Kangaroo Too

by Curtis C. Chen

  Both spacemen are kneeling on the ground, sorting through the debris. Several access panels on the back side of the MTI’s main module have been pulled off, and I can see wires hanging loose from the exposed areas. It looks like components from the MTI have been mixed in with pieces that were shot off the mechs.

  One of the mechs is glued to the back corner by a large wad of freeze-foam. It still has a sensor stalk sticking up out of the foam, twitching around looking for targets, but the congealed mass has pinned the barrel of its weapon against the wall.

  “Are you kidding me?” I say as we stop the gurney at the foot of the chair. The spacemen have to stand up and move to let us in. There’s not much room to maneuver in here. “Why were they taking apart the very expensive medical machine?”

  “Stripping it for parts,” Alisa says, kneeling to examine the MTI rig. “These robots couldn’t carry the whole rig out in one piece. Dammit!” She touches the radio button on her collar. “Rich, I need you up here right now! You!” She points at the nearest spaceman, identified as SHIELDS in my left eye. “Go relieve him at the bottom of the stairwell.”

  Shields picks up his weapon and leaves. Alisa directs the other spaceman—a woman named Dumont—to help us lift Joey into the chair and pull the headrests close around his skull before lowering the transparent bubble over his head. Alisa attaches a monitor armband to Joey’s left forearm, and a display lights up with his vitals.

  “Did we get him here in time?” Dumont asks after moving the gurney out of the way.

  “He’s still alive,” Alisa says, tapping at the controls behind the chair.

  Dumont looks at me. “Is that a yes?”

  I don’t know what to tell her. “Talk to us, Doc.”

  “Fucking robots,” Alisa spits. “We need to put this thing back together.”

  Rich runs into the room holding my EMP rifle and a medical bag. “What’s happening? Oh.” He looks around at the parts strewn across the floor. “Oh, that’s not good.”

  “Sort out the MTI components and hand them to me,” Alisa says, crouching down next to the nearest open panel.

  “On it.” Rich puts down his gear and starts picking up pieces.

  I wave Dumont away from the rig. “Let’s give them some room to work.”

  She nods and follows me into the observation chamber. “So how do you like that EMP cannon?”

  I frown at her. “Really?”

  “I’ll bet it’s not as satisfying as the FFG,” Dumont says, hefting her freeze-foam grenade launcher. “There’s no visible blast with that thing, right? This baby puts on a show. Did you see the mech I tagged in the corner?”

  “Yeah. Nice work.” I glance over my shoulder and do a double take. “What the fuck—!”

  Dumont and I both turn around and raise our weapons.

  Rich Johnson is backed into one corner of the room, aiming a pistol at Alisa Garro’s head. She’s standing up, with a med-sig collar around her neck, and I don’t need to interpret the readouts to know she is not happy.

  Rich’s other arm is touching the back wall, and he’s angled his body into the corner so I can’t open a portal behind him big enough to suck him in. I’m just estimating whether I can open the pocket to yank his gun hand back when he speaks.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Kangaroo,” he says, “but if you scan the room, you’ll see that I’m holding a deadman switch.”

  I blink my eye into EM sensing mode and see radio waves pulsing between the collar around Alisa’s neck and a small cylinder in Rich’s left hand. There’s no telling what he could have programmed the collar to inject straight into her arteries if he releases that switch.

  “Okay, everybody,” Rich says in a psychotically cheerful tone, “here’s what’s going to happen now.”

  “You are finished, Johnson!” Alisa shouts.

  “Oh, absolutely, Dr. Garro,” Rich says. “But I think I’ll be much happier in my new job.”

  “I don’t know how you think you’re going to get out of here,” I say, “but it is not going to happen, Dick.”

  “Now that’s not very nice.” Rich frowns at me. “And what are you going to do, Kangaroo? Zap me with an EMP? I’m not a robot.”

  Dammit. I lower my rifle and look at Dumont. “Please tell me you’ve got a spare firearm for me.”

  “Tail holster,” she says, not taking her eyes away from the hostage situation. I do my best not to grope her as I pull a small machine pistol out of the holster at the small of her back.

  “Dr. Garro,” Rich says, “please get Joey out of the chair. You’re going to carry him out of here.”

  He nudges Alisa forward. She stares at me. I stare back.

  “What’s the magic word?” she says, holding her hand in front of me where Rich can’t see it. She flicks her wrist right next to Joey’s head before reaching for the restraints around his chest. I do my best to keep a poker face when I realize what she’s suggesting.

  Oh, that is a bad idea, Doc. But I don’t have anything better.

  Joey’s already got a breather mask on, so the lack of air inside the pocket won’t be an issue. He won’t freeze immediately after he goes in. Can we take down Rich in thirty seconds? Less than a minute?

  “Quickly,” Rich says. “We want to get Joey treated as soon as possible, don’t we?”

  “You could just stay here. Fix the chair, get it done sooner.” I level my pistol at him, but it’s an empty threat. My eye is telling me the transparency between this observation chamber and the treatment area is bulletproof. Which means it’s also foam-proof. And if either Dumont or I makes a move toward the doorway—well, I’m pretty sure Rich doesn’t want to kill Joey, but I also don’t know how crazy he is.

  “Kangaroo, you’re also welcome to join us,” Rich says, “but I must insist on you being unconscious during the trip.”

  “Thanks, I’ll pass,” I say. How else can we get to this guy, other than the insane maneuver that Alisa seems to be suggesting? “You do remember there are hostile mechs running around this hospital, right?”

  “Oh, that won’t be a problem.” He grins. “The robots are my friends.”

  My head feels like it’s going to explode. “You’re Charlie Angel?”

  “Well, yeah.” The grin mutates into a smirk. “That’s obviously a fake name.”

  My palms start sweating. “You’ve been in contact with Sakraida.” If he knows where to find our former D.Int, we definitely want to take him alive.

  Rich shakes his head. “I wish. He was very interested in my work here on the Moon, but he wasn’t willing to meet in person.” I blink my eye into lie-detector mode and see that he’s telling the truth. “I’m just one of many middlemen in this transaction.”

  “You hired Scorpion,” I say. Alisa’s taking her sweet time undoing all of Joey’s restraints. Good. “You know where she’s going. You’re taking Joey to meet her. She’s got the other MTI rig, so you can treat him.”

  Rich shrugs. “That’s certainly very plausible. Like I said, you can come along and find out.”

  “What about me?” Alisa asks, fiddling with the straps around Joey’s ankles.

  “I don’t think Joey needs both of us looking after him anymore,” Rich says. “He’s a big boy now. Almost six years old, you know.”

  Both Dumont’s and my radios buzz. “Kangaroo, what’s your situation up there?” Gorski asks. “We’ve got more mechs headed your way. Be on the lookout.”

  Dumont twitches, as if she wants to turn back toward the door facing the hallway. “Commander?”

  Goddammit. “Go. I’ve got this bastard.”

  She turns and takes up a guard position behind me, watching the hallway. I blink my eye through scan modes frantically. How is Rich identifying himself to the bots as a friendly? He’s got a heat signature like the rest of us humans, he looks like an adult, it’s got to be some kind of transponder signal—

  “There’s no need for you to die, Spaceman Dumont,” Rich says. “Just le
ave now and you won’t get hurt.”

  “She’s not listening to you,” I say. “And how the hell do you think you’re going to get past all those marshals outside? And through the dome into space?”

  Rich chuckles. “Who said we were going into space? Now here’s what’s going to happen,” he says, taking fast steps forward until he’s right behind Alisa, putting her between him and me, still with one hand on the wall. I hate it when my opponents know the limitations on how I can use the pocket. “Dr. Garro’s going to pick up Joey and walk forward with him. I’m going to follow her.”

  He’s in the other corner now, right on top of the freeze-foamed mech. Rich touches his backside to the wall, taps some kind of control on his belt, and steps forward. I see a thin cable reeling out between his waist and the back wall. Solid matter to keep me from opening the pocket behind him. Goddammit.

  “Kangaroo, you’re going to walk in front of us,” Rich says. “I’ll tell you where to go.”

  “Sure you don’t want to lead the way?” I ask. “I don’t follow directions very well.”

  “No portals,” Rich says.

  Then I notice that the mech freeze-foamed into the corner has stopped twitching its sensor stalk. As if it’s now receiving a signal telling it not to look for targets.

  Of course! Rich and Scorpion and Clementine could have programmed these mechs to recognize them by sight, but he needs to protect his hostages, too. That dead man’s switch isn’t just preventing Alisa’s collar from triggering; it’s also painting a radius around him. A safe zone. A blind spot to all these killer mechs.

  I blink my eye into radio-sensing mode to confirm. It’s a very short-range transmitter. Rich doesn’t want Alisa wandering too far away while carrying Joey. And that mech glued to the corner will start looking for a target again as soon as Rich moves away from it. Our small arms won’t be able to touch Rich through his body armor, but the mech’s artillery should do the job.

  This is going to be tricky.

  “Incoming!” Dumont shouts from the doorway. “I’ve got four—no, six mechs on this level and closing in!”

  “Okay, it’s time to go,” Rich says. “Dr. Garro, would you please get Joey out of that chair?”

  Alisa moves slowly, detaching the monitor from Joey’s arm, then sliding both hands under Joey’s armpits, eyeing me the whole time.

  I can’t signal her back with Rich looking right at me. I lower my weapon. I hope she’ll understand what that means. Your move.

  “You’re forgetting one thing, Dick,” Alisa says. “I have something very important that you need.”

  “And what do I need from you?” Rich asks, squinting down his gun arm at her.

  Alisa tenses her shoulders and looks at me. “Now!”

  Joey flies up out of the chair toward me. Alisa’s stronger than I thought.

  I make sure Joey’s foot has cleared the chair. Then I open a portal right behind him, no barrier, as large as I can.

  The vacuum sucks him backward into the pocket.

  I hear two loud cracks.

  Bullet holes appear in the observation window right in front of me. I close the pocket and bring my weapon up again.

  Alisa’s got Rich pinned against the wall. She has one hand closed around his left hand, keeping the deadman switch closed, and the other clamped on his right wrist, tilting his gun up at the ceiling. He’s struggling against her, and they’re standing right inside the doorway. I can’t get a clear shot at anything.

  “Dumont!” I call out, not looking away from Alisa and Rich.

  “Here, sir,” Dumont’s voice comes from just behind my left shoulder.

  “Freeze-foam, please!”

  “Only one shot left.” She braces one shoulder against the doorframe.

  “Then you’d better not—”

  She fires the FFG just as Rich twists his gun arm toward us. Rich and Alisa topple sideways. Dumont’s grenade sails above them. Foam splatters across the back wall.

  “—miss,” I finish saying.

  “Sorry, sir.” Dumont drops the launcher and switches to her assault rifle.

  “Fine. Plan B,” I say. “As soon as you get a clear shot, shoot that switch out of his hand.” I trust her to be more precise than I am with firearms.

  “You mean his gun?” Dumont asks.

  “I mean the radio switch. In his left hand.”

  “But the doctor—”

  “That’s an order!” I don’t have time to explain this.

  “Yes, sir.” One good thing about using a military cover identity: people usually do what you tell them to.

  I crouch and blink crosshairs into my eye, targeting the mech in the back corner. The overlay glows red, telling me I don’t have the shot. It’ll flash green when I do.

  Timing’s going to be crucial on this dance. All I can do now is wait. And hope Alisa’s thinking the same thing I am.

  “You’re going to prison, asshole!” she shouts.

  “Be just like old times,” Rich grunts.

  That’s an odd response. His belt-wire is still attached to the back wall. I can’t open a portal big enough to matter. Alisa’s going to have to wrestle him down on her own.

  She’s not doing too badly so far. Guess living in Lunar gravity for so long is paying off. Rich tries to twist out of her grasp, but she kicks off the wall with one leg and throws him off-balance, slamming him back against the wall. “I will personally make sure the agency renditions you to a blue site on fucking Venus!”

  Rich bends his right elbow and pulls his arm back. Alisa wasn’t expecting that. He fires another shot just centimeters from her face, making her flinch. He uses the opportunity to lunge away from the wall, pushing her back against the MTI chair. She reaches back with her right arm to brace herself against him.

  My crosshairs go green at the same time I hear a burst from Dumont’s rifle. I close my fist around the trigger of the machine pistol I’m holding. It’s on full automatic. I empty the entire clip into the foam around the stuck mech’s weapon.

  The foam shreds into a mist of bright orange fluff. The mech’s artillery arm swings free and opens fire. I hear screaming and yelling.

  I can’t look. I hope Alisa managed to draw the mech’s fire and then push Rich in front of her. I drop the pistol, dive forward to grab my EMP rifle, and fire it at the mech in the corner. I crawl forward and keep firing. I stand up and keep pulling the trigger until the battery indicator turns red.

  I drop the discharged rifle and look at the mech. It’s not moving. My eye doesn’t show any power readings.

  “Sir!” Dumont says behind me.

  I turn around and see Rich Johnson’s body on the floor, two large-caliber bullet holes in his back, and Alisa clawing at the med-sig collar. The display’s blinking all sorts of red alert lights. I use the butt of the EMP rifle to smash open the latch, then rip the collar away from her neck.

  She gasps and falls to the floor. There’s a series of puncture marks down the left side of her neck. And a lot of blood running down her right leg. I blink my eye into medical scanning mode. She’s not doing well.

  “Surgical, Kangaroo, get up here!” I call over the radio. “Now!”

  Dumont kneels down and guides Alisa’s left hand to cover the wound in her thigh. “Keep pressure right there, Doc. You got it?”

  “Got it.” Alisa clutches my shoulder with her other hand. “Joey.”

  “Yeah.” I open the pocket, rotated, with barrier. Joey falls backward into my arms. He’s cold. I hope that’s just because he’s been in hard vacuum for—less than a minute, right? I lift him into the MTI chair, checking him for wounds. Looks like Rich’s wild shots missed.

  The radio chirps. “We’re on our way, Kangaroo,” Jessica says. “These mechs aren’t making it easy.”

  “Hurry!” I say, strapping Joey in and pulling the induction dome over his head and the signal collar around his neck. He appears stable—at least, nothing’s blinking red or beeping loudly. “Alisa’s i
njured, Joey’s still unconscious, and we need to fix this chair! I’m leaving this channel open!”

  I make sure Joey’s secure, then crouch down next to Alisa. Dumont’s kneeling next to the open access panel and connecting wires back together, following Alisa’s directions.

  “Kangaroo.” Alisa points at a box on the floor beside me. Her other hand is pressed against her thigh. I see blood oozing through her fingers. “Give Dumont that pulse regulator.”

  I pick up the box and hand it to Dumont. She connects it to some wires, and a line of green lights appears along one edge and starts blinking in sequence. I hear gunfire and shouting over the radio. Alisa’s breathing is shallow.

  Get in here, Surge.

  “Good,” Alisa says. “Now plug the contact port into the first multilateral slot.”

  I recognize those terms from Oliver’s various rantings, but couldn’t tell you for the life of me what they mean or which parts they refer to. Fortunately, Dumont seems to know exactly what Alisa’s talking about. She plugs in the box, and more lights appear on the control panel above us.

  “You’re a medic?” I ask.

  “I’m a mechanic,” Dumont says. “It’s just a machine.”

  Alisa points at another part on the floor, and I grab it and give it to Dumont. “How long does Joey have? And how long is it going to take us to rebuild this rig?” It might go faster if we don’t need to depend on Alisa’s instructions. I blink up my data link and start an omnipedia search for MTI rig service manuals.

  “Don’t need to rebuild everything,” Alisa says. Her heartbeat’s fluttering. “Just need to ensure cardiovascular function.”

  “And how are we going to do that?”

  “Stimulate vagus nerve.” She points up at the control panel. “Diagnostic. Run.”

  I stand up and tap at the controls. Fortunately, they’re pretty clearly labeled. A lot of red indicators appear when I run the diagnostic, but the MTI coils are receiving power. I hope that’s the important part. I report this to Alisa.

  “Good,” she says. “Program victor-ten. Full power. Override safety.”