Alien Chronicles 2 - The Crimson Claw (40 page)

“Ehssk won’t punish me, if that’s what you’re after,” she said boldly. “I’m still valuable to his plans. But you aren’t. Have you considered that? Maybe if they’re short on funds, they’ll put you in one of these cages and inject acid in your veins to see what happens.”

Niruo’s ears snapped back and he snarled fearfully. “You’d like that, but it won’t happen. I got—” He stopped, as though aware he was about to say too much. He glared at her, and vanished.

“Off he goes, to tell the whole plan,” Matiril said scornfully. “Ought to break his scrawny neck.”

“That may be necessary, when the time comes,” Ampris said, her cold tone making them stare, first in surprise, then in appreciation. “Now, back to the plan. First we find the access points of the gas pipe, and any weaknesses. Look for places of poor maintenance. Who’s been assigned to clean the offices this week?”

“Me,” said Robuhl, an elderly Myal. He had once been a scholar and archivist at a Viis university. Now he was here because of political sabotage. Ampris nodded at him. He was perfect for her purposes.

“Good, Robuhl,” she said. “Do you think you can find a manual for the building’s safety and emergency evacuation procedures?”

Robuhl’s cage was at the far end of the row from hers, but Ampris could see him nodding vigorously. “I have seen it, both in hard form and a labeled data crystal in the storerooms. The techs never look at such materials. It is easily obtained.”

“Good. As soon as you can, please get it to me,” Ampris said.

“Can you read Viis, Ampris?” he asked her.

“Yes.”

Robuhl beamed and shook back his gray mane. “The power of learning is once again proven—”

“Shut up, old one,” Matiril said impatiently. “What good does a book be to us?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Ampris told him. “It depends on how the building was designed to be evacuated.”

“What do you mean?” Paket asked her. “How we going to get past the Viis techs to do these things?”

“You’ll see,” Ampris said. “I’ll give you the details later, when I’m sure it can work. Matiril, examine the pipe. See if you can find any places where the Zrheli have broken the casing or tampered with the shielding.”

“I’ll do it,” Matiril said.

“You think the Zrheli will help us?” Paket asked her.

She backed her ears. “No. I wish they would, but we can’t count on them. If their plan is similar to ours, it doesn’t matter. We’re going to take it from them and speed it up.”

Several yips of protest broke out. “You don’t expect us to kill ourselves in here with the Zrheli, do you?” Matiril asked in horror.

“No,” Ampris said. “We’re getting out. Count on it.”

Snow blew through the streets of Lazmairehl, whipping around the tall ears of Elrabin and sticking with fluffy whiteness to his coat. He pressed himself deeper into the doorway of the abandoned building, shivering and tucking his hands under his arms to keep them warm.

He was in the Skugvo, the derelict, dangerous side of town where empty buildings made of cheap metal construction stood rusting. Some of them were hardly more than shells, with their walls and roofs stripped away by scavengers. Windows were broken out. Doors hung askew and broken in. The wind blew without ceasing along the empty streets, and now and then a broken piece of dead scrub tumbled by.

The desolate place creeped Elrabin, but he’d learned that the sniffers didn’t patrol the streets in the Skugvo. After narrowly evading capture and arrest several times for stealing food in the main part of town, Elrabin had ducked into this sector to let things calm down. He’d been in Lazmairehl almost three weeks now; winter had definitely set in, with frequent snows and a wind that sawed through him with bitter cold. Food was hard to come by. Worse, he’d had little luck getting past the suspicions of the main band of troublemakers in town.

Abiru thieves and Viis Rejects had joined forces in the recent hard times. Growing constantly bolder as their desperation increased, they now raided the respectable side of town frequently, burning and looting until patrollers drove them back.

Elrabin had sought them out when he’d first slunk into town, footsore and weary to the bone. But they had no interest in helping him rescue an Aaroun female, not even one as famous as Ampris had been. And when Elrabin was forced to admit he didn’t even know for sure if Ampris was still alive, they beat him up and kicked him out. Groaning in the gutter and fending off the Skeks trying to steal his rucksack, Elrabin ended up almost being arrested for vagrancy by a patroller. He got away, but it took considerable dodging to evade pursuit.

Now Elrabin had to subsist on the fringes, avoiding everyone. He was starving, cold, and lonely. A new squad of patrollers had arrived in town this week, supplemented by the imperial army assigned to keep order during the imminent Hevrmasihd Festival, the main winter celebration of the Viis.

Elrabin had been haunting public vids, keeping himself informed about the local news. He eavesdropped and spied, especially around the supply depot, where irregular transports departed with deliveries for Vess Vaas. It was tempting to steal aboard, but he knew he could do nothing to help Ampris by himself. He had to have assistance.

And now he’d returned to Skugvo with an idea and the goal of asking the Rejects one more time for help.

Finally, the hours of watching and shivering in this dank doorway paid off. Just before dusk, Elrabin saw a tall, hooded figure hunched over and hurrying down the empty street. Elrabin’s ears pricked forward. He drew in a deep, intent breath and rubbed his muzzle as he stepped silently out of the doorway and followed.

Deep shadows crisscrossed the streets and pooled around the bases of buildings. The hooded figure was cautious and careful, stopping often to glance back, zigzagging back and forth to avoid the deepest shadows, where ambush might lie in wait. But Elrabin was an expert at following stealthily. He made himself a ghost, silent, able to anticipate when his quarry was going to glance back so that he could duck out of sight.

He followed down numerous, twisting streets, darted along a section of recently burned buildings, where the stink of charred timbers still hung heavy on the air. The snow swirled around him, stinging his face and making his fur wet, but Elrabin grimly refused to give up.

Finally, his quarry ducked down a flight of steps leading into a hole between two buildings. Pausing in the street, Elrabin watched as the hooded figure rapped in code on a door.

It slid open, spilling out a narrow oblong of golden light and warmth before the hooded figure darted inside and the door slammed shut.

Elrabin crept down the steps, finding them crumbly and unstable in the darkness. He waited an interval, feeling his hands and feet turning numb. The snow drifted across the steps behind him, and his breath steamed about his muzzle.

Telling himself to find his courage, Elrabin stepped up to the door and duplicated the pattern of the knock the hooded figure had used.

The door slid open, and a face in shadow peered out at him. Elrabin said nothing, but instead tried to dart inside.

He made it halfway in before a hand gripped his arm like iron and tried to thrust him out.

Swearing, Elrabin ducked his head and bit the wrist, tasting sour Viis blood. The door guard hissed and reached back to draw a weapon, but Elrabin ducked and tumbled himself across the floor to take cover behind a stack of kegs.

“Hold on!” he cried as the other occupants in the room dropped what they were doing and rose to their feet. “I’m a friend, a friend! Remember me? Elrabin? I came to you before—”

“Yeah, and we beat you for your trouble,” replied a hoarse, gravelly voice.

Looking across the room, Elrabin got a swift impression of rough-hewn timbers supporting the low ceiling, a scattering of tables and chairs, a roaring fire in a crudely made hearth that gave out welcome heat and light, the smell of food on platters, and about fifty abiru and Rejects gathered before him with crudely made daggers and stolen side arms glinting in their hands.

A low whine grew in his throat. Elrabin swallowed hard, then panted. Slowly, making no sudden moves, he rose from his hiding place behind the kegs, keeping his hands up and in plain sight.

“I’m a friend,” he said, his voice shrill with fear. “I come to offer a deal.”

The Reject who led the band was a tall, yellow-skinned Viis with webbed fingers and a rill that lay too flat on his neck. Named Sollusk, he was mean, unpredictable, and hostile.

Shooting Elrabin a look of contempt, he drew his hand swiftly across his throat.

A pair of Kelths streaked toward Elrabin. Yelping, he ducked to one side and ran toward Sollusk. The Reject drew his side arm and aimed it at Elrabin. Horrified, he skidded to a halt, and the Kelths grabbed him.

“A deal! I offer you a deal!” Elrabin said desperately.

Sollusk flicked out his tongue. “Your deals do not interest me, furred one. I care nothing about your friend.”

“What about loot?” Elrabin asked, yelping as his arm was twisted behind him. “What about chemicals to sell on the black market, food, equipment—”

“You have nothing,” Sollusk said in contempt. “You have none of these things.”

“The Festival be coming, see?” Elrabin said hurriedly, watching the minute leap of interest in Sollusk’s eyes. “Everyone at Vess Vaas will be gone on leave. The lab will be empty. It’s gotta be a perfect time to break in, see?”

“Lies,” Sollusk said. “Still trying to rescue your friend.”

“Hey, this is a deal for me, and a deal for you,” Elrabin said. “Yeah, okay, I want to get her out. Something wrong with that? Why should you care, as long as you get to loot the whole place, see? No one there—”

“Shields,” Sollusk said. “Locks. Security systems. Guards.”

“The guards are abiru,” Elrabin said. “I walked out there last week and looked the place over. Not as secure as advertised. A snap to get in.”

Laughter broke out among the thieves.

“Like you know,” Sollusk said.

Elrabin lost his temper. He glared at the Reject with his teeth bared. “Like why shouldn’t I know? Like I didn’t used to be a thief myself in the Vir ghetto? Like I didn’t live ten years without a registration implant, coming and going where I pleased, working the street? Like I didn’t run dust? Or operate gaming tables? Or smuggle? Or work scams on Viis marks up on Shrazhak Ohr? Like I ain’t been around, on this world and a dozen others? Where you been, besides small-time, one-town trouble? What do you know to make you laugh at me?”

The room fell deathly quiet. Glaring, Sollusk pointed his side arm right at Elrabin’s face.

“You so smart,” the Reject said, “how come you’re here, wanting my help? Why don’t you go break in Vess Vaas all by yourself?”

Defeat burned inside Elrabin. It took all he had to swallow it, to accept it. He didn’t beg. His pride hurt too much for that. “Sure,” he said, swiveling his ears. “Guess you too busy to go out and take easy pickings. So I’ll go alone. So thanks for nothing.”

He tried to twist free of the Kelths and go, but they held him fast. Elrabin snapped at them, nipping an ear and getting himself knocked against the head.

His hearing rang, and everything swam around him momentarily. When his senses cleared, he found himself flat on the dirty floor with someone’s foot planted in the center of his back.

“Good idea you brought me,” Sollusk said. “Maybe I’ll use it. Maybe I won’t. Either way, we don’t need you.”

Elrabin panted, too angry to be afraid now. “Yeah, you do. ’Cause I can pick the locks and run you past the security slick, see? Otherwise, you going to have an automatic alarm bringing out the army.”

Sollusk said nothing, but finally the foot came off Elrabin’s back, letting him up.

He scrambled to his feet, dusting off his coat. “So what’s it to be? We got a deal?”

Sollusk flicked out his tongue. “Deal,” he said without enthusiasm. “But hear this. If we don’t get in or there’s nothing out there worth our trouble, then your hide, furred one, will make me a winter coat.”

Elrabin’s ears swiveled, and fresh doubts filled him. He was gambling plenty on the unknown, all right, but as he’d once told Ampris, the risk made the gamble worthwhile. Now he was about to put that to the test.

Masking his fear, he met Sollusk’s cold Viis eyes and drew a deep breath. “So let’s get to it,” he said.

CHAPTER
•EIGHTEEN

Ampris moved slowly along the corridor outside the offices, making steady swaths with the floor polisher. Its engine hummed loudly, clanking each time she made the return sweep. On the opposite side of the corridor, a trio of techs emerged from their offices, talking about their Festival plans. As Ampris had guessed, the whole staff had been given leave to spend Festival in Lazmairehl or elsewhere, if they could afford shuttle travel to one of the larger cities. All experiments had been suspended, and Ehssk had already departed the facility earlier that day, bound for parties with the noble and influential in Vir.

While Ampris regretted his departure, for it meant she would not get the chance to sink her teeth into his throat, she put her own desire for revenge aside for the larger good. Besides, ripping out the throat of one evil Viis was less of a blow than destroying the premier research lab on Viisymel. All of Ehssk’s work—his notes, the records of years of research—would be wiped away. And someday, if Fate was kind, she would once again meet him face-to-face to kill the murderer of her daughter.

She bared her teeth, growling softly to herself, and made her way toward the end of the corridor, unnoticed by the techs who casually tapped security codes on the keypads of their office doors and walked away. Ampris pretended to keep her attention on her work, but from the corner of her eye she saw that they used minimal security codes only. The full security required tapping in eighteen numbers, but it was considered too much bother by everyone on the staff except Ehssk himself.

Ampris went on sweeping the polisher back and forth, moving slowly and steadily. By the time the techs were out of sight, she had reached the far end of the office corridor. She stopped outside the door to a small janitor closet. Matiril had promised to pick the lock to it earlier during his chores. They knew none of the Viis ever bothered to check it. Niruo was unlikely to come this way, since his presence in the office area was frowned on by the Viis staff.