Page 191 of Red Scale Daddy
“Quietly impatient.”
I lean closer to the grate. The pulse pattern sweeps the corridor in intervals, crossing over a service panel on the far wall. “Can you spoof the scanner?”
“With proper access.”
“Is that panel proper access?”
“It is access.”
“That sounded like yes wearing bad shoes.”
“It is across the turret field.”
I study the corridor, the sweep timing, the turret housings, the distance. “I can reach it.”
“No.”
“You didn’t even pretend to consider it.”
“You cannot outrun automated fire.”
“Don’t need to outrun it. Need to confuse it long enough.”
Pally turns toward me in the cramped shaft. “I am beginning to understand why my daughter sounds exhausted when she argues.”
“She misses me.”
“She believes you are dead.”
The words hit like a fist I let him throw.
My jaw tightens. “Then let’s go ruin that assumption.”
I pull the stolen shock blade from my belt and wedge it into the grate seam.
Pally grabs my wrist. “Dux.”
I look at his hand, then at his face. “Trust me.”
“I do not.”
“Trust that I want to live.”
That reaches him.
His grip loosens.
“Three seconds,” he says. “If I can reach the panel through your distraction, I need three seconds.”
“Take four. I’m generous.”
“You are concussed.”
“Also generous.”
I rip the grate open and launch into the corridor.
The scanner hits me immediately.
