by M. R. Forbes
“Boom,” Sho said.
“Boom,” Flores said.
Washington slammed his fist down into his palm.
“Exactly. With any luck, we get all four of them with one shot.”
“And you didn’t want to be in charge, Sarge?” Sho asked.
“I wish I had thought of it sooner. I’m doing my best to do the right thing for the people in Metro, and for my team.”
“We know, Alpha,” Flores said. “We’re all doing the best we can with this chaos. Screw the trife.”
“Let’s not waste any more time. We need to take the long way around to get to the hangar. I want the trife off my ship, Marines. And I want it now.”
Chapter 20
The Guardians didn’t run into any opposition on the way to the hangar. They traversed the passageways and stairwells as if they could run into trouble at a moment’s notice. Travel through the ship was eerie and tense, the dim, motion-activated lighting keeping their nerves taut as they covered the distance between the port hatch into Metro and the main hangar on Deck Thirty, near the stern. Only one deck below was the destroyed Marine module and armory.
They paused every thirty seconds, listening for the unmistakable clicking of trife claws on the metal floor, as well as the tapping of boots – either Riley’s or those of the Cerebus. Caleb continued hoping Riley would turn up again. There was a chance she had escaped David Nash since she seemed to know at least some of the layout of the maze of maintenance passages spread behind the ship’s main corridors. If she managed to duck into one unseen, he had no doubt she could sneak away from David.
But would she know where to find them?
She would know it was too dangerous for them to continue the chase. She would agree they had a bigger responsibility to the rest of the colony. It didn’t sit well with Caleb to leave someone behind – not at all – but he had done it without hesitation because he understood what was at stake. There were forty-thousand souls behind those sealed hatches, waiting for someone to let them out somewhere they could thrive.
He wasn’t going to let them down. Not for anything.
He stretched his shoulders for the hundredth time, hearing them crack as he worked out the kinks the Reaper had caused. It was going to hurt even more tomorrow, so he wanted to finish the mission today. He was fortunate the Reaper’s claws had hit the armor instead of catching the bodysuit. The hardened plates had deep gouges in them from the attack, but hadn’t been penetrated.
The Guardians remained silent as they reached the bow facing the hatch into the hangar. The corridor they were in was taller and wider than any others in the ship, having served as the primary access corridor between the outside of the Deliverance and the main hold where Metro was built. Caleb had only witnessed the construction in fits and starts between missions, but he could still remember watching them lift the prefabricated blocks into the hangar, where they were placed on the wide, flat loaders and transported across the deck to an equally large maintenance lift. He had never personally seen the process after that, but he had heard the blocks were moved to the lifts, brought up into the hold, and then manually carried across the city, where they were put into place by workers wearing Strongman exosuits. Caleb had seen the suits in the hangar during the fighting. They were incredibly useful for hard, heavy labor. They were too power-hungry and slow though to be worthwhile in a fight.
“Let’s hope the door still works,” Sho said, moving ahead of the group to activate the control panel.
“Stay alert,” Caleb said. “If I were a Reaper, I might like to hide down here.”
The door made a loud clunking noise, and then slowly began to spread apart, whining as it did. It made it almost a meter before the whining turned to grinding, and the door froze in place, stuck.
“It sort of works,” Flores said.
“Good enough,” Caleb said. “Wash, take point. Eyes open.”
Washington moved ahead, fearlessly approaching the partial opening. The hangar was dark behind it, a large portion of the overhead lighting likely destroyed when the armory had blown. He raised his P-50 and stepped into the hangar, sweeping left and right. Smoke began to waft out from the freshly opened door, the smell of burnt ordnance heavy in it.
Washington raised his hand and waved them in, signaling the entrance was clear. The rest of the Guardians joined him just inside the malfunctioning hatch.
“Nice work, Alpha,” Flores said, motioning to the debris spread across part of the floor and over some of the vehicles in the vast space.
Caleb looked up. There was an irregular opening in the ceiling, nearly ten meters across and four meters wide. It was smaller than the armory as a whole and the damage was less extensive than he had been expecting, proving the lightweight alloy they had used to build the ship was stronger than it looked or felt.
“Not too bad, all things considered,” he replied. His eyes dropped, scanning the rest of the hangar. It was too dim to see more than a short distance ahead, but it was probably for the best. Entering the hangar brought back bad memories, both of the fight against the trife in the space, and of the cleanup the Guardians had done before entering hibernation. There had been so many bodies of so many Marines. Marines he had lunched with in the mess, worked out with in the gym, played basketball with, trained with. And of course there had been trife. Too many to count. He could still recall the smell of the hangar when they had entered it the first time, the stench of death, both human and alien. It made him feel nauseous again now.
He swallowed the bile rising into his throat, glancing at the other Guardians. They wore their expressions of pain and difficulty as they stepped lightly through the space. There were still stains on the floor they had no way of removing, and none of them wanted to desecrate the ones that had been made with human blood.
“Stay alert,” Caleb repeated. “Sho, take the stern side with Washington. Flores, you’re with me. We’ll meet up in the middle. We need to find the ADC and the builders. Knock the floor to check in. Sixty seconds.”
“Roger that,” Sho said, speeding up to reach Washington’s side.
They quickened their pace, bypassing the rows and columns of equipment to cross to the opposite end of the hangar. Caleb and Flores turned to the right and went into the midst of the first group of machinery. Two of the long, wide, flat transporters were on their left, while the bulkhead to the right was lined with at least fifty Strongman exosuits followed by a series of metal storage crates. Caleb only opened one of the crates, finding it stocked with neatly organized groupings of smaller construction materials, mainly bolts and screws.
He felt the vibrations on his feet and heard the thumping when Sho and Washington reported in. He turned his P-50 over and smacked the stock into the floor to respond.
Caleb and Flores reached the end of the first row and crossed between the transporter and the back wall. The second grouping of equipment was a lot more promising. He spotted the builders right away, shorter than the transporters and rising to half the height of the ceiling. They had been attacked by the dirt and debris that had come down from the armory, and Caleb could only hope they hadn’t been too damaged by the explosion.
He bumped his stock on the floor, using morse code to spell out BUILDERS. Sho and Washington knocked back ROGER.
“I’m going up,” Caleb announced, reaching the side of the first builder. “Wait here and check in with Sho and Wash on schedule.”
“Roger that, Alpha,” Flores replied.
Caleb climbed the rungs on the side of the builder, up to the small cab. The machine had a large secondary booth behind it, and Caleb opened the door to it and ducked inside. The space was mostly taken up by the machinery that worked the crane above his head, but there were also storage racks containing smaller manual tools like rock cutters, and of course explosives. It might have seemed stupid to keep explosives near the moving parts of the builder, but the T-9 was incredibly stable without a detonator. Those were stored in a locked bin on a bottom rack
opposite the charges.
Caleb knelt down in front of the bin. The lock was external, thick and heavy and simple. It was meant as more of a warning not to open the bin without authorization than as a deterrent. All it took to snap the lock was a quick tug from his artificial hand.
He grabbed four detonators, sticking them in one of his SOS’s hardpacks. Then he stood and crossed back around the machinery to the rack with the explosives. A simple sliding chain-link door separated him from the T-9. He unlatched it and pulled it aside. Taking four of the dark-brown bars of the explosive, he left the cab.
Not even a minute had passed when he looked down to where he had left Flores. He saw only the floor beneath him.
She was gone.
Chapter 21
Caleb’s heart sped up, but he refused to panic. There had to be a reason she had wandered away from the builder without a word. Was it because Sho and Washington were in trouble? Why didn’t she say anything?
He jumped off the builder, letting his SOS absorb the impact. He knocked his rifle into the floor.
SITREP.
The knock came back immediately.
ADC.
They had found it. So where the hell was Flores?
“Flores,” Caleb said at normal volume, hoping she hadn’t gotten too far. “Flores, report.”
There was no response.
“Flores,” he said, a little louder.
Nothing.
Caleb hit his rifle on the floor.
SOS.
He heard Sho and Washington’s running feet a few seconds later, heading across the hangar. He ran out toward the end of the equipment to meet them and he froze as he cleared the vehicles. Flores was ahead of him, crossing the space in a direct line toward the open panel where the blast door’s manual controls were located.
“Flores!” he shouted.
She didn’t look back at him. She didn’t stop walking.
“Sarge?” Sho said, off to his right.
He had no idea what Flores was doing or why. If she opened the blast door, they were all going to die. Without the air filtration system active, even if they didn’t get sucked out into space they would suffocate in a hurry.
“We have to stop her!” he said. She was too far away for him to run her down, but he started after her anyway, raising his plasma rifle and switching it to bolt mode. The last thing he wanted to do was shoot her, but he might not have a choice.
Sho broke from her position, racing laterally across the hanger. She was closer to Flores than Caleb was, but not by much. Would she reach her in time?
Flores stopped suddenly, turning toward Sho, bringing her rifle up to a ready position. Sho tried to stop her momentum, to ease the threat before she got shot. Caleb kept going, only to have Flores turn on him instead. He brought his artificial limb up, getting it in front of his face as she squeezed the trigger, the plasma rifle belching heat from its muzzle. The gas was partially deflected by the armor and the arm beneath it, burning through the SOS.
As Caleb rolled away from the plasma bolt. Flores spun back toward Sho as she tried to close on her. A loud crack like thunder sounded from across the hangar. Flores’ head turned slightly, and she dropped to the floor.
Caleb got up and rushed over to her, falling on his knees at her side, joined by Sho a moment later. A line of fresh blood was running from her temple area where the round had grazed her. He put his fingers against her neck, feeling for a pulse. She was alive. He turned his head to look back at Washington, who was walking toward them. He gave the big Marine a thumbs up, and Washington returned it.
It was a near impossible shot, especially with the way Flores had been moving and without the ATCS targeting to assist with the aim. But Washington rarely missed.
“We don’t have any patches,” Sho said.
“Just put pressure on it,” Caleb replied. “It isn’t too deep.”
“What the hell was she doing?”
“I don’t know. If I had to guess, I would say she was hallucinating.”
“Her too? Shit, Sarge. Did the stasis make us all insane or what?”
“I don’t know, but I feel like all signs point back to Riley Valentine and David Nash.”
“Roger that.”
“Wash, help me get her to the ADC. We made enough noise to attract a Reaper if there are any nearby.”
Washington hurried the rest of the way over, gently scooping up Flores and running back to the ADC with Sho and Caleb. The ADC was long and low and covered in thick armor, with half a dozen drones mounted to the top of it. The back ramp was already down, revealing a control center inside, six chairs with six terminals and joysticks to control the drones. The drones were supposed to be used as part of the expected exploration of their new home, but like the builder’s explosives, they needed them for another purpose right now.
Forced to duck low to fit inside the vehicle, Washington brought Flores on board. Sho and Caleb joined him, and Caleb hit the button to close the ramp once they were all inside. The ADC was designed to be a protective shell for the pilots, able to withstand all but the most violent trife attack. If a Reaper was nearby, they would be able to wait it out here. Not that Caleb wanted to wait it out. Flores’ actions had made him more impatient than ever.
Sho slumped in one of the pilot seats, sighing deeply. Washington lowered Flores into another chair, holding her so she wouldn’t slide off it and putting fresh pressure on the wound.
“Let me know when she comes to,” Caleb said, moving past them, through the small door to the cockpit. There were no windows in the ADC. Like the starship it was sitting in, the vehicle used cameras to see. Caleb sat in the driver’s seat and flipped the toggle to power up the ADC. A series of displays were mounted around the cockpit and they came to life, revealing the view outside. A secondary display just behind the steering yoke and a third display to its right also activated, offering control of the vehicle.
Caleb used the controls to switch the cameras to night mode, allowing them to see deeper into the poorly lit hangar. He swiveled his head, checking the perimeter.
His eyes stopped when he caught a glimpse of a dark form moving away from the area. It was humanoid. Two meters tall, give or take. It wasn’t a Reaper. It could have easily been Riley or David, but he only got a split second view of it before it was gone. With everything that was happening, he wasn’t sure enough that it was even real. It wouldn’t make sense for either person to trail them down here and then leave. He decided he was probably seeing things or jumping at shadows.
He continued to watch the screens for a few more minutes. There was no other motion outside the ADC. No sign of any other life, human or otherwise. He closed his eyes and breathed out, giving himself half a second to relax.
“Sarge,” Sho said, ducking her head into the cockpit. “She’s awake.”
Chapter 22
“Mariana,” Caleb said, entering the back of the ADC and squatting down in front of Flores. “How are you feeling?”
Flores’ eyes shifted to look at him. She blinked a few times as if she were trying to confirm what she saw.
“My head hurts,” she said.
Washington put his hand on her shoulder and then pointed to himself and made a face.
“He says he’s sorry he shot you,” Sho said. “But he had to do it. You were headed for the manual release on the blast door.”
“I was?”
“What’s the last thing you remember?” Caleb asked.
“We were scanning the hangar. You left me next to the builder while you climbed into it. Then I heard a voice calling me. It seemed so real. I was sure it had to be.”
“That sounds familiar.”
“Right. You heard voices too. It was like Poltergeist. I don’t remember anything after that. You said I was trying to open the blast doors?”
“It seemed that way. When we tried to stop you, you attacked us.” Caleb held up his arm, showing her the destroyed part of his SOS. “If my arm weren’t already meta
l, it would be toast right now.”
“It doesn’t look like the plasma damaged that alloy at all, Sarge,” Sho said, getting a better look at it.
“Lucky for me whatever it’s made from can take a beating. I’d probably be dead otherwise.”
“I’m so sorry, Alpha,” Flores said. “I don’t know what I was doing, or why I did it. I don’t remember.” She looked at Washington. “Thanks for not killing me.”
He smiled and flashed his thumb.
“Getting knocked out affects short-term memory. I’m not surprised. In any case, it isn’t your fault. Whatever is causing the hallucinations got to you too.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“I agree. At least now we know it’s not only something wrong with me. If it’s affecting you too, it could hit any of us.”
“At any time,” Sho said. “How are we supposed to operate like that?”
“We don’t have a choice. It was my mistake to leave you alone, Mariana.”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Alpha. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
“Now we do. From here out we stick together, pairs at a minimum. No exceptions.”
“Roger that, Sarge,” Sho said.
“Good work finding the ADC so fast. I was watching the feeds from outside. There’s no sign of Reaper activity, so maybe our luck is changing a bit. Wash, did you find the toolkit yet?”
Washington nodded, pointing to the last seat in the vehicle. A large box of tools was sitting on it.
“Perfect. Washington and I will go outside the ADC to start taking the wings off one of the drones. There are two seats in the cockpit. Sho, you and Flores stay inside and keep an eye on things. We’ll take headsets out with us, but don’t use the comm unless you see something big and ugly coming our way.”
“Roger that.”
Caleb moved back past the two Marines. Each of the pilot stations had headsets resting on the control surface, used to both listen to the audio stream the drones were transmitting and to communicate with the other pilots. He grabbed two of them and tossed one to Washington. Then he pulled the retractable ladder down from the center of the space and climbed up to the top hatch. He unlocked it and swung it open, climbing out onto the roof of the vehicle.
