Provenance I - Flee The Bonds (21 page)

The beam vanished and Steve crawled under the rolling track.

Standing in the middle of the U-shaped production line, he surveyed the dingy concrete basement. To his right, the whirring arms of an orange robot passed white cubes from a components bin to the track. Ahead, the track curved through the lurid magenta glow of the solitary station, before turning left and running parallel with the wall. It terminated at the inclined conveyor belt carrying white cubes up through the opening in the assembly hall floor.

Gerhard slouched on one of the slatted metal drums that marked the basement’s centre line; his left arm supported by his right. As Steve drew closer, his lamp highlighted the grimy lines etched in Gerhard’s forehead. ‘How are you?’

‘My arm is not good.’

‘Let me see.’

Steve released Gerhard’s collar clip, pulled the zip slider down, and moved his hand across the sodden suit liner. At the shoulder, he encountered a bulbous lump. ‘It’s not broken, it’s dislocated. Sit up and pull your shoulders back.’

Gerhard did as asked. ‘You have done this before?’

Steve knelt by Gerhard’s side and took hold of his left wrist and elbow. ‘I didn’t spend six months in the trauma unit making tea.’

Immobilising the elbow at the waist, Steve held Gerhard’s left forearm parallel to the floor and pulled it towards him until he met resistance in the rotation. Gerhard moaned. Taking a firm grip, Steve moved the upper arm forward and rotated the forearm inwards. The distinctive ‘pop’ produced a sigh from Gerhard. ‘Ahh,
danke
.’

Steve rose awkwardly, ‘You’re welcome. You’d better put your kit back on.’

‘You are injured as well?’

Steve blinked his right eye. ‘It’s not serious.’

Gerhard nodded at Steve’s MPS. ‘I mean that.’

Flashing yellow silhouetted the radiation icon. Steve tapped the MPS screen. ‘It’s fine, less than a Gray.’
I hope.

Gerhard looked up at the pale light filtering down through the opening. ‘What was that?’

‘I don’t know.’ Unless Jannae’s telling the truth, in which case I know exactly what it is. Humanity’s exterminator.

‘Where are the Defenders? The Controller should have alerted them.’

Steve slumped down onto the opposite drum; his body had begun to complain. ‘They’re not needed anymore. My Cogent should have incinerated that Prefect, it’s something new. I think that’s what concerned your SCITECH friend.’ He now understood the significance of the modified Cogent. What he didn’t know was why it had been sent to him, or if it would work. Next time he’d push the wheel all the way.

Gerhard’s helmet beam illuminated Steve’s scuffed boots. ‘Every day more people disappear. Maybe . . .’

Steve raised his head until his beam locked onto Gerhard’s facemask. ‘Whatever the Resistance are planning, it’ll fail. SIS know all about the Resistance. Including yours.’

Their helmet beams collided.

‘You told me you did not know the sign on the bridge.’

Steve braced his arms on the drum. ‘No I didn’t, you assumed that because I asked you what it meant.
Insprinc haptbandun, flee the bonds
, is the slogan for the Austro-German Resistance.’

Gerhard leapt up. ‘I must return to Maria.’

‘No, we have to complete the mission.’

‘But if they find Maria . . .’

‘They won’t, you’re both off net. You haven’t contacted your family, have you?’

‘No. I understand the risks.’

So how does Jannae know you’re alive? Is she Resistance?

‘I doubt you do.’ Steve sighed. ‘Make no mistake Gerhard; if I thought you were involved in Jason’s death, I’d kill you.’

Gerhard’s helmet beam fell to the floor. ‘I know. I am sorry about Jason, but you know what SIS have done — and you have seen what their Interrogators have left me.’

Steve had. He’d also seen Maria’s black-market prescription of antipsychotics on the bathroom shelf. His beam flashed into Gerhard’s face. ‘Have you thought about what will happen if you attack the Council? How many innocents will die?’

Gerhard shielded his eyes. ‘Have you ever loved someone?’

Steve eased up and massaged his back, ‘Do you love her enough to kill her? Because if you’re captured, SIS will make you wish you had.’

‘They cannot kill everyone.’

Steve decided against answering that. ‘We’ll take one of those cubes with us; its programming might tell us what they’re up to.’

They crossed the basement to the glowing polytunnel. Within the station’s translucent cover, a giant robotic spider hung over the track, its limbs bustled, twisting and turning in a symphony of precision. Steve rested his hand on the cover. ‘We’ll take one that’s been processed.’

He took a vacpac from his belt and picked up the next white cube to exit the station. It was slightly larger than his palm and weighed about the same as a small bag of sugar. Its lustrous sides were smooth and unblemished, a thumbnail disc of emerald-green centred the top and SIS’s clawed hand embossed the bottom. As the vacpac compressed, the cube’s green disc turned blue under the crinkled plastic.

Using the conveyor, they rose out of the basement and sprinted to the crossover bridge. Steve reached the top of the stairs first and as he stepped onto the gantry, a screaming klaxon echoed around the voluminous hall.

He spun around and looked down at the stationary assembly line. Above the basement opening, a robot stood idle, its arm poised over the inner track, its grab extended over an empty space. The white cube wasn’t there; it was hanging from Steve’s belt. ‘Come on.’

At the bottom of the stairs they turned left, ducking under the static arms of the robots lining the wall. They burst through the warehouse doors and skidded to a halt. On both sides of the walkway, their helmet beams probed infinite racks of black Prefects towering up into the unlit roof space.

Behind them, a screeching crash preceded the clatter of metal tumbling across concrete. Steve’s nemesis had escaped from its cage. ‘Go!’

* * * *
 

The deck plates vibrated beneath Steve’s boots as the boat eased away from the lock. He leant back against the superstructure and stared up into the darkening sky. He’d always hoped to be standing with Penny on the deck of
Cool Breeze
raising a glass to Provenance’s departure. Now he realised that unless he did something, neither they nor millions of others would live that long.

14:05 MON 30:10:2119

Intra Zone, Wiltshire, England, Sector 2

The lead jarred Penny’s arm, ‘Digby, stop it!’

Her anger had waned to regret, regret to sorrow, and now only dread remained. She’d reacted out of fear, fear Steve was somebody she didn’t know, fear she would lose him.

Ducking under the canal bridge, she pulled Digby to a halt, and patted him. ‘I’m sorry. It’s not your fault.’ Penny sniffed deeply and stepped out into the pale light.

Hope sank in the stagnate grey water.
Cool Breeze
had gone.

She trudged to the empty mooring and stared at the trampled grass and muddy footprints. The grass would recover; rain would dissolve the footprints. Soon they’d be no evidence he’d ever been there. A sickening panic washed over her, ‘Steve!’

‘Penny?’

She tilted her head up; she couldn’t remember crouching. Penny rose, Digby remained seated. He didn’t like Uncle Celbrohn either. ‘Hello, Uncle.’

He tugged at both sides of his ridiculous moustache. ‘What’s wrong?’ His slanted head enhanced the feigned concern.

She met his probing stare. ‘I had an argument with my friend.’ Perhaps she’d find a thread of avuncular compassion.

Not a chance. Uncle Celbrohn had only a ligature of hate. ‘You mean your
Advocate
friend.’

‘He’s not an Advocate. He works for the Food Ministry.’ Penny had never been very adept at lying, but resolve held her focus steady.

Derision flowed from twisted lips, ‘Oh come on, girl, I saw it. The plods with the BRD at Barlton, remember?’

‘You risked exposing me and Dad for that?’ Her eyes narrowed, ‘That’s why you told me about that man on Steve’s boat, you wanted me to find out.’ She shook her head, ‘You really are spiteful.’

Celbrohn’s face cleared and he took a step forward. ‘Better that way around. I doubt he’d be very happy finding out about
your
extracurricular activities.’ He nodded at the empty mooring. ‘Now tell me where he’s gone.’

‘If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.’ She now understood why
Cool Breeze
had moved.

‘What did he tell you about his work?’

‘What do you think?’

Needle-points of malevolence formed under Celbrohn’s arched eyebrows. ‘This is serious, Penny; you might have compromised the Resistance and don’t think our relationship will stop me doing my duty.’

‘I understand that.’ Penny could imagine him saying the same to his wife. ‘But our fight is with the Council, not Continuity. Most of them don’t agree with the Council any more than we do. Continuity’s fractured; it’s only TYPEs who’ll go to Provenance.’

Her attempt to placate the situation had the opposite effect. ‘You earn half of what a Continuity nurse earns, I suppose your Continuity
friends
don’t agree with that either?’

‘It’s not about credits.’

His thin smile confirmed the ensnarement, ‘It’s always been about credits. Your mum didn’t die because her cancer was worse than anybody else’s.’ He raised a finger. ‘She died because somebody up there decided it wasn’t economical to save her.’

Penny sighed. He’d used that emotional pretence to recruit her, exploiting her public tears as only a male chauvinist would. She’d since discovered her Uncle’s true motivation, envy-fuelled hatred.

Digby stood and shook his coat. She looked down and smiled.
Clever boy.
‘We have to go.’

Gravel churned under Celbrohn’s Western boots and he strutted away. His parting shot pierced Penny’s heart. ‘Your boyfriend won’t be so lucky next time.’

12:47 TUE 31:10:2119

Black Zone, Winchester, England, Sector 2

At the end of Little Minister Street, Steve turned left and headed towards the Cathedral’s west front. Due to demographic shift, Winchester had become one of ten Regional Continuity Centres. Like puppets on three hundred and fifty kilometre strings, the RCCs danced the Council’s tune.

He’d used Gerhard’s PNP to contact Jannae and she’d organised the flight from Lanztenstein. Steve hadn’t mentioned Gerhard, or the white cube, but he sensed she already knew. He glanced at his MPS, 12:52. They’d arranged to meet at 13:00.

An avenue of tree-lined flagstones led him to the war memorial, the original craggy stone monument augmented by two gleaming blocks of polished black granite inlaid with gold. He doubted they’d be enough of either for what was coming next.

The arched wooden door creaked aside and he stepped into the gothic edifice of stone and stained glass. A large number of elderly people milled around the narthex, their grey complexions matching the ambience. Hushed voices, infused with the scent of prayer candles, ascended into the vault.

Steve’s sprung soles fell silently on the north aisle’s monochrome patchwork of stone slabs and memorials. To his right, the view of the nave was interrupted every few metres by massive stone pillars. Neat rows of dark wood chairs filed towards the altar, the density of the thickly clothed laity increasing as he advanced eastwards. Jannae and her mint coat waited one seat in.

Steve unhitched his ruckall and sat down beside her. She turned towards him and smiled. Her pewter eyes appeared tired, but otherwise inscrutable.

‘You are injured.’

He touched the bruised cut over his right eye. ‘It’s nothing. Have you been here long?’

‘Only ten minutes.’ Her interest focused on his ruckall, ‘Is it in there?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I see it?’

‘Here?’

Her eyes brightened, ‘You are not religious, are you?’

‘Why ask when you already know.’

She took the white cube in both hands and rotated it. ‘Do you know what it is?’

‘A CPU I think. I need to know how to deactivate it, or destroy it.’

‘Of course.’ She stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Stay here and relax for a while. It is the service for All Hallows Eve.’

Steve placed his hand on hers. ‘Are you Resistance?’

She smiled. ‘When SIS asked me to write your profile I deleted your cleaner’s name from your list of associates. I did it because you are someone who knows the difference between sedition and compassion. Does that make
you
Resistance?’

He watched her leave and waited a few minutes before standing. He’d find no peace here.

When he reached the aisle, he turned his back on the altar. Jannae stood in the doorway of the south aisle exit, talking to a man in a dark trench coat. Several possibilities spun in Steve’s head, but when she nodded at where they’d been sitting, he was left with only one option. While his eyes followed the man striding across the narthex towards the north aisle, he reached inside his jacket and gripped the Cogent.

At the end of the nave, Steve wheeled right and stopped behind the first pillar. The man stood about five metres away, looking towards the altar. He had cropped ginger hair and his pale skin stretched over high cheekbones and an upturned nose.

Steve took six quick strides and grabbed the man’s arm. A clenched face slewed towards him and then relaxed. Cool blue eyes warmed, ‘Hello, Steve.’

Steve didn’t reciprocate the congeniality. Beneath his jacket, his grip on the Cogent tightened. ‘Who are you?’ He sniffed.
I know what you are.

‘Shall we sit, I will explain.’

Steve’s ruckall forced him to sit forward, ‘Explain.’

The man’s smile revealed perfect teeth. ‘You have been selected for termination.’

How did they find me?
‘Do you have a name?’

‘Giuseppe.’

‘Giuseppe what?’

Giuseppe leant forward until his head almost touched his knees. He tousled his shiny ginger hair before smoothing it back. After three more passes it blackened. Giuseppe straightened up and rotated his head towards Steve. Within a tanned face, brown eyes stared out over an aquiline nose.