Zero (9 page)

The security men fell back, took up a better position and worked on obliterating the corner of wall by his ear. Hugo continued to blindly return fire, and from the sound of a pained scream managed to take out one more, then turned and ran for the stairs.

The stairwell was still dark. He could hear approaching booted feet and angry shouts from below so went up, taking the stairs three at a time. Two floors up, the stairwell flooded with light and alarms started blaring.

He swore and shouldered open the next door he came across. He only had time for the briefest of glances at his wrist panel to determine the layout of the floor he was on before he hurtled around a corner, straight into a bank of armed men, guns drawn.

“
Drop it,” one of them snarled.

Hugo stood frozen in the sights of the half-dozen automatic rifles. He dropped his gun. One man put up his rifle and came forward. Hugo waited until he was at arm's length then grabbed the man by the collar, pulling him between him
self and the guns. There was a confused moment of shouts and the man fighting against him that Hugo used to pull a flash charge from his belt and hurl it towards the bank of men.

There was a deafening bang and a flash of white and a hiss and the air was a confused mess of shouting, gunfire and foul-smelling fog. Hugo threw the startled guard away towards the rabble and flung himself through another door.

He was in a small room with a bank of workstations at one side and a wall of windows on the other. Three terrified people in lab coats scrambled away from the door as he came careening through. Hugo hauled a set of shelves over to block the door, spilling computer and machine parts onto the floor just as gunfire started to tear it apart. One of the women screamed.

Hugo didn't spare them a glance but ran to the window. He saw how high up he was and felt his stomach lurch but then came a sickening
noise that shook the room, rattled the glass in its fittings and knocked him to the floor. More alarms started blaring and he could smell smoke.

He grabbed a chair from the nearest workstation and flung it through the window, glass flying everywhere. He clambered up onto the sill, feeling a chill ride up
him as he looked down at the tarmac below. The breeze tugged at his hair. Forcing aside a sickness in the pit of his stomach, he climbed out, lowered himself until he was dangling from his gloved fingertips, took a deep breath and let go.

ɵ

Webb blinked against the spots dancing in front of his eyes and shook his head to try and clear the ringing in his ears. He hauled himself to his feet, swearing as his limp arm tugged on his shoulder.

“
Fuck,” he swore again, wiping blood out of his eyes with his good hand. The corridor was a mess of debris, dust, flashing lights and pounding alarms. His charge had obliterated his pursuit as well as most of the third floor of the command centre, but he knew he didn't have long. He only prayed that Hugo had managed to make it back to the stairwell. He allowed himself one precious moment to lean against the scorched plaster. He tried to breathe past the pounding and flashing in his head, then gritted his teeth and slammed his dislocated shoulder against the wall.

There was a horrible crack that he felt more than heard. For a second everything went black but when he came back to himself he was running. The only people he encountered were workers picking themselves up from the floor, yelling and flinging themselves out of his way. He risked a glance at his wrist display and then changed direction, taking a corridor that led back towards the rear of the building.

He came up on another corner, more civilians scattering along the way and skidded to a halt when he heard angry shouts and the thunder of booted feet coming his way. He cast about, saw a grid in the ceiling and aimed. He fired and the grid swung down, hanging twisted from its fastenings. He shoved his gun inside his boiler suit, jumped and caught the edge of the opening, cursing as his shoulder took his weight. He scrambled up into the shaft just as more AI security came round the corner. It was narrow and dark but he crawled down it, pulling himself out of reach just as the shaft behind him exploded with gunfire.

He checked his display and turned a sharp left then right, shoulder, knees and back protesting with every move. The shaft narrowed as he turned again and he had to lie down to get himself through the gap
into the next duct. His wrist panel blinked red as the
Zero
rendezvous time approached. He shook his head.

“
Well that's that fucked,” he muttered and kept crawling.

He felt a draught on his face and could smell the outside. There was light up ahead and he scrambled towards it. Between the slats of a ventilation grid he could make out the top of the boundary wall below and the forest beyond. The duct was too narrow to draw his gun so he had to lay on his back and pull a multitool from his belt to work on the screws. He gritted his teeth, willing his hands not to shake, but it still took far longer than it should before the grid fell away, landing with a crash on the concrete below. He shouldered himself round until he was able to get his feet out of the opening, then lowered himself out, catching his weight on his elbows, legs dangling into nothing. He craned his neck, trying to judge the distance between him and the top of the wall.

With a deep breath he twisted, gathered himself and jumped. For a sickening moment he thought he was going to fall short, then his ribs cracked into the top of the wall. He cursed again, clinging there for a precious moment, completely winded until stars stopped dancing in front of his eyes. More sirens sounded from the tripped wall alarms and lights along the top of the wall started flashing as he hauled himself over.

No time for grips, he reached for the branch of the closest tree, managed to grab it on the second swing and pulled himself across. He shimmied down the branch then scrambled down the trunk, hitting the forest floor with a roll then got to his feet and ran.

It only took him a moment to register that the captain's bike had gone from its hiding spot, then he scrambled onto
Sin
, gunned the engine, swung the bike south and hit the accelerator. Detritus and twigs flew up in his wake. The road was a paleness between the trees up ahead, then there was the smoothness of tarmac below him and he pulled the bike round and tore westwards. He counted out his luck second by second as he sped down the mountain road. Still no pursuit showed up on the bike’s windscreen display or mirrors.

Even so, he waited until there were a few more miles behind him before he dared to take his eyes off the road long enough to glance at his wrist panel. The emergency meet point was coming up ahead. Taking a painful breath, he wrenched the handlebars over and heaved the bike back off-road, heading uphill and away from the little blinking cross on the display that marked the rendezvous. He spared a couple of glances back over his shoulder as best he could to be sure he left a clear trail through the undergrowth.

He came to a small clearing, braked and spun the bike in a tight arc. The trees were too dense to see the road but he was pleased to see the deep furrows in the leaf mould that marked his trail. He cut
Sin
's engine and listened hard.

For some time all he could hear was his own laboured breathing. The stabbing pain down his ribs every time he inhaled shoved itself back into his awareness. He hung his head, forcing his breathing to steady and pushed past the pain, clearing his concentration to listen. A long way off, deadened by the intervening trees, were the unmistakable sounds of vehicles moving at speed. Another harried glance at the readings on his wrist panel confirmed the base's security had got themselves in gear and were heading his way.

With a wince and a curse he pushed down
Sin
's kickstand and heaved himself off. He staggered on a protesting ankle but pulled himself up before he fell, gritting his teeth. When he had gained control over the pain, he reached out and ran a hand over
Sin
's handlebar, a pang sweeping through him.

“
Sorry, baby,” he muttered and started pulling charges from his belt. When it came to actually attaching the charges to the chassis he cringed and almost, almost, considered abandoning the whole plan. But sense told him they would take longer examining wreckage, hopefully enough time to let them make a getaway. The proximity of the blinking lights on his display told him he had little choice.

Clenching his jaw, he set the charges along the body of the bike before turning and stumbling away. He didn
’t look back as he made his way down the incline, cursing, wanting to sprint but not managing more than an ungainly stagger. When he reached the road there was still nothing in sight. He was over and in the trees on the other side before he dared to breathe again. But he didn't slow his pace and kept heading vaguely south, casting about for anything that might look like a bunker. Looking around he caught the glint of metal further down the incline. As he limped closer he could make out the shape of the captain's bike stashed in some undergrowth.

“
Commander.”

Webb span in the direction of the voice. The captain's blood-smeared and scowling face was pale against the
dark of the bunker’s entrance sunk into the hillside. Webb scrambled over toward him and heaved himself over the log. He hit solid concrete with a bump and a stifled cry. The captain’s hand fastened onto his collar and hauled him further back into the bunker. It was dark and dirty and only just big enough for the two men to sit side by side.

It seemed like no sooner had he been dragged away from the entrance than the sound of vehicles thundering past on the road abo
ve filled his ears. He felt the captain tense in the darkness beside him. The roaring was loud and fast but he estimated at least four vehicles, big ones, maybe even a couple of bikes too. He felt the captain ease as the sounds passed on.

Hugo moved to leave but Webb grabbed him, pressing a hand to his mouth for quiet. Sure enough, the growling of engines returned to the road above and then the screeching of brakes, banging of doors and shouts.

“They must have scanning equipment and have picked up the bike,” Hugo mumbled as the sickening sound of men marching down off the road into the trees filtered through to them.

“
We're not dead yet.”

The captain raised an eyebrow as Webb produced
a detonator. Clenching his eyes shut and muttering a quick prayer, he pressed the button.

Sin's explosion rumble
d through the floor and rattled dust from the ceiling. There were shouts and the sounds of retreating feet and men being ordered back up to the road. Then silence. Webb leant back against the wall and rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a shuddering breath.

“
Not too boring for you, I hope, Captain?”

Hugo just shot him a glare and attempted to sit up straight. For the first time Webb noticed the stiffness in the way he moved. He also cradled his left arm close to his chest.

“Captain?” Webb shifted closer.

“
I'm fine,” Hugo grunted, attempting to shift back toward the entrance.

Webb grabbed the captain's jacket to hold him still.
“What happened?”

Hugo scowled for a second then looked away.
“I jumped out of a window.”

“
No disrespect sir, but that was pretty stupid,” Webb attempted a grin.

“
I'm fine. Let's move.”

“
Sir, we are relying on each other to get out of here. I need to know what shape you're in.”

Hugo's scowl deepened and he looked away.
“Crack to the head,” he muttered. “Broken forearm. Bangs and scrapes.”

“
Let me look,” Webb said, but as he reached out his hand the captain recoiled. “Hugo, I need to see if you have concussion.”

He cast Webb an unreadable look but suffered him to shine a lenslight in both his eyes.

“Maybe a little,” Webb muttered, not happy, before turning his attention to the arm. Hugo held it protectively curled against his chest and it hurt too much for Webb to even touch it. Webb rifled through his utility belt for his medkit, aware that time was ticking by. “We'll have to bind it,” Webb said, pulling out a length of bandage. Hugo's face darkened further but he allowed his commander to help him shoulder out of his coat, shift his wrist display from his bad to his good arm and bind the broken forearm against his chest. He winced as the bindings tightened over the break but made no noise. Webb took the opportunity to cast a glance over the rest of him as he helped him get the coat back on over the bindings. His skin was drawn and clammy and his breathing shallow and pained.

“
Right,” Webb said. “Hold fast. I'll get us some transport.”

“
What?”

“
I don't much like your chances of holding on to me on the bike, Captain. Sit tight. I'll find something.”

“
No,” Hugo growled. “We go together.”

“
I'll go faster alone.”

“
No, Commander. This whole mess is because we got split up. We can’t let it happen again.”

Webb bit his tongue on the automatic response, taking a breath.
“It wasn’t your fault, Hugo. Well, it was a little bit. If you'd listened to me when I said we should abort we'd be out and away right now.” Webb saw him bristle and swiftly continued. “But it was messed up from the start, the whole thing. I should have guessed. It was all too easy.”