Deep Yellow (16 page)

"I'm new here, I don't
know anything. Please. We don't know anything."

Brookko rubbed the end
of the rifle muzzle over her face, then down between her
breasts.

"A good looking lady,"
Brookko said quietly, almost to himself.

Corbon attached a
device to Drag's ankle to stem the blood flow whilst spraying the
wound with emergency glue. The Corpsman on the floor lifted his
head and looked around. He shifted his elbows and started a
sideways crawl towards Corbon.

Brookko heard a thud,
then felt a piercing pain scrape along the side of his waist.
Turning quickly, he saw Corbon and Drag both lying on the floor and
the Corpsman half kneeling, holding Corbon’s laser pistol in his
hand. Brookko instinctively punched the female, then aimed and
fired at the Corpsman, hitting him in the chest. Running over, he
checked the man was incapacitated and the two idiots were
breathing. It was just him and the female now. He could hear his
father and brother shouting instructions from inside the
warehouse.

He returned to the
female; she was holding her jaw. She punched out and connected with
his mouth, then tried to run away. Brookko shouted and swore in her
direction. Seeing his two colleagues still lying on the floor and
hearing his father's voice shouting, he fired at the woman, slicing
her down.

As he was standing by
the woman's body, his father appeared out of the smoky exit.
Brookko's brother went over to help Drag and Corbon. There was a
heated exchange with his father, whose dirt-streaked face flushed
with rage.

Then it happened, the
thing that Brookko would never forget. His father shot him in the
leg. Incapacitated and stripped of all weapons, they left him at
the back of the warehouse by the two bodies.

***

“The security clips we
have just seen are pretty conclusive of your involvement in the
raid,” Flip said.

“It’s been changed by
the Corps.”

“We found out that you
have a daughter.”

“That is correct.”

“Have you made any
contact with her?”

“You don’t have her
here, do you?”

“No. Does it change
anything, though, knowing you have a child out there
somewhere?”

“Not really. Long time
ago. Don’t think about it.”

“Well, Brookko, it’s
time for your best bits.”

The screen displayed a
montage of Brookko events, finishing with him riding the beast in
the fun challenge.

“Thanks, Brookko.”

“No problem, the
pleasure is all mine.” Brookko smiled and waved his hands at the
audience, who clapped their appreciation.

A bot doc trundled around the stage, injecting
each challenger with two implants. The first was a visual cortex
adaption, enabling the challenger to “see” the holo worlds without
having to wear a head cap. It automatically turns off when the
challenger returns to the real world. The second implant, nicknamed
“the furnace” was the substance that activated when the timer
reached zero.

Flip then showed some
brief interview clips of families, friends, and prison guards
re-counting stories and anecdotes about the challengers, whilst the
cameras relayed facial close-ups. This was just a warm up to
elongate the show, a lot of the material had been presented during
individual interviews already.

Brell watched everyone
wriggle at some point when a relative or friend said something. Her
mother appeared, and all Brell could think about was how dressed up
she was, including a thick layer of makeup. The only word she
remembered was “disappointed.” There were a couple of old
colleagues, both idiots, who said they had seen the signs of her
addiction and behaviour changes and were not surprised she “lost
it.” Brell had recommended one of them for promotion. Fragger. One
of her old prison guards came on and talked about one of Brell’s
fights; by this time, Brell was thinking about the beauty of
slipping into oblivion. She came back to the present when Argenta
said, “Isn’t that right Brell?”

"Yes, probably," Brell
said. She had no idea what the question had been. It was clear that
the programme producers had examined everyone’s life history,
though.

Brell watched the
others go through a similar experience and making one or two word
replies to questions. Grock had not changed in appearance, Kellsa
was very good at school gymnastics, and Carac's sister had disowned
him, Ooma's father made a heartfelt speech about his son getting
involved with the wrong people, whilst Meren sat and smiled through
snippets of her personal life, seemingly unaffected by the vitriol
spoken by the monks.

"Thanks, Argenta.
Later we will test your holo world implants by taking you on a
fifteen minute walk." Flip nodded to the guards.

***

Brell tried to take it
all in. Was everything here alien? The people, buildings,
everything. Nothing travelled in the air, no AG skiffs or scooters,
just ground cars, wheeled contraptions and small two wheeled
vehicles buzzing about, chugging smoke out of its rear pipe. A
wooden style carriage rolled along the centre of the roadway,
following a line of grooves. Its passengers sat inside or held onto
a side pole. It all seemed chaotic. Rubbish lay on the floor, there
were obviously no tidy-up bots.

The “people” were of
various skin colours; white, black, brown, no blue, though. There
were individuals, couples, and seemingly family groups of men,
women, and children. The clothes were a mixture of styles and
fabrics. Drab, multi coloured, long, short, a bit of
everything.

Just a few paces
inside the world she looked back and saw holo people and vehicles
coming out of or disappearing into the wall behind her. There were
numerous grey stone multi-floored buildings with metal stairways on
the side. In the sky, the countdown clock was set to 00:00.

She had seen this
before during her homework but immersion like this was at a
different level. Whilst waiting her turn in the fancy Living Room,
her expectations were low and she expected the type of holo world
that she had used years ago on basic exercises with Police Corps.
Blocky shapes, barriers, corridors, a few good baddy holos, open
spaces, and empty buildings with broken signs suggesting it was a
shop.

Williams welcomed each
challenger, accompanied by a guard, of course, by opening the door
and saying, "Welcome to the streets of San Francisco."

The
guard nudged her in the back to move forward. A couple walked
towards her and she moved to get out of their way but they went
through her. Soft holos. A man held up a dirty cup; his
clothes
were shabby and dishevelled.

"Spare some money," he
said as he shook the cup. He spoke in the main Inhab-47
language.

"Um, Electro credit,
discs, um, coins?" Brell said recalling her phrases.

"Coins," the man
replied.

Brell glanced in his
cup; there were a few dirty metal discs inside.

"Spare some money," he
said as he shook the cup.

Brell leant down,
touched his jacket sleeve, then squeezed his arm; it was solid.

A hard beam holo
generated around a plastic body wearing real clothing. Also, he
could respond to a question, very useful to know. Brell continued
on, spending the remainder of the time just taking it all in.
Everything looked real, but was a clever mixture of soft holographs
for people and vehicles. This was supplemented with plastic bodied,
but cheap basic robots. The security bots must be of a higher
grade, self thinking, possibly. What about the vehicles? She walked
into the roadway allowing vehicles to run through her, until being
struck by a small transporter. It wobbled slightly, before
continuing its programmed path. She rubbed her leg, more from shock
than pain. That was useful to know.

Despite the cuffs and
collar, she felt free and unshackled. The air was warm with a city
smell of people, sugar, dirt, and perfume? Bit like some of the
grotty inner urban places she had patrolled.

There was no
comparison with her holo world equipment in her cell on Wing 90.
Police and Space Corps must have spent some serious credits on this
facility. About time.

She had to pinch
herself to realise that a deadly game would take place in these
worlds. Following a semi-circular route, she ended back in the
Living Room. Williams was standing at the door laughing. Then it
was back to the cells, and hopefully no more interviews or audience
questions.

***

Brell sat on her bed,
cross-legged, listening to the main Inhab-47 language whilst eating
ice cream. A quiet beep sounded in the background; it took a while
to realise it was a recorded message.

"Messages on."

The holo screen popped
up. It was Gorst.

"Pause." She wanted to
savour his face. Hair short and neat, the square lines of his face
aged a little bit, but his eyes still had that twinkle.

"Play."

"Hi, Brell. Yes, it’s
me and yes, I could have been in contact more. Time just passes by,
and with my new promotion, I've been wrapped up in work, as usual.
Look, I know you may turn this off, but I have been watching you on
the show and I just wanted to say that I’m thinking of you. Many of
your old colleagues will be cheering you on. Who could forget you?
Don’t listen to all the crap that they are showing, the interviews
and everything. That’s it.” He paused. "Just wanted to add that I
hope
you are coping well, on your own. You show
them what you are made of. See you. Bye.” With that, he waved his
hand and the message ended.

Brell
replayed the message, analysing every word. “On your own” was a
reference to Deep Yellow and many of their conversations before the
bust up. “You have to cope with things on your own, Brell, rather
than relying on Deep
and intox,” he used to say. It was
starting to become too much for him in the end. Good to see his
face, though.

Whilst eating another
ice cream, Brell casually read some basic information about
Inhab-47's version of the Police Corps. Their technology, weapons,
and ID scanning were not a patch on that used by the Corps; some
things were the same whichever galaxy you were in. Domestic
violence was one such example. Brell laughed as she remembered
attending an argument between two virtual assistants, left in
charge of a dwelling, whilst the owner was away on holiday. Their
loud arguments had disturbed the neighbours. She found a technician
to turn a power console off and left a data note for the owner to
sort out the character settings. It wasn’t the most memorable
domestic incident though, that occurred when she had been promoted
to Inspector.

"Zone 2 patrol. Please attend Pod 122, Sub
Level 5, Zone 2, a fight believed domestic circumstances, laser
weapons used. Corridor cam shows a male and female arguing outside.
ID's unclear. No history of previous incidents."

"Received by Zone 2
patrol. On way. Out."

***

"Control from 2
patrol, urgent assistance, colleague hurt, lasers involved."

"Laser Response Team 2
and Duty Inspector, proceed to Pod 122, Sub Level 5, Zone 2.
Officers injured.”

"Laser Response 2 on
way."

"Inspector Sturlach on
way."

Brell's office
consisted of a small command pod situated inside a mobile
neighbourhood Corps station. Every week, the mobile station was
hoisted onto a transporter and driven to an adjoining
neighbourhood. For the last two days, it sat at one end of
Association Square, a concreted area surrounded on all four sides
by tall dwelling tower blocks. The neighbourhood was occupied
mainly by workers and their families, due to the huge factories
nearby. Factory managers and clerks tended to live in the greener,
safer areas situated a few kilometres away.

Brell buckled on her
belt, checked her equipment, and turned off her screens. She opened
the office door and strode across the public area. The virtual and
real advice booths both had queues, and Brell quickly got outside
before someone tried to ask her a question.

"Most of the
neighbourhoods are shit holes here," the Corps Area Commander had
said to Brell on her first day in the rank of Inspector.

"Just keep the lid on
things, and that includes the officers as well as the locals."

As she approached her
Inspector’s Command Vehicle, it automatically unlocked and the
glide engine started up. Once the location was locked in and the
autopilot activated, the vehicle sped off. Brell sat back in her
seat, reading all the information about the incident, its location,
and the officers attending. The vehicle sped along, weaving in
between the giant pillars of the tower block foundations and
continued along a main thoroughfare, overtaking when safe to do so.
The holo warning signs flashed in front and above the vehicle
whilst its three tone siren whooped and wailed.

***

The vehicle came to a
stop by the lower ground level entrance. Brell got out of the
vehicle, but paused, weighing up the options. The officers were in
trouble on Sub Level 5 and needed an immediate response, but
rushing down there on her own could endanger herself. She would
wait for backup.

"Control. Inspector
Sturlach at ground level. Awaiting Laser Team."

"Received in control.
Cam and comms have malfunctioned, there are no updates from
officers. Medicos are on way."

The sound of a siren
grew louder, and then around the corner came a Laser Team's
transporter. It was basically a fully gliding rectangular box
comprising of crew seats, storage, comms unit, and an impressive
array of weapons. An armour-wearing officer stepped out of the
front seat and approached Brell.