The door blasted open.
“Vik, get back to the other room, they’ve found us.” It was Nils. He grabbed her arm. She saw a look pass between him and Vikram, but neither of them had time for words. “She’s coming too.”
With Nils’s hand gripping her upper arm she hobbled through the corridor. Pain shot up her legs, her bad leg throbbed. She held onto the sensation. For now, at least, she was alive. Vikram grabbed her elbow, supporting her. Nils pulled her into the room where they had first arrived. Breaking daylight filtered inside, illuminating the dishevelled bedding, the broken benches and grow-boxes, the guns. Drake had torn away part of the boarding and was stationed at a gap in the window-wall. The large-barrelled gun in her arms angled downwards. Rikard was on the other side in an identical pose. Ilona was checking her weapon. Pekko barked into a scarab. When he saw them, he dropped the scarab and launched himself at Vikram, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him violently.
“This is your fault! You brought them here!”
Vikram landed a fist into Pekko’s stomach. Adelaide jerked forward but Nils held her fast. Pekko let go of Vikram. A cold rage locked in his eyes. The next second his gun was pointing at Vikram’s head.
“Traitor,” he spat.
“Don’t you dare!” yelled Drake. Ilona’s head jerked up and her hands stilled. Rikard’s eyes glanced away from the window-wall only for a second.
“I had no idea they would find us,” Vikram snarled. His face was contorted with equal rage. His hands dropped at his sides, fists clenched but helpless. The gun pushed into Vikram’s temple. The two men were inches apart. Blood rushed to Adelaide’s face.
“Pekko he’s telling the truth! He didn’t know. The tracker’s not on his neck, it’s in his blood. That’s how they always find people.”
“And why didn’t you say something before, Citizen?” The gun did not move. Pekko’s voice was quiet now, quiet and cold. “Instead of playing mad and half-dead.”
“I’d hardly tell you anything if I thought I was going to be rescued, would I?”
Pekko’s grip on the gun tightened.
“Would I?” she shouted.
Nils spoke with forced calmness. “Pekko, there’s no time for this now. They’re sending skadi into the building. We’re going to have to defend the floor. We need posts. Vikram’s with us. If he’s not, the skadi will kill him anyway.”
The tension between Pekko and Vikram was electric. Adelaide’s heart thumped in her chest. She did not dare to say anything further.
It was none of them, but a voice from outside that made Pekko lower the gun. The skadi spoke through a tannoy. Travelling up from the surface, the words sounded distorted.
“You are surrounded. You have ten minutes to release the hostage, or we will send enforcements in. No prisoners will be taken. I repeat, you are surrounded…”
Releasing Vikram, Pekko moved with sudden speed. She saw his intent and ducked a fraction too late to avoid him altogether; the barrel of the gun struck her shoulder. She fell against the wall, winded by the strength of the blow.
“Tie her up!” yelled Pekko.
Nils secured her wrists, but loosely.
“Keep your head down or you’ll get killed,” he muttered. “The tower’s surrounded by skadi. I don’t think they’re here to negotiate.”
Over Nils’s shoulder she met Vikram’s eyes, bright with anguish and fury.
Pekko scooped up the scarab and pressed it hard to his ear. His face was taut with tension.
“Sorren, what’s going on? How long until you get here?”
All eyes were on Pekko now.
“We’ve got at least a dozen skadi vehicles down there, I’ve got zero contact with the plant. What the fuck d’you mean you can’t — Sorren?”
Pekko paused, took the scarab from his ear, shook it.
“Sorren? Sorren. I can’t hear you. Get Maak on for me. You got that? Get Maak. Sorren—”
He lowered the scarab. Tinny pops came out of its speaker. Static mingled with raised voices, with shouts. Nobody said anything. Pekko, facing away from them all, seemed to have frozen. Then he switched off the scarab and slid it into a pocket. He did not spare Adelaide another glance.
The ten minutes passed slowly. Adelaide knew that there was no point in asking if the skadi would negotiate. There were no further announcements. Finally Drake said that the skadi were moving in. Rikard was allocated to guard Adelaide. None of it felt real. She watched the others leave the room, and was conscious only of a quiet disbelief.
44 ¦ VIKRAM
They ran down the treacherous stairs as the skadi ran up. There was no caution from the skadi; they had no need for subtlety now.
The weapon in Vikram’s hands was heavier than the one he’d held last time. One part of his mind looked at its specification and noted the weight, the heft, the resistance of the trigger whilst the other listened to the mounting skadi steps and wondered where Pekko had got their guns from, if he had bribed a skad, or if the Rochs had supplied them.
They had one advantage, being upstairs and the skadi being down, and knowing the place as the skadi did not, but it would only be an advantage whilst the enemy kept the attack inside.
“Everyone take one of these.” Pekko passed gas masks to the others and threw one at Vikram. He pulled it over his head and wiped a sleeve over the smeary visor.
They waited, halfway between their base and the surface. They took up positions overlooking a landing where the corridor spilled into a narrow funnel. They would see the skadi approach before the skadi could see them. They waited.
He could hear the shallowness of the others’ breathing. A tiny cough from Drake, suppressed. Pekko fidgeting with the safety catch of his gun.
He heard pounding boots. The sound drummed like Vikram’s own heartbeat. Like Juraj’s crazed escort of rafters on the night of the firefight.
They were coming.
The first man appeared. Black gear, mask, rifle. He hurled a canister and retreated. A swirl of gas rose up, the canister hissing as it expelled its contents. Drake touched her mask nervously. Vikram felt his chest constrict and forced himself to breathe.
Without warning Pekko opened fire, screaming as he did so. Skadi emerged through the dispelling gas. When Vikram started shooting he felt nothing but inevitability, as though he’d walked a full circle and found himself exactly where he had started: home. He squeezed the trigger and the gun flashed and the bolts slapped into the heads of oncoming men.
You don’t make your own luck, he thought. That’s all a lie.
The confined space exploded with ricocheting gunfire. The sound was phenomenal. There was no light, no true darkness. A whirl of grey shadows, moving, running, flying to the ground where they stopped, dead or injured. He heard Nils hiss and knew his friend was hit but Nils kept shooting. Vikram did not see the eyes of any of the men he killed, except one who looked straight in his direction as though he could see Vikram, really see him, not just the mouth of his gun from his concealed hole.
He did not count the men as they funnelled into the death-trap. He reminded himself that each man was a skad, without any comprehension of the worth of a life. He reminded himself he was fighting for his own life and that of his friends. Then his mind went blank and his muscles took over.
They heard the sounds of the skadi running up other stairwells, only to discover that the way was blocked with rubble and there was no route up except via the five of them.
A point came when they realized all the shots were coming from their side and ceased. They waited and listened for a second wave. It didn’t come.