Eric’s senses and reflexes reasserted themselves. He shoved his foot against the threshold to keep the door in place and scanned the corridor. Empty, but that didn’t mean safe. The Vitae had to be watching them. There was nothing he could do about that.
Eric sprinted down the hall, vaguely aware of running footsteps behind him. From here, he could see the door to the main station shut tight. He did not allow himself to think about how the floor of the empty corridor could be brought to life at the touch of a remote key.
Eric skidded to a halt in front of the door. There was no time for finesse or distraction. He laid his palms on the thin line where the door met the wall and reached deep into the back of his mind, down into his soul where his power gift lay. He opened a path for it to stretch down his arms and out through his fingertips. Its tendrils coiled around the slender, metallic bars that held the door shut.
“Break,” he ordered.
His gift seized the bars. Eric’s heart froze. The lock cracked sharply and his heart beat again, hammering against his ribs. Eric pressed hard against the door and leaned sideways. The door slid back. Pain shot up his legs and Eric doubled over. A hand seized his arm, dragging him into the open station hallway.
“Which way out!” The Notouch stared wildly around her.
For a second, Eric wondered what she was talking about, then he remembered she had no idea where she was. He had no time to explain. There were six stories of station between him and the dock that held the U-Kenai. A call had probably already gone down to security.
They’ll hold the ship, seal the docks. Watch both. They’ll close my access to the networks, and watch the halls. When they see me, they’ll come get me. He glanced up at the security cameras. Hello, there.
His mind raced down unfamiliar paths. There’ll be two guards, three, maybe. Darts, tasers, and uniforms. Orders to take me quietly. Don’t panic the paying customers. He eyed the passing crowd, each one of them a paying customer. Don’t damage the goods either, I hope.
Eric ran. He dived into the crowd, shoving aside anyone who didn’t get out of the way fast enough. He risked a glance behind him. Arla followed his mad dash, almost overtaking him.
The jumble of faces and colors broke apart to give him a clear path to the farthest corridor entrance and he raced toward it.
Footsteps pounded the floor behind him and he fervently hoped they were Arla’s. Eric pushed a man in trader’s motley into the wall and hurdled a maintenance drone. The footsteps closed, but no shouts to stop came.
Eric ducked around a left-hand corner and yanked on the emergency override for the security door. Alarms blared and the door came open. Eric swung himself up the maintenance ladder. As he did, he saw Arla duck through the threshold, her poncho flapping around her. She took the time to slam the door shut before she grabbed the ladder rungs to follow him.
Up. All the way up, until the metal rungs bit into his hands and his heart pounded in his throat.
They could shut the hatches, trap us. Send guards in to get us. No. They figure why bother? They know where I’m going. Only one place I could be going from here. They’ll already have guards there. Why not wait for me to turn up?
Guards trained to use their weapons. The ones who’ve been told by the Rhudolant Vitae I’m unarmed and she’s primitive and neither of us know what we’re doing.
Idiots. You’ve only seen one part of my life.
Three bulkheads passed by them. Four.
“How big is this place?” gasped the Arla.
Eric didn’t have the breath to reply.
Five. Six. He stepped off the ladder and pulled the release for the door. It slid aside. Past it waited the corridor to the airlock that was sealed to his ship. The big hatch to the main station had been closed. A red light shone on the airlock door. Sealed for security reasons. Two men and a woman in crisp, black coveralls stood between him and the airlock. All three of them were armed with tasers, which were out and ready.
Eric’s ears rang from exertion and adrenaline. “Soldiers,” he said to Arla between gulps of air. “The things in their hands are distance weapons, like slings.”
Do I still remember how to fight? He raised his hands slowly until they were over his head. Do I still remember anything?
“That’s it,” said the broader of the two men. “Easy now. You too, woman. Hands up.”
Arla stared at the guard, and then at Eric, her mouth open in disdain and shock.
“Don’t do it,” he said urgently.
“Then who will?”
Arla ripped her homemade sling off her belt and whirled it over her head. Before she brought it down, the woman guard took her aim calmly and fired. The taser wires snaked out of the barrel and sank into Arla’s chest. The shock ran into her and she screamed. The sling crashed against the floor and Arla dropped next to it, curled up like a fetus. All the guards watched her fall.