Metal Gear Solid: Guns of the Patriot (38 page)

The entrance to the hallway leading to the server room was located in
Haven
’s CIC.

But this was nothing like any command center Snake had ever seen. He cautiously stepped into the room, M4 at the ready, shocked to find the space so wildly unreal. The initials CIC conjured an image of a stifling room stuffed with monitors and computers and a transparent plotting board standing in the center.

But this was like a stadium.

Each side of the octagonal, domed space descended down platformed levels to the central floor. Giant consoles, arrayed in tiers around the entire room, would have provided space for incredible numbers of operators to perform their duties. Floating above the eight-sided central space was our little rock, peaceful for the first time in a long while—a giant hologram of Earth.

The expanse of the room was ridiculous. Snake allowed his contempt to register on his face. The space felt less a command center than a stock exchange trading floor, or a conference hall at an international convention center. With some disgust, Snake stepped under the giant canopy.

In truth, the room wasn’t for commanding
Haven
’s battles.

It was for commanding the world; the embodiment of so-called “super crunching,” the distillation and homogenization of our surroundings into massive statistical datasets; the courtroom for our new gods to judge a reality extracted from exabytes of data. The space had been designed to compile data coming in from networks across the globe, and with that data chart the course of events, reshaping them into the narrative desired by the Patriots.

“Snake,” I said, “be careful. I doubt this place is empty.”

The walkway Snake had taken into the room cut through the tiers like the entrance to the seating in a stadium or a theater. Sighting down his M4 for threats along the side platforms and ceiling, Snake moved with silent steps.

Then, as he swung his rifle to the center of the hall, he saw her lying there.

Meryl.

Snake recoiled back to hide himself from possible threat. He cursed under his breath and used the Solid Eye’s zoom lens to observe Meryl, curled at the base of the virtual globe. Her wrists and ankles were bound in cable ties, and she lay helpless on the ground.

“Damn. Snake,” I shouted, “it’s a trap!”

I was sure he already knew. This was a situation he’d encountered before. Nine years ago, on Shadow Moses, Meryl had taken point, when Wolf shot her legs to hold her in place, turning the woman into bait to lure Snake out.

Snake, who had managed to duck behind cover, couldn’t do anything. Meryl was on her back, bleeding out, but Snake knew that the instant he poked his head out to help, the world’s greatest sniper would send a bullet to open a hole in him.

That was how snipers worked. They hunted their enemies through their rifle scopes, out of range of regular soldiers. Regular infantry often killed in self-defense, but snipers shot only to kill.

Snake felt the same helplessness again.

You never can protect anyone. Frank’s scream as Liquid crushed him with the REX echoed through Snake’s mind. Emma, Naomi, all the people wrapped up in the Snakes’ fates whom I couldn’t protect.

“Is this the only way into the server room?” Snake asked impatiently, pulling up the ship’s schematic on his Solid Eye.

I nodded. “Yeah. You have to get through the blast-proof door in the CIC. They know it’s our only way in.”

“The perfect place to leave their bait. The troopers must be waiting to see which entrance I come through.”

“Should I send in a decoy?”

“The Mk. III is needed to upload the worm to GW. If I die, we haven’t necessarily failed. But one hole in the robot’s little body, and we’re finished.”

Meryl didn’t appear to be in much pain. But once our unseen ambushers knew Snake had arrived, they wouldn’t necessarily kill her in one shot. They’d riddle her with bullets, just as Wolf had done to draw Snake out.

This wasn’t the time to be overcome by helplessness. Snake had to move. But Snake couldn’t think of what to do, and in the meantime, anxiety sent adrenaline into his bloodstream, taxing his already overburdened heart.

Just then, a figure appeared in the opposite hallway, sprinting into the room.

“Meryl!” he shouted.

That fool. Snake clicked his tongue and ran forward.

It was Johnny. I don’t know how he crawled out of the ocean, but here he was, dripping wet. He must have nearly drowned and been forced to ditch his weapon in the water, for he was completely unarmed, with only the bulletproof vest left to protect him.

Johnny’s legs were much quicker than Snake’s, whose hardened and attenuated tendons only permitted limited movement. By the time Snake took his first step, Johnny was already out of the entryway, beneath the dome, and in the snipers’ field of view.

Snake shouted, “Johnny!”

Johnny dove to cover Meryl. In a flash, the space around his head was filled with a crimson mist.

To Snake, who was already struggling with the feeling of being powerless, the sight was like salt rubbed into the wound. The injuries spanning Snake’s body and the pain of his heart seemed only illusory in comparison.

Seeing the young man collapse before him, Snake was torn by waves of self-loathing. But the instincts that made him the legendary man drove his body to action. In an instant, he deduced the bullet’s trajectory and pinpointed the shooter’s perch. He wrenched his upper body to face the direction and squeezed the trigger on his M4.

The shot pierced through the bridge of the sniper’s nose and passed out the back of his head, where the helmet remained intact, inside of which mixed brain and bone fragments like scrambled eggs.

Of course, more than this man alone awaited Snake.
Haven
troopers appeared from behind consoles and unleashed a volley of bullets. Snake, ducking behind the platform beneath the hologram, cut through Meryl’s bonds with his stun knife, and the two dragged an immobile Johnny to the blast-proof door leading to the server room.

Meryl quickly inspected Johnny’s injury. He had not been hit in the head, but rather in his shoulder. The bullet had passed straight through, though the wound was serious. Meryl withdrew a medical kit from a tactical pouch and stopped the bleeding.

The blast door was at the very back of the CIC, sheltered from the troopers’ line of fire. But enemy reinforcements continued to pour into the room. If they pushed in with their numbers, Snake and Meryl wouldn’t be able to hold them back.

Meryl drew her Desert Eagle, checked the chamber, and said, “Go on without me. This time, I’ll protect you.”

“Meryl …”

“Go. Destroy GW while there’s still time. While I’m still alive.”

While I’m still alive.

At those words, Snake realized his arrogance. He couldn’t leave the sins of the Snakes to the world where Meryl, and everyone else, would live. He himself would take on the task and set things right. So he had rigidly believed.

But this young woman was fighting for her future—fighting to retake the future Snake and I had stolen from her. Not that I ever thought she blamed us. Meryl came to this battle believing it was her fight.

A world where we can live. A world where family and friends support each other, bear children, and pass down our stories through the generations.

Snake and I had been conceited to think the struggle to reclaim that world was ours alone. We had continued to fight out of a sense of responsibility. But while Snake fought for the past, Meryl risked her life for the future.

How much more value was within the setting up of guideposts to an uncertain future, over making up for transgressions already committed? This much was simple: pushing a heavy rock up a hill was harder than rolling it down. Snake realized, in the depth of his being, that this soldier at his side faced a battle far more difficult than his own.

And so he must complete his duty.

“Snake,” Meryl said, “the corridor ahead is drenched in microwaves.”

Snake nodded. The microwaves would wash over him from all directions and excite the molecules of water in his body. His skin, his muscles, his heart—every part of his body containing any water—would cook.

This was the end for them. Meryl held up her left arm. Snake wrapped his arm inside hers—a gesture between soldiers, and between friends.

“We’ll meet again on the other side,” Meryl said.

And Snake disappeared behind the hatch.

Meryl leveled her Desert Eagle at the
Haven
troopers and began to fire. Deep in her chest, she held on to what Campbell had told her after we left them in
Missouri
’s briefing room.

As long as you have life, you must finish your duty.

Not exactly a father’s words to his daughter. Maybe more a commanding officer to his soldier. But Campbell had spent the majority of his life as a soldier, and those were the only words he could find. Believing them the only way to convey his true feelings, he shared them with his daughter.

No matter what happens, I’ll be with you till the very end.

As he spoke, Meryl finally understood. With little time remaining before the battle, recognizing her as an able soldier was the only way he had of expressing his fondness for her.

You are my pride and joy
.

Those were his last words.

She had to be worthy of his pride. She had to be the soldier Campbell believed her to be.

Under the overwhelming firepower of the
Haven
troopers, Campbell’s words gave Meryl support, and she held steadfast, protecting the doorway to the server room. The woman there was no longer the little girl with a crush on the legendary man.

She was a soldier.

With eyes full of resolve, she gazed toward a future that needed her protection. She was strong, and she was a beautiful warrior. A true
sakimori.

4

WHILE SNAKE RUSHED into the hallway leading to the server room, giants overran
Missouri
’s deck.

With
Missouri
clinging to her hull,
Haven
couldn’t launch her VLS missiles. At this close range, any launched warheads might strike either ship. Even those that connected with
Missouri
could send debris flying to tear through
Haven
’s armor. Careless destruction of the battleship could send both vessels into the sea.

Haven,
denied use of the tremendous firepower of the VLS and MLRS weapons, changed tactics, opting instead to tear
Missouri
apart. And
Haven
had a great number of machines on board that could do just that.

Haven
’s guards, the unmanned RAYs, cut through water, shot into the sky, and landed on the old battleship’s deck, their claws gouging into the wood. Again the ship rocked, and several of the deck crew were thrown into the sea. Some of the bridge staff hit their heads, suffering concussions, and lost consciousness.

“Dr. Emmerich,” Mei Ling said, “it’s too dangerous for you on the bridge. Get below deck.”

She stared unflinchingly at the looming, ominous face of an unmanned RAY on the other side of the bridge window.

“But—”

“This is a military vessel, and I’m the captain. This is a military operation, and I have command. That was an order. Follow it.”

I did. Notebook in hand, I fled down the rumbling ladderway. She was right, anyway; in those conditions, I wouldn’t have been able to support Snake or to upload the worm. I worried for Mei Ling, but such attention would only get in her way. Besides, she was the captain, and this was her ship.

One RAY stood in front of a three-gun turret, which Mei Ling ordered to open zero-degree fire. The shell obliterated the robot’s torso and split the RAY’s body in two.

I wondered if I didn’t need to worry about our younger comrades after all. Mei Ling was a real captain.

Of course, that didn’t mean I felt Snake and I could abandon our reparations. As long as we could ease the battles of those who faced the future, even if only by a little, we had to. And since we had sown the seeds of conflict, the duty was ours all the more.

I descended from the bridge and ran back to the briefing room.

“Snake, what’s your situation?”