Chương 112: Chapter 111 - Hexighast

The first thing that hit Cole, even before the portal spit him out, was the smell. A violent cocktail of sea brine, burnt oil, and hot metal made his sinuses burn like the worst bottom shelf hairspray vodka. By the time his boots hit metal decking, he was coughing up worse than his first trip through the confidence chamber in Basic, tears and snot spilling down his face as he gagged. A sturdy pair of hands grabbed him and kept him upright.

"Easy, soldier. Breathe. You get used to it."" Fucking hell," muttered Howie somewhere behind him. He caught a whiff of Roxy's body soap as she walked close to him, and then a surge of relief as she put her hand on his arm and burned one of her Malleable Mender charges. He cleared his eyes and blinked away the tears from the caustic environment.

"Thanks, Roxy," he said.

"Whatever, pussy," she teased, winking. Her natural Resilience must have been high enough to shrug off the noxious air.

"Hey, I'm still dying over here," gasped Howie.

"Deal with it," said Roxy as she moved to expend another charge on Nona, who had the lowest Resilience on the team. Behind them, Alexa was unfolding her mechanical familiar. She was early 20's in terms of level and handling the caustic air with just a little coughing and some watery eyes. She looked back at Cole and gave him the okay sign as her familiar stretched its mechanical joints.

Cole turned to the man that had helped him and offered his hand, eying the gold oak leaves on his collar and the name tape that had Beauregard stitched into it. He had a respirator secured over his lower face.

"Thanks, Major. You out of Camp David?"

"That's right," he said.

"Welcome to Camp Hamilton. You're Colton?" Cole nodded.

"Callsign Airborne for commo." He took a moment to look around as the rest of their people came through. They were on some sort of off-shore oil derrick a few kilometers from land. On the level above, a drone launched off a magnetic rail, flying toward the island of worn down and war-torn skyscrapers to the north. Cole could see a few dozen personnel working, moving equipment, prepping more unmanned aircraft, and manning defensive positions with Browning M2 machine guns. Portable structures studded the platform.

It looked like the Army had co-opted the structures the Hexighast locals already built, and he recognized two other DOR Knockers, attuned Curahee washouts, providing attuned security for the non-attuned personnel. Above that, the source of the acrid fumes seemed to be a flare tower, belching black smoke as it burned whatever fumes were coming from the well beneath the drilling derrick.

"This many people in one place has gotta be above the swarm threshold," said Cole.

"Naw," said Howie.

"Swarm threshold doesn't count non-attuned individuals, even in a Lewis Field. They're landscape, as far as Hextant is probably concerned." Major Beauregard nodded.

"But it is counting you and your team, so point of order numero uno is getting you on your way before the robots come sniffing around en masse. Sorry you won't get to enjoy our hospitality, MREs, or scenic views.

"Don't forget fresh mountain air," said Cole.

"Now you're getting it," said Major Beauregard. Even with his mouth covered by a respirator, the corners of his eyes creased in the way of a man used to the laughter borne from suffering alongside his troops. Cole liked him immediately. The boat crews themselves were currently hurling their guts out over the railing, at least those who had no experience with otherworld travel. Chief Dabir seemed to be managing, though he was looking a bit green about the gills.

The boats themselves came through the portal, towed by a small propane-powered tractor. One of Beauregard's soldiers waved them over to what looked like a resupply elevator that could be lowered down to the ocean beneath. Chief Dabir came over, securing the clips of a respirator behind his neck and re-strapping his helmet. He saluted Major Beauregard and shook his hand.

"Major, my CO is feeling a bit under the weather at present," he said.

"How can we help?" Beauregard knife-handed toward the elevator.

"That lift will take your boats all the way down to the sea surface. Just need your people to get 'em prepped and ready to float. We're looking to launch as soon as your crews are feeling up to the task and we've got eyes in the sky to relay directions. We can go over the aerials in the meantime. Hextant hardly ever shoots down the drones, thank God, but there's some flying tangos in the city that must think they look tasty. I hope your boys are used to operating GPS-denied."

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Dabir whistled to his SWCC crews.

"Anyone functional, help with the boats. We're pushing off in fifteen mikes, whether you're still puking or not." A chorus of Aye Chief came back in various degrees of misery. Cole and Dabir followed Beauregard up a set of metal stairs and into one of the buildings, cutting off the drone of the generators. Sets of aerial photo printouts were spread across a steel table, and Beauregard snapped his fingers for one of the soldiers at a computer's attention. The sergeant pushed his chair back and joined them.

"Major," he said, then turned to Cole.

"Sir. And, umm…" he looked at the anchors on Dabir's collar with confusion. Cole smiled a little at that.

"Chief," said Dabir, smirking a little himself. The sergeant spread the printout over the table.

"Here it is, Hexighast City." Cole quirked an eyebrow.

"I thought the world was Hexighast."

"So did we, until we talked to the locals." He met Cole's eyes and shrugged.

"Army Intel. You know how it is."

"Hell of a thing for my S2 to be saying," added Beauregard, squeezing the sergeant's shoulders and shaking him around in a friendly way. Chief Dabir looked over the aerial photography stitched into a map of the city.

"These are more detailed than the one in the brief." He traced a finger up one of the channels.

"More water, too. We were supposed to drop Cole and his team off here, but it looks like we can get half a klick deeper into the city. What are we looking at?"

"A global flood. We've seen the waterline increase just in the few weeks I've been here. As if the fuckin' robots weren't enough. Almost feel sorry for the locals," said Beauregard.

"Penetrating deeper means more risk to your crews," said Cole. Dabir raised his eyes to meet Cole's.

"We ain't shy, son. We'll get you in as deep as the boats can ferry you. Best chance you've got. Your mission is our mission."

"Appreciate that mindset, Chief," said Cole.

"But once we're off, you still have to make it back out in good enough shape to extract us later." Dabir rubbed his chin.

"There is that. Alright. We won't know shit 'til we've got eyes on, so we take our planned route and if there's an audible, we'll adapt. At least compasses work, here." Cole scanned the rest of the overhead maps. With his enhancements, even committing a network of roads, bridges, causeways, and flooded streets to memory was possible. An intelligence multiplier might not have made him less of an idiot, but it had definitely sped up his own processing speed and memory.

The SWCC chief straightened and cracked his back.

"I'll check on those boats. We should be ready to launch soon. Just give the word, Mr. Airborne."

"Thanks, Chief," said Cole. He shook hands with the major and let himself out of the portable as Chief Dabir folded up the printout and stuffed it behind his plate carrier. Several of the personnel were standing at the railing toward the city, and Cole walked over to see what the fuss was about. He spotted Alexa leaning on the rail with a vape pen and her clockwork familiar idling at her side.

"What's up?" asked Cole. Alexa glanced over. The Kicker was a couple years older than Cole himself and bore the lines and scars to prove it. She waved her vape at the city.

"Someone is setting off fireworks," she said. Sure enough, across the water Cole could see flashes on the edge of the city, on one of the bridges connecting the various islands. Explosions. Someone was putting up a hell of a fight to keep someone else from crossing that bridge. Cole lifted his rifle and rested the barrel on the rail as several glossy membranes stood up from the receiver. Through the magnifying lenses, Cole could barely make out vague forms through the haze—just shadows, really. Two groups clashing.

One group of humans, some on foot with trucks and mounted guns and grenades. The other… well, much less human. Lumbering, mechanical movement, and unmistakably monstrous silhouettes betrayed their true nature.

"You fight anything robotic on otherworlds before?" asked Cole.

"Sure," said Alexa, exhaling.

"When I was taken. Golems and clockwork soldiers and possessed machines. That's where I picked up Archie," she said, nudging her familiar with the toe of her boot.

"Got my class just before I was rescued, you know. Not in Curahee."

"I didn't know," said Cole. He looked at the woman. Alexa brushed her short hair back behind her ears.

"Well, now you do. It ain't secret. Anyway, fighting robots is better than monsters in some ways. Worse in others. You always know when a monster is dead, you know? Machines in a Lewis Field… well, you break 'em apart and sometimes they just become smaller machines. Keep that in mind. Most of 'em are weak to electricity, but even more weak to magnetic fields." She tapped her rifle, which Cole, for the first time, noticed had no actual barrel.

"I picked this up a year ago and held onto it. Moriarty said it was trash-tier loot, but that's cause he'd never come to a world filled with robots he couldn't sweet talk."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Cole. He considered.

"His ability. The one that lets him sweet talk people so easy. He ever use that on other Kickers?"

"You asking me to rat out my old team lead, Airborne?" Cole exhaled.

"Nah. Forget I asked," he said. He was pretty sure he already knew the answer to that. On the bridge, the distant firefight dwindled. The locals advanced through the forest of abandoned cars, occasionally finishing off remnants of the machines they'd managed to repel—but not without losses. Between the rising seas and the endless hordes of automatons, how much time did this place have left? Cole pulled his rifle down and jerked his thumb back.

"Looks like the show's over. Come on, let's go knock down some tin soldiers."