by Jack Heath
He was fortunate at least that the anteroom between the bathroom and the hall outside was a long one, with granite walls. The guard outside was unlikely to hear any noise softer than gunfire. This still left the radio as a problem, but the soundproofing was better than nothing, and it gave Six a few options.
One: He could slide under the door or cubicle wall and kick Neeq’s legs out from under him. But this soldier was well trained, and Six bet on a thirty or forty percent chance he’d be shot before he reached striking distance. Not good odds.
Two: He could jump over the toilet wall and land on Neeq—the gap between the wall and ceiling was about eighty centimeters, so he could do it. But without a run-up and with the forced angle of an ascent that vertical, the strength of the blow would come entirely from gravity. There was no way Six could put any of his muscle power into the attack, and Neeq was a big man. There was every chance that Neeq would just throw Six to the ground and shoot him. Likelihood of survival with this strategy hovered at only around fifty or sixty percent.
Three: Six could keep up the pretense of cooperation until he’d already come out of the cubicle, and then improvise an attack while he was washing his hands or exiting. But Six knew that as soon as he left the cubicle, Neeq would be on the alert again—not because he suspected that Six was up to something, but because he knew that there was a hostage in the next cubicle, and this was his best chance to escape.
Chances of survival: around eighty, perhaps ninety percent.
That seemed to be his best option right now—or was it?
Six smiled to himself as he began unfastening the bolts that connected the cubicle wall to the frame that was fixed into the tiles at the back of the cubicle.
Fortunately, these weren’t standard bolts. Each one was a powerful iron magnet that connected the cubicle wall to the metal rods stuck into the main wall of the bathroom. If the bolts had been screws, then Six would probably have needed a screwdriver to get them out. But with the magnets, he could pull them right off with a bit of effort.
“Dr. Shuji must have her own private bathroom,” Six said aloud, as he worked. “The toilet paper in here is only two-ply!”
“She’s probably got some bot specially designed for the job,” came a shaky voice from the next cubicle. “Already poised to hit the market, the ultimate bathroom accessory—a robot that dispenses five-ply toilet paper.”
Theoretically, the code words were supposed to be so innocuous that Neeq wouldn’t become suspicious. But, Six thought, if I were him, I’d be on my guard as soon as either of us said anything at all. At least now I know I’m saving the right person.
With a silent pull, the last bolt in the wall came loose. Six slipped it into his pocket and braced himself.
Now!
Six slammed one foot against the wall that the cubicle shared with the next one, and shoved his hands against the wall he had disconnected from its frame.
The wall exploded outward, skittering across the floor tiles and striking Neeq’s wrists. Neeq cried out and dropped his Falcon. Six scrambled off the floor and quickly rechecked his surroundings. Neeq must have moved—but at least he was unarmed now.
Neeq reached for his earpiece.
Six lashed out with one foot, slapping Neeq’s head. Neeq still tried to touch the button on his earpiece, but Six had it covered with his foot. Neeq angrily swung a fist at Six’s skull, but Six twisted to one side, neatly dodging the blow, and then retaliated with a strike of his own: an uppercut to Neeq’s jaw.
Neeq’s gas mask popped off, and he grunted in pain. Giving him no time to recover, Six ducked around behind him, grabbed his hands, and then held his elbows together with one arm. Neeq grunted again as his arms were forced behind his back. Six slid a hand up to Neeq’s neck and pressed his fingers in behind a gland.
Neeq immediately slumped into Six’s arms, out cold.
Six lowered him gently to the ground, and listened carefully. Nothing. There was no sign that the guard outside had overheard the brief scuffle. “Mr. Hoz!” he whispered. “You can come out now.”
A man came out of the cubicle next to Six’s. He had black hair and pale, greenish eyes. He had probably been quite a handsome man before Shuji’s goons had captured him. Now he walked with a slight limp, his clothes were ragged and torn, and his face had several disfiguring purple welts.
“Thank God you’re here,” he said, his eyes beginning to fill with tears. “Thank you so much for coming. I never thought I’d make it…”
To Six’s surprise, Hoz stepped forward and tried to embrace him. With more instinct than thought, Six parried Hoz’s arms away, spinning him around, and grabbed him by the shoulders.
“We’re not out of trouble yet,” Six said. “Put these on.” He began stripping Neeq’s unconscious body.
Hoz shakily put the uniform on. The fit wasn’t perfect, Six thought, but close enough.
Six dragged Neeq into a cubicle and sat him down on the toilet. He closed the door, locked it, and climbed over the wall.
Hoz was waiting for him by the door, wearing Neeq’s uniform.
“You know what to do?” Six asked.
“Yes.” Hoz’s voice was garbled slightly by the gas mask.
“Then let’s go. We have to hurry things along—the situation is worse than we thought. As soon as the guard outside is out of sight, take that uniform off or you risk being shot by Deck agents. Clear?”
“Yes,” Hoz said. “Crystal.”
“And try to hide the limp,” Six said. “Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Follow me.”
Six pushed open the bathroom door, and they stepped outside.
The remaining guard froze when Six exited. He turned to Hoz.
“Mr. Darris,” Hoz said. “Your man is still in there.” He hesitated. “If he’s still there in another ten minutes, perhaps you should…check on him.”
The guard nodded slowly. He understood the implied message—the prisoner was procrastinating. Put a stop to it. He opened the bathroom door and stepped inside.
“Go,” Six hissed. “Go!”
He and Hoz sprinted up the corridor—or rather, Hoz sprinted, while Six jogged.
This man has been imprisoned for at least eighteen months, Six thought, working on the AI programming for the bots. He hasn’t seen daylight in all that time. He would have been on a minimum food ration, with little sleep, no exercise, frequent beatings, and the threat of death constantly looming over him.
And to top it off, he’s only human.
All that considered, he was running pretty fast. He was probably very fit once.
Either that, or he was pushing himself to his absolute limits. He knew what he had to do to survive, so somehow he was finding the strength to do it.
Six admired that. It showed logic and determination. He picked Hoz up with one arm and slung him over his shoulder.
Immediately Hoz sagged, his completely drained muscles all relaxing at once.
“I can make it,” he said.
“You can’t.”
“If the guard sees us—”
“He won’t.” Six put on an immediate burst of speed.
Within moments they were around the corner. Six lowered Hoz to the floor.
“Mr. Hoz,” Six said. “Can you still hear me?”
“Yes.”
He’s still conscious, Six thought. A good sign.
“You…run fast.”
“Save your energy. Speak only when spoken to,” Six said. “I need you to show me where the hostages are being kept.”
“It’s in the west corner.”
“I know. But I don’t know how to get there. We couldn’t get blueprints for this building.”
“This corridor will lead you to the northwest side. Turn left, go to the end, and down two flights of stairs.” He coughed. “It’s not far. They had to put—”
“They had to put you near the bathroom, I know.” The Deck had guessed rightly that Shuji would want the ho
stages to leave their holding area as little as possible, and so she had made the bathroom close by. They had used the bathroom as the meeting place with Hoz so he could lead Six quickly to the others.
Six helped Hoz remove Neeq’s uniform and put it on himself.
“Mr. Hoz, try to stay conscious,” he said. “You can rest when we get you to safety. It is imperative that we get to the other hostages immediately. If we don’t, then Darris will radio security before the Deck agents storm the building, and they’ll be prepared for the attack. If he radios them before we even arrive at the hostage room, then they’ll kill both of us on the spot. Understood?”
Hoz nodded wearily.
Timing was crucial to this mission. Everything so far had been a ruse to ensure that when the Deck agents reached the guards posted outside the hostage room, one of those guards would be Agent Six. The taser in Six’s pocket was strong enough to knock down a big man. It couldn’t kill anyone, but a shock to the head or neck would result in an immediate temporary blackout. Six was to subdue any of the sentries who attempted to harm the hostages when the Deck agents appeared. That way, none of the enemy soldiers would escape (the agents were moving in from every entrance) and the number of casualties among the prisoners would be zero.
Six was wearing Neeq’s uniform now, complete with the bulletproof armor, ChaoSilent boots, and helmet with gas mask.
“Time to go, Mr. Hoz,” he ordered. “Try to look exhausted.”
Hoz laughed bitterly as Six lifted him to his feet.
IF YOU WANT TO LIVE
Okay, Six thought. Here goes nothing.
There were two sentries posted outside the door. One was standing at ease, cradling his Falcon; the other was sitting in a chair. They both nodded to Six as he approached the door. Six nodded back and shoved Hoz forward roughly. He didn’t like doing it, but he didn’t want the guards to smell a rat. Hoz whimpered convincingly—genuinely terrified of them, Six guessed.
One of the sentries pressed a button.
The door slid open.
Six grabbed Hoz by the shoulder.
They were both walking towards the opening…
…when the radio in Six’s stolen helmet exploded into life:
“Attention, all personnel! Emergency! Emergency! We have an escaped prisoner, working in conjunction with an intruder!”
It was Darris.
Shuji’s voice came through the headset, icily calm.
“The intruder and escaped prisoner are to be terminated on sight. Consider them dangerous. Prison guard team, kill the hostages and protect the western entrance. I repeat: Kill the hostages and protect the western entrance.”
“Did you hear something?” the guard who’d been standing at ease asked Six.
“Only a burst of static,” Six replied. “Probably interference from another facility, or a solar flare. I’ll check with the radio crew once he’s taken care of.” He pointed a thumb at Hoz. “I’ll get approval from Shuji to contact the radio crew from the landline inside.”
The guard sitting in the chair said nothing. This was because as soon as he had heard the word “attention” in his helmet, Six had swiftly blasted his neck with the taser, knocking him unconscious. He wouldn’t have heard any of the message before he blacked out, still propped up in his chair.
The other guard hadn’t heard anything either—he had a magnetic bolt from the toilet wall stuck to the side of his helmet. It had demagnetized all the data in the descrambler chip in his helmet, making his digital radio completely useless. Six had put the bolt there so fast the guard hadn’t even seen him move.
“Yeah, make sure you do that,” the still-conscious guard was saying. “Something weird’s going on today; I can feel it. Get him inside.”
Relieved, Six pushed Hoz through the doorway.
Some of the prisoners glanced up as Six and Hoz stepped inside.
“I’m in the holding area,” he whispered.
“Copy that, Six,” his earpiece crackled. “The strike teams are being given the green light. Expect us to reach the holding area in seven minutes maximum. Good luck.”
The ceiling was painfully low. Six almost had to stoop to fit in the room. Unlike the rest of the facility, the holding room was not styled with polished chrome and rounded edges—this was a filthy concrete basement.
Rickety steel tables sat on the gritty floor. The lights were cheap, bright neon globes. There was a stain on the wall in the corner. Six thought it looked like blood.
There were about thirty people in the room.
A woman forced a smile for Hoz as he collapsed onto the floor. She didn’t look at Six.
A man in his thirties was sobbing in the corner. He ignored them both. A girl in her early teens cradled her head in her hands.
How ironic, Six thought. She must be incredibly gifted with computers for Shuji’s henchmen to kidnap her. Some people are just unlucky.
An older woman sat on a table, staring into space, probably thinking of better days. Was she old enough to remember pre-Takeover times? Six wondered. That’d give her something better than this to think about.
The door rumbled shut behind them. Six took off his mask.
“Your attention, please,” he said loudly. “My name is Agent Six of Hearts, and I am employed by the Deck. Deck agents are currently on their way into the facility. In approximately six minutes”—he set his stopwatch as he said this—“your captors will be arrested and you will be rescued.”
No one spoke.
“You need to calmly but quickly set up a barricade with these tables,” Six continued, “staying low at all times. Lay them on their sides, with the tops facing the door, and stay behind them. I want you to remain there until I say it’s safe to move. Do I make myself clear?”
More silence.
“Excellent. Move!”
No one budged.
“This is essential to your survival,” Six shouted. “Your best chance is to do exactly what I tell you, when I tell you. Build a barricade out of these tables right now!”
A handful of people stood up. Some looked down at their filthy bare feet. Some went to the tables, but there were still people sitting on them. A few sat back down on the concrete.
“I’ll get them to do it,” Hoz mumbled. “You do your job—guard the door.” He dragged himself to his feet and shuffled as quickly as he could over to a bare table. Then, straining with all his strength, he lifted it onto its end.
The woman who had tried to smile joined him. The teenage girl stood up, too. A young man started work on another table, and the man who’d been crying joined him.
Soon the room was in motion.
Six went to watch the door. He crouched just to one side of it, prepared to spring as soon as a guard entered. He gripped the taser firmly in one hand.
And now, he thought, we wait.
“Attention, prison sentries,” Shuji’s voice said in Six’s helmet. “Have you reached the west entrance yet?”
Uh-oh, Six thought.
“Prison sentries,” Shuji said again, “have you reached the west entrance? Have the hostages been executed?”
There was no reply, of course. Neither guard could hear her; one was unconscious and the other had a jammed radio.
“Attention, all units,” Shuji said. “Those who are currently defending the entrances stay there. All those who have not yet reached the entrances, head to the hostage holding area immediately. Kill the hostages and await my instructions.”
Oh no, Six thought. “How many soldiers am I looking at?” he asked.
“There have been surprisingly few soldiers attacking our entry team,” Two said, “so I’d guess they’re all at your end. I’d say that you’re looking at at least two hundred troops.”
Six groaned. Two hundred soldiers! He’d never be able to fight them all off.
“What’s their ETA?”
“The nearest groups will reach you in about two minutes.”
Okay, Six thought. Time for a change
of plan.
“Can you get me a helicopter?” he asked.
“Sure. How many civilians have you got in there?”
Six did a quick head count. “Thirty-two,” he said.
“We have a Mother here—it holds about thirty. More than that, I can’t promise.”
All right, Six thought. Time to get out of here. He turned to face the hostages working on the barricade.
“In approximately ninety seconds,” Six said loudly, “this room will be stormed by more soldiers than we can fight, and the Deck agents are not going to reach us in time.”
The hostages looked at him.
“You need to do exactly what I say if any of us are ever going to leave this building. Understood?” Nobody moved.
Six sighed. “Come with me if you want to live,” he said.
BREAKOUT
Thirty-two escapees and one Deck agent sprinted through the gleaming chrome corridor.
Come on, move faster, Six thought, turning his head to watch the stragglers. The farther we are from the hostage holding area, and the quicker we reach the edge, the less chance we have of running into enemy commandos.
Too late.
Four soldiers appeared at the end of the corridor. The goggles of their black masks reflected the ragged, terrified hostages as they skittered to a halt and tried to run in the other direction.
The escapees at the front saw the soldiers first, and they were the first to turn and flee. The prisoners behind crashed into them, and the whole crowd wobbled with confusion and panic.
“No!” Six roared. “Stand your ground!” With a tensing of calf muscles, a push of hamstrings, and a flick of his ankles, he was in the air, hurtling towards the soldiers headfirst.
He barreled into the air, arms outstretched and fists clenched, looking like a black broadsword thrown hilt first.
Six didn’t quite make it as far as the soldiers. About a meter away he opened one fist and put his hand on the ground, then used the momentum of the leap to swing his legs around, spinning horizontally, and kick the legs of the first two guards out from under them.
An instant later Agent Six was on his feet, and the two guards hit the ground like bowling pins. Six stepped immediately to one side as Falcon bullets riddled the ceiling.
