Scattered Suns - Kevin J. Anderson [181]
“Just look at all this wasted space. You know, the EDF could convert these cells to private luxury quarters, open the base as a hotel,” Rlinda quipped, trying to keep her tone light. “Or do you guys really use your detention level much here?”
Not bothering to answer, the grim guards kept marching. The tall man with the full face helmet walked closest to Rlinda and BeBob, as if taking personal charge of them.
As they neared the brig level, the helmeted guard slowed his pace. She looked up at him as he adjusted his facemask, saw only brown eyes with a strange expression. Before she could crystallize her own suspicions, the guard reached into his uniform and triggered a high-powered gas canister.
White smoke jetted out in an expanding plume that filled the confined tunnel, swiftly enveloping the other guards. They coughed and struggled, turning with surprised outcries toward their comrade. Rlinda tried to shout a question, but the chemical filled her lungs, her eyes, her nose. She never imagined that sleeping gas could knock a person out so quickly—
Rlinda woke, spluttering. Her vision took a long time to clear. She seemed to be swaying from side to side, hanging facedown. Her hands and legs were dangling, and the floor moved beneath her like a conveyor belt. That couldn’t be right. Lunar gravity was much lower than Earth’s, but even so she shouldn’t have felt so light.
She might have figured it out faster if the situation hadn’t been so bizarre: A uniformed man was carrying her along like a piece of luggage. An antigrav strap, traditionally used to haul heavy crates, had been attached to her back like a handle. She’d never thought about using the devices for carrying people, but the lifter had nullified her bulk so that she weighed nothing at all.
The man strode along at a brisk pace. She squirmed, looking to her left, and saw BeBob similarly trussed up and carried in the man’s other hand. She finally glanced up.
Davlin Lotze wore a standard EDF guard uniform, holding the two of them as if they were bulky packages. His expression was unreadable. “Are you ready to walk for yourselves now? We’ll make better time that way.”
Looking at Davlin, she decided to hold back her questions. Now was not the time. “Come on, BeBob, wake up! We’ve got to haul ass out of here.”
Davlin disconnected the cargo lifters, and Rlinda felt her body settle back to the ground again. “Sorry it took me so long, but this was the best I could do on short notice.”
She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his scarred cheek. “I never really thought escape was one of our alternatives.”
“Now it’s your only one. And I submit that it’s better than summary execution or permanent penal servitude.”
“Sounds okay by me,” BeBob said.
Davlin gestured forward. “We’re almost to the docking bay. We’ll take the two ships and get out of here.”
“But how did you get in? How did you pass through security at the Moon base? Where did you get a uniform?”
“I’ve always had one, though I upgraded to silver beret status a long time ago,” Davlin said, then shushed her. “Don’t ask too many questions. We’ve only got about ten minutes to finish up here.”
“What happens in ten minutes?” BeBob asked, fighting to keep his balance but weaving like a drunkard.
“All hell breaks loose. That anesthetic gas should be wearing off on the other stunned guards, so we’re bound to hear alarms soon.” His voice sounded much too calm for the emergency. “The base will be slow to react, though—all Moon base personnel, without exception, are attending an emergency all-hands meeting. Apparently, General Lanyan himself called it only a few minutes ago.”
“Convenient timing.” Rlinda made a rude noise. “One of his pep talks?”
Finally, Davlin flashed a small smile. “Oh, the General will be as surprised as everyone else when he receives the notice. He doesn’t know anything about it. The good news is that the meeting’s on the other side of the base. Now, get into the docking