Dyson's Drop

by Paul Collins

  She had done so much for RIM, risked so much. As for Urkor, and the infamous software factories with their coding benches and bleak locale, she gave the place little thought. Her youthful optimism took care of that. There would be opportunities for escape along the way, she was sure. If not in transit, then from Urkor itself For the umpteenth time she bumped her head on the low ceiling. Grunting in pain, she forced herself to lie down on the hard cot in the corner.

  Several times she caught herself on the brink of talking aloud, but just as quickly stifled the urge.

  ‘They’ would be listening and she had no doubt ‘they’ included the mole, who would be celebrating her incarceration. In any case, she would give them no satisfaction. So she fumed in silence instead.

  The first day and night were the worst.

  No one came to see her or spoke to her. She was completely cut off from news outside of her cell. Food and drink appeared on a tray pushed from an automated slot in the wall. Once a jailer made the door transparent to stare at her. A couple of times she tried to signal hello through the soundproofing, but received nothing back other than a shrug.

  Seen it all before, no doubt.

  The uncomfortable cell was about three metres by three metres in length and width, but only two in height, giving it a claustrophobic feel, like a great weight were pressing down on her. Perhaps its designers intended it as a metaphor for guilt. Cute, when you looked at it like that.

  There was a cot in one corner, a sink and toilet partition in another, and a small writing desk with chair and e-pad. She could send coded messages whenever she liked, without knowing whether the censors would pass them on or not, or in what way they would amend them.

  In the end, she sent none. The world outside could continue on its merry way without Anneke Longshadow’s involvement. And she knew Jake would keep communication open with Enigma and Oracle.

  She concocted a variety of escape plans, but as she had been taken by surprise, she had not come prepared for this. Being imprisoned by RIM while the mole roamed its corridors, free to come and go, was one scenario she had not anticipated.

  On the evening of the second night she had a visitor. Jake. They chatted desultorily, avoiding touchy subjects guaranteed to be flagged by silent listeners. However, Jake was adept at the body language codes taught when he first entered RIM, but no longer practised, which Uncle Viktus had, in his interminably insistent way, compelled Anneke to learn.

  ‘I’ll get you out of here,’ said Jake by shifting an eyebrow, touching his ear, and dropping one shoulder ever so slightly.

  ‘No,’ said Anneke, employing the same code. ‘The Commander would like nothing better. Besides, I need you to look after Deema.’

  Jake slumped slightly, not a code, just sudden weariness. Anneke realised he was looking old. Retirement did not suit him. He was, she guessed, itching for action. Any action.

  ‘Get me the transfer protocol, if you want to.

  Routes, times, vehicle types, jump-gate coordinates. And anything you can on Urkor.’ There was no body code for ‘Urkor’ but she called it ‘that place’.

  They chatted amiably for another hour until Jake, still disconsolate, took his leave. That’s when Anneke experienced real depression. The heavy click of the cell door as it slid back out of the wall and automatically closed behind him rang through her soul like a bell struck once, tolling death.

  That night she thought of it. Death.

  Not her own. She had too much faith in life, and her own abilities, to contemplate suicide. But she thought of the death of her parents and the dreams she had been plagued by in the drench vats of Stormhagen.

  ‘You have the dreams for a reason,’ said Healer Elinor. ‘Do not turn away from your mind’s need to heal because your body has mended.’

  Ea{Y fir her to scry, thought Anneke. Had she ever lost anyone? Well, maybe she had. A sombre expression sometimes crossed Elinor’s face. Perhaps it was generated by past grief. Maybe that’s why she had become a healer; had there been someone she had failed to save?

  The universe was a rotten place sometimes,

  Anneke decided, full of despicable people.

  A slight vibration made her head jerk, but only a fraction. She was too well trained to give too much away. Like that old game of cards, where one needed a poker face, only these days it must apply to the entire body.

  The vibration came again, then a series of soft sounds from maintenance machinery behind the walls. The ventilator air in the room changed.

  Something had happened. Perhaps someone was commg.

  And at this time of night, it could not be official RIM business.

  Anneke swiftly assessed the room, but knew there was nowhere to hide and no vantage point. If the ceiling had been higher she would have wedged herself into a corner, or above the door, ready to drop on whoever entered. But the low-ceilinged cell did not give her even that.

  So she did what she could.

  Overturning the bed, she positioned it in the far corner to make it look as if she was hiding behind it, then pressed up against the wall next to the sliding door, which - like all good cell doors - afforded no blind spots, even when not transparent.

  But it did her no good.

  She heard a soft scraping noise then a bright flash penetrated her optic nerve and stunned her for several crucial seconds.

  When she could see - and think again - she was locked in an unbreakable ixsin shackle, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

  Standing before her was Alisk, lieutenant and lover to Quesada’s former CEO, Lob Lotang, who had stepped down due to ill health, handing over the reins of the Company to Nathaniel Brown, the mole.

  Alisk’s expression was unreadable, but the purpose of the laser in her hand, trained on Anneke’s heart, was pretty clear.

  Anneke was still clearing the cobwebs from her brain. The stun grenade had not only disrupted synapses and her neural jack, it had disabled voluntary action at an even deeper level. Anneke kept her mouth shut.

  ‘Don’t bother thanking me,’ said Alisk. ‘We don’t have time.’

  Anneke’s internal reality came crashing back to her. ‘This is some kind of trick,’ she said, peering at the other woman.

  ‘No trick. But if you want to get out of here, we have to go now.’

  ‘If it’s not a trick then why the shackles?’

  ‘To stop you from having some knee-jerk reaction.’ She pointed a remote at Anneke and the ixsin field shackle vanished. Anneke rubbed her wrists, flexed her ankles.

  Alisk lowered the laser. ‘I’m leaving. You want to come along, fine. You want to stay, that’s fine, too.’

  ‘How?’ Anneke managed.

  ‘I have a “bubble”. The rest would take too long to explain. So decide now, Anneke. You coming or staying?’

  It had to be a trick, Anneke knew that. But it might present more opportunities for escape than the trip to Urkor.

  ‘Lead the way.’

  ‘Stay close. The bubble perimeter is two metres.’ Anneke pressed the combination numbers of her cell that she had memorised when first imprisoned.

  The cell door slid shut behind her and locked down. Why not give her captors a puzzle to solve?

  ‘How far do you expect to get using a bubble?’ she whispered when they were outside, moving along the main access corridor of the tier.

  ‘I told you, I’m not usingjust a bubble. Now shut up. ‘

  Alisk moved swiftly and, Anneke had to admit, skilfully, avoiding areas with a congestion of surveillance fields. Overlapping areas were notoriously difficult to negotiate unseen, since tiny discrepancies showed up in the differential responses.

  As Alisk moved, she continuously checked her wristdisplay. Although standard operating procedure, there was an added urgency to the girl’s movements that puzzled and alarmed Anneke.

&nbs
p; After following Alisk for fifteen minutes and, on one occasion, hiding with her while agents perfunctorily patrolled the corridors discussing the scores of their bodyball teams, they reached a cargo elevator. Instead of entering it, which would have set off alarms, Alisk opened an automatic maintenance hatch on the side of the shaft. Anneke noted that precise holes had been lasered through it. It had already been opened and ‘neutralised’ so it would not raise any alarms or software back in Control.

  Once inside, Alisk put her lips to Anneke’s ear and whispered, ‘The hard part is over but there’s one more blockage.’

  Anneke nodded. Alisk removed her neutralisers from the hatch and, to Anneke’s surprise, started descending the shaft, rather than climbing up it.

  Anneke had not realised there was a ‘down’ to go to. RIM’s detention level was deep; which was why people called it the ‘bowels’ or ‘dungeons’ of RIM.

  Several minutes later, after leaving the shaft, they came to a lower chamber with a small hole cut in the floor. It looked too tight for either woman to squeeze through.

  But Alisk did not immediately climb through. After consulting her schematic, she ramped up the field strength of the ‘bubble’ and deployed a camouflage field, combining a hologram, across the hole, making it disappear. Somebody must be passing beneath the hole soon.

  Alisk put her finger to her lips, a signal whose meaning had never changed across the galaxy of humankind worlds.

  They didn’t have to wait long.

  Within two minutes, Alpha Force padded past beneath them. Anneke had an unobstructed view of them through the one-way camouflage field.

  Through their hand signals, Anneke identified the group as Quesadan, which helped explain Alisk’s intel. She also noted the armoured field livery of Myoto and almost smiled. Another of the mole’s nasty little subterfuges. Kill Anneke and blame Myoto for it. A nice, simple plan.

  As soon as they were gone - Anneke assumed they were the ‘blockage’ - Alisk deactivated her camouflager and squeezed through the hole.

  After waiting for Alisk to secure the area, Anneke followed suit. They exited the RIM tunnels at a run. The only sign of the intruders were the remains of a security team, fallen prey to the Quesadan hit squad.

  An hour later the women were well away from RIM headquarters, having exited by a superseded datacrystals conduit Alisk had burned through. Alisk had prepared a safe house with stores of fresh clothing and other necessities.

  Anneke sprang the moment Alisk handed her a false datapass and security wafer.

  Alisk did not put up any resistance. Pinned to the ground in an unbreakable hold that could become lethal, Alisk stared back at Anneke nonchalantly.

  ‘He said you would do this,’ she gurgled.

  Anneke tightened her chokehold. ‘Who said?’ Alisk’s face bulged. She tried to reply, but Anneke’s grip was too tight. Anneke eased the pressure.

  ‘Lob Lotang.’

  ‘He sent you?’

  Alisk grimaced and drew in a deep breath, then nodded.

  ‘Why?’ asked Anneke.

  ‘He wants to help you. Now get off me. We’ve helped you. We saved your life.’

  Anneke was undecided. ‘Why else?’

  ‘He wants to stay alive.’

  Ah. So that was it. Anneke released the woman. Alisk sat up, and rubbed her throat, but she did not seem angry.

  Anneke nodded. ‘Now self-interest I understand.’

  ‘Lob believes you’re putting together a team. He wants in. Obviously, he can’t come himself or be seen to be involved.’

  ‘How about you?’

  Alisk looked pensive for a split second. ‘We had a public falling out and he sent someone to kill me.’

  ‘Ah, a set-up,’ Anneke said. ‘Some poor mere who you subsequently lobotomised?’

  ‘No one who didn’t deserve to die,’ Alisk said.

  ‘Lob can be of help. He has resources. Contacts. He knows where bodies are buried.’

  ‘As long as I don’t try to kill Nathaniel Brown.’ Again the girl nodded. ‘Yes, until Lob finds a way to neutralise the slave narcotic Brown has infected him with. Then, as far as he’s concerned, it’s open season on Mr Brown.’

  ‘Lotang used Quesadan contacts to find out about the hit squad?’

  ‘Yes. Brown sent them to kill you. Seems ten years on Urkor doing hard coding wasn’t enough.’

  ‘He must hate me real bad.’

  ‘He’s not the only one.’ Alisk’s eyes flashed, but she showed no other sign of her intense dislike for Anneke. After all, Anneke had been the unwilling agent, by which the mole had infected Lotang in the first place, making him a slave.

  ‘I had no choice,’ said Anneke.

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘Well, glad we got that out of the way. Now maybe you can tell me how I’m supposed to trust you.’

  ‘Lotang said this would be a problem.’

  ‘How prescient of him.’

  ‘I’ll take the oath.’ Anneke blinked. ‘What?’

  ‘The Sentinel oath. I’ll take it.’ Alisk looked like she had a bad taste in her mouth. ‘Take it or leave it.’ Anneke thought. Having access to Lotang’s resources would be an immense boon, not one she could easily turn down, but letting this viper into her nest seemed insane. Yet the Sentinel oath was unbreakable, a deep mental conditioning no one in the last thousand years of history had forsworn.

  Finally, she nodded. ‘Let’s do it. We’ll need a notary.’

  They found one on the outskirts of the Draco Quarter. It was still open despite the late hour. In a back room, a Sentinel - enveloped and cloaked (no one had ever seen a Sentinel in the flesh; they were rumoured to be unhuman) - witnessed the oath, sprayed Alisk with a mild soporific and subjected her to the conditioning. Anneke, who was waiting outside, wasn’t allowed to watch. An hour later she took possession of legal documents attesting to Alisk’s oath and checked the tiny brand that Alisk bore on her ear, sealing the contract. The brand of the two intersecting olive branches.

  ‘Happy now?’ asked Alisk, rubbing the brand, which would reappear even if the marking was removed, or the ear removed and regrown.

  ‘No. But welcome to the team. Let’s go.’

  It was interesting to watch Fat Fraddo fall in love. Alisk of course paid him no heed. Her heart was given to another as thoroughly as her word had now been given to Anneke by the oath. But that didn’t stop Fraddo swooning every time Alisk walked into the room.

  ‘Nice place you have here,’ said Alisk, checking out the underground chamber Fraddo had donated to Anneke and outfitted at his own expense. It buzzed with activity, mainly due to Anneke’s rescue.

  ‘I think you can stand down some of these people, Fraddo,’ said Anneke.

  Despite his instant obsession with Alisk, Fat Fraddo was pleased to see Anneke. He’d been worried about her and Fat Fraddo rarely worried about anyone but himself.

  Eyeing Alisk, he knew that maybe he’d have to start worrying about her, too. What was happening to him? Was he becoming sentimental? He did not have time to think more about it however, for at that moment several alarms went off.

  Fraddo, belying his great bulk, moved rapidly. In seconds he’d ascertained the danger and had displayed a snoop schematic on the master holoscreen.

  The underground chamber was surrounded.

  ‘I guess we upset the Quesadan hit squad more than I thought,’ said Alisk, checking the charge on her laser. Knowing the battle dynamics of an enclosed combat zone she searched for blast deflectors and usable obstructions around the unfamiliar room.

  ‘I thought you said this place was untraceable,’ Anneke said to Fraddo.

  Fraddo expelled a deep breath, causing his belly to ripple. ‘They must have tagged you, then deduced our whereabouts. This place is too well shielded to be found except by acci
dent, but it does create a blind spot if you know what you’re looking for, and where.’ Anneke spun round and trained her gun on Alisk.

  ‘You did this.’

  Alisk stared calmly back. ‘I took an oath.’ Anneke’s jaw tightened. Had the girl betrayed her?

  The oath bound her to Anneke from the moment of the oath taking, that’s what she had assumed. What if Alisk had contracted with Quesada to lead them here bifOrehanrP. That might constitute a loophole, though she suspected that in the eyes of a Sentinel it would appear flimsy. And would be lethal. For Alisk.

  Alisk, though, continued to stare right back at her, unabashed. Her expression clearly said, ‘This wasn’t me’.

  Anneke lowered her weapon. ‘Spiffie,’ she muttered.

  Everyone in the chamber was armed and ready.

  Blast deflectors rose from the floor and dropped from the ceiling, affording some protection. Dampening fields would also slow - but not stop - weapons not attuned to the same field harmonics, which Fraddo’s team’s weapons were.

  Seconds ticked by as the master screen showed the attackers taking up strategic positions, and the air in the room grew tense, electric. The techies Fraddo had hired and indebted were not trained fighters. Anneke saw more than one gun hand trembling.

  The pulsing forms on the master holoscreen, representing the attackers as wireframes, had stopped moving. They were ready to attack.

  BLACK back-pedalled so fast his thoughts were a blur. Barely escaping undetected, he returned to his quarters sweating and out of breath. An internal investigation had been launched already (the infiltrators, of course, had not been caught). Black knew that it would quickly become apparent that the ‘Myotan’ hit squad had had inside help. Talk of a high level mole would resurface. Worse, Rench would find it hard to keep his job, since the brazen breakout had occurred on his team’s watch when he had just dismantled the task force to find the mole.

  However, none of this infuriated Black.