Page 10 of Last Chance to Save the World (Chaotic Orbits #3)

10

F loor forty-two is going to get more and more crowded as the next few hours go by. It’s just the employees now, taking advantage of the celebrations to avoid work for today and scarf as much catered food as they can before the media shows up.

I can’t believe I walked away before the tower of platters was set up. What the fuck was I thinking?

Right, save the world first. Food after.

Still, it’s almost with reluctance that I reach the stairwell door labeled FORTY-THREE . There is no handle here, and it’s locked from the other side. It’s definitely a weak spot, though, as evidenced by the way Rian opens it up for me from the inside. He had to go through clearance, but more eyes are on Fetor’s personal office, not this one. I mean, it’s also not the only level of security, but still.

We head to the server room where the nanobots are stored and developed. It’s climate-controlled and on a private network relay. The building is pretty much square, and on this floor, the server room takes up the entire middle, with offices lining the outside. I try not to think about how that means all the food is right under all the nanobots.

“This feels too easy,” Rian mumbles.

“This is a government-funded project built by a private company,” I say. “And that private company is run by a dumbass who lucked into wealth and power.”

He frowns, and when he glances at me, I’m pretty sure he can see that I agree with him, despite my bravado. We’re both waiting for the other shoe to drop.

We stop outside the server room. Getting on this floor required a loophole. Getting through this door? It’s going to take a little more luck.

Rian stands in front of a small step beside the door, his face pressed against a scanner built into the wall, doing a retinal scan as well as basic facial recognition. At the same time, he has his left palm on a different glass pane, a red light scanning his entire handprint. When he steps back, a PIN pad pops out, and he punches in a twelve-digit alphanumeric code.

The door slides open.

“Ready?” Rian asks.

I adjust my sun shield.

“As I’ll ever be.” I step through the door.

It closes automatically behind me.

In, I say, using the subvocal transmitters.

Rian says something in reply, but then another voice fills the room, computerized. “Visual sensors disrupted.”

Yeah, flare threads in a sun shield will do that.

You didn’t tell me there was more security in the room, I tell Rian with the subvocal transmitter.

I didn’t know there was.

“Inconclusive results,” the robotic voice says. “Please remove any material that blocks visual input.”

“Yeah, that’s not happening.”

On either side of me in this narrow entryway are two lenses, the rounded glass moving as the red-light sensors rove over my body. The door registers who’s logging in, then the person who enters the room is scanned to make sure the biometric scans and PIN-pad key match the person who steps inside.

The system is designed to stop people from doing exactly what Rian and I are trying to do.

Shit.

“Please stand still; rescanning,” the computer says.

There’s a fucking body scanner in here, I say, stepping out of the entry and away from the scanners.

“You are required to rescan,” the computer says.

I didn’t know that, Rian says.

Of course he wouldn’t. The scans on his body have always matched the biometrics and PIN-pad key. When he walks through the door, the computer is silent and doesn’t protest.

The only saving grace right now is the sun shield with flare threads. It’s enough to throw off the system and put it into an error rather than straight to blaring alarms.

“You are required to rescan,” the computer says as I sprint down the corridor to where Rian said the nanobots would be stored. I take out my earring; all I have to do is slide the metal post into the input port, and the code will go from the stud into the nanobot reprogrammer.

“You have fourteen minutes, thirty-two seconds to rescan before system alerts security.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, I think. Except I must have done it subvocally, because Rian answers.

Is everything okay?

No, I snap back, skidding around a corner. We have less than fifteen before the system locks me in and alerts all the guards to come drag me away.

What? Why?

“Because it has a fucking body scanner inside!” I say out loud. The subvocal transmitter won’t pick that up, so I have to repeat it in an impatient hum as I slam toward the back of the room, frantically looking over the shelves.

I can override the system and cancel the lockdown, Rian says.

Really? I ask.

I think? Maybe?

Cool, cool, that eases my mind. Love a man with confidence.

This room holds more than just Fetor’s nanobot program. It’s a server room for most of Fetor Tech’s processes, and it’s cluttered with enticingly interesting prototypes I want to play with.

“Twelve minutes to system lockdown,” the computer voice announces cheerily.

Right, focus.

Nanobots are tiny. Microscopically tiny. The climate-cleaner program is designed to send enough bots out into the water system of Earth that eventually, the pollutants are stripped from the oceans and the atmosphere. It’s designed to change the entire water cycle of Earth.

But the bots themselves are small enough to fit inside a shoebox.

I can’t override the system while you’re inside, Rian says. How much time do you have left?

Maybe ten minutes, I say, moments before the computer voice confirms.

Can you get it done and get out by then? I can shut it down once you’re back outside.

Fuck me, this is going to cut everything super close.

I told you before, I say subvocally. I need an hour, minimum.

Get out as soon as you can, and we can re-assess. There has to be something we can do.

Rian’s going to break my heart with all the hope he crams into those words. All the impossible, foolish hope.

The back wall of this room is a massive supercomputer, but I see the system Rian told me about, the nanobot programmer. I see the input port. Theoretically, all I have to do is put my earring post into the port.

“Eight minutes to system lockdown,” the computer voice announces.

Rian, we have a big fucking problem, I say.

Just get out. I can shut down the lockdown system when you’re out. We’ll figure it out.

No, I say, fiddling with my earring. Something far, far worse.

What can be worse than getting caught and locked in?

I take a deep breath, looking over the wall, the shelves, everything stored here. There are so many toys I could play with. So much chaos I could cause.

So much profit to be had.

I turn on my heel and sprint back.

The computer tells me I still have four minutes before lockdown by the time I slam my fist into the control to open the door.

Rian reaches through the doorway, grabbing my arm and yanking me back into the corridor. The door zips shut once I’m through, and Rian punches a series of codes into the PIN pad, scans his face again, and then taps out another code.

From here, I cannot hear the computerized voice counting down, but one look on Rian’s relieved face informs me that he got that part shut down. No alarm is going to go off. Human security isn’t coming.

“Can you tell me what to do? I can go in, get all scanned, and set up the code thing to reprogram the bots...” Rian’s voice trails off as he takes in my defeated expression. “The problem’s bigger than that.”

“Yup.”

His whole body deflates. “What is it?”

I bite my lip.

“Tell me I can go in for you and reprogram the bots,” Rian pleads.

“I would tell you that,” I say, “if the nanobots had been in the room.”