The clang of the lift alerted him to its approach moments before its hatch parted and the rectangular car rose up. The doors faced away from the shed and anyone leaving the lift wouldn’t see them right away, which gave them at least a few moments of surprise. He dropped to one knee in preparation and aimed his rifle in the box’s direction.
A group of five Greeba emerged from the lift and headed out towards the tower’s edge. Behind them a female Brogh strode out, her three-jointed legs taking long strides. She paused after a few steps, and turned her helmet-shrouded head in their direction.
“You!” she shouted in Solan and moved to raise the long rifle in her hand.
“You gotta be kidding me,” he murmured, but shook off his surprise and pulled the trigger. His rifle kicked, sending a supersonic round right through the Brogh’s neck. She stumbled back, then was put down with a burst from Armstrong’s weapon. The Greeba behind her spun around and were likewise taken down by rounds from both of them. Only a few managed to fire, sending blue streaks from plasma-infused bolts passed them into the sky beyond.
“Khepria, hurry,” Nero said over his shoulder. When he didn’t hear her reply he looked back and saw both her and Mamiya standing by the box with their eyes closed.
He turned back and his eyes widened. The Brogh he shot was racing towards him, using her long, three-jointed legs to cover the distance faster than he could get his rifle to bear. She slammed into him in a spray of blue blood, bringing them both down to the ground. The impact knocked the wind from his lungs and he felt the rifle fall away from his hand as they slid back along the grated roof. Her weight pressed him down while she struck at him from the side with her armored elbow. Each impact sent sparks through his vision.
“I told you we would have this fight,” she said in a spray of blood across his face. “You will die human!”
He twisted, trying to get his free arm up to defend himself. The other was pinned beneath her knee and useless. He struck at her side, his fist sending bolts of pain up to his brain with every bare-knuckled impact on her armored ribs. They hammered at each other, neither giving any ground. His vision blurred and his blows weakened with every strike she made against his skull. It was only because of his carbon-reinforced skeleton that he was even still alive under the brutal assault.
A shot rang out and the beating stopped. The Brogh’s four-pointed eyes looked confused for a moment, and his vision cleared enough to see that a new bullet hole had appeared in her armor where he was punching her.
“No,” she whispered, and almost gently grasped him about his neck with one hand. Her forearm vibrated, and his body exploded in pain, convulsing like a fish out of water. Vaguely he wondered what was going on as arcs of blue-white electricity flew away from the Brogh’s forearms, covering them both and leaving rainbow-fringed burns in his vision. He heard several more shots, and felt the Brogh’s body fall away. He blinked, trying to clear his sight as the razor-sharp pain faded into a dull, tingling ache through his body.
“I told you, they’re born killers.” Armstrong’s armored hand came down and he took it, letting her pull him up to his feet as his vision cleared.
“What the hell?” Nero coughed.
“Broghs have electrical organs in their arms,” Armstrong said.
“Thanks for the warning.” He shook his head, and stumbled. If not for her arm around him he would have fallen. He gave her a nod of thanks.
Nero moved around to the lift once he was steady enough, aimed, and fired at the spot where the control panel was in its interior. A satisfying spray of sparks showered the floor. The Commander Armstrong came around the other side of the car a moment later.
“Any chance there’s more than one way up here?” His head was pounding, and he looked like a beaten man in Armstrong’s reflective faceplate.
“How would I know?”
He shrugged and froze in place as he felt a strange tingle at the base of his skull.
Reboot initiated, sounded in his thoughts. The voice sent a chill down his spine.
“My armor sensors aren’ detectin’ any other hatches,” Armstrong said.
Had he imagined the voice? He waited a moment, but nothing else came. He scowled, thinking it best to refocus on the mission and not let himself be distracted. It wouldn’t make sense to have a lift be the only way up. He looked around, his eyes traveled over the dead bodies of the Broghite troops and scanned to the edge of the roof. He spotted two dark projections sticking up over the rim and moved towards them trying to figure out what they were. They were metal, but were too short to be antennae. They resembled small pipes, were too flat. He was mystified by them until he got within two steps and saw the first rung connecting them together. It was one of the ladders he spotted covering the tower earlier. In the chaos of their ascent he forgot they existed. Nero rushed to the edge and looked down.
A line of Greeba were exiting a door a few floors down and starting the climb up. The on in the lead gazed at him with huge, yellow eyes. A toothy grin broke out on the wide mouth below them, and it raised its carbine. He ducked back just as the blue streak of the passing bolt shot by. He held his rifle over the ladder, and fired down without looking.
“Incoming!” he shouted to Armstrong.
She started heading towards him, but he held up his hand and pointed at the side of the roof close to her where he spied the top of another ladder. A Greeba head popped up above it followed by the barrel of its carbine. She whirled and shot, blowing the top off its helmet and sending the short, decapitated body flying from the building.
He turned back to his side, sending another Greeba cresting the last rung off the building in a hail of bullets. Another took his place. He shot that one and another appeared, and another behind that. It wasn’t long before he was backing up and shooting, hoping his ammo held out against what was becoming an onslaught of furry, fang-toothed creatures besieging the rooftop.
“Khepria!” He shouted and ran over to stand beside the shed, hammering the Greeba encroaching on their position. “We gotta go!”
Several clusters of the enemy established themselves despite their best efforts. Worse, they’d discovered that half the roof was undefended, and a steady stream of them poured over the edges. He grabbed Agent Khepria and pulled her down to the ground on the side of the shed opposite the encroaching Greeba. Doing the same for Mamiya, he switched his rifle to full automatic and laid into the enemy, dropping whole lines of them at a time.
“Sorina!”
“Almost there,” she said in slurred words.
“Gotta get there now.” He looked over at where Armstrong should have been, seeing only an a swarm of Greeba busy with something between them. They weren’t shooting, but were engaged in some kind of furious activity with their arms. A few of them had torn off their helmets and were trying to get in on the center of the action.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” he chanted.
A piece of gray armor with red stripes on it went flying out of the mob. He stared at it until it registered that the object was Armstrong’s pauldron. It was then he remembered what Garghth said about the Greeba being cannibals. His eyes grew wide and he fired into the group rising up to advance, but was forced to duck when a round exploded against the shed near his head and dissolved part of its housing.
Error: Unable to connect to network, whispered in Nero’s mind. Loading local backup. He froze, confused for a moment before another piece of armor flew out of the seething mob.
He had to act. Armstrong’s life depended on it. Nero advanced, holding down the trigger on his weapon as he swept it back and forth. His rifle roared and Greeba fell in droves, but though he had their attention, the horde seemed without end. More swarmed up over the lip of the roof as he pressed forward. He jerked his weapon over towards the new arrivals when it bucked, and clicked. Its deafening thunder lapsed into silence in his hands.
The mass of drooling, fanged troops paused. Big, yellow eyes swiveled around as if they couldn’t believe
they were no longer under fire.
Nero gritted his teeth, shook his head, and stood up. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
The mass of Greeba turned their oversized eyes to him. The first of them threw his carbine to the ground, and took a step towards the shed with his mouth open like he was seeing food for the first time in a week. The rest began to follow, their feet shuffling along the grate with increasing furor—and slowed down to a crawl as though the air around them had just been turned into thick jelly.
Nero, mind telling me what the hell is going on? Prospero’s voice said into his thoughts. On second thought, we can talk about it afterwards. Get us out of this mess, Nero. Combat mode initiated.
A grin formed on his lips as strength surged through his body, chasing out all traces of pain and exhaustion. His freshly altered perception gave him all the time he needed to wait for the first Greeba to close into perfect range, then he swung his fist with his enhanced might at its temple. Both the helmet and the skull beneath it collapsed and exploded on impact as though a bomb had gone off inside the thing’s skull. The dark blood was still flying through the air when he sidestepped it and did the same to the second, and the third, and the forth after. His world became a whirlwind of kicks and punches as he danced through them sending their gore in all directions as he worked his way over to Armstrong.
Batting away small armored bodies like they were children’s toys, he spotted the bloodied and torn body of the mercenary commander. Her wounds were as bad as he’d ever seen, but there was no time to contemplate them. Grabbing her arm, he swung her up onto his shoulder and started back towards the shed, still kicking and punching with punishing force.
Greeba went flying, their bodies broken and mutilated as they landed and skittered back across the roof. He thrust his limbs forward, to the side and back over and over again until his knuckles were red and the exhaustion was pressing in on him even through Prospero’s shunt, but still they came on, an unending tidal wave of hungry teeth and eyes.
He stumbled back, panting hard with his back against the shed. Prospero switched his time perception back to normal and he dropped Armstrong’s body to the ground beside him.
Nero, gently! By the will, man! Prospero shouted.
“I can’t,” he panted, looking out at the piles of bodies before him and the Greeba coming over them. Was there no end to them? Some paused to snack on their dead, but not enough to slow the seething wave of hungry mouths. He supposed it didn’t matter. In moments it would be over despite his best efforts.
The line of Greeba advanced—and disintegrated in an explosion that took them and the roof beneath their feet in a flash that left spots in his vision. Squinting, he watched as the Akanda rose up like a massive bird over the rim of the tower. Its engines roared and turrets swiveled, pouring fourth death on the troops around them. Whole sections of the tower fell away as it spilled megawatts of x-ray laser beams into the bodies of their enemies.
Khepria and Mamiya opened their eyes.
“I got blocked out at the last—” she stopped, staring at the carnage around her.
I’ll take it from here, Agent Khepria, Prospero said down their link.
Her ears vibrated and she clasped her hands before her chest, wearing an expression of shock. “Is that him?”
“It is, but we need to go,” Nero responded.
She nodded.
Free of the relentless pressure of the attack, Nero took the char-laced air deep into his lungs. He watched as his ship swerved to the side, dropping its landing ramp down on what remained of the roof while its hundred-meter-long body hovered in the air.
Mamiya helped her with Armstrong as they scaled the ramp into the cargo hold. Nero was the last aboard, staggering up to where Setha awaited them.
“The baron is wounded,” she said when the ramp closed behind them.
“So is Commander Armstrong.” Nero looked around, spotting Mitsugawa’s body lying on the deck plates beside Tengu in the space that was once occupied by his air car. Mamiya rushed over, scanning his master with his multi-faceted eyes.
Setha looked at Nero. “Are we ready?”
“Hell, yes. Prospero, get us out of here.”
Setha held up her hand. “I’ll do it.”
Her eyes flared, the light so intense the flesh below them turned greenish-red, turning her veins into a dark web across her face. There was a wrenching sensation, and then they were in freefall. Nero grabbed for the railing that lined the sealed cargo ramp as he floated up off the deck. He shook his head, utterly bewildered at what just happened.
“What the hell?”
“We are here,” Setha said, sounding exhausted. Her eyes were dim, pulsing like green embers. The flesh around them was puffy and red.
Nero, please explain to me what is going on. The last record I can access involves heading into the Cleebian noodle shop in Sanakrat.
“Where is here?” he asked Setha, willing Prospero to be quiet.
“The Taiumikai system.”
Chapter Thirteen
Ikuzlu City, Kosfanter
41:2:14 (J2400:3138)
Cygni stood on a podium surrounded by crowds of people crammed into the wide space in a ring of two-story buildings with sandy-brown domes. High above, a sun shared the tea-rose colored sky with a caramel gas-giant. Its presence made her think she might be on Kosfanter at first, but the colors were wrong. A hot, dry wind blew across her face and sent a shiver down her back. The people around her raised their fists, chanting, but she couldn’t make out the words. They cheered, they clapped, they held their hands towards her in the air. Dark-stone women, like the ones on the fountain below the Intel-Sys Tower, crawled up onto the domes from the crowd. They opened their mouths, and a blood colored mist spewed from them.
To her horror, her own mouth snapped open and streamed the same dark mist across the crowd. The people started coughing, a few at first, but the fits spread as the air darkened with blood. Someone started a scream that spread like fire to the rest until the red air was awash in the frightening din. The sound pierced her ears and she swayed on her feet from the pain. She tried to close her mouth but a paralysis seized it down to the bone. Around her the crowd tore into each other with hooked fingers. They gouged eyes, ripped ears, and bit off noses with a terrifying frenzy. The blood flew from their berserk attacks staining the people, the buildings, and the air red.
She trembled. She wanted to run but she could find no gap in the crowd where she might make a break through the mob to safety. She was trapped in a sea of murder, a pulsing mass of madness unbroken from one side of the plaza to the other.
“Horrible, isn’t it?” The voice was smooth and cold, touching her ears with a reptilian caress.
She spun around, her eyes falling upon Sinuthros’ scaly, gray skin. A slow smile spread above his pointed chin. She could see her terrified expression in his black eyes. The ring of blue sparks within them pulsed in time with the movement of the murderous crowd. She traced his thin, gray arm down to where his hand encircled Baron Keltan’s neck. On his knees, the baron choked and sputtered, blood pouring from his gaping mouth.
She screamed—and awakened to Shkur shaking her.
“Cygni?” He stopped when her eyes met his.
“I’m okay,” she said between breaths. Her body was cold and soaked in sweat. “It was just a bad dream, that’s all.” She shuddered. The image of Baron Keltan being strangled lingered behind her eyelids.
Shkur sat up and the bed sheet fell away from his leathery skin. His small, honey-yellow eyes darted up and down her body several times before the tension left him. He leaned in close and the petals of his nose fluttered.
“You reek of fear,” he said in Nyangari.
“It was a bad dream.” She looked away at the poly-glass window just past the edge of the bed. Through it the towers of the Solan Ghetto glowed with the light of a million apartments below the night sky. She called up her chronometer. The numbers in the upper left side of he
r vision told her dawn would arrive soon.
Her dream made her think of what happened beneath the palace. She never could have imagined she would see the day when a baron was so brutalized in her presence. She realized Baron Revenant knew what was going to happen when he asked her to record the events of the evening. That he asked—no—demanded a copy for himself made her stomach queasy. What kind of sick person wanted to watch something like that again?
“You have not had bad dreams like this before.” Shkur settled back down on the bed with his long throat-sack splayed out across his chest.
She rolled onto her side, putting an arm across the tight muscles of his body. His skin had a dry, waxy feel to it, but was warm and comforting against her own. She pulled herself tight against him.
“This one was particularly bad.” In her career she had taken on Orgnan Khargs, and gangsters without a shred of compassion. She’d seen people brutalized before her eyes in the street, but seeing what she did last night shook her to her core. The most powerful man in the Orion Spur was a monster, and she had put herself in his path. What was I thinking?
“Tell me about your dream.” The two sides of Shkur’s lower jaw opened out and away from each other. He licked his three lips with a pointed tongue and took her hand in his.
She shuddered. “I don’t want to.”
“Hmm.” Shkur sat up beside her. She felt his strong hand pressing into her back. He moved his body behind her and pressed its warmth against her skin. His hands kneaded their way up the nape of her neck, rubbing in small circles that sent tingles down her extremities. She felt him stand up behind her, and his digits massaged their way across her scalp.
“That’s nice,” she said, feeling some of her tension drain away.
He half-purred, half-clicked with something deep in his throat in response. “Feeling better?”
Keltan's Gambit: Chronicles of the Orion Spur Book 2 Page 24
