Dark Sky (Keiko)

by Mike Brooks

  Any city on any planet would have comms glitches at times when wires broke, or a relay faulted, or a satellite’s circuitry was fried by an electromagnetic surge from a solar flare. People understood these things, but half of a city simply dropping off the communications map? Drift guessed that there’d been no official announcement about why this was, because what government would announce that half of its capital city had erupted in bloody revolution? The fear of the other half joining it would be too great.

  However, as time marched on, whispers would start flying – not over the comms, which might be monitored, but out on the street with neighbours – and people would surely begin to guess that this was more than just a technical fault. The powers that be would look either incompetent or scared, or both. He didn’t know how long it would be until reinforcements from other cities or from elsewhere in the system arrived, but the storm raging above would surely shut them out for at least a couple more days. If the revolution gained enough momentum, if it could bubble up beyond the lowest, poorest sectors where it had fermented …

  His train of thought was cut off by his comm buzzing. To his surprise and great relief, he recognised it as Rourke.

  ‘Hello?!’

  +Ichabod, where the hell are you?+

  ‘Where the hell am I? Where the hell are you?’ He frowned, realising there was only one explanation for how this call was even possible. ‘Have you got out of Level Five too?’

  +No, of course not, we’re … wait, are you saying you have got out?+

  ‘Yes, I’m with the Changs and the Shirokovs on Level Four. But if you’re still on Level Five …’ He looked around at the politsiya station, but he knew full well there’d been no mass mobilisation of force to take the lower levels back. It was impossible, but he still had to ask the question. ‘Has the government opened the comm channels again, then?’

  +No, the revolution’s taken control of a broadcast hub here and … well, someone’s managed to remove the block on communications.+

  Drift looked around. Here and there on the street he could see surges of activity, and groups of people clustering around someone avidly listening to a comm. Word about what had happened below was spreading already, to friends, to relatives. He could imagine the message leaking out: We’re fine, there’s been no catastrophe, but everything’s changed …

  His brain belatedly latched onto the momentary catch in Rourke’s speech, a sign that she’d changed what she’d been about to say at the last moment, and his gut clenched in alarmed response. If Rourke was close enough to know that the revolution had taken a broadcast hub then that was either one hell of a coincidence, or … ‘What do you mean, “someone” managed to remove the block on communications?’

  +It looks like the revolution managed to find a slicer from somewhere.+

  Drift closed his eyes for a moment and groaned. Of all the … At least Jenna was still alive, if he was interpreting Rourke’s words correctly, but even that piece of happy news was scant comfort.

  +Ichabod?+

  He gritted his teeth and looked around quickly to make sure no one was close enough to overhear him. It was just as well that no one was: he might have burst if he’d had to hold the words in.

  ‘I nearly got shot in a bar!’ he hissed. ‘I did get shot in the street, and my damn armavest is the only reason I didn’t take a bullet in the spine and lose control of everything below my waist! I got taken into protective custody by Alim Muradov and then the fucking police vehicle I’m travelling in gets blown up by some goddamned booby trap, and I have to fight my way out! All of those things were done by the rioters, and you are fucking helping them?!’

  +What … why are you in protective custody?+

  He sighed, trying to calm himself a little. ‘It seems that someone matching my description might have been caught up in a clash between rioters and officers of the law, and ended up helping the cops get away before they were killed. Chief Muradov decided that it was safer not to leave us to fend for ourselves on the streets.’

  +Someone matching your …+ Rourke trailed off. She knew full well how long the odds were that there could be another rangy, blue-haired Mexican in Uragan City. +Motherless son of a flyblown whore.+

  Drift blinked. ‘I beg your—’

  +Not you, Ichabod. I was just … thinking out loud. But of all the times you could choose to help out the law, why did it have to be this one?+

  ‘Because Muradov’s actually competent and I figured he’d get the situation under control quickly!’ Drift snapped. ‘What the hell are you doing throwing in with the rebels, anyway? GIA instincts too hard to break?’

  +Oh, piss off! I stumbled into a meeting between them and Moutinho, and they were going to kill me! I gave them some useful tips, then figured I could use them to help find the half of my crew who’d been out getting drunk when this all kicked off. I never thought you’d have actually defended the politsiya instead of keeping your head down in a bar somewhere.+

  ‘The bar was full of choke gas because some of your new friends had just opened fire on the cops!’ Drift protested angrily. A couple of faces were starting to turn towards him, and he fought to moderate the tone of his voice. Arguing over the comm wouldn’t help, in any case: they needed a solution, not a quarrel. ‘Look, I don’t suppose there’s any chance you can get out of there?’

  +Surely you’ve seen that we’re blockaded in down here? Even if you could fast-talk us a way through the checkpoints from your side, there’s no way the revolution are going to be letting us leave. We can’t sneak out, either: A.’s broken his ankle, so he’s on crutches.+

  Drift bit back a curse. ‘Well, there’s no way we can get to you, even if there weren’t people who might want to shoot me on sight. Muradov seems to actually trust me now, but that will last as long as spit on an afterburner if we try to get into revolution territory.’

  +Damn it.+ There was a brief pause. +I suppose you should know now, and if you make any sort of joke about this then I will shoot you when I next see you …+

  Drift frowned. ‘Go on.’

  +I’ve called a truce with Moutinho. We were both missing crew members and we agreed to help each other find them.+ Her voice lowered until it was almost inaudible. +I don’t trust these Uragans. Their revolution’s nothing to do with us, and I want as much help as I can gather when someone decides to play ‘get the off-worlder’.+

  Drift considered this, then nodded grudgingly. He couldn’t stand Moutinho, but he had at least some trust in the Brazilian’s self-interest. ‘I can’t fault you, I just hope the bastard realises it’s his best option and doesn’t try sticking the knife in at some point.’

  +Well, he’s unlikely to try to sell the revolution out to the law. It turns out he was the one running guns into here, and now everything’s kicked off he’s kind of tied to them.+

  Drift snorted a humourless laugh. ‘So he was double-bluffing with that tip-off, the cheeky bastard. I figured so.’ He looked back at the station again. ‘There’s two of his here, actually. They flagged us down to try to find out what was going on and Muradov pulled them along. They’re the only two who wanted anything to do with the cops other than shoot at them, or blow them up.’

  +There’s only two he’s looking for, so that must be them. At least I can tell him we know where they are.+

  ‘Hooray,’ Drift grunted, ‘we can all be one big happy family. Assuming we can ever find a way to meet up.’

  +Ichabod, this revolution isn’t going to stop here,+ Rourke said, and now her voice held a tone of warning. +They know they have to take the entire city: it’s all or nothing. The longer you stay with Muradov, the more eventual danger you’ll be in. Get clear of him and get to the starport. We’ll find you there, if we can.+

  ‘He’s not going to be the easiest person in the world to give the slip to,’ Drift replied doubtfully, ‘but I’ll see what I can do.’

  +Well, he might be too busy to pay much attention to you soon.+

  ‘Why do you—�
� Drift cut himself off as there was a sudden upswing in activity from the knots of people he could see. They were no longer crowding around people on comms, now they seemed to be focused on anyone who had a pad out, clustering around and watching … something. ‘Okay, that’s strange.’

  +The broadcast’s started.+ The background noise filtering through from Rourke’s end of the comm suddenly increased. +I have to go.+ She didn’t wait for a reply: there was simply the click of a terminated call in his ear. Moments later, however, his comm buzzed again. This time, he was surprised to see that it was Kuai.

  ‘Go ahead.’

  +Captain, you need to see this. We’re in the canteen.+

  Drift turned and headed back for the station. The two officers stationed on the doors were eyeing the street with a mix of confusion and burgeoning uneasiness, but they knew Drift had arrived with the city’s security chief so he was able to re-enter the building without any issues.

  ‘What am I missing?’ he asked the mechanic as he was buzzed through into an area which would normally be for officers only. Truth to tell, Drift wasn’t sure how happy Muradov would be if he learned that Drift had been coming and going at will, but the old ‘hive mentality’ trick seemed to be working again: once you were inside somewhere, everyone generally assumed that you had a reason to be there and decided it was someone else’s job to challenge you.

  +Uhh … the revolution has been holovised?+

  BROADCASTING

  KUAI WAS TIRED, and irritable, and possibly a little scared. Coffee was only really helping with one of those.

  The police canteen was a fairly grim and soulless affair, and reminded him why he didn’t like being off-ship. The Keiko wasn’t huge and the Jonah was significantly smaller, but that didn’t trouble him in the slightest. He had his own space and he could put his own imprint on it: not just in his cabins on the respective vessels, but in the engine rooms where he spent so much time. Everything was in its right place, and that place was the one that he had designated, and there was room for his own individual touches to make it all feel homely. He felt like an outsider here. Besides, you only had to walk into this canteen and look around to realise that no one lived here and no one loved it.

  Jia was sitting on his right, either arguing or flirting with one of the officers they’d ridden in with, or possibly both. The Captain had once suggested that Jia constantly picking fault with him was simply her way of showing affection, but Kuai knew better. It was actually her way of showing that she was an obnoxious little brat, to the point of always trying to ensure that any men in the vicinity were concentrating on her, not him. Still, she was an obnoxious little brat whom he’d promised their parents he’d look after, and he kept his promises. Even when they took him to the far side of the galaxy and deep into the crust of a backwater mining planet where someone had apparently stirred up a revolution.

  Kuai had grown up in downtown Chengdu on Old Earth, in the middle of a conurbation stretching for tens of miles all the way to the foothills of the Hengduan Mountains, and the grip of the Red Star Confederate’s government there was an invisible omnipresence in the same vein as gravity. The notion of any meaningful action being taken against the state was laughable: you would get the occasional political rally or outspoken commentator, but even they were looking to change things in line with the existing order. The notion of simply saying ‘we don’t want this anymore’ and dumping the entire system was a fanciful dream, and a dream that most people wouldn’t want. The uncertainty, the insecurity, the very real possibility that the government would just march in and take everything back anyway … how did that appeal? Jia had been the one to rail against the rules, the regulations, and even the confining walls of their parents’ apartment. Kuai would have been happy to stay on the planet that had birthed humanity and get a job in a repair shop, or similar.

  But, as always, his sister had gone and got in trouble, and in trying to protect her he’d ended up well outside his comfort zone. Sometimes he was grateful to the Captain and Rourke for bailing Jia out when she’d got herself arrested, sometimes he was still mad that they’d persuaded her to jump that same bail and fly them around the Milky Way from then on. He supposed he was just lucky they’d needed a mechanic at the same time, as otherwise he’d have had to face his parents and admit that he’d let his little sister down.

  There was a holoscreen making up one wall of the canteen, displaying whatever inane chatter served as entertainment for Uragan. He already knew it would either be fanciful escapism or one of the peculiarly dour Russian soap operas his mother was inexplicably fond of: ‘workers or wizards’, his father had dubbed it once. Kuai understood enough about how society worked to know that this sort of place, with its grim drudgery and lack of prospects, wouldn’t be one where the government would want people to get ideas above their station. Of course, they seemed to be capable of getting those on their own anyway …

  He became aware of a change in the atmosphere of the room, and that the heads of the few officers who’d been relieved of duties for long enough to grab a snack were all turning to face the holoscreen. Someone turned the volume up a moment later, and the voice of a dark-haired woman was suddenly to the fore.

  ‘… you can see behind me, the revolutionaries are in effective control of Levels Five and below of Uragan City.’ She was facing into the camera and speaking into a branded microphone, neither of which were necessary for reporting but which even now were still used to communicate the urgency and immediacy of A Person At The Location. ‘This of course gives them control of the main mine face and the raw materials it produces, which they have stated belong to every Uragan citizen equally and will no longer be sold off with the profits going to the gov … the Red Star government.’

  Officers were looking at each other in confusion. Voices were raised, first in protest and then, as men and women in uniforms and visors just like their own appeared in shot, walking under a Free Systems banner behind the reporter, in anger.

  ‘… of the police force resisted, but many have embraced the revolution’s aims and have declared themselves ready to serve this new state. As you can see behind me, the—’

  Kuai grimaced and, in what he suspected was a probably futile attempt to glean good fortune, touched the dragon pendant his mother had given him. He’d been hoping this whole mess could be sorted out and put down with the minimum of fuss and trouble, but that suddenly looked a whole lot less likely. It wasn’t even that he had any form of loyalty to Red Star rule, he just hated it when things were unpredictable, and there was little that was more unpredictable than an enclosed city in the grip of a determined and apparently expanding revolution. He fell back on one of his old adages: if things looked bad, make it someone else’s problem. He activated his comm and entered the Captain’s callcode.

  +Go ahead.+

  ‘Captain, you need to see this,’ he said. ‘We’re in the canteen.’

  There was a brief pause, although the faint noises of breathing and echoing footsteps from the other end of the line suggested that Drift was on the move. Then the Captain’s voice came again. +What am I missing?+

  Kuai debated briefly how to get over exactly what he was watching, and gave it up. English was reportedly a very versatile language in the right hands, but he still hadn’t mastered it fully. ‘Uhh … the revolution has been holovised?’

  The canteen door banged open and the Captain strode in, ignoring the glances he got from the officers who didn’t know him and exchanging a couple of nods with the members of Muradov’s team who looked around. Kuai had got the impression that the Captain had actually acquitted himself well in the immediate aftermath of the transport he’d been riding in being overturned by a revolutionary booby trap, and that the officers had taken something of a liking to him as a result. Even Muradov seemed to trust him now, which in Kuai’s opinion just demonstrated that the man wasn’t nearly as smart as he should be.

  ‘Well,’ the Captain said, sliding onto the bench between Kuai
and Jia and looking up at the screen, ‘this really is a clusterfuck of epic proportions. The revolution’s gained enough of a foothold that they’ve co-opted the governmental broadcast units. Besides which, I’ve just found out that they’ve managed to lift the comm blockade too: Tamara called me a moment ago.’

  ‘Seriously?!’ Jia put in from the Captain’s other side. ‘They all alright?’

  Drift grimaced. ‘Depends how you look at it. It sounds like they got separated for a bit, and A.’s broken his ankle somehow, but him and Jenna are with Tamara now.’ He lowered his voice a little. ‘They also seem to have called a truce with Moutinho’s mob. Where are his two goons?’

  ‘Over there.’ Kuai pointed to the far corner where Karwoski and Goldberg sat. He presumed that neither of them spoke good Russian as they’d not interacted with anyone or even looked at the holoscreen, but the woman was now talking urgently into her comm. Presumably Moutinho was on the other end, giving her the same information which Rourke had just passed to the Captain.

  ‘Keep an eye on them,’ Drift warned, speaking even more quietly so Kuai and Jia had to lean in to hear him properly. Thankfully, the officers in the room were still transfixed by the pictures on the holoscreen. ‘They were the gunrunners, Tamara’s confirmed that, but we’ve got a bit of a problem ourselves. It sounds like the revolution have found themselves a very good slicer, and she’s been involved with lifting the communications blackout.’

  ‘His mother’s dick,’ Jia swore in Mandarin, immediately realising Drift was referring to Jenna. She switched back to English. ‘So, she been coerced then?’

  ‘It sounds like Tamara had to make herself useful to avoid being killed, and that meant dragging Jenna in as well. I don’t think they’ll just be slipping quietly away from anything any time soon, that’s for sure.’