Leila stood on top of the prefab structure, unable to shake the feeling she’d done this before.
She rappelled down a narrow exhaust shaft on a flexible cable attached to a port in her spine. Using implanted pitons in her hands and feet, she made her descent into the depths of the weapons lab.
This rogue planetoid possessed minimal orbital defenses. Her drop pod had cut through its thin atmosphere with remarkable ease, dodging scattered clusters of smart bombs and interceptor drones on patrol.
Advanced intel on the remote installation had been sparse. But as an agent saboteur of Algorab, she was prepared for anything.
When she neared the bottom of the shaft, she released the cable and clambered the rest of the way down spider-fashion, her cybernetic limbs propelling her at high speed.
She reached a secure hatch at the base of the shaft. Her index and middle fingers uncapped, and a pair of mechanical tendrils slithered out, plugging into ports next to the hatch. It snapped open, and she folded herself through like a master contortionist.
A map of the lab’s floorplan appeared in her field of vision, secure areas illuminated in pulsing red.
Despite her misgivings, the mission imperative was clear: infiltrate the weapons lab and sabotage its manufacturing capabilities at all costs.
Gorgonea Tertia—sworn enemies of her people—had violated half a dozen treaties, constructing this lab and a handful of other military installations within the DMZ. Now they must pay for their hubris.
Leila navigated a maze of corridors that led from the exhaust shaft into the heart of the building.
When she came to an intersection, she pushed the tip of her finger into her eye socket, prying the gelatinous orb loose and tossing it into the air, where it floated effortlessly.
She steered her eye around the corner and scanned for signs of hidden defenses.
In the corridor beyond, she detected pressure sensitive flooring, pneumatic spikes in the walls, and a pair of high caliber autogun turrets mounted to the ceiling, all of which she had anticipated and prepared for.
What she had not anticipated was an armor plated cyber-hound with thermal vision and implanted razors in its paws. It stood at the end of the corridor, saliva dripping from its mechanical jaws.
Someone had obviously made a few modifications to the lab’s defenses since her last recon sweep.
Leila activated her wrist guns, which unfolded from hidden compartments in her forearms, and stepped around the corner. She took out the two autoguns first, blasting them with ionic explosive rounds, then turned her attention to the cyber-hound.
She unleashed a barrage at the war beast, but her bullets slowed to a crawl before they reached their target, frozen in midair.
Forks of electric discharge crackled between the shells. They clattered to the floor, rendered useless by the cyber-hound’s magnetic repulsor shield.
Leila stowed her wrist guns and deployed a twelve inch blade from between her knuckles. She pushed off the floor and bounded from wall to wall like an acrobat, avoiding contact with the pressure sensitive plates.
The cyber-hound leaped at her, teeth gnashing, razor claws protracting from their sheaths like wicked knives.
Leila adjusted her time perception, slowing the attack by several factors.
The cyber-hound’s robotic eyes glowed furnace-red. Her blade crept toward it while her other arm moved to shield her face.
Instinct told her to stab it in the belly, the beast’s most vulnerable spot. But something in the back of her mind said to go for the throat instead.
At the last possible moment, she altered her angle of attack and pushed the blade into the cyber-hound’s throat.
Blood gushed from the wound.
She returned her perception to normal and landed in a crouch by a circular door that led to the manufacturing area. The cyber-hound tumbled to the floor, its limbs twitching.
Spikes shot out from the walls, impaling it. Something sparked in its neck. Fires burned inside, and the light in its eyes went out.
Leila stared at the skewered beast, wondering how she’d known to go for the throat instead of the belly.
The door irised open behind her, and she turned to see an expansive room filled with racks of warheads, a system of conveyor belts, and a robotic loading arm suspended from the rafters.
She withdrew her blade and replaced it with a pistol, which snapped into her hand from an internal holster.
Cautiously, she stepped into the room.
A tangle of corpses sprawled beside one of the storage racks, each one dressed in a sleek, armored skinsuit not unlike her own. No one told her there had been others…
She turned away, shaken.
A four-armed chimera dropped from the ceiling, each of its enormous hands gripping a different weapon. A pair of curving horns sprouted from its skull, and its tough purple skin glistened like leather.
Leila opened fire, but her bullets pinged off its organic armor.
One of its guns spat a seething laser, which cut a molten line in the floor by her feet. Her enhanced reflexes flung her away, and she landed near a stack of cargo containers.
It sprayed her with bullets. Before she could react, several of the rounds lodged in her internal armor mesh and detonated, scattering a storm of shrapnel through her guts.
She collapsed against one of the containers, blood and other fluids spilling out of her. The chimera stood over her, a look of weariness in its devilish eyes. It raised a pistol and shot her in the face.
Darkness…
Leila woke aboard her singleship, camouflaged in low orbit, below the satellite detection threshold. She stepped down from her charging platform and examined the weapons arranged on a table before her.
The mission imperative was clear: infiltrate the weapons lab and sabotage its manufacturing capabilities at all costs.
She selected her armament with care, pulled on her skinsuit, and proceeded to the drop pod—last in a row of eight, seven of which were inexplicably absent.
As she climbed into the pod, a flicker of doubt crossed her mind.
###
M.T. Preston, Jr. 