That’s it, I realised suddenly. That’s what she meant. She saw me get inside the Grid spire down south, and now believed that I was some kind of genius who was capable of manipulating the Grid.
But that wasn’t true. My knowledge of using the Grid was limited to what I’d learned back there in M-Corp a couple of weeks ago. It really only amounted to some very specialised knowledge, just a few basic commands. It wasn’t my understanding of the Grid that had circumvented the security back at the spire, but rather the subroutine that had been stored on the data shard.
The data shard.
I dug my fingers desperately in my pocket, feeling through the dust and grit that had accumulated there, and then they fell upon the slender form of the data shard. It felt cool and smooth against my fingertips. Soldiers had patted me down maybe a dozen times since I’d arrived in the city, yet they’d been searching for weapons – the shard was too small and slim to be detected by such a search. It had lain there, forgotten and unnoticed by everyone until now.
I drew it out surreptitiously. Over my shoulder I could see Weekes standing there digging something out of his fingernails, obviously unaware of what was going on.
“Feeling sick all of a sudden?” I heard Vance say. I craned my neck and looked at him, realising that I had been hunched over as I shielded the flip from the rest of the room.
“Uh, a little,” I said. Vance continued to stare at the floor, but I sensed he knew that something was happening. I returned my attention to the flip and shifted my weight so that my back was directly pointed toward Weekes, hoping I would block his view even if he should shift his position.
Searching the edge of the flip, I located the tiny aperture on its edge which allowed the connection of external devices. I fidgeted with the data shard, trying to find the correct orientation, and then it abruptly slid home with a click.
I winced, my eyes darting back to Weekes, but he only gave me a cursory glance before returning his attention to his fingernails again.
On the flip, another message appeared: External input detected.
Within moments the data from the shard had been read and the subroutine executable made available.
Now if only I knew what to do with it.
Cabre had told me on the roof of The Midway that he had begun integrating as many devices back onto the Grid as possible so that they could be centrally managed. He’d also said that their access was encrypted, but I hoped that the subroutine would overcome that security.
But the question remained: how was this access to the Grid going to get me out of my incarceration? The lock on the cell was mechanical. I had as much chance of unlocking it as I did of magically opening a portal in the wall to allow my escape.
After that, I still had all of the other doors and the guards to contend with.
So what else could I do?
I opened the Grid browser and scanned for nearby devices, but to my dismay I was greeted with a list of hundreds of devices with meaningless names, just strings of numbers like a90b.21ff and 0081.2c1a. Gunrix probably had every device under his control catalogued, but for an outsider there was no clue as to the purpose of each device.
I selected a device at random, and when prompted for the access credentials I activated the subroutine on the shard. The login was populated by a meaningless string of characters and failed, but then when the access was reinitiated the login prompt was bypassed altogether and I found myself at the interface of the device.
Well, I can bypass the security at least, I thought.
Now that I was inside the controls for the device, I still had no idea what it was. There were parameters for blade rotation and voltage and so I assumed it must have been some sort of pump or fan.
I couldn’t see how doing anything to this device would help me escape the lock-up, but since I had no plan whatsoever I decided to just shut the device down. Maybe if I turned enough devices off, I would eventually cause enough confusion to make Weekes leave the room to investigate. Once that happened there might be a chance of forcing my way out somehow.
I activated the shutdown procedure on the device and then returned to the Grid browser. I chose the next device in line and shut it down as well. I stopped and listened.
There was no change to the environment in the lock-up, no shouts of alarm from outside. For all I knew, the devices I was hacking were located on the other side of the city. I could spend hours going through these devices with no result.
Then I realised there was a much simpler way of finding what I wanted. Inside the browser was a filter that allowed devices to be sorted by proximity. I didn’t need to resolve the name of each device – I just needed to know which were closest.
With the proximity filter applied, I went ahead and shut down the first device in the list. Immediately there was a loud and abrasive intonation that reverberated about the room, causing Weekes to jerk away from the wall and drop his rifle. The electronic lock on the door disengaged and the entrance swung open of its own accord.
Weekes gathered up his rifle shakily and began to edge toward the door.
“Captain?” he said uncertainly. “You’re supposed to knock.”
He swung his rifle forward as he reached the door, but there was no one there. At the other end of the corridor I heard the second security door deactivate and then Captain Ocano’s voice boomed down at us.
“Weekes? What the hell are you doing?”
“It… it wasn’t me, Captain,” Weekes stammered. “Damn thing did it by itself.”
“Bullshit,” Ocano said. “Never seen it do that, not even once.”
He continued to remonstrate his subordinate but I had already turned back to the flip, searching for the next device in line. I bypassed the security and once again set the device to deactivate, and as my finger brushed the button the lights in the building clicked off. We were plunged into darkness, and suddenly the glowing display of the flip was like a beacon, casting a splash of white light across my cell. I clutched it to my chest to hide it, almost falling off the bench in my haste, and then the dim red illumination of the emergency lights filled the room.
“Cap?” came Weekes’ tremulous voice. “What’s going on? Is it the Marauders again?”
“How the hell should I know?” Ocano replied. “More likely we just lost power. Wait there and I’ll–”
Just then an explosion sounded from the front of the building, and the whole place shook so hard that the cell bars themselves vibrated like harp strings. I was bucked from the bench and landed on the floor, the flip tumbling out of my grasp and sliding along the concrete toward the next cell. As I stumbled over to retrieve it I saw Vance getting calmly to his feet, straightening his shirt as if abruptly concerned about his appearance.
He finally turned to look at me, his dark eyes sparkling in the dim ruddy glow of the emergency lights.
“Here it comes,” he said.
All hell broke loose.
Another explosion rocked the building, and then the chatter of gunfire out in the street reverberated down the hallway. Ocano screamed something at Weekes, who reached for the door and struggled to pull it shut. He cast a panicked eye at both Vance at me, as if worried that we had somehow slipped through the bars of our cells and might be coming at him from behind. He dropped his rifle again as he returned his attention to the door, fighting against the mechanism that was attempting to keep it open.
“Dropped your toy,” Vance muttered to me, slipping his foot through the bars and nudging the flip back in my direction.
“Is it them?” I said breathlessly, gripping the flip and getting to my feet. “The insurgents?”
“Who else?”
I wondered for a brief moment if my toying with the devices on the flip had somehow precipitated the insurgent attack. Were they were working with Malyn, anticipating that I would start bringing devices down across the city? That was unlikely, I decided. There was no evidence that Malyn was involved with the insurgents at all. More likely thi
s was just a coincidence, and they had probably planned the timing independently of Malyn’s arrival.
Whatever the case, the intruders were getting closer. There was gunfire inside the building now, the sound roaring down the corridor, accompanied by flashes of brilliance as the rounds discharged in the dim light.
“Damn Marauders,” Weekes muttered, disbelieving, looking around as if searching for a way to escape. “We killed them. We killed them all.”
Vance gave me a wry grin, enjoying the fact that Weekes had failed to come to grips with what was happening.
“Let us out, Weekes,” Vance suggested amiably. “We can help you fight those bastards.”
Weekes shook his head, clutching his rifle to his chest fervently. “No way, Vance. You can rot in there for all I care. I’m getting out of here.”
“Where you gonna go, little man?” Vance teased, walking casually toward the front of his cell and pressing his face between the bars. “There’s nowhere to run.”
“Shut up!” Weekes spat.
“You’re a prisoner in here now, too,” Vance went on calmly. “Welcome to death row.”
“Shut the hell up, man!” Weekes screeched, lowering his rifle toward Vance and stepping forward threateningly. “Shut up or–”
There was a hail of gunfire in the room and I hit the deck, cradling my head in my hands and rolling over toward the wall. When it stopped I opened my eyes to see Vance still standing at the edge of his cell, but Weekes was splayed out across the floor, motionless.
Figures hurried into the room from the hallway, rifles raised as they surveyed the area.
“It’s clear,” Vance informed them.
“Vance,” the first one said, moving sleekly across the floor. “Still in one piece?”
“Of course.”
“Stand back, please.” The insurgent pressed something against the lock on Vance’s cell, and tiny red and yellow sparks lit up the room as something burned its way through the metal. An acrid stench permeated the place, and then the metal sloughed and fell apart, dripping down onto the floor like hot wax. The insurgent kicked the cell door dramatically and it clanged open.
“Weekes had the key, y’know,” Vance said coolly as he stepped unhurriedly out of the cell. “You might consider that option next time.” He collected the dead soldier’s rifle, untangling it gently from his lifeless arm, and headed toward the door.
“Vance!” I called. They all turned to look at me. “Little help?”
Vance signalled for the others to proceed and then stooped at Weekes body once again. He extracted the keyring from the soldier’s belt and slid it across the floor to me.
“Catch up as fast as you can,” Vance said as I reached out to collect the keys, and when I looked up he had already gone.
I slid my hands through the cell bars and fiddled with the keys against the lock, scraping and sliding them against the metal as I attempted to insert them into place. After an agonising and frustrating ten seconds I finally slid the correct key into the lock, twisting with such desperation that I feared I would inadvertently snap the key in two. Then the door swung outward and I was across the room in pursuit of the fleeing insurgents.
As I loped down the hallway I could hear more gunfire, explosions, and clanks yelling and screaming in pain. This fight seemed every bit as ferocious as the battle with the Marauders had been days before. Whether this was really just a rescue mission to deliver Vance from imprisonment or a full-scale assault by the insurgents with nothing held back, I couldn’t be sure. Maybe they had come to the conclusion that there was no point waiting for Ascension to rebuild, and realised that if they wanted to overthrow them they were never going to get a better opportunity than now.
In the end, it didn’t matter. I didn’t care who won or lost. I just needed to get out of this building, out of this city, and as far away as possible.
At the end of the corridor there was a pile of rubble where the anteroom had been a few minutes before. The insurgents had already been through here and evidently moved on. Vance was nowhere to be seen. I picked my way across the rubble and then suddenly something lurched out of the ruined timber and brick and knocked me sideways and off my feet.
Captain Ocano stood above me, his clothing charred and his body tattered and gouged. As he staggered nearer I could see the alloy of several ribs showing through on his left side. His arm had been blown apart as well, and his hand and forearm dangled uselessly from a few strands of smouldering wire protruding from his elbow.
“It’s you, fresh meat?” he said, blinking and obviously dazed. “Thought you were one of those damn insurgents.”
“Captain Ocano, I–”
“Where you goin’, son?” he said, scowling at me as if I were an errant child.
“Captain, this place is falling apart. We need to get out of here.”
“No. I’m not leaving my station.”
“Then you’re going to be buried here.” I glanced down the corridor and saw fire licking at the ceiling, growing brighter by the second, and black smoke curled toward us. Vance and the others were gone, and time was running out.
“So be it,” Ocano said. I began to get up but he swung his handgun up and pointed it at me, now lucid and steady as a rock. “Who are you? Who are you, really?”
“Captain, we need to go.”
“That girl never once showed her feelings out there,” Ocano went on, and it took me a moment to realise he was referring to Malyn. “Had skin as thick as a rhino. I don’t recall her smiling or showing fear even once. Never even saw her hate something, not in all the time she was under my command. Wondered if she was even capable of emotion at times. But when she looked at you…”
His eyes narrowed and he clutched at his ribs, his face contorted by pain, as if he were only just now feeling the effects of his wounds. He shrunk back slightly, but as I got to my feet he levelled the handgun at me again.
“You haven’t answered my question,” he said.
“Look, Captain, I’m just a clank who’s trying to mind his own business. I’m leaving Ascension City if I can. You won’t ever see me again.”
Ocano wavered again as he was racked by pain. “Didn’t I tell you…? We’re all prisoners…”
“Captain please–”
“But I guess we weren’t all… meant to live in a cage after all, huh?” he said haltingly, his body shuddering with the effort of standing upright. His eyes bored into me. “Well, go on, then… fly.”
He raised the gun away from me and slumped back against the broken wall. The sidearm clattered to the floor and he clutched at his chest with his good hand. He grimaced and nodded at me through the agony.
“Get out now… before I change my mind,” he said through gritted teeth.
I didn’t hesitate. Charging down the hallway, I found myself confronted on all sides by walls of flame as the police station went up in smoke. The ceiling had been ripped apart and I could see The Midway outside reaching up into the dark sky, spotlights sweeping back and forth as soldiers appeared at the windows of the upper stories and fired down on the street below. Part of the structure was on fire, and as I watched there was another explosion that went off on the second floor, carving another hole in the building’s exterior.
Up ahead, the entrance to the police station was awash with the movement of frantic shapes as combatants moved about in the street. I wasn’t sure who I’d meet if I made it out there – Ascension or the insurgents – and maybe it didn’t matter. I was part of neither side, and for all I knew they might both regard me as a threat. Either way, I didn’t envisage lasting long out in the open.
As I ran forward I noticed a dark patch beyond one of the old offices, what looked to be a piece of crumbing wall that the fire hadn’t reached. Acting on instinct more than anything, I diverted my course and sped through the office, finding a gap in the structure and clambering out across a pile of rubble. In moments I came out on a backstreet that led past the rear of the police station, the
fire behind me.
I ran through the streets, trying to put as much distance between myself and The Midway as I possibly could. There were Humvees and Ascension soldiers on foot heading toward the battle, but they made a racket, allowing me enough time to find hiding places until they had passed. There was one occasion where I stumbled across other frightened clanks hiding in the shadows, a female with a young male Ward. The child looked on the verge of tears and the mother had clamped a hand across his mouth to prevent any inadvertent cries. The three of us sat there staring at each other in the dark until the soldiers had passed, and then I got to my feet and left without so much as a word passing between us.
I must have been running for almost an hour and was getting close to the edge of the city when I heard a vehicle coming up behind me, heading away from The Midway instead of toward it. Its headlights blazed in the gloom and made shadows dance in the street all around me. Taking evasive action, I hunkered down behind a stairwell and flattened myself against the wall as it approached. Unnervingly, it began to slow down as it neared, the throaty warble of its engine echoing across the street like a ferocious predator.
I glanced around, but there was nowhere to go except back out into the street. If they cornered me I would have to fight.
Just keep moving, you fucks.
The vehicle slowed to a crawl, its headlights reflecting all around me, making my hiding place uncomfortably bright. It stopped completely and the engine idled throatily, but there was no sound of anyone disembarking, and I could only guess as to their intent. After a few moments the engines revved and it began to roll forward again, down along the street, and I let out a sigh of relief.
There was a loud whining sound as the vehicle braked hard, then I heard it reverse and come creeping back toward me.
I felt around me for something I could use as a weapon, my hands finding only pebbles and dust. I prepared for the worst.
The vehicle stopped right outside my hiding place again.
“Cleanskin?”
I froze, recognising the voice but not quite believing I was hearing it. I stood up and walked out into the light, where a sleek quad-cycle bearing the markings of the Marauders sat idling. The clank at the controls looked about the street trying to locate me, and upon sighting me, smiled broadly.
The Fires of Yesterday (The Silent Earth, Book 3) Page 21
