Hellcats: Anthology
Page 2
Kat rolled her eyes. “I should have thought. If you’re sending it to Queries office, could you add it to this please?” She pulled up the receipt for the stylus and the guard scanned it and then set the location on the packing box accordingly. They set it on the mail dock and closed the cover; the box whooshed out of sight and a green light flashed.
The guard watched their screen for a moment and then nodded. “It’s there. You know where the Queries office is, right?”
They never scanned a second time once they’d found a reasonable “culprit”. “Right next to the entrance, near the shuttle bay?”
“That’s the one. Perfect. You may enter. Lockdown is in 100 units, so if you’re still inside the barriers then you must remain till the solar storm is over.” It paused. “Will that affect your hair?”
Kat rolled her eyes. “I’ll need to be somewhere shielded by then, definitely.” Which was true, but not because of her hair. She waved to the guard and went through, her boot heels clicking on the shiny marble floor as she walked down the hall towards the split staircase.
There was something of the temple about it, though if anything, it was a temple to commerce. The marble was white mottled through with gold, the slender carved columns matched it, and the high arches of the ceiling were covered in an ever-changing display of stars. The vis-screens echoed the sky above through sunset to sunrise and back again.
If they didn’t have to turn everything off for the Eclipse so the circuits didn’t get fried, the view from there would have been spectacular. Kat walked smartly to the half-lit conversations area of the lobby, ducking out of sight behind a pillar to untie her hair. As she parted it, she unrolled the middle section with a thought and reached in to retrieve the memory sphere that had been held in place amongst the strands. Tucking it into her pocket, she hurried through the lobby and up the stairs onto the mezzanine, murmuring into her wrist unit as she went. “TX, enact Protocol Forty-three.”
“Protocol Forty-three activated. Countdown to Eclipse two hours fifty-seven minutes, old time,” the little AI in the wrist unit replied.
“Old time, you cheeky sod?” she muttered. “I swear your personality chip is on the blink.”
“You always say that,” it countered. “One hundred and six point two units Galactic Standard Base Ten, if that makes you feel more youthful.”
“No, it does not. I’m concentrating; I don’t have time to translate from GSBT now. Keep it in hours and minutes.” She headed for the elevators. Fortunately, the one that arrived was empty. She got in and sent it to the twenty-third floor, then unfastened her backpack and took out a small plastic clip, which she fastened on the collar of her coat. The coat’s surface shimmered into the dull black cloth of the attendant’s uniform. “How long before the cameras notice anything wrong?”
“We’re broadcasting a two-minute loop, but best not to leave it that long. Should I start the countdown on the smoke bomb?”
She paused; her hair contracted back into a tight black bob upon which she perched her cap. The backpack flattened and melted into part of the illusion when she slung it over her shoulders. “Start the countdown and monitor the attendants’ comms for anything pertaining to us.” As the elevator drew to a stop, the alarm went off. “Any time now, TX.”
“That’s what the countdown is for, I thought,” the wrist unit grumbled. There was a mighty bang and smoke started pouring through the hall below. “There you go. Fire alarms too?”
“If it’s not too much trouble…”
“Sarcasm will get you nowhere.” But the fire alarm went off, anyway. “Lots of chatter between the attendants, but none about us just yet.”
Kat paused to look over the balcony. Below, the formerly-ordered hall was in chaos. Thick black clouds of smoke had made it almost impossible to see, and the heat was intense, flickering flames and sparks visible as the smoke wafted about. People were running towards the exits and there were shouts and screams.
Kat extricated herself from the crowd gathering round the balcony. The infra-red heat beams wouldn’t last long, but the hologram flames were effective.
“One of your better efforts,” TX murmured
“Thank you.” She paused by the entrance of a long corridor and, accessing it with the attendant code, she slipped through the door. “Reset the lock, would you? I’d prefer not to have company till I’m ready.”
“Done,” TX announced, as the door clicked back into place.
Hurrying along the corridor, she glanced into the brightness of the room before prowling through the stacked monoliths, quiet but for a low hum. They stood featureless and black, except for occasional flickering patterns of coloured lights, somewhere below the surface.
Here we go. Now, which one is it…? Ah yes. She took the memory sphere out of her pocket and scanned the blocky server with her wrist unit to find the right port. The featureless cover slid open. She inserted the sphere and waited. The file was set to download in an instant but as it beeped completion, the lights in the room flashed red and a siren howled.
Kat raised an eyebrow. “Improving all the time, Varin.” Still, he’s never been a fool. Well, rarely…
A thud echoed down the corridor and the door ground open. It moved reluctantly but, the instructions she had uploaded would not hold in the face of an authorised override.
“Damn!” She snatched the sphere out of the port and kicked it under the server. It clamped onto the underside.
The door smashed open and two guard-droids erupted through it, sprinting down the corridor with uncanny speed. Kat fired the projectile pistol at the air duct high above. The droids sped towards her as she activated the grapple—just too late.
As she flew upwards, the droids leapt inhumanly high; one grabbed her ankle. She cried out at the sudden weight, but the ductwork was not designed to hold that sort of load, and it gave.
They dropped from about five metres up; the droid landed heavily and grabbed her out of the air as she fell. It set her on her feet, but she was winded and nearly pitched onto her knees. It held her upright while she caught her breath, but when she straightened, it kept that unbreakable hold on her arm.
Ugh. This was not part of the plan. He’s upgraded the security since I was last here. A bald man entered, dressed in black with the insignia of Varin’s Security Force on the chest. He came up to her, standing too close for comfort, and flicked the chameleon-clip away from her coat. As it shimmered back into its normal colourful self, he grinned unpleasantly. “Well, well, well. He was right, after all. You’re in trouble now, lady.”
Being manhandled down the corridor—droid-handled, she supposed—was hardly a new experience for Kat, but this man was positively gleeful about it. “Have we met before?” she asked.
“You wouldn’t know me.”
Uh-oh. “Remind me. I meet so many people in this line of work.” She brushed back a strand of metallic silver hair, tucking it over her ears.
“What line of work is that? Destroying people’s lives?” he snarled.
Her eyebrows went up at that. “Usually the reverse, to be honest. Whatever did I do to you?”
The man stabbed at the elevator interface. “Not to me, to my father. He was Head of Security here. When you broke in and closed the whole place down, it brought the city to a standstill for three days, and he was sacked.” He rounded on her. “But there was no way you could have got in there. So he looked through the archives, and he learned all about you. He told me you might turn up again, and I didn’t believe him, not after thirty years. But here you are, and you haven’t changed.”
“Thirty years, let’s see.” She thought for a moment. “Your father would have been Marlon, right? Ginger hair, pointy beard, tendency to punch his prisoners in the face for no apparent reason? Yes, I remember. He decided a friend of mine had not paid enough protection money to his thugs and threw him into a cell, along with his wife and children.” She wrinkled her nose. “I didn’t appreciate that. What can I say? I can be touchy
at times.”
“Oh yes? And who are you to say what he should or shouldn’t do?”
She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Who am I? That depends what century you’re in. My given name is Katerina Benanti an-Harad, but I’d say you’re too young for that to mean anything.”
The bald man cast her a vitriolic look. He ushered them into the elevator and then, somewhat to her surprise, sent it hurtling downwards.
Kat frowned. We’re not going to the Great Hall then? It’s a relief not to have to make small talk with Varin, but… He’s not the sort to break a routine. Not that it mattered: as soon as they left her alone in a cell she’d be out of it and away.
The elevator stopped, and the droid marched her out into another corridor, instead of turning right to go into the main cell complex, they walked to the end of the corridor, through a smaller door.
Kat was getting twitchy now. She knew the plans for this citadel like the back of her hand—she’d designed half of it—and this area didn’t hold anything other than the old meat storage lockers, which hadn’t been used for at least a century. That was not like Varin at all…but it was like Marlon, the old Head of Security. Ugh. I knew there was a reason I only come back every Eclipse. Thirty years is recent enough to still have living enemies.
Hennam opened the door of one of the meat storage lockers. He shoved her into the room and as she caught her balance on the slippery tiles, she heard him dismiss the droid. That was when she knew she was in serious trouble. And when Hennam shot her with his stun gun, that pretty much confirmed it.
She came to, chilled, lying on the sticky tiles where she had fallen, with what felt like a tremendous bruise coming up on her forehead. The room had a faint, rank smell of blood and meat. She did not move for a moment, straining to make out what the two voices on the other side of the door were arguing about. Ah yes: Marlon and his son. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. A small part of her brain wondered if anyone in this system knew what an apple was.
“I brought her here for you to have your revenge! She’s at your mercy.” That was the son.
“It’s not that simple, you idiot!” Marlon. He sounded older and tired, but still as brusque as ever. “She has all sorts of implants. They’ll raise the alarm if her vitals go into crisis.”
“She’s seven floors under the surface. If her implants can get any kind of signal outside the room, it’ll be a miracle, and even if they did, everything but the life support systems are about to be turned off for the solar storm. I’m not a fool.”
“Huh. Did you take her wrist unit?”
“Of course I did, and I disintegrated it.”
Oh, TX… Kat caught her breath. You’d better have backed yourself up before we left the ship. She got to her feet.
The movement caught Hennam’s eye. “She’s awake!”
Marlon sneered at her through the glass of the door. “Hello there, criminal. Got into trouble, again, I see; and this time we have you.”
Kat nodded at him. “Marlon: it’s been a while. You got old.”
He spat on the floor. “And you didn’t. What are you, a droid?”
“Goodness, no. Didn’t you know? I’m cursed.” The old fool had been superstitious thirty years back, and Kat was pretty sure he still would be. “You never heard of the Immortal Wanderer? The ghostly being who haunts the space lanes, never to rest and never to die? Bad things happen to all who cross my path you know. How have the past thirty years treated you, eh? Not well, I should think.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” Marlon muttered, but as Kat stepped close to the door, he shied back, making the sign of protection against evil. Hennam rolled his eyes,
Just at that moment an alarm sounded, making all of them jump. “Ten units to lockdown. Ten units to lockdown. Warning: all auxiliary systems to be shut down in ten units. All organic entities should return to the upper levels now. Repeat: all organic entities to return to the upper levels now.”
Marlon turned away with a look of relief. “We can’t stop here. They’re turning the life support off.”
“What do you want to do about her?” Hennam nodded towards the locker room.
“We can hardly take her with us.”
Hennam looked through the glass, and a cruel smile curved his lips. “Let’s just leave her there. Whatever she is or isn’t, we’re better off saying we didn’t lay a hand on her. And we don’t need to. When they turn off life support down here, if she doesn’t suffocate, she’ll freeze.”
Marlon glanced at his wrist unit. “Fine. Let’s go. We don’t have time to waste.” He made the sign of protection again, spat on the floor in her direction, and walked off.
Hennam paused before following. “Might as well get comfortable, whoever you are. This sector hasn’t been in use for a hundred years. No-one will hear you if you shout and nothing you transmit will get through seven floors of solid stone.”
The alarms blared again. “Nine units to lockdown. Nine units to lockdown.”
He winked at her. “Best go. The elevators will shut down soon and I’d hate to be down here when they pump the air out… I’ll come back in thirty years and see what’s left, maybe. If I have nothing better to do.”
He slid the shutter across the glass with a slam, and a few moments later Kat heard the whine of the elevator going up.
“Ugh.” She dropped her head against the door, still dizzy from the stun shot. “Who employs these people, for crying out loud?!”
“Eight units to lockdown. Eight units to lockdown.” Even the alarm had an annoying voice.
“Yeah, thanks for that!” she snapped. “TX, how long is…dammit. Did you have to get pulped right now? And my implants are no use when we’re off-signal.” She did the mental arithmetic. “Okay, between ten and fifteen minutes. Great.”
She walked round the room, but it was featureless apart from some detritus piled in a corner, and a packing crate with the word “Vade Mecum Enterprises” on the side. She nudged the packing crate with her foot, and there was a faint mew. “What the…?” A black-furred head emerged from the crate, blinking sleepily. Kat crouched to stroke it, and it pushed its head against her hand, purring.
After a moment, Kat straightened again. “Well, this situation just got a lot more complex, kitty. I can’t die, but you can. Let’s see if we can avoid that, eh?”
The cat jumped out of the box and arched its back. It sniffed at her and then went to the door and mewed to be let out.
“You and me both, puss cat.”
“Seven units to lockdown. Seven units to lockdown. Elevators will be shut down in two units. Any organic entities not in the upper levels should go to an emergency pod immediately. Androids and other mechanical entities should prepare to shut down until the solar storm is past.”
“I could get to dislike you, you know!” she grumbled at the announcement system. “Okay, next time I hack this place, we’re adding AIs to all the floors.”
The cat mewed again, more urgently.
“You’re right. I’m wasting time. What have we got?” She pulled up the relevant schematics from her long-term memory chip and set her visual implants to scanning the door and its frame. “I should be able to work out something, if they haven’t changed too much over the past couple of centuries… There. The door-lock is magnetic, and it’s attached to the power source. If I can send a set of pulses through there… Hmmm.”
She loosed her hair from its bun and it floated around her head. With a thought, she had it grow longer and finer, and then when it was almost too fine to see, it twisted itself round into the finest of silver threads. “I had a feeling that this might prove useful at some point, but I was hoping to get more use of it before frying the lot. I’ll warn you now, kitty, this will burn out very quickly. There should be enough resistance not to fry my brain at the same time…I hope.”
She leaned her head against the doorjamb and the thread snaked its way inside. “Well, here goes nothing. Hold on to your mousie!”
&n
bsp; The lights flickered, and she swore venomously. “My implant does not like that!” She pressed a hand to her skull, grimacing. “I hope Stella is paying attention; Varin won’t even notice. Points for the androids… Ah!” She buckled at the knees and dropped to the floor. A smell of frazzled hair pervaded the room. She raised herself onto one elbow, rubbing her scalp. “Ugh! It feels like my brain is fizzing! That can wear off any time it likes.” She lay back, dizzy. “It was worth a try, I suppose. Stop fizzing, dammit! That’s too weird.”
“Six units to lockdown. Six units to lockdown,” the alarms blared.
“As if I need any extra pressure.” She opened her eyes to find the cat standing over her, staring at her. “What?” A buzz like static sounded in her brain. “Ugh. Brain fizz!”
It sounded again, and then, with shocking abruptness, she saw herself from the cat’s perspective.
It blinked, and she was back, but now a thought intruded into her brain, tinged with surprise.
“This one talks? Holy hell, do you talk?” she stuttered.
The cat was evidently as taken aback as she. It leapt back, tail fluffed up, and when she did not move, it circled her warily.
“You and me both, puss—OW!” Before she could finish the sentence, it bit her hand till the blood ran, and backed away hissing.
“Whoa there! It’s another word we use for cat, not an insult. I’m sorry if it sounded like one.” She tried to show it the concept in her head.
The hackles went down, but the offense was still there in every line of its body.
“Vzzt is your name?” She clambered to her feet.
She could not hear a difference, but tried anyway. “Viz?”