in the ground, Chris frowned and shouldered the climbing gear he’d thought to pack in the skimmer. The cryodrug had taken longer to get out of his system than he’d expected, and he was finally up to par. Director Hackney was probably pissed, so he thought he’d retrieve Ms. Pain’s lanyard with the VELMA-X chip as a peace offering for when he returned.
Studying all the FQB trails, he’d been 80 percent confident that the P-MIV had landed here, so he did too. His ship was fifty meters back, and he now stood at the precipice of the massive crater the P-MIV had triggered. Walking the perimeter, he chose the side toward which the angled vehicle tipped closest. He would descend from here.
Anchoring his line, he tested its stability then rappelled down. Parts of the vehicle were visible above the cave-in, but they were the most important parts. Namely, the hatch. Once he made it to the outer ring, he could navigate the rubble down that connecting metal spoke to the hatch.
Cussing and sweating, even in his temperature-controlled flight suit, he reached the hatch after thirty minutes.
This close, he could see the hatch was gone, blew out on impact. His heart sank when he saw the amount of dirt. If it was filled, he would have no hope of retrieving the chip. Not unless he was willing to stay up all fucking night digging out the fuselage with his bare hands.
Squatting beside the base, he brushed at the dirt and was pleased when the pile caved in and fell down inside the hull. It was empty, other than the fresh dirt. Strange—but fortunate.
Climbing down through the hatch, he found footholds on the built-in cubbies, the swivel chair, and a bank of tower units and landed beside the main computer terminal. He pushed a few buttons and the screen blipped on.
“Greetings Co-Director Clemmins,” the PHRED operating system announced. “Would you like to proceed to Phase 3 now?”
“No,” he said, irritation clipping his voice, though the computer wouldn’t notice. “Show history.” The screen faded to black, and a scrolling display appeared listing the past executions. He was looking for an upload or saved file—anything indicating Pain had saved VELMA-X to this mainframe. Nothing. “Dammit!” He slammed a fist against the CPU and the ground rumbled.
Alarmed, he scrambled back up the way he came, the vehicle sliding under his boots and panic ripping shallow breaths out of his lungs. Dirt rained on his head. God, he didn’t want to be buried alive.
Reaching the opening, he pulled himself up and through, though the rumbling worsened, and his teeth slammed together. A second look at the hatch: it hadn’t blown off; it had been opened! Shit.
Sweat pouring down his back, he raced along the spoke of metal visible through dirt and back to his dangling rope. With help from the ascender, he pulled himself up the crumbling side of the hole and rolled away from the edge, breathing heavily. Squinting at the sky, he saw the crescent shape of another planet. Confused, he realized he didn’t know which planet the Ikma Scabmal Kama called home.
And if the hatch had been opened, that meant someone else had the chip. It couldn’t be CeCe, could it?
At the last second, he remembered to unclip from the anchor, and he watched in horror as the rim collapsed. He sprinted to the skimmer and strapped in, even though this far from the hole it appeared he was safe.
In vertical takeoff, he watched through the viewport as the hole widened another meter around its circumference and the last visible parts of the P-MIV disappeared underneath another layer of rich black dirt.
“Damn,” he whispered. He had seen the video with his own eyes; CeCe Pain had left the lanyard inside the P-MIV. She came out of it empty-handed. Unless she knew the surveillance vids could capture her actions of that fateful day. Maybe it was a false clue she planted to throw them off her trail. He could still see her writhing and hear her scream. “I don’t know where it is!”
“Fuck!” He slammed his fist against the console. This was supposed to be a quick side trip to get Hackney off his case when he found out he’d left the Lucidity to pursue his own ends.
Esra’s tracking chip still blinked merrily from the little transponder he carried in one of his zippered pockets. She was the real reason he was here. Little slut thought she could leave him? He was the goddamn co-director for IGMC. He’d been more than patient.
Kept his distance while she finished the Kerberos 90 training. Left her alone on the science class ship. As long as she stayed single and did her work, he could observe from afar and bide his time. But then that Pain in the ass, heh, had to go and wreck everything.
Glancing at the angle of the two suns, he guesstimated he had about three hours until sun set. Plugging in the transponder, he steered the tiller until he was pointed in the right direction. It was time for Esra to pay the piper.
And that crazy green bitch Queen had given him some good ideas.