Dark, foul-smelling liquid flooded the area. I smeared some on my clothes, my skin, even through my hair. The stench was overpowering, but it might confuse the hunters’ sensors.

  More minutes ticked by, and it seemed to be working. The search activity of my mechanical hunters became more uncertain, reporting signal degradation and conflicting readings—like they were chasing red herrings. My soil probe was hopelessly imbedded in robot three, so I scrambled to find another weapon.

  I kept pushing through the numbness using sheer will-power, so it was receding, replaced by pins-and-needles as sensation returned to my extremities. I checked a nearby environmental display—thirty-four minutes had elapsed. Just over halfway to the goal.

  Locating a plumbing parts bin, I found a two-foot length of pipe with an elbow on the end. It was a lot lighter than the probe and should prove to make an effective mace.

  Moving more confidently now, I worked my way toward what appeared to be an atmospheric processing station—a large unit that regulated air quality and composition for the hydroponics bay. It was surrounded by a maze of pipes and control systems that could provide both cover and opportunities.

  I was nearly there when a metal arm shot out from behind a column, grabbing me by the shoulder. The fourth hunter lifted me clean off my feet, sensor array glowing bright red as it scanned my face.

  “Target confirmed,” it announced. “Initiating capture protocol.”

  My new weapon was pinned between us, useless at this angle. Using its other limb, the robot grabbed my throat and tightened its grip, cutting off my air. Soon, dark spots danced at the edges of my vision.

  Desperately, I kicked out, my boot connecting with a pipe junction near the atmospheric processor. The fitting cracked, releasing a high-pressure gas with a loud hiss. The sudden noise and movement distracted the robot just enough for me to pull my mace free and start swinging.

  I pummeled the seam between the hunter’s head and body, and it released my throat. Electricity arced, and the robot’s grip loosened. I fell to the ground, gasping for air. The hunter staggered back, systems malfunctioning but not fully disabled.

  It came at me again, movements jerky but determined. I scrambled backward, looking for another opportunity. My back hit the atmospheric processor. The damaged pipe continued to leak gas—oxygen, according to the warning label.

  Pure oxygen. Highly combustible.

  The robot advanced, sparks now coming from its damaged neck joint. I had seconds before it reached me. In a desperate gamble, I swung my mace at the cracked fitting on the oxygen pipe, opening the breach.

  Gas hissed out with greater force, surrounding us both. The hunter took another step, electrical sparks still flying from its damaged systems.

  “Fire in the hole,” I muttered, kicking the robot in the chest and turning away.

  The sparks met oxygen-enriched air. The explosion was immediate and more violent than I’d figured on. A fireball engulfed the robot and threw me backward into a growing bed with burns up my left side. Heat seared my face and arms as the atmospheric processor ruptured, adding fuel to the blaze.

  The fire spread with terrifying speed, racing along irrigation pipes and igniting the more combustible plants. Smoke filled the air, thick and choking. Emergency systems kicked in—klaxons were honking, and sprinklers activated in all areas.

  Weaponless again, I pulled myself up—disoriented but alive. The remaining two hunters would be converging on the explosion. I needed to move.

  Through the smoke and growing chaos, I spotted an emergency exit on the far wall. It would be locked, and I might get zapped for leaving the bay, but the fire might trigger override protocols. I figured at this point, it was worth a shot.

  I stumbled through the burning hydroponics bay, staying low to avoid the worst of the smoke. Plants that represented months of careful cultivation were reduced to ash in seconds. The fire roared like a living thing, consuming everything in its path.

  A robot spoke over the din: “Fire containment protocols initiated. All personnel evacuate immediately.” But before the announcement ended, I was quite happy to hear the Tyrant speaking in the background and sounding frantic.

  “Get—those—fires—out—now. Before I…”

  Passing a glassed-in booth, I noticed the green pulse at my throat had gone dark. It was perfect timing. I reached the emergency exit and found it already opening, automatic systems responding to the fire threat. Beyond was a maintenance corridor, blessedly empty as crew responded to the crisis elsewhere.

  Slipping through, I put distance between myself and the burning hydroponics bay. My lungs burned from smoke inhalation, and burns on my arms and face throbbed painfully. But I was alive, and more importantly, free of the designated hunting ground.

  Now I needed to access the rift lab, and deal with the Tyrant before he realized I’d escaped his game. The ship was in chaos, emergency systems activating throughout. Crew ran past intersections, too busy fighting fires to notice a smoke-smeared and injured man heading deeper into the vessel.

  I found an information terminal and accessed a ship schematic, locating the medical bay. It was three levels down, in the secured science section.

  As I made my way through the ship, I heard fragments of communication from passing crew.

  “Containment failure in Hydroponics Four—”

  “—evacuating entire section—”

  “The Tyrant is furious, wants the prisoner found immediately—”

  Good. Let him be furious. Let him send his remaining hunters searching through a burning hydroponics bay while I wrapped up my work on Jarl.

  I reached a service elevator. The car descended smoothly to the science level. The doors opened onto a sterile white corridor lined with laboratories and specialized facilities.

  A sign on the wall confirmed I was in the right place: RESEARCH - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

  Somewhere in this section—I hoped—the Tyrant’s rift technology waited. That would wreck his crazy plans—and maybe allow me to escape Jarl.

  Chapter 29

  The science section was in disarray. Alarms blared from overhead speakers, their shrill warnings almost deafening. Red emergency lights cast everything in a bloody glow. Crew members rushed through intersections, some carrying equipment, others simply trying to reach safety.

  I ducked into a supply closet as a security team ran past, their footsteps fading quickly down the corridor. My breathing came in ragged gasps, lungs still burning from the smoke. Burns on my arms throbbed with each heartbeat.

  The ship’s public address system crackled to life. The Tyrant could be heard echoing through the passages, sounding tightly controlled but with an undercurrent of rage.

  “Attention all personnel. A dangerous prisoner has escaped during a security exercise. All non-essential crew are ordered to secure all locations immediately. Security teams, implement Protocol Seven.”

  Protocol Seven? Whatever that was, it couldn’t be good for me.

  If I remembered correctly from the briefings back at XCU, the medical research bay should be two intersections ahead, then left through a security checkpoint. Getting through that checkpoint would be the tricky part.

  As I prepared to leave the closet, the door suddenly swung open. I prepared to fight, but stopped in surprise.

  Livy stood there, her copper hair wild around her face. Her torc stone no longer pulsed either, and a fresh cut marked her cheek, but her eyes were bright and fierce, a blazing golden-green. She held a security guard’s shock baton—aimed at me and quivering—in one hand.

  “Tanner!” she exclaimed, clearly as surprised as I was. “I thought you were still in hydroponics.”

  “I redecorated the place and headed down here to find you,” I replied. “How did you escape?”

  She smirked. “I didn’t escape… not exactly. I work for the Tyrant, remember?”

  “Are you still in his employ?”

  Her eyes were furtive. “Look, I did you wrong a few days ago. I apologize. I didn’t think you had a chance. I didn’t think the rebels had a chance at all.”

  “So, you made the safe play and screwed me over,” I finished for her. “Are you trying to switch sides a third time?”

  “Yes. I think… I think you and these rebels might bring the Tyrant down. I would like nothing better.”

  I considered her. She was young, attractive—and she’d fooled me before.

  However, in a way, I could understand her point of view. This was how dictatorships operated. No one really loved their ruler—or at least only a few deluded people did. Most were just afraid. They didn’t know who they could trust. They had to turn each other in, do things they hated, etc. It was part of the game of survival.

  But, all that didn’t mean I wasn’t getting played again, right now.

  “All right,” I said. “Lead the way.”

  Mentally, I’d already decided to flatten Livy the second she showed any signs of duplicity. But I didn’t tell her that. I played the part of the clueless fool all over again. She seemed to buy it. I guess she was used to gullible people, Jarl seemed to be full of them.

  The first thing she did was get us moving down the corridor. “When the fire alarms were triggered, the medical bay went into automatic lockdown.”

  “We need to move,” I said. “The Tyrant’s implemented something called Protocol Seven.”

  Livy’s expression darkened. “That’s the ship-wide security lockdown. All sections sealed, robot guards will be activated throughout. They’ll be hunting for us, room by room.”

  “Then we need to give them more targets.” I nodded to her shock baton. “Where’d you get that?”

  “The guard didn’t need it anymore.” She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask. “The holding cells are on the next level down. If we can reach them, we can free the other prisoners.”

  It was risky, but more allies meant better odds. “Lead the way.”

  We moved through the passages cautiously, using Livy’s knowledge of the security camera layouts to avoid detection. Twice we had to hide as robot patrols passed.

  The service stairs were unguarded, everyone apparently using the main thoroughfares. We descended quickly, emerging onto the prison level. Unlike before, the corridor was empty of guards.

  “That’s not right,” Livy whispered. “There should be at least four security units here.”

  A crash echoed from around the corner, followed by shouts and the distinctive sound of shock batons discharging. We approached cautiously, peering around the edge.

  The scene was one of unexpected pandemonium. Somehow, the holding cell barriers had been deactivated. Prisoners had flooded the corridor, grappling with robot guards. Some prisoners had already acquired weapons—pipes wrenched from walls, medical tools, and two wielded guard-issue shock batons. The robots were outnumbered but inflicting heavy damage, their mechanical strength easily overcoming individual prisoners.

  “What the hell?” I said in surprise.

  Livy’s eyes widened in understanding. “The network! They must have used the fire as cover to implement the contingency plan.”

  “What contingency plan?”

  “A prisoner uprising,” she replied. “We’d discussed it, but I never imagined we’d actually get to try it.”

  A prisoner was thrown against the wall nearby, crumpling to the floor. The robot responsible turned toward us, sensor array glowing bright red as it identified new targets.

  “Unregistered personnel in secure area,” it announced at me. “Surrender immediately.”

  “How about no?” I leapt forward, driving Livy’s shock baton into the robot’s midsection before it could raise its weapon. The electrical discharge scrambled its systems momentarily, giving me the opening to strike again, this time at the reliable target between head and body. The robot collapsed, sparks flying from its damaged neck. It flailed on the deck, and I hopped clear.

  The fallen prisoner staggered to his feet. He turned out to be Soren, the hydroponics engineer from the arena. Now he had a fat lip and a bloody nose.

  “Tanner!” he exclaimed, peering at me. “We thought you were dead!”

  “Not for lack of trying.” I helped him steady himself. “What happened here?”

  “When the alarms went off, someone accessed the cell controls remotely,” he explained. “Barriers went down, collars deactivated. We didn’t ask questions.”

  “Wait, you mean to tell me…” I said, as the magnetic latch easily released, and my collar came open in my hands.

  “Scratch that problem off the list,” Livy said, following suit and stepping forward. “How many are free?”

  “All of us from blocks C and D,” Soren replied. “Maybe sixty people. We’re trying to reach the other detention areas, but security is heavy.”

  The sounds of fighting grew louder around the corner. I picked up the fallen robot’s weapon—a more advanced shock baton with adjustable settings.

  “We need a plan,” I said. “Sixty people attacking randomly won’t accomplish anything except getting themselves killed.”

  Soren nodded. “What then?”

  “We need to reach the bridge,” I said. “To take down the Tyrant directly. If you cut off the head, the body dies.”

  “The bridge is nine levels up,” Livy interjected. “Heavily guarded, with multiple security checkpoints.”

  “Then we’ll need a diversion,” I replied. “Something big enough to draw attention away from our main push.”

  Soren grinned fiercely. “I think I can help with that. Engineering section has been talking about the reactor safety protocols for months. If we could reach the main engine room...”

  “You’re talking about destroying the reactor?” Livy asked, alarmed.

  “Not destroying,” Soren clarified. “Just creating enough sensor anomalies to trigger emergency protocols. The system won’t differentiate between real danger and falsified readings.”

  It was risky, but we needed every advantage. “Do it,” I said. “Take whoever you need. But be careful—if those safety protocols fail and New Horizon drops out of orbit—we all die.”

  Soren nodded grimly. “What about the other prisoners? The ones still locked down?”

  “I’ll handle that,” Livy said. “I know the override sequences for most of the detention blocks.”

  “Meet at access shaft to the upper decks when you’re done,” I told them both. “That’s our rally point for the bridge assault.”

  As they turned to go, I caught Livy’s arm. “Be careful. The Tyrant will realize what we’re doing soon.”

  She caught me off guard with a quick, fierce kiss. “Don’t die before I find you again.” Then she ran off toward the other detention blocks.

  I headed in the opposite direction, toward the main corridor where the fighting was heaviest. The narrow passage was a bottleneck where a group of prisoners battled robot guards. The prisoners had numbers but lacked leadership. Already, three of them lay motionless on the floor.

  I charged from behind. I caught the rearmost robot with a full-power shock to its sensor array. It staggered, systems momentarily scrambled. Before it could recover, I slammed the baton down again, this time finding the gap in its armored plating where power conduits were exposed. The robot collapsed in a shower of sparks.

  “Form a circle!” I shouted to the prisoners. “Surround them! Don’t attack one at a time!”

  Somehow, they heard me through the confusion and responded, encircling the remaining robots. The mechanical guards rotated, trying to track multiple threats simultaneously. Their programming wasn’t designed for handling crowds of ornery humans.

  One prisoner feinted forward, drawing a robot’s attention. As it turned to respond, smashing the prisoner flat, two others attacked from behind. One man rammed a metal pipe into a joint, the other struck with a shock baton. The robot’s movements became a violent shudder, then ceased altogether.

  Within minutes, we had neutralized the remaining guards. The passage was ours.

  “Who’s in charge here?” I asked the assembled prisoners.

  A tall woman with close-cropped gray hair stepped forward. “I was senior chief on the maintenance crew—until I suggested the Tyrant was wasting resources.”

  “Understood,” I replied. “We could use your help. We’re coordinating an assault on the bridge.”

  She nodded approvingly. “About damn time. What do you need from us?”

  “Control of the central security hub,” I said. “It’s three levels up. If we can override from there, we can shut down most of the automated defenses.”

  “Consider it done,” the chief said. She turned to the others. “Grab whatever weapons you can. Form teams of five. We move with Tanner in staggered formation, covering each other. Anyone with security or technical experience, you’re with me.”

  I was impressed with her immediate command presence. “You’ve done this before.”

  A tight smile crossed her face. “Colonial Security Forces, retired. The Tyrant doesn’t know everything about his prisoners.”

  The ship’s announcement system crackled again. The Tyrant was no longer controlled and calm, but now sounded sharp with anger.

  “Attention all security personnel. There is a prisoner uprising in progress. Unfortunately, our ungrateful guests have left me no choice. Lethal force is authorized in all detention sectors. Repeat, lethal force is authorized.”

  As if to emphasize the point, a new alarm began to sound—deeper, more ominous than the fire alarm.

  “That’s the decompression warning,” the maintenance chief said, her face paling. “He’s going to vent this section into space!”

  “Can he do that?” I asked. “With his own crew still aboard?”

  “Using bulkhead air locks strategically to keep his crew alive and the ship aloft, he sure can,” she replied. “Crewmen are in secured areas by now, and his robot guards will be out in force. The only danger is to us.”

  The Tyrant’s announcement was followed by a robot’s. “Decompression sequence initiated in Detention Block E. All personnel evacuate immediately. Sealing in thirty seconds.”