Berserker (Messenger Book 2) Read online

  “We did it.” Cena exhaled in relief. “We've secured the outside of the processor.”

  *

  Overhead, Celeste struggled in vain to stabilize her damaged Sylphid while alarms buzzed and red lights flashed all over her instrument panel.

  “I can't keep her in the air,” she said. “We're going down.”

  Hector leaned forward and pointed past Celeste's head. “Can you put us down on that platform?” he said, indicating one of the platforms on the side of Halispont's central spire.

  “In this condition?” Celeste replied. “You don't ask for much, do you?”

  “Are you a former Chi strain or aren't you?” Hector shot back.

  “For blood's sake.” Celeste steeled herself. “Don't blame me if we crash and burn.”

  Despite her words, Celeste managed to guide the failing Sylphid over the platform where Omega had crashed. She executed a stable hover over the platform for just an instant, then the lack of symmetrical thrust sent the suit into a spin and it fell onto the platform with an imitation of a mad pirouette, sending sparks flying. When it stopped spinning, Celeste popped the canopy and she and Hector climbed out.

  “Well, we're here,” she said. “What did you have in mind?”

  “I saw Omega put down here earlier.” Hector drew his sidearm. “We have no idea what's waiting for us inside. He could use our support.”

  “Good thought.” Celeste drew her own weapon. “Let's see if we can disable this thing.”

  As they ran inside, Celeste failed to see the intense gleam in Hector's eye. He had more in mind than simply preventing the release of the Messenger spores.

  Thirty-second Escalation

  I just wanted to stay in my

  Vic ventured into the processor, Astral following a few steps behind him. They found themselves in a wide corridor, with gratings running along the floor and ceiling and pipes along the walls. The dim lighting turned every shadow into a lurking creature, while Vic's own nervousness turned every hum and clank of machinery into the sound of an approaching enemy.

  He could immediately tell that something was amiss inside the processor. The air was thick and humid and there was a faint stench like that inside the underground bunker of the Garden. He suspected that meant the Xenolists had seeded more monsters inside the processor as a last line of defense, but that was not his greatest concern. There was something else—something intangible, and far more disturbing, that operated at the level of his subconscious. It was the feeling that he had entered a demon's lair, and every step was taking him closer to a beating heart of darkness, one that was aware of his presence and despised him with unfathomable malice.

  The footsteps behind him grew silent. He turned around and saw that Astral had stopped, holding one hand to her head, with a pained look on her face.

  “Astral?” he said. “What's wrong?”

  “I can feel it permeating this complex.” She looked up and met Vic's gaze, her red eyes shimmering through the darkness. “Scathe.”

  “Scathe?” Vic remembered his brief contact with that being, and it sent a shiver up his spine. “You mean the same entity that possessed Falsrain?”

  Astral nodded. “The dark side of the Xenowave. Its presence is incredibly strong.” She paused. “And it knows we're here.”

  Vic turned around and stared down the passageway. The gloom took on a whole new layer of foreboding now that he knew its source. “It's like confronting an evil spirit. How are we supposed to fight something like that?”

  “On the upside,” Astral said, “I can follow its emanations straight to the source.”

  “You call that an upside?”

  “It might take us to the core,” Astral said. “Better than trying to search this labyrinth at random.”

  “Great.” Vic took a deep breath. “Tell me which way to go, then.”

  Astral pointed. “Straight ahead.”

  *

  Hector and Celeste entered the processor from the opposite side. They advanced cautiously through the winding corridors and chambers full of exotic machinery, relying on their heightened senses of direction to make their way closer to the center of the facility. Although neither of them was familiar with the layout of atmospheric processors, they reasoned that the central area was likely to contain important machinery that they might be able to sabotage to prevent the launch of the Messenger spores.

  Around the next bend in the passage, they found a cluster of bloodstains splattered on the walls and floor. In the center of the stains lay the corpse of a Xenolist monster. It had several bullet holes across its body, as well as numerous shallow lacerations. Hector knelt next to the body and inspected it.

  “What killed it?” Celeste asked. “None of these wounds looks fatal.”

  “Good question,” Hector replied. “Neither the bullets nor the knife wounds were able to penetrate its thick skeleton. Wait, there's a lot of blood pouring out of the mouth.” He pried the jaws open. “Aha, here we go. Stab wound through the roof of the mouth into the brain.”

  He stood up and wiped his hands off on his pants. “Our Spacy boy is one scary bloke. None of his attacks could penetrate its tough shell, so he actually shoved his hand in this thing's mouth so he could get a soft target. What a maniac.”

  Celeste started to answer when she saw a huge shadow rising up behind Hector. She simultaneously raised her pistol and shouted a warning.

  “Hector, behind you!”

  Hector spun around as the monster swung its powerful claws, slicing into his arm and knocking him to the floor. Celeste fired her gun just as the monster lunged for her. She rolled underneath it, came up on her feet, and turned around in one smooth motion. The monster turned as Hector regained his feet next to Celeste.

  The two of them opened fire with their handguns. The monster loped away from them several paces, then climbed the wall and crawled along the ceiling, taking a few hits from their pistols but not slowing appreciably. It dropped down on them, forcing them to dive away from each other, and turned to face Celeste. Its barbed tail waved back and forth and then lashed out at her. Only the remains of her augmented reflexes allowed her to turn so that the wicked stinger missed her by a few centimeters. The monster pulled its tail back and struck again, then again, narrowly missing Celeste each time as she ducked and pivoted away.

  She raised her pistol to fire another shot when Hector dropped his gun, drew his knife, and leapt onto the monster's back with a furious roar. The creature reared up in an attempt to throw him off, but Hector held on tightly to its horns, then reached around and slashed his knife through its throat. The monster let out a howl and thrashed wildly from side to side as dark blood gushed from the wound. Hector dropped down next to it and sent it sprawling with a bull rush, then leapt on its prone form, grabbed it by the jaws, and pried them open with a sickening ripping sound. Finally, he shoved his knife deep into the creature's mouth. It shuddered and lay still.

  Celeste stared as Hector stood up and wiped off the blade of his knife. “And you call Omega a maniac.”

  “Just following his example.” Hector sheathed his knife and retrieved his pistol from the floor. “I should thank our boy for showing us their weak point.”

  Celeste noticed the lacerations on Hector's arm. “We should treat that wound,” she said. “Who knows what kinds of diseases these things are crawling with.”

  “I'll do it myself,” Hector replied.

  He took his first aid kit off his belt, sat down, and applied a perfunctory treatment of disinfectant, coagulant, and a quick spray of artificial tissue. He didn't even bother to bandage the wound before putting away the first aid kit and getting back to his feet.

  “Well?” He gestured down the corridor. “Ladies first.”

  “OK,” Celeste said uncertainly.

  She continued down the corridor, doubly alert now for signs of monsters. She wondered what had happened to all the facility's personnel. Aside from the monsters, she and Hector had seen no signs of recen
t habitation. Perhaps they had all fled after Spacy took over the facility. If so, that might slow the Xenolists' ability to launch the Messenger spores. That was an encouraging thought.

  Around the next corner, they encountered an enormous blast door. Celeste tried the console next to the door, but it demanded a pass code. She made a quick attempt to bypass the lock, but quickly determined that the security was too robust to be easily defeated.

  “Well, I don't think even you could break down this door, Hector,” she said. “See any sign of a manual override or anything?”

  There was no answer.

  “Hector?” She turned around.

  The corridor was empty. Hector was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hector?” she called louder. Still no answer.

  When had they gotten separated? She hadn't realized that, despite his size, Hector had been moving so silently that she had failed to notice when he disappeared. She made her way swiftly but quietly back down the corridor toward the last intersection. When she reached the intersection, she looked down every passage, but saw no sign of her hulking companion.

  Hector was gone.

  *

  Omega continued searching the labyrinth. He had no idea where anything was inside the atmospheric processor, but with his systematic search pattern, it was only a matter of time until he located the core. There had been that encounter with the Xenolist war beast—he had bandaged lacerations on his leg and shoulder as souvenirs—and he knew that further confrontations with the creatures were possible. But they were mere obstacles in the way of completing his mission, just like any other enemy. He wouldn't let them stand in his way.

  He rounded a corner in the passageway and came to a long chamber with a ceiling so high that the roof was invisible within a pool of darkness. Rows of giant chemical tanks lined either side of the chamber. Those tanks would make perfect cover for anyone or anything planning to launch an ambush. Omega made his way cautiously across the chamber, his eyes flicking back and forth, alert for movement in the darkness.

  When he was halfway across the chamber, something emerged from behind a tank on the far side and stood in his way. His enhanced vision made out a familiar hulking form, holding a knife in his left hand.

  “Hey there, terminal Chi strain.” Hector tossed his knife in the air and then caught it.

  “So you made it inside,” Omega replied. “Do you know where the core is?”

  Hector waited a moment before replying. “You know, I used to be an augment too,” he said. “Before I got captured and decommissioned. Tau strain. I guess Spacy figures we're obsolete now.”

  Omega really wasn't interested in Hector's life story. “If you can't help me, how about you get out of the way,” he said. “We're on a tight time limit, remember?”

  “No can do, sport.” Hector tossed his knife to himself again. “It's a funny thing. I absolutely despise Spacy. They made me what I am and then they threw me away. They're nothing but pawns for a piece of shit plutocracy. But for all I hate them, they're the ones who gave me purpose. I owe my whole reason for existence to them. Sort of like how some people feel about their parents, I guess.”

  “Sorry, but I don't really care about your personal issues.” Omega resumed walking slowly across the chamber. “Now stand aside.”

  Hector continued as if he had not heard. “You see, I've got something to prove. Everyone assumes I'm just a piece of shit drug runner. It never occurs to them what an utter humiliation my life has been ever since I fell into the hands of those scum, how I've had to prostitute my skills to vermin in order to survive. I'm a warrior. That's what I was created to be.”

  Omega was drawing close to Hector now. “Are you going to let me pass?”

  “There's just one way I can get my pride back,” Hector went on. “If I can beat Spacy's finest, I'll prove that I'm not just some worthless scum, that Spacy were idiots for abandoning me to that trash. That's you, sport. You represent everything that stands between me and my self-respect. And I'm going to take you down.”

  “Are you insane?” Omega said. “All of Chalice could be covered in Messenger spores, and you're worried about some petty vendetta?”

  “There's still time,” Hector replied. “After I've defeated you, I'll find the core and shut this place down. One thing at a time.”

  With lightning speed, Hector dashed toward Omega. Omega raised his gun and fired. Hector leapt aside into the gas tanks, causing the bullet to merely graze him.

  Omega had no intention of wasting time with this lunatic. He broke into a sprint, intending to bolt out of the exit and leave Hector behind.

  Hector had other ideas. As Omega passed, he leapt out of the gas tanks and swung his knife. Omega pulled back, barely avoiding the blow as the tip of Hector's knife grazed his chest, opening a shallow cut in his skin. Omega raised his gun and fired, but Hector interposed the blade of his knife in front of the muzzle, causing the bullet to deflect off it. Hector came in for two more swings, forcing Omega back further; then his knife caught Omega's gun and tore it out of his hand. Omega drew his own knife and parried Hector's next strike, then pushed him back.

  The two combatants paused to size each other up. Omega wasn't looking through Hector anymore. Now he was looking straight at him.

  “What was your call sign?” he asked.

  “Beta.”

  “All right, Beta.” Omega dropped his stance and adjusted his grip on his knife. “You get your wish. I'll show you the folly of a decommissioned Tau taking on the ultimate product of Chi strain.”

  *

  The deeper Vic and Astral ventured into the processor, the more oppressive the atmosphere became. The interior surfaces seemed to undulate in Vic's vision, and color started playing strange tricks, with the grays of the processor's metal plating and machinery taking on a reddish hue. Something rumbled through the complex at regular intervals, like a giant heartbeat.

  It's alive, Vic thought. There's something alive in the core of this station, and it's on a whole different level from the monsters engineered by the Xenolists. If those things are the pawns, or drones, then this is the queen.

  “This,” he gasped, finding it difficult to breathe, “this isn't really happening, is it? These visions, this vibration. It's all in our heads.”

  “I don't know,” Astral panted in reply. “I don't think these are physical phenomena. Normal people probably wouldn't see any of this. But on some level, it's real. It's happening on a different plane from what humans normally experience.”

  “That's not reassuring,” Vic said.

  “I'm sorry, Vic,” Astral said. “Regular people normally shouldn't experience any of this, but our strong connection is causing you to get feedback from me. Not as concentrated as what I'm getting, but...”

  “Not as concentrated?” Vic turned around and looked at Astral in concern. “You mean you're seeing something even worse?”

  “Yeah,” she admitted. “You don't want to hear about it. There are some pretty unpleasant visions. Scathe's consciousness is permeating the complex, and... it's pure evil. I can't even fathom the depths of such hatred.”

  “Why does it hate us so much?” Vic asked.

  “That's a paradox,” Astral replied. “I think... what it hates is hatred. Humans are full of it. Ever since we came here to Saris, we've filled the whole planetary system with it. It's like we've created a vicious feedback loop, where the hatred feeds off itself and multiplies without end; and as a result, Scathe has grown exponentially in power.”

  “Do you mean,” Vic said in shock, “we created Scathe?”

  “I don't know. That's not what the Voice told me in the past. But I think we might have a lot to do with how potent it's become.” Astral shivered and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “Vic, I'm frightened. Could I hold on to you?”

  “Of course.” Vic held out his arm and let Astral take hold of it.

  “Thanks.” Astral nestled close to his side. “I'm not as scared when I'm close to you.�
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  “The feeling is mutual,” Vic replied. They reached another intersection. “Which way now?”

  “Right.”

  Vic took a right turn and continued down the corridor. “God,” he said, his head throbbing from the smothering atmosphere. “With this much mental interference, I hate to think what's waiting for us in the core.”

  *

  Separated from Hector, Celeste made her way alone through the labyrinth. Without her partner at her side, she felt far more vulnerable, and cast constant glances over her shoulder for fear that something was sneaking up behind her. Just one of those monsters had taken a concerted effort from both of them to kill it. She dreaded fighting them alone, especially if they attacked in a group.

  As she continued searching the maze, she thought she heard two gunshots in the distance. That probably meant that one of her allies was engaging another of those creatures—maybe Hector, maybe someone else.

  She quickened her pace to a jog and tried to make her way toward the sound of the shots. She got turned around in the twisting corridors a couple of times, but soon she came across a cavernous chamber filled with gas tanks. She spotted a crumpled form lying on the far side of the chamber and ran toward it. It was Hector.

  “Hector!” She ran forward and knelt at his side. Blood trickled out of his mouth, and he was covered with lacerations, including a deep puncture wound near his heart.

  “What happened?” she asked as she got out her first aid kit.

  Hector grabbed her wrist. “Don't bother,” he rasped. “I'm finished.”

  Ignoring him, she extracted supplies from her kit. “What did this to you?” she demanded. “Was it those monsters?”

  “Nope,” Hector gurgled. “Omega.”