by C. G. Hatton
He gave me that look again. “And know when to ask questions and when to shut the hell up and just do what we say.”
I wished it were that easy.
He stood. “Come with me.”
He took me through the cruiser without a word, until we reached a security door. It opened as we approached and he nodded me through.
It was some kind of locker room. Dark. Soft lighting. And it was warm. NG showed me to a locker and told me to open it while he went to another and started pulling out kit.
“Anything in there is yours,” he said, shrugging out of his shirt. “Get changed.”
The clothes were all black. Softer than anything I’d ever worn before. Woven like it was some kind of armoured fabric but supple and light. And it all fit perfectly, right down to the soft, lace up friction boots. There was also a small kit with basic medical supplies, tape, sprays, painkillers and a box of injectors. That didn’t bode well.
I closed the locker and turned.
NG had changed into identical gear. He was waiting by another door and took me through to an anteroom, almost an airlock. There was a panel on the far wall next to the exit.
“This controls environmentals,” NG said. “There are presets… and there are extremes. In between, you can set whatever conditions you want. Be careful with the electrobe settings.” He looked back at me. He didn’t ask if I knew what electrobes were. I knew he’d seen the report from Kheris. It made my stomach cold to think that everyone here knew everything about me.
I nodded. That explained the vials of antidote in the locker.
“Temperature, gravity, you can set as high or low as you want. Scenarios you can choose. Or if you want to go for a record…” He flashed up a screen of data, names and times, “…you set it as M1 or M3. Don’t bother with any of the others. You understand?”
I nodded again. It was a list of accomplishments, personal bests and overall record times for different tests. One name stood out a mile, and I couldn’t help asking again, “Who’s Andreyev?”
NG set the screen at M3. “Ask Mendhel,” he said.
There was also a standings board lit up there on the panel, same as the one I’d seen in the briefing room but with different names at the top. And my name at the bottom, next to Hilyer’s. NG turned to look at me as I was staring at it.
“What?” he said.
“It’s different.”
“To what?”
“The other list, the one with Andreyev at the top.”
NG laughed. “You’ve seen the old standings board? Christ. I thought that got wiped. We’ve started again. You want to make it here? You run tabs, you earn points and you make your way up that list.” He had his hand poised on the door release. “Timer starts as soon as the door opens. It logs when you cross the threshold coming back out.” He hit the release. “Welcome to the Maze.”
Chapter 4
The next four days were intense. Whenever I was kicked loose from whatever they had us doing, I went to the Maze. I loved the Maze on the Alsatia. It was our training ground, our playground. Right from that first week, NG gave me open access to it, as often as I wanted. I worked my butt off, running through it so I didn’t need to think about anything, pushing beyond the point of exhaustion just so I could fall asleep.
Then I screwed up.
I was goosed, best run in the Maze yet, and I made my way back to the barracks, intending to just curl up and work on the puzzles, but our door was open and Hilyer was in there, sitting on his bunk tossing a knife tumbling up into the air, catching it and throwing it again. It took me a second to recognise it as Charlie’s pocketknife.
I couldn’t help yelling out, “Hey, that’s mine.”
He looked at me, the knife in his hand, blade out, and he threw it at me.
I ducked and caught it by the handle.
Hilyer gave a laugh like he didn’t care, stood and walked out without a word.
I scowled after him for a minute then followed him towards the mess. I stopped by the door, as freaking awkward as ever. It was noisier in there than I’d seen before, way more people, a music vid playing on a far wall and some kind of game in play on another.
Hilyer grabbed a beer and wandered in like he belonged. He headed straight to a table in the corner where Kowalski and Lewis were sitting playing cards. They looked just like us, older but not by that much, eighteen, nineteen maybe. Hilyer looked like he fitted right in. I was the new kid, standing there like I didn’t dare go in, and I almost turned and ran. I’d been there as long as he had but I hadn’t realised how isolated I’d been keeping myself. My knee was throbbing. I felt like crawling back to Medical or going to hide in the Maze again.
I started to back away but I glanced round and the woman I’d talked to days earlier was in there. I hadn’t seen her or any of her buddies since that first time. But then, like I said, I’d been avoiding everyone.
She caught my eye and waved, yelling, “Hey LC.”
She beckoned me over and I was stuck even more. Hilyer was watching me, laughing with the others, joining in their game and downing his beer. The woman yelled again and I couldn’t not go over. I sidled onto the bench next to her. There were no guns out that time, just bowls of snacks and more bottles, beer and stronger stuff, spirits and shot glasses.
She grinned and leaned over, saying loudly, “I heard you’re from Kheris. No wonder you know how to assemble a weapon like that. Christ, kid, that place is a shit-hole.”
I didn’t want to talk about it but she said louder, “At least it was when I was there years ago. What the hell is it like now? That where you hurt your hand?” She didn’t wait for me to answer. She yelled to someone further down the bench. “Hey, Jensonn, you did a tour on Kheris, didn’t you? This kid is from Kheris.”
I squirmed, wanting to sink into the floor.
“No way! That place is a shit-hole!” he yelled back and there was more laughter.
She turned back to me. “I heard your buddy is one hell of a fighter.”
I wanted to protest that Hilyer wasn’t my buddy but I just shrugged.
She laughed, stood and slapped me on the shoulder. “Excuse me, gentlemen, I am being summoned for a debrief. Won’t be long. We kicked ass. What else do they wanna know? Take care of this kid for me.”
I looked around as she left, tempted to follow her and leave but someone else appeared and sat next to me, nudging me along. More fatigues and that lingering smell of gun oil. I could hear them talking about all the shit-holes they’d spent time fighting in, and how badly wrong their latest tab had gone. I didn’t want to hear it.
Someone pushed a beer across to me. I took it but I didn’t open it. I didn’t think alcohol was a good idea with all the pain meds I was taking.
Until someone started talking about Kheris and what had happened, hadn’t some serious shit just happened out there? They all looked at me. Someone asked me outright what I knew. I didn’t want to answer so I opened the beer and drank more than I intended to, just so I didn’t need to speak. It tasted as bad as the last time I’d been given one and I felt my stomach turn even as I was drinking it.
The guy with the split lip was there. He pulled out a pack of cards and everyone around me hustled into a game, the table stacked high with multi-coloured disks. It wasn’t poker or mean queen they were playing, but it didn’t take long to figure out the rules. They saw me watching and laughed. One of them offered me a stack of disks. “Chips,” he said to me, holding one up and explaining it like I was five, “and this is a loan. I wannit back with interest, you hear.” They all laughed again and dealt me in on the next round. When Charlie and his crew had taught me poker, they’d used bullets to bet with. Lined up in neat rows. It was like he’d been getting me ready for this. For everything.
Five beers later, my pile of chips was bigger than anyone else’s and everyone was watching. I kept my stacks of tokens neat, obsessively, concentrating on the bright colours to keep me there and not flashing back to a cold wet
outpost with thunder rumbling amidst the explosions outside.
Someone shoved a shot glass into my hand and filled it with ice cold liquid that was giving off a weird green-tinged vapour. He nudged the glass in my hand and clinked it with his own. I downed it in one, no idea what it was and coughing as it hit my chest. He laughed and someone else topped up my glass. I should probably have admitted I was on meds but I was beyond caring. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I felt warm and fuzzy. I drank it and pushed my glass into the line for a top up as another bottle was opened and another round of cards was dealt.
Someone asked me again about Kheris but I just mumbled, “It was shit,” and everyone laughed and started bitching about someone or other and what had happened on their last mission, who had screwed up and how it had all gone to hell.
“What you’ve gotta understand, kid,” someone said, leaning too close, “is it’s us on the surface that makes it possible for the ETs to get to you.”
I didn’t understand. I eyed the liquor in my glass, it seemed to have turned bright blue, and muttered, “What’s an ET?” I’d lost track of time and I could hardly see straight.
The woman from earlier pushed in to sit next to me and said right into my ear, “The extraction teams. They’re the ones that take all the damned glory but believe me…” She took the glass out of my hand. “…we’re the ones that keep you alive, sweetheart.”
It seemed to me that the field-ops were the ones that got all the glory but I didn’t say it.
She drank what was left in the glass and turned to the others. “What the hell have you guys been giving this kid? He’s thirteen, for Christ’s sake. Jesus. Someone throw me a bottle of water.” She nudged my arm. “You’ve been assigned a tab already?”
I nodded.
“What’s your call sign?”
I yawned. “Felix.”
She nodded, knowingly as if she was storing the information. “Don’t you worry, I’ll look out for you.”
I was struggling to keep my eyes open. “Who in here are extraction teams?”
She laughed, harsh. “They’re the ones that just got three of our people killed.” She pointed. “Smart asses over on that side…” Then she pointed to Hilyer and his buddies next and said, “Field-ops. At least you guys earn your bragging rights. And the guys with grey flashes…” She pointed to the door where one of the guys in armour had appeared. “…are the Watch. Don’t mess with them.”
I knew that much. “And you’re Security?”
She squeezed my knee. “Damn right we are.”
Someone pushed between us. “You’re the damn grunts, Sienna, and you know it.” A hand landed on my shoulder. “This kid shouldn’t be drinking.” The way he said it, the insinuation was clear, that I shouldn’t be sitting there with them, drinking. “You turd monkeys want to land him back in Medical? Christ, he just got out. Come on, Anderton.”
Someone grabbed my arm. The woman shoved them aside, protesting that she wasn’t going to let me have any more, and there was shouting, scraping as chairs were pushed back. I ducked out of the way, lost my balance and was yanked round by someone. Cards and coloured disks went flying. The room was spinning. An elbow from a wild swing by one of the grunts hammered against my eye and I went down. My head cracked against the deck and it was a blur after that. I curled up as boots thumped against my back. Someone stepped on my knee and that did it.
I came round as I was being hauled upright, blood streaming down one side of my face and my vision swimming. The mess was quiet except for sharp, snapped commands from the Watch as they hustled to get everyone out of there. Whoever had hold of me set me down in a chair. A cold cloth was pressed against my eye, someone saying, “Hold this,” and I just sat there, holding it. I heard someone that sounded like Hilyer saying, “Way to go, Anderton,” sullen and kicking at my feet as he walked past. I opened one eye. He was being pushed forward by one of the Watch, some of the other field-ops and some of the grunts, Sienna included, being marched out. She winked at me as she passed. I got the impression that stuff like this happened a lot.
I closed my eyes and felt more than heard someone sit down in front of me. I blinked. The Chief, as usual, looked less than impressed. He held up two fingers. They blurred into three and back into one. He pulled the cloth from my eye and prodded. I flinched away, balance wavering. He cursed, took hold of my wrist and turned it, swore again and called for a medic. A cold sting hit my neck, warmth spreading.
I woke up in Medical. My second week in Acquisitions and somehow I’d got five field-ops and three grunts sent to the lock-up. Stunning.
They let me go after twenty-four hours, once my stats had stabilised, with strict orders to avoid alcohol, same time as the others were released, apparently, as we ended up trooping back into the barracks together.
Someone clapped me on the back and smiled but no one said a word. I followed Hilyer into our quarters. He pulled some stuff out of his locker, kicked it shut and turned. “Your timing is stunning. I had two kings, ace high. You just cost me two hundred bucks.”
I opened my mouth to argue that I hadn’t done a thing but he snapped, “Don’t. The Chief wants us in the Maze.” And he walked out.
The Chief was waiting for us. There was no one else in there. He told us to sit down and listen in, no doubt from his tone that we were in the shit.
“I’m done messing about,” he said. “You want to be here? You prove it. I don’t think you have it. Either of you. I don’t think you have the discipline, the attitude, the damned determination it takes to be a Thieves’ Guild field operative.” He paused, glaring at us.
Neither of us said a word. I was hardly breathing. If they kicked me out, I had nowhere to go.
“I don’t think you have the guts for it,” he said, looking down at us. “I don’t think you have – what – it – takes.”
We sat there in sullen silence. I didn’t know about Hilyer, but I felt like an idiot. I had a splitting headache and was struggling to see straight.
“Prove it to me,” he said. “Prove to me that Mendhel is right, because, believe me, he needs that right now. Don’t let him down.”
At the time we didn’t understand what he was talking about. It wasn’t until later that we found out what had happened.
I still felt sick. I changed, followed them into the anteroom and we stood and watched as the Chief flashed up screens of data and settings, punching a preset, M1, electrobes to high, gravity to variable, and the temperature to forty two.
I hate electrobes and I hate being hot. It was like he knew exactly the worst conditions to send me into.
He turned to us. “Welcome to your first time-test.”
Chapter 5
“You have three hours,” he said. “One hundred and eighty minutes to get to the end. You take longer than that, you’re out. Are you ready?”
Hilyer tensed and said, “Yessir,” snappy like he was used to talking like that.
I wasn’t. Either used to talking like that, or ready.
The Chief hit the door release and Hilyer took off, sprinting into the dark.
I don’t know why but I was rooted to the spot.
“What are you waiting for?” the Chief said. He gestured into the Maze. “Go. Clock’s ticking.” When I didn’t move, he leaned down again and said in an exaggerated whisper, “Those dog tags you’re wearing, kid, have one helluva legacy ingrained in them. You want to make it here? You make him proud.”
I couldn’t help looking at Charlie’s band on my wrist. There was a countdown clock scrolling across its black surface, 179:37, 179:36, 179:35…
“Less than three hours now,” the Chief said. “Get moving, Anderton, or Hilyer is going to kick your ass.”
I started to back away.
“Faster than that,” he yelled after me.
I turned and ran.
I knew every possible route through the Maze but it still wasn’t easy in the dark, only flashes of light here and there. It wa
s tough going. Steep slopes, hard climbs, narrow ledges to edge across and long stretches that played havoc with the senses. It was dark enough that I couldn’t totally see what was coming up and at times I just ran, sweating, light-headed, not giving a damn about what could happen and beginning to enjoy stretching my legs, and not having anyone shooting at me.
Until I went for a jump that should have been a cinch, just as the local gravity field shifted, increasing, and I fluffed it. I was an inch shy of making it, bounced into the beam instead of onto it and fell, tumbling onto an angled slope that pitched me down, nothing to hold on to and no way to stop until I slammed into a wall at the bottom.
I gasped in a breath and looked at the timer.
85:22.
I’d been half way through. More than half way. Easily. And I’d ditched back almost to the freaking start of the Maze. And now the gravity in there was virtually what it had been on Kheris. It was weird how fast I’d gotten used to feeling lighter.
I pushed myself to my feet, feeling the band on my wrist shudder suddenly and a sting hit the back of my throat. Electrobes. It was hard not to panic. I breathed through it, re-orientated fast from what I could see of the plans in my head, and ran out to get back on track.
I had less than an hour and a half to get through almost the whole Maze. Or risk getting kicked out. I hadn’t realised until that moment how much I needed to be there. To belong. To have someone value me. I had eighty five minutes to earn it back. And I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life.
From where I’d landed, there were only two possible routes I could think of that would get me to the end in time. I gambled and chose the fastest. Ran through the weird narrow passageways of the Catacombs, squeezing through gaps I couldn’t even see until I was right on top of them, and worked my way through to the tunnel. It should have got me right back on track but as I ran in, I skidded to a halt.
