“They’re built solid,” Remus said, striding forward and turning the key in an aperture on the first RECS. The front panel opened, revealing a cockpit inside, which contained a complicated array of levers and switches. “I went and researched them after the meeting with Squires. Fascinating stuff, really. They were deployed at most of the elevator installations across the globe, favoured for their toughness and their ability to deal with large crowds.”
“Wait a minute, Remus,” Knile said. “We don’t have any idea how to drive these things.”
“They use an adaptive piloting system,” Remus said. He flicked a switch and the lights inside the cockpit came to life. “Trust me, in ten minutes you’ll be doing gymnastics in these things.”
Knile walked forward reluctantly and looked up into the contraption. It began to make a whining sound as its various components initialised.
“Squires even had the fusion packs replaced and some of the wiring reterminated, in anticipation for bringing them back online,” Remus said. “They’re ready for action.”
Knile turned back to Roman. “What do you think?”
Roman stood there staring sceptically at the RECS for a moment, then stepped forward and took the second key from Remus. He inserted it into the RECS and opened the cockpit door.
“I think these are walking coffins,” Roman said. “But since we’re about to die anyway, why not give it a shot?”
28
“Someone’s coming,” Talia said.
Holger crammed the last remnants of the chow stick he’d smuggled along into his mouth, then brought up his shotgun as shadows appeared around the corner. Talia raised her .22 and stared down the corridor, trying to ascertain how many were coming by the sound of their footsteps.
There was just one – Silvestri. He appeared from the gloom, his skin slick with sweat, and gestured at them to stow their weapons.
“It’s just me,” he said. “It’s okay.”
“Damn, what took you so long?” Talia said.
“We’ve got company out there,” he said simply.
“Who, and how many?” Holger said from the corner of his mouth as he chewed, the chow stick causing a large bulge inside his cheek.
“Looters. Maybe twenty of them. They’ve forced the elevator doors open on several shafts on the southern end. It looks like they’re trying to get them reactivated.”
“So I was right,” Aksel said, tapping at his holophone. “None of the elevators are in operation.”
“No,” Silvestri said, “but you can fix that, right?”
“Yeah. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“What about if we try the next elevator bay?” Talia suggested. “It should only be a ten minute detour.”
“I checked there as well, and it was a similar story,” Silvestri said. “We could waste hours trying to find a bay that’s clear, and still come up empty.”
“So the question is,” Talia said, “can we get past them?”
Silvestri didn’t answer immediately. “It might take some firepower. I doubt they’ll let us walk past and catch the nearest ride.”
“I heard gunfire,” Lazarus rumbled from beneath his bandages. “What happened?”
“Enforcers showed up,” Silvestri said. “Not for long, though. They scattered again pretty quickly.”
“So what’s the plan?” Holger said, taking a flask of water and washing the chow stick down with a noisy slurp. “Do we need to bring out the heavy hitters for these gangbangers?” He thumped the case at his feet with his boot.
“I’d prefer not to,” Silvestri said. “We need to conserve ammunition for the roof where possible. That’s where we’re really going to need it.”
“What about if we activate an elevator as far away from them as possible?” Talia said. “There’s dozens of them out there, right?”
“That’s true, but the waiting area is too open for us to slip past unnoticed,” Silvestri said. “They’ll see us for certain.”
“Aksel, how long is it going to take for the elevator to arrive?” Talia said.
Aksel shrugged. “Maybe a minute after I get it activated. Then we have to get across to it and wait for the doors to close. We’d have to hold them off for maybe a minute and a half to be safe.”
“Too long,” Silvestri muttered. “Far too long.”
“Give them what they want,” Lazarus said to no one in particular.
Holger sauntered over to the Redman in the wheelchair and bent to look at him.
“You say something, mummy-man?”
“Give them what they want,” Lazarus said again. “These brigands desire access to the elevator. Open the door and allow them inside. Let them leave.”
Holger stared at him for a moment longer, then, unable to summon a fitting rebuke, turned and stalked away.
Silvestri grinned, reaching out and clapping Lazarus on the shoulder.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” he said.
“It’s a decent plan,” Aksel admitted. “But I’ll need to get closer to figure out which one to activate.”
Silvestri nodded. “Then let’s do that.”
They travelled along the corridor for a minute or two, moving as quickly and as quietly as they could, and soon they reached the end of the corridor. Beyond, the area opened out into a broad expanse that led to the curving wall of elevators. Talia peered out at them, imagining how the area must have bustled with activity in the heyday of the Reach, the sound of footsteps and animated conversations filling the air as people came and went.
Now the only sound she could hear was a hollow metallic clang as the looters pummelled away at the elevator shaft not far away.
Silvestri edged forward again and peered out for a few seconds, craning his neck at something Talia couldn’t see. A few moments later he shuffled back to the others.
“They’re working on Elevator Twelve,” he whispered to Aksel. “They also have Thirteen and Fifteen jimmied open. If you can activate say… Elevator Six, that should get their attention.”
“Right,” Aksel said, beginning to type on his holophone. “And which number do you want for us?”
Silvestri glanced over his shoulder at the elevators. “Thirty-One is the closest to us. That one should do nicely.”
Aksel nodded distractedly, continuing to tap furiously on the device, and then the clanging outside abruptly stopped. There were several excited hoots and shouts from the looters and the sound of something heavy being dropped.
“Six should be on its way,” Aksel said, licking his lips nervously. “I’m bringing up Thirty-One right now. Get ready to move.”
They crept forward, and as they reached the end of the corridor, Talia caught sight of the looters further along the elevator bank. Their attention had been drawn in the opposite direction, toward the newly lit Elevator Six, and now they began to cluster around it excitedly. About them were strewn all manner of tools – clamps, hammers, reinforcing bars and a circular power saw among others. As Talia watched, she saw two more men emerge from an open elevator shaft, their faces and hands blackened with grease, and these wasted no time in joining the others at Elevator Six.
“Thirty-One is coming online now,” Aksel said. He pointed, and sure enough, the elevator nearest to them lit up. Talia heard a distant rumble as the car began to ascend somewhere in the depths of the shaft.
“They haven’t noticed it yet,” Silvestri said, his eyes fixed on the looters. Talia turned to see the doors of Elevator Six open, and the looters began to filter inside.
“Let’s go,” Morgan said, giving Lazarus’ wheelchair a shove forward.
“Wait!” hissed Silvestri. He gripped the arm of the wheelchair and brought it to an abrupt halt. “We go on Aksel’s mark, not before.”
Aksel’s eyes were glued to his holophone screen. “Ten seconds,” he said.
The rumble of Elevator Thirty-One grew louder, and Talia glanced back at the looters, where several were still loitering outside the open elevator. One of them
stood with his arm across the doorway to prevent it from closing.
“They’re not leaving,” she said, dismayed.
“They might be trying to hack the system,” Silvestri said. “Maybe they think they can bring them all back online.”
“Five,” Aksel said tersely.
Elevator Thirty-One chimed, a deafening sound to Talia’s ears, and then the rumbling stopped. The doors began to open.
The looters were still fixated on Elevator Six and had not turned in their direction.
“Go!” Aksel said.
They swept forward as one, scampering across the floor toward the open doors of the elevator. There was a shout from down the line, and Talia saw two of the looters had broken away and were now sprinting toward them.
“We’ve got company!” she shouted.
“They won’t get here in time,” Silvestri said, his arms pumping as he ran. “Just keep going.”
Talia and Silvestri reached the elevator first. Silvestri braced his arm across the doorway as Talia crouched with her .22 at the ready, the muzzle directed at the looters. They were growing larger in her field of view every second. Aksel and Yun hustled past, then Holger. Morgan and Lazarus followed, the wheelchair moving with such velocity that it bounced as it crossed the elevator’s threshold and clattered into the back wall of the elevator car. Lazarus grunted as he was tossed unceremoniously from his seat, and the car rocked as his substantial weight thudded into the floor.
“Get in,” Silvestri ordered, clamping a hand on Talia’s shoulder and pulling her backward. She did as he suggested, safe in the knowledge that the looters were not going to reach them in time.
They stood back as Yun hammered frantically on the door close button, and then an alarm sounded above them. The doors remained stubbornly apart.
“What the fuck?” Yun cried shrilly. “What’s going on?”
They turned as one to Aksel, whose face had turned a sickly shade of chalk.
“I… I must have screwed up the override,” he stammered, tapping again at the holophone like his life depended on it. “Gimme a second.”
“We don’t have that long,” Holger said, and he moved forward, stepping outside the elevator brazenly, in full view of the approaching looters. His shotgun appeared in his hands and he fired once, then a second time. Talia stepped forward, the .22 at the ready, but before she could exit, the alarm abruptly fell silent.
The elevator chimed pleasantly and the doors began to close.
“Holger!” Silvestri shouted, lurching forward. He gripped the brawler by the sleeve and yanked him inside, and as the elevator slid shut there was a hail of bullets against the outer doors. Talia half expected the doors to open again as the looters reached the call button, but a moment later the elevator whirred and they began to ascend.
“Sorry about that,” Aksel said sheepishly, placing the holophone back in his pocket.
“Indeed,” Lazarus said, clearly unimpressed as he picked himself up, righted the wheelchair, and slumped back into it again.
“No more fuck ups, kid,” Holger said, glowering at Aksel as he replaced the rounds in his shotgun with shells from his pocket.
“Hey, cool it,” Silvestri said. “We made it, that’s the main thing. We’re on our way.”
They watched the levels tick by on the floor indicator, and the elevator adopted a rhythmic whir as Gaslight was left behind. Talia wasn’t sure whether to feel elation at the thought of reaching their first objective, or anxiety, since they were about to ascend into the unknown. An uncomfortable silence descended upon them, and Talia could tell that she wasn’t alone in her uncertainty. The enormity of those simple words – we’re on our way – seemed to have sunk in amongst those gathered. Looking around at the others, Talia could see the concern in their eyes, even among the veterans like Holger and Morgan.
She wondered if this really was the right course of action to be taken. Had they prepared sufficiently? Had they given themselves enough time? Or was this just a suicide mission with only one possible outcome?
“I don’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Yun said, shifting back and forth uncomfortably. He glanced at Silvestri, then at Talia. “I mean, it’s just…”
He trailed off, and silence once again resumed. No one tried to allay his fears or offer comfort. Holger seemed to have lost his swagger, his sharp tongue finally stilled. There was nothing but the rumble of the elevator climbing higher to fill the void.
“Listen to me,” Silvestri said quietly. Talia glanced at him sharply, noting the steel in his voice. There was an equally hard glint in his eyes. “I’ve never told anyone this story, but… now seems as good a time as any to put it out there.”
They all turned to him, curious, and Silvestri offered them a faint smile as he began to fiddle with the silver coin in his hand.
“I came from the east,” he began. “A long way east, further than any of you have been, I’d wager. Out past the lowlands there’s a place they simply call the wastes. It’s an empty nothingness that stretches on for a thousand kilometres in every direction, and nothing grows there. There’s no life, except for that which exists inside one small outpost – a habitat named Speck that cradles a fragile cluster of people, perhaps fifty men, women and children. Together, they live under the rule of an overlord, a cruel man by the name of Siddiqui.
“After a series of misfortunes, that’s where I found myself living, hauling filth and manure through the stinking heat of the greenhouse day after day with barely enough in my belly to keep me alive.
“Siddiqui mistreated and abused those who sought his protection, because there was nothing anyone could do against him. Outside the thin walls of Speck’s dome were the wastes, and to be cast outside was to be given a sentence of certain death.
“Siddiqui bedded any woman he chose. It didn’t matter if she was unwilling, or betrothed to another. That made little difference. She either accepted and fell into Siddiqui’s arms, or was cast out into the wastes. Yet this was not the extent of the atrocities he delivered unto his people. There was another form of entertainment that Siddiqui favoured even more.
“Every month he would choose two combatants to enter a pit, a hole in the ground no more than five metres across, and he and his retinue would perch above as the two in the pit fought to the death. He called it his own form of population control. That was his reasoning, anyway. But when I first saw the look on his face as he watched a man die, I knew that his motivation had nothing to do with practicality. There was no justifiable reason for the killings. Siddiqui lusted for violence, to see death delivered at his behest. Simple.
“I had not been within Speck’s walls for more than two, or perhaps three months when Siddiqui threw me into the pit to face his champion. I was given nothing with which to defend myself – neither sword nor stick, but the man who came at me had a knife. In my younger days, when life had been better, I had been trained in the ways of fighting, not only with weapons but without. When the champion descended upon me for the easy kill, to gut this skinny, starving boy, I turned the knife in his hand and drove it through his heart.
“And then, suddenly, I was Siddiqui’s favourite. I was his champion.” He lifted the coin. “He tossed this silver dollar in the dirt at my feet, told me I could keep it until I had been defeated. I resented him and everything he stood for, and in truth, I wanted nothing more than to throw that coin back in his face, to tell him I wanted no part of it. But I kept the coin and took it with me to every fight. Soon it became my talisman.
“And so, every month thereafter he would send a new foe at me. Sometimes I was handed a weapon, and other times it was given to my opponent, but one thing never changed – I always played the percentages. I was no entertainer, I simply took what was on offer, striking at my opponents where they were weakest, just as I’d always been taught. I felled them all, one after the other, and all the while Siddiqui would squat over the pit, his eyes glittering, watching me kill.
“Then, he grew
bored. It wasn’t enough that I should draw blood for him. He wanted more. The situations became stranger, more unpredictable. Siddiqui would throw a pair of vipers into the pit, or a vicious, starving dog, just to see what would happen. Then came my final fight.
“I waited in the pit that last day, a sword in my hand, the scars of the last fight barely healed. Siddiqui appeared above me, more gleeful than usual. That glimmer in his eye seemed maniacal. I could tell that something was about to happen, but I didn’t know what.”
Silvestri paused, a look of bitterness and revulsion on his face. “It was worse than I could have imagined. It was not a hardened warrior or fearsome beast that was lowered into the pit that day, but a child. A boy of no more than five years of age.” He sneered. “They even put a little wooden sword in his hand to add to the mockery of it all. As the boy stared across the pit at me, Siddiqui announced that only one of us would leave that day. As always, the fight was to the death.
“For a moment, I thought I might do it. I thought I might kill the boy to save my own skin. But as that terrified child stared at me, I finally understood. Siddiqui’s love of the pit had nothing to do with feats of strength, of speed or skill. His motivation was far simpler. He wanted to see the depths to which someone would stoop in order to prolong their own life. He took pleasure in seeing a man strip himself of his decency, his integrity, the very things that made him human, all so that he might live to see another day. That was where Siddiqui drew his sense of power, his enjoyment.
“I put the sword in my belt, then turned my back on Siddiqui and climbed out of that pit. Siddiqui was enraged, his fury murderous. He sent his men after me, declared me a dead man, but I fought past them. I cut through not only those who stood in my way, but through the very walls of Speck itself. I found myself out in the wastes, face to face with another kind of death. And I kept walking.”
Silvestri drew himself up and looked at each of them in turn. “That day I made a choice. I decided that I would rather die on my own terms than go on living a life that I despised.
“It’s the same decision I came to earlier today. I know that the odds may not be in our favour, but… there comes a time when one must risk it all in order to win. Now, the game is rapidly approaching its end, and I’m ready to do that. I’m ready to risk everything for the chance of winning. I believe all of you are as well.”
Skybreach (The Reach #3) Page 20