Having witnessed what she just did, he was starting to understand why so many revered the Aegi. “Nice weapon.” He grimaced as he moved. “I’ve never seen anything like that.”
“It’s an angel-class unit. Advanced Aegi hardware.” She showed him her SIG. “State-of-the-art spectral communicator. Compact multi-wave sensor array. The starblade can extend up to three feet, but the bigger it is and the longer I use it, the faster it drains my batteries.”
“I’m in the wrong job. Maybe you can get me one of those?”
“If we get out of this mess, I’ll think about it.” She flashed a fanged smile as she kneeled to check on the fallen Marine. Eline signaled that he was dead and Grimshaw gestured for her to take anything useful.
O’Donovan pulled the living Marine to his feet as the rest of the squad approached.
He appeared to have difficulty breathing.
Grimshaw checked his insignia. “What’s your name, Lance Corporal?”
“Name’s Dale, sir. Jake and I…” He struggled to breathe and swallowed hard. “Sorry, sir.”
“Take your time, Dale.”
The Marine took a few moments to calm himself.
“Sergeant Wallace sent us to escort you to Gate Six. The Chits have been leaving the city…amassing outside Sector Seven. There’s a path higher in the hills. Didn’t get a chance to tell you on the radio as they hit us…Takes longer, but it angles further from the excavation. We went undetected until just over that hill… ran into those two elites. Think they were scouts.”
“Elites are what you call the big ones, right?”
“Yes, sir…they’re tough sons of bitches. Don’t die as easily as the smaller ones. We call those buzzers. They make a horrible noise when they fly.”
“They can fly?” O’Donovan said with unmasked consternation.
“Elites can jump pretty high. The buzzers tend to fly a few feet off the ground. They’re like damn bugs.”
Grimshaw put his hand on the Marine’s shoulder. “There were only two of these elites?”
“As far as we could tell, sir.”
“What’s the latest back at the city?”
“They were mopping up the last few Chits at Gate Six.” Dale swallowed. “That’s when the Sergeant sent Jake and I through. We’re…we were…the fastest.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No, sir. Just exhausted. I should be good in a few minutes.”
“Understood.” Grimshaw turned to O’Donovan. “Good shooting there, O’Donovan. Take care of this Marine. Get nutrition and fluids into him. We rest for twenty then we move.”
Eline handed Jake’s tags to Dale, and O’Donovan reached over to guide the Marine into the shade.
Grimshaw walked to Eline as she checked one of the elite’s remains. Mandibles jutted from under its helmet, and its visor stared into the sky. If he had to describe the alien, Grimshaw would have called it an over-sized ant crossed with a mantis, but when alive it had moved very much like a typical bipedal. “Find anything?”
“Look at this.” She peeled away a damaged panel of the creature’s abdominal armor and revealed a bubbling, smoking liquid.
“The hell is that?”
“Not sure, but it looks like accelerated decomposition. I’ll take samples for analysis later.”
Grimshaw picked one of their energy rifles off the ground. It was deceptively heavy: at least twice as heavy as a standard Confederation phase rifle.
“How the hell do they carry these things?” He struggled to lift it to shoulder height with both hands. “Feels like it’s been fashioned from solid lead.”
“Seems like they can lift heavier loads than we can.”
“No trigger either.” He searched the grip. “Not that I can see anyway.”
“Could be they activate their weapons using something like psi energy or pheromones.” Eline shrugged, tucking the samples she’d collected into a TEK compartment.
“Brain waves or chemicals…” Grimshaw turned the weapon in his arms. “I’ll have O’Donovan carry it. Maybe we’ll learn more if we can get it under the right eyes.”
“What now?” Eline said, poking the dead alien.
“From what Dale said, we should be able to reach Gate Six without being seen.” He adjusted the temperature control in his tactical exoframe. “But we’ll need to hurry.”
“We would have found the other path last night had we not been in such a hurry to get back to camp.”
“One must understand that speed is the greatest necessity in war.” He smiled.
Eline looked had him, surprised. “Did you just quote Alrina Galatz? I didn’t know you read Shanti literature.”
“I’ve picked up a few words over the years.”
Eline regarded the sky. “Clouds rarely appear in Shantalla’s skies, and the canopy is purple most of the time.”
“You grew up on Shantalla?”
“I grew up on Claracia,” she said with a sigh, still looking at the sky. “But I spent three years training on Shantalla. Our home-world is much…nicer than our colonies.”
Grimshaw followed her gaze to the dull blue patches breaking through the clouds, and for a moment he longed for Earth’s blue atmosphere. As soon as I get off this planet, I’ll pay Earth a visit.
He had to stay alive first and that meant not getting stuck in the hills after dark. There was no telling how the invaders behaved at night or what they had planned. Grimshaw had to get his team inside Targos City’s walls.
Dale guided them higher into the hills, following a winding route over steep slopes of loose shale. Near the top, Briggs had lost his footing and almost tumbled to his death, but Grimshaw had caught him just in time.
They found a concealed dirt track narrower than the one they’d been on in the lower hills. It was easy to see how the scouts missed it, especially in the dark.
Progress was too slow for Grimshaw’s liking, but on the plus side, the geography provided ample cover despite the altitude. According to Dale, the new route would take them all the way to the outer walls of Sector Five where Chit activity was non-existent. From there, he claimed that they could use the wall’s supports for cover while skirting their way to Gate Six.
The dirt track narrowed until it reached a precipitous ledge that gave way to a sheer drop on their left. The shelf offered an unobstructed view of the city’s western walls. Even from such a distance, Grimshaw could make out the scale of the damage. Irregular dark patches had replaced white buildings, and pillars of varying shades spiraled upward. Whereas the section of Sector Seven Grimshaw could see had almost been flattened, many of the buildings in Six still stood and Five looked almost untouched. The main walls had sustained damage too, but as far as Grimshaw could see they hadn’t been breached.
Eline and Dale crawled with Grimshaw as he led them further onto the lip to observe what was going on down below. The others rested further back in a depression the high winds had cut from the rock over time.
Grimshaw didn’t like what he saw. “Good thing you brought us this way, Dale.”
“Their numbers must have doubled since the early hours,” Eline muttered. “They’ve spread so close to Sector Six they’ve completely overtaken the path we were originally going to use. It would have been suicide.”
“I’m glad Sergeant Wallace sent us out,” Dale whispered.
The enemy had constructed a perimeter around a giant crater just beyond the walls of Sector Seven. What was inside that hole was anyone’s guess. “Looks like they want to keep people out of that hole,” Grimshaw suggested.
“Or keep something in the hole,” Eline said.
“As you can see, Gate Six is locked. Jake and I had to use a small maintenance hatch further along. You can’t see it from here.”
“Ship,” Briggs shouted over the short-band vox.
They pulled behind the rocks along the lip of the shelf.
Grimshaw waited before crawling as close to the edge as he could get without being spotted and watch
ed the black vessel descend toward the mass of Chits like a giant claw. Grimshaw wondered if it was the same ship that had attacked the Bakura.
It slowed as it reached the ground, its appendages easing into the hole like fingers. The swirling mass of Chits surged and converged on the cavern. It took Grimshaw a minute to work out that they were climbing onto the ship.
When the last of the gathered Chits had boarded, the ship’s thrusters fired, lifting back toward the sky, its appendages dragging an object, a third its size, out of the cavern.
Eline sidled up next to him and cautiously peered over the edge. “They’re leaving,” she said with some relief. “But what’s it lifting out of the hole?”
“Looks like a giant boulder,” Grimshaw said, astonished. “Whatever it is, it looks heavy. That ship must have an impressive amount of power.”
It didn’t help that the vessel’s finger-like structures and hard packed dirt obscured the object. Chunks of clay broke free and fell back to the ground as the ship rose toward the clouds.
Grimshaw waited for it to disappear into the firmament before opening a private channel to Eline. “The real question is, what the hell do these Chits want with it?”
“Not sure. But it could be the real reason they’re here.”
“Are you sure there isn’t something else I need to know?”
“Our mission has nothing to do with that thing or those creatures if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Don’t be shitting me, Aegis. I’ve already lost enough people, and I need to know what we’re up against.”
“We have nothing on record, Commander. I already told you everything I knew before the Bakura went down. We can’t talk in the open about it like this without risking the integrity of the mission. We need to reach Xerocorp Labs,” she added with a jab. “I know I can trust you, but I also know the Confederation has moles.”
“It’s too much of a coincidence.” Grimshaw’s eyes followed the trail the enemy vessel had left in its wake. “These invaders must have something to do with the prototype and leaked information.”
As if to answer him, distant thunder sounded from on high, announcing the ship’s departure.
Grimshaw scanned the plain below as the dust settled. “I’m not detecting anything down there. How about you?”
“Negative. No movement on the ground.” Eline’s channel clicked off and on again. “Looks like their signal jammers are still active. Some of them may have stayed behind.”
“We’ll proceed with caution,” Grimshaw agreed. “No telling what’s inside that hole or the city.”
Eline grunted her approval. “As you Terran’s like to say, better safe than sorry.”
He opened a squad-wide vox channel. “Move out people. And keep your eyes open. They may have left, but something tells me it can’t be that easy. Stay low and stick to cover.”
Grimshaw had a bad feeling, and if fighting in the Kragak War had taught him anything, it was that his gut was usually right. He prayed that this time, it was wrong.
19
Unlucky Number
The TEK fit much tighter than Randai remembered, highlighting just how much he’d let himself go over the years. The armor was flexible and would adjust given time, but the journey to Oldtown was less than comfortable. His bio-sign readings were less than pleasing, especially when compared with his stats from before the exoframe had gone into storage. Randai added getting back into shape to his ever-increasing list of tasks.
After giving the rediscovery of his old identity further thought, Randai had chipped the archangel badge and registration number off his TEK with his knife. Keeping the pseudonym for the time being would cause less problems.
He passed a noisy junkyard, surprised that it was still operating so late, and turned down an abandoned street. A light breeze blew by, and an animal screeched somewhere in the distance.
Randai checked his SIG to make sure he had the right place and raised his eyebrows. According to his directions, the neurological clinic stood right in front of him. To Randai, it looked like another rundown apartment complex.
Rickety metal steps creaked under his weight as he climbed toward the entrance. The rails were so orange with decay, he expected them to crumble at a touch. For a moment, Randai felt like someone was watching him from a window in one of the dilapidated buildings across the street. He turned quickly, but no one was there. Apart from vermin, a quick scan of the area came up clean. He picked up the pace and pushed a sticky call button on a console that looked like it no longer worked.
“Hello?” he said into the speaker.
“Eyes in the scanner,” a harsh voice demanded.
The immediate response almost startled him. His helmet retracted into his TEK’s collar, and Randai placed his face against the grimy screen above the console, hoping he wouldn’t catch some disease from touching the plastic rim. A red light swept across his retinas and the door buzzed. As he pulled the door open, it wobbled as though threatening to fall off its hinges. It slammed loudly, and he made his way to the end of a dark hallway that reeked of bleach and mold. From there, he entered a reception area where the stench of dirt and sweat replaced the moldy musk. It did little to inspire confidence in the establishment’s cleanliness.
He approached the reception desk and a Shanti girl, too young and pretty to be working in such a place, greeted him with a smile. “Welcome.”
Unlike whoever had spoken to him on the intercom, they girl’s words fell softly on his ears.
“I’ve got an immediate appointment for optical implant surgery,” he said.
“Of course, Mr. Kahn. We’ve been expecting you. Please complete this form.” She handed him an archaic compad, and Randai filled in the medical questionnaire before returning it.
“Take a seat in the waiting room.” She gave him a most wonderful fanged smile. “The doctor will call your name when he’s ready.”
Somewhat baffled, Randai ducked under a beaded archway and found himself in a stuffy, square space with a single row of seats lining one wall. A sign above a door on the other side of the room read ‘Clinic.’ The damp running down the walls and chunks of missing plaster made him question whether proceeding with the operation was such a good idea.
Four of the five seats were occupied by waiting patients. On the seat closest to him, a Rivarian smoked herb while nursing her baby. She offered a smile, which he took as a friendly gesture. Randai could never tell with Rivarians and their multiple rows of pointed teeth. He bowed his head in respect to be on the safe side.
An ancient Yalore, who looked like he was seconds away from falling apart, sat three seats in, and an overweight Varg took up the last two. The alien snorted aggressively and Randai looked away. He squeezed in between the Rivarian and Yalore, being careful not to knock the old man over. Randai was more than happy to sit as far away from the Varg as possible. He already had more than his fill of the race in recent days.
Looking around, further reservations about the procedure crept in, and he considered the possibility of completing the hit minus his implant. I would miss by a mile.
While in his prime, he could have made the shot without augmentation. At seventy, Randai had almost reached half his life-expectancy. Besides a lack of practice and fitness, taking such a shot unaided was a gamble, and gambling was what had gotten Randai into this mess in the first place.
“It’s okay, ya know,” the Rivarian clicked, flashing Randai a smile that he guessed was meant to be reassuring.
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t mean to intrude,” she said in a thick Underways accent. “I just wanted to let ya know that there’s no reason to be scared.” She winked as she took a drag of her herb. “Dr. Warsax is one of the best, ya know.”
“So I’m told.” The state of the doctor’s building said otherwise.
“I got my eyes done too. Nowhere near as good as what ya’ve got there.” She leaned in close for him to look, her burning rollie almost touching his face. �
�Dr. Warsax runs a maintenance check on my implant once a year.”
He looked into her green disks and noticed the subtle shift under her large pupils. “P75s aren’t bad. Where’d you get those?” He instantly regretted the question. It was unlikely that an Oldtown resident had obtained such expensive hardware by legitimate means.
“Daddy left ‘em for me when he died. Got ‘em off of his rich friends o’ his. At least he use ta be rich before gamblin’ his life away.” She blew a puff of smoke, and he stifled a cough. “Are you in for maintenance too?”
“Something like that.” He cleared his throat.
“Ya know, I don’t recognize ya. From out of town?”
“Just passing through.”
“Ah, one of those. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I see people from other districts in here from time to time. Even saw an Urlock once.” She leaned in to whisper. “I’m pretty sure he was a Black Robe. I can tell these things, ya know. But don’t tell anyone I said that.”
“I won’t.”
“Why, aren’t ya such a dear?” She held the rollie in the corner of her mouth and offered the back of her hand. “Name’s Peenna Shakarah, by the way.”
Randai reached out and shook her hand awkwardly. “Randai Kahn.”
“Pleased to meet ya, Randai. This your first time in Oldtown?”
“Yes.” He fought the urge to check the time on his SIG.
“Do ya know why they call it Oldtown?”
“Never really thought about it.” He’d never been one to look into places where he didn’t want to be. “Because it’s old?”
“That’s what most people think. And it is the oldest of the districts down here.” She lowered her voice. “But the real reason they call it Oldtown is because all the old people come here to die.” She eyed the dozing Yalore.
Now that she mentioned it, Randai had wondered why he’d rarely seen old folks in Bometown or the rest of District Sixteen.
“We get a lot of desperate people too. Like criminals the gangs in the other districts don’t want to deal with.” She offered him a drag.
The Galactic Sentinel: Ultimate Edition: 4 Books with 2000+ Pages of Highly Entertaining Sci-Fi Space Adventure Page 14
