It didn’t rain much in the region Routh was a part of. But when it did on those rare occasions, it was as if a higher being had pulled out a stopper in the sky, releasing a century’s worth of pent up moisture.
Hooper stood in the port, oblivious to the cascading downfall that battered against his face and body like liquid lashes. If he felt any discomfort at all, the iron bound hand of purpose, augmented by imperturbable focus, muted it. Nothing was going to sway him from cracking the secrets of the SD suit in his possession. Neither man nor whatever the elements threw at him.
A Jumper-class sleeper ship descended from the rain-sodden heavens, touching down gently on a landing platform. Engines powered down, side door shuddered open, steps protruded and a half dozen passengers draped in water repellant hooded parkas debarked.
The engineers. The best armor specialists his money could buy and Hooper welcomed them with open arms literally and figuratively.
Dern moved openly down the settlement’s main avenue. The rain had diminished to a light drizzle and previously sheltered residents returned to the street to engage in their normal routines. The upsurge in activity increased Dern’s cover. At least for now. There would be no more anonymity once the alarm was raised about the guard he over powered and incapacitated. Of course Dern planned on having freed Alita and her crewmates by the time the guard regained consciousness. If he were lucky, they’d all be long gone from this place.
He stopped and surveyed a row of ramshackle structures on the other side of the street until his gaze settled on the tallest, widest building. Resembling a giant rusty lockbox, the building had no windows. The front entrance looked tight enough to give the place a hermetically sealed appearance. Dern had no doubt this was the detention facility the guard so cooperatively described. He briskly crossed the street, slipping into a narrow gap separating the facility from a closely spaced neighboring building. Taking a rearward peek, Dern saw that he hadn’t drawn any attention. At least he hoped he hadn’t. And if he did, he gambled on the denizens in this rogue’s paradise being more concerned with minding their own business.
There was a lot at the back of the building filled with terrain vehicles of various sizes, including three TVVs. He rounded the corner of the building and scurried toward its single back entrance. Pressing an access panel next to the door he darted inside. A shadowed corridor greeted him. He rushed to the end until he came upon a stairwell leading to a lower level. The isolation wing. That was where Alita and the crew were being held according to the guard. Fear of being killed had the effect of turning the most heartless scoundrels into paragons of honesty.
Dern harbored not a shred of doubt about the guard’s truthfulness.
The wing was a modest size space, accommodating a dozen or so cells. A glass enclosed security booth blocked an entryway that fanned out into a wider area. Through slightly tinted glass Dern glimpsed a seated guard facing the cell doors.
At this point Dern opted to forego stealth in favor of what the ancients called shock and awe. He sprinted toward the booth and leapt, bursting through an inch of reinforced glass. An explosion of glass fragments cascaded over the guard. Dern landed on his feet, delivering a hammer blow fore arm to the guard’s temple before the latter could react. The man crumpled into a dreamless slumber.
Dern quickly examined the circular console where the guard was sitting. Amid a simple arrangement of switches and buttons it wasn’t hard for him to determine the cell door controls. He flicked ten switches corresponding to the number of cells in the area and received a responding series of clacks. The cell doors automatically swung open.
“Everybody out!” Dern shouted as he emerged from the booth.
Heads tentatively peeked out of the cells, one of them belonging to Alita. She stared at the former SD soldier as if he were more illusion than real.
“Come on!” Dern urged.
Seconds later he was leading his fellow captives through the passage back to the outside.
“What now?” The captain asked warily.
Dern paused, at a momentary loss. A well thought out plan, combined with a healthy dose of luck had gotten him this far. Now, he needed to add a dollop of improvisation to the mix.
“I appreciate you freeing us,” Alita said, resignation sinking into her expression. “But it looks like we’ve reached a dead end.” She lowered to her haunches, drained. “A dead fucking end.”
Dern surveyed the ground vehicles parked nearby. An idea seized him. He gave Alita a reassuring pat on the arm. “We’re not down, yet. Follow me.” He walked toward the vehicles.
Seeing where he was heading, Alita’s brow furrowed. “You think we can just drive out of here?”
“That’s what I’m counting on the enemy to think,” Dern replied.
The comm chimed softly beside his bed. Hooper flinched awake as if the sound were decibels higher than it actually was. Late night revelry kept him up well past his usual hour of retirement. It had been that way quite a bit as of recent. The prospect of incalculable wealth and power had put him in a celebratory mood. The suit was his ticket out of this backwater region of space. The wealth he’d squeeze from its replication would be enough to turn his equally disreputable peers into supplicants.
The thought was enticing enough to soften the edge in his voice when he responded to the comm. “What is it?”
“Boss…we have a problem. Lowtower escaped.”
Hooper shot to his feet, brushfire rage burning away vestiges of sleep. “Find him!” He snapped. “Heads will roll if he slips through our fingers. Literally!”
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