Gears of War: The Slab (Gears of War 5)

  “It’s okay. You did fine.” Marcus frowned at her, more inspection than disapproval, but kept looking over his shoulder. The gunfire she’d heard was real, all right. “We’ve got to RV with Hoffman now on the Treasury roof. Stick close to me and keep moving.”

  “We’re pulling out?”

  “Pulling back.” She could see Dom, Tai, and Jace covering the outer door. “We’re not beaten yet. Come on.”

  Anya decided there and then that she would never be without a sidearm again. Damn it, if she got out of this alive she’d learn to use a Lancer properly, too. She scuttled behind Marcus, wondering if the CBs on her back would be enough to stop a round, and was suddenly plunged into his world, his daily reality, in a way she’d never been before.

  As soon as they emerged into the gloom of the next lobby they came under fire. The noise was deafening. The muzzle flash blinded her for a moment before Marcus shoved her behind the nearest pallet of bills and pinned her there with his bodyweight while he returned fire.

  Anya had always experienced combat over the radio or via a bot’s video feed. Now she was inhaling it, tasting it, feeling it, smelling it: sweat, oil, cordite. And Dom—kind, gentle Dom—was yelling his head off as his chainsaw revved and screamed. “Yeah, bitch, fucking payback time, huh?” But it wasn’t the Lancer’s saw screaming. It was a Locust drone on the receiving end of it. This was another world, violent and primal. She wasn’t part of it, merely trapped in it. It was all happening over her head as if she wasn’t there.

  “You clear?”

  “Clear!”

  “Yeah, all down.”

  “Thin out, Jack. Off you go.”

  “Goddamn, Jace, move!”

  It could have been ten seconds or ten minutes—Anya had no way of telling. Her own breath sounded like a locomotive, almost too loud to bear. Then the firing stopped. Marcus grabbed her arm and yanked her upright so hard that it hurt and she found herself running just to recover her balance. Doors crashed open ahead of her and bright light hurt her eyes. They were in the second floor corridor that led to the roof terraces and the Treasury building, a walkway that was all windows on the street side. Her shoes crunched on broken glass. Marcus was shielding her from the window side, blocking her bodily, so she only caught a glimpse of what was down there. But it was enough. A Brumak’s head bobbed slowly above a tide of drones flooding into the city.

  “Oh God,” she said.

  “It’s okay. Just keep moving.” Marcus caught her arm again. “Don’t look.”

  Anya found her legs were taking care of the situation for her. She let them. Somewhere ahead, Tai let out one of his roaring tribal cries that merged with the chainsaw and the rattle of automatic fire. She was now so deafened by the noise—or numbed by adrenaline—that she couldn’t tell where the sound was coming from. Marcus pulled her along again and she tripped over a dead grub, cut in two from shoulder to hip in a ragged slice. Then cool air hit her face. She realized they were now on an open balcony. She was looking out across Ephyra at roof height. Was she just deafened or was it really that quiet? Raven engines and the sporadic whomp of artillery faded in and black smoke bloomed out of instant fireballs as shells hit their targets.

  Marcus stood panting, pressing his earpiece, the fingers on his other hand dug deep in her arm as if he didn’t trust her to stay alive if he let go. “Fenix to Hoffman—we’ve got Lieutenant Stroud. What’s your position?”

  “Hoffman receiving. I’ve run into some shit. Just get to the Raven. I’ll be there.”

  “Reavers,” Jace yelled. “Everybody down.”

  Anya should have dropped, but she didn’t. She was transfixed by the incoming Raven. Maybe the pilot hadn’t spotted the Reaver or maybe the Raven just wasn’t fast enough, but one moment the familiar black shape was there and the next it was a ball of flame and spinning rotors. That was the last she saw. She was suddenly flat on her back, winded by Marcus crashing down on top of her as something flat and black spun overhead so close that she felt the draft.

  “Shit, that was Daniels,” Dom said. “Goddamn it, he’s gone—where’s the frigging Hammer team? What the hell’s happened to them?”

  “Goddamn it, have we lost them too?” Marcus got to his feet and held out his hand to pull Anya up like any other Gear. “Sorry. Better a few bruises than getting your head sliced off.”

  Her elbow hurt like hell but she gritted her teeth rather than give in to it. When she stood up, she saw a section of fuselage embedded like a blade in the wall ten meters away. The Reaver was gone. Daniels, and his crew chief, Julia Lawry: Anya knew all the Raven crews by voice if not in person. They were dead and all she could do was put that numb horror to one side and get on with the job. It wasn’t even conscious. It was a reflex now. Marcus leaned over the balustrade as Tai and Jace kept an eye out for more Reavers, Lancers raised.

  “There’s the Hammer,” he said. “Shit.”

  Anya looked down onto the flat roof below. She thought it was just a pile of sandbags at first until her brain made sense of the mess and she realized it was the remains of two Gears. The targeting laser, the handheld device they used to paint targets for the Hammer of Dawn satellites, lay a few meters away. The Hammer net was failing a sat at a time after ten years without maintenance but it still packed a punch, and the handheld lasers were too precious now to leave behind. Marcus clambered over the balustrade and hung there for a moment, looking as if he was calculating the drop.

  “We’re going to need that Hammer if we want the evac Raven to land,” he said, and let go.

  He landed with a thud, stood over the dead Gears for a second before taking their COG tags, then picked up the laser and something next to it that he jammed into his belt pouch. Climbing back up to the balcony was a lot harder. He managed to get a grip on the balustrade, boots jammed into holes in the brickwork below. Dom and Jace hauled him in.

  He examined the laser and tapped his belt, indicating a pouch. “I need to reattach the front targeting optic,” he said, steering Anya by her elbow. “Come on. Keep moving.”

  The pull-out had begun. Anya could see more Ravens lifting off, some of them rising from the smoke and flames below, packed solid with Gears. By the time they reached the Treasury roof she could hear a Raven close by and realized one was already waiting on the far side in the cover of the radio mast, rotors turning, but there was no sign of Hoffman. Anya had to walk around the edge of the roof to even see the Raven. The pilot, Strachan, looked up and tapped his watch theatrically through the cockpit window. She gave him a shrug and indicated wait with both forefingers before ducking back along the roof.

  “Where’s the Colonel?” Anya eased the makeshift rucksack off her shoulders and rubbed her bruised elbow. It was starting to throb. “Control to Hoffman—we’re at the RV point. Strachan’s here. Where are you?”

  All she got for a long time was the crackle and hiss of interference. Then he responded.

  “Right below you, Bravo. Wait one.”

  Jace leaned over to look. “Shit, the old man’s a mess.”

  “What?” Anya craned her neck to look. “Sir?”

  “Go on.” Marcus jerked his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the radio mast and the sound of the helicopter’s engine. “Dom, Tai, Jace—you guys buckle in. We’ll wait for Hoffman.”

  “I heard that,” Hoffman said. He sounded as if he was running up stairs, catching his breath. Dom and the others jogged away and disappeared behind the base of the mast. “Mess my ass. Just shrapnel. Where’s the Hammer team, Anya?”

  “They didn’t make it, sir, but we’ve got the targeting laser.”

  “Goddamn.” The puffing stopped for a moment. “Well, change of plan, then. Chancery Bridge. Tomas needs that damn laser more than we do. They’re going to lose the bridge. We’re going to have to blow it.”

  Anya could hear Hoffman’s boots now. The elevator winch room door swung open and he walked across the roof, none too steady. His right sleeve was shredded and dark w
ith blood.

  “You better get that fixed, Colonel,” Marcus said.

  “It’s nothing. Don’t fuss over me.” Hoffman made a bee line for Anya. Her earpiece was stuttering and buzzing as the radio net struggled with the torrent of voice traffic. “Just get that targeting laser to Tomas at Chancery Bridge. Stroud, call in KR-Eight-Zero and get out of here.”

  “Sir—”

  Hoffman was a gentleman despite the foul temper and language to match. “And I need you to reestablish CIC in Jacinto, fast as you can, Lieutenant. Do it.”

  “You better go too, Colonel,” Marcus said.

  “Fenix, just do as you’re goddamn told for once, will you? I’m coming to Chancery with you.”

  “Look, Colonel—”

  “You look, Sergeant.”

  Anya switched channels and pressed her earpiece. “KR-Eight-Zero, this is Control, come in. Eight-Zero, evac required from the Treasury roof, come in.” She was waiting for Gettner to respond when another voice suddenly cut through the static and distracted her.

  “Control, this is Adam Fenix. Control—I need to contact Marcus, Marcus Fenix—”

  “Say again?” She put her hands over her ears to drown out the noise behind her and walked a few meters away. “This is Control. Say again?”

  Anya didn’t catch the rest of the conversation between Marcus and Hoffman. She was too distracted by hearing Adam Fenix. He never used the radio net. She wasn’t even sure how he managed it, but he could access pretty well anything as Director of the DRA.

  “Adam?” She forgot RT procedure for a moment. “It’s Anya. Where are you?”

  “Anya, I’m at Haldane.” Adam’s voice was breaking up. “The Locust have broken through in East Barricade. Tell Marcus I’m sorry. Is he there? I need to say goodbye to him.”

  “Adam, hang on.” Goodbye? Anya’s gut lurched. She turned back to Hoffman and held up one hand for silence. “Sorry, sir—Marcus, you’re going to want to hear this. It’s your father. The Locust are near the house and he called in to say … goodbye. He says he’s sorry. He says—” She paused. “Adam? Professor? Come in, Professor … damn, I’ve lost him.”

  Hoffman froze. Marcus’s expression went blank. It was as if everything else had ceased to exist: no Locust assault, no bridge, no evacuation. He turned to Anya.

  “I’ve got to get him out of there,” he said quietly, as if Hoffman wasn’t there either.

  Hoffman looked impatient, lips compressed into a line, nothing more. “Are you going deaf, Fenix? I said get that targeting laser to Chancery.”

  “I’m not leaving my father to die. I’ve got to get him out first.”

  There was no eye contact, nothing at all. Marcus was staring past Anya, suddenly focused on something she couldn’t see. The shelling and the Raven seemed forgotten. Hoffman looked more baffled than angry. Marcus had never refused an order in his life. Anya stared, thinking she’d misheard.

  Hoffman gestured in the direction of the Raven. “Get your ass on that bird, Sergeant,” he snapped. “And that’s a goddamn order. Your father’s not the only man who’s in trouble—there’s a whole brigade of Gears in deeper shit than he is.”

  Anya didn’t even see how it happened. It was too fast. In a heartbeat, the two men were nose to nose and she was looking at a Marcus she didn’t know. Hoffman was a big man, but Marcus loomed over him.

  “I’ve put myself on the line every day since I was eighteen years old,” he growled, so low that Anya could hardly hear him. “Followed every order. Even the half-assed ones. But now I’m going to save my father. So with all due respect, fuck you, sir.”

  “Fenix, we need to blow that fucking bridge.” Hoffman paused for a breath as if Marcus was just in need of a good talking-to and everything would snap back to normal. Anya thought that too. “Do it, or I’ll see you court-martialed, hero or no goddamn hero.”

  Marcus turned away and started walking. “Fine. You do that, Colonel.”

  Hoffman would have punched out anyone else by now. But Marcus—he thought the world of him. That had to hurt. Hoffman went after him, grabbed his shoulder, and pulled him around.

  “Fenix, your father’s been sitting on his ass for the whole damn war, inventing all kinds of useless shit, and he hasn’t made so much as a goddamn dent in the Locust. He’s not worth the life of one honest fighting Gear. He’s certainly not worth yours.”

  It wasn’t even a shouting match. It was more shock, disbelief, an attempt at reasoning, but this was another Marcus, an instant stranger. When it came to his father, he was one big raw nerve. He didn’t even blink. He drew back his fist and landed a right hook on Hoffman, knocking him flat. The colonel hit the concrete with a crack and lay groaning.

  Oh my God. This isn’t happening. This just isn’t happening.

  Anya rushed to Hoffman and knelt to lift his head. “Marcus! For God’s sake, are you insane? What are you doing?” Hoffman struggled to get up, murmuring, “Bastard … bastard …” Anya managed to prop him up against her knee. Marcus stared at Hoffman, eyes wide as if he suddenly realized what he’d done, and for a moment Anya thought he was going to rush to help the colonel up and it would all be forgotten tomorrow, but he just turned and started striding away.

  Marcus didn’t look back. “Take him on the other Raven, Anya,” he called out.

  “Marcus? Marcus! You can’t just disobey an order.” But he wasn’t stopping. She needed him to stop right now. He

  had to. “Marcus! Get back here, and that’s an order. Are you damn well listening to me? What do you think you’re doing?”

  “My duty,” he said.

  Gettner cut in on the radio. “Eight-Zero to Control, you still need a ride?”

  Anya wasn’t one of life’s panickers. She was used to all hell breaking loose on the radio net and being the calm eye of the storm. But she froze for a moment, almost sick with dread at what would happen next, and it wasn’t a healthy fear of the Locust assault. Marcus had abandoned his duty in the middle of a battle. He might have fractured Hoffman’s skull. She almost ran after him, but common sense—or her mother’s voice, she wasn’t sure—shook her out of it and told her she needed to stick with Hoffman.

  Hoffman struggled onto his hands and knees, then tried to stand again. Somewhere behind the mast, an engine roared and Strachan’s Raven lifted clear, banking away almost instantly over the edge of the roof.

  “Easy, sir. Gettner’s inbound.” Anya grabbed Hoffman’s arm to steady him and found it still wet with blood. “We’ll get you sorted out.”

  His cap had gone flying. He managed to bend over to pick it up, and then pressed his earpiece. “Fenix! Fenix, you damn well listen to me, I order you to turn that bird around and get your motherfucking ass back here. Fenix? Answer me, goddamn you!” Marcus must have cut him off. Hoffman was cycling through channels, probably blindly, and even if the Raven pilots couldn’t hear him, a lot of Gear units could. Marcus’s crazy moment was public now. “Fenix? You get your ass to Chancery! I fucking need you there!”

  Eventually Hoffman’s arm dropped to his side and she thought he was going to collapse. His shoulders sagged for a moment.

  “Did he leave the laser? Where’s the goddamn laser?” He looked around, dazed. The carbine-sized device was still there on the floor. Anya didn’t know if Marcus had left it deliberately or if he’d simply lost sight of everything except his father. “Is he out of his fucking mind? Goddamn Fenix, of all people, Anya, he should—”

  Hoffman stopped dead, either fresh out of expletives or about to keel over. He struggled to pick up the targeting laser and stood looking at the sky in the direction of the Raven noise. Then he checked out the laser and starting spitting fury again.

  “It’s missing a goddamn optics piece.”

  “Sir, you need a casevac.”

  Hoffman didn’t move. “Later. Goddamn, where’s the targeting optic?”

  “Sir …”

  “I can’t save him now, Anya,” he said. He seemed almost l
ucid again. “And if he’s cost us Chancery Bridge, I’ll shoot him myself.”

  CHAPTER 4

  It’s almost too much to take in. A new species. A new sentient species, right under our noses all these years, sharing Sera with us. You realize what that means for a biologist? It’s an unimaginable fantasy. We all dream of some discovery that will change our understanding of the world, and—yes—put our name in the annals of science. I have no idea how to make this public. I have to get my evidence first and make sure it’s watertight before I tell anyone else and make a fool of myself. I’m going further into the tunnel today. I’m going to talk to them.

  (Last entry in the private journal of Dr. Elain Fenix, senior developmental embryologist, La Croix University: nine years before E-Day.)

  HALDANE HALL, EAST BARRICADE, JACINTO: SEVEN HOURS INTO THE LOCUST ASSAULT, FROST, 10 A.E.

  Adam Fenix knew he would survive the day, but he might as well have been dead already.

  The Locust were coming for him.

  He sat at the bench in his laboratory, staring at the dead radio handset in his palm. Oh God, Marcus. Maybe it’s better like this. You’ll never know what I did. He was waiting because he knew how his signal had been jammed, and who was jamming it. His briefcase was packed. He knew what he had to do.

  I shouldn’t have tried to call. It’ll only distress him. Why can’t I ever get it right?

  He could hear the shelling getting closer and the constant Raven sorties overhead. The Locust were gathering south of East Barricade, moving into position. He could see from the top floor.

  They could come and get me anytime now. They think I’m going to commit suicide rather than let them take me. They don’t want to spook me. They’re working out how to take me alive, because that’s something they’re not very adept at doing.

  But he wasn’t planning to shoot himself. Whether he carried out the research here or below Ephyra in the Locust caverns, his sole objective was to find a way of destroying the Lambent organism before it spread across the entire planet. Surrendering to Myrrah was the best option in a list of bad choices.