PERSONAL RECORD: DESIGNATION ZETA4542910-9545E
PALLAS STATION
478.2.6.03
Weapons’ fire reverberated like a physical blow, and though I squeezed my eyes shut, the flashes of light pierced my eyelids. Sound thrust me against the drone, and all its appendages lashed out. Its thicker tentacles wrapped around my hips, waist, and shoulders. When the blasts’ echoes faded and light stopped pummeling me, I squinted into the afterimage-speckled dark.
Dust glittered and sparked like embers around two mounds of smoldering carapaces near where Kyleigh pressed herself against a cabinet. An alarm’s sharp beep cut through the air, and liquid misted from the ceiling. When the smoke dissipated, the alarm shut off, though the fire suppression system continued to sprinkle fluids.
The medic lowered her weapon, but from the edges of my vision, a shadow separated from a crooked desk on my side of the room. My drone’s light dimmed, and its whir deepened as it lifted higher into the air, tugging at me. Despite the steady flow of oxygen my suit provided, I struggled to breathe.
“Jordan,” I gasped. “The desk by the door!”
Scarlet-edged compound eyes gleamed as the roach reared up on its four hind legs, antennae lashing at my friends.
The drone shot into the air. My feet left the floor, and my helmet bumped the ceiling.
Below me, weapons fired, hitting the insect’s lower wings, but it dropped onto its front legs and rushed forward. A brief explosion of matter—and the roach skidded to a stop.
My ragged breath and the drone’s mechanical whine were all I heard. Two and a half meters from the laden trolley, Jordan, Zhen, and the medic braced themselves like a shield in front of Kyleigh, who clutched the cryo gun and a handful of pipettes to her chest. I scanned the room. Nothing twitched. Anxiety loosened its tendrils. The drone did not.
“Jordan!” Had Nate been calling the whole time? “Status!”
“We’re good, Tim.”
“Hall’s still clear,” Nate said. “Might be a good idea to leave.”
“I’ll second that.” Alec’s tone gentled. “Kye?”
“I . . . I’m fine.” Her voice quavered, and the metal canister and the pipettes rattled onto the trolley’s top shelf. Liquid dripped from Kyleigh’s helmet as the suppression system trickled to a stop. “Stars, but that’s enough to wake anyone up. I don’t think I’ll have coffee this morning.”
Over the communications link, Nate said, “Always choose coffee.”
Kyleigh uttered a weak laugh.
The drone tightened its hold. I could feel the pressure through my suit. I tried to reach the datapad and order the drone to release me, but tentacles made it impossible to access my pocket.
The medic patted Kyleigh’s shoulder, then turned around and said, “Recorder, your heart rate . . .” Her sentence trailed off. “Where the—” She released a string of obscenities that surely would merit a fine if documented.
Multiple targeting beams slid over me and past my helmet to the drone.
I whispered, “Stop.”
Jordan and Alec lowered theirs at once, but the medic, the bearded marine, and Zhen did not.
“Her heart rate what?” Nate’s voice sharpened. “Where is she? She’s not out here.”
“The spacing drone has her,” Zhen snarled.
Bootsteps echoed from the hall, and Nate’s voice rang out. “Put her down.”
The drone did not obey.
Abandoning the trolley, Kyleigh darted forward, slipping in the insects’ ooze and the sludge created by water and dust, righting herself on a stray chair. “Zhen, Quincy, please! Shooting drones does no good! Remember what Tia said happened when that one broke Eric’s arm? You have to be calm, reason with it.”
The room dipped as the drone’s antigravity faltered, but the tentacles lifted me higher, once more banging my helmet against the ceiling. I winced and closed my eyes.
The medic hissed. “Stars! It’s going to give her a concussion.”
“The one in the hangar melted before it exploded,” Zhen reminded them. “The underbelly is its weak spot.”
“You can’t!” Kyleigh’s protest rose in pitch. “You’ll hit her.”
“No,” the bearded marine stated, “I won’t.”
“Please—” My voice sounded unfamiliar in my ears. With as much calm as I could muster, I added, “The insectile threat is over. Set me down before all power is drained.” When I opened my eyes, double vision blurred the room beneath me. I could not see Nate—he must have been by the door—so I met Zhen’s dark eyes. “I am unharmed. You must stop threatening it.”
“Do it,” Nate said, and Jordan added, “Now.”
Slowly, the three of them lowered their weapons, but their pronounced scowls were obvious even in the dim red light.
The drone eased down, and my soles touched the floor. Three tentacles withdrew, so I rotated in the fourth’s grasp to read the screen, which was edged with yellow, despite its bizarre actions.
>>Complied. Complied. Complied, scrolled in a steady stream.
My forehead knotted, but I merely said, “Acknowledged.”
>>Charging. Not at full power.
“I know.” I turned away from the drone and found Nate. His tall form remained in the doorway, but with the light behind him, I could not see his face clearly. “I am well.”
The drone’s glow brightened slightly, touching Nate’s features with red. His jaw ticced, and his eyes bored into mine before darting to Jordan. “Like I said, J, it’s clear.”
Jordan made no comment about Nathaniel forsaking his watch over the corridor. “Then let’s get out of here before that changes. Kye, get that cart. Quincy, Alec, watch that grate.”
“Right.” Kyleigh stepped backward, tripping over a long, hooked hind leg. The medic caught her arm.
While the others kept watch, Kyleigh tugged the trolley’s handle, circumventing the closest roach, where fluid oozed and mixed with dust to create something like paste. The three-shelved cart’s wheels caught on something I could not see. Kyleigh gagged and turned her head to the side.
“You’ll be all right, Tristram,” the medic said. “What we need, though, is microAG. Wheels are going to be difficult in that debris.”
“Probably, but you won’t find any. There wasn’t a need for antigrav carts in a room this small. Whenever anyone suggested it, Georgette would tell them not to be lazy.” Kyleigh gave the trolley a yank.
The front wheels clunked over something, but the back wheels caught on whatever it was. I tried not to imagine antennae.
Jordan lifted them clear and asked, “Still bug-free?”
“So far,” Alec said tersely as his targeting beam skimmed the cabinets below the broken grate, then traced the room’s perimeter again.
The bearded marine—Quincy—swore, and four beams zoomed back to the gaping ventilation shaft. A shot reverberated in the laboratory as he moved between Kyleigh and the broken vent. Another shape emerged. Too close—the moving silhouettes that pressed against the floor were too close.
“Get them out, Jordan,” Quincy said sharply.
Zhen grabbed the trolley’s handle. The medic grabbed Kyleigh’s arm and tugged her into the hall while Zhen wrestled the trolley over the threshold. Jordan, Alec, and the bearded marine kept their focus on the dark.
Nate’s hand caught my elbow, and we both ran. The particulate remains of decayed insects billowed under our feet, cushioning the sound of boots on concrete, and the empty charger thudded against my back with each stride.
I lost my footing in the silt, but Nate and the drone kept me from falling.
Zhen’s voice sounded over the communications link: “Door.”
“Won’t close,” the bearded marine said. “Have to block it.”
A masculine grunt replied, and a blast ripped through the air.
Alec’s voice scraped between breaths. “Won’t work for long.”
The corridor stretched before us. Though I tripped more than once, Nate and the drone did not allow me to falter.
“Keep a hold on her, Timmons,” the medic panted. “Her vitals . . . off.”
I forced myself to keep moving.
As we neared the junction, the drone came to a full stop, yanking me out of Nate’s grasp, but his attention remained riveted down the hall, past the turn to the door. He released me, raised his weapon, and fired.
Gasping for air, I lifted my head. Ten meters away, three roaches crouched by a smoking carapace. More antennae twitched from a crack in the ceiling.
“J,” Nate warned, “company ahead.”
Clouds rose as she thundered to a stop at my side. “Just get them out!”
Jordan braced herself and took aim. Another roach went down, and the remaining insects edged back. The antennae withdrew.
While Nate targeted another one, the drone wrapped its tentacles around me once more and partially spooled in its appendages, hauling me up against its belly. With regard for neither Nate’s shouted protest nor my own, it flew down the hall toward the withdrawing roaches, then veered left. Shouts echoed, but the drone kept on. Motion detectors tracked our movement too slowly, and lights flickered on after we passed them. The door and its alcove for retinal scans grew closer.
The drone dipped and released me. Momentum flung me forward, and pain flared as I hit the concrete. The empty charger slammed against the back of my helmet. I hit the wall. Pain fulgurated up my hands and wrists, and gritty clouds obscured my view. I tried to push myself up, but my arms could not support me, and I crumbled back down.
Nate skidded to a halt and helped me to my feet. After a sharp glare at the drone, which had spiraled in all appendages save its four tendrils, he turned about, weapon ready. Within seconds, Kyleigh and the medic jogged up, and Zhen and Alec carried the trolley close behind them.
“J? Quince?” Nate asked.
“On our way,” the bearded marine responded.
Barely winded, Zhen ordered, “The door, Kye!”
Kyleigh darted past me to the scanner. A blue light pulsed, and as the door slid open, the medic edged her way through.
“Lights on. No roaches,” she announced.
Alec and Zhen shoved the trolley through the door, and Kyleigh, Nate, the drone, and I followed. Jordan and the bearded marine rushed past us, and Kyleigh slapped her palm against a button. As the door eased shut, Alec took something fist-sized from his belt, pulled a tab, and hurled the object down the hall. An explosion ignited the dust. A cloud of burning orange rolled toward us, but the door clicked shut, muting the blare of a fire alarm.
Relief hit me in a nearly physical wave.
Despite the roaches, despite everything, we had retrieved the equipment.
“The suppression system must have kicked in,” Kyleigh managed between gulps of air.
A lopsided grin crept across Alec’s features. “Figured it would.”
“Stars, Alec,” Jordan said, “a little warning next time?”
The medic glared at him. “Not a gamble I appreciate.”
“But we did it.” Zhen tapped Kyleigh’s shoulder. “Only lost a couple of pipettes, too.”
The bearded marine, however, squinted into the hall before us. “Expected backup by now.”
Jordan peered past the activated lights, into the dark. “So did I.”
“Probably delayed,” the medic said. “Let’s hope that we don’t run into more bugs. I vote for getting a move on. This had better be all we need, because going back there is a bad idea.”
Jordan’s eyes skimmed the hall, but her voice seemed lighter. “That’s a fair assessment.”
Nate, however, frowned at me. “Why did that spacing drone tie you up like a Festival present and go hurtling off?”
“I do not know. I did not program it to do so.”
“Tell you what,” Alec said. “You can figure that out later, but for now, we need to get you back to rest. You’re looking green again.”
Before I could rebut his analysis, something clattered at my feet. A sharp pop, and magnesium-bright light assaulted my eyes.
I threw my arms over my faceplate, too stunned to count the seconds. A hand caught my upper arm and drew me back. Dull thuds seemed to come from everywhere at once.
A single shot. A feminine shout. A protest cut short.
“I see you fetched the equipment,” a masculine voice said through my communications link.
I pulled my arms down and blinked. Past and around the light burned into my retinas, human shapes dropped from the ceiling. Confusion snaked through me. From the ventilation ductwork? That made no sense, but otherwise, would not the medic and the others have seen them? My drone—Lorik’s drone—had told me nothing.
The medic—
I turned to my left. She was gone. Her helmet lay on the ground, two meters away.
Metal flashed through the air. Alec dropped. Strangled gasps filled my ears, and metal rang on concrete. Zhen fell to her knees beside Alec and the knife near his legs.
Nate shifted his weight, moved in front of me, and widened his stance. To my left, the bearded marine stepped in front of Kyleigh. Jordan positioned herself like a guardian over Alec.
Weapons bristled—at us, at them.
A man wearing a respirator and a thick, quilted jacket stepped forward, flipping a knife, catching it by the blade. Past the bearded marine and Kyleigh, a man in an armored suit hauled the medic into the hallway’s reaching dark. Her head lolled to the side.
Jordan took aim at the figure holding the medic. “Let her go.”
Someone laughed. Why could I not count the attackers? Surely I could count that high?
A man in an armored Consortium suit swung down from the ductwork, landing with catlike fluidity. He straightened and strode toward us. Though bright blotches swam across my vision, my attention latched onto the multiple medical jet injectors he wore like sidearms.
He pulled one out and tossed it to the man holding the medic. The armored man tilted her head back and held the injector against the bare skin under her chin. Delayed recognition struck, and my stomach twisted.
“I applaud your effort,” Skip said conversationally. “But I’ll take that trolley.”