The Prison in Antares (24 page)

Irish nodded her head, though no one could see it. “She's got a point.”

“Yeah. In fact, we'd better put you inside it. Officers don't ride on the tops of transports.”

“The door will be sealed until it stops,” said Pandora.

“There's more than one way to bust into a sealed room or transport,” said Ortega. Suddenly they could hear his artificial arm spinning, and then came the harsh sound of metal drilling through metal. “One more minute,” he grated, and heard a section of metal pop out. “Who needs two flesh-and-blood arms anyway? Nobody ever wounded
this
one.”

“Proto, can you maneuver your way to it?” asked Pretorius.

“I don't think so,” answered Proto. “I can barely hold on as it is.”

“Not a problem,” said Snake. “Proto, I think I'm just a few feet from you. I'm going to start crawling—well,
slithering—
over to you. Let me know when you feel my hand on you.”

They were all silent for perhaps thirty seconds, peering into the darkness, trying without success to see what was transpiring.

“Now!” said Proto.

“Good!” replied Snake. “I've got one hand hooked over the hole that Felix made. Can you crawl alongside me, or even over me, to reach it, or should I drag you?”

“You'd better pull me over to it,” said Proto.

“Okay,” said Snake. “Got you. Let me know if I'm hurting you.”

“No, I'm fine.”

“Coming to the hole. The transport looks to be about ten feet deep. Can you take that kind of fall?”

“I truly don't know,” answered Proto. “But we have to try.”

“Just a minute!” said Ortega. “My arms are a hell of a lot longer than yours, Snake. I'll take it from here. This way the drop will only be maybe six and a half feet.”

“Makes sense,” agreed Snake. “Let me know when you've got him and I'll let go.”

“Got him already. I'm positioned right at the hole, remember?”

There was a moment's silence. “Ready?”

“Yes, you can let go,” replied Proto.

Pretorius thought he could hear a
thud
, but a moment later Proto's voice came up through the hole in the roof.

“Made it!”

“Nothing broken, I hope?” said Pretorius.

“I don't have any bones, remember?” said Proto.

“Still remember those sentences Pandora gave you?” asked Pretorius.

“Absolutely.”

“I hope you're right,” said Pretorius. “Because we're slowing down and I can see lights up ahead.”

34

“Are we overlooking anything?” asked Pretorius.

“I wouldn't think so,” said Pandora. “Whether or not they believe him when he climbs down, they're going to know the minute he's inside that he's an imposter.”

“I know,” said Pretorius. “But they won't spot the mike or whatever you call it right away.”

“I have a question,” said Irish.

“Shoot,” replied Pretorius.

“Let's assume that we get into the jail intact.”

“Okay.”

“And let's further assume that we get Nmumba out from wherever they've incarcerated him, and that most—or at least some—of us live through it. We'll still be inside the most impenetrable jail in the entire Coalition.” She stared at him. “Have you given any thought to how we escape from here?”

“I'm working on it,” replied Pretorius.

The transport came to a halt, and Proto stepped out as the door slid open. The Antareans—there were five of them—froze, and one who was in uniform saluted and began speaking. Proto imperiously gestured for silence, repeated a couple of lines Pandora had given him to the effect that he needed to see their superior, and then walked toward the door to the interior, which vanished as he approached it.

He still looked like an Antarean general as he passed through the doorway, but suddenly three of the Antareans threw themselves at what they thought was his head and torso. They collided and fell to the floor, two of them unconscious, the third writhing in pain.

But the officer pulled his burner out and aimed it, not at what appeared to be Proto's head or heart, but rather at what seemed to be his feet, which meant that the scanner had not only told him that he wasn't facing an Antarean general, but was actually confronting a being that was at best two feet high.

He began asking questions, but Proto, who didn't speak Antarean, was unable to answer. He kicked Proto twice and asked them again, and it was all Pretorius could do to prevent Ortega from jumping off the top of the transport and racing to his rescue.

Finally the officer barked a command, at which his companion and the one who hadn't quite knocked himself out diving at Proto's image walked over and picked Proto up, carrying him off to the interior of the jail.

“I'm being carried straight in from the transport, which I will arbitrarily call North. Ten, eleven, twelve steps, and now they've turned east.”

The officer growled a command.

“I think he just told me to shut up. I'd better, or else I won't be able to—”

There was a grunt, and then silence.

“We'd better go in after him,” said Pandora.

“Not yet,” said Pretorius.

“What the hell are we waiting for?” demanded Snake.

“In case it's escaped your attention, there are two Antareans lying on the ground between the transport and the entrance to the jail. Either they'll wake up shortly, or someone will be by to collect them.”

“What about Proto?” said Ortega.

“He'll be fine,” answered Pretorius. “They're not going to kill him before they find out who and what he is and what he's doing here.”

“With the right torture device, that will take about ten seconds,” said Snake.

“They've probably never seen a member of Proto's race,” answered Pretorius. “I know that
I
haven't. And if they're not acquainted with any of them, they won't know what his pain threshold is or how to torture him. He's breached the most secure prison in the Commonwealth. I guarantee they're not going to risk killing him before they find out how and why he did it.”

Snake was about to reply when four burly, uniformed Antareans emerged, walked over to the two unconscious bodies, lifted them up, and carried them inside.

“Okay,” said Pretorius, climbing down off the roof of the transport half a minute later. “They should be on their way to what passes for an infirmary. Get down here quick.”

“Why are we suddenly in a hurry?” asked Ortega.

“The transport hasn't moved an inch,” explained Pretorius.

“So?”

“Tell him, Irish.”

“The transport didn't stop because we were on it,” explained Irish. “We know there was nothing to unload. That means they have something, perhaps a lot of things, to load onto the transport. They were delayed by the little scene with Proto, but now that he's been captured and the injured Antareans have been moved to safety, they should be coming back with whatever they plan to put in the transport.”

“And if we get into a shooting match with them, we may win the battle, but they'll lock every entrance to the building and go on full alert, and we'll have lost the war,” concluded Pretorius.

“So we rigged Proto to guide us, and now we're storming the place without knowing anything about its interior?” demanded Ortega.

“We're not storming it,” explained Pretorius. “We're just getting out of the most obvious line of fire. Once we're inside, we'll do our damnedest to find a storage or supply room, something like that, and wait until Proto regains consciousness.”

“And he'll say, ‘I'm in a prison cell somewhere in the building. Find me,'” growled Ortega.

“It's okay, Felix,” said Pandora before Pretorius could curse at him. “The thing he swallowed is emitting a signal that I can trace with this.” She held up one of her tiny computers. “He'll tell us what he can, and we'll dope out the rest from his signal.”

“Hurry!” snapped Pretorius. “Before they come or the door snaps shut.”

He stood aside as his team entered, then stepped through the doorway just before it closed. They found themselves in a circular room, with passages leading to the right, the left, and straight ahead.

“Okay,” he said. “Proto said they were carrying him straight ahead. That'd be the corridor opposite the transport. It either leads to the cells, or to the interrogation rooms, and that means it'll be better-protected than most of the place. So do we go right or left? There's no sense splitting up. Only Pandora can read and trace Proto's signals.”

“This one,” said Snake suddenly, heading off to her left.

“What makes this one better?” asked Pretorius as they all fell into step behind her.

“I see a vent in what passes for the ceiling,” replied Snake. “It figures. There's no natural air circulation two miles below the ground. If you or Felix will give me a boost, I can probably fit in the ventilation shaft and follow it to see where it leads.”

“Sounds good,” said Pretorius as they reached the tunnel.

“Well?” demanded Snake as Pretorius walked past her.

“Let's see if this damned tunnel curves enough so that we're out of sight when they walk through the entrance,” he answered. “If there's a vent here, there'll be more along the way.”

They walked straight ahead for perhaps seventy feet, and then the tunnel curved gently to the right. They came to a storage room and entered it. It was filled with bags of torn clothes and blankets, and had another vent in the ceiling.

“This'll do,” said Pretorius. “We're totally out of sight.” He turned to Ortega. “Felix, lift her up and see if she'll need any tools to remove the damned thing, or if she can just pull it down or push it aside.”

Ortega put his hands on Snake's hips and held her above his head. A moment later she pushed the vent loose and shoved it aside.

“Okay, I'm in,” she said. “I don't suppose anyone's brought a headlamp?”

“Don't be silly,” said Pretorius. “For all you know you'll be crawling or slithering over the guards' quarters. We don't need to let them know someone's up there by shining a light through the vent.” He paused. “We'll be waiting for you in this room.”

“All right, all right,” said Snake irritably. “What exactly am I looking for? I mean, if this doesn't lead to Nmumba?”

“Empty secure rooms,” answered Pretorius. “An armory. Other prisoners that we can set free to cause a distraction.” He paused, thinking. “There's no day or night down here, so I imagine they work in two or three shifts. That means there's got to be a dormitory, living quarters, for those guards who aren't on duty. If you can pinpoint them, it could prove useful.”

“Okay.”

“And remember, you're just our eyes and ears, not our weapons. You look, you listen, and then you report back to us and tell us what you've seen.”

“You know, Nate,” said Snake, “you're no fun at all.”

“I've been told that before,” replied Pretorius. “Now get your ass in gear.”

He found that he was speaking to an empty space.

35

“Do we know what kind of cells they have here?” asked Irish.

Pretorius shrugged. “Not a hint,” he said. “Could be bars, or electricity, or a force field, or half a dozen other things.”

“I'm more concerned with how we get back out of here once we've freed him,” said Pandora.

“There are at least two routes that we know about,” answered Pretorius. “The way we came, and the shaft that leads directly to it.”

“You say that as if you think there might be a third way.”

“I don't know of one,” he replied. “But I wouldn't rule out the possibility. I mean, who the hell thought we could get to where we are now by entering a mine fifty miles away?”

They fell silent then, waiting to hear from Proto or for Snake to return. Pretorius posted Ortega by the doorway in case any Antareans approached it, but fifteen minutes later no one had come near it.

Then Snake returned, lowering herself until she was hanging by her fingertips. She released her grip, landing with the grace of an athlete.

“Well?” said Pretorius.

“If they've got any prison cells in this place, you can't prove it by me,” she answered. “I followed the vent for maybe two hundred fifty, three hundred feet. At the end—not the end of the vent, just the end of my little exploration trip—I found myself over what seemed like an interrogation room. I was hoping they'd have taken Proto there, but it was empty.”

“Then why do you think it was an interrogation room?”

“You ever seen a dining room with a Neverlie Machine?” she asked.

Pretorius considered what she said.

“I think we're okay,” he finally replied.

“Okay?” said Snake, frowning.

“The Neverlie Machine gives you a helluva painful jolt every time you lie,” he said. “But it doesn't work for all species. If they thought it would work on Proto, they'd have taken him there immediately, and you'd have seen him.”

“Maybe not,” said Pandora. “He's been unconscious for the past few minutes.”

“Damn!” said Pretorius. “You're right. They might take him there after he's awake.” He lowered his head in thought for a moment, then looked up. “It won't make any difference. The mere fact that they captured him in the transport tunnel means that by now they've checked with all the mines and they know that the one we came in through has got three dead Antareans . . . and since they've seen Proto as he really is, they know he didn't kill them or rip up the roof of the transport, and that he's clearly not alone. But that means we can't just sit here waiting to be discovered.” He turned to Pandora. “How accurately can you pinpoint his location through the signal he's emitting?”