Redemption Protocol (Contact) (66 page)

Havoc rocketed over the surface of Plash, five seconds from the shaft.

The vacuum where his soul used to reside – the utter desolation of eleven years in the wilderness – was about to be expunged. Killing Forge was all that mattered. He didn't feel pressure, he felt liberated. There was nowhere Forge could take this fight that he wouldn't follow. God help Forge, because no one else would.

He knew there was a chance that Stone was still alive – Forge wouldn’t hesitate to use Stone as a diversion if he could. Havoc didn't know how he would react to that – Forge was every point of his compass now.

Ahead of him loomed a pair of gigantic towers. The immense hyperboloid structures erupted from the planet's surface in front of him, only ten kilometers from the shaft. He would decelerate brutally as he threaded between them. He expected a massive barrage when he slowed – he’d be traveling predictably and generating so much heat it would be impossible to hide. His fleet would be tested to the limit.

He curved upward as the gigantic towers raced toward him. Missiles streaked out from concealed positions high on the alien structures. It happened slowly enough for him to register but too fast for him to react properly. He worked to discriminate the genuine targets from the decoys.

Five Starfish blazed on his battlespace; nuclear EMP weapons designed to generate a massive E1 pulse using the planet's magnetic field. His remaining laser platform lit one Starfish up, blowing out its control system. It glittered as it broke up in flight. His electronic warfare platforms targeted another Starfish and mission killed it. There was a flash as it veered into a tower.

Three Starfish arced across the sky kilometers overhead. His platforms launched salvo after salvo of missiles upward.

Too far.

Too slow.

Too late.

He decelerated brutally as he flashed his suit, retracted interfaces and de-powered and flooded key systems. His aerial frame cockpit was shielded, but that would mean almost nothing directly under the three nuclear gamma bombs. His platforms had Faraday boxes, induction shielding and other mechanisms to minimize EMP effects, but the weapons were so close that mission kill seemed inevitable.

The Starfish detonated.

His platform telemetry surged then ceased. Their glowing debris streaked away and burned up. He was too close. The systems in his aerial frame surged and blew. What had been a functional hypersonic vehicle was now a spinning disc of composite junk. He ejected explosively, knowing he was flying far too fast for a safe exit.

The wind shear smashed him straight back into his aerial frame. His suit pulverized the vehicle like a mallet through cinder toffee. He spun in the atmosphere, traveling insanely fast. His hopeless non-aerodynamic profile generated shock waves that he fought to get under control. His suit temperature shot up two thousand degrees as he rapidly decelerated.

The hydrodynamic shock fronts from the nukes hit his suit like three hammers on one nail. He was punched downward like a rag doll. He desoaked and reactivated his suit as he tumbled, fighting for a stable orientation.

He shot toward the right hand tower as salvo after salvo of missiles launched skyward from the shaft – Intrepido's coup de grâce. Given the temperature of his suit, he knew he would stand out like a penny whore at a society dinner. Time dilated as his mind worked in bullet time. His jetpack would never stop him spinning into the rocket barrage that spelled certain destruction.

He explosively ejected the auxiliary power cell out of the back of his suit. When it was ten meters away he partially blew it and braced for impact. The shock wave was a lot more immediate than the nukes. His suit's active armor blew out as he was kicked sideways.

The explosion gave him the directional nudge and deceleration he needed to crash into one of the sloping surfaces of the tower at a survivable angle. He screeched hundreds of meters across the curving surface of the disc and into shelter from the incoming rocket barrage. Micromissiles swarmed from his launchers to interdict missiles curving round the rear of the tower. Directional micronukes obliterated enemy munitions. He rolled and boosted from his suit jets, launching forward, thrusting his jetpack as he sought to maximize his cover. He was most of the way round the tower when a layer cake of explosions ruptured the very fabric of the atmo around him.

 168. 

Intrepido scowled at the holo, willing for Havoc to vanish.

“There it is! Got him.”

Tyburn’s reaction was instantaneous.

“Confirmed kill?”

“No, he's ejected from his frame. He's lit up though. He’s fucking glowing. Another explosion, very close. I think his secondary systems have blown.”

“Did it take him into cover?”

“Affirmative, behind the tower.”

“It's a pack jump, Intrepido, his armor will be damaged.”

“A pack jump? Is that shit even real? The only people I ever saw try that didn't live to regret it.”

“The barrage?”

The skyline erupted with explosions around the two towers. Intrepido was bemused by the question.

“You can't see it?”

“Of course. What other assets do we have nearby?”

“Three blades in the canyons leading to the shaft. And the G6. Which he doesn't even know exists.”

“Can you move the blades toward the tower and intercept?”

Intrepido felt his confidence returning as he transitioned to the blades.

“Already done, Sir. And you can leave the tactics to me.”

“You’re good?”

Intrepido grinned.

“He's lost his frame and his electronic warfare platforms. He’ll jet or cover the ground to get here. Either way he'll be slow. The ambush didn't kill him but it might as well have. My blades will fucking shred him.”

“You're tracking him now?”

Intrepido paused.

“I think so. Not sure what he's doing though.”

“What do you mean?”

“He's heading up the tower, not down.”

“He’s moving
up
the tower?”

~    ~    ~

Havoc thrust up around the lip of the next disc, moving up the giant tower, seeking cover as he intercepted another set of missiles a hundred meters below him. He flew with his jetpack and boosted from his suit thrusters where possible, working around the structure, threading walls, columns and levels for cover. Intrepido was pounding the tower pretty hard. And as soon as Intrepido was sure he was going upward, Havoc was sure he would light him up even more.

He launched his SLAM from orbit as he spun left, jetting round the tower. His suit lasers subverted three missiles and they exploded off the walls below him. He doubled back, dropping down a level into cover to avoid the next burst as he detonated a micronuke overhead. The spread of rockets above him was obliterated.

He was astonished at the performance of his munitions and his suit. The only thing that surprised him more than they did was his own capability. He’d been good before he’d died – he’d been the best. He didn’t have words to describe his capability now. His suit was extraordinary. He felt like it was holding him back. Is this what it felt like to be eXtraordinary? Because it felt incredible.

He jetted higher, fighting for height.

~    ~    ~

Tyburn frowned as he studied the battlespace in his mind’s eye.

“What the fuck is he doing?”

Intrepido licked his lips.

“Painting himself into a corner. He knows the blades are there.”

Tyburn was confused. He didn't like the feeling.

“Take him. Hit that fucking tower with everything.”

Ekker looked at Tyburn, apparently surprised by Tyburn’s emotive outburst.

Intrepido nodded.

“Done. The top of that tower is about to become hell.”

An alarm chimed in their battlespace and a calm female voice spoke.

“Orbital launch. Nuclear launch detected. We have a SLAM inbound.”

“Impacting where?” Tyburn demanded.

Intrepido analyzed.

“For our position at the shaft. No, wait. Discriminating. For Havoc. Someone is trying to take out Havoc.”

“Orbital launch. Nuclear launch detected. We have a SLAM inbound.”

Intrepido killed the alarm. Tyburn frowned heavily.

“Can we take the nuke out?”

Intrepido shook his head as he worked frenetically.

“Negative, low confidence of intercept... It looks like Havoc's SLAM.”

“What the
fuck
is going on?”

“No idea.”

“The nuke, Intrepido. Count us in.”

“Ground impact on the tower on five.”

“Ok.”

“Five... What the fuck is that?”

Silence.

Tyburn glared at the console.

“Update, please, Intrepido.”

“I have a track moving between the towers.”

“The SLAM?”

“Toward the SLAM.”

“Havoc?”

“Affirmative.”

Tyburn’s bewilderment was total.

“
Havoc is moving toward the nuke?
”

~    ~    ~

Havoc launched from the edge of the disc, blasting from his jetpack, boot and hip thrusters. He needed everything to pull this off – it was all or nothing. He spun and fired at the disc he was leaving. The explosion smashed into him, accelerating him dramatically. He arced across the sky, a sitting duck as he rocket jumped and thrust at maximum to cover the gap between the two towers. He would be in the atmo for just under three seconds. A lifetime.

Behind him the top of the first tower disappeared in a raging inferno, explosions building on explosions as the tower was shrouded by plasmite detonations. The missile shock waves battered him, the searing flames grasping outward as shrapnel rattled his suit like hail. Intrepido must have hit the tower with everything. Hopefully that meant Intrepido didn’t have a lot left.

A salvo of missiles at the trailing edge of Intrepido’s barrage redirected to annihilate him. He rotated in the atmo, kinetics poured from his tricannons and micromissiles flooding out of his launchers to intercept them. His suit systems injected code to subvert one of the warheads and it detonated in flight, destroying most of the remaining barrage. His suit lasers blinded and mission killed three of the remainder, diverting them off track as his micromissiles destroyed the final two warheads.

The next wave screeched off the ground toward him.

The SLAM burned down through the atmosphere above as if God himself was partitioning the sky with a line of fire.

Havoc willed himself onward, throwing his arms out for the landing on the second tower, ready to tuck on impact.

The SLAM neared the alien tower, accelerating all the way, as unstoppable as divine justice.

Havoc landed, rolled forward and crashed sideways into a low wall, sparks flying off his suit. He crashed into a pillar and whipped around it. His suit registered a thousand Gs on impact. He didn't notice as he swung round and lifted on his jetpack, aiming for the center of the tower as he tried to maximize his cover. This was going to be close.

Behind him, color stopped existing. There was only white, brilliant, stunning light. It didn't end. The moment stretched, spreading, thinning, then distilling, pooling and burning. The light faded for an instant then was renewed, brighter and stronger. The light crystallized into energy, intensity and scorching heat. Flame rolled up around everything. The atmosphere burned. The temperature of his suit rose one thousand, two thousand, three thousand degrees. The carbon nanofilaments neared their threshold of delamination and structural failure as the temperature peaked at three thousand three hundred degrees Celsius.

His sensors whited out as the hydrodynamic shock front roared up the tower past him, sucking out the atmo from around the tower. He jetted hard as he was torn away from the building, giving it everything at full burn as he was plucked outward, unable to resist as he thrust against vacuum. The wave peaked, collapsed and the atmo plunged back into the empty space. He went from being dragged outward to being flung back in. He shot into the wall of the tower. Peak impact at four thousand Gs. A dent in his helmet. He dropped and hit the floor beneath him. Alive. He must send the Morvent Academy a card.

The radiation reading spiked. The nuke was relatively clean but it was inevitable only ten kilometers above a SLAM. It was fine, he didn't care, he just wanted to know.

Had the fucking thing worked?

~    ~    ~

Tyburn listened to the disconcerting silence.

“Intrepido. Are you there?”

“My three blades are gone, vaporized. We still have thirteen salvos and the G6. I don't understand.”