HN38: Suppression

“So, you kiddos want me to stop shooting at the big’uns?” The surplus store owner—Ralph, of course—raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got a gun that can hurt ‘em, and you want me to shoot something else? I don’t get your damn-fool plan, and I don’t like it.”

Overclock rubbed at her temples. “Once again, Mister Thomas, we’re telling you to change your shots to try and break up the Type Twenty-Eights guarding the spit so we can get to the Twenty-Ones out on the end. We’ll take care of them, but any suppressing fire you throw on our way in will help us hit them with full mana. So, yes, switch your damn targets.”

“Who died and made you mayor? This is my shop and home, and I’m gonna defend it how I want,” Ralph said.

Overclock’s eyes narrowed, and I stared as she stood up and put her hands on her hips. “Tell me, Mister Thomas, were you in the military?”

“Yeah, I was. Before the war, I did a tour in Germany. That’s Rügenfestung to you, kids. Then I fought with the Fourteenth California Volunteers after First Emergence. I’ve got thirty years of service as a sergeant, and I won’t be ordered around by you!”

“Well, actually, you will,” Overclock smiled predatorily. “James, pull up Ralph Thomas of Sooke’s profile. He should be ex-military. He is? Great. Sign him up with HANAF as an emergency auxiliary. All done? Thank you, James.”

She turned to Ralph, shouting. “Ralph Thomas, on my authority as a Magical Girl and First Lieutenant with HANAF, you’ve been conscripted into the Haven Army, Navy, and Air Force as a sergeant for the duration of this Emergence. You’ll be paid twice your last month’s salary for your service, plus hazard pay. Now, get your anti-tank rifle firing, soldier!”

“Fucking SHOCKS. Fucking HANAF. This is bullshit,” Ralph—Sergeant Thomas—muttered. He stomped toward the anti-tank rifle. “I’m filing a suit when this is over! You damn girls have no right!”

“Just keep firing, sergeant.” Overclock turned and quickly walked over to the door. She pulled the metal grate open. “Go, girls. I’ll be right behind you.”

I could feel Bentley preemptively dropping my hearing. A moment later, the anti-tank rifle fired. This time, it kicked up dirt halfway up the spit instead of near the Type Twenty-Ones. “Thanks, Bentley.”

Overclock shut the door and joined us outside. Li Mei smiled. “I guess that’s what using your military rank looks like? I just customer-serviced my way through my towers earlier, mostly.”

“I bet that only works that well on veterans, though,” I hedged as we started jogging toward Whiffen Spit. “Would civilians respond that…well?”

“Honestly, no, but you’d be shocked at how many veterans HANAF makes. SHOCKS records show that 30% of the population is former military. Most didn’t serve on Catalina’s walls, but they were trained to respond to authority. It helps that we actually pay them when we conscript, too,” Overclock said.

As we approached the spit, waves started to pound against Sooke’s shore. They crashed against the beach, flooding inland a few dozen meters, then withdrew. Overclock held up a hand, and we stopped running. “Something’s wrong,” she said as the ground started to rumble.

I froze. If it were an earthquake or tsunami, anyone outside a shelter would die. While Haven wasn’t in as close of a gap as Seattle had been pre-Emergences, a tsunami was something we’d trained for in school. In Sooke, it’d probably be worse than at West End.

I stared as the water off the beach began to bubble. “That’s no tsunami,” I mumbled. “They don’t do that.”

I was right.

It was worse. I stared in horror at the abomination that crawled out of the water on six tank treads. The Mack that pulled itself up onto the beach dwarfed the Type Twenty-Ones. Its crab-like Mack plating hid a half-dozen burning yellow eyes in its deep recesses, and it covered the beach with its body. Its two arms spread open, revealing a ‘mouth’ of whirling blades and rotating crushers. It started grinding toward us, slowly consuming part of a beach house as it grew closer.

“...Class Four….Thirty-Two…run from it…” Bentley said in my ear. I could tell he was trying to say more, but all I got was static instead of a voice. My stomach plummeted, and I started shaking. This was like after I’d given up James in the library. I was alone!

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

I stared at the horror on the rest of Z-4’s faces. Overclock slapped herself. Hard. “A Type Thirty-Two…that’s a city-ender. The Operators know. They’ll have a strike team coming. Run!”

We ran.

We didn’t run toward the spit, Prestige Building, or even Ralph’s Surplus. We didn’t stick together. The Mack’s roaring, screeching teeth were all I could hear behind me, and I didn’t dare look to see where the other girls were.

As the Thirty-Two finished consuming the beach house, I heard the pop-pop-pop of Type Twenty-Eight guns. Li Mei and Overclock sprinted past me and dodged right toward an alley as the street exploded in shards of asphalt. The shots kept coming, faster and faster, Li Mei grabbing Overclock to pull her forward. I stared as I ran. If Li Mei was touching someone, she must be terrified.

They vanished into the alley, but I couldn’t see Sam. Where was Sam? I spun, sliding on the street as the pop-pop-pop filled my ears again. And then I saw her through a wall of pink that rippled and sparked as bullets bounced off it.

She was backpedaling away from the oncoming Mack. A bright, translucent pink shield surged from her fingers, covering her whole body and then some. More and more shots bounced off of her shield, rippling behind her. She staggered and dropped to a knee.

I started running the wrong way, even as the pink shields faded. I grabbed her and dragged her toward the left side of the street. Hopefully, it’d be far enough, fast enough. The Thirty-Two was as wide as a semi-truck was long, and I had no idea if we’d get clear or not.

I learned something new as I dragged Sam away from the massive Mack. Wood screeching sounded a lot different than steel screeching, but a Type Thirty-Two could rip through either without a problem.

“I can run by myself, Luciole,” Sam complained. I’ve got no connection to Connor, though. What can we do without Operators?”

I talked as we started running. “Not a lot. We can’t ask for weapons or supplies and most of our spells don’t work. Our Perks still do, for sure, but we definitely can’t Mana Surge.”

“Explains why mine faded off—watch out!”

Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!

We dipped around the part of a house that the big Mack hadn’t eaten yet as Mack guns opened up again. Chunks of drywall exploded around us. Then, just before it got to us, the fire stopped.

I listened. The screeching, grinding sounds faded a little. The stink of broken gas lines filled the air, though. “No fire and no explosives,” I whispered.

“That’s fine. I’m out of explosive bolts.”

I took a deep breath as the massive machine moved further away. “What the hell was that?”

“That was a Type Thirty-Two. The last time I saw one was…I was just a kid. Sooke is doomed. We’re going to die here,” I mumbled. The Mack was just too big. It might even be able to pop open shelters. Maybe not. It wasn’t a siege machine, not against Sanctuary’s magitech steel. But we were in serious trouble.

“...Luc…continue with…Spit. A strike…is on the…”

“Bentley!” I practically screamed, “Bentley, what do we do? Is the rest of the team alive?”

The anti-tank rifle fired.

“...unknown…connection is being…continue with the assault…Type Twenty-Ones…” Bentley’s voice wasn’t clear. Whatever the Thirty-Two was doing was messing with our connection with our Operators. But…

It sounded like we had to keep up the attack on Whiffen Spit. If a strike team took care of the Thirty-Two, they wouldn’t have time to stick around. We weren’t the only place with a giant Mack, I was sure. We were still on our own, but with the Thirty-Two—

Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop!

A trio of weevil-bot Type Twenty-Eights opened fire on us. Sam and I threw ourselves through a window into the half-destroyed house. We crawled as bullets whistled over our heads and ran out of what was left of the front door. “Why don’t their shots light off the gas?” Sam screamed.

“I don’t know!”

“...electro…gauss…”

The Twenty-Eights moved closer, splitting into two groups. One kept firing into the window we’d vacated while the others covered each other as they hunted for us. Pop-pop-pops echoed across the street. But with shaky connections to SHOCKS, all we could do was run and hide.

So we ran. The weevil bots fell behind as we sprinted across the street. A few Type Ones followed us; usually, they wouldn’t be a problem, but we didn’t have spells.

“In here!”

Sam grabbed my arm and yanked me into a house. We careened through the kitchen and slammed through a thin door. We were both tangled together when we tumbled down the rickety wooden steps into a basement. We silently untangled ourselves and ducked into a dirty, poorly-maintained bathroom. Sam locked the door behind her.

The gap under the door glowed yellow. It got brighter and brighter, and I aimed my Delphi at the door.

Then it disappeared.

Sam and I sat silently and shivered in the musty old bathroom. I struggled not to cry. But I lost. Where were Overclock and Li Mei? Were they still alive? Were they trying to attack the spit without us? And without James and Charlie? I curled up into a ball on the filthy tile floor and sobbed.

Behind me, I could hear Sam doing the same.