Dark Sky (Keiko) (28 page)

Sometimes, solving a problem wasn’t a case of how much brute force you could bring to bear. Rather like a chokehold, knowing exactly
where
to apply the pressure was usually more valuable.

She pushed the stairwell door open and edged cautiously into the corridor on the other side of it. Directly opposite her was another door, this one with a sign over it reading ‘Production Suite’ in Cyrillic script.

Standing in the doorway was another security guard: a stocky, black-haired woman over whose face an expression of surprise was rapidly stealing.

Rourke fired the shockgun from the hip and the bolt struck the other woman in her belly. She gasped and started to spasm, but Rourke had no intention of waiting and swept her right leg up in a roundhouse kick. The point of her boot caught the guard behind her ear and the other woman collapsed bonelessly, muscles still twitching even in unconsciousness thanks to the shockbolt’s discharge. Rourke waited a couple of seconds for the current to dispel, then quickly used two more contraction bands to secure her and pulled an access card from the guard’s belt. Shockgun once more in hand, she swept the card through the reader and stepped through the door.

She was greeted with the sight of a large room full of terminals and the sound of a raging argument consisting of at least four different people. She was on a raised area that ran around the edge of the room, which was hexagonal. In the sunken hexagon in the middle, and clustered around what looked to be the equipment that was the main focus of the place, were a group of Uragans yelling at each other so continuously that she couldn’t make head nor tail of what they were actually arguing about.

There were several other techs in the room, watching the show put on by their probable superiors with airs ranging from the amused to the annoyed to the downright worried. One of the worried-looking ones, a girl with curly blonde hair and a prosthetic eye, glanced towards the new arrival. Her natural eye widened comically for a moment as she saw Rourke, and then she screamed.

The sound achieved what no amount of aggressive shouting had apparently succeeded in doing, and the argument in the middle of the room abruptly ceased as every head turned first towards the sound, and then towards the small, dark-skinned intruder clad in a bodysuit and holding a shockgun. Rourke took in their faces for a second and wondered if this was such a good idea after all, but the die was cast now. She wished that Ichabod was here with her; his natural talent for wordsmithery would have been very useful right about now.

She raised her voice enough to hopefully be heard by everyone, and hefted the shockgun just enough to let people know that they shouldn’t try anything funny. ‘
Good evening. I represent the revolution that is currently taking place outside your building.
’

Sharp breaths, worried glances, a whimper from somewhere … but thoughtful, evaluating expressions on some faces. Exactly what she’d hoped for. She let her eyes travel around the room. Government employees these people might be, but they were still broadcasters. Their lives were about creating content and transmitting it to an audience. Surely, this deep on a backwater mining planet, there must be someone yearning to be noticed?

‘
Who wants to get the exclusive on the Rassvet System’s most shocking political event of the century?
’

DRIFT COULD TASTE
the tension in the air.

Uragan City’s Level Four was obviously supposed to be functioning normally, but even an off-worlder like him could feel that wasn’t the case. They’d stopped at the first big
politsiya
station they’d come to after exiting the vehicle ramps and passing through the heavily guarded checkpoints, and Alim Muradov had disappeared to presumably lead an emergency briefing. That left Drift and his motley collection of tag-alongs somewhat in limbo, and with the Chief not keeping a close eye on them, Drift had stepped outside to get a feel for the air.

There were people everywhere, many more than he supposed was normal at this hour of the early morning. These weren’t the chanting mobs of the revolution further down but worried-looking clumps of citizens that formed on street corners, then drifted apart and reformed again elsewhere with different members. Drift didn’t need to be fluent in Russian to understand why everyone was so concerned: as he well knew, all communication with Level Five and below had ceased.

Any city on any planet would have comms glitches at times when wires broke, or a relay faulted, or a satellite’s circuitry was fried by an electromagnetic surge from a solar flare. People understood these things, but half of a city simply dropping off the communications map? Drift guessed that there’d been no official announcement about why this was, because what government would announce that half of its capital city had erupted in bloody revolution? The fear of the other half joining it would be too great.

However, as time marched on, whispers would start flying – not over the comms, which might be monitored, but out on the street with neighbours – and people would surely begin to guess that this was more than just a technical fault. The powers that be would look either incompetent or scared, or both. He didn’t know how long it would be until reinforcements from other cities or from elsewhere in the system arrived, but the storm raging above would surely shut them out for at least a couple more days. If the revolution gained enough momentum, if it could bubble up beyond the lowest, poorest sectors where it had fermented …

His train of thought was cut off by his comm buzzing. To his surprise and great relief, he recognised it as Rourke.

‘Hello?!’

+
Ichabod, where the hell are you?
+

‘Where the hell am
I
? Where the hell are
you
?’ He frowned, realising there was only one explanation for how this call was even possible. ‘Have you got out of Level Five too?’

+
No, of course not, we’re … wait, are you saying you
have
got out?
+

‘Yes, I’m with the Changs and the Shirokovs on Level Four. But if you’re still on Level Five …’ He looked around at the
politsiya
station, but he knew full well there’d been no mass mobilisation of force to take the lower levels back. It was impossible, but he still had to ask the question. ‘Has the government opened the comm channels again, then?’

+
No, the revolution’s taken control of a broadcast hub here and … well, someone’s managed to remove the block on communications.
+

Drift looked around. Here and there on the street he could see surges of activity, and groups of people clustering around someone avidly listening to a comm. Word about what had happened below was spreading already, to friends, to relatives. He could imagine the message leaking out:
We’re fine, there’s been no catastrophe, but everything’s changed …

His brain belatedly latched onto the momentary catch in Rourke’s speech, a sign that she’d changed what she’d been about to say at the last moment, and his gut clenched in alarmed response. If Rourke was close enough to know that the revolution had taken a broadcast hub then that was either one hell of a coincidence, or … ‘What do you mean, “someone” managed to remove the block on communications?’

+
It looks like the revolution managed to find a slicer from somewhere.
+

Drift closed his eyes for a moment and groaned. Of all the … At least Jenna was still alive, if he was interpreting Rourke’s words correctly, but even that piece of happy news was scant comfort.

+
Ichabod?
+

He gritted his teeth and looked around quickly to make sure no one was close enough to overhear him. It was just as well that no one was: he might have burst if he’d had to hold the words in.

‘I nearly got shot in a bar!’ he hissed. ‘I
did
get shot in the street, and my damn armavest is the only reason I didn’t take a bullet in the spine and lose control of everything below my waist! I got taken into protective custody by Alim Muradov and then the fucking police vehicle I’m travelling in gets
blown up
by some goddamned booby trap, and I have to fight my way out! All of those things were done by the rioters, and you are fucking
helping
them?!’

+
What … why are you in protective custody?
+

He sighed, trying to calm himself a little. ‘It seems that someone matching my description
might
have been caught up in a clash between rioters and officers of the law, and ended up helping the cops get away before they were killed. Chief Muradov decided that it was safer not to leave us to fend for ourselves on the streets.’

+
Someone matching your …
+ Rourke trailed off. She knew full well how long the odds were that there could be another rangy, blue-haired Mexican in Uragan City. +
Motherless son of a flyblown whore.
+

Drift blinked. ‘I beg your—’

+
Not you, Ichabod. I was just … thinking out loud. But of all the times you could choose to help out the law, why did it have to be this one?
+

‘Because Muradov’s actually competent and I figured he’d get the situation under control quickly!’ Drift snapped. ‘What the hell are you doing throwing in with the rebels, anyway? GIA instincts too hard to break?’

+
Oh, piss off! I stumbled into a meeting between them and Moutinho, and they were going to kill me! I gave them some useful tips, then figured I could use them to help find the half of my crew who’d been out getting drunk when this all kicked off. I never thought you’d have actually defended the
politsiya
instead of keeping your head down in a bar somewhere.
+

‘The bar was full of choke gas because some of your new friends had just opened fire on the cops!’ Drift protested angrily. A couple of faces were starting to turn towards him, and he fought to moderate the tone of his voice. Arguing over the comm wouldn’t help, in any case: they needed a solution, not a quarrel. ‘Look, I don’t suppose there’s any chance you can get out of there?’

+
Surely you’ve seen that we’re blockaded in down here? Even if you could fast-talk us a way through the checkpoints from your side, there’s no way the revolution are going to be letting us leave. We can’t sneak out, either: A.’s broken his ankle, so he’s on crutches.
+

Drift bit back a curse. ‘Well, there’s no way
we
can get to
you
, even if there weren’t people who might want to shoot me on sight. Muradov seems to actually trust me now, but that will last as long as spit on an afterburner if we try to get into revolution territory.’

+
Damn it.
+ There was a brief pause. +
I suppose you should know now, and if you make any sort of joke about this then I
will
shoot you when I next see you …
+

Drift frowned. ‘Go on.’

+
I’ve called a truce with Moutinho. We were both missing crew members and we agreed to help each other find them.
+ Her voice lowered until it was almost inaudible. +
I don’t trust these Uragans. Their revolution’s nothing to do with us, and I want as much help as I can gather when someone decides to play ‘get the off-worlder’.
+

Drift considered this, then nodded grudgingly. He couldn’t stand Moutinho, but he had at least some trust in the Brazilian’s self-interest. ‘I can’t fault you, I just hope the bastard realises it’s his best option and doesn’t try sticking the knife in at some point.’

+
Well, he’s unlikely to try to sell the revolution out to the law. It turns out he
was
the one running guns into here, and now everything’s kicked off he’s kind of tied to them.
+

Drift snorted a humourless laugh. ‘So he
was
double-bluffing with that tip-off, the cheeky bastard. I figured so.’ He looked back at the station again. ‘There’s two of his here, actually. They flagged us down to try to find out what was going on and Muradov pulled them along. They’re the only two who wanted anything to do with the cops other than shoot at them, or blow them up.’

+
There’s only two he’s looking for, so that must be them. At least I can tell him we know where they are.
+

‘Hooray,’ Drift grunted, ‘we can all be one big happy family. Assuming we can ever find a way to meet up.’

+
Ichabod, this revolution isn’t going to stop here,
+ Rourke said, and now her voice held a tone of warning. +
They know they have to take the entire city: it’s all or nothing. The longer you stay with Muradov, the more eventual danger you’ll be in. Get clear of him and get to the starport. We’ll find you there, if we can.
+

‘He’s not going to be the easiest person in the world to give the slip to,’ Drift replied doubtfully, ‘but I’ll see what I can do.’

+
Well, he might be too busy to pay much attention to you soon.
+

‘Why do you—’ Drift cut himself off as there was a sudden upswing in activity from the knots of people he could see. They were no longer crowding around people on comms, now they seemed to be focused on anyone who had a pad out, clustering around and watching … something. ‘Okay, that’s strange.’