CHAPTER 8: THE SERVER ROOM.
"What shall we do now?" Clemency asked her boss. She wasn't showing much of that go-getting management spirit this trip was supposed to demonstrate.
I coughed, drawing attention to myself. "We're still gonna rescue Âgustin's lot – or at least check if they're still alive. C'mon guys, we can't leave them at the mercy of these monsters, can we?"
I'm not sure if Çrámerr could care less – after all Âgustin wasn't a corporate man working for Economou. But he caught the look in my eyes and didn't say anything. Clemency looked unhappy. She would much rather head for home. Can't say I blamed her. Given the choice, so would I, but I had a million riding on finding Âgustin and I wasn't passing up that amount.
To avoid any argument, I got behind the wheel and keyed in the coordinates provided. The GPS took a few seconds and provided a route. I put the selector to 'Drive' and rolled out. Well, rolled isn't the right word. Ker-chunk, ker-chunk, ker-chunk came from the chewed-up tyres as the Steg juddered forwards. Not even the Steg's suspension could cope with that. Behind me, my passengers clung onto anything they could find.
Our route took us generally eastwards, away from the city centre, and downhill. We skirted a collapsed brick-built building – lightning strike, I wondered – which was thickly coated with bryophytes. Rain pelted down so I put the windscreen wipers on overtime. What a world! Why anyone would fight for possession of this continent beats me. If I lived here, I'd be on the first space flight out. Preferably to a desert world where at least two suns shine all day. Peering through the windscreen I couldn't see any trace of this star's red glow.
Ker-chunk, ker-chunk, ker-chunk. I hoped that one of the tyres wouldn't strip itself. It didn't. After making only one wrong turn, I found the food processing plant. It was protected by a rusted, tumble-down chain-link fence. No defence against the Steg's might. With a bigger ker-chunk than normal, we trundled over the remains and pulled up outside a loading bay.
"We're here. Let's do our good deed for the day and rescue Âgustin and friends."
"Are there any Krillaz out there?" Clemency called.
I visually scanned the immediate area and also did a heat-seeking infra-red scan as well. "Not that I can see. Anyway, we won't be long. Either we'll find Âgustin and his buddies – or their bodies. Then we'll head home."
We reloaded our weapons. I was disturbed at how low our ammo supply had become. We'd gone through some fire-storms earlier and ammo conservation hadn't been top of our priorities. Looking at their faces, I saw that neither was 100% enthused about going in. Truth to tell, neither was I. If it hadn't been for the lure of a million Hydrans, we'd be high-tailing it for home now.
A red cross on a storage compartment marked the location of our medical supplies. Opening it, I took out three syringes of super-stim. One of those miracles of modern medicine. It stops you feeling exhausted and dead-beat. Makes you feel like a tiger in other words, ready to take on the world. Of course the effects are temporary – after they've worn off you sleep like a log.
I offered them both super-stim. A few minutes later, all their doubts and fears vanished.
"Yee-haa – let's bag ourselves some Krillaz," Çrámerr shouted, punching the air. Now he was back to his usual alpha-male personality. I couldn't wait for this trip to all be over when he'd be snoring on a bunk at the back.
Opening up the Steg, I ran out into the deluge, up a ramp and tried the loading bay. Nothing hi-tech like a force-field on this world. It was just the usual massive roller-shutter, now badly corroded. Inset was a smaller pedestrian door. Raising my foot, I kicked it open. It crashed back into the main gate, bouncing back towards me. Despite the easy access, I wasn't sure if that was a good sign. If I could get in so easily, then so could rat-men.
My Hi-Ripper pointing in all directions I stepped into the gloomy interior with Çrámerr and Clemency only a few steps behind. It was a vast grey space, filled with huge vats where bacterial sludge had been prepared. Even now, there was a faint, sweetish odour from the sludge in the air – reminiscent of a distillery. Looking up, I spotted ruined, leaking pipes and tubing hanging from the ceiling. Light filtered in through mossy plexi-glass panels and roof-lights.
Pausing, I signalled for the others to wait. They stopped, their weapons at the ready. "Listen," I hissed, "can you hear anything?"
Even with our aural implants set to maximum, I heard nothing out of the ordinary. Only water dripping, in the far distance a shutter slamming back and forth in the wind. Most importantly, we couldn't hear any machinery operating which was a bad sign. I thought if Âgustin had got some bacteria on the go, then he could survive indefinitely. It wouldn't have been tasty – usually, the sludge is taken to other factories to be processed into whatever foodstuff is required – but it was still edible.
However, I wasn't about to give up so easily. If I wanted that million, I needed Âgustin and proof of his death would still give me a half mil. I gestured towards a row of offices on a mezzanine floor at the far end of the factory. If I was going to hole up here, that is where I'd head.
Pointing, I whispered, "Look out for booby-traps."
They nodded understanding. In single-file, we crossed the factory floor, passing an overturned fork-lift. Our boots crunched over grit and debris as we did so. Despite having our enhanced senses set to max, we didn't detect any Krillaz but all of us felt a sense of threat, of impending doom. Yes, even with super-stim coursing through our veins. It could have been the after-effects from the slaughter in the City Hall playing on our minds, but I'm not sure. More than once, we wheeled around, as if sensing evil ratty eyes glaring at us.
Reaching a metal staircase leading to a gantry walkway, we climbed up one at a time and then followed the wall around to the offices. On the other side, I heard the never-ending gale buffeting rain water against the wall. What a world.
Despite our fears, we reached the offices. "Stop!" I commanded. Old bloodstains coated the walls as well as a handful of Krilla bones. Shards of metal lay sprinkled about. I stooped and touched the blood. Even with the damp atmosphere, the blood was dry. So the Krillaz hadn't attacked here any time recently.
Inching forwards, I conducted a fingertip search the width of the gantry. After a few minutes, I found a filament-thin trip-wire stretching across. Carefully stepping over it I carried on with my search and found a second line a few metres further on. Whoever had set these booby-traps knew what they were doing. By now, I was at the office area so, pointing out the filaments to Çrámerr and Clemency, we rejoined safely.
I didn't hold out much hope, but I still called out, "Âgustin? Âgustin? Are you here?"
All the same, I figured that we were wasting our time here. Sure, this was Âgustin's last known location, but there was nothing to say he'd stayed here, especially if he hadn't been able to get the sludge machines working again. All the same, he should have left further coordinates. Pushing open doors, we came across a workers' canteen with all the tables and chairs overturned, a billings office, a big laboratory for quality testing. With every door opened, I felt more and more despondent as I saw my chance of earning a million becoming more remote.
We were more than half way along the corridor. The next door, far more solid than the rest, still bore the sign 'Server Room'. That seemed more hopeful than the other rooms. Holding valuable computers, server rooms are always secure – armoured against sabotage, some even have their own environmental controls as well as the more usual cooling systems. If your back's to the wall, it's a good place to make your last stand. I tried the handle. It was locked.
"Shall I?" Çrámerr offered, aiming his weapon at the lock.
"One moment," I said. No way did I want him spraying 10mm slugs all over the place. I raised my hand and rapped on the door. It felt solid to me – not giving so much as a millimetre. I knocked again, not really expecting anything. Turning away, I was about to suggest we check the last few rooms first when my aural implant picked up a sound from the se
rver room. A slow, dragging shuffle.
Our nerves were keyed to the highest pitch. Our fingers tightened on the triggers. What was on the other side? All of us expected some evil, old rat-men ready to spring at our throats. A weak, quavering voice belonging to an old man answered. "Is anyone there – please, is anyone there?"
Horrified, we were struck dumb.
"Answer... please, someone answer. Or am I hearing things?" the voice tailed off. Through the thick door, we were barely able to hear it."
Licking my bone-dry lips I answered the voice. "Âgustin? Is that you?"
"Oh, yes, yes, thank you," the weak voice sobbed.
"Can you let us in? Or shall we break down the door?" I asked. I saw Çrámerr aiming his 10mm at the door and shook my head.
There was a click as Âgustin unlatched the secure room and pulled it open. We were all shocked by what we saw. In front of us was a skeleton of a man. Âgustin was at the last extremity of starvation. His face a skull – all angles and hollowed out cheeks. Two fever-bright eyes burned beneath a domed forehead covered only by a few limp strands of white-grey hair. His lipless mouth was upturned in a grin – not because he was glad to see us – but because starvation causes that look.
He wasn't wearing armour – he couldn't have carried the weight – and his ribs stuck out painfully beneath his shirt. His fingers gripping the edge of the door were no more than twigs and I thought one sharp tap would break them.
"You've come – you've come at last. By Sol Invicta, you've come." With that, Âgustin burst into tears.
Looking beyond him I saw the comms room was filled floor to ceiling with racks of computer terminals, all long dead and no blinking lights. When this factory was in operation, these computers would have controlled the vats, making sure that the bacterial sludge was exactly the right consistency and temperature. Others would have been in charge of ordering in supplies, issuing invoices, shift rotas etc. Now they were all dead as a rock orbiting the furthest reaches of a solar system.
Supporting his arm, I stepped into the room and was immediately struck by a foul stench. Even setting my nasal filters to minimum didn't help. It still stunk. Trapped inside, one corner had been used as a toilet, but that didn't explain it all. Dragged behind a bank of terminals was a body. Like Âgustin's it was more of a skeleton than a man and his arms had been crossed over his chest. Water dripping from a broken ceiling pipe puddled near the corpse.
"Vernoff?" I whispered.
Âgustin nodded. I looked away, not wanting to linger over teeth marks on the body's arms and legs. I shuddered at the hunger-pains that had driven Âgustin to do such a thing.
"Only be a few minutes," I called out to Çrámerr and Clemency outside.
"Don't be long – I don't like it here," Clemency replied.
That didn't come as the biggest surprise in the galaxy as I wasn't laughing fit to burst myself. There wasn't much I could do for Âgustin. His body was too frail for super-stim or anything aggressive like that so I gave him two rehydration tablets and concentrated nutrients washed down with water from my canteen. That should help. He nodded his thanks.
Nothing I could do for the unfortunate Vernoff so I left him. Krillaz would make short work of his bones – and any evidence against Âgustin. Still supporting my client, I helped him out onto the walkway. He looked at the others broadcast information and I thought he was going to break down again. "Thanks for coming," he sobbed as I led him away along the walkway. We reached the staircase, Çrámerr taking point this time. Even with everything that had happened, even seeing Âgustin's condition, the man was loving it.
The man should have joined the Space-Marines instead of a corporation like Economou – he'd have made full Commander in no time.
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