Rogue Protocol (The Murderbot Diaries #3) - Martha Wells Page 0,33
to have to put Hirune down on the floor and do this the hard way, if I couldn’t find this code.
On yet another channel, Drone One reported that it couldn’t detect any activity suggesting that the combat bots were trying to blast their way through the hatches it had sealed and jammed. The drone had been cut off from the network and couldn’t report further on the movements of any active units. Which meant that the combat bots had stopped to repair each other (Yes, they’re self-repairing unless their main processing center is destroyed. Yes, that is a pain in the ass and also terrifying.) and would soon be taking another route out of the engineering pod to come after us. Like I didn’t have enough to do right now.
Frantically scanning Wilken’s armor, I finally found the right code. That was a relief. I opened a channel and sent the “freeze” command via the feed.
The reason the company doesn’t use powered armor like Wilken’s is not only because the company is cheap. Powered armor like Wilken’s is hackable.
Miki twisted free and stepped backward, still keeping its body between Wilken and Abene. Wilken froze in place (literally) her face grimacing as she shouted into a comm that wasn’t working anymore. (I had cut off her comm and feed; I wanted current developments to be a surprise to Gerth.) The projectile weapon started to fall from Wilken’s frozen fingers and Abene lunged forward and grabbed it.
Now I could see Miki’s damage; it had two energy impacts on its chestplate and its right hand was a stump.
I said, “It’s all right, I’ve locked her armor.” I ran Miki’s feed back, skimming it to see what had happened. Wilken had waited until I was busy with the combat bots, then had returned to Abene and Miki. She had moved toward them fast, saying she had something important to tell them off the comm and feed. Then she had grabbed Abene by her hair. It was still hanging loose, her helmet left behind after I’d broken the release tab to get her away from the bio sampler.
Wilken had pointed the weapon at Abene’s head and said, “Sorry, it’s not personal.” That comment had cost her the kill, it had given Miki time to slam in between them and force the weapon up and away. (Just because Miki was a pet bot that carried things for humans didn’t mean it wasn’t strong enough to take on powered armor.) Wilken had fired the weapon, destroying Miki’s hand, which hadn’t slowed Miki down, either.
Abene saw me and gasped, “Hirune—”
“She’s alive,” I said, because Abene was armed now and traumatized humans with unsecured weapons make me nervous.
Miki said plaintively, “SecUnit, Consultant Wilken tried to shoot Don Abene.”
Abene slung the weapon over her shoulder and hurried to me. She touched Hirune’s face, then looked up at me. “Oh thank you, thank you.”
It’s nice to be thanked. “Miki, damage report.”
“I am at eighty-six percent functional capacity.” It held up its arm stump. “It’s only a flesh wound.”
For fuck’s sake. Abene turned toward it, shocked. “Miki, your poor hand!”
Oh good, another Abene/Miki lovefest. I said, “Miki, take Hirune.”
Miki stepped forward and held out its arms. Hirune was only semiconscious but had a convulsive grip on my jacket. Abene gently pried her hand away and I deposited her into Miki’s arms.
I turned to Wilken. It was the hair-grabbing thing that bothered me. Along with the snide “it’s not personal.” If Wilken had shot with no warning, Abene would be dead and Miki would be in pieces now. But Wilken had wanted Abene to know that she was betrayed. That was personal.
I don’t like personal.
This was another reason I didn’t like human security consultants. Some of them enjoyed their job too much.
I stepped up to Wilken and pulled off the utility harness that held the explosive packs and other gear. She glared at me through the faceplate. I slung the harness over my shoulder and said, “Don Abene, you might not want to watch this.”
Abene turned away from Miki and Hirune. “No!” Then she added more calmly, “I know you’re angry that she sent you to the combat bots, but don’t kill her.”
I wasn’t angry on my account. Being sent into situations to get shot at was literally my job, or had been my job. I thought everything had happened so fast Abene hadn’t had time to process what Wilken had nearly done to her.
It must have been obvious that her first argument was