“Too tight for a det-rope,” Easy says.
He’s right. The hallway doesn’t give us anywhere to go to be free of the blast—even a localized one like that—unless we move down a good ways. But that would prevent us from breaching the room quickly. We’d lose precious time running down the hall toward the door, not to mention the complications that could arise from throwing a banger at range that doesn’t make it out of the hall itself. I find myself wishing we were all in Legion armor. It would make life easier right now, if nothing else.
Looking at the lock, I take a guess that what we’re dealing with is a heavy iron bolt and that’s all. I mean, it could be barricaded from the other side, but that seems like a lot of precaution for the donks to take. And the zhee aren’t particularly known for industry or careful planning. Not usually.
I prime my shotgun with a pump and then roll out in front of the door. The rest of my team turn their backs to me, ducking low to avoid any blowback as I send an ionic-charged blast into the locking mechanism. It makes an awful noise that makes me thankful for the comm’s ability to serve as hearing protection while in my ear canal. There’s a definite smoking hole in the door. I give it a big boot, and the thing swings open, revealing a darkness that my goggles can’t penetrate beyond a few meters. But there are donks in the room, make no mistake.
The moment the door swung open, Easy and Winters tossed in bangers. I roll away from the opening at the same time, and we all shield ourselves from the concussive blasts. Those big booms hurt the donks particularly bad. Something about their ears.
“Beams,” I shout, and then thumb the ultrabeam on my shotgun to life, sending a searing streak of pure white before me, enough to make me squint reflexively on the other side of my NV goggles. But it’s enough for us to operate in.
A donk is swaying on weak knees, its claws pulling down on its ears, its eyes blinking non-stop as if to wick away the blinding. I send another shotgun blast into the zhee and drop him on the spot, moving straight for the right corner of the room while my men begin to clear the opposite corner and center, giving us a full view of everything happening inside. I can hear the guys sending suppressed bolts all around me. Probably not for practice because I can see at least four targets just in my little area, which makes me think this whole place is thick with zhee. Should have tossed in some fraggers.
Ahead, a staggering zhee raises an automatic blaster rifle with one arm and blindly pulls the trigger, sending a barrage of blaster bolts into his nearby buddy in a blind and panicked attack before I drop the shooter with another boom from Mel S. That leaves two more donks for me to take out. One is hunched over, clawed hoof steadying himself against the wall. He’s wearing a black flowing robe, like one of the holy men. I don’t see a weapon but I blast him. At the very least, he has one of those knives. More likely, a full auto blaster rifle that he dropped or hid inside his skirts.
They used to do that, the zhee. Back when the House of Reason dictated what war was supposed to be like. We’d raid a zhee terrorist cell and by the time we got to the back of the room, the rifles were tossed or hidden from sight and we had to switch to nonlethal force or face the political consequences. I can’t tell you how difficult that is, to be exchanging blaster fire with humanoids who want to kill you (and eat you if they can) but be expected to just stop short the moment one of them—and oftentimes it would be just one with buddies shooting on either side—decided to stop firing. If you took them out along with the other threats, it usually meant an inquiry. At least if there was a point in your squad or you were doing joint force stuff with the Army.
That’s not how Nilo runs things.
And so when I come to my last donk, an older zhee with long strands of gray and white hanging wispy from his chin, I blast him on the ground where he lies, waving off an attack that he still can’t see. I don’t think he was armed, but he was more than likely one of the frenzy-makers. A donk who whipped up other donks into a thirst for blood and then sent them out after whoever was unfortunate enough to be in their way. So even if he wasn’t fighting, he was responsible for more than a share of death.
“Clear!” I call, pivoting to see how the rest of my team is doing. We’ve all reached our terminus at about the same time, and soon they’re echoing my call. We took the room and are set to push farther into the compound itself.
The room’s only door other than the one we came in through leads to the great hall of the temple itself. A long affair with smooth columns upholding stone arches and polished floors with mosaic depictions of war, torture, and varied and unsettling images of a graphic and sexual nature. This place isn’t meant for our eyes. To even breathe the air inside is considered a most serious sacrilege. So much so that every zhee in the galaxy is honor-bound to kill us for it, should they know our crime. Which means the zhee in the palace should especially want to wash the floors with our blood. Only thing is… there aren’t any donks I can see except for the mosaic ones that my team tramples over as we move down the hall.
“Where’s the party?” Easy whispers into the comm.
I can hear the steady echo of weapons fire from the opposite end of the temple. It’s going back and forth, but the zhee with their archaic slug throwers are doing most of the talking. It’s Hopper’s team who has to do all the listening.
“We need to move fast to find out,” I say, deploying a trio of surveyor bots of various sizes. These will hover ahead quickly. They don’t tag targets, but they do make a quick map of the area for us to use. That will help in clearing the place and getting relief to Hopper.
The biggest one moves straight down the hall, bathing it in infrared lasers and painting a picture of how everything is laid out. Two smaller bots zip along behind, sneaking under doors or through openings to survey any rooms they come by.
We don’t waste any time, following the bots until we reach a small door. The map the machines created tells me the room is small, maybe ten by ten. I grab the door, prime a fragger, and toss it inside, moving on after the boom.
“Clear these rooms fast,” I say to the team. “Fraggers in each. Lana, keep eyes on our rear in case any donks hiding in there come out after us despite any new holes we give ’em. We only sweep the rooms big enough to where a couple of grenades can’t do the job for us.”
That’s a risk, I know. We ought to be clearing every room we pass to ensure that no zhee can hit us from behind. But Hopper and his guys are in the thick of it, and they need us there. I realize I haven’t heard from them in a while, and check in.
“Alpha One, Bravo One. What’s your status?”
“Not good,” Hopper responds almost as soon as I finish. The sound of blaster fire threatens to mute his voice over the comm. “Lost two guys and we’re pinned. Need some support, brother.”
“Roger. We’re moving your way now. Bravo One, out.”
I see Winters toss a fragger into a room and wait for it to boom before calling on my squad. “We need to double-time it to Alpha Team! They’re gettin’ hammered by the donks.”
“Just a few more rooms,” Easy tells me. “We should link up with Alpha on the other side of that door.”
The proximity is right, we’ve moved through most of the open temple structure. And the blaster fire is growing louder as we move.
“Let’s make it fast,” I tell the team. “Time is lives. Lana, how we looking back there?”
“No followers.”
“Carter,” Lash calls out. “This room is too big. We need to clear it before we move on.”
I grit my teeth but move over. The delay is unwelcome, but the big man is right. We’re of no use to Hopper if we show up only to get dusted from the back by some zhee we left behind in our haste.
“Stack up,” I say. “Let’s do this fast, but right. Don’t hurry it and make a mistake.”
We keep Lana back to have eyes on the hall. The door opens with a kick from Lash and
then we toss in fraggers and bangers and wait for the rumbles to end.
“Go!” I call, and the three of us storm inside.
The room is big, maybe fifty square meters. But the only donks I see are in the back of it, standing on either side of another door—this one distinctly modern. Lash and Winters have their weapons firing first, sending shots at medium range into the donks. But it soon becomes apparent that they weren’t actually standing guard. More like they died up against the walls. The zhee absorb the bolts to center mass and offer no hint of pain. Their bodies just absorb the blast and then slump over, leaving a smear of blood on the wall like paint rollers.
“Frags got ’em,” Winters says. “What now? Another door.”
“Bring up the slicer kit,” I say. “We’ll lock it tight and move on.”
“Roger,” says Easy, who runs to retrieve it from Lana and returns a few seconds later.
“Alpha One, we’re about two minutes out,” I say, figuring Hopper would want updates.
“Hurry!” comes the reply.
I’m about to tell him to hang on when Surber’s voice comes over the comm. “Carter. I’m showing your team’s location as just outside Alpha Target Three.”
I don’t have any idea where Alpha Target Three is supposed to be. No one saw fit to tell me that part of the plan. But before I can answer, Winters chimes in. “Affirmative. We’re at the target.”
Surber runs with the confirmation. “You are to breach the door and neutralize the target. Immediately.”
I shake my head, aware of the dark looks on Easy and Lash. “Mister Surber, all due respect, but Alpha Team—”
“Right-kelhorned-now!” Surber shouts in my ear.
There’s a boom and the temple shakes. Dust sprinkles down around us.
“Carter,” Winters says, grabbing my shoulder. “We have to take this room. Even if it means all of Alpha gets dusted.”
What. In. The. Hell.
15
The small arms fire in the front of the compound is thick. As loud as most battles I’ve witnessed. The koobs and zhee are fighting it out while Alpha and Bravo teams work the temple itself.
Except only my team has made it through our objectives. And what we should be doing is moving to relieve Alpha. Only… things just got complicated.
“Winters,” I say, trying to use my keep calm voice, “I need you to explain to me just what you and Surber decided while the rest of us were guarding a bunch of dead koobs, and I need you to explain it two kelhorned hours ago.”
Everyone is sending blaster bolts at the kid with their eyes. Second-guessing every time he corrected or steered course in the past—like using bots at cleanup, or not torching the barracks. It’s obvious that Winters has some kind of inside knowledge of what’s happening. And it isn’t sitting well with the mercenaries who put their lives partially in his trust as a squad mate.
Lashley steps up. He doesn’t lay a hand on the kid as he towers over him, but the shadow he casts over Winters brings with it a forecast of the sort of destruction the big man could bring if he chose to raise hands. “You best answer Carter,” the big man rumbles.
Winters holds an arm out like he doesn’t know what to say. His other hand is still on his blaster rifle, but no finger on the trigger. “Look, guys,” he begins.
Lash is undeterred. “You can’t wave this away.”
Lana is still watching the door, but otherwise all eyes are on the kid. He looks at me, hopefully. “Carter…”
“I want the answer, too,” I say.
“For real,” pitches in Easy. “What? You some kinda spy for Surber? Watchin’ us?”
“Carter…” Winters tries again.
I cross my arms and then drop them just as quickly. “We don’t have time for this. Alpha Team needs us and we’re moving. Let’s go.”
We all turn to move. The sounds of the fighting at the front of the temple compound and off in the distance where Hopper and his team were held up still sound muffled by the thick stone—but it’s all close enough.
“Guys. You can’t leave.”
I half expect to see Winters aiming his rifle at us when I turn around. His voice has that much resolve. But instead I see him pulling off his helmet. I’ve seen the kid a few times without his bucket. Not much, but enough to have the impression that he’s still south of thirty. He still looks young but I don’t know how to explain it other than to say he’s old-young. Not a word, I know.
His face is free of wrinkles and covered in sweat. His wet hair is matted down on his forehead—these aftermarket helmets don’t touch Legion tech. But there’s a commanding presence to him that I sure as hell don’t remember seeing before. Like he’s the one in charge.
“We have to get this room secured first,” Winters says. “Surber is going to bust in on comms and order it inside a minute.”
“That so?” I ask, annoyed at the way the kid is trying to tell me what to do.
And that’s what it really boils down to.
Pride. Annoyance.
I’ve been on critical missions that have forced me to leave good men to die in order to secure an objective bigger than the fights our squads found ourselves in. I didn’t like it, but I understood it.
But this isn’t that. This is all the frustration at home and with Surber and even with being the afterthought team while Hopper is entrusted with the KTF jobs. It’s all of that plus some wannabe merc on my team trying to make decisions for me.
“Carter.”
It’s Surber. And I knew it would be.
“Go for Carter,” I say.
Lash and Easy swear under their breath on hearing my voice. I think they were holding out hope that Winters was bluffing. I don’t think they saw what I saw in the man when he took his helmet off. An authority which ought not have been there but was.
“You need to secure Alpha Objective Three. Immediately.”
I have a good job. I make good credits. And I should do what I’m told. But this doesn’t sit well with me. “Hopper’s team needs relief.”
“It can wait.”
“All due respect—”
“It. Can. Wait, Carter.”
Suddenly Winters is on the comm. Just jumping into my command channel like it wasn’t blocked and encrypted. He’s pulling the comm set down from his helmet to speak, so I can still see his face.
“Surber,” the kid says, “I’m going to let them in. We’ll have AT3 secure shortly. Make sure we’re set to stage the house. Daylight is too soon.”
There’s a pause and then Surber says, reluctantly, “Yes, sir.”
Yes. Sir.
I look at Winters expectantly. This isn’t the sort of situation where you actually have to ask the question. The question is assumed. Because it’s so big there’s nothing else you can talk about.
Winters knows this too. He nods at me once and says, “I’m Arkaddy Nilo.”
“Twarg dung,” scoffs Easy. “Ain’t no way you’re Big Nee.”
The kid shrugs as if to say it doesn’t matter what Elias Aguilar thinks about who he is. He’s still standing there. Still Big Nee.
I’ve never seen our boss in person. But evidently, Lana has.
“He’s not lying,” she says. “I got wind of who I’d be working for before taking this job. I looked him up.”
I look from Lana to Nilo. “So you’re the boss. And you want us to take out this objective.”
“Need is more like it,” Nilo says.
“Well, Alpha Team needs us, too. Nobody else is going to come for them. What’s the objective?”
“Communications room,” answers Nilo. “One that can’t be used or everything done so far is undone.”
“Fine. I’ll clear the room and you can stay with me to make sure it gets done right. Everybody else moves to support Alpha Team.”
Nilo looks at the room. I don’t know if he game planned how this would all work out. If he figured we’d all just fall in line or what. Hell, I don’t know myself what the right thing to do is. I’m torn between not leaving Alpha Team to get killed and doing what I was hired to do. Splitting up my team seems like the only way to do both.
“Good,” Nilo says. “That’s fine.”
I’m a bit taken aback by how quickly he agrees. Maybe he’s not bluffing about how important knocking out this last objective is. Which means, I’m probably not ever going to get another opportunity like this.
“Okay,” I say. “And you also clear my team’s debts and double our salaries. Paid in advance.”
Nilo is watching me, like he’s maybe waiting to see if I’m done. I begin to second-guess what I just did in two directions, unsure if I should have asked for more or if I made a terrible mistake.
The room is dead quiet now except for the sounds of weapons fire. My team keeps looking from Nilo and me to the temple, but no zhee are coming. I’m fairly sure that what donks are left inside this building are having it out with Alpha Team or waiting for us in the commo room.
A slight smile comes to Nilo’s lips. “Done.”
“Holy sket,” Easy murmurs.
I nod at the boss. The kid. And then I move to the objective door, fishing out a slicer box to prep for breach.
“Lash, move to relieve Alpha Team. Let Hopper know you’re coming.”
“On it, Carter.”
The big man takes point and leads Easy and Lana out of the room.
I look up at Nilo, half expecting him to be fuming. I just cost him a lot of credits. Well, a lot of credits for a guy like me.
The kid sees me looking. “Well played, Carter. There was a reason why I chose your team to work with, you know.”
I don’t know what to say about that.
16
The slicer box winks its green light at me and we’re ready to open this door. The only problem is, I have no idea what to expect on the other side.
Galaxy's Edge: Takeover: Season Two: Book One Page 12
