The west wall was traversed by a bundle of huge cables, secured in place by a circular steel structure—each cable passed through a different hole…
“These people must have an enormous need for electricity,” Gerard commented.
“Yeah, and I don't like it at all,” Cam muttered, “because it looks like all that demand is concentrated in this section of the underground complex, and that means they've got something here big and complex enough to consume it. That can't be anything but trouble…” He paused slowly and took off his goggles. “I think I feel a draft over there,” he pointed to a large tunnel to the left.
They examined the threshold: it was as wide as the gallery they were walking through, clearly a main route. Most of the cables bent sharply to follow it.
The lieutenant also raised his goggles and closed his eyes.
“Yes, I feel it.”
Frances stepped forward.
“If I know Burton, he surely went to look for its origin.”
Cam nodded and put his goggles back on. He motioned for them to follow.
It didn't take them long to reach the other side, where the air began to smell different, fresher, more humid.
The tunnel was wide, but the one it connected to was three times as wide, and the walls were concrete instead of stone; upward, the supporting beams formed arches at intervals.
“This must be the main gallery!” Frances deduced, her eyes fixed on the arches. “And I bet that all the important places of this fortification are directly connected to this one.”
“Guys, over here,” Gerard called to them.
He was standing in the middle of the tunnel inspecting the ground.
“What is it?”
“Fresh footprints.”
They were not wet like the ones they had seen above, but rather faint marks from dusty soles.
Frances crouched over them and adjusted the viewfinder to get a better look at them: she recognized them, of course she did!
“Those are Burton's! That's our pattern!” she exclaimed, trying not to shout, “He went that way, and not long ago!”
“Well done, let's get him.”
They didn't want to run away in a place with such a capacity for echoes, and they moved as quickly and quietly as possible.
The footprints turned left into another tunnel, and they did the same.
They turned off the night vision: the whole corridor was dimly lit, pale blue.
There was a fork ahead and the tracks continued to the left, always in that direction.
“Aha! Of course he took the one with the light. How predictable,” Frances scoffed.
“What the hell was Burton doing?” muttered Cam, a little in awe of how far his NCO had decided to go on his own.
“Trying to prove foolishly that he's tough as nails, why else would he go so far?”
“Maybe, but he might have found out something and tried to follow the trail. Come on, Frankie, give him some credit.”
She smiled.
“Now, let's go before he gets in trouble.”
They followed the trail, noticing that the light was getting stronger, and after they got a little farther, the intensity was blinding.
“Oh, fuck…”
“So much darkness and now so much light. That's not good for the eyes. Huh?” Cam joked.
Gerard covered his eyes with the palm of his hand.
“Right. Why do they need so much light here when the rest of the tunnel is dark?”
“I don't know… Something's wrong up ahead. Well, there's nothing right here, but you get the idea,” said Frances, picking up her pace.
“I think I understand moths now,” Cam whispered. “It seems to be calling you.”
They entered the chamber from which the white light emanated with their eyes half open, waiting for them to adjust to the light.
Gerard was the first to focus his eyes, and what he saw… It could not be real. The others opened their eyes wide in equal confusion: Burton, unconscious, at the center of a terrifying mechanism, surrounded by a translucent prism, with three lasers pointed at the same spot on his head, and a machine flashing in the background: it was horror movie material.
“Burton!” Cam yelled.
There was no answer. His head was hanging loosely over his shoulders.
“He's unconscious,” he noticed. He raised his voice. “Any idea what the hell is going on?”
“This must be Dragon's shrine, that's what the soldier said,” Frances suggested.
Gerard moved forward to find the source of the lasers. He circled around to the wall where the niche was and looked up: he could hardly believe it.
“It is a statue, of a dragon.”
Frances went with him to see it as well.
“Whoa! Not bad at all.”
“This thing is doing something really fucked up to Burton, Frankie,” Cam shouted, his eyes fixed on Burton. “We must stop this now!”
Just then the computer beeped again, and a second circle turned blue on the monitor.
“Gerard, take a look at that statue; Frankie, see if you can find out anything about that terminal while I investigate this… barrier.”
Cam rushed to where the barrier was, and as soon as he raised his arms to touch it, he was shaken from head to toe.
“Shit!”
He squeezed his hand tightly—his fingers tingled.
“Cam?!”
“Keep up, Gerard: I'm fine. It emits an electric shock, be careful.”
“Are you sure?”
The captain sighed and nodded.
Gerard nodded back, looking at the dark crystal in the statue's throat.
“They're lasers, no doubt, and from what I can see, they're scanning rather than trying to harm him. But what exactly? I don't understand.”
“I understand. Frankie, what do you see?”
“The circles on the monitor are like a bar graph showing the stages of a process. I imagine Burton is in the middle of one and he's halfway through!” she exclaimed in dismay.
Cam stood behind her.
“Whatever it is, it can't be positive.”
Gerard approached the dragon's mouth and stabbed at the black glass with the knife.
“I can't… I can't break it.”
Cam crossed the room and stood by the head, watching the glass throb.
“What about the ones with the eyes?”
“Mmmh.”
Without pausing to think, he picked up his pistol and fired at the glowing left eye. The beam flickered for a moment and the flow became unbalanced, flickered, but a moment later it was the same.
“Perhaps if we interrupt the three beams, the process will fail.”
Cam had stood motionless, watching the statue's eyes.
“Yes, we could try. But first…”
He turned and looked at Frances, who was trying to use the terminal.
“How are you doing? Do you think we can turn it off the easy way? Because if not, I think there's a way to do it the hard way.”
“This controller is very complex,” she slid her fingers across the touch screens. “There are a lot of options and information that appears in each option, a lot of abbreviations too. Wait, I'll select… Ah, what the hell…!”
“What is going on?”
“We need a password to operate the terminal!”
Cam crossed his arms: hacking the machine was beyond his capabilities, and while the MT might be able to find the password, it would take time to do the operation.
He turned to Gerard.
“I shoot it in the eye, and you shoot it in the throat. At the same time. One, two and three!”
For a moment, the thread of light connecting the dragon and Burton was completely extinguished—the three crystals flickered.
“That's good! We're almost there.” He was sweating—it was very hot in there. “Frankie! Come here.”
She obeyed at full speed.
“Captain?”
“I want you to aim your gun at the other eye.”
“All right.”
She took a few steps and aimed at the dragon's right eye. She was so focused that another sudden beep almost made her pull the trigger.
“Great: third circle,” she grunted.
“Frances, on the count of three, just shoot the eye once.”
She nodded; eyes fixed on the stone.
“One, two and three!”
Shots rang out in the chamber and the echoes rattled the walls. Gerard watched in amazement as the surface of the glass had cracked, now without its laser. The other two did not recover either.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
They heard the terminal beeps, different, longer, more urgent. A monitor displayed a warning about the interruption of the lasers: “The process of scanning, adjusting and copying information has failed.” The sounds continued for a moment, lower and lower, more resigned, until they were just small clicks.
All was silent, except for the faint hiss of the transparent walls as they retracted into place beneath the floor.
Frances looked up at her friends with enthusiasm.
“It worked!”
“I hope so,” Cam nodded, adrenaline pumping. “Let's go get him.”
They approached him carefully: he was lying on his back.
Frances knelt and checked his pulse.
“Hey Burton, can you hear me?” she asked, but got no answer. “Buck! Wake the hell up!”
She was about to slap him when Burton half-opened his eyes, looking like a drunk.
“W-what?”
“Oh, good,” she lowered her arm, “I thought I'd have to carry you to the surface” she sighed, smiling.
Cam knelt heavily behind them.
“Burton. What were you doing here?” He was annoyed, he couldn't help it. “Give me one good reason not to report you when we get back.”
“I was… looking for the subway exit, I think. I-I don't really remember.”
“Well, it looks like you got sidetracked on purpose. And you should have come back for us; you can't get that far away from your team: we're your backup; it's protocol. Burton.”
Gerard watched them with great relief. Silently, he turned to examine the large statue once more.
While Burton tried to excuse himself to his captain for disappearing and getting into trouble, he turned his attention to a strange inscription on the pedestal.
“ ‘Harmony has its price.’ ”
He read the plaque again, trying to make sense of what he had read, but he could not understand what the artifact had to do with harmony.
“Oh, heck! I'm sorry, okay?”
“You've been too careless!” Frances growled, in front of a silently nodding Cam.
“We should get out of here as soon as possible,” Gerard interrupted them.
All three looked at him and then at the door.
“You're right.” Cam headed for the exit, sighing and letting the stress subside. “I think we're out of time: the soldiers will be anxious to leave.”
Frances shook Burton's hand and pulled him to his feet.
“Wait! Ouch!” the man flinched and put his hand to his neck.
“Is something wrong with you?”
“I think the machine injected me with a sedative. Maybe I hit the wall?”
“Well…” Frances walked over to check the sore area. “It looks a little swollen. I'll give you a cold compress when we get to the Falconer.”
He nodded somewhat apologetically: he felt he shouldn't complain about something that was his own fault.
They readied their weapons just in case and set off. When they reached the gate, Burton used the MT to remove the lock. And after a short walk, they were surprised by the soothing warm smell of the outside and the glow of natural light.
Outside, the wind blew gently, and there were no sounds of gunfire or vehicles.
Cam looked around: they were emerging from a wide entrance in the middle of a formation of large dark rocks. They were over five meters high: it would have been impossible to see it from the air.
Beyond it was a small hill, overgrown with bushes here and there. They climbed over it to get a better look. They were north of Sarzo, at the edge of the desert.
They pondered, amazed: the dilapidated town contrasted sharply with the underground complex. How would their superiors react when they found out?
“I'm having second thoughts,” Burton said. He was still thinking about the sanctuary. “They're not the disorganized rebel camp we thought they were. They're so… sophisticated, with this, well, this building and this technology.”
“Come on, let's not give them more credit than they deserve,” Cam sighed. “And after the beating they took in the capital, all that stuff won't do them any good.”
“It's like, what if we don't beat them up? What if it goes the other way?”
Cam and Frances stared at him; Gerard looked down and whispered:
“That is a real possibility.”
The other two looked at each other: Yes, it was a possibility.
“Now calm down,” Cam activated his PCC. “We'll report back immediately and ask about the battle… Oh good, the signal is back.”
A message on the screen: two missed calls. He felt uncomfortable: they usually didn't communicate in the middle of stealth missions. He touched the ID and called the mission controller, the sub-delegate. He took longer than usual to answer, and when he did, he sounded rushed, frightened.
“Captain Cameron, finally… We've been trying to contact your squad! Is there any trouble?”
“Mmmh. Lieber, you're the one who sounds like you're in trouble.”
“We are in a lot of trouble, yes. We had to contact you to tell you that the soldiers in Sarzo have already left and you are on your own. This is because, well, to make a long story short, Wilker's army has broken through the defenses and entered the city: they have cornered us at the base.”
“What?” they all shouted in unison.
“We are trying to keep them at a safe distance, but we are under siege. Captain, we need all the help we can get. But first, the General has made it clear that your mission is a special one and the information you gather could be invaluable…”
“We found out a lot, sir. Tell me what you need to know, and we'll tell you what we know. But first, if possible, can you give us an update on the situation?”
Cam felt overwhelmed. His NCO had been right to be hesitant.
“In short, things got more complicated when more attack dragonfly and heavy transport vehicles appeared. It seems that some of the dragonflies came from the border, abandoning the other battle. And the other vehicles brought more soldiers, drones… and dogs.”
“Dogs?”
“Huge dogs, trained; there are so many of them. But there is something strange in their appearance and behavior: they seem to be hysterical and in pain… It's not good at all. And these new waves of soldiers came better prepared for battle than the first: their protection was better and their weapons too, military grade like ours. We didn't expect this attack to be nearly as big as the one at the border… Now we all believe that the capital was always the real target and that the border was a decoy, although they are still attacking us there and we can't ask our soldiers to withdraw. The dogs obey them: they rush at us without fear, drooling as if rabid…” his voice trembled as he finished.
“How did they manage to enter the capital and besiege the base?”
“We were outnumbered, Captain, not in numbers but in strategy and skill. With the illegal combat drones and the unexpected help of those beasts, they managed to break through the defenses and enter the city… And then… Chaos ensued, with civilians still in the streets.”
“They're killing civilians! Haven't they evacuated them already? What about the able-bodied?” Cam's temples ached, now more than ever.
“We didn't have time to organize everyone. We distributed equipment and weapons to all the able-bodied people we could find. The others went to the evacuation points in the central and southern sectors to wait for transport. But don't worry, they're not killing citizens, at least not anymore. I was informed that they saw the enemy soldiers taking them away in their vehicles to the prison. But now the remaining soldiers are trapped inside the walls of our base,” he took a deep breath. “We will not allow them to reach our arsenal, we must resist!”
“So, you think they're going after our arsenal?”
“We think so, because they refuse to leave and keep attacking us. We still have some patrols flying around the city, trying to shoot down the enemy dragonflies, but they can't get in because they've set up artillery. However, we can still communicate with the pilots, and they have told us that there is a conglomeration of our civilians and society ones near the energy complex on the other side of the city.”
All four of them were panicked, barely believing what they were being told.
“Listen,” Cam began, taking a deep breath to calm himself, “here's the gist of what we've found out. First, and as you have already noticed, Wilker and his people have more resources and technology than expected; Sarzo is hiding a small but well-equipped underground research center. We have seen their infrastructure, machines and experiments, many of them on animals.”
Frances approached him.
“The device, those mutant cats had it on the back of their necks.”
“That's right.” Cam touched his temple. “We found these two cats, apparently the result of some experimental mutation. They also had something strange on the back of their necks, but not on the skin, inside: tiny devices, like chips, something like that. We don't know what they were doing, but it seems plausible that they were altering their behavior, like with the dogs.”
Burton frowned at them: the things he must have missed.
A very loud creaking noise came over the communicator, followed by a great din.
“Shit,” the man spat. “Captain, I want the General and our superiors to hear what you have to say, everything.” There was an explosion. “No… I can't stay on the line. They need me down below. Get back to the city as soon as possible, Fifth Squad.”
“What is it?”
“An explosion down there. I'm needed. Your information is being relayed. Get out!”
Cam stood motionless, staring at the screen, a bead of sweat trickling down his chin.
He looked at his soldiers and gestured for them to move toward Sarzo.
The Falconer was resting on the esplanade. The soldiers had moved it into the shade before they left, and there was no sign that the society had found it.
Burton opened the door of the heliplane and walked to his station. Frances sat behind him. Cam and Gerard headed for the operations controllers.
They immediately brought up the satellite image of the city: heavy vehicles were moving through the city and the base was glittering with tiny flashes of light and little shadows moving from one side to the other. Unfortunately, this was the limit of the zoom.
“Full speed ahead,” the captain ordered. “When we get close, fly low. We'll improvise our way in as the situation develops.”
In a second, the Falconer was flying over Sarzo, fierce and belligerent.
They were silent for nearly twenty minutes before nerves and anticipation caused them to resume their conversation.
“So,” Burton began serious, unable to forget his blunder, “what was that about mutant cats?”
“The society has a wing full of labs,” Cam explained. “A psychopath locked us in a nearby room with three malnourished abominations. They were like panthers, but three meters long. After we finished them off, Frankie found a chip in the neck of one of them.”
“Woah! What the hell are they doing down there?”
“I know!” exclaimed Frances, “I said the same thing.”
“What else did I miss?”
“Gerard found a book that we think might give us clues as to what the society is up to,” the captain continued.
He watched him over his shoulder: he was concentrating on the book, determined to read it as soon as possible.
“How's it going?”
“It is fascinating. This book, the Robsonian Chronicles, is written with several different approaches, narrative being the main one; but as I read it again, more calmly, I realize that it is written with historical intentions, albeit under many fantastical impressions. In addition, some sections contain observations and anecdotes told in the first person, as in a diary. This book appears to be no more than twenty years old; however, I have found no indication of the age of the text—there are no editorial notes.”
“And Wilker is supposed to support his ideas in this book?”
“That's what it looks like, yes.”
“And what is it about?” Frances asked.
“Humm” He shifted in his seat. “I'll summarize what I have so far. First, the book has four parts. The first is an account of what appears to be the origin of some unique creatures and their migration northward. Then the second is devoted to a region called the Windy Range. Apparently, a cold land, far to the north. Its native inhabitants and their customs are introduced, whom the author identifies as Sami. They were enemies of Dragon and allies of his rival. The third tells of the consequences of the disappearance of the rival, whom the book refers to as ‘Phoenix’; and how a group of people, a society, set out to hunt down Dragon. The fourth is about his defeat and his vows to return… This part seems to have been written by his followers, suggesting that someone wrote the book with input from both sides.”
“Sounds like a compilation of all things Dragon,” Frances commented.
“It is.”
“So, it's a dragon and a phoenix?” asked Burton.
“The author always calls him Dragon. Never ‘the dragon.’ ”
“I think we can confirm that it is, as we suspected, a proper name,” decided the captain.
“Some parts can be interpreted as confirmation, yes,” he nodded. “But there is one that clearly refers to a reptilian body… This line says that when they were seen, they each took their respective animal. They.”
“Dragon and the phoenix?” Frances specified with a raised eyebrow.
“Dragon, Phoenix and Chimera.”
“Oh my. Now there are three?” Burton shuddered.
“Remember, it's an old story,” Cam insisted, sulking at the thought of Wilker doing all this, all this damage, based on a story. “Our mystery leader took his name from this bug, but it's not this bug.”
Gerard raised his head.
“In the first part is the statement that the three beings come from the south, that they came to this world on an island in the Aegean Sea, and then they made their territory throughout the eastern Mediterranean, always moving in secret. And that is why the mythological animals they chose are from this region. After a few decades of living there, they went north and kept going until they reached Scandinavia,” he sighed deeply. “That's all I've been able to read.”
“I don't think it's going to help at all,” Frances said.
Gerard did not respond and instead it was Cam who continued.
“No,” he smiled subtly. “But at least now we understand some of what Scott is thinking.”
“This is all crazy.” Burton took his hand off the wheel and scratched his head. “What happened after Dragon's defeat?”
“I glanced a line that said Chimera ran away and disappeared. I promise I'll give you more details when I read more, Buck.”
“Kay,” he resigned himself.
The sky began to cloud over a little, and the soft sandstorms reached them: they were already close to the capital, they could see its silhouette behind the dust.
“How far is it to the outskirts?”
“About fifteen minutes, Cam,” the pilot replied.
“Time to descend until the Falconer can barely stay in the air…
He turned around and activated the Falconer's communicator, but the connection dropped after a few seconds. He tried again, and again, but the result was the same.
“Shit.” Then he tried using his PCC: No, nothing.
“The satellite is working,” Gerard pointed to the monitor. There's a fire at the base: they must have disabled the antennas.
“No!” he looked him in the eye, “Damn it! I don't even want to imagine how… They must have occupied the whole base. Our comrades and General Art—you don't think they were captured? They must have gotten the hell out of there before anyone else.”
“Yes, of course, there is no reason to assume the worst.”
Cam sighed weakly.
“Of course not.” He looked suspiciously at the horizon. “Frankie, any dragonflies on the radar?”
“No. Neither are our aircraft.”
It was strange that there were no patrols. Even in cases of extreme necessity, protocol dictated that a half dozen should always be left behind.
“East, Burton: we need to see the battlefield but not cross it.”
“But the base is to the west…”
“I don't want to risk going through Diablo Two, Burton. If the base has fallen, going there would be like going into the lion's den. We'll figure out what to do when we know more.”
Gerard and Frances gave each other a look of agreement: Cam was usually casual and smooth in everyday life, but when the situation got serious, he changed, and suddenly the uniform fit him perfectly.
“Should we prepare the machine guns?” she suggested.
“Hell, yes. I want you both on it.”
Cam looked at them sideways with a half-smile. Technically, the order had been to return to the city, and they had done that; and since they couldn't ask for instructions, this was the next best thing.
The silhouette of the capital grew sharper as they lost altitude. Soon they could clearly make out a shapeless mass of grayish smoke above the battlefield on the outskirts of the city. And then, inevitably, they looked down: the ground was disturbed, soaked with blood and dark stains from explosions. Beside the rocks, in the sand, and on the wreckage of several vehicles lay the battered bodies of their comrades and their enemies. And the dogs, those poor devils, their bodies filled all the holes and doubled the number of humans. Lieber had not exaggerated.
Their eyes wandered far until they stopped on the distant Octagonal Tower, smoke billowing, windows glittering with flames. No, Lieber had not exaggerated.