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Initiation
“It’s
been about 10 minutes,” said Han. “Check again.”
“Can
the ten minutes,” said Omie. “It’s been two minutes tops.” Even so,
Omie poked her mirror around the corner. Gray steel flickered in the
reflection. “Still clear,” said Omie. The look on Han’s face said he
expected her to do more than that.
Omie
sighed and pocketed the mirror. Rolling onto all fours, she crawled to
the end of the shaft. Again she scouted with the mirror before daring
to stick her head into the open corridor. The cool light showed nothing
in either direction. Empty blue-gray walls curved away in both
directions without interruption, clear from any of the damage she was
used to seeing.
This
is stupid.
Omie thought. A sudden click followed by a whoosh and a gust of air
from the vent drew half a startled yelp from Omie as she jerked back
into the shadows.
“What?” came Han’s voice over the line.
“Nothing,” said Omie. “Pause it.”
“Are
you ok?” he asked.
“Han,
if I didn’t know better, I’d think you cared.”
“Only
bout that lek-kit.”
“How
sweet,” Omie shot back.
Han’s
answer was slow in coming. “See anything?”
“Shove off,” she snapped.
“Don’t make-“ a whirring noise picked up left-wise down the hall.
“Pause it,” she said, cutting him off.
“You
said that already,” he said, his voice so quiet it was garbled over the
com-wire.
Omie
didn’t reply. He’d stay quiet if she let him have the last word, and
she really did want him to shut up for the moment. The whirring was
getting louder, interspersed with an occasional muffled thump.
Definitely not a Sentinel. She debated whether that was good or bad for
only a few seconds before deciding that either way, she didn’t like it.
Momentarily, the source came into view. A pair of wheels with an
off-center, rotating box that occasionally spun ahead and pulled the
wheels forward, was making its way down the hall. It wasn’t elegant but
the sleep chrome and black weapon pods pinned all over its frame showed
that it meant business on a scale the Sentinels could never promise.
Slowly retreating into the vent, she hissed over he closed circuit,
“Cantrap Han, no Sent, but a big old shit-kicker is strolling by.”
“Did
it see you?” Han asked.
Omie
ignored the jibe. Only an idiot got seen by a shit-kicker. Still, they
could hear better than most autos, and had a handful of electronic
detection gear that could probably find her through walls and in the
dark if it had reason to look.
The
floor vibrated in an almost soothing rumble as it trundled by. Omie
wasn’t much worried when one of its optic stalks swung toward the open
vent she was hiding in. She was hiding in deep enough shadows that her
hands were barely visible in front of her own face, and its sensitive
stuff only faced directly in front of it. Other than stupid Sentinels,
none of the autos she knew of would see her. For that matter, a
Sentinel would never think to look.
Omie
watched with the mirror until it was rounding the hallway out of sight.
“Got a plan?” she asked.
“Take
it out?” Han said, a mix of sarcasm and command. She didn’t say
anything, so after a moment, he said, “You know how, right?”
She
scowled even though he couldn’t see her. “Course. It’s just an
overgrown auto,” she said, hoping her voice carried the look on her
voice back to Han.
“You
ever dropped one of these kids before?”
“No,”
she admitted after a brief pause.
“Scared?” he asked. His voice didn’t even sound condescending.
“No!”
Omie snapped. She immediately cautioned her lack of discipline. He was
just testing her limits. I should know better! She scolded
herself.
“Just
one of the Boys, eh?” Han said, chuckling. She could almost see the
mocking grin through his voice.
Almost twenty minutes passed before she saw it coming up the hallway
again. “Charge of four should do it, right?” she asked.
“Three should be plenty,” he said. “But more won’t hurt. Especially if
there’s only one.” His voice took on a serious tone, as if he were
giving vital instructions. “Just remember it’s not some lame-brain
Sent. Shit-kickers are tricky. Once it’s hit, make SURE it’s down as
soon as you can.”
Omie
had been expecting a short answer. Han’s advice didn’t annoy her
really, but took longer than she had anticipated, letting the auto
close. Instead of saying anything, she tapped the pickup twice to let
Han know she had heard him. Can’t be too careful. Omie thought.
After setting the dial to four, she drew a lead from the kit, attached
it to the clamp, and flattened out onto her belly in the shaft to wait
for her chance.
It
didn’t even bother scoping her hideaway this time. When it had passed,
she shimmied out, took aim, and tossed the disk-shaped clamp. As it
sailed, she got to her knees and prepared to trigger the charge.
Instead of clamping to the auto’s metal frame, the disk stopped in mid
air, as if it hit an invisible wall, and fell flat to the floor. Cold
sweat covered Omie’s arms as the auto stopped its motion and spun its
optics toward her.
“Trappipe! Mark two,” She yelled over the line.
“Come
again?” Han asked, his voice barely audible over static hiss.
The
huge bulk of the frame spun on the auto’s central ball axis, bringing
its sensor blisters and weapon pods into line with Omie.
“You:
caught,” a male voice said out of the auto. “Movement: unadvised.”
Omie
slowly reached into a pocket, pulling out a pouch. “Pipe it wordbomb!”
she said, her hand flinging out, emptying the bag of crystals into the
air as she tried to roll back toward the vent.
All
three pods fired, two at her, one at the vent she had come out of. The
scatter dust refracted one pod’s blast easily, but burned most of it out
of the air, so some of the second came through. If Omie hadn’t dodged,
she’d have been toast. As it was, her left leg got caught as she pushed
off it. Plas-mat boiled and she howled as her skin blistered and
baked. As she tumbled to the ground, she felt heat spraying her face.
The third pod had slagged the vent, but probably had been meant to catch
her post-jump. The bad leap had been lucky, but unless she came up with
something in the next few seconds, it wouldn’t matter much.
A
popping noise came through the wall. “…two! ...belly…hit the belly…”
Part of Han’s message reached Omie, but most of it was lost to the
auto’s jamming. She wondered what power setting he had needed to use so
she could receive the message.
Omie
thought she got Han’s meaning though. The auto couldn’t shield its
underside and grip the floor at the same time. If it was moving, it was
vulnerable. Omie flicked one of the nerve-shunts strapped to her wrist
into her left thigh and almost gasped with relief as the pain vanished.
“That
all you got auto?” Omie taunted as she edged to its right side.
“Your
challenge: humorous. Lethal force: authorized. Missing again: Odds
low.” It said.
As
Omie circled further yet, she found she could move faster than it could
pivot, despite the wider circle she had to make. Six steps brought her
out of range of the pods.
“You
struggle: why? Humane treatment: promised,” it droned, bringing its
boxy leg overhead to plant and bring its frame around.
Yeah
right,
she thought. Surrendering to the autos was a good way to get fried.
Omie
frowned. The disk was next to the foot, probably inside the shield, but
she couldn’t be sure. I’m so dead she thought, defiance in her
eyes as she flicked the kit’s power knob to Full Discharge. “Suck a
can,” she said.
“Query: - “It began, but she punched the trigger before it finished.
The disc charged, firing energy up the trunk of the auto. Its shield
contained it for a moment, but then it dropped, accompanied by a
sizzling noise and the metallic smell of ozone. The auto made a
horrible screeching noise as its guts baked under the energy pulse.
Similarly, pain shot up through Omie’s legs, drawing a painful scream
from her lips. The n-shunt lasted all of one second before being
overwhelmed, increasing the pain toward the unbearable. Then, she
blacked out.
Omie
woke up to a blurry world of clear plas-mat. “Welcome back Omie,” Han
said. “Think you’ll make it?”
“Feh,” Omie said, preparing a wise-crack, but her voice stuck in her
throat. She swallowed and said “Give me five and we’ll see if you can
keep up.” Her voice was little more than a harsh whisper.
“I
felt that half way down the shaft,” he said. “Full discharge?”
Omie
nodded, trying to smile mischievously.
“Over-do it much?” he asked. “I thought I told you; the kit is worth
more than you are. Or it was. Now it needs to be charged.”
“Heh,” she said, unable to actually laugh. “The lock-picks…” she gasped
for breath as the meds washed into her.. “The picks…should be fine….”
His
grin was visible through her breathing mask. “How practical of you.”
He looked aside absently and moved his mouth, but she heard nothing.
He’s using a different channel! She thought. He’s been reporting
on me the whole time! That…that… the drugs grasped to drag her
under, stopping her thoughts in mid sentence.
Putting his hand on her shoulder, he said “Help’s on the way. Big man
says ‘Not bad.’ Thought you might want to know. Welcome to the crew
Rookie.”
Omie’s half formed smile went slack as the drugs took her off to a light
world of misty dreams.
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