Fire on the Frontline

by Trevor Wyatt

  She flashes me an irritated look. “You’d better hurry there. I don’t think he’s planning on waiting.”

  I don’t need to be told one more time. I swivel on my heels and hightail it down to the ground floor. Of course, Gresh is yelling for me to stop and think. I don’t listen to him. So far, all he’s done is bitch about my methods. Now, here I am trying to stop one of his people from doing something terrible at the Temple and he wants to bitch.

  “Stop, No-One!” I hear him call after me as I leap over the last few steps and land on the floor, walking in leaps and bounds.

  “Lock door!” I hear him call from behind me.

  “Locking door,” comes a reply.

  I slam into the door and bounce back. I turn to see Gresh making his way down the flight of stairs to the ground floor.

  “What’s your problem?” I say to him. “You heard what she said. Why are you trying to stop me?”

  He closes the distance between us and grabs my shoulders—a bold move because my gut is telling me to punch him so hard in the nose that his entire generational line would feel it through time and space.

  “I’m trying to stop you from doing what I think you want to do,” he replies, shaking my shoulder and causing my teeth to rattle.

  It takes sheer will not to overpower him and beat the crap out of him.

  “And what do you think I want to do?” I ask. “You heard the assassin. Something bad is about to happen at the Temple. I’m going there to stop it. You should be happy I’m not sending you, instead. Don’t forget, I have dirt on you…aiding and abetting a Terran spy…?”

  This is enough to get him to back down and back off a few steps. However, he recovers from his shock fast.

  He folds his arms.

  “Look, I don’t have time for a debate,” I say, impatient. “Open the fucking doors and let me out, unless…”

  He sneers at that. “The Temple is forbidden to non-Sonali. You can’t just storm into the Sacred Temple. They’ll gun you down first and ask questions later.”

  I smile at that line. I myself have done things like that in the past. “Look,” I say a little wary, as I’m losing my initial steam. “I’ll sneak into the place if that’s what you like, but I have to leave now otherwise we may not be able to prevent what the Cleric’s actions would cause.”

  “Open door!” Gresh says.

  I hear the door unseal behind me. I don’t turn to the door immediately.

  “Let me come with you,” he says. “We can work out something. Maybe I’ll distract the guards, and you’ll enter somehow…I don’t know.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re beginning to care for me now…” I say.

  He laughs it off. “I care for the cause. Perhaps, you and I are the only ones who seem to know what’s going on. If we don’t stop this, the world won’t know what hit them.”

  I turn and march towards the door. “Stay with the assassin. Don’t let her out of your sight. If she makes trouble, just knock her out. I’ll send someone from the Terran Embassy to come pick her so you won’t be investigated.”

  “You have no intentions of sneaking into the Temple, do you?” Gresh says.

  I chuckle sinisterly. “Of course not. I intend on fighting my way through.”

  I engage the autopilot as soon as I get into the aircar and input the coordinates for the Sacred Temple of the Holy Combine. I tap the emergency button. This aircar is specially retrofitted for my use as an agent of the Terran Armada Intelligence.

  The autopilot kicks the aircar to air-lane altitude in seconds. The aircar makes a beeline approach to the Temple, screaming at a speed that has the seat sucking me in. As I am headed to the Temple, a couple of scenarios are running through my mind. I’m especially thinking about the quandary of how I’m going to gain access into the Temple.

  Shouldn’t they just let me in, seeing as I’m there to save their sorry asses?

  But I know more than most that life just doesn’t work that way. Perhaps they don’t know what the Cleric is up to.

  What is he up to?

  I don’t even know. Is my timing off? That’s another question I face. Because if I’m right to be on to him, but if the timing is off, I’ll just end up tipping the Cleric off and getting arrested or most probably shot.

  However, the Sonali kind of made it seem so urgent that I get to the Temple as quickly as possible.

  But should I have trusted her so quickly?

  I wonder at myself. The map shows that we are almost at the edge of the Capital Grid, specifically less than two minutes out.

  I realize then that I have a decision to make. Burst into the Tempe, guns blazing without a clue of what I’m looking for or where I’m headed to. The explosion at the docks gives me an idea of what might be involved at the Temple, but I can’t be sure.

  Or turn back and pressure the Sonali for more information.

  It takes me only a minute to reach my decision. By this time, I am getting an incoming hail from the Temple’s security command center.

  “Unidentified air car on course towards Temple,” comes the voice in the air car, “turn back now or we will fire on you. We will not repeat this. Turn around right now.”

  At that moment, I take over from the autopilot and execute a forty-five degree nose dive for the sandy path leading up to the gate.

  A hidden twin barrel laser gun lets rip, missing my vehicle by the fraction of a second. I don’t let go of my downward motion, though every alarm in my vehicle is blaring. At the last moment, I pull up and jerk the choke to the right.

  The aircar slams into the ground and spins out of control, its forward motion unabated. It crashes into the gate, spinning at a terrifying rate and sending sparks in all direction. Guards open fire from all direction, but their aims are widely off. As soon as I notice the car’s motion beginning to abate, I pull out my gun and knife. I smash both my booted legs into the door of the aircar, and it tears off its hinges, cascading into a group of guards.

  While the car is still spinning, I leap out, executing a quick triple roll in midair and landing nimbly on the first set of stairs, my gun aimed at the knot of guards at the door.

  I take five quick shots in succession, and they all collapse to the floor, stunned. I dive out of the way as laser fire is unleashed on my previous position. I twist, bringing my gun to aim at the line of three guards in the courtyard advancing on the steps. I fire thrice, hitting them all in their midsections. They collapse in a heap, paralyzed.

  I come to my feet, gun and blade ready for more fights. Then, an alarm goes off. They know I’m here.

  I run through the doors into the main lobby. Down the hallway, I see a phalanx of guards running my way. They’re all carrying assault rifles. As soon as they spot me, they raise their guns to aim.

  I turn away and run towards the wall. I can take the steps that turn all the way to the second floor, but I’m hard-pressed for time. I leap several yards into the air and land on the wall like it was the ground, then I leap off the wall and kind off saunter through the air onto the landing of the first floor.

  “Where did she go?” someone yells under. “Find her now!”

  I run through the hallway that leads me to a large chamber with a dome-shaped glass ceiling that allows moonlight to come through. It’s like a mini courtyard. On the edge is a small gutter through which a thick shimmering liquid is flowing. There is a soft wind blowing through the courtyard; I’m not sure if there’s some sort of fan somewhere or if the wind is natural. The wind carries the freshness of spring and the warmth of summer. It’s delightfully soporific, and for a time I’m taken by the peacefulness of the courtyard, which calms my inner raging beast.

  The sound of running boots behind brings me back to reality.

  “Computer, are the nanites that were released in the temple still working inside the lockdown?” I mutter to my mini-pad, leaping across the vast courtyard to the other side. There is a small stone door in the wall. Now that I’m in the region of the t
emple’s shielding, I should be able to get a scan of the building, and if the nanites are still embedded in the electronics, I should be able to get the data.

  “Yes,” the computer replies in my ears.

  “Okay, activate them and have them find Cleric Szaad,” I say.

  I look through the corridor, where I came from, to the landing. I watch as the guards pour into the landing. Some head on straight, while others cautiously pass into the hallway. I slip out of direct line of sight, looking around for an exit.

  There are no mechanical lights here, only natural light. The courtyard is one big, mysterious vertical cylinder, with only one way in and no way out, except the small stone door and a set of stone steps away to my left that leads all the way around the curved walls of the courtyard to the top, where I can see a ledge.

  Probably a dead end, I guess. I fall into a defensive position, my gun aimed at the mouth of the corridor, ready to fight my way out of this dead end.

  “Found,” the computer says in my ears. “He’s in the main worship Hall.”

  “And where is that?” I mutter, my eyes peeled on the hallway. The soldiers must suspect my presence because they have stopped and are only approaching with extreme caution.

  “You are presently in the anteroom,” the computer says. “Proceed through the small door into the main worship hall.”

  I let loose a barrage of laser shots into the hallway and inch into direct line of sight and tap the small knob on the door. It recedes and then slides out of the way.

  I turn and run into the main worship hall. The moment I’m through, I dive out of the way as a couple of laser blasts slice through the air. I land badly on my left knee and feel it snap. I yelp, all efforts to control my fall failing. I crash into a set of pews, breaking them to pieces.

  The pain that wracks my body pales in comparison to the dread I feel when I see the High Cleric in the center of the impressively massive ovular worship hall standing beside a bomb.

  The guards pour into the hall and stop with their guns still aimed at the cleric and me.

  “What’s going on here!” the lead asks.

  “What’s going on here is that that mad cleric wants to destroy this Temple and I’m trying to stop him!” I yell in pain. I feel my nanites like cold water, flowing to my knees to repair my broken bone. I also sense a controlled dual release of a narcotic painkiller and a stimulant to keep me from succumbing to the soporific effect of the narcotics.

  When I notice that the guards are still struck by the sight before them, I yell at the top of my lungs. “Get the fuck out of here now!”

  The lead barks the order, and the guards retreat out of the main worship hall, shutting the door behind them.

  I manage to rise to my feet to get a good view of what I’m up against.

  What I see causes almost my heart to fail.

  And given how strong my heart is and all, that’s a fucking pretty big deal.

  No-One

  The main worship hall is a large room filled with benches made of wood. It has a very antiquated setting with the benches numbering in the several hundred and arranged in a concentric fashion. At the epicenter of the hall is a wide space where the High Cleric stands working the bomb.

  It’s a chemical bomb with three giant cylinders. Two of which are filled with bubbling liquids—one red, the other blue. These two cylinders feed at the same rate into the center cylinder. As the two liquids mix, they form of yellow pasty liquid that’s boiling. There’s a timer that I can read with my nanites. I have about five minutes before the third cylinder is filled up and the whole temple is blasted.

  I check my body. The drug agents are already wearing off my system. All pains have vanished. I feel sore in several parts of my body, but I’ll live. I flex my knee. There’s still a mild pain there, but it’s nothing that should deteriorate my abilities.

  I’m not sure the High Cleric has seen me. If he has, he sure hasn’t shown any sign of it. He’s so focused on the machine.

  I check my gun. It has about forty percent charge. It should be enough to disable the High Cleric. Really, it’s not like monks get training in advanced weapon duels.

  I walk to the nearest aisle and advance towards the center of the worship hall, gun leading. Three steps down and I walk past an invisible sound barrier. I pause. Now I understand why the High Cleric hasn’t noticed the ruckus I made. Also, he’s been so busy tweaking that bomb of his that he hasn’t looked up in a while.

  “It’s over, Szaad,” I yell, my voice echoing three times.

  Szaad’s head snaps up, his regal robes ruffling. His slits extend, and he has that deer in the head lights look on his face. His gaze then shifts to the foremost bench, where a laser rifle sits.

  Before I can say anything, he rushes to it and hefts it up. I leap into motion, racing towards the center of the hall. However, I am too far to get to him before he has the gun up and aiming at me.

  I dive into another section of benches. A massive onslaught of laser fire blast through the air, where I had just vacated. I roll up to a squat and pick my way through the debris of broken pew. I maintain a zigzag motion as the laser blast wreaks havoc all around me.

  One thing I have going for me besides Szaad’s erratic aim is his fear. I saw it in his eyes. He’s afraid of what my presence here means for his plans. He’s thrown off, and men who are thrown off often make mistakes easily—like shooting up the most sacred place in the Temple.

  I instinctively cower with my hands on my head as a series of blasts slice through the air above me, splintering a rank of benches near me.

  I leap out of my current position as the Cleric’s aim focuses on there. I roll on landing, coming up to my knee and rearing my head one more time. I aim and fire, then I dive again.

  The Cleric lets out a yelp of pain, but he’s still alive as several lashes of laser fire rake all around me. I stay put, shutting my eyes and hoping I don’t get hit. It’s all I can do because I’m pinned down.

  “You can’t stop me!” he shouts before roaring loudly and letting hell loose. The benches blow up in flames, and I dare not move lest his aim focus on me.

  The sound is deafening, yet my heart pounds in my ears so loud I fear my heart may beat right out of my chest.

  If I remain in my current position, one of the Cleric’s erratic shots will find me eventually, as I realize that he’s playing for time. If I move, I may make it out alive and maybe get off a shot to throw him off. I decide to take my shot with moving.

  I raise my gun and let loose a short burst of gunfire in the Cleric’s direction. For a brief moment, I’m not being shot at. I use this opportunity to shoot to my feet and leap into the air. I am sailing through the air, several yards above the Cleric.

  Shocked, the Cleric only looks at me, unsure why a Terran is so high up in the air. Nanites, bitch! I let loose a hail of stun shots on the Cleric. They all gather on his midsection, sending him flying across the hall. I land with a squat and straighten up. I run towards the machine.

  The timer is at less than one minutes. Off to the right, the Cleric has somehow survived the stun and is writhing in his crash site.

  “You can’t stop it,” he moans, “it’s too late.”

  Blood is rushing at an incredible speed through my ears. I try for the next thirty seconds to try and disarm it. I’m no bomb expert, so I look for anything remotely resembling an “off” button.

  All I see are wiring, tubes, a detonator and a fuse box. The rest of the bomb is hidden in the stand, which is a black box that I suppose is resistant to blaster shots. I notice that everything used to make the bomb is Terran materials that can only be gotten from within Terran space.

  I realize that this is the conspiracy. Blow up the Temple and set up the Terran Union to take the fall. Crafty, even for a Sonali.

  “It’s over, Terran,” he says coldly. “This bomb will go off, and they will blame it on the Terran Union.”

  I check the timer: ten seconds.

&n
bsp; I take three quick steps back, raise my gun—execution-style, with one foot before the other—aim at the middle cylinder and squeeze the trigger. A barrage of laser shots slices through the cylinder. It explodes, a ball of orange expanding through the air. I don’t feel the heat first. A concussion wave plucks me from where I’m standing and hauls me halfway through the back.

  I crash into pieces of splinter and ash. I remain there, hovering on the brink of a concussion. My nanites leap into action, repairing my body.

  I pick myself from the floor, covering my eyes with my arm and coughing. A thick smoke has filled the entire hall. It’s dark and putrid. I hear the air conditioner whine as it begins to clean up the air.

  I make my way cautiously to the center even while the air is still clearing up. I see the entire top of the bomb has been destroyed. Only the black base remains, though its cap has melted and destroyed much of the inner circuitry.

  It’s not the most technical means of disarming a bomb, but shooting up the reaction cylinder was the most effective way to prevent the liquids from reaching critical mass and triggering a massive explosion that could have taken down the temple.

  I look around. There are scorch marks everywhere around the center. Well, they won’t be using this hall anytime soon.

  I walk towards Szaad. He was out of the radius of the blast, but the concussion had hit him and sent him farther away.

  He’s barely conscious when I crouch over his limp form, flash one of my deadliest smiles, and say, “It is over, Sonali,” I whisper gravely. “I destroyed the bomb. I stopped you. Now tell me why?”

  A look of dismay comes over his face before he blacks out.

  No-One

  The smoke from the blast has left ash particles floating in the air all the way up to the ceiling, such that it is now coated in black. It’s an unusually large amount of soot for an explosion, but this is a chemical-based explosive that I dealt with. I’m not sure the air is even safe to breathe.

  I walk away from the center to the nearest section of benches that are still intact. Looking around, I see that a third of the main worship hall has been ruined. Splinters of wood and blocks of granite litter the place. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought this place was a war-torn area.