by S. A. Lusher
Something landed a few feet away.
Reacting on instinct, Enzo threw himself towards the nearest door. A second later, the grenade went off, filling the area with heat and metal fragments. He barely managed to get behind another table, hidden from the worst of the blast. Knowing there was no time to lose, Enzo primed and tossed one of his own grenades, a flash-bang. The second it went off, he was up and running towards the exit. Bullets exploded into existence, peppering his position. He hit the access button as soon as he reached the door and went through, locking it down behind him, then kept running. Okay, so Fielding hadn't been bluffing, she sent someone that was pretty good.
Fine, he could deal with that.
Probably.
Enzo turned a corner, preparing to head for the support staff dormitories, and let out an involuntary scream as he nearly stepped right into the waiting arms of an Ire. It let out a brutal roar as it took a swing at him. He stepped back and heard another sound behind him. Spinning, he saw yet another Ire further down the corridor. Giving up his shortest route path for now, he turned and sprinted into the scientific dormitories wing.
The Ires roared and gave chase. About that time, he heard a door open, followed by gunfire and another powerful roar. Well, at least he'd run into some trouble as well. Enzo kept running, keeping his head down. He'd come to the scientists' dormitories, which basically meant he'd come to a maze. The interconnecting corridors all looked the same, dozens of doors lining the walls. Nothing but corridors and crossroads.
Enzo sighed. Now what?
Behind him, the gunfire had fallen away, though he could hear heavy footfalls. He looked down at the rifle in his hands. Perhaps he'd have to deal with this personally. Wasn't that how it always went? 'Fuck it, I'll do it myself.' He headed down the nearest corridor, for now just trying to get away from the three hostiles so he could come up with some kind of plan. He took a left, then a right, then hurried down that corridor.
The sounds of the others had almost completely dissipated. Taking another turn, Enzo took a moment to try and figure out where he was. He'd managed to catch a few of the names, who lived where, as he looked over the map, trying to use them as placeholders. None of these seemed familiar. He walked down another corridor, listening for the others. The Ires were somewhere within the warren of hallways. Contemporary minotaurs for this maze. The Dark Ops jackass, on the other hand...he couldn't get a feel for where the guy was.
Enzo took a moment to reload, then kept walking, rifle tucked into his shoulder, finger on the trigger. He'd done a dozen jobs like this before, two dozen, maybe even three. Hunting down someone that didn't want to be found could, when the person had been pushed far enough, turn around, and then it's you being hunted. He'd also had bad guys out for his blood before, though it was usually alleys and colony streets and not underground top secret installations. A sound came to him, then, and Enzo spun around, looking down an empty corridor.
He turned again, then let out a surprised sound as a bullet hit him in his false arm. The trooper stood right there, at the next junction. Enzo opened fire and decided to go on the offensive, this needed to end now. The trooper seemed taken aback by this and hesitated just long enough for Enzo to cross the distance, leap forward and punch the man's rifle from his grasp. That was all Enzo got, though, as the trooper regained the initiative by socking Enzo directly in the face. Pain rocketed through his skull, momentarily blinding him, and he stumbled back a few steps. He tried to bring his rifle up, but it was smashed aside.
As he regained his senses, Enzo took a step back, fists raised, ready for another attack. But it didn't come. His eyes cleared and he saw that the assassin wasn't looking at him. The man was looking to the left. Enzo flicked his gaze left and saw that one of the Ires had found them. He heard a huff of heavy breath from his right and glanced that way. No, both of the Ires had found them. He and the assassin glanced at each other one, then both turned away to deal with their respective problems. Enzo began looking for his rifle while stepping back.
It was too late.
The Ire rushed him. In a blur of motion, it had him in its grasp, massive, meaty fingers around his waist, lifting him, piling on the pressure. Enzo groaned, beating ineffectively against its immense limbs, and he knew his internal organs didn't have long if this kept up. His mind ran through a quick list of options and then he had it. Reaching down, Enzo tore his pistol free, barely able to get at it, brought the barrel up and took aim.
He emptied the magazine into the Ire's twisted face.
Blood sprayed the thing as it roared and raged, dropping him and collapsing back onto the ground. He heard a muffled explosion and spun around, seeing that the assassin had dealt with his own Ire by way of grenade. They both looked at each other. The assassin's hands were empty, his or her face hidden behind a plate of black glass. Enzo's pistol was empty. Both of them lunged at each other in that second, ready to keep it going.
And it might have gone on for a while longer if Enzo hadn't balled up his artificial fist and punched straight through the trooper's visor. The man, it was a man, screamed once and then collapsed back onto the floor. Enzo pulled his fist free, shaking off shards of glass and blood, and reloaded his pistol. He shot the trooper twice in the head for good measure, then took a quick moment to collect his rifle and pat the corpse down. The pockets contained a few more magazines and a couple of spare grenades. Enzo policed them all up.
He took a deep breath and let it out.
Okay, that was dealt with, at least. As he finished his search, he came across a keycard that looked significant. Hopefully to end the lockout. Enzo left the trio of corpses and quickly traced his route to the security center and spent a few moments ending the lockout. He thought about what way to take up to the next level and finally decided on the emergency security hatch right there in the room. He pocketed the card, then walked over to the hatch.
Opening it up, he hauled himself into the opening and began climbing.
This day just kept getting better and better.
Chapter 14
–Liberation–
Administration was a wasteland.
Enzo had been hiding out in the security center for the past fifteen minutes, sitting in the dim white glow of the bank of flat-screen monitors assembled on the far wall. He'd locked the door and set the single window to be opaque, so no one could spy on him. He was planning his route. Unfortunately, he had no access to any kind of monitoring equipment for the level above, as it technically wasn't a part of Syberian Station.
So now he was trying to figure out how to get the hell out of Level One, which was largely just Administration, Processing and Reception. There were a lot of computer mainframes and offices up here, as well as a small living quarters complex for the bureaucrats and security personnel that needed to be on-call at all times. Enzo was studying everything that stood in between him and the exit in the Reception area.
It wasn't looking good.
Unfortunately, there were huge blind spots, as a lot of the cameras had been either damaged or outright destroyed in all the fighting. While the previous level had been nearly vacant of the Altered, this level was rife with the ugly, smelly bastards. He'd seen dozens of Mutants, Harvesters and Slugs roaming the halls, combing through the area for corpses. It seemed like they were gearing up to mount an attack or break out of the facility...or both. It made sense. Besides himself, as far as he knew, there were no living humans left in the installation.
Everyone who was still alive and functioning as a human being was above them now. There was one problem. It seemed that the only way actually out of the installation was one of two ways: ventilation shafts that ran from the bottom levels directly to the surface, the method through which they drew in fresh oxygen, or the front door. No vents, maintenance hatches, security tunnels...nothing led out otherwise. Syberian Station was, far all intents and purposes, a closed structure. Since he hadn't suffocated, he had to assume that the vent ducts were still working and thus
would be exceptionally difficult to navigate.
Enzo had briefly toyed with the plan of going all the way back down, shutting down the vents shafts and just climbing out, but decided that either A) That would be more difficult than just cutting through everyone between him and the surface here or B) Part of him really wanted to kill the jerkoffs who had stolen him. And, well, he supposed he still wanted to rescue the others. The biggest problem was that his only way up and out into the abandoned mines was presently locked down, and there seemed to be little he could do about it.
He'd briefly toyed around with the idea of blowing it open, but he didn't want to bury himself in rubble, nor was he convinced there were enough explosives left to tear a hole in the no doubt very sturdy vault-like door that served as an ingress to the facility. The Altered were getting smarter, and they seemed both diligent and thorough in their hunt to destroy anything that might be used against them. So that left him one option.
End the lockdown.
Unfortunately, that meant finding the appropriate keycard. He'd found the actual function to end the lockdown within the security station he'd crawled into, and tried the keycard the would-be assassin had had on him, but apparently it wasn't high enough. So he had to find a better one. That was what he was presently doing. He'd just managed to use his very limited knowledge of figuring shit out to activate a tracking program in the workstation. Apparently, high enough level keycards came with the ability to be tracked.
He wondered who had instituted that policy. Maybe they kept losing them or something. Enzo initiated the program and studied the result. A topographical map appeared on the screen. He frowned, studying it. All it showed him was that he was going to have to make a bit of a trek. He was at the bottom right-hand corner of the screen, the keycard he wanted was at the bottom left-hand corner of the screen, and the way out was smack dab in the middle of the top of the screen. A triangle, the corners of which were about as far away from each other as you could get with who knew how many lethal alien mutants in between him and his destinations.
Fantastic.
Something growled and shifted just beyond the blackened window. Enzo glanced over, grabbing his rifle. Whatever it was lingered for a moment, then moved away with heavy, plodding footfalls. He waited a little bit longer, then stood and quickly inventoried his supplies. He had two fragmentation grenades and one flash-bang, his rifle, his pistol and some ammo for each. Not exactly the choice arsenal to go up against an army of mutant freaks. He sighed heavily, replacing all the magazines, the pistol, the grenades, and stood.
Letting the rifle hang from its sling, he walked across the room over to a ventilation grate along the ground. He opened it up, got on his hands and knees and crawled in. The vents were uncomfortable and made his shoulder hurt, but he supposed they gave him a better chance of survival than fighting tooth and nail through all the nasties. Entering the vent, Enzo closed it behind him and began crawling. He hadn't forgotten the Slugs he'd fought in the cramped confines, or the huge thing he'd encountered in the vents earlier.
Trying to push those thoughts aside, Enzo began crawling. For the most part, it was quick and easy going. He glanced through the mesh grilles as he passed them, watching scenes of horror and aftermath next to and then beneath him as he ascended so that he'd be in the ceiling. Mutant patrols and foraging Harvesters roamed in pairs and packs, hunting for flesh, live or dead. Enzo imagined that this place must be picked clean by now.
What happened when they got out into the world?
Syberia couldn't have been that populated of a world. If they put something like this beneath the dirt, he imagined it would be a sparsely occupied mining planet with a scattering of settlements sprinkled across its vast surface. Still...what if they got offworld? Out-of-system? It was possible. Likely, even. He groaned inwardly as he kept crawling. This was something he was likely going to have to deal with. In the crimson-lit ventilation shaft, surrounded by monsters, he made a deal with himself, a simple one.
He'd take care of this, but he wouldn't die for it.
Maybe taking care of the problem would give him some leverage against the government when they came after him for knowing their dirty little secret. Also...another thought popped into his mind. He'd never gotten a copy of the dirty data Eve had been downloading. So there was another good reason for springing them from Dark Ops' lair. As he thought this, the vent he was in shifted. Enzo froze. Shifting vents were never a good sign.
He swallowed nervously, then tried to keep going.
The second he did, the vent shaft broke out from beneath him, depositing him belly-first onto the ground. Groaning, the wind kicked out of him, he immediately rolled when he saw a dark figure looming over him. He rolled again when it reached for him, grabbed his rifle, aimed and fired a few three-round bursts. Something shrieked, then collapsed. Gasping for breath, Enzo struggled to his feet. He looked around.
The vent had dropped him into the middle of a main corridor. He'd made it a little over halfway to his destination. Behind him, a patrol of half a dozen Mutants. Ahead of him, just a pair. He shouldered the rifle and fired out two quick bursts into the chests of the Mutants even as he began running towards them. Behind him, a chorus of roars and a thunder of footfalls. They were coming for him. He grabbed one of his fragmentation grenades, primed it and tossed it over his shoulder as he reached the end of the hall and rushed around the corner.
A muffled explosion, followed by another cacophony of roars, this time pained and dying, were his reward. His punishment, however, was a big, burly Ire standing halfway down the hall. Enzo glanced down at his rifle. Would it be enough? All he had to do was run the length of this corridor, make a right-hand turned and he'd be where he needed to be. More growls behind him. He had to be quick about this, too.
He began rushing the Ire, firing shot after shot into its broad chest, hoping to hit something vital. The beast began lumbering towards him, issuing a roar that nearly shattered his eardrums. He kept firing, getting through half the magazine before they met halfway. Ducking, he dove and twisted, avoiding its wild swings. Landing on his back, he brought the barrel up and kept plugging away, gambling that he'd be able to finishing killing it before it turned around and stomped him directly out of existence.
It was a close call.
As his final three bullets hit home and his gun clicked empty, they finally punched through the thick skin and meat and hit something vital within. The beast began going down. Enzo barely managed to roll out of the way before it came down right on top of him. He hurried to his feet. Mutants were closing in, everything in the sector had been alerted to his presence. He began to move towards his objective, but something caught his eye. Something that he had no idea how he missed during the altercation with the Ire.
There was a hole that had been torn into the ceiling.
A huge one that led directly into rock, burrowing up and then twisting out of sight. It might have gone straight to the surface. There was likely only one thing that could have made that hole. The Alpha. Even as he wondered if any other Altered had followed the path, he spied dark movement up near the top. A Mutant, climbing up and out. He returned his gaze to the corridor. More Mutants coming for him. He began backing up and hastily reloaded. Firing as he went, blowing holes in their faces and chests, he emptied his second magazine.
As he reloaded once more, Enzo turned and ran. He needed to leave. There was likely too much to deal with on this level. He sprinted down the corridor, turned and sprinted down that corridor, coming at last to the security center. Hurrying inside, he locked the door behind him and opaqued the solitary window. He was alone once more, even if only for a little while. Moving fast, Enzo crossed the room to the workstation and began tearing the thing apart, looking for the security card. Finally, he found it in one of the drawers.
He studied it for a moment, but realized there was no way to determine if it was the right one but to put it to the test. Sitting down, he booted up the workstation and called u
p the lockdown protocol. He asked it to be lifted, the computer asked for the proper authorization. Enzo swiped the card and the computer froze for a second, then chimed pleasantly.
“Lockdown lifted,” a soft, feminine voice informed him.
“Thank God,” he muttered.
That part was finished, but that was probably the easy part. He took a moment to raid the security center, gathering up what meager supply of bullets he could locate, then found another ventilation shafted and crawled inside.
Time to get out.
* * * * *
Getting out wasn't quite as difficult as he had envisioned.
When Enzo arrived in Reception, it was nearly vacant, just a small vanguard of Mutants hanging around the massive door. He shot them all from his position in the vent, then dropped into the room after nothing else came to investigate. It seemed that the biggest contingent of the Mutants had slipped into the mines. Which was good, maybe they would cause some problems for Dark Ops. Enzo stepped through the huge door, into the partially-constructed security zone beyond. It felt good to leave Syberian Station behind him.
He checked out the security checkpoint. It looked like a derelict area of the mines, a partially-constructed workroom or a new project that had been abandoned. From the outside, the way in looked like an old, broken down entrance to what might be a collapsed tunnel. Smart. Enzo left the area, jogging down the singular tunnel leading away. As he moved further away, he began to hear the sounds of conflict. Gunfire and shouts, both human and inhuman, echoed down the rocky passageway to him. He grinned darkly.
Good. Let them deal with the monsters they'd created.
