Learning the Hard Way 2

by H. P. Caledon

  Keelan batted his eyes. “So you’re saying that after twelve hours we vacate the planet?”

  “Watch your jargon there, Mister I don’t want to sound like a merc. But yeah.”

  “And if the other one is still alive?”

  “You can’t go in without intel, and you can’t be of any help if you’re dead. The plan is to take off and stay in orbit to minimize the risk of being followed. No one ever leaves until they’ve got at least a corpse onboard. That’s a code all lawmen adhere by.”

  “Okay,” Keelan said, knowing full well that he’d then promised Mike not to leave without him.

  Even though Keelan thought he was pretty good at sneaking around and looking for people, he quickly learned that Mike was far better at that than he’d revealed in Delta Zeich. He also learned that Mike had an advantage in knowing the society in its whole and the mentality of the citizens of most layers of society. Keelan understood prisons and inmates that way, and that put Mike’s vulnerability in prison and Keelan’s own out here in a whole new perspective.

  Mike still taught Keelan, and now that they had weapons to actually handle, Keelan was given a thorough introduction in the two-bed hotel room.

  “Why still use bullets? Isn’t that kind of antique?”

  “No use in inventing what already works like a charm. Shooting in crowded areas can put too many lives at risk. Bullets aren’t distracted by other technologies. This earpiece.” Mike found a small skin-colored rubber thing which he held up between his fingers. “Some weapons can actually target one of these, so you only hit that target.” Mike held out a small weapon. “But you need the right frequency and the code for the chip, so you only hit that frequency and data.”

  “So you shoot an earpiece which conveniently enough is lodged in someone’s skull?”

  “Yeah, perfect accuracy every time. But no one or thing can be too close with codes that look like them. They learned that the hard way when these weapons first came out and a whole store with customers and everything got blown to pieces because their pay-pen was so close to the one on the target.”

  “So what are we going to use it for?”

  “The military has since developed a chip that means this weapon can only hit other weapons. With a weapons chip that is. It’s not used in anything else, and without the chip the weapon is useless.”

  “And the ammo?”

  “The bullets we load can’t shoot through a human, so no risk of shooting through them and hitting others, too. This one, however, can shoot through a transporter. Both sides. And these, notice the color of the tip, are explosive. They can take armored doors with hinges and frame and everything clean out of a building. But, shooting people, you should just aim for the shoulder—it’s usually not covered by a vest.” Mike tapped Keelan’s shoulder to demonstrate.

  “If I can hit a hangar door from ten feet away I should be happy. I never shot a weapon before.”

  “Here, you get the child-friendly.”

  “The what?”

  “The ones people can survive unless they’re in the brain, heart or liver or something. The ones a good shot can use in dense population as a last resort.”

  Keelan reluctantly took the weapon. He preferred knives, but Mike was right when he compared weapons to condoms—better to have them and not need them than to need them and not have them.

  “And the earpiece? What is that?”

  “This thingy.” Mike put two small skin-colored pieces of plastic with little holes on the table. “Their frequency is matched with the crono I gave you. It’s been pre-programmed for one of them.” Mike pushed a button on his own crono, and a small light on one of the earpieces blinked. “This is mine. Sound from my voice will travel through my bones into the ear where the sounds are filtered and sent to you, coming out as a clear voice.”

  “Can others listen in?”

  “Yes and no. They need the codes for it or some special contraption that can scramble our signal. The military, bounty hunters and mercs have equipment that can work across these scramblers. But, if one of us gets snatched they can track the other one through the twin signal in our earpieces. If one of us goes down, we say the code and the other one tosses his earpiece as far as he can.”

  “What’s the code?”

  “Our initials. MM and KH. Short, and often the only thing you have time to communicate in such a situation. But look here. In our crono, there’s a bearing system that can locate the crono it works with. You need a code to see the bearing. They can be abused to mislead a potential rescue by placing the crono in an open area and have a sniper keep a look out. So if going in, always proceed with the utmost caution.”

  “If? I need at least a body onboard, right?”

  Mike smiled. “Yeah.”

  “And those are?” Keelan pointed to a few see-through vials.

  “These are new fake retinas on lenses. We’re going to a part of town where there are a lot of retina scanners, so we need them to not get recognized.”

  “When you say new retinas, what do you mean?”

  “Just that it was copied from someone with a clean record. There are fake identities made up as ghosts in the Systems. In short, a huge headache to whoever tries to track them, so they usually give up.”

  Keelan nodded, taking a vial.

  Tuesday evening, they received a tip that the woman would leave her residence the next evening to go to a meeting with her friends. They were also given the address for said meeting, and they soon had to head out to scope the place.

  It was in the nicer end of town—so far from anything Keelan knew that he felt like a tourist. He could disappear or blend in many places on Motáll, but not there. Mike, therefore, had another lesson ready for Keelan.

  “It’s the way you walk.” Mike got up to stand in the middle of the hotel room.

  “One foot in front of the other,” Keelan said and sat back in the chair.

  “Shut it and pay attention. You look like a mining drill, tense shoulders, head lowered, and a kitbag under each arm.” Mike even demonstrated to Keelan’s amusement.

  “Yeah, okay. But how, then? And don’t tell me it’s all in the hips and pinkies going everywhere.”

  “Relaxed. Walk like you own the place... okay, you kinda do with the mining drill style, but like you own the whole street, not the prison. Like nothing can get to you and as if no one would dream of trying. Nose up, shoulders back, slightly reclined torso. That’s actually all that’s needed unless you’re stuffed into a tuxedo.”

  “I’ve seen a picture of one. And I saw one in a movie, and that guy was all hips and pinkies.”

  “Exactly! Movies, play. Wait here, I’ll find one.” Mike left the room, and Keelan smiled to himself. He had a few minutes to practice on his own at walking normal without getting self-conscious about it.

  “Much better,” Mike said when he returned half an hour later. “Catch.” Mike threw something at him.

  “What is this?”

  “Snacks. You can’t have a movie night without snacks.”

  “Didn’t get that in juvie. And we weren’t allowed to choose the movie, either.”

  “Fine, then you find a download.”

  “Yeah, like I know how!”

  “Movie night. You vegetate and watch a movie, eat snacks, have a beer or two, and forget the outside world for a while.”

  “Got any booze?” Keelan asked.

  “We’re not drinking.”

  “Just asking.”

  Mike hesitated. “Enough to knock me out once.”

  Keelan nodded and made himself comfortable against his pillow propped up against the far wall.

  Mike loaded the movie and placed a bag of snacks and a beer next to Keelan before he snuggled in on his own bed.

  The movie began, and for the first time, Keelan felt free.

  Chapter Seventeen

  People walked the streets as if they were the only ones there, or at least the only ones allowed to be there. After Mike’s lesso
ns in how to walk among the crowd, Keelan had begun to study people differently. In that town, everybody looked new and polished, with groomed hair, and the women had makeup on that made their skin look like honed stone dapped with glitter. Some of the men looked like it, too, just less glittery. Keelan had never seen men like that in real life—only on screens or in commercials.

  A man and a woman who looked very rich stepped out of a transport further ahead. She was pretty, but in Keelan’s eyes, she looked fake. The woman’s makeup framed her face with a red powdered border from cheekbone to cheekbone and along the hairline. It was a good color on her. A mental image of Alice, all sweaty and her hair in a tangle after they’d made love, pushed forward in Keelan’s mind. Yep, that was a beautiful woman—real.

  The woman with the red makeup turned and looked at Keelan as if he was some unwanted goo she’d stepped on and stuck to the sole of her expensive shoes. Keelan had thus far tried to blend in, but he wouldn’t let that fly. So he gave her his best lifer convict stare.

  She looked away and hurried off with the man close behind her.

  Keelan chuckled to himself and glanced across the street to make sure Mike was still in the stereo formation. They’d walked the streets for an hour and a half before they found the woman they were there for. She’d arrived twenty minutes earlier, and the meeting had begun five minutes later. Keelan feared they’d have to saunter around for hours waiting for her.

  He still felt exposed at that end of town, and after the meeting with the woman in red makeup, he chose to discreetly pull himself out of the scene. From his chosen seclusion, he saw their target leaving through the back.

  “M, you’re not going to believe this. She left the place. I’m following.”

  “K, what’s your position?”

  “Somewhere away from the rich people’s fake laughter.”

  “Confirming visual contact.”

  “You’ll never learn, will you?” Keelan mumbled and leaned against a wall, giving Mike time to catch up. From there, he could still see the woman. Wearing a bulletproof west was still so new to him that he noticed it every time he moved—exactly like he had with that damn bra. Mike had said he’d forget about it within a few minutes, and Keelan wondered whether women could forget that they wore a bra.

  “K, what’s your position?”

  “Right behind you.” Keelan put a hand on his shoulder.

  “And her?”

  “Toilet... now she’s on the move again.”

  Mike looked that way before pulling back behind the street corner with Keelan. They stood comfortably and discussed some article they had both read that morning—one which needed gesturing. From there and under that cover they were positioned so they could see the woman or whether anyone was following her. She turned the next corner, and no one was following her.

  “You follow, I’ll go around.”

  Keelan nodded and followed. Once he rounded the next corner, he saw the woman had stopped up ahead, and she turned her head and looked right at him. Then she sat on a bench.

  Busted!

  But then he remembered he had to say it out loud for Mike.

  “Possible envelope?”

  “Yellow.”

  Keelan continued and passed the woman without looking at her. Instead, he looked at house numbers.

  “Can I help you?” the woman asked.

  “Do you know this part of town?” Keelan pulled out a yellow envelope and went to her. Even though she wore sunglasses, Keelan thought he could spot her annoyance. “I’m looking for this address. The last guy I asked said he thought it was this way.”

  She looked at the envelope. “A courier who can’t find his way around?”

  “It’s a surprise. My little brother’s birthday, and my freight—”

  “Yeah, yeah, down that way, second road on your right, first on your left.”

  “Thank you.” Keelan sauntered that way in the walk Mike had finally approved as not belonging to a mining driller.

  “Good.”

  “Going high.”

  “No, not until I’m there.”

  “You are in less than two minutes. I can see you from here.”

  Mike made it to the street where the woman still sat. He barely glanced her way. If he did, Keelan didn’t notice. Mike crossed the road and entered a kiosk.

  The woman got up and left, so Keelan followed as far as he could on the roofs, but that part of town was not made for prowlers. And especially not in the daytime. She turned a corner when Keelan made it to the end of adjoining roofs, but she crossed the street so that he could still see her and keep Mike informed all the time.

  The woman stopped and rummaged through her purse, and something fell out of it, but it stayed dangling from the strap.

  “M, I found the lover.”

  “Where? I only see her.”

  “She buys them.”

  “She what?”

  “Look at her purse. I don’t remember the colors for gigolos, or even know if they’re the same all over the Systems, but those are coded preferences.”

  “As in... pleasures?”

  “Exactly.”

  The woman took her sunglasses off and looked around in a way that made Keelan sure that she didn’t have a specific gigolo in mind. Mike passed her shortly and they made eye contact. It irritated Keelan that he could only hear half of the conversation—namely Mike’s answers.

  “Uhm,” being one of them before he touched the colors. “Any preferences? Can’t do that, sorry...” Mike began to walk away, but the woman closed in and put her arm around his waist. She stopped and looked at him, surprised, having obviously just felt the vest.

  Angry male voices sounded, but Keelan couldn’t see them. Seconds later, they emerged and crossed the street. One grabbed the woman hard by the arm, but Mike didn’t stay to figure out what was going on. He turned and ran.

  “I’ll cover,” Keelan said and threw a shocker grenade as close to the men as he could. It blew into a bright light and sparks going everywhere, giving Mike ten seconds to get away. The angry voices grew, and Keelan ran after Mike. He found a staircase going around a building and made it out into the streets close to a huge depot area and only meters behind Mike.

  They turned into a side street just as the men rounded a corner two streets down. Halfway down the side street, a big transporter blocked it.

  “There they are!”

  Keelan and Mike turned in time to see the men take up arms.

  A shot sounded.

  Mike jumped in front of Keelan, who got Mike’s weight pushed against him. Keelan threw himself on his stomach, grabbed Mike’s vest, and dragged him with him under the transporter. Once through to the other side, he hauled Mike up and set off with as much of his weight on him as necessary for Mike to keep up.

  “Child-friendly, it’s in the shoulder,” Mike groaned and pushed at Keelan to run on his own. “Split up, we meet at one. Keep the frequency.”

  Mike ran left and Keelan ran right. Now he had to take as complicated a route back to the single bed hotel room as possible, and once again he chose to use the rooftops.

  An anguished scream in his ear made him stop.

  “MM,” Mike whispered. Then all he heard was static noise and a click.

  Keelan plopped down on the ledge and looked at the street below.

  He saved me. Took a bullet. Well, you have my trust now, Mike.

  Another shot sounded somewhere, and Keelan decided to forget everything about all of Mike’s safety precautions and tactical steps about running to one point to wait for six hours to go to another and do the same. Instead, he tried to calculate how far Mike could have gotten. Then he remembered the crono and found Mike’s earpiece’s position. Mike still had to be closer to it. To get to him, he had to leave the heights and cross the street. Something crackled in his ear, and he remembered to take out the earpiece and throw it away.

  Sirens sounded in the direction Mike was, and they sounded closer and closer as Ke
elan neared the position marked on his crono. Heeding Mike’s warning that a crono could be used for baiting a trap, Keelan made it to a rooftop.

  His heart sank as he saw Mike lying still on the ground with two men sitting by him. Two more were searching for something on the ground while a fifth was talking loudly into something in his hand. Keelan couldn’t hear what from the blare of the sirens.

  A medical transport stopped, and a man and a woman jumped out and relieved the two men next to Mike.

  One of the men went to the one yelling at his hand. He held up Mike’s badge. Behind them, the paramedics strapped Mike to a gurney and carried him into the transporter.

  The sirens stopped.

  Keelan closed his eyes and sighed heavily. That had to mean that Mike was dead and they were therefore no longer in a hurry.

  “Hey, help me try all frequencies!” the man yelled, still talking to his hand. With the sirens turned off and the medical transporter leaving, Keelan could hear what he was saying. “This is Andy Thomson calling the backup of Mike T. Matthews. You have a man down. Calling the team of Mike T. Matthews, you have a man down, respond!”

  Sirens blared again, and Keelan sincerely hoped it was the one Mike was in.

  “Continue trying! We need to get to the hospital!” another one shouted. Keelan looked closer and saw that all men were wearing a badge like Mike’s. They packed up and left.

  Keelan looked at his crono and saw that it was moving fast. Mike still had it on him, so Keelan followed.

  It was no trouble for Keelan to blend in inside a busy hospital while looking for Mike. There the false retinas came in handy, but he still found three alternative routes for escape. The safest was a garbage chute at the back of the hospital. Avoiding the lawmen there to check on Mike was a bigger problem, though. Eavesdropping on their conversation told Keelan that Mike was on the operating table.

  You have to survive, Mike, I won’t have your death on me like this! At least you’re safe here.