Read Online Blood Relative by James Swallow - Free Book Online
Authors: James Swallow
Tags: Science-Fiction
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malignant growth on the left side, just under the base of the skull. He hesitated; GIs knew their own physiology as well as any corpsman - there were no medics in the GI platoons, but every one of them had the knowledge to repair even the most serious of wounds and the surgical skill to operate on one another. It was a necessary talent, and along with all his fellow soldiers, Rogue had been trained to use a las-scalpel to open the cerebellum of a dying compatriot and recover the biochip that lay wired into the rubbery meat of a GI cortex. The lump on Zero's neck was in exactly that spot, something flat and bony just beneath the skin.
Helm's words in the cave returned to him. This was a trap; Zero was some sort of Trojan horse, part of a complex scheme to capture the Rogue Trooper. He didn't want to believe that.
Zero turned over and glanced around, meeting Rogue's gaze. "Let's go."
Rogue searched the other trooper's blank yellow eyes for a moment, looking for the merest hint of deception; he found nothing.
"Rogue?" said Helm. "Tide's at the maximum now. The flood's gonna start ebbing from this point onward."
The GI turned away and activated the single-use chemical squirt-jet motor in the raft's keel. "We're going." The inflatable surged forward at high speed, cutting a path into the drowning city. He dropped into a low prone position along the line of the boat and propped Gunnar on the bow. "Bagman, keep a watch on my six."
"Check," came the reply from the biochip. It was only one word, but after so long in each other's company, Rogue knew that Bagman had instantly understood the meaning of the order. If Zero suddenly turned on him, he'd be warned; but what he would do if that happened, he wasn't really sure.
Trager couldn't feel anything below his waist. He slapped at the inert flesh of his legs, but it was like touching raw, dead meat. He swore an oath that dated back to the first Great War and spat. The Brigadier fumbled at a communicator and shouted into it. "The Genetik Infantryman has broken out... There are two! Intercept and terminate them both!"
He listened for a confirmation of his order, but only static replied. Trager discarded the unit and tried to pull himself up. Nearby, the broken chassis of the android reporter was stuttering to itself, some fractured piece of programming repeating a string of words over and over. The simulant was stuttering and singing in a sultry, honeyed synth, dragging itself across the floor to where one of its perfectly-proportioned arms was lying, severed by las-fire in the breakout. "Fuh. Fuh. Falling apart again," she chimed, "Wh-what am I to do?"
Trager's nerve broke. "Be silent, you clockwork moron!" He attempted to push himself off the floor and as his hands touched the ferrocrete he felt a building vibration there, resonating into his bones. "Verkammt..." The Nort officer slid his bulk to the hatch and slammed the heel of his hand on the lock control.
The door juddered open, and in that moment he realised that he had killed himself; the rumbling in the floor was the rush of floodwater thudding against the corridor walls outside. Brigadier Trager screamed as a wall of acid swamped the chamber, submerging him, the robot and the dead troopers in stinking yellow water. Trager's lungs filled with burning, corrosive sulphates, drowning him in the milky fluids as DeeTrick's stammering final performance sang him into oblivion.
"Ferris."
The pilot jerked as the voice growled in his headset. He'd felt the rumble as the floods blew open the roadways just minutes earlier and with growing trepidation Ferris had watched the waters lapping around the landing legs of the strato-shuttle. He was convinced that the GI had done something wrong and got himself killed, and for the fourth time in as many minutes he'd been thinking of cutting his losses and leaving. "Whoa, you made it?"
"We're coming to you. Get the ship warmed up and ready to lift." There was a crackling sound in
Helm's words in the cave returned to him. This was a trap; Zero was some sort of Trojan horse, part of a complex scheme to capture the Rogue Trooper. He didn't want to believe that.
Zero turned over and glanced around, meeting Rogue's gaze. "Let's go."
Rogue searched the other trooper's blank yellow eyes for a moment, looking for the merest hint of deception; he found nothing.
"Rogue?" said Helm. "Tide's at the maximum now. The flood's gonna start ebbing from this point onward."
The GI turned away and activated the single-use chemical squirt-jet motor in the raft's keel. "We're going." The inflatable surged forward at high speed, cutting a path into the drowning city. He dropped into a low prone position along the line of the boat and propped Gunnar on the bow. "Bagman, keep a watch on my six."
"Check," came the reply from the biochip. It was only one word, but after so long in each other's company, Rogue knew that Bagman had instantly understood the meaning of the order. If Zero suddenly turned on him, he'd be warned; but what he would do if that happened, he wasn't really sure.
Trager couldn't feel anything below his waist. He slapped at the inert flesh of his legs, but it was like touching raw, dead meat. He swore an oath that dated back to the first Great War and spat. The Brigadier fumbled at a communicator and shouted into it. "The Genetik Infantryman has broken out... There are two! Intercept and terminate them both!"
He listened for a confirmation of his order, but only static replied. Trager discarded the unit and tried to pull himself up. Nearby, the broken chassis of the android reporter was stuttering to itself, some fractured piece of programming repeating a string of words over and over. The simulant was stuttering and singing in a sultry, honeyed synth, dragging itself across the floor to where one of its perfectly-proportioned arms was lying, severed by las-fire in the breakout. "Fuh. Fuh. Falling apart again," she chimed, "Wh-what am I to do?"
Trager's nerve broke. "Be silent, you clockwork moron!" He attempted to push himself off the floor and as his hands touched the ferrocrete he felt a building vibration there, resonating into his bones. "Verkammt..." The Nort officer slid his bulk to the hatch and slammed the heel of his hand on the lock control.
The door juddered open, and in that moment he realised that he had killed himself; the rumbling in the floor was the rush of floodwater thudding against the corridor walls outside. Brigadier Trager screamed as a wall of acid swamped the chamber, submerging him, the robot and the dead troopers in stinking yellow water. Trager's lungs filled with burning, corrosive sulphates, drowning him in the milky fluids as DeeTrick's stammering final performance sang him into oblivion.
"Ferris."
The pilot jerked as the voice growled in his headset. He'd felt the rumble as the floods blew open the roadways just minutes earlier and with growing trepidation Ferris had watched the waters lapping around the landing legs of the strato-shuttle. He was convinced that the GI had done something wrong and got himself killed, and for the fourth time in as many minutes he'd been thinking of cutting his losses and leaving. "Whoa, you made it?"
"We're coming to you. Get the ship warmed up and ready to lift." There was a crackling sound in
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