The Silent Army (33 page)

I was no surgeon, but it was the only chance she had. I eased the tip of the knife through the skin beneath her belly button and the hard muscle underneath.

Wachalowski, do you copy?

Blood was running out of the wound. I focused, keeping the knife clear of the dark artery that showed up on the backscatter. I felt the tip touch the shell of the device, and saw it move inside of her.

The virus failed
, I said.
I can’t stop the bomb. I’m coming up.

How long before detonation?

Eight minutes.

Understood. We’ll wait as long as we can.

The revivors had begun moving through the room, not sure what to do. Several focused on me, trying to resolve the signature with the body heat they detected. If one of them grabbed me, that might be all it would take to set them off.

How many to be extracted, Wachalowski?

I grabbed a set of glorified pliers from a rack of surgical tools and held the tip above the wound. As soon as I pulled the knife free, more blood pumped out, and I jammed the pliers into the hole. As the warmth rushed over my fist, I found the edge of the device and grabbed it.

It didn’t want to come. I winced as I pulled it free anyway and dropped the small, sticky brick and its trailing wires into a bedside pan. I injected blood clotter into the wound and watched it harden. Calliope’s face was gray, the color fading from her lips.

Wachalowski, come back. What about your civilian?

I cut the connection.

12

Resurrection

Faye Dasalia—KM
Senopati Nusantara

“We’ve got him,” a voice shouted. Revivors carrying backscatter scanners walked atop the stacks of crates. One of them waved to the others down below. A loud snap from above echoed through the hold, followed by the whine of electric motors. One of the winches moved to retrieve the crate.

“Probability?”

“Near one hundred percent.”

The cable lowered, and they attached the hooks. Ice flaked away with a crunch as the crate was pulled from the rest of the stack. They began lowering it down toward the deck.

An explosion thudded from somewhere above, and the lights overhead swayed, throwing shadows. A metal groan came from the remaining stacks, and something clanged to the floor. The men below used poles to steady the crate as the cable brought it in.

Someone has boarded the ship.
The words flashed in front of me. It was a broadcast from Fawkes. The thousands of eyes in the hold stopped moving, all at once becoming fixed.

The scout teams were unsuccessful. Find them and stop them.

The sound of a thousand weapons readying cracked through the hold like thunder. The figures began to move.

Above them, the winch lowered the stasis crate. It met the deck with a thud as the revival team moved in. The metal surface was dull and spotted with corrosion. There was lettering stenciled on its surface in both English and Hebrew.

“Open it,” one of them said.

Two revivors stepped closer. One released the magnetic restraining bolts while the other broke the seal. Air rushed in with a loud hiss as they pulled the cover free. Mist trailed from the door as it was thrown aside.

Secure the nukes,
Fawkes broadcast.
Those responsible for carrying them, retreat to the engine room. The power core there will mask the radiation. Once they are confirmed below, seal off the engine room and keep it secure. A second team will secure the bridge and keep it locked down at any cost.

An armed helicopter has approached the helipad,
a report said.
Only one confirmed.

Take that helicopter out. Get as many stingers up there as you can. They can’t stop them all. Do not allow them back onto the helipad; whoever boarded does not get back on that helicopter.

A stasis blister bulged there inside the crate, and I saw a male figure inside it. A revivor deployed its bayonet and jabbed the tip through the blister. It slit the plastic open and the stasis fluid inside flooded out. Two others plunged their arms into the thick soup and grabbed the figure inside. They lifted it out, arms and legs dangling, and more approached as it was placed on the deck.

One sprayed the body with a jet of water, washing it clean while others scanned it. I got a look at its face under the lights, and realized that I knew it. He was bonier now than in his pictures, and black veins wormed beneath skin that was pale and thin, but I still recognized him. The man was Samuel Fawkes.

“It’s him,” one of the revivors near him said. “Confirmed. It’s him. We’ve got him.”

Samuel Fawkes had been murdered; we knew that. A C-shaped dermal patch stood out on his side, just underneath the right side of his rib cage; I remembered it now from the crime photos. That’s where that strange street woman had stuck the knife. She’d meant to kill him then, and she almost did. She believed her own people would come for her when they found out what she did. She disobeyed an order. . . . After that, she disappeared.

The second skin patch had sealed a deeper wound, where flesh puckered around his left jugular. He had lived for three more years, before a second murder attempt was made. The second was successful.

If the memories of it hadn’t been taken, it would have been clear as day; at least one person had wanted to kill him, and at least one person wanted him alive.

Are they not as organized as we first thought?

A revivor pulled the tube out of his throat. Another held a metal wand to his neck. With an electric snap, his body convulsed, muscle striations standing out in shadow. The sound crackled through the hold as the soldiers continued to file out. Smoke began to rise from the metal wand in thin threads, and then a new signature began to initialize. It coalesced, and snapped into its waveform.

The waveform contained his encoded ID—that same ID that had reached out from far off, from across the desert and across the sea. It was here in front of me. As I stood and stared, I could feel him reaching. As the others helped him up onto his feet, he extended a connection out to me. I accepted the circuit, while he stood up for the first time in ten years.

Faye.

Yes. It’s me. I’m over here.

Samuel Fawkes opened his eyes. A faint silver light swelled, and began to grow brighter.

Nico Wachalowski—KM
Senopati Nusantara

With Calliope’s body hoisted on one shoulder, I pushed through the throng of revivors as fast as I could. They’d noticed the blood on the gurney and were nosing past us to get at it. I adjusted her weight and headed out into the main corridor. Something crashed in the med ward behind me as I stepped onto the moving walkway and eased her down. My vision blurred as I knelt over her body, gasping. Another crowd of revivors was moving through the corridor up ahead. I couldn’t risk reviving her yet, but I couldn’t wait much longer. Her JZI would keep her blood oxygenated for a short time, but not forever.

The eyes watched us impassively as the walkway took us past them. As they receded into the shadows, several of them began to take notice, but none followed.

An explosion drummed through the ship, and the emergency lights went out completely. A beat later, the walkway slowed to a stop.

Shit . . .

The revivors behind us still hadn’t moved. The way ahead looked clear. I turned on a flashlight and lifted Cal up again, pain shooting through my legs.

Something darted across the beam ahead, but whatever it was, it didn’t stop for us. I staggered down the corridor, then shouldered open a door to my right, taking us into a stairwell. Up above, I could hear wind whistling through the open hatch. Gunfire cracked above the sound of waves.

She’s unconscious and we’re coming up. Can you clear a path?

Can do. Hold position.

A whine rose in pitch, then the sound of the helicopter’s chain gun blared. A torrent of rounds crashed off the deck as the racket drowned out everything else, then stopped ten seconds later.

Okay, you’re clear. Move now.

I hung on to the rail and hauled her up as cold, wet air blew down the stairwell. Over the ringing in my ears I could hear the wind howling on the deck, and the thump of helicopter rotors on the helipad outside.

Make straight for the airlift.

Got it.

Open flames blew in the wind as rain and smoke sheared across the deck in front of me. The ship tilted as a wave swelled, its nose rising in front of us. Ahead I could see the helipad. Most of the MSST who were left were inside, but two were moving toward us, carrying a stretcher between them. One of the men stopped to fire at something off to his left. I waved to one of the soldiers on the pad.

We’re here.

We see you.

An explosion went off, and fire climbed into the night sky as the surface of the water lit up. Soldiers on the helipad began firing at something off to their left. The two soldiers on deck reached us and helped me get Cal strapped in.

Now. Go now.

They ran, Cal’s body swaying on the stretcher between them as they made their way back. I stayed behind and covered them as more revivors appeared on the deck behind us. The rain was driving now, making it hard to see them, let alone target them.

Nico.

I turned toward the spot where the soldiers had fired. A small group of figures gathered on the deck, eyes glowing softly in the dark. As the spotlight swept over them, I saw a tarp come free, taken by the wind. It cracked like a whip and blew off into the darkness, revealing a small aircraft underneath.

Nico, wait.

As the floodlight focused on them, I saw Faye standing near the aircraft. Her coat whipped in the wind as she met my eye. Behind me, the MSST leader had spotted them.

We’ve got more hostiles on deck. Take them out.

Wait. Hold your fire.

There was another revivor next to Faye, a male. It had a coat draped over its shoulders, but was naked underneath. Its skin was waxy, and even at that distance I could see the network of dark veins underneath it.

As gruesome as it looked, though, I recognized that face. I zoomed in on it to be sure.

Fawkes.

He looked past Faye and met my eye. It was definitely him. Fawkes was out of stasis.

I took aim across the deck and fired. With the weather and the movement of the ship, the shot went wild and clipped his shoulder, dotting Faye’s face with black spots.

Nico, wait.

I moved toward him and slipped on the deck. I went down hard on one knee and pulled the trigger again as pain shot up my thigh. By then, the others were crowding him. I caught one of them in the back of the head as it moved to shield him. Faye stepped into the line of fire.

My finger tightened on the trigger. From behind Faye, Fawkes was still staring at me.

You kill Fawkes.

Ai had said that. She said it at the restaurant where she first dragged me into the case. To her, it was a given. To her, it was something that couldn’t be changed.

I might be able to shoot past Faye and hit him. The dark spot that floated in front of my eyes darted back and forth over his face as he watched me.

You kill Fawkes.

They were starting to move him, with Faye between us. My finger tightened on the trigger.

Wachalowski, what are you doing? Take him.

Faye broke from her position and ran across the deck toward me. Fawkes looked back over his shoulder and watched as she stopped in front of me. She stood there, like she wasn’t sure what to do.

I began to move the gun toward her when she grabbed my lapels and, before I could stop her, she kissed me on the mouth.

I began to move back, but she wrapped one arm around the back of my neck, pulling me closer, and I felt her fingers move through my hair. It had been years since we’d kissed, and even in the middle of the chaos, it struck me how familiar it felt, how that one, small, human part of her hadn’t changed. Her kiss was exactly the same as it had been before. Her lips were cold now, but still soft, and just like she had all those years ago, she still had the power to disarm me. As crazy as it was, there was still some small part of me that surrendered in her arms. There was still some part of me that remembered when my duty was to her and her alone. I’d meant to push her away, but when my hands found her waist, I didn’t.

She broke the kiss and hugged me, pressing her cheek to mine as she extended a connection and I accepted.

This is for the best,
she said. I felt the shot before I heard it.

I staggered back, slipping out of her arms as she aimed the pistol and fired a second shot. It struck the body armor above my solar plexus, an inch from the first shot. It didn’t penetrate, but for a second I couldn’t breathe as I fell back onto the deck.

Faye turned, smoke drifting from the barrel, and ran back to Fawkes and the others. Gasping, I raised my gun and fired after her, but between the rain and the motion of the ship, I couldn’t get a clear shot. Fawkes climbed onto the escape aircraft as Faye reached them, and I saw her grab the rail and climb in after him.

“Wachalowski!” a voice shouted from behind me. I turned and grabbed the hand that was waiting, and climbed in as the helicopter began to lift off. As it pulled away, I saw the other craft below rise quickly, then the rotors turned and it banked quickly in the other direction as another explosion shook the ship. By the time the smoke began to clear, we were far overhead and moving away. One of the soldiers heaved the door shut.

“Three minutes, people! Get us clear now!”

“Cal!”

I pushed my way in next to her as the helicopter bucked in the wind. Leaning over her body, I released the stop I put on her JZI systems. It saw her vitals had tanked, and sent a jolt of electricity to her heart.

Come on . . .

Energy was building in the musculature around her spine and neck. The JZI detected it, but couldn’t identify what it was. Her heart was still stopped. It sent another jolt.

Come on, Cal . . .

Emergency systems were feeding oxygen into her bloodstream and had begun a regular pulse to keep the heart beating artificially. That would work for only so long. I watched her face in the dark.

Cal, are you there?

The energy collecting at the base of her neck had me worried. I focused on it, looking through the muscle tissue. There was movement in there. Something was forming. As I watched, small nodes began to grow.

Huma.
She’d been injected. She was already carrying the serum. The mechanisms inside had realized she was dead. The nodes began to branch out, connections forming between them.

I overrode her JZI and forced a payload of adrenaline into her bloodstream. There was a chance it would kill her outright, but she was out of time. Her heart seized. For a second her vitals pegged into the red, but through the stream of warning data I saw her heart catch; it beat on its own.

“Cal, wake up!”

The components had stopped forming. Her heart began to beat regularly. She opened her eyes.

“Cal!”

“Shit . . . you’re here,” she said.

“I’m here.” I went to touch her shoulder, but she bat-ted my hand away.