Shedding the Demon (20 page)

Damon breathed a sigh of relief “That was easy,” he said to
Ken. “Now I suggest a distraction.” Without waiting for a response, he canceled
the signal keeping the high explosives in standby. Almost immediately, massive
explosions rocked the area, breaking windows and causing a small nearby
building to collapse. The defense forces were thrown into disarray. Damon laughed,
“Now let’s isolate them.” He brought his electronic warfare suite online and
began scrambling all local communications.

Wasting no more time, he sprinted toward the next MWP. He
rounded the corner and found himself looking directly into the barrels of the
machine only ten feet away. He stopped and braced himself for the impact, but
none came. He cursed himself for losing the initiative. He had forgotten about
his new ‘stealth-mode.’ Realizing that the platform might detect him at any
moment, he jumped onto the front of the machine and activated the discharge.
Once again, the unit went down without a fight.

Standing triumphantly on top of his latest victim, Damon was
suddenly knocked through the air and sent skidding along the ground. He hadn’t
felt an impact, but his HUD was scrambled and many of his command systems were
faltering. His communication with Ken was garbled and incoherent. Damon was
disoriented and had trouble moving.

All of his limbs felt unusually heavy and sluggish, but he
was able to force his head up to see that the third MWP had arrived.

This platform was much larger than the other two, about
twice the size, and had a single u-shaped attachment on its turret that looked
to Damon like a tuning fork. Since his HUD and sensors were completely garbled,
he had no idea what the MWP was pumping out. He found that he could barely move
and the assault was physically pressing him into the pavement. He tried to
raise his hands to fire the Trip-PC, but couldn’t bring either one to bear. The
MWP kept moving in a circle around him making targeting impossible under the
circumstances. He could feel the physical effects of the attack, but it was not
as painful as other hits he’d taken in the past. However, the immobility would
quickly become a problem. He stopped trying to aim his guns, and concentrated
instead on gaining some control of his systems. Slowly, he was able to improve
the HUD resolution and what he saw nearly caused him to panic.

A bright-red icon in the center of his vision indicated that
the D-SAP was destabilizing and would soon lose coherence.
Kyndra’s soaking
tears!
he cursed futilely and thrashed around trying to do something and
everything at once.

Once the mindless panic subsided, he gathered his wits and
took manual control his weapons systems. As the MWP came around near his head
again, he ejected two high-explosive grenades to roll along the pavement and
detonate directly under the unit. The explosion threw the machine into the air
and tipped it away from him, making it impossible for the weapon to maintain
its attack.

Damon’s mobility returned immediately and he leapt into
motion, chasing down the platform before it landed. The MWP crashed on its side
and quickly swiveled its drive units downward in an attempt to right itself. In
less than a second, Damon guessed, it would be able to resume its attack. His
HUD flickered to life, but his main control systems were not yet functional, so
he had no idea how much power he had available.

Running as fast as his augmented legs could carry him, he
smashed into the underside of the MWP, punching with all his strength using
both hands while simultaneously firing every kinetic weapon he could bring to
bear at once. The tactic worked as it created a small breach in the unit’s
armor that Damon used to peel it open, and finish the job by tearing out the
unit’s controls from the inside. The physical attack gave him a great feeling
of satisfaction after the fear this MWP had caused him.

“. . . 22% . . .”

He had plenty of power to finish this mission now that the
platforms were dispatched. He decided he could safely use a mix of energy and
kinetic weapons to get the job done.

The guards he met offered little resistance, and none seemed
prepared for him. Without their communications, with explosions and fires all
around them, and seeing how Damon dispatched the MWPs, they had lost all
semblance of professionalism and many deserted outright.

Finally, standing face-to-face with Metzenberg, the man
predictably attempted to talk Damon out of killing him. Damon no longer
listened to the pleas and arguments, since he still carried Shrigauri Krych’s
voice around in his head.

 

 

These were the words that continued
to haunt him day and night. The words he could not exorcise from his memory.
Damon heard them again now, even while ignoring the man in front of him.
I’m
not like you
, he thought, directed at the memory of Krych,
I’m not
killing my own. I’M NOT!

“. . . Drives, not weapons,
if you’d only
looked first
! Rev—”

Damon cut off the man’s excuses with a high-powered laser
through the forehead.

“Ken, I’m heading back. Right after I report to Gregor.”

“Wait, Damon, I’m sending in some guys to pick up any equipment
we might be able to use.”

“You’re what?” Damon asked, perplexed.

“I’m sending in a team to recover some of the equipment you
found. We could use this stuff, and I hate leaving it all behind! I’ve got
plenty of old freighters I can bring in to hold it.”

“Do you trust these guys?”

“I’ve worked with them before, and they don’t ask questions
as long as we pay them well.”

Damon’s HUD indicated incoming aircraft, and he tensed,
activating his weapons systems in response.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Ken said, “that’s them, don’t take 'em
out.”

Damon didn’t like idea, especially once he realized they
were bringing twenty ships, some of which were very large. “I don’t want them
to see me, just in case.”

“That’s fine, I can take care of this. You can clear out.”

“All right,” Damon growled, “but I better not regret this!”
Damon jogged out of sight into the city, to contact Gregor from there. The time
alone was not welcome, however, as he could still hear the last words of his
target echoing in his head.

 

Reave Nachman checked his HUD one
more time to make sure he had the right place. He stood on the street outside a
house that matched the address he’d found while tracking down Dr. Tashus’s
friends and associates. His first four leads had apparently been tipped off and
left nothing behind but evidence of hasty departures. He was forced to admit
that they were good at disappearing.

The house in front of him was brightly lit and he could see
people moving around inside. He caught a glimpse of the woman’s face and it
matched his files perfectly. Unconvinced that everything was as it appeared, he
decided to take the direct approach anyway.

He drew one of his small pistols, which immediately changed
his HUD to targeting mode for that particular weapon. The movement in his arm
and hand holding the gun took on a strange, disconnected feeling as if it were
partially numb. The system integrated into his motor skills, ready to direct
his aim as needed, but made him feel slightly out of control. He hadn’t had
much time to train with the new system, and the feeling was still uncomfortable.
He knew that he was supposed to let the hand and arm move without his conscious
thought, but he still found himself instinctively fighting against the outside
control.

Wary of an ambush, he switched on his active sensors, which
gathered feedback from various energy patterns he didn’t understand. The
overall effect enhanced his vision, allowing him to see through most obstacles
as he wished. The active sensors were easy for others to detect, but he felt
the risk was worth it, since he was unsure of the situation. He made a quick
scan of the area and found nothing out of the ordinary. He instructed the
system to warn him of any incoming targets and walked casually toward the front
door of the house.

He located the four occupants of the house: two adults in
the living room right inside the door and two children in the back rooms.
Easy!

He kicked down the door without slowing, entered the living
room and snapped off two quick rounds into the lower legs of both adults. The
targeting system ensured hits on the tibia, rendering them effectively
immobile.

Reave ignored the screams, pleas, and threats from the
adults in the living room and collected the children from the bedrooms. He
dragged out both kids, a boy and a girl, and tossed them in a heap next to
their parents. He didn’t bother tying them up or even threatening them, since he
could shoot them well before they could move to escape. The children were
crying, huddled up against their parents, who had both regained some composure
despite the pain.

Reave felt the blood rushing through his body as he basked
in the power of his dominance. Their pain and fear fed his lust, and part of
him wished they would hold out against his questioning, as he looked forward to
breaking their wills and forcefully extracting the information.

Then again
, he thought,
I am in a hurry.
He
sighed and some of his excitement faded. He realized they had been pleading
with him, but he wasn’t listening.

“All right, shut up and tell me where to find Dr. Joann
Tashus,” he said without preamble.

Both parents looked shocked when he said the name, and he
knew that they had seen her recently. “Well,” he added, “start talking.” He
aimed the gun at the younger child, a girl.

“No, please,” the father said, “we don’t know where she is!”

“That may be true, but it doesn’t help me. Strike one.”
Reave squeezed the trigger and shot the girl in the foot. She screamed in pain
and drew her foot up close to her body. Both parents started yelling at him at
once.

Shaking his head, he reached down, grabbed the girl by the
ankle and pulled her to him. “Start talking so I can understand you,” and he
lifted the girl by her mangled foot.

“STOP!” The mother wailed over the girl’s screams, “We’ll
tell you everything we know!”

“Now that’s better,” Reave said and dropped the girl
roughly, feeling slightly disappointed.

Twenty minutes later he left the house and its four corpses
behind, armed with a list of contacts, fake identities, and secure one-time
links. He whistling softly to himself as he walked down the street.

 

**** ****

 

“We’re running out of time,” Renard said while standing at the
window of his office watching the caldera waterfalls. He generally retreated to
this view when he was anxious or aggravated. Recently, he seemed to find
himself here much more often. Today he received no comfort or serenity from the
ritual.

Jeffrey didn’t respond, he probably assumed Renard had more
to add.

“We are running out of time,” he repeated in a habit born from
his sermons, “before we lose all control over the Demon and subsequently the
Council.”

Jeffrey continued his silence, the tapping on his screen the
only sound in the room. Renard made a conscious effort to release the pressure
on his jaws, suddenly aware that he was clenching. The pain and stiffness told
him he’d held them that way for a long time.

“I thought we had him with the weapons platforms,” Renard
continued, “but he found a way out.”

“It
was
close,” Jeffrey ventured, “next time we need
to deploy more.”

Renard grunted and turned toward his friend. “Do we have
anything more powerful?” He didn’t like the look on Jeffrey’s face.

“Those were the best platforms we have, but we can certainly
get more on site. If we have more time to prepare.”

 “How is Pryke finding these targets and how does he get
them on the list without us finding his influence?”

Renard knew his question hit Jeffrey hard, since this was
his personal area of expertise. He watched the emotions on Jeffrey’s face, and
felt bad for being so blunt with his friend.
Truth is,
he thought
regretfully,
we need to find out how Pryke’s doing it so we can counter him.
Jeffrey is great, but sometimes he needs a little push.

Both men were quiet for long minutes.

Finally, Jeffrey spoke, “I need to know the next target. Can
you find that for me right away?”

Renard nodded.

“Good. We can start moving men and equipment as soon as we
know where he’s going next. However, we still need more time. With your
permission, I’ll dig deep and find ways to delay the operation.”

“How will you do that?” Renard wondered.

Jeffrey grunted. “You don’t really want to know. But with
the right amount of counter-intelligence, we should be able to delay the
mission long enough to get everything in place.”

Renard smiled, “I’ll get you whatever you need, just tell me
what to do.”

“I know,” Jeffrey said quietly as a predatory smile grew. “Oh,
and by the way, the team finished the weapon, so we’ll have a nice new surprise
for the Demon as well.”

 

**** ****

 

Joann cleared away the dishes from
the last table of the day and looked forward to heading back to the apartment.
She quickly scanned the screen on the table to collect the tip left by the
patrons. She checked the amount and shrugged. Not bad. As she made her way back
to the kitchen, she stole a glance at the clock on the wall.
Quitting time,
she
thought with relief.

After stowing her uniform in a locker and changing into her
street clothes, she exited through the back of the building into an alleyway.
There was a gray cat perched on the top of one of the garbage cans and it
looked her in the eye and meowed.

“Don’t I know it,” Joann said to the cat and then laughed at
herself, “I hate this working for a living, but we’ve got to keep up
appearances, now don’t we?” She quickly looked around, realizing how stupid she
was for speaking out loud. It was unlikely that anyone overhearing the
conversation would understand what she meant, but she felt vulnerable
nonetheless, and scurried down the alley on her way home.

It was only a short walk to her apartment, and she felt
uncomfortable the whole way there.
I’m just being paranoid,
she thought
angrily,
reacting to my stupid talk to the stupid cat!
Disgusted with
herself for being overly dramatic, she set about making a quick dinner.

While she worked in the kitchen her screen beeped with an
urgent incoming message. Curious, she stepped over to take a look.

An image of her friend Ted Khasan hovered in the corner and
she jabbed the icon to complete the connection.

His face was drawn and pale, and his eyes were wide and unfocused.
Her heart started pounding.

“Ted, what is it?”

“Kevin,” he said “and Lauren, and the kids.” His eyes darted
side to side but he would not look at her.

“What about them?” she asked, trying to keep her voice
level.

“They’re dead, Joann. Someone murdered them—and the kids!—and
burned their house down!”

Her knees buckled and she collapsed in a chair.

“What? How?” She couldn’t harness her swirling thoughts.

“Joann, they’re after you. Whoever it is, they’re looking
for
you
. If they got anything from Kevin, they could find you easily.
Don’t use your existing codes, I’ll have to get you some new ones—”

“Ted, don’t! Just keep everyone else safe, don’t worry about
me.”

He finally looked at her with red eyes. “I’ll do what I can.
But we have to cut this connection—now. Take care of yourself.”

She sat and stared at the empty screen trying to make sense
of what she’d heard.

Outside in the hallway, a muffled conversation caught her
attention. Hearing other people was not unusual in a cheap apartment with no
sound shielding, but something about the tone of the voices made her blood run
cold.

This was not a casual exchange. There was emphasis behind
the words on both sides, and the volume was rising.

Joann’s training from so many years ago kicked her into
action, and she ran into the bathroom. Behind a well-concealed panel on the
wall beside the shower ran a utility chase for the building. She had chosen
this particular apartment because it had the chase running through it, and she
had prepared her emergency escape for just this type of situation. Wasting no
time, she climbed into the cramped space and carefully replaced the panel. It
wouldn’t withstand close scrutiny, of course, but the poor condition of the
paint and the walls did a good job of hiding the panel from casual view.

Inside the chase, lodged in between the pipes and conduits
running vertically through the building, Joann carefully made her way down
toward the basement. She had hidden her Flight Bag at the bottom of the chase
since it was too difficult to maneuver between the pipes carrying something
heavy. As it was, she was already getting tired.

Barely five meters down the shaft, she heard a crash above
her and the surprise almost made her fall. She could hear stomping and shouting
above, which she assumed must be coming from her apartment. Trying to move
faster, she found that her clothes were catching on sharp corners and
protrusions that she hadn’t encountered in her test run.
Of course I wasn’t
actually being chased when I tried it out!

Soon her arms, hands, and legs were covered with small cuts
and scratches. Working her way down the shaft, she couldn’t spare a hand to
wipe her face and her vision soon became blurred with salty, stinging sweat.
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally reached the bottom of the shaft
in the basement of the apartment building.

It won’t take them long to find out where I went,
she
thought as she quickly pulled her sneakers, hooded sweatshirt, and pants from
her Flight Bag. She dressed quickly, shoving her replaced clothes and shoes
into the bag so as not to leave any evidence behind. She hadn’t heard anything
for a while, but that could be because she had traveled eight stories in her
escape.

She ran up a flight of stairs to the ground level and
stopped before exiting. She tried to act casual as she opened the door and
walked toward the cars parked in the employee lot outside. Once she reached the
first row of cars, she sprinted for the cover of a nearby park.

Behind her Joann heard the
woosh
of descending
aircraft and panicked. She dared a look back and tripped for her efforts,
landing hard on the ground in an awkward position. Pain shot through her knee, but
it was not debilitating. Lying on her back now, she could see that the aircraft
had passed by her and was landing near the building. Fortunately her pursuers
had not cordoned off the area. Sitting up and staying in the shadows of the
park, she watched events unfold before realizing that the dark might protect
her from human eyes, but she would be plainly visible to scanners. She stood up
and tested her knee. It would be all right for walking, but running would be a
problem.

Back at the apartment building, six aircraft had set up a
perimeter, and she had seen figures moving throughout the area and in the
building as they crossed in front of lit windows.

She pushed herself to keep walking, despite the guilty pain
of her friends’ murder that threatened to overwhelm her.

 

**** ****

 

Only a half-kilometer away, in a
different park, Reave Nachman was watching the commotion. This particular park
was on a high hill and had a beautiful view of the cityscape all around, which
he had intended to use to keep a watch for Joann. Now he had an excellent view
of someone stealing his prize.