Supplejack

by Les Petersen

  At the table, all the faces were watching me, none of them particularly friendly. The men were all bearded except one, some had their hair twisted into dreadlocks, others carefully plaited. The women all had their hair dressed the same way. Over their ears, it was clean-shaven, though the Mohawk was layered at the back and became long dreadlocked tendrils dressed with grasses and feathers. All the faces – whether male or female – appeared pierced at eye or nostril; and each bore a particular tattoo, though the unbearded man, who sat at the far end of the table, had his hands to his face and he wore a baseball cap so I couldn’t be sure. He seemed to be the centre of activity and wore a trench coat with his collar turned up such that the fire cast shadows over his face. This just had to be the mysterious Sam Hunter. Just the sight of him made me nervous and I’m not the nervous kind. I tongued for the holoface, but remembered it was missing when my tongue did nothing more than wipe along my top lip. I must have looked stupid to them.

  Shotgun gave me a light push in the back and I walked forward to a vacant chair at the foot of the table. It was high-backed like the rest and carved with runes and signs. I felt like I’d returned through a time machine to the time of the druids. As I got closer the faces became more guarded. If it wasn’t for the shuffle of my boots the room could’ve been a cone of silence. On the table was my PAN, carefully laid out on an antistatic pad. They at least knew how to treat high-tech pieces.

  When I was seated and Shotgun was standing behind me, Barb walked over to the man at the head of the table and leant over to whisper in his ear. I stole a quick peek at all the others gathered there. They wore a strange mix of fabrics, denims mixed with leather vests and woollen underwear covered over with veil-thin cottons around their shoulders. Most of them were staring at me or casting furtive glances at the guy at the head of the table.

  This Sam Hunter gave Barb a finger wag and then pointed at me. Barb nodded, walked half way around the room and then stood and crossed her arms. Something about the way she stood made me feel like she was going to judge everything I said. I looked at the guy hiding under his hat and didn’t know what to do.

  He was looking at me – I could see the flash of his eyes –, but still he kept a secretive hand over his face. “You know Liberin Talbert?” he asked. His hand muffled his voice, but it was in the tenor range and I took him to be still quite young. I was wishing Sansan was on-line so I could get her to run a check on it for me. The name he had asked about meant nothing to me personally, though it seemed familiar.

  “No. Should I?” There was something familiar about this guy, this Sam Hunter … maybe the shape of his shoulders. I couldn’t quite place it.

  “You know Esteve Estany?”

  I shook my head, though something niggled at the back of my mind. Having to rely on my own memory to drag out something like this out of the past was a little unnerving. And the cloak and dagger stuff was giving me a really bad feeling. I decided to tackle it head on. “You know these people yourself?”

  The guy didn’t bite at all. “You know Gresha Foltachan?”

  “Nope.”

  “Freddy Porstman?”

  “Nope.”

  “Penelope Hurst?”

  “Never heard of her.”

  “Harley Stewart?”

  “Wouldn’t know him from a bar of soap.”

  “Nicki Tsu Tenaka?”

  Enough of this rubbish! I nodded my head. “Yeah. She invented the rolling pin! What is this all about?”

  One of the men at the close end of the table stood up. In fact, he didn’t just stand up so much as leap to his feet and thump the table on his way. He darted a finger toward me which, if it hadn’t been attached to his arm, would have pierced my sternum and gone out the backbone without stopping. “You mind yourself when you talk to Sam!” He practically spat at me. His teeth were rotten, almost black and his eyes were blood red. A betel eater.

  “Malachite, take it easy,” Sam said calmly. “Flintlock’s not annoying me.”

  Malachite looked like he was going to explain his actions, but Sam just made a patting move and Malachite sat down. Sam folded his hands on the table in front of himself and I noticed they were soft and long, almost feminine.

  “Have you ever heard of the Grendel Corporation?” he asked.

  That name I knew. “Yeah. Sure. Was in all the papers and I did a bit of research on their systems. Grendel Corporation designed the first artificial womb. That was just before the Abortion Bill was passed to prevent the death of unwanted children.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “And all those I have named were the Executive Council.”

  “So?”

  The guy drummed his fingers on the table. “They were all assassinated in one way or another and it was in all the media. So how could you’ve not known their names?”

  Personally, I don’t care for this sort of trickery. “This is ridiculous. Do you know the names of the seven dwarfs?”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with it.”

  “You might know of the seven dwarfs, but you would struggle to remember what their names were. Because you keep only as much information in your head as you need.”

  “So, you know the names of the seven dwarfs?”

  The guy was playing with me. I wasn’t sure I should tell him I’d been employed at Bell just after the merger. Also, I hadn’t had time to integrate with the new persona that SmartGuy had set up and I didn’t know the implications. “Look, I didn’t know the executives. I know only about the take-over.”

  “And what did you have to do with that?”

  “The take-over? Nothing. What’s Grendel got to do with you?”

  He ignored the question. “You work for Bell International, Mr Stromlo. Bell was the corporation that instituted the take-over of Grendel. You were employed with them as a soldier. Cyber warfare and corporate counter-espionage. You told us you did some research on them. And you’re a seeding expert as well, so your PAN tells us. So, why have you come here?”

  Somehow things seemed unreal. The guy with his coat collar up around his ears, the silent group sitting in a hideaway in the middle of a reclaimed forest and the splutter of firelight bouncing shadows around the room. I might as well be graceful and make the most of the situation. “Only good fortune brings me here. A Tinman shot me and the river brought me to your door. Mind if I ask a question?”

  Just about everyone at the table turned to look at Sam. Sam just turned on hand over, as if he was waiting for me to drop a set of keys into his palm. I took it as a yes. All eyes returned to my face.

  “Are you going to hand me over to the Squads?”

  Sam sat back in his chair and rubbed his chin and said, “Possibly. It depends on what you had to do with the take-over.”

  “And if I’d nothing to do with the take-over?”

  “Then we want to know why the Squads are chasing you. And in case you don’t know, it’s not just the Squads who are chasing you – the military are as well. High Command has cancelled your right to life. The Brothers Four are hunting for you.”

  In the silence that followed the remark I’d time to realise that I was done for. No one escapes the Mils – no matter how good they are. It was just a matter of time. They’d still be pursuing me, even with my fall into the water. They’d not give up until my body was found. By now they’d have been told about the scuba gear. I felt a cold sweat trickle down my backbone and tossed up whether to let these people know what was happening or whether to brave it all out and find some way to escape the situation.

  I looked at Shotgun, who had moved when the questioning had begun and now was resting with his arms crossed over his chest near the crawl way. He’d drop easily enough, even for all his bulk. The others around the table seemed like soft targets as well and unless one of them had a concealed weapon, I was sure I could escape quickly. The question was to where. Out of the country at least. Off planet, if at all possible; though the moon was a milita
ry base and Mars was just a research facility. Scout work in Saturn’s belt...?

  “Mr Earner?”

  “Yeah?”

  The guy at the end of the table stood up just as I realised I’d blundered it. These folk thought I was Stromlo, not Earner. I could’ve kicked myself. The guy reached up and took off his hat and when he turned down his collar I realised I was looking at Lucy Clarke, the librarian from Walkers Flat.

  She smiled at me. “Yes, I know who you are.”

  There’s a saying the guys in the Sydney Office used to use: “When your pants fall down, make sure nothing is sticking out”. I had no hope of that happening at the moment. My whole body had dropped into the Frigid Zone. And gracefulness went out the window in the same moment. “Well, if it isn’t the book lady. Hiding in a pair of trousers.”

  “And if it isn’t the arrogant son of a bitch who thinks he can do what he wants,” she riposted. “Seems like you’re my captive.”

  I wasn’t going to let her get away with that. Only charm would knock off her rough edges. “And what a beautiful captor you make.” I gave her half-bow and a dazzling smile.

  Malachite thumped the table in rage. “We should’ve left you to die, you bastard.”

  My smile was turned on him and only the intervention of the woman to his left stopped him coming for me. While they were calming him down and he was giving me a list of all the swear words in his limited vocabulary, Sam stood up. She had a pistol tucked into her waistband. “Let’s remain civil here, shall we?”

  Barb took a few steps forward, which brought her to my side. “Look, Flintlock, we’ve been courteous and cared for you. Why don’t you tell us what you think is happening. We might be able to help.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  Sam answered for her. “Any enemy of the Government is a possible friend, of sorts.”

  “I’m not an enemy of the Government.”

  “Then why are the Brothers Four chasing you?”

  “Look, I’m as confused as you are. This sort of thing doesn’t happen to me every day, you know.”

  And right on cue, like a bad plot line in a penny dreadful, one of the dogs perked up his head, his ears erect. Sam, who was still standing, saw the action. She swore and pointed at the animal. “The Mils have found us! Get the kids to the bunkers.”

  In less than a heartbeat, the Forum was scrambling for the door in the rock face. Both dogs were growling and moving toward the crawlspace, their hackles raised. Shotgun whipped out his weapons. Barb jumped forward, reached under the table and pulled an ancient armalite rifle into view. She turned it on me and waved me toward the crawl way. “Out!”

  So much for friendship and the little tugging game she’d played. That was a little fickle. I heard the thump of a detonation outside and the high scream of a man in agony. The dogs raced through the tunnel, baying crazily. I couldn’t find the strength to make any move. Shotgun pointed one of his weapons at me. “A three count is all you get, buddy. One.”

  I moved toward the entrance and peeked out through the gap. Tracers whipped through the trees and gunfire sounded somewhere in the darkness. Shotgun poked me in the back. “Two.”

  I dropped on all fours and scrambled out into the near-darkness. A waning moon had moved into the night sky. When I stood up someone bumped into me and in the faint light I found Sam at my side, fitting a headset on. She shoved something into my arms and I realised it was my batteries and the team. She grabbed a hold of my tie, pulled me close and almost spat in my face. “You better create a miracle with these, Flintlock.” Her holoface hummed into life, then darkened into night camo. By the computer array she had under her jacket I knew she was armed to the teeth with some heavy military hardware. “Follow me.”

  As we scrambled through the darkness, I shoved the batteries into their pockets, connected the leads and fitted on the holoface. “Team up.”

  Sansan came up immediately. “Welcome back, Boris.”

  “Thanks. Immediate Tactical. All safeties off. Military strike incoming.” I toggled for night scope, dropped into camo, flipped up satellite data. “All report!”

  “GaZe up. Eighty percent free. HaRf at sixty-two percent free.”

  “Bleeder up. Sixty-five percent free.”

  “Sansan up. Fifty percent free.”

  “Medusa up. Eighty percent free.”

  Thank God I had everyone on deck. “Welcome back, GaZe. Battery check.”

  “Fully charged, Boris. The Ferals were kind enough to repair some of the minor damage to the other unit as well.” That made it a lot easier. I tapped for whisper control. “Medusa, location analysis. Logical movement and path tracking.”

  “Confirmed.”

  Sansan gave me my place on the globe. We were west of Nildottie, northwest of Wongulla where the big battle had been fought in 2012 against Shumarker Industries and the Ferals. Black Hill was further west of us and a secondary road ran east of us, bisecting the Swan Reach Conservation Park from north to south. A quick check showed I’d been found on the banks of the Marne River, which was to our south. “GaZe, nearest target?”

  “Bearing 12 degrees. One-point-five meters.”

  That was Sam Hunter. “Define as friendly. Maintain tracking. Bleeder, probe friendly for secure communication.”

  “Acknowledged.”

  “Boost all sensory intake. All new data correlated, sampled and cross-referenced. Multiple tracks enabled. Signal strength modified for my ears and eyes. Schematic on demand. And all safeties off. We’re in the red zone gang. Keep us safe!”

  “Understood, Boris.”

  A rapid exchange of gunfire off to my right made me start a little and then a bright flare burst above our heads. I could hear a chopper coming in from the south and the sound of some sort of ground vehicle off to the east. In the bright weaving light, I could see Sam worming her way along a log. The trees were acid yellows in the magnesium glow of the flare. Sam seemed to know where she wanted to go and I could hear her whispering commands into her holoface. A couple of figures darting through the trees were Ferals heading for some haven. One of them was Doc and the other could not be anyone other than Shotgun. I wasn’t worried about them: the Ferals are known to be more than adept at guerrilla warfare. Tracers stitched after them, but they hit the dirt before it caught up with them.

  I needed more than eyes to ensure my safety. “Charlie, 3 milligrams of Gracelands.”

  Charlie dropped the charge into my mouth and waited for the rush. It came like a transit screaming in on dry rails; the world spun for a second, then battle calm swiftly replaced the shakes. When my head cleared, I prepped for action. “Sansan, Tech search. Give me a body count. Hardware and reserves. Wire with overhead. Go team! No acknowledgment required.”

  The holoface rippled as GaZe swung me through a 360-degree situation reading. All detail dissolved and only the wire diagram showed. The tech search revealed a squad of Tinmen wearing full battle array coming in from the north, supported by a helicopter gunship. To the east an armoured car blocked road access and any escape to the west, where Black Hill rose gently out of the trees. Three amphibian craft waited for any retreat in the direction of the river. Only to the south was there any space to move. Total manpower against us was posted as forty, with a total of five heavy vehicles. It would be a good guess that one of the amphibian craft was the control centre and an even better bet that we had a few grunts without tech support. They’d be in the dark: heat sensors wouldn’t pick them up either, nor would light enhancement. Special fabrics, special tactics, basic weapons. Elite paratroopers who didn’t need anything more than machetes and slug thrower. The Tinmen soldiers, who went in under full PAN support, called them ‘Darkmen’. They were sure to be to our south.

  “Medusa, complete Scan for comms. Give me a wrap on them and prep for intersections. I want full mid-range and co-sign.” She knuckled down to it and I thought how best to use the interference she’d put up, how best to redirect their attacks. Breaking in
to their frequency wouldn’t be tough. Getting around the code they talked would be. And then I’d have to have the right aggressive gab.

  Sam peered over her shoulder and caught my eye. She pointed off to the right and when I looked to where she was pointing I saw a grouping of large boulders. If she got in there she’d trap herself. I shook my head and pointed to the south. If any grunts hid there they’d have light enhanced scopes, but those could be confused just as easily as any other electronic translation. We were safer off that way, I was sure. She rolled on her side and angrily pointed to the rocks. I shook my head and again indicated my wish to travel into the bush. She pointed the pistol at me and raised one eyebrow. Some people won’t play fair. I nodded acceptance.

  When I hesitated, she wagged the barrel toward the rocks and I could see she was going to let me go first. At about the same time I was wondering whether she’d consider the line about women and children first, but then I shrugged and crawled closer to her so she could cover my back. The one advantage I could see in the rocks was that it was higher ground, though more exposed. Getting up onto my knees I prepared for the sprint through the bush.

  When Sansan gave me the twitch I was out of the blocks and leaping for the rocks. Poetry in motion, if I do say so myself. The Heads-up showed me where to go, which side of the trees to dodge and when to duck. A few stray shots thumped after me, shrieking past my head. Sam’s pistol popped off rounds and someone screamed as they took a slug while I bobbed and zagged and barely stopped when I came to the rock face. I went up a narrow ledge like a mountain goat. At the very top was a small moss-covered depression. I went into it like a rat down a storm drain; spun around to lay down cover fire for Sam even though I didn’t have a weapon., but she wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I rose on my elbows to peek over the edge.