Dothin shook his head. “No, but we’re almost there.”
He brought them to an outlet door, then stepped aside for Gan to unlock it. Gan put a hand to the console and the door slid open, revealing a marine standing in full combat armor.
Nix dropped into a crouch, looking for cover. Ashla gasped. Salazar and Vance drew weapons. Dothin put hands out to shield Nix and Ashla. Gan finished moving before most of them had started. Nix didn’t even register his motions. One second the marine was standing in front of them, the next he was on the ground.
“Let’s go!” Gan said. He led the group out into the wider area. This was a large open marketplace dotted with stalls. Nix always knew this place to be full of life as people of various kinds would peddle goods from all over the galaxy. Now it was barren and dark, the stalls all empty.
A filtered voice called “Freeze!”
Nix didn’t know who took the first shot, but the marketplace around him went ablaze with laser fire. Nix dove behind a stall and put his hands over his head as invisible laser beams cracked over his head. Then he smashed himself up against the stall in time to see Gan grab Ashla and pull her behind the same stall.
Once out of the line of fire, Ashla jerked. “Get off me!”
Gan let her go.
“Dothin!” Nix called. He peaked out, clinging as close to the edge of the stall as he could. Dothin was across the aisle from him, behind another stall a few meters away.
“Niko!” Dothin made to run before Salazar pulled him back again and a good thing too, as super-powered lasers tore holes in the decking right where Dothin’s feet had once been.
In front of Dothin’s stall, Vance peeked out to fire off a blaze of accelerated ions at the marines. “What do we do now?” he asked.
“This is our way,” Dothin called, pointing off to the side. Nix followed his hand to a big door across the marketplace, across the aisle filled with laser fire.
“Niko! Take Ashla to her ship. You’ll have to go through No Man’s Land.” Dothin tossed something metal at Nix it sparkled and flashed as it crossed the line of fire. Nix caught it. He opened his hand to look at what he had caught: it was Dothin’s key to No Man’s Land. Nix looped the key’s chain around his neck and looked back up at Dothin.
Dothin lifted the pistol Vance had tried to give to Nix. He held the pistol such that Nix could see the side. He thumbed a release and the magazine fell out the bottom of the grip. “You see?” Nix nodded. Dothin pushed the magazine back into the grip, then turned a lever. “Ready to fire.” He turned the lever back. “Safe. Understand?”
Nix nodded. Dothin slid the pistol across the floor and Nix caught it. The weapon was heavier than Nix expected, and bigger in his hands. He repeated the actions Dothin did, then finished by making the weapon safe.
Dothin nodded. “Good. Be careful. Gan?”
“I will get them to safety,” Gan said. “Then I will get to the control tower to free Kol’s ship.” He grabbed Nix’s shoulder with one hand, Ashla’s with the other. “Let’s go. Stay low.”
Nix got one last look at Dothin, who waved him on, then he turned to follow Gan. Nix took up the rear behind Gan and Ashla, crouching low through dark aisles between rows of empty stalls.
“Freeze!” Out came a marine with his repeater aimed at Gan’s head. Again, Gan moved with lightning speed. With one hand he grabbed the marine’s gun, pointing it to the ground as the marine fired. Then he spun, smashed his elbow into the marine’s face plate, spun again, grabbed him by his back and then flipped the marine onto his head. The marine fell flat onto the floor and didn’t move, but by then Gan was already moving again.
Ashla followed but cast a terrified look at the fallen marine. “Is he dead?”
“No,” Gan said. “Just knocked out. The only way to incapacitate an armored man without seriously injuring him is heavy bludgeoning. The armor protects him from serious impacts, but it can’t keep the brain from tossing about in its skull.”
Nix got a visceral flash of seeing his own brain slapping wetly around inside his skull and swallowed hard. “Yikes.”
“You could have killed him though, couldn’t you?” Ashla asked.
Gan didn’t respond.
“You go to a lot of trouble to not kill someone.” Ashla’s tone wasn’t praising, it was probing, seeking some ulterior motive for why Gan would leave the marine alive.
Again, Gan said nothing.
“Wait,” Nix said, stopping. “This is it.”
Gan stopped at the intersection and peered around the corner. He nodded. “Hold on.” Gan doffed the hat he wore, dropped it on the floor. Then pulled his shirt off.
Ashla crossed her arms. “What are you doing?”
Gan unbuckled his belt. “The time for blending in is over.”
Ashla gasped and moved a hand to block her view as Gan dropped his pants.
“He’s wearing a smartskin,” Nix said.
Ashla lowered her hand. “I knew that.”
Once out of the borrowed clothes, Gan’s smartskin enveloped his hands, his neck and then his head and face. “Wait here.”
Gan disappeared.
“I hate that.” Ashla’s voice trembled as she said it. She sat down on the floor, drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Then she closed her eyes.
Nix took her hand in his. “It’s okay. I promise. He’s my friend.” He squeezed her hand. She squeezed back.
Gan rematerialized before them. “Okay. The door’s unlocked and you’re clear from here. Do you need me to accompany you any further?”
“No,” Nix said, standing and then helping Ashla stand. “Behind that airlock is No Man’s Land. It’s not even on the station layouts.”
“That would explain why I can’t find it.”
“There’s no way marines are patrolling in there, and it’s a straight shot to the cargo levels where Ashla’s ship is.”
Gan nodded, then held a hand out. “Let me see the weapon.”
Nix paused for a moment, then pulled it from the waistband of his pants and handed it over. Gan inspected it.
“This is a modified mass acceleration pistol.”
“Okay?” Nix said.
“It accelerates a physical projectile. It’s been modified for silence.”
“That’s good right?”
“It’s good because it won’t make a sound when firing, but it does so by accelerating the round to sub-sonic speed.” Gan looked Nix in the eye. Nix met his gaze. “This weapon will not do much harm to a marine in armor. It might offer some stopping power, but it’s unlikely to do more than stun an enemy, even if you manage to hit him in a gap in his armor.”
Nix nodded, accepted the weapon back and put it away. “I understand. Hopefully I won’t have to use it.”
“Go now. I will see you aboard Captain Kol’s ship.”
“Good luck,” Nix said.
“Godspeed,” Gan said.
Nix looked at Ashla. She nodded. Ready to go. He led her to the door Gan had unlocked and stepped into the airlock to No Man’s Land.
Chapter Twenty-Eight:
Into the Inner Prison
Cel gasped and opened her eyes, shocked awake by a blaring klaxon. Bright, white light burned her eyes. Her heart raced. Her hands tingled and went numb. Her head spun and she didn’t know which way was down. She struggled for breath.
Then the klaxon stopped as suddenly as it began, the light dimmed, and she realized she was lying on the floor. Cel sat up and found herself in a featureless, black cube. Four black walls. One black floor. The ceiling was one big, white light.
She was still in her off-duty clothes, now ripped and bloodied. The only addition was a set of metal cuffs at her wrists and ankles. Someone had tended to her injuries. Even her knee felt good as new.
“Good morning, Ms. Numbar,” came a voice from everywhere.
Cel stood up. “Anatheret.” She looked around but found no visible sign of cameras or speakers, not even seems for a door.
Cel scoffed. “I’m sorry to take up your valuable time. Let me out and I’ll let you get to your busy schedule.”
“Not quite.”
Cel spun around, looking for something to give her attention to but found nothing. No double-sided window, not even a camera lens to peer into.
“But I will make you a deal,” the voice said.
“No thanks.”
“You might want to withhold judgment until you understand your situation. All I want is Ashla Vares’ location. If you give it to me, you will be remanded to a standard-security Alliance prison to wait for your trial.”
“Trial?” Cel asked.
“You cost the Alliance millions in damages and killed four members of the Alliance Peace Corps.”
“Jin,” Cel said. “Those men working on the shuttle?”
“Mm hmm.”
Cel shook her head and gritted her teeth. “No one was supposed to die.”
“You can tell that to the judge. But I’m sure with a full confession and my recommendation for leniency based upon your cooperation in recovering Ashla Vares, you’ll get five to ten years in prison which you can cut down with good behavior.”
“And if I refuse?”
“You stay here.”
Cel made a crooked smile and shrugged. “This place isn’t so bad. Great view. Black is my favorite color. And this broad light source really helps my complexion.”
“When you change your mind, call for me.”
“Nah,” Cel said. “Wouldn’t want to take your time away from running a puppet government.”
“We’ll see.”
The room fell silent. Cel could hear nothing, no talking, no air circulating, no footsteps. Silence. She had no idea what time it was or even where she was. She figured she was still in or near the palace, but she could have been anywhere. She expected her mission was a success, otherwise Anatheret wouldn’t be asking. That was the only thing she could hang her hopes on. Ashla had escaped. Cel had kept her promise.
Before she even recognized it, Cel began to tremble. As she breathed, white mist puffed from her nose. She hugged herself but to little effect. There was no wind to hide from, not even a breeze. The air was permeated with cold, like she was on the inside of a huge refrigerator.
“Got to keep my temperature up,” she said, then, “Great, already talking to myself.”
Cel couldn’t think of anything else to do. She broke into jumping jacks. “One, two, three, four...” Now she was doubly glad they had tended to her knee. She had nothing to look at so she focused on a corner of the room and started pumping them out. “Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen...” By the thirtieth or so her body stopped shivering. She could feel the warmth flowing through her, keeping her core warm and running down into her legs and up into her arms. “ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred.”
She stopped at a hundred and then ran through hand-to-hand drills. Thirty of every punch, thirty of every kick, then she did combination routines, mixing it up. Pretty soon she was even sweating. Time went on—she had no way of knowing how much—and when it seemed they wouldn’t turn the heat back on she slowed down. An intense workout was fine but she had to think about the long game. She couldn’t keep up a workout like that for hours. She jogged in place, pretty low intensity but still enough motion to keep her body temperature up.
Somebody turned the heat on full blast. Cel felt like she might faint as her skin went from freezing to cooking. She stopped and leaned against a wall to catch her breath. She wiped her brow and her hand came back soaked. She swallowed, and her throat felt dry and scratchy. Cel laid down on her back, hoping to catch some slightly cooler air at the bottom. She was disappointed.
Cel worked through her usual routine of stretches. When she was done she tried to lie still and rest. She tried to take slow, deep breaths, tried to relax. She couldn’t stop panting and her heart continued beating out of her chest.
She swallowed again and thought she might choke on her own swollen tongue. She decided to make an attempt. “I don’t suppose you guys care that I’m thirsty, do you?”
She waited, panting, trying to think cool thoughts.
Some time later, the room was cold again. Cel stood and did some more light exercises. It didn’t take long before her muscles grew tired and sore. She resigned herself to walking in circles and swinging her arms about to keep warm. She was shivering again.
Maybe an hour later, maybe five it was hot again. Cel hadn’t recovered from the previous heat wave. She laid down on the flat, unforgiving floor again.
“If you’re going to make it this hot, the least you could do is make sure I get a tan out of it.” Cel chuckled to herself. Her body was head to toe covered in sweat. Her heart was no longer a pounding drum as much as a hummingbird’s wings beating, fast and shallow. She struggled to take normal breaths, but the heat was so oppressive, it felt like a weight on her belly, driving the air out of her lungs.
The light shined through her closed eyelids, so she turned onto her stomach to give herself some shade. No matter how she moved she couldn’t get comfortable. The closest was lying flat on her stomach with her toes kicked out and her head resting on her arms. She tossed and turned before falling into darkness.
The klaxon raged, the lights in the ceiling were as bright as a naked sun. Cel awoke with a guttural shout. She plugged her fingers in her ears and squeezed her eyes shut but she couldn’t hide from the noise or the light. It went on till all she could hear was the klaxon and all she could see was the light.
Then it stopped. Cel opened her eyes. The walls were colored in purple and green spots wherever she looked. She blinked, and the motes faded slowly. She pulled her fingers out of her ears. They still echoed with the penetrating noise.
“Good morning, Ms. Numbar.” Anatheret’s voice was as cheerful and slimy as always.
“Is it?” Cel asked. Her voice sounded hoarse.
“Does it matter? Enjoy some breakfast.”
Cel looked around and found a plain rectangular tray on the floor near one of the walls. The tray was only a few feet away but she refused to crawl. She stood, her muscles feeling tired and sore, then picked the tray up and sat back down.
On the tray stood a bottle of water and what looked like a meat pie. No silverware, not even a plate, just the tray and the bottle.
Cel opened the bottle and downed half the water. Her throat cried out for more but she closed the bottle and set it back down. Then she ate the meat pie. It wasn’t hot but the smell of it awakened a savage hunger in her. She wolfed it down, then licked the grease from her fingers.
“Kindly set the tray down and stand facing the corner with your hands on the walls.”
Cel set the tray down. “Which corner?”
“You pick, Ms. Numbar.”
Cel stood, picked the corner closest to where she had found the tray. She put her hands on the walls and waited. The only hint of a change was the brush of moving air on her neck. Soft footsteps padded up to the tray. Cel moved.
She turned as the MP was lifting the tray from the floor. He lifted a handheld stunner. She kicked the stunner out of his hand and then slammed her fist into his face. The MP went sprawling on the floor. Two more barreled through the hole in the wall at her, stun batons raised.
Cel dodged one of the sizzling batons, blocked another swing at her attacker’s wrist and then rammed her palm into the MP’s elbow, not so much breaking it but creating enough shock that he dropped the weapon. Cel kneed him in the jaw and then shoved him away to face the third MP, now standing in the doorway.
The tray clattered. Someone was behind her. Before she could turn a stun baton slammed into her back. Cel cried out in vibrato as electricity ripped through her body.
Cel staggered, kicked a foot out and caught herself from falling. She turned to block a second attack but the baton caught her arm, wrenching another guttural cry from h
er lungs. She stumbled back. Pain arced over her. Then she remembered the MP in the door, now behind her. She turned, dipped down to dodge a strike. Raised an arm to block a second then hammered the MP’s face.
Another shock of pain lit up her left leg as a stun baton crashed into her calf. Cel recoiled, stumbled, fell to hands and knees. Her hands shook and her lungs felt constricted, as if a thin, metal wire was coiled around them. She fought past the feeling of suffocation, pushed to get back to her feet but was flattened by another stun baton smashing into her back.
Another hit her arm, another her leg, over and over until all of time and space were agony.
“Good morning, Ms. Numbar.”
What was that? The seventh time he’d said that? Eighth? Could she have only been here eight days? Or was Anatheret messing with her? Time made no sense in her little black box. There was no sun or moon, no day or night. It could be two days between his visits, the time between them could be arbitrary.
Cel tried sitting up but a lancing pain in her side dropped her back down. She winced, groaned. She would not cry out. She put her hand to her side where one of the stun batons had struck her. Her fingers came back dotted with puss and blood. They must have had those batons up to full strength.
Cel tried rolling over onto her stomach, which was painful, but she managed. Then she pushed herself up to a standing position. Every muscle in her body ached. Whether it had been eight days or eight weeks, the pain game had changed little. She would go through hours of bitter cold and then melting heat. This would be mixed with hours of the klaxons blaring and lights blinding. There’d been long periods of time where they shut the lights of and she was in total darkness, floating in a universe without stars. They would mix it up. Klaxons with darkness, blinding lights with frigid cold, etc. Water had been sparing and food even more so.
As she pushed herself up she could feel the pain and hunger robbing her muscles of their strength and dexterity.
Right now, they must have had the heat up. Her whole body burned and...then she noticed the thick cloud of breath coming from her mouth and nose. She lifted her hands and found them shaking. The room was cold but she was hot. It took her mind a little too long to figure that out, but then she came to it. Fever.
Remnant Page 30
