Steven Harper - Trickster

Martina took a deep breath and started across the room. Food smells washed over her and her stomach growled, though she didn't feel at all like eating. The kitchen should be nearby. Martina found herself keeping to the edges of the room. Stupid. Anyone who saw a Delta walking as if she belonged there wouldn't think twice. Anyone who saw a Delta trying to sneak about would get suspicious. Martina forced herself to stride openly and firmly. Silverware clattered against plates and people continued to talk. How long before the people spying on her room got suspicious about the bathtub? How long before they sent someone else to check? Martina didn't know.

One of the Deltas looked up, noticed Martina, and waved her over. Martina's veins hummed with adrenaline. She gave a little wave of her own, pretending to misunderstand, and headed for a large set of swinging doors on the other side of the dining room. Before she could hesitate and lose her nerve, she pushed through them.

On the other side lay an industrial-sized kitchen, with row of gleaming work counters, metal doors, shelves of utensils. White-clad workers chopped and mixed and stirred bubbling pots. The place smelled of cheap meat and tomato sauce.

"Is there something you need, Delta?" asked a voice at her elbow.

Martina stifled a shriek and put a pleasant look on her face. A balding, red-faced man was looking at her inquisitively. An enormous butcher knife gleamed in his hand.

"I'm just looking for the cargo lift where the food shipments come down," she said, trying not to look at the knife. "I don't come back here very often."

"Back there," the man replied, pointing. Then, with a disinterested air, he turned back to his cutting board. The knife made meaty thunks.

Martina breathed an inward sigh at her luck. She hurried to the rear of the kitchen and through another set of swinging doors. Beyond them was a short hallway that ended at another lift, this one big enough to haul freight. It opened to her keycard, so she got in and checked the displays. The kitchen seemed to be in the basement, as she had guessed. There were five floors above her. Which one did she need? Not the first floor-she had just come from there. She thought a moment. Exits were more likely to be on one of the extremes. Fifth floor, then. Martina pressed the button. The lift came to life with a swooping noise that made her jump again.

After a long moment, the doors opened onto another plain corridor faced by several doors. No people in sight. Martina got out and looked for promising signs of an exit. None were in evidence. Martina ground her teeth in frustration. How the hell was she supposed to get out of here? There had to be a way.

The doors slid shut and the lift dropped. Martina thought about calling it back again, then decided against. A stairwell should be nearby-there it was-and she could easily try another floor. Maybe the exit was in the middle, on the third floor? But what if- The lift made a swooping noise behind her, and the display indicated it was climbing back up. It climbed fast, passing the fourth floor and halting at the fifth.

Gretchen fell backward with a grunt and crashed to the ground. The tray went flying. Food splattered ceiling, deck, and bulkheads as Isaac Todd planted another kick squarely in Gretchen's stomach. The breath whooshed out of her and she lay still. Without hesitating further, Todd sprinted off down the empty corridor, leaving his shackles on the floor behind him. After a long moment, Sister Gretchen Beyer stirred and slowly sat up. Her stomach hurt like hell and every breath burned like fire.

"Well, shit," she said.

Martina Weaver peeped through a crack in the stairwell door as the lift opened. A tall man dressed all in black slipped out and crept down the hall. The lower half of his face was covered with a mask, and he wore a close-fitting hood. A tool belt circled his narrow waist. Martina narrowed her eyes. It didn't take a genius to figure out that this was someone else who didn't belong here. And he probably knew a way out.

The man chose one of the doors, slipped a keycard through the lock, and went inside. Martina stood for a moment, torn by indecision. If she approached the man, he might be willing to let her follow him out in exchange for her silence. Or he might just kill her. All life, was this an opportunity or a trap?

The lift dropped again. After a few more hurried moments of thought, Martina decided to approach the man and take her chances. She was just emerging from the stairwell when alarms blasted up and down the hallway.

Kendi Weaver closed the research lab door behind him and ghosted over to one of the terminals in semi-darkness. The red arrow vanished from his vision. He slotted Jeung's false key into the terminal and pressed the yellow thumb against the plate. A display winked to life, granting him full access, just as Ben's mock IDs and keycards had granted him access to the Collection. It had almost been anticlimactic. Even the cameras in the hallways couldn't detect him-Ben was using Giselle Mallory's security access to upload false images of empty hallways.

The lab itself was pretty impressive, even in dim light. Stone-topped tables were scattered around an enormous room. Cabinets filled with equipment marched along the walls, and silvery cryo-units hummed to themselves, preserving who-knew-what. It smelled faintly of chemicals and singed cloth. The only light came from a table lamp left burning at one of the workstations.

Kendi was still nervous as a hunted lion. Success depended on so many factors beyond his control. Martina and Utang were depending on him-and they didn't even know he was here. Suddenly Kendi was tired of keeping secrets, tired of making plans, tired of the entire business. The idea of settling down on Bellerophon with Ben and a houseful of children became more attractive by the minute.

Kendi shook his head. This wasn't the time to be thinking about that. Forcing himself to concentrate, he produced the yellow thumb and Jeung's key from his tool belt and logged onto one of the terminals. Good Evening, Dr. Jeung.

"I'm on, Ben."

Following Ben's instructions, Kendi searched around until he found the medical database and the files he needed. He was just finishing up when the alarms blared. Kendi jumped, his heart in his mouth.

"Attention! Attention!" shouted the computer over the noise. "Alpha subject has escaped indoctrination area. Lockdown initiated. Attention! Attention! Alpha subject has escaped indoctrination area. Lockdown initiated."

"Shit!" Kendi all but leaped across the room to make for the door. It was locked. With chilly fingers, Kendi produced his false ID card. The door didn't budge. He tried Jeung's fake thumb and his key. Nothing. The alarms honked and blared, pounding his ears into his skull.

"Attention! Attention!"

"Ben!" Kendi shouted.

The door burst open. Kendi jumped back as a small crowd boiled into the room. The lights burst into full illumination, and Kendi shielded his eyes. When they adjusted, he found himself surrounded. Edsard Roon stood red-faced next to Isaac Todd, who looked triumphant. A pair of uniformed security guards, one male and one female, were holding a beautiful young woman in a green robe that was a size too large for her. Kendi stared at her face and the strength drained out of his legs.

A thousand thoughts and memories poured through him. He wanted to run to her, grab her in a hug. But he remained still. It would be a terrible mistake to let Roon know who she was and what she meant to him.

It was only then he noticed that Roon and Todd were holding neuro-pistols.

"Alice!" Roon barked. "Silence those damned alarms!"

The alarms went instantly quiet. Kendi's ears rang in the stillness.

"Imagine my surprise," Roon said. "I was on my way up here, acting on certain information that there would be a break-in at the labs, and I happened to stumble onto an escaped Alpha, trapped in the hallway by the lockdown. My luck."