Mechanical (23 page)

Day Five, 70 Pine Street, New York City

Tom was now reviewing the intelligence data he had recorded, making the Serpent's computer display his sensor's recordings on half of his field of vision. Tom held his position inside the shaft, tens of feet above the ground, the claws on his left hand and legs imbedded tightly into the concrete wall of the shaft while he replayed everything he had previously recorded.

            Fear and anger battled inside Tom, and currently anger prevailed. Tom needed answers, and as long as they were stuck there inside the elevator shaft, Tom intended to use the time he had.

            Tom touched his computer screen lightly, making it display a combined sensor-output-replay display as he went from target to target, watching the Financial District buildings carefully, comparing visual data to infrared, radio and magnetic sensor outputs. He might have missed something; perhaps there was something that the sensors had recorded that might show him where the enemy was. Tom's left hand slowly contracted, creating a thin drizzle of white concrete dust that rained down the shaft. To Tom, it seemed that the red anger that smoldered inside him was starting to vent white smoke.

            The enemy was still eluding him!

            "This position is secured. I fired my gun and a Hellfire missile. It will take the enemy time to understand what happened there. The whole service floor was on fire. We'll wait for nightfall and then fall back through the streets. Lieutenant Riley, we're waiting for your input."

            Tom just ignored Captain Emerson. He now replayed the traffic-flow recordings he had made and started going through them, searching for any discernible patterns, or any specific kind of cargo or truck coming or going from any specific building, or any specific type of vehicle. Tom also checked for specific frequency of traffic, whether any place got or sent out more than its share of cargo, vehicles or people.

            Tom was so hot with anger that he had trouble controlling his fingers on the computer's touchscreen. He couldn't remember this ever happening to him before, but this was so frustrating! He could imagine the enemy out there, laughing at him.

            An elevator entrance grated a few stories above them, the sound of its doors being forced opened. Tom looked up and saw a widening beam of bright light entering the dark shaft. Tom closed his sensor recording display and felt his right-hand fingers twitch, anticipating violence. Anger and violence were not reactions Tom was used to but they who interrupted his research would pay.

            "Serpents, ready arms! We're moving out. Weapons are free. Take out any enemy contact in range."

            Captain Emerson slid down the wide elevator shaft and landed on the first floor. He pulled his right arm back, ready to break the elevator door there.

            "Sir, wait. The enemy has most of its people in the lobby and on the first floor," Tom sent through the radio link.

            "Lieutenant Riley?"

            "I—"

            Tom at first tried to fight the red tide of anger that filled him, but then he decided to give in to it. It—it felt good. It felt—fulfilling. It felt …

            "Sir, my observations suggest most of the enemy-controlled people will not notice us. We can move right past them."

            Tom felt all the Serpents look up at him. Above them another elevator door was being forced open.

            "Look Sir, when on the streets, they just go from place to place. They don't talk, sightsee, or even greet anyone else. They will not notice us. Maybe we could go out and hide till night."

            Then I'll have the chance to crack this thing open. I will find the enemy if it’s the last thing I do!

            Captain Emerson was visibly hesitating.

            "Sir, only the motorcycle groups are looking for something, probably for us. If we evade them, we should be all right."

            Captain Emerson still looked up silently at Tom's Serpent.

            "I need a little more time, Sir, and then I'll be able to find the enemy. I know I will. We still have a little more time. We can still fill the mission's objective."

            This seemed to convince the captain.

            "Serpents, follow me! Do not engage without orders. High speed retreat."

            Captain Emerson did not wait for acknowledgments. He leapt up to the elevator door leading to the second story and smashed it open so fast it seemed it was made of paper.

            Ramirez and Sergeant Jebadiah ran out after the captain, and Tom was the last out of the elevator shaft. Tom had to adjust his sensor's sensitivity after the darkness of the shaft, and then he hurried to follow the three Serpents that flew through the building’s corridors.

            According to data on Tom’s computer, the lower stories on the 70 Pine Street tower were supposed to be office space, but Tom saw that this had changed under the enemy's rule. He saw beds and sleeping bags inside the offices. He saw makeshift kitchens with refrigerators, microwave ovens and food stores. He saw makeshift showers with heaps of towels and discarded clothing.

            "The enemy is putting thousands of people inside the towers. They are sleeping here now," Tom sent.

            None of the other Serpents bothered replying, but Tom was an intelligence officer and here was an unrivalled intelligence-gathering opportunity. At least, this is what Tom told himself, trying to ignore the real question that made him mad with anger.

            “No real office equipment. No copying machines or desktops. This is just a barracks now,” Tom sent.

            Even Tom had to admit that letting his Serpent flex its muscles was great after all the skulking around they had been doing for the last twenty-five hours. Tom could feel his power core pulsing strongly inside him. He looked down at the people they passed in the building. Compared to those people, the Serpents were huge and unnaturally lean monsters dwarfing the soft humans whose flesh and puny muscles were no match for the black, spiked, armored killing machines. It was great remembering just how powerful the Serpents really were.

            “Their responses seem abnormal,” Tom sent, a little disappointed. “There should be more panic.”

            The people seemed largely not to care about the four huge monsters who flashed through the place where they lived, knocking down glass and wood doors and, on two occasions, simply running through walls that were in their way.

            In fact, the only fatalities were caused by Ramirez, who swerved out of his way to run through a sedate line of people waiting outside a toilet. The people started moving away, but the Serpent was among them in an instant, claws flashing red. Then the Serpent moved away, rejoining the others and leaving a veritable heap of bodies whose blood slowly dribbled down from walls and ceiling.

            They reached the building’s east-facing wall. Captain Emerson stopped next to a large window, and stared down, pressing his long-fingered hands to the glass.

            “The motorcycle groups are the danger?”

            “Yes, Sir. It seems so.”

            “Serpents, secure the room and the entrance."

            Ramirez and Jebadiah turned to the entrance of the large hall they were in, while Captain Emerson stared intently down at the street below. Tom stood next to the captain, uncertain what the captain intended to do.

            Suddenly the captain moved. He leaned forward and his long legs propelled him straight into the sheet of glass that exploded outwards into the street, splintering into a million shards. The captain dived down, and Tom leaned out to see what the captain was doing.

            Captain Emerson landed on the street thirty feet below them, and the claws on his feet sank down into concrete, creating a spider web of cracks across the flat surface. The captain had timed his descent perfectly. He opened his hands and a large, extended-length E-Series Ford van smashed into him. The captain’s claws skidded on the road for ten or fifteen feet, leaving deep furrows in the concrete and raising a thick dust cloud, but then the captain leaned forward and the van started slowing down, though its engine roared in protest while its wheels squealed, rotating in place without advancing.

            Tom saw cracks developing on the van’s engine grille and bumper, and then the metal bent as the Serpent forced the van to stop. One headlight exploded, and then the other, before the metallic bumper starting coming apart. Black smoke issued from the van’s back as the driver floored the gas pedal trying to push his way forward. Tom saw the captain calmly release one hand and thrust forward. The front window disintegrated, scattering glass shards in all directions, and the captain grabbed the driver, simply pulling him out of the van and tossing him aside.

            Now the van had stopped.

            “Serpents, into the van,” Captain Emerson sent while he still held it in place. Tom jumped down and was quickly followed by Ramirez and Jebadiah, who opened the back door, threw out a load of six large cargo boxes, folded down and entered the van. Captain Emerson folded down and pulled himself into the driver’s seat. Actually, he pulled away the driver’s seat and bent anything in the interior of the van that was in his way. The large Serpent had no problem sitting on the floor and still reaching the steering wheel and the pedals. Of course, he had no problem sitting on the bare metal.

            Less than forty-five seconds after Captain Emerson had leapt out of the tower’s window, the van drove away from 70 Pine Street, one Serpent driving while the other three were safely hidden inside its cargo compartment. The four Serpents together weighed more than eight thousand pounds, which was much more than the van was cleared for, but the van's large five-point-four-liter, sixteen-valve engine really had no trouble coping, though the van rode really low.

            Tom made himself a place in the back of the van and grabbed a composite rack to steady himself.

            “Sir, drive slowly. No one drives fast in Manhattan now.”

            “Roger, Lieutenant Riley. Recommendations?”

            Tom considered. “I don’t think regular drivers will notice you. Avoid motorcycle groups; they are the real danger.”

            “The mission, Lieutenant Riley. Do you have a target position for me?”

            Tom felt his hand start to bend the composite rack out of shape, and he had to try to quell the wave of anger that gripped him again. He did not like being reminded of his failure to get an answer to the most important question he had ever been asked.

            “Not yet, Sir.”

            Captain Emerson did not hesitate. “We’ll retreat to our forward operating base. There, we’ll plan our next moves. Lieutenant Ramirez, guard our rear. Sergeant Jebadiah, ready to fire on any target on my command. We'll maintain cover as long as possible. Fire only on my command.”

            Tom moved back his computer's armor plate and started going through his sensor recordings again, playing them over half of his field of vision.

            Though concentrating on his work, Tom nevertheless was forcibly reminded of their situation from Captain Emerson's constant status updates.

            They drove south for a few hundred yards and had reached Wall Street when Captain Emerson reported a large motorcycle group headed right towards them. Emerson turned to the left and then drove towards FDR Drive. From FDR, it was a drive of two miles to their base, hidden inside a shed on the bank of the East River. Tom looked out of the driver’s broken front window and saw that they were now passing the place where City Bank once was.

Tom looked up to see the four poles that had once flown the bank’s flags in addition to that of the United States. The flags have been removed but the poles remained. What kind of enemy removes flags but doesn’t put his own flag up? What kind of enemy does not have a flag?

They turned left on South Street and now drove sedately to the north, heading towards their base, parallel to FDR Drive.

“Contact,” Captain Emerson sent and Tom glanced ahead. A large group of motorcycle riders was coming towards them. There must have been more than sixty riders, but Captain Emerson continued driving sedately towards them.

“
Las Putas
. Kawasaki Vulcan heavy cruiser riding with scooters.” Ramirez’s  attempt to spit through his radio link was only fair, considering it was through a Serpent, which certainly could not spit.

Even in this situation, getting something personal from Ramirez was unusual. “So, you like motorcycles?” Tom asked.

Ramirez didn’t even look in Tom’s direction before throwing another dirty look at the motorcycle group and returning to his position at the rear of the van.

Captain Emerson slowly made a left turn into Beekman Street and kept driving slowly and peacefully. Driving unnaturally calmly, in fact.

“They are not coming after us,” Jebadiah reported. Tom glanced outside and saw that, where once a few cafes and bars had been located, there was now nothing: just empty building fronts. What does the enemy has against cafes?