Son of Sedonia (25 page)

“Sir, this is Officer Rigby at the doors to Sector Five, requesting orders,” said a voice over the radio. Drummond fumbled with his transmission display, then pressed his throat mic.

“Offic—Officer—Officer Rigby, what is your situation?! A report, give me a report!” Seconds passed in static filled silence. Finally a click at the other end.

“We pushed the inmates back into Sector Five and successfully sealed the doors before the Purge. Killed four of theirs,” Rigby paused, “Lost two of ours.” Drummond paced the floor, tapping his chin. Touched his throat.

“Rigby, I need you and your people to open those doors, and—”

“Open them?! Are you insane!? I just sacrificed two men, and y—”

“Open the doors, assess the situation inside, and report back to me immediately, or find yourself out of work and facing a congressional hearing! ‘Non-fulfillment of contractual duties resulting in a catastrophic loss or damage to Virton Energy property and personnel.’ I don’t want that. You don’t want that. Do. Your. Job.”

“Sir, this...” Rigby sighed over the radio, “Yes sir. But it’s gonna take some time. Only got one Engineer after the last fight.”

BOOOOOM! The entire Control Room shook, knocking Kruger out of the broken chair. Dust and debris fell from the ceiling, some of it into Kruger’s bloodshot eyes. He spat and rubbed at them. Tried to blink through the pain to see what was happening. The blurry shape of Drummond sat sprawled next to Scotty’s corpse. Speechless, the Warden stared at the ceiling. Kruger had seen his son Josh do the same thing when he’d skinned a knee falling out of a Superway train. The unstoppable tears bubbling up behind a childish need to be tough.
Josh
. Kruger wiped what he could from his eyes, refreshed the Neural screens, and started typing.

“What the hell was that?!” said Rigby over the radio. Focus descended slowly over Drummond as he felt around for the transmit button.

“Rigby,” Drummond said, “I want you and your men to report back to Control at once. We—”

BOOOOOM! The Control Room swayed as if it were perched on the San Andreas during the LA Quake. Drummond crashed to the tile floor, cracking his hip. Kruger’s chair snapped in half and dropped him onto Scotty’s soaked back.
No time!
He rolled off the dead man, pushed up to his knees, and kept typing. As the fuzz faded from his ears, he heard Drummond screaming.

“Lock us down! Blast doors!”

Kruger had learned that much. With a few keystrokes and swipes he found the directory.
primaryControl>security>perimeter>doors>alertProtocol_lvl5
. Sheets of blast steel and reinforced titanium dropped down into place in the two entryways. From there, Kruger expanded other directories and rifled through their contents. A picture started to form.

“Call the Hub! Tell them to send more guards...mercenaries...hell, paramilitary! Anyone!” Kruger dug through and found the Comms directory. Tried to connect.
No signal.

“Sir,” said Kruger, “That last explosion...was the Comms Tower. We’re cut off.”

“Cut off...” said Drummond. The entire room fell dead silent. Quiet enough to hear the distant pops of secondary explosions and hull breaches high above where the Comms Tower had been. Then, suddenly, closer pops. No. More like footsteps. Movement in the ring of skylights high above caught Kruger’s attention.

Figures in pressure suits walked on the hull outside. For a moment Kruger lifted.
Maintenance crews! The damage report must have gone through and triggered a work order.
Except these men lingered around the skylights. Drummond squinted up at them.

“What are they doing...?” The suited EVA workers divided themselves one to each skylight, and mounted long, bulky devices to their hip harnesses.
Laser Drills?

“Shit, close the shutters! Do it now!” yelled Drummond. Kruger shook as his hands flitted through menus and subdirectories. Above, white-hot beams of light powered on in unison. Slowly boring molten holes through the six-inch plate glass.
primaryControl>security>perimeter>skylights>alertProtocol_lvl5, ENTER!
The titanium shutters snapped closed. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief until glowing red hotspots appeared in the center of each shutter. Panic erupted. Techs burst from their chairs and scurried to the walls. They clawed open the emergency supply lockers and pulled out the pressure suits inside, most of which were torn apart in the struggle. Kruger navigated to the door control again.
If I could open them, then set them on a timer...

Too late. White beams streaked into the Control Room, melting limbs off of a few of the Techs.
Josh
...
I—
Air roared out of the room through the glowing holes, taking the contents of the room with it. Kruger clung to the edge of the desk. One-by-one his fingers failed his grip. He blacked out as he flew through the escaping air.

26

Fish

INMATE 272313-A TRIED
to keep his eyes off the laser drill’s beam as it sliced its way through the double hatch doors. All that stood between his group of over two-hundred Healed from the hangar wing.
Freedom. Home.
The words tasted sweet against the otherwise acidic pressure in his skull. Though the pain seemed to be fading. Not a moment too soon.

“Oki,” said a shaky voice next to him, “might be some guards on the other side of that, huh?”

“Might be,” said Inmate 272313-A.
Oki
. The name was like an old shirt he hadn’t worn in years. He slipped it on and savored its memories. Its power. He grinned.

“Better be. All this runnin’ around…” Oki twisted his grip on the giant Crawler wrench he’d grabbed from the Motor Pool, “High fuckin’ time to go to war.” Remnants of the anti-aggro put a sting into the words like the curried pepper kebabs of Falari Market. He glanced at the doors and caught a side-glimpse of the laser’s ice-blue beam. Snapped his head away.
Almost through.

“Get ready, y’all!” Oki shouted with eyes pinched shut.

“RA-SA-LLA! RA-SA-LLA! RA-SA-LLA!” the chant began all at once. It melted through the pain in Oki’s head, just as the final inch of the hatch doors was cut. He and three others rushed the doors. They shouldered into the reinforced titanium slabs, pushing until the molten seam split apart and opened. Wide enough for two to squeeze through.

He and a thick-necked Nine named Tolai were the first. They brushed against the ragged, torch-cut edges as they passed, marking their T99 tattoos with raking burns. There were guards on the other side, but far down the hall. Running for their lives. Oki, Tolai, and the two-hundred Healed poured down the corridor after them. Yelling curses through wild laughter.

They caught up in no time at all. Oki raised the wrench and brought it down on the exhausted guard, crunching into the man’s shoulder and neck with a force that flung the body into the wall. Another caught Tolai’s three-foot crowbar in the small of the back. The tide of the Healed rolled over the rest of the guards in seconds.

The rest of the way was marked with signs. Oki read them several times before he realized.
I can read.
Bittersweet. The ability came from the end of a needle shoved into the base of his neck.
But this is what it’s like.
He crumpled the thought, threw it in the corner of his mind, and led the charge on through the halls.

Other groups emerged from doorways along the route. Their numbers swelled to three-hundred. Five-hundred. Twelve-hundred. Before long, the wide halls were choked with them. Some in the crowd embraced and cried out when they saw each other. Their cheers rippled through the throng as they surged toward the Hangar Wing.

Oki peeked above the ocean of heads to see the hall open up into the Wing. A huge, circular chamber with industrial doors around the rim and a radial front desk in the middle. The crowd split up. Inmates each picked a door and ran to it.
Which one?...Hell yeah.
He turned to number Nine.

Waiting in line was torture. Half from the wonder of what he’d find. Half from suffocating crush of the others. Slowly, he inched through the doorway and took it all in. Ships of all shapes and sizes loomed over their heads. Like one of those auto-shows he’d seen when Suomo had a TV. Three bulk prisoner transports. Four high-occupancy commuter shuttles. And at least eight private craft. There was a sleek, sporty red vessel with soft edges and a flat nose. A silver luxury four-door with sixty-four point flight control. And even a glossy black ShadowBird with its muscular body and quad-core fusion engine.

Oki let the others beeline for those, picking a commuter shuttle instead. Something about it reminded him of the long, straight Copperfish his uncle used to hand-catch in the Rasalla River. They’d soaked up too many chemicals to be safe to eat, but when reminded his uncle would smile and say, “It’s nice to fish.”
Back when there were fish, anyway. This one’s mine.

He stepped onto the ramp leading inside, and the mob suddenly hushed. Oki turned. Rusaam and Kolpa had entered the hangar. Without a word, everyone parted in front of them to make way. Then in walked the Healer. Cheers. Laughter. Shouting. Crying. All of it exploded in an instant. Oki let out a whoop.

“Rasalla!” he called out, waving. Jogun waved back to the room then gestured to Rusaam who bent to listen. Rusaam straightened and raised his arms. The noise died in seconds.

“Listen up y’all! Pick a ship, get inside! Pilots, turn your comms to Channel Three! We’re blowing the doors when the ‘Moon is Low’! LET’S GO HOME!” The noise erupted again, louder and higher than before. Oki yelled himself red in the face and still couldn’t hear his own voice. It felt amazing. The love people had in their faces when they saw each other, even for him.
Not fear...love.
Hands trembling, Oki climbed into the Copperfish, joining roughly fifty brothers.

As a hangar foreman, he had all the basic vehicle packages jacked into his brain. Crawlers. Loaders. And Scouts.
Guess that makes me a pilot too!
He rubbed his hands together. Inside the cockpit, two sixteen-year-old, bottom level T99 soldiers bickered in the flight seats.

“Cuz you don’t know shit! That’s why. Cuz you. Don’t know. Shit! Intra-atmospheric avionics just ain’t the fuckin’ same as low-atmo maneuvering, and if you think I’m trustin’ yo ass with the flight stick, you crazy!”

“The thing with the motorcycle? That what this is about? We were
twelve
, man!”

“And you was drunk, yeah yeah, don’t matter! I ain’t never forgave you for that shit, and I ain’t about to trust you now with my life and the lives of every other sumbitch in this boat—AH, hey what the fuck?!”

Oki grabbed the kid by the neck and picked him up out of the seat. The kid went passive once he recognized a senior enforcer.

“Run along back there with the rest of the ‘sumbitches.’ Me and little man here got this,” said Oki. The kid nodded and took off for the upper passenger cabin. His friend, Little Man, tried to bite back a shit-eating grin as Oki sat down and strapped in.

“Now this ain’t no damn motorcycle,” said Oki, “You got this?”

“Y-yeah. Yeah I think—”

“Cool. What’s your name, little Nine?”

“Kiosu.”

“Kiosu,” Oki put on his headset, took quick stock of the flight controls, then started flipping switches. “You know the song right?”

“Yeah,” Kiosu ran through the co-pilot startup protocol, “Pop used to sing it to me.”

“My man...” Oki toggled the intercom, “We full up?!” Replies came over the headset all at once.

“Yeah!”

“Fuck yeah, good to go!”

“Rasalla!”

“Aight brothers, get ready to sing! ‘When the Moon is low,’ we go!” Oki closed the main hatch, pressurized the cabins, then punched the ignition.

“Kiosu, flip us to Channel Three and patch it through to the cabin,” said Oki. Kiosu nodded and dialed the comms. Four minutes passed in static before it started. Many voices as one. Clear and strong.

My ladies of my family, don’t worry don’t cry

Don’t stay awake all night for me, I’m not gonna die

I live to bring your bread to you, I fight to survive

My tools: a brain, a heart, a soul, and edge of a knife

No doubt the fear will follow me but I’m not afraid

A Nine-ty Nine is strongest when his brothers are brave

Rasalla Soldiers, God’s own soldiers, no one a slave

And for you, my people, nothin’s gonna stand in my way

So shut the doors and cut the lights right after I go

Lay your head and close your eyes, you know I’ll be home

Rasalla waits, I’m on my way, one thing you should know

Tonight my eyes won’t need more light

“
Be back before the moon is low
,” over three thousand voices said in unison through the intercom. The hangar doors along the wall burst in a shower of sparks and were sucked out into the canyon. The rush of escaping air pulled at the ships on their pads, scraping landing gear across the deck.

“Gear up! Engines to Idle-Three,” said Oki. Kiosu did his part. The ship dipped all at once, then stabilized with a low-frequency vibration felt through the bulkhead.

“Main thrusters?” asked Kiosu, his hand poised on the throttle. Oki nodded. Chuckled.

“Moon’s
risin’
tonight!”