Back In Blue

by G R Matthews

  "No," Abrahams said with a sigh.

  "Bluster it out," I said. "Open the door."

  Abrahams pressed his key card against the door's keypad and there was an audible click as the door opened and swung inward on silent hinges.

  "Norah," I whispered, "do the talking."

  She gave me a worried glance, looked at Abrahams name plate, and followed the larger man into the room. I was last through the door, my baton held in my hand in what I hoped was a casual manner.

  The guards reached for their own sidearms and took a step towards us when they stiffened and snapped off some parade ground salutes to Abrahams. He made a lazy gesture back and the two guards relaxed their stance.

  "What can I do for Military Intelligence, Captain?" The lab tech said to Abrahams as he stepped up beside the table and glanced down at my dissected Fish-Suit.

  "The Captain wishes to be appraised of your progress." Norah spoke in her imitation of the VKYN accent and when no one batted an eyelash I started to feel better.

  I moved around to stand closer to the guards, favouring them with a nod, one sailor to another. They both glanced at my bruises and winced. I replied with a shrug. Who needs language when you can say all you need with a look, gesture, a fist, or a foot? I suppose it was quite normal for security guards to sport a bruise or two.

  Breaking up bar fights and getting in-between quarrelling soldiers and sailors was bound to be bad for your health. These were people trained to fight and hurt someone. You'd have to be better, nastier and willing to go further than them if you wanted to survive your first few weeks as a guard. I looked, hopefully, despite my age, like a new guard who'd stepped in a little too early during one of those confrontations, before the combatants had had the chance to wear themselves out a little.

  "As you can see," the lab tech said, his hands fluttering across my suit's chest piece, "we've only just connected the onboard computer to our own systems."

  Abrahams looked up and I saw him arch an eyebrow which elicited an embarrassed flush across the lab tech's cheeks.

  "Yes, well," the nervous tech continued. "I expect, with the assistance of our operative, to have extricated the needed code within the hour."

  "Why so long?" Norah said, after Abrahams gave her a slow look.

  "The operative was forced to bury the information in the historical files of this suit. It was fragmented across as many as he could find, so he tells me, to avoid detection or to cause any malfunctions as happened the first time."

  Norah blanched. Abrahams grunted and leaned closer to the wires and suit. I moved around the guards and monitors to reach the back of the table and get a look at the screen which the lab tech had been talking to.

  It was flat to the desk and I had to loom over it to see the face. The lab tech turned to me, his mouth opening to say something, probably an admonishment to get back, and the two guards shifted their stance. Abrahams glanced up from his inspection and Norah's face, still white, raised her gaze from the floor.

  "Fuck," I exclaimed and pico-second later the screen went black. I'd recognised the face of the operative, the traitor, and a spark of anger caught light in my stomach.

  "Get away from..." the lab tech said, faltered at my exclamation and shouted, "Who are you?"

  My accent, even on that one word had given me away and everyone moved at once.

  Abrahams turned and stepped towards the guards, his fists coming up. The guards reacted, one stepping towards me, his hand groping for the holstered sidearm on his belt, and the other backed away from the approaching fake military intelligence officer. Norah lunged across the table to reach for the lab tech who screamed, "Emergency Alert."

  I jumped left to clear the desk and started forward, my stun baton ready to swing, and the alarms blared and red lights started to swirl about the room.

  My guard's gun cleared the holster and I brought the baton down across his arm hearing the crack of bone and a pained grunt force its way out of his mouth. He didn't stop moving though and his other arm whipped around in a wild haymaker of a punch. I saw it late and could only duck my head, hoping his aim was off.

  It wasn't and stars flared to life in my vision. The world tilted and jerked as if I'd drunk fifteen beers and whiskeys in that one second of contact. Stumbling to the side, I lifted the baton in front of me, poking it out in the direction I had the vague recollection the guard was in.

  I felt it press against something and there was a crackle of power, the baton juddering in my hands. A sudden release of pressure had me stumbling once more and I fell to my knees, weapon sliding from my hands and rolling out of my double vision. Letting my body continue its motion, I rolled onto my side and tried hard, through the fog in my mind, to keep the roll going.

  I heard the sharp retort of a gun and the distant sound of projective hitting flesh. There was little I could do except take a deep breath and try to clear my vision. A rattle of metal and a crack of bone sounded closer to me and I raised my head trying to see, but the world was a blur. Move, I told myself, hoping that some part of me would actually listen.

  Struggling to my feet, left hand grabbing at screens and shelves to pull me up, I tried to get a look around. Ahead two figures wrestled on the floor, though without the ability to focus I could not tell which one Abrahams was and which the guard. At my feet, the guard who had attacked me convulsed on the floor, blue sparks jumping from his uniform. I gave him a wide berth.

  Norah had dragged the skinny lab tech across the table and was repeatedly bashing his head into its surface.

  My foot struck a heavy object and it skittered across the floor. Recognising the vague outline, I lunged across the floor, stretching to my full reach my half-nub fingers caught the grip of a sidearm and pulled into my fist. The weight felt good, reassuring and I lifted it towards the two struggling figures.

  "Stop or I'll shoot," though which one I couldn't be sure.

  To my right, Norah stopped her 'how many times do I have to hit this man's head against a table to make sure he is unconscious for a year' experiment. On the floor, the two figures stilled and separated. My gun tracked one and then the other.

  "Not me, you idiot," the blurred figure on the left grunted, raising an arm to point to the other one who had taken off at a fast stagger towards the distant door.

  I adjusted my aim and pulled the trigger twice, and once more for good luck.

  CHAPTER FORTY

  "Fucking hell. Can you even see straight?" Abrahams shouted as the other figure fell to the floor.

  "Not very well," I called back and saw the fuzzy figure of Abrahams stagger and fall to his knees.

  The klaxons and alarms rang loud in the room as I hurried over to him. Norah appeared at my side as my eyesight came back into focus. Flicking the safety on the sidearm, I tucked it into my belt and crouched down beside Abrahams.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Bastard shot me before I reached him," the other man said and I noted the pale pallor of his face, the slight sheen of sweat and the dilated pupils. One hand rested against the floor while his other hand was wrapped around his stomach.

  "Let me see," I said, pulling his arm away. He groaned and sank back on his arse, his supporting arm trembling and giving way. "Lay him down, Norah."

  The young Ensign edged around Abrahams putting a supportive arm around his shoulders and together we laid him on the floor. A large red stain was spreading out from the lower left side of his belly. Unzipping his stolen uniform jacket and pulling up the shirt underneath, I got a look at the neat hole from which blood pulsed.

  "Roll him over a little," I said to Norah. "Abrahams, hold on."

  Together we lifted his left side and I peeked underneath, looking for a matching hole and stain but there wasn't one.

  "The bullet's still in you," I told him.

  "Shit," he whispered from between clenched teeth.

  "Get those boxes," I pointed to a loose collection of plastic tubs on the other side of the room and Norah raced acro
ss to them. "Stay with us."

  "I ain't going anywhere," Abrahams answered with a forced grin. The sad truth of it was he was probably right.

  Retrieving the other guard's gun, I dragged the body away from the doorway and let it close. I stripped my own jacket off as I returned to Abrahams and wedged it below his head. A small comfort for an injured man. The box I placed under his feet, elevating them and hoping my hazy memory of first aid would do some good.

  "I found this," Norah said, putting the small tin of a first aid kit on the floor. She cracked it open and found a filled syringe and some bandages. Below those was a compression pad. I snatched it out, pressing it against the wound.

  "Wrap the bandages around him," I instructed her. "Tight as you can without him screaming."

  "I'm not going to scream," Abrahams muttered, but his eyes were losing focus.

  "You will if I start singing," I told him, while Norah nodded and began the process. It was tough to pass it underneath the injured sailor and I had to help with my one free hand. "You remember that party at the end of the last war."

  "You almost started a fight with that song," he said, half a grin forming on his face followed by a gasp of pain. "Don't make me laugh."

  Norah tied the bandage off and took the syringe from the kit. "It's a painkiller."

  "Give it to him," I said, looking down at my fading friend.

  "It'll knock him out," she said. "We won't be able to move him."

  "We can't anyway," I answered, looking her in the eye. "He knows that. His best bet is to stay here and hope the VKYN folks look after him."

  "They'll kill him," she answered, the syringe shaking in her hand.

  "They might, but likely won't," I said. "He's no threat to them and they'll wait for someone senior to make a decision. It is his best chance."

  "I don't want to leave him," she said, indecision plain in her darting eyes.

  "Neither do I, but I can't see any other choice," I said, reaching for the syringe. "And we're running out of time. Security will be here in a minute and we need to be gone."

  "I'll do it," she said, pulling her arm away and, selecting a spot on the inside of Abrahams arm where there should be a blood vessel, she stabbed the needle in.

  "Let's go," I said, patting Abrahams on the shoulder as the man slipped from consciousness and his breathing slowed. "Take this."

  She took the other gun from me, checked the safety and the ammunition readout on the side. Stepping over to my chest piece I pressed the release catches and drew the slim computer from its housing and slipped it into the deep pockets on my trousers. My hands were red with blood and I wiped them down my uniform trousers.

  At the door, I took one last look at the recumbent Abrahams and stepped out into the corridor. Though he would not see it, I nodded towards him and turned away. They’d look after him, when they found him. If nothing else, he was dressed in their uniform and before they figured out he wasn’t one of them they might be half way through the surgery. Always hope.

  All along the hallway red lights flashed and alarms wailed. VKYN personnel were heading in all directions and we joined the flow, sidearms drawn but held at our side. There was shouting all around and we ducked aside from a column of guards who raced down the hallway in our direction. They went past without a second look.

  "Turn here," Norah whispered and I let her take the lead.

  We emerged back on the main corridor with the access to the docks just a few metres to our left. The personnel door was open, but the large access door through which equipment on trolleys would pass was closed and guarded. Troops, sailors and soldiers, diving through in a constant stream of uniformed figures. Two guards stood at the door, scrutinising everyone who passed through.

  "Trapped," Norah said.

  "No," I snapped back and took a moment to daub a little of Abrahams blood across my face.

  "What are you doing?" Her revulsion was clear and understandable. I told her and she looked at me like I was an idiot. I was, but it was the best I could come up with. Not a good sign. Still, she nodded.

  As we rushed up to the guards, I saw them look at us in a confusion, but they did take a renewed hold of their rifles.

  "Quick," Norah shouted as she came to stop just in front of them. "Prisoners escaped. They've got guns. Been shooting everyone. Our Captain, Hollinson," the name which Abrahams had worn, "ordered us to take over this post and for you to come and assist. Our weapons are almost gone."

  "I didn't hear shooting?" the first guard said.

  "They're in the lab area," she said, as if that was all the explanation they needed. She pointed at my face. "Look at him. They've been shooting everyone. There's blood everywhere." Her voice rose in pitch and she shuddered.

  "I'll go look," the first guard said to his colleague. "You stay here."

  "Yes, Corporal," the second guard said.

  "Captain won't be happy," Norah said with a shake of her head.

  "Nor will mine if we abandon our post," the first guard answered and brushed past Norah, his gun leading the way.

  "How bad is it?" the remaining guard asked as his superior vanished around the same corner we'd entered by.

  Norah looked at me and I looked at her. We hadn't hastily planned for one of them staying. I hit him.

  It was a good strike. The pommel of the sidearm catching him on the jaw and he fell to the floor like his strings had been sliced with the sharpest of blades. Neither of us moved to catch him and after a stunned second Norah followed me through the personnel door and into the docks proper.

  "Over there," I pointed with my gun hand earning several looks from the sailors who milled about. I'd tried my best at their accent but it sounded like a very bad stereotype of an accent from much further east.

  Norah nodded and we ran through the crowds, earning curses in response though no one who noticed the drawn weapons stepped in our way. The large, pressurised bays for the big subs were a good distance away to our right. They weren't our target. There was no way for Norah and me to steal one of those, but in the moonpools were a small selection of submarines.

  Sailors and dockers flocked around the subs in the pools. There were no guards, but the dockers were a tough looking bunch who eyed our approach with suspicion. I whispered to Norah and scanned the subs, choosing one which looked like it might be useful to us. Those still being unloaded and worked on I didn't want. They might not be fuelled or provisioned. A submarine with no one bothering it had already been serviced and readied for debarkation. In the navy, any navy, you prepared for the worst and had a sub ready to go out again almost before it had fully docked.

  "That one," I said.

  We altered our path, skirting one pool and heading to another.

  "What are you doing?" came the call from one sailor.

  "Security," Norah called back. "Don't let anyone on those subs."

  It was always good to give someone a reason and a task to do. There's something about humankind that responds well to orders and direction, which just goes to prove I'm barely human at the best of times. The sailor turned away and began to call orders to his colleagues.

  Norah skipped over the boarding plank and onto the sub, kneeling down to spin the hatch open. A moment later she was pulling the thick metal out of the way and dropping into the vessel. I took a last look around and jumped from the dock onto the sub.

  "Hey," came a loud shout and I turned to see a commotion erupt by the first moonpool. Our compliant sailor was arguing with the not-so gullible guard from the door way. It was a short argument which ended when the guard hit the sailor in the face with the butt of his rifle.

  "You there," he shouted as he raised his rifle to his shoulder and sighted down it. "Stop where you are."

  I gave him a quick wave and dropped into the sub, catching myself on the ladder as the slugs from his rifle spattered off the hull.

  "Get us moving, Norah," I shouted as I risked a hand out of the sub, yanked the hatch down and spun the locking whe
el. More metallic clangs sounded as bullets struck the sub.

  All going to plan as usual.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  I heard the engine rise in pitch and the sub began to move.

  The corridor on this sub was narrow, barely wide enough for my shoulders, it didn't make sense to waste space and luckily it was only a few steps to the bridge. Though that was something of a misnomer. Three bucket seats, screens, levers and buttons in a cramped area with little headroom even for one not as vertically blessed as me.

  Slipping into the seat next to Norah, I could see the camera feeds of the docks outside. More guards had arrived and were taking aim at the sub. Their small calibre weapons would have to hit a really sensitive part to do any damage. No sub was ever sent out into the depths with an open exhaust port down which a stray bullet, fish or squid could enter and blow the vessel up. It just wasn't sensible.

  "Take her down," I said to Norah. "Before they bring in the heavy guns or close the moonpool."

  She nodded and swept her fingers over the board in front of her. With a lurch the sub began to sink. Water bubbled up over the cameras and I lost sight of our assailants. The cameras which pointed down showed the doors below us were beginning to move, closing off our escape route.

  "Faster," I said, searching for something that resembled weapons. There was nothing and I had to settle for the controls of the robotic arms. This sub appeared to come equipped with two arms, both set on tracks which meant the arms could traverse the full extent of the submarine and work in tandem if needed.

  "It is not a racing sub," Norah snapped back.

  "Right," I said back, glancing over at the young woman who was concentrating so hard her tongue was poking out between her lips.

  I centred both arms, bringing them to midships and twisted them down. Controlling both at the same time was difficult, focusing on two different screens and having to twist my head to look from one to the other. It was a poor setup, but there wasn’t time to change it.

  As we dropped toward the closing doors, I put one robotic pincer against the edge of it and increased the power, stiffening the joints and bracing it against the sub. We jerked to the left as the arm fought to keep the door open.