Wastelands, page 13
I paused, the beacon's identity code burning a hole in my memory. "We document it. We take the control box. Flag the location, then we move out." An empty battlesuit is heavy as hell; I didn't want to drag it across the scrub lands while trying to evade raiding parties. They were custom jobs, essentially useless to anyone else anyway.
"How far behind are the CMLs?" I asked. I knew we had bypassed them in the crazy battle to get away.
"Half a day, they were loaded down. Slow as shit," Koog said.
I nodded, tossing that plan. The procedure was methodical, almost robotic. We recorded the suit's location and condition, salvaged the helmet and a few other vitals. Rifle was gone, as were most of the ammo stores. We could and did extract the black box—the suit's data recorder. It was second nature to me as a unit C.O., but every action felt like betrayal.
As we worked, I couldn't shake the image of the teammate who once lived inside that metal shell. I knew him, laughed with him, fought beside him. Now, all that was left was a hollow shell in the dirt. What would have made him abandon his battlesuit? Was he dead? Injured?
The beacon still pulsed faintly on my HUD. "One of us," I murmured under my breath, a solemn acknowledgment known only to me. It was a signal meant to lead a team back to its fallen member, but all it did now was mark the presence of a ghost.
"We'll find out what happened," I promised the silent armor, the vow for my ears alone.
"Kovach?" Riker's voice broke through my thoughts. "We good?"
"Yeah," I said, my voice steady despite the storm inside. "Let's move. And keep your eyes sharp. If they took down one of ours, they won't hesitate to come after more."
The armor stood alone as we left, a fading beacon on my HUD, a silent siren call to a squad that used to be whole. It was a brutal reminder of our reality—sometimes, all that's left of you in this world is a set of footprints leading to nowhere and a suit of armor to mark where you fell.
The empty suit haunted me as we pressed on, each step away feeling like an abandonment. That suit belonged to someone I knew, a member of my own team. A Banshee. I should’ve been able to do more than just leave them there, unclaimed in the wilderness. ‘Priest’ Bishop Taggert was a brother, a friend and maybe the best damn soldier I’d ever served with.
Was he dead? I had no idea, but I couldn’t think of anything else that would have caused him to leave his battlesuit behind. I’d left him up on the Stone Mountain. He’d been injured in the attempted boarding raid and was heading for the Medbay. What in the holy fuck was he doing down here in the wastelands?
"We should bury it," Lux's voice broke through, small and uncertain even as it boomed from the Decimator.
"No time," I said, curt and final, hating the practicality that this world forced upon us. "Besides, we don't even know if he's truly gone. Could've been taken. Could still be alive."
The thought did little to ease the tension gripping my chest, a tension I knew the others felt, too. Riker was quiet, and Koog's usually animated demeanor was subdued as we traversed the rugged terrain.
"I'll access the black box later," I said, needing to believe there was a chance for answers.
The beacon eventually disappeared from my HUD as we moved out of range, but its echo lingered like a ghost touch. We walked in silence, the unspoken pact between us stronger than ever. My team didn't leave anyone behind—not really. We carried them with us, in memory if not in body.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
The suit we left behind was one of ours; Priest's to be exact. The guy had a strength and dry humor that could shake the cabin and a right hook that I'd seen level more than a few rowdy types back at base. Now, all that was left of him was an empty shell sitting silent in the dirt.
I kept my eyes on the rough terrain, my hand automatically pinging Ada for the umpteenth time. "Ada, if you can hear me, give me something on Priest's last moments. Anything."
The comms stayed dead, and I cussed under my breath. The damn AI was probably fried, but I couldn’t shake the hope that she was still in there somewhere, listening, processing.
Koog caught my eye, a silent question there. I just shook my head. Now wasn't the time to get into it.
Lux’s Decimator trudged on beside us, the kid’s control of the machine unwavering despite the somber mood. I could tell he wanted to ask questions, too, to understand why we'd left Priest's suit like some forgotten war monument. I didn't have the answers he was looking for.
"Kovach, we’re still exposed out here. We need a destination," Riker said.
I grunted in response, my gaze never leaving the path ahead. "We find who took Priest's body, we find out what happened," I said, the hate in my voice low but resolute.
The suit's control box was with us, a small piece of tech that felt heavy as a boulder. I had slotted it into my own suit's secure storage, a constant reminder pressing against my back. I wanted badly to plug it in and see what had happened, but just as badly I wanted to fling it away from me.
Priest was a friend, as good of a friend as I'd ever had in the service. Like Hinge, or Halo, or Bayou. We'd become family over the years. There'd been others of course, Robot, Bond, Darkman. Even further back were Heist and Chops. Men and women who'd given everything to be drop-troops.
I pinged Ada again, the habit a stubborn tick. "Ada, come on. You've got to give me something."
Then, a flicker. My HUD glitched for a split second, a ghost in the machine. It was the barest whisper of a sign, but it was enough to fuel the hope that had been threatening to die in my chest.
"She's there," I murmured to myself. "She's got to be."
We didn't slow our pace, didn't dare to. Each step forward was a step away from Priest's resting place, but a step toward unraveling the mystery of his disappearance. In the back of my mind, the silent signals of the black box and Ada's potential presence churned into a storm of determination.
The Witch was in and out of our sight lines but never very far away. The rest of us just kept putting one foot in front of the other. Trying to be ready for whatever came next.
My suit felt heavier with each step, the burden of Priest's unspoken story weighing on me. Every once in a while, my fingers would twitch towards the comm link, instinctively attempting to reach Ada again. "Come on, Ada. If you're in there, show me a sign."
The silence mocked me, but I kept the hope alive, buried deep beneath layers of armor and resolve.
Lux's Decimator powered through the terrain, its hulking form a bastion of strength and a constant reminder of the firepower at our disposal. The boy had grown quiet, the usual chatter replaced with a solemnity that didn’t fit his young years.
Koog was to my left, his suit's sensors panning the area in a never-ending sweep. "We need to set up for the night soon, Kovach. We're all running on fumes."
He was right. We needed to rest, re-calibrate, reassess. But we were still being hunters, and Priest's fate was nagging me to keep moving. I had no illusions that he was still alive. Out here without a suit—no way.
I pinged Ada once more, the action becoming as reflexive as breathing now. And then, there it was again—a flicker, a subtle shift in the suit's systems that hadn't been there before. It was the ghost of a response, a nudge in the code that could have been nothing more than a glitch—or a whisper from Ada buried beneath the wreckage.
"She's in there," I whispered again, my voice not betraying the surge of adrenaline that shot through me. "Ada's still kicking."
Lux perked up at that, the Decimator's head swiveling ominously in my direction. "Really? Can you get her back online?"
"Not sure, kid," I admitted, my gaze still locked on the various readouts in my HUD. "But I'm damn well going to try."
Nightfall crept upon us like a thief, and we managed to find a reasonably defensible position against a craggy outcrop. I set the black box down beside me, its inert casing holding the last moments of Priest's life within its digital confines.
Riker and Koog took first watch, their suits merging with the darkness as they kept a vigilant eye on the perimeter. I stayed awake, the rest of my team catching some shuteye, my fingers dancing over the suit's controls as I coaxed and cajoled the systems.
"Ada, if you can hear me in there, fight your way back," I muttered, every failed attempt a fresh frustration. I had no idea how an embedded AI might fight nor what it would fight against—I just wanted her to know I was rooting for her. Of course, she was in my head, she already knew.
As the night deepened and the first watch ended, the stars overhead seemed to watch with a cold indifference to our struggle. But beneath the quiet, there was a rhythm, a pattern, something that had shifted ever so slightly.
At one point, I felt more than saw the WitchWalker come and sit beside me. I'm not sure what, if anything, she was trying to say, but I removed my suit’s glove and placed my bare hand on her arm. She didn't flinch away. I could see the bruises and cuts her bindings had left. I held up a small Medbot kit, and she shook her head. She wanted them left, maybe to show what humans had done. Her enemy was not the new world, it was the people from the old.
And then, just as a hint of dawn began to touch the horizon, a double chime—a response in my HUD, faint but unmistakable. A possible sign of life from Ada, a chirping pulse amidst the silence.
"I knew it," I breathed, a smile finding its way across my face for the first time in what felt like years. "Come on, girl, you can do this!"
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
The first light of dawn was painting the sky with streaks of color when Ada finally broke through the silence. The voice in my helmet was the sweetest damn sound I'd heard since this whole mess started.
"Kovach?" Her voice was a crackle of static at first, then clear as the morning. "Apologies for the radio silence. Encountered a dampening field. I've been trying to—"
I cut her off, a laugh bubbling up through the grim layers of dirt and weariness. "You're one hell of a babe to wake up to, Ada!"
There was a pause, the AI processing my words. "I'll take that as a compliment, given the circumstances."
Lux stirred in the Decimator, its sensors lighting up with renewed life. "Ada's back?" he asked, his sleepy voice a mix of hope and skepticism.
"Yeah, kid," I replied, glancing over at the Warbot. "And hopefully, she's got news."
Ada chimed in, her tone all business now. "I've localized the source of the dampening field. With some maneuvering, I should be able to triangulate its origin. Until it is off, your comms will not reliably reach anyone beyond."
Koog straightened up beside me. "That's our ticket then. Find this fucking thing, shut it down, radio for help, and maybe we'll get some goddamn peace for a change."
I nodded, tapping commands into my HUD to sync with Ada's systems. "Do it. Let's see where this rabbit hole leads."
Riker, who had been fiddling with his rifle, looked up. "We're really doing this? Chasing down some ghost signal? You trust your suit’s AI that much?"
"It's more than a ghost signal," I shot back, my voice firm. "It's a piece of this puzzle. We find the source, we find answers. And yes, I trust my AI with my life. She is part of Banshee. This is not my suit’s battle AI, this is Ada."
The optimism in my tone didn't quite mask the grim reality of our situation, but it was something to go on—a lead in a case that had been cold since the world turned upside down.
Ada’s voice was a constant in my ear, guiding our steps. "Adjusting your course. One of the signal sources is approximately ten clicks northwest of your current position."
Lux piloted the Decimator with renewed vigor, the kid's resilience a stark contrast to the battered landscape around us. Koog and Riker fell into step, their movements synchronized with the rhythm of my own suit.
We were a unit again, a team with a lead and an AI that had our backs. The world was still a shit-show, sure, but now it felt like maybe we had a fighting chance.
As we trekked through the broken hills, I kept my focus sharp, the beacon in my HUD a guiding star. Ada was back, we were on the hunt, and whatever was waiting for us out there, we were ready to face it head-on.
"Let's light up the assholes who think they can keep Banshee Team in the dark," I muttered, the edge of a smile tugging at my lips. "Time to bring the thunder."
With Ada’s guidance, we moved with purpose across the scarred terrain, our suits kicking up dust that had seen too many sunsets. The hills of Idaho had become our proving ground, and with every click forward, the anticipation built like a charge in the air before a storm.
“Triangulating now.” Ada’s voice was a calm presence in the midst of potential chaos. “Keep your heading. The dampening field’s source is coming from multiple points, but this one should be within visual range shortly.”
Koog’s suit, an armored behemoth built for endurance, led the way with me at his side, while Lux’s Decimator loomed behind, a giant amongst men. Riker’s eyes never stopped moving, darting from shadow to shadow, his trigger finger twitching with readiness.
“Kovach, you sure about this?” Lux asked, the Decimator’s sensors swiveling as if mirroring his gaze. “Feels like we’re walking into a freakin’ trap.”
I couldn’t blame the kid for his doubt. “Ada’s got us this far,” I said. “Let’s see where she’s taking us.”
The hills gave way to a small clearing, and there it was—a structure half-hidden by the landscape, its tech pulsing with a silent hum that spoke of power and secrets.
“That’s our target,” I announced, the silhouette of the building etched against the sky. “Possible source of the dampening field, and likely a whole lot more.”
Ada interjected on the team comms, “I’m detecting electronic signatures, defensive systems. Caution advised.”
Riker snorted. “When do we ever not proceed with caution?”
The mood was tense, but underneath it, there was a current of something like exhilaration. We were back in the game, not just surviving, but taking the fight to whatever asshats had decided to fuck with us.
We approached the structure in a diamond formation with the WitchWalker in back, every sensor and weapon system primed for whatever hell might decide to break loose. The building looked like a fortress, part of an older military installation that had somehow remained hidden, its purpose now a mystery we were intent on solving.
“Eyes up, Banshee,” I murmured, my HUD lighting up with targeting reticles. “Let’s see what’s behind door number one.”
Ada’s systems integrated seamlessly with mine, her algorithms working overtime to wirelessly bypass the security. “Accessing...” she announced, and with a hiss and a groan of protesting metal, the door slid open, revealing darkness within.
We crossed the perimeter as one and stepped inside, our lights piercing the gloom. The air was stale, heavy with the scent of oil and old electricity. Screens blinked to life, systems awakening from a slumber at our intrusion.
“Bleep me, it’s an old NORAD nexus command center,” I breathed, taking in the banks of equipment and old strategic maps displayed on the main screen. "This is the source of the comms field?" I asked my AI.
"I don't think so, Joe. I am detecting no large broadcast apparatus, no signal emitters of any kind, now that we are here."
My own brain started churning through possibilities. An abandoned, but otherwise secure location. Defensive perimeter that let us walk right through and an apparent red herring that guided my suddenly active AI here instead of the actual source of the dampening field. What it added up to was a trap.
“So, you were fooled?” I’d wanted my AI back, but I needed to be able to trust her advice.
"You don't believe we are here by accident, Prowler?"
"No, Ada, I think someone wanted us to find this place."
Koog let out a low whistle. “Looks like we just hit the fucking jackpot.”
Lux remained silent, the Decimator standing guard at the entrance, its weapons locked and loaded for any who might follow.
"Sumo, scout," I ordered. The husky was gone in a flash.
“We’ll secure the perimeter,” Riker said, moving off to check the corners of the room with practiced efficiency.
I approached the main console, Ada’s presence a ghost in the machine, guiding my hands. “Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding,” I said, tapping into the data stream.
The screen flickered, lines of code cascading before settling into coherent data. Coordinates, troop movements, supply lines—like a map had just been unfurled before us, detailing a world of military precision that had been hidden from view.
"Ada, are you making any sense of all this? Banshee Team,” I said, my voice steady, “there’s a lot of data here, but it doesn't feel right. Stay sharp, guys, and somebody get eyes on the girl."
Sumo barked twice, and Koog’s voice echoed back, “Prowler, you need to come now.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
The command center was a cold mausoleum of data and past strategies, the screens blinking like the eyes of the dead. I was elbows deep in the intel, each piece another part of the puzzle, each file a potential key to our next move. This was what we needed—a clear shot at understanding the shit-storm we'd been wading through. Maybe this wasn't a trap. Instead, perhaps someone was wanting to show me something…something important.
"Kovach," Koog's voice cut through my focus, insistent but oddly strained. "Come on, Boss, we need you."
I was barely listening, my eyes scanning the data streams, absorbing troop patterns and supply lines that hadn't been active for years. "Not now, Koog," I mumbled. "I've got—"
"Kovach!" The sharpness in his tone finally pierced the fog of my concentration. "It's Priest. He's here."
Those words hit like a sniper's bullet, clean and true and impossible. I spun around, my suit reacting with me, sensors flaring as I sought out Koog's position.
