VT and Coffee moved quickly to flank the door from which the mystery face had emerged moments earlier. The door was a cheap, wood-veneer number with a square glass window at head height that was criss-crossed with wire mesh. Identical doors stood at regular intervals along both walls of the corridor, which followed a gentle curve into the distance as it tracked the outline of the crater.
Both women pressed their backs to the wall. They glanced at one another. Coffee gave a nod of ascent.
VT leaned forward carefully and got as close to the little window as she dared, craning her neck awkwardly to peer into the room. All she could see was her own ghostly reflection against a field of darkness. She leaned back and shrugged at her partner.
Coffee looked at her, then at the door. She leaned forward slowly and grasped the steel handle, took three breaths and then forced the handle down and barged into the room.
"Don't move," she shouted into the darkness, training her weapon and dropping to one knee as she did.
VT stepped out behind the bounty hunter and levelled her own gun.
"Don't kill me," said a small voice. "Please, I surrender."
A plain laminate desk in the middle of the room, illuminated by light spilling in from the corridor, suddenly sprouted a pair of hands. The hands rose slowly, followed by two white-jacketed arms, and then a bespectacled head.
It was a woman, barely more than a girl in fact. She couldn't have been much older than eighteen. Her large-lensed glasses accentuated wide eyes as she stared fearfully at her assailants.
VT lowered her hand cannon. The sight of the girl had knocked the fight right out of her.
Coffee, it seemed, felt no such compunction. "Out in the open," she said, jerking the muzzle of her pistol to indicate where she wanted her captive to go.
The girl almost tripped over herself in her haste to do as instructed.
"Who knew the Red Dragons took on interns," Coffee smirked. She turned her head slightly to address VT. "Close the door. And get the lights."
VT complied, giving the young woman an apologetic glance as she did so. She flicked a switch near the door, and then closed the room off from the corridor.
Turning back, VT immediately regretted turning on the lights. As helpless as the girl had looked before, she seemed even more so now. If she taller than five-foot VT would have been surprised. She wore her mouse-brown hair in two, loose pig tales - one draped in front of her right shoulder and the other hanging down behind her left. From the look on her face, the two battle-mussed women standing before her were the most terrifying things she'd ever seen.
"Alright," said Coffee, sounding a little more relaxed. "Out in front of the desk."
She flicked her gun again. The girl squeaked in terror at the motion.
VT sighed. "Drop the gun, Coffee," she said wearily. "The girl is not a threat."
The bounty hunter turned on her. "Why in the hell would you say my name out loud?" she said, furious at her loss of anonymity.
VT was about to point out that Coffee wasn't even her real name when the intern piped up.
"Oh God," she said. "Does that mean you have to kill me now?"
Coffee turned back to her. "Maybe," she said.
"Nobody is going to kill anybody," said VT. She stepped up alongside Coffee and forced her gun arm down. "All we want is information."
The intern's face brightened. "Okay," she said. "What do you want to know? I know everything about the facility. All the specs and stats, all the major discoveries that have been made here. I've even read the biographies of-"
"Where the hell is Tiamat?" Coffee barked, causing the girl to clam up with a startled jerk.
VT rolled her eyes. "Listen kid," she said, working to keep her tone gentle and her impatience in check. "We don't want any trouble. Just tell us where to find Tiamat, and we'll be out of your hair."
The girl risked lowering a hand to brush a strand of hair from behind her glasses.
"Tiamat?" she said. "You mean the Mesopotamian goddess?"
"What?" said Coffee. "No not the goddamn Mesopotamian goddess! Tiamat the syndicate boss."
The girl looked confused.
"Well?" said Coffee. She looked ready to raise her gun again.
"I- I'm sorry," said the intern. "I don't know who that is."
To VT's horror, it looked like the girl was about to start crying.
"Hey, it's okay kid," she said.
Coffee looked across at VT in disgust. "No, it is not okay," she said. "How can she not even know who she's working for?"
That was a good point. VT scratched under the rim of her gap. "Alright, alright," she said. "Uh… what's your name, kid?"
The intern sniffed. "Theresa," she said, quietly.
"You work here, Theresa?" VT asked.
"Yeah," Theresa replied, her tiny voice almost childlike. She had to be doing it on purpose.
"How long?" VT asked.
Coffee turned away disgustedly, muttering things like 'waste of time' and 'just ice her now'.
"Three months. I mean four! Four months." The girl corrected herself frantically, as if her life depended on it.
"And who took you on?"
"It was the SSERC."
"SSERC?"
"Solar System Extraterrestrial Research Committee." She sniffed again, and her expression brightened a little. "They were taking on exceptional students to help convert the Pangboche 'scope into a transceiver in order to-"
"Talk to little green men?" said VT.
Theresa flushed. "Well, yes. I guess. If you want to put it that way."
"And did you ever meet the head of this SSE-whatever?"
"Well… no. No, I didn't"
"So, you just signed up for this shit, without ever talking to the guy in charge?" said Coffee.
"No! I mean yes. I mean…" Theresa's eyes scanned the carpet tiles as she searched for the words. "I knew that Andrew Von De Oniyate was involved. He's really into ET research. He's invested a lot into this project."
VT laughed and shook her head. She and Coffee had almost died for that information, and here this unassuming little thing had known it from day one.
"Aliens, huh?" said Coffee. "Since when did ET need an army to phone home?"
"Army? What army?"
"The one out there in the loading area," said VT. "It was one of the ships out there that shredded the hallway."
"The loading area?" Theresa frowned and shook her head. "Oh no, interns aren't allowed to go out there."
"And I suppose you just did as you were told?" Coffee sneered.
"Of course she did," said VT, a little of her frustration boiling over. "Look at her. She's practically the dictionary definition of a teacher's pet."
"Well, congratulations, Theresa," said Coffee. "You've just spent the last four months working for the biggest organised crime syndicate in the system."
Theresa's frown deepened. "What? No. No, I- I didn't-"
"Didn't know?" Coffee said. "Give me a break. Maybe next time you'll think twice before taking a job with some freaky science club." She stalked over to the door and peered this way and that out the window. "I hope the pay's good," she muttered.
"It is," Theresa muttered into her feet. "Very good."
"So now the syndicates are paying their interns?" Coffee chuckled as she continued to scout the corridor. "You couldn't make this shit up."
"Hey, this isn't exactly a picnic for me, okay," said Theresa, some steel entering her voice. Then she looked down at her feet, embarrassed by her own outburst. "It's just, I haven't seen my family in months," she went on more quietly. "This project is so sensitive, no one is allowed to leave the facility, or even call anyone. We can only communicate with the outside world via email."
That made sense. Emails were nice and easy to censor.
"Then why'd you take the job?" VT asked.
"Well," said Theresa, perking up a little, "First there was the psych test - which I aced, by the way - then-"
"She asked whyyou took the job, not how you got it!" Coffee snapped.
Theresa's eyes fell again. "Oh. Well… my family aren't doing too well. I guess no one is. The economy, you know? When I saw the size of the stipend the Committee was offering…"
"Geez," said VT, touching the peak of her cap and casting her gaze up at the ceiling.
Where would it end? As if it wasn't bad enough that the Reds were using a system-wide economic crisis to facilitate their move for power, now it seemed they were preying on the financially vulnerable to recruit innocents to their cause. And if what Theresa had said was anything to go by, using psych screening to cherry pick the kids least likely to rock the boat. In the grand scheme of things, it was hardly the worst thing a syndicate had ever done, but seeing this harmless, well-meaning girl stood before her, it made VT mad, nonetheless. All Theresa had wanted to do was help mom and dad, and instead she'd been duped into being an accomplice to a mob coup d'etat.
"That's real sad and all," said Coffee. "But do you know where the boss is or not?"
"No," said Theresa.
"Are you sure?" said VT. "Anything you can tell us might help."
Theresa looked at VT, and then at Coffee. Her expression was still fearful, but also appraising. She was trying to work out if she should trust them.
"Shit," Coffee hissed suddenly. She stepped away from the door.
"What is it?" VT asked.
"Goons," said Coffee. "Two that I could see."
And probably more not far behind. It was a miracle it had taken them so long to make an appearance. Or maybe it had just taken a while for them to rally from whatever part of the facility the syndicate-proper was hiding itself.
There was a bang from a little way up the corridor, the sound of a door being thrown open.
VT nodded to Coffee, then moved to the side of the room and concealed herself behind a rack of electronics. Coffee strode past Theresa, who flinched as she came near, and ducked down behind the desk.
Theresa looked at VT pleadingly, eyes wide with the question of what she should do. VT just raised her finger to her lips. Theresa nodded tightly. There was a chance she might just hand VT and Coffee over straight away; VT wouldn't blame her for it. Two armed strangers bursting into her office and feeding her some bullshit about gangsters running her science club - what was she supposed to do?
But there was no time to dwell on that concern. A voice sounded from outside, nasal and hectoring. "There's no one here. They're probably long gone."
"The boss told us to check, so we're going to check," said another, this one deeper, with an almost gentle, indulgent quality to it.
"Of course they're gone. I mean, look at that." Presumably, whoever was out there was pointing to the scorched mess at the junction of corridors. "What kind of idiot would hang around after that?"
VT grimaced.
"The boss told us to check, so we're going to check."
"Really? We're going to check every room in this section? Every last one?"
"The boss told us to-"
"Yeah, yeah. Just open the next one already."
The voices were immediately beyond the door now. VT pressed her back against the side of the cabinet and waited. She couldn't see where Theresa was or what she was doing. All she could do was hope that the kid would keep her cool and not rat them out, and that Coffee would keep her cool and not start a fire fight that would get everyone killed.
"Hey, the light's on in this one," said the nasal voice. "There's a kid in there."
The door handle turned with a click. The door scraped along the carpet tiles as it opened.
"What are you doing in here," said Nasal Voice. He sounded suspicious.
"Why aren't you in the common area?" said the lower voice.
"I came to check on some calculations I did yesterday," said Theresa. To her credit her voice sounded steady, conversational. VT could only assume what she'd just said was true. "I thought I'd do it now before-"
"In the event of an emergency, all personnel are to report to the common area," said the low voice.
"Emergency?" said Theresa.
VT grimaced again. Big mistake.
"Did you not hear what was going on outside?" said Nasal Voice. "The freaking walls have been torn to shit!"
"I'm sorry," said Theresa, her voice beginning to tremble. "I didn't- I mean, I must have-"
"Never mind that now," said Low Voice. "Just go to the common area and wait for further instructions."
"O-okay."
VT heard Theresa shift toward the door.
"Hold it," said Nasal. "Why send her down to commons when we can just take care of her now?" This last must have been to the goon's compatriot. "We're only gonna tie up the loose ends later today anyway."
"Loose ends?" Theresa's voice was almost inaudible.
Loose ends. VT's shoulders tensed as she thought of the colleagues she might lose – might have already lost - because they were loose ends. Resources to be spent and forgotten. Expendable.
"The boss said to get everyone to commons before we start cleaning up," said Low Voice.
"C'mon, Falkner," said Nasal. "You know we can't let her go wandering off on her own. Not when there's all this shit going down." There was a long pause. "You've seen the mess out there. If the boss asks, which she - or it, or whatever - won't, we just say the kid was caught in the crossfire."
There was a long pause before Falkner replied. "I see your point. Besides, you pretty much just told her everything anyway." There came the click of a weapon being cocked. "Sorry kid."
"No," said VT, and stepped out of cover.
The two men, one tall with chiselled features and short, coarse beard, the other medium in every sense with a square head and a pinched face, were standing just inside the doorway. They wore the long black jackets so beloved of syndicate thugs, and expressions of surprise and confusion. Only one had his weapon raised - the taller one who was probably Falkner - and from the look on his face he was still trying to process the new information that had been presented.
That hesitation cost him his life. He'd only just begun to swing his aim towards the new target when VT placed a bullet between his eyes. His head snapped back, the rear exploding in a hail of blood, bone and grey matter.
If anything, Nasal Voice was even slower. His gun arm hung at his side, and he seemed torn between the urge to strike back and the urge to flee. He glanced at the open door and died with a bullet in his chest.
It wasn't until both men were limp mounds of flesh, prostrate on the carpet that VT noticed the renewed ringing in her ears. She didn't even remember the sound of the shots, only the dull thumping in her head that could have been her heartbeat or the rage that she had failed so spectacularly to contain. The air was thick with gun smoke and the iron whiff of blood.
So much for keeping cool.
Theresa was standing exactly where she'd been when VT and Coffee had taken cover, face buried in her hands, her body rigid beneath her white coat.
"They were going to kill me, they were going to kill me," she said, repeating the grim mantra over and over into her cupped palms.
"Nice shooting," said Coffee. She had emerged from her hiding place and was admiring VT's handy work. "But you might've saved one for me."
VT ignored her, crossing the room while being careful not to slip on the slick that leaked from Nasal Voice's chest. She tried to close the door but what remained of Faulkner's head was in the way, and the trucker ended up having to hold it aside with a boot so she could get the door shut.
Coffee snorted. "The perfect crime," she said.
VT wished dearly that that damn bounty hunter would stop enjoying herself so much. She walked over to Theresa and placed what she hoped was a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder, but the intern flinched from her touch.
"It's okay," said VT. "They're not going to hurt you. I got 'em, kid. I got 'em."
Theresa slowly lowered her hands. There were tears in her eyes, and her cheeks were clammy from where she'd smeared them with her hands, but her expression was slack, empty. Her gaze came to rest on the gruesome corpses sprawled on the floor of the otherwise pristine office.
"Listen to me, Theresa," VT said. "We need to find their boss. If we can get to them, we can put an end to this. Will you help us?"
Theresa just stared. VT knew she should be frustrated, that she should be getting angry at this child who could be helping them but was instead struck dumb. And yet she couldn't bring herself to feel it. That look on Theresa's face, that vacant look that said the girl had retreated within herself to God only knew where, was one VT had seen only too recently. She'd seen it on Lo, after he'd been put through the wringer during Andy's idiotic escape from his father's estate. Theresa was just one more honest, ordinary person half-ruined by some irresponsible cowboy.
"Forget it, VT," said Coffee. "Let's just get out of here."
VT placed her free hand on Theresa's other shoulder.
"C'mon, kid. Say something. Just one thing, anything. Anything at all." VT wasn't even interested in intel anymore. She just wanted to hear the intern speak, to know that she hadn't been broken completely.
"The receiver room," Theresa said. It was barely more than a whisper.
"The receiver room?" said VT. "What about it?"
"We're not allowed. Not allowed up there. There and the loading bays."
VT looked at Coffee. Coffee looked back and shrugged. "I ain't got a better idea," she said.
"Theresa," said VT, turning back to the stricken intern. "How do we get to the receiver room."
"Why did they have guns," said Theresa, frowning down at the dead thugs. "Why would scientists need guns?"
It seemed that the girl knew these two men, or had at least met them, and had been fooled into thinking they were working on the telescope. Though how those two knuckle heads had successfully passed themselves off as men of science was anyone's guess.
"Don't worry about those two," she said. "Just tell me how to get to the receiver room."
Theresa rocked slightly on her feet, then looked up into VT's eyes. There was flicker of recognition, as if she might be coming back to herself.
"The elevator," she said slowly. "There's an elevator that goes up to the rim of the dish, then there's a car than runs from there to the receiver room."
So, the receiver room really was just that, a room situated within the receiver of the telescope. A suitably dramatic throne room for the new ruler of the Red Dragons.
"Okay," said VT. "And where's the elevator?"
"Down the hall to the left, then right. The doors are at the end." The life seemed to return to Theresa's face as she spoke. She paused, looking at VT, and then her eyebrows arched in sudden panic. "Are you going to leave me?" she said. "Please don't leave me. What if more of them come?"
"It's okay," VT lied. "You'll be okay."
"I want to come with you," said the intern. She reached out and grabbed a handful of VT's jacket. "Please don't leave me here."
"You can't come with us," said VT, talking over Coffee's less polite refusal. "It's too dangerous." She gently peeled Theresa's fingers from her sleeve.
It pained VT to leave the girl behind. She knew it meant leaving her for dead, either to be found and 'cleaned up' by syndicate goons or caught up in what VT had planned as a last resort, if this mess couldn't be contained. But she couldn't bring her along. She'd be no more or less dead if she stayed, but at least VT wouldn't have to watch it happen.
VT cursed herself for a coward.
Then a thought occurred.
"Theresa, does this place have escape pods?"
"Yes," said Theresa. "But I- I don't think they've got any power. They weren't a priority."
Of course they weren't. What would a bunch of corpses need with escape pods?
"Do you think you can restore the power?"
"Damn it, VT!" Coffee barked. "Let's just go already. Kid'll be fine."
"Shut up, Coffee!" VT snapped.
The bounty hunter looked furious but didn't bite back. Instead, she stalked to the other side of the room and peered through the window again.
"Can you do it?" VT asked Theresa again.
Theresa's expression became distant, as if she was imagining performing the task being asked of her. "Yes," she said at length. "I-I think I can. The pods have an independent power supply. It's been redirected to the dish but if I can hack into the-"
"Great!" said VT. She clapped Theresa on the shoulder and the little intern almost crumpled under the force. "You do that, then you find the nearest pod and get the hell out of here."
"Um, okay. But, what about everyone else?"
Everyone else. All the other interns, and God only knew who else that had been sucked into this shit storm. VT couldn't save them all, maybe none beside the one stood in front of her. This was triage, the fates of a handful of innocents weighed against that of a planet. Maybe even a system. There was no other way.
"Don't worry," said VT, hating herself a little more with each word she spoke. "I'll take care of it."
Theresa gave a tight little nod, then immediately turned and rounded the desk to sit at the computer console. She settled into the chair, glanced once at the bodies lying on the carpet tiles, then set to work.
VT joined Coffee at the door.
"Can we go now?" the bounty hunter scowled.
"Yeah, let's go."
VT pulled the door open and stepped out into the corridor. The gunfire started immediately.
ooo
Lo fought to contain his panic. The Bebop was surrounded, its bridge awash with the strobing red and blue lights of the police craft that hung in the void beyond. The comm panel beeped frantically - the PA had been completely disconnected in anticipation of just this situation - but Andy had insisted Lo leave it be. The bounty hunter staring out the window at the police ships from the front of the bridge, one hand resting on his sword as if he might at any moment pounce and dismantle them with his blade. All that was missing was a meadow of tall grass swaying in the breeze of a gathering storm. It was like being a passenger in a fatal, head-on collision between a samurai epic and a science fiction serial. And a low budget one at that.
Lo desperately wanted to answer the hail, even though he knew he shouldn't. He was aware, anecdotally at least, of what had happened the last time the Bebop had encountered the Mars Orbital Police and suspected that the crooked cops would shred the old fishing ship given an excuse. In fact, Lo was a little surprised that they hadn't done so already after their humiliation near the Earth-bound hyperspace gate. But while he knew that the officers out there were no friends to him or his companions, his innate instinct to defer to authority was pressing hard on him. They were the police! He had to do as they said.
He raised a finger towards the console, then drew it back before he could open the channel.
"Alright," said Andy. "I think we've let them stew long enough."
They've stewed long enough? Lo thought in disbelief. If the police had been stewing, then Lo wondered what he had been doing for the last ten minutes.
Andy looked over his shoulder at Lo. "Answer it," he said.
Lo looked down at the console, at the flashing light that accompanied the incessant beeping. He reached out and tapped the control.
"Bebop crew," The voice of a police officer, his voice hard and gravelly, rang between the bulkheads. "You are under arrest for the murder of Cho Min-Soo, the murder of Shinya Tanaka, and for the destruction of the Pangboche 2 space station. Surrender immediately or be destroyed."
Lo grimaced. That had not sounded anything like the rights that the policemen read to the perps in the old police procedurals.
"You have ten seconds to comply."
Lo began to panic. "Can they do that?" he said, looking at Andy. "They can't really do that! Can they?"
The repairman's mood wasn't helped by the smirk that curved across Andy's face as he approached the comm. On anyone else that look of calm confidence might have been reassuring. On Andy it seemed a harbinger of imminent death.
"Five seconds," said the police officer. "Four, three…"
Andy leaned over the console. "Officer, this is Miyamoto Musashi, acting captain of the Bebop," he said. "We surrender."
"What?!" Lo squawked.
"Bebop," said the officer. "You will open all your air locks, cargo bays and access points. You will then shut down all non-essential systems. If your ship is not adrift in the next thirty seconds, we will open fire."
Andy frowned and rubbed his chin. It was an exaggerated gesture, made especially ridiculous by the fact that the channel had no visual feed, so the police officer had no way to see that he was being mocked.
"Hmmm," said the bounty hunter. "Well, that might be a problem."
"Bebop, this is not a negotiation. Open all access points and shut down your systems immediately. You have fifteen seconds."
"Y'see, the problem is that we can't open all the access points from the bridge. All the airlocks have to be opened locally."
"Five seconds."
"I mean, you can see the state of this thing. It's a piece of crap. The airlocks probably have winders."
There was a pause. Lo was heartened; Five seconds had already passed since their last warning, and he, Andy and the ship hadn't been reduced to scorched debris. It seemed that the Orbitals were still skittish about openly attacking the Bebop without apparent provocation – even if Andy was doing his best to goad them into an assault. Lo guessed that Andy's surrender was a bluff, albeit a wildly optimistic one. Truth was Lo knew little of the plan beyond returning to Mars and waiting for word from VT and her modest assault force. VT had encouraged Lo to sit out much of the planning process. She had told him that this was because he wouldn't be involved much beyond running repairs on the comm system, though he strongly suspected that the real reason had been to spare him some of the more terrifying details of the scheme, an act of exclusion for which he was profoundly grateful.
After a short while, perhaps spent in conference with his colleagues, the police officer spoke again. "Bebop, you will open all access points and then return to the control deck and shut down your systems. Any movement of your ship, any communication with ships other than mine, will be treated as resisting arrest and will be met with lethal force."
He sounded frustrated. Lo wondered how long the bluff would hold.
"Thanks for your patience officer," said Andy. "I'm much obliged. Oh, and congratulations on your promotion. I guess the other guy got the boot after what happened last time, huh?"
The police officer cut the line. Lo didn't quite breathe a sigh of relief, but his shoulders relaxed enough that they were no longer almost stuck in his ears.
"So, what do we do now?" he said. "I mean we're not actually going to open the airlocks for them, are we?"
Andy looked down on Lo and smiled that calm, dangerous smile.
"Sure we are," he said.
ooo
VT dived to the ground and emptied the rest her clip into the space between herself and her assailants. In those first seconds, all she could see was a clot of black-clad shapes at the point where another T-junction interrupted the curving corridor. Only once she was on the deck did the figures resolve into three syndicate goons, all dressed in flowing black coats, bunched together at the intersection.
Everyone was still standing after that first exchange by virtue of all concerned having been taken by surprise. VT had her hand in her pocket, fishing for another clip and wholly expecting to be on the receiving end of a far more accurate volley, when Coffee opened fire from the doorway.
Two of the goons managed to jink into the safety of the adjoining corridor. The third, who had been lining up on the prostrate VT, collapsed backwards, landing in a tangled heap of arms and legs and expensive clothes.
"What's wrong with you!" Coffee barked. "Do you want to die?"
VT knew she'd been careless, and was fortunate to be alive, but Coffee's attitude made it difficult to be gracious.
"Just move up to the next door," she said and shoved a new clip home. "I'll cover you."
The trucker came up to one knee as the bounty hunter darted towards the next door down. Coffee grasped the handle, but it was locked. Falkner and his whiny friend must have locked up after they'd searched the room.
One of the syndicate men, perhaps taking the rattle of a door handle for a signal that someone had lowered their guard, popped his head and shoulder out from the junction and raised his pistol to fire.
VT took her shot immediately, but she was out of practice and the last thug she'd put down had been a lot closer and a lot more exposed. The shot went high and wide, striking the corner of the wall a little above the goon's head. Fortunately for Coffee, the resulting burst of plaster dust peppered her would-be killer's face. He let out a bark of pain as the debris stung his eyes, then went down in a welter of blood and bone as Coffee shot him from the hip.
"It's locked," the bounty hunter called back unhelpfully.
"Forget the door," VT called, struggling to her feet.
She could hear the sound of feet scuffing along the carpet; the third syndicate man was in full retreat.
"Get after him!" she shouted. "I'll watch the corridor."
"Whatever you say, dead eye," Coffee called back, already on the move.
VT followed behind her, grumbling as she went.
Coffee reached the intersection, pressed her back to the wall and leaned out. She fired a single shot. The sound of a crumpling body was almost lost amid the weapon's report.
VT made it to the adjoining corridor just after Coffee had rounded the corner. The sight of this new hallway, bland and sterile and identical in almost every respect to those she'd already seen so far, reminded her again of why she'd shied away from an office career. Its most interesting feature was the scatter of corpses that broke the monotony of the tiled floor.
"This way said Coffee," Trotting on down the corridor, gun held straight down at her side.
VT glanced back the way she'd come. The door of the room where they'd left Theresa was closed, the window dark. From here the room would be indistinguishable from those around it, but for the red-brown smear emerging from beneath the door. With any luck the trail of dead bodies in the hallway would be enough to draw attention away.
"Good luck, kid," VT breathed.
She turned to follow Coffee, then a thought struck her.
"Coffee, hold on."
The bounty hunter, who had already pushed on past a couple of doors, turned and glared at her. "What the hell are you doing?"
"This'll just take a second," VT said.
She knelt next to the nearest body and examined the head. As she'd expected, there was an earpiece lodged in the dead man's right ear, with a small mic that reached out to touch his cheek. She plucked it out, wiped the bud on her sleeve, then popped it into her own ear.
"Are you coming or not?" Coffee called, edging away impatiently.
VT stood up. "Let's go," she said and pushed on after her partner.
The corridor was long and straight, and so far as VT could tell, had no junctions. There would be little chance of being surprised the way they had been last time. She cast a wary glance over her shoulder at the receding junction, but there was no sign of pursuit. Not yet at least.
The earpiece was alive with chatter. It was like listening in on a cabby's radio, only with fewer requests for pickups and more instructions to kill, maim and destroy. Encouragingly, the messages VT was hearing suggested that the Red Dragons thought the attack was much bigger than it really was. She guessed this was down to a combination of the old scientific facility not being equipped with a decent radar system, and an army of blowhard goons exaggerating their exploits.
VT returned her attention to the corridor. If she and Coffee were to face another attack, it would most likely come from the front. Ahead, the corridor terminated in a pair of steel elevator doors. This had to be the source of the last assault, and more importantly, the route to the receiver room that Theresa had described. Probably the goons had been dispatched directly by Tiamat. With any luck the syndicate boss wouldn't have too many more goons to spare, what with the preparations going on in the loading bays and the confusion spread by the bounty hunters' diversionary attack.
They reached the elevator unmolested and Coffee hammered at the call button while VT glanced back along the hallway. After an eternity of button mashing and cursing, the elevator arrived with a cheerful ping. The doors slid open, and the pair stepped inside. Three buttons adorned the wall of the bland metal box, the middle one of which glowed white.
"Going up?" Coffee asked.
VT was about to answer when the earpiece buzzed urgently in her ear.
"Mueller," said a female voice. It sounded like the same voice that had asked VT and Coffee to identify themselves as they'd approached the telescope. "Mueller, are you there? Please report. We're not getting any response from Lao. Do you require back up?"
VT grimaced. No, she most certainly did not want anyone sending back up for the deceased Mueller.
Coffee frowned and opened her mouth and opened her mouth to speak, but VT raised a staying hand.
"Mueller, are you there?" the voice asked again, and then muttered "What the hell is going own down there? Mueller, I don't know if you can hear me, but I'm sending down-"
Before the woman could complete her sentence, VT pinched the mic between a thumb and forefinger and said, "Don't… backup. No problem… here." She grimaced, hoping that the combination of her own deep tones and the muffled mic would be sufficient disguise.
"Mueller. Mueller, is that you? What's wrong with your mic? Where is the rest of your team?"
"Damaged in… intruders… eliminated."
Coffee watched the show with a cocked eyebrow. Whether her expression betrayed admiration or shock at VT's audacity, VT wasn't sure.
"Mueller, please repeat," said the voice. "Did you say the intruders were eliminated? Please confirm."
"Confirm… dead. Just… up now."
"Okay, good work Mueller," said the woman, though she sounded uncertain. "Please return to the car dock and await further instructions."
The earpiece clicked off, returning to the ambient chatter it had been relaying earlier.
Coffee gave VT an enquiring look.
"It's safe," said VT.
"What the hell was that about?" the bounty hunter asked.
"Orders," said VT. "We're supposed to go to the car dock."
"Where-ever the hell that is," Coffee replied.
"I'm guessing up." VT reached out and punched the topmost of the elevator buttons.
The doors shut. The elevator shuddered into motion.