Re-Coil - J.T. Nicholas Page 0,89

the submachine gun and knelt on the deck, keeping both knees and the toes of both boots in contact. I activated the magnetized locks in the knees of the suit and suddenly found myself with a four-point stabilized firing position. I rested the barrel of the firearm against the antenna and lined up the sights.

Just in time to see the suited head of the first cyber-zombie explode in an oddly entrancing expansion of gore.

I spared a quick glance into the deep where, just under five hundred meters away, the shuttle hung. In response to a silent query, Sarah popped open a window in my vision, showing the airlock of the shuttle. The outer doors were open and Korben lay prone out on the deck, massive rifle stretched out before him. A flash filled the window as he pulled the trigger again, and in my actual field of vision, another body dropped.

I hadn’t been aware of it on a conscious level, but the maneuvering of the ship had eased. Not stopped, not entirely, but instead of shaking like a wet dog, the vessel was making broad turns and rolls. My own footing was a lot more stable—and so was the footing of the nano-infected, but the reduced maneuvers were apparently giving the assassin enough of a window to lend some support. The shuttle was obviously maneuvering on its own, trying to keep the same relative position and keep me in sight. Even so, the accuracy Korben was demonstrating—firing at a man-sized target five hundred meters away from a moving platform at a moving platform—was nothing short of preternatural. I realized in that moment just how lucky Shay and I had been to escape his sights in our first encounter.

But I didn’t have time to dwell on earlier attempts on my life—not when another was well under way. The AI, realizing perhaps that its soldiers were slow-moving ducks for fire from the shuttle, had resumed its wet-dog shake. I couldn’t tell if Korben was still firing—there were no more exploding zombies, no convenient sparks to let me see a near miss. No sound. If Korben was still shooting, even his skill couldn’t overcome the wildly shifting vectors.

The cyber-puppets had closed to about twenty meters making a slow, methodical progression across the hull. I couldn’t tell how many there were, or if they were still pouring from the airlock. I wasn’t in a position where I could retreat or evade the perambulatory coils in any way, so I only had one option. I started servicing the trigger, firing single aimed shots at the creatures as they made their way forward.

Sarah helped, interfacing with the submachine gun, my helmet systems, even my standard-issue Mark I eyeball. She dropped prioritized targeting reticules into my vision, complete with projected points of aim based on the motion of the incoming bad guys. The reticules were all positioned high on the targets, away from the traditional—and far more targetable—center mass. I knew from experience—or rather, my branch’s experience—that these things didn’t respond to conditions that were normally fatal to a standard coil. Sarah and I had the same thought—the best way to take them down was to destroy the core or the brain, either of which should disrupt the nerves enough to render movement impossible. Tear all the electrical wiring out of a machine, and it didn’t matter if it was still getting power—that power had nowhere to go.

I squeezed the trigger six times in rapid succession, sending three rounds into each of the first two targets in Sarah’s priority list. Even with the help from my agent, the first two shots went too low, slamming into the upper chest area of the approaching zombie. The third struck home, punching through the polarized visor of the helmet. There was a puff of escaping atmosphere coupled with floating gobbets of blood and flesh that I didn’t want to think on too much. The coil stopped moving at once, corpse clinging to the deck like a lamprey by virtue of its own magnetic boots.

My second volley fared better, the second round striking priority two in the throat and the third round taking off the top of its head. Another motionless corpse tacked down to the surface of the ship.

A sudden burn from the vessel’s thrusters surged to life and I felt the maglocks in the VaccTech suit stretch to the breaking point as my right boot pulled free from the deck. The zombies reacted with an almost prescient awareness, reaching