They’re freakishly fast; strong too. Boosted guys. Gotta be. Nanotechnology cybernetics give a man strength and speed that Mother Nature never intended, but should have. Boosted, they are as strong and as fast as I am with the monster. They also have armor and weapons, and there are six of them. So, it should be a fair fight.
Nice thing about hallways—there isn’t really room for multiple people to fight without getting in each other’s way. The boys on my flank make a big, big mistake pulling out batons and then crowding in close. Maybe they panicked or just got mad. It’s the easiest thing in the world to duck under their swings and take out their legs. Sweeps don’t do the damage they do on Earth—no one has enough weight on their legs—but they take a lot longer to finish falling down. While those two are busy being a physics experiment, I turn back to my pal with the shock gloves.
He moves to grapple me, and I duck low and deliver a hard strike just under his breastplate. The smart fiber hardens, like it would if it were hit by a bullet. It also stops him from moving. All I have to do to keep him frozen is keep hitting him as hard and as fast as I can. I deliver a brutal combination to his suit while his pals come in from behind.
I brace against the wall and swing the stiff suit, using him as a bludgeon to knock the other two sprawling. Then I swing him around to send his other two friends flying back.
The little security bot had been beeping and whistling, unable to engage without hitting any friendlies. Now it can attack me. I use the guard to pummel the bot, knocking it over and covering it with the unconscious man.
I was wrong; it isn’t a fair fight. They should have brought more.
The other five are starting to get up. Two are drawing pistols, and one pops a knife.
Nope.
I go for the one with the knife. He thrusts up, and I rotate away, catch his arm, and strip the knife. The two with pistols can’t get a clean shot while we struggle. I spin him around, facing the other guards while I catch the slowly falling knife with my other hand. Everything is moving so slowly now, I have all the time in the world.
This isn’t just a knife; it’s a mono-atomic-edge diamond combat blade, and it will go through combat armor like butter. Thanks, pal.
I slash open the atmosphere system in his armor so he can take a deep breath of the sleepy gas. While he chokes on that, he is still useful as a battering ram as I charge the others, knocking them down. One of their pistols goes off and burns their buddy’s armor.
With everyone flailing for balance or falling slowly, I have time to work. I move in with the blade. With this, I’m like another kind of doctor, one that takes people apart rather than putting them back together. I cut open armor seals, cut open a visor, slash open an arm, and cut and wrench off a mask. They sit there gasping on the gas their little bot is still pumping out.
Down the hall, I can see a big, heavy security door start to come down. I reach out and grab the little bot and hurl it down the hall. It bounces twice, and rolls, beeping and whistling outrageously the whole way. It comes to a stop directly under the door, and its armored chassis bends as it holds the door up.
I race forward and slide under the heavy door as it begins to crush the small robot. Thanks, little buddy.
I can see what I was looking for—the doors ahead for the other elevator. All traffic has to go through a security floor to leave. No single elevator or shaft goes to the top. It’s protection in case some maniac hijacks an elevator or something.
This is my ticket out of here, if I can just get through it before the rest of the guards show up. The big security doors are down around me, sealing me off, but keeping the other guards away. When they come up, I’ll have lots of company. I need to be out of here by then.
* * * * *
Chapter 15
The air feels dry, and my vision keeps trying to go out of focus. I smell something that seems vaguely familiar and strange all at the same time. I have no idea what they are pumping into the air, but the monster handles it just fine.
I listen at the elevator doors and knock so I can hear the echo. There is air on the other side, which is never certain on Luna. It’s always good to know before opening a strange hatch on the moon.
I get out the blade. You will be surprised by its many uses. I remember that from somewhere. Is my memory coming back? Bits and pieces keep coming back and falling into place. I certainly remember how to break into a hatch.
I can probably get through the elevator doors; they’re not heavy security seals like the ones locking me into this hall. I put my ear to the walls and hear the hum of the power systems. Sliding the atomic edge into the frame, I cut the power cables for the door rails. The doors are still sealed, of course. On Luna, you always have a tight atmospheric seal with every hatch, or you die. I run the blade down the seal of the door, and hear the faint hiss of atmosphere as I break the seal. There is pressure on the other side, for sure, so I’ll live at least a few minutes more.
I reach into the slight crack and strain to pull the doors open. Behind them are the next set. I have to keep forcing the first set open while I work on the second set. You just don’t have doors that hang open on the moon. I can feel vibrations of feet approaching as I get the second set of doors open.
I glide inside, and the doors seal behind me. This looks like your standard elevator, with room for several people or cargo, complete with fake wood paneling. I cut open part of the panels covering the door rails. I slice the rails and then bend the metal rail into the tracks. Now, they won’t be able to force the doors; they will have to cut through.
Or shoot through. I can hear them on the other side of the doors, trying to force them open. I cut open the top panel. The elevator probably isn’t in a vacuum shaft. I hope.
It isn’t. I’m still breathing. I jump up and pull myself through the hole into the darkened shaft above. Echoing booms sound as railguns blast through the doors below me.
Above me, the shaft rises another ten stories. Rings of magnets and drive rails line the sides, and faint red indicator lights provide all the light my eyes need. Compared to my last climb, this will be a cinch. I put the blade’s handle in my mouth; the blade would cut my jaw clean off. I jump, soaring most of the way in one jump. I climb the rails easily as I hear powered cutters on the doors below.
I brace myself at the top doors and listen. There is air on the other side, and a lot of people moving around as well. Some kind of alarm is sounding.
I get out my blade and slice through the cables and locks that hold the doors shut. Then, I clench the blade handle in my teeth again as I force open the doors.
Light blasts into the tunnel. Shocked staff in medical garb fill the branching halls, along with patients on mobile beds and Lunar citizens in casual clothes. Everyone is staring in horror at the half-naked madman with a knife coming out of the empty elevator shaft.
* * * * *
Chapter 16
A hospital. A real hospital, with real doctors and real patients. They figured they could hide their murder-lab in plain sight. What kind of coward hides under a hospital?
Everyone freaks out and starts running, pedaling in slow-motion, trying to get a grip on the floor in the low gravity. Medical staff and patients collide together and fall in slow motion, all scrambling to get away from me. I must look pretty bad—half naked, clenching a knife in my teeth, splashed with blood, and claws…real claws on my hands. At least I have pants.
Alarms strobe from the ceiling, lighting the white halls in flashes of bright yellow, and klaxons sound their harsh call. Everyone starts moving fast, getting up and running away in low bounds. As I climb out of the shaft, a thunderous roar echoes from a railgun below. “He’s got a gun!” someone screams, and all order dissolves.
I hear someone climbing up the elevator shaft. I throw the knife down there and hear a cry of pain. As he falls, he collides with others in a tangle.
Overhead lights start moving along the ceiling in colored chaser patterns toward the exits as e
veryone runs away, tripping over each other. I take a look at a nearby floating hologram of the hospital’s floor plan. It looks like it will be tight getting out. If the security teams aren’t stupid, they probably have at least two guys at every exit already.
I start making my way toward one of the emergency airlocks. There will be emergency suits ready, and those airlocks cannot be sealed in the event of an emergency. Going out on the surface beats the alternatives. If I get in a crowded transit tunnel, they’ll probably panic and start shooting. I can’t jack a vehicle’s systems without equipment. So, the surface. Besides, I want to see the sun again.
No point trying to hide; the computers will be tracking my image from camera to camera, and passing that information off to the security staff. Time is running out.
I head for the emergency exit, passing a few beds and staff helping patients. No one gets in my way. It’s less crowded in this direction; most people must be heading to the tubes. I can hear two men coming toward me from around the corner. I hear them draw weapons. Must be guards.
I charge into them. A sonic screamer goes past my head and cracks the overhead lights which flicker madly. The other guard drops his handgun from the impact. These guys are a lot slower than the boosted thugs below, a couple of quick nerve cluster hits puts them both to sleep. I remind myself to go easy on these guys; they probably don’t know about the murder-lab in the basement. As I move on, I leave the gear. None of it would recognize me, and it could be full of trackers.
I come to a traffic jam of patients and staff across the corridor. They take one look at me, and everyone suddenly decides they need to be somewhere else fast. They all look like they’ve seen a monster or something. I push my way through the rest with an “excuse me” and continue toward the exit.
I’m getting close to the exit. I can smell the faint gunpowder scent of fresh regolith and ozone from the charged air scrubbers trying to keep the place dust free. The air has that chill bite that hovers around all airlocks. The way out is around the corner and down the hall. I can hear two guards by the airlock.
I grab one of the wheeled beds. There’s a lot of heavy equipment on it, and when I fold it sideways, it should give me good cover. If they are using screamers like the other guards, it should stop their fire. If they are using railguns, it’s all over. Since I know the thugs coming up from below have real weapons I push ahead.
I roll the bed ahead of me as I go down the corridor, and I take cover behind it, trusting my hearing and the vibrations in the soles of my feet to tell me where the guards are.
“Halt!” they cry out.
When I keep going, the shooting starts. Sonic screamers buzz into the bed, setting it vibrating and my teeth on edge. I guessed right. Railguns are rare on Luna; when you live in vacuum, most people don’t like weapons that can punch through walls.
As I get closer, they start to split apart to hit me on the flanks. I push the bed at one, knocking him down while I leap at the other. He has his screamer drawn and leveled at my center of mass.
I’m stronger and faster, but nothing can change my course in midair, and he’s already pulling the trigger. I don’t hear the screamer; I don’t hear anything at all. Sound and feeling just go away, replaced by an icy numbness. My brain wants to shut down and go someplace where this isn’t happening.
The monster won’t let me; it wants to keep fighting. Instead of collapsing like a limp rag-doll, I tackle the guard and slam him up against the wall. His vest keeps his ribs from breaking, but all the air goes out of him. I strip the gun and knock him out with another blow.
The other guard makes the mistake of trying to grab a screamer off the floor rather than draw a new weapon. My side kick puts him out.
Other people are coming; I can feel their footsteps through the floor. Lots of guards coming from each side hall, and the thugs from below are coming in from behind. Time to go.
I pull the lever on the emergency airlock. New alarms flash as I swing the heavy hatch open. I step into the airlock and slam the hatch behind me.
* * * * *
Chapter 17
My breath steams in the airlock’s chill air, and I open the emergency suit locker. I step into the locker, putting my hands and feet into the gloves and boots, and my head into the racked helmet. Precious seconds go by as the smart cloth emerges and wraps over me in a skin-tight seal. The suit is an insulated, puncture resistant, tight-fitting body glove of elastic material that moves with me as I step back into the airlock.
The indicators on the helmet are all good—clean air, about ten minutes’ worth—and the suit’s emergency beacon begins to broadcast my location to all of Luna. I’ll have to do something about that later. Just in case it isn’t easy enough to find me, the entire suit begins to glow a fluorescent orange, and a flashing strobe blinks on my helmet.
Crap.
The airlock lever begins to move; they are trying to get in. I hold it still, keeping the lock sealed as I reach for the controls. I begin the cycle. Air pressure drops in the lock, preventing them from opening the doors. Water vapor condenses on the walls, turns to ice, then mists away in the hard vacuum.
While it’s doing that, I jam the lock on the door leading back to the hospital. They won’t be able to cut through that heavy metal; they will have to go around.
When that’s done, the pressure has equalized. I pull the latch on the outer hatch, and it swings open soundlessly to reveal the gray lunar landscape.
Lights from the hospital blaze out into the dark, barren moonscape. The gray material is packed down around the hospital by the constant traffic, and recent footprints and tire tracks crisscross the packed regolith. Beyond, I can see filled craters, low humps where regolith has covered piping or tubes, and the hardened, white, lunar asphalt roads. There is no visible cover or concealment larger than a small boulder or shallow trench. In the distance, the land fades to a deep black, lit only by the few artificial stars of lamps and windows from distant buildings. I came all this way to see the sun, and it’s nowhere to be found in the starry sky.
I have no way to tell if there are hospital guards or thugs from the murder-lab waiting for me outside the hospital. The silence is absolute. I need to go, or I’ll be trapped in here.
I leap out, soaring in a long, low arc in the low gravity. The gray moonscape flies by under me. I land, and a cloud of regolith sprays up around me, then falls back to the ground without raising a cloud of dust. Everything is gray and black. The shadows are absolute; there is no way to tell if a shadow is a shallow crater or a deep hole that could break a leg.
I look around to get my bearings. Behind me, the hospital rises in a three-story block of sloped, lunar steel. Its bright, hard lights cast long, black shadows. I can’t see the tubes, they are all buried, but most people are probably leaving through those long, low berms covering the transit tubes. Vehicles are leaving the top of the hospital, angular boxes rising silently on streams of faint blue light. Any color stands out. Like my suit, a glowing orange beacon, impossible to miss.
As I look around the lunar town, memories come back with recognition. I escape from the darkness and come to the only place on Luna where the sun never shines. I’m in Shackleton. Lights from the half-buried buildings, low towers, and domes light up the perpetual darkness of the crater in the distance. Shackleton is a city in perpetual night—all darkness with a few lights desperately warding off the shadows. Everything was originally built in permanent shadow to get at the ice deposits and also to hide from the sun’s proton-flux. The lights of the buildings stretch on for kilometers, and the central mound is covered in the shining towers of the central district, gleaming with sunlight at their heights. Rising up for kilometers on every side are the highlands of the crater rim. The top ridges practically glow with sunlight and are bathed in light all month long. There I can see the flash of crystalline greenhouses, and the tall solar towers and heat exchangers reaching for the perfect black sky. Above it all is the eternal night sky, studded with
diamond-hard stars. Both the sun and Earth are hidden by the crater rim.
In the darkness, the lights from my suit will be visible for kilometers across the low, flat, featureless terrain. In the distance, beyond the bright lights, I see a depression that should be able to hide me, if it’s deep enough. Speed is my only chance. I need to get to get to cover fast. I leap in a series of long low bounds that eat up the distance. No one runs on the moon; you move fast with hard jumps with both feet. I begin breathing hard, sucking up the suit’s meager oxygen, and it beeps a protest. The inside of my helmet fogs up with condensation.
Behind me, several suited figures are leaving the hospital, heading my way. Are they guards? Police? Or killers from the lab? I can’t tell through the foggy faceplate.
Ahead of me, flashing lights are descending in slow graceful arcs. Police vehicles and drones. I jump harder. I’ll use up all my oxygen if I need to.
My suit radio lights up. It is probably saying something like “Halt or we will fire.” It’s a shame I’m deaf from the screamers right now. I keep going. Almost there.
A towering plume of regolith erupts next to me. Railgun, has to be. I stop cold. There’s no dodging computer-controlled fire like that. They meant to miss. If I don’t give myself up, the next shot won’t miss, and I’ll be a cloud of red mist freezing into ice and settling out on the lunar surface.
Warrior- Integration Page 4