by Tammy Salyer
As soon as the footsteps begin to fade, I try to raise the other two in my throat-mic: “Strahan, Desto, what’s your position? Do you copy? Over.”
There’s no response for a long second, then Desto says, “I sweet talked them into following me, but they couldn’t keep up. I’m a floor above you now. I’ll meet you at the hangar. Over.”
“Copy. Strahan?”
“Right outside.” He presses the door open with the barrel of his rifle. “Let’s go.”
I don’t know how he gave them the slip, but the soldiers took Desto’s bait and have all double-timed out of the area. Moving quickly, we cover the last hundred meters to the connecting corridor. Luck is with us—it’s clear. We take the speedwalking belt running along one side and make it to the far end in just a few breaths. The weapons labs are a floor below us, immediately adjacent to the docking hangars.
An empty guard booth at the end of the corridor provides enough cover for us to stop for a few seconds to catch our breath. The bandage Strahan wrapped around my thigh is holding tight and the wound is barely bleeding. I can’t feel a thing. Strahan crouches inside the booth and activates his mic. “Desto, where are you?”
“Coming up on the first hangar, level seven. Looks like there has been some activity. I’m looking at one, maybe two squads of wasted soldiers. Over.”
We exchange a knowing look. Rajcik’s work.
“Hang tight. We’re still on nine. We’ll meet you at hangar zero-one. Out.”
With a nod, we move out, running left toward the end of the corridor where another stairwell will take us down. I bang through the door and train my carbine down the shaft. No one. Strahan’s right behind me and we begin descending.
Passing by level eight, my feet barely touch the steps. The sound of the door swinging open above me causes me to jerk to a sudden stop on the next landing and nearly topple over the side. Gripping the rail, I spin around and see a squad pouring through the door between Strahan and I. He manages to come to a stop a few stairs above them and trains his rifle at the three who have crammed onto the landing, but who knows how many are on the other side of the door? I begin reversing direction back up the stairs to get a clean line of fire, but Strahan suddenly turns and starts running back up. The sound of his boots on the metal stairs draws their attention, inciting them to follow. Strahan’s voice comes through my earpiece: “Keep going, Aly. I’ll shake them and meet you in the hangar. Over.”
They don’t have a firing solution on him and he has a solid lead. I press my back against the wall to stay out of sight and continue to slip down the stairs. Strahan wouldn’t tell me to keep going if he isn’t certain he has an out, but that doesn’t stop my pulse from going into overdrive. I have the advantage with every soldier in this section probably chasing Strahan and Desto, but now I’m on my own. There are no guarantees in this, no matter how good at the game we are. It’s possible that I’ll be able to slip into the hangar unnoticed. But then what? Will Rajcik still be there?
Quietly cracking the door onto level seven, I study the corridor and go through. Motorized transports line up along niches in the wall along the wide corridor, ready to transport newly off-loaded supplies to their destinations throughout the station. Dead soldiers crowd the hall a few meters away, their blood streaking the walls. Yet another advantage, but there’s no pleasure in seeing the carnage. Judging by the burned and mangled condition of their corpses, whoever did this used an explosive.
“Desto? Strahan? Anyone copy? Over.” No answer. Maybe they’re already in the hangar.
The wall separating the corridor from the docking hangars is a meter thick and built from high-strength, low-alloy steel with a melting point of over 3,000 degrees, more than capable of protecting the complex from the engine blowback of incoming and outgoing ships. A service tunnel into hangar zero-alpha opens up just beyond the pile of corpses. It has been nine minutes since we left the bio labs, leaving eleven minutes until the crew dusts off and disappears for good. It doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving without my brother. He wouldn’t leave me.
My VDU displays the saved pass code and I step to the side while the door slides open. Thick blue smoke pours from the gap, enveloping me and creating a fuming cloud in the corridor. Pushing away from the doorway, I fall flat against the floor waiting for a fire to rush out but none does.
What the hell is going on? A fire inside one of the hangars should trigger the Fortress’s hull security response, completely disabling all of the doors leading in and out. If the integrity of a hangar is compromised, the entire complex could by destroyed, ripped to pieces by the vacuum of space. Somehow, the internal security defenses have been disabled. The station has taken a lot of damage from the prisoners, but not that much. It has to be Rajcik.
Blaring fire alarms inside the hangar slice through the air, mixing with the ever-present dull whump of the general alarm and setting my teeth on edge. Tendrils of the smoke caught in the service tunnel trail out and a quick look through the doorway reveals that it’s empty. Still, I can’t see much of the hangar beyond. A rotating red strobe light fixed on the entryway roof flashes in circles, giving the tunnel a crazed funhouse kind of effect. I’ll be target practice if anyone is guarding the entrance from hangar-side, but I don’t have time to look for another way in. Keeping the AK-80 stock pressed firmly to my shoulder and crouching low, I run for everything I’m worth to the other side.
Caustic vestiges of smoke line my lungs, but nothing stops me from reaching the bay. Two parked track tugs sit beyond the entryway, one partially obscuring it, the other about thirty paces forward and to my right. Random crates and barrels are pushed into groups and a catwalk with a control pod for maneuvering a ceiling-mounted crane traces the wall on the bay’s left side. Clouds of smoke rise toward the ceiling but no fire. The tracker offers good coverage and I lunge toward it.
The best vantage of the bay floor is the catwalk, but the tracker’s left runner conceals me while my eyes adjust to the auxiliary lights flashing in yellow strobes on the ceiling. Climbing up the ladder to the cab lets me peer over the side to see what lies beyond. The Temptation sits near the launch track airlock.
How did he get clearance to land? It’s hard to believe a ship with the Temptation’s notoriety could, but it hardly matters at this point. The ship sits in the middle of the dock, loading door still open and engines cycling in preparation for launch. There is no movement around the ship visible from where I hide and the flight deck screens face the airlock. Whoever’s inside the cockpit, probably Thompson, won’t be able to spot me. The dock control room is about sixty paces to my right. Either Rajcik or Yadav must be in there prepping the interior airlock to open so the Temptation can enter the launch track. Is the Nova already on board?
Carefully climbing back down to ground level, I prepare to move in closer to the ship. The only other crewmember is Fedchenko; Rajcik wouldn’t have had time to enlist more cohorts, but he could be anywhere. It’s just me against four. Even if I try to raise Strahan and Desto, the mic is useless in this kind of noise.
As if reading my mind, the shrieking alarms cut out abruptly. The good news is short-lived, however, as the dock control room door opens and Rajcik comes through, staring in my direction.
And he’s not alone.
He pushes my brother in front of him to use as a bullet-stopper, one of his muscular arms locked around David’s neck and the other jamming a Sinbad into his temple. Before thinking of the consequences, I shout, “David!”
Rajcik’s arm tightens around David’s throat, almost jerking him off his feet and making him unable to respond. Deadly calm, he says, “Aly, you never fail to impress me.”
I can’t risk the shot. If I expose myself, Rajcik will drop David before I can pull the trigger and I’ll either hit my brother or miss altogether. Dammit, Strahan, Desto, get your asses up here now!
Pressing my back into the tug’s track, I shout, “You don’t have to do this, János! I don’t give a fuck about the bomb
or the money, just let him go!”
An icy chuckle wafts across the bay to me. The only other sound comes from the Temptation’s engines as they slowly gain momentum, building energy for flight. “Negotiations don’t work with me, Aly. When will you learn? You and your brother have caused me far too much trouble, and I want retribution.”
I risk a glance around the track. He’s dragging David toward the ship, his eyes fixed in my direction. David’s eyes are blackened and still swollen, but they’re open. But he’s moving strangely, swiveling his head left and right, squinting as if he’s trying to locate the sound of my voice. His eyes never seem to focus.
Rajcik shakes him. “Go on, David. Tell her what I plan to do with the Nova. I want Aly to know before you both die.”
My line of sight is cut off as they move behind the track vehicle and continue to close the gap to the ship. If they get on board, there’s no way I’ll be able to reach them. Sweat drips from my forehead, running down my cheeks and neck into my shirt. Not a muscle in my body relaxes and my carbine stays steady at shoulder level. I have a window of about eight meters from when they become visible on the other side of the tug to when they’ll be walking up the ship’s loading ramp. Those eight meters are my only chance of stopping Rajcik.
“Tell her!” Rajcik yells.
David’s voice, strained by the pressure of Rajcik’s tight grip, cuts through the smoke. “He’s going to wipe out Tunis City. There was never going to be any extortion. He’s just a sick fuck and—” He’s cut off.
Christ, he knew? Goddammit, David, you should have told me! If you had, we wouldn’t be here right now! This is no time to get angry; I need to get in position for the shot. I hear Ortiz’s dying words again, “He’s going to drop the Nova…kill everyone.” But how had David known? The reason Rajcik wanted us dead is finally clear. We never would have helped him get the holodisc and steal the Nova if we’d known what he intended to do with it. We would have done anything to stop him, and he knows it. I don’t know how David found out or how Rajcik knew he had, but he’s seconds away from paying the price for not shooting Rajcik when he had the chance. Unless I can do it first.
I’m going to kill you, Rajcik. If it’s the last thing I do.
“There you have it, Aly! Now you can see what a monumental pain in the ass you two have been to me! But I think we’re done now. Get out here and say goodbye to your brother.” It almost sounds as if Rajcik is laughing, but as they move around the other side of the vehicle, there is no grin on his face. His black eyes are fierce and his lips are pulled back from his gleaming incisors in a snarl. Dragging David along, he shuffles backward toward the open hatch of the Temptation. I catch a glimpse of someone’s rifle barrel from inside the hatch, providing Rajcik with more cover.
There’s a noise above me, a sharp gonging sound like metal on metal. Everyone looks toward it simultaneously. Strahan!
David drives his head back into Rajcik’s face and a wet, smacking sound reports across the bay. Then he lunges forward toward me, staying low, and I open fire. A fine, red mist of blood erupts from Rajcik’s shoulder as he takes a bullet, but the sonofabitch is so fucking fast. He starts running before David gets more than a few steps away and quickly takes cover inside the Temptation. Strahan fires a screen of bullets from above me, keeping the shooter inside the ship from getting a clear shot while David runs for his life across the bay.
“RIGHT HERE! I’M HERE!” The sound of my voice helps him make it to the tug in a blind shambling run that proves his vision is jacked up, and I grab him by the shirt, pulling him to safety. Strahan continues to keep Rajcik and the shooter inside the ship busy. Holding David by the arm, I start to run, pulling him toward the tunnel to the other side. Almost the instant we break from cover, automatic rifle reports issue from the dock control room. I leap backward, still holding David and he lands nearly on top of me, just as bullets bounce off the steel floor in front of our feet. We’re covered from every angle.
Leaning back against the tracks again, I crane my head up to see Strahan on the catwalk. He has good coverage of the entire dock and is well hidden behind a stack of cargo bins. Whoever’s inside the dock control room is completely concealed and has a perfect line of fire between where we’re hidden and the tunnel I came in through. Rajcik, firing from the Temptation’s loading ramp, also has a direct line of fire at us if we leave the concealment of the tug. Strahan can’t hold off both of them and David can’t see to either fire or run to the tunnel. Basically, we’re fucked.
Tapping my mic, I whisper, “Desto, do you read me? What’s your position? Over.”
Silence.
The sickening realization that Desto is probably dead washes over me, but I squash it. I have to. Brushing the sweat soaked hair from my face, I call Strahan, “I’m going to try and drive this tracker to the exit. When I stop, see if you can make it to the other side and help us get out of here.”
“Roger.”
Cutting through the ties on David’s wrists, I realize how thin he’s become. His clothes hang from his skeletal frame and I’m surprised he even had the strength to run for cover. “Can you see at all?”
“Not a goddamn thing,” he says, and then adds, “How the hell did you get here?”
“I’ll tell you later. Look, we’re hiding behind a track tug. There’s a handhold about a meter above you, by your right hand. You’re leaning against the step. I’m going to go up first and get it started. When I yell, try to get up. I’ll help. You ready?”
“Yeah.”
I scramble up the tracker’s side and into the open interior. It’s too high up for anyone on the ground to get a shot at me, but as soon as they hear the engine crank up, rifle fire begins clacking off the sides. The doors are reinforced and nothing but a direct, level shot is going to get through them. Leaning out from the open left-side door, I call down to David. He reaches up, hand scrambling along the side and I direct it to the handhold. Grimacing, he pulls himself onto the cab’s floor, keeping his body low and compact.
Reversing fast, I force the tug into the wall and we come to a shuddering stop. Bullets continue to bounce off its thick tracks, having no effect, but our angle is good; we’re between the dock control room and the exit tunnel. The Temptation now has the only line of fire and Strahan won’t ease up to let them get a shot.
I launch over the side and direct David’s feet to the ladder rungs, helping him down. “We’ve got to run like hell. Just hold onto my shirt.”
He nods and we take off at a sprint through the tunnel entrance. The safety door at the other end is still open and I push him against the wall while I check the corridor. Clear.
The sound of rifle fire from the hangar stops. We pause at the end of the tunnel for a few seconds, hoping to hear Strahan. Seconds later, his voice echoes down the corridor from my right. “Hold your fire!”
Appearing through the smoke about twelve meters down the hall, he races to us and engages his mic: “Vitruzzi, Brady, do you copy?”
“Where the hell are you, Karl?”
“Look, we found Erikson’s brother, but we’re still at the loading docks. We need ten more minutes.”
“Dammit, Strahan! You’ve got eight! Out.”
He takes one of David’s arms, ready to run.
“Wait,” I say. Strahan stops and turns, his expression tense and expectant. “You take David back to the ship. I’ll meet you there.”
The disbelief on his face might be funny in other circumstances. No, probably not.
David says, “Aly, what are you talking about?”
Strahan looks as if he wants to shoot me himself. “No fucking way. We’ve got to go.”
“No! If Rajcik gets out of here with the Nova, a lot of people are going to die!”
“No way, Aly, there’s no time!” Strahan argues. “Don’t be so fucking stubborn. For once—”
I grab him, both of my hands gripping the straps of his equipment vest, and shout, “He’s going to detonate it, Karl! He
’ll kill millions! I can’t let that happen. Take David back to the MCACS, okay? If I’m not there in time, just leave. Don’t risk it. I’ll find another way out.”
David starts to argue, “Aly, no…”
“Just go!”
He reaches blindly toward me, his eyes somehow able to find mine and lock onto them. I grab his searching hand. Strahan studies me for a bitter second, grabs David’s shoulder, and turns to run. With a final squeeze, David turns away and they double-time down the corridor.
TWENTY-THREE
Gulping a lungful of acrid air, I make my way back down the service tunnel into the hangar. Even Rajcik won’t suspect I’m crazy enough to come after him. He’s probably dead certain that we’re headed toward the escape we should be making—that Strahan and David are making. Right now, that’s my only advantage. Creeping deftly along the wall, I can’t make out any movement in the bay. The smoke that had hung like a thin fog has diminished to a minute tendril, more an oily taste in the back of my throat than something visible. There had been no indication of chemical fire retardant self-ejecting in any of the sectors we’ve been through, so the fire, wherever it is, must be burning itself out.
Crouched low, nearly squatting, I reach the end of the tunnel and run for the cover of the tracker. The voice telling me I’ll never see my brother, or any of them, again makes my hands feel shaky as I train the carbine around the tracker’s side, looking for my next move. The auxiliary lights still spin in sinister yellow flashes, but the bay is clear of my old crew. At least from what I can see. Climbing into the tracker’s cab, the sound of machinery suddenly catches my attention and I duck low behind the control apparatus. The only thing I can see is the ceiling, and finally the thing I’d missed all along becomes obvious.
The Nova hovers fifteen meters above the bay floor, suspended by a network of steel chains from the ceiling crane. Parked directly beneath it, a four-wheeled electric cart is prepped to carry it on board the Temptation. As I watch the weapon’s slow descent, my eyes track to the catwalk and the man standing at the controls. It’s Fedchenko, and he’s completely focused on the bomb. He doesn’t know I’m here.
