“I’m on my way to my ship with a badly injured crewmember,” Grady said. “How can we help?”
“I need you to obliterate ops center.”
“Come again, Major? We must have a bad connection. For a moment there, I could’ve sworn you said you wanted us to destroy the main control room.”
“You heard right,” Kotov said. “I’m rallying our troops across station with Captain Prentice’s help, but am prevented from calling in reinforcements from outlying outposts or our support base on nearby moon. And if help does try to reach us, those station defenses now under enemy control will open fire. It’ll take too long to battle through to ops center or bypass its control mechanisms before imperial fleet arrives. Like I say, ops center is reinforced to resist enemy incursion. We just never figure on hostiles being from within.”
“So you need a drastic solution, is that it?” Grady said, his gaze flicking to Zoe. He had to end this conversation fast and get moving before her condition worsened, or pursuers found them. “Make it quick, Major. I need to get my first officer to our medbay.”
“Am sending base’s detailed schematic to your AI,” Kotov said. “Hull around primary control room is heavily shielded, but there’s potential weak spot, a hidden access hatch for emergency ingress and egress. It’s closely guarded secret, and I doubt if Cassandra is aware of its existence, since she’s not a member of base security. With station’s energy barrier down, hatch is vulnerable. I want you to detonate a single plasma torpedo at that exact point. Blowback from blast should eradicate ops center and kill everyone in it, including Cassandra. We can then use secondary control room to restore access to external comms and the defensive network.”
“Won’t the impact affect that entire section of the station, too?”
“Negative. Blast doors should prevent explosion from spreading beyond ops center, if your strike is precise. As precaution, once you’re in position, I will pull my troops back and seal off area to prevent more widespread damage or depressurization. It’s far enough away from residential blocks that residents should be unharmed. Is gamble we must take or risk losing entire station.”
“Why not have one of your fighters make the shot?”
“I can’t contact nearest patrol craft,” Kotov said. “And hangar bay housing rest of the fighters left on station has been sabotaged. Engineers are already working on repair, but nothing can launch until damage fixed. We’re running out of time. Your ship is my best hope of stopping Cassandra and saving station.”
“Alright,” Grady said. “We’ll do it. I’ll comm you when we’re about to fire the torpedo.”
“Thank you, Captain,” Kotov said in a warm voice. “Just one problem. The defensive array under imperial control will target your ship as soon as you undock.”
“Understood. One challenge at a time,” Grady replied. “I’ll be in touch.”
He swiped the side of his ear-mic, ending the conversation, and gestured to the narrower of the two trails facing them. “Let’s try this way. I’ve a feeling the more well-used path loops around to the grassy area we just left. Not somewhere we want to be right now.”
They heard the crack of a branch breaking in the distance. “Uh-oh, someone may be following us,” Grady murmured as they headed along the track, supporting Zoe between them.
“Sounds like someone large and clumsy,” Mbeki whispered.
“Or someone who doesn’t care about giving away their position.” The two men shared a look. “Cyborg?” Mbeki said. Grady’s only response was a sharp nod as he gestured for them to keep going.
The trail ended at the edge of the woods, close to the transparent wall of the dome and far from the open section where the podium stood. Grady looked around in confusion. “This path was made for a reason, even if it’s not as well-traveled as the wider track. There’s got to be something here.”
Then he spotted it, a circular hatch in the ground a few feet away, half covered by a tall bush, its spindly branches bending under the weight of a profusion of glossy, forest green leaves. “Maintenance hatch,” he whispered, pointing it out. “Constructed so as not to be obtrusive. Seems we go down.”
There was an immediate difficulty. The composite steel cover had a handle and hinges, all in good working order, suggesting the entry point was well-used by grounds staff tending to the park.
Unfortunately, a panel was recessed into the center of the hatch, sporting lettered and numbered buttons and a tiny screen. “Damn, it’s passcode secured,” Grady murmured. On impulse, he tried the handle, but it refused to budge. He sent the sergeant a sheepish grin. “Worth a shot.”
Mbeki grunted and gazed into the densely packed trees at their rear. “It’s a different kind of shooting that worries me.”
“Right,” Grady whispered. “No time to dawdle.” He fished a compact handheld device from his inside jacket pocket. In the interest of looking more presentable for his speech, he’d opted not to wear his replacement forearm patch over his flight jacket—now repaired after his encounter with the female cyborg.
Holding the unit in his left hand, its screen aglow, Grady bent over the entry pad and punched in one of the master access codes Phil had earlier given him, telling him it would make it easier to get around the station without the need for anyone to escort him. He was never more grateful for his renewed friend’s trust.
“Fingers crossed Cassandra hasn’t thought to have the maintenance codes changed yet. Probably not high on her task list while she’s in the act of staging a coup d’état.”
He grunted with relief as the small light above the control pad glinted green. With a swift flick of his wrist, he wrenched the hatch open, thankful for the workers who ensured the hinges were well-oiled. Sliding his pistol into its holster, he peered down into the dark opening. The silvery rungs of a ladder bolted to a smooth-walled shaft disappeared into gloom.
“Zoe,” he whispered, “We’ll help you climb down. I’ll go first.” Her response was slurred, the words indistinct, and Grady realized she was on the verge of losing consciousness.
If they had to carry her, it would slow them down and make them more vulnerable to attack. But he wasn’t about to leave her behind and hope she would receive medical aid from the intruders, so carry her they would, if need be.
“Hurry,” Mbeki urged. “I hear someone coming.”
Grady clambered down the first few rungs, happy to discover that small white rectangular lights embedded in the shaft glowed to life as he drew near, activated by proximity sensors. Mbeki helped Zoe scramble over the edge, Grady reaching up to support her. “This must lead to a tunnel,” he whispered. “I don’t think we’ll have far to climb to reach it.”
After a hasty glance beneath him, he started lower, giving Zoe the occasional encouraging word and helping hand. The light from above vanished as Mbeki climbed onto the ladder and hauled the hatch shut above him.
The sergeant spotted a tight bundle of wires fixed to the shaft wall and ending in the hatch’s underside. “Watch out below,” he murmured, moving down a couple of rungs and twisting his body as he adjusted the setting on his laser rifle. He sent a concentrated burst of energy slicing through the power wires. “Should slow the cyborg’s progress, in case he also has the access code.”
They carried on climbing down, Zoe’s movements becoming more unsteady by the moment. Grady was relieved when he spotted the concrete floor of a tunnel. He clambered out of the shaft and turned to grab Zoe’s arm. With a loud moan, she collapsed against him. He staggered under the sudden weight and smacked his head on the tunnel wall.
“Zoe!” he called, holding her up with one hand while checking for a pulse with the other. He turned to Mbeki, who had to stoop into the low tunnel.
“She’s still alive. But her heartbeat is erratic,” Grady declared. His demeanor was grim as he added, “We’ve got to get her to Adventurer soon, or else I’m afraid we’ll lose her.”
32
“Hold up,” Grady said in a low voice, the sergeant’s laser rifle gripped in both hands, and dropped to a crouch behind the upturned service vehicle. Mbeki grunted as he gently lowered the unconscious Zoe to the floor and, once again, checked her pulse. “Are we lost?” he asked.
By way of answer, Grady pulled out his handheld and tapped to activate its screen. His finger traced the lines of the schematic Tara had sent him right before the local data network stopped working—cut off on purpose, he assumed. “No, but we have a new problem.”
They had left the tunnel under the park deck through a service hatch that opened out to a storage area crammed with gardening tools and supplies. Thanks to the map, Grady led them along back corridors and less populated sections, hoping to avoid detection.
