Mason stared at the man, but like his daughter, he appeared to not be intimidated by Mason’s blank stare. “Morals?” he growled. “Since when do morals play into this? I have a strong dislike of all things Thorne as you already know. And I can fight—fairly well, I’d say. Why does anything else matter?”
“Loyalty matters very much to me,” the man whom Mason presumed was Red Royce shot back. “How can I trust my men if they are disloyal and dishonest? For all I know, you could be here for the purpose of deception, such as drawing Thorne’s security forces to our base.” The rebel leader moved up to the bars of the cell. Mason noticed that Royce and he were close in age.
Deception is my bread and butter. I’d never have survived this long without it. He shrugged. “I have no reason to draw their attention here. That wouldn’t be conducive to a long life from where I’m standing. As you are probably aware, I’m a selfish man who looks out for my own interests. In this case, I think our interests happen to align, and I’d like to join forces for the purpose of taking down Thorne Industries. I’m not afraid to tell you right now that if a better opportunity to reach that end comes along, I won’t hesitate to abandon you and take that chance.” He stared back at Royce, who regarded him, poker-faced. “See, I’m honest about my self-serving reasons. I don’t think I can be any clearer than that. One thing I will never do is sell you out to the enemy.”
“Fair enough,” Royce replied with a curt nod. “I’ll consider your request, and we’ll speak again in the morning since it’s late. I’ll have a hot meal brought down for you.”
***
Mason was awakened by a rumbling boom from somewhere in the base. The bunk rattled beneath him as the walls and floor shook from the blast. Explosion, he thought, instantly awake and sitting up. Concrete dust drifted down from the ceiling. A crack he hadn’t noticed before crossed the concrete ceiling. He saw by his HUD that the time was 03:00.
The steel door to the prison had been shut the night before after Keeva had brought him his dinner. He dialed up his augs to try to hear what was going on outside. A siren went off throughout the base, and a red light on the ceiling flashed. Footsteps raced by in the hall outside, and voices were raised in fear and excitement.
I have to get out of here. He wasn’t surprised the base was under attack. The rebels had been acting too cocky the prior night, and their overconfidence had likely allowed themselves to be tracked.
Gunfire rang out, light at first and then quickly becoming a heavy barrage. For an agonizingly long time, Mason stood at the bars, listening. The once-confident voices had turned to panic. Come on, let me the hell out of here. He gripped the bars of the cell and willed someone to open the door and release him.
Another, smaller explosion that sounded like a grenade came from somewhere nearby. Mason felt the floor shudder and the bars vibrate in his hands. Somebody screamed in pain from what sounded like the hallway outside the prison. Another flurry of gunfire followed. Light footsteps approached rapidly, and then the door burst open.
Keeva darted into the room and slammed the door shut behind her. She frantically worked the mechanical deadbolt and then leaned against the door, breathing heavily. Her eyes were wide with fear, and blood trickled down her forehead. Her blue hair had turned partially gray from cement dust. Her eyes locked with Mason’s when she noticed him standing there.
“Keeva, let me out of here,” he said calmly. “Let me fight—I can help you.” He didn’t want to panic the young woman and send her running away, so he kept his voice confident and even. “If you don’t want to give me a weapon, that’s fine. I will try to distract them.”
The young woman caught her breath, and he saw her nod as she made a decision. “Yeah, you’d make a good distraction. They may want you more badly than they want us, but I’m not going to make it easy and give you to them gift wrapped like this.” She started over to the controls to release the cell doors.
Mason heard the tread of footfalls outside the door—slow, unhurried, and very heavy. They stopped outside the door. Shit, this won’t be good. Keeva had apparently heard the tread as well and froze halfway to the control.
“Hurry!” he hissed, his eyes fixed on the door.
The door suddenly exploded off its hinges, steel shrieking in protest from the powerful force that hit it. Mason jumped back a split second before the twisted steel door slammed into the bars. The door was buckled, and one corner jammed between the bars of Mason’s cell, keeping it upright. Mason took advantage of the cover and crouched behind the door, waiting for a glimpse of who stood outside. The heavy footsteps entered the room, and peering around the door, Mason saw the tank.
The heavy assault skin, or “tank,” as they were often called, entered the room. The skin was a massive man with a heavily muscled physique, wearing thick poly-ceramic armor and carrying a pulse rifle. The rifle looked like a toy gun in the huge man’s hand as he slowly scanned the room. Keeva, who had been frozen in place, quickly dove behind the desk across the room.
The tank spun and fired, the pulse rifle wildly blasting holes through the wall and tearing the desk apart into smoldering cinders.
Mason got up and kicked the steel door as hard as he could. It dislodged from the bars and struck the tank in the shoulder, knocking his aim off. Energy bolts flew wildly into the wall and ceiling, just missing the cell door release control. The tank turned, and Mason reached through the bars and grabbed the scalding hot barrel of the pulse rifle with his alloy hand and yanked on it as hard as he could. The big man took a couple steps forward before regaining his balance. Mason hammered on the man’s wrist, but even with his strength augs, his blows didn’t faze the tank. The skin squeezed the trigger, and bolts blasted into the wall of the cell, sending chips of concrete flying and choking the air with dust. Mason pinned the barrel of the rifle under his arm against his ballistic vest.
“Keeva, open the fucking door!” he roared. He hoped the woman hadn’t gotten shot, but he couldn’t be sure.
The tank hauled back on his gun, slamming Mason hard into the bars of the cell. “James Mason,” the skin grunted in surprise as he got a good look at Mason’s face for the first time. He hauled on the gun again, and Mason could feel it slipping through his grasp.
With his left hand, Mason fumbled at the weapon and managed to hit the release button for the energy cell, but it slipped out of his hand and bounced off the booted foot of the tank before he could secure it.
The big man grunted in annoyance and punched at Mason, who released the rifle barrel and ducked. The tank’s fist slammed into the bars with a loud clang, leaving a bar bent from the mighty blow. The skin stooped to pick up the energy cell, and Mason knew he was done.
The cell door suddenly gave a loud clank and began to swing open. Keeva’s face was pale as she watched the tank pick up the energy cell and stand up straight again, face as blank as a robot’s as he calmly began reloading the rifle.
Mason lunged out of the cell, clotheslining the big man with his cybernetic arm. The tank staggered a couple steps back but didn’t go down. He also maintained his grip on the energy cell. He cracked Mason a glancing blow to the face with the stock of the pulse rifle and followed up with a size-twenty boot to the chest. As Mason slammed into the wall, the tank slapped the energy cell home. The rifle whined for an instant as it powered up.
Blam blam blam blam. Keeva’s twin S&W pistols belched fire from both barrels. The 10mm rounds slammed into the tank’s face, head, and chest. The enormous mountain of muscle teetered and fell in front of Mason. Click click. The young woman kept pulling the triggers, but the pistols were empty. After a moment, she lowered her guns and let out a sigh of relief.
Mason picked himself up off the floor, trying to ignore his sore back. When he looked down, he saw the skin’s face pock-marked from the rounds. The big man’s eyes suddenly focused on Mason, and he brought the rifle up to fire. Without time to think, Mason dived on top of the man, trying to wrestle the rifle away. Bolts shot into t
he ceiling, and chips of concrete rained down. Mason slammed the man in the face with his metal fist over and over. He extended his arm blade and drove it into the tank’s eye. The blade initially met resistance from the dermal plating, but then it slowly passed through the skull socket and slipped into the soft brain beneath. The tank thrashed around for a moment, his heels drumming on the floor, before going still. Blood began leaking out of the eye socket when Mason withdrew the blade.
“Holy shit,” Keeva breathed. She stared at the massive corpse of the tank with her mouth open. Her guns hung limply from her hands as though ready to drop.
“Come on, we need to get out of here.” Mason got back to his feet and picked up the tank’s pulse rifle. “I need bigger weapons… either my own or the heaviest thing you’ve got. It’s gonna take a lot to bring these fuckers down. Don’t forget to reload.” He removed a spare energy cell from the skin’s belt and slipped it into a pocket.
Keeva seemed to come out of her daze. She smoothly reloaded the pistols and slipped them back into their holsters. “My father and a few of his fighters are holding them off in the motor pool while the majority evacuate the complex. We need to help them. We’ll stop by the armory on the way—that’s where your equipment is.” Just then, the power went out, and the siren went silent, leaving them in the dark except for the flashing red alarm light.
They cautiously peered into the hall before darting outside, Mason in the lead and following Keeva’s whispered directions. The corridor alternated between pitch blackness and a red tint when the light cycled on and off every second.
“Down the hall, around the corner, and first room on the right,” Keeva said. She crept along behind Mason, one gun in her hand, constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure no more Thorne troops were coming up behind them.
Mason could see fine in the darkness due to his optical augs, but he wasn’t sure if Keeva could until they started moving. The confident way she moved made him realize her synthetic violet eyes were functional and not just cosmetic. Sporadic gunfire resounded in the distance; the sounds of resistance seemed to be getting lighter.
He was a bit surprised that CorpSec was using tanks. Heavy assault skins were typically used as frontline infantry troops by the Expeditionary Force; he hadn’t seen them being used for routine CorpSec raids before. I suppose this is anything but routine. I hope these rebels are evacuating and not fucking around—it won’t do much good to join up with them if they get slaughtered here.
Mason and Keeva rounded the corner, only to find the ceiling had collapsed. What appeared to be half a ton or more of broken concrete slabs and debris choked the passageway. “Shit,” Keeva cursed quietly. “We can’t get to the armory now… maybe from the other side, but that requires using the access stairs at the other end of the motor pool.”
“Let’s get up there,” Mason decided. “We probably won’t be able to reach the armory, but if we wait much longer, this place will be totally overrun and everyone will be slaughtered. We’ll help the survivors as much as possible to buy time for people to escape, but be prepared to retreat.”
“I’ve got to find Father. He’ll know what to do.” Keeva made to start back down the passageway.
Mason grabbed her arm. “Listen,” he barked, making her start. “I give you my word that we’ll do our best to help them, but if it comes down to it, we can’t stay here. These are trained killers—that tank we killed is military grade. They’ve brought their big guns to deal with you people. This base is already lost—now we have to live to fight another day. Understand?”
Keeva nodded slowly.
Mason released her arm. “Good. Now tell me where to go and keep behind me.”
The two of them cautiously made their way up to the hangar. The cavernous room was lit by emergency lights, which cast deep pools of shadow throughout the large space. Signs of heavy fighting were all around them—corpses, body parts, and what seemed like gallons of blood covered the floors and walls. A quick count revealed at least twenty corpses, including a couple Thorne skins. Shell casings covered the ground like the remnants of a brass hailstorm.
Deeper in the hangar, the sporadic blat blat blat of energy weapons and the answering reports of conventional firearms resounded. The immediate area was clear of enemy troops.
“Give me the lay of the land. What’s down that way? Are there any crew-served weapons onboard any vehicles that we can get to?”
“Um, not sure about that. We have a few of those vehicles; they should be down that way.” Keeva pointed to the left, toward where the fighting was coming from. “I’m not sure what is parked where. The command center, sleeping quarters, and crew mess area are all down there, along with the alternate exit point. And the other stairs down to the armory.”
“Good. So they came in the primary entrance point and fought their way through here. The question is: do they know about the alternate exit? If they do, then they will have it covered to mow down any escapees, but if they don’t, then that would be our best bet. They will definitely have their rear covered outside this cave.”
“I’m guessing they somehow tracked the convoy that returned last night. The alternate exit is almost never used, so chances are they don’t know about it.” Keeva’s face brightened for a moment but then fell again. “Only problem is we’re gonna have to break through to get out of here.” A furious flurry of gunfire, both conventional and energy weapons, drowned out her words. The darkened hangar lit up from the muzzle flashes and gave them hope that they might be able to reach the survivors. Stray rounds ricocheted off the stone walls nearby.
“Right. We don’t have much time. Let’s worry about finding some heavier weaponry first. We also need to find a vehicle—you got anything with any kind of ceramic plating? Their energy weapons will be much less effective against it.”
They quickly moved between several parked vehicles, checking the armor and weapons they were loaded with. Mason decided on an armored truck like the kind used decades before to transfer currency around between financial institutions. The truck had been retrofitted with ceramic plates, and although it looked like a chop-shop job, it was the best chance they had. Some enterprising individual had mounted an M134 minigun in the gun nest atop the armored truck, which brought a rare smile to Mason’s face. If we play our cards right, we might have a chance of getting out of here. The weapon was capable of firing up to four thousand of its 7.62mm rounds per minute. A quick glance at the ammo box revealed maybe eight hundred or so rounds remaining. I’ll just have to be careful so I don’t spend it all on one trigger pull, then.
Keeva tried to contact Royce by Datalink. “I’m not getting anything—network’s down,” she reported.
“That’s a common tactic, for CorpSec to jam all the comms in or out. We’ll just have to play it fast and loose. Let’s creep up as close as we can get, and then I’ll open up on them. Not a whole lot of ammo, so if we get into a protracted firefight, we’re gonna be screwed. When I say to move, you step on it.”
“Let’s do this.” Keeva’s face was pale but resolute.
Mason was impressed by her bravery. He climbed up into the gunner’s seat and made sure the minigun was ready to rock and roll. Keeva fired up the engine, and it rumbled to life. She left the vehicle’s lights off and they slowly crept down the hangar. Mason scanned the darkness and shadows for targets. I sure hope their attention is focused so much on the rebels that I can light them up from behind before they know what hit them.
Another exchange of fire thundered through the hangar. A hundred yards ahead, Mason located the positions of a squad of a dozen Thorne skins who exchanged fire with a group of rebels dug in near the end of the hangar. A tunnel that Mason assumed was the alternate exit curved away in the distance. He called to Keeva to stop the truck.
Mason pointed the M134 at the nearest Thorne tank and exhaled slowly. He squeezed the trigger, and the minigun buzzed like an angry hornet nest in response. He caught the tank by surprise, and the 7.62 round
s ripped into the skin’s back, piercing his polyceramic armor and blasting bloody craters through the grunt’s torso. As the man fell, Mason eased off the trigger and acquired his next target.
A regular CorpSec enforcer whirled to face the rear attack. Mason fired, the minigun surprisingly quiet for the amount of damage it could do. Hot brass rained down on the roof of the truck and bounced off his thighs and fell inside the truck. Rounds struck the enforcer, throwing him back against a barrel and causing him to dance in place for a moment as the rounds ripped into him. “Do the chaingun cha-cha, motherfucker!” Mason screamed in glee.
The rest of the CorpSec grunts broke ranks, running and diving for cover. Mason hosed down the crates and vehicles they dove behind, turning everything to swiss cheese and painting the floor and walls crimson.
The rebels popped up from their cover and unleashed their own volley on the disarrayed Thorne troops.
“Stand and fight, you bloody arseholes!” A man in a crimson suit of power armor roared the challenge as he lumbered forward, firing a .50-caliber machine gun from the hip. Mason recognized Royce behind the faceplate. Half a dozen rebels spread out in a wedge formation behind Royce, firing assault rifles and SMGs at the Thorne troops.
And then Mason saw her. A lithe form that moved almost faster than he could track broke off from the embattled CorpSec squad and raced for cover into a tunnel leading off the hangar. He instinctively swung the gun and then froze. Bethany St. Pierre regarded him, as much shock on her beautiful face as he must have felt.
The moment lasted a couple seconds or less, and then she reacted first, snapping her long railgun to her shoulder. Kerang! Mason felt the shattering of a ceramic plate next to him and the tug on his ballistic vest as the hypersonic round passed through his vest like butter, grazing his side. Then he slammed the trigger down and annihilated the mouth of the tunnel she was using for cover. The sustained rounds blasted apart rock and concrete. He pointed the muzzle up into the ceiling, causing a minor collapse of the tunnel.
Extensis Vitae: City of Sarx Page 10
