31


Avoiding the creatures of the maze was harder than I anticipated. My grenade driving off their boss had brought others out of their holes. My guess was that lesser predators had been wary to trespass in the tentacle monster’s domain. Now they were fighting over scraps, probably hungry enough to eat a lone Reaper. At many intersections, I was forced to alter course, often climbing over tops of walls or through narrow tunnels to get where I needed to go. In other places I had to work with X to decode high tech barriers, traps that would cut me in half with spring-loaded blades or blast me with enough energy to cook my bones. As always, the place was a mixture of high and low tech dangers.
Both options promised to be easy solutions to maze navigation, but never were. Reach a dead end? Just climb over it. Arrive at a modern blast door at the end of a subterranean passage, just hack the security code with the help of an LAI. Traveling in a straight line was more difficult than it should be with all the tools and skills I had at my disposal. Mazes sucked.
X-37 helped. Which basically meant I would’ve never escaped without his constant guidance.
We found Elise and Path less than a hundred meters from the Jellybird, but with their backs to the wall of the maze. One of the officers was shouting orders, demanding they reveal my hiding place.
“What a douche,” I muttered.
“I was going to call him an overly efficient and energetic officer of the Union spec ops community,” X-37 said.
“Seriously?” I wondered.
“You never get my jokes,” X-37 complained.
“Tell one that’s funny,” I suggested.
“Maybe later. I have something more important than your entertainment. Jelly says the Union force has a team at the center of the tech shrine now,” X-37 said.
I snapped my fingers. “They just missed us.”
“What’s the plan?” X-37 asked.
I powered on the stealth cloak and slid the Reaper mask into place. “Let’s see how this works when I have three camera views to guide my movements.”
“I bet you can’t get within knife range,” X-37 challenged.
“You know I can,” I said, creeping forward.
It was a matter of following the terrain, pausing when Union troops nearly stumbled upon me, and then singling out small groups to take out with my blade and pistol.
I took out the first fire team without incident, but the next was able to send up an alarm. The entire spec ops platoon mobilized and began searching for me. I pitched my last grenade as a distraction, then jumped the other direction into a machine gun nest they had set up.
Blood spurted into the air as I went to work with my blade. Their armor was good, but I was working myself into a rage. The slaughter was seemingly caused by an invisible blur of vengeance. The effects of the stealth cloak didn’t last long after things got messy, but I had already hit them with a healthy dose of shock and awe. Even elite commandos had a line their courage couldn’t cross.
The combat zone I’d selected would look like the spokes of a wheel from above with the main action in the center. I slipped into one of the spokes and wiped blood from the stealth cloak. Being invisible made things so much easier.
“That’s not necessary,” X-37 advised. “The cloak will adjust if you just stand still for a moment.”
I did as my LAI asked, but knew it wasn’t going to work. Two of the commandos followed the bloody footprints I left on the ground.
“Why is he just standing there?” one of the commandos asked, edging forward with his gun up and ready.
“Archangel Five, we have him in a side passage. All units respond to my location,” the second commando said.
The cloak flickered. I dropped low and moved sideways just as the first commando fired.
He was too close for his own good. I lunged forward, swinging my blade upward as I moved. The sharp edge slashed through his groin and up his abdomen. I spun away as Archangel Five fired at where I logically should have been to cause the injuries to his friend.
One bullet grazed me, but the rest pounded into the armor of my first victim.
The Archangel Five shuffled sideways, seemingly searching for my stealth cloak.
I dropped and rolled.
He fired.
Three additional commandos rushed around the corner.
Already a step to one side of the one shooting at me, I sliced off his head then dropped to my stomach immediately. Archangel Five was zero now.
The three newcomers fired.
I scrambled toward them like an enraged animal on all fours.
One man recognized the blur of my stealth cloak and kicked out with his boot right before I reached the group. A half second later he aimed his rifle downward and opened fire, nearly blowing off his own toes and sending gravel fragments into his teammates.
Rolling sideways, I slashed the back of his lead boot, neatly severing the Achilles tendon.
He collapsed.
I snatched his rifle, came to my feet, and leapt over him to attack the other two—stepping on one man’s shoulder to propel myself up to a rocky ledge where I watched and waited.
It was easy to see from this close proximity they wore Union spec ops gear. It was sleek and the way they moved, I thought the armor was enhancing their strength. On their breastplates was an icon resembling an angel.
“Archangels down! Archangels down!” one shouted into his helmet comms.
The other switched his rifle to full-auto and sprayed a line in the air where he thought I was.
I aimed the stolen rifle but it wouldn’t fire.
“Don’t tell me you have your hands full at the enemy ship! We need help now! We are heavily engaged with our primary target! Respond immediately!” the commando shouted loudly enough that I could hear him through his helmet. Or maybe he’d forgotten to turn off his external speaker. My ears were ringing, so it was hard to say what I was actually picking up and what I was guessing at to fill the gaps. Combat could be like that, an exercise in painful reality and mind twisting illusion.
The two commandos—archangels or whatever they called themselves—backed toward the wall, aiming their weapons in front of them.
When they were near enough, I dropped down and slashed through both of their necks in one sweeping arc of my blade. The bodies pitched forward. I considered stealing their weapons but already knew I couldn’t use them.
“Elise, get to the ship. Now,” I ordered, retreating from a new Union pincer attack. “How many of these commandos are there, X?”
“Fewer than there were before,” X-37 said. “Fourteen on the planet, more than enough to kill you if you slip up.”
I exited the wheel shaped section of the maze and faded back in the shadows, looking for a way to the ship. I minimized the HUD view of what my friends were doing nearer the Jellybird and listened to X-37, turning when he advised me to turn. Every five or ten meters, I took cover, looked behind me for pursuit, and then resumed my desperate dash through the confusing landscape.
My reward was the sight of Elise running up the ramp of the Jellybird. Right behind her was Path, holding a spot on his shoulder that was leaking blood. He started walking backward to check for pursuit.
“Get on the ship,” he said, voice loud enough to be heard but not emotional enough to be called a shout.
“I’m going to the weapons locker for more ammunition!” she yelled back, her voice sounding dry and faint due to the distance between us.
Path was clearly wounded but he held his sword in one hand at the top of the ramp, ready to take all comers. Reaching across his body to hold the shoulder wound emphasized that he didn’t have much fight left. The injuries I was able to see were numerous and there were probably more that I couldn’t see.
I made a move for the ship, hoping I wasn’t drawing my pursuers after me. Just because I hadn’t seen any Union commandos for a while didn’t mean they weren’t coming—and if they were, it was a good bet they were really pissed off.
“Jelly has advised she is ready for liftoff. We agree that their small arms fire will not damage the ship,” X-37 said.
“You’re sure?” I asked, picking up the pace.
“Reasonably sure,” X-37 said. “Jelly also has used her sensors to determine they are regrouping. Unless you want to stay on this delightful planet, it’s time to make a run for it.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice,” I said, then darted toward the ramp. Maybe Elise could smoke me in the gym, but I doubted anyone could’ve caught me when I was running for my life. I hit the ramp hard, slamming my feet on the metal.
Diving, rolling, I came to my feet inside the ship. Elise and Path blocked any possible pursuit and closed the ramp.
“Get us out of here, Jelly!” I ordered, running for the bridge. “X, it’s time for that brilliant escape plan you’ve been working on!”
“I’m way ahead of you, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said. “Everything has been set in motion. All we need to do now is evade a few of the Union fighters while Henshaw and the Lady Faith do their part.”
“You put our fate in the hands of an untrustworthy gambler and a pleasure yacht? What the hell am I paying you for, X?”
“I’m ignoring that question,” X-37 said. “Henshaw is a master of deception, as you have so succinctly mentioned. He’s a genius with ocular engineering—a master of manipulating visual imagery.”
“I don’t get your point,” I said, taking manual controls from Jelly. “This is going to get rough. All shields forward.”
I rammed Jelly’s heavier shield against the shield of the first fighter to intercept us, sending it pinwheeling through the upper atmosphere. Others vectored in on us with more caution. Jelly fired at them with her anemic point-defense system.
“We really need to work on that,” I said. “How much can a few more auto-cannons cost?”
“Henshaw’s plan should be taking effect in moments,” X-37 said, ignoring my speculation about upgrading Jelly’s firepower.
“And what exactly is that?” I asked, picking the best course I could find and pushing the engines hard.
“Well, as the Lady Faith explained it to the Jellybird, the ocular engineer is sending out messages to anyone in the spec ops carrier group who has any type of ocular modifications. He’s also worked out some hacks that will trick their computers briefly,” X-37 explained.
He didn’t have to finish. I saw the fleet drawing into a defensive perimeter, with a few even firing at enemies that weren’t there. I adjusted my plan and headed for the nearest slip tunnel.
“Cain for Henshaw, can you read me?” I asked.
“I can read you loud and clear, Hal,” Henshaw responded, sounding tired and not at all happy with what he was doing.
“Is it too early to say thanks?” I asked, running to my flight checks as I spoke.
“Not at all. Thank me anytime you like,” he said.
“You don’t sound excited about it,” I observed.
“I’m not, but it’s the right thing to do. I’ve chosen sides, and if this doesn’t prove which, I don’t know what else to do to prove I’m not a total rascal,” Henshaw said. “They are starting to unravel the problem I caused them. They won’t be able to operate at maximum efficiency, but they are on their way to catching us. The Nightmare is fast. Let’s hope her crew doesn’t crack the sensory illusions I hacked into their computers any time soon. The Lady Faith assures me she has the speed to escape unless they find a miracle in their favor and they start after us sooner than anticipated. I can’t speak for the speed of your ship.”
“I think we’ll squeak by,” I said, tracking rockets as they were fired from the carrier. Some of them seemed not to be directed at imaginary enemies now, but at us despite the impossible range. Someone was taking a desperate shot because it was all they could do. “It’ll be close, but we will see you at the slip tunnel. After that, we can talk about future alliances.”