A second report stated that Celeste Numbar had been captured and was being held in the secret, S-7 holding cells. This was better news, but not much. If they were doing to her what they were to Remnant, Gan would end up having to somehow carry two people out. A third communique stated that Lita Tarquin was being held in custody at the local security lockup in the town under suspicion of conspiring with Celeste Numbar to kidnap Ashla. This report was old, though, over a week old, but Gan found nothing else with her name on it.
Gan checked his timers. The one set for the proper time of the decoy attack had now counted to zero. One timer remained. He had fourty-two minutes before the Jessamine landed. Gan pulled the data stick out of the port and watched it melt into his palm, the nanites spreading across the surface of his smartskin until they were invisible. He knew where to go. This Lita Tarquin was out of his grasp for now, but he could find Ashla’s other friend. And Remnant. Gan turned and left the communications room behind. When the coast was clear, he dropped into a run.
Chapter Forty-Nine:
Delivers the Afflicted
Soma walked away from the woman in the hall. He would have to get her name. He felt a little stupid for not asking already but it couldn’t be helped. The unconscious man lying on the floor with hands and feet bound in zip ties wasn’t Bix. Maybe Specialist Bixley had been disciplined, or requested another post, or was on a different watch. That didn’t matter now.
Soma stepped over the unconscious MP and then tapped the button to open the doors to Remnant’s cell. No need to announce himself this time. She probably knew he was coming. He avoided looking at the screens. He didn’t know why. He didn’t know which he preferred: for her to be looking up at him through the cameras she couldn’t possibly see, or for her to be unaware of her impending rescue.
Soma stepped back into the hall and then down to the door to Remnant’s cell. As he stepped into the little black box, terror stabbed at his neck, filling his head with thoughts of being trapped in one of these cells forever. A new dread stopped him. Remnant lay on the floor of her cell. There was no bed, not even a cot on the floor, not even a sheet, so nothing about her position seemed natural. But something told him she wasn’t sleeping. Soma ran to her, dropped to his knees and lifted her up.
“Remnant?” he called, his blood pounding through his head so hard he could hear it. “Remnant?”
Her face shifted and there was a twinkle of eyes between her still-closed lids.
“Soma?” It came out in a whisper. She blinked but her eyes still didn’t open fully. She smiled, which only emphasized the thinness and pallor in her lips and face. “I knew you would come.”
Holding Remnant with his left hand, he pulled the hypostim out of his pocket with the right. He ripped the cap off with his teeth and then jabbed her neck. He smiled back as he did. He had come full circle, his entire experience with the girl called Remnant was a chiasmic pattern. It started by injecting her with a tranquilizer to capture her. It ended by injecting her with a stimulant to rescue her.
“Sorry I took so long,” he said, throwing the empty ampule away. “They kind of locked me up for coming to talk to you.”
“Didn’t you know,” she said, her eyes still blinking, still hazy, though her pupils were dilating now, the first effects of the stim. “I’m a bad influence.”
Soma couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m getting you out of here.” Putting both hands under her again, he rose to his feet, fighting the groan his mouth wanted to utter from the pain in his thigh. Remnant was too thin. She was so light, like a child. He turned and took her out of the room.
The woman stood in the hall nearby. For having spent the last two weeks under what equated with torture, she looked steady. She was a threat, standing at her full height. As tall as Soma and built strong.
“Remnant,” he said, “this is...I just realized I never got your name.”
The woman gave a smile. Her eyes were on Remnant, her expression complex and unreadable.
“Cel,” she said. “But we’ve met.” Soma’s surprise must have read in his face. She explained. “Long story.”
Soma nodded. A tiny, distant rumble shook the floorplates. Cel’s eyes went narrow. Soma nodded again in agreement to her unspoken question.
“Yeah,” he said, “the palace is under attack. Well, at least the town is. It’ll be good cover. Come on.”
Soma turned and lead Cel back to the guard station. Remnant, becoming more lucid, gasped at the sight of the MP on the floor.
“I knocked him out,” Soma said. “He’ll be fine.”
He lowered Remnant to the chair and pulled open a big drawer in a corner desk. He pulled a heavy particle pistol, a personal energy shield emitter and a saber from it.
“I guess this is yours,” he said, handing them to Cel.
Her eyes widened even more than before. Her fingers jittered towards the items and then she snatched them away from him. With practiced speed and deliberate intensity, she slung the belt around her waist and then slapped a magazine into her pistol.
“I thought I would never see this stuff again,” she said. Then she looked up, face focused. “Okay, where to next?”
“There are a few shuttles up in some of the higher docking bays. We go upstairs, take one and bolt.”
“Do you know how to fly a shuttle?” Cel asked.
Soma gave her his most encouraging smile. She didn’t look convinced.
“All ANC marines are given the crash course on basic transport piloting. I’m hoping we can...enlist the help of a proper pilot, but if we can’t I can at least get us off world.”
Another faint rumble rattled the floor plates, timed as if to offer a suggestion. “Or we can try to hook up with the insurrection.”
“That’s not small arms fire,” Cel said. She could have been discussing the weather. “That’s artillery. How strong is the local resistance?”
Soma shrugged. “There have been little fights here and there, but they would have led me to believe they were dying out. If they’re running artillery, this is the biggest attack since I shipped in.”
“Either way we should go,” Cel said. “Do you want me to take point?”
Soma looked to Remnant. She pushed herself out of the chair. Her motions were jittery, careful. When she made it to her feet she let go of the arms of the chair. She nodded.
“I can walk,” she said.
“You sure?” Soma asked.
Remnant nodded again. “I am. I can keep up. What is that stuff?”
“A cocktail of synthetic adrenaline and amphetamines. It should keep you both on your feet for maybe an hour. Hopefully we’ll be safe before it runs its course. I don’t envy either of you the hangover you will have once you crash. Of course, I’m on a pretty healthy dose of painkillers myself, so we’re all in for a lot of hurt.”
“Let’s get moving then,” Cel said. She activated her energy shield and turned to lead, keeping the pistol up and ready to fire. Soma had already known she was formally trained, when she whipped his fireteam of elite Alliance marines in a matter of seconds. He knew he liked her, because she didn’t kill them.
Soma pulled the assault repeater from its sling on his back and engaged the energy magazine, then he looked at Remnant. She was staring at the mat black weapon and frowning.
“We won’t kill anyone we don’t have to,” Soma said. “I can vouch for her too. She could have killed my whole team when we were hunting her down, but she didn’t. She’s not a murderer.”
“I know,” Remnant said, moving her eyes up to meet his. They were still dilated, wide from the drugs, but sad. “I think you both will have to.”
Soma nodded, readied his weapon and then waved her to follow Cel. She did, and Soma took up the rear.
Soma didn’t know what this section of the palace underground had been before Minister Anatheret turned it into what it currently was, but it was big. He doubted they had done any digging and, instead, cannibalized the space they had.
&
nbsp; Soma followed Cel and Remnant out towards the main corridor. Instantly, Soma could hear talking outside, distorted by the echoey acoustics of the long concrete tunnel. Cel waited inside the doorframe, giving a wary look to Soma. She looked at Remnant, pointed and Remnant took up a position against the wall and behind Cel. Soma cozied up to the other side of the doorframe.
“Negative,” one of the voices said. “This is the biggest single attack we’ve had since the defense force pulled out. The insurrectionists have pushed halfway into town. They’re moving for the main lifts up to the palace.”
Cel gestured. Two enemy contacts in the linear danger area.
“All respect, sir,” came a second voice, “but that’s a suicide run.”
“Yes,” came the first voice again, “it is, but command wants all available units down there, that means us. We’ll meet up with the rest of the squad at the lifts. Let’s go.”
Before a single boot echoed against the floor, Soma heard a moan behind him and then a yell. Cel said nothing. Soma said nothing. Not even a look or a gesture passed between them. They stepped out of the door and opened fire on the two men. They were both MPs and carrying the same standard issue assault repeater that Soma had. Their eyes went wide, and they were on their way of turning to investigate the yell.
Cel went first, she had the shield. Soma walked low behind her, making sure he had room to fire. Cel hit the man on the left twice in the chest. Soma fired once at the man on the right. The two MPs crumpled to the floor. The explosive crack of ionized particles accelerating at many times the speed of sound filled the echoey corridor with ear-shattering noise. Soma turned, still holding his repeater up in case anyone was in the corridor behind them. It was empty. At the same time Cel stepped up to the two dead men. When Soma turned again she had already ripped one of their vests off and she was snapping it on over her tattered tank top. She then grabbed a repeater and slung it over her back.
Soma grabbed the feet of the MP he had killed, cleaning up his own mess, he thought, and started dragging him back into the prison ward. As he did the man sputtered. His eyes opened and stared at Soma with an intensity only dying men could offer and he bared bloodied teeth.
“Prisoner escape on sublevel—” Cel shot him in the head and the intensity in his eyes faded.
“Well,” Cel, “this is turning inside out fast.”
Soma dropped the feet. “Remnant,” he called, pulling his repeater from its sling again. He missed the mechanical servos that would hold his weapons to his back in the marine armor. A sling seemed so primitive and constantly in his way.
Remnant came out, her eyes showing she was prepared for the worst. She blinked back tears. How, Soma wondered, could she still have tears for the dead after seeing so much?
“Let’s go,” Soma said. “They called for help. We need to move.”
Remnant nodded. They started jogging and Cel started giving orders to the girl.
“I want you to hug the inside of the corridor at all times, ready to hide behind the supports or fall prone if we find trouble.”
Remnant nodded. “Okay.”
“If the tunnel starts curving away from you,” Cel continued, “you wait for me to clear the way forward, then cross over and hug that wall.”
“I will,” Remnant said.
Soma continued to jog in the rear, pushing past the growing ache in his thigh. His painkillers were wearing off. Oh well. He’d fought through injuries before. It wasn’t like it would stop him, just make the job harder.
Apparently, the APC had better things to do than conduct speedy repairs on the tunnels after the explosion of the shuttle. Someone swept the debris off the floor, but several sections of hallways were missing their light strips. There were black wounds in the concrete in places where the firefight had broken out afterwards.
They moved down the curving tunnel. Soma stepped as lightly as he could and cringed at every scrape and rattle caused by their motion. They passed several darkened doorways. Most were locked, obvious by the glowing red lights on the door consoles. Cel halted the group long enough for Soma to do a quick check inside the doors that weren’t locked. One was a waste recycling plant full of waist-wide pipes and confused smells. Another was an unused refrigeration room full of crates covered in thick dust and networks of cobwebs. A third was a backup server room with huge data storage units humming and blinking cheerily.
The tunnel opened up into a wide room with a tall, vaulted ceiling. In a darkened alcove to the right a derelict cart sat, it’s hood opened and wires hanging out of it giving Soma the impression of intestines spilling out of a corpse. In the corner to the left there stood a table and chairs. Cards lay on the table in the configuration of a game left in a hurry. Twelve meters ahead the room ended, and the tunnel spilled onward, cut into the southern wall. Tunnels also pushed out to the left and right.
Soma stopped at the cart in the alcove. The wires all looked diagnostic in nature.
“Should I see if I can get the cart running?” Soma asked.
“Their speed is locked for safety,” Cel said. She nodded at Remnant. “Even she could outrun them. Besides the lift is close, a little farther.”
Soma nodded, though Cel was already looking forward again. They didn’t get halfway through the big junction room, when they heard voices, echoing from ahead, along with the sound of an electric whine.
“Jin,” Cel said.
“Took them long enough,” Soma said. “Stand here or pick a different way?”
Cel shook her head. “Right is a dead end. Left will wind us around them but we’ll miss the northern lift station and if they’ve staggered their numbers, we could be surrounded.”
“So, we hold here,” Soma said. “Fight it out.”
He looked at Remnant. The motion made him feel like he was looking for her advice. He saw a shadow of fear in her eyes. She didn’t want to go back into her cell. That much was obvious. She closed her eyes. Her mouth started moving and Soma realized she was praying. It had been so long since Soma had seen someone uttering a silent prayer and for a moment he wondered if he had gone deaf.
For a moment, he was entranced by what Remnant was doing. He wondered what she was saying. He wondered if someone was listening. Someone who cared about Soma, and a had a plan for his life that didn’t involve getting gunned down in these tunnels. Logically, Soma figured he was avoiding the problem at hand, like a child singing so he might not hear the thunder outside. Then he had an idea.
“Cel,” he asked. She had started moving back into the tunnel they came from, when she turned to him. “We’re on sublevel seven, right?”
Cel narrowed her eyes. “Yes.”
Soma pointed down the east-ward tunnel. “Would room number 113 be down that way by any chance?” It was unlikely, but the idea had come to him in an instant and he figured he didn’t have anything to lose.
Cel narrowed her eyes and looked at the tunnel entrance Soma pointed at. “Yeah, why?”
Soma smiled. “Come on,” he said, heading that way, “I think I know a way to circumvent our friends there.”
He could hear Cel and Remnant padding behind him. He could also hear the voices and the electric whine still, like the attacking force was dead on his heels. He sped up to a jog. He passed more identical doors. Each had a number branded on it. He counted them.
S7-121, S7-120, S7-119, S7-118.
As he jogged he also tried to consider his enemy’s plan. There were further explosions far away. The battle in town continued, somehow reverberating the sounds of its violence even here, in these deep tunnels. The APC might still be stretched thin. And they didn’t know who was releasing the prisoners. Would they assume the prisoners managed to escape themselves? Possible, but not probable. The MPs likely didn’t know what was going on, but the officers would have a clue and they would know the prisoners would need help. But they couldn’t expect a large force. How would that help get to them if the attack was still in the town? They might also expect the priso
ners didn’t have the benefit of Soma’s hypo-stims and were not in combat shape.
Soma almost passed S7-113 and stopped. The door was shut. Locked.
After patching himself up, Soma had gone back to the scene of the explosion to loot the men that had been taking him to his own black box and had pulled the link of a Sergeant Major. How fitting, Soma figured.
He lifted the card and tapped the console next to the door. It uttered an angry buzz in response and refused to unlock.
“Come on,” Soma said. He tried it again. Tap, buzz, locked. Cel and Remnant caught up with him.
“What are you doing?” Cel asked.
“We’re going to need to hurry,” Soma said.
“Why?”
Soma backed up, aimed his repeater at the heavy door and fired three times, filling the corridor with an ear-splitting cacophony. In his peripheral vision, Remnant slapped her palms over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut.
“They know where we are now,” Cel said, her words breaking over the ringing in his ears only because she shouted it.
Soma kicked the door close to the lock. It banged but held. He kicked it again. It budged an inch. The voices were closer now. He had to hurry. With a grunt he kicked again, and the heavy door swung open with a bang.
“Come on,” he said. He waited for Remnant and Cel to enter. He followed them, and then pushed the door back to the shut position. It wouldn’t properly shut, the locking device was destroyed, but it would look the part as long as their pursuers didn’t give it too much attention.
He found himself in a dark room. A blade of light from under the wrecked door cut across it, illuminating little, but none of the tunnels had been well lit so his eyes were already pretty adapted for the darkness. The room appeared to be part of a water processing plant. He could hear the water flowing through the maze of pipes into the huge, shiny tanks. Computers hooked up to the tanks blinked and hummed, their screens displaying the processes by which the water was being cycled and purified. This apparently was the final stage of the process and the water moving out of the tanks was heading off to be used or stored.
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