Excision Verdict, page 26
part #5 of ShadowTech Series
“But it’s the best chance we have, while they’re attacking the Ancients.
Another piece fell into place. “They’re not,” Deva said. “Chiron said they’d focus on the Ancients once we were gone. That was nothing but another part of the lie. And we have to warn the others.”
His fingers continued their dance. His mouth twitched.
“Can’t contact them,” he said, and his voice was…not stronger, but less whiny. “Anything in the system, they’ll know.”
“Can’t leave them.” Deva spun, turned to the door, slammed her hand on the terminal. Relief flooded her when it opened. “We have to get back to them.”
She ran into the corridor, heard Wrench clumping after her.
Deva expected guards. She expected to face guns. But the corridor was empty.
They raced to the stairwell. Her legs throbbed as she pulled herself up, three steps at a time. Wrench wheezed behind her.
The clattering made her turn. Wrench bent down, picked up his terminal.
“Sorry,” he said.
He turned the palmie, inspecting for damage. Then his face fell.
“No,” he muttered. He tapped and swiped. “No, no, no, no, no! This isn’t happening!”
Deva leaned in, tried to catch a glimpse of the screen. “What?”
“I…I didn’t do anything. You saw that, right? I didn’t touch it!”
Deva’s heart sank. Because she knew what was happening.
More manipulation.
“They’re opening, aren’t they?” she said.
“I didn’t…it wasn’t me! I didn’t open the bloody doors!”
“I know.” Her stomach twisted, felt like an empty cavern. “Failsafe. Company always has contingencies.”
Wrench sniffed, wiped his sleeve across his face. “The worm,” he said. “It was rigged.” His voice almost cracked.
“Not your fault. They’re playing us.” And Deva straightened up, turned to the door. “So we have to get back to the others. Have to warn whoever we can. Come on!”
She threw the door open, rushed out. Wrench followed.
And the sharp crack of gunfire echoed down the corridor.
Wrench slapped a hand on her arm. “What was that?”
“Nothing we can stop. Come on.”
She pulled him into the corridor, then ran. Metal glinted in her hand—her screwdriver. Nothing against a Preben, but if she had the element of surprise, she could bring at least one guard down, right?
Another burst of shooting. A shout—anger, pain, Deva couldn’t tell. But the sounds were closer.
They ran on. Deva held her screwdriver in front of her, stabbed it forward with each step, with each swing of her arms. Her forearm ached, and she knew she gripped it too tight.
The door to their work-room hung open. The air smelt of violence—gunfire and that sickening coppery stink Deva was becoming all too familiar with.
She didn’t slow. Grabbed the door-frame, swung herself into the room, screwdriver at the ready.
Driskell stood between two desks. He held a Preben. Red splotches speckled his face. There was a body on the floor at his feet, wore a grey uniform, lay in a spreading red stain.
There were more bodies, closer to the door. Three, all wearing company uniforms. Others, in clothing she recognised from the boat that had brought them to Haven’s Deep. And in the far corner, two figures crouching and shaking. One of them whimpered.
Driskell turned. “Deva?” Like he hadn’t expected to see her again.
She stepped into the room. “It’s a set-up.”
Driskell nodded, looked at the weapon in his hand. He spoke slowly. “Figured that. Guards brought back the others. Thought it was suspicious when they stood by the door. Reckon I knew when their eyes glazed over. Drew as soon as they did.”
He breathed heavily. His shoulders slumped forward.
“Did what you needed to do,” Deva said. She pointed to his weapon—a special, something that would get past Kaiahive’s screening, because the company wouldn’t want Heralds bringing weapons with them. “At least you were ready.”
“Trained. Never thought I’d need to use it.” He pulled a face. “Didn’t all make it.”
The two in the corner stood taller now—Aline and Blaine. He put his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close.
Like that would offer any protection.
Deva reached down, picked up one of the guards’ discarded Prebens. She tossed it across the room. It stopped by Blaine’s boot.
“Can’t stay here,” she said. “Need to get out, and we need to be ready for anything.”
She grabbed a second Preben, and it followed the first. Alina buried her head in Blaine’s chest.
“Can’t be squeamish,” Deva said. “Come on.” She turned, stood to one side.
Wrench still stood in the corridor, but he’d picked up a weapon, gripped it tight.
Driskell stepped forward. “Chiron said you were a hard one.” His face twisted. “You reckon he’s okay?”
Deva winced. “Have to think of ourselves first. We’re no use to anyone else if we’re dead.” She forced her shoulders back. “You know the best way out of here?”
Driskell nodded. “I’ve studied the schematics.” He turned. “Alina, Blaine—we’re going. If the girl can cope, then so can you.”
Tough love, but it worked. Blaine nodded as Alina pulled away from him. Her eyes were red, her face wet. They both bent down for the Prebens, then moved around the desks to stand with Driskell.
Deva jerked her head to the door. “You lead. Show us the way out.” She reached down for another Preben, checked it as she rose—only fired once, undamaged. “Any company scum try to stop us, we take them out.”
Ryann
Ryann looked past Tryn, where the others frowned as they received Sinon’s message. “There’s a change of plan,” she said. “Follow the marker. Tryn, you go with them.”
She ran to the vehicle pool. Iden and two others stood in an arc around the supposedly secret exit, and another three watched the main exit. But they turned to face Ryann, their brows knitted in confusion.
“We’ve got another contingency,” she said. “Follow the new marker.”
Iden sighed in relief. “Just like Annys to have back-up contingencies. I knew she had it under control.”
Ryann nodded—it helped push down the anger. “Of course.”
Erin lifted her weapon high. “Need to watch the doors. What if they come through?”
“They have rocket launchers. Do you really want to face them?”
She paled. As Iden and the others jogged past Erin hesitated. She reached a hand out and rested it on the bodywork of her transit. She muttered something under her breath.
Then she nodded and raced after the others.
Ryann followed. When they headed towards Taran’s location—following the marker—Ryan ducked into a corridor and returned to the main entrance.
Annys didn’t sound happy.
She stood by the main doors, weapon in hand, her mouth a straight, hard line. The others were still at their positions, but they all eyed both Annys and Ryann. Their traces were heavy with uncertainty.
Ryann took a breath. She looked past Annys, to the others. “We’ve got a way out.”
They shuffled. A couple almost cracked smiles. When the first started to move, Annys held up a hand.
“Hold steady! Watch those doors. The moment they come through, open fire.” She spun to face Ryann. “We stick to the proper plan.” And, through a wide suss,
Ryann swallowed. She told herself she could do this. She sussed wide.
Annys’ eyes glazed.
Ryann ignored her. She checked sensor feeds and saw armed personnel approaching all their exits.
All but the ones she’d set up.
She pushed past Annys and faced those manning their stations. “It’s time to go.”
“No!” Annys stepped toe-to-toe with Ryann, tilted her head back and thrust her nose towards Ryann’s face. “You’re not in control here. I am!” She reached an arm out to push Ryann back.
Ryann knocked the arm away. “Go.” She didn’t turn her head towards Annys, ignoring the seething glare. “If you stay, they’ll kill you. Go, and you have a chance.”
“No!” Annys shouldered into Ryann.
The attempt didn’t work. Ryann stood firm, leaning in to Annys’ small frame.
“Make your own decisions,” she said. And only then did she turn to look at Annys.
The woman’s face was red. Her whole body trembled with rage.
“We can get out, Annys.”
Ryann stepped aside. Annys had to throw out a hand for balance. Ryann moved to the side of the corridor and pointed, away from the doors, in the direction of the markers.
The first one to move was a mechanic called Makeena. She holstered her Preben, then walked between Annys and Ryann without lifting her head. Once past the two of them she ran.
That broke the fear in the others. They all followed. Annys watched with wide eyes. She held up one hand as if she wanted to stop them, but didn’t reach out. She looked small and deflated.
But she still had strength. As Ryann stepped forward to follow the others, the woman grabbed her arm, pulling hard enough that Ryann spun to face her once more.
“This is treachery!” Annys lifted her Preben to Ryann’s face.
Ryann punched.
She wasn’t proud of the action, but she wasn’t about to be threatened like this. Nor was she going to let Annys stop their escape.
The woman staggered back. Her Preben clattered to the ground. Annys lifted a hand to her face. When she pulled it away blood smeared her palm.
Ryann sussed.
She reached for Annys. The woman swiped her arm away.
There was an explosion outside. The lights flickered.
Sinon sussed.
Ryann looked down at Annys. “I’m going,” she said. Then she turned and ran.
A second explosion knocked dust from the ceiling. The ground shook. The doors behind her creaked, but held.
She raced around a corner and caught sight of Annys behind her. Ahead, Taran stood beside the open conduit. There were sweat-stains under his arms and across his chest. His hair was a mess. But he smiled when he saw Ryann.
She unholstered the Preben and held it out to him. “You wanted a weapon.”
He took it with a nod.
Ryann turned as Annys caught up. “You first.”
Annys’ stare was hard and cold. She pushed past Ryann and clambered into the conduit and through the open panel to the rear.
Ryann nodded to Taran. “You next.”
He shook his head and lifted his Preben. “I’ll watch your back.”
“I’m pulling rank. Go.”
A flash of relief washed over his face. The ground vibrated and the lights flickered again, then died.
Ryann pulled up filters, enough to see Taran holster his weapon and then pull himself through the conduit. She followed.
It wasn’t over yet.
Deva
Driskell led them along corridors and up a flight of stairs. Deva tried to recall the plans she’d seen, but had to admit she was lost.
There were no guards, though. No company workers at all. It was like the whole base had been deserted. And every door they reached was wide open.
“Doesn’t make sense,” Wrench said. “Why open all the doors for us?”
Driskell shrugged. “Tempting our people inside? If you set a trap, you don’t spring it until your target’s in the jaws.”
“And if we’ve hacked their system and broken in, they’re acting in self-defence,” Deva said. “That’s how they’ll justify their actions.”
“That’s barbaric!” Wrench’s voice rose an octave and cracked.
“That’s the company.” Driskell pushed through into the next corridor. “So we have to get out. We’re close to the port area now.”
Deva frowned. “Won’t that be swarming with their people?”
“Not if we aim for the higher walk-ways.”
He didn’t run, but he walked fast. Deva followed, the Preben she’d picked up tight in her sweaty hand. Wrench was so close she could feel his breath on her neck. And Alina and Blaine brought up the rear.
They climbed a service stairwell. Sounds echoed off the cold walls—shouts and gunfire, but muffled. They reached a metal door with one of those wheel locks, the kind Deva had seen on schematics of old boats. The shots, shouts and crashes sounded closer.
“This it?” Deva asked
Driskell nodded. “We won’t know what to expect.”
“Can you sense traces?” Deva turned. “Any of you?”
They all shook their heads. “Not my speciality,” Alina muttered.
“This door’s toughened,” Driskell said. He placed his weapon against the edge. “When we open it, things’ll get…interesting.”
He looked to Deva with a question in his eyes. She nodded, stepped forward.
The metal was cold. She gripped the wheel and turned. The metal squeaked.
“Question,” she said. “What if there are agents right outside?”
“We take them out.”
“And if they’re watching the door? They’ll open fire the second they see it moving.”
Driskell waggled his Preben. “Ready as I can be.”
Deva gave the wheel another turn, then looked up. This corridor seemed modelled on old boat schematics, things from decades ago—the walls and ceiling were lined, like they’d been built from panels fitted to a metal lattice.
Which gave her an idea.
She stepped back. “They’ll expect us to be standing and crouching, right?”
Driskell nodded. “You got an idea?”
Deva nodded, pointed to the structural lattice on the walls. “We don’t give them what they expect,” she said.
She clambered up the side of the corridor, then leaned out over the top of the door, holding her weight with one hand as she brought the Preben down. When the door swung back, she’d fire from the top of the opening, her body safe against the roof.
She signalled to the others.
Alina clambered up after her, holding herself close to Deva, her weapon ready. Her face was still red from her tears, but she held her jaw firm, breathed with determination. Wrench climbed on the other side. Tried to copy Deva’s stance, but had to wedge himself against the lattice, didn’t look comfortable. Blaine retreated to the corner of the corridor and crouched before lifting his gun to cover them. And Driskell spun the wheel to open the door.
The sounds of fighting filled her mind as Deva watched and waited. Driskell’s hair plastered the top of his head, and beads of sweat ran down his face. He turned the wheel. The door clunked.
He looked up. Deva nodded.
She held her breath as he pushed.
The door creaked open.
Metal pinged with gunfire. Wrench cried out in shock.
As soon as Deva saw a gap at the top of the door she stuck the barrel of her Preben through, double-triggered to over-ride the lattice lock. Fired over and over.
The Preben bucked. She closed her mind to the cracks of each shot, focused on holding her body steady, on shifting her aim. But she caught sight of Alina and Wrench firing, of Driskell flattened against the wall, his own Preben barking.
There were shouts and cries from outside. There were metallic clunks.
Then the shooting stopped.
Deva breathed.
Driskell pushed away from the wall. He leaned closer to the open door. He looked up at Deva and nodded.
She dropped. Alina and Wrench climbed down as she crouched, brought her Preben up to the side of the doorframe.
“They might have others waiting,” Driskell said.
“So we do this fast.” Deva steadied her gun hand. “I take this side, you take the other.”
He nodded. He eased his weapon around the door.
“Now!” Driskell yelled.
He leaned out and fired. Deva’s Preben bucked again as she sprayed bullets. The door opened further, and both Alina and Wrench stuck their own weapons out, added to the barrage.
When Driskell’s hand fell on her shoulder she almost turned and fired on him.
“We’re clear,” he said.
They straightened, and stepped out onto the walk-way. Blaine joined them.
There were two bodies at the edge of the walk-way, opposite the door. They leaned against the railings. Neither moved.
Three more bodies further along, but no pooling blood—it dripped through the holes in the metal flooring. Guns lay beside the dead guards.
There was smoke in the air, and the stink of burning.
Deva stepped to the railing and looked down at the port. Wrench joined her.
“It’s a massacre!” he said.
Bodies littered the walk-ways of the port. Some hung off the edge, half in the water. Boats sent flames and heavy black smoke into the sky.
And the fighting wasn’t over. Figures hid and ran, opened fire, darted for cover. They wore black and grey, and Deva couldn’t tell who was a Herald and who was with the company.
Deva looked back along the walk-way they stood on. There was no sign of activity.
Yet.
“Won’t take them long to spot us,” she said, pushing away from the railing. “We need to get out of here.”
Another piece fell into place. “They’re not,” Deva said. “Chiron said they’d focus on the Ancients once we were gone. That was nothing but another part of the lie. And we have to warn the others.”
His fingers continued their dance. His mouth twitched.
“Can’t contact them,” he said, and his voice was…not stronger, but less whiny. “Anything in the system, they’ll know.”
“Can’t leave them.” Deva spun, turned to the door, slammed her hand on the terminal. Relief flooded her when it opened. “We have to get back to them.”
She ran into the corridor, heard Wrench clumping after her.
Deva expected guards. She expected to face guns. But the corridor was empty.
They raced to the stairwell. Her legs throbbed as she pulled herself up, three steps at a time. Wrench wheezed behind her.
The clattering made her turn. Wrench bent down, picked up his terminal.
“Sorry,” he said.
He turned the palmie, inspecting for damage. Then his face fell.
“No,” he muttered. He tapped and swiped. “No, no, no, no, no! This isn’t happening!”
Deva leaned in, tried to catch a glimpse of the screen. “What?”
“I…I didn’t do anything. You saw that, right? I didn’t touch it!”
Deva’s heart sank. Because she knew what was happening.
More manipulation.
“They’re opening, aren’t they?” she said.
“I didn’t…it wasn’t me! I didn’t open the bloody doors!”
“I know.” Her stomach twisted, felt like an empty cavern. “Failsafe. Company always has contingencies.”
Wrench sniffed, wiped his sleeve across his face. “The worm,” he said. “It was rigged.” His voice almost cracked.
“Not your fault. They’re playing us.” And Deva straightened up, turned to the door. “So we have to get back to the others. Have to warn whoever we can. Come on!”
She threw the door open, rushed out. Wrench followed.
And the sharp crack of gunfire echoed down the corridor.
Wrench slapped a hand on her arm. “What was that?”
“Nothing we can stop. Come on.”
She pulled him into the corridor, then ran. Metal glinted in her hand—her screwdriver. Nothing against a Preben, but if she had the element of surprise, she could bring at least one guard down, right?
Another burst of shooting. A shout—anger, pain, Deva couldn’t tell. But the sounds were closer.
They ran on. Deva held her screwdriver in front of her, stabbed it forward with each step, with each swing of her arms. Her forearm ached, and she knew she gripped it too tight.
The door to their work-room hung open. The air smelt of violence—gunfire and that sickening coppery stink Deva was becoming all too familiar with.
She didn’t slow. Grabbed the door-frame, swung herself into the room, screwdriver at the ready.
Driskell stood between two desks. He held a Preben. Red splotches speckled his face. There was a body on the floor at his feet, wore a grey uniform, lay in a spreading red stain.
There were more bodies, closer to the door. Three, all wearing company uniforms. Others, in clothing she recognised from the boat that had brought them to Haven’s Deep. And in the far corner, two figures crouching and shaking. One of them whimpered.
Driskell turned. “Deva?” Like he hadn’t expected to see her again.
She stepped into the room. “It’s a set-up.”
Driskell nodded, looked at the weapon in his hand. He spoke slowly. “Figured that. Guards brought back the others. Thought it was suspicious when they stood by the door. Reckon I knew when their eyes glazed over. Drew as soon as they did.”
He breathed heavily. His shoulders slumped forward.
“Did what you needed to do,” Deva said. She pointed to his weapon—a special, something that would get past Kaiahive’s screening, because the company wouldn’t want Heralds bringing weapons with them. “At least you were ready.”
“Trained. Never thought I’d need to use it.” He pulled a face. “Didn’t all make it.”
The two in the corner stood taller now—Aline and Blaine. He put his arm around her shoulders, pulled her close.
Like that would offer any protection.
Deva reached down, picked up one of the guards’ discarded Prebens. She tossed it across the room. It stopped by Blaine’s boot.
“Can’t stay here,” she said. “Need to get out, and we need to be ready for anything.”
She grabbed a second Preben, and it followed the first. Alina buried her head in Blaine’s chest.
“Can’t be squeamish,” Deva said. “Come on.” She turned, stood to one side.
Wrench still stood in the corridor, but he’d picked up a weapon, gripped it tight.
Driskell stepped forward. “Chiron said you were a hard one.” His face twisted. “You reckon he’s okay?”
Deva winced. “Have to think of ourselves first. We’re no use to anyone else if we’re dead.” She forced her shoulders back. “You know the best way out of here?”
Driskell nodded. “I’ve studied the schematics.” He turned. “Alina, Blaine—we’re going. If the girl can cope, then so can you.”
Tough love, but it worked. Blaine nodded as Alina pulled away from him. Her eyes were red, her face wet. They both bent down for the Prebens, then moved around the desks to stand with Driskell.
Deva jerked her head to the door. “You lead. Show us the way out.” She reached down for another Preben, checked it as she rose—only fired once, undamaged. “Any company scum try to stop us, we take them out.”
Ryann
Ryann looked past Tryn, where the others frowned as they received Sinon’s message. “There’s a change of plan,” she said. “Follow the marker. Tryn, you go with them.”
She ran to the vehicle pool. Iden and two others stood in an arc around the supposedly secret exit, and another three watched the main exit. But they turned to face Ryann, their brows knitted in confusion.
“We’ve got another contingency,” she said. “Follow the new marker.”
Iden sighed in relief. “Just like Annys to have back-up contingencies. I knew she had it under control.”
Ryann nodded—it helped push down the anger. “Of course.”
Erin lifted her weapon high. “Need to watch the doors. What if they come through?”
“They have rocket launchers. Do you really want to face them?”
She paled. As Iden and the others jogged past Erin hesitated. She reached a hand out and rested it on the bodywork of her transit. She muttered something under her breath.
Then she nodded and raced after the others.
Ryann followed. When they headed towards Taran’s location—following the marker—Ryan ducked into a corridor and returned to the main entrance.
She stood by the main doors, weapon in hand, her mouth a straight, hard line. The others were still at their positions, but they all eyed both Annys and Ryann. Their traces were heavy with uncertainty.
Ryann took a breath. She looked past Annys, to the others. “We’ve got a way out.”
They shuffled. A couple almost cracked smiles. When the first started to move, Annys held up a hand.
“Hold steady! Watch those doors. The moment they come through, open fire.” She spun to face Ryann. “We stick to the proper plan.” And, through a wide suss,
Ryann swallowed. She told herself she could do this. She sussed wide.
Annys’ eyes glazed.
Ryann ignored her. She checked sensor feeds and saw armed personnel approaching all their exits.
All but the ones she’d set up.
She pushed past Annys and faced those manning their stations. “It’s time to go.”
“No!” Annys stepped toe-to-toe with Ryann, tilted her head back and thrust her nose towards Ryann’s face. “You’re not in control here. I am!” She reached an arm out to push Ryann back.
Ryann knocked the arm away. “Go.” She didn’t turn her head towards Annys, ignoring the seething glare. “If you stay, they’ll kill you. Go, and you have a chance.”
“No!” Annys shouldered into Ryann.
The attempt didn’t work. Ryann stood firm, leaning in to Annys’ small frame.
“Make your own decisions,” she said. And only then did she turn to look at Annys.
The woman’s face was red. Her whole body trembled with rage.
“We can get out, Annys.”
Ryann stepped aside. Annys had to throw out a hand for balance. Ryann moved to the side of the corridor and pointed, away from the doors, in the direction of the markers.
The first one to move was a mechanic called Makeena. She holstered her Preben, then walked between Annys and Ryann without lifting her head. Once past the two of them she ran.
That broke the fear in the others. They all followed. Annys watched with wide eyes. She held up one hand as if she wanted to stop them, but didn’t reach out. She looked small and deflated.
But she still had strength. As Ryann stepped forward to follow the others, the woman grabbed her arm, pulling hard enough that Ryann spun to face her once more.
“This is treachery!” Annys lifted her Preben to Ryann’s face.
Ryann punched.
She wasn’t proud of the action, but she wasn’t about to be threatened like this. Nor was she going to let Annys stop their escape.
The woman staggered back. Her Preben clattered to the ground. Annys lifted a hand to her face. When she pulled it away blood smeared her palm.
She reached for Annys. The woman swiped her arm away.
There was an explosion outside. The lights flickered.
Ryann looked down at Annys. “I’m going,” she said. Then she turned and ran.
A second explosion knocked dust from the ceiling. The ground shook. The doors behind her creaked, but held.
She raced around a corner and caught sight of Annys behind her. Ahead, Taran stood beside the open conduit. There were sweat-stains under his arms and across his chest. His hair was a mess. But he smiled when he saw Ryann.
She unholstered the Preben and held it out to him. “You wanted a weapon.”
He took it with a nod.
Ryann turned as Annys caught up. “You first.”
Annys’ stare was hard and cold.
Ryann nodded to Taran. “You next.”
He shook his head and lifted his Preben. “I’ll watch your back.”
“I’m pulling rank. Go.”
A flash of relief washed over his face. The ground vibrated and the lights flickered again, then died.
Ryann pulled up filters, enough to see Taran holster his weapon and then pull himself through the conduit. She followed.
It wasn’t over yet.
Deva
Driskell led them along corridors and up a flight of stairs. Deva tried to recall the plans she’d seen, but had to admit she was lost.
There were no guards, though. No company workers at all. It was like the whole base had been deserted. And every door they reached was wide open.
“Doesn’t make sense,” Wrench said. “Why open all the doors for us?”
Driskell shrugged. “Tempting our people inside? If you set a trap, you don’t spring it until your target’s in the jaws.”
“And if we’ve hacked their system and broken in, they’re acting in self-defence,” Deva said. “That’s how they’ll justify their actions.”
“That’s barbaric!” Wrench’s voice rose an octave and cracked.
“That’s the company.” Driskell pushed through into the next corridor. “So we have to get out. We’re close to the port area now.”
Deva frowned. “Won’t that be swarming with their people?”
“Not if we aim for the higher walk-ways.”
He didn’t run, but he walked fast. Deva followed, the Preben she’d picked up tight in her sweaty hand. Wrench was so close she could feel his breath on her neck. And Alina and Blaine brought up the rear.
They climbed a service stairwell. Sounds echoed off the cold walls—shouts and gunfire, but muffled. They reached a metal door with one of those wheel locks, the kind Deva had seen on schematics of old boats. The shots, shouts and crashes sounded closer.
“This it?” Deva asked
Driskell nodded. “We won’t know what to expect.”
“Can you sense traces?” Deva turned. “Any of you?”
They all shook their heads. “Not my speciality,” Alina muttered.
“This door’s toughened,” Driskell said. He placed his weapon against the edge. “When we open it, things’ll get…interesting.”
He looked to Deva with a question in his eyes. She nodded, stepped forward.
The metal was cold. She gripped the wheel and turned. The metal squeaked.
“Question,” she said. “What if there are agents right outside?”
“We take them out.”
“And if they’re watching the door? They’ll open fire the second they see it moving.”
Driskell waggled his Preben. “Ready as I can be.”
Deva gave the wheel another turn, then looked up. This corridor seemed modelled on old boat schematics, things from decades ago—the walls and ceiling were lined, like they’d been built from panels fitted to a metal lattice.
Which gave her an idea.
She stepped back. “They’ll expect us to be standing and crouching, right?”
Driskell nodded. “You got an idea?”
Deva nodded, pointed to the structural lattice on the walls. “We don’t give them what they expect,” she said.
She clambered up the side of the corridor, then leaned out over the top of the door, holding her weight with one hand as she brought the Preben down. When the door swung back, she’d fire from the top of the opening, her body safe against the roof.
She signalled to the others.
Alina clambered up after her, holding herself close to Deva, her weapon ready. Her face was still red from her tears, but she held her jaw firm, breathed with determination. Wrench climbed on the other side. Tried to copy Deva’s stance, but had to wedge himself against the lattice, didn’t look comfortable. Blaine retreated to the corner of the corridor and crouched before lifting his gun to cover them. And Driskell spun the wheel to open the door.
The sounds of fighting filled her mind as Deva watched and waited. Driskell’s hair plastered the top of his head, and beads of sweat ran down his face. He turned the wheel. The door clunked.
He looked up. Deva nodded.
She held her breath as he pushed.
The door creaked open.
Metal pinged with gunfire. Wrench cried out in shock.
As soon as Deva saw a gap at the top of the door she stuck the barrel of her Preben through, double-triggered to over-ride the lattice lock. Fired over and over.
The Preben bucked. She closed her mind to the cracks of each shot, focused on holding her body steady, on shifting her aim. But she caught sight of Alina and Wrench firing, of Driskell flattened against the wall, his own Preben barking.
There were shouts and cries from outside. There were metallic clunks.
Then the shooting stopped.
Deva breathed.
Driskell pushed away from the wall. He leaned closer to the open door. He looked up at Deva and nodded.
She dropped. Alina and Wrench climbed down as she crouched, brought her Preben up to the side of the doorframe.
“They might have others waiting,” Driskell said.
“So we do this fast.” Deva steadied her gun hand. “I take this side, you take the other.”
He nodded. He eased his weapon around the door.
“Now!” Driskell yelled.
He leaned out and fired. Deva’s Preben bucked again as she sprayed bullets. The door opened further, and both Alina and Wrench stuck their own weapons out, added to the barrage.
When Driskell’s hand fell on her shoulder she almost turned and fired on him.
“We’re clear,” he said.
They straightened, and stepped out onto the walk-way. Blaine joined them.
There were two bodies at the edge of the walk-way, opposite the door. They leaned against the railings. Neither moved.
Three more bodies further along, but no pooling blood—it dripped through the holes in the metal flooring. Guns lay beside the dead guards.
There was smoke in the air, and the stink of burning.
Deva stepped to the railing and looked down at the port. Wrench joined her.
“It’s a massacre!” he said.
Bodies littered the walk-ways of the port. Some hung off the edge, half in the water. Boats sent flames and heavy black smoke into the sky.
And the fighting wasn’t over. Figures hid and ran, opened fire, darted for cover. They wore black and grey, and Deva couldn’t tell who was a Herald and who was with the company.
Deva looked back along the walk-way they stood on. There was no sign of activity.
Yet.
“Won’t take them long to spot us,” she said, pushing away from the railing. “We need to get out of here.”
