“Either we find Kang and get to the shuttle now or the monitors will kill us,” Marten said. “At this point it’s them or us.”
“Yeah?” said Lance. “So why don’t they pick you up at the barracks? All the monitors have to do is show cause, fill out a request and the Training Master will hand you over.”
Marten shook his head. “We stumbled onto a drug ring. These are corrupt monitors.”
“So report them,” said Lance.
Marten shoved the majority of his credits at Lance. “We robbed them.”
Lance squinted suspiciously. “That isn’t like you, maniple leader. What’s really going on?”
“Do you want your cut or not?” asked Marten.
Lance shoved the credits back. “Sorry, not my style.”
“Okay,” Marten said, almost trusting Lance enough to tell him the truth. But there wasn’t time. “You can report us and you’re safe. Or you can come with us. But you have to decide now. If you do nothing they’ll think you’re with us and kill you too.”
Lance studied the two of them. “What do you think, Vip?”
Small Vip said, “They’re 101st. The others are corrupt monitors.”
“Right,” said Lance. “We’re in,” he told Marten.
Ten minutes later, they found Kang in a dark bar where he sang quietly to himself. Marten dosed him with anti-drunk that he’d picked up at a pill shop. They dragged Kang outside and hurried down the street, brushing through the crowds.
“Shouldn’t we move more slowly?” asked Lance. “Try and catch them napping?”
“Speed and surprise,” Marten said.
“And savagery,” added Omi.
“Right,” Marten said. “That’s all we’ve got.”
“It probably doesn’t hurt then that we’re shock troopers,” said Lance.
They neared the lift building as Kang started blinking. He’d been in a near trance, eyes staring as he moved like a sleepwalker. “What’s going on?” he muttered.
“Hansen is double-crossing us,” Omi said.
“The little maggot?” Kang said.
“What—” Lance started to say.
“Sir!” said a policeman, stepping in front of Marten.
Omi used Vip to shield the projac from the crowd and shot the cop with two sleep needles. They pushed the falling policeman aside and hurried through an imitation, vine-covered archway.
“Stop them!” shouted a man on the street, a janitor who dropped his broom and pulled out a communicator and gun.
“Run!” shouted Marten.
The five-man team knocked people flying. Kang bellowed in delight. Vip giggled. Omi, Lance and Marten concentrated with grim intensity. They skidded and almost tripped as they hit the lifts. Marten dug out his card. Omi twisted around and snapped off shots at three monitors running at them. Two fell. The last monitor, shorter than the other two and with wide shoulders—it was Ervil from Smade’s—threw himself prone, drew and fired back. Vip grunted and slammed against the lift as the door opened. Lance dragged him in and they all hugged the floor. The door slid shut as needles prickled the back wall.
“I’m hit,” Vip said, touching his thigh. Then his eyes drooped shut.
“This is too much,” said Lance. “Either way the HBs are gonna know about it.”
“Maybe not,” Marten said.
“In any case,” said Lance, “the monitors will be waiting for us.”
“Hansen can’t have that many crooked monitors,” Marten said. “Besides, he just woke up and must be trying to pull them all together.”
“Yeah, right” said Lance. He checked Vip and turned back to Marten. “Where did you get the bug?”
“What bug?” Kang said.
“He stole it from Hansen,” Omi said.
“We’re slowing down,” Marten said.
They braced themselves, projacs drawn as they knelt on either side of the door. It opened—the hall was empty.
“Go, Kang,” whispered Marten. “Take Vip. Use him as a shield.”
“Hey,” said Lance. “That’s—”
Kang charged with the unconscious Vip in his arms. Two big men in black suits stepped from around a corner, firing. It was Dalt and Methlen, the original duo from Smade’s. One had a bloody mouth and he was missing two front teeth. Someone must have found the sleeping due, reported it and medics had probably given them wake-up and stims.
Omi and Marten began to fire.
One of the monitors slid to the floor. The other, who was missing his teeth, must have been wearing a vest.
Kang roared as he charged.
The last monitor snarled, lifted his projac—
Marten dove out of the lift for a better angle, firing, hitting the man’s arm. The man dropped his weapon. Then Kang was on him.
“Go,” Marten said, jumping off the floor.
“Is he hit again?” Lance asked Kang as they sprinted down the corridor.
“He’s still breathing. Here.” Kang tossed little Vip. Then the four ran even harder. Behind them, lift doors opened and angry men shouted. Pounding feet told of a hotly contested chase.
“Kang!” shouted Hansen, probably using an amplifier. “This isn’t the end of it, Kang!”
Kang laughed. “We can take them,” he said.
“Go, go,” Marten said.
They raced toward the docking tube, Marten in the lead. He forgot what Lycon had told them about shuttle procedure. He didn’t know if the tube doors would only open when their leave was over or whether they could come back early and get in.
“Here we go,” Marten said, pitching his projac to Kang. Marten hit the tube door with a grunt, fumbled with the slot and slid the card through. “Open,” he pleaded.
“Here they come,” Omi said.
“Try it again!” snarled Lance.
Marten slid the card again, and again. He cursed, turned the card and slid it through a last time. The door opened. They piled through, Marten last of all. He glanced back. Three monitors with guns raced into view, one of them short wide-shouldered Ervil together with his taller, dark-haired companion. Hansen, his thin hair disheveled and his face flushed and sweaty, came up behind them.
“Stop!” shouted Hansen.
The door closed and Marten raced up the boarding tube to catch up with the others. Finally, he passed the airlock and entered the military shuttle.
“What are you going to do about your weapons?” whispered Lance. “We can’t take them to the barracks.”
“Wait,” Marten said, who took his projac from Kang.
A minute went by, two, three and four more.
“We made it,” Omi said. “We’re safe—for now.”
Marten heaved off his knee where he’d hidden beside the airlock. He slid into a seat and grinned. “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do.” He raised his projac. “We’ll break them apart and flush them down the toilet once we take off.”
Lance shook his head. “Sure hope it works.”
“Yeah,” Marten said. “Me too.”
