Escape from Allacrom
The Discovery - 2015
THE CAST:
Junior Sub Commander Bessendra Lea, The Soldier, Grantham Lea
Junior Sub Commander Bessendra Lea was hiding in the shadows on the roof of Allacrom Central Command Centre, waiting for one of two guards on patrol to pass. She intended to climb down to the window of Supreme Commander Mavar Hallot.
She was still in the Trun military but was now acting for Zander, head of the Resistance Movement.
“Oh, to have five minutes in his office,” Zander had wished at the last RM meeting.
Bess knew they would never have allowed her to attempt this; her brother would go ballistic. But needs must, and the truth of it was, she couldn’t resist the challenge.
The guard passed her. Bess resisted the urge to take him out and dashed to the parapet wall. In one smooth movement she was over, the multitude of tiny suction pads on the soles of her feet gripping the flat granite wall. She looked down at the people everywhere on the street below. She wasn’t concerned. People didn’t look up, and they were blind to the colour grey. In her dark bodysuit, she would melt into the background of a city built of granite.
She scaled down to the sixth floor, the window she wanted on her right. The blind was down and the light now on. Damn. It had been dark for two hours before her roof prowling began. She looked for any cracks of light in the window, nothing on the near side. She shuffled around to the far side and found a small gap where the blind didn’t quite reach the window jamb. She peeked inside and immediately drew back, stunned by what she thought she had seen, almost losing her footing.
Bess composed herself and looked again. Two soldiers tied to chairs. A male and a female, semi-stripped with tape over their mouths. She could see all of the man and half of the woman. They both reacted; someone had entered the room. A figure flashed past the blind. Too fast, but it could have been Hallot. She waited patiently. A dancing green haze appeared on the wall behind the captives, disappearing after a minute or so. The man’s eyes opened wide in fear; something was walking around the chairs – a creature, like nothing she had ever seen before. It disappeared. She scooted above the window to think. A flash of light below her coming from the crack; someone had pulled the blind aside. It couldn’t have seen me. She stayed perfectly still until the light disappeared, then hurried back to the roof.
What the hell was it?
Bess suddenly felt exposed. Time to get out of there, and fast.
Bessendra Lea hid in the shadows. She was waiting for things to die down after seeing the strange creature in Hallot’s office, but it seemed that wasn’t going to happen. The two guards on the roof had been joined by three more. Within seconds two search drones appeared in the night sky, hovering at eye level. Two guards linked their visor screens to the on-board optics. The search drones would now be their eyes.
Bess considered her options. She knew the capabilities of the drones well: sensors analysed all movement and heat sources, discarding those that didn’t fit pre-programmed parameters. In this case, probably an adult Trun. She knew discovery would take less than a minute. The images of the two restrained solders in Hallot’s office and the terror on their faces at the unknown creature still buzzed around her head, stopping her usual analytical thought processes kicking in.
Think, for goodness sake!
She tried to think, but her mind was on the scene in Hallot’s office.
Think, think, think…
A stupid idea popped into her head, inspired by her training in the fighting arts. She needed a prop and saw just the thing, secured to a pipe. She ripped the sleeve from her right arm, for effect. Now, to get up close and personal. She pulled back her balaclava, exposing her face, slipped on her ever-present nurse’s uniform – inside out – then emerged out of the shadows, straight for them.
‘Leabody, Environmental Evaluation Corp.’ She flashed the pipe identification plaque at them. All failed to read, “Chilled Water Return Main”
‘Toxic-gas-leak,’ she choked, the staggered, trying to evaluate their reactions. ‘I’ve breathed it in,’ she gasped, falling to her knees.
The two linked to the drones read little into her performance, focused on the hovering parasites. The other two were still turning to look. Only the fifth guard was facing her, and he appeared wary.
You first, my friend.
Bess stayed low, and keeping in a tight ball, flipped over and kicked out with both legs, striking his midriff armour plate. She immediately retracted her legs beneath herself to take her weight. Her hands were free to reach for the mini tasers tucked in her belt. She sprang up at the next two guards, tasering them both on the neck, their only vulnerable spot. The Trun civil war had gotten very ugly, but Bess still couldn’t bring herself to kill her countrymen.
Next, she turned to the drone pilots, who were now aware enough to enter the game. In her peripheral vision, Bess was noted that the first guard was only winded.
Things would get tough now. A quick double tap of the sensors in the glove tips of her index finger and thumb sent blasts from a slim phaser strapped to her wrist and disabled the drones. But her options were getting limited. The armour the guards wore was standard Trun military issue and very efficient, especially at close quarters. A single phaser hit to the armour would diffuse the energy throughout the suit; the wearer would only feel a sharp jolt. In stealth mode, Bess couldn’t carry weapons big or powerful enough to immobilise an armoured guard. Luckily for her, they were all wearing old suits, not the new ones equipped with kinetic pulse and projectile sensing. Those were a whole different world of trouble but rarely seen on soldiers.
But Bessendra Lea had skills that they didn’t.
The first guard, up and recovered, was having a problem with his helmet. He must have damaged it when she downed him. He felt for the clasps to remove it, giving her a split second to reach for her Kayson rope.
Bessendra Lea whipped the rarely seen weapon, lightly snapping one end to activate tiny accelerometers and turning on the Kayson’s properties. This highly technical weapon was known to many but understood by few. Bess was one of a handful of masters.
The two drone guards saw a skinny kid crouching on the floor, looking like Mantress beetle ready to pounce. The one on Bess’s left drew a weapon. She flicked the rope at his arm and the live end tracked around his wrist. At three-quarters of the way around it detected its trailing self and latched on, minuscule barbs interlocking tight.
With one end of the rope secured, she whipped the remaining length at the second guard. Now it was the turn of the scanner at the far end of the rope to search for its trailing self. After a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree loop, it arrived back at the first guard’s arm and latched onto its other end, lassoing both guards.
The smart part of Kayson rope came into effect. The two ends meeting caused a short circuit and the line shrank rapidly. Tiny electro-magnets embedded in the rope trying desperately to get to each other. The result was two guards that might as well have been welded together.
Bess turned to the final guard, who was removing his helmet.
He was a young male Trun, not much older than her, and a bit of a looker. His head cap was thick and luxurious. The pattern of his cap was simple but elegant and painted black, common in soldiers wanting to be intimidating. He had striking eyes, but they were dull and lifeless somehow, and they shouldn’t be. This confused her.
Eyes aside, definitely someone she would find attractive, but not tonight. Time to get out of here. She had used up most of her toys, and if any more guards turned up she would be severely handicapped.
He made an awkward lunge at her.
She easily sidestepped him and went for his head. An arm around his neck, roll him over to the ground, and I’m over the parapet, and away, she thought. But when her bare arm came into contact with his neck, there was a connection – a psychic connection via physical contact. And she didn’t think it was the boy!
‘Help us…’ was all she could make out – a forlorn and somewhat pathetic voice.
‘What?’ Stick to the plan, Bess. Move!
She rolled him onto his back and leaped to the nearby parapet wall, assessing her options. The roof of the adjacent building was a floor down and well within reach. In a moment she was flying through the air, executing a forward somersault on landing, ending back on her feet. The boy was following her, but it appeared to Bess that he had jumped blind and wasn’t going to make it.
What an idiot, she thought. He hit the parapet hard and doubled over it, his legs hanging down the side of the building – seven floors up. He looked slightly concussed and probably winded and began slowly sliding back over the edge of the parapet, toward his death. One hand grabbed the parapet railing, but the other missed it – he was seconds away from falling. She leaped forward and grabbed his free arm, taking his weight. He was able to reassert his grip on the rail. He glanced down at the alley far below him, and then looked up at Bess. The vacant faraway look had gone, replaced with the incredulous, terrified face of someone realising they were about to die.
Bess hung on to him for all she was worth. ‘I can’t hold you much longer. You need to swing your leg up.’ She let go of his hand and reached for his belt to help him swing sideways. It worked, but not to the extent that he was able to reach the top of the parapet with his leg. His momentum was now downwards, and she knew she would soon lose him.
‘Last chance!’ she shouted. ‘Then I drop you!’
He managed to extend his leg sufficiently for his foot to reach the top of the wall, snagging under the parapet rail. He could now reach up with his other hand. Bess grabbed his belt with two hands, dislodging his weapon in the process. The soldier was safe, and she helped him roll over, dumping him unceremoniously onto the flat roof. He tried to stand and though still dazed, just managed it. He instinctively reached for the weapon that now lay in the alleyway below, forcing a similar instinctive reaction from Bess. She drove her fist forward into a soft spot on the side of his neck.
‘Sleep tight, pretty boy.’
She turned away before he had hit the ground and looked for cover, conscious of more guards arriving on the roof of the adjacent building and that the weapon hitting the ground may have attracted some attention. Assessing this side of the building safe to climb, she cocked one leg over the parapet but stopped. Sitting aside the wall, she couldn’t help feeling something was amiss. The idiotic leap of faith, with scant regard for his safety. The change in his eyes. The strange distant voice the first time she had touched him.
Bess looked back at the boy lying on the floor.
Something about him is important.
Junior Sub Commander Bessendra Lea studied the young Trun at her feet that she could hardly move, never mind carry off to a safe distance. What to do?
Lower him down the side of the building? No hover pads, or even ropes.
Turbo lift? No. Keep to the outside of the building. Elevators are under surveillance, twenty-five-seven.
Stairs? How would I even lift him? Never mind carry him down seven flights of stairs.
She risked the personal two-way communicator. ‘Brother. Are you there?’
There was a slight pause. ‘Yes, where are you?’
‘Allacrom CCC,’ she replied.
‘What are you doing there?’
‘Never mind. Can you get an LSRA over to me urgently, with an external mag-lift?’
‘What? What are you doing? Or, what have you done?’
‘No time to explain. Get here quickly, or your sister is toasted flat cake!’
‘Bessendra Lea… heavens help me! I’m coming. If you’re not on the point of death, I’ll kill you.’
She dragged the young soldier into the shadows and out of the line of sight of the other rooftop. No one knows we’re here. Why would they look? Sit tight.
Twenty minutes later Grantham was within telepathic range. ‘Where are you?’
‘I’m on a rooftop immediately due north of Cresswell building. I’ve got a Trun soldier with me – he’s out cold.’
‘That’s Hallot’s offices. Oh, Bess, what have you been doing? What soldier?’
‘I can see you. We’re moving out onto the middle of the roof. Get us both in one swoop.’
Grantham flew the Low-Sky Run-Around down onto them in no time, mag-lift primed and ready to go. He slowed to a stop twenty feet above them, the mag-lift activated, drawing them up. The moment they entered the confines of the ship’s hull, he fired up the engines and sped forward, and with hull doors closing turned vertically and climbed. The only chance to avoid capture was to get in and out before anyone could react. He had done it perfectly but was already thinking of the possible consequences of this reckless rescue when Zander got hold of him.