PERSONAL RECORD: DESIGNATION ZETA4542910-9545E
PALLAS STATION
478.2.6.07
My communications link clicked loudly.
“You’ll need to open the door from the inside,” Nate said, “since we don’t have a drone.”
Like a weighted blanket, an out-of-proportion sense of safety settled over me. Nate was here, and between him, Jordan, Zhen, and the drone, I knew I was safe.
Julian Ross could not harm me.
Jordan raised her weapon. Zhen unholstered—was that the word?—hers as well, which made little sense if she was to be my double.
“It is Nate,” I objected.
“Most likely. Stay as far back as you can and keep the drone between you and the door for good measure.”
At her warning, tension percolated underneath my layer of trust, but I did as she bade me. Zhen strode forward, the drone trailing behind her, and touched the panel that opened the door. Nate stepped through, and though I was behind the drone, as Jordan had wished, his eyes found mine. “You’re okay?”
“Nathaniel Timmons.” A smile bloomed on my face. “Yes, I believe we all are.”
One corner of his mouth lifted, but he turned to the others. “Nice bracelet, Zhen, but Alec would like your gold one better.” He grinned. “He’s back in your quarters, out of the infirmary. Wanted me to tell you to be careful.”
Her face lit up, and for three seconds, she closed her eyes and breathed out.
“Ready to roll, J?”
Jordan quirked a small smile. “As ever.”
Nate met my eyes again. “We’re splitting up once we reach the upper levels, so stick close to me.”
“I will,” I said, inwardly applauding myself for the self-control in not adding that doing so was all I wanted.
“We’ve got people waiting, so after you.” Nate made an old-fashioned bow in my direction.
Targeting beams lit the hall. It was difficult to see exactly who was present, but a flat, rectangular shape surprised me.
“Nathaniel Timmons. You brought a hoverbed again.”
“You don’t have to use it,” Nate said. “Walking is good. It’s just in case.”
My cheeks heated. “I am not an invalid.”
The bearded marine’s—no, his name was Quincy—voice sounded over his external link. “After Jordan and DuBois contacted Maxwell, he insisted we bring it as a precaution.”
I spun back to Jordan. “You did not . . . This was when I—before using communications links were—”
“Later,” Nate said gently. “Fuss at them when we’re back.”
“They were worried,” a young voice added.
A sliver of anxiety supplanted indignation. “Eric Thompson?”
I could almost hear a smile in his voice when he answered, “The same.”
“You should not be—”
“He’s good,” Lars interrupted.
Lines of concern, annoyance, and gratification intersected in my heart. “Has the entire station descended to escort us from the lower level?”
“Nah,” Lars said. “Not everyone. Jackson asked for volunteers, but he said half his people was too many.”
“Chat later,” Quincy ordered. “We need to get her to Max.”
“If you’d lock up, sweetheart,” Nate said, “we can move.”
I bit my lip at his endearment, but since I planned on shutting down the drone, there would be no need to worry. We could damage it, destroy its innards, and no one would be able to retrieve its information.
The door closed, and the locks snapped shut. No one would undo what Zhen and I had done. The station—and its jamming field—would be safe. Even if no one ever used it, it was here, a hidden sanctuary. The thought brought a layer of peace.
I turned back to the dim hall full of marines. “I can request the drones to provide light.”
Nate and Quincy gave simultaneous negative answers, but neither explained why. It could not have been for secrecy’s sake, since the targeting beams lacing the hall were anything but stealthy.
Clouds of silt drifted with every step and billowed softly under the drones’ trailing tendrils. We walked silently past the dead roach, its desiccated frame casting shadows that grabbed the uneven light. I snuck a peek at its head. Both antennae had been snapped off, though there was nothing to indicate the perpetrator.
When the first group reached the ladder, Quincy climbed up and sent down a hushed summons that it was clear and to use the lift. Zhen and the drone moved to enter, and I left my spot to grab her drone-free arm, though I could not think what to say. Her dark eyes met mine, and the hint of one of her fierce smiles touched her lips. Both drones followed her obediently, and Eric and two others joined them. The inner and outer doors clanged shut. When I stepped back, Lorik’s drone bumped my shoulder.
Nate’s voice sounded low over his speaker. “She’ll be fine.”
“I know,” I lied.
When the doors flew open, startling me, Nate guided me into the lift. Lars followed us. My stomach dropped as the lift shot up, then stopped abruptly. We exited into a hall mercifully clear of roach debris.
“See?” Lars said. “Everything’s fine.”
In very short order, Jordan, the platform, and the remaining marines joined us.
“We split up at the next junction after the hall turns right,” Nate said.
Zhen’s group led the way. Bootsteps, the whir of drones, the platform’s microantigravity, and the jostling of weapons and equipment could not fill the hallway’s emptiness. Instead, the small noises somehow made the stillness even more daunting. The floor’s blue safety lights combined with the targeting beams to create eerie shapes that moved like awkward marionettes over the people in front of me.
When we neared the turn, however, the baritone I had been dreading echoed down the hall: “Recorder?”
Weapons rose around me, and the hair on the back of my neck stood on end. Ahead of me, Zhen’s fingers twitched over her sidearm, but she fisted her hand and tapped her thigh instead. The marines gathered tightly around her and the drone, hiding her from view. Nate moved in front of me, and Lars disappeared behind.
“Drop it!” Quincy barked, and something clattered. “Hands in the air!”
“Elliott’s in trouble,” Julian Ross begged. “Recorder, I know you’re there. I see the drones.”
The marine to my right shifted closer.
“Please?” Julian Ross’s voice carried the same emotion I had heard when Elliott was waking up. “I have to find him.”
I set a hand on Nate’s back and whispered, “Something is wrong.”
“Please,” Ross begged. “They shot him.”
Someone spat out an epithet, and the datapad in my pocket buzzed. I ignored it.
“Venn? If you’re there, you have to listen. I’m—”
“Leave her out of it,” Nate growled. “Where are your friends?”
“They aren’t my friends!” Ross’s voice sharpened. “They blame me for North’s death.”
Nate squared his stance. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
“They shot Elliott! They injected him with that virus and shot him!”
My stomach twisted, and in a flash of memory, I saw Elliott carrying Freddie through the tunnels. Elliott, apologizing before he sealed the hatch to go save his brother.
Acid burned my throat. I leaned my helmet against Nate’s back.
“Liar.” Jordan’s alto scraped through the hall.
“Nate, please,” I said, and Nate stiffened.
A shuffling noise, then Quincy barked, “Back on your knees!”
“Recorder!”
I set a hand on Nate’s arm and slid past him.
“Get back,” he ordered, but I did not listen.
The drone rose, its tendrils writhing. My datapad buzzed again, and the drone zoomed in front of me. >>Protect.
“I know.” I pushed the tendrils aside.
The drone and I maneuvered through the marines, Nate and Lars at my side, and drew even with Eric, whose face was pale. Before us, Julian Ross knelt on both knees, his hands high above his head. His right hand was swollen, his fingers bent at unnatural angles. Bruises marred his symmetrical features, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. Ice-blue eyes latched onto mine, but that sneer was gone from his face.
“Recorder, Elliott’s out of time.” Ross’s voice cracked. “They beat him, then injected him with the virus. I tried . . . Then they shot him, dragged him off, and knocked me out.” His eyes still on mine, he held out his hands before him, palms up. “Recorder, I swear I’ll tell you anything—everything—just find my brother.”
“Whatever El’s done, we can’t abandon him to be roach fodder,” Eric said, though he kept the muzzle of his weapon pointed at Ross’s bare head. “Please, if not for him, if not for Elliott, for me? He was my first friend.”
His first friend.
Those three words solidified my determination.
“No,” I said. “We cannot.”
“Oh, yes, we can,” a marine said. “A terrorist who attacks innocent women? Part of a group who’s already killed how many and planned to kill millions more?”
Someone else added, “It’s their fault Parker’s dead.”
“Venn, Recorder,” Ross pled over the marines’ rumble of agreement. “Please. The roaches.”
Bile rose as I turned to Quincy and Nate. “If we do not help Elliott, how are we any better than those who would kill us?”
“It’s a matter of scale,” Quincy stated flatly. “Two monsters versus an entire group of people? No comparison.”
I touched his arm. “But, Quincy, your daughters. What would they think?”
Behind the stubble, his jaw ticced.
“Whatever else,” I pressed, “we cannot let the roaches have Elliott as they took Lorik.”
“Timmons?” Quincy asked.
“Stay in line, Ross.” Nate glared at the man before us. “One single stunt will be reason enough. Trust me. I’d welcome a reason.”
“Then, yes?” I asked.
He nodded so slightly that if I had not known him well, I might have missed it.
Heart pounding, I asked, “Julian Ross, where have you searched?”
“I can’t remember.” He scrubbed his uninjured hand over his face. “They pulled us both through some hatch, shot him, then knocked me on the head. The roaches—”
“Are traceable,” I interrupted as the thought occurred to me. “Nate, are you with me?”
At Nate’s quiet affirmative, I interrupted the drone’s continual decree of protection. >>Roach activity nearby?
>>Several.
>>Is there a convergence?
>>One-half kilometer northeast.
It was as good a chance as any, but it was far, and at my current speed, I could be too late.
>>Take me.
>>Danger. Protect.
I did not have time to argue. >>Protect there.
The drone thrashed its tentacles as if in protest, then its arms shot out. Ross flinched as the jointed appendages wrapped around me. I summoned the other two drones while Lorik’s rose into the air.
“I will do my best, Julian Ross.” I flashed Nate a half smile. “Nathaniel Timmons, my heart, try to keep up.”