Inquisitor (29 page)

Angel strode out of the bridge and down a dimly lit corridor. Emergency lights lent the place an eerie, greenish cast.

Once at the life-pods, she programmed two with roundabout journeys that would take them back to Sercan. Let the Genevolve make of that what she will. She couldn’t afford not to find out what was inside. She’d have to chase them both down before they made it back to the orbital.

Angel triggered the life-pods to release and, through a small window, watched their thrusters burn until they split off in separate vectors. She laughed to herself. Whoever designed this ship knew human nature. They’d known if someone was still inside the freighter, they’d want to watch the life-pods make it to safety. Not through the ship’s systems, as they mightn’t be viable, but with their own eyes.

She turned away from the now pinpricks of light. There wasn’t much to do except wait. Automated systems and repair automatons would do what they could, working until they reached an impasse.

Time for a drink.

“Charlotte,”
she subvocalized,
“meet me in the mess.”

Angel made her way through the ship’s corridors.

“Charlotte?”

[Angel, there’s… something here.]

Fear and uncertainty tinged Charlotte’s voice.

“What is it?”

[I don’t know. Something moved outside the bridge. I closed and secured the door.]

“I’m on my way.”
Angel drew her hand-cannon. They were in worse trouble than she thought. If there was something on board, the Genevolve must have placed it there, somehow. And it wouldn’t be playing games. Chances were it was an automaton, probably deadly. She switched her ammunition to armor-piercing/incendiary. The ship was already damaged; a little more wouldn’t make much of a difference, and it might mean their survival.

As she neared the corridor leading to the bridge, she stopped, calming herself and controlling her breathing. Sweat gathered into her eyebrows from her forehead, and she wiped it away, drying her hands on her shirt. Another thought came to her: If whatever was on board had come from the Genevolve, then she would know where they were. The construct was bound to have a locator device built into it.

Angel gritted her teeth and suppressed a curse. She pressed her back into the wall. She didn’t want to lose herself in the ship’s systems, not with a potentially deadly automaton on the loose, but she had to check.

Sure enough, the ship following them hadn’t altered course to intercept one of the life-pods. It had accelerated toward their position.

Bloody hells.

The cameras showing the space outside the bridge door were down, a glitch likely due to the damage the ship had sustained. Angel sidled closer to the corner, slimy hands clutching the nonslip grip of her hand-cannon.

“Charlotte, lie flat on the floor.”

[Okay.]

The bridge was secure, surrounded by inches of armor plating to prevent forced access. But it never paid to take chances.

With the wall edge a few centimeters from her face, she ducked her head forward. One eye obtained a full view of the corridor, and she jerked back. Her implants brought up the picture of the bridge door and enhanced it. There was a small dark shape suspended from a corner of the ceiling. Halfway down the corridor, the grill from a ventilation shaft lay on the floor, the hole it should have covered left open at ground level.

Angel glanced over her shoulder. Was there only one, or more? She had no way of knowing.

Well, there was nothing for it. She took a breath and spun around the corner, firing.

Loud pops hammered her eardrums in the confined space. Explosions ripped the air and filled it with shrapnel and heat and scorched metal.

It wasn’t in the corner. Metallic claws scrabbled across the floor toward her. She fired again. Missed. And again. This time, the round slammed into the automaton’s carapace. Flames licked its surface as it tumbled backward. It came to a rest on its side, spiderlike legs twitching. Thick smoke poured from a hole in its side.

Angel slumped to the floor with relief.

[Angel, are you all right?]

She swallowed, mouth dry.
“Yes. The—”

A long fracture appeared in the automaton’s shell. With a crack, it widened. Three tarantula-like machines emerged. As one, they scuttled about to face her.

Angel brought her weapon up and fired. Bullets filled the air between them. Explosions cascaded throughout the corridor. The constructs jumped and skittered, this way and that. All her rounds missed. And they came for her.

Shit, shit.

Angel lurched to her feet and bolted down the corridor, away from the bridge. Switching her ammo, she fired behind her without looking. Recoil barely shaking her hand, mini-grenades shot out with soft “plops”, scattering across the floor and adhering to the wall and ceiling, covering her escape.

Incandescence flashed like a strobe light from behind, throwing Angel’s shadow darkly in front of her. Waves of heat and pressure slapped her back, punching her forward. She stumbled but kept going, running and firing until her grenade count was almost zero.

Save some
, she thought frantically to herself.
Get a grip.

[Angel!]

The end of the corridor loomed ahead. Angel threw herself forward, hands extended. She slid across the floor, twisting onto her back. Knees up, she pressed her boots down, slowing herself as best she could. She took aim between her legs. Her momentum stopped.

Smoke filled the corridor behind her. She couldn’t see anything. No movement. No shadows.

Breath coming in harsh gasps, she waited. Nothing.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,”
she sent to Charlotte.

[Thank goodness! I was worried. I’ll come out—]

“No! Stay put. There are three constructs loose. I don’t know where they are. Small ones, hand-sized.”

Abruptly, the ship jolted.

[She’s here.]

Angel scrambled to her feet. She could go back through her mini-grenade field, except it wouldn’t do her any good if she couldn’t trigger them without killing herself. But if the constructs were smart, and she had no reason to doubt they were, they’d be searching for a way around them, using the ventilation conduits, most likely.

She made a decision and ran back the way she’d come. She held her breath through the smoke, which was quickly dispersing. Out of the worst of it, Angel scanned the corridor. She pointed her hand-cannon, ready to fire at anything that moved. There was no sign of the constructs. She aimed the weapon jerkily at shadows and corners. She had to have destroyed at least one, otherwise her mini-grenades wouldn’t have triggered. Angel licked her lips and crept forward. The corridor floor was a mess of gouged, scorched metal and shrapnel.

[Secondary hull breech.]

“I’m coming. Wait until I give the all clear.”

[There’s no use barricading ourselves on the bridge. She could just ignore us and take my mind. And besides, we need the data from her ship. Better yet, her implants.]

“I know.”

Angel kept glancing over her shoulder. Still nothing. She increased her pace. The corner was up ahead. She poked the muzzle of her weapon around the edge and squeezed out another mini-grenade. Three left.

When it didn’t trigger, she stepped around, weapon steady. Again, nothing. Angel hurried toward the bridge door. At the rectangular grill in front of the open ventilation hole, she crouched and squeezed another grenade off. Two left. But there were more with the rest of her gear in the cargo bay, close to Charlotte’s mind. If they could make it there.

“Open up.”

Immediately, the bridge doors cycled open. Charlotte stood there, arms hugging her chest. Her face was pale, green eyes wild.

“She’s inside,” Charlotte blurted. “I fought off the virus she inserted into the ship’s systems, but not until it did some damage.”

Great,
Angel thought.
That’s all we need
. Angel brought up every available camera and set parameters to alert her for movement, then collapsed them. She couldn’t let herself be distracted searching through them all. They needed to keep moving.

“Where’s she likely to go?”

Charlotte tilted her head. “She… she will know where we are now. Her automatons do, and they can communicate with her. But she knows my mind, my essence, can only be in one place. It’s too big to be anywhere other than the cargo bay.”

“Then that’s where we go.”

“Angel… I’m scared.”

Angel took Charlotte’s hand in hers, trying to come up with words to comfort her. And failing. To her surprise, Charlotte drew in close and hugged her.

“Thank you,” Charlotte said.

“For what?”

“For everything. Whatever happens, I’ll be forever grateful.”

If we survive
. “Sure,” Angel said with a nervous smile. Contact with Charlotte made her slightly uncomfortable. She had to keep reminding herself that Charlotte, this Charlotte, was an extension of the other. The cute little girl avatar was difficult to wrap her head around. But whatever she was now, she’d started out as a scared child who’d been kidnapped, wrenched from her home and her life, and experimented on by Mercurial. Some of that girl must still form part of Charlotte’s makeup.

“There, there,” she said, patting Charlotte on the head. She hesitated, then returned the hug with her free left arm. “It’ll be all right.”

Charlotte sniffled and let go, wiping her tears. She smoothed her clothes, keeping her eyes averted, as if embarrassed. Angel noticed she’d repainted her nails. Not girly pink, this time. They were coal-black.

Charlotte looked up and flashed her a quick grin filled with false bravado. “Let’s go, then.” Her eyes were red-rimmed.

Angel nodded and led the way. She consulted the ship’s schematics, overlaid with their current state. A number of corridors were off-limits, having been sealed or too badly damaged. It would be best if they didn’t try a straight-on approach. Who knew what was waiting for them?

“This way,” Angel said. “We’ll pass by the Pinchier drives. Keep an eye behind us. There are at least two constructs left.”

They moved quickly, as stealthily as they could. Angel kept her hand-cannon aimed in front of her, but it was getting heavy. They turned left at the mess and kept going down a narrow service duct and out the other side. Here, the air was redolent with the acrid scent of burnt plastic and scorched metal. Sparks occasionally fell from broken lights, and a number of floor-to-ceiling wall panels had jolted loose, leaning diagonally across the corridor and revealing exposed wires, conduits, and pipes. They scrambled over and under them.

“The cargo bay is up ahead,” whispered Charlotte.

“Yes. The cameras haven’t picked her up yet.” Angel chewed a thumbnail. She was worried. The Genevolve couldn’t have disappeared into thin air. Which meant she was hiding. She dropped her right hand and massaged her wrist, elbow, and forearm. She wished she’d chosen a lighter weapon.

“Be careful,” she said softly. Angel moved forward, one deliberate step at a time, until the entrance to the cargo bay was visible. She peered into the gloom, optic implants scanning through different spectrums. Nothing.

“Keep close,” she said.

Charlotte nodded.

Angel made her way to the entrance, all the time keeping her focus on the space inside the docking bay. It was a jumbled mess of machinery and parts. Charlotte had kept her makeshift manufactory running day and night, and boxes and crates of all different sizes filled the space. A few metallic boxes similar to the one that originally held Charlotte caught her eye. They hadn’t been there before. Or maybe they had and were covered. Now, the manufactory was quiet, though. Its bulky square form dominated the space, surrounded by the clutter of raw materials and finished parts.

Which one is Charlotte?
wondered Angel. She realized she didn’t know. There were at least six boxes that could contain her. Maybe that was the point.

Hesitantly, Angel inched her way toward the nearest cover, a plastic crate filled with what looked like abandoned metal pipes. She glanced back at Charlotte, intending to wave her over. Behind the girl, a wall panel moved. It fell from vertical and crashed into the opposite wall. Charlotte jumped at the sound just as Summer leapt from the alcove behind the panel and grabbed her. This time, she didn’t have a smile plastered on her face, but a scowl.

Charlotte screamed. Summer grabbed Charlotte close with one arm and jammed a small gun against the side of her head with the other. Charlotte struggled, kicking out with her feet until she was lifted from the ground.

Angel aimed her hand-cannon at the Genevolve’s head. She didn’t remember raising it. Ammo cycled as she considered and discarded various options, eventually settling on a single-shot needle. More like a knitting needle, she remembered joking once. She couldn’t get a clear shot.

Charlotte’s struggles weakened. Sweat dripped into Angel’s eyes, and she blinked furiously to clear them. Her implants analyzed the Genevolve’s gun as a sleek automatic pulse pistol. Charlotte wouldn’t survive if shot at that range.

Angel backed away and crouched behind the crate, poking her hand-cannon between metal pipes.

“Angel!” yelled Charlotte.

The Genevolve grinned fiercely. “You’re not going to fire on her. Give up. Drop your weapon.”

“Shoot her!” screamed Charlotte.

Angel lifted her hand-cannon. The Genevolve moved from side to side, keeping Charlotte in front of her. It was too risky. She lowered her hand-cannon for a second then raised it again, trying for a clear shot.

“Angel! Don’t worry about me.”

Bloody hells
. Angel blinked more sweat from her eyes. She had to shoot, or all was lost. But Charlotte was only a young girl. Or was she? Was she really alive? Of course she was. She couldn’t kill her. Even if Angel’s aim was true, the Genevolve would fire reflexively. She had no choice. Angel lowered her weapon.

The expression on Charlotte’s face struck her to her heart. Sadness and disappointment, and yet… she smiled at Angel.

Tears rolled down Angel’s face. Charlotte sobbed as well, her tears joining Angel’s.