Berserker (Messenger Book 2) Read online

  Sergeant Major Crease whispered something to his superior.

  “That's it.” Higgs turned back to the augments. “Override code Noisy Alexander 135. You are no longer to regard elements of SLIC as enemy combatants. There, now you won't be compelled to kill those poor wipes if you manage to find them. But don't register them as allies, either. I want you to retain the ability to fight back in case these shitbirds try to backstab us.”

  “Understood,” the augments replied.

  “OK, I think that about covers it.” Higgs took a long draw on his cigar. “Any questions?”

  “No sir,” Omega said.

  “Then study that datacube and commence the search as soon as your suits are airworthy.” Higgs dismissed them with a wave of his cigar. “Good hunting.”

  Sixteenth Escalation

  whispers in my ear to tell me lies

  Young's infection was like a ticking bomb with an invisible timer, imbuing Janice and her companions with a new sense of urgency as they pressed on toward Contact Point November. The supplies they had liberated from the abandoned drug runner camp were enough to see them out of the dead zone, through the surrounding barrens, and finally into a region of interspersed scrub and woods near Artair County's western coast.

  Hector kept a constant eye on Young, and Janice had the uncomfortable feeling that he would not hesitate to make good on his threat of killing her if they could not find a cure in time. For her part, Young seemed to have retreated inside herself, saying nothing, her gaze turned inward as she struggled with the terror of her impending demise. There was nothing the others could do for her other than to press on in haste and hope that a cure waited with their allies in SLIC.

  Finally, as they emerged from a scraggly grove and stood at the crest of a hill overlooking a marshy glen, Tinubu exclaimed, “That's it!”

  “It's about damn time,” Cena said.

  As they descended into the glen, Hector said, “The place looks deserted to me. Are you sure your pals haven't given you all up for dead?”

  “SLIC doesn't exactly advertise its contact points,” Tinubu said. “We just need to make a signal and wait for somebody to notice it. Four fires in the shape of a Y is the pattern to show that we're friendlies. Help me clear some space and find some wood so we can get the fires going.”

  Janice got the trowel out of her backpack and started digging a fire pit, but the undisturbed silence of the glen unnerved her. What if their SLIC allies had been destroyed by the Spacy invasion or the Messenger outbreak? What if Hector was right and they had stopped monitoring the contact point? Not only were they Young's only hope of being cured of her deadly infection, they were also Janice's only lead to silencing the putrid Voice that plagued her thoughts in her darkest moments.

  “Tinubu,” she called to the SLIC captain digging a fire pit several meters over, “what if we display the signal and no one comes to rescue us?”

  “Then we'll figure something out,” Tinubu replied. “But let's not go panicking over something that hasn't even happened yet.”

  Tinubu's false calm did not fool Janice. If SLIC didn't respond to the rescue signal quickly, then the first thing they would have to do was abandon Young or risk Hector trying to murder her. Although Janice hardly considered the coarse street rat a close friend, the idea of leaving her behind to be consumed by Messenger syndrome made Janice sick to her stomach.

  “Please,” she whispered into the cold, humid air. “Please find us.”

  *

  Private First Class Shaktar Katar was reclining in his cot about a kilometer away from Contact Point November, inside a makeshift tent erected from camouflaged canvas atop a wooded hill. A pair of binoculars sat on a tripod a few steps away, but Katar's attention was on the bikini babes in the girlie mag he was reading on his pocket computer. On the opposite side of the tent, Katar's boss, Sergeant Ramon Regalado, was lying in his own cot, sipping on a bottle of whiskey and watching a concert on his pocket com.

  Katar hated being stuck on observation duty with nothing to do and nobody for company except his scruffy, unkempt superior. He could understand why Regalado had been posted here. According to the veterans in Aqualung, Regalado had been a good soldier once until a particularly horrific battle had broken him. He had taken to drinking on duty, got busted down to sergeant from staff sergeant, and finally banished to this crap post, where he continued his drunkard's ways. But Katar had no idea what he had done to warrant being assigned to watch an empty valley out here in the middle of nowhere.

  The sound of a familiar song caused Katar to look over at the holographic projection from his superior's pocket com. He thought he recognized the svelte blonde in a black jacket, white skirt, and leather boots bouncing around on the stage amidst flashy pyrotechnics.

  “Hey, is that a Janice Runner concert?” he asked.

  Regalado grunted in the affirmative and took another drink from his bottle.

  “I always thought she was pretty good,” Katar said. “I hope she hasn't been killed. Unlike a lot of these pop idol types, she actually has some talent to go along with her looks.”

  “I guess,” Regalado said. “But I don't really watch her performances for the music, if you catch my drift.”

  Katar laughed.

  “Hey,” Regalado waved his bottle at Katar, “if you've got the time to stare over my shoulder, why don't you take a look at the contact point?”

  “There won't be anything there,” Katar said. “There never is.”

  “Well do it anyway,” Regalado said. “That's the only thing we've got to justify our existence out here.”

  Katar sighed, tossed his pocket com aside, and pushed himself to his feet. He sauntered to the binoculars, bent down in front of them, and squinted.

  “Holy shit,” he exclaimed.

  “What is it?” Regalado demanded.

  “There's someone there.”

  “Really?”

  “Come see for yourself.”

  Regalado set down his bottle and pocket com and came over. Katar stood aside to let his boss peer through the binoculars.

  “Saris' Eyes, you're right,” he said. “And they're building fires in the rescue pattern.”

  “I think I recognize a couple of them,” Katar said. “Remember that memo with the M.I.A.s they wanted us to watch for? It's hard to tell through the binoculars, though.”

  “Whoever they are, they must be friendlies if they know the pattern.” Regalado stood up straight. “I'll go send the courier drone back to H.Q. with a request for a rescue chopper, then we'll head down to meet them.”

  *

  Once they got their signal fires started, the refugees nominated Hector to patrol the perimeter of the glen while the others huddled around the fires to take some of the sting out of the cold. Vic, Tinubu, and Cena gathered around one fire, while Janice and Young kept to themselves at separate fires. After several minutes, Cena came over to Janice's fire and sat down next to her.

  “So, um,” she said, “how you holding up, Blondie?”

  “Still alive,” Janice replied. “Not sure whether that's a good thing or not.”

  “Aw, don't say that,” Cena said. “Things will get better once we join up with our comrades, I promise. We can all enjoy a real meal and a hot shower, for starters.”

  Janice hugged her knees to her chest. “If they show up,” she said.

  “They'll show, don't you worry none about that.” Cena gave Janice a hard slap on the shoulder. “It's just your, uh, condition making you such a negative Nellie. Speaking of which, you haven't had any psychotic episodes lately. That's something to be grateful for, huh?”

  Janice glared at her.

  “Just trying to lighten the mood, hon.” Cena laughed awkwardly. “Uh, sorry. I guess that wasn't very amusing.”

  Several moments passed in uncomfortable silence. Finally, Cena got to her feet and said, “Well, I guess I'll let you alone. Hang in there, Blondie.”

  As Cena started back toward her friends
around the adjacent fire, Janice said, “Thanks.”

  Cena stopped and turned around. “Huh?”

  “Thanks for trying to cheer me up,” Janice said. “Even if you really suck at it.”

  She glanced over at Young, staring blankly into her own fire. She looked like she needed a friend even more than Janice did. But what could anyone say to her? Ever since she contracted Messenger syndrome, she had expressed nothing but a desire to be left alone. To wrestle with the demons of her mortality, Janice supposed. That was a battle no one else could fight for her.

  A few minutes later, Janice turned at the sound of rustling bushes. She saw Hector emerging from the trees, signaling to the others that intruders were approaching the camp. Everyone got to their feet and ran to meet him near the edge of the glen.

  “Got two blokes heading our way from the northwest.” Hector jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “They're wearing SLIC uniforms, so I reckon they must be pals of yours.”

  Vic and Cena high-fived. “I told you Colonel Lane wouldn't give up on us,” Vic said to Tinubu.

  Tinubu broke into a broad smile. “I didn't think he would either,” he said. “But you know my motto. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.”

  Cena gave Janice another slap on the shoulder. “I told you everything would work out, Bright Eyes.”

  “Yeah, great.” Janice rubbed her throbbing shoulder. “But cut that out before you break my arm off, would you?”

  Despite her words, she could feel herself smiling along with the others. For the first time in a long while, she dared to hope that perhaps the nightmare was finally about to end.

  Soon, two SLIC soldiers emerged from the trees, one a nondescript P.F.C. of South Eastern descent, the other a scraggly mutt of a sergeant with the build of a flagging athlete who hadn't quite gone to seed yet despite his best efforts to the contrary. The sergeant's coat was unfastened and his undershirt half untucked. Even with the battle rifles slung over their shoulders, the pair did not give a very threatening impression. They stopped in front of the SLIC refugees and saluted.

  “Private First Class Shaktar Katar,” the darker man barked.

  “Sergeant Ramon Regalado,” his companion said with a lazy salute. Even from a few steps away, Janice thought he smelled faintly of liquor.

  Tinubu, Vic, and Cena returned the salutes and introduced themselves.

  “I recognize those names.” Katar turned to his superior. “I told you these are the guys they wanted us to watch out for.”

  “Yeah, great, good for you, kid.” Regalado regarded the refugees through bleary eyes. “You guys look like hell.”

  “We had to cross a thousand kilometers to get here,” Tinubu replied.

  “Holy crap,” Regalado said. “Well, don't worry. I sent a courier drone back to H.Q. telling them to send a rescue chopper. Probably won't be here until tomorrow, though.”

  “Much appreciated, Sergeant,” Tinubu said. “After the journey we've had, you have no idea how glad we are to see some friendly faces.”

  “I'll bet.” Regalado's gaze wandered over Young, Janice, and Hector. “So who are these others with you? You run into some other SLIC agents on the road, or—”

  “Oh my god,” Katar interrupted his superior. Without warning, he ran up to Janice and grasped her hands in his own. “I didn't recognize you at first, but are—are you Janice Runner?”

  “Uh.” Janice stared wide-eyed at her beaming admirer. “Yes, but...”

  Realizing what he had done, Katar flushed, released Janice's hands, and stepped back. “I'm sorry,” he stammered. “It's just, I'm a big fan, and it's so exciting getting to meet you in person...”

  “Oh, for blood's sake.” Regalado grabbed Katar's collar and yanked him back. “Sorry about that, Ms. Runner. Though I have to admit, it's quite a surprise seeing you of all people out here. I guess the world really has gone crazy.”

  “It's all right,” Janice replied. “I'm kind of used to it, though it feels like a lifetime ago that I had fans recognizing me in public.”

  “Well, anyway.” Regalado regarded Young and Hector with a cocked eyebrow, then turned back to Tinubu. “Looks like you managed to pick up a pretty motley crew on your way here. We've got a little camp at the top of that hill. It's not much, but it would be more comfortable than waiting out here in the cold.”

  “Obliged, Sergeant,” Tinubu said. “Just give us a minute to put out the fires and—”

  A distant crack cut off his words. Janice turned with the others to look at the source of the sound and saw a flare shooting into the sky a couple of kilometers to the south.

  “What's that?” Katar exclaimed. “I thought we were the only ones monitoring the contact point.”

  “We are,” Regalado replied, his eyes now possessing a sharp glint that they had previously lacked.

  “Someone else must have been watching this place,” Tinubu said. “But how would they know about it? The contact points are supposed to be a closely guarded secret.”

  “It don't matter how,” Hector said. “What matters is that our party's got some uninvited guests.”

  “Shit.” Tinubu took an instant to collect himself, then started issuing orders. “I don't know who fired that flare, but we have to assume they're hostile. We'll fade into the woods and fall back to the observation camp. Sergeant, can you send another drone back to H.Q. to let them know they might have a hot L.Z.?”

  “That drone was the only one we've got,” Regalado said. “We've got another one, but it's busted. The one I sent was the backup.”

  “Just great,” Tinubu snapped. “Personnel?”

  “It's just the two of us out here.”

  “What about weapons?” Tinubu asked, a note of desperation creeping into his voice.

  “Some spare ammo for our rifles, and a grenade launcher.”

  “Better than nothing, I guess,” Tinubu sighed. “All right Sergeant, take us back to your camp and we'll set up an ambush in case we have a fight on our hands. Go, go!”

  The group took a moment to kick dirt and pour water over the fires, then fled into the woods, following Katar and Regalado in the direction of their camp. Their rescue party unslung their rifles while Tinubu, Vic, and Cena drew their pistols.

  “After we retrieve the grenade launcher from the camp, we'll hook back to set an ambush for anyone who might be following us,” Tinubu said. “Of course, given our lack of firepower, we might have no choice but to run.”

  “What if they catch us?” Janice cried, panting as she fought her way through the brush.

  “Surrender,” Tinubu said. “And pray that, whoever they are, they aren't out for blood.”

  *

  Pierson and the other First Knights were resting on the beach when they saw the flare go up from the direction of Contact Point November. Pierson shot instantly to his feet.

  “That's the signal,” he said. “Let's move out.”

  “I'll be damned,” Nhean said, staring at the flare in disbelief. “This better not be a false alarm.”

  The First Knights changed into their pilot suits, then climbed into their half-submerged exosuits and started them up. Pierson commanded the drones to follow the manned suits in a wide V formation, then gunned his thrusters and burst out of the sea with an explosion of foam, his suit blazing into the sky like a giant black wasp glowing with crimson energy. The rest of the First Knights took up position on his flanks.

  Within moments, the squadron was flying over the contact point. Pierson scrutinized his staticky sensor feeds and optical viewscreens for signs of activity. Scrubby hills interspersed with patches of woods and marshy lowlands filled his screens, providing ample hiding places for any prey.

  “Nothing,” Nhean's smug voice crackled over the comm. “Looks like a false alarm after all.”

  “Take a closer look,” Pierson replied. “Someone built several fires in a signal pattern, and they're still smoldering. The flare must have made them nervous and caused them to bolt.”

>   “Your orders, Captain?” asked Sir Larc.

  Pierson tapped a sequence of commands to all but one of the drones, directing them to fly a search pattern over the surrounding region; then he said, “Lieutenant Nhean and Dame Aksinya will circle the area in their exosuits and watch for enemy activity. Sir Larc, you and I will land and try to track our prey on foot. Our friends in the sky will provide us with air support if we get in over our heads.”

  “Understood.”

  Pierson and Larc set down in the glen. Pierson checked his sidearm, then grabbed a hand-held remote before disembarking. He used the remote to take control of the single drone he had commanded to stay behind, a Black Fly class. Unlike the other drones, which were fully automated, the Black Fly was normally designed for manned operation; but this one had a sophisticated automation suite installed on its operating system so it could act independently and also be slaved to remote commands. Piloting an exosuit with simplified holographic controls was much more difficult than operating one with the benefit of full cockpit instrumentation, so Pierson's control over the Black Fly was comparatively crude. Still, it would make a formidable weapon.

  Upon taking command of the drone, Pierson directed it to fly down and hover near him. Its black, skeletal figure cut an imposing silhouette against the gray sky, the wash from its thrusters flowing over him in hot waves. He sent the command to cut the jets and the drone dropped into the wet grass with a clang. A moment later, Larc disembarked from his exosuit and joined Pierson, his sidearm at the ready.

  “Spread out and look for tracks,” Pierson ordered.

  Pierson commanded the drone to stand guard in the center of the glen while he and Larc moved to opposite ends of the valley. Within moments, Larc called, “I've got some tracks over here, Captain.”

  “What do you see?” Pierson called back.

  “Looks like a small group entered the woods here,” Larc reported. “About six, maybe more.”