The Phoenix Variant: The Fifth Column 3 (20 page)

‘Close the fucking door!’ Nasira yelled.

‘I’m trying!’ Aviary screamed back.

Nasira kept her pistol trained on the doorway to the MTA’s Operations Control Center. The big stupid metal door remained open and the only way to close it was remotely. Or electronically. Or Aviary-ly. And Nasira didn’t like that.

She could hear gunfire somewhere in the terminal and that was usually a good sign to get out of here. Not stay put in one place with no other means of escape and be a fucking idiot. But Aviary had a bright idea, which Nasira quickly realized was evolving into a suicide attempt.

Hunched over a computer in the center of the very long, expansive control center, Aviary worked a computer mouse and made a whole bunch of things jitter across a large screen on the wall. Which she noticed was actually twenty-one screens seamlessly joined.

The center was just two very long desks, each long enough to accommodate twenty operators. Flatscreen monitors hovered on floating mounts and wheeled office chairs were scattered across a horrible green-and-red striped carpet that reminded Nasira of boiled candy. The shitty kind.

‘We don’t have time, Aviary,’ she said.

Each panel twitched and became a security camera feed. That’s when Nasira noticed Blue Berets moving through the concourses. Some of the cameras showed Blue Berets with helmets. Others showed Blue Berets with ballistic masks. That wasn’t looking good.

The blue metal door groaned and slid closed. Nasira lowered her Glock. Thank fuck for that.

She turned to see Aviary shouting at the big screen.

‘It’s Sophia!’

And she was right. On one of the security camera feeds, Nasira saw Sophia move smoothly through the dining concourse. She held a sword in one hand and a Glock in the other. Pressed against her back was someone Nasira didn’t recognize. But she was helping her. And she was wielding a carbine.

‘Who’s with her?’ Nasira said.

‘Looks like that operative I was following, who was captured,’ Aviary said. ‘Same jacket.’

The woman with the carbine moved in step with Sophia, her shoulder pressed against Sophia’s back. They moved as one, covering all angles as a team. Nasira watched them cross between a café and a grid of commuter seating. They opened fire on opposing sides—Sophia punching rounds through her Glock, the other woman with her carbine.

Nasira watched curiously as the woman passed her carbine over Sophia’s back, the barrel aimed at the ceiling to avoid crossing Sophia’s body—very fast, very smooth—as she transitioned quickly from right to left-handed and opened fire again.

‘Operative,’ she said under her breath.

Sophia and her new friend continued from the south to the north wall, both now firing in the same direction. They reached the wall and bounced off again, progressing east along the concourse in a zigzag movement. Always together, always covering.

‘Why does she have a ninja sword?’ Aviary said.

‘Ninja don’t carry swords,’ Nasira said. ‘The more important question is why the fuck is she on point when she’s only got a pea-shooter and an oversized knife. That girl with her is rocking the only stopping power between ’em: she should be on point.’

Aviary shrugged. ‘Well, Sophia does have the Chimera vectors. She can heal faster and take more hits. Their survivability goes up, right? And she’s protecting that operative.’

‘Yeah, real nice of her,’ Nasira said. ‘No good when Sophia cops a round through that fat do-gooder head of hers. Aviary, just hurry up and do what—’

‘Done!’ Aviary said, a grin spreading from ear to ear.

Nasira strode over to inspect Aviary’s screen. It was a map of the subway network and all the operating tunnels. And all the trains.

‘I powered up all the tracks,’ Aviary said. ‘Well, the ones that aren’t flooded—which actually isn’t that many.’

Nasira looked at her. ‘And?’

‘I know where the trains are. We can use the trains,’ she said. ‘We can use
all
the trains. And I was thinking of growing my hair longer. And other interesting developments.’

‘Great,’ Nasira said.

She heard a voice outside the operations center. Someone was using a loudspeaker to communicate.

‘You’re pinned down and outnumbered,’ the voice boomed. ‘You can walk out now or we can fight this out. One way ends better for you than the other,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave it to you to decide.’

Aviary breathed in and opened her mouth, ready to yell something back, but Nasira planted a hand over her mouth. ‘They’re in the main concourse,’ she said quietly. ‘And they’re not talking to us.’

The voice continued. ‘We have your Peru shipment. You have five minutes to make your decision, Denton. Use your time wisely.’

Nasira noticed the group of masked Blue Berets standing in the main concourse, looking down from the Apple Store mezzanine. One stood in the center, talking on the loudspeaker. He must be their commander, she thought.

‘They don’t know anyone’s in here,’ Nasira said.

‘Are you sure?’ Aviary said.

‘No, I’m not sure,’ Nasira said.

‘Good, just making—oh.’

Sophia kept moving. If she stopped, she was dead. With Czarina pressed against her back and her bursts of fire making Sophia’s ears ring, Sophia knew she had the support she needed to carve through the distracted clusters of Denton’s Blue Berets. There weren’t many, but they were well trained.

The only reason Sophia and Czarina had made it this far without being torn to ribbons was because Czarina was supposed to be on their side and Sophia was dressed as a Blue Beret—she’d even scavenged a helmet from their first engagement in the dining concourse. Their most effective weapon right now was the element of surprise.

Slave mode scared her.

But right now it was all she had.

Ahead of them, gunfire rattled the concourse and reverberated toward them. It concealed the noise of their footsteps, and for that she was grateful. They moved at the quickest pace they could while glued to each other, which was almost running speed.

Two Blue Berets circled a pillar. They didn’t notice Sophia and Czarina as they crossed behind them. Sophia lashed out with her sword. The Berets turned to see her just as her blade ran across their throats. Two in one. They dropped to their knees, blood shooting from arteries. Czarina aimed her carbine at their chests but held her fire. They continued past, spurting blood showering their legs.

Sophia steered Czarina around the pillar. Ahead, a larger group of Berets appeared to be doing the same thing. They moved forward quickly and aggressively. She presumed they were giving Denton rear support and—given their direction of attention and their reports over the radio—were planning to push past him and take on an opposing force.

This group was four-strong. Since she’d seen them no one had turned to check their rear. An extraordinary oversight for a Special Forces fireteam. Then she realized why. She’d just killed their rear security.

The rearmost pair turned almost as one. They noticed Sophia and Czarina. The pair were probably expecting their own rear security and Sophia was dressed similarly. Except the obvious—blood-slicked sword and the whole being a woman thing.

Their hesitation gave her the fraction of a second she needed to line up the sights on her Glock and punch rounds into the only part of their bodies her rounds could reliably penetrate: their heads.

She emptied her magazine on the move, the slide on her Glock locking to the rear. She’d already released the empty mag and simultaneously picked another from her belt. Her Glock had gotten a workout moving through this concourse and she was already onto her second last magazine. As she released the slide, feeding a fresh round, she noticed her last magazine fall from a torn pouch and skitter across the floor.

She couldn’t go back for it now.

She continued firing, continued moving. Czarina aimed at each Blue Beret and punched a burst into each. The results were devastating. Only one of the highly trained Berets had time to line up his carbine, but he never had the chance to fire.

Sophia and Czarina kept moving, so far without injury. She was surprised she’d made it this far. They reached an octagonal-shaped booth, some sort of information center, with a screen on every face. It provided good concealment, although she wasn’t sure about actual cover. Carbine rounds would slip through without slowing.

Sophia checked her magazine. One goddamn round. And another in the chamber. Czarina was only carrying the carbine and had no pistol mags.

Edging around the south end of the booth, Sophia checked ahead. Gunfire still rang out, filling her already ringing ears. She could make out a circular café in the center, Caffe Pepe Rosso.

And seeking refuge behind it: Denton.

He was alone.

She had two rounds to finish him.

She indicated for Czarina to check the other side for Blue Berets. As she did so, she picked up on movement along the north wall. Czarina saw it too and moved, carbine aimed.

‘Sophia, do you read?’ Nasira’s voice crackled in her ear.

She didn’t have time to respond. She had to make her move now.

Denton would hear the rounds from the north wall while Sophia moved around the south. She crept low, pistol in one hand and sword in the other. She wanted to be sure those rounds would strike his head, and that meant getting a bit closer. He was talking into his microphone and she realized they’d already changed frequencies.

She lip-read him.

‘Stand by, stand by,’ he said.

Shit.

She quickened her pace.

On her left, Blue Berets engaged with Czarina. One of them found Sophia in his field of vision and took aim. She couldn’t rely on Czarina to save her, so she brought her pistol over her sword-wielding hand, using the wrist to steady her aim as she moved. She emptied the chamber. Then emptied the magazine. The Blue Beret stumbled, fell face-first.

She was halfway to Denton, out in the open. He didn’t even think to check directly behind him. He was too focused on—

An explosion vaporized the end of the concourse.

The concourse shook and a white cloud of debris rolled toward them. She covered her face and dropped to one knee. The cloud enveloped Denton. It was the last she saw of him as she was knocked from her feet.

Jay hung onto a seat. The Marauder’s rear doors swung open and he could see the second Marauder fighting its way through the rain and wind.

Jay didn’t spare much energy thinking about the second Marauder: he had other things to worry about. Like the operative in the cabin with him right now, aiming his fingerprint-coded pistol at Jay’s face.

Damien’s Marauder struck something. Jay hit the ceiling, desperately clung to the seat. The operative hit the ceiling with a crunch, landed beside Jay and almost rolled out of the Marauder.

Beside them, Jay caught a glimpse of the Cheetah. Damien had steered into it on purpose, ripping it apart. Pieces of Cheetah armor were strewn across the road.

The operative clung to seats on both sides, stopping himself from falling out. Jay was about to kick him out but the operative launched at him before he could.

Elbows struck Jay’s face, knees crunched into his ribs. He couldn’t let go of his own seat or else he’d fall out instead. He felt he was at a slight disadvantage, being severely wounded and having only his legs and one hand to fight back. Oh, and his head.

He head-butted the operative.

The operative’s skull struck the cabin floor. He lay there dazed, his grip around Jay relaxing. Jay looked up and spotted the operative’s pistol sliding down the aisle. Jay reached for it. The pistol slid right into the operative’s hand.

‘Oh fuck you,’ Jay said.

He could barely hear his own voice over the diesel engine and hurricane winds. He clamped his hand on the operative’s wrist, pushed it back at a painful angle. He was almost hugging the operative now. The operative switched hands, arm around Jay’s head, barrel pressed into the base of Jay’s skull. Jay wrapped his hand over the operative’s hand. The operative slipped his finger in the trigger guard and squeezed the trigger.

Jay let go.

He dropped out the back of the Marauder. He reached out, grabbing anything he could. The open doors. He grabbed the handlebar.

The operative’s body slumped out below him, half the mouth missing.

Jay tried to pull himself back toward the cabin. His ribs were on fire and the exit wound in his stomach felt like an erupting volcano. He was sure he’d started bleeding again. Using the two convenient steps at the bottom of the cabin entry, he found his footing and hauled himself back in. He turned to close the doors and noticed someone sitting in the second Marauder’s gunner platform.

Jay dived from the doors—

An explosion ripped through Grand Central terminal. The entire side of Lexington Avenue turned white hot. Jay hoped Nasira hadn’t been caught in the explosion.

The Marauder lurched from the impact and turned onto its side. Jay dropped through the cabin. He pawed a handrail on the ceiling, clung desperately. Behind him, the second Marauder—closer to the explosion—rolled in the air and smashed through an entire row of cars.

Fire and brick showered Lexington Avenue. On one side, Jay saw chunks of the US Post Office building missing. Damien’s Marauder continued on its side, grinding past a row of parked cars. The cars buckled against the Marauder’s weight and actually helped the Marauder right itself. They were back on four wheels.

Jay found himself dangling from the ceiling. The heavy cabin doors still flapped behind him. He dropped into a seat and held onto it as Damien hit the gas again. One hand ran over his bandaged exit wound. He held his fingers up and saw blood.

Sophia coughed dust from her lungs and peered through the haze. The café before her was covered in rubble. Denton was missing. She looked around and found only dead Blue Berets—and Czarina crouching nearby, watching and waiting.

‘Did you see Denton?’ Sophia said.

‘Negative,’ Czarina replied.

Sophia shoved a finger under her vest, searching for the button. It was difficult to get to so she shed the vest, putting her ruck back on over her T-shirt. She hit the button.

‘Nasira,’ she said. ‘I’m here.’

‘I know that,’ Nasira said into her ear. ‘I’m looking right at your ass.’

Sophia looked up and noticed a security camera still intact.

‘Where are you?’ Sophia said, dusting bits of tiles from her legs.

‘Operations control center,’ Nasira said. ‘We sealed in for now.’

‘Did you see where Denton went?’ Sophia said.

‘No,’ she said. ‘But the explosions wiped out forty masked Blue Berets and the commander to boot.’

Sophia felt her chest constrict.’

‘Was DC with them?’ she asked.

‘Didn’t see the motherfucker,’ Nasira said. ‘What happened down there?’

‘Long story,’ Sophia said. ‘Couldn’t stop Denton. He has two Phoenix viruses now.’

When she released her button, Nasira was hitting hers to get a word in.

‘Blue Berets!’ she shouted. ‘Standby standby! Dining concourse, moving west to you. Get the fuck out!’

Sophia tried to see through the haze but she only had visibility of twenty feet. She turned to Czarina.

‘Blue Berets are coming, move!’

Czarina was already running before Sophia could give her any further commands.

‘Get to the subway platforms!’ Aviary cut in. ‘There’s a train you can take in the subway.’

‘Uh, don’t you need keys for that?’ Sophia said.

She steered Czarina to the nearest stairs that led to the main concourse. It delivered them to the market inside Grand Central, which was strangely silent.

Czarina steered Sophia around the corner, through a passage. They passed the entrance to the Hyatt hotel. Masked Blue Berets materialized at the end of the passage. Czarina pulled Sophia down the escalators. She heard their boots echo as they gave chase.

She reached the bottom and Czarina jumped the turnstiles, carbine swiveling to check both sides. Sophia leaped after her, sword still in hand.

‘Train is new stock,’ Aviary said. ‘I can open the doors remotely and give you access.’

Sophia wished she had the time to find her missing magazine back in the dining concourse but her sword would have to do for now. She holstered her pistol in the Blue Beret belt she was wearing. She could hear boots scuffle over the turnstiles.

‘Run!’ she told Czarina.

Slave mode didn’t argue and Czarina pointed her carbine ahead as she legged it for the train. Sophia ran after her, sword in hand. She hit the stairs and took the steps two at a time. She landed on the platform.

‘Where is it?’ she yelled into her throat mike.

‘Staircase!’ Aviary said. ‘Down to the Seven train!’

Sophia saw the sign with the red
7
and the words,
To Times Sq & Flushing–Main St
. She ran for it. Czarina was looking back to check on her so she pointed to the stairs. The operative understood and disappeared down the stairs to the lower platform.

Sophia could hear the Blue Berets behind them. They were still moving down the first flight but they were almost on the platform.

She pretty much leaped down the stairs in one bound. She reached the lower platform. She saw the train on her left. It had to be the one Aviary was talking about. Czarina was already moving for it, but there was a slight problem.

The carriage doors were still shut.

Sophia hit the button under her T-shirt.

‘Open the doors!’ she yelled as she ran.

Czarina reached the rear carriage. The doors were shut so she kept moving. A grenade bounced down the stairs behind Sophia. She checked over her shoulder, recognized the shape. Smoke grenade.

Without any sort of infrared vision, Czarina wouldn’t be able to offer her any cover fire. She put some distance between the rapidly expanding cloud of smoke and herself. The Blue Berets would be moving through the cloud, off the narrow staircase where Czarina could’ve slowed them down. That was no longer an option.

‘Aviary!’ she yelled again.

Her fingers were clamped so hard over the button she thought she might break it.

‘Opening!’ Aviary’s voice filled her ear.

‘I don’t see them open—’

Shots cracked down the platform. She heard a chink sound from a passing window and saw a hole blast through the glass. She sprinted down the platform, after Czarina.

Czarina turned, aimed her carbine. Sophia almost hit the ground when she realized the carbine was pointed at her. Czarina seemed confused. She shifted her aim again, past Sophia, toward the staircase behind her.

The doors jerked open and Czarina darted inside. Sophia leaped into the carriage beside her and moved for the door at the end. Above her, dotted words rolled across an LCD announcement display.

(7) 11:38 PM

She burst through into the next carriage and kept moving.

‘Aviary!’ she said. ‘Close the doors!’

‘On it!’ Aviary shouted back.

She ran underneath a display and checked the next stop.

(7) TO TIMES SQ-42 ST

Blue Berets reached the platform and opened fire. She dropped to the ground and wriggled on her knees and elbows, her empty Glock in one hand and sword in the other. She heard movement in the carriage behind her.

Shit.

If she tried to make it for the next carriage they’d shoot her in the back. She got to her feet and bolted from the carriage to the platform. There were no Blue Berets on the platform. They were all inside—in the carriage just behind her. She ducked and moved under the windows of their carriage. She could hear them move through to the next carriage.

A cheerful male voice said, ‘Stand clear of the closing doors please!’

Her heart raced. She sprinted for the open door, legs working on adrenalin, and dived into the rear carriage just as the doors closed. She couldn’t really conceal herself behind anything: there was no cover inside the train. So she remained next to the doors as they shut behind her. She peered through the metal rails. At the other end, she could see the Blue Berets had moved into the next carriage.

No one checked their rear.

They were getting sloppy, she thought. Or over-confident.

‘Aviary,’ she said in a low voice. ‘Get the train moving.’

‘Uh,’ Aviary said. ‘I can’t do that.’

‘You said it was a new train!’

‘Yeah, not that new,’ Aviary said. ‘I can open doors. And close them. And I can start the engine. That’s it.’

‘Great.’

Sophia moved quickly to the doors and carefully opened them, then opened the next set of doors into the connecting carriage. The masked Blue Berets thought they were closing on Sophia but they would soon close on Czarina. She couldn’t handle them all by herself, especially if they had the element of surprise.

She looked down at her sword. If she could somehow get close enough.

Then the train started moving. She watched the Blue Berets hustle just ahead of her. The noise of the train moving along the track was giving her enough cover. That was good. But who was operating the train—Czarina?

The Blue Berets were ahead of her. If just one of them turned around she’d be done for. She crept around a pole and continued through the carriage, sword in both hands now. She could feel her pulse in both ears.

She made it five feet from the masked Blue Berets before the rear security swiveled, his carbine pointed at her.

She couldn’t knock the barrel off sight because another pole was in the way. Instead she drew her empty Glock and slung it into his masked face. It bounced off the mask, distracting him enough so she could move in the other direction. The other Berets hadn’t noticed yet, but as soon as that Glock hit—

The Beret tracked her with his carbine but the barrel struck the pole. She kicked him behind the knee and he half-dropped. She grasped his chin with her free hand and threw him onto his back. At the same time, she slashed outward to the second masked Beret, who brought his carbine around to see what the noise was.

Her tachi blade struck the carbine, which as it turned out made a reasonable shield. The Beret swung his carbine, pinning her sword to the floor. She slammed her palm down on top of the barrel with such force that it tore from his grasp and tipped over the sword. The carbine clattered along the plastic blue carriage seats.

Sophia brought her sword up under the Beret’s mask, into his neck. She kept her eyes on the other pair of Berets, one of her arms up to shield blood from her eyes. She launched forward. The third Beret reacted quickly, used his carbine to deflect her while the fourth Beret took aim.

Sophia couldn’t stop moving; she avoided a burst of rounds by running along the seating. She slashed backhanded, across the third Beret’s mask. He moved from its path and the strike was glancing—enough to shatter the rigid mask.

She landed behind the pair of them. They both tried to aim. She thrust the tip of her blade through the center of the third Beret, whose mask was now in two pieces. Her blade struck the ceramic plate across his chest.

The fourth Beret shifted his aim, but she was too close. She stepped forward and used her forearm to knock the barrel upward. The rounds punched through the roof.

Her sword was still jammed in the ceramic plate so she kicked the fourth in the kneecap before he could recover, sending him across the slippery seating, then pried her blade free, knocking the third onto the plastic seats as well.

The first Beret was still alive and reaching for his carbine. She weaved around the pole and came up behind him, ran the blade across the back of his neck. She caught one artery.

The third and fourth Beret watched as the first Beret clutched his neck, trying to stem the flow. He was still standing. Sophia pushed him forward, closing the gap between her and the remaining two, then moved around him—across the plastic seating. She weaved under a metal bar and her blade found the neck of the third Beret. He clutched his neck and fell.

The fourth Beret tried to gain some distance between them, meeting her strikes with his carbine. He drew his pistol with his support hand but Sophia knocked it away with her blade. She switched direction, catching him by surprise. Her sword found his neck.

She looked down to find her finally dry T-shirt, now spray-painted red.

Above her, the information display blinked.

(7) THE NEXT STOP IS

(7) BRYANT PK-42 ST

She checked the carriage. It was just the four of them. She thought about taking their radios but knew that in the tunnels she wouldn’t get much outside the train anyway.

She took her Glock from the ground and found two magazines from one Beret that fit hers. The other three were running their Glocks with .45 ACP rounds, not nine-millimeter. They were of course fingerprint-coded so she couldn’t even take their pistols. She settled for the two magazines she could use, loading one and moving into the third carriage—

A recorded female voice calmly said, ‘
This is Fifty-First Street
.’

The train didn’t slow.

Sophia continued through the carriages to the front. She found Czarina at the helm, inside the train’s driver’s cabin, carbine resting at her feet.

There was a screen in front of Czarina and an array of green and red buttons, two large yellow disc-shaped knobs. Through the windows above, Sophia could see the tunnel rush past in a blur, smeared with an occasional green or red tunnel light.

Czarina was guiding a lever that kept the train moving. Sophia stepped into the cabin and Czarina’s hand moved for the carbine, lingered. She sat in apparent suspended animation for a moment before she withdrew her hand.

Slave mode seemed to be wearing off.

Sophia didn’t know what to do.

‘Stop the train,’ she said.

Czarina released the lever and the train began to slow down by itself.

Sophia wanted to get in touch with Aviary and Nasira, but she knew her iPhone couldn’t hijack anything down here.

Sophia picked up the carbine. ‘Are you armed?’

‘No,’ Czarina said.

‘Come with me,’ Sophia said, leading her back into the first carriage.

She placed the carbine on the plastic seating, moved twenty feet away and aimed her Glock at Czarina. She applied pressure to the trigger. Just enough.

‘You’re too dangerous,’ Sophia said.

‘Your command?’ Czarina said.

‘No command,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

Czarina watched her, but said nothing.

Sophia lowered her Glock. She hit a nearby pole with her sword and yelled at it. In the tunnel, no one would hear her. Only Czarina.

Czarina stared back at her, unblinking.

Sophia shook her head. ‘I’m going to regret this.’ She put her sword aside and said, ‘Unload parapsyche Lycaon.’

Czarina continued to stare at her. Her shoulder twitched. Then her eyes narrowed a fraction. It was enough for Sophia to notice. She felt the first wave of hostility come off Czarina like a fragrance.

‘What happened?’ Czarina said, bitterness in her words. ‘Whatever you’re trying to do, it won’t work.’

‘Story of my life,’ Sophia said. ‘Execute parapsyche Oranos.’

Something inside Czarina pulled her upright. She no longer seemed concerned by Sophia’s presence.

‘Oranos loaded,’ Czarina said. ‘Request command.’

This better still be the same, she thought. She held her pistol grip a little tighter, preparing for the worst.

‘Autumn frosts have slain July,’ Sophia said.

Czarina didn’t respond.

Sophia raised her Glock and lined the sights. ‘Come on.’

Czarina’s fingers wavered. Then her left arm jerked suddenly, as though someone had broken it. She twisted into a crouch and started moaning. Sophia didn’t know what to do. There was nothing she could do.

Czarina gasped, fingers scratching the carriage floor.