Legacy of a Mad Scientist

by John Carrick

  Reid, still in control of his gun tree, fired with four rifles and five missiles; scoring enough direct hits to separate the wolf in loaf-sized pieces, but the damage was done.

  The tumbling wolf had righted himself and retreated, as Reid’s battle tank, though wounded, ascended toward their elevation. Reid put the wounded Captain Snow in the tank and programmed it for a safe house across town.

  The Maxwells had not missed either aerial engagement and moved in to continue the assault. Their fifty caliber guns chased Reid and the severely wounded Captain from the sky, scoring several more hits before the pair of them escaped to a safe distance.

  Chapter 59 – Shotguns and Tripwires

  Thursday, July 30, 2308

  Geoff shook his sister and whispered, "Ash, wake up, they're here."

  Ashley woke with a start. "What?" She rubbed her face. "Where's Ross?"

  "He’s not back yet." Geoff looked up, “Listen.”

  Ashley heard it, booms that sounded like thunder and an underlying rat-a-tat-a-tat sound she recognized as the sound of machine guns.

  “What’s going on out there?” she asked.

  “Some kind of fire fight,” Geoff said.

  "You should get in the car," urged Ashley.

  "Not yet,” Geoff answered.

  Ashley glared at him.

  “They don't have a heat signature on us, the building is shielded somehow,” Geoff explained. “I'm tapped into their frequencies, I can hear everything they're saying. They’ve been attacked by Black Willow units and lost the Wolves, but were expecting more resistance. Sounds like the fight is over.”

  Overhead the booms became more sporadic and then ceased all together.

  “They’re regrouping,” Geoff said. “They have orders to take us alive. And somehow they know Ross is gone. They're ordered a room by room search."

  Geoff pointed to the security monitors.

  On three of the seven balconies, dark forms descended on ropes. They huddled in front of the sliding doors and went to work, cutting circles in the glass. Once they cracked the circles of glass free from the doors, they simply reached in and unlocked the sliding panels.

  Ashley appreciated the old-school nature of the situation. The balcony doors at this hotel weren't voice operated, or even digitally wired. The attacking soldiers had prepared appropriately.

  The first tripwire was hit. The explosion rocked the hotel; much louder than the aerial combat, this blast rocked the cement floor under the children’s feet.

  The three soldiers in unit four were blown out through the balcony doors. Two lay crumpled and bleeding, while the third was blown from the balcony all together. If the shrapnel and concussive blast wave injuries didn't kill him, his impact with the ocean below surely would.

  Ashley and Geoff watched the remaining the soldiers in rooms two and six. They didn't move. Using a flashlight, the lead man in two identified one of the monofilament tripwires. He crept toward the charges attached the to the line, brushing away a piece of newspaper.

  Ashley took the open wire and touched it to the appropriate peg, shredding the room with steel and glass.

  Geoff tugged at Ashley's elbow as a wall of the garage was blown out. On the monitors, a small group of soldiers entered, detaching their fast-drop lines before moving deeper into the garage.

  Ashley waited until they were aligned with the wired trashcan before blowing it. The blast separated the soldiers, slashing into the soft spots between their armor plates, lacerating vital organs and arteries.

  The soldiers in room six had not moved since the first blast. Ashley held the live wire close to the peg for 6LR. It was largest of the suites and subsequently contained more explosives.

  After some time, one soldier straightened up a bit and took one step backward, toward the balcony.

  Another soldier shook his head and pressed deeper into the unit.

  The third man stood his ground, neither advancing nor retreating.

  The inward soldier spotted a tripwire and pointed it out to his comrades, slipping toward the charges to defuse them.

  Ashley's hovering hand went to the nail and the charges detonated. The soldier attempting to defuse the charge came apart, while his comrades were knocked flat.

  "More coming," Geoff said.

  On the monitors, the sliding glass doors of units one and five were shot out by the heavy machine guns of the circling transports.

  Three more soldiers came in through the hole in the garage.

  Ashley triggered another trashcan, knocking them from their feet.

  A dozen soldiers landed on the balconies of the blown out units.

  "You have to run the board," Ashley said. She took the Micronix out of her pocket and set it on the table. "How good are you with this thing?"

  "I'm getting better," Geoff said.

  Ashley pulled out the phone Ross gave her. "Do you think you could call me on this?” she asked.

  Geoff nodded. "Why?"

  "Because I'm going upstairs," she said.

  "You're what?" Geoff said, shocked.

  "I'm going up there. They're not all dead yet."

  "Yeah Ash, they're not dead yet! And there's going to be more of them coming!"

  She plugged her earphones into the phone. "Can you do it or not?"

  A moment later, the phone rang. "Can you hear me?" Geoff asked.

  Ashley nodded, smiling.

  She disconnected the shotgun and pulled it from the brace. "Put this back."

  "I can do it," Geoff answered.

  Ashley hugged her little brother and slipped out the door.

  "Why don't you take it with you?" Geoff asked.

  "There's plenty up there. Now, lock the door." Ashley grinned.

  Geoff locked the door behind her and put the shotgun in the brace.

  "You're clear to the kitchen," Geoff said, returning to his place in front of the detonation board. Not that he needed to see the monitors, the Micronix provided more surveillance options than the few cameras they'd set up. Geoff could see through the soldier’s helmet cams.

  “Ash, the Micronix is feeding me their radio communications. Sounds like there are two of them deploying troops and three on standby. They’re big enough to carry thirty men and a ten-man crew.”

  Ashley whispered, “get in the car, geoff,”

  Geoff scanned the monitors. “No way, this just started.”

  Upstairs, Ashley crept into the kitchen, pulling a few extra explosive pies from the fridge. There were three exits from the administration offices: into the main lobby, the garage, or the maintenance hallway. In the main hall, the offset doors were all wired to their own sets of charges.

  Ashley peeked out through the lobby into the hall.

  Everything was quiet.

  None of the charges in the hall had been detonated, and the lobby doors leading to the garage were closed and quiet.

  “Coming in from the garage, four this time. No wait, six. Oh God, six more! They're heading to you, to the lobby," Geoff said over the earphones.

  Ashley ducked behind the main counter as the soldiers opened the doors to the garage. The blasts shook the floor underneath her.

  Somehow, over the ringing in her head, Ashley heard Geoff say, "They're down. The guys in one and five are holding still."

  Ash slowly stood behind the counter, surveying the damage. The doors had been blown from their hinges and lay out in the lobby. Soldiers lie twitching and groaning or still.

  Ash boldly walked toward the garage. She picked up the first loose weapon she came across, a tactical shotgun, similar to the one downstairs.

  She clicked the safety off.

  The smoke hung in the air the way the ringing hung in her ears.

  Ashley approached the first soldier.

  He lay at her feet and moaned. Blood ran from his face and ears.

  Ashley pointed the shotgun at his head and squeezed the trigger. It erupted with a boom. She ejected the spent shell and chambered another, as R
oss had shown her.

  As she came toward the next man, he objected to the best of his ability, raising his hands and crying, "No, no, no?"

  "Who sent you?" Ashley asked, aiming the shotgun at his face.

  "Command," he admitted. "We have legal warrants!" The soldier turned his face away from the gun, tension knotting his features.

  "Who?" Ashley demanded.

  "We were cleared at the top! National Intelligence Director."

  Ashley raised the collapsible stock of the shotgun to her shoulder, aiming in. "What's his name?"

  "Director Stanwood! Director Stanwood!" he screamed.

  Ashley fired.

  The name rang in her head, forever chiseled into her memory by the concussion of the blast.

  She walked to each of the soldiers in turn.

  From those who were already dead, Ash collected weapons and ammunition. If they were awake enough to answer, she asked who sent them. Some answered her honestly for which she granted them a quick and merciful release from their pain.

  Some soldiers showed a bit more fortitude and refused to answer. They were rewarded with the loss of a limb. Either way, the end result was the same. When the shotgun ran out of shells, she picked up another.

  Occasionally she heard the sound of explosives from some other section of the hotel, but no one interrupted her until she'd finished.

  Even Geoff had gone quiet.

  Over and over again Ashley heard the names Stanwood and Von Kalt. When her head stopped ringing, it was her own name she heard being repeated by a little voice inside her head.

  "Ashley, do you hear me? Ash? Ashley?" Geoff struggled to be heard her small earphone. "There are more of them coming! You have to get out of there!"

  Ashley was all the way across the garage; close enough to where the soldiers breached the wall to enjoy a refreshing breeze blowing in from the night outside. Ashley stepped closer. The fresh air smelled incredible after the stale motel.

  Two soldiers suddenly appeared before her, hanging on spider-lines.

  Ashley raised the shotgun and fired, causing them to vanish in an explosion of lead and smoke.

  Ashley turned and sprinted from the garage.

  “It’s okay,” Geoff said. “It’s okay. They pulled back for a second.”

  Ashley slung the shotgun and sprinted for the kitchen. She collected as many extra bomb-pots as she could carry and returned to the garage. She armed four pots, and set them in series before the gaping hole.

  Geoff spoke up over her earphones. "They’re shifting their approach. Coming from the units, number five, they're coming."

  Ashley sprinted across the garage and again into the kitchen. She grabbed a few plastique-and-nail-packed glasses and crept toward the doors to the lobby.

  From behind the counter she peered into the hall.

  It was empty.

  Ashley slipped around the counter and toward the larger doorway.

  Number five's doors had already been blown from their hinges.

  Three men stepped from blasted room into the hall.

  They carefully picked their way past several of the tripwires.

  Ashley was trapped, and she knew it. There was no way she could escape without drawing them after her. From here, if they were careful, they could follow her all the way to the basement.

  Ashley took a deep breath and stepped out to confront them.

  They hesitated at the sight of a child standing before them, even if she did have a shotgun strapped across her back and her hands full of what appeared to be improvised explosives.

  The soldiers lowered their weapons.

  Ashley narrowed her eyes and tossed the glasses at the soldiers and dove for the kitchen as the barrels of their guns came up.

  The moment stretched into slow motion.

  The soldiers sprayed the area with bullets.

  They missed Ashley but detonated the charges flying toward them.

  The burning shrapnel ripped into them.

  Ashley rose to discover there was no one left for her to interrogate.

  Ashley collected as many of the glasses as she could carry and rushed from the kitchen, through the admin offices and down the basement stairwell, setting the charges behind her as she went.

  From the units above she heard several more detonations. She waited, crouched to the side of the rigged door leading to her brother and their escape transport.

  She waited, listening.

  The explosions had stopped.

  After a few moments of silence, Geoff whispered over the phone, "All clear. They're pulling out. They said they lost enough for one evening."

  "I'm going to double check," Ashley said, creeping back up the stairs.

  "Okay, but be careful, they could still be alive."

  Ash made a careful second sweep of the units.

  For any found alive, she had one question… Who sent you?

  Stanwood or Von Kalt was always the answer.

  Ashley's mercy was consistent and quick. She didn't think about it. She didn't wonder if she was doing the right thing. She didn't care if Geoff or her parents might disapprove. She didn't care if the enemy was listening over their radios.

  It did occur to her that they were answering too easily; almost as if she were asking, "Who's the President of the United States?" The soldiers didn't seem to be giving up secret information in their betrayal of their superiors.

  Once she’d cleared the upper floors, Ash collected their weapons and ammunition, carrying it all downstairs. She lined the walls of their command center with shotguns, assault rifles and pistols.

  Ashley used their grenades to replace some of the spent munitions, re-wiring the kill zones and booby-trapping several of the bodies.

  She and Geoff didn’t discuss the situation as she busied herself with the tasks at hand.

  Once she finished, she took a seat next to him, scanning the monitors, behind the table and the giant armor plate set in front of it.

  Ash didn’t realize she’d drifted off to sleep until Geoff woke her.

  "Ross is here," he said.

  A moment later Ashley's phone alerted her with an incoming call.

  Chapter 60 - Breakdown

  Thursday, July 30, 2308

  Chief Warrant Officer Reid called Major Ross, “Sir, we just got our asses handed to us! Snow is out, and I’m limping back to Montrose on a residual charge. I hope you guys are on your way back?”

  “What do you mean? You’re leaving them alone?!” Ross shouted in reply from the passenger seat of the speeding transport. “Chief, I need you to put Snow on auto-pilot and turn around immediately!”

  “They bought in five Maxwells, Major. I’m happy to go back, you know that. But Captain Snow and I are both Last Legs. If she doesn’t get some medical attention… Well, her suit isn’t going to save her.

  “We knocked out both the remaining wolves, but we lost one of the gun-trees and this one isn’t going to make it very far. I hope you wired Vinnie up tight, because whether I go back or not, it is locked down.”

  “Do not go back, Chief. Do you hear me?” Croswell said. “Their orders are to take the children alive. They won’t go in heavy-handed. Proceed to rally point Montrose. We will meet you there.”

  “I called the Preacher, and the rest of Charlie team, none of them are any closer than twelve hours. I also activated a despooler on Ashley’s Micronix, so whatever signals are bleeding out of St. Vincent’s they won’t be able to record them. We need to get to work on jamming that scanner of Bergstrom’s or even if they do manage to escape, it won’t be for very long.”

  “Are you still streaming those signals, Chief? Can you forward them to us?”

  “Hey, is this true? Phillips’s dead?” Reid asked.

  “I asked you to forward the signals, not scan the latest headlines.”

  “Copy, sir. Mirroring to your amplifiers now.”

  Von Kalt regained control of the battle suit, but there was no returning to the fight. He’d
expended most of his ordinance, and he was bleeding altitude. He was still considerably higher than most of the hanging city, but unless he moved inland, sooner or later he was going to drown.

  The alarms ringing in his head made listening to the progress of the assault on Saint Vincent’s impossible. If he didn’t get out of the suit soon, he wouldn’t.

  Von Kalt crashed into the courtyard of an abandoned shopping center, shattering the marble tiles under the wolf’s heavy terillium-armor plates. He triggered the ejection handle and the suit blasted him across the parking lot, the parachute unfurling behind him. Von Kalt tucked and rolled as he crashed to the courtyard tiles. The guidelines, and kevlar-terillium chute, wrapped around him like Cleopatra in a carpet.

  The battle suit, no longer occupied with protecting the meat-puppet pilot, attempted to right itself and exploded. Fiery shrapnel hit the deputy director hard enough to bruise him, but didn’t rip through the chute.

  A few minutes later he’d extricated himself and taken a cooler seat across the courtyard. The sky-mall gave Von Kalt a perfect view of the ongoing hostilities at St. Vincent’s. The Maxwell vehicles hung overhead like vultures, while white and orange flashes sporadically erupted from the motel, followed by billowing plumes of smoke and tongues of fire.

  His ears had only just stopped ringing when his communicator took up the challenge. It was Stanwood.

  Von Kalt accepted the call but didn’t speak.

  “Oh my God, what happened to you?” Stanwood asked.

  It must have been clear, given his beaten, battered and burned visage, that all was not well. He didn’t answer but looked back to St. Vincent’s.

  “I’m monitoring form my end, I’m glad that’s you down there. A rescue craft is inbound.”

  Von Kalt looked back to Stanwood’s holographic image projected before him.

  “Phillips is dead. Croswell and Ross were in the room.”

  Von Kalt took a deep breath. He didn’t say a word, but his glare spoke volumes.

  “Conway has ordered you to stand down. He wants you to call back the Maxwells. Apparently Fox, the sick fuck that he was, implanted his own kids with five-kiloton failsafe devices.”