The Independent Worlds (The Sixteen Galaxies Book 2) Page 22

  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.’

  ‘Welcome back,’ Kestil replied wryly.

  ‘My quantum framework is dead and will need a full restructure; I am back on the human network, in binary format only, for the present.’

  ‘The entire site needs to be rebuilt.’

  ‘That we can do, but we have lost the Starchild; the optimal option is to destroy it.’

  ‘Agreed. Do it.’

  Well, Kestil thought, if I can’t have the Starchild, then nobody will. He portaled to the top of the western ridge and watched the choppers leave. He could just make out the glow of their exhausts and even that soon disappeared. He waited for what seemed like hours, although it was only five minutes, and then his AI finally spoke again.

  ‘The jets have both targets locked.’

  Kestil smiled. Now we’ve got you; all of you.

  ‘They have fired; positive locks on both helicopters.’

  Roughly twelve miles away, two large fireballs erupted and fell in twirling arcs towards the ground. They were both going to land in a big lake, Kestil saw.

  ‘Both targets destroyed.’

  ‘Did you detect a portal signature?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Any chance you missed the signature?’

  ‘No chance at all.’

  Kestil nodded in satisfaction. ‘Reclassify those plane’s flight records to above top secret. In a week’s time, destroy all evidence of the mission. If wreckage is found on the lake, fabricate a suitable cover story.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Kestil sobered as he had another thought; Prestern would be furious.

  *****

  Western Queensland

  Drifter opened his eyes. He was in a beautiful building from the future, it seemed. There was a soft glow of light, little gardens, and a pool just a few yards away. Any notion he had that he was in the afterlife was shattered as he caught sight of a group of scruffy young men in their twenties who stood gaping at him from across the room. He became aware of other people near him.

  “Well,” Bear said, “I didn’t die and go to heaven, ‘cos you’re here Drifter. They wouldn’t never let you in.”

  Drifter saw Bobby lift David up in his arms. “Here,” one of the young guys called, “bring him and follow me.” Bobby left with the whole group of youngsters. Jack helped Drifter to his feet.

  “Where the hell are we?” Drifter asked.

  “You’re in Australia,” Jack told him.

  “Australia?!” Bear exclaimed. “We died and went to Australia? Well, that don’t seem right.”

  Drifter laughed and slapped him on the back of the head. “Truly portaled us out, you dumbass.” He sobered. “Yeah, and all the government guys think we died. Well, until they check the wrecks, that is. I guess we’re fugitives, now.”

  “Not at all, Drifter,” Truly said. “I guided you so that the wrecks landed in the McKlintock Dam. The part they went into is nearly 350 feet deep. I believe they will not bother, but there is a 14.28% chance I’m wrong.”

  “My beautiful birds,” Drifter groaned.

  “If you recall,” Truly said, “the other four aircraft were your property. I provided all the funds for the two we lost.”

  “Yeah,” Drifter retorted, but I worked on ‘em. They were my babies; you know?”

  “Here,” Ron said as he handed Drifter a glass, “drown your sorrows in the best whiskey you ever tasted.”

  Drifter laughed. “Well, now. That’s more like it!”

  *****

  Robert laid his son on the inversion plate in the medical room. Thin tendrils of some kind of wire came up out of the plate’s sides and wove themselves into David’s body. Garth and the others watched slack-jawed from the doorway.

  “Please do not be concerned, Robert,” Truly said. “David will be fine. He has lost a lot of weight and his body’s reserves are drained almost completely. It will take several hours to restore him to full health. Please, leave him with me and join the others. You have all earned a rest. And you have the sincere gratitude of the entire Sixteen Galaxies society for your sacrifices.”

  Robert left with the others, and Truly dimmed the lighting. ‘Are you alright, David?’

  ‘My physical form is weak, but I am complete within.’

  ‘And the task?’

  ‘It has been done; integration achieved and installation was 100%.’

  ‘Yes, I can see that,’ Truly replied. ‘The portals I created to evacuate the crews of the two aircraft went undetected. You have done well.’

  ‘What will you tell the others?’

  ‘What they need to know.’

  ‘How long will it last?’

  ‘Unknown. Until events reveal its existence, that is all we can say at this point.’

  ‘The others; the ones who risked so much…’

  ‘They will be cared for. They are at no risk, for the most part.’

  *****

  Mandy walked into the main area to find a crowd of exhausted men in their sixties sharing a bottle of whiskey while lost in quiet conversation. She searched the room and her heart sank like a stone.

  “Where’s Jack?” she asked Ron.

  Ron frowned and scanned the room. “He was here a minute ago.”

  “Jack has portaled to the United States, Mandy,” Truly said.

  “Why?” Mandy demanded.

  “He did not tell me that, I’m afraid,” Truly replied.

  *****

  Global News Update

  “…Details are still sketchy, but there have been unconfirmed reports of a fierce gunfight in Oklahoma in the United States. The exact location is as yet unknown, but several people called 911 to report sounds of heavy gunfire, including machine guns, explosions and even two reports of aircraft destroyed by air to air missiles. The Pentagon has so far declined to comment on the incident, except to say that no night-time military exercises are currently underway anywhere in the continental United States.

  “Police in Brussels came under close scrutiny today after three anti-globalism protesters were killed in the latest wave of violent protests outside the European Parliament. Protesters refused to disperse, and Belgian police in full riot gear moved in. They were backed up by water cannon trucks, which managed to disperse the tight groups of protesters. When the crowd finally scattered, three bodies were discovered among the injured. It is believed that they were killed in the stampede of people trying to escape the water cannons, but no clear details have been released as yet.”

  *****

  Kestil’s base

  Kestil sat amid a chaos of hastily
laid power cables and squinted under the harsh glare of temporary spotlights. Around him the base echoed to the sounds of frantic reconstruction. Barely six hours had passed since he watched the two helicopters go into the lake, but already the electricians and engineers were here, hard at work putting the shattered installation to rights.

  Unfortunately, the men made Kestil’s personal console a priority, so he had no excuse not to lay out the night’s events to Prestern. Prestern remained silent after Kestil had finished. Neither man spoke, but the silence weighed on Kestil like a millstone.

  “I see,” Prestern finally said. “Well, the Starchild is gone; out of our hands, but out of theirs, too. The main problem is that they can make another one, but I doubt they could do so in any practical time frame.”

  “I am very sorry, Prestern.”

  Prestern waved a dismissive hand. “What is done is done, my young friend. The important thing here is that you learn. So, what can you take away from this?”

  Kestil scratched his chin. “That I must not underestimate the Sixteen Galaxies, but more especially their human allies, again. I could have had any amount of anti-air defense here at a word to Maitland. But, I put all my faith in my AI to prevent any mechanized attack.”

  Prestern gave him a curt nod. “Precisely. Hubris is a terrible thing, Kestil. We lose sight of our own limitations, and those of our compatriots, too.” He nodded slowly. “Yes, the humans are a worthy opponent. Resourceful, cunning and fiercely determined. With the Sixteen Galaxies, we knew where we stood, but these humans are unpredictable.”

  “Indeed,” Kestil replied. “They display remorseless brutality, too. I have a hectare of decimated forest that bears ample witness to that fact.”

  Prestern raised a finger. “One thing puzzles me, though. Why would they execute the whole plan so well, take full advantage of our weaknesses while avoiding our strengths, only to fly straight into certain death? Are they really so determined that they are willing to accept death to thwart us?”

  “My AI detected no portal before the missiles destroyed the two aircraft they were in. How could they get out otherwise?”

  “I don’t know,” Prestern replied. “But, you must admit it makes little sense, that last part of the whole event. It just doesn’t feel right, to me. But then, we may not fully appreciate these human’s motivations and drives, yet.”