Page 50 of CHOICE Lover
“One second,” he tells her before wrenching the door open.
An overturned table sits in the center of the room, and a material storage technician is cowering behind it. Two men hover over the frightened tech, their faces partially obscured by ID Scramble-Tech visors and black neckcloths pulled up over their noses. Their attention lands on him. The few inches in front of their faces flicker. Shit. The visor’s scramble field will interfere with his building’s surveillance. They hold silver cases similar to the ones he and Lextr are using for the Jerme experiments, but a little bulkier because they’re equipped for temperature regulation.
Is this a robbery?
The electrical system hisses, and the overhead lights blink off. The building has been hacked. Only a slight glow from the residual phantom voltage illuminates the room.
“Res6?” Electra calls from the hallway.
“Its fine. Stay there,” he shouts.
“That’s our cue,” one of the men shouts. “Time to go.” They switch illumiboxes on, bathing the room in a soft violet light.
Res6 isn’t sure what’s in the cases, but he can’t let them leave. What if they have Electra’s DNA? Or Jerme’s? Not to mention the woman in the hallway whose safety he just assured. Panic claws at his throat. He has to stop them!
He slams the door behind him, barricading them from her. The normally flashing lights on the retina scanner are dead, so he fumbles for the locking mechanism. It doesn’t respond to his fingerprints. “Shit.”
Two against one. No weapons. He can do it.
With his m-volt, he thinks the command: Message Security.There’s been a break-in. Two unarmed men, floor 78.He glances at the dead panel where the room number is displayed. Chamber 14.
He gets an immediate reply.Hold tight. We’re on the way, sir.
Just as he’s about to go on the defensive, another man appears, walking backward out of one of the refrigeration chambers. He’s pointing a sparkler, the automatic stun handpiece only the police are authorized to carry, at Bexly, his organic assets custodian, who is whimpering.
He thinks,There’s a third man with a sparkler. They’ve got Bexly.
He hears,Noted. We’ve called the police.
With a quick glance, Res6 notes the sparkler’s setting is midway between yellow and orange. Red, he guesses, is killing strength. Orange, the upper-level ion stun, temporarily blinds and disorients the target. Yellow—well, he isn’t sure. Less than orange, logically. Still, with any of the settings, a direct hit would likely cause momentary physical impairment and possible residual effects requiring specialized healing.
Electra’s in the hall. The man with the weapon isn’t leaving the room. He’ll just distract them until the police come. It’s not like it’s on kill mode.
Res6 darts forward. The other two techs shout a warning. In his periphery, several cases thud to the floor. Res6 grabs the man’s weapon-holding arm. The sparkler fires, peppering three quick shots across the room. Bexly cries out as the final two shots hit the door and the operating panel of the refrigeration chamber.
He thinks,Bexly’s been hit, assparks spray across the room. Someone crashes into him and he loses his footing, slamming into the man with the sparkler. Bexly scrambles backward through the open door of the chamber, clutching his shoulder, and Res6 and the two men go down in a pile. The first man knocks his head against the wall,disorienting him. Res6 lunges forward, wrenching the weapon out of his hand. With his full weight, he throws himself back, elbowing the other man in the face.
Bone snaps, and the man jerks back in pain. Res6 rolls off him and jumps to his feet. He trains the weapon on the two lying on the floor, sweeping his gaze across the space in search of the third man. His stomach drops as the exterior door clicks closed.
Electra.It’s possible they only have one black-market weapon, but—
Seizing the man with the broken, dripping nose by his collar, he drags him along, sparkler pointed at his head. He shouts over his shoulder to the man on the floor, who is rapidly recovering, “Red is kill, right?”
The man grunts something unintelligible. A second later, the backup power source activates, and the refrigeration units kick back on, whirring. More blinking lights illuminate the dark space. Res6 presses forward, flinging the door open.
“Electra!” To his right, she whimpers.
He shoves the man out in the hall only to be met with the third man, who has dropped the cases at his feet. He’s pressing a second sparkler to her temple.
“Easy,” he urges.
“She’s quite nice,” the man says, brushing the tip of the weapon over her tear-streaked cheek. “Unusual. So LifeLike it almost makes me think she’s real.” He tilts the weapon so Res6 can see the settings. “You’re right, red is kill.”
He should have held her when he had the chance. No, he can’t think like that. The police are on their way. Then when they’re safe, he’ll wrap his arms around her so tight he may never let go. “Please don’t hurt her,” he begs.
“Collect the cases,” the robber holding Electra directs. The man from the refrigeration chamber complies, but the one with the blood seeping through his mask, who Res6 still holds at gunpoint, doesn’t budge.
“Go on,” the leader says. “He won’t kill you. Not when we have his pretty littlemanupartnerhere.”
