Yellowcake Summer

by Guy Salvidge

  “You think we want violence here?” he asked. “This is a peaceful community. Don’t tar us with your redneck stereotypes.”

  “You can save that PR bullshit,” she said. “That crap might wash in Advertising but you’re in Security now, Jeremy, in among the hard heads. I know what you’re liable to do if the protesters try to breach the border – and they will try – but just remember what’s at stake here. The State Government might be all for the expansion of the Protectorate but the Federal Government isn’t as keen. Don’t make this an election issue for them or they’ll drop you like a sack of shit.”

  “Running for pre-selection, are you Superintendent?” he said.

  “I’m just warning you what might happen if you start pulling triggers when they don’t need pulling, all right? Bad enough that David Baron killed himself; just think what another death could do. This whole Misanthropos thing could snowball, and if it does, you can forget about expanding your Protectorate. You’ll be lucky not to be shut down.”

  “Go rattle your sabre somewhere else. It bores me,” he said. “Give me Rion and you’ve got your understanding. No corpses. Now here’s my condition: you get your police force up here. You can station them in Ridge Point, just outside the Protectorate. The protesters are your problem. You feed them, you shelter them, and you police them. Your country.”

  “Already happening,” she said.

  “So we understand one another,” he said. “That’s beautiful.”

  “Rion will be flown up later this afternoon, after we’ve finished processing him. That’s another thing. He’s yours for as long as you need him, but not indefinitely. He’s still an Australian citizen and he still has rights.”

  He nodded yes and wound up the call.

  He had an idea what use Rion might be put to and he doubted that anything in Australian law would cover it. First he’d grill him for anything he knew about the Fearless Six and June First, and then there would be time for a little experiment. Friday was a long way off yet and he’d had Lyncoln Rose agree to hand Rion over in exchange for something the Grand Director had told Jeremy to do anyway. Hui still wasn’t talking to him but that suited him fine. His blood pressure had fallen a little and he thought he might be able to get his sex life up and running again with the right stimulus. That stimulus might even be Lui Ping.

  He sat at his desk for some time, repetitively opening and closing the lid on a box of mints and trying to get his scattered thoughts into some semblance of order. The drink in the desk wasn’t helping him to concentrate, but it was early yet. The best way to defeat your enemies is to let them think they’ve defeated you, the Grand Director had said, but what did it mean? Obviously it had something to do with Controlled Waking State. The Grand Director had ordered experienced CWS technicians flown in from the homeland, and the firmware on the system at the barracks was being updated, so it was clear that it was intended for Jeremy to use CWS against the protesters in some way. But the details remained murky. He was on thin ice with Li and so one way or another he’d need to work it out on his own.

  You couldn’t really call this lunchtime yet, so he’d better tie up a few loose ends before making his escape. He rang Tiffany at the Receptacle and her round face and curly hair appeared before him.

  “Jeremy,” she said. “How’s it going?”

  “Very well, Tiffany,” he said. “Have you got a minute?”

  She looked harried, defensive. “Um, maybe five minutes, if it’s quick?”

  “I just wanted to touch base with you. Nothing urgent.”

  Her eyes said that she wanted no touching and no bases with him. “Sure thing,” she said.

  “What do you make of the Great Criminal offing himself?” he asked, ignoring her coldness. “Bit of a surprise?”

  “My goodness, yes,” she replied. “I didn’t think he’d have the guts, did you? Thought he was all talk. Always did.”

  “He’s surprised us again. You know Sylvia’s going to be leading the protest, don’t you? Cheeky bitch.”

  “We did put her in prison,” she pointed out. “What are you thinking? You want to try to win her over? Is that what this is about?”

  Win her over? His mind ticked. “Maybe we could try,” he said. “I was thinking more about Rion. Remember him? That outlander who showed up right before the attack. He got away in the aftermath. I’ve had him arrested; he’s going to be here later today.”

  “No, I don’t remember him.”

  He nodded, knowing all too well that she wanted rid of him now. “How’s Advertising holding up?” he asked.

  “Did you read my December report?”

  “Ah, not yet.”

  “It’s on the shared drive.”

  “Right, yes,” he said.

  Silence. Stares.

  “How’s Clarissa working out in VE?” he asked.

  Tiffany started to cross her arms but checked herself. “Not bad. You want her over there? I’m sure you could find a use for her.”

  She dangled the bait and it set off a palpable surge in his groin, but even he couldn’t be that stupid, could he? He forced the right words out: “No, I just wanted to see if she’s working out okay in Virtual Engineering.”

  “Right. I’ll send her your regards, shall I?”

  “Please.”

  “Okay, I’m snowed under so I’d better go. Wait, I heard that you’re starting up that Controlled Waking State trial again?”

  “The Grand Director specifically asked me to, yes.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” she said. “This protest thing is putting a dampener on everything. You should see the immigration statistics; they’re way down. And what we’re getting is nearly all from China.”

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed,” he said. The changing demographic was apparent to everyone. That was David Baron’s real legacy: fear of radiation had driven out the Australians. The strontium and caesium levels were higher than normal but still well within legal limits. Both had a half-life of around thirty years, which was hopefully a lot longer than people’s memories. “How are you going to spin that?” he asked.

  “Who knows?” she said. “You just worry about that protest march and I’ll worry about the spin. You don’t think Yang Po is coming back, do you?”

  “No way,” he assured her. Both of their current positions were dependent on that. “He’s always had a dicky heart. He’s run his race.”

  “Hope so.” She nodded curtly and rang off.

  “I’m at a meeting in town, Natasha,” he said to his PA on his way out. She was a pretty thing – blonde, good legs – but he’d made it his badge of honour not to start in on her. The Grand Director might not have much confidence in Jeremy’s self-control but then what did he know? It must be easy to keep your cool when you’re in cryostasis.

  He made his way out, smiling and nodding at the hordes of anonymous workers hereabouts, not wanting to open his mouth for fear of revealing the fact that he still barely knew any of their names. His standards had slipped – to be fair, they’d fallen off a cliff – but then he was a busy man and he had a lot on his plate right now. He didn’t feel like walking as it was about a million degrees out there, so he took the lift down to the basement. Lately he’d stopped using the bus and started getting around in his private flitter. Yes, it made him conspicuous on the streets of Yellowcake Springs, but the people ought to know who their Director of Security was, oughtn’t they? The position conferred a certain privilege.

  The Centaur was nearly empty at this hour but Philippe showed no surprise at seeing him. Lunch had been starting earlier and lasting that much longer just recently.

  “A drink, sir?” the restaurateur asked.

  “No,” Jeremy said. “I have a twelve o’clock rule.”

  The faintest of smiles crossed Philippe’s lips and he bowed slightly. “Very well.” He showed Jeremy to his seat.

  8. The Terms

  The room they had Rion in was chilly and the light was harsh. The t
able was moulded into the floor and the chairs were made of plastic. One wall was a slightly different colour from the rest: it had a green metallic tinge. He knew that they could see him through it. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty and he’d been allowed to sleep alone and unmolested in a bed, albeit in a cell. He’d had no contact with Vanya since they’d left Yew yesterday and he had no idea whether Marcel lived or, if so, where he’d been taken. He might even be in this building. Callum was dead, so in a sense Rion had achieved his retribution, but he took little comfort from that. Trouble followed him wherever he went, an old trouble that dated back to an even older one, and the oldest of his troubles was simply his existence as a whole.

  He looked up as the door opened, having heard footsteps. Police officers came into the room, three of them. They sat encircling him. The two men were dressed in shirts stencilled with their names and the third, a woman, wore a black suit. She did not look precisely unkind, only remote.

  “Orion, isn’t it?” the woman asked.

  “Rion.”

  “Rion, we’d like to ask you a few questions. I’m Superintendent Lyncoln Rose of the Australian Federal Police and these are Officers Cassidy and Forster.”

  Rion said nothing. He did not make eye contact with the Superintendent and as there was nowhere else to look he looked down at the floor.

  “I’m afraid you’ve landed yourself in hot water, Rion,” she said. “It’s lucky for you that AFP officers rescued you when they did. Want to tell me what happened?”

  Rion looked at her. Her eyes were grey, her face expressionless. “They were going to hand me over to you,” he said.

  “They knew we were coming? How?”

  “I told them. You didn’t need to start shooting; I wasn’t anything to them.”

  “And your friend Vanya?”

  “Even less,” Rion said. “So what do you want with me?”

  “I’ll be frank with you: it’s more a question of what we don’t want. Let’s see.” The Superintendent read from a tablet. “Feel free to stop me if I get anything wrong. You’re from the Restricted Zone originally and yet somehow you managed to get yourself into Yellowcake Springs, inside the CIQ Sinocorp Protectorate, which is a feat in itself. This happened to be right at the time of the June First attack in ‘58. You slipped away after the attack and had yourself registered with Hub-Nexus in Perth, where you held a job, paid taxes and generally kept your head down for more than three years. CIQ Sinocorp tried to extradite you back to the Protectorate but they soon lost interest. Late last year you were drafted into the Civilian Police Force and by some strange misfortune your post was to the very town in the Restricted Zone you ran away from originally. Right so far?”

  “More or less.”

  “You were in East Hills for a month or so before the CPF commander there posted you and two others to a farm halfway between East Hills and Yew. It’s at this point that we caught up with you, but instead of behaving yourself and being civilised you did a runner with young Vanya and ended up in Yew. The local militia took an instant dislike to you and put you in some kind of holding room, at which point special forces were sent in to extract you. They did this successfully but not without considerable loss of life among the local populace.”

  “The world’s better off without one of those guys, but I dunno about the others. You probably killed them for no reason.”

  “You accept my summary of events as accurate, yes?”

  Rion shrugged. “Okay. So what?”

  “So now you’re going to explain something that has me completely perplexed. For a start, why did Sinocorp let you into Yellowcake Springs in the first place? You had no ID, no documents, no nothing, and yet they let you in. Furthermore, you came into town on the recommendation of one Sylvia Baron, and I’m sure I don’t need to remind you who that is. This is right at the time of the June First attack; it’s all on public record. Care to explain any of this?”

  “It was a coincidence,” Rion said. “David Baron was part of the plot and Sylvia knew nothing about it, at least I don’t think she did. That’s why the charges against her were dropped, wasn’t it?”

  Lyncoln Rose shook her head. “It gets better. After you got away and registered with Hub-Nexus, CIQ Sinocorp tried, in fairly perfunctory fashion, to have you brought back. But you were an Australian citizen and it’s not that easy. They could have applied some pressure in certain places but they didn’t and the whole thing blew over. You must have been very relieved. Fast forward three years and Sylvia is released without charge. David isn’t so lucky and ends up on death row, where he commits suicide. Clyde Owen and Patrick Crews receive reduced sentences for testifying against David. Meanwhile you are gallivanting around the countryside with a shotgun given to you by the CPF. You might have been allowed to do so indefinitely or at least until such a time that you got yourself shot, which probably wouldn’t have been long, but no. It’s now, more than three years after June First, that Sinocorp have started taking an interest in you again. You explain that to me.”

  Rion’s heart thudded. “Sinocorp want me now? That’s why I’m here?”

  The Superintendent looked at him, frowning. “That’s right. What do you say to that?”

  “I say that I’m an Australian citizen and that I have rights. You can’t hand me over to them for no reason.”

  “I have plenty of reasons,” she said. The other two officers might have been mannequins, such was their contribution. “And you haven’t given me any reason not to hand you over. People are dead because of you and you’ve tied up a considerable amount of police resources. You’re lucky not to be facing serious charges over that.”

  “Hand me over then, it’s all the same.” But it wasn’t. Here he might not have many rights, but in Yellowcake Springs it would be another matter.

  “You still haven’t given me anything at all, have you?”

  “Why should I?”

  “Because I imagine that without our protection you’ll be extraordinarily vulnerable in the Protectorate, that’s why. This is basically the Chinese Government we’re talking about. Do you know what their track record on treatment of prisoners is like?”

  Blackmail. “Just tell me what you want and what you’re going to do for me,” he said.

  “You can go in there as you are now, meaning that you’ll be entirely unprotected and at the mercy of CIQ Sinocorp, or you can go in with our protection.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning you can go in in such a way that we would know what’s happening to you at all times. If CIQ Sinocorp try anything in violation of the Protectorate’s charter, then we can extract you.”

  “You don’t care about me, so stop pretending that you do,” he said. “If you did, you wouldn’t send me at all.”

  “You might think that, but let’s put it a little differently. You’ve caused me a great deal of grief just recently and in my view you owe me a debt. Pay that debt back and you’re a free man.”

  “I’ve heard that kind of shit before,” Rion said. “Just tell me what you mean by your protection.”

  The Superintendent nodded to Officer Forster, who produced a small, silver object shaped like a miniature bullet. He placed it on the table in front of Rion.

  “You want me to assassinate someone?”

  “No, this thing goes inside your head. It’s called an SCA, which stands for Sensory Capture Array. We’ll see what you see and hear what you hear at all times, every moment of the day.”

  “I’m like a spy.”

  “If you like,” she said. “Now, Sinocorp will probably suspect that you have been implanted like this. It’s a new technology but they aren’t unaware of it. So if questioned you’re to emphatically deny that you’ve been implanted. The SCA doesn’t show up in CT scans as it’s embedded in your cerebral cortex and imitates ordinary brain matter.”

  “What if they cut it out; won’t that give them your precious technology?”

  “They have something like it already, so we ar
en’t massively concerned about that. But if they cut it out, then we won’t have a use for you anymore, will we? We won’t be getting any information, so we won’t be able to help you any further.”

  “What if I refuse to participate?”

  “I’m not actually giving you that option. You’re going to Yellowcake Springs and you’re going to be SCA-ed. Your only choice is whether you’re going to tell Sinocorp about it or not. Think about it: play along and stay useful to us, or reveal yourself as one of our agents and you’re on your own. Let me tell you this though, they don’t take kindly to people snooping around inside their Protectorate. Makes them angry.”

  Rion nodded. “Let’s say I do this for you and they don’t find out. Then what?”

  “I know you’ve been out of the picture for a while so I’ll fill you in,” she said. “There’s going to be a protest march outside Yellowcake Springs this Friday. Sylvia Baron’s going to be there leading it. We want you inside the town so that we can see what’s going on in the lead-up to the event. And of course we also want to know what Sinocorp wants with you in general, as either you don’t know or you’re keeping very quiet about it. Once the protest is over, we’ll secure your release.”

  “And then?”

  “Then the SCA will be surgically removed and you’ll be free to go.”

  “No more CPF service?”

  “It will be considered that you’ll have completed your service to the CPF. This means you’ll get the whole six months’ pay. It’s enough to get you back on your feet and get yourself a new apartment.”

  Rion sat back. He said nothing for a few seconds. “It’s not like I have a choice, do I?” he eventually said. “I’ll do it on the condition that you release Marcel and Vanya. They don’t have anything to do with this. Marcel’s all right, isn’t he?”