Living in Syn (22 page)

By the
time Susan knocked on Mission's door, Carson and Montag had already been there
for ten minutes.  Montag sat on the floor and Carson leaned against the sink
while Mission and Susan sat on the bed. 

Mission
said, "Okay Susan, it's important that everyone knows the whereabouts of
all weapons and ammunition.  That way, if someone is incapacitated, the group
doesn't necessarily lose that armament.  Okay?"

She
nodded and Mission said, "Good.  Now I carry the Glock with the holster
inside my left waistband.  I carry spare clips in my two thigh patch pockets
and my two rear pockets.  Okay?  Now Carson, what about that nasty Stiletto?"

Carson
stood up and pulled back his jacket to reveal his weapon hanging under his
arm.  "She's hanging from an elastic strap around the shoulder, connected
by a magnet.  She always comes free for me, but if the snap hung up, the
elastic would stretch enough to let you fire normally.  120 rounds to the clip,
she fires 12 rounds a second.  I have two extra clips on each side of my
belt."

Mission
pulled a crate out from under his bed.  He pulled out several ultrasound
grenades. "Since Elliot tells us we may cook our brains if we absorb more
than 60 seconds every ten minutes, I see no reason for anyone to take more than
one.  But it makes sense that each of us carry at least one."

As he
handed them out, Susan said, "Why?"

Carson
answered, "Because this way, it only takes one person pulling a pin to
save us all."

Susan
took hers without comment.  Then Mission pulled out the interrupters. 
"Now each of us can take two or three of these.  Except you Montag.  We
never discussed it, but I'm pretty sure that once you arm it, it would at least
paralyze the hand that's holding it."

Susan
and Montag nodded.  As Mission passed out the interrupters, he said, "Now
don't be shy.  Better to take too many than too few.  I myself am taking the
party pack."

He
pulled out a cylinder about the size and shape of two soda cans stacked on top
of each other.  Carson asked, "What in the hell is that?"

Mission
grinned.  "Elliot made it for me.  It's a spring loaded speed dispenser. 
Holds twelve of these bad boys.  When you pull an interrupter out, the motion
automatically arms it and the spring pushes the next one up.  I just love
toys."

Montag
asked, "Is there anything else?"

Mission
said, "Yeah.  I always wear the battery pack.  It's clipped to my rear
waistband with the lead wire snaked through the coat, out the left arm.  A
pressure activated switch at the end of the lead feeds into my palm.  Tripping
the switch releases 20,000 volts."

He
turned and looked at the group.  "Let's remember that we don't trust this
guy.  The less we say to him, the less our chances of giving something away.  Carson
or I will always stay within arm's reach of him.  Susan and Montag, be
conscious of your body position and never step between the Dick and me or Carson. 
Okay?  Now I know we just sat here and went over all these weapons and now I'm
going to point you in the other direction.  Don't use them.  Don't use them
unless you have to defend the safety of the group.  We don't want to be trigger
happy.  We want to be vigilant against an attack.  Now if any of you are
familiar with Murphy's Law, then you know nothing will happen since we spent so
much time preparing.  Let's go."

Carson
and Montag moved out of the room first and as Mission started out, Susan
grabbed his hand.  When he turned around, she kissed him hard on the mouth and
said, "Mission ... I love you."

Mission
looked at her and then held her face in his hands.  "I love you too,
Susan.  This is gonna be okay."

The
group reached the cafeteria to find Denman with his feet up on the table, getting
a shoulder rub from a pleasure model who was dressed more appropriately for a
lingerie party.  Mission nodded and said, "Denman."

Denman
looked the group over carefully and then shook his head.  "What?  You guys
couldn't find an ion cannon?  Or maybe an Armored Personnel Carrier?"

Carson
said, "Well this was kinda short notice."

"Yeah. 
Well, careful is always okay with me."  Then he leered at Susan and said,
"Dr. St. Jean, may I say you look good enough to eat?"

Mission
tensed but then realized Susan could handle Denman.  As she walked past, she
virtually spat out, "Pig!"

Denman
turned and spread his hands saying, "You say it like it's a bad
thing."

He
turned to the rest of the group and said, "We might as well get moving. 
You'd better watch out Mission, she's crazy about me."

Mission stared
at him silently and then they headed for the refinery.

It was a
twenty minute walk in almost complete silence.  As they finally entered the
hallway that led to the refinery entrance, Denman took the lead.  He marched up
to the access panel and the group tightened up around him.  Denman rubbed his
hands together and said, "Nothing prepares you to break passwords like
serving a couple of years in Security Division.  They teach you everything
about encryption."

Pierce
looked on doubtfully and said, "You're sure those bay doors aren't gonna
open and suck us right out of the city?"

Denman
grinned his lascivious grin and said, "Hey.  Don't worry.  You stick with
me and we'll all get what we came for and be up to our knees in hookers in an
hour."

Susan
said, "Montag, I want a ruling.  Do we have to claim him as part of the
human race?"

The vue screen
flashed back at Denman with, "Access granted.  Safety first.  Switch to
pressure suit environment and press enter when ready."

The door
hissed as the seal released and Denman pulled it open with a flourish.  The
group moved inside and got a first look at the bay.  It was three stories high,
and each story was 15 feet tall, with catwalks all the way around on the second
and third levels, except for the bay doors.  The doors climbed all the way to
the ceiling, forty-five feet, and were a total of eighty feet wide.  The room
was octagon shaped with the doors covering two of the sides.  Apparently, the
transport vehicle pulled right into the bay and then loaded the ore directly
onto conveyor belts which ran to the actual refinery.

Down on
the floor rested a medium sized bulldozer, a small power shovel, a forklift and
odds and ends of machinery and supplies.  Like everything else in the city, the
bay was deserted.  The group moved with more confidence and reached the
midpoint of the room.

Mission
heard the whine of machinery and turned to see their entrance door close and
lock.  At the same time, a sharp crack shot across the bay and Susan screamed
while Carson yelled to take cover.  As Mission turned around, he could see
sparks radiating off Denman and glimpsed something in his peripheral vision
moving from left to right.  As Mission grabbed Susan and dove behind the
bulldozer, Carson returned fire while he moved toward the cover of the
equipment.  A shot caught him in the left shoulder and knocked him between the
dozer and a group of 55 gallon drums.

Mission
fired several shots for cover as he retrieved Carson by the collar and dragged
him to relative safety.  The ambushers crept closer and closer to them on the
catwalks, and Mission couldn't keep them all at bay.  He saw Denman stretched
out on the floor and then looked away.  Most of his thoracic and abdominal
cavities were burned away.  Just gone.  People talk all the time about dying
instantly.  It almost never happens.  The brain has to oxygen starve for almost
five minutes before it shuts down.  Five minutes to realize the rest of you is
gone.  Five minutes to think about the fact that no one is going to drag you to
cover, is going to mop your brow, is going to put a cigarette in your mouth
even if you can't smoke it.  He never had a chance.  They killed him because he
was first in line and it would distract the group long enough to lock down the
exit.

Mission
got a clean shot at a male on the second catwalk and caught him in the face. 
He screamed but didn't go down.  It would be next to impossible to put a combat
model down at this range, unless you had the luxury of shooting them eight to
ten times.  Pierce screamed as Susan ran a scarf through his wound trying to
clean out the burning phosphorous particles.  Where the hell was Montag? 
Mission pushed Susan's head down as the syns realized the group was helpless
and stepped up their fire.  The air crackled around them from the release of
ionized particles as shots hit the dozer.

Just
when Mission thought it was hopeless, it got even worse.  A deafening siren
erupted and a computer voice announced that docking was initiated and the bay doors
would open in two minutes.  Of course.  That's why they weren't dead already. 
The ambushers just wanted to pin them down until the doors opened.  No matter
how thorough the autopsies, they would never show any more than simple
asphyxiation.  A tragic accident.  No one was sure how they got into the bay or
why they opened the doors.

Mission
grabbed Carson.  "I need cover.  We can't drop these combat models fast
enough with the guns.  I need to shake hands with them."

He
pulled out an interrupter.  Susan said, "He’s lost a lot of blood!"

Carson
pushed her aside and brought the Stiletto up.  He tried to smile and said,
"Say when."

Mission
plucked an ultrasound grenade off his shirt and rolled it behind the drums so
the syns wouldn't shoot it.  He looked at Susan and said, "Have extra
clips ready for Car."

He
looked at Carson and said, "Don't shoot me."

He
grinned as Carson lit up the catwalks with his weapon set on automatic. 
Mission had never tried anything like this, but he argued with himself that
such a fact was no reason to not try.  He snuck a quick look down at his gravity
shoes, nodded, and then exploded into a run. As he reached the bay doors he
sped up and ran right up them and pulled a sweeping left turn to bring him
above the second catwalk running full speed across the wall, parallel to the
ground.

The
accursed computer voice told them that in one minute thirty seconds, they would
all be well on their way to a funeral in space.  It seemed everyone on the
catwalks was frozen.  Good.  Humans sprinkled into the assault group would
probably have killed him, even with Carson's fire which now focused on doing as
much damage as possible on the opposite side of the room.

Mission
came to the first syn on the catwalk and slapped an interrupter on his back. 
He was running too fast and didn't have the rhythm down.  He couldn't get
another interrupter out in time for the next syn, so he put his elbow out and
slammed her off the catwalk.  As he planted an interrupter on the third syn, he
could sense Carson peppering the fallen female with shot after shot.

Mission
was always disturbed by the irrelevant claptrap that floated through his mind
when he should be absolutely focused.  So instead of just planting the
interrupters as fast as possible, he kept wondering how long he had until the
ultrasound stopped, and what he would do at that point.

He moved
closer to one of the speakers in the bay and the siren vibrated right through
his skull.  The sadistic computer voice reminded them that they had sixty
seconds to live. How many syns had he disabled so far? Six, perhaps seven? That
would make this next one number eight, a female with blond hair. As he rounded
the octagon corner, and onto the next wall, he closed to arm's length, and she
came alive.  She slapped him hard in the shoulder and the impact threw him
against the wall so hard that he bounced back toward her.  He reached out with
his left arm holding the interrupter and she knocked his arm up with a sweep of
her right hand.  Mission felt his arm snap on impact, but his hand flying up
brushed her face and he released the interrupter.  She collapsed in a heap,
taking Mission down with her.

As he
struggled to free himself, he noticed the bay looked like the Fourth of July.  Carson
definitely made the operation difficult for the syns.  A shot from across the
bay hit so close to Mission that the sparks flying off the railing burned him. 
He knew the next shot would hit him and he jumped off the catwalk without even
looking.  Reduced gravity will fool you. You feel so light that you find
yourself thinking that a fall can’t hurt you. But your mass is still exactly
the same and the collision with the ground is still brutal. Mission hit the top
of the forklift with his upper back which spun him around and threw him face first
into the driver controls.

Mission
went under for a moment and his own scream brought him back.  Carson pulled
with all his might on Mission's leg and his body jerked free of the forklift
controls and fell to the floor.  Carson squeezed off an impossible shot through
the wire mesh roof of the forklift, through the catwalk railing and into the
eye of a male kneeling down.  It was a direct hit and the syn flew across the
bay and slammed the far wall, motor groups still churning.  As Carson dragged
Mission behind the dozer, the computer voice cheerfully reminded them that the
bay doors would introduce them to their mortician in forty-five seconds.

The syns
on the left side of the bay increased the pressure as several of them moved
much closer to the dozer.  Mission and Carson fired in desperation when Susan
screamed.  A male held her by the hair on the back of her head, out at arm's
length.  As Mission turned with the Glock, the syn pivoted Susan around between
them so that a clear shot wasn't possible.  The computer voice gleefully
announced that all their worldly troubles would end in thirty short seconds. 
The syn stiffened his right finger and as he started to bring it up to Susan's
face, she stopped fighting the arm that held her and slapped him in the face. 
That's great Susan.  Slap a combat model.  Only now it slumped to the floor. 
Susan screamed as they hit the floor and the impact yanked out part of her
hair.  As the syn rolled over, Mission saw the disk on his face.  Susan had
slapped him with an interrupter.