CHAPTER 21
Hell’s Cross, Outpost Fisher Four
ANNOS MARTIS 238. 4. 0. 00:00
The corridor from Bedlam is the longest of the four from Hell’s Cross. It leads to a rise, the same one we came down when we entered the Cross the first time. The miners have blocked the main route, strategically closing the tunnels and shafts using C-42. We pass through an open iron gate made of vertical shafts topped with sharp barbs. They look like spears. On the deck the wind picks up, blowing my hair in my face. I pull my cowling up and stuff my hair underneath.
“Watch for rust!’ I call ahead because here, halfway across Bedlam, the steel beam supports and bare rebar of a crumbling viaduct are the only things to walk on. Who knows if the metal still has enough integrity to hold our weight? Vienne has point, but she’s not the one I’m worried about. It’s Jenkins, with his heavy boots and clumsy feet. “And watch your footing!”
My voice is lost in the wind, which both whistles and rumbles, an effect of the squat concrete buildings and the cavern roof above us. To my left, the quick-pour construction is already failing. The buildings that once held, according to the dilapidated signs, the Orthocrats’ Ministry of Weights and Balances is a crumbling pile of concrete and rebar, all sliding onto the rail bed.
Ahead, Vienne raises a hand, the signal for us to stop. I see why. The middle of viaduct has collapsed, and only a few planks tossed haphazardly across the span connect the two parts. We cross quickly, except for Jenkins, who seems to have other phobias beside darkness.
“I’m afraid of heights,” he says, his knees shaking as he takes baby steps up to the planking.
“Come on, you great git,” Fuse says, and tries to drag him across.
“No!” he says. “I’m not doing it.”
“Okay,” I say, and start walking away. “Stay here.”
After a few seconds he calls, “Wait!” Then charges past me, cheeks puffy with held breath, eyes locked on the far side.
“Piece of work, that one is,” Fuse says ruefully, and jogs ahead.
At the end of the viaduct, we enter a building made of marble, not concrete. High, buttressed ceilings, Doric columns, and a roof with a massive hole in the middle of it. Whoever built this mini palace wanted it to be special. We pass through a vestibule to a ballroom that is at least fifty meters across, but it’s littered with fallen columns, huge chunks of marble, and a thick layer of dust. In the middle is a dried-up fountain with a dais for a shattered statue. Only the ankles remain. Dirt-colored molds grow in every crack, corner, and crevice. Just being in here makes me feel like a relic.
Inside, the air is so still, I can hear everyone breathing, the sound of our footsteps echoes all around, and Mimi’s voice when she says, “Alert! I’m picking up biosignatures approaching from twelve o’clock.”
Which means the far side of the room. There must be another entrance.
“Here they come! Spread out!” I whisper. “Take cover! Vienne, take the point. Check the far entrance.”
“Affirmative.” Crouching, she runs to the far side. Slips out of view. But I know she’s safe because Mimi is tracking her.
With trained precision, the other Regulators move into position behind the columns. I move into position myself, near the fountain in the middle of the room, where a high circular basin gives good cover. áine follows on my heels. I signal her to back out of the room. “Get back to the viaduct!” I whisper.
“No,” she protests. “I want to shoot the damned cannibal rooters myself!”
“You’ve got no weapon and no armor,” I say. “Just one stray bullet can take you out.”
She eyes the armalite on my back. “Lend me yours.”
“Not unless you’d like your arms blown off.”
Before áine can argue, Vienne pings me to open a vid link. “I mark seven targets, chief. On foot. Carrying plasma weapons, metal plate armor. In pursuit of three targets. They’re Dr?u, confirmed.”
“The three targets they’re pursuing?” I ask.
“A thin man, an older woman with a blue face, and a girl. The man and woman are running—strike that, crawling—for their lives. The girl is jogging backward. Laying down suppressing fire with an armalite. They’re heading this way.”
Armalite? “Ebi Bramimonde?” I ask Mimi.
“And her mother,” Mimi adds.
“What’re they doing here?
“Fleeing from the Dr?u,” Mimi says.
“You think?”
“The evidence is as plain as the pimple on your cute little—”
Smart aleck. I grab áine by the wrist. “Out! Now! This zone is about to get hot!”
“But—”
“No buts! Move!”
For a second, she considers arguing, but the look on my face must be carking fierce because she starts bubbling up and takes off for the exit.
“Hope I wasn’t too harsh.”
“Bullet wounds are harsh, cowboy.”
True, but bullets don’t have to answer for their actions.
“Vienne, fall back. Take a firing position so you can cover the friendlies. We’ll take out the Dr?u.”
The Bramimondes crash into the ballroom, the Dame’s screams filling the space. She’s pulling the man along but stumbling over him, out of her mind with fear, her chalk-painted face freakishly luminescent in the half darkness. Ebi follows them, expertly laying down suppressing fire in a figure-eight pattern. She steps behind the entryway, tosses a stun grenade at her pursuers, and calmly reloads a new clip of ammo.
“Hurry, Mother,” she says. “I cannot hold them much longer.”
“I am hurrying,” the Dame shrieks, now dragging the man by the arm. “Do I not look like I am hurrying? Is this the face of a woman talking a leisurely stroll on the Meridian Sea?”
“More like the face of an asphyxiated harpy,” Mimi says.
“Now be nice,” I say. “To the harpies.”
Once the stunner effect wears off, the Dr?u mass like a pack of scavengers at the doorway shouting and screeching, their snoutlike faces streaked with blood and dirt, their body armor rattling. Our sights are trained on them, ready to make gut hash, when the Dr?u taking point suddenly stops. He takes a sniff of air and shouts a word I can’t understand.
Good time to act. “Vienne! Lay down smoke! Give the friendlies some cover.”
“Affirmative.” She chambers a smoke grenade and steps out into the clear for launch. The grenade sails over Ebi’s head and lands a few meters ahead of the pursuit. The ballroom fills with acid blue smoke, and we hear a scream as one of the Dr?u takes a round from Ebi’s armalite.
“Make that six pursuers now.” I press the aural link, wince from the prickling sensation behind my eye, and bark orders to Fuse. “Three friendlies passing by me, closing on your position. Meet and greet only. Do not fire.”
“Yes, chief. Meet and greet,” Fuse says.
“Jenkins,” I say. “Move up past me. Concentrate your fire on the entryways. Take out the Dr?u.”
He passes us. Kneels behind a fallen column. “What entryway? I don’t see nothing but smoke.”
“Shoot the smoke then.” If he gets lucky, he might hit something.
Fuse interrupts, “And Jenks? Don’t shoot at the friendlies this time.”
“That wasn’t my fault!” Jenkins protests. “I said I was sorry!”
I break the connection an instant before bullets shower the entryway. Jenkins lays down his own textbook figure-eight pattern. So much for his whining about low visibility.
The bullets find their targets, too. The screams of the Dr?u ring out over the clatter of spent shells falling to the marble floor. The sound quickens my pulse and chills my blood.
“Get ready to move,” I tell Vienne.
“On your mark, chief.”
The fire from Jenkins’s gun stops, which means that he’s reloading. Hope he doesn’t waste bullets, I think, and make a mental to note to have Fuse hide the rest of the ammo for when we really need it. The smoke clears. The noise dies. Crouched behind the empty fountain, I wait for the Dr?u to show their hand. Ponder and deliberate before you make a move.
For a few moments it seems like the firefight is over. I instruct Fuse to help the Bramimondes to get their wounded man to safety, send Vienne and Jenkins back out to the viaduct, and then I move back to cover our exit. If we get lucky, we’ll get through this extraction with no casualties while doing a little damage to the enemy.
Then the sound of a child’s voice drifts up to me.
“Jenkins?” A sandy-haired girl appears in the vestibule. Dressed in a pair of floppy overalls with the cuffs rolled up. Calling for Jenkins to come out. “Are you playing hide-and-seek? I want to play, too.”
How did she get here? I turn and try to wave her away, but she takes that to mean come forward. She starts winding her way through the debris, coming toward me, calling out, even as I wave like a madman, not speaking for fear of drawing fire.
From the clearing smoke, I see the line of a laser site searching for a target. Be quiet, I think, trying to will the girl to be silent. Don’t give away your position. For a few seconds she is silent. Then the dot of a laser sight dances across her face.
“Ow,” she says, and covers her eyes. “That hurt me.”
Oh damn. Move! In the time it takes for the little girl to utter a sob, I’m jumping over a shattered column, only a few meters away from her, holding my breath and trying to get to her before the shooter pulls the trigger. I don’t look. Don’t look at the Dr?u. Don’t look at the kid.
My heart stops as I grab her and roll to protect her, my back hitting the floor and then sliding three meters, stopping only when my skull cracks into the wall. A cloud of dust rises around me.
I start to stand. See the laser sight on my chest. Then wrap the girl in my arms and turn away from the Dr?u as he opens fire.
Brppt! The three-burst rounds sting my back. Reflexively, my spine arches, and I let out a howling scream, even as Mimi solidifies the fabric, sending the bullet ricocheting in all directions. Shielded by my body, the little girl doesn’t realize that I’m protecting her. My scream is terrible, and she scrambles back away from me.
No, you don’t, kid.
With bullets still striking me, I scoop her up, pull her tight against my chest, arms pinned within mine. Carry her to the safety of the vestibule.
The bullets stop. The Dr?u shooter is reloading. I have three point six seconds—the length of time it takes to drop a spent clip, pull a full one from an ammo belt, and jam it into the magazine well. I scoop up the little girl and run through the vestibule. Outside, Jenkins and Vienne are taking position past the viaduct, and I know that there’s no way I can make the length of bridge before the Dr?u spot me.
Stairs.
To the right.
My boots clanking on the metal steps, I carry her down to the rail bed, where I spot a rusty door leading to the basement. I kick it open and slide the girl inside.
“Stay here,” I fuss at her. “And don’t come out again. For anything.”
She’s already on the brink of tears, and the gruffness in my voice sets her over the edge. “I-It’s too dark. I’m ascared.”
“No, no, no,” I say. “Don’t you start crying. Just hide. You can do that, no? All miners are good at hiding.”
She nods her pixie head, pretending to be brave, and I realize that it takes more bravery, more sheer guts, for that little girl to slide into a dark, scary space than it does for me to face the Dr?u. I’ve a weapon and body armor. She’s only got herself.
“Good girl,” I say, feeling as awkward as Jenkins trying to dance a waltz. “Don’t worry. I’ll be back soon.”
After closing the door, I take cover behind the debris on the rail bed. From here I can cover the basement door and keep the Dr?u in my sights. Above me on the viaduct, my crew is holding their positions.
I reach Vienne on the aural vid. “Stay put. Cover the friendlies till they’re safe.”
“Affirmative,” she replies.
I see that Ebi has stopped shooting. She and Fuse have hoisted the wounded man by the armpits and are half dragging him to cover near the tunnel.
Another burst of gunfire. The thin man squawks. Grabs his thigh. Blood pours down the leg of his trousers, and he stumbles forward, taking Ebi down with him.
“Jenkins!” I bark into the aural link. “Damn it! Don’t shoot the friendlies!”
“It wasn’t me!” he shouts back. “I ain’t even reloaded yet. The gun’s jammed.”
“The Dr?u!” Vienne points at a figure emerging from the smoke.
He stands a head taller than the others, it seems, and he wears two bandoliers crisscrossed on his chest, his uniform a mix of CorpCom black ops and regular military issue, probably stolen from a dead man. His weapon is an armalite fitted with a laser scope. The same scope he’s now using to sight Dame Bramimonde.
The Dame works to untangle herself from her bleeding companion, while Fuse and her daughter drag her by the arm, trying to get to shelter behind an abandoned rail truck. Only a few meters away. They’ll never make it.
“I have the shot,” Vienne says.
But I’ve already raised my armalite, and I have the better angle. I lay the crosshairs of my sights on the Dr?u.
“May I help you aim?” Mimi asks.
“No thanks,” I say.
In the heartbeat of time before I squeeze off the round, I feel the caress of the stock against my cheek. I feel the recoil, a slight kick that my body absorbs reflexively. I open my sighting eye as the bullet enters the target’s skull, three centimeters above the left temple. Then exits the opposite side of the brow.
The Dr?u drops his battle rifle. A rivulet of blood trickles into his beard. He steps back, blinks, and jiggles his head, as if trying to shake something out of his ear.
“It’s not a kill,” Vienne says. I can hear the disappointment in her voice.
Shake it off, Durango. “Stand ready.”
I train my sights on the Dr?u. Waiting for his next move. The bullet, I guess, has only damaged the frontal lobe of the brain. Except for two holes in the sides of his head, he probably will live. We’ll let him live, too, as long as he doesn’t go for his weapon again.
“Mimi,” I say, intending to ask her to scan the wounded man’s vitals.
“Scan?” she replies.
“Negative.” If he’s dying, I really don’t want to know after all.
The smoke from the ballroom begins to waft out over the wounded Dr?u. He’s standing in the same spot on the viaduct, turning in circles, listening to a sound he can’t quite hear. I could eliminate the target now. Easy shot. But I can’t take it.
“What’re you waiting for?” áine says as she steps out from behind a rail car. So that’s where she went. I thought she’d obeyed orders too easily. “Kill him while you have the chance.”
“No,” I tell her. “Regulators don’t shoot wounded targets.”
“You’re having a go at me, right?” she says. “You just shot him. Do it again!”
The smoke has almost cocooned the Dr?u, who seems to have no interest in picking up his battle rifle. “The Tenets forbid it.”
“That’s stupid!” she protests. “Save yourself the trouble of having to kill him later. Finish him off before he can get away!”
Shaking my head, I ease off the sights. The Dr?u isn’t going anywhere, and we may be able to capture him, interrogate him. He’ll be more valuable alive than dead. “The Tenets aren’t about doing what’s easy. It’s about doing what’s right.”
“Bugger your damned Tenets! That’s an animal, a bloodthirsty jackal! They’re not even human anymore.”
“And if I shot an unarmed, helpless enemy,” I say as I start moving closer to the basement door where the kid is hiding. “What would that make me?”
“A man!”
“Yeah, well,” I say, thinking of Father’s last words to me. “That’s not the kind of man I want to be.”
She crosses her arms and stamps her foot. “Damn you!”
“Say whatever you want,” I say as I push her behind a huge chunk of decking fallen from the viaduct above. “Just keep your noggin under cover. Mimi, scan and store the wounded Dr?u’s biorhythmic signature.”
“I can’t,” she says. “That Dr?u is no longer within range.”
“What?”
“He’s gone.”
She’s right. When the smoke clears, the viaduct is empty.
The Dr?u have disappeared.