Transilience

by Kevin Bragg

  ‘I’m sorry. Did you say Nolan Kitterman?’

  ‘Yeah. Nolan Kitterman.’

  ‘He’s dead, Helm. Been dead a long time if I recall correctly.’

  ‘Well, I’m telling you he’s in the next car over.’

  Seconds passed. Ashdown sighed. ‘Alright, Helm. Tell me where.’

  ‘I’m not sure exactly. I’ll text you when we stop.’

  ‘Fine. Fine. I’m on my way.’

  With so few people out, I had to pull my ball cap down low on my forehead and slouch as much as possible. Kitterman stood, which made keeping an eye on him easier but harder to stay out of view. Still, at every stop, I’d peer through the windows in an effort to catch a glimpse of him exiting.

  Finally at the Waterman Station in the IM, he did.

  I waited until the last possible second before sprinting out and behind a support pillar. And, as improbable as it seemed, Nolan Kitterman continued on at his care-free pace. I fired a message to Ashdown and waited a few minutes before following Kitterman out of the station. On the way up the steps, I patted my right jacket pocket and felt a familiar shape. The NEEDLE hadn’t left me under mysterious circumstances.

  When I made it out to the surface, there stood Nolan Kitterman in the middle of the deserted street, waiting for me.

  26

  Nolan and I squared off like a couple of gunslingers in a duel to the death. The only thing missing was the odd piece of tumbleweed blowing past us and Morricone playing in the background.

  ‘You’re a very persistent man, Daniel Helmqvist.’ A hint of an Oxford accent played at the fringes of his tone. ‘However, I fear that our little cat and mouse game has come to an end.’

  I had no idea if that was a threat or merely a statement of fact. Either way, I tensed up.

  ‘You’re one to talk, Kitterman.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You were the one following me at the start of this case, right?’

  ‘Guilty as charged,’ he replied with a grin and a nod. ‘However, other matters pulled my attentions elsewhere. You can imagine my surprise at the amount of mischief you could get into in such a short amount of time. Your persistence necessitated my return but now I must leave this city.’

  ‘Do you have the storage device that lunatic android ripped outta Charlotte Rennick?’ I asked, trying to buy more time for Ashdown to show up. Much to my surprise, he actually answered me.

  ‘Yes,’ he said and pulled it from his pocket. ‘It’s right here.’

  ‘Does it contain information concerning the planning and execution of an attack on the headquarters of the United Nations that took place five years ago?’

  ‘I think that we both know the answer to that question.’

  ‘Then why has she kept it?’ I replied and took a few steps towards Nolan, narrowing the gap to about 10 metres. ‘It is the one piece of evidence that would ruin her. Everything she has created, her entire life’s work, would collapse around her if that information was ever made public.’

  ‘Why do we keep anything? We cling to old, useless things as though they are the keys to our memories. My daughter is a sentimental person, Mr Helmqvist. In this regard, she is no different than anyone else.’ His eyes narrowed at my approach. I immediately regretted the decision.

  ‘You mean to tell me the knowledge of countless deaths and the media coverage that followed aren’t enough of a reminder? Is the datapad nothing more than a trophy that sociopaths like her enjoy collecting from their victims?’

  ‘Tut tut. There is no need to be cruel. The UN bombing wasn’t about media coverage. It was about making a point. A reminder to the world’s leaders that they must protect their borders against further harm done to Earth’s great epicentres of civilisation by the continual influx of ignorant degenerates. An event to spark serious discussion.’

  ‘Bullshit. Answering the question, “What kind of sick bastard would do this?” is the only discussion this event sparked. No one talked about immigration policy in the aftermath. The only thing terrorism ever achieves is senseless death. You’re smart enough to know that.’ As that last sentence escaped my lips, I prepared to be murdered. He never moved. His feet stayed firmly planted. Whew!

  ‘Don’t be too certain of that. The American colonists mounted an effective campaign of terror, which led to the formation of a new country. And generally, history bears proof that change – radical, meaningful change – is often precluded by violence.’ He paused for a moment. The growing fervour in his eyes subsided.

  Where the hell was Ashdown?!

  He began again but with more subdued tone. ‘Besides, the storage device contains more than just the final wishes of a dying man. There is also the voice and encouragement of a very important person in her life. The one person who ever meant anything to her. The one person who protected her from the cruelties of the world. The one person who guided her through life and gave her a sense of purpose.’

  ‘You.’

  ‘That’s right, Mr Helmqvist.’ He slipped the device back into his pocket. ‘In the end, an interactive holographic programme I had installed on the unit meant too much for her to simply destroy it. It was all that she had left of me.’

  ‘She could have separated the two. For a genius like her, it should be child’s play to do so.’

  He shrugged. ‘As I said, my Mara is a sweet, sentimental person. I have no answer beyond that.’

  Keep him talking. Wait for the opportunity.

  ‘Are you Transilience?’ As I asked the question, I flexed my right hand and visualised drawing the stun gun. Maybe I could take him unawares.

  ‘My, my… so many questions. Yes, I am. As was the unit who blew up the UN compound. As is James, who you met at that abandoned warehouse.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘As is Ms Rennick. There are, or were, four of us in the Transilience project.’

  ‘I’m guessing the fourth unit was a clone of Paul Fischer, the guy arrested for the actual bombing, and had a built-in explosive device?’

  Kitterman nodded. ‘Yes, on both accounts.’

  ‘The nature of his construction must have blocked, or fooled, their detectors,’ I said out loud; more to myself than Kitterman. He answered anyway.

  ‘Brilliant deduction!’

  Man, I hated this guy, but with no sign of Ashdown, I continued my stall tactics.

  ‘Why didn’t you take Charlotte to the warehouse instead of that James character?’

  ‘Because I was following you. Ms Rennick was taken to the IM by James to test a theory and to remove the datapad as a precaution. He was the only other person Mara could trust with her secret.’

  ‘What theory?’

  ‘That you had had contact with Charlotte and given her some sort of tracking device. A clever design, I should admit.’

  ‘Gee, thanks.’

  Where the hell could Ashdown be??

  ‘James took Ms Rennick to the warehouse to retrieve the storage device and arrange a false crime scene. I trailed you to monitor your actions. When you went straight to the location of James and Charlotte, I waited in the shadows to see how things would play out.’

  ‘You’ve gotten better Nolan. I’ll give you that. I had no idea you were on my tail.’

  ‘Why thank you. Nevertheless, when you disabled James, I was forced to intervene for fear that you might actually succeed in implicating my daughter in the UN plot.’

  ‘Why are you telling me all of this?’ I asked after a quick look past Nolan and down the block. Empty.

  ‘Isn’t this what bad guys do? Reveal the details of their sordid plans to the hero right before he saves the day?’

  ‘Makes for a good movie, sure, but it rarely happens in real life.’

  ‘Well then, how about I’m being candid because you deserve to know the truth. You are a good detective and against lesser minds, I have no doubt you would have prevailed. I respect you, which is why I haven’t killed you. Besides, anything I’ve said cannot be proven. I possess t
he datapad. And the one piece of evidence you did have, you threw down an alley for some poor guy to find.’ He glanced up at the sky. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must be going.’

  Lesser minds, some guy.

  ‘You’re not getting away this time, Kitterman!’ I drew the NEEDLE and fired in one fluid motion.

  At that range, he couldn’t react fast enough to completely avoid the projectile and the dart buried itself in his shoulder. The charge should incapacitate him in a matter of seconds. Time seemed to slow down and I watched expectantly. Nothing happened.

  I had the wrong charge in the damn gun.

  He laughed and plucked the dart out of his shoulder, tossing it on the ground. ‘Your lack of attention to detail, Mr Helmqvist. It is what will cost you success in your endeavours.’

  Every muscle in my body tensed in anticipation of Kitterman reneging on his decision to kill me, but it never happened. Instead, Ashdown came screeching around the corner.

  Kitterman picked up his satchel and began running east. I stood there, bewildered, watching him go.

  ‘Get in the damn car!’ Ashdown had opened the passenger side door and yelled through it. I tucked the NEEDLE into the waist of jeans at the small of my back and sprinted towards the detective.

  *

  We lost Kitterman when he rounded a corner, but it didn’t matter. We knew his destination: a large industrial complex adjacent to the edge of the IM’s dome called The New London Excavation and Salvage Company.

  They specialised in mining raw materials from a quarry located on the eastern perimeter of the Chryse Planitia. The company also recovered spent water silos from the hydration delivery field, located to the south-east of the IM, and recycled them for use in other industries.

  NLESC was one of the few non-governmental operations outside the Spaceport with permission for an airlock. It must have been how he entered the city without being detected. If he made it to the exit before we could catch him, that would be it. He’d escape with the evidence.

  We raced through the empty streets of the IM dome. The dashboard strobe light flickered blue. A siren, tucked somewhere in the engine compartment, wailed.

  ‘Call Metro Dispatch access code three-zero-three!’ Ashdown shouted to no one. The ringing of a phone replaced the cries of the siren.

  ‘Metro Dispatch.’

  ‘Metro, this is Detective Ashdown. Badge number two-five-one-seven. I am in chase of a person of interest, heading east towards New London Excavation and Salvage. I believe his intent is to breach the airlock at the facility and escape onto the surface. Send interior and exterior units forthwith. Please have the outside unit bring two additional Pursuit EVA suits.’ He glanced over at me. ‘Both size large. Subject may not be armed but is extremely dangerous.’ I nodded my agreement.

  ‘Roger that 2517. Units are being mobilised now.’

  ‘Thank you Dispatch. Ashdown out.’

  The call terminated and the sirens resumed their screeching.

  About 30 seconds later, we closed in on Kitterman as he neared a service door in one of the high metal walls that ringed in the piles of junk in NLESC’s scrap yard. Ashdown jammed on the brakes and brought the vehicle to a sudden stop. The detective was out of his seat. Before I had a chance to undo my seatbelt, he drew a model of pistol I’d never seen before and aimed it over the doorframe in Kitterman’s direction.

  ‘Metro Police! Don’t move!’ he barked. Naturally, Kitterman moved. He kicked the door through and completely off its hinges like some sort of cheap movie prop. Ashdown squeezed off two rounds. Lances of blue light about 15 centimetres long streaked towards Nolan. He slipped through the doorway. The shots went wide of the mark anyway and energy dissipated along the wall.

  I had at long last extracted myself from the car and watched with fascination. ‘What are you using?’ I asked as I glanced at the weapon from over the car roof.

  Ashdown started to move. I followed. ‘It’s new. An Enfield PEP mark one.’ He had it low to his side and we reached the wall with caution.

  ‘Pep?’ I asked when we reached the outer wall.

  ‘Pulsed Energy Pistol. The weapon fires a non-lethal electrical bolt. The clip holds a battery with enough juice for twelve shots. It’s effective against humans and androids alike… Look, Helm, can we talk about this later? Maybe when we aren’t chasing someone?’

  ‘Yeah. Sorry. After you.’

  Ashdown spun and squared up to the doorway in a modified Weaver stance. Once he cleared the doorway, I slipped in behind him.

  Between us and a cube of a building that ran right up to the dome sat huge piles of twisted metal and remnants of giant capsule-shaped water containers. Kitterman was nowhere in sight. Ashdown swept from side to side as he advanced towards an entrance door at a careful pace. With so many hiding spots and blind turns, our quarry had the advantage.

  As we cleared a couple of huge mounds of junk, I caught the flash of metal out of the corner of my eye from left and behind us. Ashdown didn’t see it. I rolled out of the way. Ashdown took it like he was a change-up left up in the zone. The blow from the large, thin-walled section of aluminium ductwork sent him face down in the dirt. A groan told me the detective wasn’t dead. A pile of scrap swallowed up his gun.

  I charged Kitterman. At about 2 metres distance, I leapt. Left hand leading the way, right hand cocked back to deliver a haymaker from an elevated position. Kitterman hopped back. I landed. He dipped under my attack and countered with a palm strike to my chest. The blow sent me backwards. I landed on my ass, gasping for breath.

  Nolan looked up from me towards the sound of more sirens. He left me on the ground and ran for the door of the building. I rolled Ashdown over and checked on him. He was already starting to stir.

  Tough as nails, that one.

  I clutched my chest and chased after Kitterman. Before I reached the doorway, I tossed my NEEDLE deep into a giant pile of twisted metal. I didn’t see the point in carrying an obviously antiquated piece of weaponry anymore and its discovery on my person would only get me in trouble.

  The airlock consisted of a massive 3-door system in a 12-metre diameter, 50-metre-long shaft. Standard protocol dictated that two of the three doors had to be engaged at all times. Any sort of failure of one of the locks could be catastrophic. Most facilities had all three closed when not in use. One can never be too careful.

  Locks of the size used by NLESC also came with service hatches next to the airlock to allow workers in and out of the tunnel without having to burn a lot of energy on opening the giant portals. The exception was the airlock that led directly to the Martian surface. It didn’t have a service hatch.

  Kitterman had bypassed the access doors’ security features by ripping them off their hinges. When I made it to the first lock, I found the hatch at my feet.

  A straight shot through the middle hatch, I saw Nolan working at a furious pace to override the exterior lock. I had only made it into the first chamber, when he glanced over his shoulder and spotted me. The disk holding the harsh Martian environment at bay began to open.

  ‘Give it up, Mr Helmqvist,’ Nolan Kitterman shouted. Air began escaping past me and into the thinner atmosphere. ‘Where I go, you cannot follow.’

  I had no way of knowing the position of the exterior police unit. I had to hope that they were close.

  The pull of the world beyond the dome increased as the crack widened. I gripped the doorframe of the second access hatch with every ounce of strength I had left.

  ‘This isn’t over, Kitterman!’ A hollow threat perhaps, but I had to say something. He responded by laughing again.

  ‘Once again, your lack of attention to detail, Mr Helmqvist. You have been outwitted at every turn. And now, I bid you adieu,’ he said with a slight bow.

  When the door had opened about halfway, Kitterman leapt past it and vanished into the night.

  I let go of the one thing keeping me inside and skidded along the ground towards the exit. I hit the partially expose
d door so hard that it knocked the wind out of me. Pain coursed through my not-fully-healed body. I hadn’t even noticed Ashdown. He’d slid along the wall next to me and pounded the emergency close button.

  Moments later, the door made a resounding bang. The air pressure normalised and breathing came easier with each gasp. Ashdown offered a hand and pulled me to my feet.

  ‘Metro Dispatch access code three-zero-three,’ he called into his earpiece.

  ‘Metro Dispatch. Go ahead.’

  ‘This is Ashdown. Where the hell are my Speeders?’

  ‘There are two units en route to your position. ETA three minutes.’

  ‘Dammit! The suspect is outside. We’ll lose him if they don’t hurry.’

  ‘Should I have them pursue two-five-one-seven?’

  ‘No! Just tell them to get their asses here!’

  ‘Roger that.’

  A lot can happen in three minutes, it seems. In that span of time, two squad cars arrived on the scene and Ashdown had them combing the salvage yard. In the airlock, we had donned temporary breathing masks we’d found in an emergency supply cabinet. Ashdown and I lashed ourselves to the airlock wall and he reopened the exterior portal.

  When the Speeders arrived, he closed the lock only long enough for us to squirm into a light-weight version of the standard issue EVA suit. They offered adequate protection from the elements; however, the smaller respirator unit attached under the helmet’s chin provided only one hour’s worth of oxygen. They called them Pursuit EVAs because you could get them on quickly. By the time we were outside the airlock, discussing our next move, we had given Nolan Kitterman at least a five-minute head start.

  For a guy who could move as fast as he could, it might as well have been 30 minutes.

  27

  ‘Did you see anyone out here?’ barked Ashdown to the lead officer.

  ‘Umm. No, sir.’

  I found a set of prints. ‘His tracks head east.’

  ‘We came from the south,’ the officer interjected as reason for them not seeing a man running across a landscape not conducive to hosting marathons.