Lapis peeked around the edge of the grateless culvert; darkness met her eyes. Patch mimicked her on the opposite side, his patch whirling, then jerked his head; she entered, unclipped the tech light hanging from her pack, and turned it on. Ice coated the black streaks that dribbled down the grooved metal, and the ground held frozen mud and puddles, all with imprints of thick-soled boots heading away from the base. Judging from the length between steps and the depth of the prints, the individuals ran rather than walked, and must have done so during the day, before the mud froze solid. Interesting.
Brander clicked his light, moving the beam across the walls. Lapis did not see wires or techy objects that would trigger traps or security measures. Considering the culvert led straight into the base, she found the lack of precautions odd.
“There is nothing here,” Chiddle confirmed. She nodded and took the lead, straining to detect anything in front of them. The khentauree followed, his hooves clacking on the ice.
The running footprints nagged at her. Had the Drakes taken this route as an exit? Why? The entrances seemed plenty open. Had the ‘shroud sent Swifts ahead, and the soldiers took exception to Drakeways presence? That made sense, but why had they not lit the docking tower? Had they gotten rid of the shanks first, then prepared for the ‘shroud?
That did not explain the lack of light. Military arriving in the dead of night would need illumination to navigate an unfamiliar base.
The culvert curved once before ending. Pale blue snow shimmered brighter than the dark buildings surrounding it, but did not reflect enough light from the stars and moon for clear viewing. Lapis crouched, Chiddle slowed, and she padded softly to the open exit.
She hunkered down and listened. Nothing reached her. She studied the area, then visually trailed the boot prints to a short alley between two squat buildings. Darkness filled the space beyond.
“No one is near,” Chiddle said, his tone low and without a buzz. “But there is something interfering with our wider scans.”
“Can you contact the other khentauree?”
“Tuft fights for a link, but the connection is fuzzy and weak.”
No good. “Will it interfere with our comms?” Not that she had much luck using the devices, but it made her feel safer to know she could call for help.
“Yes.”
Patch slipped to her side, his crossbow out and loaded, and pressed his fingers into his patch. “Sils?”
“Scan’s flaky,” the modder said. “This interference wasn’t here when Jhor and I came, and my birds didn’t pick it up during the flyovers.” He crept to the opening and held the book-sized screen beyond the metal; the static did not improve. “We need to be cautious. Either Drakeways left something nasty behind because they’re assholes, or the lead commander wants to keep everything between his ship and Torc Bedan hush hush.”
“If the military’s here, where are the patrols?” Lapis asked. “We didn’t see any signs of guards when we looked, and no Swift landed while we headed for the culvert.”
“I’m betting they don’t have the manpower,” Sils said. “While Drakeways is a threat, Trave needs soldiers to help with rescue efforts and crowd control more. If the residents think the government knew about the ships running low on juice and took the chance they wouldn’t go down in the middle of the city, there’s going to be riots.” He huffed on laughter. “And since the ‘shroud cratered the neighborhoods of wealthy businesspeople instead of slums, they’re going to be dealing with a lot of very pissed, influential people.”
Linz chuckled, their sarcasm echoing off the walls. “You could say that. I wouldn’t put it past a few prominent individuals vying for Council positions to use this incident as a political hammer against their rivals. They won’t care if they inspire scared people to riot, as long as it gets them a seat.”
Patch paused a moment longer. “Let’s go. Keep to the shadows, stay alert.”
As if he had to caution them.
They hustled through the open space between the backs of the buildings and the wall, reaching a paved road coated in frozen slush without fuss. The squat structures lining the way were dark, and the sense of vacant filled the area.
The rattle of wind through a loose something or other, the crunch of their boots and hooves, the faint groan of protesting buildings, put Lapis more on edge. She fought to hear something beyond the environmental sounds; humans talking, the barking of orders, the hum of tech lights, the crackle of tires crushing frozen soil. Nothing. She looked up at the dark tower, and her unease grew into apprehension.
Sils squatted down on the walk and peered towards the intersection using his seefar. “I see trampled snow and tire tracks, but no vehicles, Drakeways or military. Chiddle, Tuft, any luck with the khentauree?”
“The signals are stronger, but not by much,” Tuft buzzed. “They say they are below ground, in a room with experimental equipment, but I cannot understand more than that.”
“Sounds like the research building,” Patch said. “Let’s go.”
They crept to the intersection, fighting for footing on the slick sidewalk, then crunched across the frozen, clumpy street to two small wooden buildings. Patch motioned to them, and they scampered down the alley, across another street, and to an arched metal structure that filled half the block. Her partner smashed against the wall, and they all rushed to hunch down near him.
“Stay here,” he breathed before edging around the corner, heading for the next roadway. Brander and Linz raised their tech weapons, Chiddle and Tuft stilled, and Lapis tried to suppress all the nasty ways this mission could go wrong.
Her partner returned, grim.
“Swift’s in the hangar,” he told them. “Only one, though, and no one’s around to guard it. All the lights are off except the ones at the research facility entrance, so it’s a good bet that’s where they are.”
Stars’ ill luck followed them from the Shivers.
“Jhor and I took a back way in,” Sils said.
“Take lead and get us there.”
They kept to the shadows of the metal building, walking in the gap between hardened snowbank and the wall. Sils peeked around the northern corner when they reached it, then led them to the backside of a slanted shack with no windows and huge gaps between the greying boards. Faint yellow glowed at its front, coming from the concrete structure sitting across the shoveled walkway. The modder took one step, then stopped, stooped, and waved at them to crouch. They plastered themselves against the creaky wood as he peered around the corner. He turned and put a finger to his lips.
“I don’t know!” someone yelled. Lapis started, and Patch laid a hand on her back. “The lights aren’t coming on, the dock isn’t responding, this is the only channel working.” The last word dimmed, as if the man pivoted abruptly away.
Pops and crackles as loud as the yelling overrode the man, and he sucked in a breath as grainy words issued from whatever device he used. Lapis understood none of it; too distant, with too much static.
“You tell me. You tell me why our codes don’t work. You tell me how some bitty shanks somehow used this base without anyone at the Leads knowing, Lead Commander.”
Bitty shanks? Lapis met Linz’s eye, and they shared a mental laugh. Patch eyed them both, and they smashed their lips together and looked down.
More pops and crackles, with an added buzz.
“Then you should have sent more techs!” His yell cracked, and she could not tell if seething anger or the need to be understood over a bad connection prompted it. “You think five men are up to activating a dock that hasn’t worked in fifty years? The last line in the log said it malfunctioned, and there’s no indication it was ever fixed. You might as well ditch the ‘shroud in a field, because docking isn’t happening.”
More static.
“I know what the Fore Commander said. Why does he think an abandoned base is going to work as soon as he says switch on the lights? Is he even still alive to ask? Because MY FAMILY ISN’T! You think we don’t know the Leads base was destroyed? We saw the news reports! The footage! We—”
Lapis squeezed her eyes shut on the agonized screaming. She heard scuffling sounds and a gruff growl.
“Walk it off,” another man commanded. With a hitch of breath, the first stomped away.
They sent a grieving man to resurrect this defunct place. Hate swirled. Not that she had much sympathy for a military man, but to lose his family, and have his superiors expect him to continue as if that meant nothing . . .
“I don’t have the authority to demote him, Lead Commander,” the second man said in a calmer, though no less strained, yell. Crunchy footsteps neared. Lapis stiffened, holding her breath, her fingers curling so she could trigger her right blade if she had to. “He’s a member of the Frontline techs, so a written complaint needs to go to Dr. Calerway.” Fuzzy static screeched, then softened as the footsteps receded. “It would carry more weight if you sent it, Lead Commander.” The voice faded, becoming a faint murmur.
Smothering her loathing for the callous Lead Commander took more effort than Lapis admitted.
Sils peered around the corner, then raised his seefar. He scanned the side of the building, pointed at Brander, then himself, and waved for the rest of them to remain in place. The two hustled down the walkway and headed for a metal awning halfway between the front and the back.
She would have expected a tech door, but Brander popped the lock before she took five breaths. Sils motioned frantically, and with a glance at the illuminated front, they streaked to him and slipped inside.
Tiny aisles lined by open-faced shelving filled the musty space, a scattering of crumpled cardboard boxes lying on them and on the floor. The doorway leading to the rest of the building stood open, but the pale light filtering through it did not reach past the first shelves. Patch crept to the door, glanced about, and slowly closed the portal. After hearing the lock click, they joined him.
“Drakeways must not respect their shanks’ tech ability,” Sils said. “These doors should have a passcode screen for entry. Instead, they tore them out and opted for a key.” He pointed at a shoulder-height, rectangular, white plaster coat marring the dull grey concrete.
“Let’s hope the Drakes secured everything in the same way.” Patch tapped his knuckle softly against the dented metal door. “So five techs are here, probably armed and not in good frames of mind. They’re having issues, and it’s doubtful they can get this place functioning by the time the ‘shroud shows up. I doubt we'll encounter them. Tuft, can you make out anything more from the khentauree?”
“It is fragmented, but I do not think these men have discovered them.”
“Good. Do they know what happened to Fraze?”
Tuft stilled, then shook his head. “There are words, but I cannot parse.”
“I wonder if the interference is a security feature they tripped while they were trying to get the dock up,” Sils said. “Techs on skyshrouds don’t have much knowledge beyond what they’re required to do for their job. That’s on purpose, so I can see them getting into trouble with old consoles and programs that aren’t familiar.”
Lapis had a brief longing for Jhor’s help; he never appeared to have trouble, no matter the age of the tech.
Patch nodded. “We have two targets, then. Tuft, can you lead a group to the khentauree?”
“Yes.”
“OK. Sils, Lanth, Brander, go with him and find the khentauree. Linz, Chiddle and I will take a peek up here, see if we can find any hint as to what happened to Fraze. Comms through Chiddle and Tuft only. Don’t be shy about using the distress signals. Meet back here in an hour. We want to be out before the ‘shroud arrives.”
Not a lot of time, but hopefully enough.
