Deep Yellow (37 page)

Brell waited, then
crept down the empty row, and quickly peering over the top, she
shoulder pushed a machine, toppling it over onto the bot. Its
reaction was to press the netting device, which shot out across the
floor. Checking back and forth for any more bots, she strode along
the machines reaching a group of green-covered tables that had a
spinning wheel set into one end. The singing voice sounded much
louder now, and as Brell picked her way forward, she tried to
understand the words.

"Viva Las Vegas," the
man sang repeatedly. One hand held a small metal tube towards his
mouth; a microphone? His other hand moved animatedly in tune with
the music beat. Dressed exactly the same as Williams' assistant,
Brell looked him up and down.

A key hung around his
neck.

Again, no sign of any
bots; the people meandering around obscured her view. She jumped up
onto the stage and grabbed the key, breaking the linked chain
necklace. The weight and look of the key felt genuine as she put it
in her pocket.

Look under the Tower,
then for une chemise.

The shirt. She stepped
off the stage, whilst looking around for a something to do with a
shirt by an exit door or similar. A blow from the side brought her
heavily to the floor face down. She was pinned down, breath forced
out of her lungs. Knees dug into her back and thigh, then hands
moved down from her shoulders to her backside. Laughter.

"Well, well, Captain
bluey, it comes to this," Carac said. He sounded elated.

"Not only do you have
the key, but I get to hold another prize as well."

Face pushed into the
floor, she tried to stare up at him.

"Nearly missed you,
what with your uniform. You’re not Police Corps now. You’re
nothing, just a blue bitch. A loser!" He continued to stroke her
backside.

"You see, bluey, this
is it. Just a few minutes to go. I would like to stay and play
longer, but there are things I need to do, like winning this
challenge. This damn challenge." He patted her thigh.

"You know, I hate
these worlds. Who would want to visit Inhab-47? Dirty, backward,
food, well you can't call it food. I am going off subject. Now,
where is the key?" He moved his hand around her backside, closing
his eyes briefly.

"Ah," Carac said.

"It’s not the real
key. A Williams joke, I was wrong," Brell said, managing to talk
out of the side of her mouth.

Carac placed both his
hands onto her back and pushed himself backwards so he could
comfortably kneel on the floor. He kept hand pressure on her back
with both hands whilst glancing around.

"Does it have any
writing on it?"

"Check it for
yourself."

She sensed Carac’s
hesitation as he shifted the weight on his knees. Her right hand
had lain alongside her body throughout the confrontation. Now that
he had moved his position, she moved her fingers slowly towards her
belt.

"It’s in my left
pocket," she said.

Carac looked down as
he started trying to feel around the front of her trousers.

Brell suddenly pulled
her left knee up whilst rolling over. Carac, taken by surprise,
reached forward. Brell continued to roll over onto her back,
freeing her right arm. She swung the baton upwards, levering at the
elbow to gain as much energy as possible. It struck his left knee,
not too heavily, but it caused hesitation. Straightening her body
she rolled back towards Carac, forcing her body weight onto his
thighs, making him flop backwards awkwardly. Quickly getting to her
feet, she kicked towards his body whilst he was still floundering
and connected with the side of his leg.

"Viva Las Vegas," she
shouted back.

Come on, Scrivvens. Brune sat helplessly,
watching the events unfold. An old colleague a few minutes from
death on a live entertainment show. A show in which Brell was not
meant to win. Was there still time to intervene? It all hinged on
Scrivvens.

He knew his promotion
prospects would be jeopardised if he did something to interfere
with the show. What about his wife and children's future?

With ten minutes to
go, it was unbearable to watch. Nevertheless, he clapped as he saw
Brell kick Carac and run off. She had the key, but was it the right
one? He had long given up trying to solve the clues let alone
understand the Inhab-47 worlds.

‘
Chime,
chime
.’

A screen displayed
Scrivvens’ face.

"Yes," Brune said,
trying, but failing to disguise his nerves.

"Sir. I’ve found
Technician 22’s communication code and pathways; the encryption is
the usual military standard. Having difficulty reaching security
bot core instructions. However, the Technicians attention is on the
live action, not on any security breaches."

"Throw everything at
it. Not much time left," Brune said, realising he had been holding
his breath.

"Sir." Scrivvens
display faded.

"Come on, Scrivvens,"
Brune muttered under his breath.

***

Mayleth had difficulty
watching the screens. Carac had been kicked by the blue one and was
seriously in danger of losing. Despite all the help, including
being selected for the Challenge, it all came down to the last ten
minutes.

Ayleth was asleep,
having given up long while ago and taken a “knock out” tablet.
Mayleth drank some lukewarm liquid and half-smiled over at one of
her assistants whilst toying with her necklace. The next few
minutes would seal their future. She glanced at the door. Would
that burly commander be knocking on their door soon, or had the
Tinker organised something for them? He must have others in his
employ, not just Technician 22. And all because of her brother’s
gambling debts. At least the correct holo world location had been
confirmed by Williams’ replacement, but he had fended off giving
the exit location. Must be some unwritten rule; perhaps she should
have pushed him a bit harder. However, on a live show, though, it
would always be tricky replacing the director of operations a
second time. She thought that with Williams out of the way, they
could ensure greater control over events.

Fiddling with her
necklace again, she stared at the screens. Come on, Carac.

***

The Tinker crossed his
arms and bit his lower lip. He glanced at the latest Locardum ore
prices, Carac fumbling about, and then at the Twins in their
office.

“Regg. Contact Mack,
tell him to get his crew ready and await further instructions.”

“Yes sir.”

***

After striking Carac,
Brell felt her pocket to make sure the key was still there. Where
next? She felt sure that “
une chemise
” was linked to this
casino building due to the Paris language influences. Would
Williams make the exit so far away from the key? She gained the
impression that he did not wholly enjoy the idea of entertainment
involving death, so ensuring at least one person survived would be
his motivation.

Crouching, she moved
around the winking gambling machines, working her way into the
building itself. There was a loud
ching
noise, followed by
some cheers; someone was having luck. Carac had received a fair
kick, but it would not stop him. Just past some more gambling
tables with people peering at small cardboard pictures, Brell
reached a wide walkway stretching left and right from her position.
Two directions, nine minutes.

To the left was a
cobbled street scene, with ornate street lamps and a large round
water fountain. Beyond the street appeared to be shops, judging by
the signs. To her right was a carpeted walkway leading to a large
empty room and a long row of glass doors at the far end. It looked
like an exit out of the building. The shops would be the best
choice, rather than returning back through the casino floor or to
an exit.

As she sprinted to her
left, there was a loud crash and glancing behind, two security
transporters crashed through the glass doors. Both vehicles drove
straight towards her. Quickening her pace, she ran into the street
area feeling the hard stone effect flooring underfoot. The water
fountain was just ahead. Trusting it was a hard beam object, she
jumped up towards the ledge, relieved when her feet settled on a
solid surface. She scrambled up onto the second ledge; the water
was just a light effect.

The first transporter,
crashed into the fountain base, carrying it along for a few metres
before smashing into a sidewall. Glass and plas-steel billowed
everywhere as Brell toppled sideways onto the ground, wrenching her
ankle. The transporter dug itself into the wall having skewed
around, away from where Brell now lay. The second transporter
stopped in time and disgorged its passengers. She pulled herself up
and limped forward.

P-zap
.

A hole erupted in the
side of the wall next to her head. A team of security bots ran
towards her, with zappers in hand, the sound of their clunking
boots echoing off the walls.

P-zap
.

She limped to the end
of the street and into a “town square”. Quickly bearing left, she
leant against a wall whilst keenly examining everything for a clue,
a shirt, or anything. It was a medium sized square lined with shops
and unusually there were no holos walking around. In one corner was
a small stage with velvet curtains at the rear. A short sturdy
woman stood onstage singing emotionally in the Paris language.
Raising an arm, she sang “
je ne regrette rien
”; I regret
nothing.

She dragged herself
further along into the square, desperately looking around. The
security bots appeared and spread out in a line. With their eyes
locked onto her, they walked forward very slowly.

Across the square was
her lifeline.

The clue, the exit
door it must be. Might as well have Williams written all over it.
Hanging in the window of a shop named, “
Soohan’s Chemise
Emporium
” was a huge, colourful shirt, just like the ones
Williams owned. In fact, it was a larger version of the shirt he
wore during their first meeting in prison. He must have worn it
when visiting all the others. The shop door had a keyhole.

P-zap
.

Feeling an intense
pain in her legs, she dropped straight to the floor, on her back.
Apart from the searing pain in her unresponsive legs, she glanced
down her body and saw her feet entangled in a net.

Carac stepped out from
between the security bots and loomed over her, holding a zapper,
smiling.

"Me again."

***

With five minutes to
go, Meren danced. She had stopped looking at the countdown and
instead enjoyed the moment. At first, she stood beside the people
dancing, just holding the hem of her dress, swaying to the music.
There were some men sitting, watching, and after waving her hand
through the holos, she put her hand on the shoulder of a smiling
man.

"Dance?" Meren
said.

"Dance," the holo
said.

Meren led him to the
middle of the dance area. Copying the others, she held him around
his waist and was happy when he did the same. He copied her dancing
movements.

"What’s your
name?"

"Dance," the holo
said.

“Can’t have
everything,” Meren said.

She clung closer to
him, letting the music, the movement, the fresh air release her
from the growing warmth spreading in her stomach.

“I am free,” she said
softly.

***

Brell tried moving her
legs, without success. Pushing herself up, she supported her upper
body weight by placing both hands on the floor behind. She started
to shuffle on her backside across the square whilst shaking her
unresponsive legs, her stomach starting to feel mildly warm.

Just under five
minutes left.

"Well, time to get the
key and get out of here. Back to the studio, freedom, and some
proper food."

Brell strained her
back forward in an effort to unpick the netting.

"Found the exit door
yet?" Carac said.

Brell remained
silent.

"It’s here, isn’t it?
Let me see, now." Carac looked around and across at the range of
shops.

"Stage, no, sparkling
jewels, no. Oh, yes, of course. You can’t miss it. Chemise. That
large shirt in the window. Williams wears them all the time, yes,
that's what you were looking at?"

He stepped
forward.

"Not taking any
chances, now. Have a good sleep. You won’t even wake up."

He pointed the zapper
at her chest and pressed the button. Brell went limp, her upper
body smacking down onto the floor. Working his hands over her, he
smiled when he felt the key in her trouser pocket.

"Bye bye captain." He
bent down, kissed her on the lips, then turned towards the exit
door.

Brell opened her eyes
and saw two things. Carac heading in the direction of the exit door
waving at the camera, and the security bots. They were standing
still, frozen in their last position. She knew that the zapper
Carac used had run out of energy, as the zap felt like a mild
static electricity jolt. Only her lower legs were numb. She sat up
as silently as possible, wiped her mouth, and twisted the net off
her feet. Shaking her legs, a slight feeling returned, so she
grabbed the trousers of a nearby bot and dragged herself
onto her knees.

She drew the zapper
out of the bots holster and leaning on its body, pulled herself up
some more. Raising the weapon, she aimed it at the bulkiest part of
Carac, his chest. Was he in range? Time to find out.

A clear view of him
came into sight. She fired, but he kept on walking. Missed. She
fired again and this time the bluish bolt struck the side of his
waist. He stopped, rubbed his side, glanced back, and hobbled
towards the exit door. Brell levered herself up and staggered after
him. Enough sensation had returned in her left leg to drag the
right one along. Barely aware of the pain in her ankle, she pulled
herself forwards by grabbing the clothing of a security bot, then
hand by hand worked her way from bot to bot until reaching the last
one. She snatched a zapper out of its holster.