As they left the loop behind, Scat pulled himself free of the fuel cell compartment. He gave Chan an ultimatum.
‘Mr Chan, we are going to give you a chance to add a few points to your ratings. It’s a one-time-only offer. Refuse and you’re both dead. Accept and you’ll be the only ones to see our movement make its first strike at Lynthax. We’ll let you record the whole thing and then release you to feed it back to Earth. It’s your choice. Make it now.’
‘How do I know its value?’ Chan asked. ‘What do you intend to do?’
‘You’ll see as we do. Which of you can control this thing?’ Scat asked.
‘Li controls it.’
‘Which one of you can upload its content?’
‘Again, Li,’ Chan replied, ‘but I decide what gets uploaded. I have the second half of the code.’
Scat looked at Li and then back at Chan.
‘Then you both live or you both die. It’s up to you.’
Goosen then added to the drama with a little impromptu acting of his own. He pulled over onto the hard shoulder, got out and opened the door next to where Li was sitting. He grabbed him by the collar, as if waiting for Scat to give the order to drag him out into the snow.
Li didn’t wait for Chan to make up his mind:
‘We live, Mister. We live. Mr Chan, tell them we both live.’
All eyes were on Chan.
He wasn’t used to being kidnapped ahead of a story and then being told what the story was to be. His producer usually lined up his scoops in advance: money changed hands, events were organised, and their physical safety was guaranteed. He was always in control. Except now. His mind raced, spinning through the facts. He was the only GCE reporter on Trevon: there were plenty more planets to visit, and if something happened to him now, his stories would go unpublished. This was a Western Bloc spat and the GCE was covering this story to remind its own people just how lucky they were to be living in such well-ordered societies. Besides, there was no point in refusing to co-operate on principal.
Principals led to conflict.
‘But you must give me reassurances of our safety,’ he insisted. ‘We have stories to publish. We have families.’
‘So do we, Chan,’ Scat replied. ‘You’ll publish our story so our families can see we’re taking a stand. That’s why we’ll let you live. But cross us, or misbehave in any way, and you’re dead. We’ve nothing to lose.’
‘OK, mister. We accept although I want editorial control. And the right to all royalties should we go to magazine or NetStream.’
‘As you like, Chan. Go make yourself a bundle.’
Goosen let Li go, slammed the door shut and sat back in the driver’s seat. Li relaxed a little and tried to smile at Thomas, but it looked more like a tick. He didn’t dare look at Scat.
Scat tapped Li on the shoulder. Li flinched.
‘OK, Li, you can fly that thing and film us approaching the spaceport. Bring it down after we get inside. Don’t transmit anything.’ Scat then spoke over his head. ‘Thomas, make sure that he doesn’t.’
Thomas nodded. Li nodded along with him.
‘Yes, sir. Bring down at spaceport,’ Li confirmed.
‘No, Li,’ Scat said. He forced himself to speak slower. ‘Take it down after we get into the spaceport. We want the jokers on security to let us through the gates. You’re Earth press; the bugcam says so and they’ll not want to look like jerks on the news. You record the whole thing. Just leave your faces out of it. We don’t want your viewers thinking you were involved, do we?’
Li began to panic again. Chan put a hand on his knee and spoke to him at length in Mandarin. Li started nodding.
‘OK, OK,’ Li replied, looking at Scat.
‘Sorry,’ Chan said, turning to face Scat, ‘but he understands less than one word in ten of what you say, and I would truly hate for you to blow his head off because of a misunderstanding. Besides he’s the only bugcam operator I have. But, listen, our faces would add to the story,’ he added. ‘Why not include them. I don’t mind saying we were kidnapped.’
Scat appeared to give that some thought.
‘OK. You can let that thing roam. Remember: Thomas here will keep an eye on what you’re doing. If you send a signal, you’re dead meat.’
85
They passed through spaceport security in the same way as they had exited Go Down, but this time Chan also leaned across and showed the guard his press clearance papers. The guard looked inside the cabin of the soft-track and asked them to pop the rear door.
‘They’re cute,’ he said. ‘For vivisection?’ he asked, reading the warning notice.
‘No, we’ve stuck ‘em full of the Myxoma virus, just to see if they’re immune,’ Thomas replied. ‘They’re under observation.’
‘Should be ashamed of yourselves,’ the guard replied, backing off and waiving them through.
The bugcam continued to hover just above them, rotating to take in different views of the gate, the guard and the hangar where the V4’s shuttles were to dock once they arrived. Li was losing himself in his art; he was calming down.
‘OK turn that thing off,’ Scat ordered. ‘We’re meeting someone. He’s not to be filmed.’
Goosen pulled around the side of an administration building and found a parking space. Li called the bugcam back, and Thomas helped him to crate it so they could fly it again at short notice. Goosen then drove on to the cargo bay area, pulling in next to a row of cargo carts.
Stafford was waiting for them.
Scat got out and chatted to him for a few minutes, then returned to call Goosen over. They left Thomas holding Goosen’s police stun gun a little uncertainly with Chan and Li pressed up against the far side of the cabin, out of reach.
Scat didn’t bother to introduce his giant friend; Stafford didn’t need to know who he was. He just got right to it.
‘Mark here says they’re expecting the V4’s shuttles in a couple of hours. And he’s found us a small room to hole up in.’
Scat pointed to a side door next to the cargo area entrance. The room appeared windowless; it was no more than a storeroom or a service cupboard.
Goosen looked around. The area outside the cargo bay was deserted. The only activity of note, and it wasn’t much, was taking place inside. He nodded and returned to their vehicle.
As Goosen sorted out the news crew and its equipment, Scat stepped closer to Stafford.
‘Just how much do you want this?’ he asked.
‘As much as you,’ Stafford replied. By his tone, it was obvious he recognised Scat for who he was, but was trying not to show he was in any way impressed.
‘Paul told you that we’d be talking, right?’
‘Yes, he did—and the deal is I get to be a part of whatever it is you’re up to, in return for my help here.’
‘That’s right,’ Scat confirmed. ‘So tell me how it works here.’
‘What? The loading?’
‘Yes.’
Stafford shrugged.
‘It’s simple. They’ll probably fly two or three shuttles in at a time. We’ll be assigned a shuttle each. Cargo carts do all the heavy lifting. It only takes one operator to handle the cargo using this remote.’
‘Are you absolutely sure you want this?’ Scat asked. ‘It could get messy; you’ll have nowhere to run: it could get painful.’
Stafford squared up to him, legs apart and chin up.
‘I know. I’m up for it. Anything it takes,’ he said, daring Scat to suggest otherwise.
Scat studied Stafford for a moment. He was of a similar height and build to himself. At first glance, nothing leapt out as being particularly odd or impressive; neither of them would stand out in a crowd. But Stafford had a rounder, fleshier face, and Scat’s was long and lean. Stafford’s hair was longer than was his own, and the man’s hairline receded at the temples whereas Scat’s hairline ran straight across his forehead, much higher up. And Scat’s hair was shorter. Mind, Stafford’s eyes were brown, Scat??
?s hazel, so not much difference there, although Stafford did have a fresh scar over his left eye.
What the heck, Scat thought. It was still worth a try.
He glanced around, saw that no one was watching, and then drove a fist across Stafford’s face. Stafford went down, howling.
‘Sorry, Mark. But we needed to do that.’
Scat, whose own nose was still a little sore from his beating on Prebos, bent down to help him back up, guarding against a poor reaction.
Stafford pushed his hand away.
‘You bastard! You farking bastard! I was willing to help you.’
‘You are helping, Bud. We just needed to make it look good. Are you alright?’
‘No I’m not alright,’ Stafford complained, feeling his nose. ‘You farking broke it!’
‘Yeah, I meant to,’ Scat said, though trying to make it sound as though he didn’t want to. ‘It means you’ve to go see a doctor and get a huge great piece of gauze taped across it. Cotton buds up the nostrils, too. But for now, you can spread the blood across your coveralls. And stop whining.’
‘What the fark for?’
‘I need to get on board the V4 so I need to be you. We’re of similar size, but we don’t much look or sound the same. I want everyone on your crew to see you patched and covered up; they’ll then be less likely to notice when we make the switch. Look, once this is done, I promise you’ll be a part of what we’re doing. In fact, you’re helping right now.’
Stafford stifled the urge to lash out.
‘You couldn’t think of any better way?’ he asked, holding his head back, pinching his nose, his eyes streaming tears.
‘No, bud, I couldn’t. Not with our resources,’ Scat replied, ‘And stop pinching your nose!’ he added, pulling Stafford’s hands away from his face. ‘I want blood on your coveralls—and mine – so get me a set after you’ve been patched up.’
Scat stood patiently for a few moments as Stafford wiped his eyes of tears with the back of his hand.
‘Well: are you going to let us into that room? It’s cold out.’
Stafford fumbled for an electronic card in his coverall pocket and ran it over the lock. The rebels and their news crew filed past him as he used his free hand to smear blood onto the chest of his coveralls. Once they were all inside, he closed the door and stood on the cargo lot, trying to remember where the medical centre was, cursing under his breath.
Inside the room, Goosen couldn’t think of anything to say. He just raised an eyebrow. Scat saw the look.
‘What?’
Stafford returned with a fresh set of coveralls and a face covered in gauze, with extra gauze for dressing replacements. The medical centre had patched him up as best they could and given him a referral to a facial surgeon in Go Down.
Scat asked him to lift the gauze covering his nose and squeeze some blood out onto the fresh coveralls. He then took the spare gauze and placed it across his own nose. It looked OK so long as one wasn’t paying too much attention.
‘Get you and me a cap each. That’ll take care of the hair. Start wearing it for the rest of your shift. When the shuttles arrive, make nice with the guards, show them your nose, and make sure they see it’s broken for real. Then carry on with your usual unloading and loading. When the passengers start to embark, check in with us again.’
Stafford sloped away
For the next hour, they waited.
In the back of the room, Chan was warming to the situation. He was on the inside of a rebel action involving the V4, he was sure of it—a prisoner break or a hijacking. This would take his ratings to the very top. Li was tensing up again, but Chan was able to calm him down with visions of becoming famous. He rationalised that Scat needed them as much as they needed Scat and that they had have to stay alive for the story to break.
Thomas chewed the side of his cheek. Scat let him be. He had to go through the whole range of emotions were he was to harden-up a little. He had not been out of his father’s shadow for more than a couple of days, and yet, here he was, already complicit in a multiple kidnapping and a conspiracy to hijack a ship. Scat expected him to be a little nervy. In any event, Thomas was not so nervous as to be dysfunctional; he remained alert but not jumpy, which was a good sign.
Finally, the activity outside the cargo area picked up.
Stafford eased the door open and told Scat that the V4 had just dropped into Trevon space and was currently settling into a geo-stationary orbit above the spaceport: they should expect its shuttles to begin arriving in 30 minutes or so. Earth’s news teams were beginning to arrive at the spaceport and were fanning out across the passenger terminal to cover the story and capture the deportations on film.
Scat thanked him, then sat back down on the racking and relaxed. He stared at the far wall, his face blank. He was already mentally prepared for what was about to happen, and more than ready to accept the consequences if it didn’t go well.
What he needed now was battle rage.
86
Thomas heard the first shuttle arrive before anyone else.
‘It’s here. One of them is, at least,’ he said.
Scat started to dress in his bloodstained coveralls and re-attach the gauze to his face. He then put on the cap.
‘How do I look?’ he asked.
‘Good. But don’t talk so clearly,’ Goosen replied. ‘Stick some cotton up your nose. Grunt more. And stoop. Stafford does. You should study his movements.’
‘It’s not a farking play, Birdie.’
‘Still. Stoop a little. Get in the mood.’
Stafford walked in, closing the door behind him.
‘See what I mean,’ Goosen continued. ‘Loser’s shoulders.’
Stafford shot him a look before turning to Scat.
‘First one’s arrived and some ex-cops are being loaded. What’s next?’
Stafford looked Scat up and down; he was dressed like him.
‘Jeeze. I look like that?’
Scat ignored the comment.
‘Unload and load as you do normally,’ he said. ‘Make yourself known to the shuttle’s security. Play up the nose. Show them if you want. And while you’re playacting, get to know what their shuttle security routine is. When Nettles arrives you come right back here and tell me what you know.’
‘OK,’ Stafford replied. He then pointed at Scat’s nose. ‘Does yours hurt like mine does?’ he asked, with a hint of bitterness.
‘Of course not, Bud. Mine was broken weeks ago,’ Scat replied, then adding by way of consolation: ‘But think on this: when we’re off up there, you’ll be down here supping a beer, safe in the knowledge we couldn’t have done this without you. Thomas here will also have some decent news for you. We’ve saved the best bit for last!’
Scat was referring to Thomas’s land programme. Thomas and Paul had already discussed it. Both were as sure as they could be that their father would honour any promises, especially given what they were getting in exchange.
Stafford walked out of the room, unconvinced. Scat then turned to Chan.
‘Do you want to follow us onto the V4 and continue the story?’
‘What do you mean? How can we do that?’
‘You ask: “Can you please accompany a shuttle back to the V4 to get some background shots?” Goosen, here, can play your minder. You’re already on the spaceport, you’re Earth Press, Goosen is a certified police officer—his badge doesn’t say “Trevon sympathiser”. They can only say no.’
‘But how do I get my story out if I’m up there,’ Chan asked, suspiciously.
‘The same way the V4 communicates with the spaceport, Chan.’
Chan hesitated. He wanted to make sure his assumption about a hijacking was correct before committing.
‘Are you going to destroy it?’
Scat snorted through his nose gauze.
‘Of course not, Chan. You take me for a Whack Job?’
Again, Chan sounded cautious.
‘Then what?’
r /> ‘Follow us and you’ll find out.’
Scat could see Chan was doubtful. He was slowly shaking his head, looking at the ground. Scat offered him an alternate scenario.
‘Look, the alternative is for us to leave you behind with half a story. I can leave you with Thomas here. He’ll let you go when he thinks it’s safe enough, but that might not be for a while.’
Chan raised his chin a little, thinking it through.
‘How can you trust us not to expose you once we’re on board?’ he asked.
‘I can’t,’ Scat replied, screwing his face up as though a guarantee were out of his hands, ‘but if you want the full story, you’ll have to let us run free. It’s a take it or leave it offer. Take it and you have a bigger story.’
It then occurred to him that Chan should also consider the downside.
‘Of course, if I leave you behind I can’t promise my colleagues won’t be seriously pissed off with you. And I won’t be here to keep them straight.’
For a second, it looked as though Chan was about to lose it. When he spoke, his voice was two octaves higher than normal.
‘Where does it end? At what point do the threats stop, and we can gain our freedom?’
All Scat could hear was the whine of a child who had been told to do yet more homework. Perhaps he needed reassuring.
‘When we’re safely off Trevon I’ll tell you. Let’s face it, bud, you’re more valuable to us alive and reporting than dead, right? We’ll even give you exclusive interviews. On camera. How’s that?’
Chan bit.
‘I accept. Li does too,’ he added. ‘You have my word. And Li’s’
Li looked indignantly at him.
Scat smiled and patted Chan on the shoulder a few times. Chan stiffened.
‘Goosen will tell you when you should ask for permission,’ Scat explained before bringing Goosen in on the conversation. ‘Birdie, you’ll have to time it right: just before they close up the ramp. OK?’
‘Sure,’ Goosen replied, not hiding his surprise. ‘So I’m coming with you then—if we can get on board, that is?’
Scat took Goosen to one side and spoke softly as behind him, Chan tried to get Li to do a high-five. Li was less than enthusiastic.
‘Yes,’ Scat confirmed. ‘Thomas stays here for the time being. He and Stafford can reminisce—maybe even set up some safe houses for us along the Moss Valley. Or he can join us later. I want you with me on the V4. You’re a policeman – you’ll have more empathy with the passengers than he will.’ He then pulled a thumb drive from his pocket, which he handed over. ‘This is electronic evidence that Old Man Spelling’s son was murdered on Prebos. It contains company mail: evidence that points to Lynthax Security venting Gavin Pierce out of one of the station’s cargo airlocks.’