Kane strode briskly down a new corridor. A crump of an explosion told him Nerva Security had blown the elevator. It was possible they thought the intruder dead. But they would wonder why their security cameras no longer worked on this floor.
Let them wonder. The silver ball had taken care of the problem.
Soon, Kane reached Door 26-123. First, he unplugged the energy ball. The buzzing in the enabler bands stopped.
Exhaustion swept through him. Kane’s cheeks felt numb. He panted, waiting for the worst of the weakness to pass. He had become accustomed to the enabler on the scout, practicing every day, gaining endurance with it. Still, this was the difficult moment.
Finally, he used the raptor ID on a slot, opening the door, stepping past cleaning equipment. A furnace sat in back. He opened a small panel, tapped in the code and stepped back. The furnace opened, revealing a ghostly stealth suit and climbing gear.
Stripping off his jacket and garments, Kane donned the stealth suit. It covered his head and body. He waited five minutes, finally feeling normal again. Activating the stealth suit, he became invisible, circuits in the suit bending the light to “see” what was behind him.
Taking the climbing gear, he moved deeper into the room. He opened a bigger panel. Cold air whipped within.
Kane eased himself to the opening. It led to the outside of Nerva Tower, the glass exterior. With care, he reached out, attaching the suction grips to a glass pane.
In moments, he climbed the tower like an invisible spider. Monte Carlo spread out far below. In the distance, he spied the Mediterranean Sea.
Kane exuded strength. He always felt immensely powerful on Earth, a weak, 1-G world. No doubt, Nerva Security scrambled to hide Octavian Nerva, Strand and other Methuselah People. His training had indicated the old humans worked at making themselves difficult to hurt, let alone kill. They must be wondering how an intruder could have gotten so deep into the tower structure. It was patently obvious that Strand would rush to his security lair, which was where Kane needed him to be. Minutes before all this, the assassination teams had begun to spread chaos to outer Nerva Security in Monte Carlo. The Methuselah People would be panicking.
Soon enough, Kane reached the Fifty-seventh floor. He found a hidden opening, crawling inside the building to safety. With the stealth suit giving him invisibility, Kane opened a janitor’s door. He strode briskly down a corridor, heading for the target and the key.
Nineteen doors later, Kane used his raptor ID for the last time. The door slid aside, and he stepped into a small corridor. The door slammed shut behind him, and gas billowed into a sealed chamber.
For a stunned second, Kane stood in shock. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He pulled out his blaster, firing at the locking mechanism. While holding his breath against the knockout gas, Kane lowered his shoulder and smashed through the barrier
Three power-armored guards stood before him. Each clone held a tube. They all pulled the triggers at the same time. Each tube made a popping sound.
As fast as he could, Kane plugged the energy ball to the enabler. The buzz began against his muscles. This time, it was too late. Three tangle pods exploded against Kane, wrapping him in strong, sticky strands. He struggled to no avail, toppling onto the floor, webbed within the strands.
The clank of power armor told Kane it was over. He ground his teeth together with rage. This couldn’t be happening. A second later, a stun wand shocked him into unconsciousness.
***
“Finally, you’re awake,” a creaky-voiced old man said.
Kane peeled his eyes open. The grim reality of his failure slammed home. After all he’d done, this old man had outfoxed him. That was unbelievably galling.
Kane lay naked on a frame, his ankles and wrists heavily shackled.
A bent old man watched him. Strand held onto a cane. He had quivering, wrinkled hands. The old man raised the cane and tapped the end against Kane’s chest.
“Your assault wasn’t altogether unexpected,” Strand told him. “I had my doubts anyone could get so far, but I see I was wrong. Did the Throne World order this?”
Kane said nothing.
Strand chuckled. “Of course it did. You would never have attempted it on your own, would you, Kane?”
“I’ve come for the key,” Kane said.
Strand’s blue eyes seemed to burn. “Don’t tell me they unleashed the doomsday machine. Who could have been so foolish?”
“It doesn’t matter what you say. Release me and give me the key.”
Strand’s withered lips drew back. “It all matters, my over-muscled brute. But maybe you can’t understand what I’m saying. Do you realize they programmed you?”
“No,” Kane said.
“Ah, you dislike the idea. Good. Maybe I can deprogram you and learn what has transpired out in the void. Tell me, Kane. Did Oran Rva destroy the Fifth Fleet? Is that wretched Adok starship still intact? I desire knowledge.”
Kane struggled against his bonds.
Strand sighed, snapping his fingers. Two seven-foot clones approached. They held pain inducers.
“We are about to enter a new relationship, Kane. Your old loyalties are about to be severely tested. What do you wish for most, my brutish friend?”
“I must retrieve the key,” Kane said.
“Forget about the key,” Strand said, angrily. “Your last time here on Earth, I helped you defeat Star Watch Intelligence. Now, the Throne World has become ungrateful for all I’ve done. That depresses me. The idea of you retrieving the key for them is outrageous. How could anyone have believed I would give it up?”
“You must comply,” Kane said.
Strand chuckled evilly. “You are a stupid man.”
Kane snarled a reply. A moment later, the pain inducers caused him to writhe on the frame. He did not cry out. Instead, he endured. The New Men knew how to give pain. This was nothing.
“A Rouen Colony stoic, eh?” asked Strand.
Kane opened watery eyes. He had to escape. He must break free. He looked around, studying the room. It was large, filled with esoteric equipment including computers, terminals and spy servers. Five, power armored clones completed the personnel, including the two nearby with the pain wands.
“Out of all the emotions in the universe,” Strand said, “the one I despise most is ingratitude. Have you ever heard of biting the hand that feeds you?”
“I will escape from here, old man.”
“Empty boasts,” Strand said. “I’m surprised at you. But enough of this. You say you want the key?”
“Give it to me.”
“Hmm, you’ve been programmed on a monomaniac setting. Perhaps that accounts for your change in personality. The key is forever lost to you, Kane. Instead, this is a race. Can I extract real information from you before you expire from the treatment? You do realize this is your last day to live, yes?”
Kane struggled against the manacles. The pain inducers stroked him once more. This time, a groan escaped his lips.
“Who won the space battle in ‘C’ Quadrant?” Strand asked.
Kane said nothing.
“Look at me,” Strand said.
Kane opened bleary eyes. Could this be real? Behind Strand, behind the waiting clones, a humanoid moved in a stealth suit. The being was in the same chamber with them. Kane couldn’t actually see anyone, but he recognized the blur and shift of air in the room. It was like the haze on a road on a boiling hot day.
“What is it?” Strand asked. The old man turned around.
As he did, a soft noise began. Each of the clones dropped to the floor, with a bolt of energy burning through armor to strike a heart or braincase. As the last guard clanged onto the floor, dead, Strand groaned in dismay.
A dart stuck in his chest. His withered old hand clutched at it. The old blue eyes burned with intensity just the same.
“A knockout dart,” Strand whispered. Then he, too, slumped onto the floor. He was unconscious, though, not dead.