The O'Neal Saboteur

by Nathan Pedde

  A chill spread across his back, for some reason, Des knew Veer wasn’t bluffing. The next time he saw Veer as Des, he would go for the jugular.

  “Well,” Des said, “If I ever meet a Des, I’ll tell him to stay clear.”

  Mr. Smith marched into the class and walked around the room. He grabbed the notes from the previous day's lecture from each of the students.

  Des saw Mr. Smith glare at Veer as he saw he had no notes to hand in.

  Mr. Smith started his lecture and droned on about the benefits of sleep and when to do it.

  Des tried his best to pay attention. He reminded himself he had to pay attention to what the professor was saying as he had to remember the information without taking any notes. He had to write out what was lectured today in the next class. It also had to be detailed, and precise.

  He knew if your notes weren’t good enough to fail too many times in a row, you were asked to stop coming to class. Des had noticed at least a quarter of the students which had started the course, were no longer attending. The word which spread was they failed the course.

  So far, Des figured he was doing okay in his notes. He hadn’t talked much at all to the teacher, and that was usually the bad news.

  Mr. Smith wasn’t a pacer as his usual habit; his standard was that he stood at attention to give his lectures. Today, he walked up the rows of desks as he talked. Mr. Smith walked past Des's desk and continued to the front.

  Des noticed there was something in his own right hand. Mr. Smith had been clenching it during the lecture and somehow got it into his hand without anyone seeing.

  He looked down and quickly opened it up.

  The note said, “See me after class. S. PS. Eat this note.”

  Des popped the note into his mouth and stuck it next to his teeth. He wasn’t about to eat a piece of paper. However, there had to be a reason Mr. Smith didn’t want anyone to know about the note, or it was a class on espionage, and that was how things were done.

  Mr. Smith stopped talking in the middle of the sentence. The hour was up, and the class was over.

  “And that’s class,” Mr. Smith said, “I’ll see you, tomorrow.”

  The students got up at once and exited the classroom in a single mass. Des waited a moment for the pack to leave. Veer exited the classroom ahead of Des.

  “I’ll see you later,” Veer said.

  Des stood up from his desk but left his pen sitting on top of the desk. He walked out of the classroom and entered the hallway. He touched his pocket as if he was checking for things.

  “Pen,” Des muttered to himself.

  Veer looked at Des with a sneer on his face.

  Des ignored the arrogance of Veer and walked back into the classroom.

  The classroom was empty of students. The only other person in the room was Mr. Smith.

  He shut the door behind Des.

  “Pen,” Mr. Smith said as he handed it to Des.

  “Thanks,” Des said, “Thin excuse to come back into class, but I had short notice.”

  “Where’s the note?” Mr. Smith said, “Did you actually eat it?”

  “I put it in my mouth,” Des replied.

  “Did you eat it?”

  “Yes,” Des lied.

  “Good,” Mr. Smith said as his eyes wandered to the doorway of the classroom, “Never try to hide a note. Either on your body or clothes. They’ll find it. Especially if it’s in your mouth crammed next to your teeth. Unless it’s tiny, the note will cause a slight bulge in your gums. Hard to see, but if you know what you’re looking for…”

  Des swallowed the note when Mr. Smith looked away.

  “What did you want to see me about?” Des asked.

  “There isn’t much in this station that I don’t know about,” Mr. Smith said, “Especially when it comes to what happens to my students. I know what happened the last couple weeks. I know what happened to you and the rescue from a certain other student.”

  “You heard about that?”

  “I just told you I did.”

  “How?”

  “I’m a spy,” Mr. Smith said.

  “Right,” Des said, “Then you know how I got out of it?”

  “You’ve found yourself in dire situations twice in the last couple weeks, and both times you were saved by someone else. You didn’t get out of it by your own power.”

  “Crap. You do know.”

  “I do,” Mr. Smith said, “But you ran headlong into it, while others did nothing. So that’s commendable. But you must learn to think about your actions before you do. Try not to get into a bad situation where you could get hurt or worse.”

  Des nodded.

  “Each student here was sponsored by an intelligence organization. Some local, while others are from farther away. Some are from the same organization, but different cells so they don’t know who each other really is. You shouldn’t trust anyone in the class. But saying that, I feel you need to get really close to one who calls himself Veer.”

  “Keep him close?”

  “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer,” Mr. Smith said, “That way you know what he’s about to do.”

  “How do you do that?” Des asked.

  “I’ll let you think about it,” Mr. Smith said, “But that’s not why I asked you to talk to me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ve been informed by your sponsor that you have issues with your daily life,” Mr. Smith said, “I want to hear from you in your own words. Why are you having issues?”

  Des thought about it for a moment.

  “I’m a year younger than the other kids in my grade,” Des said, “I fought to get bumped ahead as I knew the stuff they were trying to teach me. I managed to keep myself in the top of my new class. Then this spy stuff has thrown me on my head, and my grades have suffered.”

  “Are you failing?”

  “No,” Des said, “But I went from in the top of the class to a mid-lister. Which was noticed by almost everyone.”

  “People like to see the gifted among us fail,” Mr. Smith said, “I’ve a temporary solution to your problem. If you’d like.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I have a data disk here,” Mr. Smith said, “You need to sneak into the administrator’s office to your school and put this disk into a computer. You’ll need to get a teacher's credentials to get access you the office and the computer.”

  “What will the disk do?” Des asked, “My grades have been noticed by the teachers, a jump in the grades will be noticed.”

  “You’re going to be given credit for time served in the service of the station,” Mr. Smith said, “If they look into it, it’ll be classified due to the war. Extra grades are given out all the time.”

  “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “Trust me. They’ll think it’s a glitch, but they wouldn't be able to change it. They’ll go up to their superiors, and they’ll get told to leave it alone. You won’t even be bugged about it.”

  “That might work,” Des said.

  Mr. Smith turned to look at the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Now how do you get out of here,” Mr. Smith said, “I bet Veer is watching the doorway like a hawk.”

  “I never understood the phrase,” Des said, “Like a hawk. I’ve never seen a hawk.”

  “A hawk is a bird back on earth with very good eyesight.” Mr. Smith said.

  Using as much silence as Des could muster, he stood on top of a desk. He reached up and slid a ceiling tile over from the drop ceiling.

  In the space of a few moments, while Mr. Smith was looking at the door, Des pulled down a rope and pulled himself up and into the ceiling space.

  “It was capable of seeing a mouth from a kilometer in the sky,” Mr. Smith said, “Amazing, no.”

  Des replaced the ceiling tile behind him. The area above the ceiling tiles was five feet tall and ran the length of the school. Space was usually filled with cables and air ducting. This spot was clear o
f all of the mess.

  “Des?” Mr. Smith said.

  Through a small hole in the ceiling tile, Des watched, Mr. Smith turn to where he should have stood.

  “And that’s why you’re in this class,” Mr. Smith muttered.

  Des made his way across the ceiling, he had to place his hands and feet in certain places or else he risked falling through the ceiling. He had never done this in a real situation. He had taken the trip once before to test out his escape route, but it was at night. This was during the day with the early risers starting to show up. Des heard the classroom door open and then the shuffling of desks.

  After a few moments, Des stood over what he thought was the hallway outside the classroom.

  “What do you mean it’s empty?” Veer snarled from the hallway.

  “It’s empty,” the oOther Student said, “Mr. Smith left down the hallway, and there is no one in here.”

  “Is he in the broom closet?” Veer asked.

  “No one is in there,” the Other Student said, “Maybe he has an invisibility cloak or something.”

  Des heard a slap echo from the hallway.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Veer said, “You read too many old books.”

  “Why’d you hit me.” the Other student said.

  “Cause you’re an idiot,” Veer said, “If we can’t catch Ryder, maybe we can get to Des. We have him so spooked he’s scared of his own shadow.”

  The crunch of a body hitting a locker echoed from the hallway.

  Des heard a voice from the hallway.

  “What did you say about Des?” Sheemo’s gruff voice said, Des didn’t expect to hear his voice in that tone.

  “Who do you think you are?” Veer sneered.

  “I’m a senior, and you’re talking about my kid brother.”

  “Oh, crap,” Veer’s friend said.

  “Not that Des,” Veer said, “Another Des.”

  “He has a unique name. No one else in this station has it. I know. He checked,” Sheemo said.

  “Run,” the Other Student said.

  Des laughed to himself as he made his way to the exit point.

  The boy’s washroom. Des dropped into an empty stall. Des dusted off his jacket and left the toilet. He left the school with his standard second story window exit.

  Chapter 27

  Des arrived at his school a little earlier than he usually did, but that was only by minutes. He stressed his way through the first few classes. The classes seemed to take forever to get through, but the lunch bell rang.

  He wandered his way to his locker where Alix waited for him.

  “Why the long face?” Alix asked.

  Des handed him a piece of plasto-paper.

  “That sucks man,” Alix said.

  Alix was looking at a written report Des had done up. The single piece of paper was covered in red ink, and a sixty-seven was written in bold letters across the top of the paper.

  “Yeh,” Des said, “I’m so busy with this stupid job. There isn’t enough time in the day.”

  “What’s time?” Alix said.

  “What do you mean what’s time?” Des asked.

  “What’s a day?” Alix said.

  “A day is twenty-four hours,” Des said, “Why is a day twenty-four hours and not twelve, or thirty.”

  “We’re at war with Earth,” Alix said, “And they set the amount of time in a day by their planets rotation. We need to scrap it as it’s not important. Here on the station, we can have a day whatever we want.”

  “A day on Mars is twenty-four hours,” Des said.

  “Yeh,” Alix said, “So? That’s Mars, not Jovia.”

  “Io’s day is forty-one hours,” Des said, “Europa’s is eighty-four hours, Ganymede’s is a hundred and seventy hours and Calisto’s is three hundred and eighty-four. Which rock’s day do we take?”

  “Well…” Alix said, “You have a point.”

  “I lived on Europa,” Des said, “In the Undercity, you don’t see the sun. They go by Earth Time. Those who do see the sun, they have two clocks. Local time and Earth time.”

  “You were the one who wants more time in the day,” Alix said.

  “I do,” Des said, “But there will never be enough time in the day, no matter how long it is.”

  “That’s true,” Alix said, “What’s your plan for the day?”

  “I got work and studying,” Des said, “I need to get a ninety on the test next week to turn this slump around.”

  “Well,” Alix said, “Good luck.”

  The rest of the day went by as it always did. At the end of the school day, he went to his job at Courier One. Diplin was nowhere to be seen; not that Des cared about it.

  His deliveries went by easier as Diplin didn’t try to sabotage his route. At the end of his route, he went back to the office, dropped off his uniform and hover-scooter.

  Des discovered stairs were going out of the building to the rear, which he took most days. Today he took the elevator.

  He was happy he had a couple days off from Courier One. He hoped it would give him more time to get caught up in his school work. However, knowing Cryslis, he would spend it doing other things.

  Des exited the elevator and walked down the stark, bland hallway into the lobby, which hadn’t changed much in the few weeks he had worked at Courier One. The same dull white walls and the same countertop. The receptionist had changed many times though. To Des, it seemed like there was always someone else behind the desk.

  At first, Des tried to learn their names, but as they left just as quickly, Des didn’t have time to do so.

  “Done for the day?” the Receptionist asked.

  The receptionist was a younger looking woman. Des thought she was in her early twenties. She had a petite-shaped face and was probably very short. Des didn’t know as he had never seen her stand up.

  “I am,” Des said, “Thank you.”

  “Have a good day,” the Receptionist said.

  Des left the lobby of Courier One. He was hoping it would be for good, but he knew in three days he would be forced to return to the dreaded work.

  He walked down the street. Des was trying to enjoy the rest of the day, but he couldn’t. His eyes darted to different people. His mind continually evaluating the person. Is he or she a threat to him? Are they an agent? Des couldn’t help himself. It was like a very thick film was removed from his eyes. He could now see better. He could see the truth of the world.

  “You conscious Des?” Elsie voiced echoed through the Neuronet.

  “No. I’m sleepwalking down the road towards the train,” Des replied.

  “When’s Susan’s voluntold-thingy again? Which Saturday?” Elsie asked.

  “I’m not sure. It keeps getting bumped back. Something about the lack of supply of the product,” Des said, “Why?”

  “If you’re going to help her out,” Elsie said, “I can use the extra credits. I’d like to help out.”

  “I’m sure Susan would love to have you help out,” Des said.

  A third voice broke through the Neuronet.

  “Elsie, Des. Are you two there?” Cryslis said.

  “Yes,” Des said.

  “Of course,” Elsie said.

  “Code red,” Cryslis said, “The safehouse alpha-bravo-echo has been compromised. I need you back here ASAP. We need to move safehouses.”

  “Sweet Jupiter,” Des said, “I’m en route.”

  Des turned up a side street and walked a little faster.

  “I’m rolling,” Elsie said, “Didn’t we just move safehouses?”

  “Shut it, Elsie,” Cryslis said, “Just get here.”

  “I’ll be there in five.”

  “Five minutes?” Des said, “what are you up to?”

  “Girl things,” Elsie replied, “How long until you get their smart guy?”

  “At least twenty.”

  “Let’s have a race,” Elsie said.

  “I’ll see you when I get there,” Des said.

&nb
sp; Des hung up on the two connections on the net.

  So much for lallygagging and enjoying a walk down the street, Des thought.

  ***

  The safehouse was in shambles. Piles of debris were scattered across the room. The couch cushions were slashed and cut open. The soft foamy guts were scattered everywhere. Cryslis had a couple of potted plants in the window sills, they had been smashed apart, and the dirt spread around by everyone walking through the safehouse.

  Des stood in the doorway of the safehouse, and his jaw had dropped to the floor. Des took a couple step forward and let the door click shut.

  “It looks like a bomb has gone off,” Des said.

  Cooley looked up at Des from the pile of debris he was sorting through.

  “They did this in five minutes,” Cooley said.

  “Five minutes?” Des said, “That’s insane.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Do we know who did it?”

  “Probably kids. Teenagers,” Cooley replied.

  “Teenagers are the worse,” Des said, “How did the guys get in?”

  “I’ve no idea,” Cooley said, “The computer is fried, so I can’t check the cameras or the sensors. I may not have any of the data left for me to analysis.”

  Cryslis walked around the corner. She had a pile of cables in her hands.

  “Cooley and I are going through what data we have left and getting things ready to move safehouses,” Cryslis said, “I want you to help Elsie in documenting the damage and seeing if we can’t find any clues in who did this.”

  Des nodded and walked down the hallway. In one of the bedrooms was Elsie. She stood in the middle of the room taking pictures of the debris. She looked up from her camera at Des.

  “Welcome to the mess,” Elsie said, “I beat you here.”

  “No really?” Des said.

  “I’m teasing you,” Elsie said.

  “I see you’ve started. Do you have a plan?”

  “Yes,” Elsie said as she pulled out a camera from her pocket, “Start taking pictures of the other bedroom. Go over anything. Take lots of panoramic shots as well as close-ups.”

  “Take pictures of everything. Got it.”

  “No,” Elsie said, “There is a system here. The computer program which Cooley uses, will analyze the panoramic shots first and then the close-ups. If there aren't panoramic shots, then the system has a hiccup.”