5

They travelled through the glass door into the tunnel cross passage. The corridors looked exactly as they did on camera, only now she could see that there had been a single lightstrip which dove through the ceiling and branched off in all four directions at the junction. The mere action of stepping inside caused it to light up.

Motion-detected. Figures.

A large duct trailed along the wall, its bore better than two feet, its end connected to a busted extractor fan, passing cool air across the facility. Luna marvelled at the change in temperature, relieved that she had gotten away from that unbearable summer heat.

There were far less people in this area, far less. Occasionally gang members would walk by, but never in bunches of more than two at a time. And they looked so similar to Vanderman and Luna that, she supposed, they didn’t even bat an eye; just walked on like this was standard procedure or something. Luna had been ready to be questioned, and she realised, with dawning horror, that she no longer had the invis-cases to prove that it was a simple drug delivery. Her new excuse would be: We’re lookin’ for a black woman with red hair. Boss says we needa talk to her.

Yeah, that sounds pretty goooood.

But Luna and Vanderman never got the opportunity to use it. They made it to the face-access door after fifteen minutes – Liz wasn’t joking when she called this a big place – and the woman with red hair was nowhere to be seen. So she checked with Liz, and she said that she’d lost track of the woman as soon as she left that area.

Once again, Luna had no leads. But she considered something: wherever this woman went, it must have been in a place where there were no cameras. Blindspots. So she moved the Mackley camera system into view, closed as many porn ads as possible (which would turn out to be a pointless effort after she realised they all reappeared, big and new, after no more than ten seconds), and checked to see which areas of the tunnel were under surveillance and which weren’t. It took five minutes for her to understand that the entire right side of the underbase had been one big blindspot, and once she got around to it, she saw that there had been more people sitting on the other side holding weapons, once again chatting like this was just a basic day of security. At the end of the tunnel was a flight of stairs which travelled up, obscured by a metal strip caught in a tangle of machinery and wires.

Luna skulked around the corner slightly, nervous that the guards would perhaps see her and start asking questions. “What now?” she asked Vanderman in a low voice.

He took a look for himself, staring through the glass side panel. “What are they guardin’?”

“An exitpoint,” she said. “Has to be.”

His forehead creased, and his eyes were narrow and watchful. “Shit.”

Static came from Luna’s ear-piece. “What’s up? You two okay?” Liz said. There was a slight, unusual worry in her tone.

“Two guards at the end of….” She looked around for a label, something that would say the name of the tunnel, but then she remembered that this area was the blindspot; even if there had been one, Liz would have no idea what she was talking about. “Shit. Look, I think the woman passed through here.”

“Why?”

“’Cause why the fuck is it guarded?” she said. “Everywhere else has camera systems, everywhere else has some sort of slot or panel. This has two fucks guarding it with machine guns, like the front entrance.”

Liz hummed thoughtfully. “You might be better off findin’ another way around.”

“No.” Vanderman shook his head. “If guards are here, then there’s probably no other way around. And if there are other ways, then they’re probably guarded, too. Make sense?”

To Luna, yes. Yes it did. But she had a sneaking suspicion that this was the only possible way through. She wasn’t sure why; it had been one of those hunches. Besides, she didn’t want to waste any time looking for one when, as Vanderman said, it would very likely be guarded.

“Here’s what we do,” Luna said, speaking in a breathless rush, remembering her earlier thoughts. “We tell ’em straight up that we’re new around here and that we’re lookin’ for the black woman with red hair. Maybe we can even get a name.”

“You nuts?” he said, chuckling slightly. He looked over his shoulder to make sure nobody was watching them. Then, he looked down at her and, in a harsh voice, added, “If she’s the only one allowed in then I doubt it’ll matter.”

“It’s worth the shot,” she said. “There’s no other way of gettin’ access to that door without someone’s face, and copying her is our best shot.”

He peeked through the side panel again, scrubbing his hair with a gloved hand. He breathed through his nose deeply. “Stay casual, keep your guns ready in case things get… messy.”

She cocked her machine gun in her elbows and fixed the strap over her shoulder so that it didn’t prod her neck. “I know how this goes. But Vanderman, don’t fuck this up by talkin’ too much shit, got it?” She eyed him intensely, so intense that for a moment she looked like a mother staring at her misbehaved child.

He sneered. “Whatever, kid.”

“I’m serious.”

“And I heard you. Don’t worry.” But he didn’t look as if he did. He seemed pissed off at the notion of her bringing it up.

Regardless, she took a deep breath and followed him into the tunnel with the two guards. They barely made it past the sliding glass door when the guards stood up from their seats and asked them what their business was.

“We’re lookin’ for someone,” said Luna. “Black woman with red hair. You know her?”

“What business do you have?” one guard asked, stepping in front of her.

“Drug business,” said Luna. “Rick Steel sent us. We’re from Zemon. Won’t take but a moment.”

“Yeah that ain’t happenin’,” said the other guard. A wheat straw was sticking out from his rotten teeth, and Luna could smell his vomit-inducing breath from more than two paces away.

She coughed and winced as if struck with a lacerating whip. “You tryna cause trouble?” She tightened her grip on the rifle and craned her neck. “We travelled three hours to get here. Front guards said it was alright, lady back there said it was alright, but you wanna hold us up? We saw her come through here. This place is no secret.”

The guard laughed, taking a step towards her. He was tall – taller than Vanderman – with a thin cotton shirt ripped at the sleeves to reveal anabolically muscled arms. “Listen, little lady,” he began ominously, “this place is off access. You wanna get by, you need upper management’s word, ya hear?”

“She told you,” snapped Vanderman deeply. “Rick Steel – ”

“You think I don’t got ears, buddy?” the guard replied. “Rick Steel doesn’t say who gets past here. Silica does, and you sure as hell don’t look like no Silica to me.”

Another name she didn’t know. Damn, these people were discreet. She almost asked who this Silica was, but she stopped herself. There was a chance that Silica was the black woman with red hair, and if she were to ask about her identity, then she would blow their cover. Shit.

“Silica through there?” Vanderman pointed over the guards shoulders at the flight of upleading stairs.

“’Course she is,” the other guard said, scratching his weak excuse for a beard. “That’s who ya wanna talk to, right?”

Vanderman took a moment to respond. “Think so.”

“Think so?” the other guard said, plucking the straw from his teeth, looking at him with rising suspicion.

Luna could sense it, and the hair on her back began to tickle, her heart jumping and her eyes widening with anxiety. “We needa talk to her.”

“’Bout what?”

“New drugs comin’ in from Zinc,” said Vanderman, and the panic in Luna’s chest rose further. “Newly made, fresh experimental class of Jade worth millions.”

“Uh-huh. And why’s he need to speak with her? Why’s he need to send you two? You realise Steel has an MD. He can call whoever he wants. In fact…” He chuckled. “…he woulda called us and let us know. Nothin’ you’re sayin’ makes sense and – ” He stood back and snapped his rifle at Vanderman’s head, pressing the butt in his own armpit. “ – I’m pretty sure you two are tryna break in.”

Adrenaline pumped through Luna’s muscles, and she began breathing heavily through her nose, still trying to maintain that calm demeanour which, despite her efforts, was crumbling like a makeshift bench. The other guard pointed his rifle at her, and then… then…

“What the fuck are you doing?” she shouted. “We’re on the same fucking side assholes!”

“You think I’m that stupid, huh?” said the guard, again breathing that foul odour into her face. If ever she wanted the gas mask to work it would be now. “She thinks I’m stupid, Richie.” He looked at the other guard with a slanting smile on his face.

That made her even angrier, and she supposed that part of it was that she really didn’t want to die. No one did. It was alright thinking death wasn’t that scary when you were at home surrounded by people you love, but not when you had a muzzle pointed right at your skull with someone’s finger hooked around the trigger.

“You’re makin’ a big mistake,” said Vanderman.

“Oh yeah,” the guard said, laughing once again. “Why’s that?”

Vanderman let out a long, weary sigh. “’Cause like we said – ” He suddenly lunged forward, like a boxer performing a snap punch, and –

Luna did the same with the other guard, wasting no time. She ducked and gripped his rifle barrel, turning it away from her. Bullets sprayed, whipped, and scratched across the walls. Luna struck the man in the face with breathtaking power, feeling his nose cave in under her knuckles. She pulled the weapon from his shoulders, stumble-staggered along the floor, and pressed him up against the wall, just a little under the square ventilation duct. His body rose as her hand clutched his neck, and he helplessly thrashed, knocking her with as many punches as he could dish out. She didn’t feel a single one.

The man reached into his military-armour pocket and pulled out something small and sharp. It clicked open and he drove it towards her. A jackknife. She let go of his neck and swayed back, stumbling across Vanderman’s body. She fumbled the machine gun from her back, aimed, and –

The man pulled up in a flash and kicked her squarely in the jaw. She pulled the trigger blindly, firing at the ceiling and accidentally causing the duct to burst. The hose whipped and swirled and swung down like an untied balloon, flailing out of balance. The man grabbed the weapon and drove the jackknife down upon her. She jerked to the side, grabbed his wrist and, using his own momentum, propelled the blade into the steel panel. The blade snapped and she kicked her leg forward, tripping him. Down he went, like a stumbling antelope, and across the ground in a desperate roll. He stopped and saw his rifle within paws’ reach. At the same time, Luna grabbed her gun, turned to face him, and fired. A quick exchange of bullets, but Luna’s were much faster. The man's rifle bullet pierced her shoulder, and she let out a blood-curdling scream. She lit his body up with the remaining round. More than twenty bullets in less than a second.

Blood jetted as his skin was torn into flesh and then into bone. His body flopped down, lifeless, and Luna looked over at Vanderman.

He and the guard were still struggling, and so far none of them had fired. Or maybe they had and she failed to notice.

But Vanderman’s face wasn’t as she expected. He didn’t have that look of confidence, and after a moment, she realised he was actually struggling. The guard was overpowering him. She stood, aimed the machine gun, and –

CLICK!

The weapon gave out.

Shit!

The guard lifted Vanderman’s arm above his own shoulder, finally securing power, and the guard’s body became a ball bearing as Vanderman went helplessly sprawling across it. He flipped all two-hundred-plus pounds of manmeat over his shoulder and slammed him onto the ground.

Then she noticed the man’s arms; they were cybernetic, grey like hers, and his wrist-cable had fallen loose.

Terror fled through her, quelled slightly by adrenaline. She rushed over to Richie’s rifle, grabbed it, turned, and –

WHACK!

A giant, sledgehammer-sized fist drove into her face, and she was sent stumbling backwards. Never in her life had she felt so much pain. The impact caused the fibre on her gas mask to separate and split, and on her MD something flashed in bright pink:

Slowly the arachofibre fled from her face, trailing down her shoulders and covering her arms. Her hair turned back to its original electric blue, and her facial features contorted into a bloody version of her former self. All her clothes, gone, back to the haptic settings.

Panting, the guard managed to let out a half laugh. “… Jesus… Luna Portalla…. You’re that wanted chick…. You just made my day sweetheart…”

She stared at him, petrified, sweat slicking her face and hair, her mouth quivering. No, this can’t be how I die.

The man’s grin widened, and his enormous spider eyes brightened. He stepped back – limped actually – and grabbed his rifle off the ground. “Free money…” he breathed.

Despite Luna’s willingness to live through this, she knew that he was right. These would be the last seconds in her life, she thought blackly, so she better think happy thoughts before the darkness claims her.