by Jay Posey
Lincoln swiveled back around, caught back up the extra few paces he’d lost on Wright, and then ran smack into her when she stopped abruptly in front of him. She pushed off him and dropped to a crouch, instinctively providing security down one corridor. Lincoln followed suit, bringing his weapon around to cover the direction they’d just come.
“What’s the problem?” he called.
“Door’s a wall,” Sahil said.
“What?” Lincoln said, and he glanced over his shoulder.
“I mean there ain’t a door here,” Sahil answered. “Ain’t nothin’ but a wall.”
Sure enough, the route on his visor was leading them right through a sheet of solid steel. With the new data, the suit’s navigation system tried to reroute, but after a few seconds flashed a warning. NO ROUTE. Either there was no way to get there from here, or the suit realized it didn’t have enough data to plot a new route. The result was the same either way. Lincoln’s element was stuck in the middle of Flashtown with no idea how to get out.
Wright fired off two quick shots, and someone cried out in answer.
“What are we doing, captain?” she called.
From back the way they’d come, a pair of thugs came around the corner, one with a pistol and the other armed with what looked like a machete. Lincoln fired a burst, dropping the man with the gun, and sending the machete wielder scampering back to cover. The mob was on its way. If Lincoln and his teammates got hemmed in, there was no way they’d be able to shoot their way out. Lincoln’s mind raced through the possibilities, threatened to overwhelm him. They were too exposed here. There wasn’t time to cut through the wall, and even if they did, there was no telling what they’d find on the other side, no guarantee they could reach a known exit. And every second he spent thinking through it was a second lost.
The machete-wielding man risked another peek, and Lincoln fired, punched a hole through the man’s right biceps. The machete clattered to the ground.
Out. What was the best way out?
But then his training kicked in, words from a mentor sounded clear above the confusion.
Relax. Look around. Make a call.
He took a breath, steadied himself. Best way out was the wrong goal. Any way out was best.
Lincoln had an idea. Good enough to act on, and he didn’t dare think beyond that.
“Sahil, how much boom do you have left?” he asked.
“Couple charges,” Sahil answered.
“Follow me!” Lincoln replied, and he set a new destination that he knew his system could route to: the nearest location adjacent to the station’s hull. His team fell in behind him without hesitation, and they pushed through a dangerous tangle of irregular passageways. Even the urban combat Lincoln had seen didn’t match the complexity of the environment he was moving through now. The only thing they could count on with Deck 47 was its blind corners and sudden intersections; they always popped up at the worst possible time and place. He took to firing suppressive rounds in the direction of anyone who emerged, bystander or otherwise, directly engaging only the few who appeared with guns in hand. Behind him, Wright and Sahil fired sporadically, using whatever protocol they’d developed for themselves in the chaos.
“Highrise, this is Downtown,” Thumper said. “We’ve got good tap on the relay, we’re on our way out. Looks pretty clear, whatever you did must be working–”
“Contingency’s blown,” Lincoln said over top of her. “Say again, contingency’s blown. We’re scrambling.”
“What do you need?” Thumper said, his intensity creeping into her own voice.
“Get the Coffin, get clear, watch for my beacon.”
“Roger, Downtown’s moving!”
After a mindnumbing number of twists and turns, and low on ammo, Lincoln arrived at the destination. A small apartment at the outer edge of the deck. The thin, metal door was shut. Lincoln didn’t even slow.
He kicked the door right below the handle; it blasted open, slammed back into the wall with a crack as he rocketed into the front room. A man and woman sat on the floor by a low table, both with eyes wide in shock and fear, hands up in defensive positions. The man had a knife, Lincoln brought his weapon on target–
And held fire. Plates on the table, food, drinks. The man wasn’t threatening, he was in the middle of eating. In a blink, Lincoln flicked on the suit’s external speaker.
“Down, get down, get down on the floor!” he shouted, pointing his weapon at them. “Down!”
The man screamed and both he and the woman flopped face down on the floor, covering their heads with their hands. Wright continued straight through the room, stepped up on the table and leapt off, sending the meal flying in every direction as she moved violently to clear the back room. Sahil slammed the front door shut, and with one hand grabbed the nearest piece of large furniture, a short empty bookshelf, dragged it over.
“Clear!” Wright called from the back.
Lincoln dropped to a knee beside the woman, placed a hand on her back. The man was too hysterical to reach, but the woman seemed to be keeping it together for the moment. Sahil grabbed the table they’d been eating on, threw it into place to wedge the front door.
“We’re not here to hurt you, stay calm, stay flat. Nod if you understand,” he said. A moment later, the woman nodded. “Good. Is this room pressure sealed?”
The woman nodded again. Sahil continued to stack whatever he could find against the door.
“Good,” he said. “My friends and I are going to go through to the back room, as far back as we can get. We’ll seal the doors behind us. Stay down, stay flat, do not follow us. Do not let anyone follow us. Nod if you understand.” She nodded. Lincoln motioned to Sahil to move through to the back. Outside, the shouts and sounds of pursuit grew louder, closer. Sahil pushed through to the back, waited at the door.
“I’m going to say it again, so it’s clear,” Lincoln said to the woman. “Do not follow us, and do not let anyone open the door.”
The woman nodded vigorously. A sharp bang rattled the front door of the apartment, angry voices shouted for them to open up.
“Good,” Lincoln said. “I’m sorry about the mess.”
And then he was up, and into the back where Wright was waiting for them. Sahil closed the door behind him, locked it.
“If the map’s right, this should put us closest to the exterior,” Lincoln said.
“Yeah, if,” Wright said.
“Which room’s smallest?” he asked. Wright pointed, and Lincoln went to it. “Sahil, set up here, back wall.”
Sahil nodded and went to work.
“Punching through?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Lincoln said.
“How far?”
“All the way.”
Sahil turned back to look at him over his shoulder. The faceless metal plate somehow still managed to express skepticism.
“All the way,” Sahil said, “like to the outer?”
“No, all the way like through the outer. All. The. Way.”
Sahil hesitated only for a moment, then shook his head, and said, “All right. Gonna take me a couple to shape. And we don’t wanna be in here when it goes.”
“We’ll hold the corridor,” Lincoln said. And then, “Downtown, what’s your status?”
“Downtown’s in the Coffin,” Thumper answered. “Pulling free now. Where are you?”
“Deck 47, outer rim. Watch for my beacon!”
“Copy that, we’re on our way up. What lock are you using?”
“Just watch for my beacon!”
Lincoln raced back to the door leading to the front room, Wright following right on his heels. He unlocked the door and cracked it open, saw the man and woman still on the floor, face down, just as they’d been directed. The roar from outside the apartment told of dozens, struggling to break in. The front door shuddered under heavy blows. Someone fired a burst, punching holes through it and spraying splinters off the furniture Sahil had stacked as a barricade. Wright dropped to a
crouch, angled around so she could get a shot on the door without getting in Lincoln’s way.
A few seconds later, the front door rocked and bulged near the cluster of holes. A second blow followed; this time the heavy head of a maul punctured the door.
“Sahil,” Lincoln said, “time?”
“Two minutes!” Sahil answered.
“We don’t have two minutes!” Wright called.
“Make it!” Sahil replied.
The head of the maul worked back and forth until it was free, leaving a rent. Another blow struck, tearing the hole wider.
This time, when the maul withdrew, Lincoln sighted in on the gap and fired a burst. A scream rose above the clamor, but there was no way to tell if it was from pain or rage. Whether Lincoln had hit anyone or not, the maul didn’t strike again.
For a few seconds, the door remained unattacked.
Then, a gun barrel poked through and went spiraling around, spewing rounds into the interior. Lincoln ducked back behind the wall. The low-velocity rounds of the enemy’s weapon didn’t penetrate the wall, thankfully. That likely meant it wouldn’t penetrate Lincoln’s armor either, but given what they were about to do, he didn’t want to take any chances. He waited until the gun clicked empty, and then leaned around and fired two more rounds through the gap in the door.
The front door shuddered again and this time drove inward, ramming hard against the makeshift barricade. The table fell out of place, tumbled to the floor. The front door opened three inches, enough for Lincoln to see faces on the other side. The man and woman scrambled up, crawled on all fours to the far side of the room.
Wright fired a burst, then another, driving back the swarm from the door for a few moments. But it was hopeless now. Whether expecting reward from Mayor Jon, seeking vengeance of their own, or just looking for a fight, the crowd was frenzied. They were coming through that door, no matter the cost.
“Sahil!” Lincoln called.
“Almost!”
More gun barrels appeared in the gap of the front door, these aimed in a much more deadly direction, and erupted. Lincoln pulled back, but too late. A hard impact punched his left shoulder, spun him, sent him stumbling. Wright stepped up into the doorway and fired back.
“Hit, Lincoln’s hit!” she called.
Lincoln recovered his footing, glanced at his shoulder. The plating was scored on top from the round, but there didn’t appear to be any penetration. The suit’s readouts were all green.
“I’m good, I’m good, I’m good!” he answered. And he rejoined Wright at the doorway, opening up on the front door, now open six inches or more.
The guns had all been withdrawn, and the people outside had mostly backed out of harm’s way. A few moments later, Lincoln saw why. A small black sphere bounced heavily into the room.
Wright shoved Lincoln to the side, and he flew off his feet, back down the corridor towards Sahil. She threw herself back against the wall, flung the door closed and braced it with her legs.
The concussion from the blast clouded the corridor with dust and warped the door. Smoke filtered in around it. There was no way they’d be able to seal it now.
“Wright, you good?” he called.
“I’m good!” she answered, as she was struggling up to her hands and knees. Lincoln rolled up to his feet, grabbed her arm, dragged her up.
“We’re primed,” Sahil called. “Cover up, keep your arms and legs tucked in!”
Lincoln looked down the hall to see Sahil emerging from the small back room.
“Ready?” Sahil called. Lincoln could hear the crowd flooding into the front of the apartment. They were all about to have a really bad time.
“Hit it!”
“Detonate, detonate, detonate!” Sahil said. And a moment later, the back wall of the room evaporated. Lincoln’s suit capped the volume of the explosion and absorbed some of the concussion, but there was no way to miss the vibration that passed through him. In the next instant, he was hurtling towards the ragged three-meter-wide hole in the side of the station. He tucked his arms and legs as best he could as the evacuated atmosphere ejected him and rocketed him out into open space.
It was twenty seconds before he had his tumble under control enough to be able to get his bearings. He located Sahil and Wright, both floating a few dozen meters away. With practiced fluidity, Lincoln kicked around and used his microjets to stabilize and then propel himself in the direction of his teammates. As far as he could tell, they were the only ones floating outside the station, which was a minor miracle. Maybe that inner door had held after all. Or at least, was holding for the moment.
“Highrise, sound off,” he said.
“Wright, OK,” Wright responded.
“Nakarmi, OK,” Sahil said.
“Suh, good to go,” Lincoln said. He activated his beacon. “Downtown, Highrise is floating. Got a second to pick us up?”
“We’re en route, captain,” Thumper said.
Lincoln joined up with Wright and Sahil, and waited the few minutes it took for Thumper to bring the Coffin around. Lincoln hated open space. It felt unnatural, the yawning nothingness in every direction. Lincoln had no fear of heights, but the fact that there was absolutely nothing below him filled him with a subtle anxiety. And the fact that there wasn’t even technically a down just complicated matters.
Fortunately, the wait wasn’t too long. Once they had visual, the three teammates freespaced towards the ship, and loaded in through the upper airlock. It wasn’t until everyone was secure on board and well on their way towards the linkup with their transport that the tension finally broke. Sahil was the first, and he broke the post-op silence with a rumbling chuckle that grew into a full-throated laugh.
Nobody had to say anything at all. They all joined in. Even Wright.
Mike pulled his helmet off.
“I can’t believe that actually happened,” he said. “You know nobody’s gonna believe that actually happened.”
“It didn’t just happen,” Sahil said, and then he pointed at Lincoln. “He did it on purpose.”
“I think Mayor Jon’s gonna be irritated about what you did to her station, brother,” Mike said to Lincoln.
“No man, that wasn’t me,” Lincoln said. “I’m not the breacher.” And then to Thumper. “You get what you needed in there?”
“And then some,” she said. “As long as nobody goes poking around the relay too closely, next time they use it, we ought to be able to see what lights up.”
“Let’s hope they use it soon,” Lincoln said. “That wasn’t quite the quiet exfil I’d been planning on.”
“Gutsy, I’ll give you that,” Wright said, and she flopped down two seats away. “Next time we split team, though, think I’ll opt to be on the other one.”
“I’ll trade with you,” Mike said. “I could use a little excitement for a change.”
“No way,” Wright said. “The two of you yahoos together, probably none of us would make it home.”
Mike sat down across from him.
“I reckon that was one for the history books, cap,” he said. “Too bad no one will ever know about it.”
“Let’s hope,” Lincoln answered.
There were a few more exchanges, a combination of informal debriefing and teammates swapping stories. But with the mission more or less accomplished, and everyone on their way home safe and sound, the last traces of Lincoln’s adrenaline burned off. It left his body feeling simultaneously empty and impossibly heavy. The rest of the team seemed to be feeling it, too. Conversation gradually died down again. They had a few hours of travel ahead, and then who knew how many more of waiting after that to see if anything they’d just been through would pay off. Lincoln laid his head back, and let out a long, deep breath. There wasn’t much more they could do now but sit and wait.
Lincoln had never been very good at either one.
SEVENTEEN
“WHEN YOU SAY ‘LOST HIM’,” Vector said, “what exactly does that mean?”
“Just what it sounds like,” the Woman answered. The intensity was there, all business. “Gone. Cannot be located anywhere on Luna or the vicinity of.”
“How long?”
“At least seventy-two hours,” she said. “I’d guess longer. I suspect Apsis was not immediately… forthcoming about the disappearance.”
Vector did the quick mental math; travel time, logistics. Even if there was a vulnerability, it didn’t seem likely there was any connection. Not in that timeframe.
Still.
“Flashtown?” he asked.
“No evidence of a connection,” she said. “The trouble was contained to the upper decks, far from the relay. It sounds like rival gangs violating Mayor Jon’s cardinal rule and paying the price.”
“So coincidence, huh?” he said. “Just so happens?”
“It would seem.”
“Sounds a little familiar.”
“Too,” she said. “How badly can Prakoso hurt us?”
“He’s compartmentalized,” Vector said. “But… he’s Prakoso. His work’s done, and he never knew exactly what its purpose was, never had direct connections to any of our first-tier people. If he really wanted to come after us, I’m sure he could find a way, but he’s not stupid. Seems more likely he’d just disappear.”
“I agree. But I’m moving the timetable up, to be safe. How close are you?”
“Not long now. Ship’s rigged up, we’re just taking care of some the internals. Few more days at most.”
“And if the next strike goes forward immediately?”
“Shouldn’t interfere if it comes a couple days early,” he said. “That’s all friends-of-friends kind of work. No impact on us, assuming it goes through.”
“Very well. I’ll have them execute. Get your ship underway, nearer to position, but somewhere out of the way, off scopes. I may need you to to move more quickly than anticipated. I don’t want you having to burn in and make a lot of noise.”
“Understood. What about you?” Vector asked, trying to keep the tone professional, operational. “You at home now?”
