Skybreach (The Reach #3)

by Mark R. Healy

  “Knile! Where are you?”

  “In the elevator, on the way to the roof. We’re finally in range with these damn short-range comms. Couldn’t get you on the earpiece earlier.”

  “I hope you brought an army with you.”

  “Not exactly.”

  “How far away are you?”

  “Take a look over at the elevator, and get ready. We’re coming through.”

  “Take a look over at the elevator, and get ready,” Knile said. “We’re coming through.”

  Talia said something in return, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of someone shouting in her vicinity. Knile turned the RECS slightly so that he could see the others in the elevator car.

  “Ready?” he said.

  “Born ready,” Roman said, flexing the arms of his RECS theatrically.

  “Now remember,” Remus said, “you’re going to want to avoid any direct physical confrontations with the Redmen if at all possible. Draw their fire, take a few hits, and you’ll give Team Alpha a chance to come at them from the other side. That has to be the objective.”

  “Yeah, we get it,” Roman said drily. “We’re basically target practice.”

  “Don’t worry, this will work,” Remus said, as if he were trying to convince himself of the fact. “This will work.”

  The elevator slid up the final few metres with far less grace than the last time Knile had made the journey. A disconcerting whine issued forth, accompanied by a scraping sound, possibly the result of damage that had been caused by the blast, but then it came smoothly to a halt.

  They waited for the doors to open, and for a horrible moment Knile thought they might be locked inside, confounded at the last step of the journey, but then the doors slid apart.

  The last orange-red slashes of sunlight cut through the twilight above, just as they had the last time Knile had been here. Ahead, the railcar waited at the foot of the Wire, surrounded by a throng that included technicians, Redmen in glinting metal suits, and Team Alpha. Knile could still hear shouting through his earpiece, and from the body language of those gathered, it seemed clear that a major disagreement was going on. Talia was gesturing angrily at one of the technicians, and a Redman was advancing on Holger with his pulse rifle raised.

  “Not a moment too soon,” Knile said. “Remus, hit the emergency stop button on the elevator. We don’t want it heading back down to the Atrium to pick up any Redmen reinforcements if we can help it.”

  He started forward, and Roman followed close behind in his RECS. In his rearview camera he could see Duran and Zoe falling in behind and crouching as they came, in order to keep a low profile. He saw Remus as well, looking about the interior of the elevator car. Then Remus threw up his hands helplessly.

  “There’s no stop button,” he said.

  “Seriously?” Knile said.

  “Yeah, seriously.”

  “Stay there and bar the door with your arm,” Zoe suggested. “We’ll come back for you.”

  Remus nodded. “Got it.” He hunkered down at the edge of the elevator and draped his hand across the door, keeping low as Zoe and Duran had done.

  Knile returned his focus to the task at hand. Before him was a narrow pathway that opened out into the platform that surrounded the railcar. There, things were escalating quickly. The patience of the Redmen had evidently worn out, as they had begun to surround Talia and the others with their pulse rifles held at the ready.

  Knile twisted the volume button on the loudspeaker of his RECS as high as it would go.

  “Good afternoon!” he yelled. Behind him, Duran and Zoe covered their ears, disconcerted by the clamour, and ahead, the Redmen turned as one to look at him. “Can someone tell me the way to the observation deck?”

  The Redmen stared at them in confusion for a moment, then two of them ran forward and fidgeted with something at their feet. Moments later, thick alloy floor panels snapped open to ninety degrees, creating a pair of waist-high defensive shields. The Redmen ducked behind the newly created cover and took aim.

  “Stand down!” one of them called out. “Identify yourselves!”

  Okay, the moment of truth, Knile thought. Are these things as tough as Remus seems to think they are?

  “Say again?” Knile said, continuing to move the RECS forward. “I can’t hear a thing through this tin can.”

  The Redmen seemed to communicate something amongst themselves, then dispensed with caution. They opened fire. The first pulse round came at Knile like a blue thunderbolt, hitting the RECS square in the chest and knocking it backward, creating a sound like a sledge hammer hitting a hollow drum. Knile’s head smacked painfully against the interior wall, and he thought for certain that the RECS would topple over, but it seemed to compensate for the blow automatically, the weight shifting and the stumpy legs of the machine moving rapidly to keep it upright. For a split second Knile wondered if there might be some kind of gyroscope or accelerometer built in to the system, but those musings were promptly slapped out of his head by the second, third and fourth pulse rounds.

  Although it had been jolted badly, the hull of the RECS did not seem to have been penetrated yet. Another round connected, and a klaxon went off inside the cockpit, accompanied by a bright red warning lamp.

  Knile had no idea specifically what that might be indicating, but he could probably guess. And it wasn’t anything good.

  Behind him he saw Roman’s RECS also being buffeted by pulse rounds, which left large black scorch marks in their wake.

  “We need to keep moving forward,” Knile called to him. Another pulse round made him shudder to the side. “Get off this walkway. We’re sitting ducks here.”

  “Go!” was all Roman replied.

  Knile shoved the controls forward, gritting his teeth, trying to weave side-to-side to avoid the barrage, but the going was slow. Worse, the heat had risen considerably inside the cockpit. Either the cooling system had been trashed, or the sheer heat of the pulse round impacts was turning the RECS into a giant oven.

  What do I do when the heat inside becomes unbearable? he thought dismally. Stay inside and roast like a dinner turkey, or step outside and wear a pulse round in the face?

  He pushed forward, sweat running down his cheeks, as another round smacked into the RECS, twisting at the controls in his hands.

  The end of the pathway seemed like an eternity away.

  Roman brought up the arms of the RECS to brace himself as Knile’s machine was sent sprawling back into him again. Although he’d taken a few pulse rounds himself, he imagined it must have been infinitely worse for Knile out in front. The guy was taking a pounding. The only positive was that the RECS seemed to be handling the punishment so far.

  He gave Knile a shove forward and fell in behind again. Knile grunted as he set off.

  “Getting a bit warm in here,” Knile said.

  “How’re you doing?”

  “Somewhere between medium and well done.”

  Roman glanced ahead, seeing the Redmen lined out behind their shields, and briefly wondered what had possessed him to volunteer for this madness.

  You’ve got no one to blame but yourself, he thought. You said you wanted to be thrown into the thick of it, so here you are. Deal with it.

  Beyond the first two Redmen, the third stood with his rifle drawn on Team Alpha. He supposed that, right now, there was not much Talia and the others could do. Any act of aggression on their part would be met with instant retaliation, and without armour or any kind of cover, they would not last long against a pulse rifle.

  Roman and Knile had to make it to the end of the pathway and draw the Redman away. That would be the only chance Talia and the others had to mount an offensive.

  More pulse rounds exploded around them, and the RECS crashed against one another with a bone-jarring thud. Roman reeled, then steadied his controls. He gave Knile another shove with the machine’s claws to get him moving in the right direction.

  “Goddammit,” Knile gasped. “They’re gonna
have to scrape what’s left of me off the walls of this thing, the way this is going.”

  Roman moved behind again, and this time he lifted the claws of the RECS, clamping onto the shoulders of Knile’s machine. He pushed forward with everything he had.

  “Let’s go!” Roman said.

  “What’re you–?”

  “You just got a promotion from target practice to human shield.”

  Knile reacted quickly, falling into step with Roman’s RECS, and together they began to build up momentum. Several more pulse rounds caused them to falter, but then their speed gathered, and they pushed onward through the incoming barrage. The impacts against Knile’s RECS shuddered through into Roman’s, but they kept at it, careening headlong across the path like a locomotive.

  With his field of view restricted by the bulk of the RECS before him, Roman had difficulty figuring out how well they were making progress. He looked to the side and instantly regretted it – beyond the edge of the path was the curving surface of the roof, and then a great abyss that dropped away into nothingness.

  Okay, that’s something you want to avoid–

  Suddenly, Knile was yelling.

  “Go right, go right!”

  Roman released his grip, and as Knile moved to the left he saw that they had reached the wider section of the platform. Roman veered his controls to the right as more pulse rounds scattered around him. He chanced a look back at the Redmen, and saw that they had split up. Now they were moving away from their barriers in pursuit of the RECS, obviously not relishing the prospect of being flanked.

  The third Redman had also given up on watching over the railcar passengers, and had now joined the fray.

  Behind the Redman, Roman could already see Holger, Talia and the others snatching up their cases and heading for cover behind the blocky devices situated around the railcar. Lazarus, too, was in the process of drawing himself up from the wheelchair with unhurried movements.

  It’s working. Holy shit, it’s working!

  Roman’s moment of elation was short-lived as he spotted one of the Redmen descending upon his position at a rapid pace. He recalled Remus’ suggestion that they avoid any kind of physical contact with their enemy, and he began to survey the area around him frantically.

  There didn’t appear to be anywhere he could go.

  37

  Aron Lazarus had waited long enough.

  He watched the hateful form of Murtas Dux leave the safety of the core shield, barking an order over his shoulder as he began to chase after one of the metal monstrosities that had come lumbering out of the elevator.

  Nearby, the Redman who had been watching over them, Plinsk, responded to the command and moved to assist the other two. Silvestri, Holger and the others seized their opportunity, clasping their weapons cases and hastening toward cover.

  Lazarus had been instructed earlier – in no uncertain terms – that Silvestri was in tactical command of the operation. Lazarus was to act only as instructed. That meant falling in line with the whims of Skybreach’s leader, placing his own desires second.

  Now that he was here, however, and now that he was close enough to smell Murtas’ stinking breath, Lazarus could not contain his anger. His rage. This man had to die, and only Lazarus himself could mete out the sentence.

  He could not abide Holger, Silvestri, or Knile spoiling his revenge by inadvertently killing the Dux.

  Lazarus got to his feet and shrugged back the cowl. He began to move forward with deliberate steps, unwinding the bandages from his face as he went.

  Murtas was already disappearing behind the network of blocky machines that dotted the platform. Lazarus ripped away the last of the bandages and lifted his pace as he gave chase.

  In a moment of introspection, he realised that it was not his wish to jeopardise Skybreach’s plan. It would be dishonourable of him to willingly thwart their scheme in pursuit of his own revenge. However, he would not be taking orders from anyone this day. He had already warned Silvestri and the others that he was here to satisfy his own ends. He had been truthful from the outset.

  With that in mind, Lazarus came with one goal: to see Murtas die at his own hands. That much was certain. Lazarus had not given much thought to what might happen after that occurred, such was the singularity of his purpose. He supposed that he would decide upon a subsequent course of action when he was freed of his responsibilities.

  Lazarus worked his large frame through the machines, many of which were taller even than he. Hearing movement on his right, he turned to see Silvestri plucking assault rifles from a case on the floor. Silvestri glanced at him, then slid one of the rifles across toward him. It bumped against Lazarus’ boot.

  “Lazarus, take that and head to the southern end,” Silvestri said. He slapped a magazine into a second rifle and got to his feet. “Holger is there and–”

  “No,” Lazarus said flatly. He stepped disdainfully over the rifle and kept moving north, toward where Murtas had disappeared.

  “Lazarus!” Silvestri hissed angrily, but in moments he had been left behind as Lazarus continued onward.

  He stepped out of cover and saw Murtas not far away, closing in on one of the contraptions. The edge of the platform lay not far beyond; a precipitous drop into nothingness.

  Lazarus began to run.

  Knile had to get out of this death trap, and he needed to do it quickly.

  Although the RECS had stood up admirably to the barrage of pulse rounds thus far, Knile could tell that its resistance was very close to the end. Apart from the heat inside the cockpit, he could now discern a number of concave bulges in the hull, and in one section he could see specs of daylight filtering through. Through the windows he could also see steam, or perhaps smoke, wafting up from below.

  He could only conclude that the residue left by the pulse rounds was eating through the alloy hull of the RECS, and that wasn’t a pleasant thought.

  Even so, he wasn’t sure he had any choice but to stay where he was. If he were to step outside the machine, the pulse rounds would slice through his flesh and bone with little resistance. He wouldn’t last more than a few seconds in all likelihood.

  He turned and saw one of the Redmen coming at him. There was a menacing look in the man’s eyes behind his full-face breathing mask. He had replaced the pulse rifle behind his back, obviously deciding that it wasn’t doing much good, and now he held what looked to be some kind of gold-tinted short sword with wickedly sharp edges.

  Knile turned and readied the arms of the RECS, hoping to keep the Redman at bay, but then he saw movement nearby. It was Silvestri, armed with an assault rifle, taking aim from behind one of the machines that surrounded the railcar.

  Silvestri loosed a controlled burst that clattered against the Redman’s arm and back, sending sparks flying and causing him to turn in alarm. The second burst hit him in the chest and forced him to stagger backward.

  The Redman loosed a roar of frustration and pulled his pulse rifle from his back, aiming it directly at Silvestri, but then he seemed to hesitate. Knile waited for the retaliation to come, then realised that the Redman must have been concerned about firing at the systems contained in the machines in which Silvestri hid – systems that the railcar relied upon for operation.

  If those machines were destroyed, and replacements were not readily available, the railcar would not be going anywhere.

  That meant everyone, including the Redmen, would be left stranded.

  Knile shoved at the controls of the RECS, moving it forward at the Redman, intending to knock him down if he could. As he neared, he saw from the corner of his eye that Lazarus had roused himself and was now circling in from behind, charging at the Redman from the opposite direction. The two of them collided with the Redman simultaneously, smashing him in a bone-jarring sandwich, and the three of them were then sent spinning and bouncing away like ninepins. The edge of the platform loomed before Knile, and he saw the dizzying drop to the wastelands right at his feet. Terrified, he realised he
wasn’t going to have time to stop, and that he would plunge to his death – but then the gyro kicked in, righting the RECS abruptly, and Knile halted his momentum just in time.

  He swung the RECS around to see Lazarus and the Redman picking themselves up off the platform. The pulse rifle had fallen within reach of Lazarus, but instead of using it against the Redman, he reached out and clasped the weapon, then hurled it away.

  “Murtas!” he roared, his blue eyes positively glowing. “The time has come for you to answer for your misdeeds.”

  Knile started forward again, the arms of the RECS raised, but Lazarus held out a palm to forestall him.

  “No!” he said. “Leave us.”

  Knile paused for a moment, but one look at Lazarus’ face told him that there was no point arguing. Lazarus would not be swayed. Not about this.

  The two opposing Redmen stood staring at each other, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath, and Knile turned the RECS back in the direction he had come.

  He had to find Roman.

  Talia followed Holger to the south as they weaved through the cover of the terminals in pursuit of another of the Redmen. Aksel and Yun had remained with Morgan as they’d bailed up the two technicians near the railcar, ensuring that word did not get out to the Consortium that the roof was under attack. Behind her, Talia could hear gunfire. She did not know who was shooting at what, or even who might be alive or dead. The bulk of the terminals served as both a help and a hindrance – shielding them from prying eyes, but also preventing them from seeing what was going on.

  “Here,” Holger said distractedly, thrusting an assault rifle at her as he ducked between the machines. “Take this.”

  “I’ve never used hardware like this before,” she said, taking the weapon uncertainly.

  “Then I hope you’re a fast learner.”

  There was a loud bang nearby, the nature of which Talia couldn’t determine, and the two of them came to a sudden halt.

  “What was that?” she said.

  “Let’s hope it’s something bad for the Redmen,” Holger muttered.