Cara kept a tight grip on her Empathy and was relieved when the beep announced the end of the first segment. Most of the spectators stayed where they were but Cara made her way back toward the entrance from segment six, just above the equator of the sphere.
*Archie?* she asked.
*Ready,* he answered.
*Ronan?*
*Almost down to ground level.*
*Bronsen.*
*Over here.*
*Tengue? Gwala?*
*Here.*
*Have any trouble at the med center?*
*Nothing to worry about. Amateurs. They don’t even know we’ve left yet.*
*Hilde?*
*Close by.* The pilot’s reply was weaker. *Ready when you all are. Just give me the word.*
Cara clamped her feet to the plating by the entrance and spotted Bronsen standing by a stairwell that was taped off with warning tape and sported a notice saying, DO NOT CROSS THIS LINE, in big bold letters. Cara looked up. Segment Eight was directly opposite the stairwell, two hundred meters across the empty interior of the spherical arena.
*Now, Archie.*
The people down at ground level didn’t know anything had happened for a few moments, until the screaming started. Six hundred people in Segment Eight began to fall from the ceiling in slow motion as their magnetic boot grips failed and a whisper of gravity drew them slowly down. The floor space would easily accommodate six hundred without a crush, but there was going to be a lot of flailing around and motion sickness. Not a good combination. The big worry for the management would be that if one segment had failed then the others might follow. They would need every security guard they could draft to get people out of the danger zone as quickly as possible.
The alarms began to sound. That would relay to the emergency services. The whole place would be full of first responders within minutes.
As the first few tumbling people reached the head of the stairwell, Cara, Ronan, Archie, and Bronsen abandoned their mag plates and jumped. Tengue and Gwala were ahead of them.
*Bronsen?* Cara asked.
*Fifth level down, directly below us,* Bronsen replied.
*Nan, we’re coming to get you.*
*We’re not alone,* Nan said. *There’s a guard. He’s armed and he has an earpiece and transmitter. I think you’ve got a welcoming committee.*
*Shit.*
They landed on the stairs, the antigrav effects less here now that they were below ground level, though they were still light. This wasn’t the ideal place to be if there was a welcoming committee waiting.
Guards erupted from a room on the landing below them. Tengue and Gwala got off four shots in quick succession, all smart-darts loaded with quick-acting anesthetic. Four guards fell, blocking the shots of the two who were still on their feet. Gwala’s fists took down the closest one and Tengue got in another shot, which took care of the last one.
“Is that it?” Bronsen asked aloud.
“Doubt it,” Tengue answered.
Cara glanced into the room: a series of screens showed various corridors from ground level to the basement, nine floors down. As she’d hoped, the chaos was blocking access to the stairwell. There was a room with a woman lying prone on a bed and a boy. Nan and Ricky. Sitting on a chair in the middle of the room was a hulking figure of a man with a bolt rifle across his knees, grim-faced, staring at the door.
*What’s your situation, Nan? I can see from the screen it doesn’t look good.*
*The man’s called Minnow. He’s been kind to Ricky, but he’s never come with more than a sidearm before. He’s not a natural born killer, but I’m an Empath. I can tell he’s scared, and a man who’s scared will do stupid things.*
*Is he still talking on the wire?*
*He’s listening. There are people out there.*
*I can’t see anything on the screen. All the corridors are empty.*
*It’s a trap.*
*Yes, but where?*
She turned to Tengue.
“One man with a bolt rifle in the room with Nan and Ricky. Somewhere there’s a trap set for us, but where is it?”
“Keep going?”
“We don’t have a choice.”
“Proceed with caution then.” He jerked his head and Gwala advanced down the stairs. The rest of them followed.
Ricky sat on the edge of Nan’s bed keeping up a conversation with Minnow that was more like a monologue, as the normally talkative guard barely answered. Most of it was for Nan’s benefit, as she lay unmoving but wide awake.
“What’s happening, Minnow? Why are you just sitting there? What kind of gun is that? Is it a bolt rifle? What’s that thing in your ear? Is it a receiver? Have you got a transmitter? Why are you wearing a buddysuit today? Is there something special going on? Are we getting out of here? You wouldn’t hurt us, would you?”
He felt Nan’s foot twitch. Was that good or bad? He sure wished he had an implant right now.
“Shut up, kid, and read your book. Stay still and quiet and nobody needs to get hurt.”
“Who are you listening to on that earpiece? Isn’t it the big game today? Aren’t you missing it? Have you got a commentary in your earpiece? You have!”
“No commentary. More than my life’s worth. Shut up, kid.”
“Aww come on, Minnow, be a pal.”
“I ain’t your pal. Not today.”
“I need to pee, Minnow. I need to pee real bad.”
“Hold it, kid.”
“I can’t. Just a quick pee, Minnow, please. Then I’ll sit back down here and you’ll not hear another word out of me. Promise.”
“Make it quick.”
Ricky held the blast pack of anesthetic in his sweaty palm. If there was a time to use it, that time had come. If he could. He jumped down from the bed and padded over to the san-unit on bare feet, pulled the pan out of the wall and hoped he could manage to pee, even if it was only a little bit. Minnow kept his eyes fixed on the door, his back straight, listening to something over the earpiece. Ricky waved his hand over the sensor that would retract and clean the bowl, then while the swirl of cleaning fluid and the hum of the pump covered up any sound his bare feet might make he crossed the couple of meters to the back of Minnow’s chair, and with all the strength that he had, slapped the blast pack to the side of Minnow’s neck just beneath his ear.
“Wha . . .” Minnow elbowed Ricky hard in the chest, flinging him backward. Ricky tried to draw a breath and failed. Minnow was on his feet now. The barrel of the bolt rifle came up in an arc, drawn to him like a magnet to iron. The blast pack was having no effect. It was probably calibrated for someone Nan’s size and Minnow was a lot taller, a lot heavier. And he was angry. Ricky could see it in his eyes, hurt and betrayal. He’d tried to be a decent human being and Ricky had turned on him.
“Minnow!” Nan sat up and rapped out Minnow’s name.
Ricky saw the surprise in his eyes and his head snapped around, the gun’s nose following it a fraction later.
“No!” Ricky forced himself to his feet and jumped at Minnow’s back. The pair of them hit the floor and the rifle clattered against the ceramic. Ricky rolled over, groaning, but Minnow didn’t move. The blast pack had finally done its job.
“Well done, Ricky.” Nan looked up at the eye on the wall. “If they saw that they’ll be down here in no time. If they weren’t watching we may win a few minutes. Help me drag him out of the cam view.”
She stood up, or tried to, but her healing leg let her down and she fell across the bed. “Shoot! How long have I been lying in that bed?”
“Too long.” Ricky helped her on to her feet and then steadied her when she sat down. When had Nan got so light? “I’m not sure. It’s hard when every day’s the same.”
“You’ve done marvelously.”
Ricky felt himself swell with pride.
“Just Cara? Where’s Uncle Ben?”
“Coming, and no, not just Cara, she’s got a team with her.”
“Will this help?” Ricky teased the receiver out of Minnow’s ear and handed it to Nan.
She looked at it distastefully, wiped it on the blanket, then pushed it into her own ear. “Hand me the gun. Now, can you move Minnow by yourself?”
Ricky pulled the gun out from beneath Minnow’s chest and passed it to Nan, who checked the safety and placed it on the bed. He pulled at Minnow’s arm, but barely moved the man. He was heavy. Pushing had no better success. Minnow had slumped half on his face with one arm beneath him. Ricky grabbed hold of his shoulder and tugged until Minnow flopped onto his back, slightly closer to the bed. Then using the same technique, he rolled him over again, this time onto his face. He was alongside the bed now. Ricky pushed. Minnow moved a couple of centimeters at best. Nan slithered to her knees and started to push as well. Five centimeters, ten, twenty. Gradually they got him tucked away.
“That’s better.” Nan’s tan was suspiciously pink and she could barely catch her breath to speak. She laughed, a kind of gurgle. “And now I don’t think I can get up again. Give me a hand, Ricky.”
She wasn’t such a dead weight as Minnow. Ricky managed to get her on her feet and she rolled herself back onto the bed.
“Now what?” Ricky asked.
“Now we wait for Cara.”
Archie sent a handful of bots scuttling down into the pit of the stairwell. “Floor below is clear,” he said.
Cara switched to silent mode. *Check for booby traps: ordnance, gas vents, anything unusual.*
*Nothing,* he said after a short interval.
On the fourth level they paused for the bots to check the next floor down, Nan’s floor, even more thoroughly, but the corridor remained stubbornly empty.
*This isn’t right. There’s no way we could get so lucky,* Cara said. *Is the antigrav shaft working? Are they going to come at us that way? Rappel down?*
*Antigrav tube isn’t working, but I can reset it,* Archie said. *They switch it off during matches.*
*Power it up. At least it will slow them down if they try to come that way.*
Cara nodded to Tengue and Gwala and fell into step behind them down the last flight of stairs to Nan’s level. From the landing there was a corridor with a comm station in it and beyond the comm station a bend. This was how Ricky had described it.
The grav shaft was just behind the stairwell, a faint hum announced that it was operational. Beyond the grav shaft the corridor dead-ended. She compared it with Ben’s schematics that he’d infodumped into her head. There used to be doors there, but they’d blocked off the corridor.
Bronsen put his hand on the left-hand wall. *Nan and Ricky are behind this. The door must be around the next corner.*
Cara nodded. *Thanks. You’ve done your bit. Go back up a level. Guard the antigrav and the stairs. Don’t do anything heroic, just yell if anyone comes close.*
*Understood.*
Cara let her senses roam out to see if she could feel any human presence. Ronan joined with her. Just Nan and Ricky.
*Nan, we’re outside. How’s your guard doing?* Cara brought Nan into the gestalt so that everyone got the answer.
*Sleeping like a baby. My great-grandson is a very smart kid.*
*Tell me the details later. We’re on your floor, by the side wall. There’s still no sign of a trap. Sending a bot to hack your door lock. Don’t come out until we’re sure it’s clear.*
*Got that. Staying put. I don’t have much choice, my legs aren’t up to much right now.*
*Don’t worry, we’ve got that covered,* Ronan said. *Got an antigrav harness for you.*
*Oh great, I get towed along like a balloon on a string.*
Ronan chuckled. *That’s about it. Are you complaining?*
*I wouldn’t dare.*
They moved to the corner. Tengue used a scope to confirm what the bots had told Archie. *Empty. Door on the left, five meters. Corridor dead-ends.*
*What?* Had they blocked off the corridor since Ricky had seen it on his abortive escape attempt? Ben’s schematic said it was a set of doors, too.
*Oh shit. Each end of the corridor. Archie, send your bots down, don’t just look. Check for a holographic screen. There should be doors there.*
The blank end wall of the corridor behind them disappeared. A dozen buddysuited figures boiled out of the space. A barrage of bolts hit the ceiling beyond them—deliberately fired high.
“Stand down. Raise your hands in the air,” a female voice shouted.
They jumped back to the bend in the corridor. At the other end the blank wall had disappeared and another dozen figures stood, six abreast across the corridor, bolt rifles aimed.
Tengue and Gwala moved in opposite directions. They each hurled a flashbang while at the same time banging a shield-stick on the floor. A shield rippled across the corridor, one on each side of Cara’s group. Stride by stride they moved around the corner and to the open door of Nan and Ricky’s cell. A barrage of bolts pounded into the shields simultaneously, but they held firm.
“Very useful gadgets,” Cara said. “How long will they hold?”
“About long enough to get into here.” Tengue and Gwala held the barrier while they all piled into the cell and then doubled up what was left of the shield while they slammed the door.
“Know how to make an entrance, don’t you?” Nan said.
“Hi, Nan. Hi, Ricky,” Cara said. “Seem to have made a mess of this. How are you?”
“Well, we were all right. Not sure now,” Nan said as Ricky threw himself at Cara, almost bowling her over.
“Where’s Uncle Ben?”
“He’s meeting us later.” She jerked her head sideways. “This is Ronan. He’s our medic.”
“Hi, Miss Benjamin.”
Nan checked him over for a few moments. “You can call me Nan.”
He grinned at her then produced an antigrav harness from inside a slim pack. “I brought a spare pair of legs. May I fit them?”
“Cara, is Uncle Ben all right? I mean, why didn’t he come himself?” Ricky was at her elbow, face all concern.
“He’s coming, Ricky. In the sleekest spaceship you can imagine, a raider with a jump drive.”
“Oh, boy.”
We just have to get out of here first, she thought.
*Bronsen, activity on the floor above us?*
*Nothing yet.*
*Right.* “Archie, what can your bots do to break through the ceiling? Can it be done?”
“Some of the boys are still outside, I’m sending them up to the floor above. Oof!” He clutched his head. “Sorry, they just totaled them. Just these guys then.” He sent five small spider bots up the wall and across, each drilling into a different section of the ceiling and disappearing through into the void.
Something whomped into the door from the outside.
“Archie, can you hurry?”
“Three charges, here, here, and here should do it.” Archie pointed and brought down three bots.
Cara took a single charge from her belt and handed it over, Archie added one of his own, and Gwala a third.
“I suggest making a makeshift shelter out of the bed and mattress. There’s going to be a lot of debris.”
Another whomp shook the door.
“Everyone behind the bed,” Cara said. “Whoa, he’s a big boy.” As they moved the bed Minnow’s recumbent body was exposed. He snored loudly once and fell silent again.
“Three of us could shelter under him,” Gwala said.
“That’s Minnow,” Ricky said. “He was kind to me. Don’t leave him out there to get hurt.”
; “Look, kid—” Gwala began.
“Pull him into the corner,” Cara said. “Get down, use the bed frame and the mattress. Right, Archie, best we can do. Blow it!”
She’d barely said the words when three sharp cracks and a tearing groan dropped a section of ceiling on the far side of the room, filling the air with dust and the acrid reek of explosives.
Tengue was on his feet first, coughing, followed closely by Gwala. There was another whump against the door and a sprinkling of rubble cascaded down from the raw hole above them.
“Quick. I can hear movement.” Bronsen peered down from above.
“Tengue,” Cara said.
“On it.” Tengue cupped his hands, Gwala stepped into them and got a boost upward. He caught the reinforcing beam that projected from the hole and swung up easily. Archie did the same for Tengue, boosting him up to Gwala’s waiting grasp. They didn’t wait, but ran to secure the stairwell. The building shook as they dropped a charge down it to slow down the opposition.
“Ronan, Nan, get up there now,” Cara said. “Drop a line.”
Ronan flicked a switch on the side of Nan’s antigrav casing and pushed off, rocketing upward to be caught by Bronsen. Archie boosted Ricky up next.
Another whomp on the door. The next one would batter it down.
“You next,” Archie said, cupping his hands for Cara’s foot and shoving as she sprang. Bronsen caught her hand and pulled.
Ronan lay down and dropped a thin line for Archie, whose head appeared through the hole as another whomp blew the door inward. He swung his legs up and rolled clear of the hole as a bolt gun discharged into the space he’d just cleared.
“Grav shaft, quick,” Ronan said.
“Got an idea,” Cara said. “Tengue, can you blow the stairs?”
“One charge left.” Tengue pulled it from his belt.
Crossways: A Psi-Tech Novel Page 32