Ava Rìos
Coombes fidgeted slightly. “Hey, Ava.”
His voice was a welcome break from her worries and the distant sound of gunfire and collapsing buildings. “Yeah?”
“Whatever you do, don’t let me fall asleep, okay?”
Firth was gone, having set off at a run after his vulgar parting shot to Walsh. Ava had only overheard his half of the conversation and she didn’t know what a ‘Thunder Run’ was, or any of the rest of it… but she could guess, and as antagonistic as her relationship with the SOR had become, she didn’t want any harm to come to him.-
“You’re feeling sleepy?”
“Adrenaline’s wore off… shock might set in. Medivac’s not gonna be here for a while.” Coombes explained. “Just… warning you. I don’t feel sleepy, but keep an eye on me. I don’t wanna die here.”
“Yeah.” She almost laughed the word, feeling a surge of black humor. “I can relate.”
“…Why’d you agree to this, anyway?” He asked. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Six asked for me personally.”
“Okay, so you don’t wanna answer. That’s fine.”
“No, I do.” Ava shook her head. “I just…”
He didn’t say anything, and she checked on him. He blinked and nodded at her, still awake.
“…Look… I dunno. You’ve got a hole through you and my baggage is all small stuff next to that.”
He chuckled again, and winced. “Doesn’t hurt to offload it. And hell, I could do with the distraction.”
“…You ever felt completely useless?”
“Like, hiding-behind-a-bulldozer-while-an-alien-ship-shoots-at-you useless? Think I might know that one.”
“Yeah.” Ava saw the funny side and managed a dark little laugh. “Something like that. Not, like, as immediate, but a lot like that.”
“I hear ya.” Coombes nodded. “Nothin’ worse than feelin’ useless.”
“Yeah, well…Men are lucky there.” She waved a hand at him. “You get to be special forces and do… stuff like this.”
“Never thought’a getting shot as a privilege before.” he deadpanned, and wriggled slightly to try and make himself a little more comfortable.
“Sorry.”
“Relax, I know what you mean.” He assured her. “We all wanna make the world a better place. Fuckin’ sucks that some ways just ain’t open to women. Fuckin’ biology.”
He said it with a half-smile that made her laugh a little. It was good to be talking again. “Yeah… I mean, I don’t think I’d suit the military.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Come on, like Firth didn’t piss and moan about me.”
Coombes didn’t comment, but when she glanced at him he looked like he was thinking about something.
“What?” she asked.
“Hey we don’t really know each other.” He shifted uncomfortably again. “Not my place to say anything.”
“Say it anyway.”
He cleared his throat, which apparently hurt. “My, uh… my ex-wife did what you did.”
“…I’m sorry.”
“Nah, see… I forgive her. She’s happily married now, the other fella’s a great guy, my daughter’s lucky enough to have two daddies… and I remember, the dude who made the most noise about her and had my back the loudest, he turned a blind eye to how his hound-dog asshole best friend was cheating on his fiance.”
“So you’re saying maybe don’t worry about what the SOR think of me?”
“I don’t really know what I’m saying.” Coombes admitted. “I’m just saying whatever comes into my head.”
“Have you ever told her any of that?” Ava asked him.
“Guess I haven’t.”
“You should. Take it from me.”
There was another rattle of gunfire across town, and Ava flinched as a bullet went past high overhead with a snap.
“…What’s this ‘thunder run’ thing Firth’s doing?” She asked.
“Crazy asshole’s gonna run out in the open and get the UFO to chase him.” Coombes replied. “If it keeps moving long enough, the Raptor we’ve got out there somewhere can bitch-slap it off the face of the Earth and then maybe we can get this shit sorted out.”
“And if that doesn’t work?”
“Walsh might get outta here. He’ll have to sit still for like a week and then crawl his ass out under cover of darkness. Murray could probably do that fuckin’ ninja thing of his too. Maybe he could get you out with him, I dunno.”
“And you?”
He shrugged.
She was wondering what, if anything, to say in response to that when he shivered and gave her a welcome excuse to change the subject.
“You cold?”
Coombes smiled for her. “Don’t worry. It’ll work. And there’ll be two medics droppin’ out of the sky any minute now.”
“Good. They’re great guys.”
“I reckon you’ve never seen them like this, though.” Coombes suggested.
“What do you mean?”
“From what I’ve seen of the SOR so far? Great guys, yeah, but…Just…Just brace yourself for maybe seeing a new side of ‘em.” He said. “That’s all.”
Owen Powell
“He’s fookin’ crazy.”
Walsh’s voice rang with agreement, but also with resolve. ”No better options STAINLESS. I just want it on the record that it was his idea and he volunteered.”
“Noted and recorded.” Powell agreed. He looked to the loadmaster, who gave him a thumbs-up from behind his oxygen mask and waved toward the rear ramp “We’re ready to jump on your go, DRINKIN’ BUDDY. You have a three minute window.”
“Copy. Happy trails.”
The ramp was lowered. Warhorse and Baseball were already stalking towards the end of it, running a last-minute check that their gear and weapons were locked down for the jump. He slapped them both on the helmet to get their attention.
“There’s one wounded on the ground!” he shouted to be heard over the sudden rush of arctic air. “He and ASH are near Point Charlie. Arés, you’re to secure them for evac. Firth will rendezvous with you and recover his energy reserves, that run’s gonna take it out of him. Burgess, you and I are going to link up with Murray at Point Foxtrot and eradicate the biodrones. All of them. Any questions?”
“No sir!”
“Right. Positions.”
He turned to the loadmaster, who held up his hand in a waiting gesture.
With luck, the wait was almost over.
Timothy Walsh
A pulse cannon shot flattened a single-storey dwelling, and the last of the gunfire from that end of the road went silent. There was still movement visible up there, but it was plainly just the Hierarchy drones picking through the wreckage, looking for any unlikely survivors they could finish off.
The real clue that their work was done was that the UFO darted east, and its pulse cannon speared down to flatten a building somewhere near Point Charlie.
Coombes immediately go on the line ”That was close!”
Go time. Firth had already called that he was in position.
“MAMBA-TWO-FOUR, DRINKIN’ BUDDY, FOX TWO on my position. Nine-line follows…” He provided the necessary information, which MAMBA read back.
“GOOD COPY MAMBA. Now, please.”
“FOX TWO away. Danger close. Now I gotta maneuver for a bit…” By mutual understanding, MAMBA24 would be unavailable for the moment. His wingman was ready, further off and at a different angle of attack, providing active and visual steering to the missile while it was without lock. By splitting the labor, MAMBA24 would be able to maneuver and escape detection or possible retaliation while MAMBA26 ensured the attack would be successful.
“LIGHTWEIGHT! Thunder run now!”
From his vantage point, Walsh got a clear view as Firth burst out of an alleyway and sprayed the biodrones with a burst from his M4 to get their attention. The instant he had it, his tactics changed – he became a wild, unpredictable blur. Rather than simply sprinting away from the return fire as Walsh might have been inclined to do, Firth described a random line that always kept him out of the line of fire, but still created the tantalising suggestion that he was in the open.
Walsh knew from his preliminary briefings early in the SOR pipeline that without EV-MASS, what Firth was doing was dangerous as hell. The extra mass of the suit not only provided, well, mass with which to maneuver and exert force, it also provided active cooling and energy reserves. Firth was burning a lot of energy and fast, meaning that his plan had to work or he would suddenly run out, overheat, and become a sitting duck.
It worked.
The UFO promptly abandoned its systematic destruction of the village near where Coombes and Ava were hiding. It gained altitude and spun towards the west of the village.
Walsh counted under his breath. “Five mississippi, four mississippi…”
The UFO fired. Firth was somehow on the opposite side of the road from its aim point, and the blast smashed harmlessly into the ground.
“Three mississippi, two mississippi…”
The second shot was more accurate. If Firth hadn’t completely unexpectedly reversed course to run under the UFO, it would have smeared him along the road. Walsh heard the alien craft power forward down the street to try and get an angle of fire on this infuriatingly tricky target and-
For an instant, the night went away. The invisible alien ship was connected to the horizon by an eye-searing line of angry light and a thunder like being smacked in the head by Mjolnir itself, which shook up dust and pebbles across the whole mining complex.
The impact collapsed the spacecraft’s cloaking field, and revealed that fully a third of it was gone, ripped off outright. What was left of it wobbled alarmingly, lurched sideways, fired one last desperate parting shot at Firth that instead scalped a building, before tipping the other way to nose into the side of the much-abused rock crusher.
The rock crusher weathered the impact. The UFO didn’t.
Walsh raised a shaking hand to his communicator.
“STAINLESS.” he managed, after clearing his throat. “DRINKIN’ BUDDY. BIG HOTEL CAS has been splashed. You’re clear to jump.”
He exhaled his relief, then raised MAMBA24 instead. “MAMBA-TWO-FOUR, DRINKIN’ BUDDY. Good kill.”
“Copy. We remain at your disposal. Orbit?”
Walsh described a holding pattern outside of the LZ. “Ongoing drop, LZ is hot. Please don’t scare off our cavalry.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Oh, tell the Klingons or whatever the fuck it was I just splashed that I said hi.”
“Heh. Word of advice? Don’t look forward to your debrief on landing.” Walsh granted himself a smile. It was always nice to take the pilots down a notch.
Like all good pilots, MAMBA24 bore it with grace. “…Copy. We await your pleasure, good sir.”
The biodrones down in the street were still reeling from the detonation overhead. Gunfire in one of the few windows they hadn’t flattened had to be Murray, taking advantage of their confusion, and Walsh weighed in, exploiting his oblique angle and scoped SCAR to really turn the screw on them.
His first round was a clean headshot.
“Fuck. Yeah.”
John Burgess
“HALO with no ‘chute, huh? We should call this a HELLNO.”
The good news about the UFO being splashed had roused ‘Horse from whatever dark trance he’d been in. Now he was raring to throw himself into the fight, and John knew his buddy well enough to know that the trademark Adam Arés grin was back, even if it was hidden behind the breathing mask.
“Dude, what does that acronym even stand for?” he asked.
“Fuck if I know.” John told him. “We’ll decide later!”
There was a slap on the helmet from the loadmaster. Ready…
The light went green. They sprinted off the end of the ramp.
Six
+<Scorn> So who are you really, ‘Seven’?+
+<Hatred> Traitor?+
+<Anger> Coward?+
That last stab brought a grim chuckle unbidden up out of Six’s host biodrone’s deepest reflexes. He just couldn’t resist the urge to comment quietly to himself. “Five on one, and they call me the coward…”
For all that he would comfortably survive the destruction of his host, the physical battle still held real danger for Six – if his host was killed, he would be forced to abandon it, and all of the available communication channels were monitored, dangerous. Six knew he had more experience than any other in the kind of mind-slicing involved in combat between digital sapients, but only a foolhardy idiot would pick a fight against a numerically superior force.
He knew who his assailants were. Thirteen, Twenty-seven and Forty-Four were Hierarchy. Thirty and Sixty-Two were both Cabal, obeying the standing Cabal orders to protect their own identities at all costs. Cabal members unlike the larger Hierarchy, trusted one another to protect their secrets.
They had to. If they couldn’t, then the movement would already have been exposed. They were nearly strong enough to become exposed and start warring for the soul of the Igraen species anyway, but…
Three-on-three would be a much more even fight, one where his experience might well carry the day, but why fight at all when there were less risky alternatives?
+<Serene> I see the future+ He sent. Their emotions were running high enough that prodding and goading them with hints and doublespeak should keep them irrational and force a mistake
There was a lengthy delay. Gunfire somewhere nearby in the dense tangle of cheap housing gave him a clue as to the cause. That was solid support for his reasoning, if nothing else – Despite being outnumbered something like six to one, the humans had inflicted a heavy toll on the Hierarchy biodrones even before Six’s own forces had been ordered into the fight. The Abductor really had been the only effective weapon against them, and now that it was gone – a fact that would harm his own plans for Earth as well as the Hierarchy’s operations – despite being depleted by half, the human team were clearly giving the drones a war.
+<Mounting anger> Hide behind cryptic nonsense all you like. You will be captured, you will be compiled, and you will be deleted.+
Six shook his head. +<Patient prediction> If you have your way, our species will fall. We have already lost.+
He glanced left and right down the gap between buildings and scurried to a doorway. There was no such thing as a locked door, now that all of the miners and their families had been biodroned. He ducked inside, then cursed. Somewhere in the confusing tangle of the unfolding battle, he’d got turned around and was now pinned against one of the village’s main roads, where there was no cover and nowhere to hide.
+<Elaboration> The humans have already escaped us. No matter what we do, we cannot defeat them now.+
+<Vigorous disagreement> We only need one jump beacon to bring the Discarded down on them.+
Six scoffed and checked outside again. He couldn’t go back the way he’d come, they were too close behind him. His only option was to slip through the window and make a break across the road to safety. Hopefully he could double back around them.
It was not, on balance, a good plan. But it was the best he had.
He didn’t get a chance to execute it. He was preparing to climb through when the door behind him burst open. The biodrone that stepped through smiled, betraying that it was the host for an Agent, and opened fire.
Six hauled himself through the window. He didn’t, at first, feel the bullet wound. There was just a sense of an impact and a sort of coldness in his face. It was only once he realised that the bullet had scored across his cheek, slicing it open and ripping off part of his ear that the pain hit.
He turned it off. It was no longer a necessary datum. Instead he got up and ran, thinking desperately.
+<Frantic> Have you not been paying attention? Do you really think that we will be able to secure such a thing, now that our source of biodrones has been destroyed and the nuclear weapons it carried will be recovered?+ He sent. After all, trying to talk them round was no worse a plan than any other he had right now.
+<Dismissive> They are less than children.+
So much for reason. +<Resolve> They are tenacious, they are intelligent, and they are motivated to survive above all else. We. Have. Failed.+ he broadcast, turning down a gap between buildings. He nearly ran into a wall of four guns.
“Enough. You’re trapped.”
The one who had shot him came up behind Six to his right, and another emerged from further down the street. ’Trapped’ was almost an understatement.
“I don’t suppose we can talk about this?” He ventured, appealing to the leader.
The Agent didn’t reply – they simply aimed at him.
Something landed on the Agent’s host. This was definite understatement – whatever it was, it smashed into the biodrone from above with enough force to crush, break and burst it, and none of the Agents – not the Hierarchy, not the Cabal, not Six – had time or wit to do anything but stare as a red-eyed thing went instantly from landing to violent motion. The drone to its left was killed with a backhand swat to the temple that crushed its skull. A large, heavy gun snapped up and dispatched the two drones behind Six in two precise bursts.
It didn’t all go the rampaging sky-monster’s way. The second burst was interrupted by an anomalous metallic sound, but the creature didn’t miss a beat – it lowered its head and bull-rushed the last two Hosts with enough force to break one’s spine outright, and the final one barely had the chance to weakly scrabble at its assailants armor before the creature killed it through the simple expedient of twisting its head right off.
No sooner was it dead than the monster lurched upright, drew a secondary weapon from its hip, and aimed it directly and with disconcerting stability at Six’s chest.
There was a long, horribly tense moment. The only sounds were gunfire at the far end of town, and a pattering sound – blood, raining off his rescuer’s (or possibly captor’s) armor.
Very, very carefully, Six extended the hand holding his gun out sideways, placed the weapon in the dirt, and stepped away from it.
”Target secured.” The monster announced, presumably not speaking to him. Whatever it heard in response was met with a curt nod. “You. Kneel. Cross your ankles and put your hands on top of your head.”
Six ignored the urgent signals from his host biodrone’s ghost personality that the appropriate thing to do right now would be to excrete, vomit and possibly pass out entirely, and instead carefully and slowly obeyed.
“Lie on your belly, keep your hands on your head.”
Six complied and the monster again moved with alarming speed. There was an incredible pain as one of its knees pressed hard into his, and an almost nauseatingly sharp agony as both his arms were yanked down to his lower back so forcefully, Six could feel the tendons stretch. The knee moved up to his hands and crushed so firmly he could feel the bones in his hand spread apart, something bound his wrists with excessive tightness, and he was roughly yanked to his feet.
“Don’t try to run.”
“No.” Six agreed, utterly persuaded that it would be a futile effort.
There was a thump, and one of Ash’s guardians – the enormous one wearing the eye-gougingly ugly shirt – dropped off a rooftop to join them. He surveyed the carnage with no sign of any emotion beyond, perhaps, professional approval.
“Malfunction, Horse?” He asked, aiming his own gun at Six.
‘Horse’ retrieved his primary weapon. “Landing busted the belt.” He said. The weapon hinged open, was reloaded and charged with practiced ease.
“Got any juice? I’m running on fuckin fumes here.”
‘Horse’ took over guarding Six. “Concentrate’s in the top right side pocket, water’s on the left.”
Ugly-shirt tugged a foil pack out of the indicated pocket, twisted the top off and tipped its contents into his mouth, swallowing with a grimace.
‘Horse’ nodded approvingly. “Hardcore, man.”
“Tastes like getting face-fucked by a lime.” The juice was chased down by a large bottle of water. “Right. We’ve got a wounded man yonder. Ash did a pretty good job patching him up I reckon, but you should have a look at him. You. Thataway.” He jerked his gun at Six.
”Ash did?”
“Yah-huh.” There was a grudging tone in Ugly-Shirt’s voice.
Walking with his hands tied behind him turned out to be more difficult than Six had anticipated. Without his arms swinging to counterbalance him, each step had to be compensated for with less elegant, larger shifts of weight. The result was that the powerful, graceful stride he’d been so proud of himself for cultivating had to sit back and watch as he stumbled along in front of his captors with short, clumsy steps.
This was not, apparently, to Ugly-Shirt’s satisfaction. The third time that Six nearly tripped on the rough ground he growled, grasped Six’s shirt and neck from behind and lifted. His grip was agonizingly tight and something about the action caused Six’s limbs to suddenly go limp. Try as he might, Six could scarcely will either his legs or his arms to action. Ugly, meanwhile, sped up to a quick jog–easy for him–that Six might just about have matched at a run with his hands free.
He unceremoniously dropped Six in the dirt next to Ash and one of her guardians, who looked to be badly wounded. Even through the mask, there was some kind of connection between Ash and the faceless mountain of armored human who had saved Six’s life – both of them went very still on seeing one another.
“…’Ash’.”
“…’Warhorse’.”
Then, slowly, her gaze ran down him and took in the fact that he was coated in a mix of bodily fluids. Mostly blood, but several others besides, none of which had ever been intended to be exposed to the air. Six could hardly blame her for being shaken by the gruesome barbarity of him.
For his part, Warhorse was inscrutable.
“If you two’re done with the happy fuckin’ reunion.” The wounded man croaked. “I could really do with less pain right now.”
Warhorse put his gun down, knelt by his injured colleague and efficiently plucked a packet of some kind from one of the many pouches about his person. Despite that the rest of him was covered in gore, his gloves were eerily clean. Six could only guess at what kind of hydrophobic, antimicrobial technology had gone into creating a nimble, flexible pressure glove that could remain permanently sterile even in the most demanding deathworld battlefield conditions.
He tore the packet open and popped a little white stick into the wounded man’s mouth. With swift, businesslike efficiency he checked on the wounds.
“You dressed this?” He asked Ash.
“Coo-, uh, Bouncer talked me through it.” She nodded.
“…You did good.”
Despite this apparent praise, he took several additional steps, none of which Six had the education to recognise and all of which seemed to involve alarmingly large needles. By the end of his ministrations, ‘Bouncer’ had a few tubes in him, but he didn’t seem to mind.
“Gowwa teww ya.” He managed, around the stick in his mouth, which Warhorse removed for him. “These new anaesthetics do the job but it just don’t seem right not bein’ high as balls right now.”
“Suck it up.” Warhorse told him, not without an air of kindly humor.
With the attention off him for a second, Six turned his mind to thoughts of escape.
<Connecting: Subnet Mask ????????? Port ?????>
++System Notification: Welcome to the Cabal.++
++????++: Six. What is happening?
++????++: Hierarchy operations on Earth are now completely neutralised. The Abductor has been destroyed. The last biodrones are being eradicated. I have been captured.
++????++: Is this channel secure?
++????++: As secure as I could manage. I need facility for an immediate uplink off this planet. Quickly, before they drug me and detain me for questioning again.
++????++: That will tip our hand.
++????++: The time has come.
++????++: …You are certain?
++????++: Completely certain. The humans have the coordinates for relay Ijrux-10010. The Hierarchy will not believe that the station could have been discovered by chance. As soon as the first deathworlder mission probes that facility, they will conduct a thorough audit. We must strike now and take advantage of their confusion.
++????++: I had hoped to recruit Ninety-Four.
++????++: We have no time. If Ninety-Four defects later…
++????++: Vote.
++System Notification: Vote now.++
<…>
++System Notification: All votes have been cast. The Ayes have it.++
++????++: The first order of business is getting you off that planet. A secure link can be opened in… [forty seconds].
++????++: The link must be large enough to accommodate two mind-states.
++????++: Two?
++????++: I will explain later.
++????++: Very well. [Three minutes].
++????++: Thank you.
++????++: You will still self-format if you are captured in the interim?
++????++: Trust me.
++????++: …You are right. I apologise. Good luck.
++System Notification: Session Terminated.++
“Hey! Earth to detainee! Come in starbase six!”
There was a hand waving in front of his face. Six did a convincing job of blinking as if he’d been miles away. “Hmm? Ah. Sorry, I was distracted.”
“Not thinkin’ of escaping were ya?” Ugly-shirt managed the interesting trick of threatening with a light tone.
“As a matter of fact, I was.” Six replied. “Of course, if I could I already would have, so…”
This seemed to amuse, but not in a happy way.
“Horse, you got any tranquiliser? I don’t trust this asshole.”
“Dude, I need that for if somebody gets his leg blown off. I’m not wasting it on that piece of shit.”
“Am I to be detained for questioning, then?” Six asked.
“You know the drill.”
“Indeed I do, and I would sit down in that chair opposite my interviewer and tell them everything straight away this time. It would save us all a lot of time and inconvenience.”
“Smart of ya.” Bouncer grunted.
“There’s not much to tell.” Six shrugged. “With that Abductor destroyed, the Hierarchy’s plans for Earth are completely ruined. This battle will have depleted them below operational levels. There are now too few biodrones left on Earth to accomplish anything, their only means of making more is in flames over there, and the stolen weapons on board were their only bargaining chip with enough value to potentially procure a jump beacon. Without a jump beacon in Hierarchy hands, this system is completely safe.”
“We’ll let the spooks decide if you’re telling the truth on that one.” Ugly-shirt grunted.
“As you wish. Incidentally, there’s a radio and electronics store in Abu Dhabi. A district called ‘Mussafah.’ – The owners are Hierarchy drones. You should find some interesting intelligence there.”
Warhorse turned to face him, sliding a hand into his bag. “Why tell us this now…?” He asked, cautiously.
The secure link opened.
Six gave them his best and most infuriating smile. “Goodbye, gentlemen.”
Warhorse lurched forward with a dose of tranquilizer ready to administer, but it was too late. Six was laughing even as he slipped out of the body that had been his home for months and left Earth hopefully for good.
He let his host live.
Timothy Walsh
Murray and Firth had been terrifying enough all by themselves. Murray in particular was an unpredictable and fickle force of nature: He would appear, kill, and disappear, only to reappear when and where he was least expected, and in the place the enemy would least want him to be.
When Firth’s dwindling energy reserves had forced him out of the fight, the double-act between Murray’s hit-and-fade marauding and Walsh’s marksmanship had kept the biodrones pinned and immobile, but little more than that. The fight had bogged down, and Walsh was starting to worry about his supply of ammo when the three men in EV-MASS landed.
He didn’t see what happened over by Charlie. But he had a clear view of Foxtrot and the violence that was unleashed there. BASEBALL hit the ground like an airstrike, and with about the same body count. Just when the drones had re-positioned for cover and could fire at him, up popped Murray to shoot them sideways in the ass. If they found a spot where they were covered against both, then either STAINLESS or Walsh had a clean shot.
It was… dispassionate. Efficient. They were merely servicing their targets, like any soldier or special operator would on any mission.
The difference was how good they were at it. Walsh felt almost superfluous to the proceedings. His sniper’s viewpoint was undoubtedly well-appreciated but what was the point? Nothing the biodrones had could penetrate that incredible armor, none were quick enough to avoid Murray’s preternatural ability to catch them in enfilade, and when the last few tried to make a bid for escape, they did so straight into STAINLESS, who’d seen their move coming long before it began.
STAINLESS was the most clinical of the lot, Walsh noted. The ones that fled away from him and into BASEBALL met a… messier end. Unavoidable, and mercifully quick, but messy.
Murray took the last kill, He stepped out of an alleyway in front of the last fleeing drone, drove a knife into its throat, then yanked it out the side. It looked brutal, but the drone was probably unconscious from the sudden drop in blood pressure before it had a chance to notice.
For the first time in several long minutes, there was relative silence. The three vanished into what few of the nearby buildings remained intact enough to sweep, It seemed to last a long while before the call Walsh had been hoping for came in.
”DRINKIN’ BUDDY, get us airlift.”
“Gladly.” Walsh agreed. They had a V-22 on standby for exactly this reason. “SCIMITAR-ONE-NINER, DRINKIN’ BUDDY. We’re ready for pickup, be advised this mission is now CASEVAC. Nine-line follows…”
Ava Rìos
An explosive cracking noise sent everybody in the alleyway who wasn’t unconscious diving for cover. Ava hit the dirt and threw her hands over the back of her head. When she looked up, Adam was looking around from where he’d been shielding Coombes, and Firth was checking that his dive over Six’s sedated former host had done the poor man no harm.
“The hell was that…?” He grumbled, scooted to the end of the side-street and then pulled his head back in as a second, louder crack snapped out, followed by a creaking groan of strained wood.
Adam checked that Coombes’ IV feed hadn’t been dislodged. “Problem?”
“Shoddy-ass local construction’s about to come down. We’re… probably clear of it.”
“Probably?”
“Dude, I ain’t a Defender. Construction is Rebar’s thing, and demolition is Snapshot’s. But it’s-”
There was another crack-groan and this time a third noise – the unmistakable shriek of a terrified child.
Firth and Adam shared a moment’s horrified mutual glance, before Coombes slapped Adam on the arm. “I’ll be fine.” He croaked. “Go.”
The two of them were barely round the corner before Ava heard the tortured building at least partially give up the ghost. Adam stood and put a despairing hand to the top of his helmet, watching it come down.
Ava cringed, but to her relief the cries weren’t suddenly silenced – in fact they got louder. Adam and Firth scrambled over to the sagging home.
She poked her head round the corner to watch them. Adam had turned on the light on his helmet, and was peering through a gap between a slab of fallen concrete and a thick wooden beam with Firth squatted next to him.
“What’s going on?” Coombes asked.
“They’re… Ada-, I mean, uh, Horse is trying to lift…” It felt so weird using Adam’s callsign. “The building’s half fallen down and they’re trying to… get the debris out of the way, but it looks like it’s… Jesus, it’s too heavy for him.”
“Too heavy for those guys?” Coombes coughed. “Shit.”
“They can move it, but neither of them are going to… fit… Oh God.”
Adam and Firth shied back from the collapsing house as another corner of it fell apart.
“They’re calling for Baseball.” Coombes told her. “…Stainless says he can’t be spared from the sweep-and-clear.”
“I’m going to help.” Ava decided.
“Ash, you can’t-”
“I’m gonna try.” She asserted. “You’ll be okay without me?”
He sighed. “Go.”
Adam turned as she ran up to them. “Ava, get the hell back in there!”
She ignored him and stooped to look into the collapsed building. There was a small child – a toddler, really – hiding under a table that was already holding up far more than looked safe.
“Can you lift that beam?” She asked. “I can wriggle in there and-”
They both answered at once. ”NO.”
“But-”
“Absolutely not!” Adam insisted. “We’re here to keep you safe.”
“…Fine. That thing’s gonna come down and kill that child. On your head be it.” She snapped.
The building groaned again and the child whimpered.
She pressed the USB drive Six had given her into Adam’s hand. “I know Walsh recorded my chat with Six. I’ve got nothing more to do here.” She told him. “Let. Me. Help.”
There was a snapping sound from somewhere inside the settling structure, and Adam’s resolve snapped with it.
“…The old man’s gonna kill me…” he muttered, and grabbed the beam. “Dude, come on, help me… nngggh…”
Firth hesitated, then obeyed. Between the two of them, they were able to partially lift the blockage. Ava shed the armor that Vinther had given her, dropped to her belly and wriggled into the hole they’d created for her.
“Come on, Pequeñita… it’s okay… Come here…” she told the child, who irrationally shied away from her.
There was a horrible groaning sound from the table and Adam snarled urgently through gritted teeth. Even for him, the load must have been a terrible effort. ”Ava-!”
”Please come here!” She begged the child, who finally got its wits together and darted forward into her arms.
“Pull us out!” She called.
Firth grabbed her by a boot and heaved, sliding her and the child painfully in the dirt. A second later she was picked up completely and carried away from the building as Adam gave the beam a final shove and backpedalled. Tonnes of concrete and wood came sliding down, filling the air with dust and the sound of demolition.
They were bundled back into Coombes’ company, who gave a relieved sigh at seeing them all safe. The child – a little girl Ava guessed, though it was hard to tell between the neglect and the dust – had clamped on to Ava and was hugging hard. She squirmed and protested as Firth pressed an implant scanner to her head, which pinged a happy green.
“Guess kids can’t be ‘droned.” Firth panted, and wiped some of the concrete dust off his sweating brow. “That was too close.”
“Sorry if I… got you in trouble with Stainless.” Ava apologised.
“The major?” Adam asked, checking the child for injuries.
“You said the old man’s gonna kill you…”
Adam shook his head with an exhausted laugh. “I was talkin’ about Dad!”
“He doesn’t need to know.” Ava reassured him.
“Better if he doesn’t.” Adam nodded. “You’re probably right.”
Two jets ripped the sky, low overhead. Firth glanced up at them. “Those guys are gonna have a fun debrief.” He commented.
“Why the low flyover?” Ava asked.
“Show of force. Let Big Hotel know they’re beaten, if there’s any left. Should force ‘em to keep their heads down while we take care of shit.”
“So what happens now?” Ava asked.
“Now, we wait for the all clear from Stainless. After that, you and Bouncer here are goin’ back on the Osprey with a ‘Horse, and the rest of us get to enjoy the luxuries of a beddown pallet here on site for a couple days.”
“Speaking of which…” Adam turned his head, raising a hand for quiet. It wasn’t hard to hear the sound of approaching t urboprops once he’d pointed them out. A second later he nodded, tilting his head in a way that suggested he was listening to something Ava couldn’t hear.
“…Copy DRINKIN’ BUDDY. On our way.” He took a firm but gentle hold of Coombes, and hoisted him easily up onto his shoulders.
“Come on, our ride’s here.”
“What about the kid?”
Firth gently took the little one off her. She didn’t protest – Ava could only guess that she’d been so starved for human affection that anybody willing to even hold her was a blessing at this point. “I’ve got ‘em.”
Ava got to her feet. “…See you round I guess, big guy.” She told Firth.
All she got in reply was a grunt. A little crestfallen, she followed Adam.
“Hey. Ava.”
She turned back. Firth gave her a long, calculating and unreadable stare as he bounced the child on one massive knee. “Take care.” He decided, eventually.
“…You too.”
She had to jog to keep up with Adam’s stride, and they reached the open area just as the Osprey touched down. Adam held her back with one hand while he checked the coast was clear, then waved her forward and together they dashed over to the ramp. Adam set Coombes down on a litter against the port side, and Ava was ushered further up into the vehicle by the loadmaster, who got her settled and gave her a potted safety briefing. They were off the ground again almost as soon as they were on board.
Adam got his patient settled, exchanged a few words with the loadmaster, then settled in the seat opposite Ava and, with a sigh, removed his helmet and mask.
It dawned on her that he reeked. There was the familiar musk of his sweat, that she was intimately familiar with and it didn’t bother her at all. But his EV-MASS was dark brown from ankle to mid-chest with what could only mostly be dried blood. He smelled unpleasantly like a jar full of old coins, and the grim bouquet was only enhanced by notes of gastric fluid, bile and fecal matter.
He caught her expression. “…What?”
“You smell like a rotting pig in an open sewer on a hot day.”
“Sick bags are under your seat.”
“That’s not the problem. You’re covered in… somebody… and you look like you don’t even care.”
He shrugged massively. “That was a biodrone. Not a somebody.”
“They used to be a person.”
“Used to be. Blame Big Hotel. I didn’t kill those poor bastards, I just finished what those assholes started.”
She nodded, and looked down at her boots. “I guess I just don’t like seeing you as a killer.”
He snorted and glanced at Coombes. The wounded man had fallen asleep, but nothing about that seemed to be cause for alarm. “Yeah, well. That’s what I am.”
It took a second for it to sink in that she’d probably stung him with that, without meaning to. “…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”
“It’s okay.”
“…I’ll let you think.”
“Nah, I can never just sit and think. My brain doesn’t work that way.” He sighed. “There’s just some things you and I are never gonna be able to talk about, okay?”
“Okay.” she agreed, and changed topic. “How’re Dad and Jess?”
“They’re good. They miss you.”
“I miss them too. What do they think of you and John being the ‘Beef Brothers’?”
He shrugged again, but this was his ‘I don’t know’ shrug rather than his dismissive shrug. “Not had the chance to go back and see them since that whole thing started. Been too busy looking after the Gaoians, and then this thing happened…”
“Jess probably finds it hilarious.”
He chuckled and nodded, and an awkward silence fell. For several minutes, Ava just sat and listened to the engines, trying to ignore that she could taste his stink every time she inhaled. Her mind went into freewheel mode, alighting briefly on any subject that flitted across her attention before moving on.
“…What’re you thinkin’ about?” Adam asked her, after a while.
“Too many things.”
“I hear ya.”
The same uncomfortable silence came back, and this time it stuck. The strangest part about being woken up when they landed was that Ava had never noticed falling asleep.
Date Point 10y4m1w5d AV
Omaha, Nebraska, USA, Earth
Kevin Jenkins
“Jesus fuck.”
The job foreman chuckled. “That’s management talk for ‘you’ve done good and there’s gonna be a bonus for ya’ is it?” He asked. “I don’t stay on top’a that trendy boardroom business jargon.”
Kevin chuckled. “Nope, sorry. That was just ordinary surprise… Hey, not to question your professionalism, but you sure you didn’t drop a zero off all the measurements here?”
“Nope. This is exactly according to the diagrams we were given.”
Kevin turned to the man beside him. “Ericson? I’ve seen spam cans bigger than this room.”
“It’s a small ship.” Ericson shrugged. “Trust me, people are just fine in smaller than this even, but we wanted to give them enough room to exercise.”
“They’re gonna have zero privacy.”
Ericson nodded, tapping on his tablet. “Yup.”
“No dignity.”
“They’ll have all the dignity they need.” Ericson retorted. “You’re too used to having a large space to yourself, Jenks. It’s a first-world luxury – families of eight live permanently in spaces smaller than this in some parts of the world.”
“Yeah, in poverty!”
“Trust us. We have a lot of psychological research behind this. For the right three people, living in this space won’t be a hardship, it’ll be paradise.”
“And for the wrong three people?” Kevin asked.
Ericson tucked his tablet under his arm. “The wrong three people won’t be on that ship.” He said.