"Yeah. Did you find a way out?"
"I found a way... back in," he says. "And some extra clothes that you might be able to squeeze into." He hands Asterion the big bundle. "Now to decide whether we go for the twenty-seven-K trek through the snow, or steal a vehicle."
"I could carry you twenty-seven kilometers through the snow," Asterion predicts. "Which way's easier to track?"
"Could you carry me twenty-seven kilometers through the snow faster than I could keep up myself? ...Probably," he answers his own question. "All right. I think... advantage goes to the long walk, because people leave tracks in snow, but stolen vehicles are likely to be missed faster than prisoners vanished out of an unmonitored sub-basement, and most instruments are better at finding vehicles than people. I just wish I'd been able to find some spare cash, any spare cash..." He glances back at the jammed hatch in an agony of temptation. "I don't fancy having to barter for comm access with a couple pocketloads of miscellaneous basement junk, but neither do I fancy nipping up there for another look around and stumbling on a guard come down to check on us or replace a lost boot or something."
"I could come with you," Asterion suggests. "Those guards don't go around in groups big enough to take me down."
"It only takes one hit with a nerve disruptor," says Miles. "They're probably under orders not to kill you - or me, for that matter - but we don't know that for sure. And you're not as easily hidden as I am - can't tuck you into small corners..." But he's wavering. "All right, you can come up for a quick look around. But if we see any guards before they see us, we at least try hiding, all right?"
There is a lot more basement junk to be had.
But finally, just as Miles is about to give up, they come upon a room that appears to be the dumping ground for at least half the building's waste chutes. Miles vaguely recalls that these chutes are disused now, having been replaced by a new set that all terminate in a ground-floor room - he made a note of it when studying the map because the older chutes (a) are wide enough to admit him and (b) don't lead to an incinerator. Apparently, though, there's a difference between disused and unused. Several of the openings have piles of junk accumulated beneath them. Miles puts on his heavy gloves, exchanges his slightly-overlarge security uniform jacket for a slightly-overlarge lab coat, and goes hunting. People throw out all kinds of things.
"That should do us," he declares, glancing back at Asterion. "Now let's go back and see if I can't get that vehicle entrance open, the one at the bottom of the slope. I'm guessing it'll be our least guarded option."
With his scavenged tools, the control panel for the vehicle entrance is only a moderate challenge. He lets Asterion watch - a little exposure to practical skills can hardly do the kid any harm - and then pauses so they can both don all their layers before he makes the final manipulation that causes the door to rise. As soon as it's up high enough for Asterion to wriggle under, Miles disconnects his widgetry and rolls under it himself as it slowly creaks downward.
"Where to?" murmurs Asterion.
"Over the wall," Miles whispers back, pointing. "You'll have to boost me up. Then we wander through the woods until I get my bearings."
Asterion nods. Over they go. They don't see anyone on the way, nor do any guards come boiling out of the building to chase them down.
Then there are woods. It takes much less wandering than advertised for Miles to get oriented and point out the appropriate direction.
It takes him somewhat less than two hours to cover the ground between the biolab complex and the nearest settlement.
He does both those things. (He makes sure not to show or mention Asterion on the vid call, since someone somewhere is almost certainly monitoring it and will eventually report its contents to Ryoval. Confusion to the enemy.)
"Admiral!" exclaims Thorne, when it answers. "What in God's name - well, I guess that puts paid to the ransom discussion, I'll string them along a bit more for cover while a shuttle goes to fetch you, shall I?"
"Right. Do you want the shuttle where you're calling from or a rendezvous somewhere else?"
"If you can land a shuttle in commercial parking, by all means do so, and I'll meet you there. I feel that the residents of this town would be alarmed by a full-on emergency pickup in the middle of the street."
"Dispatching," chirps Thorne, "and then operation Screw It He's Not Worth That Much Money Watch Us Innocently Saunter is go." It salutes.
He cuts the com and goes to wait for rescue.