10: Infiltrazione
Sorry for the long wait. Here is the next chapter, please read and review.
Jose squatted in the deep snow and waited, scanning the area for any signs of enemy troops. He could see the light of torches in the distance, intermittently waving about between a row of tiny shacks. He studied in silence the wavering beams of light and sighed.
Four. There are four of them with torches. They are spread out over quite a distance. The shacks will provide good cover. If I'm careful I may be able to take them.
Ever so slowly Jose flattened himself into the snow and crawled, buried beneath the soft white cover. He resurfaced every so often to check the situation as well as to get a breath of fresh air. He dragged himself through the thick set snow with the pace of a snail, gradually closing in on the shacks.
When he only a few metres away he got up into a crouch and ran up to the wall of the nearest building. The buildings were raised slightly, with a gap of a few feet underneath. He dropped as low as he could and scrambled underneath the one-room shelter. He was so close he could hear their murmuring voices, their curses.
"I can't believe it! How can two of them escape so damn fast?" one of them men asked. He waved his torch around as he spoke. The man beside him held a sub-machine gun in his thickly wrapped hands. Even with all the extra layers he was still shivering. They must not have been one of the Col Moschin, just a couple of grunts.
"Well one of them is heading to the hangar. He won't make it far anyway; Falcon's got the place set up like a fortress. Even those cyborgs wouldn't be able to make in there in one piece!"
"So what about the girl? She's a feisty little thing. You think she'll head there too?"
"Probably. Let 'em go ahead and kill themselves! It's easier for us that way."
"Yeah."
The two laughed, dropping their guard. Jose rolled out from under the shelter and snatched Triela's bayonet. He tightened his grip around the steel handle and rushed over to the two Padania troops. The man with the torch never even knew what hit him as the sharpened blade embedded itself deep into his back, effortlessly drilling through his vest. He let out a strangled yelp and dropped to his knees, writhing about to signal his companion.
The second man quickly took aim but Jose had already reached for his side-arm and fired point-blank into his forehead. The soldier staggered back and crashed into the snow.
The sound of the gunshot rang out in the open air and the roars of the other scouts came from everywhere at once. Jose removed the bayonet from the dead man's back and retreated inside one of the shacks. He placed his pistol back in its holster and unstrapped Henrietta's FN-P90 from his back. He checked to make sure it was loaded and then moved to the window. He forced the creaky old plane of glass up just enough to lean his upper body out and then he sank back inside and waited.
Three groups gathered in the centre, each group consisting of a scout with a torch and two armed guards. While they huddled together out in the open Jose poked the barrel out of the window and squeezed the trigger. The recoil was surprisingly strong and he was pushed back by the force. HE had seen Henrietta handle this weapon without even flinching. He never thought it would hold so much kick to it. Still the wild burst managed to catch two of them at the least. Two unwary men were thrown about to land heavily in the snow. All heads turned and the three teams scattered like ants. Jose quickly leaned out again and fired another stream of cold lead, taking down two more. The grey-white snow in the centre of the street had turned crimson from the mounting corpses.
As soon as he was done Jose ducked back inside the window to escape the hail of return fire from the remaining troops. He waited, listening to the sounds of gunfire, picking his moment. When the thunderous roar died down he leaned outside once more and emptied the clip, tearing through another grunt and ripping his chest open in a vibrant shower of red.
Curses and commands were barked and sounds of footsteps reached Jose's ears. He rose sharply and locked the door before scanning the room. It was mostly empty, just a table and chairs towards the back window. But it was enough. The young agent ran over and flipped the table on its side and pushed it up against the door. When he was done building his little barricade he returned to the window and peered out into the open street.
A bullet sailed right past his head, the air whipping at his face as it soared past. Another smashed the glass above his head, showering him with broken shards. Jose rolled aside and moved over to the opposite window which had already been decimated by gunshots. The final four regrouped and fell back into one of the other shacks opposite. Jose cursed and held his position observing their movements. It was then that a thought suddenly occurred to him.
They were in groups of three...All of them were in groups of three...But then...There should be another one out there!
The back window of the shack exploded in a rain of shards and before he could even turn to face the sudden threat, Jose felt the cold, biting pain of a bullet burrowing into his flesh. He grit his teeth and cursed just as another bullet tore through his side.
A great roar escaped him and Jose unleashed a wild spray on the back wall of the shack. The walls were shredded as bullet-holes carved through it. A cry of pain escaped from outside and Jose overheard running footsteps. He snarled and kept his gaze on the back window, forgetting the others.
Then there was a soft crunching in the snow, not just around the back, but from the front too. They were going to storm the cabin!
Henrietta...I promise...I won't abandon you!
The wounded agent propped himself up against the wall and leaned outside. He drew his side-arm and dropped the larger weapon on the floor. He used his free hand to press against the wound in his side and curb the coursing flow of blood. He leaned against the wall and glanced outside where two of the Padania grunts were moving to the window.
With a cry of unrelenting fury Jose pulled the trigger and a blinding muzzle flash exploded out from the barrel. His first shot missed both targets, landing in the snow at their feet. The second caught the further soldier in the arm and sent him spinning about before dropping down on one knee.
The closer grunt surged forward and threw himself at the door only to bounce off. As he stumbled back Jose fired again. The bullet missed his head but managed to slice through his throat. Blood bubbled up out of his mouth and the ragged hole in his neck and the grunt collapsed.
The further grunt now dived to one side and glanced off a rampant burst of automatic fire. Jose felt the agonising sting of a bullet colliding with his shoulder and his free hand dropped slack by his side, allowing the wound in his side to spew dark blood out through the gaping hole.
Jose dropped to the floor, landing on his back. His eyes squeezed shut and he listened closely for the sounds of intruders. There were several men at the back of the shack and they were about to climb in when Jose rolled onto his side and lined up a shot. A single head popped up right in his sights and he shot the Padania scum dead, his body dropping back down to the earth where the other men let out startled cries.
Henrietta...I won't leave you! I will find you!
A cold piece of steel was pressed against the back of his head. Jose's shoulders trembled and in a fit of rage Jose threw his head back. He caught the assailant in the groin, forcing him to drop his weapon and stumbled backwards. The assailant commanded the others to take him down quick but it was too late.
Several bullets became lodged in his centre mass and the grunt was thrown back out the window from the powerful impact. Jose snatched up the grunt's discarded weapon and trained his sights on the back window again where the final two men were climbing up.
Henrietta...I cannot die here! Not yet! Not until I've found you!
The broken young man took notice of the dark silhouettes that blotted out the moonlight in the decimated back wall of the cabin. Before they even reached the window Jose let loose three rounds. Two of them hit their mark, one in the vermin's leg and another to the chest. One body dropped but there was one last soldier left and he was already leaning in through the window, lining up a shot.
Jose scowled at him and lined up a shot of his own. He squeezed the trigger with the last of his strength. The muzzle flash blinded him, the explosive roar deafened him. For a moment he was numb, the wold silent and calm.
Then everything went black...
Triela stared out the window. She had heard the constant rattling thunder of gunfire for quite some time now. She had no idea what was going on out there, but it seemed it was serious enough to dismiss her guards. They had been split up and sent elsewhere throughout the camp. She was left alone in the cramped little room, tied to a chair. She had been slowly forcing her bonds loose through sheer force. The restraints were thick but she had been pulling her arms apart slowly for some time now and the fibres were starting to break loose.
When at last the ropes snapped and she was free she approached the window, cautious to avoid being spotted. She peered outside and noticed a row of buildings outside. There was a grid of little shacks all of them just big enough to house one room and nothing more, just like her little cell. Past the first few rows she spotted something in the snow, something mangled and stained.
They were corpses. Falling snow obscured them to the point of being unrecognisable mounds of dead flesh but Triela knew they were from Padania. The sight of their bodies brought fresh hope to the young cyborg and she quickly scanned the room for weapons or supplies only to come up short. With no other choice she stepped outside into the frigid breeze and began checking through the other cabins.
Near the centre of the grid there was a larger building, a square structure that stood taller than the shacks as well as spreading out further. There had to be something worth salvaging in there and so she ducked down low and scuttled over to the cracked timber door. The pain was flaking off in the extreme weather and the handle's gloss had worn off revealing rusted patches. It was locked but it was no trouble for a cybernetic soldier to force her way in.
The room was dark but she could make out the lumpy shape of beds lined up against the walls. There were many tables and cupboards along the walls as well. Triela stumbled around and got a closer look at the equipment. She realised she had found the infirmary. Medical equipment littered the tables and cupboards and there were even life support machines beside a few of the gurneys.
All of it was useless to her however. Her flesh was made of grafted synthetic fibres and her musculature was more machine than tissue. Even her organs were mostly cybernetic implants, designed to keep her functioning at optimal efficiency no matter what. A simple roll of bandages would do her no good and the medicines were all useless to her man-made innards.
They were useless to her, but not her handler. Not Hilshire. He had to be out there. He must have been wounded by the crash.
I have to find him! I have to-
A loud crash outside made her body stiffen and with inhuman reflexes spun on her heels to come to a grating halt facing the door. She leapt back into the comforting embrace of the shadows and sank into the floor, lying low under a table. She kept her gaze solely on the lone figure approaching from outside.
It had an awkward gait, definitely injured. Its body swayed with each slow, laboured step. The figure limped forward and collapsed into the door, pushing itself up against the frame for support. Its legs were shaking, the knees creaking audibly.
Triela clenched her fists and waited. She would finish off the intruder as soon as the moment came up. She held her breath, a simple task for one with-out true lungs, and waited.
The figure stood there in the hall, breathing heavily. Their breath came in ragged, wheezes like stale air escaping from a slashed tyre. Their body was trembling uncontrollably, the feet sliding out from underneath. The figure dropped against the wall and landed in a heap. The head sagged and the body leaned heavily to one side, inevitably dropping onto its side.
Triela waited a little longer before crawling out from the darkness. She crawled right up to the figure and got a good look of his face.
It was then that she screamed, a scream unbefitting of a machine, evidence of the child she once was. All of her programming and training were abandoned in an instant as she scrambled backwards and cried out a high shrieking note of pure fear. She laid a hand over her gaping mouth and stared at the wounded man.
J-Jose? What happened to him? I-Is he...
"Jose?" she whimpered, leaning over him. She fumbled around for the light-switch and as the dull light illuminated the room she began checking him for wounds.
His torso was a mess of blood and torn flesh. Dried congealing puddles formed thick encrusted stains across his chest, his uniform glued to him by the fluids draining from the gaping wounds. His left arm was slack, the limb twisted beneath him. Triela had to roll the wounded agent on his side to free it. When she did she found trails of dried crimson flowing down to his palms and coating his fingers. The skin around his shoulder had been shredded by a bullet, a deep trench carved through the flesh and grated against bone.
His chest was rising and falling but barely. He was alive for now, but he was a mere mortal. There were no special machines implanted inside him. There was no laboratory for quick repairs. He was going to die unless he received treatment.
For any other girl her age, lifting Jose would have been quite difficult but Triela hefted the limp body almost effortlessly. She gently dropped him down on a bed and studied the life support machine. There were all manner of tubes and wires jutting out like ghostly tendrils. She had no idea what they were for but she knew they were important.
There wasn't enough time to waste.
Triela searched through the equipment and tools, searching for something, anything she could use to save his life. Jose was alive. For so long she had feared they were all dead, but seeing him had brought a brief glimmer of hope.
Surely the others were alive as well.
She had to find them...She had to save them...
But first, she had to deal with Jose.