Vance flinched when Ben dove into the glass-walled security booth and let out a primal scream that sounded like it came from some injured animal fighting for its life, not the gentle man he had come to know so well.
Ben lunged at the guard, knocking him out of the rolling chair behind the desk. Papers and coffee from an overturned mug flew across the small enclosure. He rained down blow after blow to the struggling guard's face with a rage that rivaled anything Vance had felt before. Sweating and swearing strings of creatively brutal insults, Ben's fists flew into the guard without stop. Only when the blood splattered against the glass panels did he finally slump over the corpse and breathe.
He stood and wiped the man's blood onto his striped jumpsuit before coming to stand in front of Vance with an apologetic look on his face. "What did I just do?"
"You became a man. Feels good, doesn't it?" Krisharn chuckled darkly as he joined them. "Let's go."
The lights flickered twice then went black, leaving them shrouded in a welcome veil of darkness. Even if it meant a bit more tripping and fumbling around in the blackness, they would have the added ability of hiding in shadows.
A voice called to them from behind and the distinct click of a gun being readied stopped them in their tracks. "Halt! You three, you're not supposed to be out here. Put your hands where I can see them. You too, big guy. I can and will use lethal force if necessary."
Vance spun on his heels to come face to face with the guard at the end of the hallway with the AK-47 aimed at him under the pale yellow emergency light. Thinking quickly, he pulled the bandanna down and threw his hands into the air, trying to not appear as a threat. "The main room back there is already beginning to flood. If you don't get the prisoners out of that area, they're going to drown. I came up here to get away from it and to inform someone in charge."
"That's not my problem. If they didn't want to be in the cells, then they shouldn't have committed their crimes. It's that simple. Now, I order you to return to your assigned area."
Vance looked over at Krisharn for advice on what to do next. That is when he noticed that both Krisharn and Ben were smeared with dripping blood across their faces and arms. No wonder the guard did not buy his story about only looking for help. Murder and guilt hung over Ben like an over-sized suit jacket and Krisharn wore bloodshed like a master.
Krisharn spun Ben around and held him against his chest with the edge of his machete pressed against his neck. "Stay back, guard. Make one more move and this prisoner dies. I swear, I'll hack him to bits. Do you want his blood on your hands? No? Then turn around and leave."
"I'll shoot you too, alien."
The warbringer's massive muscles flexed underneath his leather harness. "Do you know who I am? I am Krisharn X-Azimandia. Does that mean anything to you? It should. I'm the one who was so deadly that I was exiled from the Azimandian Empire for crimes against the government. Do you really want to tango with me, human? I'll cut your neck then use your skull as my coffee mug."
For a split second, it seemed as if the guard was contemplating his situation and weighing his options, but he quickly turned and ran back down the stairs into the rising water.
"Good job playing along, Ben." Krisharn patted Ben's back and let him go. "Vance, get over to the control panel and shut those doors with your mark of logic."
"Why would he do that?" Ben asked.
"It can interact with electronics and computers if used the correct way. Vance, place your mark of logic against the control panel to give it enough energy to turn back on, then close the security gates on this side of the floor as well as the ones across the main room."
Once again, he thought to the prisoners and the guards in the lower levels. "But that will trap everyone down there to drown."
"Now is not the time for you to be concerned with your sense of justice and humanity, Warlord. This is war. This is survival. No one ever said it was going to be clean or easy."
Before Vance could move or protest, a tall man with dark brown skin, tight leather pants, and a short gold-fringed vest over a silk green shirt ran up to them and slung a backpack to the floor in front of the control panel. He pulled out a black box then began attaching wires to the panel. As he worked, black wisps of hair fell out from under his purple turban that was pinned with an emerald-encrusted brooch.
The stranger tore off strips of electrical tape with his teeth as he spoke to them. "I'm on it. You three get moving. I'll catch up with you in the reception area after I shut down the mainframe controls on this floor."
"Who are you?" Vance asked.
Ben tugged on Vance's sleeve. "He's my uncle, Tamir."
"I thought you said he worked in finance."
"Or something. This is the something, I guess."
"Go!" Tamir snapped at them while he typed into the screen that appeared on the box. "This is my specialty."
"What?" Vance asked, his mismatched eyes narrowing. "Breaking people out of prison?"
"Yes. Now, run, idiots. Stop gawking at me like you've never seen a turban before."
Krisharn snarled. "To be fair-"
"Shut up and run or you're going to die." He kicked his backpack across the floor to stop at Ben's feet. "Ishmael, take these hand grenades. Don't ask how I got them past security getting in here. Use them if you have to."
Ben gingerly tapped the bag with his bare toes. "Hand grenades? Like the ones that blow up?"
"No, the friendly kind with the whipped cream. Yes, the ones that blow up. You really are a special kind of man, aren't you?"
Ben opened his mouth to speak, but then he pouted and slung the bag of grenades over his shoulder. He sighed as he headed towards the door. "Come on, Vance. Don't be slowing us down now."
Vance followed behind them into a stairwell with signs posted for different floors. "Where are we heading?"
Krisharn pointed upwards. "Concourse floor. We're going straight out the front entrance."
"Why?"
"They'll never expect us to waltz right out the front door. Rule one in being unexpected: don't be expected."
"Wow. How long did it take you to come up with that one, Krisharn?"
"Just keep running. You like to think you're funny, but you're truly not."
Vance kept climbing the stairs until he reached the door marked as the concourse level. He pushed it open then ran out, but his wet pants slid on the newly-waxed floor and he hit his back. He reached out to stop himself, but he could not grab onto anything and he felt his feet go over the edge below the railing towards the floor on the bottom story.
"Whoa!" Ben caught Vance right as his knees slipped off of the balcony overlooking the lower level concourse. He had to grab onto the railing and brace himself there in order to keep Vance from careening over the edge. He helped to pull his husband back up to his feet."You're okay. You're okay. Watch out."
Vance peered over the edge of the balcony to see the guards and medical personnel milling about in the lobby. From out here, it appeared as if nothing was going on inside, as if hundreds of high security prisoners and guards were not drowning to death in the lower levels. Masses of news crews and reporters were filming in front of the glass doors by the light of the streetlights and flashing red from the ambulances. Citizens were being pushed back from the perimeter of the building by police officers.
"What now?" Vance asked.
Krisharn hissed at him. "We leave."
"How?" Vance asked.
"The plan remains the same."
"You're saying we're going to march down there with all the guards and all the cameras, dressed in our jumpsuits, and covered in blood? Do you think they'll be in such a state of shock that they won't know how to react? You've lost your mind. Looks like those warbringer hormones finally destroyed your last brain cell, mate."
"This is where Benjamin proves he's got balls under that jumpsuit. He knows what he has to do."
Ben's eyes grew even wider behind his pink-rimmed glasses. "I . . . I do?"
"The
bag you have on your shoulder."
"Grenades? Really? You want me to toss grenades down there?"
Krisharn rubbed his eyes with his claws in frustration. "Don't toss them. Throw them as hard as those skinny arms of yours can send them. It's all about making a distraction for us to run to the doors on the sides. See them there and there beside the main ones? Those are the emergency exits. If we can cause enough chaos to distract these guards and the media, then we will be free to get through the doors and take off through the streets that wind through the city."
"Hello, fellows." The man in the purple turban slid out of the stairwell and knelt down beside Ben. "We've got ourselves in quite the predicament."
Ben's face lit up. "Tamir, you made it."
"Of course I did. Ishmael, what is going on? Are these your friends?"
"It's Benjamin now. Yes. The big one is Krisharn. And this . . ." He took Vance's hand. ". . . is my husband, Vance."
Tamir grinned, flashing bright white teeth. "A pleasure to meet you both. We will speak more once we reach a safe area. Do we have a place to go?"
"My ship."
"No." Vance glared at the warbringer. "We're going to my ship. I have to get my belongings."
Krisharn snorted. "And by your ship you mean that beat-up hunk of tin that used to be an escape pod? We can't all fit on there."
"Then at least let us find where they took the stuff we had on us when we were arrested. I can't leave Rav's revolver behind."
"Are you serious? We'll get him a new one."
"No. He needs that one. It's been through everything with him."
"You mean this one?" Tamir spun the black revolver in his fingers then handed it to Vance. "Found it on one of the guards I killed back there. I think he had claimed it for himself, greedy bastard."
Vance checked the orange fiber optic sights then activated the lever for the thin under-barrel blade. "This is it. Thanks. Ben said you worked in finance, but you don't seem like the business type."
"Oh, I am in the finance business. I take people's finances and make them my own. It's a very lucrative business model."
"Grrr. Enough of this." Krisharn poked his head over the top of the railing once again. "We need to get moving before these paramedics start heading into the rest of the building. I don't want to be flanked in the dark."
Ben snickered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. The way you said that was hilarious. Continue."
The warbringer gave him a stern warning glare before motioning to the doors with his horns. "Grenades. Pin activated only. Pull pin. Throw them. Boom. We run. Is that simple enough for you, My Queen?"
Ben took one of the palm-sized textured balls from inside the bag and held it up in the dim light. "I don't know how to use it." He grabbed the pin and pulled it out, tossing the thin metal strip to the floor. "Do I just pull this pin like this?"
Vance gasped and tried to pry the grenade from his husband's hand. "What the hell is wrong with you? Throw the damned thing!"
"Oh, okay." Ben tossed it over the side of the balcony just in time. The explosion shook the building only a few feet below them. "Yay! I did it!"
Screams and sirens filled the crowds outside the building as the glass shattered. Flashlight beams shined up towards them as the guards began rushing the stairs at the opposite end of the balcony.
Krisharn snatched the bag away. "No more grenades for you. Everyone, run to the door on this side. I've got this. Go! I'll be behind you."
Vance wasted no time in taking his husband's hand and running with him down the stairs at the closest end of the balcony. His lungs burned, his legs ached, and his heart raced, but he pushed himself harder and harder until his feet hit the black and white checkered tiles of the concourse. Nearly slipping again on the polished marble as two more explosions made the entire building quake, he caught himself on Ben's shoulder and continued running to the door. With shaking hands, he pushed it open, half expecting it to be locked.
The fresh air and early morning sunlight greeted them like an old friend. The scents and coolness of freedom only briefly distracted Vance before he was shoved to the ground, falling face-first onto the rough concrete. He looked up to see Tamir standing over him.
Tamir dropped down as well with Ben by his side. "Stay down. We have to remain hidden."
Pulling pins out with his teeth and lobbing the grenades into the crowds, Krisharn slid down the curved staircase. As the last explosion rang out and sent people screaming from the scene, he did a front flip off of the end of the banister to land on his knees in front of the open door. He slid through to join them in the street. "That's how you throw grenades, boys. Well, stop making out with the sidewalk and let's get going. I know a shortcut through the back streets. Get up, My Warlord. A little more running and we're in the clear. Don't die on me now."
Chapter 12
"Please don't die. Please don't die. Please don't die."
Rav covered his mouth with his trembling hands as he sat in the corner of the med bay and chanted his short prayer to whatever powers would listen. The room was dark aside from the bright lights that shone down only over the operating table against the opposite wall where Derek was busy examining every inch of Nemo's body. They had been there for nearly forty-five minutes since Nemo had collapsed and his heart stopped beating. For a human to go that long without a heartbeat was death. For Nemo, it was rapidly approaching the same outcome.
The monitors for the computers that the tiny boy was hooked up to were still blank, not registering a signal from Nemo's processors or hard drive. No amount of coolant helped. No number of electrical shocks brought him back to consciousness or jump-started his heart. Derek had been there for thirty minutes, creating all manner of drugs and connectors, but nothing had worked.
The cyborg's lights on his face plates turned from yellow to blue as he stepped away from the operating table. He looked over at Rav and slowly shook his head.
"Nothing?"
Derek once again shook his head.
"What about his programming? His memories? His emotions? What about the things that make him who he is? Is all that intact?"
Derek began signing, so Neon stepped forward from the side where he had been reading a magazine.
The Biromian signed with Derek for a few moments until he turned to Rav. "He says there's a chance Nemo is only in a stasis, not actually dead. Since his heart has been altered as well, it could be pumping, but not registering as beating in order to conserve energy. Derek says he has seen this before in Olonictic infants who were gravely injured in their first six weeks of birth. It's a last-ditch effort to preserve brain function. Because Nemo is part Olonictic, this could be his way of naturally fighting off whatever virus has been attacking his system."
"How can we find out?"
"Derek is willing to perform one more test that will tell us if he is indeed alive or not."
"Why hasn't he done it yet?" Rav asked, checking the time on his communicator. "Why is he wasting time?"
Neon signed with the cyborg again then sighed. "He says it could be irreversible."
"What's irreversible?"
"To do this, he has to open Nemo's head and disconnect the memory storage and processing lobe from the main parts of the hard drive then reattach them. Losing that connection for even a split second could have detrimental consequences. Without the memory storage, Nemo wouldn't-"
"I know what it means." Rav bit his lip as a cold shiver ran over his arms and down his spine. He stared between his knees at the tiles below his sneakers. "Do it. Tell Derek to do it."
Neon's green beads clinked together on the ends of his yellow hair as he turned to Rav. "Are you sure?"
"I'm tired of this. The way he's been, Nemo isn't my son. He's just a shell holding an echo of the boy I've loved. Bring him back fully or not at all. If it means burying my son or restoring him to the giggling, happy boy he used to be, then I will take that risk."
Derek nodded his head as he turned back to the boy and prod
uced a small bone saw.
Rav did his best to not watch the stomach-turning scene unfolding in front of him. The buzz of the saw against skull was already too much. When the nauseating sound stopped, he steeled himself to look up.
Derek was leaned over the boy with a tiny pair of tweezers, picking away at something inside the brain tissue. The cyborg's lights switched to green and he smiled. He turned to Rav and gave him a thumbs-up sign.
Nemo's eyes shot open and he sat up from the table. He immediately began crying out. "Daddy? Daddy!"
Rav rushed to him and took his son in his arms. "Shh. I'm here. Your daddy is here."
"I feel funny."
"What do you mean? Are you in pain? Does it hurt?"
He shook his head then looked up at Derek. "He did it to me. I feel . . . ah!"
"What? What is it?"
Nemo fell back onto the table and began jerking violently.
"He's having a seizure!"
Neon pushed him away then held Nemo down so Derek could strap his arms and legs to the table. "Please step back, Rav. Let Derek take care of him. Rav, let him go."
Rav stepped back, letting his son's hand slip from his grasp. "Save him. Please save him. I was wrong. Even if he's not the same that he was before, keep him alive, no matter what."
* * *
"Rav, the other rebel pilots from the Flight Force are coming here to join up with us. According to the reports from Elysia, the entire military is in shambles. Everyone is running in circles with no idea where to go or what to do next. They've issued a bounty of one trillion Dayta Notes for your capture. With money like that on the line, we can't trust anyone. I'm sure you're already perfectly aware of that with what happened with Sawyer. On top of that, we have another ship landing on this moon in two hours. You should be dressed and prepared to greet the people on board. They are allies. We are then going to head to Odyssia to meet with this mystery contact of yours."
Rav could barely understand the words coming from the other side of the door over his own vomiting. Hanging halfway off the bed, he emptied his stomach only to open another bottle of whiskey and take yet another drink. The process repeated. The ceiling spun around him until he was not able to hold himself steady and he slipped from the side of the bed and crashed into the pile of dirty clothes and empty beer bottles.
The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10 Page 49
