Hurt World One and the Zombie Rats (21 page)

With a small eruption within the pipe running
into the dark room of concrete, the capsule arrived. The hatch on
top of the pipe hummed as it opened automatically. Natalie stepped
out, looking only as disheveled as if she had been dancing a wild
night of Flamenco.

‘Hi mum,’ she said, eyes beaming, rushing
forward to embrace Nirajo.

The embrace was tight but it was Nirajo who
released first. ‘Why have you come back?’

Natalie smirked. ‘Because I missed you so
much. And Uncle Meltman too.’

Nirajo slapped her hard across the face.
Natalie took it and grinned. She looked at the nervously shuffling
bodyguards who accompanied Nirajo wherever she went, though not
necessarily in as great a number as this. Would one of you boys
kindly fetch my luggage? Be careful with it, its fragile.’ She
looked back to her mother who, as a result of an extensive program
of fetus sculpting, bore no physical resemblance. ‘Uncle Meltman
didn’t come to meet me?’

‘He’s busy. He says he will meet you at
dinner.’

‘What time will that be?’

‘You really have been away a long time. Have
you forgotten that time does not exist in the bowels of Asylum
City?’

19 Death on the crew list

Space Weaver 180f
was
printed on the giant rocket in bold black letters, a different
language for each side. Perhaps it was out of diplomacy that the
air shuttle pilot chose the English side to pass on now. Her two
passengers, Renaissance and Spiros Pardos, were gaping at the craft
surely enough, but not for the same reasons as most visitors to the
Belgium headquarters of the European Space Union. Rather than
seeing some grand adventure in interstellar travel about to begin
from its launch site, to them it was the likely escape route of a
criminal they dearly wanted to apprehend. Such an impressive ship,
but it was almost as mysterious as its destination trillions of
kilometres away.

‘Is it on schedule?’ Renaissance queried.

‘Sure is,’ replied the pilot. ‘Europe’s best
scientists and computers have been working ten years on the
project. And it is led by the European Space Commissioner herself.
We are going to her own personal docking bay. I trust you will not
be offended when I say I have been instructed to leave the engine
running. This is a very important time for her.’

‘The engines of our jet have been left
running too,’ snapped Renaissance. ‘I understand there are many
world leaders interested in shaking the Commissioner’s hand at the
moment, but I assure you this is not a social visit.’

The remainder of the short flight that had
begun from the United Nation’s Geneva HQ transpired in silence. The
docking bay was located at a centre point in the launch site’s
administrative tower and with its thick layers of heavy steel more
resembled a bunker. The shuttle’s main door opened to a brightly
lit walkway and a pretty, smiling attendant dressed in the Space
Union’s cherry red formal wear.

Renaissance and Pardos tucked their
briefcases underarm and descended the steps to the docking bay
floor. The attendant smiled with glossy red lips. ‘The Commissioner
has postponed a meeting in order to fit you in. She would not
normally do that. She is a stickler for maintaining schedules. Did
you know that after ten years the Space Weaver 180f mission is
precisely on schedule?’

Pardos chuckled sardonically. ‘No, but we do
know what a schedule is.’

The attendant’s smile didn’t slip. ‘This way,
please.’ She led them from the docking bay into an elevator that
had been held open for them. When the doors closed, the roar of the
shuttle’s jet engines was replaced by a luxurious, sweet smelling
quiet. The attendant pressed the top number on the elevator’s
console, fifty seven. ‘If you would like any refreshments in the
meeting, I can order ahead,’ she said.

Both Renaissance and Pardos declined the
offer. The elevator reached its floor and the attendant led with
her hips on the journey down a corridor of large glass-walled
laboratories to a door at the end marked
Final
Approvals
. Geth Barzius was inside, peering down a
microscope on a shiny metal table. She did not look up as the
attendant announced Renaissance and Pardos’s arrival.

‘Excuse me a moment,’ she said, her head
remaining perfectly still. ‘This is one of those tasks that is
literally tiny, but that could make or break a future colony.’ She
returned to a deep concentration before finally straightening her
rounded back and looking over Renaissance and Pardos. ‘You see,
bacteria and viruses keep our immune systems from turning against
our bodies. So we must include some on the voyage. Our specialists
have manufactured pathogens that will engage the immune system
without any toxic effects. Although we are confident in the
technology, the great danger lies in mutation. A harmless bug today
can so easily turn into a killer bug tomorrow. That has always been
the way of nature. It happens to people too and that’s where the
psychologists earn their salaries.’

‘And that’s why we’re here,’ said
Renaissance, sternly folding her arms. ‘We believe there may be a
passenger on the flight list that is in fact an extremely dangerous
criminal.’

‘Criminality is screened for during the
application stage and there was nothing remarkable flagged. Unpaid
debts was as bad as it got. That, of course, is not including the
crimes we were not already aware of. And I have to admit some of
those were quite significant.’

‘Her real identity is not on your files. And
she has not yet had her day in court. That is why we are here.’

Barzius studied Renaissance very much in the
manner she had been doing down her microscope. ‘Very well, a name
then.’

‘Mas. She is a poacher.’

‘A poacher? I can recall five hundred names
of both successful and unsuccessful candidates and I am confident
the name Mas was not amongst them.’

‘No doubt your identity validation systems
are state-of-the-art, but Mas could surely beat them. She is a
counter-tech expert.’

‘Do you have a photo at least?’

Renaissance shook her head. ‘She is not on
the System. We are trying, but at this stage we know very little
about her.’

‘Then why are you so sure she will be on the
Space Weaver?’

‘We’ve been tracking communications.’

‘Of someone you don’t even know what she
looks like?’

‘That’s right. We’ve tracked the
communication to and away from her.’

Barzius walked to the window and gazed out at
the Space Weaver. ‘When I stood in this spot two years ago, all I
had was a dream. Look at the view now.’ She took in a deep breath
as though she were trying to inhale the view as well see it. She
gave Renaissance a half-glance. ‘I agreed to meet you without
hesitation. Belgium is the home of the United Nations, is it not?
And the Hurt World is an important part of that. On this occasion,
however, I am puzzled as to actually how I can be of
assistance.’

‘We would like access to the Space Weaver
personnel list. We are quite certain Mas will be on it. Our
analysis team may be able to sniff her out.’

‘I’m afraid I cannot allow that. Not without
a court order and only the Supreme Judge of the World Court can
grant you that.’

Renaissance stiffened. ‘Surely you don’t want
a killer on your expedition?’

‘Is she a killer? You have just said she has
yet to have her day in court. That means we must consider her
innocent. Obviously she has been up to no good or else you wouldn’t
have taken the time to come all this way. I have no doubt about
that. But she may be just the type of person we need in this
mission. Hard, nasty people can be the most resilient. And on top
of that she must also be extremely resourceful to have confounded
such thoroughly committed pursuers as yourselves.’

‘We are not confounded,’ snapped Pardos.

‘Views depend on where you are standing.’
Barzius glanced at her wrist computer. ‘Unfortunately I must get
back to worrying about mutations. I appreciate your concerns over
mission security and I will have the team in charge review the
personnel list one more time. They have certainly had their hands
full. You wouldn’t believe how many extremist groups perceive deep
space colonisation as an affront to their religious beliefs. They
would love nothing more than to blow the Space Weaver and all
inside it to smithereens. Now, if we could establish a new colony
that leaves such a mindset as that far behind on Earth, to me that
would be a worthy achievement.’

‘I’m afraid building the rocket is probably
the easier part of the dream,’ said Renaissance, moving for the
door. ‘I appreciate your time.’

The attendant was waiting outside the
laboratory to escort the two visitors back to the shuttle. Pardos
knew it was better not to talk while she was in earshot but he
simply didn’t have the patience to wait.

‘Should we get that court order?’ he snapped.
‘I think she underestimates what the Chief of Lawyers is capable
of.’

Renaissance thought twice about replying only
to decide an uncomfortable silence would be a worse situation. ‘The
space program is allowed certain latitude that may well see our
application delayed or even rejected out of hand. That would be
embarrassing to say the least. Who knows where this case may end
but we do not want to go to court with the Supreme Court Judge
having already made a ruling against us.’

Pardos frowned. ‘I see.’

‘Of course, if Mas does start killing a few
people, it will result in a more sympathetic hearing for our
application. Our priority, however, is to try and stop her before
that occurs. Wouldn’t you agree?’

‘I would. How do you rate our chances?’

This time Renaissance did opt for an
uncomfortable silence.

20 Fatal view

The speedboat was skimming over the rolling
waves off the coast of Las Gabos. A paraglider named Sergeant Rick
was being towed behind, high above the turquoise waters of the
Pacific Ocean, the lightweight canopy khaki and his uniform the
black of the United Nation’s Peace Keeper Corps. Rick was using his
wrist computer to take reconnaissance images and readings of the
industrial complex that was coming on fast. Although his thermal
readings were telling him there were no people in the vicinity, the
scanners were picking up the presence of rats scattered about the
complex, the biggest rats he had ever seen.

‘Are you catching this?’ he said into his
mike. ‘Those rodents are so big they could wear a saddle.’

Rojas Hose was in the cockpit of the
speedboat and glanced up at him with his binoculars. The
paraglider’s helmet and goggles were concealing the revulsion upon
his face that was clearly detectable in his voice. ‘Are you sure
they’re the only lifeforms you’re detecting?’ he queried into his
headset mike. ‘Where there are rats, there are usually humans. It’s
one of humankind’s most enduring relationships.’

‘I’ll repeat the scans.’

‘Please do.’ Rojas gave him a wave of
encouragement and returned his attention out the cockpit windscreen
ahead. He was sitting beside the speedboat driver, Corporal Sodan.
He had decided to take Renaissance’s advice and get out of the
office, and in this case it made perfect operational sense. It was
clear they were running one step behind Mas and whatever scheme she
was embroiled in and it would take a giant leap to get out ahead.
Perhaps this abandoned industrial site held some sign or clue. It
was one of the points of the triangle. It had been put to use in
some way or another. Rojas suspected the purpose had been
completed, the site scrubbed clean and abandoned. But all it took
was one scrap of evidence left behind, one small thing overlooked.
It mightn’t be easy to find but if Rojas really was one of the best
analysts in the business, this was where he needed to show it.

‘Looks like we are safe to make landfall,’ he
shouted to Sodan over the headset. ‘Take us to the pier.’

‘Roger that,’ Sodan replied. ‘ETA four
minutes.’

‘Second scan complete,’ came the paraglider
over the airwaves. ‘It’s confirmed, rats is all there is.’

‘Understood.’ Rojas stood up and leaned over
the windscreen, revelling in the wind hitting his face. He took out
his camera and began snapping pitches of the grain silos. For some
reason they interested him. He didn’t know why. Perhaps it was
because his instincts were telling him that whatever had taken
place at this site, the silos were at the heart of it.

‘Explosives readings for the site have just
come in,’ returned the paraglider in a suddenly tense voice.

‘And?’

‘We need to turn round.’

Rojas and the speedboat driver looked at each
other.

‘Hold on,’ cried Sodan He went hard at the
steering wheel, executing a gut wrenching turn that flung Rojas
back into his seat. The explosion within the industrial park came
barely an instant later and was massive. Only the protective glass
around the cockpit saved the two men in the speedboat from the
horizontal spray of shrapnel. The paraglider, however, was
completely exposed. He screamed in agony as tiny shards of metal
ripped through him like bullets. The blood resembled red streamers
fluttering behind as the speedboat reached top speed in its
retreat.

‘We should stop,’ said Rojas, looking up

‘Not yet,’ the driver replied. ‘There could
be a secondary explosion.’

‘We’ve got to save him.’

Sergeant Sodan glanced up from the steering
wheel to see that the paraglider had gone limp, his bloodied head
dangling by his shoulders.

‘You ain’t saving anyone up there,’ he
muttered darkly.

Rojas sunk his head into his hands, overcome
by shock. Sodan put a consoling hand on his shoulder. ‘It is not
your fault. If anyone is to blame, it is Rick himself. The protocol
is to scan for explosives first - for this very reason.’ The driver
spat out a string of profanities and took a look back at the
burning, obliterated silos and the hills around them. ‘My guess is
the bomber was in a lookout position, waiting to act if the site
became compromised.’