October 29, 2361 AIA
P41
The blast and deep thud of the explosion reverberated throughout the building.
Every gang member turned toward the front while Detective Aditya and the two plainclothes MPs he’d brought with him looked around in confusion.
“What’s that?” Aditya asked.
Helena Melo was too busy motioning to her boys to answer him. Two of them broke away from the tense group and headed toward the entrance. Two others went to check the windows.
“Hey!” the detective shouted. “What was that?”
Helena turned to where Daghar was standing. “Nourie-baby, we have to get you out of here.”
Temo took the apothecary by his shoulders and pulled him away.
Aditya reached out to take Helena’s shoulder. “Melo! I said—”
She slapped his hand aside. “I heard you, Detective. I don’t waste time with stupid questions. Oh!” Her eyes narrowed, and she tilted her head. “You’ve never heard it from this side before, have you?”
The detective felt a trickle of sweat roll from his armpit down his ribs.
The front door only took one hit from the battering ram before it collapsed away from its mutilated hinges.
Streams of uniforms poured into the waiting room. The two gangsters Melo sent to meet them shot a series of blasts so thick it almost created a field of energy. The sound of their firing was lost in the shouting and the crash of boots. When the two gangsters saw the blasts dissipate when they hit the soldiers’ armor, they dropped their e-pistols and drew the weapons from their shoulder holsters.
“They’ve got ancients!”
Half the soldiers dropped to get out of the hail of bullets passing over their heads. Those that had any kind of real protection used their weapons to force the two men back toward the door behind them.
The shouting grew louder. Some soldiers cried out for help while others called for backup.
The soldiers’ squad leader had the three people closest to him pull out the wounded and signaled for the rest to follow him. The team burst through the door to the main room, raked the area with the muzzles of their XM4s, then fixed them on the three men standing in the middle of the room with their hands half raised.
Detective Aditya realized his only hope was to bluff. “What are you—”
“MP! Your hands! Get your hands up!”
“No, you don’t get—”
The butt end of an e-rifle smashed across his face. “Hands up!”
Three of the soldiers went up to Aditya and his two assistants. They pulled the men’s hands down and started securing them with cuffs while the rest of the squad covered them or began canvassing the large room. As several soldiers drew close to the boxes stacked near the back wall, a storm of bullets flew over them.
Aditya was dragged to the ground by the half-attached cuffs when the MP securing him was struck.
The squad leader went to his knee and began firing back at the gangsters barricaded behind the boxes. All but one of the soldiers followed his example. The odd-one-out crawled over to Aditya, forced him flat on the ground, threw his e-pistol to the edge of the room, and dragged his hands up behind his back to finish securing him.
The detective felt an elbow dig into his spine, between his shoulder blades. A hand grabbed his hair and yanked his head back.
“Where are the prisoners?”
The noise of the room was so deafening, Aditya could barely hear the voice hissing in his ear.
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “What?”
Another yank. His throat was strained so tight he thought it might rip. “The prisoners you were here to pick up! Where are they?”
“You know?”
His face was smashed into the floor then pulled back up. “Where are they?!”
Who was this woman? “I don’t know! We barely arrived!”
She dropped his head, fixed her XM4 to her shoulder, and took out the last of the gangsters still shooting. The others had fled deeper into the building.
The squad leader left one of his men with the prisoners and led the rest into the hall. His second-in-command drew close as they crept through the suddenly quiet building.
“They’re in retreat,” his second muttered.
“Where are they retreating to?” the leader whispered.
Another MP, her face obscured by the cumbersome masks they were forced to wear, quickened her pace to reach them. “There’s a side alley to our right. A loading dock.”
The squad leader slowed as they approached a corner. “Are there any other exits?”
“No.”
“Then they’re heading that way,” his second said. “Is it covered?”
The leader nodded.
They reached the split off. There was nothing in front of them, but a hall extended to their left and right. The leader put his head around the corner, then yanked it back as a blast ricocheted off the wall.
“Cover me.”
He put his head around the corner again while his second scattered shots from his place above him. They both pulled back a moment later, but not before the second took a bullet to his arm. His rifle clattered to the ground, and he collapsed against the wall.
“Shit,” the leader managed to gasp through his heavy breathing.
The woman tore off a strip of her shirt below the armor, checked the second’s arm to confirm an exit wound, and began tying the bandage. “What is it?”
“They stopped at a panel.”
“A panel?” She overcame her surprise and finished jerking the knot into place over the wound.
“Do we have anyone monitoring the building?” the leader asked his second.
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The man’s head rocked back and forth over the brick wall. “I-I don’t—”
“I do.” The woman put a hand to her ear. To someone not present, she said, “We have activity at a panel.” The erratic sound of shots from the gangsters was the only noise. “Find it!” She looked at the leader. “Are they coming for us?”
Another dodge. “One. He’s got an ancient.”
The woman leaned around the corner with her rifle raised and pulled the trigger once.
There was the sound of a heavy pistol dropping to the tile. The return fire was reduced to nothing but e-weapons, but even they were failing.
“They’re retreating again,” she said. “I think that was their last ancient.”
“Good. Any word on the panel?”
She put her hand up to her ear again. Her eyes widened. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What is it?” the leader demanded.
“They’re covering their retreat or destroying evidence. We can’t tell if it’s bombs or firebombs.”
“Bombs?”
“Do you have a computer expert?”
The leader shook his head.
“My boy’s working on it. He says he can delay it, but if it can’t be shut down, we only have around eight to ten minutes. Pray it’s firebombs.”
The squad followed the path the retreating gang had taken. When they reached a staircase, the leader divided them into two groups with one swift hand motion. He pointed for the second group to go down to the lower level.
One young corporal was about to move as directed, but he felt a firm tug on his collar. The person behind him jerked a thumb, indicating he was to follow the squad leader. He turned and jogged the two steps to catch up.
The person who had redirected him stopped only long enough to pick up the Glock 40 laying in front of the gangster’s corpse. It had been Donny.
Behind the mask, Reyer shook her head.
She let the e-rifle hang on its strap as she checked to see how many cartridges were left in the Glock. She slammed the magazine back into gun, put it in her belt, and ran to catch up with the other three men heading down the stairs.
When her small group reached the basement, they checked every corner and scoured every hall. Nothing. Every unlocked room was inspected. The gang had gone the other way. The three men and Reyer met at the stairs.
“We have to get out of here.”
“How many minutes left?”
“I don’t know.”
“The wounded back in the first two rooms don’t know about the bombs—”
“Geez.”
“Help get them out.”
The three men nodded. They started up the stairs while the last of their number slipped back into the empty halls.
As Reyer rushed back toward the locked door, she pulled out the plasti-explosive she’d stolen. It felt like a pitifully small amount. She slammed it over the lock, bashed on the door three times with her palm, then pushed in the trigger-timer she’d rigged. After she flipped the switch, she stepped out of the way. There was a high-pitched noise, then the dull thump of the small explosion.
Alix pulled off her helmet and let it drop to the ground as she limped over to the door. She held her breath until she was close enough to see the lock cover was blown free. With a quiet laugh, she pulled out her multi-tool and snapped open the pliers.
A few seconds later, she had stripped out the mechanism and pulled back the bolts. She turned the handle, but the door was pushed open from the inside.
Vas tucked an arm around her and pulled her close enough to lay a kiss her forehead. “Did you bring me anything?”
She pulled out the Glock, two e-pistols, and a knife.
“Aw,” he said. “You do love me.”
He reached behind himself to pass Gardner one of the e-pistols. The former general scowled but took it. He pulled back the slide to check the power source while Vas armed himself.
“Cartridges?” he asked.
“Only two,” Reyer said. “Do you even know how to use that model?”
“I can figure it out. What else have we got?”
“A way out. Follow me. I can brief you as we go.”
Vas grabbed her arm before she could get away. “Why are you so pale?”
“We have to go, Captain.”
“We’re not going anywhere. I can see you shaking. Your cheeks are bright red.”
“Ciro has managed to delay a trigger Melo set off, but he hasn’t been able to disarm it yet. You can interrogate me about my health later!”
Gardner cleared his throat. “As endearing as your blatant concern for her is, Captain, I have to agree with Miss Reyer. We shouldn’t just stand here.”
As the three of them moved through the basement’s empty halls, Reyer explained the situation.
When she was done, Gardner demanded, “Where’s Melo?”
Reyer glanced over her shoulder. For the first time since she’d met the man, she could believe he’d once been a general.
“Does it matter?” she asked.
“It does.”
“I don’t know. The MPs were pushing them out toward the loading dock. They’ll be surrounded if they get out there.”
“Where are we going?” Vas asked.
“Ciro found an alternative route.” She stopped in front of a slender fire escape ladder screwed to the wall. There was barely enough room to fit their fingers between the rungs and the bricks.
“Can you make it up that?” Vas asked.
“Well, Captain,” Gardner said, “it’ll be difficult hauling this much weight, but you’d be amazed what a man can do when the carrot he’s bribed with is his own survival.”
Vas spared half of a precious second to give the general a look. “I was talking to her.”
When he turned back, Alix was already partway up the ladder. She stopped with her body half through the floor above so she could sweep the level with her gun, checking for any movement. There were noises, sirens, and shouting, but all of them were from a distance. She continued on to the next level. Once more she made sure it was clear before she hauled herself out onto the floor.
All Reyer wanted to do was lay there, feeling the cold tiles sap away heat from her flushed body, but she knew Vas would be up in a moment. She couldn’t let him see her like that. She managed to force herself to her knees but could get no further.
Once Adan was out of the hole and standing beside her, he helped her to her feet. “You took stimulants, didn’t you?”
“I had to, Captain.”
Reyer turned away from his disapproving stare and brought her XM4 up to keep them covered as Gardner struggled to get his bulk into the room.
“God…damn…fat…prejudice!” The words spewed out with every wrench of Gardner’s body.
When he made it, he stood there panting. “Right.” He straightened his shoulders and tried to muster what was left of his dignity. God, he needed a drink. “Where’s this exit you have for us, Miss Reyer? Is it toward the loading dock?”
Reyer pointed across the room to a wide window. The streetlights created an angled shadow that deformed the bizarre silhouette. For a moment, it reminded Vas of a nightmare. Then he realized it was Lynx, holding himself to the window by the frame.
“Dear Lord,” Gardner muttered. “Tell me that thing is on our side.”
Vas pulled the general toward the window. “How far is the drop?”
“Fifteen feet. Lynx will take us down one by one—” Reyer stopped talking and pressed her hand to her ear. Then she looked up at the captain. “They finished securing the gang and the MPs have got some ‘lunatic’ trying to shut down the triggered system. He cut Ciro out.”
“What does that mean?” Gardner asked.
“That means that Ciro can’t delay whatever Melo set off any more,” Vas said. To Reyer: “How long?”
“He says maybe five minutes.”
“Where are they holding the gangsters?” Gardner asked.
“I don’t know! That’s not our problem.” Reyer nodded to Lynx, grabbed Gardner and Vas by the arms, and turned them away from the window. They all ducked as the glass behind them shattered.
The alarm’s blare dropped into the room like a bomb. Sounds from the outside crept through the window’s remaining glass teeth.
Lynx stood with one mechanical foot on the sill, the other crushing the shards on the floor.
“Are you ready, General Gardner?” The robot held out his hand.
“No!” Emery Gardner stepped back. “I can’t go yet.”
“We have to go!” Reyer yelled over the alarm. “We don’t have any time.”
“Just tell me where the gangsters are!”
“I told you, that’s not our problem!”
“But it is our problem! If it’s not yours, at least it’s mine! I’m not going until I’ve had a chance to talk to Helena Melo. Or someone. Anyone in her gang.”
The building was surrounded, if not filled, by Supremacy military police. The alarm was screaming. A chain of god-knows-what had already been set off and was waiting to explode.
Vas stepped forward. “We don’t have time to argue. Lynx!” As the robot came toward them, the captain reached out and snatched the wireless headphone from Reyer’s ear.
His order for Lynx to pick her up drowned out her startled objection.
“Take her back to the ship.” He had to raise his voice again to talk over Alix’s new objections. “Go there directly. Get there as fast as you can. Don’t let her return here within the next hour, and don’t let her seek out any trouble.”
“Understood, Captain,” Lynx said.
“Begin anti-Reyer program.”
“What?!” Reyer yelled.
“Duration?” Lynx asked.
“One hour.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Vas allowed himself a second to look at her. Pale, red blotches on her cheeks, trembling, and furious. He smiled.
“Go!” he yelled at the bot. He tucked the headset over his ear as he turned away. “What do we have, Ciro?”
With Reyer in his arms, Lynx ran to the window and jumped. When he landed, he bent every joint and loosened every shock in his body to try to take the impact into his frame. Alix still cried out. Her hand left the XM4 to grab onto the robot’s chest plate. The e-rifle hung off her shoulder and clattered against the bot’s arms as his long legs ate up the ground.
“The captain was right,” the robot noted. His voice was unaffected by his pace. “You are in no shape to continue fighting.”
When the wave of pain and nausea passed, Reyer found she could speak again. “Lynx, what the hell is the anti-Reyer program?”
“It’s a program directed by Adan Vas and designed by Ciro Vas. Once orders are understood and accepted, if the anti-Reyer program is active, they cannot be reinterpreted or adjusted to account for a new understanding presented by argument.”
Alix shut her eyes. She wanted to laugh, but even that soft sensation in her stomach caused it to heave. She fought back the urge to vomit by taking a deep breath in through her nose.
“I don’t suppose I can talk you out of it?”
“You can’t,” Lynx said. “The captain made certain of that.”