Now
“I have located potential survivors.” Volkharion’s voice was cold. As if they were delivery a perfunctory bit of information.
“Show me,” Caretaker said.
“Scout Drone 2.” Volkharion sent the live image to Caretaker’s face-plate.
Caretaker enlarged it with a gesture. The first noticeable thing was the red emergency lights flickering on and off. So there was still some energy available down in the sublevels. The second was the prone body of a Threnosh in standard civilian style power armor. It was face first on the floor in what looked like a storage chamber close to the lift shaft. The power armor was mostly undamaged except for its back, which was torn to shreds. Tellingly the damage didn’t appear to breach the innermost layer.
“The organisms destroyed the energy source,” Volkharion said.
“But nothing else? Perhaps they took it,” Caretaker said. “Please direct your drone to the face.”
The image swung around as the tiny, insectile drone flew up and around to focus on the Threnosh’s helmet. Their face-plate was flat on the ground.
A slight frown creased Caretaker’s brow. “We found hardly any traces of Threnosh and trueskins. What makes this one different?”
“I believe I have discovered the reason for that.” Volkharion sent a different live image from another drone to Caretaker.
Caretaker muttered a barely audible curse in a very un-Threnosh manner.
“This is on sublevel five.”
It was difficult to make out through the flickering red lights, but stare long enough and one saw something that would stick with them forever. It was a pile of power armor parts. Broken and torn, bloodstained. Of the Threnosh that once wore them, there were no other signs.
“I have seen similar before,” Caretaker said in a low voice. “In lairs. Except in those places it was the discarded bones of what the monsters ate.”
Volkharion started. “The organisms ate them?” The thought of it shook their stoic demeanor.
“Probability indicates that is the case,” Caretaker said. They focused back on the image of the unmoving Threnosh. “Mark that location. We’ll check on them.”
“Acknowledged.” A tiny, glowing dot appeared on the team map of the facility.
“You said survivors.”
Volkharion sent a different live image to Caretaker. This time the drone alighted in front a thick, metallic door. It was enormous. Similar to the ones back at their base that guarded their energy core and armory. The door’s surface was marred by a multitude of claw marks.
“I believe you have discovered the reason that the invasive organisms assaulted this research facility. They really wanted to get inside there. Good job, Volkharion, this is vital information.” Caretaker nodded. “Now, what about the invasive organisms?”
“They have split into two major clusters. One group,” Volkharion sent the live image, thermal, to Caretaker, “has taken up ambush positions on sublevel one around the lift shaft.” They sent a different image. “The second cluster is gathered around the lift shaft on sublevel nine. There are a handful of scattered ones throughout the sublevels, but I believe they will be drawn to us once we begin combat operations.”
“They do not wish for us to make it sublevel ten.” Caretaker’s eyes focused back to the live image of the enormous, metallic door. “Very well. Listen up everyone. This is the plan…”
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Whoosh dropped down into sublevel one and hit the floor without slowing. Jets pulsed in time with each glide of their legs, each pump of their arms. They zoomed down the corridor and several invasive organisms emerged out of their ambush positions in a couple of open chambers on either side to take swipes at the Threnosh.
Caretaker watched it all from the live images that Volkharion’s insectile drones were sending back. They found themselves holding their breath when a clawed hand struck Whoosh across the shoulder. They needn’t have worried. Whoosh was moving too fast to be stopped and their armor was strong. There was a spray of sparks in the flickering red light, but nothing more.
Some of the organisms gave chase, but the majority stayed in place.
“Shira, you are next. Push through to the second junction. Clear and secure. Go.”
The black-clad Threnosh was disconcertingly difficult to see in the darkness. Even with the visual enhancement capabilities in their helmet, Caretaker was having trouble tracking Shira as they slipped down into the lift shaft.
Shira was a dark blur as they reached the first ambush point, an open door on the left. The organisms seemed to be shocked by their sudden appearance in front of them. They slashed out with clawed hands, too fast to follow without enhanced means. Blood sprayed from sliced necks a split-second after.
Two dying organisms twitched as Shira held them up by their necks. Their hands, gauntlets drank in the blood. The speed at which they drained the organisms was frightening.
The rest of the organisms screeched into action. They charged, outraged.
Shira flung the half-drained corpses at the mass. Then they turned and ran further down the corridor. Fast enough to avoid being caught and stopped, but slow enough that the organisms were sufficiently baited. They ignored the second ambush point as per Caretaker’s orders. It was very difficult. Running from blood screamed against all their instincts. They desired nothing more than to turn around and slash, bite and drink till they couldn’t any longer. The only thing that kept them moving toward to the second junction was the idea that there, they would be able to stand and fight and kill and drink.
If Caretaker saw the look on Shira’s face then they would’ve been highly concerned. Fortunately, their monstrous face mask hid the wide, feral smile.
“Adjudicator. To the first junction. Whoosh needs a clear path on their return.”
The Threnosh’s flexible, metallic tendrils seemed to moved with barely restrained eagerness as they lashed and twirled around their power armored body. They gripped the floor with the harsh rasp of metal on metal as the Threnosh swung themselves down to the sublevel.
Adjudicator’s power armor was heavy. Their running steps on the floor were loud. The organisms at the second ambush point in a chamber on the right further down the corridor from the first ambush point heard them coming. Although a handful joined the rest that were chasing Shira the majority focused on the approaching threat.
They came screeching out of the open doorway.
Adjudicator wrapped the two organisms in the front with their tendrils. They charged into the organisms as the two in their grasp writhed under the effects of the energy drain. The Threnosh threw their bulky power armored body into the mass of organisms. Their body was a weapon as thick, heavy armor bludgeoned into the organisms.
Organisms bit and clawed at Adjudicator. They cut deep gouges and tore out chunks from the metal armor, but the damage slowly repaired itself as the Threnosh continued to suck the life energy from the two organisms in their grasp.
The Threnosh relinquished their tendrils’ grip on the desiccated husks and dropped them to the floor. They thrust one tendril out like a spear. It pierced into the stomach of one organism. They extended it to its maximum range of twenty feet and slammed it to the left side of the corridor. The organisms caught in between screeched in pain at their broken bones. As they drained the life out of the organism writhing on the tendril the damage to their armor increased their rate of repair.
Adjudicator continued to move down the corridor. They lashed out with their tendrils and battered organisms with their armored fists and boots. The broken and injured they left behind on their brutal run to the first junction. They would’ve preferred to take their time to drain the life out of each and every one of the organisms, but the tendrils could only take from one a time. The others could take care of the rest.
“Dralig, you are in the lead. Dispatch the injured organisms quickly and head to the possible survivor’s location. Frequency and Volkharion, stay behind me,” Caretaker said.
The group moved briskly through the corridor. Dralig killed the injured organisms with efficient stabs of their short blade. Caretaker drew their own spire-purchased one-handed sword and did the same. The sword was made of an unknown metal, lighter and stronger than a steel equivalent. Its mono-molecular dual edges sliced through the organism’s tough skin as if they were thin paper.
The first junction loomed ahead. Adjudicator had pushed the organisms deeper into the next corridor, leaving the four-way junction clear. They could be seen standing in the middle of the corridor battling in the midst of organisms like an immovable bulwark.
“To the right,” Caretaker said.
“I have the location,” Dralig said.
“Volkharion, assist Dralig. Secure the potential survivor. If they are alive bring them back.”
“Acknowledged.” Volkharion moved after Dralig, who was already headed down the corridor.
“Frequency, send your mobile emitters to the next junction.” Caretaker pointed down the corridor to the left. “Create an interdiction field. I do not want the organisms chasing Whoosh making it through.”
“It will be done.” Frequency’s emitters detached from their power armor and floated down the corridor.
“Wait until Whoosh has passed the junction.”
“I will try.”
Caretaker ignored the hint of teasing in Frequency’s voice. They were much like Kynnro. The two had begun to approach things with a certain irreverence, especially in the recent months. It was irksome, but it hadn’t yet affected their performance, so Caretaker saw no reason to reprimand them. Yet.
The red emergency lights flickered. Down one corridor, Adjudicator battled. Further down, Shira did the same. Their readings were good. The two had unique abilities that allowed their power armor to repair themselves so long as they had biological organisms to drain. They made the perfect front line. As Honor had taught. They tanked the damage, while being able to deal it out just as well.
Caretaker was satisfied with how the plan was going. They held their recoilless rifle at the ready. They just needed to wait for Whoosh to complete their circuit through the sublevel and return to the first junction. Ideally, Frequency’s sound field would incapacitate any organisms still chasing them. Any that survived could be dispatched with at their leisure.
Once Dralig and Volkharion returned with the survivor, if that indeed was the case. Then they could proceed to sublevel nine and deal with the last major cluster of organisms. After that they could find out what was in the last sublevel that had attracted the organisms in the first place.
Their orders from above were clear. Nothing beyond destroying the organisms and rescuing any survivors. In and out. However, Caretaker was a curious sort. They needed to know what was down there. Their instincts said that it was important. Besides, they didn’t answer to the Threnosh Collective, not directly at least, they answered to Honor. And they were confident that he would share the same sentiment.
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“There are organisms ahead,” Volkharion said.
“You did not detect these earlier,” Dralig said.
“They were dormant.”
“How many do you see?”
“Seven. Three in the closest chamber. Four further down the corridor, past the location of the potential survivor.”
Stolen story; please report.
“I will engage the three in the chamber. Will you be able to do the same with the rest?”
“Yes.”
Volkharion deployed three of their four combat drones. The aerial drone would’ve been hampered by the confines of the corridor, so it remained attached to their upper left arm. The canine drone, feline drone, and gremlin drone detached from Volkharion’s power armor and bounded off towards the organisms further down the corridor.
Dralig raced on their heels. The three organisms in the chamber emerged from within. Drawn out by the noise from the canine drone and the gremlin drone. They didn’t notice the physically powerful Threnosh bearing down on them.
Dralig’s four-armed power armor was big and heavily armored thanks to many upgrades from the spire. They were now a full two heads taller than Honor. Only Primal’s power armor was bigger and stronger.
The Threnosh slammed into the organisms at a full run. Their shield held in their lower left arm was like a battering ram. They heard bones break.
They backhanded another organism across its flat face with their upper left fist. The thick metal gauntlet sent several sharp teeth flying.
The third organism flapped up to the ceiling on leathery wings and dived down with clawed feet aimed at Dralig’s face. They threw their upper right arm up at the last second. The organism’s claws dug deep into the armor, but didn’t breach it.
The organism kept its grasp while it flapped its wings in Dralig’s face. Its clawed hands cut at the metal of their helmet.
Dralig grabbed it around its head with their upper left hand. They pulled it down closer with their superior strength and plunged their short, stabbing blade into its gut with their right lower hand.
They twisted the blade as the organism screeched out its death throes.
Dralig pulled their blade out and cast the dying organism aside as they went to dispatch the remaining two.
Meanwhile, down the corridor, Volkharion guided their drones in their own fight.
The canine drone sprayed a barrage of projectiles from its four-barreled gun head. One organism was riddled and dropped to the floor.
Another organism skimmed the ceiling. It dived toward the canine drone only to be met in midair by the feline drone.
The drone’s buzzsaw-like head spun as it met the organism with all four clawed paws. The pair crashed to the ground. The drone ended up on top with its metallic claws securely fastened into the organism’s torso.
The organism pushed and struck at the drone in a futile attempt to pry it off. Its screeches turned frantic when the drone sank its buzzsaw-like head into its chest.
A third organism rushed to its clustermate’s aid. The gremlin drone intercepted it with a shoulder charge. The drone was smaller than the organism, but its metal body was heavier. It bowled the organism over to the ground. Before the organism could get back to its feet the drone jumped up and landed with both of its feet on either side of the organism, pining it in place.
The gremlin drone’s clawed feet cut into the organism’s leathery wings. The drone raked its clawed hands across the organisms face over and over. Its proportionally long arms allowed to reach down to the ground from a standing position.
The organism’s face and head was a red ruin when the gremlin drone finally bent down and clamped metal teeth over the organism’s neck. A violent shake and tug ended the fight.
The single remaining organism slammed into the gremlin drone and knocked it to the ground. The organism screeched and clawed at the drone in a frenzy. Tough and sharp claws scored deep gouges into the drone’s armor. It struck something vital in the drone’s right arm. The appendage immediately locked into place, dead.
The feline drone saved the gremlin drone. It rammed the organism. Buzzsaw-like head to head. Just like that the fight was over.
“Targets terminated,” Volkharion said.
Dralig pulled their blade out of an organism’s throat. “We proceed to the potential survivor’s location.”
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Whoosh skated through the corridors. They glided along walls to take tight turns. They jump or contorted themselves to fight through broken doors. Once or twice they were forced to plow their way through with a burst from their jets. All to stay just out of reach of the pursuing organisms.
It was a deadly balancing act. Fast enough to stay out of reach, but slow enough to keep the organisms chasing.
An alert chimed in Whoosh’s ear holes. It was loud and shrill. Their face-plate flashed red. A quick glance told them that they were running low on power for the jets.
Whoosh slowed and leaned close to the ground to swing around a corner. Their hand reached out to grab the bottom of the wall to help pull them through the turn. The facility schematic overlaid on their vision showed that the first junction was just a few quick turns away. They had done as ordered. They had led a large number of the organisms on a deadly chase throughout sublevel one. Now it was up to the team to take care of the rest. Judging by the rapidly dwindling energy gauge at the bottom of their face-plate, Whoosh’s part in the Task was just about finished.
“Subleader, I am inbound.” Whoosh spoke into the team channel.
“Acknowledged. Proceed at all haste. Do not slow.” Caretaker turned to Frequency. “Initiate sound field as soon as Whoosh is clear.”
“Understood.” Frequency kept their eyes on the projected map of the facility in their face-plate and on the small, fast-moving dot that represented Whoosh.
Caretaker held their rifle at the ready. The probability that Frequency’s sound field was capable of stopping the organisms was nearly a hundred percent, but they always made it a point to take into account the improbable occurring, as Honor constantly stated.
The flickering red lights made looking down to the end of the long corridor less than ideal. So, it was no surprise that a glint of armor was their only warning that Whoosh had turned the corner. The next thing they knew the fast Threnosh was halfway down the corridor.
Caretaker didn’t so much as blink when Whoosh skidded to a stop in front of them.
Whoosh, took a half step back before straightening. Otherwise they would’ve ended up face-plate to face-plate with Caretaker. The corners of Whoosh’s mouth threatened to rise as they saluted.
Caretaker ignored the lack of discipline displayed. There was never any danger of a collision. Their predictive algorithm told them as much. Whoosh just had a tendency to try to get under their skin. The only thing that saved Whoosh from a serious reprimand was the fact that they never let it get in the way of task performance.
“I am running low on gas,” Whoosh said.
Caretaker recognized the saying taken from Honor. Whoosh’s jets didn’t run on an energy source taken from the ancient remains of dead native organisms. It had sounded ridiculous when Honor had described what powered the vast majority of his world.
“Fall back with Frequency, you are to take a defensive role if necessary,” Caretaker said.
“Subleader. We have a positive on the survivor.” Dralig’s voice came in over the comms.
“Status?”
“Alive and unconscious. Trueskin is disabled.”
“Injuries?”
“None. Appears to have succumbed to exhaustion.”
“Bring them here.”
It didn’t take too long for Dralig and Volkharion to appear with the survivor in the former’s arms. Dralig placed the unconscious Threnosh unceremoniously on the floor. Their power armor identified as a standard researcher’s according to the identifier. Even noncombat grade power armor contained safety features that functioned without energy. This meant that the Threnosh inside was as secure as they could reasonably hope given their situation.
The Threnosh’s face was a dark gray with smooth tones. Their eyes were shut. Caretaker couldn’t tell what was wrong and they lacked the proper equipment to risk extracting the Threnosh. All Caretaker was responsible for was getting the survivor off site. Medical personnel would handle the rest from there.
Caretaker beckoned Whoosh over. “You will take the survivor to the staging area.” Whoosh opened their mouth to speak, but Caretaker cut them off. “Your trueskin has sufficient physical strength to carry the researcher, even without energy for your jets.”
“My concern was that I do not know if I will be capable of carrying them up to the first level since the lift platform is inoperative,” Whoosh said.
“Dralig will assist you.”
The Threnosh in the large, four-armed power armor nodded briskly and hoisted the unconscious Threnosh survivor just as quickly as they had put them down. They marched down the corridor back to the lift shaft at a quick walk.
Whoosh, not wanting to be last, quickly rolled after Dralig. They were forced to squeeze around the bigger Dralig to get ahead.
Dralig was walking down the very center of the corridor and they were holding their unoccupied arms out to the side, wider than it seemed natural. Were they trying to block Whoosh deliberately? A tiny frown creased Caretaker’s brow. Was this similar to what Honor experienced when dealing with some of their other team members.
“Volkharion,” Caretaker eyed the gremlin drone with its right arm held stiffly in front of its head, as if it was warding off an invisible blow, “your drones are damaged.”
“We encountered seven organisms that I had missed in the initial scouting run. All dispatched.”
“Are your drones still combat effective?”
“Yes,” Volkharion said without hesitation.
“You will provide defense for Frequency and support for Adjudicator and Shira,” Caretaker glanced at the live images focused on the two. They had things well in hand. As shown clearly by the pile of organism bodies piling around them as they continued to fight a short distance away, “if necessary. I will take care of the organisms caught in Frequency’s sound field.” They looked at Frequency. “I will notify you when I reach the edge of your field. Be prepared to turn it off.”
Caretaker walked briskly down the long corridor. They placed their recoilless rifle on their back. It clicked into place held by the magnetic lock. They drew their new sword from the metallic scabbard at their hip. It was spire-purchased. The double-edged blade was seventy-six point two centimeters long, made out of an unknown metal that was stronger and lighter than the best that the Threnosh could manufacture. The hilt was a small, simple bar of the same metal that ran perpendicular where the handle of a complex, composite polymer met the blade. What made the weapon worthy of its extremely costly price in Caretaker’s estimation was the nature of its edges. Somehow they were the thickness of a molecule and never needed sharpening. This meant that they could cut through solid steel with the proper technique combined with the strength upgrades to their spire exoskeleton.
They were looking forward to testing the sword out on live hostile organisms.
Where there was a sword, there must be a shield. At least that was what Honor had said once.
Hence the small disk that Caretaker pulled from their left thigh. They placed their hand through the handle and pressed a button. Around the raised, concave disk a circle of shimmering white energy flared to life. It grew to a total diameter of the same length as his blade. It too was purchased from the spire.
Caretaker had only been able to test both in practice so far. Using it against debilitated opponents was perhaps unfair, but this was combat. When facing invaders from beyond your world, that sought only to kill and perhaps eat you, then you used every method at your disposal to win. For losing meant not only your demise, but perhaps your entire world.
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Then
Cal winced. Telekinetically shoving the group of gremlins on the left sent stabs of pain into his brain. He hadn’t completely recovered from the beating he took against the gremlin alpha a little under a week ago. Using his powers at a high level so soon wasn’t ideal. Not that he knew exactly what he could and couldn’t do as far as pushing his mental powers. Did it work like his muscles? Consistently pushing them past their limits led to strains and injury. What did it mean for his brain? If his brain was even the source of his telekinesis and telepathy? He really needed to buy more of the tutorials and unlock more sections of his personal account page. Maybe if he survived this raid he might just gain enough Universal Points to do so.
Painful, but necessary, his telekinetic shove sent the group of human-sized gremlins to the ground. This allowed several members of the team to bludgeon and stab them to death. Naturally, Nila and her ridiculously heavy custom metal bat, which was really more like a chunk of metal, led the way.
Cal frowned at the idiot kids behind Nila. Team F.C.W.R., minus the injured Olo, and the girl, who went by Mads, a skeet shooting champion, although she was saving her precious shells and was currently bludgeoning the prone gremlins with a field hockey stick. At least the girl had a note from her dad giving her permission to join the raid, though the handwriting did look suspicious and the dad had been in and out of consciousness at the converted hospital from a nasty leg fracture. The nominal leader of the raid, the police officer Demi Lawrence, took it without question, simply stating that the girl’s marksmanship skills might be useful.
As for the three punk kids, Gene, Bastien and Johnny. They had apparently sneaked into the forbidden zone around the high school turned spawn point and were already there when the raid team had arrived. How they had survived? Cal didn’t know and didn’t care. Again expedience took precedence over the right decision, at least as far as he was concerned. They couldn’t waste time taking the kids back to safety, so they got to be part of the raid.
Cal didn’t like any of it. Too dangerous for the kids. It was already too dangerous for everyone else. He suspected even for him and his brothers. He already had a headache going in, had it for the past five days straight. It had only gotten worse.
Cal spat out a curse. Another group of gremlins emerged from a cluster of single story, modular buildings, classrooms, judging by the air conditioner units hanging on the outside walls. He could only manage a smaller telekinetic shove, so he aimed at their ankles. They tripped like someone had pulled an invisible rope across their path.
The raid members on the right side fell on them quickly, led by a woman named Keisha Johnson, Cal remembered her name. An ex-college athlete, big and strong even without a skill that enhanced her physical strength a bit more. The woman smashed a gremlin’s head like that crazy Gallagher dude and his watermelons. The way she wielded a two-handed sledgehammer in one hand definitely showed that there was something more to her strength than being big and throwing heavy things down the field.
“Cruces!” Demi rounded on Cal. “Where are your brothers going?” She gesticulated in the distance toward the high school’s main buildings.
Sure enough, both Eron and Remy were sprinting across the concrete. Cal shook his head, so fast, it was like watching special effects in a movie. Even if he was also capable of such impossible things he still found it hard to believe. How many months had it been since the spires appeared? Seven, eight? His head felt foggy and painful. It was hard to think, so he focused back in the moment with some difficulty.
“It’s part of the plan.”
“No! It isn’t!”
“Uh… they’re going to scou— going to clear the buildings first. This wasn’t the plan? Are you sure?” It wasn’t part of the plan. As a matter of fact, Cal didn’t know what the hell his brothers were doing.
“The plan was to move as a group through all the buildings.” Demi ground out the words like she was chewing gristle.
“Right… er… they’re going to do that thing, we… uh… talked about.” Cal tried to smile, but a brain stab turned it into a grimace.
Demi looked like she wanted to yell in Cal’s face. He didn’t much care. His head hurt. He had to keep over a dozen people alive. His idiot brothers were going rogue.