‘Perfect,’ Gem says. ‘One bug can carry; another can pull the pin. That’s a short-burst EMP. It won’t hurt people, but it should knock out anything electronic in an enclosed room. Pilot Bug, as soon as you drop it, you need to get away from there quick.’
‘Hold on,’ I say. ‘Will it work on their Leyden guns?’
Gem tilts his head. ‘I think so. Usually a thin metal sheath is enough to protect a piece of electronics. Our Leyden bullets are encased in carbonite inside a nemonium magazine. If we’re outside the room when the blast goes off, our weapons might be okay. But theirs … those harpoons carry the charge on the outside of the projectile. An EMP blast should at least short-circuit them, make them less dangerous. It might even make the weapons malfunction altogether.’
‘Might.’
He spreads his hands. ‘I can’t promise.’
‘We’ll need something more, then. Something to disorientate the guards …’ It’s difficult to think with my side throbbing and adrenalin jackhammering in my temples, but I recall how the LI commandos attacked the Varuna when we were leaving San Alejandro. ‘Gem, you wouldn’t happen to have …’
Apparently, his mind is working along the same lines. ‘A Nemo version of a flash bang?’ He pulls another grenade from his bandolier and grins a very Shark-like grin. ‘Why, yes I do. And payback is my favourite dessert.’
‘WE GIVE UP!’ I yell.
This seems like a good way to open negotiations.
Gem and I have pressed ourselves against either wall of the corridor, just outside the dining room. The door is closed, and it’s a good thing I’m not standing in front of it, since the tip of a Leyden harpoon punches through the wood the moment I speak. The guards inside must be getting jumpy. Being left behind on an enemy base to watch hostages so their classmates can make a break for it probably isn’t doing wonders for their morale.
‘STOP FIRING!’ I shout. ‘THIS IS ANA DAKKAR! I WANT TO SURRENDER!’
Silence from the dining room. No more harpoons pierce the door.
‘Miei amici!’ Luca yells from inside. ‘Run! Do not –’
‘Shut up!’ barks another voice, followed by an ugly smack.
‘Leave my husband alone!’ Ophelia shouts.
‘HEY!’ I yell. ‘HEY, LI, LISTEN TO ME! Or don’t you want the credit for capturing me alive?’
There’s a tense exchange of words among the guards. Apparently, this scenario was not covered in their senior-project playbook.
One of them shouts, ‘Open the door slowly. Show us your hands.’
Gem meets my eyes and nods. It’s not because he heard the guard. Unlike me, Gem has first-aid cotton balls stuffed in his ears, so he can’t hear much of anything. But enough time should have gone by for our commando dragonflies to get into position.
‘Okay, I’m opening the door!’ I yell to the guards. ‘Don’t kill me! I’m no good to you dead!’
This is the tricky part. Well … the whole thing is tricky, but I want the guards focused on my grand entrance, not on the hostages. I grip the door handle. I turn it slowly and start to pull the door towards me.
‘I’m going to show you my hands now!’ I lie. ‘Chiudete gli occhi!’
I say this in the same tone as everything else, so it sounds like just another concession I’m about to make. Even if the LI guards speak Italian, I’m gambling that the order Close your eyes won’t make any sense to them in context, but Luca might get the message. And the robo-bugs will hear our agreed-upon code phrase.
It happens fast. From inside, I hear the plunk, plunk of two metal objects hitting the floor, followed by a confused ‘WHAT THE –？’ because grenades do not normally fall from ventilation ducts. Then a tsunami of colour and sound blasts from the dining room.
I think I’m mentally prepared for the alt-tech flash bang, but I’m really not. Even shielded by a half-closed door, I feel like a three-day psychedelic music festival is being stuffed down my ears over the course of a millisecond. Fluorescent jellyfish dance in my eyes. I have just enough presence of mind to stagger out of the way as Gem pushes past me and bursts into the dining room, his guns blazing.
I stumble in after him, my Leyden pistol raised, but there’s no one left to shoot at.
Our friends are still alive, though they’ve looked better. They’re curled on their sides now, groaning and squinting. Luca has a black eye. Ophelia has a busted lip. Blood trickles from Tia’s left ear. Franklin has just finished throwing up.