The deal was on.
______ ______ ______
Mahran sat in the deep cushioned hotel room chair, hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He stared blankly at the ground just in front of the bed.
“You look tense,” Floreina noticed.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied. “I’m worried.”
“What do you think is going to happen?”
“I don’t know; I think they might figure out what you’re doing; or at least get suspicious. The cops might get wind of the whole deal… who knows…”
“I know, Buddy. I’ve thought about all this.”
“And you absolutely need to detonate my heart if we get caught? Even if there’s absolutely nothing I can do to help you?”
She nodded. “Of course, Mahran. We’re a team; if I go down, you must go down with me.”
“But you know I will do everything possible—“
“Don’t,” she stopped him, waving a hand. “Don’t even talk about it. It’s far too dangerous, and you know it. You would be left alone to fend for yourself out here. You’re mine until the conditions for your release are met. That’s your duty, and don’t forget it.” She paused. “But remember, Mahran, if you die, then I will surely die as well. I won’t pop your heart for no good reason, nor simply because I get scared. And I wouldn’t have put myself in that kind of danger, now would I?”
“That’s what I don’t know,” he replied. “You have a lot to gain if this works…”
“Absolutely. And so do you.”
The door chimed. The dinner delivery drone, no doubt.
Mahran got up to answer, then returned to set the two trays on the small dining table in the corner of the hotel room.
“But when this is over, and you have your boosters and we’ve disposed of the bodies and vacated the hotel rooms, then I can go free, right?” He looked at her questioningly. “And my bother, Charmann?”
She nodded minutely. “That is the deal you weaseled out of me, is it not?”
He nodded. “Yes.”
Mahran stared at his food for a long while.
“Do you want to trade?” Floreina asked.
“Hmm?” Mahran replied, looking up. “You don’t like what you ordered?”
“You’re not eating.” She popped a roasted potato into her mouth and looked at her slave.
Mahran looked back at his plate, picked up his cheeseburger, and set it back.
“You wanna try some of my duck?”
He shook his head. “How do you stay so calm in front of something like this?”
She shrugged. “I'm scared too… ”
“Couldn’t you have negotiated someone else to come along with you for protection?”
“It’s complicated,” she replied. “In order to have complete control over the location, this was one of their stipulations.”
Mahran took a slow bite of his burger.
“You took enough Vitoc this morning to safely get you all the way through the weekend?”
He nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“You feel prepared?” she asked.
“Physically, yes… mentally… about as ready as I’ll ever be.”
______ ______ ______
“Okay, final checklist,” Floreina prompted, watching Mahran pack the rolling suitcase that he would drag through the air ducts. “Communication interface,” she started.
“Check,” Mahran replied. He typed onto the keypad and Floreina immediately felt the message appear through her implant. Hello, Master Floreina.
She replied within milliseconds, Greetings my little buddy. This is your time to shine.
He closed the screen and placed it in the suitcase.
She listed other items and he checked them off as he packed. Four liters of water, four days worth of food rations, the drone tracking unit, flashlight, the control box that plugged into the system, an air quality monitor, air purification mask, small utility knife, pillow, an explosive device that he could use to break his way through the air duct, and of course, a small portable toilet.
Finally he had everything packed up. He stood by the air vent cover, staring blankly.
“Everything’s gonna be fine,” Floreina assured him.
Mahran turned around, looked at her and nodded. “I will do my best.”
“I know you will.”
He removed the cover, placed it on the bed and pushed the suitcase into the opening.
But before he climbed on the back of the chair, Floreina stepped forward to wrap her arms around her slave and hold him tight. “This is the point where both our lives change. My life is in your hands, Little Buddy.” She felt his breath down her neck as their cheeks pressed together. “You’ll do me proud.”
They released. “Thank you for this,” said Mahran as he climbed into the small hatchway.
“And thank you.”
And within a minute he was gone, crawling down the tunnel toward his duty.
______ ______ ______
Floreina opened her eyes to see herself sitting in a strange bed, her implant rapidly pulling her from sleep with an important announcement. Floreina collected her thoughts and listened to the message.
It was time for the deal. They picked the middle of the night when they knew she would be asleep. They obviously didn’t trust her.
She was up like a flash, pulling her clothes on, simultaneously linking with the computer system to contact Mahran.
A minute went by as she frantically pulled her shoes on and checked herself in the mirror. And two went by. But finally, Mahran replied. Was sleeping. Is it time right now?
Yes, she replied.
I’m awake. Will be ready momentarily, he typed.
You’ve got five minutes. She checked her air filtration device, and strapped it to her face. She stuffed her steel retracting baton into the front of her pants.
She moved swiftly down the corridors and hopped into a transport pod to carry her most of the way to their meeting site.
“Greetings,” said Reihmar as she arrived at the other hotel room. He shook her hand. Two other gentlemen stood behind him. One carried a suitcase. Reihmar motioned to them. “May I introduce Otin and Martel,” he said.
“A pleasure.” Floreina shook their hands. “Okay, lets head inside.”
And they moved into the presidential suite, the three men following Floreina. Four decorative pillars divided the room. Two white couches sat in the center, separated by a clear, solid resin coffee table. Several smaller tables sat around the outside of the room along with a computer interface desk. A door led to the bathroom on the left side of the room, and another led to the adjacent suite, which the gentlemen did not know that Floreina had also rented for the weekend.
She watched as Martel checked the bathroom, then moved to the secondary door, trying the lock pad and seeming satisfied with the denial beep. He continued to check the rest of the room.
“So what’s up with the mask?” asked Otin.
“I seem to have come down with a case of itonksinitis in the last couple days.”
Otin nodded suspiciously. “Well, it’s not necessary for you to worry about us. We can catch it from you; that’s fine with us; we can deal with a cough for a while for a deal like this.”
She shrugged, taking the mask off and holding it in her lap. “It helps with my breathing though, as it filters a lot of the contaminants out of the station air… air quality control in this station is less than optimum…”
“It just makes me feel a lot more comfortable when I can see your face.”
She laughed. “Okay… like you think I’m going to do something crazy with three of you men here…”
“Hmmph,” Otin snorted. But he sat down on one of the couches, seemingly satisfied.
Floreina contacted Mahran. Are you watching this? Wait for my order to release the numbing agent, then a minute later I’ll give the order to release the real gas. Keep a monitor on the air flow and inform me the moment the gas hits the room.
I’ll be breathing the numbing agent like everyone else, so I won’t be able to tell when the real gas hits, and I’ll need to sneak some breaths through my mask when they’re not looking.
Copy that, Mahran typed. Be careful.
Floreina looked at the men in the room, feeling a separation of consciousness, as they had no idea what was being communicated in the back of her mind.
Meanwhile, Reihmar used a small scanner to search the room for weapons. Floreina took out her own scanner a moment later and did the same.
“Are you ready to see the merchandise?” asked Reihmar after completing his scan.
“Absolutely,” Floreina replied.
And Martel set the protective suitcase down next to the transparent coffee table, and slowly retracted the opening. Inside sat two cylinders within a protective monitoring case. Martel slowly pulled one straight up to remove it from its encasement, and gently showed it to Floreina, holding it in both hands.
“There it is,” admired Martel. “Two standard exile Boosters.” He placed the booster back in its case before she had a chance to touch it.
“Let me test them,” Floreina requested, getting her scanner ready to connect to the feedback outlet on the booster monitoring device.
“Right.” Martel entered a password and pushed it toward Floreina.
She connected the scanner and watched the readout as it listed the elements, finally matching the chemical diagram it held on exile combat boosters.
“Excellent.” She nodded and put away the device.
And she sent another mental message to Mahran just a few meters above her head.
Release the numbing agent.
Copy that, he replied.
Floreina sat on the couch to wait. She looked as though simply tired and cautious, but inside her mind was a flurry of connections to the local network, checks of her helper applications, and tests of her personality software, giving constant readouts of probable thought patterns of the three men.
“Okay, now lets transfer the money,” said Martel.
“You’re anxious,” Floreina replied, examining the booster case.
“We've shown the merchandise—I trust to your satisfaction—now show the cash. Where's your credit interface?”
She held out her tiny datapad wallet.
“There’s an interface right there.” He pointed at the desk. “Let’s get to it.”
She stared for a time at the suitcase, trying to buy herself just another couple minutes.
The room should be saturated with the numbing agent now, Mahran typed.
Good. Go ahead and release the real stuff. You have your mask on, right?
Copy, Mahran replied. Wearing mask. Wear yours.
“Let’s go!” Martel ordered. “This deal was supposed to be in and out. No time for games and pranks.”
Floreina stood slowly as her implants warned her of Martel’s growing anxiety, as though she could not see for herself. She walked casually toward the console on the wall, painfully aware of the men watching her.
Is it possible to create a diversion when I’m at the computer terminal? Floreina asked Mahran.
What should I do? he typed back as she arrived at the table.
Do you have control over anything in the bathroom?
Several seconds passed as she fumbled with the datapad. She became aware of the feeling in her throat and lungs, a softness, a deepening comfort, and an absence of sensation. It seemed so obvious to her now that she was focused on the sensation.
Gas hitting the room, came Mahran’s reminder. Shower on.
And as she pressed random controls on the datapad, she heard the shower turn on.
“What's that?” Reihmar exclaimed.
Martel and Reihmar moved quickly toward the bathroom, but Otin merely looked curiously in their direction, then turned back toward Floreina.
She took a small breath, knowing the deadly gas was permeating her lungs. A second later she put the mask casually to her face, and took a much larger breath. Otin watched, but didn’t seem concerned.
And as Reihmar and Martel returned from the bathroom after shutting off the water, Floreina realized the distraction idea had been a mistake.
“Something strange is going on here,” Martel exclaimed. “I want to see the money.”
“Yeah,” Reihmar agreed. “Lets see the money. Bring it up on the screen.”
“I’m having some troubles with my account,” Floreina stalled. She held her breath, remaining still, attempting to remain calm, to slow her breathing, so she could sneak her few breaths through the filtration mask.
“What sort of troubles? Put it up on the screen so we can see.”
“Something isn’t working right with this terminal,” she lied.
“In an executive suite?” Martel said. “That seems unlikely. Bring up the screens. Show us what you’re doing.”
Floreina brought the mask to her face. She had no choice at this point. And Martel’s eyes narrowed as she did so. “Something seems to be screwed up at this station,” she said, breathing comfortably through the filter. “The screen isn’t responding.”
Martel stared at her for a long moment. “I’m not buying this… something’s up.” He turned and moved swiftly back to the case, closed it and headed toward the door with the merchandise. “I’m out of here.”
“Now, come on,” Reihmar coaxed. “Just give her a minute.” He turned toward Floreina. “You can’t get your account to come up?”
“I’m trying,” Floreina said. “We put a specialized encryption on it…”
That door had better be locked, she told Mahran, glancing at Martel heading swiftly toward the exit.
“Deal cancelled,” Martel declared. “We’re out. Let’s go, gentlemen.”
Reihmar ran after him. “Just a second! Hold up. Let’s give this a minute.”
Otin continued toward the middle of the room, between the couches, and stopped to say simply, “Martel…”
But Martel shrugged them off and continued toward the door.
Floreina’s brain whirled as every useful application powered up. Her situation would deteriorate when they found the door locked.
Her medical implant prepared emergency injections, motion analyzers calculated her position relative to escape routes, and emotional suppressants began selectively blocking pathways.
Floreina pulled the straps around her head to hold the mask against her mouth. She turned to watch the men as she moved toward the doorway to the adjoining room.
She watched Martel punch the door control, and heard the denial beep. He tried again, then turned back to Floreina.
Floreina began moving more quickly toward the doorway, but remained turned toward the three men, backing toward the wall. They all turned to stare at her for a long, uncomfortable moment.
And she felt her brain flood with chemicals. Colors became vibrant. Sounds became slow and clear, as though she was able to isolate the rustling of each of the men’s clothing from across the room.
Time seemed to slow. They stared for what seemed like an endless moment.
She felt her muscles strengthen, and all her miniscule aches and pains washed away with the steroids suddenly coursing through her system.
Floreina smiled involuntarily behind the mask as the artificial enhancements took their full effect, and took another gliding step toward her escape door.
“She’s gassing us,” said Martel.
“It would seem that way,” Reihmar replied.
And the three stared for another moment as Floreina took one more step.
Then Otin leapt forward, running straight over the top of the couch toward Floreina. Behind him, Martel dropped the booster case and bolted forward along side Reihmar.
Floreina’s legs took action almost involuntarily. It took only two long leaps to reach her exit door. It opened as she arrived and began sliding shut almost before she had passed into the adjoining suite.
But the door slid too slowly on its track.
He screamed as the door pressed against his hand, but he forced his other hand into the seal, and a moment later, the other two men arrived and began pulling on the door as well.
Floreina drew her baton, extended the weapon, and jumped forward to hit their fingers as they stuck through the opening. She had time to strike only once as the door began to retract against their pull, then finally snapped from its track and fell into the wall.
Martel barged through the door, running, arms outstretched and reaching toward the filter still covering Floreina’s mouth and nose. She swung the baton, allowing her combat implant to guide her movements around Martel’s blocking arm. It connected with his forehead, throwing him off balance momentarily.
She turned and kicked, to connect with Otin’s shin as he came around to her left. He reached frantically for the mask, but Floreina ducked away to leap onto, then over the bed. She stood on the other side, baton raised.
The three men stood, stunned for a moment. Focusing on her breathing, she stared back from the small gap between the bed and the tapestry hanging along the wall. If she could hold off their attacks for another minute or so, the gas would permeate their lungs.
But they weren’t going to give her that kind of time. Instead, Reihmar moved forward, coming around the front of the bed, the other two advancing from the side to pin her against the corner.
And Floreina realized she couldn’t wait for the gas, her implants reminding her of the danger of being backed into a corner. Reihmar was separated from his partners by a couple meters, and was larger and slower, and probably had less combat training so Floreina decided she needed to take an aggressive approach. If she could just take down the fat man, perhaps that could stall the others long enough for the gas to overwhelm them.
So she jumped up to land on the bed, and leapt toward Reihmar, swinging the baton. Focusing and relaxing her mind, she allowed the implant to guide her.
Missing his outstretched hand by a couple centimeters, the weapon struck the top of Reihmar’s head. He staggered for only a split second, but brought his hands to his head, allowing Floreina slightly more room to move. She kicked, connecting with his forehead, then turned to leap toward Martel, bouncing from the mattress.
Against A Rock Page 8
