by J. N. Chaney
Nico attempted to raise his rifle with one hand, but I kicked it aside, sending a spray of bullets wide and to my left. Several rounds ricocheted off the railings and skimmed my skin as intense heat flared from the paths they tore through my clothing.
As my foot returned to the catwalk, my ankle rolled and I fell forward. My body landed on Nico’s, hands and rifle landing over his head. He seized the opportunity to land several more punches on my ribs. Despite his blood loss, he was still immensely strong—no doubt a product of adrenaline. I roared in pain, willing the man to stop. When that didn’t work, I brought my knee down on his groin and put all my weight on the connection. He writhed beneath me. Instead of hitting me, he tried pushing me off it what must’ve been a desperate attempt to relieve the pain in his nether region.
Rather than fight his objection, I went with it, using the force to return to a kneeling position. This allowed me to bring my MX090 down and aim the barrel at his torso. I squeezed the trigger, but his feet knocked the weapon aside. My rounds pinged off the catwalk in a deluge of sparks.
How much fight did this man have left?
I shoved his legs aside and lunged forward again, intentionally landing on his torso. This time, however, my assault rifle wasn’t over his head along the catwalk—it was wedged under his rib cage. Nico felt the barrel dig in and then looked up at me, eyes wide.
“That’s right, you son of a bitch,” I said. Before he could resist, I squeezed the trigger and filled his chest cavity with a stream of gunfire. His body shuddered as the rounds ripped through him and struck the catwalk in a muffled thuh-thuh-thu-thud. His head fell back, eyes wide.
As the echoes of gunfire dissipated, I could hear the steady pitter-patter of blood landing somewhere far below. The smell of gunpowder was sharp and stung my nose and eyes. But the fight was over. I’d won.
I pushed myself off Nico’s corpse and sat back against the railing, collecting myself. I had several newly broken and re-broken ribs. Hells, at this point, I wondered which ones weren’t fractured. I also touched my temple and then pulled my hand away to see bright red blood on my fingertips. And then there were the stray bullets that had marked my flesh. Who knew how bad those injuries were. But I felt strong enough to stand. No, I thought, I had to stand. Oubrick had to be stopped.
For a moment, I thought about trying to dislodge the neutron bombs one by one. But doing so for just one might take several minutes. Doing so for all might take an hour. And that was if I could find where each of them was hidden.
Then I thought of running back and asking Lars if there was a way to disarm them. But what little I knew of black market tech made me doubt that any such efforts would be successful. And even if they were, I was back to the same problem of locating them all with time to spare.
My options were dwindling by the second. As far as I was concerned, these bombs were going off unless I stopped whoever had the remote detonator—assuming there was one. It was mostly likely with Oubrick. And if I couldn’t do that, I at least had to get the hostages clear, which meant isolating them from the rest of Oubrick’s men or getting in touch with the Union. Even waving off the Union might buy me some time for the hostages. I guessed Oubrick wanted the full effect for his massacre and he might not pull the trigger on the bombs if it wasn’t exactly the way he wanted it. Guys like this tended to be control freaks, and I could use that to my advantage.
Feeling the urgency of time, I pulled myself up on the railings. My sniper rifle was somewhere below in the darkness, but at least I still had the MX090 and three more magazines. I left Nico’s corpse and returned along the catwalk and then exited into the main hallway. It was just as I’d left it—damp and bathed in dim light. The city worker’s body still lay on the floor as I limped toward the stairwell door. No sooner had I crossed the threshold than Lars’s voice popped into my ear.
“It is good to see you, sir,” Lars said.
“Hey there, pal,” I replied. “Nice to hear your voice.”
“You appear to be injured. Your vitals are—”
“Yeah, yeah. Not great. I’m sure you’re just dying for another chance to probe me. But that’s gotta wait.”
“What about Fabian and Nico?” Lars asked.
“Dead,” I said. “But they’ve planted neutron bombs in the superstructure.”
“Are you certain about the explosive type, sir?”
“Pretty sure, pal. I mean, I’m not you, but I’d put money on it.”
“If that’s true, and then it appears that Oubrick intends to sever the lower tower from Sellion City’s platform.”
“And take out the hostages and the Union shuttles,” I concluded.
“That would exceed the casualty rate of any terrorist act in the city’s history,” Lars added.
“Tell me about it.”
“You would like me to expound on it now, sir?”
“Negative,” I said, waving him off. “We really need to work on your phrase analysis later on.”
“Noted. Thank you for your consideration, sir. I do aim to be the most effective—”
“Listen, I need ideas on how we could get word to the SCPD or the Union from here. Any chance I could use a communicator out there inside the city’s platform?”
“Unfortunately, no,” Lars replied. “While the city owns and operates the area you were just in, it is still cut off from the rest of the city, physically and electronically.”
“Damn.”
“Damn indeed, sir. Additionally, you should know that once you departed to confront Fabian and Nico, Oubrick began relocating the hostages to sub-level thirty using the main elevators.”
“Damn,” I replied.
“More damns indeed, sir.”
“Any other bright ideas?”
“I’m afraid not. My apologies.”
Something vibrated in my pocket. “What the hells?” I winced as I looked down, pain shooting across my ribs. Still, I forced a hand into my pocket and dug out Tiny’s two-way collar comm. As I held the device up, I heard the dog’s stupid-ass whine that told me he needed to take a shit.
“Lars?” I asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“How am I getting a signal on this collar comm?”
Lars hesitated. “My sensors indicate that the frequency used is a propriety one solely owned and managed by PetTech Industries and is, therefore, outside the effective range of the Oragga Complex’s lockdown protocol.”
“A dog collar? Are you kidding me right now?”
“No, sir, I am not kidding you.”
I held the device in my hand, admiring it for—quite possibly—the first time in my life. “And to think I should thank all those crazy-ass pet owners who insist their beloved animals be above all possibility of separation.”
“Sir?”
“I have an idea, Lars,” I replied. “It’s crazy. But it just might work.”
“Hey, buddy! Hey, pal!” I said into the collar comm.
“Are you talking to me, sir?” Lars asked.
“No,” I said, turning away from the closest camera. “I’m trying to talk to Tiny.”
“Tiny, sir?”
“My damn dog. He’s an Androsian boxer.”
“Ah, because that’s very similar to how you address me,” Lars said.
“And you should think deeply on that point, Lars.”
Lars didn’t reply. I continued to try to hail Tiny. “Can you hear me, buddy?”
Tiny barked the same way he did when I was about to take him for a walk. Then he whined. He needed to go out.
“You wanna go outside?” Tiny barked. “Go outside?” He barked again, his toe nails clattering on the hardwood floors as he danced in anticipation of our daily ritual. I could practically see the damn dog slobbering all over himself in excitement.
“Okay then!” I changed the tone of my voice. “House, open doggy door.”
“Doggy door opening, Mr. Reed,” said a sensual female voice. It bugged the hells out of Heather.
“What a good boy, Tiny! What a good boy. Now, speak, pal. Speak!”
Tiny barked.
“Sir,” Lars said. “Are you feeling okay?”
“Shut up, Lars,” I replied.
“Gladly, sir. However, I’d like to go on record as saying that I am deeply suspicious of whatever you are doing and, likewise, don’t see how—”
“Shut up, Lars.”
“Shutting up, sir.”
An inquisitive whine came over the tiny speaker. “Oh, not you, buddy,” I said soothingly. “Not you. Now, speak, Tiny! Speak!”
The dog liked to make noise, I had to give him that. And for once in my life, I wanted him to make as much as he could. Hells, the poor animal was probably having a canine crisis, wondering what had come over his master. This was probably tantamount to telling him he could chew on every piece of furniture in the house. But little did he know that peoples’ lives were on the line.
I continued asking him to speak, hoping he didn’t lose interest. On and on we went, me pleading for him to make noise and Tiny coming through with one annoying outburst after another.
Finally, it happened.
“Would you shut up, you damn canine cud chewer!” came an all-too-familiar voice.
“Mrs. Vickers!” I yelled. She owned the other half of the rooftop living unit. She also took full advantage of the growing space it afforded her by tending to more flowers and plants than I thought reasonable. The lady had a veritable jungle over there, and one Tiny often found his way into and used as a urinal.
There was a brief pause as I heard the old woman mumbling to herself.
“Mrs. Vickers, can you hear me?” I asked again.
“Tiny, is that you?” she asked with a strained voice. Then she added more softly, “Deborah, you’ve really lost your stars now. Talking to animals again…”
“Mrs. Vickers, you’re not going crazy! It’s me, Flint Reed, your neighbor!”
The old woman gasped. “Ho-ly shit,” she said in three distinct syllables. “Heather’s turned you into a damn dog. I knew she was a witch. You must’ve really rumpled her panties.”
Despite how badly it made my ribs hurt, I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, Mrs. Vickers. I’m not the dog. I’m speaking to you through Tiny’s collar communicator.”
“Collar communicator? Now wait just one comet-shootin’ second. Ain’t no way I’m falling for this prank. Come out, ya’ damn kids! Come out before I call your parents! It’s way past your bedtime!”
“Mrs. Vickers, please!” I said, putting as much angst in my voice as I could—which, given the pain that racked my body, wasn’t difficult. “It’s me, Flint Reed, and I need your help. It’s an emergency.”
“Emergency? And you’re sure this isn’t a prank?”
“No, ma’am. In fact, if you turn on your holo-screen right now and look at the news, I can prove it isn’t a prank.”
“Damn dog’s trying to brainwash me,” I heard her mutter.
“Mrs. Vickers, you remember where I work, right?”
“Yes, you shit and piss on my Starlight orchids.”
“No, me, Flint Reed. I work at the Oragga Complex.”
“Yes,” she said. I could hear her fumbling with something in her backyard. I hoped it was her lawn chair holo-unit. “Yes, you work for Mr. Oragga. What a dashing man. He makes me warm like a hot summer night.”
“Just turn on the holo feed, Mrs. Vickers.”
“Alright, alright, don’t get your ball sac in a bind.” Then to herself, I heard her mutter, “Shit-slinging anus mutt.” Suddenly, I heard a newscaster’s voice come over the comm, reporting on the events unfolding at my place of employment.
Mrs. Vickers let out a string of expletives so colorful, I wondered what Space Marine wouldn’t blush. She sure did have a way with words.
“Mrs. Vickers?” I repeated myself several more times before she replied.
“You sure you’re not talking to me, Tiny?” she asked.
“This is Flint Reed, ma’am. I’m speaking to you from inside the Oragga Complex right now using Billing’s two-way collar communicator. Please, please listen carefully, as I need you to do something extremely important for me.”
“Okay, okay. But I still think it’s wrong that you’re trying to impersonate your master, Tiny. That ain’t right.”
“Sir?” Lars asked.
“Yeah, Lars?”
“I think we’re all going to die.”
I tried to suppress the chuckles bubbling up from my belly, but it was impossible. I couldn’t tell which I was crying from more, my broken ribs or the absurdness of the situation with Mrs. Vickers.
“You’re damn straight, Lars,” I replied, wiping a tear from my eye. “We’re all gonna die.”
19
How many times had I gone up and down these stairs today? I’d lost track. But, frankly, I was surprised I’d lived long enough to keep using them this much. So rather than curse the burn, I embraced it. The reality was that I wouldn’t be using them again much longer. Either they were going to cease to exist or I was. Or maybe both. I needed a drink.
I bounded down the flights, taking the steps two and three at a time as I could manage. I tried my best to ignore the pain in my body, willing myself to endure, to feed off it. I wasn’t sure what I was going to find when I got to the bottom floor, but I knew it wouldn’t be good. I’d need to channel all the pain and aggression I could into a single force, one hells-bent on annihilating these murderers.
“Sir,” said Lars, “I would like to inform you that Oubrick has assembled ninety-percent of the hostages, less the corpses, in the main hangar on sub-floor thirty.”
“Thanks, pal,” I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead to keep it from burning my eyes.
“At your current rate of descent, you will reach floor thirty approximately forty seconds after the last batch of hostages has arrived via the main elevators.”
“Got it.” While irritating, I couldn’t blame the guy for being thorough. “What am I going to find when I get there? What’s the layout?”
“Whereas you turned left from this stairwell to enter Mr. Oragga’s office, you will turn right to enter the main hangar.”
“Got it,” I replied, sucking in more air.
“It is through two sets of security doors, which… I have now unlocked for you.”
“You unlocked them?”
“Yes, sir,” Lars said.
“I thought you didn’t have access to the building’s security system?”
“I don’t, though I am getting closer to bypassing it. However, all doors leading to Mr. Oragga’s offices are within my control and independent of the main complex’s security measures. I also maintain independent control over several subsystems on this floor.”
“The designers should’ve have given you all-access, as far as I’m concerned.”
Lars paused, then said, “I have logged your comment in my system for future consideration. Thank you for the valuable feedback, Mr. Reed.”
“You know, Lars, there are moments where I almost think you’re human, and then you go and say something like that.”
“Like what, sir?” he asked.
“Never mind.” I glanced up at the floor placard to see the number twenty-eight. Almost there. I slowed as I passed the last two floors, trying to give my lungs a chance to catch up. Whatever came next, I was going to need all my strength.
“You think we have time for a quick probe session in Mr. Oragga’s medi-chair?” I asked Lars.
“Sir, as I said before, I never probed you,” he replied.
“That’s what they
all say.”
He hesitated. “You have been told this by more than one AI?”
“Lars, my friend, you are one of a kind.”
“I am not sure what you mean, sir, or what that has to do with probing. But if it is a compliment, thank you.”
I chuckled. “You’re welcome.”
When I arrived at the thirtieth floor, I leaned against the wall beside the door and took several deep breaths. I also swapped my current magazine out for a fresh one, stowing the half-used one back on my belt for later. I charged the weapon and held it to my chest. I thought of offering a prayer to the gods, but even they knew they weren’t listening. So I offered one to the closest thing I had to a deity.
“Lars, help me save these people,” I said.
“I will do my very best, sir,” he replied.
“That’s all I can ask for.”
“And that’s all I can give.”
I smiled. “Seems we have a nice arrangement, then.”
“Indeed, sir.”
I turned and pushed the stairwell door open. The scent of the meticulously clean hallway filled my nose as I looked to the left. Mr. Oragga’s assistant’s assistant’s office glowed with soft dim light, ready to host guests who wanted to test their mettle at his administrative gauntlet. Then I turned to the right and saw the first set of security doors leading to the hangar. Besides the platform’s interior cavity, this was the only other space in the complex that I hadn’t been given access to.
“No one’s waiting on the other side of these doors for me, right, Lars?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
I pushed the left-hand door open and stepped into a corridor ten meters long, noting the final set of double-doors at the far end. Unlike the first set, these had reinforced glass windows in them that offered a view into the hangar. Fortunately for me, the lights in the hallway were off. Providing that no perps were looking my way and studying the glass, I felt fairly confident that I could approach the windowed doors without being seen.