by Richard Dee
I had to open all the interior doors in the apartment. Apart from the bedroom, I didn’t want to feel hemmed in. It was hard at first, being able to see more than ten feet in any direction. Next, I needed to let the world in, from the fiftieth floor the noises of the city would be far enough away. I pulled back the blinds, flinching as the day was revealed. I forced myself to stand on my balcony and gazed at the open space, the view to a real horizon, the buildings, the Rock and the sea in the distance. The only thing that spoiled it all was the sight of the Balcom Tower.
As I ate breakfast, I thought about Gaynor. I hadn’t meant to send her away, trouble was, I couldn’t deal with the sudden change. Yesterday had been a roller-coaster in more ways than one, I had started off in prison, nearly died, witnessed two murders and kept quiet about them. Then faced a city full of people after more than a year in solitary confinement. It was a bit of a full-on reintroduction to life.
* * *
I needed to get back to doing something useful, but what? I couldn’t sit around or rely on charity. I was still a journalist, wasn’t I? I got my contacts book out of the cupboard in my office. The computer worked, although it went into standby as it tried to update itself. Before it did I saw that my bank accounts were still there. They were as nearly empty as usual; I just hoped that my cloud storage, everything about my life, had been preserved.
I started calling around, but I was met with a distinct lack of interest. People were friendly enough, they expressed sympathy at my ordeal and even hinted at having something for me to do. But they stopped short of actually offering me any work.
I called Brian; I needed to speak to him, to find out what had happened. The call was answered by his wife. I knew Marie reasonably well, I had met her several times when picking Brian up for jobs. We had chatted and together with his daughters they had made a happy family.
When I said who I was, the line went silent, I was about to hang up when she spoke again. “You’re out.”
“Yes I am, Marie,” I said. “Look I’m sorry to bother you, and I understand if you don’t want to talk but I need to speak to Brian. Is he there?” Again, there was silence.
“Hello, Miles.” Brian must have picked up another phone in the house. “It’s alright, love,” he said. There was a click.
“Listen, Miles,” Brian continued. “I’m glad you’re out, and that justice has been done but please don’t call me again.”
“Brian, I’m sorry about what happened, I was wrong, I put you in danger.”
“I’ve got Hamilton-Mercanti because of you,” he said. “That’s why they let me out.” H-M was a disease of the blood. He must have caught it in prison on Dalyster, it was spread by intimate contact, slow to kill you but certain. “I don’t blame you,” he said. “I knew the risks, Marie sees it differently.” He put the phone down before I could say anything else.
To my surprise, Gaynor came around in the evening; I had cooked and was just about to eat when she rang on the door.
She greeted me with less affection than she had shown yesterday. I had always known that our relationship would be different when I got out. I hadn’t expected her to keep herself for me or anything like that, so it wasn’t a surprise. I hoped that we were still friends. I shared my meal with her; she said nothing more about what had happened yesterday, which was a relief. We talked about my attempts to get work.
“In case you hadn’t noticed,” she said, “the word’s out. It’s been suggested that you’re not wanted in the press community, at least in this city.”
“I gathered that. People were friendly but not helpful.”
“That’s right, there’s sympathy for you, as far as it goes but nobody will back you publicly.”
“I spoke to Brian as well, I’m devastated.”
She looked sad and put her hand on mine. “You mustn’t blame yourself for that, I know that Brian doesn’t.”
“I don’t know what to do, get a job doing something completely different I suppose, or move away. I’m not going off-planet though, I don’t fancy another spaceflight.”
“Because of the automatic shuttle?”
I told her about the flight, I wanted to get it off my chest. She said nothing, just gripped my hand tighter as I described it. “Please don’t mention it to anyone,” I said at the end.
“I won’t,” she said, looking at her watch. “I have to go. I came to tell you, I can get you some work, but it will have to be off the books and not quite the thing you’ve been used to. Also, if I was you, I’d keep away from anything Balcom.”
That was the sort of advice I didn’t need. If I never heard the name again, it would be too soon. It was bad enough seeing their building every time I went to the window.
“Don’t worry, I’m not getting involved with Igor again. I thought he might have stood up for me, against the Delegate, didn’t he hate him?”
“Yes he did and I suspect that Donna had a lot to do with it. She’s got more involved with things since she became Mrs Balcom. Like I said, Igor’s changed, he’s taken more of a backseat. Donna runs Balcom now and it’s a different company. We’ll probably never know why Layla disappeared, if it was because of Donna, well, let’s just say that she won’t be back anytime soon.”
That was awful, it seemed like it had all been for nothing. “I’ll do whatever, Gaynor. Help me get my life back together, please.”
She smiled, “Of course I’ll help you, I’ll make sure that you’re alright. I’ll be in touch. Thanks for the meal.” We hugged again before she let herself out.
Next day, I took a deep breath and ventured out into the city. I started early and walked the deserted streets in the half-light. It felt strange, especially when strangers spoke to me. To begin with, I kept my head down and ignored them, but after a while I returned their greetings. I could feel myself relaxing and even enjoying the open space. Before I knew it, everywhere got busier as the working day began.
I found myself at Expressway Dave’s camp, I hadn’t meant to walk that way, somehow it had just happened. The camp was a lot bigger than I remembered, it covered the area under three or four of the supporting pillars now, and it had a shiny new metal fence around it. Dave spotted me and called me over.
“Hey, I know you,” he said. “You were looking for the girl with the dolphin on her ankle.”
He had remembered me from nearly two years ago. “Yeah that’s right,” I said. “Miles Goram.”
I saw his face change, he grinned. “You’re the one,” he said as he shook my hand. “You did it, you solved the Delegate problem.”
“Yeah, but it cost me time in the orbiting prison,” I replied. “I’ve only just got out.”
“I was sorry to hear that,” he said. “But you’re out now. Think of it as a second chance. Like everyone that’s come here, you can start again. If there’s anything you need, you only have to ask.”
There was one thing I wanted to know. “The girl with the Dolphin tattoo. She called herself Nat, do you know what happened to her?”
“I’ve never seen her again,” he said. “I know her friend was taken back to Dalyster by some thug called Flynt. Nat vanished, I lost track of her. It was like she never existed.”
“Do me a favour, Dave,” I said. “If you ever hear from her, give me a call.”
“Sure, I’ll do that,” he replied. “You did a good thing, it’s the least I can do for you.”
As I walked away, I saw a tall man who looked familiar. Dressed in dark overalls, he was tending the plants in a vegetable garden. Our eyes met, and then he was gone.
True to her word, Gaynor found me some work. Reporting on things that happened on other parts of the planet, places where I wasn’t known. No celebrity stuff at all, it was all human interest, survival against the odds, medical malpractice and the like. The money was just enough to cover my expenses on the apartment and put food on the table. I should have been grateful, but it was hard to feel it. I got the impression that even though people knew that
what had happened to me was wrong, it wouldn’t be wise to admit it.
She offered me work off-planet. After my last space flight, I didn’t fancy it, although I could see the attraction of a new start. I tried a couple of times but only got as far as the port before fear made me stop. Gaynor stopped coming to see me. We did everything over the web or voice call, no video. Then I heard that she had a new partner, I was happy for her but lonely. Although I was OK in many ways, I felt unable to share my life with anyone.
After a few months, the work that I was offered started to dwindle, as if Gaynor had decided that she had done enough for me to ease her guilt. I could see that I would have to look for something else to do.
I had no qualifications or experience in anything other than journalism; it was becoming clear that I would have to venture off-world. I found a job that looked ideal, a real second chance. More planets were being opened up, there were several new colonisation expeditions planned. All I had to do was apply; acceptance was practically guaranteed. There were even openings for people with my skills, they needed a dedicated team to record the process for posterity, they were called chronicalists or chronicalisers depending on who you asked.
I was sorting out an application when Gaynor turned up.
“I have a job for you,” she said. “I’m sorry if the work has been a little thin lately. I’m not supposed to be in contact with you at all. I’ve been pretending that you’re a new reporter who likes to keep out of the spotlight. Trouble is, Hendrix is starting to wonder about my new stringer.”
She spotted the forms on my desk. “What are you up to?”
“I’m getting out,” I said. “I’ve had enough, I figure I can go and start again somewhere, just as long as I can get over the fear of space-flight.”
“That’s really weird,” she said. “I’ve found you a nice easy job, off-world. You could use it to see how you get on. It’s a hotel review, a new luxury resort. It’ll only be three weeks, a month tops. How do you fancy it?”
I looked up at her, perhaps I could. There was plenty of time, I could send off the application before I left, by the time I returned I would know if I had an interview for the job. I had had enough of Centra, it might do me good. It would be a break, give me a chance to get over my fear and see how I managed on another world.
“OK, I’ll give it a try,” I agreed. “Where is it?”
“Reevis,” she said. I’d never heard of it, hardly surprising when there were so many planets that had a human presence. Maybe it had been discovered while I was away.
“There is a problem though,” she added, “but only a small one.”
“Go on.” Whatever it was, at least it wasn’t on Centra. And with luck, nobody on Reevis would have ever heard of me.
“It’s a week away, out in the Galactic Arm. The thing is, Balcom owns the rights, it’s one of theirs.” She had told me to keep away from Balcom. Now she wanted me to go to one of their worlds.
“That’s a small problem?” I asked, unable to believe what I was hearing. “You don’t just want me to take a space flight, in a Balcom ship, you want me to review a Balcom hotel when I arrive?”
“The planet’s theirs but that’s it.” She was talking quickly. “It’s an airless planet, they’ve built a settlement under a dome. It was secret up to a short while ago. They have a lot of research going on, the place has expanded, with settlers and support staff, there’s less Balcom influence now that it’s being opened up. It’s run by a non-Balcom council. The man you’re meeting isn’t anything to do with Balcom, he’s a developer. He decided that a luxury hotel was worth building on Reevis. Now it needs advertising. It’s supposed to be a spectacular place. Go online and check it out.”
She handed me a folder. “Here are your tickets and the contact details.”
I looked inside; the ticket said that the flight departed in three days. That gave me long enough to sort myself out. Gaynor had included a picture of my contact, a short biography. I was off to meet a man called Nic Stavriedies. According to the notes, he was a businessman from someplace out near Terra, this was his first hotel development. The picture showed a smiling, tanned man of early middle years. He had a friendly face, the sort of man that could sell you anything. It felt right, like a turning point in my life.
I made a decision, one I hoped I wouldn’t regret. “I’ll do it,” I said. “It’ll be nice to be somewhere different.”
A Sneak Peak at the next book
The story continues in Ribbonworld, set during Miles’ visit to Reevis. Here’s a short extract:
* * *
We came around another corner and saw the other rig, but it wasn’t going down slowly at all.
It was stopped – no, it was coming straight for us. And it was wide. One side of it was hard up against the rock face, leaving a gap on the edge.
Al swore and grabbed his wheel. “Let go,” he shouted and I gladly gave him control. We swung across the road, headed straight towards the drop. At the last minute, he turned away from it, the computer juggling the traction controls to speed the turn. I could feel the wheels bite into the surface, gravel and dust flying up around the cab. Now we had a clear run down the side of the road but the rig had got us on that side and was cutting across the roadway. They had pushed us to take the outside path, now they were forcing us over. Al accelerated as I saw the gap get smaller.
It was all very tight, but maybe we would get past. The edge loomed, with a vertical drop and boulder-filled patches about fifty metres below. Another alarm blared and Al took his hands off the steering. “Auto has taken control,” he said and we watched, helpless as the distance decreased.
Whoever was in control of the other machine had a clear purpose: kill us both. We were right on the edge of the roadway, the drop sucking at us and still it came. Our outer wheels went over the edge and we slid sideways. The rig loomed large, filling the ports on my side as gravity took control and we slid sideways, tipping over and away from it. I realised that the windscreen of the rig was obscured, so the driver was invisible as it passed. Then I saw stars as we flipped.
We rotated in the air and slammed into the ground, knocking us dizzy. The roll bars and fendering on the roof cushioned our impact, but even so I felt the wind knocked out of me. The lights went out and all the loose objects in the cabin bounced off the hull and into our heads. Pieces of paper, coffee cups, fluff and all manner of things rained down on us, and the darkness made it more terrifying. There were some heavier objects bouncing around as well, one of them must have hit Al as he shouted out. At least the coffin was gone – being assaulted by a corpse in the dark would have been unimaginably frightening. The EV bounced and landed upright on its wheels at the edge of another drop. Amazingly the pressure hull had stood up to the impact, and we could still breathe. Although we rocked as we balanced on the lip of the drop our wheels still turned. The automation shut down the power, and despite the alarms that still sounded it suddenly felt peaceful. Blue emergency lighting came on. I could hear muffled cursing from Al somewhere behind me; he could not have been strapped in and lay on the side of the hull. I turned my head and could see him, wedged between the seats. His face was covered in blood, but he smiled weakly at me.
“Perhaps I should have done the safety briefing after all,” he croaked.
“Are you badly hurt?” I asked him. My head was swimming and my ribs felt sore with every breath, probably from the seat belt strap.
“I don’t think so,” he answered. “I can move my arms and legs but I’ve cut my head. Something must have hit it.” He raised his hand and wiped at his forehead. “It’s only a small cut but it’s bleeding a lot. There’s a first aid box under my seat; I need a dressing.”
I leant over towards his seat but the movement sent the EV rocking on the lip. It slid sideways about a foot and stopped. Looking out of the ports on the right showed a drop of twenty metres or so, over boulders and loose gravel to the edge of the roadway.
“Don’t move a
ny more,” he called. “We’re balanced on the lip, hang on a minute.”
“How do I shut the alarms off?”
“Wait, I’m thinking.” There was a scuffling noise behind me and we rocked a bit, but didn’t slide any more. “I’m working my weight over to the high side,” he said. “Can you lean up against the bulkhead?”
I transferred my position, undoing my belt, and lifted myself to sit on the seat arm.
That and Al’s movement were enough to set the wheels on my side down on solid ground. Now Al appeared over my shoulder; reaching over me he pointed.
“Push that button,” he said and I followed his finger. “Now lift the lever down by your left knee.” There was a thud of compressed gas and a whine. Instantly the EV felt more secure. Al let out a sigh. “Ground anchors,” he said, “fired by gas into the rock and self-tensioning. We won’t go over now.” He retreated and came round my seat into his, cancelling the alarms one by one.
We sat there for a moment, looking at each other. I reached under his seat again and found the first aid box. Al took it from me and opened a dressing pack. He pressed it to the side of his head. “That’s better, let’s sort ourselves out.” His speech was a bit slurred and he seemed slightly disorientated.
He punched at controls and looked at screens; some were out but he managed to get them back. “Well, do you want the good news or the bad?” he said after a couple of minutes.
“Let’s have the good first,” I answered.
