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I take the dataslug out of the slot and toss it to Knight.
'What's this?' he asks, turning it over in his fingers.
'Local map of the sewer system. Got it on file transfer from the Department of Sanitation.'
'Hey, good thinking,' he says. 'I don't suppose they've got a local maintenance fella we can borrow, have they?'
I shake my head. 'Nope, I tried. Too much crap still to clean up after the last Gorezone. But they've agreed to seal off the outflows for two hours to give us some time to check it out.'
'Frag, would you listen ta these two?' Crucify grumbles. 'Lissen, anything gets in ya face, ya twat it and leave it twitchin', got it? Sheesh, what's the problem?'
'You, mostly, but we get by,' I say absently. 'Knight, put it on the screen would you?'
He flips open his Oyster and slots the slug. Almost immediately, a bright multicoloured map comes up. 'Okay,' he says, touching the screen to illuminate a junction. 'We're here, and we are - oh joy - probably looking for a carriens nest. Thoughts?'
He glances at Szy’m’czyk, who frowns as she contemplates the screen. Scout trainees are often held to be little more than snipers, and Szy’m’czyk certainly carries a Fen GAG, but the best of them are Recon to the bones. She stands in silent contemplation for almost a minute, and Crucify is just shifting his weight prior to issuing a complaint when she reaches out and taps three locations on the map. After a moment's thought, she taps the middle one again, changing it to a lurid red.
'You sure?' Knight asks doubtfully, which earns him a baleful glare - questioning a Shaktar's word is usually grounds for a swift ticket to body reconstruction.
'Yes.' We wait for a moment for Szy’m’czyk to elaborate, perhaps explain how she came to her conclusions, but it soon becomes apparent that she has no intention of doing so. I swear, laconicism isn't a Shaktar trait, it's a bloody obssession.
'Okay,' I say. 'This goes down as follows. Szy’m’czyk,' I half-throttle the name but manage to get it out, 'you get point.' She nods, flipping the GAG behind her and unlimbering, interestingly, a Fen 603 to which she screws a silencer. 'Knight, you get drag, if only because you're the most armoured of any of us.'
'Great, so now I'm the shield,' Knight grumbles.
'We keep this fast, quiet, and smooth,' I continue, ignoring him. ‘Underestimating the sewers is a quick way to get dead, understand me?'
'You are SUCH a pussy!' Crucify complains. 'Fer cryin' out loud, ya get sewer duty on Blue BPNs, and they're worth diddly squat!'
'Yep. Check the fatality figures some time, why don't you?’
‘Lot of people get stupid, get dead,’ Fred says solemnly.
‘What he said.’ I check the cylinder on my Blitzer, feed the sixth round in just to be on the safe side. ‘Let’s move.’
‘Ready?’ I ask softly. Knight and Fred nod, and I yank the door open with a snap. They both charge through, Knight just ahead of Fred, and fan out to the sides of the door. Szy’m’czyk stares down the sight of her GAG with a cold intensity in case anything moves from up the stairs.
‘Clear,’ Knight reports, Fred echoing him.
‘All right, let’s get it on.’ Good grief, don’t tell me we’re actually going to get away with this.
We slip up the stairs, ghosts in the shadows of the early morning sun. Using hand signals, I put Szy’m’czyk on to point; she swaps the GAG for her silenced 603 again and manages to disappear within a few strides of the building’s door. For a two-metre tall killing machine, she can be one of the most invisible people I’ve ever seen – or not seen, as the case may be. After a tense couple of minutes, her voice comes softly over the comlink.
‘Some tracks. No carriens. Tracks lead to tunnel entrances.’
‘You was right,’ Fred says with some satisfaction.
‘So far,’ I counter. ‘Okay, let’s not waste any time, I want to be long gone comes the time these buggers come back out to play.’
‘Think we can make the Wall by dark?’ Knight asks.
‘I don’t see any reason why not,’ I reply. ‘If we keep it going, we should make it about…’ I consider the distances. ‘Say by about an hour before evening comes down.’
‘Then let’s not waste any fraggin’ time!’ Crucify snarls. He wouldn’t admit it for worlds, but the long wait in the bomb shelter has gnawed at his nerves. Right now he’s more nervous than a Doobrie that just heard the Contract Killer it looks like got whacked in his last display fight.
‘Agreed. Move it out.’
Despite our haste, we take a great deal of caution as we head out into the cannibal sector. Carriens aren’t the only things out here that would eat us alive given the chance. There are carnivorous pigs, serial killers…
‘Contact, one hundred metres.’
…and, of course, manchines…