The Alpha Protocol의 모든 챕터: 챕터 21 - 챕터 30

The old aqueduct stood out like the stoned backbone of a giant snake dusty soil. We lay flat on the belly in the hot sand, hidden behind a rusty dune from old consortium steel. The heat flickered over the ground. Before us Pumping station – a massive, windowless concrete block, from the arm thickness pipes in towards the slums. And Nova was right. Two heavy, spider-like drones patroled silently in front of the steel Main valve. They didn't float. Clicking your sharp, mechanical legs rhythmically on the concrete. Their red optics scanned the environment with more inexorable, mechanical precision. They were relicted killing machines, driven by old kinetic cores, immune to the EMP that had crashed the consortium. “Forty millimetres of hardened carbon,” Silas whispered next to me. He felt nervously the sand from his former white uniform and put the glasses Right. “Even with Kaels rifles, we need precise hits in the joints, otherwise the projectiles bounce off. Their reactio

The medical wing of Bunker Alpha was a place for us slum residents like pure magic. The walls glowed in a gentle, antiseptic white, and the air smelled after absolutely nothing – what was the biggest gift after the stench of the Toxic channel. An elongated capsule of transparent poly-glass stood in the middle of the room. It was Betty, immersed in a light blue shimmering, viscous liquid, which she let her breathe and her smashed arm surrounded with cellular nano fabric. Silas stood next to the holographic console. His hands flew with one Speed over the bright buttons that made me dizzy. His glasses reflected the blue light of the capsule. “Reconstruction of the radius and Ulna bones is at eighty-eight percent”, Silas murmured more to himself than to us. He typed another sequence. ‘I increase the calcium feed in the nutrient gel. This archaic slum feed has its Bone density is ruined. If I already repair them, then right.” Nova stood on toe tips on the other side of the ca

The suborbital conductor Zephyr was a masterpiece of aerodynamics. Without the old plasma-dreadnoughts of the consortium always accompanied, we cut like a black blade through the stratosphere. The sky above us was of a deep, almost painful blue that I had in Sector 4 never got to face. Among us the world flew in a blurred Carpet from gray and brown tones past. I stared through the solid carbon glass of the cockpit. My hands lay relaxed on my thighs, but my pulse burst. Kael sat quietly on the pilot seat. His movements at the control consoles were minimal, almost meditative. The kinetics suit of the Old World spanned over its wide shoulders, and the concentrated wrinkle on his forehead gave him an aura of unwavering authority. He was really in his element. “We fly over the edge of the dead zones,” he grumbled, without the view of the ads to take. He tapped a tactical holo display between us. The map showed the Eurasian Oedland. It was not a desert from sand, but from ash

The stench of burned metal and wet dust hung hard in the air when I reached the foot of the rock. Kael was completely free from the gigantic, sloping steel gates of Bunker Beta. His vast presence seemed like the massive mountain massif in the background an ancient war god who returned to his domain. I went to his side, the fine ash sand crawled under my boots. The heavy gates were divided with an ear-powdering ark, but they opened only a few meters far – the hinges were through the months Storage badly damaged. Dozens of red laser vitres were scavenging from the darkness of the bunker. Heavy Armed soldiers built in scratched, gray kinetic set-ups in the Old World behind improvised barricades made of sand bags and scrap. They held their Weapons in the attack, directed directly to Kael's chest. They did not look like a disciplined army, but like hunted, desperate survivors. “No false movement!” said a sharp female voice from the Half-dark. “Waffen to the ground! Identify

The heat in the reactor core was murderous. It felt like I was standing in an active volcano. The sweat burned in my eyes while I was with the heavy welding torch Nova was enough for me, the thick carbon pipes from the scrap of the storage machine welded together. Kael stood at the other end of the narrow, red luminous space. He had the upper part his kinetic suit pulled out. Being sown by scars, shiny upper body under the inhuman effort, as he with bare hands massive, frozen steel valve of the Old World millimeters for millimetres blew up. His muscles trembled, but he didn't give a sound of himself. “Fertig!” I cried over the infernal cliche of the reactor. I dropped the burner and ripped the heavy lever of my improvised Pressure compensation system down. The raw welds crack protesting, but the metal that once part of a Warlord murder machine had been standing. “Kael! Kael tore the main valve around with a good-tural boar. An ear-powdering noise filled the chamber. i