Hard Drop (27 page)

Flip grabbed Shelley’s arm roughly and pulled him along.
 

“Try to keep up, Doctor.” Flip said, through her teeth, keeping a firm grip on the pistol.
 

“I can handle myself, girl.” He spat back and ripped his arm away, a little too loudly with too much force. The rebels within earshot looked up quickly, bristling at the sound of struggle. Hog gripped her machine gun tightly, waiting for the onslaught, but it did not come.

The group had made its way to the bottom of the slope Flip had descended earlier, and Tyco broke out of cover from behind MAP-11. He turned cautiously past the checkpoint that marked the bottom of the long stone ramp leading up the hill, looking up towards the truck just visible in the creek bed at the top. Flip hadn’t lied; it was barely in one piece, but to Tyco, it could have been a tank. There were rebels on the hillside above as well, but not as many as below, on the plateau. If they could make it halfway up the hill, the numbers would be about even, and they would have a level chance of making it.
 

“Not far now – “ Tyco tapped in quietly.

He was interrupted by a massive explosion, larger by far than any that had come before. A shockwave rolled through the ground, shaking the team and nearly throwing them off their feet.
 

Tyco turned as if stung, scanning the horizon for the source of the blast.
 

He found it immediately, at the far end of the city: a small mushroom cloud, rising high into the sky. A tactical nuclear device. Not a large one, but enough to make things dicey in a hurry.
 

“Guess the pregame’s over.” Chip griped, pushing steadily up the hill.

But Shelley was stuck, rooted to the spot and staring at the mushroom cloud open-mouthed. He watched as the shockwave rippled out and smashed through the city, flattening everything in its path. He knew the theory, of course, understood it inside and out, but seeing it in unguarded practice left him breathless. His legs shook beneath him unsteadily, and he stared at the team as they continued nonchalantly up the hill, stared at MAP-11 as he backed towards them, moving as if none of them had seen the nuclear device in the near distance.
 

“I’m going back.” He announced hoarsely, the image of the mushroom cloud still clear in his eyes. If the team heard him, they didn’t show it. Shelley gritted his teeth furiously. He held the pistol high overhead and pulled the trigger with spiteful emphasis.
 

The hammer turned over with a dull click, never connecting with the bullet in the chamber. The safety was still on.
 

Chip recognized the sound and shook his head derisively without looking back. He kept silent, heading up the hill. It was too late in the day for cutting remarks, and anyway he had nothing to say to a man who couldn’t fire a pistol. Not that Shelley was his responsibility in the first place.

“Commander.” Shelley said, louder. “I know you hear me.” He waited for a response. Still it did not come. “We’re going back.”

Tyco answered him without turning from his path. “It’s too late for that, Doctor.” He called out. “We’re past the point of return.”

“I outrank you!” Shelley fired back. “You’re nothing but a grunt,
cannon fodder,
but I am vital to the interests of the Admiralty! One word from me, and you never existed!” He was beside himself now, in a dull panic, shaking and apoplectic with rage.
 

Tyco turned to Shelley at last, smiling easily. “On paper,” He answered. “We already don’t. You’re on my ground, with my team, and we’re getting the hell out of this place.” He turned away, pressing on staunchly, willing Shelley to follow with everything he was worth.
 

“No.” Shelley answered, his voice ringing out defiantly in the silence between impacts. “I won’t allow it.”
 

Tyco’s face fell, and his remaining hope with it. The rebels stirred at his feet. Already frightened by the falling missiles, they didn’t have much to lose. Only MAP-11 kept them in place, and he stared them down now, sweeping his rifle over the hostile crowd, reminding them what they had to fear.

The rebels fell silent, temporarily intimidated into submission. Tyco quickened his pace up the slope, waving the team onwards.
 

“You hear me?” Shelley shouted, raising his voice. It cracked as he fought for breath. “I won’t allow it!”
 

The team continued up the hill, following Tyco without looking at the meltdown behind them. MAP-11 was caught between the team and Shelley, swiveling his head from one to the other. For the first time since leaving the facility, he looked uncertain, moving slowly to keep pace with Tyco and his group. Flip alone stayed behind with the doctor, bringing up a nervous rearguard. She slipped the safety off of her rifle quietly, staring down at the silent ranks of rebels they had already waded through, making sure they stayed in place.
 

Shelley watched the team walk away, his face contorting in fear as they left him at the mercy of the restless crowd. Shaking with desperate anger, he lowered his pistol, bringing it to rest against his temple. He turned bodily towards Tyco, forcing himself to ignore the restless rebels surrounding him.
 

“I am Dr. Ethan Shelley.” He said, fighting for calm with every breath, and losing. “I am vital to this mission and to the Admiralty’s interests.” The words rang out grimly in the sudden, windless calm. “And I demand that we go back to safety now.” And then he added, more plaintively, “We have to go back!”
 

Tyco paused and stared down at the frantic doctor, feeling the countdown running down, feeling the stares of a hundred rebel soldiers. They were within sight of the goal, had a fighting chance for the first time on this awful mission; and now the man they had been sent to save was throwing it all away. Chip laughed dully beside him, grimly amused by the hopeless absurdity of their situation.
 

“Don’t worry, Cap,” He said, “He can’t work the safety – “

Shelley flicked the switch in response, gripping the pistol barrel tightly. The gun was now live, their mission resting on the slightest nervous twitch of Shelley’s finger on the trigger.
 

“Never mind.” Chip said quietly.
 

Tyco’s face fell as he came face-to-face yet again with the ugly reality of human failing. “What’s the matter, Doc?” He said, trying hard to make light of the disaster below him. “Don’t think it’s worth it any more?”

Shelley stared back hatefully and adjusted his grip, placing the barrel snugly against his temple. “No,” he said. “It’s worth too much to waste now on your reckless and idiotic leadership.”

Tyco took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “And what do you think your superiors have to say about this at the Admiralty?” He said, condescendingly. “What do you think they’ll say when they hear your failure prevented us from finishing our mission? Because, make no mistake, we are getting out of here, with or without you.” The words had no effect, and Tyco took a deep breath, playing the last card he had available. “Look at him.” He said, and pointed at MAP-11. “He’s perfect, right? Your blameless creation. He isn’t failing now.”

Shelley hesitated only an instant before responding.
 

“Incorrect.” He said, and pulled the microchip from his pocket with his free hand, holding it high into the air above him. “He cannot fail because he will do whatever I tell him to. And I say we turn back.” And he shifted the pistol to just below his chin. “Now.”
 

“Come on, Doctor.” Tyco coaxed, trying to make the words sound anything but furiously condescending. “You don’t want to do this.”
 

“You’re right.” Shelley answered. “I don’t.” He lifted his pistol again, raising it and aiming directly at Tyco, his arm shaking as he extended it. The two men stared at each other across the short distance. Tyco’s jaw tightened, his hands tense and ready on his rifle. His eyes bored into Shelley’s skull, hard and uncompromising. Shelley took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I’m going to count to three, and then – “

A muffled shot rang out, cutting Shelley off in mid-sentence. A small, thumb-sized hole appeared in his forehead, the blood dripping down across his face.
 

He staggered, tottered, and then dropped to his knees. He opened his mouth in a groan, attempting to speak and coughing up blood instead. His knees gave way and he pitched forwards, slumping bodily onto the dust and grime of the highway.
 

Flip stood over the body, gun smoking lazily. She looked up at Tyco with a thin smile on her face. “My mission never included him.” She explained casually, with a note of repressed triumph in her voice.

NINETEEN: THE HOPELESS AND THE DAMNED

“
Your
mission?” Tyco said in shocked confusion.
 

Flip looked up as she kneeled over Shelley’s corpse, prying open his fists to reach their contents. She held his gaze steadily, staring back at him with the same calm killer’s eyes she had worn in the jump bay, and it was clear the inexperienced greenness she had shown had been little more than an act. “Need to know cuts both ways, Cap.” She said pointedly, and stood, holding Shelley’s pistol and microchip.
 

“And if I decided to shoot in there - ?” Tyco nodded towards MAP-11 and the facility.

“I would have killed you where you stood.” She answered sweetly, moving quickly past the checkpoint and heading up the slope towards them, leaving Shelley’s corpse behind.

“Oh, hell no - !” Hog muttered, staring at Flip with both admiration and disgust. “You were going to play us like that?!”
 

Flip opened her mouth to respond, but a guttural growl from MAP-11 interrupted her, shaking through the creature and across the asphalt below her. He had seen Shelley lying in the dirt, the puddle of blood around his head. He turned, spinning, sweeping his gun in a vicious arc as Flip came alongside him. It caught her arm and sent her sprawling, flying up the hillside and landing with a hard thud.
 

The microchip flew from her hand and slid along the concrete ramp. Flip scrambled after it, hearing the grinding concrete as MAP-11 wheeled around behind her, groaning as he leveled his gun and flicked his safety, his armored finger coiling around the trigger.

Her fingers curled around the chip. She smashed the bright red control button desperately, over and over. Her whole body tensed as she imagined the fingers curling on the triggers, the bullets flying towards her, the soft, scything impact as they cut through the thin armor around her neck and plunged through her skin, turning out the lights with brutal finality.
 

But they didn’t come.

Hardly daring to believe her luck, she rose and turned slowly to face the creature, willing herself to look him square in the face.

The chip had done its job. The living, breathing colossus towered over her, frozen in place, armor locked, his finger still gripping the trigger.
 

Flip sighed in weary relief. She turned back to pick up the pistol from the hard concrete, and stopped short. She found herself staring into the bloodshot eyes of a kneeling, snarling rebel, almost feral in his fury.
 

“Fuck.” She muttered, under her breath, considering the horrible distance between the pistol and her free hand, calculating how quickly she would have to move. The odds weren’t in her favor.

The soldier moved first, feet flying as they scraped against the ground, trying to push himself to full height. His head lifted jerkily, rising just above hers –
 

And exploded in a fine red mist. He was rocked backwards by the force, instantly dead, slamming back against the ground. Flip glanced backwards immediately, looking up and straight into MAP-11’s smoking gun barrel. The distance between her head and the rebel’s had been minute; the bullet had passed within fractions of an inch of her skull. For an instant, she considered that the chip hadn’t worked; that MAP-11 had aimed for her, and missed.
 

But the creature was far from hostile in his movements. He bent low and offered her his free hand, letting his rifle trail away. She hesitated before taking it, scrutinizing him for any sign of his attention. Her side throbbed where she had fallen on the pavement, and she was reluctant to repeat the experience. She took the creature’s hand, at last, and let him pull her roughly to her feet.
 

“What the hell was that?” Hog called nervously, coming down towards her at a trot. “Why’d he stop like that?”
 

“We thought you were dead.” Chip joined in, though it wasn’t clear from his expression that that would not have been a good thing.

“Behavioral modification trigger.” She said, holding up the microchip. “Works like a shock collar.” She explained, “I saw him use it earlier in the lab.”
 

“Can we get one for Chip?” Hog asked gruffly. Flip smiled
 

“Ha fucking ha.” He said in return, the smirk on his face twisting his lips into a scowl.
 

The growls of rebels around them brought them back to their senses. Already, they had risen to their feet on the plateau below, standing as a mass of angry flesh. Shelley’s body lay obscured from view beneath the throng of bodies. The spell was broken, this time beyond repair.
 

“Time to go!” Tyco shouted from above, and all hell broke loose below. The rebels swarmed in from all angles. The team rushed together, dodging gunfire from above as well as below. Tyco took one glance up the hillside and knew the stranded truck was a lost cause. He turned instead for the checkpoint below and the cover of its concrete barriers. “Guardhouse.” He tapped in, clipped and terse, as he sprinted towards it. The team broke with him at once.
 

MAP-11 was a flurry of movement in the crowd of rebels, wheeling ferociously as the soldiers moved in. He swung his rifle arm like a club, smashing an assailant across the jaw and dropping him in a limp heap. He fired quick, clipped bursts, dropping first one, then another soldier, and grasped a third by the neck with his free hand, flinging him into the crowd, and sending a handful of soldiers tumbling backwards.