We’re fighting the crew of the Churchill.
22
Horror pulls its black tendrils taut as we press closer to the defenses. We haven’t even touched the Cascade troops yet; we’re just fighting our own.
Brainwashing? Defection? Bribery? These must have been part of the side experiments Sabine was talking about. I don’t get to think very long about the ‘how’ before a hand grenade clicks over the barricade, coming to rest next to the arm of a fallen woman.
Acting before thinking, I kick the grenade away. It doesn’t sail very far before it explodes, showering the deck with shrapnel. Bright light pierces my eyes before the shockwave throws me to the ground. Trying to regain my sight, I fight to blink away the white splotches covering my vision. They clear enough to reveal a ghostly form above me.
A sword whistles downwards.
A hand grips mine tightly to the pommel of my saber, thrusting it upwards. Out of the corner of my eye, my father lies beside, me gripping the hilt with both hands. The counter-maneuver forces the Churchill crew member back with twice my normal strength.
I flick my revolver out of its holster, firing once. The man’s head snaps back. His arms flail, falling out of sight.
I look back at my father. He eyes me incredulously, growling, “Now get your ass up!”
Strength returns to my legs as he grabs me by the scruff of the neck, throwing me upwards. Clambering to my feet, I wince at the errant bullet skipping past my knee. As I regain my balance, a hand grasps my shoulder, forcing me onwards.
The face above belongs to Cliff. “Looks like I get to be your escort again,” he grins, “The smoke’s starting to clear; we need to get to the barricade now!”
I let him drag me over my own legs as we dash through the battlefield, tailed by our remaining team. Details of the hangar sharpen as the manmade fog dissipates. Without it, there’s no shield between us and the hail from above. The machine gunner at the forefront of the barricade knows this too. I hear a bandolier of rounds dragging into position.
I release myself from the Corporal’s grip. “Cover! Now!” I shout to the remainders around us.
Pickings are slim. All that lies between us and the barricade are overturned munitions carts and fallen bodies. Unfortunately for Cliff and me, no carts have been deposited anywhere near us.
The front of the gate thunders, sending sparks ricocheting around us. The rain of death is as dazzling as it is disorienting. Sliding to the ground, we immediately cover ourselves with the nearest bodies we can find.
The gore’s sickening, but not nearly as terrible as the screams of those caught in the crossfire above. It’s so loud, I can’t put a string of thoughts together. Not knowing what else to do, I just shut my eyes, huddling close to the body on top of me.
I have no idea who it is or who they fought for. I only know that they provide some sort of camouflage. I flinch as a wetness hits the side of my mouth. Looking up, I see a string of bloody spittle leaking from the lips of the dead man above me. Retching, I spit out across the cold floor, burrowing my head closer to the paneling. Flashes of light intensify around me. The gunner’s closing in.
Curling up, I hear a second gun join the fray, then a third, but they aren’t coming from the direction of the barricade. Peeking out from under my corpse cover, I see two of our Helios launching from the Artemis. There’s just barely enough room for them to hover, but it’s all they need. The gunships strafe over the battlefield, weaving from side to side to avoid incoming fire. In doing so, their rotors blow the last of the smoke away.
Pushing the dead man’s head to the side releases more posthumous drooling. It’s a small fee to allow a clear view of the top of the barricade.
Cascade soldiers run from end to end, pointing to the gunships above. The machine gunner pirouettes out of sight as the Helios’s fire tears through the rampart. A camouflaged arm drapes itself over the side of the wall, its owner missing a lung.
This is our chance.
Throwing the body off me, I rise out of hiding. “Breach it!” I yell.
I’m relieved when a large enough group rises from behind the carnage to follow me. With the Helios’s distraction and the smoke gone, this is our only chance to break through the barricade.
We’ve barely collected ourselves before a sharp whoosh of air erupts from the parapet above. A trail of smoke follows the red jet of a rocket streaking up from the wall. It arcs over the battlefield before burying itself behind the head of a Helios’s door gunner. The explosion lights up the hangar, blasting apart the tail and the right rotor of the Helios.
The flaming gunship careens in our direction.
“Watch out! Get out of its path!” I yell, switching course and motioning others to the side.
The spinning Helios hits the deck, igniting the streak of fuel leaking from its side. Dark, choking smoke billows from the aircraft. Our group shifts direction, running towards the flames. Heat scrapes against my skin as I close in on the wreck.
I look back to tally who’s made it this far. Blood seeps from the side of Baltier’s head, but his long, determined gait is easy to pick out from the mass of soldiers pressing forward. Even further back, I spot Sabine’s shock blonde hair rushing alongside a heavily armored Raltz.
Screeches pour out of the cabin of the downed Helios.
Another rocket sails high overhead. It misses the remaining gunship, exploding instead against the roof of the hangar. Debris rains down from above as a deck light shatters to the left of my foot. Wrapping my arm over my face, I get as close as I can to the hull of the burning gunship. I wave on the troops passing me, signaling them to continue their assault.
A charred arm bursts through the wreckage. I fight back bile as the woman’s screams become clearer. My eyes dry as I pull closer to the flames. Another arm reaches out of the fire as I hear her rasping breath.
“I’m here!” I shout. “I’ll get you out of there!”
She doesn’t answer as I grab onto both of her arms and pull. It’s a mistake. It’s all a mistake. As I tug, I feel the blistered skin give way from the rest of the bone as both of her arms scrunch forward. The scream that follows will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Horrified, I let go of her, falling backwards onto the deck. Bile rises up as my throat closes. My efforts were enough to free her head and shoulder from the wreckage, but it’s too late. Thatches of hair sizzle, as her scalp blisters. She makes no more sound.
Tears evaporate as they well up against the heat. I make no effort to get away from the flames threatening to engulf me as the smell of burning skin permeates the wreckage. Shutting my eyes, I try wishing it all away.
It doesn’t work.
As I open them, I see a dark form sitting in the middle of the flames. My father’s haggard eyes peer out from underneath his flight cap. Forms run past us. Some fall, unmoving. Others are pulled away from the fight. Most charge on. Without me.
“This was your choice, you know,” he says, lighting a cigarette against the sheer heat of the fire. The smell of Burley tobacco pushes away the stench of burning flesh. It’s just as nauseating.
“I don’t understand how you could have thought that this was gonna go any other way,” he says, flipping his lit cigarette in between his pale fingers. The exhaustion in his voice rivals my own as he looks down at the dead crew member.
He points to the burning woman. “You owe her something better than that,” He says, blowing a lung full of tobacco smoke into the rest of the haze pouring from the fire. He leans against the white hot frame of the Helios before fixing his eyes on something over my shoulder.
Following his gaze, I find Cliff running over to my side. He pulls on my numb shoulders, trying to get me to my feet. Dead weight, I barely move as I stare at him, confused. Soundless words pour from of his mouth.
It all comes rushing back.
“Lieutenant!” he yells over the gunfire. “We’ve got an opening. We have to go now!”
The sound of hu
ndreds of people’s efforts rise up into one indistinguishable cacophony. With his assistance, I get to my feet before running through the flames blocking out the other side. The wall of fire gives way to the barricade right in front of us. A quick scan reveals our marines have fought their way through the gate and begun rolling back the Cascade on both sides. If they can’t keep them back for the time it takes us to locate the Core, both strike teams will die.
Another rocket launches from the side wings of the barricade. The warhead misfires. Changing course, it skitters past, exploding at the feet of several Persian marines. I don’t look back. I can’t at this point.
Racing up the steps, we find the rest of our teams mustering at the base of the gate. Our numbers have almost been halved. We knew this would happen.
Sabine’s voice rises above the fighting. “We have to slip into the engineering pathways now! The enemy will be reinforced at any moment and we must be gone before they come!”
Running up to the group, I point to Raltz. “You’re with me! We need to make it through those tunnels as fast as possible,” I yell.
Raltz nods, gesturing back to Sabine. “Please stay back with Lieutenant Baltier my lady,” he says, rechecking the magazine of his rifle. “If we encounter resistance, I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
Flexing her jaw, Sabine runs further back in the echelon as we enter the main bulkhead, leaving the rest of the battlefield behind. The sounds of the fighting outside and the echoes of the melee within meld into a disconcerting symphony. As we stick to the shadows, Cascade soldiers ferry back and forth in the hallways ahead. There’s enough confusion that as long as no shots are fired, we’ll blend in with the rest of the dark corridors.
Raltz crouches behind a wall panel. I gesture for the rest of the group to stay low as I move up behind him. He lays his head against the panel with his eyes closed.
“What are we waiting for?” I whisper.
He holds up a hand and shakes his head, his eyes still firmly shut. There we wait, 20 seconds, 30 seconds, 40 seconds. Just as my stress rises to a breaking point, Raltz’s eyes snap open.
I clutch the stock of my gun.
The panel opens from inside and a Cascade technician steps out. Before either one of us realize what’s happening, Raltz snaps the technician’s head back and jams his knife deep up into the man’s neck.
Shocked, I freeze as Raltz tries handing off the dying man to me. I drop him on the floor as he convulses erratically. Without a sound, Raltz throws himself into the hidden door before it shuts again. His face betrays no emotion as he holds the door open for the rest of us. Bastille and Namazu marines drag the bleeding man away as the rest of the group courses into the cramped tunnel.
The sounds of battle become muffled. With each outside impact, month-old dust jumps from the wiring and walls. I flinch with each explosion, imagining the thousand-pound shells colliding with the side of the Ark. I don’t care how strong the magnetite plating of the Ark is, eventually one of those shells is going to find a weak spot and we’ll be the first to know.
An austere lighting shines from the bulbs swinging overhead as the corridor begins expanding just enough to breathe. My claustrophobia is offset by the tramping boots above us. No one said that it would be easy sneaking through the tunnels – just that it would be easier than forcing our way through everyone else.
Other passageways fly by us as we run. Raltz says nothing, his eyes flitting from entry way to entry way as his memory pieces back together a puzzle once assembled long ago. Over the course of the maze, we encounter a few unfortunate technicians and one marine guard. They’re all taken before they can make a sound.
Raltz harbors no love for his former countrymen.
Other than them, there is no one else in these tunnels. They’ve all been committed to fighting in the hangar or manning the various guns on the Ark’s exterior. Raltz mumbles to himself as he moves from tunnel to tunnel, using any trick he can to guide us in the right direction. His tricks appear to run out as we approach a four-way intersection. At this point, we have to be close.
Raltz’s jaw tightens. He slams his fist into the wall. “We’re so close! We’re almost there. Why can’t I remember it?” he growls. Heaving, he pulls himself upright as the two strike teams pile up behind us. “Saber, I need you to check the western tunnel. I’ll take the north.”
He points to another soldier under Strike One. “And you Vitala, you take the east. We don’t have time to check each one separately. We need to go until we find the blue light.” Raltz fans his hand out against the wall. “You’ll see it pouring out from the end of the tunnel. If you find it, do nothing except return back to the divide.”
My skin crawls at the mention of the blue light, enveloping everything it destroys. Unstoppable.
Corporal Vitala nods her head before gesturing for three other marines to follow her as she disappears down the eastern tunnel. Another two check their gear and step up to me, but I turn them away.
“No. Thank you, but I’ll move faster alone,” I say.
It’s not true. I just don’t want another person dying under my command doing a job that I could have done myself.
I disappear into the darkness before they have a chance to protest. The impacts from above become more frequent, the hits getting heavier. Dust shakes from the rafters as vibrations rattle throughout the tunnel. Either we’re winning the battle outside, or the force of the Ark’s cannons is slowly tearing the ship apart from the inside.
It’s the first time I’ve been alone all day. Breathing heavily to myself, I realize I’m not frightened. The silence and darkness give me a chance to focus, to clear everything out. There aren’t any blank staring faces here. No unmoving lips, no trails of blood. Yet.
I push forward, rounding a corner. What I see stops me in the soles of my boots. A man stands there with his head bowed over a cigarette. Light blossoms around his face and the surrounding walls as he lights it, releasing a few puffs. Even in the darkness I can make out the uniform.
He turns his head to the side. My father’s profile cuts into the dim light as he fixes his eyes on me. Decayed teeth splay out across his grin as he sees who I am. He says nothing. The cherry lights up his faces as he moves his hand backwards. There’s something in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
Murder.
Time jumps as I realize what’s happening. The gun comes out, its barrel angling towards at me as I watch it. There’s no sound but the blood pounding in my ears.
A shot reverberates down the tunnel.
I stand there shaking. My revolver rattles in my right hand, a trail of smoke curling out from the barrel. The world rushes back. My sweat binds my uniform to my shoulders as my eyes blink, trying to take everything in. My father lies there, curled over, his gun fallen behind him somewhere. The shot echoes up and down the corridor, snapping me into action.
“No . . . No . . . ” I murmur, rushing over to him. The metal teeth of the walkway bite into my knees as I kneel against them. Placing a hand on the shoulder of his body, I hesitate to turn him over.
“I . . . I didn’t mean to,” I choke out. My throat closes up as I press a hand against his shoulder, “Dad . . . I didn’t mean to.”
My vision blurs. I can’t hold back the tears any longer. I’ve got nothing left. It’s all gone. My muscles work one by one, independent of one another, and independent of my will. They contract enough to counter my father’s weight. I turn him over slowly.
The first thing my eyes find is the Cascade emblem on the side of his chest. I stop, unsure of what I’m seeing. The texture and color of his uniform has completely changed. Holding my breath, I look up to his face. I find a bearded man staring up into nothingness; one of his eyes at least. The other is mashed into the back of his skull with the rest of his eyebrow and top part of his cheekbone where the round hit. A cigarette burns out halfway between the grate and the man’s hand. My mouth hangs open as I try processing it all.
What�
��s happening?
The tramping of boots grounds me enough to turn around.
“Lieutenant! You hit?”
The two volunteers catch up with me. The other surveys the scene. “We heard a shot. The rest of the Strike One and Strike Two are headed this way.”
Against the impacts from above, I hear another pounding; footfalls of men and women coming our way. Sabine and Baltier round the corner with the rest of the two teams as I turn over.
“We called back Vitala and Raltz, but I’m not sure how far they’ve made it down their respective tunnels,” Sabine says breathlessly.
She’s trying to stay strong, but I can tell that being this close to the Core is taking a serious toll. The blood soaked bandages visible around her arm have only darkened in color since we’ve made it to the tunnels. The closer we get, the more the Core’s magnetism threatens to pull her apart.
A gruff voice erupts from the back of the echelon. “I’m right here!”
The teams make way for Raltz as he pushes to the front. His eyes widen as he reaches me and the body.
“I think it was a perimeter guard,” I offer, desperate to hide my confusion.
Raltz waves this off, his eyes projecting a laser focus. “Look up ahead,” he says.
Following his hand, I see the faint outlines of the aqua light we’ve been seeking. My skin crawls at the thought of staring up into the throat of the Ark. Now we’re here.
Pressing against the floor, I try picking myself back up. My muscles strain but don’t complete the push. My body’s frozen next to the small pile of debris next to my hand. Pausing, I look up into the darkness.
A support beam plummets through the black.
The world spins as I tuck and roll to the side. The beam buries itself upright in the floor as I hear one last shell hit the side of the Ark. The last straw breaks.
Men and women scatter as shrapnel and chunks of metal rain from the hole above. Whatever’s been protecting us from our own ships can no longer repel the barrage. Raltz reaches in, pulling me out from underneath the downpour. He drags me to safety, ignoring the deafening sound of the collapse. Smoke clogs the entire tunnel. If the internal garrison didn’t know we were here before, I’m willing to bet they do now.
With Eyes Turned Skyward Page 30
