OxeroidR directed the drone to enter the round hole, and they had a chance to study what appeared to be an intact cubicle. OxeroidR looked at CabeX. It could be a trap.
“We’ll take it slowly,” he said. If necessary, they could blow it out of their way. Though if it were functioning, it would solve the problem of the toxic atmosphere.
“Deploy,” he told OxeroidR.
For the first time, Savlf felt hope fading. Xaddek wasn’t hurting her, but he was watching, which was almost as bad as the pain. So many eyes, hungry eyes. His species ate their prey alive. She’d heard it took a long time to die.
He’d entered soon after the comet drive was activated. She had not heard of such a thing. So he explained it to her. Explained how quickly they would arrive close to the Najer. Too fast for them to prepare.
She’d thought it would be safe to give Xaddek a location. To give him some of the code.
She’d been wrong.
And she was not brave enough to resist the pain. When they dropped out into real space, Xaddek would have a path into CabeX’s programming, a route she would not control.
For the first time, someone else was in the room with them. Zougrets, the only other person on this ship who could do what she did, and almost as well. With her pathway, Xaddek wouldn’t need her for the final step.
And then hope would die with CabeX’s freedom.
“As soon as we are in range, disable his self-destruct,” Xaddek ordered.
The kill switch was there, but he’d too busy fighting to survive to find it. While she could, she sent him a last message.
I am sorry, Savlf.
Bangle had modified a specialized hologram for them, one visible inside the headset of their body armor, so only they could see it. It was nice, but also increased Rachel’s tension. Hurry up and wait. She’d heard the military people talking about it. It was as annoying as she’d heard. Though if she could postpone the robots’ arrival forever, she wouldn’t complain.
She shifted her position. She’d thought the block of cement a beautiful sight when it rose from out of the floor, but now, with her back against it, it was just a block of cement. Unforgiving and badly angled for comfort. No light at all. Just music by Bangle and the sound of their breathing in the brief pause between songs. Was it better to have a playlist or silence? She wasn’t sure. Silence could be uncomfortable as she’d discovered too often.
At least they had something to “watch.”
There was the progress of Carey’s squadron, the transport ship, and the small ship that had left the bogey. Carey had put the pedal to the metal after she’d contacted him. He’d cut down some on their intercept time.
The small ship had dropped three figures and lifted off. Now it was circling the drop zone like a sentry. The outer edge of its track might be close enough for it to see the bay access open up. Nothing she could do but hope Bangle and the ships’ pilots handled it.
That left her some time to wonder why just three this time?
That bit of wondering didn’t take long since she didn’t have a clue.
One thing she could do was math, so she distracted herself from the rising tension by working out the various courses and intercepts. Bangle was doing that, too, but in Garradian. Whoever was flying those ships, they knew their stuff. She “saw” the transport and its fighter escort find the signal and steady out on a track. The outpost could “see” them, even though they were cloaked. The only area of exposure was the open bay doors. With careful timing, the bay access began to open when the bogey’s small ship was at its furthest point away. The two ships dropped neatly inside.
Her heart leaped for a minute when the small ship changed course, but it didn’t act like it had seen anything. And their three bogies were starting their tunnel descent.
Oh man, she hoped she’d said and done the right things. Encouraged the right moves. From the video, the bogies exuded both power and danger. Didn’t they need to exude some back?
Her body armor was surprisingly flexible. A little warm, which was odd because she was stone cold on the inside. Bangle’s music choices weren’t bad since she was choosing from songs Rachel liked. Something about the order of play made her want to giggle. She didn’t. She was afraid it would turn into hysteria.
“Rachel?” Valyr’s voice was low.
“Yes?” She prompted when he didn’t continue. She couldn’t see his face, his eyes. There was only his voice in the darkness. It was incredibly intimate. She leaned back and closed her eyes and let the sound of his voice in the dark warm her.
“I wish we had—” He stopped again.
She felt for his hand, even though it was two pairs of armored gloves, not hands, touching. At least she hoped he wished for what she wished. “Me, too.”
There was a long pause, then he spoke again.
“Do you fear death?”
Almost alone in the dark with a man who might matter more to her than seemed possible in such a short time, Rachel heaved a sigh. “I used to. Of course, when we are young we believe we are invincible, don’t we?” Not that she’d ever been what she’d have called young. She couldn’t remember a time when her IQ hadn’t come between her and almost everyone.
“We believe many things when we are young.” She thought he sighed. “Are you afraid?”
Rachel shifted so that she could hear him better, so she could pretend she could see him. Was she afraid of dying? She’d been afraid of a lot of things in a life that didn’t seem like it had lasted long enough all of a sudden. What made her afraid? She knew how to be alone. She’d nailed that one. But the unknown? Being wrong? Dying in pain like—she glanced at Valyr. Losing this man before they had a chance—
“I am, and I’m…not, I’m not afraid of dying.”
“When did you stop?”
“When I,” she swallowed dryly, “lost my family in a car accident.” Even now, so many years later, she felt the punch of pain in her gut. The constriction of her heart so that she couldn’t breathe. The slow fade of cushioning shock, and then the living, the doing, the going forward alone. Completely alone. Yeah, she knew how to be alone. It was a good time to remember that. People left, even when they didn’t want to. She didn’t fear death. It was living without—
“How old were you?” His quiet question was a relief.
“I was sixteen.” It was right before the Christmas holidays. She’d been looking forward to the break from college more than usual, to going home, and then she didn’t have one. The house was still there, an empty shell with forlorn Christmas decorations and presents under the tree waiting for people who would never open them. It was as if the house knew what she knew. That nothing would ever be the same again. People had rallied around, of course, because people did. But she presented an unusual problem for them. Not legally an adult, but she’d never been a child, not a real one. She could still see the look of relief, mixed with bewildered, on the face of the judge during her emancipation hearing. She solved the problem for them since she had been the only child of only children. Her mind still flinched from the memory of her brother and sister the last time she’d seen them. Was it harder that it was a happy memory? She didn’t know. How could she? She did know that she’d been left with regrets, guilt, and this aching cavern in her heart. They’d offered grief counseling, but she took the grief books instead. It was easier to read platitudes than hear them. They’d helped as much as anything could. She hadn’t, she realized now, stepped outside that circle of grief, or let anyone in until Sir Rupert. He’d required her to start interacting with others and not just code or equations or data. And then a naked man had stepped out of cryo-sleep…
“You?” The briefness of the question left open his option to choose what he wanted to say or not say.
“I have died once already.”
Going into that chamber must have felt like dying. She took a deep breath, then another. “Well, at least we won’t be alone.” At least he wouldn’t be alone this time. Unless—do not
even go there, Rachel.
The bogeys have reached the transit cubicle.
Rachel tensed. She did not know if Valyr tensed as well. Even Bangle paused the music as they strained to hear—
On the hologram, the cubicle began to descend. Right now, she could have done with more waiting. Bangle restarted the music. Daughtry singing “No Surprise.”
“You okay?” Sergeant Carolina City asked Captain Gibson. It was unusual for a rifle squad sergeant to be the backup pilot, but that was how it rolled in a galaxy far, far away.
“I’ll be fine.” Gibson gave her a familiar look, the one that said, “I got this.”
City wasn’t sorry to leave the bridge to him. It was freaking eerie, this descent into the heart of a planet. She’d quit looking when they passed the mile mark. City palmed open the hatch between the flight deck and passenger section, twelve sets of eyes shifting her way, the seated bodies subtly coming to attention. No view to the outside here. There was a view screen Gibson could have activated, but—not sure which was worse—they’d left it dark.
Not surprisingly, her squad was calm. This was probably one of the smoother rides they’d had. Gibson was a decent driver.
“We’ll be dirt side soon,” she said crisply. “You know the drill. As soon as the hatch drops, we go quiet. Not. One. Sound. We’ll stack at the hatch. Once it opens, the hostiles will be capable of hearing us. You do not want to be the one that draws their attention our way.” She triggered the view screen now, with the schematic they’d been sent. “According to our intel, there is an armory about one-fourth of a klick from the egress hatch. We can secure alien weapons which may be more effective against the hostiles. If it is open, we’ll access it two at a time. Quietly.”
This produced a lot of happy expressions. Well, why not? Who didn’t love alien tech?
“Did I mention we need to do this quietly?” They might have grinned. “I’ll go in first, in case I need to shoot one of you for making a noise.” Now she let her gaze grow stern. “No one, I do mean no one, fires a shot until I give the order, even if the hostiles and our people on the ground are exchanging fire. Those are our orders.”
They didn’t like it. Neither did she.
“Those are the rules of engagement.”
More nods.
“Squad Three!
Corporal Knight straightened some more. “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
“You will remain with the ships and keep the bay secure in case we need to fall back or escort our friendlies back.”
He didn’t like it, but it didn’t show in his second, “Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”
“We have people here, so let’s try to keep them alive. I have high confidence that you will all perform this mission in the finest tradition of the Marine Corps.”
Their oorah bounced off the ship’s walls.
She started to sit down but remembered the final order from Carey. “Oh, there’s a bird down here, a parrot. Don’t shoot it.”
She ignored the expressions that briefly appeared on their stone faces, and pulled down the jump seat, or at least what they assumed was a jump seat, and strapped in as Gibson’s voice came over the intercom.
“We’ve cleared the last lock…” Gibson said over the intercom.
Kraye had the hardest time fitting through the opening in the top of the transport cubicle. The robots could bend and angle in any direction, contracting or expanding as the situation required. Kraye, well he was what he was. He’d have been stuck without CabeX and OxeroidR. They yanked him down and then held him upright as the hatch snapped closed.
Some kind of system cleaner activated, exchanging the toxic atmosphere for something else. There was another sound, a different one, and then the cubicle began to descend. There was no one to exchange an uneasy glance with. The robots were intent on the next step and tracking their drop.
OxeroidR deployed more drones. The small swarm hovered in the air in front of the hatch that they all hoped would open at the right time. They were designed to clear defenses and would send them their first view of what waited in the control room. When they were almost down, the two robots reached up, hooking one arm onto protrusions in the ceiling. Then their other arms hooked under his and lifted him with them as they drew themselves out of sight. Kraye rested his feet on CabeX’s just as the cubicle came to a smooth stop.
After a pause, the hatch slid open.
He was aware, despite his suit’s filter, that the air still tasted stale. It was dark, so dark even their light-enhancing gear could not find shape beyond the hovering drones.
And there was the sound.
That surprised him most of all. It was not silent.
The darkness pulsed with rhythmic sounds. There was a pattern in the sounds. And there were words, he realized. In Standard, the common language in this region of space, or so they’d been told. His gear tried to translate, but it did not make sense to him. Clap for the Wolfman? Who was this Wolfman? Clap how?
The two robots dropped down, with him between them, though partially shielded by their metal bodies.
The drones moved forward, and patterns and forms began to appear on the holographic map of the room. Some low walls. Consoles on both sides. Ahead was a decorated wall, and in front of that was a lower wall with a small statue in front of it.
The drones spread into a pattern as they penetrated deeper, searching for the heat signatures of the two humans they knew were here. Or had been here before they had been shut out of the outpost’s systems.
Kraye was aware of the two robots stepping out of the cubicle. He waited until there was room and then followed them. Behind him, closer than he liked, the hatch slid closed. He might have protested or something, but he knew the two robots did not intend retreating, at least, not without what they wanted.
He couldn’t be sure, but he thought the sounds might be confusing the drones. They’d veered off in several directions until OxeroidR brought them back in a protective line, some high, some low, all deployed to find danger first. The sounds were coming from an intercom system, he realized.
“No heat signatures,” OxeroidR reported, over their private comm system.
Where were the two humans? They could be hiding, he supposed or had fled through the interplanetary transport system.
The drones were about halfway across the room. CabeX and OxeroidR had stopped just behind the walls that appeared to divide the control room from corridors that stretched off in each direction. Kraye stayed where he was. He did not want to get in the way if the robots went into action. It was not his function to fight, but to be their human voice if they found the heat signatures.
The drones widened their flight pattern and drew closer to the back of the room—
“That’s far enough,” a very human voice said.
The ramp lowered almost silently, only a small click when it met the decking. Squad 3, led by Corporal Knight, came out first with weapons ready, running quietly down the ramp, and taking a defensive position with their guns pointed out. The lighting was low, the outline of their fighter escort Dauntless between them and where the egress hatch lay. Nothing moved except the next squad of Marines. They filed quietly to the big doors. The next squad came out with the Sarge in the lead. She gave them the high sign and headed for others. There was a slight whoosh of sound and the feeling of different air washing past them.
And the distant sound of something that kind of sounded like music.
No sound from them. The only indication they were in motion was when the big doors slid quietly closed again.
Knight relaxed a micrometer, had the sensation of someone looking at him—he glanced down and saw a parrot sitting on the ramp quietly pecking away his chest feathers. He looked up and met the startled gaze of PFC Fox. He shrugged and turned his attention back to where the danger would come.
Those big doors.
“That’s far enough.”
Their video view of the intruders was unsettling. The red glow of two sets o
f eyes and nothing else. Rachel could hear the soft hum of the drones in between the pauses in the music, but nothing else. Not breathing. Not the sound of movement.
She still had her back to concrete, using the video feed to judge when to speak. She didn’t want them to get close enough to fire down on them. Based on the height of the eyes, these dudes were tall.
Bangle’s most ironic choice yet filtered softly into the room—it had lowered the volume as if it knew they needed their ears, too. “Under the Boardwalk?” Seriously? Even so, she had a hard time not starting to at least bob her head along with it.
At the sound of her voice, the drones closed on their position—then sparked into hundreds of painful lights. They dropped to the floor.
I’m a protection robot.
Rachel blinked. Maybe they would survive this.
And then the two robots opened fire on Siru.
Her squad had just left the armory when City saw and heard the shooting start. With her infrared headgear, she could see three figures, two large, one about their height in the corridor ahead. The two large figures were doing the shooting.
The smaller figure was the danger. All the bogey had to do was look their way, and they’d all be in the firefight. Suppressing an urge to send her squads running forward, she signaled her two best ghosters to do a non-lethal neutralization on the bogey.
She didn’t see her guys moving toward the bogey, so she was pretty sure he didn’t see it coming. She kept the rest of the squad in position so that they wouldn’t give them away. For a minute, two shadows rose up by the bogey and then he slumped.
She moved the rest of the squad out as light danced and flickered ahead of them. All they had to do was get in position before the two big bogeys realized they had a man down and they’d been flanked.
A female voice? It was possible, CabeX decided. It was a mistake to speak. The drones swerved toward the sound—
Lost Valyr: Project Enterprise 7 Page 19
