by C N Samson
The train disappeared down the tunnel. The others stood around him.
“Yeah, fine.” Rheinborne glared at Unkerich. “Did you push me?”
“It looked like you needed the help of a hand,” Unkerich replied, grinning.
Rheinborne balled his fists. “You could have—”
“Enough!” said Foscalini. “This way.”
He led the group along the tunnel to an alcove, within which was an unmarked door. Foscalini held an electronic device against the access plate. The device emitted a burst of high-pitched tones, then the door swung open on creaky hinges.
AFTER TRAVELING DOWN a series of narrow passages and crawlspaces, the group arrived in a musty chamber that Rheinborne thought of as a robot morgue. Various limbs and parts were stacked against the walls, and half-cannibalized mechanoids lay on metal tables, their innards exposed.
An open entryway at the far side of the chamber was partly obscured by a number of ceiling-high racks that contained assorted pieces of robotic components. Foscalini had everyone move into a shadowed corner.
“Sounds like a factory out there,” Rheinborne said.
“It’s the distribution center,” Foscalini said. “No way around it. If we’re quiet and don’t attract attention, we can get through.”
“Bunch of robots, watched by other robots,” said Unkerich. “They take over one day, you just watch.”
They filed out of the morgue chamber and into the center’s vast main room, two stories high. Box-like worker robots with multiple arms glided about, engaged in activities such as picking up crates and sorting items into bins. Forklift bots cruised around, and humaniform security models strolled back and forth up on catwalks, like guards overseeing prisoners.
“I know their patterns,” Foscalini said. “Stay close on me.”
When a large forklift bot cruised by, pushing a stack of crates, Foscalini signaled the others to move alongside it.
The four humans crouched in the shadow of the bot, keeping pace with it. Rheinborne stifled the urge to touch his face; the shift-skin lacked pores, so sweat oozed down his real face, down his neck and into his shirt.
The forklift bot turned aside when it was several feet from the entryway at the other side of the room. The group peeled off and scurried out, emerging into a wide, empty corridor.
They hadn’t gone far when a synthesized voice behind them called, “Halt!”
Everyone spun around. A blue security robot stood at the corridor entrance. Before it could raise its weapon, Unkerich let loose a burst from his rifle, blasting away half of the robot’s head.
“Keep going!” Foscalini shouted as the bot fell to the ground. He led Rheinborne and Valicia away, while Unkerich hung back a few paces, covering them.
Two more robots emerged from a side corridor. Foscalini drew his handgun, crouched and fired. His bullets struck the first one in the chest. It twitched, fired back, but the shot went wide. Rheinborne and Valicia dived aside as the second robot’s weapon chattered, spraying bullets. Unkerich threw himself flat, returned fire and shot out the second bot’s leg. It teetered and collapsed against the first robot. Both went down in a confused tangle.
Foscalini jumped up, raced forward and blasted shots into the heads of both mechanoids, putting them out of commission.
“Think anyone heard?” Unkerich asked with a lopsided smile.
The group ran from the scene. As they sped along, it seemed to Rheinborne that Foscalini was making random turns down various corridors, and he lost track of the way they had come. Though they didn’t encounter any more robots, they eventually ended up at a dead end.
“What now?” Rheinborne asked. “Aren’t we going into the sub-shuttle tunnels?”
“No,” said Foscalini. “There’s still too many maintenance workers down there, trying to get things fixed. Too risky.” He indicated a set of metal rungs embedded in the wall. “These lead up to the Central Zone. From there you’ll be on your own.”
Valicia removed her backpack, took out some drink bulbs which she offered to the others. Rheinborne accepted one, consumed the water in a single squeeze.
“What about the security checkpoint at the spaceport?” he asked when he had finished. “These masks won’t fool anyone up close.”
“They may not have to,” Foscalini said. “Just be there at exactly 14:12, standard. No earlier, no later.”
“Why? What’s going happen?”
“Robot!” Unkerich shouted. A security unit appeared at the far end of the corridor they stood in. Valicia whirled to face Rheinborne and threw herself against him as Unkerich snapped off several shots at the robot. The mechanoid’s chest exploded, but it managed to get off a few shots of its own before crumpling. Valicia cried out and slumped in Rheinborne’s arms.
“Valicia!” he shouted, catching sight of two indentations in the back of her jacket.
He heard Foscalini yelling something, but he couldn’t make it out as he lowered Valicia to the ground, on her side.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, going numb with worry.
“Not that much,” Valicia said, her voice tight with pain.
Rheinborne gently slipped one arm out of her jacket, pulled it down to get a look at her back. To his relief, there were no holes and no blood. The jacket, thank the Great Lord, was bulletproof.
He hiked up the back of her shirt. Two bruises had already begun forming, one on either side of her spine.
“You should leave,” Foscalini said, standing over them. He had a stricken expression on his face.
“She’s injured!” said Rheinborne. “I’ve got a medikit—”
“No time now,” said Valicia. “I can make it. Just help me up.”
With the assistance of the two men, Valicia rose to her feet. There was a small clattering sound as two deformed bullets popped out of the back of Valicia’s jacket and hit the ground.
It was then that Rheinborne saw Unkerich lying motionless, a bloody hole in his neck.
“He’s gone,” Foscalini murmured, gazing at nothing. “A lucky shot.”
“Great Lord,” Rheinborne said.
“Remember, 14:12.” Foscalini trudged over to Unkerich’s body, picked up the rifle and moved into the corridor.
“Blake, we have to go,” Valicia said, gingerly putting her jacket on all the way.
Rheinborne glanced back at Foscalini. “The man just lost a friend. We can’t just leave.”
“I can climb,” Valicia asked. “Please give me a painkiller, if you have one.”
Rheinborne stared at her. Kaye would have...
No, stop it! he commanded himself. Time for that later.
He dug out the medikit from his bag, found a pain-relief capsule and handed it to Valicia. She put it between her front teeth, bit down, sucked in a deep breath. Rheinborne got a whiff of the chemical vapor as Valicia spat out the now-empty capsule.
“Let’s go,” she said.
NORLAND STOOD, SWEATING, in Prester’s office. The man was far from pleased.
“Explain to me again why you had to execute those people?” Prester said. He leaned over his desk, fists against the desktop.
“A lapse of professional judgment, perhaps.” Norland replied. “But I’ve met their type before. Interrogation would have been pointless. They wouldn’t have told us anything.”
“They,” Prester said in a low, dark voice, “were Ormond foot soldiers.”
“I understand, but they were helping—”
“You’ve cocked things up in a huge way, you know that?” Prester sank back into his chair. “There’s been an unwritten truce between us and them. We know they’ll eventually move against us, they know we’ll eventually move against them. But now, you may have forced us all into a war we’re not prepared for!”
Norland was about to speak, but Prester signaled for him to be quiet as he took a call on his ECM.
“Incident at the distribution center. The blue hats are responding,” Prester said when the call ended. “Some b
ots got smoked. If your targets had anything to do with that, they’re probably making a run for the spaceport by now.”
“Can’t you just order a lockdown?”
“No, because I’m not the chief blue hat. You and your people might want to consider going down and...oh, I don’t know, trying to catch them?”
“A good suggestion.” Norland spun on his heel and strode out of the office.
CHAPTER 13
THE CENTRAL ZONE OF Langensbern was a colossal underground dome, two miles across and one mile high. White walkways curved around islands of greenery, glimmering pools surrounded towers of metal and glass, and holographic clouds dotted a simulated blue sky. It was a clean, welcoming place, a stark contrast to the industrial grunge of the Alchromia District. Rheinborne had glimpsed the Zone from the window of the skytrain that ran along a track suspended from the ceiling, but thought it looked more impressive from ground level.
After coming out in a narrow alley, he and Valicia had moved from building to building, attempting to avoid being caught out in the open. They were now at the city’s art museum, standing in the shadow of an abstract metallic sculpture that spiraled to a height of ten feet. Other sculptures of varying forms dotted the plaza in front of the museum.
Rheinborne shaded his eyes, gazed out across the area. He was supposed to be thinking of a way to traverse the space while limiting their exposure, but the only thought on his mind was how Valicia had intercepted the gunshots.
“The whole point of my coming down here was to get you out alive,” he said. “You might have died. Again.”
“Those weapons the robots use are low quality. I knew my jacket could take the hits.”
“But my medical nano—”
“Still may not have been enough,” Valicia interrupted. “It was the only logical thing to do.”
“Right. Logical.” Rheinborne felt a pang of disappointment. That was something an AI would say. “Anyway, thanks.”
“No need for thanks. I know you’d have done the same for me.”
A chirpy tour guide came down the broad steps of the museum, followed by a group of adults and children. The guide stopped in front of a nearby sculpture, a huge white sphere merged with a pyramid.
“I’ve got an idea,” Rheinborne whispered to Valicia.
“Join the group?” she whispered back.
“Precisely.”
The guide held up a baton that projected a holographic symbol, and the group gathered around her. As she began her explanation of the piece, Rheinborne and Valicia casually edged in their direction.
“And now,” said the tour guide, “let’s get back on board the EduTram and whisk away to the Museum of Historical Facts, where you will see a full-scale replica of the Planetfall Pillar!”
A long electric tram idled at the foot of the plaza. Rheinborne and Valicia merged into the rear of the tour group, and took seats at the back of the open-air vehicle. They needed to get to the Zone’s southwest tunnel, and the history museum was located in that direction. They’d be able to save some time by sneaking a ride.
As they waited for the tram to fill, a young boy on the bench in front of them turned around. He eyed them with suspicion, then said, “You’re not with us!”
“Yes we are,” Rheinborne said. “Now shut up and leave us alone.”
“You’re trying to get into the next museum without paying!” the boy announced in a loud voice. “That’s wrong!”
His mother shushed him. His father looked back and said, “This tour is for paying customers only.”
Valicia gave an apologetic smile. “I think we might be on the wrong tram. Excuse us.”
She and Rheinborne got off the vehicle, which glided away.
“Damn nosy little kid,” Rheinborne said.
Valicia slipped an arm around his waist. “We’ll have to chance going in directly,” she said. “Act like we’re a couple.”
“I thought we still were,” Rheinborne said with forced levity as they commenced walking. He pressed closer to her, and for a moment it felt like old times. But he couldn’t allow himself to relax; they were still a long way from being safe.
Valicia didn’t acknowledge the comment, and Rheinborne started to feel a bit awkward. To change the subject, he said, “You know, your friends might have left us a few jenns for public transport.”
“They needed all the cash they could get,” Valicia replied.
“For what, exactly?”
“A big operation, from what I was able to discern. If I hadn’t convinced them that you would deliver the money, they wouldn’t have helped me.”
“Ah,” Rheinborne said. “So it wasn’t for altruistic reasons.”
They traveled down Langensbern Avenue, the Central Zone’s main pedestrian thoroughfare. Every passing police drone and robot patrol made Rheinborne sweat even more. It felt like his shift-skin mask was on the verge of slipping off and revealing his true face.
At last, they came in sight of the southwest tunnel. A sign mounted across the top read “TO SPACEPORT, SOUTH RING PLACE, LOFTY TERRACE CIRCLE.”
Because of the disruption in sub-shuttle service, traffic through the tunnel was heavier than normal. Extra police were on hand to deal with the increased number of pedestrians and small vehicles.
Rheinborne and Valicia veered off the thoroughfare and into a little side park. They took seats on a bench that faced the tunnel.
“We can’t rest too long,” said Valicia. “We only have half an hour left.”
Rheinborne observed the tunnel entrance, alert for anyone that looked out of place. There could be undercover officers or so-called independents lurking around. He feared that someone would spot their masks, and accost them on that basis alone. A contingency plan was required.
“Here,” he said, holding Valicia’s backpack out to her. He had been carrying it himself, to accommodate the injury to her back. “Take out anything you don’t want to lose. Also, anything that can be traced to you.”
“What do you have in mind?” Valicia asked.
“We may need to exploit human nature.”
Rheinborne waited as she removed a dataslate, some memory clips, and a few smaller items. He stuffed these into his messenger bag.
“Good,” he said. “Let’s go. But hold your backpack by the straps; don’t wear it.”
“Then it might get stolen.”
“With luck, yes.”
They left the park and hurried to the tunnel, falling into line at the pedestrian lane. Podcycles and electric pedicabs crawled along next to them in the vehicle lane. A low concrete wall provided separation from the two incoming lanes on the other side of the tunnel.
The line moved at a slow walk. Up ahead at the far end, police were randomly stopping people and checking their identicards or inter-passes.
That wasn’t good. Rheinborne surveyed the crowd, sometimes making up an excuse to look behind him. By the time they were halfway down the tunnel, he spotted a likely candidate, somewhere back and to the left of them.
“Slow down,” he whispered to Valicia. He let a few people edge ahead of them, then told Valicia to drop her backpack but quickly retrieve it. When she had done so, he asked her to sling it loosely over her left shoulder.
“Why am I doing this?” she asked.
“Just be ready to let it go.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Rheinborne glimpsed a teenage boy sidling up to Valicia. His hands were jammed into the pockets of his tattered purple jacket. When he was right beside Valicia, the boy snatched the backpack off of her and ran.
“Hey! Stop!” Rheinborne yelled. “Boy, purple jacket! Thief!”
The teenager rammed his way through the crowd, dashed across the vehicle lane. People nearby shouted for police as the boy vaulted over the concrete divider and made a run for the opposite side of the tunnel.
While this was going on, Rheinborne and Valicia elbowed their way forward, taking advantage of the commotion. The police at the far end of the tunnel
left their posts and joined the chase for the teenage thief.
Within minutes, Rheinborne and Valicia spilled out into South Ring Place, the lower shopping mall. They caught the next hyperlift and were rocketed up to Lofty Terrace Circle. Once there, they blended in with the mass of shoppers that occupied the mall and strolled in the direction of the tunnel to the spaceport.
“I’ve been keeping Gwynne informed of our progress,” said Valicia as they passed the big “WELCOME” sign. “He’ll be waiting for us when we’ve lifted off.”
“So how does that work, exactly?” Rheinborne asked, tapping the side of his head. “How can it bypass the GalSigNet?”
Before Valicia could reply, a voice boomed out over the public comm system. “Attention, please. Would the owner of a blue backpack please report to the safety office in South Ring Place? Your property has been recovered. Thank you.”
“It wasn’t too expensive, I hope?” Rheinborne said.
“It was a gift from a friend, actually,” Valicia said.
That gave Rheinborne something to think about. How many relationships had she formed over the years, in her new identity? Did she have someone special waiting for her somewhere? If so, that would explain a lot.
They were now in sight of the tunnel. A sign mounted above it read “TO SPACEPORT”, and below that was an electronic signboard that displayed arriving and departing flights.
According to the clock in a corner of the display, they had twelve minutes left until Foscalini’s deadline. If they hurried, they could just make it to the security checkpoint on time.
“Stop,” Valicia said in a low voice. She pulled Rheinborne into a line of people outside a movie theater.
Rheinborne tensed. “What is it?”
“There’s a man by the tunnel entrance,” Valicia said. “Dark suit coat with silver sleeves. You see him?”
Rheinborne casually looked around. It took him a moment to identify who she was talking about. “Yeah.”
“It’s Agent Norland.”
Rheinborne faced the tunnel again, pretending to look at the spaceport signboard. A woman appeared at Norland’s side; her platinum hair was tied back into a ponytail, and she wore a military-style outfit colored gunmetal gray.
