Nighter

by Magdalena Kozak

  “They have fucking killer bulletproof vests,” he said finally.

  Suddenly, a shiver ran down his spine. A feeling that this was it. He tightened his fingers on his weapon, carefully watching the entrance to the packaging hall.

  They’re here! He heard a message from Ebur.

  I confirm the renegade landing, Falx joined in. At least twelve.

  Eleven now! the nighter boasted proudly.

  They didn’t hear a single shot from this distance. But certainly a fierce battle was fought on the top.

  Ten! the second sniper boasted.

  The administrative hall was filled with a sudden bang. The crack of breaking glass, explosions of grenades... the renegades had begun their assault.

  Nine, Ebur said.

  Eight! Falx didn’t give him the satisfaction.

  Suddenly, both snipers were silent and said nothing more. Vesper swallowed, and his eyes began to sting.

  ***

  “Vesper, watch out!” Daps yelled. “There are already inside!”

  The door jerked opened with a firm move. The nighter and the policeman immediately clung to niche’s at opposite ends. The glass fell, smashing into tiny pieces. The grenade rolled into administrative hall and exploded, spreading shrapnel around. It wasn’t clear whether any of the renegades were hurt, but maybe it had stopped them for just a little.

  Vesper looked at Crumbly, who was just straightening up. His face was stretched in a smile and lit up by indescribable happiness.

  “That was dope!” the policeman shouted, shaking his head in admiration. “Just steaky!”

  Vesper smiled politely in response. Idiot, he thought shortly.

  And then he saw A-T let go of the MP5, and take the Glock from his holster and look into gun barrel with amusement, twiddling his impatient fingers on the trigger. In the blink of an eye, Vesper realized what had happened—one of the renegades had taken control of the man. First, he pumped him full of euphoria and then tried to kill him with his own gun.

  Nighter immediately slapped Crumbly’s hand with butt of his rifle. A shot was fired, and a bullet flew past the head of the man without doing him harm.

  The lieutenant let go of the gun, and flew up a little bit. He raised his right hand, then dropped it like a hammer on A-Ts helmet, dead center. The man limped at the impact, and slumped softly to the floor.

  Suddenly, the world danced, swirled around. An overwhelming weakness took over Vesper’s body, and his eyelids drooped limply over his eyes.

  Kneel! he heard a firm voice. Kneel, you half-human filth!

  The nighter dropped to his knees. He lifted his lids with effort and stared straight ahead.

  A black-clad figure walked into the room and stopped a few feet away. A predator’s cold eyes glowed with overwhelming power, the expression strangely similar to the one that still haunted Vesper at night.

  “Renegade,” he whispered, barely able to turn his tongue in his half-paralyzed mouth.

  The man smirked proudly. In an incomparably swift move, he held out both hands. A gun barrel was staring at him from the right hand and a bag of blood was held in the left. Certainly not artificial, there could be no doubt of that.

  “You have five seconds to decide,” the renegade said. “You join us or die a second time. Ready, set, go.”

  One hundred and twenty-one, one hundred twenty-two...

  The nighter tried to rise from his knees, jerked to the left, right... It didn’t do anything, as if he was bound by an invisible bond. The renegade held him tightly.

  “One hundred and twenty-three, one hundred twenty-four...” the other one counted on. “One hundred twenty-five. Stop. Decision?”

  Vesper swallowed. Then he looked up. Slowly, he shook his head decisively.

  “Good night,” the renegade said, looking him straight in the eye.

  A shot was fired.

  Vesper held his breath, closed his eyes involuntarily... He realized, however, that he was still alive, so he opened his eyes quickly. He saw how the renegade’s face flooded with blood, and his body collapsed limply to the floor.

  “I don’t like it when someone targets my pal,” Crumbly said from behind his back, clutching the Glock in outstretched hands. “I really don’t like it.”

  Vesper let the air out with a hiss. So the big man couldn’t be stunned for a long time. What luck.

  They both stood up, swaying slightly on their feet. They looked at each other seriously.

  “What the fuck was that?” the man asked, pointing to the corpse lying before them. “What did he do to us?”

  “I can’t tell you,” the nighter said simply. “If I were you, I’d start getting used to the idea that it was a very large dog, and we went into a temporary panic seeing it. Under severe stress, of course. And I wouldn’t change the testimony, no matter what.”

  Crumbly nodded without further questions.

  I report, one renegade less, Vesper said in his mind. Nidor, you copy?

  He received no response. He reached with his mind, looking for the commander... Nothing, as if the other had disappeared from the world of the living.

  Vesper felt himself pale.

  Daps, how are the stairs? He asked, trying to control his nervousness.

  Silence as well.

  The nighter looked at the man. Then he swallowed.

  “We need to go down,” he said.

  “Are you crazy?” the other one said immediately. “There was no order.”

  “Something wrong is going on there,” Vesper out a little shakily. “Very bad even.”

  “Do what you want,” Crumbly shook his head firmly. “I’m not leaving my post unless I get an order. Sorry, dude. That’s our procedure.”

  “ISA is leading this mission,” the nighter stated coolly. “I'm a lieutenant. Follow my order. We’re going down.”

  The man looked at him, weighing something in his mind.

  “Yes, sir!” he replied after a moment.

  Vesper looked at the elevator. No, no way. The power was off, and better not count on the generators. Besides, the last thing he wanted was to make noise.

  “To the stairs!” He commanded. “Now!”

  They both moved simultaneously. They reached the door shredded by the grenade’s explosion. Crumbly swept the administrative hall with a hasty barrel move, at the same time that Vesper ran up, crouching, to the nearest desk. He hid behind it. He gave his colleague the signal, and the A-T jumped to the front, while the nighter secured his passage.

  They crossed the demolished hall in a few jumps that way.

  They didn’t encounter anyone in their way.

  Vesper began get seriously scared. It had to be very bad at the bottom.

  They reached the staircase, and entered through the gaping hole in the wall. They looked at two bodies lying on the stairs with their heads smashed. It was hard to recognize Daps and Gavron. Blood dripped down the stairs, joining in one stream flowing from both bodies.

  They passed them without a word, quickly, carefully climbing down.

  ***

  Vesper and Crumbly entered the sterile airlock. They sped through it quickly, and hid in the corner where one of the walls joined the wall that the transparent, sliding door was set in. Both their wings were completely destroyed now. Leaning slightly from behind the wall, the whole hall was plainly visible.

  The floor and walls were lined with white washable terracotta. Under the ceiling was a web of pipes, connecting here and there to complicated machinery that filled the room.

  Machines took up almost the entire room, apart from six feet-wide spaces on the sides and one in the middle. Silhouettes slumped on the floor were visible scattered around the room. There was an empty, square area in the hall’s center.

  Seven men kneeled there in full battle gear. Their weapons hung loose on the straps. Their hands were folded at the back of their heads.

  A proudly erect renegade stood in front of them. Perhaps he was the one who took control over th
em, forced the people to surrender. People? Vesper focused, and nodded after a moment. Certainly they were people, he didn’t sense a single nighter among the prisoners.

  Two of renegade’s subordinates stood next to him. The other five were busy with the machines. They were setting up explosives.

  The renegade seemed to command them, not straining too much to control the minds of the captured people. It was enough for him that they knelt, staring with dumb eyes, and didn’t try to get up. For him, they were no enemies, but just cattle for slaughter. He held them still alive as a kind of collateral. If things went wrong, and relief came too soon, he would have hostages. But if all went according to plan, ordering them to kill themselves as he left the place would be enough. They’d do it. Mincemeat, that’s what they were, nothing more.

  Vesper stepped back. Think, buddy, think! Since there were seven captives, where did all those dead bodies on the floor come from? There were eight A-Ts plus a nighter, that’s nine. And there were at least eleven bodies on the ground.

  Security guards, probably.

  He nodded. Initially, they’d assumed that the security would leg it right away and none of them would prove to be overly willing to put their lives at risk for three and a half Z’s per hour. But no, some of the security guards had apparently stayed, guided by some strange code, a modern version on bushido. Since they’d agreed to come to work for a set price, they would fulfill their job until the end.

  And now they laid lifeless on the ground. Either them or the Anti-Terrorists... and a nighter.

  Nidor... one of these bodies is Nidor. Vesper thought about it without any feelings; he set despair aside for later.

  He returned to the plans, analyzing the situation coolly and clearly, like a robot. What could be done? The factory wouldn’t start running for a while, so it didn’t matter if the renegades blew this hall or not.

  So then, would he be able to get those A-Ts out of here? Or kill the general? Both would be best.

  Well, he had to try.

  “Stay here,” he told his colleague. “Look, the most important thing is to eliminate that guy, the one standing in the middle. The most important one, you see who it is?” he looked at him questioningly.

  “Sure,” the cop confirmed calmly.

  “I’ll move through the top,” Vesper whispered, pointing to a tangle of pipes suspended a good two feet below the ceiling. “I’ll try to get him from there. Then the guys will be able to move and maybe can make work something out. You will then secure the fallback, right?”

  “Sure,” Crumbly repeated.

  “If I fail...” The nighter paused for a moment. “First of all, try to eliminate the leader. Then you can breeze out.”

  A contemptuous grimace flashed across the man’s face. No breezing out, not while there were his colleagues still in there, it said.

  “If I don’t succeed, there will be nobody to stay here for,” Vesper said. “Withdraw then, wait for the reinforcement to come. Later!”

  He slipped out of the airlock, and quickly climbed the wall. He slipped between the pipes, and finally found himself above them. He didn’t lay down on them, however, only hung in the air. He began hurriedly glide forward. It was much quieter that way.

  Glancing down, he tried to watch the renegade and captured people. Suddenly he stopped, and dropped on the pipes. He pressed his face to them, looking tense through the metal tangle.

  Nidor. There, between the A-Ts. Fuck, it was him for sure!

  Vesper used his senses, trying to receive the characteristic waves sent by individuals. Those standing, and the others, by the machines, were certainly renegades. But those kneeling people, none of them appeared in his mind as his own.

  You dismal idiot, Nidor is a hider after all!

  Vesper sighed, overcome by a sense of poignant relief. He understood immediately. Probably the renegade commander (Nex? Was that Nex himself?) had used his power and ordered the people to kneel. Nidor immediately realized the situation. He was threatened with being alone on the battlefield, and exposed to the shots on top of that. Therefore, he preferred to fog up his true nature, pretend to be human, and kneeled down with the others, waiting for a favorable opportunity.

  Vesper kept moving forward, thinking frantically. How could he let his commander know of his presence? For now, telepathy was out of the question; a hider’s shield didn’t let thoughts in. But perhaps he could lean out from behind the pipe so that Nidor would see him, then they would both attack.

  He was just a little late.

  Nidor jumped up, and shot out whole MP5 series. He stuck a full magazine into the renegade, all thirty bullets.

  Nex had been thrown backward, then fell to the ground limply. His lieutenants rushed at him immediately, shielding him with their own bodies while shooting in the attacker’s direction.

  Everything started happening at once, as if in a fast-forwarded movie. Nidor collapsed, spilling blood around. The A-Ts woke up, got up, and took up arms. The other renegades rushed toward them, more bullets crunched out. Vesper disentangled himself from behind the pipes and attacked, firing from above.

  The renegades slid off their commander. They raised him as quickly as possible and rushed to the exit.

  Crumbly saw two men gliding toward him in the air, holding a third, limp one up between them. He leaned from behind the doorframe, and aimed his raised gun.

  “Police!” he shouted out, in accordance with procedure.

  He didn’t get a single shot. The men slipped past him instantly. Passing him, one of them extended his arm. He hit the officer in the chest with an incredible force.

  Crumbly flew a good yard back, hit his back against the wall, and slid down slowly. The shrill pain appeared in his chest, and blood frothed on his lips.

  They disappeared up the staircase like ghosts.

  The bombardment calmed. Only metallic clangs of broken machine pieces and the silent hiss of steam escaping from somewhere could be heard in the hall.

  Vesper leaped down from pipes, and he immediately clung to Nidor. He assessed his face with careful eyes filled with anxiety. He brightened up after a moment.

  He lived. Luckily, he lived. Yes, he looked shredded... but the head was whole. The heart wasn’t pierced either. He’d be fine.

  He swept over the other policemen with his eyes. Three of them crawled toward him on all fours with obvious difficulty. Two lying nearby raised their head, staring with shocked eyes. The rest remained stretched motionless on the ground. None of the renegades moved either.

  Time to take care of the wounded. Like, now.

  Crumbly, get up! he cried in his mind. I need you here!

  He received only a shocked, pain-filled, tangled train of thought from the man in response. Oh, right, he remembered. Crumbly wasn’t a telepath after all. He’s only human; he could hear, but he couldn’t count on a coherent response from him. Unless he switched to receiving and picked something up... No, Vesper shook his head firmly. He wasn’t curious about what the others thought at this moment.

  He laughed a little hysterically. He stood up, his eyes sweeping the hall.

  Suddenly one of the renegades moved.

  Vesper jumped away immediately, aiming a weapon at him instantly.

  The renegade’s body tumbled aside and a stunned A-T moved from under it. His left forearm was torn to the bone, blood gushed in streams.

  “What was that?” he mumbled. “What the fuck was that... buddy?”

  “Terrorists,” the nighter said firmly, kneeling beside him. He pulled a tourniquet out of his arm pocket, and began to staunch the bleeding quickly, glancing around swiftly.

  “You and you,” he pointed to police officers who’d crawled up to him and stared out somewhat consciously. “See to those on the ground. First aid, now.”

  He tightened the band, then wrapped the bandage on the man’s arm.

  It worked; the blood stopped flowing. This luscious, fragrant, adrenaline-charged stream...

  He sh
ook his head, and pursed his lips. He got up, and ran to the corpse of one of the officers. He took off his backpack with the first aid kit, and opened it one decisive stroke.

  Carefully, methodically, he began bandaging the wounded people.

  Nidor lifted his eyelids. The world spun before his eyes, and his vision was foggy.

  “Nex...” he whispered with difficulty.

  “Welcome back!” Vesper said, dressing another man’s wound. “Wait, I’ll take care of the weaker ones first. I see you could survive an axe chopping...”

  “What’s with Nex?” the captain insisted.

  “You put him down,” the nighter replied obediently, plugging a multi-electrolyte IV into an A-Ts arm. “But the others took him, so maybe they considered him fit for revival. So I wouldn’t count on not meeting him again.”

  Nidor closed his eyes.

  “Failure, this whole mission was a big failure. Nothing has been achieved, even less than nothing. Only the bunch of unnecessary deaths, that’s all.”

  “At least they can’t count on us stepping down without a fight,” the lieutenant consoled him “And they also got screwed. The general heavily wounded, if not dead, almost the whole team eliminated... It’s not that bad, really.”

  The other one sighed not saying anything.

  Vesper ended with the last wounded A-T. He stood up, and walked over to Nidor. He began to dress his wounds.

  “How do you think they got away?” He asked shortly.

  “Same as they got in,” the other one said, succumbing to treatment without protest. “It would be enough for them to have a plane or helicopter. It dropped them two, three hundred yards up, then it could circulate around as much as he wanted. There is Babice Airport beyond Vistula, so nobody would be surprised to see an aircraft in the area. And then he descended a little... Flying up a hundred yards is nothing for renegades.” He paused, exhausted.

  “Anyway, Nex will fall out of the game for some time,” Vesper said. “Aranea will not take up battles herself, I’m sure. We’ll gain a little time to prepare better. Well, and we have new friends, without a doubt.”

  He looked up. Slowly, stumbling with every step, Crumbly walked toward them. He was breathing heavily, with a clear difficulty, blood colored his lips with every wheeze. Probably he had a broken rib, possibly other injuries on top of that.