Grey Sky Blues_An Inspector Thomas Sullivan Thriller

by K. C. Sivils

His back turned to the wounded, smaller man, Donovan never saw Spillman before the terrified, injured man leaped on his back, initiating a choke hold. With Donovan’s throat locked in place in the crook of his right elbow, Spillman grasped his right wrist in his left, vowing to himself he would never let go.

  Annoyed Spillman had mustered the courage to attack, and from behind no less, while Donovan had worked the crowd, the bigger man reached behind his head and felt for Spillman’s face. Finding his eyes, the Earth Irishman thrust his thumbs into Spillman’s eye sockets. Ear splitting screams ensued, and the pressure on Donovan's throat cutting off his oxygen suddenly vanished.

  Turning, he looked at his wounded opponent. Blood trickling from Spillman’s left eye and the hand covering told Donovan he’d blinded his opponent in one eye.

  “I was going to let you live a few more rounds. Make it look like a real fight. Then I was going to end it quick. Not make you suffer. Now, I’m going to drag this out, play to the crowd. You’re going to regret what you just did,” the big man promised.

  “SIR, YOU CAN’T GET in without an event pass. I’m sorry.”

  Thankful the man whose suitcase he'd stolen not only had clothes that fit but an ample supply of cash credits, no doubt for gambling at the resort casino or other morally questionable activities.

  “Now young man,” Father Nathan said reasonably, a broad smile on his face. “The first fight has already started. By the time I go to my room at the resort, retrieve by pass and get back, the first fight card will be over.” His smile broadened further as he stuffed a thousand credit bill in the young man’s chest pocket on his event staff uniform. A look of disbelief was the priest’s reward, followed by a broad smile.

  “Sir, I do apologize. I see you have your event pass. Enjoy the fights.”

  Quickly the good Father hurried through the turnstile and made his way to the closest portal. He slowed his pace; carefully taking one step at a time, making sure not to trip on the rough surface of the steps hewn from the mass of grey-black basalt the arena was carved from.

  Spotting two vacant seats next to the aisle, he sat down. The crowd was growing restless as the ring girl strutted in a circle in the ring, holding up the digital sign announcing round three was about to start.

  The bell sounded and Donohue, in the blue trunks came out quickly. A battered Spillman, covered in his own blood from a multitude of cuts on his face and his destroyed left eye, hobbled away from his attacker. Father Nathan prayed the fight would end quickly.

  He’d seen enough slaughter in his life. Watching men kill for sport held no thrill for him.

  Evidently, the man sitting in front of Father Nathan was thrilled to be present either. He turned in his seat and smiled at the priest.

  “Amazing facility, isn’t it?”

  “I suppose,” the priest answered.

  “They tell me it was converted from an abandoned mine. Most of the tunnels and this big dome were already finished as a result of mineral extraction. All that was necessary was to finish the space off for human occupancy. You know, the lighting, seating, that sort of thing. It's amazing, the ingenuity of the human mind."

  Father Nathan reflected for a moment on humanity’s ability to engage in self-destructive behavior before replying to his new acquaintance. “Yes, amazing, simply amazing.”

  THE ROOM WAS SMALLER than the previous prison Sarah had been locked up in. Clothes had been left for her to change into. She picked them up and examined them before tossing them on the floor in disgust. Cheap, lacy black undergarments and thin cotton shorts and top. No doubt intended for Ellie to be able to easily rip them off Sarah, giving the audience a cheap thrill.

  If she had to fight, Sarah would do so on her own terms. Pulling out a scrunchy she kept in her coat pocket, Sarah pulled her long, brown hair into a ponytail. She fastened it against her head with the scrunchy and began braiding the hair tightly against her scalp. Ellie would have nothing to grab onto when Sarah finished.

  Sarah emptied her pockets; certain guard would search for weapons. Looking at what was available to her. Two small knives missed in the first search she'd undergone. Nothing else really held any value as a potential weapon. Setting her other few possessions aside, Sarah carefully placed one of the knives in the sheath on the medial side of her left boot. It was a bit far down to draw the knife easily. A problem Sarah was willing to deal with if it meant she could sneak the knife in the arena.

  The other knife she carefully stuck under the belt inside her pants, just below the small of her back. The guards would find it with ease and hopefully not search with the same diligence, leaving the knife in her boot unnoticed.

  With nothing left to do, Sarah sat down. The rules, what few there were, had been explained to her. Only one of the sisters would leave the ring alive.

  Closing her eyes, Sarah leaned back against the cold, prison grey wall. Her thoughts turned to memories of the first few months of her life. Good times with Maria and Ellie. Innocent times before their troubles had started, before Maria had been murdered and Ellie was taken.

  Pleasant memories Sarah seldom thought of anymore. There were too many horrible memories between the few good ones she had and the present. Going back to the happy times in the past always led to remembering the terrible times, the men, the hunters and the constant fear.

  The fear that led to the need to constantly be on the move, never in one place for too long. The fear the hunters would catch Sarah before she could find Ellie. The fear they would never be reunited.

  Now that Sarah had found Ellie, one of Sarah's greatest fears was about to come to pass. There would be only one of them after today.

  Tears fell, and Sarah knew why. She wasn't crying for Ellie. Sarah found herself crying for Sully.

  I READ THE MESSAGES from Josephson a second time. Just to make sure.

  Something had gotten into Markeson. Probably something highly questionable, but I didn’t care. The pup had told me this was an illegal gambling event of historic proportions.

  Markeson was on his way with police officers, the SWAT unit, and warrants. I was to delay things as much as possible. It was all right if I disrupted the fights.

  I got it. Seizure of property and cash. It was illegal to profit from organized criminal activity. Alliance law allowed for the seizure of assets from said activity. Portions of which would be block granted to the local authorities who made the raid. If the raids yielded a large enough haul, bonuses were paid out.

  Markeson no doubt had a warrant to freeze bank accounts. For a handsome fee he would then release the frozen funds, no questions asked. There would be, of course, the physical property seized. After Markeson had picked through the high-end items for what he wanted, the rest would go to the property clerk. Unless they wanted to do actual prison time instead of paying hefty fines, the wealthy elitists whose sick fantasies were met by the fights would stay quiet. It was only money.

  I didn’t care how much money Markeson made so long as he got here.

  I watched the barren surface of Persephone whiz by as the ground shuttle cruised at maximum low altitude speed. In the distance, the black line appeared. Like the moon of Earth, Persephone did not spin on its axis. It always presented the same side to Beta Prime. As it orbited the sun, a dark shadow moved across the moon's surface. With a full moon a day away, the dark side of the moon was indeed dark. All of the light from the system's sun was blocked.

  The shuttle blindly flew into the darkness. A silence fell over the talkative passengers as we recklessly hurled into oblivion mere meters above the surface of Persephone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  AT THE SOUND OF THE bell, Donohue stood and approached the center of the ring. Spillman didn’t move from his chair. His left eye, destroyed beyond repair, had swollen shut. His nose broken, lip split and cheeks lacerated, the man looked like he was near death. Spillman finally showed signs of life. With help from the handlers in his corner, he made it to his feet, stumbling forward towards
the center of the ring.

  “One more round, then I’ll end it,” Donohue told the smaller man. “You’ve suffered about enough.”

  Spillman’s face showed no recognition of the threat. The embezzler began moving to his left away from Donohue, raising only his right hand as a guard.

  “That’s what I thought,” Donohue taunted. “You’re dead already.” Pressing forward to set up a combination the thug was surprised when Spillman fell backward.

  “I didn’t even touch you,” Donohue roared. Angry Spillman was proving to be such a poor match for the big Earth Irishman, the crowd began to boo again, taunting the injured Spillman.

  “Get up. Be a man before you die,” Donohue raged.

  “No, you’re going to have to make me,” Spillman managed to get out.

  Uncertain how to press the attack, Donohue leaned over, finally deciding to jump on top of his victim and beat him to death. Spillman suddenly crawfished away, forcing Donohue to follow. Reaching the ropes, Spillman stopped and pulled his right knee up to his chest. Angry at the turn of events, Donohue stepped to the right side of Spillman and landed a brutal kick to the man’s ribs, cracking several in the process.

  Gloating, the thug stood still to admire his handiwork. Specks of blood appeared on Spillman’s face as he coughed, struggling to breathe. Without warning, Spillman launched his right leg forward in a sweeping motion, impacting the side of the left knee of his tormentor. Ligaments snapped, causing Donohue to topple backward.

  Sensing a possible chance to live, Spillman scurried forward and straddled his fallen opponent's hips. He rained down blows with what remaining strength he had, first smashing Donohue's nose and then focusing his strikes on the eyes. After the initial wave of pain in his knee passed, Donohue recovered and raised his hands to defend his face. Spillman kept up throwing punches, each blow becoming weaker until he was exhausted.

  Pausing for one second, the fading Spillman realized Donohue's throat was unprotected. Mustering the last of his remaining strength he struck, fracturing Donohue's larynx and windpipe. Spillman rolled away from the Earth Irishman, crawling back to his corner. He'd struck a deathblow.

  All he had to do was survive long enough for the sadist to suffocate.

  ELLIE LOOKED IN THE mirror, turning to the side to get a good view. Dressed in a one-piece black form-fitting outfit, she liked what she saw. Elbows, knees, forearms, and shins all had steel plating hidden away, giving her an edge in the coming fight. Her shoulders were covered with an additional protective layer of what looked and felt like thick leather. She’d pulled her hair into a tight bun to keep Sarah from using it to gain any kind of advantage.

  One final check of the makeup applied by the makeup artist and Ellie was satisfied. The effect of the cosmetics had been to highlight her lips, cheeks and most of all, her eyes.

  “The crowd will love me,” Ellie purred. “They will just love me. Sarah will get no support from the audience.

  She sat down to relax before it was time.

  Ellie thought back over the few years of her life. For clones, the lives of her and her two sisters had been fair. She'd never felt particularly attached to either Sarah or Maria, but they'd been her sisters, and that had meant something to her. Maria's death at the hands of a psychopath had saddened her but nothing like Sarah’s reaction.

  Of course, Sarah was weak. It had been that weakness that caused Sarah to show her true colors when the time to step up and be brave had presented itself. Like the coward, her sole remaining sister was, Sarah had abandoned Ellie when the hunters had come for them.

  It was all perfectly clear now. Sarah had been jealous of Ellie’s gifts. Of the three clones to come from the same tank, Ellie had been the most gifted, the most worthy of life. It should have been an obvious choice for Sarah. To allow herself to be captured so Ellie could escape.

  Instead, her precious sister had roamed the galaxy enjoying her freedom, gallivanting around until Sarah found a sugar daddy to take care of her. Ellie smiled at the thought. Sarah had managed even to mess that up. How stupid could one clone be, to show up in the one place that would lead to her death?

  Sarah deserved what Ellie was going to do. The odds were on Ellie’s side.

  DISAPPOINTING WAS THE best word Gravestone could think of for the first fight. Ellie had been right in picking the underdog Spillman. Donohue’s death had been agonizing. Even worse, painfully boring to watch. Spillman had refused to attack again. It had taken nearly three rounds before Donohue succumbed to his injuries. Only a stroke of genius from one of the augmenteds had kept the crowd from leaving or becoming unmanageable. They'd taken wagers on what round Donohue would expire. It had been enough to maintain the interest of the spectators.

  Gravestone glanced at Corona. The man looked horrible. His face was pale with dark rings under his eyes. Corona slouched in his chair, staring into the distance of the arena. She looked back at the ring below. Her lover simply was not up to the task of rising in the ranks of the Society. Sacrifices had to be made to gain power, status, and wealth.

  Why should the sacrifices all be hers? Those beings who were less than her would make those sacrifices. It was the least they could do. It would make their miserable existences have meaning. Why else had they been born?

  The ring of the bell brought Gravestone’s attention back to the ring. The fourth fight on the card proved to have the most promise so far. The ring announcer read the sentences the two inmates were serving. Doing twenty to life, the challenger was a serial rapist with a penchant for sexual sadism. The victor was serving a life sentence for a contract killing.

  It was the next fight, the last on the morning fight card Gravestone was looking forward to the most. She wondered if was possible to change the schedule, saving the fight for the final round of bouts late in the day. Gravestone decided against the move and ordered herself not to think of the issue again.

  Watching identical twin sisters fight to the death would be a surprise for the audience. The wagering would be through the roof. It helped the two girls were such beauties. Gravestone felt a tingling sensation run up her spine. Yes, a good, bloody catfight would be just the thing.

  With a wave of her hand, Gravestone summoned the inmate waiter. Pointing at the chilled bottle of wine, she indicated her desire for a glass. The sound of the bell announced the beginning of the second fight.

  I IGNORED THE PILOT’S order to remain seated until the shuttle landed. I hung my badge around my neck and pulled my .50 caliber.

  Nobody said a word to me.

  I listened for the sound of the airlock cycling to finish, growing more impatient by the second. The door opened, and two armed guards were waiting, weapons at the ready. Somebody had signaled ahead.

  I struck the one to my right with my pistol, opening a gash across his forehead. The second guard I dropped with a knee to his chest. A kick to his head rendered him unconscious like his partner.

  Never send kids to a man’s job.

  I hurried to the second air lock, hitting the closing mechanism switch behind me. I stood impatiently waiting for the second lock to open. This time I had my backup piece in my left hand. The air lock door opened. The first thing the two guards’ saw was the dark inside of a kinesthetic projectile weapon’s barrel.

  “Don’t make me,” I warned.

  Used to confronting cons with the advantage of superior numbers, technology and the prison A.I. Sally, these two weren’t interested in challenging me.

  “Cuff yourselves,” I ordered. I motioned to the guard on my left. He holstered his weapon and pulled out his cuffs. He turned to his partner to cuff him. His partner had other ideas. I could see it in his eyes.

  I hadn't killed anyone today and didn't want to start just yet. I adjusted my aim slightly and pulled the trigger. Both guards fell like they were dead.

  “Loud isn’t it.”

  Using the cuffs from the first guard, I handcuffed the one with itchy fingers before taking his to use on the smarter
of the two guards.

  He was young, so I gave the itchy one a bit of wisdom, not that he would listen.

  “Never try to draw on a man who has the drop on you and has no problem with pulling the trigger.”

  To help him remember the lesson, I tapped itchy fingers in the head, sending him off to dreamland.

  I cycled the second lock closed as well. It would buy me a few more minutes.

  “Which way to the arena,” I asked the guard.

  "Take a right at the junction. It will get you to the concourse.”

  He’d been helpful. I decided he didn’t need the awful headache his partner would wake up with.

  “MY EYE’S KILLING ME,” Spillman complained. “When are we going to see a doctor?”

  “Shut up,” the guard in charge ordered. “You got your pardon.”

  Spillman froze, stopping in his tracks. “I wasn’t a victor. I have to fight again.”

  Realizing his mistake the lead guard turned and pointed his club at Spillman. “Lucky day. The Warden signed your pardon anyhow. Now move.”

  “No. Something isn’t right.”

  The other two winners were victors, eager to leave Persephone.

  “Shut up, Spillman. You got a pardon. You only had to kill once. Don’t think about it,” the bloodier of the two yelled.

  Needing to get things done on schedule, Spillman’s guards took him by the arms roughly and dragged him forward. Reaching the end of the dimly lit corridor, they stopped at the elevator. The lead guard leaned over to activate the retinal scanner. Seconds later the doors to the elevator opened.

  “When you get to the surface, the doctor will be there to patch you up. You’ll be given your pardon chip, don't lose it, your possessions will be returned to you along with a set of civilian clothes. The shuttle will take you to the space station. Go to the customer service desk, and you'll be given a one-way ticket to any world."