Another large room, dominated by a great cylindrical column riddled with vertical slits, oozing sticky liquid, merging with the ceiling. Systie dropboxes and ration packs littered the deck.
'What's that, Systie?' Snow Leopard illuminated the column with the light from his E.
'Don't know,' the Systie responded. 'It's never done anything. Processing is topside. This way.' We eased past the structure, E's up and scanning. The psybloc grenade bathed the room with harsh light. Our helmet units continued to function. The door slammed shut behind us.
'It's an elevator,' the Systie said, 'this whole section of floor.'
'I've got movement,' Sweety whispered in my ears. 'Upstairs. Hundreds of targets—human, unarmed.' Our psybloc units suddenly shut off. The grenade continued to flare. We looked up to the ceiling. Even with the darksight, it was a confusing mess.
'Why would they stop probing?'
'To get us off guard. Let's get up there. Stay alert!' We moved onto the platform and the Systie touched a guardrail and we shot up to the ceiling and the ceiling snapped open and suddenly we were in Processing.
I clutched a psybloc grenade, but there was no sign of O's. We were in another large, darkened room, a forest of strange devices hanging down from the ceiling. The floor was covered with rags—no, people. The rags moved, fluttering. Someone coughed. Faces, pale pinched faces, blue from the cold. Dull glazed eyes. Civilians, huddled under thin blankets and dirty coldcoats, exhausted.
We walked through the room warily, eying the mysterious structures dangling from the ceiling. The deck was gritty, covered with trash. The civilians watched us silently. I could see in their eyes that they knew they were dead, and I wondered if they could see the same in ours.
'How many more of your guys here, Systie? Why haven't they responded?'
'They're up ahead—in Separation and Holding. Sounds don't carry in here. They probably don't know there's anything wrong.'
'More unarmored, unarmed humans in the corridor outside,' Sweety informed me.
'No psyprobe,' Tara added. 'But I don't like it here. There's something…wrong. Something oppressive.'
'Tell me about it,' Valkyrie said. The ceiling glittered with ice.
'You stay with me, Systie.' Snow Leopard had him by his tunic, propelling him toward the exit. Another door, another corridor, this one inhabited by ghosts. They huddled against the walls, standing, squatting, collapsed on the deck, shivering in the cold, too tired to move.
'They're all psyched,' Tara informed us. 'They're barely functioning.'
'These are all females,' Snow Leopard said, 'young females. Explain, Systie.' Snow Leopard was right—I could see no males.
'Ahh…this is Separation. The V make us divide the people into groups. The old, adult males and females, children…'
I glanced at the tacmap. This corridor was roughly circular, but it was closer to the center of the Mound than the corridor below.
Someone screamed, up ahead. One pushed the Systie to one side and moved up the corridor. I followed.
They were in a doorless alcove just off to one side, two of them, DefCorps Systies in litesuits. They had a naked girl with them. She was very pretty and very young. They did not even see us as we approached—they were busy. One of them raised a hand and slapped the girl in the face, hard. The screaming stopped. A few other girls watched from the corridor with glazed eyes and expressionless faces. One of the Systies held the girl down over a dropbox while the other one raped her, thrusting deeply into her, his pants around his knees. There was a lot of blood—he was not being gentle.
Snow Leopard and I stepped into the alcove. The Systies looked up and saw black armor, gleaming in the dark. Their eyes widened in shock. My laser sight lit up the forehead of the one who was restraining the girl. Then his head exploded. The other one scrambled away like a crippled dog until Snow Leopard's boot landed on his back. Snow Leopard brought his E to bear on the back of the Systie's head, but an armored hand reached out and lifted the barrel of his E away from the target.
'Let me…please?' Valkyrie asked. The Systie twisted like a snake, thrashing around in the rubbish on the floor. He was on his back now, his pants tangled around his ankles. Valkyrie stood over him with an eerie smile. The laser sight lit up the Systie's crotch. He whimpered, and Valkyrie fired a burst on laser. I turned my head away. The Systie shrieked from the very depths, and then passed out.
'He's still alive,' Valkyrie said calmly, 'but it's all right—he'll bleed to death.'
'She's in shock,' Priestess said, looking after the girl.
'She's psyched,' Tara added. 'They all are.'
'Is this considered a fringe benefit, Systie?' Snow Leopard seized our Systie by the front of his tunic and slammed him up against the wall, the barrel of the E resting against the Systie's throat. Snow Leopard's pale pink eyes were glittering hatred, and I knew the Systie was in serious trouble.
'Unauthorized!' the Systie gasped. 'The V have made us crazy! We try to help the packs!' Our psybloc units suddenly came on, crackling to life, lighting up the hall.
'Enemy probes!' Sweety announced. 'Two probes, as marked, projecting psypower, unidentified capabilities, approaching our position!' They were on the tacmap, coming at us along the corridor. I raised two weapons, the E and an SG. Another SG dangled from one shoulder.
'Auto xmax,' Snow Leopard ordered. He released his grip on the Systie, who slid down the wall to the floor, bathed in sweat. 'Fire at my command. Grenades—now!'
Back to the wall, I set both weapons to auto xmax. A couple of psybloc grenades burst brightly down corridor, lighting us all up. A girl in a blanket whimpered beside me—the corridor was lined with civilians.
'Get down on the floor,' I suggested. Closer—here they come! Probes, floating effortlessly just below the ceiling, coming right at us.
'High and rising psyprobe readings!'
'It can't resist them,' the Systie said.
'Fire,' Snow Leopard ordered. I opened up with the E and the SG both. We all fired and the corridor exploded, a titanic, continuing multiple starburst, shrieking, awful catastrophe, the shock waves buffeting our A-suits. I kept my finger locked on autofire and the walls began to disintegrate, shrapnel pinging off my armor, the ceiling coming down, glowing and smoking.
'Cease fire! Cease fire!'
'Probes eliminated,' Sweety reported.
'I feel much better now,' Psycho said dreamily. Our psybloc units switched off abruptly. A sudden silence descended on us. The corridor ahead burnt and hissed. The deck was littered with wreckage. The civilians whimpered.
'Think there were any people down there?'
'Not any more.'
'Where's that Systie?' Snow Leopard demanded. 'Get him over here! Systie, we want to get into the interior of this installation—how do we get in?'
The Systie was bleeding from minor shrapnel wounds. He appeared stunned and exhausted. 'The V don't let us in past the third corridor,' he said, 'and even the third is blocked at both ends. There are terrible things in there—believe us, it doesn't want to go further.'
'One—we've got something here!' Dragon stood before another black cenite door. We moved up. Someone had crudely sprayed two words over the door: HOLDING—BRATS.
'I detect numerous human targets within, all unarmored,' Sweety informed me. Dragon hit the control and the door slid open.
We went in guns up and we thought we were ready for anything but we were not ready for what was in there—a great hall full of dying children lying in their own filth, too tired to move, hollow blue-grey faces, tragic unblinking eyes, wasted little arms clutching rags for warmth. There was a muted wailing in the air—they were too close to death to cry.
'Deadman's death,' someone said quietly.
'My holy God.'
We made our way carefully into the room, stepping between the children. They were all very young—toddlers and pre-schoolers.
