Gorgon: An Alex Hunter Novel (23 page)

Matt, Rebecca, and Reece Thompson sat on a bench outside the car hire company’s office in Heraklion, waiting for their vehicle to be brought around.

Rebecca groaned and massaged an ankle. ‘My feet and legs are killing me.’

‘Pilot got us as close as he could without being spotted,’ Thompson said. ‘We’re not exactly clearing customs, are we? It was only a couple of miles – c’mon, toughen up.’

Rebecca blew a raspberry at him and continued to rub.

‘Got it.’ Matt had his computer open on his lap. He turned it around to show them the screen.

Thompson winced. ‘Good Christ, it’s fucking huge. How are we able to see it when it nearly killed that technician?’

‘Major Gerry Harris, Hammerson’s go-to guy for technology, put an application together for us,’ Matt said. ‘And in answer to your question, we’re not seeing it, the computer is. The program washes down the images, deconstructs them, then rebuilds them pixel by pixel, as a mirror image of the real thing.’ Matt moved the volume bar up its scale. ‘One more thing – listen.’

Both Thompson and Rebecca concentrated.

‘That’s sobbing,’ Rebecca said. ‘Turn it up.’ Matt upped the volume to maximum, and Rebecca leaned in a little more. After a second or two she nodded. ‘Now that is weird.’

‘Is it in pain?’ Thompson asked, then shrugged. ‘Could be its language for all we know. Or even how the big bastard shows enjoyment.’

‘Language?’ Matt raised an eyebrow. He swiveled the computer on his lap and started to type furiously.

Thompson looked at his watch, and folded his arms. ‘What I don’t get is why it’s turning people to stone. Is that how it gets its jollies?’

‘We don’t know yet if it’s even aware it’s doing that to us,’ Rebecca said.

Thompson snorted. ‘That’s not what Hunter’s report says. He reckoned it was well aware of him.’

‘Energy,’ Matt said without lifting his eyes from his screen.

Rebecca nodded. ‘Not a bad theory. After all, there are many organisms that absorb energy – plants, algae, bacteria. They convert light energy, normally from the sun, into chemical energy that’s later released to fuel their activities. The energy’s  held inside certain organelles, or in bacteria it’s embedded in the plasma membrane. It’s quite a normal process in nature.’ She looked up at the sky. ‘Right here, on our Earth, the first photosynthetic organisms probably evolved. But what about something very different from us … or from anything that we know, something that evolved differently?’

‘We feed by ingesting sugars and proteins and converting them into energy,’ Matt said. ‘Our guts have evolved a specialized digestion process to allow it. But that doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to obtain energy.’

Thompson grimaced. ‘You think the turning to stone thing might be how Magera feeds? Fuck me, that’s disgusting.’

Matt shrugged. ‘Who knows, ingesting flesh like we do might seem pretty sickening to this thing. But yeah, that’s how it could be getting its energy. Check this out.’

He pressed a key, and discordant musical notes played.

‘Well, that’s annoying,’ Thompson said.

Matt smiled. ‘That’s Magera – I ran it through Musify. It’s an app that turns anything into a song.’

Rebecca grinned. ‘The priest’s song.’

‘I doubt it, but I’ll play around with it a bit more. See if I get anything interesting.’ Matt closed his computer. ‘Heads-up.’

A dented black Land Rover squealed to a halt in front of them in a cloud of black exhaust.

‘Wow.’ Thompson got to his feet.

Rebecca groaned and Matt guffawed.

The driver handed the keys to Thompson, who opened the door for Rebecca. ‘Beats walking – just.’

*

Jack Hammerson watched Walter Gray as he circled the silver skeleton, looking it up and down with his expert eye. This version of the MECH suit was more an exoskeleton, as its armor plating, ribs, and hydraulic pistons fitted close, and needle-like electrodes pierced the wearer’s skin, giving the combat armor immediate response activity. It was a mechanized way to turn a soldier into a super soldier.

Gray had designed and built the MECH suit himself, and Hammerson knew he loved his work. The scientist hit some buttons on a keypad he was holding, and the suit’s arm lifted and its hand opened. He drew a foot-long steel baton from his pocket and placed it within the skeletal fingers. The hand closed around the baton. Gray typed some more and the hand squeezed the toughened steel like it was dough.

‘That’s my bad boy,’ Gray said, and typed again. ‘Now please let it go.’

The hand remained closed. He tried some different instructions, with no result. He tried again, and again, and eventually the hand opened and the crushed bar fell to the ground.

‘Shit, shit, shit.’ Gray scowled at the immobile suit. ‘You’re supposed to hand it to me.’

 ‘Good work anyway, Gray,’ said Hammerson. ‘Can’t wait to get it into the field.

‘I’ve been wanting to talk to you about the field test, Colonel,’ Gray said. ‘How did –’

Jack Hammerson waved him to silence. ‘Walter, I need Gerry Harris’ software uploaded into full-face shielding units for my field team. And I need them fast – all on a jet in an hour.’

Gray half-saluted. ‘Yes, sir, I can do that. And about the field test – there’s still a few bugs we’re working on, but I’ve been waiting to get your feedback. Any problems so far?’

Hammerson had no idea what he was talking about. ‘Say that again?’

‘The MECH suit – are you having any problems in the field?’

Hammerson felt his temples throb as alarm bells went off in his head. ‘Walter, be absolutely clear now. What the hell are you talking about?’

Gray looked puzzled. ‘You wanted to field-test the suit. So we dispatched one.’

Hammerson grabbed the man’s shoulder. ‘I am
not
field-testing any goddamn suit.’ He couldn’t help yelling the words.

‘But … but
you are.
’ Confusion creased Gray’s forehead. ‘You and General Chilton recently requested a field test on the MECH’s upper-body system. It’s already been delivered.’

Hammerson lowered his head, closed his eyes, and ground his teeth. He drew in a breath and opened his eyes, his calm restored. ‘Walter, please tell me where that combat armor 
was 
delivered?’

‘To the airfield this morning.’

‘And then where?’ Hammerson kept his smile warm.

‘Crete. I have both your and General Chilton’s digital signatures on the order.’

Fucking Crete.
Hammerson closed his eyes again and nodded, working to calm his breathing. Security was only ever as good as the weakest link. He exhaled slowly, knowing they’d been compromised. There were only two countries in the world that could have achieved this sort of penetration – Russia and China. China was expert at industrial espionage, but Russia had the stronger motive … and they had Borshov.

‘Is everything okay?’

Hammerson barely heard Gray’s words as his mind worked furiously.
Borshov in the field in Crete, with a MECH suit. He’d be like a psychopathic tank.
Hammerson had total confidence in the Arcadian and his team, but they were only flesh and blood, and Borshov would be wrapped in steel. And he still had a couple Spetsnaz. Plus, Matt Kearns and Rebecca Watchorn were running around over there too, and Magera was potentially in the vicinity. The odds were rapidly shifting away from the HAWCs.

‘I need another Alex Hunter,’ he whispered.

‘What’s that, sir?’

Hammerson spun around to Gray. ‘Lieutenant Sam Reid is already using a lower-half MECH suit. I want an upper-body unit sent to him immediately.’

Gray shook his head. ‘But the entire suit will be extremely heavy. We’ve mitigated some of the weight ratios with the technology’s own power-assist, but if it were to lose power for any reason, no normal man would be able to move in it. Sam Reid’s a big man, but –’

‘I understand the risk,’ Hammerson said. ‘Upload Gerry’s software into the suit as well, and prepare the package for immediate delivery. We’ve got to drop it in before Greece closes its borders.’

Gray opened his mouth.

‘
That’s an order!
’ Hammerson barked.

Gray flew into action, and Hammerson headed for the elevator. He needed to let Alex and his HAWCs know that Borshov had just scaled up his offensive capabilities – all courtesy of their own weapons lab.

*

Alex tossed the rolled-up parachute to Sam, who squeezed it into a tiny ball and buried it, dropping a flat stone over the top. Alex edged down into the ditch and dragged a coffin-sized crate out of the scrub, then used his fingers to pry the nailed lid open. Inside was what looked like half a metal skeleton with a molded helmet.

‘Compliments of the Hammer,’ Alex said, and dug deeper. In smaller compartments there were additional helmets, each named and undoubtedly tailored to size. Alex lifted his head and looked over the countryside. ‘Sam, take over.’

He walked a few paces, stopped, and looked back along the shoreline. A sensation of foreboding reached up the back of his neck. He concentrated, staring for miles along the rocky coast, then slowly scanning the scrub of olive trees, and the roadway in both directions. There was nothing in sight, but Alex knew there soon would be. The same desolation and loneliness he’d felt out in the Turkish desert had returned. He recognized the emotions because they mirrored his own, but magnified a thousand-fold.

Alex stood frozen as his mind turned inward. He saw Aimee holding the boy, Joshua. The kid turning in her arms to smile and wave at him – the pair of them getting smaller and smaller as they walked into the distance.

‘Boss.’ Sam tossed him a helmet and Alex spun to catch it.

Sam handed out the rest of the kit. ‘Franks, Rogers.’ He smiled. ‘Even a gift for my big English friend.’ He tossed Jackson a helmet.

‘My lucky day,’ Jackson said, turning the full-face gear over in his hands.

‘It’ll never go over that big ugly melon,’ Sam said with a grin, and Jackson gave him the finger.

Alex examined the helmet, then walked back over to look inside the crate. All that was left was the skeleton, labeled for Sam. Hammerson had told Alex why he’d sent it – ‘to even the playing field’ he’d said.

‘Uncle, you get first prize,’ Alex said. ‘The rest is all yours.’

Sam grunted as he tried to lift out the suit, even though he was a huge man and one of the strongest HAWCs ever. The machine-tooled super-alloy frame weighed in at over 200 pounds.

‘Need a hand?’ Alex asked.

‘I got this, boss,’ Sam wheezed, his face beet-red. ‘Damn, it’s stuck.’

‘Probably lashed down. Turn around, I’ll put it on you.’

Sam turned, and Alex pulled one side of the crate away. The suit looked like a large backpack, with a network of rods, pipes, and tubes running over and around the shoulders and chest, giving it the look of metallic footballer’s body armor.

Alex picked it up, barely straining. ‘Guess it’s gonna work in tandem with the technology you’re already wearing.’

Sam nodded. ‘That’s the plan.’

He took off his shirt to reveal huge bull-like muscles bunched beneath scarred and tattooed flesh. He planted his legs and braced himself as Alex placed the suit over his shoulders, then worked his arms into the metal framework sleeves, and his fingers into the metallic gloves. He attached it to the lower suit and powered it up. The skeletal framework gripped and tightened along his torso and arms.

Sam rolled his shoulders. ‘Still experimental. I guess I’m its first real field test.’ He looked over his shoulder at Alex. ‘If it explodes, make sure you pass on my less than positive feedback to Walter Gray.’

‘You got it,’ Alex said. ‘But I’ll give him one star for at least making it look cool.’

 Sam snorted, and began to insert the electrode needles into the muscle fibers along his lower spine and arms. They’d tap into the nerves, making the assisting mechanics part of his body’s nervous system and immediately responsive.

Once the suit was fully in place, it was self-supporting, using its own biometric-assisted power used to sustain the weight of the super-alloy frame. It was still heavy though – Sam could barely move. He looked like a cross between an old-style gladiator and an android.

He sucked in a deep breath. ‘Boss, you’ll have to give me a hand with this last bit.’

He motioned to a small plate dangling at his neck, with eight one-inch pins sticking out from what look like a microprocessor chip the size of a matchbook.

‘Into the skull at the base of the medulla oblongata?’ Alex said.

‘You got it.’

Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘Need something to bite down on?’

‘Borshov’s throat?’ Sam guffawed and then shook his head, staring straight forward. ‘Do it.’

Alex didn’t hesitate, knowing the big man wouldn’t even blink as he pushed the pins into the skin at the base of his skull. There was a second of resistance and then Sam exhaled.

‘That’s got it.’ He grinned and nodded. ‘Ha, light as a feather now.’

He lifted his arms, now wrapped in a bodywork of armor plating and tubes. The movement was smooth and fast. He turned his hands over, then made fists.

‘Looking good,’ Alex said, walking around him.

Casey Franks grinned. ‘Man, do I want one of those.’

Alex bent, picked up a fist-sized rock and tossed it to Sam, who spun and caught it with lightning-quick reflexes. He held the rock up and, with a faint whine of electronics, closed his fist tight. The rock pulverized.

Sam winked. ‘Look out, Arcadian, you got competition.’

‘About time, big guy.’ Alex looked at his watch. ‘Let’s move. We need to get to Heraklion ASAP, and that’s about a hundred miles.’

Sam put his biological suit top back on over the MECH framework. The material stretched to fit, but looked lumpy in places.

Jackson held up the helmet he’d been given. ‘What do we do with these? They’re fucking blacked out.’

Alex placed his over his head – it covered everything except his mouth. The visor slid down, and he pressed a button to darken it, turning it into a solid mass. He held his hand up in front of it, and saw an outline appear, then his entire hand, but a little less detailed than the real thing. Gerry Harris’ software was using microprocessors to capture, analyze, and digitally rework the image, then instantly deliver a reproduction.