Time Salvager (Time Salvager #1)(45)
The monitor farther away, a grizzled veteran by the look of him, stood on the other end of the room. He carried his wrist beam like most other experienced combat soldiers, with one arm extended and the other high-chambered, close to protect his body and face. James went for him first.
He didn’t have his bands on him, but against monitors, he didn’t need them. Initiates at the Academy didn’t even work with bands until their last two years. Before then, combat training was strictly conventional, a field in which James excelled in.
He shoved the monitor in his grasp toward the grizzled veteran and leaped toward the fodder. He slid forward feet first, ducking under a hastily aimed shot. He got close enough to stab the razor down on the fodder’s standard steel-tipped boots, reinforced thirteen centimeters from the end. James jammed the razor eighteen centimeters from the tip and felt the blade penetrate the softer plastic right where the ankle met the foot.
Before the surprised fodder even had time to cry out in pain, James pulled the bloody razor out of his foot, and in one smooth motion, flung it at the veteran. The razor missed its mark as the monitor sidestepped and knocked the razor out of the air with his armored forearm. Grizzle was able to get one shot off that went wide to the left before James had covered the distance and was on top of him.
James threw three quick strikes. Grizzle blocked two. The third, a knuckle jab to the solar plexus, right between the protective chest plates of his armor, sent him down writhing on the ground, gasping for breath. One more blow finished him off. James turned to face the two remaining men in the room and barely dodged a wrist beam to the face.
As with many new monitors, this one tended to aim for the head. James attacked. The fodder, having fallen on his back, was able to get off only one more shot before James was on top of him. With one hand, James violently tore off his helmet, and with the other, brought his fist straight down on the poor kid’s temple. He watched the fodder’s eyes roll up into his head and his body go limp.
James turned to Smitt. As expected, his only friend in the world hadn’t moved from his place. His ex-handler was always more brains than fight. In this case, he wasn’t much of either. James wasn’t sure what to do with him. Killing his only friend in the world, even if Smitt had betrayed him, was something James couldn’t bring himself to do.
The blood had drained from Smitt’s face. He turned and tried to flee the room by running through the wall. He succeeded in only banging his head against the shelf and growing a welt. Smitt turned back to James, rubbing the angry knot on his head, and begged for his life. “I’m sorry, my friend. It’s for your own good. There’s nowhere to run, James.”
James took a slow step toward Smitt, still unsure how to deal with him.
“You know Levin won’t stop going after you.” Smitt sounded desperate. As he should be.
James took two more steps, cracking his fists. They throbbed in a way he hadn’t felt in years. He wasn’t sure but he might have broken his forefinger on his right hand. It has been a long time since he last fought without his exo. His mind wandered back to the first time he and Smitt had met at the Academy.
James had just failed a communication channel construction test while Smitt had failed his first-year physical for the second time. They both happened to wander into the Fresh Fish bar to drown their sorrows, which is where they met. They had agreed to help the other pass their tests and had become fast friends.
The right thing for James to do was kill Smitt right there. Smitt knew far too much about him. The auditors could use him to track down James and Elise. After all, James was a wanted criminal. He had broken the Time Laws he had sworn to uphold. Not just any Time Law, but the first and most important. If any other chronman had done the same, James wouldn’t have hesitated to take him down as well, if ordered. He reached out, grabbed Smitt’s collar, and slammed him back into the wall.
He wrapped his hands around his friend’s neck and squeezed. “Unlock the lockers. Now.”
Smitt nodded, a choking sound crawling out of his mouth. “Done.”
A dozen security locks behind him switched off. Then Smitt closed his eyes and waited for the killing blow. James reached one hand behind Smitt’s head and put the other on his chin. One quick twist and his friend wouldn’t feel much pain. A low, guttural cry escaped his lips as he twisted, and then stopped.
Smitt opened one eye, puzzled. “Get it over with, James, and for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“That means a lot to me,” James said.
A little of the tension left Smitt’s terrified face. “You’ve always been my brother, and I’ll—”
James punched him across the jaw and knocked him unconscious. He shook his fist as he looked down at his fallen friend. He’d definitely let his hands get way too soft, relying on his exo these past few years. Smitt was going to wake up with a splitting headache and maybe a busted jaw, but at least he’d be alive.
True to his word, Smitt had unlocked all the storage containers. If James was going to keep Elise alive out there, he’d need supplies. He grabbed stashes of survival gear: wasteland kits, including provisions, water containers, med kits. Then he rummaged through the holds and equipped his wrists with all the bands he needed. Not knowing when or if he could ever acquire any more of this technology, James stuffed several extra bands into his netherstore, including extra comm, AI, and atmos bands for Elise. An exo would be too complicated and dangerous for her to learn. Instead, he stowed a stash of standard monitor wrist beams. Elise might need to know how to use one to protect herself. Also, there was always a black market for these items. His account would undoubtedly be frozen after this incident, and he would need to find the scratch somehow.