Ninth City Burning (54 page)

That stops him. His yellow smile stretches out again, and he lowers back onto the couch, blue eyes burning. “You know, Jax, I suppose you're right. Why prolong the inevitable, eh? I've enjoyed our conversation, really, but the time has come to bring it to an end.”

Maybe he's waiting for me to say something back, but instead I take the whole tray of water and cookies and milk and throw it at him. Then I kick over the table. If this were a normal house, one I could leave and actually hope to get away, that's exactly what I'd do. But this is a mijmere, and I can't escape by running. So I don't. I make a dash for his desk.

I get about halfway around the couch before he grabs me and slams me to the ground. He's insanely strong—stronger than anyone should be.

“Such awful manners,” the Zero snarls. He doesn't sound polite anymore. Behind him, the fire roars and blazes, turning him into a reddish shadow. “I'd hoped to conclude our acquaintance in a civilized manner, Jax, but it seems quick and dirty will have to do.” Leaning beside the hearth is a heavy metal rod with a handle on one end and a spike on the other. The Zero grabs the handle and swings the rod back, ready to bash me with it.

But before he can bring the rod down, there's a loud screeching sound,
a mess of musical notes. When the Zero turns to look, something thuds into his stomach. He lurches forward, and whatever it is hits him again, colliding with his knee. When he stumbles, I see Naomi standing over him, holding her fiddle case.

I think she must have hurt the Zero pretty badly, but he's more surprised than anything. He whirls on her, letting out a growl that doesn't sound human at all, and swings his metal rod at her head. She blocks it with her fiddle case, but the force of it knocks her to the floor. The Zero swings again, and this time he catches her on the arm, making her cry out in pain.

“So very sad,” the Zero says, though he sounds extremely pleased with himself.

Naomi raises her case to block his next attack, but the rod smashes straight through. The case shatters, and she disappears with a little musical twang. Her Theme has been stopped, and her mijmere has collapsed. To this Zero, she's completely powerless. She could be anywhere in his mijmere now, or anything: a ceramic doll on the mantel, an image on a piece of paper. I have maybe a few seconds before he kills her.

“Not so gallant anymore, are we, Jax?” the Zero says, turning toward me. He must mean because I let Naomi take him on all by herself. But he didn't know what I was doing all that time. When he sees me, his smile clenches tight.

Naomi gave me a chance, and as soon as the Zero had his back turned, I went for it. I knew if I was wrong, we'd both be dead like
that
, but it was our best hope of getting out of this alive, and anyway I'm not wrong. I grabbed all the papers from the Zero's desk, and now I'm standing in front of the fireplace, with every one of them piled in my arms.

He forces a laugh. “What do you think you're doing, Jax?”

“Just going to burn a few papers. Too much clutter in here, right?”

“Dear me, Jax, don't be foolish. That won't—”

Maybe he's about to say burning his papers won't do anything, but I never find out, because right then I heave them all into the fire. The whole stack lands right on the burning logs, and a few flaming pages flutter out like fiery bats. The Zero lunges for them, but before he can touch even one, the whole room vanishes, burning away like just another piece of paper, and the next thing I know I'm back in my stadium, the one where I went when this battle began.

“Whew. That was close,” says the Kid. He's munching peanuts from a
bag. Down on the field, the game is well under way. The lights are up, and in the distance, I can see colorful explosions—though not like something from a battle. These are more like happy explosions.

“They're called fireworks,” the Kid says, sounding a lot like the voice in my head that told me about typewriters and televisions.

“Naomi!” I shout. “Where is she?” For a second I'd forgotten about the whole fight with the Zero.

“Right there.” The Kid points down toward the field. Naomi is off to one side, sitting on a stretcher. A man in white is wrapping her arm in bandages, and another is holding a cup of water for her to drink. Her head is bandaged, too, but she doesn't look badly hurt. She sees me and nods, smiling. “She'll be fine,” the Kid says, and I know he's right. Once her mijmere comes back, she'll be able to heal herself pretty well, but until then this is about as good as I can do for her.

“What about the Zero—the man from the library?”

The Kid only grins and nods toward the concrete beneath our seats, where he has a cockroach trapped beneath a clear plastic cup. “Pests,” he says. “Huge problem around here. We'd better take care of this one.”

Without his Theme, the Zero's mijmere has collapsed. He's only a bug to me now. But for some reason, I don't want to just squash him—or have the Kid do it, which would be almost the same thing.

That Zero was terrible. He would have killed me and Naomi both. If I let him escape, he'll try again. But he was right about one thing: We don't really know anything about the Valentines. I wonder if anyone's ever tried really
talking
to a Zero. What if, instead of killing him, I found a way to capture him? We could learn from him. Wouldn't that be better?

But while I'm thinking about all of this, a heavy black boot stomps down on the plastic cup, crushing the bug-Zero underneath. I look from the boot up to the person who's just jumped over the seat beside me. It's Fontana Malandeera. She's in heavy, dark clothes, and there's soot all over her face. She twists her foot, grinding the cup into the concrete. “Let's go, Jax,” she says. “This fight isn't over yet.”

W
e're all alone out here. Our last contact with IMEC-1 came in a rush of radio traffic, a single message repeated on every available frequency:
All units, return to home
. After that, everything went to shit.

The 126th was tasked, along with the rest of Sixth and two other cohorts from Ninth Legion, with isolating and neutralizing a full wave of Valentine fighters. The enemy outnumbered us five to one, with four Zeros to our single fontana, but with IMEC-1 behind us, the odds were solidly in our favor. Beyond that, our source was Fontana Nellope, one of Ninth Legion's best. We already had two Zeros down, and quite a nice panic under way in the Valentine ranks, when our artillery support abruptly dried up. Without the constant hammering of ordnance to keep her opponents in line, Nellope was quickly surrounded, forced into a fight on the enemy's terms with no prospect of retreat, and all of us with her.

Our one and only goal now is to get Fontana Nellope free of this battle, and that means helping her defeat the two Zeros hemming her in. Nellope is an experienced and formidable fighter—in her three tours at the Front, she's defeated no fewer than ten Zeros in single combat—but that doesn't mean taking on two sources at once will be a simple matter, not when they know how to use the numerical imbalance to their advantage. The whole of Sixth Cohort will seem like little more than a cloud of buzzing mosquitoes to any of them. But mosquitoes can be distracting, and for Fontana Nellope, some strategic distraction could mean the difference between triumphing over these Zeros and being snuffed out. If we can divert either of her adversaries for even a fraction of a second, it could give her the opportunity she needs. That means we have to try.

I've led the 126th on three runs so far. Three steep dives over battling
sources circling one another in a dance like something halfway between stalking predators and orbiting moons. Each attack lasted only minutes, but in that time we've taken more losses than in the entire preceding battle. Hitting a Zero means flying low and fast over a sea of roiling energy, where one thoughtless wave can crush an equus like a cracker. On our first run, Koleg and Midmurro took hard lashes that left them clinging to the emergency safety gear inside equi suddenly reduced to dead husks. On the next, a swell of stars rose and completely swept away three more of us. Uo, Pelashwa, and Rachel—all of them gone before anyone could react. We looked for them on the next pass, but found only a few drifting shards of armor.

The 126th is holding together. My equites are as frosty and precise as when we sortied from Earth—more so, if anything, since we reached the tipping point toward mayhem—but they're balanced on a knife's edge, fueled by a cocktail of training and determination fortified with adrenaline. We've never lost one of our own before, and here we are down three. As we circle through the storm of fighters—both legionary and Valentine—seeking our next avenue of attack, I can't help wondering how long we can keep this up.

The time to move will be just as Nellope's orbit reaches its farthest separation from the Valentine Zeros. It isn't an easy point to spot, but I have to trust myself. There are people who claim they can tell one source from another simply by the look of an individual mijmere, but I've never quite mastered the technique. Fortunately, sources project a wide variety of radiation aside from visible light—everything from heat to noise to high-energy gamma rays—and each has a kind of signature, a combination of patterns and energies unique to that source. It isn't quite as reliable or consistent as a fingerprint, but it's a dependable enough way of spotting our own. Fontana Nellope profiles powerfully in hard X-rays and magnetic pulses, and through FireChaser's sharpened senses, I pick her out easily as she draws away from the two Zeros, one of which shows up mostly in infrared, the other in microwaves with ripples of electricity. When I judge the moment is right, I order the 126th to draw weapons and fall in.

We've covered roughly half the distance to the target before resistance begins in earnest. A swarm of Type 5s—the style sometimes called waspies for their resemblance to gigantic versions of stinging insects, but more formally designated as Mid-Range, Mid-Power Interceptors, or MMIs—
banks out of the melee and takes up a parallel course. I bring the 126th in fast. MMIs can be dangerous if they get you in their sights, but they aren't made for close combat. Once we lay into them with our WhiteLances, there isn't much more to say. The fight slows us down, but we come out well enough: all eight remaining equi still combat-capable. Iftito loses ThunderWalking's right leg from the shin down, and Xempa takes some damage to LoyalShield's off hand, but it isn't enough to hamper our mission. You don't need legs to fly, and one-and-a-half hands is plenty to swing a 'Lance.

An encounter with a second drove of MMIs—a variation more like dragonflies in shape than wasps this time—brings an unexpected boon. As we're closing to engage, another escadrille of seven equi swings in ahead of us, catching the MMIs in an impromptu pincer maneuver. They're from Third Cohort, flying big A-12 Destriers, and when I contact their dek over DS, he suggests we team up for the coming run.

They fall in behind, guarding our formation's rear as we make our approach on the first of the two Zeros. I remind my 'drille to set their WhiteLances to maximum extension—no sense in getting closer to a Zero than we have to. The Destriers from Third do the same, and together we cut downward into the Zero's surface, raking it with our blades and adding a liberal peppering from our S-Cannons.

Our combined efforts, easily enough to level a small neighborhood, can't be more than a sharp pinch to this Zero, but we're unpleasant enough to draw some notice. The boiling black surface bulges, and we pull away just as it whips toward us—a careless swat that could have wiped us out completely.

Keeping formation with the Destriers from Third, I lead the 126th into the next part of our run. We're all set for a repeat performance of our last successful attack when I catch sight of a string of Valentine fighters sweeping in behind us. Bulky, five-armed Type 6s, a profile usually designated as Heavy Breach Troops, or HBTs. They can cause havoc among unsupported infantry, using their speed and mass to smash whole lines of assault platforms, but they're hardly a threat to a solid complement of equi—or so I think, until an HBT latches onto one of our Destriers and pulls it down into the Zero we'd been about to hit. A geyser of energy stabs out from the Zero's surface, and in a blink, both HBT and Destrier are gone.

I've never seen anything like this from Romeo before, but it doesn't come as a complete surprise. Valentine fighters will self-destruct just to
avoid capture; a suicide attack is only a few steps away. Romeo has us well enough outnumbered that he could trade fighters one-for-one and still come out of this battle with a full-sized regiment left over. Those HBTs wouldn't stand a chance against us in normal combat, but they only need to stay alive long enough to drag us into the nearest mijmere. Even after we aim our S-Cannons back and begin shooting them down, the HBTs keep coming.

The Destriers from Third fall with sickening speed. A few turn to fight, but the HBTs carry so much momentum that even badly damaged, they're enough to drag an equus the relatively short distance to either of the two Zeros. Only one Destrier makes it out alive, when a stray explosion leaves it disabled and too far away for the HBTs to hit without giving up any chance at the 126th—a far juicier target.

I have to act now. If the 126th doesn't change tactics, we're going to end up like our comrades from Third. Scenarios flash through my mind as I run down our options. There aren't many. If we stand our ground, the HBTs will overwhelm us. If we keep running, they'll catch us—our Coursers are fast, but once those HBTs get moving, they're faster. We've got to outrun them or fight, and we can't outrun them.

I instruct the 126th to prepare for running combat. The longer we keep moving, the better chance we have of getting clear of those Zeros.
Don't let the HBTs latch onto you,
I tell them—obvious advice, but I've found in situations like this, the obvious is usually the first thing you forget.

The HBTs swing onto an intercept course, spreading out to better avoid our fire and put themselves in position to surround and envelop us. They've just begun to overtake us when my radio spits out a spray of static, and I hear a woman's voice say, “I believe now is the time to make your stand, man.”

At the same moment, three HBTs burst apart in a spray of purple gwayd, and several more shudder beneath the impacts of cannon fire. A group of equi has hit the HBTs from behind, raking through them in a high-speed dive. I give the order to attack, and the 126th charges the suddenly disrupted formation of HBTs with renewed determination.

It isn't just that we've seen the chance to come out of this alive. There's more to this rescue than that. I have to jettison some past assumptions, but I realize now the interference from three battling sources could easily have disrupted attempts to locate our lost 'drille-mates. And there's no
mistaking the three equi that have just joined the fight: I'd know Pelashwa's FallingLeaf and Uo's SunOnWaves anywhere, and there isn't an equus in the Legion I'd confuse with the X-2020.

I have to give it to Kizabel: That toy of hers can really move. It's fluid, balletic, and blindingly quick, so that from one attack to the next, the HBTs hardly have time to react before they're coming apart at the seams. Rachel's fighting style is more brutal, more reckless than the tersely efficient technique they teach at the Academy, but it's effective enough—graceful even, when fitted to the liquid speed of the X-2020. But it isn't until we've nearly finished with the HBTs that I see what that speed can really do.

Between our resurrected equi catching those HBTs off guard and the boost they gave to our numbers, the situation has turned firmly in favor of the 126th. It isn't our most elegant fight, but there's no room for finesse here. We've lingered too long in the vicinity of hostile sources, and it won't be long before we draw their serious consideration—or, more likely, end up heedlessly obliterated when their battle with Fontana Nellope resumes. What matters now is dispatching these HBTs and vacating the area as soon as possible. No time to worry about losing points for style. We've culled almost enough of the grapplers to be confident of a clean getaway when a savage string of curses erupts over DS. It's Sensen; an HBT has latched onto her equus, directly over ShadowSinger's core, and begun dragging her down.

I've been cutting my way through a pesky cluster of HBTs, and, by the time I disengage, two more have landed on Shadow, swallowing up both of her legs and one of her arms. Already I'm afraid they've taken her too far for me to do any good. The full kinetic force of an HBT is enough to overpower even the most determined equus; three HBTs together can push a Courser faster than I can fly. I tuck into a dive anyway. I won't leave Sen to burn out if there's even a small chance I can make a difference. I've only begun gathering speed, however, when a blur of white streaks past. Ahead, I see the X-2020 plummeting after ShadowSinger.

Sensen doesn't let the fact that she has absolutely no chance of breaking loose keep her from fighting back. She strikes out furiously with Shadow's free arm, an effort that does little aside from adding topspin to her descent. With a final twist, Sensen and the three HBTs plunge the last of the distance toward the nearest of the two Zeros.

The grappler holding Singer's legs hits the mijmere first, dousing the surrounding space in purple gwayd, followed by a splash of red-orange as
the Zero swallows up Shadow's lower half. I wait for the next burst of gwayd, the one that will signal Shadow's core being crushed and Sensen with it. Instead, there's a flash of white as the X-2020 crashes into the knot of HBTs.

Rachel is not gentle with her rescue. She cuts hard into the HBT wrapped around ShadowSinger's core, slicing off two of its five arms and a good chunk of Shadow's armor as well. But it gets the job done: The HBT goes cartwheeling away, gushing gwayd. Before the remaining HBT—the one holding Shadow's arm—can react, Rachel swings her WhiteLance up, severing the entire arm at the shoulder. The grappler, whose strength had been fully committed to winning that arm, springs free, the force of its pull propelling it directly into the mijmere below.

One arm holding ShadowSinger's dismembered frame, the X-2020 climbs away from the Zero's roiling surface. Close behind, the HBT that lost two arms to Rachel's first attack comes spinning back, ready with the other three. Rather than trying to knock the HBT back with her cannon, Rachel lets go of ShadowSinger and tackles it. The two tumble back toward the Zero, already receding as it moves for another bout with Fontana Nellope. It looks as if both the HBT and X-2020 are going into the mijmere, but then they spin, skidding across its surface, both obscured in a spray of purple gwayd until the X-2020 rises, the HBT nowhere in sight, dissolved by the Zero's surface.