and leaped over the desk she had leaned on, not realizing that Kyung had been there all along. She fired into its back, killing it instantly. The area went silent then, and Kyung began trembling, not sure where the second one was and wondering if she would make it out after all. The recent movement had irritated her legs, and the drugs failed to curb all the pain so she bit her lip, doing everything she could to will it away, if even for just a few seconds so she wouldn’t pass out again. Not now. Maybe in a little while, after she had found someplace to hide, to hole up and think about the next move. Kyung heard something and raised her carbine when another soldier crawled from around the corner, his armor shattered and helmet gone.
“Help me,” he said.
“How did you know I spoke English?” she asked
This time when Kyung fired, the shock had worn off. She didn’t even flinch when the thing thrashed on the floor before dying, its transformation less spectacular now that it was expected.
“Perfect marksmanship,” said the computer.
Kyung pulled the carbine’s sling over her shoulder and moved onto her stomach. “Any sign of doors?” she asked.
“Keep heading on the course you were originally on, Miss Kyung; there are several air locks in that direction. Would you like me to tell you what I found?”
“Sure,” she grunted, pulling herself along. “Tell me.”
“I’ve been scanning the downloaded records and found a map of the facility. According to this, at the rear of the site is a maintenance and storage area. It also looks like there is a tunnel from there to Pak Chong Hui, a power conduit. It makes sense, Miss, since we saw no indications of aboveground towers; power must have been routed underground, and they would have needed tunnel access for routine maintenance.”
“How long a tunnel?” she asked.
“Ten-point-eight kilometers, Miss Kyung. But there’s one issue that concerns me.”
“What?”
The suit computer cleared its throat, and she almost laughed. It actually cleared its throat! “Our only route to the maintenance area passes an entrance to the main production hall, the place where these creatures are most likely manufactured.”
* * *
“How were they to be controlled?” Kyung whispered. She hid under a desk, a rotting carpet pulled over her so she could watch, undetected, from a hundred meters away. Three of the dog-things sat outside the production hall, the thick glass of its entryway smashed and metal fittings shredded from what looked like claw and teeth marks. All three creatures were asleep. But Kyung didn’t want to open fire yet; she couldn’t see inside the production area, and there could have been anywhere from zero to a hundred more, and the noise of fléchettes might have brought them, a whole army for all she knew. At least the door to the maintenance area looked unharmed, which brought a feeling of hope when she saw it, until Kyung realized that it was closed—and probably locked—so she might need even more time to allow her computer to open it once things started moving.
“According to the files, it was to be done using coded voice commands.” The computer was on whisper mode so Kyung had to concentrate to hear. “I have the files containing those codes, but they’re encrypted with algorithms I’ve never encountered, probably layered, and I speculate it would take time to break. It’s unlikely that any new or old standard corporate codes would work.”
“But could you do it?” she asked.
“I could try, Miss Kyung. It will require power resources and an increased drain on the fuel cell, which is already at sixty percent.”
Kyung nodded. “Do it. Cut off all unnecessary suit systems, including climate control; it’s not too cold now that we’re in this place.” She thought for a moment and then realized something. “Wait. I want you to do one more thing.”
“Yes, Miss Kyung?”
“Since you’re a prototype, we gave you a