With their attention elsewhere, Alixs figured this was his best chance. He waited a minute. Then another. He steeled himself to go in. Taking a deep breath, he swung back into position just below the opening, then dropped his weight and pushed off hard with all four limbs, scrambling up and into the hallway as quickly as he could manage. He raced for Jem’s motionless body, hit the deck hard, and made to pry the disc out of his fallen leader’s hand. He dared not look up. The sight of guns would probably have shocked him into immobility. Instead he focused on his sense of touch, his blurred vision less than helpful.
He pulled the disc out, his other limb ready to snap the thing in half if he had to — lest it fall into enemy hands — when suddenly, something stopped him cold. Have I gone deaf? he thought, reacting to the fact that in all this time, he had heard nothing at all. Complete silence. He forced himself to blink, clearing his vision enough to look up. He was alone.
CHIEF CAIN, UNWILLING to trust his forces now that they’d made a mess of things, led the charge. He directed the unit down the main stairwell and into the basement, aiming to catch the infiltrators on their way out. He ordered half the unit to keep watch on the entrances, and took the other half with him to the entrance of the emergency shaft. They would either cut them off, or trap them on the upper floors.
“When we get there,” barked the chief, “hold for my signal. I don’t want any more mistakes, so we’re going in slow and strong, and we’re not launching fire.” He didn’t bother asking if they understood. They would simply pay the price if they didn’t, and any who didn’t know it deserved what they got.
Pulling up to the entrance, the chief put himself between his unit and the doors, making sure none of them would enter prematurely. He swept the entryway, checking that none of the infiltrators was waiting inside, then he instructed the second in command to enter first and demand a surrender. Then he hand picked four of his best marksmen, ones who’d been in these situations before and were less likely to pull their trigger without cause, and sent them into the shaft.
29.
Alixs forced himself to his feet and stumbled away from his fallen friend. Squinting through the smokey hallway, he tried to make out any shadows or hints of lurking peace forcers, but saw none. The noise of authorities on the move seemed to drift in and out still, though he couldn’t tell if it was real. It seemed to echo off the ceilings or the walls, growing quickly fainter, until he couldn’t hear anything at all. The place was eerily silent, like before. He thought to call down the shaft, tell them he was alright, but at the same time he had a sudden vision of entering the broadcast booth. There’s no time to recall the others, he thought. He had to do this himself.
Trying to hurry, but coping with shock-frozen limbs that moved only with a supreme effort, he trot-lumbered down the hallway, heading for the mission objective. He was familiar with his surroundings, despite the haze from the firefight. They’d all studied the schematics and images of the building from top to bottom—especially this floor. He knew just where he was, what was immediately above and below him, and where the escape routes were. That would be necessary soon, but for now he couldn’t worry about it. He found the proper door, reached for it, and twisted hard. Locked.
THE FREEVOS HAD MANAGED to get to a mid-point landing within the shaft before the ‘forcers poured in from below, laser sights casting eerie red points over the rounded walls. One of them shouted up at the freevos. ‘Give up before anyone else gets hurt!’ and, ‘There’s no place to run, don’t be stupid!’.
The freevos scrambled into the hatchway leading to a lower floor, where they would have a few minutes lead on their pursuers. But it was true, there was no where for them to go now. As they poured out of the escape shaft, office workers and building staffers were dashing here and there around them. Someone must have sounded the alarm after shots were fired, although there was no organized evacuation going on. They had no way of knowing that the ‘forcers had shut off the building security system, so as not to spook their prey. But at this point it hardly mattered, a panic was unfolding by word-of-mouth. This might just work in the freevos’ favor.
ALIXS RETURNED TO JEM’S body, hoping against the odds that his leader had brought a key. How else had they been planning to get inside? He frisked the corpse, from top to bottom, beginning to feel like he was desecrating the remains. He dismissed the notion, knowing full well that Jem would have approved of any means necessary to complete the mission.
There was no key. Alixs did find a folded-up note in one pocket, and he realized how much he was shaking as he unfolded it, hearing the sha-sha-krink of the paper under his twitching digits. On it were mission notes, hastily scribbled, as though he’d been jotting down last minute instructions. There was a schematic of the escape hatch and another of the floor he was on, and several numbers that might have been a code, or perhaps an address, or a phone extension. There was also a large red ‘x’ over one of the rooms on the floor, the one at the far end of the hall. Why didn’t we know about this? Alixs wondered, wracking his mind to come up with anything from the prep sessions that might be relevant. But they hadn’t discussed any other rooms, at least not with him. Then again, he was probably the last person they’d expected to be heavily involved at this stage.
About to go back and look at whatever it was in that room that was important enough to mark off, it occurred to him that he was still unarmed, and he really shouldn’t be. With no further concerns about desecrating Jem’s body, he patted around once more, this time in search of something bigger, and more useful. If he couldn’t get the lock open, perhaps he could shoot the door. It worked in the movies, after all, though he had little expectation of it working for him now. He detected a heavy lump on the underside of Jem’s jacket, and with some effort, he was able to detach the weapon from its holster and pull it free. He fumbled with it for a minute, reacting with a cold dread to the fact that it was, indeed, appropriate for use against xenos. He wrapped his digits around it until it felt comfortable. Only then did he notice that he’d stopped shaking. Slipping the pistol into his own jacket pocket, he started back down the hall.
Trying the rest of the doors as he went, all of them were locked until he got to the far end. The marked door turned out to be little more than a broom closet. Fumbling for the light switch, which wasn’t in an obvious place so it took him a few seconds, he found it and ignited a dim bulb. It shed an eerily yellow pallor over the damp room.
The contents of the room consisted of aging shelves and cleaning supplies, along with a spare custodial uniform slung over a nail on the wall. How could this room be useful? Was he supposed to clean his way in?
Then he saw it. A red panel on the wall. Master switches, Alixs thought, now realizing why the room had been included in the plan. He ran a digit over the display, trying to figure out which door was his, but they were all jumbled up, so he hit all of them. From out in the hallway he heard a satisfying chuck chuck chuck as the doors unlatched themselves one by one under his command. Stripping off his jacket and clothes, he transferred the schematic, the disc, and the pistol into pockets of the uniform as he put it on. It was a little loose around the middle, but otherwise it fit well enough. He reached for one of the dirty caps that had been casually tossed up on the shelf, pulling the brim low over his eyes as he walked out of the closet and down to the studio door.
The booth was a typical radio setup he’d seen a million times on television. An anteroom, a soundproof booth for interviews, and a controller’s station on the far side, which he headed straight for. The controls were familiar from the mission planning sessions. Even though he’d only been intended as a lookout, all of them had learned what to do with that disc. Too bad they didn’t fill us all in on the janitor’s closet. That would’ve spared him a great deal of trouble.
Alixs powered the system up, shoved the disc into the works, and the automated system did the rest. He sat back, enjoying the sounds of victory as the voice of the rebellion made its way out to the
population. They were broadcasting video as well as audio. Anyone with the proper equipment would see it all, but they made sure even the audio version would tell the tale. By tomorrow, this would be mirrored all over the world. Mission: Airplay was a success.
30.
It took them an hour to round up the last of the infiltrators, but thankfully there were no more firefights. Once they knew they were done for, they came quietly, with smiles on their faces. With their own devices from which to monitor events, they knew the damage was done.
“You’re telling me that while you were busy trying to catch them,”—the first administrator looked as if he might explode, gesturing wildly with his limbs—“this bunch of amateur rabble-rousers managed to sneak past you, and all your men, and put that bloody broadcast out right under your nose?”
The chief felt his own pressure rise, but now was not the time for a confrontation. He screwed up, there was no excuse for it. He waited for the first administrator to finish, so he could get back to the business at hand. He simply nodded, took the abuse, and once the administrator had run himself out, promised to get to the bottom of it. Killing the connection, the chief sighed a dangerously loud sigh and looked up, causing the men in his vicinity to cringe.
“Find me the one who did it,” he said. Plain and simple. He even managed to keep his voice steady, an impressive display of control. The officers snapped to attention and dashed out of the room, relieved that he’d not terminated them on the spot.
AS SOON AS THE BROADCAST was finished, Alixs had fled the broadcast studio and quickly took the stairwell down several levels, bursting out onto a still-occupied floor that was utter mayhem. People were running here and there, some carrying computers or files. He paid them no mind, making for the same location where X had marked the spot up above. Sure enough he found a duplicate broom closet, unlocked, and he flung open the door and came face to face with several janitors. He froze. Then one of them approached him with a smile, saying something he couldn’t quite make out in his shocked condition.
“Sorry?”
Taken aback, his eyes darted around the strangely familiar surroundings. The place looked exactly like the one where he’d stolen the uniform, except for the fact that this one was occupied.
“It’s okay, we didn’t want to bother either. It’s the same every time. Come in! Hurry!”
Bemused, Alixs allowed himself to be led inside the closet by one of the others, while the first one closed the door behind him.
THE PEACE FORCE EMPLOYED thoroughly professional interrogation methods, always within the boundaries of the law, but still harsh enough to rattle all but the most hardened criminals. Mostly young, philosophical types, unaccustomed to real world coercion, the freevos should have made easy subjects. But they turned out to be surprisingly well-prepared. Aside from a few slips, they didn’t reveal much, carefully forgetting the names of their co-conspirators and all essential plans. None of them gave up the one who pulled it off, either, even though they all had to know who it was.
The chief was beyond rage as the reports streamed in. Each conspirator either too stupid to know what was good for them, or else more thoroughly brainwashed than he’d imagined. He had expected to have a name for the first administrator by now. A single face to plaster all over the news, a lone malcontent perpetrating a hoax, an anti-social deviant, unworthy of further consideration.
Without a target to vilify, the counter-strike would lack teeth—the notion of some anonymous group being behind the stunt would be more difficult to dismiss. He sent his interrogators back in for another round, hoping the first administrator’s office wouldn’t try to reach him just yet. He needed time to get that name.
“YOU NEW AROUND HERE?” The janitor’s tone had been congenial, welcoming even, but Alixs regretted the fact that the conversation had turned to him. Blending in quietly was his best hope.
“Yes,” was all Alixs could come up with. This was a surreal moment in time. Who were these people, and why weren’t they calling him out? Or calling the cops?
The talker, and most of the others, were human. The two xenos were clearly old models, the only types who would take on menial labor. Why on earth would they assume he would do so?
“You come over from quickstaff, did ya?”
He had no idea what quickstaff was, but he drew a quick conclusion and nodded.
“Yup. I knew you weren’t a new hire here, or else we’d have heard about ya.”
Alixs wondered how much longer this odd conversation might continue, but suddenly he realized the noise from outside the closet door had subsided considerably. One of the other janitors cracked it open and peeked out, shutting it quickly and turning to the others.
“Must’ve sounded the all-clear,” he said, “they’re comin’ back in now.”
“Better wait a few more,” the first janitor said, “can’t have ‘em see us sneak out of here, can we?” They all laughed, as though this was a hilarious practical joke of some sort, which Alixs realized it very well might be. The all-clear? How long had he been in here?
31.
Jem’s body was taken out of the building right in front of Alixs. Keeping his head low and pretending to sweep up, he felt a sting as the gurney rolled by, with only a white sheet to shield Jem from the gawkers. A pack of ‘forcers followed him out, and Alixs managed to catch a snippet of their conversation.
‘arrest count, got all of ‘em and we’ll be rolling...’
‘further interrogation once we get...’
They were in no particular hurry, and the chatter was casual enough to make Alixs think they were wrapping up. But surely there would be further inquiries. This building was no place to hang around in. He had to get out, get back to his people and find out if everyone else was okay.
He swept his way down, floor by floor, until he hit ground level. Then over to one of the side entrances. He swept around the door for good measure, made sure none were watching, set his broom down to one side, and walked out.
THE DETECTIVES NEVER did put together a proper count of the suspects. The fact that one of them was dead threw off the estimate, not to mention the haze of the chase. The question of who had broken off from the main group, and when, was still up in the air. The assumption was that several of them had gone back up in the confusion, setting the broadcast in motion before rejoining the main group.
Among the remaining freevos though, it was a different story — word of Alixs and his heroic actions spread quickly. A covert message was sent from the booking station: Alixs is on the run, possibly injured, will need help when he resurfaces. Be on watch. There was some concern that he may have been killed, but the talk around Peace H.Q. said otherwise. The official casualty count stood at one, the leader, Jem.
Liam was relieved to hear that his protege was still alive. He had taken the setback harder than anyone. The fact that they’d walked into an ambush ate at him, as he was in charge of the logistics and should have known. Or at least, he should have suspected as much, and planned better for it, although he had no idea how he might have done such a thing.
He sent word to the freevos and their allies, both in-town and living in clusters around the country: Stay quiet, and prepare for new orders. Now that they’d informed the public of what was really going on, they could expect to garner a great deal more sympathy. Hopefully their ranks would swell as a result. At the very least, the conversation had been kick started; the automatic negative reaction to their efforts should be tempered by arguments in their favor now.
But there was much to do, and he was already getting ahead of himself. The main objective now was to get the rest of his people out of the city. If they remained, it was only a matter of time before the cops hauled them all in.
The escape plan was simple, but fraught with danger. They would head to the outskirts and gather in one of several abandoned warehouses. From there, they had to handle the electronic frontier of the city, the only exit that didn’t involve immigration. The frontie
r was put in place to ward off danger from the outside, but was just as capable of keeping individuals trapped within.
Beyond the frontier, they had to contend with external policing, not to mention any ‘forcers they’d picked up along the way. They would have to rely on seldom-used escape routes. After that, they still had to get out of sight and beyond the reach of the ‘forcers. It was a long stretch before their flight to freedom could become a reality.
ALIXS DITCHED THE JANITORIAL uniform once he was on the street, but kept the hat. Hardly a fitting disguise, but it offered him some small comfort. Careful to avoid quiet places, he stuck to the main roads, putting as much distance between himself and the broadcast center as he could. Then he hopped a cross-zone express, stayed on for a few stops, then got off at the last minute and hired a taxi. If anyone was following him, they would likely be thrown off, at least by a few minutes. Or so he hoped.
In the cab, the monitor ‘bot changed directions twice on demand. It then slammed on the brakes in response to his passenger calling out, ‘Here! Right here!’ Without thinking it all the way through, Alixs jumped out right into oncoming traffic, some cash tossed back at the monitor in an afterthought.
He continued this mad-dash pattern for as long as he could sustain it. Then, when his energy level waned, he slowed his pace, but continued moving away in random fashion. When he could continue no further, he found himself a cheap accommodation, usually reserved for business types. This afforded him a place to clean up and recharge, not to mention get off the street for a few hours and allow his trail to turn cold.
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