Sidespace (36 page)

“It looks as though the diversion we were promised is in full swing. We stay sharp and it will act to our benefit, but get sloppy and we’ll end up caught in the crossfire. With any luck, defensive measures will be concentrated on the opposite wing of the complex but don’t take any chances. And since the creators of the diversion are also wanted on suspicion of terrorist activity, our default position is any and all persons encountered while inside, with the sole exception of Dr. Abigail Canivon, are considered hostiles.” This was a Level IV Priority mission, which meant lethal force was authorized carte blanche.

The floor settled beneath them, signaling their arrival. “Report.”

“Weapons Green.”

“Systems Green.”

“Tech Green.”

He opened the airlock. “Move out.”

They departed the ship in four rows of three, then spread into a staggered formation. The dark side street was lit to artificial daylight via the near infrared night vision mode in his ocular implant. It never failed to leave him feeling exposed, but he ignored the sensation to motion the two Marines handling recon ahead and move to the wall.

Their way in was an employee entrance at the rear corner. The door’s security was expected to be high, but not so much so their brute-force hacking override ware couldn’t break it—another of many ancillary proceeds from Noetica. Seven months was a lot of cycles for human-enhanced Artificials to spend thinking up new technological wonders.

The muffled echo of another flashbang in the distance sounded as they skirted the exterior wall. By the time they reached the door the ware had done its job, and they wasted no time in breaching the entrance.

The last man in closed it behind him, and the street outside returned to normal, all evidence of their infiltration erased. He confirmed their ship departed as Captain Paredes, their tech specialist, broke the encryption on two additional security doors. Then they were inside the compound.

Sirens blared on multiple bandwidths, and warning lights added to the cacophony of generalized fanfare indicating the facility was under attack. Not under attack by them, though it was that as well, but rather by a group of OTS terrorists sent here for the same reason as them: to prevent Olivia Montegreu from becoming a Prevo.

OTS would not succeed; even at their strongest they couldn’t match the extent and sophistication of Zelones’ security. The fact they were trying anyway was only evidence of the strength of their beliefs—or the depth of their delusions.

Malcolm nodded at Grenier, and the Major launched a device onto the ceiling—the first of twenty remote detonation micro-bombs they intended to place during their traversal of the facility. His plan was to successfully secure Dr. Canivon and see her and his team safely back to the ship, then bring the building down on top of the Zelones Artificial and Olivia Montegreu, regardless of whether they were now one and the same.

If he succeeded in pulling that off, it would be a good day indeed.

The lab where intel suggested the Artificial was housed and the adjacent clinic where any medical procedure was likely to be performed were three levels below ground and toward the center of the structure. They met their first resistance twenty meters from the lift in the form of automated ceiling turrets.

He motioned the others back and activated his AAF gun. It extended around the corner, creating a dead energy zone around itself, then shot precision EMPs into the two turrets in rapid succession. He cleared the corner, only to drop to a knee and fire as two men charged the hallway from the other end. His shot kneecapped the one on the left as a shot from behind him eliminated the one on the right.

Without requesting permission, Grenier delivered a follow-up shot to the head of the injured man. Malcolm didn’t admonish him; enemies who were left alive reported positions and strength.

When they reached the lift one of his people sent a micro-bomb skidding into the next hallway. Halfway down it stopped and attached itself to the wall.

In any other type of mission, they never would’ve taken the lift as a group. But this was rapid infiltration rescue, and spreading out did them no good.

Nevertheless, it wasn’t a positive sign when the lift lurched to a stop a floor and a half from their destination. Paredes’ eyes went blank for three seconds. “It’s a general lock-down, not directed at us.”

Malcolm placed a three-centimeter long bar on the floor and stepped to the edge of the lift. The others followed his lead and retreated to the edges, and the bar blew a hole in the floor.

“Let’s get moving.”

One by one they rappelled down the shaft and swung through the lift opening to their intended level.

Automated turrets decorated every corner of this floor, and taking them out slowed them enough to make Malcolm uncomfortable. Time was not their friend.

“Colonel, I’ve been able to create a tunnel through the interference field blocking communications and trackers.”

“Excellent.” This, on the other hand, was good news. A red dot materialized on his map, marking the location of Dr. Canivon sixty-two meters to their northeast. He quickly sent her a pulse.

Dr. Canivon, Alliance MSO squad en route to you. Do not move from your current location as the passages are not safe. Confirm receipt of this message.

They continued forward as he waited.

Confirmed. There are three military-grade mechs guarding the lab.

Understood. Sit tight.

“Expect heavy mech resistance outside the lab.” Captains Devore and Grenier responded by unlatching the mini-SALs from their backs.

First, however, they had to deal with the half dozen guards stationed at the outer boundary of the lab area. They were well-armed, but the shielding used by Malcolm’s team made them difficult targets, particularly in the flickering light of the hallways. The guards expected a frontal assault; instead his people scattered in all directions and elevations.

A laser shot blasted against Malcolm’s neck, setting his skin on fire. Six months ago it would have been a fatal hit, so powerful was the energy driving it, but not today. His adaptive shielding had shifted ninety percent of its strength to the impact point in a nanosecond to fend off the duration of the burst.

Still, he had exposed himself for too long, a stupid mistake on his part. “Be advised, they’re packing heavier firepower than intel indicated. Watch your shields.”

Devore tossed a splinter grenade toward the guards. Four seconds later it burst into fifty tiny electrified spears, which proceeded to hone in on the closest heat signatures.

It wasn’t pleasant. He’d seen more than one massacre, but the acid still rose to burn his throat at the gore now coating the walls, floor and ceiling as they moved past the bodies toward the lab entrance. This particular style of killing was not one of the highlights of his job.

“Paredes, try to circumvent the doors. If we blow them we risk creating a cave-in on top of us.”

They took up positions protecting Paredes while he worked on the door security, taking out three new arrivals without the need for further splinter grenades.

“Done.”

The thick, double-glassed doors opened to a tech center. Chairs were scattered around the room, divorced from the stations they presumably belonged to, a sign the lab had been hurriedly evacuated.

Beyond the room was an entrance not made of glass, but instead doors that looked like they could withstand a blast far larger than his team would be able to create.

No one had expected this to be simple. “Captain, find a way to get those doors open.”

“Yes, sir.” Paredes went to work at the nearest terminal, glyphs flashing as multiple internally stored routines did the bulk of the work. “I can get them open, but it’s going to reset the security network. Means the lifts will work again, but so will the turrets.”

“Do it.” He and the others moved to either side of the large doors, uncertain as to once open how long they would remain so.

The ceiling above them shuddered from a distant, low boom. Was OTS trying to bomb their way into the building? He was somewhat surprised any of them were still alive and fighting, if glad for the continued diversion they represented.

The doors began sliding open. As soon as there was a twenty-centimeter gap, a rocket flew through it.

“Shit!” So the mechs were already in attack mode.

Grenier crouched beside Malcolm. “Let me handle this. Distract it for me?”

“We’re on it.”

The Major blurred into indistinctness behind his shield until only his internal tracker revealed his location on the map. Devore lobbed a chaff bomb into the room, drawing a staccato of laser fire from the mech.

Malcolm detached a splinter grenade from his belt and hurled it through the opening toward the mech. Most of the shrapnel didn’t penetrate far enough into the mech’s exterior armor to matter, but it had been intended as a diversion in any event.

Meanwhile Grenier had slipped inside, slithered up the interior wall using grip pads and reached the ceiling. As he crept above the mech, Devore fired a harpoon into its chest as a final distraction.

Grenier’s shield vanished as he dropped onto the shoulders of the enormous mech and jammed a probe into a neck joint. The mech thrashed about, but he held on.

After a few seconds the mech stopped jerking, then stopped firing. Grenier motioned them in from atop the mech. “The other two are in the left and right passages. We need to drive through the one on the right before the left one catches us.”

“Lead the way, Major.”

The mech pivoted and barreled forward. They followed a close step behind as the mech rounded the corner and immediately fired on its approaching partner. A barrage of fire in both directions ensued, but as their controlled mech had gotten the jump on its opponent, it was still standing when the other fell.

“You good, Major?”

“Sir.” He nodded tightly from his position crouched high on the mech’s back.

“Move, now!” They sprinted forward, the mech lumbering with such force the floor rumbled. A rocket impaled itself in the far wall just as they turned the next corner, missing Devore by less than a meter. The final mech had caught up to them. “Pivot!”

Grenier and his mech spun around to engage, but a second rocket caught its left arm and sent it crashing into the wall. Two harpoons from his men impaled the oncoming mech, one jamming in the joint of a leg and slowing its forward progress.

Abruptly Grenier leapt off his mech and waved them away. “Get back around the corner!”

The controlled mech surged forward, wobbling as it charged down the hall. The two mechs plowed into one another—then both exploded in a violent burst of energy.

The walls on either side buckled and crumbled; the ceiling rained down dust particles and jagged cracks formed and spread across the floor. Shards of metal shot through the hall to spear into the walls.

Malcolm raised an eyebrow at Grenier. The Major shrugged. “Self-destruct.”

“Good job. The doors to the interior room are twenty meters ahead.”

Dr. Canivon, take cover if you’re able.

Done.

Paredes hacked the final doors open. They entered low and quick.

The far end of the long room was filled with server racks. Terminals and permanent screens filled the left side; most of the rest of the space had been converted into a makeshift medical operation.

On a cot near the wall lay a woman in scrubs. His ocular implant couldn’t get a lock on her features—some kind of interference—but her body type and general appearance matched that of Olivia Montegreu. She looked to be unconscious.

“Dr. Canivon?”

Another woman rose up from beside the cot—as did the man holding her in his grasp and a Daemon at her temple. “Make one move toward Ms. Montegreu and the doctor dies.”

Malcolm made a show of raising his hands in apparent surrender. “Easy there. You don’t need to do something you can’t take back.” He kept talking, his voice soothing. “We can work this out, and no one needs to die.”

“I won’t let you—” The man’s body spasmed from the stunner jolt delivered to the base of his neck and trailed his gun to the floor. Grenier’s shield shimmered and disappeared as he secured the gun then dragged the unconscious body a safe distance away.

Malcolm stepped forward as Dr. Canivon fell against the wall with a gasp. “Ma’am, are you injured?”

Her head shook; her hands were shaking, too, but she inhaled deeply and seemed to regain control of herself. Tough woman. “I’m fine. Thank you…Colonel Jenner, correct?”

He wiped sweat and a smear of blood off his forehead then gave her a comforting smile. “That’s right, ma’am. We need to get you out of here.”

Devore slipped off her pack, crouched next to it and pulled out a personal shield and basic ballistic vest. She handed them up to Malcolm, and he took them to Canivon. “These will provide you some protection. We’ll provide the rest.”

She let him help her into the vest, after which he secured the shield generator at the small of her back.

She gazed at the woman lying unconscious on the cot. “What about her?”

His voice lowered to a whisper. “Did you complete the procedure?”

She nodded mutely.

Malcolm walked over to the prone form, positioned the barrel of his Daemon on her forehead and pressed the trigger.

The recoil knocked him back two meters into a cabinet. The air charged with ions as the energy of the shot was repelled in every direction.

He blinked, flabbergasted. “What the hell? Grenier, find the source of that shield—”

A loud boom drowned out the rest of the sentence, followed by overlapping shouts and gunfire.

“Paredes?”

“Looks like some of the OTS team has reached this floor.”

He had to give them credit; they were damn persistent. “Set the rest of the micro-bombs and let’s get out of here. We’ll have to take Montegreu out with the building. Dr. Canivon, stay behind me, stop when I stop and move when I move.”