Messenger

by James Walker

  “What about you, Major?” Huan asked, mirroring the others' confusion.

  A devilish smile crept onto Pierson's face. “I've got a little plan of my own. Don't worry, I'll join up with you when the time comes.”

  They hesitated. “But—” Eric started.

  “Get going,” Pierson snapped. “That's an order.”

  The others saluted. “As you wish, sir,” Eric said uncertainly.

  They headed back toward the maintenance corridor. Before climbing inside, they spared one glance down the transcontinental tunnel at Pierson's crouching form, silhouetted by the blazing lights of the station. Then they stepped up into the corridor and Vic closed the hatch behind them.

  17

  Lambda maneuvered her exosuit through the canyon, splashing through the stream that ran along the canyon floor. Overhead, she noticed more breaks in the curtain of sand rushing over the top of the canyon, suggesting that the sandstorm was starting to abate. Then the airborne Slayers could finally join the search. They would be little help, however, if the rebels were hiding within the labyrinthine canyon system.

  Lambda passed several openings in the cliffs. Each time, she lowered her suit to a crouch and shone a light inside, but she found only small, dead-end caves—nothing large enough for a company of rebels to hide in. She continued onward, her concentration never faltering, determined to root out the terrorists that threatened the peace and stability of the colonies.

  Around the next bend in the canyon, Lambda found something that made her stop cold. An enormous metal gate was built into the cliff, with an input console next to it. Lambda magnified the view and took note of a chaotic jumble of tracks in front of the gate. She magnified the view still further and identified the tracks as belonging to a large group of humans in combat boots—at least a platoon's worth—and the deep ruts of a single large supply vehicle. The tracks all led through the gate, with none coming out.

  Lambda's mouth curled into a thin smile of satisfaction. “Got you.”

  She pointed her suit's arm skyward. A flare burst from the wrist and shot into the sky, where it erupted into a brilliant light. Lambda lowered her suit's arm and waited for the rest of the pursuit force to notice the signal and close to communication range.

  After several minutes, the signal from Omicron's Ghost managed to break through the universal static near the edge of the sensors' effective range. A few seconds later, Omicron's hyena face appeared in the corner of Lambda's viewscreen.

  “Hey there, little lady,” he drawled. “What's up? You find anything? You better not have dragged me all the way over here for something stupid.”

  “Take a look for yourself.” Lambda forwarded her video feed to Omicron.

  Omicron whistled. “Hot damn. You managed to do something useful after all.”

  Lambda's face remained expressionless. “Glad to be of service.”

  “I'll contact the marines and tell them to search for other entran- ces,” Omicron said. “Then we'll bust in with the drones first, fol­lowed by the infantry squads. You and I will wait outside until they've asses- sed the situation. Once we've got an idea what we're up against, we'll move in and mop up.”

  Lambda's eyes narrowed into slits. “Understood.”

  *

  Guntar listened with a scowl to the report from Vic, Eric and Huan. Once they finished explaining the situation, he snarled in annoyance.

  “That damn Cutter. Always trying to play the hero. He's right, though. If the settlers are in league with shroud smugglers, we don't want to stick around.” He turned to each of them in turn. “Yun, get the hauler ready to move out. Hound, help me get the troops moving. And... Vic Shown, was it? Grab your gear and get back here pronto. I hope you're as good with firearms as you are with an exosuit, 'cause they probably won't hand over their mag cars without a fight.”

  While Guntar gathered the troops and explained the situation, Vic returned to his room for his gear. It took longer than he would have liked for him to don the combat armor, survival tools, provisions, and weapons. By the time he emerged back into the cavern, most of the rebels had already lined up in preparation to move out. The cargo hauler, with Huan in the driver's seat, finished performing a three-point turn, then paused to let Esther and her team of scientists climb on board.

  Guntar noticed Vic in the doorway and called to him. “Hurry up, Shown.”

  “Right.”

  Vic jogged across the cavern and took his place at the end of the line. Just as he reached his position, a gunshot echoed through the cavern. Vic spun around and saw the two guards at the entrance falling back before a group of armed men in tattered cloaks. As they traded shots, the rebels dispersed and flung themselves down, taking cover behind protrusions in the uneven ground.

  Caught off-guard, Vic reacted more slowly than his companions. He pulled the rifle off his shoulder and was about to take cover when something ricocheted off the weapon in his hands and struck him in the cheek. He fell to the ground, dazed.

  “Shown!” Eric crawled next to Vic and leaned over him. “Dammit, you don't just stand around like an idiot when people are shooting at you. How bad is it? Show me your face.”

  Vic pulled his hand away from his face and saw that it was covered in blood. Eric stared at the wound and his expression relaxed.

  “Just a graze. It'll sting like hell, but you'll be fine. Unless you got a concussion. Hey, can you hear me? You didn't get your brains knocked out, did you?”

  An all-consuming rage grew within Vic and overpowered his thoughts. Acting without thinking, he rolled forward onto his elbows and took aim with his rifle, searching for targets. He spotted a group of drug smugglers charging from the right and opened fire, dropping one of them with a withering barrage. The others dodged to either side and flung themselves to the ground, taking cover behind large rocks. Vic kept them pinned down with a continuous volley.

  “Damn,” Eric exclaimed in admiration, “guess you're tougher than I thought. Just don't stick your head up and you'll be fine.” He ran off at a crouch to join a nearby group of rebels while Vic continued laying down suppressing fire.

  The exchange of fire filled the cavern with a thunderous cacophony. The agonized cries of the wounded contributed to the already deafening clamor of the battle. After several moments of sustained combat, a green haze poured out of the ventilation shafts in the ceiling and slowly began filling the cavern.

  “They're trying to gas us out,” Guntar exclaimed. “Put on your masks. That shit's probably poisonous.”

  Vic paused to fit the air filter over his mouth, then resumed trading fire with the smugglers. Once he ran out of ammunition for the first time, it took him a moment to figure out how to eject the magazine and load a spare. Aside from that, he did not think. He simply acted, letting his reflexes and surging adrenaline guide his movements.

  The pitched battle continued for another minute when finally the surviving members of the smugglers' attack force pulled back. The roar of gunfire faded into silence. The green haze had expanded to fill the entire cavern, but the rebels' filtration masks protected them from whatever toxins comprised the foul gas. Slowly, the rebels stood up and took stock of their losses.

  Vic looked from one side of the cavern to the other, taking in the carnage, and suddenly noticed that his hands were shaking. He slung his rifle over his shoulder when a wave of nausea swept over him and bile rose in his throat. He dropped to his knees, fighting the urge to vomit. He could not vomit into his mask, and to take it off might mean death. After several moments, through sheer force of will, he brought both the nausea and the trembling under control, taking slow, deep breaths through the filtration mask.

  Guntar came forward and looked around at the scattered soldiers. “Good job, men,” he said. “Move our dead onto the cargo hauler so we can give them proper honors later. Be quick about it. The smugglers might regroup and attack again.”

  Guntar made a circuit around the cavern to supervise the troops' activities. As he d
rew close to Vic, he altered course to have a word with him.

  “You OK, newbie?” he asked. “I can hardly recognize your face.”

  With the rush of adrenaline masking the pain, Vic had forgotten about his injury. Now that Guntar mentioned it, his face began to throb. He reached up and tried to stroke his face where the bullet had hit, but the mask was in the way. “It's just a graze. I'll be OK.”

  Guntar's gaze dropped to Vic's belt. “Looks like you went through a few magazines.”

  Vic looked down at the empty holders in his belt. “I'm sorry, Colonel. I think I used too much ammunition.”

  Guntar laughed at him. “What are you apologizing for? Going through ammunition means you were fighting back. So,” he dropped his voice, “did you get any of them?”

  Vic's manner became subdued. He did not meet Guntar's eyes. “At least one. Maybe two. It—it was hard to tell in the confusion.”

  “And?” Guntar scrutinized him closely. “How do you feel?”

  Vic considered this. “I don't feel much of anything,” he said, surprised by this realization. “They tried to kill us in cold blood, so they had it coming.” He looked up at Guntar. “That doesn't make me a natural-born killer or anything, does it?”

  Guntar squeezed Vic's thin shoulder and gave him a scruffy smile. “It means you're tough, kid. Once we get out of this mess, I hope you decide to join up with us permanent. You'd make a fine soldier.”

  Guntar released Vic's shoulder from his vice grip and turned to address the rest of the troops. “That's it, ladies. We're moving out. Sergeant Hound knows where we're going, so his squad will take point. The rest of us will follow in a defensive column. Cargo hauler in the middle. Move out.”

  *

  The rebel column left the supply cavern and made their way through a winding tunnel that took them deeper into the earth. Soon, they emerged from the poisonous cloud, but Guntar advised them to keep their masks on in case of further chemical attacks. Eventually, they emerged from the tunnel and entered the residential district that Pierson's team had scouted earlier.

  They passed through the first couple of blocks without event. As they turned the corner to approach the industrial sector, they found their way obstructed by a hastily erected barricade made of debris and broken-down excavation equipment. At the same time, several troops in Gemdrop police uniforms opened fire from behind the barricade while conscripted settlers appeared on the surrounding rooftops and sprayed fire down at the rebel column.

  The rebels hit the ground and returned fire. Guntar shouted orders to withdraw one block and try another street. Just as the rear guard started pulling back, a fresh wave of smugglers appeared from behind and opened fire, forcing them to take cover.

  They were surrounded. The police-manned barricade prevented forward progress, while snipers fired from the rooftops and smugglers blocked their withdrawal. For agonizing moments, they remained pinned down, trading fire with the surrounding enemies and tearing the buildings apart with thousands of bullets and a dozen explosions from fragmentation grenades.

  Vic was in the rear guard, hiding within the doorway of an evacuated bar, periodically emerging to take potshots at the smugglers. Sud­denly, the roar of an engine made him turn around. The cargo hauler roared past in reverse and plowed through the smugglers' line. Their barrages bounced ineffectually off the vehicle's thick armor and bullet­-proof windows. In the wake of the cargo hauler's charge, the rebels' rear guard poured out and raked the smugglers' positions with shots, killing several of them and forcing the others to retreat.

  The cry went up that the rear guard had broken through the trap. The rest of the rebels executed an orderly withdrawal, covering their retreat with continuous volleys. Once they had pulled back to the cargo hauler's position, they took a moment to rebuild the column's broken formation, still trading shots with rooftop snipers.

  With the formation restored, the rebels proceeded down a block and checked the next street. This one was clear. They continued their advance and emerged from the commercial district into the industrial sector. After several blocks, they turned onto the street that led to the mag car station.

  A squad of security guards had taken up positions in the bunkers to either side of station's access tunnel. As soon as the rebels came into view, the guards opened fire with automatic rifles. The rebels' vanguard kept the security guards pinned down with suppressing fire while two of them ran forward to the bases of the bunkers and tossed grenades through the slits. Two muffled explosions later, the bunkers fell silent.

  The access tunnel proceeded downward at a sharp angle. There were no signs of pursuit, but the rear guard remained vigilant. As the rebel column neared the bottom of the tunnel, a rumble reverberated through the stone all around them, followed by the muffled staccato of distant gunfire from somewhere far behind.

  “What the hell is that?” Vic asked. “Did the illegal settlers and drug smugglers turn on each other?”

  “If we're lucky,” a nearby rebel answered. “We need to get the hell out of here now.”

  It took a moment for Vic to take in the rebel's meaning. When he realized the other possible explanation for a battle elsewhere in the set­tlement, a thrill of fear ran up his spine.

  The rebels emerged from the access tunnel and found themselves in a cavernous chamber that served as a hub. Besides the one they had just entered from, the hub connected to two more access tunnels, joining the station with additional sectors of the underground settlement. The far end of the hub gave way to a cluster of well-lit boarding platforms. Two magnetic cars sat next to the platforms, along with an assortment of loading equipment and several piles of crates and containers. Just beyond the platforms, the transcontinental tunnel stretched away to the left and right. The area appeared deserted.

  “I don't know why the smugglers would leave their shipment unguarded,” Guntar said, “but I'm not about to argue with good fortune. Let's use this equipment to move the Cage onto one of these mag cars and take their rides for ourselves.”

  “I don't think so,” an amplified voice thundered through the station.

  The towering visage of a black market military exosuit emerged from the transcontinental tunnel, shaking the station with every step. The suit took up position next to the mag cars and leveled a giant-sized rifle at the rebels.

  18

  “Now, why don't you drop your weapons, put your hands over your heads, and line up at that wall over there.” The exosuit waved its rifle for emphasis. “I'll give you five seconds to comply, otherwise I'll just blast you all into bloody ribbons and take everything of value off what's left of your corpses.”

  “I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

  Pierson emerged from the right access tunnel, holding a squirming figure in one arm, while pressing a pistol to his captive's temple. “I've got your boss,” he shouted. “One wrong move and I put a bullet in his brain. Now, how about you throw down your weapon and climb out of your suit.”

  “Go ahead and shoot him,” the exosuit pilot replied. “I wouldn't mind taking over as new leader of Kurotora.”

  “Hector,” the drug boss spat, his voice frothing with hate. “You backstabbing son of a bitch! Don't think I'll forget this. As of right now, you're on Kurotora's hit list. Bukoroshitearu, kuso yarou!”

  “Dumbass.” The exosuit leveled its rifle at Pierson and his captive. “Here blondie, let me give you a hand with that.”

  Before the exosuit could fire, an explosion ripped through the station together with a billowing cloud of smoke from the last of the access tunnels. A flood of battle drones poured out of the smoke. It took only an instant for their tactical algorithms to identify the exosuit as the greatest threat and open fire on it.

  The exosuit pivoted to avoid the flurry of lasers and raked the battle drones with fire. Its armor-piercing rounds tore through the drones' thinly-armored frames with ease, reducing them to piles of scrap. But the drones scuttled about with uncanny agility, preventing the exosuit
from destroying more than one or two of them with each volley, while their persistent laser barrages seared layers off its armor.

  Pierson knocked his captive unconscious and ran to join the others. Guntar ordered Pierson and Huan to take control of the mag cars, then shouted at the troops to begin moving their cargo. Since there was no time to transfer all their supplies, their only priority was the Cage. They scrambled to operate the loading equipment while stray shots flew all around them. Soon, a wave of Union marines poured in to reinforce the battle drones. The drug smuggler's exosuit was still providing enough of a distraction to draw most of the marines' attention, and the few that noticed the rebels were driven back by intense suppressing fire.

  “Hurry it up,” Guntar shouted through the din. “Get that thing loaded before one side wins.”

  Even as he spoke, the smuggler exosuit noticed the rebels' surreptitious activities just as they had the Cage halfway loaded. The pilot cried, “Oh no you don't,” and leveled his rifle at them.

  Before the pilot could steady his aim, the haze of smoke from the battle twisted unnaturally. The exosuit leapt back and the spot it had just occupied erupted in a cloud of debris. The smuggler responded by firing at thin air. His barrage was met with a flash of light, causing the rounds to veer off-target and tear into the surrounding rock. The next instant, the exosuit's rifle and right arm disintegrated into a hundred pieces.

  Vic blanched. “Another stealth suit,” he gasped.

  The smuggler exosuit drew a vibro-knife and flailed wildly about for several moments. Eventually, its arm froze in mid-air and the entire suit was torn to shreds, its wrecked parts flying all over the tunnel. That was it—the smugglers had nothing left that could put up any kind of fight against the Spacy forces.