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Glancing in as he passed, he stopped and stared.
The gym hadn t fared as well as the Engine room. Here the floor was pushed right up
under the pool, cracking the tiles and leaving it lopsided, half of the water covering the gym
floor. Dumbbells and other gym paraphernalia were littered over the floor.
Shaking his head, he ran past the cabins, not bothering to look into them, and hurried
into the Control room.
*****
Underground Level Six, The Garrison
Control Room
 Raylor! he shouted.  Quick! Get the console above the monitors open and Raylor?
He looked around.  Raylor?
The Control room was empty.
 Raylor? Thrower turned full circle, looking around the room.
Raylor was gone. But where? He was supposed to stay in the Control room and
monitor the communications.
Not only that, but the monitors were flickering.
 Skipper? Thrower demanded.  What happened here? Where s Raylor?
Silence greeted him, and looking up at the huge A.I. in the roof, Thrower saw the red
light flickering on it. The A.I. was damaged, and that meant the Guards were up crap creek
without a paddle.
Shaking his head, Thrower strode across to the consoles above the monitors and opened
them. Raylor he would have to worry about later. The A.I. was out of his league. Right now,
The Garrison: Catwalk 22
he had to establish communications with Riggeur quickly, before Isles found him AWOL and
decided to shoot him.
Reaching in, he traced his finger over the wires and discs, identifying the connecting
wires to certain discs. With great care he withdrew two discs and looked for the green wires
behind them. Little sparks emanated from them as he brought them forward.
Taking a deep breath, he picked up the little cutting device from the floor of the console
and did a quick cut of the wires.
The resulting sparks burnt his fingers and he swore. Holding the wires gingerly
between his fingers and thumbs, he eyed them grimly. To join them could mean a shock. To
prevent unauthorized tampering of the system, it had been rigged to be unpleasant to anyone
who tried. He was unauthorized and trying. A recipe for disaster.
Taking another deep breath, he moved suddenly. Forcing the wires together, he gave it
one quick twist as he did so, looping them together loosely right before the sizzling blast sent
him hurtling back halfway across the room.
Stars exploded before his eyes, and his hands tingled. Gasping, he lay on his back
staring up at the ceiling. His ears buzzed, and his heart pounded. The sparking sound still
came from the consoles.
He had, in effect, electrocuted himself. Not enough to kill him, but enough to make him
feel a might shaky as he pushed himself up onto his feet. His thumbs actually had a black
powder on them, the result of the electricity sizzling across his skin cells.
This was what Isles meant as being too dangerous. It could have killed him.
What is life if you didn t live it dangerously? Thrower grinned weakly.
Staggering back to the console, he gazed up at the sparking wires. Dare he touch it
again? His flesh shrank from the thought. One of the monitors flicked, and Thrower sat down
and keyed in the comchip codes.
Static came from the once silent monitor. A faint voice stuttered and died again.
Frowning, Thrower tried different combinations. Any second he expected Isles to come
running into the Control room breathing fire and brimstone, but so far so good.
This time the voice of Riggeur was stronger. Thrower breathed a sigh of relief. His
gamble had worked he now had communications with Riggeur.
Touching the comchip on the base of his neck,  Thrower here, Captain Riggeur. I have
communication established with you and will soon have it with the others. We re all alive
after that last quake and 
 Well, well, a nasally voice sneered.  What do we have here?
 One guard, all on his lonesome, a deeper voice growled.
Prisoners! Riggeur had said prisoners were loose and they must have gotten up here!
Goddamn! Reaching for his phaser, Thrower cursed as his hand encountered his suit. The
phaser was beneath it.
His day just kept getting worse.
Spinning around on his chair, he looked at the three prisoners. And blinked. And
grinned.
Then again, it might have just taken a turn for the better.
*****
Angela Verdenius 23
She was going to kill him. She was going to pound him to a bloody pulp and kick his [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]