Fireteam Delta, J. Halpin [online e book reading .txt] 📗

must have noticed Summers’ expression, because she continued. “If she’s already . . . affected, then perhaps it would be best to make use of it—for her safety, if nothing else.”

“Absolutely fucking not.”

Asle sat in silence for a long moment.

“I want to be useful.” She looked back at Summers. “You don’t need me. You tried to leave me because you thought I’d die. If I’m like you, then it won’t matter. I’ll be strong. Enough that I won’t lose anyone again.”

Summers paused at that. He watched as Synel laid a hand on Asle’s head.

“I take back what I said. It’s a terrible idea. If that’s what this is about, then I’d suggest you try harder in your lessons.”

“And you don’t need to do anything for us. You don’t owe us anything. Besides which, that colonel out there might shoot you on sight if she thinks you’re like . . . like I am.”

“And now that I’m thinking of it, it was controlled by those . . . things,” Synel reminded. “The gods only know if it would make your . . . condition worse.”

That gave Summers something else to think about. Even Asle seemed surprised at the realization.

Synel considered another moment before reaching over and grabbing the bag without another word. Asle looked as though she’d pout, but did nothing.

“Keeping options open is fine, but this is too much of an unknown.”

Asle looked away, seeming a little embarrassed.

“Fine.”

Summers sighed as the bag was tucked neatly behind Synel.

In truth, he’d been pushing Asle’s condition to the back of his mind for the last few days. Now, knowing that she’d likely have to deal with everything he was going through, he was less than comforted.

He’d come to terms with what was happening to him. Even if he’d bought himself years when he’d torn the hamr out of his brain, it was a losing battle. As long as he was alive, it would eventually win. He didn’t want that for Asle. If nothing else, he didn’t want her to have a constant reminder of it.

They’d have answers soon, at least. And maybe, if they were lucky, something that could help them. At the very least, he could trust the army to put him down before he hurt his friends.

“I can see something up ahead,” Cortez called over.

Summers craned his neck to see the easily recognizable silhouette of a base up ahead: concrete watchtowers framing a base with high walls. As they got closer, he could see there were holes in it, visible even at this distance, with entire sides that looked to have collapsed.

Then he saw something he wasn’t expecting. Angled directly at them was the unmistakable shape of two missile transport trucks, their payload looking pointedly toward the road they were traveling.

“Son of a bitch . . .” Cortez muttered.

Summers was sure the army would put him down if he was ever a danger to them. He’d just have to hope he lasted that long.

<<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>><<>>

“Jesus Christ,” Nowak murmured as he looked through a slit in the APC’s side.

They’d seen a few odd sights on their final approach to the base, most of which was the perfectly cut, geometric debris in their way.

“Just like the portal back at base . . .” Cortez muttered, staring at the wreckage.

Cortez rounded a spherical chunk that looked as though it had been scooped from the land. Something in the back of Summers’ mind noted the fact it was about as large as a tank.

Now that he was thinking about it, the army had built a machine that tore a hole between worlds. They’d seen what happened when that portal failed. It made sense there would be signs of their “practice runs.”

But this was too messy, too deliberate for some experiment.

“Am I supposed to just drive us through the, uh, gate?” Cortez eyed the open hole in the base’s walls.

“No need.”

Summers turned at the familiar voice behind him.

The voice of the thin man.

“We’ll be cutting this trip short.”

He lurched to the side as Cortez slammed on the brakes.

Then the world around them shifted.

Chapter 42: Trust Issues

Summers heard the report of a rifle. At the same moment, the APC lurched from some kind of impact.

He felt a body slam into him, and then, suddenly, everything was spinning.

Before he could recover, the still mangled arm of the thin man grabbed his head. And in an instant, a black, inky substance washed over him.

The thin man had likely chosen to take out the biggest threat first. Considering that Summers was tired, and still very injured, it wasn’t a terrible plan.

Fortunately for Summers, it was still a mistake.

Summers gripped the black mass, his world lighting up as every part of the thin man’s body became an extension of his own.

Then, he willed it to stop. Every muscle, every nerve, anything he could sense. Summers could smell burning skin—whether that was the thin man’s or his own wasn’t important.

The world stopped for just an instant. He looked up at the frozen form of the thin man, inches away.

“Guys—?”

Summers looked for the others, only to realize that he wasn’t in the APC anymore. A strained glance showed that he was, in fact, about thirty feet away from it.

He must have been slow on the uptake, because a handful of soldiers were already pointing their rifles at him.

“Hold fire! Hold fire!” the colonel’s voice shouted over the others.

Summers would have thanked her, but the strain of keeping the thin man still was taking everything he had. He was fading fast.

The barrel of a gun pressed against the thin man’s head.

“You’re going to stop whatever the fuck it is you’re doing to my friend, or I’m putting more than a few holes