Deleted

by Phoenix Ward

  “Excellent!” King Hum yelled back up at the Gearhead farmer. “Now we just need to wait for the battle to begin.”

  He turned to gaze at the walls of Shell City, which flickered in the hot vapors of the desert. They were only a mile from the city, but the blue in the atmosphere still tried to obscure the walls.

  “Are we ready, your grace?” Adviser Orram asked.

  King Hum nodded. “Let’s just hope Ethan, Tera, and Gauge are ready, too.”

  Tera and Gauge blended in perfectly with the other slum dwellers. Both were nervous that someone might recognize them and cause a scene, but they managed to sneak into Shell City without so much as a glance in their direction. The disguised bodyshells they occupied, designed to look broken and cheap, seemed to do the trick. They wore rags over their heads like many slum-bound I.I.s did, which concealed them further.

  It was slow moving once they were in the thick of the pedestrian crowds, so they took the time to survey their situation. Tera made eye contact with one of the Council officers tasked with policing Slumside, like she had once been. It gave her a quick wink, and any fear of being discovered that may have filled her dissipated.

  “I think most of the cops down here are Nayla’s people,” Tera whispered to her partner as they shuffled through the muddy street.

  “I think you’re right,” Gauge replied, nodding subtly at another white bodyshell, which also appeared to be occupied by one of Nayla’s Ghosts. “I gotta say, I’m impressed.”

  “I’m sure it was no walk in the park.”

  “No, but it makes our part easier,” Gauge commented. “We should make our move soon.”

  “Once we get to a clearing,” Tera said.

  “Who’s doing the talking?” Gauge asked.

  They walked with the crowd in silence for a moment before turning to each other and playing a round of rock, paper, scissors. Gauge smashed Tera’s scissors with a rock and she let out a groan.

  “Alright, I’ll do it,” she said.

  They only walked for another ten minutes before the foot traffic led them into the largest clearing in Slumside. Tera recognized it right away as the “town square”, where she once found a flyer advertising Nidus’s Shedder cult. Where she had patrolled with Abenayo.

  She walked within arm’s reach of a human liaison officer who looked a little like her former tutor. The Council bodyshell reached out and stopped her.

  “We’re in position,” the cop said. “It’s time to crack open the shell.”

  Tera nodded at the code phrase, then took in a deep breath. She closed her eyes and let the artificial exhale escape her bodyshell.

  “Let’s get this started,” she told the Ghost cop.

  Just after she said that, there was a scream in the crowd from behind her. The sound of people running and others struggling reached Tera’s ears as she pushed her way to the center of the clearing. A short burst of gunfire split the air as a few bodyshells hit the ground. She noticed some of the white bodyshells pointing their weapons at others, opening fire or simply disarming their targets. In the corner of her vision, Tera saw one police bodyshell convulsing on the ground as its current occupant fought against a Ghost I.I. who was trying to seize control of the mechanical body. She heard a couple battle cries as a few humans rushed up and incapacitated a handful of Council cops. She instantly recognized two of them from her short visit among Truck’s Raiders. Truck himself was likely in the crowd, having insisted on joining his marauders the night before.

  “Your attention!” Tera shouted as she heaved a large man aside and walked up to the small stage structure in the middle of the clearing. She struggled to climb atop it as the panic and chaos grew around her. “Your attention, please!”

  No one paid her any mind. The cries and shouts and small pockets of brawling rippled through the crowd. None of the slum dwellers knew what was going on; for all they could tell, they were being rounded up by the cops for a random execution.

  “Please! Listen to me!” Tera shouted again. Her words fell on deaf ears.

  A gunshot overpowered the sounds of panic and fear and a wave of quiet washed over the slum dwellers. Tera rubbed her artificial ears as she cast Gauge an annoyed look. The Union rebel put his gun back into its holster and patiently gestured at her to continue. She thanked him before turning back to the captivated crowd.

  “It’s time for a revolution,” she started. Her voice was amplified as it boomed out over the heads of the slum dwellers. Some of the Council cops who had surrendered their weapons to the Raiders and the Ghosts scowled at her as she spoke. “The Council doesn’t want the best for you. They never have. You know this. If you want to build a better Shell City — a better world — then we need you to fight. If you don’t want to put your life at risk to bring the Council down, go home now; no one will fault you for that. If you want change, however — real change — then join us as we march on the Pavilion. We’ll give those bastards something to fear for once!”

  There was a moment of silence as her words were absorbed by the audience. A few people started making their way away from Tera and the others. They looked over their shoulders with frightened eyes, terrified that Tera was a liar and the revolutionaries would converge on them. Almost everyone remained, however.

  Then, as if an applause sign lit up over a stage, the crowd exploded with cheers. There was an almost cathartic roar that rushed out of everyone, as if this was the moment they were waiting for their whole lives. With a bit of pushing and excited jostling, people started making their way in the direction of the Pavilion.

  They don’t need to be told twice, Tera thought as she watched the slum dwellers continue to rile themselves up.

  A flicker of motion caught her attention from the corner of her eyes. Looking up, she saw a flock of a half dozen gunships circling around and descending in the direction the mob was moving. She watched as they started landing out of sight, presumably onto the Pavilion itself.

  “That’s the signal!” Major Danib shouted as he watched the gunships through a magnified scope. Lowering the device, he turned to the nearest Battalion soldier, who stood at attention for this moment. “Fire!”

  “Fire!” the soldier shouted, passing the order on through his radio.

  “Alright boys, this is it!” Farmer Ben yelled from his mechsuit.

  “Excuse me?” one of the Gearheads, a woman, cried back to him.

  Farmer Ben rolled his eyes. “I meant, ‘folks, this is it!’ ” he corrected himself. “Let ‘em have it!”

  The air along the blockade was filled with deep concussions as the artillery guns and Gearhead mechs started bombarding the walls of Shell City.

  Ethan swallowed hard as the metal ground of the Pavilion seemed to rush up at the gunship. The loading bay door was already opening before the aircraft even came within a hundred feet of landing. Ethan lost his balance as the first blast of flak hit the side of the gunship. The troops who filled the belly of the aircraft buckled as well, but kept their stance as they readied their weapons.

  There were soldiers from each nation aboard the gunship, as well as on the five others that flew alongside them. Mercenaries from Orange, soldiers from Battalion, rebels of the Union, and the Opesian army were all landing with Ethan in the heart of the Council’s territory. Even a few of the smaller Gearhead mechs were in the assault, as well as the Ghosts deadliest warriors. Ethan felt he was in good company, despite the almost suicidal nature of his task. He looked down at the radio beacon, which was clipped to his chest by a harness.

  Just gotta run as fast as I can and plant the son of a bitch, Ethan thought, feeling the device with his clammy hands. That’s all. Don’t think about it. Just run and try not to die.

  He could feel the rockets under the gunship fire up to slow the aircraft’s descent. Concussive blows continued to strike the vehicle as they started to come to a full stop.

  Ethan felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over at the unfamiliar Union rebel, who met his eyes.
<
br />   “You’re gonna find the Council’s storage bank to the north,” the rebel said, pointing out the bay doors. “Run and try to conceal your approach. We will cover you.”

  The human teenager tried to speak, but no words came to him. He nodded in response as the gunship shook violently. They had landed.

  As the bay door finished opening and the ramp to the ground was in place, the troops rushed out like water from a spigot. Battle cries filled Ethan’s ears as he closed his eyes and ran alongside the others. Once he was outside the gunship, the sound of gunshots and blaster fire overtook him. While his senses overloaded, he faced north.

  Just run, he told himself.

  58

  Powder Keg

  The shockwave that emanated from the artillery gun blew the bristles of Major Danib’s mustache sideways as he gazed at the wall through digital optics. His brow furrowed as he zoomed in a little farther. With a frantic wave of his arm, he shouted back at the gunners.

  “Cease fire!” he bellowed. “Cease fire! Civilians on the target!”

  King Hum stepped up to the hump of dirt Danib watched the wall from. He magnified his vision with a simple mental command and saw a line of forms spilling out of Shell City. The refugees approached them in a wide, dark wave. Even from his distance, the Opesian king could see the panic in their body language.

  “It looks like they have wounded,” Hum said to Major Danib.

  “I agree,” the Battalion leader replied. He turned to the nearest soldier. “Order the medical facilities to be ready for refugees!”

  The young man replied with a “Yes, sir!” then sprinted off to the tents behind the firing line.

  “Let’s hope there’s not more of them,” Danib said just quiet enough for King Hum to hear. “I don’t think we’re ready for the amount out there right now.”

  “Sir!” a voice cried from behind the two leaders. They both turned and saw one of Danib’s lieutenants with a long-range radio set strapped to her back.

  “What is it, soldier?” Danib asked.

  “We’ve intercepted a message,” the lieutenant replied. “The Council has notified the other cities of the attack. They are organizing a response as we speak.”

  Major Danib’s face fell and the blood drained from his skin. “That’ll be all,” he said to the soldier.

  “What do we do?” King Hum asked once the lieutenant disappeared.

  “We do our jobs,” Major Danib replied. “And pray that everyone else does theirs.”

  Even Tera and Gauge were surprised by the enthusiasm in the slum dwellers. It wasn’t just that, though. It was the focus they had. They weren’t running around attacking each other, stealing and breaking things that belonged to their fellow dwellers. Instead, they unified to take down each Council officer who responded to the scene. Whenever someone was injured, ten people flooded in to take his or her place while the crowd took care of them and made sure they got to safety. In a weird way, it filled Tera with pride.

  “Freeze!” she heard one of the white bodyshells yell to the rioters as it arrived on scene. He tried to open fire on one of the dwellers as they charged him, but the gun was already out of his hand before the command finished leaving his voice speaker. Tera couldn’t see what happened to the cop as the crowd swallowed him up.

  I wonder if the sergeant is out there, Tera wondered, thinking of her old boss. If he’s smart, he’s sticking out of this one.

  The crowd started to get congested as they made their way up the highway ramp that connected the lower slums to the Pavilion. All traffic came to a standstill as the pedestrians filled the motorway. Autocars continued to zoom over their heads, but the earth-bound vehicles could only honk in frustration as the people swarmed around them. Some of the drivers even abandoned their cars to join the march.

  Truck’s Raiders did a good job of arming the civilians who now made up a bulk of the mob. They seemed to know exactly who could be trusted with a rifle and who couldn’t. There were occasional bursts of gunfire, to which people screamed and ducked, but it always came from the mob itself. Anyone trying to attack them from the outside was promptly brought down by the Ghosts and the armed slum dwellers.

  Everyone was shoulder-to-shoulder as the forward movement seemed to stop. It seemed like they had come up to a barricade, as if they were a river stopped by a dam. Gauge offered Tera a boost so she could see what was stopping the crowd. With a darting of her mechanical head, she saw it. A line of Council soldiers, at least a hundred strong, stood in a firm formation, blocking the way into the Pavilion.

  “Halt!” she heard the white bodyshells shouting at the mob. “Proceed no farther or you will be shot!”

  “Fuck off or you’ll be scrapped for parts!” someone yelled back from the mob.

  Voices erupted in agreement as the people tried to push forward.

  “This is your last warning!” the bodyshell in charge of the Council response barked.

  “Right back at you, bub!” another cry came.

  “Turn around and go home or we will open fire!”

  No one was able to reply before gunfire shattered the atmosphere. Some trigger-happy cop got nervous and opened fire before the order went out. Before anyone knew what was going on, both sides exploded into action. Guns from the mob were raised as bullets ripped over the civilians’ heads and tore into the white bodyshells. With panic stamped on their faces, the troops opened fire on anything that moved.

  Tera dropped down from Gauge’s shoulders as everyone around them ducked. The bullets whizzed around them; a few rounds ricocheted off the concrete highway ramp. So much noise flooded into Tera’s auditory receivers that she feared they’d be overloaded.

  The massacre only lasted a few seconds before the mob rushed forward. A few bodies lay on the ramp — some writhing while others lay perfectly still — as the crowd closed the gap between them and the troops. Before long, the soldiers didn’t even have room to swing their guns around. The mob was upon them, slashing, bashing, and tearing at the bodyshells. Even those without weapons worked together to grapple the cops while the others broke them down to debris.

  All of a sudden, it was like the dam broke. The amorphous form of the mob stretched forward as the Council’s line was shattered. Tera and Gauge followed the countless rioters as they pushed their way off the ramp and into the Pavilion.

  The sounds of battle didn’t fade away as they left the ruined police line behind, however. A large explosion shook the ground and for a moment, the mob halted. The whine of gunship engines grew louder over their heads as they saw a Union aircraft bombarding the Council troops down below.

  Ethan couldn’t stop himself from whispering thanks to whatever deity was watching over him as he climbed into the maintenance hatch. He knew it wasn’t divine intervention or random luck, but the map of the Pavilion Gauge gave him. Even after everything he’d seen and experienced, he was amazed at how much data the People’s Union had gathered on the enemy. Years of underground espionage built to this moment — and it seemed to be paying off.

  The commotion from the battle was still ear-shattering, even from within the subterranean duct. Every now and then an explosion would rattle the tunnel and Ethan had to catch himself before he fell. The gunshots came as constant as the whispers of wind and Ethan was already starting to tune them out.

  Just keep moving, he reminded himself. I just have to keep moving.

  According to Gauge’s map, there was a hatch to the surface in just a half-mile. He just had to keep looking up in the pitch dark tunnel to make sure he didn’t overshoot his mark. From there, it would only be a short sprint to the storage facility. He wished the data they already had was enough to bombard the structure, but Gauge was clear: if they didn’t want to risk wasting all of their ordinance, the beacon had to be placed. Otherwise, they could lose their whole payload on a vacant plot of the Pavilion and the attack would be for nothing.

  Ethan had no idea how much time passed as he crawled through the maintenance du
ct. He felt like his mind was on autopilot, like he was back in the simulation, but had no control over his actions. When he saw the glow from the hatch above, however, he returned to reality and made his way to the surface.

  The battle’s volume doubled when he was out of the tunnel, though it came from behind rather than around him. For the most part, the area he emerged in was devoid of life. He ducked low when he saw a few white bodyshells rushing to the frontlines, but they were so occupied with their mission that they didn’t notice him. Staying low, he turned to the north and saw the squat little building Gauge had described to him.

  There it is, he thought. I’m almost there.

  It was only a hundred meters or so away, but it felt like a mile. At any point during his approach, a Council soldier could spot him and put an end to his mission. Everything depended on him. The pressure was almost enough to make his head explode.

  The sound of metallic footsteps reached his ears and he darted behind a short wall on the side of the street. With a peek, he watched a small group of Council soldiers rush past him. One glance to the right and they would see him, but chance was in Ethan’s favor. They ran south, away from the wall he ducked behind. Once they were out of sight, he continued his painful approach toward the storage facility.

  He sprinted the last ten feet or so, unstrapping the radio beacon from his chest. He pulled the wax sheet off the back of the device, exposing the adhesive that coated it. Crouching low, Ethan searched for a place to stick it.

  He remembered what Gauge told him: put it somewhere too obvious, and they’ll find it and destroy it before the signal can be sent. He needed to put it someplace it could go unnoticed for at least ten minutes.

  Ethan followed the outer wall of the storage facility until he came to a doorway. He lingered at the side of it, his heart pounding. In his head, he kept picturing a Council soldier emerging from the facility just as he stood there. He pictured a gun going off and falling to the metal floor with a hole in his chest. He pushed the thoughts away as he stuck the beacon onto the slight lip that surrounded the opening. It was like putting a bucket of water above a doorway, designed to be unseen by anyone passing through it.