The Topaz Operation Page 8

  * * *

  Bao and Peex, trying to not stick out too much, walked down an alley a half block away and peered around a corner. Several food and vegetable stands lined the way. An old man pulling a rickshaw filled with tomatoes passed right by Bao and Peex, paying no mind to them.

  “Apparently the Archs haven’t shut everyone down yet,” whispered Bao.

  “Brave guy,” said Peex.

  A patrol of two Archon troops accompanied by a three-wheeled security bot strolled farther down the street leading to the capitol building. An eight-foot-tall concrete fence capped with barbed-wire surrounded the rear courtyard.

  “Why don’t we get back in the tank?” said Peex.

  “Nice thought, but we need precision here. Don’t want to start a full blown battle yet.”

  “True enough.”

  “You picked up enemy readings for underground, right?”

  “Yeah, a bunch. Hopefully just maintenance workers for the shield, unless they’re already onto us. The exposed portion of the tubes is somewhat unguarded.”

  “How much is somewhat?”

  Peex held up his scanner. “I see two, maybe three warm bodies in that area.”

  “But we have to get there first. Follow me.” Bao led them down the street and they ducked inside a shabby storefront, coming face to face with an old woman holding a basket of fish.

  “Pardon me, sirs,” the woman said. With head down she carried the basket out to her fish stand on the street.

  Tense, Peex looked at Bao.

  “She thinks we’re Archon,” said Bao.

  “Gotcha.”

  “Rik, do you have a visual on the courtyard?” said Bao into his helmet comm.

  “Yes, but I don’t see you,” said Flaro’s voice.

  “Good,” said Bao. “Check back in five.”

  “Don’t do anything stupid,” said Flaro.

  “Copy that,” said Bao.

  Chapter 18

  Mitchett, floating horizontally six feet in the air, felt as if he might die, but he didn’t. He dropped back down to the concrete floor, landing hard on his right arm.

  Farash lowered his staff. “Fascinating. A crude, brutish, simpleton such as you has resisted me thus far.”

  Mitchett’s arm was so numb he wasn’t sure if it was still connected to his body. “Who are you callin’ brutish?” he moaned as he rolled over. The sight of his arm still attached was comforting, but otherwise he felt his brain had been turned inside out and flushed down the toilet. Qusam’s advice to shut off as much thought as possible was helpful, likely saving his sanity.

  “It’s too bad your mother couldn’t be here to see you now, to see how brave you have been,” said the wizard.

  “I couldn’t care less.” Mitchett berated himself inwardly for saying that out loud, perhaps revealing too much.

  “Don’t lie to yourself, Commander. You do care. You always have. The alcohol didn’t lie when it robbed you of her and nearly took your life as well.”

  “What’s your point? This is getting boring.” Mitchett’s background would not have been hard for Archon intelligence to figure out. The wizard was obviously trying to push his buttons.

  “Your lady friend found you unlovable as well.”

  Okay, now he’s hitting below the belt. “What do you know about any of that?”

  “The Supreme Archon’s eyes are everywhere. Young Miss Gelibor decided you were not worth the effort.”

  Mitchett rolled over to his other side, facing away from the wizard. He hadn’t even processed things with Jyssa yet. She ended their relationship to focus on her training—so she said. Ryle and Aph kept theirs going over lots of distance and crazy events. Jyssa could have too if she really wanted to.

  “It’s too bad she will have to die so horribly without even having the guts to tell you the truth.”

  Mitchett rolled back towards him. “Huh?” was all he could muster out.

  “It pains me to break the news to you, but her ship was shot down over Onyx. She was captured and forced into Zermal’s slave army…where people do not come out alive. At least the good ones don’t.”

  Mitchett’s face reddened. “You think I haven’t read the Archon 101 manual? You’re all a pack of liars.”

  “By now she has been...equipped...with enhanced arms and legs and trained for combat. Though I heard the food supply ran out two, maybe three days ago.”

  Mitchett responded with a pained grunt. His anger boiled, but he forced himself to cool off.

  “Don’t believe me?” With his staff Farash traced the outline of a rectangle in the air. The rectangle formed into a screen which displayed images from Onyx of hundreds of people, men and women, lying starving in the desert. The picture dissolved into a scene of a crashed Chrysolite fighter.

  Mitchett knew real images when he saw them. He had personally visited that desert on prior covert missions with Ryle. That fighter was definitely Jyssa’s Hydro-5—the grey scuff across the rear fin from the training incident made it unmistakable—but Jyssa herself was nowhere to be seen. If anything happens to her…

  “Von, since your life is essentially worthless now, do something worthwhile and provide me with information. I can get Miss Gelibor removed from her service on Onyx to perhaps live another day,” said the wizard as the screen dissipated.

  Mitchett lay quiet.

  “If you continue to refuse, I will not be permitted to let you live.”

  The time had come for the ace in Mitchett’s pocket. “Oh okay, then I’ll give you information about our special forces.”

  The wizard cocked his head as if in disbelief. “I am listening, Commander.”

  “If you kill me...that’s a bad idea.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Ever heard of Deathblood?”

  Even though the Qesem’s face was concealed, Mitchett could tell he struck him dumb. “It’s never been proven,” the wizard spurted abruptly.

  “Then I wouldn’t test it now.” Deathblood was an ancient belief that when a person dies, their blood “sings.” The dark wizards had always rejected it, deeming it nonsense because none of their kind had ever “heard” it or sensed it, so they claimed. Qusam and Ryle had cooked up an experiment together, using similar techniques to Ryle’s Galacnote creation, and needed a guinea pig. Mitchett volunteered just for situations like this.

  “Now, I’m not an expert on wizard stuff, but I know people who are,” said Mitchett.

  “Qusam the traitor?”

  “Anyway, my blood cells have been altered. If I die, my blood will...sing, or whatever...and it’ll send out a signal to Chrysolite letting them know exactly where I am, and whether my comrades are still alive, therefore calling your bluff.”

  Farash laughed. “Preposterous. You have spent entirely too much time with that fallen so-called wizard. He is a disgrace to the way of truth. How does your alleged trick even work?”

  “Each blood cell sucks all the power in the vicinity up to an entire city block. This whole place would be shut down.”

  Farash didn’t respond.

  Mitchett continued. “So, you can try it if you want.”

  “We could simply move you elsewhere.”

  “But that would be a lot of trouble, wouldn’t it?” said Mitchett. “Oh, and don’t try to drain the blood out of me. We thought of that.”

  Another moment of silence.

  “I think you’re afraid to try it,” said Mitchett. “Because you’re afraid it might be true.”

  Farash swept up his staff, twirled it, and bellowed an angry, powerful chant. A whirlwind swept up Mitchett and tossed him toward the blown out hole in the wall. He crashed through the hole, tripling its size.

  Everything went black.

  Chapter 19

  Ryle and Lygalia pried apart the elevator shaft doors. The relative emptiness of the building stirred up disgust in Ryle at the Archon’s shut down of this once great city’s commerce, but the lack of resistance did make things easier. A
few floors contained minimal human activity aside from troop patrols. The banks operated with a skeleton crew of hand-picked Archon loyalists, though based on scanning reports floors six through ten were military heavy.

  “The lift is on floor fifteen. Let’s boost up to fourteen then reroute,” said Ryle.

  “Roger that,” said Lygalia.

  They activated their leg boosters and rocketed up the shaft. The floor levels whizzed by and they reached the doors to floor fourteen. Together they pried open the doors and deactivated their boosters, setting down in a corridor face to face with an Archon squad manning a seated control station.

  Four Archon troops plus an officer jumped to alert, fumbling for their weapons. Lygalia leapt into action, drawing both her short sword and staff. She sliced down two soldiers and spun her staff. With a swift melody, Lygalia stirred up a wind that blew the officer up against the ceiling and crashing back down to the floor. Ryle, with rifle-silencer on, blasted down the other two troops before they fired a shot.

  “I thought you said this floor was clear,” said Lygalia, sheathing her sword.

  “Yes, that’s concerning,” said Ryle as he examined the control station. “Something is confusing our personal sensors.”

  “Not acceptable.”

  Ryle appreciated her direct wit. “But my reading on the RadShield is still intact. We’ll definitely know when it goes down. I say we stick to the plan. Let’s go.”

  “After you, boss.”

  They headed down the corridor.

  * * *

  Bao and Peex climbed up the wall behind a restaurant and onto its roof, giving them a visual of their target inside the courtyard. They crawled up behind a bulky, bomb-damaged billboard sign. Burn marks obscured the sign’s words. Staring through his scope, Bao identified the tubes and the pack of troops blocking their path.

  “I thought there were only two or three warm bodies?” said Bao.

  Peex banged his sensor against his other hand. “This thing isn’t working right.”

  “It’s a bad time for it not to work.”

  “I know, I know. Wait,” said Peex as he adjusted a knob. “It’s not the sensor.”

  “Then...hold on, Ryle’s calling,” said Bao. Ryle’s voice crackled and popped. “Boss-1, I do not copy. Repeat!” said Bao. No response. “It must be the radiation from that shield messing with us.”

  “How will we know they’re in position?” said Peex.

  Bao checked his wrist-scanner. “The old-fashioned way. Ryle and I went over this for such scenarios. Watch for lights up near the roof: Green flashing light means proceed with task cautiously. Red flare means all hell has broken loose.” Bao tapped his helmet. “Rik, can you hear me?”

  After a beat. “Yeeess. Don’t move,” echoed Flaro’s voice.

  An Archon troop’s body fell from above and plopped onto the roof six feet away from them. A smoking hole puffed out of his helmet. “He was clearly aiming at you from the neighboring rooftop. Whatever you’re going to do, get on with it,” said Flaro.

  “Boss-1, come in,” tried Bao to no avail. Electronic static hissed back.

  High up by the commerce building—a red flare stretched across the sky.

  Bao’s heart raced. “Go! Go!” Bao and Peex jumped down to the street, their anti-grav’s cushioning the fall, and bolted toward the capitol’s rear courtyard. An Archon tank checkpoint blocked their path. They both pulled up and fired their grenade launchers. The grenades sped toward the tank and gashed a dent in its side while blowing away several troops. Bao and Peex jumped onto the tank, ran up its exterior, and boosted over the fence into the courtyard. As they landed, Bao blasted three Archon troops and Peex gunned down two more. The way to the tubes was clear.

  “Set the charges!” shouted Bao.

  Peex ran straight for the tubes, but a laserblast from the building above sliced into his shoulder, spinning him to the ground. Bao aimed up at the source—the second floor windows—and fired his blaster-rifle, but his shots bounced off the RadShield. Three more gunmen emerged from other windows, firing down at him. Apparently blaster fire could go out of the shield but not into it. Bao dragged Peex behind the dead troops’ bodies—their only cover.

  Another tank busted through the wall opposite them and unleashed a dizzyingly-powerful plasma blast, blowing a huge hole in the ground near Bao and Peex, flinging them backward and spraying them with dirt. Several more Archon troops, having deduced the team’s target, entered the area and blocked the path to the tubes.

  “Zermal better be worth it,” Bao muttered.

  Chapter 20

  Ryle and Lygalia penetrated all the way to the commerce building’s roof before the enemy wised up. A vexing Archon squad had them pinned down unable to make a clear jump. Ryle and Lygalia kneeled behind air turbines while a dozen troops fired on their position.

  “What’s happening down there? Is the RadShield still up?” said Lygalia.

  “Yes. We can’t go yet,” said Ryle. He flung a fist-sized camera drone over the roof. The drone flew above the courtyard and zoomed in. The images played on Ryle’s wrist-screen: the tank bursting into the courtyard and the troops pinning down Bao and Peex.

  “I’m going down there. I’ll catch up with you,” said Lygalia.

  “What?” said Ryle. “Actually, you’re probably right.” His guys needed serious backup.

  “In three minutes, make the jump.”

  Ryle, impressed by her decisiveness, would re-assess the situation—if he could—before he leapt off the building. He uncorked and tossed two smoke grenades toward the Archon troops while Lygalia ran to the edge and soared off.

  * * *

  Bao dragged Peex out of the line of fire of another massive tank blast while dodging shots from above—but this was not a sustainable strategy. A squad of troops advanced toward them, but the lead trooper suddenly flopped to the ground—dead from a sniper shot to the head. The squad halted and another fell dead; the whole Archon squad dropped to a crawling position.

  Bao glanced upward. Thanks, Rik! Bao clutched onto Peex’s torso in a vain effort to protect him. Amidst the explosions, flashes of fire, and noise of blasterbolts racing over, the halting puff of anti-grav boots landing close by drew Bao’s attention. Lygalia planted her feet, held out her staff toward the tank and bellowed out the most forceful song he ever heard from her. A fervent squall stirred up within the courtyard, shoving the Archon troops backward and blowing their rifles out of their hands.

  The tank’s turret rotated toward her position. A bluish-orange glow inside the turret indicated it was preparing to release unbridled fury. Lygalia waved her arms and sang even louder. A wind tempest swirled under the tank, lifted it off the ground, and twisted the turret back toward the power tubes. The entire metal beast crashed into the tubes, crushing them as it simultaneously fired its cannon, exploding open the tubes in a bursting, electrified ball of flame. The force of the explosion spun the tank around and it crashed onto its side.

  * * *

  Ryle’s wrist-scanner twitched with activity due to the explosion. He threw his last smoke bomb and a grenade for good measure at the enemy troops. He set his feet, sprinted toward the roof’s edge, and leapt off in his rigid swan style. The shield around the capitol—normally invisible—flashed orange and red, fizzled with energy, and went blank.

  Ryle’s leg boosters fired at full thrust, rocketing him toward floor thirty where he aimed for the third window from the right. He crashed through double-paned glass, rolled several times and came to a halt about ten feet away from a very short man—four feet eleven inches tall—wearing a black, robe-like suit and black-rimmed eye spectacles, speaking earnestly into a comm.

  “Yes, my Lord. I am bringing it now! But I must go retrieve it.” The man, with scar tissue across his neck and his voice echoing with a faint metallic tinge, stopped at the sight of Ryle pointing his rifle at him.

  “Don’t move, Zermal,” said Ryle.

  “Tara!” said Zermal, glan
cing behind Ryle.

  Ryle fired his C-Wire, but while in the act of pulling the trigger he was lifted up from behind and thrown across the room, the wire wrapping itself around a mechanical contraption protruding from the ceiling and squeezing the circuits out of it. Ryle slammed against the opposite wall. A seven-foot-tall wizard in flowing cream-colored robes with a red cape bore down on Ryle like a phantom. Ryle yanked out his DLS and fired directly at it, but the wizard’s arm moved in a flash and snatched the cylinder out of the air.

  A perfect pitched, smooth female voice spoke. “Implosion bomb. That’s not very nice,” said Tara as she examined the cylinder.

  Zermal shuffled on his short legs, with a bit of a limp, over to a metal compartment by the far window. The wall containing the window retracted to reveal open sky, releasing into the room the swirl of outside wind. A hatch opened on the compartment and Zermal climbed in while its rear boosters flared orange.

  That’s a ship! Ryle fired a grenade at Zermal’s ship, but Tara tossed the implosion cylinder into the grenade’s path and together they imploded in a dazzling, spinning, ring-like display of molecular shutdown.

  Once the implosion ring faded, Ryle activated his leg boosters, shooting himself straight toward Zermal’s ship. Ryle jammed his rifle into the closing hatch to keep it from sealing shut, but Tara was upon him again. She pulled out her staff and whacked Ryle across the chest sending him sliding backwards with his rifle slipping out of his hands and clanking across the floor.

  Zermal’s ship rose up and blasted out of the building and over the city. Ryle’s message comm lit up: Ryle, jump in thirty seconds—Jys. His hopes soared, but Tara stood in his path. She picked up his rifle and broke it in two pieces. He pulled out his pistol blaster. As Tara approached again, a beautiful song enveloped the room. Tara turned around and beheld Lygalia with her staff raised.