by M. R. Forbes
Mitchell watched the boot rise from the hidden camera. Just as it reached the door, he swung out from the stall, squeezing the trigger. His bullets caught the first soldier in the faceplate just as the door slammed open, shattering the polycarbonate and coming out the other side.
He didn't hesitate, shifting his aim while the first rounds were still leaving the barrel, his p-rat giving him a clear display of the second target. He squeezed the trigger again, a burst of three rounds hitting the mercenary in the chest, punching through his body armor and knocking him down.
Mitchell ran to the soldiers, bending over one and grabbing a fresh magazine from the man's hip. He also reached for the helmet but was forced to abandon it when another pair of mercs appeared on the camera feed. He ran down the perpendicular corridor, able to see the soldiers as they gave chase.
That extra view gave him the opportunity he needed. He dropped to his knees, turning on them as he slid, facing back toward the corner. The soldiers froze there, expecting him to be ready to ambush them. They weren't expecting him to be able to see them there or to get a full, inferred outline from the smallest visibility of their rifle barrels. Mitchell emptied his magazine into the edge of the wall, his p-rat marking the hits.
He jumped to his feet, rushing back the way he had come. He made it to the mercenaries, grabbing another magazine and replacing his empty one. He then took the rest of their magazines for the tactical rifle, stuffing them into pockets in his pants. He also picked up his camera before removing one of the soldier's helmets, dropping it onto his head.
He should have known it would be secured, the end of the wearer's life causing it to shut down. If Michael were still online, he might have been able to help. He wasn't, so Mitchell ditched the headgear, his eyes coming to rest on the body armor.
It was designed similar to the powered armor he was familiar with, though as with many things it was bulkier and less refined. It was a step-in design, all of it assembled into two pieces, where the soldier would step into the back, and either another human or two, or a machine would position the front over the back and clasp it together.
The bottom line was that it meant he couldn't use it.
He moved back the way he had come, heading for the stairwell. The rest of the Blackrock squads would know what he had done, and they would be much more careful because of it. If they were smart, they would linger on the steps and work on a more strategic approach; probably drill through the ceiling somewhere to drop in on him and approach from multiple sides.
"Bulldog, Peregrine, sitrep," he said through the comm, taking up position around a corner and aiming the rifle toward the stairwell. It was clear for the moment, and would likely remain that way.
"Ares, this is Bulldog," Trevor said. "I'm coming to you, trailing the squads that took the low road. They're in the building, heading up your way."
"Negative, Bulldog," Mitchell said. "Fall back and await further orders."
"Colonel? You're all alone in there with sixteen tangos," Trevor said.
"Eleven," Mitchell corrected. "Did you get a heavier weapon outside?"
He knew Trevor was looking for a fight. He also knew about the side-effects of the enhancers Trevor was taking. He had never been in favor of drugs like that and still wasn't. At the same time, experience had taught him to balance his opinions with his tactical needs.
"Eleven?" Trevor replied, surprised. "Negative. I've got a pistol with three rounds."
"Then fall back. You can't hurt them."
"Sir, with all due respect, I-"
"Fall back, soldier," Mitchell barked as loudly as he dared. "You'll get your chance, I promise, but this isn't it, and I need you to stay alive."
The channel was silent for a moment. He didn't have to like it, but he did have to do it.
"Affirmative," Trevor said, his voice tight. "Falling back."
"Peregrine, this is Ares," Mitchell repeated. "Are you still out there?" He waited a moment. There was still no response. "Peregrine?"
17
Katherine jerked the stick of the Hornet gunship, watching as the side of a dilapidated skyscraper filled her vision before clearing off to a narrow alley as the craft rolled sideways. It shuddered in complaint at the maneuver, preferring to stay level and offer air support to ground forces, but she had no choice. Heavy slugs tore into the building behind her, fired by the pilot of the second Hornet.
"Peregrine, this is Ares. Are you still out there?" Mitchell's voice filled her ear through the comm, barely audible above the sound of the engines. "Peregrine?"
Katherine reached the end of the alley, clearing the buildings and flattening the craft out. She was at the corner of the reconstruction zone, a sea of much taller buildings quickly coming near. She knew the Blackrock pilot wouldn't risk hitting civilians, not unless they were under Watson's control. She wouldn't either, but there was no way she could retreat. Not with Mitchell stuck inside the building with nearly three full squads of unfriendlies.
She yanked the stick again, using the foot pedals to bring the Hornet about in a tight one-eighty. The other Hornet hadn't chased her out this far, preferring to sit and wait for her to return. He knew she would have to. Son of a bitch.
"Ares, this is Peregrine. Sorry for the delay. The other Hornet's been giving me a bit of trouble."
"Peregrine, I'm just happy to hear you're still out there. I thought you were a good pilot?"
"Yes, sir. Unfortunately, so is my opponent, and he can hunker down in your vicinity and ambush me whenever I try to get close."
"Affirmative. I trust you're just waiting for your moment then?"
Katherine couldn't help but smile. "Yes, sir," she replied. "No sense in kicking it too often before it becomes necessary."
"Roger that. Can you tell me what kind of ordnance you have on that bird?"
"Besides the ball turrets?" Katherine checked the gunship's ordnance. "Half a dozen air-to-air, and two remote guided bombs."
There was a pause on the other end. "Did you say bombs?"
"Yes, sir." She had a sudden sinking feeling she knew what he was thinking. "Ares, that building is already half down. If I drop a bomb inside, the whole thing is going to collapse with you in it."
"Only if I'm still in it when it comes down. How good of a pilot are you, Katherine?"
Katherine felt her heart begin to race. Butting heads with the other Hornet didn't scare her. What Mitchell was hinting at did. It was crazy.
"I don't know if I'm that good," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady and professional.
"You better be," he said. "It's the only way I can think of that I don't die. Bulldog, get clear of the reconstruction zone. Peregrine, scoop up Bulldog and then make your approach. I'm on the twenty-eighth floor, but you'll have to drop the ordnance through the hole in the rooftop. Think you can hit that target?"
"Yes, sir," she replied without hesitation.
"Good. I'll meet you on the east side, right in the center. You've got five minutes."
"Colonel?" Katherine said. "You know this is crazy, right?"
"It's only crazy if we fail. Otherwise, it's frigging brilliant. Let's be brilliant."
Katherine felt a swell in her chest. Colonel Williams knew how to motivate people. "Yes, sir. Bulldog, what's your location?"
"I'm away from the hot zone. The enemy Hornet is circling it, near the twenty-eighth floor. Better steer clear of the windows, Ares, he's waiting to cut you to ribbons if you pop your head out."
"Affirmative," Mitchell replied. "Peregrine, it looks like you'll have to clear the skies before you make your run."
"Yes, sir," Katherine said. "Do I get any extra playtime?"
"Negative. My p-rat is picking up vibrations from the floor above. The opposition is already cutting through, and I'd really rather not be here when they arrive."
"Affirmative, Colonel. On my way."
Katherine put her hand on the control pad on the right side of the cockpit, navigating to the controls for th
e remotely guided bombs. She tapped it a few times, loading one of the bombs into its launcher, and then opening the armored bay that protected it. Then she manipulated the controls to open the covers over the air-to-air missiles. It was dangerous to use them so close to the population, where a stray shot could hit a building and kill dozens of innocents, but she didn't have much of a choice. Mitchell was counting on her to get them out of the mess, and she wasn't going to let him down.
First, she needed to pick up Trevor. She rotated the Hornet, scanning the ground for him and spotting him a few seconds later as he ran out from cover and waved his arms. Immediately, she could see the local police a couple of blocks away begin moving in his direction. Hadn't Blackrock told them to steer clear? Or had Watson changed their orders? She looked around, spotting the drone to her right, too far away to shoot at but close enough to be keeping an eye on things. Damn it.
She flipped the toggle to open one of the hatches on the side of the craft, and then pushed hard on the controls, dropping the gunship faster than it was ever intended to fall. She set the repulsor to max as it neared the ground, causing the craft to shake and rattle enough to nearly knock her from her seat. Somehow, it held together, and Trevor hurried aboard even as she was lifting skyward again.
"Nice pickup," Trevor said, joining her in the cockpit and sliding into the co-pilot seat. "Better than Mazerat. So much for my idea to help out the Colonel. Bloody stupid, eh?"
"Stupid, but brave," she replied. "I think the enhancers are messing with your brain. Affecting your judgment."
"Could be. It's a good thing we've got the Colonel to think for me, I suppose."
Katherine didn't answer, returning her focus to flying. She gained altitude and then began to circle the edge of the zone, adding velocity as she cornered. The gunships were shielded against radar, lidar, and heat tracking, making it difficult for either Hornet to spot one another without visual. She tried to sneak a peek through the cracks between buildings as she turned, hoping to catch a glimpse of the target and finding it next to impossible.
Five minutes. It seemed like an eternity, but she knew it would pass in a hurry, especially in the middle of a dogfight. This wasn't going to be a dogfight, though. It was going to be like two heavyweight boxers stepping into the ring, or two old west gunslingers meeting in the middle of an empty street.
"Hold on," Katherine warned as she swung the Hornet out past the reconstruction zone.
She could see the flashing lights of the Police vehicles below, and the crowd that was gathering to see what all the fuss was about. She could also see Watson's drone hanging back in observation. Was it able to relay what it saw back to the Blackrock aircraft? She didn't think so. If Watson could have taken direct control of the mercenary force, he would have done it already.
"Here we go," she said, coming about one more time and pushing the throttle forward. The engines screamed at the sudden effort, throwing the gunship ahead, directly toward one of the old buildings.
"Uh, Kate," Trevor said, watching the structure approach.
Lights started flashing in the cockpit, and Katherine's helmet surrounded the building in an outline and warned her of the imminent collision. She could sense Trevor tensing beside her, putting his feet up on the dashboard and pushing, as if that would somehow alter their course.
She threw the stick over, easing off on the throttle. The craft shuddered again, complaining against the turn before finally giving in. It slid to the side, coming in so close to the building the vibrations shattered the glass. She was running only a foot or two away, blasting down the street towards Mitchell's position.
The enemy Hornet was nowhere to be found.
No. Wait. There it was, coming around the corner. The front of it was aimed at the building, but it began to rotate as the pilot caught sight of her.
Too late. He was way too late. The Hornet was outlined in red on Katherine's HUD, and she squeezed the trigger to let loose two of the air-to-air missiles. They shot forward from their wing mounts, propelled on rails for the initial burst before their own motors ignited and accelerated them in a hurry.
The Hornet dropped, so quickly that for a moment Katherine thought it had died before being struck. The missiles went over the top of it, the first streaking past the building and striking the one behind it, throwing smoke and debris out from where it made contact, the second slamming into the corner of the twenty-eighth floor, exploding in a shower of fragments and flame.
"Shit," Katherine cursed, altering her course to follow the Hornet. "Ares, are you okay?" She felt her body turn cold.
Mitchell's laughter pierced the comm. "I think you might have bought yourself a little time," he replied. "Some of the cutting's stopped."
Katherine let herself smile as she brought the turrets in line and opened fire, strafing the top of the second Hornet. Bullets tore into the armor plating, chewing at the enemy craft as it desperately went nose-up and returned missiles of its own. They were defensive shots, but they still forced Katherine to skip the Hornet out of the way and throw her own aim. The missiles hit the top of a condemned skyscraper behind them, once more sending debris shooting out to fall to the street below.
"Bloody hell," Trevor said beside her. "He's a tough son of a bitch."
The second Hornet was on the move, trying to put the buildings between them and maneuver for a better position. Katherine threw the throttle forward, causing the craft to shake again as she dove toward the street.
"Not tough enough," she said.
"What the hell are you doing?" Trevor asked, face pale.
The street was approaching in a hurry, their Hornet dropping below and behind the Blackrock craft. The maneuver drew the attention of the turrets, and they began to rotate back to engage.
"You're moving into the line of fire?" Trevor shouted, his voice rising in pitch.
Katherine didn't answer. She knew what she was doing.
The ground rose up in front of them. Once more, collision warnings blared at the imminent crash. At the last moment, Katherine adjusted the repulsor power, pulled back on the stick, and held the thrust. The Hornet almost literally bounced off the pavement below, skipping up and forward, the physics sending the craft jostling ahead as the first Hornet fired behind them. The change in vector brought the air-to-air missiles to bear, and a second later she sent two more of them howling out and away.
Less than a second after that, both missiles hit the target, impacting against the hull of the gunship and detonating, puncturing the armor and setting off a secondary explosion on the craft as they raced out ahead of it.
"Ares, this is Peregrine," Katherine said calmly. "Scratch one tango."
18
"Roger, Peregrine," Mitchell said. "Nice work." He checked his p-rat for the time. "You've got two minutes, forty seconds. Get ready to drop the payload."
"Yes, sir," Katherine replied. "Moving into position now."
Mitchell stepped out into the corridor, his eyes still on the entry to the stairwell. A cloud of smoke and debris had flowed into the area, caused by the wayward missile that had blown out the southern corner of the floor and taking out at least one or two of the Blackrock mercenaries.
There were still two more units cutting holes in the floor above him. The acoustic vibrations were too high in pitch for his ears to register on their own, but not too high for the ARR to capture and process. They were coming to get him, and they probably had no idea that he knew it.
He crossed the hallway, keeping his rifle trained on the stairwell door as he passed in front of it. He paused at the corner again, dropping the small camera onto the ground so he would be able to see when the units moved in. Then he headed across the floor toward the east side offices. Now that the enemy Hornet was out of commission, it was safe to prepare for pickup.
He didn't let his guard down as he traversed the building, keeping the rifle up and ready, monitoring the feed from the stairs and keeping track of the sound his neural interface was parsing f
or him. He reached the door to the eastern offices, pushing it open and stepping inside. Across from him rested an entire wall of windows, from which he could see smoke rising from the building on the other side of the street, as well as from the ground below, where the Blackrock Hornet's remains had fallen. This part of the city had been a war zone once, and today it looked like one again. He wondered what the people who lived here thought of all the noise and explosions. He could imagine the panic they might be feeling, especially in light of other recent events. The assassination attempts on the NEA dignitaries, the malfunction of the maglev, the sinking of the XENO-1.
He was sorry that they had to be witness to any of it, but that was Watson's doing, not his. What he would do if they failed would be much, much worse.
He headed for the windows, swapping out the tactical rifle for the Police issue, bringing it up and pulling the trigger. Bullets peppered the transparent material, leaving scuffs in a neat line along the center. None of it cracked or shattered.
"Bulletproof?" Mitchell said. What kind of office had this been?
He dropped the Police rifle and raised the tactical with the armor-piercing rounds. He fired again, watching the bullets pass through with satisfaction, creating a spider web of cracks around the impact points. The floor had been nearly stripped, with only a few pieces of the most badly damaged furniture remaining. He shoved one of the desks over to the glass, checking the time. Less than a minute.
"Peregrine, are you in position?" he asked.
"Affirmative, Colonel. Waiting on your - oh. Shit."
The transmission cut out, but Mitchell could hear the sudden burst of rifle fire coming from the rooftop.
"Peregrine?" he said. "Katherine, come in."
He moved to the window, looking up and trying to catch sight of the Hornet or whatever was attacking them.
"Ares, two more incoming. One squad is on the roof," Trevor said. "A third Hornet is headed your way."
Mitchell barely had time for Trevor to finish his warning when he saw the flash in the distance. He didn't have time to curse before he turned and ran, moving away from the window as fast he could manage. More synthetics poured into his system as his p-rat determined the source of the threat and prepared him to deal with the outcome.
