Re-Coil - J.T. Nicholas Page 0,41

hundred units in the building. It took Sarah less than a second to send out a ping to each of those units, requesting access. Any one of those hundred tenants could easily have activated the building’s door camera, taken a look, and promptly ignored us. Dozens, maybe scores, had probably done just that. But it only took one person. One person who was expecting a delivery, or a friend to show up, or maybe just someone who reacted on instinct when their implant pinged them with a request to enter the building. Whatever the case, a chime sounded from the door as the lock disengaged.

“How did you know that would work?” Chan asked, surprise writ large on her face.

“There’s more than one type of salvage.” I shrugged. “I worked repo a long time ago. Lots of hab sections use similar gatekeepers. I can’t hack the tech, but anything that allows for human interface has one big weakness.”

“What’s that?” There was genuine curiosity in her voice. No doubt she could have brute-force hacked the door nearly as quickly, but the professional in her was always looking for a better way.

I grinned. “People are stupid.” I opened the door and motioned her inside. “Well, not all people. But in a crowd of a hundred, you’ll always find someone who’ll take the easiest path. In this case, that’s just saying ‘yes’ to the random access request, rather than taking the time to see who might be at the door.”

Chan called the elevator as soon as we entered the building and registered on the guest network. It was waiting for us by the time we reached the banks. We were both silent as the elevator climbed to the eighth floor. I felt a tension building in my shoulders as the doors opened on a neat hallway with doors down either side. Despite my earlier words to Chan, Copeland was our only real chance at finding out what had happened to us, to Miller, to Harper, to all those people aboard that shuttle. I had no idea what I was going to say to him, how we could convince him to even talk to us in the first place. I just knew that we had to get that information, had to find out the truth. Miller had died—truly died—for it, and Harper was still missing. Someone had to answer for that. Someone had to pay for that.

My hands curled slowly into fists, tightening until my arms started to tremble. I drew a deep, steadying breath and released it as we stepped into the hall, forcing my fingers to unknot. “Are you ready for this?” I asked Chan.

She didn’t say anything, but she nodded once, shortly. I could see the same anger, the same determination burning in her eyes. The time for answers had come, and I knew then that we were both willing to do anything to get them. The idea of it was slightly nauseating, but I knew it to be true. I sincerely hoped we could convince Malcolm Copeland to help us… but I knew that if we couldn’t convince him, I was ready to force him.

We had taken no more than a half-dozen steps into the hallway when the first crack of gunfire sounded from somewhere ahead of us.

The Gauss pistol appeared in my hand as if by its own accord, and, without thinking, I shoved Chan behind me.

Several more shots rang out, followed by a heavy crash. My ears were momentarily filled with a ringing from the cacophonous report of the shots, but my nanites went to work at once. The hearing damage that I was no doubt suffering with each crack of gunfire was being repaired almost as fast as it was happening. I ignored the ringing and darted down the hall, to apartment 803. The acrid tang of burned chemical propellant hung thick in the air, and I could hear faint sounds coming from the other side of the door. Faint, pain-filled sounds.

I slammed my shoulder into the door, once, twice, a third time, grunting with the effort. The door was surprisingly sturdy, given that the domed cities didn’t require pressure seals, but on the final hit, the frame gave way, and the door exploded inward. For an instant, I was framed in the doorway, and in that instant, I saw death staring back at me.

A man dressed in a dark singlesuit knelt beside a body lying crumpled on the floor. He had, most likely, been searching through the