by Tammy Salyer
The three prisoners rush into the guardroom, their expressions a mixture of disbelief and joy.
“Where are C.M. and Kazaki?” Strahan asks.
“Dead,” the older woman says.
Bitter sadness tightens their features momentarily, then melts into acceptance. Gratitude that we’ve found anyone at all will come later, if there is a later.
Facing the woman who’d spoken, I ask, “We’re also looking for another prisoner. A man named Erikson. David Erikson. Have you seen him?”
She looks at me curiously. “I haven’t seen any others. It’s just us.”
It feels as if a giant vacuum sucks my heart straight from my chest, collapsing my chest wall in the process and making me breathless.
Then the man says, “No, I saw a guy when they brought us in here. Couple hours ago. They were taking him somewhere on a gurney.”
My voice is almost a whisper. “What did he look like?”
“I didn’t see much. He had reddish hair like yours, and he looked like he was beat to hell. His eyes were all jacked up.”
“Was he alive?”
“I don’t know.”
I don’t know…the words chip through my composure as if they were daggers of ice. “Do you know where they took him?”
“No. No idea. I’m sorry.”
“V, we’ve found them. Over.” Strahan presses on with the mission.
“Everyone?”
“Just Zeta, Jade, and Doug. The rest didn’t make it.”
“What about Erikson’s brother?”
“We don’t know where he is. You haven’t seen him?”
“No.”
I break into the transmission. “Vitruzzi, I’m going to sweep the labs. I’m not leaving until I know something.”
There’s a pause. No doubt Vitruzzi is questioning whether she’s willing to add more to the risks we’re already taking by spending time we don’t have searching for David. Then: “We’re on our way up to your level. Is everyone mobile?”
“Roger.”
“We’ll start aft and meet you in the center. Out.”
Bodie and Strahan hand extra weapons to Zeta and Mason. Strahan takes point and risks a quick glance outside the guardroom door. He gives us a nod and begins moving down the hall. Bodie immediately follows, then Zeta. Mason goes next. Before I bring up the rear, I turn to see why the short woman hasn’t moved out. She is visibly shaking and pale, scared shitless. I don’t have time to babysit, so I strip the Mini-Derg from my shin holster and push it into her hands. My face is inches away from hers. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Her eyes, already wide, bulge. Goddammit, where’s your survival instinct? “Do you want to live?!” I have to be harsh, make her mad, make her realize she doesn’t have time to be afraid.
She nods.
“All right.” Remembering her name, I add, “That’s good, Jade. ’Cause if you’re ever going to see the light of day, you better move your ass and keep that gun up. Do you understand?”
She nods again with more energy. Checking again to see if the corridor is still empty, I squeeze the girl’s arm—she can’t be more than seventeen—and nudge her out the door.
Moving in a ragged formation, we cover the last three holding cells, all empty. The corridor opens up into a semicircle at the end, like a stadium. The schematics show the labs branching off from this central area, but there’s little cover inside that nexus. For now, it’s clear and we rush to the first lab.
The room is easily as large the Sphynx’s cargo bay with a door at the far end leading into a smaller storage room. Nothing moves inside and the lab is dark except for the illumination of several workstation VDUs in rows along the room’s center.
I grab Strahan’s elbow. “There are four labs on this level just as big. We need to split up if we’re going to cover them quickly.”
“All right. Bodie, you four check out the next lab.” Pressing his throat mic, he says, “V, what’s your position?”
It’s Brady who answers, “We’re taking fire! Stuck in the elevator at the far end of level two. They can’t get in, but it’s disabled. It’s going to take us a few minutes to get to you. Desto is trying to rig it to move.”
“Dammit,” he mutters.
“Strahan, you and the others watch your asses. It’s not the soldiers, it’s the prisoners. They’re rampaging.”
“Fuck.” This time he curses loudly. “We need to get down to level two and help them.”
I’m not giving up the search for David, even if I’m doing it on my own. Strahan shoots me a look, reading my face. With a tiny shake of the head, he turns to the rest. “You four, take the stairs and flank the shooters, but watch your backs. Security could be on us in any minute. Try to get the rest of the crew up here to help cover these labs. Aly, I’ll stick with you.” He turns back to Bodie. “Let V know you’re coming. Let’s move.”
I’m not expecting the wave of relief that washes over me. Having someone with me is good; having Strahan is ten times better. David’s still got a chance, if he’s alive.
They take off at a run down the corridor to the stairwell we’d come up. Strahan gives me a nod, and we duck into the lab and scrub the room, finding no one. It’s abandoned and it looks as if they left in a hurry. The consoles and lab equipment are still running and several tubes with who knows what kind of bio-specimens rest in containers on a few counters. As we approach the door to exit, a noise from outside alerts us that we’re no longer alone. Quickly, we crouch behind a nearby cabinet, securing clean fields of fire to the doorway.
“I just need to grab a few things. Won’t take a minute.”
The sound of that voice throws me, and it takes me a second to realize why. It’s Vilbrandt. I’d almost forgotten about him, but the fact he’s here now confirms that Rajcik is too. I glance toward Strahan, and the look of contempt on his face makes it clear that he recognizes the voice too. Two sets of footsteps enter the room.
“What’s in here that’s so important?”
My eyes widen at the sound of the other voice. Ortiz!
“Things! Things that your boss wants! Now please be quiet and let me find what I need.”
We stay kneeling silently behind our cover as objects are shoved quickly and haphazardly out of the way while he searches. The Nova is in the station’s fore, stored in one of the weapons labs. What could be so important to Rajcik that he would send the scientist to this end? The answer is only too obvious and I stifle a shudder of revulsion. Rajcik wants Vilbrandt to bring back whatever feculent biowarf specimens he’s been developing. That kind of shit brings limited interest on the black market. There are still buyers, but maybe Rajcik’s not planning to sell it. If I know him, he’ll put it to more personal use. Maybe dose the drinking water of an Admin office complex, or just wipe out a military base. With the right resources, Rajcik’s brutality has no limits.
I look back toward Strahan, wondering what he’s thinking. I have no problem shooting Vilbrandt, in my book he’s the lowest form of life, but Ortiz is another matter. She’s committed her share of crimes, the same as I have, but she’s never displayed the lack of human feeling, or conscience, that some of the others in my old crew have. Inside, she’s not a monster, and maybe she would rather help me find David than continue to work with Rajcik. If I can talk to her, maybe I can turn her.
Strahan readies his pistol, preparing to stand and fire. Before he can, Ortiz says, “Drop that shit, Vilbrandt. You’re not taking it.”
A quick look around the edge of the cabinet shows Ortiz standing in a marksman’s pose with her carbine aimed at Vilbrandt’s head. He’s facing her with several sealed tubes held up and his lips pulled back from his teeth in rabid hate.
“Don’t be stupid. Drop it? Do you have any idea what would happen to both of us?” His question is followed by silence, and he continues, “Your boss wants it. You’re going to help me get it.”
“No, you’re wrong about that. I’m—”
Be
fore she can finish the sentence, gunfire erupts in the hallway outside. Instantly, I crouch lower, bracing against the cabinet, and lose visibility of the lab. A pistol fires inside the room, and there’s a heaving gghhhhht! sound, as if someone got the wind knocked out of them. Before either Strahan or I can move, running footsteps enter and another shot is fired. This time there’s the unmistakable sound of someone’s head opening up and spilling its contents at peak velocity against the floor and walls. People are yelling, their voices moving down the corridor outside, but the room is quiet. Whoever entered is still here.
“Strahan?”
“Vitruzzi!”
She’s standing inside the open door, guns up and ready to fire, looking out into the hallway. At the sound of her name, she jerks her head back toward where Strahan has leapt out of hiding.
“Where’s Erikson?” she asks, and I step into the open.
Ortiz lays to my right, blood burbling from her chest. Vilbrandt’s body has been blown backward and flops awkwardly over a desk. One fist is clenched around a pistol grip and blood flows in a growing pool beneath him. I didn’t need to see what happened, experience explains everything. The scientist had been crafty enough to hide a pistol and shot Ortiz when the gunfire from the corridor distracted her and Vitruzzi fired on him when she came in. The vials he had been holding lay scattered around his body, unbroken.
“We have to move. Venus has been picking up transmissions from security and they’re on their way toward us. They could lock down the docks any second and we won’t be able to launch.”
Strahan bounds around the equipment, ready to get the hell out of here. Despite the urgency, I squat down next to Ortiz. She’d been the closest thing to a friend I had on Rajcik’s crew and something about her going out this way triggers compassion for her I didn’t know I had.
Her eyes open when I put a hand on her arm and she recognizes me. “Aly.” Blood speckles her lips as she whispers, “You’ve…got to stop him. Rajcik. You’ve got to…” She coughs and more blood erupts from her chest.
“I’m sorry, Ortiz.”
“Listen.” Somehow, she finds the strength to grab my hand. “He’s going to drop the Nova on Tu-Tu-Tunis. Kill everyone.”
My eyes widen. That sick bastard. “Why?”
“Crazy.” A fog begins to dull her eyes and the blood seeping from the side of her mouth has become a dark, thick red. Her chest stops its desperate hitch to draw in air and I think she’s gone, then her fingers tighten on mine again for a moment and she whispers, “He has…David.”
“What? What?” But it’s useless, she’s dead.
Dropping the Nova on Tunis City? It’s…exactly the kind of thing he would do. And he has David, just the way he’d promised. Rajcik’s duplicity and craftiness and his ability to play multiple hands of poker at once are traits I’ve always recognized in him, admired even. How could I not have seen that he was playing T’Kai and maybe his own crew in the Nova job? He had certainly played David and I from the start. Do the rest of him know his plan? Do they care?
I look up and see both Vitruzzi and Strahan staring at me, their faces mirroring my own turmoil. Vitruzzi presses her mic. “Patrick, what’s the situation?”
“Elevator is operational. Three squads are on the stairs headed for your level. Get down here now!”
As Brady finishes his sentence, a pistol report erupts inside the room. Strahan and Vitruzzi drop instantly, but I’m still crouched by Ortiz’s body. Vitruzzi fires through the open doorway and the body of a prisoner falls inward, face down on the floor.
“Get to the elevator.”
She covers the entrance, peering down the corridor. In a smooth motion, she brings one of her pistols to shoulder level and fires down the hallway, five, six, seven times. Then she turns back to the room and says something. Oddly, I can see her mouth moving, her eyes wide and emphatic, but I can’t hear what she’s saying. I feel as if I’m inside a thick plastic bag and nothing from the outside can penetrate. Hearing that David may still be alive has stunned me, making me realize how certain I’d been that he was already dead.
Vitruzzi’s eyes shift from me to Strahan and she begins yelling more urgently, pointing at me, but it’s as if her voice has been whipped away in a strong wind. Strahan’s head snaps back and his eyes widen. I start to rise, but my leg refuses to hold me and I tumble forward, hitting the wall in front of me with my palm. He runs up beside me and kneels, his face inches from mine. “Aly, you’re hit!”
Sound returns, bringing a searing shock of pain along with it that suddenly bursts from my left thigh. I look down and see a rip in my pants with blood oozing through, about six inches below my hip. “Fuck.” My voice sounds much too calm.
“What’s it look like, Karl?” Vitruzzi yells.
He leans forward and pulls the tatters of the rip apart, saying to me, “Shallow. Looks like it went through. Can you walk?”
“Yeah.” Through numb lips. With gritted teeth and a timid nausea beginning to take hold of my stomach, I push myself up. No way is this going to stop me.
“Good.” He yanks open a pocket in his vest, pulls out a field bandage, and deftly wraps it around my thigh, tying it off with a tight yank. “V, got anything to numb this with?”
She pulls a syringe from a med bag she carries and tosses it to us. Strahan rips through the packaging with his teeth and not bothering with delicacy, presses the needle into my thigh. “Dammit! Careful!” Searing pain rips through my wounded flesh and quickly begins receding to a suggestion.
He gives me a half grin that’s calm and cool, not a normal expression for someone outnumbered by both Corps and criminals, all ready and willing to cut him down. “Let’s get out of here.”
Back in motion, we leapfrog up the corridor to the elevator, passing the bodies of the prisoners Vitruzzi shot. Brady holds the elevator doors open and the rest of the crew is lodged inside. Just as we reach it, we hear the stairwell door at the other end of the hallway slam against the wall.
Vitruzzi steps inside first, crowding against the others when a sudden, explosive WHOOMPFFF! echoes throughout the complex. The floor bucks beneath us and the elevator jumps slightly on its rails. Immediately, thick black smoke begins pouring into the corridor from every direction.
“Get in!” Brady yells.
Strahan and Vitruzzi cram into the elevator. I don’t.
“What are you doing, come on!” Bodie cries.
“I’m not leaving.”
Strahan pushes to the front of the elevator. “You’re going to find your brother?”
Nodding, I respond simply, “I can’t leave. He’s all I’ve got.”
“I’ll help,” he says, and steps off the elevator, followed by Desto. “We’re with you, Aly. We’ve come this far.”
I can’t speak, my disbelief more paralyzing than shock. But I know I probably won’t get much further alone. My voice shakes as I finally respond, “Rajcik will be in the docks at the front of the station. Nearest the weapons labs.” Even while studying how to infiltrate the Fortress, I’d also been calculating what his plans might be. I knew he would never give up, just as I knew instinctively that our paths would cross again.
Vitruzzi scowls, considering the situation. She knows I won’t change my course, but she won’t abandon Desto or Strahan either. Not when there is any chance, no matter how small. “You’ve got twenty minutes to get back to the prisoner transport. We’ll be waiting.” The elevator door closes.
The smoke filled corridor gives us enough cover to duck into the nearest lab before the advancing soldiers see us, and we hunker together for a minute to sketch out a plan.
“The ninth floor is the most direct line to the bow. The connecting corridor, if it’s still accessible, is going to have the least amount of cover. If we move toward the docks near the weapons labs and don’t run into any security, it should take us five minutes.” Strahan looks me directly in the eye, the message we’ll never make it in time stamped on his face. He’s probabl
y right, but that’s not going to stop me.
The squad securing our level runs by, not bothering to clear the rooms, apparently just trying to reach the elevator and get away from the smoke-filled hallway, a perfect cloak for an ambush.
“I’ll take point. Karl, you get our six,” Desto says. He glances outside and breaks for the stairs with us on his heels.
We scramble up the stairwell and reach level nine without encountering anyone. Running fast now, taking chances we wouldn’t ordinarily take, we speed directly down the corridor as a unit. There’s no time to check if each feeder hallway is clear, and the corridor itself is wide, designed for high traffic. We may as well be running down the middle of a bull’s-eye. Desto skates past the opening of an adjoining hallway and a bullet glances from his armor, blowing puffs of fiber into my face. I’m right beside him, running as hard as I can to keep up, and have to duck across the opening, firing blindly as I go by. Strahan doesn’t even slow down, skidding across the opening on his knees, firing into the squad racing to catch us. I reach back to grab his hand and pull him back to his feet. We keep running, blowing our lungs out to make it to the next hatch before they can get behind us and fire up the corridor.
We make it.
Strahan stops long enough to disable the entry mechanism with a ball of E-10 wax and catches up as Desto and I reach an intersection. Desto peers around the corner, then jumps backward. With his back pressed against the wall, he signals to us by sliding one hand under the other. Find some cover! Then waves a hand in front of his eyes. Get out of sight!
There’s a doorway right beside me and I slip inside, expecting them both to follow but they don’t. The door clicks quietly closed, cutting off sounds from the hallway. Where are they? For a moment the only thing I hear is my breathing, then an unfamiliar voice cries out, “Contact!” and shots begin echoing down the hallway. I hear someone running, more shooting coming from right outside the door, and a stampede of boots rolling down the corridor like thunder. Shadows pass under the gap at the bottom of the doorway. I tense up and press myself harder into the wall, forcing my hand to stay away from the doorknob. It would be suicide to jump into the middle of them.
