by Ian Miller
"If you're going, so am I."
Elizabeth felt his body pressing against hers as they made their way upwards; somehow this was firm and comforting. The acrid smells from below were fading, and the smell of warm wet clothes began to take over. Not that it was all that hot. The building was like a refrigerator! But packed into this tiny elevator it was warmer. She kicked herself. She had to concentrate.
Each floor they approached, they had their weapons at the ready, perhaps a futile gesture, prepared to blast anything waiting for them. As long as the ropes weren't severed! Fortunately the elevator had three ropes, so even if one was cut, there could be time to get out before the whole device plunged below. But to her relief, and perhaps surprise, they secured the top unchallenged. It took several trips to bring the remainder of the party, but still the Munros did nothing.
"You don't look very happy," Max remarked. "We're nearly there, you know."
"It's been too easy," Elizabeth said doubtfully.
"Then spare a thought for the others," Max said. "Apart from any fighting, they have over thirty flights of stairs to climb to get this far."
"That'll put them in good condition," Elizabeth said sourly. "All right, everyone. Let's make our way to the stairs!"
They trudged through the dusty corridors and readily found the stairway. Elizabeth stared down into the inky depths below, but could see nothing. The sounds of gunfire, however, left her in no doubt that the others had arrived. She swung her torch upwards.
"Wait!" she called, as one of her men rushed to the stairs.
"What for?" came the reply, as the young man, eager to impress his superior, rushed forward. He was two-thirds the distance up the stairs when suddenly a blue sheet appeared, enveloping the young man's head. Blue fire danced around his whole body, which suddenly went limp and fell from the barrier. The body tumbled down to land at Elizabeth's feet. There was a terrible stench of burnt flesh, the fleshless skull gazed in surprised agony while the remainder of the body still twitched slightly after all that remained of the muscles had contracted to twist the body into an ungainly ball.
"What in hell's name's that?" Max gasped.
"That," Elizabeth said quietly, "is what's funny about the next floor." She had to lean on the wall for support, but her voice showed she was in control.
"And how do we get through?"
"I've no idea," Elizabeth replied, "but we'll think –"
"Shshsh!" one of the men commanded.
"What are you –"
"Sorry, Commissioner," the man replied, his eyes lowered in embarrassment, "but I thought I heard something coming."
Everybody became silent. There was nothing, then there was a faint clank.
"You're right," Elizabeth said, commending the man. "It's from over there. Take cover, everyone, and prepare."
There was a scurrying, then slowly the lights went out. They lay there for seemed to be ages, the clanks slowly becoming louder. Then they stopped, and a light beam began searching.
"Fire!" Elizabeth ordered, and within seconds there was darkness, and the sound of bullets striking steel. "Cease fire!" she ordered, and there was silence. Suddenly the whole floor became illuminated as the building lights came on. There before them were three strange cylindrical objects, with lasers mounted on their tops. Beams started firing, there was a scream as one of the MinCorp men tumbled forward, clutching his side. Further beams tore into him, and his body fell to the floor, inert.
"Single shot!" Reiner commanded. "Careful aim! Aim for the lens near the top! That's its vision!" He took his rifle, braced himself behind the stairwell, and with beams flying about him, aimed and fired. His bullet struck, and the cylinder began rotating slowly, firing beams randomly in all directions. His men followed orders. Single shots rang out amidst the screams of people being hit, generally resulting in pinging sounds, then another cylinder began rotating, then the third. Beams flashed everywhere, then two cylinders seemed to lock onto each other. They became hotter and hotter, then there followed a series of explosions. Molten metal flew out, some onto the third cylinder, which suddenly began rushing to the stairwell. It tumbled over the edge, to disappear into the void below.
"I sure as hell hope nobody's climbing up," Max said, as he looked down.
"That was brave of you," Elizabeth noted.
"Not just me," Max replied quietly. "Everyone. Let's check the injuries."
Two men were dead and four had injuries, three of which were serious. They were assisted to a nearby room, made comfortable, and given what first aid that could be given. They then had their weapons returned; the MinCorp men firmly believed that they would not be allowed to live after capture.
"If we have to die, we die dear," one remarked.
"I'll radio the ground forces," Elizabeth promised. "We'll see if we can get help"
"Got any ideas about that barrier?" Max asked.
"I'm afraid not," Elizabeth said glumly. "I'm afraid our lightning strike seems to be bogged down."
* * *
Marisa carefully judged the armoured vehicle's speed so that they reached the front of the Munro building at the same time as the Justice troops. It was supposed to be a surprise, the sudden joining of forces and the rush inside, but the first men through the door were met with a withering hail of bullets and laser fire. More Justice men ran towards the doorway, in turn to be cut down.
"Retreat!" Marisa ordered firmly.
"Retreat?" came back the astounded cry.
"You know what an order is?"
"Yes," came the sheepish reply.
"You've got one!"
Slowly the men retreated back, and a hail of bullets followed as the defenders rushed to the outer wall. Cheering broke out from within, cheering that was very short-lived. Marisa signalled to the driver of her tank. The lowest gear was selected, and with a great roar the archaic combustion motor sent the tank directly at the wall. A hail of pings from the outer shell was followed by a crunching and rendering as the tank lurched its way through the wall. A scream from below, as the metal tracks crushed a defender's leg, went unnoticed. The tank lurched forwards again, then stopped; the covers over the lights were lifted, and the room became a furnace of light. Men fell backwards, shielding their eyes. Two tried to shoot the lights out, but their weapons had no effect on the armoured glass.
"Lay down your arms," Marisa called through the intercom. "Further resistance is futile."
Some did, some did not. Those who did not were clinically eliminated. In a matter of a few minutes, the ground floor was controlled.
"You won't find the next thirty-odd so easy," one of the captives remarked.
"Perhaps not," Marisa replied with a shrug. She spoke into an intercom, and a large truck pulled up. From the back of this four minitanks were discharged; these were one-man miniatures of the larger tanks, moderately armoured and armed with a medium machine gun. Four short and lightly built soldiers climbed into the tanks and the hatches were secured. Their motors made a deafening high-pitched roar, and the tanks crawled towards the stairway. To the captives surprise and dismay, the first tank began to methodically crawl its way up the stairs. It reached the top, and the second began to follow. It was when the third was halfway up the stairs that the defenders counterattacked. As the sounds of gunfire rent the air, the fourth tank moved to support the others.
"No! Stop!" Marisa yelled, but the sounds did not penetrate the tank. It reached the stairs and began climbing. The third tank was within a metre of the top of the stairs when there was an ominous creak. The tank tried to accelerate as hard as it could, and as it began to lurch forward, the shock caused the stairs to pulse, then sag, then, with a sickening groan, collapse. The third tank had almost reached the floor; it seemed to hang almost in mid-air as the tracks clanked and the engine roared, then, as splinters of flooring flew down the stairwell, the tank seemed to stand on its end and topple backwards to land upside down on the heap of debris that covered the fourth tank. The fuel poured from it, and
suddenly there was a brilliant orange as flames licked up the stairs.
The old building was not just metal, and within seconds the flames had soared up to the next level. The heat began to blister what little paint was left throughout the ground floor, and although some soldiers had rushed to assist their comrades in the tanks, there was nothing they could do. The fourth tank's motors suddenly began to roar, and the driver sent the track screaming in reverse. The tank lurched backwards, but the weight of the other tank on top prevented it from climbing out of the debris. The motor screamed and screamed, then suddenly coughed, and died. Then yet another jet of flame soared out towards the soldiers as the second fuel tank ruptured. Reluctantly the men fell back.
"Contact the men on the next floor," Marisa ordered to her signals officer. "Tell them to make for a window and abandon the building."
"And what about the Commissioner?"
"Get them to make for a window as well. We'll get ropes lowered down from the roof. Get hold of Harry, and tell him about the fire."
"And what about the Munro's?"
"That's their problem," Marisa said laconically. "They can surrender or fry. We didn't plan it, but I'm not sure this isn't the best outcome."
Chapter 21
The initial attack on the Munro roof was carried out with clinical efficiency. A shock wave stunned all Munro's men, then Natasha and Gaius appeared, and began restraining the unconscious men.
"That was easy," Natasha remarked.
"And that's about all that will be," Gaius countered.
Natasha nodded. The building was indeed a puzzle. At first sight Munro's strategy was ludicrous. While she could understand Gaius' point that to reduce the building to a heap of molten metal would not solve the Earth's fundamental difficulty, and that to arrest Munro would be better, Munro could not guarantee that Garrett would appreciate this point.
So he had to have some hidden asset. But all attempts at remote sensing, including remote robot probes, gave no clues; there seemed to be a barrier that prevented signals crossing, and somehow all robot probes were either deactivated or destroyed. Whatever was in that building clearly involved M'starn technology, yet the M'starn on Miranda refused to comment or participate. While there was any possibility that any M'starn could be still alive, their comrades would do nothing to assist their potential foes, other than to call on the M'starn to surrender and re-join their own. Although all M'starn attempts at communication had failed, their standing orders forbade giving any possible assistance while there was incomplete proof of the demise of the M'starn who had not surrendered. While Natasha found this attitude irritating, Gaius did not press the issue.
"No matter what you do or threaten, they won't change their mind," he said.
Their task was to determine what Munro's secret was, then to neutralize it. They certainly made an odd couple, Natasha reflected. Both wore loosely fitting overalls, made of a relatively lightweight passive body armour material which, while not to be relied on, would offer reasonable protection. On their backs they carried packs that would enable the Krezell wands to function at very close range for a reasonable length of time. Around each of their wastes they had belts from which a variety of items were suspended. Gaius had vetoed many of her suggestions, and in addition to the rope they both carried, she was left with a long knife and, to her surprise, she was permitted a small bag of grenades. Gaius had a bag of what seemed to be mechanical objects of unknown purpose, and a leather bag that Natasha found to be utterly repulsive. It contained a leg with a boot, entrails, and a loaded pistol.
"Omens," Gaius had replied to her enquiry. "No Roman ever went into battle without consulting the omens."
"Yech," Natasha had responded. Even though the objects had been synthesized, they seemed so repulsive, and so pointless. Grisly superstitious nonsense!
"If you're coming, let's go," Gaius waved towards the ventilator shaft. He had tied a rope to the machinery, while the other end was coiled on his belt. "Natasha. You know you don't have to come with me, but this is your last chance to decline. Nobody will think –"
"Gaius, I want an honest answer."
"Yes?"
"Do you think I can be of any assistance?"
"Of course!" Gaius said, and placed both hands on Natasha's shoulder. "I really value your coming, in fact so much so that I'm breaking the rules quite a bit by giving you back temporary access to the Livia. But this will be very dangerous, and once we're deep into this building, the Livia will be of no assistance whatsoever. I repeat, I welcome your coming, but you do not have to come."
"Actually, and that's not the start Lucilla warned me about," Natasha added with a smile, "actually I do. I can't let you do this, just for us, by yourself. Also, I want to be with you down there."
Gaius looked at her thoughtfully and seemed about to say something, only to change his mind. "Then let's go," he said quietly, and as he swung his legs into the shaft he grasped the rope firmly. He began to lower himself down the shaft, uncoiling rope at the same time. Natasha looked into the shaft, to see the small light bobbing about below.
She grasped the rope, then swung in, twisting her legs about it, then began to lower herself. She cursed inwardly when she realized she had no light. It would have been a lot easier to get this right on the roof! She wound her legs about the rope, which, because of Gaius' weight was straight and taught, held on tightly with one hand, and adjusted the Krezell wand on her belt with the other. She felt herself slipping, so she grabbed tightly with both hands. Still no light. Then she remembered again. The wand was thought operated. She concentrated, and there was light. With a little practice, she found she could cast her eye in a direction, and the light would shine on that spot. That was much more satisfactory, and she began to lower herself again.
She had descended four floors when she felt that the rope was no longer taught below her. She looked down and noticed that Gaius had slid into a horizontal duct. She lowered herself, and Gaius helped her in beside him.
"Is this far enough?" she whispered. She realized her hands were becoming tired, and she hoped the answer was yes.
"Look down," Gaius suggested.
She poked her wand downwards and lit it. She peered down. "I don't see much," she said, finally, "except for the damage. The M'starn raid probably caused that. A number of buildings were blasted like that down in Jersey."
"And what about the outside of the building?"
"I see what you mean. But why would they blast the inside of a building?"
"Perhaps they repaired the outside."
"Why would they repair an old building like this?"
"To hide what's inside?"
"So we go on down there?" Natasha asked.
"I'll consult the omens," Gaius replied solemnly. He took his bag and slowly lowered it down the duct. As it was disappearing into the gloom, suddenly there was a brilliant flash of light that crossed the space and began crawling upwards. Hurriedly Gaius drew the bag back up. The sides of the bag and much of the rope were severely singed, the bottom was burnt through, and the contents had dropped below.
"I presume that means the omens are not good," Natasha said in shock.
"The omens strongly advise against climbing down there," Gaius nodded. "There's an energy barrier of some sort, which is clearly designed to stop anything crossing it. That's why our probes got nowhere, and why we can't even send signals through this building."
"But Munro sends signals across it," Natasha noted. "There was a signals relay unit on the roof."
"How was it connected to Munro's headquarters?"
"Cable," Natasha said thoughtfully. "I saw it disappear into the roof."
"Where?"
"About ten metres east of this duct."
"Then let's get out of here and try to find it," Gaius suggested.
They crawled slowly along the horizontal duct until they came to a grille leading to a room. Gaius pushed out the grille and eased himself into the passageway.
"Nobody aro
und," Natasha noted.
"There's nothing for them here," Gaius said. "They'll have their hands full now. Harry should be on the roof, and the others should be arriving below. Now, let's find that cable."
It took about ten minutes to locate. It was not hidden, but rather tucked in against the corner of a room, in which largish holes had been cut in the floor and ceiling.
"Messy workmanship," Natasha smiled.
"Makes our job a little easier, though. Let's enlarge this hole in the floor."
The room below was empty, apart from the dust. There seemed to be a white coating on everything; the floor and walls had the appearance of a sloppy flourmill. A little over a meter from the floor a band ran around the walls. Not a band that had been put there, but rather one that had been taken away. The wall linings had been vaporized, as had wiring in the walls. All that remained untouched were the steel girders holding the building up, and a steel bookcase. The cable passed down the wall, and entered what appeared to be some old steel pipe to take it through the barrier of desolation.
"It appears the barrier leaves steel alone," Natasha remarked.
"It probably had to," Gaius replied. "Something had to be left to hold the building up, and the structural steel would be as good as anything to select for."
"Perhaps the steel's magnetic properties lets the steel act as a shield, and if that's right, I know how to get through," Natasha said with a feeling of pleasure. It would be so good to show Gaius something.
"Well?"
"The ventilation ducting we crawled through. It's made of steel. If we could cut off a section, we could make a chute to drop through."
"That's an excellent idea," Gaius nodded with approval. "You'd make a great Roman!"
"What's that supposed to mean?" came the puzzled reply.
"Roman military tactics," Gaius grinned. "If bogged down, build something."
They returned to the ventilation ducting. Gaius pointed his wand towards the wall, and the blue light quickly cut through the panelling, to leave a large cavity through which the ducting could be seen. Gaius measured out a section of ducting a little under four meters long, and indicated to Natasha that she should begin cutting an end. The blue light made remarkably quick progress, Natasha thought, as she cut through the section immediately in front of her, but then she saw the problem. How could she possibly get at the back?
