Jun’s joints buckled to a halt as they came up to the checkpoint booth. It had three giant steps, a quarter of a meter in height, leading up to its entrance. On the outside panel, near the second step, was a security diagnostic display. Underneath, their contact had said there was a hidden code panel. After inputting the right code – which was updated frequently – a hidden door beneath the stairs would collapse and lead into a tunnel. The tunnel ran underneath the ground and fed into the observation tower by gate 4.
Batz fanned his cloak to cover his hands, as he sidled near the security diagnostic. Keying in the code, just as they had been told, the stairs collapsed into darkness. Batz stepped inside, then Jun, followed by Solo. Jun gave one last look around her. Nothing. Could it really be that straightforward? As she stepped inside, she held her breath imagining the worst-case scenario, but nothing came. As she went inside and Solo followed, Batz keyed in another code. The secret door shut as silently as it had opened.
The tunnel could have only been a little taller than she was. They were bathed in darkness for just a second till they all switched on their headlamps. Batz was almost doubled over out in front; Solo followed, and then Jun. There was a peaty smell; Jun touched the walls. A thin metallic mesh compressed the earth away from them; it felt like snakeskin.
‘Jun, are you alright?’ Batz said softly, but it rang severe in her ear.
She nodded, though she wasn’t sure that she was. She still had the return journey to think about. ‘Thank you, to both of you, for getting us here in one piece. Are you okay?’ She scanned their faces. It was difficult to tell in the poor light, but they didn’t show any of the knocks that she felt.
‘Batz is made for this kinda thing. He was in his element when we worked for the Migration Disaster Relief,’ Solo said, replacing an eye roll with a pat of his head.
He received it gratefully and kissed her cheek. ‘We walk in this tunnel for less than two minutes through to the observation tower that we saw just now. The tunnel entrance in the tower is hidden inside a storage cupboard. That’s where she’ll meet us,’ Batz said his breath steady, his tone firm. ‘From there, she’ll take us through the next tunnel to the depot.’ Batz checked his watch. ‘9.25. We have five minutes till we need to be there. We don’t leave our tunnel till we hear word from her, okay?’
Jun nodded gravely and distracted herself by massaging her aching hip; she couldn’t deny that she was nervous.
According to Chandra, their TP contact’s motivations for smuggling mostly fell into two buckets. One was monetary; she charged a hefty ‘carriage’ tax for the contraband she pushed through. The other was that she had something personally to gain. In this instance, the personal gain was point-scoring against the UA. She had been part of the Autonarmy and had stayed undercover from the old days of the uprisings, working the TP to smuggle Voltarms, Immobilisers and such across the Provinces. When the truce was called, she’d stayed in the post. Shuttling useful packages between the network, or contraband for high net-worth individuals to add a few extra zeros to her salary. Solo had said it was rumoured that she put earnings from her sideline into a pot of ‘fuck you’ money. She played within the system to play against it. If anyone could help them get to Mikhail, and mobilise the Autonarmy, it was her. It was with some trepidation and a sense of irony that Jun shuffled ahead.
Batz slowed to a stop and crouched on his ankles. Solo followed suit. A vault-like door, smaller than a car’s, stood in between them and the other side of the observation tower. At one time it would have been pure white, but now it was smeared with dirt, and branded with the fingerprints of those who had gone before them. It had a fist-size manual handle, not unlike a steering wheel, at its centre.
The silence as they waited was deafening. Each second stretched out like an hour. Beads of sweat scaled down Jun’s face and back; her heart galloped inside her chest. Until, a noise came from the other side of the vault door.
Batz rested his ear to the door to check it out.
‘Are you below?’
The words ricocheted through Jun’s body; she clung to them. Well-enunciated and defiant, they were strong, where Jun felt so weak.
‘The Clay? Yes.’ Batz said, in a voice as robust to match. As his hands made light work of the door, it sounded as though something had been removed from the other side, and then suddenly, a white light swamped her eyes. First Batz jumped out, then Solo, and then Jun inched herself forward. The light was so bright she shielded her eyes with one of her hands; someone gripped her other to help her down. At last, she could breathe.
She looked at the hand holding on to her own. The skin was thinner and had liver spots, but she wore them like a leopard. Even after all these years, her sugar-almond nails were remarkable. Jonquil had worn her hair cropped the last time Jun saw her; now, it was neatly swept into a low bun. It jarred; that kindly bun worn by someone who had always been so severe.
‘At least you showed up for this meeting,’ Jonquil said, her predator’s eyes sizing up Jun as they shook hands. ‘It’s been a long time,’ she said, and gave Jun a knowing look. One which said though their history was brief, it wasn’t ever history; the friction between them remained unchanged.
‘It has,’ Jun said, ‘things seem to have come full circle.’ Chandra should have come after all.
‘I suppose they have,’ Jonquil gave a conciliatory laugh.
Perhaps some things had changed.
‘Who’s the functioning cog now?’
CHAPTER 25
Tuesday 16th May 2062
Kau hadn’t been this far East since he’d visited his father’s parents on the coast when he was a boy. He, his mother and father had stayed with his grandparents in their condo for a week before they moved further inland; a Li family farewell before the building was demolished. Its foundations were now under water, finally gobbled up by the sea after years of the coastline retreating.
Chandra had given him the details of an expert coder, Larisa, who could help him. They’d been friends for years apparently, even worked together. Chandra trusted her implicitly, and she had subverted a lie-detector test before for one of the Autonarmists. She was his only chance of survival, but there was no guarantee that she could or would, help him. She had agreed to meet him on his utterance of Chandra’s name; but anything else was wishful thinking.
Last night he’d wracked his brain most of the night, thinking about a cover to meet Larisa that wouldn’t raise UA suspicion. It had been Celeste, unknowingly, who had inspired the idea earlier that day. She’d suggested that he meet one of the manufacturers to see a prototype of her development and had mailed him the details after the meeting. It was only when he lay restless and awake at silly o’clock and desperate to distract himself, that he’d checked his work mails, and saw Celeste’s. One of the developers was acceptably close enough location-wise to Larisa, to give him a cover.
He called that morning to see if he could take a tour of their facilities, see the prototype, though the actual production would take place on Mars. Working for the UA, and specifically, the AS department meant ‘no’ wasn’t really an option, at least, not for official business. It was probably the last thing they needed after receiving the blueprints and specs, a busybody bureaucrat asking questions and poking at machines, but his life was on the line.
As the developer showed him the automation fabricator; his neural-phone program took the notes and allowed his mind to be elsewhere. As he underwent a ‘feel’ room simulation, his mind wouldn’t stop talking; in a little over 24 hours, would he be sat in front of Anton, begging for his life? Maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t give Anton the satisfaction. He’d walk out nonchalantly and give him the finger. Who was he kidding, he’d beg. Just like he did after his mother, Solo and Kodi left the archive chamber; he’d lied for his life then, and he was doing the same again now.
The Intuimoto sped past deserted towns and crumbling brick homes, a time the world tried to forget. When people had either died or migrated.
Packed up their lives and left their brick, five-bedroom farmhouses like giant cenotaphs, after the battles by the sun, wind and rain had long been lost.
Kau had asked Larisa to meet him at 14.00 in a little town he had to pass through to get to the developer’s plant, in the Khilok CMCD. It had a highway route with easy access for them both; it was a permissible place for him to work after his meeting, and it had enough exposed land for them to talk without fear of being recorded. He’d taken two parasols so that they could talk outside for as long as they needed.
There had been no other option than to call Larisa, thought it was a gamble. While Celeste was showering, Kau had used her phone and then deleted the history. A basic precaution which would only stop Celeste finding out, but it was doubtful that the UA monitored her calls, she was their golden girl after all.
Kau had suggested he meet Larisa at the Gogo Juice Bar and walk and talk from there. Larisa said she’d wear a purple top; he a cricket hat. Chandra mentioned he’d taught Larisa cricket, and he thought it might reassure her. After hovering by the doors, Kau sidled onto a stool. 14.10. He only hoped that she was late and that she hadn’t had second thoughts; in truth, he couldn’t blame her if she bailed. Optimistically, he bought two juices to go.
‘You wear hats indoors all the time?’ The Barman said as he slid a Super Green and Super Red to Kau.
Kau smiled. Though small talk was the last thing on his mind, you never knew when you might need a favour from a stranger. ‘Sometimes.’
‘You expecting someone?’
His gut flipped; was the Barman a spy? Chill out, calm down. He’d bought two drinks. He’d been sitting alone for over ten-minutes, what else was the guy to think?
‘I was, am. I think I’ve been stood up.’
The Barman smiled. ‘You like older women?’
Kau couldn’t help but look confused. Celeste was a bit older, but only a few years, really. Then it clicked; Larisa must be about Chandra’s age. That made him into older women. ‘Not too old.’ He laughed.
The Barman nodded behind him, and Kau turned and saw a purple-topped woman nudge the door open a fraction, as if opening it too wide would let something escape.
‘Thanks, bro,’ Kau said to the Barman and swooped the door open. He made move for them to go outside. ‘Glad you could make it.’
They walked a few paces in silence until Kau asked her which juice she prefer.
She didn’t say anything; perhaps she thought it was all a rouse, that maybe the juice was poisoned. Perhaps this was how he’d have to live his life, wondering who was going to stiff him. He offered her a parasol; she nodded at that.
‘I thought we might walk by the dunes,’ he said. ‘No one will hear us there.’
Her hair might have been streaked with grey, but it was difficult to tell in the light. Her eyes darted around, seemingly afraid to settle in one place; they were kind, but more fearful of him than he’d like. She popped the parasol open and he noticed a wedding ring on her finger. Kau hoped the Barman hadn’t seen. He stopped himself, now he really did sound paranoid.
He began to talk through the story, from the sycophantic start to his sociopathic now. His fear around the lie detection test, his mercy to her whim and skills. ‘Can you, will you do it?’ He knew it was a lot to ask, but if those who disagreed with the UA didn’t stick together, then they’d already lost.
It was a few moments after he’d finished that Kau realised they were walking into the sun. Larisa still hadn’t said a word.
‘Perhaps we should go back,’ he said slurping up the last of the Super Green like a grainy vacuum. Its gritty sound dragged across the peaceful mounds of sand and dust that eventually plumped into hills in the distance.
He pulled the straw on the Red one and opened his mouth. It was a shame to let it waste.
She finally spoke. ‘I’ll take the Red if you don’t mind.’ Her voice was deeper than he’d expected. It sounded like velvet, cushioned and dense, wrapping words with its warmth.
A few more Intuimotos had sprinkled around the diner, like peas strewn on a plate. Kau looked at his watch, 14.30. Hardly a key eating time, what if… he shook his head. He was paranoid.
‘You’ve got yourself in quite a mess,’ she laughed, though it was through with nerves, rather than finding fun.
Kau laughed too; his juddered like flailing arms. ‘Or it’s a bump in the road. Albeit a big bump.’
As they walked back to where they’d started, Kau read the signs outside the diner. ‘Happy hour’ from 4pm-5pm. What was that supposed to mean anyway?
‘I’ll help you, Kau, if I can. And I think I can,’ she said, her voice rippled and ruched.
‘Larisa, you don’t know how grateful I am.’
‘I do,’ she said and gave him a look so sincere that the hair on his arms speared. ‘Get me another juice, and we’re even.’
* * *
Celeste’s office door was always left ajar when she was inside. That was how she liked it. So people would know when she was there, which wasn’t often, and could knock if they wanted her. It wasn’t lost on him that her door was open, when he’d closed his last night. A few weeks ago, her unexpected arrival would have been the excuse he’d been looking for. A few days ago, it would have been regular to their routine, but yesterday, he’d wanted to dodge it like a bullet.
They were in a precarious position before all of this, trying to keep their relationship secret, and now even more so, but Celeste wouldn’t know about that.
He wouldn’t be able to see her later this evening and couldn’t face an episode like last night. He’d arranged to see Larisa; she’d agreed to pull a rabbit out of a hat for him. If everything went his way, the test might actually do him a favour – quieten the committee’s dissents and maybe stop some of Anton’s sneers. But it was dangerous to think like that. He needed to think of a plan b. But not now, he wanted to think about Celeste.
He knocked on her door and went inside; her eyes were glued to the Interface screen. She smiled before she saw it was him, and stood up to shut the door, kissing him in one stroke, moving her body into his.
Any ill feelings they’d had yesterday were forgotten later that evening. His annoyance that she’d withheld the development information; her suspicions that he’d changed the lock system on his house, so she couldn’t let herself in anymore. But he couldn’t tell her the real reason he’d changed the security. That there were things he needed to do for the Ghettoites, messages to send and read, and alternative reports to write. It was one thing lying to her superficially, and it was another lying under the same roof and bed. He’d told her he had to change the system because of a programming fault, but, on reflection, they probably should be more careful. If they didn’t want anyone from work to know – and they didn’t – they had to be more discreet.
Celeste hadn’t believed him, he could tell. Perhaps she was suspicious of someone else; maybe she thought he’d done it to spite her for not sharing information, or for calling him Li Junior as dismissively as Anton.
‘The committee is making a stand against you,’ she had said. Until he’d proved he could be trusted beyond reproach, they didn’t want to share information with him, and she had to follow suit to keep up the pretence.
But in her office now, he didn’t care about pretences. He kissed her urgently, and let himself get lost in it, imagining her hitching up her skirt and unbuttoning his trousers.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ she said and peeled her body slowly from his, ‘we’ve got to be careful, remember?’ Kau felt the intended barb.
‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ she said, sitting on her desk and playfully crossing her legs.
Why had he come to talk to her? He took a deep breath and pulled back his focus. ‘I brought you these,’ he said and handed her two jade-stud earrings she’d left at his last night. Celeste excelled in most things, remembering her personal bits and pieces, not so much.
‘Also,’ he said, and almost tripped
over the words before they came out of his mouth, ‘I’m not going to be able to see you later.’ He tried not to brace himself as he said it. ‘I have to go out tonight. See an old friend – they’re not in a great place.’
Her face paled. ‘Okay,’ she said quietly, her eyes scanned him like a security procedure. ‘Remember I’m going to Mars tomorrow to recce the development site,’ she grumbled. ‘I might not see you for a while.’
‘I’ll see you before you go.’ He’d make sure that he would.
‘Is your friend okay? Is he,’ Celeste paused, ‘she, in trouble?’
‘He,’ Kau said quickly, too quickly, making it seem all the more suspicious. ‘Is in trouble.’ Yes, he was in trouble. What came next trickled like sand through an hour-glass. ‘I can’t say what, but he needs help. He’s been stupid, and is in a bad way.’
Celeste’s eyes stopped scanning him and fell to the floor. He wished they’d come back again. ‘Then I hope you can help him,’ she said and smiled, but her body had stiffened. She walked back to behind her desk and sat down; her face turned icily to the screen.
‘Celeste…’ he said, but something clotted in his throat; what else could he say?
‘Whatever it is,’ she said, her eyes slowly came to look at him again, ‘tell your friend that bad ways don’t mean you’re a bad person. But nothing ends up hurting more than a lie.’
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