Final Empire (13 page)

I was already in the transport when the rest of the team arrived.
I hadn’t slept for even a minute, especially after my therapy session, and certainly looked the part; the darkness around my bloodshot eyes must have told at least some of the story. I exchanged nods and awkward smiles with everyone as they trudged up the boarding ramp, except for Brynja, who breezed past me without acknowledging my existence.

Karin went through her pre-flight checklist while we silently strapped ourselves into place in preparation for take-off. Yesterday’s argument in the conference room hung in the air, but no one volunteered to be the first to mention it. Probably for the best.

The engines rumbled to life. We roared into the morning sky and through the powder-white clouds as the sun rose behind us. A few hours into our flight I opened one of the overhead compartments and pulled out a long silver case, laying it down on the floor. I urged everyone to gather around and see what I’d packed for the trip.

I flung open the lid to reveal our weapons. In the early hours of the morning I’d made my way to the research lab and cobbled together some modified guns; non-lethal firearms that, hopefully, would achieve my goal of discovering Darmaki’s location without the need to torture one of his lackeys. I explained my plan and recommended that everyone take hold of their assigned weapon and get a feel for its size and weight.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Peyton studied an oddly-shaped pistol, poking and prodding at the elongated bronze weapon from every angle. The widened barrel looked more like a muzzle-loading blunderbuss than a modern-day gun, but the design was necessary.

McGarrity scratched at his rumpled hair, equally confused. “Yeah, are we cosplaying as pirates or going into battle?”

“You’ve got your
own
weapon,” I reminded him. “You don’t need one of these. Sword made of light, remember? The forecast is calling for clear skies and plenty of sun – you’ll be at full power.”

“Damn right I will be,” he beamed, gazing out the window.

We’d almost arrived. The transport banked hard, descending towards a cluster of more than a hundred islands, all linked together by stone bridges. Venice was one of the few remaining cities left untouched by the steamroller of technology – the relentless juggernaut that had paved over most of the planet. While the majority of first-world metropolitan areas glistened with shimmering megatowers, the City of Canals remained untouched. It had been carefully preserved over the centuries like a priceless piece of art you’d find in the Louvre.

The team looked prepared, at least on the surface. McGarrity, as per usual, had no qualms about charging into battle wearing no more than a t-shirt and jeans. While he had the power to manipulate light into solid objects, it’s not like he had a healing factor or some kind of invulnerability. Why he refused to wear potentially life-saving armor, I’d never know.

No longer able to control her ability to ghost through objects, Brynja had opted to wear one of my remodeled smart-fiber suits. The flexible alloy allowed for a full range of motion, but solidified on impact like an airbag in an old gas-powered car: when a projectile made contact with the suit’s fabric it hardened, causing even the highest caliber bullet to bounce harmlessly to the ground.

London – my shiny new swarm robotics suit – was with my team of engineers, being prepared for the next phase of the plan (assuming I’d survive long enough to put it into place). Either way I needed protection. For the mission I’d chosen to wear the navy blue smart fiber suit that had protected me throughout the occupation in Northern Alberta, and it was still in perfect working order, if a little scuffed and battle-scarred around the edges.

Peyton and Gavin opted for the suits as well; Peyton had worn hers in Alberta and was relatively confident, all things considered – though Gavin seemed more skeptical about his suit’s effectiveness.

“So bullets are one thing,” Gavin asked, adjusting the chunky metallic gauntlets that fit over the charcoal-colored bodysuit. “but what about the giant that attacked South Africa? This is some sick looking armor, Mox, but I don’t know if it’ll hold up to something really gnarly...like a stomp from a fifty-foot monster.”

“We’ll be in a confined area,” I explained. “Darmaki will send in someone with more finesse to defuse the situation. And the goal won’t be to hurt me.”

“Right,” he said, snorting out a laugh. “Whoever he sends might not hurt
you.
What about the rest of us?”

“Don’t sweat it,” McGarrity replied, draping an arm over Gavin’s shoulder. “I’ll have your back. Remember, I have experience with this shit. I single-handedly won the second Arena Mode tournament.”

Brynja cocked her head, hands on her hips. “
Really?
I think your definition of ‘single-handedly’ might differ a little from mine.”

McGarrity rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m just saying, I know what I’m doing out there. And I’m bringing some serious firepower with me. If anyone gets in my way it’ll be slice and dice.”

He mimed the motion of swinging a broadsword with both hands, adding his own lightsaber-like sound effects with each stroke. Of course when he generated his sword it was completely silent, but that didn’t stop him from embellishing.

“We’re not here to
kill
anyone,” Peyton sternly reminded him. “We just need Darmaki’s superhuman to
think
we’re going to capture and torture him...right?” She looked at me expectantly.

“Right,” I said quickly, trying to convey as much confidence as possible. “And don’t worry about who might come after us...I have this entire situation under control.”

I didn’t. I had no idea what kind of a nightmare I was getting us into.

A cold bead of sweat rolled from my hairline, streaking down my temple. At a poker table I could out-bluff the best in the world, but in real life situations I was a terrible liar. I dragged my palm across my forehead as inconspicuously as possible, just as Brynja caught my gaze. Her eyes narrowed, blue-painted lips pressed into a tight line. Did she notice me fidgeting? Possibly, but I felt like it was more than that. She was reading my mind. Burrowing through my darkest thoughts – all of the potential pitfalls and grimmest predictions I had about this mission. The things I’d never dare speak aloud.

Or
she suddenly realized that I was simply full of crap (which was equally true, more often than I cared to admit).

Brynja turned and glanced out the window towards the floating city that was rapidly approaching. “Well I’m glad you have everything figured out, ‘chief’. Because if you
don’t
, we’re all gonna be mashed into meat waffles.” She let out a frustrated sigh before gesturing to her back. “And this piece of junk had
better
work out there.” The long, narrow rifle she’d been assigned was latched to the magnetic strip on her armor’s spine. It was designed specifically for this mission, and could only be fired once before necessitating a lengthy reloading process (a process we didn’t have time for during combat). It had been tested several times by my team of engineers and in theory it would work, but being in the field is rarely the same as being in the safe confines of a controlled testing facility – there are just too many variables to account for.

A moment later Karin emerged from the cockpit and distributed the jellybeans. Brynja spread her palm and accepted it without turning around. She was still pissed about what I’d said in the conference room back in Fortress 18. I didn’t blame her. After all we’d been through together I didn’t have the right to overrule her – to brush off her suggestions without any consideration. But for a mind reader, she sure as hell didn’t know what I’d been going through. No one did. I wanted to tell everyone about my tumor and headaches, and about the voices that had been rattling around inside my head, but the time never seemed right. What
was
the right venue? When was the correct moment? How do you sit all your friends down in a room and tell them that all the money in the world can’t buy you any additional time? The moment would come, and eventually they’d all understand. My meds were controlling the pain, my contingency plan was on standby...everything had been taken into account.
Eventually
I’d tell them all the truth, but not now. They didn’t need this kind of stress, especially right before we landed.

We pressed the jellybeans into our ears and Karin returned to the cockpit, testing our audio. Solid connection, no lag. Satisfied with our communications, everyone leaned into the passenger bay walls at our pilot’s instruction. Long magnetic straps emerged, buckling us into place as we prepared for landing.

The five of us marched into St. Mark’s square, heavily armored and armed to the teeth.
I’d figured that by late October, much of the summer crowd would have long returned home, giving us ample space to work with. I was partly right. While not overcrowded, the wide open courtyard that led to the basilica still bustled with activity, despite the fact that superhuman battles were breaking out globally. Tourists fed pigeons and snapped photos, wandered between the endless rows of stone columns while snacking on lemon gelatos, and generally carried on as though
that
sort of thing doesn’t happen in
this
part of the world. Even with the possibility of being pulverized during a superhuman fistfight, you’re simply not going to stop Europeans from cashing in on their vacation days – especially the elite who had money to burn. We drew a few curious glances, but no one seemed alarmed. In a city famous for its ornate masks, they might’ve thought we were simply decked out in elaborate costumes – or, that we were part of a more enhanced security force.

However, there was no shortage of ‘regular’ security in the square, and just a minute after our arrival a squat, olive-skinned police woman crossed our path, stopping dead after catching a glimpse of our faces (we’d intentionally left our helmets off so our faces would be recognizable). The officer yanked the com from her shoulder, shouted something in Italian, and scurried away in the opposite direction.

It was happening, right on schedule.

I turned towards my friends. “This is what we were waiting for,” I said, attempting to steady the tremble in my voice. “It should only be a couple minutes now. Everyone remember their places?”

Peyton pressed her lips against my cheek and smiled weakly. She nodded and led Gavin off to the far end of the courtyard, concealed behind rows of stone columns that flanked the square.

“Brynja...”

“I
know
.” She jammed her thumb towards the customized rifle on her back and replied with an exaggerated nod. “We went over this a hundred times. Point, pull the trigger...I’ve watched movies, I know how guns work. It’s not rocket science.”

“All right, all right,” I said cautiously, “just double-checking.”

“
OhmygodIknow
,” she huffed, each of her words spilling into the next. “This isn’t double-checking, this is
zillion
-checking. I
get
it.” She stomped away, taking her place at the opposite end of the square, leaving me alone with McGarrity.

“It’s just you and me now, bro.” He began shadow boxing, throwing hooks and uppercuts as if he were warming up for a prizefight.

“Awesome.” I said flatly. “Just remember that you need to put on a show. Make it
look
like you’re trying to hurt them, but don’t go in for the kill. Whoever Darmaki sends after us, we need them alive, or the plan falls apart.”

It didn’t take long. A tense minute ticked by and a swarm of police poured in through the opening of the square; the wide-open piazzetta that led to the waterfront. The frightened officer had called for back-up, and the cavalry was now at her back. McGarrity and I held our ground as they rushed across the courtyard, guns drawn, shouting at us in a language that I barely understood. I’m pretty sure a burly, moustached man screamed ‘bastard’ but I couldn’t be sure. Language barriers aside, I knew exactly what they were asking us to do.

I dropped to my knees, lacing my fingers behind my head. McGarrity did the same. I gazed skyward, awaiting the swirling purple lights and flashbulbs to appear. Fat pigeons drifted by and a single cloud rolled lazily into my field of view. But there was no sign of the jet.