“Blue Scout, this is Base,” a woman’s voice said. Commander Jane Hargrove called the shots on the night’s operation. “Are you in position?”
“I will be.” Leah jumped up ten feet easily with the +Flex nanowire that ran throughout the suit. The suit was cutting-edge, ahead of anything else that had been reached inside the military.
Only Leah knew that the suits, while serviceable and as good as anything she’d ever used in clandestine ops, were no match for the sheer onslaught and defensive capability of Templar armor. After all, the Templar designer of the suits had given the schematics to the military. That secretive order had kept the best for themselves. She didn’t blame them. With the enemies they’d planned on facing, they’d needed an edge.
Leah caught hold of the ladder and pulled herself up easily. The suit augmented her strength and speed, putting her far ahead of the abilities of Olympic champions. Almost effortlessly, she ran up thirty-three flights of stairs in the darkness. All power to Central London had been lost when the Hellgate opened at St. Paul’s.
At the rooftop, she slid the Poseidon from her back and crawled onto the roof. The LiquidBalance soles of her boots, kneepads, and elbow pads protected her from the rough roofing material and kept her movements soundless. The nonorganic, frictionless liquid didn’t deaden her sense of touch, though. She felt the surface, but she didn’t suffer injury.
Leah lay prone on her stomach and stared at the dome-shaped white building below. Londoners simply called it the O2. Originally, it had been called the Millennium Dome and had been built to celebrate London’s third millennium. Unfortunately, it hadn’t proved to be the cash cow investors had thought it would be. The enterprise had since been renovated into an entertainment center that housed shops and a sports arena.
The white dome had been constructed of polytetrafluo-roethylene, a synthetic fluoropolymer that was lighter than the air trapped inside the dome. A network of support cables held it in place. Now, though, several holes gaped in the material and it looked like a battered wasp’s nest.
The look suited. From what Hargrove’s intel officers had discovered, several Darkspawn had taken up residence there and converted the dome into a weapons manufacturing plant.
Leah and her group intended to cripple the demons’ operation.
If they could. At best, it would be a holding maneuver.
“Blue Scout,” Hargrove called again. Irritation edged the commander’s words. Or it might have been fear. Even after four years of fighting the demons, the fear didn’t go away.
“I’m here.” Leah leaned her cheek against the Poseidon’s buttstock. The electronic connection juiced immediately, and the rifle’s telescopic sights fed directly into her right monocular. Her left eye still swept the streets below. Mentally, through years of training, she switched from left eye to right eye without closing either of them.
“All right,” Hargrove said, “send in the drones.”
Leah put a hand to the side of her helmet and clicked the control pad. The vision in her left eye changed slightly as it acquired a greenish cast. DRONE/BOT TRACKING ENABLED tracked across the upper left of her vision. She needed to be able to identify friendlies down in the battlezone.
Almost immediately, dozens of green lights lifted from the surrounding neighborhood. All of them were bots and drones created by Agency tech. Before the demonic invasion, several of the designs had only been computer plans or prototypes. Now the Agency readily produced them. They just couldn’t get manufactured quickly enough.
Some of the bots flew through the air like miniature airplanes, while others sped across the rock-strewn terrain with oversized tires, like ATVs. It looked like the attack of children’s toys.
Except that no child’s toy was ever as lethal as the bots. They were equipped with heavy weapons—HARP rifles, flamethrowers, grenade launchers, and other munitions—and operated on the run by the cyber kill squads within the group.
Leah intended to pick off targets that showed up. She forced her breath out, relaxing into that state of near hypnosis she’d learned when she’d first trained as a sniper.
The first wave of bots painted enemy targets with infrared beams. Drones followed immediately behind and opened fire on the designated targets.
With calm detachment, Leah picked up on the infrared targeting beams and tracked one to her first target. No one knew how many Darkspawn worked within the wrecked dome. In bygone days, thousands of humans had shopped and watched sporting events there.
At first glance, the Darkspawn looked like starfish. They had pointed, conical heads, gray-green skin, and multiple eyes on their flat faces. They stood on massive, three-toed lizard’s claws that could rip and destroy.
Leah’s finger curled round the Poseidon’s trigger naturally. Certain of the target, she pulled through the trigger and rode out the recoil. A beam of energy—something the techsmiths had designated “spectral” because it interrupted the electromagnetic and electrical fields of a human and a demon—blasted out for just a moment.
The Darkspawn staggered back. Leah shot it again and watched it fall back once more. The demon never recovered this time. One of the tracked drones locked on to it and spewed Greek Fire over it. The flames sucked the demon down and he rolled across the ground in an effort to put them out. Then it collapsed.
Leah moved on to the next target, a Darkspawn Scout. The designations had come down through informants the commander had among the Cabalists. They’d agreed with the information Leah had gotten from the Templar histories Simon Cross had let her have access to.
She pulled the trigger again and again, riding out the recoil and staying locked on to the target.
