Page 118 of Gunslinger Girl

“There’s no time to explain.” Pity squeezed tighter. “Barricade the door and don’t open it for anyone. Not the Tin Men, not Santino, not anyone except for one of us or Selene herself. No matter what you hear. Promise me.”

“I…” Luster nodded. “I promise.”

Pity began to let her go, then wrapped her arms around her friend and hugged tight. I’m not losing everyone, she thought. I refuse. “Go,” she ordered again.

They waited until Luster’s delicate footsteps were out of earshot.

“You better hope she’s not scampering off to Sheridan,” Siena said.

“She’s not.” Pity prayed it was true. “Let’s go.”

They came to a stairwell and ascended. A few floors up, Pity ducked her head out into a hall. “It’s clear.”

“Are we going through the Gallery?” Max whispered.

“No.” She thought for a moment, trying to orient herself. “We can’t. Sheridan said the Gallery was taken care of. It’s a good bet the Tin Men there now are Santino’s. We have to go the other way, through Selene’s rooms. Down here.”

They came to the long hall. As soon as Pity saw the first door, she swore.

“I don’t suppose you have the codes,” Siena said.

Stupid. In her panic, she had forgotten all about the locks. Fighting the urge to slam her fists against the thick steel, she searched for a solution. But she was no engineer. Should have paid better attention during all those hours with Finn in her workshop.

Max punched in a few combinations at random. Each was met with an angry flash of red. “We can turn back, go through—”

“No.” An idea materialized. “Siena, give me your bag.”

The bounty hunter raised an eyebrow but handed it over. Pity fished out the shock stick, said a silent prayer, and jammed it into the keypad. There was a flash and a hiss, followed by a spray of sparks. Then a heavy clunk. Max grabbed the handle.

The door opened.

Not quite as elegant as what Finn could have done, but…

“Not bad, Jones.” Siena herded them both through, into the hall with the second door. Pity repeated the process but hesitated before the third.

“There’s a pair of guards on the other side,” she whispered. “We don’t know whose side they’re on.”

“Not ours.” Siena pulled out a pair of tranquilizer guns. “Pity, lock. Max, you get the door. I’ll take care of the guards. Ready on three. One, two… three!”

Zzzzt. Click.

Max yanked the door open.

Thwip. Thwip.

Thud. Thud.

Pity peeked around the corner. The two guards lay motionless on the floor, tiny darts protruding from their necks. Beyond them, the elevator doors stood open.

“Last chance to get out of here,” Siena said to Pity. “Assuming they’re trustworthy, your friends are probably safe by now. No need to risk a fight if it can be avoided.”

Pity felt temptation’s barbs under her skin, but Max seemed to sense her thoughts.

“No, we see this through,” he said. “Or you can forget about me coming quietly.”

Siena toed one of the drugged guards pointedly but stashed her tranquilizer guns. “A deal’s a deal,” she said. “Best not come up on Selene with weapons drawn. Beau has always been one to shoot first and ask questions later.”

The elevator seemed to move slower than Pity remembered, the hum of the hydraulics the only sound as each floor came and went. Almost there, she told herself. It’s not too late… it can’t be. Selene would hear them out, and then Casimir would turn the tables on Sheridan’s borrowed mercenaries. She prayed that the Reformationists hadn’t decided to march early.