The shrill blast of the departing supply train’s whistle sent new waves of pain through his skull, cutting through the fog of random sensations assailing his brain. He clutched his hands over his ears until the sound subsided.
Frantic soldiers and technicians called out all around him. Through the muddled din, he picked out one familiar voice - Temujin’s. Slowly, Sam remembered where he was. He remembered the mission, and the innocents who would be caught in the crossfire in order to destroy his enemies.
He furrowed his brow.
Whose enemies?
The terrible hate he had always felt for his brothers was gone, replaced by deep, heart-wrenching sorrow. When he looked up, his eyes were filled with the most intense hatred he had ever known, but not for his brothers or for Alexander.
For Temujin.
As he glared at the warlord, he realized the terrible mistake he had made. He had allowed his programming to manipulate him into handing a madman the power to destroy billions of lives. But no longer. Sam realized he was unique; he was the first of his kind. Out of millions of Replodian mercenaries who had come and gone before him over the millennia, he was the first to have the gift of free will. Sam had a choice.
And he made it.
A technician rushed to his side and touched his shoulder, recoiling as the intense heat radiating from the Replodian burned his fingertips. Without so much as a glance, Sam threw the man aside with a swipe of his arm, sending the man sailing into a stack of crates several yards away.
The Replodian rose to his feet, his fists clenched so that his fingernails dug deep into his palms. Hot, yellow blood dripped onto the filthy cement floor, sending tiny billows of steam into the frigid air.
“Khan!” he roared.
*****
The alien’s change in demeanor did not go unnoticed by the Khan. Its rage was almost tangible, suffocating. The air became thick with it. For the first time in his life, Temujin was afraid.
“Onto the ship,” he said.
Chuluun turned. “My lord?”
“Onto the ship,” the Khan repeated more urgently. “Now! Get us in the air.”
Chuluun obediently followed Temujin onto the bridge of the Ragnarok. The alien leapt onto the boarding platform and ran down the ramp toward the door, which slammed shut just before he could reach it. He crashed into it and pounded his fists against the armored shell, screaming as loud as his parched throat would allow.
*****
“Temujin!” Sam bellowed. “Open this door!”
The Khan’s voice rang out over the hangar’s P.A. system, “I can’t do that, my friend. I don’t know what has come over you all of a sudden, but I cannot allow you to stand in my way.”
“You son-of-a-bitch,” yelled Sam. “They’re only children! Leave them out of this.”
“How does the old saying go?” The smile in Temujin’s voice was quite apparent. “Oh, yes. One cannot make an omelet without breaking some eggs.”
“No!” Sam screamed. “You can’t!”
“Goodbye, Samrai.”
The warlord’s words were punctuated by the transport’s engines igniting. As the Ragnarok lifted off the ground, Sam clung to the guardrail to avoid being blown back by the thrusters. He watched, helpless, as the ship cleared the dock.
Sam watched, helpless, as the Ragnarok rose out of the building and disappeared into the low bank of clouds drifting over the temple. He turned, sprinted down the platform, and shoved a sentry aside as he burst through the exit into the corridor. Someone had to stop Temujin, and he knew just who could do it, but first he had to warn them… and collect something from his lab.
*****
In the communications room, Captain Sukh’s hand moved to the pommel of his sword as he watched the alien flee the hangar on the monitor. The Ragnarok lifted to safety, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Lord Temujin was out of danger.
The Khan’s voice came over the radio, “Captain Sukh.”
Sukh keyed the communicator while tracking the alien’s progress through the base on the row of monitors. “I am here, my Khan.”
“The alien is no longer of any use to me. Destroy it.”
Sukh smiled. “Yes, my Khan. It shall be done.”
“Do not fail me, Captain.”
Sukh watched the alien turn into the north wing. There was only one place it would go.
“Have my elite guard meet me at the alien’s laboratory,” he ordered one of the communications officers. “Fully armed.”
“Yes, sir!”
*****
Sam stepped through the door to his laboratory and scanned the room, making a quick mental inventory of its contents. He grabbed two pistols, one plasma and one gel, and stuffed them into his belt. Next, he collected a plasma rifle from a wall rack and checked the magazine. Full charge. He slipped the rifle’s shoulder strap over his head and collected several grenades from a nearby bin.
As he turned to leave, his eyes fell on the main worktable. He slowly approached the silver prototype helmet and brushed his fingers against the cold, unfinished metal. Temujin could never be allowed to possess these weapons.
Never.
He crossed the room and rummaged through the clutter underneath a workbench until his fingers closed around an oversized canvas duffel bag. He opened a cabinet door beside the weapons rack and six helmets identical to the one on the table stared back at him, their black visors lifeless and sinister, just as he’d designed them. One by one, he shoved the helmets into the bag, finally collecting the prototype on the table and shoving it into the bag as well.
He slung the bag over his shoulder and walked toward the exit. Just as he approached the doors, they slid open and he came face to face with Captain Sukh and his elite guard.
The captain smiled. “I’ve waited a long time for this, freak.”
Sam took a step back and adopted a defensive posture.
“Kill him,” barked Sukh, moving out of the way of the troops behind him.
Immediately the air was filled with bursts from both plasma and double-barreled corrosive gel rifles. Sam jumped above the blasts, drawing the plasma pistol from his belt and firing on the advancing troops, but the bolts bounced off the soldiers’ armor. Sam fired into a rack of gel rifles and the weapons exploded, spraying a few of the soldiers with lava-hot purple gel that burned slowly through their armor and melted their flesh like marshmallows to a flame.
He bolted to the left, pelting the soldiers with plasma fire as he ran, and slid behind a barrel. Enemy fire shredded the barrel as he scanned the room, looking for any means of escape. His eyes came to rest on the grenade bin, and he remembered the ones stashed in his pocket. Sam grabbed the bin and flung it into the center of the room, spilling grenades across the floor.
He dug in his pocket for a single grenade and popped the top off with his thumb. “Hey! Captain Suck!”
Sukh looked up in horror at the alien’s hand. “Stop him!”
“Let’s play a little game.” Sam thumbed the primer plunger and tossed it into the cluster on the floor. “One of these things is not like the others.”
“Get out!” Sukh dove into the hallway.
Sam jumped onto a worktable and ran across it, bypassing the scrambling Horde troopers, and leapt over their heads toward the open doorway. The grenade exploded, triggering a chain of explosions. Sam cleared the door just as the resulting fireball reached it and slammed into the opposite wall. He cringed at the sound of screams from within as the fire from dozens of weapons exploding engulfed the room.
Sam stood and turned to see Sukh staring back at him, the right side of his face badly burnt and his sword drawn.
“Don’t try it, Sukh,” Sam warned.
Sukh rushed forward to strike, but the corridor was rocked by another explosion from inside the lab, and the supports holding up the rough stone ceiling began to buckle. Sam aimed his pistol at the support beam and fired, causing it to snap under the strain of its burden. Sukh and Sam dove for safety as
the ceiling collapsed between them, raining down chunks of steel and stone.
Sam took advantage of the diversion and turned to run toward the nearest emergency exit. Shaken but unharmed, Sukh climbed to his feet and keyed his communicator.
“This is Sukh,” he yelled over the deafening fire alarm that was now blaring throughout the temple. “Deploy the Death Walkers to destroy the alien.”
“How many, sir?”
“All of them, you fool,” Sukh roared. “Do it now!”
*****
Sam climbed the ladder to the emergency hatch and pulled the release lever. Tiny charges detonated around the circular opening, and the cover flew off in a shower of sparks. He crawled out of the smoking hole and found himself standing in the middle of a derelict airstrip. He pulled his jacket tight against his body, his teeth chattering from the below-freezing temperatures, and looked around for any means of transportation; a car, a truck, a damned bicycle—anything!
“The train,” he breathed. “Train, train, train. Where’s the goddamned train?”
A door set into the front of one of the hangars lining the runway split open. As the sunlight poured inside, twelve Death Walkers jerked awake, their postures straightening, and lumbered toward him.
Sam's shoulders slumped. “Oh, balls.”
The mechs homed in on his voice and scanned him. Sam felt his heart jump into his throat when the lead mech raised its arms and trained the twin guns on him. The cannons spun, spewing fifty rounds per second while Sam flipped nimbly out of the line of fire, but the robot continued to track his movements. The other robots followed suit, sending plumes of sand into the air as their projectiles narrowly missed their mark.
Over the din of gunfire, Sam heard the distant sound of a whistle. The train was already nearly half a mile away, but it was his only chance. Sam turned his back on his deadly creations and ran northward into the Gobi Desert.
The robots stopped firing to pursue their prey. Powerful, clawed legs propelled them over the sand and rocks with great speed as they closed in on their target. One of the mechs locked onto the Replodian and fired a shoulder-mounted rocket. It missed the mark by a mere three feet, but still threw sand and rock flying in all directions and sent Sam sprawling to the ground.
As they came within range, the mechs opened up again with the .50 cals, their barrels glowing bright orange from the heat. Sam rolled out of the way and half-crawled, half-ran toward the tracks until he was able to regain his footing. He ran parallel to the tracks, straining to catch up to the rear car.
He dug in his pocket for a grenade, the rapid rise and fall of his body making the action difficult. Finally he found one, mashed the plunger, and counted to three before chucking it over his shoulder. The grenade detonated under one of the robots’ feet, sending it teetering onto the mech beside it. It fell hard against the other’s rocket launcher and the weapon exploded, critically damaging but not neutralizing the robots.
Sam ran as hard as his legs would allow until he came right alongside the rear railcar. As the train began to slip away from him, he jumped and reached out, snagging the ladder on the back. One of the mechs swiped at him with its clawed hand, but the fingers closed on empty air as the Replodian climbed to the top. Once there, Sam primed his rifle. He sighted down the barrel at the closest mech and opened fire, sending white-hot plasma bolts through the air in a steady beat.
The plasma bounced harmlessly off of the robot’s armored shell. The mech raised its arm cannon to fire again, and Sam aimed for the barrels. As they began to spin, Sam fired a plasma bolt into the cannon, which exploded, sending shrapnel into the electronic eye. The mech’s movements became erratic, smacking into the others until another robot slapped it aside and continued the pursuit.
“Damn,” Sam said. He’d have been proud if only his creations weren’t trying to turn him into Replodian road kill.
Sam reached into the breast pocket of his coveralls and pulled out a roll of electrical tape. Placing it between his teeth, he searched for more grenades and found three. He ducked the bullets whizzing past his head and hastily lashed the grenades together with the tape, tearing off the excess length with his teeth. He plucked the safety tops off, mashed down all three plungers, counted to four, and pitched the bundle over the side of the car.
The grenades plopped onto the rocky sand just a few paces ahead of the charging robots. Sam covered his head the instant before they detonated. The railcar teetered from the force of the blast but managed to stay on its wheels. The explosion created a deep crater, and Sam laughed as the three leading mechs fell into it, kicking and flailing their metal limbs. The rest of the robots were caught in the pileup, and Sam cheered as the train steadily pulled away from them.
When he was confident that the mechs could no longer pursue him, Sam collapsed onto his back and closed his eyes, mentally preparing for the two-day journey ahead. Khan’s transport ship, while advanced, was mercifully slow.
At least he’d done something right.
As the train carried him north toward Russia, he prayed to whoever would listen that he was not too late.
Chapter Twenty
East Van Buren High School
Farmington, Iowa
October 21st
Crystal Hammond looked up from her Spanish notes and gazed across the table at Alex, who was frowning at his algebra book with his pencil poised over a notebook covered in half-erased and botched equations. She giggled as he growled and scratched out a long sequence of numbers and letters. He looked up and gave her a rueful smirk.
The room grew dark. Alex looked out the window and saw a shadow creeping over the cars in the parking lot.
Crystal groaned. “Please tell me it’s not going to rain!”
Alex looked up. Blue sky and lazily drifting white clouds filled the skylight. He shrugged.
Crystal tore her gaze away from the window. “So, have you got a date for the homecoming dance?”
Alex grinned and began to rework the equation. “I think I just might.”
“Really?” Crystal feigned indifference. “Anybody I know?”
Alex’s pencil scratched across the paper. “Oh, I don’t know.”
“Is she pretty?”
Alex nodded, still not looking up. “Gorgeous.”
“Where’s she from?”
“Salem.”
“Really?” Crystal raised an eyebrow. “What a coincidence.”
“Yup.”
“Sounds an awful lot like me,” Crystal teased.
“Kind of,” said Alex, “except this girl does my math homework for me.”
Crystal gasped and kicked his shin underneath the table. “Alex Walker!”
Alex grinned as he rubbed his leg. “You have something better to offer?”
Crystal grinned suggestively. “I might.”
“Ah.” Alex returned to his work. “Then I’ll take it into consideration.”
This earned him a kick to his other shin, and Alex laughed despite the pain.
“You’re terrible!”
Alex grinned. “But you love me.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Crystal leaned in close and smiled. “I’ll have to take it into consideration.”
“Oh ho,” said Alex. “So that’s how it is?”
“Yep. That’s how it is.”
“Walker! Hammond!” barked Ms. Fremont, the study hall monitor. “You two lovebirds knock it off over there.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” said Crystal.
Alex muttered under his breath as he began to doodle in the margins of his notebook.
“She’s just jealous,” whispered Crystal.
“Yeah,” said Alex. “Dinosaurs went extinct sixty-five million years ago and she hasn’t been able to find a date since.”
Crystal giggled, and then after a moment of silence sighed. “I’m bored.”
“Gee,” said Alex as he sketched an angry-looking Ms. Fremont. “Now I really do feel loved.”
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“Not like that, silly.” Crystal slapped him playfully on the arm. “I just wish something would happen.”
Alex added Stegosaurus back plates to his doodle of Ms. Fremont and murmured, “Like what?”
“I don’t know,” said Crystal. “Something. Anything. Nothing ever happens around here.”
At that moment, the cafeteria doors were violently thrown open, and a squad of more than thirty armed Horde troopers surged into the room and surrounded the students. A group of students at the far end of the room attempted to escape through the other door, but found the hallway filled with more soldiers. The troopers raised their weapons, particularly nasty alien-looking rifles, and the teens cowered in their seats and under tables.
Ms. Fremont tried to protest, but one of the soldiers fired his double-barreled rifle at her face and she fell to the floor screaming as smoking purple gel covered her head. The students closest to the action screamed in terror and pushed back into the crowd, away from the body. Through a gap in the crowd, Alex could see Ms. Fremont, still kicking as the flesh melted and fell off her exposed skull. Crystal screamed and buried her face in his shoulder.
A large bald man entered the room from the hall and shouted something in Mongolian at the soldier who had shot Ms. Fremont. Alex struggled to hear them over the shouting and whimpering of the other students, but he did catch one word that the large man said.
Alive.
As part of his training in the TDC, Alex underwent extensive language training in many Asian dialects, but still had problems with some of the bigger words. He cursed himself for leaving his translation ear bud in his locker; it had remained there ever since the time Lamont scolded him for using it to cheat in Spanish class. The meaning of the exchange was instantly cleared up, however, when the troops began ushering the panic-stricken students down the hall toward the gymnasium.
Along the way, Alex saw other groups of students being ejected from their classrooms by more gunmen. Mr. Gibson, the algebra teacher, tried to play hero and got a rifle butt to the teeth for his trouble. Alex started to step out of line to help him, but Crystal grabbed him by the arm and stared pleadingly at him with tear-filled eyes. One of the Hordesmen shoved them forward with his rifle, and Alex stared at the floor as he walked, trying not to look at the group of soldiers mercilessly kicking the downed teacher. Slowly, so as not to attract attention to himself, Alex pressed the small red button on the side of his wristwatch.
Birthright: Book I of the Temujin Saga Page 15
