Death Drop (37 page)

“Lil, what the hell’s going on? Why’d you take me back here?”

Lilietha let out a small giggle and shook her head. “What do you see, Ghost?” she asked as she looked at the statue’s enormous foot.

“Kid, I don’t have time for games! These people’ll kill anyone to find me and they’re headed into the crowd right now!”

Lilietha was still smiling warmly as she continued to stare at the wall while Dezmara gave her panicked lecture.

“I’ve gotta get outta” Dezmara stopped suddenly and craned her neck forward as she peered into the dark space between the wall and the arch of the Triniton’s foot. There was enough space to slide in sideways and Dezmara keyed up the dark-vision on the kranos to reveal a small door. There it was—her way out!

“That gizmo sure is neat,” Lilietha said while pointing a suction-disked finger at the kranos, “but you still have to remember to look with your eyes, Ghost!”

Dezmara’s heart jumped and an uncontrollable smile pulled her lips back. She wanted to reach down, scoop up the strange, blue little girl, and hug her, but before she could turn from the dark space, the kranos identified a keypad similar to the other doors leading to the dockyard. There was no way she could crack the code without Simon and the
Ghost’s
mainframe computer. She was in the same exact spot: trapped with the portmaster’s bloodthirsty henchmen close behind, except this time she was out in the open.

“Lilietha, I can’t break the code on this door, and now we’re in the open,” she said with a hint of sadness. “I’m sure the portmaster’s seen you helping me…you have to run back into the crowd and hide and soon as I’m…as soon as this is over and the doors are open, you have to get out—I don’t know how, but you have to leave Luxon!”

Lilietha let out another giggle. “Ghost, the portmaster’s cameras can’t see us where we’re standing, that’s why I set up my blanket here. And the code to the door is 1967TB.”

If she could have seen the look on Dezmara’s face it would have matched the kranos perfectly—large round eyes and a small mouth that fell slightly open in complete amazement. “How did you? What is this door, and how’d you?”

“There are doors and passages all over the station. You probably saw a couple in Buego’s and didn’t know it. The portmaster uses them to sneak up on people and steal things from ships in the dockyard, so be careful—he could be watching.”

“How’d you know the combination?” Dezmara asked with awe.

“I heard a couple of the pickpockets talking about it after you went to The Boneyard.”

“They didn’t happen to mention the code to the great gate too, did they?”

“Sorry, Ghost,” she said and shrugged her little shoulders.

“Thanks, Lil. You saved my a I mean…you’re a life saver, kid.” Dezmara paused for a moment and she felt something overwhelm her that she had never felt. Before she had given it any thought, she blurted out the first thing that came to her, “Lil, do you wanna come with me?”

“Thanks, Ghost, but I belong in Luxon. Maybe one day we’ll meet again when you’re not so busy and we can play together.” She smiled her warm smile and Dezmara found herself wondering what a little girl would do while she burned around the universe searching for Humans and found trouble around every star. She had enough problems keeping the peace between Simon and Diodojo.

“Yeah,” Dezmara said, “if I make it outta here, I’ll definitely be back. I have a complaint to register with the management.” Dezmara readied herself to jump into the arch of the statue’s foot when Lilietha stopped her.

“Ghost, remember—when you need protection,” she said and pointed to her forearm again. Dezmara had completely forgotten about the button on the vambrace and the purported protection it offered; but, given the discovery of the door and combination, she was willing to take Lilietha’s word for it.

“Right,” Dezmara said and then she paused. “Will you be okay?”

“I’m safe here. Go and find what you’re looking for.” Lilietha winked at Dezmara and then turned and walked back into the crowd.

Dezmara jumped into the crevice and faced the small doorway hidden in the shadows. The keypad beeped six times as she punched in the combination, and the door lurched backward with a hollow boom before grinding slowly to one side. The opening was small and Dezmara had to double over at the waist to squeeze through. Once inside, she found herself hunched over on a metal grate with a small down-ladder leading to a stone pathway like all the rest in Luxon. She slipped her arms over the steep rails and slid down to the ground without touching a single stair. The high-pitched ring of metal joined in harmony with the soft thud of her boots on the rock as she touched down and immediately unsheathed her blades. Much to her relief, the cave was big enough for her to stand, and she hit the ground running all out in the direction of the dockyard.

The dark-vision was still up in the kranos and it was scanning for cameras even though Dezmara had a hunch that the portmaster didn’t much care to see what was going on in his own secret passages. Even if the kranos did identify any cameras, it didn’t matter—this was the only way Dezmara had left to run. She saw several large cargo doors lining the walls of the bore as she sped past. She surmised that they were used for distributing goods to the different areas of the station—weapons to the armory, mechanical parts to the machine shop, and liquor to the store room in Buego’s. The channel ended at a portal similar in shape and size to the ones she had passed along the way, and fortunately, it didn’t require a code to exit.

She had no idea what was beyond the barrier, but based on the distance and direction she had run, she was somewhere below the dockyard. She repositioned her grip on the blades, took a deep breath, and then touched the sensor to open the bulwark. She crouched low against the side of the tunnel to present the smallest target possible as the portal slid open. A rush of warm, stale air sped from behind her, whipping the edges of her flight jacket briefly before fading into the cold emptiness that lay ahead. A metal grating, made in the same fashion as the platform at the entrance to the tunnel, only much larger, extended several hundred yards in front of her. She was slowly standing up to look around when a familiar mark caught her eye. There, etched into the grating in front of her boots, was a large number six.

Vertical trusses with small spaces between them enclosed the platform, and a ceiling made of solid metal panels ran above her. Dezmara knew where she was the moment she saw it—she was on a smuggler’s platform that ran directly under dock six. Somewhere at the end were several hinged ceiling panels and a cargo elevator with a ladder or two that led right to the
Ghost
. The passage was perfectly disguised as part of the support structure of the dock and impossible to notice on approach to the landing pad.

“Sonofabitch!” The sight stoked Dezmara’s hatred for the portmaster, and she made her way down the platform as quickly as she could without making too much noise. The kranos identified a ladder ninety meters away on the left, and just as Dezmara decided to push herself for more speed, a blast of large caliber machine gun fire erupted on the deck above her.

“Simon!” she cried as she surged forward, ignoring the ache in her side and the burning in her leg. She jumped onto the ladder from several feet away and landed more than halfway up. The hinged tile over the ladder had been removed and lay open on the dock overhead as she glided upward from rung to rung. She stopped short of the opening and touched the side of the kranos. The right eye port telescoped outward and then the lens detached and snaked through the square opening on a silver, flexible tube ringed with dark grooves. The kranos buzzed as Dezmara rotated the extension for a complete view of the situation.

Gunfire echoed in the dockyard and pinged against the
Ghost’s
smooth, armored skin in orange-white flashes. Three of the portmaster’s thugs shouted threats from behind her position on the other side of Libby the load-bot, who was deactivated and sitting motionless at the end of the cargo ramp. The hooligans were shooting at the ship from behind a cargo container on the deck eight yards away from the open bay door. The blasts stopped and one of the fiends demanded that Simon disengage the aft guns on the
Ghost
and come out with his hands up or they would open fire with the large Rolfings at the other end of the dock. It was a good threat, but Dezmara knew better. If they wanted to destroy the ship, they could have easily done it. They were using the star freighter to lure Dezmara back so they could capture her and collect their reward money. If she didn’t make it back on board before they realized she was there, Simon, Diodojo, and the
Ghost
would be reduced to bloody bits of fur and scrap metal.

“Human: wanted dead or alive…well, I’ll be damned if you bastards are takin’ me alive!”

The kranos hummed again as the grooved tube retracted and the lens locked back into place with a click. Dezmara readied herself, poised to spring through the hole, sprint past Libby, and take the extended ramp before the portmaster’s goons could realize what had happened. She pulled on the rung above her head as a wave of lead smashed into the metal bar that was supporting her feet. Dezmara stumbled, her concentration broken by the bullets that almost ripped through her ankles, and she barely managed to lift her entire body through the opening as she flopped onto the dock. She scrambled to her hands and knees and dove behind Libby’s treads as bullets peppered the deck beside her.

“Welcome home, Ghost, you sonofabitch! ‘Member me?” a familiar voice shouted and then a stream of bolts slammed into the side of the load-bot, directly in line with where Dezmara was hiding. “Portmaster told us who you were an’ offered us big money to break into your ship while he took care of you in The Boneyard, but now it looks like we get to kill you too. You put a hole in my hand and damn near gave me another smile on my throat!” Gunfire stung the load-bot again. “An’ now it’s payback!” The tube on the kranos snaked around the corner of her cover, and Dezmara recognized the pickpocket she had apprehended in the market popping his bony-disked head over the center of the cargo container while two of his accomplices peered around either end. She assumed that the fourth murdering thief was the one that had followed her through the tunnel and was now shooting at her from beneath the hinged panel. She was caught in a perfect crossfire. The pickpockets behind the cargo container had a direct line of sight to the center and right side of the cargo bay, and the thief aiming at her from the trapped door had the left covered. She was pinned down.

“See, goddamit, that’s what you get for bein’ nice these days! Shoulda killed that little bastard when he tried to ice you in the market, but nooooo—you had to teach him a lesson!” Dezmara decided to wait for Simon to kick in with another barrage of fire from the
Ghost
, and then she would make a run for it. She waited. Bullets dented the load-bot around her and left star-shaped burn marks on the dock inches away from her bunched-up legs, and still nothing happened. “Simon,” she screamed through the kranos, “what in the hell are you waiting for?! You can’t seriously believe they’re going to destroy the ship if you return fire? Fire, dammit—FIRE!” She shouted until her throat was raw, but it was no use. The back door leading from the cargo hold to the rest of the ship was sealed, the connection to the ship from her helmet was still raising nothing but static, and the
Ghost’s
aft guns were silent on their mounts.

The lens at the end of the flexible tube wound around Libby’s body and showed the three thieves emerging from behind the cargo container, holding their guns in front of them and laughing. The game was up. They must have realized that the ship was no longer a threat, and since Dezmara hadn’t returned any fire up to this point, they knew she wasn’t packing any heat. The kranos whirred as Dezmara directed the lens toward the hinged panel in the floor and saw the terrible head of the henchman on the smuggling platform below. He had six black eyes that started low on his long brow, increasing in size as they moved up his skull through thick, bristly hair, and each was fixed on Dezmara as he climbed onto the dock. She would be outflanked in about two seconds if she didn’t do something. But what could she do? She didn’t stand a chance with just her blades against autos.

“Hey, Ghost! Like my guns?!” The thief in the center laughed, and Dezmara zoomed the view of the kranos in on the flat-black pistols clutched in his hands. He was holding her custom automatics. He must have scooped up the guns, as well as her belt and holsters, now strapped around his waist, from where she dropped them outside the door on dock six.

“Why, you little piece of” Dezmara stopped short as Lilietha’s tiny voice echoed in her ears, and she suddenly remembered the button on her vambrace. “When I need protection, huh? Boy, kiddo, do I
ever
…here goes nothin’!” She pressed the button on her left arm as the thugs closed in and it sank into the shiny black skin of the guard. A thin, half-cylindrical plate extended out of the wall of the depression for twelve inches and then folded down parallel to the vambrace. The plate unfurled in a circle, much like the tiny plates surrounding the telescopic eye ports on the kranos, each one overlapping the last and sliding into place with an audible tick. When the last panel locked into position, Dezmara’s left arm sported a shield two feet in diameter. Her heart sank as she stared at the back side of the disk and then turned her arm over to examine the front.

“A shield?! Well, that would be useful if these guys were carrying knives or swords or axes, but they’re FUCKING SHOOTING AT ME! What the hell was I thinking!” Dezmara cursed under the kranos and then stopped—reminding herself that she was alive at this point because Lilietha had lead her to the door. She still had a chance, even if the shield couldn’t do anything against bullets except give the thugs something big and round to aim at. Perhaps they would concentrate their fire there and she would just lose an arm. She could deal with that. She decided to rush the thief approaching from the trapped door, take him down, steal his guns, and open fire on the rest. They didn’t seem exactly battle worn, and if they hesitated while she tussled with their pal, they would be in the open. “Here’s to hopin’, kid!”