Dawn of the Mad (9 page)

Keitel’s young assistant saw the technicians’ bodies fall to the ground and cried out, “What are you doing?”

Dr. Keitel spun around, aiming his pistol at his assistant. “What is the meaning of this?” the young assistant cried out once more.

Dr. Keitel approached his assistant. “I am very sorry and deeply saddened by this, Seth, but I have no choice. We must protect our research, whatever the cost. This is much bigger than you or I could have imagined, and this solution we have now is the key.” Dr. Keitel now stood in front of the cart. He looked dispassionately at Seth, and fired a single shot which impacted him between the eyes. The body slumped forward against the dashboard of the cart. Dr. Keitel walked away, toward the shuttle. As he entered the shuttle, he took one last look at the bodies of the slain technicians. He closed the door to the shuttle. The engines began a slow, steady whine as the pilot increased power for liftoff.

“I am so sorry,” Dr. Keitel said to himself as the shuttle lifted off into space. He shook his head slowly, a genuine look of sadness on his face.

“OK, let’s get this thing out of here,” he said to the pilots. His seat was behind those of the pilot and copilot. He gingerly lowered a black case from his lap to the floor between his feet. He opened it slowly, revealing a dozen vials of his precious solution, packed tightly together. Smiling, he closed the lid and stowed the box under his seat. He looked out and window. Already the complex looked like a tiny speck on the desert planet’s surface.

The craft hurtled toward the relative safety of space. The hairless figure was seated in the rear of the craft. No special attempts had been made by the technicians to restrain it when it was led on board; only the life belt on the seat was utilized. Still, it managed to hold itself upright and steady against the motions of the shuttle.

The figure began to become cognizant of its surroundings. It observed the occupants of the front of the craft with keen interest as the craft rapidly gained altitude. It stored the data bombarding its senses, and it began to think of how to survive. It thought about quenching its ever-growing thirst. It could smell the flesh of the other three shuttle occupants. It vaguely recalled a time when it was a killer of men, firing weapons of flame, much like the scene it had just witnessed.

CHAPTER 6

“Has Lord Sabis transmitted a progress report?” The question penetrated the Auger-Seer’s mind. His master did not use his voice to speak; he no longer had a need for it. The Auger-Seer was deep underground beneath his temple in a giant rocky chamber, monitoring half a dozen Auger-Lords who were connected permanently to the consciousness of the ancient master. They were arranged in a circular pattern around a mist-filled globe on cobweb encrusted grav-beds hovering five feet off the ground. They constantly muttered and murmured incoherent thoughts their minds received from other Auger-Lords on the planet above and other locations throughout space. The Auger-Seers job was to make sense of these utterances and keep the master informed. The ancient master felt the fatigue of his years and had lost the energy to keep tabs on his minions long ago.

“Lord Sabis has confirmed that the doctor succeeded in completing his regenerative solution—”

“
My
solution. He completed only the human factor,” the master’s thought interjected.

“Of course, my master,” the Auger-Seer spoke aloud. Although he had been gifted certain powers of the mind, he was not yet capable of projecting his thoughts. “There is a complication. The doctor is escaping with his research. Admiral Raus was unable to stop him from leaving.”

“He will not escape in totality,” the master replied telepathically. “I underestimated the doctor, but it will work out in our favor. Soon he will arrive on a new world, and we can continue our expansion with our own legions, devoid of the humans above. The visions are become clearer. You must instruct Lord Sabis to compel Raus to go after the doctor.”

“Of course, my master. There is one more thing—the contingency plan in case Raus never made to the facility. The mercenary force I hired is approaching and they will carry out their orders.”

“That is of no longer of any consequence. They arrived too late. Inform Lord Sabis that
The Emperor’s Fist
is not to leave until that research facility is razed to the ground. I do not want any survivors, lest some remnant of the research survive and fall into unintended hands.”

“Of course, my master.” The telepathic link was severed. The Auger-Seer placed the palm of his gloved hand on the globe surrounded by the Auger-Lords. He shuddered briefly at the grotesque sight of them. Once vital beings, they were now just withered husks. Tubes snaked from where their eye sockets and mouths used to be, connected to the base of the globe that occasionally emitted a blast of steam.

A pulse of energy surged through him as the consciousness connected to him. He issued his commands, which were translated into psychoenergy and boosted across space to Lord Sabis, one of the six Auger-Lords who were similarly connected to the consciousness on board Admiral Raus’s flagship.

His commands were simple: “Destroy all ground forces and structures, and pursue the doctor.”

“We have a problem, colonel.” Static slightly obscured Matthias’s voice as it came over the tactical net.

“What is it, Matthias?” The colonel stood outside the complex, having just observed a small craft take off into space from within the forest. Its vapor trail remained visible as it streaked into the upper atmosphere.

“Our sniper team at the base of the plateau reports a small armored column heading this direction from across the desert.”

The colonel pondered this information as he stroked his chin. “What? Can you identify the force?”

After a brief pause, Matthias responded, “No sir. We cannot positively identify the column.”

“Interesting,” mused the colonel. “It seems another player may be seeking our prize. Very well. Recall all elements to Level One. If Captain Cruwell is ready, prep for liftoff.”

The colonel walked to the edge of the plateau, where he opened his helmet’s visor. Producing a set of binoculars, he scanned the area and soon spotted the approaching armored column.

“Matthias,” he said into his wrist communicator, contact Raus and see if he can track that craft that took off from the forest.”

“Understood.”

“Let’s get that door down!” Captain Cruwell yelled to his cutting team, which had nearly cut through the blast doors. “We’re running out of time! And watch your fire; stick to your zones!”

He watched as light appeared in small holes which formed into jagged cracks in the door. The team leader signaled to the others, and they put aside their torches. They put their shoulders into the door and pushed with all their might. With a loud boom, the cut out section of the blast doors fell to the ground with a deafening roar. The cutting team was shot down in seconds as a hail of small arms fire hit the assault force. At Cruwell’s signal, the rest of the team rushed forward and entered the vast cavern. They took positions behind any pieces of cover they could find. Cruwell could make out only five or six defenders, but they were doing a good job of keeping his element at bay. The defenders had a belt-fed projectile machine gun and were putting up a lot of fire.

Cruwell could not get all of his force inside. “We don’t have time for this,” he grumbled. He moved around the rock of the cavern wall that provided his cover and brandished two frag grenades. Without hesitation, he charged toward the gun crew and threw both grenades perfectly at the stack of crates they used for cover. He rolled behind an earth mover fitted with a giant drill bit just as the grenades detonated. The blast destroyed the crate barricade and the machine gun, dazing the defenders. Before they could regain their composure, the assault element rushed them, gunning down the first defender who tried to stand up.

As they realized that their primary defense was out of commission, the small contingent of defenders dropped their weapons and raised their hands, resigning themselves to be prisoners of war rather than facing certain death in battle. Cruwell emerged from behind the earth mover determined to get answers.

“Where is the exit here?” he demanded of the nearest prisoners.

Hearing nothing he said, “I’ll ask one more time.” Cruwell slung his rifle over his shoulder and withdrew his pistol from its holster. He switched it on, and it emitted its characteristic low whine. Still, there was no answer.

Cruwell aimed the pistol at the nearest prisoner and fired. The man’s head exploded in a flash from the subatomic projectile, sending skull fragments and brain matter in a wide arc and onto some of his fellow prisoners. Cruwell stiffened briefly, in shock at what he had just done, executing a prisoner with no hesitation. After a few seconds, he snapped out of his trance.

“That blast door behind us leads to the surface,” a wavering voice spoke from the end of the line of prisoners. “But you will never catch them; they have an escape craft outside.”

“Thank you,” Cruwell said. He activated his wrist communicator. “Colonel, this is Cruwell. We have a situation down here.”

The static broke and the colonel’s voice came through. “Get your ass topside and prepare to repel an attack.”

“Colonel, a shuttle may have escaped,” Cruwell said in earnest, trying to get his attention.

The static broke over the net again. “I know. Admiral Raus is tracking it. We have a bigger problem right now and I need every swinging dick topside. An armored reactionary force is on its way. We don’t have much time.” The transmission ended. Cruwell turned to his men without hesitation. “Let’s go, topside!”

“You did well, Sebastian,” the colonel said to Cruwell as he continued to scan with his binoculars. The armored column definitely was getting closer, each vehicle leaving a plume of dust behind it. “The pod is being loaded with prisoners and salvaged equipment. I don’t want this mission to be a total waste. Fleet should be tracking the escaped craft. We still have more equipment to go; this ground force may reach us first.”

Troopers formed a single file carrying various items from the genetics laboratory to the drop pod. Cruwell saw the drop pod was emitting steam and gasses from side vents as it was being prepped for liftoff. The trail through the jungle had widened considerably, almost as if the jungle had given up.

An explosion near the bunker complex entrance sent earth and shrapnel flying into the air. The lead tank from the approaching column had opened fire from its main gun. “Get that pod airborne!” the colonel yelled. Cruwell rushed down the trail to the drop pod and ran up the ramp into the pod, trying to get the pilots attention. His helmet comms were not audible since the pod was powering up. Due to the captured equipment and prisoners, space was at a premium inside the drop pod. Troopers quickly took their assigned seats and strapped themselves down.
If one of the tanks scored a lucky hit that would be far worse than a stranded infantry platoon.
Within seconds, the drop pods’ engines were at optimum power. The pilot took Cruwell’s incessant yelling as the signal to lift off. The pilot hit the brake release, allowing the two-story behemoth to raise, the ramp closing as it did.