Eternal Return (War Eternal Book 6) Page 7

  He doubted it, and it was an assumption he could use. He ran down the hallway to the lift, slinging the rifle he had taken over his shoulder and digging his hands into the space between doors. He tore a few of his fingernails getting purchase, but was quickly able to pry the lift open enough to get the butt of the rifle in, and from there to leverage it open far enough for him to enter. With nothing to force it closed, it remained that way, and he slipped through and into the shaft.

  He dropped his eyes, finding the lift itself resting twenty floors down. He had been expecting it was repulsor controlled, and he was pleased when he saw the cable running from the top of the building to the top of the cab. The building predated the XENO-1 and the technology that had come with it. That was a good enough reason to tear it down on its own.

  He considered climbing down to the lower floors but decided to stick with his original idea, at least for the moment. He moved aside, positioning himself behind the left-hand door, his feet sideways to keep him steady on the small lip. There were two ways this could go, and he was okay with either one of them.

  He waited, focusing on his breathing, forcing himself to calm. The synthetics were still pumping into him, keeping his adrenaline high, and so it was a hard thing to do. His body quivered, his muscles shaking with anticipation as he heard the squad move through the doorway to the stairs.

  He didn't hear them speaking to one another, but he was sure they were. He heard their feet spread apart as they split up, and then he heard doorways opening along the path to the lift as they searched the floor for him.

  One set of boots continued on, heading his way. As it drew nearer, he could hear the soft creak of the body armor the soldier was wearing. Mitchell shifted his position slightly, improving his balance, as the snub point of a shorter tactical rifle appeared through the space he had left.

  "He'd have to be a bat to have escaped down the shaft," the soldier said, his helmeted head appearing through the doors. He was so close to Mitchell his voice was audible beyond the helmet. "It's black as pitch in here."

  Mitchell lifted his rifle, putting it against the unfortunate mercenary's head.

  "Surprise," he said softly, pulling the trigger.

  The close range allowed the bullet to go right through the ballistic armor, though it had slowed enough by the time it passed through the soldier's skull that it didn't come out the other side. The mercenary fell where he stood, his head still inside the shaft, while Mitchell grabbed the tactical rifle and then jumped to the wire, using the strap of the weapon to protect his hands. He was almost down when the second merc reached the shaft and began shooting down at him. He let go, falling two meters to the top of the lift, and then sent a spray of fire back, his p-rat painting the target. The soldier had retreated before the bullets struck him, giving Mitchell time to get away.

  The floor above the top of the lift was three feet over his head. He scrambled to pull himself up, and then dug his hands into the door once more. He had to stop twice to shoot directly up at the mercenary above him to back him off and then hope the bullets didn't come back down on his head. Finally, he made a large enough space to slide through, coming out on a floor somewhere in the high twenties.

  He didn't know who or what Blackrock was, but he assumed Watson wouldn't send green soldiers out to try to kill him. To him, that meant the mercenaries already knew what floor he had come down on, and would be making their way to greet him sooner rather than later. If they were smart, they would also be taking up strong positions on the stairwells to cut off his access there. If he wanted to get out, he would have to go up or down one way or another.

  This floor wasn't much different than the first. Corridors with doorways into offices, which were either filled with cubes or standalone spaces. They were long defunct, the furniture mostly removed. Whatever was still there had been damaged in the fighting that had occurred in the city. A lot of the windows were broken, and there were chunks of concrete and shards of shrapnel littering the floors. A few desks and chairs remained, cracked and damaged. Someone had sprayed graffiti on the floor.

  Mitchell made his way to the stairs. He didn't try to enter. Instead, he examined the area around them. Would the mercenaries go in after him, or would they try to wait him out? There was enough rubble on the ground that he would hear their boots the moment they came through.

  He hefted the tactical rifle, taking a moment to explore its function. It was a little different than the standard military rifle he had been carrying earlier, with a shorter barrel and stock that kept it closer to the body and easier to manage in tight spaces. It still had a small wire attached to it at one point was probably connected to the soldier's helmet, in a more rudimentary version of an ARR.

  Because of that, there was no display on the weapon to give him an idea of the ammunition type or count remaining in the magazine. He imagined it was probably still fully-loaded, with at least thirty rounds judging by the size and shape of the mag. It had a nice feel, reminding him of railguns he had used in the future. He kept it ready while relegating the NX-20 to his back. The police rifle was nice enough, but it wouldn't compare to military issue anything.

  He reached behind his ear to the small transmitter positioned there. A pinhole camera was streaming the feed back to HQ from the device, separate from the audio feed. He held it in his fingertips and navigated his p-rat until he found the broadcast and automatically entered the 512-bit encryption key. The output of the stream appeared in the corner of his right eye.

  He put the rifle on his shoulder and navigated away from the stairwell, ducking around the corner and making his way to a restroom he had passed. When he reached the door, he knelt down and placed the camera against the wall on the other side, covering it slightly with a small bit of debris to make it less obvious. Then he entered with his weapon raised, just in case there were more squatters hiding inside. The last thing he needed was to get attacked by vagrants and have his position revealed. He swept the area, finding it clear.

  Then he waited.

  15

  Katherine and Trevor hid in the shadows of the alley, watching the Hornet as it spewed out two squads of mercenaries from its ass.

  Blackrock. Trevor was familiar with the mercenary outfit. He had almost become a member himself before Nova Taurus had decided it would rather use him as part of their research and development team. While Blackrock's units were composed of some of the best, his group in D.C. had been the best of the best. Or would have, if Watson hadn't mind-frigged them.

  He still woke up some mornings with the idea that the rampant AI was part of his imagination. That Jason was still alive and sleeping beside him. He would roll over, reaching a hand out in search of his lover, and feel only cold sheets instead. Then the pain would return. The anger. It motivated him to be an even better soldier. To be stronger and faster. He had given up the enhancers once before, as part of his agreement for employment with NT. Now that he was done with the military, officially at least, and done with the company, now that he had little left to lose, he was back on them, bigger and badder than ever.

  He could feel his muscles twitching, a side effect of the chemical cocktail that enhanced his senses. Mitchell had set him to lookout duty for the mission. It was a role that he was good at, but not the role he wanted to play. He had taken it like a good soldier and waited for the opportunity to start venting some of his frustration. Now he knew he was about to get his chance.

  Their eyes were locked on the bird. Mitchell had ordered them to ignore his situation and take the ship. It was their ticket out of this mess assuming they could get control of it, their one shot to make a clean getaway. Trevor had been concerned that Watson wouldn't risk an aircraft for this operation, that the intelligence was too smart to make that error. He had argued with Mitchell that they should head out immediately and try to escape on foot. The Colonel had rebutted him, agreeing that they were taking a risk, but it was the best chance they had, especially with Katherine on the squad. Trevor had
been unhappy with the decision at the time, but now he was thankful that Mitchell had been right.

  They watched the two squads of soldiers heading away from the ship and toward the building Mitchell was holed up in. They had seen the other gunship hovering above the same building. They had watched the soldiers drop from its belly on tight lines, coming down on the roof.

  "Get me my Hornet," Mitchell had said.

  Trevor admired the Colonel for his confidence and calm in the face of four squads of elite mercenaries. He also thought he was an idiot.

  "He won't make it out of there alive if we don't help him," Trevor said, turning to face Katherine.

  "We have orders," she replied.

  "He doesn't know what he's up against, Kate. We do. That's Blackrock over there, not some bullshit green security detail."

  "So what are you saying? We forget about the Hornet and try to back him up? Without that bird, we're going to be stuck here waiting for round two."

  "There are two of us here, and only one pilot on that boat. I can go lend Mitchell a hand while you sneak up on the bastard."

  "How do you know there's only one pilot?" she asked. "And even if there is, if they follow military protocol they'll be armed, armored, and ready to lift off at the first sign of trouble. We're carrying handguns that won't pierce that kevlar plate, which means our only advantage is in numbers and your chem-rage."

  Trevor paused for a moment. He hadn't told anyone he was back on the enhancers. Was it that obvious?

  "You know?" he asked.

  "Your sim scores jumped fifty percent, and you set an obstacle course record Mitchell can't beat even after his synthetics kick in. I think everyone knows."

  "Nobody said anything."

  "Why would they? If you want to kill yourself long-term to make yourself a better soldier now, nobody in the Riggers is going to stop you. We've got bigger problems." She pointed. "Like that gunship."

  "Or those soldiers," Trevor said. He put his eyes back on them, watching the first vanish into the building.

  "Mitchell has to deal with the soldiers, and he will."

  "You seem confident in his abilities."

  "Why not? He's been dealing with Watson for a while now, and he's still alive."

  Trevor felt his body tensing. He needed to do something to make up for Jason. Something more than watching. Even if it got him killed.

  "Fine. I help you get the Hornet, and then I'm going in there. Deal?"

  "We have orders."

  Trevor smiled. "Colonel Williams made the mistake of telling us a little too much about his Riggers. Like the fact that they didn't always follow orders to the letter."

  "But they got the job done, and we need to as well."

  "I just said we would."

  Trevor scanned the area between then and the gunship. It was resting on its skids perpendicular to them. He could see the pilot's helmet through the clear polycarbonate of the cockpit. They would be watching their sensors, ready to bring the ball turrets to bear on any ground targets they didn't trust.

  "Follow me, don't get out of line. The Hornet has a blind spot we can use to sneak up on it. Most people don't know about it, but most people aren't me."

  He slipped from the alley, moving at an angle to the Hornet, keeping his eyes on the turrets. Any shift in position would signal they had been spotted, and those guns could ground them to meat in milliseconds. He knew from experience the mercenaries weren't taking them too seriously. They were following protocol for Threat Level Two when maybe they should have been rating a Three at least. That would have seen the bird lifting off after dropping its cargo and lending support from the air.

  It wasn't good fortune as much as it was a lack of information. If Watson didn't have full operational power over the outfit he would be able to send commands to get the company here, but without enough pull to declare the military side of the approach. The CO of the operation would be setting protocol based on provided intel, which Watson wasn't likely to over-divulge for the sake of turning a simple sweep into a full-scale operation.

  There was also no reason to doubt that sixteen well-trained soldiers couldn't take out three barely armed fugitives. In fact, putting himself in his opponent's shoes, he wondered if two Hornets and four squads might have been a bit of overkill.

  He smiled, amused with himself. Not for the Riggers. Max, Lyle, Damon and the others were some of the most well-rounded soldiers he had worked with in quite a while. They were more than grunts or special forces. They were people who had a range of experience, from the battlefield to the streets, to the black markets and beyond. And Mitchell? Maybe he didn't always agree with the Marine from the Future's ideas, but the Colonel had a good head on his shoulders, and a ton of experience in the types of war zones he would never see. Because they didn't exist.

  He crouched low, staying close to the buildings for now, taking it slow enough he could be sure the pilot didn't see them. When he reached a thirty-three-degree angle from the tail, he motioned to Katherine and then started sprinting toward the gunship.

  He didn't need to look to see if she were behind him. She was a much faster sprinter than he would ever be, even with the enhancers. She was ahead of him within a few seconds, glancing back as she made her way to the Hornet.

  His eyes shifted, and he noticed the turrets beginning to rotate in their direction.

  "Peregrine," he shouted through the comm channel. "We've been spotted. Peel off."

  "I'm almost there," Katherine replied.

  She was almost there. Shit. The engines on the Hornet were beginning to whine a little louder, the repulsors thumping beneath the hull. The back ramp started to slide closed as the guns came to bear.

  "Frigger was waiting for us," he said, drawing his pistol and opening fire on the ship. He couldn't hurt the shell, and he couldn't reach the pilot. There was only one part that he might be able to damage.

  The guns.

  He emptied his magazine within seconds, squeezing off round after round as the twin-mounted turrets finished moving. He jerked to his left, running across the side of the Hornet as he watched Katherine reach the tail of the ship, leap, and get her hands onto the back of the ramp.

  The Hornet started to rise as it began to fire, the right turret hitting the ground behind it where Katherine was a few seconds earlier, the left peppering the area near Trevor, the slugs only launching from one barrel. He continued running, finding the corner of a building and heading there, throwing himself into it and rolling over as bullets dropped concrete chips onto his head before giving up on that vector. He got his eyes on the Hornet just as it began to turn his direction, floating to the left to get a bead on him.

  Just in time to see Katherine finish pulling herself up into the craft, right before the tail ramp sealed.

  Then he was running again, down the alley to escape the attack he knew was about to come. He was halfway between the streets when the guns started to fire, and he dropped to the ground, hoping the pilot had aimed too high or too far.

  Then he heard cracking glass and felt more concrete falling on him. He looked up to see the bullets striking way too high and then turned back to find the gunship. It stopping shooting as he did, sitting stationary fifty meters off the ground at the corner of the building. He couldn't see into it. He didn't know what was happening.

  Then the back of the Hornet rose, the front of it dipped, and he had a clear view of Katherine sitting in the pilot's seat, wearing the pilot's helmet. She flashed him a thumbs up, which he returned before rushing in the direction the mercenary squads had gone.

  He wanted to tell Mitchell they had gotten him his Hornet in person.

  16

  "Ares, this is Peregrine." Katherine's voice was soft in Mitchell's ear, the tone of it excited and slightly out of breath. "I've got something for you."

  Mitchell smiled. He had been listening over the comm channel and had heard the messages going back and forth between her and Trevor. There had been a moment of uncert
ainty when the pilot of the Hornet had spotted them, and the communications had stopped, but he hadn't doubted their abilities.

  Mitchell wished he could respond to the news, but he was trapped in a moment of silence. His eyes were glued to the camera feed from outside the restroom, where a pair of Blackrock mercenaries were coming down the hallway, checking each of the rooms. They were watching the stairs, and he hadn't come out, so they knew for certain that he was on this floor.

  The question was, where?

  Their movements were crisp but also predictable. Urban warfare tactics were the same today as they would be in the future. The weapons were different, the tech was different, but the concepts were the same. It meant the soldiers would kick open the door and let their helmets do the work, sweeping the room with sensors and giving them instant feedback as to whether or not there was anything threatening inside.

  It was the reason he had chosen the bathroom. The metal stalls would hide his heat signature from outside, and once the two mercs tried to enter? That's what he was waiting for.

  He held the tactical rifle against his shoulder, keeping his eye along the barrel. The weapon's real sight was electronic, meant to interface with the soldier's helmets, leaving Mitchell to do it the old fashioned way with the help of his ARR.

  The door to his stall was open. He was leaning against it, watching the feed. The soldiers had nearly reached him, and he forced himself to breathe slow and easy. He would only get one chance to do this right.

  He put his finger on the trigger as the mercenaries reached his door. They paused for a moment, doing their initial scan, and then one prepared to kick the door while the other moved in behind.