‘Sanctuary is a dangerous place,’ Samson said, ‘landslips happen all the time down here.’
‘Our scans showed traces of explosives at the scene.’
‘Did they?’
‘And the back-up receiver has mysteriously disappeared.’
Samson didn’t care what they thought, they couldn’t touch him and they knew it, not with the thousands of soldiers at his back.
Ophion stepped alongside him and lowered his voice. ‘Don’t go anywhere alone, Colonel.’
‘Threaten me again,’ Samson said as Ophion walked away, ‘and I’ll chop your fucking head off.’
Ophion paused to glance back over his shoulder. ‘Advice is not a threat, nor is the fact that you won’t make it out of Sanctuary alive.’
S.I.L.V.E.R.’s leader strode away leaving Samson fighting the temptation to shoot him dead. Why shouldn’t I? he asked himself. Nexus would be the first to attack from behind. Assassins are born cowards. Just do it. Samson reached for his replacement rifle, which was attached to his armour’s back-plate.
‘Colonel,’ an engineer said, breaking Samson’s preoccupation.
Ophion drifted out of sight and the chance had gone. Why not give the order to kill them? Samson thought. Thousands against twelve. He liked those odds. He’d heard the stories, though, much like anyone else who’d served for long enough. S.I.L.V.E.R. never went down without a fight. At least one of them would be carrying enough explosive to collapse two square miles, so even in defeat they made sure their job was completed; either that or retribution was served. Samson’s anger rose. They lack honour as well as courage.
‘Colonel,’ the man said again, ‘the mortar’s ready to go.’
‘Then what are you waiting for?’
‘This is the third attempt. From our visual scans and the previous failures, we believe the target zone is too unstable to withstand the impact and sustain the weight of the cable.’
Samson focused on the man before him. ‘And?’
‘We also think a third strike might bring down the whole structure. It’s too risky.’
‘Alternatives?’
‘We could go over one at a time.’
‘How long would it take?’
‘A few days, considering all the supplies we’d need.’
Samson shook his head. ‘Unacceptable. What else?’
The man swallowed. ‘There are no other options. It’s the only place in range with access to the next chamber.’
‘You’re saying give up and go back?’
‘We can’t see any—’
‘Fire the damn mortar.’
‘Yes, Colonel.’
The man saluted and hurried away while Samson stood by, waiting.
Soon after, an explosion thundered out and another spear soared out into the dark to punch home into the Anakim building over a mile away. The massive winch whirred into reverse, bringing the nano-fabricated cable taut, and the engineer gave the all-clear.
Samson frowned and summoned one of his Terra Force captains.
‘Sir?’ the man said.
‘What’s the hold up? Why aren’t our men ready to cross?’
‘Word is the anchor’s not stable; no one wants to go over.’
‘Want? This is the U.S. Army; there is no want, only do.’
‘Yes, sir, but the engineers are predicting the same result. We’ve already lost many men,’ he indicated the mounting body bags from the most recent incident, ‘morale is low – would it not be wiser to try an alternate route?’
‘So you’re the hold up?’
‘No, sir.’
Samson glared at him.
‘Yes, sir, but—’
Samson pushed the man aside and moved to the nano-cable. He gestured to an engineer. ‘Hook me up.’
The man bobbed his head and clipped a small line from the large cable onto the inbuilt harness of Samson’s armour and the exoskeleton within. Giving the connection a couple of yanks to ensure it was secure, the engineer then handed Samson two attachments for his boots. ‘These will allow you to walk on the cable; each step you take will slide your foot forward on either side. If you need to unhook, just use your visor control system.’ He stepped back to allow the colonel to mount the thick, wire rope.
Samson clipped his boot adapters onto the cable and gave the signal to load up the equipment behind.
A multi-wheeled rail rolled forward and another two lines secured him to the rolling stock. Samson braced himself against the resistance.
‘Colonel,’ the chief engineer said, moving to his side, ‘the equipment sled is designed to be pulled by two people, preferably three.’
Samson leaned lower and grasped the cable. ‘Release the brakes.’
The man’s expression was dubious, but he nodded and gave the signal. Samson leant into the harness, tensed his stomach and gave a mighty heave with his arms, while forcing his legs straight. The sled inched forward and Samson repeated the process and, like a strong man completing a truck pull, he dragged the weight behind him slowly gaining momentum. By the time he was halfway across, he was labouring. Sucking in air and expelling it in a cycle of pain, he grimaced and used his visor to redirect power into the exoskeleton to help him continue. Minutes felt like hours and he gritted his teeth. I will not fail. I will not fail! I WILL NOT FAIL!! A picture of Ophion’s face appeared in his mind, fuelling his anger and propelling him on.
More agonising moments passed before the crumbling architecture of the Anakim monument came into view.
Loose sediment fell from around the cable’s anchor point and the engineer spoke through Samson’s helmet speakers. ‘Colonel, it’s holding, but the closer you get, the greater the shear factor. The load is reduced, as there’s one man instead of three, but you need to act fast.’
A crack appeared in the building’s stone façade and every step closer increased its size. Warning symbols danced across Samson’s visor and he slowed to a stop, his chest heaving.
‘Sir,’ the engineer said, ‘you need to move … NOW!’
The cable shuddered and a web of smaller cracks spread out from the first. Samson stood up, detached his safety cord and secured a winch line from his armour to the cable.
‘What are you doing?!’ the engineer said.
Another shudder set the cable rocking; Samson clipped another winch line to the sled and redirected all the power from his armour into the exoskeleton. A loud rumble swept over him and the rock face gave way with a tremendous groan. With nowhere else to go, Samson powered forward into falling chaos.
Chapter Seven
Alongside Dresden Locke and Jefferson Church, Riley Orton watched Samson’s distant form disappear in a cloud of debris. ‘The man’s insane,’ he murmured with a shake of the head.
Locke huffed. ‘Don’t say that to his face.’
‘No chance of that happening,’ – Jefferson adjusted his visor’s settings – ‘he’s a goner.’
Riley spotted movement in the haze. ‘I wouldn’t be so sure of that.’
♦
Stones clattered off Colonel Samson’s armour as he fired a grappling hook into the Anakim structure and leapt from the sinking cable and onto falling rock. As he plunged down, his line snapped taut and he swung out into nothing before dropping down onto dusty ground. He rolled to a stop and activated his radio. ‘Release the clamps!’
On the other side of the chasm the engineer pressed a button and the freefalling equipment separated from the cable. Leaping up, Samson wrapped the screaming winch lines around a massive pillar and braced for impact.
‘Colonel,’ the engineer said, ‘the weight’s too great, you’ll be dragged over the edge!’
Samson ignored him and activated his amour’s anchor protocol. Ten high tensile cables lanced out into the ground, locking him in place. The two winches reached maximum extension, halting the sled and cable’s downward plummet, and yanking Samson backwards as the cables extended from his armour to dampen the sudden weight from below. Pain
tore through his body as he was spread-eagled by the intense load, his every fibre and sinew stretched to breaking point. Like a pendulum, the equipment sled cut an arc through the air to smash through the wall of the Anakim building six storeys down. Released from half his burden, Samson detached a winch line using his visor and secured the second that held aloft the cable spanning the chasm.
With his muscles on fire from his brush with dismemberment, Samson worked his way down to the sled and unpacked the kit it had been transporting. Using the inbuilt manual, Samson set the system up while accounting for the increased gradient. A mile away, the chief engineer let out some of the giant nano-cable and prepared the mechanisms on their side.
‘The cable’s reattached,’ Samson said and pulled down a red lever on the platform he’d erected. Twenty pneumatic screws whirred into motion, burrowing down into the bedrock beneath. A red light atop each screw switched to green and the main cable pulled tight. ‘Landlocks deployed and secure.’
‘Stand back, Colonel,’ the engineer said, and gave the signal to his men to start the turbine. ‘Cannons firing in three – two – one … fire.’
Two thunderous blasts sent two rockets powering into the air, and behind them wires unfurled to drag a large, rectangular prism across the cable. The oblong device sped over the chasm, pulled along by the rockets. As it moved it deployed a flat platform in its wake, decreasing in size until the rockets fell away. This strange contraption continued to hurtle along the cable, reducing in size to a cube, before it slammed into the buffers on Samson’s side, then rebounded back the way it had come, its momentum undiminished. As it shot back across the divide, two sets of interwoven cables created sides to the newly formed base, and by the time it returned to its starting point, its function completed, the device had reduced to nothing.
Samson stepped onto the bridge they’d just created and gave the signal for the crossing to begin. A hundred commandos at a time made the trip across and after a thousand had passed over, a convoy of all-terrain vehicles followed, their snake-like yellow hides trundling along with the supplies that fed and watered the six thousand strong host. SED personnel came next, with the Deep Reach teams at their head, and close behind them followed Ophion and his S.I.L.V.E.R. mercenaries.
‘Time for dead weight to earn its pay,’ Samson said, as Ophion stepped down from the bridge.
S.I.L.V.E.R.’s leader swept past with his retinue and issued his commands. The elite team activated their advanced camouflage systems and slipped into the shadows like wraiths. Zhang Bai was the last to vanish from view. The Chinese assassin held Samson’s gaze with hate filled eyes, and a sneer of contempt twisted his lips as she pointed at him before following her colleagues into the black.
An officer approached. ‘Colonel, we’re ready.’
Samson pressed a button on his helmet and patched through to the reconnaissance units. ‘Send out the drones!’
On cue, a whir of electric motors buzzed to life and a horde of flying machines filled the air with tiny flashing lights. As one, they zoomed off into the pitch-dark corridors of Sanctuary, accompanied on the ground by their human masters.
‘If she’s out there,’ the officer said, ‘we’ll find her, Colonel.’
Samson rubbed at the stubble on his chin. ‘Send word to your men, ten thousand credits to the operator who finds her before S.I.L.V.E.R..’
The man failed to conceal a smirk. ‘Yes, sir, I’ll pass it on.’
‘Dismissed.’
The officer saluted and left Samson to his musings. When the woman is found, he thought, S.I.L.V.E.R. will try to take charge of her and the artefacts she holds. And he knew if he was to secure the pendant, he couldn’t allow that to happen. ‘Lieutenant.’ Samson called over a veteran Terra Force commando, a man he’d fought beside in years past. A man he knew he could trust.
‘Colonel?’
‘Handpick a hundred of the best killers in the detachment and rendezvous with the drone operators in teams of ten. If they get the opportunity to be alone with any S.I.L.V.E.R. operative, take them out.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Make it clean, no traces.’
‘Their leader?’
‘No,’ – Samson stared out into the darkness – ‘he’s mine.’
Chapter Eight
A white light pulsed bright in the dark, a tiny star in an ocean of night. A man knelt down next to it and scanned its transmitter with a sweep of a handheld device.
‘Well?’
Riley Orton stood up and faced Dresden Locke, his expression mixed. He nodded.
Locke turned to the SFSD commando at his side. ‘Go tell the colonel the waypoint beacon is confirmed. We’ve intercepted the route to the temple.’
The man disappeared back down the tunnel to inform his commander and Riley removed his helmet as Jefferson drove a Centipede up alongside them, its main beams lighting up the rocky terrain.
‘Now all we have to do is find the needle in the haystack,’ Locke said.
Riley turned to Jefferson. ‘Any news?’
The Deep Reach archaeologist shook his head. ‘Not yet.’
Riley sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. How long has it been since Sarah passed this way? he wondered. Has she even made it this far? Is she hurt somewhere, alone and lost? The thought distressed him more than he cared to admit.
Residual scans had revealed nothing, but that meant squat, Sanctuary was notorious for playing havoc with human tech. No, it was up to the old fashioned trackers to locate her trail. So far none of the reconnaissance teams had reported back and no one had seen hide nor hair of the S.I.L.V.E.R. operatives.
Riley gazed up at the ceiling of the tunnel, which sparkled in the light, and the memory of a conversation he’d had with Sarah played back through his mind’s eye.
‘Have you noticed how the ceilings of the chambers sparkle when the light catches them?’ he’d said.
Sarah craned her neck to look at the phenomenon. ‘I suppose so, yes.’
‘It’s not a result of the geological composition of the rock, but because across virtually every chamber ceiling, tunnel and cave roof a translucent material has been applied.’
‘What sort of material?’
‘The scientists aren’t sure what it is, only what it does, or did.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Produce light; in fact they think it functioned much like our dome back at base, but instead of being localised, like the dome, it provided light for the whole of Sanctuary.
‘What, on every level?’
‘Yep, every level. Well, every level we’ve surveyed so far has the same feature, so it’s assumed it goes everywhere.’
‘That’s incredible. So gigantis had the ability to create huge swathes of plant life underground, along with simulated sunlight too.’
Riley gave her a strange look. ‘Gigantis?’
‘Sorry – yes – that’s what I, and many others who theorised and promoted the existence of the Anakim, named them, Homo gigantis. And yes, I know, everyone down here calls them giganthropsis or Anakim.’
‘Gigantis,’ he said, trying out the word again. ‘I like it, rolls off the tongue better than giganthropsis.’
‘I know, doesn’t it?’ she enthused, pleased he agreed with her own viewpoint.
‘It wasn’t just plant life, though,’ Riley continued, ‘many small animal fossils have been found down here, too, and there are still many insects and different types of algae clinging onto life in certain places we’ve surveyed.’
‘Amazing,’ Sarah had said, excited at the prospect.
Riley smiled, remembering the look of wonder on her face. Such unadulterated passion; he’d never met anyone that felt the same as he did about archaeology, it consumed her as much as it did him. Yes, perhaps he was biased by their mutual physical attraction, but it was more than that, or at least he’d thought so at the time. On his side of the – was it even a relationship? Their time together was so brief, it didn’
t seem to be the appropriate term. A fling, maybe? A friendship, he decided, yes, it was a friendship first, of that I’m certain. On his side it had been more than lust, he’d felt a connection he’d never experienced before. He’d been with his fair share of women, but all paled in comparison to Sarah. That she had broken the sanctity of trust between them had bitten deep. She’d risked everything he’d helped her achieve in her short time in Sanctuary, flinging it back in his face with a metaphorical slap; and stealing his multi-function card to carry out her misdeeds had sealed the deal. Did she care so little for me? He didn’t want to believe it, but there was no other alternative. She knew what the consequences of her actions would be, for her and for him, but none of that had deterred her. She’d had her way with him one last time, a farewell lay before leaving him to suffer the consequences. Anyone else would be forgiven for hating her, for cursing the day they’d ever met, but Riley couldn’t bring himself to be consumed by such negativity – by hate. It wasn’t in his nature. He just felt a pervasive sadness that had left an invisible scar on his soul.
He thought he’d known her, understood her. And in many ways he had, but her actions had confounded him. Perhaps I never knew her at all. Perhaps the real Sarah was never unveiled and remained hidden behind a carefully tended wall of deceit. No, I can’t believe that – won’t believe that – I know genuine when I see it, hear it … taste it – he could almost feel her lips on his.
A fuzz of radio chatter brought Riley out of his reverie.
Locke put a hand to his helmet and cocked his head to listen. ‘They’ve found her.’
‘What?!’ Riley said, suddenly anxious.
Locke held up his hand as he concentrated on the garbled message. ‘No – wait, they’ve found … something. They’re calling everyone back.’
Grumbling, Jefferson manoeuvred the Centipede back round and Locke hopped onto the back, catching a lift, while Riley walked behind, his stomach clenched in fearful anticipation. And there he remained, trapped in his trancelike state, until they rejoined the masses congregating in a large chamber a mile from where they’d bridged the chasm.
Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2) Page 5
