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4.12

4.12

Now, Threnosh World

“Tracking target, temporary designation: Fast One has entered City Section 61. Projected destination is security control station. Combat drones holding defensive positions per command directives.”

“Acknowledged, moving to intercept,” Whoosh said as they kept an ear on the combat updates provided by one of the communicators back at their base camp on the ruined bridge connecting the island Orchestral Meridian was located on to the continent.

The Threnosh engaged the jets on their power armor as they glided on metallic streets at speeds of over 500 kilometers per hour. Their power armor enhanced their perceptions and reflexes to allow them to cope with the extreme speeds as they wove through narrow streets and tight turns.

“I have the target on the tactical map. Ready to provide directions to my traps,” Rodinian said through the comms.

“Do not spring them until I am in position,” Whoosh said.

Frequency’s efforts to counteract the interference that had been playing havoc with their communications and surveillance were vital. Without their measures the Threnosh would’ve been going into this crucial battle blind.

As it was, they were already on the back foot.

The corrupted had suddenly attacked in overwhelming numbers all along the edges of the city sections that the T-Men had managed to reclaim.

The timing wasn’t fortuitous as Salamander and Frequency had gone off to rescue PJ15 and Honor or perhaps that was the reason for the assault.

Whoosh didn’t care much either way. They were focused on redeeming their previous defeat to the unnamed Inheritor that moved with surprising speed without the aid of power armor.

Whoosh received a ping in their faceplate. Directions from base. The projected overlay pointed to the Inheritor. Their jets pulsed stronger with each gliding pump of their legs and arms. The wind screamed in their ears. If it wasn’t for their helmet their eyes and ears would’ve been damaged. The speed would’ve torn their fragile biological body to pieces if it wasn’t for their powerful inertial dampeners.

“Target sighted,” Whoosh said.

The Inheritor was gliding across metallic surface down a long straight street. They moved in the same way that Whoosh did.

Several hundred meters in a few blinks of the eye.

Whoosh slashed at the Inheritor’s back with the curved, single-edged blade attached to their gauntlet.

The Inheritor dipped and turned slightly to take the blow at an angle.

The blade skidded off the Inheritor’s back without doing any damage.

Whoosh pitched off-balance and nearly careened into the side of a structure. They were able to jump up and glide up the side of the building for a dozen meters before gravity brought them back down. They smoothly pivoted and slid down the wall, jumping off to hit the street without slowing much.

The Inheritor had disappeared down one of the narrow side streets.

Whoosh muttered one of Honor’s curses.

The same result as their initial encounter.

The Inheritor’s brownish-gray skin glistened in the sunlight. Study of Whoosh’s recording of the first encounter suggested that the Inheritor’s skin was covered in a substance that negated friction in some fashion. Anything that struck it simply glanced off. The Inheritor had displayed an uncanny ability to twist and turn their body in order to avoid direct strikes.

Designation: Fast One has engaged outer perimeter combat drones.

Whoosh received a projection in their faceplate.

The Inheritor glided through a line of combat drones, twisting and turning. Telemetry showed that any projectiles that struck it glanced off without damage.

In turn, the Inheritor slashed at the drone’s treads or weapons with the forward-facing, curved bone blades sticking out of the backs of their arms.

The organic weaponry proved superior to Threnosh material science as they sliced through metal with little difficulty.

Whoosh gave chase again.

They caught up quickly, but the Inheritor wasn’t interested in a straight fight. It avoid all of Whoosh’s strikes as it used the sides of structures to skate circles around the Threnosh.

Whoosh was marginally faster, but the Inheritor was quicker, more agile.

Corrupted mass moving into City Section 61. Projected target location is the security control structure. Only combat drones are available in defense due to attacks in other sections.

“The reminder is unnecessary,” Whoosh grunted.

They slashed at the Inheritor, but it ducked and slashed at the side of their leg in return. Damage alerts flashed, but it was minor.

The Inheritor skidded around a corner and out of sight.

Whoosh spun and burned their jets to keep up. They dug their fingers into the side of the structure to make the tight turn as their body rose off the ground. The force of the sharp turn strained their inertial dampeners.

“Designation: Fast One is only targeting combat drones. It will clear the way for the corrupted. I will use my traps to force it to a specific destination. You must not be too close, but not allow it space to double back,” Rodinian said.

“Acknowledged,” Whoosh said.

Whoosh closed to within several meters and stayed there as the Inheritor pumped its legs and arms, skating from one side of the street to the other in an erratic fashion.

Whoosh didn’t take the bait. They kept their distance. Not too far, but not too close.

An explosion on the side street to the left and another one ahead forced the Inheritor to take the next right turn.

“Traps at the intersection of Street 3.12 and Street 6.21 will force the Inheritor to take the left onto the latter,” Rodinian said.

Bright orange fire flared as their teammate had said. Whoosh pushed through the smoke and debris, just behind the Inheritor.

The tense pursuit continued in this fashion as Rodinian burned through most of the explosive traps they had set in this city section.

The traps would’ve been useful on the corrupted swarm, but there was plenty more scattered throughout the city section.

Whoosh had silenced the updates from base camp, but they couldn’t ignore the sounds of other explosions and the rising smoke coming from the outer edges of the section.

The corrupted were triggering Rodinian’s traps.

“Last turn, right on Street 5.05. Stasis trap, two hundred meters directly ahead. I leave it to you. The trap will deactivate in 1 second after triggering. My attention is needed elsewhere,” Rodinian said.

“Acknowledged.”

Whoosh was a handful of meters behind the Inheritor as it hit Rodinian’s trap and suddenly stopped, suspended a few centimeters off the ground, mid-stride.

Whoosh was ready. Their gauntlet blades where already up in front of them.

The trap deactivated at the same time that Whoosh hit the back of the Inheritor.

They sliced wide with both arms and cut the Inheritor into three pieces as they burst through covered in blood and gore.

“Designation: Fast One terminated,” Whoosh said into the comms.

Acknowledged. Defend the security control structure until further notice.

Whoosh was satisfied as they skated away towards the closest cluster of corrupted. Dealing with slow ones was going to be easy by comparison.

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Unseen’s power armor contained a sophisticated camouflage system that rendered them practically invisible to the hundreds of corrupted stampeding down the street toward the fabrication facility that provided City Section 91 and the surrounding sections with combat drones and ammunition. It was vital to the T-Men’s continued control of this particular region of Orchestral Meridian. To lose it would set them back months of progress.

Unseen stood against a structure down a narrow side street. Visually, they appeared as part of the dull, metallic wall. Sound dampeners made them quieter than a whisper. Their power armor was even odorless.

The only hint of their presence was a shimmer, like a mirage or a heat-created haze, as they threw several grenades into the mass of corrupted.

The fiery explosions consumed many of the corrupted, while Unseen ran down a smaller, parallel street toward the fabrication facility. They needed to relocate ahead of the corrupted. They had to thin down their numbers as much as possible to help the soldiers and drones defending the facility.

Indeed, they could already hear projectile fire mixed in with the crazed roars from the corrupted in the distance.

Unseen ran faster. Their active camouflaged shimmered as it struggled to keep them concealed despite their movements.

Back at the main base camp. Telatrine tracked Unseen’s progress on the holographic projection in the middle of the command chamber. Multiple projections covered the entirety of the desperate defense against the sudden corrupted incursion.

“Of course they do this when Frequency and Salamander leave,” Telatrine sighed. They would rather have been in the thick of fighting instead of overseeing operational command. Unfortunately, they were next in the chain of command.

Telatrine studied the projections.

Combat drone numbers and ammunition counts compared against the estimated number of corrupted.

“They had this many?” Telatrine couldn’t quite believe it. The projections on the amount of corrupted in the city were much too low.

The numbers weren’t good.

The drones killed the corrupted in great numbers, but there were so many that the drones were eventually overwhelmed by the gray tide.

“Direct the combat drones to fire while retreating. Each line will retreat to the next and so on until they reach the final one around key structures,” Telatrine said.

“Acknowledged.” Communicator Dreylox 7193 passed the directive to the drone operators.

“Status on Vanguards?”

“Vanguard Zeljanz 31 has suffered critical damage to their trueskin and is on their way back here for repairs. Vanguard Blazer Ecoria 70 is en route for recharge and reload at primary reloading facility,” Communicator Dreylox 7193 said.

“Have them provide close air support for the fabrication facility in Section 91 when ready.”

“Acknowledged.”

Telatrine glanced at the projection for the Security Station at City Section 75. There were a lot of corrupted heading for the station. More than the attacks on the other city sections. It made sense. The station was critical to the deployment and control for the combat drones in that entire area. To lose it was to lose close to forty percent of the territory they had retaken in the past two years.

They had stationed most of the remaining T-Men and two squads of soldiers there for that reason.

“Not going to happen under my watch,” Telatrine said to themselves. “Subcommander Solemn Coast 963, do you copy?” they said into the comms.

“Acknowledged. What is your order?” the subcommander’s reply was immediate.

“Take your remaining E.W.S. Soldiers to reinforce City Section 75’s security station.”

“Acknowledged.”

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Only five of them. The other half had gone with Frequency to rescue PJ15 and Honor. Telatrine hoped they were enough to help his fellow T-Men.

The minutes turned into hours as Telatrine could do nothing but watch his fellow T-Men and Threnosh soldiers in their desperate battle against an overwhelming horde of corrupted.

They were losing combat drones at a high rate, but they were holding.

Unseen was providing surprisingly effective as they kept the corrupted off-balance with their hidden attacks. Grenades and projectile fire that they couldn’t track the source managed to keep the numbers that reached the last line of defense at the fabrication facility at a comparative trickle.

It was manageable for the soldiers and drones.

Whoosh single-handedly scythed their way through the corrupted in City Section 61. The corrupted kept chasing after them on the periphery. Away from their main objective. The corrupted seemed to be maddened beyond reason, even more than usual. As soon as they saw the Threnosh, they gave chase.

Whoosh had enough energy to keep it up for several hours.

Vanguard Blazer Ecoria 70 made tireless bombing and strafing runs wherever things seemed most desperate. They had already recharged and reloaded several times, yet kept flying back out each time. Their exhaustion was clear in the medical readings, but Telatrine couldn’t let them rest, just yet. It was unfortunate, but the damage to Vanguard Zeljanz 31’s power armor wasn’t going to be repaired in time to help in this battle.

The battle at City Section 75’s security station was different. The T-Men and the soldiers there teetered on the brink of defeat. Inheritors had finally made an appearance. Two looked strangely familiar, but that wasn’t possible. Telatrine remembered—

“Alert, alert. Movement detected from the pillars holding the bridge section,” one of the communicators said.

“Get a surveillance drone down there,” Telatrine said.

The projection shifted to look through the eyes of the drone as it swooped down.

It showed the blue-green ocean surface as waves lapped up against the gigantic pillars that held up the bridge section they had set their base on.

“Zoom in,” Telatrine saw movement.

Gray shapes, hundreds, climbed up.

Corrupted.

Except different.

Bigger.

Muscles stretched gray skin to the breaking point and beyond.

Telatrine remembered.

They had seen the recordings from the fight that saw them lose, Honor, Brightstrike and PJ15, nearly two years ago.

“Enhanced corrupted. Inheritor, Designation: Hylhon will be among them. Locate immediately. Send full complement of aerial attack drones. We cannot allow them to reach us. Prepare base defenses.”

Telatrine eyed their spire-made chainsword in its charging berth. It seemed that they were going to get their wish after all.

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The metallic tunnel wall appeared to melt under the power of Cal’s mind. The stone and dirt behind followed suit. He didn’t stop until he had created an angled gouge ten meters long and large enough to fit several humans shoulder to shoulder into the side of the tunnel. He had created a small side tunnel with his telekinesis.

He had dispersed over a thousand pounds of matter by moving the molecules into the surrounding area. The hard packed earth suddenly became much denser.

He had felt no pain, just the strain from the exertion, like lifting a heavy weight. It felt good.

“Thanks, Frequency,” Cal said.

“For?” Frequency blinked, uncomprehending.

“Giving me back my mind.”

Cal used his telekinesis to pull from the metallic walls to create a wall with a door and narrow slits from which weapons could be fired. He smiled, wondering what Remy would think about his encroachment on his brother’s specialty. “Or not,” Cal muttered as he studied his work. It had a crude and tacked on appearance, rough. Not at all like Remy’s smooth manipulation of all things metal.

“I am uncertain as to the tactical wisdom of this. There is no path for our retreat,” Frequency said.

“I know, sorry,” Cal grimaced.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to fix the issue. The corrupted were close.

The two E.W.S. soldiers opened up with their bolters. They aimed over the heads of the corrupted. The explosive shells rained hot shrapnel down on the enemy’s heads.

“Setting up sonic field,” Frequency said as they deployed four mobile emitters from their power armor. They sent two up to the ceiling and two to either side of the tunnel. “Mark field’s reach. Honor, you do not have a helmet.”

“That’s okay, I can figure out the area it covers,” Cal said.

“How?”

Cal telekinetically pushed the corrupted that had already moved beyond Frequency’s field. He noted where the corrupted hit the field. The effects were unmistakable. The corrupted suddenly howled in pain as the sonic vibrations liquefied their internal organs with frightening quickness.

“The field does not extend all the way to the floor. It ceases at approximately one meter up. I do not wish to place emitters lower, within reach of the corrupted,” Frequency said.

“This works just fine,” Cal said.

The corrupted beyond the field had stopped. They had also noticed the area of effect. Mother Madrigal loomed large behind them all. Her silhouette was lined by the natural light from outside the tunnel.

The E.W.S. soldiers switched out their weapons to the standard recoilless rifle and took prone positions. They opened fire in the space between the lower boundary of Frequency’s field and the floor.

“Good idea,” Cal said.

An impasse.

Cal itched to use his telepathy to check up on Salamander and PJ15, but he didn’t dare risk pushing against Mother Madrigal.

They were balanced on a knife’s edge. If he fell back under the Mother’s sway then they were all doomed.

“How much longer can you keep the field up?” Cal kept his eyes on the Mother.

“Two minutes and counting,” Frequency said. “This specific sound and level of strength is necessary otherwise the corrupted will be able to run through. The emitters must also stay stationary since all four must work in precise concert.”

“I’ve been gone a long time, but this is a lot stronger than I remember,” Cal said.

“I have one stronger sound, but it must only be used as a last resort,” Frequency said.

“Good to know. I’m glad you’ve been continuing to get stronger,” Cal smiled. “I guess the plan stays the same. Once the field is done, you guys get in the pillbox. I’ll thin the corrupted numbers down as much as possible before I take on Mother Madrigal. You handle the rest of the corrupted. When that’s done our best chance is to pile on Mother Madrigal. Hopefully, PJ15 can help.”

Cal figured that Salamander had their hands full with Gyxdor. The Threnosh wasn’t going to be able to help out with the Mother.

A high-pitched whine reached Cal’s superior hearing. The unmistakable sound of an E.W.S. short-ranged laser gun.

“From the transport!” Cal whipped his head around.

Frequency had already turned and aimed her gauntlet emitters toward the transport’s open rear ramp. Their power armor’s auditory capabilities were second to none.

“I am trying to detect sounds, but Mother Madrigal is interfering,” Frequency said.

“Shit!” Cal realized that he had taken his eyes off Mother Madrigal. He spun around.

The Mother’s tall form was gone.

“Twenty seconds,” Frequency said.

“You guys get in the pillbox!” Cal shouted. “PJ15 and the soldiers will have to take care of themselves!”

The seconds ticked down with unbearable slowness.

Frequency’s mobile emitters shut down.

The corrupted howled with rage and madness as they charged.

An immense shadow glided across the ceiling of the cavernous tunnel.

Cal noticed it a beat too late.

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Salamander plowed into Gyxdor’s broad back.

The Inheritor shouted in protest as he tried to turn, but Salamander didn’t give him the opportunity.

The Threnosh’s thrusters roared at maximum thrust as they rapidly approached the tunnel exit.

A warning alert beeped in Salamander’s faceplate.

Too late.

They couldn’t avoid the jet of super-heated gas from another Inheritor’s palms.

The gas struck one of their wings and sent them spinning into the floor.

Salamander tumbled across the floor for several dozen meters before they could right themselves.

Gyxdor had disappeared over the edge of the tunnel.

Salamander’s plan had worked. The giant Inheritor was no doubt plummeting down the deep shaft, out of the immediate fight.

Another jet of super-heated gas swallowed Salamander.

Foolish Inheritor.

Salamander’s power armor could handle the heat of a volcano.

They expelled a gout of flame from their draconic helmet’s maw.

The Inheritor didn’t share Salamander’s resistance to heat and flame. Its screeching was drowned out by the roaring flames.

Salamander detached their ruined wings with a thought. They assessed the battlefield.

Further down the tunnel, combat drones fired projectiles into the back of the corrupted mass. They couldn’t see past them to Honor and the rest of their team.

“I have removed Gyxdor from the battle. Status report?” Salamander said into the comms.

There was no response. Not even the crackle of static. There was only silence.

They had thought that Frequency’s sound had successfully countered Mother Madrigal’s interference.

Salamander stomped forward to burn the corrupted and the invasive organism. They could see Mother Madrigal’s tall, thin form in the middle of the enemy swarm.

They weren’t advancing for some reason.

It suited Salamander’s purpose.

A mighty blow suddenly slammed Salamander into the side of the curved tunnel wall. Their power armor left a deep indentation in the metal.

Damage alerts blared, but nothing critical. Salamander dived out of the way as a tree-sized arm slammed into the space they had just been in.

“You’re not dropping me down a shaft and flying away this time.” Gyxdor bent down and picked up one of Salamander’s discarded wings, crumpling it like paper.

“The former will be done. The latter will be unnecessary.” Salamander spat a ball of flame in Gyxdor’s face. They charged behind it and planted their shoulder into the behemoth’s stomach.

Salamander engaged their thrusters, that combined with their enhanced strength carried the two of them over the edge of the tunnel exit and down toward the darkness at the bottom of the shaft.

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Nila stared down the black hole.

The tunnel was wide enough for maybe five or six people walking next to each other. It was almost perfectly circular. The curved walls, ceiling and floor had the same rough spiral pattern cut into the rock.

“This looks like it was carved by a machine, except it’s way to big and it looks like it curves as it slopes down,” Patrick said as he shined a powerful flashlight down into the tunnel. “Almost looks like a giant worm dug this out,” he whispered.

Patrick was the leader by the default of the last few remaining members of the California State Government fighting force that had sortied into San Francisco with Remy to recover the people taken by the fishmen. He was well beyond his depth.

Nila heard the fear in the young man’s voice. She didn’t need to see the sheen of sweat coating his dark face, nor the way the whites of his eyes shined wide. She understood. She felt the same. There was something about the tunnel mouth that took her to a dark place in her thoughts. As if to venture forth was to step into the worse hell she could imagine.

The dark presence in the back of her mind didn’t help matters.

The rest of the soldiers and Resistance members appeared to be in the same mental space. They were all unconsciously curling their bodies inward, as if shrinking themselves as small as possible in a vain attempt to escape a great predatory beast’s notice.

Nila looked at the rest of her group.

The kids weren’t alright.

Gene and his team were huddled together, just as shrunken in as the rest.

Only Megan and Veronica stood with any sort of confidence or at least they masked their fear better. They had more reason than the rest to want to go down into the yawning abyss.

Nila wondered if she had the same resolve.

Stupid Cal, leaving me to face this alone, she thought.

No, that wasn’t right. She was here by choice. Her choice. No one else. Tessa couldn’t be abandoned to her fate. Nila tightened her grip on her baseball bat-like club and took a deep breath. The dark shadowy presence in her thoughts receded slightly.

“I need this position defended. I’m going through the tunnel and hopefully make my way through to Alcatraz. I don’t want cultists coming in after me and in the event that Remy can’t fly us off the island then we’ll have to come back this way,” Nila said.

“Shouldn’t you wait for Hanna?” Gene said.

“I can’t wait. I have no idea how long it’ll take them to turn around and head this way or if they ran into cultists. We got lucky that we didn’t encounter anyone on our way here.”

Patrick conferred in hushed tones with his fellow soldiers and the Resistance members. A dozen men and women in total.

“We’ll be rearguard,” Patrick said as he handed Nila a flare gun. “Sight line to Alcatraz is clear from this location. I’ll have a lookout posted up top. Fire the flare gun if you don’t need to come back this way. So we know to evac immediately.”

They had taken the way out Nila had offered. Just as she had hoped.

Nila tucked the flare gun into one of the pouches on her belt. She locked eyes with Megan. She wasn’t going to try to dissuade a mother from going after her daughter and husband.

“Let’s go already,” Veronica whined. “Wasting time standing around!” she banged the butt of her metal staff on the rocky ground. The sound reverberated down into the dark tunnel.

“We- We’ll stay too… I mean to help support…” Gene quailed as Veronica shot him a venomous look at the betrayal.

Megan laid a hand on Veronica’s shoulder and drew her away to the side.

Veronica sniffed and focused all her attention on the tunnel mouth.

Nila’s look encompassed the entire team, four young men and one young woman. “Good, they’re running low on ammo. They’ll need your help to stand a chance against potential cult attack.”

“What should we tell Hanna and the others when they get here?” Gene couldn’t bring his gaze up to Nila’s.

“The same thing. They stay here and help you defend. Watch for the flare. If we aren’t back by the time the sun’s up or there’s no flare, then get out of here. Do your best to get away,” Nila gave them all a tight smile. She didn’t feel as brave as her voice sounded. “You’ve done more then enough these last few days. Don’t forget that.”

Nila lit her small lantern and hung it from the strap at the side of her chest plate. She donned her helmet and waited for Megan and Veronica to get ready before she took the lead in their descent into the pitch black tunnel.

“Like stepping into a fucking hell,” Johnny muttered in disgust.

“And we just let them go by themselves,” Gene said with a stricken realization that he had failed a test somehow.

Bastien muttered a prayer as Patrick started barking out orders.

“We aren’t on their level. Especially in close quarters,” Mads said. Ever the voice of reason. “Those super mutants would’ve crushed us. The fishmen are too strong in equal numbers. We need the advantage of range and space along with numbers to avoid getting slaughtered.”

“What you say is true, but it still doesn’t make me feel like less of a coward or that I’m letting Tessa and Veronica down,” Olo said.

“You fight the battles you can fight. It’s not bravery to throw your lives away for no good reason,” Patrick said. “It’s just a waste. Now, stop bitching. We’ve got a job to do and a chamber to defend.”