Deep Yellow (18 page)

"How old is she?"

"Eleven."

***

The girl was the same
age as Kellsa had been when witnessing her first killing. Her early
years were spent surviving on the boulevards and back alleys
outside the city. The killing occurred during her school lunchtime;
or it would have been, if she had gone to school that day.
Preferring instead to hang around other teens and gangs, life on
the streets was more exciting than school. Though good at
gymnastics and bright by local standards, the allure of danger was
too strong. Her favourite place became the bombed-out ruins of the
Cathedral of Heights. Often climbing to the top to overlook the
city, she would daydream about gaining enough credits to get out of
the area. She climbed back down to the reality that she would
always have to hustle and fight her way to get anywhere. The
children's home would only ever be a temporary place, the staff
unable to keep the teens in check were grateful for the day when
the youths turned sixteen. As one exited, another would arrive.
Kellsa knew that she would make the decision to leave on her own
terms.

***

"What about your
family?" Argenta said.

"No family. The gang
were my family."

"That must have
involved some nasty incidents."

"Nasty." Kellsa
laughed, "very nasty."

***

The first killing she
saw was only supposed to have been a robbery. She acted as lookout
whilst Fleba and Bib hassled, then stunned a lone male who should
never have stumbled into the area. He fought back, kicked out at
Bib, so Fleba slid a knife in his back. The three of them watched
the incapacitated man slowly bleed to death, transfixed by the
sight. Once dead, Fleba searched him and divvied up the credits.
The wallet contained an expensive holographic display of the dead
man with a woman and two smiling children.

When compared to other
cities around the Galaxy, Colony 09 was not a “go to” place. The
Galaxy Traveller’s Guide referred to the place as a “rebuilt
bombsite.”

Much of Colony 09's
dwelling pods consisted of stacked portable containers placed
amongst century old ruins. Shopping areas were located in concrete
and metal underground bunkers due to crime problems. The Colony
Elders had worked hard to make the city centre safe, in order to
attract businesses and visitors. It became a walled city consisting
of office blocks, hotels, dwelling apartments, and upmarket shops.
Security inside and at the four gates was very tight with ID
scanners, drones, cams, and regular Police Corps patrols. As the
light started to fade, Kellsa enjoyed watching the tall blocks and
dwelling towers lighting up against the dull lamps in the
surrounding suburbs. The wall beam that snaked around the old
buildings softly glowed as darkness drew in.

***

"We know from your
Police Corps record that you murdered someone when you were
fifteen. Tell us about it." Argenta said, her face tilted at a
‘take me serious’ angle.

"The Corpsters have it
all wrong. I was there, but someone else did it."

***

By killing someone on
her own, apart from testing her confidence, it would help improve
her standing with the gang; otherwise, she would become an outcast.
There wasn't anywhere lower than becoming outcast in the ruins of
Colony 09. The death was quick though, as she used a guided pencil
laser that a friend had loaned her. As the man stepped out of his
transporter, she zeroed in on his heart area and pressed the button
without pausing. He would not have felt much, and died in the time
it took to walk over to him. One of the older boys, who acted as a
witness to Kellsa’s actions, pulled the body out of the way and
took off in the man's transporter. After that Kellsa, became a
fully-fledged gang member, able to hold some sway over the group.
Her tribal cheek tattoo solidified her loyalty. She kept aloof,
dangerous, and was not one to strike up a conversation. It created
a certain aura and tension, which she enjoyed.

***

"As you got older, I
believe, you moved into the city. What work did you do?" Argenta
said.

"Freelance security
work."

***

She remembered the
scent used in the fake garden at the rear area of the cafe.
Situated in an upmarket street, it was a drinking place used by
bankers. He sat in the corner, drinking on his own, staring into
the holo garden screens whilst tapping on his personal notepad.

"Hello." Kellsa
said.

"Do I know you?"

"No. But my friend
knows you."

"I'm sorry, what are
you talking about?"

"I have a small dart
in my hand. All I have to do is prick your skin with it."

"You what? Sorry, are
you threatening me? What is this all about?"

"Yes, I am threatening
you. Nishaa says, don't contact me again.”

"Nishaa, that scraggy,
sorry mistake for a woman." The man got up to leave.

Kellsa, stabbed him in
the thigh.

"Ow, what? You stabbed
me." The man sat down again. "What was it?" He breathed heavily
now, rubbing his leg.

"A lethal concoction.
Takes ten minutes. I have an antidote though."

"Lethal?" The man
stood up and rubbed his thigh. His eyes were wide. "What did Nishaa
say?"

"She does not want you
to contact her or stalk her, by any real or virtual means, again,
ever. Got it?” Kellsa got up and walked away.

"You, you can't walk
away. I need the antidote, don't I? Unless this is all a joke?"

"It's not a joke.
Eight minutes. Feeling sick yet?" Kellsa continued to walk.

The man held his head,
then his stomach. "Okay, okay. I won't contact her."

Kellsa came back and
stood directly in front of him.

"Say that again, like
you mean it," Kellsa said whilst turning on her image recorder.

"Nishaa, I will not
contact you again. Sorry, and all that." Outstretching his hands,
he said, "Is that enough for you?"

"Again, but put more
effort into it this time. Seven minutes. Bowels feeling loose?"

The man put one hand
on his stomach and one on his backside. He then made a passionate
promise to Nishaa.

Kellsa nodded and
threw a plastic tube containing an antidote tablet on the ground.
Before walking out of the garden, Kellsa glanced back to see the
man scrabbling on the floor desperately trying to prise open the
tube with shaking hands.

Gaining a name and
respect amongst certain city dwellers, she became able to rent a
small apartment. She dressed sensibly in order to merge into the
city background and learnt to adapt her normally abrasive
behaviour. Softening her voice when necessary, she also applied
skin enhancers to hide her tattoos. A small real and hard holo
workout centre kept her fit, only satisfied when her olive skin
glowed with sweat. Relationships were difficult, preferring one
night stands, but never with the same person.

***

"I just wanted to ask
you about the politician’s murder, the one you got your life
sentence for. We have some stream clips as well. What can you
remember about it?"

"Nothing much, I just
helped out. The Corps blamed me for everything."

***

It was a double cross
from start to finish. The request was from her usual agent, a shop
worker go between, from one of the outer districts. The target was
a woman, fifty years old, weathered face, from off-world, no
visible security around her. Kellsa was uninterested in the
reasons. It will be a nice big payout, perhaps enough credits to
buy a larger apartment.

In the shadows of the
cityscape and the only high-end real and virtual shop area, she
tailed the woman. The target’s life consisted of leaving the
apartment and taking a glide bus to a tall office building. Lunch
was eaten at an upmarket real person diner, then back to the office
and later home. The instructions were that the assassination had to
“look like an accident.” Fine, but Kellsa was unwilling to shoot a
medical drug at her in the street; too much security tech, her
false ID implant could be a weak point. The apartment was the best
location, make it messy then leave a note. Kellsa spent a few days
watching the apartment at differing times of the day from the
safety of an empty stacked living pod. Scanning the security
systems, the best approach would be from the outside using a remote
controlled silent laser dart.

The sun was setting as
Kellsa kneeled on the hard roof surface. She had no problem getting
the service lift, and cloning security codes was straightforward.
It was windy with clear skies and no smog. She threw a remote drone
over the roof and steadied it, panning for the window with the
large-leafed plant on the balcony. The silent drone manoeuvred down
and over the balcony rail, dropping a fraction to scan inside the
window. The target sat in a chair, surrounded by multiple screens,
holding an animated conversation. Kellsa watched and waited, whilst
judging the woman, weighing up the right time to strike.

Setting the drone on
auto, she sent the laser dart up in the air to follow the drones
trail. When ready, she pressed a button. A thin arm extracted
itself out of the drone and tapped the window repeatedly to gain
the woman's attention. She saw her look back at the window, then
towards the screens as if saying she would return in a minute.
Kellsa zoomed in on the woman's forehead, locked it into the dart
display screen, and hit “go.”

As soon as the woman
opened the balcony window, the dart detected exposed skin and
flashed forward, burying itself inside the woman's brain. A small,
limited explosion then detonated, and the woman was dead before she
hit the floor. Kellsa continued to view the inside of the apartment
in case anyone appeared. Someone on the display screen had
witnessed it, good. Recalling the drone, she packed it away,
checked around the roof area in case she had missed anything, and
made her way to the security lift.

Unfortunately, as the
service lift opened on the basement level, six laser rifles were
aimed at her forehead. Quite a while later, she found out it was a
set-up. The target was an off-world AidHelp activist trying to
secure funding for the regeneration of Colony 09's poorer areas. If
Kellsa had taken an interest in the news channels, she would be
aware of local objections to the plan. Keeping the status quo was
important to local crime gangs and some of their business friends.
Many of the proposed plans were in Kellsa’s old neighbourhoods. An
off-world freelancer had been hired to spy on Kellsa. As soon as
the contract was completed and Kellsa was packing up her equipment
on the roof, they anonymously tipped off Police Corps. It suited
the crime gang to keep Kellsa alive, being a local colonist from
one of the poorer parts of the city.

***

"The politician was
attempting to bring credits into your home area, if you had read
the news channels, the credits raised would have helped rebuild the
ruins and children's home where you lived. We've shown the clips of
you on the roof and getting arrested," Argenta said.

Kellsa shrugged her
shoulders. Argenta looked out over the audience and examined her
notepad.

"Finally, what do you
say to the girl who asked you which gang to join?"

"Go to school."

The day before the first challenge arrived. The
proposed "last supper" with all the challengers sitting together
was cancelled in favour of free association and a buffet lunch. Not
much association actually occurred, but the viewers, gamblers, and
gossips used it to pick their favourites. A religious celebration
was held, which only Meren attended. It wasn't Jayzan, but she
politely listened to the preacher. Mostly, the challengers spent
time in deep thought in their cells, eating favourite foods and
recording or writing messages. Grock studied the homework cubes
again, Carac recorded numerous messages, and Brookko paced back and
forth, talking to himself.

***

Williams found some
time to relax in his personal room whilst his assistant finished
some mundane tasks. With a beer and a smoke, he watched the live
feeds of the challengers settling into their cells for the last
evening. The show had come a long way since the first discussions,
especially regarding the list of potential challengers. Media
consultants suggested just mad, bad argumentative inmates, as
“that's what an audience wants these days.” The Twins had made some
initial suggestions, but once three of their “candidates” were
accepted, there was little further discussion and left Williams to
get on with finding the other challengers. They all had something
to offer an audience, even before the actual challenges. Kellsa,
for example, spent a lot of time in various stages of undress in
her cell, which had boosted ratings. Brookko was entertaining
enough just being himself.

Williams reclined his
chair a fraction and blew a smoke ring up to the ceiling. Having
long ago reconciled himself with the fact that six people will face
termination, he remembered the shift towards these types of
"justice" shows a few years ago. In the near future, it would no
doubt shift back to more family oriented entertainment. At least on
this show, one person would gain their freedom.

***

Brell was practising
some last-minute language skills when the beam door chimed. She
faced the door, wrists held up in front of her. As the beam
disengaged, a stocky Bermian stood just outside. Brell looked him
up and down; smart creased uniform, limited expression that changed
into a slight smile. Brune! An older version of the young rookie
with whom she had stopped Carac years ago. What was he doing
here?

"Hello Brell, remember
me?" he said in his monotone voice. Brell quickly adjusted her
hearing back into Association language.