Chaos Quarter: Imperial Ambitions Page 37

  Rex realized that he hadn’t fired a single shot during the whole encounter. The militia shifted their weapons back—some reloading, others catching a moment to breathe.

  Keith retreated back several feet, adjusting the headset of the radio he’d taken from Longshot. He spoke urgently, his face etched with a concern that wasn’t what you normally saw on a man leading his troops in battle.

  “…where…you’re pinned there? How many…good lord…is there any route…none, damn…hold on, I need to think; stay on the line,” Keith said.

  He looked up, glancing about in the distance, lost.

  “What is it?” Rex asked.

  “K-Kate…” he said. “They’re trapped in the jail—her, a few other militia, and about forty unarmed people…children and the elderly.”

  “And the jail is—” began Rex.

  “In the western half of the village,” said Keith, motioning with his rifle.

  “With several hundred warriors between them and us,” Rex surmised.

  “Y-yes,” Keith said. He was breathing heavily, his eyes darting from place to place. It wasn’t the look of a seasoned warrior; it was the look of a terrified father.

  “You try to go after her, you’ll just get your people killed,” Rex said. “It’ll be hard enough fighting your way to the spaceport.”

  “I know, I know,” said Keith, balling his fist repeatedly. “But…but I can’t do nothing. She’s my daughter…I-I have to…”

  “No, you don’t,” Rex said, resting a metal hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go.”

  Keith’s head perked up, the worried eyes locking straight on Rex’s faceplate.

  “That’s suicide, even in a suit like that,” Keith said.

  “If I go on the ground, yeah,” said Rex. “But I got an idea.”

  Keith cocked his head quizzically. Rex backed away, retreating across the flat roof of the school.

  “Clear a path for me boys!” he called.

  Across from him the militia fighters cleared out. Keith’s eyes went wide as realization struck. Before he could object, Rex sprinted forward. He ran for the balustrade, planted a foot a few feet before it, and launched himself into the air. He cleared it easily, soaring across the street, to the shock of the warriors below. The pitched roof of his destination, a nearby home, approached quickly. He extended his legs out—

  And slammed through the roof of the home. Shingles and timber splintered as his massive weight brought him into the home’s upper level. He hit hard, his knees bending despite the suit’s shock absorption.

  For a moment it was silent. Then he noticed two warriors standing near the window, stunned. One turned suddenly, swinging his gun from the school toward Rex. The other followed a moment later.

  Rex lunged forward, crossing the small bedroom just as the first gun barked. He thrust his weapons forward, the barrels slamming into the heads of the warriors. They hurtled backward, smashing through the window and plunging to the street below.

  A rolling sound caught his ear. Turning back, he saw a grenade roll along the floor, thrown from the stairwell. It exploded, shrapnel spraying the front of his suit. His HUD flashed damage figures, the percentages standing for suit integrity dropping a half-dozen ticks, but holding up. As he refocused the sound of heavy footfalls filled the room, four warriors sprinting up the stairs.

  He brought up his fifty cal as they summited the stairs, drilling one with a pair of rounds. He pitched back, a gaping hole in his chest. The warriors behind him leaped over his body and charged across the room.

  Rex swung the machine gun around at a charging warrior. At point-blank range he cut loose, as did the warrior. Rex jolted back a few inches as a half-dozen rounds struck his suit. The warrior flew halfway across the room, his guts blasted out.

  Fire pelted him from both sides, the survivors having at him. Rex lunged left, flinging out his left arm, backhanding one of his attackers. His metal fist, and the bulk of his grenade launcher, crushed the man’s face into a bloody mask. Rex turned back, the survivor advancing and firing away. Bullet by bullet his suit’s integrity ticked away, so Rex swung his right arm, the barrel of the fifty cal knocking the man’s weapon away. To his credit the warrior replied by reaching for a knife at his belt, but before he could get his hand around the haft, Rex charged him. He thrust the fifty cal into the man’s face and fired.

  The body slumped to the floor. Rex shook his head and breathed heavily, his body tired despite all the assistance it was getting. A second later he heard a bouncing sound and saw another grenade fly up the stairs.

  He ducked low, curling into a ball and turning his back to the grenades. It erupted, showering him with more metal. He took the blast and then leaped up, scanning the room. On the far end a couch waited, its fabric chewed up from the firefight. He grasped one end and swung it over the stairway just as another four warriors charged up. It blocked the stairs completely, buying him a moment to clear his head and plan his next move. The warriors shot through the fabric of the couch, but he ignored it.

  He quickly looked at the hole he’d fallen through and realized that going back to the roof was of no help. The roofs here were too slanted for him to leap from one to the next. Instead he walked to a window above where the couch had been. It aligned with a window the next house over. A few hard kicks smashed away the struts beneath the window. He retracted his weapons and then used his augmented strength to tear the window frame away. Now with a decent hole in the wall, he stepped back and prepared to leap.

  With a quick sprint he was off, sailing across the street. Slugs pinged against his suit as he went, warriors firing from below. He neared his target window, turning his shoulder in to take the brunt of it.

  With a smash he was in, hitting on his side and rolling. Even with the suit, he was jarred, and it took a second for his head to clear. Shouts filled the air, followed by hurried footfalls. The warriors were coming toward this new house.

  He got up, running to the nearest window and smashing it out. Again he ran and leaped, just before a pair of warriors could get up the stairs and bring their guns to bear. Again he smashed through a window and felt his head scramble. Bullets streamed in, his pursuers opening fire, but he ignored it.

  Armed with a new and gratuitously destructive mode of transport, Rex smashed his way across the town’s upper floors. Block by block, he drew closer to the prison. Every leap he heard shots, felt shots hitting his armor, and then saw his HUD stream damage data as his armor bashed through wood and glass. But the suit held up, its chest integrity down to 73 percent as he came to the penultimate leap.

  He made the jump, flying through the air at a tall, three-story, wooden building. He smashed through a window, sending a hail of glass inside. He could see dark forms moving about, but couldn’t make them out in the chaos. He rolled, knocking somebody over before coming to a stop against some sort of wall.

  Rex glanced up, his head still swirling. He was in some sort of pub, the second floor of this building done up as a small tavern. The town’s main street separated him from the jail, which was directly south. And because of that, four warriors were posted in the room, staring at him with wide eyes, monetarily stunned by his entrance.

  Then the fire began. Three streams of bullets pelted him as he rose. He swirled his machine gun in a wide arc, hammering three of the men with lead. They jerked back, their body armor unable to withstand the barrage of big rounds. The fourth was the man he’d knocked over during his entrance. He was just getting to his feet, woozy from the collision. Realizing what had just happened to his fellows, the warrior tried to bring his gun up. Rex aimed the fifty cal at the man’s sternum and fired, the impact jerking the warrior backward with such violence that he slammed hard against the drywall, cracking it. Then he collapsed.

  Footsteps followed, people coming from both upstairs and downstairs, converging on him. Rex quickly sent a grenade to the lower level and then another to the one above. The explosions rattled the structure, eliciting scre
ams of pain from those caught in their wake. But the angry shouts continued, men filing in to come after him.

  He stalked over to the nearest window, smashing it out and looking over the scene. Warriors had the jail surrounded. They fired from every point of cover and every window in the adjacent buildings, all but the window he stood in, at least. Sporadic bursts of fire came from the jail, few and far between.

  With a quick run he leaped, sailing over Valley Town’s main street, toward the roof of the jail. Like the school it was flat, so when he hit he rolled, absorbing some of the impact.

  He moved to get up. As he did a section of the roof popped open—a trapdoor. A small, familiar blonde popped up: Kate. He felt relief wash over him despite all their recent “misunderstandings.” She was still alive, which meant the noncombatants she was protecting were still a going concern.

  “Friendly!” he cried, raising his arms.

  “I know; get in here!” she snapped.

  Rex rushed over, following her in. They descended a metal staircase, which groaned under Rex’s weight. It emptied into an upper-level hallway. At the end a militiaman stood at a window, potshotting any warrior who dared expose himself.

  “Are you it?” Kate asked as they moved down the hall to the next stairwell.

  “Your dad is as hemmed in as you. Didn’t he tell you?” Rex said.

  “Yeah, but I was hoping he was exaggerating,” she grumbled.

  “Sorry to disappoint, but he ain’t,” Rex replied as they started down the next stairway toward the main floor. “What’s the situation here?”

  “Situation is I got seven people left to fight off whatever they throw at us, plus thirty-nine civilians,” she said as they came down into the lower hall. The jail cell was thrown open, a dozen noncombatants inside. Keith hadn’t been lying. They were mostly children and younger teenagers, with ten or so older folk among them. The older folk seemed to be mostly middle aged, still able to move and help even if not fit for combat. So that was at least one break in their favor.

  “Have you any plan for getting them to the ship?” Rex asked.

  “No,” Kate griped. “No idea. We got at least one hundred warriors bearing down on us, can barely hold this place much less go on the attack.”

  “They’re moving to rush us!” cried a voice from the front room.

  They sprinted forward into the main room. Kate slid on her knees to a position a few feet back from the window, bringing her gun up in one smooth motion. Rex moved to a nearby window, the front door between them. He crouched down next to a kid who couldn’t be a day over seventeen.

  “Howdy,” he said, lifting up his left arm.

  “Uh, hi,” the youth said, fighting to keep his composure.

  Outside two waves of warriors burst out from hiding, sprinting straight on and firing blindly. The old spray-and-pray…It had its effect. For a moment the militia crouched low, instinctively. Then they came back up, firing into the enemy.

  Rex fired carefully, putting a grenade on the left, in the center, and then the right. It had the desired effect. The explosions broke up the first wave, killing a half-dozen people and chopping the attack into three smaller groups. The warriors bunched automatically, trying to get away from the grenade blasts. This put them into little knots. He focused on the knot in front of him, pumping bursts of lead into the men. Their leader went down quickly, followed by two more in the heart of the group; the militiaman beside him fired at the edges, putting two warriors down in quick succession—their combined fire dissolving the group down to five men. The warriors kept on though, charging headlong, leaping at Rex and the youth. Rex cut two in half in midair with a quick burst from his machine gun and then threw up his right forearm to block another. The man slammed into him and clotheslined, jerking backward violently, his throat crushed.

  The other two landed on the youth next to him. One of the warriors found himself at the end of the kid’s gun, the weapon being all that was between them. A burst of fire erupted and cut through him. The remaining warrior tried to bring his gun down on the kid, but Rex grabbed him by his collar. With a hard jerk, he smashed the warrior against the window frame, shattering his spine. The warrior screamed, his lower half going limp. Rex hurled him back out onto the street, his crippled form bouncing hard off the pavement.

  Rex slumped back. He took a moment to take stock. Chest integrity was at 65 percent, helmet integrity at 62. He was down to twenty grenades and one hundred slugs for the fifty cal. Shit. He hadn’t had time to realize how many he’d fired. It hadn’t felt like that many…

  He shook his head and looked over to the kid. The young man breathed heavily, his fingers like vices around his rifle.

  “Not bad,” Rex said.

  The teen managed a halfhearted smile, and then went back to looking terrified.

  “You got a name?” Rex asked.

  “Dan,” he said simply.

  “Well, Dan, you did good,” Rex said. The teen nodded, clearly unconvinced.

  “Rob’s down!” Kate called from her position at the other window.

  Rex looked over, seeing a man motionless on his back next to Kate. From the amount of blooding pouring out of his neck, it was pretty clear that he wasn’t going to make it. The defeated look on Kate’s face just served to confirm it. She looked over to him, meeting his eyes and shaking her head sadly.

  “Won’t take too many more of those,” she sighed. “They’ll just whittle us down…”

  Rex frowned and gazed back out at the night. The warriors were still there, so damn many of them, waiting, patient. A shrieking boom interrupted his stare, the distant sound of Lucius introducing some asshole to Longshot’s guns—

  Lucius!

  A smile came to his face.

  “Kate, I think I know a solution…”

  ***

  Longshot

  “You want me to do what?”

  “I want you to announce yourself to our enemies,” Rex said over the radio.

  “That’s what I thought you said,” Lucius scoffed.

  “It’ll draw them away from us,” said Rex.

  “Right to us, a ship full of refugees. We got at least four hundred people huddling in the cargo bay!” Helen declared.

  “Lu, you know damn well that they don’t have the firepower to take Longshot, not with the turrets up and running,” Rex continued. “You draw them in—”

  “And wipe them out,” Lucius concluded.

  “Hopefully buying us, and Keith’s people, enough clear space to get through,” Rex figured.

  Lucius paused, thinking. The warriors had pulled back to the nearest houses, looking for cover. He could easily have blasted them with the ship’s turrets, but he figured every second they weren’t shooting was a second somebody from down the valley had to reach the ship safely. But they were still there, still between the survivors in the fight and the ship that was their only salvation.

  “It’s risky, Rex,” said Lucius. “If we fail, and they take the ship…”

  “You’re a good enough pilot to get the refugees out of here if they get that close,” Rex pointed out.

  “Which would mean leaving you to die,” Lucius countered.

  “And Kate and Keith,” said Helen quietly.

  “Well then, you better be on your game with the guns,” Rex quipped. Lucius didn’t have to ask why he seemed so blasé about the possibility of torture and death. He knew the mindset. Rex was a soldier; he had volunteered for this. He could die knowing he’d saved hundreds, completed the mission, and be at peace with that. Well, not at peace with the dying part, but the “doing the right thing” part.

  “You’re going to do it?” asked Helen.

  Lucius nodded and sighed. “Stand by Rex. We’ll see how I do for bait.”

  “Copy that,” Rex said and then cut the line. Lucius turned to Helen, who stood, surrounded by holograms, their light reflecting off her worried face. “Send word to everyone: Ken, Keith, Rick, and Jake. Tell Cindy to get to the b
arricade any refugee willing to carry a gun. Should any of them get past me, they cannot get onto this ship.”

  Helen nodded solemnly and went about relaying the messages. Lucius took another deep breath to clear his thoughts.

  “Computer, scan the frequencies; find me which one the Europans are utilizing and then open a channel,” Lucius spoke.

  “Their communications will be shielded,” the computer informed.

  “It’s all right—not trying to listen in, just want them to hear what I have to say,” Lucius said.

  “Frequency detected, channel open.”

  Lucius sat for a moment, his fingers tightening around the control yoke. He glanced over to Helen, who had finished relaying the news. She just frowned, uncertain.

  He took another deep breath, and began to speak.

  “To all the warriors out there that I haven’t yet killed…”

  ***

  Valley Town

  A chill ran up Aetius’s spine when he heard the voice. He froze in place, his senses returning only when a half-dozen bullets smacked into his armor. He ducked back behind the corner of a building, shaking his head in disbelief as the words went on.

  “…that I haven’t killed yet, this is Lucius Baliol.”

  “No…” Aetius whispered weakly. It was a useless gesture. He’d known who it was the minute he’d heard the voice. He’d grown up hearing that voice, grown up calling the man who’d spoken it “bother.” He’d grown to despise it when the man had disgraced them all, forsaking all right to be called either “man” or “brother.”

  Lucius, here? How in seven hells—

  “I’m speaking to you know because I’ve been getting quite bored these last few minutes. It was great fun slaughtering your fellows, and oh so rewarding. In fact, I think I’d rather like to do it again. So I will make this simple. I am on the ship in the spaceport, the one surrounded by the bodies of your compatriots. If any of you think you are good enough to get on board and capture me, the great traitor to the empire, I invite you to do so now. Rest assured I will not make it easy for you. But then again, great challenges never are; otherwise they would not be great. I am awaiting your arrival with much anticipation.”