It was true. There really was no arguing. Katya Zharova was the least powerful protocol user in the Program, and by far the most capable and deadly. She was also a committed drinker, with a voracious appetite and a mind almost as filthy as Renton. There was little not to like.
“How?”
“Hush. Later.”
Alex shut up. Katya was the closest thing he had to a friend in the Program, and anyway, who would argue with a girl who made her living teleporting needles into critical portions of other people’s anatomy?
He crouched in the sand behind Katya, fingers sinking into the wet grit, and waited for something to happen. It was an oversight to the Program, he decided – one of a very few – that while the instructors did a fairly thorough job of simulating the pain and anxiety of a real combat op, nothing prepared Alex for the long periods of boredom that bookended brief episodes of conflict and terror. Alex ran through a series of subtle stretches to relieve the pressure on his thighs and lower back. The wind picked up, and cold worked its way through the waterproof base layer he wore beneath his fatigues. The crashing of the breakers obliterated any sound aside from the steady onslaught of the sea against the shore, and the moon’s wan light didn’t allow him to distinguish anything further than a few meters away, aside from the hulking silhouette of the cliffs.
“Next time you are carrying your own shit,” Alex whispered, leaning close to Katya so she could hear him over the waves. “How did you talk me into carrying everything, anyway?”
“You were overwhelmed by my irresistible charm. Also, I need my hands free to babysit your helpless ass. Now, shut up, okay?”
Alex rocked back onto the soles of his feet and scanned the shoreline fruitlessly, letting his mind wander.
He wondered where Eerie was, what she was doing right now. They had departed Central in the unreasonably early morning, around two o’clock, but there had been two apports, a short flight in a small prop plane, and a seemingly long boat ride since then, so Alex was unsure what time it was back in Central. If he had to guess, then he would have assumed it was late afternoon or evening, which meant that Eerie was probably on the bus returning from her shift at Processing, or already back at the little house she shared with a handful of other “exceptional circumstances” residents – meaning those students deemed too dangerous or alien to house with the rest of the student body – sitting in front of her computer in her messy room with headphones clamped over her ears, or knitting on her couch, pausing occasionally to pour the contents of a Pixy Stik on her artificially colored tongue.
Alex missed her, and took a measure of comfort from that. It meant something, he was sure of it – the loneliness he felt apart from her brought a measure of normalcy to what he thought of as their relationship. However much of a relationship he could have with a half-human, half-Fey hybrid whose emotions and motivations were virtually opaque, anyway. All he knew for sure was that he would have been happier lying with her on the slightly too-small surface of her couch, half-asleep and dreading the alarm that would wake him to return to his room before curfew.
Either Miss Aoki made no noise when she moved, or the waves disguised the sound, because she seemed to materialize out of the darkness in front of Katya, startling him, Haley nothing more than a shimmering image floating over her shoulder. A moment later, Neal’s disembodied voice broadcast across the group telepathic channel that he was hosting for them, with the detached tone common to all telepathic communication. Typically, Haley or Mitsuru handled their telepathic channel, but apparently they were giving Neal a tryout for the support team.
Channel active and secure, Miss Aoki.
Acknowledged. We are through the minefield, kids. Assume assault formation, I’m on point. Advance cautiously – I’ve cleared and marked a path to the facility, but there are still active screamers and proximity alerts if you stray. I’m going ahead, to flank and interface with Xia, then create a diversion. Questions?
There were none. There never were. Miss Aoki on campus was detached and remote, but vaguely approachable if you caught her at the right moment, or had a serious question. Miss Aoki in the field, on the other hand, was entirely different animal. The enthusiasm that permeated her demeanor was genuinely disturbing.
We do this just like the simulation. Once inside the perimeter, keep your heads down, locate and secure a point of entry. Xia and I will ensure their attention is elsewhere. When entry is secured, hold for instructions. Move out in five.
Miss Aoki leaned close to Katya briefly, then walked to where Alex crouched and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Nice and smooth, Alex. Just like the drills,” she whispered, close enough that he could see the red tint in her eyes. “You good?”
Alex nodded. He was too nervous to chance words. Miss Aoki nodded back and moved down the line to Min-jun. Alex glanced back a moment later, but she had already disappeared – using a downloaded apport protocol to meet Xia somewhere nearby, no doubt. Min-jun crept forward to join Katya and Alex, and the three of them huddled together, staring off into the dark. Haley had floated away, but was presumably overhead, invisibly monitoring.
Adding remote-viewing interface...now.
Neal sounded a little uncertain. It was likely his first time channeling remote-viewing information telepathically in anything other than a training simulation. Alex’s vision blurred and he experienced a brief ache behind his eyes. He blinked a couple of times, and then it was there – a glowing blue path, about a meter wide, winding up the beach. At the end of the path, nestled at the base of the dark cliffs, a skeletal blue outline showed the location of the facility protruding from the rock.
“’Bout time,” Katya groused quietly, shaking needles from an old film container into the palm of her hand. Alex knew from experience that she had more tucked into the headband that held her hair back, and another reserve concealed in the lining of the waistband of her fatigues. “I’m freezing my ass off. You ready for this, oppa?”
Min-jun grinned and nodded.
“Very much so, Katya. I’ve been looking forward to seeing you in action.”
Alex was certain that Min-jun and Katya knew each other prior to the Korean’s return to the Program from field study. Min-jun had graduated from the Academy three years earlier and had since been working as an Operator-in-Training for Central, while Katya had skipped the Academy entirely until recently, as she was enrolled in (and then, apparently, expelled from) the Black Sun’s assassination training. Nonetheless, they interacted with a professional familiarity from day one, and Katya adopted the mysterious term of endearment for Min-jun not long after. Alex had yet to work up the courage to ask what it meant.
Then again, what did he know? The politics and divisions in Central were complicated, and personal relationships impossibly so.
“What about you, Alex? Still worried about that guard?”
He was careful not to glance at the ocean, where the body was still probably peacefully bobbing along. He kept his eyes on the telepathically illuminated path in front of him.
“No. I’m fine,” Alex said, secretly pleased that his voice was steady. “Be happier when this is over.”
“Good man,” Katya said, ruffling his hair in a gesture that he wouldn’t have tolerated from anyone else. “Stay focused. Kill anything that isn’t us. You’ll be fine.”
Alex didn’t answer. He didn’t need Katya’s reassurance. He probably did need her protection, but that wasn’t something to be thinking about right now. He was too busy trying to find the anger that had brought him here, that made investing himself in the combat track seem like a good idea in the first place. It wasn’t necessary for him to be angry in order to fight, or to use his protocol – actually, that seemed to make it all the more difficult – but he had discovered that it was impossible for him to be angry and frightened at the same time. Unfortunately, where anger at the Anathema had once burned, now all he could find was the image of the corpse floating peacefully on its back amongst the ro
lling breakers.
Mark. Five minutes. Move out, kids.
Miss Aoki’s orders were crisp and concise. For one dreadful moment, Alex was sure that his legs would give way beneath him, that he wouldn’t be able to walk – his fear had swelled to such epic proportions. But when Min-jun and Katya stood up, he did as well, almost automatically, and started forward, just behind Katya, before he had time to reconcile his situation with the anxiety that gnawed his insides.
“All clear,” Katya whispered, with a quick glance over her shoulder. “I don’t see anything at all on the beach. Let’s move. We’ve got a minute or so until our distraction...”
They hustled along in a shuffling half-crouch, feet dragging through wet sand. The pack seemed heavier than before. Alex kept his eyes focused on Katya’s back. He could hear Min-jun breathing heavily to his right and a little behind him. The information telepathically inserted into his vision marked a path up the beach that curved to meet the base of the cliff, then hugged along it for a hundred meters or so before approaching the facility. Katya urged them on, and Alex moved into a trot with difficulty, wet sand trying to pull the boots off his feet. The Glock in his holster bounced painfully against the point of his right hip, tritium night sights glowing softly, but he didn’t think he would end up using the pistol. When push came to shove, Alex had more confidence in his protocol than he did in his aim.
They reached the base of the cliff without incident. Five steps later, the incidents started.
The guards must have been on patrol, because if they had been there when Miss Aoki scouted their route, they would have been dismembered. Instead, they were waiting behind a rocky outcropping a few meters from the cliff face, in cover and partially concealed. They had night-vision gear, Type 05 submachine guns with flash suppressors and silencers, ballistics-rated Kevlar body armor, and the advantage of surprise.
It wasn’t anything like a fair fight.
The first burst sounded like the percussive hissing of some large animal from in front of them, hollow-point shells splattering into the sand all around. The muzzle flare was mitigated, but not enough to completely hide the guards’ position. The following bursts were more accurate; Alex felt the air displaced by a bullet that passed near his cheek, and Katya stumbled when the round embedded in the Spectra armor plate that protected her left lung. Then Min-jun activated his protocol, a faintly green, luminous field encapsulating the Operators in a protective dome. Bullets pinged and splintered harmlessly against the barrier.
It must have been the training. Alex didn’t seem to think at all, he just moved, scrambling to the edge of the barrier and then focusing on the point just to the left of the rock, where he could see the flicker of muzzle flash. There was no need to extend his arm, no distance to figure or angle to determine. His protocol did not need to be aimed, not when the protocol itself could detect the electromagnetic activity of the man’s thoroughly armored brainstem.
The Black Door opened easily on well-oiled hinges, and the cold on the other side came rushing in, causing Alex a brittle pain that was reminiscent of an ice-cream headache.
The blood partially froze in the guard’s carotid arteries while the surrounding tissue withered from internal frostbite. Behind a gas mask and bulbous night-vision goggles, the guard gagged and coughed as lethal blood-borne ice crystals permeated his brain. Alex watched neurons flicking off like light switches while the guard experienced a profoundly accelerated variety of brain death.
Alex turned his attention to the other guard, but the few seconds he had taken dealing with the first were enough for Katya to recover her bearings and charge forward, the barrier clinging to her like a laminate as she passed through the limits of the dome. Four steps were all she needed to clear the requisite distance, rounds glancing off the curved surface of the barrier that coated her. There were three sewing needles in her hand, and then there weren’t. There was no moment of transition.
The guard tried to cough, vomit, and clutch at his chest and head simultaneously, failing in all activities as he spiraled into shock, his heart, cerebellum, and brain stem all neatly impaled. He died on the ground, unable to breathe, twitching like a fish out of water.
Min-jun cautiously released the barrier, and Alex ran to Katya, who was wheezing and resting on one knee.
“You okay?”
“Fine,” she said, tugging the indented chest plate out of the pocket that held it in her snug vest and tossing it aside. She coughed and spat, one arm resting on Alex’s shoulder while she reoriented herself. “Fuck. Everybody must have heard that. No point in stealth, now...”
Min-jun arrived beside him, but Katya brushed away further attempts at help, straightening up and adjusting the vest that held the remainder of her armor plating, grimacing when it brushed against what must have been a nasty bruise, if not a broken rib. While the armor was more than capable of stopping a 9mm round, it wasn’t able to fully absorb the impact.
“Move out,” she grumbled. “We see any more, hit ’em hard and fast.”
They complied, running as fast as heavy loads and shifting sands would allow, reaching the cliff face and then following it toward the glowing, phantom installation. Alex peered fretfully at the darkness around them, willing his eyes to somehow illustrate his surroundings. Katya’s breathing was ragged; he could hear her laboring just ahead of him. He kept one hand on the crumbling rock of the cliff for balance, as level sand gave way to a rock-and-boulder-strewn maze. They had veered considerably from the path Miss Aoki had marked for them, and Alex hoped that there weren’t any countermeasures waiting for them to trip over.
For another thirty meters, almost half the distance to the installation, they made steady and quiet progress. Then the ground shook, dislodging pebbles and small rocks from the cliff face, followed by an immense fireball and then a tremendous explosion from the other side of the compound. Between breaths, Alex could hear the distant shouts, followed by the distinctive rattle and pop of small arms fire.
“Hurry!” Katya urged them on through gritted teeth. “We need to be there!”
There was no way of telling which of them tripped the alarm. The screamer was close enough that the sheer volume brought tears to his eyes and forced Alex to clap his hands to his ears.
The guard either came out of an alcove or the mouth of the tunnel. It was impossible to tell in the darkness. He emerged between Katya and Alex, holding a heavy semiautomatic in a two-handed grip. Judging from his body language, Alex guessed that he was as surprised by their presence as they were by his sudden appearance. The guard raised his firearm, meaning to shoot Katya in the back, but he was slowed by his mask and goggles. Katya dove for the ground as the gun went off, a quick double-tap, and then the guard spun.
Alex caught him in mid-turn with an instinctive tackle. They went down together onto the sand and the rocks, Alex landing on top, both struggling for control of the pistol. Alex had the presence of mind to drive his knee into the guard’s leg, one hand pushing the gun aside, the other prying the gas mask aside, where it would hopefully obscure his view. The pistol went off twice, the flare of hot gas creating blinding afterimages in Alex’s vision. Alex tried the knee again, catching the guard in the upper thigh and eliciting a grunt of pain.
The guard abandoned his gun and produced a serrated combat knife from a holster slung across his chest. Alex caught his arm as the guard swiped downward, aiming for Alex’s exposed face. He blocked the strike, though the knife sliced across the top of the knuckles of his right hand. There was no pain, but Alex’s hand was immediately slick with blood.
More gunfire nearby, from the direction Katya had dived. There was no time to worry about it, though Alex could hear bullets ricochet against the rock and hiss as they buried themselves in the sand. Alex kept a firm grip on the guard’s wrist to control the knife, forcing his other hand beneath the guard’s mask. The guard bit down on one of his fingers, and Alex yelled as he drove the point of his knee into his midsection. Alex scrambled, shif
ting weight so his hips pressed down on his opponent’s stomach, wrestling for the knife with one hand while clawing at his face with the other.
There was a gunshot right behind Alex, an ejected casing bouncing off the back of his head. The guard cried out again and dropped his knife, instead striking wildly at Alex about the head and arms. Alex used the opportunity to wrap both hands around his throat, digging both thumbs into his windpipe.
Alex was blinded by the flare of another gunshot, this one so close that he felt the heated gases passing by his cheek.
It took Katya a few moments of shaking him and saying his name before he finally realized the man had stopped struggling. Alex groggily released his grip on the guard’s throat.
She helped Alex up, his legs trembling and unsteady beneath him. The guard had been shot in the kneecap, with another rather neat bullet hole punched through the forehead of his rubber gas mask. Katya holstered her pistol and scanned the darkness ahead of them.
“C’mon, Alex,” Katya said, tugging him along by the fabric of his fatigues. “We need to keep moving.”
Another ten meters, and Alex got his bearings back, enough to wish rather frantically that he had refused to be a part of this operation. He wasn’t sure if he felt better that Katya had killed the guard that he had meant to strangle. He wasn’t even certain that he could blame his training for the impulse. While his time in the Program had left him trained and primed for combat, Alex worried that his tendency toward violence was rooted in some fundamental defect in his nature.
He kept moving, flash-blind eyes searching vainly for any sign of another ambush. Alex followed Katya, running until his chest ached, only remembering his injured finger when he tried to wipe the sweat from his eyes and instead smeared his face with blood.
They rounded a protrusion in the cliff face wall, and the superimposed image of the facility telepathically implanted in his vision was supplemented by the glow of halogen lights, still some thirty meters distant. Katya halted them for a moment, surveying the distance between hesitantly, before nodding and leading them across the remaining distance at a pace just short of a flat-out sprint. Whether by luck or design, they encountered no further alarms, and any remaining guards were wise enough not to make their presence known.
The Far Shores (The Central Series) Page 5
