Shedding the Demon (25 page)

Clearing the immediate threat gave him a momentary feeling
of relief, but he had revealed his location, and the targets all around began
to converge on him. Watching the red dots on his HUD, he tried to find a way
out. Even though he didn’t see any lone snipers, the others could also be armed
with these needle guns. He shuddered.

Reviewing the results from the last scan, he found the
quickest way out of the factory, and began to run down the pathway leading out.
He came to the end of the path and smashed through the wall into the corridor
beyond. Looking around he saw a group of people, some of whom he recognized
from the religious group he discovered during his recon.

“What are you doing here?” he nearly yelled, incredulously, “I
told you to get out!”

No one spoke, but simply stared at him, looking confused.
I
need to get them out,
now
!

Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes, he made an effort
to speak in a normal voice, “You have to listen to me,” he said, “you’re in
extreme danger. The area next to you is going to be demolished, using high
powered explosives that will destroy this entire area.” The forced calmness wavered
as he spoke, and sounded slightly hysterical by the end.

He could tell the people thought he was insane.

“Look,” he said, trying anything to convince them, “I spoke
to Leland McKrae just the other day, and warned him of the danger, didn’t he
come speak to you?”

Finally someone spoke up, “We haven’t seen Pastor Leland
since you disrupted our service the other day, we were actually afraid that
you
were responsible for his disappearance.”

A small man emerged from the crowd, apparently unafraid of
the obvious threat that Damon represented. He approached Damon and stood a mere
two feet from him, glaring up into his eyes. “Well, are you? Are you
responsible for his disappearance?”

“What, no, of course not! He found me, talked for a little
bit and then left. I haven’t seen him since.” He shook his head and tried to
get back on task. “Never mind that now, though, we need to get out of here.” He
gestured to encompass the group around him. “Is this everyone, or are there
more?”

The group looked around at each other and offered up a few
names, presumably of those missing from present company. The de facto leader
spoke again to Damon. “We’re missing a couple of folks, some are outside, some
in their rooms, I presume—”

“Go get them,” Damon interrupted. “You need to get out of
here, all of you, now! Get above ground and away. Fast!” He felt the urge to
push them physically, since none appeared to be in much of a hurry.

Nearby gunshots echoed down the corridor outside the room
and finally motivated the group into action. Damon encouraged them to hurry
while moving toward the direction of the gunfire. He wanted a new active scan,
but didn’t want to give away his position at the moment.

He turned back to the group, half of which had exited through
the opposite door and said, “I’ll lead them away from you, but get out as fast
as you can! Then we can find Leland.”

Damon moved quickly down the hall, deciding that he had no other
choice but to engage these soldiers directly.

“. . . 38% . . .”

Damon cursed. He glanced over the map in his HUD again and
gazed longingly at the Debar reactor on the far side of the factory.
I’ll
never make it there,
he decided,
but I can engage them long enough to
let the people escape
. He finally gave up on removing the remaining
charges.

Rounding a corner, he came upon a small group of soldiers
and opened up with his slug guns. The five men went down quickly, and he moved
off toward the next group. Now that his position was discovered, he pulsed his
active scanners for one last detailed view of the area. He didn’t want to spend
the power to keep it active, but settled for his regular suite of passive
sensors instead. They provided enough information when coupled with the recent
active sweep to provide a decent tactical advantage in the confrontation. He
quickly programmed an attack plan that would force his adversaries to maneuver
away from the civilians and also open up an escape path for him to follow. He
estimated ten minutes of strike and move before he would need to go quiet and
head for the exit.

Gunfire erupted behind him, and he was taking autorifle hits
from very close range. Ducking and spinning out of the line of fire, he
consulted his HUD to find out where these units could have been hiding. He felt
a moment of surprise as he realized it was the last group he just mowed down.
He switched to energy weapons and attacked the group again, this time making
sure they were dead. Upon closer inspection, he found that they wore
military-grade armor that protected them from his slug guns.

Damon revised his tactical plan. He ran down the corridor
with all weapons activated. He decided he now only had about three minutes
worth of power and that would be cutting it close.

Entering one of the large rooms that housed the machinery of
the factory, he heard a sound that now scared him to his core. A “whoosh” sound
like an air cylinder and he felt a stinging and burning sensation, this time
all across his back.

He twisted around awkwardly and fired all of his weapons
blindly, missing the target completely. He dove for cover just before hearing
another shot from the mysterious weapon. Luckily, he felt no more hits, the
shot must have gone wide. He hugged his arms to his chest and tried to calm
down.

Stop fighting the targeting controls, just flow with them
he told himself from his weapons training, which seemed so long ago.

The shooter still did not show up in his HUD.

Why can’t I see him?
He couldn’t understand why his
targeting system was failing him at this crucial time.
Their armor must be
cloaked somehow, but I thought my systems could defeat cloaking.
He wished
he had a chance to discuss this
personally
with the designers to impress
upon them the distinct failure in this respect.

His back really started to burn now, and there was no way
for him to remove these needles. His HUD indicated a quantity of poison was in
his blood, but it only showed a yellow alert, the system calculated that it
could counteract the effects again this time.

He still hadn’t located the latest sniper, and he decided to
try something a little different. He really wanted to burn the whole area down
with a Trip-PC shot, but he didn’t have to power available. Instead, he
programmed the three remaining anti-personnel missiles to hunt and seek out
targets matching the profiles of the last two snipers. The missiles could
loiter in the area for almost ten minutes, which should give him enough time to
get away. Once programmed, he released the missiles to their own devices. For
moment he watched them move around the area slowly, looking a lot like
hummingbirds, but far more deadly.

Checking his tactical plan, he felt a strong desire to abandon
it completely and escape. But he felt he owed the
religious freaks
more
time.

He felt lethargic and his limbs were heavy as he tried to
stand. The pain in his back caused him to cry out as he moved, and he couldn’t
stand up straight due to back spasms. More urgent was his need to get moving,
especially when one of the missiles suddenly disintegrated in a cloud of
needles. One of the remaining missiles flew off at high speed, apparently
toward the shooter. The last missile turned in the same direction, and looked
like it was watching the activity.

A small explosion told Damon that the first had hit
something, but he didn’t want to investigate to find out if it was the sniper.

He forced himself to move, although the pain was intense, making
him clumsy, loping along in an ungainly stride. He turned a corner and almost
collided with a group of soldiers who responded more quickly than he could and
opened fire at point blank range with their powerful autorifles. The impacts
knocked Damon over onto his back, which made him scream as hundreds of small
needles were shifted inside his skin under the armor. The soldiers didn’t back
down and maintained a continuous barrage. Damon felt the impacts and they hurt
almost as much as his back. He couldn’t bring his guns to bear, but kicked
himself around so his head faced the group and dropped two grenades armed for
instant detonation from the launch tubes at his shoulders. The explosion sent
Damon sliding across the floor, which further aggravated his back but the pain
was beginning to lessen. Rising to his knees, Damon looked through the smoke to
see the inert bodies of his attackers.

His HUD still showed yellow on the poison, it was taking
longer to counteract than he thought it should. More worrisome were two
innocuous-looking warnings he had never seen before about “minor system
failures.” Apparently the poison was interfering with his controls, but he
really had no idea how it would affect him.
One more reason to finish this
and get out of here,
he told himself yet again.

Another message showed up on his HUD, this one welcome - it
was time to make his exit.
Praise Kyndra’s kindness!
he thought as he
calculated the quickest way back to the path the religious group would be
taking to the surface.

He returned to the point where he’d last left them and found
with satisfaction that they had effectively cleared out as instructed. His
feeling of relief soon disappeared when he felt and heard the muffled
explosions of the charges finally being detonated. Worried now that the people
wouldn’t be far enough in the clear, he began to run as best he could with the
pain still throbbing in his back.

Far too soon he caught up with the fleeing civilians. They
were not even halfway to the surface and were milling around in confusion as
the explosions shook the corridors and debris began falling all around.

He waded into the chaos and began directing people, vocally
and physically, in the direction of the exit. The time between explosions told
Damon that the controllers had to detonate each charge individually, but he had
not been counting how many had already been activated. He could tell, however,
that they were getting closer with each subsequent explosion.

One explosion shook the floor and knocked the lights out,
plunging the group into darkness and outright panic.

Damon activated his spotlights, but they were relatively
small and offered little help in the gloom. Dust and darkness hindered their
movements although he could see using his sensors. He tried to move people
along in the correct direction, but found himself doubling back repeatedly to
gather someone who took a wrong turn. Finally, they entered a corridor with
some emergency lighting still operating. It was not much, but it made a huge
difference from the total darkness they had come from. Damon found that the
group was moving better now, and a few individuals had taken up leadership
roles to help those afflicted with fear and panic.

Gunfire erupted unexpectedly from behind them and some of
the civilians went down.

Anger burst into his chest with red-hot intensity. He spun
quickly and directed short, controlled bursts from his slug guns into the
shooters. He didn’t believe for second that the casualties were accidental.

He yelled to the stragglers to hurry up and took up a
rear-guard position while cursing himself for not anticipating this threat
earlier.

He pushed, pulled, cajoled, and threatened the people to go
faster, but they seemed to be moving in slow motion. He knew that there were
still charges to be detonated, but he didn’t know how many or how close.

“. . . 19% . . .”

He decided he had to energize the active scanners regardless
of the dangerously low power. Without scanner data he felt lost and useless. He
closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged as the sensor returns painted a bleak picture
of his tactical situation. The group was getting close to the surface, but
there were soldiers closing in on all sides, and one of the last three charges—he
now knew how many were left—was directly below them and could bring down this
entire area. He decided to address the more immediate threat of the soldiers
since there was nothing he could do about the explosives now.

His tactical programs ran through the options, but could not
devise a plan that would protect the people from the three hostile groups
converging from different directions. He chose the nearest group and rushed
headlong toward them, hoping to surprise them with a sudden offensive strike.
While on approach he quickly inventoried his ammo.
Four high-explosive and
two gas grenades, two anti-vehicular missiles, and five hundred rounds for the
slug guns. I’ve never been this low on power and ammo at the same time.
Damon
began to wonder if he really could actually lose in a fight, but quickly
dismissed the idea with bravado.
I’ve still got my combat blades!
He
grimaced,
oh - make that combat BLADE,
as he remembered his damaged
wrist.

He had no further time for thought as he entered a room and
waited for the soldiers to approach from the other side. Apparently they did
not have a fix on his position because they entered the room unprepared. Damon
opened fire immediately, no longer having the luxury of trying to remain
non-lethal. He carefully regulated the rate of fire in order to use only a
couple of rounds with each attack. The effect was not dramatic, but it was
effective and he soon finished off this first group.

He had very little time to savor his victory and was quickly
moving on the second group. He was able to approach from behind, but he lacked
the easy setup of a convenient room to use as a killing field. This situation
lent itself to the relatively quiet approach of the ECB, so Damon extended the
blade on his right hand to its full one-meter length. He had no time to plan,
but moved in immediately without pausing to consider the best approach.