Final Target

Chapter 3

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Kharem strode into his operations room, nodded a greeting to both Hornet and Lomaz, and turned to the wall of screens.

He’d commandeered an empty room on the first level below ground, easy to reach from the Council building above, and had instructed Lomaz to set it up with the bare minimum of furniture. Beside the bank of screens there was a control desk to one side and a couple of chairs at the rear.

Yes, it was similar to Genna’s operations room, but he’d always appreciated that place‌—‌no fancy extras, and no distractions. It was a place for work and nothing else.

“What have you got?” he asked Hornet.

“Activity.” The warrior pointed to the central screens. “Warriors in those buildings. Been there for a couple of hours now.”

“They doing anything?”

Hornet shook his head. “Nothing visible. Got a feeling they’re building to something, though.”

Kharem nodded. Feelings could be tricky buggers, but Hornet wasn’t easily spooked, didn’t give in to his emotions. The warrior’s intuition hadn’t played Kharem false yet.

He turned to the desk, pointed to the warehouse on the screen. “Lomaz. Zoom in on that one, locate it on the map.”

“Not a problem.” Lomaz tapped away, and a red dot glowed on the map screen as the image altered. “Got auto-filters on, but I can change that if you want.”

“Auto’s fine.”

A good find, this Lomaz. Keen, worked hard, and intelligent. He’d been wasted under Garrick. At least Genna had seen his potential.

The warehouse on the screen was old, fairly small. Large metal doors hung open, and as the filters worked Kharem saw figures inside.

“Their wearing protection,” Hornet said. “Pulling on hoods.”

“Got packs on, too. They’re serious.”

And, as if on cue, the figures emerged.

They were warriors, and they moved with confident ease despite their body armour. Most wore tinted face-plates, making identification impossible.

A nameless, faceless mass. And they approached the Dome.

“Lomaz,” Kharem said, “We ready to give them trouble?”

“All systems primed. Sensors should kick in when they’re at a quarter kilometre, trigger the first defence.”

Kharem knew this anyway, but the confirmation brought a smile to his lips. So far, Authority’s warriors had remained too far for the defences to kick in, keeping themselves busy destroying various buildings further into the northern districts. Analysis had shown those locations to be exits from the many tunnels that riddled the area, including many on the old maps Aleph had deciphered.

That made strategic sense‌—‌seal the Dome and lay those inside under siege. But Kharem wondered if they avoided the dead zone at the edge of the district through fear of the weapons embedded in the Dome’s lattice.

Kharem had heard the tales of the s*******r in Red, of course, but only now did he understand how complete the Dome’s defences were. A network of Eyes and sensors monitored constantly, relaying information, always ready to trigger guns and worse. Although much of the work was automated, there was a team of techs tracking the data, now answering to Kharem, through Lomaz.

As far as he could tell, that team respected Lomaz. It was easy to see why. Having supervised warriors, the man could be firm, but there was a gentle, relaxed side to him as well. The tech teams respected him‌—‌the man wasn’t in the same league as Aleph, but he had better tech knowledge than most.

A good man to have on the team, that one.

Kharem returned his attention to the screens, watching the warriors saunter along the street that would bring them to the open land in front of the glass. And in another screen, more warriors emerged from a decrepit residential. These ones shuffled into positions along the edge of the dead zone, spread out and then dropped to their knees, raising weapons to the Dome‌—‌Series 5s, modified R-19s. Serious hardware.

As if that would make any difference. The glass was impenetrable. Even those old riots in Red had only managed a slight chip in one of the panes.

Along with the defences, Kharem had learnt about the glass itself. There were two layers, each of a different composition, and neither truly glass. Between them, these layers protected the Dome from blunt force, from explosives and fire, and also from chemical attacks.

It was incredible stuff, this misnamed glass, but there was no way to create it now. Too much knowledge had been lost since the chaos that spawned Horace Devin’s dominion, and then the Domes.

But the Domes remained, impervious to the ages.

Almost impervious. Kharem reminded himself that nothing lasted forever, that nothing was perfect.

The warriors from the warehouse reached the end of the street and slowed. With the feed zoomed in, Kharem could see the thin microphones that curled under their face-plates. He assumed they wore ear-pieces too.

“I don’t trust this,” Hornet said.

“It’s Authority. What’s to trust?”

“Fair point.” The warrior peered closer, pointed to one of the screens. “What’s that one got?”

One of the warriors on the edge of the dead zone lifted a long tube onto their shoulder.

“Lomaz, enhance screen five.”

The image blurred for a second, then came back sharper, some of the colours washed out but the weapon easy to see now.

“They think they can damage the glass with a rocket launcher?” Hornet said. “Doesn’t sound too clever.”

It didn’t. But this was Authority. They knew as much about the nature of the glass as anyone. Everything they did had a purpose.

“This all recording?” Kharem asked.

“Triple filed,” Lomaz said. “Not like we’ve got storage issues.” He paused. “You reckon they’re going to attack?”

“Doubt they’re here for a chat. Get ready with the defences.”

“On it.” Lomaz leaned over his desk screens, fingers hovering.

As if that were their cue, the warriors erupted into action.

They ran, into the wasteland beyond the buildings, across the rubble that surrounded the Dome.

Shots from the defence systems registered as flashes of light, and dust kicked up from the ground. One of the warriors stumbled, another fell. The majority ran on, weaving from side to side.

“Larger projectiles coming into play,” Lomaz said as a blur shot out beneath one of the Eyes.

More warriors fell. Some pulled themselves to their feet and ran on, but others lay on the ground, dark pools forming beneath their bodies.

Kharem allowed himself a smile. But only a small one. The warriors jerked as they ran, bullets finding targets, but their clothing absorbed most of the force.

“Almost close enough for heat,” Lomaz said.

Kharem watched, and analysed. The warriors approached one of the huge panes of glass, and now they pushed their heads forward, pulled their hoods down further.

The feeds burnt white as sheets of flame erupted from the Dome’s lattice. Tongued of fire raced toward the warriors, and for a moment Kharem could see nothing.

When his vision returned a couple of warriors lay on the ground, but most ran on.

“Those outfits flame-proof?” Hornet frowned. “Never heard of them before.”

“Give them another blast, Lomaz,” Kharem said.

Lomaz tapped, drenching the warriors in more flames. A couple staggered back, but the majority still raced toward the Dome, smoke wafting from their clothing.

“Again!”

Another flame, and this time Lomaz kept the pressure on long enough that the brightness forced Kharem to shield his eyes.

“Guns too!”

The flame extinguished, and the ground erupted as bullets struck. One warrior jerked back, spray erupting from the back of its head. Another spun to the ground, didn’t move.

“Give them everything,” Kharem said.

“Risk of overheating.”

“Then watch the data. I want them either bleeding out or fried.”

Lomaz nodded, turned back to his screens. Flame erupted in spurts, interspersed with gunfire.

And the warriors came closer. Ten, maybe fifteen were down, but three times that number ran on. As they approached they slipped the packs from their backs. The packs were dull grey, unharmed by the flames.

“We need them stopped!” Kharem growled as they reached the glass.

Lomaz shook his head. “Angle of the weapons won’t reach them.”

“You meant there’s a safe spot right at the edge of the Dome? Nobody thought that might be a problem?”

“Best I can do is more fire, but‌…‌doesn’t look like it has much effect.”

Kharem reined in his anger, knew it wasn’t Lomaz’ fault. “Do what you can.”

“Not like they can get through the glass,” Hornet said.

And Kharem wished he hadn’t said those words.

The angle from the Dome’s Eyes provided a top-down view of the warriors as they pushed their packs against the glass, evenly spread out over the base of the ten-meter pane. They all reached into the top, their hunched bodies shielding their actions.

“They’re setting explosives, aren’t they?” Hornet said.

“Looks that way.”

Then the warriors straightened, and ran back to the buildings. Lomaz chased them with fire and guns, brought another one down.

The feeds flared white as the packs exploded, forcing Kharem to shield his eyes again. One of the screens burst into static. Lomaz tapped frantically.

“Status!”

“One Eye down. Damage to the lower weapons.”

“What about the glass?”

“Waiting for diagnostic.”

The intense brightness dissipated, leaving dancing points of colour in Kharem’s vision. That didn’t prevent him seeing the warriors bringing their rocket launchers round, tilting their heads to look along the sights.

The launchers fired, a ripple of flashes. The lower section of the glass faded behind smoke. Lomaz swore under his breath.

The warriors lowered their rocket launchers.

“Need to know what happened,” Kharem said.

“They‌…‌they shot at the Dome.”

“Status! Have they done any damage?”

“Right. Checking.”

The man wiped his brow. He tapped his screens, head shaking, eyes widening.

“That can’t be,” he muttered.

Kharem took a slow breath, calmed himself down. “Tell me.”

Lomaz turned, his face pale. “Only got preliminary reports, but‌…‌inner layer of glass is unaffected. Outer layer’s still standing.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Kharem forced his eyes onto the screens, where the dead warriors lay, where the survivors had already disappeared into the shadows. “I need to know!”

Lomaz’ throat bobbed and his head shuddered. “I‌…‌I think I can show you.” He tapped again, and the central screen flicked onto a new feed, one that showed the base of the glass, where the packs of explosives had rested.

The glass was tough. They said it was impenetrable. The riots in Red had only managed a small chip.

The feed auto-focused, and Kharem stared at the c***k that ran from the ground, snaked its way along a good half of the lower section of the pane.

Kharem took in a breath, held it for a moment.

“Looks like the Dome’s not as secure as we thought,” he said as a chill ran through his body.