by Matt Novotny
“Dat be an overload, or I miss my guess,” Amos said.
“Landry! Report!” Amos said.
“All clear!” Landry replied. “Ours gave up the same time yours did.”
Rains looked at the doors the Blevin had been guarding. Stenciled across the doors were the words “Reactor Control #4.”
He triggered the door controls.
“Let’s finish this,” he said.
* * * * *
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hope Station
Interior
“Oh-one, we have oh-two and oh-three at the doors to the station proper. Opening now,” Rikki said.
“Roger, oh-two. We’ll make our way to your position. Junkyard out.”
Rikki brought up an image on her slate, then pointed. “Three-one open the door. As soon as there is room, oh-two will go through. Two-two lead the way.”
“Aw, yeah. Green Machine ready to roll!” Florida Eagle took his place near the door. Sandman flanked him and the other two members of their squad followed close behind. Squad three, led by Scorch and Pulsar, stacked right behind second squad.
“Ready,” Green Machine said, echoed by everyone.
“Go!” Rikki commanded. Two CASPers pulled the door open with a loud groan and metallic pops as the internal locks were broken.
The corridor beyond was dark. As soon as it was open enough, Florida surged Green Machine forward and triggered his chest-mounted lights. Sandman did the same, and the pair pushed into the corridor. Third squad had just made it through the door when a flash from the end of the passage signaled they weren’t alone.
Laser fire erupted from concealed positions. Green Machine snapped his laser shield up in time to deflect the brunt of laser fire. Next to him, Sandman wasn’t as fast, and his CASPer was struck by several high energy beams, one directly into where Steve’s head would have been in the cockpit. Turned as he was behind his laser shield; Florida watched his best friend get shredded.
Pulsar and Scorch returned fire from behind their laser shields, aiming blindly at the muzzle flashes.
“Clear the door!” Hurricane Cindy stepped through and released a double pod of rockets. Based on the old MightyMouse rocket pods, the six-centimeter missiles blazed down the hallway and the CASPers were rocked back by the detonations as the lasers were silenced.
“Report!” Rikki demanded.
“Sandman’s gone,” Florida said flatly.
“Two-three-three and two-three-four are dead. Tansil and Scorch are okay,” Michael Barr replied.
“Move up. There will be time to honor our comrades later,” Rikki said softly.
The armored doors at the far end of the corridor had been scorched, but were otherwise unharmed, though there wasn’t much left of the Blevin that had ambushed them.
“This should open to the spine of the station,” Rikki said. She tapped her slate again. The connection to the battlenet was still offline. Their local net was still functional. “Same plan. Be ready for them this time.”
This time, Florida held his MAC up to the split in the door. As soon as it was wide enough, he put the barrel through and started looking for targets. A Blevin stood up with an anti-armor rocket launcher. Green Machine rocked with the MAC’s discharge and the Bevin’s torso vanished in a spray of gore. “Whoo!” Florida yelled. The door opened further, and he stepped into a woodchipper of enemy fire that decimated the front of his CASPer. Those behind saw the big mech jerk as it was hit. In seconds, rounds and laser fire blasted through the back of the Olympian’s mech.
The other CASPers returned fire, looking for the enemy emplacements. Another CASPer was riddled with laser fire as it let loose a MAC barrage. It limped backward dragging a leg, its right arm hanging by connecting cables. “Two-four-three, combat ineffective,” she reported.
“Get back to the REX, Sharon. See if Repo can fix you up,” Nolan ordered her.
“Come on back, chere. I got you,” Remmy said.
Just then Rains popped onto comms through the static. “What’s the progress, Junkyard?”
“We are stuck in a kill-pocket and bogged down entering the spine.”
“Do what you need to do but get ‘er done. We are counting on you. Rains, out.” The signal disconnected with a loud pop.
“All right, you heard the man. We need to get moving,” Nolan said.
“Blood for blood!” Roadkill said and pounded on the bulkhead next to him. The cadence picked up and soon everyone was chanting and pounding on whatever was nearest. The vibrations shook the section of the station.
“I got an idea,” Tansil said over the din.
“Go, Pulsar. What’cha got?” Nolan said quickly. The chanting died, but the rhythmic pounding didn’t stop. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump.
“Well, they are set up tight like a hound on a ‘possum in a tree. They ain’t expecting Olympians,” Tansil explained. “So, let’s give them the Olympic Games.”
It took a moment, then Nolan got it. “But we didn’t bring the equipment for the Games.”
Michael Barr cut in. “I’m standing next to a very lovely piece of frame easily liberated from its place in the wall.”
Nolan laughed. “Do it!”
At that, the remaining Olympians directed their squad-mates in cutting free beams and squares of wall plating. While they worked, they heard sporadic fire from the CASPers standing watch.
“Okay, Sebastian. Can you get us some intel?” Nolan asked.
“It should be of moderate effort,” the Xiq’tal said and moved his bulk to the side of the door. “Okay, in three, two, one.” He stepped into the open doorway. As the defenders overcame their surprise, they started shooting at the massive creature. Sebastian flexed his legs, adjusting his height up and down erratically, throwing off their aim. He dodged away from the door with a sudden spring as the defenders finally got their crew-served weapons lined up. Several beams cut through the space Sebastian had just occupied. The smell of ozone drifted down the corridor.
Nolan grunted at the images of the defenders. He tapped the locations and transmitted it over the local net to the group. “Okay. If we are giving them Saturday Night, let’s go whole hog. Here is the lineup for the show. Pulsar and Roadkill, Tilt and Swampthing, Scorch and Hurricane Cindy, Ripper and Divot. Questions?”
“What about me?” Race asked.
“You and I go last,” Nolan said. “Everyone ready?” Hearing a chorus of yeses, Nolan flipped a switch. “Synchronizing external speakers. Let’s go.” He pressed play and ten different external systems blared. “Let’s get ready to rumble!” progressed into “Get ready for this.” Nolan grinned. He knew Race hated the old stuff. “Go!”
Like a runner at the starting blocks, Tansil stomped both feet onto his jumpjets and rocketed through the door. Deafening electronica blasted from his speakers as he slammed his right hand down on the blue button in his cockpit, igniting two thousand high-output LED strobes across the mech. He feathered the jet’s pedals and tucked his chin to do a perfect midair summersault. As Pulsar slammed down onto the deck, Tansil let fly two metallic squares like insane, CASPer-sized ninja stars. They flew directly into the crew-served weapons Sebastian had identified. The armor plating on the front of the weapons was meant for small-arms fire, not giant metallic projectiles. Pulsar cleared the door to the left, firing on the next position.
Capitalizing on the momentary blinding of the enemies by Pulsar, Roadkill ran through and chucked a three-meter-long section of beam like a javelin. The emplacement detonated from the kinetic strike as he cleared to the right.
Tilt and Swampthing both stepped up and threw their metal squares. While they weren’t as showy as Pulsar, both were as accurate. “Close counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and chopper toss,” Tilt chuckled as he let fly with his second square of destruction. They split and fired as they moved aside for the next pair.
Scorch hit his red toggle and, for a second, was coated in a foam which ignited as soon as he hit his
jumpjets to vault into the spine. The two scrap-metal beams he threw were coated with the same gel and became firebolts from the vengeful fire-deity. Blevin fled as both emplacements crackled with secondary explosions as munitions caught fire. Not to be outdone, Hurricane Cindy whipped into the corridor and threw two metal squares at the right-most emplacements, only hers flew flat, like frisbees, right at waist height. The Torvasi that had been shooting as the Olympians entered were messily decapitated. Cindy followed the projectiles and extended forked blades from each arm with a loud snap!
Ripper and Divot blasted through the door, each carrying two beams. As if they had practiced the move together a hundred times, they did a forward aerial cartwheel, jumpjets flaring, arms not touching the ground, and released the beams as their feet touched the deck. The velocity imparted to the beams was massive and both streaked forward, blowing through the fortified barriers the Blevin had set up. The barriers shattered, turning the debris into shrapnel. Another aerial cartwheel, and the second beams flew. Only this time they had both given the beams some side-english and they turned into spinning three-meter-bars of doom. Both slammed into barriers and knocked the defenders back. Ripper lifted a fist in victory.
The last heavy weapons emplacement remained untouched, and the crew recovered from the lights and fiery death to either side. Not able to see anything else, the crew trained the plasma cannon on the bright light and fired.
The room seemed to suddenly go dark as Pulsar winked out of existence in a discharge of plasma.
“Our turn,” Race said. He tapped his display and took over the remaining speakers. Ram Jam’s “Black Betty” erupted, heralding their arrival. Over the intro beats emanating from every speaker he said, “Romeo Bravo is in the house!”
Race stomped his jets and rocketed into the spine. He focused on the plasma cannon and hit it with two of the metal squares. He kept going past it, looking for the next target. He saw a pair of Zuul aiming a rocket at one of the Olympians and let fly the last square he was carrying in a frisbee toss with. It plowed through the Zuul in a fountain of blue blood. He was transfixed at the sight, but Junkyard pushed him to the side. A beam flashed through the space between them.
Knocked to his senses, Race let loose with his MAC at the heavy laser team. He must have scored a hit on the power pack because the crew erupted in an orange-green flame. “Thanks, Junkyard.”
“Keep moving,” Nolan told him. “We ain’t done yet.” He pointed down the spine. They could see Torvasi and Blevin retreating to locations further back. A rocket flew down the corridor and knocked Scorch out of the air.
“Rains, we are at the front door and pushing forward,” Nolan said. He could see the rest of the CASPers moving forward. Armor status indicators were quickly shifting from green to amber, and red in some instances. “Let’s move up,” Nolan said into the command net.
Race nodded and triggered his play list. Guns N’ Roses’ “Welcome to the Jungle” became the anthem of destruction as the three groups of Olympians surged forward.
* * *
Hope Station
Reactor Control Room Four
The reactor control room doors slid open, revealing a wide room with control banks on either side of the reactor, which was set in the corner of the room. A wide armorglass window was set in a retractable door that led to the fuel delivery dock.
Rains was brought up short at the sight of Bes and Sabine, each strapped to a plastic fifty-five-gallon barrel. A K-bomb was affixed to the top of the barrel with wires looped between the two barrels and connected with induction pads to Sabine’s and Bes’ foreheads.
Rains stopped by the door and opened up Bruno. He dismounted from the CASPer. “Bes? Sabine?”
“Jac-son? That you?” Bes asked weakly. He could see from where he stood that her face was covered with cuts and she was sitting in a pool of blood. His heart hammered in his chest, and he took a step toward her.
“That’s close enough, Jackson Rains,” came a deep booming voice from behind him.
He drew his pistol and pointed it as he turned toward the voice. There, Kr’et’Socae stood with Sin’Kura. Reflexively he shot them both in the span of a heartbeat.
Kr’et’Socae threw back his head and laughed as the bullets ricocheted off armorglass and bounced around the control room. “As with everything, Rains, you think like the primate you are. It is one of the reasons I’ve been able to manipulate you so well.”
Sounds of fighting came from the corridor, but suddenly stopped with a crump from a grenade launcher.
“Well, this primate has pretty well kicked your donkey ass,” Rains said as he looked for a way to open the door. A panel on the far side of the room blinked amber. The panel closest to Rains had been destroyed.
“You have a choice, Rains. You can go to the panel and try to override the lockout to open the door and get to me,” Kr’et’Socae said. “Or you can put the chip in the reader by the Human females and deactivate the timer on the explosives.” He grinned maliciously until his pointed teeth showed. “Remove the leads attached to them and the explosives detonate. Try to disarm the explosives and my lovely assistant here will detonate them.” Kr’et’Socae pointed at Sin’Kura who waved a wired remote.
So much for jamming the signal.
“Give me the data and your females are safe. You’ve gone this far, you may as well finish it,” Kr’et’Socae said calmly.
“How do I know you’ll let us go rather than killing us all?” Rains asked. He glanced around, trying to figure out his options. There had to be a way to save them without giving up the data.
“The data reader is hard-wired to cut the timer on the explosives and render it inert. Besides—” he gave another toothy grin, “—why would I want to kill my newest agent?” He crossed his arms. “What will it be?”
Rains turned to Bes and Sabine. “How are you, Sabine?”
“I’m scared, Uncle Jackson. They hurt Nana Bes really bad.” Sabine sobbed. That stoked the anger in Rains to a new level.
“Bes? How you doin’?” Rains asked, his eyes searching her face for signs of how she was. She slowly raised her head. She was extremely pale, and her lips were blue. She didn’t have much time.
“Jac-son? Help Sabine,” she said weakly.
Rains took two quick steps toward her before Kr’et’Socae stopped him. “That’s close enough. Unless you are giving me what I want.”
Keeping his eyes on Bes, Rains reached into the thigh pocket of his gator-skin and held up a small data chip. “I have your deepest desires right here, Kr’et’Socae.” He glanced over his shoulder. “I read your file while I was on Kleve—not the redacted version.” He got Kr’et’Socae’s attention with that. Jackson turned to face him. “I read the Guild Master’s version.” Jackson took a sidestep toward the reader. “How you were set up by Breka.”
Kr’et’Socae slammed a fist against the armorglass. “I knew it! I knew that Selroth-birthsack had orchestrated the whole thing.” Kr’et’Socae was breathing heavily, his eyes unfocused as he replayed something from his past.
Rains took another step toward the device.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered to Bes and Sabine. He quickly looked over the reader. He saw cables running from it to the display on the bomb. Another cable went from the reader, entwined with a cable from the timer, and both led into a panel on the reactor control board.
That must be how they got the information.
Kr’et’Socae regained his focus. “The data, Rains. You know what they did to me. I need to make it right.”
Rains looked at his family, then hung his head. Defeated, he put the chip in the reader. The display flickered to life and the indicator flashed amber. While it read and decrypted the chip, he studied Bes and Sabine. Both were filthy and carried a pungent odor. “You’ll be out of this soon,” he said, smiling weakly at the pair. The reader emitted a cheerful tone and the indicator glowed green. At the same time, the timer on the bomb went dark.
Bes whispered to him, “What have you done, Jackson?”
He winked at her and hit her with an injector full of medical nanites. Her eyes widened at the sudden rush of the little machines as they worked to save her life. She moaned in pain as her wounds were stabilized. He hoped he was in time. He painted a hard expression on his face and turned around. He watched as Kr’et’Socae checked his slate and unplugged it from the wall.
Jackson could tell Kr’et’Socae was elated.
He stared at Kr’et’Socae and Sin’Kura through the armorglass of the hatch. Behind them he saw a short corridor with an open maintenance lock flanked by two of Sin’Kura’s Torvasi guards. Kr’et’Socae spoke through the comm.
“Nice doing business with you, Rains. You should look me up once you have your priorities straightened out.”
“You can count on it,” Rains replied. “It’s a shame you can’t stick around so we can finish our business now.” He hooked a thumb at Bruno. “I got all dressed up and everything.”
Kr’et’Socae let out a laugh. “You might even change my mind about Humans, Rains. I’ll be interested to see how you do now that you don’t have the Peacemakers to prop you up. If they catch you, ask for my old cell. The protein waffles aren’t bad.”
“That remains to be seen, Kr’et’Socae. My operation was clean, so unless you tell them, I’m still the golden boy,” Rains smirked. Time to drive a wedge. “By the time I catch up to you, I expect you to have better taste in minions. I have standards.”
Sin’Kura’s cybernetic eye blazed yellow. “Yes, we haf seen. Low ones. We are quite happy with our arrangement,” she said.
“Kitty, please. The Peacemakers don’t even have you in the top ten. Your attack on Earth has the government eating out of my hand for cleaning up what they look at as a terrorist threat. The Peacemakers are going to pin a medal on me for returning the F11 you stole in that bungled job on Gorton Station, and you killed a senior Besquith Peacemaker, so even if we don’t catch you, well, I’m sure the Besquith are a kind and forgiving people. You attract attention everywhere you go.”
