Dark Sky (Keiko)

by Mike Brooks

  ‘I don’t think so,’ the youth replied, his voice level.

  ‘See, that’s where you’re wrong,’ Apirana said firmly, ‘cos right now I’m tired, and I’m angry, and my foot’s hurtin’ me and I probably ain’t thinkin’ too rationally, but if you don’t point that someplace else then as the gods are my witnesses I will shove my hand so far up your nono I’ll be able to use you as a fucking hand puppet!’

  Achilles took half a step back instinctively in the face of the big man’s sudden bellow, but kept his gun steady.

  ‘Okay!’ Jenna shouted. ‘Everyone calm down!’

  All faces turned to her.

  ‘Hear that, big man?’ Moutinho said, although his gun covering Rourke didn’t waver. ‘Your slicer’s got the right idea.’

  Oh, I do.

  ‘Ricardo fucking Moutinho,’ Jenna spat at him, pulling back the right sleeve of her jumpsuit to reveal the heavy metal bracelet encasing most of her forearm, ‘do you know what this is?’

  The politsiya helmet tilted slightly. ‘Should I?’

  ‘Probably not, because you don’t have a master’s degree in electronic engineering and circuit systems from one of the best damn universities in the galaxy,’ Jenna told him coldly. ‘This is a person-portable electromagnetic pulse generator: an EMP, as you might know it. And while you were all concentrating on Rourke and Apirana, I’ve been entering the detonation sequence so that all that’s required now is for me to press one more button.’ She rested her left forefinger lightly on a red button near the centre of it.

  ‘Jenna …’ Rourke said, a tone of alarm audible in her voice, even through the pounding of Jenna’s heartbeat in her own ears.

  ‘Sounds impressive,’ Moutinho conceded, ‘but I ain’t a robot, and neither are my boys. So why should I care if that thing goes off?’

  ‘Because I reckon I’m close enough to knock out the main systems governing this spaceport,’ Jenna said, keeping her hand steady with an effort of will. She did not want her finger to slip. ‘I don’t trust for one second that you’ll actually take us to our ship if Rourke hands over her gun: I think that’s just a ruse so you can kill us all anyway with no risk. So you tell Achilles to put his gun away, and you stop pointing that at Rourke, and tell Jack to stop trying to creep up behind me—’

  Rourke gave a very slight nod.

  ‘—or I make sure that you’re not getting off this planet without someone rewiring and rebooting the entire fucking system. Are we clear?’

  There was a pause. Jenna resisted the temptation to look over her shoulder, but did turn her head ever so slightly sideways to try to keep Jack’s dark shape in her peripheral vision. ‘I said, are we clear?’

  Rourke shifted position. It was meant to look like nothing more than uncomfortable shuffling, but Jenna had taken enough lessons with the former GIA agent to recognise the signs. Getting her feet slightly more side-on, changing the angle of her arms slightly … She wouldn’t be able to bring her rifle around to shoot at Moutinho without him reacting first, but from that position she’d be able to strike him with a reverse elbow and maybe disorientate him for long enough to get into a firing position.

  ‘Achilles?’ Moutinho said. Jenna readied herself to press the button. Damn it if she wouldn’t trap them here …

  ‘Boss?’

  ‘If the Maori tries to grab you, you can shoot him. Otherwise, put the gun down.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Do it.’ Moutinho cautiously shifted his own aim by a few degrees, taking Rourke out of his line of fire. ‘That girl is too smart for our own good. We do this their way.’

  Very slowly, Achilles lowered the barrel of his gun until it was pointing at the platform just in front of Apirana’s feet. The big man nodded, very slightly.

  ‘Good call, bro.’

  ‘Let’s get moving,’ Jenna said, trying to prevent herself from collapsing in the wake of the sudden exhaustion that washed over her and left her feeling decidedly wobbly. ‘I’m not taking my finger off this button until we get to where we’re going, and the longer that takes the more likely it is that I fuck up and trap us all here.’

  ‘Fine,’ Moutinho replied, his voice now clipped and brisk. Once again, the Brazilian seemed to have shunted his feelings away and was all business. ‘Big man, you’re on point with me. We go at your best pace.’

  ‘You got it,’ Apirana rumbled, turning his back on Achilles and moving across the platform with surprising rapidity. Jenna saw the new sweat staining his top and wondered how long he could keep it up. He has to. And he will, I’m sure he will.

  Moutinho fell in beside the big Maori, gun held crossways and helmet turning from side to side, for all the world as though he genuinely was a bodyguard. Jenna followed the pair of them with an uneasy glance at Jack and the heavy knife in his belt, and wondered how close she’d come to having him open her throat with it from behind. The Jacare’s pilot struck her as the one she’d trust most out of the trio, but she had little doubt that he’d kill her if he needed to.

  ‘Thank you,’ Rourke muttered, falling in alongside her. The older woman’s expression was grim. ‘I got sloppy. Could have screwed it up for all of us.’

  ‘No one can stay one jump ahead of everyone all the time,’ Jenna whispered encouragingly. ‘You’ve been carrying the ball for the last twelve hours straight. You drop it, I pick it up.’

  ‘Is that thing actually armed?’ Rourke asked, nodding at her forearm.

  ‘Sure is.’

  ‘Well … try not to trip over or anything, I guess.’

  They rode up the escalators in uncomfortable silence, with Jack and Achilles behind them. Jenna hadn’t liked the idea of having their backs exposed, despite her threat, and Rourke apparently shared that view as she rode it backwards to keep their ‘escort’ in view. Jenna nudged her at the top to warn her and the older woman took a calm step backwards onto stationary ground without missing a beat.

  ‘Okay, I’m starting to get a bad feeling about this,’ Moutinho said, looking around. They were in the long concourse that ran down to the customs and immigration suites, and short of some graffiti on one wall which Jenna didn’t recall from before, they were entirely alone. ‘Where the hell is everyone?’

  ‘I don’t want to come across as reckless,’ Rourke replied dryly, ‘but does it matter? We need to go that way anyway.’ She gestured with the Crusader’s barrel in the direction of the docking bays. ‘I don’t see how anyone could know we’re coming, even if we’re worth the trouble of setting a trap. Let’s just push on before someone does show up.’

  ‘Eh, I guess it’s not like we have a choice,’ Moutinho rasped. ‘Fine. Stay close and watch your backs.’

  Jenna managed to suppress a laugh. Way ahead of you there, at least if your boys are standing behind me …

  No one else came up the escalators from the other tram platforms, but Jenna doubted that anyone else had stolen a tram and ridden it to the spaceport. When the Keiko’s crew had come this way before, the hallway had been busy: not necessarily rammed tight with people, but enough that you couldn’t walk in a straight line from where you were to where you wanted to go. Now it was empty, save for the holographic displays on the walls, which were still (probably) welcoming people to Uragan City and reminding them of local laws and the like, and the vending machines selling their ubiquitous products. Governmental boundaries might restrict the movements of currencies, people and even ideas, but Star Cola got everywhere.

  ‘What do you think happened to the security?’ Rourke asked Moutinho as they advanced cautiously towards where the corridor ended and opened onto the immigration gates, another long hall which ran at right angles. ‘There was enough of them.’ Jenna had noticed that when talking about their surroundings or methods, Rourke appeared to value the Brazilian’s input. It was only when any conversation shifted to themselves or their crews that they clashed.

  ‘Less than you might think,’ Moutinho replied, ‘which is just as well, given how often we had
to bribe the greedy little bastards.’

  ‘I had wondered how you’d smuggled the guns in,’ Rourke commented, her tone neutral. ‘Not many places for a surreptitious landing on this rock.’

  ‘Nah, just good old-fashioned palm-greasing,’ Moutinho laughed. ‘You know how it is: there’s always someone coming up to retirement and doesn’t give a shit anymore, or who likes the cards more than the cards like him. The trick’s working out who it is and what their price is.’

  They were starting to cluster close to the near wall, eager to stay out of sight of the immigration hall for as long as possible. Apirana was hanging back now and Rourke ghosted forwards until she was at the corner, then removed her hat and cautiously peered around it. Jenna stared at the back of her head, waiting for a shout, a gunshot …

  Rourke resettled the hat on her head and stepped out. ‘Clear.’

  ‘You certain ’bout that?’ Jack spoke up from the rear.

  ‘I’m standing out here, aren’t I?’ Rourke demanded, turning back to him. She turned away sharply and disappeared out of view, but not before Jenna had caught the beginnings of a yawn on the other woman’s face. She nearly glanced at the Jacare crew to see if they’d noticed, before remembering that she wouldn’t be able to tell behind their helmets anyway. Plus, Rourke’s not the one they need to be wary of now, it’s me.

  No pressure.

  They followed her out into a long hangar of white surfaces, blinking digital signs, blocky seats with uncomfortable-looking upholstery, and turnstiles with accompanying security cubicles. And no people, anywhere, although the smashed glass here and there and occasional bullet hole gave at least a partial explanation for that.

  ‘Yeah, I’m not seeing them being ones to stand against the revolution,’ Moutinho admitted, his helmet apparently taking in yet another yellow-and-black smear of paint down one wall. ‘Too much effort for too little reward.’

  ‘So where’s everyone else?’ Jack asked. ‘Why aren’t they all trying to get out of here?’

  ‘Because everyone knows there’s still a storm going on up there,’ Rourke pointed out, lifting one finger towards the ceiling. ‘Also, all the off-worlder accommodation’s several levels down, remember? Odds are most people couldn’t even get here, and wouldn’t want to try until things have settled down one way or the other.’ She looked at Moutinho as though weighing something up. ‘This might be easier than I thought. If no one even knows we’re here we could just sit tight on the ships until the storm blows over. Once the comms system comes back online we can contact the others, find out where they are and build a plan from there.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ the Jacare’s captain replied. ‘Let’s just make sure we haven’t got any nasty surprises waiting for us first.’

  The turnstiles were the only real obstacle they encountered. The rest of them could vault over (or crawl underneath with one finger hovering near her EMP generator, in Jenna’s case), but Apirana found it more of a struggle. After that it was simply a case of getting on the moving walkway and waiting until they reached the airlock into Grazhdansky Dok 2.

  Which was locked.

  ‘Puta merda!’ Moutinho swore, jabbing at the release button. ‘Look at the readout! Goddamn air’s fine inside, so why won’t it open?’

  ‘Move over,’ Jenna told him, then abruptly remembered exactly why she’d been holding one finger in place over her right forearm for the last few minutes. ‘Damn.’

  ‘Pity’s sake girl, you ain’t causing us any trouble now,’ Jack protested, ‘we’ve got no excuses to make for you, no stories to come up with about you, we just want to get in there like you do.’ The pilot slung his rifle across his back and folded his arms. ‘See?’

  Jenna looked at Rourke, who shrugged, then at Moutinho and Achilles. Both of them reluctantly shouldered their weapons.

  ‘Isn’t that more polite?’ Jenna murmured, and switched the position of her hands so she could access her wrist console. She fired up the translation protocol and squinted at the screen as the Cyrillic script was rendered into the Latin alphabet. ‘Yeah, here we go. It’s on a standard emergency lockdown. Shouldn’t take a moment to …’

  The airlock began to grind open, showing the dimly lit hanger beyond.

  ‘… override,’ she finished happily.

  ‘I’ll give you this, kid,’ Moutinho said, pulling the helmet from his head and looking at her with eyes which she was sure contained grudging respect, ‘you’re good at what you do. And you’re no coward, either.’

  ‘Ricardo,’ Rourke said warningly.

  ‘What?’ Moutinho protested, his face all innocence. He looked back at Jenna. ‘You fall out with these clowns for any reason and you need a job, you come looking for me, you hear? I know we might seem a bit rough—’

  Apirana let out a snort.

  ‘—but we’re just direct,’ Moutinho finished, giving the Maori a glare. ‘With someone like you on board to ease things along, maybe we wouldn’t need to be. Reckon you could help a lot with ghosting in and out of places. Maybe keep a few more people alive.’ He winked at Rourke as he replaced his helmet, and now his eyes held nothing but ugly humour. ‘Until the next time, Tamara. Come on boys, let’s see if the baby gator’s array can boost our comms any.’

  The trio of Jacare crewmen sauntered through the airlock and away across the hangar bay floor towards the sleek, predatory lines of their shuttle, apparently unconcerned about any risk from behind them. Rourke followed them through, eyeing their backs warily, then turned back to Jenna and Apirana. ‘Let’s get onto the Jonah.’

  ‘Sounds good t’me,’ Apirana grunted, putting his crutches to work once more and heading off towards the squat shape of their trusty shuttle. Jenna came last, closing the airlock behind them and finally deactivating her EMP. The walk to the Jonah’s ramp seemed to her to take longer than it should, and her shoulders were itching the whole way. She didn’t trust Moutinho or his men not to take a potshot out of spite, despite the fact that Rourke kept checking on them, but finally the three of them stood beneath the Jonah’s blocky nose. She activated the shuttle’s systems from her wrist console and called the entrance ramp down, sending warm, welcoming light spilling over them in contrast to the shadows of the bay.

  ‘Tell you this, I ain’t never gonna call this girl a rat trap again,’ Apirana commented, although he eyed the ramp’s incline dubiously. ‘Ah man, this is gonna hurt.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Jenna said encouragingly, putting one hand on his shoulder. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  As it was, after the first couple of steps Apirana threw his crutches into the shuttle and simply went up the ramp in a sort of three-legged crawl, his injured foot held up out of the way. Jenna followed, trying not to laugh at him no matter how odd he looked, while Rourke brought up the rear. Once at the top she called the ramp up again and collected Apirana’s crutches for him, then breathed a final sigh of relief.

  Then she became aware of Rourke sliding down the wall.

  ‘Whoa!’ Panic gripped her and she reached out to catch the older woman, abruptly becoming aware of exactly how light she was. ‘Tamara?!’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Rourke muttered, setting her gun down on the deck with a clank. ‘I’m just so damn tired … I’m getting too old to stay up all night organising revolutions.’

  Jenna tried to laugh, although in truth she was more shaken up than she wanted to show. Rourke was made of steel: always had been, always would be, so far as Jenna had been concerned. She might look tired, might talk about dropping the ball, but there was no way that she could actually burn out, right?

  ‘Let’s get you two to your cabins,’ she suggested, looking between them, ‘you can both get some—’

  There was a deep thud on the sort of scale of a leviathan clearing its throat, and the Jonah actually seemed to shake a little.

  ‘—rest,’ Jenna finished uncertainly. How loud did something have to be for them to be able to hear it inside an airtight spacecraft, for crying out
loud?

  ‘Bridge,’ Rourke gasped, trying to lever herself to her feet. ‘Go, I’ll catch up!’

  Jenna got to her feet and ran, clattering up the steel steps at the side of the cargo bay and hammering at the release on the airlock at the top until it opened. She flew down the short corridor that led to the bridge, slapped the release for its door and was through before it was halfway open, just in time to feel another thud which seemed to reverberate through her bones. The cockpit’s viewports gave her a little over a 180 degree arc of vision, and she craned around to see what was going on. The hangar bay seemed lighter than it had before …

  Her mouth fell open in genuine shock as she saw the Pouco Jacare hovering on thrusters, its nose angled upwards roughly forty-five degrees to the horizontal. Above the far side of the hanger was a hole, an actual hole in the doors that sealed the hangar bay off from the world above and the storm raging there. Through that hole was pouring light and, more ominously, sand and rocks.

  She snatched up the comm and fired it up to broadcast on an open channel. ‘Jonah to Pouco Jacare, Jonah to Pouco Jacare …’ She paused for a moment, trying to summon the right words. ‘What the fuck are you doing, you demented idiots?!’

  +Jenna, that you?+ Ricardo Moutinho’s voice crackled jovially over the comm. +See, we’ve logged into the automatic weather sensors they have here and taken a reading on the storm up there. It’s not so bad at the moment, the gusts are only a few hundred miles per hour – nothing Jack can’t handle, if he’s careful. So we’re going to get some altitude and start broadcasting using this girl’s comms system, and try to reach our people that way, since the Uragan comm systems are still offline and I don’t intend to wait for hours until they come back on again. Over!+

  Something streaked from under the nose of the Pouco Jacare and detonated a split second later on the hangar bay roof with another titanic impact and a corresponding widening of the hole, causing Jenna to flinch in terror. Bits of debris tumbled down, clattering off the luckless shuttle which was berthed on the far side, and the flow of sand and rocks from above increased.