by M. R. Forbes
James moved ahead to the end of the corridor, Dark and Bones following closely behind him. He tapped on the door control and opened the hatch to reveal an open, empty area with an adjoining corridor on each side. Investigating the passages, he discovered they were labeled.
He quickly located the command center down the left corridor. He had only taken two steps down the passage when he heard the soft clacking of the doors locking and sealing behind them. Then the lights went out, plunging the three Liberators into sudden darkness.
Their helmets adjusted automatically, shifting to night vision. The view became grainy and undefined in the pitch black, but it was still clear enough to navigate the space.
“Someone’s watching us, sir,” Dark said.
“Agreed,” James replied. “Let them.”
He stepped up to the locked door and leaned back on his right foot. He drew up his armored left boot and kicked in the door, creating a deafening echo and whine as the door bent inward. He put his arms through the gap and then spread them out, pushing the door open far enough for him to slide through into sill another corridor.
He expected soldiers to be waiting for them, but the corridor was as clear as the others. He had the strange feeling of navigating a maze. Somebody was controlling the lights and the doors. But from where?
He motioned for Dark and Bones to follow him, stomping ahead of them down the passage at a brisk walk. There were offices on either side of the hallway, all of them empty. One had a full cup of coffee resting in front of a terminal, steam still rising from the hot liquid. Someone had been sitting there as recently as a few minutes earlier.
“I think they took off,” Bones said. “I don’t blame them. I would run from us too.”
“Don’t let your guard down,” James replied.
“Yes, sir.”
They turned right at the end of the hallway. The command center was at the end, its doors also closed and sealed.
A red light exploded from the wall beside him, the sudden illumination overwhelming his night vision feed. He closed his eyes, shrinking back, blinded. A siren joined the light a moment later, a recorded voice booming out from speakers hidden in the ceiling.
“Self-destruct sequence initiated. Please evacuate immediately. Ten minutes to detonation. Self-destruct sequence initiated. Please evacuate immediately. Nine minutes fifty-four seconds to detonation.”
The message continued to repeat, counting down each time it did.
“Oh, hell,” Dark said. “What do we do now, General?”
“Hurry the fuck up, that’s what,” James replied, recovering from the momentary loss of sight as his visor adjusted to the new light source. “Step back.”
Dark and Bones moved further back behind James while he tapped his rifle’s secondary trigger, sending an explosive ahead to the command center door. The explosives clung to the metal and he hit the trigger again, detonating them. The sound was deafening, the weapon overkill for the light door. The ordnance left it in tatters.
James ran toward it, leading with his rifle. He stepped over what was left of the hatch and into the command center, just in time to see a hatch begin closing on the other side, and someone running away.
“Bring her back here,” James ordered, pointing to the door.
“Roger,” Dark said, sprinting across the room and hitting the door control.
“Bones, head back to the shaft and update Tinker on the situation.”
“Roger.”
She ran off the way they had come, leaving James alone in the room. He took a moment to look around at the rows of terminals and video feeds from across the base. One of the feeds was dark, the camera offline.
“Sir, I’ve got her,” Dark said. “Bringing her back now.”
“Roger. Nice work.”
James continued to scan the terminals and displays, his eyes stopping on a single monitor with a black screen. The monitor didn’t fit in with the rest of the equipment. It was old. Probably one of the original computers that had run the facility during the war.
He walked over to it, reading the green text on the screen.
> UWF BE WARNED - WE’VE LOST CONTACT WITH THE PIKE. ORBITAL SENSORS HAVE GONE OFFLINE.
> WHAT IS THE CAUSE?
> UNKNOWN. WE ARE INVESTIGATING. PRESUME INTENT IS HOSTILE. PUT YOUR RESOURCES ON ALERT.
> AFFIRMATIVE. HOW CAN WE ASSIST?
> NO ASSISTANCE NEEDED AT THIS TIME. WILL UPDATE AS WE LEARN MORE.
> AFFIRMATIVE.
The text appeared to be a conversation between two parties. One here, and one somewhere else. Was there a second Centurion base Tinker didn’t know about?
The far hatch opened. James glanced over, finding Dark leading a stern woman in a Spacer uniform toward him, his sidearm pressed to her back. He opened his visor, looking down at her.
“Who are you?” she asked.
“My name is General James Stacker,” he replied.
“James Stacker? You’re one of them, then.”
“Them?”
“A clone. Where the hell did you come from?”
James was only slightly amused by her forwardness. He knew she was stalling, trying to buy time for the other Centurions to get out of the base and for the self-destruction timer to run down.
“I need information,” he said. “And access to your mainframe.”
“That’s not going to happen,” she replied.
Dark grabbed her arm, twisting it at an awkward angle until she cried out.
“Major, let her go,” James said. He released her immediately. “I assume you set the destruct sequence. I doubt a few minutes of pain will get you to talk.”
“You’re welcome to try.”
“I have better things to do. Bones, what’s your status?”
“I’m at the shaft, General. Tinker’s on his way down.”
“Roger that.”
He listened for the next self-destruction announcement. They had seven minutes to get whatever intel they could and get out.
“Here’s the deal, Miss?”
“Jackson.”
“That’s your real name?”
“What does it matter to you?”
“Fine. Miss Jackson. We’ll be gone before this place blows. The only question is, will you be with us suffering a very painful next few days, or will you give us what we came for?”
“What is it you came for?”
“I told you. Information and access to your mainframe.”
“The two reasons I set the self-destruct. Go fuck yourself.”
James could feel his anger rising from his gut toward his throat as a warm fire. He was able to contain it for now.
“Dark, go ahead,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
Dark grabbed the woman again, bending her arm behind her back. She cried out again in pain.
“John Wayne,” James said. “Does it mean anything to you?”
“The actor from the old westerns?” she replied. “He was famous two hundred plus years ago. I’ve seen a couple of his films back on Proxima.”
“Westerns?” James said. “He was an actor?”
She nodded. “The Duke.”
James clenched his fists, surprised to hear that name. “What did you say?”
Chapter 20
“The Duke,” she repeated, shying away from him. “His nickname was the Duke. Why?” James relaxed. For a moment, he had thought she was talking about Sheriff Duke. “If you’re looking for intel on John Wayne, I’m happy to share if you stop twisting my arm. I thought you wanted classified data.”
James motioned to Dark, and he let her arm go. She held it in front of her, rubbing it with her other hand.
“We’re looking for an artifact that was hidden away on Earth a long time ago by the United States Space Force,” James said. “The only references we’ve found in relation to where it was stashed have been encoded as John Wayne.”
“What kind of artifact?” Miss Jackson asked.
; “That’s not important.”
“It was important enough for you to attack a Centurion command center to get. Do you have any idea what’s going to happen to you when the next rotation gets out here? We already sent a distress signal when the Pike didn’t come back.”
“We’re not worried about reprisal from your planet,” Tinker said, entering the room. The size and shape of the powered armor he wore made him look like a smaller version of James. It also left him almost whole save for a small bump in the abdomen where his knees were resting. The legs of the armor were nearly autonomous and responded with the proper movements to go whichever direction Tinker leaned. He had his visor open, his face appearing even older framed by the helmet. “You couldn’t touch me if you wanted to. The Cleansing is at hand, Spacer. The will of the Others will not be denied.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Miss Jackson said. “The will of who?”
“The Others,” Tinker repeated. “The next rulers of this planet.” He paused, listening to the next announcement. Six minutes and counting.
“The trife rule this planet. The savages come next. We could take it if we wanted to, but it comes with too much baggage.” She met Tinker’s gaze. “You’re a savage too, aren’t you? But you seem to know a lot about Proxima. How did you know where—“
Tinker’s hand rose. A sharp crack followed. Then Miss Jackson’s head snapped backward and she toppled to the floor.
“General, we have six minutes,” Tinker said. “Why were you wasting them on her?”
“Sir, there isn’t a lot of time to crack a mainframe and search it for an obscure reference to some film actor.”
“So you learned something about our friend John Wayne. A film actor?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t know what that has to do with the artifact, or with whatever Sheriff Duke wasn’t telling us.”
“Neither do I.” Tinker’s eyes drifted toward the old monitor behind James. “But maybe we can find out in the next five minutes.”
“Sir?” James said.
Tinker pointed at the screen. “It wouldn’t kill you to pay closer attention to things, James.”
James followed Tinker’s finger, looking at the green text. He had been interrupted before he read all the way to the bottom.
> HAS THERE BEEN ANY WORD FROM SERGEANT BENNETT?
> NEGATIVE. I KNOW YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT HAYDEN. I’M SURE THERE’S A REASON FOR THEIR RADIO SILENCE. I’M SURE HE’S FINE.
“Move aside,” Tinker said, approaching the terminal. James stared at the text for another moment before getting out of his way.
“They’ve been communicating with Sheriff Duke’s people,” James said. “It’s interesting, but I don’t see how that’s going to help us.”
“That’s because you’re a thug,” Tinker said. He leaned over the keyboard, typing quickly and expertly.
> ifconfig
> ping 192.168.1.255
> arp -a
Two numbers appeared on the screen, both of them with similar coordinates. Tinker kept typing.
> ping 192.168.1.43
The machine responded a moment later:
> Request timeout for icmp_seq 0
> Request timeout for icmp_seq 1
Tinker was silent as he tried the next number in the list:
> ping 192.168.1.112
This one responded differently from the first:
> 64 bytes from 192.168.1.112: icmp_seq=1 ttl=51 time=2620.106 ms
Tinker typed a new command:
> iplookup 192.168.1.112
The machine didn’t respond at first, making James think it was broken. Then a new line of text appeared:
> ip country: US, United States
> ip state: California
> ip city: San Francisco
Tinker turned around, grinning. “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”
James shrugged. “I have no idea what you just did.”
“This terminal is part of a network, one that reaches out to three other terminals in three other locations within the former United States. Or at least, it did. The first address didn’t work. The terminal it was connected to probably went offline. The second one? That’s the one they’ve been exchanging messages with. Whoever’s at the other end knows Sheriff Hayden Duke well enough to be worried about him.”
“His wife, maybe?”
“Very possible.” Tinker paused, listening to the self-destruct warning again. Four minutes and counting. “Time to go.”
Tinker turned and started back toward the shaft. James, Dark, and Bones stayed close behind him. The countdown was at two minutes by the time they reached the shaft, not leaving them much time to climb. Tinker went first, rising easily with the strength of the powered armor. Bones went next, followed by James, while Dark brought up the rear.
They were halfway up when Bones slipped, losing her grip on the wire, her muscles getting tired. James reached out, catching her arm before she could fall past him, gripping the climb-wire like a vice and stopping her descent. She was slight enough that he pulled her up without difficulty, swinging her to his back.
“Just hold on,” he said. He could feel the added weight despite the strength of the suit, but he wasn’t going to leave her behind. He kept climbing, carrying them both to the top of the shaft as the countdown dropped under a minute.
They ran out of the bunker. The Harpy was already on the ground, the remaining fourteen soldiers in Midnight Platoon spread around the dropship, protecting it from Centurion attack.
“Load up!” James shouted to them through the comm, dropping Bones to the ground so she could run. They sprinted for the open ramp, coming at it from every side and charging up and into the hold. “Captain, get us the hell out of here!”
“Roger,” Fahri replied.
The dropship’s reactor changed in pitch as Fahri fired the launch thrusters. A moment later the Harpy lifting slowly from the ground. James was still a dozen meters away from the ramp, with Dark and Bones right behind him.
“Come on Midnight!” he shouted at them, urging them on. The two Liberators picked up the pace, the dropship slowing its ascent even more to give them time to get on board.
James stopped running, turning and dropping to his hands and knees. He didn’t need to tell the other two soldiers what to do. Bones reached him first, jumping from the ground to his back and from his back to the Harpy’s ramp. Three of her platoon-mates caught her there, moving her aside as Dark made the leap.
James stood up. The ground started to rumble, the first of the underground explosives detonating. He could feel the earth shifting beneath his feet, and he flexed his legs and jumped, the powered armor carrying him three meters into the air. He reached up, getting a powerful hand on the edge of the ramp.
“Go! Go! Go!” he shouted, getting his other hand on the ramp. Sounding like subdued thumps from deep underground, the rumbles were increasing in number.
The Harpy rose in the air while James pulled himself onto the ramp, turning and looking back. A moment later the surface collapsed inward with a series of thuds and bangs, the implosion creating a massive sinkhole where the Liberators had been standing less than a minute earlier.
“Too fucking close,” he mumbled, his heart pounding.
“That was so awesome,” Major Efreet said beside him.
“Sir, where are we headed?” Captain Fahri asked.
“San Francisco,” Tinker replied.
Chapter 21
“How do you feel, Sheriff?” Chandra asked.
Hayden blinked his eyes a few times, looking around the room. “The eye is working, but it’s a little blurry.”
“The initial blurriness is normal. It’ll take a few hours for your brain to adjust to the signals from the control tab, and then it should be sharper than your real eye. Try squinting.”
Hayden squinted his eye, the area ahead of it quickly magnifying. He opened it fully again, and it went back to normal. “Nice trick.”
“It
should also automatically adjust to light and glare, and provide limited infrared for night vision.”
“I’m surprised the entire Space Force wasn’t volunteering for replacement eyeballs,” Nathan said.
“It was too expensive, or they might have been,” Chandra replied. “No replacements without real damage to the area, at least during the war. There are no rules now.”
Hayden turned his attention to his arms, flexing his new replacement and looking at each as the fingers wiggled and curled, the wrists swiveled, and the elbows bent. “I feel great. Whole again. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
He continued manipulating the replacements, looking at his new left arm. He held it up, closing it into a tight fist. A long blade sprang from the forearm, jutting out past his hand like a large claw. He opened his fist, and it slid back in.
“That is scary,” Nathan said, standing beside him.
“I’m just glad it works.” He looked at Chandra again. “You’re a wizard with this stuff.”
“My father was a great teacher.”
Nathan picked up the t-shirt and dark patterned top of Hayden’s fatigues, handing them out to him. “We need to get back to Tinker’s workshop. We already burned two hours on this, and I don’t know how much more time we’ll get.”
“Pozz,” Hayden said. “What about some food?”
“I’ll grab it on the way out. Chandra, can you take Hayden back to the pod station? Now that he has his hands and we shaved his face, he’s a bit less recognizable.”
Hayden raised a hand to his chin, rubbing the clear skin there. He hadn’t realized they had to shave him while they were doing the surgery. The flesh also felt smoother than he remembered. “I know I had a scar here,” he said.
“It’s fading,” Chandra said. “They all are. Your body is healing them. Your wife will probably like that.”
“I don’t know. Nat always said they gave me character because they all tell a story. It’s not like losing them will make me any prettier.”
