The Golden Circuit (The Smith Chronicles)

by John K. Irvine

  He told them of his background as a scientist and what his work was involved with. How he hated David Sempre for the things he’d done to him and his family. How he’d suffered at the hands of TAPCON for all these years, the mental hardship of having your loved ones far away on a distant moon, guarded by mutants that he was in charge of programming; impotent to help them for fear of the consequences. But now he’d found a way to change all that and needed their help.

  Several audience members began to shed some tears for Tamashito and his family, and, by the end of his 20-minute speech, he'd become like a hero to them.

  Finally, he explained his proposal for the take-over of The Zip.

  It was a lengthy set of instructions, but everything stemmed from one basic premise: Tamashito would reprogramme the mutants to allow PASIV access to The Zip building.

  At the mere mention of an activator word (fittingly chosen as ‘satyagraha’, a Sanskrit word created by Ghandi to mean ‘the force of truth’) the mutants would obey any instructions that PASIV gave them. They would be totally at their disposal. But once PASIV was inside The Zip, it was up to them.

  Janeee thanked Dr. Tamashito profusely as he sat down to rapturous applause, then she added: “I need everyone in their positions ready to go at 11:30am precisely. Now is our time comrades. Now is the time for PASIV to achieve its dreams!”

  Ghandi would have been proud.

  Chapter 27

  14:22 - Monday, July 30, 2187 (Starship Argon, nr. Tapi-36)

  The Argon had left Muhaze and was on its way to Kloq-888. It would arrive there in a little over 4 hrs.

  The crew got on with their jobs as best they could, but nobody really wanted to be there. They knew that this mission was completely unnecessary and criminally unjust. Their position in all of this was like that of an executioner - plain, unthinking, jobs-worthian murder. The Codes had done nothing wrong. Nothing to support any claims of illegality and it was now the crew’s duty to eliminate them. Without question. They were all struggling with their respected consciences and, to make matters worse, the two androids had taken it upon themselves to create a poisonous atmosphere amongst the crew.

  “Tell me, Crim,” asked Shannon, with mock innocence. “You enjoy this work even though you must do things that you do not want to do?”

  “Why do ye want tae know?” replied the ginger-haired Sergeant.

  “Sergeant Crim, I am making conversation. It is my job. It is part of my remit to get to know the crew better and facilitate a high degree of camaraderie throughout this mission. Therefore, I must ask you some questions in order to carry out my work.”

  Crim sighed. She could do without Shannon’s intrusion. She was busy, the droid was making small talk, yet she knew this was leading somewhere; somewhere she'd no intention of going - and she could also smell Earth-based BS a mile off. “Look Shannon, I dinnae ken whit you’re up tae here, but I hae nae interest in talking to you about ony o’ ma 'feelings',” she said, politely. “I'm sorry.”

  Down the corridor came Hellius.

  As he walked past, he detected Crim’s mood and stopped. “You OK, Sergeant? Any problem here?” he said, looking sternly at Shannon.

  “Och, no, Hellius,” replied Crim. “Just a wee bit ‘o psychological harassment in the workplace. Naething I cannae haundle.”

  Hellius turned to Shannon. “You androids need to keep to yourselves, you know that? You could never, ever understand the feelings that we humans experience on a mission like this. Is your family being watched by TAPCON? No, because you don’t have a family, do you? You're a draining robot!”

  “Yes, Sergeant Hellius. You are correct,” said Soupy, arriving behind them. “We are not like you humans - over-emotional, irrational… stupid.”

  “Why, you shizzing -” fired Hellius, as he leapt for Soupy’s throat.

  “Don't do that, Sergeant,” said Shannon. “You are assaulting an officer of the TAPCON airforce. This will need to be reported to Mr. Sempre, immediately!”

  Crim grabbed Hellius and pulled him off the android. “This isnae the way, Hellius. Leave it!” she exclaimed.

  Hellius released his grip on Soupy's throat. “You just watch yourself, droid. Next time I’ll tear your draining head off!”

  Soupy smiled at him, and said: “The next time, Sergeant, will be your last before your court-martial at the IFS supreme court.” He straightened out his uniform and walked off, following Shannon.

  “Ye OK, Hellius?” asked Crim.

  “Yeah, yeah. No sweat. It’s just these androids… I can’t stand them,” he fumed. “Who invented those robots, Crim? Who was it? I want to go back in time and shoot the shizzing shizz.”

  Crim smiled at her friend. “‘Mon, pal,” she said, looking at her watch. “It’s tea and shortbreid time.”

  Mikita was making her way down to medical. She needed to see Zanthu in order to warn him about Shannon and Soupy, even if it meant the risk of exposing herself.

  When she got there, Zanthu was deep in discussion - a heated discussion - with Dr. Gössner.

  “You mean to tell me that TAPCON poisoned my Spoolu and all the Baal-500 animals? And you have kept it secret from me? But how can this be? I must tell my people straight away. Shannon was right, you are despicable!”

  Zanthu made to leave, then saw Mikita at the door. He looked at her with disgust. “How could you work for people such as this? We Codes have always known TAPCON was evil - how could you, Mikita? How?”

  Zanthu went past her like a storm.

  Mikita looked at Tina, her eyes wide with bewilderment.

  “It would appear that Shannon has been talking to Zanthu about the NITs, Agent Smith.”

  Mikita heart felt like it had been dropped out of an open window.

  “Ah, there you are, Agent Smith,” said Lead-Out, entering the Lab. “We are preparing for your embarkation to Kloq-888. You’ll need to get yourself ready and report to Loading. We arrive in one hour. Hellius will take you to the Froome base in the Argon Rover after we land. That said, it appears we are still trying to contact the Froome for confirmation, but so far we have received no reply. Their equipment is pretty old, so that might be the source of the problem. I’ll let you know, ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Lead-Out. Yes, of course. I’ll be right there.”

  Lead-Out nodded, leaving Mikita with her troubled thoughts. Zanthu would probably never talk to her again. But, then again, 'never' was not going to be for long if she carried on like this - bumbling her way through everything. He didn't know his true fate: the Argon would blow up the Codes' ship, then Shannon and Soupy would kill both him and Spoolu. How could she leave the ship now? Abandon them like this? She needed to do something to allow herself to stay onboard. But what?

  Pretend to be sick?

  That's no use!

  Hold everyone at gunpoint until she got her way?

  Don’t be ridiculous!

  Blow up the androids?

  Madness!

  No, wait…

  It was the androids that were standing between her and revealing her true intentions to the crew. If she could only get to them, somehow. Take them out of the equation. But they were dangerous droids, those two, she wouldn’t stand a chance up against them in a stand up fight, not a hope. But if she could get to them another way. Perhaps cause some sort of malfunction in their systems - that would be a different matter.

  She began to think about what Tamashito had said to her when he’d left the electro-torture room. She was in such agony she couldn’t quite recall... What was it?… something about his hand-held... message me… Had he meant that? She was sure he was a TAPCON type through and through, but maybe that assumption was wrong. He’d apologised to her before they’d started the electrical torture. Then he’d said he was sorry for what he was going to do, and afterwards, made that gesture of assistance. That was not like any TAPCON personnel she’d every heard of.

  It was a slim chance, but it was all she had.

  She
still had her student number - memorised for life, that one. Students needed it to contact teachers for absences, essay extensions and so forth, and Tamashito always carried his meta-file around with him and replied quickly. He was very diligent that way.

  But Mikita had no meta-file with her. It was confiscated by TAPCON when she was arrested. She couldn't very well use the TAPCON hand-held in her briefcase, that would be suicide. How could she contact Tamashito from here - so far out in deep space?

  “Do you think they would really kill our families, Lead-Out?” said New Boy.

  “Yes, I do. I certainly do,” she began. “Sempre is ruthless, and he likes to play these kind of mind games with his staff.”

  The two of them were sorting through the Argon Rover’s deployment equipment in the Store Room.

  “And are we really gonna blast the Codes?” added the Private.

  “We have to, Sawchuck. We have to follow orders.”

  “Even if we know it’s wrong?”

  “Yes,” said Lead-Out. “Even if it’s wrong.”

  “Lead-Out, when you joined TAPCON did you think that it was… bad? That Sempre was a corrupt man? I mean, the advertising makes him out to be so nice.”

  “No, I was just signing up to do my bit. I wanted to be on starships and fly around in space. Same as you probably?

  “Yeah. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

  “Well, I think everybody who enters into the forces does it for the same reasons. Firstly, to serve your country. Then, to see the universe. And gradually, over time, you do it for the love of the job, the satisfaction it offers. Knowing that you’re looking after the people you love; your own nation. That’s exciting. I mean, look at me. I got my leg blown off, but I can't wait to get back to active service. It’s where I feel most like myself. I bet you’re the same, huh?”

  “Yeah, Lead-Out, definitely. But sometimes I think, maybe I made the wrong choice.”

  The Corporal smiled. “I think you got unlucky with this as your first Mission, that’s all.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you're right. Hey, thanks, Lead-Out.”

  “Ah, what a touching display of affection,” said Soupy, from the Storeroom doorway.

  “What do you want, droid?” Lead-Out said, with more edge than a newly-sharpened blade.

  “Nothing, Corporal. I’m just checking that the equipment is ready for Miss Smith’s departure to the Froome basecamp.”

  “There's no need for you to check. It's all in order.”

  “But that is my job, Miss Lee. To make sure this mission runs smoothly. To make sure that you finish the job correctly. There is no room for error amongst the crew, as I’m sure you can imagine. You should be pleased that I am here to help you.” Soupy smiled.

  Lead-Out said nothing.

  “I shall return in 10 minutes to consider your work, Corporal Lee.”

  Soupy turned and left.

  “I hate him… It!” said Lead-Out. She looked at New-Boy. He seemed lost in thought. “Hey, let’s try Kloq-888 again, eh?”

  …

  “Private Sawchuck?”

  “Oh! Yes, ma’am?”

  “Kloq-888? Let’s go, Private!”

  New-Boy moved to the Storeroom console where he started up the link to the Froome base. They waited for the signal to click through.

  …

  No response.

  He tried again.

  …

  No dice.

  “They’re not receiving us, ma’am. There seems to be no one there. Their equipment seems to be OK. There’s just no reply. Nothing but space-lint.”

  “I’ll radio up to the bridge,” said Lead-Out, getting on the C-system.

  The reply was quick.

  “Captain Jameson? This is Corporal Lee. We’ve had no confirmation from the Kloq-888 basecamp. All systems are running normally. We request orders, sir.”

  “Thank you, Corporal. We’ve received nothing from Muhaze about this, either. I think that we should hang on to Agent Smith for the time being. But keep trying. Her ETA was 18:30, correct?

  “That’s correct, sir.”

  Jameson checked the clock on the bridge: 18:03. “Well, I have a feeling she will be with us for a little while longer, Corporal.” Jameson didn't show it, but he was very pleased about that.

  Gadget was at his station working on some data (but also playing a game of 4D chess while he did it) when Mikita arrived at the Loading Bay.

  “Ah, Corporal Gadget,” she began. “Can you get me into the Mu-U 'Student-2-Teacher' system? I need to send an urgent message to a Dr. Harry Tamashito.”

  Gadget looked at Mikita in surprise. “Oh? Is your TAPCON hand-held broken, Agent Smith? I can fix it for you, if you want me to?”

  “No, no. It’s working fine, Corporal. Just fine.”

  Gadget studied her for a moment. He knew inexperience when he saw it, and he knew bluff even better. “Hmmmm. So are you asking me to hack into the Mu-U system, Mikita? Or are you ordering me, ma’am?”

  She understood what Gadget was inferring. “I’m asking you, Gadget.”

  He moved his pawn to 'B4 on a Tuesday' and replied: “You got a password?” he said, flexing his fingers.

  Mikita smiled. “Yes. How long will it take?”

  “Oooooh, ages,” he replied. But Gadget’s grin got wider as he plonked himself down in front of the screen. “About 16 seconds, I’d say. I’m a bit rusty.” He winked at Mikita.

  Gadget began to type some code into the console and soon the Mu-U site was up and they were into the programme. “OK, we’re in. ‘Mi-ki-ta Sm-ith’ (he said, as he typed). Password?”

  “8925494MS”

  “Got it. Sending a message to ‘Dr. Harry Tamashito’. Good. What’s the message?”

  “On Argon. Please dismantle all android functions. Urgent. M.”

  Gadget looked at Mikita and smiled. “You work quickly, ‘Agent’ Smith. Any hugs or kisses with that?”

  “No, Gadget. Just do it.”

  Gadget sent the message.

  Mikita could not contain herself, she pumped her fist in the air: “Yes! Thank you, Gadget. You’re a hero.”

  “Yep, I am rather, aren’t I,” he replied, with no lack of self-irony.

  Mikita began to wait for a reply.

  …

  Nothing came back.

  …

  A minute went past.

  …

  C’mon, Tamashito!

  …

  Nothing.

  Chapter 28

  17:22 - Monday, July 30, 2187 (nr. Kloq-888)

  It would be easy to say that Jon-7 was no longer interested in Mikita Smith, but this was not strictly true. He'd simply forgotten about her, as his own problems mounted up with his posse of degenerates. But, to his credit, he did know that this was a ‘do-or-die’ moment in his leadership.

  And these problems had only served to make Jon-7 mad. And not just mad in the ‘mad = crazy’ sense of the word. He was also angry. Angry at Sempre, angry at Budgie and angry at the rest of the Froome. In fact, he was angry at just about everybody he knew. And his anger had made him choose to deal with his problems in the only way he knew how - with the use of extreme violence. Jon-7 had decided to attack Muhaze ‘properly’, and the Froome were already on their way to Tapi-36.

  Earlier that day he'd summoned all 42 members of the Froome for a meeting - which was never a good idea. The Froome were a noisy bunch when they all got together. They were a noisy bunch even when they didn't get together, and now they were busy making farting noises and mixing in swear words with fake coughs, when Jon-7 got up to address them.

  Their rambunctiousness made him uneasy. He thought their dissatisfaction with him could spill over at any moment.

  “Ok, dears, settle down, settle down!” he shouted, over top of the noise. “C’mon, listen up! This is the plan!” He’d got their attention, at last. “We attack Muhaze tomorrow at 12:00. We’ll fly in a Q formation of 21 V-wings and use the camouflage dist
ortion devices. This will help us get into the Tapi-36 airspace undetected.”

  “But that’s not going to work, Mr. 7. That system is far too old for TAPCON,” said Grisshum, one of the more vociferous dissenters amongst the faction. “They’ll see right through us… Ha! If only they would!” Grisshum laughed at his accidental witticism.

  “Look,” continued the Froome leader. “Sempre thinks that we’re waiting for the envoy to arrive here at noon, they won’t be expecting us to be coming for them. We’ll have the element of surprise. And if it’s not working out, then we’ll tell them that we’re in for maintenance at the airbase. It is about time for our annual MOT. That will work for sure.”

  “Humpf,” said Grisshum.

  Jon-7 carried on more confidently now. “So, first we take out the airbase, then we take out the TAPCON buildings. But we leave the Towers. I want that for my… sorry, luvvies… our headquarters.”

  The Froome grew very restless at this idea. What? A real, proper bit of terrorism?

  “Hang on there, 7. Do you mean actually ‘take them out’ take them out?” asked Bardroola, Grisshum’s girlfriend. “But we don’t usually do that. What’s going on? What are you not telling us?”

  A generous smattering of consternation spread throughout the Froome cabal.

  Jon-7 was going for it. “I’ve had it with Sempre!” he said, emphatically. “We’re going to leave him begging for mercy!”

  “You’re going to leave him begging for a city, if you’re not careful!” shouted Lapwing, Bardroola’s mate.

  “And us for jobs!” rejoined Grisshum.

  “Yeah, he’s right! If we bomb the shizzers, then who’s going to pay our wages?” said Turnstile McPheeters, the Froome’s chef.

  “Yeah, I mean, you’re not really gonna to do it ‘properly’, are you?” chimed in Lance Flaatu, a big bloke.

  “I quite like things the way they are!” said Baloney Tyre, a hopeless old git.