by S. J. Higbee
When I’d been hauled back to Restormel by the scruff of my neck, I’d brought Axil along with me as he’d started pining for his beloved stacks. Because his proper job, when he wasn’t terrifying wrong-headed adminites into doing the right thing, was running the Procurement warehouse. So as well as working, eating and sleeping there to keep pace with the sudden spike in demand for everything necessary to run a successful campaign, he was busy setting a trap for our spy.
And this message meant someone had taken the bait.
My predecessor, William Norman, was the paranoid sort. He’d had a whole complex of tunnels built into the walls, under floors and over ceilings, honeycombing Restormel. After I took over as leader, I had a trusted team investigate these secret corridors, checking for booby traps and mapping exactly where they went. In those chancy, early days there was a strong possibility that one of the factions angry at my appointment as Chief might decide to do something aggressively terminal about it. And as there were plenty of escape routes hidden throughout the complex, it seemed stupid not to use them.
I didn’t make a habit of resorting to these tunnels. However on this particular night, when marching through the middle of Restormel would be bound to attract attention from the insomniacs still drifting around in significant numbers, it was the obvious route to Procurement. I flipped open the HiddenMenu on my coms.
If only Tomas had chanced upon this when he’d rootled through here, he’d be upright and breathing right now. Because if he’d tried opening this layer of commands on my com, an alarm would have pealed out loud enough to bring Jessica back from the dead and I’d have caught him red-handed before he’d been able to mess with the codings. It would have ensued in an almighty row and been the end of our relationship, but he would have at least survived the experience. And thousands of people would still be alive…
I swallowed the lump in my throat – no time for those thoughts. We were on our way to catch a drosser who’d cost us hundreds of thousands of creds and too many hurt and dead soldiers. I opened the door of one of the flyer-sized wardrobes lining the far wall of my bedroom, stepped inside it and pressed a hidden button. The back slid aside to reveal a dark opening and a blast of chilly air smelling of plascrete and dust. I keyed in our destination and slotted my coms into a slightly jutting brick on the left side of the tunnel. There was a buzzing hum and a series of wall lights flickered on, stretching to a junction about ten feet ahead of me.
Eileen, Chas and Ralph were on duty. Fortunately, the corridor was clear so they were all able to step inside my apartment without anyone noticing.
“We’re on our way to Procurement via the tunnels,” I muttered.
Chas nodded. He’d been one of the original team who’d mapped this hidden complex. Eileen and Ralph, however, were visibly shocked when confronted by the dimly lit exit stretching away from the back of my wardrobe. I retrieved my com from the wall-slot – the information had downloaded onto the direction-finder in nanosecs. All we had to do was follow the lit tunnels and we’d find ourselves in Procurement.
Ralph went first, then Eileen, followed by me, with Chas bringing up the rear. At least these tunnels were full height, even if they only allowed us to walk in single file. We needed to keep quiet – no point in having these secret passages if we clattered through them loudly enough to be heard. Another detail I endeavoured to deal with when I had the floors all carpeted.
Our route regularly intersected with others, cris-crossing or branching off to the left or right and we always took the lit option. Although the lighting flickered at times, it never failed. I shivered as the chill seeped through my uniform and the smell of old mortar gathered at the back of my throat. Our way was swathed by cobwebs and in places, Ralph was punching his way through a grey gauzy barrier. I flinched at the sight of him draped in the remains of those thick webs, though of course I had to behave as if all those disgusting spiders and their vile webs didn’t bother me. As Jessica pointed out, it wouldn’t do to squeal like some know-nothing over a mere insect.
Spiders aren’t insects, Jessica, they’re arachnids. She disappeared without saying a word – her regular tactic when I offered up an info-nugget she didn’t know.
We’d just branched off from yet another intersection, when the lit corridor suddenly jinked sideways as it doglegged off to the left, leaving the way forward a dark maw. Finally, we were nearly there, with only the spiral staircase to negotiate.
Ralph, who’d intrepidly pushed his way through billowing curtains of webs, now hesitated at the top of the stairs cork-screwing down away from us and disappearing beyond the loom of the weak light. He glanced back at Eileen, who impatiently gestured for him to get on with it. Each tread was scarcely wide enough for my feet. I had no idea how Chas with his huge boots was faring behind me and decided I wouldn’t insult him by turning around to check. However, it didn’t prevent me from offering up a fervent prayer to any passing deity that he’d safely get to the bottom, given that I’d be the one cushioning his fall. After edging carefully downwards round and round until I was dizzy, we reached the bottom without any incident.
The tunnel continued in two directions, though again, it was clear exactly where we were going. The lit section only stretched ahead of us for another ten feet or so, before ending in a set of doors. We’d arrived at Procurement.
I moved forward, put my hand on the handle, at the same time flicking a button on my com to kill the lights and plunging us back into darkness. It always makes me proud when the training sticks – apart from a sharp intake of breath from Ralph, my escort didn’t utter a sound. Absolute blackness pressed in around us. A weird feeling, when opening and closing my eyes made no difference to the light levels. So I slowly eased the handle down and inched the door open.
The cupboard on the other side of the door was ajar and the space beyond it well lit, so I was easily able to see the ranks of parked laddercarts off to the side and work out exactly where we were. We’d turned up in the Procurement warehouse, around the corner from the shelving stacks which stretched up to the vaulted ceilings. The lighting, though in night mode, still was sufficient to see what was going on. And hear a solitary laddercart trundling across the face of one of the cliff-high shelving stacks.
Someone was breaking all sorts of rules by riding a laddercart after hours. For a mad moment, I found myself hoping it was some newbie acting out a stupid dare. Please don’t let it be our spy. Please don’t make me have to execute someone else…
Get a grip, Lizzy! You need a bilgerat like this on the loose like you need a staled airpac.
Oh good. You’re back. Hopefully, she’d realise I was being sarcastic.
I sigged for Chas to take the lead. He soundlessly edged out of the cupboard to do a reccie, while we waited in the cramped gloom for what seemed a long light year.
Who has sold us out, that Axil requires such high-level proof? A question that had been cycling around my head whenever the other thousand and one other details jostling for my attention stopped jumping up and down for a nanosec. Sweat trickled down my back and it wasn’t because I was hot.
Eileen was leaning forward, looking through the crack in the door, alert for any movement, while Ralph was trying to brush cobwebs off his uniform. I shuddered and shifted away from him as a couple of spiders scuttered across his back. Fortunately, at this point Chas returned and signalled for us to follow, taking the lead, with me right behind him, while Ralph and Eileen brought up the rear. Easing the cupboard door open, he led the way towards the serried rows of stacks, where every item our people needed was stored in bins stretching up and across the vast space.
During peak demand, this huge shelving complex was cris-crossed with laddercarts. Some were automated, tracking back and forth to the most regularly used bins for the most popular stock ites. However, we also had a staff of ladderpickers who spent their days restocking or filling orders to and from these stacks. It rang with the sound of voices, the whine of the laddercarts, occasional warnin
g klaxons and Axil’s booming instructions at regular intervals. I’d enjoyed my time working down here. They were a solidly good crew to work with, and once I got over my initial fear of the height, I’d loved zipping across the vertical tracks in the laddercarts.
This place had quite a different feel now, though, with the sound of the single laddercart making its way right to the edge of the stack. Chas led us to the corner of that section, where Axil waited, grim-faced. He nodded to the autocams in the bins opposite, tracking the progress of the laddercart.
Whoever this person is, he must be stupid, as well as double-dealing and greedy. What made him think he could continue getting away with this?
Maybe because he already has for far too long! Jessica’s anger reverberated through my skull. She was all for resurrecting Norman’s habit of forcing his victims to eat their own barbequed testicles as punishment for this individual.
The laddercart was travelling reasonably slowly, allowing us plenty of time to get organised. Axil was in place to make the initial encounter, while Chas and I waited at the intersection and Eileen positioned herself behind the park zone, all of us ready to cut off any possible retreat, and Ralph – a crack shot – tucked himself into the shadows cast by the night lighting, poised to fire if it proved necessary. Whoever he was, this scumsac’s spying career was about to come to an end.
The towering stacks loomed above us, the night-mode lighting flinging deep shadows that seemed to shift and yawn. A wave of nausea washed through me. Once more I was entangled in catching someone I probably knew and trusted. Someone whose life was about to be cut short.
I’d grown up with Mum’s accounts of her merc adventures with the P’s. Her eyes would sparkle and her expression – normally wary or drunkenly slack – would lighten and I’d see glimpses of the beautiful girl who’d caught William Norman’s attention, while she’d describe action against another merc force, or some brigand band. I closed my eyes, knowing I’d never recount this slice of action with any joy and wondering dismally how my childhood dream to be part of the same mercenary force could have twisted into this broken reality. I was jerked out of my miserypit by the sound of the laddercart slowing as our traitor finally reached the bottom, stopping in the park zone.
Our traitor wasn’t some limber youngster in his prime judging by the muffled groan as he scrambled awkwardly out of the high-sided vehicle. But then, Axil had ensured that he was encumbered with a bulky prototype of our ‘latest’ suit shielding. He still had his back to me, wearing a P’s standard issue exercise kit, which was probably his cover while moving around Restormel. Our people regularly hit the gym when sleep wouldn’t come.
“Hey, Phil,” Axil’s growl tore through the pent silence as he stepped out from the shadows.
Phil? The name was familiar – someone I knew talked about him a lot…
He jerked to a halt. “Axil! My god, you gave me heart failure.”
Relief blasted through me. He’s some ladderpicker. No wonder Axil looks so angry. He must be furious that one of his own team is such a shoddy double-dealer.
Axil was built like a small flyer and I fully understood why Phil took a stumbling step backward at the murderous expression on his face. Perhaps that’s why he wants so many witnesses as insurance against his own instincts to beat this snake to a bloody pulp.
“What’re you doin’ here? With that?” Axil nodded at the awkward package Phil was clutching.
Phil’s attempt at a laugh stirred my memory further.
I’ve spoken to this bloke at some P’s functions and I didn’t like him, or his donkey-bray then, either. Meanwhile, I watched Chas’s stealthy approach from behind, all set to jab his weapon between Phil’s shoulder blades.
“You work with her – you know how she can be…” Phil’s false bonhomie was painful. “She’s been tied up with all that prodding Council nonsense and only walked through the door a short while ago. Then recalled she needed to have a report ready on this new suit shielding for the Chief first thing in the morning.” Phil shook his head, conveying disgust at the sad performance of this unknown woman who had him running such chores in the middle of the night.
However, all he managed to do was thoroughly infuriate Axil. “Don’ you dare ter bring her inter yer proddin’ treason!”
Which was when Chas stepped forward and dug his weapon into Phil’s back, before frisking him. “Put that parcel on the ground. Slowly. And raise your hands.”
“What’re you doing? This is madness!” Phil raised his shaking hands.
He’s as guilty as sin, may he rot in the bottom of a black hole! Jessica’s fury slid past me, as I suddenly realised the identity of the woman he’d been talking about.
Phil was Diana’s husband. The chap she constantly worried about, while trying to hold down one of the most demanding jobs in the whole organisation. My gut twisted. Diana White was a conscientious soul who worked long hours to keep Procurement running. And this waste of space had decided, for reasons of his own, to turn traitor and endanger her career and the whole future of the P’s by selling our most effective ordnance to Eddy.
Suddenly Axil’s twitchy insistence that we all be here to witness his arrest made sense. It was an open secret that Axil worshipped the air Diana breathed. Indeed, the only person who appeared oblivious of the fact, was Diana.
I stepped out of the shadows and stood alongside Axil. “Are you sure about this? Seeing as this is Diana’s husband, there’s a good chance he’s telling the truth. What would he gain by lying to us? He’ll surely know that if he does so, we have plenty of ways to force the truth out of him.”
He licked his lips, his eyes wide and pleading as he nodded hard enough to wobble his jowls. He’d probably been handsome when younger, though his big brown eyes were red-veined and his body bloated.
Axil scowled. “Think I’d drag you outta yer bed if I wasn’ rock-solid sure?”
“He’s always hated me!” Phil bleated. “Wants Diana for himself. Wouldn’t put it past him to set this whole slimy business up to get me out of the way!”
I hesitated, looking at Axil’s stormy face and then back to Phil. “Mm. Diana will be very upset.”
“Yer think I don’ know that?” Axil roared, his huge hands clenched into fists. “I’d cut me own throat rather’n hurt a hair on her head. An’ you reckon I’d fix this up jus’ ter warp this piece’ve barscum outta the way?”
Eileen appeared at his shoulder. “Easy! Take the yelling down a notch or ten, if you please. This is the Chief you’re bawling at, remember.”
“She thinks I’d pull such a stunt, then she’s right in line fer the yellin’ of her life.”
“Diana always says what a good-hearted girl you are,” confided Phil, favouring me with a wide grin.
I smiled right back at him. “I’m sure we’ll get this sorted in no time flat. Just suck the end of this.” I held out a spit stick.
Phil’s grin slipped. “Surely, you know it’s me? Phil White, husband of Diana White, one of your most loyal followers.”
“Of course, Phil. But we need to iron out this mistake and the quickest way of doing that is getting a solid ident—”
“It ain’t no blix-up!” roared Axil. “Jus’ look at what he’s bin helpin’ his sorry self to!” Phil flicked a nervous glance at Axil, before hurriedly shoving the spit stick into his mouth and handing it back to me.
“Thanks, Phil.” I made sure to keep smiling at him while I slotted the spit stick into the DNA reader and flipped it into Search Mode. If Phil had so much as sneezed in the wrong place anywhere in and around Restormel, this tracker would find out within the hour. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Meantime, why don’t we take the weight off our feet somewhere a bit cosier?” I shivered, looking around the gloomy cavernous space. “This place is creepy at night, isn’t it? And Diana’s office is only around the corner.”
“Er. I don’t know her office passcode.” However, the tension in his shoulder under my hand told me he was lyin
g.
“That’s no problem. I got overrides to all the passcodes in the complex. C’mon.” I swept ahead, as Ralph emerged from the shadows and inserted himself between me and Phil, who followed with Eileen flanking him and Chas behind, still pointing a weapon at his back.
As we marched along the aisle leading to the doors which were perpetually guarded, the lighting brightened. Although I could have followed the route in pitch darkness, I knew the way to Diana’s office so very well. After all, it used to be mine.
The guards standing outside the doors were wide-eyed with surprise as we emerged and twitchily insistent on checking all our idents, including Phil’s.
I jerked my head towards him, once the guards ascertained I was the Chief. “This man didn’t pass you on the way into the stacks, then?”
“No, Chief,” replied one guard, while the other shook her head, scowling at him.
“Well of course I didn’t!” Phil was sweating. “Didn’t want Diana to look a fool, did I? After all, she struggles to keep on top of all of this. Doesn’t need the meat-locks sneering down their helmeted noses at her, does she now?”
“Struggles? She does a stimmin’ job, is what she does!” growled Axil, who joined us, now carrying the armour Phil had dropped when we apprehended him.
We walked through the Procurement admin area to Diana’s office. Vidpics of Phil and their two children cluttered her desk and the wall behind her chair. I was sick to my stomach of the whole shoddy affair as I flung myself into the seat where I’d spent so many long hours.
The DNA reader bleeped. I looked at Phil’s spit-locked records and back up to where he was standing, crowded by a glowering Axil looming over him. That’s interesting…
“Eileen, take this DNA sample and fire up a posse of scanbots to track Phil’s movements. Though you don’t need to bother with the escape exit through the women’s toilets. Cos this says he marched right past the guards.” Who must also be in on this scam. So more mayhem and bloodshed…
No grinning from Phil now.