“Go to our Marathon office. Assume control there. Do what you can to keep tabs on the Sidhe. If you can get our people onto the ship without causing major casualties, do so. Find a way to blame the explosion on something mechanical. Thin cover, as I said before, but we have few options. Rainhell will doubtless try to make it to the ship. Kill her if you can. Do it quietly. Exert what control you can over the investigation. Coordinate with Hagen. Keep ties with the Navy open; we may need their troops. I will be busy with Project Overman.”
Vaughn nodded. “Yes, my Lord.” He and Tanaka left.
Pard looked at Salmot and gestured toward Antebei’s corpse. “Have him reduced to fertilizer and used in the garden. May he serve us better there than he did in life.”
Salmot called the outside guards, then trailed Pard as he headed back to his room, deep in thought. Only an hour had passed, yet everything was different. Pard’s brain worked furiously. The timing of this debacle could not have been worse. Several of the Others were onworld, hidden in the Denshi complex. If necessary they could be disposed of, but the risk to Overman was immense. He would order it only as a last resort if the investigations came too close.
He regained his rooms, leaving Salmot just outside. Pard walked over to the huge window with its view of the desert mountains beyond. He could see little. The compound’s lights made the wilderness beyond their glow all the more impenetrable. Alone with his thoughts, he could no longer deny the truth.
Yes, Antebei, I am pleased by Fenaday’s death. The idea of Rainhell, the very stuff of my dreams, preferring another man does gall me. A standard human, not even a superior specimen, has Rainhell and has her willing and eager. She’s even conceived feelings for him, something I intended only to happen with me.
He remembered the surgeries to repair the damage she did to him. I’ll repay her, he thought, many times, in the same agonizing coin. If only I had known she was on the original team. I would have made her capture a priority. She’s a ruined dream now, unworthy of my attention. If she’s taken alive, I will hand her over to the interrogators for practice.
Chapter Sixteen
Fenaday crawled through the predawn darkness to the hillcrest where Mmok and Rask lay observing Pard’s complex. After hours of slow, tedious effort they’d arrived at the hills west of the complex undetected, thanks to Mmok’s cyber-sensors and robots. “What’s the situation?” he asked.
“Curious,” Mmok said, his usual antagonism to Fenaday buried by his professionalism. “The energy readings and movements that the HCRs and the airbot are detecting are far less than this complex should be showing, even allowing for the early hour.”
“Which means,” said a grim-faced Rask, “either they’re expecting us or, for some reason, the complex is mostly empty.”
“Well, well,” Mmok said. “A pretty problem. You’re the captain. What do you say?”
Fenaday looked out over the complex and shivered as the cold desert wind picked up. The complex contained an assortment of twenty solid Empire-style buildings dotted by lights. The green of his night vision painted the ornate buildings, festooned with statues and columns, only in shades of brightness. He could true the device for daylight and see what they looked like in full sun, but it would ruin his night vision. Skybridges linked about half of the structures. He could see no movement.
Fenaday studied the near ground. A splatter of desert shrubs and short spiny trees covered the area. Draws and arroyos sculpted the broad slope of the hillside below them. Further toward the complex lay a large flattened area of filled and graded dirt. He recognized it as a killing zone similar to the one he had used with deadly effect against the Shellycoats of Enshar.
“Best advice, gentlemen,” he demanded. “Empty or ambush?”
Mmok looked over at him. “Can’t tell. Fifty-fifty.”
Rask met his eyes. “A smart man would not make an ambush look like an ambush. Pard is a smart man by all accounts.”
“You call it.” Mmok shrugged as if the subject held no interest for him.
“Follow me,” Fenaday said, his mouth suddenly dry. To his surprise, Mmok extended an arm to bar him.
“This ain’t a bayonet charge,” Mmok growled. “We got robots for the point and you have veteran ground fighters. I’ll lead with the crab robots, then the live troops, then you. I’ll hold the HCRs for reserve.”
Rask grinned. “That’s right, sir. Follow us in with your people. Our guys will hit the wall nearest the flak tower there and cut the fence. Then we spread out with half the robots to either side and take the main buildings. You take your trouble team and search for Pard.”
Fenaday hesitated then nodded, secretly glad to leave the attack to them. Mmok subvocalized to the machines, and the crab robots sidled over the top of the hill, starting down. Rask signaled his live troops with hand gestures. Fenaday waved to Morgan, who brought up the trouble team Shasti normally led. They assembled around Fenaday. The rest of the Landing Force troops attached themselves to Rask. Corporal Schiller and Risky stood near Fenaday. The K-9 trainer made a series of gestures to the dog then slipped his leash off. Risky’s brain was genetically enhanced enough to understand both the gestures and the danger on the other side of the hill.
Rask went over the top. His ASAT Rangers followed, almost invisible in the pre-morning darkness. Fenaday’s turn came at Mmok’s signal. His boots crunched on the sand and rock as he stood. The breath of the trouble team fogged in the air. He waved his hand in a signal to spread out his people. They crept down the hillside, scurrying from cover to cover. Risky, with his natural advantages, got out in front quickly. The dog moved in small rushes from one safe spot to another. Fenaday envied the shepherd’s closeness to the ground.
At best they might reach the edge of the killing ground undetected. Mercifully Pard’s complex was not a true fortification, or the approaches would be mined. Still, Dominici’s information showed the defenses they faced as formidable.
Flashes and blasts lit the sky. Looks like we don’t get that close unmolested, thought Fenaday. Crab robots became visible as they raced forward, firing. The compound’s defenses opened up. Machine guns fired tracers and depleted uranium slugs. From the towers, lasers stabbed down.
The crab robots moved at maximum speed, skittering in and out of cover, particle beams strobing, launching grenades and shaped rocket charges. Fire poured from the complex. The Confederate cyber-forces quickly proved too much for the Denshi perimeter defenses. Bullets bounced off armored crabs. Lasers bit but did not easily penetrate. Rockets began to fly out of the compound and the ground erupted.
“Move up,” Mmok said into their headphones. There was no further point to radio silence. “Rask, flank to the right. Enemy fire is moderate. I am concentrating four of the crabs on those bunkers to the left.”
“Moderate, he says,” Morgan spat, adding some choice Irish curses.
“Cobalt and Sapphire, hit that flak tower,” continued Mmok’s voice.
The HCR robots moved forward in a blur. A tower-mounted laser struck Sapphire a glancing blow. The slim robot’s clothes flamed. It rolled instantly, dousing the fire, and sprang back to its feet. Cobalt joined Sapphire. They turned their heavy tri-autos on the chain guns and fired as they bounded over the security fence. Tower lasers could not cope with the speeding HCRs and targeted the slower crabs instead. One hit Crab 14. The robot staggered, badly damaged. Sensing its imminent electronic death, the crab used its remaining energy to catapult itself to the fence line.
“Fire in the hole,” Mmok yelled on the net. Everyone hit the ground. The crab exploded in an ear-shattering roar, taking down ten yards of fence and a tower.
“This is Rask. Medic to the bottom of the hill. Two men down.”
“Keep going,” Fenaday called out, rising from the ground. “Don’t return fire. Let the robots do it. Keep moving forward. Run, damn it, run.”
They hit the floor of the valley, passing two of Rask’s men with the medic. One was clearly dead, the fi
rst installment on the butcher’s bill.
Tracer rounds bounced off the ground in front of him, looking deceptively lazy as they tumbled. Knowing that for every tracer they could see, seven non-tracers followed, Fenaday’s team hit the dirt as machine gun fire swept over them. Fenaday landed so hard he skidded, ending up with dirt in his mouth. Morgan was a fatal split-second slower. A tracer bounced up and hit the human, cutting through his body armor. He spun, smoking from the force of the heavy machine gun bullet. More hit. Morgan’s body dropped in their midst. Li screamed and rose to return fire.
“No,” Fenaday shouted. “Leave it to the robots. Up and through the fence.”
Rask’s ASATs reached the wire and attacked the buildings. Denshi troops poured out in response, only to be cut to pieces. The fight was not one-sided. Two of the crab robots shattered under sustained rocket attacks before the Denshi rocket teams were wiped out. Fenaday watched with a grim joy as Pard’s ground troops broke in retreat.
An armored car roared around the corner, its turret tracking toward the spacers. Suddenly the HCR Indigo appeared on its turret, tearing open the top hatch and flinging in a satchel charge. Indigo leapt diagonally to the nearest rooftop as the armored car erupted in flame.
Fenaday’s people made it to the downed wire. As they zigzagged into the cover of the nearest building, its doors flew open. Two of Pard’s troopers burst out. Everyone slid to a halt, facing each other in surprise across a distance of three meters. Guards and spacers blurred into a fast draw.
The genetically enhanced guards won. A bullet slammed into Fenaday’s breastplate, throwing him flat on his back. Hanshi Tok screamed as a laser cut into his right arm.
Risky did not freeze when the humans did. He smelled the enemy just before they hit the doors. The Shepherd piled into the nearest guard, teeth seizing a weapon strap. The one hundred-pound K-9 jerked the weapon clear of the guard’s hand. Lokashti Tok shot one Denshi. Schiller hit the one fighting Risky.
Lokashti turned to tend his brother, who lay on the ground moaning in pain, clutching an arm. Li helped Fenaday to his feet. The bullet hadn’t gone through; still his chest felt as if a horse had kicked him.
“Good thing it wasn’t a head shot,” Schiller told him as the spacer struggled for breath.
“Move everyone into the building,” Fenaday ordered through clenched teeth. “Hanshi, stay with your brother till the medic gets here. The rest of you, with me.” He looked out over the compound. Firefights raged everywhere. Indigo blurred into sight, heading for a bunker across the square. He couldn’t tell if they were winning or losing. Mmok’s problem, he thought. I’m here for Shasti and Pard.
“Down three men already,” he muttered. “Schiller, you stick with me. Li, as soon as the medic gets here you and Lokashti pair up and start searching. Find Shasti if she’s here. Get Pard if you can, but find Shasti.”
“Yes, sir,” Li said, eyes darting everywhere.
*****
Shasti had reached the area of the complex unobserved, just before midnight. She’d driven cross-country from the main highway. When the ground grew too rough for the bike, she ditched it in a draw and proceeded on foot. The climb out of the gorge dividing the complex from the outskirts of Marathon took her over an hour. She dared not try the bridge itself as Denshi guards manned it. Once out of the gorge, she traveled across the broken country faster than an ordinary human could, despite the weight of the heavy triple-auto weapon she’d stolen from a Bremardi armory. She did not need night vision equipment. Her engineered eyes pierced the dark like a tiger’s.
Her black insulated jumpsuit kept the cold desert night at bay. With her melanin camouflage, she and the equipment blended into the night perfectly. Neither the feeble crescent moon, nor the ice ring, raised a highlight on her.
Topping one hill, she spotted a convoy of vehicles leaving the compound, heading toward the bridge and threw herself flat. Armored cars led troop transports and ordinary vehicles; over these hovered choppers and aircars. She crawled forward, careful not to be skylined. The insulated suit granted her another advantage: its chemical composition and structure diffused heat. Infrared scanners could not detect her except at close range.
What’s this? she wondered. She used her binoculars to check the markings: Oldark, McPherson and other high Denshi. None of the vehicles bore the insignia of Pard’s personal guard. Clearly Pard had decided to shift some of his forces out of the compound, doubtless to complicate his enemies’ plans to use the bomb blast against him. He forced them to deal with more targets by moving Denshi forces toward his various political strongholds. A veiled threat against the Army and the Opposition parties.
It complicated Shasti’s mission. Pard might be in the convoy moving out toward the capital, or he might be in the compound. A few seconds made the answer clear. She had no chance of doing anything against the alert and speeding convoy. While the compound might also be on alert, there she possessed an advantage. She knew the compound well. Much could have changed, but her odds of slipping into the base seemed immeasurably better, slim as they were. She gave the convoy a wide berth, moving carefully from cover to cover.
In the hours before dawn she worked her way to the lowland below and east of the Denshi compound. Electronic monitoring and patrols normally swept the area. Tonight she could detect no sign of foot patrols. Had they had been pulled further in? Perhaps the compound was undermanned with Oldark’s evacuation?
This area which supplied the base’s water and sewage had always been the camp’s Achilles heel in one sense. An armored or large-scale assault would find the swamp a killing ground as they bogged down in it. For single infiltrators, it provided a good way to approach the area. Shasti reached the end of the bog, traveling paths known to her from when the compound had been a much smaller training facility. She went carefully, searching for the sensors. Her super human eyes and nose saved her from tripping them. She could practically smell metal and plastic. Perhaps the shock of Fenaday’s death had unlocked something in her. Every sense seemed stronger, more acute than ever. She could see each leaf clearly; every sound reached her ears. Always a good stalker, now she moved so silently that a skoosh did not notice her till she put a foot near the small, rabbit-like creature. It bolted in terror.
At the edge of the swamp, she found the flattened, cleared zone, which surrounded the camp. The patrols she feared earlier could be seen in force on the other side of a chain-link fence. Her practiced eye found some cover in the field, but no way to reach any of it. Automatic sensors, only partially reliable in the swamp, would detect her the instant she moved from the bog’s edge, despite her infrared and visual camouflage.
Shasti settled in to wait, hoping desperately for a break. The cold of the desert night finally began to penetrate her suit. Each minute closer to sunrise moved her closer to failure. After an hour of watching regular, perfect guard work, despair began to creep into her soul. Pard was no fool. She’d only penetrated the outermost shell of the security, accomplishing nothing.
She started as a flash lit the predawn sky. Heavy firing broke out instantly. Shasti flattened, thinking she’d been discovered. She quickly realized the sound originated on the other side of the compound, toward the hills. It grew immediately in intensity. She could see the actinic lights of lasers and the flash of more explosions. Clearly it was no mere raid by gunmen. Army, she thought. Who else possessed such firepower? From the sound, the attacking force exceeded company level, backed by light armor.
She could hear the troops talking on the other side of the fence. A distant voice called for the soldiers to keep an eye on their own front. Another flash and the top of the nearest flak tower exploded, hit by a wild round from the battle on the other side of the compound. Suddenly officers appeared, yelling orders. Soldiers began piling out of the bunkers and buildings, heading for the other side of the base. An armored personnel carrier, already firing shells at a high angle, joined the troops. It could only mean the attacking force had breached t
he compound and the defenders were in desperate straits.
Shasti surged out of the bog, running serpentine toward the compound. A robot gun stuttered and she leaped sidewise. The machine, programmed to deal with lesser creations than Shasti, couldn’t track her leap. Rounds spattered the ground beside her. Her tri-auto took out the perimeter gun mounted on a pylon. She snaked forward, hoping no other weapon covered the zone. None did. A pair of insulated clippers got her through the wire.
I made it, she thought triumphantly. I’m back inside. She raced toward the steps of the nearest building. From the top landing, she could see the other end of the complex. Intense fire filled the streets. Glass shattered off buildings and lights exploded, plunging sections into darkness. In the far distance, she caught glimpses of running soldiers. They moved forward professionally, in bounding formations, covering each other. Even with her vision, she could not make out uniforms, but there was no mistaking quality infantry. Shasti turned and dashed into the doorway. This building connected with Pard’s apartments by a bridgeway higher up. Shasti let her skin revert to its normal color, relieved of the slight energy drain the melanin camouflage cost her. In the bright interiors of the compound it would just make her more conspicuous.
Hysterical office workers crowded the corridor she entered. Night shift, she realized; the complex ran all twenty-five hours of the Olympian day. They fled past Shasti, taking the Engineered woman for one of their own, as they headed for the basement and shelters. She saw guards in the red and black Denshi livery at the far end. They disappeared in another direction. Chaos ruled. Shasti shoved through people, heading upstairs. More clerks, technicians and janitorial workers fled down the stairs. They also took her for one of their own and barely looked at her.
At the top of the stairway, an alert guard locked eyes with Rainhell, somehow recognizing an enemy in her. His weapon snapped up half a second too late. Her tri-auto crumpled him with a short burst. His own wild shot struck a middle-aged computer technician at the foot of the stairs. The woman crumpled with a scream. A young man, his hands empty of weapons, turned to aid her, saw Shasti and froze. She stared down at him malevolently. He continued to edge toward the fallen woman. Shasti remembered the faces of the people she killed out of hand when she fled this place years ago. Armed, unarmed, had not mattered then. She’d cut down young and old alike. They had all been Pard to her. Not now. She’d learned things in the years since.
Fearful Symmetry (The Robert Fenaday and Shasti Rainhell Chronicle Book 2) Page 22
