Shedding the Demon

by Bill Denise

  “That’s better. I don’t see any sign of the tracker anymore, and I’m reading full connection and sound encryption. How are things on your end?”

  Damon nearly laughed because a new icon had appeared in the corner of his HUD; a dancing smiley-face with Ken’s name on it. “Everything looks great,” he told Gregor.

  “Sure does!” Ken’s voice sounded in his ear, and Damon felt a moment of fear when he was sure Gregor must have heard it too.

  “Good, that should fix it then,” Gregor replied. Damon laughed for real this time. “What?” Gregor sounded irritated, “So you were right, no need to abort.”

  “Next time, don’t question me!” He said as he started jogging across the roof toward the target. “Let’s go,” is all he said before initiating radio silence. Gregor’s icon blinked red, while Ken’s stayed in place. “Are you still there?” He asked tentatively.

  “I’m here, but your other friend is blocked out of communications.” Ken replied, much to Damon’s relief.

  “Great. What have you learned about the target? Anything outside of my official briefing?” Damon asked while moving from rooftop to rooftop in his approach. He stopped before entering the target’s stronghold perimeter. The next building looked nearly the same as all the others, but his briefing intelligence told him that he would probably be detected once he moved in any closer. He wanted to hear what Ken had found out before proceeding.

  To his irritation, Ken responded with a question. “So what did they tell you about this target?”

  Damon read from his mission briefing, “Walfrid Metzenberg, sentenced to death for sedition, weapons hording, and unlicensed research and production.” Damon reviewed the other details in his HUD. “The rest is maps, tactical assessments, etc. Right now I’m just outside the perimeter of a building cleverly named ‘Plant Number Three.’ I plan to take it out with some special high-yield explosives I’ve got in my pack. Do you have anything to add?”

  “Absolutely! The Council has decided to kill people for unlicensed research and production? Why are they so afraid of research? How do they expect us to improve if we can’t research?”

  “I don’t think they’re afraid, they just want to keep research under their control, for safety. They want to protect the people,” Damon replied as he surveyed the main entrance to Plant Number Three using passive sensors.

  “Protect the people?” Ken became animated, “Protect the people from what?”

  “Well, from guys like Walfrid Metzenberg, I guess. What if he developed something dangerous? Who would keep him from hurting people with it?” Damon didn’t like the look of the front entrance, it was too far away.

  “That’s what SecForce is for; that’s what you are for!” Ken sounded angry.

  “It makes more sense to me to send me in before he does something bad, rather than after.”

  Damon took a running start to launch himself at the side of the next building. “This way not as many people get hurt,” he said while flying through the air. The sound of smashing masonry drowned out the signal for a few seconds.

  “Subtle as ever,” Ken commented, some of his anger forgotten. “Seriously, though, the Council can’t expect to keep such a tight lid on research, it stifles our progress as a civilization. Our rate of advancement has slowed to a crawl over the history of the Consensus.”

  Damon’s human cannonball act smashed a hole through the wall of the factory and he found himself standing on the floor of a manufacturing plant. Alarms sounded in the distance, and his sensors tracked a dozen guards heading his way. He flicked his wrists to reveal the barrels of the small-caliber slug guns. The motion wasn’t necessary, but he liked the feel of it.

  “I’ve gotta go to work,” he said to Ken. “I trust that the Council knows a lot more about this guy than we do. If they say he’s dangerous, I believe them.”

  Ken grumbled, “Well, I don’t like it. This guy looks too much like me for my comfort. I’ve performed unauthorized research too—will you be sent to kill me someday?”

  Damon froze, his heart suddenly beating hard against his chest.

  Once again the memory of Shrigauri Krych popped into his head.

  You’re a pawn . . . you’re being used . . . you’re killing your own people . . .

  The first pair of guards rounded the corner of a nearby machine and called out to him, snapping his attention back to the present. They held their autorifles pointed down, threatening but not engaging him. Big mistake, Damon thought. He triggered the slug guns on his left wrist and swung his arm toward them. The rapid-firing weapons nearly sliced the men in half before either could bring his weapon to bear.

  “Kyndra Dickson! A single shot would have sufficed!” Ken said loudly in his ear, the shock palpable in his speech.

  Without replying, Damon picked up one man’s radio. Holding it in his hand, his internal systems analyzed the frequency and encryption used by the unit. In a matter of seconds, he had access to the communications channels and began monitoring their activity. Dropping the radio, he removed four high explosive charges from his pack, which was actually a storage compartment built into his upper back. Working quickly, he followed the directions in his HUD for optimal placement of the charges and set them for ‘dead-man’ detonation so they would explode when they lost a signal from him.

  The equipment in this room was large, and he found himself climbing over and around the running machinery. He knew that his D-SAP armor was nearly indestructible, but he did not want to test it against the massive and fast-moving parts whirling all around him. The guards were in general disarray after finding the bodies of their comrades, which told Damon that they were not seasoned veterans. Too easy, he thought, although the little voice in the back of his head warned him against getting too cocky.

  After placing the final charge and dropping to the floor, Damon prepared for the attack that was finally being coordinated by someone with experience. He watched the red target dots moving to surround him and he prepared to take them out quickly. Since he was not worried about collateral damage, he left his slug guns active on both wrists and moved casually toward the nearest group of guards. When he came within sight, they immediately opened fire with their autorifles, which were powerful enough for Damon to feel each impact. Regardless, he stopped directly in their line of fire making a show of their ineffectual gunfire and trying to intimidate them. Slowly and deliberately he raised his left hand and fired a couple hundred rounds with the slug gun, disrupting the group in front of him and breaking up their attack. Off to his right a new group of guards opened fire, and he turned casually and brushed them off with a shower of high-velocity slugs from his right wrist.

  With smoke trailing dramatically from the barrels at both wrists, he jogged toward the next target. Sporadic gunfire was the only resistance, which he met with his own kinetic weapon fire.

  “Using up ammo rather quickly,” Ken commented.

  Stealing a glance at his ammo levels he realized he would have to dial back on the rate of fire, or switch over to energy weapons, which would use up more of his power reserves. Somewhat reluctantly, he cut the rate of fire in half, and estimated that would give him plenty of ammunition for the job, even if it took longer to eliminate each target. And it’s not nearly as much fun, Damon lamented. He was still hesitant to use power unless absolutely necessary. Which also means I shouldn’t stand directly in the line of fire, either, since every hit uses a little power to maintain the armor integrity. Sighing out loud, Damon decided it was time to get more serious and stop playing around.

  “You win,” he said to Ken as he moved toward the next building.

  “Wait,” Ken said quickly and Damon stopped.

  “What is it,” he asked and initiated a short-range sensor sweep.

  “Nothing threatening,” Ken added in response to Damon’s tone. “Can you run a deep scan over the building before you blow it?”

  “Sure, but then everyone will know I’m here.”

  “I
’m pretty sure your oh-so-stealthy approach thus far hasn’t kept you very secret,” Ken replied sarcastically.

  “True enough—you win again,” Damon snorted in a wry half-laugh and initiated the scan through the building behind him. He sent the data to Ken for analysis as he crossed the small open square bordered by four nondescript buildings.

  Before he could reach the second target building, he was knocked off his feet and slammed face-first into a wall. That kinda hurt, he thought, rubbing his forehead as he scanned the area for threats.

  His HUD informed him that it was a small shell impact and explosion, most likely fired from the building across the square. Damon inspected the likely point of origin but saw nothing using his passive scanners. Obviously, they already know where I am, he thought as he mentally flicked on his active sensor suite. Immediately, his HUD displayed two reticles marking the men running away across the rooftop out of his direct line of sight.

  Damon deployed launch tubes which emerged from his upper back near the shoulder blades and fired off two small anti-personnel missiles. He let his active sensors track the men and guide the missiles unerringly to them. Even though the missiles were autonomous, he still watched them in his HUD until they exploded into small clouds of high-velocity flak that killed the men instantly.

  He quickly swept the area with his active sensors, noted the converging guards, and then shut them down. His HUD would continue to mark the guards’ last known location and attempt to predict their movements when it could not track them in passive mode.

  Turning back to the task at hand, he punched the wall previously damaged by his face, and entered the next factory. He decided to sheathe the slug guns in favor of the more subtle Extruded Combat Blades in acknowledgement that Ken had a good point. He extended blades into both hands, making them as thick and long as possible.

  No one contested his movements in the second factory and he soon had the charges placed and prepared to move to the last building. Before he created a new exit in the nearest wall, a target popped up on his HUD, marked only with an ominous “unidentified” tag.

  Damon’s heart accelerated and pounded on his ribs.

  “Ken, are you seeing this contact?”

  “Yeah, I see it,” Ken replied, obviously distracted, “but I can’t tell what it is either.” Damon heard him tapping on his screen in the background as the indicator methodically approached.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Damon said as he started jogging toward the target. “He’s coming up fast.” Damon queried his HUD for target speed, and it indicated that the object was moving just over 15 meters per second. Some sort of vehicle. Since the target was approaching directly with no attempt to stay hidden, a nervous knot formed in Damon’s stomach. He didn’t like surprises. As he angled toward the main hallway in order to get a visual on the target, he checked his power level.

  “. . . 75% . . .”

  Good enough, he thought confidently. When he entered the main hallway and faced his adversary, he skidded to a halt. He had expected a vehicle, but not the type now coming at him. It was fairly small, maybe a meter high, a meter wide, and two meters long. It rode on six sets of wheels, each apparently independent from the others. On top was small oblong turret sporting two sets of multi-barrel guns of unknown capability but appeared to be kinetic weapons. Damon hesitated while he inspected the vehicle, but the weapon platform wasted no time and immediately began firing.

  The multi-barrels spewed high-velocity, high-density rounds at a rate Damon could not estimate, nor imitate. The projectiles hit him full in the chest, knocking him completely off his feet and sending him skidding across the floor. The impact of the multiple rounds hurt even through the D-SAP. Damon tried to right himself or rise to a crouch, but the bullets kept coming and never seemed to miss, even as he was tossed around by their impacts.

  Changing tactics, he rolled in the direction the bullets were pushing him until he came to a side passageway. He scrabbled across the floor on his hands and feet, and managed to propel himself into the opening. The bullet stream attempted to follow, but cut off once he was out of the line of fire. His HUD informed him that the vehicle had picked up speed and would be on top of him in three seconds. Damon decided he had no other choice and powered up the Trip-PC. The charge indicator in the HUD still showed only partial power when the vehicle came to the corner, but Damon overrode the controls and fired immediately. The power of the cannon was not optimal, but the close range made it quite effective, and smashed in the front of the vehicle destroying the turret and the guns as well. Immediately, the vehicle began moving away as fast as it had approached.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Damon said out loud as he sprinted in pursuit. Jumping to cover the last few feet, he extruded his combat blades and landed on top of the crippled vehicle, slicing through the axles on either side with two long sweeps. The vehicle skidded to a halt, vibrating unevenly as the stubs of the axles continued to spin in an attempt to escape.

  He stood on top of the vehicle as a hunter over his prey, breathing heavily, and feeling slightly shaken. “Ken, what is this thing?” he asked.

  “It’s an autonomous mechanized weapons platform, but it’s a custom design so I can’t pull up any specifics.

  “Didn’t you find any record of these in your research?” Damon asked sarcastically.

  Ken grunted.

  The MWP stopped trying to move, and Damon’s HUD flashed confusing warnings about live weapons.

  “What the—” Damon never finished his sentence as the remaining ordinance in the MWP exploded and sent him flying into the ceiling of the room where he bounced off a few support beams and girders before falling to the floor in an ungraceful heap.

  “Kyndra’s soaking tears!” Damon cursed as he picked himself up off the floor. He had aches and pains all over like nothing he’d felt since that run-in with the rail guns on his first mission.

  “. . . 33% . . .”

  He cursed again. “Ken, what’s your assessment? My power’s real low and I haven’t hit the third building; not to mention the man himself.”

  “Hmm,” Ken said, “I’d say you need a better power plant.”

  “Oh, well thank you very much!”

  Ken laughed.

  “Cut the crap, Ken, I’m serious! It’s my butt on the line here, do I abort?”

  “I’m no tactical guru, why are you asking me? Call your buddy Gregor and see what he thinks.”

  “Maybe I will,” Damon growled, then added under his breath, “and tell him where to find my hacker as well!”

  “Oh come on,” Ken said. Then after a short pause, “Give me a minute, I’ve got an idea. Keep moving toward the next building, this time avoiding contact with unknown targets.”

  Damon moved cautiously, something he’d not done in a while. He realized, once again, that Ken was right. He should use his training from the Family and be stealthier. There are things out there that can hurt me, he thought, and I’m sure there’s worse stuff than what I’ve already seen.

  Since they’re already on high alert and dragging out the big guns, I might as well hit them with an active scan to get the big picture. He ran everything in his sensor suite and the HUD displayed a number of targets, but they were arrayed around a building two blocks away, at the edge of his effective range. I wonder where Mr. Metzenberg could be hiding, hmm? He took a moment to evaluate their arrangement, but he could not make a complete assessment based upon his limited sensor information.

  “Demon, stop there,” Ken instructed, “and punch through the wall on your left.” As Damon raised his fists and stepped toward the wall, Ken added, “Gently, if possible.”

  Damon stopped and hit the wall with only one fist, as lightly as he could while still breaching the masonry. Inside he found a room arrayed with electrical panels and transformers. On the other side of the room he saw a Debar reactor humming away. He marveled at how such a small, innocuous sphere could generate so much power. Viewed in the visible spectrum
it gave no indication that it was even running, but using a broad spectrum he could see various bands of electromagnetic power sweeping graceful arcs around its surface, suspending it in the air, and connecting it to the power conduits at the top and bottom of the safety enclosure. Using passive sensors, he could see the helical shapes of exotic wormhole energies twisting and writhing between the electromagnetic fields and the sphere.

  “Wow, I’ve never seen one of these up close before,” Damon said with a sense of awe filling his voice, “do you want me to destroy it?”

  “No!” Ken yelled a little louder than as necessary, startling Damon. “I want you to just stay put for a minute while I figure something out.”

  “Whatever you say,” Damon replied and dropped into a sitting position to watch his power levels rise ever so slowly. After a few long minutes, Ken returned.

  “Here’s what I want you to do: First, execute this command file I’m sending to you right now.”

  “Do what with what?”

  Ken sighed and continued, speaking slowly, “Do you see the file I just sent to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Run it, please. When you see a warning message, approve it for execution.”

  Damon dutifully ran the file, and when a warning popped up in his HUD he nearly dismissed it without looking at it, but the urgent nature of the warning made him pause. As he read the message fully, he started to have second thoughts. “What exactly are you trying to do?” His suspicion rose ice-cold along his spine. “The warning says you’re trying to make base-level changes to my system programming, blah-blah-blah. What are you doing to me?”

  Ken replied quietly, “I’m trying to help you.” Then his voice began to rise as he spoke faster, “That D-SAP they covered you with is really amazing. There are so many different ways to configure the electrical state it’s mind-boggling. You can change color, texture, reflectivity, and a hundred or so other parameters, I’m really just scratching the surface!”