Starcraft II_ Heaven's Devils Part 21

Raynor immediately recognized the red armor and the distinctive tanks as belonging to Harnack! The Devil was behind the goliath and no more than ten feet away when he said, "Surprise!" "Surprise!" and triggered the igniter. There was a loud whump as the flames. .h.i.t the big machine, found their way into its power supply, and followed a fuel line to its source. The machine's pilot was just starting to react when the goliath came apart and the resulting boom echoed between the buildings of north Polk's Pride. and triggered the igniter. There was a loud whump as the flames. .h.i.t the big machine, found their way into its power supply, and followed a fuel line to its source. The machine's pilot was just starting to react when the goliath came apart and the resulting boom echoed between the buildings of north Polk's Pride.

Doc was already in motion, with Max Speer only steps behind her, as pieces of debris floated down out of the sky and the black smoke began to clear. That was when they saw Harnack. The front surface of his suit had been blackened and his chest plate was cracked, but he was still vertical. "d.a.m.n!" Harnack said, as he reached up to remove his helmet. "That was awesome!" "That was awesome!"

"You are one crazy b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Tychus commented as he strode past. "Bail out of that suit... . It's toast."

Now that the goliath had been defeated, the trip up past the point where the resocs had been slaughtered was relatively easy. And once on top, where one of the comsat station's st.u.r.dy legs provided cover, it was possible to spread out and go after the rear-echelon types who had been ordered to take part in a last-ditch defense effort. "Time for some sweet talkin', boys," Tychus announced. "We gotta seduce these ladies outta their hiding spots."

A few chuckles, kissing noises, and here, kitty kitty here, kitty kittys crackled through the frequency as the Devils began to stalk their prey.

The KMs were crouched behind pieces of fanciful sculpture that harkened back to more peaceful times and were firing on anything that moved. Kydd thinned them out with a few shots while the rest of the Devils singled out their targets and took them down.

Just then a lieutenant arrived on the scene with some resocialized marines right behind him. He waved the troops forward. Two or three fell as grenades exploded among them, but most made it through and slaughtered the KM survivors with ruthless efficiency.

That cleared the way to the circular lobby directly below the comsat station's mast. The lifts would take them down into the maze of tunnels below, so Tychus waved the Devils forward, but was forced to stop when the lieutenant stepped out to block the way. "Hold it right there, Sergeant," the officer said evenly. "You will enter the elevators on my command."

Tychus frowned. "No offense, sir, but we have the b.a.s.t.a.r.ds on the run... . Shouldn't we follow up?"

It was like talking to a rock. "We have our orders, and our orders are always correct," the resoc answered.

"He's one of Vanderspool's color guards," Raynor said quietly. "Which means the big cheese will arrive any second now." As if to confirm the connection, a loud roar was heard as a drops.h.i.+p flared in to land on the plaza beyond. And as a ramp dropped, the officer emerged. His armor was spotless. Having waited until the surrounding area was secure, Vanderspool was there to take part in the final a.s.sault, even if that gave the KMs more time to prepare.

The reason for the delay was apparent as Speer ran forward to doc.u.ment the colonel's arrival. "What an a.s.shole," Tychus said to no one in particular.

"The sergeant will employ correct comm procedure," the lieutenant said primly, "and refrain from the use of profanity. Over."

Raynor thought about Sanchez, the resocialized marines, and all the others whose bodies lay like a b.l.o.o.d.y carpet between the river and the repository. An important objective had been taken. But at what price?

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

"... so completely devastated by war, it's difficult to say whether the natural resources that initially drew settlers to Turaxis II were a blessing or a curse."

Historian Tannis Yard, in an excerpt from The Guild Wars The Guild Wars THE CITY OF POLK'S PRIDE, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II The afternoon following the attack on the Kel-Morian repository the Confederates were still in the process of securing the repository and the area around it. A battalion of resocialized marines had been brought in to relieve the surviving members of the 321st. Cl.u.s.ters of them were sitting around the riverfront, shooting the breeze and waiting for a chance to cross the pontoon bridge into south Polk's Pride.

The span was too narrow to accommodate two-way traffic, so until such time as the second parallel bridge was completed, it was necessary to wait up to an hour before the MPs switched the flow from one direction to the other.

The members of the Heaven's Devils didn't care, though. It was early afternoon, the air was warm, and they were happy to sit around doing nothing as traffic rumbled over the bridge. The Devils had taken over what had once been a ground-floor office in a blown-out warehouse, and most of them had shed their suits. The single exception was Ward, who was waiting for Feek to run a diagnostic program on his armor. The rest of the Devils were lounging about as Speer strolled into the area.

There were warm greetings as everyone gathered around to say h.e.l.lo to the civilian a few of them regarded as an unofficial member of the squad. And that was when Speer urged the group to step outside the shattered building for a group vidsnap.

The Devils shuffled out and gathered in a loose formation, despite Speer's protests to "Move closer," "look alive," and "please, work with me, here!" They were worn out, beat up, and, though in high spirits, a couple of them still had no patience for the reporter. As they turned out to face the camera, Harnack insisted on holding his flamethrower, Zander thought it would be funny to light a cigar off of it, and Kydd hid most of his face under a boonie hat and a pair of mirrorshades. Feek was there as well, perched on top of Ward's gauss cannon, right behind Raynor and a bare-chested Tychus. Doc, who was high on crab, sat off to the side. "Got it!" Speer said brightly as he took the shot. "I'll call it 'the Devils take a break.' Our viewers will love it. So, where are you headed next? Or is that cla.s.sified?"

"Raynor's probably headed for a work camp," Tychus said, "since Sergeant Rockwell is going to press charges."

"And the rest of you?"

"Who the h.e.l.l knows?" Tychus continued. "There's got to be some sort of s.h.i.+t detail they can give us."

Speer made a face. "Well, hang in there... . Perhaps we'll meet again."

Feek said his good-byes and both men left. A Klaxon sounded ten minutes later, traffic began to flow south across the bridge, and the Devils were free to follow. For others, millions of them, the wars continued.

MILITARY STOCKADE-7, WEST OF POLK'S PRIDE, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II Raynor's wrist and leg irons rattled noisily as he hobbled out of Barracks #2 and began to cross the barren yard. It was surrounded by one-story buildings that were all painted the same shade of puke green with wire mesh over their windows. About three dozen other prisoners were out getting some sun, and a few hollered greetings as Raynor shuffled past. He waved with two linked hands in response.

The restraints were standard for anyone who was receiving a visitor. It wasn't that the stockade personnel believed prisoners would try to escape-the well-secured visitor's center made that very unlikely. No, they were intended to humiliate the prisoners, which was considered part of their punishment.

Raynor could just imagine his mother's face, seeing him shackled like that, and his father, wondering if he'd done his son a disservice by teaching him to stand up to bullies. Because in the real world, the rules were different-or at least that was what Raynor had come to find out. This wasn't some obnoxious kid cutting him off in traffic. This was real. Painfully and sickeningly real.

But Raynor wondered, should evil go unpunished just because it's wielded by someone in power? Was this one of those times that his dad had described to him, when you had to know "when to get involved and when to walk away"? Plenty of times during his sentence he had asked himself, if he had the chance to live that moment over again, would he still hit Rockwell? The answer was always the same, and no shackles or chains could ever change it.

A hard-eyed resocialized marine held up his hand as Raynor approached the door. "Hold it right there, Private... . Let's have a look at those eyeb.a.l.l.s."

d.a.m.n, Raynor thought to himself, Raynor thought to himself, they're everywhere. they're everywhere.

In addition to being sentenced to thirty days in the stockade for striking Sergeant Rockwell, Raynor had been busted to private, and his pay had been docked as well. Now, after twenty-eight days in the slammer he was used to being scanned, and was careful not to blink as the guard flicked the pistol-shaped device from left to right. Because to blink, and possibly interrupt the scan, was to be defiant. And that could result in a loss of privileges, including the freedom to receive visitors.

"You may proceed," the marine said cheerfully, as he stepped to one side.

Chains rattled as Raynor was forced to hop up three stairs and open a metal door with both of his shackled hands. Once inside he hobbled across a mirror-bright floor to the check-in kiosk where a bored-looking corporal scanned him again again.

Then, having been cleared, Raynor was sent to Booth #3 where Feek was waiting for him. All of the Devils had been by at various times, but Feek's visits had been the most frequent, because the civilian had the freedom to come and go as he pleased. "How ya doin'?" Feek asked. A plasteel barrier separated them, and, as usual, Feek had to kneel on his chair in order to speak through the metal grill.

"Good," Raynor lied. "Real good. I sure am itchin' to get back, though."

"I'll bet," Feek agreed. "The whole squad will be down in Darby two days from now. And Tychus talked your new platoon leader into letting you go, too. His name is Tyson and he hates hates Rockwell. So no problem there." Rockwell. So no problem there."

"That's great," Raynor said enthusiastically. "I could use some R and R. That's for sure."

Feek grinned understandingly. "I wish I could join you ... but I'll be working overtime. A new s.h.i.+pment of suits came in and I've gotta get them up and running."

"And my suit?"

"It's black," Feek replied, "just like you asked for, with the skull on the visor. It looks so bada.s.s, man. Lieutenant Tyson will s.h.i.+t a brick when he sees it-but that's your your problem." problem."

"Roger that," Raynor agreed. "It's time those KM b.a.s.t.a.r.ds know that death is coming for them."

"Maybe," Feek replied doubtfully. "Meanwhile, there's something else I need to tell you about. Something you should pa.s.s on to Tychus."

"Yeah? What's that?"

Feek looked left and right as if to a.s.sure himself that none of the other visitors were close enough to hear before making eye contact with Raynor. "Vanderspool sent a tech I had never met before down to run maintenance checks on about forty sets of armor-including all of the suits that belong to you guys."

"So?"

"That's my my job. Why send a new guy? Unless somebody doesn't trust me. job. Why send a new guy? Unless somebody doesn't trust me.

"Once the tech left I went over the suits with a fine-tooth comb. And guess what? The sonofab.i.t.c.h installed kill switches in every hardskin."

Raynor frowned. "Kill switches?"

"Yeah," Feek replied. "Meaning remotely operated switches that would enable the colonel to trigger the emergency lockdown mode and freeze your suits."

Raynor gave a low whistle. "The rotten SOB."

"Exactly," the other man agreed. "So I cut the input circuits. Which means Vanderspool can push the b.u.t.ton all day long and nothing will happen."

Raynor grinned. "How many beers do we owe you?"

Feek laughed. "Enough for me to swim in! You watch that b.a.s.t.a.r.d, Jim. You watch him real good. He's up to something and that's no lie."

The rest of the fifteen-minute-long visit was spent on more trivial matters, but when it came time for Raynor to hobble out into the prison yard, his mind went back to what Feek had told him. Vanderspool was up to something ... but what? what?

THE CITY OF DARBY, ON THE PLANET TURAXIS II.

The city of Darby was located seventy-five miles south of Polk's Pride, and because it had little to no strategic importance, was almost entirely untouched by the fighting. It was a picturesque place that occupied the western sh.o.r.e of a beautiful lake. It was fed by the Padd.i.c.k River, which meant dead bodies were swept up in fis.h.i.+ng nets from time to time, but the city was otherwise bright and cheerful, even at night when the citizens made use of flashlights to counter the mandatory blackout.

Having completed an uncomfortable truck ride down from Polk's Pride and checked into a so-called "military hotel," the Devils had agreed to go their separate ways during the first evening and gather the following night. Tychus, Doc, and Harnack were headed out to sample the city's nightlife, while Ward was intent on logging some extra rack time, and Kydd was determined to have what he called some "real food." That left Zander, who offered to accompany the sniper.

After obtaining the name of a good restaurant, Kydd and Zander ventured out onto a busy street. Both wore tasteful civvies, but no one who knew anything about the area would have mistaken them for locals.

Two moons were still up, so there was enough light to see by as the men left their hotel. They had obtained a map and flashlights for later from the concierge, but before they started on their way, Kydd and Zander paused for a moment to look out over the lake. Most of the city's homes were built on terraces carved out of a large hill, but at least a thousand were perched on pilings and sat directly above the water. Those structures, along with some of the businesses that served them, were connected by a maze of elevated bridges, walkways, and in some cases simple planks. That meant visitors had to be very careful not to get lost or fall into the cold waters below.

It was a possibility that Kydd kept firmly in mind as he and Zander followed the map down to the waterfront, out onto a pedestrian-only causeway, and into the Lakehome neighborhood. Charming homes stood side by side with shops as well as utilitarian buildings that served the city's extremely important fis.h.i.+ng industry.

And farther out, where un.o.bstructed views of the water were available, restaurant row was waiting to be explored. That's where the young men were headed, to an eatery that was supposed to be one of the best. In the meantime there were cute girls to look at, other soldiers to systematically ignore, and storefronts that sold things other than p.o.r.no, tattoos, and trashy clothing. All of which was a change for Zander, who had been raised in a slum and was very conscious of his lower-cla.s.s origins.

Kydd was aware that many of his childhood friends would have seen someone like Zander as "low cla.s.s," but after months spent in the military, he no longer cared about such distinctions. Zander was a member of Heaven's Devils-and that was the only pedigree he had any interest in.

Still, Zander felt the first stirrings of doubt as they arrived in front of the restaurant called Waves, and made for the front door. "I don't know, Ryk," he said doubtfully, as a well-dressed couple entered in front of them. "Are you sure about this? What if I use the wrong fork or something?"

"Just do what I do," Kydd replied confidently. "But even if you make a mistake, who the h.e.l.l cares? You're a Heaven's Devil! That's an accomplishment that none of the people in this restaurant can match."

Kydd's comments made Zander feel better, and he held his head high and shoulders back as they were shown into the dining room. It featured dozens of linen-covered tables, all of which looked out onto a marvelous view. Thousands of jewel fish rose to the surface each evening, and people never tired of looking at the fabulous wash of color generated by their red, green, and blue-tipped feelers.

The most prized seats were directly in front of an enormous window that looked out onto the lake. But such tables were reserved for VIPs, or those willing to slip the maitre d' some cash. So Kydd and Zander were shown to a small two-person table on the second tier next to the south wall. But the view was still still incredible, and as Zander sat down, he knew he'd been correct to accompany Kydd. Because Zander had been to plenty of dives, but here was something completely different, and very special. incredible, and as Zander sat down, he knew he'd been correct to accompany Kydd. Because Zander had been to plenty of dives, but here was something completely different, and very special.

Neither one of them was familiar with the local cuisine, so they ordered "Wave Samplers" on the theory that they were sure to like at least part of what the restaurant had to offer. And, based on the deep-fried kitza appetizers that were forthcoming ten minutes later, they were in for a treat.

So there they were, enjoying mugs of locally brewed beer and delicious civilian food, when two men entered and were shown to the best table in the restaurant. A spot centered on the huge window and lit from above. Kydd's eyes were focused on the view beyond, so Zander was the one to take notice of the newcomers. "Holy c.r.a.p, Ryk ... Colonel Vanderspool just walked in!"

Kydd s.h.i.+fted his gaze, saw Vanderspool, and was about to say something snarky when the other other man's face came into view. That was when Kydd's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. It couldn't be! Yet there he was, sitting no more than twenty-five feet away! Kydd immediately dropped his gaze down, propped an elbow on the tabletop, and lifted a hand to his forehead. man's face came into view. That was when Kydd's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. It couldn't be! Yet there he was, sitting no more than twenty-five feet away! Kydd immediately dropped his gaze down, propped an elbow on the tabletop, and lifted a hand to his forehead.

Zander saw Kydd's reaction and looked concerned. "Ryk? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I know the second man," Kydd said tightly, "although I'm surprised to see him here."

"Yeah?" Zander said. "Who is he?"

"His name is Errol Bennet," Kydd replied, "and he's my father."

The second course arrived, but the two soldiers didn't notice. Zander looked at the man in question and back again. "No way! That's terrific! Are you going to go over and say h.e.l.lo?"

"No," Kydd replied flatly. "Part of me wants to... . I admit that. But another part wants to know the answer to a very important question."

Zander's eyebrows rose. "Which is ...?"

"Why is my father on Turaxis II-having dinner with Colonel Vanderspool, who is a self-aggrandizing a.s.shole, and almost certainly a thief?"

Zander shrugged philosophically. "Um, remember Fort Howe? And the load of jammers? We're still spending the money."

Kydd knew Zander was correct. It was hypocritical to accuse Vanderspool, and by implication his father, of crimes he he had committed. But even so, he couldn't bring himself to stand up and cross what seemed like a vast chasm. He'd been living a lie for months now, but somewhere in the middle of it all, that lie had become reality. And there was Vanderspool to consider... . What would happen if Kydd walked up to them right then and there? It would be catastrophic! The truth regarding his ident.i.ty would come out-and his father would insist that he leave the military. had committed. But even so, he couldn't bring himself to stand up and cross what seemed like a vast chasm. He'd been living a lie for months now, but somewhere in the middle of it all, that lie had become reality. And there was Vanderspool to consider... . What would happen if Kydd walked up to them right then and there? It would be catastrophic! The truth regarding his ident.i.ty would come out-and his father would insist that he leave the military.

Kydd felt a vague plan start to form in his mind. A childish scheme, really, that involved following his father back to wherever it was that he was staying, and a possible reunion without Vanderspool being present. He warned his dinner companion, and gave the other man a chance to bow out, but Zander shook his head. "Are you kidding? No way ... I'll watch your six."

The two managed to enjoy the rest of their dinner, but Kydd never took his eyes off the pair.

Having already paid the rather extravagant bill, Kydd was ready when the two men rose from their table, paused to say something to the formally attired maitre d', and left. It was easy to follow them out of the restaurant and down a darkened walkway.

But rather than head for the pedestrian causeway and the sh.o.r.eline beyond, Vanderspool and Bennet turned in the opposite direction. Kydd was surprised to see that neither one of the men was accompanied by bodyguards, but supposed that was indicative of where they were, and the nature of their relations.h.i.+p.

Despite being off the beaten path, there was still a bit of foot traffic. So Kydd and Zander were able to remain inconspicuous as they followed the two men to a low-slung building that had the name F ISH ISHC O O painted on the side of it in big black letters. A boatyard was located right next door. There was the glow of what might have been floodlights from the water side of the structure, and based on the intermittent sound of power tools, it appeared that work was going to continue well into the night. painted on the side of it in big black letters. A boatyard was located right next door. There was the glow of what might have been floodlights from the water side of the structure, and based on the intermittent sound of power tools, it appeared that work was going to continue well into the night.

As the door to the FishCo building opened to let the men enter, a shaft of light shot out onto the walkway. Kydd caught sight of two Bennet family retainers and a couple of men who might have been resocialized marines dressed in civilian clothes.

What could that mean? Kydd wondered as he and Zander paused at the end of the boardwalk and pretended to look at the view. A throaty rumble was heard and a dimly lit wave skimmer appeared out of the darkness. It slowed as it pa.s.sed under them, and Kydd could hear waves slapping against the pilings as the engine died. Kydd wondered as he and Zander paused at the end of the boardwalk and pretended to look at the view. A throaty rumble was heard and a dimly lit wave skimmer appeared out of the darkness. It slowed as it pa.s.sed under them, and Kydd could hear waves slapping against the pilings as the engine died.

Were more people arriving to meet with Vanderspool and his father? Or was that simply a fis.h.i.+ng boat? Kydd had no way to know but was very curious. "Wait here," he said, as he turned to Zander. "I'm going to find out what's going on in there."

"Forget it," Zander responded. "I'm coming with you! Remember Firebase Zulu? I had your back then and I've got it now."

Kydd slapped the other man on his shoulder and smiled. "You're just as crazy as Harnack. You know that?"

Zander grinned. He was forced to speak loudly to be heard over the chatter of a power wrench. "Look who's talking! How are we going to get in?"

"Over there," Kydd replied. "See the outside stairs that lead up to the second floor? Maybe the door's unlocked."

That seemed unlikely, but Zander didn't have a better idea, and seconds later he was a few steps behind the sniper, tiptoeing up the wooden stairs to a landing and a weather-beaten door. It was, as Zander had expected it would be, firmly locked. "d.a.m.n!" Kydd whispered. "We're fekked."

"I have an idea," Zander replied. "Boost me up... . Maybe there's a way down from the roof."

Kydd looked up, judged that the roof was flat enough to stand on, and nodded. "Good idea ... be careful, though. I know my father's people will be armed, and chances are Vanderspool's bodyguards are, too."

Zander nodded, put his right foot into the cradle that Kydd provided, and was ready when the larger man heaved him upward. There was a muted thump as Zander threw his forearms out onto the roof. Then, having brought a leg up and over, he disappeared from sight.