Resistance: The Gathering Storm

CHAPTER TEN Payback Is a Bitch

Near Hot Springs, South Dakota

Wednesday, November 28, 1951

The shimmery blue Stalker crawled crablike up over a rocky ridge. Then, having successfully crossed the barrier, its articulated legs made whine-thud-whine sounds as they spidered down the steep slope toward the ravine below.

Occasional bursts of static, fractured sentences, and the sounds of fighting could be heard over the headphones Hale wore, but there was no way to tell who was winning the battle miles to the east. Two additional machines, both of which had been captured months earlier, followed along behind his.

The notion of using Chimeran vehicles to penetrate the enemy base near Hot Springs, South Dakota, had been Hale’s idea, yet now as he and his team battled the rough terrain, he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of the plan.

The goal had been to surprise the Chimera by arriving in three of their own vehicles—thus avoiding the antiaircraft batteries located on top of the target building. But after hours of tedious cross-country travel, their slow progress was eating up valuable time, and Hale was worried lest he and his team miss the narrow window of opportunity created by Lieutenant Colonel Jack Hawkins and the 5th Ranger Battalion.

Hawkins’s job was to advance up the main highway from Chadron, Nebraska. Then, as the stinks located in and around Hot Springs streamed south to engage the invaders, pre-positioned American troops would sweep in to crush them from both sides. Which was why the attack had been code-named Operation Iron Fist.

Meanwhile, as the battle took place, Hale and his team were supposed to sweep around to the west in an effort to bypass the action. If all went as planned, they would enter Hot Springs unopposed, break into the storage building, and snatch one of the fuel cores before the Chimera could bring a large force back to oppose them.

It was all dependent on good communications and perfect timing. Except that the radio link to Battalion Command was spotty at best, and according to Hale’s wristwatch, the team was running fifteen minutes late. Hale glanced to his right.

Despite the way the Stalker was lurching up, down, and sideways, Dr. Barrie appeared to be completely unruffled.

“I’ve been studying the map,” Barrie said, “and I have a suggestion.”

Hale sent the Stalker sideways to avoid a cluster of boulders, and did his best to sound casual. He still wasn’t entirely clear whether she was his superior, equal, or subordinate. “Yeah?” he said. “What’s that?”

“The top of the next ridge is one of the highest points between us and our objective. Once we hit the top of this slope, let’s park the Stalkers just below the skyline, and take a look. Then if everything looks okay, we’ll commit.”

That made sense. According to his own calculations, and the map-board strapped to his right thigh, they were coming up on the separation point. Beyond that spot, the Stalkers would pass the Rangers off to the east, and be entirely on their own.

A meaningless exercise unless the overall plan was working.

“Okay,” he said. “That makes sense, but only if we can’t reach BatCom, since we’re running fifteen minutes late.”

Hale made two attempts to contact BatCom subsequent to that, received nothing but gibberish in return, and was forced to conclude that the Chimera were jamming Ranger communications. So with no other course open to him, and having found a ledge on which the Stalkers could pause, Hale brought his machine to a halt.

Fortunately the highly localized squad-level frequency that connected him with the other two machines was working fine.

“Echo-Six, to Echo-Five, and Echo-Four… Here’s your chance to take a break. The doctor and I are going to take a look over the ridge. I want one unit manned and ready to fight at all times. So take turns. Do you read? Over.”

“This is Five… Roger that,” Sergeant Marvin Kawecki replied. “Over.”

“This is Four… I read you Five-by-Five,” Corporal Tim Yorba echoed. “Over.”

Five minutes later all three of the Stalkers were parked as Hale opened the hatch and allowed Barrie to precede him. She was wearing trousers, and he couldn’t help but notice how well they fit as she disappeared through the hatch.

Once outside, Hale was pleased to see that the civilian had remembered to take a Bullseye assault rifle with her as she dropped onto one of the machine’s massive legs and jumped to the snow-covered ground. With the exception of Hale’s .44 Magnum pistol, the entire team was equipped with Chimeran weapons because, once they arrived, there wouldn’t be any American ammo lying around to scavenge. And they were likely to need more than they could reasonably carry. Hale was carrying a Marksman rifle as he jumped to the ground. Though manufactured by humans, the weapon was based on Chimeran tech, and chambered to eat enemy ammo. It could fire twenty-one rounds in three-round bursts and was devastatingly accurate.

The moment they left the confines of the Stalker, they could hear the muted sounds of the distant battle as they rolled across the land. Once in position both flopped onto their stomachs and brought binoculars up to their eyes.

The ridge ran southwest to northeast, allowing a clear view of the snow-covered grasslands that lay between them and the north-south highway. A pall of gray smoke hung over the scene, but there were places where the fog was less dense, and the battlefield could be seen. It extended at least a mile to either side of the badly cratered road and was carpeted with the carcasses of burned-out M-12 Sabertooth tanks, smoking Stalkers, and the skeletal remains of Lynx APVs.

And there were bodies, too—thousands of them, representing both sides—which lay in drifts on the bloodied snow. Hale could read the lines of casualties the way a fortune-teller might read a palm. The northernmost line, the one that zigzagged west to east, was comprised of dead Rangers. Judging from the way they lay, like successive waves of flotsam on a beach, they had been the first ones to make contact with a southbound tsunami of Chimera.

The stinks had literally rolled over the Rangers, in some cases stomping their vehicles under enormous feet while they rushed forward to collect what looked like a certain victory.

But as Hale panned his binoculars across the smoke-drifted battlefield, he could see the points where the freaks had been hit from both flanks. The Chimeran bodies were piled high there, where they had been forced in on themselves, and had been slaughtered in the hundreds.

Beyond the field of the dead, the survivors were preparing to continue the carnage. As Hawkins sent his reserves forward, another colossal confrontation was about to take place. American shells arced over the battlefield and threw columns of dirt and snow into the air when they exploded. Heard from a distance, the artillery fire made a low muttering sound.

A squad of gigantic bipedal Titans plodded their way south, launching fireballs as they went. The monstrous aliens seemed immune to the automatic weapons fire that sleeted their way. They were supported by Stalkers, though precious few, since dozens had been destroyed earlier.

Slightly to the rear of the widely spaced Titans, and positioned to defend them from infantry attacks, there was a company-sized force of Ravagers. Their nearly impervious energy shields had been raised to protect both themselves and the horde of Hybrids following along behind. The incoming artillery shells blew holes in their ranks, but those gaps were quickly filled as more stinks came forward.

Suddenly there were Steelheads pushing to the front of the shambling pack, their Augers at the ready, with at least a thousand standard Hybrids close behind. Meanwhile, out along both flanks, dozens of Howlers were visible, dashing this way and that and baying like wolves.

It was a terrifying sight, and from the safety of the ridge, Hale felt a combination of thankfulness and guilt as the Rangers fought back. Tanks targeted the Titans, quickly blowing half of them into bloody hamburger, as LAARK-equipped hit teams rushed in on Lynx APVs to deal death to the Ravagers, all of which were vulnerable from behind. And Hale’s fellow Sentinels were present as well, their uniforms making them distinguishable from the rest as the infantry swept forward to engage the bloodthirsty Hybrids.

Nor were the skies empty as a flight of three Sabre Jets roared in to fire rockets at the Chimeran horde and hose them with cannon fire. Their presence made a difference at first, but was quickly neutralized as two knife-winged enemy fighters appeared and immediately sent one of the American planes spiraling into the ground. The ensuing explosion produced a muted boom, which rolled across the prairie like thunder.

“Damn,” Hale said, lowering his binoculars. “Did you see that? The poor bastard never had a chance.”

“Yes,” Barrie replied bleakly, “and that’s why we need nuclear weapons. Come on. This is our chance to slip past them.” With that she stood and moved back toward the Stalker.

He was impressed by her grim determination as he got up to follow her. Together they slip-slid down the reverse slope to the point where the vehicles were waiting. As they approached he could see Yorba and Pardo on the ground, taking the opportunity to stretch their legs, while Kawecki and Gaines were on standby inside their unit, ready to fight if necessary.

“This is Echo-Six,” Hale said into his lip mike. “Let’s saddle up. We’re going in.”

Yorba spun in his direction, offered a grin and a quick thumbs-up before turning to follow his partner up into the machine that loomed above them. Kawecki signaled his understanding by clicking his mike on and off twice.

Ten minutes later Hale was piloting the Stalker up and over the ridge, watching carefully to make certain an alert Sabre Jet pilot didn’t spot the machines and try to take them out. The last thing they needed was to be attacked by an American plane. But if any of the flyboys were still alive, they had their hands full off to the east, and the Stalkers were able to proceed unimpeded.

Once in the ravine below all he had to do was follow it to the point where it emptied out into a low-cut channel that meandered east. That was the point where he led the other Stalkers up onto a gently rolling prairie and began a high-speed run toward the town of Hot Springs.

“High-speed” being a relative term, because while extremely agile—especially over rough terrain—the Stalkers weren’t very fast. In fact, any tank or APV could outrun the Chimeran machines on a reasonably flat surface. But that couldn’t be helped, so all Hale and his companions could do was grit their teeth as they lurched along, and hope for the best.

Half an hour later they closed with the main highway and began to follow it north. Given the volume of southbound traffic it appeared that the battle was still underway, which was excellent news.

Their situation presented a new danger however, because no one really understood how the Chimeran command structure functioned, and Hale was worried that the equivalent of an officer would take notice of the fact that three Stalkers were headed north, rather than south into the battle, and attempt to turn them around. If that occurred they would have no choice but to fight, thereby attracting all sorts of lethal attention and compromising the mission so many had given their lives to support.

But the Chimera didn’t question such things, or so it appeared, as the Stalkers were permitted to pass through a heavily defended checkpoint approximately one mile outside Hot Springs. Or what was left of the town, since most of it had been reduced to little more than blackened rubble. Almost all the buildings had been gutted by fire, bullet-riddled cars lay every which way, and the only sign of human habitation was the bird-picked remains of a corpse that dangled from a lamppost.

It was a sight that filled Hale with both anger and determination.

“Okay,” Barrie said as she consulted an aerial photo, “take a right here, and follow this street to the main gate.”

As the Stalkers spidered their way along the side street, Hale saw that a strip of land around the Chimeran base had been leveled with heavy machinery, creating a free-fire zone through which attackers would have to pass before they could assault the nine-foot-high metal walls encircling the installation. All of which raised an interesting question.

Who where the Chimera afraid of? Conventional forces like the Rangers to the south? Or resistance fighters like the Freedom First group? The second possibility seemed more likely—since the U.S. forces had been primarily on the defensive until earlier that morning.

“This should be interesting,” Barrie said grimly as the Stalker marched toward a pair of heavy-duty gates.

“That’s one word for it,” Hale agreed as he eyed the towers to either side of the entryway. “Echo-Six to Five and Four… Watch those towers. If they fire, take them out. I’ll take care of the gates. Over.”

There were two double-clicks by way of a response. Moments later Hale felt a profound sense of relief as the huge doors parted and began to rumble in opposite directions. “We’re in!” Barrie said jubilantly, as the Stalker passed through the opening.

“Yeah,” Hale agreed soberly. “But will we be able to get out?”

The question went unanswered as the Stalkers passed through a narrow corridor, took a left, and entered the open area that lay beyond. A scattering of Hybrids could be seen, but no more than fifty, thanks to the battle still raging south of Hot Springs. A watchtower soared above all else, with lesser structures clustered around it, one of which was the storage facility they hoped to enter.

But before they attempted that, there was something else they needed to do.

“This is Echo-Six,” Hale said grimly. “Once we enter the storage complex the Chimera will know we’re here and they’ll come after us with everything they can muster. So before we go after the fuel, let’s do some housecleaning. Every stink you kill will be one less problem to deal with later. I’ll take the towers, while you tidy the grounds. Over.”

Again two sets of clicks as the Stalkers split up and went to work. Kawecki fired first, using his machine gun to mow down a file of unsuspecting ′brids crossing the open area in front of him. The weapon made a loud rattling noise as tracers sought the aliens and tore them apart.

Meanwhile Hale turned his machine to face the nearest tower. It was about fifty feet tall. The top consisted of a reflective metal ball which housed two gang-mounted machine guns that could clearly be brought to bear on aerial or ground targets. It was impossible to see the gunner through the chrome surface, but Hale could imagine a Hybrid ensconced in some sort of powered seat, surveying the area. From the ′brid’s perspective, the Stalkers would have been part of the usual scenery, and of little or no interest.

There was a red reticle on Hale’s heads-up display, and the moment it centered on the top of the tower, he triggered the missile launcher mounted on the left side of the Stalker’s turretlike body. He felt the machine shudder as the weapon took to the air. It paused for a fraction of a second and gave birth to a sub-munition which accelerated toward the target.

There was a flash of light, followed by a muted explosion as the gun turret took a direct hit. The half-blackened gun-ball swiveled toward the Stalker, but didn’t fire, as if the gunner was trying to figure out what to do. Was it taking friendly fire? Or had the attack been intentional? There was no way the ′brid could be sure.

The answer came in the form of a second missile, which blew a hole in the gun-ball, and detonated the ammo within. The secondary explosion blew the top of the tower clean off and left a blackened stump in its place.

Before Hale could enjoy his success, the gunner in the adjacent tower opened fire on his Stalker. Bright green tracers found the machine and converged on it. The Stalker shook madly as Hale sent it crabbing sideways in an effort to escape the incoming fire. Hale knew that if he turned, thereby exposing the back of his machine to the enemy, it would only be a matter of seconds before the incoming slugs tore through the mech’s power core and blew the Stalker apart.

“I’ll operate the turret,” Barrie said as she flipped a cover out of the way and slapped a switch. Hydraulics whined as the turret containing two auto-cannons extended upward and she released her harness.

Hale felt conflicting emotions while she climbed up into the turret above. He was supposed to be in command, but it was difficult to pilot the machine and operate all of the weapons, too, so her willingness to act as gunner was welcome.

Plus it was nice to know that Barrie would fight when the need arose.

Meanwhile, as he took partial cover behind a pumping station, and Barrie poured cannon shells into the second tower, the other Stalkers prowled the Chimeran base, killing anything that moved. Then, having put dozens of Hybrids down, Kawecki and Yorba went after the gun towers on the other side of the base. Their combined fire proved to be more than any one tower could withstand, and it was only a matter of minutes before the rest of the gun-balls were out of action.

As Kawecki and Yorba returned to the area in front of the storage facility, Hale and Barrie won their engagement and were rewarded as the top half of tower two broke free and toppled onto a flat one-story structure, thereby crushing it. A cloud of dust rose, quickly followed by smoke when something caught fire.

“Nice one, Echo-Six,” Kawecki said admiringly. “That was good shooting! Over.”

“Thanks,” Barrie replied. “And Lieutenant Hale deserves some of the credit, too.”

The others were too smart to laugh with their microphones turned on, but Hale knew they were, as he brought the Stalker to a stop in front of the target building.

“This is Six,” Hale said. “It’s time to bail. Don’t forget to bring your gear with you. Place charges on all three machines. Do you read? Over.”

“Roger,” Yorba replied. “I’m going to need ten minutes. Over.”

“The clock is running,” Hale answered as he hit the harness release. “Out.”

One of the reasons Hale had chosen to enter the Chimeran base on the ground rather than by air was the antiaircraft guns located on top of the storage building’s flat roof. But the Stalkers weren’t tall enough to attack the batteries, and the Chimeran guns weren’t set up to fire on ground targets, so a stalemate was in effect.

The Hybrids stationed on the roof could use their Bullseyes and Augers to fire down on the invaders, however, and they hurried to do so, as Yorba went from Stalker to Stalker placing demolition charges on each machine.

So the moment Hale’s boots hit the pavement he was forced to take refuge behind a huge crablike leg and return fire with the Marksman rifle. The idea being not only to kill as many Hybrids as possible, but to force the rest of the stinks to keep their heads down, thereby allowing Yorba to complete his task, without enemy fire to stop him. The rest of the team took cover in the building’s entryway, where the Chimera couldn’t see them.

Not directly anyway, although that didn’t prevent the Hybrids from directing Auger fire down through the intervening structure.

Hale followed suit and began to pick off Hybrids like targets on a rifle range. They were head shots mostly, each of which was marked by a cloud of blood as the high-velocity projectiles flew straight and true. Soon the Chimera drew back, rather than accept more casualties. That allowed Hale to grab his gear, dash across open ground, and join the others as they completed their preparations.

Kawecki was armed with an Auger, while Gaines, Pardo, and Barrie carried Bullseyes. The latter had requested two of the small Reaper carbines as well, which she wore pistol-style in specially designed clamp-holsters.

A choice which, like so many other things having to do with Barrie, left Hale mystified. Were the weapons an affectation? Intended to make her look more dangerous? Or were they the sensible choice for someone who wasn’t very good with a pistol?

There was no clear answer.

“The charges are set, sir,” Yorba said, joining the group. He, too, carried an Auger. “They’ll go off when anything larger than a cocker spaniel passes by. So don’t go back for anything! You’ll be sorry if you do.” He had black hair, brown skin, and a round face, and he was eternally cheerful, which was one of the many things Hale liked about him.

“Good work, Corporal. And thanks for the warning. Okay, let’s get in there, find the fuel core, and get the hell out. Remember, the pick-up point is on the roof, and there’s a whole lot of stinks up there. Corporal Yorba, please feel free to open that door for us.”

Yorba grinned happily, removed what he liked to refer to as a “door knocker” from the satchel at his side, and slapped a wad of plastic explosives onto one of the double doors.

“You’d better move back,” he suggested gleefully, and promptly took his own advice. As soon as he reached an appropriate distance, he turned and gestured.

“Open sesame!” With that, he triggered the charge. There was a sharp bang as the door knocker went off, the right panel sagged, and smoke poured out through the newly created gap.

That was a sufficient invitation for Gaines, who tossed a grenade into the space beyond, and waited for the resulting explosion. It came quickly, after which he gave the bottom of the door a kick. It fell outward, missing him by a matter of inches and landing with a crash.

He was the first inside, with Hale right behind him. Both darted to the side to avoid defensive fire, yet there was no resistance. The lighting was dim—so dim that it was impossible to see the ceiling—and what illumination there was came straight from spots located high above.

The rest joined them in the open area beyond. There were two doorways separated by a twenty-foot-long section of wall. That, according to the plan agreed to back in Nebraska, was the point when Barrie was supposed to assume overall command. And she was quick to do so.

“We’re looking for an elevator, stairs, or a ramp,” she announced confidently. “The fuel cores are probably stored in the lowest level. Let’s go through the left-hand entrance and keep our eyes peeled.”

Hale nodded. “Gaines will take the point, followed by me, Dr. Barrie, Yorba, Pardo, and Kawecki. Be sure to watch our Six, Sergeant… I don’t like surprises.”

“Sir, yes, sir.”

Gaines was six foot six. He had a big head, thin, nearly nonexistent lips, and a pugnacious jaw. Like all Sentinels, he was a good shot, and he possessed an almost spooky ability to spot Chimeran ambushes. Some people credited him with exceptional eyesight, others claimed he could smell the malodorous stink they exuded better than anyone else.

Whatever the reason, he was good at it. And that was all Hale cared about as they proceeded down a corridor flanked by seven-foot-tall transparent tubes. Each cylinder contained a Hybrid. They were hard to see, due to the pearly gas that surrounded them, but judging from a complete lack of activity, they were asleep. Or unconscious. Not that it mattered, so long as they stayed that way.

“I think they were damaged, and are being reconditioned,” Barrie offered. “Although they could be in storage, too… Especially if this is the equivalent of a warehouse.”

Hale hadn’t seen anything like the facility before, but didn’t like the feel of the place, which was eerily silent except for the soft whir of pumps. Some of the tubes were empty, but Hale figured that at least fifty of the life-support chambers were occupied, which equated to one hundred stinks, assuming the next aisle over was home to the same number.

His thoughts were interrupted as Gaines’s voice came through his earplug.

“I see what looks like an elevator up ahead. Over.”

Hale saw that Gaines was correct, and more than that, an open platform was descending from above! Four Hybrids became visible as it cleared the ceiling—some of the surviving AA gunners most likely, sent down to intercept the invaders.

Gaines tagged one of the beasts, sent a burst of projectiles after it, and heard a screech as it went down.

But that gave the stinks time to begin firing back, and Gaines took a hit, which spun him around and dumped him on the floor. Hale and Yorba opened fire, and thanks to the way the Hybrids were bunched up, they were dispatched in a matter of seconds.

“Get control of that elevator!” Hale shouted. “We’re going to need it—and I don’t want any more visitors from above.”

Pardo ran forward to secure the blood-splattered platform as Hale knelt to check on Gaines. The shoulder wound, which would have taken most soldiers out of the fight, had already begun to close.

“You were lucky,” Hale said as he helped the other Sentinel up. “Duck next time.” Gaines grinned.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay,” Hale said as he waved the rest forward. “We’re going down. Stay sharp. There’s no telling what’s waiting for us on the level below.”

Dr. Linda Barrie felt slightly nauseous as she followed Kawecki onto the elevator. Firing auto-cannons at a chromed gun-ball was one thing—but wading through a pile of dead bodies was something else. In part because of the throat-clogging smell, which was like that of rotten meat, and worse than anything she had encountered before. Part of it could be explained by the fact that one of the Hybrids had been eviscerated, but the rest of it was due to the Chimera’s typically rank body odor, which brought new meaning to the sobriquet “stink.”

One of the ′brids gave a convulsive jerk, and was in the process of sitting up when Hale blew its brains out. That was too much for Barrie, who immediately threw up.

There wasn’t much food in her stomach, so the episode was over quickly. She lifted up her head to discover that Hale’s golden eyes were waiting to meet hers.

“Sorry about that,” he said sympathetically. “We’ve all been through it. But they aren’t human. Not anymore. Try to remember that.”

Barrie brought the back of a hand up to wipe the bile off her lips. Was this how Anton felt the day he died? Sick to his stomach, afraid to fail, yet determined to go on?

Yes, Barrie thought, now I know. Hale was correct. Anton was a brave man.

Then there was a whirring noise and the elevator began to drop.

Hale and his men stood with weapons at the ready as the platform dropped down into the level below and came to a smooth stop. Again the light was dim, but when Hale looked out into the room beyond, he could see row after row of sturdy storage units.

“Don’t tell me,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, “let me guess. You want to go shopping.”

Barrie was fully recovered by that time. “Yes,” Barrie replied firmly. “I do. The fuel cores could be anywhere.”

“Roger that,” Hale replied stoically. “Kawecki and Pardo will guard the elevator while the rest of us walk the walk. I’ll be on point, the doctor will fill the two-slot, and Yorba will walk drag. Let’s go.”

Hale’s rifle wasn’t equipped with a light, not normally anyway, but that deficiency had been corrected by the simple expedient of taping a black flashlight to the barrel. So he slid the switch into the on position, and a blob of white light sprang into existence.

Barrie slung the Bullseye across her back so her hands were free to use a small video camera. It had a light of its own, and the two sources of illumination enabled them to examine the objects on the shelves. None of the items on display looked familiar to him until Barrie stopped to examine a chunk of machinery.

Before he could warn her, the insectoid-looking Patrol Drone came to sudden life. All Hale could do was reach out and jerk her backward as the machine fired from inches away. The blast missed, and as the drone wobbled up off the shelf, Gaines put a burst of automatic fire into it. The machine exploded, peppering everyone with tiny bits of shrapnel, all of which stung.

That was when all hell broke loose.

Having been “awoken” by the destruction of a fellow machine, more than a dozen drones came to sudden life and darted into the air. They produced an ominous humming sound which seemed to come from every direction at once, and they fired on the intruders. The blackness made them almost impossible to see as Hale, Gaines, and Yorba fired up at them.

“Take cover!” Hale shouted, launching one of the Marksman’s small semiautonomous drones. “Then we can pick them off.”

Large cargo modules were stored against the adjacent wall, and offered the only alternatives. So as the rifle-launched drone began to fire on its larger counterparts, thereby drawing them away from the humans, Hale led the team across the open area. There were spaces between some of the containers, and a couple were empty, giving the humans a place to hide.

“This is Echo-Five,” Kawecki said over the radio. “Do you want us to stay where we are? Or come a-running? Over.”

“Maintain control of that elevator,” Hale replied as projectiles pinged the modules around him, “but find cover. It won’t be long before they attack you as well. Over.”

Hale heard two clicks as Kawecki acknowledged the order. Yorba was using the heat-activated reticle to find targets and fire through the module he was hiding in. Striking up a rhythm, he began to destroy the drones with machinelike efficiency. Some of them exploded, strobing the big room with momentary light, while others crashed into storage units, cargo modules, and the floor below.

Hale managed to bag a couple of Patrol Drones with well-placed shots from the Marksman. Then the battle was over, and an uncanny silence spread through the room.

Barrie was the first one who crawled out into the open. “Come on,” she said. “I don’t think the cores are stored on this level, but we need to make sure, and the clock is running.”

Hale gestured, and the team followed her over to the vertical storage units, where the inventory continued. It took about ten minutes to check the rest of the shelves and confirm what she had predicted. “The fuel cores are located somewhere else,” she announced. “Probably on a lower level. We need to get back on the elevator.”

Kawecki and Pardo were waiting for them by the time the rest of the group arrived. They gathered together, and Gaines took the controls.

“Check your weapons,” Hale said grimly, as the platform began to drop. “Because if there are a bunch of stinks on the next level down, they sure as hell know we’re coming.”

But once again there were no Chimera waiting to shoot at them. The only illumination came from regularly spaced pools of light, and they could see that this room was quite different from the one above.

The floor consisted of gratings that crisscrossed a large open space. Below them, and located to either side, a maze of large storage chambers could be seen. They were open to each other and filled with what looked like water. Vertical boxes occupied each chamber, some of which were empty, and others of which contained cylindrical objects.

Above the storage chambers a system of rails could be seen, along with the chain hoists that rode them, and could be positioned anywhere in the room.

“This is it!” Barrie said excitedly, as the platform came to a stop. “They store the fuel rods in those water-filled chambers in order to keep them cool.” From what Hale could see, it looked as if the rods came in several different sizes.

Barrie was gone after that, and he had to jog to keep up with the scientist as she hurried out onto one of the walkways. Kawecki and Yorba remained behind to guard the elevator. Gaines and Pardo followed Hale.

“There!” Barrie proclaimed, as she came to a halt. “See the smaller ones? That’s what we want.”

Hale followed her pointing finger down to a section of storage silos and saw that roughly half of them were filled with silvery canisters. Each was about the size of a standard oxygen tank. That meant they were larger than he would have liked, and no doubt heavier as well, which explained the need for chain hoists.

“It’s my guess that the actual fuel rods are about the same diameter as a milk bottle,” Barrie said, “and twice as long. Each canister probably contains three or four of them, all protected by a steel cylinder and at least three inches of shielding. Inside, nestled between them, is some form of neutron absorber. What we need to do is jerk one of them out of there, load it into one of the shipping containers stacked against the far wall, and take it up to the roof.”

Hale met her eyes.

“Is that all? For a minute there I thought the process might get complicated.”

Barrie’s eyes narrowed.

“The clock is running, Hale… Shouldn’t we get going?”

“All right,” he conceded, turning to Gaines. “Go get one of those chain hoists and slide it over here. Pardo, jump down there, and get ready for the hookup.”

“Gotcha, Lieutenant,” Pardo responded as he laid his weapon on the grating. “We’ll jerk that thing outta there in no time at all,” he said confidently.

The Fury lived in the ever present now.

It didn’t think, not the way humans do, nor did it have a need to. Because its purpose was simple—to execute a carefully prescribed set of activities which, when combined with the functions carried out by other Chimera, would enable the virus that had created them all to conquer the planet.

Any planet.

In this circumstance it meant living where the Fury was designed to live, in a body of water that it considered its own, defending it against anything not Chimeran. So when the not-Chimera appeared on the gratings above, the Fury could hear their discordant speech-sounds, and followed them to a point it knew as a unique water-taste.

Stealth came naturally to the Fury and it propelled itself through the water with its flexible tail, making barely a ripple as it swam through the shadowy depths.

The chain hoist ran along a rail, and made a loud rattling sound as Gaines towed it into place. Then, having positioned it directly above Pardo, he lowered a pair of cargo hooks.

Pardo took control of them and bent to make the necessary connections. Gaines, who was watching from above, took hold of the control unit that dangled from the hoist. The moment he touched a delta-shaped button a loud whine was heard, chains rattled again, and the canister began to rise.

Pardo was crouched down, waiting for the canister to clear the surface, when a pincer shot up out of the water to grab his throat. His features contorted, and he made a horrible gargling sound as both hands went to the sinewy arm that held him.

As soon as he saw what was happening, Hale opened fire. Gouts of water jumped into the air as the projectiles sought their target, but the creature was extremely tough. Barrie’s Bullseye was slung across her back, and she couldn’t fire the Reapers without spraying Pardo, so she looked as if she was about to jump down when Hale beat her to it.

The thing was pulling Pardo under by that time, and as Hale landed on the concrete chamber wall, he drew the .44 Magnum in a last-ditch attempt to save the Sentinel. The two-handed grip came naturally but the pistol was still difficult to control due to its massive recoil. He put all six of the explosive rounds into the Chimera’s brown sea lion-sized body.

There was blood in the water, lots of it, as what remained of Pardo floated to the surface. He arrived belly-up, and when Hale saw that the Sentinel’s face was missing, he triggered the revolver’s secondary-fire mode. That detonated all five of the bullets that were buried in the monster’s muscular body and blew it in half. A series of closely overlapping thuds were heard, the water heaved, and chunks of raw meat boiled to the surface.

The kill brought Hale no pleasure as he emptied the revolver’s spent casings into the water, replaced them via one of the two speed loaders that he carried on his belt, and flipped the cylinder closed. The handgun went back into the cross-draw holster.

The canister had cleared the walkway by then, and as Gaines towed it toward the elevator, Barrie knelt on the grating.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly, “but we have to go.”

“Yeah,” Hale replied. “I know.”

Then, as he’d been forced to do so many times before, he had to leave a fallen comrade where he was. Adrift in a cooling tank, his face gone, and no longer recognizable as human.

By the time he and Barrie arrived at the elevator, Kawecki, Yorba, and Gaines had already dropped the canister into a rolling cargo module. It was equipped with both a cradle and clamps to hold the cylinder in place. Once the lid had been closed and secured, all they had to do was transport the module to the roof. And that, based on the earlier battle, was where Hale figured the team would run into trouble.

More than an hour had elapsed, which meant Chimeran reinforcements were on the way, or had already arrived.

So as the elevator began to rise, there was a series of clicks, clacking sounds, and a loud whine as Hale slipped a full magazine into what had been Pardo’s Bullseye. While the Marksman was ideal for some tasks, a free-for-all melee wasn’t one of them.

No sooner had that thought passed though Hale’s mind than he heard a chorus of guttural growls, screeches of rage, and incomprehensible stink-speech, and an army of Hybrids rushed the humans. Someone, or something, had released them from their vertical coffinlike storage tubes, and the air was thick with their rank odor as dozens of the raging beasts surged forward.

Fortunately, none of them was armed, but the strength of their charge was sufficient to instantly put six of the hideous creatures on the platform, where one threw itself at Gaines. The Sentinel fired through the Hybrid’s abdomen, thereby killing the stink immediately behind it in the process, but not before the Chimera managed to sink its fangs into his throat. Bright red blood sprayed the surface of the elevator as Gaines went down, his neck ripped open, his eyes already glassy in death.

Meanwhile, the platform continued to rise and Hale, Kawecki, Yorba, and Barrie poured automatic weapons fire into the ravening horde from point-blank range. The mad chatter of their weapons, combined with the screams of dying Hybrids, created a cacophony of sound.

Having emptied her Bullseye, Barrie drew both Reapers and fired them into the mob. Chimera fell like wheat before a combine, their bodies effectively blocking the beasts behind them while the elevator made its way upward.

Hale lobbed two grenades into the crowd just before it disappeared from sight, heard two slightly muffled explosions, and took pleasure in the knowledge that another half-dozen Chimera were dead.

But then the body-strewn platform delivered the team and their hard-won prize onto the building’s flat roof. The AA batteries were still operational, and even though there were fewer ′brids than there had been before, those that remained began firing on the elevator as soon as it surfaced.

The closest Chimera were only a dozen feet away, and scored hits on both Kawecki and Yorba, but they were unable to put either Sentinel down before being killed themselves. That gave the humans control of one AA gun and the northwest corner of the roof. Though wounded, Kawecki and Yorba were still functional, and already starting to heal as they took cover behind the gun mount and shield.

Hale crouched next to Barrie, and they were protected by the metal cargo box as projectiles continued to slam into it. He put the Bullseye down, and was prepping the Marksman for use when the radio transmission came in. “Hollywood to Echo-Six. We’re inbound from the south. Do you read me? Over.”

The voice was familiar.

“Purvis? Is that you? Over.”

“Who the hell else would they send to retrieve your miserable ass?” the pilot replied. “I’m still on the shit list for making that drop north of Valentine. Over.”

“I’m sorry about that, I really am,” Hale said sincerely. “So how ′bout I buy you and your crew a drink? Or a couple of drinks? Assuming you can pluck us off this roof that is. Over.”

“Consider it done,” Purvis replied confidently. “And it’ll be more than a couple. Over.”

“Don’t bring the Party Girl in yet, though,” Hale advised. “We’ve got some stinks to deal with first—not to mention some AA batteries. Over.”

“Roger that,” Purvis replied. “How’s the neighborhood? Over.”

“Nasty by now,” Hale answered. “Can you give me a couple of gun runs? Over.”

“Your wish is my command,” came the response. “I have two Sabre Jets circling at Angels five. They’d like nothing better than to hose that place down. Over.”

“Just keep them off the building,” Hale replied. “Echo-Six out.”

There was still a single Hybrid located at the southwest corner of the roof. It couldn’t bring the AA gun into play because mechanical stops kept the weapon pointed skyward—but it could plink away at the humans from behind the weapon’s shield. Hale solved the problem by launching a drone toward the stink. It flew over the AA battery, fired down on the ′brid, and killed it.

That ceded control of the entire west end of the roof to the humans as the first Sabre Jet roared in from the south. Rockets jumped off wing rails and sleeted in to hit a group of Steelheads on the ground as they jogged toward the building. Body parts were still cartwheeling through the air when the pilot fired his .50 caliber machine guns. The fighter was equipped with six of the weapons, and the hail of shells carved a path of destruction through the base. The plane was so low that they caught a glimpse of the pilot’s helmeted head as he passed the building.

Meanwhile there were still two antiaircraft cannons operating, and as the stinks turned to watch the jet flash by, one of them brought its AA gun around in an attempt to fire on the Sabre, and exposed his back in the process. Hale saw the Marksman’s reticle flash red, and fired. Blood sprayed the AA gun’s shield as the ′brid slumped forward—and Yorba nailed another Chimera with his Auger. “That’s for Pardo!” Yorba shouted.

Only one AA gun remained as another Sabre Jet made its run across the base. However, the pilot had a Chimeran fighter on his tail and barely managed to get off a flight of rockets before being forced to pull up in a desperate attempt to escape.

It was at that moment that Barrie got up and began to sprint toward the last AA battery, firing all the way.

“No!” Hale shouted and took off after her, but it was too late as a hail of Chimeran projectiles brought her down. That prompted Kawecki and Yorba to fire on the surviving stinks, both of whom ducked.

Hale paused next to Barrie’s body, then pulled a grenade and pitched it in under the gun’s shield. There was a flash of light as both Hybrids were blown apart.

Moments later the Party Girl was there, throwing its shadow over the roof, and Hale scooped Barrie up. She was surprisingly light. There was blood on the front of her shirt and her eyes were open.

“Am I going to die?”

“No,” Hale said firmly, and even though he knew he couldn’t be heard over the roar of the VTOL’s engines, he could tell that she understood.

“You’re a liar, Hale,” she said, as he leaned in close to hear. “All of us are going to die. The only question is when.”

She passed out as medics rushed to take charge of her, and the rest of the survivors entered the plane. Kawecki and Yorba made certain that the box of fuel rods was securely fastened to the D rings set into the deck. They took off seconds later with the port gunner firing like mad as a pair of Titans arrived from the north.

As the Party Girl turned toward the south, Hale knew that the mission had been successful. So why did it feel like a failure? That question, like so many others, went unanswered.