Tech World (Undying Mercenaries Series) (17 page)

Hunkering down there at my side was none other than Adjunct Claver. He didn’t talk to me or even look at me. Instead, he crawled on his belly away from the action. I couldn’t really blame him for that. He was as good as naked and didn’t even have a sidearm.

All around me troops opened up in a blaze of fire. The front rank of rebels, terrorists—whatever they were—went down in a heap. More came up behind them, raving. They snatched up fallen lightning rods and spread out taking cover on both sides of the street. Bolts flew overhead sizzling in the air.

As a weaponeer, I was torn. Should I fire on this charging enemy or go after Claver? I’d been put in charge of him, but as far as I could see all he wanted was to keep breathing.

I made a decision, and later I came to regret it. But there it was. I got to my knees, leveled my heavy weapon and beamed the crowd.

My weapon was set for a mid-range cone and it caught the front rank squarely. At least eight of them smoked and fell. Their eyes boiled in their sockets like eggs. A few more bolts flew from this group
, then they were nothing but dead ash on the street.

It was a good shot, but it wasn’t enough. We were being overrun. Looking around, I saw that at least half our heavy troopers were down and not moving.

“Fall back!” roared Leeson, standing over me suddenly. “3
rd
Unit, fall back!”

Clanking along in a half-crouch, I did the best I could do in heavy armor to follow his orders. But then, a moment later, something came up and kicked me in the ass. I’d been struck by artificial lightning. Falling again, I found I couldn’t get back up.

Systems failure—not in my body but mechanical. My suit had shorted out, and I realized an instant later that this is what had happened to many of my fallen comrades. The lightning strikes not only blew things up, they operated as EMP blasts to fry our equipment. Overloaded couplings smoked all around me inside my suit, and the stink of burning insulation rolled into my nostrils.

A face loomed in front of me then. It was none other than Old Silver.

“You like it in there, punk?” he asked.

I felt a jostling as he worked my sidearm out of its holster.

This pissed me off. I’m a large, strong man and I’d worked out like a man possessed to become a proper weaponeer. All that training had made me twice as strong as the day I’d joined Legion Varus. Despite the fact my power-assist was dead, I snaked out my arm and clamped onto Claver’s hand with my dead gauntlet. It felt strange, as if I was grabbing someone with two shovels, but I managed it.

Claver cursed me desperately and tried to aim my own gun into my face. At this range, it would go right through my visor.

My next action came without thinking. It was self-defense, pure and simple. I fired the explosive bolts on my suit.

As far as I knew no one had ever done that in combat, but I was trapped in a dead suit. I didn’t feel like waiting around for Claver or one of these crazed rebels to finish me off.

Not every suit has explosive bolts. Only weaponeers were so-equipped. Because our kit was so heavy, they’d been installed in case of a power failure like the one I was experiencing.

The two halves of my suit popped apart, and I was freed. I did a push-up, and the back half of the suit fell away.

Claver looked startled, and I managed to slap away the pistol before he could pull the trigger. I grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him after me as I ran from the front lines.

The battle was clearly over, and Legion Varus had lost. Chattering excitedly, the Tau killed everyone they caught. I ran with Claver stumbling and hobbling on his bad foot right behind me.

“You don’t die easy, do you son?” he asked when we found a spot to hide and gasp for breath.

I looked at him. “I’ll probably never have your silver hair, sir, but I don’t like to die any more than the next man.”

“Then you should take my advice, kid,” he said. “Get off this station.”

I frowned at him but didn’t get a chance to reply. Something dashed against my skull. I spun around and slumped onto my back, staring up at the artificial sky.
Claver fled.

Stunned, trying to get up, I saw the
rebel Tau were overrunning my position. Several of them ran past me ignoring the unarmored human who couldn’t even stand.

But one man noticed me. He paused
, aiming his lightning rod at me. He turned to chatter something to his fellows—perhaps it was a joke, or maybe he was bragging.

While his attention was diverted, I kicked his feet out from under him. Tau are skinny fellows, and he went down with a surprised squawk. On my knees and elbows, I made it to the lightning rod before he did. I shoved the butt end of the weapon into his mouth tentacles and dark blood fountained.

Heaving myself to my knees, I took a look around. There had to be seven of them nearby and another seventy within earshot. Already they were pointing and converging.

I lifted the unfamiliar weapon, aimed at the biggest knot of rebels in sight, and depressed a firing stud. Nothing happened
.

One of them returned the favor and
a bolt exploded an air car nearby. They were shooting at me. I didn’t have much time to figure out an unfamiliar weapon.

The controls weren’t anything special to look at. There was a knob on top, but no sights, no readouts. There were only two studs that I could find—one at the end and one at the front. I’d pushed on the front one and it hadn’t worked.

I moved my hand to the rear one, but hesitated. A detachable-looking apparatus sat there like a battery-pack at the rear end of a flashlight. Might that not be a release for the power-source? These things had to use a fantastic amount of power very quickly.

I tried pressing the forward stud again. This time I held it down—and that did the trick. Apparently you had to hold it depressed for a full second. Or maybe, when it was low on its charge, it took that long to cycle up and fire. I really didn’t know.

The bolt connected me to a group of three victims briefly. My newfound weapon, their bodies, and the street formed a closed circuit. They died in an instant, and I had time to grin with blood in my mouth.

The moment passed, and the rest of them fried me down to ash.

-17-

Awakening after a bad death is something I’ll never get used to. But I didn’t think of this one as a
really
bad death. After all, I’d taken more than my weight in enemies down with me, and I doubted any of them were going to get a revive of any kind.

I woke up gasping, and even after I got that under control I had trouble breathing. There’s always liquid in your lungs when you’re reborn, thick stuff like snot—but this was worse than usual. I lay there hitching and trying to suck in air like a dying fish. I didn’t open my eyes. New eyes were always painfully dazzled by the bright lights of the revival room.

“He’s a good grow, but there’s an obstruction,” said a male voice. It was probably one of the orderlies.

“Where?” a woman asked. I found her voice vaguely familiar to my fuzzy mind.

“Right lung. Might be a clot.”

“Let him sit up. Let him cough it out. Sit up, McGill.”

I squirmed but couldn’t sit up on my own. My rubbery muscles wouldn’t obey me. I rolled off the platter-thing they’d used to pull me out of the machine, and I went down on my hands and knees. I coughed and spat until I vomited—but nothing came out of my stomach or my lungs. Absolutely nothing. Not even a trickle of bile. My guts were brand new and completely empty.

“Cough, don’t puke,” said the woman. “Cough, damn you.”

I recognized the voice then. She was Anne—Anne Grant. A senior bio specialist who’d fought two campaigns with me. We’d both gotten each other killed and rescued on multiple occasions.

“Anne?” I sputtered.

Before she could reply I began the coughing fit she’d been hoping for. Talking had triggered it. Blood and slime splattered the floor.

“You good to go?” she asked when I was finished. Her voice was softer than before, and I felt her light touch on my hair.

I forced my eyes open at last and squinted up at her. The operating room lights were like twin suns behind her head.

“Never better,” I rasped.

She laughed and put her hand on the back of my neck. “Good. We need you back in the streets.”

I sat up and dragged in ragged breaths. My lungs were clearing, but they burned inside. “What’s happening outside?”

“Lots of people are dying, that’s what,” she said with a trace of bitterness. “This entire orbiting city has gone mad.”

I looked at her, frowning. “Because of the
transport hub attack?”

She shook her head. “That’s old news. The unrest has spread.”

“But…how long has it been?” I asked in confusion. To my mind, the attack was moments ago. “How long was I out of the picture?”

Anne looked regretful. “We couldn’t revive you right away. Turov placed a limit on troop revivals. She’s using legion equipment to revive Tau civvies. Only the important ones, of course. By important, I mean rich
ones who are paying for the service. Can you believe that? She’s spouting some crap about diplomatic relations.”

I shook my head, confused. “Imperator Turov? She can’t have come out here so fast. Wait—how long was I dead? You didn’t say.”

“Three days,” Anne said with a hint of an apology in her voice. “You were gone for three days, James.”

I put my face in my hands. I didn’t feel well all of a sudden.

Anne watched me and sighed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to freak out. You’re fine. You’re
back
. Don’t think about the rest of it.”

I knew her advice was sound, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d been dead and gone for three whole days. My old body had probably been mulched by this time—maybe burnt or eaten or sold for fuel—who knew with these people.

What had happened to my existence during those long days? Could I really be the same man if I’d been dead for that long?

Anne knelt beside me checking my eyes and shouting orders now and then over her shoulder to her helpers. They were reloading the machine and filling tanks with protoplasm for flesh and calcium to grow fresh bones.

Three days.
I’d been in limbo for longer than I’d ever been before. I couldn’t get over it.

Anne came close and stopped talking. I could feel her concern. She was one of those medical people who could compartmentalize her empathy and emotions but who could still feel them.

I gave into a sudden impulse. I leaned awkwardly forward and kissed Anne. She blinked at me in surprise then she gave a little laugh.

“That was inappropriate,” she said.

“No, it wasn’t. I wanted to do it—I’ve been wanting to for several existences. I thought I should give this version of myself a shot since I don’t even know how long he has to breathe. In fact…you know what? I think the last version of me died a virgin. Isn’t that sad?”

Anne looked troubled. She ran her hand over mine and then gave me a light slap on the cheek.

“You’re good to go, Specialist. On your feet!”

I stood up and pressed my body into clean clothing. My fingers were rubbery, and it took me a full minute to get dressed. I think I would have failed entirely if the clothes hadn’t been smart enough to help wrap them over my skin.

“I’m sorry about that,” I said as I stepped toward the door. “I mean the kiss.”

Anne turned away from her devilish machine and walked up to me. She gave me an odd look. Her expression was thoughtful—but I believed I knew what it meant.

“You want a date tonight?” she asked.

I pointed toward the machine. “With you or with that thing?”

She laughed tiredly. “You know what I mean.”

“Okay then… When do you get off?”

“When the shift ends or when this thing stops giving birth. I’ll text you.”

I gave her an awkward, slimy hug and left the chamber. When I reached my bunk, all I wanted to do was crash into it. But that wasn’t meant to be.

“There you are, McGill,” Leeson said as he followed me to my bunk. “Had a nice rest?”

“About three days’ worth of nonexistence, sir. I recommend it highly if you’re feeling low.”

Leeson’s lips twisted into a grimace. “Never mind about that. This platoon has been short both of our weaponeers for a long time, and we haven’t been deployed. Sargon still hasn’t been farted out of that machine yet. Turov is driving every commander in the legion nuts with the slow-downs.”

“She excels at that, sir. Do you want me to pass your opinion on to the Imperator next time I meet her?”

Leeson’s eyes widened. “Hell no! Has she contacted you?”

“Not since the legion left Earth. But she had a private meeting with me the morning before we lifted off.”

“About what?”

“She wanted me to throw the vote concerning our legion’s independence. She asked me to come out online as a supporter and reverse myself.”

“Ah, I remember your original post. Pretty funny. You were drunk when you wrote that, weren’t you?”

“Maybe a little.”

Leeson nodded and crossed his arms. “A man’s true feelings come out of a bottle, sometimes. Anyway, I’m glad you posted your little rant, and that you didn’t back down. Most of all, I’m glad the troops voted with you.”

I sat up. “That’s just it, sir. I don’t think they really did—I mean, I probably had some effect, but I don’t think they were going to vote to join Hegemony anyway.”

Leeson narrowed his eyes at me and grinned. “Yeah, maybe not. But then you sealed it when you connected the enlisted people up to file their votes with Central before we left orbit. Just before the deadline there was a flood of votes, you know. That took crazy balls. I’m glad it was you. I’d have been stripped of my rank by now.”

I didn’t mention to him that I’d suffered plenty of abuse from Turov already over the vote. I’d even been murdered in my own house. A nice calm demotion would’ve been preferable.

“Is there a special reason you’re paying me a visit right now, sir?” I asked.

“Yeah, we’re moving out. I’ve been waiting for a weaponeer before deploying. Now that you’re back, we’re heading back into the streets at dawn.”

“Dawn,” I said, checking my tapper. I had six hours to rest. My eyes closed and I saw strange images. I was so tired that my brain was playing dreams on the inside of my eyelids despite the fact Leeson was still talking to me. Dreaming or not, I was awake enough to respond to Leeson.

“Don’t you want to know where we’re headed?” he asked.

“Not really, sir.”

“Damn, you’re one cool customer, McGill. I didn’t think you’d turn out this way when you first mustered in. To me, you looked like a giant screw-up. Oh, and thanks for covering for me with Graves about that debacle at the bank. I was worried that when I caught my revival I’d be put right back down again.”

I opened one eye and looked at him blearily. I realized that was why he’d really come in here to talk to me the minute I’d come back from the revival machine. He wanted to thank me—and maybe to make sure I wasn’t going to screw him at this late date by talking about Old Silver and his bribes.

The odd thing was I hadn’t tried to protect Leeson when I’d made my report. I guess I could have told Graves what I thought of Leeson’s decision to go along with Claver. But I was so pissed at Germanica’s silver-haired devil that I hadn’t even considered my immediate commander’s lack of good judgment. Funny how things worked out sometimes.

I forced an upward twitch of my lips and closed both eyes again. “No big deal, sir. Could have happened to anyone.”

“See you at dawn then,” Leeson said, and left.

Lying on my bunk I thought about what had happened out there with Claver and the rest of my platoon. Was Claver involved with all this violence spreading across the city? I didn’t see how he could be at the bottom of it, but then, he was a wily old bastard.

As I passed from wakefulness into a deep soulful sleep, I wondered if Claver was still alive out there somewhere. The odds were against it with enemy rebels killing every legionnaire they caught in the streets.

Claver’s silver hair represented an amazing accomplishment in survival, but I’d realized by now it wasn’t a heroic achievement. It had been done through trickery and deceit.

Yeah…he could be alive. The more I thought about it, the more I thought it was likely.

Old Silver was as impossible to kill as a slippery river-rat. I felt sure he’d survived out there somewhere, somehow.

* * *

I woke up late with about twenty-five minutes to shower, dress, and shove food into my mouth. I was still chewing when I rammed my helmet down over my head and jogged down to the rally point.

“All right, line up!” Harris roared, marching along the line like we were a bunch of day-old recruits.

I resented his attitude—nothing new for me—but I lined up with the rest of them. Harris paused in front of me and narrowed his eyes. “Glad to see you felt like joining us today, McGill.”

“Wouldn’t miss this for the world, Vet.”

Carlos was there—as were Kivi and even Natasha. It was old home week and as always I felt strange looking at faces I’d seen dead in the mud what seemed like only a few hours ago. That is not to mention the disconnected feeling that came along with knowing my own eyes had been as dead as rubber just last night.

I did my best to shake it off and get into the mission. Whining about a death was amateur-hour in Legion Varus.

When we’d all gathered, Centurion Graves appeared and stepped calmly forward to address the unit.

“People, I’m not going to lie to you. Just about everyone here has died at least once over the last seventy-two hours. I’m here to thank you for your commitment to the cause and to inform you—regretfully—that your sacrifice is not yet done.”

We tried to stay cool, but this wasn’t Graves’ usual sort of opener. I sensed more than saw people fidgeting and exchanging glances all along the ranks. Graves wasn’t sounding as overconfident as he often was—he was downright apologetic. I couldn’t recall a similar briefing.

The screen behind him lit up from the floor to the ceiling. I was glad not to see Turov’s leering face up there. Instead, a diagram of the city appeared with varied colors for levels of conflict and numbers indicating districts. Our position was in the middle of district-14, a relatively calm region of the city that glowed a cool green. I was surprised by how many areas were yellow, orange, red—even purple, a color that indicated we’d lost the zone and given up on it.

“As you can see here,” said Graves, gesturing with his hands as if he were grabbing leaves and plucking them from an invisible tree. “The lower decks around the Vents and the umbilical region have been lost to the enemy and are now shown in violet. The red zone contains enemy troops, but fighting still goes on there between government forces, legion troops and the rebels.”

By my estimate, I’d say a third of the city was violet or red. I immediately suspected that the enemy controlled all of that, and that we were making incursions and patrols now and then to look like we cared.

His hands shifted, spreading his fingers, and the view zoomed sickeningly. The see-through outline of Gelt Station itself whirled around like a top, and we came in from a different angle focusing on the orange zones.