Severance (30 page)

Face buried in her terminal, but not really looking at it,
she reevaluated her options. Back the way she came? Or go up another level to
the entrances there? But those would likely be just as guarded. While she was
desperately trying to come up with a confrontation–free way out of her mess, a
new message icon flashed. Although absolutely the worst possible time for
engaging in correspondence, she couldn’t think of anything else to do, so she
opened the message and read it.

“No way.”

§

Bruce kissed and licked his singed knuckles, victims of his
zealous attempt to double–check the torch–proof thickness of the cell door. He
had already sent a message to Stein, who was clearly better at getting in and
out of here than he was, but knew she was probably offline. He considered
sending a similar message to Ellen and Griese, but that would be of a similarly
dubious value. They would have to get there first, and even if they somehow managed
that, they would probably just laugh at him. Shooting out the security sensor
to bait someone to come investigate was also out of the question, he had
discovered when he had tried to do exactly that; it was incredibly well–armored.
Besides which, the fact that he was there and Stein wasn’t suggested they weren’t
even monitoring the damn sensor. Still, they would get around to him
eventually. He would just have to shoot his way past whomever opened the door.
He maneuvered the maintenance robot so that it could look down the hall, then
leaned back on the bed, watching the robot’s feed on his terminal.

Twenty minutes after he had first checked in, the door slid
open. He immediately rolled out of bed, landing in a crouch, pistol drawn. Not
hearing any sounds of movement in the hall, he cautiously approached the door.
Red lights twirled on the ceiling above. Frowning, he slowly slid his head out
and looked down the corridor.

“You’ve got to fucking be kidding me,” Stein said, standing behind
the security console, a huge grin on her face.

“I’m not, actually,” Bruce said, stepping out of the cell.

“Why are you dressed as a stripper?”

“Shut up.”

“Where did you even get pants that small?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be mad.”

“You could have let me know the robot worked,” he said, pointing
up at the robot clinging to the hall ceiling. He frowned, then deactivated it
with his terminal. The robot plunged to the ground, Bruce catching it, then
tucking it into the webbing on his left hip.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were going to be so hot on its
heels.”

“
Finally,
someone thinks I’m hot. You have no idea
how long I’ve been waiting for someone to notice.”

§

The control room was only slightly less chaotic than the
streets below, as Thorias’ command officers struggled to coordinate their
officers’ activities. The room was filled with clipped and terse orders,
drowned out by the displays broadcasting chatter from officers in the thick of
the action.

“Move around to Flint, and hold position there.”

“Looters in the dress shop on 6
^th
and Chalk.”

“Need more help at the escalator. Africa and 5
^th
.
Now! Oh, craaaaa…”

“They’re looting the manikins. Why? What are they…oh, no!”

“Shoot him! Shoot him in the head!”

“That’s the worst thing I’ve ever seen.”

“…urine everywhere!”

“Why is no one stopping him? Why are they laughing and
clapping?”

“They’re hugging us! They’re hugging us!”

“That manikin is ruined!
Everything
is ruined!”

Helot stepped up quietly beside Thorias. “Well?”

Thorias’ hands flexed white on the table display. “I think
we’re okay,” he said softly. “Got ’em contained, finally.” He pointed to the
map, where the approximate location of the rioters was sketched in, a rough
horseshoe around Africa–1. “They’re not really armed. And they’re not heading
upstairs at all.”

“Good,” Helot said. He looked at the map, at Thorias’
defenses, and at the red horseshoe which indeed did seem to be shrinking slowly.
“Do you, uh, know why they’re naked?” he asked.

Thorias didn’t know, and the expression on his face told just
how deeply he didn’t know. “They’re not all naked. Just some,” he said quietly.
“But…”

“Some is more than enough,” Helot finished the thought. He
closed his eyes and felt his hands ball into fists, fingernails digging into
his palms. If he had needed a reason for leaving these people behind, he was
getting one.

§

“Well, shit,” Bruce said, looking across the lobby. “You
were right.”

They were on the fourth floor of the security base, as far
away from the riot as they could be. Stein had guessed there would be fewer guards
up here and had been proven correct — the lobby was empty.

“It seems your distraction is still fairly distracting.”

“That’s too bad,” Bruce said. “I was kinda wanting to shoot my
way out.” Bruce had come armed, pistols for both himself and Stein, rounded out
with a pair of stun grenades. Stein’s hand touched the weapon on her hip,
fingers flicking away as soon as she did.

“Still might get the chance, buddy.” They didn’t have to
take the same way out of the aft that Bruce had taken in, and indeed would have
had to fight their way through a semi–naked melee to do so. Bruce still had his
tools with him and could open any of the bulkhead doors he wanted. They just
had to get to one first.

Stein walked across the lobby towards the front door, Bruce
trailing just behind her. The doors slid open, and she stuck her head out,
looking north. No bulkhead doors there — just one of the security checkpoints a
block away, a half–dozen officers set up behind plastic barricades.

“Think they’ll notice us?” Bruce asked, just behind her.

“Well, I don’t want to go back inside,” she replied. “So,
let’s find out. Be cool.”

“Got it. I
am
inconspicuous,” Bruce declared. Stein
did a double–take at the big man with the too small security uniform and a
robot strapped to his hip. She took a deep breath, then set out across the
street.

They hadn’t even made it halfway before they heard shouts of
recognition from the barricade. Breaking into a sprint, they crossed the rest
of the street at a run, rounding the intersection out of sight.

“They were looking for us!” she shouted.

“No, you were too conspicuous!” Bruce shouted back. They
reached the next block, a side street, Stein turning north to the closed
bulkhead door there. Bruce grabbed her on the shoulder to stop her. “No way. We’re
not gonna have enough time.” He jerked his head south. “Come on.”

So, they ran south, footsteps and shouts behind them. Stein
followed Bruce as he picked his way through the smaller streets and hallways,
finally realizing he was taking them to one of their old haunts, a pressure
boosting room, from where they could access a variety of mechanical areas.
Stein ducked inside the room, dominated by the massive air plenum. Bruce locked
the door behind her. “Think we lost ’em?” he asked.

“No. Not at all,” she replied. It wouldn’t take long to
track them down here. She turned to face the plenum, where a fan boosted the
pressure on one of the ship’s main arterial ducts. Her eyes followed the
ducting out of the room, trying to remember where it led, where there were
better places to hide. She stifled a chuckle. “You know what we’re close to?”

“Death?” he guessed. “Or were you being sentimental?
Each
other?
”

Stein squinted. “M. Melson’s studio.”

“I’m pretty sure we’ve figured out everything there is to
know about that guy, Stein.”

“Yes, but that guy’s studio is a better place to hide than
here.”

Bruce looked at the ducting and groaned. “You’re right, but
fuck you for it.”

Stein opened a hatch on the plenum, exposing the filter
chamber, making way for Bruce to step through before following him, closing the
hatch behind her. This was a narrow space, a spinning fan blade behind a grate
on their right, a screen of cellulose filters on their left. Stein selected a
filter at waist level, and lifted it from its slot. She crawled through the gap,
then got out of the way, allowing Bruce to enter somewhat less gracefully,
before carefully replacing the filter behind him. A series of smaller ducts were
arrayed in front of them, screened by a set of dampers. Selecting one of these
ducts, she turned sideways and easily slipped through a pair of damper vanes.
Bruce simply bent one of the vanes out of the way then back in place. Beyond
them, the duct soon narrowed, forcing them to begin crawling and Bruce to begin
moaning.

Ten minutes later, Stein was over the spot where she could
look down into M. Melson’s studio. “Oh, Bruce, you sprightly fucking gazelle,”
she said, seeing the evidence of her friend’s previous visit to the room, a
damper hanging open and the ceiling laying in splinters on the floor below.

“It worked, didn’t it?” Bruce asked from behind her.

Lowering herself through a little more gently, Stein
examined the room. There were the removed ceiling tiles and the gash in the
ceiling that Bruce had found. Which meant there must be a disconnect directly
above the room. The conspirators must have known that one was going to jam, and
cut through it before they attempted to separate. Nearly blinding a wayward
intruder as they did so.

Bruce entered the room behind her, easing himself down from
the vent with his powerful arms, landing on both feet with surprising grace. “Nailed
it,” he said, adding a bow. Stein shook her head, then entered the closet in
the back of the studio. She bent down to open the access hatch, interrupted by
a groan from behind her. “No way that’s going to happen,” Bruce said. “I’m not
going to fit in there. We’ll hide here.”

“I know. Just considering our options.”

From the studio was the sound of a door opening. Bruce and
Stein turned to see a surprised–looking naval engineer staring back at them, carrying
a massive bulky object by its two handles. Dark goggles hung around his neck. “Hey,
guys. Just here to cut the clamps.”

Stein nearly choked in surprise that two ill–fitting
security costumes had fooled someone at close range. “We know,” Bruce said,
thinking slightly quicker than her. “We were just clearing the room for you.”

“Huh,” the engineer said. “Okay. But you guys will probably
want to clear out of here.” He fingered the goggles hanging around his neck. “This
thing gets pretty bright.”

“Oh, we know,” Bruce said with a smile.

The engineer looked at him curiously. “Hey, why are your
pants so tight? Wait. Who are you guuuMPH…”

His question was cut short by a fist to the nose, sending
him tumbling backwards, the massive tool falling down on top of him. “Careful!”
Stein yelled at Bruce, still advancing on the engineer. Bruce realized the
danger, leaping back just as a bright blue blade erupted out of the fusion
torch. Stein was staring right at it, immediately blinded, stumbling backwards
into the closet. Again the letters VLAD danced in the center of her vision. The
hiss of the fuse torch filled the room until it was cut off by another thump
and strangled cry.

Stein opened her eyes again, blinking rapidly. “Balls! That
is bright,” Bruce said, somewhere off to her left. Her vision slowly returned
to normal, the ghostly, misshapen VLAD slowly fading from view. She looked over
to see the engineer on the floor, fuse torch beside him, Bruce standing over
him, doing his own blinking.

“What’d you do?” she asked.

“Kicked him in the face.”

Stein got to her feet. “Good.” She crossed the room to
examine the fuse torch. “Hey, did you see anything…funny…when that thing came
on?”

“What?” Bruce asked. He bent down to pick up the fuse torch.
“I saw you falling backwards on your ass. That was kind of funny, in a very rudimentary
slapstick way. Why? What’d you see?”

Stein shook her head. “It’s nothing.” She looked up at the
ceiling, ignoring Bruce’s suspicious gaze. Her eyes traced out the scar in the
ceiling, where the fuse torch had first shown her VLAD. “He must have been here
to hack away at the disconnect again. I guess one or more of them jammed.”

Bruce turned the fuse torch over in his hands. “Think we can
use this for anything?”

“I think we can use it for cutting things.”

“Okay. But do we need to cut anything?”

“Ah. I can’t think of anything we need to cut, no.”

“Well, I don’t want to lug it around.” Bruce said, smashing
it against the wall. Various pieces of the torch rained down at his feet.

“You ever wonder if maybe those things explode when you do
that to them?” Stein asked. “I mean, it is a fusion torch, right?”

“Seems to be safe,” Bruce said, dropping it on the floor. He
then started feeling the engineer’s pockets, patting him down. Finding
something, he pulled out a terminal. Seeing Stein’s expression, he said, “What?
We are terrorists now.”

“We already have terminals.”

Bruce grabbed the unconscious engineer’s hand and slid the terminal
into its grip. The screen flashed to life with what the engineer had been
looking at. Bruce examined the screen and smiled. “But now we have all his
notes.” With a couple of taps, he instructed it to begin copying files to his
own terminal.

Stein pursed her lips. “How’d you know that’d work?” she
asked, looking at the engineer’s limp hand on the terminal. “Never mind. Not
the first time you’ve punched someone in the face.”

“Hopefully, not the last, either.”

Stein looked down at the unconscious engineer on the floor. “Someone’s
going to notice him missing before long.” She looked back to the closet and the
hatch over the crawlway access.

“Don’t say it,” he said.

“It’ll work,” she said. “You’ll fit. It will suck, but it’ll
work.”