This time I didn’t hesitate.
Engage combat level three.
I sprang into the air and over the hole out of which the attackers were pouring. As I did so, I got a better look at the creatures and recognized them: Greenskins! That meant there were likely to be sorcerers nearby.
I hit the ground in the middle of the Greenskin front line and grabbed the closest one. They were about half my size and less than a third of my weight, which made them great for throwing. I pitched the one in my hands at a group scaling a barricade with wounded men behind it.
I didn’t have time to watch and see if the thrown Greenskin was effective at breaking the charge, as the ones around me charged as a single mass. I leapt again, clearing their front line and landing near a fallen officer. I picked up his assault rifle, positioned myself between the charging Greenskins and the retreating defenders, and then opened fire on the line of attackers.
There were far too many to stop, even with my enhanced speed, but I hoped to buy time for the defenders to fall back to a defendable position. I could feel the rifle warming up in my hands as it struggled to keep up with the rate of fire I was laying down. I knew exactly how fast the manuals said it could safely fire, and pushed it beyond that limit.
The power cells were down to twenty percent when supporting fire started coming from behind me.
Finally.
I abandoned my advanced position and ran towards the defenders. They focused their fire around me as I ran, keeping the Greenskins back and giving me enough time to vault a barricade and slide to a stop. Knowing that a primitive would be winded after such exertion, I fell against the wall and changed my breathing patterns to mimic someone desperately trying to catch their breath.
One of the commanders came over with a canteen. “Here, drink.”
Over his head floated the name Sergeant Johnson. A quick inquiry reported back that he was in charge of the defenses in this sector. He was a veteran of several wars, and had been at this post for the past fifteen years. No family, and his psychological profile suggested he was not much interested in changing that.
I took the canteen and gulped down some water while slowly allowing my body to mimic catching my breath.
“Thanks,” I said.
He looked down at my overalls with a questioning glance.
“Commander Mikale, Imperial Security Forces,” I said, guessing what he was wondering.
“Imperial? You’re a long way from home, commander,” he said. He was wearing the tactical goggles that were standard issue to security forces, so he could easily upload my face to datanet and verify my identity.
“Supposed to be a vacation, of sorts,” I said.
He looked back over the defensive line. “Could have picked a better time to visit, then.”
I followed his gaze and saw that most of the men were no longer firing. They were taking the time to service their weapons, tend wounds and perform other tasks that seemed inappropriate for the firefight that I had just left.
“They’ll try another sector now, so you can rest here,” he said and started to leave.
“Are they giving up?”
“No, but they move around the city looking for weak points. We, or more accurately you, seem to have convinced them that this wasn’t one. Stay here; it’s not safe for anyone to be out tonight, not even in numbers.”
I had no intention of camping out with this squad for the night, but I needed power packs for my newly-acquired rifle and more importantly, I needed information which these men likely had.
Staying low in case the Greenskins decided to try this sector again, I moved through the squad until I found their supplies. I grabbed several power packs and slipped them in my pockets. I replaced the spent one in the gun with a new one, and moved towards the front line.
None of the defenders were firing, and when I peeped over the barricade I could see no living Greenskins. There were bodies piled up everywhere, but none of them moved.
Sergeant Johnson came up beside me and offered me some rations.
“Thanks,” I said as I took the rations. After another look over the wall, I turned and sat down with my back to what had been the front lines. “This happen often?”
“Yearly, sometimes twice a year,” he said.
“A predictable pattern, then?”
“No, but we have a diviner back at headquarters who can normally predict the next incursion,” he said.
“Where is the sorcerer?” I asked.
“There is none. These Greenskins seem to be operating on their own,” he replied.
“Odd,” I commented. I started pulling in reports from datanet, no longer worried about exposing my position.
“Odd indeed. Want to tell me what you were doing walking around an active warzone after curfew?” he asked. There was a threat in his voice that I did not appreciate.
I locked eyes with him. “Sergeant Johnson, I do not report to you.”
He held my gaze. “Not really on vacation, then.”
“Incoming!” someone yelled before I could respond.
I spun in time to see one of those purple grenades flying towards us. As men dove for cover, I spun and shot it out of the air. Oddly, it did not explode when the supercharged particles from my assault rifle struck it; instead it shattered and some kind of liquid was released but quickly evaporated.
A potion! I should have recognized that sooner.
15
02-16-0065 - Lyshell
After the potion was destroyed we all moved back onto the barricades expecting a rush, but none came. Over datanet a report came in that one of the sections was about to fall. I looked at the sergeant and said, “Can’t stay.”
“You think you can make it?” he asked.
“It’s only a couple kilometers. I can get there before they fall,” I said.
Chance of mission success sixty-seven percent, my internal nanny helpfully provided.
He tossed me a sling with grenades and a few more power packs for my assault rifle. “Good luck.”
I nodded and sprang over the wall, no longer caring if they saw how fast I was.
The reports I had downloaded said that if the Greenskins broke through a line, they would turn on the civilian housing only after ripping every soldier limb from limb.
With two great leaps, I cleared the debris and corpses that had piled up from the assault and plotted the fastest path through the city. A group of Greenskins started coming out of the ground directly in my path. I didn’t even slow my charge but plowed right through them, my greater mass, size and speed knocking them sideways.
Faster!
“Sector Seven-Five-Alpha, hold tight; help is en route. ETA forty-seven seconds,” I said over the comm.
“Who is out of position?” came a demanding voice.
“ETA thirty-eight seconds,” was my response.
“This is Central Command, who has left their position?” the voice asked again.
I ignored it. I could hear the firefight now. I could hear men scream and die.
Engage maximum combat mode. My body crackled with energy as I turned the final corner and rushed into the back of the Greenskin line. With one hand I was firing my assault rifle, and the other held my standard service-issue hand gun. Each hand was being guided by a separate targeting computer system. Every shot hit and killed a target, and my body drove through the line.
As the Greenskin line became too thick to barrel through I leapt into the air, clearing their line with both my hands continuing to fire.
“ETA four seconds,” I said as I reached the apex of my jump.
The comm. was alive with questions I didn’t have time to process. All my systems were focused completely on the battle. Language processing, pain, emotion and every nonessential system was shut down to provide every possible resource for my combat systems.
I came down between the beleaguered line of defenders and the Greenskins. As I landed I holstered my spent handgun and started throwing grenades
into the line of attackers. Someone threw me another gun, and I quickly caught it and started firing. Both hands now wielded assault rifles and were firing them well beyond their safe rating.
One of the rifles started to overheat, so I tossed it behind me and used just the one until another rifle was thrown my way, and yet the Greenskins kept coming. Another rifle overheated, tossed and replaced; then another. I just kept shooting. Greenskins fell before me in vast numbers but the rest pressed on without fear. They were simple creatures but fearless warriors and I paid grudging respect to them. Many trained warriors would have quaked in fear and fallen back from my attack, but these Greenskins knew the simple truth that it was only a matter of time before their vastly superior numbers overran my position. So they pressed the attack, often using the piles of corpses as cover for their approach.
The attack stopped. I lowered my guns and scanned the battlefield in front of me, but found no moving targets.
Engage combat level two.
Warning: primary power supply depleted. Warning: reserve power at ten percent. Warning: system damage, region leg, thirty-six percent disabled…
Warnings scrolled by as I fell back against the barricade.
“He’s down!” someone called out.
Two men jumped over the wall and pulled me back behind it.
I took the canteen of water they offered and drained it.
Engage emergency operation mode.
Engage power preservation mode one.
A medic ran up to me. “Sir?”
“System status yellow,” I said without meaning to. “Ugh,” I added quickly. “Not really a robot.”
He chuckled. “It’s okay. Just relax.” He pulled out some kind of device and held it up to me. I should have recognized it, but most of my memory core was shut down to prevent data loss due to power failure.
He smiled. “You’re within combat damage tolerances.”
“That sounds very reassuring.”
“We need to get you to the infirmary and hook you up to a regeneration station, but you’ll be fine. Engage maintenance mode now.”
That was roughly the equivalent of telling me to take a nap. “Ah, no. Not out here.”
“Sun will be up soon; the Greenskins have already retreated. You’ll be fine. Engage maintenance mode. Field Medic Authorization Delta … ”
I heard no more as my systems accepted his orders and shut me down.
16
02-18-0065 - Henrick
Henrick sat at his desk with a spread of holographic displays before him. Each showed a different region of space labeled in an arcane language. Each display had many indicators flashing, as if each one were calling out for him to ignore the others and pay attention to it alone. The walls around him projected similar images, all bidding for his attention.
Henrick ignored them all and stared into space. His eyes were unfocused and he didn’t seem to be breathing. The various displays spread out around him made him appear like a god of old, sitting on a pedestal looking over creation, bored and uninterested.
He slowly stood up and waved his hand, dismissing the flashing displays. They dissolved into nothing, some giving one last flash of light like a cry for mercy before being dismissed. He smoothed the wrinkles out of his suit and turned to face the door.
“Come,” said Henrick.
The door to the office opened to reveal Curetes. He was dressed in metallic body armor that seemed to flow with him as he walked. It was impossible to tell where his body ended and the armor began, giving the impression that the armor might actually be part of his body, a shiny exoskeleton of metal. His piercing steel-gray eyes took in everything as he approached and stood before Henrick’s desk.
“Report,” said Henrick.
“The Sac’a’rith gate is still there, just as you expected. Raquel has completely disabled it in some way, but there is still power in it.”
“Excellent; that means she will be back for it.”
“The Phareon government dropped enough ordnance on that location to pound a crater several meters deep and many more wide. The ship itself was reduced to shrapnel. How did the gate survive?”
“That gate is old, older than Raquel herself. It dates from a time when magic turned mere mortals into gods and demons. I doubt if even Grandmaster Vydor could break that gate,” he said.
“Are we not gods now?”
Henrick laughed. It was a joyless laugh, one that sent a shiver down your back and spoke of darkness and pain. “We are still a mere shadow of what we can become, and our dear friend Raquel holds one of the keys to get us there.”
Curetes nodded. “Then shall we retrieve the gate?”
“No, that would be unwise. Our peace with the wizards is tenuous at best, and war with them at this time would delay my plans unnecessarily.” He paused there, as if considering whether the delay would be worth it. “No, things will flow smoother if we honor the uneasy peace for the moment.”
“Very well,” said Curetes.
“Raquel knows the gate is fine, and when she thinks it safe she will retrieve it. For now, we will just wait and watch.”
“Why is she working with them? Isn’t she a sorceress?”
“She is confused. She doesn’t understand our time and has simply allied herself to the most powerful friendly force she could find.”
Curetes smiled. “I fear your habit of staying in the shadows got in the way of claiming her as a recruit.”
“My dear Curetes, how little you understand of the game even after all this time. Raquel will join us, but not for some time yet. First she must feel she has repaid her debts, and when she comes she will have an army under her.”
“The Sac’a’rith?”
Henrick smiled a smile that could freeze the blood of the greatest hero. “Yes. Then we will have the gate and the means to use it. That is the key we need to unlock the powers of old.”
17
02-19-0065 - Lyshell
Memory Core online.
System Diagnostics running.
System within operational parameters.
Central Processing online.
Engage duty mode.
Reviving organic components.
A flood of energy poured through my veins, waking me up from the coma that was maintenance mode, forcing an involuntary sharp inhalation and causing my whole body to jerk.
All systems online.
A quick scan of my diagnostic logs told me that I had been out for three days while a military regeneration station repaired my implants and regrew my organic parts. I disconnected myself from the station and linked into datanet in order to get my bearings.
“Good morning, Commander,” came the voice of the medic that had shut me down.
Over his head floated the name Samuel Gould. He was a senior field medic nearing the end of his career. Married with five children, fifteen grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. Flawless service record. Decorated nine times for bravery.
“Thanks, doctor,” I said. I was annoyed that he’d shut me down, but had to admit it was the right thing to do at the time. It was troubling to know that, despite all my strength and speed, a random field medic could shut me down at will. Logically I understood the need, but that didn’t mean I liked it.
“System status green, then?” he asked with a smile.
“Something like that. I trust you saw the security classifications on my implants?”
“Of course. Not that it matters; you pretty much leveled the Greenskin army by yourself.”
So much for keeping a low profile.
He gestured to a steel cabinet. “You’ll find your weapons and other belongings in there.”
“Thanks,” I said and headed over. In the cabinet, I saw the power packs and assault rifle that I had scavenged as well as my personal weapons. They had obviously assumed they were all mine. I decided not to argue the point, slung the rifle over my back and stowed the rest of the gear in my coveralls.
“Central Com
mand wants to speak with you. They don’t seem too happy,” said Samuel.
“Good thing I don’t report to them, then,” I said.
“I don’t think they’ll see it that way. You’re on their planet,” he said.
I nodded. “I’ll deal with them. How long till the next Greenskin attack?”
He consulted a terminal. “Looks like a few months.”
“I hope to be long gone by then,” I said.
“What’s the matter? Not digging the local wildlife?”
I shook my head. “Thank you for your help, but I have a mission to complete and I must get on with it.”
As I headed out the door he placed a hand on my shoulder. “You really should report in to Central Command.”
He was right, but I didn’t want to be bothered. “I will.”
I continued out the door and off the base. I would report in, but only when I was clear of the base. If they got mad and decided to detain me they would have to find me first, and I’d make sure that was not possible. Realistically, nothing would come of it. If they pushed their complaint, I would just pass it on to my command and someone would deal with it.
It took a bit of doing, but I was able to get back into my rich businessman disguise and into my hotel room without drawing any attention to myself. After securing the room, I laid down on my bed to think. The night spent as Commander Mikale had stirred up some memories that I wasn’t sure I was supposed to have. Something about me was off kilter.
I fired off a standard post-action report to the local central command, with a notation on it to contact my superiors back on the capital planet if they needed anything else. Then I began to watch the news, starting with the day I’d met that little girl on the train until now. There were a lot of news reports about me, far more than I would have guessed. It seemed that I was extremely good for ratings. I smiled at the thought of a reporter trying to blacken the police force by broadcasting all the good deeds I had done over the years.
Mage Hunter (Lost Tales of Power Book 8) Page 8
