by Sarah Noffke
She opened the nearest door, and darted through, pulling Lewis in with her. Closing the door at once, they looked around to find themselves in a small office. A wiry-haired man was sitting behind a desk.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” The man’s face turned a shade of violet, which contrasted greatly against his white long-sleeved shirt. He stood up from his chair.
“We’re here to do an inspection,” Bailey said, putting her gun away as she strode over to the little man.
“No, you’re not!” he yelled, backing up, fear in his eyes.
She laughed. “No, we’re not.”
She moved quickly, her hands shooting up and pressing into the side of the man’s throat, knocking him firmly to the wall. He flailed in her arms, but she didn’t seem to notice. His face grew redder, and then his eyes closed, and he quit fighting her.
“Did you kill him?” Lewis asked.
Bailey shook her head. “He looked like he could use a nap, so I put him to sleep.”
“How long will that last?”
“Not long enough,” she said, pulling ties from her belt to bind the man’s hands.
Lewis pressed his ear to the door, listening to the footsteps in the hallway. “I think we can head back out soon.”
“Okay, let’s hustle to the stairs,” Bailey said, propping the guy up, like she was afraid he’d get a stiff neck if he lay hunched. He kept sliding over into an awkward position, and she kept straightening him.
“Do you want to get him a pillow or should we go, lieutenant?” Lewis teased.
“When I knock you out, I’m leaving you as is,” she said, striding over to the door.
“Don’t you mean, if you ever knock me out?”
She shook her head, her fingers on the door handle, and her eyes intense. “No, I mean when.”
The hallway was empty again. As they moved through, they came to several intersections. Lewis would point in the direction he thought they should go, and they’d keep moving. He may not be fast, but he was good with spatial navigation. They made it to the stairwell without meeting anyone else. Bailey and he had assumed, and now realized they were right, that security on the inside of Sutra 9 was minimal. Vance had assumed he’d taken out most threats. That had been the reason for going after Ghost Squadron in the first place. And the location of this station, provided most of the security. It wasn’t a place just anyone could find.
Looking up, Lewis was overwhelmed by the number of levels towering above them.
“Well, the good news is that most foot traffic will take the elevator; we should have the stairs to ourselves,” Bailey said, setting off. “The bad news is that it might take you forever to reach the top. Look alive, Harlowe.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, hiking up the metal stairs. “I’m slow. I get it. Soon I’m going to find your shortcoming, and tease you mercilessly.”
“When you do, let me know what it is,” she requested, already two flights ahead of him. “I’ve yet to find one.”
“Humility,” he stated with a laugh. “You’ve got the humility of a peacock.”
“Hey, fun fact,” Bailey said, reaching out to him over the comm because she was so far ahead. “A peacock’s call sounds like a small child screaming. I don’t think I like you referring to me as a peacock.”
“Actually, if you pea-brains knew anything, you’d know that a female peafowl is called a peahen,” Pip said over the comm.
“I wasn’t actually saying that she’s a peacock,” Lewis stated, breathing hard as he nearly reached the top. “I was only relating Ladybug’s humility in those terms.”
“Whatever,” Pip said, his voice dull. “You two hurry up. With the ship’s cloaks down, I’m having trouble dodging the patrols.”
“They’re still down?” Bailey asked.
“Intermittently,” the AI qualified. “There are certain locations that apparently have more D-factor than others. I’ve only found a few pockets where the cloaks work, but due to the orbital force in the asteroid belt, they shift often.”
“All right, I’m here,” Lewis said when he reached the top.
Bailey was propped beside the door, a smile on her face. She stood straight and pulled it open, looking antsy. After peering through, she looked back at Lewis. “No monster.”
“Anything else?” he asked.
“A hallway that leads to the right, and one that leads to the left,” she replied.
“Well, in that case, I know exactly where to go.” He negotiated around her, striding out the door.
“Where?” she whispered, following.
“All roads lead to Rome.”
In truth, he needed a bit more to go off of before he could get his bearings. He ran his hands over the white wall as they progressed, taking in the corridor up ahead. Another hallway intersected. As soon as they arrived at the juncture, he knew which way to go.
“We’re going to take a right,” Lewis stated.
“How do you know?” Bailey asked.
He pointed to the ground. A few scuff marks that were almost too hard to see littered the hallway. “That path has more traffic.”
“Which means more people and chances of being caught,” she pointed out.
“Yes, but this main area is home to a large power source, which is likely the database,” Lewis countered. “We’ll have to find a way to avoid a fight.”
“Who said I wanted to avoid it?” she asked.
The detective held up a hand as they neared the next bend. He lifted his watch, pressing a button on the side. Its face turned into a mirror, and he angled it to show them what was in the next hallway. There was one guard, stationed outside of a door.
Lewis turned to Bailey, held up one finger, and indicated over his shoulder.
She nodded, pulling something from the pouch attached to her belt. She held a blue marble, pinched between her fingers.
Lewis lifted one eyebrow, regarding her confusedly.
Nodding, Bailey, turned the two halves of the marble in opposite directions, and threw the tiny ball around the corner. A moment later, the floor shook followed by a soft thud. The explosion had been soundless.
Lewis held up his watch, using the mirror setting again to see the guard lying face-down on the ground.
“What was that?” he asked.
“A concussion grenade,” Bailey said proudly. “Hatch gave me a few toys.”
“I like toys,” he pouted. “Why didn’t I get any?”
“I think he was afraid you’d hurt yourself.” She slipped around the corner, and sidled up against the wall as she made her way to the door.
“There’s going to be more guards and personnel inside,” Lewis warned her.
Bailey pulled a few more of the grenades from her pouch, handing two to Lewis. “Let’s take out the room with these.”
Lewis took the grenades, putting one in his pocket.
“I thought you were worried I’d hurt myself?”
“If you do, I’m not carrying your ass back to the ship.” Bailey shrugged, then tensed beside the door. “On my count, we enter. You take the left side, I’ll take the right.”
Lewis nodded, readying the grenade.
“One, two, three.” Bailey opened the door soundlessly and stepped into the next room, leaving ample room for Lewis beside her. She’d already thrown two grenades by the time he’d sized up the room.
There were four personnel on his side. He twisted the grenade apart and threw it in the middle of the workers, who were regarding him with confused stares. Lewis shielded his face when the grenade went off a moment later, and all four slumped over at their workstations.
“Nice aim,” Bailey praised, looking at his side of the room.
He strode forward, examining the large space. “I figured why use two when I only needed one?”
“Show off,” Bailey stated, hurrying over to secure the administrative workers on her side of the room. There were also four there.
This was definitely a control r
oom. The area was lined with computer terminals, and at the front was a large viewing screen that looked out beyond the space station. Over the top of the window were the words, ‘Everyone imposes his own system as far as his army can reach. – Joseph Stalin’.
“Wow; insight into Vance’s inspirations,” Lewis said, pointing to the quote.
Bailey looked up, having bound four of the eight workers. “Well, we knew he was power-hungry.”
“And now we know he is soulless.” The detective sighed, nudging one of the unconscious guys to the side and taking a seat at his workstation.
Luckily the guy’s computer was still open, which made the next bit a lot easier. Lewis began browsing, trying to figure out exactly what Sutra 9 did.
“Did you find the database?” Bailey asked, binding the four people on Lewis’s side of the room.
“The one with probably several thousand consciousnesses? Oh, yeah. It’s sitting right here on this guy’s desktop,” he joked.
“Ha-ha,” she retorted, taking care of the guy at Lewis’s feet.
“Try searching for something called ‘Project Anarcho’, or something similar,” Pip stated over the comm. “I’ve hacked into their communications, and picked up several instances of that phrase.”
“ ‘Project Anarcho’,” Lewis said, typing. “Like anarchy?”
“More like anarcho-syndicalist, a popular idea under Marxism and Leninism,” Pip informed them.
“And now we know that Vance is motivated by politics as well as power,” Bailey said, finishing binding the last person.
“Well, he obviously has a giant distrust of the Federation, or he wouldn’t have betrayed us,” Lewis reasoned.
“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you identify with the Federation,” Bailey noted, leaning over his shoulder and reading the screen.
“I usually consider myself a lone wolf, but yes, I support the queen and all that she’s built,” Lewis stated.
He’d once felt abandoned by it all, when his father died, and there was no one to track down his murderer. That’s when Lewis had decided to be a part of the justice he sought, and took matters into his own hands. But he eventually realized that he was letting this personal tragedy color his opinion of something that was much bigger than he was.
“There!” Bailey pointed at the screen.
Lewis opened the file, scanning its contents. “There are five databases?”
“One of them being on Pochli,” Bailey said, reading.
“And none of them here,” Lewis finished, tapping his fingers. He suddenly connected the dots. “Hey, remember when DJ drew the map of Precious galaxy, and told us it was where Commander Fregin was located?”
Bailey nodded, her eyes still on the screen. “Yeah, I remember.”
“Maybe that’s because of the five different databases,” he reasoned. “What if her consciousness has been copied to each, or transferred between?”
Bailey looked down at Lewis, her eyes wide. “And that’s why DJ saw those specific locations.”
Lewis pulled the proximity drive from his pocket, and set it next to the computer as he started to copy the files for Project Anarcho. “We can try mapping the five locations when we return, and see if they match DJ’s drawing.”
“My instinct tells me they will,” Bailey said, turning around.
A noise echoed outside the door to the room.
“Oh, shit. I think someone found the downed guard,” she said.
Lewis tapped his hands on the desk, watching the progress bar. “Just a few more seconds, and we’ll have the database locations.”
“Pip, we need you to come and pick us up,” Bailey ordered. “We’re going to require a quick getaway.”
“I’m ready!” he called back.
Outside the door, voices were yelling. Boots hit the floor at a run.
“Ten more seconds,” Lewis relayed, his hand hovering over the proximity drive, ready to grab it and run.
Bailey pulled both her guns from their holsters, checking them. She gave Lewis a cautious glare. “You ready to go out there guns blazing?”
The computer beeped. He grabbed the drive, and jammed it into his pocket, standing up tall. He pulled his own weapon from his holster, enjoying the cold metal in his hands.
“Hell yes. I’ll go right and you go left.”
Chapter Eighteen
Sutra 9, Asteroid Belt, Cacama System
The rush of adrenaline was like candy in Bailey’s veins. This was what she lived for. The buzz. The moment right before the fight. The taste of vengeance in her mouth.
She salivated at the thought of taking out the soulless followers of Monstre Corp.
In the hallway, she could hear voices as the enemy prepared to ambush them. Monstre Corp knew they’d been invaded and, by the sound of it, they didn’t appreciate the trespassing. But honestly, they’d made it too easy. They thought that Ghost Squadron was gone, that their monster had taken out all potential threats.
Bailey lifted her guns in front of her chest, and shook her head. Monstre Corp is wrong, and they are going to pay.
She slammed her shoulder onto the button for the entrance door, and the divider slid back. Before those on the other side could register the open door, Bailey whipped around the corner, guns pointed to each side, and fired. Her head swiveled as she spotted her targets and picked them off. First, she took down three soldiers on her right, and then two others on her left. By the time the troops figured out what was happening, she’d already taken out their first line of defense.
She slipped back into the control room, pressing against the wall as she reloaded.
“Did you save any for me?” Lewis asked.
With her head back, she nodded. “Ready?”
“Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here. The décor in this place is going to make my eyes bleed,” Lewis said, angling his back against Bailey’s.
They stepped out together, firing in opposite directions. Although the guards were equipped with armor, Bailey quickly identified the weak spot in their covering, knocking out four more targets.
Her hallway was clear. She turned to find Lewis taking down the last soldier on his side. “Good work,” she praised, stepping over the fallen bodies. The soldiers were dressed in muted white uniforms, with matching guns. They all had a little red on them, now. “What’s the quickest way back to the docks?”
The detective indicated the hallway on his side. She nodded, following him. Bailey had noticed that Lewis had an instinct for direction, almost like his brain wrote the blueprint for a building upon entering. She hoped he wouldn’t be too egotistical to ask for directions, if needed, but was grateful in this instance he didn’t need to. She didn’t think the Monstre Corp soldiers would be very helpful.
She heard the soldiers approaching before they materialized around the next corner. She picked off the first one, killing him instantly, and then slid up against the wall, pulling Lewis beside her. The second soldier peeked out, but Bailey was faster, shooting the guy in the leg to knock him to the ground. She hurried over and kicked his gun away from his hand, then knocked him unconscious.
Lewis reached into his pocket and pulled out the other concussion grenade, twisting it and throwing it back the way they’d come in one movement. A moment later, there were several thuds as bodies hit the ground.
“Nice,” she called, putting her back against the door to the stairwell.
She pushed through and whipped her gun around, searching the space. The landing and next flight of stairs were clear, but below, there was a thundering of footsteps.
Lewis looked at her, levity in his eyes. “You have any more of those grenades?”
“You read my mind,” Bailey said, reaching into her pouch, and retrieving three red orbs—explosive grenades that hopefully would clear the stairwell.
She handed one to Lewis, and said.
“How about we throw one together and then you throw the last a moment later?” Lewis said, he reopened the
stairwell door, and took a step into the hallway. In concert, the pair twisted their grenades and tossed them over the rails.
They had ducked back into the hallway before the detonation rocked the ground under their feet, sending smoke up from the lower levels. Bailey listened for movement, thinking maybe they wouldn’t need to take any more defensive measures.
A moment later, the thundering on the stairs resumed, coming closer.
She rolled her eyes, and twisted the third grenade before tossing it through the door. It rolled down the first set of stairs before it exploded.
The detonation forced Bailey back against the wall, nearly making her trip over a fallen guard. The soldier she’d shot in the leg was conscious again and reaching for a radio on his belt. She shot the radio, making the guy jump back. He was fine—mostly—but the radio on his hip was in pieces.
Lewis looked at her in awe.
She shook her head, disappointed. “Seriously, Monstre Corp can build into the side of an asteroid, but they don’t have comm technology? What’s wrong with this place?”
“I think it’s the D-factor,” Lewis observed, looking about.
“Our comms work,” she reasoned.
“They were built by Hatch.”
She nodded, opening the door to the stairwell and listening again. It was silent.
“Come on,” she encouraged, starting forward and taking the steps three at a time.
Lewis picked up his pace, staying right behind her, though he paused several times to check their back.
Bailey rounded the second to last flight, and the door in front of her opened. She caught the flash of a white uniform, and didn’t hesitate; pulling up her gun, she shot the guard who came into view. Before she’d made it down to the landing, the door began to open again.
She leapt down the rest of the stairs, and crashed into the door, knocking back the person on the other side. A grunt followed the impact.
“Do you have any more grenades?” Lewis asked, joining her.
She shook her head, struggling to keep the guards on the other side of the door from busting through. A close ambush like this would be deadly. She dug her heels into the ground as she pushed her back harder into the door.
