Hive III

by Griffin Hayes

  “I got myself a big one,” Bron shouts and for a moment he looks like one of those old pictures of fishermen on the high seas. I can hear a whirring sound as the grappling hook starts to reel him in. But the flying Zee isn’t gonna go down without a fight and he flaps his wings, dragging Bron toward the edge of the roof. I grab hold of the big man at once, all of us do, and we’re trying to prevent him from falling to his death for real this time.

  “Cut the line,” I shout.

  But Bron’s pretending not to hear me. The stubborn bastard is on a suicide mission and I know nothing I say will change his mind. He’s even firing his 20mm and I see a handful of tracers whiz by Volg as he tries desperately to escape. One round goes clear through his right shoulder and suddenly the wing on that side stops flapping.

  That’s when Bron rotates his wrist twice, getting a good solid hold on the steel wire, and yanks it with everything he’s got. Volg is jerked back like a faltering kite being pulled from the sky. Bron’s pulled so hard the creature’s about to come crashing into him, but that’s exactly what the big man wants and when it happens, both of Bron’s twelve inch blades are waiting for him. The first tears a six inch gash in the creature’s chest and the second goes clean through its skull. The light in Volg’s eyes, fixed firmly on Bron, begins to fade at once. The blades retract and the Zee slumps to the ground.

  “This isn’t Bron’s day to die,” the big man says.

  He might be right, but the day isn’t over yet.

  -27-

  Back in the warehouse, Dhal’s tongue is sticking out as he puts the finishing touches on his jamming device. Ret’s bent over, leaning on one knee, trying to catch his breath. Bron, on the other hand, has got his chest puffed out and I’m sure he’s about to launch into a bad fish catching joke.

  Across from me, Oleg’s handing bits of metal panelling to Dhal, staring on rather helplessly. Engineering isn’t the old man’s area of expertise and the control freak in him is having a hard time dealing with it. And I can’t entirely blame him, either. Last we saw, those Keepers outside were slowly being flanked by a fresh group of Zees from the south and it won’t be long before the human army is completely surrounded and destroyed.

  Bron makes his way to the now mangled warehouse barricade and peers out. A quick hand signal reveals no Zees in sight. Not that it’s much of a surprise. The Queen’s pulling all available resources in order to wipe Commander Tind’s troops from the battlefield.

  A few agonizing minutes later, Dhal looks up with a beaming smile and that goofy look of his tells me one thing.

  The jammer is ready.

  There’s a second, smaller device in his hand with a faded red button on top. The whole thing looks cobbled together from bits of junk, which shouldn’t be a surprise since that’s exactly how it was made.

  Bron hardly looks impressed. “Couldn’t you just turn all this crap into a big bomb and blow her Zee ass away?”

  “If I had more time, I prolly could,” Dhal replies and even I can tell that isn’t just his teenage arrogance talking.

  He raises the device in the air. “This button activates the jammer,” he explains.

  I point to a similar looking button on the jammer itself.

  “If you wanna get that close, be my guest, but I think our only shot of making this work is to toss it in and jam her remotely.”

  The corner of Ret’s mouth twitches in a show of doubt. “But we still need to find someone dumb enough to walk right up to her.”

  Bron’s metal hand is in the air, volunteering before Ret even finishes. Not a bit surprising, but I know that’s not gonna work.

  “We need your heavy guns to keep the Zees off of us,” I tell him. “It’ll have to be someone else.”

  I can see that Ret’s about to step up, in spite of his ‘dumb’ comment from before, when Dhal beats him to it. “I can use the Titan to get closer than anyone. When that metal cockpit is closed and sealed, nothing can touch me. Once it’s in place, I’ll activate it from inside.”

  He turns to me. “After that, the rest is up to you, Azina.”

  Yeah, no shit it is. “Check your weapons,” I bark. “I don’t want anyone running dry or jamming when we’re in the thick of it.” There’s a mounting weight creeping over my shoulders, in part because I’m still not entirely sure what to do in the narrow window of time the Zee’s are under my control. When I find myself in difficult situations, I’ve always preferred to think on my feet. Never have been much of a planner, but now the future of mankind is hanging in the balance, all I can hope is that I won’t choke.

  -28-

  We arrive before Newton’s Temple not long after, the sounds of gunfire echoing in the distance. It’s a good sign because it means Tind’s men are still alive. Dhal’s just ahead of us, driving that colossal smoke belching machine. He’s got the remote with him in the cockpit. The jammer is nestled in the machine’s left hand. Predictably, Klaus and Oleg look as pale as a bucket of goat’s milk. Next to me stands Bron and the dense muscles in his jaw keep flexing in anticipation. In a strange way, I can’t help but think that he was born for this very moment. And maybe, in some other reality, the one where Oleg’s pensive gods sit around contemplating new ways to make the lives of mortal men hell, this has all been foretold.

  A thought which is suddenly dashed by the sound of a thunderous crash as Dhal brings one of the machine’s giant fists down on the temple archway. The entrance wasn’t nearly large enough for him to pass through and the look of utter horror on Oleg’s face is almost comical.

  “That’s sacrilege,” he mutters.

  I slap the old man’s back with a firm hand. “We’re just getting started.”

  With a kick from one of the Titan’s bronzed feet, the double entrance doors shatter into thousands of splinters. There’s silence and murky darkness inside for nearly a full second before we hear hissing and see the glow of hundreds of Zees eyes, as they sprint out toward us.

  If there was any doubt before that the Queen was inside, it’s gone now.

  The attacking Zees barely reach the light before Bron opens fire. The concussions are so loud I feel my eardrums threatening to burst. One round rips through five Zees before it detonates, plastering brains in all directions. I still feel that sting when a Zee dies, but right now Oleg’s got a different kind of pain on his face. This is the holiest place in all of the ten territories and there’s no ifs, ands or buts. We’re about to rip it apart.

  One Zee, wearing a tattered wedding dress, manages to get a few yards from Klaus before I land two rounds in her face and one in her brain box. She falls at once, skidding along the ground, her lips coming to rest against Klaus’ Keeper boots. He glances back.

  “Nice shot.”

  “Go for the head,” I remind him.

  Truth be told, the failure wasn’t his alone. Sneak doesn’t use guns, only blades, and it’s her job to take care of any Zees that manage to breach our perimeter. She slices her blade clean through the neck of a shrieking Zee who used to be the temple’s high priest and then spin kicks the severed head back through the temple archway. But this isn’t Sneak trying to showboat. That’s her funny little way of telling me she got the message, that it won’t happen again.

  The flood of Zees slackens and, with squeaks and groans, Dhal begins maneuvering his metallic beast inside. A pile of dead and wounded Zees clutter the entrance and Dhal steams ahead anyway, squishing many of them into a bloody pulp.

  The minute we enter I realize the word temple doesn’t do the place justice. It’s absolutely immense, webbed in deep shadow. Then I catch a glimpse of something in the distance I know Oleg’s gonna hate. The Queen has set up her little nursery over the main altar.

  The ceiling seems to reach up forever and that’s when a blur of movement overhead catches my attention and I know it isn’t any of that fancy artwork of Newton and falling apples that’s done it. The Queen’s given birth to another Zee and, with that epiphany, something else becomes obvious. S
he’s lured us into a trap.

  -29-

  There’s a card game that’s popular in the entertainment district of Sotercity called Occam's Razor, where players try and bluff their way to victory. Hold your cards close to your chest and feign weakness. Cocky opponents are the easiest to beat. The Queen may not know a damn thing about Occam's Razor, but she’d make one hell of a player.

  Letting me see exactly where she was, setting herself over the altar, out in the open, exposed and, best of all, leading us to believe she’d only given birth to a single flying Zee. Although it doesn’t take more than scanning the high temple ceiling and the shadows flitting above us to see how foolish we were. I’m struck a second later by a blast from Zee central. Yet another thing she’d held in reserve and I feel like my head’s about to come apart at the seams. That’s when I feel my right arm about to reach for the Katana on my back and I use everything I’ve got to hold it in place and block her out. It’s clear enough what she’s after. She wants me to cut down my own people, just as Skuld tried to have me do back in Sotercity.

  My hands are pushing against each of my temples, trying to quell the storm in my head. And, through it all, I become dimly aware of two things. The first is Bron, glancing my way with a dark concern settling over his face, like he knew this was going to happen and maybe he should blow me to bits before I have another freak out. The second has to do with the flying Zees, circling overhead. The air fills with the sound of hissing and I realize at once they’re diving down on us.

  Ret shouts and everyone fires into the air frantically. All except for me and Dhal. The kid and that machine of his are grinding forward, metal gears whining, smoke belching from the exhaust pipe behind his cockpit, chunks of marble floor churning up with each colossal step. We’re about halfway to the altar, Dhal’s proxy clutching the jamming device, and it seems like nothing can stop him. Tracers from Bron’s cannons light up the temple, suddenly illuminating the real target of their assault. The flying Zees aren’t coming for us, at least not yet. They’re after Dhal.

  Bron cuts one of them right out of the air and it tumbles into a row of pews with a violent shudder. I’m still struggling to push the Queen out of my head when I see three of those things land on Dhal’s bronze shoulders and use their razor sharp claws to slash at exposed cogs and hoses. His free hand reaches back and grabs hold of one of them, before it can squirm away, and crushes it into a meaty stew.

  Barely a second later, two more crash into Bron and send him sailing through the air. He hits a mural, depicting Newton’s childhood, shattering it to pieces. They land and now they’re moving toward him, claws glinting in the dim light. Bron isn’t moving and I’m not sure I can make it there in time to help him. I’m running, but the Queen’s still slamming around inside my head; every step is a gargantuan effort. The first to reach him raises its hand to strike and immediately bursts into flames. Bron’s used his flame thrower and pivots to let the other one have a taste but, before he’s able to, the Zee lands a crushing blow to his arm, denting the nozzle and rendering it useless. The blades pop out of Bron’s arms at once, but I can already tell he’s woozy from whacking his head against the wall. A set of claws rake across his chest, leaving deep horizontal gashes. As he looks down and sees it, for the first time I can tell he’s worried. The big oaf’s never seen his own blood in battle before.

  Still fresh, the flying Zee lunges forward to sink its teeth into Bron’s neck. The big man barely manages to avoid the attack, but I know he’s nearly done for. The others have their own problems to worry about and I’m growing more convinced that the Queen’s little plan has worked perfectly. I’m ten feet away from the struggle going on between Bron and the flying Zee when I see it retract its arm for the killing blow. The anger building up within me is just enough to drown out the Zee code buzzing through my brain. There’s a broken pew between us and I leap over it, Katana in hand, with the clear knowledge I’ve only got one chance to keep Bron from being skewered. The Katana slices through the Zee’s elbow and the arm splits in two, dark Zee blood pumping from the wound. It turns, incredulous, and that’s when I spin, the blade whispering just below its chin, and I watch as its head rolls to the ground. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Zees, it’s that there’s only one real way to kill them. A final thrust into the brain cavity puts its lights out forever.

  I rush to Bron at once. He’s bleeding badly and Ret’s too far away to be much help, tearing a flying Zee in half with his automatic shotgun. Behind us is a wooden statue of Newton, complete with white flowing robe. I can only imagine the kind of palpitations Oleg will have when he sees what I’m about to do, but right now there isn’t much choice. I slice a wide strip off Newton’s robe, turning it into what the Dusters used to call a miniskirt. The piece I cut wraps neatly around Bron’s wide chest and should stop some of the bleeding. I’m just starting to feel hopeful when I spot Dhal’s giant machine, teetering with over a half dozen winged Zees ripping at it. They haven’t managed to pry the cockpit open, but they don’t need to. Sparks are bursting from the machine’s giant back and shoulders. They’ve inflicted crippling damage and I gasp as I see it wobble and then collapse, face-first. The jammer skitters from its open fingers and I don’t know if Dhal is still alive, but one thing isn’t in doubt: the device won’t be close enough to the Queen to jam her signal.

  -30-

  My heart drops when I see Ret sling the shotgun over his back and break into a run. He’s about to do something foolish. He’s gonna grab the jammer and run it into range before activating it by hand. I start to scream out for him to stop when I see him reach out to snag Klaus’s robe, just as a flying Zee crashes into him. Ret sails through the air, arms and legs kicking wildly, before colliding with a stone pillar. He sinks to the floor, leaving a trail of blood running down the white stone. I rush to his side, suddenly aware it was Klaus he was trying to stop from running in, knowing it’s a certain death sentence.

  “Bron,” I shout, pointing to Klaus. “Covering fire!”

  Ret’s eyes are closed and he looks dead. But there isn’t even time to find out for sure.

  Those things are still tearing at Dhal’s cockpit as Klaus rushes past them. One of then reaches for him, right as a shell from Bron’s 20mms cuts his arm in two. Now all of us are firing with everything we have, in a vain attempt to clear a path for Klaus. He reaches the box and nearly trips, pulling it to his chest. He’s maybe thirty yards from the Queen now and she’s sitting behind her protective shell, working hard to pump out those flying Zees. Even from here I can tell she sees him and the message over Zee central is loud and clear.

  STOP HIM!

  The Zees on Dhal’s machine take to the air in pursuit. Bron and the rest of us unload with everything we’ve got, shooting down two more. And that’s when our luck runs out. I’m in the middle of fishing out a fresh magazine for my repeater and Sneak’s locked in a heated battle with one of those bastards who circled back to take out Oleg. A big, nasty looking Zee touches down, right in Klaus’ path, and gets one of Bron’s searing shells in the face, spraying the young Keeper with black gore as he runs by. Tracers cut through the air, trying to intercept one that’s diving in too quickly. Bron cuts him down and the creature crashes into the center aisle, knocking Klaus to the ground. I wanna run toward him, but I know I’ll never get there in time. A second later, the Keeper’s back on his feet and limping. His robe is torn and, even from here, I can see the trail of blood behind him. Then I catch another signal coming from the Queen and a swarm of regular Zees comes rushing out from behind the altar. She’s kept a reserve force, as a last resort, and even as we continue pouring lead into their ranks, I see we’re not going to get them all. It’s hard to tell how close Klaus gets before the Zees take him down. He’s on the floor, face down, and I can hear him screaming as the Zees tear the flesh from his lips. I wanna reach out and end his suffering, but it’s over in a matter of seconds. For a moment the temple is silent, except for the sound of B
ron’s heavy breathing and another noise I can’t quite make out at first. It’s coming from the mound of Zees ravaging Klaus’ corpse and it sounds like… beeping. The Queen’s code that’s been bouncing around inside my head suddenly stops and I realize what’s happened. Klaus must have activated the jammer, right as he was taken down. If we want any chance of stopping the Queen it’s now or never.

  I know already that ordering the Zees to commit suicide won’t work. That survivalist instinct is buried deep within, a carryover from their long lost humanity that was never completely extinguished. And if one could nail down a single prime directive, which has guided humanity throughout the ages, it would be this: kill or be killed. No, I won’t try and order the Zees to bash their own brains out. They won’t intentionally harm themselves. But being one of them, there’s something else I do know about Zees. Something they proved when they tore the Hive leader to shreds, a violent remnant from the human code developed, as Oleg says, over thousands of years. The perfect willingness to kill one another.

  I feel my eyes begin to glow bright as I lift nearly a foot off the ground. I’m syncing with the totality of Zee central and suddenly an incredible feeling of oneness washes over me. The Zees are an extension of my physical body. I see what they see. Feel what they feel and they are engaged in a battle outside the city walls and are about to win. Commander Tind and his army have been reduced to a small fraction of men and machines, trapped on a tiny outcropping, experiencing what they can only assume are the final moments of their lives. That’s when I form the signal and blast it out in all directions simultaneously. The compliance is immediate. Only the Zees within the jammer’s range remain oblivious. In the blink of an eye, Zees everywhere begin attacking one another. Gnashing with teeth and hands. Ripping each other apart. Commander Tind’s men stand, in stunned silence, as this swarming army of Zees, that moments before was on the verge of wiping them out, has now turned on one another. It doesn’t take more than a few moments for the battlefield to become a lake of dark Zee blood and I can’t help but feel a hint of sadness as I feel the last of them wink out.