“That’s better. I don’t see any sign of the tracker anymore,
and I’m reading full connection and sound encryption. How are things on your
end?”
Damon nearly laughed because a new icon had appeared in the
corner of his HUD; a dancing smiley-face with Ken’s name on it. “Everything
looks great,” he told Gregor.
“Sure does!” Ken’s voice sounded in his ear, and Damon felt
a moment of fear when he was sure Gregor must have heard it too.
“Good, that should fix it then,” Gregor replied. Damon
laughed for real this time. “What?” Gregor sounded irritated, “So you were
right, no need to abort.”
“Next time, don’t question me!” He said as he started
jogging across the roof toward the target. “Let’s go,” is all he said before
initiating radio silence. Gregor’s icon blinked red, while Ken’s stayed in
place. “Are you still there?” He asked tentatively.
“I’m here, but your other friend is blocked out of
communications.” Ken replied, much to Damon’s relief.
“Great. What have you learned about the target? Anything
outside of my official briefing?” Damon asked while moving from rooftop to
rooftop in his approach. He stopped before entering the target’s stronghold
perimeter. The next building looked nearly the same as all the others, but his
briefing intelligence told him that he would probably be detected once he moved
in any closer. He wanted to hear what Ken had found out before proceeding.
To his irritation, Ken responded with a question. “So what
did they tell
you
about this target?”
Damon read from his mission briefing, “Walfrid Metzenberg,
sentenced to death for sedition, weapons hording, and unlicensed research and
production.” Damon reviewed the other details in his HUD. “The rest is maps,
tactical assessments, etc. Right now I’m just outside the perimeter of a
building cleverly named ‘Plant Number Three.’ I plan to take it out with some
special high-yield explosives I’ve got in my pack. Do you have anything to add?”
“Absolutely! The Council has decided to kill people for
unlicensed research and production? Why are they so afraid of research? How do
they expect us to improve if we can’t research?”
“I don’t think they’re afraid, they just want to keep
research under their control, for safety. They want to protect the people,”
Damon replied as he surveyed the main entrance to Plant Number Three using
passive sensors.
“Protect the people?” Ken became animated, “Protect the
people from
what?
”
“Well, from guys like Walfrid Metzenberg, I guess. What if
he developed something dangerous? Who would keep him from hurting people with
it?” Damon didn’t like the look of the front entrance, it was too far away.
“That’s what SecForce is for; that’s what
you
are
for!” Ken sounded angry.
“It makes more sense to me to send me in
before
he
does something bad, rather than after.”
Damon took a running start to launch himself at the side of
the next building. “This way not as many people get hurt,” he said while flying
through the air. The sound of smashing masonry drowned out the signal for a few
seconds.
“Subtle as ever,” Ken commented, some of his anger
forgotten. “Seriously, though, the Council can’t expect to keep such a tight
lid on research, it stifles our progress as a civilization. Our rate of advancement
has slowed to a crawl over the history of the Consensus.”
Damon’s human cannonball act smashed a hole through the wall
of the factory and he found himself standing on the floor of a manufacturing
plant. Alarms sounded in the distance, and his sensors tracked a dozen guards
heading his way. He flicked his wrists to reveal the barrels of the
small-caliber slug guns. The motion wasn’t necessary, but he liked the feel of
it.
“I’ve gotta go to work,” he said to Ken. “I trust that the
Council knows a lot more about this guy than we do. If they say he’s dangerous,
I believe them.”
Ken grumbled, “Well, I don’t like it. This guy looks too
much like
me
for my comfort. I’ve performed unauthorized research too—will
you be sent to kill me someday?”
Damon froze, his heart suddenly beating hard against his
chest.
Once again the memory of Shrigauri Krych popped into his
head.
You’re a pawn . . . you’re
being used . . . you’re killing your own people . . .
The first pair of guards rounded the
corner of a nearby machine and called out to him, snapping his attention back
to the present. They held their autorifles pointed down, threatening but not
engaging him.
Big mistake,
Damon thought. He triggered the slug guns on
his left wrist and swung his arm toward them. The rapid-firing weapons nearly
sliced the men in half before either could bring his weapon to bear.
“
Kyndra Dickson!
A single shot would have sufficed!”
Ken said loudly in his ear, the shock palpable in his speech.
Without replying, Damon picked up one man’s radio. Holding
it in his hand, his internal systems analyzed the frequency and encryption used
by the unit. In a matter of seconds, he had access to the communications
channels and began monitoring their activity. Dropping the radio, he removed
four high explosive charges from his pack, which was actually a storage
compartment built into his upper back. Working quickly, he followed the
directions in his HUD for optimal placement of the charges and set them for
‘dead-man’ detonation so they would explode when they lost a signal from him.
The equipment in this room was large, and he found himself
climbing over and around the running machinery. He knew that his D-SAP armor
was nearly indestructible, but he did not want to test it against the massive
and fast-moving parts whirling all around him. The guards were in general
disarray after finding the bodies of their comrades, which told Damon that they
were not seasoned veterans.
Too easy,
he thought, although the little
voice in the back of his head warned him against getting too cocky.
After placing the final charge and dropping to the floor,
Damon prepared for the attack that was finally being coordinated by someone
with experience. He watched the red target dots moving to surround him and he
prepared to take them out quickly. Since he was not worried about collateral
damage, he left his slug guns active on both wrists and moved casually toward
the nearest group of guards. When he came within sight, they immediately opened
fire with their autorifles, which were powerful enough for Damon to feel each
impact. Regardless, he stopped directly in their line of fire making a show of
their ineffectual gunfire and trying to intimidate them. Slowly and
deliberately he raised his left hand and fired a couple hundred rounds with the
slug gun, disrupting the group in front of him and breaking up their attack.
Off to his right a new group of guards opened fire, and he turned casually and
brushed them off with a shower of high-velocity slugs from his right wrist.
With smoke trailing dramatically from the barrels at both
wrists, he jogged toward the next target. Sporadic gunfire was the only
resistance, which he met with his own kinetic weapon fire.
“Using up ammo rather quickly,” Ken commented.
Stealing a glance at his ammo levels he realized he would
have to dial back on the rate of fire, or switch over to energy weapons, which
would use up more of his power reserves. Somewhat reluctantly, he cut the rate
of fire in half, and estimated that would give him plenty of ammunition for the
job, even if it took longer to eliminate each target.
And it’s not nearly as
much fun,
Damon lamented. He was still hesitant to use power unless
absolutely necessary.
Which also means I shouldn’t stand directly in the
line of fire, either, since every hit uses a little power to maintain the armor
integrity.
Sighing out loud, Damon decided it was time to get more serious
and stop playing around.
“You win,” he said to Ken as he moved toward the next
building.
“Wait,” Ken said quickly and Damon stopped.
“What is it,” he asked and initiated a short-range sensor
sweep.
“Nothing threatening,” Ken added in response to Damon’s tone.
“Can you run a deep scan over the building before you blow it?”
“Sure, but then everyone will know I’m here.”
“I’m pretty sure your oh-so-stealthy approach thus far
hasn’t kept you very secret,” Ken replied sarcastically.
“True enough—you win again,” Damon snorted in a wry
half-laugh and initiated the scan through the building behind him. He sent the data
to Ken for analysis as he crossed the small open square bordered by four
nondescript buildings.
Before he could reach the second target building, he was
knocked off his feet and slammed face-first into a wall.
That kinda hurt,
he thought, rubbing his forehead as he scanned the area for threats.
His HUD informed him that it was a small shell impact and
explosion, most likely fired from the building across the square. Damon
inspected the likely point of origin but saw nothing using his passive
scanners.
Obviously, they already know where I am
, he thought as he
mentally flicked on his active sensor suite. Immediately, his HUD displayed two
reticles marking the men running away across the rooftop out of his direct line
of sight.
Damon deployed launch tubes which emerged from his upper
back near the shoulder blades and fired off two small anti-personnel missiles. He
let his active sensors track the men and guide the missiles unerringly to them.
Even though the missiles were autonomous, he still watched them in his HUD
until they exploded into small clouds of high-velocity flak that killed the men
instantly.
He quickly swept the area with his active sensors, noted the
converging guards, and then shut them down. His HUD would continue to mark the
guards’ last known location and attempt to predict their movements when it
could not track them in passive mode.
Turning back to the task at hand, he punched the wall
previously damaged by his face, and entered the next factory. He decided to
sheathe the slug guns in favor of the more subtle Extruded Combat Blades in
acknowledgement that Ken had a good point. He extended blades into both hands,
making them as thick and long as possible.
No one contested his movements in the second factory and he
soon had the charges placed and prepared to move to the last building. Before
he created a new exit in the nearest wall, a target popped up on his HUD,
marked only with an ominous “unidentified” tag.
Damon’s heart accelerated and pounded on his ribs.
“Ken, are you seeing this contact?”
“Yeah, I see it,” Ken replied, obviously distracted, “but I
can’t tell what it is either.” Damon heard him tapping on his screen in the
background as the indicator methodically approached.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Damon said as he started
jogging toward the target. “He’s coming up fast.” Damon queried his HUD for
target speed, and it indicated that the object was moving just over 15 meters
per second.
Some sort of vehicle.
Since the target was approaching
directly with no attempt to stay hidden, a nervous knot formed in Damon’s stomach.
He didn’t like surprises. As he angled toward the main hallway in order to get
a visual on the target, he checked his power level.
“. . . 75% . . .”
Good enough,
he thought confidently. When he entered
the main hallway and faced his adversary, he skidded to a halt. He had expected
a vehicle, but not the type now coming at him. It was fairly small, maybe a
meter high, a meter wide, and two meters long. It rode on six sets of wheels,
each apparently independent from the others. On top was small oblong turret
sporting two sets of multi-barrel guns of unknown capability but appeared to be
kinetic weapons. Damon hesitated while he inspected the vehicle, but the weapon
platform wasted no time and immediately began firing.
The multi-barrels spewed high-velocity, high-density rounds
at a rate Damon could not estimate, nor imitate. The projectiles hit him full
in the chest, knocking him completely off his feet and sending him skidding
across the floor. The impact of the multiple rounds hurt even through the D-SAP.
Damon tried to right himself or rise to a crouch, but the bullets kept coming
and never seemed to miss, even as he was tossed around by their impacts.
Changing tactics, he rolled in the direction the bullets
were pushing him until he came to a side passageway. He scrabbled across the
floor on his hands and feet, and managed to propel himself into the opening.
The bullet stream attempted to follow, but cut off once he was out of the line
of fire. His HUD informed him that the vehicle had picked up speed and would be
on top of him in three seconds. Damon decided he had no other choice and
powered up the Trip-PC. The charge indicator in the HUD still showed only
partial power when the vehicle came to the corner, but Damon overrode the
controls and fired immediately. The power of the cannon was not optimal, but
the close range made it quite effective, and smashed in the front of the
vehicle destroying the turret and the guns as well. Immediately, the vehicle
began moving away as fast as it had approached.
“Oh no you don’t,” Damon said out loud as he sprinted in
pursuit. Jumping to cover the last few feet, he extruded his combat blades and
landed on top of the crippled vehicle, slicing through the axles on either side
with two long sweeps. The vehicle skidded to a halt, vibrating unevenly as the
stubs of the axles continued to spin in an attempt to escape.
He stood on top of the vehicle as a hunter over his prey,
breathing heavily, and feeling slightly shaken. “Ken, what is this thing?” he
asked.