The Black Cell

by R. L. M. Sanchez

  “Right, can someone give me the blueprints for the dome, please?” McKenna asked. Durant opened his OPIaA to a blue holographic screen and scrolled through the files to find a blueprint. He placed his tool on the hood of the cruiser, expanding the file in real time to a large enough size so everyone could see the projected image.

  “Thanks Durant,” McKenna said as he put his hands on the image. “Okay, now the way I see it, he’s keeping those monitors in view religiously – of us, out here. I don’t think he’s too concerned with his hostages inside the dome wandering about. We’re his threat.” McKenna had everyone’s attention at this point, and with so little time to spare, they were open to whatever he had to say. “So, bottom line is, if I can get in there undetected I shouldn’t have any problem making my way to Tariot.”

  “So –” Durant said but was immediately relieved by McKenna.

  “—how do I get in there without being detected?” McKenna said. He looked around at everyone’s curious faces. “Durant, how well do you think this guy knows our planet?”

  “He’s an off-worlder.” Durant shrugged.

  “Well enough to think that adverse weather plays havoc on the dome’s fusion generators?” There were a few more shrugs. Durant shook his head.

  “The domes can survive anything,” Chase said. “Plus, the fusion gens are Auroran engineered, not so much as a flicker.”

  “Is that so?” McKenna smiled. “Did anyone tell our harvester that?” He looked to the short horizon, the other officers doing the same. A large sandstorm was heading directly their way. “Because I thought they caused quite a power disruption.”

  Sandstorms on Mars were a common sight, but the terraformers mellowed them. They weren’t as violent as they were centuries ago, although occasionally there’d be a big one. All civilians and colonial personnel were advised to seek shelter during any storm. As the officers looked around they could see the wind picking up and many civilians fleeing the area.

  “Wait, I’m confused. What’s gonna happen?” Chase said as he looked to the team.

  “Relax, gang, I think I know what he has in mind.” Hardy smiled.

  “I think I’ll have a little luck on my side,” McKenna said, raising his voice slightly to overcome the increasing howl of the wind.

  Hardy smiled as he saw the storm come in, but he mainly was smiling at McKenna’s plan. Martians of the late Navy were headstrong and to the point. It also finally clicked to Durant, as he’d seen a plan like this enacted before. He shook his head.

  “What is it, Captain?” Chase said to Durant as McKenna closed the blueprint and walked to the side.

  Durant nodded slightly, rubbing his lip. “Think what you want but, if there’s one thing I know about McKenna, he’s clever. And fast,” Durant said, reluctantly agreeing with his own statement.

  McKenna moved to a nearby cruiser and began checking over his gear. In his everyday routine, he wore a solid button-down shirt, a loose-fitting tie and cargo uniform pants, and living on the uneven grounds and red sand made boots a must. He always carried his Mars Pattern Industries R-48 Ripper handgun in a leather cross draw shoulder holster. He carried utility gear daily as well, attached to his belt: five extra magazines for his handgun, a flashlight, handcuffs, a forensic tool, small utility pouch and a sheathed combat knife. One could say he was over-prepared for an off-duty cop, but Martians were known for being equipped to handle almost anything at any given time.

  McKenna pulled a brown cloth out of his coat pocket to wrap around his face, and Hardy tossed him some goggles for the storm. McKenna pulled his pistol from his holster and pulled the slide back slightly to ensure a round was chambered in case he needed it, although his goal was to bring Tariot to justice if possible.

  “One more thing, McKenna, what should I tell Tariot?” Hardy asked.

  “I can’t do everything for you, Admiral,” McKenna said and pulled his goggles over his eyes.

  Hardy smiled as he put on his own goggles. He then accessed his OPIaA and linked his earpiece to his cruiser’s speakers so that he could address the other officers on site.

  “Alright people, we got a storm rolling in! Goggles and dusters on! Brace yourselves!” Hardy yelled. His voice was unmistakable and didn’t require repetition. He saw all the officers begin to put on the appropriate gear if they hadn’t been doing so already. Many officers also began taking cover inside their vehicles.

  McKenna stared at the coming storm. It was an awesome sight. The gigantic red cloud coming at bull speed meant nothing could be seen past it. McKenna looked down to his OPIaA and set a navigational beacon to the security room so he could make his dash as straight and fast as possible. It would be very easy to lose himself within a storm such as the one approaching when visibility dropped to around five feet. The red cloud towered over the dome, dwarfing it, and at that moment the cloud engulfed it as the wind hit everyone at high speeds. McKenna took off like a cheetah into the dust.

  “Don’t worry kid, I’ll give him a buzz. Hopefully he’ll take his gaze off the systems for a bit,” Hardy said through McKenna’s earpiece.

  Hardy tuned into the security office communications channel to try and distract Tariot. McKenna listened in as he approached the dome at high speed.

  Tariot was startled when he heard the radio beep on the console. He answered it without hesitation. “Where’s my fucking shuttle, Hardy?”

  “It just fueled up but it’s grounded until this storm clears. We’re shutting down orbital defense per your request as well, so calm down and don’t do anything stupid. The storm is bad and it’s playing with power. You might see a glitch or two.”

  “You see, Hardy? You waited too long and now there’s a fucking storm up my ass!”

  The track that the auto-doors slid on snapped off causing the door to fall flat on the ground as McKenna smashed into the front door of the dome. He sprinted towards the security room, his OPIaA’s female OS voice chanting out distance cues as he drew closer. 40 meters, 35 meters... At thirty meters, he pulled his R-48 Ripper from his holster. He could feel his legs limbering up as he gained speed. 20 meters, 10 meters… He pulled the cloth from his mouth as he saw the door to the office.

  Tariot stood in the office, suspicious if the MCP was up to something. Then again, there actually was a massive storm outside so his retaliatory options were limited.

  “You need to calm down,” Hardy said through the communications panel. “I can’t control the weather here, so just sit tight and twiddle your thumbs or something.”

  “Fine, fine! You’re still on the clock though, Hardy. It’s been a pleasure!” The call ended and Tariot was actually pleased. His shuttle was on the way and he wouldn’t have to worry about mass accelerator guns blowing him out of orbit. All he had to do was sit tight for a while until the storm passed.

  He picked up his portable cooler units filled with his take from the colony: over two dozen organs netting around ten thousand credits apiece. He turned around but stopped half-turn as he saw a puzzling red light flashing on the security console. He pressed it and an external hologram appeared, showing a video image of the front door open not far from the security office.

  Tariot’s eyes widened as he heard the clicking of running footsteps towards the room. Just as he turned to the ornate wooden door, it smashed off its hinges as a man emerged through the doorway. All he heard next was the man’s OPIaA chime in a female voice: You have arrived at your destination.

  As the door smashed open, a piece of debris smacked the lighting fixture above, causing it to flicker slowly. McKenna raised his weapon at Tariot, who stood motionless.

  “Marcus Tariot, you’re under arrest for multiple codes broken under the Martian Statutory of Law, including illegal organ harvesting, withholding hostages and murder.” McKenna emphasized the last charge.

  “Well played, cop,” Tariot said in a shaky voice. “Is this the part where you ask why I did it?”

  “Nope,” McKenna said quickly, never taking hi
s aim away from the sight of his handgun. “Maybe later if you make good decisions right now. Unless you want to make this easier for me.”

  “I should have known that bastard Hardy was up to something. Crafty bunch, aren’tcha!”

  “Where’s the bomb, Tariot?” Tariot stared at McKenna. The light above began to flicker increasingly. “I won’t ask again.” McKenna saw a small glint of a metal object slide out of Tariot’s sleeve just as the light above finally failed, blackening the room.

  Tariot had no hesitation as he dashed towards him, closing the short distance of four feet between them. A loud boom rang out, the muzzle flash of the weapon lighting the dark room for an instant as McKenna got a shot off at the wall behind them. Tariot swiped up and left, slashing McKenna’s right hand. The wound caused McKenna to drop his weapon, but unknown to Tariot, an ex-Martian soldier was just as deadly without one.

  Tariot repositioned his forearm swiftly to slash up and right at McKenna’s chest, but McKenna countered by bringing his weight right. He slammed his left hand into Tariot’s upper right arm, the one holding the scalpel, then gripped his wrist to stop the swing. He quickly slammed his right arm into Tariot’s suspended forearm, where the opposing force of the two arm joints and sheer strength of McKenna’s technique broke Tariot’s arm so a section of bone cut its way out through his skin.

  Tariot sharply screamed in pain as he dropped the scalpel. McKenna pulled the dangling limb towards him like a handle, driving his right elbow into Tariot’s lower gut and sending the air straight out of his lungs. McKenna immediately threw his arm across Tariot’s chest, grabbing his right shoulder and locking his foot behind Tariot’s. He then slammed him down to the ground, Tariot’s head hitting hard against the cold floor, where blood began to trickle from his head.

  McKenna’s entire technique was perfect and took five seconds flat. Tariot was fading out of consciousness, but found the strength to say two words to the detective: “Nice… moves…” Tariot’s head then thumped against the floor as he passed out.

  McKenna stood over Tariot’s unconscious body, then grabbed his pistol and re-holstered it. His hand was dripping blood, which began flowing freely. He pulled out a cloth and wrapped it around his arm, applying pressure.

  “This is Captain McKenna, target neutralized,” he said into his earpiece. He moved his way out of the office. Only now did he feel a sting on his hand where the cut was. He looked at it and saw a nearly inch-deep cut, oozing blood with muscle layers clearly visible. Just then the breach teams entered the dome. Radios began filling the halls along with police lingo and codes.

  “Clear Lobby!” a breach member shouted in the distance.

  “Clear Security!” shouted the team leader who had just moved behind McKenna and into the security office.

  McKenna walked through the hall and into the main atrium of the dome. Another breach team leader stopped him. “Detective McKenna? Hardy sent you in?” he said.

  McKenna stumbled a little bit. The cut was deep and he was losing a good amount of blood. “Yeah, you missed the show…” he mumbled.

  “Ha-ha, goddamn! Murder McKenna saves the day, all by his lonesome!”

  McKenna turned and looked at the team leader, giving him a cold stare, then simply pushed past him. He headed further out into the atrium, hoping to find a cute female paramedic.

  Another breach member, examining Tariot’s body, addressed the strike team leader who had made the comment. “Knock it off, Chance,” the breach team member said. “Tariot’s alive here, not murdered.”

  Without acknowledging the other team member, the quirky team leader shouted, “Say, drinks are on the strike team tonight, McKenna!”

  McKenna kept walking through the lobby, slowing down. He continued past the reporters, police officers and rescued tenants until he stumbled and fell onto Hardy, who appeared and caught him by the shoulder. He had lost enough blood to lighten his head in just a few minutes.

  Hardy looked down at the cut as McKenna put another rag on it and wrapped it tightly. “Shit, he nicked you good, bubba,” Hardy said. “Let’s get you out of here and find you a medic. A lady one. One who’s easy on the eyes.”

  Hardy watched a few explosive technicians walk past. “We just did a sweep. Techs found a bomb cache in the life support wing, disarmed it. Nothing but a few firecrackers. Little more than a bluff.” Some of the color had escaped from McKenna’s face by now, giving Hardy fuel for his poor humor. “Well don’t look so disappointed Alan!” Hardy said as he shook him.

  McKenna was relieved at the news. Durant then ran through the crowd to help carry the weary Martian. “Good job, brother, damn good job.” Durant said. Despite the stories, Hardy knew that it was hard to find a better tactician and Durant could sometimes see it himself.

  “You mind if we get steppin’ guys?” McKenna groaned. “I’m getting blood on my coat now.”

  “Of course, buddy,” Hardy said, “Where’s those lazy medics?”

  They made it outside to get McKenna to a medical cruiser. As the medics treated him and began to shuttle him to a clinic, he couldn’t help but think that this day was just another in the life of a Mars Colonial Detective.

  5

  CAREER OPPORTUNITIES

  The warmth of the rising sun was comforting. While the cold wasn’t as harsh as the night before and the sandstorm was long past, there was always a chill on the surface of Mars. McKenna couldn’t help but feel it, especially from where he was standing: the Mars Memorial Garden.

  It wasn’t too far from the clinic where he’d spent the night. Fourteen hours had passed since he took down Tariot. According to the clinic doctor, his wound was severe enough for him to stay overnight, but nothing that a good application of the cut-sealing, bullet-hole-plugging, miracle-application suture-foam couldn’t fix.

  The graveyard held Martian military lives lost over the past two hundred years. Sadly, a mass of real estate had been recently added after the Mars Solar War nine years ago. The graveyard was a vast, grim reminder of darker times, spanning over eight thousand acres in total.

  McKenna clenched his newly bandaged fist, knowing it was a small price paid compared to those before him. Wound after wound, his luck baffled surgeons and medics. Some called him the Son of Fortuna, as though the goddess would not allow him to die under her watch. But as a survivor, he would always remember.

  After a brisk walk, Durant stopped as he saw McKenna standing over a grave. He was holding a single bright white flower Durant had seen only near the ice caps of the planet. This section of the cemetery comprised all those lost in the Titan Campaign during the Solar War.

  He was hesitant to approach McKenna at first. He knew firsthand that it was best to leave a man paying his respects to the dead alone, even though the message was urgent. Durant was one of few Solar War Martian veterans still on Mars, with most having moved on to private security firms, most notably Red Dust Defense, somewhat of a haven for Ex-Martian military. After the Martian Navy disbanded, not many could see themselves leading a normal life. Those who tried struggled, including Durant.

  Of course, the rumors of McKenna stayed behind. Durant didn’t necessarily let rumors of any kind sway his opinion, but the tales about McKenna were hard to ignore with so many in circulation. Most saw him as careless, brutish, even a murderer. But Durant was rational. His animosity didn’t stem from rumors, but of Hardy’s long leash on McKenna. It was hard to gauge him off of anything else. He didn’t speak of his hobbies, his favorite sport, preferred music. But when he saw him standing by himself in the graveyard, everything he perceived of him briefly faded. Durant would never understand McKenna, but as a fellow tactician and cop, he had a respectable record from his time with MCP. That alone deserved some degree of respect from Durant.

  “McKenna?” Durant said, his voice louder than he meant to. He cleared his throat, embarrassed.

  “They have ears, too, Captain,” McKenna said. Durant paused and looked around, uncomfortable amongst the graves
. “It’s alright. They can’t hear anymore. More bad news?”

  “Tariot’s already been shipped to Pluto Correctional. It’s Hardy. He needs to see you at Victoria. Said it was urgent.”

  McKenna continued to stare at the grave. “You in your squad car?”

  “I’m heading back now if you need a lift.”

  “That’d be perfect. I came in an ambulance.”

  “Sure.” Durant chuckled. He watched McKenna.

  “I’ll be along, can you just…?” McKenna said, struggling with his words. “Can you give me a minute here? I won’t be long.”

  “Yeah, of course. Take however long you need, pal.” Durant began to walk back to his cruiser. As he left he caught a glimpse of the tombstone McKenna hovered over;

  AUDACES FORTUNA IUVAT

  A Martian Fallen Earns Peace,

  Through Peace Becomes Legend,

  Through Legend, Forever in the Fight.

  Minerva’s Cross Holder

  MCN, Liliana Monroe, 21st Shock Corps.

  McKenna dropped the flower on the grave, then clicked his boot heels and stood at attention while throwing a sharp salute at the grave. After giving a soldier’s respect he made his leave from the cemetery.

  ***

  MCP headquarters was massive. Built centuries ago in the Victoria crater, it once served as the Martian Colony Capitol and nerve center, but was repurposed after the war as the Colonial Police HQ. While the normal MCP domes that were scattered throughout the colony weren’t much bigger than the average house, headquarters was ten times as large, with a couple hundred working personnel within. The lobby was no different, big enough to give a clear echo from each voice and footstep.

  Museum was the word that might come to a newcomer’s mind, as the hall was decorated with statues, paintings and other ornate decorations. Upon entering the hall, a thirteen-foot statue of General Orion, the supreme Martian general during the Mars Solar War, stared out and loomed over all who entered. As McKenna dismissed the statue he immediately stopped when he heard his name.