The Omega Device (The Ha-Shan Chronicles Book 1)

by S. M. Nolan

  The door opened, stopped Maggie mid-stride. She turned on-heel to see the Reverberant. Hunched over as an old man might be, he shuffled in to the table and motioned them down with a robed arm. The door closed and Maggie sat, on-edge from the long wait. Russell slid from the bed to her side.

  When they'd settled, the Reverberant began, “I have decided.” Maggie leaned forward anxiously. “While I do not believe you fully comprehend the task you have proposed, you are, in some ways, correct. You two will find the weapon if you can, and destroy it.” His hand rose to retain Maggie's silence. “But you will go alone, and receive no further aid from the Order.”

  “What?” Russell asked, astounded.

  “You're sending us out there alone?” Maggie asked critically. “Are you mental?”

  Neither his tone nor eyes shifted, “You are allowed to leave, let come what may. Most would not be granted such clemency.”

  Russell was calm but caustic, “You're sending us to our deaths. You must see the logic in what we're proposing.”

  The Reverberant spoke sorrowfully, “I do, but if you are to destroy the weapon the Order cannot be allowed to aid you. It is in our interests to preserve the weapon. It is part of the legacy we have been charged with. Our guardianship of that legacy has not changed.”

  “If you recognize the threat you should be helping,” Maggie argued.

  “Such quick reversal of decisions may ultimately threaten what remains beyond the weapon. Our ways are not to be taken lightly. Perhaps, if you fail, we may yet destroy it ourselves. Perhaps not. For now, the Order must remain true to its virtues. I have made my decision. You may leave with your lives, and plans, intact.”

  Maggie was silent, flicking her lip-ring with a fury. Russell frowned at her, “It's the best we're going to get, Maggie.”

  The Reverberant remained silent. Maggie's eyes darted from him to the center of the table. Her tongue rolled the ring through her lip; Russell may have been right, but it didn't make it easier to accept. The Reverberant's admission notwithstanding, if the Order remained unwilling to see the threat, it might not survive long enough to reconsider.

  She exhaled stubbornly through her nose, “Fine, we'll go alone.”

  The Reverberant bowed his head. “You may rest here until morning. Be prepared to depart then. You will be escorted to a place nearby where you may find your ultimate destination.”

  “What's nearby?” She asked, confused.

  “An old hide-away, long abandoned,” he replied.

  “How's that helpful?” Russell asked.

  “There may be clues as to the weapon's location there.”

  “So you don't know where it is?” The Reverberant remained silent. “Not much to go on.”

  The Reverberant stood, “Perhaps, but it is all you shall be given. May fortune favor you.”

  With these final words he stepped to the door and knocked. It swung wide for him. He disappeared. The door closed with a resounding thud. Maggie sighed, sat on the bed.

  Russell sank beside her, lifted her hand to slide his fingers between hers, “It's not enough.”

  “It's all we have, and I'm done with… them,” she said, raising their hands to her face. “We know what needs to be done, we'll figure the rest out.”

  She sighed, pulled him back onto the bed to lay with him. He settled behind her, pulled her closer. His hot breath graced the back of her neck as his arm tightened around her mid-section. Maggie sensed doubts coursing between them, but knew there was little to be done about them. She focused on his breaths, let them draw her mind away.

  20.

  Slaughter

  October 5th

  6:00 AM

  Tibetan Protectorate Temple

  Distant gunfire ripped Maggie from her trance. She strained her ears; a second round hammered with opposing echoes, deeper and nearer.

  Russell was up, fists clenched, “What's going on?”

  Maggie tip-toed to the door, pressed her ear against it. Dozens of feet sprinted through the Temple. The sudden discharge of weapons broke to a frenzied key sliding into a lock. The old woman pushed her way in, managed to balance their belongings and weapons. She spoke in hurried Chinese, handed their gear over

  “Xièxiè.”

  The old woman rushed off. Maggie tossed Russell his rifle and bag, thrust her vest on. She checked her rifle's magazine, slammed it in place and racked the bolt.

  “They're evacuating. The guards are holding them off, but we need to leave. Any Ideas?”

  Russell adjusted his vest, zipped it, “Escape tunnel.”

  Maggie affixed her Lash, “Go.”

  Russell took point out the door. An automatic rifle chattered from the entryway, the temple nearly empty. He crept to the edge of the wooden divider. Fire spit inward at from the forward corridor. Blasts muffled dying screams and advanced on the inner-sanctum.

  Maggie crouched beside Russell, peered out past him and the divider. Several Protectorate guards spilled in from the corridor, fleeing in stumbling terror.

  Russell was disgusted, “This isn't an attack. It's a slaughter.”

  “We need to go before they get in.”

  Russell nodded to the pit in the room's center. “Stay low. I'll cover you while you move up.” Maggie readied herself. “Go!”

  She sprinted to the rear of the massive stone pit, still hot from coals within. She knelt, rifle on the door. Russell hurried over. A burst of fire spewed in from the darkness. Two Protectorate fell ahead.

  Russell whispered, “Head for the tunnel.”

  “We have to help them,” she argued, her rifle fixed.

  “We can't take them, there's no way—”

  Maggie ignored him, fired into the darkness. A yell preceded a figure charging in at them. Maggie ducked.

  “You bastards!” Hoff yelled, firing wildly into the room.

  Russell chanced a look, saw blood gleaming along Hoff's arm. He charged a Protectorate guard with a knife drawn. Russell breathed, squeezed off a burst. Hoff fell sideways, bleeding out. The guard stumbled backward, fell to his rear. His mouth hung open, body paralyzed.

  “Kuài pǎo!” Maggie shouted.

  He scrambled to his feet, sprinted for the escape tunnel. Muzzle flashes tracked his progress in pulverized stone. Wood splintered in his wake. He ducked into the tunnel as a hail of fire chewed at the stone-corner.

  West and Reese advanced from the corridor. Maggie forced them into wooden cover with a few bursts. Reese peered from its edge. Russell jerked Maggie down. Ammunition whizzed past, hit the temple's rear-wall.

  “Stay down!” He yelled through his teeth.

  He took a knee, forced Reese deeper into cover. Maggie wasn't listening. Her body was flooded with adrenaline. She readied herself, “Cover me.”

  Russell ducked to reload. West appeared, prepared to move. Maggie stayed him with a burst, then slung her rifle over her back, removed the TRP with one hand, the other propped on the floor.

  “Now!”

  Maggie bolted, her gravity low. Russell rose. A continuous blast spewed from his weapon. A pistol countered. He ducked, searched for its impact, spied Maggie dodging between a divider and the tunnel's entrance. She tried to skirt the entrance; the pistol cracked, splinters showered over her.

  Russell spied the raised pistol in Hoff's hand. Blood glistened from the corners of his mouth, dripped to a pool forming on his abdomen. Russell sneered, fired a death-burst into Hoff. Something metal impacted the ground beside the pit.

  The world slowed. He watched a round, green ball, roll to a rest against his foot. His eyes widened, reflexes activated. He lobbed it back, flattened himself behind the pit. The grenade exploded mid-air. The shock-wave rocked the temple. Flames and shrapnel showered the area. Dust spilled from the high-ceiling.

  A door-way opened ahead of Russell, within a divided section. Two guards stepped out, clad in full body armor with light machine guns. The Reverberant appeared behind them, small and frail.

  The
LMGs chattered angry, automatic fire to suppress West and Reese. A second grenade thumped between them. A guard shoved the Reverberant back into his room, pulled the door shut. A pistol shot rang from Maggie. Reese yelped.

  The grenade ignited, tore the armored men asunder. The wooden dividers cracked, split. The loft caved inward, collapsed atop them. Burning wood spewed heavy smoke through the temple. Flames engulfed the Reverberant's door.

  Russell winced, but took advantage of the confusion to sprint for Maggie. He grabbed her, pirouetted to throw her into the tunnel, and raised his weapon. He back-stepped inside with a trail of fire.

  Reese shrieked, “I'll get you for this bitch. I swear I'll cut your fucking—”

  Something thumped, cut her short.

  They fled for the trap-door, emerged into a still-dark sunrise, panting and refusing to stop. They ran until the sun hung just above the trees.

  Maggie's adrenaline gave out with her legs. She slumped, caught herself on a tree, struggled to breathe.

  “Rus—Russell!” She managed to shout, stopping him a few feet ahead.

  He turned back, panting and covered in thick sweat, “You. Alright?”

  She swallowed hard in a dry throat,“Where the hell are we?”

  “Maybe… a m-mile from the temple?”

  “And we have no idea where that is,” she gasped.

  She shifted to lean back against the tree, dropped her pack on the ground. Russell dug for the map. She retrieved the small device from a pocket, wiped sweat from her face. A button on its side revealed a smaller, more detailed map designating their location.

  Russell unfolded the map to match it with the device. A large X had been drawn to the northeast, likely by the Reverberant or one of his people.

  “I guess this is where he meant for us to go,” Russell said. He folded down the map to display only the encircled temple, and the Reverberant's X.

  She took a heading from the device's compass, “At least we know where to go now—sort of.”

  “We're roughly here,” he said, miming a small oval on the map. “If the GPS is right, we're only a few hours walk from the area he's marked.”

  Maggie nodded, finally regaining her breath. She shot him a look, “You think he made it out?”

  Russell frowned. She focused intently at a tree-trunk: she knew the Protectorate would die-out without shifting its priorities, but she never imagined it happening right in front of her. What she'd said was meant to a be metaphor, not a bout of prescience.

  She heaved a sigh, slid her pistol into its holster, then removed the rifle from her back to check its magazine. She slapped the magazine back in place, “C'mon, they can't be far behind.”

  Russell directed her through thick, forested terrain with the GPS. The Earth sloped upward before leveling for a few minutes, then rose again. The pattern randomly repeated as their altitude gradually increased.

  The forest came alive in the morning air. Birds pursued them or stood sentinel in the tree-tops to decry their advance. The sun shifted with their progress, marking the change of early to late-morning.

  The ground began to level out once more. Maggie slowed to a stop beneath a canopy of pines, sat against a rock to catch her breath.

  “Russell, where the hell are we going?”

  He sat beside her, removed his canteen to hand it over. He felt more lost than ever. “Wherever the map leads, I guess.”

  “Why?” She asked, more of their logic than their direction.

  He thought on it, gave up, “I don't know.”

  She exhaled heat to take another drink then swallowed hard and flicked her lip ring, “I understand we're looking for clues to the weapon, but where is it?” Russell shrugged. “Exactly. We have no idea where to look. If this doesn't help we. are. screwed.”

  “If Omega attacked, and the Protectorate gave us back our gear, the Reverberant must've known we wouldn't make our transport. He'd have known we needed the direction he'd promised, right?”

  She handed back the canteen, “He did agree to set us on the trail.”

  He wiped sweat from his forehead, took another drink. “So it stands to reason he wouldn't send us off pointlessly. I don't know where we're going, but he must've sent us there to find help.”

  Maggie tried to comprehend his logic, but her head ached from exertion. The pain emanated from the wound in her skull in waves. They rippled over her forehead, made her face and eyes sore. She cleched her eyelids to rub away tension, heard Russell stand and adjust his bag.

  He slung his rifle over a shoulder. “I may be wrong,” he admitted. “But he seemed to want to help. The Order at large just couldn't be allowed to change so drastically so quickly.”

  Maggie took Russell's hand as he offered it, stood with a grunt. They began walking at a steady pace. Russell directed her silently as she spoke.

  “So, you think he wanted us to go… wherever we're headed, to find information to destroy the weapon, despite refusing to order it? Then, when the temple was attacked he ensured it by marking the map?”

  He slid the GPS into his vest, “I sincerely hope so.”

  Maggie sighed, disappointed and defeated. At every turn, she'd felt her grasp closing atop the ladder's final wrung. Instead of emerging over its top, she slipped, fell, only to look up and see the ladder had grown.

  She was physically and emotionally exhausted. Eternally an artist, she was at odds against everything she'd encountered. From one moment to the next, she wasn't sure what to do.

  The ground began a steep slope upward again as Russell spoke, “Nearly there now.”

  Each step became heavier than the last. “Good.”

  The slope evened at a trodden, dirt path. They stopped to get their bearings. Russell cross-checked the map with the device.

  He ran his fingers over it in confusion, “This is it?”

  “What?” Maggie was instantly furious. She clenched her fists, let out an angry scream. “What the fuck!?”

  “Maggie.”

  Her voice apexed in a loud, angry accent, “No, Russell don't fucking start!”

  “Maggie.”

  “I'm tired of this shit!”

  “Maggie!”

  She bellowed a roar, gripped her rifle, and sprayed a burst of rounds into a nearby tree. Russell froze, stunned. Maggie stared at the mauled tree-bark, her chest heaving. She was instantly ashamed, but more-so terrified that her anger had manifested so physically. Her hands trembled, the rifle with them. She tried to steady herself, regain her composure.

  Russell was gentle, “Maggie.”

  “What?” She blurted, verging on tears.

  He held up the device; a new, blue icon pulsed atop the map. She was frozen in terror, mortified by her unnecessary rise. She turned away, silently tearing up. She closed her eyes, forced the tears down her cheeks.

  A part of her was beginning to devolve, fade into nothing. The warriors' images on her arm flashed through her mind, imbued with a strength she could only marvel at. Had they ever truly existed? How? How could they have lived with death always a step behind? Even if they had, was she truly capable of such strength? Could she ever be?

  Russell touched her arm, maneuvered her around toward his chest. A moment of silence gave way with Maggie clearing her throat.

  “How far is it?”

  “An hour's walk, but we can wait if—”

  “No.” Her eyes darted to the tree. “No, I just… I'm fine now.”

  “Maggie, if—”

  “Russell, I'm fine. I want to finish this. Then I'll let it out.”

  They locked eyes for a moment. Russell saw her fear return. She was close to a breaking point, losing part of herself to a painfully dark abyss. It was more than reasonable; for it to have lasted so long was admirable, but it didn't change what was happening. For a person new to combat and its chaotic stress, there was no wonder she didn't recognize the true toll of strength.

  Russell admired her innocence, its sheer perseverance, but it couldn't s
urvive if she intended to. The abyss was simply too strong. He sensed that she knew it now, but she had to feel it.

  He took her hand, “Maggie, listen. This is real.”

  She began to turn, “Russell, I'm not—”

  He tugged at her arm, “This is important. You need something to fight for, something stronger than me, or the shop, or anything nameable. You need to find it in yourself. You're a human being. No matter what, when put under this stress, we need something to keep us going. Something that comes from within. All of us. I won't be enough. Find it, Maggie. Please.”

  Their eyes met once more. She searched his soft expression for any hint of insincerity, found herself reflected in his eyes, empty of anything but the goal ahead.

  It was no different now than it had ever been. She'd always focused on the goal, whatever it might be, then when she reached it, she merely set her sights on the next. She'd never learned to enjoy moments, or take meaning from them. Now, as she considered her current position, she saw them for what they were; life.

  Even amid the madness around her, she was living, traveling where others had not, experiencing the spectacular and extraordinary. She'd fought to find a bright side, never once considering a moment's value as brightness.

  Were she to survive, would she look back, say she had missed the beauty around her? Would she remember these days as singularly defining moments of life, or detriments to an incomplete whole? Could she truly feel flying over Tibet, through a raging storm, was worthless? Or a breathtaking approach over Guam was merely a means to an end?

  The answers felt obvious. She took a deep breath. The fire inside her still struggled to survive, thrive, but she sensed life fueling its flame, infecting its existence. The growing affection between them didn't hurt. Tinder shifted, momentarily fanned the flames' choking desperation, and a long-dormant love emerged—love for herself, for life.

  She looked to her feet, considered what more might lay ahead. Her eyes rose to meet Russell's and he saw the shift in her. Though she still stood on a precipice's edge, she'd managed a graceful balance.