Drew Karpyshyn - Retribution

Anderson didn’t comment as she sat down beside him. He wondered what she had whispered, but he had no right to ask. The moment hadn’t been his; it was between her and Grayson.

“Let’s see if we can get you patched up,” Kahlee said, holding up the omni-tool and giving him a tired smile.

A number of things flashed through Kai Leng’s mind after Anderson rendered both of his legs effectively useless.

He knew right away the wounds weren’t life-threatening. Both shots had struck muscle; no major arteries had been hit. His legs were bleeding, but not profusely — it would take at least twenty minutes before he lost enough blood to put his life in danger.

Knowing he wasn’t going to die, Kai Leng’s first instinct was to get even. As he crawled along the floor, he glanced back and saw Anderson and Kahlee focusing on the injured boy. Kai Leng figured he had a better than even chance at getting to Grayson’s body — and the pistol beside it — before they noticed him.

But once he had the pistol, what could he do with it? Anderson had chosen not to execute Kai Leng; he had too much of the noble hero in him to kill a helpless opponent. But if Kai Leng got his hands on a weapon and started shooting, he was pretty sure Anderson wouldn’t hesitate to finish him off.

Normally Kai Leng would have taken his chances anyway. But Anderson was wearing an enviro-suit equipped with kinetic barriers. He’d survive the first few shots, giving him a chance to grab either the pistol or shotgun and start firing back. Given Kai Leng’s current state, it didn’t seem like a battle he could win.

He could use the pistol to kill Sanders, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything except pushing Anderson into enough of a rage to kill him. He could use the pistol to threaten Sanders, putting them all into a hostage situation, but that would only give the security guards more time to arrive. Against such overwhelming odds, there could be only one realistic outcome.

Kai Leng realized he wasn’t ready to die just yet, so he decided to ignore the pistol and focus on escape. He continued to crawl on his belly until he disappeared around the corner, moving at a snail’s pace. It wasn’t the pain that slowed him down; mentally, he was strong enough to ignore it. But Anderson was a crafty old bastard — he’d placed his shots carefully, knowing the damage to the muscle tissue would make it impossible for Kai Leng’s legs to bear any weight at all.

The smooth floor of the Academy’s halls offered little purchase for his hands and fingers; escape would be impossible if he had to drag himself along like a slug. But the Academy was a space station — gravitational fields inside the halls were maintained by the facility’s mass effect field generators. In the event of an emergency, it was possible the artificial gravity could fail.

On his way in, Kai Leng had noticed a series of metal rungs running the entire length of the ceiling.

Their purpose was to allow people to move around should the environment suddenly become weightless.

He’d also noticed a small maintenance ladder built into the wall farther up the hall to provide access to an overhead electrical duct. If he remembered correctly, the ladder was on the same side of the corridor as the rungs in the ceiling.

The ladder was less than fifty meters away. Moving as fast as he could, it still took Kai Leng well over a minute to reach it. Then he grabbed the first step and hauled himself up the ladder one rung at a time, his injured legs dragging behind him.

When he reached the ceiling, he wrapped his left arm around the ladder’s topmost rung and reached out to grasp the handhold in the ceiling with his right hand. But he couldn’t quite reach; his fingertips just brushed against the rough, rounded metal.

Refusing to be defeated when possible salvation was only inches away, he lunged toward the handhold, simultaneously pushing off from the ladder with his other arm. His fingers locked around the rung, leaving him dangling by one hand from the ceiling.

He rocked his body back and forth several times to build momentum, then pulled himself up as he swung forward so that he was able to grab the next hold with his left hand. At the same time he let go of the rung in his right and swung his arm forward to grab the next hold in the line. Keeping the rhythm going, he was able to go from rung to rung, his legs dangling below him as he propelled himself along like one of his simian ancestors swinging through the branches of Earth’s long-forgotten jungles.

It didn’t take long for his arms and shoulders to start aching from the strain of supporting the entire weight of his body, but as with the pain from the bullet wounds he simply blocked the sensation out. By the time he reached the security clearance room outside the docking bay, his arms were trembling with fatigue, and his grip finally faltered.

As his fingers slid off the rung, he barely had time to brace himself before his body fell back down to the floor with a heavy thud. The impact sent a fresh wave of pain through his wounded legs. He saw stars, and for several seconds he had to fight to keep from blacking out.

It took him close to a minute before he had recovered enough to press on. His heart was pounding and he was gasping for air, but salvation was in sight. There was no way he could get back up to the rungs in the ceiling; even if he could, his exhausted shoulders and arms would probably refuse to support his weight. With no other options available, he once again began to crawl toward the passage that would take him to the docking ramp.

He passed by the bodies of the two dead guards, inching his way along. He was halfway up the docking ramp — less than ten meters from the shuttle’s airlock — when he heard voices coming from the hall behind him.

“Got another spot of blood here!” someone shouted. “Looks like he’s headed out to the shuttles!”

Kai Leng redoubled his efforts, crawling across the hard metal floor of the docking ramp as fast as he could. Behind him he heard the heavy clunk of boots coming for him.

He reached the shuttle’s airlock just as the first two security guards stepped onto the docking ramp.

“Freeze!” one of them shouted.

Ignoring the order, Kai Leng rolled through the airlock’s door and lunged up to slam his palm against the button halfway up the wall.

Kai Leng wrapped himself into a ball, covering his head with his hands as the guards opened fire. A few stray rounds snuck into the airlock and ricocheted around before the heavy panel slammed shut, but none made contact with their target.

Kai Leng knew he didn’t have much time. The guards’ guns wouldn’t be able to penetrate the hull, and the airlock door was locked. But they could still try to hack it open and get on board before he could take off.

He crawled through the shuttle and up to the forward cabin. Hauling himself into the chair, he punched the controls and fired up the engines.

Fortunately, the Academy had been designed with an exterior docking bay — far less expensive to maintain than a fully enclosed landing port. That meant there were no doors or ceiling that could be closed to prevent his escape.

A few seconds later the vessel lifted off and pulled away from the station. Kai Leng punched in a course for the nearest mass relay, but he knew he was already free and clear, so he didn’t accelerate to FTL speed yet.

Instead, he slid down from the chair and crawled back to the rear of the cabin, where the first-aid kit was still lying on the floor. Anderson had raided it for the rope to tie him up, but there were still basic medical supplies.

He found a tube of medi-gel and smeared it onto his wounds to dull the pain and prevent infection, careful not to overdose and black out. Then he crawled back to the front, hauled himself up into the pilot’s seat, and opened a comm channel.