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4 Oxford |
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A log cracked loudly in the fire, releasing a flurry of sparks and causing the dancing flames to flare up. Light flashed briefly across the derelict car-park, illuminating the thick dirty grease sliding down her unmarked cheek. She smiled, her milky-white teeth shining in the flickering light, and lifted the burnt and blackened arm to her mouth. The thin roasted skin crackled as her teeth tore into the cooked limb, ripping away a deep chunk of flesh which she chewed with obvious relish before swallowing with a quick gulp. I edged further down the concrete ramp and peered around the corner of the side-wall, taking in more of the scene. Above the fire was a blackened metal grate, stacked with cuts of sizzling meat. Beyond, barely visible through the orange flames was a black plastic sheet, with the limbless body of a coder laid upon it. A tall figure wondered into view from behind the wall, the barcodes on his cheek partially obscured by thick, shoulder-length black hair. He edged up to the fire, picked up a long metal fork, and began to poke absently at the cooking joints of meet. Finally, one met with his approval, and he jabbed the fork into it, then lifted it carefully from the grate. "Bit of leg anyone?" The voice was quiet but steady, authority dripping from every word. He waited for an answer, looking around the dark basement, then smiled, "Anyone?" He looked around again. "Einstein?" The huge coder slumped against the far wall stirred, letting the huge joint of meat he was holding drop from his grease-covered mouth. "Wha'..?" he asked, concern and confusion in his voice. The tall man rolled his eyes and looked away for a moment. "Do you want an arm?" he asked again, waving the fork, and the cooked arm, in the air. Einstein sat up, screwing up his face as he considered the question, then looked at the tall man confused. "I got arm," he replied, indicating his left arm with his right hand. He smiled hopefully. The tall man muttered something under his breath, then turned to another man sitting to Einstein's right. "Doc?" The lankly citizen looked up from the battered book he'd been studying intently. "I'm fine thanks." He lifted his book and resumed reading. "Princess?" He was looking now at the girl who I'd first noticed. She smiled slyly at him. "Whose arm are we talking about?" He mouthed something at her, then looked down the basement toward the end where I hid. "Well then, perhaps our guest is hungry?" The humour had gone from his voice now. The girl looked straight at him. "What guest?" He ignored her, and continued talking. "Well come on, do you want it?" I turned and ran silently up the dusty ramp to the higher of the two basement levels. At the top of the ramp I turned, saw the figure crouched at the other end of the huge room, and dived forwards, letting the momentum carry me. A stream of bullets missed me by inches, crashing into the concrete behind me as I rolled behind a rusted shell of metal that I guessed had once been a car. Another volley thudded into the wall above me, showering chips of concrete over the narrow space where I sheltered, between the concrete wall and the remains of the car. I turned carefully, scraping the wreckage with my knee, causing a large hole to appear as the fragile metal disintegrated into rusty fragments. Then I crept forward, shielded by the bonnet and looked round. In front of me was the ramp leading down to the lower level, where I had been standing only moments before. Beside it, to my left, was another ramp, leading up to the surface, to what I guessed had once been the landscaped grounds of the office block above us. Beyond this was the sky, small clumps of clouds drifting across the blazing sky. At the far end of the level was a duplicate set of ramps, with darkness in between. I thought quickly, trying to estimate the distance from the car to the up ramp. About five or six metres - from the safety of the car to the shield of the up-ramp side-wall. I tipped my head around the plastic bumper to get a better view, sharply withdrawing it as the figure at the end of the level fired a third burst. In response I eased my assult-rifle up, flicked the safety off, and popped up over the edge of the bonnet, spraying a long burst along the basement. As I dropped down I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye - someone moving on the lower level. It was the one called Doc, crouched behind another abandoned car at the bottom of the down-ramp. The muzzle of a submachine-gun edged out from around the side of the wreckage, the muzzle-flash dazzling as he blindly fired in my direction. I shuffled rapidly backward, trying to get the bulge of the ramp between us. This wasn't looking too good. A voice echoed loudly around the complex, reflecting off the smooth walls. It was the tall man, sounding calm and unemotional. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a bite to eat? After all it is: prepared on the premises by our expert team of chefs." He delivered the last line parrot fashion, and was rewarded by a peal of sycophantic laughter. Obviously an inside joke. He paused for a few seconds, waiting for Einstein's booming laugh which finally arrived about a second later. Then he began talking in much quieter voice, presumably to the others. I turned my head, straining to hear. "...me a toothpick will ya, got an enormous piece of gristle stuck just there. Thanks." There was a few seconds of silence, then he shouted to me again. "Well if ya don't want to eat then perhaps ya'd like to come down for a chat?" The last word ended abruptly, as though hissed through his teeth. I considered the situation. If I made a run for the up-ramp I would be caught in a cross-fire from Doc in front of me and the other man to the side. The odds on me successfully making it across the five or six metres of dusty floor were low. Even if I did, I would then face a half-kilometre trek across the ruins of the city to where I has left the air-car. Guess it's time to chat, I thought to myself. "Okay," I shouted in reply. "Throw out your weapon," shouted a harsh booming voice from my left, presumably the man at the end of the level. I hesitated. "Do it!" he screamed, "or I'll cut you in half!" The tall man's voice echoed from below. "Nitro, please! Show some politeness t'wards our guest." He paused for a moment, then resumed. "But perhaps it would be easier if you discarded your weapon." I threw the assult-rifle forward, watching as the weapon spun onto the concrete, producing a shower of dust as it skidded to a halt. The voice from my left boomed out again. "Come out with your hands up!" I lifted my hands, stood up, and shuffled out from behind the car, observing the one they called Nitro walking towards me out of the darkness, silhouetted by the pool of light at the far end, a submachine-gun cradled in his arms. He waved the barrel to the side, motioning to me to move down the ramp. I walked forward, and down the concrete slope. The tall man leaned forward, looking through the flickering flames of the fire and studied me with his eyes. "So ya sure ya erm..." He turned to Princess, who was kneeling close beside him. "What was the expression ya used?" She smiled sweetly. "Mummy always used to say: 'will you partake of our hospitality?'" He smirked. "That's it. Are ya sure ya won't partake of our hospitality?" An undercurrent of steel was threaded through the apparent friendliness of the question. I weighed my reply. "I'm not hungry thanks." This was of course true, especially after I had seen where the meat came from. "Sure?" He indicated the body behind him. "It's good stuff, fresh. We er... found it this morning. It was lost." A burst of slightly forced laughter erupted from his followers. Sapphire. Sapphire: 15:32:06> Activated. Isolate the man sitting in front of me. A red rectangle appeared on my vision, neatly fitting around the tall man's face, framing the strangely alien expression and the insanity flickering across his eyes. Is he in the database? Sapphire: 15:32:13> Searching... I left Sapphire to get on with the search, watching the tall man digging between two teeth with the toothpick. Finally he finished, and looked back at me. "So. What brings ya here?" He sat back, and waited for my answer. I dragged the pause out as long as I dared. "Would you believe I was just visiting?" I eventually ventured, casually. He considered the answer, his lips pursed. Finally, he shook his head. "No. I don't think I do believe that." He got up, wondered slowly over to the nearby fire, picked up a thin metal bar, and placed it onto the grate, its tip in the fire. "No..." he muttered, as he swivelled round to me. "Does anyone know what year it is?" he asked sarcastically, ignoring Einstein's eagerly held up arm. He resumed his place in front of me, and pulled Princess close to him. "It's 2108 citizen," his thin lips snarled, the friendliness gone now. "There ain't been no fucking tourists here for over fifty years!" "Perhaps he got side-tracked," suggested Princess, snuggling against his muscular chest. Sapphire: 15:33:19> Search completed, match found. View? Yeah. Sapphire: 15:33:22> He's F42PX7-93. Laid down 2092, born 2093. Part of a batch of 150. Designed for heavy manual work, intended IQ range of 40 to 60, together with superior strength, reflexes and health. Escaped from a road-gang in 2105 killing two citizen-guards in the process. Should be regarded as psychotic and highly dangerous. I considered the information. He was a breaker, a low-class coder; created with a number but no name. Intended to be a strong malleable moron, not a person - more a piece of machinery. Destined to burn under a harsh sun until he was too crippled to continue, then to be put-down and replaced. Proof that sometimes the genetic engineers screwed up - with Einstein they had succeeded, with F42PX7-93 they had failed. It was a failure that had cost at least two lives, and maybe more. I pushed away the thought that I might end up being included in that tally. "Do ya know where ya are?" he asked. "Oxford." At the moment the truth seemed to be the best strategy. "Good. Do ya know who I am?" "No." In a sense this was true. I knew who he had been, but not who he was now. "I used t' be called F42PX7-93," he hissed, glancing down. "Not much of a name is it?" I said nothing, so he continued, his voice firm again. "Now they call me Crazy Horse." Who is or was Crazy Horse? Sapphire: 15:33:49> A native American (American Indian) leader. He fought under Sitting Bull against Custer at the battle of Little Big Horn. "Do ya know who Crazy Horse was?" he queried. "American Indian leader," I replied, pretending to think, "fought under Sitting Bull against Custer at the battle of Little Big Horn." For a moment he looked both disconcerted and impressed, before he caught himself. "Ya know ya history?" "Bits." There was another long silence, broken only by the noise of Einstein happily slurping a drink of some kind. Finally Crazy Horse spoke, "Why did ya come here?" "To see someone." Completely true. "Who?" "I don't know." Still true. "Don't fuck me 'bout cit'zen," he threatened. This time the word citizen was snarled as an insult, rather than with respect. "I'm not," I pleaded. One thing I had figured, was that I was in deep shit. The only advantage I had was that they knew nothing about me, and had no particular reason to see me as a threat. But I couldn't risk the truth, otherwise I might end up providing the next joints to cook on the grate. Time to start thinking quickly. "I'm looking for something: evidence, answers." "Answers t' what?" "My grandfather," I continued, "what happened to him. He worked for the Emergency Government in the early fifies; I don't know as what. My mother never talked much about him, she was only a baby at the time." "What's this got to do with Oxford?" interrupted Princess. It was Doc, sitting against the far wall, who supplied her answer in a bored monotone. "The Emergency Government was based in Oxford from 2047 to 2053." Oh, mouthed Princess silently. Crazy Horse motioned me to continue. "When the mob stormed Oxford... well the EG pulled out in a hurry, moved everything to Edinburgh. From what I've read, and from talking to people - well it was pretty chaotic. They basically just abandoned the entire southern half of England." "And the point?" inquired Crazy Horse, absently stroking Princess's cheek. "Well..." I began, but was then interrupted by a peel of thunder echoing down the entrance ramps. In the altered tropical climate, violent storms could whip up in minutes, devastate thousands of square miles then disappear within hours. While the tempest raged the surface would be even more dangerous. I waited for the noise to die away, and then resumed. "When the mob started attacking, my mother and my grandmother were flown out. My grandfather stayed behind to help with the removal of the computer systems." I broke off and faked a deep breath. "We don't know what happened. We just know that when the city fell, and the last 'copters flew out - well he wasn't on any of them." "And ya want t' know what happened t' him?" "Yeah. I tried all the official records, but they're all useless. Basically nobody seems to know what happened after the mob broke through the final cordon." Crazy Horse said nothing, idly scratching at his rough workclothes. It occurred to me that I must look pretty out of place in my pretty fluorescent citizen's jumpsuit, compared with their assorted mixture of worksuits, uniforms and early-to-mid 21st century clothing. Not to mention the random heaps of debris and battered equipment. "Ya said ya came t' meet someone?" The tone was gently accusing. "I heard there were people in Oxford. People who had found some of the old records. I thought maybe they'd know what happened?" "And ya probably wondering if we're them?" "Yeah." Crazy Horse smiled. "Well, if ya asking if we found things..? We have. Bits and pieces, this and that. But what ya want t' know, well that's..." He glanced sideways. "What d'ya reckon Doc?" "Tricky," sighed Doc, "Won't be in official records. They stopped when the last 'copters flew out. You're talking diaries, journals, that sort of thing. And that stuff doesn't last." "Yep," continued Crazy Horse, "that stuff don't last. Y'see, the mob didn't leave much. The suburbs got smashed up in the fighting. Then when the town centre fell, they took what they figured was good, and burnt the rest. What ya looking for, that ain't easy." "But have you found anything like that," I asked, beginning to hope that maybe I could actually pull this off. "Oh yeah, we found stuff," admitted Crazy Horse. He pointed suddenly at Doc, though he kept looking straight at me. "Hey Doc," he commanded, "what was that stuff we found the other week? Y'know, the poem." Doc paused for a second, then nodded. "Yeah, I remember the one." He reached down beside him, lifted up a battered looking comp-pad, grabbed the stylus, and expertly tapped away for a few seconds. "Got it," he announced, waiting for further instructions. "Well read it then!" exploded Crazy Horse. Doc appeared slightly put out, but lifted the comp-pad up into a comfortable reading position. He cleared his throat and began reading in an embarrassed monotone voice. "When the oceans rise, He glanced up hopefully, but received a wave of the hand from Crazy Horse ordering him to continue. "When your skin fries, "When a tree dies, "When a land dries, "When a child cries, "When a missile flies, "When a rich man tries, "When an Earth dies, "If your ruler lies, Doc stopped reading and slowly put the comp-pad down beside him. Crazy Horse broke the silence. "We found it in a twelve-year old girl's diary. It was wrote during the siege. We don't know who she was, just her first name and age. We don't even know if she lived. So what did ya think of the poem?" "I thought it was very good," I ventured, "very moving." "Really?" he snapped, "I thought it was pathetic crap, written by some spoilt, rich bitch who suddenly come face to face with what her lot had done! I hope the mob burnt her." "Hey! What's wrong with being a spoilt rich bitch anyway?" asked Princess, gently kissing Crazy Horse on the cheek. "Nothing - when they know their place," he replied, turning his attention back to me. "You think I should be more sympathetic t' her, or t' what she was saying?" I weighed my answer. "Well, what she was saying. It was true. They killed the planet." He nodded. "Yeah, that's right. They killed the planet. Humans killed the planet, humans. Not coders." His voice softened. "Not coders. First coders was made four years after this poem was wrote. It was her people killed the planet. T' complain 'bout it - that's just whining!" I stayed silent, waiting for him to resume. "But who cares!" he announced cheerfully, "she's probably dead, we ain't, and you - well who knows!" I thought I better get him back onto the subject. "Can you help me? Find out what happened to my grandfather?" "I might be able," he admitted, "if that's why ya really here, but then maybe ya lying, in which case we'll kill ya." Across the room Einstein stirred, his primitive brain triggered by the word 'kill'. "I'm not lying!" I lied. "I didn't say ya were," he pointed out, "I simply said that ya might be. But p'raps I ought t' consult my comrades." He glanced along the inside wall, at the dozen or so individuals scattered around, but ignored them and faced away. "Doc?" "Seems a shame to just kill him," Doc said, running a hand though his closely cropped hair, his fingers lingering for a moment on the interface sockets implanted behind his right ear. He glared straight at me. "Why are you here? Are you military? I used to have some friends in the Army, and they looked a lot like you." "I'm not military," I replied, truthfully. "So why are you here?" he asked again. "Why are you?" I parried, deciding that I had nothing to lose. "Born a citizen, but you live like this." I pointed around the room to emphasise the statement. "Why are you here?" "Because society's fucked," he declared angrily. "Full of ever so nice people, living ever so nice lives, under fucking domes on a dead planet. They know they're happy, and they know they're right - they know, because the bloody Knights tell them. Maybe I was tired of the Knights. Maybe I was tired of being told what to do, when to have fun, and how to have it. Maybe I was tired of living in a bubble. Maybe----" "Maybe you were tired of mending com-phones!" laughed Princess. Doc gave her a dirty look, then returned his scrutiny to me. "So why are you here?" "Just like I said," I answered. It was too late to change the story now. He turned to Crazy Horse. "Don't know. He could be telling the truth." "Princess?" inquired Crazy Horse. "He is kind of cute," she chirped, "but not that cute." She thought for a few seconds, then made her decision. "Kill him!" Crazy Horse looked around again. "Einstein!" He thought for a second, then spoke again. "Forget it!" His eyes fixed on someone standing behind me. "Nitro?" There were the sound of footsteps on the crumbling concrete as Nitro circled round in front of me. He stopped, the submachine-gun cradled casually, but precisely in his arms, and looked me over. I took the opportunity to examine him at the same time, guessing that after Crazy Horse, he was probably the most dangerous person here. He was black, smooth ebony skin stretched over high unmarked cheekbones. Like the others he was attired in a bizarre variety of clothing, an early 21st century leather jacket worn over a citizen's undershirt, finished off by a pair of coder's work trousers. But unlike the others he wore it with style, with precision. He knelt down, taking a closer look at me, casually swinging the barrel of the gun towards me with a smooth, practiced, flowing motion. Like Doc, I had known military men, and like Doc I now believed I was looking at one. This Nitro was not simply a citizen who had dropped out - he was far more dangerous than that. He snapped up out of his kneeling posture, and walked round the fire to Crazy Horse. The voice when it came was cold as ice. "Kill him." Crazy Horse looked up at him. "Any 'ticular reason?" Nitro shrugged. "If he's telling the truth, but we kill him - all we've lost is a trade. If he's lying, but we don't kill him, we could all lose our lives." Crazy Horse got to his feet and began pacing up and down through the gloom, ignoring another loud rumble of thunder erupting above. The storm was obviously picking up. Activate targeting system. Sapphire: 15:41:43> Targeting system activated. Clearing text. The green targeting sight appeared, pointing at a patch of floor someway to the front and right of me. I changed position, giving a slight groan as if a leg had gone to sleep, and moved my right arm, leaving it draped across my knee and pointing straight at Nitro's forehead. Crazy Horse whirred round and looked straight at me, his steel-blue eyes locked onto mine. "Is there anything ya can say might persuade me not t' kill ya?" I thought wildly, but nothing came. "To be honest the only line that comes to mind is: Please don't hurt me!" He laughed, some sort of empathy at least. To my right I could hear a shuffling - Einstein, again activated by the word kill. Crazy Horse smiled sickeningly at me, then turned to Doc. "When was the last execution?" Doc thought for a moment. "Three months ago." "Was that the scrapper we caught? Remember, the one we found on his own in Abingdon?" He was using citizen jargon now, scrapper being a fairly derogatory term for individuals who looked for abandoned valuables in the old towns. "No, that was a few months before that. Mark was the last one we did. He was stealing, remember?" "Yeah, I remember. Three months! Gotta be due for another." He looked at me and shrugged. "Then I think ya go'n die." He wasn't joking. "How?" I asked, trying to stall. He grinned again. "I 'spect ya think we're go'n cook ya, eh?" That had occurred to me. "No, we'd never do that. We're civilised people. We'd never eat a cit'zen." It was amazing how much venom he could put into the word citizen. "No," he pondered, "we'll probably give ya to Einstein t' play with." He stepped forward, and lowered his voice. "Ya see thing is: Einstein likes t' hurt people. Don't ya Einstein?" Einstein nodded vigorously. "Hurt people!" Thunder sounded faintly in the distance. Closer, I pleaded, closer. Another rumble, still quiet, but getting closer now as lightning rippled along the storm front. Crazy Horse turned to exchange a private joke with Doc, glancing upward when a third volley of lightning bolts began striking the ground right above us, causing a massive crash of thunder. I clenched my fist, firing a three round burst through Nitro's head, the faint crack of the weapon completely masked by the thunder. He was still falling forward when I pushed explosively upwards, throwing myself forward across the five or so metres to Princess, whose eyes were fixed on the ceiling. I grabbed her around the throat as the falling Nitro crashed down onto the fire-grate, knocking it off its supporting pile of bricks, and falling through to the flaming scraps of wood below. The flames splashed outward with a loud whoosh, then washed back over him, his black curly hair swiftly catching fire. I dragged the screaming Princess backwards, watching Crazy Horse, Doc and half a dozen other gang members drag Nitro off the fire, all assuming that her screams were for him. I clamped a hand over her mouth, held my arm to her head, and whispered in her ear, "say anything and I'll blow your fucking brains out." Shuffling away, we moved further into the darkness in the middle of the room, while a flurry of whipped jackets extinguished the flames rippling across Nitro's lifeless body. The thunder died, only seconds after it began, and someone finally realised I was no longer sitting in front of the fire. "He's got Princess!" they shouted, their voice cracking. "Move and I'll blow her fucking head off!" I warned, keeping my gun-arm pointed straight at her temple. They halted, except for Einstein, who lumbered on like a bulldozer. I whipped my arm away for a second and fired a short snap-shot in his direction. The bullet punched a hole through his shoulder and he dropped, whining like a wounded animal. I noticed that some of them were armed; carrying an assortment of pistols, shotguns and submachine-guns, some archaic and some modern. "This is fired by muscle action," I called out, "if you shoot me and I twitch, she dies!" I carried on, dragging her slowly away from them. "Hold still!" Crazy Horse ordered his followers. He lifted his palms and took a step forward, matching my pace. "What d'ya want, cit'zen?" "Just to get out of here!" I told him in reply. "Ok," he said carefully, "let her go, an' ya can leave." "You expect me to believe that?" I queried, shaking my head. "You wait here, and I'll take her with me. When I'm clear, I'll let her go!" "What?" he snarled, his eyes blazing fury, his fist jabbing the air. "Listen cit'zen, I might wear the codes on my cheeks - but I take orders from no-one!" "Well you'd better start," I suggested, "if you want to screw this bundle of fun again." He halted, and raised his palms again. "How'd I know ya won't just kill her?" "Do you think I'd shoot a citizen in cold blood?" "You shot Nitro," he accused, indicating the charred body, the impact wounds clearly visible on its forehead. "He had a gun on me," I countered. "Ok go," he muttered, quelling protests on his side with a sharply raised hand. "But if I ever see ya again ya dead!" "Shut up," I growled, dragging Princess through the ruins of a what I believed had been a petrol station, and snatching a last glance at the office block three hundred or so metres down the road. So far we were not being followed - not directly at least. I shoved her through the open doorway into the small cabin that stood beside the pumps. All around us the storm still raged, the violent gusts of wind hurling dust, bits of vegetation and light pieces of debris down the streets. Even though we had only been out in the open for minutes we were already soaked to the skin. "Get down there," I told her, pointing to an area between two rows of green metal shelving units. Once, from what I had read in the history books, this building would have served as a small shop, selling not only the petrol from the pumps but motor-items, food and newspapers. However by the time it fell to the mob it would almost certainly have been operating under martial law, hence the army-style shelves. My backpack was still lying underneath the far shelf where I had left it. I pulled it out and quickly snapped open the various compartments, verifying that everything was undisturbed. Behind me Princess was still whining. "But if the sun comes out we'll fry!" I snapped open the lower compartment and pulled out two UV hoods, throwing one over to her. "Put that on," I ordered, throwing a pair of gloves after it. "How?" she asked blankly. "It's just a hat!" I snapped, pushing the cap onto her head, pulling the strap under her chin and draping the fine anti-UV screen over her face and onto her shoulders. "Don't you ever go out?" "Only at night," she whimpered. I pulled out the only storm-tunic in the pack and put it on her, then hauled the pack onto my back, snapping the harness catches shut. "Come on," I muttered, and dragged her out into the open, moving under the shelter of the petrol station's flat canopy and hopping over a fallen sign bearing a red and white star and the name 'Texaco'. Crouching beside the shield of a petrol pump, I took a few moments to get my bearings. I had flown in from the south along the Thames, keeping low to avoid detection. I had landed about three kilometres to the south, leaving the air-car hidden behind a road embankment and had hiked the remaining distance, following a derelict railway line. Now the railway line, and the open expanse between it and the petrol station was being hit repeatedly by massive bolts of lightning arcing down from the storm-clouds above. Going into the open at the moment would be suicide. Compared with most citizens I had extensive out-dome experience, but this was still more violent than anything I had ever seen. But I didn't feel safe this close to Crazy Horse and company. He looked mad enough to actually try and follow us through this. It was time to move, and because of the lightning we'd have to head away from the air-car, through the town. "Keep low," I instructed her, since doing so would reduce her chance of attracting lightning, "and follow me." Crouching down myself, I turned and ran swiftly across the wide road towards the broken fence and cluster of burnt out buildings beyond. A worn, faded plastic sign still proclaimed: 'Oxford College of Further Education'. I grabbed Princess's wrist, dragged her over the broken wire links, and into the shelter of the nearest building. Seconds later, a huge lightning bolt struck a streetlight just metres from where we had been standing, oscillating as though alive for a few seconds before disappearing, its energy spent. A sound reached me, dancing on the turbulent winds, faint and distorted. I thought it came from the north, from near the office block and the car-park below. But in this wind who could tell? I put a hand between Princess's shoulder-blades and shoved her forward. 'Queen Street' proclaimed the sign, still standing high above the street, although the building to which it was attached was now a burnt, derelict shell. "Keep close," I whispered to her, stepping gingerly through the broken glass and rubble that littered the cracked tarmac. "Doc got a load of stuff out of that," she declared in a proud whisper, pointing at a rusted vehicle that partially blocked the street in front of us. "Some of the wires and stuff were still intact." I stepped around the vehicle, recognising it as an APC - an armoured personal carrier. A neat hole had been punched clean through its thin side armour, presumably in the final desperate hours when the mob overran the city centre. Once out of the shield of the APC we faced the full fury of the wind once more, the gusts forcing the UV shields against our faces, and tugging at our clothing. I pulled the girl forward, then froze, thinking I had heard a faint scratching noise. "What is it?" asked Princess. I motioned her to be quiet and looked down the street, hearing the noise again, but unable to spot the cause. Then I saw it, walking out from the ruins of what had once been a department store. The dog halted, its nose wrinkling and its UV-corroded eyes staring sightlessly ahead, then padded gingerly forward. I thought quickly With the wind blowing so strongly from it to us, it would be unable to air scent us, and since our trail was behind us, if we kept quiet we should be ok. It walked further into the street, others following. I made a quick count. There were at least fourteen, some large, some small, all hideously deformed, their bodies covered with multiple tumours and growths. I spun round and signed to Princess, indicating that we should move slowly and quietly around the APC and back down the street. Dogs had such a good sense of smell that even blinded they were still dangerous. In the new ecology of the 22nd century, dogs had been one of the winners. She nodded fearfully, and began edging around the heap of tangled metal. I followed her, taking a last look down the street, and was relieved to see the pack milling aimlessly, terrified of the storm. The wind dropped to a whisper, as we moved back into the sheltered zone behind the APC, and turned away to retreat, looking on in horror at a second group of ten or so dogs working their way along the trail we had just left. The lead dog stopped, lifting its nose from the road surface and sniffing at the air, attempting to detect us in the confused swirling gusts. Sapphire. Sapphire: 16:23:40> Activated. Activate targeting system. Sapphire: 16:23:43> Targeting system activated. Clearing text. I swung the crosshairs onto the lead dog, aiming at the centre of its dirty brown and black chest, but continued moving along the side of the APC. The dog took a step forward, its head gently waving from side to side, its useless eyes still. It took another step, its cancerous brain trying to understand its environment, confused and frightened by the fury of the storm. Another step. Then another. The head still rocked, but less now, as though zeroing in on us. It's snout arced slowly past us, stopped, then arced back, and stopped again. It took another step forward, pointing straight towards us, sniffed, and then exploded forward, followed by the rest of the pack. Three shots tore its chest apart, its front legs folding under it as it crashed to the tarmac in a pool of blood. A dying scream choked in its throat, its back legs pawing desperately at the air. I sprayed a wide ten-round burst across the street, crippling some and forcing the others into a confused yelping retreat. Three bullets left. "Come on!" I screamed at the transfixed girl, dragging her into the dark wide opening of a shopping centre, and shoving her forward. 'Welcome to the Clarendon Centre', proclaimed a large sign. "Move!" I shouted, sprinting after her into the ruined plaza at the heart of the complex. Rain thundered onto us through the broken roof as I took a glance back. Six of the deformed monsters were following after us, tails wagging furiously. I knelt and fired, a single shot that ripped the jaw of the lead dog. Instantly, another dog hurdled the leader's tumbling body. I fired again, the shot scoring along the side of its body, leaving a deep bloody gash. It whined horribly but continued, running straight into my last round, tumbling to the ground when the slim bullet tore through its shoulder. I turned and continued after Princess. "This way!" she called, turning left into a side corridor. I sprinted after her, running between the shattered shop units on either side, ignoring the excited barking close behind me. I hurdled a high pile of rubble, stumbled slightly, and drew level with her. "Keep going!" I cried, glancing sideways to check on her and seeing her foot hook on a tangled iron bar extending out of an open shop front; seeing her slam onto the pitted tiles; hearing the cry of surprise turn into a sharp groan as the jagged stone fragments sliced through her storm-tunic; feeling the fear welling up inside her. I skidded to a halt, turned, ran back to her and hauled her to her feet. "Get going!" I growled, dodging past her to face the three wolf-like beasts weaving down the corridor. I dodged the first, ducking away from its leap at the last moment and sweeping it sideways into a derelict shop front. It plunged through the already splintered glass and into the darkness beyond, leaving behind a neat hole edged with blood. I turned to face the second leap, too late this time, able only to lift my left arm in front of my face. The dog's powerful jaws clamped over my forearm, its pointed teeth slicing through the thin jumpsuit and into the flesh. I pushed back, using the dog's momentum to force my arm into the back of the its mouth, whilst simultaneously bringing my right arm behind its neck and pulling back in a vicious scissoring action. A loud crack echoed through the deserted units as its neck snapped. I flung the lifeless body to the side, at the same time feeling the teeth of the third digging deep through the suit and into the my leg. I dragged the leg away, swinging my other leg in an ineffectual kick that simply glanced off its scarred body and carried on, pulling me totally off balance. It shook its head, tugging, and I felt myself falling, my back crashing into the floor. I looked down my body, seeing the dog tearing into my leg with renewed vigour, and another two of its companions advancing towards me. The dog let go, lifted its head, opened its jaws for a final assault, and exploded in a shower of blood and mashed flesh as a long burst sliced though its body, the sound of the submachine-gun behind me deafening in the enclosed space. I kicked the tattered remains off me while another long burst scythed down the corridor, killing the final two dogs. I staggered to my feet, and turned to thank my rescuer. It was Doc, and two others, each wearing a home-made UV hood, and cradling a military-issue submachine-gun, with Princess huddling behind them. A smile played across his face as he spoke to me. "We'd better get going, there'll probably be more of them." He began shuffling back down the corridor, to the street beyond. I slithered over the rubble and caught up with him as we moved into the rain that poured onto the narrow street. "Thanks," I muttered to him. He turned and looked at me. "Hate to think of a fellow citizen getting eaten by those things." He shuddered, and looked back at the scattered bodies littering the blood-stained passageway. His voice when he spoke was quiet and distant. "Fucking dogs..." The female scavenger, a citizen, gently applied a dressing to my leg to match the one she'd placed on my left arm. Above us, the noises of the storm still echoed down the entrance ramps. "What's your name?" she asked, giving me a reassuring smile. "Paul." I replied. "Where'd you learn to do that?" "New Newcastle," she answered, not looking up from her task. "I was a nurse there." "How did you end up here?" She smiled ruefully. "Long story." I took the hint and shut up, letting her slim, supple fingers complete the job of patching me up, looking instead around the dimly lit alcove in which crouched, ignoring the grim-faced guard standing opposite. She tapped me on the shoulder, and spoke quietly. "I've given you an anti-rabies shot, a cocktail of antibiotics, some vitamins and so on. You've lost a fair bit of blood, so go easy for a while." She smiled, and waved an arm at her equipment spread around her. "I'm afraid blood's one thing I don't have. You know you really shouldn't go out in the rain. God knows what toxins you picked up there." She picked up my unbitten right arm, and examined it carefully. "You've got fairly extensive bruising along the forearm." She stared at me uneasily, suppressing a shudder. "Is that because of the thing you've got buried in there? Because you fired it?" She dug at my wrist with her fingernail, and found the hidden opening. "Yeah," I replied, not particularly wanting to discuss the gun. "Doesn't it hurt," she grimaced, "when you fire?" "Not really." I pulled her hand off my wrist, and changed the subject. "What's going to happen to me?" I asked, remembering the previous verdict. She lifted an eyebrow. "Who knows? You blew Nitro's head off with that thing. But you did go back for the princess." I wasn't totally sure from her tone which act she considered the worst. The com-unit on her belt bleeped once, and she grabbed my arm, "Come on." "Where to?" She smiled unsteadily, "To your trial." The rusty hammer hit the upturned breeze-block with a sharp crack, sending a shower of cement fragments to the floor. "I d'clare this court in session," called Crazy Horse to the twenty or so assembled scavengers sitting in an arc behind me. He turned to Doc, who was standing beside his chair, and exchanged a few whispered words. Then he fixed his glare on me. "Normally, we'd just kill ya." He raised a hand to silence the cheers. "But, ya did go back t' save Princess. And the other week we watched this old vid show Doc salvaged. It was set in a court. So we're gunna give ya a proper trial. Okay?" "Yeah," I agreed warily, not sure what the other option was. "Good! You are charged with killing a member of this group, and of kidnapping a member of this group. How do you plead?" "Guilty!" suggested some smart-arse at the back in a stupid voice. I took another look at Crazy Horse - the judge - his usual plastic jacket now topped with the elaborate head-dress and cloak of a Knight Adjudicator-General, themselves enhanced with copious amounts of glittering multi-coloured tinsel. God only knew where they'd got that from. In another place, at a different time, and with a saner man, the effect would have been funny. I grasped the corners of my pile of breeze-blocks - the dock - and leant slightly forward. "Not guilty," I asserted, ignoring the laughing chorus of boos, and the plastic drink canisters bouncing off my head. They were clearly enjoying themselves; this was probably the most fun they'd had in months. The phrase "kangeroo court" came to mind. The judge looked up at his audience. "For the prosecution we have Doc!" Doc stepped forward and assumed a place to my left, raising a hand to acknowledge the cheers of the crowd. Crazy Horse lowered his eyes to me. "Now we thought fo' long time 'bout who t' be ya defence lawyer." He turned and beamed at Princess, who coyly grinned back. "It was Princess who came up with the answer." She smiled sweetly at me. He raised his eyes to the crowd. "For the defence we have..." he paused, letting the words hang on the air, the whole room totally silent. "For the defence we have - Einstein!" "Einstein! Einstein! Einstein!" chanted the crowd happily. Einstein, his shoulder heavily bandaged, shuffled into place on my left, giving me a lop-sided grin. Shit, I thought, shit, shit, shit. Shit. Crazy Horse banged the gavel again, producing more shards of cement. "Order! Order!" They quietened down. "Okay, Doc'll call - " he leaned forward and grinned, "what was it?" "Witnesses," whispered Doc. "Yeah, that was it, witnesses. Doc'll call the witnesses, then the defence can say somet'ing, then I make my decision. Okay?" Doc nodded ascent. "Einstein?" Einstein looked up blankly. "T'ink so. Maybe?" He looked at Princess for reassurance. Crazy Horse stifled a chuckle. "Princess, he's forgotten it. Explain to him again, will ya." She glided over and took Einstein aside, talking to him slowly and gently. Sapphire. Sapphire: 17:52:46> Activated. I'm being tried. Sapphire: 17:52:53> Statement is not understood. Please rephrase. I am being tried in a court of law. I need legal advice. Sapphire: 17:53:01> Legal advice can be obtained in the following ways: Hiring a private solicitor. Visiting an independent Knight Adjudicator. Visiting a citizen's advice centre. Do you require further information, on how to obtain legal advice? I want it, not how to get it. Sapphire: 17:53:10> Statement is not understood. Please rephrase. I am not able to visit any of the above persons or centres. I require whatever legal advice you have. Sapphire: 17:53:15> Query is not specific enough. Please be more specific. What is the process of a criminal trial? Sapphire: 17:53:21> The process, as presently used, of a criminal trial was defined in the Emergency Regulations Act of 2043 and modified by the Criminal Justice Act of 2052. Whilst civil cases are handled by the state, criminal cases are handled by the Knights of Avalon. In a criminal trial there is a single judge, he or she being a Knight Adjudicator General. The charges are first read out, then the defendant asked to plead guilty or not guilty. If the defendant pleads not guilty, then the case continues through the following stages: The prosecution outlines the basics of what they believe happened. The prosecution call and question each of their witnesses. The defence can question each witness after the prosecution. The defence call and question each of their witnesses. The prosecution can question each witness after the defence. The prosecution summarise the case. The defence summarise the case. The judge makes his judgement. If he feels that the prosecution has proved the defendant guilty then he rules in favour of the prosecution. If he feels that the defence has proved the defendant innocent, then he rules in favour of the defence. Otherwise he rules that the case is not proven. In this case he can, at any point in the future retry the defendant. Do you require further information? Not yet. Remain on standby. I turned my attention back to the courtroom, just as Princess returned to her place, sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Crazy Horse. Einstein stepped up beside me and grinned triumphantly. "Got it! Him say him bad," he said, pointing from Doc to me, "me say him good! Like on vid show!" Crazy Horse paused for a moment, then slowly nodded, once. "Ok," he muttered, then shouted to the crowd, "Everyone happy back there?" They cheered again, one of them throwing a further drink canister, an action he instantly regretted as Einstein hurled his bulk into the audience with surprising speed. He lifted the culprit right off his seat, the lanky man's feet hanging six inches off the floor, and jabbed him hard in the face. Evidently, he took his duties as defence lawyer seriously. Crazy Horse attacked the breeze block once more. "The defence will desist from attacking people in the public gallery!" "Einstein," hissed Princess through gritted teeth, "that's you!" Einstein stopped his assault, turned ponderously round, and pointed at his chest. "Yes, you!" nodded Princess. "Sorry," muttered Einstein, dropping the canister thrower onto the bench and patting him on the head, before shuffling back to my side. Crazy Horse placed the hammer on the breeze-block and nodded to Doc, who strode into the arena, then turned to face the audience. "We intend to prove, in the course of this trial that the defendant did, on this day, murder Nitro, by means of a gun implanted in his arm, and that he did then kidnap Princess." He paused, theatrically. "I call my first witness - Mushroom." A thin, deformed coder shuffled awkwardly past me, his crippled leg leaving a trail in the dust. He turned, exposing his bald, growth encrusted skull, the huge lumps making his head horribly wide and misshapen. "Mushroom," said Doc, walking over to him, "were you in this room when the prisoner was being held?" "Not at first," Mushroom replied hesitantly, "I was on look-out duty up above. I come down later, after he was captured." "But you came down before he escaped?" "Objection!" thundered Einstein, as a couple of braincells collided. "What?" replied Crazy Horse, surprised. "Objection..?" repeated Einstein, his eyes flicking from side to side in confusion. Princess got up and tip-toed over to him, taking his hands in hers. "Einstein. In the vid show, when they objected - they were objecting to something." He looked at her blankly. "So I don't say objection no more?" "Not unless there's something you object to," she explained. "I object!" heckled someone from behind. "Get on with it!" A chorus of yeahs echoed round the basement. The hammer banged again. Doc waited for silence, then continued. "So you were here when the prisoner escaped?" "Yeah." "Can you see the prisoner now?" The coder looked confused. "Well yeah. It's 'im ain't it?" He pointed straight at me, his outstretched finger only feet from me. Crazy Horse wearily hauled himself out of his ornate, padded chair. "Is this really necessary?" he asked Doc in a bored tone. "I'm just trying to establish that we have the correct person," countered Doc, then added hastily, "Your Honour." "Course it's the right bloke you twat!" screamed the heckler, "he was only out an hour." Crazy Horse silenced him with a vicious glare, but allowed the crowd's laughter to continue. Like I said, this was probably the most fun they'd had in months. He motioned to Doc to continue. "Could you describe to the court what happened?" asked Doc. Mushroom gulped and began speaking, his hoarse croaking voice barely above a whisper. "Well, I was sitting... er... I was sitting... sitting over by the wall. Over there----" "Speak up!" called several voices from behind, "can't hear back here!" The pitiful creature visibly shrank, but continued, his voice even quieter and more hesitant. A serious of disappointed tuts broke out. "I was sitting over there. Watching him." Doc broke in. "And where was he sitting?" Mushroom painfully lifted an arm, and pointed to where I had been sitting. "He was there. In front of the fire." He moved his arm slightly. "The fire... it was about there." "Where was Nitro at this point?" queried Doc, dramatically pacing across the room, then turning sharply to deliver the question in a parody of every vid-film lawyer he'd ever seen. "Just over there. The other side of the fire." "So! The fire was in between the defendant and Nitro?" "Yeah. S'what I said." Crazy Horse sighed loudly, his feet propped up on the breeze block, his head hanging over the back of the chair. "Can we not go a bit faster?" "I'm just trying to construct a case," whined Doc, hurt. A dissmissive wave gave him permission to carry on. "Could you tell us, in your own words, how the defendant escaped?" Mushroom pondered for a moment. "Well there was some thunder, and he lifted his arm up," he ventured, obviously aware it sounded stupid, "then he kindof clenched his fist and his arm shook slightly and Nitro fell onto the fire." "What happened after Nitro fell onto the fire?" "He started burning," answered a confused Mushroom. A burst of laughter broke out behind me. Doc rephrased his question. "What did the prisoner do?" "He got up, and ran over to Princess. Then he grabbed her, and pointed his arm at her." Doc consulted some imaginary notes. "Did the prisoner then shout: 'move and I'll blow her head off!'?" "It was: 'move and I'll blow her - fucking - head off'," corrected Mushroom to another chorus of laughs. "Right... And did he then drag her away?" "Yeah." "No further questions," said Doc, resuming his place to my right. I rose to my feet. "Yes?" snapped Crazy Horse. "What the hell ya doing?" "I want to question the witness," I replied. "He's not your witness!" "I do have the right," I pointed out, "under the Criminal Justice Act of 2052. You did say that this was a proper trial." "Fine, ask!" he sulked. "But you can't question the witness yourself. Your defence lawyer must do the asking." Shit. Shit, Shit, Shit. I tugged on Einstein's sleeve, and he lowered his ear to my level. "Ask him how I killed Nitro," I whispered Einstein paced threateningly up to Mushroom, drew himself up to his full, terrifying height, and bellowed, "How he kill Nitro?" "Objection!" barked Doc, leaping up, "the defence is----" "Objection sustained," interrupted Crazy Horse. I tried again. "Ask Mushroom how he thinks I killed Nitro." "How he kill Nitro?" Crazy Horse broke in, bored. "Mushroom, how d'ya think he killed Nitro?" "With his gun," replied Mushroom, puzzled. I whispered another question to Einstein. "Ask him which gun I killed Nitro with? If I was carrying a gun?" "Gun?" uttered Einstein, succinctly, and accidently, paraphrasing my question with a single word. "The one in his arm," stated Mushroom. "Ask him if he's got any proof that I have a gun in my arm," I whispered to Einstein. "Proof?" he repeated confused. Crazy Horse sat up in his arm-chair. "Look, we can cut ya arm open if ya want?" I thought for a second. "No further questions." Sapphire. Sapphire: 17:59:34> Activated. One of the criminal charges I face is murder. What defences are there against murder. Sapphire: 17:59:41> Homicide is legal in the following cases: Where it is in self-defence, and that degree of force is necessary to avoid the attack. Where it is necessary to prevent violence (violence must be of equal magnitude). Where it is accidental. Additionally, the injuries caused by the alleged murderer must have been the substantial reason for the actual death of the victim. Does kidnapping have a self-defence defence. Sapphire: 17:59:58> Kidnapping is termed false imprisonment, which comes under the category of trespass against the person. It can be legitimate to trespass against a person, if it is for purposes of self-defence. I had just finished reading when Doc called his second witness, Princess. "When you left this building," he asked, "in the company of the defendant, did you leave voluntarily?" "No," she uttered. "Why did you leave." "Because he told me if I said anything he'd blow my fucking brains out!" Another chorus of wild laughter broke out behind, turning to cries of surprise when the bench they were sitting on toppled over, depositing them onto their backs with a loud crash. Sheepishly, they righted the bench and sat back down. "And he then dragged you away?" "Yes." Doc turned to Crazy Horse. "No further questions or witnesses." I stood up and prodded Einstein. "Ask her why she thinks I tried to escape?" He advanced over to her, his huge bulk towering over her. "Why you think he escape?" he demanded. "Because we were going to kill him!" she squeaked. "Is there a point to this?" queried Crazy Horse, glaring at me. I took that as permission to speak. "Under Bretenek law, homicide is lawful if it's in self-defence, and if the degree of force used is necessary to avoid being killed." "So?" "Princess has just said that I was going to be killed. Therefore I was entitled to use force to escape. Since Nitro had a gun on me, I had to kill him." Crazy Horse thought for a moment. "Would that law apply to a prisoner who'd been condemned t' death. Could he kill a copper when escaping?" "Well no," I admitted. "Well we wasn't going to kill ya," he smirked, "we was going to execute ya. So ya didn't have the right t' kill Nitro." "But what right did you have to execute me?" I asked desperately. "I own this city," he countered instantly, "and the law's what I say. You ask what right we got? Same right we got t' try ya now, and since ya taking part in our trial, I figure that means ya say we got the right." He leant back in his chair, smirked at Doc, and ruffled Princess hair. Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Shit. He spoke once more. "Ya wanna call any witnesses?" I made to speak, but he cut me off, pointing at Einstein. "Einstein," I whispered, "call the nurse." "Nurse!" called Einstein, "nurse!" The girl who had treated me walked hesitantly into the court area. "Ask her if she treated Nitro after I shot him." "Did you," he paused, scratching his head. "Treat Nitro," I prompted, whispering in his ear. "Treat Nitro, after...after he shot him?" A grin slowly spread over his rounded face as he reached the end of the sentence. "Yes," she answered, trembling slightly. "Ask her what the cause of death was." "Cause of death?" parroted Einstein. "Death was caused by three shots to the head, followed by extensive burns to the upper portion of the body." The voice was cold and distant. "Ask if the shots would have killed him on their own," I instructed Einstein, sounding the words slowly and clearly. "Would shots 'ave killed him... on their own?" he queried hesitantly. "Yes," she replied, casting a nervous glance in Crazy Horse's direction. "Are you sure?" I asked her directly, forgetting my orders. She looked straight into my eyes. "You shot him three times through the centre of his head. He was probably dead before he hit the fire." The crack of the hammer on the breeze-block echoed across the basement. "Have you got any more?" asked Crazy Horse. I shook my head. He stood up and called to someone behind. "Take the prisoner away while I consider my judgement." "Sorry," she told me when she came to give me some further injections, "I was just telling the truth." She looked away, disturbed. "It's okay," I reassured her. "I don't think it was supposed to be a fair trial anyway." I touched her chin, and gently pulled her face around to face me. "When I asked how you got here, you said it was a long story. Got any time?" She looked around at the two guards overlooking us, both within earshot, then shrugged. "It's not actually that long." She looked down at the floor, and continued. "I was a nurse, but I was also an acolyte for the Knights. I took my first vows on my fourteenth birthday. Then one day I refused to give God's love to a particular agency executive. A very powerful agency executive. I was tried by an internal court, and found guilty of blasphemy." "What did they do to you?" "I was sent to a labour camp, out on the surface somewhere south of Birmingham. They declared me legally dead, and told my family I'd been killed in an air-car crash." "They did that!" I said shocked. "To a citizen?" She smiled bitterly. "There are plenty of things they do to citizens. They just don't shout about it. Anyway, after about nine months I managed to escape. Crazy Horse and Doc found me, and that's how I ended up here. When they found me, I was near death. I'd have died if it wasn't for them." "Is that why you stay with them? Because they saved you?" "Where else is there to go?" she asked me sadly. "And besides, I worked and lived on the surface for nine months. With the toxins, radiation and UV I picked up there - I won't see thirty. Compared to how civilised society has treated me - I don't think this lot are so bad." I forced a smile. "Well as someone who's about to be executed by this lot, you'll pardon me if I don't share your opinion." "Like I said, I'm sorry. But the way you just turned up here, and the story you told. Well, nobody believes it. I don't know who you are, or why you came here. But I think you made the wrong decision. And it looks like you're going to pay for it." The gavel crashed down, silencing the chatter. Crazy Horse's voice broke the resulting silence. "After some thought, I've made a judgement. Doc has proved that the defendant killed Nitro, and that he forcibly abducted Princess." He paused, glancing around the room, allowing the tension to build. "I therefore find the defendant guilty of both charges." "Time to die, man," leered a vicious looking coder, "time to die!" "Die, die, die!" cheered the crowd. Crazy Horse raised a hand. "I've also considered the sentence." His eyes locked on mine, then flicked down to Princess. "Although he is guilty of the charges, he also saved Princess. His gun was out of ammo, and she had fallen. He could have left the dogs to rip her apart, and get away. Instead, he went back and saved her." Confusion swept his followers, and they fell silent. "Because of this, I'm suspending his sentence of execution." A few protests were muttered from the corners of the room. He stood up, and strode forward. "Anyone care to disagree? Anyone think they'd make a better judge?" No-one moved. He nodded in satisfaction, and motioned me over. "I said your sentence was suspended. You figure what I mean by that?" I nodded. "It means I better cooperate if I want to leave here." "Yeah. And this time you'd better level with me." He advanced to within a few inches. "If ya sprout more crap about ya grandfather..?" He let the threat hang. "Got it." "Okay. Why did you come here?" It was time to tell the truth. "I'm looking for someone. I was told he came to Oxford recently, to see the leader of a scavenger gang. I don't know why." "This someone," he probed, "what was his name?" "He called himself the Rook. I don't know what his real name was. Did he come?" He said nothing for a long while, presumably calculating the odds. Finally he made a decision. "Yeah he came." "Was he alone?" "Should he 'ave been?" "When he left, to come here - he had a girl with him." "I always thought he had someone waiting outside," Crazy Horse muttered distantly. "No. He didn't have no-one with him. How do ya know him?" I laughed darkly. "I don't. I just need to find him. To tell you the truth I don't even know much about his appearance." He thought for a moment, then looked past me. "Doc. Need the album." Doc walked over, tapping on his comp-pad, then handed it over. "We er... like to take snaps of everyone we deal with," said Crazy Horse in explanation. "Hidden cameras?" I suggested, wondering where they were this time. "Yeah," replied Crazy Horse, handing over the comp-pad. "I didn't show ya this, 'kay?" I took the pad and studied the screen. A hard, stern face stared back from a blurred, but recognisable picture. Sapphire. Sapphire: 18:37:28> Activated. Save the picture that's displayed on the screen of the comp-pad I'm holding in front of me as Rook1. Sapphire: 18:37:35> Saved as Rook1. I handed the comp-pad back to Crazy Horse, who cleared the screen, then handed it back to Doc. His eyes fixed on mine again. "You might as well tell me what else it is ya want t' know." "I need to know where he went," I replied, "that's all." He laughed out loud. "That's all. Why should I tell ya that, Cit'zen?" I glanced over at Princess, laughing and joking with a couple of coder girls. "Because I saved your girlfriend?" "True," he conceded, nodding. "I didn't tell ya this either, and don't ask for no more." He took a deep breath, then spoke quietly." He was going to the Pleasure Dome." I picked up the backpack and started up the last of the ramps, towards the night sky above. A voice called from behind. I turned round and looked down into the gloom. It was Crazy Horse, Princess standing beside him. "Good luck citizen," cooed Princess. I ignored her, and waited for Crazy Horse to speak. "Ya breath a word cit'zen, t' anyone, 'specially the Rook," he whispered, "ya know what will happen." "Yeah, I know," I muttered, "don't talk, don't come back." He took a step forward, anger spreading over his face. "Don't judge me citizen. It's alright for you. When this is over, ya can go back home t' ya nice apartment, in ya nice city. Not me. I got no choice. Never did neither. They made me for the shit, but I won't live like that." He paused, looked to Princess, then looked back. "I'm not a killer, cit'zen. I just have t' kill." Copyright � 1994, 2002 Jonny Nexus |
