by O. J. Lowe
At least until he saw the body.
This guy was wearing a maintenance uniform and lay resting against one of the walls, a single entry wound to his head the only sign of what killed him. It wasn’t a hard one, Wilsin had to admit. It had burned straight through him; he could see the blood stains on the walls behind him. Wilsin noted the brown stains on his front, just as his boot clinked against something on the floor. A dropped cup or rather the remnants of it.
Didn’t take a genius to work it out. The guy had been here, drinking something, he’d been taken by surprise and shot. Granted, things may not be that simple but it was how it looked right now.
With a growing bad feeling about him, David Wilsin reached into his pack and drew out his X7, suddenly comforted by the weight in his hand. At least he’d brought it with him. The idea of facing down a potential murderer around here with no way to defend himself beyond his own fists… It didn’t bode well. He reached up and activated his muffler and his personal shield, hoping he wouldn’t need them all.
He should call it in. Yet any attempts to do that, as Arnholt had informed him earlier, left him unable to make a connection. The storm must be interfering with the system, an unusual circumstance if he was honest. In most other places, sure it might be slower, but it was unusual for the entire system to be compromised in a situation like this.
Shoddy Vazaran engineers more likely. He was on his own. Wilsin gulped, only for a moment before steadying himself. He was a highly trained agent of Unisco, there wasn’t anything here that should trouble him. Being jumpy wouldn’t kill him though.
He took one step into the darkness, weapon pointed to the ground as he moved. Emergency lighting lit up the route ahead, enough for him to keep on going in half light. He could hear the squelch underfoot of the wet ground, signs that someone had been here relatively recently. They’d come out of the rain and gone this way. He tried to avoid the squeak of his own footwear on the ground, the last thing he wanted to do was advertise his presence to someone up ahead and walk into an ambush.
He’d found a ladder, the rungs still wet and made the choice to head down into the bowels of the building. Whatever was going on, it appeared that was where the action was. Although there was light down there, it was hard to make out anything too descript from the position up here.
Descending into unknown, possibly hostile space… Oh joy. Exactly what you didn’t want to do. Unless you had to. And right now, it looked like he had to. If there was a murderer down there, he had to follow. That man had been someone’s son, possibly someone’s husband or father. And his loved ones would never see him again now; they’d never hear his voice or see him do any of the dozens of little things that made up a life.
He had to at least make the effort, he knew that as he climbed onto the ladder and started to descend, slowly at first to minimise sound before hitting the illuminated area. With it at head height and the ground in sight, he dropped the last few feet, gun back up in front of him. Only then did he realise someone else was in the tunnel just up ahead of him. He stood up quickly, his boot squeaking on the grating as he did…
Nick Roper turned around to face him, soaking wet from the rain, X7 in hand and a surprised look on his face.
Chapter Seventeen. Those of Us Who Are About to Die.
“Consider that the Divines no longer have a presence on this world beyond what they left behind. That much is plain for anyone to see. Yet this rather leads us to ask the question of what happened to them. Did they decide that humanity no longer needed their leadership? Their presence? Their inspiration remains, it guides us all at some point or another in our lives. We can’t deny them for very long. We still try to supplicate them at some point or another. I firmly believe… Keep in mind that their powers are far beyond anything you or I can comprehend… I believe they left. I believe they are still out there and I believe that one day they will come back.”
Doctor Jeremiah Blut, leading a lecture on Religious Theory on the continued lack of presence of the Divines in the five kingdoms.
The twenty fifth day of Summerdawn.
There was a train of thought that existed in many quarters, one not really proved one way or another for certain but widely agreed to have a small ring of truth to it if nothing else to it. Some way or another, because of the processes involved in claiming them, some spirits will invariably start to resemble their callers of in terms of traits.
David Wilsin could see all the arguments for that theory there and then in Nick Roper, what he’d seen in his spirits when he’d fought. The reactions were fantastic, the speed and the coordination just as honed. More than that, he could see it etched on his features. The willpower. The desire to stay alive. This was a man who would shoot first and ask questions later if he felt is life was in danger. A survivor. It was a useful skill to have among Unisco agents. The best stayed alive. It was also everything he hoped he’d never quite become during his career.
The X7 told him that was what he was. Unisco. His colleague. Nobody else carried the weapon. Roper hadn’t lowered it all the way, he raised an eyebrow at him and grinned.
“Out for a walk, are we? The charming hotspots of Carcaradis Island in all their beauty under the light of the moon.”
“You know it,” Wilsin said. “Care to point that thing somewhere else? We’re on the same side here. Agent Roper, I presume.”
Roper said nothing.
“I can see through your muffler, if you’ve got it on, you log. But if it’d suit you, I’ll reach in and show you my…”
“Agent David Wilsin,” Roper said. “I know who you are. Caught onto you a lot faster than you caught onto me.” He grinned at him. “Now show me your shield and tell me what you’re doing down here. Just humour me.”
Wilsin didn’t hesitate; he brought out the silver badge and smiled. “Satisfied?” He thought about asking for Roper’s; didn’t feel like he had a case to demand anything with a blaster pointed at his head.
“A little. You still didn’t…”
“Someone died upstairs.”
“I know.”
“Did you do it?” Wilsin honestly didn’t believe he’d done it. Yet at the same time it felt wise to ask.
“Hells no. Dead when I got here. No signal to call it in. Came down here to see if I could track them. You?”
“Same. You just happened across this place?”
“I keep my eyes open,” Nick said. “Nothing suspicious gets past me. You ever seen rain like this?”
“Not in Vazara. Or anywhere else for that matter. Not like this. Not this quickly. Don’t tell me we got bad guys who built a weather machine?”
“Couldn’t say,” Nick said. “Noorland told me it wasn’t possible to do that. In theory anyway. He said there’s not a power source big enough anywhere in the kingdoms to do that. Nah, it’s probably just coincidence. It makes our job harder though. What were you doing down here?”
Wilsin swallowed, wiped at his face again. “The boss’s daughter. I went looking for her.”
“Oh, you dog.”
At least the flush that hit his cheeks was warming. “Nothing like that. She went missing in the rain.”
“She okay?” He could hear the concern in Nick’s voice.
“Found her unharmed. Nothing that won’t cure. Anyway, I saw… Remember those three guys the other day?”
“The identical ones?”
“Yeah. Well I saw them wandering about. I know there’s no law about walking around in the rain…” He smiled weakly as he said it. “But it’s suspicious. I got a bead on where they were going, managed to find this place. They looked like they might be armed.”
“Those big bags? That wound that killed that guy upstairs, what would you say that was? Looks too big to be a sidearm wound. My bet would be some sort of assault rifle.”
Wilsin shrugged. “Wouldn’t disagree. I didn’t look too closely.”
“Squeamish?”
He shook his head. “Hells no. But if they’re a
rmed, it’s probably best to try and find them before they do some damage.”
“Everyone’s concentrated into small areas right now,” Nick said. “We have to contain this. If they got out, opened fire into one of the hotel lobbies, they’d hurt dozens. This is what we’re trained for.”
With that, he turned and started to walk down the tunnel. Wilsin sighed, the words about waiting for backup dying in his throat. He was right, of course. If the numbers were overwhelming, they could always do that. If there were only the three of them, he and Nick could take them surely.
“Maybe we can end this without violence,” he said thoughtfully. He genuinely hoped that would be the case. Nick was right. And gathering local law enforcement together to deal with it would take too long… This had the potential to be a real mess and he wasn’t looking forward to it.
“First time for everything,” Nick said, taking something out of his pack. Within moments, he had the glasses on his face, staring down at the ground. Wilsin knew what they were; he had a pair back in his hotel room. Infrared glasses. Clever. He hadn’t expected he’d need them. In hindsight, he wouldn’t have guessed he’d need his X7 either. Lucky break there.
“You came prepared,” he said lightly. “You see anything?”
Nick said nothing, running his gaze up and down the corridor. If there were any footprints here, he’d have them spotted in no time. They could follow them straight to the source. Brilliant.
“Nick?”
“Yeah,” he said, lifting his head up and pointing straight on. “They went that way. There’s a lot of them.”
“Our bad guys?”
“The freshest are all wearing the same boots. Some of them overlap so it’s hard to say exactly. More than three pairs, I’d say.”
“How many of them?”
“At least six, as many as ten.”
“Ten against one? You were feeling brave when you set out on this.”
“Now it’s ten against two. The odds are never as good as you want them to be. You’re good to volunteer.”
“Reckon they’ll cooperate?”
“Would you? They looked trained. That could work either way. Depends if they’re mercenaries or idealists.”
Wilsin knew he had a point there. If they were fighting for a belief, they’d likely go to the death, especially if some nutter had promised them something in the afterlife. Couple of hundred virgins or a few more sluts and all that stuff. If they were being paid, well they knew the risks, all of them would kill but very few were willing to die for some faceless individual who didn’t have the balls to do it themselves.
Ahead of them a door awaited and Nick pointed to it. “Through there.”
Nick looked at it and then at Wilsin. They could both here it. Voices. At least two, maybe more.”
“Think we should tell Noorland to make us up some x-ray glasses at some point to add to these?” Nick quipped, removing his glasses and tucking them onto his shirt. He knelt, examined the door. It was made of some heavy looking metal, slightly rusted. The keyhole was small and dark but it wouldn’t be a factor. With it slightly ajar, just from the right angle…
Nick leaned right. Wilsin rested against the left, just enough to see inside. The voices were muffled, but noticeable. Just loud enough to mark them as close. Were they close enough to take them down without much fuss? He could see in, saw three of them. Gestured to Nick with his fingers. Three of them. He banged the knuckles of his left hand four times. He could see them. They were wearing dark uniforms, no badges or logos of any kind. By the looks of it, none were the triplets from the streets. Four bumps. Take at least four seconds to get to them on foot.
A shot from an X7 would take a lot less than that to land though. Split second to aim, fire and aim again. They could do it. They’d have to be good. But not exceptional right now. Hitting stationary targets stood up was easier than getting into a firefight. Get it right, they’d be able to take two down with the right shots as they went in. Third one might be tricky. Hopefully his reactions would be slow.
Two against three were better odds than two versus ten. The latter would leave them needing a miracle to survive, never mind win despite what Nick insisted on pushing.
Nick held his hand up, taking it from his weapon. He pointed to Wilsin, pointed left. He pointed at himself, pointed right. You go left, I’ll go right, we’ll meet in the middle. Wilsin nodded. He understood. Next, he held up three fingers. Wilsin got the message. Took a deep breath.
He put one finger down. Two.
Another breath. Nick exhaled as well. He checked the room again. Still no reaction from the guys inside. They weren’t prepared.
He put a second finger down. One.
Wilsin’s weapon felt slippery in his hand. The rain, he told himself. He gripped it tighter. Tried not to think about what’d happen if his aim wasn’t true. That way lead to no rewards.
No fingers left. Go time!
The door was stiff but Nick booted it hard, it came back off the wall with a crash, one almost drowned out by the first shot as the X7 fired, struck the guy on the right in the throat. He wasn’t packing a shield, it went through him as if he hadn’t been there, just one already cauterised hole in his neck. He didn’t even bleed as he died.
Wilsin didn’t think as he fired his own weapon, aimed and shot, the realisation only swept in as the guy on the left went down, a gaping wound in his stomach, the shock already doing for him. He’d just killed him! Dead. Snuffed him out.
No time to contemplate, the third guy was already dropping to his knees, a table between the three of them. He wasn’t fast enough, both X7’s reported at the same time and not even his nearest and dearest would have recognised the man who hit the ground, his face almost gone completely.
They both swept into the room, sweeping all corners to check that they were alone. Another dark uniformed man, a Burykian by the looks of it rose to his feet, his hand dropping to a weapon and Wilsin let him have three shots to the chest. The first shunked off his shield, the second and third punched through and dropped him to a writhing heap. Fourth shot finished him off, Wilsin knew he shouldn’t have the moment his finger closed on the trigger. Still Nick didn’t seem like the type to call him on it. Officially they were supposed to try and take people alive for interrogation. He didn’t want to get shot in the back. It was realism. Still, didn’t mean he couldn’t feel a little twinge of regret.
“Clear!” Nick said, lowering his weapon. Already he’d scooped up one of the fallen weapons and was running a check on it, a bulky assault rifle with a long thin barrel. “Hey, a Broxtie. Love these things.”
“Not your average gun for hire then,” Wilsin said, picking up one of his own from the guy he’d dropped. “Bit expensive, aren’t they?” BRO-60’s were high class assault weapons, only the very best used them. Which these four certainly hadn’t been. Unisco didn’t even use the weapon, preferring the much more cost-effective Featherstone.
“Yeah but you get what you pay for,” Nick said, sounding like he was almost ready to salivate over the weapon. “Best follow up ever. I hated the BRO-50. These though, I wish we’d gotten the green light to use these on official missions.”
“Noorland said they weren’t as good as the Featherstone.”
“In this case, Al doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Nick said hotly. “The Featherstone is no use against good quality shields. It takes half a power pack just to burn through one. You could murder anything with one of these. Anyway, where were we?”
A quick search through the room had turned up nothing of interest, though a search of the fallen combatants had turned up several new power packs for the weapons which they’d split between them. With three ways out, they’d been spoilt for choice on where to go next. By the looks of it, the dead men had been playing Ruin. Nick plucked up a hundred credits token and slipped it in his pocket, shrugging as he did.
“We need this much firepower to finish the rest of them off, it’ll be overkill,�
� Wilsin said. “I don’t see those three guys here anywhere.” They both had fired up their personal shields while they were at it. It had been asking for trouble to go this far without them really. So far, they’d gotten lucky.
“So at least them left,” Nick said. “Maybe six of them. See, not so hard.”
“I so know that’s going to come back and bite us,” Wilsin muttered. “It won’t take six of them to kill us if we go in cocky.”
Nick nodded. “That’s why I didn’t say easy.” He consulted his glasses again, checked the three doors to see which way to go. “Most footprints converge on that one.” He pointed left. “I think we should go that way.”
“Straight into the snake pit,” Wilsin grimaced. “Still not the worst thing I’ve ever had to do in the name of Unisco.”
“Same,” Nick grinned, clapping him on the back. “Come on, we’re getting close.”
Through the door they went into yet one more identical corridor, the stink hitting Wilsin as they entered. He audibly gagged, only a split second before Nick did the same.
“What the hells is that?” he choked.
“Must be near the sewage,” Nick said. “Although, there’s something about it…” He tailed off thoughtfully, tracing out the path in front of him with his eyes.
“I take it back,” Wilsin said. “If we need to wade through the shit of a hundred thousand people, it is the worst thing I’ve ever been on. These are new shoes, man.”
“Relax, probably not have to go anywhere near the shit stream,” Nick said. “Don’t worry about it.” He pointed out in front of them, gesturing left. “Four sets of footprints going that way. Hey, we’re getting closer. And there’s not as many of them as we thought. Dave?”
“Yeah?”
“Do me a favour if I get killed in action here.”
Wilsin sighed. Here they went… “Okay, if I’m honouring your last requests, you best do me one in return. If I die here, make sure I’m returned home and buried in the family plot out in the Wilsin traditional family home.”
