Dethroned 2 Read online

  In the moments it would take Jens to pull up the rendering of the facility, Frederik pulled whatever gear he would need from the pack on the ground next to him. Hatchet? Check! Sidearm? Check! Suppressor? Check! Wrist mounted grappling hook? Frederik grinned, and nodded furiously. Check!

  Just as he finished dusting off his slick-suit, Jens spoke up. “There's a ventilation duct on the eastern side of the facility that seems large enough to fit a person. You can enter through there.”

  Vents. What is it with people and sneaking in through vents? Frederik sighed, and asked. “Is there no other point I could enter from? Maybe a door?”

  “Do you have a codebreaker on you?”

  Need to add that to the checklist. Frederik thought, before saying. “Negative.”

  “Well, then it looks like you're going in through the ventilation.”

  “Copy. I'll check in once I reach the facility but will be off comms once inside.”

  Well, Frederik took one last look at the bland, barren structure that was Eastern Sphere Resupply 3, engaged his slick-suit, and began his descent from the ridge. Time to go bail them out.

  Chapter Eleven:

  Why They Called Him Wraith

  Possibly the biggest misconception about infiltration units in the EGI military was that they spent an inordinate amount of time clomping through ductwork. In reality, nearly every ventilation duct Frederik had encountered was hardly large enough to fit an emaciated wasteland child. This space, on the other hand, happened to be the exception to the rule.

  Getting inside was easy enough. The large fan marking Jens’s point of entry seemed to be out of order. On the way over, he’d come up with this elaborate plan of jamming his hatchet in between the blades, slipping past, and snagging his weapon without losing an arm. He’d hoped it wouldn’t be too dusty inside, but when he crawled past the fan and dropped down, Frederik found himself thoroughly surprised. Maybe a bit annoyed, if anything.

  He stood in what could be best described as a vent that got scaled up to the size of a small, rectangular cave. There was absolutely no reason anyone would need to waste this much space just to move air around, unless they wanted to reserve it to store contraband or to hide a secret torture room. It made no practical sense.

  On the upside, since he wasn’t on his hands and knees, Frederik could move far, far more quietly. He crept along for a few minutes in search of a grate or hatch of some kind, but found a large grate shaped door instead. Of course. Of course, there’s a door. That would only make sense. He gingerly wiggled the handle, and found it unlocked. Can’t even be bothered to keep it locked. You’d think they wanted people sneaking in…

  Minor slips like that happened all the time, but Frederik held out hope that this rescue would be slightly challenging at a minimum. Maybe he’d just gotten lucky so far. And maybe his luck would run out…

  Now that would make things interesting.

  He pulled himself back to the moment and quietly pushed on through the door. Based on the crates stacked to the ceiling and all the tools and parts hanging from the wall, this was clearly some kind of maintenance storage room. Frederik was about to start scavenging around for anything that might prove useful, but a blinking red light on the door control caught his eye.

  Okay. They managed to engage the lockdown, but their comms devices might be down. Frederik stared at the message on the control, perplexed. Did they get hit by the disruptor at the jump? Was it calibrated to emit a field and not just a pulse? He sighed and shook his head.

  Just as he started fiddling with the panel to bypass the lockdown, Frederik heard a clatter of footsteps coming from somewhere just beyond the door. He had himself pressed up against the wall in an instant, instinctively slowing his breathing, and listening intently. There were too many different sets of boots to tell how many were passing, but he figured there were at least five. His eyes trailed around the room, out of focus as he listened. Then he remembered that the door control had an exterior camera for situations exactly like this one.

  Frederik allowed a quick moment of disgust for himself and activated it. A few soldiers just passed, but he thought he spotted a very sour looking Seth and an equally annoyed Victoria being escorted somewhere off to the left.

  If he remembered the map from earlier correctly, then the holding cells were in the other direction on the opposite side of the facility. Which meant that either the soldiers stationed there weren’t savvy enough to bypass the lockdown, or they just planned to execute his teammates in the garage. It could go either way. Two are still alive. This is good. Now to find out what happened to the others before I start figuring out how to unfuck this situation.

  It took a few tries to get the doors open, but Frederik was glad the EGI only cycled through a few sets of codes for things like this. It made sense, though – the average grunt could barely remember to wash their socks, let alone keep up with an alternating ten-digit, alphanumerical code that cycled every few weeks. And if it worked in his favor, who was he to complain.

  The doors slid open, and Frederik headed deeper into the facility. The base’s halls were barren and empty, and the only light came off the yellow-orange emergency lights placed at uniform increments on the walls. Since his slick-suit was already working to hide him visually, an alarm or some other kind of noise would’ve been nice to decrease the possibility of him being heard. Locations like this were always understaffed during peacetime, but he couldn’t rule out that there might be patrols or sweeps trying to ferret out any other intruders.

  He paused at a junction and listened. Gunshots came from somewhere down the halls to his right. Something told him that was the direction of the armory, where he would likely find Marcus and Richard pinned down fighting for their lives. One of them might already be dead.

  When Frederik poked his head around the corner, he spotted two soldiers about thirty paces away. They faced away from him – stance neither idle or ready – chatting among themselves. Even if they weren’t expecting action coming their way, Frederik wanted to walk up and smack them for not focusing their attention on their surroundings. Maybe they were just a rear guard kept behind in case things went sour at the armory and the soldiers pinning down Marcus and Richard needed reinforcements.

  Looks like these fringe bases are still dumpsters for the lazy or incompetent. Why am I even surprised…

  Whatever the case, it didn’t matter. They were an obstacle that needed to be taken down. Frederik did a quick check of the device on his wrist, readied his hatchet blunt side down, and began closing on the guards.

  “These Wasters are getting brave, don't you think?” said the guard on the right.

  The one on the left grunted. “You mean stupid? There's only four of them and fifteen of us. You'd think they'd be smarter than to barge in during the morning meeting.”

  Frederik crept closer, picking up his pace until he broke into a dead sprint. He fired the grappling hook at the back of the head of the man on the right. Moments later, the blunt end of his hatchet caught the woman on the left in the temple as she turned to see where the noise came from. They both collapsed into a heap without a single shot fired.

  “Cut us some slack, it's only our third mission together.” Frederik frowned.

  Disarming them went quickly. He kept a rifle for himself and slid their other weapons back down the hall. In any other situation, Frederik would’ve found a way to kill them quietly and moved on, but Seth insisted on less than lethal. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time or rope to secure them, and kneecapping them might make too much noise or leak into a puddle for him to slip on if he needed to retreat. The only option was to leave them as is and hope this random act of humanity didn’t pepper him full of holes later.

  The closer he got to the armory, the louder the screams and shouts got among the gunfire. Someone among them was screaming in pain, and another tried to console them, while someone else shouted orders. Frederik snuck a quick glance around the corner, hoping nobody who might be
looking his way would catch the glimmer of his slick-suit. Six soldiers huddled behind crates stacked into a makeshift barricade, with half firing down toward the end of the hall.

  Of the remaining three, one was wounded, another already dead, and another was doing what they could to keep the first alive with what supplies they had on hand. They wore no protection beyond basic fatigues and very well might’ve been running low on ammo. It would’ve been nice to try something more fun and less than lethal, but with the threats ahead of him and his squadmates blind-firing from the doorway, the risk of getting hit was just too high.

  He held a solemn moment for them and switched his rifle to burst. Five pumps on the trigger and five corpses later, Frederik crept up to the crates.

  The two at the doorway hadn’t ceased firing. He thought about calling out to them but guessed their hearing might be shot from firing in a close space for so long, so he did the next best thing and limply flung his hatchet through the doorway. It bounced once and then slid to a stop just past the door frame. The hope was that they would recognize that it was Frederik's by the 'To Wraith' engraved on the blunt end of the axe-head.

  One stopped firing, and Frederik watched them cautiously reach for the weapon. A few seconds and a lot of shouting later, the other stopped as well, and a few terse whispers were exchanged before Marcus called out, “Watcher, that you out there?”

  “Yeah,” Frederik called back. “It's all clear.”

  A moment later, the two of them cornered the doorway, rifles drawn. They relaxed as soon as Frederik disengaged his slick-suit's active camouflage and took a seat on one of the crates. “You know Hunter, I hope saving you from getting filled with holes doesn't become a regular thing. I'm starting to see a trend.”

  “Tsh...” Marcus shook his head and handed Frederik’s hatchet back to him.

  Frederik glanced at the group of soldiers he'd gunned down, before looking from Marcus to Richard. “What happened here?”

  “We're not sure.” Richard surveyed the carnage. “We were in the middle of moving the crates out into the hall, when these soldiers showed up. They shouted something at us, then opened fire.”

  “Yeah...” Marcus paused – maybe a little too long. “We didn't even have time to respond, and the next thing we knew, we were pinned down.”

  Something didn't add up. Their body language said that there was more to this story, but Frederik didn't have time to grill them about the truth. Lives were still at stake. “Well,” He rocked himself to his feet and headed into the armory to grab a few things. “I downed a pair of soldiers in the hall just around the corner. Go check to see if they're still alive and restrain them if they are. Leave the corpses.”

  “Sure. No problem.” Richard nodded to him. “Where are you off to?”

  “I saw Shrike and Shadow being escorted toward the garage right after I got inside.” Frederik slung the rack of flash and concussion grenades over his shoulder and reengaged his slick-suit. “If luck holds, they'll still be alive when I get there.”

  * 11 *

  Anger hardly breached the surface in describing how Seth felt as he and Victoria were led into the facility’s garage and were subsequently shoved down onto their knees. Everything about the operation had gone fine up until after they subdued the two soldiers in the control room and engaged the lockdown. First, they realized their comms somehow got knocked out. Then, within minutes of splitting from Marcus and Richard, they ran into a group of more than ten soldiers rushing out of a room without a blast door. Somewhere in that moment of shock, Victoria snatched Seth’s rifle out of his hands and would’ve opened fire if he hadn’t snapped out of it in time to stop her.

  Even if she managed to mow down the few up front, there was no way the two of them were walking away from the exchange unscathed – not at that range.

  Now, they were unarmed and at the mercy of the three soldiers who’d escorted them in. Victoria shot him another glare. She'd been doing that over and over since he stopped her from getting them slaughtered. The jitteriness about her was making him anxious. It wasn’t worth the risk to attack their captors, even if they weren’t restrained. He would’ve told her to calm down but speaking right then sounded like a great way to get himself pistol-whipped. All he could do was hope that she possessed the self-restraint to not do anything stupid.

  Their escort stood in a loose triangular pattern around them. It was hard to tell, but the looks on their faces were some combination of disdain and pity. The disdain, Seth could understand. But the pity? That didn't make much sense. Yet.

  The soldier on Seth's right – the one who'd confiscated his rifle – squatted down a few feet away from him and ground his teeth. “What did you fucking Wasters think was gonna happen? You'd knock out our power, lock us up, have yourselves a nice little raid, and everybody goes home happy?” He spat at the ground next to Seth's knees. “You people are fucking scum.”

  Yeah. That's exactly what I thought, asshole. Seth did his best not to look at the man. I can't believe I missed the fucking meeting room...

  “Stand down, Corporal,” a voice called from the doorway. “No need to patronize our guests, they don't know any better.” While the soldier scrambled back to his feet, Seth looked to see who’d spoken. An officer flanked by two other soldiers strode toward them – sidearms all drawn.

  The escort stopped about halfway between the doorway and where Seth and Victoria knelt, but the officer came right up to them. Just as his eyes tracked up to look at the man, Seth thought he caught a slight distortion out of the corner of his eye. He made a note of it and focused his attention on the officer, who he now pinned as Major Carlson based on the name-tag and insignia on his fatigues.

  The older man holstered his pistol, clasped his hands, and smiled. “Thank you for adding some excitement to what’s been an unbelievably dull year so far. You almost had us there.” He gave Seth a once-over. “You can start by telling me what clan you’re from.”

  They all shared a long, silent moment before the Major sighed. “Well, don't say I didn't try to be civil.” He nodded to the soldier nearest to Victoria. “Get the woman up. Maybe we can get her to make him talk.”

  Victoria kept her hands clasped to the back of her head and forced them to drag her onto her feet. Carlson pulled a knife from his belt, ran it along his finger, then swiftly held it to her neck. Victoria sucked in a breath as she raised her chin, but her expression stayed remarkably calm – more so than before, even.

  “What is she to you?” Carlson looked from Seth to Victoria. “Your girlfriend? Your sister? Your mate? Maybe all of the above?”

  The soldiers all shared a laugh before he continued, “The faster you start talking, the less likely it is that she dies.”

  It was the perfect moment for a snarky comment, but before Seth could consider what to say, one of the soldiers that escorted the Major caught a hatchet with the side of her skull. Less than a second later, a muffled shot went off and the escort on the right earned new spigot holes on either side of his neck. Seth barely had time to react before he heard the clink of metal hitting the ground and orbs swiftly rolling toward him. He dropped, covering his head as best he could.

  Two small explosions went off in succession. There was a blinding flash, followed by a wave of concussive force that knocked him on his side and blasted him into the soldier carrying his rifle.

  Most of the shock passed quickly, but his eyes burned, and his organs felt like they'd each been hit with a sledge. Half his left side itched and ached like it’d been sliced by a razor in several spots, and something poked at the back of his head. Through the fuzziness, Seth thought he heard the sounds of slicing, gurgling, and a collapsing body from Victoria's direction.

  Despite the sunspots on his eyes, Seth made out one of the guards shakily sitting up, trying to aim her weapon at Victoria. He panicked, feeling around behind him, and found what turned out to be his rifle. Seth opened up on the soldier and watched as she collapsed into a bloody heap. The ne
xt thing he knew, Victoria was offering him a hand.

  As she helped him up, the blood on her other hand caught his eye. It was drenched, as was the knife she held. He shot her a quizzical look, flicking his eyes back at the knife. “Where'd that come from?”

  “Under my braid.” Victoria went to rub the back of her head but winced at the motion. She quickly examined her arm and pulled a small piece of shrapnel from her forearm. “They never think to look.”

  Before Seth could comment on how badly that could have gone, Frederik came out from behind the transport nearest to where they stood. “Oh, good. You're both still alive.”

  “Arguably.” Seth steadied himself on a nearby crate. His body still felt like a wrecking ball just crashed into him. He'd never eaten the full force of a concussion grenade before and really couldn’t imagine ever doing it again – if it could be helped.

  “Good thinking with the guard,” Frederik looked to Victoria. “Using him as a shield like that.”

  “Thank you.” Victoria nodded, looking proud of herself.

  He knelt by the downed Major. “I'm assuming this one deserved the trach?”

  That must’ve been the gurgling I heard. Seth would’ve said something to her, but his mind felt too fuzzy to come up with anything witty.

  “Did you not hear what he was saying before?” She shot the corpse a disgusted glance.

  “No.” Frederik gave her a flat look. “I was a little busy trying to make sure the grenades rolled right between his legs.”

  Victoria just hmphed and went to wipe her blade on the dead officer's shirt. Seth watched her, and surveyed the bodies now splayed around them. All six were dead. He started feeling nauseous – more so from the concussion than the gore.

  “Now that this situation's been resolved, I'm going to tell our fearless-”

  “What happened to less than lethal?” Seth blurted out.

  “Couldn't be helped.” Frederik hung his head. “Not without putting you two at risk.”