Ten minutes later TAPCON had sealed off the Argon and the entire hangar area. They’d started a search of the starship and found all the evidence that the crew had gathered to support their ‘ludicrous’ claims: the NIT, the electronic clipboard, the photos - everything. It was all taken away and destroyed.
The Zip informed the public that enquiries were being made into the mental health of all the crew and that Captain Jameson’s outburst was indeed caused by some form of radiation sickness. It was also mooted that something had happened to them when they were near the surface; that the Codes had secretly inflicted a ‘mindspell’ upon them, or a ‘incantation’ of some sort. Either way, nothing had been officially confirmed by TAPCON. And Sempre preferred it that way. He knew he could rely on the general public making up their own, even more incriminating, versions of the truth. As far as they were concerned, the muidog was still adorable, Zanthu was a villain and Jameson and his crew were all unintelligible, gun-shy misfits.
Unintelligible, gun-shy misfits or not, Sempre was currently informing Jameson of his new orders - the ones that Sashan had given him the previous evening - and either the Captain obeyed, or every single relative of the crew would be killed. Jameson had no choice.
“You are an evil, twisted little man, Sempre,” he said, with venom.
“Please, please. Less of the ‘little’, Jameson,” Sempre replied. But, really, he didn’t care about insults at this moment in time. Everything was going to plan, and he was feeling delirious with success.
Sempre’s line buzzed. It was Flugg.
“I’m in a meeting, Flugg!” he trounced. “Not now!”
“Yes, Mr. Sempre. I know that, sir. But you will have to take this call, sir. It’s the Codes, Mr. Sempre – and they’re on screen one!”
The doors on Sempre’s wall opened, the screen popped out and there, on the video link, was Qaanhu X.
The screen was filled with his image: plaited blonde hair (slightly grey), long beard, black kilt, complex Celtic-style knot - the works. He spoke in a sonorous, gravitas-filled voice.
“Mr. Sempre. You must return Zanthu and Spoolu to us at precisely 20:30 tomorrow evening at the coordinates I will send shortly… or we will attack Tapi-36 and leave no one alive. That is all.”
The screen went blank.
Perfect, thought Sempre. They’re playing right into my hands.
Chapter 20
13:44 - Sunday, July 29, 2187 (Muhaze, Tapi-36)
Mikita was going to get Polo back, no matter what it took.
Dressed in Plaateux-5 body armour and carrying a small munitions depot in her case, Mikita was now armed and dangerous. She fitted last night’s exaggerated description of her on The Zip to a ‘t’. Florina had driven Mikita back into Muhaze in the vehicle Gildan hot-wired in Lojikaal Parc. They’d decided that the last place the TTF would be looking for her would be at the scene of the crime - Weah Mansions - and that was where she was headed.
They didn’t talk much on their way into town. There was really nothing to say. Or rather, there was so much to say, that if they started down those lines, they would never stop.
Mikita looked up at every screen she could for any news of herself and saw, to her amazement, that the Starship Argon had captured a Code and an animal - a muidog. It was the main story. A picture of the Code youth (whose name, she saw, was Zanthu) came onto the screen as they were stopped at a traffic light.
Mikita couldn’t take her eyes off him.
She began to feel a strange twinge inside her body. No, it wasn’t the Golden Circuit, she knew that. It was something else - something much worse! Something she’d never felt before. She was feeling the unrestrainable chemistry of attraction. He was a Code, but that didn't matter - she could not stop looking at him. Then the lights changed and Florina drove on.
Her own face appeared several times on the Megatrons during the journey into town. However, she was pleased to note that the image was still that of the silver-haired Mikita.
There was nothing about Polo.
Florina dropped Mikita off at the alley behind the Mansions, where Gompi had caught her falling from the fire escape the previous evening. She wished Mikita well and reminded her, one last time, about the need to learn how to control her powers, and that it was not too late to change her mind and come with them to Plaateux-5. Mikita declined her offer, again citing her cousin’s safety as her primary concern, over and above personal advancements. Polo was her best friend, she was family, she was all she had. Florina accepted her decision with good grace and drove off.
It was early afternoon and Mikita was going to have to wait until dark before she could begin her plan. She had decided to hole up at Gildan’s and Florina’s flat. Of course, they hadn’t been TAPCON suspects after all, so their apartment was empty. Mikita simply had to get to it without attracting any attention to herself.
Gildan had fashioned her stolen suitcase into a backpack arrangement, so she could keep her hands free at all times. Mikita strapped it onto her back and guardedly made her way down the backstreet. She would have to be careful that she didn't bump into Gompi doing his rounds, that would be a disaster. She reminded herself that all mutants were like Earth-based crows - ‘the eyes of the devil’ - and that devil was David Sempre.
Gildan and Florina’s flat was at the very top of the building on Floor 15 and Mikita had chosen to go back up the fire escape rather than risk the front entrance and Gompi. It would be a long way up.
Then, Mikita heard voices and immediately backed-up against the brick of the Brownstone. Two TTF agents were out in the alley, by the garbage cans, talking to each other and smoking Earth-based cigarettes.
“So, Timmons, the apartment’s sorted, then, eh?”
“Yep. Completely empty now, Green. No sign that anyone ever lived there. Dontai and the mutant are getting it ready for the next Sourcer. Moving in tomorrow, he reckons. Hope he’s better than that Jones bloke. What a washout he was.”
“Yeah, pitiful display, wasn’t it? He let that Smith girl get the better of him, didn’t he. Must of have had a soft spot for her, huh?”
“It happens sometimes. The Sourcer’s, they end up falling for their Primos. And on his first job, as well! What a chump!”
“She’s wanted for a couple crimes now, isn’t she? What with Ryptal and everything?”
“Well, Wenceslaus did say she was dangerous. Looks like he was spot on. We’ll get her though, we always get them in the end!”
Mikita watched from behind a drainpipe, as the two men walked the opposite way down the alley to Tapcon Stratis. At the end of the lane a van pulled up. They flicked away their butt-ends, got in and drove off.
Mikita could not believe what she'd just heard! Dontai was in on the TAPCON business - and Hanoi, too! He was working for TAPCON, but not as a Nite-Watch, he was a ‘Sourcer’. She’d never heard of one of those before. It sounded like some kind of recruitment position. That would explain a lot - the way he was, the attempts to get her to work for the conglomerate, everything. Though what had they said at the end? Hanoi had fallen for her?
That means he might have really meant what he said… that he… that he loved me. Oh, fire!
The thought hit Mikita hard. He actually loved me… And I killed him.
She needed to put it out of her mind and focus on the job at hand. She had to - for Polo’s sake.
She climbed up onto the trash bins and got out a small grapple hook that she’d been given by Gildan. She aimed and launched it, finding the railing above the broken ladder on her first throw. They certainly came equipped for action, those two, she thought. Mikita tested the rope and began to haul herself up and onto the lower platform.
She retrieved the grapple and set off up the fire escape for Floor 15. She went slowly and carefully - a TTF gunman wasn’t shooting at her this time. Not yet, at least.
Despite a few awkward moments, she made it to the top without too much trouble. Floor 15, being the last floor of the building, was whe
re the main door for the fire exit was located. It was locked with a big, rusty chain around the handles that looked like it had not been used since 2105. Sure enough, it simply crumbled in Mikita’s grip and she was in.
So much for security, Dontai.
Florina and Gildan’s apartment was at the very end of the hall. Mikita walked quietly to their door, opened it with Florina’s key, and went inside.
It looked like a Hish-Hosh parlour in Muraqueshon!
Florina and Gildan clearly took their art of deception very seriously indeed. It was all ‘hoquo pipes and kaftoons a-go-go’ in their mystical den of Earth-based psychedelia. The walls were covered with Eastern carpets depicting elephants and lions and there were tall vases filled with various dried grasses and flowers. The whole room had the sweet odour of Earth-based oils, powders and fragrant herbs. It took Mikita several minutes to get accustomed to the new aromas.
She had a few hours to wait before sundown, so she opened her suitcase and re-checked her equipment. She was familiar with firearm maintenance, up to a point. As an orphaned child of TAPCON workers Mikita was taken in by the Airforce Kids project. They looked after her until the age of 16 - then she was on her own. But she'd been glad to get out - she wanted to get away from the oppressive TAPCON environment.
Mikita had had combat training as a matter of course during her schooling (it was an important part of the TAPCON curriculum, unsurprisingly) though not with this level of firepower. How ironic it was that her TAPCON training was coming in handy, now of all times.
She’d had some good instruction from Florina and Gildan but she wanted to make sure she could handle all the weapons like a pro. She practised in front of a full-length mirror and tried her best not to dwell on the events of the previous 24 hours. The past should stay where it belongs, she thought to herself, as she twirled blaster guns, flipped electro-knives and tossed imaginary riot grenades. And though the weapons were heavy, she soon got used to them.
Mikita worked hard, building up a sweat, constantly repeating her moves: gun hand, support hand, release, fire. She'd yet to fire them for real, of course, but there were some things you just had to learn on the job. If she could get past the guards at TAPCON she figured she could take a hostage and somehow worm her way to where Polo was being held. It was a slim chance, but a chance nevertheless.
At last the hours had dwindled away to nothing and the three moons of Tapi-36 were clearly visible in the sky. It seemed to Mikita that they were sitting up there, giving their judgement on mankind’s work, the way the trio of orbiting spheres looked down, grimly, on Muhaze City.
She went back down the fire escape and started to make her way across town to TAPCON Towers.
PART TWO
‘Survival’
Chapter 21
19:13 - Sunday, July 29, 2187 (Muhaze, Tapi-36)
Janeee Swish’s lecture for the next PASIV meeting was going to be about an important Earth-based leader named Mohandas Ghandi. She’d found his ideas on civil disobedience against British rule in 20th Century India hugely inspirational. Equally impressive were his tactics of non-violent protest and his pro-women stance.
Janeee knew that Tapian society - with all its ‘space programme’ this and ‘boldly going where no man had gone before’ that - was a male-dominated environment. No matter which way you sliced it, men were at the centre of this particular universe. It made her blood boil that women were still fighting for some kind of parity in this society, particularly when the advancements in science and technology were not equalled by those in basic human rights.
It might have appeared naively anachronistic in these violent, ‘nuclear-power-accepting’ times, but she truly hoped that her members would benefit from hearing about Ghandi’s writings and teachings.
Janeee had been deep in thought, considering the finer points of Ghandi’s Salt March, when she thought she’d heard the name ‘Mikita Smith’ on the radio in the kitchen. She was concentrating so hard it took her several seconds to realise what had happened.
She got up and went into the kitchen to confirm her suspicions, then into the living room where she turned on her TV. There on the screen, was a close-up of Mikita. Her Mikita.
“Wanted, for murder… and attempted murder…” Janeee whispered, to herself. Oh, no! What have you done! she thought, in complete horror.
Janeee sat motionless watching the rest of The Zip coverage, getting as much information on Mikita’s story as she could. She then searched the Yu-Web on her Serene, which gave her a slightly more in-depth version of events. But Janeee couldn’t believe what she was reading. The Mikita she knew would not be capable of the crimes she'd been accused of - it was simply not possible! There must be some mistake. Where would Mikita even get a gun? Let alone summon the nerve to shoot at a TTF agent! And murdering Hanoi Jones? Mikita wouldn’t hurt a Muhazian fly!
Janeee was a passionate, sometimes stubborn, person who refused to believe that the people she'd put her faith in were ever in the wrong. She was headstrong (certainly), an idealist (definitely) but she was no fool. She knew when she smelled a Tapian rat, and she could smell a big one, right now, crawling away to hide itself in the gutter outside the TAPCON buildings. Sempre must have something to do with this, she thought to herself. I need to get organised!
This was the way Janeee operated. Quickly, clearly and without pausing to doubt her abilities. It was in her blood; in the immersive way she'd been brought up.
At the ripe old age of 23, she was already an old hand at political activism. Her mother and father had both protested against TAPCON when Muhaze was under the leadership of Christian Sashan. She'd been on rallies since she was a little girl and knew that preparation was the secret to a successful campaign of social dissent.
Janeee was home-educated and had not been to a school, or to the Mu-U. At times, she regretted that she'd not had a public education but she recognised the benefits of her home-schooling. Her ideas and thinking were sound, she had no external distractions, she had plenty of friends and she was socially skilled. Indeed, it was her love of people - and the desire for their universal freedom - that led her to do the things she did.
But what about the future of PASIV? Where did Janeee see this journey taking her?
To start off with, she couldn’t help noticing the ironic similarity between PASIV and the Froome. They were both providing Sempre with an excuse to keep ploughing ahead with his military spending. The more trouble they made, the more Sempre would get his way. Still, Janeee saw this as a necessary evil. There was no choice but to take their message to the streets and spread the word that TAPCON had corruption running through its veins.
Her ultimate ambition was to get PASIV into TAPCON, and take it down from the inside. That was the ideal. The reality, however, had proven somewhat more difficult. Mikita had been on her way, but now, with this new set of perplexing problems she had, it looked like Mikita Smith was going to be another potential star snuffed out before it even got its place in the firmament.
In Janeee’s heart of hearts was the belief that you could change anything with political action by public protest. If you do enough of it, in the right places, getting the attention of the right people, then miracles could happen. That night, she was hoping that one would happen for Mikita.
Chapter 22
19:28 - Sunday, July 29, 2187 (Tapcon Stratis, Muhaze, Tapi-36)
Downtown Muhaze City on a Sunday night. It wasn’t the busiest time of the week, but Mikita once again stuck to the dimly lit pockets of safety she found between the street lamps. She didn't have much to worry about as regards being recognised was concerned. A light scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face and a wide, black hair-band were enough to preserve her identity. Her face was the biggest threat to her security and, although there were still a few street-cleaner-mutants out and about, most humans were safely ensconced at home. Of course they were… they were Muhazians.
They were having their dinner.
They w
ere tidying up their kitchens.
They were putting their children to bed for an early night before school in the morning.
They were doing their ironing.
They were thinking about their busy week ahead.
They were watching The Zip in their front rooms.
They were sitting in a comfortable chair thinking what a nasty person that Mikita Smith was, what a hopeless assemblage the crew of the Argon were, and what an adorable creature that poor muidog was.
They were thinking how grateful they were that the nice, short man from TAPCON - What was his name? David something? - was taking care of them.
They were happy in their cosy New Frontier space-homes, with that small bit of garden in the front and the nicely trimmed red grass in the back.
But out there, in the real world, a young woman was in trouble with the law, and she had none of those thoughts.
Mikita stopped in a doorway to collect herself and considered her situation carefully, as if for the first time.
She knew she had enough fire power in her case to wipe out a small town, but could she really go ahead with it? Was she really going to blast her way into TAPCON and save her cousin? Just like that? The idea had seemed good at the time, plausible even - in the heat of the moment - but now that a sense of harsh realism had crept in, she was swimming against a tide of doubt. No, not a tide of doubt - more like a tsunami.
Sometimes Mikita was so optimistic she felt like her lungs were filled to bursting, that there was so much to holler about, so much that made her feel alive. And if she ever did happen to let out those thoughts, the exhalation would be so terrifyingly formidable that it would scorch everything in its way, as it screamed towards the periphery in a mighty, incendiary shout.
The Golden Circuit (The Smith Chronicles) Page 13
