by Alex Kings
Then Eulen could make up some excuse to Ivis, and get out of here.
He rounded the corner to see Hanson facing off with a guard down the hallway. A small patch of the floor behind Hanson was covered in cracks, and still glowing red hot. Eulen quickly surmised that the guard had fired first, and Hanson had managed to dodge.
Eulen floated up silently, trying to stay behind Hanson.
Hanson raised his weapon to the guard. “I don't want to have to shoot you,” he said.
The guard's top segment turned. On it, a black spot – a laser aperture. Hanson leapt to the side before it could get a bead on him. There was another crack. Everything seemed to flash. A moment later a patch of the wall less than a foot away from Eulen was glowing bright red.
Hanson raised his own laser and fired. The very top of the guard's upper segment came away. Water spilled out, carrying dozens of tiny fish. The fish writhed and flopped on the floor, drowning. The suit's lights flickered out.
Eulen glided up behind Hanson, aiming his laser. A shot from the front would be more realistic, but probably not worth the effort.
He powered up his laser, and –
There was a thump against one of the cell doors, followed by a muffled shout. The suddenness of it distracted Eulen, and caught Hanson's attention.
It was the Petaur, Yilva. When she saw Hanson was looking at her, she grinned, ears perked up. Her tail flicked back and forth excitedly.
Eulen ran through the possibilities quickly. He could shoot Hanson now, but Yilva would see. She would recognise Ivis and tell him what had happened. And then Ivis might try and kill Eulen.
The door to the cell, though transparent, would block most of the energy of a laser beam. He couldn't do anything while she was in there.
Eulen felt a minor twang of frustration. But he powered down his laser. There'd be another opportunity. He'd just have to wait. That was all.
Chapter 36: Lockdown
Hanson saw Eulen in the corridor. For a fraction of a second, he wondered why his ally hadn't fired on the guard – then he dismissed the idea. Eulen was the Albascene equivalent of a desk jockey. It was quite likely that he'd never been in a fight in his life. Besides, there was no time to worry about that now.
“Ivis!” he called. Then he turned back to Yilva. “How can we get you out?”
“Do you have the hacking program I gave you?” said Yilva.
“Yeah, uh, I hate to be the one to tell you, but it doesn't work,” said Hanson.
Yilva's ears went flat against her head. She put her hands on her hips, looking slightly irritated. “Are you sure you are using it properly?” Then a second later she perked up, “Ivis! Hi!”
“Maybe we should do this some other time,” said Hanson.
“Oh … yeah. The guard should have a key.”
Ivis had come up by this time. He swiftly moved towards the guard's suit, and after a moment pulled out a small slip of sapphiroid, like a contracted tablet. He returned, and pressed it against the door.
The door slid aside.
Yilva bounded out of the cell and hugged Ivis. Then she moved on to Hanson. She stopped at Eulen and looked him up and down. “Do I know you?” She shrugged. “Doesn't matter. Thank you!” And she hugged Eulen too.
Ivis, when he was free, turned to the guard's suit. “Good shot,” he mused. “Academy training?”
Hanson nodded.
For an Albascene, a headshot was the best way to disable without killing. A hole at the top meant most of the water would stay in the suit, and most of the fish would survive. The guard would probably survive.
“Okay,” said Hanson. “Time for an escape plan.”
“You don't have one?” said Yilva.
“Of course I do. I just need to iron out a few wrinkles, that's all.”
“What is it?”
“We get past the guards on this end,” began Ivis, “convince the guards on the other end to send the transport to us, get you and Hanson aboard without them noticing, and go back into the canyon.”
“And how are you going to do all that without the guards noticing or stopping you?” asked Yilva.
“Those are the wrinkles,” said Hanson. He smiled. “Really, though, I'm relying on your familiarity with the system here. Is there anything you can do to help us?”
Yilva frowned. “Maybe if we can get on the transport, I can hack into it …”
“The guards on the other end don't have a visual feed of this area,” said Ivis.
Hanson considered this. “So we disable the guards on this end.” He held up the stun-prod. “Then we send a message that you two –” he pointed at Ivis and Eulen “– have put me in my cell and need to return. Everything seems normal. So they send the transport. We get in it with you. Then you, Yilva, get into the system. Do you think you're up to it?”
I'm not sure,” said Yilva, pouting. “Not if I can't even write a proper hacking program for you to use.”
Hanson gave her a look.
“Alright,” she said. “Yes, I think I can do it before they pump in some neurotoxin, or whatever.”
“ … Neurotoxin?” said Hanson
Yilva waved the word aside. “A detail,” she said excitedly. “But first,” she said. “There's something I need to do.” She took the plastic clip of a key from Ivis and held it up.
Before she could get any further, the lights dimmed and reddened. An deep voice echoed through the corridor, speaking in the Albascene language.
Yilva's ears fell flat against her head as she listened. “Oh, crumbs,” she murmured.
“They're announcing a lockdown,” translated Ivis. “We've been discovered.”
Chapter 37: Hello Customer
For over an hour, it was the same repetitive motion in the darkness. Bit by bit, Moore climbed up the flat plates of the ladder. The only light came from her and Agatha's helmets. Above and below, the shaft extended until the darkness consumed it.
At least the lift hadn't moved. And at least they were all in good enough shape that they weren't yet tiring.
After a while, Agatha started singing an obscene song about a Varanid meeting a Glaber “in a bar the far side of Cygnus.”
There were many things Agatha was good at, Moore reflected, but singing in tune wasn't one of them. She considered asking her to stop, but soon she found herself laughing at the lyrics. After that, she started joining in on the chorus.
Something caught her eye in the darkness above. Moore looked straight up at it, following the white spot of her lamp.
The bottom of the lift. This was it.
As she'd guessed, there was just enough space to squeeze past it. But that wouldn't give them access to the doors.
Moore studied the bottom of the lift for a little while longer. There! Barely visible, a seam sat beside the ladder. A safety hatch.
There were no handles, or any other sort of opening mechanism. Quite likely, it could only be opened from inside the lift itself. But that wasn't a problem.
“Srak?” she called. “Would you do the honours?”
“By all means,” said Srak. Bracing himself against the walls of the shaft, he scrambled up past Moore, drew his fist back, and punched the hatch.
The entire lift car moved up a few inches, its magnetic connectors giving off a humming whine as they tried to hold it steady. The hatch popped out of the lift's floor.
“Good work,” Moore said. She grabbed hold of the rim of the new hole, and pulled herself up into the lift car. The doors were already open, looking out onto the docks. The hatch itself had flown out of the doors, and now lay like a giant coin a few metres away.
Agatha followed her, then Srak, who managed to squeeze through the hole with some difficulty. Moore took out her carbine. “Let's move.”
An Albascene glided out to greet them.
Except – it wasn't an Albascene. It was just a robot. It had a similar design to an Albascene suit – three icosahedrons stacked on top of each other – but it rolled on a set
of wheels instead of using effector fields, it was painted in garish corporate colours, and it had a screen on top, now displaying a smiley cartoon face.
“Hello Customer!” it said with an artificially bright, cheery voice. “Welcome to your SuperDocks(trademark) dock! Would you like to review your accumulated fees and ship status?”
“Uh,” began Moore.
“Yeah, go on!” said Agatha.
“You ship is in SuperBerth Number Two. Your current fee structure is Class Six, Medium-Term, plus standard refuelling, minor repair work. You bill so far is 113 credits, payable upon departure. Your projected cost for the next Kalbraican day is …”
The robot continued to prattle on. Moore gave Agatha a look. “Did you really need to do that?”
“Yes,” said Agatha. “Anyway, you heard the bot. Berth Number Two.”
Shaking her head, Moore led them over to the second berth.
That was definitely it: Arka's ship. It sat open to the vacuum on the other side of a sapphiroid wall, resting on a web of effector fields. A docking tube extended to a point on its belly.
Carbine ready, Moore looked around. No-one save for her team and the robot. “Check the terminals,” she told Agatha. The entrance to the docking tube was open. She traipsed up it, her boots making dull-sounding echoes. The airlock was closed.
She paused, considering her next move.
Srak came up beside it, raised a giant fist, and pounded on the airlock. “Arka, are you in there? It's time for a rematch!”
Moore grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?” she hissed.
“Thought it might speed things up a little,” said Srak.
“Last time you had a fight with this Varanid, he beat the crap out of you!” said Moore. “And Agatha. And the Captain!”
“Last time, I didn't have this.” Srak took out his shotgun-sized pistol and tapped its barrel.
Moore sighed, and shook her head. Then she looked back at Srak. “Could you punch through this?”
“I could give it a try,” said Srak. “It's probably reinforced.”
“Do it anyway.”
Srak shrugged, drew back his fist, and slammed it against the airlock.
There was an ear-splitting clang. The airlock didn't budge.
“For the sake of other customers, please avoid making excessive noise,” said the robot. While Moore had been occupied, it had managed to sidle up to the docking tube.
Srak grimaced and rubbed his knuckles. “Yeah. Reinforced.”
“Agatha?” called Moore.
“There's nothing useful here,” Agatha said.
Moore walked with Srak back out of the docking tube and looked around the empty space. Far to the side of Arka's ship lay another berth, with all the complicated machinery of effector fields taken out and strewn across the ground. The pale white lights, the asinine robot, the silent ship, all offered nothing.
The lift doors slammed shut with a clunk, followed by a momentary electrical whine as the lift car descended.
“Someone's called it,” said Moore. The only people who could do that would be from Arka's ship. Recalling the hole they'd left in the floor, she added, “They'll be expecting us.”
She'd been evaluating the layout of the docks since she first set foot in them. Three berths – wide open space protected with sapphiroid walls. Adequate over. The lift doors on the far end, between Berths 1 and 2. A few columns that also offered protection.
“Agatha, stay here, behind the walls of Berth 2. Srak, take point behind that column.” Moore herself ran over to Berth 1. Anyone coming from the lift would be faced on three sides.
On his way, Srak took a detour to grab the detached hatch from the bottom of the lift, then carried it with him behind the column.
By the time they were all in position, the lift was already ascending.
Moore readied her carbine.
The lift doors opened.
Chapter 38: Don't Think About How Silly This Looks
Hanson lifted his laser. Keeping an eye on the door at the end of the corridor, he said, “I'm guessing a lockdown means they won't send the prisoner transport.”
“No,” said Ivis. “They will not.”
“So we need to cross five hundred metres of frozen, airless ground without help,” said Hanson. He looked at Ivis and Eulen. “Albascene suits are vacuum-resistant, aren't they?.”
“For short periods.”
“You could leave now.”
“No,” said Ivis. “I will not abandon you now.”
“Neither will I,” Eulen said softly.
“I appreciate that,” said Hanson. He frowned at the door. No-one had come to attack them yet. The guards were probably waiting for reinforcements.
Something occurred to him.
“Yilva,” he said. “When you came here, you saw that membrane out front?”
“Yes. It is part of a tent. They put it up as cheap way of holding more prisoners when they are over capacity.”
“So it's airtight?”
Yilva froze. Then she turned to Hanson and grinned. “Yes. Yes, it is!”
“Right. We need to work quickly. First, we need to disable the guards out front.”
“No,” said Yilva. “First we do this. The lockdown here has some obvious flaws.” She twirled the key between her fingers in some impossibly fast motions, then slammed it up against the door of the cell opposite. The door slid open, and the Petaur inside stood up, looking surprised.
“Go!” she told Hanson. “Do your thing. I am getting everyone out of here!”
“Yilva …” began Ivis. “Is that wise?”
She started at him. “Do you think I am the only one in here unfairly? Go!” She bounded down the corridor, tapping the key against every door.
Hanson tapped Ivis on the shoulder (or, more accurately, the upper part of his middle section). “You heard her,” he said. “Let's go.”
Hanson led Ivis and Eulen down the corridor. At the end, a single sliding door gave access to the room they'd started at. Hanson readied his laser, nodded at his companions, and opened the door.
The room was empty.
Directly ahead was the door that would have led to the prisoner transport. The smaller airlock – the one that would lead to the overcrowding tent – was to his right. And along the wall to his left was the door back to the cells.
Laser still raised, Hanson entered to room. His shoes padded softly against the chill metal floor. After checking, he summoned Ivis and Eulen through with a gesture.
“Where are they?” he said.
His eyes came to rest on the other doors that led to the cells. If the guards had gone through that, they'd run into Yilva coming the other way.
And Yilva was unarmed.
“Quickly,” he said, moving towards the door. “This way!”
He opened it.
There was a clang behind him. The airlock!
Knowing he had no time to check, he flung himself to the side. A fraction of a second later, there were two flashes and loud cracks in succession. They left two glowing circles on the wall.
Hanson swung around, laser raised.
The two guards were standing at the airlock.
Ivis was nearest – he hadn't followed Hanson across the room. He glided up to one of the guards, and caught it with a stun-prod. The guard's suit fell to the floor with a bang.
The second guard moved out between them. Its middle section swivelled. With only a dark laser aperture instead of a proper gun barrel, it was hard to see where it was aiming.
Hanson started to run too. So long as he kept in motion, he'd be harder to hit. On the same principle, Ivis and Eulen began to move.
An old memory from combat training: Albascene suits were limited in their motions. They couldn't duck, or crawl, or squat. The rotations of their suit segments were confined to the horizontal plane.
Running towards it on a curved path, Hanson dived, throwing himself to the floor. There was another flash, another crack. But th
is close, he wouldn't be in the laser's line of sight. The momentum of his dive carried him right up to the guard. He grabbed his prod, reached out, and jabbed it against the guard's lower segment.
The guard fell to the floor, lights and effector fields dark. Hanson got to his feet and patted the silent suit. “Good job,” he said.
They were still on the clock. The next task was time-consuming and fiddly. With his companions' help, Hanson pulled the tent fabric out of its holding tray.
The membrane was lightweight, but voluminous – transparent, a couple of inches thick. It was like trying to work with a gigantic duvet.
As he'd hoped, it was partially smart matter. Ivis knew the touch commands to use it. Intelligent systems inside the membrane allowed him to activate certain properties. Most importantly, he could activate a magnetic lock to form an airtight seal between the walls and the membrane. And his could activate a chemical lock that formed an airtight seal between the membrane and itself.
Once he'd checked all this options to his satisfaction, he arranged the membrane around the main door, where the transport would dock. There, he sealed it to the wall above, below, and to one side of the door. The other side, to the left, was unsealed, leaving a gap of a few inches.
Now came the hard part.
Ivis settled close to the open side and spread out his effector fields, bracing himself against the walls and floor and ceiling.
Hanson held on to Ivis. He moved the membrane aside so he had a clear aim at the door, and raised his boxy laser. It was just a few inches away from the metal.
He fired.
A flash. A crack. At this range, the optical blowback was so strong that Hanson felt like he'd stuck his hand into an oven. Hanson fired once more, and pulled back before his hand could be cooked.
The second shot did it: The metal of the door, brought almost to melting point by the laser, bulged outward under the air pressure. Then, with a groaning clang, it burst open. The remains of the door fell open.
