It's Hell To Choose (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 9) (30 page)

He looked at the map that had been giving him field input, and more importantly, the location of the package as well. Now, it showed him the locations of the first five bodies that had gone down in a tree cracking fusillade of small metal slivers. They had used rail gun technology to slice his men to shreds.

It had been the first indication that the base was using technology for which he was unprepared. His superiors had been allowed to push him to continue the operation, which was another bad leadership decision in what was becoming a monumental fuck-up.

One ray of light in the murky mess was that their team’s location in the valley appeared to be outside of the signal blocking.

“Dammit!” He exploded again, and no one disagreed with his frustration.

---

There should be something, Michael thought to himself, said of the joy one feels when released to do something you have been honing your skills at for over a thousand years.

With a scream, another man died. The attacking teams were starting to crack. The screams of their comrades dying horribly were affecting their resolution to stay and fight. The deaths didn’t come from bullets or bombs, but were delivered up close and personal. Men suffocating in their own blood or heads cut from bodies would land next to nearby allies.

The smoke bomb coverage they used to try to hide from the defensive fire was now working against them. Lack of visibility meant the source of the screams and location of the killer was a terrifying mystery.

Michael attacked a group of three men surrounding a large bag. Each man faced out from the center where the backpack was lying. One man had his arm behind him, touching the bag.

That was the first arm Michael cut off.

The second man died when four finger-like daggers slashed across his face, leaving his jaw hanging at an odd angle. With the last gurgle of dying breath, his gaze was transfixed on the man with red eyes and glistening fangs.

Michael’s attention switched to the third man, rapidly penetrating his eyeballs with the weapons his hands had become. He pulled his fingers out of the corpse to slice the neck of the still-screaming first man. The hot splash of blood from the slashed throat forever stilled the cries about his missing arm.

“Ah, good times.” He murmured to himself, reliving a thousand years of bloodshed in just a few moments.

Pulling himself together, Michael considered the package.
 
The munitions, Boris called it. He unzipped the bag, and his eyes opened wide. If you were an adult in the last sixty years, you knew what this yellow and black symbol meant.

This bomb was radioactive.

“Aw…Shit.” Michael mumbled, straining to find the one mind that he knew could help him with this problem.

Lance?

Michael?

Yes, I’m outside, and we have a problem.

Go.

I think I found the munition. It is in a bag that had three men surrounding it. It has a radioactive symbol on it.

Well… Fuck. That would be a backpack nuke. Can’t be over a couple of kilotons but it would play fucking havoc in here and up there. Ok, we will get everyone deeper in the mountain.

Can’t have that, Lance. This can go off at any time.

Can you spirit it away?

No, too much metal, so I can’t do that.

Carry it?

Easily.

Ok, there is a valley about a mile to the south by southwest. Get there, drop it in, and get the hell out of there. The blast will be focused by the valley walls, and there is nothing out the end but empty land for twenty miles.

Michael got busy, closing the bag and pulling it onto his shoulders.

Still about twelve combatants active here.

I’ll release Gabrielle to go hunt. She’s been bitching at me this whole battle.

It will be a good killing ground, too much smoke to see each other.

Well, too much smoke for us to see what you have, either.

Ok, tell Bethany Anne I’ll be back.

You tell her when she gets here, Ok?

Deal.

Michael took off running to the South, around the buildings, and up a tree to hurl himself over the defensive perimeter fence. He landed heavily and grunted. Mass was still a bitch. He went through the brush and around the rocks. Just a quarter of a mile further, he crossed the area of a major firefight where the smell of the dead was strong.

Both human and Weres.

He could feel the weight of his years at that moment. The joys and the sorrows. He knew the future was going to be different and considered if maybe that future would be better without him.

Without him to bring questions to Bethany Anne’s legitimacy.

Then, he smiled.

Because even now, in the middle of this run, he realized he could feel her breath down his neck and across his chest. He might be concerned of what the future would bring to a man fighting his own demons, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t honor his promise to her.

So, he redoubled his effort. Coming around the corner, he turned violently, and one of the shoulder straps burst. His hand tightened in response, but it threw him off balance, and he swung around to tumble down a short embankment to crash into a tree that was on its side. Michael spit as the pungeant smell of the dirt got into his nostrils and gritty sand in his mouth.

He stood, moved the remaining strap across his chest, grabbed the broken strap for leverage, and started running again.

He would not fail in his honor; he would see this base safe.

He could smell the valley before seeing it. The trees and bushes living and breathing in the little valley were somewhat different than those he was traveling through.

—

“Sir!” Captain Julien turned around to see a dot suddenly appear close to them, “The bomb is coming this way!”

“What?!” Julien shoved a small table out of his way as he rushed towards the map display.

“Detonate!” He turned towards the manual detonation and pulled the key off a necklace and jammed it into the manual override. He started plugging in the twelve-digit code and forced himself to go as slow as he needed.

Michael broke through the treeline and yanked the bomb off of his back. Ten yards from the edge, he twisted around to gain momentum and slid as he hurled the bag into the valley. He checked the bomb was going to make it into the valley, and turned back towards the base and turned to myst.

As Michael changed, the valley erupted in flame and fire.

Atlantic Ocean - 200 Miles West off the coast of France

The speaker was blaring across the ship, “Attention all passengers, attention all passengers. The ship is under attack - the ship is under attack. Please remain inside - Please remain inside.”

“Why are they letting us stay outside?” Sia asked Mark as they hurried to a better location for viewing the Polarus and Ad Aeternitatem. Their position on the elevated deck of the Consanesco provided a superior view. “And where is Giannini?”

“Right behind you!” A voice sounded from behind Sia.

Sia turned and smiled at the Central American reporter. “What took you so long?”

“Making deals!” Giannini replied, “If you want to share, we can go seventy-thirty to sell this to other markets.”

Mark grumped, “I’m exclusive.”

“I’m hourly,” Sia volunteered, “but this equipment isn’t mine.”

Giannini pulled up a Canon XA35 with dual wireless lavaliers, “Some of the latest optical zoom and optical stabilization, four hours video storage time and I’ve got another pack of supplies.”

Sia turned to Mark, “That camera’s better than this one, I’ll get better footage.”

Mark turned to Giannini. He wanted to work with her, but he had a contract…

She noticed his indecision, “We share footage when neither of us is on screen. We share Sia. I’ll record into a different recording device for audio so your feed will be straight to your bosses. You have the U.S., but I get to license to the rest of the World. I’ll provide a 30% cut for you two on anything I license.”

“Marrrrrrrk” Sia whined, “I want to use that camera you bastard!”

Mark grinned. If he wanted a decent framing shot this whole episode, he had to agree so Sia could use the camera Sia wanted.

He reached over to Giannini, “Deal!” He smiled. She shook his hand and unslung her camera case.

“Why don’t you have a camera person?” Mark asked her.

“No one I trust enough, personally. Bethany Anne is a stickler for honor, and I’ve not found anyone who would measure up.”

“You know her well?” asked Sia, “We met for a few minutes at their base, but that’s all of our interaction with her.”

Giannini considered her response for a moment and admitted, “Yes, I met her a long time ago in Costa Rica, before all of this stuff blew up.”

“What?” Mark asked, “You’re kidding me, right?”

Sia was busy pulling out the wires, plugging in the XLR connections, and laying out the three spare batteries, “You seem pretty well supplied here.”

Giannini ignored Mark’s question, “Papa was always…”

Mark jumped in, “Prepared? Like the Boy Scouts?”

Giannini looked at him, “Not in Costa Rica, no. Papa was always a pack rat, so I hoard stuff and I figured I might need all of this. You never know what you are going to get into with Bethany Anne and her team.”

“No kidding…” Sia murmured, more to herself. “Mark, I don’t care what you need to tell those suits back home, but they better work a deal to keep access to this camera if they want the best footage. That old thing they provided me sucks."

Mark considered Sia’s comment. “If I can cut a deal with home, how about you get 30% of licensing for sales inside the US for the 30% worldwide, and we share all content between both markets?”

Giannini stuck her hand out, “Deal.” Mark smiled as they shook. Giannini turned to Sia, “And I’ll pay you the same hourly rate plus a bonus if we sell this footage. But,” Giannini smiled at Sia, “I have to look good!”

“Oh my God,” Mark moaned, “I’m being schooled already.”

Sia grinned as she put the camera on her shoulder, “Kiss and make up you two, and let’s record history.” She added as she took her eye off the camera and stared at Mark, “That was figurative, not literal.”

—

“You are to incapacitate all members of the two superyachts; we will leave the Consanesco alone. Our inside person says all people to be rendered help are taken from the Consanesco over to the Ad Aeternitatem and Polarus. They go under, wake up in some type of hospital room, and leave groggy. Then back to the Consanesco to finish their recovery. Nothing on the Consanesco but beds and recuperation support.”

Shun nodded his understanding and took off the video helmet. They were speeding towards the two boats. His ship was a Houbei Class 022 Fast Attack Craft with two missile launchers. It was 43 meters long, making it significantly less than half the size of the Polarus and about eighty feet shorter than the Ad Aeternitatem. However, when his missiles fired off, size wasn’t going to be an issue.

He had four attack teams ready to jump into action, all culled from mercenaries around the world. No one would complain that this was a biased hiring effort. If you had the skills, the country you came from was irrelevant. Well, so long as it wasn’t China. He was the only member from his country, and that was on purpose.

There were three additional craft, carrying both mercenaries and scientists. They were charged with finding the most interesting tools and immediately spiriting them back to their command ship, the Jìnbù.

Look like pirates, act like pirates, steal like pirates. Well, Shun agreed, they were pirates he supposed. They were on the high seas, and they were looking to take stuff from someone else.

How very seventeenth century of them.