Kill Shot: A Remnant of the Commonwealth, Book Two (21 page)

Chapter 27

The office complex that Thomas had given directions to sat between two large warehouses. Probably the warehouses had been managed out of the office complex, but that had been a long time ago. Both warehouses were locked up and weeds grew all along the edges; they had been deserted for some time.

The office complex didn’t look much better. The small surrounding yard was overgrown and the roof
showed signs of old damage that no one had bothered to repair. It had the look of a place long forgotten.

Most of the buildings in the surrounding blocks appeared t
o be in as bad a shape. The TF Federation was doing good economically, but even in good times people lose and businesses go under. This whole area appeared to have suffered.

Aaron stopped a block away and observed the building. It was two stories and was bigger than he had expected. He hoped that he didn’t have to search room by room; that would take all night.

A dual-layer fence separated the building from the street. The bottom layer was stone and it came up to about three feet. The second layer was four-foot metal stakes that were actually set into the bottom layer of stone. He wasn’t worried about getting through the fence, though. Here and there sections of the fence had been broken; one section looked like a transport had been drive into it and the wall had fallen over. No, getting in wouldn’t be the problem; it was the getting out that Aaron was worried about.

He had stopped a block away because he was worried about that telepath sensing him. This area was deserted and the street probably didn’t have many pedestrians. If she sensed him, they would at least check i
t out, and he didn’t like three-against-one odds. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. He didn’t mind taking on the three, as long as it was one at a time and not three opponents at the same time.

He sighed, his mouth suddenly going dry. The moment was here and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to do it again. The thought of the computer being in control and keeping him locked away scared the shit out of him.

The wind picked up, blowing his hair into new and exotic shapes, and still Aaron stood there, silent and unmoving in the midst of the tempest.

There were several thoughts that really terrified him. The
most worrisome was that the computer would take control and not give it back. Aaron was quite sure he would go mad if he was locked away in the dark of his thoughts forever. He couldn’t imagine a worse torture than to spend years locked in his own mind—not eating, speaking, or even seeing what was going on around him. He was trying to remain optimistic, though; the computer had been in control once, and it had released him after completing its task. There was no guarantee that the computer would do as he ordered a second time.

The second thing that was bothering Aaron was the possibility that giving control to the
computer could cause, or speed up, his possible descent into madness. There were problems with this worry, too. The cyborgs that had gone insane in the past had been different. The doctors had tried cutting on their brains and attaching computer probes and such; that most certainly had not been done in Aaron’s case. He continued to hope that Susan was right, that he was something new and different, and might never go mad at all.

Strangely, thinking of Susan was comforting to him. He had asked
her to use her telepathic abilities to keep an eye on him, to watch him and make sure he didn’t go insane. He found himself desperately wishing she was here now. As soon as that thought occurred to him, he frowned as an emotion ran through his body—shame. He felt shame, or perhaps just embarrassment at the thought of Susan knowing what he was doing and just how fucked up he really was. He had been her commanding officer and it just seemed wrong to lean so heavily on her, to need her so much. He might have been her commanding officer once, and he guessed he still was, as he was the Captain of the
Long Shot,
but he also was her friend.

Aaron shook his head, realizing he was just delaying. He took a deep breath and pushed the fear away. It was still there, like a constant presence just out of reach, but Aaron chose to ignore it.

Aaron breathed deeply, trying to get his thoughts straight. After a moment he began.

Enter the building and rescue Eric,
he thought, trying to place restrictions on his computerized alter ego. He wanted to enumerate each and every objective, but he had to be careful. He couldn’t just say kill the three remaining soldiers, as that might cause the computer to seek out those three people. If, by some miracle, he was able to get into the building and then get out again with Eric, and not cross any of the three soldier’s paths, that would please him to no end.
Eric is the primary goal,
he thought,
get him out of there!
He paused, trying to get the thoughts just right.
Kill any or all of the soldiers, but only as needed. Kill them if you encounter them, but don’t seek them out. Once we’re out of the building, then return control to me!
He paused and then repeated that last thought again; he wanted to make damn sure that there wasn’t any chance of a misunderstanding. He ran through it again from the beginning, mainly for his own benefit as he verified that he hadn’t missed anything.

Somewhat satisfied, Aaron took a deep breath. The fear was still hanging around, threatening to come roaring back at him. His stomach felt tight and Aaron feared he might piss himself. He hadn’t been this scared since his first battle as a soldier, and then he
’d only been worried about dying. That seemed so long ago.

Goose pimples broke out along his arms and legs again, but Aaron barely even noticed.

“Take control, now,” he whispered.

Several moments later, Aaron ran from the warehouse shadow where he had been observing the office complex. He ran hunched over, hurrying across the street and into the shadows of a second warehouse. He paused and listened for any sound of alarm, but there wasn’t any; no alarm klaxons or running footsteps. The only sound was the blowing of the wind.

A minute passed and then Aaron began creeping along the warehouses and buildings that separated him from his target. He was on the same side of the street now, and that should help hide him, but still h
e hurried from shadow to shadow, hiding behind bushes and any abandoned equipment.

His movement
s were smoother than they had been in the hotel room, still stiff, but not so herky-jerky anymore.

Aaron rushed from hiding place to hiding place, but he paused at each one and listened. It took him just over five minutes to make the one-block trip. He crossed the last exposed section of sidewalk and dove down in the shadow of the building’s fence. Just in front of him was the damaged strip of fence where it looked like a transport had been driven through.

Aaron inched his way forward and looked around the broken bottom of the fence. The building was dark, with no signs of any recent visitation.

The building was not rectangular, but had sections that pulled in, while other areas jutted out. It was an unusual shape
, and it created alcoves and nooks all along the front of the building. The alcoves had been planted with flowering bushes back when the business was thriving, but now the bushes were overgrown, many of them reaching higher than the roof.

Concrete benches and tables were scattered around. Most likely they had
been intended for the employees’ use, but most of them were broken now.

Aaron finished his survey of the yard and then, without hesitation, he popped up and ran across the yard all hunched over.

He reached the safety of the building’s wall and stood there with his head tilted, trying to sense any change. Nothing. Not a sound, nor a light. No signs that anyone knew he was here.

Aaron drew the Horace from its
holster and moved to his right toward the nearest window. A towering tree stood several feet away from the wall, and Aaron stood in its shadow. He edged up to the window and carefully peeked around the side. The room beyond was trashed. Some old pieces of furniture lay on their sides and the walls had been covered in graffiti. The worst damage had been caused when one of the tree’s limbs had broken and fallen on the roof. Fallen through the roof was actually a more correct description. The limb had broken the roof, creating a large hole and opening the room up to the elements. Although the building was two stories, the front of the building was only one story; the back half must have been added on.

Aaron reached forward with his right hand, intending to use the butt of his pistol to crack the bottom pane of glass, but he hesitated. There was a small
, black object attached to the bottom of the window on the inside. It was a dull-black color, making it hard to see, and he had nearly missed it. Aaron leaned closer, trying to make it out; it appeared to be some sort of security device.

Aaron lowered the Horace and moved to his right. About ten feet farther on, he encountered a second window. The room beyond was in just as bad a shape as the first room
had been. Of more importance to him was the small, black object attached to the bottom of the window.

Someone had secured the windows on the building. It would make sense that the doors would also be monitored.

There wasn’t any worry or panic in Aaron. The worrying Aaron was not here at the moment; this was a different Aaron. This Aaron looked around coolly, logically. There had to be an unwatched entrance. Aaron looked back the way he had come and his eyes fell on the tree. Slowly Aaron’s eyes rose upward to where the tree limb hung out over the roof, right to the point where the limb had broken.

There wasn’t any hesitation—
Aaron moved forward, stopping beside the tree. He paused only long enough to holster his handgun, and then he looked around, just to verify that he was still undetected. Then he began to climb.

The climb wasn’t difficult. The building had been empty for some time
, and the trees and bushes hadn’t been trimmed in forever. Small shoots provided hand and foot holds, and Aaron quickly reached the large limb that hung out over the roof.

The limb looked unsafe
, and Aaron held onto the trunk of the tree and jumped up and down twice. The limb held. He turned and walked carefully out onto the limb—his balance never wavered.

Aaron
stopped two feet short of where the limb had broken. For one thing, he was afraid the end of the limb might break again. The second consideration was that the part of the roof around the hole might be rotten. He wanted to make sure the roof didn’t collapse under him.

He knelt down and placed both hands on the limb. He turned and slid off, lowering his legs toward the
roof. He couldn’t quite reach—the roof was still a foot or so out of reach, as it was slanted downward away from the hole.

Aaron swung from the limb for a moment as he studied the roof under his feet. It looked okay, but still he continued to look around. There seemed to be cracks in the roofing material
, and it was possible the whole thing would collapse under his weight. After a moment, he noticed the section off to his right appeared more solid; there were less cracks running through it.

His course decided, Aaron began to swing his legs side to side. After the third time, he let go of the limb and dropped to the roof.

There was a dull thud as he landed, and Aaron dropped to his knees. The roof let loose with several ominous creaks, but it held.

He lowered himself down onto his stomach and eased his way forward toward the hole. Reaching it, Aaron peeked down through the hole. When the tree limb had fallen, it had taken out most of the rafters and the supports of the ceiling below. The way was clear. He could drop down without worry of impaling himself.

Aaron backed away slightly and began turning his body. He approached the hole feet-first this time. The roof continued to creak as he moved, but he went slowly. Both to keep the noise to a minimum, and also to give himself time to react if the roof began to collapse.

His feet reached the hole and Aaron continued to ease his way backward. He got his legs in the hole and was continuing to back up. His plan was to hang onto the roof and dangle down into the hole. Then he would try and drop whichever way was safest, hoping to avoid any broken furniture. He never got the opportunity to try his plan. As his legs were in the hole and he was continuing to back up, a foot-long piece of the broken roof collapsed, dropping him into the hole.

As he fell, his left arm snagged on the roof, ripping a long gash across his forearm. He hit the ground hard, his left leg bent at an odd angle by a broken chair.

Aaron lay on the floor for a moment taking stock of his injuries. The cut in the arm was bleeding, but he could bind it and it would be okay for now. Of more immediate importance was the leg. Aaron twisted and straightene
d his left leg. There was pain—bad but not so bad that he couldn’t walk on it. Most likely it was sprained, or perhaps a hairline fracture.

The computerized side of Aaron knew the body needed to heal, needed to rest, but it also knew that there would be plenty of time for that later. The pain was indicative of a problem, but the problem did not require immediate attention.