by Toby Minton
His injuries were almost all healed, but Michael didn't let on, not yet. He kept up the injured prey act to draw the Hunter in, to make the machine overcommit. It worked. The Hunter dragged him closer with its left hand until he was right under the thing. It studied him for a second like it might not take the bait, then it stabbed down with its right arm, driving those deadly claws toward Michael's chest, and that was all the opening Michael needed.
He twisted and caught the Hunter's wrist and forearm, using its momentum to drive the claws deep into the ground, and he held it there. In the space of half a breath he drew his left hand back, focused all his power on a single point, and struck, driving his hand through the metal arm.
The Hunter jerked back off balance, leaving its hand and wrist in the ground.
Michael rolled to his feet and gave chase, his confidence surging with the renewed strength from Nikki. The Hunter swung at him as he closed, but the blow fell short now that its right arm ended in a jagged metal stump just below the elbow. Michael's powerful front kick sent it reeling back further.
The energy flow from Nikki stopped, but Michael continued to press the attack. While he had the edge, he needed to do as much damage as he could. Nikki was still restrained somehow, so he knew he couldn't count on another surge from her. How she'd managed that last one, he had no idea. The energy he had now was likely all he was going to get, and it wouldn't last long the way he was expending it.
The Hunter was twice his size and still stronger, despite the surge from Nikki, but it scrambled back as Michael struck again and again.
Too late Michael realized he was charging into the same trap he'd just used. When the Hunter suddenly stopped its retreat, Michael's rush took him too close. The broken arm slashed out, leaving a burning whelp across Michael's chest as he knocked it aside. Thanks to Nikki, he was too tough for the slash to break skin, for now. But that first attack was just the distraction. He knew the real attack was coming from behind, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Michael's vision blurred as the Hunter's good hand wrapped around his head from behind and drove him face-first into the ground. It lifted him up and slammed him down again. It jerked him up again, wrenching his back and neck, and flung him into the air. Michael opened his eyes to see the world spinning around him before he slammed into something that took his breath away.
When his vision steadied again, he was twenty meters from the Hunter, on his hands and knees next to the concrete wall of the main building that had stopped his flight. He didn't get time to catch his breath. The Hunter charged forward on its two remaining limbs, and Michael once again found himself in a fight for his life.
Chapter 41
Padre
Through his scope, Padre could read the expression on the face of the soldier whose life he was about to take. The man was hunched as low as he could get in the rubble that had been the back wall of the hangar, a field com in one hand, his unfired rifle in the other as he wrestled with his decision. He was the current OIC of the security team, freshly promoted thanks to an earlier shot from Padre's rifle. He was the third to hold the position this morning. The tremor in his lips as his eyes darted frantically back and forth along the ridge said he didn't like his chances of being the last.
From the shadowed crevice under an air processor unit on the third-story roof of the main building, well below where the officer was looking, Padre took in a slow breath as he counted in time with each beat of his heart.
One, two, three, four—
He let out half the breath and held it as he rested his finger on the trigger.
Seven, eight—
He started his smooth, even pull, waiting for a space between heartbeats to pass the break.
Ten, eleven—
The officer made his decision and spoke into his com, his command saving his life. Padre couldn't hear the words, but “fall back” wasn't hard to read on the man's lips, especially when repeated that many times. The officer's predecessors had been stubborn men, solid soldiers. They'd inspired and demanded loyalty and pressed their men to stand their ground. In other words, they'd been dangerous. This officer, on the other hand, was exactly the kind of man Padre needed in charge.
He shifted his finger back to the trigger guard and lifted his head slightly to scan his kill zone. As expected, the retreating soldiers were fleeing south around the hangar, the OIC first among them. They weren't falling back to a better position. They were deserting. Padre didn't blame them. If they hung around, they'd have to face Savior and explain what he'd no doubt see as cowardice. Padre would run too if he were in their shoes. Wisdom and cowardice looked much the same on the battlefield, and both tended to keep a man alive.
Padre pressed his com. “Cattle in the chute. Heads up, Charlie.”
The deserters shouldn't be a problem, but they were passing through Charlie quadrant near where Coop and Mos where working at the moment. Best not to take chances.
He eased forward to expand his field of view toward Alpha quadrant. After a quick naked-eye scan of the area to locate what he was seeking, he turned to his scope to bring Elias into view. His CO had shifted to a closer fire position behind one of the larger slabs of concrete thrown off by Coop's charges in the hangar. He didn't look pleased, and Padre didn't have to work to guess why.
They'd had no word from Bravo since Mos left the area and no word from Impact since his strike. The engagement might look to be going in their favor, what with Savior's forces starting to fall apart, but their true enemy today was time. The clock had started ticking the second Impact hit that wall. Every minute that passed from that point increased Nikki's danger. She was a hostage, after all. The worse the battle went for the other side, the more likely Savior or one of his men was to use her as one.
Michael was supposed to mitigate the risk by making Nikki strong enough to protect herself, but with no word from Bravo, Elias had to assume something had gone wrong, which meant it was time for Padre to go in after Nikki.
He pressed his com. “Alpha—Padre. Quiet night.” In other words, still no word from the west side of the compound. Padre couldn't make himself use plain speech, no matter how much Kate argued for it. Even the best com security could be broken. Still, it was simple code, easy enough to crack if anyone was listening, so he considered it a compromise.
Through the scope he watched Elias's expression tighten further. Elias didn't seem to care for the reminder that it was past time to switch plans, which was unlike him. He'd been clear in the briefing that Padre, with the most comprehensive view of the field, should issue or counter orders as needed. Many commanders might take issue with such a setup, but Elias wasn't most commanders. He wasn't prone to fits of ego, especially while in the field. So why the hesitation?
“I want eyes on Bravo, Padre,” Elias said after weighing his options for several more heartbeats. He lifted his eyes toward the ridge line. “Get there.”
Not the order Padre expected. It gave him pause to hear such an obvious break from the plan issued plainly over the com, but he wasn't about to question. The look on Elias's face told him his CO meant his words exactly as he'd said them. He started to move his eye from the scope, but Gideon's voice stopped him.
“Belay that order. Bravo is under control. Proceed to two.”
“Copy, Bravo. Proceeding to two,” he responded automatically to the order, even though it too was off plan. If Bravo was under control, meaning Michael's plan was working, why proceed to the backup and send Padre inside? Didn't matter. Gideon was both the ranking officer and possibly in a position to see as much of the field as Padre, if Kate's guesses about the security setup were on target. Padre would have moved to obey without hesitation if he hadn't seen Elias's reaction.
Through the scope, he couldn't help but read the suspicion darkening Elias's eyes. Something was wrong if Elias was questioning Gideon, even if not openly. Suddenly the exchanges Padre had witnessed over the past few weeks took on new meaning, or renewed meaning. Padr
e had entertained his own suspicions about the growing tension between Elias and Gideon, but that was his nature. He was suspicious of everybody and everything, which was why he was such a good scout, and such a live one. He had set his suspicions aside for later. Watching Elias's struggle through the scope, he knew that later was now.
The story on Elias's face was as obvious as it was unsettling. He didn't trust Gideon, not in this situation, but he didn't want to muddy the battlefield by countering the order. He didn't want to risk confusion, or worse, division when his people needed to be focused and working as a team. But not saying something was taking a toll.
“Alpha—Padre. I'm moving out,” Padre said into the com. He could have stopped there. By all rights he should have. “Your six is clear, Alpha. Recommend you see to that wound.” The “wound” was a cut no more than two centimeters long under Elias's eye, probably from a glancing chip of concrete. It was nothing. The message was as clear as Padre could make it: no eyes on you but mine, Elias. If you have something to say...
Elias lifted his gaze to the ridge line, where he and everybody else assumed Padre to be. With a stony expression, he pointed both fingers at his own eyes then toward the west.
Yes, sir.
Padre crawled backward clear of the air processor and rose to a crouch. He lifted the rifle strap over his neck to ease the weapon around onto his back and moved toward the rope he already had in place to reach the roof of the fourth story. He kept his movements fluid, one action overlapping and flowing into the next, and his eyes in constant motion over the roof and the ridge beyond.
The climb was quick but as controlled and smooth as every other movement. He knew any motion could draw eyes, but smooth movements matching the speed of ambient motion—tree branches swaying in the wind, fan motors spinning, satellite dishes rotating—stood the best chance of being overlooked, especially in the heat of battle.
Once he rolled over the roof edge and onto the highest point of the main building, Padre stayed low enough so only someone on the ridge could see him and took a second to survey the new terrain as he coiled his rope. He'd seen this expanse of roof from the ridge, but parts of it had been obstructed by the massive vent units and communication equipment. Now that he had a clear view of the obstructed parts, he saw a problem.
What had looked like a landing area from the ridge was actually a set of wide recessed doors, the kind used over an emergency hangar. Not good, he thought as he moved past the doors toward the southern edge of the roof overlooking Bravo quadrant. If that hangar housed a gunship of any kind, their evac would be in jeopardy. He'd have to deal with whatever was in there before he got Nikki out. But first he had to disobey Gideon's order and put eyes on—
Padre swung his rifle around and up and dropped to a knee in one motion. He didn't have time for a more stable fire position. He didn't have time to report to Elias. He didn't have time to do anything but react. He pulled a sight picture on the first clear vulnerable spot he saw and fired.
Michael
Michael spun away from a swipe, but not fast enough. The Hunter's claws slashed across his back and flung him into the air. He hit the ground and rolled, but not as gracefully as he had before. He pushed himself up as soon as he stopped sliding, the four burning lines tightening his back telling him the metal claws had broken the skin this time.
Michael was fighting with every shred of skill and strength he had, but it was a fight he couldn't win. That much was obvious. He was weakening and slowing a little more with each wound he took to power Nikki up, but still it wasn't enough. She still couldn't break free, and he couldn't take much more.
He knew winning the fight was never really a possibility. He'd known that before he stepped onto this field. But that hadn't stopped him, nor would it make him back down now. What he'd said to Gideon was the simple truth. He could always save his sister. He didn't have to win this fight to do it. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Until now, though, he'd tried to hold his ground. He'd avoided the more vicious attacks when he could, even countered with strikes of his own when he saw an opening. But he couldn't keep that up. Doing so would just delay Nikki's escape. He couldn't do this halfway. Nikki needed more power. She needed everything he could give, and she wasn't going to get it from his dodging around. To give her what she needed, he had turn off both his fight and flight instincts. He had to stop running, stop fighting. He had to just let go and take the hits.
The Hunter came toward him, four meters of cold metal and lethal instinct. It moved awkwardly on one arm and one leg, but no less quickly.
Michael stood as straight as he could, his back to the wall of the main building, and waited. He wanted his courage to hold, to show the monster no fear, but at the last second his eyes closed. Use this, Nikki. Get out of there.
The Hunter slammed him into the concrete wall. Blocks crumbled behind him at the impact, some of them crushed to powder. But that was nothing compared to the damage to Michael. He couldn't catalog it. He didn't want to. The pain, or lack of it in places, told him all he needed to know.
He slid down from the indention in the wall and would have fallen if the Hunter's hand hadn't shot out again and wrapped around his leg, its fingers cutting into him. Then the world turned into a dizzying cycle of motion and crushing pain as the Hunter whipped him over its head and slammed him into the ground. Over and over.
He didn't lose consciousness, or if he did it didn't last, as much as he wanted it to. Everything hurt, even breathing. His vision had turned to a hazy, flashing blur, but it cleared enough for him to see he was lying on the ground a good fifty meters from the main building.
The Hunter was looming over him, its good hand pinning him to the ground at the waist, even though Michael couldn't feel it there. The sharp, jagged stump of its broken arm was poised over him, reared back to deliver a stabbing strike.
Michael looked up into the Hunter's eyes. It was studying him, weighing him, like it was looking for some kind of trap, like this was too easy.
“Do it,” Michael said, surprised his voice sounded as clear to his ears as it did. He wondered if it was the numbness below his chest that gave him the surge of confidence and bravado, or if it was just an echo of Nikki's rampaging emotions and roaring power. Either way, he made himself smile a predator's smile. “You lose, Bug Bot. Go ahead—do it, and there'll be nothing left of you when she's done.”
That did it. He saw the decision to end him in the glowing mechanical eyes. But before the blow could fall, something popped in the Hunter's good knee. Three quick rhythmic cracks, and the knee buckled. The Hunter canted over, and for a weak heartbeat Michael thought it would topple.
Then the broken arm stabbed down.
Nikki
“Open this damn tank! Now!” she screamed at Price, at the fear-struck technicians frozen in place in the lab, at anyone. But nobody was listening, even though she knew they could hear her now that the BioGel had drained past the top two holes Price had made in the glass.
Another surge of power tingled through her from Michael as something slashed across his back, and Nikki's breath caught. She was strong. Like, crazy strong. Stronger than she'd ever been, near as she could tell. She was going to owe Michael big time for this one. She'd have to let him go first the next three or four times they fought, at least.
“Everyone out,” Price ordered, his pistol still aimed in Nikki's general direction. “Clear the lab, now!”
That broke the quick freeze on the lab coats. They headed for the doors, leaving the rest of their equipment where it lay as they fled. All except Radij, of course. He had dragged himself to the wall and halfway to a sitting position. There he sat, staring at Price in equal parts fear and shock as he held his hand to the hole in his shoulder to try and stop the flow of blood.
Nikki tested the restraints again with her new strength, pulling with all four limbs, trying to curl herself into a ball, and this time she definitely felt her right hand shift. Her excitement was short lived th
ough. What she felt coming through the link from Michael was the last thing she expected to feel from him during a fight.
Usually, when they were mid-fight like this, she could count on a steady stream of calm, steely control from her too-rigid twin, with the occasional spike of frustration toward her, of course. Every once in a while, she'd feel a twinge of concern from him, which usually meant he'd accidentally hurt somebody. But that was about it. What she felt from him now was something she never would have expected. It felt like...surrender. The chill she felt suddenly had nothing to do with the frigid BioGel that was now only knee deep.
What she felt next would have brought her to her knees if she could have moved. Something crushed him. She had no other word for it. It felt like he'd been hit by a truck. The flood of sensation was too much for her to sort out his injuries.
No sooner had the power started flooding into her than something slammed into him again, or he slammed into something. And it didn't stop. Whatever it was hit him again and again.
The rush of his pain mixed with the surges of power was too much for her to bear. She felt his back break, felt his shattered ribs pierce a lung, then too many other ruptures and fractures on top of each other for her to keep up.
Finally, blessedly, it stopped. The power surge didn't. Her strength continued to swell like it was never going to stop. She didn't want to think about what that meant. She couldn't. Michael was hurt to a degree she couldn't fully process. She had to get out of the tank. Now.
She'd just started to pull on the right restraint again when the final blow fell. She felt it like she was there with him, felt it pierce his heart.
“NO!” She thrashed wildly at the restraints, even though doing so couldn't bring her full power to bear.
You lose—you lose. She's coming.
Nikki stopped thrashing. She'd heard him. She knew she had. It wasn't just her imagination. She could feel him like he was right beside her. Not his injuries, not the horrible damage to his body. She could feel him.
