Fear rose in Cypher’s throat at the sight of the creature that followed Tritico. Smaller than the Tzrakas Wolf had fought in the warehouse, it lacked the bladed limbs, having instead two sets of triple clawed arms. It continually brushed them against its mandibles, its chitin-covered head shifting from side to side while a litany of atonal whistles, clicks, and twitters poured from its mouth. Cypher could almost understand its speech, as if it spoke a language he’d known years ago and had all but forgotten. He could tell that the bug was anxious and terrified of the fire, but also of Tritico.
“Lieutenant Deverrill, take Speaker X’AfayaFintus to the ship. I’ll finish up and join you momentarily.”
“Sir, is that wise? He’s an augie. He could easily overpower you.”
“I’m quite capable of taking care of myself, Lieutenant. If you would please escort the Speaker to safety.”
“But sir, my job is to protect you…”
Tritico spun to face Deverrill. His voice sliced through the lieutenant’s protests cleanly as a knife through a jugular. “Your job is to do as you’re ordered. If I have to tell you one more time, you will not be pleased with my reaction. Now, give me your needler.”
Deverrill lowered his gaze and passed the weapon to Tritico butt first. In the second it left his hand, Cypher reached for the slug thrower. The augie caught the movement and went for his other weapon, but he wasn’t quick enough. Cypher put two slugs into his chest, and then a third as he fell. He doubted it would kill him, but he needed to put him down long enough to deal with his nemesis.
Cypher sighted the weapon’s long barrel at Tritico. One between the eyes should do it. Even a Lazzinair couldn’t survive that, could he?
Tritico smiled, showing a broad expanse of white teeth. “I seem to remember being in a similar situation once before.” He stood relaxed, hands folded in front of him, the needler held loosely in one hand, but pointed at the floor. “Are you going to shoot me?”
“Yeah,” Cypher said and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
He squeezed it again, but still the weapon didn’t fire.
“Something wrong with your pistol?” Tritico asked. “It seemed to be working fine a few seconds ago. Perhaps you inadvertently engaged the safety. Go ahead, check. I’ll wait.” He began to pace with casual disregard for the pistol aimed at him. “You always took such meticulous care of your weaponry. In our dorm at the Academy I’d watch you spend hours disassembling your weapon, carefully inspecting, cleaning, oiling each component, then reassembling it. If there was the slightest problem, if something just didn’t feel right, you’d do it all over again. We missed many nights drinking with the other cadets because of your compulsions.” He shook his head and chuckled.
The sound spawned a shiver up Cypher’s spine. Once more he tried to squeeze the trigger, again with no results. This time he realized the problem was not with the pistol, but his hand. He wasn’t squeezing the trigger at all. Only the slightest movement of his finger would put an end to his tormenter, but nothing could force his digit to move. He clamped his other hand around the grip, adding its strength. His augmented fingers should have been able to crush the weapon in his hand, but he couldn’t so much as twitch his trigger finger. He began to shake.
Cold boiled up his brain stem, erupting into a mass of icy spiderlings swarming inside his skull, their feet piercing his brain like frozen needles. He screamed and swung the slug thrower to the side, fired off two shots, the weapon’s report ringing in his ears.
He turned the pistol back at that smiling face, but once again his hand refused to obey him. “You put another of those programs in me.”
“Of course. I know you too well, Old Friend. You’re far too dangerous not to have a way to control you. If this all went bad—as it obviously has—you would come looking for me, and I couldn’t have that. I needed a fail-safe, a muzzle to keep you from attacking me.” He raised the needler and leveled it at the bridge of Cypher’s nose. “I, of course, have no such restriction.”
__________
Fitz yelled into her comm, “Weiland, that figment of my imagination just slaughtered two of your men, and it’s headed in your direction. Get the Emperor as far away from here as possible.”
The Destroyer leaped on the wall, its spidery legs carrying it up the outside of the structure so quickly that it was halfway to the roof before Fitz reached the building.
“Lizzy, it’s coming up the back side of the building. As soon as it reaches the roof, unload on it with everything you have. Blow that sucker into the middle of next week.”
The outside walls of the Citadel were a smooth, polished plastcrete. Even with her gecko pads, she’d have to move carefully and check her grip often. Jumper’s plexisteel claws had no trouble finding purchase on the surface, and he scrambled ahead of her.
Fitz glanced up as the creature reached the roof and swarmed over the edge, giving her enough warning to grab for a more substantial hold on a window ledge. She clung to her perch as a missile burned by overhead, exploding among the trees in the park. The blast’s shock wave threatened to rip her from the wall. Lizzy’s autocannon opened up, its 50mm slugs gouging chunks out of the roof and sending them raining down the outside of the building.
Jumper squalled. “Crazy ship, she’s gonna kill us, not that monster.”
“Lizzy, did you get it?” Fitz asked.
“I’m afraid not, Colonel. That thing is too quick. You’d better hurry. It’s attacking the Praetorians now, and I can’t fire for fear of hitting them, or Ari.”
“Hold your fire. I’m coming up on the roof.” Fitz scurried the last few meters and crawled onto the roof. A comm link tower lay in twisted ruins, and bullet holes riddled all the environmental units and dishes. The assassin appeared to be the only thing Lizzy had missed.
Fitz crossed the roof, leaping across the debris, and hesitated at the far edge for her augmented senses to assess the situation on the landing pad. She tucked Jumper under one arm and dropped next to the Praetorian guarding Bartonelli and Pike, putting him down with one punch. She wrenched the pulse rifle from his hands as he fell, and passed it to Bartonelli. The merc popped up, using the general pandemonium to pull a knife from her boot and slice through Pike’s bonds. Fitz shoved the cat into Pike’s arms as she jumped away.
The creature caught up with Weiland and Ari before they reached the shuttle’s ramp. An arrogant ass he might be, but Fitz couldn’t fault the captain’s courage as he pushed Ari behind him, stood his ground and poured shot after shot into the monstrosity, without effect.
The creature swung at them, its blade hissing as it scythed through the air in a flat arc. Fitz launched into HK, pushing off with as much force as her muscles could generate. She bulled through the line of soldiers, thrusting them aside ruthlessly. All she could see was the slow arc of that blade splitting the air, growing closer to Ari with each passing nanosecond, while she seemed to be moving through molasses.
She covered the last few meters in a dive, crashing into Ari and knocking her backward. The blade sliced through Weiland, unimpeded by his armor, and passed centimeters above Fitz’s head, so close her threat assessment systems howled. Together the two women tumbled across the landing pad and into a retaining wall, Faydra squalling at the rough treatment.
Fitz pulled Ari to her feet. The creature stood between them and the shuttle, blocking their escape. That left going out through the building.
“Back inside,” she yelled at Bartonelli and Pike, pushing Ari toward the door as she called Lizzy. “We’ll take the lift down to the first floor. Meet us at the main entrance.”
“On my way, Colonel. I’ll meet you downstairs,” the ship called.
The few remaining Praetorians laid down covering fire as they raced for the entrance. As the Destroyer spun to face its new attackers, the creature’s tail whipped around and caught Ari, driving her down hard. Faydra flew out of her arms, hit the rooftop, rolled, and went still.
Jum
per howled in rage, struggling in Pike’s hands until the lieutenant released him. The cat streaked through the melee, dodging between scrambling feet. He leapt onto the creature’s tail, found claw holds in the chitinous armor, and scrambled up its back until he reached the head. He sunk his lethal plexisteel claws into its right eye.
The Tzraka’s warble of pain sent a cascade of shivers through Fitz. It thrashed, clawing at its face and trying to rip its tormenter away, but Jumper eluded its grasp and leapt clear. He raced to Faydra’s side, grabbed her limp form by the scruff of the neck, and dragged her to safety.
Pulse rifle in hand, Bartonelli guarded their retreat. She noticed a panicked guardsman pull a small object from his belt and toss it toward the Tzraka.
“Grenade,” the merc shouted.
To Fitz’s heightened senses, the small metal object floated down to the landing pad, bounced, and rolled toward the creature. Its stumbling feet caught the grenade and deflected it. The sphere rolled across the pad and came to rest under the tail of the shuttle.
“Everyone inside,” Fitz screamed, then commed the pilot of the shuttle. “Take off; you’re sitting on a live grenade.” The Praetorian pilot must have been watching the battle; she had the thrusters rammed to full throttle before Fitz finished her sentence.
Pike snatched up the two cats and raced into the building, one under each arm. Fitz shoved Ari inside and followed, motioning for the two remaining Praetorians to hurry. The shuttle fought to gain altitude.
They all ran out of time. The grenade exploded.
The paranoia of DIS was all that saved them. The double-paned armorglass of the door was thick enough to withstand an augie assault, so it held against the explosion—except for the open door. Fitz’s augmented speed allowed her to duck behind the armorglass, missing the bulk of the concussive force, but it still knocked her across the room and buried her in debris. The guardsmen hadn’t been so lucky. The pieces of aircraft wreckage raining down told her the shuttle hadn’t either. Weiland’s arrogance and prejudice had resulted in his and his entire team’s death.
She sat up, pushed aside a chunk of ceiling tile, and raked her fingers through her hair, dislodging flakes of insulation. Bartonelli offered her a hand up. Hunched over, she tried to catch her breath, arm wrapped protectively about her abdomen. Bartonelli eyed her, concern wrinkling her brow.
“Sergeant, call a lift car,” Fitz said.
“Not working, Chima. We had to use the stairs earlier.”
“They’re due to start demolition on this building tomorrow,” Ari said. “I’m surprised anything functions,”
Kicking aside the rubble scattered across the floor, Fitz peered through the open door leading into the stairwell. Red light strips over each exit provided the only illumination.
“The power’s out except for emergency lighting?”
“Yeah,” Bartonelli said. “We had hand lamps when we went down, but those Praetorians took them away from us when they took our weapons.”
Fitz pulled her single light from her belt and tossed it to the sergeant. “Take point. Ari and Pike, behind her. I’ll watch our six. Let’s move.”
“You okay, Chima? Both of you?” the merc asked.
“Both?” asked Ari, arching a copper eyebrow.
“Yeah. She’s pregnant,” Bartonelli said before Fitz could stop her.
Ari’s laughed. “One thing you can say for Wolf, he’s potent. Does that make us sisters or something?”
“No, but it makes me still responsible for getting you out of here alive. Double time it.”
When she got Ari back to the imperial residence and guarded by people she trusted, she’d be free to link up with Wolf. She should be there with him. Her gut clenched at the thought of him facing Tritico alone, and Cypher in the mix didn’t comfort her one little bit.
Jumper growled a warning. As she turned to see what had spooked him, she caught movement out on the landing pad in the corner of her vision. A pile of debris shifted, pieces tumbled down its sides, then fountained upward as the Destroyer pushed to its feet.
___________
A series of explosions ripped through the warehouse, swaying the floor beneath Cypher’s feet. The groan of a dying leviathan ended in a crash that blew what remained of the door into the warehouse down the hallway, riding a wave of flame. The Tzraka’s chittering grew increasingly frantic.
“I’m sorry, Old Friend, but it’s time to end this now.” Tritico’s smile didn’t look the least bit sorrowful.
“I’m not your old friend,” Cypher shouted. “Just some flunky whose life you stole so you could wage your stupid little war. It isn’t my fucking battle.”
“You were a nothing, only a coward of questionable moral judgment,” Tritico said. “But I needed your weakness to off-set his strength. The amalgam of those two personalities formed the being you so aptly named Cypher, and gave me just enough control to force you to do my bidding. You should be happy. For a few days you were given a taste of ultimate superiority, a chance to live an existence few men could imagine. The weakling you were created from could never have dreamed of such power. You should thank me for giving you a glimpse of godhood.”
The iciness inside Cypher’s skull boiled away in a flash of anger. In its place, a darkness roiled with a tightly-controlled rage that felt familiar.
Dammit, it’s about time you showed up.
One by one, all his augmentations began to shut down. Sounds receded, and his multi-spectrum vision disappeared, plunging him into a dim red-lit room clotted with smoke. The inhead display flickered and vanished, leaving him feeling Normal and naked.
“You sure the hell ain’t no god, asshole. Maybe I can’t kill you, but he can.” Cypher reached up, pulled the spike out of the back of his head.
And ceased to exist.
__________
“That bastard ain’t dead yet?” Jumper squalled.
“Let’s move it, people.” Fitz herded everyone into the stairwell and followed, slapping the controls on the door. Nothing happened. No power. To the left of the opening, the cover for the manual override controls hung open, probably how the workmen were getting in and out. She pumped the handle, but the hydraulics responded sluggishly, moving the door only a centimeter at a time.
The creature turned its ruined face toward her, regarding her with its remaining green eye. Gone was its blinding speed; it moved like an arthritic old dog, placing each foot carefully. One lower arm hung useless at its side, but both blades flicked out as it lurched toward her.
Fitz tried to force the handle to move faster, but knew that if she pushed too hard with her enhanced strength, she ran the risk of breaking the lever and then they’d all be screwed. As the Destroyer squeezed its bulk through the outer door, she fired several shots with the slug thrower, hoping to at least slow it down. It twitched with each impact, but little more. The kill shot just below the second set of arms didn’t seem to work with this creature. Where was its vulnerable spot? Did it even have one?
The door crept the last few centimeters and closed, but without power there was no way to lock it. Fitz rammed her foot into it full force in hopes of jamming the mechanism, and raced after the others. Several landings below her, she could see the bobbing light of Bartonelli leading her party downward. “Don’t go beyond level one,” she called after them, then switched to her comm. “Lizzy, we’re coming out hard and fast; get those lobby doors open for us.”
“And how am I supposed to do that, Colonel? The main computers controlling the building’s security aren’t functioning.”
Fitz grumbled. Not very imaginative for someone who was so gung ho to use her weapons a few minutes ago. “A Sagaris small diameter missile should work nicely.”
“Oh, of course, Colonel.” An explosion rattled the building before the ship finished speaking. “There, the way is open. I’m beginning to derive a great deal of satisfaction from blowing things up.”
No shit, Lizzy.
Ari waited for her
at the next landing. “What was that explosion?”
“Just opening the front door.”
A crash from back up the stairwell warned Fitz that the Destroyer had made it past her makeshift lock. To her enhanced hearing, its breathing sounded ragged, its steps faltering and grinding like rusty hinges, but it kept coming, driven by a need to kill, by a hatred bred into its very cells.
“Why doesn’t that thing give up and die?” Ari asked.
“It can’t, not until it’s killed you.”
“Sorry, but I won’t oblige it there.”
Squeals broke out overhead, and a frantic thrashing. Red light reflected from chitin and blades as the creature tumbled down the stairs toward them, fighting to regain its balance. Fitz hooked Ari’s arm and pulled her along at a speed just short of HK. Bartonelli and Pike waited in front of a door displaying a large number one.
“It’s locked,” the sergeant said.
From the sounds drifting down the stairwell, the creature had regained its footing, and was coming closer by the second. No time to pry off the manual override’s cover. A more direct method would have to do. She pulled a grenade from her belt pouch and adjusted the settings. It had to be powerful enough to blow the door without pulverizing them in this enclosed space. If it managed to wipe out their Tzraka friend at the same time, so much the better. She set the timer.
“Go down a couple of landings. Try to find some cover.”
“But you said not to go below this point,” Pike said, his pupils huge and dilated with fear and darkness.
“Unless you’d rather go up and join that bug. Now run.”
Pike took off down the stairs, Faydra cradled against his chest while Jumper clung to his back, plexisteel claws sunk into his armor. Fitz followed. Bartonelli and Ari were two landings down, huddled in a corner. She tackled the lieutenant, ignoring Jumper’s protests. They landed on the pile of bodies as the explosion blew down the stairs and shrapnel clattered around them. Light flooded into the darkness, streaming in from the lobby through the now open door.
Cypher (The Dragon's Bidding Book 2) Page 29
