Severance (45 page)

Griese watched the blue flash a few more times, thinking. They
had set up in the upper floor of an apartment on the corner of Africa and 7
^th
.
Kinsella’s army had stalled; all of the fools who enjoyed getting shot had gone
down in the first few waves, leaving the slow and gun shy to carry on with the
advance. Those still interested in the fight were taking cheap shots at the
security forces from range, but that was a diminishing number; most were
milling about somewhat aimlessly. A few had started looting. The security
forces seemed content with that state of affairs, simply holding their new
defensive perimeter, not trying to push the mob back.

That was the case until the past few minutes, when new,
bluer muzzle flashes started appearing on the security lines. “I dunno,” Griese
finally said. “Though I’ve got a guess.”

“Yeah, so do I.” A moment later, “Ahhh, hell.”

“What?” Griese asked.

“He’s bleeding. Shit, he’s really hurt. They’re really doing
it, those fuckers. They brought out the bolt throwers.”

“What is it?” Griese looked up at Ellen, who had shifted her
rifle to look down at the streets closer to them.

“Some dumb kid’s bleeding on the ground. Screaming his head
off. They shot him, Griese. They shot him.”

Griese tilted his terminal around until he could see what
she was looking at. A young man on the ground, blood pouring from his leg. Too
far away to hear him, but he looked to be screaming in agony. Eventually, some
brave soul dashed out into the street and dragged him behind the lee of a
building. “Was that what we were waiting for?” he asked.

Ellen seemed to have more or less recovered from her
previous experience with the security counter–sniper, or at least claimed she
had. Griese had his doubts, but he carried them quietly. And with Stein and
Bruce doing something dangerous, there was no way his wife wouldn’t want to
help, or at least do something equally dangerous herself. And with only the one
obvious tool at their disposal for ‘helping,’ they had marched into the aft to
do just that. What their ‘help’ would entail wasn’t explicitly discussed; they
had yet to decide what rules of engagement they were going to use. Griese hoped
it would be obvious when they saw it.

“It might be, yeah,” Ellen said quietly. “Where was he
shooting from again? I lost him.”

Griese began panning the terminal back to where he had first
seen the blue muzzle flashes. But he couldn’t find them — all fire from the
security officers seemed to have stopped. “Maybe it was a warning?” he said.

“Yeah, well, maybe we should warn them, too.”

Griese swallowed and began panning the terminal around some
more, looking for the guns. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“It couldn’t be him.”

“Who? What? Where?”

“Back. Back. Like to 2
^nd
Ave. Standing in front
of the van on the right. Who’s that?”

He waited for Ellen to find what he was looking at. “The
chief of security?”

“That’s where, what, and who I’m looking at.” On the screen,
Griese watched Chief Thorias gesturing down the street, at this magnification,
almost seeming to point right at Griese. A couple of the officers gathered
around him were clearly holding long guns.

So faint he could barely hear her, Ellen said. “I’m going to
do it.”

Griese licked his lips. “Are you sure? I could…”

“No.” He looked up from the terminal. Her back rose as she
took in a breath. A click from the rifle. She shifted slightly to the side. Her
back fell. A familiar crack filled the room. Griese didn’t even bother to look.

“Hey…,” he said softly, crawling over to her.

“I’m fine,” she said. She rolled away from the window. “We
should reposition.”

“Ellen…”

“I’m fine, Griese!” She glared at him. “He brought it on
himself. They all did.” She grabbed the rifle and stood up, moving to the back
of the apartment. Griese felt incredibly cold and looked down at the goose
bumps on his forearms. He got to his feet, rubbing his arms, and followed her
downstairs.

Outside, they stayed on the edges of the street as they
moved to their next spot. They headed back to 8
^th
Avenue, a block
closer to safety, a prudent move should this suddenly lethal war get any worse.
Ellen stood out of Griese’s way as he blew the lock on the door of an almost
identical apartment. Across the street, Loyalist soldiers streamed in and out
of another apartment, the Loyalist’s makeshift headquarters.

The lock popped, and Griese shoved the door out of the way,
stepping inside. “Oh, goddammit,” Ellen said behind him, stopping just inside
the entrance of the apartment.

“What is it?” he asked, turning around.

She looked back at him, hands on her hips. “You didn’t
happen to bring the charging cable, did you?”

“Are you serious?”

“Don’t be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at us.”

“You sounded mad at me,” she said. A small grin. “I guess we
forgot, after the last time.”

He bent down to look at the gun. “So, it’s done?”

“One shot left. Maybe two.”

Griese looked at the orangish glow from the charge indicator.
“Well. Let’s go get the cable, then.”

Ellen looked up at him. “Both of us? You’re the one who
forgot it.”

“I’m pretty sure we both forgot it.”

“That’s not how I remember it. Go on. I’ll be fine here.”

“I’m not going to leave you here in the middle of a war, lady.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“I don’t doubt it. But I’m pretty sure this is one of those
things that was in our vows. Sickness. Health. Peace. War zones.”

“I don’t remember you saying that.”

“Well, it was maybe between the lines.” Griese grabbed her
hand. “Come on, let’s go.”

She twisted her hand out of his grasp. “I’ll be fine,” she
said.

Years of experience had taught Griese it wasn’t wise to push
her when her fur was on end. Years of experience worth ignoring in this
particular circumstance. “Ellen…”

“Griese!” She snapped at him. “If those assholes try
anything, I will shoot them.”

“You’ve got one shot, Ellen.”

“Then you’d better fucking hurry back with that charging
cable!” Her nostrils flared. An uneasy moment passed between them. Finally, her
expression softened. “Look. If anything goes wrong, I’m out of here in a second.
I won’t do anything dumb. Now, please. Go. Hurry back. I’ll be fine.” She
smiled and squeezed his hand.

“I’m not going to…”

“I want you to go.” Griese felt his face sink. “It’s…” she
tried to explain. “I just don’t want you around for this.”

If I can’t be around for it, then you shouldn’t be doing
it.
That was a wise thing to say.
I’m getting you out of here right now,
you bloodthirsty bitch.
Less wise, but certainly to the point. There were,
in truth, many things he could have and should have said, other than “Okay,”
which is what he did.

She bent in to give him a kiss, a good one. She stepped
away. “I’ll be fine.”

He nodded dumbly, and backpedaled awkwardly to the door. He
stopped. “If our guys start running away…”

“I’ll run, too. In front of them. Let them be the dead
heroes.”

“Good.”

Ellen smiled, then crept upstairs. Still not sure how it was
happening, or why he was letting it, Griese backed out the door.

§

When they finally reached the 20
^th
floor, Croutl
showed them the problem. “That’s not supposed to be there, is it?” he said,
pointing at the closed bulkhead door.

Stein examined the door. It looked similar to the bulkhead
doors currently in place along the street levels of the ship, but much less
dirty. Trails of fresh lubricant along the edges told her someone had been
maintaining it recently. “I’d say it looks like it’s meant to be here.”

“Kind of a shame that it’s closed, though, isn’t it?” Bruce
said.

“Can you open it?” Croutl asked. Stein tried the controls,
found them locked off, and shook her head. Beside her, Bruce tried pushing on
the door. “So, now what?” Croutl asked.

Stein looked at Bruce, who nodded, jerking his head down the
hall. “We probably have another way,” she said.

They began making their way along the steeply curving
hallways, Croutl a short distance in front of them, moving in a crouch so that
he could see further ahead. A minute or so later, Croutl held up his hand, signaling
for them to stop. Stein and Bruce nervously waited, watching Croutl frozen in
place in the middle of the hall. A few seconds passed before he moved, waving
them forward again.

“I recognize that,” Bruce said, seeing the disconnect hatch that
had caught Croutl’s attention.

It was the same hatch they had ambushed Curts in. The
fasteners on the hatch were still loose, Stein and Bruce easily undoing them
while Croutl prowled up and down the hall. The hatch open, Stein stepped
inside, turning on her terminal light, illuminating the massive set of
interlocked C–clamps, now cut completely through. “Looks like they got another
fuse torch,” she said. Bruce nodded and stepped past her to the other side of
the cavity. “How’s the hatch?” she asked. “Can you see a way to open it?”

“I think pushing on it will work.”

“What?”

“It’s already open.” Silence for a moment, then a squeaking
sound. “Yeah, it’s open.”

“Where’s that take us?” Croutl asked, peering suspiciously
into the cavity.

“Closer.”

“Good enough.” Croutl stepped into the cavity to join them.

Stein joined Bruce on the far side, crouched down with his
head close to the hatch. He shook his head when she approached, then pushed the
hatch a little further. She could see down the core hall, no one in sight. “I’ll
go first,” Croutl said. He pushed the hatch a little further open, then stepped
quickly through, gun drawn. “Come on,” he said after a moment.

Bruce followed through the hatch behind him, Stein following
a second later, stepping into the core hallway. A noise behind her, Stein
turning to see a startled naval engineer gaping at them. A shot,
a loud one
,
from beside her head. Charged particles smashed into the engineer’s neck,
sending him to the ground. “Yeah!” Bruce hissed beside her, jogging over to
inspect his handiwork. “I think it’s the same guy as before!” he said, looking
up with a big grin on his face.

“He’s going to develop a real fucking complex about walking
down this hall,” she said, rubbing her ear. She turned around, not seeing
Croutl anywhere. “Uh…,” she said.

“He went the other way,” Bruce said. He bent down to pick up
his quarry, and dumped him back into the disconnect cavity, shutting the hatch
behind him. “We should probably catch up.”

They heard him before they saw him. Together they ran up the
curve of the ship to see Croutl firing rapidly around a corner. “Two of ’em
right in front of the reactor,” Croutl said, ducking back out of their return
fire. “They were fucking waiting for us.” He pulled a grenade from his webbing
and heaved it down the hallway. Screams of recognition echoed down the halls
before a massive thump. Croutl looked around the corner and was again turned
back by a flurry of return fire. “How the fuck are there
more of them now
?”
he shouted. He looked at Stein and shook his head. “This isn’t going to work,”
he said. Stein felt Bruce’s hand on her shoulder and allowed herself to be
tugged back the way they had come. She watched Croutl deliver one last salvo, screaming
obscenities before he turned to follow them.

Bruce had just reopened the access hatch to the cavity when a
second group of security officers appeared in front of them. Stein cried out in
warning, cut short by Bruce shoving her through the hatch. Gunfire erupted
behind her. In the cavity, Stein rolled off the naval engineer’s still
unconscious body and regained her feet. She looked back into the hall at Bruce,
who was clambering into the hatch himself. “Croutl?” she shouted.

“Go, go,” Bruce hissed, pushing her to the other side of the
cavity. She opened her mouth to protest, before he said, “He’s down.” Another
ungallant shove sent her through the hatch on the other side.

Bruce rejoined her outside the cavity and slammed the door
shut. He slotted in one of the fasteners, spinning it partially tight, then
added a second one. Before he could finish, an enormous thump from the other
side of the door, the vibrations kicking up clouds of dust from the floor. “That
wasn’t a grenade,” Stein said. “Shit,” she added a moment later, getting it.

“The charges,” Bruce said. Stein’s shoulders slumped. The
explosive charges Croutl was carrying must have been hit. Her mouth went dry
and she started to slump to the ground. “Come on,” Bruce said, grabbing her
under the armpits and spinning her in the direction they had come from. “We’ll
be unhappy later.” Another shove, and they were off.

She would remember very little about their retreat down the
stairs. The gravity kept getting stronger, that much stuck out. Unless it was
her legs getting weaker.

§

Half an hour. That’s how long it took someone to tell him
that Thorias was dead. Incompetence by design; the only people who knew were
security officers, and the only person they knew to report to was Thorias. There
was no second–in–command. Thorias had five or six third–in–commands, but none
of them had anywhere near the authority to speak directly to Helot.

It had been up to Helot to notice that his security chief
wasn’t answering his terminal. It had been up to Helot to ask someone directly.
It had been up to Helot to ask again when that someone froze solid. “He’s dead,
sir,” the officer manning the tactical table eventually said. He pointed at
something on the map, a squiggly line which evidently meant something to him. “See?
Dead.”

“What.” Not a question, just a statement. The only thing
Helot could think to say. The officer squirmed some more before confirming what
he had just said and explaining what had happened. Someone had apparently shot
Thorias in the head, that’s what happened.