“Think I got it?”
If you’d only nicked it, it would be screaming bloody hell. Either it’s sleeping or you missed completely.” Ghost paused. “We’ll find out once we’re inside. Dart the rest.” The Narcoject Lethe huffed four more times, spitting its tranquillizer darts at four more cockatrices. Sam changed clips and fired five more rounds. Another clip change was required before he darted the final two. Each hit had as little obvious effect as the first.
“All of them?”
“Far as I can see.”
“Let’s go,” Ghost said, leading the way.
The gate had a simple keypad lock, but it might be more than enough to delay them until the patrol showed up. Ghost attached an unscrambler to the lock. The box hummed and digits flashed across its screen. In just under two minutes, the numbers locked into a match for the combination and the bolt snicked open. They heard a loud guffaw as one of the guards responded to a companion’s joke.
With discovery marching toward them, they entered the enclosure, Sam was afraid that one or more of the beasts would leap up and charge them, but nothing moved. The pen was rank with a musty smell that vaguely reminded him of the feathered serpent Tessien, but less savory. Sam wondered if the odor was the feathers, the scales, the combination, or just the smell of magic. One by one, he gathered up his darts with a three-pronged gripper, careful not to let his skin actually touch any part of the beasts. The task should not have been difficult, but his fear, heightened by the approach of the security patrol, made him fumble-fingered. He didn’t want to leave empty darts lying about the enclosure as evidence that the cockatrices’ sleep had been enforced.
The last dart recovered, he joined Ghost at the pasaage into the nesting area. The Indian’s left hand held an Ingram smartgun and his right rested against the swinging door. With a nod to Sam, he pushed it, holding it open as he listened. Ghost motioned Sam forward with his head and let Sam take the weight of the door. The Indian moved into the deep darkness of the pens.
Sam waited at the door, his starlight goggles unable to penetrate the gloom of the deeply recessed parts of the nesting area. Light from beyond silhouetted Ghost moving carefully across the area; he was heading for the transparent wall that separated the nests from the handlers’ area. A rustle in the darkness made Sam shudder. At least one cockatrice was inside with them. Ghost heard it too, and swiveled to face the explosion of feathers and scaly fury that launched itself at him.
Standing in the doorway, unwilling to tangle with the beast and even more unwilling to abandon Ghost, Sam watched as the Indian dodged the first attack. The creature landed on two strong, heavily taloned legs and turned swiftly. Its beaked head searched for the man who had invaded its nest. It stalked forward, hissing and lashing its tail. Ghost circled warily, trying to keep enough room to maneuver. His second Ingram was in his other hand; he held both weapons out in front of him but didn’t shoot.
The noise, Sam realized, would give them away. Sam raised his own weapon, but could not find a clear shot as the cockatrice rushed Ghost and they began a whirling dance of strike and counter. Parrying with his weapons and dodging the paranimal’s attacks by sheer speed, the samurai was being forced deeper into the nest, further into the darkness and away from the clear area in the center. Sooner or later he would falter or slip.
Knowing that hitting Ghost could be lethal, Sam fired the Lethe, but the two combatants continued their frenetic action. He had only two more shots in the clip and the guards were getting closer. Sam fired again. The cockatrice leapt high, striking out at Ghost with its tail. The samurai ducked underneath and dove back toward the open center of the chamber. The creature landed heavily, almost falling. It turned and took a step toward Ghost before collapsing in a heap to the floor.
Sam slipped fully into the pen and let the door swing down. He leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. They had come near disaster; he could see his first dart embedded in Ghost’s belt.
As Sam’s breathing slowed, he heard the guard patrol pass by outside, They gave no indication that they were aware of the intruders as they tramped on to the next part of their sweep. It would be another half-hour before the guards returned to the building.
Though Sam and Ghost were within the walls of the security building, they were still isolated from the rest of the structure. From their position inside the nesting area, they could see the staging area where the cockatrice handlers kept their rigid leashes, thick, insulated gloves, and control prods. A closed door promised access to the rest of the building. Their access to the handlers’ area was blocked by a sealed access port, its lock unreachable though the transparent plastic. Unless Dodger had made it through the system, this was as far as they could go.
Ghost nudged Sam and pointed at a security camera turning their way. The lens rotated as it focused on them, a mechanical eye squinting to see more clearly. Were they hosed? The lock unbolted, giving him his answer. Dodger had made it through to take control of the building’s security systems. Ghost waved to the camera and the ready light blinked three times in the agreed-upon signal. Before Sam registered the third blink, Ghost was halfway to the door. Sam followed, fumbling with the magazine of his Lethe.
They walked the corridor cautiously, knowing a few people were still in the building. As long as Dodger was on overwatch they would set off no alarms, but they needed to take precautions to avoid meeting any United Oil personnel. They headed for the day offices, avoiding the main monitor room, the barracks wing, and the ready room. Ghost stopped short at the open door to the reception area, then jumped swiftly across the opening and motioned for Sam to move up and peer in.
The light spilling from the doorway was not a forgotten lamp, as he had hoped. A man was working at a terminal in the reception area, effectively blocking access to the inner offices, The man’s short sleeved shirt was not the severe military cut of security personnel uniforms, so he was probably just a clerk trying to score points with his boss pulling overtime.
Ghost tapped his Ingram with his finger, pointing at Sam then at the man. Sam shook his bead. They didn’t know what the man was working on; an interruption might set off an alarm, especially if he was networking interactively, Dodger wouldn’t be able to filter out the reactions of anyone in communication with the clerk. Sam pointed at Ghost and the man before crossing his own wrists in front of him. Ghost nodded in understanding and stole into the room.
A reflection on the computer screen must have betray the Indian’s approach. Before Ghost could grip the chair pull the clerk away from the keyboard, the man turned head. His eyes narrowed as he realized he faced an intruder and he shot a hand toward the jacket draped on the desk. Ghost cut past the chair and thwarted the man’s attempt by slamming his left-hand Ingram onto the corporate’s wrist. The violent action dislodged the holstered gun that had lain hidden in the folds of the garment. Pinning the man’s wrist to the desk with one gun, Ghost forced the man’s chin upwards with the barrel of the other Ingram.