Grunt Traitor (40 page)

“Stranz said all of them.”

Sula was already running down the street towards the Metro station six blocks away.

Ohirra wanted to carry me, but I wouldn’t have it. I ordered her to run on ahead and get Sula inside with the nuke. If I didn’t make it, then I didn’t make it.

I poured on the speed, deciding to leave the blade sheathed on my back. The old running with scissors adage came to mind, except the blade was far worse than any pair of scissors I could imagine.

Far ahead, I saw Sula stop and bring her minigun to bear. She sawed the air with bullets, ripping back and forth.

Even further ahead, Stranz fired a phalanx of rockets.

Suddenly it was raining Cray. They fell, dead and dying, through the alien vine; some fell on cars, exploding what glass remained. Some fell on the pavement, cracking it where the vines hadn’t already broken it apart, their arms curled, wings torn.

I went temporarily blind as images flashed through my brain like shotgun blasts: Kilimanjaro where the Cray attacked and tore through our ranks, all claws and slashing; where they rose from the ground, pulling us into their clutches; where they tore through our encampment, even though I wasn’t there. Then Iraq, where pieces of my men fell around me after the roadside bomb went up, then Afghanistan where a group of children died when a man wearing an explosive vest ran up to an American officer.

I crashed into the side of a wrecked truck and sprawled painfully across the asphalt. I struggled back to my feet, slipped once, then kept running.

My grunts were pouring rounds and rockets into the sky, standing in a small circle at the top of the Metro station opening.

My face felt swollen and bloody from where I’d hit the ground. It figured I’d find a way to injure myself before enemy contact. I kept willing my grunts to head down into the station, but they remained in place.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and was able to dive for cover just as a Cray launched itself onto the hood of a car in front of me. Spikes jutted out from the knobs of its knees and elbows. It regarded me with a cluster of spider eyes in the center of its mantis-shaped head.

I came up against a man-thick alien vine and pulled myself behind it.

The Cray came at me, wings flared, four sets of claws reaching for me.

With the vine between me and the enemy, I pulled the blade from my back. I could feel it vibrating slightly in my two-handed grip.

The Cray had to circle around me, but I kept the thick vine between myself and it. It was obvious that it didn’t want to rip through the vine even though it could have done so easily. Maybe that was something it had been programmed not to do.

The Cray lunged right.

I swung sideways and felt the blade bite. The Cray fell back as ichor bled from the meter-wide wound, pieces of its stomach slipping to the ground.

I spun on my heel and ran. I only had a block to go. I could see more Cray coming through the canopy and landing on the roofs of buildings to either side of the street. I was down to a half-block when I saw Stranz and Sula head down into the Metro. The pile of Cray in front of them was twice as tall as they were.

Ohirra stayed and began to fire at the Cray nearest me.

I was fifty feet away when I saw a Cray descend and grab her. It started into the air, but let her go when she struck it in the face with a hammer blow from her EXO fist.

She pointed down the stairs, as if I needed to know where to go, then fired a burst into the Cray.

I passed her just as it fell.

She tried to sidestep, but it caught her and knocked her to the ground.

I was halfway down the stairs when I glanced back and saw another Cray land by Ohirra. It began to claw at her faceplate and chest. She didn’t move; either dead or knocked out. Without getting closer, I couldn’t tell. I dropped my sword, grabbed my 9mm pistols and fired both of them, sending rounds into the Cray’s side. Eighteen rounds later it fell out of view.

Suddenly Stranz was bounding past me. He grabbed Ohirra and pulled her from beneath the weight of the dead Cray. I snatched my blade from the ground and ran in front of him, down three flights of stairs into the darkness. I stumbled once, then found my balance at the bottom where Sula stood, her suit lighting up the vicinity.

While I waited for the others, I reloaded my pistol. I was almost done when an incredible explosion rocked me. Concrete dust fell, temporarily blinding me.

Stranz and Ohirra came clattering down the stairs. He had one of her arms around his neck and he was supporting her as best he could. Once they hit the floor, he let her go. I watched as she fell to her knees, but no farther.

“Is everyone all right?” I asked.

“Got the wind... knocked out of me,” Ohirra said.

“What was that explosion?”

“I had to close the front door,” Stranz said, “Or else we’d have Cray at our backs.”

“Stranz, check out everyone’s vitals and ammo status.”

“What are you going to do?”

I snapped on the flashlight I’d taken from the Chinook. “Going to check the tracks and see if they’re clear or not. I don’t know how much damage the alien vine has done below ground. For all I know, it’s as bad down here as it is up there. I’m hoping for otherwise, of course.”

I jumped down onto the tracks and headed west, saw where vines had penetrated the ceiling and walls and, even as I watched, were growing and moving like a thousand cilia in a long, dark throat.

I stared into the alien foliage, the world-eater, consumer of humanity. I heard it speak to me and I turned and marched back to the others.

Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you.

Joseph Heller,
Catch-22

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

S
TRANZ,
S
ULA AND
Ohirra stood on the platform, conversing, and I stood in the darkness, my light off, watching them. I wondered what they’d think of me standing there. Would they know the truth of it? Would they appreciate the need to change our mission?

I stepped out of the darkness and strode to the platform.

Stranz reached down and helped me up.

I went to Sula and began to unstrap the nuke.

“What are you doing?” Ohirra asked.

“Removing the nuke.” I spoke as calmly as I could. I didn’t want to give anyone cause for concern. “There’s been a change in mission.”

I saw Ohirra glance at Stranz. The ensuing silence told me they were conspiring against me, probably devising some sort of treason. I’d seen their kind in Kosovo. Someone gives an order and they try and find ways to not do it, poking holes in the reason, thinking of alternatives. Didn’t they understand? An order is just that—an order. It’s not open for interpretation or conversation.

“I wasn’t aware you had communication, Mason,” Ohirra said.

I finished unstrapping the nuke, then set it on the platform. The mini-Faraday cage the OMBRA techs had designed doubled the nuke’s bulk, and once we got it out, it would be far easier to carry.

“Understandable,” I said.

I went to remove the access panel from the W84. It had four recessed pins. I knelt before it, unscrewed each one, then pulled it free and set it on the cold concrete. The display was dark, except for a single blinking red light that indicated that the power source was still functioning.

Ohirra touched my shoulder. “Mason, we shouldn’t take it out. There could be Cray in the area. One EMP and we lose the weapon.”

“I understand what you’re saying,” I said. What I really wanted to do was put my gun to her head and pull the fucking trigger, but I needed to remain calm. The voice had explained everything to me with irrefutable logic. All I needed to do was follow it and then everything would be right with the world.

I kept working, even as I felt their eyes on me. Both Dewhurst and I had gone through several hours of training prior to the start of mission. I, in turn, had provided Ohirra and Mal training as my backups. Mal wasn’t with us any longer, but Ohirra could surely see what I was doing.

“Why are you disarming the nuke?”

I sighed, wishing for the love of God that she’d have something more useful to add than her inane fucking questions.

I felt her hand on my shoulder. I tried to shrug it away but couldn’t. Instead, she pulled me backwards and turned me.

“Lieutenant Benjamin Mason, are you under the control of an alien entity?” Her face was dead serious.

“I can assuredly tell you that I am not under control,” I said.

“How do we know he’s not lying?” Stranz asked.

I turned to him, but didn’t say anything.

“Maybe he’s doing what he’s supposed to do,” Sula offered.

“Are you done now?” I asked Ohirra. “I need to finish.”

“And what is it you’re finishing, Mason?” she asked.

I thought for a moment, then pulled free my pistols. I shot her in the faceplate eight times, then spun and shot Sula in the face eight more times.

The others were too stunned to move as I drew my harmonic blade. Stranz was bringing out his minigun. I swung with all my power and hewed down through it with the blade. Then I brought the blade back up, severing Stranz’s right arm just above the elbow, bisecting his sergeant’s stripes.

He screamed.

I screamed.

Sula screamed.

Ohirra kicked out with her leg, catching the side of the blade near the handle. The kick was so strong that I had to let go of the blade or break my wrist trying to hold it.

My bullets hadn’t done any serious damage to their faceplates, other than to crack and pit them. Stranz, on the other hand, was down on the ground trying to keep his blood from gushing out of his arm.

I dove for the blade and grabbed it just as Ohirra lunged for me. I was on my back, the coldness of the concrete seeping through me, chilling my bones, freezing my soul. I held the blade up using two hands, ready to skewer anyone who came near.

Ohirra backed away from me.

I stood unsteadily, the blade suddenly incredibly heavy. I felt my vision dim, then constrict until all I could see were my enemies down a long, thin tunnel. I heard the blade crash to the ground. Then everything turned white—white universe, white noise, white light spearing through me until I became part of the whiteness, the essence of me forever lost. Just when I thought it would never end, a metronomic noise began to leak through the whiteness. A steady, even beat.

Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom.

It came faster and faster and faster.

Tat-Tat-Tat-Tat

Then faster still.

Rattltat-Rattltat-Rattltat

Then finally it was a full on drum roll.
Rattlrattlrattlrattlrattl.

What was it?

Who was it?

Could it be?

Sorry if I’m late to the fight. I had a line of code I had to deal with.

Softer. Softer, please.

Mason, this is Thompson. Can you hear me?
His voice boomed in my head.

Softer,
I begged, my brain mush.

Mason, this is Thompson.

I can’t... wait, what have I done? I attacked—oh, my God!

You were under the control of the Master. You still are.

Then how?

I’ve managed to partition off an area of your brain. What goes on here is for you and I only.

Ohirra, Stranz, are they—

They’re hurting, but I think they’ll understand.

Understand that I tried to kill them? Understand that I was a shit leader who tried to make them dead? How the hell could you understand something like that?

They do, Mason. They understand. They know you wouldn’t do something like that of your own free will. It’s not in your nature.

What do you know about my nature?

That you’re tougher on yourself than anyone could ever be to you. That you’re a born leader and that we’d all follow you into the mouth of Hell.

I let that sink in for a moment, then asked,
You say I’m still under control?

Yes. It wants to study the nuke. It saw in your mind what it could do and wants it rendered inert.

How the hell am I going to get out of this?

I have a plan.

An image began to materialize in front of me. It was Thompson, standing smartly in his Task Force OMBRA uniform, beret canted rakishly.

That’s not how you really are.

No. They’ve removed my arms and legs. I’m bald and wearing a skullcap connected to wires and cables.