Connor Rix Chronicles 1: Rules of Force (16 page)

"Come,"
he said, ripping aside the fencing, creating a gaping hole for them to pass.
"Let us find these people and be done with this." In a rare act of
caution, he turned to them before he passed through the opening. "Expect
anything," he said.

As they moved
forward he ordered Mr. Green ahead to circle around to the back of the facility
by the river. After a couple minutes he signaled half of the remaining men to
search the smaller, far buildings. The rest he told to follow him as they
fanned out and sprinted around the piles of rubble, trees and still-intact
structures toward the main brewhouse building.

The double doors
were slightly open. Vinicius slipped through and slid along the wall to his
left. It was dark, of course, but he nearly snorted with contempt.

Does the man
think me a child? Does he really believe that I would not have the best optical
implants in the world? Of course I can see in the darkness.

He adjusted the
brightness level until he could see the room as if it were in daylight. The
walls were aged brick. Massive columns lined in a row soared between the floor
and the ceiling. He could see giant storage tanks lined against the far wall.
The room was cluttered with all manner of objects — massive, heavy pumps,
dusty brew kettles and other thick iron and steel machinery had been moved to
the
floor, probably as part of a
barricade during the Americans' little civil war, he guessed.

He navigated his
way through the machinery, cautiously at first, then with an easier, casual
air. He was becoming firm in his belief that this Travis Burnet character was
mostly bluster. Obviously he wanted Vinicius and his men at this location for a
reason, but he was beginning to think it was more as a diversion than a trap.
Either way, it would all be over soon.

From one of the
floors above him, he heard movement — a footstep causing an old wooden
floorboard to creak.

He looked for a
way up and spied at the back of the room a yellow, metal spiral staircase that
rose from the floor to a small opening in the ceiling above. It appeared to be
the only way up to the next floor. Access to the other stairwells was blocked,
and the elevators were clearly long-since dead. Vinicius looked up and smiled.
Very well. He would play along. But he would not bother with climbing. He
crouched and leaped to the top of the ladder, an explosion of pure animal
movement.

He was feeling
better already.

"Come out
little Texan! I'm here to discuss the terms of my surrender!" He laughed
in the darkness.

****

KC lay stretched
out atop the enormous pipes that snaked throughout the building, just below the
ceiling on the first floor. She had slowed her breathing down to the bare
minimum, so that no motion or sound would betray her. The hidden location and
the stealth fabrics she was wearing should keep her from being spotted, but she
had no idea if any of these men had auditory implants that could pick up faint
noises. She hoped not.

She could hear
the soft footfalls of the men below, but even more so, her olfactory sensor dot
allowed her to smell them, each one as they passed below.

Lord, could she
smell them.

Fortunately,
that was one sensor that could be easily deactivated.

Out of the
corner of her eye she saw Vinicius leap to the top of the spiral staircase, a
move that startled her. She should not have been surprised, but it was a
prodigious show of strength, and she nearly jerked her head in reaction as he
shot up into the air.

She did not have
any optical implants, but the flush Open Sky goggles allowed her to see well
enough in the dark. She rolled her head slightly to give her a view of the man.

He hung on the
ladder by one arm, looking up and yelling through the opening to the floor
above, taunting Rix. She let out a soft breath.

I guess now
is a good time.

She fingered the
special tool she had saved from her Air Force MI team days, a tool she was
definitely not supposed to have. She slid up the sheath of the narrow cylinder
and closer her eyes. She gently pressed the switch.

Even with her
eyes closed she saw a slight flash as the lenses of her goggles flared and shut
down. Below her she heard swearing and stumbling, and then a loud crash as the
great bulky frame of Vinicius Cunha fell to the ground. He roared in anger.

She smiled in
the darkness. She was glad the little device still worked. It sent out a small
EMP pulse to disable electronics within a confined area, and had been
specifically tuned to cripple advanced optical displays.

We're going
to do this old style, gents. No cheating the night. Well, for you, anyway.

She reached down
into the lined, protective sack that held her spare goggles, slipped them on
and powered them up.

****

Big Fella
Jackson was sitting on one of the large landscaping stones between the
brewhouse and the river. He was studying his E-Thing, watching the view from
above as the lone man circled around the perimeter to the back. He looked like
one of the bigger men. The direct feed from the Open Sky personal protection
drone floating overhead allowed him to zoom in and out, following the man's
progress, examining his features.

He should be
coming around the corner about… now.

As the man
slipped into the open and spotted Big Fella sitting on his rock, he halted,
tense. When Big Fella did not immediately move, the man circled slowly, sizing
up his potential opponent.

Seeing the man
at ground level, Big Fella recognized him as the "green" man. He'd
watched the security video of the assault on the Open Sky lab, and had seen the
cruelty in the man's eyes as he had waded into the researchers, laughing as he
crippled those people with the ferocity of his blows. Big Fella was seeing some
of that cruelty etched on the man's face now, although mixed with something
else. Apprehension, perhaps? Big Fella liked that idea.

The man walked
toward Big Fella and then took a short step and leaped into the air, executing
an acrobatic, twisting flip overhead. He landed behind him, slightly crouched,
poised to strike.

Big Fella had
only casually followed the flip, barely moving his head as the man soared above
him. He shifted slightly on the giant cube of limestone, turning himself
part-way to face the man. He was ready when the man threw a straight jab at
him, and reached out with his right arm and grasped the man's fist when it was
a mere six inches from his own face. The man tried to pull away but Big Fella
tightened his grip, the power of his exoskeleton coursing down his arm,
concentrating in his bionic hand. He pulled the man down to his knees. His eyes
widened in shock.

"Don't know
how they do it in South America, but in Texas we normally shake hands when we
first meet someone," Big Fella said. "Glad to know ya."

The man cried
out as the bones in his hand fractured. Desperation in his eyes, he dropped
onto his back and delivered a sweeping kick to Big Fella's jaw. He lost his
grip on the man and slid off the rock.

Recovering, Big
Fella stood up for the first time. The man was hunched over, clutching his
injured hand, and took a step backward as Big Fella rose to his full height. He
spat out a curse in Portuguese, and fumbled in his coat with his left hand. He
pulled out one of the flechette pistols but held it awkwardly, a right-handed
man suddenly forced to use his left.

Big Fella
stepped forward and swatted the weapon away just as the man was pulling the
trigger. With a soft
chuff
a cloud of
glittering blades shot up into the sky.

Big Fella
reached to grab the man, but was too slow. The exoskeleton gave him tremendous
strength, but something had been lost in the speed department. The connections
from his brain to his musculoskeletal system via motoneurons had to be read and
interpreted by his exoskeleton, a process that resulted in a split second
slower reaction time than he'd had before his war injuries. He knew to
anticipate this, but against a faster opponent he could not reliably
compensate.

Vinicius'
"green" enforcer, however, was an explosive ball of fast reflexes,
especially for a muscular, six-foot-four man. He leaped onto one of the nearby
landscaping boulders and lunged at Big Fella, leading with a left cross that
connected with the side of Big Fella's head, sending him stumbling backward.

The man moved in
close and rained a series of blows against Big Fella's torso, the punches and
kicks landing so fast he could barely see them. As he moved to a defensive
posture to block, he realized the man's reflexes were amplified far beyond
normal. And his broken left hand didn't seem to be bothering him now, indicating
some sort of subcutaneous pain-blocking agents.

One more
modified lunatic… What kind of bug juice is running through your veins?

Big Fella
staggered backward, feigning injury, allowing the other man to move in close.
He absorbed some rattling blows against his ribcage.

"Hey, big
man, I'm going to have you crying like a little girl by the time we're
done," the other man said through gritted teeth.

He aimed a blow
up at the taller man's head, but Big Fella anticipated it. He grabbed the man's
arm and pinned it to his side and then wrapped him up with his other arm. Big
Fella lifted the man an inch off the ground.

"Now this
will be something new for you," he said. "Ever been given a bear hug
by a man with an exoskeleton?" He steadily squeezed tighter, and saw panic
flood into the man's eyes. He tried to thrash his way free, but Big Fella was
planted firmly and held him secure. He could hear the small servos in his
exoskeleton humming, and could feel the pressure growing in his limbs.

"Here's a
trick you'll really like," Big Fella said. He concentrated on his bionic
hand — and slowly a small compartment on his knuckle slid opened. It was
not as easy as commanding the fingers or wrist to move, although what was
inside was tied into his motoneuron network like an extra digit. He focused on
extending the slender tendril out from its compartment. His other fingers
twitched as he struggled with the mental commands to his artificial body part.
Gradually, the tendril snaked out, and the sharp tip plunged into his opponent's
back. Localized current flowed through the man, and he let out a sharp scream.
The tiny fuel cell embedded in Big Fella's back that powered the exoskeleton
provided the power for the charge. The feedback Big Fella was receiving hurt
like hell, but he wasn't receiving a fraction of what the man he held in his
grip felt.

After several
seconds the man's eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped in Big Fella's
arms. He dropped him on the ground.

"Huh. That
thing works after all. I guess I owe the moles in the lab a steak dinner,"
he muttered to himself as he secured the man's hands behind him, and tied his
feet with the special bands they had brought with them, supplies from Rix's
inventory developed specially for restraining MIs. He gagged the man, then tied
him to one of the trees near the river.

After he was
finished he awoke his E-thing in order to check the view from the drone. There
was a group of men searching around the building that had once served as a
garage for the delivery trucks. He started up the hill and headed in that
direction.

****

KC could hear
the men below her stumbling around the enormous room. Not all the men had
optical implants or goggle arrays, so one of the men had brought a flashlight.
He had rushed over to where Vinicius had fallen to check on the boss's
condition, and Vinicius had snatched the flashlight from his hand. He yelled at
the others to make sure no one escaped, and if they found anyone to let him
know immediately, for there would be much pain to dispense and so forth and so
on. KC thought he sounded rattled, although half his speech was in Portuguese,
so she couldn't follow it all clearly. Cunha started up the spiral staircase
again, although this time without the dramatic leaping. One of his men followed
him. Another left through an exit against the back wall of the first floor.

From her hiding
spot on top of the pipes, she silently rolled over and scanned the floor below.
Her goggles gave her a clear view, and she saw that only one man was left in
the room.

She wasted no
time. She reached for the net gun, one of the type used by Open Sky's security
teams. She aimed at the man, waited for him to wander to an open area, and
pulled the trigger. With a soft bang the net projectile flew toward the man,
hitting him in the head and then enveloping him with the spinning cables. He
collapsed without a word, but KC needed to be sure. She grabbed the synth rope
that she had tied to the pipe bracketry earlier and dropped it over the side.
She slid down quickly, and gagged and secured the man with the MI restraining
materials she had hidden in one of the old cabinets.

She looked down
at him.

Just a kid,
this one, but such a big and lumpy one. Probably a tanker's worth of steroids
flowing through those veins.

Even with her
own enhanced strength, she struggled to drag the man to the old brewing kettle
and stuff him inside, where he wouldn't cause any trouble.

She looked
around to see if the noise she had made had attracted any attention. The
silence closed in on all side. She wondered how Rix and Big Fella were doing.

****

Big Fella
Jackson had not yet seen one of the new generation of "personal protection
drones" before the planning of this operation, but he was glad he had one
on his side tonight. It resembled an old Predator drone used on the
battlefield, but scaled for civilian use as a kind of aerial bodyguard. The
part he liked best about it was the customizable weapons package.