Ratcatcher, Jumail, Rowen, Elina, Carlos, Vasily, Edward, and Esmeralda all hurriedly stormed inside the elevator, allowing the doors to be closed before the sand or pieces of stones could have any chance of bricking something within a few exposed panels inside. The spacious transport elevator had clearly seen better days. Its walls were covered by cracks. The control panel had been dented in by some unknown force, causing Vasily to tear it all together in order to operate the thing. The lights were out; only plugs and wires hung from the ceiling, swaying back and forth in an eerie resemblance to ropes waiting to hang a prisoner.
With the roaring storm outside silenced, the group spread out. Elina checked the armor’s integrity on every student, leaving Rowen to examine Jumail. Satisfied with the results, the girl pushed herself into a corner, checking the map made by Ratcatcher’s power, while Vasily cursed slightly, struggling to get the elevator to move.
For the first time in her life, Ratcatcher gave someone the map. The name for her power was a bit mundane, but she wasn’t the one looking for fancy stuff. It took only the barest concentration to enforce the visibility of the 3D object in reality. In its compact form, it had the shape of a cube, blue in color, with the red markings showing the locations of all those she had marked. But when you grab the edge of this cube and drag, it unfurls into a long map, able to cover several meters in length.
Fortunately, that wasn’t necessary this time. The map in Elina’s hands was roughly the size of an ordinary sheet of paper, showing several crimson dots at the very edge of it: Mom, Dad, Bro, Nadya, and Wedge. The girl pressed the edges with her fingers, and the map rose in height, transmitting the signals of the trainees. One group was still on the surface, while another had already entered through the main entrance, spent a bit of time at the approximate location of the memorial plaque, most likely taking photos, and moved on deeper.
Giving the map to someone else felt… wrong. As if a part of her body was now in someone else’s hands. The trainee knew that she could’ve simply cancelled the map and thus returned it to herself, but the sense of slight wrongness and tingling sensation remained.
An image of Elina tickling Ratcatcher made her cringe. Anything but that!
“So, why did you say I have to stay away from the dra… erm, wyrm?” She asked to banish the wicked picture.
“The fact that the bastard is one of the two commanders of the Third Army isn’t enough for you?” Vasily asked and cursed after sparks spat into his face. The elevator stopped. Vasily slammed his fist into the metal next to the panel, denting it. His frustrations banished, the teen continued to work.
“Commanders? But I thought the Third Army had only one commander. First Ravager, then after she left the service, Wyrm Lord took over,” Ratcatcher said.
“Not knowing much about the Third Army, are you?” Rowen laughed, looking over Jumail for any signs of cuts. The Malformed’s underarmor had been cut in several places, allowing thick hair to protrude freely. But otherwise, Jumail was in perfect shape; even a stone hitting him in the black eye caused no bruise.
“You don’t know either,” Edward stated, tinkering with the drones together with his sister. “I saw you falling asleep over a history record yesterday.”
“We even pulled a blanket over you,” Esmeralda added.
Rowen raised a finger, but hearing the chuckles from Jumail and Elina, he simply waved his hand and joined the twins. The drones given to them were small, round things. The sand outside would’ve smashed them apart, leaving only wreckage. But within the safe confines of the underground base, these fingertip-shaped machines could dart back and forth, mapping the area and scanning for any nasty surprises left by the instructors.
“Nope,” Rowen admitted, helping to place the drones into the control socket on Esmeralda’s wrist. “Only know that Warlord Zero and several gifted scions of the Reclamation Army got betrayed by Iterna, and ever since, the relationships between the Wolf Tribe and Iterna have soured.”
“Well, I can’t blame you; this isn’t exactly a popular topic in Iterna.” Carlos sat on the floor, giving a pat to Jumail, so the boy moved his leg. “Listen here, boys and girls. The Third Army drank a lot of our blood in the past three hundred years. Ravager and the Redeemer had over two hundred direct combat engagements with each other, fighting tooth and nail over the lost relics or various settlements. Nowadays, things have calmed down a bit; my family even sells some obsolete junk to the Reclaimers. And our merchants have learned a secret. The current commander of the Third Army? He is a peer to any Elite in terms of pure might, yet the troops under his command view him as a weakling.” Carlos spread his arms. “I have no idea why, but apparently Captains Ivar and Scorpio are running the show in his place. Both of them are Wyrms, and both are at each other’s throats, vying for recognition and supremacy.”
“It is more than this,” Elina said. “Ivar’s scum. The Reclaimers and we obey the rules of war. No torturing prisoners, limiting civilian casualties—I am sure you know the drill. This bastard had deliberately allowed a large migration of the cannibalistic filth…” She stopped, throwing a glance at Jumail.
The boy shrugged his four front legs, mimicking the shoulder shrug of a normal human. His round torso swayed during the movement like a soap bubble, producing screeching tension against the metal floor. Rather than sit, Jumail splattered across the floor, spreading his thick legs wide. Ratcatcher hazarded a guess that he was doing it to sense the vibrations the same way her whispers do, but it felt a bit wrong to pry about something like that.
“Not offended,” Jumail laughed. “Anyway, I know that story. Iterna and the Reclamation Army were at a standstill during a border skirmish over some sort of abandoned laboratory. I believe it was the former satellite assembler?” He looked at Edward, and the boy gave a nod. “Cool. People prefer to settle in these ruins, ya know? It’s safer to stay inside the stone structures or hide behind a wall, and some facilities have survived the war.”
“So a village of sorts was there,” Ratcatcher made a guess.
“Yeah, and a sizeable one. Around three to five thousand…”
“Six thousand and fifty-nine people,” Elina quietly interrupted him.
“Thanks.” Jumail’s mandibles clicked, and Elina stepped in front of Carlos. She jumped when the long leg accidentally touched her. “A large group of Malformed attacked the settlement during that battle. An Iternian battle group moved on to help, despite the closer proximity of the Reclaimers, who maintained radio silence. Once the attack was repelled, the Reclaimers shelled our retreating forces and took over the settlement. The casualties were severe enough to leave our flank exposed, and the captain moved in his troops, flattering our artillery. Ivar later proclaimed his complete innocence, claiming he had no knowledge of the Malformed’s raid.”
“Claimed my ass!” Elina snapped. “I watched the documentary about it. Someone drove the Malformed into the field by blowing up their caves. The blue wyrm had used one enemy to break a deadlock with another. Just because the scumbag got weaseled out of the tribunal doesn’t change shit. He was the one who did it and put civilians in mortal danger. Just review his military campaigns. Blackmail, assassinations, starving out the opposition—everything for the sake of efficacy and speed. He is evil, everyone. If you see a blue wyrm nearby, scram as fast as you can.”
Ratcatcher crossed her arms over her chest and burrowed into the doors. Using civilians to distract an enemy… All thoughts about asking the dragon to let her ride him vanished from her mind. If the story was true, the man was a bastard. Does this mean all wyrms are… Nah, that is stupid. She threw a glance at Jumail, who played a rock-paper-scissor game with Carlos using one of his ‘beard’ arms. The boy was a Malformed, yet here he was among them, indistinguishable from the others, size aside. The people who lived near Scrapyard viewed her people as monsters. Does it mean that all of them were bad people?
No. Assholes could be found among any nationality or race. The trainee grinned and joined the boys’ game. Eliza looked at them but said nothing. They barely had enough time to play four games, one won by Carlos, two by Jumail, and one by her, when the doors opened, finally revealing the underground complex. The light of the trainees’ lenses illuminated the darkness.
Once, this was the main transport hub, connecting four massive hangars. The ceiling was high enough to allow an entire small skyscraper to fit into the place, and railway tracks decorated the floor, broken in place where massive industrial platforms had fallen on the side. Rows of towering black metal pillars led to the opposite entrance, supporting the ceiling and leaving pathways to allow trains with equipment to move across the hall. The walls of this place had suffered in the past, and the ground became covered with pieces of rubble.
Ratcatcher moved to leave the elevator, and Elina raised her hand, stopping everyone. She gestured with a finger, and Esmeralda released the drones, allowing the small machines to fly past the pillars, releasing bursts of electromagnetic waves. The maps uploaded prior to the mission had started filling up with new icons, updated in real time. A previously accessible entrance has been marked as blocked. A column disappeared from the map. Pieces of debris and purple markings appeared on the map, making Elina grasp Rowen by the shoulder.
“An ambush!”
The first attacker jumped from behind a column, fifteen meters ahead. Fashioned after a human body, this mechanical creature had its entire left arm replaced with a long cannon connected to a large barrel behind its back with a chord. Twin crimson lenses flashed in the dark, and the robot fired, sending out a bubble.
Rowen threw up his arm, creating a shield before the elevator doors. The bubble exploded against it, spreading the yellow paint in a half moon pattern behind the elevator. Before the foe could fire again, the shield disappeared, allowing Carlos and Jumail to charge forward. Carlos had turned into a streak of blur, weaved around the pillars, and attacked another robot. He grabbed the machine by the wrist of the humanoid hand, preventing it from using its oversized claw against him. With a spin, Barjoni sent his opponent into a pillar, splattering the machine against it. Before it could bring to bear its oversized cannon, Carlos had already planted its elbow against the chest plate. The teen had bulged the chest plate deep within the chest with four blindingly quick elbow blows and spun in place one last time, cutting off the machine’s head with a round kick.
Jumail jumped aside, evading a shot aimed at him. Carrying himself with just six legs, Jumail used two of his gigantic limbs to swing aside from the projectile’s path, advancing steadily and without hurry. While passing one of the pillars, Jumail struck to the left, cartwheeling the robot hiding there a good dozen meters away. The machine ahead used its moment to fire at the Malformed, but the shot was blocked, stopped dead by Elina’s snap.
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The machine began to aim again, only to stumble at Rowen’s gesture. Jumail used this moment to lunge forward, mowing the robot beneath his eight legs as Carlos raced past him, aiming to finish off the other robot. Ratcatcher kept standing by Elina’s side, surveying the darkness in anticipation of another attack. Something bothered her. This was too easy. Given time, Carlos alone could have… A noise attracted her attention, and she looked up, spying two shapes leaping among the tops of columns.
“Above us!” she cried out. Of course! More than one dimension, more than one vector for an attack! The ground forces served as a distraction so that those above could deliver the killing blow. Well played, but no dice. She thought fiercely.
Elina snapped her fingers, swatting away the spit of paint coming from above. Where the robots on the ground were bulky, roughly matching the students’ sizes, the ones above looked like victims of starvation. Their thoraxes were slightly thicker than Ratcatcher’s shoulder, and their legs and arms ended up with long and hooked claws, freely rotating around on the wrists. The robots used them to scale the pillars with ease. Pipes came out of their jaws, spitting paint at the group.
Vasily raised his hand and released a burst of garbage code aimed at a robot above. It didn’t exactly hack into its program but simply overloaded its mainframe with billions of conflicting commands, halting the robot in mid-flight long enough for it to miss an opportunity to secure itself and fall on the floor. Vasily kept pointing his gauntlet at the machine, not allowing it to flush out the malware. Its partner evaded Elina’s shot and jumped to a pillar, looking at Rowen’s exposed back.
“Edie, Esmi, throw me at him!” Ratcatcher yelled, jumping on the twins’ shoulders.
They didn’t hesitate. Aided by the hydraulics of their combat plates, they hurled the trainee like an arrow toward the robot that was leaping between the columns. The force behind their throw had easily lifted her ten meters in the air, but as she closed in on her target, the robot reached out for a nearby column and leapt away, trying to gain distance between the two. The smaller head moved, preparing to spit paint at the girl.
“Elina! Help!” Ratcatcher cried out.
“Way ahead of you, Eliza,” the leader said calmly, and she heard a boom.
A moment later, the shockwave slammed into her side, correcting the trainee’s course. The spat missed her by a meter, and Ratcatcher found herself flying at the drone. The machine, already clinging to the metal surface on four limbs, had tried to jump off it to pass beside the trainee. Ratcatcher only smiled, releasing her secret weapon.
A tail could be a hindrance in combat involving power armors. It was simply too thin to be supported and shielded by proper armor. But a limb was a limb. And so Ratcatcher spent sleepless nights reading all she could about the muscle fibers and experimenting with them within the confines of Artificer’s laboratory. The Elite could have solved this equation in seconds, but she was the one who would be in the field. She had to do it herself.
And after two weeks, she came up with a solution. Normally, when she wore power armor, her tail would rest right behind her spine. Covered by a thin layer of super-hardened metal alloy, its strength was enhanced by a layer of artificial muscle fibers. The biggest challenge lay in solving the problem of how to release her newfound weapon. But after tinkering with the armor some more, she finally proudly presented Artificer with her solution.
And promptly had to redo it from scratch after forgetting about maintaining the suit’s integrity within the irradiated areas. But now her tail struck out from an opening. Like a whip, it wrapped around the robot’s neck, dragging the machine after the heavier body. The girl landed on the pillar, piercing the stone with both hands and legs, and a moment later the thrashing body had slammed into the stone. The thick armor of her combat plate fully diffused the impact of the collision, leaving the girl ready to fight right away.
Holding on just her feet, Ratcatcher brought about her fists. Being unable to use your natural claws mattered little when each of your blows carried a weight of several tons behind it. She broke the machine’s joints, dodged the paint spit by tilting her head, and responded with a brutal hook that cratered the robot’s head into the wall. The move had broken her footing, and together they started falling.
She spied a movement in the ventilation shaft on a wall, worryingly taking it for more machines. But with a breath, she recognized this figure to be Augustus, and the instructor disappeared just as quickly as he showed up.
Ratcatcher and the machine fell together, her tail already hidden beneath her armor. The robot’s carapace broke beneath her fists, and the sheer weight of her power armor shattered it completely, sending ripples across the solid stone floor like waves across water. She stood up, checking the HUD for any sign of recorded damage, and breathed out, relieved that it was still at zero. Power armor was the best, even though it somewhat limited the range of motion. Edward crashed the thrashing robot’s body beneath his legs while Vasily still held the machine pinned to the ground with the viruses released from his gauntlet.
“Gather up!” Elina snapped, and the group quickly rushed to assemble in the middle of the hall. They stood with their backs to each other, piercing the darkness with the light of their oculars. “Esmeralda?”
“We are in the clear,” the teen replied, calling back the drones.
“Good,” Elina nodded, and the team moved out, slowly and steadily moving toward the entrance. She reached for the map and checked the other groups. One was way above them, slowly moving down from the first floor. Ratcatcher became worried after witnessing how the lights moved back and forth on the map. “Edward. Why are they stalling?”
The teen looked up, using his mental power to bypass the floors. Where electronic communications could not reach, his own power could look without a problem. Before going in, Elina explained her plan to the other team leaders. Edward and Esmeralda will use their powers to both observe and relay Elina’s commands. An unnatural sense of worry coming at even intervals would be a signal to retreat. Overwhelming dread is a signal for help. Joy and happiness would serve as a means to speed up the group.
“They are annoyed. Worried. Smug and excited,” Edward said. “But not afraid or angry.”
“They’ve probably already found the prize and are now fighting the defenders.” Vasily slapped his leg. “The first one was supposed to be close to the entrance. Damn it, I wanted us to be first!”
“Don’t sweat about that; we are not in a race,” Elina advised, looking at the map. The second team was on the lowest level. They had traversed the network of emergency escape ladders and were now moving through the corridors. “Esmeralda. They are heading for a dead end. Warn them.”
“On it!” The girl saluted, and Ratcatcher felt a tingling sensation at the back of her neck. From her brief experience with the two, she noted that Edward could detect emotions with greater precision and expand his own power at a vast distance in a narrow cone. Esmeralda, on the other hand, had way more brute force behind the emotions she was sending out.
The girl stopped and pressed both her hands to the helmet, gasping loudly. Elina looked at her, and Ratcatcher put her hand on Esmeralda’s shoulder when the girl whimpered.
“I am so sorry.” Esmeralda sniffed her nose. “I planned to send the Akebia Group’s leader a sense of foreboding trepidation and, and…” She clenched her fists, looking at the others. “And I send them a sense of constipation instead!” The team burst into laughter, forgetting about the possible danger for a second. Ratcatcher lowered herself on a knee, imagining the sheer annoyance of the teens below, and felt her suit sucking in the tears from her cheeks, reworking them into drinking water. Even Elina bent in two, struggling to contain her chuckling. “That’s not a laughing matter!” Esmeralda tapped on the floor. “He is pissed off! I n-need to apologize, I…”
“Oh, Esmeralda,” Rowen coughed out. “Never change.”
“Trepidation, constipation... the same thing, really!” Carlos laughed out loud, grabbing his sides. “Who wouldn’t mess up the two?”
“Besides, they are turning back! You did a great job!” Ratcatcher tried to cheer the girl up, pointing out how the group below changed direction.
“Live and learn.” Elina gave Esmeralda an encouraging pat. “Move out, team. The first of our targets should be in the next room.”
****
On the lowest floor of the underground complex, the gigantic steel body stood motionless. Incendiary explosives were wrapped around its frame like ceremonial ribbons. The systems of the ancient mech still worked, emitting short bursts of dimensional waves. Metal floors, stone, and anomalous EMPs in the atmosphere were nothing compared to its marvel of technological genius. The waves emitted by the machine’s sensors traveled through two dimensions, collecting data on any object in the vicinity and returning it when it reached a radius of half a kilometer. Once back, the advanced computer had begun its calculations, deducing the visuals of its surroundings and the whereabouts of the closest lifeforms.
“Parasites. Change in genetic structure is within acceptable parameters,” the machine hummed. “Humans. Genetic code altered. Determining severity… Unable to find a match within the data logs. Initiating comparison sub-routines. Rerouting additional power to initiate the independent thought protocol. Sentience gained for two picoseconds. Calculations concluded. Decision made. Not a bioweapon. Proceeding with the scanning routine.”
The computer voice stirred the brain, and the person locked within the armored casket had awoken. He tried to move his fingers, and with horror, he found himself unable to move. The man tried to open his eyes, but only darkness filled his senses. He heard the beeping sound of the processors working and the mumbling of the machine, and it has calmed him a bit. These sounds were familiar to him. But from where?
He tried to call for help, but no words left his lips. Confused, the man tried to concentrate. Who was he? He had a name, right? Everyone has a name. The panic slowly increased when, in an attempt to remember, only pure murkiness came. Was this some kind of prank? Did he drink too much last night? Who was he, dammit? He tried to call for help again, and this time the man noticed that he couldn’t open his mouth.
Why can’t I breathe? The needles piercing the brain matter had tried to send sedatives to calm the subject, but those drugs had long since run out. The man thrashed in the utter darkness, experiencing the worst migraine he had ever felt, trying to breathe in, trying to feel anything; anything at all aside from pain. A single thought pulsated through the swollen brain. Why can’t I breathe? God, why can’t I open my mouth?!
Streaks of blood rose from the brain, and the machine stopped for a brief moment, sending an immediate report to the medical room. The human had failed to access the controls. It waited patiently for five seconds, but no answer came, not even from the virtual minds running the facility. This confused the machine; such a thing was impossible, inconceivable! Duty-driven, the machine had tried to solve the problem itself, scanning now not only for lifeforms but also for any source of medicaments. It found none.
Contradictions filled the calculations. Human life was of the utmost importance. The mobility suit XR-4567, codenamed “Wheelchair,” existed for a sole reason. To aid the human brain inside it. Its computational power and physical strength should have complemented the human conscience, allowing him to carry on guard duty. For this reason, its sub-routines prolonged the existence of the damaged brain until the time when the personnel could attend to the wounded and restore its functions. A machine must serve the man, not the other way around.
In an attempt to placate its user, the virtual brain granted the brain partial control over the fingers. Judging by the spasmodic twitching and increased brain activity, it had only worsened the situation. Without immediate chirurgical intervention, the human will expire not in years, but in months. Perhaps the machine should shut down the brain? But it can’t, not after the order to secure the facility! This is a violation of protocol. The failure to preserve the human was also a breach of the protocol. Contradiction. The machine had prepared to activate sentience for an independent decision when the results of the latest scan came back.
Three lifeforms are several levels above. One is the size of a battle walker, and the other two are roughly human-shaped. But their genetic codes have been undeniably altered. Escaped bioweapons.
The man screamed, no longer in pain but with pure rage, when the combat stimulants flooded his bloodstream. In accordance with the security protocols, the machine transferred over the control functions to the human, focusing the deceased brain on the targets at hand. And focus he did. Through pain and rage, he shouted.
“Freaks!”
The suit took a step and the explosives went off, sending tremors through the facility and engulfing the surrounding area in flames. A stream of super-heated flame rolled across the ground, hungrily devouring the remains of the dead and eliminating everything in its path, stopped and contained only by the walls of the complex.
“Freaks!” Dynamics roared, conveying only a small part of the hatred bubbling inside the man. He didn’t know why they needed to die. He still has no idea who he is. But the rage-inducing drugs and stimulants spurred him into action, driving the man toward the goal of eliminating escapees. Claws scratched harmlessly against the chest, trying to find the non-existent mouth and pry it open.
A single goal. A world of pain. Kill them, rend them limb by limb, choke the life out of these monsters, and the pain will disappear. It had to.
His hand hit the ceiling. And it broke.