"Alarm in Sector B!"
Sector B houses the studies on specimens from levels 1 to 5. As fast as I can, I sprint through the central corridors. The guests remain calm, using the gyms so as not to "rust."
"Linnet, report!"
There's always an old story told in a different way. People wouldn't stay quiet if I were the only one offering services of this nature; the Director had foreseen that. I only sought to secure a position where I could carry out what I had set out to do. I never tried to understand all the weapons and training they received—until I was left in charge.
"Who is attacking us? Is it the guests?"
"Sir, all our guests' personnel are in their rooms. The attackers have high-grade technology and trained personnel."
"What happened to the researchers?"
"They are in lockdown; they hid when they heard the alarm. Except for three of them who remain near the containment areas... I'd think they are assisting the invader. Shall we dispose of them?"
"Stop talking nonsense! Those three are under surveillance. Find the enemies."
The cartel must still be in the vicinity. Could this be an attempted hit? Are they trying to take me out of the game? No, their deal depends on me maintaining the high-power contacts that keep the military and other political groups at bay.
"Do we have hidden troops?"
"Yes, sir, but they aren't coming for us. They're coming for our resources."
This is quite annoying. It means it's not a company looking to compete in the market; it's one looking to steal our secrets.
"Reduce excess surveillance and prepare power lockdowns on levels five and six. Keep the rest monitored, with special emphasis on levels where Formula Three is in use."
They wore uniforms similar to ours: white jackets with the letters L and T from the diminished company that "recruited" me—Light & Transport. It was a parastatal with so many benefits it allowed its leaders to live in luxury and the workers in bureaucracy, until the day the government decided it wanted more money. Most of the leaders fled, but the Director refounded his company—another parastatal without unions, ruled with tyrannical control.
The scene is impressive. The cartel protecting me is very emphatic about those who break the rules.
"Hostile contact."
The computer interprets this as if they were contestants. That means they aren't armed with gear capable of eliminating the Level 5 resistors. I assume they want them functional. Too bad for them. Fifteen figures appear, projecting the heat of their energy weapons.
"It's vital that our enemies don't take anyone. Anti-aircraft artillery, don't trust the monitors; check the sky. Raiders, don't let anyone leave. No warnings."
"Sir, there were twenty-five enemies." The Raider's voice does not help maintain calm.
One of my sentries' vital sign monitors emits a beep—the flat line of someone who was overconfident. The monitor reads "Trev." I have no idea who he was. Now we know they are where the inhabitants live with Formula Three. This could be complicated, but at the same time, it's a great way to support our Level 3s who failed to finish the scene.
"Link those on Level 6, Level 2, and those who haven't visited Level 3 this year." The playback method for these promotional videos is unique; it's not a broadcast, but an emission that responds to the viewer's corneal pattern. "Use battle scenes."
"Welcome to the guided tour of Luxor Palace. This is what Level 5 enemies do with fifteen—yes, fifteen—highly trained foes."
I take a breath as I watch. The Level 5s are implacable. There isn't much liquid left in their bodies; they might fall, but they stand back up almost instantly. The scenes are too violent; I signal to cut the transmission. In its place, the beautiful plains of the resort appear along with our contact information.
Notifications for the first reservations of next year begin to arrive. On the screen, the survivors are about to capture Stan, but something they didn't expect appears: the Snow Bitch is there. Her laugh, that hyena-like grin, remains in place. Her weapon movement is as effective as when she was whole. She has split one of the attackers in half. I see silhouettes behind her. I feel sorry for them; they won't survive.
"Sir, the men from the science wing say they managed to stabilize the Snow Bitch and let her loose."
"Play the video of the Level 5 attackers. Send the other video to those who have already passed Level 3 so they know how good they are. Tell them to come soon; we're waiting for them here. I'll take a few moments."
I walk dizzily and collapse near my room. Hands hoist me up and carry me to my bed. They comment on how sparse my room is. I am so tired; I only wish I knew if anyone besides me knows my true goal.