{No, those bombs aren’t Mastai.} Petra’s voice turned harsh. {Jay set them. And I don’t think Jay’s who he claims to be.}
A shocked silence followed her declaration.
{Who is he, then? What’s his angle? And how are we going to get out of this shitstorm?}
Petra smiled grimly. That was Delia, ever practical. Even the threat of imminent death didn’t stop her sensible, pragmatic mind.
{As far as Jay goes, I don’t know, and I don’t care. I hope he goes down with the damn sky park. You’re going to get the goods up to the spaceport in orbit. We have clients waiting for us and deadlines to meet.}
{What if I need to reach you? With the swamper in place, once I leave the platform…}
Petra’s tongue probed the molar mic she’d stuck inside her mouth. {Have you run across any of the enforcers by chance on your walkabout?}
Delia’s startled {Yeah, actually,} had her smiling.
{Where?}
{Well, there was this one guy lying beside a trash can, looked like he’d been banged up pretty good. He was obviously ziptied, or he would’ve gone after me, I’m sure,} Delia said. {Got a real pissed expression on his face when he saw me, but he didn’t move a muscle. Why?}
{Apparently, our ‘good buddy’ Jay,} Petra leaned heavily into sarcasm, {told them to expect a jammer. They came prepared. He’s wearing a microphone that snaps around his back teeth. Go grab it.}
{Copy,} Delia said. {And… ewwww.}
Ignoring that last, Petra swiveled to scan the people in the tiki hut, slowing when it came to the man who’d rounded up the girls. He wasn’t looking her way, but some inner sense warned her to be wary of him.
After a few minutes, Delia returned. {Got it, saliva and all. Good thing there’s a lav nearby.} Her voice turned businesslike. {Headed for the shuttle now. You sure I shouldn’t wait? What about those bombs?}
Petra looked out through the hut’s ES field and up into the sky. {I hate to say this, but if Ike hadn’t spotted that Marine, the enforcers would’ve gotten the drop on us. Whoever these people are, they’ve handled the enforcers just fine; I think they’ll do the same with the bombs.} She turned away from the view. {I’m in with some of the park visitors. As far as they know, I’m one of them. I’ll leave when they do, and rendezvous with you when this is over.}
Her gaze settled on Tatiana. {And if I need it, I have an insurance policy standing right in front of me…}
40: TABLES TURNED
Searcy transport
With the shuttle flying a hold pattern around the sky park, Boone decided it was time to make his move. He shifted forward, but froze when he heard a muttered, “What in stars?”
He peered out. The woman in the pilot’s seat was staring at the platform, confusion written on her face.
“That’s not possible,” she said. “I’m well out of range.” Frowning, she began stabbing at the transport’s comm boards.
Abruptly, Boone realized the source of her confusion. She was right; the transport should have been out of range of the jammer… had it been still on the platform and not resting at his feet.
He took that as his cue to move.
Rising from his crouch, he leveled the CUSP at her head and growled, “Freeze.”
She did the opposite. Her head jerked around, her eyes colliding with his. Shock morphed into recognition and then anger as she realized who it was that held the weapon trained on her. As he’d predicted, she tried—and failed—to raise the partition.
“Where are they?” he demanded, his eyes drilling into hers as he sidestepped into the aisle, weapon locked on her face. Damn, but she looks familiar. Where have I seen her before today?
“Where are what?” She was one cool customer, he’d give her that. She’d recovered well from her initial surprise.
“The explosives you set on that platform. Where did you set them? And when are they scheduled to go off?”
Her eyes widened in mock innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Like I told you on the roof, I’m a maintenance worker for the sky park.”
“A woman, masquerading as a man, who just happens to abandon the platform in the middle of an emergency.” He narrowed his eyes at her.
“I figured the best thing I could do was leave and bring back help. The rest is none of your business.”
Boone’s barked laugh held no humor. “Yeah, you see, I’m thinking it is my business.” He shot a quick, pointed glance down at the pilot’s holoscreen, where the aircraft heading was clearly marked. “Setting the transport’s autopilot to circle the platform isn’t going to bring Searcy any help.”
A haughty look crossed her face. “The only responsible thing to do is to evaluate the situation first so that I can give the authorities as much helpful data as possible,” she retorted smoothly.
“I’m curious. How are you going to explain away the dazzler core I found in your toolbox?”
Her expression didn’t change, though her eyes blinked rapidly, an indication she was doing some fast thinking. She’d seemed confident in her conviction that she held all the cards, right up until he dipped a hand down and palmed the core. The CUSP’s barrel never wavered as he showed it to her.
“Waiting for this to shut off? That’s not happening any time soon.” He cocked his head. “I suppose you’d need it to be off, so you can send the remote detonation codes to the bombs you planted.”
Furious anger swept her face before it blanked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Boone cut her off. “You’re going to give me the locations of each device you set.”
Her lips slammed together, and she glared back at him in silence.
He shrugged. “No problem. My people will find them easily enough, after I turn you in to the authorities and shut the jammer off.”
“Go right ahead.”
Her tone held an edge of triumph to it that had Boone instantly wary. The only reason she’d respond in such a way was if she had some sort of a dead man’s switch. Or if she were bluffing. Problem was, he couldn’t afford to call her bluff. Nearly fifteen thousand lives hung in the balance.
He studied her as he tried to figure out how she’d set such a thing up. The only thing he could come up with was that the codes would automatically send if she lost consciousness, though the reasoning behind such an action escaped him.
Setting the core on the front row bench safely out of her reach, he moved forward until he could slip into the copilot’s chair. His rifle banged softly against the side door as he settled into the cushion, but he ignored it, his attention focused on his target.
“All right, then. We’ll do it this way. Hands out.” CUSP still pointed at her, he dipped his shoulder, and the coil of cable slid down to fall into his palm. He let the loop he’d fashioned at its end hang free. It dangled in front of her.
“Hands,” he instructed, extending the cable in her direction. “Through that loop. Now.”
Her body stiffened, but she refused to move.
She’s apprehensive. I can work with that.
He made a show of examining the weapon in his hand. He looked over at her.
“You know what this is?”
“Of course I do.” Her words dripped disdain. “It’s a CUSP. Law enforcement uses it.”
He nodded. “So does the Geminate Navy. But their Compact Ultra-Short Pulsed weapon,” he drew the words out, “doesn’t just paralyze, or flash-bang or flash-blind. It also has a thermal ablation setting.”
She stared at him blankly. He gave her a thin smile and let his eyes go flat and hard.
“Thermal ablation attacks your nerve endings. It isn’t pleasant. In fact, it delivers searing pain. You won’t be rendered unconscious. You’ll just wish you had.”
That was all it took; quickly, she shoved her wrists through the loop. He pulled on the cable, the wire tightening firmly about her wrists. Holstering the CUSP at the small of his back, he yanked on the cable, the action pulling her off balance.
When she tumbled forward, he looped the cable around her torso, binding her arms securely to her sides. She began cursing, low and furious, when she realized he had her trussed beyond any hope that she could free herself.
“All right then. Let’s have ourselves a little talk, you and me. Who are you with? Secede Sirius?”
When she still refused to reply, he shrugged. “Okay, then. We retreat until we’re too far for your wire to send the remote codes to the detonators. You’re still conscious, so no tripping a dead-man’s switch. Easy fix.”
Reaching across, he transferred the shuttle’s controls to the co-pilot’s station and turned the craft’s nose toward Port Defiance. That done, he settled back, CUSP once more in his hand.
“Once we get outside detonation range, the jammer goes off, and I call in reinforcements.”
A wild look crossed her eyes. She blurted out, “Not all of them are remote-code. Some are on timers. You leave the area, and I guarantee there’s no way you’ll be back quickly enough to save anyone on that platform.”
He lunged for the holocontrols with his free hand, bringing the shuttle to a hover. Two thoughts crashed together simultaneously inside his head. First, there was confusion.
Terrorists don’t overcomplicate things like this. What she’s saying makes no sense.
The second thought, following fast on the heels of the first, was a hard anger.
“What the hell did anyone ever do to you, lady?” he snapped. “You would sentence thousands of innocents to death just to make a statement?”
“You don’t know anything,” she hurled back.
His thumb toyed with the weapon’s dispersion settings, the movement drawing her eye. “Enlighten me.”
She gave a bitter laugh, her head dropping back as she cast her gaze skyward. “Why did you have to show up, today of all days?” she said under her breath. “You’ve ruined everything.”
“All a matter of perspective, I guess,” he told her. “From where I sit, almost fifteen thousand people probably think it’s a damned good thing I showed up.”
She straightened in her seat, her expression blanking as she lapsed into silence
Boone felt frustration well. He had to get this woman to talk. At the very least, he had to neutralize her in such a way that it didn’t trigger the detonation codes. His eyes landed briefly on the center console, and an idea began to form.
41: SAD FIVE BROS
Searcy transport
Boone kept the CUSP trained on the woman trussed in the pilot’s seat while he reached over and opened the transport’s center console.
“Look inside. Tell me what you see,” he instructed.
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Do it yourself.”
Boone lowered the CUSP, aiming it so that its beam would deliver a glancing blow. He fired.
She yelped and shrank away from him, her bound hands massaging her right thigh.
“The next one will be with my rifle, and not the CUSP.”
“You… you wouldn’t—” She glared at him, but he saw dawning belief in her eyes.
“Lady, you hold fifteen thousand lives in your hand. I’d shoot you in a heartbeat if it got me the intel I needed. Now, we can do this the hard way, with you bleeding all over the pilot’s seat,” he motioned to the console, “or you can pull out the first aid kit. Or don’t. Depending on where I shoot you, it could take a while before you bleed out.”
“This isn’t cooperation; it’s coercion,” she snarled.
“You say potato,” he said amiably.
She reached in and pulled out a first-aid kit. Based on its size, he was certain it would have exactly what he needed.
“Toss it to me, nice and easy,” he told her.
She did as instructed. He snatched the kit from the air when it came sailing his way. Opening it, he rummaged around until he found its analgesic cylinder. He set the kit aside and dug into his pocket to retrieve the crowbar she’d left attached to the loading bay door.
He’d pretty much been a bust at any medic training he’d ever taken. But the technique the special operators back on Searcy had taught him today was one he’d consciously committed to memory. How ironic that, mere hours after learning about it, Boone would find himself needing to use it. He stared down at the narrow analgesic cylinder in his hand, more than a little nervous that he might make a misstep and fumble the process.
“What are you doing?” the woman asked.
He looked up. The wrath in her eyes had been replaced by a banked panic, though she worked hard to conceal it behind a mask of indifference. He thought about letting her stew, but then considered the psychological effect a trickle of information might have upon her.
“Just a little something I was taught by a Unit operator,” he said noncommittally.
“Unit…?”
He smiled, but there was nothing at all friendly about it as he explained, “The Special Reconnaissance Unit. You know, the Geminate Navy’s elite fighting force. They’re the people on board that platform who are going to take you and the rest of the smugglers down.” He let amusement seep through into his tone as he lifted the cylinder in his hand. “I just hope I remember how to do it properly. They only taught me this today…”
Leaving his words to hang between them, he dismissed her and focused once more on the cylinder he held in his hand.
He accessed the recording of Gabe’s explanation that he’d stored in his wire’s data partition.
“If you find yourself trapped and in need of a fast way to incapacitate the enemy, grab an analgesic med-bot cylinder out of any standard first aid kit.” Gabe held up a hand, fingers spread as if holding an invisible canister between them. Then he motioned to Boone’s shorts. “You’ll also need that thing you have in your pocket. Not the drones; the LockPik.”
Thad crossed his arms. “A crowbar would work just as well, ami,” he reminded her.
Gabe’s head inclined in agreement.
“The nano package inside the cylinder contains medical analgesic bots, programmed to block certain neurotransmitters in the central nervous system that send pain messages to the brain. With a simple bit of reprogramming, the bots can be retasked to send an entirely different message.”
Thad leaned in, tapping his forehead. “Store this acronym in your memory banks, hoss: SAD FIVE BROS.”
“Shouldn’t that be ‘five sad bros?’” Boone’s voice asked.
One side of Thad’s mouth kicked up at that. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But if you tried that, you’d never get it to work.”
Asha stepped in. “Thad’s right; it’s SAD FIVE BROS,” she said. “The first step is to connect the LockPik or a crowbar to the top of the cylinder. Once it handshakes with the device, navigate through the following in the med-bots’ menu—”
Gabe supplied the list, the words softly spoken. “First, you select ‘System.’ Next, ‘Advanced.’ Then ‘Developer options.’ You’ll need to trigger dev options five times.” He stressed that last.
“A new menu will pop up on your overlay,” Asha took over the explanation. “Select ‘Backdoor’, then ‘Reserve access,’ and then ‘Override.’”
Gabe supplied the final step. “That brings you to the final S in SAD FIVE BROS.”
“Once the override menu pops up, it’ll ask you to input the command phrase,” Thad supplied. “That phrase is ‘Silent Shield.’”
Asha held up a cautionary hand. “You need to know this will alter the medical analgesic bots significantly…”
Boone paused the recording, chewing thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek. It was a complicated tangle of steps, but sure enough, the fifth time he pushed his military ID through to the developer options link on the menu, an entirely new set of choices emerged.
When he input Silent Shield, a question floated onto his overlay: ‘Rewrite bot programming? Yes/No.’
He selected yes, and then waited. When the cylinder’s dev menu flashed ‘Operation Complete’ at him, he knew he now held in his
hand a way to get the information he needed from the woman seated across from him.
“But what does knocking someone out have to do with interrogation?” he’d asked, more confused than ever—not that he didn’t appreciate the inside information.
Thad had grinned. “Caught that, did you?”
One corner of Asha’s mouth curled in a wry smile. “If you administer a half dose, you get a bot programmed to alter just enough neurotransmitters to change the subject’s brain circuitry to be exceedingly trusting. That mental state is what was used in the previous century as a sort of ‘truth serum’ during interrogation. It was surprisingly effective, though experienced operators have been known to spoof it.”
She’d gone on to explain that the altered nanomachines also limited the subject’s mental resources, impairing willpower.
Boone was banking on the combination of the two—trust and loss of self-control—to get him the information he needed. He was no interrogator, but he’d been taught basic tactical questioning, as had every Marine. Now all he had to do was implement what he’d learned.
Tossing the canister at her, he said, “Inject yourself.”
“Oh, hell no.”
He unslung the Kingsolver and aimed it at her thigh. “I’ll begin with your left knee. You don’t need it to talk.”
Hate burned in her eyes. “What did you do to it? How do I know this won’t kill me anyway?”
He shrugged. “You don’t. Honestly, there’s a good chance I didn’t remember it correctly anyway,” he lied.
She barked an incredulous laugh. “Go ahead, shoot me then. I won’t do it.”
He brought the scope to his eye and moved his finger to the trigger. It was enough.
“Okay, fine.” Her hand shook as she pressed the med-bot cylinder to her forearm and pushed the injector button.
Boone powered the rifle down and set it aside, exchanging it for the CUSP. He watched her intently, wondering how long it would be before the neurotransmitter would take effect. That was one thing Asha had neglected to mention.
Sudden Death (A Military Sci Fi Thriller) (The Biogenesis War Files) Page 18
