Unchained_ A science fiction romance adventure Page 10

  If she and Keiko could find gas masks, they could go in person to the shuttle bay where the cyborgs had gathered to fight. Then they could hurl the vials at their feet. That would ensure the gas wouldn’t be too weak by the time it reached their noses.

  Skylar imagined the fleet soldiers, men who were storming the asteroid in combat armor with independent oxygen supplies, stomping in and capturing the sleeping cyborgs. That would end all this.

  And what then? Would all the cyborgs be killed for their presumptuousness? Would Cortez be locked up here in one of the cells? That end did seem inevitable for him if he lost this gamble.

  And would Skylar then be stuck here for the six months of her research assignment, having to walk past his cell every day and look into his eyes? Or would she be too cowardly to look into his eyes? Would she look at the deck and avoid glancing in his direction?

  She couldn’t imagine walking up behind Cortez, throwing a vial down, and watching as he and his men passed out. Better to use the ventilation system. She hated the idea of doing this at all, but if she didn’t, wasn’t she betraying the edicts of Colonial law? All of civilized society? What if the word got out that she’d stood back and let the cyborgs win when she could have stopped them? What would her colleagues think? Her parents? Her sister never would have hesitated in this situation. She had always done what was expected of her.

  Skylar turned again to Branigan’s computer and poked around. She expected passcodes and retina scans, but maybe he hadn’t believed anyone would try to access the asteroid’s network through his station. She found she could get into the programs that controlled the station’s infrastructure without trouble. She also could have turned off all the lights throughout the prison, but what good would that do? Besides alerting the cyborgs that someone was messing with things.

  She located the ventilation system controls. The fans and filters were more intricately designed than she would have expected, almost as if the architects had anticipated the need to do exactly what she’d been planning, to gas the inmates—or specific parts of the prison—if there was a breakout. Maybe they had. If she and Keiko had gone up to the armory or a chemical storage room somewhere, maybe they would have found the equivalent of the concoction Skylar had spent hours making.

  “There,” she whispered, wriggling her fingers in the air to display a holographic map of the ventilation system. She programmed in a route and commands for select fans to turn on so they would usher her gas right to the shuttle bay. And to the corridor outside the shuttle bay. Earlier, she’d accessed the prison’s cameras, and knew that was where most of the cyborgs were making their stand.

  It would be easier than she had expected to distribute her gas through the vents to them. The sickbay was on the same level as the shuttle bay. She wouldn’t need to go to a central distribution area, and she wouldn’t need to walk up and look any cyborgs in the eyes to gas them.

  Skylar sank back in the chair and propped her chin on her fist. She eyed the vials, eyed the floating vent map, and deliberated. If she did nothing, it was a betrayal to Colonial law, doing nothing to prevent a crime when she could have. If she sent out the gas, it would be a betrayal to Cortez and his comrades, men who’d fought and risked their lives so humanity could remain free.

  She closed her eyes. Even if it might make her a hero back home, at least for a time, and even if it might actually prompt her parents to comm her for a chat, she didn’t think she could do it. Those cyborgs—those human beings—deserved what Cortez was asking for. He wasn’t asking for a world. He was just asking for a ship. And offering to remove a problem. What he wanted to do could actually help humanity.

  Assuming he wasn’t lying. Skylar frowned, realizing she couldn’t truly know that. And yet, she trusted that he was telling the truth, as she’d trusted him before.

  Seconds ticked past, and she did nothing.

  The doors swished open, and Keiko stepped inside. Skylar jumped to her feet, moving to stand in front of the map so Keiko wouldn’t know she’d discovered a way to do exactly what they had discussed.

  The distant sound of gunfire floated into sickbay, a reminder that they weren’t far from the shuttle bay, that it wouldn’t be hard to send the gas over there.

  “Still clear out there, but there’s definitely some heavy fighting going on,” Keiko reported. She had been standing watch while Skylar worked, sometimes from inside sickbay and sometimes from the corridor outside.

  “Any idea who’s winning?” Skylar could have brought up the internal cameras again on Branigan’s computer, but if Cortez and his men were being pummeled, she didn’t want to see it. And if the fleet soldiers were being ripped apart by superhuman cyborgs, she didn’t want to see that, either. Maybe she was a fool for not disseminating the gas and putting a stop to the battle raging out there.

  “No,” Keiko said. “I didn’t dare go look. If the cyborgs see us roaming around out here, they’ll lock us up again.” She pointed toward the office area. “I’m glad you took that holo of the half-dissected brain down.” Her gaze dipped to the desk. “Any progress?”

  Skylar realized she should have been standing in front of the row of neat—and finished-looking—vials rather than the diagram of the ventilation system.

  “Yes.”

  Keiko was coming for a closer look, and Skylar didn’t think she could lie about the vials being ready, not when she’d already put away the tools and compounds she had used.

  “Good. What do we have to do?”

  “I don’t think there’s any way we can just throw the vials into the ventilation system and hope to get lucky,” Skylar said, feeling horrible about lying and hoping Keiko wouldn’t notice how bad she was at it. “What we can do is sneak up behind the cyborgs and throw the vials at their feet. They should be fragile enough to break open when they hit the floor. But we’re going to need gas masks, or we’ll knock ourselves out too. Maybe that wouldn’t be a big deal, since the fleet soldiers are in armor and won’t be affected, but I’d rather not be drooling on the floor when they come in. If one of those armored boots stepped on your arm, it would break your bones.”

  Keiko snorted. “Yeah, my vote is for staying conscious. Gas masks, huh?” She looked around sickbay, toward cabinets on one of the walls. “Have you already looked in here?”

  “Yes.” This time, Skylar didn’t have to lie. She had perused all the storage cabinets when she’d been looking for ingredients, and she hadn’t seen gas masks.

  “Hm.” Keiko looked around sickbay again, then snapped her fingers. “Spacesuits would work, right? There are some back in the shuttle. Remember when the cyborgs dragged some out of the lockers to make room to stuff us in?”

  “The shuttle in the shuttle bay in the middle of a battle, right now?”

  Skylar hoped Keiko wouldn’t realize she was trying to delay things. So far, her arguments had been rational. The only bit of dishonesty was in saying that they needed masks in the first place.

  “Ah, right,” Keiko said. “But I’m sure this asteroid needs exterior repairs now and then. There must be spacesuits around. You find something to pack those vials in so they won’t break by accident. I’ll try to find a couple of suits while the cyborgs are busy fighting out there.”

  Keiko rushed back out into the corridor without waiting for a response.

  Skylar let out a slow breath, eyeing the map of the ventilation system again. She left it and the fan program she’d created up in case something changed and she needed access to them quickly, but she also brought up the camera feeds again.

  As she opened the one for the corridor outside the shuttle bay, an explosion went off.

  Skylar flattened her hands on the vials to keep them from rolling off the desk. Even in sickbay, the floor quaked and cabinets flew open.

  On the display, the shuttle bay back wall blew, hurling debris in all directions. The cyborgs that had crouched there were flung backward, rubble burying them.

  Skylar looked for Cortez and Jerick
but didn’t see them. Could they already have been killed? Or captured?

  Even though she should have wanted that, should have wanted the cyborgs defeated and her freedom and safety back, a knot of worry tightened her stomach. Skylar didn’t want anyone to lose this battle. She wanted the cyborgs to live and to also find freedom.

  She hung her head, fearing that could never happen.

  9

  A faint rumbling and grinding of solid stone emanated from behind a wall as Jerick and Cortez stepped out of the lift on the top floor of the asteroid facility. It didn’t sound like the tunnel borer would break through in the next few seconds, but it definitely wouldn’t be long.

  “This way,” Cortez said, taking the lead.

  Jerick let him. They weren’t far from C&C, but that was about all Jerick knew. Despite having lived in Antioch for two years, he had never seen a map of the place and didn’t know how far from the asteroid’s surface they were. How far had this tunnel-burrowing machine bored? And was there a strike team of men in spacesuits trailing after it?

  Cortez ran down an empty corridor, glancing through a window on the way past. “Shit, that’s going to be a problem if it breaks through on this level.”

  Jerick twitched when he passed the window and saw the people tied up inside. So that was where Cortez’s team had stashed the staff. He recognized most of them, including the surly guard Stavis. Had the floor not been quaking with the nearness of the borer, Jerick would have been tempted to detour into the room to torment him, or at least strut around in front of him. He wondered why Cortez hadn’t ordered them all put into a cell. Maybe he’d thought the fleet would want to see the hostages or that some of them could be helpful in answering questions about operations.

  Cortez slowed down, running his hand along the outer wall. Jerick wished he had a larger array of weapons. Someone had tossed him a plastech rifle and he’d managed to retain it through the chaotic battle below, but he didn’t know how well it would work on a massive robot. A grenade launcher would be preferable. He glanced at Cortez’s belt. He had a stunner in addition to his rifle, but that was it. Earlier, he’d had can-opener grenades there, but it looked like he had run out. At an inopportune time.

  When Cortez stopped, he looked uncertain. It was obvious the borer would come through via the outer wall, but even with his advanced cyborg hearing, Jerick couldn’t tell the exact location, either. They might have been right in front of the spot or twenty meters away. A door marked Lavatory was on the inner wall, but the outer one held nothing.

  “Do we think it’ll need to use the head when it arrives?” Jerick asked.

  Ignoring the question, Cortez peered up and down the corridor. Eyeing where the blast doors were located, Jerick guessed. Those would come down automatically if the station was breached.

  Cortez lifted his wristcomp. “Tek Tek? You have a minute?”

  Jerick remembered the ex-lieutenant hadn’t been in the big battle at the shuttle bay.

  “I’m here, sir,” Tek Tek spoke over the comm. “You still at the shuttle bay?”

  “No, we’ve got a tunnel borer coming in. Why do you ask?”

  “Heard the soldiers set off a bomb, and our people are digging out.”

  Cortez frowned. “I’ll check on them as soon as we deal with this. Where are you? I need help, and I need a lot of it.”

  “I’m here for you, sir,” Tek Tek said, not making any of the dozen jokes that popped into Jerick’s head at Cortez’s comment.

  “We’ve only got a few minutes before this breaks through. We passed blast doors, and I’m assuming the facility will figure out how to take care of a breach on its own, but if you get time to verify that, I’d appreciate it. Remember where Pip locked up our prisoners? They’re still there. I need somebody to check and see if they’re going to be safe if this part of the station loses atmosphere. If not, they need to be moved. I’ll comm Pip to take care of that. Jerick and I are grabbing some spacesuits, and then we’re going to stand here and hopefully destroy whatever comes through.”

  “Spacesuits?” Jerick asked. “You don’t think your tweed will be sufficient in zero atmosphere?”

  “Ha ha.” Cortez drew a dagger, cut his hand, and smeared an X on the wall in blood.

  “Some people use pens.”

  “My suit didn’t come with one.”

  “Disappointing, considering how much it probably cost. If it makes you feel better, my orange pajamas didn’t come with one, either.”

  Cortez jerked his head toward C&C and ran in that direction. The prison staff watched them run past again, their eyes large. They had to be wondering what the shaking was about. It was even more ominous than those charges the Black Star kept detonating outside the asteroid.

  “In case we don’t live through this,” Jerick called as he raced after Cortez, “it was good working with you again, sir.”

  Cortez glanced back over his shoulder. “Glad to hear it, but it’s far too early for you to think we’re going to fail.”

  “Your blood is on the wall.”

  “Only because my suit didn’t come with a pen.”

  The doors to C&C were jammed open, and they found Tek Tek inside. Cortez ran straight to a cabinet in the back, yanked the door open, and pawed through spacesuits. He’d either seen them earlier or had memorized a map of the facility and had known the locations of all the spacesuits long before he’d arrived. Jerick remembered his knack for planning ahead for every contingency and wouldn’t be surprised if it was the latter.

  Cortez tossed him a suit that looked like it might be large enough for him.

  “Wish I had some combat armor instead,” Jerick said longingly.

  “Just be glad you don’t have to run around in those neon orange pants anymore.”

  “I’m not sure this is an improvement.” Jerick slapped the bulky bottoms as he tried to stuff his muscular thighs into them—the suits hadn’t been designed with cyborg size in mind.

  Cortez threw a helmet to him. “Don’t forget to grab a tank. I don’t expect this to take long, but we may want to breathe while we fight the borer.”

  “I do enjoy breathing.”

  “You asked about the prisoners, sir,” Tek Tek said. “In their current location, they’ll be fine when the blast doors go down to contain the breach. But if something happens to the closest blast door, then they’ll be in trouble.”

  “All right,” Cortez said. “We’ll try to stop the machine, keep it from damaging more of the facility, but get Pip or Driggs up here as soon as possible to help out. I want those people moved down to one of the cells. Someplace safe.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How long do we have?” Jerick asked, struggling to get the tight suit on.

  “Hard to tell,” Tek Tek said. “The robotic borer is well-shielded, and it’s been a struggle to precisely locate it with these meager excuses for sensors, but I see where it’s coming through now. I do not detect any life signs along with it—no men in spacesuits trailing after it.”

  “No strike team?” Jerick asked. “What’s the point of it breaking through then?”

  “It could be programmed to cause as much havoc as possible,” Tek Tek said.

  “That doesn’t sound like Falconer,” Cortez said. “Nor like orders he would have gotten from above. The government would want its prison back with as few holes in it as possible.”

  “I just know it’s getting here soon,” Tek Tek said. “If you want to be there for it…”

  “Yes, we’re going.” Cortez had already put his suit on, and now he tugged the helmet over his head and activated the seals.

  Jerick hurried to get his own gear on. His suit was way too tight in the crotch and across the shoulders. He hoped he wouldn’t be stuck in it for long.

  When he was dressed, he and Cortez checked each other’s suits as they had dozens of times in the past, maybe hundreds of times, before going into combat. It had been armor then, not these flimsy spacesuits, but the purpose had bee
n the same. They’d needed to make sure everything was attached and sealed, so they were airtight in case they ended up in a zero-atmosphere environment.

  “If there are any parts of the borer that don’t get destroyed, bring them back for me to look at,” Tek Tek called as Jerick and Cortez headed for the door. “I’ve missed seeing the latest military tech.”

  “The latest vacuum tech wasn’t exciting enough?” Jerick asked.

  “It didn’t cause things to blow up very often. That was disappointing.”

  Jerick waved an acknowledgment but didn’t respond again. Cortez was already running down the corridor, and he had to hurry to catch up.

  An alarm started wailing, and the corridor lights flashed orange. It was a different warning than the one that had started blaring when Cortez’s team arrived. This wailing was shriller, more insistent.

  “A station breach is imminent,” a computerized voice announced. “Clear out of Level 1D. Containment procedures are in effect.”

  Jerick saw those procedures for himself, a control panel on a blast door up ahead of him flashing. He sprinted, realizing the door would come crashing down to seal off the corridor. Cortez was already racing under it.

  As the door lowered from the ceiling, Jerick spat, “Shit!”

  He took three great bounding steps and dove, knowing the suit wouldn’t protect him from anything greater than tiny bits of space debris. That door qualified as much more.

  Jerick made it through the gap a second before the door thudded down. A hiss sounded as a seal was activated.

  “Already trying to make it dramatic?” Cortez asked as Jerick jumped to his feet.

  “I knew you’d be devastated if you had to fight a giant robot drill by yourself, sir.”

  “Who wouldn’t be?”

  A crunch came from ahead of them, followed by a great whoosh as air was sucked out of the corridor. Jerick activated the suit’s magnetic boots, spread his legs to brace himself—there wouldn’t be a draft for long—and jammed the butt of his rifle into his shoulder.