The Independent Worlds (The Sixteen Galaxies Book 2) (19 page)

“Take us right over the shaft, Drifter. Keep this height,” Jack said over the comms.

“You crazy?” Drifter said. “What you gonna do, just jump down the damned hole?”

“Yep,” came the terse reply.

Drifter’s eyes focused on the shrinking gap between the two huge doors. “The doors are closing! The gap will be tight!”

“Well,” Jack shouted, “how good a pilot
are
you?”

“I am the God-damned
best
!” Drifter snarled, and threw the chopper at the gap between the doors. He flicked the nose up and pulled it to a stop perfectly above the opening.

Jack and Ron both leapt into the gap with just inches to spare.

Drifter saw both men drop into the gaping maw. No way they’d survive that, he thought.

“They’ll be fine, Drifter,” Truly assured him. “Just be ready to pick them up when they appear at the top.”

The old pilot swung the chopper away from the shaft and commenced a continuous sweep around it. “Yes dear,” he muttered.

*****

John sprinted as fast as his lithe new body could go, focused on the shaft where one of the choppers hovered. He realized he had no gun, and cursed. Well, let’s see how these enhanced muscles go in hand to hand, then, he thought. As he closed on the shaft, he saw two men drop into the hole.

“Oh no you don’t, he growled. He couldn’t get much closer without exposure to the chopper’s machine guns, and he didn’t fancy that idea. It was a long way for a quick portal, but he tried to request one from the AI anyway. The reply took precious seconds, but he soon disappeared.

*****

Drifter spotted a guard setting up some kind of launcher behind a truck. “SAM at the truck, 4 o’clock!” he yelled into his microphone. He frantically swung the big chopper round, but he heard the sputtering rasp of the Cobra’s mini-guns and the truck started to disintegrate at an impressive rate. The guard dropped the launcher and made a break for the adjacent building. Bear sent a volley of copper-jacketed lead after him to underscore the point.

“Nice work, Tiny!” Drifter called.

“You’re welcome,” came the reply.

Three men made a run together to get a better spot to attack from, and Bobby tore up the tarmac in front of them with his M60. All three did a rapid about face, and Drifter used the pintle-mounted quad M60s to hurry them along.

*****

Jack and Ron hurtled down into the black emptiness of the shaft. On their way down into the depths, they had just one brief exchange.

“Hope this works.”

“Me too.”

When he could see the bottom loom out of the dark at him, Ron flicked the switch on the gravity nullification field Truly had supplied him with. The pair decelerated and stopped five feet from the floor. Ron flicked the switch again and they both landed with a thud on the concrete at the bottom of the shaft. The sound of the choppers and occasional gunfire was still audible, but heavily distorted and full of echo down here. They heard a grinding sound and saw the two big doors at the top shut with a thud.

“Hope we got another way out of here,” Jack muttered.

“Guess we must have,” Ron replied. They both gave a start when a young man in his twenties appeared right beside them. Jack swung a fist without hesitation and the young man slammed into the opposite wall. He came straight back at them, and Ron threw a sidekick that the young man dodged. He danced back, a savage grin on his face. “You two aren’t the only ones who’ve had a little upgrade, boys.”

He leapt at Ron, who sidestepped him and put a rabbit punch into the back of his head. It threw the young man face first into the wall. He spun round and wiped a dribble of blood off his chin. “Boy, you’re
still
a hard man to kill, ain’t ya?”

Ron did a double take. His eyes narrowed. “Crabtree?”

Jack had got behind John and slammed a boot into the back of his knee. John doubled over backwards and Jack hit him with both hands clenched together. John flew across the shaft and once more hit the side wall of the shaft. Ron unslung a Heckler & Koch MP7 and fired a burst at Crabtree, who disappeared.

Jack frowned at Ron. “Who the hell was
that
?”

Ron shook his head. “You’re not gonna believe this, but that was John Crabtree. Seems like he got some kind of body swap.”

Jack shrugged. “Unimportant right now, we’re on a clock. He looked around him. The bottom of the shaft was now empty. Sunk into the wall on one side was a heavy armor-plated blast door.

Jack fished in his pocket and pulled out a tiny plastic bottle. “Get ready,” he said. He squirted the contents of the bottle onto the thick steel blast door.

They both got their weapons ready and set themselves up on either side of the door. The cylindrical shape of the shaft was less than ideal for this situation, but beggars can’t be choosers.

The micro-drones from the plastic bottle, coded specifically to consume steel and self-replicate until the steel ran out, made short work of the door. Ron and Jack both knew that several guards would be on the other side, but none of them were adventurous enough to emerge. Jack tried a portal, but it didn’t work. He didn’t think for a minute it would, really.

He unclipped a small sphere off his belt and showed it to Ron. “You ready?”

Ron gave him a terse nod, and Jack tossed the sphere into the corridor. The instant the sphere hit the floor inside the doorway, it lit up with an intense white light. One second later there was a deep thump, and the power went out. The white light was replaced by deep darkness. It took only a few seconds for the two men’s eyes to adjust, and they sprinted through the short corridor and into a large room. They both flitted across the room in diagonally opposite directions. There was no hail of gunfire, no cries of alarm. The men inside the room were completely blinded by the two extremes of light the little sphere had created.

Jack fought back years of training and, instead of two taps per target to the head, he put two bullets into the upper thigh of each man he could see. He dived behind a desk as gunfire erupted everywhere. He saw Ron put three men down in a similar fashion before he also dived for cover. The gunfire continued for several seconds; two men went down to the ironically named ‘Friendly Fire’.

Jack leapt from behind the desk and into the hallway behind it, Ron close on his tail. They rounded a corner and Ron pulled out a little device; it was in the shape of a cube with a single needle-like protrusion. He reached in behind a cabinet and drove the pointed barb into an electrical outlet. They then made their way swiftly to the inner stairwell.

Kestil seethed with rage. He’d made his way to the command room of the complex and started to direct his troops. Within a few minutes everything went out. “Power’s down!” somebody shouted needlessly.

‘Where are they?’

‘Near the main shaft. They have removed the blast door and are inside the first room. I placed several assets ready, but they are all incapacitated. The top doors are now closed; they have no way out.’

‘Oh, they’ll have a way out; somehow. Where’s Crabtree?’

‘I portaled him into the main shaft with those two, but they nearly killed him. He is now with the Starchild.’

Kestil smashed a fist on the console in front of him.
‘Get more assets down to the Starchild, and set up ambushes between them and him.’

‘I shall do it now. Do you require-’

Kestil waited, but in his mind there was only silence.
‘What happened? Where are you?’

His blood ran cold. Several in the command room had torches out. He snatched one from a nearby technician. “As many as possible, get your weapons and come with me.”

Another technician grabbed his arm as he headed for the door.

He rounded on the unfortunate man. “
What?!
”

The technician pointed to the opposite wall. “The wires, sir.”

Kestil looked at the cables that ran along the wall near the ceiling. They were disintegrating rapidly. Lengths of cable fell off all four walls of the room as he watched. He uttered a long string of expletives and led his men down the corridor.

*****

Four men had set themselves up on the third level inside the inner stairwell. They wore night-vision goggles and carried AR-15 SP1 carbine assault rifles. They had one goal. Nobody gets past. Out of the corner of his eye, one of them saw two shadows shoot past down the center of the stairwell. “They jumped past!” he cried. He leaned out over the railing and fired a burst at the ground, but there was nobody there. “Get to the bottom, now!”

All four hurtled down the stairwell. They stopped on the balcony near the bottom. The leader signaled one man forward. He crept down the remaining stairs, weapon at the ready. A hand came through the gap in the stairs and grabbed one of his boots. The man did a face plant onto the concrete at the bottom and was rendered unconscious.

“They’re underneath!” the leader cried and jumped the railing to the floor below. Two rapid shots rang out, and he writhed on the floor, clutching his leg in agony. The two on the balcony looked at each other. One nodded to the other and they both ran down the steps together, firing blindly behind them as they went. Two shots, then two shots more, and they were both on the ground beside their unconscious companion at the foot of the stairs.

*****

Kestil trotted along a corridor with 15 men close behind. Torch beams flicked nervously down every corridor they passed. One of the men tapped his shoulder. “The generators are the other way, sir.”

Kestil made no reply, but shone his torch on the floor where small sections of electrical cable that had fallen from the wall conduits rapidly disappeared. The man’s face fell, and he nodded. “Right.”

They entered the main stairwell and Kestil led them down to the bottom. Four men lay on the floor there, and Kestil pointed to them. “One of you call and get these moved out of the way. Then get them some help.”

He turned to the others. “The man strapped down in the room we’re going into is the most precious being in the known universe. No matter what happens, no harm must come to him. Am I clear?”

They all nodded. One spoke up, “What about the two hostiles?”

Kestil scowled. “Kill them. If you can.”

*****

Jack and Ron entered the room David was in. The technicians that had attended him were gone. Jack looked him over. “He’s a mess. Can you hear me, David?”

David nodded and groaned, but could form no words. Jack caught where David’s eyes were looking and spun round in a half crouch. John Crabtree had come from behind the door, but missed his swing at Jack’s head. Ron aimed his weapon, but David was right behind Crabtree. Jack threw a punch at John’s throat, but he swung aside. He grabbed Jack and threw him bodily at Ron. The two collided and went down. Ron rolled sideways and got a clear shot at Crabtree, who was focused on Jack. Ron shot Crabtree once in the shoulder, and then once in the chest. The 4.6mm round hit Crabtree’s body armor, but the impact put him on the ground. Jack pulled out some zip-ties from his jacket pocket and bound Crabtree good and tight. Crabtree flexed his arms and the zip-ties bit into his flesh.

Jack patted him on the head. “You’ll cut your hands and feet off before you snap them, Johnny boy. Compliments of Truly; unbreakable zip-ties. Pity your boss keeps that fancy shield of his to himself, huh?” Jack fished out a small roll of duct tape and firmly taped John’s mouth. He looked at John for a minute, and then clubbed him unconscious with his MP7’s butt. “Now we
know
he’ll stay quiet.”

Ron made himself useful and got busy on the straps that secured David to the bed. Jack peered at the patches on David’s head. The cables that had joined them to the mainframe by the wall were gone.

Ron saw where he was looking. “Leave them on him; Truly said they might be directly connected to his brain. The micro-drones were coded not to consume wires that were surrounded by human tissue.”

Jack helped with the straps and they soon had David free. Ron hoisted David onto his shoulder. He marveled at how light the man was. He was dreadfully thin, Ron realized. There were voices at the stairwell. Several men, he thought. Then he heard Kestil’s voice.

“Oh, crap, we’re screwed. We can’t fight Kestil with David here,” Ron breathed. Behind him Jack chuckled.

“What’s so funny?” Ron asked.

“Every bit of technology outside of our bodies is dead, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ron replied, “I forgot about that.”

*****

Kestil fanned his men out around the door to the room where David was. “I know you’re extremely dangerous, gentlemen,” he called, “even without your enhancements. However, you have no chance of escape. The silo is sealed and those doors were built to withstand a direct nuclear hit. Leave the Starchild and come out with your hands where we can see them.”

*****

After Jack and Ron had done a high-dive into the shaft, Drifter kept up a staggered and random pattern above the base. The minutes seemed like hours, and he was well aware of the certainty of backup that would take their choppers down in seconds. He doubted the black coating on the birds would hide heat signature, so air to air missiles from a modern fighter wouldn’t miss. He had no idea how the three men were to get out. One look at the two big concrete doors that were now shut tight told him it wasn’t that way. But, Truly told him to stay near the shaft and wait.

He spotted another SAM operator and yelled the location. The ground around the man with the launcher was shredded by the Cobra’s guns and he went down. Drifter watched the man crawl away, dragging one leg behind him as he went. Concentrated gunfire came from a shed door to their left, and Bobby’s gun chattered. Puffs of dust erupted around the doorway and several chunks of masonry fell away. Drifter smiled. There’d be no more trouble from that area.

He saw all the lights around the facility go out. “Looks like those two are doing just fine,” he said to nobody in particular.

Thunk!

Drifter slewed the Huey wildly, but there was only the one hit to the fuselage. “Everybody okay?”

“Yeah,” Bobby replied. “Think we got a sniper up on the east ridge. He put a hole in the side about three feet from me. It’s a pretty big one, too.”

Drifter cursed. “Might be a .50 caliber. If he puts one into the turbines or the transmission we’re hosed big time. You get a line on him?”

“Nah,” Bobby replied, “but it definitely came from that east ridge.”

“Everyone that can, keep an eye on that ridge.” Drifter kept the Huey mobile; he jinked and slewed around, altering his speed as he went. He reached into a jacket pocket and pulled something out.

Thunk!

Drifter cursed loudly. “This guy’s
real
good; anyone hit?” Nobody spoke up. His eyes flicked over the instrument panels, but all looked fine. “Right, did anyone get a fix on him
that
time?”

“Yeah,” Bear said. “Got a muzzle flash over yonder.” He pointed to a spot on the east ridge.

“Here,” Drifter said and held out his left hand.

Bear grabbed the item off him. He peered at the little pen-shaped gadget. He pressed a button and a thin red beam shot out of it. He smiled and directed the laser pointer at the spot on the ridge where he’d seen the muzzle flash. There was enough smoke around to etch a clear red beam.

“Mitch,” Drifter called, “you got that paint?”

“We’re on it.” Within seconds, rockets began to hurtle towards the ridge from the Cobra. One after another 7 pairs of rockets exploded into the trees.

*****

Barney saw the little red light on the chopper flicker and brighten. He frowned for a second, then realized what it was. He’d set up behind a big fallen tree and he now dived down and attempted to bury himself under it. He heard the rockets hiss towards him and wriggled under the fallen tree as far as possible. The explosions started, and the first was only off by about fifty feet. The ones that followed were spread around the area. The air whistled and crackled all around him and he knew his worst fears were realized; flechettes. Each rocket carried 2200 dart-like nails, packed in rows between explosive charges. As each rocket hit the tree canopy, the nails were discharged out of the rocket tube and spread in a hail of iron destruction. Several darts ripped through the tree trunk, but by a miracle, none found Barney.

He lay there for a few minutes and listened to branches, large and small, hit the ground around him. He got to his feet, surrounded by drifts of shattered leaves that fell like oversized green snowflakes.

“Okay,” he said to the decimated forest, “Barney don’t want to play no more.” He slung the AXM over his shoulder and began to pick his way up and over the ridge. Barney had heard the mini-gun earlier and the rockets confirmed his suspicions that the second chopper was a Cobra. If it was fully fitted, then it had another 38 rockets in the two main launchers. He didn’t like his chances if they sent another salvo his way; he’d had his miracle for the day.

*****

The room where David was remained completely silent after Kestil’s challenge. Around him, 15 assault weapons were trained on the doorway. Not a sound could be heard from inside. Kestil frowned. The only way past me is a portal, he thought, and the jammers…his blood froze. Oh, no. “They can portal!” he cried. He ran for the stairwell with his men in hot pursuit. Then he suddenly stopped. Curse me for a fool! he thought, and portaled to the top of the shaft.

*****

Around the base, the rocket attack had discouraged any more gunfire at the choppers. Every man kept his head down and prayed for the two birds to just go away. Drifter kept the Huey meandering around the shaft, but his eyes searched the sky constantly. Time was ticking away, and any minute now he expected a counterstrike. Truly had told him the people guarding the site were government agents, and he knew the US government didn’t take kindly to people who shot at their employees.

“So, how do we get out of here?” Bear asked.

“I ain’t been told that bit, yet,” Drifter replied.

“Well that’s just wonderful,” Bear grumbled.

They hovered around for another two minutes, and then Bobby gave a shout. “There! By the shaft, I see them!”

Drifter spun the chopper on its axis and headed for the men.

“Hold the aircraft perfectly still, please Drifter,” Truly said. He pulled the bird’s nose level and did as he was told. Jack, Ron and David appeared on board.

“Head directly west, please,” Truly requested.

“Heading out on 270, Mitch,” Drifter called.

“Right behind ya, boss man.”

Ron lay David on the deck, and Robert knelt by his son. “Oh my God, David, what have they done to you?”

David was unconscious, and Robert tried to make him as comfortable as he could. The young man was white as a sheet, his lips pale and dark shadows hung under his closed eyes.

“There are two fighter aircraft inbound, Drifter; maintain this course and they will intercept you in precisely 4 minutes and thirty-nine seconds.”

“So where you want me to head, then?”

“Please stay on this course.”

“You
what
now?!”

“Please trust me, Drifter.”

Drifter’s brow furrowed. “I really am too old for this crap.”

*****

Kestil materialized just in time to see Jack and Ron, with David over Ron’s shoulder, disappear not ten feet away. He looked down at the jammer on his wrist and frowned. He tried to locate the nearest helicopter and calculate an ingress point, but they were coated with some kind of light absorption material, and he couldn’t get a good enough fix on either of them.

He heard the welcome sound of his AI in his mind.
‘I have satellite coverage. There are two fighter aircraft inbound. I can assist their guidance systems; they will not miss.’