Gruefield 18 (Tarnished Sterling Omnibus)

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Gruefield 18 (Tarnished Sterling Omnibus) Page 120

by Robert McCarroll


  “I know one that would take twenty minutes to point to Rockstead,” she said. “Nothing more granular than that I’m afraid.”

  “That wouldn’t happen to be the same one Tekton knows, would it?” I asked.

  “I think it might be.” We trudged along through the halls of the subbasement, peering into dark corners and whatever niches presented themselves. We continued to turn up no sign of Victor’s passing.

  “Guys,” Donny said. “I just had an awful thought.”

  “What is it?” I asked, looking in the gap between a pair of fuel tanks.

  “Suppose whoever disconnected the recording feed wasn’t sloppy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Suppose he got to wherever Victor was planning on going, then kept laying down a trail of dead cameras to someplace well away from it.”

  “Are you saying Victor got off the recording-free route before he got to the subbasement?” Jennifer asked.

  “It’s entirely possible,” Donny said. “And it would have us wasting our time looking around somewhere he isn’t.”

  “If we say he could have left the route at any point, that would leave, oh, three floors of the prison to search,” I said. “Including the subbasement.”

  “I’m just saying-”

  “I get what you’re saying, but we’d still have to look down here anyway. Unless we have some inkling of his objective.”

  “You sound cranky,” Jennifer said. “Perhaps you should have visited the snack table before we left.”

  I let out a dry chuckle. “I’m sorry.”

  “If his goal were simply to escape, moving deeper into the prison seems counterintuitive,” Ixa said. “We already know he’s working in concert with others, so this has to be a slice of a bigger plan.”

  “And if he were working alone, he would definitely have spared the time to have a fight with us in the infirmary,” I said. “Just from his personality and how much of an irritant we’ve been to him.”

  “So we’re back to what Victor actually wants,” Jennifer said.

  My mind went back to Victor’s reaction when I brought Doctor Omicron to the infirmary. “He wants to impress Doctor Omicron,” I said.

  “What?”

  “He’s a genetically engineered creature who calls the man ‘Father’. He built the imager because it was a project Omicron was never able to get to work. Then there was his reaction when Omicron came in to consult on the treatment.”

  “All I ever saw from him in the infirmary was hatred,” Ixa said.

  “But that fits,” I said.

  “It also fits with having put him here,” she said.

  “Since it’s a line of inquiry worth thinking about,” Donny said. “What would impress Omicron?”

  “Intellect,” I said. “He has to prove he’s as cunning and clever as his creator.”

  “Great,” Donny said. “And here we are, running around in the dark.” Just as he finished his sentence, the lights cut out. “I didn’t mean it literally!” The small pool of light spilling from the screen of my wrist computer was our only source of light until Jennifer sparked up a small construct and hovered it by her shoulder.

  “Shouldn’t there be emergency lights?” I asked.

  “On the upper levels,” Smeets said. “The work order to put them back in down here is bogged down on background checks for the contractors.” He clicked on his own flashlight.

  The darkness hid the sheepish expression that crossed my face. “The abatement company went through the same checks, didn’t they?”

  “Of course. Everyone who works here goes through the ringer,” Smeets said. With a heavy clunk, the backup generators kicked in. The lights didn’t come back on.

  “I’m guessing these lights are not high priority facilities,” I said.

  “Cameras, monitors, security locks, exterior floods,” Smeets said. “Anywhere there’s supposed to be emergency lights, the lighting is not on the backup circuits.” He rapped a fuel tank next to me. “We only have so much reserve.”

  “We had fifteen seconds between when power went out and the backups kicked in,” Donny said. “What could be done in that window?”

  “Default on most systems is fail secure,” Smeets said. “This is a prison after all.”

  “Most?”

  “The kitchen appliances fail safe, crap like that.”

  “Can I borrow your radio?”

  Smeets shrugged and passed me his handset.

  “Warden, quick question,” I said.

  “What is it?” Ellison’s tone was terse, but I couldn’t blame him.

  “Is there anything big that isn’t powered on emergency backup?”

  “Our larger blast doors have to be manually cranked because their motors have too much draw.”

  “Like the doors to the vehicle bay where the exosuits are stored?”

  “Yes.”

  “What’s that do to your response time?”

  “Depends on the type of incident and how many we’re up against. But most of the inmates are locked away in... their... cells.”

  “Warden?”

  “We’re short a demi-dragon. Martin Rusnak is no longer in his cell.”

  “I’m going to guess he disappeared in the fifteen seconds between power loss and the backups bringing the cameras back online.”

  “I’m checking for sign of where he went. If he was in view of any of our cameras when they came back up, we’ll find him.”

  “Where’s his cell located?”

  “Second floor, north block, tower three.”

  I flipped through the printout I had and located it. “We’re almost under tower three, we’re going to come up and help search for him. He’s got a fresher trail than Victor at this point. He might lead us to him.”

  “Copy.” I handed the radio back to Smeets.

  “I told you there was going to be a prison break,” Donny said.

  “You said the spirits were going to enact a prison break. Right now, there’s no evidence linking the two.”

  “You just don’t want to pay me my ten bucks.”

  “If and when I actually lose the bet, I’ll pay up.”

  Seeing me still fumbling about with my map, Smeets pointed with his light. “Tower three access is that way.” We headed off in the direction indicated and came to a locked door. Smeets set about unlocking it. We ascended the staircase beyond and came to another security gate. This one was guarded, and we presented our documentation before they let us keep climbing the stairs. We repeated the process on the ground floor, and when we exited on the second. Pools of illumination spilling from emergency lights dotted the corridor beyond another security gate.

  “You know,” one of the guards said, “Most of the guys through there haven’t seen a woman in years. And they weren’t exactly models of decorum beforehand.”

  “We can manage,” Jennifer said. With a dismissive shrug, the guard opened the entrance to the cell block. They also provided a larger escort than just Smeets as we moved down the row. We came to a cell without an occupant. It was locked. Laying discarded on the floor was a set of three iron rings linked by chains and connected to a longer leather strap.

  “What’s that?” I asked, kneeling down beside it.

  “A prisoner mantle,” Smeets said. “Its what removes their powers.”

  “So why don’t we have them elsewhere?” I asked.

  “They won’t even work past the perimeter fence of Rockstead,” Smeets said.

  “Why not?”

  Smeets just shrugged.

  “I have a theory on that,” Ixa said. “But the cell block is not the place to voice it.”

  “If both ends of the block are guarded,” Donny said. “W
here would he exit through?” My eye went to a wet spot on the floor and a groan escaped my lips.

  “The sewer,” I said, moving to the toilet. The steel fixture wobbled at a light touch. The whole toilet moved with little effort, exposing a hole in the floor where a drain should be.

  “He didn’t dig that in fifteen seconds,” Jennifer said.

  “I’m not sure he dug it at all.” I wriggled into the hole, squishing my shoulders in to fit. My head emerged into a gap between the walls. There was barely enough ambient light for my eye to show the bare concrete and the snaking pipes and conduits running up the narrow space. I keyed my earpiece. “Would someone kindly ask the warden the purpose of the space between the walls?”

  “We could just add him to our channel,” Donny said.

  “Please save the argument for when I’m not halfway into the architecture.”

  There was a pause. “Warden is on the line,” Donny said.

  “We found Rusnak’s exit from his cell,” I said. “I’m halfway into a gap between walls here.”

  “That’s a structural joint. Rockstead was built modularly for ease of repair in case of serious damage. The joint channels don’t run all the way.”

  “So, do we think he went up or down?” Donny asked. I looked around a bit more.

  “I only see scuffs in the dust down from here,” I said.

  “Do we want to follow?” Ixa asked.

  “I don’t think we have much of a choice, we are trying to pick up their trail.” I wriggled the rest of the way into the joint channel, angling myself so I returned to a generally upright posture. The gap between the walls was not much wider than the hole I’d crawled through to get here. “I’m in the gap, and headed down.” Free-handing the gap turned out to be more a case of controlling my slide, as there was little in the way of safe handholds. I stopped when my feet hit a concrete ledge. A clawed-out hole slightly larger than the one from the cell marked the only point of exit. I reported this before sliding through.

  “I have landed in... the prison laundry,” I said, looking at the rows of trolleys and washing machines. The entrance was tucked behind a machine that was pulled forward just enough to be wriggled past. Given that I couldn’t budge it at all to widen the gap, I guessed it might have weighed half a ton.

  “You know, the last time you took me to one of these places, I said I would never do it again,” Ixa said. A moment later, she emerged from the hole in the wall.

  “It’s not that bad,” Donny said. “I mean, it could have actually been a sewer.” He emerged next. A golden glow from the hole in the wall told Jennifer’s chosen method of decent, but she still had to worm her way out.

  “This is the second dirty little hole I’ve followed you down- In pursuit of the same dragon, I might add.”

  “You went before me last time,” I said, moving to the door, eyes darting around for signs that Rusnak took a different route. The fact that the door was ajar led me to believe he’d gone that way.

  “The banter’s nice, but could you at least pretend to be professionals?” Warden Ellison asked. “I’ll let the guards on the basement level know you’re wandering around down there.”

  I unfolded the sheaf of papers to try to find out what was nearby. The one thing that stood out was a door with nothing behind it. It lined up with the central tower of the prison. Confused, I flipped to the other pages. None of them showed anything in the central tower. Searching out the actual door, I found it to be a heavy blast door like those in the vehicle hanger.

  The door had been cranked open.

  “Warden, what is in the central tower?” I asked.

  “Tower Seven contains the central component of the prisoner restraint mantle system.”

  “The accessway is open, and our fugitives may have entered there.”

  “If you go in there, don’t misinterpret what you see,” Ellison said.

  Part 12

  The passage to Tower Seven was dingy white with a mint green span up to waist height, and a similarly-colored stripe a few inches above that. It looked like it hadn’t been repainted since the seventies. We proceeded along the passage with Warden Ellison’s cryptic comment rattling around my brain. There were no emergency lights, but a red glow leaked through the open door at the far end. The glow came from a shimmering pillar of energy that linked a stout dais with the armor plated mass hanging from the ceiling. Nesting among a tangled array of pipes and cabling that obscured the ceiling proper was a truncated technological pillar. What few glimpses of its inner workings I had boggled the mind. Six massive slabs of steel ringed it and clutched the column of light. Carved deeply into each slab was a rune-steeped circle.

  On the dais, just inside the column of crimson light, were six figures kneeling in supplication at key points along the edge of another circle. They were frozen in place, unmoving, their eyes locked upon the figure hovering halfway up the column. It bobbed slowly, the ripples carrying along its long red hair as if suspended in water. Crimson feathered wings growing from its back wrapped around the figure, almost cocooning it in plumage. All I could see were the pale forehead, the hair, and plain boots.

  “The calculus for this rematch doesn’t turn out in your favor,” Victor said, his voice echoing through the massive chamber.

  “Really?” I said with all the derision I could muster. “You’re still trapped within this prison, and this place is swarming with Fund members.” I looked around to see if there was any sign of where he was. There were several levels of catwalks ringing the chamber, and that was before the possibility of him hanging within the nest of cabling was taken into account. I didn’t see him.

  “Strategically, my path is delicate, but tactically, your situation is hopeless.”

  Inspiration hit me as I thought back to our previous run-in with Victor. He’d called himself Elemental Fire. I switched my eye to thermal. Even amidst the still-warm walls of the chamber, he stood out like a blazing sun. I pointed, and elicited a snarl from Victor.

  “This time, I’m going to handle the important part personally.” He surged from his perch. His prison orange was tucked into its own waistband to keep the garment out of the way of his freshly-sprouted wings. Victor slammed into a wall of golden light like a bird into a window. The wall cracked on impact, and his outstretched arm punched through, but his claws fell short of his intended target. Ixa stepped back away as Jennifer reinforced the construct and bracketed the dragon.

  “For a genius, you’re pretty dumb,” Jennifer said.

  With a roar of rage and a pulse of energy, Victor shattered the construct holding him and dropped to the floor. “Rusnak, get in to the fight, take care of-” I cut off Victor’s command with a force bubble to the face. Okay, it was more of a force bubble to the entire upper torso, but it slammed him back and knocked him on his ass. Rusnak ran out of hiding behind us, only to take a construct to the gut. It was a copy of Jennifer herself, doing a flying kick. I could tell she was unconcerned, she only got artistic when there wasn’t a sense of great urgency. The more panicked or lazy she was, the simpler the geometry became. Ixa didn’t waste any time and began gathering energy about herself. It manifested as swirling symbols of white light.

  In the corner of my eye, I saw Donny run to a ladder going up to the catwalks. Before I could ask what he was up to, Victor was back on his feet.

  “How many times do you think the same tricks are going to work?” Victor asked.

  “You want something new?” Before he could answer or attacked, I wrapped myself in shadow and surged forward.

  “What the-” was all Victor got out before I collided with him and we plowed into the concrete wall. He grabbed me by the face and flipped me into the ground effortlessly. He stomped down on my throat. “How’d you hit me into the wall if you’re still weak?” I elicited a yelp as my claws drew blood from the me
at of his calf. He took his foot from my throat and stumbled back.

  “It’s called momentum,” I said, standing up.

  For the first time, I saw a nervous expression cross Victor’s face. Usually, it was covered with arrogance or rage. His eyes darted about. Jennifer was preoccupied with Rusnak, but I was fairly sure she’d beaten him before. Behind me, Ixa was building up the power needed to trap him, but I was in the way. And I was no longer a known factor.

  “Warden,” Donny’s voice called over the radio, “I think I’ve found our turncoat.” The sight of him plunging from one catwalk to the next drew my attention away from Victor. Donny landed with a clang. Victor seized the opening to jab a fist into my throat and rush past. A golden brick caught the side of his head and sent him sprawling. The small construct then looped around to smash against Rusnak’s jaw.

  “Well?” the Warden’s voice asked.

  Donny coughed. “According to the badge I snagged, her name is Helen Dietrich. She’s trying to do something to this giant device.”

  “The Assistant Warden?” Ellison’s confusion was audible. “Stop her, everything in Tower Seven is part of the prisoner restraint system.”

  Leafy vines of white light erupted from the floor and wrapped themselves around Rusnak, drawing a yelp of surprise.

  “Seems like a poor choice of targets,” Victor said, standing.

  “Really? It frees me up,” Jennifer said, a battering ram of golden light plowing Victor from his feet again. Victor rolled along the floor, his wings slapping the concrete with each rotation. He came to a stop with a snarl upon his lips.

  “We’ve got Victor, go help the Baron.” Ixa said. I gave a nod and launched myself to the catwalk where Donny was righting himself. He pointed at a higher level. There, a woman in a gray suit stood by a control panel of some kind. Her raven hair was in a long braid that reached the small of her back. The controls in front of her looked like relics of the space age. Banks of analogue gauges and knobs with molly-guarded toggles and buttons. They probably dated from when the prison was built, or last re-built. I landed on the catwalk behind her, making no effort to hide my arrival. Dietrich glanced over her shoulder. She had alabaster skin, sharp features, and blood red lipstick. The look that came to her eye and the smile that curled the corner of her mouth skeeved me out.

 

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