Ouroboros 2: Before (23 page)

The high-powered plasma beam lanced out from her gun and struck the guy in the chest, making him crumple immediately.

Everyone flinched away.

The rest of Varo's men now raised their guns, but Varo snapped at them at once not to shoot.

‘
He's not dead,’ she screamed, ‘just out cold. So I’m going to ask again, how do I get to the facility?’

Varo slowly let his hands drop.

‘
What are you doing?’ Nida gestured the gun towards him.

‘
You can't get out of these tunnels without us. You can't get out of this city without us,’ Varo said plainly.

Her back flushed with heat. ‘Don't tell me what I can do. I will find a way. Now tell me how to get to Carson,’ she sobbed.

She didn't want to; the tears simply flowed of their own accord.

‘
. . . Touched, I know this is hard for you. To witness the destruction of your world . . . it is always hard.’

Your world.

He'd said your world.

A slip of the tongue?

‘
What do you mean?’ She shuddered back, yet still held hold of the gun.

‘
What did you see? Which vision? Which world was destroyed, your own, or ours?’

Nida almost dropped the gun. ‘
What?
’

‘
I know you are not Vexian,’ Varo said simply.

. . . .

She . . . no.
How?

‘
It is alright. You are touched. We know of the touched. We have done so for millennia.’

‘
What does that mean? What . . . what's going on?’ She screamed, her voice pitching up and down with emotion and desperation.

‘
You must trust we know what to do,’ Varo began.

‘
I trust nothing,’ Nida said truthfully.

Then she acted on instinct.

She shot Varo and his men.

They crumpled.

She walked up to them, hesitantly checking they were still alive.

When she confirmed they were, she broke down.

She cried.

Yet as she did, she kept moving.

She would make it out of these tunnels and she would get to Carson.

As she ran, she had to fight hard to keep going.

For with every step, the entity told her to turn around.

She did not.

She ran forward.

She would find Carson.

Before it was too late.

Carson Blake

Everything had happened fast. Blindingly, impossibly fast.

Once they had reached the building, Cara had waited until an explosion had lanced through the night.

Carson immediately knew it came from the bomb she'd planted.

Then, without pause, Cara had led them both onto the roof of the building they were now on, and she’d produced a grappling gun from the holster on her back.

Lining up a shot in the dark and confusion, she aimed at the roof of the Central Security Facility, shooting the hook, and letting her shoulder absorb the massive recoil of the gun as it fired a heavy metal hook and rope over a distance of approximately 100 meters.

Before Carson could truly register what was happening, Cara anchored the opposite side of the rope into the building they were on, then commanded him with a snapped, ‘now,’ to grab hold of the rope.

She jumped at it, holding onto it with nothing but her armored hands, and used the height of the building they were on compared to the central facility, to sail down the rope like a flying fox.

Carson didn't wait.

He jumped.

The air whistled past him, growing faster and faster as his body sailed down the rope towards the facility.

When he reached it, he brought his legs up at the last moment, let go of the rope, sprung out with his feet, struck a wall, and flipped backwards. Landing neatly with one hand pressed into the ground for support, he snapped to his feet just as Cara did the same beside him.

She was fast.

So blindingly fast.

She also wasn't sticking to the plan.

Maybe she'd seen an opportunity and taken it, or maybe the heat of battle was changing her mind about the best route in.

Carson didn't know.

Soon he'd learn the truth though.

There was general chaos around the building as the explosion across the road grabbed the collective attention of the guards and soldiers.

Screams and shouts broke through the cold night air.

Cara didn't stop though. She hooked her arm forward in a powerful move, pointing across the roof as she did.

She sure was keeping him on his toes.

No time to pause.

No time to think.

Yet as she streamed forward, Carson still had the presence of mind to order his on-board computer to start scanning for any electronic records. He instructed it to glean everything it could. It had an enormous storage capacity, and could happily suck up all the data of this entire government for the next millennia without taxing its memory banks.

Cara launched herself off a section of roof, flipping in the air and landing right behind a soldier.

In the heat of the moment, Carson hadn't been able to pick up the guy's presence.

But now it didn't matter.

Cara landed on top of the guy, slamming him into the ground as she pushed her armored elbow into the back of his head.

Quick.

Efficient.

Brutal.

Carson still didn't have time to think as she ran forward again, her footfall impossibly silent and her body held low.

Now his computer was occupied with the task of gleaning data, he had slightly less power set to the task of scanning his immediate surroundings.

Still, he now conscientiously checked to see how many enemies were on his tail.

The answer was, not many.

He could count only ten men on this roof.

. . . . 

The Central Security Facility was meant to be the most protected building in this city, yet they only had ten guys on the roof?

Granted, Cara's explosion across the street would have been distracting, but to a people as militarized as these, surely they knew you didn't let guards leave key defensive positions unless it was totally and completely necessary.

 . . . . 

Something wasn’t right.

Although that thought impressed itself upon his mind, Carson simply didn't have the time to think it through.

A soldier came careening around the side of a raised section of roof, a weapon in his hand.

Though Carson could have easily blasted away with his Goddess’ tear, he didn't. Instead, he dropped to his knees, rolled, and jumped up sharply, lancing out with his fist as he did.

He caught the guy in the side of the hip, pushing him sideways with a snap.

Carson didn't stop. He ensured the guy was down by following with another calculated punch. He used his on-board computer to ensure his blow was not deadly, and rather precisely timed and placed to render the man unconscious without stealing his life.

When Carson looked up, it was to the sight of Cara taking on two soldiers at once.

She moved like the wind. Each one of her blows was solid, connected, and clearly did a heck of a lot of damage as she felled the two guys with deadly speed. 

Everything was happening too quickly.

He thought that again just as another soldier rounded the same raised section of roof. This guy had a gun in this hand, and rather than raising it at Carson, aimed at Cara.

This time Carson didn't hesitate; he brought up his wrist device and blasted forward.

. . . . 

Except the energy didn't come out.

Nothing happened.

Nothing.

The man shot Cara.

He held some kind of rudimentary automatic weapon that still used bullets.

Streams of them split the air with whip-like cracks.

No.

God no.

Carson sprung forward, knocking the guy out with a clean blow that saw the gun he held go scooting across the rooftop.

Carson spun on his foot.

He reached Cara's crumpled body.

He skidded to his knees.

He expected to see the worst.

He knew how weak her armor was. He knew it couldn't have protected her from all of those bullets.

She would be dead.

His armor calculated that eventuality, yet as he neared, as he brought up a trembling hand to touch her shoulder, he realized she wasn't.

She was alive.

Christ, she was alive.

Though her armor was dented here and there, and green blood soaked out of a wound on her leg, she was fine.

She hesitated for a moment. Checking her injury, she soon pushed to her feet.

‘
You're injured,’ he snapped at her. ‘We have to abort.’

‘
No,’ she spat. ‘We've come this far. We have to keep going.’

He was so shocked she was still alive. Everything his armor had calculated about that gun told him she should be dead.

But she was alive.

‘
Cara, we have to leave,’ he begged, readying himself as he heard more footfall.

‘
This way,’ she pointed sharply towards a lower section of the roof.

He knew the plan.

This wasn't it.

In fact, Cara had been deviating from the plan almost from the get go.

. . . .

She should also be dead.

She ran off towards the lower section of roof. Though her footfall was measured, there was only the slightest of limps affecting her gait. 

Carson turned. He followed, yet as he did, he reached down and he grabbed the gun that had shot her.

Now it was in his hands, it was far easier for his on-board computer to scan it.

‘
Carson,’ Cara called, ‘come on.’

He stopped.

This was a trap.

. . . . 

He'd just walked into a trap.

The gun he held, the gun that had shot Cara, was not filled with ordinary bullets.

He let the gun clatter from his fingers.

He spun on his foot.

For the first time he truly drew on his training.

He forgot about Cara and all her distractions.

He forgot about the resistance and its cause.

He forgot about this planet and its history.

He treated the world around him as unknown, as dangerous, and as entirely alien.

He might have crafted himself a fancy disguise to fit in, and the entity may have conveniently given Carson and Nida the ability to speak the local language. But none of that changed the fact this planet was an alien world with an alien culture, alien customs, and an alien history.

Carson caught up to the situation, but it was too late.

He had the time to think of one thing.

It was not how Cara had betrayed him. It was not about how foolish he'd been for walking into a trap.

It was that he'd left Nida alone.

Cadet Nida Harper

As she ran through the tunnels, she had to think, and she had to do it quickly.

She reasoned Varo and his men would remain unconscious for 3-4 hours, which was hopefully all she would need.

Before leaving them, she'd checked them over for weapons and communication devices.

She'd obliterated the weapons with several pulses from her gun.

She'd been unable to find anything that resembled a communication device. Not that she could confirm that fact unfortunately—without a scanner, she was just guessing.

‘
Come on,’ she whispered to herself as she ran forward.

She was desperate.

No, she'd crossed into a realm that went beyond that simple emotion. Her whole body buzzed with the need to get to Carson.

If she didn't . . . if she got their too late . . . .

She closed her eyes, forcing back the tears. ‘Come on,’ she said louder, enjoying the edge to her voice as it ricocheted around the room. ‘
Come on
.’

It took her some time to navigate through the tunnels. It appeared Varo had been right—she really did need him and his team to get out of here.

There was one fact, however, Varo had not considered.

Her gun.

When all else failed, Nida picked a likely wall and shot it.

If you were stuck in a maze, the polite thing to do was to figure your way out. The impolite but always effective strategy, however, was to destroy whatever obstacle lay in your path.

So that's what Nida did.

She shot wall after wall, setting the plasma gun to such a high level that it burnt through the concrete rather than blasting through it and causing rubble and dust to rain down on her.

Her heart didn't just beat in her chest anymore; it beat throughout her whole body. She could feel it bouncing and rattling her bones. And every breath was so sharp and shallow, her throat wheezed with the effort.

She didn't give up though.

She kept powering forward.

She might be the worst recruit in 1000 years, but considering the Galactic Coalition Academy would not be formed for several millennia, that fact no longer meant anything.

She wasn't at home anymore. She was on Remus 12 in some unknown past, and she was on her own.

That one fact gave her more strength than any comforting words could.

Without Carson to hide behind, she had to save herself.

Knowing that gave her powerful resolve, and for the first time, that resolve made her forget something.

The entity.

The shadow within.

The effects. The power. The visions. The way it all controlled her.

Those facts were far, far from her mind as she strode forward, shooting whatever wall that got in her way.

When she made it to the streets above, she knew she wouldn't be able to continue with the same strategy. That would be a recipe for getting shot.

But there was something that she could do; introduce chaos to their order.

If Cara really had kidnapped Carson and was leading him into a trap, the last thing that alien woman would expect would be for an angry and wild Nida to come kicking and screaming into the mix, firing off plasma bursts in every direction.

Okay . . . so it wasn't much of a plan, and Nida knew instinctively she would have to come up with something better when she actually reached the facility, but for now she just had to make it outside.

In similar fashion, it didn't take her long to find herself standing in a larger room that was far cleaner and better kept than the tunnels she'd been traversing.

It seemed to be some kind of station—there were long objects that looked like rudimentary trains.

Thankfully it was also deserted.

Not hesitating, Nida ran forward. Glancing up, she saw there were windows on the walls.

She could see the night sky outside.

Her heart leapt.

She'd done it. She'd made her way outside.

She ran faster now.

Her feet slammed against the ground, sending out powerful echoes; a drum beat to keep her pounding forward.

She directed herself at the far wall.

She'd been sprinting on and off for the past half hour, which, if she'd paused to think about it, was incredible.

She'd never been the fittest of recruits. She tried hard, but she wasn't one for stamina and exercise.

Now none of that mattered, because she had one burning need.

To get to Carson before it was too late.

And that need washed away any feeling of fatigue or ache.

She ran faster now.

Then, all of a sudden, she skidded to a stop, her move so sudden she actually tumbled over.

Picking herself up, her skirts a mess around her, she staggered forward.

There was a large pole in the middle of the room with a map on it.

The map appeared to show the city.

It also pointed out the large landmarks, her current location, and, in shining red letters, the military zone.

Right in the middle of the military zone was a large facility.

The Central Security Facility, to be exact.

. . . . 

Nida couldn't believe her luck.

If she'd shot a different set of walls, she wouldn't have come out here, and she wouldn't have seen this map.

At first she tried to remember the streets and alleys, charting a path from where she was to where she needed to be.

Then she stopped.

She stood back, flicked the gun to its weakest setting, and shot the casing that housed the map.

The glass melted away.

Slamming the butt of her gun into whatever metal and glass remained, and being careful to wait for the heat of her blast to disburse, soon Nida pried the map from its casing.

It was a little singed and worse for wear, but it was still readable.

She ran forward again, rolling the map up and tucking it down the front of her top.

Right, she could do this.

She would have to.

She had no idea how secure the central facility would be, but she could bet there'd be more than a fence and a trite sign warning people to keep out.

So it was time to get creative, as Sharpe might say.

Reaching the far wall, Nida hesitated, winced, shot it, and finally walked out into the night.

She'd made it into the city.

It was now time to make it to Carson before it was too late.