Zelda Verada's Arc

Chapter 11 of 13

Thirty minutes passed. The replacements arrived with the last four EMP grenades. Zelda checked her kit one more time. Beyond the heavy security door sat the containment control panel. Past that, a working ward. Logan stood at the door with his hand on the frame, reading the seams. Captain Hills set his pry bar and looked to Zelda. She nodded. "When it opens, Logan goes right, I go left," Zelda said. "Everyone else on Hills." The captain braced and hauled. The door ground open. The thing inside filled half the room. Tank tracks. Twin cannons. Twin heavy machine guns. A jungle-camo hull taller than any of them. Its top sensor array woke with a soft whine and swung toward the doorway. Logan broke right. Zelda threw herself left along the wall. Hills and his soldiers spread behind the cover of the door frame. The robot rolled forward, tracks squealing, guns tracking the nearest motion. "The sensor," Logan called. "Top mount. It's the only soft spot." Zelda's shoulder struck a toppled rack. The sensor array sat high, sweeping. She grabbed a loose steel bar from the debris and hurled it at the array. It struck the housing dead center. The sensor jerked, cameras spinning, trying to find her. The robot fired blind. Cannon rounds and machine gun fire tore across the room in a wild arc. Zelda hit the floor. Behind her, three soldiers cried out and went down. Hills dragged a fourth back by the collar. Masonry rained from the ceiling. "Now," Zelda shouted. Logan already had the grenade launcher up, the forest-camo frame tucked tight. He fired an EMP into the stunned array. Blue light burst across the hull. The guns stuttered. He pumped and fired again, straight into the exposed sensor. The robot shuddered. Its cannons dropped. The tracks locked. Private Russel rose from the door frame, the white tabby steadying her rifle while the robot sat frozen. She emptied her magazine into the ruined array. The housing split. The hull went dark. The room fell quiet except for falling grit. Zelda was already moving. Six soldiers lay hurt across the floor. She went to the worst first, a chest wound pumping blood, and drove a stimpak in. "Russel, pressure here. Hills, bring the others to me." She worked the line fast, stimpak and antirad, packing burns, counting breaths. Hills carried the wounded over one by one. Russel held each one down while Zelda worked. Minutes passed. Six soldiers breathed. None would die on this floor. Zelda sat back, paws slick, and looked past the dead machine. The containment panel stood untouched behind it. The room was theirs. "That's the last door," Logan said. He lowered the empty launcher. "Your ward starts here." Zelda stood. Six wounded needed evacuation upstairs before any ward could open. The fight was over. The work had only shifted. She called for stretchers and started counting who could walk.