They needed more heads with smarter brains to work up an actionable plan, but they agreed on these fundamental principles.
1.) Re-establish the Autonarmy – set-up formal communication pipelines with the wider Ghetto network
2.) Look for alternative survival solutions
3.) External recruitment – skill sets and expertise
4.) Open invitation to wider community
‘Two A,’ Kodi had said confidently. ‘There must be some way we can use my P-EP, just like the UA wanted to?’
Chandra had picked up the Interface and they looked at one another in solemn agreement. Now, they had to tell the rest of the Ghettoites.
Looking at the carefree faces in the Circle, chorded laughter and easy conversation, it was difficult to be the bearers of bad news. In the past week there had been a renewed sense of liberation. The reminder that there was still a fight to be had, but this time, they could win. Like walking to a trial they’d been proved guilty of, the four of them came to a standstill at the top of the circle. Chandra took the lead. His usually unthreatening voice wielded like a mace through the crowd.
‘We have some important news to share, that will affect us all. The important thing to remember is, like the phoenix that rises from its ashes, we will rise again.’
With a calm pragmatism, he relayed Kau’s message and the UA-planned world-migration to Mars. It was received as badly as Jun had expected. Some of the Ghettoites had stumbled back to their mob-homes, Zombie-like, to try and process what they’d heard. Some raged with the heat of a dragon; flamed threats leapt and spread like wildfire. Chandra, Solo and Jun had shouted over yells and cries; Batz and Lucas joined them but had kept quiet; their inability to speak said more than enough.
When it had quietened down, and only those happy to talk it over were left, Chandra spoke up again. ‘I should clarify now,’ he said, his voice hoarse from shouting, ‘we’ll still be going ahead with the N-E-E dummy run.’
Heads shook in quiet objection; protestations murmured. There had been too much planning and too many third parties involved, to abandon it now. And getting Kodi out to safety had to be their priority. The dummy run would mimic the first leg of the N-E-E journey. Eli, who brought deliveries twice-weekly to the Ghetto, had agreed to harbour Chandra, Solo and Batz in his articulated lorry, well, empty wagon, as he crossed the Province borders. The plan was to drop them near the central Tri-Province – TP – Train Depot, and to the next leg of their escape – as stowaways in a sleeper EE-RS-RC train.
They had a contact at the TP Depot – the Tri-Province Operator – who had agreed to hide them on the sleeper train. She oversaw the running of the afternoon, evening and sleeper schedules. She was also a collaborator of old, Chandra explained – the Ghetto network had worked closely with her over many years – as she had a lucrative side-line importing and exporting contraband. Illegal items like confectionary and meat, or things that required specialised credits, like clothing. Or, in the days of the Autonarmy, weapons and supplies. Sometimes, in unique circumstances, she had stowed away people. If they were to re-establish the Autonarmy and mobilise a survival strategy, she was the gatekeeper in making it happen, and the reasons why their situations weren’t mutually exclusive after all. They could use this practice run to make their case and recruit her to help re-establish the Autonarmy.
Whenever they’d spoken about the dummy run, it had never sat right with Jun, her not joining them. She understood their logic. Chandra had more history with the contacts, and Batz and Solo, were young and fit enough to sustain the journey twice in quick succession. They had both been part of an independent Disaster Relief Team, so had the necessary operational and organizational skills. But Jun was the one, after all, who’d be making the real, final escape along with Solo, Batz and Kodi.
It was too dangerous for Kodi to go of course, and Jun understood that the more people that went, the more at risk they were of discovery or something going wrong. But she was trusting these people with her life, and they were putting theirs on the line for her. Surely it made more sense that she went instead of Chandra, but when they originally discussed it, no one else agreed. Now they were talking about it again, Jun was compelled to tell them how she felt; her days of her keeping quiet were over.
‘My timing is far from ideal, and I know that it’s happening tomorrow, but as we’re all here, I might as well say what I’ve felt for a few days now. I think I should go on the practice run, instead of Chandra.’
The Ghettoites’ faces peered up from their tree stumps like meerkats. Chandra’s shoulders slumped; he turned his back to her for her a moment.
‘I’m the one who’ll actually be making the journey. I need to prepare. Both Kodi and I can’t rely on Solo and Batz. It doesn’t make sense, and puts the whole operation at risk,’ Jun said, appealing to Chandra more than anyone else.
For the first time since they’d come out to the Circle, there was silence. People looked to Chandra and Solo for direction.
Was it a question of trust? Were they concerned that she, a newcomer to the Ghetto, couldn’t be trusted with talking about re-mobilising the Autonarmy?
‘And with the news we’ve just had, Chandra,’ Jun said, gently pulling his shoulder to encourage him to turn around. ‘It makes more sense for you to stay here, building up the Autonarmy and network again.’
Jun saw from the reflective look in his eyes, the slow, processing nods of his head, he agreed. He still didn’t say a word – what was his reluctance? Exasperated, she turned to Solo and Batz.
Solo shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m not telling you what to do, Jun. You do what feels right,’ she said with defiance, and nudged herself towards Batz. He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. No, Jun thought, no one tells you what to do either. Jun hadn’t seen it before now, but she appreciated how Solo and Batz worked. Solo went her own way, and Batz was either there, or he wasn’t, but Batz always made sure he was there.
The silence rolled like passing clouds. The groups eyes – and hopes? – fell on Chandra.
‘It puts you and by proxy, Kodi, in danger,’ he said finally, resentment sharpening his usual mild-manner. ‘Are you sure you’re up to it, physically?’
In truth, Jun wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t stay put like a sitting duck. They’d been lucky the first time in their amateurish break-out of Kodi but trying to wing it a second time was foolish. She needed to be as prepared as possible; knowing the route and mapping out the change-over, crystallised the plan. Though she didn’t say it out loud, she hoped that keeping herself occupied might ease the worry about Kau’s lie detector test. He made his decision, she kept telling herself, but it brought no comfort; Chandra, however, had.
He’d given Kau the details of Larisa, who he’d been friends with since University. They had gone on to work together at Tri-Continental Communications. That was before the one-state world, before the UA monopolisation. She, like Chandra, had been part of the UA’s operational inner sanctum, till about twenty years ago, when she was released from service under the mental health act.
Chandra had suspected she’d recoded her health chips to force herself into retirement. He’d contacted her years later when he’d joined the anti-PSA group and had been trying to get out of the UA himself. Although she hadn’t confirmed it in so many words – it was too dangerous – she made it known he was right. By Chandra’s own admission she’d taken the smart route out of service, and he’d chosen the dumb and destructive. She would have completed the Chandra Comm earlier and better, Chandra had said. ‘She’s your best bet at beating them.’
Larisa had helped the Autonarmy years ago with a similar situation. And though Jun trusted Chandra, if she couldn’t be with and help her son, she had to do something. The guilt would consume her, otherwise.
‘Kodi will be here, and she’ll be safe with you,’ Jun said. ‘And that’s precisely why I want to be part of the dummy run – so my body can prepare.’
Batz, who’d b
een quiet throughout, perhaps sensing this was not his argument to wade in on, eventually chimed in. ‘I don’t know the complexities,’ he said, low enough that only their group could hear with clarity. ‘But I agree with Jun – it’s more likely to set us up for success on the final run if she comes with us on the practice journey.’
Waves had broken amongst Chandra’s usually-calm waters. ‘There’s something, Jun, that you need to know about our TP contact,’ he had said, his eyes had never looked so severe. ‘That puts more than just you, at risk.’
Eli’s lorry growled as it upped a gear to devour more of the road. The propulsion bayonetted another round of pallets in Jun’s gut; more splinters injected themselves in her skin. Though Jun was nervous about the next leg of the journey, she couldn’t deny she’d be glad to relinquish the pallet-jail. Not that she wasn’t grateful to Eli; it wouldn’t have been possible without him.
Eli had been shuttling across the same delivery route for five years, scaling the Russo-Chin Province, and servicing at least 20 CMCDs. He had got to know the Ghettoites well in that time. He dropped into the Ghetto on behalf of Home Comforts, an independent retailer, which was rare in the UA-homogenised world. Home Comforts specialised in interior design – domestic furnishings, and decorative bits and bobs. Eli dropped off supplies for the Ghettoites, and Linh, another driver who’d make the return journey with them, collected the Ghetto’s handmade wares – like weaves, tapestries and wood-carvings – to sell in the Home Comforts stores.
Home Comforts had been squeezed and pushed, but it was still in business. Just. The Global Governance team had stated it was committed to supporting diversification for the benefit of consumers, so the UA had to, begrudgingly, toe the line, but exiled such retailers to commercial purgatory. That’s why they collaborated with the Ghetto – those outside of the UA had to stick together.
Though Eli had never openly talked about it, Solo had said that his father had worked, and fallen foul of, the UA. He’d done something, albeit minor, but not backed down. As a result, the UA had gone out of their way to make life difficult for him and his family. After years of scrutiny and deprivation, Eli’s father took his life. It was a story all too familiar with the rise and rise of the UA, but that didn’t make it any easier. The UA falling out of love with you felt like the world had crumbled beneath your feet. You couldn’t integrate back into society. You didn’t feel good enough, as though you had been an imposter all along. Until, like Eli’s father, it all got too much. No wonder that had been the first excuse they’d reached for with Odgerel.
When Jun had met Eli earlier that evening, he’d gone to shake her hand like he was proffering a broken wing. It had been the same with Mikhail, they held themselves differently. Scar tissue that had never properly healed.
‘It’s goddam brave what y’all doing,’ Eli had said, his vowels flexing like a yogi. He had what the Western Provinces called, a Southern Drawl. Jun shook Eli’s hand, briefly, till it dove back to his pocket quicker than a swallow.
‘Ain’t no one better than m’aey to help give them fucktards a few knocks.’
The wagon bucked. Another bump in the road and for the hundredth time, a jab in the ribs. There might be no one better to help give the UA a few knocks, but Jun was sore from getting so many herself.
Eli’s lorry was due to pass near the TP depot, in Kyzyl CMCD, at 21.00. They needed to be at the meeting point for 21.30. That’s when the TP contact was on their break, and they had to be there, sharp. The timings were tight. The plan was that Eli would give a few blasts of the horn and manually slow the lorry down. They were to jump out of the wagon and make the twenty-minute walk to the TP depot. From there, they would stowaway on a TP EE-RS-RC sleeper train, which crossed two Provinces to the East Euro Province; the end of the line was at Dresden CMCD. There, Kau’s friend from University, Maxime, would meet them at the Frauenkirche. They would stay overnight at Maxime’s – his place had an old WWII bunker – and then go on to the N-E-E Ghetto where Mikhail would be waiting.
Out of nowhere, Eli gave two shorts blasts of the horn, followed by one long one. That was the signal. Jun’s insides jingled. The angry surge of the wagon tumbled to a gentle roll. Jun hoisted herself to where Eli had shown how she could wriggle free from the pallet jail. She heard a weightlifter’s grunt, followed by a patter of feet, and saw Batz and Solo emerge too. Batz nodded in solidarity to Jun – it was now or never.
The side hatch whined open under Batz’s grip. Just as they had planned, he jumped out first, and there was a balloon-pop as his feet punctured the ground, followed by a small rattle of his bag of supplies. Jun imagined hitting the ground – her bones, like ceramic, shattering into a thousand mosaics. Batz was jogging beside the wagon, ready to help. She thought of Kau, jumping two feet first into everything, and for better or worse, she did it. Batz’s steady hands clamped around her pillowy-midriff, her legs flayed about his hips before finally finding the floor. They both stumbled, but somehow managed to keep upright – strong, reliable Batz. There was a heave behind her and Solo followed suit, recovering with the spring of a gazelle. So far, so to plan. They gripped one another’s hands to begin the walk down the access road. Single file, as they’d talked, so there was no group silhouette. No torches or headlamps to give them away.
Walking alongside the access road was like walking in a graveyard. A stillness haunted the air. The grass felt crisp underfoot like she was walking on char; only an occasional ripple of moonlight reminded them of one other, and the direction they were going. On either side of the road were faint outlines of what she assumed were trees and shrubs. They blended into the liquorice backdrop to form one scribbled mass. That was where later they’d hide till it became light, and Linh would collect them for the return journey.
They had been instructed to go southward for another half a kilometre, and at the fork in the road, take the right branch. From there, they should be able to see the depot in the distance, lit with the brightness of an airport runway. They were to meet their contact in entrance gate ‘4’ of the service-loading area of the terminus, in the observation tower.
Jun found herself feeling homesick, but for a phantom home that had never existed. She pictured her grandparents’ house by the coast in Shanghai; lǎo lao and lǎo yé chattering in Mandarin; her mother preparing supper and her father tussling with Kau. She had no worries; her only concern was Kau’s feed and sleep routines. Now, she feared for his life. Would Larisa help him, could she reprogram his chips? Was he going to be alright? She’d felt so guilty, leaving him and breaking Kodi out. He was the one she was supposed to look after.
Batz tugged at her hand and pulled her back to reality. It was their code for turning right; it brought them one step closer to the next phase. Jun tugged Solo’s hand, and they all turned and saw a base the size of a power plant in the distance, lit brighter than the sky at New Year. There was one big building, about the size of Russchin’s main campus that had mirrored panels, like a giant, shiny armadillo. Beside it, were two smaller buildings, maybe warehouses, that had a grey – or was it black – iridescent gloss, and there were fences and watchtowers dotted everywhere. Jun’s stomach shrivelled; what had she taken on?
They approached the outskirts of the depot. The multitude of security points began with CC hawk eyes atop a high-scale perimeter fence, with anti-ram spears. There was a small checkpoint station at the entrance which, according to their contact, should be un-manned this evening. Batz swung a pair of binoculars to his eyes and nodded his head, seemingly satisfied. Spider-leg access roads led to the loading gates, cutting out obtuse triangle shapes in-between; as you got closer to the depot, sporadic tufts of grass diminished to dust.
Batz pulled out the non-thermal detection cloaks. Using interactive silica-based technology, they reflected the night right back at the thermal CC cameras, creating the illusion that there was nothing there. Batz stretched out of one the cloaks, and put it over Solo, though she insisted on fastening it herself. Jun dre
w comfort from cloaking herself, pulling the billowing hood over her head. Their TP contact had supplied them – as was standard in these operations. That had been the only real expense on their part. Though they weren’t cheap, they were an investment, and would undoubtedly come in handy again.
The three of them were following the same process of the hundreds of others that had gone on successfully before them. They were to arrive at the depot perimeter by entrance gate ‘4’; a small, elevated checkpoint booth at the entrance, harboured a secret door. Inside, there was a tunnel, which led to its corresponding observation tower. From the observation tower, there was another tunnel leading to the depot. The security measures seemed extreme for a glorified train station, Jun thought. But where the UA was involved, you never knew what hid behind the veneer.
According to Chandra there was at least one contraband run every two weeks. In the 19 years of its operation, there had been only three close calls. So close that even paying people off wouldn’t have helped, though they did have people on the payroll – an ecosystem of maintenance teams to operating staff. Either keen to make a stand against the system, or for the extra lining of credits in their pocket. Over the years, elements were refined – the cloaks utilised as standard and optimal timings identified. They never did contraband runs when there were innovation and technology freights, for example. The checkpoint booth was only manned for those kind of VIP deliveries. When the commercial freights were low net worth, like tonight, additional security wasn’t required. In six days’, time, for their ‘official escape’, there were no commercial freights, so the checkpoint station was set to be empty.
‘Ready?’ Batz asked, checking either side of them. ‘Solo, I know you’ve got this, baby,’ he said nodding firmly. ‘So as before, you and I will flank either side of Jun. I’ll go first.’ Jun couldn’t help but feel like she was being babysat by the grownups. She was grateful for their consideration, of course; maybe Chandra might have been a bit more gamely, but it was too late now, she was here, and she’d get through. Batz filed out and ran alongside the access road, heading to the checkpoint station; Jun found a clumsy trot. Three observation towers on the other side of the fence loomed with every step, their heads and necks corroded from years of rain and blistered by the sun. Their contact had confirmed they were mostly redundant now. It being ten years since the last uprising and the agreement of peace; there had been no disturbances since. It was deemed an expensive luxury to have human and Ai-ssistant lookouts. They’d been disbanded two years ago in budget cuts.
Adaptive Consequences Page 24