by J. N. Chaney
“Time to go,” I said. “The Hastings family knows the drill. My way or no way.”
“Not going to work, Hal. We need to secure this area for an immediate pick-up. Mission control is very adamant about this point.”
“Elise, grab your old man and let’s go,” I said.
“Okay.” She pulled her father to his feet and urged him into a fast walk.
I covered them. Grady brought up the rear, but we hadn’t been heading away from the current landing zone for ten seconds when the dropship came around, hovered, and opened fire.
“Stay with me!” I grabbed Elise and the doctor, changing course and running for cover.
“What are they shooting at?” Hastings asked.
“Don’t worry about it.” I pushed my principals deeper into an alternate path that was going to require a lot of elevated walkway crossings and climbing over debris.
Grady caught up to us. “I told you we have to follow orders. Of course they’re going to shoot if they think we’ve gone rogue!”
Pivoting on my heels, I punched him on the side of his helmet, staggering him without causing real damage.
“Fuck, Hal! You’re such a pain in my ass. Let’s go back and get on that ship!”
From somewhere above us, a trio of rockets fired into the Dreadmax sky, missing their target and exploding several seconds later on the interior of the environment shield.
“I told you they have surface-to-air rockets,” I said, pulling him close for some private words. “That strafing run looked like more than warning shots. I understand they might shoot at me, but it looked like you were in their crosshairs too.”
“Don’t be a paranoid jerkoff. That’s always been your problem.”
I ducked out of our hiding spot, looking for RSG thugs, crazy-ass cannibals, and Union gunships. It looked clear, but I knew that wouldn’t last.
“We’re going to talk about this,” I said to Grady, then pointed to Elise, who seemed like the only person on this team with her head right.
We moved out. After several quick and dangerous crossings of metal walkways, I found what I was looking for.
“This is a stairway to below decks. Do you think this is a good idea?” Grady asked, still red-faced from our argument and running on an injured leg.
The doctor and his daughter went pale and watched us wide-eyed. I saw her trying to formulate words but cut her off.
“This is the peak time for crazies above decks. The sun is going down again and they’ll be up looking for dinner. According to the schematics, there are long, straight tubes where they run heavy equipment on rails. Since they probably don’t have any trains working, it should be the quickest, safest way for us to get to the pickup location,” I explained.
“If we’re gonna do this, then let’s get to it,” Grady said, leaning against the wall and aiming his HDK back the way we came. “I’m right behind you.”
We hadn’t gone very far in the five-meter-tall tube, when Elise came up to my side. “I don’t like it down here.”
“Me neither. It stinks.” What I didn’t mention was the evidence of crazies. This passage was one of their superhighways, apparently. The rails were raised slightly, leaving a depression on both sides of the support beams. I saw little shanties and tents made from various materials. They looked vacant, but there was no way to tell for certain, and I didn’t have time to clear them out.
Every hundred meters along what was essentially an industrial-strength subway tunnel, there were side doors. I saw ventilation shafts and drainage grates. It was still hard for me to wrap my head around the possibility of flooding or the occasional venting of steam. I knew what it was—coolants from the titanic power plants on the lowest decks.
Whenever I found one of the steam-spouting pipes, I also found serious rust and degradation of the structural integrity.
Doctor Hastings saw what I was looking at during one of our rest breaks. “The venting of moisture isn’t just from the cooling tubes. It’s part of the agricultural and oxygen production areas. The hydroponics level causes this, I think. It’s probably very humid on that level and I doubt they’re doing quality control checks.”
“That’s at least four levels down from here,” I said.
“You really do know the schematics of this place,” he said.
“I need to go topside to make sure this is taking us where I think it is.”
“You’re not leaving us down here,” Elise said.
“I agree with the girl for once,” Grady added.
There wasn’t much use arguing, so I climbed the ladder, did my security scan of the rooftop the access hatch opened onto, and stepped out. The others hurried after me and breathed deeply as though the air was better out here.
Maybe it was a little bit better. But probably not.
“Oh shit!” Elise squeaked.
I looked up in time to see a rocket streaking over Dreadmax. The dropship Grady and I had come on banked hard to avoid being struck. Two other rockets launched from different positions.
“A bunch of gang members can’t take down a union dropship,” Grady said. “It just doesn’t happen like that.”
My gut tightened and I felt sick.
Two rockets missed, but the third clipped one of the short wing-like structures that held one of the turbines used for landing. The dropship twisted, fought against the gravity generators of the Dreadmax, and faltered as the turbines screamed.
There were four turbines. Pilots claimed they could land with two, which I never believed. Of course, landing and flying were actually two separate maneuvers.
The dropship started a slow spin, canted too far to one side, then flipped over and broke apart as it went down. Another rocket struck it, exploding the main fuselage.
Bodies were flung out of the wreckage. Some plummeted toward the station while others spiraled toward the void. I waited for them to hit the environment shield and come down.
Beside me, the doctor spoke somberly. “I imagine they’ll die either way, but the shield has become more and more porous. Some of the areas that are supposed to have a protected environment are very hazardous.”
“You’re not an expert on Dreadmax,” Grady said, frustrated. “Stick to what you know.”
I watched as the bodies went past where the environment shield should be. “Shouldn’t this atmosphere bubble be venting if there is a hole?”
“If your friend would let me explain —” Hastings started.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” Grady said, heading for the ladder to the subway. “My team knew how to eject from a crashing ship. I want to get this over with so I can look for survivors.”
“Did you see anyone ejecting?” I asked.
He didn’t answer, choosing instead to push ahead at a faster pace.
I was more than a little annoyed with the guy. There was a reason I was on point and he was the rearguard. All I needed him to do was make sure the doctor and his daughter didn’t fall behind or wander off course. Now he was just being moody, stumbling down the ladder-like spiral staircase without paying attention like he should.
“Elise, you’re going to have to bring up the rear while I catch up with Grady. Can you handle it?”
“Sure, Cain. As long as my father listens to me,” she said.
“I don’t see how this can be that complicated for the rest of our escape,” muttered Dr. Hastings. “Maybe I should bring up the rear of our column. Is that a dangerous thing? I don’t want to risk my daughter again.”
“Elise knows what she’s doing. She’s got better instincts than you do. She’ll bring up the rear. Grady and I will go ahead to have a look.” I hurried down a stairwell enclosed by metal grating and found Grady looking grim. “What’s wrong?”
“Do the crazies ever have weapons?” he asked.
I edged ahead of him and scanned the tunnel with my infrared eye. Grady knew what I was doing. He had a list of my full specs. He also knew some of the other gifts the Reaper Corps gave
me before throwing me in prison.
A cluster of crazies worked their way down the temporary dwellings alongside the tracks in the subway. They grunted and cursed in a bastardized language I couldn’t understand but weren’t as loud and reckless as those I’d seen above decks hunting for people to eat.
These were a different class, and they were armed with crude firearms. One had a tactical shotgun with the barrel and stock sawed-off and wrapped in some kind of tape. Another had a pipe that was basically a zip gun, something I’d seen on a smaller scale in various prisons. It wasn’t accurate and it would probably explode the first time he used it, but it would launch a slug that would punch through walls if the charge was powerful enough.
I counted seven of these new enemies. “They look like hunters, might be the warrior caste of the crazies. We should let them pass.”
“Agreed,” Grady said, “but we are really running out of time. I’m not sure what will happen when we make it to the landing bay.”
I wanted to interrogate him about the fiasco with the dropship and demand a good reason why they fired on us, because while I wanted to believe they were merely trying to stop us from going a certain direction, I wouldn’t doubt a more sinister motive.
The motley crew of warriors took their sweet time but eventually passed. I motioned for Elise and her father to follow me and for Grady to bring up the rear.
“No flashlights. No noise.”
They nodded agreement.
I moved farther ahead than normal, hoping to detect problems before they happened. There were more and more tents and haphazard lean-tos underneath and beside the rails of the subway, impossible to clear as well as I wanted to.
We were almost to the next surface hatch when I heard Elise shout at her father.
“Get back from him!”
I turned and saw one of the underground warriors stand up from a pile of blankets. It looked like there was another person or two in there and I didn’t want to know what he’d been doing.
All that mattered was that the desperate-looking man had a hatchet in one hand and a shotgun in the other.
I aimed as the humanlike warrior pointed his shotgun and screamed a battle cry.
He fired and rushed forward with the hatchet at the same time I pulled the trigger. From further back, Grady also fired, striking the barbaric warrior in the knees. My rounds impacted the chest twice and then the head once.
The result was a crazy death dance.
Rushing forward, I paid attention to every possible opening to make sure it wasn’t another threat. There were still tents on the edges of the tunnel, but also distant walkways in ventilation openings. Everything looked like a possible point of attack now.
The man we’d shot was human, but so bent over and unkempt that he looked like an animal—who carried a shotgun and a hatchet to his final battle.
I realized Elise was crying and swearing profusely at her father. When I turned, I saw he’d been shot in the chest.
“Grady, hold security while I do first aid.”
Elise tried to help but only got in the way. I shoved her aside as I ripped off the top half of the doctor’s jumpsuit and applied pressure bandages.
“I can help!” Elise screamed, clawing at my arm.
“Calm down, he’s lost a lot of blood but has a decent chance of surviving. There’s nothing more you can do.”
“There is!” She lowered the volume but not the intensity of her words. “Tell him, Father. Tell him what I can do to save you.”
Gently but firmly moving Elise back, I squatted over my patient. “Yeah, Doc. Tell me what she can do.”
Silence. I could feel Grady trying to listen from where he was providing overwatch.
“I’m a Reaper, Doc. I have ways of making you talk.”
He swallowed. Tears ran down his face and his voice was barely audible. “I used technology from the Lex project to cure Elise when she was a very sick little girl. There were never any side effects, so I assumed the treatment hadn’t worked on her.”
“It worked, Father. You know it did. I can transfuse my blood to you so you don’t die.”
“Let’s just hold off on the highly experimental, dangerous-as-fuck field medicine. If he’s really going to die, I’ll give you a crack at him.”
All the color left Doctor Hasting’s face and I realized he was as afraid of his daughter’s blood as he was of his own death.
9
“ONE STRAIGHT ANSWER, Grady, that’s all I’m asking for.”
My old friend was in pain. I understood what it felt like to nurse a gunshot wound. The penetrating trauma was a misery all its own, but the bruise resulting from his armor’s attempt to stop the bullet from entering his leg could be bone deep. He needed to get back to the ship, have his wound treated, and take some rest.
“How the hell would I know about rockets on Dreadmax?” he demanded. “Think about it. I didn’t believe you until it was too late. Why would I do that on purpose?”
I looked at Elise sitting with her father, comforting him despite whatever anger she might have for the man. Returning my attention to Grady, I planned out a strategy for the interrogation—phase one, slightly confrontational, was done. It was time to shift gears and see if we were still friends.
“I’m sorry, Grady,” I said, softening my tone just enough to be believable. “It’s been a rough ten hours. I hate these ticking clock missions. Does something to my blood pressure, makes me cranky. I’m glad you’re my overwatch and I guarantee no one else would’ve dropped down to slug it out with these crazies.”
“Don’t fucking mention it. When I dropped, I was expecting a quick grab and go with a little gunfire to tell stories about later.” He shifted positions, extending his wounded leg to relieve some tension. “Maybe get me laid or some free drinks. You know how I love to talk—” Pain choked off his last sentence.
“We are in it together now.” I briefly considered putting a hand on his shoulder, but he’d have seen through it in an instant.
He shifted his bodyweight, searching for relief. “Yeah, unfortunately.”
I checked to make sure Elise was still paying attention to her dad, then leaned close to Grady. “You know we don’t have a chance if we keep running into armies of gun-toting gang members. I’ve seen rebels overthrow governments with less firepower than these guys have. There’s no way they left that kind of armaments at the prison when they pulled out.”
“I don’t know all the details,” he insisted. “You mentioned something about a guy that got put here because he colonized the wrong planet. Maybe some of those people came down with weapons and other stuff. Maybe there’s been black market trading going on here for years. Who knows? The point is, it’s a giant shit sandwich, and we’re gonna eat it crust to crust.”
Grady and I settled into a semi-formalized staring contest that passed for conversation among spec ops members. Doctor Hastings interrupted, making an appeal to get moving.
“Can we please go before I pass out? I feel like my chest has been ripped open and all my ribs broken,” he said.
I checked his wound. The pressure bandage was holding and there wasn’t any blood seeping through. The entry wound had been small once I cleaned it up, possibly shrapnel instead of an actual bullet. I’d been wrong before, but his injury was a lot less life-threatening than it had seemed at first.
Which was good, because we had a long way to go.
“You’ll be alright,” I concluded.
“He was shot, dickface,” Elise said, piercing me with a look.
“Watch your language, sweetie. The man doesn’t know how to talk to people is all.” The doctor realized he’d overstepped, his words fading halfway through the statement.
“Whatever,” said Elise. “I’ve got to pee. I’ll be right back.” She walked off and around the corner, leaving us alone.
I felt around the doc’s torso for signs of internal bleeding and found nothing. “You’re right,” I continued, looking at Hasti
ngs. “I only know how to make people beg for mercy and tell me their secrets.”
“We don’t want to miss our ride,” Grady broke in.
“I’m sorry,” Hastings said, ignoring Grady. “The stress of this horrible misadventure is getting to me. Please, just get my daughter and me to Union officials.”
I spoke to the doctor in a low voice as I gave him some pain medication. “Trust me, Doc. No one wants to get off this rock more than me.”
“I would say you are wrong about that,” he replied seriously. “My daughter and I aren’t used to this type of lifestyle. Please don’t let her act fool you. She’s still just a girl.”
“She thinks she’s tough,” I said, watching for her to come back from her bathroom break around the corner.
“I’m sure she is, but not like you and Lieutenant Grady. She hasn’t been trained or exposed to the way the galaxy is. It’s long past time for us to leave. I’m not looking forward to what the Union will do to us, but that’s not your problem.” His words had that emotionless tone I’d noticed earlier.
“I’m not interested in saving you and your daughter just so that she can be made a slave or worse,” I said, watching his reaction.
The doctor shifted uncomfortably, and not from the wounds. “Like I said, Mr. Cain, it isn’t your problem.”
“We’ll go when the time is right. I figured out their schedule. Pay careful attention to the next RSG patrol you see. There will be fewer of them and they’ll be less vigilant. The novelty of the chaos is wearing off. As long as we steer clear of Slab’s better trained soldiers, we’ll be fine.”
“That’s good to know,” the doctor said, distracted. He was clearly getting nervous that Elise was taking so long to come back.
I was betting he didn’t have any idea of his daughter’s grooming rituals. He was her father but hadn’t really been her father. Boarding school didn’t count.
“Be thankful you haven’t met Slab face-to-face. When you do, it will be a terrible experience,” he said.
