A moment of silence. “That depends. Do you know a safe way out of this place?”
“If you mean the Apollo complex . . . yeah, I might.”
“Well, then.” Again that almost-smile. “I might know a way home.”
Slowly he rose to his feet. His legs were stiff—his whole body was stiff—but the thought of escaping Shenshido was energizing. Don’t get your hopes up too much, he warned himself. But the hunger for hope was so strong that it robbed the thought of power.
“Come on,” he said. “This way.” He gestured toward the place where Serjit’s door was hidden. “I do hope you’re not claustrophobic.”
The day a programmer developed software that could alter human sensory perception, he sowed the seeds of humanity’s destruction.
The only question left to us is what form that destruction will take.
MAXWELL ONEGIN
Think Again!
HARMONY NODE
SHENSHIDO STATION
THE PROBLEM with the “safe way out” of Apollo, the Sarkassan explained, was that it was the same route the ambushers had used to get in. He and Ru would need to go to an outlying branch of a secret tunnel system and wait, until the attackers had satisfied themselves that none of the enemy were still standing, and left. Then it would be safe to emerge.
She wasn’t sure if that qualified as a safe exit, but right now she didn’t have a better option.
He led her to a narrow passage between two towering shelf units and indicated that they would have to squeeze through it. The passage was barely wide enough for her to fit through sideways, and if anyone attacked while she was in there, it would not be a good situation. She looked at the Sarkassan for a moment, hesitant. His motives were reliable enough—like Ivar, he wanted to get off this station, and as long as he thought she held the key to escape he would do his best to keep her alive. But how sound was his judgment? He was about to lead her right into the hornet’s nest, and if he was wrong about what the upstairs folk were going to do next, things could get pretty ugly.
“This whole place is under surveillance,” he warned her. “They watched you coming in, and as soon as they return to their equipment they’ll be able to see where you are. You can’t hide from them as long as you’re in the public space.”
She looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. Hornet’s nest it was.
Shock rod in her right hand, knife in her left, she sidled through the narrow space behind him, cringing as the vibrations from their movement set massive storage drums thrumming on both sides. You weren’t kidding about the claustrophobia. But soon enough they emerged into a slightly larger space, hidden behind a shelving unit. It was big enough to accommodate half a dozen people—assuming they were friendly—and a large hinged door that stood half-open. It looked like it had been laser-cut from the wall, and would probably leave no more than a hairline crack when shut. Just like the crack she had spotted on the way here, she realized. The one Ivar hadn’t seen. He and Ru must have come within inches of discovering the ambush, perhaps almost triggering it.
But if it had been a real door, why didn’t Ivar see it? Everything she learned about this place only raised more questions.
It was dark beyond the doorway, so the Sarkassan switched on his headset’s light, and she followed suit. Now there were two narrow beams piercing the darkness, just enough to hint at the presence of ducts, conduits, junction boxes, wires—a tangled nest of maintenance equipment. Black shadows lurked in every corner, stretching and shifting as the light sources moved. A dozen murderous people could be hidden in those shadows, and Ru and her guide would never see them. She spotted a light fixture overhead, connected to a conduit that might lead to others, but the Sarkassan didn’t activate it. Maybe he was afraid that so much light would be noticed.
As he squeezed in between two ducts and gestured for her to follow, she instructed her headset to record sensory data. If she had to find her way out of here on her own, she would at least have that much data to guide her. Then she followed him into the guts of the station. It was a tight enough fit in places that it made their previous passage seem downright luxurious, and more than once her coat snagged on an unseen protrusion, startling her. No, she wasn’t claustrophobic—outriders couldn’t afford to be, given how much time they spent sealed in pods—but this place would be a test of anyone’s nerves.
Finally they emerged into a small open space hewed from the guts of the station, barely high enough to stand up in. There were boxes stacked at the far end, with an array of small bottles next to them. A large covered urn was tucked under an air duct.
“This is their supply station,” the Sarkassan told her. “There’s food in the boxes if you’re hungry, and the bottles have water in them. At least that’s what I was told. I have no idea how old everything is, but hey . . .” He shrugged. “Probably not more than two years, right?”
“I’ll check to make sure nothing smells bad,” she said, with a hint of a dry smile.
The boxes were full of nutrient bars in clear plastic wrap. They were gray and mealy-looking and appeared to be homemade, but given some of what she’d eaten on colony planets, they looked reassuringly uncomplicated. She stowed a few in her pocket before unwrapping one and biting into it. It tasted every bit as bad as it looked, but food was food, and her body needed refueling. The bottles all had laboratory labels on them, dire warnings about poisons and acids and dangerous interactions. She chose one that said it contained a dangerous alkali and tucked it into her jacket as well. Then she headed over to the urn to see what was inside. As she lifted the lid the Sarkassan started to say something, but if he was trying to warn her, he was too late. The fetid odor of human waste hit her in the face. Gagging, she pushed the cover quickly back in place.
“Chamber pot,” he said.
“Yeah.” She coughed. “I guessed that.”
“They said they would wait here as long as it took for the exos to show up. Days, if necessary. I guess no one wanted to have to hike all the way back just to piss.”
She looked at him solemnly. “The bios never stood a chance, did they?”
Expression grim, he shook his head.
I’d be dead if I had stayed with them, Ru thought. Noticing the secret door that Vestus has overlooked and taking the time out to investigate had saved her. “Is this where we wait?”
“No. They might come here for supplies. We’ll go one more room up the line.”
Back into the guts of the station they crawled. The Sarkassan paused several times along the way to consult a map in his headset. It must not have been very detailed, because sometimes he seemed less than certain about which way to go. Far from reassuring.