Absolute Zero (The Shadow Wars Book 4) (21 page)

“Did you know how dangerous this place was?”

“No. Well, I mean, they didn't tell me anything. Sergio just said, 'Be ready for anything.' I had a feeling, like this place was just waiting for me. It felt bad, like the end,
my
end. I almost walked, but I've never run from a fight before.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I was hoping that this would be my chance to do something that matters. I guess saving the galaxy matters,” Trent said, chuckling.

“I'm still not clear on that,” Sharpe said.

“Yeah, me neither.” He shrugged. “Guess it doesn't matter.”

They turned a corner and then hesitated as they heard voices. Trent raised his weapon, but as he stared down another lengthy corridor, he lowered it and spied three familiar figures at the other end. All conversation fell away as they saw each other, then they began hurrying down the passageway, meeting halfway, in front of a huge door.

“What the hell happened?” Drake asked.

Trent laughed and hugged him, slapping him hard on the back. “Hit something and crashed. Barely made it to an emergency survival shack, then headed underground. Have you run into anyone or anything yet?”

“No, nothing. Not a goddamn thing. I think we might be the only living things in this whole fucking building,” Drake replied.

“I wouldn't count on it,” Gideon replied. “Thinking like that lets you relax, and then that's when they jump out and get you.”

“I don't think I could relax in this place,” Trevor said.

“I don't think anyone could,” Trent replied.

They all turned then and faced the large doorway they had come to stand in front of. For a long moment, nobody spoke.

“Is this it?” Drake asked finally, his voice heavy and leaden.

“Yep,” Trevor murmured.

“And you know what to do?” Trent asked.

“...for the most part.”

They all turned to look at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Gideon asked.

“It means...that I have a rough idea of what to do, but I won't be absolutely sure until I'm actually where I need to be. Which is at a Cyr light terminal in this next room,” Trevor murmured sheepishly. The others stared at him for a long moment.

Trent sighed. “Fine, let's go.”

They opened the door.

Trent had been mentally and physically preparing himself for the battle of a lifetime. He expected to see wall-to-wall Harvesters, every surface covered in Spitters, an army of Fiends, or maybe some brand new horror ready to kill then in a fresh and unique way. Instead, he received the exact opposite. There was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

The next room was immense, so tall that the ceiling was lost in darkness. It was broad, the sides of it extending away from them to the left and right. But it wasn't very long. The front of the room was a scant few dozen meters away. The wall was made of some strange gray material that was almost see-through, almost translucent, but not quite. Something seemed to be moving, like a vague shape hidden mostly in shadow, shifting sluggishly, as though in a restless dream. Whatever it was, it was massive, a titanic behemoth.

“Is that it?” Sharpe whispered.

“I think so, I think that's The Presence,” Trent murmured.

He studied it as they cautiously moved across the empty room, making for a terminal that seemed to be constructed of silver metal and bright white light. Trent kept trying to get some kind of mental image, some vague guess of what the thing contained behind the wall might look like, but he had literally no idea.

Only that it was huge.

“Okay,” Trevor said very softly, coming to the terminal. He began to cautiously poke at it, hitting unfamiliar symbols painted in light.

Time passed in fragments that seemed swollen. What should have been seconds puffed up and seemed to contain, instead, whole minutes. Trent, Sharpe, Drake and Gideon looked around, expecting the worst at any moment. There were doors along the walls, other entrances, but they all remained firmly closed.

“Oh fuck,” Trevor groaned.

“What?!” Trent snapped, turning around.

“I've figured out how to do it, and it means I have to die.”

Trent blinked in surprise. The others looked at him.

“What?” Drake asked.

“I'm the only one who knows how to do this and I can't sit here and explain it to anyone else anyway. I don't think we have the time. And once I initiate the process, it's basically instantaneous. And...worst of all, once I actually start the process, I get the feeling that this thing isn't going to just let me keep going. It takes a little bit, about ten minutes, I'm going to need someone watching my back or I'll get killed.”

“What if it just...kills you?” Trent asked. “I mean, the Presence?”

Trevor glanced up at it. “I don't think it can, not directly, anyway. I think it's still waking up...or trapped, or whatever. It has some measure of control over the area, but not enough to actually put a stop to me.”

“So...do we draw straws?” Drake asked.

“I'll stay,” Gideon and Sharpe said at the same time. They both glanced at each other, then laughed.

“No, it should be me,” Trent said.

“Fuck that,” Drake replied.

“No, listen, Drake-”

“No, goddamnit!” Drake snapped suddenly, grabbing Trent by the front of his suit. “If we've got a chance to get out of here, we should fucking take it! Just because you feel like you're a fucking failure or something doesn't mean you have to throw your goddamn life away! I am
not
heading back out into the galaxy without you, you fucking asshole.”

Trent was silent for a long moment. “Why can't we both stay?” he asked.

“It's my job,” Sharpe replied firmly, garnering their attention. “I came out here to deal with this, ultimately. This thing can't get out.”

“And, well, if I'm being honest, I think there are probably worse ways to go,” Gideon said. “I don't mind being vaporized saving the galaxy. Good way to make your mark.”

“No-” Trent began, but Drake cut him off.

“Thank you, we'll have a drink to remember you,” he said.

Gideon smiled and nodded. Sharpe began checking her weapon.

“Come here,” Trevor said quietly. “I'll show you the way out.”

Slowly, with leaden heels, Trent and Drake came over to the terminal. A holographic map of the area popped up. Trevor quickly outlined the most efficient route to the exit that would take them nearest to the exterior landing pad and the Dark Ops ship. Trent felt numb, but also experienced a thin hope that it was at least still there.

“Once I start, you've got about ten minutes to get the hell out of here,” Trevor said.

“Cutting it kind of close,” Drake murmured.

“Yeah, but that's the way it goes. But...well, listen. You need to kind of stick around and make sure the job gets done. Trust me, you'll know it when you see it. But if more than ten minutes goes by and this place isn't vaporized....then you need to...I don't know. Do something else.”

“Like what?” Trent asked.

“I don't know...fuck. How to do it is in the central database.”

“Here,” Sharpe said, passing him an infoclip. “Everything we had was in there. The instructions should be in there. Figure it out, then come back and finish the job.”

“All right,” Trent said. He hesitated, then lifted his hand. Sharpe stared at it for a moment, then reached up and grabbed it, squeezed hard. Trent squeezed back. It was an old merc gesture, the closest thing they had to solidarity. “Good meeting you.”

“You too,” Sharpe said tightly.

Trent grabbed Gideon's hand and squeezed, then, after a moment's hesitation, did the same with Trevor. Even if he was a corporate dog, he was giving it all up without hesitation. Drake looked like he was about to do the same, but opted to hug the thin technician instead. They all said goodbye in their own way.

“Come on, let's go,” Trent said, turning.

He and Drake made their way back out to the corridor. They didn't look back. It would have been somehow insulting.

As the pair began running down the corridor, they heard the awful sounds of the base coming to life around them.

Trent knew that this next part wouldn't be easy.

Chapter 18

–
The End
–

Every opening, every door, every hatch, every vent, began birthing horrors.

Trent and Drake had managed to jog a dozen meters before they found themselves surrounded by all manner of madness given form. Everything they had encountered so far was coming for them with teeth and claws and ill intent.

The pair of mercenaries didn't miss a beat as they shouldered their rifles, kept on running and switched to the full auto function. Triggers were squeezed and twin streams of lead shrieked out at high velocities. Trent sighted a Harvester and blew the top of its skull away in a spray of bullets, then turned the deadly barrage onto a pair of Fiends, spraying the area with their dark blood and then finishing off the magazine by putting holes in a Spitter.

“This is going to be a problem!” Trent shouted, reloading.

“I managed to hang onto a pair of grenades, you got any?” Drake replied.

“No, none.”

“Shit. Okay, get ready, going to blow a hole in their ranks.” Drake was already priming the grenades. As soon as he finished the sentence he tossed them ahead, into the thickest cluster of enemies in between them and their goal.

Trent squeezed his eyes shut and turned away. There were a pair of sharp explosions that were mostly muffled by the sheer amount of enemies. Bodies flew in every direction. Trent and Drake pushed their advantage, emptying their magazines into the survivors stumbling about, putting down anything in their way.

A moment later they were at the end of the corridor, through the doorway there and into another room, one step closer to escape. Drake seemed to have picked up something of an understanding of the light pads and their symbols, enough to hit the one that closed and locked the door behind them. Trent began putting down the things that stood between them and their next doorway, but was immensely grateful for the relative peace that had fallen.

“Won't hold for long,” Drake growled as he joined Trent.

They crossed the room, cut down a half-dozen Harvesters and got to the other door. Opening it, they found themselves in more familiar territory. No longer were they inside the Cyr building, but instead had come to a small complex of rooms and corridors that had been built onto the side of the structure. Something about the familiarity of the structure released a tiny fragment of stress from Trent.

The pair hurried down the more reasonably-sized corridor they'd come to after locking the door behind them. Trent reviewed the rest of the path in his head. It was extremely simple. All they had to do was get through this corridor and the room beyond it, and they'd be outside, to the landing pads and, hopefully, their salvation.

They reached the first door and came into a lobby that was suspiciously empty. Trent hurried over to the door while Drake made sure nothing popped in uninvited. He hit the access button and was rewarded with an unhappy chirp. He cursed sharply and hit the button again, and once more after receiving a similar response.

“It's fucking locked!” he snapped, stepping back.

“Here, cover me,” Drake said, hurrying across the room and kneeling to get a better view of the panel.

Trent turned and kept watch. Between the two of them, Drake was definitely smarter, and though he was no certified technician, he knew his way at least vaguely around technology. Thirty heart-pounding seconds went by, then Drake cursed sharply.

“What is it?” Trent asked.

“It's fucking locked down!” Drake snapped, standing.

“Fuck, now what? Is there another exit?”

“They're probably all locked down and the windows are too powerful to break, not without a-fuck, okay, follow me! Got a plan!” he shouted, taking off through one of the other doors in the room.

Trent heaved a sigh and hurried after him. “What are you doing?! We don't have time for this!”

“We might have just enough time,” Drake replied.

He came to a door at the end of the corridor and slapped the access button. This door did open, at least. Drake disappeared into the room. Trent came to the end of the corridor, looked around and took some small amount of solace in the fact that they were still alone. But he could hear shrieking, groaning and some kind of awful wet sound off in the distance. The chorus of the damned, coming to claim their souls.

For whatever they were worth.

Trent came into the room and saw what Drake had come for. They were in an armory. Shelves and crates and tables, most of them barren. But a pair of slim, silver lockers at the back of the room seemed to have caught Drake's attention.

“What's going on?” Trent asked.

“We're going to blast our fucking way out,” Drake replied, tearing open one of the lockers and crouching before it.