That made no sense whatsoever.
Kane slipped down an alleyway, putting his back against the cool concrete. What was wrong with him? Why was he sensing someone powerful watching him? Was he losing his nerve? The idea made his neck hot with anger.
I must think. I must reason this out. I’m forgetting something, and I don’t know what it is.
He could abort the mission—
Pain stabbed in his mind. He groaned, dropping to one knee as nausea filled him.
I will enter the tower. I will find the key.
Abruptly, the pain stopped. It left afterimages on his irises. He felt numb, and Kane realized then what had happened. The dominants had used him. Oran Rva must have ordered the process. The commander had modified his mind. That angered Kane more than anything else could.
He nodded sickly as he realized the feeling of scrutiny must come from that. Deep within him, his subconscious must have known he was a human missile being guided to the target. The dominants hadn’t trusted him with the mission. Instead, they had added reinforcements to his thoughts.
Oran Rva has treated me as a sub-man. I have failed too often.
The bitterness of the thought made Kane’s mouth dry and his eyes burn. He could not turn aside even if he wanted to. The compulsion would force his feet into the tower and to the chief of Nerva Security’s inner sanctum.
“Very well,” Kane growled. “Let’s get this over with.”
He strode out of the alleyway onto the side street, heading briskly for the glass building. A glance over his shoulder surprised Kane. No one followed him. Yet it had felt—
He snarled. He would destroy anyone who got in his way. For the mission, he had unique weapons, one of them a broken-down blaster with the pieces scattered about his person. The pistol was composed of non-metallic material, difficult to trace. Since it didn’t use bullets, there wasn’t any gunpowder for a chem-sniffer to locate.
Kane squared his shoulders, heading for the tower. My moment of destiny has arrived.
***
Kane used his raptor identity card, passing each security check, climbing the floors of the Nerva Tower. Several times, black-clad clones eyed him suspiciously, waving a wand over him. Three times, they’d given him a pat down. Of course, they found nothing. They were too brutishly dumb to imagine a weapon in its various component parts on him. The other items were beyond their primitive sciences to comprehend.
He approached the fourth checkpoint, which was on the Twenty-sixth floor. The guards wore black power armor, aiming machine guns at his chest. He was nearing the heart of the security empire.
“Stop right there, mister.”
Kane glanced at the guard’s nameplate, the one who had spoken with a shoulder amplifier. The plate said BENITO.
Trying to practice obedience, wondering how to feign fear, Kane halted. He no longer wore the turban and robe, having stuffed them into a dispenser in a Nerva Tower restroom. In his gray suit, he looked like a businessman from one of the heavier planets.
“There’s something different about you,” Benito said.
The other guards stirred, their exo-skeleton armor purring with power.
“My ID is sound,” Kane rumbled.
Benito motioned to a woman at a desk staring at a monitor. She stood. Her hair was in a bun, and she wore a knee-length dress. Opening a drawer, the woman took out a thin wand, approaching Kane.
“What is the nature of your visit?” she asked.
“To speak with Mr. Strand,” Kane said.
The woman glanced sharply at the one named Benito.
The seven-foot clone—made bigger in his bulky power armor—checked the palm of his glove. He nodded after a moment.
The woman stepped closer, beginning to wave the wand across Kane’s body. Nothing happened after the first pass.
Kane relaxed, shifting toward the direction he wished to continue.
“You don’t think it’s that easy, do you?” Benito asked.
Kane knew he should respond in a jocular manner. Normally, he would have done just that, easing tensions. This time, however, something clicked in his mind, causing his eyes to narrow and perspiration to dot his skin. The need to act made his stomach seethe. It is time to kill.
With hyper-awareness, Kane observed the woman changing the setting on her wand. She passed it over him again. To Kane’s amazement, it began to beep. Could the primitives have tech to sense his superior weaponry? It seemed preposterous.
With whirring noises in their sub-motors, the power-armored guards stepped closer. The woman backed away from Kane, fear exuding from her pores.
Benito’s visor whirled shut. “What’s it sensing?” the guard asked.
“An energy pack,” she whispered.
“On your stomach,” Benito ordered Kane.
The desire to kill pounded in Kane’s mind. Even so, he managed to say, “I think there’s been a mistake.”
“On your stomach or die,” Benito said, the words amplified by the suit speaker.
“Look, if this is the problem,” Kane said, reaching into his suit.
All around him, armored trigger fingers tightened. The machine guns would spew death in seconds.
Kane froze. “I get it. You’re nervous about something. I’m not going to move.”
“Onto your stomach,” Benito said.
“Of course,” Kane said, lowering himself to his knees. “Can I move my hand out of my suit?”
“Slowly,” Benito said.
Kane slipped the silver ball into the plug, activating the enabler. The silver bands around his muscles buzzed in a delightful manner. He dove onto the floor with his heightened speed.
Three fingers pulled triggers. The machine guns spat bullets, tearing carpet and the flooring underneath. Kane was no longer in their line of impact, though.
The machine guns clicked empty. As the power armor suits swiveled toward him, Kane rolled onto his back. He took out a different, larger silver ball, pressing his thumb into an exact spot. The ball flashed with blue sizzling lines, each writhing to a different power suit.
The guards froze, their motors burned out.
Kane got up fast. The woman tried to run. It seemed like slow motion. Kane stepped near and slapped the back of her head. It launched her off her feet to slam face-first against the carpet, knocking her unconscious.
Kane put the silver ball away. Then, he took out small black discs. He pressed one onto the chest of each guard. Each disc stuck where placed. Tiny green numbers flashed on miniscule screens. Lastly, Kane picked up the unconscious woman, carrying her with him. The commando sprinted down the corridor, moving like the wind. Explosions behind him meant the death of Benito and his fellow armored clones.
As Kane continued to run, he slung the woman onto his right shoulder. Three times, he slapped her butt. “Wake up,” he said with the last hit.
She cried out in dismay, lifting her head.
“Hang on if you want to live.”
She did, clutching his gray suit in desperation.
Relieved of the problem of having to hang on to her, Kane took various innocuous pieces from around his person. He assembled them as he ran, producing the blaster. The heft of it felt good in Kane’s shooting hand.
“You’re crazy,” the woman said. “You have no idea of the security procedures. You can’t win. I suggest you surrender while you can.”
Kane slapped her butt harder than before, making her cry out with true pain. She no longer boasted about Nerva Security.
In a half minute, Kane reached a selected elevator, using the raptor ID to make it ping. Seconds later, the doors opened. He deposited the woman within.
She looked up at him with fear.
He touched her with a special device, causing her to slump onto the floor. He put a disc on the floor with her, activating it before stepping back.
The elevator closed and began to rise. The disc would short-circuit any security readings except that a life form was inside.