POD (The Pattern Universe) (16 page)

He looked at his watch. Two minutes and forty seconds. The grey sludge he had exposed to the material had eaten through it until there was virtually nothing remaining except a pile of disintegrated soot at the base of the door. Inert and harmless it was a new raw material ready for smelting into something. The killer nanites had done their job perfectly.

He shouted at the remaining men who had pulled in the third, it looked like Dicks, and were busy returning fire.

“I need a few minutes, just keep them at bay for three more minutes, then we’re out of here.” He didn’t wait for an answer, they knew what they had to do.

He needed to get through the disintegrating doorway, so he turned his shield to maximum and pushed his way through the remaining structure. The nanites dropped sliding off his shield to the floor and scurried off in little rivulets; following their leaders on the hunt for more material to digest. They would cause chaos wherever they stopped. He left them to it. He had bigger fish to fry.

Inside, the grey lighting cast an eery glow about the room. There were about twenty mainframes as well as lots of additional equipment all flashing furiously. It would take him ten minutes to deal with them all and he had no idea which ones would be crucial to Ferris’ operation against Space Island. He needed a means of spreading the grey paste as quickly as possible.

Baxter ran around searching out the best locations to place his lethal nanites. As he came back around to the entrance he knew he was running out of time. The sound of weapons fire came closer as his men were being pushed back in the small corridor.

He looked about frantically while pulling out the ceramic flask. He finally looked up at the solid rock roof that had been carved out to make the room; it looked very hard and impervious. It gave him an idea.

Stepping to the end of the long chain of mainframes he lobbed the flask hard against the roof overhead of the computer casings. As it smashed, shards flying across the room were all he could see, reflected in the light from the recessed lighting in the walls. Yet he knew, without a doubt, that the grey sludge inside was even now flying through the room and splattering everywhere, mostly over the machines. He knew it would ignore everything organic and natural. The nanites were created to convert artificial compounds and basic metals into new raw materials, that meant his uniform and weapons were at risk but the shield would protect him.

The men were still being pressed into the small cul-de-sac where they had made their stand, but they had no means of escape. Baxter rejoined them and got a curt nod at the direction of the fire-power as if to say 'got any ideas’ boss?’ He looked down at Dicks, felt his neck for a pulse. There was nothing, he glanced at Phelps, who was calmly chewing gum, he shook his head.

“Backdrop!” Baxter called out as he placed plugs in his ears. The others did the same as they pulled out two grenades each from their satchels. Dropping their weapons by their sides while they armed the grenades they threw them both up and down the corridor, three grenades going each way. They clapped their hands over their heads and curled up on the ground.

The effect of the grenades detonating made the ground ripple with the vibration. They hadn’t used explosives, but concentrated sound waves within the confines of a small space had a concussive effect that blew through the enemy shields as well as their own as a massive percussive wave. Because sound wasn’t classified as dangerous to the wearer, the shields allowed it through. By the time the body reacted and the shields solidified a defence, it was all over.

It was one of those short term weapons that would soon be overcome by technological progress in the shield software. Baxter’s team had a partial defence, but not enough to drown it all out - hence the ear plugs and precautionary ground cover. Ferris’ men weren’t so lucky.

As they ran out of cover carrying Dick’s body with them, they headed back down to the lower levels. The first sight of the damage the grenade had wreaked sickened them. The enemy soldiers were bleeding from everywhere, not dead, but severely injured and probably permanently deaf from the massive sound impact. The grenades had even wrecked their shield emitters, so their shields hadn’t even moderately protected them.

Baxter and Phelps each grabbed a weapon from the soldiers. Osbourne and his team would need to see these guns that killed through personal shields. Baxter led off in a controlled retreat back into the lower recesses. The sound of a gun battle ahead warned them the other team was having similar issues.

They had just reached the same level as the ongoing gun battle when Baxter thought he saw a blur whip through the corridor from left to right, a draught of air blowing across his face. When it stopped, the second team were lying on the ground, their broken bodies showing evidence of massive damage.

As Baxter’s eyes followed the trail of destruction he reached the source of the whirlwind. A man stood facing him, thickset, built as though he would have trouble moving, armour-plated like a tank and looking very intimidating. Baxter recognised him vaguely from a picture. This was Ferris, a much changed man from the photographs and video images he remembered seeing from the military archives.

Ferris just smiled – willing him and his team onwards. Baxter was distracted by something off in his peripheral vision. One of his men from the beta team, he couldn’t see who it was in the light. He thought it might be Templar, moving slightly, still alive. He saw him pull something out of his pocket.

Baxter returned the smile of the formidable mutation who stood between his team and freedom and began walking slowly forward providing a necessary distraction. He quietly called out ‘Backdrop’ to his team walking alongside and behind him, turning his head so Ferris couldn’t see him mouth the word. The others nodded and continued to walk towards Ferris, who was now only twenty yards away.

It happened fast, Ferris began to react just as the grenade rolled out of the beta team soldier's hand. It would have been easy for him to see it if he hadn’t already been distracted by a lob over Baxter’s head by Pitt. A sound grenade arced towards Ferris, who was already moving to one side so the grenade would sweep past him and bounce round the corner of the corridor just behind him.

As he stepped forward to protect himself from the expected blast, he stood right above the grenade that Templar had released. They both went off almost at the same time causing the corridor walls to buckle and ripple as the sound wave from behind Ferris picked him up just as the one beneath him lifted him up and smacked him into the roof of the corridor. Rock and dust flew outwards, hard and fast enough to kill or injure anyone in its path.

Baxter swung Dick’s body around so it took the main impact of the blast as he kneeled on one leg using himself as a shield for those behind. When it hit Baxter, he was driven back into the other two who caught him and held him while the concussive wave passed them by. He was practically unconscious as he felt hands grappling at him in the ensuing chaos

The others pulled him up, dragging him forward with them as they took a run at the corridor expecting Ferris to be severely injured if not dead. Unfortunately for them, although he could no longer stand, he still grabbed at Pitt as they attempted to get past him, yanking him to the ground while with his other hand he reached for Baxter, still reeling from the sound grenades’ effect.

Phelps reacted immediately, pointing one of the recovered Fortress weapons at Ferris. He discharged it at point blank range, the projectile going right through Ferris' upper arm. Baxter couldn’t see what type of weapon it was, but it had the desired effect and Ferris’ arm dropped to his side.

Ferris didn’t act like he was wounded, quite the opposite. With only one good arm and legs that wouldn’t carry him, he still looked exceedingly dangerous. Baxter realised that he was still too close and tried to pull back, reaching for Pitt to drag him away from Ferris.

Ferris looked at Baxter and laughed evilly. The result of the light, the sound grenade, the heightened senses of the moment, made the whole situation appear surreal. Ferris’ one good hand held the struggling soldier. He strained slightly as he tightened his grip around Pitt’s throat, crushing the life out of the helpless soldier. Ferris threw the body to one side and began reaching for Baxter again. Phelps pulled him out of reach.

Baxter was again dragged away by Phelps. Ferris temporarily subdued by the damage from the grenade tried to get his legs under him to stand up. They had all been told by the scientists not to take Ferris on as he had become practically superhuman. He wouldn’t stay damaged for long if he was injured as he had fast healing abilities and could recover in seconds. They could see that now first-hand

They ran, Phelps taking the lead. Meeting no further resistance, and without realising quite how they achieved it, they reached the underground river. They pressed the buttons on their emitters trying to reset their shields, which eventually worked, but the cloaking indicator light warned Baxter that his was not fully functional.

They heard sounds coming from behind them, someone was racing down the corridors. Realising they were out of time, they took one last look at the fast flowing waters and leaped in.

Shields protecting them from the rock-face and earplugs blocking the noise of the torrent, the water sped them from the underground river at breakneck speed. It was freezing, but the journey down would be much quicker than the one up.

They had to get to the waterfall before someone thought to turn off the nullifiers which would ensure they drowned under the pressure of the back-flow hitting the shield. They had no breathing equipment, which might not have survived the effect of the sound grenades anyway.

As they reached the nullified area near the end of the underground river Baxter was relieved to see the water was still rushing through. He had no doubt this wouldn’t last long and sighed with relief as they slid past the shield and got caught up in the eddy pool that had developed over years.

Slowing themselves sufficiently to find the ropes they had left attached to the walls, they began to feed themselves hand over hand, until they were out of sight of the main pool and halfway to the waterfall's edge and freedom. Phelps, who had gone first, disappeared under the water, Baxter just saw the end of the rope as it whipped past his face in the water.

A second later, and he felt the resistance disappear as his rope parted company with the wall in the pool. Somebody had cut the ropes. They were going to pop out of the waterfall like corks from a bottle. Their already damaged shields would be unlikely to withstand the two thousand foot drop to the ground.

Baxter still holding the rope, extended his arms winding the slack around his hands while trying to keep level so his feet ejected first. As he felt himself thrown forcefully into the air with the volume of water, he tried to remember the relative positions of the sleds, and when he felt the air around him, threw a loop outward in the hope of catching one of the sleds. He didn’t know if he had succeeded until he body-slammed into the cliff, only his shield stopping him from being beaten unconscious from the impact. The rope had caught and held.

He looked up. The water flow had stopped, just a dribble coming out the overhanging lip of the fall. The rope had caught around the smooth grip of the handlebar of the outer parked sled. As he watched, it began to slide off towards the side; in moments he would be hurtling towards the ground. He looked down for a second and felt the rope as it gave.

“Oh Shit!” His body instinctively prepared for the worst.

Expecting to be instantly airborne in a terminal dive, Baxter was astonished to find instead that he was actually going upwards. He strained his neck upwards to see the rope being pulled into the mouth of the cliff, one pull at a time. Was Ferris pulling him back in? Should he let go and take his chances with the rocks? Was dying down there preferable to being mangled with those massive hands of his?

- 13 -

As he looked down, nervously contemplating the consequences of jumping to his death if his shield failed, he felt the rope slip a little. Glancing up in a moment of pure terror, he saw Phelps straining to hold the thin cord in his hands. Now very glad he hadn’t let go, he had no time to wonder just how he had managed to avoid being thrown out over the mountain cliff. He must ask him sometime, if he got out of this in one piece.

Relieved at seeing his comrade, Baxter smiled, calling out to him in a forced jovial tone, “Move your backside, Phelps. It's damned cold out here.” As he said it he realised the truth of it; the cold wind was biting through his clothing, his hands fast becoming numb.

He didn’t hear Phelp’s reply, which was probably just as well.

As soon as Baxter got level with the sled he pulled himself onto it giving Phelps an opportunity to get himself off the cliff-side and onto a parked sled. The water no longer coming out of the side of the cliff imparted a totally different image of the place, cold, dark, forbidding and empty. With what they knew was being held back by the shield, they wanted to be long gone when it was released.

They didn’t have long and knew it. Each sled could be set in tandem; Phelps immediately took two sleds, and Baxter took one with two trailing him.

As they released the tractor beams on all the sleds, they drifted down and away from the cliff. As the lead sled, Baxter reset the GPS, his cold fingers barely registering the contact with the touch-screen His visor couldn’t be relied upon since the grenades had blasted the sensors on the outside so it would be a case of pointing the sleds and let the GPS take the strain.

They hugged the mountainside as close as they could manoeuvre without creating a flurry of snow in their wake. They had cut it fine as their sensitive sled sensors indicated hostiles coming into range headed directly for the waterfall, just as they curved around a mountain peak out of range of the enemy reception committee’s own sensors.

They had scouted out a location on the way in that would give them some cover, which they reached within an hour. Hidden under an outcrop of rock that would deflect most sensors, they waited there, slowly freezing as the temperature, considerably colder out of the sun, froze the water in their uniforms. They waited until it was deemed safe to continue, then made their way to the arranged rendezvous point, and the waiting ship.