by A. G. Taylor
Bright snapped, “Because I owe them! They locked me in a cell in the bowels of that vessel and I will see it torn apart!”
“Fine!” the smaller man said hurriedly, in response to the major’s barely controlled anger. “Another live trial of the technology can’t hurt.”
“Don’t question me again, Good.”
In the darkness, Sarah’s heart missed a beat. The Ulysses was going to be targeted. They were sailing into some kind of trap. She had to warn Rachel...
Bright walked around a metallic sphere under which a squid-like creature cowered – its shape constantly changing, making it impossible to tell if it was an animal or a machine. The major said something Sarah couldn’t hear and the American signalled for the remaining technicians to clear out. One by one, they left their posts and walked through the darkness towards the exit, flanked by the soldiers on the ground. Sarah watched two of the soldiers advance towards the unconscious girl and pick her up roughly by the arms.
“She needs medical help!” Hack exclaimed. “She’s barely breathing!”
Bright snapped his fingers at two of his men. “Take her to Dr. Cameron.”
The girl was lifted up and carried away towards an exit at the back. The boy made to follow, but Bright laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Not you. Return him to his cell.”
Ignoring the kid’s protests, two soldiers took his arms and led him in the other direction.
Now there was only Bright and the American left in the lighted area. They launched into an animated discussion about how to handle the two prisoners. Sarah made out some kind of disfigurement on Bright’s skin that she had not seen before. There was a reptilian quality to the black, scaly mark spreading up his face and she wondered what the cause was. Had Bright been experimenting with more serum, like the one he had created to give himself superpowers in the past? And if so, what new powers did he have?
She decided to send her brother a message. Robert, they’re taking Hack to the cells.
There was no reply. Sarah had no sense of the others’ presence and she was certain the message had not been received. Was something blocking her? Bright? He had shown no awareness of her presence in the hangar. She moved even closer so she could better hear what they were saying…
Commander Craig crouched at the top of the stairs and surveyed the catwalks criss-crossing the ceiling of the hangar. In the green-tinged viewfinder of the night-vision goggles everything had a flattened quality, but he was well used to working with the equipment. When it came time, he would have no problems moving in the seemingly 2D environment. Checking the machine gun was securely fastened at his side (he didn’t want it knocking against one of the railings), he reached to his belt and extracted the throat-jabber once more. If he wanted to knock the snipers out, he’d have to get up close. Using a dart-gun would cause too much noise if they fell without him being there to catch them.
There were four snipers positioned on the catwalks. Since the girl and boy had been taken out of the hangar, they had visibly relaxed – switching from alert stances, eyes locked down the scopes of their rifles, to more comfortable positions, weapons cradled in their arms. Major Bright’s voice echoed up from below and it was possible to make out every word. The usual madness that made Craig’s stomach turn: world domination, destruction, superpowers, blah blah, blah blah blah. One piece of information that caught his attention was the talk about destroying the Ulysses with some piece of technology they had down there.
Craig smiled grimly in the darkness. That isn’t going to happen, he thought. Time to end this…
The commander moved swiftly and silently as the nearest sniper turned his back. Craig’s left hand clamped over the merc’s mouth and twisted his head to expose the carotid artery. His right hand came up and the jabber hit the sniper’s neck. For a second the man struggled violently, but Craig held firm, not allowing him to thrash around and alert the others. In three seconds it was all over. He lowered the unconscious merc to the floor of the catwalk, checked the jabber was ready to deliver another dose of tranquillizer and moved on to the next.
The second sniper went in much the same manner and just as silently. With the deed done, Craig looked round at the other two snipers, who showed no realization that their teammates had been taken out. The voices of Bright and the American continued to echo up from below. Craig moved on in the darkness.
The third sniper would be more of a challenge. He was leaning against the railing, facing Craig. The commander considered his position. He could go all the way down to the ground, up the stairs on the other side of the hangar, then approach him from the rear. No, too time consuming. Or he could just wait for the man to turn round. By which time Bright might have left the hangar.
It was now or never.
He went in, bent almost double. In the darkness, the sniper didn’t even sense him until he was right in his face. The merc’s eyes widened and he began to bring the rifle round. Commander Craig hit him in the throat with the jabber and clamped a hand over his mouth to stop his scream, but the angle was all wrong. The base of the sniper’s spine hit the railing and he toppled back. Craig made a grab for him, but found only the barrel of the rifle. The man pitched over the side of the catwalk with the jabber needle still in his neck, but his rifle in Craig’s hands. A second later, the merc’s body hit one of the lamps below with a clatter and then a dull thud. The fallen lamp landed on the floor, casting its beam on the catwalk above – illuminating the commander’s position.
Craig moved purely on instinct, pressing the stock of the sniper’s rifle into his shoulder, one finger on the trigger. He spun and sighted through the scope in the direction he knew the last sniper was standing. The light from below was overloading the peripheral vision of the goggles, half-blinding him, but he saw the dark shape of the fourth man on the catwalk taking aim at him…
The commander pulled the trigger first. The sniper’s body jerked round and disappeared into the darkness.
The floor of the catwalk exploded as a volley of bullets ripped through the metal. Someone was firing at him from below. Craig threw himself forward, running headlong for the darkened area. He didn’t need to look over the side of the catwalk to know that it was Bright letting loose with a machine gun. He made the darkness as another round of bullets licked the walkway. He rolled into a crouch and waited. The shooting stopped as the major reloaded…
Craig ripped the goggles off his head, leaned over the railing and aimed the sniper rifle where he predicted the major was standing. His instinct was right and he sighted on Bright in the process of slotting a new clip into a Kalashnikov rifle. One chance. Craig sighted the middle of Bright’s forehead and pulled the trigger. A red dot appeared in the centre of the major’s skull and his head snapped back. Craig put two more rounds in his chest as he went down.
“Gotcha,” the commander said as he lowered the rifle.
Bright was laid out on the floor below. The American guy had ducked into the darkness, presumably the moment the shooting started. Craig dropped the rifle at his feet and started moving back along the catwalk. It was time to clear out before the alarm was raised. He just hoped that Sarah had already made a break for it…
“COMMANDER!”
Craig stopped in his tracks at the sound of Major Bright’s voice echoing up from below. Not possible, I put a bullet in his head. He moved to the side of the catwalk, unslinging the machine gun from his shoulder as he did so. But it was already too late…
The catwalk floor concertinaed as if some massive force had pushed it at both ends. The metal screeched as it was distorted and torn. Craig flew forwards. He grabbed the rail and managed to hang on for a second. He caught a glimpse of Major Bright on his feet again. Impossible! Bright was stretching his arm up towards the catwalk. He closed his fist and the entire walkway collapsed. Then Craig was falling through the air, the machine gun lost, completely unable to save himself. All he could do was roll into a landing position to minimize the damage.
>
He hit the concrete floor of the hangar hard. Pain exploded along his right leg. It felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to his spine. Craig rolled onto his stomach and looked down the side of his body to see a white flash of broken bone – it had ripped through the skin of his upper leg and the material of his combat fatigues. Nausea cut through the pain, but he fought to stay conscious as he sensed someone approaching. Bright. With the last of his strength, the commander grabbed the pistol from his belt and rolled onto his back…
He emptied the clip into the major, who barely flinched as the bullets hit his chest and shoulders. It was as if the rounds simply glanced off him. With a groan, Craig lowered the empty weapon and let it fall from his grasp. Through his swimming vision he saw Bright standing over him.
“Nice to see you again, commander.”
The major’s massive hands closed around his throat, lifting him to his feet. Craig screamed with pain from his broken leg. Then he passed out…
19
The mercs marched Hack back across the compound towards his cell. He’d protested about wanting to be with May, but the bigger of the two silenced him with a slap across his face. Now Hack walked meekly between the two men, head down as if he was beaten. Looking around, he saw the cells up ahead and thought about the stimulant injector in his pocket. He could wait until they were inside the building before striking, but he didn’t want to give either of the mercs the chance to lock him inside. The spotlight swept the ground ahead of them and then moved on. There didn’t seem to be any other soldiers in the immediate vicinity.
It was now or never.
Hack reached into his pocket and removed the injector. Without hesitation, he jammed the tube into the hip of the nearest solider and pressed the release trigger twice. There was a double hiss and the merc staggered forwards, making a gagging sound as the drug entered his bloodstream. That’s for May, Hack thought. He spun round and jabbed the injector at the other soldier, giving him a dose of stimulant as well. The merc’s eyes bulged out of their sockets and he stumbled, disorientated.
It was all Hack needed. He made a break for it, running fast for the nearest cover – a stack of metal crates. The boots of the first merc thundered after him, however, and he sensed the man right at his back. Hack turned and raised the injector to give him another shot, but the merc hit him full force, throwing him back against the crates. Winded, Hack slid down to the ground. The injector fell from his hand and was lost in the dark. The merc swayed before him, but shook his head, fighting to focus as the stimulant coursed through his body. He pulled his pistol and aimed it at the boy’s head.
“Please,” Hack said.
The merc looked at him through bleary eyes. His finger tightened on the trigger…
Then he smashed into the crates beside Hack, as if he’d been pushed by some massive, invisible force. The merc fell back, laid out by the impact. A second later, the other merc smashed into the crates and fell beside his comrade. Still coming to terms with the fact he hadn’t been shot, Hack pulled himself to his feet. A blonde-haired girl walked out of the shadows. He tensed, but she smiled to show everything was okay.
“Thought you could use some help,” she said.
Hack looked down at the unconscious mercs. “Uh, thanks. How did you…?”
Robert materialized beside him, holding the hand of a Chinese boy.
“How do you think?” the girl said.
Hack grinned at Robert. “Am I glad to see you!”
“Told you I’d come and get you,” said Robert. He quickly introduced his companions as Louise and Wei and turned his attention to the unconscious soldiers. “Let’s hide these two before they’re noticed.”
Hack and Robert grabbed the nearest one by the arms and dragged him between the crates with some effort. Louise picked up the other like he weighed no more than a feather and tossed him down next to the first. It took Hack a second to understand that she hadn’t really lifted him physically, but used telekinetic power to move the man’s bulk. It was an impressive display.
“Right,” Robert said as the searchlight swept the surrounding area, “we need to meet up with Sarah and get out of here.”
Hack touched the collar locked around his neck. “It’s not that simple.”
He quickly outlined the situation with Marlon Good and the explosive devices placed around his and May’s necks. Robert examined the collar.
“I wonder if I can teleport you right out of it,” he suggested. “Transport you, but the leave the collar behind?”
Hack shook his head. “May has an identical collar. The moment this one is removed from my body, the detonation sequence is triggered in hers. The same if we get more than a kilometre apart. We have to rescue her too.”
The sound of gunfire from the other side of the camp made them all turn. Hack moved to the edge of the crates and saw soldiers running in the direction of the hangar.
“Something’s going on,” he said.
“Sarah and Commander Craig getting in trouble,” Louise said and Robert nodded.
“Let’s get over there.”
“Who is he?” Marlon Good asked, walking from his hiding place in the darkness. Bright had dumped their unconscious attacker in the metal chair May had occupied just a short while before. Good caught sight of the broken femur jutting from the man’s right leg and had to look away. He’d always hated the sight of real blood.
“A HIDRA operative,” Bright said. He reached inside his shirt and pulled out a misshapen lump of metal, which he tossed away. Good watched it skitter across the floor. It was one of the bullets that had been fired at him.
“Are you wearing a Kevlar vest?”
Bright looked round. There was a little red mark in the middle of his forehead where the sniper round had entered, but that was the only sign he’d been fired upon.
“Nobody can take that kind of punishment and survive, Major,” Good said. “Tell me what’s really going on here. Just how close are you to the Entity? Something to do with that black mark, is it?”
Bright took a couple of steps towards Good, who tried to hold his ground, but quickly shrunk back.
“You know exactly as much as you need to know,” Bright said dangerously. For a moment Good thought the man was going to hit him, but then his eyes went blank – like they had many times before in conversation. Almost as if he was going into some kind of trance state. Or communicating with someone or something unseen.
Bright’s eyes snapped back into focus. “Go and find Kotler,” he said, jerking a thumb at the mercs standing in the entrance to the hangar, alerted by the earlier gunplay. “Tell him to put the base on heightened alert. There might be more assassins.”
Good hesitated. “What about him?”
Bright looked at the commander. “Oh, we’re old friends. Going to have a little catch up. You can stay and watch if you like.”
Good took another glance at the protruding bone and decided there were some things he didn’t need to see. He hurried towards the hangar doors.
Alone in the lighted square, Bright went to the medical cabinet beside the chair and removed a bottle of smelling salts. Unscrewing the top, he waved the bottle under Commander Craig’s nose. With a splutter and a gasp of pain, Craig stirred. His eyes flickered open and he tried to focus on his surroundings, but he was clearly disorientated. Bright gave him another waft of the smelling salts.
“Wakey wakey.”
The commander looked at him through bloodshot eyes. “Bright… Why aren’t you dead?”
“I’d have thought you’d have realized by now that I’m invincible.”
“But you don’t have any serum… How…?”
Bright tapped the side of his nose. “That’s my little secret. Tell me: is Colonel Andersen sending her men on suicide missions now?”
Craig looked down at his broken leg and winced. “It was my idea. I volunteered.”
“And how many more volunteered?”
“I’m alone.”
Bright laughed. “Please don’t insult my intelligence.” He reached down and tapped the jutting bone with the end of his finger. Craig screamed in pain and thrashed in the chair. “How many more are there?”
“I’m…alone…”
Bright tapped the bone again, more firmly this time. Craig screamed again.
“You’re going to die, Commander. The only thing you can decide is how quickly or slowly. Tell me who’s with you and how many there are.”
Craig gritted his teeth, clutched the side of the chair and lashed out with his good leg. Bright caught his ankle with ease and twisted. Helpless, the commander cried out again as Bright increased the pressure.
“Would you like me to break this one too?”
“That’s enough!”
Bright’s head jerked round as the familiar voice rang across the hangar. He released the commander’s leg and turned as the girl walked out of the darkness on the other side of the square.
“Sarah Williams,” he said.
There, I told you she would come back to us, the Entity said in his head.
“You knew she was here,” Bright replied. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Now, I can be complete.
“And I can have you out of my head.”
Sarah Williams frowned, but then understanding spread across her face. “You’re in communication with the Entity. How is that possible?”
Bright placed a hand against his chest. “When you left me for dead in Russia—”
“You were dead.”
“Not quite, obviously. I woke up in the cold with a shard of the Tunguska meteorite lodged in my chest. The object that Makarov had used to communicate with the alien force is now literally a part of me.”
“It saved you. Why?”
Bright grinned. “Why do you think? It needs me to carry on Makarov’s good work here on earth. In return I get my life and lots of nice new superpowers without the need for serum injections. It’s worked out fairly well up to now, but as you can see, there have been some side effects.” He indicated the black mark spreading over his skin. “And that’s where you come in.”
