Athena's Ashes (30 page)

Dammit
. She did not have time for this. Viktis did not have time for this.

“Work, damn you,” she ordered, shaking her head like a dog after a bath. But still nothing happened.

Her whole body trembled as she moved forward. Her fingers hit the edge of the wall, and she froze. Now which way did she go?

Precious seconds ticked away as she stood, undecided. The scrape of footsteps sounded nearby, and her heart jumped into her throat. Whatever she was going to do, she had to do it now. She turned right, away from the sound of pursuit.

Move it
, she ordered herself.

Her fingers trailed against the smooth metal of a door. She fumbled for the handle and pushed it open, listening for Larson or Viktis.

Nothing.

Her own breathing sounded ragged and loud as she crept farther down the corridor. This whole place made her skin crawl. What other horrors would she stumble on here?

The next door was locked, but luckily she could pick it blindfolded. Her fingers trembled as she fit her lockpicks into the slot and she forced herself to steady. The throbbing in her head was getting worse. Maybe the virus was finally taking hold. Maybe Samil was trying to use her network to control Renna.

Stop it.
She did not have time to freak out. Viktis needed her.

Steadying her breathing, she made quick work of the lock and pushed the door open, just as the lights in the facility flooded back on.

Renna straightened from her crouch, hand pressed to her mouth to stifle her scream.

It wasn’t Viktis. It was worse.

THIRTY-FOUR

Crimson blood streaked the white, tiled floor, pooling around the drain in the center of the room. The stench of death mingled with acrid chemicals, burning Renna’s eyes and making her chest ache. She stared, wide eyed, at a dozen stasis trays sitting along the far wall. They were filled with body parts—amputated arms, parts of legs, eyes, even hearts.

All human. All recently removed from their victims. The victims who were still there.

Two men and two women lay on metal gurneys lined up in the middle of the room. Each body was torn open and butchered in a different way. But they had one thing in common. They were all victims of Samil’s horrific experiments.

She moaned, putting a hand against the doorframe to keep from sliding to the floor. Their gaping chest cavities and bloody torsos reminded her of Wall’s. Of the way he’d been torn apart and dismembered. Evidently he hadn’t just been a threat, but an experiment.

But what the hell was Samil doing with these people? Renna tightened her muscles and forced herself to approach the body parts in their stasis trays. They looked like large carry-out boxes made of clear poly-plastic. Each body part was surrounded by bright blue liquid.

The first held a human heart. It lay on its tray, pink and shiny and clean. Perfectly normal. Renna was about to move on to the next tray when it convulsed in a mockery of a heartbeat.

And again.

And a third time.

Renna stumbled backward as the pair of eyes on the next tray swiveled to look at her.

Holy hell. Samil had created living implants.

A sob broke free, and she squeezed her eyes closed until she could pull it together. Her whole body trembled, and every breath she took burned her nose with the scent of blood and chemicals. She had to get the hell out of here. Now.

Renna backed up until her rear hit the door. She couldn’t rip her gaze from the motionless bodies and their now-living parts. Who had they been? Had they volunteered for Samil’s experiments because she’d promised them a better life?

Obviously she’d lied.

Renna wasn’t religious, but she sent up a prayer to whatever gods these people believed in that they hadn’t suffered at least. The woman on the end didn’t look much older than Renna, with the gaunt cheeks of someone who’d had too much clay and not enough food.

She paused, one foot out the door, then spun to look at the girl again. Her heart jackhammered, sucking the breath from her lungs.

Renna knew her.

Annet Perra had lived in the Izan tenements where Renna grew up. She’d been ten years older, but she’d always been nice to the little kids. When she got a little extra money from the manufacturing job she worked, she’d buy them candy or an extra piece of fruit.

Renna’s gaze dropped to the woman’s arm—or where it used to be. Her forearm and hand were missing. Industrial accident, most likely. And she knew firsthand what happened to women who could no longer work in the factories. They did what her mother had. They turned to prostitution.

But why would Samil use this girl? Was there a connection or was it merely coincidence?

Renna frowned at the Annet’s body. Knowing Samil, there was no way in hell this was coincidence, but she didn’t have time to investigate right now. She chewed her lip, glancing between the body and the door. Leaving Annet here in this place felt like a betrayal. Tenement rats stuck together—that was the first law of growing up in that place. But the girl was beyond help now. And Viktis was still alive.

Sending a silent apology to the girl, she slipped back out the door and closed it behind her. She curled her trembling hands into fists. Samil was the monster here, not these poor people.

Shouts echoed through the facility as the men searched for Renna. There was only a matter of minutes before they found her again. She squared her shoulders as she faced the last door.

She couldn’t make the same mistake she’d made with Samil. No matter how injured Viktis was or what horrors she found in that room, she needed to stop Larson first. No matter the cost.

Renna tried the door handle. It moved easily, the door swinging open on silent hinges. Clutching her lockpick, the only weapon she had, she stepped into the room. Her gaze darted to Viktis, still chained to the wall. He didn’t even raise his head as she took another step.

Was he even still alive?

“Nice to see you again, Renna.” Larson leaned a shoulder against the wall, lips twisted in a sneer. “Dr. Samil thought you’d head this way. I’ll be more than happy to take you to her. After I’ve had a little fun with you first.” He snapped a finger at the med-drone floating behind him, and it vibrated as its sensors kicked in. “She only needs your mind to work, after all. Perhaps a little pain will make you behave.”

One of the drone’s spindly arms extended as if it was excited to get started.

“Did you know Dr. Navang?” Renna ignored the needle sticking from the drone’s arm and glanced around the room. Larson had pushed the empty metal gurney to the side, and the tray table with his torture tools took up half of the far wall. Viktis’s blood streaked the man’s hands, speckles of it dusting his face like war paint.

Her whole body shook with anger, but she needed to be smart.

“Of course,” he said with a nod. “He was a brilliant man.”

“Not so brilliant when I cornered him in his lab. He had lovely, sharp scalpels.”

Larson raised an eyebrow. “Why does this matter?”

“Because I slit his throat. And now I’m going to do the same to you.”

The major chuckled. “I love that you’re still so optimistic. Your files never indicated you had that streak. Give up, thief. You’re trapped here, and no matter what you do, Samil will use you to take down MYTH. It will go much easier for everyone involved if you’d cooperate.”

“I’ve never been much of a team player.” Renna shrugged. “Then again, neither have you. Getting your men killed in a botched mission, the sexual harassment, all those written reprimands in your files. I’m surprised MYTH didn’t court martial you.” Larson’s lips parted in surprise, and she smiled. “
Your
files indicated you were a fucking asshole.”

He growled and launched himself at her. “I’ve had enough of you.”

But Renna side-stepped easily, spinning around so she occupied the space Larson had just left. A few steps back and she’d have a whole tray of weapons at her disposal.

Behind her, the med-drone whirred and spun, but it didn’t attack.

“Move another inch and your friend is dead,” Larson warned. He strode to the wall and jerked Viktis’s head up.

An electric shock collar circled Viktis’s neck.

“State-of-the-art torture device,” Larson said. “I can program instant death by injection or merely shock my captives. Depends on my mood. And right now I’m not feeling very charitable.” He pressed the button on the controller in his right hand and a zap of electricity shot through the collar.

Viktis screamed, a high, unearthly sound as he jerked and spasmed against the wall, head lolling violently from side to side.

“Stop!” Renna screamed. “Stop it right now. I’ll do whatever you want.”

Larson lowered his hand, and the electricity in the collar shut off. Viktis sagged against his chains, moaning in agony. The metal around his wrists was the only thing supporting him, and they dug in painfully, skin bulging on either side of the bands.

“Good answer.” Larson waved a hand at the med drone. “Hold still and we’ll make sure you don’t escape again.”

The metal globe glided through the air toward her, and Renna clenched her fists. She wanted to punch the thing as far away from her as she could, but she couldn’t afford to put Viktis in danger again. “If I cooperate, you have to let the alien go.”

“Of course,” Larson said with a smile.

“Liar. Take his collar off right now.”

“Or what?” His smug expression was almost enough to send her over the edge and she gritted her teeth.

“Or I’ll kill myself right now and you’ll all be shit out of luck.” She held up her lockpick. “Don’t think I won’t. I grew up in the tenements. I know exactly how to kill a person instantly.”

A muscle jumped in Larson’s jaw, and he glanced between Renna and Viktis. She could see the calculations running through his mind. Was she telling the truth? How could he keep his prisoner and get her under control at the same time?

“I never bluff about death,” she said coldly. “How pleased do you think Samil will be when I die on your watch?”

She saw the moment Larson made his decision, heard the instant whirring of the drone as it hurled itself at her, needle extended. She spun around, arm raised to ward it off.

It stopped inches from her throat, the wicked needle glinting in the hololights. A single bead of some clear drug welled at the end of the needle before dripping to the floor.

Renna blinked at the thing and took a step back. It hung motionless in the air, nudging a memory at the back of her mind.

The punching ball back on the
Eris
.

Across the room, Larson cursed, struggling with the drone’s controller. She turned around almost leisurely and sent the drone careening toward him. Before he could even throw an arm up, the needle embedded itself in his throat, and Larson’s eyes widened as the vial of liquid emptied into his veins.

“What have you done?” he cried, dropping the controller and shoving the drone away with both hands. He clapped a hand to his neck, eyes bulging as he gasped for breath.

Renna released her control on the machine and it backed away from Larson. His skin had turned milky, and he swayed on his feet. With a moan, his knees gave out and he slid down the wall, landing on the floor with a thud.

She approached the trembling man, her smile growing with each step. Seeing him powerless and cowering made the adrenaline rush hot and rich through her veins. “You would know. You’re the one who stocked the drone.” She tilted her head to study him. “I’m guessing it was just a tranquilizer. I should be flattered. You guys really don’t want me to get hurt.”

“I’ll kill you myself, no matter what Samil wants.” Larson’s voice had dropped to a croak and his hands lay limply in his lap.

“Right. I’m shaking.” She urged the med-drone closer, using her implant to run through the list of attachments it carried until she found the one she wanted. She was going to enjoy this.

The round attachment slid from the drone’s body, sparks dancing at the tip of the sliver spike. If Larson could have moved, he would have crawled up the wall to get away from it.

“No,” he whispered. He’d gone even paler, if that was possible, all the blood draining from his face.

“Yes.” Renna ordered the machine forward.

It hummed as the spike touched Larson’s cheek and the spark arced into his skin. The gravitic cauterizer seared into the flesh on his cheekbone. The reek of burning flesh filled the room and a scream ripped from Larson’s throat.

“Please,” he begged. “Make it stop. I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Make it stop?” she asked. “And did you stop the hundreds of times other people begged you to do the very same thing?”

“It’s different. Please.”

“It’s only different because you’re on the receiving end now.”

Across the room, Viktis groaned.

Renna snapped around. Gods, what was she doing? She snatched up Larson’s controller from the floor and switched off the collar. Gently she lifted it from Viktis’s neck, then tackled the shackles, slipping a shoulder under his arm so he wouldn’t fall to the floor as they released. Gently, she let him slide until he was sitting with his back propped against the wall.