Suffrage (World Key Chronicles Book 1)

by Julian St Aubyn Green

  Mack peered back towards the southern end of the train, patting China reassuringly and standing to face that direction. The bracelets are only good for three minutes, she thought, hesitant to activate them until the last possible moment, but worried the cloaked drones would kill her before she got the chance. She needed some kind of warning.

  Looking down, the floor was littered with the discarded phones and electronic gadgetry of the passengers. She stomped two phones to pieces and threw them down the aisle, hoping the noise would alert her, before turning back towards the screaming.

  Heinrich monitored the flow of the battle. With his exhaustion, he wasn’t in a position to directly participate and it was a stupid general that put himself in direct danger.

  “Sire, there are aircraft inbound on our position,” Thalia reported, breaking his concentration.

  “Zoom out, bring them up on the map,” he commanded.

  As the holographic landscape on the bridge around the ship zoomed out, it showed the city in greater detail and revealed the inbound aircraft. Two larger aircraft, obviously manned and moving at speed, and five smaller craft, probably unmanned. The smaller ones were closer, but the larger aircraft would arrive at their positions first. Moving rapidly towards the ship, they were still several kilometers out.

  “Bring up the shields to maximum deflection. We don’t know the range of their weapons. Have the fore and aft gunnery crews target all missiles and aircraft as they approach within range. Fire at will.”

  The Songstress was a big target. The aircraft couldn’t miss as missiles arced away from sponsons towards the silvery vessel. In response, the forward gun cannonade spun in their direction and started a series of salvos, filling the air around them with a devastating web of energy.

  Anna growled in frustration through the drone’s audio. After making her way past the turnstiles and through a hastily dropped barrier that tore like paper in the face of the combined strength of three drones, she entered the main train tunnel, where she could once again engage the jump pack. Her target was ahead, inside a primitive train. Two of the other drones were further away, approaching from the other direction along the tunnel. The final drone was almost there.

  Anna’s low light view revealed a crowd of people streaming out the doors at the front of the train and leaping onto the tracks, blocking her path. She could fly over their heads, but the panicked masses also jammed the train door. She needed to clear them away or she would never reach the Rebels in time to stop their transit.

  She dropped her cloak and engaged external lights, illuminating the shocked and surprised faces of those in front of her. Thalia mimicked her actions and the two drones flanking her added their own lights as they flew down the tunnel.

  As the screaming commenced, she fired the vibrational blades in her arms directly towards the doorway. Anyone too stupid to get out of the way, she was going through.

  “What the hell is that?” Philippe pointed at the screen as an armored, seven-foot-tall robot used some kind of energy weapon to cut through a steel grating on the street. During its efforts, it completely ignored the small arms fire poured in its direction by nearby police.

  “Royal assassin drone. That’s what I was trying to describe in my presentation. It was invisible until China managed to damage it,” Stanford replied.

  Philippe listened intently as the scientist continued. “The girl, Jay, she’s the one who destroyed the drone in Florida. There must be a way to see through the cloak. Ultraviolet maybe, I don’t know. The woman called Sarge was able to see it with her cybernetic eye, otherwise it would have killed us all before we even knew it was there.”

  Philippe studied the human-shaped drone for weaknesses as it stood, examining something below it through the hole. It completely ignored the police, but he noted that their rounds impacted. No shield, must rely on its armor. All the rounds from the police hit, but weren’t striking anywhere that did significant damage. Philippe would have targeted joins in the armor where the legs met the main trunk. As he watched, a bulbous attachment on the drone’s back disengaged, falling to the pavement. It jumped through the hole in the grating and the police stopped firing.

  “How big was the explosion when the girl destroyed it?” Philippe asked as his eyebrows dipped downwards.

  “Big enough to turn it into shrapnel. If Jay hadn’t shielded us, the concussion effect alone would have killed us,” Stanford replied somberly.

  “Where do you think those explosives are located?” Philippe asked.

  Stanford stared into space, taking a long moment before answering. “Middle of the chest maybe, behind the thickest armor plates in the cavity with the power source. Impact that and it might set off the explosives.”

  Through the overwhelming pain, Sarge curled her fingers. It was a start. Enough to move it, at least. It still felt like a useless hunk of metal filled with killer bees hanging off her shoulder, but it was a good sign. She tried to ignore it and blinked rapidly, trying to restore her compromised vision and focus on her firing lines. The screams from the north end of the train weren’t stopping. The drones were close and she strained, trying to pinpoint their position. Drones usually ran silent and cloaked, preferring to sneak into position and engage targets at close range. That was why she’d chosen a steel tube with only two linear avenues of attack in which to face them. Even with my compromised vision, I can still fire down the train and expect to damage them.

  There was no warning as the window at the side of carriage exploded inwards in a shower of glass and an uncloaked drone dropped soundlessly onto the steel floor. Shit. Sarge spun, cybernetic arm raised as a whirring blade spun towards her. The blade struck the artificial skeleton of her forearm with a sound like a blacksmith’s hammer. Deflected away, the blade buried itself into the steel side of the carriage. Snake screamed, bent over Sheila, and pleaded with her to finish rebooting and begin the transfer.

  Sarge brought the shinkari rifle up, shooting indiscriminately in order to lay down suppression fire. She got a lucky hit, spinning the drone as it drew both of its energy pistols and causing one of the weapons to land among the seats.

  “Online,” came the voice of Sheila.

  “Shield!” Snake screamed, plucking desperately at the strings as the drone let loose with its second energy pistol towards him. The small shinkari glanced off the hasty harmonic shield he threw up, peppering the ceiling with small holes. Each shot imploded and subsequently exploded with sounds like a child tossing firecrackers down a well.

  Sarge brought her rifle into firing position, using Snake’s shield as cover. However, before she could fire, shinkari slammed into the drone’s head, tearing chunks out of the armor. Spinning wildly, the robot started blasting in all directions. Sarge ducked to avoid the spray of bolts and spotted Mack crouching with the drone’s first dropped pistol in hand a few seats down.

  Sarge heard China grunt through clenched teeth. A small concussive blast slid China towards the drone. With her heart in her throat, Sarge saw one blast from their spinning adversary barely miss him. Firing off-hand and with no depth perception, she couldn’t make a kill shot. She couldn’t see Mack anywhere and it occurred to her that the medic must have engaged her bracelets to avoid detection.

  China slid into the drone’s legs, holding its ankles in both hands and bringing his repulsors into the fight. One foot collided with the groin while the second aimed at its head as it bent, trying to bring its remaining handgun to bear. He let loose, and screamed as the pressure drove him into the steel floor.

  China’s blast, focused at the damaged multi-eyed head, was powerful enough to snap the drone back and unbalance it. Sarge swore, trying to bring the rifle around and steady the stock for a kill shot. A hazy ghost behind the robot, caused by her recovering optics, lunged toward the robot.

  Amid sparks, a Mack-shaped visual disturbance drove her knife into one of the drone’s optics with deadly accuracy and wrenched the knife back and forth to maximize damage. The machine
collapsed to its knees, releasing the second pistol. China spun from his position on the ground and scooped up the pistol. After a sweeping kick with a blast, the robot lay prone. He pulled the trigger, and the volley of energy shredded the machine’s head as he roared his defiance.

  With the head gone, it can’t communicate. Sarge whirled back towards the end of the carriage as her eye finally engaged, with some pain. It wasn’t perfect. She wouldn’t like to try a sniper shot with it, but it was enough to see the cloudy shapes of three additional drones. Too many to handle at once. She just hoped they’d delayed the ship long enough for the Americans to get in a few hits.

  “Transfer sequence!” she commanded as the imagery in her eye flickered in and out from the recent power overload. “China, Mack, get your asses back here!” She fired through the doors, pulse rifle sending concentrated bolts of destructive energy as the drones on the other side of the carriage attempted to return fire. The combined efforts turned doors and glass into Swiss cheese.

  “Keep your pants on, lover,” China yelled back, sliding the energy pistol in his hand towards Snake as a pair of invisible hands made him start.

  “Sorry,” Mack apologized as she helped the man to his feet.

  Sarge concentrated, sending bolt after bolt lancing towards the drones. One dropped and she calculated range. “Hurry it up, Snake,” she bellowed, standing up and firing a large burst from her shinkari rifle.

  “Strewth, I’m a musician, not a front-line fighter!” he yelled back. As the sounds of the harmonic transfer sequence started, he yelled. “Okay—five seconds, the notes we discussed.”

  In her peripheral vision, Sarge saw China and a translucent Mack hurry over to the musician. She swore while her vision cut in and out. As they moved, the crunch of strewn pieces of phones alerted Sarge to danger. “Behind you!”

  From next to China, shots rang out as Mack fired in the opposite direction. Dammit! Sarge couldn’t switch targets to suppress the new threat without potentially hitting the medic. Taking a chance that Mack could hold them off for the seconds they needed, she focused a deadly barrage into the supine robot, trying to bypass the main chest plate and hit the crystal battery. She waited until the last possible moment and then dived for Snake and China. She was mid-air and singing madly when gripped by the transfer energy as the bubble expanded to include her. Beyond the bubble, the world outside rippled with flames and burgeoning smoke as the drone exploded.

  Anna gasped for air as she sat bolt upright and hit her face on the neural weave suspended just above her. The tinkle of crystalline connections and fine platinum wires made a sound like soft wind chimes. The attendant physician was immediately at her side, pulling away the electronic connections not specifically tasked with monitoring her vitals.

  “My lady, that was a sudden disconnection. Are you in any pain?” started the physician, taking out a light with the intention of shining it into Anna’s eyes. Anna held up a hand and waved him away. The man was persistent, but her intimidating stare made him back away.

  “Don’t ever touch me. I’m fine. Surprised is all. Just … a little woozy.”

  Thalia’s form materialized in a shimmering blue ballgown as an impact tremor shuddered through the deck beneath them. “His Majesty requests your status, Countess. I’ve already relayed the events to him. The other drones continue to attack, but the Rebels transferred and are no longer in range of my scanners.”

  “Sneaky little rats. They detonated one of the drone’s power cores right next to me. Tell His Majesty I’m fine. I was forcibly disconnected and merely need a moment to find my legs.”

  Sliding her legs off the comms chair, she attempted to stand. Her knees nearly buckled as the deck vibrated again, more violently than before. Worry shadowed Anna’s features. “Thalia, what’s our status? What’s happening to The Songstress?”

  “Countess, the ship sustained minor damage from small arms fire due to the lowered shields when we released the pulse. We have the shields back up, but are experiencing a heavy counterattack by aircraft. This realm seems to have a considerable supply of missiles. There have been over fifty strikes against our shields,” came the calm, feminine reply that betrayed none of the concern such a situation warranted.

  Anna swore like a sailor for a long moment and started ripping the monitoring equipment off herself. With a demanding look to the doctor, the physician wilted and hurried to help her out of the piloting center and towards the bridge. Thalia floated along behind.

  As Anna entered the bridge, Heinrich slammed his fist into the console and swore. “Scheiße!” It was always a possibility that they would retreat at the first sign of attack, but this mission was too important for failure. Anna knew a world key, the future of this timeline, were at stake. “We were so close this time …”

  As she approached the king, he frowned, lost to whatever dark thoughts their situation sparked in his memory. Sometimes, she wished she had telepathy like one of Mycroft’s children and could tell what he was thinking. The king’s eyebrows lifted marginally and a modicum of the tension in his face fell away as she stepped closer.

  The deck shuddered slightly as a bright yellow flash came from their starboard side. Outside, the crawl of flames splayed across the shields. It had only been minutes since the ship was spotted. Such a fast response. This was an unexpected pounding.

  “Cease bombardment and begin transfer protocols, Thalia. Find us someplace safe until we can trace these rats again,” the king commanded.

  Thalia’s form bowed as the air shimmered slightly, kinetic energy shields diffusing several more explosions. Anna moved to check main battery levels. With the levels still comfortable, she turned her attention to the holographic display of the battle and the main viewing screens.

  While not as powerful as the main gun, the small cannonade emplacements she’d jury rigged together weaved a dangerous pattern in the air that several of the attacking planes failed to avoid.

  Flaming meteors of debris smashed to pieces and rained down on the city of New York. No one was left alive below. At least, no one within sight.

  Anna admired the efforts of the gunnery crews and once again marveled at the might of the lightship. Even wounded by the prince, nothing here could touch her. The damage that The Songstress dealt shredded the fronts of any building in her firing line, though she directed most of her aim at the attacking craft and the local authorities. Smoking craters filled every street within view of the mighty warship; bodies and dismembered parts filled many spaces between.

  “Damn the Rebels. And these foolish people. Damn them all!” Heinrich’s voice grabbed her attention as the king leaned heavily on the console in front of him.

  “Thalia. Send the self-destruct sequence to the remaining drones. Leave no trace.” He collapsed into his chair, hands in fists tight enough to draw blood where his nails dug into his palms.

  “What’s wrong, Your Majesty?”

  “Thalia reported four Rebels in the train tunnel,” the king replied, “but in Rio there were five.”

  To Anna, the conclusion was obvious. The Rebel team had split. One group a diversionary tactic to engage them and play hide and seek, the other to look for the world key. We weren’t able to track them immediately after the ship was damaged. We have no idea where the other Rebel is and Heinrich said only Mycroft knows the locations of the keys. Damn.

  With a hum, The Songstress’s quantum tag reactivated. Her beautiful, silvery hull was now marred by pockmarks from the primitive ballistics weapons of this realm. As silvery transfer mist clouded the ship, more explosions from the remaining active drones’ self destruction caused smoke to belch out of the subway tunnels.

  In the final moments before transfer, Anna watched as the king turned to Thalia’s avatar. His face was a mixture of rage and determination. His voice was steady, but the syllables oozed out from between clenched teeth. “I want all your efforts focused on disabling the codes on the satellites to reduce our trace times. We must run these ter
rorists to ground.”

  Anna nodded. Running them ragged is the best option, but for that we’ll need to conserve as much battery power as we can.

  She shifted her attention back to her console, trying to figure out how to squeeze as much efficiency out of the remaining power as she could. The crew might have to go without hot water and cooked meals for a while until the Rebels were caught.

  As the quantum transfer bubble receded, Sarge felt her husband’s urgent spank on her left buttock encouraging her to move. Her desperate dive towards the others back on the train resulted in her lying completely on top of him, an impact that had driven the wind from him. At least there was something soft underneath all of them, and wherever they were, their transit ended next to a large, blue beach umbrella that shielded their arrival from casual view.

  She glanced to one side. They were well back from the surf, near a grove of palm trees, with the sight of tall buildings behind them.

  “Not the right time for romance sweetheart—get off already.” China clenched his teeth in pain.

  That was too close. Overwhelmingly grateful that they had all made it, Sarge gave him a wink. “I don’t know, I’m feeling grateful we escaped.”

  Snake broke the playful mood she was going for. “Strewth, you three are heavy. I’m on the bottom. Move your fat asses.”

  Sarge heaved herself off of them, lifting as much equipment as she could except for the rifle, which she left in the sand as China rolled onto his knees carefully.

  Standing, she took a longer look around, hearing Snake behind her. “I can’t see you Mack, but you too. Having three people pressing on my tackle is not fun.” The sound of waves and the smell of salt gave her a brief moment of calm, reducing the adrenalin of their near escape by a couple of notches. Sea air somehow has that kind of effect.