John ignored that Wolf for the moment; it wasn’t a threat for now. He kicked off the ground hard, his fires bursting from his lower legs and feet and propelling him into the air. A half second later, alloy claws raked the ground where he had been standing, carving deep furrows in the concrete. He turned in the air and thrust his right arm out in one motion; a lance of fire burst from his palm, striking the offending third Wolf square in the forehead. The beam of fire burned through the Wolf’s head and body in a flash, splashing against the concrete behind and beneath it. Something inside of the Wolf detonated, sending flames and an acrid cloud of black smoke outward. The fourth and fifth Wolves leapt for him at the same time, trying to pin him in the air. John felt the attack coming, even though they were attacking from his blind spots on either side. Without a flourish, he spun in place, bringing his sword up first in a rising cut from his right hip to his left shoulder, then back down again from his right shoulder to his left hip. The two cuts separated the Wolves’ heads from their shoulders in an instant; John moved forward a few feet just in time, as the Wolves’ decapitated chassis slammed into each other midair before crashing into the ground. The final amputee Wolf was still crawling towards the center of the docks, single-minded in its purpose. He hovered for a moment, then unleashed his fires, letting them flow from his sword point and his arms; the flames washed around the final Wolf, completely engulfing it. Slowly, he amped up the intensity, turning the mechanical horror to molten and smoking slag. That’ll do it.
As he landed, he glanced at Sera; there were pieces of Wolf scattered all about her, and no sign of a whole one. It looked as if she had duplicated the wild spinning she had performed among the Thulian troopers, simply turning and moving too fast to be tracked and letting her fire-sword cut through whatever had gotten in her way. The Wolves, however advanced their programming, didn’t have the same self-preservation that the troopers had; their entire purpose was to attack, and they had been seemingly happy to oblige Sera by running right for her.
I think we have somehow learned to “tune” our fire so it is at the precise temperature to be most effective, Sera said in his mind, sounding just a little puzzled. Otherwise…this seems much easier than last time.
Like the man said, “Great, kid. Don’t get cocky.” We’ve still got quite a few of these bastards to deal with.
Sera was already at his side again, fire-sword at the ready, as their battle-sense showed a barrage of energy grenades about to be launched at the defensive emplacements.
Sera placed her hand atop John’s shoulder and concentrated; immediately he felt energy flooding into him. He took a deep breath, visualizing what he wanted to do, forming it to what was going to happen, changing that Possibility into a Reality. Energy blasts flashed all around the pair; they knew that they would have warning if any were really going to threaten them. The Thulians were still shaken, first from the couple’s opening assault, and then the ease with which they dispatched the Robo-Wolves.
For this instant, they both ignored what was going on around them, staring deeply into each others’ glowing, golden eyes. Eyes that were mirror images of how Sera’s had looked, before…
Then their eyes snapped up to concentrate on the thrown grenades, sailing high over their heads. John’s arms shot upwards, his sword dissipating into a gigantic cloud of fire that raced to meet the grenades. As soon as the wall of fire met the grenades, they each detonated, forming perfect spheres of blue-white destructive energy, like novas forming and disappearing in a nebula of fire.
Just as quickly, John shut the fires off, leaving no evidence that they had ever been there. The Thulians had halted their advance, both groups now orienting to face John and Sera exclusively. Finally gettin’ the message that we’re the ones to worry ’bout, huh, fellas?
This is a good thing. But as you said to me, “Do not get cocky.”
Let’s wrap up this bunch; I got a feelin’ that this isn’t gonna be over quite yet.
A new voice sounded in his ear. Not Vickie: young, and male. “Ural Smasher, this is Angel Flight, do you copy?”
For one startled moment, he thought this might be—Siblings? Sera’s…well, would you call them “relatives”? But then he remembered, from the assault in New Mexico; “Angel Flight” had been the designation of the Navy Blue Angels. No longer amusing the crowds at air shows, they and the Thunderbirds were now a bona fide elite strike force. And, it seemed, were partnered with him and Sera.
“Go, Angel Flight,” he replied, keeping a wary eye, and the battle-sense, on the Thulians, who it seemed had not yet made up their mind about their next move.
“We are in position to offer Danger-Close Fire on a strafing run on your signal. Danger-Close Fire will commence fifteen seconds from your go.”
“Roger that, we’ll update targets for you. Key in on the southern side of the docks; that’ll be the likely target zone. Stay frosty.”
“Southern docks. Copy that. Out.”
“Ready, darlin’?”
Sera turned her head slightly and smiled at him, her eyes going to blue briefly, before turning to the shining gold that meant they were in sync and their powers were at full. “Always.”
Both of them leaned out of the way as an energy blast split the air between them. A beat later, both of them were charging at the two groups of trooper armor; John at the one on the right, Sera at the one on the left. Energy blasts ripped apart fissures in the dock around the couple, sending steaming chunks of concrete into the air. John put an extra burst of speed on, his enhancements already keyed up; at the last second before he would have hit the trooper formation, he juked to the right, hard. With his left hand, he sent an explosive blast of concentrated plasma at the leftmost edge of the troopers; it struck the ground—and also the lower legs of three troopers—before erupting in a booming explosion. Then John was among the troopers, slashing with his sword or blasting with fire.
John felt as if he could have closed his eyes and been in no more danger than he already was. He knew where the attacks were coming from; if there was a juncture where he would be overwhelmed, he sidestepped it, went around or above, did something unexpected to break up the pattern. To his left, he sensed Sera weaving her own deadly dance of fire and sword and spear, just as sure in her movements as he was, and just as inescapable. It was wonderful; it was terrible. It was awe-full, in the ancient sense of the word. He was reminded of his moment of weakness, facing the Thulians alone at the academy in the woods; wielding all of that power, alone, with no moderating force…he understood why OpFours and Fives were often clinically insane, in one way or another. More than ever, he was glad that he had Sera with him.
He felt things coming to a head; he and Sera weren’t working separately, but together. They started to herd the two groups together; it wasn’t hard. Any time some of the troopers tried to cut and run or break away, they were cut down—literally, in some cases. When there were openings, a rocket or grenade from the soldiers would impact the bunched-together Thulians; more often than not it would hit a shield, but occasionally it connected, weakening several suits of armor and setting them alight. ECHO ordnance, crafted from Zmey’s recipe, and refined so that there were rarely misfires anymore. And where there were, well, it was nothing more than an idle move from John to set the spilled gels on fire.
John and Sera had become surrounded by the massed Thulians. The troopers had seemingly abandoned their assault on the docks for the moment; John could feel their rage at being opposed, their arrogance, and mostly their fear. Fear of John and Sera. They were all jockeying for position to try to shoot the couple or bludgeon them. John and Sera kept the troopers just out of reach with swords, spear, and fire. They could have simply flown straight up, escaping the huddle, but why would they?
They had the Thulian troopers right where they wanted them.
Sera allowed her sword to dissipate, then slipped her right hand into John’s left. He felt the surge of their shared power, felt it coursing through his ar
m, up his shoulder, and into his chest. He allowed the power to build there, to gather and pool inside of him. Before, whenever he had felt that pressure building, it had only been through supreme willpower that he hadn’t lost control and let his fires consume everything. Some metahumans needed great amounts of effort and training in order to ramp up their powers, to use them at their fullest extent; it had never been like that for John. For him, he needed to expend terrible effort to keep the full extent of his powers in check. Now, with Sera…it was easy. Easy as breathing.
I will help you hold it, love. Decide where you want it to go. So far…and no farther.
All he had to do was…let it go. Set the boundaries…so.
And he did.
The explosion formed a perfect dome of white-hot fire that expanded in an instant. It completely inundated the Thulians around John and Sera, with a diameter of roughly one hundred feet; it stopped well short of any cranes or shipping containers. To observers from the outside, it looked as if someone had dropped half of a star on the docks; the light was too blinding to look at for more than a moment. Sera moderated the power, keeping it from spilling beyond the boundaries. The only thing she couldn’t prevent was the sonic boom that the suddenly expanding air from the heat created; they knew that windows shattered and people felt the reverberations for miles around. Inside of the dome, it was a dance of fire. John and Sera stood in the center of it all, untouched, while the Thulians that had surrounded them turned dark, and then…faded into the fire. When they felt that it was done, John shut the fires off; again, just as easy as taking a breath. Then again, they couldn’t for a few moments; the fires had eaten a lot of the available oxygen in the area. As the fires disappeared, there was a great rush of wind as atmosphere filled the now empty space.
There was a perfectly black circle on the concrete where the sphere had been, the top of it scorched and covered with carbon.
Both of them went to one knee simultaneously, for a moment, their eyes turning “normal” as they regained their strength. “Better?” Sera asked, panting a little, but not nearly as spent as she had been at the battle of Ultima Thule when they had expended themselves. “Yes,” she said, answering her own question as she got to her feet again. “Much better. More control, less waste.” Her eyes faded back into gold, as did John’s, or so he suspected.
“Let’s make sure we eat a good dinner ’fore we start tangoin’ with any dragons, though. Agreed?”
“Or we have one of those beer hats with Vickie’s can meals in it,” she countered, with the faintest of chuckles. He shook his head, making a face, and yet…he was relieved.
These creatures are…I cannot describe it. It is more than “other.” It is far more than “alien”—I have no words. Just that, there is no pity and no remorse in them. Only arrogance, and great pride. I hope they will learn better on the other side, but they must be cleansed from here. I do not like killing them, but it is better that they are gone, for they will not learn here.
They’re gonna have more company, soon. Heads-up, darlin’.
They both felt it at the same time; John had the barest lead on her, if only because of his enhanced senses. He had heard what was coming before she could have.
A flight of Robo-Eagles, along with the one Death Sphere that had retreated earlier.
The birds, I will enjoy “killing.” I am glad they are nothing like Eight-Ball.
John and Sera both left the ground at the same time; John kicking off and igniting his fires, Sera with several powerful wingbeats that scattered the ashes at her feet before she was in the air. The Eagles and the Death Sphere didn’t alter course; they were coming straight for the couple. It was clear they recognized what the real threat here was.
I am faster and more maneuverable than you. Your fires burn hotter, faster. I will engage the birds to keep them from you while you deal with the Sphere. When the Sphere is down, we can both destroy the birds. Sera seemed very sure of her strategy, but then, she was the aerial combat expert, after all.
Followin’ your lead, darlin’. Let’s blast these bastards outta the sky.
It is my sky, and I do not like them in it! Sera sped straight for the Eagles, and then, suddenly, folded her wings and dropped about three yards, just as their focused energy beams from their mouth cannons cut through the air where she had been. Then they were past her position and she somehow executed a lightning-fast course change and came up behind and above them.
Then she was among them. She danced, and her dance was death incarnate.
As much as he wanted to watch Sera work, he didn’t have the time. The Eagles were keeping her occupied, but there was still the Sphere; between the tentacles, the energy cannons, the thermite ports, and whatever other horror the Thulians had cooked up and stuck on it, it was dangerous as all hell. Time to fix that.
John put on a burst of speed, closing the distance to the Death Sphere. Several tentacles lashed out at him; he twisted in the air, most of them narrowly missing him. He didn’t want to bob and weave in and out too much. For one, there was no need; he knew where the attacks would be. Second, by making minor course corrections and positioning his body correctly, he didn’t wear himself out as fast; conservation of energy was important in any fight, even with how juiced up he and Sera were. Despite his efforts, there were a few tentacles that he wouldn’t have been able to avoid; those, he simply lopped off with his manifested fire-claymore. He switched the sword from side to side in a sort of windshield-wiper motion in front of him; the sword’s double edge easily bit through the Thulian alloy, sending bits of mechanical tentacles plunging towards the ground below.
With a final blast of his fires, he spun in the air, and landed hard on top of the Death Sphere. Not giving the pilots inside a chance to shake him loose, he turned the sword over in his hands so that the point was aimed at his feet, and then thrust with all of his might. The fire-claymore passed through the alloy plates with little resistance; sparks and combustible exhaust issued from the cut, streaming through John’s legs and behind the Death Sphere like a stunt plane’s smoke run. Working quickly but carefully, he pried the sword back and forth, then turned the blade, making first a second, then a third and fourth cut. When he was done, he stepped to the side, leaned on the sword, and the squarish section of panel popped out with a metallic ping. Still using his sword as an anchor, he thrust out with his right hand, aiming at the opening he had created. The fires came easily, ramped up into a thick and steady beam of plasma that lanced through the wound in the Sphere’s hull. John poured the fire in until he was sure the Sphere was dead, through and through. Then, he simply removed his sword from the hull, and he was flung away, in free fall.
He stayed that way, his old skydiving and combat parachute training coming back to him. He kept his body arched, with hands and arms splayed out to the sides to stabilize himself. His back was to the ground; he wanted to see this part. A second later, the Death Sphere exploded brilliantly; it reminded him of the Death Star explosion, the original one before they’d mucked everything up with digital effects. Satisfied—and knowing he was getting uncomfortably close to becoming a wet stain on the concrete below—he kicked his fires back on, propelling him back towards where Sera and the furball were.
There was a litter of Eagle parts on the ground beneath the furball—the snarl of aerial combat involving Sera and the robots. Impossible to say how many she had taken out, but there certainly would be good scavenging for those looking for souvenirs. Ah, you’re free, he heard her say calmly in his head, and at that same moment, an arrow of flame burst out of the middle of the scrum and Sera pulled up at his side. Shall we? It would please me to immolate them.
I’d love nothin’ better, darlin’—wait. We’re not done. He knew Sera had felt it, too; there were more Thulians, a complete second wave, about to leap out of the water and onto the docks. They were going to make a mad dash for the interior of the docks, split up into squads, and wreak as much havoc as possible. John got the sense that
they wouldn’t make the mistake of trying to take him and Sera head-on again. Time for somethin’ a little different. Ready to make an attack run of our own, darlin’? We’re gonna have to be fast.
More than ready. She waited for him to form his strategy in his mind, and nodded when she saw it.
“Angel Flight, get ready to make your run, previous target zone. Once you see the fire, you’re cleared hot. We’re gonna break north to clear out of your way. How copy?”
“Copy, Ural Smasher. Setting up now, we should be in place at your go sign.”
“On it. Smasher, out.” John glanced over to Sera, who was hovering at his side. He winked at her, then dove straight down. He knew that she was following, matching his speed, so he put on more. As they sped groundward, she began manifesting and casting spears, which strafed out ahead of her like fiery rockets (he had no idea how that was even possible but, well—it was Sera, after all) and hit the ground on either side of the now-massing troopers. Evidently they had expected the pair to be busily engaged with the Death Sphere and the Eagles. The Eagles were milling around uncertainly in midair—had Sera blinded them? At any rate, they were out of the picture for now as Sera’s spears made the troopers bunch up and aim their arm cannons skyward. Energy beams raced out to greet them, but Sera and John didn’t need to dodge much; the troopers didn’t have enough time to aim accurate shots at the small, moving targets dropping in on them.
Both John and Sera pulled up sharply at the last second, traveling perpendicular to the ground mere feet above the troopers and Wolves. John thrust both of his hands out below him, unleashing jets of billowing fire onto the massed Thulians. As soon as he and Sera were past the end of their ranks, the pair banked sharply to the right; at the speed they were going, it was only their reflexes and battle-sense that allowed them to navigate through the cranes and shipping containers that rushed to meet them. “Angel Flight, go!” he shouted.
Avalanche: Book Five in the Secret World Chronicle Page 24
