Obsidian's War The Winter City
Chapter Thirteen

When Gel emerged from Jan’s interview booth, Sylvester and guardsman Ralph were exchanging shots with Hoodies in the stairwell.

“How’s Dawlish?” he asked Alyssa.

“Not so good,” said the medic. “She’s stable for now but there’s internal damage. We need medivac.”

“We’ve got some travelling to do first. Keep an eye on her signs. The Mule-Synth can carry her. Energy levels still good, Synth?”

“Still good,” said the Synth. It had limited voice response.

“Okay, Cliffe, tell those two at the door to throw a couple of grenades and follow us. Theo, Parkinson, you’re leading.”

“Sure, Skip, leading where?” asked Theo, looking around. They were exchanging fire through the one exit he knew of.

“Through there,” Gel pointed at the tunnel leading to the Gagrim temple – a tunnel opening of about man height in the smooth concrete which lined the sub-basement. The soldiers had kept an eye on the tunnel, but no one had come out of it since they had been there.

“Plans don’t show a way out, Skip,” said Theo.

“The AI says there’s a way, so we’ll try it. Let’s move people.”

***

Gel dropped the tray and swung the single stick baton with all his strength, hitting the thug on the side of the head at eye level, just as he bit down on the pastry.

The thug yelled and punched Gel instinctively. The blow was half strength and caught Gel on his upper chest, but it was powerful enough to throw the soldier against the opposite side of the corridor, feeling as if he been stomped on by an elephant. He peeled himself off the wall to find his opponent holding his eye with one hand and drawing a gun from a shoulder holder with the other. Some part of Gel’s mind noted that his opponent was left handed before he struck again, hitting the thug’s forearm. His opponent yelped but, amazingly, continued to draw his pistol. Gel hit him again, this time opting for the shoulder near the neck. His opponent left off holding his head with his right in favour of trying to hit Gel. The soldier blocked the strike and dropped the stick to grab the thug’s left wrist, with the man still holding his pistol despite the hits he had taken. They struggled. The soldier part of Gel noted, in passing, that the pistol was a 9mm Smith & Wesson and looked to be the genuine article imported from Earth. More importantly the safety was off. With the advantage of leverage Gel could pin the man for a time, but he was bound to lose. He got his finger on the trigger of the pistol and pulled it, just as the thug from downstairs appeared in the corridor.

“Hey Humpy,” said the thug, before the gun went off with a deafening boom, sending a bullet whistling down the corridor and making the second thug dive for cover. Gel pulled the trigger again. Sending a second shot into the roof.

That should bring the police.

Gel pulled away, kneeing his opponent in the groin. He picked up his stick as his opponent doubled over in agony and hit the man’s arm again, wrenched the pistol out of his hand then thumped him again on the side of the head with all his strength. The blow would have felled an ox, but it just made Humpy stagger to one side and scream “shithead”, giving Gel time to open the door to the prisoner’s room and get in.

The main feature of the spacious, elegant room beyond was a double bed on which lay a woman, her head in a bag, hands and ankles bound with tape. Her ankles were bound to the bed post with more tape. Gel slammed the door shut behind him, not that he thought it would slow his opponent down much and snatched the bag off the woman’s head. It was Even, mouth taped shut, wearing, the soldier noted in passing, a fetching short gold chain mail skirt and brief gold halter top.

Even’s eyes widened in recognition and she made a sound behind her tape, as Gel put the gun’s muzzle right up against the tape biding the singer’s legs to the bed and fired twice, making sure the shots missed Even and went into the mattress, just as the thug-gorilla from the hallway smashed through the door, without bothering to open it.

“I’m gunna mess you up,” he said and lunged for the soldier.

Gel sidestepped, wacked his opponent on the side of the skull with the pistol, as that hand was closer, then turned and smashed the bedroom’s window pane with it. He threw the weapon sideways – a frisbee like throw - with all his strength through the smashed window. The weapon sailed over the balcony and thumped into the front lawn within sight of two men he could see at the gate. As they were followed by a police synth Gel thought them to be the detectives from the surveillance car responding to the sounds of shots.

“Police assistance required,” he screamed. “People in trouble upstairs.”

Now the police had an excellent reason to enter and search the building, without having to bother with warrants.

His opponent, shaking his head, lunged again but was still half blinded and in agony. Gel side stepped again and used his stick to hit his stumbling opponent’s concrete skull. The thug yelped but kept going, turning towards the soldier. Gel swung again. His opponent tried to duck but managed to put his jaw in the way of the stick’s bulbous end and fell heavily. Finally!

Even had swung her legs off the bed and was standing up, ankles still bound, when Gel stooped and threw her over his shoulder. No time for anything else.

“Mmmmph,” she said behind the gag. She sounded indignant.

“Shut up,” he said, carrying her to the door, which he reached just as the thug from the reception hall arrived from the other direction, gun drawn. He was not expecting Gel coming the other way. The soldier smashed the knob of his stick down on the muscle of the gun arm knocked the gun to one side and kept going to head butt the thug, Even’s attractive posterior just beside his head. The thug yelled then fell with Gel and Even on top of him. He obligingly fired his gun, the bullet going harmlessly into the wall. The soldier threw Even to one side.

“Mmmmph” she said again. Gel got the distinct impression she was not happy.

He thumped the thug on the Adam’s apple with his stick, wrenched the gun out of his hand as the man choked and threw it down the corridor.

“Police up here,” he yelled.

He grabbed Even, threw her over his shoulder again, kicked his opponent in the side of the head for good measure and ran.

***

At the entrance to the tunnel Gel paused to fire two HE rounds from his Dart Gun at the stairway exit over the heads of Parkinson and Ralph to cover their withdrawal, then plunged into the darkness. Bored out of living rock the tunnel had nothing in it apart from a utilities pipe, an air duct and a few light fixtures which kept the place in twilight, but that still made it a claustrophobic fit for Gel. The feeling was made all the worse by the thought that the Gagrim-Hoodies had only to block the other end to force them to surrender.

“Hurry, guys, he said aloud, his voice echoing in the tunnel. “We don’t want to be stuck here.”

Gel knew that the tunnel was about five hundred metres long but it seemed, in his imagination to stretch into infinity, until he thought he had done nothing else in his life but to shuffle along, bent over, close to the backside of the force’s synth carrying Dawlish. Parkinson and Ralph were directly behind him, occasionally looking behind to see whether the Hoodies had worked out where they had gone.

As the tunnel was the only other place they could have gone, it might not take them long. The Hoodies could also call whoever was at the other end. Gel considered cutting the utilities duct but thought they probably had other means of getting a message through, and that the move might annoy Jan – an important consideration.

Finally, a circle of light grew into an exit, and they stepped out into a dimly lit, square chamber one end of which opened onto a vast hall of rectangular columns, about the height of the columns on Greek temples on Earth. But unlike those columns they were not decorated in any way. The columns were all straight or seemingly straight and square, set at regular intervals as far as they could see, with no variations, coloring, etching, statues, or decoration of any kind. Deep in this array of columns was an area that seemed to glow.

“That’s the main temple area, the Holy of Holies,” said Gel, indicating the light. “The temple was carved out of rock deep underground when the Gagrim knew their bodies would not survive. This is one side of the temple, there is a grand entrance further off to the left. We’re going off to the right.”

“I’d like to look at that main temple area,” said Dr Addanc.

“Dr Addanc, we’re desperate escapees, not tourists,” snapped Gel. “We’ve gotta roll. C’mon guys.”

“But it’ll just take a few moments,” the spy protested. The group automatically followed Gel, ignoring him. After a couple of moments looking at the light and then at the group, Dr Addanc reluctantly followed the group.

***

Gel charged across the corridor to another door which was also unlocked and opened onto a bedroom on the other side of the house. This room was smaller than the one he had been in but also featured a double bed on which a girl lay, taped up much like Even. He went back to the corridor, in time to hear the police say, “Drop that weapon!” His very recent opponent have picked up his gun again. All the better. Another talking point for the man’s interrogation.

“Police, girl held captive in this room,” he yelled. “Door is open.”

With Even still on his shoulder and still making protesting noises behind her tape, Gel was about to use his stick to smash a full length window when he realised that there was a door which opened onto the house’s top storey balcony, and it was unlocked. He stepped onto the balcony, threw his baton to the ground below then clambered over the railing, holding Even, grabbed one of the nicely painted vertical wooden poles that made up the balcony railing and let his hand slide down. He hung in space, for a moment, still a couple of metres off the ground – the grand house had high ceilings - then realised there was nothing for it but to let go. He fell heavily, dropping Even and ending up on his hands and knees.

“Mmmmph,” said Even glaring at him.

“Hold on,” he said. He picked up Eve and his baton and dashed for the side of the house, stepping onto the unrailed ground floor balcony and out of sight, just as a plain clothes detective appeared on the upper storey balcony to look into the garden below.

As Gel carried Even around the side of the house, he could hear police sirens. The soldier glimpsed several men, senior crime figures, emerge from a door only to be met by two more plains clothes detectives coming up through the back garden. If the newcomers saw Gel and Even vanishing around the corner, they had no time to spare for them.

Gel propped Even up against the wall and ripped the tape off her mouth.

“Youch!” she said, indignantly. She had the sense to be indignant quietly. “You dropped me twice!”

“Sorry. No time to cut you loose up there.”

Gel got out a small, fold out pocket knife he had recently taken to carrying with him, and started cutting the tape from Even.

“What’s with the tux?” she exclaimed as he freed her hands.

“I was at a cousin’s wedding when Courtney called. I got roped into the bridal party at the last minute. Courtney knew the address too.”

“Anyway, thanks,” she said, in a softer tone, as he freed her ankles. “Not many girls get rescued by a guy in a tux. You look well in it.”

“Speaking of appearance,” said Gel, putting his hands on her waist. “I like the show girl costume. What’s the deal with this?”

“The club was just trying different costumes for different songs. I had a coat over this when I came out of the club. That’s when they grabbed me. I dunno what happened to the coat.”

Gel took off his coat and handed it to Even. “Put that on and as far as anyone knows you’re wearing a club dress. Now, unless you really want to explain everything to the police, and I’d prefer not to, we have to figure out how to leave without attracting undue attention.”

“Over the fence to that house,” said Even, pointing to the brick side fence. “No lights on. We just walk out of the front gate.”

“Sounds good,” said Gel. “I’ll help you up to the top.”

“Don’t drop me, this time,” she said.

A couple of minutes later Gel and Even stepped out of the front gate of the neighbouring house as if they owned it, just as a police car pulled up, lights flashing, to block the street.

“Laugh,” said Even quietly, and they both laughed – a ploy Gel would later employ on a frozen winter night in Jasper.

“Excuse me, Madam,” said a woman constable who got out of the car. Her partner on the other side was clearly a synth. “There have been reports of shots fired around here.”

“I heard noises from that building,” said Even, pointing back at the Mongolian organisation’s house. “They sounded like shots.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” said the constable. “Best to clear the area. Let’s go,” she said to the Synth.

Gel and Even walked around the corner to Gel’s car as if they hadn’t a care in the world.

***

The only decoration on the underground Gagrim temple proved to be the occasional flat strip stuck in the ceiling that glowed to give an uncertain light and cast shadows, as Gel led them on at a fast trot. But the place had a certain grandeur, pillars leading off in all directions, which awed the group into silence. After a few minutes they reached a wall then turned left, looking for the rear exit. This proved to be a large, rectangular opening that led to an avenue marked by more pillars, this time with the occasional statue of lizard like creatures, the original Gagrim. A processional way. A set of stone steps that would have done credit to a Mayan temple on Earth connected this processional way with a wide tunnel filled with equipment, being operated by perhaps half a dozen Gagrim scientists and technicians. They were wearing grey coats, their equivalent of white lab coats, which to human eyes made them look like warehouse storemen. A couple had human bodies with altered skulls to give them a comic book brainiac look, while the rest had normal human bodies, with an additional processing unit to take the overload.

To the human’s surprise a few of the Gagrim glanced at them, then returned to their work on screens and virtual 3D models, apparently assuming they were hoodies from the surface. The group walked on, Gel wondering if he should stop and blow something up, when they reached a table where a human in military uniform was engaged in a heated discussion with a Gagrim with an altered skull, wearing black robes.

The pair broke off their discussion and turned when the group arrived. The soldier, a large man with a short beard, a scar on his left cheek and intense eyes, was momentarily annoyed, then his annoyance turned to alarm.

“You,” he yelled and stood up. It took Gel a moment to realise that the man, wearing officer’s insignia, was staring at Hartmann, and another moment to realise the man’s had shoulder flashes with the word ‘Destroyers’ on them.

“Hello, Major,” said Hartmann, just as taken aback.

“Major Murtagh?” said Gel. “This is an unexpected honour. Guys, round up the workers here and check the rooms. I see doors in that wall.” He turned back to Murtagh. “I understand my lack of rank bothered you on Outpost-3.”

The Major thought for a moment then breathed, “Sergeant Obsidian”.

“Now its Second Lieutenant Obsidian,” said Gel, as the others rounded up the

Gagrim personnel. “I suppose your presence accounts for the reports I’ve been hearing that, the Hoodies, as we call them have been more effective as soldiers of late. You’ve been training them.”

The Major nodded acknowledgement.

“But security and sentry procedures could do with improvement,” Gel said, “as our presence shows.”

“That’s not my department,” said the Major stiffly, “I don’t command”.

“Now that we’ve got them together,” said Dr Addanc who had pushed forward. “We should kill them all.”

“What?” said Gel.

Major Murtagh stiffened, the black-robed Gagrim glared.

“Line them all up against a wall and shoot them,” said Addanc. “It will set their revival program back months, if not years.”

“Dr Addanc, I’m becoming increasingly concerned by your behaviour,” said Gel. “I’m not about to murder unarmed prisoners, most of them civilians, even if they happen to be of an alien race.”

Major Murtagh relaxed.

Theo came up. “More bio stuff in a big room back there, Skip,” he said, “and a shit load of those weird arse tanks with brains in them.”

These were Gagrim brains being preserved for implantation into a human body. A Gagrim consciousness would then be transferred into it. Gel and his team had encountered a host of the brain tanks on Outpost-3.

“Okay, stuff for us to blow up, sounds good,” said Gel.

The black-robed Hoodie stiffened and said something in his own language.

“Hartmann and Parkinson,” said Gel ignoring the Gagrim, “as Dawlish is out of it, grab some of those plastique blocks we’re got on the droid and drop them in likely looking spots in there and out here. Set the timers for five minutes. Save one for emergencies, two if you can. Theo, Cliffe, find somewhere for our hosts to be locked up, that’s not about to be blown up. Make the Major here comfortable in a separate room with ties for his hands and feet and make sure he’s tied to something solid.”

“You got it, Skip,” said Theo.

“Your team won’t get out of here, Lieutenant,” said Murtagh as he was led away. “Then you’ll wish you’d killed me.”

“Whatever else happens, Major, I’m sure I’ll wish that,” said Gel, mildly. “Look sharp people. Dr Addanc, if you wish to preserve any memories of this place maybe you better start filming. We are leaving out of the far end in minutes.”

“What happens then?” said the spy, “I thought there was no way out of this complex except through the temple.”

“Maybe there is,” said Gel, “if we can find it”.

***

Even’s first act, as Gel drove off after their adventures in the Mongolian house, was to call Hestia.

“I’m fine, I’m totally fine,” said Even several times, before Hestia’s hysteria was replaced with interest in the fact that her sister was about to go somewhere with Gel. It was arranged that she would spend the night at Courtney’s place.

“Where are we going, Mr Tux Rescuer?” said Even, when she hung up.

“My place seems the safest bet,” said Gel.

“Did you have this polite chatting you were talking about before in mind?”

“There is a spare room you can lock yourself in, put a pillow over your head and pretend I’m a bad dream.”

Even smiled.

“More importantly I have an advanced security system,” said Gel. “It helped keep out people working for Heather’s employers. If anyone does figure out where you’ve gone and want you back for any reason, including Boris, we’ll see them coming.”

“That’s a better reason than most guys have given for luring me to their apartments. I’ve nothing to wear but it’s been a weird day. Did Heather leave a spare toothbrush?

“Theo kept spares for his guests,” said Gel.

“Theo’s still on deployment?”

“Oh yes, for a couple of months still at least, and I’m to follow him real soon.”

This was the deployment to the freezing urban wastes of Dimarch.

“For how long?”

“Three months as far as I know, although the times can vary. Makes dating difficult if I’m about to disappear for three months.”

“Sure does,” said Even. “Tell me more about this wedding you were at – hope you didn’t leave the bride hanging. What happened to the groomsman you replaced?”

“All the ceremony was over – just dancing left to do when Courtney called. The groomsman got bumped to best man when the original best man got a skin full on the bucks night and crashed his car into another. Fortunately, it was a parked, empty car but the police were called and found hard drugs in plain sight.”

“Ouch,” said Even.

“He’s still in jail, although he has hopes of beating the charges. In the meantime, I was coming to the wedding anyway and had a tux in the closet, so I got roped in as groomsman although I barely know the groom. The bride is my cousin, through my father’s sister.”

“Take anyone?”

“Nope, no plus one.”

“You could have asked me to this society wedding?” said Even. “I could have found something in my closet to match a tux.”

“Noooo, my mother was there,” said Gel. “You have or had Boris to scare away guys, I have my mother to scare away girls.”

“A dragon is she? And she’d consider me unsuitable?”

“Are you interested in politics?”

“I have a degree in political science,” said Even.

“You do?”

“Sure, from Greens, is that so surprising?”

“You’re certainly more than smart enough, but I thought you would have considered higher education as a way for rich kids to waste their time.”

“Well, I have a degree with a minor in music and was applying for jobs in senator’s offices not that long ago.”

“The way you look I would have thought you’d be a cinch for a job.”

“For the wrong reasons. As it was a Five Ways accent and a CV that including singing in a club with gangster connections meant that no-one took me seriously.”

“If I’d followed my mother’s wishes and gone into politics, I would have hired you,” said Gel.

“And what would have been your reasons for hiring me?”

“’Cause you’re way smarter than me and know about politics,” said Gel, straight-faced. “You’d have told me what to do, and I would have done it.”

“Yeah, right!” she said.

“Being into politics would have got you over the first hurdle with my mother, but there’s still the Five Ways thing, no offence.”

“None taken at all.”

“The politics is a plus though. My ex–fiancée was priming me for politics.”

“The deal was you’d get into politics and become a sort of mouthpiece for your mum and this Alison?”

“Yep, mother even bought off the girlfriend I had before, because she didn’t think her political wife material.”

“Heard that too, and that she was ready to negotiate a price the moment your mum called. Annie wanted to know how much such a relationship was worth.”

“Never asked, but does that mean I get more sympathy now?”

“Ha!” snorted Even, then, “Men!”

The singer said nothing for a time and Gel became aware that, although it was a warm night, Even was shivering.

“Are you cold? I could turn on the heating.”

“No, I’m crashing,” she said. “Reaction to the events. I was hyped up on adrenaline for a while there, I reckon. Now it’s worn off and I feel bad. Don’t suppose you have any hash cigs?”

“Not into those. We can always try to get some if you know where to go?”

“No, no, let’s not do that now. Maybe just hold me for a time when we get to your place. See if that works.”

“I can sure do that,” said Gel. “We’re almost there.”

***

Gel led his team through the corridor into another temple complex of pillars but this time they went towards the lit up central portion. This proved to be a massive, round tower of smooth, white material that might have been marble, which they reached just as the explosives they had left behind went off with a boom and a distant flash. Around the base and on ledges set at every level were stone statues of ghastly creatures from Gagrim legends. Like the gargoyles and grotesques of the old Cathedrals on Earth they were on perpetual guard against evil spirits.

Dr Addanc, who wanted to take pictures from all directions, had to be dragged inside.

“Keep up Doctor,” growled Gel, “or you may look around one time and find that we’ve left you behind.”

They found stairs that might have been made for humans and walked up and up, and up. There was so little light that even the enhanced light mode on the visors did not help much. They switched on seldom used helmet lights and kept moving. Parkinson stayed behind for a few seconds at every floor to listen for any pursuit then raced to catch up.

“Nothing, Skip,” he said, every few minutes.

There was also nothing much to look at. The walls were mostly bare. Whatever furniture and fixtures there might have been had long since been taken away. Five floors up a discoloured mural occupied most the entire inner wall. According to an excited Dr Addanc it depicted the legends of the Gagrim main religion and was a major find by outsiders. The others were unimpressed. Gel gave him only a few seconds to take pictures.

“What is this place,” asked Lewandowski. “Why did these Gagrim need a tower underground?”

“Picking up noises below us, Skip,” said Parkinson.

“My guess is traditional architecture,” said Gel. “The temples had towers which the priests used in order to be nearer to the God or Gods of their religion. When the Gagrim went into their long sleep they prepared by excavating a traditional temple complex. The second part of the traditional temple had a tower, so this has a tower. In our case this is handy as you’ll notice we’re going up. At the top we won’t be far below the main sub surface chambers and highways of the city.”

“There’s a way out from there, Skip?” asked Hartmann.

“The AI said there was,” said Gel. “When the time came to revive the Gagrim, some robotic servant left on the surface drilled its way down to the top of the tower. Another reason to have a high point in the complex, I guess.”

Then they reached the top which was a dome painted in gold – one of the few times they had seen colour used in the tower – and solid concrete rock carved in a series of panels, with no visible way out.

Parkinson came up the stairs.

“I can hear Hoodies below us,” he said.

“I think this is what they call a tight spot,” said Alyssa.

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