Kline exited the security barracks and found himself in a long, tube-like passage that sloped downward until it met a single door. Two soldiers stood at the opposite end. They raised their weapons as an alarm sounded. A voice announced that XLS soldiers had infiltrated the production facility.
The soldiers opened fire. Bullets streamed past Kline. One sliced through his leg. Kline dove forward, loosed a grenade from his belt, and hurled it toward the soldiers.
BOOM! The explosion brought a quick end to the rattle of machinegun fire. Both guards grunted as they lost muscle control and slumped to the ground. Kline grabbed his thigh. Blood began to seep into the leg of his tactical suit. He grimaced.
His suit chirped, “Right leg bleeding. Wound not serious. Slowing blood supply to area.” The suit tightened just above the bullet hole as if Kline had wrapped a belt around his leg. He struggled to his feet and limped to the end of the corridor.
The subassembly access door required a keycard and retinal scan. Kline searched the soldiers. Neither had a keycard. Pulling a set of pads from his belt, he slapped them against the door. Then, standing back, he pushed a button on his datapad. The door blew inward, leaving a smoking hole. An alarm sounded inside the subassembly room.
Kline entered a rectangular room with monitors and terminals lining the walls. Ignoring them, he focused instead on the silver-coated cylinder about the size of his own arm that hovered over a pedestal in the center of the room. C19H. The Exodus ship’s power core—a cell that offered enough propulsion to transfer a million people outside of the Milky Way Galaxy. Kline limped up to the edge of the pedestal. His pupils dilated. The prize hovered right in front of his face.
“Don’t move!” came a shout from behind Kline. “Turn around!”
His jaw clamped shut as he turned to face Hector Salazar.
