He only hoped they had the same protocols his slug gun did about not firing on Marshalls.
There was only one way to find out.
Chapter 5
Mackey loaded up as best he could.
The Remington was too bulky for the air vents, so he’d have to leave her behind. The riot gear came in handy, though. He pulled on the shock vest and gloves that would deliver a hell of a charge to anyone who touched him. The vest was effective, but only for about twelve or so strikes. After that, it was just another Kevlar vest. The gloves had re-enforced knuckles that would give any punch he threw an extra pop.
He switched his standard slug rounds for ten clips of charged rounds instead. The tiny projectiles were designed to pierce the skin and deliver a charge that would knock out most adult men for about an hour with one shot. A hit on the neck or the skull could prove fatal.
He also brought a few mini O2 canisters with him in case he needed them. The air at the top of the prison may be thinner than the air in the common areas. He didn’t want to pass out from a lack of oxygen. The flash bang and nerve gas canisters weighed a ton, but he took two of them anyway.
Now that he was loaded up, he tested himself to see how heavy he was. Normally, he was a lean hundred and eighty-pounds. With all of his gear, he was pushing two hundred, if not more. He didn’t know if the shafts could hold his normal weight, much less his weight with the gear. That was a risk he’d have to take.
He opened the utility hatch and crawled through the narrow opening at a crouch. He wasn’t able to stand up until he got to the ladder leading up to the air vent two hundred feet above. A long climb. A long way to fall.
He put one hand on the first rung and closed his eyes. He tried to think of another way to get to Velda, but he knew this was his only shot.
“God,” he said aloud in the cramped shaft. “Don’t let me fuck this up.”
He stood quietly for a few seconds, half expecting some kind of response from the Almighty. All he heard was the screaming and banging of the inmates from within the prison.
He had to laugh. “Thanks. I love you, too.”
He began to climb.
Chapter 6
Mackey knew he must have tripped off a dozen or so sensors as he climbed the ladder. If the maintenance drones were operational, they’d be on their way to him, speeding along tracks to investigate the intrusion. He’d worry about that if and when it happened.
At the top of the ladder, he could see the air duct ran in a straight line before him. Drones didn’t need light to work so the vent was understandably dark. He elbowed the light switch at the mouth of the vent and watched the gray maintenance lights flicker to life. The shaft had dozens of other ducts that shot away from it in a star-like pattern; providing oxygen to the various lines of cells on each block. The duct didn’t look like it had any gaps or any holes in it. It looked as new as it had they day it had been installed over fifty years before. He just hoped the fifty year-old bolts and rivets that were holding the damned thing in place were in equally good shape.
He laid his hand on the vent and put some of his weight on it. The duct popped as it gave a little, but held solid. He put the rest of his weight on the duct and waited. All good.
Mackey ignored the numbness that spread from his chest to the lower part of his body as he began the uneasy crawl to the other side. He’d been a fighter jock too long for cramped spaces to bother him any longer. He moved along slow and steady, every inch without falling was one inch closer to Velda and escape. He kept his center of gravity constant; afraid the slightest shift might move the duct off kilter.
He didn’t have to see where he was going, so even though the lights were on, he kept his eyes closed as he moved. He knew this trek was as much of a mind game as anything else. Panicking in a confined space would get him killed so he ignored his surroundings. He blocked out the sounds of the howling convicts below; their pounding on the command console hatch. He drove off encroaching thoughts of the men breaching the module and climbing up after him. He convinced himself that he didn’t really hear the vent’s bolts straining or feel the duct buckling beneath him as he moved.
There was no use in thinking that even if it were true. He was committed now and there was no turning back.
Instead, he focused on the darkness of his own mind and kept his hands and knees moving forward because every inch brought him that much closer to the storage annex. To Velda. To the civilized world.
Closer to the chance of blowing that son of a bitch Staxx into stardust.
But despite all of his focus, the growing whir he heard echoing through the vents could not be ignored.
The maintenance drones had found him. And they were coming.
Chapter 7
Mackey opened his eyes and saw a maintenance drone gliding along the tracks from the opposite end of the duct. The drones hadn’t been built for interaction with humans. They were utilitarian tools; built with the sole purpose of maintaining the vents and reporting back on the integrity of the structures.
But as he watched it glide through the darkness, Mackey admitted the damned thing scared the shit out of him. It was black with a single red eye and numerous welding facets jutting from its sides. A metallic pincher dangled from beneath it to grab the carcasses of the rats and mice and other vermin who died in the vents. The rodents might not have been indigenous to moon, but they’d hitched a ride in the cargo holds of the ships delivering goods from Earth. The damned thing looked like a giant legless spider and just as menacing.
The drone stopped when it got about half a yard from him; its swollen electronic eye expanding, then contracting as it brought him into focus; studying this new obstruction that had appeared in its domain. It was feeding the image back to its central computer, undoubtedly trying to decide on what protocol to use to address it. He knew it wasn’t designed to kill a human, but it wasn’t designed to interact with one either.
He swallowed hard while the damned thing made up its electronic mind. And while it did so, it was blocking his way.
He looked around and realized he’d reached the large circular hub where all of the air ducts met. He was smack in the middle of the common area – and the convicts - two hundred feet below. He’d made it farther than he thought he had, but wouldn’t make it any further until the drone got out of his way.
He flinched when the red eye widened and the prison’s emergency claxon began to sound throughout the facility. It was a shrill, intermittent pulse meant to disorient the inmates and make them retreat back to the safety of their soundproof cells.
But Mackey had nowhere to go and he had no choice but to cover his ears with his hands to try to cancel the noise. He heard the hundreds of convicts below him shriek and bellow as the sound hit them hardest. He doubted they’d go back to their cells, but it would disorient them. Now, if the damned drone would get out of his way!
Their yelling continued as he heard four hundred gas jets activate in all the cells; part of the prison’s anti-riot protocols. None of the prisoners were in their cells, but he hoped it would be enough to at least knock some of them unconscious and make his going a little easier.
Above the claxon and the sound of nerve gas, he heard – or rather felt – more whirring coming his way. He saw more drones racing toward him along the various branches of the air ducts.
Then the drone in front of him swung out on a circular track that ran around the rim of the circular hub; clearing his way. Mackey scrambled into the opening as fast as he could, forgetting about balance and centers of gravity and being quiet. He was suddenly very popular with the maintenance drones and he knew he had to get the hell out of there.
Chapter 8
He heard the drone that had been blocking him sling around the hub and come back his way. He looked back as he crawled and saw the red eye growing wider as it raced along the thin rails; gaining on him. He kept crawling as it stopped suddenly; probably scanning him again now that he’d changed position by moving
further down the duct. He didn’t know much about maintenance drones, but figured that wasn’t a good sign.
He picked up his pace as best he could, half slithering, half crawling as he put as much distance between himself and that red eye as possible.
By the time he heard the whirring again, it was too late. The drone had already caught up with him and dug its pincers into his boot. The mechanism was stronger than it looked, piercing the thick shoe leather of his boot and digging into the sides of his left foot. Mackey screamed from the pain just as the drone began to reverse course; pulling him back the way he’d come.
He had no idea such a tiny machine had that much power, but it did. Mackey tried to dig his elbows and knees into the smooth sides of the vent, but couldn’t find traction. The drone had compensated for his weight and was slowly, but steadily dragging him backward.
Mackey ignored the pain in his left foot and managed to reach the slug gun strapped to his right leg. He pulled the weapon clear and fired a charged round into the electronic eye of the drone. The tiny machine sputtered from the shock and ground to a halt. Smoke began to pour from it as the added charge overloaded its sensors. The motor continued to grind despite the breaks.
The machine was down, but the pinchers were still dug into Mackey’s foot. He kicked back at the damned thing as best he could until something finally gave and his foot was free. He didn’t know if the machine had released its grip or if the pincers were still in his foot, but that didn’t matter. At least he could move again.
And move he did, scuttling along like a rat while the drone smoked and shook on the rails behind him. He heard more whirring coming from the hub behind him and he moved even faster, ignoring the shifting of the vent as he moved. He heard a loud crash that could only be one of the drones smashing into the wounded one.
And then he heard a sound he didn’t want to hear. A sound worse than the howling of the convicts below.
The sound of a drone’s welding guns coming to life.
Chapter 9
Mackey didn’t think he could crawl any faster, but he did. His elbows and knees banged into each other as he tried to gallop through the confined space toward the end which was less than twenty yards away now as the welding gun bit into the metal of the duct. He could smell the metal burning as it melted under the intense torch of the gun.
Mackey didn’t know if the drone had malfunctioned or was trying desperately to free itself. Either way, it was weakening the duct already strained under his weight.
He went numb again as the vent began to creak behind him. He stole a quick look and saw the light from the prison below begin to seep through the burning slit the torch had cut in the vent. The drone was cutting a neat line from the floor of the vent up to the ceiling. He lost his balance as one bracket on the right side gave way and the duct pitched to the right. The effort put too much weight on the left before it too gave way. He heard more metal straining under the extra weight and more rivets begin to pop. He got to his knees and elbows again and began crawling until…
The section of ductwork separated from the main and fell. He slid face forward as the ductwork gave way; dropping diagonally like a slide until it came crashing down on the railing atop the highest tier of cells.
Mackey spilled out of the duct, onto the cellblock floor just as the duct buckled and fell; crushing the howling men in the common area below.
Chapter 10
Mackey didn’t move. He lay very still on his stomach as he got his bearings.
The claxon had stopped sounding and red strobes began turning throughout the facility. A thin mist of nerve gas hung over the common area, just below where he was laying. It had thinned out enough just for him to see what was going on in the common area below.
About a couple of dozen convicts had been crushed by the duct. Dozens more were lying passed out at various areas throughout the common area, but a good number were still alert. They’d wrapped their heads with bed sheets to protect them from the gas. Mackey knew their eyes undoubtedly still burned and were out of focus, but they weren’t unconscious.
Just his luck.
He looked up and saw the air duct had separated cleanly from the wall right where the duct met the crawlspace to the ladder that would’ve taken him down to the annex. To Velda. It was a good ten feet above his head and nothing short of a ladder or a grappling hook would get him up there. He had neither.
The only good news was that he’d made it across the common area. He was directly above the door leading to the annex. His only option now was to get down there and through the door before the convicts stopped him. It was better than shooting through them from the command module, but not by much.
Keeping a low profile on the floor, he dug his MediPack from the pocket of the jumpsuit and swallowed a VitaTab. It was meant to give a pilot’s system an extra jolt of adrenalin to keep him awake. It should also be enough to counteract some of the effects of the nerve gas he’d be running through. He also put the O2 canister in his mouth to protect his lungs from the debilitating nerve gas. After all, he still had three levels between him and the hangar door.
All of the cells on this top were empty. The one closest to him still had its bed sheets on the bedding platform. Mackey got an idea.
He grabbed the sheet and blanket, tied them together, then quickly double knotted one end around the railing that ran around the top tier of the prison. He made sure no one was watching and, grabbing the other end, jumped from the tier. His momentum swung him down to the second tier, where he dropped. The blanket and sheet were still dangling from the top tier. If they saw it, they’d know he was there, but he couldn’t do much about it.
Even with all the injured and unconscious convicts, he was still outnumbered at least two hundred-to-one, if not more. He didn’t want to think about the odds. There was nothing he could do about them, either.
Now on the second tier, he saw the cell right in front of him wasn’t empty. It was occupied by a convict who’d wrapped his head in bedclothes as protection from the nerve gas. Only his eyes were visible and it was clear he wasn’t happy to see a Marshall outside his cell door.
Mackey pulled his slug gun and fired. The charged round struck the man in the belly and the compact electrical charge made his body go rigid before he slumped over on his bed. There was plenty of yelling and smoke and banging throughout the rest of the prison, so Mackey wasn’t so worried about being heard. But he still had one level to drop before he reached the hangar door and there was no way of doing it clean.
He began to take the bed sheet from around the convict’s face when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a group of ten or so convicts coming up the stairs. He didn’t know if they’d spotted him or the blanket rope. He didn’t know if they were coming for him or if it was just a coincidence. Either way, he couldn’t afford to be trapped in a cell with ten felons on the loose. He had to make it down to that hangar door in a hurry. And there was only one way to get there.
He grabbed the unconscious convict by the back of his prison uniform. He pulled him to his feet and held him in front of him as he jumped from the tier. The two men dropped to the floor, with the convict landing first.
The convict had cushioned the blow, but the impact still made Mackey dizzy. He forced himself to his feet, but fell back on his ass before he’d gotten his balance. At least he still had the O2 canister.
When he shook the cobwebs loose, he saw every convict in the common area had stopped moving. Most of them were still crowded by the command module hatch on the opposite side of the common area; a good distance away, but not far enough.
Because they were looking at him. Every single one of them.
He pulled one of the canisters from his vest and threw it at them. It was a flash bang canister and the convicts recoiled. He tossed another one and saw it was a nerve gas canister. A few of them stopped, but most kept coming.
He tossed the last two into the mob. More fell, but many kept coming still. Slow and steady;
moving as a single unit.
Mackey pulled his slug gun and fired, hitting a convict at the front with a charged round. The impact sent the twitching man backward into another convict, who was also shocked by the charge, though to a lesser effect.
It slowed the mob down just enough for Mackey to stagger to his feet and look behind him for the hangar door. The door was three feet directly behind him, just as he’d planned.
The prisoners moved around the two fallen convicts and kept coming. Mackey fired again, hitting a man on the left side of the mob in the throat. The man tumbled back, but this time, the men behind him were careful to get out of his way.
They’d learned.
And now, they were running.
Chapter 11
Mackey backed up to the hangar door as the convicts screamed toward him. His left hand found the keypad as he fired again with his right, hitting the fastest man in the leg. His target’s arms sprang out as he twitched, taking down three men behind him. But the rest ran faster.
Mackey quickly keyed in the five-digit code blindly. 5-7-2-9-0. He expected the hatch to hiss open.
The hatch didn’t hiss. He got an error buzz instead.
The mob got closer.
He felt a damp coldness spread through him again as he fired at the next closest convict. The charge caught the man in the eye. A hell of a shot.
But he didn’t have time to admire it. The mob came faster.
Knowing he didn’t have time for another blind attempt at the keypad, he looked down at it as he typed in the code as quickly as he could. 5-7-2-9-0.
The hatch hissed open and Mackey slipped into the annex. He began to shut the door but one of the convicts slid through the narrow opening. Mackey shouldered the hatch shut and he heard the lock engage. He knew he’d have to enter the code again to lock it permanently and began to type it: 5-7-2-9…
The convict nailed him with an elbow to the back of the head. Mackey, already dizzy from the fall, felt his knees begin to buckle. He stabbed at the final zero and hit it, just as the prisoner delivered a knee to his jaw. The convict was careful not to go near the Kevlar shock vest.