Unsung Heroes
Chapter Eighteen

“This might hurt,” Tola murmured, as he and Loralona shot along his grappling line toward the side of the volcano.

Bracing himself, Tola raised his feet and planted them against the rock to keep from smashing head-first. He and Loralona rocked to a stop, the line wobbling up and down.

“Huh. That worked better than I thought,” he said, surprised that he hadn’t broken anything.

“We’re clear,” Loralona agreed. “But how do we get back to the factory?” sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FindNʘᴠᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Tola found a purchase to hold onto and unhooked his grappling gun. Then he turned around, drew his unpowered plasma pistol, and fired the grappling gun through the trigger guard of the pistol. The cable and dart shot forth at a descending diagonal angle until it latched securely to the titasteel surface of the building’s roof, close to the sky walk.

“I see. You’re going to hold on to the pistol and use it as a zip-line,” Loralona said as he tied the grappling gun around a protruding rock.

“Bingo.”

“Why not retract the cable the same way that it pulled us up?”

“At this angle it would generate too much speed; it’s likely we’d hit the roof and fly right off the other side. Here, you can use the broken lasertorch to zip-line.” He handed her the device.

“All right. Age before beauty.”

Tola rolled his eyes. “I’m maybe three or four years older than you at most.”

She shrugged as if that made no change to her statement.

“All right, if you insist, Gorgeous.”

Taking a deep breath, Tola grabbed the butt of his pistol with one hand, and the barrel in the other. He pushed off from the cliff and hung on, sliding along the cable tethered through the pistol’s trigger guard. His speed picked up, carrying him across the chasm and back to the building he had just left. As Tola’s feet hit the roof he let go and tucked into a roll to absorb the impact.

Secure atop the facility, he looked back to see Loralona already halfway down the slope. Like Tola, she followed the momentum into a smooth roll to keep her from harm.

“That was smart thinking,” she admitted. “Though it’s too bad we can’t use the grappling gun anymore.”

“We can,” Tola replied. “I set it on a timer to automatically retract itself to the dart. Less than a minute—”

His handheld transceiver buzzed, cutting him off. Terrik was on the other end. After a few minutes they came up with a reckless plan to destroy the base and steal a shuttle out of the main hangar.

Loralona did not look impressed. “So Terrik cranked up the facility’s power to max, but unless we can clog the smokestacks it won’t destroy the base.”

“I’m working on that,” Tola answered, strapping his grappling gun to his belt and breaking into a jog across the sky walk.

“Oh, that’s reassuring,” Loralona said, jogging beside him.

Tola had been counting on using the factory’s own built-up pressure to destroy it. But without a way to seal the smokestacks he needed to come up with a different strategy.

Or did he?

Tola glanced up at the tall chimneys belching out chemicals at an alarming rate.

“We could still pull this off if we destroy three of the smokestacks,” he said suddenly. “The factory’s running at one-hundred percent capacity. The stress will still be too much for it to bear.”

“The plastic explosives!” Loralona said with a grin.

“Exactly! Properly placed, they should collapse the exhaust vent without creating any new ones.”

“I thought that would just fill the factory with gas—not actually destroy it.”

“This isn’t ordinary smoke or even steam being vented,” Tola informed her. “The chemicals used to create bio-engineered armor of this type have certain volatile properties—”

“Okay, that’s enough of science class for me, Mr. Geek.”

Tola couldn’t tell if the name was used affectionately or not.

“Here we are,” she said a moment later. Two of the chimneys towered over them, side by side, both made of adamanticrete. Up close they looked a lot bigger than they had from the ground . . .

“All right. Hand me a charge, please,” he said.

Loralona gave him one of the explosives. Tola used his grappling gun to ascend halfway up one of the stacks. Hanging like a fly on a wall, he set the charge on the side opposite the other stack. He wasn’t exactly sure it would work, but with a little luck the force of the explosion would hurl the debris of the first stack into the other and collapse them both.

Rather than take the time to zip-line down, Tola simply leapt off the smokestack. Seven meters down he hit the roof, tucking-and-rolling like before—only this time it hurt.

A lot.

There was a sting of pain, then all his sensation seemed muted. Hazily he saw Loralona kneeling down in front of him. Had he passed out?

No. Somehow, he was sure he hadn’t. But his left arm felt like it had been hit by a car.

“Tola! Tola, talk to me! Are you all right?” Loralona said, her voice betraying a hint of panic she hadn’t shown before.

Tola didn’t think his arm was broken; nor was the shoulder torn from its socket. Gingerly he raised it.

Just a sprain, he tried to say, but the wind was knocked out of him. Loralona misunderstood his failure to speak, her words taking on an even more desperate tone.

“Tola . . . no! I can’t do this without you,” Loralona murmured, her eyes a mixture of fear and sorrow.

At last oxygen returned to Tola’s lungs, and he gulped it down in quick, ragged breaths.

As Loralona started to smile, Tola muttered, “I didn’t think you cared, Gorgeous.”

Her expression turned to relief, and she didn’t even try to hide it. “I . . . well, maybe a little.”

Tola was surprised. Just as much by his own feelings as hers. Initially he had been extra-kind just to keep her from bailing, but now. . . .

Thoughts of his old friend Naomi flashed through his mind—a defensive reaction he had trained in himself over the past two years—reminding him of why he couldn’t trust anyone.

Or rather, why he shouldn’t trust anyone. Tola couldn’t deny the truth any longer; in the short time he had known them, he had come to trust Loralona, Terrik, and Dex—weakness or not. Not only that, but he felt drawn to Loralona. In many ways she reminded him of Naomi, and that was both part of the attraction and part of why he was trying to resist it.

Loralona smiled, and somehow it seemed more . . . natural than it had before. A mix of conflicting emotions surged through Tola’s heart. It was exhilarating and painful; empowering and crushing all at once.

Carefully, she helped him to his feet. His left arm hurt, but thankfully he could still use it. Together they made their way across the sky walk, getting out of range of the imminent blast.

“The honor’s all yours,” Tola said, nearly adding the word Gorgeous, but he stopped himself.

Loralona took the remote detonator from her satchel and pressed it. The explosive blew, shooting pieces of adamanticrete right into the other chimney. Both collapsed, and Tola felt himself breathe a sigh of relief.

“Good job,” she said softly.

“Thanks,” Tola replied. “But you’re taking the next one.”.

Colonel Scalith felt a spike of rage as the two saboteurs jettisoned through a hole in the roof with the technical readouts of the power-immune armor. She briefly considered turning the anti-air turrets against them, but immediately discarded the notion. An evacuation had already been called, and even if it hadn’t, there was no way to target them effectively. The missiles would surely cave in the roof, or blast a hole into the volcano, likely killing her in the process.

She forced her mind to calm down. There had to be a way to stop them from leaving the planet. Scalith mulled over the problem, analyzing and rejecting ideas as they came. Then it hit her.

“To the hangar,” she barked, turning on her heel. Raising her wrist communicator, she added, “All hands, stay within the atmosphere; we’re not retreating just yet.”

It was simple: the Coalition ships had been destroyed or disabled. If she could reach her own she could shoot down the saboteurs and the Biomancers from the sky. The only problem would be those few strong enough to tear down her vessels with telekinesis. But if she could scrounge enough fighters working in tandem they might be able to rout them all and still emerge victorious.

Alpha Unit followed right behind her as she relayed the plan over her transceiver. They were more than halfway to the hangar when two Biomancers emerged from the doorway right in front of them. One was a massive human male, with wild black hair, plasma-resistant armor, and a chainsword. The other was an alien female with Coalition tattoos and a smaller chainsword.

Fewer than three meters away, it was only Alpha Unit’s discipline and training that kept them from by sliced in two by the grinning Biomancers.

“Sir! Get to safety!” one of the soldiers said, pushing Scalith toward an adjacent stairwell. “We’ll cover you as long as we can!”

Colonel Scalith hesitated only a fraction of a second. Though it galled her to abandon her comrades, she wouldn’t dishonor their sacrifice, and it was for the good of the Regime that she retrieve the schematics. Scalith ducked into the stairwell and ran down a flight of stairs. There was a loud explosion above her, no doubt a suicidal attempt by Alpha Unit to take the Biomancers down with them—or, barring that—slow their progress as much as possible.

Her jaw clenched, Scalith activated her electrostatic gloves and slammed her fist against the wall in frustration. She forced herself to keep going, another flight down from where she had been. It was doubtful the blast had killed the Biomancers, but it would impede their advance, and Scalith still had one other advantage on her side: she knew the layout of her base better than anyone.

“Hold that hangar!” she shouted into her communicator, giving way to some of her fury. “You hear me? Do not let the Coalition take my ships!”

Still running, she waited for a reply but it never came.

“Do you hear me? Respond!”

Only a cloud of static answered her call.

Scowling, Colonel Scalith redoubled her efforts. One way or another she would kill the saboteurs and the Biomancers . . . or die trying.

As per habit, Terrik checked over his equipment as they strode toward the hangar. He had one annihilator shot left, a full energy pack in his plasma rifle, two concussion grenades in the mounted launcher, three EMP grenades around his bandoleer, half a canister of fuel for either his flamethrower or jet pack, and—of course—his wrist blades should the worst arise.

And to think, I’m one of the lighter armed Kyronades . . .

“This way, Terrik,” Dex growled, taking the nearest set of stairs down.

Terrik? That’s the first time ol’ hulk boy has used my name. I guess he’s starting to like me.

To Terrik’s surprise, he was starting to like Dex as well. There was an unspoken respect between them—both knew they could carry their own weight and would have the others’ back when needed.

I guess there’s one decent Biomancer out of the whole rotten bunch.

Exhaustion was starting to take its toll, but Terrik forced himself to keep moving. Taking the stairs three at a time, they sped toward what he hoped was the hangar. The warning klaxons mercifully ceased, but their sudden silence put the bounty hunter on edge. Though they hadn’t run into any Varrcaran troopers in a while, he was sure the hangar would be well-defended. Not to mention Biomancers and soldiers who must have entered the facility by now.

“Hold on,” Dex said, motioning for Terrik to stop with a massive scarlet hand. “We’re close.”

“What about Janus?”

“Something has held him up.”

Slowly Dex peeked around the corner, then gestured for Terrik to follow. There was a wide, unassuming door beyond which he guessed led to the main hangar.

Dex looked over his shoulder. “Do you have any concussion grenades left?”

“Two.”

“As soon as we’re inside, use ’em.”

“Bold.” Terrik shrugged. “All right.”

Dex counted down from three, then opened the door, allowing Terrik to run through first. The bounty hunter took stock of the situation in a moment’s glance; three Varrcaran shuttles were still in the hangar. All the rest were vacated. Six soldiers were climbing aboard the vessel to his right. Terrik fired a concussion grenade into the ship, where it exploded on impact.

All six died before they had a chance to fire a shot of their own. The blast pulverized the rear of the shuttle, rendering it inoperative.

Two more to go.

Dex moved just as swiftly, clustering the second team as they retreated from an illusory enemy. A second concussion grenade finished the job.

“If anyone didn’t know we’re here, they do now,” Terrik said over the fires.

“That’s the least of our problems, believe me,” Dex said, bringing his electrical whip crackling to life.

Terrik saw what he meant as the last shuttle turned on its landing gear to aim its forward-mounted plasma cannons at the new intruders. Activating his jet pack, Terrik flew to the roof of the shuttle, clear of its weapons. He had wanted to keep these last two shuttles in good working condition to leave the facility. But with the loading ramp closed, he had no way to do that and neutralize the Varrcaran soldiers within.

Sliding down the nose, Terrik stopped on the slanted window and looked at the pilot and copilot within. He pressed the barrel of his rifle against the glass and fired. While the ship’s armored hull could withstand his weapons, the cockpit window couldn’t hold for long.

Three point-blank shots were enough to shatter it, but by then the soldiers had retreated farther inside. Terrik didn’t bother to follow them. Rather than walk headlong into an ambush, he simply transmitted his coordinates to Tola, then called out to Dex. With the cockpit’s exterior pierced, the Varrcarans wouldn’t dare fly the shuttle now.

“Destroy the boarding ramp. We’ll flush them out between us.”

The Latoroth wasted no time. In seconds he had his hands pressed against the steel. It glowed brightly before rupturing inward. Someone screamed, and Terrik heard the shouts of panic from the team caught between two deadly forces.

Terrik plucked one of the EMP grenades from his bandoleer and hurled it through the shattered window. Though they were designed to disable electronic systems and cyborgs, the grenade would still deliver a nasty singe to anyone caught in the blast. And he guessed the panic of seeing a grenade at their feet would override logic.

He was right. Desperate to escape the blast radius, the troopers leapt down through the destroyed boarding ramp entrance. Seconds later he heard screams falling silent as an electrical whip tore through flesh. Just before the grenade detonated, Terrik noticed one of the hangar doors opening. A lone soldier scrambled through, clad in the same power-immune armor that Janus wore. She was a Noulator, powerfully built, with a look of fire in her eyes. The woman gazed over the wreckage in the hangar and headed for the one active shuttle left.

Without hesitation, Terrik leapt down to the floor and fired three rapid shots from his rifle. The first two she dodged, but the third struck her armored leg. Dropping to one knee, the woman let out a howl of frustration and activated her electrostatic gloves. Electricity snapped and popped around her fists as she rose to her feet, looking pained but unharmed.

“Leave me be, Kyronade, or you’ll die before this minute is through.”

Terrik’s only response was to spring forth the twin blades from his right gauntlet.

With a strained effort, Loralona planted the last plastic explosive they had on one of the smokestacks. Unlike Tola she simply slid down the chimney, gripping her gloves and boots against the adamanticrete to slow her descent.

“All set,” she told him.

Tola nodded. “Then let’s head to the hangar. Once we block off the chimney it won’t take long for the pressure to destroy this lovely vacation spot.”

“Got an estimate on that? Five minutes? Ten?”

Tola started jogging across the roof, heading for the coordinates Terrik had sent him. “Hard to say without knowing the factory better. I’d guess ten at the most, though.”

“I see,” Loralona said, detonating the explosive as she caught up to Tola. “So where is the hangar from here?”

Tola gestured. “This way. Several flights down.”

“All right. We’re zip-lining off the roof, I take it?”

“No. We’re only going part of the way down so it would be faster to simply rappel off the wall.”

“Sounds like fun. What ab—”

The rest of her sentence cut short as her transceiver buzzed. A message had been sent to her smartphone. Reaching into her satchel, Loralona retrieved the device and read the message silently.

You have twelve hours left to kill Tola Kuris. He is a master manipulator and con artist working for a rival crime lord. He presents too great a threat to the Shock Syndicate to be allowed to live. If you fail, a team will be sent to finish the job and eliminate you as well.

Loralona read and reread the message, her blood running cold at the implication.

Tola, a con artist?

“Something wrong, Gorgeous?” Tola asked, noticing that she had slowed down.

She looked up at him, then stashed the smartphone back in her satchel. “No . . . I’m fine.” Though truthfully, she was anything but.

“Good. We’re about there.”

Loralona felt like she had swallowed a block of lead. Her mind raced. She hadn’t paid much attention to her new nickname, but now she couldn’t help but wonder if it was all just part of a con. Was Tola simply lulling her into obedience? Using her to complete his mission?

No, she thought immediately. He wouldn’t.

But was that coming from her mind or her heart? Already he had convinced her to help destroy a Varrcaran base. Though the act would help the Shock Syndicate, it wasn’t her assignment, nor was it up to her to make decisions like that.

“Here we are,” Tola said, unaware of her worries. “I’ll go first.”

He attached the end of his adhesive dart to the roof, held on to the grappling gun and jumped over the side. Using the extending cable, he slowed his descent, kicking off from the wall in regular intervals.

Loralona chewed at her lip. Tola had seemed sincere in all of his actions and mannerisms. But a true con artist could fool nearly anyone, right up to the point they betrayed you. And if he truly worked for a rival crime syndicate, the last pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place.

Her hand moved involuntarily to the trigger hooked to the back of her belt. The trigger that could destroy Tola and fulfill her word to the Shock Syndicate.

No, she thought again. Even if I don’t trust Tola, I don’t trust the Shock Syndicate fully either. I won’t do something I’ll regret based solely on their orders.

But if I don’t, another part of her reasoned, how long before another assassin kills Tola, anyway? Or me?

The sound of shattered glass rattled her from her thoughts. Tola had broken into one of the floors below near the hangar.

Her hands shaking and her mind a mess, Loralona grabbed hold of the cable and started to rappel down behind him.

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