Contingency Plan Page 5

  Ryder shrugged. “Just curious. Wondering if you lived somewhere like this.”

  Jiang paused, then shook her head. “I don’t think so. I assume I grew up on New Hong Kong, but I never found any record of it. After the war it was nigh impossible to find records of anything that happened on New Hong Kong.”

  “If you had to choose, would you rather live dirtside instead of being a spacer?”

  “Never really thought of it. I like living aboard the Mombasa. It’s home.”

  Ryder wasn’t certain, but he thought her voice cracked on that last word. “Yeah.”

  The buildings were labeled with Cyrillic lettering and Chinese characters, which his HUD automatically translated. Dormitory One, Medical Center, Mess Hall, and so on. Nothing sinister. It was almost disappointing. A lone statue stood vigil in the colony’s center. Most of its features had been eroded, and all that remained was a vague impression of a man with his fist raised toward the heavens in defiance as he stood over a faded hammer and sickle.

  The reactor that had turned traitor was set away from the colony center, and the cooling towers were dwarfed by the surrounding mountains. The towers looked undamaged, but the plant around them was a twisted, blackened mess. Ryder shuddered and was glad that they were moving away from ground zero of the disaster that had doomed Arzamas-16.

  The main entrance to the research labs was locked. It seemed a bit absurd to lock the doors on an abandoned colony. Eventually the Soviets would want to inhabit it again, or send a salvage team if they thought restarting the colony wasn’t worth the money, and new tenants or salvage crews weren’t likely to be issued the key code.

  “Can’t hack it without a power source,” Jiang said. “And I want to save our battery packs for powering up the computers.”

  “You know what would help in this situation?” Ryder asked.

  “A crowbar?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a grenade.”

  “You have grenades?” Jiang asked, then sighed. “Of course you do. How do you want to play this?”

  “Timer. It’ll give us enough time to take cover. Head behind that building.” He pointed at one of the outlying labs. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  A sane person would never pick up another grenade after one blew his arm off, but spacer marines weren’t known for their sanity. They rushed headfirst into battle when other troops hesitated. Ryder had been the munitions specialist on his squad, which had required a special brand of fearlessness. He wasn’t about to let his injury stop him from doing his job, and as the Mombasa’s chief of security he had to be prepared for anything.

  His hand shook a little as he positioned the grenade, set the countdown and synced the timer to his HUD. He chalked the tremors up to adrenaline and a malfunctioning prosthetic. Stupid to arm an explosive with a shaking hand. He hustled away to join Jiang and made another note to worry about it later.

  He stood next to Jiang and counted down the last few seconds. “In three, two, one.”

  The sound of the small explosion was strangely loud, echoing through the valley like a moment from the middle of battle. Ryder tensed as his heart leaped, and he broke out in a cold sweat. He hunched over, hands on his knees, and Jiang crouched beside him.

  “Hey. You’re all right.” Her tone was calm but stern, and Ryder managed a slight smile. She’d make a good captain. He would gladly follow her into hell.

  He breathed deep. “Thanks. Doesn’t hit me as often anymore, but places like this trigger it. Most of the battle I saw was ground combat. Few space stations, and boarded a few ships, but...”

  “Understood. Take a moment to breathe. We have time. We’ll go when you’re ready.”

  Ryder nodded, relieved and grateful. Everyone aboard the Mombasa had been through bad shit during the war, and they leaned on each other for support. Ryder breathed deep and even until the readout of his vitals returned to normal.

  He straightened, reached over and squeezed Jiang’s shoulder. “Thanks. Good to go.”

  “Aye, Chief. I’ll take point.”

  “I’ve got your six, boss.”

  The grenade had mangled the security door, and Jiang pulled the debris out of the way. Their headlamps dimly illuminated the pitch-black hallway—no power, no windows, just smothering darkness. Not the best environment to dive into after narrowly avoiding an anxiety attack, but he followed Jiang without hesitation.

  His helmet’s camera switched to infrared, bathing the view in eerie shades of green and gray. “How do you want to play this?”

  “Get a layout of the lab first,” Jiang said. “See if there’s any signage indicating researchers’ workstations. Or the director’s office.”

  “Look for the biggest desk, got it.”

  Jiang chuckled, and it eased some of the tension pinching Ryder’s shoulders. Maybe the silence put him on edge. On a ship you knew you were proper fucked when things were this quiet, because silence meant a complete power failure. Though in general things had been fucked up since Erik died. It made sense that he wouldn’t be operating at one hundred percent, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

  They searched left to right, moving through rooms of equipment that he couldn’t begin to identify.

  “You have any idea what this stuff is?” he asked.

  “Not a clue. Maria might know.”

  Good. That meant she was willing to ask Chief Watson for further help. Progress.

  They covered ground slowly, because it took time to manually open each door. At least it wasn’t a high security facility—it would be a nightmare if they had to blow every door open. They moved from the main module to a connected building, some sort of storage facility that had been emptied. Ryder scuffed the sole of his armored boot across the concrete floor and wondered what they had kept here. Something valuable enough to evacuate with the researchers.

  “Nothing,” Jiang said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  They returned to the main building for another slow-going search, and when they reached the main hall an alert pinged in Ryder’s HUD.

  “Hold up,” he said. “My stash sweeper picked up something.”

  “I didn’t know you were running it.”

  “Maria built it into my suit. It’s always running.”

  The stash sweeper program used his suit’s external sensors to search for hidden compartments on a job. Smugglers hid their best stuff behind false panels, and even straight transport ships often had contraband stashed away. They’d found countless bottles of vodka that way.

  “There’s something under us,” he said.

  “There shouldn’t be. It would be a bitch to carve into this rock. They wouldn’t waste resources on excavating it.”

  “Unless they wanted to hide something. A top secret research facility. We might’ve hit the jackpot!”

  Jiang snorted in a burst of comm static. “Or they built a bunker to take shelter in if the Alliance came calling. Or pirates.”

  “Or mutated space aliens.”

  “No one expects mutated space alien pirates,” she deadpanned. “Let’s map it. Might lead us to the way in.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  “You’re going to keep calling me boss, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. My other option was to call you Mistress, but that seemed unprofessional. And I’d have to tell you my safe word. Do you want to know my safe word?”

  “Not while we’re on the clock, Kalani.”

  “So later, then?”

  “Focus.”

  “Yes, boss.”

  Jiang sighed but chuckled, and Ryder felt as though he’d won that discussion.

  They followed the tunnel through the main building and into a storage room in the third module. The room looked complet
ely harmless—cleaning supplies, a collection of sad, abandoned mops and brooms—but dust had settled into a seam in the floor, revealing a secret door. After much poking and prodding they found the release that opened it. A set of stairs was carved into the rock, and it led down into mysterious darkness.

  “That looks ominous,” he said.

  Jiang nodded. “Very medieval.”

  “Do Soviet facilities usually come equipped with a dungeon?”

  “It could just be a storm cellar. Maybe this planet has unusual weather patterns.”

  “Pretty sure that storm cellars don’t need hidden doors, but if you say so. I’ll take point.”

  “Negative. I’ll take point. It’s easier for you to shoot over me than it is for me to try to fire around you. Just don’t check out my ass on the way down.”

  Ryder grinned, the expression hidden behind his visor. “I check your ass out all the time. A thing of beauty is a joy forever.”

  Jiang laughed, though the sound was dulled by the comm. Damn. He would’ve given anything to see her face right now. “I can’t argue. I check your ass out, too. Really it’d be a crime not to.”

  “Thanks, boss.”

  Ryder followed her down the stairs and an uneasy feeling settled in his gut. This was uncharted territory—he was used to finding secret compartments on Soviet ships, but a staircase to hell was a new one. He swallowed a laugh. Sure, he’d said he’d follow Jiang to hell and back, but he didn’t mean it literally.

  The stairs continued downward, and the sensors in his armor began to malfunction. Interference from the surrounding rock. It would mess with their comms, too, not that they had anyone to call. Ryder swallowed—if something bad happened, like a tunnel collapse, they had no way to call for help. No one would know what happened to them. He shook that thought away, because the Mombasa’s crew knew they were here. The captain would come after them, and at least ensure that they had a proper burial.

  With that last morbid thought lodged in his mind like a bullet they reached the end of the line. A metal security door was set into the rock wall in front of them, an access panel to the right. Ryder stepped forward to examine the door for weak points, and the screen glowed to life, momentarily blinding their helmets’ night vision.

  “Whoa. The power should be dead,” he said. “The reactor’s definitely offline.”

  Jiang nodded. “Could be an independent power source, like a battery. Or a separate source, like geothermal power.”

  “Okay. But why?”

  “My guess is to run a separate facility. The question is, did they abandon that, too?”

  Ryder frowned, reaching in reflex to stroke his beard and cursing softly when his gauntlet clunked into his helmet. “They didn’t fake the meltdown. Those radiation levels are legit.”

  “True.” Jiang stepped up to the access panel and tapped it gently. Green font appeared on the screen. Ryder’s HUD translated it.

  PLEASE PRESENT PALM FOR IDENTIFICATION SCAN.

  “Maybe we can hack it,” Ryder said. “My tablet has a bunch of Maria’s favorite programs.”

  Jiang felt around the edges of the screen. “It’s flush with the wall, no way to pop it. Can your tablet access it without a physical connection?”

  “One way to find out.” Ryder grabbed the tablet from its holster in his equipment belt, and nearly dropped it as his numb fingers fumbled to hold it. “Shit!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m green. I’m calling up the program suite now.” The tablet tried to handshake with the access panel, but nothing happened. “No good. It won’t accept remote commands.”

  “Was worth a try.” Jiang’s sigh hissed over the comm. “No explosives with this door. We’d bury ourselves.”

  “Right.”

  “We could head back to the shuttle and call the Mombasa. Chief Watson would know what to do, but it’ll take time for them to get here.”

  “More dance lessons?” Ryder mimicked a quick salsa.

  “Not while we’re on the clock. I have an idea. You won’t like it.”

  “Oh?”

  Before he could continue, Jiang unsealed her right gauntlet, removed it and pressed her palm against the scanner.

  “Damn it, Jiang! We’re still hot. You’re exposed to the radiation!”

  She shoved her glove back on. “Brief exposure. We can treat it back on the ship.”

  “We’re running out of spare hands, you know.”

  The screen flashed green and then spit out another line of text.

  ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME, AGENT KWAN.

  The security door slid open and spilled soft light into the tunnel.

  Well, shit.

  * * *

  Jiang stared in horror at the screen, her focus glued to the text. Agent Kwan. She braced herself, expecting a wave of memories to surface and swamp her like a tidal wave...

  Nothing. Not even the slightest twinge of recognition. The access panel knew more about her than she did. She slowly exhaled the breath she’d been holding and forced herself to relax—it felt as though her entire body was a muscle that had been paralyzed when she placed her palm against the scanner, and now she had to learn to move again. She couldn’t freeze up now. Later, back on the ship, she could have a proper meltdown. Not here.

  Jiang swallowed hard and cleared her throat. She could do this. If she wanted answers there was only one way to go—forward.

  The door slid open and she flinched, but no bogeyman from her past jumped out. Instead, it revealed a lift, patiently waiting for them to enter.

  Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

  “That’s a terrible spy name,” Ryder said. “I was hoping for something more Agent Eighty-Six. Your catchphrase could be ‘I’m gonna eighty-six these guys.’”

  “What?” She blinked at him, still numb with shock and confusion.

  “Geez, boss. You really have zero knowledge of Earther culture. When we get home I’m going to show you some old mobster vids.”

  Home. Right. The Mombasa was home, the crew was her family. If she wanted to go home again, she needed to find out where this lift went.

  “Before or after dance lessons?” she asked.

  “Dinner, a movie and dancing. Sounds like a date.”

  Jiang pictured his wide grin and stepped into the lift. “I don’t date crew members.”

  Ryder stood beside her as the doors closed. “Technically I’m not a crew member at the moment. I’m your henchman. I serve at the pleasure of my boss.”

  Damn it. She did not need that distraction. Her heart was already racing without the added inspiration of fantasizing about Ryder. She licked her lips and focused. The lift dropped, and then moved sideways. “I think we’re headed toward the mountains.”

  Ryder nodded. “Makes sense. They’d naturally shield whatever they’re hiding from any nosy bastards in orbit.”

  “Right. Ryder, if I...if I start acting strange, like I’m not me...”

  “I’ll try to stun you, but we both know you’d kick my ass in a hand-to-hand fight. Again.”

  “Gotta move faster, Chief.” A fraction of her tension eased—she trusted Ryder with her life, and had for years now. It was his job to keep the Mombasa and its crew safe. He’d keep her safe, even if that meant keeping her safe from herself. “Ready weapons. They could have security drones.”

  Ryder drew his pistol and held it ready. “Target practice. My favorite. You still owe me ten creds, by the way.”

  “I know. I’m still not sure how you hit that bull’s-eye. I think you cheated.”

  “Nope. I’m just that good.”

  Jiang heard the grin in his voice. She didn’t doubt that.

  The lift doors opened and they exited with smooth precision, sweeping the a
rea for potential threats. It was clear—literally. Glass walls divided the work areas. Office spaces with empty desks, research labs with expensive equipment of indeterminate purpose. The overhead lights illuminated the area around them, but the rest was shrouded in darkness.

  “Why glass?” Ryder asked. “It’s like an empty aquarium.”

  “It’s designed that way. Makes it impossible to hide anything. Everyone can see what you’re doing, and surveillance monitors your every movement.”

  “Creepy.”

  “The Party requires complete control of its facilities. To ensure that everyone is working toward the common good.”

  “Like I said. Creepy. I’d hate to think of the shit the captain would see if she watched me all the time.” Ryder lowered his weapon but kept it at the ready. “I’ve got your six.”

  Jiang nodded. “We’ll start with a perimeter sweep, just like upstairs. Get an idea of who sat where and who worked on what project.”

  “Still have no idea what any of this shit does.”

  “Me either, but we’re recording.”

  “Too bad we can’t live broadcast it. Too much interference.”

  “Too dangerous. Our signal would get picked up by a listening station and reveal our location.” Jiang walked forward and the glass doors slid apart, opening to a long hallway. The walls were etched with signage, though none of it was terribly helpful. Just once she wanted someone to properly label their shit. Evil Scientist Office One, or Doomsday Weapon Lab Two. It would make life much simpler.

  “Correction,” Ryder said. “This is super creepy. No dust. Looks like they just left a few minutes ago instead of years.”

  He nudged a ceramic coffee cup with the barrel of his gun. Jiang half expected to see liquid slosh over the side, but it was empty. The contents had evaporated long ago. Ryder nudged it again and the mug toppled over the side and shattered on the spotless tile floor.

  “Oops,” he said.

  “I’m taking that out of your paycheck.”

  “I’m getting paid for this? Bonus.”

  “Brat. The independent power system must’ve kept the environmental controls running. That way everything’s nice and clean until they return.”