by Gavin Magson
“We aren’t a threat to you, miss, or the boy, we are just seeking refuge from the storm and were securing this building. We are mercenaries hired to eliminate those in the narcotics production trade, not civilians.” said Miles, talking softly to no appear too aggressive.
For a while the woman simply stared at the two men, her eyes wandering over their clothing, weapons, and generally dishevelled states. Neither men had shaved in an age, and in the small corridor it must have become apparent to her that washing was a rarity too.
“I have seen you before, in Six, except there were two more men with you then. Should I expect them to be coming up the stairs at any moment?”
“There is only one-man downstairs, Jerry, although he may have heard our talking by now, and I can’t say whether he will follow us up here. Ajax is not with us at the moment; he is back in the city.”
At the mention of Ajax’s name, the woman seemed to relax slightly, her stance adjusting such that Miles wasn’t expecting the loud roar of her hand cannon to signify the end of his existence.
“Did this Ajax ever mention the name of the woman who saved his life?” she asked.
Miles finally connected the large weapon, strong woman, and a story he only half remembered being told whilst he was busy drinking to cope with Jerry’s poor health and what he believed to be Ajax’s death. The problem was he couldn’t remember the name Ajax had mentioned.
“I’ll be honest with you, Ajax definitely mentioned you plenty when he told me how you had saved him from his pursuers, dragged him back to a cellar in order to patch him up, and made sure he found his way back to the guesthouse. Unfortunately, I had been drinking that day and cannot remember your name.”
The woman smiled a faint smile, obviously finding some humour in Miles’ words. “A typical merc, too busy drinking his pain away to experience, or remember, life. My name is Rose, and with the help of Ward, my son, we patched Ajax back together and, like you said, I did make sure he stumbled back to your guesthouse unharmed.
“I remember Ajax being a good man, I didn’t see any bloodthirst in him at least. You say that the three of you are looking for shelter from the storm, does that mean when it passes you’ll move on?”
“Aye, we can’t stay stationary for long in Seven, otherwise the gangs will outflank us, and it’ll be a real shitstorm to try and escape them unnoticed. I promise that we won’t pose a threat to the two of you, but we could help protect you whilst we are here.”
“I don’t need the protection, but a share of your food would be appreciated. So long as you and your men don’t prove those words of yours a lie we can cohabit in peace.”
Rose lowered the gun, resting its muzzle on the floor and finally relaxing in the presence of the mercenaries.
“I did not try to get through that door, so can’t vouch for us being alone. I can cover you from here if you’re wanting to secure.” offered Rose.
Miles nodded his appreciation and turned back to Rex, accepting that their options were simply between either trusting this woman or taking their chances with the hostile weather outside.
"Do you think we could move the jam if we pushed together?" asked Rex.
"Only one way to find out. Be prepared for anything once we are through and keep clear of her line of fire if engaged."
Taking up position either side of the wide door both men holstered their weapons and shifted their weight onto the back foot. Miles raised three fingers on his right hand and retracted them to count down. As he made a fist both he and Rex put all their weight behind a kick to the door, which saw it tear free from one hinge and twist inwards over the corpse that blocked their passage.
The usual sight to expect in Seven, debris, decay, and poverty, were nowhere to be seen. Instead the entire floor was open and filled floor to ceiling with rows of beds stacked three high. All were empty, only the strewn bedding and a single corpse hinted that the room had been recently lived in.
Rex and Miles headed in separate directions to survey the room for any useful materials, leaving the corpse untouched for the time being. A full lap of the room revealed outdated weaponry stored within cabinets towards the rear, with little ammunition to spare. A handful of metal helmets were stored separate to the weapons, along with blackened jackets that had thin steel plates sewn between the layers of fabric. An empty set of cabinets suggested that any food kept within the room had long since been taken.
"Guns are older than I am, and these jackets wouldn't stop most bullets out there today. Any idea what this place is?" asked Rex.
Miles walked back over to the corpse, motioning for Rex to follow him. On closer inspection the man was little more than a teenager, only a few whiskers on his face suggested he was past puberty. A military style helmet several sizes too big was strapped to his head, which must have been when the door had struck when opened. Despite the boy’s small stature, it was evident that he had substantial muscle mass, his visible skin was pulled taut over sinews. Miles rolled the corpse over so that they could both get a better look at the fatal blow.
"Notice how there was no exit wound on his jacket? Looks like someone used one of those old rifles to kill him. Didn't have time to even fasten the jacket in place, not that it would have protected him from thirty armed soldiers. I've seen several setups like this before, though those were off-world.
"Take some kids, preferably orphans so that no one comes looking for them, and train them up somewhere that no one is going to start asking questions about random shootings by a large group of men. The advanced muscle growth is thanks to some seriously potent drugs that have a list of side-effects longer than my arm. Probably one or more of those cooped up in here had battle fever from all the training, and I’d be surprised if he was the first one killed. Sometimes the local government had, unofficially, organised such training programs; more often than not it was someone trying to raise a personal army."
Whilst Miles explained his understanding of the peculiar sight Rex further inspected the body. He removed the helmet and found several old scars on the boy's neck and shaved scalp, most of which appeared accidental, except for the perfectly circular bald patch on the left side of his skull. The entire area of skin was scar tissue and a little wider than Rex's thumb.
"So, what do you make of this?" asked Rex, pointing towards the hairless circle.
"Never seen the scar from a mind-wipe before? Take away their memories and feed them all the same bullshit, soon enough you have loyal fighters who know no better. From the skin and dried blood under his fingernails I think our corpse put up a good fight before someone gunned him down."
Rex did not know what to make of the sight; right now there was little time to dwell on it. In his thirty-three years of life he had heard no mention of such a thing, though the revelation did not come as a shocking one.
“You can fill me in on this weird shit later tonight, right now we need to decide whether we risk the storm and find our way back to a safe house or secure this building until we can get ourselves out of this mess.” said Rex.
Miles nodded at the man and retrieved his tablet from inside his jackets pocket. When the screen illuminated, he was greeted with a multi-coloured map of sector Seven, the different colours representing safe houses, areas of danger, and those that had been liberated of gang control. It came as no surprise to either man to find themselves deep within an area of red, the nearest safe area at least three miles north of their position and considerably closer to the border with Six.
“Not a single merc nearby; just our fucking luck. It also means that none of those poor bastards escaped your grenade. I don’t suppose you have some outstanding favours that you could call in right now?” asked Miles.
“Nope, not so much as a clip of ammo. Storm looks like it is only getting worse out there, I don’t rate our chances of making the trek out of the area in these conditions. We could move over a couple buildings whilst the storm isn’t lethal, but we’d need to be careful not to walk right into an enemy
camp without noticing until it’s too late.”
Miles looked back at the room, hoping that something would catch his eye and show signs of promise. The room contained no windows in any of the external walls, there was a hatch in the roof that appeared to have long since rusted shut, and there one door that allowed entry. The only other route out of here in a hurry was to blow a hole in the wall or floor and pray no one was expecting that as an exit strategy.
“Fuck it, we will camp here tonight. I’ve some explosives left, we could always rig the doorway and spare some for an improvised exit. We should remain ready to leave for another hour or so, just in case there are any overly keen gang members in the area who think they are paid enough to risk this storm. Fetch Jerry, make sure to cover up any sign downstairs that we have been here. If you can find any food that’d be a real bonus; I doubt there is even a slice of mouldy bread left in this room.”
Rex managed to hold a neutral expression as he nodded to his leader and left the room, being mindful not to trod on the corpse as he did so. Rose had lowered her gun once more, satisfied that there were no others within the building.
Rex headed down the staircase and only when he was out of sight did he let the concern show; was Miles crazy? To stay so close to the building they had just fled could only result in two things from any pursuers, instant discovery for being so stupid as to hide this close or being overlooked because only a fool would stay within short walking distance. He could pray that the latter would be proven true, but prayer was something he had never held much truck with. No doubt the woman and boy had swayed Miles into taking that risk.
Despite stepping down the wooden staircase with soft footfalls Rex found the barrel of Jerry’s gun half raised and ready to turn his body into an unidentifiable red mush if he had been a threat. He did well not to show his momentary fear.
“Boss wants us to make camp here for tonight. I mentioned that the storm does not look like it will let up anytime soon, and three miles in these conditions to the nearest safe area is more than we can manage on foot. There is a body upstairs, just some boy forced into playing soldiers. Miles says this building was probably used to train a private army up for someone; your guess is as good as mine as to who that is.
“Oh, and we aren’t alone here. There’s a woman wielding a fucking cannon upstairs that I really advise you against crossing. She has a young son with her; apparently the two of them saved Ajax’s life back in Six when you were injured. Try not to spook Rose, otherwise we’d be lucky to find anything left of you should she let off that gun.”
Rex kept his eyes on the open doorway, convinced that at any moment a swarm of pursuers would storm the building. He was fearful of that being their only exit; he knew how much of a gamble staying here was.
“Rose, the stony hellcat that got the drop on a couple gang members and managed to drag that lump all the way to safety? Damn, a woman after my own heart. I’ll make sure to show her my appreciation, when we are settled.
“Can’t say I have ever heard of a private army being trained in the slums, seems messed up to me. What is it you need me to do now?” asked Jerry.
“Help me search for anything useful down here, food would be a big plus. There’s that much slush on the floor I doubt any perishables will have survived. Don’t turn your back on that doorway; Miles might think we’re relatively safe here, but I don’t want to be caught with our trousers down.” warned Rex.
The duo set about thoroughly searching between the decaying metal shapes, this time taking in their surroundings whilst being wary of any further attack. What Rex had initially dismissed as scrap metal turned out to be rusting exoskeletal suits, folded neatly into closely packed cubes and covered by old sheets that had blown free from the whistling wind.
As Jerry continued searching through the storage cupboards that lined the wall opposite to the staircase Rex took a better look at one of the suits. He had not seen a battle hardened one outside of the pricier weapon shops, certainly never worn in public, save for those designed to aid factory workers in lifting large loads. Even as a mercenary he would not be able to afford one of these exo-suits, and no prospective employer would take such a financial risk as to outfit his mercenaries with such expensive hardware.
He located the red release tag looped around a bar of metal and tugged until the suit unfolded vertically. The hydraulics carried on the process once the tag went slack in his hand. Soon the suit stood over seven feet tall, the once gleaming metal now tarnished by corrosion.
A readout panel built into the suit and angled upwards to face the wearer indicated that the suit was down to reserve power. Rex swore, which caused Jerry to surface from one of the cupboards with an armful of tinned food and a curious expression on his face.
“Is that what I think it is?” asked Jerry, stepping forward to run his spare hand along the right-hand gun arm of the suit.
“It has to be, what else could someone possibly think it is? Damn thing must be worth maybe one hundred thousand in its current condition, assuming we can get it working.”
“I can’t believe that no one has salvaged these, if the gangs got their hands on this stuff we would not stand a fucking chance. Are those rocket pods mounted on the shoulders?”
“Easy now, you’re getting a little excited here. The best way to find out is to try and fire this thing into life. Hold my gun and keep an eye on the doorway.” replied Rex.
Rex unclipped a catch on the left side of the suit, which allowed him to raise the torso and faceplate that protected the wearer. He was surprised to find that it was not difficult to do so; the hydraulics aided him in raising the heavily armoured frame, taking most of the weight. The two leg restraints were fiddlier, the catches on these resisted undoing; soon the suit was entirely open to him. Rex turned to face away from the suit and stepped up backwards into it, his feet resting inside of the plated foot supports.
He strapped down both feet before clipping the leg restraints back in place. When Rex stood himself up in the suit he flinched as two sets of straps unfurled across and down his chest, tightening up so that his body was pulled against the suits back plate.
“Well, what do I do now?” he asked when the suit appeared to have finished buckling him in place.
Jerry moved around the suit to get a better look at how it was assembled. He reached up to try and pull down the upper half of the suit, yet it only budged an inch before locking into place.
“I can’t see anything on the outside. Try putting your hands into the arms, there might be a switch somewhere inside.” suggested Jerry.
Rex pulled his arms up and squeezed them between the protective plates of the suit’s arms. His right hand met a moulded grip with a trigger just where his index finger wanted to sit, and three sets of buttons were set into the grip that his thumb gently ran along. Fear of accidentally launching a rocket whilst inside of the building prevented him from testing out any of these. His left hand slid into a fabric glove, and Rex felt a small pinch as a needle pricked his finger. He was about to remove his hand when the chest piece above him lowered swiftly, clipping into place with a snap.
The small display fired into life, along with the gentle whir of several motors shielded from sight by the metal plates that overlapped and covered the exoskeletons frame. It was difficult to see out of the narrow glass window set into the suit’s faceplate; since it had been collapsed for storage a thin layer of grime had built up on both the inside and out of the window and severely restricted his view. Rex turned his head to the right; the suit instantly followed his movement so that he was peering down upon Jerry.
“I thought you said that this thing was out of juice?” asked Jerry.
“I did not expect the reserve power to be enough for movement, it is hard to tell how long these things have been left to rust. I’m going to see if the legs will still operate, move back so that I don’t hit you; I can’t see much out of the glass.”
Jerry did as he was told and swiftly moved over
to the safety of the nearest wall. He watched on as the suit’s legs lifted, an increase to the faint whir of the motors coming just before each subsequent step of the suit. Jerry had expected the movement to be less fluid, more artificial as the suit played catch up to Rex’s movements. Instead it was seamless, no sooner did the signals travel from Rex’s brain to his muscles than the corresponding leg raised from the floor.
Rex walked the exo-suit along the building’s length, careful not to push it beyond its limits. Moving his right arm straightened out the gun, and a set of crosshairs appeared on the murky glass window. Rex tracked the arm left and right, watching as the crosshairs matched the movement. He had no way of knowing if the calibration was correct, but at close range the gun would tear through bodies with no need to rely on aiming. When he ceased stepping forward the suit’s legs came to a halt instantly, skidding along the half-melted snow.
Rex was now two steps from the open doorway and could see out into the snowstorm, although his vision was so limited by it he could barely make out the snow drift forming outside of the building to barricade them inside. He turned back, which took several steps in order to get the suit facing the opposite direction and headed to where he had started from. Jerry stepped out from the wall and waited for Rex to stop moving.
“I’ve found an old generator over by those cupboards,” Jerry pointed to the dark shape outside of Rex’s vision, “if that is how they were meant to recharge the exo’s power pack we might be able to get one back up and running.”
Rex released his arms from inside of the suit, with the faceplate and chest piece opening up when his fingers found a tag next to his right shoulder.
“We’d best tell Miles what we have found. If the wind picks up anymore we should be safe enough to try starting that generator; I doubt it would make enough noise to be heard outside as it is. Help me get out of here.” said Rex.
Chapter 3
Aiko, I'm sorry that I have not being in touch for days. I've been so focused about Seven that, foolishly, I have ignored you. I hope you can forgive me, I don't want to lose you too. I’ve already arranged with Beryl for my stuff to be shipped out as I'm heading into the slums again today, but will be back to see you soon. Take care - Ajax
