Back In Blue

by G R Matthews

  Disconnecting the computer, the fans fell silent once more but the lights stayed on, and I took the few steps into the sleeping area and slid down the wall next to the comatose Norah. We were about to be rescued and that would normally be a good thing to happen. If it was NOAH, I'd be happy. VKYN and the cheer would fall somewhat flat.

  There was nothing left to do but wait and see.

  "My gravestone will read, 'He tried. Sometimes. Mostly failed.'," I whispered to Norah.

  She did not respond.

  "Look on the bright side, we'll get to spend the war in a prisoner of war camp somewhere," I said, forcing a happy tone. "A few years later they might even send us home."

  The sound of the airlock being cycled rang through the submarine. It always reminded me of someone eating spaghetti. A lot of slurping, sucking and coughing as the air was draw out. I waited for the inevitable splash of sea water entering the airlock, but it did not come.

  Whomever was out there was either going to make the sub implode by opening both doors, or they'd connected an emergency airlock. I hoped and my kept fingers crossed for the latter.

  The inner door hissed open. A good sign. The pressure equalising. There came the tramp of boots and the white glare of a flashlight.

  "Don't move or I'll blow your fucking head off," came the muffled but determined shout.

  I had to close my eyes from the bright light. I had no intention of moving if I didn't have to. Conservation of energy or some such theory, I'm sure, but I just wanted to keep my head attached to my neck for a few minutes more.

  "Did you want me to raise my hands?" I queried in a quiet voice.

  "Don't talk or I'll blow your fucking head off," the shout came again.

  Clear instruction and the outcome defined should I break the rules. Fine with me. I stayed still and shut up. A first for me.

  The light moved from me and onto Norah, tracing her shape in the bed from her pink hair down to the small feet poking out of the blanket I'd covered her with.

  "Who is she?" the muffled voice said, the light swinging back on to me.

  I caught the shrug a moment before it happened and bit down on the inside of my mouth. No moving. No speaking. Head staying where it was.

  "Tell me who she is or I'll fucking blow your head off," the muffled voice screamed, jabbing the flashlight, no doubt attached to a weapon, at me.

  "That'll do, Private," a calmer voice interrupted.

  "Yes, sir," the Private snapped back.

  "Very good, son," the owner of the second voice said. "Now, if you wouldn't mind stepping out of the way. I'm sure there are other things you could be doing."

  "But they could be dangerous," the Private objected.

  "I'm sure they are, Private, but I think I can take care of myself," the voice said.

  "If you say so, sir."

  "I do say so."

  The flashlight swung around, the muzzle of whatever weapon the Private carried scraping against the wall. It took a moment of jostling for the soldier to get out of the other person's way. The perfect moment to strike. Attack when they were off balance and confused, but where was I going to go. I couldn't take over a sub large enough to have an emergency airlock and an umbilical. What would I do with Norah? I stayed where I was.

  "Now then," the officer said as he stepped into the room, "let's get a good look at you."

  I realised the obvious when the light swept over my face and then Norah's. No accent to the voice. Nothing that spoke of VKYN.

  "Is she badly hurt?" the officer whose face remained hidden behind the torch said.

  I didn't move or say a word.

  "I'm not going to blow your, how eloquently did he put it, fucking head off," the officer said. "I am just concerned is all."

  "She took a bad hit to her head," I said, my voice scratchy and throat dry. "I cleaned the wound. The first aid kit is keeping her unconscious and medicated."

  "The screen says she needs medical attention," he said.

  "Yeah," I agreed. "It's been saying that for a while."

  "Well, we'd best get that sorted out as soon as we can," he said. "Now, who are you?"

  "Lieutenant, Junior Grade, Hayes," I said. "Did you want my service number too?"

  "In a moment," he said. "Unit?"

  I gave him my units designation and waited.

  "You're a long way from home," he said.

  "Very true," I answered. No point denying it. "Who, if I may be so bold are you? And don't think we are not grateful for the rescue."

  "Lieutenant Davenport," he said.

  "That's not a particularly VKYN name," I hedged.

  "I should hope not," he said with an honest chuckle. "Family originally came from a small village outside Oxford. At least, so the family myths say. These days I'm not sure it matters or even if it’s true. Still, they like to keep up the pretence. You've no idea how many years elocution lessons it took to perfect this cut glass accent."

  "It is quite," I fumbled for the right words, "sharp?"

  "So I've been told. Who is the young lady?"

  "Ensign Copeland, same unit," I said. "I can't recall her service number."

  There was beep at his belt and I caught the shadow of a hand moving to pluck something up. A glow hit his face from the Pad and I saw a young man with measured eyes and strong chin.

  "Identity is confirmed," he said and I heard the tell-tale click of a safety going back on. The torch dropped from my face and pointed at the floor reflecting enough of its light for me to see his uniform, and the pistol attached to the torch. "You really are a long way from home and I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell me the story of how you got here, why you're in a VKYN submarine, wearing a VKYN uniform, or how you stumbled into the middle of this conflict. It will all be well above my pay grade and it'll save me a lot of form filling."

  "Sounds good to me," I said, taking a liking to this officer.

  "I'm sure military intelligence can do all the digging, debriefing and interrogating they want later on," he continued.

  "Ah," I grunted. "Yeah."

  "First things first, let's see to young Ensign Copeland," he said, turning to the door and yelling, "Medic!"

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  "Sit down, Hayes," Commander Anderson said as I walked into his office.

  "I'd like a chance to get cleaned up," I answered, gesturing at my VKYN security uniform. "You're not catching me at my best."

  "Your best was a long time ago," Lieutenant Columbo said and I turned to see him sat in the shadow of a lamp in the far corner of the room, "and even then, it wasn't much to brag about."

  "With due respect, Lieutenant, you can go and shove..."

  "Hayes," Anderson's bark cut me off.

  "Commander, you've had me isolated on the sub. I've spoken to no one. Not had the chance to wash and get changed. They threw some food at me, gave me a bottle of water, and a thin blanket, but no pillow. Plus the toilet smelled of chlorine and shit for the whole journey."

  "First class accommodation," Columbo muttered in a low voice, "for a traitor."

  "Columbo," Anderson barked once more. "Both of you keep your thoughts to yourself."

  I watched the Commander glower at Columbo for a moment before his stare switched to me. It was an impressive glare, one he'd probably practiced in front of the mirror when he'd been promoted, and I allowed him a wave of compliance as I sat down in the little bucket armchair. "Can I get a coffee, at least?"

  Anderson nodded and pressed the intercom on his desk. "Three coffees."

  "Yes, sir," I heard the reply from the small speaker.

  "Columbo, move your chair up here. I am not spending this whole meeting shouting or repeating myself because you sat too far away," Anderson said and there was the scraping of the chair across the carpeted floor.

  We waited in silence as the Petty Officer brought in a tray of cups and passed one to each of us.

  "Anything else, sir?"

  "No. Thank you," Anderson said. "See we
are not disturbed."

  "Of course, sir," the Petty Officer said and closed the door behind him.

  "Right, Hayes, what happened?" Anderson asked. "And you'd better know I'm recording this conversation as part of your official debrief."

  "They knew we were coming," I said, taking a sip of the coffee and letting out a contented sigh.

  "Explain."

  "Both teams came through the sensor net without issue," I began.

  "How do you know?" Columbo interjected.

  "Nothing showed up on the suit computers and the best place to catch us is out there. Once we're close to the city, we're much harder to find. If you hadn't noticed, the ocean's a dark place and close to the cities it gets quite noisy." When he didn't respond, I continued, "Anyway, as soon as we started to lay the last of the explosives, they turned up."

  "What happened?" Anderson asked.

  "How's Norah?" I countered.

  He looked down at his desk. "Being treated in the hospital. Cut on her forehead. Depressed fracture, but not serious. Probable concussion. She'll be fine in a few days. Now what happened?"

  "Roth was killed straight away. I know I got one of them as we split up to run," I said.

  "You didn't fight?" Columbo said, his voice incredulous.

  "No," I said. "Standard Operating Procedure, Lieutenant. We were outnumbered, in enemy territory. Escape and hide is what Fish-Suits are good at."

  "But you all got caught," he said, leaning forward in his seat.

  "Yeah," I admitted. "I got thrown in a cell and questioned. I was my normal charming self as the bruises and cuts can attest to."

  "What did you tell them?" Columbo asked. I glanced at Anderson and he seemed happy to let the Lieutenant have his head.

  "My name and rank," I said. "I didn't need to tell them much. They brought in a bag full of our explosives and set them on the desk in front of me."

  "How do you know they were yours?" Columbo raised an eyebrow.

  "The better question is how did they know where to find them?" I suggested. "Those things are small, hard to find, and shielded. It would take a visual inspection of the hull and that would take forever."

  "That's simple," Columbo said. "You told them. Gave them the co-ordinates and they went and got them all."

  "There's one thing wrong with that," I answered, bunching my fists. "I didn't tell them."

  "So you say," the Lieutenant said.

  "If you've got some proof, spill it now or shut up," I growled, my hold on the anger slipping.

  "Proof?" He scoffed. "You're sitting right there while Roth is, according to you dead, Copeland is in the hospital and Abrahams is missing. You got back alive. You're guilty."

  My chair tipped over as I stood and drew back my fist.

  "Hayes," Anderson barked. "Stand down."

  "I..." My lip was trembling with fury, my guts roiled and instinct demanded I throw the punch. Columbo had stood too and wasn't backing down.

  "Both of you, sit down. Columbo, from now on I'll ask the questions. You sit tight and quiet. Hayes, drink your coffee and we'll carry on in a minute. Either of you break these rules and I'll shove you both in the brig to cool off," Anderson snapped. He hadn't moved from his seat, but a wave of authority washed from him, the first I'd felt since we'd met. Maybe he did have it in him after all.

  I drank my coffee without looking at Columbo though I could feel the anger radiating from him. It matched my own.

  "Hayes," Anderson finally broke the sullen silence. "What happened to Abrahams?"

  "After being questioned," I cast a sidelong glance at Columbo, "I was dumped back in my cell and fed. I attempted an escape, but it went wrong."

  Columbo snorted.

  "It went wrong, but Ensign Copeland had already managed to affect her own escape and she took out my guard."

  "Copeland rescued you?" Anderson said, his eyes widening in surprise.

  "Well, yes. Anyway, we changed into these clothes and went to get Abrahams. After that, we headed for the docks and the submarines."

  "Where did you get this?" The Commander held up my suit's computer.

  "We had to take a detour," I said, the image of a face flashing up in my mind. It had been there for a while, but I' hadn't been thinking about it. More concerned with getting back safe and my worries over Norah's condition. "When we did, we were spotted by a few VKYN sailors and scientists. They had my computer hooked up to some systems and looked like they were accessing some hidden files."

  "Files?" Anderson said, raising a placating hand to Columbo.

  "I didn't get a good look at them, I was distracted by the fighting for my life, but they should still be on there," I said. "Get his," I jerked a thumb over my shoulder, "techs to look at it."

  "They did," Columbo said.

  "He's right, they did," Anderson agreed. "We had it fast shipped here when we found out you were alive. The Lieutenant onboard the sub that picked you up reported the strange case of a Fish-Suit pilot without his suit, but in possession of his computer."

  "And what did they find?" I said, sitting forward in my chair and ignoring the implied accusation.

  "It took them an hour or two, but there was a large file broken into fragments stuffed in with all the junk code," he said. "The techs say that there was a good chance that some of it was interfering with your suit's functions."

  "I didn't notice anything," I said.

  "You wouldn't, it was subtle in your suit," Anderson said.

  "But in Norah's?" The hedging and beating around the bush Anderson had been doing now made sense.

  "Norah's was, the techs say, free from a lot of the junk code and so it seeped out into the real code a lot quicker." Anderson nodded as he spoke.

  "Does this mean you have some idea who put it there?"

  "Norah's tech," Columbo said, "or you. When it went wrong you had no choice but to hide the file in your own suit."

  "It's a theory," I answered, "but it’s wrong."

  "Really?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "Care to explain why?" Columbo said. "I'm sorry, Commander, but he is clearly guilty."

  I stared at Columbo for a moment, before turning back to Commander Anderson. "Did you do as I asked?"

  "Asked?" Columbo said, shooting a look at both of us.

  "I put a message on the computer when it was taken from of me," I said. "Commander?"

  Anderson gave me a measuring look, nodded and pressed the intercom. "Send him in, please."

  All eyes turned to the door and I dug my fingernails into the armchair. "I know who did it, Lieutenant, because I happened to see a face and catch the end of a long conversation between our traitor and VKYN. They were giving instructions on how to get around the security and access those files."

  "Who is it?" the Lieutenant asked.

  The door opened and the owner of the face I'd seen walked in. "You wanted to see me, Comm..."

  I listened to his voice tail off as he caught sight of me sitting casually in an armchair. As much as I'd seen his face, he had seen mine, and the sudden realisation that his cover was blown creased his brow and tightened the skin around his eyes.

  "Mr Liddle," I said, "you've no idea how glad I am to see you."

  "Shit," he replied, turned and ran.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  I was up and out of my chair in a heartbeat.

  Barrelling through Anderson's office doors I caught the startled look of the Petty Officer sat behind the desk, the swing of the outer doors, and the shocked look on the two security guards’ faces who were, against all common sense, sat in comfy chairs enjoying their own cups of coffee.

  "Security alert." Columbo's voice was cut off by the closing door so I didn't hear whether he was calling that on my ex-tech Liddle or me. Either way it didn't matter. Liddle had tried to kill Norah, an accident maybe but that wasn't the point, and had provided information to VKYN which got Roth killed.

  There's a joy to actually chasing someone. I didn't experience it ofte
n. I’m usually the one trying to make a quick escape, dodging around people, looking for a place to hide, forging the path. Now, following Liddle, it was so much easier. All the people were already out of the way and I didn't have to worry about where I was going, I was just taking the path he had opened up for me.

  The Naval base wasn't crowded but there were enough startled people to guide me when I lost sight of him around corners. I could understand his need to run, but this was a military base. Where was he going to run to? All the doors would be locked down as soon as the security alert went out and the chance of him grabbing a sub, like I'd done, were slim too for the very same reason.

  "Liddle," I shouted to his retreating back. "There's nowhere to run."

  He didn't stop and it was clear he knew the base much better than I did. He took two rapid corners and we entered a place I'd never been before. The lights weren't as bright and there were far fewer folks about. Corridors narrowed and took on less of a military look. Gone were the neat corners, the smooth walls, regularly spaced doors and helpful signs.

  Here the corridors were more, I struggled for the right word, practical. Sharp corners, exposed superstructure and wiring meshes, flickering panels and screens displaying data I didn't have a chance to stop and examine. The temperature had also increased, as if the air conditioning which sucked the heat from the rest of the base dumped it here. Sweat broke out across my forehead and I felt the VKYN issued jumpsuit start to stick to my skin where I’d rolled down my undergarments on the voyage here.

  "There's nowhere to run to, Liddle," I shouted. "Stop running." I didn't add the word 'please', but it was in the subtext.

  Breathing deeply, I sucked the warm, humid air into my lungs and ran on. The number of people thinned to one every hundred metres or so and all I had to follow were the sounds of his footsteps. He was quick. Possibly as quick as me. Drawing on my stubborn streak, and the well of anger bubbling away in my guts, I ploughed on as he ducked around yet another corner.