Reapers: The Shadow Soldiers Read online

  After Burns got over the outer walls and opened the gates, Brosi was to enter the Fort in a Vanquisher and then make his way on foot to the EUC currently linked with the cannon. In order to make sure the Collective didn’t notice, Burns and the rest of the Survivors would make as much as noise as possible while simultaneously freeing the hostages. It was risky, so Shamera would provide sniper cover from outside as well as calling out targets. After both objectives were completed, they would all make their exit. Except, they wouldn’t be using the front door.

  Apparently, a mountain access tunnel was built back in the old days. It’d since been closed up, but Alvarez had bet he could find the entrance.

  The plan was all in place; Burns just hoped it all went accordingly. Failure wasn’t an option, not just for the survival of the Dominion, or the people trapped on the planet, but also because he genuinely wanted as many of his team members to survive as possible.

  The Vanquisher suddenly rolled to a stop with the characteristic hissing and popping of its dual engines. A sudden spur of butterflies fluttered throughout Burns stomach. They’d reached the desolate, icy base of Fort Ledger—this was it.

  He pulled the algorithm cartridge out of his pocket and looked down at it. He knew what was inside might end up pulling him to shreds, but he had no time for deliberation. At any minute, the Collective was going to notice the congregation of Dominion soldiers at the base of their fort and open fire.

  “Time for payback, sir,” Brosi murmured. Burns looked up at the man.

  “Right,” he exhaled. Brosi always knew how to pump him up. Resolute once again, he replaced the “safe” cartridge with the fully loaded one.

  Immediately, the red display took form, only it was different than before. It had quite a few more functions. It wasn’t intimidating though—it was comforting. This was power in its most intuitive form, and power was exactly what they needed right now.

  Opening the back crew door, Burns jumped out of the Vanquisher and into the shining gleam of the wastes. Eyes adjusting, he continued to walk around the vehicle in order to get a glance at the Fort with his own eyes. Its large walls slowly started to show themselves.

  “By the Overlord’s might,” he exclaimed as it came fully into view.

  Of all the stories he’d heard, he’d never quite expected Fort Ledger to look this indomitable—and he’d heard plenty of stories.

  Its outer walls must have been forty or fifty feet high, all lined with placement positions for turrets. The main gate was just one slab of drab metal, and it looked to be reinforced with a material that would give his own armor a run for its money. Even the ascent up to the walls looked treacherous—the only path being an icy bridge that sat atop a deep crevasse. This crevasse wrapped all around the outside of the Fort like some sort of natural moat. Its only stopping point was the hilly mountains that sat just behind the Fort. You couldn’t send an entire army through those mountains, and it didn’t look like you could send one over the fragile bridge either. This really was a feat of military ingenuity, and here he was with a half-baked plan on how to infiltrate it with a couple ragtag ex-soldiers.

  For a second, Burns considered rethinking his plan and taking a moment to better strategize. Then he remembered the hostages being kept inside the Fort. He wondered how many days they had before their execution—an execution that would be streamed over the net to all Dominion worlds as a “message.” It was inhumane and wrong.

  The Fort might be indomitable, but he had to break it. He had no other choice.

  “Ready, boss?” Shamera asked as she stepped up from behind and handed him a bag full of explosives. “You might need these for our exit,” she told him, slinging a rifle over her shoulder. He grabbed the explosives and clipped them onto his belt.

  “Thanks,” he acknowledged back to her and then turned as the Survivors began to congregate behind him.

  “Any words before we go?” Burns asked.

  “For Rhett!” Brosi exclaimed.

  “For Silverset!” Alvarez shouted, handing a tattered white flag to Burns.

  Burns looked at the blue emblem that was emblazoned on it. Each of its four diverging points represented the different allegiances Silverset had had over the years, all leading to the middle which represented the Dominion. This was Silverset’s planetary flag. Burns felt an affinity to it. It not only represented Silverset but also his team and the armor they were wearing. Much like Silverset, they’d all gone different ways but they were here now, united under a common goal. He grabbed the flag and held it above his head as it waved in the wind.

  For Evelyn, he thought to himself as he struck the flag into the icy ground. The soldiers cheered as Alvarez motioned, and the tank fired off the first, booming shot.

  That was Burns’ cue. He loaded his weapons and then charged forward up the icy hill. The Survivors followed along behind him; they were his backup. He was protected by the armor, but they were not. Yet they followed him anyway—right into the jaws of death.

  Thump, thump, thump. The sound emanated from just behind the Fort’s walls. Mortars. Burns knew it had to be mortars.

  After only a few seconds, the ground started to rattle as the mortars hit and sent their explosive debris outward. Burns could hear the screams of men who didn’t quite make it through.

  Still, he could see through his helmet cameras that several had survived. That was good, but they were still very far out. He’d need to do better if anyone was to make it to that gate.

  Mercilessly, the thumps rang out again as the ULC sent more mortars down on the men. Burns turned around and began to motion for the Survivors to disperse.

  “Spread out!” he yelled at them, hoping the gaps in their formation would result in less casualties. The mortars hit about five seconds after they were launched, but fewer men were lost this time. The strategy worked.

  Flicking his eyes to the side, Burns opened the speed function of his armor. It was time to unveil one of his own tricks.

  Activating the function with a quick wink, he felt his legs being pushed harder and harder as he gained speed. He lowered his head and tried to focus on keeping everything stable; he was in dangerous territory now. One misstep and he might be torn in two.

  Looking up as he gained confidence, he noticed that the Collective was shoving turrets in the cuts at the top of the wall. As they began firing, they did a number on Burns’ men.

  He lowered his head again and tried to run faster. He wasn’t in range to hit the turret gunners, but he needed to be. The Survivors needed suppressing fire as soon as possible.

  Suddenly, however, one of the turret gunners jerked and fell forward off the wall.

  Shamera! Burns thought to himself as another of the gunners was hit.

  The sniper support had arrived and, damn, she was good.

  With the turret gunners now focused on ulterior issues, the remaining Survivors continued to push up the icy hill. They’d fallen behind Burns, who was proceeding at amazing speeds.

  Burns looked up as he quickly approached the dauntingly tall outer wall, and its large shadow cascaded ominously over him. He’d thought it’d looked tall from afar, but up close it seemed to rise into the heavens. He needed to scale it and quick. The unlock button for the gate would be on the other side, and the sooner they got in, the sooner they’d be done.

  Flicking his eyes to the bottom of his helmet’s display, he opened up the vertical assistance function. His thrusters wouldn’t have enough fuel to reach the top of the wall, but a leap beforehand could assist. He blinked at this section of his display and waited as the vertical assist charged. It took only a few seconds. Fully charged, it emanated a small beeping sound. Timing it just right, Burns stopped, turned off his speed function, and launched the vertical assist.

  Pushing off the ground at a great velocity, the armor catapulted Burns nearly eight feet in the air. It was impressive, but hardly enough to conquer the intimidating forty feet of wall. Still r
esolute, Burns waited until he’d reach the highest point of the jump and then flicked the button on his right gauntlet, activating his thrusters and soaring him even farther.

  He jetted upwards, conquering dozens of feet at a time, but as he neared the top of the wall, he began to run out of fuel.

  Indeed, the thrusters soon cut out. He reached a hand forward as quickly as possible and managed to grab onto the edge of the wall. He was gripping with only his fingers, but he’d reached the top.

  Mustering all of his strength, he pulled up his loose hand and grabbed on. Now with two hands firmly gripping the edge, he began to pull himself up.

  As his face crossed the plane, he was greeted by the fearsome, skulled faceplate of a ULC militant. The militant, terrified of the man crawling over the top of a forty-foot wall, fired his rifle uncontrollably.

  This chaos forced Burns to duck down again, which nearly caused him to lose grip entirely. Gaining as best of a grip as he could, while still under the oppression of rifle fire, he tried to hang on. His armor was good, but it couldn’t survive a fall from heights like this.

  “Uh, a little help here, Sham!” he grunted, not feeling like the militant was going to relent—at least not before he’d lost grip.

  A bullet quickly zipped only inches from his head, and the militant stopped firing. Burns let out a sigh.

  “Thanks,” he grumbled.

  “Right,” she replied, “and next time skip the nickname!”

  Burns smirked a little. Shamera had always been a closed book, so this insight into her personality was enlightening. She hated pet names. He’d have to make sure to come up with a few more.

  As he regained his grip, Burns pulled himself up and over the edge of the wall and onto the top platform. He’d expected to encounter some trouble, but it seemed like the artillery had done a good job.

  Making his way over to the other side of the wall, Burns readied his rappelling ropes. As he did, he looked down into the militarized city below. It looked like a miniature Altias. All of the other structures on Silverset retained the local look from before Dominion annexation, but the Fort had clearly been redecorated. Lots of composite metal and lots of sharp corners. In recompense for this forced assimilation, the place was trashed by the ULC. Buildings were busted or had graffiti on them, and most of the streets had weapons or vehicles scattered about. He shook his head. The United Liberty Collective really was a plague.

  Wrapping the rope around a handrail, Burns clipped it onto itself and then leaped onto the edge. He let out a deep breath, turned his back on the city, and jumped off.

  The descent was fast and cold but not treacherous. The rope caught his every stop, and he successfully pushed himself closer and closer to the Fort’s tarmac.

  Touching down, he clipped off the rope and looked to his side. He located the gate release lever. It was only a couple dozen feet from his current position.

  He quickly made his way over to the lever, but about halfway, he was ambushed by more militants arriving on the scene.

  Burns removed a submachine gun and let them have it, which kept them at bay long enough for him to reach the lever. The gate screeched and hollered as it opened.

  He removed his other submachine gun and sent a fury of bullets toward the congregation of militants firing in front of him. He wouldn’t get them all, but he just had to buy time for his reinforcements.

  It took a few minutes, but soon he heard them clambering up the hill from behind.

  “It’s the Colonel! He did it!” A soldier yelled as the Survivors poured into the opening of the Fort and gave Burns the backup he needed.

  The militants who’d held him up pulled back and called for reinforcements of their own. The Survivors took cover and held the position at the entryway of the gate.

  It seemed that good old Dominion training was still superior to whatever these bushwhackers were being taught.

  Seeing that the situation was under control, Burns switched his mind from combat mode and into command mode.

  “Brosi, you’re up,” he exclaimed into the comms as he motioned down the hill toward the man.

  “Roger!” Brosi answered, and the connection shut off. Burns then headed toward the action, flicking out the spent magazines in his SMGs and replacing them. Several of the armored Vanquishers had made their way into the Fort now and were acting as moveable barricades for the soldiers.

  Burns continued to call out orders. “Shamera, bad guys on the wall are dust. Move up and cover us,” he ordered as he reached the front line and began his firing again.

  “Moving!” she replied.

  The Collective may receive reinforcements, but, with her support, Burns knew the few remaining Survivors stood a fighting chance. They only had to hold this position until Brosi arrived. Then they could move on to rescue the hostages.

  However, the Collective proved to be more cunning than Burns had originally thought. Instead of a few dozen more men, they pulled up with a Vanquisher of their own and began firing on the Survivors with a high-caliber machine gun mounted on the top. Even Burns was worried that his armor wouldn’t be able to take rounds from the weapon.

  “Take cover!” he ordered the men as they crouched down to avoid the onslaught. This allowed the militants to gain ground and better defensive positions. Still crouching for cover, Burns shook his head.

  Where are you, Brosi? he wondered to himself as he stood and fired off a few quick shots at the advancing militants. It wasn’t enough to completely eradicate them, and soon he was taking hits from the machine gun.

  The rounds clanked off his armor, and he was hopeless to stop it.

  Then, just as all seemed lost, the enemy Vanquisher erupted into a storm of furious, orange flames.

  Burns looked back and saw Brosi’s own Vanquisher come screeching to a stop. Lieutenant Alvarez peered out the top with a rocket launcher in hand.

  The Survivors rallied and pressed forward, pushing back the advancing militants to their original position.

  Burns approached the newly arrived Vanquisher as Brosi climbed down the driver’s side stairs.

  “Ready for phase two, sir,” he notified.

  “You think you can get it offline?” Burns asked.

  “I have no other option,” Brosi mentioned. Burns gave him a nod as he turned and pointed to a few of the Survivors he knew. “Simon, Ordai, Fodor—you’re on Brosi. Make sure he makes it to the controls and make sure the cannon gets shut off. Do what’s necessary soldiers!” They gave him an affirmative nod and then pulled back to Brosi’s position.

  Burns looked over at the man once more. “End this, David,” he said with sincerity. Brosi nodded back and then turned and headed off with his squad. Burns looked back at the embattled militants. They hadn’t noticed Brosi—not yet.

  Walking back to the action, Burns looked up and saw the glass dome of the observatory, which peered over everything else. Alvarez had said that that was where the controls would be. Burns just hoped Brosi could get the job done without Rhett at his side.

  Shaking off the thoughts, he returned focus to the mission at present.

  Proceeding to the front lines, he greeted Alvarez, who’d now picked up an assault rifle and joined the others in the fight.

  “Let’s push on,” Burns ordered the man, motioning his hand forward. Not only did they have to get to the hostages, but they also needed to keep the Collective focused on them. The moment they could stop and think was the moment Brosi’s mission was compromised.

  Alvarez gave a non-nonchalant salute back, and slowly the men started rising from their embattled positions.

  With unstoppable determination, they pressed forward. Some were shot down, but the ULC was still taking far more casualties.

  It only took a few minutes, but eventually the last few packed up and began to run away. It was pitifully futile, as they were efficiently picked off by Burns’ sniper support.

  “In position,” Shamera�
�s voice echoed through the comms.

  Burns gave a thumbs-up in acknowledgment. As he looked back, he saw the glint of her scope atop the wall.

  “Copy. Cover our advance,” he told her as he and the Survivors began to walk through the carnage they’d just wrought.

  Dozens of ULC militants lay dead, and the shell of a burning Vanquisher sent billows of black smoke into the sky. Yet, it wasn’t over. This fort could hold hundreds of men—they’d only seen the tip of the iceberg. They had to continue forward. They had to get those hostages out.

  FREEDOM

  “The hostages are kept in the arms warehouse,” Alvarez said. Burns looked over at him.

  “You sure?” he asked. The brawny man bowed his head decisively.

  “Positive. I had a few escapees who told me so.” Content with that answer, Burns topped off his weapons and then motioned to the others.

  “You heard him, let’s make our way to that warehouse,” he commanded. They nodded back and followed behind.

  Burns turned to Alvarez. “Lead the way,” he ordered, trusting the guidance of a stationed officer over his own shaky understanding of the city layout. Alvarez nodded back and took point.

  Starting off, the group briskly made their way through the decaying city, not wanting to risk the hostages being executed as retribution for the assault.

  Covering the rear, Burns roughly took count of casualties. Only ten of the Survivors remained. They’d taken a hit from the original forty, but the mission was almost over. They just had to free the hostages and make it to their exit. The hard parts were over.

  Continuing through the derelict ghost town, Burns was appalled.

  This had once been the hub of the planet, but it’d been beaten and bruised. It really showed why, even if they got control, the ULC would never hold territory for long. They ran on hatred and had no plan for the future. No governance—just cruelty. They couldn’t expect a civilian population to prosper under them, not a population as large as the Dominion’s.