by R S Penney
She dropped into a crouch right next to the booth, holding the pistol in both hands. From here, Jack could see that she was frowning, nodding to herself as she planned her next move.
She knocked on the door.
A moment later, it swung inward, allowing the attendant to step out into the cool night air. He turned his head, scanning the parking lot for the source of the disturbance. He had just enough time to fix his gaze on Jack when Anna fired.
A stun round hit the side of his belly.
The man spasmed, his arms and legs flailing as though he had been hit by a Taser. In a way, he had. Stun rounds were charged with just enough electrical current to give a grown man a good zap.
The attendant stumbled forward, landing face down on the pavement. Poor fellow. This was better than killing him or beating him senseless, but it could still do harm. If the guy had a heart condition…
Clamping a hand over his mouth, Jack squeezed his eyes shut. “Will the guy be alright?” he asked. “I'm not a doctor, but that couldn't have been good for him.”
“He should be fine,” Anna said. “The Gate?”
“Right.”
Inside, the little booth was so cramped that Jack could barely raise his arms without hitting both walls. A workstation with a computer monitor and keyboard was positioned under a window that looked out on the street. He saw only a few shops on the far side of the road, but he knew his team was out there.
Biting his lower lip, Jack squinted down at the console. He nodded to himself. “It has to be here somewhere,” he muttered. “If I were the switch that raised the guard rail, where would I be?”
A big red button.
He pushed it.
Instead of the explosion that he more than half expected – some clichés were far too obvious – the black-and-white guardrail moved upward to make a clear path for vehicles to enter the parking lot.
He left the booth just in time to watch a large gray van pull up through the narrow lane that led to the street. Headlights blinking, it settled to a stop right in front of him, allowing him to peer through tinted windows on the driver's side.
The door slid open. “Come on!” a harsh voice beckoned from the darkness. “We don't have all bloody night!”
Jack didn't waste another second. Hopping through the opening, he dropped to his knees on the van's floor. He couldn't see much, but enhanced spatial awareness allowed him to sense half a dozen people buckled into seats on his left and another half dozen on his right.
Anna followed mere moments later, grunting as she knelt down on the floor. She muttered something in Leyrian – something about piggish men with nasty BO; he had been studying the language – and then pulled the door shut.
Before he could so much as think, the van was moving again. He had been bonded to the Nassai for several days before he noticed an improvement in his sense of direction. That has always been pretty solid – Jack had been able to find his way home from almost anywhere – but the symbiont had made it even easier.
Even trapped in the pitch-dark van, he could tell they were driving toward the building and then turning toward the parking garage. So far, the plan had gone smoothly. That made him nervous.
Nothing was ever this simple.
After a quick ride in a very cramped space, Anna felt the van settle to a stop. The side door slid open, giving her a view of a huge parking lot beneath the glare of fluorescent lights in the concrete ceiling.
To her surprise, there were still about a dozen cars parked between here and the back wall, staggered at uneven intervals. It seemed the janitorial and security staff liked to shield their vehicles from the elements.
She hopped out.
Jack followed her, trailed by a line of half a dozen men and women in black tactical gear, all wearing helmets with visors pulled down. They were quick to form a perimeter, the ones in front dropping to one knee and swinging their rifles back and forth to identify any potential targets.
Anna pinched her chin in one hand, closing her eyes tight. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Does this seem a little too easy?” she asked in a quiet voice. “After my last visit, I'd have expected more security.”
Jack was frowning into the distance, blinking as he considered the question. “Right there with you, An,” he said, nodding. “I've had a strange sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach ever since we jumped the fence.”
Anna felt her lip quiver, then turned her face away so that he wouldn't see her anxiety. “Maybe we're just being paranoid,” she muttered. “A good habit so long as it doesn't get in the way of your job.”
There was a gap of perhaps ten feet between the side of the van and two cars that were parked nose to nose, a gap that was very quickly filling up with warm bodies. Anna had a very uneasy feeling.
In the corner where the back wall intersected with the one to her right, a door led into a stairwell. That was to be their point of entry. If this mission went as planned, they would descend the steps to the basement and navigate a series of corridors until they reached the room where Pennfield kept his storage crates. From what she had been told, most of those contained parts for jet engines.
Aamani Patel came striding through the gap between the van and the nearest car. Like the others, she wore black pants and an armoured vest, but her face was uncovered. Anna understood that. Morale went up when soldiers saw their captain's face. “So far, so good,” she said, approaching them. “We should get a move on.”
“This is too easy.”
Patel lifted her chin and studied Anna. She narrowed her eyes, no doubt wondering if everything was on the up and up. “It's too late to back out now, Anna,” she said. “And we're well-armed. There's little that Pennfield can do to stop us.”
Anna frowned, then lowered her eyes to the floor. She felt her eyebrows climb up and up. “If you insist,” she muttered. “But I've learned the hard way not to underestimate that man.”
Her multi-tool began to beep.
“Something's wrong,” Anna barked, checking the display screen on her gauntlet. “The Gate just started broadcasting its location into SlipSpace. Anyone within a dozen light-years will know it's here.”
Patel's face crumpled as though someone had just kicked her in the stomach. “We need to move quickly then,” she said, turning and making her way toward her tactical officers. “Head for the stairwell.”
Men and women in tactical gear sprang into action, hoisting up rifles and filing out of the space between the van and the two cars. They turned left, toward the back wall, heading for the stairwell door.
Anna hesitated, placing a hand on Jack's arm to prevent him from following. Why would Pennfield activate the SlipGate? Why would he broadcast their location? Earth's solar system was smack dab in the middle of Dead Space. There would be no one within a dozen light-years to receive that broadcast. Activating the Gate would serve no purpose unless…unless Pennfield knew perfectly well that alien ships were in the area.
“Pull back!” she bellowed.
Three men who brought up the rear of the group suddenly turned around…then froze. In a heartbeat, they brought up rifles to point at something on the other side of the van. “Hold!” one shouted.
“Am I interrupting?” someone called out.
That voice…it had come from the other side of the van, somewhere between here and the entrance to the parking garage. Anna would know those harsh, grating inflections anywhere. That was the voice of the man who had shot her.
“Vincent…” she whispered.
Jack looked up, his face suddenly pale. “Vincent?” he said, deep creases forming in his brow. “That guy is here?”
Now halfway to the stairwell door, the tactical officers halted and spun around to face the newcomer. The front rank dropped to one knee, lifting rifles to point at Vincent while those behind aimed over their heads.
They formed a firing squad in the roadway between two lines of parking spaces. A few cars on their left and their right would prov
ide a safe haven, but every one of those officers had a sprint of at least five paces between himself and cover.
“Now, now,” Vincent said. “Let's not be rash.”
“Bleakness, take me!” Anna growled. With the van in the way, she couldn't use her Nassai's talents to see what was happening. That left her with only one option. Motioning Jack to follow, she crept forward, past the driver's seat. She saw a man through the small window sitting with his hands clenched on the steering wheel.
When she peered around the corner, she saw Vincent standing with his back to the open garage door, flanked by a pair of metal soldiers that stood head and shoulders taller than him.
Battle drones.
Both robots waited with arms at their sides, camera lenses pointed toward the group of TAC officers. Their sleek metallic exoskeletons reflected the light from the fluorescent bulbs overhead.
Dressed in black pants and a vest of his own, Vincent stood with his arms crossed, the ski mask pulled tight over his face. “So glad you could join me,” he said. “Put down your weapons, and I promise you a swift and painless death.”
Patel was crouched at the end of the front rank with a sub-machine gun in hand, her face grim. “At my count,” she said, nodding. “There are three of you and over a dozen of us. Stand down.”
“Shut up, Patel!” Anna shouted.
“Would that be Miss Lenai's voice?” Vincent asked, shaking his head. He let out a soft, satisfied chuckle. “You should listen to her, Director Patel. You have no idea what you're up against.”
Pressing her lips together, Aamani Patel squinted at the man. Even from here, Anna could see sweat on her skin. “Would you be one of Mr. Pennfield's employees?” she said in soft tones. “Consider yourself under arrest.”
“Magak,” Vincent ordered in Raen.
At his command, both drones started forward, moving past Vincent, then coming together to shield him from oncoming gunfire. They continued on their inexorable march forward, feet clanking on the concrete.
“Get to cover!” Anna screamed.
The TAC officers ignored her.
Assault rifles flashed while the harsh growl of automatic weapons' fire filled the air. It did no good. Screens of white static appeared before both drones, intercepting every bullet and sending slugs dropping to the floor.
The force-fields vanished.
A few bullets sparked against the robots' chest plates, but did nothing to slow their advance. In unison, both drones lifted their right arms and took aim at people along the front rank.
One man spasmed as blood fountained from his neck, falling forward to land facedown atop his rifle. Other officers followed, all tumbling to the floor after a quick shot to the throat.
The people in second rank started backing away, keeping their rifles up to loose a barrage of bullets at their attackers. Idiots! Apparently, they still didn't comprehend the futility of doing so.
The drones halted side by side, erecting force-fields to shield themselves from the incoming fire. Enough physical damage to their bodies would eventually cause them to shut down, but unlike organic soldiers, their bodies were powered by several high-yield fuel cells. They could recharge their force-field generators in seconds.
While the drones took shelter behind their kinetic barriers, the TAC officers were offered a brief reprieve. Force-fields were essentially walls of electromagnetic energy. Nothing could get in, but nothing could escape.
Of course, they could…
The force-fields sped forward side by side: two screens flew down the roadway and slammed into the tactical officers with the momentum of a pick-up truck. Men and women were tossed about like leaves in the wind.
Lifting her pistol up in front of her face, Anna squinted at the weapon. “EMP!” she said, nodding once.
The three LEDs on the barrel's surface turned white. Now all she had to do was get a clear shot before one of those robots put a slug in her head. A time bubble might protect her from a single drone, but she needed something to distract the other.
Patel had taken refuge behind a cute little green car with the Earth letters V and W on its hood. “Aamani!” Anna called out, silently cheering when the other woman turned her head. “Have your people fire on the one on the left!”
Patel nodded.
Three TAC officers were crouched behind a black sports car not far from Patel. They nodded as well. “On three!” one said. “One! Two! Three!” They aimed rifles over the hood of the sports car and fired.
The drone on the left suddenly staggered as bullets pounded its body. Halting its advance, it raised a buzzing force-field to intercept the slugs. Now was her chance. Have to make this count.
Anna spun around the hood of the van.
She raised the pistol and fired. Blue tracers sped toward the other drone, which paused just in time to erect a force-field. The screen of static flickered, disrupted by the EMP rounds, and bullets slammed into the robot's chest.
The residual charge that each slug carried shorted the drone's circuitry. Stumbling like a drunken man, it raised both arms to steady itself. “Threat level reassessed,” it said in Raen. “Recalibrating targeting parameters.”
Anna ducked behind the van.
Jack stared at her with an open mouth, then quickly gave his head a shake. “What now?” he asked. “I don't suppose you have one of those fancy guns for me, huh?”
“The one I shot is coming after me now,” she told him. “These things do not stop until they have eradicated all targets. But I think I can handle one. You'll have to help the others.”
“How?”
“Improvise.”
Anna got up, pressing her back to the van, sweat drenching her hair. “You can do it, Jack,” she said, screwing up her courage. “Remember, no matter what happens, I believe in you.”
Anna charged forward, toward the pair of parked cars. With a thought, she put up a small Bending behind herself. Sure enough, bullets struck the patch of curved space-time, turned and went off toward the wall.
She leaped.
Anna somersaulted over the parked car, then fell to the floor behind it, crouching down. Releasing her Bending, she tried to ignore the tingling in her skin. The loud pings of bullets striking the car's body made her flinch.
Gritting her teeth, Anna winced and felt tears slide over her face. “Don't give up on me now, my friend,” she whispered. “They're counting on us. We just have to hold out a little longer.”
Not far ahead, a black pick-up truck took up most of the space between two yellow lines. After that, it was a short run to the concrete pillars near the back of the room. There were two: one on this side of the lot and one on the other.
Anna ran.
She leaped and twisted in mid-air, landing hard on her side in the bed of the pick-up truck. Seconds later, bullets whizzed through the space above her. Luckily, that other car had prevented the drone from getting a clear shot.
Bending gravity – reversing its pull – Anna lifted herself into the air and then threw herself over the side of the truck. She landed on all fours. This time, the tingling became sharp little stabs of anguish.
Staying low, she started forward.
Spatial awareness told her that the truck would provide cover until just before she rounded the pillar. At the very last second, she threw up a Bending – the pain worsened – and heaved a sigh of relief when bullets curved away from her body.
She slipped around the pillar.
Pressing her back to its surface, Anna shut her eyes. She took a deep breath through her nose. Rest now, she thought. If you keep using your abilities, you're going to pass out from the strain.
No time to rest.
Tiny vibrations surged through the concrete as the drone began shooting the other side of the pillar. If nothing else, the damn thing might just decide to spend the next ten minutes chipping away at her only source of cover.
With any luck, the thing had ignored Jack. Trapped as he was between parked cars, the drone cou
ld have gunned him down in seconds as it passed, but Anna was its primary target now. Battle drones tended to prioritize targets by threat level. He's a clever man, Anna told herself. He'll adapt.
But what was she to do?
Jena didn't know why she insisted on remaining on the bridge; she was useless up here. Perhaps it was just a deeply rooted belief that sitting in the Mess Hall and reading her novel would not count as doing her job.
About ten feet in front of her, the back of the captain's chair blocked her view of the large display screen at the front of the room. A young man was seated at the station on her left and a woman at the one to her right, both hunched over so that she could only see the backs of their heads. Lorans and Helani, respectively. She had made it a point to learn their names.
Jena frowned into her lap, closing her eyes tight. She heaved out a deep breath. It won't be much longer now, she told herself. We've checked almost every system on our list. Either we find Lenai, or-
“Captain,” Lorans said. “I've found something.”
The chair swivelled toward him.
Spinning around to face his commanding officer, the young man wore a puzzled look on his face. “It's the distress beacon, ma'am,” he mumbled. “Someone's reactivated it.”
Jena stood.
“Point of origin?” Taborn asked, turning so that she faced forward once again. It irked Jena that she could not see the other woman's expression. Even a Nassai could not help with that.
Lorans turned back to his console, hands dancing across the touch-screen interface, sliding application windows over the desktop. “A main sequence star roughly two-point-three light years from here,” he said. “We can be there in about half an hour.”
“Set a course,” Taborn ordered.
Finally, Jena thought. Some answers.
Chapter 28
The instant Anna took off, Jack slipped into the narrow space between the van and the concrete wall. That hulking monstrosity would be passing soon, and he wasn't about to let himself be caught with his pants down.