Breathing Space

by S. J. Higbee

  Damn right it will! Jessica’s vengeful gloating painfully rang around my head. The pain coming from the realisation that whether he lied or not, this was going to end in mess and misery, anyway.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “I’ll co-operate – I will!” yelped Phil. “Please, don’t send me down to the Crypt!”

  “You betrayed your wife, your family and endangered the lives of every serving soldier in this organisation by your cred-grabbing thievery. We’ve lost thousands. And if you saw what Eddy’s lot did on Hawking with the dronium cannons you looted for them, even you might find it difficult to sleep at night!” My voice rose along with my temper. “What made you think we wouldn’t trace you?”

  “I’ll tell you everything. Only, spare me the Crypt. Please, Chief!” He fell to his knees, sobbing dryly.

  “Get up, you sorry waste of air!” snarled Chas. “You always was a puling streak of yellow water. Even back when we was training together.”

  I watched him as he scrambled to his feet. Things would go far quicker if we could get a confession out of him right now and maybe scoop up his sliming accomplices as they waited to rendezvous with him. “Hey, ease it down, Chas. Phil, here, is Diana’s husband, after all. I’m sure he had his reasons, didn’t you?”

  He nodded frantically, his eyes brimming with gratitude. “For sure!” He spilled a sorry story of self-pitying nonsense. How because Diana was pulling so many hours, she wasn’t there to look after him and the children the way a dutiful wife should. He put his hand to his back and grimaced as he mentioned that he was on a disability pension after sacrificing his health serving with the P’s.

  I glanced through his records, which had bounced onto my coms after the spit-scan. His claimed back injury was sustained while on a training run and his record as a merc was outstanding for all the wrong reasons, with a long list of demerits for insubordination, shoddy timekeeping and badly maintained equipment. His monthly pension was the lowest rating, which told me that while they couldn’t disprove his injury – back problems are notorious for being difficult to ascertain – no one was overly convinced, either. It was probably easier to keep him on with a pittance, given that Diana was a valued P’s employee, rather than turn the whole matter into a messy confrontation, forcing her to choose between us and her worthless spouse. I flicked open their joint financial records and was shocked to see the White joint account badly overdrawn.

  He was in the middle of some long whine about his struggles to cope with the children while battling with constant pain—

  “Where is Diana’s credstack? She gets a good salary.” I noticed a couple of big withdrawal codings, and on opening them up, solved the puzzle of Diana’s disappeared earnings. I glared at Phil. “You gambled away your wife’s credstack on Zippo races? You are, indeed, a prince among men. How did you get the smuggled items out of Restormel, once you removed them from Procurement? I’m presuming you used this office, for starters.”

  He chewed his lip, watching me, evidently trying to work out how much nonsense he’d have to spin to regain my sympathy.

  I banged on the desk. “Don’t even think about tugging my airline - I’m a heartbeat away from sending you down to the Crypt!”

  “Don’t do that, I’m begging you!”

  “Then I want all the details of how you stole our equipment. Now!”

  It involved a couple of his equally shiftless gambling friends, judging by their service records; and a cred-hugging grunt who smuggled the items onto a particular supply shuttle when a particular pilot was on duty. He hadn’t been with us long, so was probably one of Eddy’s people.

  I looked across at Chas, while sending him pics of the traitors from my com. “Get the necessary clean-up teams to snag these dregs and funnel them straight down to the Crypt.” I rubbed my eyes, tired to my marrow of the whole wretched business. “Where they can join this piece of trash.”

  “Nooo…” Phil collapsed onto his knees. “You promised!”

  “I lied. You sold us all out and didn’t think twice. And now you expect a fair deal? You’re tripping over an event horizon.”

  He blinked, apparently stunned and didn’t put up any kind of fight as Chas and Ralph hauled him off to the Crypt. Meanwhile Axil and I had some matters to discuss. Despite my previous intentions to present our findings to The Council, I had to concede that Axil’s instinct about this affair was solid. No way could this go official. Not if we wanted to keep Diana in charge of Procurement – and right now, with all that was going on, we simply couldn’t spare her.

  “Leave it wiv me,” said Axil.

  I clenched my fists. “What – I’m too small and female to cope with this? Remember who you’re talking to!”

  “I am. You need ter stand in front’ve Diana an’ break it ter her tha’ her sorry waste’ve a man has got himself offed. An’ have the likes’ve Beck an’ his hem-huggers askin’ questions. You gotta look ‘em all inna face an’ say you know nothin’. So it’s easier if you don’t.”

  He’s right. A fact I’d already realised without Jessica’s input – it didn’t mean I had to like it, though. I slowly nodded. “What about you? You gonna be able to work alongside her and stay solid?” Because your devotion to her will create all sorts of problems if she’s also up to her neck in this mess.

  “Wot jer take me for? Course I’m solid! This’ll knock her flat an’ I aim ter be right ʼlongside her an’ those nippers. Not their fault they gotta slimin’ traitor for a daddy. Nor hers.” Axil glared at me, daring me to naysay him.

  He’ll never believe that Diana could be capable of pulling such a stunt. Come to think of it, neither do I – but we gotta check. Too much is at stake.

  Which is why Eddy used Phil – to try and lever apart your team. He’s bound to know all Procurement’s soft spots after snugging up with that slack-thighed piece of trash you called friend.

  I gritted my teeth. Trust Jessica to raise the subject of Riona, my former friend and work colleague. She had been working in Procurement when I was sent there as a spy for General Norman, after completing my officer training course. But it turned out that she was the spy, after becoming Eddy’s lover when he was appointed Torturer-in-Chief down in the Crypt, instead of ending up behind bars, thanks to Norman’s intervention.

  “We’ll need to investigate, though. Or folk’ll be wondering why not. And there’s a chance we’ll lose Diana, anyway. She’s a sister living in New London who keeps yammering at her to come and live there,” I warned.

  Axil nodded, his face creased with worry and exhaustion.

  I yawned so hard my jaw cracked. “Time to head back, I reckon.”

  Axil didn’t move. “It’s jus’… Yer smiled at that piece of sh- bilgecrud an’ opened yer eyes wide. Never mind ʼbout White fallin’ fer yer act – yer had me believin’ yer.” He shook his head. “I swear yer lie jus’ as well as the Ol’ Man.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  He nodded, still looking like he’d swallowed a spider.

  I sighed. “Think about it for a nanosec, Axil. I don’t have the physique to awe you battle-hardened articles, even though I handle myself better in a fight than most folks realise. Neither have I the kind of beauty that Fina possessed, which had the men clustering around her, willing to swear black was white…”

  “Oh yer polish up jus’ fine—ˮ

  I waved him to silence, too tired and fed up to want to hear his pointless compliments. “I do pathetic quite well, however. Men seem to want to protect me and while they are busy talking down to me as if I were a wet-brained know-nothing, they drop their guard. So I get underneath their defences – not for me, but for the P’s. Okay?”

  Axil’s worried expression didn’t lighten. “Jus’ don’ get inter the habit’ve lyin’ when yer don’ have ter. S’easy ter do – an’ hard to stop.”

  I shivered. Like ordering men to be drugged, interrogated and murdered and then having to cross-question their stupidly loyal wives. Mother E
arth above, I hate myself and my scuzzy job these days!

  Eileen joined us as we marched past the two doomed guards being hustled away to the Crypt, while I tried not to think that they wouldn’t see the dawn.

  Hallo – reality check! They been taking creds to look the other way, while weaponry was looted that’s been used against their messmates. Vermin like that don’t deserve to live.

  Jessica was right – I knew she was. However, it was far harder to keep her black and white view of the world when I was the one ordering their deaths.

  Trudging along the lit corridor in grim silence, we all heard the muffled curse from one of the darkened intersections ahead – perhaps a spider landed on the intruder’s shoulder...

  I froze, as Axil soundlessly spun around, gesturing we backtrack to the junction we had just passed. As we crept to the dark tunnel some five metres away, I debated whether to cut the light and quickly discarded the notion. It would immediately alert the group ahead that we were in the vicinity, while right now there was a chance they didn’t know we were here. As soon as we turned the corner and eased into the utter blackness, I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, twice, to activate my dark-vision aug, my mind racing. Is this a coup? Have a group of George’s supporters been flushed out by my killing him and decided to make a takeover move?

  Get a grip! It’s as likely to be Phil’s scuzzy friends sliming their way to Procurement to scoop up their ill-gotten gains. I’m betting they use the tunnels to move around, given these passages used to be Eddy’s old stamping ground, snapped Jessica.

  That shouldn’t be possible! There are motion sensors to monitor any traffic through these tunnels. I’d insisted on having them installed after Norman’s death, despite some Council members’ yelps about the cost.

  Meanwhile Eileen sent out a HelpHail for reinforcements, while Axil attempted to get a fix on the scuzzers. However, he couldn’t get a reading. We exchanged a grim look. Whoever was using these tunnels had thoroughly compromised our security settings. Given that we didn’t know how many, or how heavily armed they were, the only smart thing to do was to stay still and wait for the backup team to arrive.

  Oh, c’mon Lizzy! Surely you’re not so limp-handed you can’t get the jump on a bunch of dreggy traitors?

  I gritted my teeth and ignored Jessica. Her giddy excitement when I’d stabbed George had been so intense, I’d almost tasted it and evidently, she hadn’t yet calmed down.

  Meanwhile, I ran through the HiddenMenu on my com to see if some of the surprises I privately had installed in these tunnels were also neutralised. I checked the operating systems, heartened they were all coming up as operational and on standby, whereas the monitoring network was showing as disabled. When was the last time I checked any of this stuff? I couldn’t recall. Because my access was only known to a handful of personnel, I’d assumed our security protocols were sufficient. A sodding pity, then, that they clearly weren’t.

  An eerie howl, accompanied by the familiar stutter of small-arms fire announced that our backup had arrived and it was all kicking off.

  “Snakekiller, Snakekiller, this is Clean-up One. We are now in position,” came the unnecessary announcement in my eardrop.

  I didn’t get to hear Eileen’s acknowledgement as Jessica’s comment bounced around my skull, Snakekiller! I’m liking the soldier who handed out that daily password.

  “There are four rats. Repeat four. We have secured all— No!” The squad commander cursed. “One has escaped. Target, wearing a pilot’s uniform, is speed-aug’d and stimmed to the eyeballs. Needs extreme force to take him down.”

  “Snakekiller to Clean-up One. No one better start flinging about grenades or firing cannons down here, or they’ll be chewing on the toe of my boot,” snapped Eileen.

  “Moving fast, is he?” I asked, fiddling with my com.

  “Affirmative, Chief,” came back the reply.

  “Attention all Clean-up Teams. This is Snakekiller. Watch the walls and standby. Three… Two… One… Now!” I flicked the Activate button.

  Right behind us, everything lit up like a supernova as three red lines, each six inches apart from each other, strobed across the floor, up the walls, over the ceiling and down the other side.

  “Get clear of the lines!” I roared, blinking my dark-adapted eyes as Axil – moving impressively fast for one so large – ran forward, hauling me with him.

  With a sound of tearing paper and the smell of burnt air, all the forcefields in the tunnels snapped on. Turning around, I could see the unmistakeable shimmer as the barrier behind us rippled into being. An automated siren skirled in the distance, warning all in Restormel of trouble in the hidden spaces most knew nothing about.

  “C’mon.” I walked towards the lit tunnel behind Axil, who was effectively blocking my view, while Eileen covered our rear. Not that I needed to see where we were going, as I was monitoring our progress on my com. The hum of the forcefield across the entrance to the main passage grew steadily as we approached it, until I turned it off and reset it as soon as we were through.

  “Tha’s a useful gismo,” commented Axil.

  “Mm. Reckoned I needed an edge, given that Eddy and his vile pets had the run of these tunnels, way back when,” I muttered, still focusing on the screen. I’ll feel stupider than a planet-trapped dirtsider if I disable the wrong forcefield. We only had another of the shimmering barriers to negotiate before we reached the group, where Phil’s three scuzzy accomplices stood, slumped and disconsolate, between our security detail, who all snapped off a salute as we approached.

  “Solid apologies for not securing the pilot, Chief,” began the commander, evidently twitched at finding me down here.

  I waved away his excuses. “No reason to believe the pilot would be in full military mode. Where’d he head off to, then?” Though I’m betting he was racing towards the exit nearest the shuttleport. Sure enough, the commander indicated that tunnel.

  “Let’s go, scoop him up then,” I said, stepping back to let Eileen take point.

  “Wait! What— you’re gonna get the pilot?” yelped the grunt who’d smuggled the goods onto the shuttle.

  “You gotta problem with that?” snarled Eileen.

  “Take us back, first. Please… He’ll kill us – he’ll kill us all!” The grunt was clearly terrified.

  Gape-brain should’ve been already soiling his sorry self, anyhow.

  I ignored Jessica’s interruption, as the hulking man babbled, “He’s the sickest star-crazer I ever had the shoddy luck to share air with – and I seen more’n my share of mad prodders. Got this brain implant. Spends half his time trying to off himself – and the other half he’s zipping around at warp speed and talking in a different voice.”

  Chas turned to one of Phil’s gambling cronies and jerked his head towards the grunt. “He wordwinding us?”

  Said crony’s beady gaze flicked around the group, unwilling to lock looks with anyone. “Nah. Reckon he’s telling it straight. Not that we had much to do with him. Stayed outta his orbit, mostly, given all his weirdity.”

  “I’m telling you – he’s wired with hardcore augs. You go after him, you gotta blast him to the outta edges of the universe, or he’ll tear us all apart with his bare hands!”

  I looked across to the commander of the clean-up squad and raised my eyebrows.

  Who met my gaze, as he said, “We got sufficient firepower to blast him to Hell and back, Chief. No matter what shielding he’s wearing.”

  Reassured, I turned to Eileen. “Let’s go, then.”

  Two forcefields later we found him, though it was something of an anti-climax. He was lying in a crumpled heap with a bloody dent on the side of his head, where he’d evidently run full-tilt into the forcefield. As Eileen bent over him and gently turned his head, my stomach churned. A half-healed scar snaking across the top of his head had split open with the impact, exposing a dull metallic casing where his skull should be.

  At my side, Axil cursed under his breath, before d
ropping to his knees alongside the limp body. “He’s still ʼlive. An’ if tha’s what I reckon’s been stuffed in his head, yer need ter cloak the poor prodder inna full stasis field.”

  “That’ll mean we’ll have to carry him,” protested the squad commander.

  “Nah. Get a hover gurney down here. Don’ get too close to him,” said Axil, getting to his feet. “Shift your arse an’ get him stasis’d right now. ʼFore he comes to.”

  The squad commander threw a look in my direction, evidently reluctant to go to all this bother for some under-nourished pilot who looked nine-tenths dead, anyhow.

  Listening to Axil’s advice had saved my skin far too many times to ignore him when he got that look on his face. A grim, shuttered look that spoke of too many bloody secrets and not enough years left in a lifetime to atone for past deeds. There were a bunch of people at Restormel who wore that expression from time to time.

  “Carry on,” I said.

  Satisfied we’d caught the last of the smugglers, I zilched the forcefields and parted company with the clean-up detail, heading back to my room with Eileen, while Axil decided to return to Procurement as his shift was due to start in under an hour. Once we arrived back in my room through the cupboard, we ripped off the cobweb-coated overalls and vac-brushed spiders out of our hair.

  “Please ensure I get a full report, after they’ve processed that dross down in the Crypt,” even as I said it, I despised myself for using such weaselwords. What I should have said was, ‘After they’ve drugged them to a standstill, wrung them dry of any useful info and killed them.’

  Don’t waste your pity on such flotsam, Lizzy.

  It’s not them I’m worried about, Jess. It’s this job. There’ll come a time when I’ll look in the mirror and see the General staring back at me…

  “Chief? You solid?” asked Eileen.

  “I’m fine. Though like everyone else, I could do with more sleep than I’m getting right now.” I stifled a yawn.