Relic Tech (Crax War Chronicles) (57 page)

Two people dressed as Capital Galactic engineers entered. The first missed me and focused on McAllister at the console. The second had scales the color of green bananas beginning to ripen. The bulbous forehead identified it as a Selgum Crax.

I caught the Crax’s eyes. They widened, and its dangling chin flap retracted. The door slid closed and a round from my revolver dropped the alien before it could hiss.

The engineer heard the dampened sound of my revolver and the alien hitting the floor. Instead of addressing McAllister, who hadn’t bothered to acknowledge his presence, he turned and asked, “What is this?”

I thumbed back the hammer and took careful aim. “Unless you desire a hole in your cranium as well, I suggest you shut up and place your hands in the air.”

He complied after seeing the bloody pool at my feet.

“Kneel.” I moved behind him and pulled an anesthetizing patch from my pocket. I slapped it on his neck. He reached for it, so I slammed my revolver butt against his skull.

“Finished,” said McAllister. She looked at the bodies. “Only one dead?”

“I noted your confidence in me. Security’s sure to have picked this up.”

“Sort of,” she said. “I scrambled the content and the origin. They may have seen you waste the Crax, but monitors will have shown it happening in the corridor outside Security, and the system tag should indicate the waste incineration complex.”

I pictured a surgery occurring on a dining table. “Anything else I should know?”

“The system should be slowing, especially if the writers aren’t familiar with Shigg code. I wasn’t.” I stepped over the dead alien on the way out. McAllister stepped on it. “Access 3344 A, B, C, lock,” she said grinning. “Keyed access commands to our voice patterns.”

She led me to the left, down the main corridor. “McAllister, why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“You’re R-Tech,” she said. “And I wasn’t one-hundred percent certain it would work.”

Some personnel moved along the corridors unaware. Others proceeded with concern and purpose. I leaned toward McAllister. “This is where we’ll find out if Boyd—does everyone else know about the access commands?”

“Is anyone else R-Tech?” She picked up the pace, mimicking those with striding urgency. “I think we’d be dead if we were betrayed. Keep up.”

Next stop was an administrative supply office. McAllister walked in and announced, “System troubles.”

A sky-blue dressed S2 information specialist stood next to his console. “Yes, Engineer.” He started to say more but spotted me. He raised his eyebrows at McAllister. “Who are you?”

“Doors lock,” said McAllister.

I leveled my shotgun. “Hands up. Away from the consoles. Anybody speaks out of turn will regret it.” All four info specialists complied. “Okay. Line up against that wall. Hands straight up.”

They filed toward the wall. “I don’t know—,” began the supervisor.

I slammed the butt of my shotgun into his kidneys. The others observed their supervisor grimacing on the floor. I reached into a pocket and tossed four patches to one on the left. He looked the meekest. “Apply one of these knockout patches to your boss’s neck.” He hesitated. “The other options are for me to beat you all to unconsciousness, or kill you.”

The meek C3 complied. Then he applied patches as directed to his other associates and himself.

“You’re most efficient,” McAllister said. “I only heard one in pain.”

“How goes
it?” I asked. “And what are you doing?”

McAllister didn’t look up from the screen and her oversized computer clip. “Their system is running at 4.88 percent normal speed. I’ve just launched an attack on communications.” She shifted from clip to console and back. “Their systems engineer is competent. Problem for them is, most defense and firewalls are focused on securing their research information.” She disconnected her clip.

I picked up the case with her carbine and spare equipment. “Next stop, reactor control?”

She nodded. “I’ve avoided the internal transport system as much as possible. Main access door, open, then close and lock after three seconds.”

We hurried to a busy shuttle access and waited. The arriving shuttle looked like an oversized golf cart with facing seats. And like virtually every other piece of equipment, it was cream colored. Its eight seats filled immediately. The next was only half full with us sitting across from a scientist and a C2 maintenance tech.

“Reactor control,” said McAllister, causing the shuttle to accelerate down the tubular route.

“Must have fixed that glitch,” said the C2.

“Must have.” McAllister grinned. “Specialist?”

I drew my revolver. “Hands up.”

McAllister giggled. “Hand over all your credits.”

Puzzlement stretched across both faces.

I didn’t bat an eye. “You,” I said to the C2. “Slowly extend your right hand.” When he did, I slapped a patch on it.

He sat stunned. Within three seconds he slumped.

I thumbed the hammer of my revolver. “Care to tell me anything about your research?”

“I, ahh,” the scientist muttered. “It’s classified.”

“And probably over my head. Correct?”

Hesitant, he nodded, staring wide-eyed down at the C2.

“I’m out of patches,” I said. “Shuttle stop.” As it slowed I asked, “Do you have any, Engineer?” When the scientist’s eyes darted to McAllister, I caught him in the chin with my brass knuckles. I removed both men’s collar communications and then dumped them in a maintenance alcove. I checked my watch. “Time’s running out.”

McAllister studied her clip as we sped on. “System speed is up to 12.41 percent. They should defeat the communication attack in twelve minutes. Security system remains scrambled. Shigg code is
very
effective.”

“I really am out of patches.” I replaced the used round from my revolver. “This next one we’ll have to be a little more aggressive.”

“Violence is your style, Keesay. Remind me to tell you what I’d planned to do to your files on the
Kalavar
.”

“You say that after noting my violent tendencies?”

“Keesay, you may be able to intimidate others. Not me.” She wasn’t lying.

I shrugged. “I can see why you and Gudkov worked so well together. I’ll never match him. But I can sure try.”

Her face grew dark. “I’ll never like you, Relic.”

I hid my surprise. “McAllister, the feeling’s mutual. But together we get the job done.” The shuttle slowed. “What else is there?”

She set the opened case beside her, hand inside on the laser carbine. Two sec-specs stood posted outside. “Keesay, you take the one on the left.”

“Understood.” I climbed out, drew and fired my duty revolver. I missed his face by six inches to the right.

McAllister took hers with two blasts. Mine returned MP fire before I hit him in the chest, knocking him back. McAllister finished him. “Losing your touch, Keesay?” She stepped past the dead men. “Shuttle, remain for eighteen minutes.”

“Didn’t have time to aim,” I said. “That’s why I carry this.” I affixed my bayonet and said, “Main access to reactor control, open.”

There were only two security inside the main access. We surprised them along with the other personnel. In the end we killed or incapacitated the security along with nine engineers and maintenance techs. Three managed to escape into the reactor area despite McAllister’s lockdown command.

“They’ll be able to call for assistance in eight minutes,” McAllister warned.

“We’d better be gone by then.”

“Maybe,” said McAllister, working again. “System’s up to 25.74 percent. They’ll regain security monitoring in eighteen minutes.”

“I’m going to see what damage I can do,” I said. “Which door do you suggest?”

Without looking she leaned to reach another console, and tapped. “That door. Straight ahead.” She hesitated. “You’re not planning to use that popcorn nuke?”

“No suicide today.” I pulled out B’down’s timed explosive I’d been carrying since killing him. “And I have this and AP rounds.” I began to eject jacketed rounds and load AP. “We’ll never make it to the alien underground facilities. But I may be able to make it harder to access them in the future.”

“Hey, Keesay,” McAllister said with a grin. “They’re in the middle of loading radioactive fuel. That door instead. Look for a large tracked forklift-bot carrying something with a ‘Danger Radioactive’ sign on it.”

“I’ll be back in five minutes,” I said before stepping over several bodies. I should’ve felt guilt, but picturing my dead friends aboard the
Kalavar
trumped any sympathy.

“Don’t get too close,” said McAllister, “or hang out too long and get a lethal dose.”

“Didn’t know you cared.”

“About you, no. About your ability to help shoot our way to the escape shuttle. Yes.”

“Close enough.” I held my shotgun ready. “Door, unlock and open for two seconds, then close and lock.” I entered a corridor and headed for the stairwell up. Movement caught my eye. I filled a fleeing maintenance tech’s back with buckshot.

He was still conscious. I stood over him. “The Crax have invaded and you guys are assisting them,” I said before kicking him in the face.

I climbed three flights, then ran down another corridor.
Crack
!
Crack
! MP fire from ahead. One shot impacted my chest. My high-grade coveralls and plasticized breastplate beneath absorbed the hit. I scattered two buckshot rounds down the hall before I spotted the enemy fire source.
Crack
!
Crack
! An armored door with a slot. Another hit in the chest staggered my step.

I dove. “Armored access door to reactor area, open.” When it ratcheted up I sent buckshot into the guard’s legs and followed with a killing shot after she fell.

I reloaded my shotgun and climbed to my feet. Two sec-bots stationed themselves at the entrance to a cavernous reactor area, next to the fallen security woman. I threw my shotgun at the right-hand one when it prepared to deploy its stun net. The other grazed my cheek with an MP round.

My shotgun entangled the stun net and clanged off the sec-bot. I dove and rolled so that the right-hand bot obstructed its partner’s line of fire. An MP round ricocheted into my right leg. I aimed my revolver and sent an AP round through the firing sec-bot. I took out the second when it maneuvered to fire on me.

I wiped my bleeding cheek and held my bandana against it. My leg hurt and would be bruised. I pried open the access panels of both sec-bots with my bayonet and scrambled a few circuits before checking my watch. Almost out of time. I spotted several retreating engineers and the abandoned industrial forklift-bot. The blazing-red radioactive symbol marked a two ton canister resting on the floor in front of it.

I ran forward and set the explosive for triple delay setting, 13.5 seconds, and slapped it onto the industrial-bot’s hydrogen fuel tank. My bruised leg didn’t slow me much as I ran back toward the door. “Armored access door to reactor area, lower in five seconds.” I cocked my revolver, and sent four AP rounds at the canister. Two deflected off. Two penetrated. When the door ratcheted down, I ran.

The lights dimmed after the muffled explosion. I ignored my throbbing leg while sprinting back to McAllister.

She was standing against the wall. “About time. Three security out there.”

“How are they deployed?” I pulled a bandage from my belt pouched and slapped it on my cheek. “How’re they armed?”

“MP carbines,” she said. “They’re outside trying to override my lockout.”

“I used my explosive. Can you cut the lighting in here?”

“That’ll be easy. I just scrammed their online reactor.” She tapped at a console. “They’re on backup generators and battery reserve. With any luck, it’ll go critical after they restart it. Want their lights out, too?”

“No. We want to see them.”

“What if they have infra
red?”

“They’re cheap here,” I said. “Minimal equipment.”

McAllister grinned as our lights faded. “Theirs are strobing.”

“Okay, you call it. I’ll take the center and right. You get left.”

“Counting down,” she said. “Three, two, one, entrance access door, open.”

We achieved complete surprise. Their uniforms couldn’t withstand buckshot, let alone laser blasts.

“They’ve locked out the shuttle,” McAllister said. “Not good.” She pulled her computer clip and attached it.

“We’ll never make it on foot,” I said, looking down the strobing transport corridor. “Not on time.” I dragged the one surviving sec-specs to the cart and threatened her. “Get it running or join your friends.”

The C3 sec-spec was bleeding from her abdomen and shoulder. “Warp-screw you,” she spat.

“One brave one in the lot,” I said, trying to ignore the pulsing lights.

McAllister smiled. “No need. Get in.”

The C3 slumped. I pulled her up by the hair. “Crax are busy killing marines and civilians. Here you are defending them.” I took her MP pistol and threw her down. “Hope you can live with your treachery.” My brass knuckles broke her jaw. “Six minutes.” We sped away.