Logan Harrison's Arc

Chapter 8 of 9

They got Danials up top and onto a cot. Logan meant to go back down alone. But the radio crackled before he reached the stairs. A crew was already rolling in from the trade post to reinforce the garage. Logan stepped outside and watched a vintage transport truck grind up to the lot, its tan and brown camouflage caked with dust, a water tank bolted to its flatbed. Two cats climbed down from the cab. The first was Corporal Desior, a grey and white tabby in desert fatigues, a tactical pack riding his shoulders. Logan had heard the name from Brad. The second cat moved like the truck was a place he wanted to leave. Black and white, tuxedo markings, a Colt on his hip and a black beret set flat. He carried a launcher tube across his back and a weathered manual under one arm. He did not offer a hand. "Fredrick Carr," Desior said. "Brad sent him. Weapons." Fredrick opened the manual to a marked page. "Sentry Bot guards your level three," he said. "Minigun. Six rockets." He tapped a back-page note. "One took an EMP grenade, then a ninety. That's how it dies." Logan looked at the launcher. "That your ninety?" "Yes." "And the EMP?" Desior pulled a compact metal grenade from his pack. Its center glowed blue. "Sinclair's people had two. This is the one that works." Logan read the room the way he read machines, by what was missing. One EMP. One launcher. No second try. "How long once it sees us?" Fredrick did not blink. "Fourteen seconds. It locks on, then it fires." He closed the manual. "You kill it first, or it kills you. There is no middle." Logan felt the weight of that number settle. Fourteen seconds was the whole plan. He had powered nothing yet. Level three stayed sealed for now, but it would not stay sealed. He pointed at the grenade, then the launcher. "EMP kills the targeting. Then the missile, while it's blind." "That is the order," Fredrick said. "Reverse it and the missile misses. Then you have a live minigun and no grenade." Desior nodded. "We run it as a pair. He throws, I fire." "No," Fredrick said. "I fire. I have done this." Desior held his eyes a moment, then let it go. "You fire." Logan carried the two men and their gear down to the stairwell and stopped at the sealed door to level three. He set the plan flat in his head. Grenade first. Missile second. Fourteen seconds, no more. He raised his radio to Sinclair. "We're at the door," Logan said. "We have a way to kill the Sentry Bot. One EMP, one launcher, one shot each." He looked at Fredrick, who had already dropped his pack and knelt to load the tube. "Open level three. We take the bot before it takes us."