Max shifted uncomfortably. She wondered if it was Gen's idea of humor to give someone adrenaline and then coop them up in an air-vent for three hours.
The fan below them gave a half-hearted rattle, a shake, and then came on. Max sucked her breath in and held it. The first time it had come on, Gen had gestured frantically, exaggerated holding her breath and tapped her watch, holding up two fingers. It wasn't the sign-language used in combat training, but it was clear enough. The air that was blown past was noxious, nasty stuff, which burnt the eyes, and, even with breath held, smelled bad enough to curdle milk.
It affected Gen worse than herself, making her obviously nauseous. Her skin took a dreadful pallor and a sheen of sweat glistened over her brow. The muscles in her jaw were in high relief and her eyes leaked irritated tears down her white cheeks. Max felt a pang of pity for her before she remembered that she wouldn't even be here if it weren't for her. She didn't know what the blonde girl's motivations were, although she was fairly convinced that Gen had been responsible for landing her back at Manticore. She'd possibly even been the one who had darted her, judging by her accuracy in tagging the guards from the top of the storage cabinet. How many of her stories had been true? Everything she'd ever said had been so benignly possible, so temptingly probable. Had she been raised at Manticore? She was undeniably different in some of the ways that Max was different, and her graceful leap and swing to the top of the storage shelving spoke more of engineering than of intensive training. She couldn't have lied about her brittle bones; Max had felt the finger break herself.
One minute. The air continued to rattle past.
Choosing this space for a hideout was admittedly intelligent. The foul air that swept past every 30 minutes erased any hint of their scent to any dogs that may have been put on their path, and the air was noxious enough that any human who couldn't hold their breath would have expired. One group of guards had inspected the air-vent carefully, even to the point of starting to pull off the cover, but timing had been fortuitous enough that the fan had rumbled up, and the resulting wave of air had sent the guards coughing and stumbling away.
Max wondered how long it had been since they'd gone to hole here. She'd tried communicating with Gen via arm signals, but Gen didn't know the signals that she did, and tried to talk back in what Max recognized as American Sign Language, but couldn't understand enough of to keep the train of a conversation. They'd given up quickly, and Gen grew sicker and sicker each time the air rushed past.
The fan motor shrieked to an un-oiled stop, and the blades rumbled down slower and slower until the airflow faded to almost nothing. The two continued to hold their breath, waiting for the clear air from above to circulate slowly in.
Gen tapped her watch and held up one finger, then five fingers, then pointed above. 15 minutes until their exile ended. Max wished she knew the plan, supposing there was a plan, but satisfied herself with knowing that their wait was nearly over. She took a tentative breath, and satisfied herself that the atmosphere was breathable again.
Gen took a shaky breath as well, though it didn't help her color at all. She looked dizzy, and Max had a moment of concern that she would be a liability in this escape. Then she remembered the fierce declaration that this was her escape and the hard, determined look. She smiled to think that maybe that hard stubbornness was something that had been engineered into both of them.
**
At the nearly the end of the fifteen minutes, there was suddenly a distant explosion, and Max could see Gen's face flash into a smile so brief she wasn't sure she'd seen it. A regiment of running feet rushed past the air-handler, and after the shouts died away, there was silence on the roof. Gen un-crimped herself, and hauled herself up the tube and carefully out. Max followed her silently, grateful to allow blood to flow to unused muscles again.
Gen's color improved drastically out in the fresh air, and she took a moment to stretch her limbs conscientiously. Max followed suit, and it helped her own clarity of thought. "Now what?"
Gen paced to the edge of the roof, alert and keeping a keen eye out for motion. The glow of fire was clear across the compound, near the East entrance. There was activity over there, shouting and milling of soldiers. A dog barked in the distance. "Back down. There's a service van leaving in ten minutes." The door to the stairwell was locked, but just as Gen twisted her wrist to read her watch, Max could hear the magnetic lock suddenly power down. "Perfect." Gen pulled the door open and ran down the stairs.
Max followed closely; she didn't trust Gen further than a cat with feathers in its mouth, but she was obviously on a tight schedule, and her game plan so far had worked well.
"I put some clothing with my scent over at the East entrance, and rigged a minor explosion. That will keep them busy while we get out at the Southwest entrance." Gen took the stairs two at a time, and Max matched her. The loading bay they ended in at the lowest level held several service vans, and one of them was being loaded by bored-looking men in fatigues.
"Tell me they aren't going to make stupid excuses and delay us," one of the men was whining to another.
"God Franklin, I hope not. If I have to listen to you complaining about staying late again, I'll shoot myself." Unkind laughter.
Max and Gen darted, un-noticed, to the far side of the van, and, at Gen's arm motion signal, leapt lightly to the top of it and lay flat. Max quickly decided that all of Gen's plans relied too much on being still for long periods of time. It was tactically sound, but too boring, and Max found herself feeling fidgety and her fingers itched for action.
After a time that wasn't as long as she'd feared, but much longer than she'd hoped, the van started up and trundled out of the garage.
The compound was large, and it took several minutes to get to the gate, Gen and Max lay pressed to the roof. There, the van was met by a squad of men who did a thorough check of the vans contents and checked the ID cards of the driver and his crew. "We've got two crazies loose on base," one of them explained apologetically. His radio crackled and he stepped apart to listen to it away from the noise of the van. Gen and Max both listened carefully. Max couldn't quite make out the words, but Gen apparently could, because she hissed, "We were spotted from the tower, they're going to try to close in on us without scaring us off." Max turned her head unobtrusively and could see the tower in question, a light still sweeping randomly across the compound.
"Run for the fence?" she suggested.
Gen nodded. "Can you take out two of the guards on our left?"
Max snuck a look over the side. "Yes." There were four guards, but they were holding their guns loosely, and two of them had their safety's on.
"Lights go out in 20 seconds," Gen whispered. "Do it then."
Max nodded.
Twenty seconds came, and then ticked past again, and Gen furrowed her brow. She opened her mouth to revise the plan, but was stopped as power once more died on the compound. The light in the tower blinked out, the lights over the entrance died. The soldiers shouted, and two shots rang out as Max leapt off the van. Two of the soldiers at the left of the van were dead, shot through the forehead by the small gun that Gen had pulled from a pocket.
Max disabled the remaining two in no time; they were blind in the sudden darkness, and crumpled like rags with one blow. She turned to find that Gen had lowered herself from the van, and they sprinted in unison for the fence. A good leap had them half way up, and a fast scramble and they were over the top, if somewhat hindered by the wire, and then the shots began. A powerful flashlight was trained on them. "Jump!" Max thought she'd shouted it, but wasn't sure.
She leapt down to the gravel below, Gen matching her out of the corner of her eye. She landed in a crouch and turned to see Gen, who had not jumped, but dived, from the top of the fence. There was a sickening crunch as she rolled out of it, and she stood holding one arm in an awkward position close to her body with the other. "I can still run," she said grimly, and they sprinted in the direction that Gen led them, away from the base and towards the city. Shots were futilely hailed in their direction as the base disappeared into the darkness behind them.
The fan below them gave a half-hearted rattle, a shake, and then came on. Max sucked her breath in and held it. The first time it had come on, Gen had gestured frantically, exaggerated holding her breath and tapped her watch, holding up two fingers. It wasn't the sign-language used in combat training, but it was clear enough. The air that was blown past was noxious, nasty stuff, which burnt the eyes, and, even with breath held, smelled bad enough to curdle milk.
It affected Gen worse than herself, making her obviously nauseous. Her skin took a dreadful pallor and a sheen of sweat glistened over her brow. The muscles in her jaw were in high relief and her eyes leaked irritated tears down her white cheeks. Max felt a pang of pity for her before she remembered that she wouldn't even be here if it weren't for her. She didn't know what the blonde girl's motivations were, although she was fairly convinced that Gen had been responsible for landing her back at Manticore. She'd possibly even been the one who had darted her, judging by her accuracy in tagging the guards from the top of the storage cabinet. How many of her stories had been true? Everything she'd ever said had been so benignly possible, so temptingly probable. Had she been raised at Manticore? She was undeniably different in some of the ways that Max was different, and her graceful leap and swing to the top of the storage shelving spoke more of engineering than of intensive training. She couldn't have lied about her brittle bones; Max had felt the finger break herself.
One minute. The air continued to rattle past.
Choosing this space for a hideout was admittedly intelligent. The foul air that swept past every 30 minutes erased any hint of their scent to any dogs that may have been put on their path, and the air was noxious enough that any human who couldn't hold their breath would have expired. One group of guards had inspected the air-vent carefully, even to the point of starting to pull off the cover, but timing had been fortuitous enough that the fan had rumbled up, and the resulting wave of air had sent the guards coughing and stumbling away.
Max wondered how long it had been since they'd gone to hole here. She'd tried communicating with Gen via arm signals, but Gen didn't know the signals that she did, and tried to talk back in what Max recognized as American Sign Language, but couldn't understand enough of to keep the train of a conversation. They'd given up quickly, and Gen grew sicker and sicker each time the air rushed past.
The fan motor shrieked to an un-oiled stop, and the blades rumbled down slower and slower until the airflow faded to almost nothing. The two continued to hold their breath, waiting for the clear air from above to circulate slowly in.
Gen tapped her watch and held up one finger, then five fingers, then pointed above. 15 minutes until their exile ended. Max wished she knew the plan, supposing there was a plan, but satisfied herself with knowing that their wait was nearly over. She took a tentative breath, and satisfied herself that the atmosphere was breathable again.
Gen took a shaky breath as well, though it didn't help her color at all. She looked dizzy, and Max had a moment of concern that she would be a liability in this escape. Then she remembered the fierce declaration that this was her escape and the hard, determined look. She smiled to think that maybe that hard stubbornness was something that had been engineered into both of them.
**
At the nearly the end of the fifteen minutes, there was suddenly a distant explosion, and Max could see Gen's face flash into a smile so brief she wasn't sure she'd seen it. A regiment of running feet rushed past the air-handler, and after the shouts died away, there was silence on the roof. Gen un-crimped herself, and hauled herself up the tube and carefully out. Max followed her silently, grateful to allow blood to flow to unused muscles again.
Gen's color improved drastically out in the fresh air, and she took a moment to stretch her limbs conscientiously. Max followed suit, and it helped her own clarity of thought. "Now what?"
Gen paced to the edge of the roof, alert and keeping a keen eye out for motion. The glow of fire was clear across the compound, near the East entrance. There was activity over there, shouting and milling of soldiers. A dog barked in the distance. "Back down. There's a service van leaving in ten minutes." The door to the stairwell was locked, but just as Gen twisted her wrist to read her watch, Max could hear the magnetic lock suddenly power down. "Perfect." Gen pulled the door open and ran down the stairs.
Max followed closely; she didn't trust Gen further than a cat with feathers in its mouth, but she was obviously on a tight schedule, and her game plan so far had worked well.
"I put some clothing with my scent over at the East entrance, and rigged a minor explosion. That will keep them busy while we get out at the Southwest entrance." Gen took the stairs two at a time, and Max matched her. The loading bay they ended in at the lowest level held several service vans, and one of them was being loaded by bored-looking men in fatigues.
"Tell me they aren't going to make stupid excuses and delay us," one of the men was whining to another.
"God Franklin, I hope not. If I have to listen to you complaining about staying late again, I'll shoot myself." Unkind laughter.
Max and Gen darted, un-noticed, to the far side of the van, and, at Gen's arm motion signal, leapt lightly to the top of it and lay flat. Max quickly decided that all of Gen's plans relied too much on being still for long periods of time. It was tactically sound, but too boring, and Max found herself feeling fidgety and her fingers itched for action.
After a time that wasn't as long as she'd feared, but much longer than she'd hoped, the van started up and trundled out of the garage.
The compound was large, and it took several minutes to get to the gate, Gen and Max lay pressed to the roof. There, the van was met by a squad of men who did a thorough check of the vans contents and checked the ID cards of the driver and his crew. "We've got two crazies loose on base," one of them explained apologetically. His radio crackled and he stepped apart to listen to it away from the noise of the van. Gen and Max both listened carefully. Max couldn't quite make out the words, but Gen apparently could, because she hissed, "We were spotted from the tower, they're going to try to close in on us without scaring us off." Max turned her head unobtrusively and could see the tower in question, a light still sweeping randomly across the compound.
"Run for the fence?" she suggested.
Gen nodded. "Can you take out two of the guards on our left?"
Max snuck a look over the side. "Yes." There were four guards, but they were holding their guns loosely, and two of them had their safety's on.
"Lights go out in 20 seconds," Gen whispered. "Do it then."
Max nodded.
Twenty seconds came, and then ticked past again, and Gen furrowed her brow. She opened her mouth to revise the plan, but was stopped as power once more died on the compound. The light in the tower blinked out, the lights over the entrance died. The soldiers shouted, and two shots rang out as Max leapt off the van. Two of the soldiers at the left of the van were dead, shot through the forehead by the small gun that Gen had pulled from a pocket.
Max disabled the remaining two in no time; they were blind in the sudden darkness, and crumpled like rags with one blow. She turned to find that Gen had lowered herself from the van, and they sprinted in unison for the fence. A good leap had them half way up, and a fast scramble and they were over the top, if somewhat hindered by the wire, and then the shots began. A powerful flashlight was trained on them. "Jump!" Max thought she'd shouted it, but wasn't sure.
She leapt down to the gravel below, Gen matching her out of the corner of her eye. She landed in a crouch and turned to see Gen, who had not jumped, but dived, from the top of the fence. There was a sickening crunch as she rolled out of it, and she stood holding one arm in an awkward position close to her body with the other. "I can still run," she said grimly, and they sprinted in the direction that Gen led them, away from the base and towards the city. Shots were futilely hailed in their direction as the base disappeared into the darkness behind them.