A Taste Of Despair (The Humal Sequence) (35 page)

“It would also be a good idea not to set any alarms off.” Klane pointed out. “Grunts on a boring detail will jump at any excitement that gives them an excuse to shoot at things.”

“Surely they won’t have live weapons?” Johnson frowned. “I mean, if it’s just for show and all?”

“The vehicles will be deactivated – the weapons at least – but the side-arms will be real enough.” Hamilton replied.

“I guess I’d better get us inside without tripping any alarms, then.” Jones sighed. “Okay, if everyone’s done gawking, help me get this vent fan removed.”

Removing the fan involved undoing a ridiculous number of bolts. Carl had brought along a small toolkit with appropriate equipment but, even so, they had barely begun before Jones gave a start and told them to stop.

“What’s up?” Carl asked. “We set off an alarm, or something?”

Everyone was still, waiting for Jones’ reply.

“No…” Jones murmured. “Quite the opposite.” He glanced back at the roof door. “Apparently the security to the roof door just dropped. In fact….it looks like the security on the entire upper two levels just went down.”

They looked at one another, uncertain.

“Have we been discovered?” Klane wondered. “Are there security people on their way up here right now?”

The comment had her and Hamilton moving to either side of the door, whilst the others spread out in front of the door, weapons drawn.

For a tense few minutes they waited, but the door remained shut and, according to Jones, without security.

“What do we do?” Jones asked.

Hamilton reached out and turned the handle on the door, then pulled it open with a suddenness that surprised them all except Klane, who darted inside at once, stun pistol held out in front of her.

“Nothing.” She said after a moment. Light blazed out of the stairwell, illuminating the group as they relaxed visibly.

“What’s going on?” LeGault frowned.

“One of two things.” Hamilton answered. “Either the security went off due to some glitch – maybe they are doing maintenance on it or something – or it was turned off deliberately. One way is a happy coincidence for us, the other means someone knows we’re here.”

“Why would anyone who knew we were here turn off the security system?” Carl wondered.

“I don’t know. But I’m not going to waste the opportunity whatever the reason for it. Everyone inside!” Hamilton told them.

Hamilton had a fairly good idea who might be responsible. His third option for exiting the planet was looking increasingly likely.

They filed in nervously, Hamilton bringing up the rear and closing the door behind them. He half expected Jones to announce the security had come back up, but it didn’t. The security grid remained offline.

“Must be some sort of maintenance work.” Jones muttered.

“At this time of night?” Johnson frowned.

“Best time for it,” Jones told her. “Late at night, no one around. Take it down, upgrade it, put it back up again before the boss returns in the morning.”

“I don’t like it!” Klane growled. “It’s too convenient. The soldiers, the alarms…What are the odds…?”

Hamilton was asking himself the same question and not liking the answers he came up with. But the security outage was beneficial to them and he wasn’t going to waste it.

“Enough chatter. Klane, take point. Down to the next level. Everyone remember your training. Move as a unit, don’t bunch up.”

Klane moved off down the stairwell, adding. “Remember, you have stunners. So shoot first and ask questions later if there are any surprises waiting for us.”

The top floor of the Institute was, as they already knew, given over to research. As they entered the corridor outside the stairwell, it was obvious someone was still there and working. The corridor lighting was subdued, as if the building had a night-cycle routine that ran in tandem with Mars’ own day-night cycle. So it was easy to see the light coming from under a door twenty feet further down the hallway.

Hamilton and Klane quietly took up station outside the door, on either side whilst the rest hung back a little.

“Gap’s too narrow for the optical probe.” Klane noted, with irritation.

“Then we’ll have to do it the old fashioned way. On three…One, two, three!”

Hamilton wrenched the doorknob and threw the door wide. Klane leapt through, gun at the ready, yelling at someone to get their hands up.

Hamilton jumped right after her, his own gun leveled and ready.

Inside, the room was what anyone would imagine a research lab to be. Machines lined the walls, each tailored to a specific task. Benches ran down the center of the room, lined with assorted chemical apparatus. There was plenty of light, plenty of scientific gear and a feel of “work in progress” about the place.

Other than Klane and Hamilton there was but a single occupant of the lab. He was an old man, perhaps into his eighties. It was difficult to tell age reliably, Hamilton knew. There were so many ways available to make one look whatever age you wanted to, these days. But given humanity’s still present vanity about appearance, few went out of their way to look older than they actually were. So the man was probably at least as old as he appeared.

His hair was thinning and almost white and his wrinkled face had more than its share of marks and spots consistent with advancing years. He was dressed casually. There was no lab-coat for this fellow. But he sat at the far end of the room, next to a molecular scanner, the bed of which contained a non-descript brown lump.

At Klane’s intrusion, he had turned around and put his hands up. But the thing that struck Hamilton when he entered the room and saw the man was just how calm he seemed to be.

“Keep those hands where I can see them!” Klane warned the old man.

He nodded. “I assure you, I will do nothing foolish.” His voice was deeper than might have been expected and just as calm as his demeanor.

“Who are you?” Hamilton asked him. Behind him, the others cautiously entered the room, fanning out in good order. Carl stayed by the door, watching the corridor.

So, some of the training stuck, after all
. Hamilton noted with pleasure. His little group was hardly a crack commando unit, but they were doing a pretty good impression of one.

“I am Walner Tane.” The man smiled. “As I’m sure you are aware.”

“What do you do here, Walner?” Klane asked.

Tane frowned. “I am one of the senior researchers here. But why keep up this farce? Is it to be summary execution? Or am I to be apprehended for interrogation and a show trial?”

Hamilton and Klane exchanged glances. There was something not right here.

“Why would we execute you?” Johnson said, from off to one side.

Tane glanced over at her, a frown creasing his own already wrinkled face. “Why would you not? An assault team bursts into my lab in the middle of the night….I have to assume my borrowed time has run out.”

“Borrowed time?” Hamilton scowled inside his helmet. “Borrowed from what? Who are you? What is it you’ve done that makes you think we’re here to kill you?”

Tane’s expression was one of confusion now. “I… If you haven’t come here for me… then what are you here for?”

“We’re looking for a scientist, it’s true.” Hamilton told him. “But not anyone specific. Someone well versed in Humal knowledge. You just happened to be the first person we’ve come across.”

Tane bore a look of relief. “I assumed…but no. I see now I was in error. When the security went off, I thought the worst. It’s never done that before. So I thought…”

“You thought we were coming for you, because of something you’ve done.” Hamilton finished. “Something in the past. You were hiding here?”

Tane’s expression had turned from resignation to one of calmness again. “I feel that, to say more would incriminate myself. So I must decline to answer further. You may not be here for me, but you are still Imperial Marines. No doubt you will make a report. It’s not in my interest to say anything else.”

“Well, Walner.” Hamilton told him. “We’re not here for you and we could care less about what it is that’s making you hide from the Imperials. All we need is an expert on Humal history, culture and so on. If you can point us in the right direction, we’ll stun you unconscious and be on our way and you can go back to being in hiding.”

Tane frowned. “Why would Marines need an expert on Humal history?”

Hamilton sighed, then reached up to remove his helmet. “I’m not a Marine. None of us are. We’re….privateers…you might say.”

Tane’s eye’s widened. “I know you! I’ve seen you on the news! You’re terrorists!”

“Hardly!” Klane muttered.

“Rumors of our atrocities have been greatly exaggerated.” Hamilton stated. “As someone in hiding from the Empire, you of all people should appreciate how that can work out.”

“I don’t believe I said I was hiding. You said that.” Tane replied.

“Well, hiding or not, you sure picked an odd place to lay low.” Klane observed.

“I am where I need to be, logically.” Tane answered.

Hamilton was tired of the cryptic nonsense already. “Look, Walner. Here’s the deal. Believe it or not, we are not terrorists. Nor are we here to kill you. We came looking for a scientist to help us with…shall we say, a matter of an alien nature. But, because the Empire has us marked as terrorists, we’ve had a hard time getting to this point. We’re tired, we’re on the run and we are most definitely irritable! So, like I said, if you can point us at the relevant person, we’ll be on our way.”

“I’m afraid I’m the only person working tonight. The others don’t have quite the same level of devotion that I do. In the morning, maybe, or perhaps I could help with your alien problem. I am well-versed in Humal knowledge.”

“No offense.” Hamilton said. “But you seem a little old and frail for our needs.”

“Indeed!” Tane scowled. “Is that how it seems? By the way, is that some sort of gas I smell?” Tane made a sniffing motion and then his eyelids drooped and he slumped in his chair.

Abruptly, Hamilton did smell the gas, or whatever it was. He began to order everyone out, fearing a sneak attack, but it was already too late. He dropped to his knees, hearing the others collapse around him.

Wait
. He thought.
They have their helmets still on.
How is it they are being gassed?

There was something else, as well. Something in his head, like a rat scratching around in his brain. The events of the last few years of his life spooled past his mind’s eye in an instant. Then the rat was gone, but the lethargy of the gas remained.

For a while, the feeling remained then, as suddenly as it had overwhelmed him, it was gone, leaving him as he had been before.

No
. He realized. I
feel better than before. Less tired, refreshed, almost
.

He looked up to find Tane watching him from his seat by the bench still.

“What did you do?” He growled. Around him, the others were still in a seeming drugged stupor.

“Relax. I have done you and your friends no harm. You must forgive me for the mental intrusion, however. Given who I am, and who I thought you might be, it seemed simpler to do a mental reading than continue our conversation which was, frankly, getting tedious.” Tane explained.

“My life…” Hamilton began.