Homeguard

by Jason Cordova

  As he paused before entering the twenty-fifth floor, his suit chimed another warning. The suit had detected loud noises, well over 150 decibels, from somewhere on the floor. Since the only thing he could think of that would cause such a loud noise was gunfire, odds were likely he’d find some marines to kill at long last. Checking the door, he found a remote sensor and chemical composite explosive material on the other side. Nodding, Gabriel moved to the side of the door and checked the wall. As he’d expected, there was no sign of either plumbing or electric lines running through, merely a few wooden studs which held up the drywall.

  Gabriel punched his hand into the wall and pulled it apart, creating enough room for his suit to slip through.

  Cautiously, he peeked his head out of the hole to look around. He couldn’t see anything, but the suit was picking up more gunfire from the far end of the hall. Gabriel noticed this was on the south-facing side of the building, where a goodly chunk of Wraiths had been pinned down by the combined forces of the snipers and the Goliath tanks. While the suit had told him initially that the majority of fire came from higher up, it made sense that they would alternate their firing angles. Experience told him that varying positions made it difficult for someone to do precisely what he was doing now. He didn’t have a count of how many marines were in the building, and any previous estimates had been tossed out the window.

  As carefully as he could, Gabriel pulled himself through the hole. The suit was able to isolate the source of gunfire and determined it to be coming from the two apartments at the far end of the hall. Before he could engage the marines, however, he had to ensure the apartments between him and the marines were cleared. It was frustrating, but the last thing he needed was to miss someone and get shot in the back because he’d rushed.

  One. Two. Three…each passing apartment he scanned seemed to raise his blood pressure another notch. Though the inside of his suit was cool, he felt as though he was sweating profusely. The gel between his skin and the suit’s armor absorbed it all and repurposed it, but it was still uncomfortable. For a fleeting instant, Gabriel wondered how horrible he smelled inside the suit.

  As he reached the last two doors, the gunfire inside tapered off. Intrigued, Gabriel pressed his hand against the door and let the suit do the work.

  “Repositioning now,” a man’s voice said from inside the room. “Post Bravo Three, out.”

  Gabriel frowned. It sounded as if the marines were about to move out. He had two options, both of which would lead to a bloodbath. The first option was to burst into the apartment and dig them out, which would be dangerous for him. The Darksuit wasn’t invulnerable, relying more on stealth than anything else. One of the marines could get a lucky shot and, considering the amount of ammunition which would be flying his way, a lucky shot seemed more than likely. The second option was safer, but could take longer. He could simply wait outside in the hallway, out of sight. The marines would come down the hall, and Gabriel could pop out and slaughter them. The narrow hallway would funnel them toward him or away. The danger here was obvious, though. If they were confined to the hallway, so was he.

  The door swung open suddenly, and Gabriel found himself staring at a small squad of marines in full battle dress. They stepped back suddenly as they came face to face with a creature directly out of their nightmares. One of the marines shouted, and they all fell back into the room, fanning out. Their weapons came up, and Gabriel, without really thinking, dove to the right as the squad began to fire.

  “Delta Six Actual, Post Bravo Three,” a panicky voice called out from within the room. The entire wall behind where Gabriel had just been standing was shredded as the armor-piercing rounds tore through the thin plaster with ease. He wasn’t certain if he was hearing it, or the suit was intercepting the comms signal from the panicky marines. Not that it mattered. Word was out now, and it would only be a matter of time before more marines were pouring into the tower to kill him. The voice continued, “There’s a Darkling in the Mauser Tower!”

  So much for the element of surprise. Gabriel silently swore as he felt around on his belt. For the umpteenth time, he wished he still had his Velico handgun. He’d turned down the offer of a few of the carbines the Wraiths used when they weren’t in their suits, a decision he was coming to regret. His fingers closed on the blade, and the sword came off his suit. Making a mental note to get his hands on a carbine as soon as he could, he pivoted and entered the doorway. One of the enterprising marines had closed the apartment’s front door, so Gabriel opened it in the fastest manner possible—by running through it.

  The door exploded inward. Gabriel, anticipating that the door would be sturdier, stumbled into the room and fell flat on his face. More shouts and screams filled his ears as the marines continued to shoot. Smoke and dust filled the room, making visibility difficult for everyone not in a combat suit. More gunfire poured forth. Gabriel swung his armored foot out and broke the closest marine’s legs. The man cried out in pain and dropped heavily to the floor. His eyes widened as he fell below the layer of smoke and saw Gabriel.

  Stabbing him through the eye, Gabriel twisted the blade. The nanomolecular-edged blade sliced through the bone with ease. He jerked the sword across to his left and neatly removed the top half of the marine’s head. Brains and blood spilled out onto the expensive hardwood floor, making the surface slick. Gabriel flipped onto his stomach and saw there were eight marines left standing, and it appeared none of them could see him through the smoke and dust.

  He couldn’t afford to give them the opportunity. Pushing his body along the floor with his legs, he managed to get close to two more marines. He sliced through their hamstrings, and they fell, shouting in pain.

  “Floor! He’s on the fl—” one managed to cry out before Gabriel drove his sword through the man’s neck, impaling him to the hardwood. He died with a gurgle, blood quickly pooling beneath his nearly-severed head.

  The second marine, wounded but still alive, shot Gabriel in the chest at point-blank range. The rounds, however, bounced harmlessly aside as the junonium-enhanced armor saved his life. Gabriel rewarded the man’s fine shooting by punching him through the face. The man’s death was instantaneous as Gabriel yanked his hand back through the marine’s head.

  “Shit,” Gabriel muttered as bits of bone, hair, blood, and brain stuck to his finger joints. He glanced up and saw the barrel of a rifle pointed directly at his face. Gabriel lashed out and managed to shove the muzzle aside as it began to fire. He felt the impacts on his shoulder and arm. A biting flash of icy-hot pain jolted his senses as one of the rounds penetrated the armor and embedded in the meaty part of his left bicep. He cried out and managed to grab his sword with the other hand as the suit went to work.

  The Leviathan cortex sensed his injury first and instantly relayed the information to the Darksuit. The gel that coated Gabriel’s body to protect him from the kinetic shock of moving around in the suit was also capable of transferring stored reserves of analgesics to any site where a wound was detected. Anti-inflammatory medicines flooded the wound to keep the swelling down, while a topical agent in the gel cleansed the wound, ensuring no infection could take root.

  Unbeknownst to Gabriel, the suit then decided the damage to the bicep brachii muscle was severe enough to warrant a localized nerve block. However, the suit also recognized that the occupant was still in immediate danger. Instead of completely taking the arm out of action, the cortex decided to do the next best thing. It instructed the suit to block the musculocutaneous nerve instead, which would prevent further injury to the bicep, while still allowing Gabriel the ability to use the brachialis muscle, albeit at only 70 percent efficiency.

  This still left the wearer of the Darksuit far deadlier than the remaining marines in the room combined.

  These decisions by the suit took less than half a second. Gabriel didn’t know any of what had transpired, only that he’d been shot, but suddenly felt just fine. Sword in hand, he finally managed to pull himself into a crouching p
osition. He lashed out with the blade and gutted the marine who’d shot him. Using the dying marine as a meat shield, Gabriel stood up and turned toward where his HUD told him the last few marines were.

  Seeing the monster from legend looming in their midst, the marines opened fire with reckless abandon. The rounds impacted on the marine Gabriel was using to protect himself. The soldier jerked as round after round hit his back and armor plate. He died horribly, mouth wide from pain, sword driven completely through his stomach, armor-piercing rounds puncturing the rest of his vital organs from behind.

  The noise in the room suddenly stilled as the magazines of the marines’ weapons ran dry. Dumbfounded looks spread across their faces as each of them realized they were dead. Gabriel dropped the body of the marine who had protected him and amplified his voice to a higher volume. Experience told him that men such as they probably hadn’t put any hearing protection on before their impromptu gunfight, and their eardrums were probably damaged.

  “You have been found guilty of war crimes against the people and the State,” he declared as the glowing sword in his hand slowly dripped blood onto the floor. “Your punishment shall be execution. Have you anything to say in your defense?”

  “I—” one of the four remaining marines began. Gabriel removed his head before he could finish with a single cut of his sword. The others began to shriek and run, moving in different directions. Gabriel kicked one as he tried to get past him, the heavily armored boot shattering the man’s hip. He fell to the ground awkwardly, and Gabriel heard another snap! as the arm the marine had used to arrest his fall broke as well.

  The last two surviving marines almost made it to the shattered door, but slipped in the pool of blood from Gabriel’s first kill. Their combat boots, suited for rough terrain and all sorts of natural environments, weren’t designed to handle slick floors. They skidded in the mess and fell over one another, arms flailing as they tried to grab each other to keep themselves on their feet. Crashing to the ground in a jumbled heap, they barely had time to register what was happening before Gabriel was there.

  Not a cruel man, Gabriel quickly performed a coup de grâce, removing both marines’ heads with one stroke. As each head rolled onto the floor, their former owners’ life blood began to pour onto the hardwood, joining their compatriots’. Gabriel barely spared the severed heads a glance before he looked back at the marines he’d only wounded. The Darksuit scanned each body and saw that one was dying, albeit slowly, while the marine he’d kicked would potentially survive. For a brief moment, he considered leaving the soldier on the floor where he was.

  His mind drifted back to the two young men he’d found in the stairwell earlier. Executed outside their homes for no apparent reason, then tossed into the stairwell. There was no dignity there. What had happened was cold-blooded murder. The invasion of Belleza Sutil wasn’t about quelling a rebellion, but asserting the power and the authority of Prince Ezekiel. Gabriel’s blood boiled as this flitted through his mind, and he stalked over to the wounded marines on the ground.

  Bright blue eyes looked up at him. The marine was young, possibly younger than Gabriel. Blood and dust caked his face. There was fear in his eyes, as well as the knowledge of what was to come, yet confusion lay buried deep within. The Darkling understood fear. He knew it on a personal level. Part of his soul, the side that had dictated much of his actions during the events immediately after Sophie’s death, knew this marine had to die. The innocent side of Gabriel, his long-past youth and carefree days on this very planet, agreed.

  Penance must be paid for such transgressions. The marine had to know this. Gabriel couldn’t understand why the marine still looked at him with incomprehension. For every action, there were consequences. Every Wraith was taught this from the moment they set foot inside the training compound of MITC. From the smallest slight to world-changing events, everything was weighed and judged by the scales of fate. The wounded marine had taken lives, and now fate had determined his should end at Gabriel’s hand.

  The very tip of the monomolecular-edged sword dug into the marine’s neck. The blade opened the carotid artery, and Gabriel withdrew the sword. The man’s lifeblood began to pump out in steady, rhythmic pulses. His mouth opened like a fish, desperately trying to breathe, scream, something, anything, to plead for help. Help that would never arrive.

  Bright blue eyes continued to stare up at Gabriel. An expressionless mask met the querying look of the young marine. The Darkling felt nothing as the man died slowly at his feet.

  Turning, Gabriel began to walk to the door, carefully stepping over the three bodies near the entrance. His comms crackled, and something tried to communicate with his suit. However, it wasn’t one of the Wraith frequencies, so Gabriel initially ignored it as safeguards came into play, pushing the interloping signal out. A new comms signal arrived, different from the first, but still unknown. Gabriel, mildly curious, allowed it through.

  “Darkling, do you hear me?” a voice asked over the comms. Gabriel’s suit couldn’t identify the source of the signal, which was irritating. He guessed it was coming from whoever was in command of the occupying ground force, or the other Darkling. Perhaps it was the same person. The voice continued, “Darkling, I know you’re receiving this. Confirm, over.”

  “I hear you,” Gabriel said in a low voice as he inspected the sword. Gore coated most of it, which meant the suit would need to clean it thoroughly after he’d reintegrated it into his thigh. Giving it a slight flick with his wrist, the fatty tissue stuck to the edge was freed. He pressed the blade against his leg, and the Darksuit’s armor claimed it once more.

  “There are very few Darklings left after the attack on Gran Via.” The voice over the comm seemed vaguely familiar, though Gabriel couldn’t place it. “Where were you?”

  “Recon assignment,” Gabriel said as he walked out of the destroyed apartment, not giving any of the bodies he’d left inside a second glance. He consulted the floorplans of the building and realized that the last door wasn’t a second apartment, but a small broom closet. The larger housing unit he’d just cleared was a deluxe, two apartments combined into one. Not on the original plans, they’d been added on a later set.

  “In the name of the emperor, I demand you reveal your name to me.”

  “I am Gabriel,” he replied in a solemn voice.

  There was silence on the other end for a moment before the voice returned. It was far more hesitant than previously. “Gabriel? Ibliss? Ptolemy?”

  “Yes,” Gabriel acknowledged. There was no reason to hide his past deeds. It was the past that forged the iron to stand against future horrors.

  “Fuck me…” the voice whispered and paused. When it came back, there was a decided edge to it. “Marine units, this is Delta Six Actual. Commence Mincemeat. Repeat, commence Mincemeat.”

  “Mincemeat…” Gabriel stopped at the ruined doorway and glanced back inside. He clicked his comms back on to broadcast. “What’s mincemeat?”

  “I’m sorry, Gabriel,” the voice came back. It truly sound miserable and unhappy. “I’m just following orders. For what it’s worth, you’ll always have a place at my table, ubhuti wami. Ube nenkosi yethu, mfowethu.”

  His throat constricted as Gabriel recognized the voice at last. He coughed slightly as he tried to rid himself of the hitch. The odds of him running into him…were astronomical, he knew. Yet here, of all places and locations, was one of the few men who’d earned Gabriel’s respect in battle. A specter from the past to haunt his soul. Bekha “Beeker” Msizi, the other member of his squad to undergo the Darkling process, had survived the change after all.

  There was an audible click! on the comms, and Gabriel suddenly felt as though he’d been completely isolated from everything in the world. It was a strange sensation, one he couldn’t defend against as his emotions suddenly welled to the surface. Pain, anger, regret, loneliness. All the negativity and issues he’d dealt with after Sophie had died pushed back to the surface. Growling, Gabriel shoved it all
aside as he focused on the light. His brother’s annoying laugh, his daughter’s unconditional love.

  There would come a day when his spirit failed. Today was not that day. Even if it meant killing one of the few people in the known universe he’d been able to call a friend and a brother in battle.

  “Dry Burn, it’s Gabriel,” he tried, but there was no reply. “Dry Burn? Shit. Esau?”

  “This is Esau,” his best friend came back on the comms almost instantly. “Go ahead, Omelet.”

  “The marines are planning something,” Gabriel informed him. He decided against letting him know who they were facing. Part of it was fear, but another aspect of it was simpler. He wouldn’t put that burden on Esau or his Wraiths. They had a siege to lift still. Gabriel would handle Beeker when the time came. “They’re calling it ‘Mincemeat.’ It’s a code for something.”

  “You think?” Esau growled. “Wait one. We have some prisoners we can interrogate.”

  “I don’t think we have that much time,” Gabriel said, his tone quiet as he walked into the blood-soaked apartment. The windows had been shot out a long time before, during the initial assault upon the city. He wasn’t certain who’d caused the destruction, however. It might have been Wraiths shooting up at the marines, or marines firing upon the Wraiths below. There was too much damage for him to be able to determine.

  “I can interrogate real quick, when needed,” Esau promised him as the comms went silent once more.

  An explosion rocked the building, followed closely by a second. Gabriel nearly lost his balance after the second one. Swearing, he grabbed hold of a nearby piece of furniture and looked outside. He blinked. It might have been an optical illusion, but it appeared the entire building was swaying back and forth.