Expendable - James Alan Gardner [127]
In the Stairwell
I had eighty storeys of ramps ahead of me. No matter how pressed for time I might be, running was out of the question; I settled for a light jog and wondered how long I’d be able to keep it up.
Far above, the tower ramps clattered with the clack of glass footfalls. Tobit’s speech had inspired the ancestors so much, they hadn’t stopped after breaking down the door—they were still charging ahead, howling to spill French blood at Agincourt or whatever they thought they were doing. I didn’t try to keep up with them; not only were they stronger and faster than my mere flesh, they were less worried about running out of wind. The stairwell burned with the same radiation as the main tower rooms. Even as they raced along the ramps, the ancestors were recharging, keeping themselves powered.
There was another reason I didn’t try to catch up with the ancestors: I needed time to decide how to handle Jelca. First, grab his stunner—that was obvious. And I had one strong advantage over him: I could see clearly through the tinted visor of Tobit’s helmet. Jelca, on the other hand, would be half-blind with the radiation suit covering his eyes…like looking through glittery cotton cloth. In a straight fistfight, the odds were stacked in my favor.
As long as he didn’t shoot me first. One sonic blast, and I’d be unconscious for six hours…or until Jelca killed me, whichever came first.
How could I avoid getting shot? Stealth if possible. If I could sneak up and take him down fast, I had nothing to worry about; but if he saw me first….
“Idiot,” I said aloud. “Why didn’t you pick up your own stunner?” Yet the prospect of using the same weapon as Jelca filled me with revulsion. I knew I was being irresponsible—considering the stakes, I should have been ruthlessly willing to shoot Jelca in the back if that’s what it took. But some subconscious inhibition had stopped me from thinking about my own stunner until now—and I had no time left to go back for the gun.
Was there anything else I could use as a weapon? I took a mental inventory of my belt pouches, now tucked under the radiation shirt and pants. What was I carrying? Things for taking soil samples, a small disk camera, my first aid kit…
…which contained the scalpel….
I laughed out loud. There in the stairwell, I leaned against the wall and laughed. Unable to stop giggling, I untucked my lamé shirt tail, opened a pouch, and pulled out the knife.
The scalpel.
“Fair’s fair,” I said to the walls. “Fair’s fair.”
I didn’t know what I meant by that.
To give the blade some weight, I taped some mineral sample tubes to its handle. The tubes were only the size of my fingers, but they were lead-lined in case they had to hold radioactive materials. When I was finished, the knife was well-balanced and heavy, suitable for stabbing or throwing. I found myself tempted to hold it up and say, “Yarrun, I owe you this.” But I didn’t do it. There comes a time when we outgrow dramatic gestures.
At the Top of the Ramp
Halfway up the tower, I passed the first glass body: an ancestor with no sign of injury. There were two more another floor up. I stopped briefly to examine them. They muttered something and turned their backs on me.
“Tired of going up ramps?” I asked. “You and me both.”
Their initial enthusiasm had eroded. Who wouldn’t get bored, racing up storey after storey, with no change of scenery? The closer I got to the top, the more bodies I found…until on the eightieth floor, I came to the last ancestor, lying in the open doorway that led out of the stairwell. He must have disciplined himself to stay with the task, all the way hoping to find some stirring amusement at the end of the trip. When he reached the finish, only to find a room exactly like the ones downstairs, he had sunk to his knees in disappointment.
Welcome to the Explorer Corps, I thought.
I didn’t charge out onto the floor. Jelca might have heard the door open; even now he might be lying in ambush, ready to blast me into unconsciousness. I waited, listening. I listened for five