The Transdyne Awakening (12 page)

Awake now, the other inhabitant of the cell ran excitedly toward them. The Tran pulsed him with an electro-baton. It must have been set on a pretty high stun ratio. The unfortunate victim was sent up and backwards like a rag doll. His head caught the bench as he came to rest in his own stale vomit on the far side of the cell.

The officer in charge didn’t even look up from his electronic tablet.

“You, come with me!” he commanded. Clay rose stiffly and followed him out of the cell and into the corridor.

The Polibros’ bootsteps reverberated along the dark walkway. Clay found himself being steered down a tunnel to his left. Rounding a sharp corner he was faced with a large exit door. One of the accompanying Trans entered a keycode. Before he knew it he was pushed forward and out through the opening. He heard the door smash shut behind him and stood, bewildered for a second, blinking in the daylight. Before him, idling low on the narrow track between the tightly packed buildings, was a small terraglide. The rear passenger door slid open revealing a familiar face. “Get in here, fool!” barked Jean-Claude. Clay took an unsteady step forward and placed a hand on the vehicle’s side panelling. The terraglide suddenly lurched upwards a foot or so, throwing him off balance.

He fell to the ground heavily. Above him he could hear Jean-Claude’s laughter. “Idiot! You can’t even stand up on your own, can you?

Okay, enough fooling around. Take it down, Archer. Let’s get out of here!” Clay waited for the driver to lower and level the terraglide. He clambered in beside Jean-Claude and collapsed into the comfort of the padded seat. Turning sideways, he looked quizzically at his fellow passenger. Jean-Claude caught his gaze and shook his head at the unspoken question. “Don’t even ask!”

Clay knew the man next to him as one of Ahab’s most trusted soldiers. Jean-Claude was inner circle. In all the time Clay had known him, he had never seen Jean-Claude ever lose his self-control. He knew that to retain the position he held, the man must have a deadly streak.

He leaned back and breathed deeply, relief flooding over him.

Through the tinted screens of the terraglide he could see the towering buildings of the megacity. He had come to hate this cityscape. Its massive, ugly blocks housing the densely packed population. Ants in a nest. Even from the back of the transport, the claustrophobia nearly choked him. He felt relief all right, but it was mixed with a nausea at the surroundings flashing by. Fear and loathing for this awful place wrapped themselves around him. Minute by minute, second by second, his life was ebbing away and he longed to be free; to spend whatever time he had away from this human jungle. His mind was not in a terraglide moving through the Citizone. It was miles and miles away, traversing the open spaces of the outlands. The longing to be there was an ache in him.

Archer piloted them speedily through the built up maze, setting them level in front of the unblinking eyes of Ahab’s security cameras.

Inside, Ahab was waiting before the painting of the man on the horse. Clay steeled himself for a grilling. It never came.

Instead, Ahab went over to an ornate cabinet and took out a large, transparent container. “A stiff drink for you, I think,” he said, quietly lining up four bowl shaped drinkers. He handed one each to Archer, Jean-Claude and Clay, raising his own in a salute. Clay took a large mouthful. It caught in his throat and he gagged, sending a fine spray all over Archer’s jacket. “Boy, you sure know how to waste good liquor, don’t you?” Archer responded, trying to brush off the liquid. “D’you have any idea of how many ticks this cost me? You gonna get me a new one?”

“No ripples?” Ahab enquired. Jean-Claude shook his head before sipping at his drink. “No, they got the message straight away.”

“Good,” Ahab said, turning to walk across to his leather couch. He swung his shiny boots onto the low table in front of his seat. “No real damage done, then.” That was all he said on the matter. Clay would like to have known what had taken place to secure his rapid release, but he held his peace. Ahab turned his attention to briefing Archer and Jean-Claude on another errand. Soon, he broke off and looked across at Clay. “You should go back to your place and get some rest,” he said. “That is, if you’ve finished your drink!” Both the others laughed quietly. “You look exhausted. Go on. Your vehicle is up in the T-pool.”

“Thanks, boss,” Clay nodded. He turned and made his way wearily back to the vehicle bay. His usual terraglide was parked in its familiar space. How Ahab had arranged that was another question. He wasn’t likely to ask Ahab about it any time soon.

It seemed a long time to Clay before he got back to ‘The Way’ again. The weeks were filled with routine rounds of pickups and drops within the Citizone. He was grateful for whatever Ahab had done to get him out of that lock up. He knew the mistake might have been fatal.

For all that, he was bored. It felt like he’d been reprieved and restored to a life that he no longer really wanted.

Back at base, he ventured to ask Ahab about spares for the damaged Adam-son.

“Why do they want spares for a model that old?”

Clay handed him a note tablet and waited while he scrutinized the columns of electronic code numbers.

“This particular Tran has a lot of studylearn in its memory. It’s stuff they want to try and preserve,” Clay explained. “I just wondered if it’s still possible to get hold of the parts on that list.”

Ahab studied the pad intently for a while. Finally, he looked up and yelled “Archer, c’mere will you.”

Archer emerged from one of the store-chambers, where he’d been rummaging for items on another list. Ahab handed him the pad.

Archer held it up in front of him. After a few seconds he said, “It’s retrospec, but I think they’ve got some of this stuff in the old store buildings at the Transdyne complex. You want I should go over there?”

“Yeah, take Clay with you and load him up, eh?”

Turning back to Clay, Ahab said, “I’ll want something for these kinds of spares - that’s if they’re still around. Tell ‘em five hundred. It’s all pretty much junk you know, but if they want the stuff they’ll pay.”

Clay had been thinking about the next long trip into the Outland. He liked the prospect of seeing those people again, especially Skye. He really wanted to talk with her. The weariness of the journey fell away as he sat eating with John and Rael. When Skye came to join them he couldn’t hide his broad grin. She made room to sit opposite him. When she smiled back it felt good.

The main topic of conversation was about a couple of people who wanted to join the community. The dangers had been explained to them, but they were set on taking the risk. John was guarded about the arrangements to bring them in, but Clay picked up that they were from one of the work camps. Some of the labourers in these places were from locations Clay had never even heard of. Many of them spoke in different languages.

“Trouble is communication,” John said thoughtfully. “As far as we can make out, these two are from a place called Ukraine. There might be no difficulty, but if there is, Skye is about the only one here who’s likely to be able to converse with them. We don’t want to be at cross purposes while we’re trying to get them out. These operations rely on speed and clarity. If people are on different channels it could be a disaster.”

Skye’s linguistic abilities might turn out to be crucial. It seemed that she was going with the party to meet the new people and bring them quietly out here to the community. Clay felt saddened that she would be busy with this mission. He had wanted to spend as much time with her as he could. He made up his mind to make the most of whatever was available. He sat with her as the others got up and drifted away.

“Are you the only one who could go on this trip? Isn’t there anyone else who has the same skills?”

“There might be one or two, but their Ukranian or Russian isn’t that strong. If these people are from the Ukraine they may speak either,” Skye replied. Clay’s anxiety was starting to show. Skye reached out and covered his hand to stop him tapping on the bench in front of him.

“It will be fine,” she said. “They’ve done these things before you know.”

“Last time I was here they gave me a list of the parts they need to try and fix Adam-son. I’ve got them on board,” Clay said. “They’re not heavy. Would you like to help me unload them?”

“Sure,” Skye smiled. “Show me these treasures!”

As they rose from their seats, Clay noticed one of the figures at the food serving area. There was something familiar about the man’s movements. He and Skye passed the serving station on their way to the exit.

The man had his back to them and was talking to Berta. Clay recognized the voice immediately. He stopped and stared in disbelief. “Joey?”

The man turned around quickly. Clay stood dumbfounded.

He was staring into the face of a dead man. “Hello, Clay,” Joey said quietly.

“We have some special cargo to unload,” Skye told him. “Want to help?”

“Sure!” smiled the ghost. Clay just stared. He thought that if he looked away, the face before him might disappear again.

Joey’s story took a while to tell. Sitting quietly at a dining bench, he related all that had happened to him.

Clay wondered why he hadn’t run into Joey on previous visits here? He figured it was a big place and he’d only ever really spent his time around the hub of it. His old colleague probably had assignments at one of the sites further away. Joey sure looked different now. His hair was longer, his face darkly tanned and he was sporting a small beard.

Skye had known Joey for some time as a member of the community.

She had heard his account before. “I’ll leave you together. You’ll have a lot to talk about!” she said. “I’m going to see how things are coming along.”

Joey’s reappearance was still just starting to sink in for Clay though, and he hung on every word.

While he was still working for Ahab, Joey had run across a couple of men who would later make their way out here to the community. Disillusionment with his life and work had eventually become unbearable for him. The more time he had spent with his new companions, the more uncomfortable he had grown with the way things were all around him. He had already decided that there had to be drastic changes in his way of life when they told him about the community at ‘The Way’. Joey had become secretive out of necessity. He had realized that the plans he was making could be jeopardized if anyone but those involved had gotten wind of them. “I wanted to say something to you, but I just couldn’t take the chance. Anyhow, you seemed content where you were. Me? I was going crazy.” His worry had been that Ahab, who seemed to know everything, would find out what he was preparing to do. The shock was that Ahab had already guessed. When he had finally faced the man, he found himself in greater shock. Ahab had known all about his associations and figured out his next move, like the master of the human chessboard that he was.

Joey had known that Ahab would detect any lies. He had gone to meet him prepared to tell him the absolute truth. For the first time that night, Joey had seen something besides the steel in those dark eyes.

He had not expected understanding, from his boss. Yet, he had wound up talking at length with this man; this man who ran the empire Joey had been part of for so long. He had revealed things about himself that Joey wouldn’t have believed before.

A man such as Ahab could never appear to lose face. Joey would simply disappear. To anyone who might wonder how, the iron facade would appear intact. Ahab’s organization was deliberately structured into compartments. Employees in one section were not always made aware of the actions of the next. Information was given out on a ‘need to know’ basis. If Joey wasn’t around anymore it would be because Ahab had made him evaporate. Who was going to ask after him?

Joey had left Ahab’s place with a new start, a chance at another life.

He had known that the future he envisioned wouldn’t be an easy one, but it was all he wanted. “When Ahab let on that he knew, I figured I was history. In my mind I had left long before I actually made the move,” Joey told him. “The others had it all planned really thoroughly. I just helped out with some credits towards supplies and transport. When they finally gave me the word, I jumped at the chance.”

The hours dragged as the volunteer crew made ready. There would be four in all. Casey and Bradford had been on these pickups before. Jansen had accompanied them on their last outing and Skye, with her language skills, was the new member. She had put what she needed in a backpack and was waiting for the others over a coffee when Clay caught up with her again. “Everything set?” he asked. She placed the pack on the bench and patted it. “We have to travel light,” she said.

“I want you to be careful, eh?” Clay said softly. There were so many things he wanted to tell her. He wanted to tell her that she had become important to him; that he thought a lot about her. He knew this wasn’t the time to say it all. She was looking straight at him as he began to stammer something. She held two fingers up to her lips. “Shssh… we’ll talk soon,” she said. “Don’t worry.” He was silent. He knew that he
would
worry. He would worry every moment until this thing was over and she was back safely.

It was nearing time for him to leave as well, but before that he wanted to see Adam-son again. Finding the stairs, he descended into the Tran’s dimly lit chamber. Once again he stood before that strange throne, the sound of the breathing apparatus rising and falling around him.

“I’ve brought some parts that may be useful to you. I hope they will be, anyway!”

“Thank you for your efforts,” came the metallic acknowledgement.

“They tell me that they will be working on me. Perhaps they can rework my visual circuits. In that event you will not have to endure the gloom I currently require.”

Clay took his leave. “I’ll look forward to hearing about the progress when I come again.”