by Tripp Ellis
Tobias’s face tensed. He motioned to one of his goons. “Go see if she’s full of shit.”
“I can assure you, I am not full of shit,” Max said. She pulled the earbud out of her ear and held it in front of Carson. “Say hello to your boss, kid.”
Carson stammered, “Tobias, she snuck up on me. It wasn’t my fault. You’ve got to help me, she’s crazy!”
Max smiled and put the earbud back in her ear canal. “Let’s get a few things straight. If anything happens to any of the hostages, your ticket into the vault is going to expire.”
“I have a policy of not negotiating with terrorists.”
“That’s rich.”
“And you are certainly terrorizing my operation.”
Max was proud of herself. A thin smile tugged at her plush lips. But her smile quickly faded.
“I’m inclined to go down to the cargo hold and start picking off passengers, one every minute, just for the hell of it. I don’t need the kid. There are other ways into the vault. Go ahead. Kill him.”
Max’s face tensed. She stood up and marched toward the hatch.
Carson trembled. "Wait, you can't leave me like this!"
23
“Can you get into the vault?" Tobias asked.
Chad was hunched over the control terminal. "That's not really my area of expertise." His inquisitive eyes probed Tobias, fearing the worst. "What happened to Carson?"
“Carson's effectiveness has been compromised." Tobias stared at Chad with ferocious intensity. "Can you open the vault." He spoke slowly and deliberately.
Chad hesitated for a long moment. Being anything less than forthright was a bad idea. He took a deep breath. "No."
Tobias grimaced.
Chad held his breath, not sure if Tobias was going to fly into a rage and inflict damage on the nearest person available, which would be him.
Tobias glared at Chad for a moment, then stormed out of the compartment. He marched through the corridors and burst into the cargo bay. He maintained a calm exterior, but in his rage filled eyes were oceans of malice.
His first inclination was to grab the nearest hostage and blow their brains out, making sure that Max could hear over the comm line. But he thought better of it. He wasn't entirely sure that she wouldn't hold to her word and kill the nerd. He knew damn good and well that Carson was the only way into the vault. He didn't want to risk losing that asset. If he couldn't get into the vault this whole thing would become an exercise in futility.
Tobias’s eyes scanned the compartment and fixed on the only person who could possibly gain access. Winston. What better way to bypass an AI then with another AI?
Tobias stormed through the crowd, the passengers parting before his footsteps.
Winston's nervous eyes glanced around, wondering what the tyrant was after. But he didn't have to wonder for long when Tobias grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him to his feet.
“What’s your primary function?”
Winston pondered the question for a moment. “I have many skills that allow me to assist my human counterparts.”
“What type of skills?”
“I am fluent in every known language. My neural network is capable of handling 37 septillion floating point operations per second. I am well-versed in theoretical physics, statistical analysis, biology—”
Tobias cut him off before he continued on ad nauseam. “You’ll do.”
“I’ll do what, sir?”
Tobias glared at him. “Whatever I say. Right now, you are going to get me inside the vault.”
Tobias dragged him out of the compartment and stood him before the vault door. “Get to it. If that thing is not open in two hours, I’m going to kill one person every minute until you gain access. Do you understand?”
Winston nodded.
“It’s in your basic programming to prevent the loss of human life if at all possible. I trust that you will work with diligence.”
“It seems that I do not have a choice.”
Tobias surveyed the robot. “What do you need to connect?”
“I can connect wirelessly. But you are asking me to reprogram the vault’s artificial intelligence. That will not be easy. I’m not sure it is possible within the timeframe allotted.”
If Tobias were dealing with a human being, he would have thought Winston was stalling. But robots weren’t prone to lie. Notwithstanding, Tobias wasn’t inclined to change his demands. “Two hours. Then the blood will be on your hands.”
Winston looked worried.
“Keep an eye on him,” Tobias said to one of his goons. “Make sure he stays on task.”
The goon nodded, then glared at Winston. He held an assault rifle aimed at Winston. He barked in a low, gravelly voice, “You heard the man. Get busy.”
Winston wasn’t particularly worried about the rifle. It didn’t make sense to shoot the only entity that might be able to crack the vault, but Winston wasn’t going to push the issue.
24
Tracks of dried tears stained Hannah’s dirty cheeks as she crawled through the dusty air shaft. Her eyes were puffy and red, and her body trembled with fear and sorrow. She had long since cried herself out and was in survival mode now.
The narrow air shaft gave her access to almost every part of the ship. She had weaved her way through the maze of galvanized tunnels and found herself hovering at the air vent to the bridge. She peered through the vent slats at Tobias, Chad, and the other terrorists. Her face tensed with anger. These were the people responsible for her parents’ death.
Hannah held still and tried not to make a sound. But she shifted positions, and the thin galvanized shaft flexed, sending a loud pop echoing through the vent.
Tobias’s eyes snapped in the direction of the sound. He drew his sidearm and flattened his back against the bulkhead, edging his way toward the vent. There could’ve been anyone in there, waiting with a weapon, he thought.
Tobias reached up and unlatched the quick release lever on the air vent and swung it open. He whipped the barrel of his pistol around, aiming it down the dark shaft.
It was empty.
Hannah had managed to back herself down the passageway and scurry off down an adjoining shaft.
Tobias’s keen eyes surveyed the duct. He could see where the dust had been disturbed. It was clear that someone had crawled through the shaft. But it had to be someone small. The width was too narrow for an adult to fit. His eyes caught sight of a single strand of hair lying near the edge of the vent. He picked it up and examined the long, wavy strand. This didn’t get here on its own, he thought. His face tensed. “Unless our troublemaker is a small girl, there is another passenger loose.” His angry eyes flicked to Dietrich. “I thought you said everyone was secure.”
Dietrich shrugged. He knew full well it was the little girl that had escaped him, but he had failed to mention it to his boss. “I thought everyone was accounted for.”
“Chad, seal all the air ducts in this area,” Tobias commanded.
“Aye-aye, sir.”
His furious eyes flicked back to Dietrich. “Go find her!”
“Yes, sir.” Dietrich spun around and rushed out of the compartment.
Chad tabbed through screens displaying the schematics of the air vents. He selected specific junctions and sealed them off.
Hannah could see the aperture close ahead of her, blocking the passageway. She hadn’t been claustrophobic until this point, but she was starting to feel closed in, and with good reason.
She backed down the shaft and turned around at the next juncture. She crawled in the opposite direction. She could see the aperture at the end of the tunnel closing as well. The metal on metal sound echoed through the ducts like nails on a chalkboard.
Hannah crawled aft through the narrow passageway as fast as she could, looking for a way out. The first vent she came to opened into a corridor from above. She removed the cover and squeezed through the tiny opening, feet first. They dangled over the deck as she lowered herself dow
n, then she dropped the rest of the way. She tumbled to the deck as Dietrich rounded the corner. She sprang to her feet and took off running.
Dietrich took aim and opened fire. The hallway came alive with muzzle flash. Bullets snapped down the corridor, sparking off the bulkheads. Smoke wafted from the end of the barrel.
Hannah darted down a neighboring corridor, running for her life. Her heart hammered in her chest, her legs pumped, driving her forward. She took in huge breaths of air, filling her tiny lungs to capacity. Her wavy hair fluttered in the breeze as she sprinted through the maze of passageways with Dietrich on her heels.
She wasn’t as fast as the goon, but she was more nimble. She dashed into a stairwell and spiraled her way down with the grace of a waterfall.
Dietrich’s lanky steps clanked behind her, drawing ever closer.
Hannah rounded the corner and grabbed a fire extinguisher from the bulkhead. She had to reach up on her tiptoes to unlatch it from its mounting bracket. The damn thing weighed almost half as much as she did.
She flattened her back against the bulkhead and waited. As soon as Dietrich rounded the corner, Hannah slammed the end of the extinguisher into his groin with all her might.
Dietrich groaned and doubled over with pain. He fell to his knees, gasping. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him.
Hannah hoisted the heavy cylinder overhead, then slammed it down on Dietrich's blond locks. His body flattened completely against the deck, crimson blood trickling from the gash in his scalp, staining his blonde hair.
Hannah tossed the extinguisher aside. It clanked against the back with a shrill piercing sound. She felt the deck rumble under her feet. She didn't know if she had killed Dietrich or not, and she wasn't going to stick around to find out.
She scooped up his rifle and took off running down the corridor. She took the first left, then took another right, found the stairwell, and ascended to the next level. Another couple of turns, then she pushed into a passenger compartment. She sealed the stateroom and leaned against the hatch, huffing and puffing, trying to catch her breath.
She looked down at the weapon and press checked it. There was a round in the chamber. She pressed the mag release button, dropping the magazine into her palm. She looked at the shiny cartridges inside. It was loaded with 5.56 mm full metal jackets. She jammed the magazine back into the mag well and it locked in place. This little girl knew her way around a weapon.
She moved away from the hatch and stepped into the compartment feeling more secure now that she was armed.
The room wasn't as luxurious as some, but it would do. There were two double beds, a flat-panel display, and an office area. There was a small galley with a mini-fridge and a food fabricator. The domed balcony offered a view of the void, but the idea of sightseeing had long since vanished.
Hannah moved into the galley and punched up a slice of pizza from the food fabricator. Within moments, she had a hot, gooey piece of cheese pizza. She took a bite and almost burned the roof of her mouth. But she was so hungry, she didn't bother to slow down. She grabbed a soda from the mini-fridge and twisted off the top. It fizzed, and she slugged a few gulps down. She hadn't had anything to eat since or drink since dinner, which seemed like eons ago. Certainly another lifetime. Another world. One she could never go back to.
She heard a sound in the corridor. She wasn't sure, but it sounded like the meow of a cat. She held still for a moment, listening for the sound again.
"Meow.”
She moved to the hatch and looked at the view screen that offered a panoramic view of the hallway. Sure enough, there was a blue haired Antarian cat strolling down the corridor, looking lost.
She had found Felix.
The sight of him tugged at her heartstrings. The poor thing was out there all alone and probably frightened, just like she was.
Hannah was terrified to go back into the hallway for fear of being seen. But she wasn't going to leave the cat out there alone. She pressed the button on the bulkhead and stepped into the corridor.
Felix jumped away, startled.
"Here kitty, kitty, kitty,” Hannah said, squatting down. She held out her hands, welcoming the cat.
Felix surveyed her with caution.
"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."
Even though Hannah had a gun slung around her shoulder, she didn't look anything like a terrorist.
The clank of heavy boots against the deck filtered down the corridor. Someone was approaching down a nearby passageway.
Felix's eyes snapped in the direction of the sound, then his eyes snapped back to Hannah. Neither one of them could afford to stay in the hallway for long.
Felix dashed into her arms. Hannah scooped him up and carried him inside and sealed the hatch behind her. She locked it, not that it was going to do any good. They had bypassed the locking mechanisms before. But this time she was prepared. If anyone stepped through that hatch they were going to get an entire magazine of bullets.
25
Dietrich stirred to life. Sort of. He looked like the undead, and felt worse. His head throbbed, and his neck ached like he had been rear-ended by a Mack truck. He winced as he felt the gash in his scalp with his fingertips. His hair was matted and crusted with blood. It had trickled down his face, staining his skin.
He pushed off the deck and staggered to his feet. His foggy eyes glanced around the corridor, looking for his rifle. He cursed under his breath. How was he going to explain to Tobias that he had gotten his ass kicked by an 11-year-old girl and she had stolen his rifle? There was no way to put it without making himself look incompetent. That thought kept him from calling reinforcements. He would be the laughing stock of the entire team of terrorists.
No.
He wasn't going to suffer that amount of indignity. He was going to find Hannah and redeem himself. He would bring her back to Tobias, dead or alive, he promised himself.
Dietrich unholstered his pistol, and his determined eyes scanned the corridor. There was no sign of her. Just the loathsome fire extinguisher on the deck by the bulkhead. Where the hell she had disappeared to was anyone's guess?
Dietrich inched forward with caution. He didn't want a repeat of the scenario. He crept to the next junction and whipped the barrel of his pistol around the corner, almost exaggeratedly. He was skittish to a degree that was almost humorous for a guy his size. He moved down the corridor, wary of every hatch. There were too many compartments. Too many nooks and crannies in which to hide. Trying to find a small girl on a ship this size was a daunting task.
Dietrich's heartbeat elevated, and he felt a thin mist of sweat on his forehead and in the small of his back. He was growing increasingly nervous about the prospect of returning empty-handed.
Dietrich crossed toward the starboard side of the ship. At the junction, he scanned both directions and spun his pistol to the right, then made his way into the stairwell. He tried to put himself in the mind of a girl running away. Get out of sight as soon as possible, he thought. That was what she would do. It was the smart thing to do. And that meant running as hard and as fast as she could, taking the first available turns until she found suitable cover.
Dietrich descended the steps to the next deck, cautiously clearing each new area. The barrel of his pistol swept from side to side as he moved. He stepped into the hallway on the next deck. He hovered in the corridor for a moment, listening, straining to hear anything. Any indication of life. There was nothing except the sound of the HVAC unit circulating through the ship. Perhaps she had climbed back into the air ducts? If that were the case, he’d never find her again. He put his ear next to a vent and listened intently. Even the most minute sound would reverberate through the metal ductwork. It would be hard to narrow down her position, but at least he would begin to know where to look.
He heard nothing but the whoosh of air through the vents. He moved across to the port side of the ship. He angled his head around the corner, looking down the hallway. He didn't find what he was lookin
g for, but he saw something else.
Something that might just redeem him.
Max had stepped out of a compartment and into the corridor. Dietrich lined her up in his sights and wrapped his finger around the trigger. Dead or alive, her elimination would ingratiate him with Tobias, he thought. Perhaps even earn him a bonus or a bigger share of the bounty?
It was a long shot, even for an expert. The statistics on gun battles are abysmal. Stress and adrenaline play a significant factor in accuracy. An audit of FCIS agent involved shootings revealed a hit ratio of 10% accuracy from 1-3 feet. They missed their target 90% of the time at close range.
But this wasn’t Dietrich’s first rodeo. He was a combat veteran, not a cop. The average cop has a 12% likelihood of discharging their weapon during their entire career. Dietrich discharged his weapon on almost a daily basis in the military. He had seen plenty of action on Beta Reticuli 3.
Dietrich squeezed the trigger and the hammer dropped. A thunderous boom echoed through the hallway and the copper round rocketed toward Max's skull.
The bullet snapped past Max's head, barely grazing the tip of her ear. It ricocheted against the bulkhead, pinging down the corridor. Max dashed for cover, a trail of bullets blazing after her, sparking down the hallway.
She flattened her back against the bulkhead in a recessed area. She angled her weapon around a support brace and squeezed off several rounds, firing back down the corridor. Her heartbeat skyrocketed, and her veins flushed with adrenaline.
Dietrich hid behind the corner at the next junction. He whipped his pistol around the corner and squeezed off a few more shots. They streaked past Max as she ducked behind the support brace.
"Make it easy on yourself. Give yourself up. Cooperate, and my boss may let you live," Dietrich said.
"I'll take my chances," Max yelled back. She had another thermal grenade. She thought about lobbing it down the hallway, but she wanted to hang on to it in case a more dire situation arose. The situation didn't seem hopeless just yet.
