by Mel Odom
“Get those munitions.”
“You found them?”
Chyou shook her head. “Not me. Rachel. From one of her informers. She said you met him.”
“All right. Where is she?”
“Still in NAPD custody.”
“Why?”
“They’re holding her as long as they can.”
“For what reason?”
“Commissioner Dawn’s orders. Royo is on lockdown as well. The commissioner says it’s to limit media contact with police personnel. Personally, I think someone may have ordered her to pull the NAPD back.”
“For what purpose?”
“To clean up the mess that’s being made.”
“So that the weapons can be secured?”
“I’m not certain that’s the purpose here. I’m beginning to think that someone wants those weapons loose so they can be shipped, or so the media stays at a frenzy level. Since you’ve been out of play, the tensions between Earth and the colonies has spiraled even more out of control.” Chyou looked at the container where I’d been held prisoner.
I was intrigued by how easily I had viewed my confinement that way: imprisonment.
“That’s what it was, partner. Someone is stacking the deck, and they want you sidelined.”
I didn’t know why that would be so, but I accepted her evaluation because the logic fit the circumstances even though I had no true foundation on which to build it.
“This thing sent out a distress signal, didn’t it?” Chyou gazed at the blinking lights inside the container.
“Yes.”
She turned toward the end of the car. “We need to get out of here.”
I followed her. “Why did you come after me?”
“Because I need someone to cover my back while I try to find those weapons. I promised Mr. Swan that I would attend to this matter. You’re the best person I know to help me see this through.”
Person. Her terminology felt satisfactory.
She reached the back door and overrode the safety features with an electronic box. The door opened and the rush of moving air invaded the car. The mag-lev propulsion made the train’s progress relatively soundless, but the displaced air whooshed by us.
The train was currently traveling at 62.4 kilometers per hour, much too fast for Chyou to safely debark unassisted. She turned to me and took another pistol from the backpack she wore. I noted the pulley system attached to the barrel and the stubby spear that projected from it.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Then hold on.” She offered me a handhold on the weapon, the fist-sized grip at the pistol’s butt for a second person to hold on. She turned and aimed ahead of us, then squeezed the trigger.
The spear leaped from the pistol and buried into the ceiling fifteen meters in front of us. Even as the distance flashed through my mind, the line grew taut and pulled us from the train as it flashed by. I had no problem maintaining my hold, but I knew Chyou was struggling from the way her face grimaced. I wrapped an arm around her as we swung wildly and the train careened past us. We swung back into the train, but I managed to fend us off with an outstretched foot.
Then the train was past us and we were alone in the tube tunnel. Chyou worked the pistol’s controls and dropped us to the side of the tracks. She reeled the cable back in and we ran back down the tunnel.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
An hour and eight minutes later, still running free, we closed on the hangar in the public dock where Rachel’s informant had told her the munitions were being kept. The closer we got, the more Chyou got quiet. She wasn’t talkative by nature anyway, but she became silent when we stepped onto the street where the suspect hangar was.
So far we had avoided NAPD detection as well as the Haas-Bioroid sec teams that I knew would be out looking for me. Bioroids didn’t miss appointments at the corp or disobey direct orders unless they were physically unable. Escaping a containment unit was completely unheard of.
We’d come directly over from the tube-levs. Chyou had packed an arsenal in her backpack. She’d given me two Synap pistols and we’d picked up a duster from a used clothing store, then gotten two spacesuits as a further disguise and to survive in the vac. I’d stored the weapons promptly in the pockets.
I was also limited in what I could do to cover her. I had to keep off the Net because using it would have alerted Haas-Bioroid as well as the NAPD. We’d have been picked up almost immediately. I didn’t even have the authority to demand cooperation from anyone we questioned.
Three hangars down, Chyou walked off the main street into the alley that ran between the buildings. We were in the dark hours now and the docks were mostly in shadows. Little traffic was out on the streets. Dressed in spacesuits, we drew only scattered attention as we made our way to our goal.
The hangars were built into the side of the crater where the docks were located. Entry was limited to the front and the side doors, which were small and meant only for humans and small cargo.
At the door, Chyou leaned her helmet to mine so we could speak. “If the weapons are inside this building, things are going to get dangerous as soon as we step inside.”
“I know.”
“We’re going to stay off the Net until we don’t have a choice.”
“I understand.”
“We get in, we look for the weapons, and we get out.”
I nodded and took out the Synap pistols in both hands.
Chyou knelt quickly and took a magnetic tumbler lock-pick from her backpack. She had the lock open in a matter of seconds, then put the device away and took out her own weapons.
I almost hesitated at the door because I knew we were entering the premises without a warrant, a crime, but I balanced that reluctance with the knowledge that Chyou was probably risking her life when she slid through the door. I trailed after her, stepping into the darkness at her heels. My vision instantly adjusted to the lack of illumination, and I knew the goggles Chyou wore would allow her to see as well.
The cargo ship inside the hangar nearly filled all the available space. Like the berth that Masamune had had for his craft, this one also had three units against the wall where the crew bunked. As soon as we stepped through the door, lights started going on in the units and men poured out into the hangar. Chyou had gotten through the lock, but she had missed one or more of the safeguards. An alarm had sounded in the crew units, either silent or unconducted in the vac that filled the hangar.
These men and women came at us without hesitation, and they asked no questions. Lasers and tracer rounds ripped lines of illumination through the darkness and briefly lit up the men and women in their spacesuits.
Chyou dodged to the left, ducking behind a line of crates. I slid in behind her but knew that our position was going to be quickly overrun because there were seventeen people in the room. I’d scanned at least that many with my thermographic vision.
Slugs and laser beams ripped pieces of plasteel from the crates, and some of those boxes shook and shivered under the assault. A high-velocity bullet ripped through one of the crates and hit me in the shoulder. Since the round was already partially flattened from crashing through the crate, it only tore through my spacesuit and slammed into my shoulder with blunt force. I staggered but didn’t go down, but I knew the danger to Chyou was increased as our attackers narrowed their focus.
I ripped the spacesuit off me. I hadn’t needed it for anything other than a disguise and it was starting to encumber me. I kicked off the outer boots at the same time, then shoved the Synap pistols into the pockets of my duster.
Grabbing the nearest crate, lifting it easily in the microgravity, I raised it over my head and hurled it toward our attackers. I believed that some of them would be hurt, but not killed, and I was driven by the imperative to preserve Chyou’s life.
I also opened comm to the Net and sent a distress call to the NAPD.
“Detective Drake 3GI2RC, you are ordered to report—”
&n
bsp; The crate struck four of our combatants and scattered them like bowling pins. I reached for another crate at the same time I cut the dispatch person off.
“I am under attack.” I chose not to tell them that Chyou was with me. “Send backup squads.” I tagged my GPS location in case the dispatch person hadn’t gotten it, then began scanning for the building’s safety protocols.
I threw the second crate with less success than the first one, only seeing two of our opponents go down that time, but the overall approach had slowed and gave Chyou and me some breathing room.
“An odd idiom, given our present circumstances.” Shelly was beside me as she had been so many times before, and her presence felt right. “‘Breathing room’ in an airless environment.”
I didn’t respond, simply reached for another crate and checked on Chyou. She had reached the belly of the cargo ship and was caught up in an exchange of gunfire. One of the men went down. I took out two others with another crate, then sprinted after her.
At the back of my mind, I’d been worried that we were the ones committing the crime. As I closed on Chyou’s position to provide cover fire with my pistols, one of the people I had downed with the crate staggered to her feet with a hand over the crack in her faceplate. Through the transplas lens, I spotted the chimera tattoo in the hollow of her neck. The ink wasn’t new and clean like that on the other men we had fought two days ago. This tattoo had a knife scar running through it that looked several years old and offered mute testimony to how close she had come to being killed.
She ran away, and I felt more satisfied about our course of action.
Bullets slammed against my chassis as I fired both Synaps, tracking separate targets. Crackling blue surrounded both of those mercenaries and they dropped to the floor.
Under the cargo ship’s belly, Chyou struggled with the access door at the top of a short flight of stairs. Bullets struck sparks from the stair railing and from the underside of the ship. A round had pierced her spacesuit.
I shoved one of the Synaps into my duster pocket, then plucked kwik-patches from the repair kit at her waist. I slapped the patches into place over the bullet holes and hoped that she hadn’t lost too much atmosphere from her suit.
I pushed past her on the steps, getting in front of her in time to block the next barrage of gunfire and laser beams. My chassis took damage and deflected the bullets and deadly light as I reached for the access hatch.
Chyou stood behind me, accepting the shelter I provided, and fired with deadly accuracy into the midst of our attackers. The wave coming toward us broke as they took cover.
I hit the hatch’s handscanner lock with a burst of subroutines I had been given and had developed over the years of working with Shelly. The electromagnetic tumblers fell reluctantly into place, but they did. A moment later, I pulled the hatch down to open the access port and gained even more cover.
When I turned around to Chyou, I pocketed my other pistol, formed a cradle with my hands, and she stepped into them. I lifted her into the cargo ship as she reached for the access port and pulled herself aboard. I followed her, pausing long enough to shut the hatch behind us and scramble the locking mechanism. Even if the mercenaries reached us before we lifted, I felt confident they couldn’t easily get through the door.
I cycled through the ship’s airlock and stepped out into the internal atmosphere. Sound returned in a rush and I heard the clicks of Chyou’s helmet unfastening. She dropped it to the floor and sprinted forward.
“Where’s the cargo area?”
I accessed the Net and downloaded the schematics for that hull design. I pointed at the next stairwell. “One floor above.”
“They’re called decks on a ship.” Chyou corrected me automatically, but she was already racing up the steps.
I bypassed the cargo ship’s security measures and took control of it through my PAD. The engines flared to life and light filled the ship while dulled thumps came from the access hatch we’d come through.
Chyou paused on the next deck and looked back at me. “Did you do that?”
“Yes. It occurred to me that if the munitions were aboard this vessel, it wouldn’t be beyond those people to attempt to destroy the cargo and us.”
Her face turned grim, but she didn’t say anything, just went forward into the tied-down cargo pallets to start her search.
I scanned the crates as well, searching for the radiation signature that belonged to laser weapons. It only took me a moment to find them.
“Here.” I moved over to a large group of crates, unfastened the secure bands, and pulled one down. I cracked the lock in my hands, tearing my synth-flesh, and opened the crate.
Gleaming laser rifles and slug-throwers lay within. All of them matched the models made by the illegal munitions plant.
Chyou pursed her lips. “Okay, looks like Rachel’s information was good. Now we have to get out of here. Is the control center up front?”
“Yes. Top deck.”
She ran and I followed, thundering down the narrow space between the crates till we reached the next stairwell. We went up while the sound of the thundering attacks on the hatch continued in our wake. Accessing the proprietary sec cams in the hangar, I saw that the mercenaries were attacking the hatch with a laser torch and getting ready to attach explosive charges at the same time.
I told Chyou.
“They want the ship and the cargo back intact if they can get it, but they don’t want to lose it. We’re running out of time.”
In the small control center that seated three people and was filled with flight and nav systems, Chyou slid into the pilot’s seat and strapped in. She showed easy familiarity with the controls and I felt the cargo ship shiver as if in anticipation.
Within seconds, the cargo ship lifted and retracted its landing gear. The laser torch was abandoned and the efforts to place the explosive charges took precedence.
I slid into the co-pilot seat.
Chyou looked at me. “Do you know how to fly this ship?”
“I’m getting the information now.” The skills dropped into my neural network.
“How far out is the NAPD?”
“Three point four minutes.”
She cursed beneath her breath. Behind me, I heard Shelly do the same. “I can’t find the hangar door release.”
“I have it.” I’d already accessed it. I pinged the doors and they slid back, opening to the outer street and the dock area.
“Hang on.”
Her instruction wasn’t logical. I was already strapped into the chair.
She guided the cargo vessel through the open doors, scraping the starboard side against the plascrete for a moment with a grinding noise that shuddered through the vessel. Then we were outside and lifting into the airless void over the docks as we angled away from the hangars.
Then the back end of the cargo ship blew out when the explosive charges detonated. Steering became all but impossible. We slipped into a steep descent and I knew we couldn’t pull out of it. The atmosphere inside the ship leaked out in a rush, leaving only a vacuum.
“I can’t hold it.” Chyou struggled with the controls, frustrated and afraid.
I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t time. We were going to crash. I surged up from the seat, tearing through the restraints. Then I grabbed hers and ripped them out as well.
We were headed for a group of hangars when I hustled Chyou into the escape pod behind the control center.
“What are you doing?”
“Saving you.” I shoved her inside the single person capsule, then triggered the jettison sequence.
Her face grew still in acceptance, then the capsule door slammed shut. A second later, the capsule shot free of the cargo ship. I tracked her progress just long enough to ascertain that she’d been jettisoned upward instead of into the ground, a hangar, or the crater wall. Electromagnetic drives aboard the capsule would cushion the unit’s fall to the Moon’s surface.
I returned to the controls and f
ought the cargo ship’s descent. I couldn’t leave my post. I had to try to save the lives of the people I knew were below me.
In the end, though, I knew I was doomed to failure. I just couldn’t stop the coming crash.
The ship slammed into a hanger, then into the ship inside, and explosions ripped through the mercenaries’ vessel. My systems went offline then. The last thing I heard was Shelly’s voice, but I couldn’t hear what she said, and I remembered thinking that I wanted to survive because Mara Blake was still out there somewhere needing me.
Then the waiting blackness engulfed me.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
I came back online through a blaze of grey static, something I had never before experienced. My deductive subroutines were intrigued and reran the experience a couple of times but could not glean any further understanding.
That took only a few nanoseconds.
In the meantime, I ran a systems diagnostic and sat up because my internal gyros informed me I was lying down. The last thing that I could remember was the cargo ship crash. I had gone offline at impact.
I was in darkness, seated on a horizontal surface with a wall just behind me. My feet touched a smooth-surfaced floor that would have been chill to a human. I switched over to night vision, then thermal vision, and realized I was in a three meter by two meter holding area that contained a cot, a toilet, and a sink. None of which I needed.
The diagnostic finished and let me know that all of my systems checked out. Given the impact at which I’d struck the Moon’s surface, logically there would have been some damage. After all, I had gone offline. I flexed my arms and legs, and spun my head the full 360 degrees without problem.
I seemed operational.
Getting to my feet, I discovered that I had been stripped of clothing. Logic dictated that I had been placed under arrest, so taking my weapon and my badge was a given. Perhaps my clothing had been taken into evidence, but I hadn’t even been assigned a jail jumpsuit that was usually given to prisoners.
Prisoner.
