by K. Gorman
She trailed off, her heart thudding, and gave a dry swallow, following that logic to its conclusion.
“If they are scrambling it, then Soo-jin may not have received the proximity notification.”
With a sinking heart, she realized that her tracking screen hadn’t updated, and that the connection icon at the top had vanished.
Shit.
They stared at the two ships that approached the compound, both now close enough to discern their pointed, angular shapes. Her grip tightened on Marc’s hand.
“Run?” he suggested.
“Run.”
Her breath came hard and fast, nearly choking in her throat as they pelted down the hill, the uneven path twisting like a loose, dark ribbon through the grass. Each stride drove hard into her knees, and more than one sent her either stumbling forward or sliding on the loose dirt, threatening painful twists to her ankles. They didn’t dare use lights, not with the ships closing in on the compound.
Thank hells the path was proving at least somewhat familiar, both to her mind and her muscle memory. She had no idea how Marc was managing.
Her knee locked just before the end. She skidded several heart-racing feet down, gravel and dirt scraping beneath her, before it unlocked and sent her tripping forward. She righted herself with a few limping strides before Marc could help, gritted her teeth, and raced for the arm of trees that jutted out from the forest on their right. They hit cover, broke it again, crashed over the loose dirt and gravel at the base, and slammed into the wall to stop, breathing hard.
A second later, the scream of engines shredded the night.
They ducked down as a piercing white light shone over the building, huddling in the shadows of the wall. The light shook and shivered, the closest edge only a few feet from her knees. A few breaths of dust from their run still lingered, drifting in the still air.
The sound from the engines shifted and dropped, taking on a more baseline rumble. She squinted up as the ship swayed. A shower of warm air gusted over them as the ship’s ion trail crackled, bright blue against the dark sky. Its engine casings were thickly armored, the gray and yellow plates cast in a dim light by the ion backsplash.
Definitely Centauri.
It eased forward. The tops of the trees gave a hissing rustle from the blow of its exhaust. As it vanished past the edge of the compound’s roof, the roar of its engines quietened like a curtain had been dropped—as if the building’s solid, concrete build was enough to give a sound break in this open space. Which somewhat explained how they’d sounded so quiet to begin with. There was a heavy, mechanical click, distinct and separate from the muffled engine roar, followed by the whine of hydraulics. The light shifted over, leaving the rest of the area in shadow.
She and Marc could breathe again.
“Drone ship,” Marc said into her ear. “Unmanned, I think.”
Had there been something about the click that had clued him in? Or maybe he’d gotten a better angle to see with? She hadn’t noticed anything weird about the ship, but she had been too busy looking at its tail. Fallon and Alliance both used drones.
The next click sent a race of energy down her spine. The second ship, which she guessed had hovered on the opposite side of the compound where the first ship was now going, came back into view. Its engine gave off a deep purr as it slipped over the back half of the building, a bright light blazing from under its nosecone.
After a few seconds, it eased off, sliding away from them like a piece of driftwood on a tidal swell. A shrill whine lifted into the air.
She let out a ragged breath.
So far, neither ship had noticed the Nemina.
A hiss of hydraulics picked up on the other side of the compound. She stiffened. Her arms were shaking, body tense and ready, straining to listen. Energy buzzed through her limbs, as if she could reach up and pluck that ship straight from the air. Gods, if Nomiki hadn’t noticed their unwanted company by now, then her sister had to be either deaf or—
The loud pop that came next had the subtlety of a firecracker. A heavy crunch sounded, this time from the parking lot out front.
Then, the ship revved back to life. Its nose stood straight up, visible over the roofline of the building. It jetted away, engines cracking and roaring as it made an arc into the sky. Its paired ship joined a second later, and the two of them launched toward the east.
Karin gave a hard swallow. Her legs shuddered as she stood, twinges of pain needling her from the cramped position. She peered over the wall, surveying the now quiet compound. “They didn’t land?”
Marc put a hand on her shoulder, his head turned toward the front of the building. “No, but something did.”
On cue, gravel crunched in the lot—footsteps, headed for the front of the building.
They both froze, neither daring to breathe. Everything went silent around them. Nothing moved. It reminded her of when they were walking up to see the ruins. The whole scene felt too poised, too watchful. As if the entire universe were a taut string on the verge of being plucked. Marc’s hand turned into a tense claw on her shoulder.
Moving as quietly as possible, hyperaware of any sounds around her—the woods were still dead silent—she turned the volume on the netlink down as far as it would go and brought it close to her mouth.
“Soo? Cookie? Anyone?” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Can you hear me?”
Metal rattled at the front of the building. Someone—or something—trying the door.
Marc sucked in a breath. “Cookie was in the front. Looking at the computers.”
They both went quiet, straining to listen.
The sound of breaking glass shattered the night. Metal screamed and ripped, like hinges being peeled back and forced the wrong way.
“Sol.”
Marc hauled himself up and was over the wall in a second, muffling his drop on the other side, and started off. She scrambled after him, less graceful, cursing herself for not possessing even a fraction of her sister’s agility—but then, he doubled back, helping her down with another swear.
“Suns, Karin. You should stay here.”
“I have people in there, too, and I’m not entirely useless.” She’d proven that last bit quite well during her and Nomiki’s escape, and again and again many times over the last few months. She would be more useful here. “When we find Cookie, we’ll send him to warm up the Nemina.”
The light on their side of the building was dim, coming only from a half-moon and a lit window close to the front of the second level of the building—hells, had that given them away? She was probably the one who’d turned it on—but she could see the argument forming on his expression.
The sound of heavy footsteps inside the building interrupted him.
They froze, straining to listen. Was that… metal? It did sound close to some of the powered suits she’d heard before. Bigger than a sentinel, anyway. Marc had guessed it was a drone ship. Had they sent in some kind of bipedal machine to check out the building?
Her jaw muscles tensed. Not three meters from them, the side door with the broken lock stood open, angled too far downward to close again thanks to Nomiki’s initial break-in. She patted Marc’s arm and eased across the gravel, using the balls of her feet to keep the noise to a minimum. She breathed a sigh of relief when her foot found the solid concrete of the stairs. Before she went any farther, she bent down and pocketed up a few pieces of gravel.
She ignored Marc’s stare. Yes, it felt childish—but if she needed to toss a rock somewhere to distract whatever large metal monstrosity was headed their way, then she didn’t care.
She took her shoes off and slipped inside, her socked feet silent on the old linoleum.
The front of the compound had a rectangular design. Two main hallways paralleled each other down its long side, keeping pace with the outer walls, while a series of smaller hallways slid in between them, often connected through the middle rooms instead. At the front, the space opened out into a reception area with a large,
thick, curved counter, several low cubicles, a sun room—loaded with tables and chairs that looked like they belonged in a hospital café—tucked onto its left side, and a security booth nestled on its right. For a few seconds, the clunk and tromp of footsteps at the front were a constant, heart-pounding companion. She strained, memory and experience placing them by the main counter.
Right where Cookie had set up.
When they paused, her heartbeat shot up a notch. She halted, holding her breath, straining to listen.
After a moment, the footsteps continued on.
She let out a slow breath.
Either Cookie was not there, or the person didn’t give a shit about him. Considering she hadn’t heard any other sounds—no yells, swears, whimpers, or gibbers of plausible deniability in the face of what she assumed was a massive metal soldier in a power suit—she was putting her money on the former.
Now, however, the thing was coming toward them. Right down the long side of the building through the hallway in front of them.
By her estimate, they had about three seconds to cross it before the Powersuit—that’s what she was going to call it now—gained a line of sight on them.
Hells, why couldn’t it have gone to the left?
There was no sign of Jon, either. Perhaps he was with Cookie? Or had gone down with the others?
Either way, they were on their own.
She bolted, socked feet sliding the first two steps but keeping quiet, which was more important to her. Office doors flashed by on her left, then the cross-section of the hallway opened to either side. Heart hammering, the sound of its footsteps crystalline in her ear—so close, it sounded like they were beside her—she skidded to a stop, avoiding the urge to brush against the left-hand wall for balance.
Marc joined her a half-second later. She didn’t know precisely how the Fallon military had trained him, but the man must have taken some extra-curricular ninja courses because he could sneak like a motherfucker.
The footsteps kept coming. She eased back from the cross-section, tension riding through her rigid spine, turned, and jogged up to the next cross-section of hallway.
There were two entrances to the rear part of the building from this side, both accessed through a stairwell at the end of each long-side hallway. Though they’d been using the one on the closest side, the same one the Powersuit was walking up, it had now become more viable to use the second one. With the basement layout designed like a segmented ‘R,’ it also provided a more-immediate route to the main surgery theater and secret room.
It was also blind luck, considering the Powersuit was coming down the way it was, where the stairwell led to an enclosed hall with no less than three solid doorways between it and any light sources the crew had turned on.
Gods, it had been her that had lit the upstairs room, hadn’t it? And she’d left it on.
That’s what had attracted them.
Except, as she thought about it more, that didn’t seem right. Earth was not a small place, and she assumed there were plenty of other buildings that had lights on. Even buildings that were in the middle of nowhere.
So, either they had a prior tip of the lab being where it was, or they had managed to track them somehow.
Fuck.
No time to dwell on that now. They had to get out. Nomiki could sort out the rest later.
She hit the other long-side hallway and peeked around the corner.
Nothing toward the front. The hall was dark and quiet, scantily lit by the half-moon outside.
Toward the back, the doors to the basement were propped open, the short set of stairs and hallway beyond empty, but a light from farther along gave the smooth concrete a dim illumination.
Lifting her arm, she reached out with her power, focused, and grasped its energy with her mind.
She blinked it out for three long seconds, suspending the energy in the air, then let it flicker back on.
That should let Jon know she was there, at least. He ought to have heard the engines—if he’d still been upstairs. There was a possibility that he’d gone down with the others, but she doubted Nomiki would leave them so open and unguarded.
Marc tapped her back as the footsteps drew closer to the last intersection. With a thought about heat-sensing equipment—which she knew would pick up any retained heat in the walls and floor they touched, probably not through Marc’s shoes, but definitely through her socks—she jogged around the corner and down the hall a ways, just in case they had to run.
She turned to Marc and put her mouth close to his ear. “You go to the front and check for Cookie. I’ll lead it upstairs.”
He shook his head, eyes wide. When he opened his mouth to argue, she put her fingers over his lips.
“I know this place better than you do.”
Movement flickered in the stairwell across the hall. They both snapped their heads over.
Nomiki appeared in the shadows, both blades unsheathed, and spotted them across the hall.
Her argument was made for her.
She patted his shoulder and jogged off. With a quick peek around the corner—the Powersuit sounded like it had paused to check through some of the office windows about midway down the other hallway—she skipped across the intersecting hallway and through the open door.
Nomiki caught her on the other side and put her mouth close to Karin’s ear. “We can’t fit the Cradle through the window. Has to come out the door.”
Which meant, since the basement lacked a door, that they needed more time.
Karin reached into her pocket and brought out three of the gravel pieces. “I’ll lead it upstairs.”
Nomiki’s eyes narrowed. She hesitated, lips pursing.
Karin could almost feel her sister’s brain hum as she considered the options.
“That’s a stupid idea, but we do need more time. Cookie left some equipment at the front. Wanted me to get it.”
Ah. Well, that explained why the Powersuit had paused at the main counter, then. Nomiki’s dark eyes glanced up, black in the shadows. Meeting her gaze, she anticipated Karin’s next question.
“Cookie’s fine. I sent him to warm up the ship.”
Karin’s shoulders sagged.
Good. That was one big item off her list. And it showed a modicum of intelligence on her part if she’d come up with the same solution as Nomiki, super soldier strategist, had.
And, in that case, she was taking Marc with her. She twisted around, putting a slip of light between her fingers so he could see it better—they were out of the line of sight in the hallway, and the Powersuit, to her ears, was still fucking around with the offices—and gestured him over.
With little more than the slightest of rustles and taps, he eased himself across the hallway. Nomiki patted her arm as Karin made for the upward stairs. “Make it convincing.”
Chapter Eighteen
The rear of the compound squatted onto the back like a square, concrete toad. It was five stories tall and about as uninspired and utilitarian as it could get with its interior layout. Four hallways on each level, forming an inset square, with rooms, offices, closets, and bathrooms lining both their outside and inside walls.
There were only two stairwells going up, which made it tricky. Luckily, the second level also connected to the front of the building.
She and Marc eased open the door, wincing as it made a creak, and slipped through it as quietly as they could. After a careful listen, and a pause while she slipped her shoes back on—she had a feeling there was about to be a lot of running involved—they crept over to the left.
Fear sent a spike of adrenaline through her chest as she came even with the doors to the next stairwell. A raw pulse of energy burned in her stomach.
Gods, I wish the comms were working. Nomiki could have given her updates on the Powersuit’s position. Right now, all she had were the faint, metallic stomps she could hear through the stairwell and the vague sense of where that placed it in her internal map.
Good thing i
t had heavy feet. So far, it sounded like it had come close to the end of the hallway.
She needed to act. Fast.
The front level of this floor had an almost opposite approach to its design from the first. Instead of a mostly-blocked-in middle with an open space at the front, both ends of the long hallway were taken up by rooms, and the middle space had been opened in the center. For the first and second levels, the two stairwells acted as bridges between both sections of the building, the first level mitigating the awkward height disparity between them with a single long stairwell leading up and a short set descending to the basement—the basement level was roughly two meters below the front level of the building. For the second level, that meant she had two choices when she finished climbing the stairs: either keep going and head straight into the back portion of the building, or loop around in the stairwell and head up a small transversing hallway to the front.
She wanted it to go to the front.
There was more room to run, for one. For another, it would get it farther away from the side door she suspected they were planning to bring the Cradle out of.
Plus, the back hallways were tight and tricky, and she did not want to play run-around in them.
Which made her a bit leery about the plan that was forming in her head.
She took a slow breath and let it out. Then, she turned to Marc and let out a flurry of whispers.
“Okay—and, sorry in advance, but you’re the better sprinter.” She shot him a guilty look, then swallowed hard against the ruffle of emotions that followed in her throat—gods, she was about to put his life at risk. “I’m going to toss the rocks down the stairwell. You wait until I’ve gone through to the back side, then shut this door—loud enough for them to hear, but quiet enough to make it convincing—and sprint to the far end.”
She pointed. Down the hall, light from the room she’d probably left lit shone through a doorway close to the end of the hall, its window illuminating a square of light on the white wall across from it and casting a dim glow that revealed the end corner. She’d walked the space earlier, when she’d heard the crew going up the hill to the ruins and looked to investigate.