Sammy and Kobe headed for the stairs.
The large double doors echoed loudly in the stairwell. The flight of stairs was a long climb surrounded by walls of dull gray cinderblock and abnormally tall steps painted black, chipping and crunching under their weight. Occasionally their climbing shoes made a sharp tink-tink when the spiked toe struck against a stair, creating an oddly wild reverberation around them. The sounds set Sammy on edge.
The production floor was darker than the ground level. A thick layer of soot covered the skylights and the only illumination came from a few emergency lights above the doors. Sammy’s eyes needed a minute to adjust to the dimness, but as they did the landmarks he expected to find came into view.
The outer room was equipped for mass production of standardized communications equipment. The inner laboratory was where delicate precision robotics had been used to engineer cutting-edge nano-communication technology. Save for the hot fields on opposite sides, the inner lab was surrounded by a thick wall which completely enclosed the area like a small box inside a much larger box.
As the Betas crossed the room, Sammy noticed the clean floor. He’d expected to see an inch of dust across the floor, but there was none.
“We’re at the top,” Kobe reported to Al.
“Copy that,” Al replied. “Keep me regularly updated on your progress with the mounts.”
“Gotcha-gotcha.”
They set down their packs and unloaded their equipment. Sammy took out both of his slivers and stuck them in the holders on his suit. Next, he removed a pack that could be secured around his waist and put the first cam in it. Last, he clipped a small light onto his com and attached a thin power cord to his com’s own battery.
There was no need for words; they had practiced enough times that each knew the other’s routine perfectly. Sammy went to his first corner in the outer area and gazed up at the wall. At seventeen meters, the cams would be well concealed. The lighting in the room, even at its brightest, did not adequately illuminate the ceiling corners.
If everything went perfectly, a single bomb-cam took a little more than forty-five minutes to mount, from scaling the wall to putting in the last mounting clip. Everything had to be done very slowly so his balance wasn’t upset.
He climbed onto a machine that looked like a gigantic golf ball made of chrome. Crouching low, he sprung as hard as he could and launched himself high into the air toward the wall. Just before colliding, he pulled out his slivers and stabbed them into the white-painted concrete. The spikes in his shoes dug into the wall making tiny but sturdy catches. He ascended like a spider, taking his time, careful not to make a mistake. It took him ten minutes to reach the ceiling. At the top, he dug his feet into the wall and positioned the slivers so they could act as supports for his arms.
Balancing delicately on his feet, he extracted the mounting drill from the pack around his waist and drove four small holes into the wall. These held the mounting grips. Once the grips were in place, he assembled the mount itself. The mount was small, no larger than a business card on each side. Each of the three pieces had to be locked into place.
His hands were more slippery than during practice. As he finished assembling the mount, he took a moment to wipe them with an alcohol pad. Then came the tricky part. With almost a motherly tenderness, he retrieved the bomb-cam from his pack. Into the mounting it went. He steadied it with one hand and brought out the mounting clips with the other. The mounting clips locked the cam securely into the mount.
In several of the earliest simulations, Sammy or Kobe had accidentally dropped the cam from seventeen meters up. About one out of every six times the cam fell to the floor, it detonated the bomb, all depending on which part of the cam hit the ground first.
It is not good to drop the cam, Sammy had often joked to himself. Right now, it didn’t seem funny at all. He held the cam tightly in place while securing it with the clips. More sweat formed between his fingers and the smooth metal of the cam. His fingers slipped right off the cam’s surface, smacked hard against the wall, and the cam tumbled out of the mount.
Sammy gasped and fumbled around frantically to catch it, but could not get a good hold. As a last resort, he pulled his spike shoe out of the wall and turned his foot in. The cam bounced painfully off his ankle, giving him just enough time to make one last lunge . . .
Caught it!
Balancing precariously on one foot and clutching the bomb in the ends of his fingertips, he drew it back up. Holding onto the cam with one hand, and a sliver with the other, he put the cam back into the mount and awkwardly thumbed in the first clip with a sigh of relief; the rest of the clips went in much easier. After double-checking his work, he pulled out his slivers and tucked them safely into their holders. Then he pulled his feet out of the wall and dropped silently to the floor. He guessed that by now Kobe had already finished his first cam. Kobe seemed to manage all the clips and drills better. Sammy filled his waist pack with another cam and more mounting equipment.
The next two bomb-cams went in uneventfully. They reported to Al that they’d finished three of the four mounts, and he asked them to take a quick break, no longer than fifteen minutes, then finish the fourth cams. Kobe and Sammy sat together, quietly eating a light meal found in their packs.
Five minutes later, Al’s voice came through. “Sammy and Kobe? Marie and Kaden have finished their three cams. They’re coming out now. Have you started the fourth?”
“We’re both still eating,” Kobe answered. “We’ll be done in under an hour.”
“Okay. I’ll set my watch.”
The last two cams had to be installed in the inner lab. As Al had assured them, the hot fields were turned off. This did not stop either of them from walking very briskly through the tunnel just in case something unexpected happened.
The inner lab was even darker than the outer area. But this was expected. Having been in a simulation of the room dozens of times, Sammy made it across the lab to his corner without relying much on sight. Because of the delicate nature of the equipment in the inner lab, they had to scale the walls without blasting off any machinery. For the last time, Sammy filled his pack and blast-jumped into the air. Like a cat extending his claws into a predator, he dug into the wall and climbed.
The final install went smoothly. Sammy had just finished assembling the mount and was now ready to put the mounting clips in and secure the cam. About six hours had gone by since the team had taken off from Capitol Island. He felt quite ready to go home.
“Sammy? Kobe?” Al sounded a little tense this time.
“Yeah,” Sammy responded.
“I’m having some trouble contacting Martin and Cala. Marie and Kaden are going in to check on them.”
“What’s the problem?” Sammy asked.
“Probably some interference from their location. How close are you to being done?”
“Fifteen minutes or less,” Kobe answered. He was a little bit behind Sammy this time.
“Great. Tell me when you finish.”
The two went back to work finishing the cams. Twelve minutes went by and Sammy had barely finished. Kobe was putting in his last clips.
“Guys, get out of the factory now!” Al screamed. It startled Sammy so badly, he almost fell.
“Why? What’s up?” Kobe asked.
“Martin— Cala! They’re— they’ve—Oh my—”
“What happened, Al?” Kobe shouted.
“Martin and Cala—” Al said, his voice beyond the edge of panic. “You’ve got to run. Marie and Kaden found them. They’re all bloody. I think—I think they’re dead. GET OUT!”
In less than a second, a thousand thoughts went through Sammy’s reeling mind.
Dead? No. That can’t be right.
People don’t die on Beta missions.
We aren’t really even in danger on these missions.
There must be a mistake. Maybe someone got hurt.
But something clicked in his mind. That voice wasn’t Al. Not Lea
der-Al. Al wouldn’t act like that unless something had gone terribly wrong.
Sammy did not want to ask it; he already knew the answer to the question, but he could not stop himself asking. “Who did this, Al?” he half-spoke and half-whispered into his com.
“Thirteens! I—I don’t know how, but they’re here! Please get out.”
13. Unlucky
For three seconds Sammy froze on the wall, paralyzed. His brain kicked into high gear, analyzing all possible outcomes of the situation. He looked over his shoulder across the room at Kobe, whose com light pointed back at him.
“What do we do?” Sammy flicked off his light, wondering if the Thirteens were somehow already here.
“I’ve hailed the cruiser to get us. It’s coming right now. It will be here in—in under five minutes with its weapons ready in case— in case they come out into the loading area. Just—just make it out here.”
“What about Martin and Cala?” The question came from Kobe as his light dimmed to off.
“Marie and Kaden got them. You guys just . . . stay alive.”
Kobe and Sammy released their holds on the wall, holstering their slivers. They made their way through the maze of machines to the hot field tunnel. Kobe was closest and ran in the tunnel first, Sammy only steps behind. The lights in the tunnel burst on just before Sammy entered. The hot fields came to life. Kobe stopped in his tracks about halfway through.
“No!” Kobe turned around, then turned back again, uncertain of where to go. “Oh crap. CRAP!”
“Stay calm. You have a few seconds before they heat up. Stay calm! Just do exactly what I tell you. Keep your eyes ahead, and I’ll be your eyes behind. Got it?”
Kobe looked ahead and behind, twitchy nervous glances. “I got it!”
Click. Kobe threw himself against the wall to avoid the first beam.
Sammy bent all of his attention on the beams, trying to watch three of them at a time. “Duck.”
Kobe ducked as the beam behind him cut over his head. Immediately, he rolled over in a ball across the width of the hall to escape two beams closing in. Another beam moved toward him angled down at his legs.
“Jump!” Sammy ordered.
Kobe blast-jumped too high, crashed into the ceiling, and fell into a curled up slump on the floor.
“Get up, Kobe.”
He didn’t move.
“GET UP NOW!” Sammy screamed.
Struggling to his feet, Kobe obeyed. Where he’d just collapsed, two beams converged making a figure eight. A wisp of smoke trailed from the leg of Kobe’s flight suit, and Sammy smelled the unmistakable stench of burned hair and skin.
“Okay, you’re clear from behind for a whole rotation. Go as fast and as far as you can.”
The collision with the ceiling had left Kobe dazed. He reacted much slower to Sammy’s instructions, moved too cautiously. Three times he came close to being burned again. Nearing the end of the tunnel, Kobe paused. Sammy continued guiding him.
“The beam behind you is coming back. You’ve got to get above it, but still stay under the beam in front of you.”
Sammy held his breath. This was tricky. Kobe jumped without a blast, jackknifed his body as the beams passed simultaneously above and below him, and rolled out of the field. Sammy muttered several colorful words in relief. His arms trembled badly and he had to rub them to make them stop. In unison, they flipped the manual releases and shut off the hot field.
“Thanks, man.” Kobe took Sammy’s hand. “I don’t think they’re here yet.”
“Does that hurt?” Sammy asked, pointing at Kobe’s leg.
Kobe shrugged it off. The dazed look in his eyes had disappeared. “I’ll worry about it later.”
Sammy’s thoughts swirled like he’d stuck his brain in a blender. He tried to block everything out but one thought: Get to the stairs. Once out, they would either fight or make a clean getaway. But first we have to make it to those stairs. Kobe and Sammy sprinted through the outer room toward the stairs.
The doors flew open, slamming into the wall with a crack. Instinctively, both boys threw themselves behind the nearest machine. Even in the darkness, Sammy could see the shining blood red tunic that melted into black pants covering a tall lean masculine figure. Blond hair stuck out in tufts from the hood of his blast suit.
Sammy’s heart pounded so hard he felt it in his throat. Kobe let out a low groan next to him. Another figure stepped in behind the man, this one more feminine, but with no hair, then a third person, and a fourth. Sammy heard a loud metallic sound coming from across the floor. The other doors.
More were coming. He reached down to his side and drew the slivers out. Every part of his body seemed to be aware of the moment. Every hair stood on end and he felt more alive—and more mortal—than he’d ever been.
In his lowest voice he said, “Al, we’re trapped up on the top floor. At least five of them are here.”
“The Aegis are blocking our entrance!” Al said. His breath made loud hissing sounds in Sammy’s ear. “We’ll be there as soon as we can!”
Even with all Sammy’s training, even with the lifelike holograms, it had not adequately readied him for real battle. He felt a quaking fear growing in his chest. It expanded outward until his teeth rattled and his arms shook again. His eyes watered, and he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry out for his parents. Slow, deep breaths helped a little.
If you want to make it out of here alive, control yourself!
The blond-haired Thirteen in front made a sharp gesture with his head. His sudden movement gave Sammy a better view of his face. It was so severely scarred it gave the impression of having been badly mauled by a wild animal. Still, this was nothing compared to the eyes. He had seen their blood-filled eyes in countless sims, but the real thing was much worse. In the darkness, the eyes were more visible than any other feature of his face. Instead of reflecting back the natural light, the dim light only enhanced the blood-colored sclera surrounding each light-less pupil. The effect was two ghostly dots of faded red.
In response to the man’s head gesture, the bald female Thirteen ripped something from her belt, kicked open the door, and threw a small object into the stairwell.
BOOM!
A loud explosion sounded behind the steel doors. Small, chilling chuckles followed. The stairs were gone. The other set of doors opened.
BOOM!
Another ripping blast came from the far side of the room. Both stairs were gone. More mirthless chuckles erupted from the Thirteens.
Sammy and Kobe slunk back further into the shadows of the factory, hiding behind the bulky machinery. More odd gestures, like jerks of the head and muscle ticks of the shoulders, came from the lead Thirteen.
They’re communicating, Sammy realized. Why didn’t the simulators show this? The answer came quickly. Because they can’t translate it.
“Let’s split up,” Kobe whispered to Sammy when they were behind a conveyor belt that stretched across a large portion of the back of the room. “Make it harder for them to find us.”
“No,” Sammy hissed. “If we stay together we have a better chance at surviving. Just don’t let yourself get cut off from me. They’ll be trying to separate us, make us weaker.”
Kobe followed him behind the conveyor belt to the far back corner of the room opposite of the side they had seen the Thirteens come in. There they saw five more. At least one was an Aegis, maybe more. Nine enemies total. Who knew how many more were downstairs?
“Kill the Aegis first,” Sammy said. “Grab any weapons you can use.”
“They’ll be useless!” Kobe said, breathing fast. “They’ll have identifiers on them.”
“Cut off their middle fingers, then you can use the weapon. You don’t need ID for explosives, which apparently they have. And if you can’t get the finger, break the weapon so they can’t use it.”
Kobe nodded but with a tinge of paleness in his face.
Sammy knew the Thirteens would try to surround them. H
e knew their tactics from the sims. When outnumbered, the attack comes from as many sides as possible. Only then, would the Thirteens move in.
He led Kobe around the room. Keep the enemy in sight. Pick them off one by one. In order to survive, they had to be the hunters. And Sammy was determined to get out alive. He had to live long enough to get back to Jeffie—to get that kiss.
“Sammy! Kobe! The doors to the stairs—” Al shouted. “We can’t open them!”
“They’ve blown the stairs,” Sammy’s whispers were urgent, desperate. “Find us another way out of here.”
“We’re working on that right now.”
Sammy slunk low behind the base of a gigantic plastic presser. He peeked around the corner and saw an Aegis moving toward them, carefully checking all the little nooks and crannies he passed. Sammy knew they could drop back and find more cover, but sooner or later, they would have to stand and fight. He motioned a quick plan to Kobe, who acknowledged his understanding.
Kobe stood tall, tensing his muscles for one swift movement. Lunging around the corner, he hurled his right sliver at the Aegis. The Aegis reacted quickly, crying out, but he was not quick enough. The sliver stuck him in the chest near the heart. Sammy snuck up behind and sank his own sliver into the Aegis’ neck, stopping near the hilt. The cry transformed into a death-filled gurgling sound, still loud enough to attract others.
Footsteps came from three directions. Sammy knew he should run away—knew he had to—but couldn’t. The sight of the Aegis dying mesmerized him. He had done this. He had killed someone. It took several seconds to realize he had his hand pressed tightly against his mouth to ensure he didn’t vomit.
Psion Beta (Psion series #1) Page 27
