.
He eyed the device and took that first critical step to walk around the table to receive the information.
Ten seconds.
He took it into his hands. “Where is this cache located? Can we access it from this chamber?”
Five seconds.
Sweat rolled down her face. She cleared her throat. “I believe so.”
He studied the diagram and cocked his head. “I don’t understand. This looks like...”
One!
Boom!
An explosion outside rocked the tent. Alarms blared.
“What the hell!” Franks’ eyes darted to York.
The tablet Franks held made a loud pop sound and went dark.
Woods and Smut ran out of the office to direct the staff to attend to the explosion.
York attacked, thrusting a small knife toward Franks’ throat, but the latter deflected the strike and slammed the tablet into York’s head. The blow staggered York backward.
“What are you doing?” Franks’ face went slack. “You took out my nanos. How?”
York regained his footing and changed his knife grip, pointing the blade down. “Spy trick. That tablet discharged a micro-localized EMP burst.” He maneuvered to cut him off from the control panels.
Franks took a battle pose. “What turned you?”
“I’m not dying here.”
“That easy, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Well, I’m sorry to tell you this, but you’re still going to die here.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Franks threw the bent tablet at him and charged. Ducking, he avoided the crude weapon as he slashed the edge across his front, where it grazed Franks’ forearm. Ignoring the minor wound, Franks pushed in to deliver a punch to the chest.
The air rushed from York’s lungs as he stumbled into the tent’s soft wall. Franks’ strength and speed surprised him. T
he EMP had destroyed most of his nanos, which should’ve zapped his enhanced abilities. His own tiny friends were still alive. He’d hoped that would’ve made this an easy fight. Something was wrong.
The combatants circled one another barely a meter apart.
“What did they do to you?” York scanned him from head to toe. “You should be slow and weak. You shouldn’t have enough nanos left for anything special.”
Franks laughed and shook his head. “You think you know everything. My men and I were made to be better than anyone else. You of all people should’ve predicted that.”
His mind spun for an answer. “Genetic engineering.”
“Nothing to it, once you decide to ignore a couple hundred years of law and social sigma.”
York hated fair fights. He only liked to play when he knew he was going to win. This easy win had turned into a life-and-death struggle.
With a high kick, Franks knocked the knife from York’s hand and darted in close, hammering York with body blows. York yelped as ribs cracked. Driving his elbow into Franks’ back, he was able to retreat.
“It’s...over.” York gulped air. “Your supermen have been defeated. This is pointless.”
Franks gritted his teeth. “It’s not over! I can still keep this facility from falling into the wrong hands.”
Franks came at him. This time, York was ready. Leaning to the side, he avoided a right hook as he drove a knee into his attacker’s gut. In one fluid motion, York gripped the back of Franks’ uniform and tossed him forward, where he crashed head-first into a stack of boxes.
York searched for the knife. It wasn’t in sight. “I need some help in here!” he called out on the com-link.
Franks charged, tackling York to the ground. There was no getting away. Their arms tangled as they struggled for position. Rolling from side to side, they collapsed tables and smashed into equipment. Locked in their intimate death embrace, survival was all either of them cared about.
Heavier and stronger, Franks wore down York, who found himself in a headlock. It took York everything he had to keep his neck from snapping. His resolve hadn’t weakened. He didn’t want to die here, now more than ever. His strength was leaving him, though. The pressure was building on his spine, and soon it would give.
Just before the vertebrae began to crack, the force wrapped around his throat vanished.
Through a coughing fit, he crawled away on his hands and knees.
“Are you okay?” Woods ran her hands across his body, looking for injuries.
“Y...yes,” he choked out, rubbing his throat.
She helped him to his feet and tried to embrace him, but he pushed her away. He looked on the floor behind him. Franks was on his side, blood pooled under his head where a knife stuck straight out.
York pointed at the gruesome scene. “Did you do this?”
“No.” She wiped a tear away.
He turned toward the entrance. Two men, research assistants, stood there holding the MRGs York had supplied from his emergency weapons supply. They were legion vets.
“The ambush worked, I take it?”
Ian Turnbull, a tall man of Indian descent, patted his rifle. “Yes, sir. There were only four of them, and the fire had them distracted.”
“Good, good.” He sat down in a chair Woods found him. “Let’s get this communications equipment up and running. We need to contact the legion.”
He looked back at Franks. I told you I wasn’t going to die here.
Chapter Seventeen
Unlikely Allies
The bloodiest battle in his career was over, and Trent’s people had won. It didn’t feel that way to him, though. Too many had died, including one close to him. The great cost had soured the taste of victory. Nor had it bought him total success. His reward was a stalemate.
The First Legion was strung out on the canyon’s edge. They stared at the enemy and the enemy stared right back at them. Neither possessed the strength to cross the deep trench separating them.
The canyon floor was a different story; it appeared lightly guarded. He was hoping to slip small groups down the rocky wall several kilometers to the east and west. They’d advance on the target’s entrance as the main force covered them. It would be a hard fight for those sent down, but he didn’t see any other choice.
He was studying detailed scans of the canyon floor when Amanda opened a channel. “General, you might want to see this.”
“What is it?”
“You’d better see it for yourself. I’ve highlighted my position.”
He sighed. “Okay. On my way.”
The area around the command tent buzzed with activity. Ammo depots were being set up and field hospitals erected. The legion was getting ready for a drawn-out fight.
Weaving his way through the organized mass of men and equipment, he made his way to where Amanda was in the rear, watching a group of techs comb over a dead Kraken. Its gray hull was blackened and cracked open at the mid-section, but its six arms were intact. The beast was an impressive machine of war with three times the firepower of a Super Heavy.
Thank God we met these things on rough ground. They’d have massacred us on an open plain.
No one noticed him approach. “What do you have for me?” Startled techs hurried to stand at attention. “As you were.” Three of the four techs returned their attention to the machine. One walked toward him.
“General, this is Captain Raul Pike.” Amanda tipped her head at him. “He’s been leading the analysis of the captured enemy hardware. They’ve found something interesting.”
“What do you have for me, captain?”
Pike raised a tablet to tap on it. “I’m sending you our initial findings. They certainly are intriguing. The Kraken’s operating systems are virtually identical to our Super Heavy’s. The machine-brain merge interface is what makes both weapons systems so effective, but it’s also what limits our supers to two upper body limbs. Our heads weren’t designed to have more than two. We can’t control more efficiently.”
Trent hooked his thumbs in his belt and jerked his head at the wreckage. “They seemed to wield all of them pretty damn efficiently.”
“I know.” Pike turned and waved his hand forward. “Come and take a look at this.”
Trent squatted and looked into the open chest section. The driver’s dead eyes stared back at him. It had been a long time since he’d seen the eyes of a dead human opponent. It felt wrong, unnatural. Men shouldn’t be fighting each other in a multi-species universe. The upper half of man’s skull was cut away. “Did you do that, captain.” He pointed a sharp finger at the mutilated corpse. “These are still human dead and I expect them to be treated with a measure of respect.”
Pike’s head whipped around. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t think about it. I was just trying to gather as much intel as I could.”
He nodded and waved off his remark. “Yes. My apologies, captain. This whole situation has me on edge. I thought we were past this infighting crap. You’re doing your job and I appreciate it. Please continue.”
“Understandable, sir. I got caught up in the science of it all and lost track of the human element.” He turned back to the body and ran a finger along the length of the brain. “On the surface, nothing might look out of the ordinary, but our med scans show this brain is very different. It’s wired … funny. I can’t say with a hundred percent certainty, but I believe this brain was reconfigured to allow a person to operate like they had six arms.”
Trent cocked his head. “What do you mean reconfigured? Some kind of nano surgery.”
Pike shook his head. “These extra pathways aren’t built, they were grown. And that’s not all the surprises this guy has. I checked the rest of him out. There’s more muscle mass then you’d expect to find in a man his size, more red blood cells and … more beyond that.”
Trent stood. “Cut to the chase, captain. What are you trying to tell me?”
“Genetics.” Pike rose. “Genetic engineering.”
“Fair point, sir. As you just pointed out, this research has been banned for generations. You can’t simply whip up this level of engineering overnight. Whoever did this has been working on it for some time.”
Trent turned, taking in the battlefield littered with the fallen. “Why, captain? Why go through all of the trouble to do this? That’s what I want to know. This is helpful information. Complete a thorough report as soon as you can and send it around. Keep up the good work.”
“Consider it done, sir.”
Trent walked to the command tent and Amanda came to his side. “Has Simms taken a look at any of the enemy tech? I’d like to hear what he has to say.”
She cleared her throat. “Ummm...I’ve been meaning to talk to you about him. I think you’d better have a talk with him, Trent. He’s taking Jane’s death really hard. I’m worried about him.”
He stopped and sighed. “Damn, Jane. I’m gonna miss her.”
“Me too.” She took his hand.
“Where is he?”
***
Trent found Simms by himself atop the hill where Jane had died. Her body had been policed and transported up to the task force with the others, but the area still had the feeling of a battlefield. It was as though the souls of the slain lingered, their aura or energy charging the landscape.
Simms was staring off into the bleak horizon. His CAL would’ve notified him of his commanding officer’s presence, but he remained like carved stone as Trent approached from behind, coming alongside, without saying a word, to share the view. The sun had reached its zenith, its rays fighting to break through the gray clouds.
Trent would’ve liked to give his friend all the time he required. This was a war zone, however, and Trent needed his acting-cohort commander to snap out of it. Too much was at stake.