Psion Omega (Psion series Book 5) (42 page)

Brickert checked his rearview mirror. “Roger that. I
see them.”

“Blow them all to hell, Bricky.”

“Aye bloody aye.” Brickert took a deep breath and
held it. Far ahead he saw the blockade. The sun was just beginning to peek
above the horizon, but cast no glares yet to blind his vision.

“Enemy snipers have spotted you, Sheep Leader,” one
of the resistance snipers reported from the goose nest. “We’ve got scopes on
him, but put a shield up just in case.”

Three seconds after Brickert followed the sniper’s
advice, his windshield shattered. It startled Brickert enough that he jerked
the steering wheel and cursed.

“You okay, Sheep Leader?” asked Erin Malm, his
second in command.

“Fine, just lost my windshield is all,” he reported
as he blew the rest of the windshield out using three strong hand blasts.

“Sorry about that,” the same sniper said. “We took
him out.”

“Sixty seconds until impact,” Justice told them.
“Maintain your speeds and we’ll do this thing right. Things are gonna get real
wild on the farm.”

Brickert counted down in his head as he turned on
the car’s auto-nav system, locked in his speed, and climbed onto the car’s hood
to protect it from enemy bullets. “Lay down suppressing fire!” he shouted when
CAG agents fired on him.

Behind him, the van pulled to a halt and his team
poured out, firing on targets at the blockade. The convertible sped toward its
end destination while Brickert rode it like some mad surfer.

Six … five …
four
.
A Thirteen aimed a rocket launcher at him, but took a sniper round that tore
apart most of his skull.
Three … Two …
one …

Brickert launched himself high into the air as the
car sped on until it smashed into the blockade and exploded with a thunderous
BOOM
that ripped the air.

“Sheep Blockade destroyed,” he reported as the
concussion from the detonation shoved him backward toward the parked van.
“Sheep Team moving in.”

* * * * *

After clearing the white floor of the Hybrid’s bodies, Jeffie checked
the time on Sammy’s watch.
Twenty-six
minutes
, she realized.
I have
twenty-six minutes to live.

Twenty-six minutes was the length of a cartoon. It
took her that much time to eat lunch. A perfect shower lasted about that long.
Was that really all the time she had left? Because it wasn’t enough.

Keep it together
, she told
herself.
Keep it together for Sammy.

The stench in the white room was so thick and
noxious that she didn’t want to breathe. They had piled the bodies in the
elevator shaft. The dead filled the entire pit space and halfway up the area
the elevator would normally occupy. Vitoria’s body went in last. Jeffie could
tell by Sammy’s face that he was going to lose it again if she didn’t do
something, so she hugged him and whispered that Vitoria was okay, that she
wasn’t hurting anymore. In the back of her mind were four other words that she
didn’t want to say or think, but they stuck in her brain:
You’ll see her soon.

Sammy sat on the floor in the back of the room. It
was the only clean place left because so few Thirteens and Hybrids had died in
that area.

“How much battery is left?” she asked him.

Sammy glanced at the holo-projectors wearily.
“Twenty percent.”

“Do you still think she’s com—”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.” Sammy turned his eyes on her. “She’ll
come, Jeffie. She’s probably on her way now.”

Jeffie could tell he wasn’t going to say more, so
she put her hand on the top of his head and turned it until their foreheads
touched. “What do you think our lives would have been like if there hadn’t been
a war?”

Sammy sniffed and with a heavy voice said, “I have
no idea.”

Jeffie closed her eyes and tried to pretend. She
wanted to see something beautiful before she died, not blood and guts staining
the walls and floor. “I would have had kids. Three. How many children did you
want?”

“I—I—Jeffie, why are you—”

She gripped his wrist. “Please, Sammy. Just for a
minute.”

“I—I guess about four. Or five.”

“Okay, so we’d have four.” Him playing along helped
her more than she could ever say. It let her soul fly away with her
imagination. For a moment, she was gone from Rio, from the underground, and
from the blood. “I’d have one more child … for you.”

Sammy snorted, and it made her giggle. “For me?
Why?”

“Because I love you.”

Sammy looked at her and then looked away, lifting
the screen of his zero suit off his face so he could wipe the sweat and blood
from his eyes and nose.
Please say it,
Sammy. Please. I just want to hear it once.

“I always wanted to live near the water,” he said.
“Maybe on an island. I don’t know. At least on the beach.”

“That sounds lovely.”

“Lovely …” Sammy repeated. “That’s a word old women
say.”

Jeffie tried to smile but her muscles wouldn’t work.
“You could be a professor. Put on a sweater every day. Have one of those
pipes.” The thought of that made her giggle. “And teach at a college—a
college on the coast.”

“What would I teach?”

She stroked his cheek. “Whatever you want. And at
night we’d put the kids in bed and play a game or read a book. I’d put my feet
on your lap and read until I couldn’t stand it anymore. Until I’d have to kiss
you. And then we’d make love whenever … wherever we wanted.”

Sammy looked like he was about to cry, but instead
he laughed. Jeffie didn’t know how he did it. “I’m gonna die a virgin. When I
was in therapy in Wichita, I told Dr. Vogt that I didn’t want to die
without—you know.”

“I’m sorry, Sammy.” Jeffie found herself again on
the verge of tears, but refused to do it. She couldn’t cry.

“Don’t apologize. I wasn’t ready. I’m still not.”

She grinned grimly. “How about now? Here?”

They both laughed. Then Jeffie heard a moan come
from the elevator shaft. A Hybrid. Before Sammy could move, she hopped up,
winced at the pain from her bad knee, and put a bullet in the Hybrid’s head.
Satisfied he was dead, she hobbled back to Sammy and sat down.

“
What do you think is happening up there? I hope it
’
s working. I don
’
t
—
don
’
t want it to be for
nothing.
”

Jeffie rested her head on Sammy
’
s shoulder.
“
Are you ready?
”
he asked her.

Jeffie only sighed.
“
No, not really. But I
can
’
t
say that, can I?
”

Sammy stroked her hair and kissed
her forehead.

“
I
’
m sorry,
”
she said.
“
I
’
m fine
…
I promise.
”

“
I know you are.
”

“
I
’
m ready
—
really, I
’
m ready.
”
Something wet
tricked down her face, a tear or someone
’
s blood. She wiped it away.
“
How much time do we
have?
”

“
Twenty minutes.
”

“How are you so calm?”

He leaned in and whispered in her
ear.
“
I
’
m terrified.
”

Jeffie hugged him fiercely.
“
I don
’
t want to die.
”

“
Shh,
”
Sammy said. He took her hands and
locked eyes with her.
“
Jeffie,
it
’
s
okay. You can go. You don
’
t
have to do this.
”

“I do.”

“I can do it by myself. If I just use it—”

“
We can
’
t risk failure!
”
Jeffie shouted. She
didn
’
t
know why she was so opposed to it. In a way, it didn
’
t even matter if
Sammy used his Anomaly Thirteen. But at the same time, it seemed to matter more
than anything.
“
Two
of us increases the odds by
—”

Sammy let her go.
“
I know all that. I
’
m just saying
…”

“
Then stop
saying
.
I
’
m
all right.
”

“
Okay.
”

“Are you, though? Remember your promise, Sammy.”

One of the rappelling descenders made a whirring
noise as it shot back up the elevator cable. Jeffie jerk her head toward the
elevator.
Someone’s coming.

“This is it.” Sammy said.

Jeffie
’
s hands started to
tremble, so she squeezed them tightly to make it stop.
“
You promise you won
’
t use it?
”

Her question irritated him.
“
Yes, I still promise.
”

Sammy helped Jeffie to her feet. Tears welled up in
her eyes but she pretended they weren’t there. She checked the time on Sammy’s
com as he inspected the holo-projectors.
Eighteen
minutes
…

Sammy’s face paled as he looked at her shoulder.

“What?” she asked.

“Your zero suit has another hole.”

Jeffie’s feet went numb. “And you
’ve already used
the last patch.”

Tuesday, November 11, 2087

EVEN AS THE blockade shattered in a flurry of fire and stone, other
explosions echoed in the distance. The nearest blockades were only two or three
kilometers away. Atmo-cruisers arrived overhead, NWG and CAG, battling it out
in the sky. The CAG intended to provide air coverage for the blockades and drop
missiles on crowds, so the NWG’s job was to keep them occupied. Brickert’s team
used the van for cover as the CAG agents in the ruins of the blockade tried to
prevent them from crossing deeper into the battle zone.

Geese—friendly snipers on the
rooftops—gave regular reports of where Brickert needed to direct his
team’s attack while they picked off soldiers. Their efforts allowed Brickert’s
team to slowly advance into the rubble his car had caused. The smell of melted
slag and concrete stung Brickert’s nose along with the scent of charred flesh.
Brickert directed his team to break into four groups of three and fan out using
the snipers’ intel to press the enemy from advantageous angles.

“Tanks are closing in on Horse Team’s location,” one
of the geese reported. “Horse Team still hasn’t breached the blockade.”

“Pig Team taking heavy fire,” a second goose said.
“Multiple casualties.”

Brickert’s breath caught. Pig Team was Natalia’s,
located about a half kilometer to the southeast. Horse Team was Justice’s,
located a similar distance away, but in the opposite direction. Justice’s
blockade was one of the most important to remove because it gave marchers a
direct path south to the White House.
Natalia
or Justice?
Helping one might mean the death of the other.

“Sheep Team,” he called out, “secure the area,
eliminate all targets, and proceed to Horse Team’s location at double speed.”

All buildings in the area were locked and barred on
government orders, forcing Brickert’s team to use the streets and alleys to
sniff out the most clear paths to get behind the blockade that Justice’s team
had failed to break.

A group of Aegis fired at Sheep Team as they made
their way down K Street to 16
^th
. Brickert reported them to the
geese. “We’ve got our hands full with our own problems,” one sniper responded.

Think, Brickert
, he told
himself.
What would Sammy do?

Sammy’s a
leader. I’m not
.

Brickert shoved those thoughts away and looked
around for some way to get a jump on the Aegis. That was what Sammy liked to
do: confuse the enemy with a barrage of movement and attacks until their
frustrations overcame their defense.
But
I’m not Sammy. I can’t do the things he does.

Brickert scouted the block ahead for a spot that
provided cover. He saw a large pile of cars in the middle of what was left of
Franklin Square. The trees in the square had been leveled, the area filled with
debris, vehicles, and turrets for gunmen, but there didn’t seem to be any guns
in their vicinity. Most of the drones had been planted on the blockades facing
north.

“Squad D,” he said, “move ahead up to that car pile.
Squad A, B, and C will provide cover. All four squads will leapfrog across the
square until we reach 16
^th
. Keep eyes out for enemy soldiers.”

As instructed, Squad D went first, while Malm’s B
Squad and Brickert’s A Squad provided suppressing fire at the Aegis. When the
Aegis saw D Squad moving, one of them lobbed a grenade. Brickert shot several
rapid blasts at the grenade until one connected and sent it back at them. Several
shouts came from the Aegis’ vicinity as the grenade went off, scattering them
like roaches. Brickert and Malm’s squad picked off as many as they could.

Above Brickert’s team, two CAG cruisers chased and
fired on an NWG cruiser. The roar of their engines rang Brickert’s head like a
bell. The heavy machine guns of one of the CAG’s ships sprayed bullets at
Brickert’s team as it passed.

“Take cover!” Brickert shouted, though he doubted he
could be heard over the booming engines. Debris and dirt splashed like water
with each bullet’s impact, as his team dove for protection. Malm got caught in
the path of the gunfire. The bullets tore into her and threw her into the side
of a car.

Brickert led his squad to her position as he
reported their situation to the geese. When he reached Malm, he knew at once
she wasn’t going to make it. Her hands quaked as she reached into her pocket
and removed a slip of paper from above her breast. Blood smeared across it as
she handed it to Brickert. It was a picture of herself, her husband, and two
boys. “Make sure I … get home. And finish this.”

Brickert nodded and put the picture in his own
pocket. “I will.”

Malm closed her eyes. Brickert tagged her location
on GPS and requested a medic and evacuation as soon as possible.

A goose spoke over the com. “Sheep Leader, we still
need you at Horse’s location ASAP. How far are you from his signal?”

“On our way.” Brickert barked orders to his squads
and led them further west past Franklin Square to McPherson Square.

McPherson was about half the size of Franklin and
had almost no debris to be found. Gun turrets had been erected on the north
side facing K Street, and another line of defenses had been built along H
Street to the south, but in between very little stood in Brickert’s way. He
sent Squad C across first, ordering them to move with caution to draw out enemy
positions. The three other squads followed behind, eyes open for signs of
movement or fire.

Two seconds later an explosion filled the square
with smoke and dirt as half of Squad C was obliterated. “Fall back!” he ordered
Squad C. “Proximity mines! Fall back!”

Only one of the three members of C made it. Brickert
called in more casualties. “Stay behind me,” he told his team. “We’ve got to
punch through whether we like it or not. I’ll sprint across with my blasts on
the ground to set off any more bombs. Give me cover on both sides and the rear,
but don’t stray far from where I walk!”

Brickert led his team across the square with hand
blasts directed at the grass. Three more mines went off before they reached the
opposite block. Once they’d reached the blockade, Brickert asked the geese
where he was needed. “You’re going to have to hit the blockade from the east.
They’ve got a tank directly south firing rockets and artillery over the
blockade. Take out the tank, if you can.”

“Any report on Pig Team?” Brickert asked.

“Haven’t heard a word from them in about ten
minutes.”

Brickert wished he hadn’t asked. Cruisers soared
overhead, chasing one another back and forth through the air. Their engines
roared like dragons and spat bullets of fire. One of the CAG ships took a bad
hit and plummeted into the buildings west of the blockade on 16
^th
Street. Dust and debris flew through the air, pelting Brickert’s team and
sending them for cover.

“Goose Nest, this is Sheep Leader,” Brickert shouted
into his com. “Can we get air support for that tank? It’s hell down here!”

“The eagles have their hands full,” the bird
reported. “Hawks are all over the place, outnumbering our birds at least three
to one.”

“We can’t even spare one?”

“Do your job, Sheep Leader.”

I am not a
leader!
Brickert almost screamed back. For one brief instant, he wanted to
chuck his com as far as possible and then just run—run from the
battlefield and never look back. But he fought down the insanity and forced
himself to focus for his team’s sake. He couldn’t help Natalia until he got
Justice’s squad out of its jam. After taking the briefest of moments to collect
his cool, Brickert checked the time.

0724.

Sammy would activate the kill code in thirty-six
minutes. Then the nightmare would end.
But
in the meantime, how am I supposed to take out a tank?

* * * * *

Gunfire. Commander Byron was so tired of gunfire. He’d heard enough
for three lifetimes.
Twenty minutes
,
he told himself,
assuming Sammy sends the
signal out on time
. Twenty minutes. He could stay alive for that long.

The Hybrids sent waves of revulsion through his gut.
At some point in the last couple of years, he had started to think of Samuel as
a second son. He guessed it probably began when he had ventured to Rio and
found the tiny bunker Samuel had lived in for weeks, hiding from the CAG.
Seeing Samuel’s face on these Hybrids filled him with a sense of rage such as
he had rarely known.

All Commander Byron could do was send out wide hand
blasts to keep the Hybrids in the elevator shaft, filling the space between him
and them with an invisible wall. The ten Hybrids blasted, shot, and beat at his
blasts with all their Anomaly Thirteen-filled fury, searching for cracks in
Byron’s defense so they could push forward, blast up, attack their way out.

It didn’t take long for them to learn that when a
few of them blasted together, they could push him backward. First they would
jump blast, then hand blast, timing their jumps and blasts in unison. From
there they quickly shoved him far enough back that they had room to climb out
of the shaft. Byron waited until the Hybrids were grouped together, then he
raised his left leg, aimed his heel at the group, and said, “Fire left rocket.”

His bionic foot erupted in flame and flew into the
shaft, detonating in fire and smoke around the Hybrids. Some of them saved
themselves with blasts, others died. Byron counted four among the dead. The
clamps that had attached to his bionic foot now flared outward to form a stubby
sort of paw but left him with a significant limp.

The remaining Hybrids forced him back again and
gained footing on the white floor. The commander crouched and blasted at them
high and low, retreating and keeping his blasts up to offer protection and
offense at the same time. The Hybrids shielded and shot at him. His right hand
itched for his syshée, but he didn’t dare—not with five guns pointing
back at him.

I am not
useless. I am not worthless. People are depending on me
.

“System report,” he ordered the computer.

“All systems activated,” the computer responded.
“Awaiting command.”

“Status of network report,” the commander said next.

“Network connected but inactive.”

This did not surprise Commander Byron. The network
would not be active until Samuel or Jeffie stood next to the computer and held
the standby button down. The standby button alerted the other station via a
green light that the user had entered the kill code into the terminal and was
ready to activate it. If the light was green, the network became active. If the
light stayed red, the network was only connected.

Two Hybrids tried to flank him, one on each side.
Byron gave up more ground, but was running out of room. His arms were stiff and
his injured leg protested at each step.
Come
on, you old man. This is what you were born to do
.

The anesthesia was starting to wear off, and he had
no time to give himself more.
Grin and
bear it.

In his mind’s eye he saw a smiling, chubby face,
sickly green-brown hair, back and arms covered in tattoos.
Emily.

Byron couldn’t think of her right now.
Need to focus
.
Too much on the line.

Bullets and shrapnel bounced off his shields, but
the Hybrids were getting more and more creative in their efforts to work around
them. Commander Byron struggled to keep up. Sweat poured down his face, and a
stitch in his side was slowly turning into yet another ache.

One Hybrid moved too quickly on Byron’s left. The
commander tried to turn but nearly stumbled on his stump of a foot. The Hybrid
fired a jigger at Byron’s head, narrowly missing. A second Hybrid slipped
around his right and shot Byron in the hip. Byron grunted and fell.

More shots came, this time from behind. One Hybrid
took a bullet to the neck, the other in the shoulder. Byron got his shields up
just in time to block two hand cannons. He raised his right foot. “Fire right
rocket.”

The Hybrids scattered so fast that the rocket killed
only one of them. Another, however, took a bullet in the stomach during the
confusion. Next thing Byron knew, Albert was kneeling next to him. They blasted
together, their shields forming an all but impenetrable wall of energy.

“You don’t look so
good, Dad.” Black crusty blood covered Albert’s pale face and his left eye
drooped.

“Worry about them,
not me. How much time?”

“Five minutes.”

Byron winced from the sharp pain in his hip. Three
hundred seconds.
I can make it that long
.

* * * * *

He’s weak. Bleeding. Tired.

The Queen saw the pile of dead bodies as she rode
the elevator cable from the penthouse to the underground. Her body tingled as
she flew through the air, her hair whipping her face. Sammy hadn’t activated
the solution yet. She still had time to prevent disaster. Her weapon of choice
was a new mini-blitzer, better than the prototype she’d used in her first
encounter with Sammy at Baikonur. It used smaller superheated discs, which
allowed her to carry more rounds per cartridge and heated up the discs at a
faster rate. Her goal was to put one disc in both of Sammy’s eyes. First the
left, then the right.