Within the Water

by Kelly Fallows

  Ash fought not to look away; not wanting to see his friend pulverised. So, it was with some astonishment that he watched Simon move fluidly in and around his opponent, darting in and out for quick series of punches and a few kicks before moving back out again. He displayed skill Ash wouldn’t have thought him capable of. The doc he knew rarely fought hand to hand like this; sure, he came with the boarding party sometimes, but this was different – this was savage. Unfortunately, his opponent was not a man to be trifled with and the blows that he did land sent Simon reeling on more than one occasion, but Simon was slowly gaining an edge. This was until the brute landed a solid punch on his upper-left arm that had been destined for Simon’s head, but what appeared to be a lucky escape was, in actual fact, a terrible blow. Simon dropped to his knees clutching at his arm, his face white. Ash surged forward without thinking but was stopped by the unrelenting barrel of a gun in his chest; he half turned back towards the platform to see Red smirking in delight.

  Simon was on the floor in agony; in the half second Ash’s focus had been on Red, Simon had gone from his knees to his back and was taking a severe kicking. Ash looked frantically about for a way to help him, but there was none, only cheering crowds. Simon looked finished as his opponent leaned low over him to gloat. But with a speed of movement that should now have been beyond him, he raised his knees to his chest and thrust his feet, heels first, with all his might into his opponent’s chest, sending him flying backward with undoubtedly broken ribs. Indeed, from the way the man was gasping and coughing up blood, he’d punctured his lung.

  Simon staggered to his feet a moment later and just stood in the centre of the ring, waiting. The entire crowd were looking between him and his opponent, who still lay gasping on the floor.

  ‘If he cannot gain his feet, then by the rules I have won,’ Simon stated clearly, staring directly at Red.

  ‘What do you say?’ Red called out to the crowd. ‘A win or a draw? Should we have a rematch for our testy newcomer?’

  A chant of rematch followed Red’s question, the crowd wanted blood and were determined to get it.

  ‘One fight! That was the bargain,’ Ash shouted at him.

  ‘Terms have changed.’

  ‘You can’t do that,’ Ash growled lunging for him, only to be stopped by a gun butt to the back of his head.

  ‘I can do anything I like,’ Red declared contemptuously, smirking down at Ash as he lay on the floor.

  ‘Can you?’ A new man stepped forward into the crowd. ‘Really, Bart, you surprise me,’ he continued calmly, addressing Red by his Christian name.

  This new man had a sophisticated elegance about him that was at war with his surroundings, he was dressed plainly enough, but in his bearing there was something else. ‘I leave you in control for five minutes and Carlos is dying on the floor of the arena, a newcomer is bloodied and beaten, and you are declaring yourself king.’

  ‘No Max, it’s not…’ Bart started to back pedal.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘No, of course I wouldn’t…’

  ‘Go back on your word? Good. Because these men are free and the crowd was promised another fight. Looks like you are the next player.’

  Bart stared at Max in stunned horror tinged with disbelief, ‘No, Max, I…’

  ‘No? Did you just tell me no?’ Max demanded with an icy calm as he advanced on Bart, who seemed to shrivel in his presence.

  ‘I’m sorry, Max, of course I’ll fight,’ Bart said, shakily removing his jacket before walking towards the ring and, under the watchful eyes of the crowd, he regained some of his bravado.

  With a curt nod from Max, the team around him sprang into action to reorganise the fights and find an opponent for Bart. Ash and Simon didn’t get a chance to see the outcome of that particular fight, as they were whisked away into one of the buildings surrounding the square, which seemed to operate as a makeshift medical bay at night.

  Wrapping Simon’s right arm over his shoulders Ash half dragged the poor doctor into the building. The harsh light emitted from the large, portable lamp that lit the room glinted off the row of medical tools, which had been hastily unrolled from their carry cloth onto a rudimentary table that lined the back wall, making the place look more like a work shed then a medical facility. Ash gently lowered Simon onto the cot in the centre of the room, trying not to look too closely at the blood-stained floor.

  ‘Isn’t the other guy coming in too?’ Simon asked shakily as a woman closed the door behind her on entering the room after them, shutting out at least some of the crowd’s cheers and bloodthirsty calls.

  ‘Carlos is a lost cause, my friend,’ she replied calmly, selecting a bottle of ethanol from the table and pouring some on a cloth ready to clean Simon’s wounds.

  ‘A punctured lung isn’t fatal,’ Simon persisted as she lifted his chin to take a look at his battered face.

  ‘In this case it is.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘He can’t fight for at least four weeks and would lose any fight up until at least six, it is better to let him die now than drag the agony out and waste what limited supplies we have,’ the doctor interrupted.

  ‘Waste, huh?’ Ash repeated, ‘I’m curious to know what the charge will be for us then.’

  ‘Nothing,’ Max it seemed had chosen to join them instead of watching Bart getting beaten to death in the ring.

  ‘Nothing costs nothing,’ Ash retorted, but Max’s attention was already on Simon who was being cleaned up briskly by the doctor.

  ‘Cronin,’ Max greeted him.

  ‘Fischer,’ Simon returned the greeting through a grimace as the doctor probed the wound in his arm.

  ‘You two know each other?’

  ‘From school.’

  ‘So, he’s another…’

  ‘Displaced, yeah.’

  ‘Displaced?’ Max cut in.

  ‘You’re not going to believe it, Fischer, but they’ve been playing us,’ Simon responded vaguely; throwing a significant look at the doctor.

  ‘You’ll have to tell me about it once you’ve been cleaned up,’ Max said as he caught the warning and left them to it with the promise of a full explanation later.

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  ‘So… we’re creeping in the back way then?’ Blue commented.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I hate to pick holes in your beautiful plan, but aren’t we supposed to be being conspicuous?’ Blue persisted over the comm. as they sailed into Eckarna on their usual route, threading carefully around the back waters to avoid prying eyes.

  ‘Conspicuous, yes; blatant, no,’ Duncan replied. ‘We want Carrington to think that Ben is staking everything on broadcasting from the Ministries, so we’ve got to convince them that’s what’s happening. If we cruise up to the front door, then someone is going to put two and two together and come up with four.’

  ‘So we play it as normal and wait for them to find us,’ Sophie joined in.

  ‘How can you be sure they’ll find us?’ Melanie asked.

  ‘By now they’ll have worked out what we’re up to and know that we’ll have to come here, so they’ll be hunting high and low for us; don’t you worry, they’ll find us all right.’

  ‘How do they know Daniels wants to broadcast the disks, and not blackmail them or something?’ Melanie asked.

  ‘Because we knew Carrington back before he was the chancellor – he knows Ben won’t stand for what’s been going on.’

  ‘You knew him!’

  ‘Who do you think ordered our executions? He was the Minister of Security back then, though.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Dunc! So you mean it’ll actually be him waiting for us then?’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Then how are you going to convince him you’re Ben?’

  ‘Easily enough, I doubt Carrington will remember either of our fac
es that well. It was ten years ago, Soph, and he’s probably never even given us a second thought in all that time.’

  ‘Wonderful,’ the pilot muttered, turning back to her controls. This plan is getting worse by the second, she thought to herself as she guided the Coelacanth in.

  ‘And, so, onto the next ludicrous stage of the plan,’ Sophie huffed as they prepared to disembark from the Coelacanth, keeping a prayer in her mind that she would still be there when they got back.

  ‘I’ll have to remember to tell Ben how much his plans are preferred to mine,’ Duncan said as he walked up to the three of them.

  ‘Well, you certainly pull off that coat well, Dunc,’ Sophie said, staring at the strange resemblance Dunc had to his captain. It was odd; while they were both of similar height and build, with dark hair, before today Sophie wouldn’t have said they really resembled each other at all, but with Duncan standing before her in Ben’s coat and projecting his mannerisms, she could see how easily someone could be fooled.

  ‘Glad you approve of something at least,’ Dunc grinned his version of Ben’s roguish smile before turning to the group as a whole.

  ‘Blue, have you got everything ready here?’

  ‘Ready to go and waiting on your signal, Dunc,’ Blue confirmed.

  ‘Thanks Blue, you good to hold the fort here by yourself?’

  ‘Just let them try and take my lady from me,’ Blue said, patting the side of the Coelacanth's hull.

  ‘That’s the spirit, Blue.’ Duncan clapped him on the back.

  ‘Well, ladies, you ready to make your grand debut?’

  ‘As ready as we’ll ever be,’ Sophie answered for the both of them.

  ‘Onwards then, it’d be terribly bad manners to keep Carrington waiting,’ Duncan declared, leading the way out through the hatch into the docking bay.

  ‘Do try not to get yourselves killed,’ Blue called after them and received a jaunty salute from Duncan for his troubles.

  ‘Looks like it’s just me and you again,’ Duncan whispered to Melanie after Sophie split from them to carry out her part of the plan.

  ‘And this has even less chance of success than the last time,’ Melanie retorted, peering around the corner.

  ‘Then why are you here?’

  ‘You know very well why.’

  ‘I knew you couldn’t resist me,’ Duncan grinned.

  ‘Will you just pay attention to keeping us alive and getting us out of here,’ Melanie said as she whacked him on the arm.

  ‘This way, milady,’ Duncan replied before sauntering down the corridor; Melanie had been watching carefully for signs of movement.

  ‘Hmph, it’s a damn good job we caused a blackout in the security system,’ she huffed, following him as he strode down the middle of the corridor like he belonged there.

  ‘Well, how else are we supposed to move around undetected, I’d like to know? Besides, it’d be a shame to waste your talents, although this must be child’s play to you.’

  ‘Child’s play,’ Melanie snorted. ‘You do realise we’re in the most heavily guarded area of the entire Republic. I’ll have you know it took serious skill to break into their systems and scramble the cameras.’

  ‘I stand in awe of your skills, although, come to think of it, as you couldn’t get all of this to work remotely I’m not so sure. Surely it couldn’t have been that difficult.’ Duncan couldn’t resist goading her a little, especially when she had announced she'd be able to do it, and then had to reconsider when she and Sophie tried earlier. Scrambling the cameras, it turned out, was the best they could manage.

  ‘Come on, this way,’ Melanie just rolled her eyes and pulled him along to the next corridor.

  ‘All right…’

  ‘Back, back, get back!’ Melanie suddenly hissed at him, cutting him off mid-sentence, and pushing him backward around the corner and through the first door they came to.

  ‘Well, that was lucky,’ Duncan commented as Melanie listened at the door.

  ‘It’s a good job they were chatting loudly, or they’d have seen us at the same time we saw them,’ Melanie agreed.

  ‘No, I was referring to the fact that this room is empty.’

  ‘These offices are never in use past six o’clock,’ Melanie snapped back. ‘Shall we?’

  ‘Let’s just get this over with,’ Duncan agreed, having lost his humour at this point.

  After a few more minor setbacks, they arrived at the broadcast centre, having avoided numerous security guards and troopers who seemed to have been brought in for the occasion.

  ‘Doesn’t this seem all a little too easy to you?’ Melanie asked as she pulled up a chair to the nearest console while Duncan locked them in, checking the room for any unwanted guests and dimming the lights.

  ‘Don’t knock it; just get it over and done with.’ Privately, Duncan agreed with her, but as he was convinced they were being watched now he kept his own council. After all, if he were Carrington he'd let them get in and produce the disks before descending on them, and the man was no fool, as he and Ben had found out the hard way. A mask of a genial fellow covered his real ruthlessness.

  ‘All right, all right.’ Duncan’s anxiety was putting her on edge. It hadn’t felt like this when they were in Abantos, but then Duncan was following someone else’s plan and not his own; the added responsibility was not improving his mood it would seem, and only flashes of his true good humour had appeared since they had entered the Ministries, mingling with the workers, earlier that evening.

  ‘You in yet?’

  ‘Give me a minute,’ Melanie muttered, frantically typing away.

  ‘We’ve got less than an hour,’ Duncan told her looking at his watch.

  ‘Right, we’re connected. You have the disks?’

  ‘Excellent. Here they are; take good care of them,’ Duncan said, turning to hand them to her.

  ‘Yes, please do take good care of them.’

  Duncan froze as he heard Carrington’s voice behind him. He had to give the man credit; even though he was expecting him, he still didn’t see him appear before he spoke.

  ‘I would’ve thought you’d want them destroyed,’ Duncan said as he turned around slowly to face the man and assess the situation, while keeping his own face in the shadows as much as possible.

  The two guards with automatic rifles whom Carrington had brought with him quashed any hopes of an easy escape; one of whom was forcibly removing Melanie from the console and pushing her to stand next to Duncan.

  ‘Really? And lose that magnificent opening for the anniversary episode?’ Carrington taunted.

  ‘I would’ve thought you’d have found it a bit lacklustre myself: not enough screaming agony.’

  ‘Ah, yes, but the viewing public aren’t so keen and, you see, I mustn’t impose my view on them. They have soft stomachs even for actors being tortured too much. But, still, the idea works well.’

  ‘Yet you can’t take credit for all this, Carrington – a hundred years, remember?’

  ‘Alas no, this has been in place for generations. Chancellor Illingworth was the one who thought it up, I believe; and his great-grandchildren are still growing fat in the sun off the profits. Of course, each new chancellor has their input, their own style I should say, which runs through their series of the show. Mine, I have to admit is making it gritty and darker than the previous series; Chancellor Musgrave really didn’t have the stomach for it.’

  ‘Yes, I heard some of the older episodes were cute and quaint rather than bloodthirsty,’ Duncan commented.

  ‘That’s your problem, Daniels, you have too many morals, always did. That damn sense of fair play was always going to get you killed… just ten years later than originally planned.’

  ‘You and Greyson messed up on that one, I’m afraid.’

  Carrington shrugged, ‘I think Greyson feels i
t was worth it; after all, Selena was such a beauty, and still is. Have you seen her at all lately? She looks truly awe inspiring in the sunshine: the way it catches her golden hair is exquisite,’ he taunted.

  ‘And you, of course, did well for yourself; it seems murder does pay,’ Duncan ignored the barbs and launched one of his own.

  ‘Being chancellor definitely has its perks.’

  ‘How many did you murder? Must be hundreds by now, if you take into account all those poor souls you’ve condemned to death in the name of entertainment for Within the Water, and, of course, not forgetting the fifty passengers and crew on the Sky. Oh, come now, don’t look so shocked Carrington; two and two make four, after all, and it was easy to see what you’d done. They wanted backstage tours of the sets, did they? To meet some of the actors? Well, you couldn’t let them all find out that the horrors they’d been watching and voting on were actually real, could you? And murder comes so easily to you.’

  ‘Your record isn’t exactly spotless either, Daniels,’ Carrington sneered.

  ‘I never claimed it was, but you far out shine me in that department.’

  ‘Perhaps, but you have the distinction of bringing your friends to the slaughter as well, which surely must count for something. Now your lovely little pilot is going to pay the price for your morals, just like your lieutenant did.’

  ‘Leave her out of this.’

  ‘I think not. So, now onto practical matters – the disks if you please, my dear,’ Carrington held out his hand to Melanie.

  Melanie shrugged and tossed the disks to him, ‘Sure, they’re pretty worthless anyway.’

  ‘I wasn’t born yesterday, girl,’ he sneered catching the disks.

  ‘Try them then, all the encryptions been stripped so you can just plug them in and hit play.’