by Isaac Hooke
“No,” Mauler said. “Just my drag man reflex. Always gotta cover our six.”
He was right. I myself should have been more vigilant. Pain was no excuse.
The squad reached an opening shortly. There, we encountered the two ATLAS Support System drones we’d launched earlier.
The robots hovered on either side of the entrance like watch sentries. The glowing condensation of liquid Phants was readily visible and glistened orange-yellow above the metallic surfaces.
Orange-yellow: that was a color of Phant we’d never encountered before.
“Guess we know what happened to our drones now,” Fret said underbreath.
“Ghost, Trace, take them out,” Facehopper ordered.
Those in the forefront crouched, allowing our resident snipers to take aim.
Ghost and Trace fired at the same time.
The drones were hit and went flying backwards, vanishing into the opening.
The two snipers exchanged a satisfied glance and then lowered their rifles.
“Let’s go,” Facehopper said.
The squad members passed through the opening in pairs, entering a broad chamber carved into the rock. We stood at the edge of a sunken floor, which was filled to the brim with orange-yellow Phants that formed a moat of sorts, impeding all access forward. I couldn’t tell how deep the moat was because the Phants were opaque. I caught a glimpse of one of the damaged ATLAS Support System drones as it sunk into the liquid—in half a second it was swallowed entirely.
At the center of the chamber, a lone pillar arose from the moat and extended five meters to the rock ceiling. It appeared wider at the top and bottom than the middle, and a circular shelf located just above the liquid surrounded the base. The pillar and shelf were either sheathed in, or composed of, those same pulsating, orange-yellow Phants.
“Welcome to the Observer Mind, mates,” Facehopper said.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Rade
I just stared at Shaw for the longest moment. I couldn’t do anything else. I’d given up any hope of ever seeing her again, of ever holding her in my arms. And then there she was.
She leaped down from the cockpit of the alien mech—she was wearing a UC jumpsuit—and activated her jumpjets to pad the landing. She approached, moving neither fast nor slow, but at a moderate pace, like she, too, was unsure of what to make of this surprising reunion. Skullcracker remained at the mech’s side.
I left behind Chief Bourbonjack and Snakeoil to go to her. As I grew nearer, I did everything I could to convince myself she wasn’t real. I couldn’t believe it was her. I just couldn’t. Either my mind was playing tricks on me or this was some alien ruse. It was too good to be true. Shaw coming down, leading a squadron of alien mechs to rescue us at a time when we most needed saving?
Ridiculous.
She stopped two paces from me and took off her UC-issue helmet, letting it drop to the rooftop.
She looked so different. She’d only been gone eight months but it was like she’d aged five years. I could only imagine the hardships she’d endured.
Her face was pale, her tan having faded long ago. Her features were sunken, gaunt. Lines etched her forehead and creases marred the regions around her eyes and mouth where before there had been none. Her skin was clean, however, as if she’d recently bathed, and her dark hair—not as silky as it used to be—flowed down onto the shoulders of her jumpsuit.
As I stared into those brown eyes—eyes that used to be steely, defiant, and headstrong, but in that moment appeared red and moist—a part of me believed it was her.
But only a part of me.
She smiled as the battle raged on almost incongruously in the distant streets below.
“Hey,” she said. Her chin was quivering.
It was her voice. It had to be.
My hindbrain, the more primal, emotional part of my mind, wanted me to throw myself at her, wanted me to hold her in my arms and never let go, but my forebrain, my logical brain, still had a hard time believing it was her.
I remembered the simulated dream I’d endured at the hands of Lana, when she had been my Keeper and strove to pry away the password to my embedded ID. In that fantasy world, the memory of Shaw had been used against me.
And I had to wonder, what if I never actually left the dream? What if I was still aboard the enemy ship, living out my life in some sort of mind prison?
Those doubts ate away at me as I regarded Shaw, so that the only words I could manage, sadly enough, were: “Are you real?”
“Oh Rade.” She launched herself at me.
I instinctively wrapped my arms around her and squeezed tight. I let the scent of her engulf me through my open faceplate. The scent . . . I’d never smelled her in the simulation.
It was her.
I pushed her back for a moment to remove my own helmet, and I took off my gloves. Then I embraced her once more and ran my hand down her hair, feeling the smooth strands. Feeling the soft curve of her neck. Intoxicated by the smell.
“I thought I’d lost you,” I said. “I didn’t dare hope you were alive. I couldn’t give myself that hope. It would have driven me insane.”
The air shuddered; two streets away, an explosion sent a plume of smoke skyward. To me, the distant denotations and gunfire were fireworks celebrating our reunion.
“I’ve dreamed of this day for so long,” Shaw said, pulling back to look into my eyes. “So long. And now it’s finally here.” She rested her forehead against mine. “I never gave up. Not once. I remembered what you told me, about the resiliency of the human spirit. And I fought to find you, every day.”
“I never forgot what you told me either, Shaw,” I said. “To remember you in the dark nights, when I thought I couldn’t go on, when all hope seemed lost. And I remembered you. I remembered. Through it all.”
Shaw smiled fleetingly. “I have so many stories to tell you.”
“Later,” I leaned forward, kissing her as the city burned around us.
“What in the hell?” Chief Bourbonjack stormed to our side, causing me to break the kiss prematurely. Snakeoil stood beside him, and past him I saw Hijak, who had apparently come up to check on us.
“Nice to see you, too, Chief,” she said.
“You’re supposed to be dead.”
“Am I?” She glanced down at her jumpsuit in mock surprise. “Seems intel was wrong. Yet again.”
“I don’t believe we’ve made the acquaintance,” Hijak said, coming forward to extend a gloved hand.
“Shaw,” she said, shaking it.
Hijak grinned widely. “Hijak.”
I felt a surge of jealousy but Hijak defused it by sending a goofy thumbs-up my way.
The Chief glanced toward the alien mech looming at the rooftop’s edge. Skullcracker remained beside it, as if standing guard. “Looks like you’ve made yourself some powerful friends while you were gone.”
“A few,” Shaw agreed.
“Can we trust them?” Chief Bourbonjack said.
“Yes.”
The Chief frowned. “Never trust visitors bringing unexpected gifts. Especially when the cost of those gifts remains undisclosed.”
“There is no cost,” a voice boomed from across the rooftop.
The golden mech was approaching.
Chief Bourbonjack spun toward the giant robot and fumbled for his weapon.
I pulled away from Shaw, instinctively slipping my own rifle down by its straps from my shoulder. Because I’d taken off my bulky gloves, the weapon felt a bit too big for my hands. But it was definitely still usable.
Shaw pushed my barrel down. “Rade.” She drew my gaze. “Azen is on our side.”
I glanced toward the mech and couldn’t help but feel awe. The robot moved with amazing grace for such a massive machine. There was no whir of servomotors, no hum of un
seen hydraulics, only the thud of each unerring footfall.
Skullcracker kept pace beside it, unafraid.
“Azen?” I said.
“Yes.” Shaw turned toward Chief Bourbonjack. “Chief. Trust me.”
He didn’t respond, keeping his rifle aimed squarely at the alien mech.
“Trust me.” Shaw touched his barrel.
The Chief looked away from the gun sights to meet her eyes, and then reluctantly lowered the rifle.
The mech halted a few paces from us and I had to crane my neck to keep its head within view.
“Rade, Chief,” Shaw said. “Meet Azen. Azen, this is Rade, the one I told you about. And this is his Chief.”
I regarded the towering mech uncertainly. “Uh, hi?”
“Hello, Rade Galaal,” the mech intoned in perfect English. The head remained expressionless, though its red visual sensor slightly brightened in sync with each audible syllable. “I have heard much about you. And Chief Bourbonjack, you have been mentioned as well.” The voice didn’t sound muffled in any way, which made me wonder where the external speakers were.
“You are an advanced alien AI?” I said.
Shaw was the one who answered. “Azen is a Phant.”
“Well that’s just wonderful.” I felt suddenly nauseous. I knew an alien would pilot the mech but I had thought it would either be an AI, as I said, or some conquered subspecies that had rebelled against the Phants. Not the Phants themselves. “You’ve gone and allied with our enemy.”
“These particular Phants aren’t the enemy. Azen belongs to a completely different faction.”
“Faction?”
“The stealth tech your soldiers have put together is quite interesting,” Azen interceded, changing the subject. “I can sense your individual presences . . . it feels almost like you are host bodies of some kind, housing Phants. And yet, the signatures of the Phants supposedly possessing you are aberrant somehow. I suspect if I attempted to physically close with any of you in this dimension I would be repelled. A most surprising innovation for a species of your limited technology.”
“Why are you helping us, Phant?” Chief Bourbonjack said, obviously attempting to steer the conversation back down the previous path.
The golden mech cocked its head as if receiving some incoming transmission to its internal AI. “I will explain everything later. We must evacuate the surface immediately.”
Chief Bourbonjack frowned. “Why?”
“There isn’t much time.” Azen gestured toward the streets below. “Already the enemy flees underground.”
Below, I could see the crabs, slugs, and robots retreating from the barrage of particle fire; they vanished within the geronium that caked the buildings, courtesy of the many holes drilled into the resin.
Many of the golden mechs pursued, diving into the pits after them.
“They’re fleeing because of you,” the Chief said.
“Not entirely,” Azen replied. “Look.” The mech pointed skyward.
In the distance, a wall of flame sheathed the sky, partially eclipsing Bogey 2 behind it. The Skull Ship seemed to be breaking away from the surface.
“The coronal weapon,” Hijak said, sounding stunned.
“Yes,” Azen agreed. “They hope to wipe out our ground units while expending as little resources as possible. The plasma travels slower in atmosphere, but it is no less deadly. We must hurry.” The golden mech turned its expressionless head toward me. “Shaw has maps of the subterranean warrens beneath the city. Exchange data with her. I’ve marked out a sinkhole that intrudes upon the pedway system in quadrant three. Proceed down that sinkhole, then rendezvous with me and my troops at the designated waypoint underground. Go!”
“What about our nuclear payload?” Hijak said.
“You won’t need it.” The alien mech leaped from the rooftop, vanishing from view.
Aware of that encroaching wall of destruction, I quickly gathered up my helmet and gloves. Shaw did likewise.
“Time to fly!” the Chief said.
I raced down the stairwell. Along the way, I offered Shaw the city blueprints via aReal. She rejected my request, explaining that Azen had given them to her already.
It was scary how much of our knowledge the Phants had.
An “incoming data” request from Shaw came up on my aReal in return. When I accepted, the warren of tunnels underneath the city filled out on my HUD, and a flashing waypoint appeared some distance within it. I forwarded the data to the Chief for retransmission to the rest of the squad.
Shaw also sent along an app called “shockwave impact simulation.”
“What’s this?” I asked her as I accepted.
“Just a little something I wrote during my downtime.”
The app overlaid the coronal discharge from Bogey 2 as an expanding circle on my HUD map, representing its position with respect to the city. A countdown timer appeared in the lower right corner of my HUD. Ninety-nine seconds. Ninety-eight. Ninety-seven. It appeared to be the time before the outskirts of the corona engulfed my position.
We reached the intensive care ward on the second floor and rejoined the rest of the squad. Everyone was up and about by then, including Manic. When Shaw entered the ward, the men greeted her with surprise and wonder. There wasn’t time for social niceties however, so we packed up and got the hell out of there. Shaw attached herself to Tung immediately, and scooped the kid over her shoulders, despite Giger’s protests that he was the one in charge of the child.
“Who do you want to carry you, Tung?” Giger asked, sounding utterly confident the child would pick him.
“Shaw!” Tung said.
Deflated, Giger bowed his head, agreeing to the child’s whim.
Shaw told Tung to wear his aReal visor. The kid did so, and then he clung to her chest as a boy would his mother.
The squad hurried from the ward. I let Shaw go in front of me because I wanted to keep her in my line of sight at all times.
Chief Bourbonjack distributed the new map data as well as the “shockwave impact” app to the others. He explained the situation as we moved, sharing the vid he’d recorded of the horde’s frenzied withdrawal.
“Alien mechs?” Lui said when the Chief was done. “I almost can’t believe it, even after viewing the footage.” He glanced at Shaw. “Though I suppose if she’s here, anything is possible.”
On my aReal, the expanding sphere representing the coronal weapon had reached the outskirts of the city. My countdown indicator read: Fifty seconds. Forty-nine. Forty-eight.
“The outer edges of the corona have struck,” Shaw said, confirming my interpretation of her app. “In those places, the surface temperature is nearing five hundred degrees Celsius. We have to get to that sinkhole. Now.”
We took the underground pedway toward the indicated “quadrant three.” As was the case earlier, most of the emergency lights had failed and we proceeded almost entirely under the light of our headlamps.
We passed an underground subway station platform and the motionless escalators that came with it. We had to crawl over debris in places where portions of the pedway had collapsed.
Without a jumpsuit, Giger fared the worst among us. His shirt was soaking wet and he panted wildly, moving so slowly that I was obligated to help him. Because of that, I ended up in the drag position. Even so, I kept Shaw in sight. Tung remained in her arms, the child-sized aReal covering his eyes and keeping out the rest of the world.
The ground fell away up ahead, in the region corresponding to our target sinkhole. Judging from the fifteen-meter diameter, it had been tunneled by a very large slug. The descent was a steep seventy-five degrees.
On my HUD map, the circle representing the coronal discharge had almost reached our position. The countdown was down to the final seconds.
Three.
Two.
&nb
sp; “Inside!” the Chief ordered.
One.
Ahead of me, my squad members leaped into the broad hole at almost the same time.
Giger faltered beside me.
I wrapped my arms tightly around him and took the plunge. The back of my suit collided with the sloping surface of the shaft almost immediately and I proceeded down into the murk.
Just in time, too, because above, flames from the coronal discharge swept through the former pedway passage.
The environment cooled as I descended into the bowels of the moon. My squad brothers slid at various points along the shaft below me. The light from our headlamps illuminated the smooth surface, which seemed a blur beneath us—it looked like we were the ones who were motionless, while the tunnel moved.
Checking my map, I discovered that the shaft continued for some time at this angle of descent, tunneling about two klicks into the bedrock beneath the city before leveling off.
My limited jumpjet capacity might have been able to slow me down for a moment, but otherwise I was committed: There was nothing I could do save surrender to the slide. I had to hope that when the tunnel finally bottomed out, the squad wouldn’t find itself neck-deep in crabs and slugs.
Giger clung tightly to me. I purposely kept him positioned on top of my suit, away from the surface, as I didn’t want him to get any friction burns. Occasional bumps and dips jerked my body so that it wasn’t the most enjoyable descent for either of us.
Still, some of my squad brothers liked it, apparently.
“Waahooooo!” Bender transmitted. Though our faceplates were open, it was far easier to communicate over the comm given the distance separating each individual squad member. “Anyone gone on the ‘Wacky Wild’ at the New Corona amusement park? This is like that, baby, except better!”
“This reminds me more of luging,” Shaw sent. I couldn’t actually see her, but according to my HUD map she was just in front of Bender. She would still be holding Tung, of course. The kid was in good hands.
“Luging?” Bender answered. “Never heard of it.”
“Try watching the Winter Olympics sometime. Usually it’s done with sleds and ice though, not jumpsuits and caves.”
