"Listen, I think we should-" he began.
"We're coming up on the residence halls in a few seconds, I want you to try to get a shot between them," Michella said excitedly.
"You don't really think we're going to be able to use any of this footage, do you?!"
"We'll pull some stills... And crop out the police and the car's interior, I suppose."
"Mister Alexander, don't you think we've gotten ourselves in enough trouble!?"
"Only if we get caught, Jon," said Lex.
"But won't they-"
"Not really the time to be distracting me with questions, Jon."
"I... But... You're both completely insane!"
"It tends to help in situations like this," Lex said.
The pilot guided the vehicle in a frustrating route between the police cruisers. Without any real cover, he was forced to use his pursuers themselves as cover, slipping behind one of them just as another attempted to force him to the ground. The high speed pursuit quickly began to resemble a greased pig chase, with the used and abused Duchess proving itself to be surprisingly nimble with Lex at the controls. It was his hope that one of the cops would eventually deploy something out of desperation, and that said thing would instead trip up one of the other boys in blue. Alas, Rackton had been smart enough to hire competent police officers to go along with their high-end cars. Luckily the empty meadow had begun to shift to trendy coffee shops, university libraries and study halls, and eventually, the overly ornate and hip residence hall buildings themselves. As was the case with most degree-granting institutions, the on-campus housing ran the gamut from luxurious to prison-like, depending on the financial means of the student. On the expensive end were a handful of buildings that looked to be only slightly less fancy than the Pavilion, each covered in ivy, columns, and Greek letters. The financial aid buildings were big ugly boxes, squeezed together in tight little rows, and tucked carefully away among some tall, full trees so no one would notice them.
Behind him, Lex watched the pursuing police begin to drop away. They were approaching the campus proper, where what appeared to be the entire remainder of the police department had established a tight cordon tracing a circle around what was presumably the landing site of the intruders. A small contingent of the police who had gathered ahead were drawing themselves together into a three dimensional road block. Considering the trouble they'd managed to give each other with only four cruisers involved, the first responders who had trailed him thus far must have decided to back off and give their brethren a clear shot. From the looks of it, they weren't going to take their time about it.
"Everybody strapped in?" Lex asked, watching the police ahead of him adopting the positions one assumes when aiming a vehicle-mounted weapon.
"Yes," Michella said.
"To within an inch of my life!" Jon replied.
"Good. This is going to be the rough part."
"What was that last five minu- HURK!"
His comment was cut short by a sudden upward dodge that heaved the camera rig into his gut. It would seem that the Rackton police department had decided to hedge their bets, providing their officers with a wide assortment of countermeasures that worked at various ranges. It was all Lex could do to dodge the first salvo of nets and harpoons, and no amount of fancy footwork was going to keep the tractor beams from locking on. Already he could feel the shudder of beams that weren't quite on target. His eyes scanned the surrounding scenery for anything that could provide adequate cover. The ring of police drew a rigid line through the residence area. Not far behind the rear-most of the cars was a grid of rapid-deploy pylons marking off the Do Not Cross line. All he had to do was get to the other side of that grid and the cops probably wouldn't follow. Sure, the reason they wouldn't be following was probably a very good one, and likely hinged upon not getting blown to bits by enemy gunships that may or may not have taken control of the campus, but hey, one problem at a time. Finally he spotted the low cost student housing. The cluster of cops and the Do Not Cross line both passed right over it. Just as a second flurry of high-tech gadgetry was hurled his way, he twisted the car sideways and pushed it for all it was worth. The new orientation threw off the aim of the police, causing most of the better targeted shots to go wide. A harpoon with a flaring rocket managed to drive itself into one of the rear fenders, but the beating the car had taken caused the whole panel to tear free without so much as slowing Lex down. A few energy nets crackled by his windows, and at least three pieces of equipment Lex couldn't identify whisked by soon after. Then, with a deafening rush of wind, things went dim.
Jon squinted out the driver's side window and saw sky flanked by the tops of boxy-looking buildings. He glanced out the passenger side window and saw the ruddy ground of an alleyway rushing along at a nauseating speed. Lex had shifted the Duchess and slotted it perfectly between two of the tightly packed dorms. The wind was screaming in their ears, even through the closed windows. Jon shut his eyes tight, realizing that if he stared out the downward-pointing window any longer he would vomit all over his boss, which even in his terrified state seemed like a bad idea. He didn't open them again until the funneled sound of rushing wind dropped away and the car righted itself.
Michella heaved a few exhilarated breaths. "I swear to God, Trev, if these straps weren't holding me down I'd climb right up there and..." She glanced at the still blinking red light on the camera. "... We'll discuss it later."
"We better," Lex said, easing the ship around a handful of the 'trees of shame' before emerging into the section of Rackton so carefully patrolled by the police. His eyes widened.
"Jon..." Michella said steadily, "I want you to keep that camera rolling, no matter what. I want this recorded. This is... important."
Chapter 18
Had Lex and the others been approaching University Heights from a higher altitude – or in any sane way, for that matter – what they were seeing wouldn't have come as a shock. As it was, the state of the university complex was absolutely devastating. The detonation had been little more than a loud sound and a bright light back at the Pavilion, but that was a long way away. The colleges had been directly below the site of the explosion, and its impact was far less superficial. Here and there, buildings were smoking and damaged. There were half-collapsed structures scattered across the campus. From the looks of it, some of the damage had been caused by chunks of debris raining down from above; fragments of whatever it was that had been destroyed by the blast. Most of the destruction was due to countless vehicle collisions. The sidewalks were nearly clear of people. Those who remained out in the open had collapsed, their skin raw, as though they had been doused by scalding water. The few able-bodied people were helping the injured to shelter.
"What the hell happened here?" Jon uttered.
"I guess that flash was a lot worse here. Like... Instant sunburn or something," Lex said.
"What about all of the vehicles? And why aren't there emergency crews in here?" Jon stammered.
"Maybe the police scanner has something," Michella said.
She snatched up the device, which had remained active but muted once the camera went on. With a few taps at the display, she began flicking through the text logs of the transmissions they'd missed.
"Here's something. It was just a minute or two ago," she said, tapping a log and switching on the speakers for replay.
What played was a short exchange between a dispatcher and an officer.
"We've got a Duchess sedan that appears to be under manual control making its way to the cordon. Request permission to continue pursuit, in the event he breaches the no-entry zone."
"Negative. We are in communication with the terrorist leader. They have informed us that they are in possession of a second warhead of equal power. They say they will activate it unless we maintain a minimum radius of five hundred meters, centered on the Weston University Center for Material Sciences. If the first one could take out the primary defense and automation node for the sector in one hit, I
don't want to risk setting one off on the surface, especially not in the Heights."
"What if he makes it through the cordon?"
"Make sure that doesn't happen."
She stopped the replay.
"Trev, I think you'd better get out of sight!" she said urgently.
"Way ahead of you," Lex said, quickly directing the car to a courtyard between two tall academic halls.
The hovercar had not yet come to a stop when Jon popped the door, tore off the restraints, and tumbled desperately onto the ground. The camera was still clutched to his chest as he lay on his back. Michella climbed out a moment later, her eyes poring over the text of a flood of dispatches on the scanner.
"Oh God. I never want to leave the ground again," Jon wheezed.
"I've had cleaner escapes," Lex admitted, climbing out and inspecting damage to the hovercar. "This thing handled pretty good for a rental, though."
"Jon, come on, on your feet. Switch the feed live."
"You're not... we're still going to..." Jon sputtered.
"I promise you'll get a raise for this," she said, helping her assistant to his feet.
"After this? I better get a medal," he groaned.
Michella handed the scanner to Jon, who stuffed it in the camera bag. She then straightened her hair, adjusted her blouse, and nodded. The feed light blinked on.
"Michella Modane reporting from within University Heights, Rackton, Tessera. This iconic place of learning is now nothing so much as a war zone. Now that we are among the buildings and people of the area, it is clear that the damage is far worse than it originally appeared. We now know that the target of the attack was an orbital defense and automation node, and its destruction has presumably left the area, and perhaps even the hemisphere, without orbital defense. The loss of the node seems to have caused a short interruption in traffic control, which coupled with the chaos of the blast has resulted in dozens of mild to major collisions. The individuals responsible for this vicious attack have yet to be identified. We--"
"Do you hear that?" Lex asked.
Michella turned, her expression and demeanor continuing to be nothing less than perfectly professional, but with a flash to her eyes that suggested the instant the camera was off there would be hell to pay. A moment later the look left her eyes, replaced instead with genuine concern.
"Jon, camera on autonomous and follow me. We're going to need extra hands."
The assistant-turned-camera man tapped a few controls and removed a control fob from the camera. It drifted out of his hands, hover modules guiding it up to float roughly over his shoulder. It only took a moment, but by the time he looked up, he had to rush to catch up to the others. As he turned the corner, he slowly became aware of the sound that must have motivated Michella and Lex to move so quickly. It was a rough electronic sound, a whining growl that was subtly getting deeper and throatier.
"What is that?" Jon asked.
"That's a blocked plasma manifold getting ready to blow its cork," Lex said.
"A big one," Michella agreed.
"How do you know that?"
"I was a racer," Lex replied.
"And I was an honorary member of his pit crew. They don't let you onto the track without running you through a few basic maintenance courses. Basically to teach you what sounds to run away from," Michella explained.
"And this is one of them?"
"Oh yeah," Lex said.
"... Then why are we running toward it?"
"Because we're in the middle of the city, not a racetrack. If something suddenly flings a load of hot plasma around, there will be some pretty unpleasant consequences for the people nearby. And it is an easy fix, if you get to it quick," Lex explained.
They finished rounding the building. Ahead was a massive tanker. It had driven itself partway into the storefront of a campus bookstore, and judging from the amount of damage to the vehicle and surrounding street, it had been far above the Heights when the blast happened. As the top speed and maximum altitude of hovercars increased, safety technology had grown to match. This was naturally focused on the driver, who as a result was unconscious but alive, rather than a smear across his own windshield. There was a tremendous amount of effort poured into making sure that the more volatile bits of machinery failed in a way that wouldn't make them go boom. High speed collisions tend to have a frustrating level of ingenuity when it comes to defeating safety precautions, though.
"Uh... this thing is full of liquid hydrogen," Jon said.
"Thanks Jon. That's very motivating," Lex said.
The former racer rushed to the buckled side access panel of the tanker and managed to wrench it free, unleashing the worrying sound in full.
"I'll adjust the throttle," Michella said, climbing to the passenger side door and attempting to open it. It was hopelessly jammed, but the crash had dislodged the window, so she climbed inside.
"Okay Jon, come here."
"Uh..."
"Switch the auto-cam to activity tracking mode," Michella called from inside.
He pulled out the fob and placed the camera into the appropriate mode. It scanned the area, then moved to a position to capture what all three of them were doing.
"How's that throttle, Mitch?" Lex asked.
"Stuck. It keeps going up when I turn it down."
"... Alright, keep it as low as you can. Jon, we're going to do what's called 'hot-bleeding a valve.' Generally a bad idea, and I never actually did it before, but I saw someone do it once."
"Did it turn out okay?"
"He blew his hand off."
"Tell me you'll be the one doing that part."
"Yeah. I just need you to keep an eye on this little tube thing, squeeze that little tube thing, and tell me when the first tube thing turns blue. These are technical terms, you understand."
Jon swallowed and took the appropriate position.
"What do I do again?"
"Squeeze that, tell me when that's blue."
"Okay... blue."
"Three quarters of a turn," Lex muttered to himself. "Juice the throttle just a tiny bit, Mitch."
"Doing it,"
"Oh, Jeez. Very blue now!" Jon said, the sound suddenly becoming extremely loud and the tube getting uncomfortably warm.
"Wait for valve... two, three..." He squinted his eyes and turned away, "Loosen the valve."
For a moment there was nothing, then a sharp, high-pitched hiss.
"That's a run away noise, Jon," Lex said hurriedly, scrambling to get away from the exposed engine, "Mitch, stay put! Blown valve stem!"
The two men sprinted away from the engine. Lex slid to a stop a few yards away. Jon took a more conservative estimate, disappearing behind the edge of the bookstore. A moment or two later a bright blue lance of plasma burst from the engine, searing away a sizable portion of the sidewalk and peppering the storefront with fragments of molten stone. One of the stone bits flecked across Lex's arm, lighting a sleeve on fire and searing the skin. By the time he was able to beat the flame out, the plasma jet had died down, and with it the growling throb that had attracted them.
"You alright, Trev?" Michella called out.
"I'll live," he said, looking over the nasty but more or less superficial burn on his arm. "That's not exactly what was supposed to happen, but crisis averted. And I still have my fingers."
"Good," Michella said, "Now let's go. There's a sign there for the Materials Sciences building. We're close."
Lex followed without complaint. He'd known Michella long enough to know not to bother even trying to slow her down. Jon was right beside him.
"No objections this time, Jon?" Lex said.
"Hold on," he said, fiddling with the control fob for the camera as he kept pace. "I killed the live feed for now, Miss Modane, and I'm switching audio to your lapel mic."
"You're still recording, right?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Okay, good work. Keep up. Just a bit further."
Jon nodded, then continued. "Oh
, I've got objections, but the two of you together are like a hurricane. All the worst stuff happens all around you. If I want to survive this, I'm gonna have to stay in the eye of the storm," he said with exasperation.
"Good thinking," Lex said.
The former pilot's breathing was getting heavy, and his heart was pounding, and it wasn't just because he had to hustle with his highly driven girlfriend. The results didn't go unnoticed by Jon.
"You look like you might be having some objections yourself," he said.
"Yeah... Yeah things are starting to sink in a little bit."
"Now? Not when you were risking our lives with the police or defusing an engine."
"We're starting to leave my comfort zone now."
"... You have got a seriously screwed up comfort zone."
"I've come to realize this," Lex said with a nod.
The trio emerged into a grassy courtyard between a few low buildings. At the center was a structure with the bizarre aesthetic that inevitably results when an architect is asked to build something that suits the needs of both a campus and an industrial facility. A handsome masonry facade was coupled with the vents and smokestacks of a chemical processing plant, with a few halfhearted attempts to disguise them, or at least pretty them up. There is something oddly poetic about a smokestack wrapped in ivy. As curious as the Materials Sciences Center looked, there was something that demanded far more attention; the pair of ships that had taken up residence in the courtyard. Both were examples of purloined experimental ships. One was a match for the vessel that Garotte and Silo had so recently destroyed on Manticore. The other was a much more vicious machine, a gunship with a pincushion of weapons and two large missile bays slung below it like a seaplane's pontoons. One missile chamber was conspicuously empty. The other was conspicuously full. All in all, it was just about the most conspicuous ship Lex had ever seen.
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