Skybreach (The Reach #3) (29 page)

“I checked there as well, and it was a similar story,” Silvestri said.  “We could waste hours trying to find a bay that’s clear, and still come up empty.”

“So the question is,” Talia said, “can we get past them?”

Silvestri didn’t answer immediately.  “It might take some firepower.  I doubt they’ll let us walk past and catch the nearest ride.”

“I heard gunfire,” Lazarus rumbled from beneath his bandages.  “What happened?”

“Enforcers showed up,” Silvestri said.  “Not for long, though.  They scattered again pretty quickly.”

“So what’s the plan?” Holger said, taking a flask of water and washing the chow stick down with a noisy slurp.  “Do we need to bring out the heavy hitters for these gangbangers?”  He thumped the
case at his feet with his boot.

“I’d prefer not to,” Silvestri said.  “We need to conserve ammunition for the roof where possible.  That’s where we’re really going to need it.”

“What about if we activate an elevator as far away from them as possible?” Talia said.  “There’s dozens of them out there, right?”

“That’s true, but the waiting area is too open for us to slip past unnoticed,” Silvestri said.  “They’ll see us for certain.”

“Aksel, how long is it going to take for the elevator to arrive?” Talia said.

Aksel shrugged.  “Maybe a minute after I get it activated.  Then we have to get across to it and wait for the doors to close.  We’d have to hold them off for maybe a minute and a half to be safe.”

“Too long,” Silvestri muttered.  “Far too long.”

“Give them what they want,” Lazarus said to no one in particular.

Holger sauntered over to the Redman in the wheelchair and bent to look at him.

“You say something, mummy-man?”

“Give them what they want,” Lazarus said again.  “These brigands desire access to the elevator.  Open the door and allow them inside.  Let them leave.”

Holger stared at him for a moment longer, then, unable to summon a fitting rebuke, turned and stalked away.

Silvestri grinned, reaching out and clapping Lazarus on the shoulder.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” he said.

“It’s a decent plan,” Aksel admitted.  “But I’ll need to get closer to figure out which one to activate.”

Silvestri nodded.  “Then let’s do that.”

They travelled along the corridor for a minute or two, moving as quickly and as quietly as they could, and soon they reached the end of the corridor.  Beyond, the area opened out into a broad expanse that led to the curving wall of elevators.  Talia peered out at them, imagining how the area must have bu
stled with activity in the heyday of the Reach, the sound of footsteps and animated conversations filling the air as people came and went.

Now the only sound she could hear was a hollow metallic clang as the looters pummelled away at the elevator shaft not far away.

Silvestri edged forward again and peered out for a few seconds, craning his neck at something Talia couldn’t see.  A few moments later he shuffled back to the others.

“They’re working on Elevator Twelve,” he whispered to Aksel.  “They also have Thirteen and Fifteen jimmied open.  If you can activate say… Elevator Six, that should get their attention.”

“Right,” Aksel said, beginning to type on his holophone.  “And which number do you want for us?”

Silvestri glanced over his shoulder at the elevators.  “Thirty-One is the closest to us.  That one should do nicely.”

Aksel nodded distractedly, continuing to tap furiously on the device, and then the clanging outside abruptly stopped.  There were several excited hoots and shouts from the looters and the sound of something heavy being dropped.

“Six should be on its way,” Aksel said, licking his lips nervously.  “I’m bringing up Thirty-One right now.  Get ready to move.”

They crept forward, and as they reached the end of the corridor, Talia caught sight of the looters further along the elevator bank.  Their attention had been drawn in the opposite direction, toward the newly lit Elevator Six, and now they began to cluster around it excitedly.  About them were strewn all manner of tools – clamps, hammers, reinforcing bars and a circular power saw among others.  As Talia watched, she saw two more men emerge from an open elevator shaft, their faces and hands blackened with grease, and these wasted no time in joining the others at Elevator Six.

“Thirty-One is coming online now,” Aksel said.  He pointed, and sure enough, the elevator nearest to them lit up.  Talia heard a distant rumble as the car began to ascend somewhere in the depths of the shaft.

“They haven’t noticed it yet,” Silvestri said, his eyes fixed on the looters.  Talia turned to see the doors of Elevator Six open, and the looters began to filter inside.

“Let’s go,” Morgan said, giving Lazarus’ wheelchair a shove forward.

“Wait!” hissed Silvestri.  He gripped the arm of the wheelchair and brought it to an abrupt halt.  “We go on Aksel’s mark, not before.”

Aksel’s eyes were glued to his holophone screen.  “Ten seconds,” he said.

The rumble of Elevator Thirty-One grew louder, and Talia glanced back at the looters, where several were still loitering outside the open elevator.  One of them stood with his arm across the doorway to prevent it from closing.

“They’re not leaving,” she said, dismayed.

“They might be trying to hack the system,” Silvestri said.  “Maybe they think they can bring them all back online.”

“Five,” Aksel said tersely.

Elevator Thirty-One chimed, a deafening sound to Talia’s ears, and then the rumbling stopped.  The doors began to open.

The looters were still fixated on Elevator Six and had not turned in their direction.

“Go!” Aksel said.

They swept forward as one, scampering across the floor toward the open doors of the elevator.  There was a shout from down the line, and Talia saw two of the looters had broken away and were now sprinting toward them.

“We’ve got company!” she shouted.

“They won’t get here in time,” Silvestri said, his arms pumping as he ran.  “Just keep going.”

Talia and Silvestri reached the elevator first.  Silvestri braced his arm across the doorway as Talia crouched with her .22 at the ready, the muzzle directed at the looters.  They were growing larger in her field of view every second.  Aksel and Yun hustled past, then Holger.  Morgan and Lazarus followed, the wheelchair moving with such velocity that it bounced as it crossed the elevator’s threshold and clattered into the back wall of the elevator car.  Lazarus grunted as he was tossed unceremoniously from his seat, and the car rocked as his substantial weight thudded into the floor.

“Get in,” Silvestri ordered, clamping a hand on Talia’s shoulder and pulling her backward.  She did as he suggested, safe in the knowledge that the looters were not going to reach them in time.

They stood back as Yun hammered frantically on the door close button, and then an alarm sounded above them.  The doors remained stubbornly apart.

“What the fuck?” Yun cried shrilly.  “What’s going on?”

They turned as one to Aksel, whose face had turned a sickly shade of chalk.

“I… I must have screwed up the override,” he stammered, tapping again at the holophone like his life depended on it.  “Gimme a second.”

“We don’t have that long,” Holger said, and he moved forward, stepping outside the elevator brazenly, in full view of the approaching looters.  His shotgun appeared in his hands and he fired once, then a second time.  Talia stepped forward, the .22 at the ready, but before she could exit, the alarm abruptly fell silent.

The elevator chimed pleasantly and the doors began to close.

“Holger!” Silvestri shouted, lurching forward.  He gripped the brawler by the sleeve and yanked him inside, and as the elevator slid shut there was a hail of bullets against the outer doors.  Talia half expected the doors to open again as the looters reached the call button, but a moment later the elevator whirred and they began to ascend.

“Sorry about that,” Aksel said sheepishly, placing the holophone back in his pocket.

“Indeed,” Lazarus said, clearly unimpressed as he picked himself up, righted the wheelchair, and slumped back into it again.

“No more fuck ups, kid,” Holger said, glowering at Aksel as he replaced the rounds in his shotgun with shells from his pocket.

“Hey, cool it,” Silvestri said.  “We made it, that’s the main thing.  We’re on our way.”

They watched the levels tick by on the floor indicator, and the elevator adopted a rhythmic whir as Gaslight was left behind.  Talia wasn’t sure whether to feel elation at the thought of reaching their fir
st objective, or anxiety, since
they were about to ascend into the unknown.  An uncomfortable silence descended upon them, and Talia could tell that she wasn’t alone in her uncertainty.  The enormity of those simple words –
we’re on our way
– seemed to have sunk in amongst those gathered.  Looking around at the others, Talia could see the concern in their eyes, even among the veterans like Holger and Morgan.

She wondered if this really was the right course of action to be taken.  Had they prepared sufficiently?  Had they given themselves enough time?  Or was this just a suicide mission with only one possible outcome?

“I don’t believe we’re actually doing this,” Yun said, shifting back and forth uncomfortably.  He glanced at Silvestri, then at Talia.  “I mean, it’s just…”

He trailed off, and silence once again resumed.  No one tried to allay his fears or offer comfort.  Holger seemed to have lost his swagger, his sharp tongue finally stilled.  There was nothing but the rumble of the elevator climbing higher to fill the void.

“Listen to me,” Silvestri said quietly.  Talia glanced at him sharply, noting the steel in his voice.  There was an equally hard glint in his eyes.  “I’ve never told anyone this story, but… now seems as good a time as any to put it out there.”

They all turned to him, curious, and Silvestri offered them a faint smile as he began to fiddle with the silver coin in his hand.

“I came from the east,” he began.  “A
long
way east, further than any of you have
been, I’d wager.  Out past the lowlands there’s a place they simply call the wastes.  It’s an empty nothingness that stretches on for a thousand kilometres in every direction, and nothing grows there.  There’s no life, except for that which exists
inside
one small outpost – a habitat named Speck that cradles a fragile cluster of people, perhaps fifty men, women and children.  Together, they live under the rule of an overlord, a cruel man by the name of Siddiqui.

“After a series of misfortunes, that’s where I found myself living, hauling filth and manure through the stinking heat of the greenhouse day after day with barely enough in my belly to keep me alive.

“Siddiqui mistreated and abused those who sought his protection, because there was nothing anyone could do against him.  Outside the thin walls of Speck’s dome were the wastes, and to be cast outside was
to be given a sentence of certain death.

“Siddiqui bedded any woman he chose.  It didn’t matter if she was unwilling, or betrothed to another.  That made little difference.  She either accepted and fell into Siddiqui’s arms, or was cast out into the wastes.  Yet this was not the extent of the atrocities he delivered unto his people.  There was another form of entertainment that Siddiqui favoured even more.

“Every month he would choose two combatants to enter a pit, a hole in the ground no more than five metres across, and he and his retinue would perch above as the two in the pit fought to the death.  He called it his own form of population control.  That was his reasoning, anyway.  But when I first saw the look on his face as he watched a man die, I knew that his motivation had nothing to do with practicality.  There was no justifiable reason for the killings.  Siddiqui lusted for violence, to see death delivered at his behest.  Simple.

“I had not been within Speck’s walls for more than two, or perhaps three months when Siddiqui threw me into the pit to face his champion.  I was given nothing with which to defend myself – neither sword nor stick, but the man who came at me had a knife.  In my younger days, when life had been better, I had been trained in the ways of fighting, not only with weapons but without.  When the champion descended upon me for the easy kill, to gut this skinny, starving boy, I turned the knife in his hand and drove it through his heart.