“I’m afraid that we are going to have to take that chance.”
“I thought as much.”
“If you could help by pinning back my antennae,” TenSix said.
“Sure.” I helped him arrange himself into the smallest size he could. I found an omni-tool in the belt pouch of the stolen uniform I wore, and used it to pry off a panel on the air exchanger duct. It made me miss my judder knife, which was in a holster on my discarded exosuit. Again, dumb move not to have retrieved that suit.
“You can do this, TenSix!” I said, as I lifted him into the duct and gave him the omni-tool.
“I will try my best, Jannigan Beck. And if I am unsuccessful, I want you to know that I am glad we met. You are a rather brave and competent person.”
“You too, buddy. But let’s think positive here. I’ll see you when you open up that damn security door!”
I watched as he whirred and clanked his way through the duct. It was up to TenSix now. There wasn’t much I could do from this side.
No more than a minute after he left, I heard a muffled boom from the other end of the tunnel. What was that?
As I approached the northeast security door, I heard another odd sound: a low metallic creaking. It seemed to be coming from one of the pipes or conduits up by the ceiling.
I heard it again. This time the creaking sound was followed by a ping, oddly distant. What could it be?
I got my answer a few seconds later when the hiss of gas emanated from the cluster of pipes. Specifically, from the orange pipe.
Oh shit!
21
I stumbled away, fear clenching at my heart.
NECRO-7. That’s what was in the orange pipe. And that was how the Mayir were going to kill me.
They were pumping in a military-grade neurotoxin into this sealed-off section of tunnel. I could see a greenish mist drift down from a trio of nozzles on the far end of the orange pipe. They were spaced far enough apart that it would be impossible to cover them without coming in direct contact with the green mist.
Fuck.
I ran back to the air exchanger duct and shouted for TenSix. “Hurry, TenSix! They’re piping in that NECRO-7 stuff. I don’t have much time!”
That was true. I had no idea how fast this section of tunnel was filling with NECRO-7. This mist from the pipe was settling downward without much drift, so it was probably heavier than air. But it was tough to guess how long before the green mist made its way over to the far side of the tunnel where I was trapped.
My racing mind tried to figure it out, anyway.
I could approximate the volume of the tunnel, knowing that it was roughly twenty-four meters long and had a diameter of four meters. Unbidden, the formula for calculating the volume of a cylinder popped into my head, and I found myself multiplying the radius of the tunnel squared by its length and then by pi.
Unless I messed up my calculations, this section of the tunnel had a volume of roughly 300 cubic meters—301.59 if you wanted to get exact. In reality, the actual volume of the air here would be less, accounting for all the pipes, conduits, ducts, cables, and everything else that took up space in the tunnel. Let’s call it ten percent. That left over 270 cubic meters of space that was filling up with poison gas.
But the more I thought about it, the worse it got.
The green mist didn’t have to fill up the entire volume of the tunnel to kill me. It just had to come in contact with my skin—which it could easily do once it reached a depth of fifteen centimeters.
I had no idea what the dispersal rate of NECRO-7 was or how fast it was moving towards me, but all it really had to do was cover the length of the tunnel. Twenty-four meters.
I guessed that I had five minutes tops—probably less. As I did the math, a feeling of despair blossomed in my gut.
Fourteen cubic meters worth of gas in the tunnel. That’s all it would take to reach me.
To kill me.
“TenSix, can you hear me?” I shouted into the air exchanger duct.
I heard a scrambling noise in the duct.
“TenSix?”
“Yes, I’m back.” He climbed out of the duct. “I regret to say that I have failed in my mission. There is no control on the other side of the door. It must be remotely operated. I am sorry.”
Then he registered the gas.
“Oh no.”
I pounded on the security door, and an anguished wail escaped from my lips.
How could this be happening?
Frantically, I searched again for any hidden panels, hatches, access doors—anything that might save my ass.
Nothing.
I felt my throat tickle. Maybe it was my imagination, but maybe it was the very first effects of the toxin.
I glanced from TenSix to the far side of the tunnel. The green mist had settled there on the floor. It had covered more than half of the tunnel and it was rolling my way. Inexorably.
“That’s it,” I gasped.
“I know,” TenSix said. “The NECRO-7 is entering the room through a multi-pressor manifold at a rate of—”
“No! Do not tell me. Just shut up.”
Panic stabbed through me and I staggered back against the wall. The cool surface of the hyaline porthole pressed against my cheek. I tried to control my breathing and my heart rate, but I couldn’t.
Damn it!
I didn’t want to die here.
Suddenly my mind flooded with millions of thoughts—a cacophony of voices. It was like everyone I ever knew was trying to talk to me—all at once.
I couldn’t make out what they were saying. There was too much noise. Too much chaos.
My head began to pound and I could feel it in my temples. A tightness formed around my head.
The voices didn’t stop. They were growing louder. The din sharpened. Sounds melted together. Coalesced.
Until there was one
