Originator (39 page)

She put her back against the stairwell wall and stared at that door, heart pounding. Tacnet showed her that the fighting was in buildings two, four, and five about the perimeter, presumably Talee-GIs had come in by air, she didn't know. The computer mainframes were here, in the central building, down on the carpark level, but there was no access from there, they had to come up to these levels to cross and go back down again. Those approaches were guarded and booby trapped, tacnet showed her the locations . . . and she hoped again the Talee really couldn't access tacnet, but with Cai now running the network here, it seemed unlikely.

Inexperienced soldier that she was, Raylee could see the effect it was having—the defensive positions were spreading to the perimeter, more and more of the defenders engaging, attention being pulled outward. So with high-grade opti-cam, Talee-GIs could sneak in here, while attention was elsewhere, and get into the computers and shut down Cai's counter-matrix. She wasn't a soldier like these others, she couldn't engage on the perimeter anyway. So she wouldn't be distracted. She should just stay here, and watch, and hope that whatever modifications Cai made to the building sensors would detect a sneak-in opti-cam.

But first she had to get out of this stairwell. She reached, hand trembling, and eased the door open. And with one of the greatest efforts of her life, pushed all the way through it and into the kill zone.

Sandy saw all the red dots vanish from tacnet and knew that Jane wouldn't miss the distraction. And two rapid shots, from nearly a hundred meters off amongst the trees. Return fire came back, and even without tacnet Sandy
could calculate their position from the sound. Two previous marks, who she'd have expected to shoot back, were not shooting. Jane was accurate.

Sandy came around the tree she'd been using for cover, targeting those gunfire locations. Two more GIs fell to precise headshots, and she skidded into the undergrowth to collect a fallen rifle from one of Jane's victims—the woman had an eye missing, blown straight back into her skull from precision rifle fire. The rifle was an FSA model, and Sandy rolled again, low in the undergrowth, and put a higher-velocity bullet through the head of her first victim, to be sure. She searched him, as tacnet reignited with red dots, scampering and changing position but none yet advancing. There had been only four in this flanking section, and all were down in several seconds. Surely it would give them pause.

Her network barriers registered assaults, a brief disorientation-flash into net vision . . . but back again as she realised she could handle it. Cai had given her a couple of crazy-intricate barriers that integrated with her own, and now the Talee net attacks seemed feeble compared to before. Probably that was Cai's counter-matrix now working—the Talee-GIs' active scan only established a connection to autistic units; it was the infiltration matrix that would exploit that connection and hack the target's brain. Without the infiltration matrix to back them up, these Talee-GIs could net attack her all they liked—without their nasty matrix, they couldn't disable her. Unless Cai's position was overrun and the counter-matrix destroyed at the source.

But now this pause. She'd wiped out the approaching southern flank, four GIs, but she couldn't escape this way because it was too obvious, and the kids were hidden by the riverbank and couldn't outrun GIs. But those Talee-GIs knew where she was now, and Jane, and so could figure roughly where the kids might be between them. Why not rush in and get them, if Kiril was the target?

Then she realised. “DANYA RUN!”

Danya grabbed Kiril, crashed through riverbank undergrowth, and fell into the shallows. He heard the missiles coming, a shriek through the trees, and grabbed Kiril for one last leap and dive into the muddy water. The explosions felt like a blow to the head, then the air was full of tearing bits of wood and shrapnel, and he dove full underwater, dragging Kiril with him. Things hit
the water around him, then a submerged tree trunk was blocking the way, and he hauled Kiril over it, kicking and splashing to slide onto the other side . . .

. . . and looked frantically for Svetlana and couldn't see her. Two more explosions ripped big trees to pieces before him and blew him back off the trunk and into the water. He swallowed river water and grabbed the trunk, surfacing to find Kiril still clinging alongside. He couldn't leave Kiril, the water here was deep, swirling and full of underwater snags. He was the weakest swimmer of the three, and if he was hurt here, he'd drown. But he had to find Svetlana . . . and calling out to her would get them all shot.

Another rocket hit the riverbank twenty meters away, and he felt the shockwave through the water, like someone using his chest for a drum. Water sprayed down, and chunks of wood, and a rain of leaves. He held onto the trunk above Kiril, covering him with his body. If the rockets began hitting up and down the riverbank, they were dead.

Sandy ran through the barrage. They were airbursts, blasts and shrapnel scything trees like a lawnmower cutting grass, trunks crashing and falling all around. She figured she was fifty-fifty to get through it alive. But this deep in combat reflex, those odds flashed out at her like a beacon of hope, the best and only chance she had.

Shrapnel tore her, ripped her clothes, but she could hear the rockets coming and could tell from a lifetime's experience of modern combat where they were going to hit, and which way to run, to dodge, and when to fall flat and roll. The shrapnel caused no pain, though from the force of several strikes, she knew they could be debilitating, perhaps disfiguring, even to her. Smoke, fire, and thick clouds of dust hung airborne from the explosions and reduced visibility to a few meters. When she reached the first Talee-GIs, she was on them before they saw her.

She put rounds through faces, point-blank, kicked sideways off a tree to change direction as she rolled, shots kicking off splinters as she returned fire even as she hit the ground, tearing out the woman's throat. A shot hit her shoulder from cover, even as she spun to target while diving . . . and that man's head snapped back as another rifle shot cracked. Jane, she realised. Jane had followed her through that hell, guessing what she'd do. Now they had a chance.

They ran, moving fast, the remaining enemy deactivating tacnet to try and hide. But it did them no good—with numerical advantage fast dwindling, and network advantages neutralised, all that was left was raw killing skill. She and Jane moved as though with one mind, almost as though each knew the other's purpose in advance. Jane drew attention while she flanked and killed, and then vice versa, never stopping, never allowing the scene to settle. And when finally there was only one left, Sandy peppered her cover with fire, ducking low to avoid return fire, which Jane then used to target in a running leap and put a burst through the woman's chest before she could reacquire.

Sandy was at her as she tried to stagger back up, shooting the gun from her hand, then smashing her back against a tree. An average-looking woman, nondescript, infiltration-model. Looking dazed, with no particular fear or emotion. Sandy put bullets through her knees and caught her by the jaw before she could fall, holding her up.

“Nothing?” she asked, as cold and hard as death. No response in those eyes. She smashed the GI's arm, saw the shoulder dislocate, and smashed it again for good measure. Grabbed the broken body from the ground and threw it back against the tree again, still breathing, and gasping. “Nothing at all?”

Jane walked close and watched, saying nothing.

“You still uplinked?” Sandy asked the wrecked GI before her, staring her in the eyes. “This going back to your masters? Good. You picked the wrong fight. We adapt fast. Your tech advantage has just been neutralised. You haven't crippled us. You've improved us. These drones are the start. You're next. You're not the most dangerous species in this corner of space. We are. And we're coming for you.”

And she smashed the GI's skull like a melon.

“
Cassandra?
” It sounded like Ragi, though the connection route was unclear. “
Cassandra, the infiltration matrix suddenly collapsed. I'm reading a massive reduction in the enemy presence keeping it stable
.”

“
That's me and Jane
,” she replied. “
We just killed a dozen plus out here . . . and we've been under fire from foreign artillery, they must have commandeered some combat flyers. Can you lock that down for us?
”

“
Of course, Sandy, I'll have it down in a few moments. With the matrix down FSA and CSA will be back on line shortly
.”

“
Where's Cai?
”

“
Cai's dead. It got very nasty here, but we think it's nearly over
.” The shock of that registered past combat reflex, though just barely. “
How are the kids?
”

At which she took off sprinting, as
that
got past her combat reflex. “Danya!” she yelled as she ran. “Danya, stay in cover! We got all the GIs, but they've still got flyers! Danya, where are you?” Because where there was Danya, there would surely be all of them, safe and well, hidden with all the cunning of a veteran at hiding.

“Sandy!” came the return yell, from over by the river. “I've got Kiril, but I can't see Svetlana!” Relief and terror, all at once.

“Stay where you are, I'll find her!” If he was in the river shallows, he and Kiril would be relatively safe if indirect fire started once more. “Svetlana! Svetlana!” There was no reply. She ran through a carnage of shattered trees, leaping piles of wood and leaves, ripped clothes flapping.

“Can you see her?” She ran to Danya's voice, vision on full infra red, searching for telltale heat signatures. There was heat everywhere from recent explosions, but shrapnel made small dots, and hot dirt was just a haze of colour, not the dark red and yellow of a body. Jane arrived at her side and took the bank to the right, while Sandy went left. Then a yelping howl, from Jane's direction, that sounded like an asura.

“Here!” yelled Jane, and Sandy reversed at full speed. And crashed through undergrowth to find the asura, anxious by the riverbank, looking at Jane in the shallows, who was cradling a small, limp figure in waist-deep water and looking alarmed, perhaps even scared. The water around her was red with blood.

Sandy screamed.

Sandy sat in the FSA hospital ward at Svetlana's bedside and stared at the sleeping girl. She had a tube in her nose and mouth and various things patched to her arm. There were little gel seals on small cuts across her face, and her hair had been shaved up the sides to allow access to several more. Her left eardrum had been ruptured and was now covered by a big white bandage. And her left thigh had been sliced wide open by shrapnel, now wrapped in a nano-solution bandage beneath the covers and monitored moment by moment. Thankfully the blast had knocked her senseless, so she wouldn't remember a thing when she woke. Thank god. But if that shrapnel had been a little across, it would have removed her leg. A little higher, it would have cut her in half.

The doctors who had been in to check on her cast Sandy nervous looks. Three hours since arriving here, she hadn't allowed anyone to treat her. Her clothes hung in shreds, sliced as though she'd been used for sword practise. Skin beneath was torn and red, blood-caked and nearly black, in great streaks beneath her clothes. She'd pulled out the shrapnel herself, it was mostly larger, none of the fiddly stuff from smaller munitions, save the squashed round in her shoulder. Five main injuries, but nothing as bad as she'd thought, just muscle strikes of the kind she was specifically designed to withstand and keep on fighting. It was trivial, compared to what Svetlana had suffered. Less than trivial. And so she sat with her little girl, unmoving in the neighbouring chair, and waited until she woke. Another day, another week, she didn't care. She wasn't going anywhere.

Danya entered. He was showered and clean and wearing some borrowed clothes. He squatted by Dodger, who lay on the floor alongside, somewhat clean after Danya and Kiril had washed and dried the reluctant animal in
a bathroom, so he no longer smelled like wet dog. Animals in the ward were against all regulation, but this particular animal had been more useful in warning of impending Talee attacks than all available technology, and Sandy was adamant that he stayed. Under an artillery barrage that would have scared most animals so much they'd still be running, Dodger had gone straight for Svetlana, found her injured, and gotten Jane's attention. That was good enough for her. Danya ruffled the asura's oversized ears, then walked to Sandy's side, and she put an arm around him. But her eyes never left Svetlana.

“Sandy,” he said gently, with concern. “Sandy, she's going to be fine. The micros will fix her ear in barely a week, and her leg will be less than a month. She'll need crutches for a bit, that's all. She'll be more upset about her hair, that's going to take a while to grow back.”

Sandy nodded, and said nothing. Thinking only of how fragile Svetlana looked, lying there with those tubes in her. And unable to shake that image, of Jane, cradling Svetlana, in waist-deep red water. Her lip trembled.

“Sandy,” Danya tried again. “You're scaring the hospital staff. They have to come in here, and . . . well, you look kind of terrifying right now.” Sandy couldn't see how that mattered. “Kiril doesn't want to come in here until you're cleaned up. He's upset to see you like this.”

That registered. She gazed at him. “He's upset?”

Danya gripped her shoulder. “You're not functioning right now, Sandy,” he said firmly. “Kiril needs you to function. We all do. This is you freaking out. That's okay for a bit, I know you love us, and this scared the shit out of everyone. But it needs to stop now. Okay?”

She blinked at him. And realised, with utter helplessness, that he was right. As always. “Okay,” she said in a small voice. And hugged him tightly.