Fire and Brimstone (Chaos of the Covenant Book 2) Read online

  Villaueve hopped off Gorix’s shoulder and onto the table, walking over to a terminal and turning it on. He stared at a graph there for a second. “These are the readings from the sensors in the container. Synapse activity is increasing, which is good. She’s responding well to the bath.” He walked over to the container. He was half the size of Trin’s head. “Connecting the organic wires to the mechanical ones isn’t trivial, but it also isn’t impossible. My work with augmentation is what brought me to Anvil. The Company wanted me to develop new enhancements for soldiers. Lucky for you, I hid a few of the prototypes when I was fired for bypassing standardized testing procedures in an effort to prove my work more efficiently.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I may have allegedly drugged a few of the soldiers and forcibly added the augmentations while they were unconscious,” Villaueve said. “Those alleged soldiers may have accidentally perished. In retrospect, it wasn’t the best idea, but my intentions were good.”

  He turned to Gorix, who lifted him in one of his hands. They walked across the workshop floor to a metal crate there. Gorix used two of his other hands to lift it open, revealing what looked like a suit of armor.

  “It has the flexibility of a battlesuit, but the overlapping greaves double the protection and enhanced synthetic musculature greatly upgrades the overall strength. A centralized SOC handles all of the instruction processing, and also doubles as a Tactical Command Unit.”

  “It looks like an upgraded battlesuit. One that’s meant to have a body inside.”

  “The original design is intended to be attached to a human body with bolts, screws, and wires. It’s non-removable. As I mentioned, I had trouble finding volunteers willing to test it.”

  “I can’t imagine why,” Ursan said. The armor looked mean and impressive, but who in their right mind would agree to dedicate their entire life to wearing something like that?

  “Gorix is going to create a mechanical skeleton to use inside the suit and a pump to send blood and oxygen into the organic part of the brain. We’ll insert the head into the helmet and then solder it together so it can’t be easily removed. Assuming we can return her brain operation to its prior condition, I think we can meet your goal of returning her to functional.”

  As a soldier inside of an advanced suit of armor. Ursan looked at Gorix and Villaueve, a smile spreading across his face. “You won’t let me down. I know it. How long do you need?”

  “Eight days,” Gorix said.

  “That’s a long time.”

  “This is intricate work, Captain, despite the simple description.”

  “Yeah. I get it. Okay. However long it takes, it’ll be worth it.”

  “There is the matter of payment.”

  “My ship? She’s in orbit. Send a crew up to claim her. I’ll sign whatever needs to be signed.”

  “Of course,” Gorix said.

  “I’ll get out of your face now,” Ursan said. “I know you have a lot of work to do.”

  “Vilix will escort you out.”

  Ursan followed the Plixian and Dak back through the workshop, into the tunnels and out to the secret door, and from the stairwell back to the warehouse.

  “I told you it could be done,” he said. “I told you she wasn’t gone forever.”

  “You did, Boss,” Dak said, his expression concerned.

  “Then why so sour? We should go get a drink to celebrate.”

  “I just hope she comes back the way you want her to,” Dak said. “Without any brain damage.”

  “She will. But even if she doesn’t, once I return the Gift to her it’ll heal.”

  “I hope you’re right. It’s good to see you happy again.”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  They entered the warehouse, crossing it quickly. They were halfway across when Ursan noticed that all of the vagrants had vanished.

  “Where is everybody?” he said.

  Dak paused beside him, drawing his sidearm. “I don’t like it.”

  “A double cross?” Ursan said, scanning the area. He didn’t see anything or anyone.

  “Gorix isn’t that kind of bug,” Dak said.

  “Captain Ursan Gall,” a voice said.

  Ursan looked around. He still didn’t see anything.

  “Yeah?” he replied, less than confidently.

  They appeared from the dark shadows of the ceiling above them, dropping twenty meters to the ground with apparent ease. They were creatures unlike anything he had seen before. Humanoid in shape, with muscular, mottled bodies, large heads and mouths full of sharp teeth, their feet ending in curled claws.

  There were a dozen of the creatures surrounding them, crouched and compact and ready to attack.

  “My name is Seth,” the largest of them said.

  He stood, and Ursan watched with fascinated curiosity as Seth changed, his body converting from monster to man.

  “What the frag?” Dak said.

  “I've been sent as an emissary for the Children of the Covenant. Gloritant Thraven sends his regards.”

  “Gloritant?” Ursan said.

  He had never heard that title before and didn’t understand it. Not that it mattered. There was only one reason for them to have come. His hands went up, the Gift flowing through him. He pushed out toward Seth, watching as the emissary was thrown backward and into the wall and smiling at the outcome. Whoever these assholes were, they were no match for his power.

  “Not the best idea,” Seth said, getting back to his feet.

  Then he changed again, his form shifting within seconds to that of the beast. He clamped his jaws a few times, creating an echoing snap in the chamber. The rest of the creatures did the same.

  “Uh, Boss,” Dak said.

  “Don’t worry. I can take them.”

  The creatures pounced, all of them coming at once. Dak started shooting, hitting three of the Children and knocking them back, while Ursan swept the others up with the Gift.

  Or tried to. The power washed into them. It slowed them, but they didn’t react the way Seth had. They didn’t go flying back.

  “Boss?” Dak said again. He threw a big fist at one of the creatures, batting it aside, before two more were on him, tearing at him with sharp claws and reaching for his throat with their teeth. “Ahhhh.”

  “Dak,” Ursan said.

  He clenched his teeth and growled, his fingers elongating as he did. The first monster reached him, and he stepped toward it, ducking below its lunge and raking its stomach with his claws. It howled as it passed over him, but he barely noticed. He lunged at one of the beasts on Dak, delivering a Gift-enhanced punch to the temple that sent it rolling across the floor. Freed up, Dak grabbed the other, throwing it away. It landed on all fours, turning and rushing back.

  “There are too many,” Dak said. He shot another one, knocking it down. It rose a few seconds later, the wound healed.

  “They have the Gift,” Ursan said as one got its teeth on his arm and bit down, nearly severing his hand at the wrist. He jabbed his claws into the creature’s eye, and it relaxed the hold. He punched it in the side, breaking its ribs, and it let go as it rolled away.

  That one was replaced with another, who tackled him, pinning him to the ground. Seth. The large monster dug its claws into his shoulders and hips, keeping him in one place. Ursan looked past to Dak, suddenly surrounded by the creatures. They closed on him slowly, absorbing his slugs until he ran out of them. He turned, looking back at Ursan, who could see the fear on his friend’s face.

  “Don’t kill him,” Ursan said. “Please. It wasn’t his fault. He was only following orders.”

  Seth looked back at the scene.

  “We appreciate loyalty,” he said. A sharp bark paused the attack. “Your man is free to go.”

  Dak continued to stand there. “Boss?”

  “Dak, go. There’s nothing you can do for me.”

  “But Boss.”

  “No. Go.”

  Dak lowered his head and start
ed walking, heading toward the exit. The other creatures followed him all the way to the door.

  “If you’re going to kill me, kill me,” Ursan said.

  “Those weren’t the instructions,” Seth said. He backed away, standing and changing once more. “Thraven needs you.”

  “For what?” Ursan asked.

  “Bait.”

  28

  Gant waited behind the vent cover he had dislodged from the bulkhead, watching and listening. He shifted from one foot to the other, growing impatient. Where the hell was everybody?

  He came out of hiding, dropping the cover onto the ground. It clattered lightly. He paused to listen. No one had heard.

  He had expected it to be easier to start killing the Brimstone’s crew members. The problem was that they were so bunched together, it was tough to get them separated where he could hit them one on one. He wished for the millionth time that he hadn’t lost his gun. Or that he could find another weapon. He would settle for a nice heavy pipe at this point.

  He could wish all he wanted. That wasn’t going to get the job done.

  “You’re an engineer, Prylshhharrnavramm,” he barked to himself. “Figure something out.”

  He remained stationary for another minute or so, working through the problem. He needed to hit multiple targets at once. He couldn’t hold a Terran gun.

  But maybe a bot could.

  Not a whole bot, but a piece of one? Now that would be stellar.

  He picked up the vent and put it back in place. He had seen a pair of loader bots in the hangar when he arrived. He dropped onto his hands and started running on all fours. It was embarrassing and primitive to move this way, but it was also faster, and there was nobody around to see it.

  He had to go up two decks to get to the hangar. He paused at the entrance to the emergency stairs to listen. Clear. He quickly opened the hatch, entered, and closed it behind him. Then he hopped onto the short railing that separated the declines. He made sure it was clear before he dropped down, catching the next railing like an acrobat, swinging around and dropping again, repeating the process twice more until he was on the right level. He shimmied up to the hatch and activated it. He leaned out, peering into the corridor. He was close to the hangar, and a soldier was walking away from him, in the same direction he needed to go.

  Gant moved into the hallway, closing the hatch behind him again before dropping onto his hands and feet once more. It was faster. It was also quieter, and gave him a smaller profile. He scurried along the side of the wall behind the soldier, getting close but not too close. He needed to make it into the hangar without being noticed.

  He trailed the soldier, following him along the corridor until they reached the larger, wider entrance leading into the hangar. He urged the soldier past it with his mind, hoping he would continue on and purring softly in response when he walked past the entry.

  The hangar doors opened. A small Terran in a pilot’s jumpsuit stepped through it.

  “Lyso. Wait up.”

  The first soldier paused and turned around.

  Gant cursed under his breath.

  “Hey,” the pilot said. “Where are you headed?”

  “What’s doing, Bol-” the soldier started to reply, until his eyes fell on Gant. “What the? That’s the biggest damn rat I’ve ever seen.”

  “Huh?” Bolar said, shifting to look. “How can this thing have rats? She’s brand new. And isn’t that a lightsuit it’s wearing?”

  There was one other benefit to moving on four limbs. It made it easier to jump a longer distance.

  Gant sprung up, launching through the air toward the two soldiers, growling as he did. He caught Bolar off-guard, using his face as a springboard, slamming it hard enough that he stumbled back a step. He bounced from there to the wall, pushing off and coming at the other soldier, spinning and kicking.

  The soldier got his hands up, managing to block the kick but cursing at the pain of the impact, Gant’s lightsuit giving him more force behind his blows. Gant let himself fall to the floor between them, noticing Bolar was going for his sidearm. He bounced up again, ramming his fist into Bolar’s groin, causing him to shout in pain. Gant leveraged himself off the pilot’s leg, pushing and springing back toward the soldier. A quick punch caught the soldier in the nose, breaking it and sending him reeling.

  He turned back to Bolar, moving behind him, jumping up and getting his hands around his neck. The pilot reached back for him, trying to dislodge him. He held tight and pulled up and sideways, the strength of the lightsuit allowing him to break the pilot’s neck.

  Bolar dropped the the floor. Gant bounced off him, standing face to face with the soldier, who had enough time to grab a knife from his boot.

  “Where the hell did you come from?” the soldier asked.

  “Exactly,” Gant replied.

  Then he charged toward the soldier. The difference in size threw the man off at first. He wasn’t used to something smaller than him being so aggressive. He held the knife out to intercept, but Gant shifted vectors, jumping and turning, hitting the wall beside the soldier, planting and pushing off. The soldier tried to adjust. Too slow. Gant grabbed his forearm, in his hands, opening his mouth and biting his wrist. He felt nauseous as his teeth sank into the flesh, reaching the muscles and tendons and going right through. The soldier cried out, his hand unable to hold the knife. He swung his arm into the wall, bashing Gant against it. Gant grunted, letting go, hitting the ground and rolling to where the knife had come to rest. He scooped it up, chittering with satisfaction as he did.

  The soldier reached for him. Gant ducked beneath his legs, cutting into his left calf as he did, powering through to the tendons and forcing the soldier to fall. He rolled away from a heavy punch, and then jumped up and stabbed the soldier in the throat, wrenching the knife away and flipping back to the floor.

  The soldier fell forward. Gant walked back to Balor, whose eyes were open, his mind aware.

  “Nothing personal,” Gant said. “You tried to kill Abbey.” Then he finished the job.

  He looked at the carnage. He wouldn’t be able to hide that. Oh well. He just needed to move a little faster. He entered the hangar, hurrying to the corner where he had seen the loading bots. They were big and heavy, with numerous appendages intended to help lift, carry, and position all kinds of items, from crates to ordnance. These looked newer than the ones he was accustomed to. Their metal frames were still clean, and one of them even recognized he was approaching.

  “Do you have work for me?” it asked.

  “Not exactly,” Gant replied. “Enter diagnostic mode for repairs.”

  “My systems do not report any existing anomalies.”

  “Excuse me. Enter diagnostic mode for upgrade.”

  “Entering diagnostic mode.”

  The bot’s eyes went from blue to yellow. Gant examined the shell of the machine for a moment. Then he headed further into the corner, to a storage rack full of tools and supplies needed to maintain the bots. He found the tools he needed and quickly began disassembling the machine.

  “Ten minutes,” he said to himself. “All I need is ten minutes.”

  29

  The soldiers arrived eight minutes later. Three of them, in plain black utilities. One of them had picked up Bolar’s gun.

  They entered like a special ops team, standing beside the open hatch, sweeping the room first with their eyes, and then with the gun.

  “Head over to the shuttle,” one of them said. “You can grab a gun in there.”

  The two soldiers started running that way.

  “Do you need assistance?” one of the loader bots said, stepping out from its corner of the hangar.

  The lead soldier was jumpy, and he turned and shot it, three times before he realized he wasn’t being attacked.

  “Shit on a quasar,” he said. “Scared the crap out of me. Yeah, maybe you can help me. Has anyone else been in here recently?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

/>   The other two soldiers emerged from the shuttle, each holding a rifle. They joined the first.

  “It was a Gant. He came to upgrade my partner.”

  “We don’t have a Gant on our crew. What kind of upgrade?”

  “This kind,” Gant said, dropping down from the back of the loader.

  A thin rod of metal ran along his arm, bent at the elbow and heading up to a mount that wrapped across his shoulders. The appendage was attached there, along with one of the other rifles from the shuttle. He pulled the rod forward, which forced the pull on the appendage to move, which depressed the trigger on the rifle. Flechettes spewed from it, sweeping across the three soldiers as they tried to react. His aim was a little wild, but the rounds found their targets, cutting the soldiers down.

  “Heh. It works.” Gant shifted his shoulders, adjusting the weight. “I need to tighten the mount, though. The recoil is a bitch. Loader, can you lift this thing for me?”

  The loader bot swiveled to face him, taking the mount and raising it.

  “Thanks. Hold on one second.”

  He turned the bolts to tighten the contraption and then hurried over to the dead soldiers, ejecting the magazines from their rifles and bringing them back. He replaced the one in his weapon.

  “Okay, give it to me.”

  The loader lowered the mount back onto his shoulders. He shrugged it into position. It was pinching his chest now, and pulling at the hair. He didn’t have time to be a perfectionist. It would have to do.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “You are welcome,” the loader replied.

  Gant shifted his arms one more time and then began walking toward the hangar doors. There was no way the soldiers hadn’t alerted the bridge of what they had found. Why weren’t there any warning lights or sounds?

  Maybe they didn’t know how to turn them on?

  He chittered in laughter at the thought as he crossed the threshold into the corridor. Let them try to stop him now.

  He moved as fast as he could, thankful for the lightsuit’s added strength. He would never have been able to carry the mount on his own. He reached an intersection without pause, nearly falling as he tried to navigate without adjusting for the added weight. He reached out and steadied himself on the wall. If there were soldiers coming, they would either take the emergency stairs or the lifts. He wanted to beat them there.