by Dakota Banks
“Damn, woman! There’s not a spot on my body that isn’t bruised.”
“In a pressurized suit underwater? You had a cushion of air.”
“You might have explained the conditions better. I could have worn a cup.”
There was a dim light at the top of the tank. They were about ten feet down from the top. Across the tank, Maliha could see a pipe dumping in waste.
“There’s the back door to the compound. It’s a plain sewer walk from here.”
“Yeah. A stroll on the beach.”
“If you don’t want to continue, you can go back the way we came in.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m going to swim across. You can float behind me.” She took off before he could voice any complaints. When she reached the other side, she levered herself up into the pipe. Hound refused her offered helping hand and pulled up on his own.
“Think I still need this cutting torch?” Hound said.
“Can’t say for sure. We’d better take it.”
Hound gave her a flashlight from his pack and Maliha took the lead. It was possible they’d encounter maintenance workers from here on. The drysuit wasn’t as flexible as her usual fighting outfit, and the only weapon she had at hand was a knife. Surprise was on their side, though, and was all the advantage Maliha needed.
They made it to the spot where the sewer line connected to the building with no problems. Climbing up a ladder, Maliha pushed aside a manhole cover and emerged into a basement. Once inside, Hound started to take off his suit.
“Wait, let me help with that. I want as little contact with the suit as possible. We should be having a decontamination shower.” She eased him out of the suit. The first thing he did was wipe his face with his undershirt.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while. I’ve been seeing everything through a film of barf.”
He unzipped her suit zipper, which was across the back of her shoulders, with a gloved hand, and she took it from there. They changed into guard uniforms and dragged everything they were leaving behind into a maintenance closet. Maliha’s pack was filled with weapons, things a guard wouldn’t carry, but she didn’t expect the guard deception to last long. They each had tranquilizer guns and a chest pack filled with additional darts. Maliha planned to use the darts as the front-line weapon, to make their attack as non-lethal as possible. Hound had complained a little—he was more of a bullet man—but he went along with the boss, with the proviso that lethal force was discretionary.
“You can always kill if you have to,” she’d said when she explained it. “Just don’t make it the default action.”
“Is this the kinder, gentler Maliha?” Hound said.
“Not exactly. It’s the morally ambivalent Maliha.”
In addition to the dart gun, Maliha was bristling with other weapons: knives, a sword, her whip sword, throwing stars, and a semi-automatic S&W pistol with extra magazines. She fastened a watch on her wrist and checked the time. They were ahead of schedule in a plan that depended on perfect timing.
Hound was well armed with projectile weapons, including an automatic rifle, but he carried a knife for dirty fighting.
“Do I smell bad?” Hound wanted to know.
“No one’s going to smell you coming, if that’s what you mean. We’re going to get a good scrub when we’re done here.”
“Naked?”
She nodded.
“Cool.”
They headed for room 3481. Having nothing else to go on, Maliha assumed it was on the third floor. She was worried about Dr. Bakkum’s statement that if she had to guess a location for the medical suite, it would be underground. Maliha didn’t want to waste time romping all over the building, setting the two of them up with more opportunities for discovery.
They took the stairs to the third level on the cup of the U. Looking out cautiously, she saw a long hallway lined with doors on either side. The lighting was dim, so she let her eyes adjust.
“Stay here,” she whispered.
Hound tapped her on the butt in response.
I’m sure that’s not an official special ops signal.
She slipped into the hallway, walking silently, staying close to one wall. The first door she encountered was numbered 6870.
What? We’re on the sixth floor? Or is the numbering system not based on the floor?
She examined the next door and one across the hall, numbers 6880 and 6881.
At least it’s not random.
She returned to the staircase and explained the problem to Hound.
“Simple,” he said. “We’re on the sixth floor, even though it’s the first floor above ground. This is a ten-story building, with five floors above ground and five below. Dr. Bakkum was right, she just didn’t know the extent of the underground development. We need to be three floors down.”
“Three floors down is where we came from, and it looked like the basement. We can check, but I don’t think we’re going to find the medical suite right next to the boiler room. There must be hidden floors underground that have no connection to the stairs we came up.” She looked at her watch. “We’re good on time now, but won’t be if we make bad choices.”
“Then I suggest we find ourselves a guide pronto,” Hound said.
“Okay. Wait—”
“I’ll be right behind you.”
They went out into the hall.
“Something odd here,” Hound said. “No cameras, at least none I can spot.”
“I guess these people like their activities private.”
Still, it was eerie. No security guard patrolling, a low light level, and now no cameras.
Maybe I misjudged the security inside this building based on what’s outside.
“Elevator,” Hound said. She’d almost walked past it, wondering about the lack of bright lights and big guns. He pressed the DOWN button and they waited on either side of the door. When it opened, the car was empty. Inside, the button for the third floor was missing.
“What the fuck! This place is pissing me off,” Hound said.
Maliha pointed out a slot that was the right size for an ID card. “I think all we need is the magic key.”
“How are we going to get one when there aren’t any warm bodies in here?”
That’s when the robot came around the corner of the hall.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Ever killed a robot before?” Hound said.
“No. Maybe we don’t need to.”
The robot, about five feet tall and shaped like a hot-water heater, approached them on spidery legs.
First thought: get the hell out of here.
The robot had a face of sorts, probably to make it less threatening to the scientists who traveled these halls. Maliha had no doubt that the “arms” on either side were folded-up weapons. It stopped about six feet in front of them. The letters “Bruce” were painted across the front of it.
“Do you think that’s its name?” Hound said.
“Your guess is as good as mine. If there are multiple robots, it makes sense that they’d have names.”
“Christ, those legs creep me out. I wonder how fast it can move.”
“Identification, please,” Bruce said. His voice was not mechanical sounding at all, but low, male, and the kind of voice Maliha would like to hear on the other end of the phone.
“We’re lost,” Maliha said. “Take us to the third floor, Bruce.”
“Identification, please.”
“We left our identification on the third floor. Take us there now.”
“Step forward for alternate identification.” A panel opened on the top of the robot and an arm extended. On the end was a cup that would fit over one eye.
“Retinal scanner. Now what?” Hound said.
Maliha waved at him to be quiet. “I’m reporting you for inappropriate human interaction, Bruce. I order you to report to your maintenance station for diagnostics immediately.”
Open the pod bay doors, Hal.
&
nbsp; Bruce hesitated, considering the order. “Human interaction is consistent with procedures. Identify yourselves or I will take you into custody and summon security forces.”
Maliha and Hound looked at each other. Hound gave a “why not?” shrug.
“We refuse to identify ourselves. Take us into custody,” Maliha said.
A panel slid open below Bruce’s mouth and Taser probes shot out, aimed at each of them. Maliha dodged hers but Hound was hit in the chest. He yelled and went down. The robot sensed that Maliha was still up and moving and one of its weapons unfolded and fired. The response had taken less than a second.
Yikes!
Maliha switched to Ageless speed and rammed into Bruce, attempting to put him off balance and send him over backward. Bruce was having none of that. A slit opened in his back, shooting out more spidery legs that caught him and levered him back into an upright position.
Hah! Try that again.
Maliha rammed into Bruce a second time, and when the stabilization legs came out, she lopped them off with her sword. Then she stabbed Bruce right in the middle of his smiling face.
Instead of sparking and smoking, Bruce was unaffected. A metal tentacle whipped out, wrapped around her legs, and brought her down to the floor right in front of the second arm. Now deployed, the arm looked like a flamethrower.
Maliha heard noises at the end of the hall. The summoned guards were on their way, and she was about to become flame broiled. She twisted away from the weapon moments before a stream of fire erupted from the nozzle. Though aimed at her, the flames barely missed Hound, who was beginning to get to his feet.
“Stay down!” she shouted. Hound, no stranger to the smell or effects of napalm, threw himself flat, then began to inch forward toward the robot. “Don’t move!”
Slicing with her sword through the tentacle holding her, Maliha was free. She leaped onto Bruce’s back and tried to gain control of him, but found that he weighed much more than she’d thought and his center of gravity was low. She plunged her sword through the metal skin low on his back and yanked it sideways, nearly bisecting him. Then she switched to a vertical cut and pulled upward with all of her strength, slicing a two-foot-long path through his innards.
That’s got to hit something important.
The flamethrower stopped spewing napalm and Bruce ceased his struggles under her grip. It reminded her of the old Japanese ritual seppuku, belly cutting, to commit suicide with honor. When a person showed bravery during the cutting, he would be mercifully dispatched by decapitation. If not, he died in slow anguish, holding his guts in his hands. She swung her sword a final time to complete the seppuku, slicing off Bruce’s designated head portion, but leaving it hanging by a thin flap of metal. Leaving the head barely attached was the accomplishment of someone skilled with the sword, to keep the severed head from flying at the ritual’s witnesses.
Napalm not only burns at more than 800 degrees, but it also consumes oxygen at a fast rate and produces carbon monoxide because of incomplete burning. The carbon monoxide level can be very high close to the source, especially in an enclosed area. Maliha and Hound struggled to breathe. If they became unconscious, they’d die, regardless of Maliha’s victory over Bruce.
“Behind you!” Hound said. He was bent over almost double, choking, but managed to draw his tranq gun and fire down the hall.
Maliha turned and saw two guards go down, darts protruding from their chests. She drew and fired at the other two, and they joined their fellows on the floor. Maliha grabbed Hound’s arm and tugged him down the hall, where the air hadn’t been affected. After a short recovery, she ran back and collected all four ID cards from the unconscious guards.
“What are the chances no one else knows about us?” Hound said.
“Zero. Bruce blabbed and there must be more where these men came from. Let’s hope one of these does the trick,” she said, holding up the ID cards.
Back in the elevator, she tried inserting each guard’s ID card. She went through three of them with no effect, but the last one lit up a small screen with the number three on it. She pressed it and the elevator car started moving. Maliha checked the time. It was a good thing they’d made fast progress earlier, because now they were behind by four minutes.
“We have to make up four minutes somehow,” she said.
Hound nodded. “If we don’t run into Bruce Two, we should be able to handle that.”
“I killed my first robot.”
“Don’t get cocky. You never asked if I was okay from the Taser, you know.”
“Are you?”
“Mostly. Every damned muscle hurts. That juice was set way too high.”
The elevator came to a stop. Maliha and Hound took up positions on opposite sides of the door. When the door slid open, a robot named Wayne stood there on his spidery legs, resolutely blocking them.
“Identification . . .”
Hound moved forward and blasted the robot with automatic gunfire, raking the bullets up and down and across Wayne’s cylindrical body. “Take that, you motherfucker!”
Wayne sparked, smoked, and died on the spot.
“I thought there might be one on each floor,” Hound said. “Just a little revenge for that Taser. And the napalm. Bad memories.”
The hallway looked just like the one on the sixth floor. Dim lighting, twin rows of doors. The nearest one was number 3463.
“We’re close. Let’s go.” Maliha ran down the hallway. Hound could catch up while she opened the door.
She stopped in front of the door marked 3481 and blew away the lock with her S&W. There was no time to be subtle. Inside, she faced a startled nurse who’d come running at the sound—not the smartest move. Maliha tranquilized her. It was a relief to Maliha to see just a nurse. She’d been afraid she was going to encounter Elizabeth in this room.
Why isn’t she here? This rescue must be a true surprise. If she’d suspected anything, she’d be here in person.
Moving further into the suite, she came upon Yanmeng.
The sight of him almost felled her. He was lying propped up in bed, connected to an IV, electrodes, and other equipment. He was breathing on his own, although there was a mechanical ventilator in the room. His eyes were closed and his face looked composed, as if he’d just settled down for a long winter’s nap.
The rest of him was a different story. The two stumps bled through their dressings, a startling red contrast to the white sheets and white drawstring pants he wore. She wanted to comfort those wounds, but there was a difficult escape yet to go, one for which she was prepared to keep Yanmeng unconscious. If he became alert, pain would intrude on that peaceful face.
Hound came around the doorway into the room. She could see the sympathy in his face rapidly replaced by considerations of the escape. They had to make up time.
“Are you sure we can move him?” Hound said.
“Fine time to ask that.”
“Then let’s get those fucking tubes out of him.”
“Hold on.” Maliha injected a syringe from her pack into the connection hub of the IV tube. After a few seconds, she disconnected the tube from the bag and taped the tube to Yanmeng’s arm.
“That’s to keep him under until we get him to a doctor. We can’t keep jerking his brain around not knowing what the hell we’re doing. Until then he’s dead weight.”
Hound nodded. His primary purpose on the mission was about to begin. The medic was going to carry another wounded man to safety. He pulled Yanmeng up into a seated position, then bent forward and picked him up in a fireman’s carry. Hound’s deformed body, with one shoulder lower than the other, made the position look precarious for Yanmeng.
“You okay with this?”
“Don’t I look okay?” Hound said.
Maliha had nowhere to go from there. She couldn’t carry Yanmeng and fight off security at the same time. She checked her watch. “On time.”
She left the medical suite first and checked the hallway. Wayne was dead in front of t
he elevator and there was no sign of anyone else. The hall lighting was even dimmer, though, and she suspected a trap.
“Stay as close to the wall as you can. Move fast,” she said. “We’re expecting company in the hall or the elevator. Any slowdowns now and we’ll miss the big bang.”
“Gotcha.”
She went out, gun drawn, Hound’s automatic rifle slung over her shoulder. Hound moved rapidly toward the elevator, and she followed close behind him, running backward, watching their backs. It was up to Hound to spot anything coming at them from the front. About halfway to the elevator, one of the doors lining the hallway sprang open. From a darkened room, six guards ran out firing. They were so close to Maliha they couldn’t miss. She took a bullet in the shoulder and another in her side.
“Go!” she yelled at Hound. He didn’t need any encouragement.
Maliha pulled on the grip of her whip sword and snapped it into play as soon as it unwound from her waist. A twist of her wrist expertly separated the blades in midair and they bit into flesh, sawing two guards in half. With her other hand, she used her pistol to drop another two guards with shots to the head. Whirling the whip sword around dangerously close to her body, she severed a man’s head. The last guard didn’t like what he was seeing and took off running down the hall. She planted a tranq dart in his back and he toppled forward. Maliha ran after Hound, who was at the elevator, punching the UP button frantically.
That little bloodbath might catch Anu’s attention. I hope he’s taking a nap. I don’t need my scale slowing me down now.
“Stairs?” he said when she arrived, dragging the bloody whip sword behind her.
“I don’t know a way off this floor without using the elevator. Stand away from the door.”
Too bad Amaro couldn’t have gotten us plans for this building. It would have saved some time and lives.
Hound stepped away, planted his back against the wall, and swiveled his head to check both ways in the hall. “Clear. You’re wounded.”
