Instruments of Divine Will
“Spider to Samurai. Hallways are clear. Cameras are on loop. Room records are erased. Phones are disabled. You’re clear to proceed,” Peter said.
Yuri closed his eyes. Breathed. And hit his push-to-talk switch.
“Spider, Samurai. Roger. All call signs: execute, execute, execute.”
Dressed in full battle rattle, Team Black Watch spilled out into the hallway outside the suite. True to Peter’s word, there was no one in sight. Kayla and Will led the team to the stairwell at the end of the east wing. Climbing the stairs, they clung to the outermost side of the shaft, keeping their backs to the walls, weapons covering every angle.
“Enemy is on the move,” Peter said. “The ground floor guards are heading to the lift lobby.”
“Shift change?” George asked.
“Negative. No one is coming out of the rooms on the forty-fifth floor.”
“Have the OPFOR detected the hack?” Yuri asked.
Silence.
It wouldn’t be out of the question for the VC or the Sinners or both to seize control of the hotel’s security system before the negotiations. If that were the case, if they had detected Peter meddling with the system…
“Warning, warning. The VC on the ground floor just warped out,” Peter asked.
“Is he on the fortieth floor?” Yuri asked.
“Stand by… I see a portal… He’s there.”
“Reset the cameras now!”
“Already done.”
Yuri exhaled softly. “What’s the VC doing now?”
“He’s walking down the hallway. Seems to be looking for signs of unusual activity.”
“What about his TBC counterpart?”
“He’s waiting for the elevator.”
“Warn us if he’s going to look into the stairwell.”
“Roger… Break, break, break. The VC warped up. He’s at the forty-second floor now. Right outside Red Raven’s suite.”
“They won’t find anything,” George said confidently.
“Assume soft compromise,” Yuri said. “Step things up.”
In the cramped stairwell, every sound echoed off the walls. The clashing of metal, the pounding of soles, the scraping of fabric against concrete. The team traded silence for speed, trying to outrun a foe that could teleport anywhere.
“VC is hanging around the hallway. Sinner is now in the elevator and headed up to the forty-second floor,” Peter reported.
“Roger. Red Raven is at the jump-off point.”
The other team had a two-floor head start. Black Watch sped it up, eating up the final flights of steps to the forty-fourth floor. At the landing, they consolidated, spending a precious second for everyone—especially the SWAT cops—to catch up.
“Black Watch at the jump-off point,” Yuri reported. “Executing Michael.”
Reaching under his shirt, Yuri drew out his silver cross. The metal glinted brightly under the harsh electric lights. He touched it to his lips, then lifted it high.
“Saint Michael the Archangel, glorious prince of the Heavenly Host, defend us in battle. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do you, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God cast into Hell Satan and all the evil spirits who wander through the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”
“Amen,” a voice whispered.
Will whispered.
“Theotokos Virgin, rejoice, Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, for you have borne the savior of our souls. Amen.”
Will recited the ancient prayer alongside Yuri. Though his prayer was worded slightly differently, his voice was strong and his intent pure. That was more important than anything else.
“Kyrie, eleison. Christe, eleison. Watch over us now and defend us in battle. Deliver us from the influence of unclean spirits. Rescue us from darkness and spiritual bondage. Reveal your power to us and make humble those proud spirits that claim dominion over the air and the earth. Kyrie, eleison. Christe, eleison.”
The world brightened.
The lights glowed with renewed intensity. Black, shapeless masses fled the corners and the shadowed places of the stairs. Unseen weights lifted off Yuri’s body. Around him, the team members glanced about, looking for the source of the sudden illumination.
Clarity filled his mind, polishing it into a bright mirror. Serenity washed over his heart, transforming it into a pool of still water. Light, holy and pure and true, enkindled his spirit, engulfing his being, transforming all of him into an inextinguishable flame.
Heat radiated from his body. Light, a higher light, a light perceived not with the eyes but with the soul, gushed from his pores to flood the world around him. In his mind’s eye, he saw a great white throne, and seated upon the throne was a man clad in a robe of purest white, emanating wrath and love, light and fire, a man whose face he could not see—and did not wish to see.
And he knew.
Here and now, he bridged the gulf between Heaven and Earth. Through him flowed the power and the majesty of the heavens into this point in space and time. From him came the sacred stillness that embraced the entire universe. A sudden awareness flooded his mind, like the lifting of a veil, a complete knowledge of everyone and everything around him, of the living souls in the stack, in the hotel, in the city, in the world. In that awareness, too, was deep insight into the laws that governed all creation, an insight that could not be analyzed or articulated, only intuited.
He was no longer Yuri Yamamoto, the man, the warrior, the former operator; he was Yuri Yamamoto, child of God, a soul once created pure and simple and clean, and could yet be again. His hands were not his own, but the instruments of divine will. He saw not with his eyes alone, but with the eyes of Heaven. He spoke not with his voice, but with the Voice that rang through the cosmos.
The divine connection was so soft, so fragile, thinner than a silken thread, softer than a wisp of cloud. The slightest disturbance could shut it down, close him off from the heavens once again. The merest speck of dirt, of corruption, of weakness, would contaminate the light flowing through him. It was as brilliant as fire, as fluid as water, as intangible as air, as grounded as earth. It was the unity of all things, the essence of the elements, the very breath from which came all Creation. In it was everything.
And so long as he maintained this state of mind, as long as he stayed true to the Way and the Truth and the Light, as long as he obeyed universal law, no devil nor monster could touch him.
“Let’s roll,” Yuri said.
The stack surged up the stairs and lined up by the door to the forty-fifth floor. Though he couldn’t see them, Yuri knew the opposition would have seeded the landing with micro cameras or smartdust. It was what he would have done in their shoes.
“VC on the forty-second floor is running for the west end staircases,” Peter warned. “You’re going to have company.”
Will crossed over to the knob end of the door. At his nod, Kayla burst into the hallway beyond, hiding her body behind the door.
A sharp wet slap echoed from the hallway. A second slap. A pair of metallic bangs followed. Then Will barged in, his particle beam weapon up.
Yuri flowed in right behind the duo. Will took up position in the middle of the hallway, PBW at the ready. Kayla positioned herself at Will’s shoulder, in the shadow of the backscatter shield. A pair of corpses lay on the floor, gore spewing from wounds in the center of their foreheads.
Lightning flashed. Thunder cracked. Downrange, dazzling light spilled from the lobby. On the heels of that terrific crash came a softer but sharper crack.
Red Raven had engaged the guards on their end. Subsonics hadn’t worked. It was time to do dynamic.
James gripped Yuri’s shoulder. Coilgun at the high ready, Yuri squeezed Kayla’s shoulder. She tapped Will’s back. Will advanced.
This wasn’t orthodox tactics. They would have split into two stacks to cover both ends of the hall. The particle beam weapon changed the equation. Nobody wanted to catch stray rads from a high-power discharge. Everyone had to stay in the shadow of the shield as much as possible.
Will and Kayla rushed past the first set of opposing doors to pull long security. Yuri peeled right, taking up position by a door. Karim sliced the pie around him, pulling a master keycard from a pocket.
This was the room of the chief negotiator for the Void Collective. The principal VC HVT. Snatching him was paramount. All the others were secondary.
As Karim brought the keycard to the reader, Yuri centered his expanded awareness. He knew there was only one man in the suite, he knew exactly where he was, he knew without words, without seeing, a knowledge that transcended his limited senses to touch the entire universe.
“Aum,” he whispered.
It was the Word that echoed forever across the universe, the Unstruck Sound that resounded behind all words, affirming and enforcing the laws of the universe.
The reader flashed green. The locks released. Yuri surged into the darkness beyond.
One step into the room, he sensed its layout. He knew the positioning of the furniture, he felt the empty space between the obstacles, he grasped the path that would take him to his target. He didn’t have to see with his mortal eyes to know where he had to go.
Then Karim entered the room and clicked on his weapon light, dispelling all shadows.
SOP would be to clear every room, check every door. Yuri had no time for that. Switching on his own light, he glanced at his right, knowing before looking that he would find only an empty kitchenette, trusting Karim to cover the left.
The foyer fed into a deserted living room. To the right, the doorway to the bedroom stood wide open. Yuri clicked off his light, denying the HVT useful information, then rushed into the bedroom.
A dark figure scrambled by the side of the bed. Yuri lit him up. The floodlight caught him full in the face, revealing a half-naked man partially covered in a thick blanket, reaching for the nightstand.
Yuri lunged.
Snarling, the negotiator raised his arms to guard his face. Yuri went low, punching the muzzle into the HVT’s belly. The Elect doubled over with a loud whoosh. Stepping in, Yuri swung his coilgun as though he were slashing a sword, catching the side of his unprotected neck with the forend, blowing the subject down.
As he covered the fallen man, Yuri touched his hand to his crucifix.
“God Almighty, Lord of Hosts, mute the Dark Power infesting this man, that they may no longer harm anyone, and find their way back to the Light!”
White light, purer and brighter than any light made by human hands, flooded the room. In this newfound illumination, Yuri saw a shroud of seething shadows wriggling around the HVT’s head. Something screamed in his mind’s ear, and the shadows retreated.
The HVT screamed.
Karim fell upon him. Within heartbeats, Karim had cuffed the man’s hands behind his back, then drew a syringe from a chest pocket.
“You can’t do this to me!” the HVT screamed.
“Tough luck,” Karim remarked.
And plunged the syringe into the man’s neck.
The HVT wailed.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME?!”
The syringe was filled with counter-nano solution. It would disable the implants infesting the HVT, cutting him off from the hive mind. Between that and the muting, there was no way he could access the powers of the Void now.
The operators hauled the still-screaming man to his feet and frog-marched him out the suite. On the way out, Yuri spied a briefcase sitting on the living room table and snatched it up.
“Victor Prime EPW! Trailers!” Yuri yelled.
The SWAT cops moved up. Karim shoved the prisoner to the nearest cop. Yuri handed off the briefcase to Lee.
The stairwell door burst open.
The third cop in the stack squeezed off a four-round burst.
“Subject neutralized!” the rearguard yelled.
James and Zen emerged from another room, prisoner in tow. Zen had a laptop bag slung around his neck. They handed off the captive, called it on the radio, and rejoined the stack. Together, the group headed down the hallway.
With every step, he felt the clock ticking down. The bad guys would know that the Reaper was coming for them. The screeching of hypervelocity flechettes reverberated through the hallways, so loud that his ear protection kicked in. There was no way to hide this now. BPD and the New Gods’ QRF were on their way.
They had to end this fast.
“Sinner TBC arriving at the lift lobby in five seconds,” Peter warned. “Three… two… one…”
An elevator dinged. A Sinner in a business step stepped out, clutching a PDW in his hands. He spun towards the team—
“Papa Bravo!” Will warned.
And fired.
Blinding light washed out the world. Deafening thunder drowned out all sound. A lance of high-energy particles slammed into the cyborg’s center of mass.
The TBC fell on his face.
“Nice,” Will said.
“The basement guards are heading up the elevator. I’ll jam the car,” Peter said.
Past another set of opposing doors, Will and Kayla halted. The left-hand room was empty, but James and Zen moved to clear it anyway, this time looking for intelligence materials. Yuri and Karim peeled right.
Here was the last negotiator. He’d have plenty of warning already. Yuri felt him, a roiling ball of tension and frustrated energy, lying in ambush a distance from the door.
Karim opened the door. Yuri stepped into a short hallway. Cabinets to the left, bathroom to the right. Light spilled out from the open doorway behind him, illuminating a small slice of the living room beyond. Yuri ignored the doors, stopping short of the other end of the hallway.
He allowed Karim a moment to check the bathroom—the kid was a stickler for the rulebook, even when it wasn’t needed—then lifted his fist above his head and spread out his fingers, as though it were a twinkling star.
Fabric rustled. Metal clinked. Karim held out a flash-bang in front of Yuri’s face. Yuri nodded.
The stun grenade sailed into the room beyond, bounced off a sofa, and spun away into the uncleared space. The target twitched. The flash-bang exploded.
Yuri surged in, chasing the light and the blast. Instantly he turned right, weapon light on, pivoting towards the target, keying on his hands—
Gun.
Yuri shot him twice in the upper chest. As he dropped, Yuri popped him a third time in the head.
“Clear!” Yuri called.
“Clear!” Karim agreed.
“Victor Three, EKIA!”
Two out of three wasn’t a bad result. Karim snatched a laptop off the worktable. Yuri grabbed an attaché case by the couch. Together they headed out, in time to hear more gunfire.
The WC had rallied. Doors down the hall flung open. Gunmen poked around the open doorways, trying to engage the team. Kneeling, Kayla and James laid down a barrage of suppressing fire, keeping them back. Zen fired above their heads, adding to the weight of fire. Will loosed a mid-power particle beam, then another, tearing up the rooms.
Yuri and Karim tossed their loot to the cops behind them. Then, keeping low, Yuri patted Will’s shoulder.
“Full power PB shot right there!” Yuri called, pointing at his eleven o’clock.
Will shouldered his weapon.
“Papa Bravo!”
Light. Thunder. A world-shaking blast. The beam obliterated all in its path, boring through walls and doors and furniture with equal ferocity. Smoke wafted from the holes.
Half a torso tumbled out of an open doorway.
The particle beam had seared his flesh into a blackened smear. The sweet smell of cooked pork wafted in the air. Pain and surprise twisted across the man’s face. Nonetheless, he twisted around, bringing up his personal defense weapon.
A barrage of flechettes destroyed his head.
Still kneeling, Will pointed his PBW straight up at the ceiling, a silent signal that he was dry. As he unfastened the empty tank, Karim came up behind him. Right before leaving the room, Karim had secured a spare fuel tank to the pack. Karim grabbed the tank—
An arm poked around a doorway, PDW in hand, ready to hose down the hall.
Kayla fired.
The hand exploded in a riot of red. The now-useless weapon dropped to the ground. The shooter retreated.
Karim handed off the tank to Will. Inside a few seconds, Will recharged the PBW and rose to his feet.
“All elevators are jammed between floors,” Peter announced.
More gunfire rang out in the west wing. Will charged down the hall and—
A lance of blue-white light blasted through the walls an arm’s length from Will.
“Red Raven! Check fire, check fire!” Yuri yelled. “Do not discharge full-power PBs down your left side!”
“Sorry!” George said.
They had highlighted this during mission prep. Yuri had emphasized the dangers of the PBW multiple times. Someone had forgotten it. Fury filled his veins. Someone could have—
“PORTAL!” Lee yelled. “They’re in the middle of the train!”
A cold wave washed over his back. A powerful impulse filled his heart. He yielded into the urge, spinning around and slashing his weapon down.
Smashing a gun hand down.
Two VC commandos had appeared behind Yuri, materializing in the tiny gap separating the cops from the former operators. Dressed in their uniform suits, both men had a PDW in one hand and a knife in the other, ready to hose down the stack.
Yuri swept his thumb down, mashed the trigger, and twisted through a tight arc. The coilgun jumped and jerked in his hands, softly and silently, stitching the closer threat across the gut. In that moment of hyperawareness, Yuri swore he saw the flechettes shattering on contact, the reinforced fabric of the suit rippling on impact.
Too late he realized that his coilgun was still set on subsonic mode.
The gunman smashed his left forearm into Yuri’s coilgun, driving it off-line, then brought his PDW up to Yuri’s face.
Yuri released his coilgun.
And stepped past the PDW.
His left arm snaked around the gun arm and pulled the threat down in a counterclockwise arc. The commando fired uselessly into the floor. Yuri’s right palm smashed into the threat’s chin. At the same time, his knee blasted into his groin. He gripped the commando’s head, swept out his leg, and spiked his skull into the ground.
The second gunman aimed at Yuri.
PDWs chattered.
Red lines danced across the commando’s chest. He staggered back. Then his head exploded under a storm of gunfire.
Underneath Yuri, the VC groaned and writhed, trying to throw Yuri off. Yuri pinned the man’s shoulder with his left palm, drew his knife, and slit his throat.
Blood splashed across Yuri’s face shield and armor. Rising, he wiped the blade down and sheathed it.
And sighed.
Yuri had lost focus for a split second. It was all it took for the VC to exploit the gap. He couldn’t get careless again.
“Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison,” Yuri whispered.
Renewed light shone down from the heavens. Rekindled flames ignited in his spirit. Once again, his heart settled into deep stillness, becoming a pool of clear water. Swapping out a fresh magazine, he clicked his weapon to full power and followed Will down the hallway of death.
Another PDW snaked around an open door. Yuri saw it in crystal clarity, the muzzle sweeping towards the team. Kayla, covering the left side, wouldn’t see it in time. Will fired a low-power beam, missing it by inches. Yuri locked in on the tiny target, bringing his entire body in line with his will, his weapon becoming an extension of his intention. When the sights aligned, when he knew he would hit, he fired.
The hand exploded.
The threat fell back, closing and locking the door.
“Target still up!” Will warned, moving past the door.
Will’s job was long security. Flushing out the threat was for everyone behind him. As Yuri approached the door, Karim brought up his keycard.
“Aum,” Yuri intoned.
In the aftershock of the word, he sensed the target’s location and intent. As Karim opened the door, light fell on a trail of blood arcing into the bathroom, confirming Yuri’s findings. Yuri stacked on the bathroom door and signaled for a flash-bang.
Karim tossed in a stun grenade. The colossal blast rattled the mirror and the windows. Yuri rushed in, turning to the bathtub—
The VC leapt at Yuri, a knife in his good hand.
Yuri sidestepped.
Slashing wildly, the VC missed Yuri completely, and slammed his forehead into the hard marble counter. He slumped to the floor, completely dazed.
Karim shot him in the head.
Outside, a sudden silence fell. A lull in the storm.
“BPD SWAT is inbound,” Peter warned.
It was inevitable. Once the particle beams started blasting out the walls of the hotel, everyone could see what was going on. Peter couldn’t keep the cops from responding—not without denying their ability to respond to genuine emergencies.
“Spider, Samurai. Is the smartdust still operational?” Yuri asked.
“Yes,” Peter replied.
“How many VC left?”
“Three. Rooms 45-12, 45-08, 45-07.”
“Got it. Break. Boomer, on me. We’re going to 45-12. Rest of you, take the other rooms,” Yuri ordered.
Will and Yuri approached 45-12. Yuri closed his eyes, extending his awareness to the room beyond.
And pointed.
“Full power PB right there.”
“Papa Bravo!” Will warned.
And fired.
An incandescent beam of utter obliteration blasted through the wall, through the room, through the world outside. Covered by the noise, the rest of the team breached the cleared the other rooms.
“All VC eliminated,” Zen said.
Will shook his head. “How did you _do _that?”
Yuri smiled. “Let’s move.”
Red Raven and Black Watch linked up in the lift lobby. Although Red Raven had only captured a single HVT, Yuri was pleased to see that everyone was alright. The SWAT cops consolidated, taking control of the prisoners and the intelligence material. Once they were set, they rushed up the stairs to the rooftop bar.
The door was locked. Red Raven fixed that problem with a breaching slug. Spilling out into the roof, the operators formed a wide circle, gathering the prisoners in the middle of the formation. The Sinner cyborg was completely limp, a hole blasted clean through his chest. Yuri sensed he was still alive, or at least, his brain was still intact.
“Wheels, entry team is go for extract!” Yuri called.
“Roger. ETA sixty seconds,” Hernandez replied.
All around them, Babylon stirred. Sirens howled in the deeps of the city. Strings of light revealed skyscrapers and bridges. Corporate logos and display boards burned in vivid hues. The wind carried the distinct hum of gravity mirrors.
“Police gravtrucks, nine o’clock high!” Lee yelled.
A pair of dark shapes swooped down from the light-drowned skies. Lightbars flashed blue and red, staining the high-rises around them.
“Spider, is BPD SWAT on station?” Yuri asked.
“Stand by, stand by,” Peter said.
“Beamers, cover the gravtrucks!” Yuri yelled.
“What the hell?!” Lee shouted. “We don’t kill cops!”
“Are they even cops?” Yuri retorted.
“They’ve got gunners on the roof turrets,” George called. “Can’t make out their long guns.”
The gravtrucks jinked to the side, increasing the separation between them. A cold wave washed over Yuri’s heart.
“Beamers, engage the gravtrucks!”
“Samurai!” Lee shouted. “What the—”
Machine guns chattered. Bright lines of red tracers streaked across the darkness. The shooters instantly scattered, but they were far too slow.
A string of shots walked across a Red Raven operator, knocking him down. Rounds ricocheted off the concrete. Yuri flung himself to the ground and covered his head, just as tracers screamed over his head.
“Samurai, SWAT is five minutes out,” Peter placidly reported.
A little too late for that, Yuri thought.
“THEY’RE NOT COPS!” George shouted.
As soon as the words left his mouth, a PBW discharged. The ravenous beam transfixed the closer gravtruck. The vehicle vanished in a ball of flame.
A second PBW fired.
Missed.
The surviving gravtruck charged in, nimbly dodging left and right, machine gun chattering. The shots went wild, tearing up the concrete. The sickening thud of metal striking flesh reached Yuri’s ears. The operators rallied, throwing up a hail of fire. Hypersonic flechettes sparked off the gravtruck’s chassis. The vehicle shuddered and faltered. The SWAT cops hosed it down, even through their tiny weapons were nigh-useless at this range.
A PBW fired again.
The gravtruck went down in flames.
“What the hell was that?” Lee muttered, somewhere off to Yuri’s side.
“QRF,” Yuri replied.
“Yeah, but whose?”
“I—”
A ring of portals opened in the middle of the roof, surrounding the captives in a protective circle. Squirming black shapes wriggled in the depths, resolving into form and color.
Lost the connection again!
“YAHWEH!” Yuri roared.
The word erupted from the center of his being, expanding outwards to shake the entire universe. The portals shrank, contracted, closed, but in their final moments of existence they dumped a four-man team of dark figures into the world.
And one of them landed right in front of Yuri.
Yuri rushed in. The commando scrambled to raise his rifle. At the last moment, Yuri stepped off to the right, slipping past the muzzle. His left hand blurred, now gripping his kaiken in a reverse grip, and the blade slashed across the commando’s throat.
A liquid gargling cry uttered from the massive wound. Yuri reversed his motion, hooking the knife around the back of the commando’s neck, slamming his right palm into the threat’s left shoulder, and sweeping out the commando’s legs. The force vectors twisted the commando around and broke his balance. Yuri spiraled the threatdown to the ground, slamming his side into the concrete, and knelt beside the body. He rammed the blade into the commando’s armpit, then brought up his coilgun.
Carbines chattered. Coilguns screamed. Men yelled and scrambled. Flashlights blinked on and off. The captives lay on the floor, keeping their heads low. There was no cover, only chaos, and Yuri was in the center of the kill zone.
His sights fell on a dark figure crouching beside a sofa. Yuri lit him up. All black clothing, M83 carbine. Commando. His coilgun barked, and the VC operative went down.
The dying commando tried to roll away. Yuri grabbed the handle of the knife and pulled him in, resting the coilgun on the body. Looking up, he saw a VC operative press his palm to a detainee’s forehead.
“AUM!” Yuri said.
Commando and captive froze in place.
And a fusillade of flechettes hammered the commando down.
Yuri hadn’t seen a headshot, so he blasted the operative in the head. A death rattle escaped the throat of the commando beneath him. Yuri twisted the knife and scanned.
Silence.
“Clear!” someone yelled.
“Clear!” Kayla shouted.
“Clear!” George reported.
“Samurai, Wheels. We are ten seconds out!” Hernandez called.
“Roger. Break. All elements, collapse on the detainees!” Yuri yelled.
Yuri feared the worst. Yet in his heart, the calmness remained. What was done was done. Weapon in hand, he checked the detainees.
The chief VC negotiator was still alive, growling and cursing, fighting his restraints. Yuri stepped on him, forcing him down. The TBC was motionless, but he still sensed a spark of consciousness.
The last prisoner had gone still.
Yuri clicked on his weapon light.
His head was obliterated.
Yuri couldn’t tell who had shot him, only that there was nothing more he could do. Shaking his head, Yuri reloaded and muttered another prayer.
A pair of gravtrucks soared above the parapet. A pair of red and blue chemlights glowed on the dashboards, their agreed-upon IFF marker. Even so, a Red Raven shooter shone a flashlight on the vehicles, confirming the drivers’ identities, before waving them forward.
The shooters took up security. The team leaders yanked the doors open. The SWAT cops hauled the detainees to their feet and forced the prisoners aboard the vehicles. As the team members climbed in, Yuri did a quick head count.
Everyone was accounted for.
“Last man!” Zen declared.
Zen slammed the rear doors shut. Yuri headed to the cab and claimed the shotgun seat. As he strapped himself in, Gilbert cleared the chemlights from the dashboard.
“Go! Get out of here!” Yuri shouted.
Gilbert’s eyes gleamed.
“Taking off!”
The gravtrucks shot into the sky like a bat out of hell. The G-forces threatened to pin Yuri to his seat. He pulled the helmet off his head and patted himself down. There was plenty of blood, but none of it was his.
“Black Watch, is everyone okay?” Yuri asked.
“Took a round,” Lee hissed. “Forearm. Through-and-through. Nothing serious. Bandaging it now.”
“The rest of us are fine,” Kayla said.
Yuri heaved a sigh of relief. His heart lightened by a fraction. Then he hit the radio again.
“Red Raven, what’s your status?”
“We’re good. One of my guys took some rounds, but the armor stopped them all. Whoever built this armor, I want to send him my thanks.”
Yuri exhaled again. Everyone had pulled through. A miracle.
Clouds parted in the skies above. Through the opening, a white dot peered down, an unblinking eye that saw all things under heaven. Smiling, Yuri lowered his head and pressed his palms together.
“Thank you.”
Purchase Babylon Black here!