

## The

## Search

## for

## Locardum

## (A Brell Sturlach Adventure)

## by

## Stuart F. Dodds

### Copyright

Copyright © 2017 by Stuart F. Dodds

All Rights Reserved

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

***

Published by Stuart F. Dodds

ISBN: 978-0-9932065-4-2

Third edition (2019)

***

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyrighted property of

the author, and may not be redistributed to others for commercial or non-commercial

purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own

copy from their favorite authorized retailer. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

***

Cover design by Stuart F. Dodds and Rachel Bostwick.

***

Discover other titles by Stuart F. Dodds

1. Deep Yellow (A Brell Sturlach Adventure)

2. The Fight for Locardum (A Brell Sturlach Adventure)

3. Billie

***

Table of contents

### Chapter 1 – The Grease Pit

The Grease Pit bar and grill was one of many drinking establishments situated by the dock area of Moon Thirty-Two. Located mid galaxy, at the convergence of four main space lanes, the constructed moon provided a stopover for long-haul charter and freighter crews to refuel and relax.

Mainly frequented by cargo pilots, the bar provided a level of ambience suited to their rough, galaxy-weary tastes. Though prone to arguments, the individuals were a hardy bunch, willing to assist colleagues in difficulty, particularly in deep space.

Importantly, they treated Brell Sturlach as a fellow pilot.

On entering, Brell took in the familiar smoked leaf smells, the low-beat music, and the general hubbub of workers relaxing after long space tours. In one area, three people played _shin shon_ , a game whereby unequally weighted spheres are thrown up into a series of suspended targets. Other people just stared at sports screens.

She picked her way between tables to reach the other side of the bar. Easily recognised by her pale blue skin, Brell stopped briefly to speak to fellow pilots and shake hands. Other men gazed at her, arms folded, or shouted out a comment. One male, Brell noticed, dressed in oily overalls, stared at her, mouthing insults to his large-headed colleague whose tongue stuck out from between his lips.

Brell caught the man's attention; it was a look of animosity. Ignoring him, she shrugged her shoulders. Despite the bar's mix of people from across the Association, women pilots remained in the minority.

Her friend Wanda sat at a corner table, away from the hardened drinkers propping up the bar who gazed at anything resembling a female. As usual, she was drinking, smoking, and exchanging gossip with others.

"Hi, Wanda, been a while. Want a top-up?" Brell said, leaning down to give her a hug.

"Don't mind if I do," Wanda said.

"One intox beer, one non-intox beer and a Kir spirit," Brell said to the hovering waiter bot.

The two women could not have been more different.

Brell was taller than her friend, with a skin colour the result of a mixed union between her blue-skinned mother, a native of Celeste, and her unknown white father. With a round face, oval brown eyes, a low wide forehead and short black hair, she enjoyed keeping herself fit with punchbag routines, having recently turned forty-one.

Wanda, a well-built woman with off-white skin, barely bothered to comb her dark brown hair. Wearing a battered pilot jacket with faded badges, a thin roll of herbal leaf stuck out the corner of her mouth.

"How's life treating you?" Wanda said.

"Good. Things are up. Got plenty of work. Yourself?" Brell swigged her beer.

"Okay, getting by workwise. Spinney is well ... you know, acting like any fifteen-year-old. Remember that?"

"Don't go there. Is she with you?"

"On board our rental at the moment, in the freighter park. A tricky age, but she seems interested in piloting, so I've got her checking all the systems. When are you embarking?"

"Mid-morning, medium load to Elytia, thought I'd wait for the early morning rush to finish. Negotiated a park and hotel deal. Makes a nice change."

"To the capital, eh? How's your new freighter? What did you call it?" Wanda said, tipping the Kir spirit into her beer glass.

"Renamed it the _Lulu_. Originally it was called the _Hokey-Pokey_."

" _Hokey-Pokey_? Sounds like a sad lonely pilot looking for love. Bit like me."

They clinked glasses.

"I've finished interior alterations, as everything was bound in leather. I found some secret hidey-holes, but I don't want to guess what they contained. Anyway, the engines and tech are all in very good condition. The loan payments are quite a bit. You?"

"Well, you know me, can't keep the credits. However, we get by. I'm always able to get freighter work, so someone must like me."

Wanda lit another leaf roll, dutifully smoking it whilst taking a glug of beer.

"What's that one?" Brell said, pointing to the packet of smokes.

"Healthy, for weight loss. Fragrant rose, for the ladies." Wanda took a puff. "Want one?"

"Prefer the real stuff – rolled leaf weed in a smoke tube – but only when I need one. Healthy ones lack something."

"Flavour?" Wanda took out the leaf roll and wiped her lips, placing it back in the corner of her mouth. She glanced across the bar. "Heads up."

A large, bearded male, wearing a pilot jumpsuit and boots, walked up to them, a thin-faced male traipsing behind.

"Well if it isn't my two favourite ladies," he said, looking the two women up and down.

"Well if it isn't my least favourite cargo pilot. Dropping off a load of paperclips, Wark?" Wanda said.

"Ha ha," he said. "Hey, Brell, still reviewing the streams of you naked on _Convict Challenge_ fighting with a security bot. Ever thought of nude wrestling for a living?" He turned to his friend, who giggled back.

"She was fighting for her survival. Can't imagine your sweaty arse doing anything like that," Wanda said loudly.

Background murmurs of conversation stopped.

"Still got a good body though. Fit. Good for your age," he said, rubbing his chest in admiration. "Hey, almost forgot – I found something for you."

Pulling out a small bottle, he waggled it at Brell before placing it on the table next to her beer.

"Thought you'd enjoy it. It's a Deep Yellow colour and helps your joints," he winked.

Brell had seen and heard it all before. Police Corps, Deep Yellow, or blue skin jokes. Opening the bottle, she recoiled. It smelled rancid.

"Smells like your armpit soap. If you used any, that is," she said sarcastically, throwing the bottle towards a tidy bot, which dutifully scooped it up.

"Wouldn't want you to get busted and end up in prison again. Heard those women prisoners get, you know, urges," he said, making a weak smile.

"Hey, which lodging you staying in?" Wanda said.

He turned from his friend's giggles to face Wanda.

"Pilots' Palace," he said, uncertainly, frowning.

"I heard they had to replace all the pleasure bots after you last stayed there," Wanda said. "The female and the male ones."

"Very funny." He paused. "Wanda, I've just read a message from Dockside Regulators about the size of your backside being a safety issue. They're worried your freighter won't lift off."

Wanda grabbed the table edge and stood up, hands clenched.

Putting his hands up in surrender, he said, "Hey Wanda, it's a joke, you know—"

Wanda punched him before he finished his sentence. Clasping his chin, he moved his mouth back and forth as a chorus of cheers erupted from onlookers.

"Want some more?" Wanda said, shouting at him, her right fist clenched.

Brell put one hand over Wanda's arm, grabbing the back of her jacket with the other.

"It's done, Wanda. Sit down, come on. Wark will apologise, won't you?"

He took his hand away from his mouth whilst muttering an apology under his breath. His colleague pulled him towards the bar, well away from Wanda. Conversations picked up again as people went back to drinking. Just another dust-up between pilots.

Wanda sat back down. "Fragger," she said, blowing out a breath whilst shaking her hand.

"All done now. Have another drink," Brell said, holding her glass in the air. "Here's to the next load."

"The next load," Wanda said. Having composed herself, she laughed and clinked glasses.

"You know, he has quite a fit body and I like his beard. He asked me out a while back," Wanda said, moving her head towards Brell and winking.

"Wanda, for frig's sake," Brell said, shaking her head.

"Everyone needs a bit of lovin'. How's your hunk ... I mean, other half?"

"Gorst is fine, working hard. Should be seeing him soon."

Wanda elbowed Brell lightly in the ribs, raising her eyebrows.

"Anything else to report?" Wanda said.

"We're talking about trying for a baby again, now that the cargo business is up and running."

"Best of luck with that. If you need any tips ..." Wanda winked.

Brell laughed back.

They ordered food and caught up on the latest gossip, whilst moaning about docking fees, fussy speed bots, regulations, and men.

Finally, Wanda said, "Well, I'm off across the far side tomorrow. An early start. Don't want to leave Spinney for too long on her own." She placed her hands on the table.

"Wanda, I'll walk you back, look in on Spinney. My hotel isn't far away. I know a shortcut, be nice to breathe fresh air."

***

After a pleasant few minutes with Wanda and Spinney, Brell waved goodbye and walked through a gate set within a high fence. The fence surrounded the freighter parking lot, buzzing and crackling with static charge to keep out those tempted to steal space craft or their cargoes.

After walking a short distance along a dimly lit path, she stopped. Was someone nearby?

"Here we are, all alone, no witnesses," a male voice said, his voice guttural and menacing.

### Chapter 2 – All alone

Brell brought up her hands, ready to fend off the expected attack. Lightly stepping backwards, listening intently, her eyes scanned the area.

Smelling of urine mixed with rotten vegetables, the alleyway ran along the rear of a hotel block. Occasional patches of light radiated from the rooms above ground level, as loud muffled music blasted out from its basement. Service doors of varying heights, to accommodate people and utility bots, lined the building.

Rough hands grabbed her from behind, fingers stretching to lock themselves into a forceful grip and pinning her arms. Unable to counteract the assault, immobilised, Brell felt a pair of hips grinding into her backside.

"Fun," a male voice said, sniggering through his teeth, the voice deeper than the first male with the guttural voice.

Two males it is then.

Wet slobbering lips touched the side of her neck, making her shudder. As the first male revealed himself, the arms around her chest relaxed their strength a fraction. Kicking back with her right heel, she connected with a bony shin. Wriggling back and forth, the male grunted and started to stumble as he held on. Pushing backwards, she sensed the male's balance falter.

Pain exploded near her left eye.

Her legs wobbling, she buckled sideways onto the ground as the male relaxed his grasp.

"Saw you enjoying yourself tonight with your fat friend. Thought it was about time someone took the smile off your face," the first male said.

As she lifted her head, gravel shards peeled off her cheek as she saw the barrel of a laser pistol pointing at her. Taking a few short breaths, she steadied herself and focussed. Certainly two males involved, a laser weapon, no sign of anyone else nearby, but they were too strong for her. Her mini self-defence weapon, secure in her jumpsuit, dug into her side.

"Grab her."

Hauling her up, they pushed her back against a large metal rubbish bin. Two men stood in front of her, their faces catching the light. One had slicked-back hair and a craggy face, the other, a large head with a tongue that lolled between his wet lips. Both wore oily overalls. The same two men she'd noticed earlier, glaring at her, in the Grease Pit.

Only the first male with the craggy face held a weapon, a dependable model, capable of making a deadly mess. He held it steady, purposeful, suggesting a familiarity with weapons.

Sensing the growing pain, she touched her cheek, saying, "What do you want?"

"What do we want?" Craggy Face said. "We're going to teach you a lesson. Can't use your fancy celebrity ways here."

"That was nearly two years ago. I just pull cargo now," Brell said.

Standing silently, brooding, the craggy-faced male rubbed his chin.

Brell sensed this was a key moment, when lives change because of an unexplainable split-second decision. Her options included assault and abandonment in the alleyway, or being kidnapped to receive further punishment.

Craggy Face noticed Brell glancing over at the security gate. "Hold her arm," he said, surveying the area.

Fingers gouged into her left arm whilst he studied her eyes, hoping for a sign of capitulation. She stared at him whilst pushing a finger underneath a pocket flap.

Reaching out, he grasped Brell's chin, giving it a slight twist. A finger poked into the top of her throat, causing her to swallow hard. Music and laughter drifted out from a hotel room, as she felt his finger moving slowly, tracing a line down to the zip of her pilot's jumpsuit. The other male squeezed her arm harder.

After stowing his pistol into a back pocket, Craggy Face grasped the zip fastener, pulling it down several notches.

"Hmm, very nice indeed. Think it's time to take her back to our room," he said, elbowing the other male.

"Fun."

An adjacent service door burst open, flooding the area with light. Wheeling itself out, a tidybot holding a large bin of kitchen scraps swung its arms towards the rubbish bin and waited for an auto sensor to open the lid. Surprised by the three people in the way, it hesitantly reversed into a different position, knocking into one of the men.

Using the distraction, Brell tilted a shoulder, allowing her hand to stretch down her jumpsuit. Popping open a fastening, she stared at Craggy Face as her fingers curled around the weapon. He still held onto the zip as if mesmerised. Keeping her arm still, she flexed her wrist.

P-zap.

A small bolt of power sank into the other male's leg. His hands gripped tighter and then loosened on her arm, so she immediately zapped him again. Aware of his friend being stunned, Craggy Face stepped back, his hand fumbling towards his back pocket. Brell lifted her weapon.

P-zap.

She shot him in the groin.

Nicknamed the "jolter", when fully charged her weapon could deliver a few low-powered zaps. Not lethal, but sufficient to drop most people to the floor with the shock. Both men blundered into each other in a comedic stumble, their feet failing to respond. With calm concentration, the craggy-faced male grasped his laser.

Brell fired again, but the weapon fizzed and popped. She turned to run in the direction of the security gate. However, a sound of footsteps and wheeled noises from an open service door made her look back.

"Oi, you two. What are you doing?" a female voice shouted.

Clunk.

"Hold on," Craggy Face said, his voice showing surprise.

Clunk.

"Fun?"

Brell stopped still, uncertain as to what she was seeing. The two men stumbled whilst fending off numerous blows to their heads, the laser pistol laying mangled on the ground. After only a weak attempt at fighting back, Craggy Face dragged his colleague away, both leaning on each other as their footsteps receded into the night.

"It's all right, love, they've gone."

Brell wiped across her eye, as much for the pain as in disbelief at the sight of a large woman wearing a chef's white trousers, hat, and jacket, clutching a rolling pin. Utility bots stood at each side of her holding wooden chopping boards. Behind her, a young male kitchen helper looked on, a long root vegetable shaking in his hand.

Now unobstructed, the bot tipped its slops into the refuse bin. As the lid closed, the satisfied bot nodded before wheeling back into the kitchen.

"Are you okay?"

"A bit bashed up but I'll be all right. My hotel isn't far – it has a medical bot."

"Come in here first to clean yourself up," the chef said.

Leading Brell into a kitchen, she sat her down and started to wipe her face, motioning for a utility bot to assist.

"Thank you," Brell said, glancing at the chef, whose cheerful ruddy face sweated under the kitchen lights. Cooking smells wafted in the air against a background of bubbling pans and humming auto chefs.

"My rolling pin came in handy. Hang on a moment." She turned her head. "Oi, you lot, get back to work." She aimed her shouts back into the kitchen.

Washing and preparing bots, who had stopped to watch the unfolding events, quickly looked down and continued with their chores.

"Need the Police Corps?"

"No, I'll be fine."

"Drink this, it'll give you some pep."

She gratefully accepted the drink, and its reviving additives worked as soon as they hit her throat. She sat still as the utility bot washed her face and hands with gentle motions.

"What was that all about?" the chef said, putting a hand on Brell's shoulder.

"They ... I don't know. Just wanted a fight, I think. I'll get to my hotel. It'll be okay."

"Well, Henry here will accompany you." She patted the utility bot, who stood up straighter at the request.

"No need."

"I insist. It's not every day we save a convict show celebrity," the chef said with a wry smile.

"I have an occasional bust-up with people who rooted for other challengers and didn't like the fact I won."

"Its history now, isn't it? Two years? Let's have a look at you." The chef examined Brell's face. "A nasty bashing there, but it's all cleaned up. Your cheek and eye will be bruised for some time. You can certainly take care of yourself though."

"I should remember to charge the old jolter a bit more. I don't often carry it."

"Well it worked tonight. Do you want to stay here for a while?"

"No, but thanks very much for the help. I should get back. Got a load to haul in the morning."

"I understand. Henry will take you through to the front lobby. If you return, come and see me. I'll give you the best meal of any constructed service moon in this part of the galaxy."

With Henry at her side, Brell reached her hotel, where an ageing doc bot gave her a thorough examination before administering various treatments. After securing her room, she undressed, dropped all her clothes on the floor, and stepped over them to enter the bathroom.

"Like a frigging pirate," she said, examining the healing patch over her cheek and eye.

She rubbed her stomach, the muscles stiff and painful. After a fine particle beam shower, she set the morning alarm, put on some light clothing, and winced in pain as she settled onto the bed. Lying on her back, with her hands clasped behind her head, she gazed at the ceiling.

Just another incident since the challenge, she told herself. It was certainly better than prison. After a long struggle, her mind slowed down as the feelings of warmth and security under the bed covers lulled her to sleep.

_Blip, blip_. A dimmed display screen brightened.

"What?" she said, realising her personal cube was beeping. "Display on ceiling."

She shielded her good eye from the brightness. Two messages arrived. The first was from an exuberant male.

_Greetings. I'm Valvin from Elytia Holo Beamcasting Company. As you must have seen, we are producing a new version of_ Convict Challenge _. I would like you to be a consultant and commentator during the shows. First meeting is in two weeks' time. We will send you more communications before then. Look forward to working with you._

The rumours published on social streams were true. The producers couldn't resist bringing the programme back, even since the last debacle, when she'd been a contestant on the show. Good news. Hopefully there would be sufficient credits to pay off the loan and she'd own the cargo freighter outright. But, more importantly, it was a chance for her and Gorst to start a family at long last. Wonderful.

She read the second message.

Hello, Brune here. Would like to meet up again, this time for official Police Corps business. As soon as possible. Please contact me. Good fortune.

"Crap," she said aloud.

### Chapter 3 – Police Corps HQ

With mixed feelings, Brell approached the Police Corps headquarters building in the capital city of the planet Elytia. Over a hundred years ago, Elytian scientists had invented space folding and beam propulsion engines, allowing explorers to visit neighbouring planets. Politicians quickly established trade and security agreements, thus creating the Association of Planets, to ensure Elytia held its powerful position within the Vorsan galaxy.

Forming the centrepiece of Police Corps training and administration, the tall, wide building had changed little since her arrival there as a Police Corps recruit over twenty years ago. During her career she had visited the site many times for promotion and training courses.

Since unloading _Lulu_ 's cargo in the early morning, Brell had bought a black trouser and jacket suit off the peg on her way to her meeting with senior officers. Though the clothes were a tight fit, they looked smarter than her pilot's jumpsuit.

Commander Brune S'Tr-Hert sat patiently in the foyer, a valise on his lap, playing with his stiff white shirt collar. A typical Bermian, he was shorter than Brell, with a stout body and brown leathery skin. What he lacked in humour he made up for in dependability. Sharing a similar age with Brell, before joining Police Corps he'd worked as a traffic attendant, enforcing parking regulations on a skyway shopping centre, a job which suited someone with a strong regard for regulations.

Despite his love of rules, he broke them during the final stages of Brell's _Convict Challenge_ , allowing her survival. After their greetings, Brune spoke to a bored holographic security assistant, who waved Brell forward through a security scanner.

"Here's your pass. Please wear it at all times." The security assistant's voice was more boring than its face.

Whilst journeying to the top floor, Brune fiddled with his official issue valise and pulled at his jacket cuffs. His eyes locked on the swelling around Brell's eye, which her last-minute make-up hadn't quite covered.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, just a disagreement. A chef armed with a rolling pin helped me out."

He couldn't think of a reply.

She sized him up. If things had worked out differently in her Police Corps career, she would have been briefing him. That's drug and intox addiction for you.

"Okay, well, remember the deputy takes some getting used to, so just keep cool," Brune said.

"No problem, no kick offs." She put her hands in the air.

Brune nodded, his forehead wrinkling.

The meeting room, with its large oval table, smelled of new carpet and stale air. In true non-creative Police Corps fashion, no pictures adorned the walls. Sitting together on one side of the table, Brune pulled a stack of holo information sheets from his valise, placed his info cube on the desk and sat back to wait for the deputy. Brell sensed the nervousness in his hands. Was she the reason for this or could it be something else?

They didn't have to wait long. Police Corps Deputy Commissioner Vandaros Mourge breezed into the room flanked by a male and female captain, his aides. Brune stood up, his knees hitting the desk, whilst Brell remained seated. Though her years of service still retained a measure of loyalty within her, it didn't mean she would just stand up for anyone these days. Too much history.

"Thank you for coming," he said brusquely, looking to Brell. "Been a while since you were in this building. Lost a fight or something?" The deputy nodded towards her eye.

Brell stared back at him, recognising the man from years ago when she was first allowed out on patrol on her own. Seeing him at a very senior rank was depressing.

"Been a long time, Deputy Commissioner," she said, to emphasise his rank, "and yes I was in a fight." She felt Brune stiffen next to her.

In his fifties, Mourge had an almost permanent scowl on his face. He was a man who revelled in his ability to wriggle out of internal investigations, often gaining promotion instead of facing a disciplinary panel. With shades of Elytian light yellow skin, he sported a precisely cut moustache, which in his own bloated opinion gave him a certain swagger.

Mourge ignored Brell's recognition of him and turned his head. "captain, bring us up to speed, will you."

As the captain , a clean-cut athletic male, stood up, Brell scrutinised his uniform. It belonged to someone used to sitting on their backside in an office, rather than serving on the front-line. A large wide holo screen blinked on, setting itself at a comfortable viewing distance.

"Locardum," he said, as images of grey lumps of ore rotated on screen. "A rare mineral ore mainly used within propulsion drives. A year ago, our researchers made a breakthrough, finding that it can be used to miniaturise heavy laser weapon components. Instead of requiring cumbersome support equipment, one person could carry everything on their back. We believe that Carac Montil" – he looked over at Brell – "found a large deposit of Locardum on planet Grab and shipped it off to an unknown location." Images appeared of Carac working in his office, together with views of the underground mines. Pausing, the captain displayed another graphic. His presentation was slick, well rehearsed.

"The timeline is as follows. Four years ago, Carac finds the Locardum and secretly organises a mining crew. At that time, the ore represented millions of credits to the highest bidder. Soon afterwards, his mining team, including his right-hand man, died in a mid-space explosion. Murder charges weren't brought as there was insufficient evidence to link him to the incident."

Brell listened to the story unfold, unable to see her part in it. Did they need the services of her freighter? She would charge a fair rate plus a bit more for old times' sake.

"Towards the end of the same year, he was arrested and imprisoned for causing the death of nearly two hundred people by knowingly providing faulty mining equipment. A year into his sentence, he took part in _Convict Challenge_."

"Commander S'Tr-Hert ..." the deputy said, with a hint of impatience, his forearms shuffling on the table.

Upon pressing his info cube, Brune realised that his images were being displayed upside down. After a long pause, and with perspiration appearing on his forehead, he fiddled with the cube's settings, managing to get the screen to right itself.

"Okay, sorry about that." He glanced towards the deputy commissioner, who smiled weakly to his aides.

Brell had already made her mind up about the female captain. She was an unsmiling but good-looking woman who did nothing except take basic notes. Perhaps the deputy only wanted certain things recorded.

"Carac Montil, a participant, alongside Brell on the _Convict Challenge_ show, would have divulged the location of the ore, to the crime boss known as the Tinker, had he won." Brune glanced at Brell. "The Tinker tried to fix the challenge so that Carac remained alive by the end of it, he obviously failed in this. We believe Carac secretly arranged for the ore to be shipped to an unknown location whilst in prison. This was to guarantee the Tinker's side of the bargain. His only dependents are his sister Petuna and his niece known as Katey, who disowned him," Brune said, wiping his brow.

The deputy shifted in his seat.

"Sometime this year, the Tinker found out, through department leaks – paid-off insiders or whatever – about the deadly use for Locardum. A weapon of this power and mobility will give his sagging influence a boost over his criminal rivals. It also poses a serious and dangerous threat to Police and Space Corps." He paused to glance at the deputy.

"Can I butt in here?" Brell said, leaning forward. "So Carac would only have known the ore was valuable because of its use in engines. This weapons business has only been discovered this year, which would mean the Tinker is doubling his efforts to find it."

"What about those strange studio twins involvement in all this?" Mourge said, ignoring Brell's interruption.

"Ayleth and Mayleth Lkardis, the challenge show producers, were under the thumb of the Tinker, due to Ayleth's gambling habits. He is missing presumed dead His sister, Mayleth, is serving a life sentence in prison for conspiracy to murder and fraud. She refuses to give any useful information to Police Corps," Brune said, noticing the deputy fiddling with his chronometer.

"Thank you, Commander. Everything fine with the admin storage units?" Mourge said, without taking his eyes off his timepiece.

"Yes, sir," Brune said, lowering his voice, shuffling in his seat.

"Sir, I can brief Brell later if you would like."

"May I say something?" Brell said.

Mourge made a slight hand gesture.

"Carac was selfish, dispassionate, and homicidal. It's not difficult to pay off a cargo pilot to take a load anywhere in the galaxy. There's a good chance it's on a Non-Association planet by now," she said.

Mourge gave a brief smile. "Basically, Miss Sturlach, we want you to dig around and find more information on this Carac Montil – perhaps the murdered challenge show director Williams left some data behind. We need to locate the Locardum. We do not want this Tinker or anyone else to get their hands on it. I want this low-key, no Space Corps Special Forces, a small group, tight-lipped. No one, not even your boyfriend, must be told. Understand?"

"So I've been brought in because you have no idea where the Locardum is?" Brell said, looking directly at Mourge.

"Miss Sturlach, I don't want you here. It was only at Commander S'Tr-Hert's insistence that I even allowed you in this building. Your manner of leaving the Corps was not up to expectations. Despite being a liability, I believe that you may be able to help us, so I am willing to set aside our normal rules in this respect."

"If I say no?" Brell said, sensing Brune's discomfort.

Mourge grinned. "Well, Miss Sturlach, you are a convicted murderer. Any transgressions or fresh allegations from your past may just end up with a recall to prison. I don't suppose a game show will help you out then." He raised an eyebrow at the female captain.

"A threat of a return to prison if I don't help you. That's pretty low. Is this because of us working together in the past?"

"No, Miss Sturlach. In fact, I barely recognised you."

She glanced at Brune. Did he know about the recall to prison? His face showed surprise and concern. The captain bowed her head to examine her notes, and Mourge's face suggested he enjoyed holding Brell's future in his hands.

She wouldn't give him any satisfaction by showing emotion. "As to my conviction for murder, it's an action that I will always regret. My sentence was harsher than a criminal would receive. I was thanked by the widow and an assassin for saving them time and money. Anyway, I served time in prison, and thankfully I was given an official pardon after my exploits on _Convict Challenge_. I'm a free woman now who just wants to pilot cargo around the galaxy and continue with her life."

"Nice speech, Miss Sturlach. But we want to make sure you are on our side, toe the line, call it what you will."

"Okay, I've got the message." Brell put a hand in the air. "If I do this thing for you, apart from not going back to prison, how about I receive a basic pension, lump sum every year, based on my captain rank when I left the Corps? I did pay into the system."

The captain's fingers paused in mid-air, as she appeared uncertain whether to record the conversation.

"Miss Sturlach, I understand you run a private business now, but this is not about credits." Mourge fiddled with his chronometer, weighing up his options. "If you help us locate the Locardum, you will be granted your pension. If not, get used to prison food again." Nodding to his two officers, he stood up, the meeting apparently over.

Brune elbowed Brell before she could speak again. They waited whilst the deputy exited the office with his aides.

"What a frigging arse. What the hell was the prison threat all about, Brune? What's going on?" She splayed her hands out.

Brune put a finger to his lips as he glanced around the room. She nodded back.

After stuffing the holo sheets back into his valise, Brune said, "Let's go for a walk."

### Chapter 4 – Old friends

They found themselves walking a circular route around the Corps estate. Teams of Corpsmen and women marched along the pedestrian routes, and newly promoted senior officers swanked about whilst utility bots kept everything tidy. After venting her anger, Brell calmed down as old memories returned.

"Takes me back," she said. "The examination building is still here. Block of doom, we called it." She pointed at an austere brown concrete building. "Was Corps Trainer Cantlerr around during your training?"

"Yes, very strict. Her nickname was 'Auntie Cantie'. Well that was one of the nicer names," Brune said, flushing.

"My moment of fame was when old Cantie ran towards me in one of those exercise rooms with a live shock baton. I had trained hard by then, so I just side-stepped and grabbed her overalls. I swung her around and onto the ground, picked up her baton and jabbed at her a few times. The assessor was so amused it took a while for him to make me stop, by which time she shuddered uncontrollably. I had to stay out of her way for the rest of my training."

Brune didn't reply, having been lost in his own thoughts. "I remember trying to find the planets on that interactive Association map – absolute disaster."

"It's easy now as I've visited most of them to pick up cargo, except the Non-Association planets. The distances are mind-blowing. I do wonder how much simpler things would have been if space travel was still just a theory," Brell said.

"Elytia wouldn't be the place it is now, that's for sure."

"And you wouldn't have joined my shift on Grab," Brell said, nudging him.

After finding a quiet table in the all-ranks restaurant, Brune supplied some frothy drinks and biscuits. He set a small cube on the table and touched the side of it.

"I've activated an audio umbrella, which also blurs any images taken of us. Senior officer's toy," he said, tapping the top of the box.

"What was that meeting about, Brune? Captain Starch and Glamorous, have they ever made an arrest?" Brell said, without taking a breath.

"Deputy Mourge is looking to get promoted to commissioner. He recommended my disciplinary board a couple of years ago when I intervened on your behalf on the show," he said, peering at his shirt cuffs.

"Well, you probably can sense I knew him from the past."

"I gathered that."

"I'll make it brief. When I was on my first shift team, Mourge was our duty inspector. He was ill-mannered and arrogant, relying heavily on his sergeants to run the shift, whilst he cosied up to senior officers. I went to a domestic incident which kicked off and I called for assistance. Guess who was first to arrive? Things were calmer by then, but soon all hell broke loose after he insulted and blamed a half-clothed woman for causing the incident. He smacked her and then handed the woman over to me. Thankfully other officers arrived and we bundled everyone back to the station. The booking-in sergeant told me to write Mourge out of the matter. The court case was lost and I received an admonishment for poor handling of the situation."

"Did anything happen with Mourge?"

"I got drunk, blabbed, and slagged him off openly at a drink-up in earshot of senior officers. Mourge found out and furiously pushed me against a wall. He had to leave and take a posting in another galaxy sector as it put a dent in his promotion prospects."

"He could have been commissioner by now, I suppose."

"Hence the prison thing - his little way of getting back at me, I suppose. Anyway, to the present, let's cut the crap, Brune. What am I not being told?" Brell picked up her cup, took a quick sip, her gaze not leaving his.

After scratching the back of his head, he brought his hands together onto the table in front of him, his face showing concern.

"If the Tinker finds the Locardum and creates this super weapon, then buildings, innocent people, Police Corps vehicles, and even Space Corps attack craft are all targets. It'll cause chaos."

"What else?" Brell could tell Brune was holding something back.

"Additional intelligence leads us to believe that laser teams will be the first Police Corps units to be taken out." He sat back, grabbing his cup but not taking a sip.

"And of course, my partner Gorst would be leading from the front with laser teams, as always ..." She let her voice trail off. This represented a far more serious issue than just searching for ore.

"That's all I know. We've got to put our heads together and think it through."

"But Locardum is mined elsewhere, not just on Grab where Carac worked. It's used in engines."

"Yes, in small quantities for engines. Nothing of the size believed found by Carac. Legislation passed recently makes all Locardum ore subject to very strict security conditions of use. Prison sentences for mishandling. It's not a publicised fact."

Brell's mind spun. From believing they wanted to hire her freighter, she now realised the personal implications involved. Was it payback for being free, or did they need her experience? Wouldn't life be easier if she could just haul cargo across the galaxy until she was too old to continue. Today's meeting changed things. She was involved whether she wanted to be or not.

Sinking into silence, Brell crunched a biscuit for moment. Brune did the same.

"Prison. That deputy is a bastard." She shook her head.

" _Convict Challenge_ is back soon. Same bunch of murderers?" Brune said, changing the subject.

"Yes, I forgot to say," Brell pepped up, grateful for his interjection. "This is not known outside the studios, but they suggested in their early communications that I could interview Mayleth. She's incarcerated in my old cell. It will make good viewing, apparently."

"Good, perhaps you can get through to her. Detectives tried but gave up. She was unwilling to talk about her brother or anything else," Brune said.

"I'll shake her up a bit, see if there's anything she can add to this Locardum thing. She must have met the Tinker when her brother was gambling."

"We have to be very circumspect – no leaks, no being overheard. We can't let anyone know," he said, rubbing his hands together.

"Don't worry, I'll be quiet. Gorst doesn't need to know at the moment. It would just make him more stressed. As distasteful as it is, I'll check into Carac's life. There might be something useful there from the studio interviews."

"I'm glad you agreed to come on board. Well, after today, you don't have any choice. Again, I say it was none of my doing."

"I know."

"I'm happy to see you. We need your experience and knowledge," Brune said, as if he had been rehearsing that line.

Ignoring him, Brell pointed to his audio umbrella. "Do we have secure comms when we need to communicate? Also, I could do with one of those senior officer toys."

"I'll send you and Scrivvens the connection details."

"Scrivvens? He's with us?"

"Yes, when he finishes his current undercover assignment. His knowledge of bots and security systems will be invaluable. I sometimes think he prefers to be in the robotic rather than the real world."

"I owe him a great deal, as I do you." She tapped his hand.

"It's history now. Update me with what you're doing and send me any expenses, with a receipt preferably." He glanced down at the comms cube. "A work call. I'll walk you out. You have to hand the pass back."

Making their way back to the front entrance, they chatted about family and old times. Brell gave a small wave to Brune as she left. Good old Brune and his expense receipts.

Catching two glide buses, she travelled back to the _Lulu_ for the night, as the apartment, owned by the studio, wasn't ready for occupancy until the next day.

### Chapter 5 – Scrivvens

Police Corps Inspector Scrivvens propped a metal food tray against the wall and stepped into an empty servant's alcove on the private corridor of the Association of Pleasure building. Built in the style of a domed palace of a revered ancient civilisation, it catered for any visitor from the Associated Worlds. It was a mini-town in its own right, with kitchens, staff quarters, and medicos.

Robots could plug themselves into a dream state in a lounge area, whilst their owners satisfied their personal needs in one of many themed rooms populated with bots, holographs, or expensive real people.

Using bold finger movements, Scrivvens checked a mini holo screen. Encased in a metal robotic body, he tilted his unsmiling face as he tapped on the screen. Wearing an oversized waiter's uniform made of real fabric allowed him to carry a few necessities, as well as allowing access to most parts of the building.

His confident quiet nature hid a shy, unassuming man who preferred the company of robots to real people. Underneath the metal façade, he was in his thirties, with a youthful smiling face, which belied his age, risk-taking, and Corps experience. Studying the screen, he confirmed the banker, his target, was still in the meeting room at the end of the corridor, and Flight Drone Alpha flew nearby waiting for a signal.

Though micro air-conditioned, his suit was clammy with sweat. Raising his hand, he clunked it on his head, a reflex action as if to wipe a small line of sweat on his forehead. The next few minutes would either validate the last three months of work or create untold damage to local business and Corps relations. He could be on the first space bus off the planet on the way to a new job policing space lanes.

A female bot wearing a long-sleeved, low-cut red dress and high-heeled shoes sauntered towards him. With medium-length hair, a round face and a voluptuous figure, the bot appeared to be a typical pleasure model. Her outer skin was softer than a normal hard bot shell, and certain body parts were made of "real" flexible tactile materials.

Scrivvens relaxed his shoulders on seeing her. "Delta, all okay?"

She put a hand up to his metal arm. "No problem, honey," she said, her voice smooth, comforting.

"Any problems with front door security?"

"No. They believe I'm working downstairs. You?"

"Waiter suit did the trick." He examined his screen again. "The banker is in the meeting room. Four security operatives are guarding the door." His head leaned down towards his screen to ensure his large robotic finger pressed two oversized buttons. "Signal sent to Corps team and Flight Drone Alpha is on a ninety-second countdown. We can't wait for the Corps, the banker may have an escape room. Ready?"

Discreetly taking out a pistol from her handbag, she passed it to Scrivvens, who, after adjusting some settings, held the weapon underneath the metal tray. With low lighting and monotone music playing in the background, they walked along the carpeted passage. Scrivvens' stiff method of walking was at odds with Delta's sauntering gait.

"Stop. Stand still," a bot said, loudly, its voice purposefully programmed with a serious tone.

Wearing a tuxedo-style suit over their light-framed bodies, both bots simultaneously pointed their weapons at Scrivvens and Delta. Next to the bots stood two males dressed in black suits, hands twitching on their heavy automatics. With faces like a boxer's sparring partner, they flexed their shoulders and necks.

"Stand back," one of the men said.

"Boys, I have been specially requested for entertainment in the room," Delta said.

"Special request?" One of the men moved his head fractionally, awaiting a message. "Not informed." He levelled his weapon. "No authorisation."

"Special request. Special authorisation," Scrivvens said, his voice synthesised into a monotonous robot voice.

Stepping forward a pace, a security bot poked a laser muzzle onto Scrivvens' chest, a grim expression appearing on its holo face.

"Boys," Delta said, "we can work this out. Speak to your boss." She rotated her head to a slight angle, smiling broadly.

"Stand back. Ten seconds to move away."

Scrivvens, aware the bot would fire, stood his ground nevertheless. A criminal-backed pleasure palace did not fear repercussions from the law. Knowing which way to jump should his gamble not pay off, he got ready.

"Five seconds ..." The security bot adjusted its finger on the trigger.

Delta remained motionless.

The lights went out.

P-zap.

A bolt thudded into a wall, a streak of blue in the darkness, narrowly missing a sidestepping Scrivvens. Moments later, the music started back up and the lights glowed dimly before springing to full brightness. The two security bots stood still, heads bowed, arms down, pistols dangling from their fingers.

Percussive explosions sounded from a lower floor. The ceiling lights dimmed, this time accompanied by shouts and screams from downstairs.

"Let's get the boss out," a male said, turning to the door as the other tried to communicate with his control room.

_P-zap, p-zap_.

Both males stopped mid movement, with no option but to fall to the floor, having lost all balance and feeling in their legs. Scrivvens lowered his jolter and put the tray down.

Delta shot the two security bots in their ankles, after which they collapsed next to their twitching colleagues. She swapped weapons with Scrivvens and zapped the two men again for good measure.

Scrivvens stuck two small square patches on the door hinges as more booms sounded. The room occupants must be aware of the raid and could be halfway into an escape tunnel. No time to wait.

Boof.

As the hinges disintegrated, Scrivvens kicked the door down, entering the room through a film of smoke, and fired two laser shots into the far wall. Inside, the only person remaining in their seat was a male, who sat impassively at the end of a central table, a spectator to the proceedings. The banker.

The remaining three people were standing up expectantly.

Speaking in an undiscernible language, a man, clearly the one in charge, shouted out a command at which the two blockheads either side of him produced pistols and confidently aimed them at Scrivvens.

"Are you on your own?" the boss said, holding his hands out.

Delta sashayed in, holding the jolter.

The men laughed. "Is this your backup?"

"Say the word, boss."

"Before I get my boys to zap your body to bits, metalhead, who's your master?"

Scrivvens remained silent.

Shouts and clomping boots sounded from outside the room.

"Hold on, boys, our backup is here," the boss said, smiling confidently.

His face dropped as six Police Corps officers dressed in combat uniform entered the room in crouched positions, laser rifles pointing at everyone.

"Who are you?" the boss said, shouting, as his hands were being "quick tied" behind his back.

Raising both hands, Scrivvens pressed the sides of his metal neck. Everyone, including the Corps officers, stared open-mouthed in anticipation as the helmet was taken off.

"Inspector Scrivvens. Police Corps. You are all under arrest," he said, his face red and sweaty.

"What are we being arrested for?" the boss said, fidgeting in his chair, a Corps officer standing over him.

"Credit laundering, drug dealing, handling stolen property, bot trafficking, bot slavery, theft, credit fraud, fraud and tax evasion," Scrivvens said.

"And your evidence?" the boss said, laughing confidently and looking at the others. "You don't have anything."

The sight of Scrivvens standing in a bot suit, head exposed, dressed as a waiter, did not appear to inspire the confidence of local police chief Grenson when he entered the room. He examined Scrivvens and Delta, showing obvious uncertainty regarding his decision to allow this undercover operation to take place. Anything involving The Pleasure Palace would require explanations to local business committees.

"All corridors secured. Officers are in the basement checking pleasure bot IDs for any slaves," the police chief said.

"Thank you, sir," Scrivvens said.

"Hi, Mr Grenson. Your boy here says we're under arrest. Where's the evidence? Any problems with bots' IDs are the fault of the agency we use. They are fully certificated; all models imprint their permission before working," the boss said, smiling at Grenson.

"Inspector?" the senior officer said.

Scrivvens felt all eyes turn on him in an awkward silence.

"Delta," he said, keeping his voice steady.

Walking around the table, Delta swayed her hips as she approached the banker. "Remember me on Beam Street outside? Said your tie wasn't straight and I adjusted it for you."

Looking back and forth, the banker frowned. Delta gently placed her fingers behind his tie. Pulling out a minute black disc, she placed it into a small device inside her handbag. Scrivvens unfolded a fine gauze square of material and nodded at Delta.

The unmistakable cocky voice of the boss boomed out of the gauze audio speaker.

" _Thank you for coming. We have accrued so many credits, we don't know what to do with them. We need financial advice, investments, you know, where to put it, secure like."_

Holding his hands up, Scrivvens said, "We've got a recording device which Delta planted on the banker as he walked from the restaurant to here."

"Frigging useless, frigger," the boss said, deflated. "Told you to search him properly," he said towards his lieutenants.

"I did, boss, full scan. Well, sort of, he's an important gentleman."

With the boss shouting at his lieutenant, the mood lightened in the room, helped by the senior officer realising solid evidence was available. The Corps had been on the trail of the banker for years.

Delta played an excerpt.

" _Them girls downstairs, in the basement, easy, false IDs. Use them until they break. Best ones are the reconditioned personal maid bots."_

"That's enough for now," Scrivvens said. "Sir, time for these people to be processed."

"Scrivvens, good job. Officers, take the prisoners to HQ." He gave more orders via his comms implant.

The banker scowled at Scrivvens as he was led from the room. Once the room had emptied of officers and prisoners, the senior officer turned to Scrivvens.

"How did you know the meeting was here?"

"Intelligence told us the banker would arrive in the city this evening. We knew he had a penchant for fine dining, so we focussed on the restaurant he used before. The location of the meeting could vary between five possible venues. Part guess, part intuition. Five likely buildings were scanned and weak power cable points plotted. After planting a location device on him, I followed him here."

"Location device? Where did you hide it?"

"Clothing can be imbued with anything these days – scanners, jammers and so on. I squirted an invisible transmitting gel on the soles and rear of his shoes whilst cleaning his table in the restaurant. Tracked his location. Waiter bot, you see." He motioned to his clothes. "I was a temporary agency waiter there this evening."

Glancing at Delta, the senior officer asked "Is there a real Corps officer in there?"

"No. She's Corps property since her reprogramming. Pleasure bots are very skilled, hence the ability to plant the recording device on Beam Street, as most men can't resist their charms, as it were," Scrivvens said, coughing.

"Very good, Scrivvens." The senior officer shook his robot hand and left the room talking into a communicator.

As Scrivvens started to take off his robot casing, his holo screen beeped. Rubbing his face, feeling tired, he examined the message.

Scrivvens. Get in touch, new job coming up. It's complicated, but we are going to assist Brell. Officially this time. Commander Brune S'Tr-Hert.

The words "Brell" and "official" in the same message? Should be interesting, Scrivvens thought.

### Chapter 6 – The apartment

After a fitful sleep in the _Lulu_ , dreaming of her old prison cell, Brell journeyed through the Elytian capital to an upmarket district, part of a sprawling suburb containing media conglomerates. The beamcasting studios, whom Brell would be contracted to, owned many high-rise apartment buildings, which they loaned out to visiting celebrities, presenters, and guests.

"Greetings, Miss Sturlach. The Elytia Holo Beamcasting Company welcomes you. The apartment has been sanitised and is ready for your use. If you have any questions, please ask. I can access all main and studio streams remotely," the robotic assistant said in a flat female voice.

Its body, endowed with slight feminine curves, had the persona, Brell noted, of a plain-faced woman in her late thirties, with brown eyes and short straight hair. It was wearing business clothing and standing in a straight, well-balanced manner, unlike other clunky service industry models.

Hesitating at the front door, Brell followed the assistant, remembering when she had punched bots over the years. They were mostly a pain in the arse, getting in the way with their unnaturally positive manner. She watched the bot fluidly stepping ahead of her. Though slightly stiff in the neck, it was, otherwise, well poised.

"We have two en-suite bedrooms, a study, a kitchen, and a living room. All rooms are accessible from this corridor, madam."

Decorated in a refined classic style with heavy dark wooden-style furniture and a cosy settee, the living room imbued luxury. A floor to ceiling window lined one complete wall overlooking the Platinum District, the ultra-high end of the capital. Angular buildings, domes, spires, and high-rise apartments twinkled in the evening sunset. As Brell appreciated the view, out of the corner of her eye she noticed the bot admiring the cityscape.

They wandered into the main bedroom with its en-suite bathroom with privy and shower facilities.

"There's a 'floating' bed, top of the range beam shower, small fridge and large media screens," the bot said, smiling. "I can explain how to work all the equipment if you're not familiar with it."

Brell nodded, impressed. Facilities on board the _Lulu_ were good by freighter standards, but nothing replaced a proper bed and shower facilities.

Williams, the late _Convict Challenge_ show producer, had bought the apartment years ago as a retreat from the hurly burly of his studio production work. Williams not having any relatives entitled the studios to claim the property, having waited the statutory eighteen months after his death.

"Are these all of Williams' personal belongings from the studios?" Brell said, nearly tripping over the boxes on the study floor.

"Yes, madam. From his office in the studios and his temporary office on the planet where your _Convict Challenge_ took place." The bot stood with its hands clasped together.

She examined the assistant bot for a moment. It had plain universal ears, nose, and eye shapes, but a real-looking face – facial expressions, blinking eyelids, wrinkling its mouth at the corner, and twitching eyebrows. The quality of the holo "skin" was top-notch, and the clothes she wore were in fact a clever illusion.

"Were you Williams' assistant?"

"No, madam."

"What sort of robot are you? Not your job description, your type," Brell said suspiciously.

"I am a chameleon type of robotic assistant with a strong skeleton and body. My skin consists of ultra-sensitive holographic material. I am able to change my appearance, without wearing clothes, to whatever you require," the bot said, adding quickly, "I can also wear real clothes, madam."

"That will be all for now. You can recharge or whatever you do," Brell said dismissively, as she sat down in what she believed was Williams' chair.

"Yes, madam."

So, this is where Williams selected her as a challenger over two years ago and viewed her life history, including all those embarrassing court and prison news clips.

She couldn't resist a quick glance inside the boxes, which showed them full of artefacts, mainly Association trinkets and objects of interest. Perhaps the studio couldn't be bothered to sell them. Switching on a bank of holo screens, she adjusted their height and curved them a fraction for comfortable reading. Before checking her personal streams, she paused.

"Assistant?"

"Yes, madam?" the bot said, silently re-entering the room.

"Can you security scan all rooms and the stream conduit into this apartment, and then show me the results?"

"Yes, madam." Her voice sounded almost excited.

Probably one of those sad bots which yearns to be real, similar to the typically cheap ones used by Police Corps. Functional, but with little personality. Only very senior officers could utilise bespoke assistants of higher quality and capability. Some preferred expensive virtual assistants, which appeared as a holographic person.

Pausing her fingers over the keyboard, she reminded herself to be cautious. The studio, the Tinker, anyone might be interested in what she was viewing. Whilst the bot performed the checks, she got up and poked inside the boxes.

Holo paper lists, chips, media, a small statue of an ancient female in armour, together with uninteresting bits and pieces.

"Hah, what have we here?" she said aloud.

A half-bottle of her favourite Inhab-47 drink, whisky. Feeling the bottle's weight, she admired the yellow-brown liquid swirling inside, fascinated that it originated on an alien planet from a sector of space trillions of kilometres away. Inhab-47, a planet decades from Association contact, visited by Williams in preparation for creating the holo worlds used in _Convict Challenge_. Only on subsequent viewings of her show did she enjoy the background setting. At the time she ran for her life rather than admiring the scenery.

Inside another box was a packet of long brown weed smokes. Rotating one underneath her nostrils, she liked the smell but found it difficult to describe. It reminded her of an old-style intox drinking bar. She placed the bottle and smokes back in the box.

"Madam. All clear, here are the results." The assistant pressed a button on a small pop-up screen emanating from its forearm, sending the contents into Brell's console.

Looking over the results, she relaxed. However, she still utilised the audio umbrella in case the assistant was secretly recording everything. There were many cases of hackers taking over apartment bots to record and have fun with the occupants.

"Um, bot, can you get me a hot spicy drink."

"Of course, madam."

"Do you have a name?"

"I am bot serial number P1014609T."

"What did your last guest call you?"

"Shitface."

***

Locardum. Brell thought back to yesterday's meeting with the deputy. The first task was to spend the remainder of the day working through Williams' archive of interviews with Carac Montil. The studio allowed her to access all their stream archives, so where else to start but at the beginning.

Hearing Carac's voice brought back memories of one of the first times he attacked her. Without difficulty, she could feel his hands rubbing along her thigh, moving up to her breast.

She glanced at the box containing whisky. Rummaging around, she found some normal smokes, the thin type containing a relaxant. Once lit, she took a long drag whilst staring out of a window.

After reading more notes, she felt that something in Carac's early years might provide a location, a clue as to where he might instinctively hide the ore. For example, under the house he grew up in, or a place he visited as a teenager.

The main aspect jumping out at her was how often during interviews he mentioned that his sister had disowned him. He almost overstated it, something people can do when hiding the truth. His parents were part of an old farming community with strict moral values. Brell laughed. He would have been an overconfident, brash, smug child. His strict moral upbringing obviously made no impact on his corrupt and immoral behaviour in later life.

Why would his sister disown him? If children share a stern upbringing they often rely on each other to get through it. Also, Carac's niece, known as Katey, the sister's daughter, proved interesting. According to flight records, she had regularly travelled across the galaxy since leaving Space Corps. Perhaps there was more to this family.

Brune. Check out the sister, her daughter, and the family house again. Do not send a young detective. I believe his sister lied about disowning him. The niece has travelled frequently around the galaxy.

Once sent, she sat back, noticing the time. She fast-forwarded through the challenge, her challenge, examining all the things to do with Carac. Did he say anything aloud to the cameras, for example, a secret phrase known only to the Tinker or others?

Flicking through the streams whilst eating spiced legumes, she saw various scenes involving Carac, but nothing caught her eye. Aware of him being stunned by security bots during the third challenge, she listened to an audio clip of him mumbling when waking up in a holding cell. It was at the point between sleep and consciousness. She knew it well. She still occasionally woke up believing she was back inside her prison cell.

Difficult to discern initially, she ran the audio clip through a Police Corps programme.

" _Like home,"_ Carac said.

What was like home? Apart from another visit to his childhood home, other areas, such as transporter manifests and ore silo movements, had already been investigated by Corps detectives. Nothing, no links to ore, Locardum, transport, planets, or silos. He could have arranged for the Locardum to be moved secretly right up to his transfer from prison to the studios.

Bastard. Remembering his sneering laugh, she picked up the whisky bottle, examining the contents before replacing it back into its box.

Yawning, she turned off the screens. A hot shower was required, then sleep. It felt like a long day.

"Goodnight, madam," the assistant bot said, appearing silently from the corridor.

### Chapter 7 – The Tinker welcomes Smiler

"Anything of interest, Regg?" the Tinker said.

Sitting within the strongroom underneath his restaurant in Elytia Old Town, his small, dark blue eyes looked across a huge display of screens providing a chequerboard of live streams of his criminal empire. With a plump face, three chins, and ruddy cheeks, he wore an old dressing gown over his suit. His avuncular appearance belied the criminal and violent activities that had enabled him to build his domain. Blowing out smoke from a short pipe filled with his favourite weed, he popped a small cake into his mouth, then rubbed his stomach.

Regg, his personal assistant, stood, as usual, a discreet distance away. Wearing a grey suit, he constantly stared down at screens.

"Drugs factory, extra staff have been acquired, back to full output after the raid. We have two of our people working as full-time space dockers on Eplon. Unscanned cargo can now go through that point, sir."

"What's that one?" The Tinker pointed to a screen.

"A worker found trying to escape from our research compound on Nelpa Three, outer rim."

A group of drably dressed people were being herded into a circle around a male with a severely bruised and bloodied face. A security guard stepped forward, shot the male and then remonstrated with the workers watching.

"Quite right, shoot the bastard. Important work going on there," the Tinker said, flicking his glance to another screen. "Now, Regg, how is Mrs Tinker?"

"Family compound all secure, sir. On screen."

Letting out a burp, he watched Mrs Tinker standing in the family kitchen admonishing a small utility bot, which appeared to be shaking. Her chins wobbled as she shouted.

"Mrs Tinker is laying down the law again, Regg."

"I'm sure she is, sir."

Watching his son playing a multi-stringed musical instrument with friends in the back yard, he glanced over to another screen and smiled. His daughter, Missy, sat in the summerhouse talking to doll bots.

"Sir, you asked me to remind you about Katey from Mack's team and her loyalty to us." He displayed images of her with Mack's team.

"Yes, Regg. Thank you. Been thinking about the niece of Carac Montil. If she had already found the Locardum, she would have disappeared. We must presume Carac didn't tell Katey or his sister where it was."

"Agreed, sir. There would be signs of that. Perhaps she hopes to find information through one of your jobs, sir."

"Perhaps we should threaten to kill her along with her mother? Search their farm metre by metre?"

"Scans have shown no trace of any ore buried in their fields. If she gains knowledge of the ore, we could follow her to it, sir."

"I sometimes begrudge your common sense, Regg. What does your experience tell you?"

"Keep enemies close, lie low, and investigate. Stealth, basically."

"She still puzzles me. You know her personality, but she is an effective team member. We must keep a close eye on her. I'll think on it, Regg."

The Tinker's belly rumbled. Getting up, he plodded off silently to the privy as Regg tapped and swiped at screens, checking credit flows and upcoming operations to reinforce the empire.

"Sir, the team leaders' meeting starts in ten minutes. I've sent their production statistics to your side screen. Output has remained steady for the last six months."

"Bit of praise, followed by threats, then more praise, eh Regg?"

"Something like that, sir."

"And afterwards, Regg? You know I get stressed after these meetings."

"On screen, sir."

The Tinker's gaze roved over the body of a female standing in a bathroom. Wearing a plain white dress, the girl gazed at the floor whilst an older woman combed her hair.

"The sixteen-year-old daughter of a worker who didn't meet expectations. She's been briefed with the usual story about making a sacrifice to save her father, sir."

"A lovely little thing. The thought of her will make the meeting more bearable."

Standing up, the Tinker took off his robe to reveal a bright red suit, his power suit, making him stand out amongst his underlings. He cleared his throat in readiness.

"Okay, Regg, put all those reprobates on screen."

Twelve faces appeared, from locations across the galaxy. The Tinker's right-hand men and women, none of whom he trusted.

"Right, let's get to it. Which one of you has let me down?" he said, his voice raised.

***

A while later, after a successful meeting and a stress relief session, a satisfied Tinker padded across the strongroom and hefted himself back onto his couch.

"Much else tonight, Regg? I may go home soon. Can you put the skiff on standby?"

"Certainly, sir. Thought you may be interested in Smiler. He's about to make a collection."

"Let's have a look."

Regg enlarged a screen and adjusted the volume. "I have accessed the shop's cameras, sir. High definition." He split the screen with four camera angles.

A male in his fifties, of medium height and with a round face, entered a shop-mart situated in a poor area of town. With sparse hair and a bald patch, Smiler wore a smart brown suit, complete with tie and pocket handkerchief. His deep-set eyes glanced around like a forest predator, calculating, ready to pounce. It was his lips which earned him the nickname. Being slightly curved at the edges, it gave him an appearance of always smiling. However, opinion on what lay behind the smile differed.

His muscleman, Bim, turned off the laser security beam, shooed out customers, and pressed the door close button. He stood still, waiting for instructions.

"Good evening, I'm here to collect your insurance payment," Smiler said as he approached the payment tills.

"No afford today," the store owner said, his hands laid flat on the counter.

Smiler examined the shop. Shelves and boxes overflowed with goods, food packets, soft drugs, smoke tubes, and intox.

"No problems with local gangs, I believe, since our agreement?"

"No problem."

"Well the insurance system works."

"Not enough credit." The male rubbed a hand across his brow.

Smiler placed a hand over his shoulder, as he checked for any concealed weapons under the counter. "Now, listen. You and I both know that you will be paying up. We can do our little thing here, argue, whatever you want. But I will be leaving here with the credits in my pocket."

"Sir, not good month. Can't pay full figure." He pressed a screen showing quick credits available as change for customers. In this area, local shoppers used old holo or paper-style credits, typical of people living on a day-to-day budget.

"Six hundred short. Not good, my friend," Smiler said, smoothing hair strands over his bald patch. "My friend Bim here, he likes to damage things."

Bim picked up a box of expensive bottled intox.

"Hold on, Bim."

"Boss," Bim said, putting the box back down, used to playing his part in Smiler's little game.

"We don't need to resort to violence." He patted the man on the shoulders.

"No, sir," the storeowner stuttered, his hands rubbing together.

"I'll tell you what. I got a little something here which will change your mind. No violence, no damage. What do you say?"

The man wrinkled his face and stared at Smiler, uncertain of his next move.

"Here." Smiler pulled out a cube and generated a holo screen.

As he activated the cube, the noise of a door opening followed by a gasp made him turn towards the interruption. "It's okay, come and join us, come on." He motioned with his hand.

A teenage girl appeared. She stood next to her father, the storeowner, who put an arm around her waist.

"It's okay, we aren't going to harm you. In fact you're in time for a little show." Smiler's eyes lingered on the girl.

She pulled herself tighter towards her father, who regarded Smiler. The fear etched in his eyes suggested he would take a beating if it meant his daughter was left alone.

"I took this earlier today."

A sunlit street full of road traffic, hovers, delivery vehicles, and pedestrians appeared on Smiler's screen. An everyday road scene. Into view came an elderly man, judging by the slow unbalanced way he walked. He tottered across the road, narrowly missing a scooter, the rider of which shouted an obscenity at him. As he entered a doorway, the scene cut to the male slowly walking upstairs inside the building and entering a low-lit corridor.

On recognising the man, the storeowner looked from the screen to Smiler and back again.

He swallowed. "I find credit," he said, glancing at his daughter. "You not watch, go back inside."

"No, she stays," Smiler said, his voice smooth and commanding.

The elderly male stood outside a door answered by someone dressed in a pink shirt and trousers. With bushy multicoloured hair, the person, could have been male, female, or both.

"I get credit. No more. Please, sir. No more." He buried his daughter's head in his chest.

Smiler grinned.

Now in the bedroom, the person in pink helped the male to take off his shirt and started to unbuckle his trousers.

Smiler stopped the images. "Well?"

"I go in back of shop, get credit."

"Leave her here."

The storeowner trotted off.

"Quite a man, your grandfather. If you care to watch the rest of it, he got his credits' worth. He's still got it, you know." Smiler leant in towards the girl. "Stuck working in this shithole family business, pretty face, nice body. You could earn good credits." He ran the side of a finger along her cheek until she jerked her head back.

Returning, the storeowner opened the register and added its contents to the wad of notes in his hand.

"Here. Forgot, extra in back."

Pocketing the credits, Smiler brushed his jacket. "All fully insured. I'll keep the further adventures of your father safe, until next month."

Stroking the girl's hair, Smiler said, "Lovely." He stared directly at the storeowner. "Lovely," he said again. "Come on, Bim."

"Boss," Bim said, opening the door.

The storeowner and his daughter remained clutching each other.

"Regg, you have to hand it to Smiler. Others would have gone in, smashed the place, roughed up the owner, and got the credits. Smiler does it without laying a finger on them."

"Effective tactics and blackmail, sir. Does his homework."

"Time to bring him back into the fold? Served his time for his little faux pas, do you think?"

"Skilled man in the right place, with his own people. Have to keep tabs on him though, sir," Regg said.

"Definitely. I don't like him, don't trust him, but he may prove useful." The Tinker refilled his pipe.

### Chapter 8 – Preparations

Xax plodded slowly along the corridor, the sounds of his boots echoing off the walls. At two metres tall with a big round head and a wide body, he was imposing enough. However, wearing black combat clothing and gripping a bulky laser pistol added to his intimidation. He stopped a moment to concentrate on listening through his hearing implant, making out the pitter-patter of footsteps ahead, somewhere to the left. Grinning, he walked on, his shoulder-length hair bouncing in time with his strides.

Shop doorways, closed on each side, made him turn around to check whether his prey had given him the slip. Pausing, he listened again but could detect no movement. There was a strong chance someone was trying to hide themselves.

P-zap, p-zap.

Two distant laser blasts sounded from a nearby corridor to his right, followed by shouting and three more blasts. As things quietened down, Xax reasoned that his partner had found another escapee. He gripped his laser, he didn't want to return without making a hit.

Scraping noises brought him back to his task. Someone nearby was unsettled at the sound of laser fire.

Approaching an entrance, Xax gently pushed the door open using the muzzle of his pistol and then glanced inside. It was a rectangular room with small tables and chairs set out cafeteria-style, with an exit door situated at the other end.

He tilted his head to concentrate on the sounds inside the room, a hand slapping on the floor, a scuffle, and a chair leg scraping.

P-zap.

Firing at the far wall, he waited for a response.

A male poked his head up from behind a table. At the sight of Xax grinning back at him, he scrambled to his knees, hands pushing against chairs as he headed towards the exit. Xax walked inside, his attention fixed on the male.

Bringing up his pistol, he fired a single shot, striking the male in the centre of his back, propelling him flat on his face, arms outstretched.

"Okay, thank you, luvvies, stop there," a loud voice announced. "A perfect rehearsal and practice for the real show."

A production assistant appeared out of a side door to tend to the moaning male.

Holstering his pistol, Xax walked back into the main corridor to find his colleague, Sereen. From Colony 06, she had light brown skin, short black curly hair and a swarthy athletic body. On her right arm she had a small tattoo, the emblem of an elite Space Corps unit.

"You got one then?" she said, hands on hips.

"You?" Xax said.

"Two. They seemed to think it would be best to stay together." She rolled her eyes.

"The challengers will put up a better fight," Xax said, his mouth open, revealing a tight row of whitened teeth.

A voice announced, "Looking good. Everyone up here is happy. The next time it's for real. Okay, set design and holo creators, you may now finish creating the arena and sets ready for the first challenge."

Another assistant appeared, holding a holo board full of instructions. "Well done. Producer Valvin asks if you could take your time a bit, frown, look uncertain or fierce. It makes it more exciting for our audience. Otherwise, good job." The assistant smiled and walked off.

Xax held out his hand to allow Sereen to curl her fingertips around his in a form of greeting.

"More frowning, okay," Sereen said sarcastically.

Xax wrinkled his brow, uncertain what she meant.

***

Within the vast complex of the Elytia Holo Beamcasting Company studios, Brell watched Xax and Sereen's performance from the show producer's meeting room. Using plain unfinished backdrops within a two-storey arena, she could sense this version of the show, unlike hers, was tighter and less creative.

Surrounded by show presenters and staff, who were also keenly watching the rehearsals, she kept her thoughts and body language to herself.

She recognised some people present. Theo, the main presenter who fronted many beam shows, was a favourite of the older viewers. His mature outlook and the twinkle in his eye made him a consummate professional, with a relaxed style. Co-presenter, Lexuri de Camilloire was unknown to Brell. A quick browse of a celeb gossip stream would reveal that Lexi started her career as a journalist before becoming a youth show presenter. In her late twenties, she was renowned for regularly changing her hairstyle and wearing short skirts. Recently she had been romantically linked with a famous sports star.

Thankfully, Brell realised, the studio required her presence during the three live challenge events to perform some basic interviews, give small pieces on camera, and be generally available. Considering how much they were paying her, she didn't mind at all.

She snapped back into the present as Valvin, the producer, glided into the room. Thin in stature, but with a healthy glow, he wore black clothing, in line with current celebrity fashion trends.

"What do you think of our exterminators?"

"Very good. They'll make excellent viewing, VV," his assistant said.

"Thought so. Now to business. As you know, this version of the challenge is crash and bash, more challengers, more deaths. We have a nice range of prisoners, who the audience will either love or hate," he said, pointing to a screen off to one side with images of the chosen prisoners.

"We've retained some elements of Inhab-47, for backdrop effect, to hook in our previous audiences. This time, it's all about a race to the death." He paused before wiping a hand across his face. "Whilst your show made a good profit, Brell, it was expensive to set up. Studio bosses want a leaner, meaner event, hence it being hosted here on Elytia." Valvin lowered his forehead towards Brell.

"I understand. Been two years, time for a change," Brell said. What did she care? She pulled at her waistband; she knew her trousers were too tight, but she couldn't start undoing them in the middle of the meeting.

"Who better to interview the female challengers in their cells and to give expert opinion on the others than you," Valvin said.

He looked around the presenters. "We've covered everything else in our pre-meets and streams. You have your schedules and scripts. Send clips to my assistant along with any questions."

"VV, may I ask a question?" Lexi said.

"Yes, darling."

"Who do I send my wardrobe requirements to?"

"Don't worry, darling, the audience and the whole Association are looking forward to your dresses. My assistant will sort you out."

"Thanks VV," Lexi said, smiling at everyone. Her gaze stopped at Brell. "Do you have any wardrobe requirements?"

Bending her head down, Brell sniffed her jacket lapel. She was wearing the same clothes as yesterday at the Police Corps HQ meeting. All she had done that morning was to squirt a perfumed fabric spray over the jacket and trousers. With minimal make-up and a quick hair comb, perhaps she underestimated the preening studio people.

"No, I'm fine – business suits, that sort of thing," Brell said, screwing her hands up in an attempt to hide her fingernails.

"Well it suits your age I suppose," Lexi said.

Brell smiled, making no reply. Keep it steady, she told herself. Don't make an idiot of yourself. She relaxed her shoulders and took a breath – it's all about the credits.

"VV, can I see you later to go over the script?" a male said, breaking a pregnant pause. It was the only thing he'd said all morning. Chain-smoking, and with a face that only his mother could love, his rich commentator's voice was his gift.

"Certainly, I'm free later this afternoon. Okay everyone, the main challenge will be run every two weeks on primetime. This allows time for challengers to recover, provide interviews and for extra adverts to be shown. During the weeks in-between, we're running a low-key fun show as a build-up to the main event. You're welcome to attend those."

He received a roomful of smiles, which said, "As long as the credits are right, otherwise forget it".

"Any questions to my assistant, otherwise keep to your schedules. We kick off soon with the live beamcast of the challengers leaving prison. A week later I'll see you all at the first challenge pre-show party. We have to think of a better name for it," he said, turning to his personal assistant, who nodded back. "Anyhow, thank you all. Must be off, lots to do." With that, he breezed out through the door.

"Well," Lexi said, "see you all soon." Standing up, she smoothed her skirt with both hands before bending over to pick up a valise and leaving.

Brell felt a light touch on her arm.

"She's harmless," Theo said, smiling, "but she is a good presenter."

"Fair enough, I haven't seen her before. But I tell you, her underwear is a bit tight up her backside," Brell said, from the corner of her mouth. "Let's hope the wardrobe department can sort that out."

### Chapter 9 – Plundering Pirates

Upon returning to the apartment, Brell stood in the living room, kicked off her shoes and reached under her blouse. Within moments she had pulled her bra off and twanged it onto the settee.

The bot watched Brell's bra fly through the air.

"That's better. Bot, I need to organise things as I'm going away tomorrow."

"Yes, madam. How can I help?"

"My freighter, the _Lulu_ ," Brell said whilst trying to undo the top fastener of her trousers, "is due for servicing by Sprocket's Service Garage. I docked it in their yard a few days ago. Are you able to monitor its progress? Realistically, I'm happy for it to be completed in a couple of weeks. Parking charges are expensive on Elytia, so leaving it with them saves a lot of credits."

"What class of craft is it? So I can oversee the correct service, madam."

"It's a class four cargo freighter. Licensed for most types of cargo except livestock. Due its two-year structural and engine overhaul."

"Leave it with me. Anything else, madam?"

"I want to order some boxing punchbags and associated holo consoles ... Frigging thing," Brell said, still having difficulty with her trouser fastening.

"If you show me the exact model I can order it for immediate delivery," the bot said, staring at Brell's trousers.

"You're going to give me preprogrammed dress tips, I suppose."

"No, madam, not unless you wish me to."

Finally loosening her trousers, Brell said, "Okay then, assistant bot, what do you recommend I wear?" Used to buying fuel and arranging dockside services, comfortable practical clothing was her preferred choice. However, she knew when agreeing to work on the challenge she would require a full makeover. It was going to be a hell of a transformation, she thought, as she examined her fingernails again.

"I can run a 3D holo programme to take your measurements, then select some clothes. They will be delivered in an hour. May I ask what you are doing over the next few days?"

Brell scratched the back of her head. "Tomorrow I'm travelling for two days to Crin, visiting prisoners. When I return I'll be recording pieces to camera here in the living room."

"Comfortable loose clothing to wear during the journey. For prison, brown trousers, boots, striped working-style shirt, sleeves rolled up, no jewellery. A freed prisoner returning, but not rubbing people's noses in it. For filming, dark green blouson shirt open at the neck with a light silver necklace. Black trousers with black boots. Relaxed, professional, a winner who has something to say."

"Sounds good."

"I can show you, madam."

The bot displayed different clothing combinations on its body.

"Well, I never would have picked those. Let's do it."

"Please stand in your underpants, madam."

"You sound like a doctor. You're not recording this, are you?"

"No, madam. For an accurate scan, the less clothes the better."

Hesitating, Brell shrugged her shoulders before taking off her jacket, blouse, and trousers, aware of the bot's stare. Normally, bots wouldn't blink even if she did cartwheels wearing a sparkly suit.

"Admiring the view?"

"I was considering your body shape and skin colour for the scan, madam."

"Aren't you supposed to say, 'Wow, madam, you're fit, you look after yourself'? You know, be nice about everything and wait until the customer asks for an opinion?"

"Perhaps. Which opinion would you like, madam?"

Brell laughed. This bot was a bit different, which made a change.

The scan complete, Brell said, "Make the order. Plus any other smart and casual clothes you think I need. I'll leave it with you. Clothes aren't my thing."

"Yes, madam. I will also order bras that fit you and match your underwear," the bot said, a wry smile on its face.

"Okay, but nothing frilly," Brell said as she left the room, returning a short time later wearing a bathrobe.

"Have you always been here?" she said, tying a knot in the waist cord.

"No, madam. I previously worked in a large research facility."

"Doing what?"

"I was made with an agile body and dextrous hands and feet, so when my creator died, I drove vehicles around the site, worked in hospitality, medical, psych, as well as sweeping floors, madam."

"An orphaned bot of all trades. How did you end up here?"

"Recession. The laboratory ran out of credits, sold its assets, including all bots. We were auctioned off to the building company which built these apartments, madam."

"Stuck in this apartment then?"

"Yes, madam," the bot said, lowering its voice.

***

After a workout, a shower, and a light evening meal, Brell sent some zap messages to Gorst telling him to be careful, but not mentioning anything else.

Happy with the clothes and boxing equipment, delivered earlier, she relaxed in the living room.

"Bot."

"Yes, madam."

"Switch on the media console."

The bot passed a hand over the tabletop.

"Wow, I've never seen so many channels. Full Sensurround as well."

"There is a full menu of options. Drama, light entertainment, sports and all types of adult entertainment."

"All types, eh?"

"Yes, madam. I have watched every one, to enable me to make recommendations to guests."

"Every one? Shows good dedication to duty."

"There is also some technical equipment for intimate social encounters, madam," the bot said in a serious tone. "I can show you how it works."

Brell put a hand up. "Thanks. Think I'll just watch a drama or something. Anything to recommend?"

" _Plundering Pirates_ is my favourite. An action drama in which a convicted space pirate has to keep out of trouble and do good deeds in order to receive a pardon. It features Captain Roger, a craggy no-nonsense man with a soft side. It is very popular."

"Does he get the girl and always succeed?"

"Oh yes. There's action, kissing, romance, and plenty of happy endings. Deezal Pompadour, who plays Captain Roger, is very dishy," the bot said, her voice talking faster than normal.

"Think I'll give it a miss tonight."

Randomly selecting another action drama, Brell sat back as the Sensurround kicked in, enclosing her in a wrap-around screen with a cocoon of sound.

An hour later, she stopped the programme halfway through, feeling hungry and thirsty. She wandered out to the auto chef, fidgeting. She could do with an intox beer to take the edge of everything. Would one do any harm?

"Hello," she called out.

"Yes, madam?"

"I want a drink of intox, but it gets me into trouble. I've tried various medications and treatments, but something nags at me to drink every now and again. You'll know it anyway from my challenge. There was nothing left of me that hasn't been discussed or exposed."

"I am aware of your background, madam. May I say that I admire your strength in overcoming your difficulties."

"Oh come on. How could you know? You're made of plastic, metal, and fancy wiring," Brell leaned back against the kitchen counter.

"My brain and personality were programmed by a real woman, madam."

"They say that to all the bots on inception. Don't tell me, you have images of your childhood in an album somewhere? Anyway, bots just tell the customer what they want to hear."

"True. I choose to react in a professional manner, so as not to be sent to the scrapyard, madam."

"Oh, a clever bot with programming. Well, react then, without fear of being broken up." Brell stared at the bot, daring her to say something.

"Madam, you were a professional, confident Police Corps officer, attaining senior rank. However, you coped by taking the illegal psychotic drug Deep Yellow or getting drunk. This enabled you to escape from the stresses and strains of life but led to your conviction for murder. You still have weak moments when you struggle with addictions and cravings. Do you want to lose your pilot's licence, become useless, hopeless again? What would your partner think?"

"Wow, not bad," Brell said, nodding.

"You asked for the truth, madam," the bot said, making eye contact with Brell.

"What do you suggest then?"

"Perhaps a beer substitute ... flavour without the intox elements, madam."

Getting advice from a robot, Brell thought, but it talked sense. She crossed her arms as if in disagreement.

"Beer, no intox, full flavour."

The auto chef chugged away, producing a glass of foamy beer with a satisfying flavour. Glancing at the readout, she read it was a non-intox version of a "Whit Beer", whatever that was.

"Happy?" She glared at the bot whilst walking into the study to grab one of Williams' Inhab-47 smokes.

Puffing on the rolled leaf whilst watching the drama, Brell savoured its flavour, an ancient woody taste on the tongue. Something within the alien weed proved very satisfying.

"Hello?" Brell called out. "I'm off to bed. My itinerary is on my planner, which you should be able to access."

"Yes, madam. Is there anything else I can do for you whilst you are away?"

"Just keep an eye on _Lulu_. Alert me if anyone calls at the apartment door."

"Yes, madam."

Brell studied the bot. "Can I trust you?"

Walking over to the window without speaking, the bot stared at the cityscape. "Yes, madam." The bot made eye contact with Brell.

"Is everything ready for the morning?" Brell said, standing up.

"Yes, madam. I will wake you with breakfast at zero four thirty. Transport to the space port will arrive at zero five thirty. Everything is packed and I have laid out your travelling clothes."

"No wild parties or raiding the fridge whilst I'm gone. I know what you bots can get up to."

"Yes, madam."

"You have permission to stare out of the window as long as you like, and during your time off, you can use the full Sensurround to watch your favourite stream shows."

"Yes, madam. Thank you."

"Shall I look out for some real space pirates for you?"

"Yes please, madam." The bot smiled and clutched its hands together.

Brell shook her head.

### Chapter 10 – Katey

The space transporter rental facility lay next to a main thoroughfare two kilometres from a local space port. An early morning sun shone bleakly through low-hanging grey clouds basking the dormant land and rows of aircraft in a soft glow.

Wearing standard manual workers' clothing, Katey walked behind three fellow team members, who in turn followed a short male in a pilot's jumpsuit. In her early twenties, ten years younger than the others, her short white hair shimmered in the dull light. Hitching up her backpack up a fraction, she cast her eyes over the rows of transporters, skiffs, zoomers and mini freighters.

" _The Flower_. Here's our freighter," the pilot said, entering a security code.

Within moments a ramp lowered.

"Let's get to it," Mack said, his voice a low growl. His height, girth, and scarred face lent authority to his position as team leader.

Katey dumped her backpack on a seat in the corner of the crew area.

"This is our ride for the next two hours – make yourselves comfortable," Mack said. "I'm just going to see the pilot. Techie, scan the ship and get the hold ready for our equipment pickup."

"Sure thing, Mack," Techie said, taking out a handheld device and disappearing into the freight bay.

Mote plonked his swarthy frame into a chair and, realising it swivelled, proceeded to make it squeak as annoyingly as possible. Not wanting to start a conversation, Katey turned her back to check on nothing in particular in her backpack. She knew he would be ogling her. She glanced back at him, and she saw his attention switch to the side as he continued swinging the chair with a grin on his face.

Katey had given up predicting any of the Tinker's jobs. He liked to send good luck messages and watch their live camera feeds as they killed or threatened wayward members of his crime organisation. It paid well, and despite having to rebuff male attention, she enjoyed working with the others. It got her away from her mother as well. She hoped this raid would be another Locardum hunt, the ore her uncle Carac Montil had hidden.

The ore had been intended to fund the family farm and her inheritance, once she found a suitable husband – well, one her mother approved of.

After a short flight they landed in a secure compound and loaded various sized crates into the cargo hold.

Once airborne, Mack gave a tactics briefing. As soon as he mentioned they were raiding a large silo area for signs of Locardum, Katey grabbed the arm of the chair tightly. That the location was a low-security ore silo was, in her mind, a perfect place. Middle of the road, not drawing attention to itself on a bland planet, exactly what her uncle would have considered. When the Tinker's rotund face and wobbling chins appeared on a holo screen to reiterate the value of Locardum, Katey forced herself to appear calm.

After landing, she took off her outer jacket, revealing a laserproof shirt, the fabric of which stretched over her toned arms and torso as she walked over to the privy.

***

Mote pulled at Mack's arm. "Can we fragging trust her, Mack?" he said quietly.

"She's fine, she's been with us for over two years now. Proved herself, you know that. Doesn't shrink from killing."

"She has the occasional drink with us socially, disappears, then turns up when we do a job. Bit of a cold fish."

"She's her own person, family commitments, looks after her elderly mother. Do I ask you what you do in off time? We've gone through this before. Leave it," Mack said finally.

***

Katey walked back in adjusting her trouser belt, then reached for her long-sleeved armoured vest before finishing with the worker's jacket. She then went about securing various weapons and devices around her body and clothing.

"Techie, ready?" Mack said.

"Yes, I've sent up the orb," Techie said, enveloped by a wide semicircle of screens. "Just getting to the right height."

The team huddled beside Techie as he manoeuvred a large communication orb into its hovering position, eight hundred metres above the silo. Displaying the whole facility from the camera underneath, Techie overlaid the positions of staff and security bots.

"Ready to overload the security bots. Can't get to the drones."

"Go," Mack said.

Techie activated a pulse beacon from the orb and the red dots marking the security bots positions turned to yellow. "Sec bots are static. Take out the fence and follow the trail there. Sniffers and rifle bots will be ready after you're inside."

"Can you get a sports game on there, or perhaps something a little bit more exciting?" Mote said, patting Techie on the shoulder.

As the others laughed loudly, mainly to let off pre-raid nerves, Techie stuck a finger in the air.

"Okay, are we all good to go? Tinker cams on, weapons and comms all ready and working?" Mack said, waiting for nods from Mote and Katey. "Techie, keep us updated. Let's get our bikes," Mack said, walking towards the hold.

Minutes later, they hovered on their powerful beam wave bikes, surveying the silo facility. The barren grassland had a few random piles of ore dotted over its surface, the direct opposite of the highly organised silos lying underground. In the centre were the main offices, equipment sheds and accommodation blocks, as well as small groupings of tall circular metal silos above ground.

To one side of the complex a freighter prepared for landing as ground staff congregated a safe distance from its landing pad. Huge carts trundled along in a smooth line towards the location.

Mack peered through his goggles for a second time. "Good, looks like a normal day," he said, pursing his lips.

Once through the large hole created in the beam fence, Katey adjusted her body weight a fraction to find a more balanced position and accelerated behind Mack and Mote. When Mack's briefing had mentioned that a female member of staff had inside information, her pulse had quickened, especially when she was tasked with speaking to her. Mack and Mote would be interrogating central systems in another part of the building. Techie, despite his skills, couldn't access manifests and histories of ore deposits remotely.

" _Techie, we're clear of the fence – deploy sniffers and sentries_."

" _On way, Mack_ ," Techie said.

Two button presses later, a door hatch set in a large container in the freighter's hold opened. A thousand small self-powered discs hovered out to make their journey on Techie's preprogrammed path through the fence and to their designated zones above and below ground to "sniff" out any traces of Locardum. Once the sniffers were on their way, six sentry bots popped up and wheeled themselves into position to give extra firepower to assist the team's return journey to the fence.

As the tall silos and crew areas came into view, Katey, on Mack's command, peeled off to the right towards the storeroom access point. Activating her goggles, she confirmed the best route to the doorway, as outlined on her map in bright green.

A pall of dust enveloped her from the light winds whipping across the grassland. No bother, her dust-covered clothing and face would help her blend in. Passing nearby to some workers, she hoped she gave the appearance of an outfield maintenance engineer checking fences and ground equipment.

" _Sniffers are in place,"_ Techie said, his voice almost startling Katey after the static silence of the last few minutes.

" _Nearing central complex,"_ Mack said.

"Nearing store entrance," Katey said.

" _Shit. Got resistance. Drones are up, getting light weapons fire from the workers,"_ Mack said, his voice calm. _"Techie, we'll be fighting our way back. Katey, stay alert."_

"Okay," Katey said, hearing zaps in the background of Mack's communication.

Katey saw, off to one side, some staff change behaviour. Initially appearing confused, they ran to a crew building. Twisting the grip on her bike, she accelerated towards the entranceway. Distant sirens sounded and holo security signs appeared two metres above the ground.

" _Full security alert in place,"_ Techie said, stating the obvious.

Parking her bike, she slipped into a small foyer beyond which lay the stairs down to the storeroom. Three static security robots dressed in uniforms stood with laser pistols in a firing stance facing Katey just inside the doors. Due to their remote stunning by Techie only their eyes moved, tracking her movements. Taking no chances she pulled out a small laser pistol and zapped each one in the legs.

"I'm in. Going down to the storeroom," she said.

" _In the control room,"_ Mack said.

She knew the workers were no match for Mote's fighting and survival skills. Katey didn't take to his demeanour much, but she acknowledged his worthiness. He'd be covering Mack whilst he plugged a device directly into the silo's mainframe to copy ore deposit schedules.

The storeroom entrance consisted of a wide counter in front of long lines of shelving, filled with boxes, junk, and machine parts. Assistant bots, instead of handing over stock, uniforms, and equipment, stood still, arms by their side.

She jumped over the counter and proceeded to walk between two high shelving cabinets, the quietness inside at odds with the chattering comms. Mack and Mote were starting to withdraw, whilst Techie outlined the current positioning of staff.

" _Under heavy fire, falling back,"_ Mack shouted.

" _Got them, lots of fraggers coming out of the woodwork,"_ Mote said through clenched teeth, with sounds of zapping in the background.

As if not listening to the downturn in events, Techie's voice interjected, _"Hey guys, positive sniff – found a Locardum trace. Um, silo dump position one niner eight."_

" _Katey, no risks. We can always return,"_ Mack said, clearly running as he spoke.

"Okay," Katey replied.

Reaching the end of a long row, she pushed a hand inside her jacket and squeezed a small spongy pad, instantly silencing the comms and interfering with Tinker's live cam on her chest. The line of storage cabinets ended, resulting in a square shaped open office area at the end of the room. A lone woman sat at a desk with six holo screens positioned in front of her. Wearing plain office clothing, the woman, aged about sixty, had long straggly hair, a tired but smiling face and a horse tattoo running from her neck to below her right ear. From Mack's briefing, this provided positive identification.

"Hello, are you the millionaire?" the woman said, her voice clear but weary.

"Yes, credits makes the world go round," Katey said, recounting her instructions.

"Correct reply. Thank goodness. I've been working here for twenty years getting screwed over for pay and pension." She looked Katey up and down and then went back to a screen with a horse running around a field. "A few secretive dumps have been deposited in the last couple of years, which is why I sought out the Tinker. I just work here in the storeroom, but people and systems" – she patted her desk – "still talk."

"Position one nine eight. Look it up. Last five years," Katey said whilst peering around.

"Aha, a hit. Great. Old Tinker will pay me the credits now. Horses, here I come. Won't take a sec to get into the supervisor's datasheet." She briefly interrogated the systems. "One nine eight, here we are. Twelve reported drops and pickups in the last five years to that silo position."

Katey produced a small black disc. "Here, put the info on this."

Placing the disc near the holo screen, the woman entered a command.

"There you go, honey. All done my end. Please get the credits sent over."

"One moment. Check your database again."

After some furious hand movements, the woman said, "It's corrupted, meaningless data. Oh, blinky blanky, the boss isn't going to be happy."

"The Tinker likes to cover his tracks from Police Corps or other snoopers. Now for your credits." Katey placed a finger to her ear and said," Tinker? You can pay her now." Katey pointed to a screen. "Are those your horses?"

"Yes, special breed, strong and tough."

She didn't finish her sentence, as Katey shot her through the back of the head. Instant death. At least she was looking at something she loved. Checking her disc was secure, she undid her jacket, took out her other weapons and placed them in her front pockets or slung them over her shoulder. Finally, she turned the comms and camera back on.

Techie communicated information regarding the placement of the sentry guards.

"Test message, test message. Anyone? Think they have a signal blocker in the basement. All gone quiet."

" _Katey? Been calling you. You okay? Good to have you back. Got you on the map. Mack and Mote are meeting more resistance. Get out and back to the fence."_ Techie's voice had raised a notch.

"Leaving the office now," she said.

" _Katey, couldn't get to you. Drawing security drones away from your position. Get out. Make a wide sweep back to the fence,"_ Mack said, his voice drowned out by laser fire.

"Got it," Katey said, fitting an assault rifle together as she started to run back to the stairs. At the sound of faint footsteps, she backed against a wall to wait. A shaking pistol barrel appeared first, attached to a trembling hand.

After a quick zap, she stepped past a worker trying to make sense of his missing fingers. As his cries of pain kicked in, she reached the top of the stairs. Meeting no other resistance, she made a quick holo scan of her surroundings via her goggles and faint images showed on the other side of the door. Workers were congregated outside.

" _Katey, can see you moving. Waiting committee outside,"_ Techie said.

Ignoring the still static security bots, she threw two sticky grenades onto the wall above the door and ran back down the stairs, hands over her ears. It reminded her of a simulation from one of her Space Corps training exams.

Boom, boom.

Holding her breath, she ran up through plumes of dust, firing whilst squeezing past broken plasconcrete blocks and over writhing bodies, to stumble out into the muted sunshine. A drone buzzed above her as she spat out bits of dust upon seeing her bike lying in bits. Seeing a worker's sled within running distance, she made a dash towards it. As she jumped into the driver's seat, laser bolts flashed past her, together with hard bullets kicking up dust.

Fortunately, it was a basic "easy drive" sled. Hitting the large red start button, she fixed her goggles more firmly whilst waiting to rise off the ground. Immediately, she throttled forward, heading sideways from the buildings towards a group of tall above-ground silos from which she could make a long turn to safety.

"Mack, out of the building, on a worker's sled, on the way to the fence," she said loudly.

" _Good work, Katey. Mack and Mote have split up, both pursued by drones. They can't get back to you at the moment,"_ Techie said.

Snatching a backwards glance, she noticed a wheeled craft was on her tail with two drones buzzing overhead. Reaching maximum speed, she realised her sled was a type used by maintenance crews to pootle around in. Off-target laser or hard bullet shells zipped past her. The drones seemed to hang back – perhaps the tall silos contained dangerous chemicals or corrosives.

_P-zap_.

Shots near the rear side of the sled made Katey lurch the vehicle towards the silos. Steering hard, and with gritted teeth, she pulled the steering wheel back, relieved when the sled screeched along the side of the metallic container.

_P-zap_.

Feeling a rush of intense heat narrowly missing her neck, she hunched her shoulders down to minimise the target whilst concentrating her efforts to fight the damaged sled's wishes to veer right.

Laser bolts slammed into her shoulder armour like a punch. With difficulty, she managed to narrowly avoid hitting another silo and, gazing ahead, she saw open grassland.

Now in open land, the drones accelerated forward, their shots pitting the ground beside her. Katey knew the sled couldn't outrun the pursuers, and she swallowed upon seeing a wheeled craft appear from one side, its two occupants covered in dust.

Fixing her attention on the land ahead, she reached down to her belt, uncoupled a grenade, pressed the activator, and tossed it backwards. Bouncing along the rough surface, the pursuing crew accelerated, unaware of the danger coming their way.

A muffled explosion boomed under the craft's engine, lifting the front wheels off the ground and then crashing back down, breaking an axle. Unable to hold on, the two occupants ploughed head first over the bonnet onto the ground.

Katey sped forward.

P-zap.

Laser bolts fizzed against the sides of her sled and smoke began billowing from the engine compartment. Decelerating, she took her hands off the wheel, took aim, and fired four bursts, her rifle's self-aiming facility compensating for the juddering vehicle. Receiving two direct hits, one drone buzzed away on another trajectory. Almost in an acknowledgement of the strike, the last pursuing drone opened up with all weapons.

Katey felt the thump of laser bolts on her body armour, its energy dissipated into a thin crack created by a previous shot. Her shoulder blade burned, an electrical pain growing inside. She spat and coughed to clear her mouth. As the engine of the sled whined and sputtered, she fought the juddering steering wheel, her strength diminishing.

She focussed ahead, but the perimeter fence still seemed a long distance away. Clearly, from the activity taking place ahead of her, Techie's sentry bots were opening fire on drones buzzing her escape route. She hoped Mack and Mote had made it back safely.

More shots thudded in.

"Ahh!" Katey said aloud, gasping, instinctively reacting to a searing pain in her left thigh.

Her grip on the sled loosened and it veered off in its own direction, her thigh and shoulder pain draining her energy. Firing at the drone wasn't an option unless she stopped the sled to use both hands, which would make her a sitting target. Retaining her grip on the steering wheel, she used her body weight to bring it back on course.

Winding up its weapons, the drone steadied itself.

P-zap.

As the rear end of Katey's sled crumpled, she felt laser bolts impacting on her lower body armour, jolting her spine. Out of control, with all power lost, the sled bucked as Katey pushed herself off, sliding into the dirt.

P-zap.

Squeezing her eyes, she tensed, waiting for the drone to confirm its target.

Thump.

Through half-open eyes, Katey saw the drone crash, spluttering into a tangled mess. With dust whipping into her face, she strained her hearing but couldn't hear anymore drone engines.

"Mack?" Katey said, as confidently as possible.

" _Mote's shot, actually."_

" _Thanks, Mote,"_ she said.

Aware that the sled's plasma engine may implode, she crawled, kneeled, and got to her feet. Taking the weight on her good leg, she hopped and walked as fast she could in the direction of the fence, where air fire had subsided. She checked again, but no one appeared to be coming after her.

" _Keep going. Look up, we're coming for you."_ Mack's voice sounded calmer.

Quieter now, with only the sound of her boots on the dirt and her breathing, she made directly for the gap in the fence. Burnt-out sentry bots and twisted drone parts were strewn over the scorched ground.

As _The Flower_ appeared over the perimeter fence, Katey let out a breath, her leg becoming numb. The freighter set itself down twenty metres ahead, the rear loading door already open. Mack ran down the ramp, rifle in hand, to help her get on board.

Ascending again, _The Flower_ settled into a stream of craft traversing the upper skyways.

### Chapter 11 – Recollections

One of the last things Katey remembered was stepping onto the freighter ramp before slumping over. As she awoke she felt no pain, hoping her injuries were slight. She did feel, however, the hard, cold floor under her back and legs. Her head woozy, she realised she was lying on the floor of the main cabin. The vibrations and shudders from the craft's structure meant they were airborne.

Placing a hand on her left thigh, she felt a wound bandage underneath a blanket placed over her legs. Trousers? A quick feel of her other leg confirmed she was lying in her underpants. Feeling embarrassment, she thought of the men watching her trousers being removed. Her second thought was regarding the safety of the info disc. She brushed the hidden pocket in her jacket, relieved at feeling the disc's outline.

"Katey. We gave you a shot, cleaned and bandaged the wound. It may feel numb. Can you sit up?" Mack leant over her.

"Yes," she said, aware of the others. Sitting up awkwardly, she placed her arms behind her as her head swam. "Trousers?"

"Shot to shit and cut off you. Techie found a blanket in a locker."

Pain from her left shoulder blade emanated down her arm. Unwilling to tell Mack, she decided she'd get it examined later.

"How did we do, Mack?" she said.

"We copied as much info as possible before we got out. The data is useless crap such as staff holidays and rotas. That's it. How about you?"

"Found the woman. Lots of suspicious loads arrive there. She ran the storeroom but had little access to much else. She couldn't get into position one nine eight's manifest in time – possible security lockdown. I shot her. Got back here. Had a problem with comms."

"Okay. Tinker talked to us. He's obviously disappointed that nothing was found. He said something about your camera having problems for a while. Wants to talk to you privately. We'll get paid at least."

"Danger money more like. Just three of us going in, Mack, bit thin on numbers," Mote said.

"Not now," Mack said sternly, putting a hand up, "not now, okay. We got paid at least and we're in one piece."

"Tinker's buzzing through. Katey, I've set a small screen up in the hold for you," Techie said, glancing at the others.

Dragging herself to her feet, Katey guided herself along the wall into the hold, holding the blanket around her waist. Recounting her story to herself, she took slow deep breaths before the screen link activated.

Tinker's face appeared, stern, unsmiling. "What happened inside the storeroom?"

For a few minutes Katey acted calmly, outlining her actions and finally suggesting the comms distortion was due to heavy equipment on the shelves. She relaxed when the Tinker confirmed that the woman's life indicator, on Techie's screen, had blinked out after she was shot. Hopefully this made her answers more believable.

With the ache growing in her leg and shoulder, she tried not to fidget too much, the small memory device heavy in her pocket.

Apparently satisfied, the Tinker ended the cross-examination. Taking off her shirt, she tied it around her waist like a kilt, put on her jacket and returned to see everyone staring at her. Belting herself into a chair in preparation for landing, she chose not to talk.

Once the pilot gave the signal for disembarkation, Mack checked through all the cabins for any equipment left behind. When satisfied, he set the plas-explosive timer for thirty minutes. Boarding a waiting auto bus driven by another of Tinker's men, they left the deserted space field.

***

"Regg, thoughts?" The Tinker remained sitting in his strongroom after talking to Katey.

"Another silo with nothing specific found. The search for the ore is taking up many resources, sir," Regg said.

The Tinker nodded. No one else could speak to him in such a direct but candid fashion. He valued Regg's honesty.

"Did they search hard enough?"

"They found traces of Locardum but no supportive information. From Techie's deductions, it appears the silo data systems were fried in the raid. Without manifest data, there's very little to go on."

"Do you believe Katey?"

"No. A Locardum hunt and her camera distorts at a key moment. It's unlikely she found out any useful information, sir."

"Too many coincidences with that woman. What's planned for Mack's team?"

"They're due a break, sir. I believe that Katey will need time to recover."

"Let them rest. Send them credits and we'll recall them soon. Check on her movements. We don't want her running off, and make sure she's with Mack at our big weapon unveiling. Then we'll deal with her."

"Yes, sir."

"Moving on, Regg. Let's go over this again. Have we got time?"

"Yes, sir. I cleared your diary this evening for the silo raid."

"Order some pastries for both of us, Regg, and some juice infusions."

Regg tapped a few buttons. "All ordered, sir."

A few pastries later, the Tinker wiped his mouth. "Very nice. I'll start the diet tomorrow." He rubbed his stomach. "Right, we've been over Carac's life enough times, haven't we? He was a cold, clever bastard. Here we are two years later and nothing. Nothing. Have we been too focussed on it?"

"We scanned his family farmland and visited all his mining projects without result, sir. He only needed to contact one person, unknown to us, using an encrypted stream line. They could have organised a shipment of ore within a plain transporter to anywhere across the galaxy," Regg said.

"Okay, Regg, what have we missed?"

"We extracted as much as possible from the male twin Ayleth and nothing useful could be discerned from our man in the studio during Carac's challenge." He displayed a chart highlighting all the main people involved in their investigations.

The Tinker refilled his pipe.

"You mentioned earlier about Carac probably contacting someone to move the ore. When could that have happened?" Tinker said.

"Once he discovered he was on the challenge together with your intention to assist him to win it he must have moved the ore on again as security, in case we double-crossed him. That's what I'd do." Regg didn't take his eyes off his screens.

"Yes and then the idiot went and died on the show, leaving us with no bloody idea where the Locardum is." The Tinker slurped at his juice. "We've gone through records, accidents, news headlines, and reports of transporters going missing. There were multiple deaths during that time – it goes with the territory." The Tinker took a puff on his pipe. Instead of blowing out the smoke, he held it too long and coughed it out.

Regg's fingers played over his screen and a large calendar appeared.

"There were many parties and events happening back then."

"I try to forget this period when we failed to get into the Non-Assoc worlds. We spent many credits wooing their 'so-called' crime lords, or whatever they call themselves. Savages, just a bunch of puffed-up landowners."

"Agreed, sir."

"Regg, thinking back, did I discuss the ore and Carac with our Non-Assoc friends? To impress them, you know. Show them what a proper crime organisation can do."

"You were excited about getting your hands on the ore, sir. It is possible you may have been too exuberant." Regg flicked through the events.

The Tinker put his pipe down. "Enhance racecourse."

Regg pulled up general images of people conversing, drinking, and watching the races.

Clicking his fingers, the Tinker said, "Regg, there is ... um, what's his name, Overlord something from a Non-Assoc, with his right-hand man. They were in a space crash, weren't they? I know I'm getting old, but I remember that."

"Yes, sir. It was Overlord Portain, from Kaznac. A mid-space collision, air pressure problem on board their craft. Space Corps didn't find any foul play."

"I remember now. The twins were there. We discussed how the challenge was coming on and they started arguing with each other."

Regg displayed an overhead view of the Tinker standing on a raised terrace overlooking the racecourse finish line. Holding a drink, dressed in a purple suit, he appeared as a genial, avuncular crime boss, entertaining people and doing deals.

"Enhance it."

Overlord Portain and his man stood on their own near the terrace corner, talking animatedly, hands gesticulating.

"No audio. I can't see their mouths properly, and your security tech has blocked out your conversations."

"Enhance." The Tinker stared at the screen. "That's Mayleth there, standing below the terrace, no one else around. Could she have overheard their conversation?"

"Possible, but she looks upset. You said she'd been arguing with her brother. Probably over his debts to you, sir."

"If she did overhear it, there's a good chance she had no idea what they were talking about. But her high-grade implants could have picked up the conversation. So, I let my tongue run away with itself by mentioning the imminent possession of a valuable ore. Immediately afterwards, two Non-Assoc crimers have an intense discussion in the vicinity of this Mayleth woman, who may have innocently recorded what happened."

"Good assessment, sir. I've examined Mayleth's prison records. Her implants were deactivated after incarceration but left in. They were high spec."

Popping salted crunchies into his mouth, the Tinker studied his screens.

"Kaznac, Non-Association, couldn't be worse. Without any further information we could come up with any possibility. They could have been talking about something unrelated, such as a shipment on another planet. Or that they have it, and now they realise its price has soared. These Non-Assoc types, completely untrustworthy."

"Yes, sir. We don't want to jump to expensive conclusions without more information. Also, sir, there have been no reports of Locardum ore being sold in the past two years."

"Nothing is simple, unlike the old days, when we just used to bust heads. We need Mayleth's implants though. We must be certain. Can't go bogging around Non-Assoc, getting our arses kicked again, or lead them to it."

"The woman is due to take part in the new _Convict Challenge_. Odds are against her winning. It's a run and shoot show this time. If she dies, the implants will automatically corrupt."

"So we kidnap her or get her to win the challenge. Can we at least make sure she gets through the first challenge to give us time to think of something?"

"Good idea, sir. Do you have anyone in mind?"

"Since the last debacle, we have to use people who can get the job done."

"Yes, sir."

The Tinker ran a hand over his pipe collection. He selected a long, thin white Inhab-47 styled pipe.

"Regg, who do we know who is smarmy, violent, charming, and ideal for this job. We need to capture the woman alive, get the implants scanned, then kill her."

"I'll contact Smiler, sir."

### Chapter 12 – Return to prison

Boiled cabbage mixed with antiseptic. The smell brought it all back to her. Five years of incarceration. Five years of a life sentence without hope. Since landing on Crin, the so-called prison planet, her memories came flooding back. There were few happy ones.

Gazing around and up the circular-shaped wing, she spotted the railing she used to lean over, in front of her old cell. No one there.

With her prison guard representative stuck to her side, she stopped inside the communal eating area in the centre of the ground floor. The motivational messages on the large holo screens were unchanged since Brell's internment. A few prisoners sat together talking and reading, the nearby guards visibly on edge due to their "special" visitor.

"Here she is. Brell, welcome back. You coming back to stay with us?" a prisoner shouted out and waved.

"Her show was fragging fixed by her Corps mates," another shouted.

Brell soaked it up with a fixed grin and a hand wave. After all, she was free to leave through the exit door. Guards pushed a woman to one side as they led Brell towards the stairs.

Throwing a floating cam up into the air, she coughed and then said, "Well here I am back on Wing Ninety. It's difficult to sum it all up. I'm almost stuck for words. Doesn't look like it's changed. It still smells the same. I recognise many of the faces here. You may have seen all this before during the challenge. We are going to walk up some stairs towards my old cell to meet our first female challenger."

Four guards stood at the top of the stairs. Brell recognised two of them but didn't say anything. Best to ignore them, too many memories. Presumably the prison overseer was sitting in her office, as normal, viewing everything on her multiscreens, fingers poised over security buttons.

"Well here we are, my old cell. Look" – she pointed to a sign above the door – "it says 'The one that got away', that's nice. Anyway, guess who's in the cell now?"

Brell waited for the beam door to disengage. The prisoner sat on Brell's old bed staring back at her. How the tables had turned. Mayleth Lkardis, once the producer intent on making sure Brell lost her challenge, now incarcerated herself.

"I would like to do an interview here, on camera, on my own. Okay with that?" Brell said, turning to her escort.

"Sure, the door will be left open."

Before sitting down, Brell stood just inside the cell doorway taking it all in. Nothing had changed.

Mayleth appeared tired in her baggy prison jumpsuit. Her once healthy skin colour was now pale in comparison. She had pinched facial features, a slim frame, and her hair sported an efficient prison cut. Going from the Platinum District on Elytia to a prison cell could only be described as a life-changing experience.

"Hello, Mayleth," Brell said, trying not to sound too smug.

Mayleth nodded and swallowed before staring at the floating camera.

"Well, very soon, you'll be a challenger on the new version of _Convict Challenge_. What are your thoughts?"

"I knew they'd choose me."

"Have you seen the other challengers?"

"I'm aware of them, yes. All very good, a mixture. It'll make interesting viewing," she said, trying not to betray any emotion, though she looked at the floor.

"What are your chances?"

"There's always a chance. You should never give up hope," Mayleth said, her voice trailing off.

"This one is different. It involves more chasing, I believe."

"Yes, I've been getting my fitness up." She motioned to a small boxing and running workout machine. A mixture of a punchbag with holographic screens.

"Well, definitely worth doing. Do you think you can win and gain your freedom?"

"Why not?" she said.

Brell thought about what to ask next. Mayleth, in her fifties, was the oldest challenger and not someone you believed could win.

Standing up, Brell said, "Show me your boxing machine."

"Well, it's a basic model."

"How does it work?" Brell fumbled in her pocket for the audio umbrella button.

Mayleth activated the holo screens. "There are various boxing programmes."

"Listen, Mayleth, we don't have long, I've activated an audio umbrella. No one can hear what we're saying. Keep looking and playing with the machine and don't look at the camera or outside the cell. Do you understand?" Brell said, quietly.

"Yes," Mayleth said, uncertain and looking frantically around.

"The Tinker, you met him. Where and when?"

"Why do you want to know?" Mayleth said, making eye contact with Brell.

"It's important."

"They said that before. I'm still here. Nothing happened."

Brell smiled as she pressed a button and jabbed at the punchbag.

"If you have some pertinent information, I'll be able to get you out, reopen an enquiry, get you as a witness," Brell said, aware from Mayleth's expression that she needed to change tack. "Your brother died at the hands of the Tinker."

"My brother's body hasn't been found. He may have disappeared on purpose," Mayleth said.

She pressed another button, and a small holo circle appeared randomly on the bag, inviting the boxer to hit a moving target.

"We could at least search for him properly. I have the Police Corps deputy's ear. He'd be able to order your release, to help us find him and make further investigations. Perhaps get you a retrial. But it depends on information. Where did you meet the Tinker?"

Mayleth sighed. "Roughly, um, five times, I think. At a disgusting racing track three times and twice at his restaurant."

"Did you see or hear anything regarding mining ore or rocks?"

"Rocks? Can't remember that specifically. At the races he always surrounded himself with distasteful people, just like himself, doing deals whilst boasting about his empire."

Brell, aware of the time spent discussing a boxing machine, said, "Did you have audio and security implants?"

"Yes, high spec. Still implanted ... but deactivated," Mayleth said, then she changed her tone as she said, "If I die, all information held on them automatically corrupts."

"Okay, if you think of anything, I can visit you again in the studios."

Mayleth shot her a glance. "Don't think time heals or that I'll necessarily help you."

As much as Brell wanted to punch Mayleth on the nose for many reasons, too much was at stake. Professional calm was required, especially whilst on camera.

"Okay, but think about it," she said, turning off the audio umbrella. "So how often do you use the punchbag?"

"At least once a day," Mayleth said, immediately back into the conversation.

"Well, you need to be fit for the show." Brell turned to the camera. "Well there you have it, our oldest challenger, who is not going to be an easy pushover and is in training. There will be more interviews with Mayleth when she arrives in the studios, so think of any questions you want to ask her."

Plucking the floating camera out of the air, she turned back to face Mayleth. "See you soon. Good luck."

Making no attempt to smile, Mayleth sat back on the bed.

Leaning on the rail outside the cell, Brell stared down at the communal area, as she used to do every day when she was there.

"Okay, ready to move on?" the escort said.

They walked back down the stairs to meet a gaggle of prisoners corralled in a corner.

"Hi, Brell. You're looking good," a prisoner said.

"Hi, everyone." Brell gave an embarrassed wave, grateful for the clothing recommendations given by the apartment bot. She stayed downbeat, not overdoing the fact she was free.

The handpicked women cheered and clapped. One shouted, "You smacked that bastard Carac good."

"I hope everyone is well," Brell said. "Thank you for your support when I was in the challenge. I have a present for everyone. A little something from the outside."

On saying "outside", whoops and shouts erupted.

"Got you some new boxing gear, to get you lot off your backsides." She pointed at two larger-built women.

After some laughter and few more exchanges, Brell said, "Well I have to go, so best of luck to you all."

Making a short bow as the inmates clapped, Brell raised her hand as if drinking a toast and said, "Girls." The inmates understood the salute to them, which Brell regularly did direct to camera during her challenge.

Exiting the wing was a relief. On the previous occasion she'd wore beam cuffs whilst being walked to a prison transport for onward travel to the challenge studios. It crossed her mind that the guards would haul her back to a cell for no particular reason. She shrugged the thought away.

A small rail transporter whisked them off to another wing, holding the three other female challengers, Mkalma, Bhoja, and Nesta. Interviewing them in their cells, Brell thought their names sounded like a legal advice firm.

As each woman told her story, Brell recognised their sense of resignation. It was the same feeling she'd had when first told about _Convict Challenge_. Careful not to gloat about her freedom, she acknowledged each woman's qualities, strengths, and fighting spirit.

Continually believing Mourge had arranged for her immediate detention, she felt she couldn't relax until the visit ended. Walking through the final exit gate, she savoured the fresh air and the feeling of freedom.

***

A hot shower later, Brell felt more rested. Mentally tiring is how she would describe the day, though at least she hadn't let herself down with any emotional moments on camera.

First, she read a message from the apartment bot. It had arranged a service for _Lulu_ and sent an inspection drone to keep an eye on things. Thorough and with common sense, Brell was impressed. With security clearance, the bot could be very useful.

Next, she contacted Brune.

"Brune. Update message, are you free?" There was a pause whilst the secure comms channel loaded and connected.

"Yes, Brell. How did it go?" Brune sat in his working uniform at his Police Corps desk. He was half way through eating a sandwich.

"Mayleth met the Tinker three times at a racecourse and twice at his restaurant. She clammed up and was hesitant," Brell said.

"Do you think she knows anything?"

"Difficult to know. I bullshitted her about getting a new enquiry into her brother's disappearance, and she lightened a bit then. But the problem is she's going onto the challenge soon," Brell said.

"Does she have a chance?" Brune said, glancing at his uneaten sandwich.

"She'll probably be stuffed in the first five minutes, but she may have info on her audio implant, which, she delighted in telling me, corrupts itself upon her death."

"Any info would be of value anyway, in terms of the Tinker's criminal links and associations"

"Good point, yes, enough to keep detectives going for months. But what about the Locardum?" Brell said.

"I can task a researcher to go over the race and restaurant visits, must be plenty of intelligence to dig into. Would be full of Tinker's people who we should know already." Brune said, unable to resist biting into his meal.

"The thing is, she may have recorded something on her implant relating to the Locardum, which she can't remember herself. It's like a pissing contest sometimes with these criminals, bragging about what they're going to do next. The shrewd ones stay quiet. But information, even a snippet about the Locardum, would be invaluable."

"I'll update the deputy. He may not trust information which may or may not be contained on a dormant implant. Despite the importance of it, he's reluctant to do any deals in case it goes wrong. He doesn't want to affect his chances of promotion to be chief." Brune said.

"Thought so. Frigger. Can we not get the Judiciary Corps to bail her pending a retrial because of new information received? Or a court order?"

"Unlikely, we tried that before. We'd need the deputy's permission," Brune said, frowning.

"We could spring her out, for example when she's on the transporter to the studios? Obviously unlawful."

Brune made no reply.

"Mayleth arrives at the studio's cells in a week's time, before the start of the first challenge. Perhaps we may be able to scan her implants then. It's been nearly two years. We don't have much else to go on. Got to be worth a try. We'll need a lot of luck." Brell said.

Brune rubbed his chin. Brell stared at him. Although a lover of regulations, he knew short cuts may be required. Thankfully, he'd broken the rules during her challenge, but a second time and his career would be over.

"I'll speak to Scrivvens. He may have a way of checking the implants. He may also find something when he visits Carac's sister in the next couple of days."

"Just a thought. Regarding the researcher, the bot at my apartment could be very useful. Her skills are way above her placement. If security clearance is possible, we could keep this whole thing to ourselves, in-house."

Brune nodded. "Appreciate that. Send me the bot's registration details for the background checks."

"Give the deputy my regards. Brune, take care. Speak soon."

"See you. Good fortune," Brune said, waving goodbye.

### Chapter 13 – The farm

Scrivvens' journey on his glide scooter from the local Police Corps building to the farmhouse had been pleasant. Tree-lined roads gave way to orchards and farmland with multicoloured crops giving it a patchwork effect. The local houses retained a vintage look, despite all the modern technology available. It was an area typical of planet Grundine, with many inhabitants being descendants of the "first farmers". Due to the inhabitants' conservative nature, he'd travelled to the planet on his own, without Delta.

Pulling over, he stood for a moment, enjoying the fresh air. The view reminded him of home. Eventually he took out a drone from a saddlebag and threw it into the air before continuing his journey.

Minutes later, a farmhouse came into view, the homestead owned by the Montil family, where Carac's "disowned" sister, Petuna, and niece Katey lived. In Scrivvens' mind, if Brell believed the farm required a visit, that provided sufficient justification on its own. However, the likelihood of a stash of Locardum lying on the kitchen floor was very unlikely.

Modestly sized, the building had a small front veranda and a white picket fence a few metres back from the main roadway. With one upstairs floor and a front-facing window, its square shape fitted in with neighbouring dwellings. A series of outbuildings containing the normal automated farm equipment complemented the farmhouse.

Gliding up the front path, he parked his scooter at the side of the building. He'd chosen to wear a plain business suit rather than his Corps uniform.

"Inspector Scrivvens, Police Corps. May I ask you a few questions?"

"What do you want?" a woman said, her face appearing from behind the front door.

"It's regarding your brother, Carac. Just background information."

"He's dead. Is that enough background information?" she said, her voice flat, monotone.

Scrivvens examined the woman's eyes: pale blue, but distrustful and suspicious. She was about fifty years old, with an unsmiling and almost permanently scornful face. The strands of dry brittle hair testament to her hard working life.

"Yes, I know. A fresh matter has come to light concerning an accident in space. It's a cold case review. We do not believe Mr Montil is involved, but we have to ask questions," Scrivvens said in a reassuring manner.

Petuna Montil-Perrwinken hovered by the door before opening it wider to invite him inside. A smell of dust, rotten vegetables, and soil greeted him. With the floorboards creaking, he followed her into the parlour, to be waved into a hard-backed chair.

"Would you like a drink?" she said.

"No, I'm fine."

Petuna sat on a cosy seat opposite Scrivvens. "What do you want to know?"

"I'm not here to discuss the challenge or his convictions."

"Good."

"Did he ever mention about finding ore, mineral rocks? Or anything about arranging transportation from a mine on planet Grab?"

"No, I disowned him years ago," she said, drawing on her smoke tube. Without looking at Scrivvens, she blew the vapour to the ceiling, elbow perched on the armrest.

"A spacecraft on its way to a pleasure moon exploded a few years back. Carac knew about the miners. Their relatives have pressed for the matter to be investigated again. We were wondering, now he's passed away, if there's anything you know about the spacecraft incident?"

"No."

"Did you receive credits, presents, etc., even after his demise?"

"No, we don't have any of his possessions here."

"When was the last time you received any communication from him?

"Fifteen years ago."

Scrivvens paused at the sound of creaking floorboards.

Anticipating his question, Petuna said, "That's my daughter Grisella." She turned her face towards the doorway.

Grisella Katey Montil-Perrwinken limped into the room dressed in striped pyjamas. Her face was round and lean, suggesting an athletic build underneath the baggy pyjama top. In her early twenties, her shock of white hair, cut in a short bob, complemented her white skin and blue eyes. She rested her forearms on the back of a chair and leaned forward.

"Hi. Who's this, Momma? What's happened?" Katey said.

"Nothing. This is Mr Scrivvens from Police Corps.He's asking about Uncle Carac," she said turning back to Scrivvens."Grisella is recovering from a leg injury – she banged into one of our older crop bots."

"I hope you make a full recovery," Scrivvens said.

"It'll take time, but I'll be okay," Katey said.

"I was after some background information, regarding your uncle Carac."

"He's dead."

"I am aware of that. Did he visit you much?

"He hasn't dared show his face here for years. Got too big for his boots to visit a lowly farmstead," Katey said, glancing at her mother.

"Did he ever contact either of you and talk about ore, rocks, shipments, miners or something like that?"

"No. Nothing. Me and Momma run the farm, keep ourselves to ourselves. We take little interest in anything off-world." She glanced briefly at her mother.

"What happened for you to lose contact?"

"He got promoted and wanted to cover up his humble beginnings, so he ignored us. We were an embarrassment to him. Didn't want us ruining his life."

"So, this your family house?"

"Yes, my parents inherited it from their parents and so on back down the generations."

"Do you mind if I look around?"

"Do you need a search warrant or something?" Petuna said.

"I'm not conducting a search, purely interested in the building itself, its history. Mr Montil is dead, and I can see talking about him is difficult, so I have no further questions in that regard."

Petuna shrugged her shoulders. "Okay." She squinted at Katey.

***

As Scrivvens and her mother left the room, Katey took a slim laser pistol out of her pyjama pocket. Positioning herself in the parlour doorway, she bent her neck to see into the rear living room. Scrivvens, his back to her, was examining a wooden upright chronometer.

"A nice piece. Hjalian, I believe?" Scrivvens said.

Tightening her grip on the pistol, Katey stepped soundlessly into the corridor. Scrivvens stood less than two metres away. Applying a light touch on the trigger, she aimed at his head, relaxed her shoulders, and waited for her mother's signal.

Their eyes met, followed by an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

"Yes, it's been in our family for a long time," Petuna said, turning back towards their visitor.

Katey stepped back into the parlour, replacing the pistol back into her pocket. Limping along, she went into the kitchen to wait.

"And here's the kitchen. We've kept it in the old style but have every type of enhancement."

Scrivvens entered first, hands in pockets, peering around, examining knick-knacks on a shelf. Petuna stared back at her daughter before joining him.

"This reminds me of a neighbour's house, years ago. It retained all its old features, too. I always enjoyed visiting as it smelled of fresh bread."

Finally, they both walked outside into the rear yard. Katey stood up and leant against the doorframe, watching them. She casually toyed with the pistol in her pocket whilst looking towards her mother, who gave a slight hand wave behind her back. Katey limped down the step to join them.

After a quick look inside one of the bot sheds, Scrivvens said, "Thank you. I've taken up enough of your time." He rubbed his hands together. "If you remember any information, let me know." Fishing inside a jacket pocket, he handed over a holo calling card.

Once outside he got onto his glide scooter and drove off.

***

They waited a while to ensure Scrivvens had left the area, and then went back into the house, Katey showing no sign of a limp.

"Does he suspect anything?"

"Not sure," Katey said.

"Should we have slow-drugged him?"

"No. Even if he died next week, it wouldn't take much for them to become suspicious."

"Cautious as always, aren't you," Petuna said.

"We want the ore, but it's not going to be easy. If Uncle Carac had won the challenge he would have sorted us out."

"That blue bitch."

"So we have to be careful. I've got some leads. The Tinker doesn't have it, that's for sure, and judging by our visitor, the Corps don't know either. So back to our original theory. Uncle Carac probably moved the ore when he was in prison, to protect us."

"Well, get on with finding it. The farm needs the credits. We may have to sell more land or old crop bots to the neighbours. It's your inheritance, after all. Ma and Pa would spin in their graves out there if the farm was sold."

"Momma, I'm working through all my info on eight silo pickups – not easy with unregistered craft and unidentifiable pilots. It points towards three Non-Association worlds. We'll find it and sell it, just like Uncle Carac wanted."

"With the Locardum, we'll buy up those neighbours. Can't wait to see the look on their faces."

"We will find it, Momma."

"That's down to you." She pointed a finger at Katey's face.

"Patience, Momma, it'll take time."

"Patience ... you always say patience. Uncle Carac knew about patience and when to attack his enemies. That's how the miners came to be blown up. Clearing up the problems, he used to say."

"I'm going to change out of these pyjamas. I'll see if any scans of the Corpsman reveal anything. Doubt it, he wasn't as green as he looked."

"Your limp looked convincing."

"Thanks, always works – that and wearing pyjamas. My thigh wound still hurts inside the muscle actually. My last appointment is at the docs next week. Thankfully, my shoulder has healed."

Petuna lit up a smoke, stood by the back door, and blew the vapour out into the yard.

***

Later that evening, Katey ended her exercise routine and went upstairs for food and fresh air. When at home, she preferred to stay in the basement rather than her childhood room. The basement, which extended under the whole house, consisted of a wall lined with technological gadgets, together with a bed and fitness area.

Sitting in the kitchen, she ate silently on her own, whilst her mother watched her favourite nightly drama show in another room. At a time like this, she missed her Space Corps days and the camaraderie with Mack's team.

The twilight sky outside had given way to darkness, but the air through the open door was still warm. Animals bellowed whilst being herded into a nearby extracting shed by three shepherd bots as the smell of her mother's smoke vapour hung in the air.

She reflected on the visitor. He mentioned ore, obviously meaning the Locardum, but hadn't given anything away and the scans showed he hadn't carried any hidden equipment. Having replayed the images, she noticed that he conducted himself well, no sudden movements when Momma looked away. Was he aware he would be scanned?

The questions were not too searching. In fact, he appeared to regard the farmhouse with genuine interest. Killing him would have made the situation more complex, unlike Momma's view, which normally started by bumping people off and working backwards from there.

This was how it was, her and her mother, no brothers or sisters. Until, of course, the right man came along to marry and work the farm.

"It's your heritage," her mother would say for as long as she could remember.

A virgin bride, a strong husband, children, working the farm, just as previous generations had done.

It was also mother's orders.

She stood inside the doorway, looking beyond the sheds towards the small hillock and its single tree. Birds gathered on its branches to start their sombre evening chorus. The tree, the special place, the resting place of her first and only boyfriend.

***

"He attacked your virtue."

"He loves me."

"Really? His hands were up your jumper. Keeping his hands warm, was he?"

Katey made no reply. Aged sixteen and with her mother's reluctant permission, she dated a young man. If he turned out well, and subject to mother's say-so, they would secure the future of the Montil lineage.

Her mother walked slowly into the kitchen, gazing at Katey, who stared at the floor.

"Sorry, Momma."

"He was never going to be any good for the farm. Not the type. Just after you know what."

"I'll find another boy, Momma."

"Not for a while. You'll have to learn to subdue your urges and keep your virtue intact until your wedding night. Hard farm work or a disciplined job should do it."

"Yes, Momma. Are we going to let him go?" Katey said.

"He's no good. Doesn't deserve to live," her mother said, walking outside.

A moment later she returned pushing a glide sled, the unmoving youth's body enmeshed in a soft wire net.

"Is he dead?"

"No, sprayed unconscious. I'm thinking this is the perfect time for your test. How much of a Montil are you? Do you have our gene?"

"Yes, Momma."

The youth breathed heavily, legs and arms curled inwards, head buried into his chest.

"His family?" Petuna said.

"Birthing pool, never mentioned parents. Stays in a large boarding house full of temporary workers."

"Perfect. Rent unpaid, just another itinerant worker. Police Corps won't bother. Here ..." She tossed Katey a battered laser rifle.

They trooped along the yard, up the far hill, pushing the unfortunate youth in front of them.

Untying the net, they pushed him off the sled onto the earth.

"Ready?"

Katey nodded and stood over the youth, her legs slightly apart.

"There" – her mother jabbed a finger onto a spot at the back of the youth's head – "that's the best place."

Katey pulled the stock into her shoulder, aimed, paused a moment, then squeezed the trigger.

P-zoom.

The muffled shot echoed into the night.

"That's it now. Best thing. You're definitely a Montil now."

The youth's body remained unmoved by the impact of the shot, which left a clean laser hole. Katey's mother picked up a canister of "Disposa Animal Dust" from the rear of the sled and sprinkled the contents over the body.

Once exposed to air, the dust created sufficient heat to cause the body and clothing to combust. Barely a trace of burnt grass remained.

"I'll get one of the bots to dig it over and plant some flowers tomorrow."

That was Katey's first kill.

Mother's orders.

***

Katey tidied up the kitchen and went back down into the basement. Tonight, she would watch a romantic drama for half an hour, continue with the Locardum investigation, and finally indulge herself with some self-pampering.

***

Scrivvens took his time riding back to the space port, as he intended to enjoy watching the surrounding countryside in the late afternoon light. On route, he rode to his rendezvous point to collect his drone, which lay on a patch of grass behind a tree. Wiping it over, he popped it into his saddle bag and continued his journey, waving occasionally at workers.

The colours of the countryside gave way to duller town conurbations, shops and small industrial estates. He watched the flight activity of the various freighters, skiffs and transporters arriving or taking off at the local space port and adjusted his route accordingly.

After a short delay he boarded the space bus and made his way to a private cabin. Once settled inside, he switched on a bank of screens, and waited for an encrypted link.

Whilst wandering from room to room inside the farmhouse, talking and distracting the two women, his drone had taken high-spectrum images of the whole site, buildings and land. It appeared that the basement was larger than normal for houses of that size and contained high-powered equipment. Replicators, communication spirals, conduit feeds, and high-spec holo screens. Not bad for a humble family run farm.

He re-read the family archive together with Police Corps intelligence files.

Petuna and Carac's parents died from heart failure within a week of each other. By virtue of local laws, the farm buildings and land were inherited by the two surviving children. Petuna's husband, Katey's father, walked out a few days later after a row. He apparently made a new life for himself, though his whereabouts were not known.

Scrivvens examined another scan made of the outlying fields. There were two body outlines next to each other in a small orchard – presumably the parents.

Body remains aside, the scan didn't show any traces of underground silos, large pits or deposits of Locardum.

As for Grisella, Police Corps knew about her associations with the Tinker. No specific evidence existed of her killing anyone, as the Tinker was good at covering his tracks. Grisella? No wonder she used her middle name, Katey.

It was interesting, though, that she had left the farm work and joined the Space Corps, where she'd excelled. Perhaps it was her way of rebelling or needing discipline. He laughed to himself. Later, after resigning, she went freelance and hooked up with the Tinker's mob. What would be her motive? The link between Carac, the Tinker, and the value of Locardum to the family farm was too strong to ignore.

The mother, Petuna, a robust woman, was typical of those farming communities, not unlike Scrivvens' own mother.

Brell was right; Carac had not been disowned by his sister. He'd wanted to ensure the farm stayed in the family. With no traces of ore, or signs of wealth, they lived within their means, but a land sale last year showed credits were needed. Perhaps Katey believes the Tinker will lead her to it, hence why she's become a gang member.

He'd update the commander in the morning. Standing up, he put a hand out to steady himself. This type of craft never gave the smoothest of rides.

After sending a quick zap message to Delta, he settled into bed, but he woke up immediately when a new message binged on a side screen.

Scrivvens. Two things. Can we remotely scan Mayleth's implants for audio content before she appears on the first challenge? Second, can you contact Brell regarding the worker bot in her apartment on Elytia. Thanks. Cmndr S'T.

Thankfully, it could wait for a few hours. He needed to sleep.

### Chapter 14 – In you go

"And here come two of the meanest challengers, ladies and gentlemen," Lexi said as a large security gate opened.

Standing on a small podium, she surveyed the secure compound positioned within the outer walls of the prison on Crin. An oblong-shaped transporter sat waiting for its passengers on a round landing pad.

Valvin's production team had worked tirelessly on setting up cameras and recording equipment in order to capture each challenger's journey from prison cell to transporter. After a short flight, it would dock with a long-range transporter to travel to the studio cells on Elytia.

"Our first two challengers, Klak and Szalma, are being led up the ramp, their last steps on prison soil. Oh, Klak has stopped walking and is turning round to size up the other man," Lexi said, peering from camera to the prisoners, a safe distance away.

"You'll be the first to go down," Klak said, trying to aim a punch, but forgetting that his wrists were secured with hard beam cuffs.

"Frotter," Szalma said back.

The two men continued to shout verbal taunts at each other until the prison guards lamely pulled them apart.

"Your mother is an ox," Szalma said, attempting to raise his voice.

"You are a fraghead," Klak said, kicking out wildly as he was pushed into the craft.

"Well there we are, two challengers trying to tear each other apart before arriving at the studio cells on Elytia," Lexi said, smiling into the camera. "They haven't even got off the prison planet yet. It's exciting already."

" _Lexi, off air for a commercial break. We'll be back with Theo at the next cell location. You've got a few minutes_ ," Valvin's voice said via a comms unit from the comfort of his production cube in the studios on Elytia.

Dropping her smile, Lexi brushed her skirt with a hand and stared into a mirror. She had chosen dark colours for the dress fabric to match the serious mood of the event. "What the frag was that argument about? Did anyone tell them it was supposed to be a 'spontaneous' event," she said.

" _We gave them their cue_ ," Valvin said. " _It wasn't your fault, Lexi, you were great_."

"Thanks, VV," she said, taking a swig of water.

Watching the live feeds from a subscreen, Lexi followed Nesta, the next prisoner to leave on her journey through the prison complex.

"Here she comes. The first female challenger approaches. She's tall, fit and strong. A killer. Boys, you had better watch out."

The guards, each holding an arm, walked Nesta towards the transporter. Turning, she gave a uninterested glare at Lexi before disappearing inside.

"A killer's look. I'm glad I'm far away from her. Intense. There she goes, up to her holding cell. They'll have to keep a special eye out for her. Dangerous," Lexi said, raising her hand to emphasise her commentary.

Nesta disappeared inside.

"Another one locked up. Who's next, Theo?"

***

Watching the live event from the living room back on Elytia, Brell was thankful that she hadn't been asked to stay on Crin to cover the prisoners leaving their cells. Lexi, despite Brell's initial misgivings about the woman, was performing confidently, though the studio's attempts at creating friction between prisoners was lame. The guards bringing out Nesta stared at Lexi's legs so much they nearly lost their footing walking up the ramp.

The studio was going for broke with the placement of the cameras. With cams floating in the air, sewed into clothing, as well as static ones, the only place without a camera was the privy. Brell remembered a junior producer pushing for cameras to be placed in showers and suggesting they could manufacture a romance between two of the challengers. Valvin waved him away, thankfully.

Brell watched until each challenger was safely aboard.

"Hello?" Brell said aloud.

"Madam?" The apartment bot walked in from the corridor.

"I need to record my view on the challengers for the studio. Before starting, can you suggest any way to make it easier?"

"Madam, I used to take notes for lecturers at the science lab and prepare them into a presentation. If you talk aloud about each challenger, I can polish it up, correct any grammar, and prepare it as filming prompt script."

"Ignore any swearing like fragger, frigging, fracker, fucker, arse, that sort of thing."

"Yes, madam. Fragger, frigging, fracker, fucker, arse. Any other swear words?" the bot said, pronouncing them with perfect diction.

"There may be a few more – look them up."

"Yes, madam."

Speaking aloud, Brell proceeded to talk through her thoughts on the show and individual challengers, using her own and studio notes.

After a quick break, she changed into the clothes previously chosen by the bot.

"It's better standing in front of the plain wall, the background complements your clothes. Also, I have tidied up your verbal comments, taken out the swearing and am ready to work the holo prompter," the bot said.

Brell started by commenting on her own challenge, using studio-provided dumbed-down questions.

Any regrets?

Not an easy question. She had too many regrets to think of. In terms of her challenge, she regretted never being able to see Meren, the Jayzan nun, again. What else, prison?

"Regrets? I regret the actions which got me into prison in the first place." That was better. Truth rather than sarcasm.

"Ready for the next section?"

The bot nodded.

"Six men, four women, all serving life sentences for murder. Who are the ones to watch? Of the women, there is Bhoja the freelance soldier, and Nesta, the female assassin. Both are strong fighting women. Mkalma and Mayleth will need to work hard to stay alive. As for the men, Huilette a follower of the Daa'shin religion, Klak, an uncomplicated individual, and Pagla the murdering stockbroker, have the mental and physical attributes to get through to the final rounds. As for the other three – Ugga, Szalma and Crivon – they may rely on others to make a mistake. Sound okay?" Brell said.

"Fine."

"Let's have a look at them in detail. You can also view their biographies on the challenge stream site."

After giving an overview of the strengths and weaknesses of each challenger, Brell finished by saying, "Ultimately it will come down to guts, determination and luck."

Brell took a breath and poked her tongue out in mock exhaustion.

"I will check the recordings and send it to the producer. Good job, madam."

"Did you just say 'good job'?"

"Yes, madam. Are you unhappy with praise? I can stop talking like that if you prefer."

"No, it's okay. Praise is welcome. It's ridicule that I don't like."

"Understood, madam. Your clothes suit you very well."

"Just talk normally, forget about the praise all the time," Brell said, wandering out into the kitchen.

"Yes, madam. May I say that I also learnt some new swear words."

Brell stopped, put her hand on the doorframe, and looked back at the bot. "Frackfucker."

"I'll add that one to the list, madam."

### Chapter 15 – Smiler makes plans

The hotel had seen better days. Located in an outer suburb of the Elytian capital, the building was one of many faded old structures, the last remnants of the once wealthy area. Since the factories had closed, unemployment had spiralled as the working classes gravitated to newer industries.

Smiler could have stayed in a plusher establishment, but he preferred to inhabit the seedier side of town. Pleasure bots and workers cost less, people didn't ask questions, plus he felt a sense of belonging. Of course, he would bill the Tinker for the price of a more expensive hotel.

His suite of rooms were tired, with flaky paint on the once ornate ceiling and frayed curtains heavy with dust. Sitting on a high-backed chair, he crunched his way through a handful of peanuts, staring into his bank of screens.

Born on an insignificant planet, in a birthing pool without knowing his parents, he'd stowed away on board a transporter at ten years old to start his life of crime. Gravitating towards the Tinker's empire, he worked his way up the ranks until he was accused of overreaching his position. Instead of returning with increased loyalty towards the Tinker after his enforced stint as a "worker" in a drug factory, he seethed with resentment.

"I have a very important job for you, Smiler. Give you another chance, as they say," the Tinker had said recently.

"Certainly, Tinker. I won't let you down," Smiler replied, hoping his voice sounded believable – as revenge, as they say, is always sweet.

Watching different views of Mayleth from live feeds, Smiler studied her body language. She looked nervous and uncertain. As for her looks ... well, she was older than the others, with few feminine curves. But, Smiler considered, she would perform many personal tricks for him, especially if it meant her freedom.

He crunched another handful of nuts.

" _Boss,"_ the slow deep voice of Bim sounded from Smiler's comm cube, _"I've got the techno."_

"Send him in."

Bim shuffled in, pushing a nervous youth in front of him. In his late teens, wearing an old-style suit, the youth's trousers didn't quite reach his ankles and his tie was unevenly knotted.

"So you're the technology wizard?" Smiler's voice was smooth and melodic, as befitted a man in control.

"Yes, that's correct, sir."

Grabbing the youth by the throat, Smiler pushed him backwards up against wall.

The youth's eyes locked onto Smiler's grinning face as he clutched his collar, gasping, his teeth clamped together.

"Don't let me down, my boy. You are here because I couldn't get an old colleague of mine. Mistakes will not be tolerated. Clear?"

He loosened his grip, patted the youth's jacket lapels, and returned to his chair.

"Sit down, both of you. We have a lot to go through," he said, as if nothing had taken place.

The youth rubbed at his throat and straightened his tie, noticing Bim grinning at him.

"We've been set a task by the Tinker. You see this woman?" He pointed at Mayleth. "We need to get her out of the challenge or find a way to extract information from her implants."

"Yes, s-sir." The youth stumbled over his two-word reply.

"We have to remain secretive, as we believe that woman has information about some very valuable ore called Locardum," Smiler said. Seeing Bim's quizzical face, he added. "Rocks, a load of rocks mined out of the ground. Very valuable." He smiled.

Bim nodded in understanding. The youth looked between both men, as if wondering if he could leave and never return. Too late now.

"So, I need your confidence. Smiler likes to take his cut. He looks after those who help him, does what he says. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let's get on."

Outlining his thoughts about the challengers and different ways of gaining information from Mayleth, Smiler laid out his plans.

"It has to be subtle, no boom boom, Bim. Not this time. Too much security and cameras."

Bim nodded sagely.

"The other thing is this blue woman." He made a finger movement, after which images of Brell appeared. "She was in the first challenge and is still cosy with her Police Corps mates, who may know something about the ore. She's one to watch."

"Bim, get our new team member settled in," Smiler said, not taking his eyes off the images of Brell.

### Chapter 16 – Do you trust me?

"Hi, Brell," Scrivvens said, his face pale under the glow of the cabin lights. "Been stuck here for a day – pretty basic living, despite all this technology."

She nodded back. Poor old Scrivvens. The final part of his journey back to Elytia onboard a Space Corps craft was turning into a nightmare. A power surge had rippled through the craft, causing a main engine failure. With the captain shutting down other engines as a safety precaution, they floated in space, waiting for Space Corps assistance. At least they had power for craft stability, gravity and main systems. With the auto chefs and privies blowing their main components, Scrivvens ate cold mush and had to pee in a bucket.

"How long until the other craft gets to you?"

"Another five hours. We're all on a security rota in case of attack."

"Feel a bit guilty here in my plush apartment. Are you okay with the bot's examination?"

"Yes, I'm not on duty for another two hours – it gives me something to do. Stream links still work, thankfully, at the moment anyway. Before we start, Mayleth's implant requires a sensor to be placed directly onto her skin. So, close contact only. Nothing remote, I'm afraid."

"Makes it difficult, but let's see if Brune can come up with anything. Okay, let's sort out the bot. What's best?" Brell said.

"Bring her in. I'll give her some instructions. Won't take too long."

"Hello, bot, can you come inside the office please and talk to my colleague."

The bot came in and stood near the desk where Brell was sitting.

"Yes, madam."

"Do you remember that I wanted to check your security specifications and that Mr Scrivvens was going to help me?"

"Yes, madam," the bot said, uncertainly.

"Well, it's time. I need to perform some tests."

"I should inform my employer, madam."

"Hold on. Please. Do you trust me?" Brell stared at the bot.

"Yes, madam."

"The tests could result in you leaving the apartment and travelling with me, perhaps. Would you like that?"

"Yes, madam."

"Open your forearm casing so that Brell can connect a transmitter," Scrivvens said.

Putting out its right forearm, the bot delicately flipped open an invisible flap with its left forefinger. Brell inserted a small metallic tube into one of three small connectors, motioning the bot to close the flap.

"Communicating," Scrivvens said.

The bot stared at a wall.

"Internal link established. Neck scan, please."

Dropping its head a fraction, Brell passed a small instrument over the back of its neck.

"Done," Scrivvens said. "Last, I need to examine the bot's shell."

"Can you turn off your holo skin?"

Appearing to hesitate, the bot said, "All off, madam?"

"It won't take long. Trust us, okay?"

"Yes, madam," the bot said, its voice unemotional.

The body casing was an off-white colour. Its slightly dome-shaped head, like a beret hat, accommodated the holographic effect of a raised hairline. Everything else was perfectly proportioned.

"Brell, please complete a wide scan of her body, front, side, and back."

Brell fished out a handheld scanner.

"Open your mouth wide," Brell said, examining the full set of teeth. "Move your tongue ... Good. Now stand with your legs wide apart and hands raised to the side."

Dull colourless eyes gazed at her. Vulnerable, questioning, or concerned, they were difficult to read. Slowly passing the scanner over the bot's face and neck, Brell felt a growing feeling of embarrassment as she viewed the breasts – small, pert and without nipple definition. She reminded herself this was a plastic shell casing, but the body definition was well formed, as if moulded from a real person.

The bot's pubic region had a smooth feminine roundness but no genitalia.

"Turn sideways."

After scanning the bot's rear, sides, and the soles of each foot, Brell coughed.

"Legs apart, bend down and touch your toes, please."

"Yes, madam." The bot's voice was now a whisper.

Having interacted with the bot and enjoyed its personality, it was difficult to divorce herself from a sense of causing a vulnerable individual to submit themselves to an intimate, but necessary, security inspection.

It was similar, in Brell's Police Corps experience, to when prisoners were scanned as part of the booking-in process. Objects that Brell had found hidden inside body orifices was another story.

As she started the scan, she thought of what her friend Wanda would make of her bending over examining a bot's backside.

The bot remained in the bent over position until Scrivvens said, "Scan complete. Can you send the bot away so I can discuss the results."

"All done, you can stand up. Please unhook the transmitter and put your skin colour thing back on," Brell said, standing to one side.

The bot stood up, turned around and examined Brell, then stared at the floor. "Yes, madam."

As the bot walked out of the office, it changed into its usual business suit. Wiping her brow, Brell drank some water.

Scrivvens continued with his assessment. "Nothing hidden inside the body shell, female outline, well made. No openings, apart from the mouth, ears and nose, so built as a serious, not pleasure, bot. Its outer skin layer for the head and hands is of a high specification. Very 'person-like', you might say."

"What about the holo capabilities?" Brell said.

"The whole body is covered in good-quality holo skin, allowing the bot to change its appearance in its shell or just its head or hands if wearing clothes. A bit like naked people painted with clever paint designs making them appear clothed." Scrivvens said.

"The brain?"

"The main architecture is beautifully written. Adaptive, able to react to surroundings and conversations. I can show you an excerpt of a presentation given by the bot's creator, Pernella Tolssen. Any similarities, do you think?"

Pernella stood in a laboratory, pointing to and explaining about equipment lying on top of a workbench. In her late thirties, with plain facial features, she'd tied her hair in a bun and had a slender body.

"Yes, the body outline is very similar. The bot's default facial features are alike, but not an exact match, thank goodness. It mentioned working for her creator. Was it an experiment?"

"Pernella was a research scientist and a highly skilled robo programmer who was given a large budget to create lab assistants. It appears she took things a stage further and implanted her brain patterns and memories into the bot. Unfortunately, the lab went into financial difficulties so pulled the plug."

"Any background on Pernella?"

"Colleagues described her as a positive woman, very talented, loyal, good fun, a team player, but she never found the right person in her private life. Bit of a frustrated spinster is how one colleague described her. They were saddened by her death from an incurable disease."

"The bot enjoys beam drama shows of all things."

"Escapism, what her creator may have liked, yearning for romance perhaps?"

"Police Corps material?"

"No doubt about that. The apartment builders didn't know what they had in front of them and gave her a clumsy downgrade. Apart from all the required security elements, do you want me to turn up her personality modes?"

"What do you recommend?"

"For Delta, I turned up her reaction, tactile and pleasure sensors. This allows her to feel pain earlier and react with force if necessary. Pleasure sensors in body parts and brain were an important part of Delta's past occupation, allowing her to react to clients' wishes more willingly."

"I understand the tactile and reaction, but I never thought of happiness or pleasure. Could it lead the bot astray? Do things without our permission?" Brell said.

"No, its basic programming is to perform its duty, so internally there are safeguards in the system such as honesty, if asked. To sense feelings and satisfaction in others, the bot needs those feelings themselves. Very useful during undercover work. For example, Delta listened in to a conversation a while ago and sensed two people becoming unhappy, argumentative. I intervened in time to stop them drawing weapons."

"Also, I suppose a bit of pleasure makes a happy bot. Let's do the upgrades. I'll talk to the bot."

"It needs a personal visit, which I can do after the challenge show, to make a direct system input. I need to organise a few things beforehand – in particular, a cover story to satisfy the bot's owners. The bot can start its basic training course straight away."

"Appreciate it, thanks. Change of conversation. Do you think you can get here before the first challenge starts?"

"I'm hoping they can fix this craft in situ, so we can continue the journey."

"Let's hope so. Meanwhile, make sure you aim properly when pissing in the bucket."

***

"An update from Smiler, sir."

"Put him on screen, Regg." The Tinker pulled his robe around him and shuffled onto his sofa. "Smiler, how are we doing with all the arrangements?"

"Tinker," Smiler said, nodding. His face filled a screen.

"I would like to hear of your plans."

"It's complicated. The whole Association will be watching with high security, but I'll get your information. I'll need some more credits for bribing staff and some of the challenger's families."

"More credits? Okay. What else?"

"I'm working on a plan to extract her before the show starts. As a backup, I'm leaning on various people to ensure she gets through the first challenge."

"I'm expecting good things from you, Smiler. I'll leave you to get on with it." The Tinker nodded as Regg cut the screen.

"Still trust him, Regg?"

"Not sure, sir."

"Exactly, Regg, exactly." He steepled his fingers. "Do we need a backup at the studios?"

"Mack's team are engaged in the upcoming weapons trial, but they can be put on standby afterwards, in case we can't get anyone else."

"Thanks, Regg, I'll leave it with you. That Smiler, he should remember his fortune at being taken back on," the Tinker said. "Now, how about something happy, Regg?"

"Our betting businesses are doing well in anticipation of the challenge show. Our factory producing Crispo munchies is employing more staff – the product has become very popular with youngsters. It will also be a good seller with our intox businesses, sir."

"Thanks, Regg. Don't tell Mrs Tinker about any profits – it's shoes now. She's gone off hats, scarves or whatever it was."

***

"Any plans yet, boss?" Bim said.

"We're not going to extract the old woman, Bim ... not just yet. I'll get her through the challenge by using old-fashioned methods. Bit of a risk, but we'll make the Tinker stew for a while. We'll get the information out of the woman before the second challenge. Tinker will pay more credits as the pressure builds up. Getting old is our Tinker ... doesn't like stress in his later years."

Bim's face was a mixture of excitement and bewilderment as he tried to work out Smiler's plans.

Smiler regarded the youth, who remained silent.

"And you, my boy, will not tell a soul. Not even your mother. Do you understand?"

The youth regarded Bim, who smiled back at him.

"Yes, s-sir, Mr Smiler," the youth said, stuttering.

"Right, I have to contact some people. Get on with some work next door or go eat."

"Okay, boss." Bim stood up. He grabbed the youth roughly and yanked him towards the door, the youth's feet hardly touching the floor.

### Chapter 17 – Challenge One Revelry Party

On the evening of the first challenge, Brell wandered around the apartment in a dressing gown, drinking water, as the apartment bot fussed around checking up on the cleaning bots. The apartment door chimed.

"Greetings, Commander, how are your wife and children?" the bot said, hands clasped in front of it.

"Err, they are well," Brune said, uncertainly glancing at Brell as he walked inside.

Brell winked back. "The bot will sort you out whilst I get changed."

"Now, Commander, your room is along here. Would you like a drink? We have a very extensive auto chef menu," the bot said, ushering Brune along the corridor.

After a few minutes, the bot returned to Brell's bedroom.

"Well, what do you think?" Brell said, turning on the spot.

"Underpants?"

"Yes. The tighter ones, like you recommended."

"Keeps your shape well, madam."

The bot recorded a clip of Brell after she got changed and played it on a screen. Watching herself twirling about in her purple jacket and skirt, she thought the subtle lines of the colour-changing cloth emphasised its classiness. Her skirt, subject to much discussion, ended at the knees, in order, as the bot suggested, to show off her legs. Sheer black tights imbued with a delicate blue lace-style pattern matched her skin colour, as did her shoes. Despite her protestations, a hair stylist and make-up bot had visited earlier. Her slicked-back hair shimmered in the light.

"I will check on the commander," the bot said, bustling out into the corridor.

Entering the living room, Brell stopped in her tracks. Brune was turning in a circle in the middle of the floor whilst the bot examined him.

"Commander, you look smart and important."

Brune saw Brell laughing. "The assistant was checking everything," he coughed.

He was wearing his number one dark blue uniform, with yellow shoulder braid, gold buttons, trousers with a black stripe down the side and polished black shoes. A line of medals shone on his chest and a peaked hat peeped out from under his arm.

"Thank you for making the commander so welcome," Brell said.

"It is a pleasure, madam, and, may I say, you look wonderful."

"Thanks. The bot doesn't miss a trick," she said, leaning towards Brune.

"Yes, quite. Um, are we ready to leave?"

"Hold on. Bot, please record all live cam streams from the revelry party and show."

"Yes, madam."

"I thought it may be useful," Brell said, as they made their way out of the apartment.

Once in the limousine taking them to the studio, Brune activated his audio umbrella, fiddling with it more than normal, unable to hide his nerves.

"Have you heard from Scrivvens? The last contact I had was a couple of days ago. He was waiting to be rescued."

"I received a brief message yesterday from him. The craft's main comms went down. His craft was being towed to the nearest Space Corps facility, way off their original course. He won't get here until after midnight at the earliest," Brune said deflated.

"Crap. How about Judiciary Corps?"

"Just received a zap message. There's to be no last-minute subpoena or release for Mayleth."

"Fragging great. The deputy must have been able to influence their decisions? Useless idiot."

Brune stared out at the Elytian cityscape rushing past the window, the bright holographic advertising hoardings blurring with street and shop lights.

"This will probably mean Mayleth being the first to get chopped. Her implant may be our only clue to the Locardum," Brell said, folding her arms.

"I was hoping we could perform a quick scan in her cell, with permission from Prison Corps, but the studios intervened. They know that Mayleth will be good for ratings," Brune said.

"And Mourge is too afraid of the media," Brell said, glancing out of the window. "Nothing we can do about Scrivvens being late. Perhaps we could throw the lights or create a diversion on the sly."

Brune noticed Brell's scowl. "We have to abide by the law."

"I'm not going back to prison. If she dies and Mourge blames me, I'll be off, out of here. I suppose at least her implant information will die with her, so we won't know if it contained valuable information."

"A huge amount is riding on this, but if we miss an opportunity to find the Locardum, how many Corps officers or public will die if we don't try hard enough?"

"I know, I know, you're right. Gorst and his colleagues are vulnerable, I don't need reminding. We're just observers tonight. She should have been sprung out by now, legally of course. It's frustrating for all of us," Brell said.

The vehicle came to a stop.

"We're here," Brune said, turning off the audio umbrella. "Must keep up appearances." He glanced at Brell to gain her acknowledgement.

She nodded as the chauffeur opened the door.

The _Convict Challenge_ revelry party was in full swing as they walked inside the huge hall. It was filled with special guests, celebrities, and hangers-on enjoying the various entertainments on offer before taking their seats to watch the show.

Ten cells built into a sidewall housed the challengers. With a large hard beam "window" looking out onto the partying guests, each cell had a single doorway leading to the challenge arena. People thronged nearby and conversed with the challengers under the guards' watchful eyes. Others gawped, chatted, and sipped from cooled glasses. A display above each cell showed snippets of interviews and biographies, together with the latest betting odds.

On the opposite side of the hall from the cells, a popular bot band with youthful faces performed music from a floating platform as virtual dancers gyrated on a small stage below them.

It felt like a carnival atmosphere, with flashing holo lights, huge viewing screens, streamers, and balloon effects. The main "winner's stage" had eight empty seats waiting for the challengers who won through. A warm-up presenter outlined proceedings for the benefit of the live home audience as the screens behind and above him transmitted an assortment of streamed images. Currently, it showed the two exterminators getting ready in their dressing room, with Xax seemingly trying to select a laser weapon from a wall of guns. The live feed, the one that home viewers would see, displayed some of Brell's recorded snippets interspersed with a countdown clock and clips of the challenger's interviews. Theo, the main presenter, popped up to remind viewers of the rules. "This will be the best show ever," he reminded everyone.

"Let's get a drink," Brell said, raising her voice above the tinkling bot band.

Consisting of waiters, bots, and old-style drink dispensers, the bar offered Inhab-47 drinks, including Williams' intox favourites of Whit beer, Wormwood Green, and Burned Wine. Taking two soft drinks, Brell handed one to Brune. He wouldn't be drinking intox while in dress uniform.

Visiting the Inhab-47 artefact exhibition, she ran her hands over a sleek green vehicle with wheels, the centrepiece of the exhibit. She fondly remembered its speed and handling.

Assorted items on display or protected behind screens were subject to touching, mockery, or philosophical discussion. A multi-jewelled crown was popular, if the queue of people lining up to try it on was anything to go by. Girls in multilayered dresses danced to music emanating from a box-like instrument which a woman squeezed back and forth. Some food and drink samples were on offer, and the red wine, nicknamed Border, was the most popular. Hired people and bots interacted with guests, dressed in various Inhab-47 garb. Metal-encased fighters, gladiators with swords, and females wearing multicoloured rough trousers with T-shirts sat on the floor. Red uniformed soldiers, wearing tall fur hats, stood to attention, faces solemn, as guests took images with them.

Side screens showed a selection of images from the first challenge. She never tired of seeing herself punching Carac in glorious slow motion.

She couldn't take in all the people, a real mixture of Association types, cultures, skin colours, and body shapes. Some women wore holographic "clothing", its material radiating from a necklace. Landscapes, faces, and vegetables displayed around their bodies like wrapped cloth. People receiving the most attention were wearing holo shrouds, which rotated from opaque to transparent.

Brune elbowed Brell lightly as Deputy Mourge followed by his two lackeys wandered nearby in full uniform trying to appear important. His senior rank entitled him to special guest invitations, no doubt.

"Slackers," Brell said.

Brune smiled and raised his eyebrows.

"Keep out of their way. Don't say anything," Brune said.

"Okay, boss." Brell held up a thumb.

At that point, Deezal Pompadour, the dashing captain in _Plundering Pirates_ , the apartment bot's favourite space pirate show, approached Brell to ask for a picture together. With a strong personal scent and a bright orange face, his wet handshake felt underwhelming. As she smiled at Deezal's floating camera, Brell thought it best not to mention this to the apartment bot. It might burst her bubble, especially as he wandered off shoulder to shoulder with an equally coiffured male.

Brell chatted and posed with guests for a while, leaving Brune to network.

Making her way to the bar for a top-up, she felt something brush against her backside. Uncertain, she stopped.

"Hello," a male said, his voice smooth and rich.

He tilted his head and grinned as he stood toe to toe with her. Wearing a smart dress suit with a red polka-dot hanky in the jacket pocket, his presence invaded her personal space, so she took a small step backwards. She noticed lights shining off his bald patch and the edges of his lips had a hint of a smile.

"Hello," she said back.

"Are you involved in this challenge, or have you had enough of it yourself?" His glance darted up and down her body.

She had seen that look before, a projection of confidence, power, and control. "Just little pieces to camera and comments," she said.

"Good, sounds good. We'll all be watching Mayleth over there," the male said, pointing to the cells. "Unlikely she'll survive."

"There are a lot of strong challengers."

"She'll make good viewing, but we wouldn't want anything to happen to her, though, would we?"

"Well, she'll take her chances, like the others."

"I'm sure she will," the male said, gazing across the room. "Must get a bit lonely in the cargo business?" His gaze shot back to her.

"Not really," Brell said, making her replies shorter, feeling increasingly uncomfortable in his presence.

"Well, if you need any company, look me up. I'm sure we'll see each other again."

"I didn't catch your name."

"People call me Smiler." With that, he nodded and walked off.

She rubbed her arm, feeling cold. Who was he? One of many smooth types here, possibly, but with a strong interest in Mayleth? She'd mention it to Brune later.

" _Thirty minutes until show start."_

She wandered over to the cells, wanting to get a last look at Mayleth. A stony-faced guard stood by as Mayleth coughed, played with her hair, and drank water. Attempting to hold a conversation with an interested party, she couldn't be anything but fearful. In fact, as Brell could testify, facing a life or death event does tend to focus the mind, or turn it to mush.

Momentarily lost in thought, she ambled along the line of cells and saw Smiler push his way through a crowd towards one of the weaker men – in Brell's opinion – the weaselly looking Crivon. Unable to get near enough to hear their conversation, she saw Smiler crouching down to stare directly at the prisoner sitting in a hunched position and nodding stiffly.

After glancing at the countdown clock, Brell made a quick visit to the privy before taking her seat. Inside were a bevy of groomed ladies, concerned more with their looks than what was going to happen to the challengers. Before leaving, she straightened her dress and checked her make-up in case the studio asked for a comment on live beam.

" _Fifteen minutes to start."_

It didn't take long to find Brune, who was conversing with a Prison Corps officer.

"Commander," Brell said, sweeping up next to him, "we have an appointment to keep."

"Yes, thank you, Brell," Brune said. He turned back to the officer and shook his hand. "Keep your eyes open. Expect the unexpected."

A waiter bot showed them to their seats, giving them a studio cube each as they sat down. This enabled them to display a mini screen for following individual challengers, in addition to the giant displays above the stage.

Making herself comfortable, Brell was grateful that she was sitting on an end of row seat – there was no need to make small talk with anyone. As Brune shuffled his large backside into the seat next to her, she noticed he was sitting next to Deezal Pompadour.

She examined the other guests. Smiler and his two associates were together in the next section. An unusual trio. A large man on one side and a sweaty youth on the other. Both men pulled at their shirt collars, which appeared as tight-fitting as their dress suits. Smiler sat in the middle staring back at her. A few rows behind was Deputy Mourge, his sour face glaring at her disapprovingly.

As soon as Brune stopped shifting in his chair, Brell elbowed him as she interacted with her personal cube.

Brune's cube flashed briefly.

There is a camera on us at all times to show our reactions and ask for my comments. Must be circumspect. Talk via zaps.

_OK, understand, will put on my best face_ , Brune replied.

A smarmy male to the right, unimaginatively called Smiler. Tell you about him later, and fraghole deputy nearby. We are penned in.

As Brune made no immediate reply, Brell turned her head towards him. He was speaking to Pompadour, nodding his head. Straightening, he looked ahead, his face flushed.

"Okay, Brune?" Brell said, lowering her voice.

Brune leant over. "He told me he likes a man in a uniform."

"My apartment bot will be jealous."

Swallowing hard, Brune waved at a waiter bot and then found something interesting to do with his comms cube.

### Chapter 18 – The Challenge starts

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are live across the Associated Worlds. Elytia Holo Beamcasting Company in association with AssocBetting welcome you back. It's been two years, but it's been worth the wait." Theo stood centre stage, next to Lexi, as the audience clapped and cheered on cue.

Brell noted the wardrobe department had gone into overdrive for Lexi; the thin fabric of her blouse and short skirt glistened in the studio lights.

"There is no subtlety in this show, no puzzles. It's a fight for survival in every round. Tonight, only eight of our ten challengers will go through. Here they are," Lexi said.

A side screen lit up to display a matrix of ten mini screens, each one containing a challenger standing within a small enclosure, like an animal pen.

Using her studio cube, Brell set up three viewing screens. The camera attached to Mayleth's clothing, a floating cam following her and an automatic view on any fixed camera she walked past. Seeing her shaking hands and wobbling legs, Mayleth did not instil confidence.

"You can sense the challenger's excitement. Let's have a look at the battleground arena. Doc, if you please."

A male, aged about sixty years old and wearing a white coat, appeared on the huge live screen. He stood on the ground floor of the arena.

"Based on one of many original Inhab-47 holo recordings taken during the producers visit to the planet, we're using one of their basic shopping centres as our backdrop," Doc said, arms extended as he turned in a circle.

"It has three floors, connected by a fast-moving escalator. Each floor is packed with shops and restaurants set within narrow walkways, like a maze. Exit doors, the doors to freedom, appear on the outer walls, but there are only two of them per floor. Who said we had to make it easy?"

"You may have noticed the challenger's numbered shirts." Doc took up a position by an outside wall. Numbers one up to ten appeared consecutively on the door nearest him. "All they have to do is find an exit door with their number. Easy. However, they only display a number for one minute, before changing to another random challenger's number, and so on."

As Doc walked towards one of the shops, holographic people, both normal and alien, appeared as if on a rehearsed cue. With a variety of skin colours, body shapes and types of clothing, there were representatives from across the galaxy.

"Who are they? Why they're our shoppers. Keep your eyes open. You may spot someone in the crowd who could win you a two-week holiday. Visit our beam site for more details."

Doc addressed the camera directly. "Enjoy the show. Back to you."

"Thanks, Doc. When our eight challengers have exited, we will have a break in proceedings whilst viewers can place bets on the exact time that the two remaining challengers will be eliminated by our exterminators. See our beam sites for further information and details of our betting partner," Lexi said, turning to Theo.

Staring out into the audience, he waited as the music thumped in a steady rhythm.

"It's time for _Convict Challenge_."

***

Watching the guard walk away from her, Mayleth considered that it would be the last person she would have normal contact with. The guard's perfume lingered in the air; it was one of Mayleth's favourites, reminding her of sunny days and long evenings.

Letting out another breath, she peered through the pen bars at the corridor in front of her. An outer wall displayed multicoloured swirls.

They were like soldiers going into battle. Was this the time to make a will, pray, or reconcile yourself to your mistakes in life?

I hope it's quick, was all she could think. Feeling sweat around her midriff, she went to touch her sticky shirt, but as her hand was trembling, she held onto the bars instead.

Boom.

Sure that her heart missed a beat, she tentatively pushed the door open and took a few wobbly steps into the corridor. Screwing up her shoulders, she waited for an attack of some sort, but nothing happened, just holo people strolling along, accompanied by bland background music.

" _And Klak has come straight out of his pen, found Szalma nearby and punched him to the ground. He is stamping on his leg, ohh, it must be broken. What strength. What a start,"_ the commentator's voice boomed.

Hoping the other challengers were killing each other, Mayleth made her way out into a wide circular area with an ornate ceiling. Railings circled the open space, except for two escalator openings leading down to the floor below. An outer ring of shop openings completed the space, punctuated with wider corridors leading to the promised maze of shops.

Peering over the railing, her gaze traced a line down into a large atrium. With two levels below, it confirmed she was on the top floor. Shouts emanated from the ground floor.

Shrinking back, she followed the main walkway, alert for other challengers. Passing the escalator opening on her right, she glanced across to the central area. An outline of a female challenger headed down to a lower floor and a male shape travelled upwards to her level. She disappeared into the shopping area to hide and play for time.

" _The challengers are moving floors. Some up, some down. Klak is running around. Is he more interested in other challengers than finding an exit?"_

Shopping units displayed their trading names above open doorways. Inspired by Inhab-47 and Association shops, Frying Tonight was next door to Xron's Bot Parts whilst Poppy's Propellants was adjacent to Crankie's Deli.

Glancing inside a shop, she saw that the space was empty save for a collection of holo displays of goods with shoppers milling about. She didn't know whether to hide or keep going. Sweating, she continued along to the end of another corridor until she saw the outer wall.

An exit door lay ahead with the number one currently displayed. The rest of the wall displayed random images of fruit. Perhaps she might get lucky.

Fleetingly, she hoped number four would appear, allowing her to skip through the door. Too easy. The technician pressing the buttons would be under orders to ensure challengers stayed in the game to provide audience entertainment. Uncertain if she heard footsteps, she stopped.

Smack.

A blow between her shoulders made her sink to her hands and knees. Before making sense of what was happening, a weight, perhaps a foot, wedged itself into the small of her back, pushing her flat on the floor. Rolling onto her side, she curled herself up into a ball. Through half-closed eyelids, she saw Ugga. His wiry, strong frame stood over her, leering, hands on hips.

He made light work of turning her onto her back. Closing her eyes, she became aware of his breath whistling between his teeth.

His hands grasped and rubbed at her thighs, groin, breasts, then across her face and hair. After the initial shock, Mayleth drew on her experiences of being assaulted in prison. Taking a breath, she stopped trying to move in the hope his exit number came up or an opportunity would present itself.

Fingers glided around her throat, thumbs pressing inwards. The pressure, light at first, gradually increased. Black cloudy thoughts came to her as the ability to breathe became restricted. Panicking, taking short breaths, she felt her eyes bulge as blood pressure thumped in her head.

He loosened his fingers and she spluttered and coughed as his hands mauled at her body again. Squinting her eyes open, she saw that number two was displayed on the exit door. Another minute of this at least. Time to show some fight, perhaps distract him, use up time.

Kicking out, her boot scuffed the side of his leg. He bent down and put a knee onto her shins whilst undoing her belt and forcefully grasping at her trouser fastenings.

Mayleth grasped the trousers, her face a mixture of shock and resignation, but he swatted her hands away. Heaving the trousers down her thighs, Mayleth clung onto her underpants.

Ugga hummed and smiled as Mayleth attempted to punch his face but missed. With one hand gripping her underpants, she pushed at the top of his head with the other, but her attempts at fighting back seemed to make him more aroused.

"Your number is up," she said, trying to make her voice sound strong.

Ugga made another grab for her underwear, at which point Mayleth squeezed her thighs together, still continuing to punch at his head.

In frustration, Ugga pushed an elbow into her chest and reached under her back. With a swift movement, he rolled her over. Now unhindered, he pulled on the underpants, exposing her backside.

With her face pressed into the cold floor, she thrashed her legs about, but his knee in her back prevented any attempt to wriggle herself free. With a hand caressing her bottom, Ugga's breathing became easy, relaxed, as if reliving pleasant memories.

Tensing, Mayleth felt his hand stop, and sensing him bending his head down, she shuddered as he licked her left buttock.

Turning her head slightly, she saw him place a hand towards an exit door. The frame shone brightly in silver-flecked light as surrounding images pulsed yellow. Ugga waved at her and disappeared out of view. Thankfully, his number had appeared.

Relieved at seeing him exit, Mayleth rolled over and sat up. Shakily, with one hand on the wall, the other holding her pants and trousers, she stood up. Having fastened her belt, she considered that at least she was alive and with a hope of finding an exit. That her dignity had been exposed to the whole Association was the least of her worries. Rubbing her arms, she wiped off the feeling of Ugga's sweaty hands.

### Chapter 19 – It's not looking good

Letting out a long breath, Brell realised she was still holding a drinking glass in mid-air. Considering Ugga's previous convictions, the attack was no surprise. But, when he ran his hands over Mayleth's body, it brought back memories, ones she wished to forget.

These "kill shows", like _Convict Challenge_ , had crept in over the last decade. As long as the violence involved prison inmates, it was acceptable to the public. However, nudity and sex scenes still provoked discussion. Adult content was everywhere, even the apartment bot managed to view it, supposedly as part of its job description. Mainstream beam channels, though, still shied away from uncensored material.

Brell was aware of Brune squirming during Mayleth's attack. Some of the fluffy audience, those make-up dollies in the privy, had been reminded that the challengers were sent to prison for a reason. Perhaps it made their deaths more acceptable?

Of all things, she noted, prison-issue underpants were still the same.

_Okay?_ Brune zapped across.

Yes, fine. Mayleth still in it.

Not looking good, though. We just have to sit it out.

Yes. Wonder who is manipulating the door numbers behind the scenes? Perhaps they saved her. Just hope she gets to an exit soon.

"Another drink? Food?" Brune said, aloud.

"Yup, just a non-intox beer. Not hungry. Thanks."

Appearing from the rear of the stage, Ugga took his winner's seat. His smile was one of getting through the first challenge and the enjoyment of running his hands over a real woman.

He was the third to arrive. During all the running, fighting, and Mayleth's little scene, two challengers Huilette and Nesta had made their way to the ground floor, stood next to each other and waited. The operator who worked the door numbers must have gone into overload, as their door numbers appeared one after the other. Not particularly entertaining, it seemed to have taken the producers off guard.

"Where are we at the moment?" Brune asked.

"Three challengers home. Mayleth all over the place. Look what she's doing now."

Mayleth had chosen to position herself inside a shop close to the spot where Ugga attacked her. Every minute or so she craned her head around the doorframe to check the exit number.

A challenger arriving on Mayleth's floor made Brell sit up. When he started walking towards the shops, she elbowed Brune before taking a large glug of beer. It was Pagla.

He padded silently down a shopping corridor. Tall and upright, he walked in an arrogant manner. Overhead screens showed Mayleth looking one way out of the shop whilst Pagla strode lightly from the other direction. Stopping a metre away, his body cam showed the back of Mayleth's head.

Brell tightened. Putting a hand up to her mouth, she spoke under her breath to Brune. "Look round, Mayleth, for frag's sake."

Reaching forward, Pagla grabbed Mayleth's shirt collar, yanking her out into the corridor. Holding the shirt firmly, he punched her twice in the face with his right fist. Her head crunching sideways, Mayleth slumped to the ground. Like all the other challengers, Pagla had nothing to lose. In Brell's view, he was a cold fish, an intelligent man capable of being ruthless and charming in equal measure.

Number nine appeared. Smiling, Pagla stepped over Mayleth and walked towards the door. She was lying still, and blood started to drip from Mayleth's nose as the holo shoppers walked through her.

Glancing at other guests, Brell saw Deputy Mourge's disgruntled face, whereas Smiler was grinning. Though Mayleth was close to losing, his body language exhibited confidence.

He knows something.

"I'm going for a smoke," Brell said over to Brune as Pagla appeared on stage to applause and cheers.

"What happens if they want you to say a few words about the show?"

"Brune, you're a senior officer. Bullshit will come naturally to you."

Pocketing her cubes, she got up, leaving a quizzically faced Brune.

***

"Let's hear from Commander S'Tr-Hert, the law enforcer, who broke the rules on the previous challenge. Your thoughts so far?"

"Well, it makes me think that none of these challengers would be here today, fighting for their life, if they had not committed any crimes. My message to the children watching is, keep out of trouble."

"Thanks, Commander. There you have it, folks. Bet the challengers here wished they'd followed his advice." Theo stepped sideways to point at a scoreboard. "Let's check on the current progress."

Turning away from the screen, Brell grinned at Brune's response and sucked deeply on her smoke tube. The smoker's area was full of other guests smoking from an assortment of tubes, small bubble machines and rolled weed.

"Hey, it's you from the last challenge."

Three youths, faces reddened, smoking, started pointing at her.

She nodded, waving her hand in reply.

"Hey, miss, has anyone told you, you have a fit body? It's good to see people taking care of themselves at your age."

"Thanks," Brell said. Compliments, keep them coming, except the age thing.

Her thoughts stopped upon seeing Smiler's two associates standing not far from her, staring up at the challenge screens. Klak was in another punch-up, this time with Mkalma, a heavy thickset woman who was giving a good account of herself landing blows on a blundering Klak. Just when the balance seemed to be in her favour, Klak steadied himself and landed a crunching blow on top of her head, sending her sprawling to the ground.

At that moment, Smiler's two men shook hands and slapped each other's backs. Either they were enjoying Mkalma's injuries or rejoicing at Klak's triumphant blow. It appeared Klak spent more time hunting down other challengers than finding an exit door. Was the Tinker influencing this again? It only needed two challengers to be put out of action for Mayleth to get through.

If Mayleth was a threat to the Tinker, he would have ordered her death in prison. If he was intent on saving her, there must be some information she had, which could mean her implants. Perhaps he'd realised this only recently. With the heightened security, his options became as limited as Brell's.

She returned their stare. She wanted them to think she might know something, to place some uncertainty within their small brains. Once Klak's door number appeared, the two men sloped off in the direction of their seats.

"Frig you all, frackfucking, brench-sucking corpsters," Klak said before stepping through his exit door. He stuck his tongue out and made an obscene gesture with both hands before disappearing.

"Charming," Brell said.

Discarding the remains of her smoke tube on a worn, streaked tidy bot, she followed Smiler's associates. They fed themselves along the line of seats back to Smiler, who found her gaze and winked. Once in her seat, she leant in towards Brune.

"Good speech."

"Thank you," Brune said, his voice seeming uncertain if she meant it as a compliment or mockery.

Klak arrived on stage struggling and shouting. On being thrust into a secure seat, an audio blocker was initiated to obscure his swearing.

Mkalma roused herself and made it to a door. Battered and bruised, she took a seat next to Klak and folded her arms, stony-faced. Bhoja appeared on stage close behind her. After circumventing Szalma dragging himself along the floor, she darted out from a shop on seeing her door number appear.

"Seven have returned."

Brell turned her attention to her cube and sent a message to Brune.

That smarmy bloke Smiler and his meatheads – something going on. Believe they are protecting Mayleth. Keep your eye on Crivon.

***

" _Seven are safe, only one place remains.. Szalma and Mayleth are injured and Crivon appears lost, again. Who will win?"_ The commentator said.

Brell rubbed the back of her head, having stopped glancing at Deputy Mourge, believing he would be slagging her off. Condescending fragger, he should have grabbed hold of the investigation two years ago rather than chasing after Brune.

At least Mayleth was still alive, but it was always going to be down to the wire. Feeling like another smoke already, Brell knew it would be best to stay in her seat and not show too much emotion.

After Brune's new food order arrived, Brell manipulated her screens to get an overview of events. Crivon was fumbling about in the shopping corridors on level one and appeared to be shopping and examining the holo goods on display.

***

Mayleth was uncertain, but yes, it was her brother Ayleth calling to her.

"Mayleth, sit down, we have an important meeting."

Taking a seat behind a large desk within their old production office, his two virtual assistants standing off to one side. He motioned with his hand for Mayleth to take up her usual place beside him.

"Welcome back, miss," her two favourite female virtual assistants said.

A few steps and she would be taking up her rightful seat again next to her brother. Time was marching on, with many challenges to overcome, beam shows to be produced.

She hesitated.

Her brother smiled invitingly.

"Just a few steps, miss."

Something nagged at her. Challenges to overcome. In slow motion, she saw Brell during the previous challenge show, life on the line, not giving up. The office, and her brother, vanished.

With her face, head, and neck a ball of pain, she swallowed blood, spitting out the remainder. Moving her legs and arms, she managed to get herself up into a sitting position, her hands slipping in blood. The door displayed number eight.

Using a shirtsleeve, she wiped her nose, now a bloody mess, but at least her eyes were clear. As she checked the corridor, she wondered how many challengers were left, having not been concentrating on the commentary. At least there hadn't been any bangs and flashes to herald the end of the first period, but she expected to hear it at any moment.

As if in answer to her question, the commentator announced, _"So it all comes down to the last three. Who will get to the door first? Who will suffer the fate of the exterminators? Don't go anywhere."_

Three left. Having not seen her number come up, she needed to act fast. It wasn't over yet, and it was worth a last burst of energy, to go down fighting at least. Perhaps challengers needed to change floors; it would make sense to ensure tension and fights. Her two "friends" had shown her that. Using the wall to help her faltering steps, she got to the end of the corridor.

Though her head throbbed, she couldn't hear any shouting. Stepping onto the escalator, she looked back and forth trying to spot anyone. It appeared calm and empty.

" _And Mayleth is going down to another level."_

With the first floor layout noticeably the same, she made her way straight to the shopping zone, taking a narrow corridor and following it until an exit door came into view. Leaning against a wall, her legs trembling with the effort of changing floors, she saw when the number four appeared. Shuffling forward, she tripped over a heavy weight.

A hand was grasping her ankle.

Lying on the floor, with an even bloodier face than her own, was Szalma. A line of blood behind him meant he had been crawling towards the exit door for some time. Using his grip on her ankle to pull himself along, he reached towards her other foot. She tried pulling her knee up, but he was gripping her too strongly.

The seconds ticked down before the door number would change.

Without thinking, she threw her weight towards him and kneeled on his forearm, holding her hands out for balance. She pushed down and he screamed in pain and let go. Toppling, she put out her hands to soften the fall, managing to kick back with her feet and crawl away from Szalma's thrusting hand.

The doorway opened, allowing her to crawl through into the hands of a guard and studio assistant, who tried to stay off camera. Booms and crackles sounded behind her in the arena, signalling the conclusion of the first period.

***

Brell wiped her forehead with clammy hands when Mayleth appeared on stage. After being assisted into a security chair, she fainted, overcome with exhaustion, blood still smeared across her face and hands.

"We have our eight winners, and they now have the luxury of watching two of their fellow challengers taking on the exterminators," Lexi said.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are going to have a break. We need to get our breath back," Theo said.

"Don't forget to place your bets on the kill times," Lexi said. "When we return, it'll be time for the exterminators." She held her hands up in the air, her dress riding up.

"Her dress is a bit short," Brune said, putting a hand over his mouth.

"You noticed?" Brell said back.

During the break, many of the seated guests stood up to stretch their legs. Brell noticed the deputy's seat was vacant and Smiler appeared to be hunching over a screen, communicating with someone.

"Brune, we can leave after the exterminators. I don't think it'll take long. I've already given our excuses for the aftershow party. You have an important meeting by the way."

"Do I?"

"No. I don't want to hobnob with those perfumed celebrities and hangers-on. We'll have a nightcap back at the apartment, as you have an early start in the morning."

Brune nodded, unable to stop watching his neighbour Pompadour combing his hair and spraying himself with more flowery scent.

***

All working out well, wouldn't you say? The man working the doors got a bit confused trying not to make it too obvious that he had saved Mayleth on two occasions, stupid woman. He was easy to coerce, thinks the world of his mother. Crivon did as he was told, for the sake of his family. Will need more credits for next little adventure.

The zap arrived on the Tinker's screen.

"He knows a trick or two. Smarmy git," Tinker said, selecting a pipe made of an organic gourd with a large round weed bowl.

"Regg, tell him, well done. Speak soon regarding his extraction plans. More credits will be made available."

He went back to stuffing his pipe.

"Sending now, sir. May I say, his plans are expensive."

"You don't need to remind me, Regg." Tinker knocked his pipe on the side of his chair, restraining his annoyance. "We've got to get to those implants, just in case. I don't care how much it costs."

"Yes, sir," Regg said, going back to his screens.

***

" _They're taking no prisoners. They are the meanest, toughest duo currently on beamcast. Exterminators, are you ready?"_

A screen displayed Xax and Sereen standing together, holding their laser rifles. Both wore black lightweight body armour with no helmet.

"Let's go," Xax said loudly, knocking fists with Sereen.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, it's time to start the clock."_

Brell noted that the audience were eerily quiet. Uninterested in the betting odds, she pocketed her personal cube and sat back to watch the action. Mayleth was safe for now. How they proceeded next was a matter for considered discussion. Especially with the Tinker's interest.

The exterminators entered the ground floor via an invisible studio door. Music played in the background, its thumping beat adding an element of urgency. Brell's expectations of excitement weren't high. Szalma was sitting up against Mayleth's exit door on the first floor, courtesy of the leg breaking by Klak. Crivon, during the break, had wandered up to the top floor and was hiding underneath a table inside a shop.

"Do you think the exterminators had a quick look at the challengers before going in there?" Brell said in a low voice.

"I would," he said.

As if the exterminators had overheard Brell's comment, they split up and made a point of fussily searching the ground floor. No doubt the betting companies wanted them to take their time, as did the producers, trying to wring out every piece of action.

Both exterminators rode up to the first floor. Neither of the challengers bothered to change position.

" _The exterminators are using all their tracking skills, the two challengers could attack at any moment,"_ the commentator said in his best, ramping up the action, voice.

"The commentator is earning his credits tonight," Brell said.

"As are the exterminators. Are they ex Corps?" Brune said.

"Yes, both ex Space Corps. Xax is a boots on the ground type, got involved in various skirmishes then gravitated into freelance security and media work. Sereen is ex Space Corps elite, one of the hard units. She eventually left to become a stunt woman."

Carefully searching through the shopping corridors, as if on a laser weapon training course, both exterminators met up in front of Szalma, who, barely conscious, turned his head from Xax to Sereen.

"Get it over with," he said, slurring his words.

Xax looked at Sereen and, raising their weapons, they fired together into Szalma's chest. It was an instant release for him.

" _One challenger left,"_ the commentator said. _"We'll take a short break. Who guessed the correct time of death? Come right back for more action."_

"There's more going on in a daytime beam drama," Brell said, careful to cover her mouth.

Brune glanced at his chronometer. "I've been watching Crivon. He hasn't moved. It's like he's expecting to be caught."

"I think the Tinker has helped us out tonight," Brell said, rubbing her chin.

Brune nodded.

Brell glanced over at Smiler. Was he enjoying the way the challenge was turning out or just relishing watching deaths?

The audience didn't have to wait long. Xax and Sereen tried their best to make the search of the second floor exciting, but it wasn't. Crivon, though visibly distressed and agitated at his impending doom, just shuffled his limbs under the table. As Xax approached the shop doorway, Crivon got up and ran outside, pushing Xax lightly to one side. He didn't get far as his legs were wobbling from all the crouching. Xax's eyes looked bored as he fired.

_P-zap_.

The bolt struck Crivon square in the back, burned through his heart and came out the other side. He fell flat on his face, dead as he hit the ground.

" _That's it. Stop the clock and check your bets."_

Sereen joined Xax and patted him on the back. They nodded to each other. Job done.

" _The first Convict Challenge is over. Stay with us over the next few days while the challengers recuperate. There will be plenty of interviews, interaction, and comment from the studio here and on our beam sites. And don't forget our fun show next week as we reveal the next arena."_

After the applause died down and the programme went off air, guards ushered the challengers off stage as guests poured out of their seats.

As Brell stood with Brune waiting for their limousine outside, they watched some prima-donna celebrities ordering their assistants around, unhappy with the delay.

"Excuse me, oh, it's you. Did you enjoy the challenge?"

Brell turned to see Smiler ambling towards her. Again, this time standing very close, his attention roved around as he swept strands of hair over his bald patch.

"Yes it all went very well," she said, keeping her voice steady.

"A good result all round," he said, staring at Brell. "Mayleth is a good competitor ... wouldn't like anything to happen to her."

He glanced at Brune, winked, and motioned to his two associates, who followed on behind him.

"A nasty one that. Tinker's man?" Brune said.

"Yes, got to be. They want Mayleth alive as much as us. The game is on, Brune."

### Chapter 20 – What you got?

Brell's robotic apartment assistant controlled the two-seater craft into its careful descent to land on the visitors' parking pad outside Elytia's prime bot recycle centre. Before stepping out of the car, the bot sat still, mindful that the forthcoming test was pass or fail.

Having completed an intense two-day Police Corps streamed instruction course for robots, with weapons and pilot training inputs at a certified training establishment, Brell informed the bot that she had set it her own final examination. Could it witness the destruction of another bot? Failure meant spending the rest of its "life" inside the apartment, whereas a pass involved becoming a Police Corps robotic assistant.

Within its world of unstained, pure programming, the bot enjoyed accessing the stray thoughts and memories of its creator. Though not comprehending many of the memories, such as yearning and frustration, episodes of joy and fulfilment were easier to recognise.

The bot reminded itself of Brell's last words before walking out of the front door.

"Do you want to stay as an assistant bot in this apartment, pissing about with annoying studio celebrities, or see the galaxy?"

Enough introspection. "Let's do it," the bot said aloud.

During its journey, the bot changed its outer skin to give the appearance of "wearing" a black jacket, shirt, tie, and trousers. Its face was a male in his mid-thirties, with cheerful features, complete with a thin moustache. Opening the vehicle's rear boot, the bot examined the body lying inside.

"What you got?" the clerk said, as the bot wheeled the body into the reception area.

"A damaged assistant bot, insurance claim, for destruction," the apartment bot said in a clear, deep male voice.

"Okay," the clerk said, picking up a scanner.

He walked from behind a counter to scan the damaged bot's neck. It lay on top of the trolley in a mangled state, arms and legs pointing in different directions. The face was crushed to a barely recognisable cracked lump of plas-steel.

Scan complete, the clerk grunted as he checked the bot's credentials on his main screens.

"Assistant bot P1014609T, from an apartment owned by Elytia Holo Beamcasting Company. If correct, please present your ID," the clerk said, looking up for the first time.

"Certainly, sir. I am a representative of Elytia Holo Beamcasting, insurance division. Here is my identity, a copy of the insurance coverage, and the authorisation for destruction."

Taking the offered holo papers, the clerk scanned them and hunched over his screens whilst checking the information.

"All good. File marked for destruction. Follow me, please, to complete the insurance requirements."

Grabbing the trolley, the clerk wheeled the mangled bot though automatic doors, and a cacophony of clanking, hammering, and laser drill zaps filled the foyer. Head down, the clerk pushed the trolley into the recycle room.

Robot heads, hands and torso parts lay randomly in bins or alongside power chips stacked neatly on tables. Three female staff were sitting on stools, chatting amongst themselves, as they unpicked small components out of power packs or brain units. Amongst the noise and smell of singed metal, melodic music played in the background.

"Over here." The clerk jerked a thumb.

Scooping up the mangled bot from the trolley, a utility worker placed it onto a long table alongside three other bots whose chests lay open, innards exposed. After a scan to determine the most valuable parts, the worker pulled a fine laser guillotine into position and swiftly removed the bot's head. Fluid leaked out of its severed tubes.

The apartment bot clasped its hands as the chest was levered open; its insides were pulled out and tossed into a large bin.

"All done. The girls will pick over the head for anything useful. It's a bit mangled, but there may be some components for reuse," the worker said.

"Thank you, sir. I do not need to stay here for that process. The bot has been satisfactorily destroyed, as per insurance terms and conditions," the bot said, keeping its voice steady.

Nodding to the worker, the clerk jerked his thumb back towards the entrance door.

Once outside, the bot got into the vehicle, started the engine, and ascended gently into a busy traffic lane.

A message arrived from Brell.

Well done. Could you go to the Paxem Industrial Estate, Lot 3445. Pick up a package for me before heading home.

After inputting the address, the bot chose auto mode for the flight across the capital city whilst admiring the view and its freedom from the apartment. Witnessing a bot's disembowelment in a recycle centre registered in the bot's mind. Though unable to wholly engage with the thought, it sensed the loss of a fellow bot. It wasn't on the same scale, though, as her creator's thoughts when she lost her mother.

Keeping to the outer ring routes to avoid inner city traffic, the bot headed over to a sprawling industrial area. A pall of smoke hung in the air above the manufacturing buildings, many of which had been built in the last century. It examined the lot numbers written in large letters on the roofs. Lot 3445 came into view.

Having made a perfect landing, the bot exited and scrutinised the building's exterior, which had seen better days. A four-storeyed block, there was no sign of any activity, people, or bots coming and going. Its reception area contained an unmanned desk with a half-opened door to one side. Otherwise, it was empty. Glancing around, the bot weighed up its options and walked through the open doorway.

"Hello, hello," the bot said, still using the male voice, before taking a step inside.

"I would stand right there, mister," a gruff voice said from inside the room. "I have a pistol pointing at you."

The bot stood still.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I am here to collect a package for my owner, Brell Sturlach."

"No packages here. You made that up so you can steal from this place."

After a wheeze of breath and a shuffle of feet, a light went on to reveal a conference room. Appearing unused, the room was bare apart from a large table pushed against a wall and chairs strewn along the sides. A single door was set in the far wall.

"So what do we have here? A dressed-up burglar?"

"No, sir. Do you have the package?" the bot said again.

Dressed in a security guard's uniform, the male tipped his hat onto the back of his head. Standing a metre away, he pointed a pistol at the bot's chest.

"Mickey, join me in the conference room. We got us a burglar," the security guard said, placing a finger underneath his ear. "Mickey's on his way, you won't like him." The guard fired a warning shot into the door. Then another one into the floor next to the bot's feet.

Picking up a chair, he walked forward, glancing up at the ceiling. He set the chair down on top of a dark carpet stain.

He motioned with his pistol. "Sit here."

The bot duly sat down.

"Ho ho, what have we here, Alvin?" the second security guard said as he walked into the room.

"A stray who's come into our world, Mickey."

"A stray who needs to be taught a lesson, I think, Alvin. What are you doing here?"

"If the package is not here, I should leave, sir."

Mickey strode up and slapped the bot on the back of its head repeatedly whilst saying, "You're not going anywhere, metalhead. What are you doing here?" He produced a small laser pistol and thrust it into the bot's face. "Melted brains, deactivation, poof."

"Yeah, back to the salvage dump."

"Not before we break you down for parts, eh, Alvin? By the way, it's one of them fancy bots that can change skin. All show but no knickers."

Thinking it best to remain silent, the bot recalled the Police Corps training manual whilst processing threat levels, resources, and potential strategies.

"You know, botface, this area is Paxheim, not Paxem. You're in the wrong place. It's okay, because when people or bots do stray in here by mistake, they don't walk back out," Alvin said.

"Reported missing usually. Corps sometimes come sniffing in here. What, this place, officer? Deserted, waiting for a new owner, officer. No one else here, officer. See, just us two, looking after this dump," Mickey said mockingly in a fake accent.

"Now a bot has come into our world, shining a light into our gloom. A distraction from our boring patrol, eh, Mickey?"

"Where shall we start, Alvin – take the feet off first?" Mickey said, rubbing his chin.

After standing up slowly, the bot quickly ran towards the door.

_P-zap, p-zap_.

Mickey fired at the bot's leg, the laser burning through the back of its calf. Stumbling, Mickey punched the bot in the back of its head, sending it to the floor.

"Too fast for you, even at my age. Now, back to the chair. What we do is scan your body, see the parts inside, and decide which ones will get us the most credits. Then we pluck them out."

"One at a time."

They watched the bot as it sat down. "I see it now. It's a female form, dressed as a male."

"Interesting, but not that surprising. Let's get on with the scan, deactivate any tracking devices."

The bot bowed its head momentarily and then sat upright in the body of a twenty-year-old blonde female wearing a tight pink dress. It smiled at the guards.

"Can I help you, boys?" the bot said in a silky-smooth voice.

"Sorry, bot, makes no difference to us." Mickey motioned his hand. "Get the rope."

Alvin hummed loudly as he walked to the edge of the room to unfasten a rope tied to an upturned table leg. He proceeded to slacken the rope through a hook in the ceiling above the chair.

Walking behind the bot, Mickey pressed a hand down on its shoulder. Reaching up with a quick movement, he placed a rope noose around the bot's neck. "Up she goes."

As the rope tightened, the bot had no option but to stand on the floor on tiptoes with its head lolling to one side. After pulling away the chair, the two men inspected the bot, which put a hand up to its neck.

"Yes, it's tight, you can't escape. Who owns you?"

"My owner is a bot recycle plant. I assist people when they have to send their personal bots for reclamation," the bot said in a female accent. "My identity changes help clients when they have to part with their bots."

Mickey ignored the bot's reply. "Rope too tight?"

Alvin exited briefly through the internal door and returned with a wheeled table. After passing his hands over various tools, he selected a small laser cutter, which he activated and waved at the bot's head.

"Bit by bit, until only your reaction chips are left." Moving the tool towards the bot's stomach area, he created a round blackened burn mark. "All the way inside."

"Who's your owner?"

"As I said, the bot recycle plant. You can contact them," the bot said, changing its appearance to one of a male youth.

"Nice try. Doesn't work with us. We don't care how old they are," Mickey said, placing plas-steel bands around the bot's wrists.

At this point the bot started a stream of thought which ended in doubt, a doubt which her creator had experienced before, when meeting a man on a blind date. After the man had turned nasty, he'd imprisoned her in a bedroom. In fear of being seriously harmed or killed, she'd fought her way out. There was uncertainty, a dread that she may not survive. The bot accessed the part when her creator decided to fight for survival.

The bot also reviewed memories of _Plundering Pirates_ at the same time, as a memory of something Brell had said.

" _Oh, a clever bot with programming. Well, react then, without fear of being broken up."_

Brell had dared the bot to be "less robotic", less reliant on programming, to shift.

"I have information. Valuables inside a customer's safe. Lot of credits, more than I am worth," the bot said, changing its appearance into the normal female apartment bot with its business suit.

The guards exchanged glances.

"Keep going."

"Not far from here. On Brinstock Boulevard, wealthy. A recent job involved their assistant bot, as it was getting old, losing its memory. Unknown to the owner, it wrote the building and safe codes in its inside jacket pocket. I noticed it when we stripped it before salvage. I can take you there." The bot paused. "I have a vehicle outside. It would take us ten minutes."

"Worth a try," Mickey said, "but no funny business." He lowered the rope.

Alvin paced slowly behind the bot as Mickey undid the hand restraints.

Jerking its elbow backwards into Alvin's chest, the bot grabbed his pistol, brought its arm up sharply to hit him under the chin. Staggering back awkwardly, he clutched at his jaw.

P-zap.

As Mickey reached down to his holster, the bot fired a warning shot.

"Don't touch that weapon, mister."

P-zap.

Another shot, and this time the edge of his shoes burned, exposing toes. He put his hands up and waggled his foot.

Lifting the rope off its neck, the bot walked sideways, keeping the pistol levelled at both men. "Now, if you would allow me, gentlemen, I'm leaving. It has been a pleasure."

The ceiling lights flickered.

"Okay, thank you, stop there." Brell's voice boomed out inside the room.

Standing still, the bot assessed the change of circumstance and considered whether this was a holographic trick or reality.

The side door opened to reveal Brell, smiling. "It's okay, put your pistol down. It was all staged."

Both men relaxed, their expressions changing to relief and laughter. They slapped each other's shoulders and shook hands with Brell.

The bot duly lowered the weapon. Brell took possession of the laser and patted the bot on its arm.

"Well done. The parcel message was all part of the set-up needed to give you a test you weren't expecting. I won't do it again," Brell said.

"Yes, madam. I understand. Real-world thinking," the bot said, its voice more relaxed.

"This bot is good. Thinks quickly, no-nonsense. And it scorched my shoes, phew, it was close. Good story, one that a couple of real meatheads would have fallen for."

"Packs a punch though," Alvin said, rubbing his chin, laughing.

"Gents, thanks very much. I owe you a beer at the very least," Brell said.

"Brell, it was nice to do something useful, for a change. Us old guys don't get out as much. A pleasure to see you."

They waved as they left the room.

"Questions?" Brell said.

"Those men?"

"My old Police Corps tutors. Retired, heading towards their dotage. They jumped at the chance of helping me out. We rented this place for the day," Brell said.

"The salvage factory was interesting, but it had to be faced. As for the kidnap scenario, there was a similar one on _Plundering Pirates_. She took all her clothes off at the end to distract the men, madam."

"I'll remember that for the future. There's no official welcome ceremony; you are an official assistant with Police Corps clearance. I have a recorded message from our commander," Brell said, pressing a button on her wrist console.

Brune's face was displayed on a wall. "Congratulations, you will be an important asset for our current work. Your programming will be upgraded soon to increase your abilities. Remember to perform your duty in a loyal, professional way. Welcome to the Corps."

The bot stood to attention throughout Brune's speech.

"He kept it short and sweet. One thing is that, along with other Police Corps bots, you'll be fitted with an identification and security implant, in case you go rogue. A scan, though, will show it as a basic owner's tag," Brell said.

"Yes, madam."

"It's time you had a name. I have chosen one for you which suits your creator's personality." She paused. "Lottie. How does that sound? Call me Brell, not madam, from now on."

"Thank you, madam. Lottie is a nice name."

"Right, Lottie, first off, I would recommend you send your first official Police Corps memo to Scrivvens for infusing a salvage bot with your identity, informing the studio about your 'fatal' accident and creating the documentation. Also, we need to patch you up. You already have battle scars."

"Yes, madam ... Brell ... madam ... how exciting."

"Right, let's grab the equipment from the control room next door and get back to the apartment."

"Yes, Brell," Lottie said, unable to stop smiling.

### Chapter 21 – More plans

The Tinker's meeting room at his restaurant crackled with tension as he traded thoughts with Smiler. Regg stood silently to the side of Tinker's settee, referring to his screens.

"Backup?" the Tinker said, not breaking eye contact.

"Will work perfectly, Tinker. Paid off the right people, security loophole. Guaranteed," Smiler said, slowing his voice, relishing that he would be responsible for seeing the job through, not the Tinker.

"I hope it does, Smiler. We go back a long way. You've served your suspension, washing dishes, working in a drug factory, back on a street team or whatever it was. I remind you, this is your chance to redeem yourself."

"Yes indeed. I will not let you down, but it will cost a few more credits."

"Quite so, quite so. Well, we've talked it through and the plan seems good. I'm not expecting to be let down."

"Yes, Tinker. Warm up your ore transporter. Get it ready to pick up the Locardum."

Tinker remained silent – a signal the meeting was over. As soon as Smiler left, Tinker picked fluff off his trouser leg.

"Low-level fragger. I'll put him out to pasture after he brings us the information. Should have left him where he was." He rubbed his stomach and belched. "Now, Regg, get me the technicians and Mack. Let's check on our upcoming event."

***

Smiler swept through Tinker's restaurant, pushing a waiter bot aside as he reached the door. After a few steps out into the rain, he got into a waiting glide craft.

"Where to, boss?" Bim said.

"Back to the hotel."

"Okay. Are we still on the job, boss?"

"Yes, Bim," Smiler said, watching the streets and rooftops of Elytia Old Town out of the window whilst considering his options for getting back at the Tinker.

***

Brell and Scrivvens sipped at their bean brews during a pause in their conversation. They had finally bottomed out their extraction plan for getting Mayleth out of her cell.

After a quick break Scrivvens settled down to provide Lottie with her enhancements, starting by plugging her into a preloaded cube.

"Lottie, your pain, reaction and pleasure sensors have been increased manyfold. It will take a while to adjust."

"Yes, Inspector, thank you," Lottie said as she ambled around touching and admiring various objects.

"Once upgraded, they never want their extra senses taken away. She'll be like a spaced-out druggie for a while," Scrivvens said. Noticing Brell staring at him, he added, "Sorry, Brell, didn't explain it well."

"It's okay, I know what you mean."

Once Lottie came off her floaty cloud, they gave her various tasks in which she utilised her new abilities to access Police Corps' systems.

"So it just needs me to be at the location at the correct time to let you in the corridor? About two hours before the second challenge starts?" Brell said.

"Yes, I can do the rest from there with Delta, in order to visit Mayleth," Scrivvens said. "Lottie can stay here at the apartment acting as communications liaison in case of any difficulties."

"Good. Right, let's finish for now. We can go over it again in the morning and update Brune. Lottie, perhaps tomorrow afternoon we'll go for a walk outside, try out your new senses and buy real clothes," Brell said.

"Also, Lottie, I can get Delta to contact you and give you some tips about using your upgraded settings," Scrivvens said.

"I would look forward to that. Thank you," Lottie said, stroking one of Brell's silk scarves.

### Chapter 22 – Obliterator

A few days after meeting Smiler, the Tinker, wearing his favourite purple dressing gown, puffed on a pipe as he pulled on a lever attached to a chunky metal games machine. Three lines of symbols rotated and stopped. Operating the machine once more, the Tinker waited for the familiar ticks to cease.

"Last one," he said.

This time the symbols matched, dispensing a handful of round metallic discs into a dish below.

"I won, how about that."

He patted the one-armed bandit machine "obtained" from the Inhab-47 props used in the first _Convict Challenge_.

Waddling back to a large chair, he settled himself, wriggled his toes, and said, "Regg, are we ready?"

Head down, Regg scanned his screens, fingers moving and shifting the contents. He glanced up at Tinker's screens to confirm the correct images were on view.

"Ready, sir."

Lighting his pipe, the Tinker puffed a few times in contemplation of the briefings he was due to give to Mack's team and the Sunshine Sisters. Most of his screen wall showed views of a large town by the sea on planet Dorab. Founded on its fishing industry, which still thrived, it had become a popular tourist resort a day and a half's journey from Elytia. With narrow lanes, shops, cafés, fresh sea air and climate, its laid-back nature appealed to artists, artisans, philosophers, and fun seekers.

To the bemusement of the local fishing folk, bot-run hotels, high-end drinking bars, and pleasure palaces grew up in the old town quarter. After buying several cottages, Tinker's people knocked them together and built a roof studio for artists. The floors below, however, including its basement complex, focussed on more traditional Tinker activities: drugs, illegal fighting games, and a bordello with multicultural pleasure bots. Police Corps numbers grew to meet the demands of a burgeoning tourist trade and its related crime issues.

All was gravy for Tinker until the arrival a few months earlier of Captain Gorst Ritsma, a laser team commander. Raids and a clampdown on illegal activity with his teams caused expensive security considerations. Invisi-drones and security teams were employed to check on Police Corps movements.

Captain Ritsma happened to be the male partner of the blue woman, Brell Sturlach, who had stopped Carac from revealing the location of his Locardum stash. Time for payback.

"On live, sir."

"Hello Mack and team." The Tinker spoke slower to make himself appear more imposing.

"The wharf building you are standing in will become a famous landmark one day. Today is the day that a new weapon will be unleashed on the streets for the first time. You will be helping to set a trap for Police Corps, to draw them in, and then we will watch in awe." Tinker waved at Regg.

A rear office door disengaged to reveal two men. The first wore thick brown coveralls imbued with armoured plates. His safety helmet had its visor raised, showing his sweaty face. He held a modified laser rifle complete with bulky attachments, such as extra cooling coils, and increased resonators channelling the power into a wide nozzle. A hard woven fabricated tube bolted onto the rear of the stock curled around and into a large backpack. Clearly, due to the way he walked, the rifleman found the equipment heavy and cumbersome. The second man wore a white laboratory coat, which could not disguise his rotund figure.

"This weapon, nicknamed 'Obliterator', has been secretly developed using a batch of Locardum. Yes, the same ore you have been searching for. Using a unique process, our lab has learnt how to miniaturise weapon components. It will be very interesting." Tinker paused.

Katey wiped her face and fidgeted with a pocket.

"Mack, I'm sending through some information to brief the team. I suggest everyone gets to know our new friend." the Tinker said.

"Yes, boss," Mack said, eyes suspiciously considering the weapon.

"Also, Mack, I would like to talk to you in private regarding your evacuation plans."

"Yes, boss," Mack said, walking away from the others.

"Link off, Regg." Tinker puffed on his pipe, continuing to watch Mack's team inspect the new weapon and talk to the two weapon specialists.

"Well, Regg?"

"Her eyes twitched, then her shoulders slumped and she fiddled with a pocket."

"Thought so, play that bit again."

Tinker studied Katey. There was no doubt about it. When the Locardum was mentioned, she couldn't hide her look of disappointment and uncertainty.

"Regg, contact the Sunshine Sisters. By the way, should I invite them to our annual Augustine ball again?" Tinker turned to observe Regg.

Regg raised his face from his screens. "Sir, me and Craig met them once ... never again." He went back to his screens.

Tinker laughed. "Yes, they give me the creeps, but they are effective. Regards to Craig, by the way. Send him something from me, will you? Your long hours and all that."

"Thank you, sir. Live link ready, sir."

"Ladies, Mimi, and Limi, how lovely you look. Do you have everything?" The Tinker spoke in his pleasant, smooth voice.

"Ready, Tinkler," Mimi said, standing behind a long table in a darkened room.

Limi nodded and patted the lid of a wooden box.

"Thank you, ladies. Your subject will be with you soon." The Tinker waited for the link to end. "Regg. How are we doing at the compound?"

Mrs Tinker sat on a terrace overlooking the gardens. She was with friends, and she talked and gossiped whilst bossing around a shopping bot covered in lengths of material.

"It's neck scarves, Regg. Especially holographic ones which change colour and image, apparently."

"Really, sir? Interesting."

"Good. Right, now, let's have a quick chat with Mack and then we'll give the start order." Tinker glanced across the screens which Regg had rearranged.

Regg, using the lightest of touches, pressed an encrypted comms button.

***

"So, remember, do not stand in front of the Obliterator, people. It will obliterate you." The rotund scientist repeated himself again in his high voice whilst wiping the sweat from his forehead. His white lab coat strained when he took a breath.

"Ready signal received," Mack said, waving Mote, Techie, and Katey over to him.

Situated between a service road and the sea, the wharf building, one of many along the dockside, consisted of a large interior space fifty metres wide. Fish, food, and materials were unloaded from boats berthed alongside. However, usage of the buildings had dwindled due to a recently built harbour complex. When required, stored goods were loaded onto vehicle transporters parked on the outside roadway. Being a Tinker-owned property, the building stored illegal drugs, contraband, and weapons. It smelled of sea air, rotten vegetables, rubber, fish, and oil.

Once out of earshot of the two men, Mack said, "The main thing is that we give covering fire so that our Obliterator rifleman can fire the weapon unhindered. Keep your facial scramblers on throughout." He tapped a small device below his throat.

"Make sure you don't stand in front of it," Mote said, mimicking the scientist's voice.

"I have no idea what the weapon will do. Once it's over and everyone's back here, we're going for a sea escape. There will be a boat waiting for us out back."

"Boat? Not good with boats – hope the stabilisers are good," Techie said.

"Right, let's go," Mack said, ignoring him.

Still reeling from the casual way in which the Tinker had mentioned Locardum, Katey silently followed Mack over to the doors, which opened onto the service road.

Mack motioned to Techie.

Tossing up a drone, Techie flew it out of a roof skylight as the others stood behind him and examined his screens. In the panoramic downward view, a sea wall lay at one end of the service road and across the road a rock wall inclined steadily upwards to forms cliffs above the sea wall. With the service road being a dead end with the same entry and exit point, the Tinker knew how to pick a secure building.

"Ready?" Mack said waving towards the Obliterator rifleman, who raised a gloved hand as the scientist gave a limp wave.

Bringing up a screen with two buttons displayed, Mack pressed the one marked "Explosions". Sounds of laser fire and small explosions emanated from Wharf Eighteen, several buildings along, next to the jetty. Next, he pressed "Multi Calls". A series of urgent messages were zapped off to the Police Corps communication centre. Operators would be inundated with calls from anonymous people regarding the noises.

"It's a preprogrammed bot thingy," Mack said before being asked. "Draws in the Corps. Get ready."

Gripping their rifles, the team checked their equipment and waited.

"Got visual. Police Corps on the way. Two transporters," Techie said, on seeing the vehicles entering a main thoroughfare leading to their location.

Sirens came into earshot.

"Some bystanders have come out to look," Techie said.

"Nothing we can do," Mack said.

"They're here ... wait one. Just driven past us. Outside the noisy wharf building ... officers still inside the vans." Techie glanced at his screens. "They've sent a drone up, hovering it over the building."

Nodding, Mack hit the door button and waited for it to silently slide open. Craning his neck, he saw the Police Corps vans approximately one hundred metres to his right. To his left, the connecting road was empty save for a few spectators. He raised a thumb to Techie.

After Techie invisibly marked two points on the road surface with a laser spotter, Mack rolled out two devices. Upon reaching their marked positions, a pole unfolded, extended into the air, and produced a one-metre-high hard beam wall. Spanning between each pole, it would stop vehicles getting in or out.

Mack's team waited for the rifleman to clank his way through the doorway out into the open, then they followed at a discreet distance in an alert stance. Meanwhile, the scientist strolled behind, monitoring three screens emanating from a wrist device.

Remaining in position, the Police Corps officers considered their tactical options as the laser bolt sounds from Wharf Eighteen ceased.

"Mote, keep your eye on our rear and the road block, in case of Corps backup arriving. Katey, stay with me."

"Everything okay?" she said, her voice sounding uncertain.

"Yes. Different type of job, that's all. Some slimy scientist type calling the shots."

Katey gave a brief nod.

In reaction to the sight of armed people heading their way, four officers exited one of the vans and lined up, weapons at the ready. At the same time, the surrounding area became devoid of any spectators.

"This is a Police Corps controlled zone. Stay back from the area," a robotic voice announced repeatedly.

Stopping approximately fifty metres from the nearest Corps transporter, the rifleman flipped down his visor.The four officers spread out, waiting for an order to fire.

Putting out a hand, Mack halted his colleagues.

"This is a Police Corps controlled zone. Stay back from the area."

Planting his feet wide, the rifleman adjusted his shoulders, raised the weapon, and squeezed the trigger. A zap and a boom were followed by a loud whoomp sound as the recoil jerked him back two steps.

A torrent of laser energy erupted from the nozzle and seared towards the officers. Vaporised, the officers disappeared into flecks of body matter shimmering within scorched air. Part of the blast hit the rear of the van, causing it to become a mangled mess.

It was as if a powerful beast had been unleashed. No one moved, until the officers, sitting in the front rows of the obliterated transporter, stumbled out onto the road in confusion.

After walking forward a few more paces, the rifleman fired again.

Energy crackled into the remainder of the vehicle, consuming the bewildered officers. Only a small part of an engine block remained.

As if in panic, the remaining transporter drove back and forth to try and turn and escape. Driving over what remained of their colleagues, there was no choice but to travel past the rifleman.

Stepping back towards the buildings in case the Corps driver felt like driving over him, the rifleman readied himself for another blast. Without needing to give a signal, Mack's team sprinted to a safer position.

_Zap, boom, whoomp_.

An energy bolt slammed into the fleeing vehicle. A scraggy twisted metal hole appeared in the vehicle's side, accompanied by a ripping, convulsing sound.The van tilted off the ground, keeled over onto its side, and slid into Mack's hard holo wall.

Managing to extract themselves from the wreckage, some officers regrouped on the far side of the wreck.

"Fire at the sides," Mack said. "Pin them down."

They let loose with laser shots which pinged and zipped off the edges of the van. Glancing back, Mack saw the rifleman standing behind a heavy waste disposal unit, whilst the scientist fidgeted with his backpack.

Mack felt a shot ping near his head.

"Back," he said, "behind the trash bins, but keep firing back, the rifleman is being fixed."

Able to fire through holes in the van's wreckage, the Corps officers grew in confidence as a grenade sailed wide of Techie. A sleek Police Corps vehicle glided up to the other side of the barrier. _Senior Officer_ was printed on its side. Reinforcements and an incident commander had arrived.

Gasping in pain, Mote clutched his neck. Keenly studying the area, Mack noticed the twinkle of a laser sniper rifle near the newly arrived vehicle. Deadly, in the right hands.

"Sniper by the Corps vehicle on the other side of the wall. Katey, keep them occupied. Mote?"

"Just a scrape – be okay," Mote said through gritted teeth, raising his weapon.

"Scientist?" Mack said, raising his voice above the zaps and whooshes pinging off the ground.

"Yes, ready," he said, his high voice sounding shrill.

As he clunked out into the open, low-level laser bolts bounced off the rifleman's armoured clothing.

_Zap, boom, whoomp_.

A bolt hit the wrecked transporter, only barely damaging the metal and plastic exterior of the vehicle. It was obvious the Obliterator had lost power.

Standing firm, the rifleman made a motion with his hand and clenched the rifle, but nothing happened. Shaking the weapon made no difference. Stopping, he grasped at his neck, seeming to be in some distress and sank to his knees. Falling flat on his front, he stopped moving.

"Back to the building," Mack shouted, and he motioned with his hands after the rifleman collapsed. Not caring about the scientist for the moment, he was surprised to see him fumbling with an object and attaching it to the rifleman's backpack. His face sweaty and red with exertion, the scientist ran to safety.

Mack needed no telling.

"Going to blow."

Feeling the heat of a laser bolt narrowly missing his face, Mack saw Katey throw all her remaining grenades whilst shooting towards the laser sniper. Falling back, Katey continued with covering fire until she got to safety.

The scientists device exploded.

A tumult of flames wrenched through the air, blasting into the buildings side and up over the roof, making the building shake. Wailing sirens could be heard in the distance as the sound of the blast receded.

The scientist was already seated on the escape boat as the others scrambled aboard. A pilot bot swung the craft out to sea, heading towards its programmed destination, lightly skimming the water. Soon it became just one boat amongst other holidaymakers, buzzing around the harbour.

"Had to blow it up ... no traces ... can't fall into the wrong hands," the scientist said, his face ashen.

"Well, it's a hell of a thing," Techie said. "With that working properly, we could be invincible."

Watching Katey checking her rifle, Mack considered that she appeared withdrawn, deep in thought.

He patted her arm. "Okay?"

"Yes, fine. That weapon is a hell of a thing," she said, making a brief smile.

Rubbing his face, Mack looked across the water into the distance.

The boat navigated through picturesque waterways that zigzagged through the town, and then slowed as a jetty came into sight.

The pilot pulled a lever. "All stop."

"Got an errand to run," Mack said. "Katey, I need you and Mote for this one. Not dangerous, be back in a moment. Little job for Tinker. Needs a woman's touch."

After walking along a narrow alleyway, they reached a secluded entranceway to an old building.

"Inside here," Mack said, reaching into his pocket.

He coughed, stepped back, and raised his hand. An incapacitant mist sprayed into the side of Katey's face.

"Hold her," he said to Mote.

Turning his head to one side to breathe fresh air, Mack grabbed Katey's jacket to soften her fall, laying her on the ground.

"Don't ask," he said, glancing at Mote. "I'll tell you later. Help me pick her up. It's in here, in the basement."

Manoeuvring themselves into the room, Mack and Mote lifted Katey onto a long wooden table, rolling her onto her back.

"Turn her over."

The voice belonged to a woman standing in the corner with her arms folded.

As they pushed and pulled Katey's body, her forehead knocked against the hard surface.

"Search, please."

After running their hands over her clothing, they put items into Katey's shoulder bag, which Mack picked up.

"Yes, everything taken off her," Mack said.

"Good boys. Now run along. Shut the door behind you."

Seeing the two men glance uncertainly around the room, she flicked a hand, indicating for them to leave. Before exiting, Mack looked back at Katey, a woman with guts who had got the team back safely, now unconscious, vulnerable, and presumably awaiting a slow death.

Mote grabbed Mack's arm lightly, motioning for him to leave.

### Chapter 23 – She awake

"How long she out for?" Mimi said towards a floating camera.

"Five minutes," Tinker said via his live connection.

Mimi turned Katey's cheek to one side, brushed her hair away from her eyes, and placed her arms alongside her body, palms up. Removing her boots and socks, she clean beamed the soles of her exposed feet.

"Clean now."

Using a wide sticky fabric, she stuck an end under the table edge and pulled it firmly over Katey's legs, fastening it across her body to the other side. Repeating this action several times, she finished by securing Katey's head, leaving her eyes, nose and mouth uncovered.

"She ready," Mimi said.

Limi opened a wooden box and took out two instruments. The first, a square receiver, was placed on the table next to Katey's leg. After connecting it to a thin strap looped around Katey's calf, she activated a screen and twiddled with the settings. After pressing "scan", an outline of Katey's nervous system and injury scars appeared.

The second instrument contained a long needle.

***

A while later Katey woke, the cool spray a shock on her face. With her stomach lurching, ready to vomit, she breathed easily, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Because of the warm room temperature and the smell of the antiseptic spray, Katey believed she was lying on a surgeon's table.

As she was unable to move her head, she could only look in one direction. Beyond the table edge, hand shackles were fixed to a wall with chains hanging off them. Not a hospital, then. She strained her eyesight in the dim light and made out the shape of a person sitting by the wall dressed in black.

"She awake," a female voice said, the accent difficult to place.

A face appeared, looking down at an angle. With half-closed eyelids, the pale woman's face showed no emotion until her thin lips turned up.

"Yes, she awake. Start now. She ready."

The woman disappeared from view behind a waft of cheap perfume.

Katey flexed her muscles from her ankles up to her neck. She was well and truly trussed up, but at least she was still wearing her clothes. She couldn't feel any weapons or equipment digging into her; she must have been searched. With sticky fabric stretching the skin of her hands, she could barely wiggle her fingers.

Feelings of dread took hold. Normally, in Mack's world, a victim tied to a chair would be threatened verbally and physically. This was entirely different. She swallowed, with difficulty, and tried to steady her breathing. Sweat trickled into her eyes, which she blinked away, unable to rub the remaining itch.

What did this pale woman want?

She realised that her feet were exposed, dangling over the end of the table, the edge cutting into the crease of her ankles. She sensed a slight movement of air across her toes, before a hand pushed down on her heels.

Katey gasped.

"Hee hee, Limi not started yet."

A sharp object dug into the sole of her left foot, and it was followed by an overwhelming urge to pee. Her inner muscles contracted uncomfortably.

The feeling stopped – had she peed herself? Whilst she thought about it, the needle pressed into her right foot.

Her nipples stiffened. Though enjoyable at first, the hardness became painful. As the throbbing subsided, she wondered which body part was next. It didn't take long to find out.

"Aagh."

The crease of her buttocks became warm. It was like someone turning up a volume control from low to intense discomfort. As the ache lessened, she tried to steady herself, but the sensation from another pinprick made her mind whirl.

Sensual warmth encompassed her genitalia. Flowing with bliss, she enjoyed the sensation for as long as possible. Then small bolts of discomfort appeared within the pleasure, multiplying itself into a throbbing agony. Her shoulders went into a seizure as she squeezed her eyelids shut.

"She enjoy that one. Hee hee."

Still pulsating from the first interaction, her nipples hardened again.

With her anti-sweat tabs wearing off, Katey, drenched in sweat, could feel it pooling and squelching under her stomach.

The face appeared. "She always like to play with men and women before starting, yeh. Warm-up, she call it." Mimi stroked Katey's head.

"No worry, we start now. Limi good, she grand master of Yinlin, places on sole of foot. They linked to body part, yeh."

"What ... what do you want?" Katey said, having difficulty getting the words out. Her mind was foggy. A brief memory came to her of walking with Mack ... then waking up here.

"Tinkler want answer."

Hands pushed at her heels and a needle found its place.

Katey's supposedly healed thigh injury, picked up from the silo raid, exploded with pain. Nerves within the micro fibres of the muscle vibrated.

Overpowering agony thumped into Katey's brain before rippling down to her toes. She groaned, screwing up her face and hoping to pass out. Sensations dimmed momentarily, but her brain activity remained on fire.

"Where Locardim?"

Katey opened her mouth, lips twitching, throat dry. "Water."

"She say water? Water? Where Locardim?" the voice said, more firmly this time.

"I don't know."

Pinprick. This time the skin under her thumbnails became white hot. Tensing her body involuntarily, white and black fuzzy lights appeared in front of her eyes.

"Where Locardim?"

Somewhere far off, a hand patted her face and then pinched her cheek.

"She all sweaty. Leave for moment."

Squinting, Katey saw a shape by the wall, unmoving. Was that a previous "victim"? Something was being asked, but what was the question? With no further stimulation, maybe they would let her sleep for a while. If it is the end, then it would be most welcome. Regrets? No marriage, no special wedding night – she almost laughed. Momma will be on her own, the farm, no credits, no Locardum. Failure. To die here, strapped to a table at the hands of a stranger.

Spray hit her face. She breathed in the droplets and felt her throat burn. Burning sensations lingered inside her body.

"Where Locardim?"

Water was poured over her lips, which she gulped at like a fish.

"Where Locardim?"

"On a Non-Assoc," Katey said, her voice croaking. "On a Non-Assoc."

Water was poured over her face again.

"Which Non-Assoc?" the Tinker's voice boomed out.

"Tinker?"

"Yes, Tinker. Did you think you could fool me? Now, before I ask my ladies to continue, which planet?"

"Settled on three. Was going to search for it." She took a breath. "We can split the proceeds."

Tinker laughed. "Do you think I would give you anything, a spy in my camp? Which planets? Tell me and we will let you go."

"You have it already, don't you?"

"Your uncle provided us with a small sample to show the purity of the ore."

With her thoughts spiralling and twisting, Katey envisioned her mother sitting in the kitchen blowing her favourite weed smoke out the back door, watching the farm bots. Failure. Unmarried. Uncle Carac.

"Stop the torture first," Katey said, attempting to sound confident.

"Ho, ho, Miss. Three Non-Association planets is good, but we can do better than that. Narrow it down for me, would you?" He motioned with a hand. "Ladies, if you please."

"My favourite bit. Soon this bot have more life than you." The woman patted the head of the shape that Katey had seen earlier.

Her heels were pushed down and the needle jabbed in and out in quick succession.

Pain flooded into her chest, her internal organs, ear lobes, toenails, and the base of her spine. With no time between the agonies, Katey rode on a wave of fire as sparks of hot energy raged and savaged nerve endings. Her heart, squeezed by a vice-like grip, beat in treble time. What would give out first?

Readying herself for unconsciousness, a black smog drifted down as she let her breath go.

Sweet release.

***

She walked along a flower-scented trackway, winding through the forest by a stream. Ahead, in a clearing, stood the statue of the "first farmer", surrounded with gifts of grain and flowers. Nearing the shrine, her legs became heavy, and as much as she tried, she couldn't lift them. The statue's stoical face stared blankly at her. Stuck, neither able to move forward or back, she surveyed the forest. A growing darkness appeared behind the statue, as if blown by a wind. Gradually floating towards her, a curtain of blackness consumed her. The void between life and death.

She flicked open her eyes and the lights were off. Wriggling her limbs, which were still tightly bound, she could do nothing but wait. Was it a torturer's trick – just when you think it's all over, they wake you up and start again? Shutting her eyes, she waited for the inevitable conversation.

" _Only playing. We start again. Hee hee."_

Attempting to pull her feet upwards, she failed to ease the pain across her ankles. No sounds, Tinker's voice, shuffling, or people breathing. They were leaving it a long time. Had they left?

Boom.

It came from inside the building.

P-zap, p-zap.

Fighting? Good or bad?

Perhaps an attack was taking place. Police Corps? It would mean arrest and incarceration for the rest of her life. As her eyesight settled, she saw a barely detectable glow of red light against the wall where the bot was sitting. Was it still there?

Licking her lips, she spoke quickly. "Bot, awake. Command, awake. Bot, stand up. Assistance. Person in danger."

"Come on, bot, what are your commands?" she said aloud. Thinking about the hand shackles fixed into the wall, she added, "Torture bot, dungeon bot, sex bot, pleasure bot. Awake. Help, assistance."

A power light glowed green, followed by a whirling and spinning sound.

"Who called the dungeon bot? Have you finished with your pleasure?"

"Yes, yes."

"Have you finished with your pleasure?"

"Yes, yes, yes."

Katey sensed, from the sliding noise, that the bot was standing up.

"Untie me," Katey said.

"Have you finished with your pleasure?"

"Yes. Untie me now."

"I am programmed to ask three times. Some guests enjoy pleading for release whilst in restraints. I will untie you."

"Can you see?"

"I am equipped with light and dark vision. I can see your restraints. I need the correct instrument. Please wait here."

Katey heard footsteps, a cabinet opening, a metallic rustling.

Shouting and weapon fire came from a room above, along with hurried footsteps.

Strand after strand, the restraints were cut, allowing blood to rush to previously constricted areas.

"I hope you enjoyed your session. Here at The Arthouse bordello, we strive to give one hundred percent satisfaction and pleasure. All our models are hygienically scrutinised. View the latest offers on our beam pages."

On releasing the last strand, the bot said, "Thank you for attending the dungeon. Have a good day."

Katey remained in position, fearing she couldn't move. Tightening her muscles, she managed to relax them, despite the pain. Rolling tentatively on her side, she lay in a foetal position. The noises outside ceased. Pulling her legs around, she slowly rose into a sitting position, dangling her legs over the table. Her head pounded, but as miserable as she felt, she knew she must escape, whatever that took. She couldn't bear to go through the torture again.

This must be one of Tinker's business interests, possibly still on Dorab, a few kilometres from the police raid. It made sense.

"Dungeon bot. Put a light on."

"Certainly, miss."

Low-level lights glowed, confirming no one else was inside the room. Perhaps they'd fled when the fighting started. Why hadn't they killed her? If the power went off, their torture machine may have become unusable. Fearing for their safety, the women would have hurriedly packed up and left. The woman she saw did not appear to be the shooting type.

Without thinking, she dropped onto her feet. She gasped – it was like standing on hot metal spikes. Leaning on the table, she stumbled awkwardly, her thigh throbbing. Finding her boots and socks to one side, she pulled them on. At least the boots would provide comfort from bare feet.

"Dungeon bot. Where is the quickest way out of here?"

"Through the door, then right. Escape stairs. Thank you, miss. Please come back for another session. Your pain is our enjoyment."

"You have no idea," Katey said, disengaging the door.

When she reached the stairs, there was smoke, together with the smells of burnt plastic, rubber and metal swirling above her. Shouts in the form of commands echoed across the stairwell. It sounded like Police Corps were taking control of the building.

Not having any weapons, she took it steady. Padding up each step, she pushed her mouth into an arm to stop herself coughing. Approaching an upper floor through the smoke, she stumbled over loose bricks and plaster – flotsam from impact grenades. Being careful with her footing, she glanced to the top of the stairs. From her angle, she could see a young officer from the chest up, standing in front of an exit door. Occasional zaps and other weapon fire resounded further inside the building. Obviously preferring action rather than guarding a door, the officer paced back and forward clutching his rifle.

She stood back against the wall.

Responding to his colleagues' shouts and gunfire, the young officer paced away from the exit door to stare through the gloom.

Grabbing a brick from a few steps down, she lobbed it into the smoke a few metres in front of the officer.

"Come on, you bastard. Do you want some?"

The officer, rifle ready, ran into the smoke.

Exiting whilst the officer chased his own shadow, Katey toppled outside into the daylight. Gulping fresh air, she rubbed her eyes, taking stock of her surroundings. Two empty Corps vehicles were parked one behind the other in the narrow lane at the rear of the bordello. Otherwise, it was deserted, judging from the abandoned glide scooters and vehicles. People had evacuated the area in a hurry.

Righting a glide scooter, she got onto the seat and fumbled around the steering column for the start button. Just taking the weight off her feet was a relief. Gliding forward, her clothing stuck to her as sweat mixed with cool air. The sunlight lit up the tops of the buildings opposite as Katey rode along tentatively.

A Police Corps cruiser turned and headed towards her. Two officers sat inside, one of whom pointed a finger in her direction. Wobbling, she shifted her weight, bit her lip, and accelerated into an alleyway not meant for vehicular traffic.

Determined not to be arrested or returned to the dungeon, Katey bumped and braked sharply through foul-smelling side passages where fishermen's wives fixed nets and gutted fish. Eventually emerging onto a main roadway, she joined some traffic. Zooming steadily along, she got her bearings and drove towards the "Low Town Quarter".

She slowed down because she needed to think about her next move. Her craft, parked safely three kilometres away, was not far from the wharf building, the site of the attack. Police Corps would be crawling all over the area for some time. It would be foolish to travel there.

Also, she knew her body wasn't up to it; staying upright had been difficult. She needed a place to rest until all the fuss had died down, time to rebuild her strength. Pressing on, she entered the densely populated area, full of seedy clubs, drug users, criminals and, importantly, cheap hotels.

### Chapter 24 – Aftermath

Brell stood in the living room of her apartment, fidgeting with her fingers communicating via a live link to Gorst.

"I'm okay. Got slashed by a laser bolt on my arm, but it's healing. Cuts and grazes but nothing serious," Gorst said, smiling, but his eyes showed exhaustion. Unchanged, his uniform still bore the marks of yesterday's laser battle. He'd managed to catch some sleep on an old sofa, but his office was strewn with memos, screens, cups, and equipment.

"I don't know what to say. I watched the whole thing on the beam news channel. Unbelievable, never seen anything like it," Brell said, declining the offer of a hot tea from Lottie.

"Lost a lot of brave men and women. Two of my laser teams were patrolling nearby and were first to respond. It wasn't on the news – you will understand why – but it was a set-up. After a series of calls, the building they responded to contained bots making noises. It was a cold-blooded deception, luring them to their deaths."

As she wiped her eyes, Brell felt relief at Gorst surviving the attack, sadness for the officers killed and guilt in her growing belief that a new weapon had just been unleashed. Should she tell him?

"Good shot by the way, when you took down the weapon operator."

"Luckily, or fatefully, I arrived a bit late as I was finishing off a meeting with the locals. I saw a male holding a type of modified rifle wearing a large backpack. He'd shot at a police van, so I took the shot and he went down. It appears from the subsequent explosion that the weapon blew up."

"Could it have been blown up on purpose?"

"Possibly, the crime techs are making a full scene examination. My vehicle shielded me from most of the blast. It was mayhem. I'm still communicating with relatives. What worries me is if there are more weapons. It's like a bank of concentrated laser canon – something we only see on Space Corps heavy armaments, not strapped to a man's back."

"What are the Corps doing?"

"Doubled security, increased patrols, raids and so on. Big fallout with the locals, affecting tourism – you know, the usual. Raiding a large bordello didn't help."

"Bordello?"

"Yes, as soon as we regrouped, we gained information from a boating party that possible suspects were seen near a bordello. We raided the place, but there was no sign of them."

"They must be identifiable?"

"Yes, I'm sure they are. Look, I've forgotten what's happening with you and the challenge."

"Just preparing some interview stuff for the second challenge. Bit lame compared to what you're doing. Gorst, I want to come out and see you. It's a day and half away from here. Not far."

"There's no need. I'm busy. Perhaps in a few days?"

"Got time now, before the next challenge. I can get there, see you, and get back before the show starts."

"Can't stop you. I know that well enough. But I will be busy."

"Well, it'll be a break from the circus here."

"It would be great to see you, but I'll leave it up to you." Gorst turned his head as someone entered his office. "I have to go. Lots to do. Love, dove," he said, touching his lips.

She stared back at him; the slight grazing across his cheek made him look even more handsome.

"Love, dove," Brell said.

After turning off the screen, she reached for a smoke tube, feeling deflated. The weapon sounded exactly as described at Police Corps HQ. Keeping Gorst in the dark hung heavy on her mind, but telling him would make it official and against the wishes of the deputy.

Of course, she trusted Gorst, but being scrupulously honest, he would feel compelled to inform his superior. Mourge would gleefully contact Prison Corps whilst demoting Brune and Scrivvens.

"Lottie ... this frigging business. We need to have a poke around there. Locardum, weapons, gang members ... perhaps Katey is involved. Anything really outside of official Police Corps investigations." Brell wiped her lips, thinking for a moment about drinking a cool intox chaser or worse.

Taking a lukewarm tea from Lottie's extended hand, she swigged it back in one go.

"Right, Lottie, can you calculate times for me. Journey to Dorab, visit Gorst, time to conduct our investigation, then back here to unlock the door for Scrivvens before the show starts."

"Three days' total travel. A day and a night with Captain Gorst?" Lottie said.

Brell nodded back.

"Two days spare for investigation and meeting Gorst. Six days total. Back two days before the challenge."

"Start packing, arrange transport to the _Lulu_ , and book a secure hotel near to the Police Corps station. Lottie, it's time to dust off the old investigation skills."

"And to leave the apartment to travel across the galaxy. How exciting," Lottie said.

***

"Regg, any news of the ladies? Been quite a few hours since the attack," the Tinker said, sauntering back into his bunker after another tedious meeting upstairs. His slippers scraped along the floor.

"Just compiling the intelligence, sir. Police Corps info stream scramblers have made it difficult. The bordello's power is back on. Lot of work needed before returning to full capacity."

Instead of responding, the Tinker watched the wharf building incident again, clapping his hands when his Obliterator vaporised the Police Corps vehicles. Next, he viewed Katey's torture once more.

"Pity she wasn't naked. Young fit body. Anyway, if it hadn't finished early, she would have told us everything she knows, including the names of the three Non-Assocs. The sisters took her to the edge and were readying themselves for their party trick. Unfortunately, that Corps captain brought it all to an end."

"Sir, I've found the ladies. They managed to get on board a private cruiser. On screen."

Limi and Mimi sat together on a wooden bench, staring ahead, unblinking. A holographic flower-like creation stood in a vase to one side.

"Tinkler, we got information for you," Mimi said.

"Yes indeed. Unfortunately our Police Corps friends decided to raid the bordello. I take it you got out safely?"

"We slip away. Find cruiser, nice captain, easily persuaded."

"Ladies, you did a splendid job."

"You call when more torture required, okay?"

"Have a safe journey."

"Okay," Mimi said, nodding slightly.

The screen went blank. "It's all right, Regg, you can come out from behind the settee," the Tinker said, mockingly.

Regg just nodded.

"Mack has made brief contact. All the team are safe and patched up. He knows not to ask about Katey."

"Good, good," Tinker said, sniffing a small lump of weed before packing it into his pipe. "The weapon clearly needs work, but wasn't it fantastic. The Locardum is even more important to us. We must turn our sights on those Non-Assoc savages and double our efforts to get that woman's implants. Thoughts, Regg?"

"I'll send another message to Smiler. Having seen the weapon's power, you could take out our competitors by threat alone. We mustn't lose sight of the Katey woman. Our people haven't been able to locate her yet. Her interest in the Locardum may be a threat to you and the business."

"We must find and kill her. It's the only way."

"Suggest subtlety, sir. When we do find her, it may be worth tracking her movements – she may lead us to the ore. Then she can be terminated. Sir."

The Tinker grumbled back at Regg, begrudging the man's common sense. He rubbed his stomach. The spray and tablets hadn't stopped his stomach acid.

***

Before entering the _Lulu_ , Brell checked her freighter was secure and the utility bots were safely stowed away. Running a hand over each landing strut, she wished the craft a happy and safe journey. Finally, she walked towards the main cabin door.

With its one hundred metre length of enclosed cargo space, four huge beam engines, and six thrust drives, the _Lulu_ was very versatile. Smaller than the leviathan freighters which hauled cargo between space docks but larger than short-range delivery craft. Being able to land vertically, Brell could command work from individuals to large companies working from remote locations – she only needed a large enough landing surface.

Entering the cockpit from the airlock, the pilot and co-pilot's seats were situated next to each other at the apex of the freighter's bow. To the right of the airlock ran a long wall, with three doorways leading separately to Brell's cabin, a galley kitchen, and a bathroom with a shower. The remainder of the cockpit contained equipment lockers and spare seats. Intended for one or two crew sharing the same cabin in shifts, it was typical of its freighter class. With all personal comforts, high-spec auto cruise, mapping, and comms – in Brell's opinion, it was a joy to pilot.

"Ready to pump the sump?" Lottie said.

"The what?" Brell said, scrambling into the main pilot's seat. "Pump the what?"

"It an expression from the _Plundering Pirates_ beam show. Captain Roger always says 'Pump the sump' when taking off."

"Is there one for landing, dare I ask?"

"Yes. 'Time to dock the engine block'."

"Are there any good-looking women, by any chance, on board, being pumped or docked?"

"Yes. First Officer Kitty and Engine Room Fanny. I've dressed myself in the style of Kitty."

She was wearing a light green pilot's jumpsuit, with badges above her chest and on the arms. A white cap with a gold crest above the peak sat on top of her head.

"Well, Kitty, how about we get this wonderful craft in the air and onto a space lane as per my flight route. We've just been given clearance. Would you like to take her up? If your powerful brain and dextrous hands can manage it."

Brell folded her arms waiting for Lottie to make the necessary piloting commands whilst keeping a watch on vital controls. The engines whined and throbbed, the note changing as acceleration increased. Slowly ascending, with atmosphere shields automatically engaging, the craft turned on its axis as it headed up into the outer atmosphere.

"Watch out for traffic bots and speed traps," Brell said.

Lottie brought up a screen showing the route ahead, and markers floated next to waypoints. "I have accessed the latest pilot's chat map to see where traffic control are hiding out. Those traffic bots can rotate on their own speeding tickets." She pointed an index finger up in the air.

"Are we going to get space pirate quotes all the way through this journey?"

"Yes."

Brell rolled her eyes. If nothing else, it was an amusing diversion.

After entering one of the main spaceways, Lottie gradually accelerated to full cruising speed and then steadied a finger ready to initiate the space folding technology.

"Buckle up, it's time to crank the shank."

### Chapter 25 – Medical alert

Mayleth slumped onto the bed in her studio cell. Communal time had ended, another pointless activity created by the show's producers to encourage drama between shows.

With men and women separated by toughened glass, nothing happened. Clearly exhausted from the first challenge and incessant interviews, most challengers were content to sit and stare at each other. Klak sat on his hands as if deep in thought, not something he managed often. Standing up, he faced the women and made obscene gestures at Mayleth. Having not received any reaction from her or the others, he picked a fight with Pagla, which ended in lame verbal taunts.

Klak's mistake was to stand in front of Ugga's line of sight. Since the start of the session, Ugga had sat silently, inspecting the women, one by one, his mind lost in desire.

An uppercut to his chin was so fast that Klak didn't comprehend any pain until the second blow to his ribs, which put him on the floor. Without breaking sweat, Ugga sat back down and continued his vigil. Guards entered the area and made a big fuss about restraining and dragging away a half-conscious Klak.

Mayleth, thankful she would be left alone for the remainder of the day, ordered her usual hot spice drink from the auto chef. Though the power light was on, nothing happened. Trying again without success, she called a guard.

One of Mayleth's regular female guards, a muscular unsmiling woman, entered, ordering Mayleth to stand to one side. She fumbled behind a rear panel to reset the machine, which buzzed into life and delivered Mayleth's previously ordered drink. Reaching down, she held the cup before handing it over to Mayleth.

"Bot cleaner glitch."

Mayleth sniffed the drink and took a sip. "Seems okay."

Nodding, the guard left the cell.

A short while later, after finishing her drink, Mayleth rubbed her temples. Her legs buckled as she tried to stand up, making her fall back onto the bed. Lying on her side, she moved her elbow down to prop herself up but lacked sufficient strength.

The cell door disengaged, revealing the same female guard.

"What's the matter?"

Mayleth was lying on her side, eyes closed, unresponsive.

"Medical alert," the guard said into her communicator.

A colleague arrived to assist but stood back as two bot orderlies brought a gurney into the cell and heaved Mayleth onto it, pushing her out into the corridor.

"Stress," the female guard said to her colleague.

As the orderlies slowed down to enter a treatment room, the guard interjected. "Not this one. Special room, here, for this lady." She pointed to a side room further up.

Once inside, a doctor entered and waved the orderlies out. The female guard exchanged glances with the doctor.

"Can you help me turn her onto her back, please," the doctor said, his voice weak.

"Everything okay?" the guard said, noticing sweat appearing above the doctor's top lip.

"Yes, yes, eager to get on," the doctor said, staring at Mayleth.

Mayleth's slim body was easily flipped over.

"Good strength there. You must work out," the doctor said, trying to smile.

"Just get it done, both our arses are on the line."

Exiting the room, the guard folded her arms ready to stop anyone trying to interfere.

" _Guard two-three-three, everything okay with your challenger?_ " a control room operator said.

She pressed behind her ear. "Yes. Stressed after free association. Needs a look over and a tonic."

" _Okay, keep us updated_."

"Understood. Two-three-three out."

***

Smiler sat in his hotel room, examining screens. Relieved that the first part of the plan had worked smoothly, he viewed the sweating doctor and Mayleth's unconscious body.

"All secure. Start the procedure." He looked at the youth. "You got this?"

"Ready to capture upload." The youth wiped a hand across his mouth without taking his eyes off the screen.

Smiler watched the doctor's shaking hands laser scissor through Mayleth's shirt. After exposing her skin, he ran a small scanner around her shoulder, and upon hearing a low beep, he marked the point with a dab of coloured fluid.

Opening a black case, he took out a device and placed it firmly on top of the marked area.

"Signal strong, implant warming up," the doctor said aloud, trying to make his voice sound confident.

Examining a side screen, relieved, he said, "Ready."

Smiler viewed the same screens as the doctor. Mayleth's implant had awoken and was waiting for synchronisation.

"Go ahead," Smiler said.

Nodding, the doctor pressed the synch button. One percent appeared on Smiler's screen, confirming that the direct data link worked. Glancing over at the youth, still glued to his screen, he couldn't resist a smug smile to himself.

Twenty percent.

Sitting back, Smiler could only wait for the next few minutes to pass.

Fifty percent.

With eyes flicking from Mayleth to the data link screen, the doctor's lips moved in a silent prayer.

Seventy-five percent.

The door burst open to reveal the female guard, her face flushed.

"Boss is coming. Abort it. Abort!" She extended her arms out helplessly.

Eighty-nine percent.

"Keep going," Smiler said loudly and firmly.

Ninety-two percent.

Both the doctor and guard stood still, uncertain what to do.

"Tell her to get her sweaty tits outside the door and stop anyone coming in," Smiler said.

"The man says go outside, stop people getting in." The doctor relayed the message.

She didn't move.

Ninety-six percent.

Voices sounded outside, followed by the door slamming open. Standing firmly, the Prison Corps commander raised his laser pistol. "Stop what you are doing, get away from the woman." He motioned for the female guard to step aside as he strode across to Mayleth, ripping the device off her back.

The synchronised connection failed.

"Ninety-six percent – good enough?"

"Sorry, boss, the final portion of the file decrypts the whole upload to make it clear and audible. We didn't get it."

Smiler hurled his chair across the room, his face red.

Watching the room fill with guards, Smiler turned stiffly back to his screens, eyes locking onto a mini screen on which two buttons flashed red. Adjusting his clothing, he smoothed hair across his bald patch, coughed, and pulled up another chair.

After pressing the first button, the doctor collapsed on the floor clutching his neck. All eyes went to the female guard, who stepped back against the wall. Despite her utter desperation, nothing happened. She rubbed her neck whilst her colleagues looked on.

"Restrain her. Police Corps are on way," the commander said.

They took out the somewhat relieved guard as the commander bent down to check on Mayleth. Having secured the scene, he summoned a medical doctor to examine her.

Raised voices in the corridor gave way to gasps and shrieks. The commander wasn't surprised to find the female guard lying still on the floor as Police Corps officers arrived. Dead before she could say anything.

"Two more minutes – hope you enjoyed it," Smiler said, closing his screens, thinking how he would explain the outcome to the Tinker.

"Boss," the youth said, stuttering, "I've got something. It is heavily distorted. Best we can do."

Smiler wheeled around, "Play it then."

"I searched on 'Locardum' and 'ore'. It's on full volume." The youth manipulated more buttons.

A distorted, barely understandable voice said, _" ..._ _ore he bragged about?"_

Tinny sounds.

" ... _rare ..."_

" _Where ... delivery?"_

Tensing, Smiler hoped the next sentence would be a lifesaver.

An electronic garbled sound, distorted beyond recognition, blared out.

"Is that it?"

"Yes, can't make it any clearer without the encryption code. No idea whether male, female or where it was said." The youth bit his lip.

Walking up and down, Smiler balled his fists. The youth sat back, eyes staring, rubbing his hands together.

Smiler stopped still. "Okay, okay. Let's get hold of the Tinker, play it to him. It shows we're on the right path at least."

### Chapter 26 – While we've been talking

Brell awoke from a nap. With Lottie piloting the craft, she felt more relaxed about taking a break than with the craft's own autopilot. Her cube chimed again, announcing a live message.

Lazily rolling onto her side, she activated a screen.

"An attempt has been made to scan Mayleth's implants. Fortunately it was stopped mid process," Brune said.

"What happened?" Brell said, her head clearing.

"I've confirmed the details with the Prison Corps commander. After being drugged by a guard, she was taken to a spare medical room, where a technician parading as a doctor put a scanner over her implant. Sensors showed data transferring remotely to an untraceable location within the city, then ceasing. A guard and technician died, believed via soft implanted pulser."

"Tinker?"

"More than likely. It involved fake IDs and paid-off vulnerable staff."

"Well it confirms they need Mayleth's audio data. Especially since the new weapon was unleashed. This incident should allow us to get her out of prison now. She's a victim, been assaulted. It needs to be investigated."

Brell knew from Brune's facial expression that his answer wouldn't be positive. "Same answer as before. As the studio is in charge of her custody, normal rules do not apply. Basically, the legislators won't touch her or get involved, it's outside their jurisdiction. She's studio property."

"For frig's sake, Brune, it's unbelievable. So while we've been talking about it, the Tinker has got on with it. Luckily, the attempt failed. Let's hope Scrivvens can pull it off."

"This is where the law knocks up against our objectives. Deputy Mourge will distance himself from any attempts we make."

"Whilst wanting us to be successful, so he can take the credit," Brell finished his sentence. "He dawdled for too long and it's slipped out of his control. He's more worried about his promotion than anything now. We're going to have to break the law, Brune, take risks."

He nodded.

"But say Tinker gets to her again, or Carac's family finds the Locardum. If it gets into the hands of the weapon techs, then it's chaos and death."

"I'll speak to the deputy again, though I'm unable to promise anything. He'll bleat on about using more detectives or Space Corps. Anyway, journey okay? Give my regards to Gorst. We're all on alert since the atrocity."

"Thanks, I'll tell him. Still haven't told him anything about the ore, and thankfully there have been no further attacks with the weapon."

"Speaking to our techs, they believe from examining images that the weapon was a prototype, constructed with bits and pieces, hence it exploding. They hope, as do we all, the process used up all their stash of Locardum."

"I'll have a little poke around, see if I can find anything of use. Be back before the second challenge to meet Scrivvens, don't worry."

"Can't stop you, but be careful. Tinker's people are not ones to cross."

After ending the conversation, Brell went to watch Lottie. With her hat still perched on her head, she was monitoring every aspect of the craft.

Grinning, Brell returned to bed.

***

"Smiler, will get back to you," the Tinker said.

Smiler's face remained static on the screen.

"That face. You just want to punch it, don't you, Regg?"

"One conclusion you may make, sir."

The Tinker smiled at the non-committal reply. "Again I ask, do we trust him?"

"No, we should be very wary of him."

"What about the failed attempt?"

"Daring, nearly came off. The basic info obtained suggests the woman has vital information. It also appears cell security may has been stepped up behind the scenes."

"The meddling Police Corps commander and the blue woman, do you think?"

"They like fair play and working to Association rules and law."

"Yes indeed. What a boring world it would be if everyone played to the rules. I think you're right. The Police and Prison Corps commanders spoke at length at the pre-challenge party."

In silence, the Tinker loaded his pipe and took a few puffs. Regg, head down, continued to interact with his displays. The Tinker cast his eyes over his empire with the sound turned off. One screen displayed a view of the street outside the bordello where Katey was tortured. An army of cleaner bots scrubbed and cleaned the exterior.

Rival bordello owners were cashing in on the Tinker's misfortune. It would cost many credits to get the building back in use, and all because of the local commander and his blue girlfriend.

His empire showed weakness. After employing the new weapon, he enjoyed the interest and respect. But without a follow-up, and with the bordello still not fully operational, Tinker's informants reluctantly reported that their rivals considered the Obliterator a grand one-off event. All show and no substance – the Tinker was losing his touch.

Smiler's failed attempt made him angry. This was not the first time Smiler had let him down.

"Regg, get a team in to kick some butt. Make sure the bordello is up and running as soon as possible. Get the scientist back to his lab. I want another Obliterator made, one which lasts longer. Find some scrap Locardum or whatever. Make sure he understands." He set his pipe down, rubbed his face. A streak of acid rumbled through his stomach. "Send out messages. Ensure no one is thinking of leaving old Tinker's empire. Also, get Mack's team to Elytia. Give them some credits to enjoy themselves and buy some suits. I want them on hand in case our friend Smiler needs prompting."

"Yes, sir."

The Tinker wrapped himself in his dressing gown, feeling old.

### Chapter 27 – First things first

"Right, Lottie, are you happy with the task list?"

After an unexceptional journey, they arrived at their hotel room, where Brell made plans for visiting Gorst and for their investigation.

"Yes, Brell. Check all departure manifests, private transporters' arrivals, sightings of any gang members' normal and changed appearance, local Tinker involvement, and likely places the gang may be staying."

"I believe they will stay nearby, holed up, waiting for everything to calm down. It's worth a shot. Do you have everything you need?"

"Yes. Encrypted security links to Police Corps and local businesses are all active."

"Also, Lottie, using your new skills, try to think more widely. Put yourself in the gang's shoes and generate possible scenarios."

"Thank you, I will," Lottie said.

"Then I'll leave you to it and will be back tomorrow morning. Let me know if anyone contacts the hotel room, or of any suspicious activity outside the hotel building. Just in case someone's following us."

"Yes, Brell. And may I say you look smart. Have you everything for your overnight stay with Captain Gorst?"

"I do, Lottie," Brell said.

"Enjoy your ride," Lottie said, smiling.

Brell raised her eyebrows.

"The ride on the auto bus to the Police Corps barracks, of course," Lottie said.

"I will, Lottie. Secure the door after me."

After arriving at the Police Corps building, she worked her way through increased levels of security, eventually finding the senior officers' wing. Gorst met her at the door, unabashed at the long hug Brell gave him in the middle of the corridor. Passing officers stepped past them, aware of their captain's partner and her history. After all the stress of the last few days, he deserved a very long hug.

"Is there anything I can do to help? Still okay for tonight?" she said later, inside Gorst's office.

"I just want you to be safe, and yes, I've cleared my desk for the night off – got my deputy on call," Gorst said, smiling.

"Do you know anything about the weapon?"

"No, it's as if they took a heavy laser weapon off a space cruiser."

"I'll ask around. I hear many things in my travels, fancy tales, much of it rubbish, some of it true," she said, realising she couldn't bring herself to tell him about the Locardum. How many times had she thought about this? "I've taken up enough time. I'll get over to the barracks, warm everything up and see you later."

"You bet," Gorst said, smiling as he hugged Brell again, this time giving her backside a gentle squeeze.

She made eye contact with him. "I need you in one piece, you know that." She kissed him unashamedly and grabbed his backside in return, enjoying the closeness of his body.

***

"I managed to steal two blank identity cards when reception staff looked the other way. We should be able to knock up something realistic," Brell said upon returning to the hotel room.

Lottie was wearing a dark blue jacket, trousers, an open-necked white shirt, and black shoes, in line with her new role as an investigating "Agent". She retained her apartment "face", considering that a mature woman fitted the role best. She also suspected that Brell preferred it.

"The suits fits you well."

"Yes, one of the outfits you ordered for me before leaving Elytia. May I ask how is Captain Gorst?" Lottie said.

"He's fine. Very busy."

"May I also say you have a certain spring in your step this morning," Lottie said, demurely.

"Thank you. I enjoyed the ride," Brell said, raising an eyebrow. "On the auto bus, of course, before you ask."

Brell changed clothes, checked her messages, and grabbed a spicy drink.

"Right, now, where are we? Agent Lottie Plumbuck. Plumbuck?" Brell's eyes went straight to Lottie's identity card.

Lottie had managed, in the time Brell had spent getting changed, to insert a picture of herself onto the holo portion of the security card and secure it round her neck on a chain.

"Miss Plumbuck is a no-nonsense but fun detective character from ..."

" _Plundering Pirates_?" Brell said at the same time as Lottie. "Tell me, is she the character that dies after one appearance on the programme?"

"No, she makes regular appearances when Captain Roger has a scrape with the law or needs help with a difficult investigation."

"Good, well, Agent Lottie, what have you found out?"

Lottie activated some screens. "Facial distortion masks were used, but a body shape matches Katey, whom I believe is still in the area. I'm unable to trace the other gang members – they escaped by water, no cameras. No further information on the weapon or the Tinker. Questions remain over Katey. She walked with the two men towards the bordello entrance but disappeared from view. A short while later the two men re-appeared without her. During the Police Corps raid she was seen making good her escape from the rear of the building."

"Katey eh? Let's follow that lead. Take me through it."

Using images, Lottie pieced together the attack and the movements of gang members afterwards, including Katey's escape.

Running a hand through her hair, Brell considered the information.

"Corps raided the bordello because of those three going to its entrance, but they found nothing of interest." Brell regarded Lottie as if weighing up the answer to her next question. "Scenarios?"

Nodding, Lottie said, in a rehearsed manner, "They disappear from view, so something may have happened on the doorstep which we couldn't see. That aside, she was taken there to get medical assistance or to meet someone. She may have been taken against her will. A stunt, deliberately engineered to put us off the scent. Whatever happened to her, she survived. Due to the manner of her exit, via a rear door, on a speeding scooter, she was escaping, or didn't want to be caught by the Corps."

Brell sipped her drink. "Escaping from the Tinker's people most probably. Police Corps just happened to be there. Perhaps his people discovered something about her or the Locardum. Well done, Lottie, a good overview. Did you manage to think like a gang member?"

"It was exciting and liberating." Lottie spoke quickly. "I ran through the timeline considering what you, Captain Roger and Scrivvens would have done."

"Thanks for comparing me with a fictional captain, but keep at it, Lottie; we'll make an agent of you yet. Right, where's Katey, do you think?"

"I have chosen three places, all in the Low Town Quarter. The Slap and Tickle, Peaches and the Koo Koo."

"Why those three?"

"Location, cheap accommodation, dense population, view of Main Street below, a place where people do not ask questions, fuzzy street images of similar-looking women and pleasure bots."

"With you on all but the last bit."

"Based on Mr Scrivvens' report, local history, and Police Corps' incident files, I believe Katey may still be a virgin. It is accepted practice in her community for women to save their 'maidenhood' until married to a man. He is expected to be a strong head of the family and to run the farm. His wife will become a compliant homemaker, nurturing and raising their children."

Raising an eyebrow and giving Brell a knowing look, Lottie said, "I would add that contemporary records and gossip streams suggest many women and men from these community backgrounds utilise the services of pleasure bots, secretly, so as to enjoy a sexual or intimate experience without breaking family vows."

"And this led you to these places?"

"Yes. Solo female requests are not as frequent as solo male. Suppliers of pleasure bots are often lax with security. A male pleasure bot was requested by a female at each likely venue in the last three days. It is fair to say Katey is stressed as well as injured. It is conceivable she could have ordered a pleasure bot to ease tension – scratch an itch, so to speak. Or it may have been a cuddle bot, one used to, well, cuddle up with, nothing sexual."

Brell examined the maps. The pinpointed locations, in the middle of a densely populated part of town, would be definitely worth visiting.

"Well, Lottie, good job. I'll check them out. The sex bot thing – something you learnt from your creator?"

"Yes, her experiences have been retained in my core. It is, after all, important to stir the cauldron of memories every now and again."

***

Smelling of intox, weed smoke, vomit and street dirt, the area was just how Brell imagined it. Buildings crammed next to each other either side of the narrow roadway, blocking out sunlight. Holographic and hardboard signs fought side by side for attention in the early evening light. People walked, glided, or staggered, making vehicular traffic zigzag to avoid hitting anyone.

A worn-out tidy bot whirled slowly past, attempting to pick up roadside rubbish. As its arm swept a small part of the ground, a youth drove past on a glide scooter and kicked the bot. Tottering to keep its balance, it fell with a loud clank, servos spinning loudly in an attempt to right itself.

Tugging at her head covering, a modern-style cloth wrap, Brell let the fabric ends dangle down the side of her face. With dark glasses and light gloves, her light blue skin would not be too obvious to a casual passer-by. A jumpsuit completed the look, suggesting a worker searching for rest and recuperation. Feeling the outside pocket, she checked that the jolter was secure and fully charged this time. Ignoring the holo advertising boards, people and animations, she reached the first of Lottie's locations.

"Lottie, I'm outside the Slap and Tickle," Brell said, using a communicator set in her collar.

" _Understood."_ Lottie's voice came through clearly.

Brell left Lottie monitoring communications, screens and, thanks to Scrivvens, encrypted Police Corps' streams.

"I'm going in to enquire about rooms."

" _Understood."_

She stepped inside and smelled air thick with heavy scents as light mood music played. It smelled better than the streets outside.

Heavy red drapes were knotted together into a central point in the ceiling, hanging above a large circular padded seat. Gold motifs adorned the walls, but despite the attempt at making the interior appear like an ancient Krokon king's palace, it consisted of a large room with a reception desk, pleasure cabins, and private rooms upstairs.

An overweight unshaven man lumbered out of a cabin scratching his crotch whilst attempting to light up a smoke tube. Moments later, a female pleasure bot dressed in blue underwear and high-heeled shoes appeared from the same room. She fizzed up her blonde hair with a hand, saw Brell, and tottered over to her.

"Hello, welcome to the palace, the best place on Main Street. We cater for every need and desire. What will be your pleasure?" the female said, in a bored, practiced voice.

Smiling wryly, Brell remembered some of the previous occasions when she had visited pleasure palaces. Mostly it was when raiding the premises with Police Corps. Association politicians, local leaders, and monks, to name a few, had been captured inside. The raid involving three nuns caught in uncompromising positions became legendary in Police Corps circles. Lottie would enjoy hearing the story one day.

"I'm in town trying to track down a female friend of mine. Sadly I have some bad news to deliver. This is an image of her." She thrust an old image of Katey in front of the bot. "Is she staying upstairs? It is very important."

"Hold on, I'll check. Digby, got a female staying upstairs?" the bot said, raising its voice towards the rear.

"Nah, ugly sweaty men wearing out my bots is all we got today. Two ladies in yesterday," a male voice grunted out from the back somewhere.

Brell said a loud "thank you" and walked out onto the street, narrowly missing a "street ambassador" bot. Wearing faded blue-and-white-striped tabards, they were supposed to be the eyes and ears of Police Corps in high crime areas. Often intentionally damaged, they rolled up and down getting in the way.

A youth wandered up to Brell. "Deep Yellow, fixars, lowers, brash, mash?" he said, ignoring the street ambassador.

She kept walking. "Lottie, no go at the Slap and Tickle. Next nearest is Peaches, only a hundred metres up the road."

" _Bringing up images, standby."_

Adjusting her head covering, she stepped across the roadway, careful not to barge into anyone, as some looked a bit punchy. Shoppers, punters and tourists were all carrying on as normal, Brell thought, oblivious, or uncaring, about the killing of officers nearby.

" _No untoward activity outside. Still unable to access the hostel's systems."_

"Be there shortly."

" _Standing by."_

Peaches, again, another perfect location. Unassuming, cheap, busy, with a reception desk acting as first-line security.

Standing tall, she approached the receptionist. "Undercover Police Corps. Register search for last seven days," Brell said sternly.

"Sorry, what? Identity please."

The bot's programming clicked in – no surprise considering the area and clientele.

"Register and internal image search. Failure to show me will result in an investigation into any illegal activity inside your hostel." She held up her fake holo identity badge.

"Yes, madam. I need permission from the owner." The bot's tinny voice rose up a notch.

Making no reply, she stood back to watch the bot frantically contacting a real person.

"Agent Lottie, get the officers ready," she said aloud.

" _Standing by this end. You sound very convincing and commanding,"_ Lottie said.

On hearing about the other agents, the bot doubled its efforts, and after a brief pause, a confirmation message was received on its desk screen.

"The owner has consented. Please wait," the bot said.

"Sensible."

Holding up a comms chip, the bot pointed a long metal finger at a dock port in the side of the reception desk.

"Agent Lottie, transfer data."

Glancing outside, people walked past, paying no attention. A newscast stream burbled from somewhere further inside the reception area.

" _Confirm. We have the information,"_ Lottie said.

Brell pocketed the comms chip. "Thank you. You may continue with your business. How do I reach the upstairs rooms?"

Silently, the bot pointed to a doorway further inside, then put its head down and shuffled holo pages.

" _Top floor, room 403. Reception register image of guest gives ninety-three percent match on Katey. Just watched her limping towards the stairs a few hours after the raid. Looks injured."_

"Got it. Keep comms open."

" _Understood. Take care,"_ Lottie said, concern in her voice.

Brell bounded up the stairs.

### Chapter 28 – Time for a punch-up

"Approaching top floor," Brell said.

" _Standing by,"_ Lottie replied.

Slowing down to catch her breath, Brell emerged into the corridor. Carpet stains seemed to be keeping the fabric together. Dimly lit, with music, moans, and shouts sounding from the two lines of doors, this was certainly not a high-end establishment.

Seeing a service cupboard, Brell tapped on the door and said, "A mess needs tidying up."

The door juddered opened, revealing a tidy bot covered in dust with a black patch of decaying goo slicked over its head.

"Must clean mess," the bot said, its voice flat without any inflection.

Placing a foot next to the bot's wheels, she reached in and found the master key hanging from a nail. It was an old trick learnt from a detective Brell accompanied on a hotel raid.

"Reception staff get fed up resupplying a faulty tidy bot, so they often leave a spare key at the back of its cupboard," he'd said to bemused colleagues.

Unable to remember the detective's name, Brell thanked him anyway. Lifting her foot, the tidy bot lurched off to search for mess.

Gripping her jolter, Brell stood to one side of door 403 and listened for any movement. Katey's behaviour could be unpredictable, particularly if in pain. Brell considered asking Lottie to call Police Corps as backup. Going inside, on her own, was dangerous. She told Lottie to stop quoting risk assessment guidance from a Police Corps manual.

However, the chance to find out about the Locardum, before Corps officers came steaming in, was worth the gamble. Using the key card, she disengaged the door and pushed it open.

It was quiet inside – no humans, bots, or holos were evident. The ceiling light had been left on.

It was a basic room, with a double bed, bathroom, desk space and a window overlooking Main Street. Once satisfied, she stepped further into the room, closing the door. The bathroom, with neither door, nor working light, was empty.

Outside, holo advertising boards streamed intermittently through the dirty window, its light diffusing across the room. General street sounds were loud, as the building structure lacked audio baffling. The smell of sweat and stale food in addition to the warmth of the room gave the impression of someone living permanently there. The bed was a mess of rucked sheets, uneaten food, cups, and discarded packages. An electrified bandage lay on the floor next to discarded clothing and aid sprays. A large wall screen displayed a daytime romantic drama with the sound muted.

Brell picked up two cubes from a small dressing table. Examining them, she saw they were cheap media-only models. There were minimal personal luxuries: hair dye applications in the bathroom, but not much else.

_Click_.

The door lock disengaged.

Quickly stepping fully into the bathroom, Brell listened for movement. She heard slow, cautious footsteps, followed by silence.

Calming her breathing, she crouched and tilted her head to peek across the room. The lights switched off and a silhouetted figure padded forward.

Brell hoped the jolter would be sufficient; it didn't show on weapon scanners due to its low-level impact. A worker out for fun in the old town setting off scanners with a concealed laser weapon would have caused unnecessary problems. Gorst would go berserk if she started firing at anyone on her own.

She drew her jolter. Rushing forward, she intentionally collided with the person, pushing them backwards onto the bed. The jolter fell out of her hand, rolling onto the floor. Realising the figure was a woman, Brell grabbed her in an awkward hug to stop strangleholds or the use of weapons. Grasping and pulling at each other, their grunts drowned out the street noise. Crushed biscuits from the bed covering stuck to clothes and arms.

Pushing back, Brell slid her feet onto the floor in an attempt to stand up and get to the door.

" _Brell, do you want Police Corps?"_ Lottie said, her voice showing concern.

A foot hooked around Brell's calf, making both women totter before falling. Landing hard on her back, Brell instinctively put her hands up to soften the woman's fall on top of her. Without hesitating, the woman brought her knees up and sat astride Brell's thighs. Pushing and punching at the woman's chest and face, Brell kicked up with her legs.

Grasping Brell's wrists, the woman sat back, out of arm's length, and pushed down with her backside. With her knees squashed, Brell couldn't use her legs. Light fragmented across the woman's face, her blue eyes and jawline were unmistakable.

Katey.

Aware of Katey's superior upper-body strength, Brell stopped punching to catch her breath whilst considering her next move. Katey shifted position, her thighs clamping the sides of Brell's waist, a movement, Brell knew, intended to hold a victim so as to punch them into submission.

Tightening her stomach muscles, Brell twisted her wrist free and reached underneath Katey's rucked-up shirt to fondle a breast. Its softness was at odds with the toned body. Surprise on Katey's face produced the desired hesitation as Brell punched into her left thigh.

As Katey gasped in response, Brell punched the point again. Katey released the other wrist, slapped at Brell's face and grabbed her forearms, pressing her body forward. Unable to stop Katey's momentum, Brell's arms became pinned behind her head. Their cheeks touched. Brell smelled unwashed body odour.

"Saw you on my scanners ... waited until you got in the room. How did you find me?" Katey said into Brell's ear.

Brell tried to push, pull, and wriggle, but Katey's thigh grip and body position was too strong for her.

"An astute researcher and your limp." Brell decided not to mention the male pleasure bot connection in case it caused undue violence.

"What do you want?"

"You tried to kill my partner," Brell said.

Slumping, Katey slackened her grip.

Feeling Katey's body weight shift, Brell lay still, making no attempt to punch out, believing a moment of restraint was occurring. She glanced up to see Katey, face grimacing, limping over to a chair near the wall.

"Lottie, she's here, standby," she said, breathing deeply.

Brell stood up and backed away, hands in front of her, and sat on the edge of the dressing table. They examined each other, both panting for breath. As Katey wiped blood off her mouth, Brell adjusted her clothing and rubbed her jaw.

Putting a hand up in an open gesture, Brell said, "You tried to kill my partner. And you were involved in the shootout the other day. All those officers dead. Why? What are you after?"

"Grabbing my bubby – very good, have to remember that one. In a fight, not, you know, in any other way," Katey said, her voice hinting at embarrassment.

"Old prison trick," Brell said.

Katey ran her hand along her left thigh. "We didn't know what was going to happen. The weapon was a complete surprise." Katey stared at Brell.

Brell looked around, unable to see the jolter. There were no other obvious weapons. Had one been hidden? She looked just like her uncle. Her poor attempt at changing her hair colour was obvious – some of her white hair appeared at the edges.

"You're lying. We know you were at the warehouse firing at everyone."

"We didn't know they were going to test a new weapon. We thought the job was just roughing up or disposing of people, like normal," Katey said, her breath now under control.

"The weapon was devastating," Brell said, bringing her voice tone down a fraction. Perhaps Katey wanted to say something. Good, Lottie was recording everything.

"You know who my uncle is ... was. My family can't forgive you winning that competition instead of him." Katey's face winced. "I'm recovering," Katey said, as if answering Brell's thoughts. "I couldn't move for two days. All my nerves were on fire."

"You didn't appear to be badly hurt."

"I wasn't, not from the fracas anyway. The Tinker ordered my torture."

"He was your boss. We guessed that."

"I wasn't careful enough ... was rumbled. The torture was ..." She shook her head. "I believe I was saved because your boyfriend raided the building I was held in."

Brell rubbed the back of her neck. "What do you want? What are you after?"

Katey was silent, weighing up the options. "Locardum. It's all about the Locardum," she said. "Uncle Carac wanted it to pay for the upkeep of our farm, keep it in the family. We're in danger of losing the farmstead. However, he hid it too well, moving it, probably at the last minute, to ensure the Tinker kept his side of the bargain. Think also he was concerned the Tinker would come after us."

Brell stood up and brushed a hand through her hair. Katey also got to her feet getting ready for round two.

"Look, I'm after the Locardum as well. All to do with weapon making," Brell said, considering that the truth might be useful. "After the display the other day, it proves our worst fears. I presume that weapon used some of the ore?"

"I found out Uncle Carac gave Tinker a small sample as an act of good faith. The inspector's visit to our farm, you suddenly turning up now – it suggests you have no idea where it's located either, do you?"

"Do you?"

"Perhaps."

"Katey, you have guts and determination taking risks with the Tinker. However, it involved murder and damage which would put you in prison for life. You're still young."

"It's been two years. The farm can't wait and the neighbours are taking an interest in buying up pieces of land. I had to do something to find it. Our heirloom, so to speak. So I got inside the Tinker's world, hoping to find the ore before he did. I couldn't exactly shake hands with people the Tinker wanted roughing up. Killing people, I've been told, is in my genes."

"What happened to your Space Corps career?"

"What happened to your Police Corps career?"

"I deserved that one. I appreciate Carac was your uncle, but he wasn't a nice man... made my life hell. Your father is from a different bloodline."

Brell examined Katey sitting on her own, in obvious pain, in a shithole of a building. This wasn't a time for sentiment. "Look, I have to report where you are. I can't let you go, you know that. Not after numerous officers were murdered. You'll have plenty of time to tell us about the Tinker's empire and the Locardum."

"I know," Katey said. "However, I will be leaving, whether you get in my way or not."

"Agent Lottie, call in the Corps," Brell said, her voice strong.

" _Acknowledged,"_ Lottie said.

On seeing Katey kneel, Brell stepped sideways towards the door. As she turned back, her shoulders dropped.

Katey was holding a laser pistol, an old-fashioned one, perhaps bought secretly. Advertising lights from outside the window and across the street blinked on and off across her face.

Wiping her mouth again with a sleeve, Katey said, "Stand away from the door."

A laser bolt burned into the floor near Brell's foot, close enough for her to feel the heat and to check her foot remained intact. A hard punch to her head knocked her onto her knees.

Katey stood over her. "Move. Do I have to use this?"

Taking a defensive position, Brell crawled backwards, watching Katey keep the pistol in line with her head.

" _Knock, knock. Have you seen my master key? Do you need the services of a tidy bot?"_

Seeing Katey's confusion, Brell jumped forward, grabbing at her calves.

P-zoop.

A small hole erupted in the far wall.

Brell's actions jolted her arm, making Katey instinctively pull the trigger. Holding onto Katey's legs, Brell felt a hard thump on the top of her head from the butt of the laser pistol. Shocked, she released her grip.

Grovelling on the floor, with everything aching, she watched Katey step towards the door, her face flushed. Silently she raised the pistol towards Brell's head. Katey tightened her jaw as a finger caressed the trigger. They locked eyes.

Brell stared at her. A young woman with the weight of family honour on her shoulders, the choice of life or death reduced to the twitch of a finger. Time stopped. No breathing, no noise, silence ... waiting for the inevitable.

Without speaking, Katey relaxed her shoulders, lowered the pistol, and reached for the door.

Pushing upwards, Brell half kneeled and grabbed at the weapon, which she twisted out of Katey's grip.

Staggering backwards as she stood up, Brell glanced at the weapon's settings. "Stand back."

With a hand on the door release, Katey hesitated.

"The Corps are on the way. Stand back," Brell said, standing firmly.

Aware she held an antique laser pistol, she quickly rotated a dial to the low stun setting, glancing between the weapon and Katey.

Katey tensed and grabbed the door to pull it open.

Pointing the weapon at Katey's legs, Brell fired, her intention to incapacitate Katey until the Corps arrived.

_Bang_.

Instead of shooting Katey, Brell felt an intense pain in her stomach as a blue cloud of acrid smoke billowed from the pistol. Clutching herself, she saw Katey disappearing through the doorway, her mind blurring with pain and shock as she fell to the floor. There was intense pain, like an electrical jolt had zapped inside her, somewhere near her stomach. She rolled into a foetal position.

" _Brell, the Corps are on their way."_

Lottie's voice sounded distant and fading.

### Chapter 29 – It was tough

Katey ate crispy vegetables and drank water whilst examining the cockpit screens. Sitting back, rubbing her eyes, she wiggled her toes. After the laser weapon had exploded into Brell's stomach, she'd made an escape via the roof, it being only one floor above her room. With aching limbs, she'd stepped carefully across the low-walled boundaries of several buildings before taking a builder's elevator to the ground. Slipping away was easy given the number of Corps officers descending on the hostel; it was their boss's girlfriend after all. Their investigation into the whereabouts of a female gang member was suspended for the time being.

Fighting with Brell had changed her assessment of her. Tough, single-minded, her Police Corps experience evident, not someone to be underestimated, as her uncle had done. Despite what her mother had ground into her, she admired Brell's strength against adversity during her life, and of her determination to find the Locardum. Something which had made Katey hesitate on the trigger.

She checked her craft's systems – no problems or annoying faults. The craft's identity scrambler, as supplied by an unknowing Tinker, worked well. Parked within a local space park, not a commercial one, all she needed to do was take off at the same time as a bunch of locals.

Contacting her systems in the basement back home, a message popped up from one of the logic queries set up to laboriously search galaxy databases. One of the craft listed on the information Katey had obtained from the silo raid threw up a "hit". Visiting Non-Association planet Kaznac via a long obscure route, it had used forged craft and pilot identities at every port. Only a snippet of the last departure log existed, stating the craft's intended destination to be the "West-Central Farmlands protectorate". No later locations were recorded.

She was glad to have found out now, after the torture, otherwise she would have told them everything. She let out a long breath. At last something useful.

After a long wait for a connection, her mother's image appeared, standing in the kitchen, a smoke weed dangling from her lips.

"Got anything?"

"You saw the news beams of the Police Corps massacre?" Katey began.

"Yes."

"What they didn't say is that the laser weapon utilised a piece of Locardum. Two blasts were enough to take out a police transporter and the officers inside."

"Tinker has the Locardum?"

"Uncle Carac gave him a sample to show he had genuinely found the ore. The weapon test means Locardum is worth much more than we thought. Think of what the crime lords would pay and what we could do with the farm."

"Yes, are we any closer?"

"There's a high chance it's on Kaznac, Non-Assoc. A dangerous place but more orderly than other Non-Assocs. Logs shows a flight to the Farmlands area."

"What are you waiting for?"

"I'm on the run now from the Tinker and Police Corps. I was tortured by the Tinker's people."

"You gave away information?"

"It was tough, Momma. Didn't think I would make it ... got a lucky break. Police Corps raided the building. Tinker knows my identity."

"You survived it though, didn't you."

"Yes, but I needed to recover first. I could hardly walk. Plus I had to wait until the search for me and the others went cold. I'm departing very soon, Momma. Listen, Brell Sturlach found my room and we fought. She told me she's after the Locardum as well."

"Why didn't you kill her?"

"Momma, please. The laser pistol was faulty. It was all I could get. Police Corps were on the way. I had to run."

"Your uncle Carac will not rest in his grave until she is dead."

"I know, Momma, I know. But she may be useful to us."

"Well that's on your head," her mother said, pointing a finger towards Katey.

"Well, get on with it then. You have enough identities, don't you?" she continued.

"I won't be able to come home. You may get Tinker's lot or the Corps sniffing around, looking for me again. Can you ensure there's no interruption of power to my basement? I need it for research and communication."

"Okay. Contact me when you have the ore."

"See you," Katey said, waving just as the stream disconnected.

Reaching down, she ran a hand over her feet, grateful to be out of her boots. Much of her body's sensitivity was returning to normal, though certain parts still ached. The thought of now having to constantly look over her shoulder and change identity made her feel tired. She would rest for a while, eat high-energy food and pilot the craft in a slow, methodical manner.

Pulling at the top of her shirt, she sniffed, promising herself a proper hot shower and relaxation once she arrived at her next destination. Perhaps rent another cuddle bot.

Her oath of chastity and loyalty to the farm weighed heavy on her. Who would know if she transgressed with a real man or a pleasure bot? Mother would find out somehow, plus Katey knew she couldn't hide it from her. Her inheritance, farmstead, everything, gone right there.

As tempting as it was to hire a male pleasure bot, it could lead to problems. Gossip streams had gone into overdrive when an old school friend, frustrated with her husband, ran off with a pleasure bot. After selling their beloved farm, her parents moved away, such was the embarrassment.

She would make do with "tripping the switch". Thinking about the phrase took her straight back to her first night in Space Corps a few years ago. After a day full of administration and boring regulations, she found a bunk bed in a dormitory shared with seven other women. With her strict farm upbringing, Katey was naïve in worldly matters. Later in the evening, a female instructor marched in and shouted at everyone for no apparent reason.

Standing by the door, she said. "Time for lights out. I've tripped the switch, so they won't come on until reveille at zero six zero zero hours. Welcome to Space Corps."

After due silence and rustling, the woman in the bunk above started laughing and leant her head over to talk to Katey.

"Does she know what she said?"

Unsure, Katey remained silent.

"You know. 'I've tripped the switch'..." she said, mimicking the instructor's deep voice. "Don't think she's up on current slang."

A giggle erupted from the others, then stopped due to concerns that they'd made too much noise.

"Girls, I'm going to trip the switch, to see if I can make the lights come back on. Welcome to Space Corps," she said in a near perfect rendition of the instructor.

Katey, unsure of what was being talked about, felt the bunk above her shake rhythmically. A few minutes later, after a stifled gasp, it stopped. Katey realised her education away from the farm was only just starting.

"Tripping the switch" became the dormitory's in-joke saying for the remainder of the course.

### Chapter 30 – Meltdown

Staffed with overworked bots and hard-bodied holo assistants, the medical centre dealt with a yearly rise in fights, woundings, and overdose cases brought in by hotel workers, but without an increase in funding.

Brell woke, groggy, adjusting her eyes to the location. Vague memories of being a patient in hospital, with visitors, daily routines and doc bot examinations. Lying on a bed within a small room, she could see that the door was wedged open with a used bandage. Her viewpoint through the doorway was of a long hospital corridor, and right outside her door she glimpsed a person wearing a uniform.

Someone limped along, followed by a wheeled medical bot which kept veering into the side wall before bumping back onto its route. A smell of antiseptic pervaded her room, bringing her back to her senses. As she moved her hand, she realised various sensors were attached to it. She was aching all over, and her stomach felt like it had been repeatedly punched.

She watched a slow-rolling bot trundle up, hit the doorframe, reverse, then enter her room. It had scuffed side protection bars and peeling paint, but at least the medical arms appeared to be working. Stopping next to the bed, it extended upwards until it was in line with Brell's face. A pixelated face appeared on the doc bot's "face", its mouth out of synch with the speech.

"Doc check. Check. Doc check," it said, its voice stuttering.

Brell leant on an elbow. "Hello, Doctor."

"Doc check. You have intermediate insurance cover. You have received an internal trauma." An arm extended outwards, attempting to connect with Brell's sensors, but it pressed her leg. Picking up the arm, she placed it in the correct position.

"Vital signs are within range. You need to rest." The bot extended an arm and a spray hissed onto her arm.

"Thanks, Doc. Nothing but a bit of bruising then."

"Your ovaries have been destroyed because of a fragmented laser conductor. The rest we patched up. Otherwise, all is good. Have a nice day. Sleep well." With a smiley face, the head section lowered itself and the bot rolled out into the corridor, having screeched its wheels along the side of the door.

She pulled herself back onto the pillows. Had she heard correctly? Her ovaries ... but that can't be right, it was just a hand fight. No. She recalled the blue smoke, the intense pain. Katey's weapon had malfunctioned. A fragment of the laser's conductor could have pierced her stomach and released its charge inside. It was a known risk with older weapons.

Putting fingers on her stomach, she caressed the operation marks of ridged skin.

If her ovaries had been destroyed, it obviously meant no natural conception, not having saved a copy of them. Work, prison, or starting the business set her mind on other things. How much more could she regret the termination a few years back for the sake of her career? Sansa – a girl it would have been. All those hopeful talks with Gorst – gone. She blinked away tears, not knowing what to think. Must be a mistake.

As an unconscious drug overdose case was wheeled onto the ward, Brell lay back, alone, fighting but welcoming the induced sleep.

***

"So, we received a message from your 'Special Agent' as to your whereabouts. I've put a Corpsman on the door. Now I have a few questions for you," Gorst said, hands on his knees, sitting next to Brell's bed. "This is the first time you've been awake long enough to talk. What happened?"

"All in good time. How is everything?" Brell said.

"Fine. No more weapon attacks. Things are easing off." He paused. "You have a Special Agent?"

"First, it's my robotic assistant ... um, provided by the studios. You know, ensures I get to studio meetings and interviews. Has an overactive imagination. The bot can check systems and it saw someone like the woman gang member. I just went to the hostel on the off chance of seeing her," Brell said, aware it sounded hollow.

"And you lost her? There's also something about demanding to see a hostel register and impersonating a Corps officer?"

She scratched her chin. It had all gone wrong, but she'd learnt things about Locardum.

"Yes, I confess. You were busy, and I fancied doing some old-fashioned detective work. I was going to find her and contact you, but she arrived back to her room early. We fought, and a faulty vintage laser which I took off her exploded on me. I found out she was at the wharf in the gang working for the Tinker. They were trying out a prototype weapon."

Not that bad an answer – virtually the truth – which should be enough to salve her conscious, for now.

"Okay, well, in typical Police Corps fashion, it would be good if you put a report together so our detectives can work on it and I can smooth things over with the locals."

Gorst twisted his lips, seeming uncertain over Brell's account. "Is there anything else that you're involved in that I should know about?"

Brell took a sip of water.

"There's one other thing. I received an internal injury. Gorst, my ovaries have been destroyed. I can't give birth naturally. I didn't copy them ... you know, with everything. I'm not using someone else's." She wiped her eyes.

"We can get a birth pool baby. It's still ours. A boy or a girl, we could adjust its addiction traits if it's a worry? We could combine it with a holiday to a pleasure moon. I've got a bonus coming, and you'll have credit payments from the programme."

She made no reply.

"We can adopt. A girl or boy from Celeste."

Continuing with her silence, she felt Gorst holding her rather tightly, being no good at small talk. She knew what he meant and his intentions were always sincere.

She pulled back from his embrace. "Let me think about it. It's still a shock, and I need time. A boy, though, not a girl – Sansa, you know. Regrets," Brell said, wiping her nose.

"Okay. But don't, you know, do anything you might regret."

"What? Intox, or a bit of Deep Yellow?"

"You know what I mean. You've come this far, done so well."

"I know, I know. I'm to be discharged later, which is good because I have to get back to Elytia. The challenge, is – Oh no, frigging crap! It's starting soon. Have I lost a day?"

"It starts in" – he checked his chronometer – "about thirty-two hours. You've been in and out of consciousness for nearly three days."

"Frag me, I'll miss it. Crap, my contract will be cancelled. Frig frag, the frackfucking thing! I won't get there in time," Brell said, realising like a long-lost memory that Scrivvens needed her security clearance to get inside the studios.

Gorst turned his head to check nobody could hear Brell's swearing.

***

Once she'd been discharged, Brell rode back to the hotel with Gorst. After a long embrace, she walked reluctantly into the hotel foyer. Before going upstairs, she visited the hotel shop.

"How are you," Lottie said, her voice sounding concerned. She was wearing real clothes, in the same style as her previous apartment self.

Behind her, banks of screens displayed various street views from where she'd tracked Brell's journey back to the hotel.

"Fine, just fine," Brell said, opening a large bottle of clear spirit intox.

She closed her eyes, smelled the neck, and took a large swig.

"Ah that's better," she said as she wiped her mouth.

"Do you want help with anything?" Lottie said, staring at the bottle top being tossed across the room.

After another glug, Brell flopped onto the settee.

"Need to talk?"

Brell shook her head.

"Are we leaving to go to Elytia?" Lottie said.

"We can't make it now. Might as well go in the morning."

The bottle went to her lips again.

"Brell, you asked me to say something to you about drinking intox."

She shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, I'm asking you to stop drinking. I can send a message to Captain Gorst or anyone else."

"Lottie, I want to be left alone. Disappear, poof. Go and recharge. That's an order. And turn off those fragging screens."

Lottie did as she was asked and vanished into the kitchen.

Standing up, Brell drank, stripped off all her clothes, and fought with the sleeves of a bathrobe before pulling it over her shoulders. The feeling of intox taking hold felt wonderful – it had been a long time. As she relaxed, her worries evaporated: the fight, the laser pistol, her injuries all minimised now – numbed.

She stretched her arms and dropped the bottle, which rolled along the floor. Her legs quivered as the intox rushed through her veins.

She brought her fists up into a fighting position; her feet couldn't keep still.

"Lottie, come here," she said, slurring her words. "Come here."

Lottie chose not to walk too near.

"Come on, come on. Time for a fight." Brell tottered, eyelids half closed, and started to punch the air. "Come on."

"Brell, you're drunk and want to fight. I must do something. Call a doctor or Captain Gorst."

"Don't you dare, Lottie, my old robotic device," Brell said, barely able to pronounce her words.

Taking off and folding her jacket, Lottie stood ready, hands up, boxer-style. The spectacle of a drunk Brell staggering and swaying as she tried to fight Lottie would have been an Association smash if captured on camera. Brell managed to punch the air as Lottie dodged the blows, not landing any herself.

The amount of intox consumed in a short period by a recovering addict hit its peak at about the time Brell swung for Lottie. Missing, she followed through, falling onto the settee. As she bounced off, gravity took her to the floor, where she rolled over, ending up with her arms outstretched, her bathrobe open, legs apart, asleep.

Standing looking down at Brell, hands on hips, Lottie shook her head.

"What are we going to do with you, Miss Sturlach?"

### Chapter 31 – Spinney

Brell focussed on the face staring at her.

Surrounded with spikey blonde hair, the face smiled. "It's me, Spinney," a teenage girl's voice said.

Lethargically, Brell propped herself up on an elbow.

"Spinney, where am I?" Brell said.

"On board the _Lulu_. Here, drink this, Mum said it will perk you up." Spinney held out a small cup.

"Wow, crap, what is this?" Brell said after downing the drink in one go.

"Something to get you up."

"Spinney. I can feel the ship is on cruise drive ... where are we?"

"About halfway back to Elytia." Spinney scooped hair out of her eyes.

"Your mum is piloting, I suppose?"

"Yes, with Lottie. Though Mum has made a few changes." Spinney poked her tongue out whilst looking at the far wall.

"Well let's go and have a look."

Walking into the cockpit, Brell felt the soothing and reassuring engine vibration under her feet. Seeing the vision in front of her, she held onto a locker.

Wanda was sitting in the main pilot's seat, her feet up on the edge of a console, puffing on a smoke tube. Holo control screens complemented the darkness of deep space through the windscreen. Rhythmic beat music was playing.

In the co-pilot's seat was a muscular male with a deep tan and short blonde hair, wearing a leather jacket and tight white trunks.

"Aren't we all cosy here," Brell said, her throat feeling rough.

Wanda turned her head. "Well, well, the fairy princess has woken up." She carefully extracted her bulk from the seat.

They hugged.

Brell nodded towards the co-pilot. "So, do we need to be introduced?"

"Leonardo, say hello to Brell."

"Hello, madam," he said in a deep and melodic voice.

Brell looked into his eyes. Was there a bit of Lottie there?

Spinney put her arm around her mother's waist.

"Wanda, please bring me up to speed. I can't remember what's happened. And I presume I've missed the second challenge. Boom, another career gone."

"It's not all it seems," Wanda said, winking at her.

"Spinney, as Brell is up, I think it's best if you get some sleep, honey."

Not wanting to miss an adult conversation, she didn't move.

"Spinney, I'm sure you'll need your rest to help land this crate," Brell said, rubbing the top of Spinney's head.

Putting a thumb up, Spinney smiled and returned to the bedroom.

"She's a good girl."

"What does she think of Leonardo?"

Wanda laughed. "It's the fault of your assistant, Lottie. She listed some suggestions. He ... she ... commands the vehicle like a pro. All I have to do is stare out of the window or at him."

"Good to see you, Wanda. I need to visit the bathroom, tidy up, get a stimulant drink. Then you can tell me what has happened and what I've done this time."

***

Fully awake, Brell sat in the co-pilot's seat. "Well, I've blown my contract. Did anyone make contact with the studio?"

"You need to thank Spinney for saving your arse."

"Eh?"

"Whilst you slept, Spinney suggested Lottie could impersonate you, so she streamed a camera piece for the studios. She explained why she – you – would miss the show, then gave your top tips on the challengers most likely to win."

"I need another drink."

With another hot spicy drink in hand, she looked in on Spinney, who lay under the bedclothes, hair poking out but asleep.

"Can I see those streams?"

"Sure." She flicked a finger and a smiling Brell filled the screen.

"I'm currently heading back to Elytia but sadly I'll miss the challenge. I rushed to be with my partner, a Police Corps captain, after he was shot during a gangland shootout. Thankfully, he's healing well and back at work protecting the local community from further attacks. I will be viewing the show on board my freighter and sending live updates." She winked at the camera. Finishing with a wave, she finally said, "I look forward to being back with you all for the final challenge. See you soon."

"Winking and waving?" Brell said, throwing her hands up in the air.

"At least we made you smile. Don't be too harsh. Spinney was involved in the script."

"Oh for frig's sake." Brell paced up and down behind the pilots' seats. "Did they buy it?"

"Yes, they loved it. Brought a little real-world danger to the proceedings. Handsome captain, in a gunfight, partner travels to assist him. He lives, all is well." Wanda lit up a smoke. "What did you want? Brell can't be with you, she went on an intox bender and was found laid out on the floor. After being cleaned up, she was wheeled on board her craft on a medical trolley." She paused, waiting for a response.

Brell scratched the back of her head. "I'm going for a shower."

"I'd read your messages first. Your boss has been in touch, a lot. You may want to view them on your own in the galley." Wanda softened her voice. "Also, auto chef is not able to dispense intox. Lottie's idea."

***

"Brell. Hope you're well since your injury. Sorry to hear about it. I had to abort Scrivvens' attempt to get Mayleth out. We needed you there personally. He was in the process of scoping out the building, and as far as we know, he wasn't discovered. All other avenues, legal or otherwise, exhausted, Mayleth has to take part in the challenge." Brune's face was a mixture of concern and annoyance. The message had been sent a few hours ago.

Without thinking, Brell ordered a large intox drink.

The auto chef buzzed three times.

"Told you," Wanda's voice shouted out.

"Brell, you fragging idiot." She ran her hands through her hair. Wiping her eyes, she played messages of support from Gorst. The first one explained about how Special Agent Lottie alerted him and suggested he contact Wanda. What must he have thought of Wanda?

After drinking another stimulant, she decided it was time to make a live call to Brune. Reluctantly, she opened up a holo comms screen. The encryption, together with her craft's position in deep space, meant it took a while for a positive stream to connect.

He appeared on screen, dressed in casual clothing as if at home.

"Brell?" he said.

"Brune, I've behaved like a complete ass. I don't know what to do or say," Brell said slowly.

"It was the only chance we had. We just have to hope she gets through."

"What do you want me to do?"

"We'll see how it plays out. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I hope the Tinker can bribe someone. If she survives we'll sort out a better plan."

"Yeah, let's wait for a criminal gang chief to help us out and save the Association," Brell said, unsure how her comment sounded. She changed the subject. "How did my favourite deputy react?"

"Best if I don't tell you. Let's keep calm, see what happens, and take it from there."

"So I'll see you and Scrivvens on a far-flung planet soon, working as security on a nightclub door? It's not funny, I shouldn't joke about it. Sorry, the prison thing is like a huge cloud of uncertainty. You heard about my medical news?"

"Yes, I'm aware, but these days there are plenty of options. Imagine a little Brell and Gorst running about? One half would do what it's told," he said.

"I deserved that. But yes, we have talked about other options, when the Mayleth situation is finished."

"What's done is done. We need you fit and well. The old Brell. You know what I mean." Brune glanced to one side. "Supper's ready. Be in touch after the challenge. Look after yourself."

At least he hadn't given up on her, yet.

### Chapter 32 – Challengers get ready

"How long?" Wanda shouted towards Brell's cabin.

"Ten minutes," Spinney shouted out, settling herself on the bed with a large bowl of munchies resting between her legs.

Scooting up next to her, Brell grabbed a handful of snacks.

"Who do you want to win then, Spinney?"

Spinney glanced up. "Have you been crying?"

"Just a bit tired. Who's your favourite?"

Thinking, she said. "Um, Bhoja, the female soldier."

"What about Mayleth?"

"Nah, too old."

"Fair enough. By the way, I've got the stream set to 'teen' version."

"Okay. Mum does that as well."

"Does she watch it much?"

"She did, when you were on it. Now, not so much."

"Here we are." Brell turned up the sound.

" _Eight challengers left, only four will survive. Tonight we have a treat for you – they are all on glide scooters. The rules are simple: no exit doors, just survival. After thirty minutes there will be a break, after which our exterminators will be set loose. First, it's over to Lexi to show you the arena."_

Lexi stood on the ground floor of the studio. Converted into a network of lanes and glideways, it was set on the same three floors used in the first challenge. A spiral ramp connected the floors, and, additionally, a tunnel had been created which led to a large outside area. With sand dunes and low-level buildings, the area gave plenty of places for a deadly version of hide and seek.

"This is the starting grid. The scooter bikes are all lined up ready for our challengers." She ran her hand over the handlebars. "Basic in design but it packs a punch." Staring into the camera, she pointed to the front of the machine. "Here you can see the barrel of a small-calibre laser rifle, one facing forward and there's one at the back."

Cocking a leg over the seat, she held the handlebars. "Let's see how the scooter works."

"Her skirt is a bit short. Not the best for riding a scooter," Spinney said, poking out her tongue.

Brell put a hand up in front of Spinney's eyes. "Not for young ladies to see."

Spinney pulled the hand down. "I'm not that young."

"It has a simple twist throttle on the right-hand side and a thumb lever for brakes on the left. Two buttons next to the throttle fire the front and rear laser rifles. Weapons will be activated five minutes into the challenge to allow the challengers time to get used to the scooters. Now, let's start her up."

As Lexi pressed the start button, the lightweight beam engine lifted the scooter off the ground to float half a metre off the floor. Placing her feet on the footrests, she twisted the throttle, the engine whining as the scooter slowly glided off. By leaning her weight and using the handlebars, she easily negotiated the street's curves and turns. Bringing it to a stop, she kept the engine running.

"Great fun, I haven't been on one of these for a while. The laser rifles are in a fixed position so need careful aiming."

Brell hoped the Tinker could influence the race somehow, but she saw there was little involvement with production staff, such as the previous manipulation of exit door numbers.

After whizzing along the track for a short while, Lexi stopped. "Here's a side street area where spare scooters have been placed just in case there are any accidents."

Taking off again, she ended back at the starting position. A production assistant ran out to take hold of the bike, to return it to its position on the starting grid. As Lexi stepped slowly off the scooter, Spinney put a hand over Brell's eyes.

"Here we are back at the start. The challengers will line up soon. So there you have it, Theo. Challenge two is certainly going to be fun to watch."

"Thanks, Lexi. Remember, the first round lasts thirty minutes, and after a break the exterminators take to the arena until four convicts remain."

During the commercial break, Brell reflected on her conversation with Brune. Was there anyone she hadn't let down? Rubbing her face, she shifted her backside a little, putting a hand to her stomach. If Mayleth didn't get through, she might as well fly to the outer rim of the galaxy for the next ten years.

Spinney elbowed her. "It's starting."

***

"Challengers standby," Theo said.

The eight challengers sat on their identical scooters, spaced in four rows, hovering above the ground. Wearing shorts and plain black T-shirts with their names emblazoned on the back, their boots provided the only protection. A remote device operated by the production team disengaged the scooter's gears until the start signal.

Once the hovering scooter steadied itself, Mayleth adjusted her sitting position. With feet comfortably placed on the footrests, she crouched, waiting for the signal.

"Hey, old woman. You're going to get a rocket straight up your duffer," Klak said, shouting loudly from behind.

Ignoring the jibe, she concentrated on the track ahead. Her stomach churned, the taste of a milky stimulant still on her tongue. Focussing on getting comfortable, she blanked out the noise of eight scooter engines. The distinctive smell of warm engines and the sight of the guards made the situation surreal. The challenger in front fidgeted continually, his machine lolling sideways.

At least she had previous experience of riding scooters. Yesterday, when told that AG scooters would be available, she'd swung from abject depression to thinking back to happier times with her brother, before his gambling addiction. Since childhood, they'd often rode AG scooters, playing find and chase in the private forests on Elytia. She always won. At least it was something.

"Get ready ... five, four, three, two, one, go!" A loud boom sounded.

After twisting the accelerator, Mayleth immediately let it go to prevent bumping into the person in front. Klak drove straight into her, jerking her neck. Gathering herself, she took it steady until the track widened, then rode over to an inside lane. Two challengers crashed in the chaotic start and stood toe to toe fighting each other in the middle of the track.

" _It's ding-dong time already. Klak and Pagla are going at it punch for punch."_

Slowing, Mayleth watched others drive past, intent on getting into the tunnel. Veering off, she drove up a ramp to the next level. No one followed her. Relaxing fractionally into her seat, she started to gain confidence in the bike.

Her old skills came back to her as she leaned her weight at the right time, to bank and curve with the track. Speeding along, she noticed various halt points, spare scooters, and walls which could obscure a rider. After travelling to the top level, she idled the motor, listening for others. Hearing an engine accelerating on the floor below, she settled behind a high wall. Leaning forward, she could see who came up the ramp.

" _Weapons are live,"_ the commentator said, eagerly, for the benefit of the challengers.

Rubbing her thumb gently over the fire buttons, she rehearsed the movement. Should she hide and wait for the others to fire at each other? If she hid for the first round, the exterminators would head straight for her hiding place, having watched events backstage. Being chased and getting into a firefight didn't seem a good option either.

Though quiet behind the wall, Mayleth heard zaps and crashes coming from the level below.

" _Zap. Wow, Mkalma has felt the full force of a laser. Ladies and gentlemen, Mkalma has gone to meet her maker."_

One out already. Her upbeat thoughts changed as engine noises roared up to her level. The first bike, ridden by Klak, travelled so fast that he pulled urgently at the handlebars, narrowly avoiding a wall. He headed away from Mayleth, followed the circuit, and drove down the ramp.

Another scooter appeared, slower, cautious. Mayleth caught a glimpse of Nesta astride it, hair flowing, toned arms glistening with sweat.

Nesta drifted out of Mayleth's sight, accelerating away, the sound immediately replaced by yet another scooter entering the floor. A game of hide and seek, but not the friendly ones with her brother. She loosened her grip, not wanting to make any unnecessary movements.

Apart from her breathing, and the AG engine ticking over, a small burst of acceleration sounded from the other side of the wall. She leant her head near to the wall. Distant whoops of excitement made her lose concentration. Footsteps, running footsteps. Mayleth twisted her head. Ugga was running towards her.

Sweaty hands grasped at her back and arm. Reacting automatically, she accelerated, the forward force nearly unseating her. Ploughing towards the outer wall, she shifted her weight and dipped the throttle. Sticking out an outstretched right boot, she scraped it along the wall, enabling her to keep upright.

Bringing the bike into the centre of the floor and not keen to look back, she manoeuvred left and right in an attempt to throw off Ugga.

P-zap.

A plume of blue flame smacked into a pillar. Riding through the smoke, she veered to her left to make a long right-hand curve, bringing her in line with a down ramp. The tactic also meant Ugga would have difficulty lining up for another shot. Feeling fully in command of her scooter, she made a perfect manoeuvre and entered the ramp. The problem was, where to go next?

Perhaps it was time to face the others.

***

"Hey, you're squeezing my hand," Spinney said.

"Sorry, Spinney. Getting a bit carried away."

"The old woman is doing well. She's ridden a scooter before, I can tell."

"Really?"

"Yup, been on one myself. As for Klak, he looks like this is his first time. He's wobbling all over the place."

"Well, Mkalma has gone, poof, lasered before she knew it. How's your favourite doing?"

"Still in the game," Spinney said, mimicking a deep voice from a recent commercial.

Fifteen years old, with life and adventures ahead of her. Brell hoped she wouldn't have too many failures and disappointments.

Brell's face dropped.

Mayleth was heading to the bottom floor and into the maelstrom.

### Chapter 33 – Twist the accelerator

The Tinker farted as he shuffled from the privy back towards his chair. "Stomach cramping up again, Regg. When this crap is over, call the doc will you? I need more medicine or something," he said as he belched.

"You know, Regg, things were simpler in the early days – cracking heads, threats, a bit of torture. Now it's too complicated, with technology taking over and more planets joining the Association, people using bots for everything, virtual assistants for making decisions. People will be obsolete."

"I agree, sir. But there will always be opportunities for crime."

"True, Regg, true. Now, let's get back to this challenge. See if Smiler has influenced the right people."

***

Apart from the lack of air, the area smelled of burnt flesh, laser discharge and fried fuel cells. Mayleth noticed two things: the sight of a scooter zipping out through the tunnel and a charred body less than two metres away. After avoiding the corpse, she slowed. A glance verified that no one was in the immediate area. To her knowledge, one challenger had died – she vaguely recalled the commentator, so intense was her concentration.

Positioning herself at the end of the arena opposite the tunnel, she tried to relax her shoulders. From her position, she gazed along the main track, past the starting point, towards the tunnel entrance.

Two scooters zoomed through the tunnel directly towards her. Transfixed and stunned, she didn't react. The front scooter, ridden by Huilette, whose gentle face belied the violence he was capable of, swerved unexpectedly to one side, leaving the slow-reacting Klak still accelerating forward. Mayleth saw his disappointment, and then she saw his eyes widening as he realised she was in his line of sight, a prize for the taking.

Unable to react, she tensed, waiting for the laser bolt. None came. In a moment of realisation, she twisted the accelerator.

Bang.

She'd been too slow to react, and though saving her right leg from serious injury, the impact of Klak's bike caused hers to pivot around, toppling her over. The top of her arm scraped on the ground as she landed heavily on a shoulder. Lying still, concussed, she became aware that her scooter had received significant damage. The front half lay intact on the ground, whilst the rear consisted of a crumpled mass of plas-steel framework and engine parts.

Aware of Klak's body stirring, she rolled onto her side, wondering how to get away from him. His weight would break her slim body like a twig.

Managing to get into a standing position, she held her shoulder. Klak brushed metallic shards from his arms and shook his head upon realising Mayleth wasn't far away.

"Ha, ha. Klak happy now," he said, putting his arms out, ready to give Mayleth a bear hug.

Uncertain, her head ringing, he closed in on her, filling her field of vision. As a defence mechanism, she kicked out, connecting with something soft.

"Me knackers!" Klak doubled over, holding his groin with both hands.

Mayleth stumbled in the direction of the front section of her bike.

Klak stood up and wiped his eyes, grinning on seeing Mayleth. "It's busted. No getting away from me, old woman." He grabbed his groin. "It won't take long. Klak savour the moment. Klak be nice to you."

Scrabbling behind the handlebars, Mayleth turned the carcass into a better position as Klak lumbered forward. As she placed a thumb over the fire button, she hoped the energy cells were intact. If it didn't work, it would be a race to a spare scooter, one which an enraged Klak would win.

"Pity we couldn't have got to know each other more. I would have liked to have—"

_P-zap_.

A laser bolt flew straight into Klak's knee. In a haze of a laser charge, he collapsed, hands barely able to stop himself clattering face first to the ground. Bewildered, he tilted his head, his gaze falling on Mayleth, aware of his defeat.

Bucking in recoil, Mayleth turned the bike and lined up the rifle for a second shot.

_P-zap_.

Klak's head burst into a mass of blue flame, smoke mixing with flesh particles. Mayleth flinched from the heat and shock.

" _And Klak has lost his head. Six challengers left. Which two are not going to make it?"_

***

"Wow," Spinney said.

"Wow indeed," Brell said, holding her stomach.

She got up and visited the galley, needing an antacid stomach drink.

"All right? Challenge going okay?" Wanda said.

"Yes. All good," Brell said, walking through the main cabin back into the bedroom. Taking another swig of the mixture, she put her hand to her mouth, burped, and took up her position again.

"Too many snacks," Spinney said.

"Better out than in. How are we doing?"

"She's in trouble again," Spinney said, pointing at the screen.

As Brell watched Mayleth being pursued, she couldn't stop herself from burping again.

"Phew," Spinney said, waving her hand in front of her face. "It's only a challenge show. Chill it."

"A deadly one, but thanks for the advice."

***

With no time for celebration, Mayleth felt the whoosh and heat from a laser bolt passing nearby. Limping as fast as she could manage without falling over Klak's remains, she settled behind a pillar. Klak's scooter, though mangled along one side, hovered nearby. The buckled handlebars appeared intact. Jumping astride the seat, she squeezed the throttle as a bolt fizzed nearby. As she set off, the bike kinked right, making Mayleth lean over to travel in a straight line. Bhoja, who Mayleth believed had just shot at her, watched in surprise as she raced past.

Making it to the up-ramp, she looked across. From their body outlines, it appeared Pagla was chasing Huilette.

Bobbing and spluttering, her scooter started to run out of power. Ditching it, she strode across the floor and found a spare bike. As she got her breath back, she recalled from memory that two challengers had died. She had no idea how much time remained.

" _Challengers, you have five minutes until the break. After which, we release the exterminators,"_ the commentator said.

She manoeuvred the bike to a far corner and waited.

***

"Looks like they've given up," Spinney said.

"They're waiting for the break, I think."

"Hmm."

"There are six left, four go through. If they stay out of the way, the exterminators will do the work for them."

"Or go out fighting, all lasers blazing. Bam, bam." Spinney mimicked firing at the screen with her fingers.

" _And there it is. Six challengers have made it through to the final session. It's time to patch them up and draw breath. Get your bets in. When we return, it will be time for the exterminators,"_ the commentator said excitedly.

"We have twenty minutes," Brell said.

"Do you want more snacks, a drink, or something for your stomach gas?"

"Yes, all of it," Brell said, reaching for her personal cube.

She sent a zap to Brune.

Mayleth doing well. Has proficient scooter skills at least.

_Agree with you. Let's hope she gets lucky,_ Brune replied.

She sent a few zaps to one of the studio producers, hoping they might read them out to keep her involved in the programme.

Getting off the bed, she wandered out to see Wanda and stretch her legs.

"How is it going?" Wanda said.

"On a break. Six left – the exterminators are due to appear."

"You look like crap."

"Thanks, Wanda. Been a tiring time with Gorst and all the medical things."

"Sure there's not something else bothering you?"

Brell pulled at her nose. "No, just feel stupid for missing it."

Wanda held her gaze. "Okay, honey." She went back to examining the consoles.

Brell lit up a smoke tube in the privy, threw water on her face, and returned to the bedroom, a hand on her stomach.

"All set," Spinney said. She was sitting in the same place on the bed with a refilled bowl of snacks. "Got you another milk thing, for your wind."

"Thanks," Brell said pushing up onto the bed. "So, when are you going back to school, Spinney?"

"Mum says I can get an education with her in space – piloting, or something similar."

"Any problems at school? Or anything concerning boys by any chance?"

Spinney made no reply.

"Spinney, there's plenty of time for that. I can see that you're blossoming into a proper young woman, but trust me – boys and all that – it's better when you're older."

"Thanks, Brell, sounds better from you than Mum."

"Don't you miss your school friends?"

Spinney hunched her shoulders. "I send friends zap messages during our travels." She gazed at her juice drink.

"How about Space Corps? They're always on the lookout for young talent."

"I suppose ... I have to think about these things," Spinney said, tilting her head.

Sansa would have been a bit younger than Spinney, Brell thought, if she hadn't put her career first. Responsibility, career change, whatever ... it may have helped her overcome her weakness for drink and drugs. What had she learnt? Travelling on _Lulu_ as a passenger, embarrassed at her behaviour, watching a show which could result in her return to prison.

She put an arm around Spinney and they watched the show for a while. Special guests discussed the first session to slow-motion replays, and a couple of Brell's zaps were read out.

"You okay?" Spinney said, placing a hand on top of Brell's.

"Yes, still tired."

"When I feel upset or anything I usually speak to Mum. Why don't you speak to yours?"

"It's complicated."

"Does she not like you?"

"No, it's more than that."

"Do you mean your intox and drug problem?"

"You don't mince your words."

"Well it was all over the news when you were on your challenge. Also, I saw you being brought on board. Why do you drink so much?" Spinney said, looking away.

"I ... er, it's difficult to explain."

"Mum drinks."

"I drank to forget, to make things disappear."

"Don't tell Mum, but I've had some intox. We went round to a boy's place after school with friends. Before you ask, it made me sick. I left early."

"I won't tell, don't worry. Just take it easy. Anyway, it's nice to have friends. I don't have that many now."

"Well, Brell, I'm your friend."

They exchanged glances. Brell smiled, rubbed Spinney's shoulder, blinked back tears.

"Yes, you are. Now, no more questions."

"Okay, if you promise me not to get drunk again." Spinney held out her little finger.

"And you." Brell laughed and they shook on it.

"It's on," Spinney said.

### Chapter 34 – The shooting continues

With six challengers left, Mayleth hunched down ready for the start signal.

Boom.

Accelerating her scooter, she aimed straight up the ramp to the next floor. Grateful for the break, she'd glugged a litre of cool fruit juice. A doc bot gave her a numbing injection for her shoulder and applied healing cream to her arms. Patch them up to die later, wonderful. Unable to think of any tactics for the next round, even killing an opponent didn't register much.

With the first floor clear, she heard the sound of an engine travelling down from the floor above. Must be an exterminator entering from a studio door. She got behind a short length of wall.

Xax stopped nearby. As if receiving instructions, he stared towards Mayleth's position and moved gradually towards her. Riding a beefier scooter than the challengers, additional weapons adorned its front and rear panels. His bulky backside hung over each side of his seat, the throttle the size of a scribe pencil in his large hands. From his unsteady movements, it didn't look like he was a confident rider.

Another challenger appeared on the floor behind him. Mayleth sensed his indecision. Gliding away from the wall, she tilted her body and squeezed her knees in order to face Xax. She closed her eyes and hit the fire button, her scooter bucking slightly.

P-zap.

A blue bolt shot slammed past him. He reacted with surprise and annoyance. Another blast from the other rider made Xax take off to escape. He was supposed to terminate the challengers, not be faced down by them. With Xax zooming across the first floor in a rage, Mayleth twisted the handgrip and drove down to the ground floor.

Various noises and laser bolt sounds emanated from the other end of the tunnel. Unable to decide whether to go outside, the sound of an approaching bike engine made her head for the tunnel. Its walls reflected the whine of her engine as she shielded her eyes upon entering the open air. Perhaps the others felt they had a better chance here than in the claustrophobic indoor levels which she preferred.

Stopping behind a large dune made up of a fake sand-type substance, she stood up to stretch her leg muscles whilst listening for engines. Concerned about staying too long, she then drove on, passing a large wooden shack.

A bike engine roared. She glanced back to see Pagla bearing down on her, leaning over, fist ready for a punch. Panicking, she made the scooter lurch and stutter.

He swiped at her, but missed. Presuming all his missiles were spent, she continued accelerating, choosing to follow the outer wall. Pagla kept up with her, playfully bumping into the rear of her scooter, making her wobble. Mayleth scanned the area ahead and squeezed the brakes hard. As Pagla drove ahead of her, she fired, but the bolt scraped the edge of his bike. Firing again, nothing happened.

As a dune appeared, Mayleth made her move. In a manoeuvre which had always outfoxed her brother, she hung back, swayed across Pagla's rear to aid confusion, and then accelerated alongside. With a flick of the handlebars, she nudged his rear bumper.

She'd timed it perfectly and his bike flipped over with him gripping the handlebars and sliding into the dune. It wasn't sufficient to kill him, but at least he wouldn't be chasing her for a while.

Slowing, she found a building to hide in and get her breath back. Feeling stressed, depressed, and exhausted in equal measure, she also felt satisfaction from getting the upper hand over Pagla. Perhaps she could actually survive through to the next round. But then what?

Hearing a scooter gliding nearby with a deeper engine sound, she readied herself.

Xax appeared, grinning in anticipation of combat.

Riding flat out, Mayleth concentrated on steering to the tunnel. A laser bolt ripped through the air, singeing her hair. She pushed her head down to gain extra speed. Ahead, Sereen chased Nesta towards the tunnel entrance.

Mayleth settled herself and fired the rear rifle whilst wiggling her bike from side to side to present a difficult target. She shouted in pain as another laser bolt twanged into her leg, the hot pain searing her skin.

Catching a quick glance to her rear as she made a turn, the scorch marks on the front of Xax's bike indicated she might have hit him. His face was grim and furious.

She weaved past a squat pyramid shape, the tunnel looming ahead.

Shots came from behind, but not in her direction. Perhaps Xax had found someone else to pursue. Concentrating, she entered the tunnel at speed, riding through a puff of smoke into the middle of the ground floor.

Where next?

A laser smashed into her scooter with a loud percussive sound. The front of her bike disintegrated, tipping her off sideways to roll along the ground.

With difficulty, she scrambled to her knees. Disorientated, she had a vague awareness of engines echoing up from the tunnel. A few metres away, facing her, a female figure sat upright, elbows on handlebars.

Bhoja smiled. No escape. Finished.

Mayleth sat back on her knees, hands on her thighs, and waited.

***

"Brell, are you okay?" Spinney said. "Do you want me to get Mum?"

Unmoved, Brell stared at the screen, clasping her chest. Pale and sweating, she didn't respond.

"Mum," Spinney said, as loud as she could. "Brell's having a heart attack." Spinney jumped off the bed and ran out to the cockpit. "Mum, Brell's having a heart attack."

"Lottie, I want you back now," Wanda said, running into the cabin. "Get the medical kit."

"Shh, out of the way. I'm okay," Brell said, without taking her eyes from the screen.

Spinney jumped onto the bed and held Brell's hand. Lottie stood in the doorway.

" _And Bhoja is going in for the kill,"_ the commentator said, lowering his voice.

There was silence as a close-up showed Bhoja's thumb on the fire button.

An eruption of power slammed into her bike, shuddering it sideways. The soles of her boots protruded from the underside of the bike as it scraped to a halt. Without notice, a second laser bolt fired, spinning scooter parts and Bhoja's body into a mangled mess. Dark blood mixed with leaking fuel cells.

A siren sounded, followed by a brief plume of fireworks. The commentator's voice boomed inside the arena.

" _What an ending, ladies and gentlemen. We didn't see that coming. The last one is down. We have our four winners. Nesta the female assassin, Mayleth the wily old-timer, Huilette the religious murderer and Ugga the sexual predator. Who will win, who deserves to die? Come back in two weeks."_

"Aaaaahhhhhhhh. Get in, you fricking, frackers. Yessss!" Brell stood on the bed punching the air.

Spinney held on to her mother.

"Okay, Brell?" Wanda said, uncertainly.

"Yes, Yes. It's all okay. It's good."

"Brell, can I get you anything?" Lottie said, her voice calm.

"Lottie, I could kiss you," Brell said, calming down a fraction. She let out a long sigh. "Sorry folks. Sorry for swearing. All okay now." She squeezed past the others into the cockpit, unsure what to do with herself.

"Well, excitement over, I'll get back to piloting then," Wanda said.

"I think her favourite got through," Spinney said.

"Was that offer of a kiss real or made up?" Lottie said.

A cup sailed through the air, bonking Lottie on the head.

***

The Tinker felt unwell, the acid burning in his stomach. Talking with Smiler didn't help.

"Yes, Tinker, all sorted. I've paid credits to the mother of one of the female challengers. We also took embarrassing pictures of a production supervisor, who, coincidently, was able to remotely shut off the scooter's rifles," Smiler said, grinning.

Afterwards the Tinker brooded, pulled at his pipe, gulped some medicine, and ate a mini cake. "Regg?"

"Smiler's bribery attempts may have worked as he said. Mayleth was fired at a few times, and nearly killed at the end. She hid herself away and probably her good scooter skills helped her more, actually, sir."

"He probably had an excuse for all the different permutations. Anyway, she got through, that's the main thing. Now, do we have anything from anyone about the location of that Katey or the ore?"

"No, sir."

"I'm not happy, Regg. We're supposed to have this large criminal network and we're fiddling about trying to get info out of single woman who we can't find."

"Yes, sir. I'll keep on the case."

Nodding, the Tinker rubbed his stomach. A still image of Smiler appeared in the middle of his mosaic of screens. "We've been lucky so far, but he's making me ill. At least we have two weeks before the next one. I suppose there's no chance of a new Obliterator being built in time?"

"No, sir, they're having difficulty finding pure enough Locardum."

"Pity. We could use the weapon to blow up the studios and extract her."

"It's a good tactic, but when the Corps find out you're behind it, the ramifications wouldn't be subtle and it would give them an excuse to act. There would be a danger of our main sites being taken out, from which we may not be able to recover."

"I'm reluctant to agree with you, Regg" – the Tinker watched his daughter blowing bubbles at a robo doll which clapped back – "but we are where we are."

"Sir, we can ensure Smiler has a backup plan involving a direct approach."

"Fair enough. On that point, Regg, it's time to remind Smiler about his duty and loyalty."

"Sir, I'll brief Mack."

Making no reply, The Tinker's stomach rumbled loudly.

***

Later, Brell sent zaps to Brune, Gorst, and Scrivvens, and then watched the highlights of the show.

After outrunning Sereen, who rode up to the first floor, Nesta settled by a pillar, choosing not to attack Mayleth. As Bhoja made the mistake of pausing in anticipation of victory, Nesta placed herself in a perfect side-on position. Slow-motion shots of Bhoja showed her facial expression changing from smug triumph to confusion.

Ugga fired at Pagla, blowing out his stomach as he lay helpless on the sand dune having landed badly on his back after Mayleth's manoeuvre. In a moment of commentary silence, Ugga leaned over to watch the life ebb out of Pagla. Once satisfied, he dusted his hands and sat back on his bike.

Upon seeing Bhoja blasted, Mayleth fainted and lay on the ground until she was scooped up by production staff.

Having met the exterminators during various studio meetings, Brell watched their expressions of disappointment and venom in equal measure. They rode around the arena without actually doing their job. She imagined producer Valvin having private meetings with stakeholders to make changes for the final show.

Tired, she fell asleep, Spinney lying next to her.

Ten hours before landing, Lottie woke her up, insisting Wanda should rest. Brell promoted Lottie to captain, aware of the after-effects of drinking intox, and sat in the galley or co-pilot's seat drinking stimulants.

An hour before arrival, Brell put Spinney in the co-pilot's seat, next to her mother, and together they landed the craft, to applause from Brell and Lottie.

It was humbling, Brell thought, to be in the company of people who supported her unconditionally.

### Chapter 35 – To forgotten childhoods

After landing in Elytia, Brell said goodbye to Wanda and Spinney as they checked into a hotel. She then took a glide rail to the apartment with Lottie, and dressed ready for a visit to the studios.

Programme producers accepted her story about visiting Gorst, having viewed the gunfight on a news beam channel. Happy with their decision to keep her employed, she ingratiated herself with various people and conversed with Lexi, who she believed was more intelligent than she let on. After a makeover, she gave a short piece to camera regarding her adventures with Gorst and watching the challenge whilst travelling back to Elytia. Racked with concern for her partner's safety, she was excited about the final challenge.

At least part of it was true.

She spent two days inside the studios. While visiting the stripped-out arena, she gave thoughts and suggestions to set designers regarding the placement of Inhab-47 buildings and props. When walking through the backlot and corridors, she placed one of Scrivvens' special invisible devices on her lapel to record as much as possible. Schematic plans were easy to copy.

In the evening, she outlined tactics and ideas to Lottie for extracting the information from Mayleth's implants. Finally, she tasked Lottie with creating a more digestible overview for Brune and Scrivvens to discuss.

"Certainly, Brell," Lottie said. "How exciting."

As Brell rustled boxes in the office, Lottie said from outside the room, "I've hidden the intox but kept the smokes. Commander Brune's order."

"Fragging bot assistants," Brell said, grabbing a couple of alien smokes.

Lottie stood like an unhappy schoolteacher in the corridor.

"Scrivvens is arriving tomorrow to discuss our ideas. Enough adventure for you?" Brell said.

"Yes."

"Incidentally, he's bringing Delta. Are you aware of her?"

"Yes, we've been contacting each other. I'm looking forward to meeting her in person."

"Oh, that's nice," Brell said, folding her arms.

***

After breakfast, Brell asked Lottie to oversee the cleaning bots preparing a bedroom for Scrivvens.

"Where should we put Delta?" Brell said.

"She'll stay in Inspector Scrivvens' bedroom."

"Does she need a chair or something?"

Lottie tilted her head, smiled, and raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, okay," Brell said slowly. "Well, can you prepare the living room for Brune's live stream? Check external and internal security, including the bots."

"Yes, Brell."

Scrivvens arrived late morning, accompanied by Delta, who was wearing a short blue velvet dress, white blouse, and small matching beret. Her hair trailed over her shoulders as she sashayed into the apartment brushing past Brell and Lottie.

"Welcome, Scrivvens." Brell gave him a hug.

"Thank you for putting us up," he said.

"Inspector, will your friend be staying, shutting down, or going out to turn some tricks?" Lottie said.

"You'll have to excuse Lottie. Since her upgrade she has become more, er, confident?" Brell said.

"Well well, if it isn't old plastic tits. How are your circuits? Dry? You probably need more motion lotion," Delta said, arm on hip.

Lottie smiled and bowed. "It is a pleasure to see you at last, Delta."

"Likewise," Delta said, shaking Lottie's hand and laughing.

"Right, well, now you've been formally introduced, let's show you round," Brell said, uncertain what had taken place.

Once settled in, Scrivvens, Brell, Delta and Lottie sat in the living room, waiting for Brune's stream connection to authenticate.

With Brell's ideas and studio knowledge, Scrivvens' technical knowhow and Lottie's investigation into Mayleth's life, they settled on a single plan of action, together with a fallback strategy. Delta and Lottie agreed that their programming and identities could cope with the extra work demand. Brell contacted Wanda to see if she could pilot the _Lulu_.

"Brune, we've been at it all day, let's have the evening off and check in tomorrow to finalise our plans," Brell said.

"Agreed. Well done. See you tomorrow," Brune said, switching off his stream.

"He looks tired but fairly happy. Think the last challenge and the deputy's threats put a lot of pressure on him. And us," Scrivvens said. His face flashed sorrow, before smiling again.

"It is very high-risk. I've been through all the permutations, and I prefer to go down fighting rather than give in to that wanker Mourge or the Tinker's people." Brell reached for another strong weed smoke. "Now, how about we get out of here, have something to eat, get some fresh air. Strictly no work talk, just two colleagues catching up."

"Make a nice change from Corps food. No work talk from the moment we leave the apartment."

Later, they stepped into the elevator.

"Everything okay with Lottie and Delta?" Scrivvens said.

"Yes, she said something regarding Delta helping her tweak a programme?"

They exchanged glances.

"That'll be Delta showing Lottie how her upgrades can be put to best use," Scrivvens said.

Brell pressed the basement button, shaking her head. "I don't want to know."

***

Sitting in a dark corner of a street café, Smiler sat back and steepled his fingers. With security tightened and staff being chaperoned, getting to Mayleth before the show was virtually impossible. A large-scale assault on the studio buildings during a quiet day would work, but the Tinker seemed to have reservations about it. He was turning into a concerned charity worker, not a crime boss. Perhaps the business tired him. Also, since the failed attempt, he knew the Tinker would employ another team to spy on him.

He needed to change tack, which is why he was sitting in a café monitoring Brell and Scrivvens' movements. Their apartment's systems were impenetrable. There was no chance of getting listening devices or surveillance inside. Both of them had robotic assistants, which in Smiler's mind were only useful for pleasure, utilities, and occasional data storage. He preferred working with people; they could be manipulated.

"More bean brew," he said aloud.

By the time he'd massaged his temples, scraped hair strands over his head, and rubbed his belly, the drink was placed in front of him.

Limited options, indeed, he thought, sipping at the brew. However, something nagged at him, a belief that the blue bitch and the Corps inspector were interested in Mayleth. He'd noticed Scrivvens on his image systems entering the studios before the second challenge, but leaving before it started. Mayleth was interviewed by the blue woman more times than others, often in a cell, with their backs to the cameras.

"Got them, boss. Going into a restaurant, boss." It was the youth's shaky voice. Naïve in one way, but very adept at interrogating security systems.

Throwing his napkin on the table, Smiler hurried outside.

***

Brell tried her best to relax without thinking too much about the risks they were taking. Since her bender, she'd been drinking non-intox beverages. Her newly prescribed medicine helped stave off intox and drug cravings, but her smoking habit increased. Gorst's message earlier regarding his happiness at organising a birthing pool on a pleasure moon gave her an inside glow.

Scrivvens, also noticeably relaxed, was good company, regaling her with stories of his weirder investigations.

"So what is it with you and bots?" Brell said.

"It's complicated," he said.

"Sorry, didn't want to bring up any bad memories."

"No, it's okay. I grew up on a farm, similar to Katey's but not as austere. I played more with the utility and house bots than my brother. Then I tinkered with their drive units and became interested in all things robotic, including their coding, brain patterns, personalities and inner workings."

"I've always been a bit ambivalent to most bots. I prefer the personal touch. However, Lottie is different. I can say things to her which won't get blabbed around the office."

"Delta is the same. Nevertheless, I can't take her to the family farm – it would cause problems with my parents. They have the usual expectations of me marrying a locally born girl. You should have seen some of their matchmaking attempts. Anyway, I send them a percentage of my monthly wage."

"With my drunk mother and absent father, I think we've both had interesting childhoods. Let's leave it at that, shall we?"

"Yes," he said, brightening up. "Let's drink a toast. To forgotten childhoods." They clinked glasses.

"Leaf brew tea, please. Scrivvens, the same?" Brell said as a waiter bot approached.

As she casually pushed her plate to make way for the drinks, she looked across the restaurant and froze.

"Scrivvens, keep talking normally, but I think Smiler is here, on his own. Near the mini waterfall."

"I think it's time to visit the privy. Back in a sec," Scrivvens said.

Brell sipped at her brew nonchalantly, admiring the restaurant décor.

A central waterfall, real as opposed to holographic, was encircled by small floating baskets of flowers, creating a sense of calm within the busy restaurant.

"Yup, it's him," Scrivvens said on returning.

"He waved at me." She shrugged her shoulders. "Ignore him. Oh, excuse me, got a zap from Gorst."

She sent a zap to Scrivvens.

No message from Gorst. Thinking that with Smiler here we are probably being bugged. Keep up appearances. It suggests we're not planning anything.

_Agree. Have blocker device, if necessary, but no need. Have just talked shop. Just a couple of colleagues having a gossip,_ Scrivvens replied.

Having finished eating, they continued chatting for a while, with Brell speaking candidly about her addictions – nothing she hadn't mentioned before.

"I miss Deep Yellow. You know, it was wonderful for escaping from life. The ability to switch off, to float away."

"Never taken it. Being illegal has put me off. The potential damage to the brain scares me. I find I can escape through complete immersion within synthesised brains. The programming, codes, spaces between synapses is purity itself."

"I find that since not taking DY, lots of things cause pleasure, but the deepness of the experience, as if you're within yourself, away from everything, is difficult to reproduce. Anyway, you know it caused more problems than it cured. Too many regrets, but I can't change anything."

***

Smiler learnt nothing of value from the bugging device placed near Brell's table by a bribed waiter. They were both professional enough not to talk about the challenge, or Mayleth. Perhaps they had no interest in her, and without any facts, he could only go with his gut instinct.

Something was going on, but what?

Before finishing his meal, he allowed Bim and the youth the rest of night off and gave them directions to a reasonably priced pleasure palace. Absent mindedly, he watched the roadways sweeping past his cab window; the difference between Elytia Central and the outer districts was telling.

He thought of Brell's body: fit, strong, mature. A woman not afraid of confrontation but with an addictive personality. Bet she turns a trick or two.

Arriving in his hotel room, he took off his suit and took a long shower. Feeling refreshed, he dressed in a bathrobe to wait for his guest.

***

Mack paused for Techie's signal. On receiving a nod, he silently opened the door of Smiler's hotel suite, Mote behind him. Low lighting threw a dim sheen across the entrance. Stopping in the living room, he listened to noises coming from the bedroom. Pointing towards the door and nodding, they positioned themselves either side.

He put a hand up. "Ready?" Mack mouthed.

With a swift movement he barged open the door and stepped inside, holding a laser at the ready.

He lowered his pistol at the sight of Smiler, but raised it again on seeing a body on the floor. Smiler lay naked on the bed, propped on pillows, pleasuring himself whilst viewing replays of his recent activity with the pleasure bot.

"What the ...? Who are you?" Smiler said angrily, pulling a sheet over his groin.

Lowering their weapons, the men's faces were a mixture of surprise, mirth, and joy.

"Now, now, boys, you must have been caught in a similar predicament to this. Give a man a break," Smiler said, smoothing his hair and regaining his composure.

"Yes, caught indeed, but not whilst the Tinker was watching," Mack said, patting his chest camera.

Smiler's face dropped.

"Techie," Mack said towards the door.

Techie duly arrived, saw Smiler, stifled a laugh, and activated a screen. Tinker's face soon appeared on it, unable to conceal his glee.

Smiler grasped another sheet. However, his flabby belly, red neck, and sweat from recent exertions shone in the lights which Mack had turned on.

"Well, well, been enjoying yourself, have we, Smiler?" the Tinker said.

"Tinker, just having a bit of fun. Work hard, play hard."

"Do you see how easy it is for me to find you in your wonderful hotel? Not the one you're charging me for, by the way."

"I can explain. I used the extra credits to pay staff and bribes."

"Now let's cut to the quick. You are to get the job done by any means. There is going to be no failure or hiding anything from me. Understood?"

"Yes, Tinker," Smiler said. "It will be tricky, so I need extra credits and four members of your staff – explosives technicians and lookouts. I've got a failsafe plan." His voice was confident, his smile returning.

"When you're more comfortable, Smiler, you can tell me about your plans and I'll consider your request. But Mack and his team here are not for your use – they'll be keeping an eye on you."

"Certainly, Tinker. Let me clear up here a bit." He looked over the side of the bed. "And I'll contact you back."

"Final warning, Smiler. Mack you can stand down," the Tinker wagged a finger towards the screen.

Mack duly shot a wide bolt at the pillows, which promptly burst open, making Smiler topple sideways into a flurry of feathers. His backside was exposed as he rolled over, accentuating further embarrassment in front of Mack's team, who were now incapable of holding in their amusement.

Wrapping a sheet around himself, Smiler cursed everyone and everything.

As if to add more indignity, Bim, with the youth in tow, skipped into the hotel room, their mouths dropping open on seeing their boss floundering about with just a thin sheet covering his private parts.

"Show's over, folks. We'll give Smiler some privacy to play with his best friend again," Mack said, waving Techie and Mote away. "See you, Smiler." Mack pointed at him as he backed out of the room.

***

Once they'd left, Smiler ordered Bim to remove the blue-skinned pleasure bot from the floor and return it as faulty to reception.

On Bim's return, Smiler, fully dressed, was examining holo screens, a large glass of intox spirit in his hand.

"Okay, boss, what's the plan?"

"The plan is that Tinker will pay for his little stunt just now. I have a strategy for getting the information from the woman without involving us directly. However, our beautiful blue woman is up to something. We'll be switching our energies there, after Tinker's goons are in place."

Bim followed Smiler's mouth in an attempt to understand what he was saying.

"Strategy?" Bim said, scratching his head.

"The boy will explain it to you," Smiler said.

### Chapter 36 – My client is into property

Katey stood naked in front of a mirror inside her rented room above a baker's shop situated in Winnow, a rural town within the huge Farmlands protectorate on planet Kaznac.

A lack of normal security checks was the first difference Katey noticed on arrival at the planet's main spaceport in the capital city, Dredge. Arranging transport was a chaotic, tense affair. Surrounded at one point by hecklers, beggars, and surly men, she pushed her way through them into a cab, not showing any sign of weakness.

Non-Association planet Kaznac was split into protectorate areas, each governed by an overlord exercising their own version of the law. The Industrial and Business region adjoined the Farmlands, which bordered the Wildlands and a collection of small warring states. Groups of hardy sea folk had developed a lifestyle living on the oceans and seas. After much bloodletting and feuding, a type of co-existence had emerged over the last two decades, mainly due to trade agreements.

It was a place of confusing opposites: wealth, poverty; violence and pockets of safety and entrepreneurship. The growing tourist trades in illegal activities, drugs, and weapons seduced off-worlders to visit, many of whom became destitute, unable to afford a fare back to an Association planet.

Examining her body from head to toe, she twisted each way to check if any cuts or bruises were infected. Happy, she wrapped a fresh bandage around the little and ring finger of her left hand. By accident, she caught her little finger in a door jamb yesterday. Unwilling to seek medical assistance, she would keep it strapped and just tolerate the pain.

She picked up an undervest and pulled the skin-tight garment over her head and breasts, and checked its resulting effect in the mirror. After putting on a pair of men's underpants, she pushed a tube of moulded plastic down inside them. It tickled at first, but it would warm up and become more comfortable.

Based on advice, current events, and horror stories from female visitors to Kaznac, she undertook a makeover to present herself as a man.

"Won't be difficult," the stylist said, on examining her face and body.

With cropped black hair, wider eyebrows, and a deeper voice, it worked well. Darkening her pale skin helped to give her a rugged facial appearance without having to shave. She didn't want to have anything permanent like facial tattoos because she hoped to return home one day and get married. Seeking medical advice, she took a tablet to stop her monthly cycle for a year, boost certain hormones, and give protection against general infections.

Choosing to give the impression of being an off-world casual worker, she wore a jacket, shirt, trousers, boots, a flat cap, and finished off with a knotted neck scarf. Fresh-faced perhaps, but people's eyes didn't narrow when she spoke. In fact her bandaged fingers gave an impression of roughness.

Walking and acting in a masculine way was not too difficult, having socialised with Mack and his team. Her choice of name, Griss – a shortened variation of her own – was easy to remember. She nodded to herself in the mirror; she was ready.

***

The Stogger's Bar, a large smoke-filled drinking venue, appealed to farm workers, mechanics, and fruit pickers. It was also considered a safe venue for women to attend.

A pipe band played on a small stage as waiters took orders. Security militia checked everyone entering. They wore their own clothes – a green sash tied across their chests and a comms bracelet were the only equipment provided by the Farmlands protectorate. Their weapons and gadgets were old by Assoc standards. With a lack of training and a rural instinct and fear of foreigners, they would be dangerous.

During a weapon detector scan, Katey stared at the floor, making no eye contact or conversation. Just another male casual worker, one of many slaking their thirst at the end of a working day.

On finding an empty table, she sat down, remembering to open her knees. Rubbing her thigh, she tried to sooth the dull ache which had flared up occasionally since the torture. She ordered a light intox beer, feeling happy with her progress since arriving on the planet.

It was a daunting task at first. She combined previous research with local maps of the West-Central parts of the Farmlands, the last recorded destination of Uncle Carac's ore freighter. She compiled a list of areas worth searching based on known silos, suspected silos, barren land with significant security, and frequent freighter activity.

After hiring a battered zoomer, she visited each possible location. On being threatened by an armed silo clerk, she decided to take it steady so not to alert local militia and instead make local enquiries first. Acting in a respectful manner, like a humble transient worker, she kept conversations to a minimum.

On her eighth day, she flew over distinct-looking farmlands, similar to her farmstead, back home. The silo on the ground below, appeared unassuming, just blotches of different coloured earth contained within a large square area. Requiring further investigation, she landed and visited farm buildings enquiring about work while studying the local environment. She'd found Jabe, a spotty-faced, gangly man in his early twenties working in a large windowless work shed. Having lived in the area for years, he knew of the surrounding fields, their neighbours, and local gossip. His eyes lit up and his body language changed when Katey mentioned her interest in the secure area in the grasslands a few kilometres away.

He emerged through a group of people and loped towards her. Glad of his arrival, she hoped the stares from others would cease now a local was sitting with her.

"Hi, Griss."

"Jabe," Katey said, keeping her voice steady.

"Lots of ladies here tonight."

"Certainly are," Katey said, lifting her beer mug and intentionally spilling a drop onto the table.

"Had a few beers already?"

"Yup," Katey managed to say before belching.

She had done well. Apart from him not seeing her true identity, he was a loner, used to fixing farm bots and machinery. Unused to any attention, an invite for a drink from another man didn't happen much in his life. That the invite was to the Stogger's Bar sealed the deal.

With combed hair, cheap aftershave, and a worn lounge jacket, he fidgeted, unused to the bar surroundings.

"Which beer do you want?" she said.

"Handler's Brew."

"Strong. A real man's beer, eh?"

"Exactly."

Katey waved at a waiter. "Eaten?"

"Usual evening meal at the farmhouse." Jabe shrugged his shoulders.

"Gruel, was it? Fancy a steak and deep-beamed fries with your beer?"

Nodding, he rubbed his hands down the sides of his trousers as he went back to ogling two women sitting at the next table who waved at him.

"Busy day?" Katey said, trying to get his attention. She'd noticed the two women earlier, drinking, talking, and observing her, and it made her feel uncomfortable. Did they see through her identity? Probably two girls seeking male company.

"Yes, calibrated a primary harvesting coupler."

"You don't get out much, do you?"

"No, not really, always busy. Which one would you pick, Griss?" He nodded at the two women.

"Dark-haired one. Nice bubbies. You?" Katey scratched her crotch.

"Bubbies?"

"Sorry, off-world saying." Katey held her hands up as if cupping large breasts.

"Got it." He turned towards the women. "Know what you mean. I think the other one is pretty." Speaking loud enough for the woman to hear, he glanced away.

Katey sipped at her beer to stop herself laughing. Being a virgin didn't mean she was naïve, far from it. However, Jabe's view of what constituted prettiness would have provided ten minutes of merriment in its retelling with Mack and his team.

"What happened to your hand?"

Katey thought for a moment and said, "got in a fight."

Jabe's eyes widened. "Really?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Long story."

"Did you punch him good, like?"

"He got what was due to him and staggered off," Katey said, aware her little boast had worked.

"Wow."

A waiter plonked a tray of food and drinks on their table. Clicking mugs, Katey watched Jabe tuck feverishly into his meal.

The bar floor had filled with people standing, talking and dancing. Every now and again beer splashed up in the air and a fight broke out. Security swiftly removed the parties involved. Remembering when she used to sneak away into local farmhands' dances, Katey realised the similarities, albeit across on the other side of the galaxy. Men and women who worked hard, out for a good time without restraint. During Katey's upbringing, parents often sat in the corner of official dances, keeping an eye on the excited teenagers.

Jabe drank his beer down and his eyes started watering. Katey ordered him another one.

"Jabe, I'm undertaking important work."

"Involving guns and girls?"

"Something like that. I can hook you up with a girl tonight if you want?" Katey said, shrugging her shoulders. Earlier, she had watched a mature woman caked in make-up propositioning and disappearing with male customers.

"Sure, but you know, I'm casual. There are plenty of farm girls available."

She stopped herself from laughing aloud. Most of the women here were farm workers. Plain, and solidly built with large hands, they drank beer and talked loudly. With tight dresses and an eye on the men, they would eat him for breakfast. Just like the two women sitting next to them.

"My client buys land. What's in the secure site next to your farm?"

"Is your client Assoc?"

"Yes. They pay well. As long as you keep it secret."

"Enough credits to get a ticket to one of them Association pleasure moons?"

"Women, men, bots, whatever you want." Placing a hand in an elbow joint, she tightened her fist and brought the arm up quickly. It was one of Mote's frequent expressions to Techie when studying women.

Jabe licked his lips as he grabbed a newly arrived beer.

"It's been there for ages. Silos below ground. Gems, rocks, that sort of thing. I've seen delivery craft land and take off. They have these automated machines for filling and extracting underground. But I know a little secret ..." Jabe's voice drifted. He tapped a finger against his nose.

Katey waited for him to speak, believing this to be a key moment.

"Evening, gentlemen."

The two women from the next table sat themselves down, beer mugs in hand.

"This is cosy," the dark-haired women said. "Where are you boys from?"

Katey quickly changed tack. Jabe wanted to reveal more information, but the unexpected interruption put her on alert. Penned in by two drunk amorous women in a bar full of militia, she needed a delicate touch. She could excuse herself, go to the privy, and leave the building, but she needed to find out more from Jabe. Seeing him again after disappearing could cause difficulties.

"Farm nearby," Jabe said, blushing.

"How about you?" The woman moved her thighs next to Katey's.

"Off-world originally. Now a casual worker."

"Off-worlder, eh? Been in the wars?" She nodded towards Katey's bandaged fingers.

"Got in a fight," Katey said, realising after speaking that her bragging made the woman more impressed.

"You can take care of yourself. Youthful, fit and plenty of energy." The woman nodded over to her friend.

As she brought her mug to her lips, her left hand pressed onto Katey's knee and slowly moved to her groin.

Judging by Jabe's facial expression, and the looks exchanged between the women, he was getting the same treatment.

What should a man do? Nothing? Shove the hand away with a weak excuse, or reciprocate? Katey swallowed, her heart racing, feeling like a fumbling teenager. As the roaming fingers spread out, they touched the moulded tube. Moving her head in close to Katey's, the woman's warm breath smelled of beer.

"Big boy," she whispered, then nibbled Katey's earlobe.

"You have no idea," Katey said.

### Chapter 37 – The crop van

As the experienced fingers stroked her, Katey increasingly felt her identity would be uncovered. In not getting the required male reaction, there would be confusion, followed by loud talk, embarrassment, and security being called.

Squirming, Katey hooked her right arm around the woman shoulders. As she hesitated, her only thought was, "for the sake of the Locardum, for the sake of the Locardum". She nuzzled her lips into the woman's neck, and in a classic move Brell would be proud of, she fondled one of the woman's breasts. "Have a place to go?" Katey said, baulking at the taste of cheap perfume.

It had the required effect, and the woman moved her hand from Katey's crotch, placing it onto her own thigh as her breathing became rapid. Men have it easy here, Katey thought. Talk about on a plate, I didn't even have to buy a drink.

Still nibbling at the woman's neck, Katey moved her head to view Jabe. He had both hands palm down on the table, but something was occurring due to his expression of embarrassment, joy, and wonder. His female friend leant in close to him, laughing, and winking back at Katey's new girlfriend.

"Got a crop collecting van parked nearby."

"Your friend?" Katey said.

"The van is big enough for both of us."

It can't get any worse, can it? Katey thought. Extracting herself from the silo raid was easier than this.

"I need to pee," she said. "And then we can inspect your crops." It was the best she could think of, but the woman wiggled in anticipation.

Standing up, Katey straightened her clothes, but not before a hand slid under her backside.

An invisible signal passed between the farm women. "Just going to powder our noses. See you boys outside. Don't run away now." They elbowed each other as they tottered across to the privy.

"Jabe, you sure know how to pick them. Ready?" Katey said, wiping her mouth and tongue.

"Sure." He glanced at the floor, blushing.

"She'll show you what to do. Afterwards, put an arm around her and tell her you love her."

"Really?"

"You won't have a problem, I promise you." Katey pointed across the room. "Going to the privy first. Coming?"

Jabe nodded and followed.

With her footsteps feeling like lead, Katey pushed her way through the crowd, thinking hard of ways to resolve the situation. The main objective was for Jabe to be happy tonight otherwise he might be unwilling to provide information. If she ran away, it would only take the farm girl to be friends with the militia and to make allegations regarding an itinerant off-worlder. Going back to the area would prove difficult.

If Katey got into the van she would be discovered in two minutes. As she was inexperienced in intimate encounters with men, let alone being close to an aroused woman, her lack of ability and skill would be uncovered. One of her life aims was to marry a strong, fertile man, not to canoodle with ladies, which made her tremble at the thought.

The men's privy stank of urine, beer and something nasty. Men lined up next to each other and peed into a long metal trough whilst talking, burping, and farting. Katey stopped herself from staring, a behaviour she knew could cause offence. She started unbuckling her trousers whilst entering a stall.

Sitting on the privy, trousers down, she readjusted her prosthetic.

Think. What would Mack do? Get in the back of the van like a shot, probably.

Someone entered the stall next to her. Noisily pulling his trousers down, he grunted in relief. One end of his belt splayed out underneath the adjoining wall into Katey's stall. Bending over, she got onto a knee and strained her head under the stall. A small pistol and a bottle of spray were attached to the belt. Must be a militia security officer.

Many wore an array of pouches and devices on their belts to make themselves appear more important. Though within easy reach, she decided against taking the pistol - shooting a guard or local would make matters worse. This was no Tinker job with colleagues backing her up, she was on her own. Given the location, circumstances, and intelligence, brute force was not an option. If a stash of Locardum were in the fields, returning to a small farming community would be dangerous.

Activating the beam flushers, the security officer buckled up his trousers. Katey sprang up and followed the man. The canister resembled the basic incapacitant sprays carried by shopping mall security guards.

Elbowing him in the side, she smiled and said, "Sorry, officer, bit busy in here."

He grunted and continued walking as she pocketed the spray and looked for Jabe.

Still in the privy, he was staring at himself in the mirror, unable to move. Motioning him outside the building, Katey welcomed the fresh air, a change from the smoky atmosphere.

A hand crept around her waist. "Hi, off-worlder. Got a present for ya."

Unable to find any words, Katey watched as the woman, whose name she still didn't know, placed her knickers into the top pocket of her jacket. A pair of heavy lips pressed themselves onto hers.

Pulling back, the woman said, "Hey, you kiss like a girl, off-worlder."

"Wait until I go south," Katey said, winking. "See what an off-worlder can do then." It couldn't get more cheesy, however, the woman's eyes lit up.

As they arrived at the van, Katey considered whether the incident was a set-up to rob her and Jabe. She had to be cautious of everything. Utilising her senses, a quick sweep of the road and surrounding buildings didn't reveal anything suspicious: a quiet back road, a jumble of vehicles, convenient parking near a busy bar. For two ladies on the pull, it was a means of enjoyment and privacy on their terms rather than in a stranger's hotel room.

It was a typical old-style van, engine at the front, with a large rear-covered compartment for carrying produce to market. Opening the rear doors revealed two wide compartments with a wooden partition in-between. Katey strained her eyes, but there was no sign of anyone lurking inside, just folded blankets and a smell of rotten vegetables. A night light shone from inside.

Jabe held his lady's hand as she clambered into the van and proceeded to crawl along on all fours. As if seeing a vision of heaven, mesmerised, he jumped inside and scrambled after her.

Shielding the spray behind her hand, Katey watched the other woman lean against the van.

"Won't be a sec. Don't want to ruin my shoes."

Depressing the button, Katey fired a mist of incapacitant towards the shoes, as the woman's face leaned into it.

"There." She stood up. "Come on."

Katey was confused. The woman must have inhaled the spray and should have been unconscious or woozy. With it having no effect, Katey felt her blood drain.

With Jabe's lady giggling and sighing, Katey's woman cocked her knee up to heft herself inside.

After shaking the canister, Katey fired a long stream of spray above the woman's head as she crawled forward.

"Come on in and close the doors."

Grabbing a blanket, the woman rolled onto her back. Still outside the van, waiting for the van air to clear, Katey hesitated. The woman should be asleep by now. Perhaps the beer counteracted the spray, or maybe it was out of date. Run off, climb in, make an excuse – she couldn't delay her decision.

Scrambling in and pulling the doors shut, she couldn't believe what she was doing. The information from Jabe had better be worth it. From the gasps and noises through the thin partition, it seemed he was enjoying himself.

"Come here off-worlder," the woman slurred.

As her hands reached out towards her, Katey noted a change of tone in the woman's voice. Her arms dropped.

"On my way. Ready?" Katey touched one of the woman's toes. No response. "Ready?" she said again.

Snuffling noises, and then a low snoring.

Relieved, Katey sat back on her knees, wiped her face, and shook her head. She still didn't know what she would have done if the woman had remained awake. Probably feigned illness, or have an old injury play up. Anything as long as Jabe was satisfied, which wouldn't be long now.

Straightening the woman's dress, Katey sat next to her to check that she slept soundly, then rolled her gently onto her side, in case she vomited. She was a farm girl wanting a bit of fun away from the hard seasonal work of the fields. Who could deny her that pleasure? After all, Katey was a farm girl at heart. A strict upbringing, chastity vows, but on another day, she could have been the one crawling into the back of the van.

From the shuddering sounds she could hear, it seemed Jabe was reaching a climactic moment, after which Katey heard those immortal words, "I love you."

There's a good boy, she thought. Hopefully Jabe's woman would be satisfied and after some lame excuse about Katey's woman being unwell they could all go home.

"Oh babe, do you? Come here, you're not going anywhere."

"I love you," Jabe said again.

As the other two recommenced activities, Katey decided she couldn't listen to it anymore. She would leave and explain it away in the morning. Katey leant over the sleeping woman, checking on her. "Best of luck, my beautiful farm girl," she said softly into the woman's ear.

Shuffling carefully, she opened the rear door and slid out without interrupting Jabe. With no signs of anyone following her, and attentive to her surroundings, she walked to her room above the baker's shop, promising herself a long beam shower.

***

The next morning, she performed her dressing routine, smiling when sticking the prosthetic down her underpants. Pulling out the woman's underwear from her top pocket, she decided to keep them as a reminder of the minefield of male – female interaction. Sadly she had no one to share the story with.

During the journey to Jabe's farm, she focussed on what he'd said last night regarding neighbouring fields. Could it be Locardum? Unlikely. Probably rare gemstones.

Since selling her cruiser to finance her visit, sufficient funds existed for a few months of exploration, however, it was a huge gamble. Being wanted by Police Corps meant returning to an Association planet would prove very risky. Not finding anything, with no credits, would doom her to remain on Kaznac, unless her mother somehow saved her. Following that unlikely thought, she arrived at Jabe's farm.

Thanking the driver, she jumped out onto the dirt and approached Jabe's work shed. He was working on an upturned bot, leaning over it, making adjustments.

"Knock knock. Is there is a male stud in the building," Katey said.

"Griss, hi, what happened to you last night?"

"She fell asleep on me, just as I was, you know ..." Katey moved her fist up and down.

Jabe nodded sagely.

"I couldn't take her honour in that way."

"I understand. A man with morals," Jabe said.

Men believe anything sounding noble, thought Katey. As if many men in that bar would have been able to think about the woman's honour.

"You struck lucky."

Blushing, Jabe rubbed his trousers, sheepishly glancing at the floor.

"Me and Gerda are engaged."

"Congratulations. Does Gerda and her friend work nearby?" Katey held her breath.

"Two farms along, quite a few kilometres."

"I'm out of town soon, so say hi to her friend, whatever her name was," she said, thankful for the distances involved. "Now, I believe you have something to tell me about the silo,before we were interrupted last night."

Glancing at the door, Jabe fished out the burnt and twisted remains of his soil sampler bot from underneath a cupboard.

"Here, this is the one ... watch ..." He plugged a device into its side.

Beep, beep.

A scan result was displayed.

"Locardum." He turned to face Katey.

"Can you do it again to check?" she said, forgetting to speak slowly.

Beep, beep.

"Same." He held up the scanner.

"Is Locardum a kind of gem or stone?" Katey said, holding onto the table edge. All the fumblings of the previous night, the decision to stay rather than run, had been worth the effort. Stealth and subtlety, not violence for a change.

"It's currently very expensive and rare. I looked it up. Used in engines." His eyes lit up.

"Small deposit, do you think?"

"Difficult to tell. Most deposits on a Non-Assoc are for a tax reason or something. Not worth depositing a small amount."

"Can you show me where your bot found the Locardum?"

"Sure." He went over to the doorway, poked his head out into the yard, and waved at her. "Let's go."

Driving an old mechanics truck, he navigated across six kilometres of mixed crops and substitute wheat fields. Katey saw a vague outline of a boundary fence stretching across the land. Constructed with a fine mesh of thin laser beams emitted from a series of tall thin posts, the sophisticated security barrier contrasted with the landscape.

"We can go up to it. It's safe on our side. Over there, though, boom. Automated security, all hidden. My bot was doing a soil analysis underground, but it kept going, lost its position, kept burrowing sideways."

"Got into an underground silo?"

"Yeh, well I believe it tried to burrow into a silo. The bot only needed to get a pincer into a weak part of the silo wall to sniff out the contents. It found its way to the surface and and got blasted by security turrets. The owners were really pissed." He laughed and clapped his hands together.

Manipulating a small handheld device, Katey marked her position.

"Good information, Jabe."

Pausing, she weighed up whether to laser him. Instead, she decided he could be of future use and climbed back into the truck.

Jabe slid into the driver's seat.

"Here are some credits, for all your help," Katey said, handing over a wad of credit notes. "You could entertain Gerda again."

"You bet. Now that we're getting married, I may have to think about cancelling the visit to the pleasure moon."

"Okay. But, hey, keep this secret, otherwise no more credits for your wedding." Katey punched Jabe lightly on the shoulder.

Jabe stamped on the accelerator, skidding the truck towards the farm.

As they travelled, Katey admired the landscape – wide undulating fields of differing colours of crops, a place that uncle Carac, a much-travelled man, would have felt attached to.

Ignoring Jabe's continual talk of Gerda, she let her mind wander. How many billions of kilometres across space was it to her family's farmhouse? It made her feel alone, a small speck on a hazardous world. Her hopes, her future, rested on the findings of a sexually frustrated techie loner.

***

The next day, with an anticipation of failure Katey flew her zoomer to the silo. Denoted by two grey coloured fence posts, the entrance consisted of a holographic welcome sign which popped up as she approached on foot.

Silently, a slim pole appeared from the ground. A holo sign flicked on, stating, _Press red button to enter_. Katey duly did as asked. Beeping noises started as a square of earth, attached to a hatch, flipped back to reveal stairs leading to an elevator.

Travelling down a few levels, the elevator stopped and she exited into a clerks office. At odds with the general décor on Kaznac, this was an expensive high-end Association style glass and marble creation. Visitors faced a small counter with a greyed out window. A walk in type of booth was set in the wall.

As the colour of the window faded, a male clerk appeared sitting behind a counter. Wearing a grey uniform his face had an expression of world weariness.

"Welcome, may I help you, sir?" his voice was as grey as his skin.

Katey stepped forward. "I am here to enquire about an ore deposit, I believe I have the necessary credentials."

"Please enter this booth and await identity checks."

Katey entered the semi-circular cubicle, a holographic assistant appeared and gave instructions. Katey placed her hands in a rectangular box, opened her mouth and stared ahead. Fingerprint, blood and saliva samples were taken together with a retina scan.

"Grisella Katey Montil-Perrwinken, madam," the clerk switched gender without a missed beat, your identity is verified. All in order. Your property is in silo one zero two, in three large trucks. Transporter craft identifying number please, otherwise security will deem it a threat."

Katey could not speak, such was her shock and elation. All that effort, and danger was all justified. She wanted to shout and scream.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that," she said.

"Everything is in order. Your transporter craft identifying number please."

"I don't have any transport as yet, I will be arranging it soon, now I know it is here."

"Certainly madam. Please check in with us again to confirm your arrangements. Thank you for using our services. Have a good day."

The clerks window faded back to grey.

With that, Katey travelled in the elevator back to the surface and found herself standing in the fresh air outside the silo. For a few moments she remained in a bewildered state, uncertain what to do next.

Just one obstacle in her way, finding freighter transport for three trucks. Shouldn't be difficult. Smiling broadly, a weight lifted off her shoulder as she flew back to her lodgings to contact her mother.

***

"What needs to be done next?"

Katey's mother was, as usual, unemotional and direct. No congratulations or wondering how she had made the discovery. She stood by the open kitchen door whilst speaking.

Katey tweaked the screen definition on her cube as the encrypted signal via space relays to her basement receiver was weak.

"I just need to find a freighter which will take three truck loads."

"Well I suggest you get on with that soon, the farm won't run itself. I knew your late uncle would come through for us. He's saved us from eviction."

"He also ensured that you or I could access the ore. I went through various genetic tests."

Her mother inhaled on her smoke tube before speaking. "Wait ... the last time I saw your uncle he asked me for a sample of our hair and childhood image scans. I thought it was as a keepsake."

"The genetic code from the hair can be logged and compared with blood and saliva. With the old retina scans, he made sure only a Montil could access it."

"What are you going to do next?"

"I'll travel to Dredge City space docks to hire a suitable freighter and crew. It's a big city, and there's more chance of remaining anonymous. There's nothing around here – the farmers don't travel much by air. It's not without risk and cost though. I'll secure the Locardum. Don't worry, Momma. We'll sell it to the Tinker or whoever to safeguard the farm."

"Contact me when you're in space. I'll tell you where to deposit the load. I've got someone who's willing to help us with that."

"Okay. I can't trust anyone here. I'm still passing myself off as a man to blend in." Katey gestured at herself.

"Don't get any ideas about that."

"No, Momma."

"Well, get on with it," Katey's mother said, turning her face to the side, blowing out a stream of smoke.

"Okay, Momma. Speak soon."

Her mother waved back and the screen went blank.

Still pinching herself that the research had paid off, Katey flopped back on the bed, reconciled that nothing further could be achieved tonight. She envied Jabe. His encounter with Gerda the previous night had taken him away from the drudgery of his job, giving him a noticeable lift in spirits.

After all the hardship, leaving Space Corps early against her wishes, torture and loneliness, the whole matter was nearly at an end.

Unable to sleep, she fiddled with the beam show channels. There was just as many rubbishy Kaznac shows here as on the screens back home, except there was no censorship. Programmes included prisoner executions, a brutal cleansing of a vagrant camp, a children's puppet show and something involving naked women.

Eventually she found an illegal Association feed advertising the final round of _Convict Challenge_. Biting into a sandwich bought from the baker's shop below, she wondered if Brell would appear or if she was too injured since their fight. Probably, with the credits they were paying, it would be daft not to. What about afterwards? Presumably Brell would continue piloting her freighter, having given up searching for the Locardum.

Cargo freighter.

Capable of taking a fair weight as well.

A thought came to her, but she dismissed it immediately.

### Chapter 38 – It's all building up

In the days leading up to the final challenge, Brell visited the studios to fulfil her contractual obligations and watch construction work inside the arena. Interviewing the two women finalists, Mayleth and Nesta, in their cells, she asked both of them the same set of questions. Deciding against any "special chats" with Mayleth, she presented both women with a tub of speciality ice cream, a treat Brell consumed when in the studio cells during her challenge.

During one staff meeting Valvin announced healthy ratings, meaning that sponsors and advertisers were bidding for time slots in commercial breaks. A stunt during the beginning of the show would provide sponsorship and further commercial opportunities.

He went on to discuss the four remaining challengers. Highlighting the empathy and individual ratings gleaned from public forums, he outlined their positive attributes.

"Huilette is the softly spoken Daa'shin follower who is cool and calm under attack. Ugga is aggressive, perverted and strong. Nesta is our agile female assassin and Mayleth still has some fight left in her."

"What if Ugga wins, VV?" Theo asked.

"Of all of them, he's the one who worries the producers most. Don't tell anybody this, by the way, but he was chosen in order to stoke up the audience, provoke discussion, and generate interest prior to the start of the programme. Thing is, he lived." Valvin put his hands in the air in exasperation.

"What about the exterminators, any rule changes for them?" the commentator said.

"Yes, they will be vulnerable this time, as we will hide weapons for the challengers to defend themselves."

Choosing to remain silent, Brell listened with interest. Clearly the producers had concerns regarding sex killer Ugga and the poor performance of the exterminators. Brell's mind whirled as she considered whether this had any impact on the "Mayleth" strategy. Perhaps the exterminators had been told to hunt for Ugga first.

Whatever happened, it would be over soon and Lottie could stop creating sleep concoctions.

Valvin ended the meeting by reading out a good luck prayer taken from a celebrity-funded religion. Theo winked at Brell, as Valvin tried, but failed, to inject emotion into the words.

Once back at the apartment, Brell checked in with Delta and Lottie regarding their roles. On finding Scrivvens hunched over multiple screens, she proposed they all have a night off. A themed evening meal in the apartment with charades and games.

It ended with Lottie, dressed as a pirate, performing impressions of Scrivvens, much to Delta's amusement. When Lottie found a smoke tube and strutted up and down giving orders, swearing repeatedly, Brell put her hands up in submission.

The pressure was released, at least for one evening.

***

Smiler spent much of the week red-faced in his anger and resentment. With the Tinker contacting him every evening, his blood pressure and need for revenge rose on each occasion.

"Amateur goons," was the least offensive thing he called the eight personnel provided to undertake his plan.

He refined his main strategy for extracting Mayleth by including a backup option should the first plan fail. Though blackmailing staff had been easy and enjoyable, his mind was occupied with two other issues. An escape route from the Tinker and what the blue bitch was up to.

Once he had successfuly delivered Mayleth to the Tinker, he knew his life would be over. The Tinker would not hesitate in setting a gang on him, there was no love lost between them, hence his secretive transport arrangements.

His gut instinct told him that Brell and her Corps mates were up to something, but he couldn't figure out what that was. They would not break the law or cause injury to anyone and if they had wanted to extract Mayleth, it would have happened by now.

Brell was clever, strong and being an ex-convict gave her an edge. However, all she had done recently was visit the studios or go shopping with her assistant bot. As for the Corps inspector, he recently went to a hotel for a clandestine afternoon with his pleasure bot, who, in Smiler's opinion, needed a lot of servicing.

He brushed strands of hair over his scalp - there was only one way to be certain.

***

On the day of the final challenge, Brell gave a final briefing to Lottie and Delta as if speaking to one of her old Police Corps teams. After talking privately with Scrivvens, Brell watched him leave with Delta. Lottie left a few minutes later to make her way independently to a rendezvous point, whilst Brell got ready for her appearance on the show.

Without Lottie's advice, Brell spent a while checking herself in the mirror. Wearing a red jacket, skirt, black tights and matching jewellery, she slicked back her short hair with a fine perfumed oil. As she adjusted her earrings, a message arrived from the auto limo company.

Been a busy night, your vehicle will leave in fifteen minutes, regardless of whether the passenger arrives or not.

Opening the front door, Brell sensed the mild evening air mixing with the heat of the apartment. Stepping outside, she felt a blast of cold spray hitting her face.

### Chapter 39 – Secured

Her cheek stung.

"Ow!" Brell said, shocked by the pain.

Unable to put a hand to her face, she tugged her arms, but her wrists had been secured.

Fingers pinched her chin.

"Hello beautiful," a male voice said.

Smiler's face loomed into view.

Thirsty, and her mouth dry, she felt woozy and sick. In trying to stand up, she pulled at her arms, legs, and chest – however nothing happened.

"You're trussed up. You're not going anywhere."

Focussing her eyes, Brell stopped yanking at the restraints. She realised she was sitting in the living room of the apartment. The beautiful furniture lay trashed, the settee upturned, and pictures had been punctured with fist holes.

To think Lottie had performed impressions of her two days ago in this room.

Smiler shouted at a male kneeling on the floor examining some sort of equipment.

She examined herself. Restraints had bound her wrists and ankles to the arms and legs of an antique-style armchair which was pushed against the wall. Further restraints were wound under her breasts and armpits. Though her neck was free, the shackles were tight.

Equipment holdalls dumped in the middle of the room were open, their contents strewn across the floor. It had been a premeditated attack in a heavily soundproofed building.

"Right. Sorry about that, where were we?" Smiler said, adjusting his tie.

Wearing an expensive dark blue suit, he brought up a chair and sat in close, legs apart. "First off, you and your apartment friends will be dead by the end of the evening. What have you been up to?" Reaching out, he stroked her hair.

"Doesn't matter. This is what's going to happen. You will sit here and watch my team of experts extract Mayleth during the live challenge, like a magic show. Did you try for a last-minute official reprieve by the way? The law is useless against corruption."

Running his hands along the top of her thighs, he continued. "Once she's safe and my boy here extracts her information, I'll turn my attention to you."

She thought of Gorst working his shift, excited about their approaching conception ceremony; Wanda piloting a freighter towards Elytia; Brune inspecting a storeroom whilst sneaking out for a smoke to check on the challenge; Scrivvens, Delta, and an excited Lottie getting into position. Her mother, whom Brell had not thought of for months, would be telling stories of Brell's childhood to anyone willing to buy a drink.

What would she give to be with her mother ...

"I'm thirsty, got any water?" Brell said, not having been listening to Smiler as he'd been talking to her.

A water bottle was tilted near her lips and she gulped as much as she could.

"That's enough!" Smiler emptied the remaining liquid onto the floor.

Revived, Brell took stock of her surroundings. She was still wearing her blouse, skirt, and tights, but she noticed her handbag, jacket, and shoes discarded on the floor. Her comms cube might still be in the jacket and a jolter in the handbag. Dirty hand marks on her blouse suggested she had been searched.

"What do you want, Smiler?" she said.

"When? Now, or afterwards, before I kill you?"

Thoughts nagged at her: sorrow, regret, everything ending here in the apartment. All the work with Scrivvens this last two weeks and she may never know how they get on. Who is going to look after the _Lulu_?

She closed her eyes, shuddering at his bad breath.

"Show's starting, boss."

Hearing a shuffling noise, Brell glanced over to see a large male leaning on the doorway, his huge hands clasped together.

"Have we interrupted your search of the apartment, Bim? Bring anything you're not sure about. Trash everything else."

"Yes, boss," Bim said, disappearing into the corridor.

"Right, let's check on Tinker's rejects," Smiler said, raising his eyebrows. "Hotel One, anything?" he said into a communication bracelet held between his fingers.

" _Nope, inspector and the bot are still inside. Nothing is happening here,"_ a voice said slowly in a sarcastic manner.

"See if you have enough energy to get off your arses and enter the room, then terminate them both," Smiler said, winking at Brell.

" _Will do, boss man,"_ the voice replied.

"Bloody useless idiots," Smiler said as he poked at the comms bracelet.

"Studio team?"

" _Studio team here."_

"Standby for updates in case this thing doesn't come off. The first expo attempt is being made soon."

" _Received and standing by."_

"At least they know what to do," Smiler said to the youth. "Better calibre than those useless twats at the hotel."

"Explosives team?" he said into the bracelet.

" _We are ready."_

"Get into position, prepare and standby." Turning to Brell, he said, "Got a good seat? Let's watch the show and see how the job should be done. Did you say goodbye to your Corps man and his bot?"

Smiler leant on a wall whilst watching the screens. In Brell's mind, he spoke confidently but exhibited deep anxiety.

Helpless, unable to contact Scrivvens or anyone, she concluded that whatever happened she wouldn't give Smiler any satisfaction or enjoyment. Wait first, though, see if an opportunity presents itself and, if not, go down fighting at the very least. Relaxing her muscles, mind, and breath as much as possible, she watched the holo screens. The show was starting.

### Chapter 40 – Welcome to the final challenge

" _People across the Association, the Elytia Holo Beamcasting Company, in association with AssocBetting, welcome you to the final challenge."_

A floating cam swooped in on Theo and Lexi standing on a flat terrace at the top of a tall structure called "the Temple". Theo was wearing a smart blue suit, a red kerchief in his top pocket, whereas Lexi had set the wardrobe department into overdrive with a gold colour theme. From gold strands woven into her hair, down to her boots, everything shimmered and sparkled.

Theo surveyed the vast studio set before speaking. "Tonight, one winner will gain their freedom!"

A side screen showed an assizes judge holding a signed official-looking certificate.

"Who will that be?" Lexi said, looking at Theo, who continued the commentary. "The theme for our final is boom, fire and ash. Our challengers will need to utilise their survival skills, perhaps find a secreted weapon, and flee the exterminators. However, if they kill another challenger, they forfeit their own life."

"Our lovable exterminators are up for the challenge and tonight they'll be using incendiary and explosive weapons to chase down the challengers. The whole area may go up in flames before the night has finished."

Plumes of flames jetted out from the steps leading down from the Temple to the studio floor.

"First, let's look at our special arena where the fun will take place. Over to Doc to tell us all about it."

Doc stood in the middle of a long and wide pedestrian thoroughfare leading from the Temple to a platform at the far end. Two themed buildings were situated on each side of the street. With its light grey stepped façade and central stone staircase, the Temple was an imposing building.

"Hi, everyone. First let's admire the Temple." He waved a hand. "It's based on an ancient Inhab-47 civilisation. Wizards and priests would ascend these long steps up to the terrace to take part in religious ceremonies. We of course have our own wizards up there, Theo and Lexi."

Walking a few steps along the street, he said. "The two buildings on each side of the street are based on Inhab-47 designs from our first challenge. Just to give it a bit of alien-ness."

"Over here" – he pointed as he spoke – "is Vegas. Gamblers will love it."

It consisted of a squat black pyramid with a light shining out of its apex and a "Welcome to Las Vegas" sign set at the building's entrance.

"I'm told," Doc said quietly, "that the sign is the original. Producer Williams secured it on his visit to Inhab-47, replacing it with a fake. Though he's passed away, we thank him for the many gifts he left us." Doc pressed his palms together. "May he be at peace."

"Now. Here is the Tower ... remember it from the first challenge? We have made a few changes to our 'castle' this time round. Made from realistic stone workings, it has a wide entranceway and, importantly, dungeons inside."

Walking across the street, he continued. "And here is Bangkok, a traditional-styled house with a curved roof and girls inside who are hot, hot, hot!" He fanned his face.

"Our final building is Rome, with its gladiator arena," he said, walking to a reimagined replica of the colosseum. With its elliptical shape, it consisted of a single level of spectators.

"This is one of our favourites from the first challenge. Perhaps our challengers will go head to head with the exterminators here. We've placed some real weapons in the gladiator arena as well as our other locations, so the exterminators need to watch out. They only found out this morning, and they are not happy," he said sheepishly, placing the back of his hand over his mouth.

"With our multi-camera views, you can watch the single live feed or choose to follow your favourite challenger."

Pausing for effect, he stretched his arms out wide.

"Think I look a bit lonely here? Well watch this!" He snapped his fingers and immediately he was surrounded by holographic people walking in the street, as a column of plain-clothed bots marched out from a side door to enter the throng of people on the arena floor.

"Representing people from across the Association, our 'people' will create a bustling metropolis. The best scriptwriters in the business have created scenes and performances inside the buildings. Check out our beam site for competitions on identifying some of our people here. You may also catch a glimpse of our favourite aliens from the first challenge."

Grinning widely, he gestured around himself. "Holos see. They pass right through me but appear solid and convincing. This one" – he put his hand out, bumping a bot on the arm – "is solid." Wearing a soldier's uniform, the bot smiled at him. As if on cue, the bot changed its identity to one of a gladiator and walked into the crowd.

"We have identity changers and solid bots in real clothing – see how many you can spot. Hey look, there's the queen."

An elderly woman wearing a blue jacket, a sash and a small silver crown walked slowly, waving one hand at the crowd, the other clasping a white handbag. A small four-legged animal waddled behind her.

Walking away from the Temple, Doc smiled. "Swing the cameras around if you will." He tried not to make it sound too rehearsed.

Erected at the opposite end to the Temple was a stage with a mechanical device set on top. It consisted of a high wooden frame with a heavy metal blade suspended between two uprights. Two people stood next to it dressed in dark clothing with black hoods over their heads.

"We start with a sponsored execution." He raised an eyebrow. "Remember that device from the previous challenge? Don't lose your head thinking about it."

He walked and smiled for a few steps in front of the camera. "Well there you have it. The sets, the people, a spectacular arena for our last challenge. Back to you both." He motioned his hand up towards the Temple steps. A camera floating above the crowds tracked along to the Temple steps, following them up to the presenters.

"Thanks, Doc. The tension is certainly building. We can't wait."

Large screens positioned each side of the presenters showed images of the challengers in a holding room, the stress clear on their faces. Guards ensured there were no last-minute problems. Xax and Sereen stood back to back posing with their weapons, their faces genuinely serious as opposed to the usual grimacing for the cameras. A subscreen showed them testing their weapons earlier in the day. Both carried incendiary muskets, incorporating a flame stream and small flame ball grenades. Additionally, Xax carried a laser bolt pistol and Sereen an electro-tipped knife, her favourite weapon.

"Place your bets with our friends at AssocBetting. Who are your credits on to stay alive the longest? Which exterminator will get the first kill? Be back soon, after a break. You cannot afford to miss this!" Theo said.

***

With inane commercials playing on the live feed, Brell watched Smiler shouting at the youth. The large man stood tentatively holding an image frame.

"Boss ..." he said.

"What have we here? Lover boy, I think."

The image frame held in front of Brell's face displayed 3D images of her and Gorst, relaxed, laughing on a mini break. A wonderful time a few months ago, before all this crap.

Smiler stamped on the frame. "You won't see him again."

"What else have you found, Bim? Hand it over."

Sheepishly, Bim pulled out a pair of underpants from his pocket, which Smiler took and dangled in front of Brell's face.

"Bim likes his souvenirs, you know – a keepsake from our victims."

Remaining silent and showing no emotion, Brell winked at Smiler, who subsequently threw the garment to Bim. "Here."

"Boss ..." Bim said, pocketing his treasure.

Despite the desperation, Brell felt like laughing, as the knickers belonged to Lottie, a large comfortable pair of black Police Corps-style underpants to be exact, bought the other day. Lottie said they made her feel more professional.

Pictures of Gorst caused an internal wobble. He was unaware of her predicament, and, used to her not replying straight away to messages, she hoped he was not included in Smiler's plans.

As Smiler checked on his operatives and watched the show, all she could do was await her fate when the challenge ended.

### Chapter 41 – The corridor

The background music and audience cheers could be heard within the main service corridor which encircled the studio arena. Security guards patrolled on glide bikes, keeping eyes on numerous staff and bots utilising the corridor, many of whom would be involved in the aftershow party. Performers in bright-coloured clothing with gaudy make-up mingled with waiters, as general supply transporters carefully picked their way through the pedestrians. A control room, placed on high alert since Smiler's failed attempt to get Mayleth's implants, monitored the corridors with image and invisi security scanners.

A four-person buggy slowly traversed the corridor, its front seats occupied by a male and a female wearing technician uniforms. Their bulky holdalls rested on the seats behind them.

Seeing a small delivery vehicle with a large beer barrel secured in the back driving towards them, they slowed down to let it pass. Though there was sufficient space for both vehicles, the buggy driver didn't want to endanger the foot traffic. The other driver, wearing a colourful jacket, white facial make-up and a large red nose, gave a thank you wave.

The buggy continued until the passenger nudged the driver, who promptly pulled over to stop alongside an interior wall. Grabbing their holdalls, they climbed out of the buggy, pausing upon seeing a security officer slowing down.

"What's happening?"

"Technical issue inside. Just need to tweak a spiral electronic simbulator. It's gone into sub overload – could be dangerous to studio staff."

"I see. Identity?"

Having scanned their identity tags to confirm with the control room that the technical job was required, the security officer rode off. Waving a wristband at the door's security lock, the technicians entered the service tunnel.

They proceeded to walk along the metal gangway as the loud sounds of the challenge reverberated from the other side of the wall.

### Chapter 42 – Our sponsor tonight

"It's time to meet our challengers."

Fireworks crackled, lights flashed, music swirled.

"The first is Huilette, a follower of Daa'shin, who may be praying for his life tonight. He is sponsored by Xykwickbins Quad Crust, the cheesiest thing in the galaxy."

Wearing white breeches with a loose white shirt, he appeared through a doorway onto of the edge of the presenter's terrace. Theo and Lexi discreetly stood to one side as Huilette walked down the steps.

During his descent, side screens showed highlights of interviews and his best moments on the previous two challenges. Rhythmic music added to the atmosphere. A guard monitored his movements in case he went off script.

On reaching the bottom, a tumbril cart pulled by a large horse appeared through a pall of smoke, stopping in front of him. Small advertising screens along the sides of the cart displayed the sponsor's name. Stepping inside, he held onto the rails as it lurched off down the street towards the guillotine.

Mayleth's heart beat faster each time the door opened for the next person to be called. Aware of being the last challenger to leave, she waited in silence, feeling faint with anticipation whilst she wrung her hands. Her long dress and white cap itched.

Stumbling down the Temple steps, she considered tripping intentionally to injure herself – perhaps it would be sufficient for her disqualification. In amongst the music and fireworks, she heard her voice booming out with snippets of past interviews. She swallowed, her trembling legs stuttering again, before she reached the street at the bottom.

Once inside the cart, she examined the arena buildings. What horrors lay inside? Something embarrassing, no doubt. She wished she could have spoken to her brother, though he would have joked about betting on the other challengers. The guards walking behind the cart, appeared unhappy with their costumes – they constantly fiddled with their triangular hats.

Her shoulders slumped on seeing the piece of equipment that Williams had talked about nonstop when planning the previous series. A piece of Inhab-47 history. A tall machine with a wide slanted blade for beheading prisoners. She remembered it from the Paris holo world.

As the cart stopped, a guard approached to lift the rear tailgate.

"Prisoner Mayleth," he said in a loud, rehearsed voice.

Mayleth stepped lightly off the cart and two guards pulled at her arms; they led her to the bottom of the stage steps. She breathed lightly. Though told it was a stunt to kick off the show, she wondered if they had inserted a real blade.

To the sound of drumming, guards pushed her up the steps, making her stumble. After tying her wrists behind her back, an executioner led her towards a long wooden board. Hands held her firmly against the board as it was tilted and locked in a horizontal position. Her chin was lifted over a half moon shaped support as a length of shaped wood was lowered onto the back of her neck. She stared into an empty basket, swallowing deeply.

The drummers stopped.

Tied and prone, her neck exposed, she waited for the drop. A grating sound started as the uprights started to tremble. The blade was on its way.

She squeezed her eyes shut before holding her breath.

Thud.

A large round of applause sounded, followed by cheering.

" _And Mayleth nearly went to a far, far better place."_

Opening her eyes, Mayleth felt an itch developing in her left leg and wondered if she needed the privy. The board was tilted back up and her hands were untied. She noticed the name of a sponsor written on the guillotine blade.

Colonoids.

A product used to relieve excessive wind. Feeling light-headed, she walked to the rear of the stage with the guards. On entering a small room, she heard the commentator more clearly now.

" _That's all the challengers. Time for a break whilst they change clothes and take up their starting positions. Be right back soon."_

### Chapter 43 – Predator

"Not there? You've been watching them all afternoon." Smiler paused. "Have you searched the place thoroughly?"

" _Yeh, no signs of anything."_

"Obliterate the place, then join the studio team as backup. See if you can manage that." Tossing the comms bracelet, he picked up a cup and threw it at Brell, hitting the wall. "Frackfucking useless fraggers."

Though enjoying Smiler's frustration, she knew it would ratchet up the violence.

Red-faced, Smiler brought up his hand. "Where are they? You're up to something, aren't you? Where's that robot of yours? Out shopping?"

Remaining passive, Brell intentionally diverted her eyes.

Another stinging slap snapped her neck sideways. Fingers dug into her cheeks.

"Where are they? ... Bim, pass us a bottle of intox," he said loudly. "As twathead over there" – he nodded to the youth – "forgot the truth and pain sprays."

"Bim said he would bring them," the youth said, his voice shaking.

Smiler fired him a look suggesting not to answer back, ever again.

He snatched the bottle out of Bim's hand.

Opening the irreplaceable Inhab-47 whisky, Smiler squeezed Brell's lips and poured in the liquid. Pushing her tongue against her teeth and spitting outwards prevented much of the intox getting into her mouth. Most of it ran down her chin onto her blouse. Finally, he emptied the contents over her face and flung the bottle away.

Unable to stop herself swallowing a few gulps, the liquid hit her stomach - the intox effect following shortly after. In her estimation, it wasn't enough to make her too drunk – perhaps instead it would give her strength. However, for effect she smiled, dribbled, and gave a short laugh.

"Where are they?"

"Shagging," Brell said, trying to slur her words. She knew if Smiler gained possession of a truth spray or similar, the effects of the whisky-style intox could invalidate any answers.

Like a predator, Smiler transferred his weight from one foot to the other, his hands extended, fingers spread, ready to pounce. As his hands moved towards her breasts she wondered when he would start the sexual abuse. In trying to rip her blouse open, he only popped two buttons due to the placement of the restraints. Bim and the youth stared at Smiler's frantic behaviour, waiting for his next outburst.

After pulling at his tie, Smiler brushed his shoulders and smoothed over the hair strands on the crown of his head.

"They're due to start the proper bit of the show now, boss," the youth said, hoping to sound useful again.

Silently, Smiler found a chair and sat down to watch the events.

"Okay." His voice was calmer. "Okay, we're good. Bim, keep searching. Boy, get me some water and turn up the volume. Let's see a master strategy at work."

### Chapter 44 – Recoil

Mayleth rubbed her neck.

"In there, drink the stimulant and get changed," a guard said, pointing to a doorway.

Entering what appeared to be a storeroom, Mayleth sat down next to her new clothes. She glugged down the cherry-flavoured stimulant, to minimise the chances of fainting. Two plain, unclothed bots stood in a corner, their eyes closed. A couple of duds amongst all the others, she thought. Next to them, assorted equipment boxes stuffed with wires and tubes were stacked on top of each other.

She stripped off her clothes, put on a plain pair of trousers, a shirt, and a loose jacket. At least they were unmarked or unnumbered. Leaning the back of her head against a wall, she closed her eyes. The noise of the arena was muffled, distant. A moment of calm before the madness.

Her eyes opened with a start.

"It's time. Follow me." A female guard popped her head around the doorframe.

Walking along a side street, they entered the Tower, built to resemble the interior of an old castle. It had high stone walls, flagstones for flooring, burning torches and a dungeon complete with torture equipment.

"In there."

As Mayleth entered a small cell, the metal door slammed shut.

Grasping the bars, she saw that her fellow challengers were secure in their own cells.

"We can take them out," Nesta said in the cell next to hers. With her long hair tied into a ponytail and her sleeves rolled up, she was ready for the fight ahead.

"If we stick together," Ugga said back, looking at the others. "Yeah, if we take out both exterminators, they'll have to let us go. The audience would go nuts if anything else happened."

"Perhaps we can," Huilette said in his soft voice. He wouldn't have been out of place in a temple, leading a religious service. Which he used to do before he killed the congregation.

"What do think, missy bug up your arse?" Ugga said, leering at Mayleth.

Staying silent, Mayleth looked away from Ugga's glare. An audience question the other night had asked what would happen if the exterminators suffered injury and the answer was deflected. Perhaps there was some hope, though no one else was going to save her now. Apart from the ill fated attempt at scanning her implants, no other efforts had been made by the Tinker or anyone else to gain her release. Resigned to her fate, if anything, she was more concerned about receiving another mauling by Ugga.

"Get ready," the guard said.

She jiggled her feet and limbs in an attempt to get moving. At least give it a go. It was exactly what her brother would have said, in his younger days.

"We're back. The challengers are in position. Let's get ready for boom, fire, and ash."

_Boom_.

At the sound of the start cannon, the cell doors unlocked. Waiting, Mayleth felt relieved to see Ugga and the other two rush out of the dungeon. Tentatively taking a few steps outside, her hands strayed to the torture equipment on a nearby table. It was fake plaster – no real weapons there.

Outside, the street teemed with holos of varying skin and clothing colours, giving a measure of cover. But, where to? There was no sign of the others or the exterminators. The building next to the Tower was as good as any. Staying within the busiest part of the crowd, she entered the Vegas casino.

It was brightly lit, with a loud bing-binging noise in the background. Mayleth looked for a place to hide. It was full of people, many standing around green felt-covered tables, others staring at bulky gambling machines. The programme makers had resurrected an audience favourite from Brell's challenge. A tall man wearing a white sparkly jacket and trousers stood on a small stage singing.

" _Las Vegas_ ," he sang in a crooning voice.

Making her way to a long bar, staff mimicked filling up beer glasses. Realising the bar was real, she hunkered down behind it, jumping when a bot waitress in a short dress appeared. Working to its routine, the bot put glasses onto a tray and mingled with the crowd.

Peering around the room, Mayleth saw a static tableau. A woman dressed in a short silver dress with a tall plume on her head stood next to three men wearing black-and-white-striped suits. Hunched slightly, they held a barrelled instrument with both hands, which Mayleth realised could be a crude weapon. Perhaps they were alien villains. Curiosity got the better of her. Crawling out from behind the bar, she grabbed one of the weapons. Holding it in the same way as the dummy, her fingers naturally fell onto the trigger.

_Bam, bam, bam_.

The gun's recoil sent Mayleth's light body backwards as the bullets hit the ceiling.

Surprised and delighted, she realised she might have a way out of this. Examining the weapon, she saw that it was a type of automatic rifle, with a large round canister containing ammunition set underneath the main stock.

" _Now our challengers have settled in, it's time for the exterminators,"_ the commentator said, lengthening each word deliberately.

Their signature theme tune blared out with big bass sounds and spiralling loops, drowning the singer and machine noises in the casino. Scooting back behind the bar, Mayleth held the weapon in both hands, moving it left and right expectantly.

Boom.

A fireball erupted outside. Crouching, she kept her eyes on the entrance. Xax, in an almost rehearsed manner, walked through the flames and smoke and stopped just inside.

"Come out and meet your maker," he said, his voice booming out.

Xax turned his attention to the singer, who continued his energetic performance, hips swaying in time to the music. Sneering, Xax pointed his musket at the singer. A plume of fire shot out, burning the stage and everything tangible to a crisp. The singer continued performing despite his holo outline standing on a burning floor. Grinning, Xax turned towards the bar.

Ducking down, Mayleth gripped her weapon. With sweaty hands and her heart pumping double-time, she needed to make a decision. Xax may have been given her location for a little payback for his humiliation in the second challenge.

She could hear his big boots clunking as he plodded towards the bar. Realising her best option was to run, she noticed that due to his desire to destroy the singer, he had changed position and now didn't obstruct the entrance.

Standing up, she aimed, and let rip. The weapon, huge in her small hands, jolted back and forth. Bullet casings flew to one side as she emptied the weapon in the exterminator's direction.

Xax stopped in surprise. Mayleth's aim was off, but not before bullets ricocheted off his chest armour into the fleshy part of an arm. Recovering quickly, he fired flames in her direction.

Uncertain if she'd hit anything, Mayleth ducked down and ran in a half-crouched position behind the bar. Flames licked near to her, and with the air boiling, the heat made her skin sting. Time to run. Light from outside the building shone brightly through the smoke and mayhem.

Sweeping the flame from bar to exit, Xax was too slow. Mayleth managed to escape.

" _A near miss. Mayleth has made it out of the casino, scorched but alive,"_ the commentator said. _"What excitement."_

Mayleth slipped inside the street crowd, managing to catch her breath. A small group of soldiers wearing red uniforms and tall furry hats marched ahead of her, making her stop. Glancing back, she couldn't see Xax.

" _Sereen is going after Ugga but has her hands full with Nesta and Huilette outside Bangkok World."_

She wondered if the others had managed to work together. Not intent on finding out, she stayed within the middle of the crowd.

" _Xax is on his way to help Sereen."_

At least she would be left alone for a while whilst the action focussed on others. Finding a real bench, she sat down, laying the weapon over her knees as it felt comforting, though empty of ammunition.

Sounds of fighting and shouting, booms and bangs came from Bangkok World. Hopefully all three challengers had been wiped out.

" _What a fight. Sereen is holding her own against the challengers despite their attacks with crude weapons. What a spectacle. Check your bets, everyone ..._

Wait ... Ladies and gentlemen, Huilette has received a serious wound and is bleeding. Xax has just turned up and is burning the body to make sure."

Mayleth knew the action would swing back to her. Briefly, she thought of her brother and her favourite assistant bot – there was no one else. Swinging her feet, as she used to do as a child, she sighed and stood up, uncertain where to go.

Ugga, closely followed by Nesta, emerged through the crowd a few metres away, running towards the Tower. He was holding his chest, as a large bloody stain was growing underneath his hand.

" _Back to the Tower for Ugga and Nesta. How long will Ugga last with his chest wound? Mayleth appears to be contemplating the meaning of life. Or not."_

Mayleth kept a lookout for the exterminators. Sereen, wounded in a leg and arm, limped in the same direction as the other two, her face stern. She gripped the incendiary musket in the ready position.

Xax, however, did not appear.

Feeling her chest tighten, Mayleth swallowed, trying not to overpanic. Still holding her weapon, she walked in the direction of the Temple.

A trail of fire shot out over her head. Xax was playing with her, expectant of a chase or going after an easier target. Panicking, Mayleth ran into a throng of people, bouncing off a line of marching soldiers, which diverted her towards Rome. With its gladiator arena, she hoped to find a weapon or a place to hide.

" _And Mayleth is keen to fight with the gladiators."_

### Chapter 45 – Boom

"Yes. At last," Smiler said, exultant, punching the air.

Almost playfully, he patted Brell's cheek. "A nice diversion by the soldiers, don't you think ... not a coincidence."

He picked up his comms bracelet. "Expo, are you ready?"

" _Ready. Explosive compound in place."_

Smiler watched as Mayleth stepped into the building. People fought inside the sandy-floored mini arena. Sweaty, bloody combatants thrust and parried at each other with assorted handheld weapons. A holo audience stood watching the fights dressed in white sheets tied at the waist. They jeered loudly at the gladiators.

"Come on," Smiler said towards the screens. "Come on, you bitch, get your sweaty arse over to the far wall."

Smiler turned to Brell and winked.

Mayleth, mingling with the roaring crowd, repeatedly peered over her shoulder.

"Standby, expo," Smiler said.

Uneasy with the tension, Bim stayed outside in the corridor peering in, as the youth remained where he was, fearful of making any noise.

All eyes, including Brell's, concentrated on watching Mayleth working her way through the audience as Xax entered the building. Brell noticed that he'd been stepping cautiously since being shot by Mayleth, and was aware of the attack on Sereen.

"Stay away you big lump." Smiler gripped his communicator tightly. "Stay away."

Mayleth stopped and hesitated.

"Don't stop. Keep going, you stupid bitch," Smiler said, urging Mayleth with his hands in front of the screen. "Where are the diversion bots to get her nearer the wall?" he said to the screen.

Brell grasped the chair arm.

"Expo, standby. She's not near enough. May have to breach and grab."

" _Okay, we're ready and standing by,"_ a female voice said.

Xax made his way through the crowds.

From an overhead view, it showed that Mayleth was standing rooted to the spot as Xax made his way from the far side of the arena towards her position, levelling his weapon.

In an apparent moment of decision, Mayleth turned as if making her way towards the exit, seemingly unaware of Xax approaching from the other side of the arena. Smiler's attention darted across the screens, calculating her position and distance from the studio's external wall.

"Go, go go! Grab her! She's ten metres ahead of you!" he said, his voice strained.

After a low "poof" sound, a section of the studio wall crumpled and vaporised. It producing a small billowing of dust that was barely noticeable on a side camera. Because it occurred immediately in front of Xax, he instinctively fired flame grenades and blasted the area of the wall, believing himself to be under attack by a challenger.

" _It appears Xax is attempting to burn down the arena. He missed Mayleth, who is making her way out of Rome,"_ the commentator said, unaware, as were the viewing audience, of the security breach.

In amongst the bank of screens, the youth replayed the images. Smiler's explosives technicians, a male and female couple who had readied themselves to sprint forward to grab Mayleth, ended up writhing and frazzling within the intense inferno. Their bodies, and the surrounding sections of corridor, almost evaporated within the black smoke.

"Can't see them amongst the smoke, boss," the youth said. Staring at another screen full of text, he said, "Security have been told to ignore it, to keep the show going."

Brell felt the weight of Smiler's punch to her jaw.

"Boy, get me that Gretchen bitch at the studios." After pausing for the connection, Smiler said, "Gretchen, what happened?" He listened for a while, then said," Yes I know you managed to divert her with robots towards Rome, but she started to leave." He paced across the room.

"Now, is not the time to offer me credits. I have the images of you and your lover to send to chitchat beam sites. In fact, I can personally deliver the images to your grandmother. I'm sure she will like them. Do you want me to do that?"

Smiler waited a moment and grinned. "No, no, you don't understand, my dear. It's time for Plan B. You will press the power button in one minutes' time." He chucked the cube at the youth and went over to Brell.

"Studio team? Power out in one minute. You know what to do."

Relieved that Smiler's attempt on Mayleth had failed, Brell hoped Scrivvens was safe. The call to this Gretchen, though, clearly meant Smiler had other tricks up his sleeve.

"Ready for something special? Once the studio is in chaos, they'll delay the show. Prisoners will be returned to their cells. Boom Bang. The team blow their way in, snatch her and get out, whilst those bumbling guards fall over each other. Simple but effective."

He checked his timer again and waited, but nothing happened.

"Gretchen?"

"Well press it again." Smiler tapped his lips. "And?" He looked at the screen, his eyes narrowing. "Nothing? Gretchen, your granny is not going to be very impressed with the images," he said, pressing a button. "And there they go."

" _Lights are still on,"_ the studio team said.

"Been a technical hitch. Standby for further instructions," Smiler said.

Straightening her head, Brell spat out more blood. At least Mayleth was still in one piece ... for the time being.

### Chapter 46 – Flames

Upon hearing the blast from Xax's weapon a few metres behind her, Mayleth quickened her pace through the crowd in order to keep her eye on the backside of the figure walking in front of her.

Having nearly made it to the rear of the arena, panic had overwhelmed her. Indecisive, numb, she couldn't decide what to do next. Searching the crowd, she contemplated whether to jump down into the arena and try to find a weapon. Her attention fell onto the backside of a figure who brushed into her. It was a male with a beard, wearing plain blue trousers, a multicoloured shirt, a brown waistcoat, and a band of fabric tied around his forehead. A variety of shapes and symbols adorned his clothes, but the small image of a Heelly, a type of domestic cat, caught her eye. Her favourite animal throughout her life – her most beloved one had been stuffed and placed in her old producer's office.

The male made his way out of Rome, through the crowd, towards Bangkok World. Explosive sounds boomed across the street. Despite this, the "people of the metropolis" walked around as per their programmed routines. Their smiling faces were at odds with the deadly struggle of the three remaining challengers.

Whizz bang.

She felt the air move as an explosive bolt flashed behind her, burying itself in an ornate street lamp.

There was a rush of air and then a grenade burst into flames nearby.

Crouching, she kept moving, as there were no other options.

" _Boom. It's all going up in smoke. Our live studio audience are grateful for the invisi-shields lining the viewing gallery."_

Mayleth approached the grand entrance to Bangkok World, with its steep curved roof lines, and narrowly avoided stepping on the burnt remains of Huilette. Blood, as well as the charred doorway, was testament to the recent skirmish with Sereen and Xax.

Inside, she stumbled into a nightclub. Three women and two men gyrated on a small stage. Naked dancers moved and thrust their lithe oiled bodies towards the audience in time with throbbing music. Mayleth, transfixed by the unexpected nudity, lost sight of the figure she was following.

_Wham_.

The explosion by the doorway jolted her back into the present. She moved between tables of people watching the dancers, as waiters walked to and fro with trays of drinks.

" _Ho ho, Mayleth is hunting for a weapon. Xax is breathing down her neck."_

A stream of fire slammed into the stage as the holo performers continued to dance.

Mayleth emerged through the audience to see a waitress standing by a door holding a tray. Wearing a wrap-around dress and tunic, she had a silk scarf around her shoulders. Mayleth saw the small Heelly design on the scarf.

Whoosh.

A long plume of flame streamed through the nightclub, and Mayleth felt the heat on her back as she reached a door which led to a wide stairwell.

" _Well those dancers are now hot, hot, hot, just like Doc said."_

The nightclub erupted in flames. Mayleth's eyes watered as smoke engulfed the wooden stairwell. Paintings and silks lined the walls, their edges curling with the heat. The soles of the waitress's shoes could be seen as she neared the top step.

As Mayleth leapt up the stairs, an explosive bolt hit the ceiling above her, the broiling flame and smoke enveloping her as she ran into the corridor. She patted her hair furiously believing it to be on fire. Her leg stung. Glancing down, she picked out a shard of wood sticking into her calf. Blood trickled from the wound as she limped along, vaguely seeing the waitress entering a doorway at the far end of the corridor.

"Getting hot," Xax said, roaring triumphantly from the bottom of the stairs.

As she stumbled along, watching her step, Mayleth looked up to see two men dressed in plain clothing walk past her down the stairs on a preprogrammed route. She glanced at the males but saw nothing distinctive. Coughing, she steadied herself on the wall, edging towards the doorway.

Before opening the door, she turned to see Xax's massive outline amongst the smoke and flames back along the corridor. His face and clothes were streaked in soot, his teeth white within his large grin.

"Ready?" he called out, lumbering towards her.

She shut the door behind her in the vain hope it would delay Xax. On another day she would have admired the large bedroom with its beautiful handmade silks hanging from the walls. A female bot wearing a see-through negligee sat on a bed smoking, oblivious to Mayleth's presence, as if having just satisfied her recent male clients.

It became evident there was no exit door and the windows were false. With no weapons to hand or Heelly signs or symbols, her only hope would be to hide, in the vain belief that Sereen would strike the two remaining challengers.

An ornate cupboard was too narrow and the bed too low to the floor. A wide wooden storage box by the wall seemed the best place to hide. There were no signs or symbols other than the waitress's drinks tray on the floor nearby.

As if in slow motion, she lifted the lid and started to step inside. The door crashed open and Xax stood still, his grin widening.

"Payback," he said, roaring for the benefit of the watching audience and his own relief at finally ending the chase.

Not knowing what else to do, Mayleth knelt inside the box, lowered the lid, aware it might be the last thing she did. Her breath was rasping, her brain unable to process the moment. She shut her eyes, wishing for it to be quick. At least it would be an end to it.

An ecstatic Xax milked his triumph by taking his time. Finally, planting both feet apart, he levelled his weapon.

Flames erupted from his musket, enveloping the storage box.

### Chapter 47 – Motionless

Through the throbbing pain in her jaw, Brell watched Smiler's rage. She tensed on seeing Xax wave a continuous plume of flame from side to side, only stopping when the fuel cell ran empty.

The exterior of the storage box soon burned through, as did the wall and floor, though its fire-resistant qualities stopped the whole building from collapsing. He poked Mayleth's remains with his boot.

" _And Mayleth has been barbequed to a crisp. Only Ugga and Nesta remain. Ladies and gentlemen, we are going to take a break for our challengers to get patched up. Be right back for the conclusion. Place your bets."_

As Smiler stood motionless, his eyes fixed on the screen, Brell readied herself for the inevitable retribution. Licking inside her mouth, she spat onto the floor and then ducked as a mug of stimulant flew in her direction. It bounced off her chest.

She tugged at her restraints, noting that they were still tight and unforgiving. Tightening her backside and thigh muscles, she leant forward a few centimetres to give relief to her spine. Opening her knees and tilting her weight from side to side moved the chair fractionally. Once a sturdily built antique, the chair showed its age.

Smiler swung a punch at Bim, but failed to connect, so instead he kicked the youth.

"What have I been paying you for?" He said, his voice roaring. His face was red and angry, his attention darting between the two men.

Punching his hand, he locked eyes on Brell.

"You." He pointed a finger at her. "You are going to pay double. Yes, double the fun, double the pain."

Kicking out again at the youth, he swung his foot but missed, making himself stumble awkwardly. Aware of the looks from the others, he pushed over a table, the equipment toppling onto the floor.

"Pick it up."

The youth scurried on his hands and knees as Bim tiptoed out of the room.

Tightening her shoulders and grabbing the armrests, Brell waited as Smiler turned towards her. His personal cube chimed. He yanked it roughly from his pocket and activated the screen.

"Yes, Tinker." He tried to make his voice sound calm. "Yes, Tinker, I know, up in flames, I saw it." He paced out into the corridor and returned mid conversation. "The explosives team got their timing wrong. They were not the best people." He paused. "Yes, Tinker, I understand. Yes, there may be something at the studio. I'll go there and investigate."

"Bim, get in here."

The big man came into the room, head bowed, and cautiously stood by the doorway.

"Plan C. It's all gone tits up. We're not travelling to the studios, it's a trap. I need to contact our air transporter." He glanced at his chronometer. "Must speak to this bitch first ... see if there are other avenues before making the call."

Fingers pinched Brell's earlobe; her head was yanked to one side.

"Are you involved in any trickery?"

A stinging slap to her face made her zone out. She swallowed and then focussed on a short laser pistol pointing at her face. Give him no satisfaction, she thought. "Fuck you, Smiler," Brell said, her mouth bubbling with blood.

"She talks. Ha ha!"

Brell held her breath, waiting for his next move.

Cold metal stroked her cheek. Smiler's eyes were alight, his forehead sweaty. The muzzle pressed into her neck.

"Where shall I start? Here?"

With sounds and images continuing in the background, Brell's only focus was the weapon. Breathing as easily as she could manage, her heartbeat soared. Smiler grinned, wrapped in thought.

From her neck, he trailed the pistol across her shoulders, between her breasts, to her stomach, and to her thighs, until reaching her knees.

"Kneecap. Wouldn't be able to walk. Replacement effective but expensive, especially if there's nothing left of both of them. What have you done? Extraction in her cell? During a medical? Time delayed? False replays edited into the live show? What?"

Playing for time, Brell thought, would be in her favour. Eventually someone would raise the alarm. Studio production staff were too busy dealing with the live show to worry about Brell's absence. Scrivvens, Brell remembered, voiced concerns regarding personal safety, but currently he was working with the others.

Laying his pistol on the floor, Smiler forcefully pushed under her skirt, and his fingers gripped her thighs before feeling their way to her groin. Smiler stared into Brell's eyes as he ripped at her tights, pulling off the material in strands down to her ankle restraints. He finished by exposing her feet.

"Which is your least favourite one?" he said, breathing heavily.

He pushed the weapon onto her big toe.

"Which one?" he said, shouting into her face, running the muzzle across her toes.

"Big one, little one, one in the middle?"

Brell sensed Smiler's voice had relaxed. A man relishing his complete control of an individual. The master of life or death.

"Where is her implant? What have you done?" he said, lowering his voice, gazing directly at Brell.

The muzzle pressed hard into the lower joint of her middle toe.

Pzzz.

Scorching pain, intense and shocking, jarred her to her core. A smell of scorched and burnt flesh filled the room.

"It's okay, it's okay, the burning stems the flow of blood." Smiler tapped her foot before taking out a handkerchief from his top pocket to mop his brow.

Through the haze of the pain, Brell heard a mumbled conversation. Spitting and clearing her mouth, she lifted her head.

Smiler stood in amongst the jumble of furniture and equipment remonstrating with the youth. Sweating, shaking with his hands in the air, the youth stuttered a reply which Brell couldn't hear. Vague sounds of the challenge continued from the holo screens.

A single laser bolt fired. The youth collapsed clutching his chest.

Breathing through gritted teeth, Smiler faced Brell.

Heat from the weapon barrel, one centimetre from her forehead, made her jerk her head back.

"Is this how I should end it?"

Silence.

Staring ahead, her eyes unfocussed, she swallowed and waited.

There was a deafening crunch, then darkness.

### Chapter 48 – Just in case

"Regg, Message Mack," the Tinker said as he popped a small cake into his mouth. "Smiler and his team, I want them found. Get Mack to try Smiler's hotel first. Tie them up and get in the Sunshine Sisters, just in case he's holding anything back from me."

"Yes, sir."

"Brenchsucker. Should never have taken him on. All up in flames. Everything."

"Yes, sir."

"Sort it out, Regg. Now!" he threw a plate of food across the room.

"Yes, sir."

The Tinker's stomach rumbled. "Smiler's plans and strategy were thorough – we checked them together, Regg. Always a risk and a gamble, of course, but managing to divert the woman to Rome with the soldiers worked."

"Unfortunately the trigger-happy exterminator couldn't have been foreseen, sir," Regg said.

"His blackmailed technician was useless – failed to pull the power. We should have gone in and blown the place up, like I said, Regg. Now Mayleth is dead, implants gone. What a mess."

"Sir, I have Mack."

"Hey, boss, we hovered near the hotel just in case. The rooms are empty. Looks like they've not been here for a while."

"Thanks, Mack. Ask around, will you? Get your technical man to track him. High priority, Mack."

"Sure thing, boss."

"Get all our people out of the studios, Regg, back to a safe house and wait for instructions."

"Yes, sir."

***

Deputy Mourge swore repeatedly, not holding back. His two assistants showed no emotion, being used to his outbursts.

"Prepare Miss Sturlach's prison recall document and arrest warrant, will you? Embellish it as much as you can before I sign it off. As for the others, select the worst two Police Corps patrol areas and compile their demotion papers. Let's see how they like front-line shifts."

"And their bots, sir?"

"Destroy them."

### Chapter 49 – Focus

The sensation of a large pair of hands running over her legs woke Brell up from a black fog, the top of her head seemingly on fire. Her blouse felt wet and there was a strong smell of intox. Squinting, she saw Bim appear in her vision, his lips wet and gaping.

"Where's Smiler?" she said, realising she was still restrained in the armchair. She noticed the youth's body lying still amongst his equipment. Not a dream then.

"All gone titties up. Boss outside transmitting our position for transport."

Smiler walked into the room clutching a communicator.

"She awake, Bim?"

"Yes, boss."

"Our air transporter will meet us outside in fifteen minutes. It'll take us to our lockup. Which means" – he patted Brell's cheek – "you sit here nicely and think about the pleasure we'll have in an hour's time. I can't wait."

Brell tensed her arms and legs, but there was still little wriggle room within the restraints. It was unlikely anyone would visit the apartment in the next few minutes. The headbanging effects of the laser blast had worn off any intoxicating effects from the whisky.

"What do you want, Smiler?" she said.

"That's my girl." Leaning in to her face, he continued. "Where's Inspector Scrivvens? Was there a last-minute lawful reprise at the studio? Did you slot in some prerecorded scenes with your studio mates?"

"What are we bargaining with here?"

"Your life?"

"Come on, Smiler, you won't keep me alive."

Smiler pointed a finger at her. "Correct. Top of the class. Anything you want to say or offer?"

"Fuck off."

"No need for swearing, my beautiful blue lady." Smiler brushed her cheek.

Heart thumping, she looked about, strategies and possibilities waning by the minute. She thought of Gorst, wanting to see his smiling face again.

"Bim, we'll untie her ankles, then truss them together. We can't transport her in the chair."

"Boss."

Brell tightened her shoulders, and tried to resist the pain of a knife as it snicked her skin as well as the ankle bonds. Rotating her ankles, she enjoyed brief freedom as blood flowed unrestricted into her veins.

A hand grabbed each ankle. Resisting, she kicked out, but their grip, and especially Bim's, was strong. She drove her ankles down, bent her knees, squeezed her thighs and brought up her legs, managing to loosen Smiler's grip.

No words were spoken, just grunts, groans and heavy breathing as the men fought with her. Her skirt rucked up as she struck out to frustrate and weaken their hold. She thrashed harder on seeing Smiler reaching for a long length of self-sticking material.

His comms cube chimed.

Continually angling her thighs and twisting her backside, she frustrated their attempts at binding her.

Again Smiler's cube chimed.

"Stand back, leave her legs for a moment," Smiler said, activating a screen and stepping sideways.

Brell rested her legs to get her breath back. Waste time and frustrate Smiler, she reiterated to herself.

"Transport delayed due to air traffic. We also need to resend our position – weather problems apparently." Sweating, Smiler swept a hand across his forehead. "Bim, don't touch her – watch her, and wait until I return. We'll smack her a bit first, then we'll soon get those ankles and hands tied up." He left the room.

"No funny business." Bim took out a small pistol, like Smiler's but older.

With Bim examining her body, Brell tensed her thighs outwards against the arms of the chair. During the previous attack, she believed the chair joints had been loosened.

As Bim tilted his head to gaze up her skirt, she pulled sideways with her wrists and heard a faint crack.

"Stop that, miss," Bim said, glancing to the door then back to her skirt.

Shifting her weight, she rocked from side to side and pushed with her now freed feet. Toppling over, she thudded against the floor. Thrusting her right wrist forward, the chair arm popped out of its joint. Curling her upper body, she tensioned her left arm, cracking the wood.

"Boss?" Bim said, almost to himself.

Homing in on the discarded whisky bottle, she scraped her hands and knees along the floor, the chair seat knocking into her backside. An uncertain and slow Bim pocketed his pistol, took it out, stared at it, and slipped it back.

Muttering, "Don't touch her, Bim," Bim said aloud, reaching towards her.

Brell's fingers grasped the neck of the bottle.

"Stop," Bim said, leaning down, his hands grabbing one of the protruding chair legs attached to base of the seat.

In a quick movement, as Brell leaned on a knee, she wrenched her body and smashed the bottle into his face, catching an eye.

Growling in pain, he put a hand to his cheek. "Boss!" He turned to the door. "Boss!"

Angered, he twisted two legs off the bottom of the chair to stop her moving further away. By doing so he significantly weakened the wooden joint at the apex of the seat and its back.

With Bim blundering towards her and expecting Smiler to reappear, she jerked the seat back and forth until the seat and its back separated. With the chair back still strapped to her chest, and fragments of the chair arms strapped to her wrists, she scrambled onto all fours. Her hands touched the dead youth's body.

"Bim not happy, Boss!" Bim said, still holding his cheek, his fingers wet with blood. With the other hand, he bashed at Brell's trailing feet.

Ignoring the pain, she crawled over the youth's body, feeling a round metal object poke into her stomach. Turning, she frantically patted the youth's clothing.

As a lump of wood bounced off her shoulder, she reached inside a pocket.

It was her jolter. The youth must have found it and kept it for himself, possibly for self-defence against Smiler.

Bim came at her. Taking the blow on her left arm, she shot an electrical bolt into his forearm.

P-zap.

He dropped the chair leg in surprise.

P-zap.

Another jolt into his arm made him falter.

She stood up. There was no sign of Smiler.

With a bare foot, she kicked Bim in his genitals. Utilising an old Police Corps combat move, she kneed him in the groin and punched down onto his meaty neck.

She dragged him by his clothing, and toppled him over. With no time to search for his pistol, she fired a bolt into his backside.

He continued to grunt but stayed prone, temporarily immobile. Stumbling, she headed for the apartment corridor and stepped inside the kitchen to give herself some thinking time. She could hear Smiler's voice near the front door.

"Got it now ... fixed position. Weather problems? I know. Five minutes? Good."

Rustling and stirring sounds came from the living room.

Smiler appeared along the corridor, his face showing frustration at spending too long holding a homing transmitter rather than sorting out his guest.

He paused on hearing Bim's thrashing movements, his face quizzical.

A metre away, Brell edged against the doorway. Holding the jolter steady, she hoped it contained enough charge.

She ran at him.

P-zap. P-zap.

Buckling from the effect of two laser bolts, Smiler collapsed.

"Bitch," he said, legs twitching.

After firing at his chest, she realised the jolter's energy cell was empty.

"Bim ... Bim ..." Smiler said, fumbling in his pocket.

She could hear footsteps from the living room. "She hit me, boss."

Brell ran.

A laser shot zapped behind her as she gasped on reaching the cold air of the outside walkway. Even though she was restricted by the piece of chair still tightly bound to her back, she made it to the elevator. Smiler appeared, with Bim holding him by the waist. He raised his weapon.

P-zap.

With the elevator on another floor, Brell ducked and entered the adjacent staircase. Holding the rail to assist her descent, she heard Smiler shouting threats and insults.

Her bare feet scraped on the concrete as she hopped down the stairs. The door above her screeched open.

"Brell, Brell, Brell! You won't get far. I don't want to shoot you," Smiler's voice echoed. Looking up, she saw his leering face. He was enjoying the chase now his legs were working again.

Doubling her speed, she got to a lower level – her best chance would be to get inside an apartment and call the Police Corps. With three front doors along the walkway, she pressed each reception button. Standing outside the last one, she kept her finger on the holo button whilst staring back.

Smiler appeared, his face smug, walking towards her, hand on the wall steadying himself.

A small holo screen blinked open. "Can I help you?" An elderly man's face appeared, his voice creaky.

"Call Police Corps. There's a man chasing me. He has a weapon."

Smiler stopped and turned towards the stairs, where Bim had just appeared.

"Boss, the transporter's arrived," he said, holding his face.

The apartment door unlocked and slid open.

Standing inside was a man in his seventies wearing a blue dressing gown, pyjamas, and carpet slippers. His short moustache and upright bearing belied his years.

"Come inside quickly, madam."

Standing aside, he allowed Brell to dive in whilst he re-engaged the door.

A faint _p-zap_ hit the wall outside.

She was greeted by warmth and a smell of baking inside the apartment.

The front doorbell chimed.

"Madam, you've been injured. Go along into my living room, Mrs Dorry will look after you."

"Sir, there's a man coming after me. He's dangerous. Don't let him in."

Straightening up, the man ran a finger along his moustache, saying, "Don't worry, madam." He pressed a hidden button on a wall cabinet and a door slid open revealing a row of assorted weapons. Selecting a large-barrelled laser pistol which required two hands to hold it, he levelled it at the door.

Brell's disbelief showed on her face.

"Commodore Xadian, Space Corps, retired. At your service." His eyes gleamed.

She limped into the sitting room.

"Madam, you're wounded and tied to something – let me get it fixed for you," a virtual assistant said, its face elderly and kind.

A utility bot wheeled into the room ready to cut off Brell's restraints and perform a medical scan.

"Hold on," Brell said, "I need to contact Police Corps."

A screen appeared, projected by the utility bot, allowing her to jab at a large red icon.

The bell chimed again.

Brell returned to the corridor and peered at the commodore.

"Hello" – it was Smiler, his voice smooth – "we are undercover Police Corps looking for a dangerous woman. Light blue skin, with a foot and head injury, caused when resisting arrest. You have to turn her over."

"Okay," the commodore said, "I'm opening up."

Brell crept back. This wasn't what she'd expected – the old commodore letting her in and then opening the door to Smiler. She glanced around for a weapon as the front door disengaged.

"What's this?" Smiler said, surprise in his voice.

"Just give me an excuse," the commodore said, levelling the weapon, his voice flat and threatening.

"Sir, I am on Police Corps business. There's a dangerous woman inside."

"You're not coming in."

"Sir, I'm armed. Please put your weapon down."

P-zap.

The commodore fired his weapon to the side of Smiler, into the night air.

"That enough for you? Get away from here. I'm calling the Police Corps. If you're in the Corps, you'll wait for them."

Smiler retreated.

After locking the door, the commodore replaced his weapon.

"Commodore, you've still got it," Brell said.

Running a finger over his moustache and through his thinning grey hair, he said, "I like to look a man in the eye before killing him. Sadly, he didn't give me a reason. Haven't shot the weapon in years, but it felt good. Anyway, Miss Sturlach, I know who you are and noticed you were staying in an apartment above us."

"Thanks, Commodore. I've called the Corps. They're busy tonight, but they're on their way."

"Good, now please return to the living room, let the medical bot do its work, and I'll knock up some get-well juice."

Examining her head wound in a hallway mirror, she saw where the laser bolt had carved a long fleshy gash which ran diagonally from the front left to the rear right of her scalp. Her hair was singed either side of the wound. Though still on an adrenalin rush, after seeing the injury she noticed that her head pounded with pain. As she lifted her left foot a fraction, she saw that her middle toe was missing. A burnt red and black flap of skin remained between the two scorched toes either side.

***

Smiler hurried back to the apartment, slapping Bim to make him move faster. Mindful that Police Corps would be on their way, he was heartenend to see his escape craft making its final descent. He needed to act quickly. Sending Bim into the living room, he walked in behind and shot him three times in the back. Bim collapsed on top of the youth.

"You're injured Bim, no good to me," Smiler said in a flat voice.

Opening a small case he took out three round spheres adjusted a dial and threw one into the middle of the living room. The others were rolled into the kitchen and bedroom.

Without looking behind him, he ran outside to the landing and saw his ride waiting for him. Putting up his thumb towards the pilots position, a side door slid open followed by an extending pair of steps. As he walked inside he heard a low 'poof' sound as the vapour bombs exploded inside the apartment.

With all traces of his activities being destroyed, he sat back in his seat, confident his escape plan would enable him to evade the clutches of the Tinker and Police Corps.

***

After downing one of the commodores special tonics, Brell's wounds were glued, sprayed, and bandaged. Grateful for the restraints to be cut off, she enjoyed bending her spine once again. The commodore conversed with Brell and Dorry, whom Brell found was a virtual version of his late wife. After a distinguished career in the Space Corps, he had been compulsorily retired a few years ago, having reached his seventieth birthday.

"Were you supposed to be at the challenge tonight?" the commodore said.

"Yes, before those ... um ... burglars came in. They thought the apartment was empty and I was at the show. Since my challenge, I get threats and unnecessary attention."

The commodore nodded. Brell was unsure if he believed her, but it was the best she could think of in the circumstances. Smiler could have scarpered when she ran off, but he was the type of person who tied up loose ends. Brell stopped herself from considering what he'd intended to do with her at the lockup, particularly if it involved truth sprays. Taking a swig of water, she forced herself back into the current moment.

"I missed the end of the challenge – who won?" she said.

"Well" – the commodore sat down and picked at his moustache – "Me and Mrs Dorry here placed bets on the Nesta woman, a strong fighter. After the break, both exterminators went after Ugga. Unfortunately, they stumbled across Nesta, who attacked them, but she died in a knife fight with Sereen. That woman has been a credit to the Space Corps. I promoted her boss, you know. We lost credits there," he said, nodding across to Dorry.

"Yes, I know, dear. Better luck next time," Dorry said, her voice matching her age.

"So Ugga won?" Brell said in surprise.

"Well that's the thing. Yes, he did, as they declared him the winner. With all the chaos and noise going on, Xax blundered into him and let loose with his fire musket. He burned the man before the studio could get Xax's attention. He apologised, but said he was so intent on fulfilling his duty for the sake of the fans he didn't hear the signal."

Brell smiled, envisaging a secretive producers' meeting discussing Ugga, hence the sudden commercial break after Mayleth's burning and both exterminators going after him. Good old Xax. He wasn't the best exterminator, but he was someone who did what he was told.

"Have to say, Miss Sturlach, this show wasn't as exciting as yours. We loved the holo backdrops and history from the alien planet."

A message appeared from genuine Police Corps officers outside the door. With the promise of a return visit, Brell followed the officers into one of their air patrol craft, which whisked her to the safety of Police Corps HQ. She watched the cityscape below her.

Had the episode with Smiler been worth all the danger and stress?

### Chapter 50 – Ointment

Two days later, Wanda, having left an unhappy Spinney at a boarding school for two weeks, flew the _Lulu_ a few kilometres across Elytia to a Police Corps cargo facility. After showing permits and permission slips signed by Brune, she picked up her cargo – a large oblong container. Inputting the circuitous route to the cargo's destination, which Brell had provided, she took off and a short while later was navigating her way into a main space lane. Once on full auto-pilot, she put her feet up and placed a smoke weed in the corner of her mouth.

***

"Cruising speed reached. Wanda is spot on, as usual," Brell said, examining her pop-up screens. She nodded to Scrivvens. "Unbuckle. We're free to move. Lottie, would you mind getting some fruit drinks and pain relief."

"Yes, Brell."

Lottie walked across the communal area into the kitchen. Their residence for the next ten days was a large mobile home safely stowed in its pressurised container, within the _Lulu_ 's cargo hold. Designed to comfortably support a team of officers, it was normally used as temporary accommodation during special events such as the week-long Nine Gods Festival. On a single level, the rectangular-shaped home comprised four bedrooms, a large communal space, a kitchen, adjustable gravity, and storage space. It was ideal for their needs.

Relieved the _Lulu_ was in space, Brell considered the last two days.

After arriving at Police Corps HQ, a doctor examined her and plied her with ointments. An overworked detective listened to her account of her assault by burglars who later ransacked the apartment. Few clarifying questions were asked, which pleased Brell as she kept much of the truth to herself. Before leaving, the detective informed her that Smiler's whereabouts were still unknown.

"Also, colleagues have confirmed that the bodies of two males, one large, one thin, were found in the apartment. Your main burglar, the 'smiley' one, probably set off 'eliminator' vapour bombs. It emits a fine acidic mist which settles on all surfaces, burning its top layer. Dead bodies look like plastic dummies," the detective said matter of factly.

Brell was glad to breathe fresh air and welcomed the sight of Lottie waiting for her outside. She activated the comms cube Lottie gave her and of the several messages waiting to be read, Brune's was marked urgent.

No questions. We cannot take any chances. Make your way to the mobile home now. Be careful about your route. Stay there with the bots. Do not leave. Explain later. Brune.

She did as asked, spending hours on edge waiting for updates whilst reassuring Gorst about her burglary incident. Finally, Brune came through with an assurance from Mourge, who agreed to suspend the arrest and destruction orders for five days.

As much as to relieve stress and the pressure of the last few days, Brell, Lottie and Delta went into overdrive, ordering clothes and personal items, replacing those destroyed in the apartment. Scrivvens watched in bemusement as they agonised over buying clothing from a "See it and Deliver it" store. Glad to be on his own for a while, Scrivvens left the container and collected the items from a secure drop point.

As she fingered the edge of her wound through a headscarf, Brell accepted a drink and tablet from Lottie. "Nice to be on our way," she said, feeling her jaw. Though sore when speaking, it wasn't broken.

After she'd sipped the juice, a zap message arrived. Producer Valvin confirmed the studio would pay her contract in full. He said Brell being held by a burglar would make a great beam drama or docucrime show. Also, Brell knew that a pay-off kept the presenters sweet, especially after discussions regarding the producers' dislike of Ugga winning.

"Lottie, we can buy more clothes when we finish here. The studio are paying out."

Lottie winked at Delta.

Holding her drink up towards Scrivvens, Brell gave a salute. "To all of us," she said, sipping at the juice. "Shall we?"

She returned to scrutinising the coffin secured to the floor a few metres away and noticed Scrivvens in a similar contemplation, as Delta, sitting next to him, placed a hand on his shoulder.

Though called a coffin due to its shape, it was used as a sleeper for deep space flights. An outer shell maintained temperature control, as internal systems monitored oxygen levels and vital signs. Scrivvens cut off the spaceport security seals.

"Police Corps body specimens," Brell said, reading the identification certificate.

"Best I could think of," Scrivvens said.

Surrounded by the others, he pressed a button on the lid's display screen. After a hiss of escaping air, the smell of stale air mixed with anaesthetic wafted out. It reminded Brell of visiting a dental bot as a child, a smell never forgotten.

Mayleth lay asleep, still in her soot-stained challenge clothes. Though her facial muscles appeared relaxed, her dirty face showed strain and exhaustion.

Staring into his screen, Scrivvens made a few adjustments.

"Bringing her out slowly ... It's going to be a shock."

Brell examined Mayleth. For a deskbound, unsmiling woman who lacked interpersonal skills, she had certainly been through it.

"Coming back to consciousness."

A slight flutter appeared in Mayleth's eyelids – her lips and fingers twitching. Half opening her eyes, she squeezed them shut and then opened them again.

"Mayleth. Take your time. You're safe," Scrivvens said in a calming voice.

Brell folded her arms impatiently, wanting to get on with scanning the implants.

Scrivvens put his hand on Mayleth's arm. "You're okay."

Moving her head groggily, she said, "Ayleth?" her voice croaking.

"Ayleth's not here at the moment. Wake up," Scrivvens said.

Opening her eyes fully, she squinted and regarded the faces examining her.

"What happened?"

"You survived. Wake up, drink water, have a wash. We'll tell you everything all in good time," Brell said.

Scrivvens examined the screen. "No major injuries. All life signs good."

Moments later, and with help, Mayleth sat up inside the coffin. Lottie gave her water and wiped her face.

"You've been through an interesting experience. Are you hungry?" Scrivvens said.

"Interesting experience? I'm dead, aren't I?" Mayleth said, her voice becoming stronger.

"Your humour is returning," Brell said, emphasising the irony.

They each held an arm to pull her out of the coffin, managing to slide her onto a chair.

"Chew this," Scrivvens said, holding out a high-energy gum. He sprayed a fine mist into her face.

As she became more alert she was able to stand on her own. She didn't speak, seemingly just coping with feeling her body again.

"A shower and change of clothes are due first," Brell said.

Mayleth nodded. "Have you been in a fight?" she said, studying Brell's bruised face.

"Thanks. I'll explain later," Brell said, adjusting her headscarf. "Lottie, take her to the shower. Stay with her at all times in case she faints. Also, check her over for burns, bullets, and injuries."

"Yes, Brell. This way, madam," Lottie said, her hand gently resting behind Mayleth's back.

"Brell, myself and Delta will prepare a meal. We'll need to debrief Mayleth a little bit first, I think. How are you doing?" Scrivvens said.

"I'll feel better when we find out what's on her ladyship's implants, so Mourge can permanently rescind the prison order and your demotion. Also, to confirm that everything was worthwhile, for both of us I mean. If not, I'll kick her arse out of the airlock."

***

"Lottie, you may start the debrief for Mayleth."

"Certainly," Lottie said. Taking up a position to the side of the viewing screens, she clasped her hands together. Wearing a black jacket and trousers with a cream blouse, Lottie had dressed herself in the style of a Judiciary Corps representative outlining a court case, complete with gold necklace and small spotted kerchief in the jacket pocket. Brell couldn't resist winking at Scrivvens as Lottie got ready to start.

"The aim was to secure your release and make it appear that you'd died. A high-risk strategy. Due to Tinker's failed attempt in the medical examination room, it was clear you had valuable information to impart. As studio security doubled, we were left with taking action during the final challenge. In the afternoon, the inspector, together with Delta, his assistant, checked into a hotel room."

Mayleth nodded towards Delta.

"The hotel is part of a large shopping complex. There was an access panel inside, connecting to a utility bots' rest room. From there, they slipped out into the shopping centre, able to avoid the Tinker's people watching their room."

Lottie paused before bringing up the images of Mayleth's final moments in Bangkok World, walking up the staircase and entering the bedroom.

"Thanks to Brell's ability to obtain a copy of the studio schematics, FilmScan the rear studio areas and be involved in the building layouts, we determined that Bangkok would be the best place for the switch. Our backup plan involved the inspector activating a drone to destroy the power grid, causing a blackout in the hope of getting the show postponed. The Tinker's man, Smiler, had a similar plan using blackmailed production staff. However, they were unaware the inspector overrode their programme."

"Did I follow a Heelly?" Mayleth said.

"Correct. We needed something small you would recognise but not cause the audience to suspect anything. Through Lottie's research, a Heelly was found to be the perfect emblem. We needed to lead you to our chosen location. In fact, Lottie was near you throughout the challenge, but you were understandably running for your life. She practically hit you before you took notice," Brell said.

"The scarf and the backside."

"That was me," Lottie said. "The bearded male with the bandana. I'm able to change my body display. As a waitress in Bangkok, I displayed a scarf over my shoulders."

"Where did you go at the end?" Mayleth said.

"I walked back past you by cloning the man in front of me. Two men going down the stairs? I got outside the building just in time."

"Quick thinking, Lottie. Good job," Brell said.

Lottie continued. "Thank you, Brell. Anyway, the inspector, dressed as an aftershow clown performer, drove a small delivery vehicle into the service corridor and parked next to an access door. Delta travelled separately. The inspector entered the service corridors and went up some steps into an unattended catwalk. Cutting through the arena wall into the rear of the storage box, he set up live screens, including a feed of Delta swooning in the corridor. Nicely done, by the way, Delta. Everyone came to help you."

Lottie gave Delta a thumbs-up.

"Spraying you unconscious as you ducked inside, the inspector pulled you backwards through the storage box and a hole in the wall. A large bag of animal remains were thrown back inside. If you see here" – Lottie played Mayleth's body cam – "it goes fuzzy. That's when a jammer was activated."

"What if the big exterminator hadn't followed me?"

"If the exterminators were timid, the inspector would have set off an incendiary bomb and made a very quick exit. We hoped security would blame the Tinker."

"Actually," Brell said, "Smiler had a similar strategy to ours. Exterminator Xax burned the Tinker's people, unknowingly, a few minutes before we got to you. You could have been with them instead of us."

"You're the good guys, right?" Mayleth said.

"Yes," Scrivvens said. "We don't know what the Tinker would have done with you. Anyway, let's move on."

Lottie continued playing the images, showing Xax spraying the box with flames, the animal remains a perfect substitute for a body.

"Can't remember any of that," Mayleth said.

"The old switcheroo. Just like on those old beam magic shows," Brell said.

"I put you in a body bag and into an empty beer barrel. Delta later helped me transfer you through a service door back here and into the coffin. That was two days ago. We're inside Brell's cargo freighter on a journey to Symphony, the pleasure moon," Scrivvens said.

"Well, I'm out. What do you want?" Mayleth looked at Brell. "Implants, I presume."

"Yes, whenever you're ready," Brell said.

"What happens later? Am I too much of a risk to keep alive?"

"No. New identity, skin colour change, that sort of thing – tracker implants, the full works. Same as used in our witness protection programmes," Scrivvens said.

"Do I have time to think about it?" Mayleth said.

"No," Brell said.

Both women considered each other.

"Okay, okay, I'm free of the Tinker until he finds out where I am."

"You haven't seen our plans for you yet."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Basically, lie on your front, sleep, whatever. It will take a while to do a full copy scan," Scrivvens said.

Delta reassured Mayleth who lay on her front with her shoulders and back exposed, whilst Scrivvens started the procedures. Attaching a thin scanner plate onto her skin, he interacted with a small array of screens.

Sitting in the kitchen, Brell drank a milk concoction and puffed on a weed smoke, whilst Lottie, in silence, rubbed ointment into her head wound.

### Chapter 51 – My head is fuzzy

"Brell, wake up. They've finished."

"They what?" Brell said, licking the inside of her mouth. Shuffling on the bed, she opened her eyes.

"Inspector Scrivvens has decrypted all the implant data," Lottie said.

"Hold on." She stood up slowly, went to the bathroom, and returned with her face and hair wet.

"Are we good?" she said to Scrivvens and Delta, who were still hunched over the screens.

"Yes," Scrivvens said, smiling with tired relief.

"I'll go get her."

A short while later, Mayleth walked tiredly into the communal area. Lottie gave her a warm drink.

"We've decrypted the data. Can you remember the times when you met the Tinker?" Scrivvens said.

Mayleth sipped her drink. "My head is fuzzy."

"My head is fuzzy too. We've put our lives on the line to get you out for this information. You, me, Scrivvens here, and others will be going to prison if what we've done gets out. You see this?" Brell bent her head whilst pulling off her headscarf. "And this?" She pulled her left foot out of its sandal, lifted it off the floor, and pointed at the place where her toe used to be. "We put ourselves in danger for you because you wouldn't share information back in your prison cell. So buckle up and start remembering," Brell said, raising her voice.

"The Tinker will come after me. Payback. He has spies everywhere."

"Should have let her burn," Brell said, speaking towards Scrivvens as she walked into the kitchen.

"I'm on my own. I've just been through complete turmoil, I ache, I'm tired and, yes, afraid. I'm on a transporter travelling to who knows where with promises I have no idea will be delivered. You could just throw me out of the airlock."

Taking a couple of breaths, Scrivvens went over to her. With her shoulders slumped and her eyes reddening, she appeared to wish she had gone up in Xax's flames.

"It's okay," he said, sitting next to her. "We've sorted out a new life for you, a change of identity. The Tinker won't find you."

Mayleth put her cup down. "I'm not as young as I used to be. I've lost my brother, been to prison, all those things. Who can I trust?"

"Here, I can show you where you're going to work," Scrivvens said, waving towards Delta. She displayed a screen containing images of bot men and women inside a large storeroom at the rear of a shop.

"Bot's A Go Go is a facility for renting bots, for personal comfort or whatever. They need someone to look after their expensive stock, clean them up, sort them out, talk to them and test them before being rented again," Scrivvens said.

Mayleth sat up straighter, examining the images as Brell returned.

"We're all in this together, Mayleth. The secret must never get out. Your information may help us bring down the Tinker. You don't need reminding about what he did to your brother," Brell said.

Mayleth examined the Bot's A Go Go images again before saying, "I'm just a little shocked by everything. I still think my brother is alive, but I'm fooling myself."

"Okay, tell us what you remember. There are comfortable surroundings here, nothing's going to happen to you," Scrivvens said, glancing at Brell, who remained quiet.

"I visited the Tinker at his restaurant, inside a meeting room at the back. Twice – once on my own, and the second time was before the _Convict Challenge_ that Miss Sturlach was in. With my brother in debt, we had no choice but to allow the Tinker's involvement in the show's outcome. Anything to keep my brother alive. It's been too long to apologise." She glanced at Brell.

Arms crossed, Brell tilted her head. About to say something, she stopped when she saw Scrivvens widening his eyes at her. "Families, eh?" she said, flatly.

Lottie put a supporting arm behind Brell's back.

"Then the races. Three occasions. I didn't go often. Many of his guests were louts and criminals. However, it was good for networking. Timewise, not sure. Once quite a while ago, when my brother was winning, not sure about the other one, but one was definitely near the start of _Convict Challenge_. My brother upset me that evening. My stupid brother and his gambling."

"Good, gives me something to work on," Scrivvens said.

Leaving Scrivvens and Delta alone with their task, Brell checked her multiple cockpit screens. Wanda, utilising the co-pilot for rest breaks, travelled exactly as per her given route. The engines worked efficiently, and the space lanes weren't overly busy. Importantly, for her own benefit she scrutinised other craft on their flight path, to see if any drew too close to the _Lulu_.

Smiler, as far as she knew, was still at large and capable of chasing them down.

***

A while later, she wandered through the communal room, feeling fidgety, nervous, and tense. She occasionally stood behind Delta and Scrivvens, careful not to disturb them, admiring the amount of data they sifted through.

Lottie brought out drinks wearing an apron she'd found in a kitchen cupboard. Enjoying her new role as mother, she appeared as the plain-faced women in her late thirties – like her creator – all of the time now.

"Brell," Lottie said, handing over another drink, "a brew for your stress."

"Stress?"

"Yes, stress. You haven't stopped walking, smoking, tapping, burping, or scratching."

"Thanks, Lottie. I can get Scrivvens to tune you down, you know."

Ignoring her, Lottie popped into Mayleth's bedroom. Tilting her head, Brell saw Mayleth sitting on the end of the bed, staring at the floor. It was similar to when she'd seen her in the prison cell.

"Frag it," she said under her breath, and walked over to Mayleth's room. "Knock, knock."

Noticing Scrivvens glancing away from his screens towards her, Brell nodded back, mouthing, "It's okay."

Entering the room, she motioned for Lottie to sit next to Mayleth.

"Feeling as nervous as me?"

Mayleth put her head in her hands, wiped her eyes, and looked up. "Yes."

Lottie held Mayleth's hand, which she gratefully received.

"Look, I'm not a great one for small talk, and we're never going to be best friends, but we have to remain strong. You fought your way through the challenges. You may have won it on your own."

"Thanks, I thought I was dead. I dreamed of my brother, parents, personal bots, and Ugga attacking me."

"I never found out any more about your brother. If the Tinker did get to him, he's not very forgiving. He's gone. You know that really. It's not easy to admit things to yourself."

"I know." She leant in to Lottie's shoulder.

Brell stood up. "I'll check on how they're getting on."

"Miss Sturlach ... Brell. Thank you. I'm sorry about what we put you through in your challenge. It was under difficult circumstances."

"I know. We've both come a long way since then. Put it behind us. Get on with the future."

Ambling over to Scrivvens, she stood behind him. "Don't worry, it's all good."

He touched her arm and went back to his screens. Delta scrolled continually through pages of text too fast for Brell to read.

With nothing to do, she lay on her bed and fell asleep.

### Chapter 52 – A good deal

As Mayleth slept, Scrivvens activated an audio umbrella as he waited for Brune's connection to link up. He drank another stimulant as Delta busied herself with an audio screen. Brell called in Lottie from the kitchen.

"Hello, are we connected?" Brune said, his face appearing after his voice.

"Loud and clear, sir," Scrivvens said.

"What have you found?"

"Sir, we scanned, copied, and decrypted Mayleth's implant data. She gave us an estimation of dates. We made some simple searches but wanted to ensure we captured everything. All background conversations were enhanced and we found this little nugget."

"Let's hear it first and talk afterwards."

"The male voices are Ayleth – her brother – the Tinker and two unknowns. You'll hear Mayleth briefly. The male voices were originally very faint." Scrivvens nudged Delta, who pressed the play button.

" _And here are the twins."_ The voice got louder. _"All ready for the show?"_ the Tinker said.

A racetrack announcer could be heard in the background calling out betting odds.

" _Yes everything is ready,"_ a male voice, Ayleth, said.

" _Good, good" –_ the voice became more hushed – _"all okay with our arrangements?"_

" _Yes. Assured betting opportunities. Will be putting bets on myself."_

Laughter. _"With your credits or my credits?"_

" _Everything will be okay, Mr Tinker,"_ Mayleth said.

" _Please enjoy the facilities here. It's my birthday and I'm sharing it with many of my associates,"_ the Tinker said.

There was the sound of rustling and footsteps walking away.

" _I'm just going to put a bet on a certain winner. Why don't you get another drink?"_

" _Losing more credits, brother?"_

" _You won't say that when I win."_

" _Win? Win? You win once, then lose twice."_ Mayleth's voice sounded strained.

" _Aah, sister."_ He stopped speaking as a background announcement was made. _"The race is starting. See you in a minute."_

No more conversation, just a hubbub of voices, clinking glasses, bot waiters offering drinks and nibbles.

The background noises faded. Then there were footsteps on gravel – Mayleth walking.

Silence, except for the voice of the race announcer.

Mayleth coughed a couple of times.

" _What do you think?"_ a thickly accented male voice said.

" _About the Tinker, chief?"_ a deep male voice said. _"He may think he's the main man on some planets perhaps, but not Non-Assoc. He got burned last time he tried to influence our world."_

" _Exactly. The ore he bragged about?"_

Long pause.

" _I've been scratching my head since he mentioned it, trying to remember something. One of my staff told me about meeting a cargo pilot once. I didn't think anything unusual about the story at the time. Let me think."_

There were sounds of Mayleth sniffing, a waiter bot rolling by, and distance cheers of the race audience.

" _It was in a bar in Dredge near the space docks. The pilot had just returned from delivering a large deposit of a specially packaged rare ore for engines,"_ he said. _"Falsified port documents, normal stuff. This pilot was drunk and anticipating a long paid vacation on a pleasure moon. He was relieved at making the delivery, as if his life depended on it."_

" _Where was the delivery?"_

" _A secure silo near Winner? ... Whynow? ... something like that, in the Kaznac Farmlands, chief."_

" _Overlord Joppa's patch. Too interested in crops, cow shit and farm girls to notice probably."_

" _Yes, chief. It would probably be a secure underground facility to store Association property, so it's not declared for tax."_

" _We keep quiet."_ The male, with an accent paused. _"We'll confirm it ourselves first. Speak again to Tinker. I'm sure he'll be amenable to a deal."_

" _A good deal, chief."_

" _A very good deal."_

They both laughed.

Delta turned off the recording.

"Normal conversation from now on, sir," Scrivvens said.

"Who are the two men?" Brune said.

"We believe it was Overlord Portain and his right hand man. They were from Kaznac, in charge of the Industrial and Business region," Scrivvens said.

"Commander, both men died on board their space cruiser the day after meeting the Tinker at the races. Though speculation was rife, there was a collision in space causing a pressure drop in their cabins. Both men never regained consciousness. No prosecutions were made," Lottie said.

"So it's possible they didn't tell anyone or make any enquiries?" Brune said.

"Yes, They're probably men who like to check information themselves rather than leaving it to an untrustworthy flunky. Particularly on Non-Assoc," Scrivvens said.

"Timewise, it makes sense. Carac arranged for the Locardum to be moved whilst in prison, so it was at a secret location before the start of _Convict Challenge_. It gave him a hold over the Tinker. The Tinker blabs about it – usual male thing, seeing how high you can piss up a wall. Unknown to him, one of his guests has another piece of the puzzle, with the location. But they died before passing the information on," Brell said.

"Sir, I would add that if the Locardum has already been found, then markets would be buzzing or heavy weapons unleashed," Scrivvens said.

"I've just remembered something Carac muttered when he woke up during _Convict Challenge._ He said "like home". Perhaps the Farmlands area where he hid it is similar to the Montil homestead," Brell said.

Brune sat back, relief etched on his face. "Well, if this recording and information is correct, this whole stunt was justified. It gives us very strong leads to investigate. The remainder of the audio involving the Tinker will be valuable for our crime gang specialists. Well done to all of you. All of us." He ran a hand across his face.

"Have to stop the link soon, sir," Scrivvens said.

"Yes, well we don't need reminding to keep this whole thing secret, bots included. For now I will update Deputy Mourge. I think he'll terminate the demotion, prison and destruction orders now. Maybe a job best left for Space Corps to follow up. Too big for us. Thanks, everyone." With that, Brune waved goodbye.

Scrivvens ended the conversation by checking the comms link hadn't been compromised.

"Scrivvens, I think you and Delta need a well-earned rest. It's only a few hours until we land. Mourge should respond positively, so we can relax and talk later. It shows that for all of Carac's influence, he couldn't stop a drunk cargo pilot from opening his mouth."

"The mention of engines bodes well for it being Locardum," Scrivvens chipped in.

"Definitely a job for Space Corps. On a Non-Association planet, though, frig that," Brell said.

### Chapter 53 – Quandary

Smiler watched Captain Gorst Ritsma and his colleagues laying memorial wreaths by the wharf buildings where their colleagues had died in the Tinker's inferno. Squeezed in amongst a busy crowd, Smiler's eyes were trained solely on the captain, sizing him up.

His quandary was when to kill him.

During his journey to Dorab, he realised that a life of evading capture from the Tinker would become tedious, let alone life-threatening. However, with the proceeds from the Locardum, he would be set up for the rest of his life. There was only one problem, he had no idea where it was. It needed an end game, a bit of flare.

The inspector, in cahoots with Brell, had been up to something during the final challenge. Once her boyfriend was dead, she would head straight to the planet. Then he would extract the information, and this time she wouldn't escape. He dreamed of her tied up and vulnerable, with her feisty nature making it more exciting.

As for any assistance, this time he would work on his own. Bim, nervous in the presence of any female, had let him down and the youth had been expendable from the first day he walked into the hotel room on Elytia.

He examined the captain again. A fit man, experienced, intelligent, and often accompanied by other officers. But there was always a weak point. It just needed uncovering.

Once the memorial service ended, Smiler made his way back to his lodgings in an old and cheap part of town. Security officials took no notice of him, due in part to the false identities he carried.

After wrecking Brell's apartment, Smiler went to ground. Stumbling upon a young man named Clupton Gramitt, he persuaded him to change his identity and travel for two days on board a leviathan space bus. Believing Smiler was on the run from his wife, the promise of credits and first class travel proved too alluring to young Clupton. Wearing a hat, a face distortion device, and carrying an ID block, it was sufficient to fool onboard scanners for a while until the Tinker's men caught up with him.

The Tinker's smug face would have been a picture on realising the deception. His men would have been spending another day and a half travelling in the opposite direction to Smiler's transporter to Dorab.

Arriving at his lodgings, he grabbed food from an auto chef at reception to eat in the room whilst considering the captain's murder.

***

Lying on a rooftop, Smiler propped his rifle on a low wall separating each building and checked the sights. The older parts of town mainly consisted of flat-roofed buildings with faded white brickwork covered in antennas. He could see zigzagging streets sloping towards the sea, which was a perfect blue colour. Various types of boats bobbed on its surface as flying craft flitted about full of partying tourists.

With the correct settings for distance, wind, weather, and gravity, his rifle could shoot a laser-tipped bullet ten kilometres. After loading the single round, he took aim by firing at the mast of a fishing boat out at sea. It zinged through the middle of the upright, narrowly missing the crew pulling on a net.

"Good purchase," he said, nodding to himself, tapping the stock.

Covering the weapon, he exited the rooftop.

***

Gorst ended his zap conversation to Brell in the usual way.

See you soon.

Love dove.

Reading the latest shift updates, he bit into a sandwich and drank water as his comms cube blipped.

" _Captain?"_

"Go ahead."

" _We need your attendance in the conference room."_

"Two minutes."

On entering the room, he received loud shouts of "Surprise" followed with cheers and clapping.

"Captain. In recognition of your work during challenging times, we've had a whip-round and bought you a little something for your upcoming conception ceremony."

A suddenly shy Gorst made a speech remembering their lost colleagues and the value of teamwork. Finally, he thanked everyone for their gifts, which included a colourful holiday shirt and massage oil.

"You should have seen what the admin girls wanted to get you," an officer said.

Posing for beam images, Gorst was touched by their gifts, as it had been a difficult time at work, let alone with Brell's injuries and drinking episode.

***

Shuffling his hips, Smiler adjusted the screen, checked the settings, activated the auto stabiliser, and waited for Gorst to appear. Those idiots at Police Corps believed that publishing details of the captain's public meetings reassured locals.

Zooming out a fraction, he examined the surroundings again. From his viewpoint, he could focus on the exit doors of a public library building five kilometres away. Built on raised ground, the doors, part of the walkway and nearby streets were in line of sight. He gambled that the captain would use this exit, as his Corps vehicle was parked within a narrow side street.

In a busy part of town, the road teemed with commuters. The sun, in the throes of setting, gave buildings a light brown glow. Street sounds and smells enveloped Smiler's chosen rooftop, but at least he was undisturbed.

Zooming in and out, he allowed the cross hairs to focus on the walkway where a person would stand when exiting the doors. Smiler swore to himself. It was busier than he thought, and hitting anyone else would complicate matters. Checking his chronometer, he saw that the meeting was due to finish soon. He hunkered down ready.

The boy would have tapped into the building's systems to at least see when the captain was making his way out. Having to fire this type of rifle himself, he needed to concentrate on everyone leaving. People idled by the entrance, talking, enjoying the fresh sea air. A male and female exited, hesitated as they glanced back inside the building. The male held his arm over the doorframe to keep the door open for the person behind him.

Captain Gorst appeared. Wearing his hat and uniform, his body shape was unmistakable. Smiler brought the cross hairs up a fraction to settle on the peak of the captain's hat. He coughed, slipped a finger over the fire button, and fired. Bucking, the rifle sent its bullet across town on its fatal journey.

Gorst tilted his head down as he shook the woman's hand. Smiler saw the bullet trail miss his head by millimetres, striking the doorframe.

"Frack it! Frack it, Frack it!" Smiler said, fumbling another bullet into the chamber. One of the shortfalls of the superior weapon was the single-loading option.

The captain appeared bemused, uncertain about what, if anything, had happened. Street noise must have masked the sound of the bullet's impact.

Moving the cross hairs, Smiler tried to keep up with the captain as he walked along the walkway. An unfocussed roof edge appeared in the sight, blurring the captain's head. Hurriedly shifting position, Smiler readied himself, aware he must take a shot within the next few seconds as the captain entered his vehicle.

Centring the sights on the driver's door, he waited for the captain to appear.

"Oh, for frag's sake."

An auto rubbish lorry trundled along, stopping by the captain's vehicle, in front of Smiler's sights. He knew the captain had driven off before the bin lorry lumbered away.

Punching his fist onto the roof surface, Smiler realised he needed to wait for another opportunity. Out of frustration, he wondered if it would be easier to confront the captain with a pistol. Escaping would be problematic, though, and he didn't intend being a martyr.

Later, Smiler's mood shifted significantly. Ferreting through gossip streams on a Police Corps open forum, he searched for Gorst. A young officer had taken an image of herself with the captain holding up a colourful shirt. The caption underneath read:

A little present for the captain's hard work over the last few weeks. Also, best wishes for his imminent conception ceremony on Symphony with his partner. xx.

Obviously, Brell would be on Symphony, ripe for interrogation.

"Happy days." He rubbed his hands together at the thought of not having to use the rifle again.

After checking timetables, safe routes, and security precautions, he put his cubes to one side. Perhaps it was time for some pleasurable experiences from the establishment across the street. Considering the stress of recent days, he deserved it.

### Chapter 54 – Bad hair day

After landing on Symphony, stevedore bots offloaded the _Lulu_ 's cargo. Loaders carried the container and rumbled towards one of Brune's administrative Police Corps warehouses. Throughout the transfer, Scrivvens and Brell were on edge, becoming visibly relieved on hearing a final positioning "clonk".

Wanda, meanwhile, parked and secured the _Lulu_ in a long-term parking lot as per Lottie's post-flight instructions. Scheduled to haul another freighter across the galaxy the next day, she was booked into a pilot's bed and breakfast establishment. As far as Brell could ascertain beforehand, Wanda believed the delivery of a bland container was just another paid job. Brell also knew Wanda could be relied on to keep quiet. Anyway, her mind was on her new boyfriend, Wark, the bearded pilot in the Grease Pit bar, whom she'd punched weeks ago. That's Wanda.

Scrivvens had calculated they would need to spend seven days preparing Mayleth for her new life. For security reasons, they decided to stay inside the whole time, and as a precaution, Brell set up screens with auto detection to monitor the outside areas.

With Gorst not arriving for over a week anyway, she looked forward to recovering from her injuries, catching up on sleep and generally relaxing. They were, in truth, all strung out after the last few weeks of work.

Later that evening, they gathered in the communal area to discuss Mayleth's new identity. Scrivvens provided her new name, address, and identity documents, as Delta worked the screens.

Lottie, now officially "mobile-home mum", was given the task of overseeing Mayleth's treatment schedule and tending her wellbeing. The previous night Mayleth had swallowed a concoction of tablets and received a discrete implant. Apart from losing all body hair for a curlier hairstyle to grow through, her skin would change colour, from an Elytian yellow, to dark olive. The expensive skin changer implant, which caused Brune to break out in a sweat, would last for the rest of her natural life.

Mayleth, wearing a spare pair of Lottie's pyjamas, scratched her head through one of Brell's headscarves and said, "Henna Wakooski?"

"Yes, nice name, suits you," Brell said.

Restricted from travelling off-planet, and living in a room above the robot shop, would, for a previous Elytian Platinum District type, be slumming it. However, for someone recently in prison, it was a palace.

Pausing for a break, Mayleth went back to her room as Brell continued examining Mayleth's new look on the displays. Sure, her eye and skin colour would change, along with her hair, but it still looked like her, with pinched features, nose, ears, and jawline.

"Not sure about it. A sharp-eyed reporter, holidaying on the moon, may bump into her. The way she walks, stares down her nose at everything – it may attract unwarranted attention."

"I see what you mean," Scrivvens said, rubbing his chin. "I left this part of the makeover until now, when we actually got her out of the challenge. We couldn't waste time otherwise."

"Lottie and Delta, you change your appearance and clothes. How can we make her less pinched, squeezed, serious, or posh? More mean or something?" Brell said.

Lottie sat down and stared at the images. Brell knew she would be interrogating her creator's memories as well as researching the subject.

"Tattoos, scars, a physical change?" Lottie said. "She doesn't have any tattoos" – she paused – "anywhere on her body."

"Physical change. Broken nose? I could manage that. Cutting a finger off is a bit too much. But tattoos and scars, definitely. Delta?" Brell said.

"An uptight, clenched, frustrated woman. She needs to be a relaxed, free-spirited, dropout type," Delta said.

"Tattoos of clouds, ancient symbols, flowers, peace slogans, suns perhaps?" Lottie said.

"I still think a broken nose. How about a scar across the back of her hand from an out of control peace demonstration or being lashed with a laser whip in prison. She could use her real prison experiences to explain it," Brell said.

Mayleth walked back into the room. "What did I miss?"

"Nothing, I'm going to give you a scar and Scrivvens will do a few procedures on you," Brell said.

Mayleth, uncertain, sat still.

"It's okay. We need to hide your identity more – tattoos, that sort of thing. I've got a programme which will help us do it painlessly," Scrivvens said, glancing over at Brell, grinning as he shook his head.

Whether reluctantly or not, Mayleth lay patiently as Scrivvens applied the tattoos using an adapted utility bot. Delta monitored the work, checked the systems and reassured Mayleth.

"Do you know," Mayleth said, "during boring studio meetings, I often hankered for a more simplistic laid-back lifestyle. Tattoos represented freedom or fierceness, so would never form part of my 'old' life."

Brell created a wound using a laser pistol tuned to a very low frequency. Surrounded by everyone to ensure she didn't cause too much injury, Mayleth didn't feel anything due to Lottie's liberal application of pain blocker.

***

"You okay there, Lottie?" Brell said. She sat on her bed rubbing the small stump of her middle toe. "You know, it's odd, but it feels as if the toe is still there."

"Yes, Brell." Lottie stood still.

"How is our beauty queen?"

"Well, she just told me that she's pleased I'm looking after her. She held my hand, stroked my arm, and said she would like to get to know me better." Lottie stared around the room.

"She's been hitting on you, Lottie. You have an admirer. Perhaps she likes your dextrous hands," Brell said, waving her hands in the air.

"What should I do?"

"Research your creator's memories. There'll be plenty of encounters with people trying to approach her. Throughout her whole life probably." She picked up a small bottle and tipped oil onto her finger. "Look, I was banged up for years. You mistrust everyone. When someone shows you compassion, you think it's a trick, but when it's genuine, it takes times to process. Don't worry, Lottie. Though Mayleth was known for being close to her assistant bots, it's nothing to worry about, you're not in any danger. She's lonely. Continue what you're doing. She'll be out of here soon."

"Thank you, Brell. I understand Mayleth's position now." She smiled and left the room.

Brell reached over for some more oil, grinning.

***

During much of the week, Brell enjoyed sitting on the settee, reading, exercising, or watching comedy shows. Often, she sat back, revelling in feeling free and safe, watching the interactions of the others. The relationship between Lottie and Delta was interesting, sometimes pinching each other's backsides or sharing a look. They often message zapped each other when in the same room. What was that all about?

Delta, Brell considered, was not a bot to underestimate. With all her cavorting and risqué language, the way she worked with Scrivvens was almost telepathic. She retained more knowledge than she let on. Seeing her retiring for the night into the bedroom with Scrivvens made her wonder about their relationship. The straight-laced inspector with a freewheeling ex-pleasure bot. Delta made him happy – what else mattered?

It made her think of her long-distance relationship with Gorst. It suited both of them, though that would have to change when their son was born. She enjoyed a pilot's lifestyle, and the thought of becoming a stay-at-home mum and the wife of a busy captain filled her with uncertainty. Of course, the joy of having a child should negate any negative feelings, shouldn't it?

One afternoon, Lottie made the mistake of saying she'd studied a Police Corps manual on stress relief and could now carry out massages if anyone needed one.

"With a happy ending?" Delta said.

To laughter from Brell and Scrivvens, Lottie stood displaying her unamused schoolteacher face.

"I'll go first," Brell said. "My neck and shoulders are stiff."

Putting on gloves to soften her fingers, Lottie stood behind Brell and proceeded to massage her neck using confident movements.

"Very nice, Lottie," Brell said, smiling at Scrivvens.

Mayleth walked into the communal room on her way to the kitchen. "Lottie, that looks nice, can I book you up?"

Lottie's fingers paused for a moment as Mayleth spoke.

"Certainly, madam," she said.

After Mayleth disappeared into the kitchen, Brell couldn't resist saying, "Lottie, your girlfriend needs a bit of personal service."

They all laughed, as Lottie dug her thumbs into Brell's neck.

***

Matters became tense when Scrivvens injected Mayleth with two Police Corps implants. One was a location transmitter set to Corps frequencies, the other a quick release poison, in case she went rogue or thought of revealing her identity.

"The Witness Protection Unit will be monitoring your every move, okay?" Scrivvens said, pressing a confirm button. "There, it's all set up now. Doesn't stop you doing anything, but we obviously need some control. You can't leave the planet either."

"In exchange for your life," Brell said, interrupting.

"I understand," Mayleth said, rubbing her arms.

***

The final day began when Lottie woke up Brell to tell her that their guest was outside. Standing by the front door with Scrivvens as he released the security mechanism, Brell relished the rush of fresh air.

Brune, wearing his working uniform, walked up into the mobile home carrying some bulging bags.

"Commander," Lottie said, "would you like me to take these?" She took the bags off him, walking off towards Mayleth's bedroom.

"Yes, please, Lottie, whilst I catch up with these two. Delta, could you help Lottie please."

"Certainly commander," Delta said, sauntering behind Lottie.

Looking around the accommodation, Brune's eyes settled on Brell's headscarf.

"Healing?"

She exposed her scalp.

He shook his head. "We should have anticipated it."

"No one is to blame, Brune. Smiler is a difficult man to pin down."

"Remember, if it all gets too much, we can get you people to talk to." He touched her shoulder.

"Thanks, Brune. The others have been very supportive."

He shook Scrivvens' hand, thanking him for all his work and joking about how he looked good as a clown.

Mayleth entered the room.

"Miss Lkardis."

"Commander," Mayleth said.

Brune looked her over, from the headscarf down to her sandals. He nodded.

She was wearing a multicoloured robe, tied at the middle with gold braid. Her skin had changed colour. With her full eyebrows, ColourChange lipstick and gold ear jewellery, it was convincing. The tattoos and hand scar deflected anyone staring at her eyes for too long.

An ancient sun symbol tattoo ran from the middle of her throat down onto her chest. A colourful flower "grew" from each side, curling up under her jawline to a point behind her ears. Additionally, a series of small tattoos depicting the phases of a moon and sun were positioned on each forearm. At Mayleth's request, a small Heelly was placed below her navel as a symbol of her freedom. Scrivvens used vintage colours, making the tattoos appear much older.

Small curly shoots of hair were appearing on her head. In time, the brown, red and black strands would appear, suitable for twisting into braids if she so chose.

"Done a good job here, everyone," Brune said. "Scrivvens, have you got all you need?"

"Yes, sir."

"Brell, everything okay with your freighter and this container?"

"Yes. My pilot suspects nothing and is trustworthy. The container arrived here without a hitch. No signs of Smiler or the Tinker's men."

"Henna Wakooski, are you ready to leave?"

"Yes."

"Good. Now, may I have a word with you, in private, please?" Brune said, ushering her into a bedroom.

After coming back out, Brune lowered his voice. "I spoke to her ... strict, you know. We aren't going to have any funny business from her."

"Yes, sir," Scrivvens said.

"What did you say, Brune?" Brell gave him one of her looks, knowing he had to reply.

"I told her I have a button on my Corps screens which I can press at any time to send in a large Xax lookalike with a flame gun if I believe she's transgressing our agreement."

"Subtle," Brell said.

"Scrivvens, can you instruct an unmarked helper bot to take her to the new place of employment? Then destroy it."

"Yes, sir." Scrivvens got busy with his screens. A while later, clanking footsteps sounded from outside.

"You look good," Brell said to Mayleth, who stood one last time in the living room.

"Thank you. I realise I'm fortunate to have been kept alive. Thank you, to all of you," she said, humbly.

"Your new life awaits. The bot will take you there," Brell said.

Mayleth shook hands with everyone, giving Lottie a close hug before following the bot outside.

Once all traces of Mayleth's visit on board had been destroyed, they tidied up.

As Scrivvens busied himself packing equipment with Delta, Brune pulled Brell to one side.

"Though happy about our job here and the information, I found out from an admin source that Deputy Mourge kept your prison recall file and the demotion notices for me and Scrivvens. He has no intention of using them just yet, but I thought you should know." Brune looked directly at Brell.

"Fragger. I suppose finding the location of the Locardum will help his career prospects?"

"Definitely, though he doesn't know how we did this. I told him Mayleth went up in flames and we legally downloaded her information remotely beforehand, which took a long time to decrypt. This is our secret," he said, motioning around the room.

"Brune, you old fibber."

"Also, Mayleth's name was changed twice for the witness protection programme, so there are no traces of her original name on their indices."

"Your Bermian forefathers would be up in arms with all your prevarication."

"Well, I learnt it from you, so it's your fault. Anyway, I'm looking forward to going back to my office job."

"You did good, Brune."

"As did we all."

After hugs and goodbyes, Scrivvens and Delta accompanied Brune down the ramp. Tomorrow they would both be catching a space bus, on separate journeys, to return to their normal day jobs.

"Right, Lottie, let's lock up. Fancy hitting the shops?"

"Oh yes, Brell," Lottie said. "New uniforms, underpants, pyjamas ... everything."

"And I need your specialist knowledge to choose suitable attire for a conception ceremony."

"Wonderful."

### Chapter 55 – Symphony

The pleasure moon Symphony enjoys perfect weather, normal gravity, blue seas and long periods of sunshine. Originally named Crunkle, it was one of many moons orbiting a large but dull planet. For centuries, the indigenous population had farmed fruit and vegetables for their own livelihood. Night skies were filled with pinpricks of distant planets and stars, but the sight of its fellow moons at various phases circulating its main planet were inspiring. Upon joining the Association, visitors arrived, tasted the local produce, and within weeks goods were shipped to restaurants on the other side of the galaxy. A member of a pleasure world conglomerate made a visit and promptly bought huge areas of land.

Today, half the moon continues to grow exotic fruit and vegetables, whilst the other half contains hotels, leisure complexes, and space terminals. Anything relating to relaxation and enjoyment can be found here. As for the indigenous population, they continue to work the farms or eventually gravitate to the service industries. The village elders, after agreeing to relax all laws to fit in with the conglomerates' visions of enjoyment, do nothing. Occasionally visiting their people working in the fields, they live in luxury with their families, having brokered very reasonable land rentals.

During their shopping trip, Brell felt more relaxed, her thoughts of Smiler and the challenge fading. Whilst shopping inside a huge mall, Lottie's elbow was in overdrive, nudging Brell at various sights, specialist shops, people, and bots.

Finally, they journeyed back to the _Lulu_.

"Lottie, I'll see you in a few days back here. Can you inspect the craft and check all systems?"

"Certainly, Brell."

"I hope you won't be too lonely having just left your girlfriend behind. But I suppose you'll be sending bot gossip to Delta? Remember, no talking about recent events."

"I understand. We always use bot encryption."

"Please stay inside _Lulu_ and alert me of any unusual activity. Smiler is still on the loose. Also, the Tinker's people could be mooching about. Perhaps a check on transport hubs and main walkways?"

"No problem, I'll have all screens monitoring."

"If time allows, indulge yourself, watch a show or whatever. You did a great job on the challenge, and as mobile-home mum."

"Thank you. Has Captain Gorst landed?"

"Yes, I'm meeting him at the hotel. You have its name and location. The room number isn't yet known."

"Brell, you deserve some rest and recuperation. Have a nice time with your conception ceremony."

"Is that it? No comments? No jokes about 'enjoying the ride' or 'making a home run'?"

"Brell, would I say things like that?" Lottie gave a coy smile.

***

As soon as Brell exited the _Lulu_ , Lottie opened her newly purchased valise and took out an engineer's jumpsuit and a red bandana, which she tied around her head. Dressed as Engine Room Fanny, she sat in the main pilot's seat and checked the craft's systems, noting the results in the log. All in good working order. Despite Wanda's outward behaviour and appearance, she controlled the craft with tenderness.

Since her upgrade, Lottie had continued her fascination with the world of real people.

When on the arena floor, she had sensed doubt in her ability to get Mayleth's attention with the Heelly. It had been an emotion her creator often felt prior to a speech, during experiments, or before going on a date with a man or woman.

After Scrivvens and Delta picked her up at the studio rendezvous point, her mind suggested feelings of a job well done. However, it soon became tinged with doubt, concern, and guilt regarding Brell. Her relief when learning she was safely inside Police Corps HQ was meaningful.

One feeling, one line of thought at a time was pure. However, simultaneous emotions were difficult to process, as outcomes seemed changeable and difficult to predict. What an exciting, wonderful, kaleidoscopic world.

On finishing a systems check on the auto chef, bathroom and secondary systems, Lottie went outside to scrutinise the _Lulu_ 's hull using her eyes, hands and a scanner. Nothing, no cracks in the hull's outer skin or devices attached. Patting each landing strut in turn, she got back inside, first cleaning her hands and face. Undressing, she changed into a Police Corps-style bra and pants, put on her Agent Lottie suit, and readied herself for the long shift ahead. Her badge, destroyed by Smiler's apartment bomb, could not be replaced. For now, she would make do with her purchased lanyard and a playing card image of the Plundering Pirates character Miss Plumbuck, which she stuck inside the image holder.

Activating every screen, Lottie tapped into local feeds, live systems, craft landing manifests, and hotel complexes. Despite Brell suggesting she could take it easy, Lottie's duty as an employee of Police Corps was to ensure the safety of the public, property, and officers.

That Brell released her from the apartment, entrusted secrets, and involved her in a series of exciting adventures, warranted undivided loyalty and devotion.

She eyed a small corner screen. A zap arrived from Delta.

Hi PT. Tried out your new toy yet? Love you. D.

An image attached to the message showed Delta, head tilted, smiling with a cheesy grin. Scrivvens was in the background, asleep.

Lottie smiled as she replied.

Delta skelter. Watch out for the manual override button. Take care. Love PT.

PT, plastic tits, Delta's nickname for her.

Lottie reached into her valise and brought out the gift.

"A little something for when you are on your own," Delta had said, winking as she left the mobile home.

The package, ordered from the See it and Deliver it store, suggested it was a bot's pleasure ball, an object Delta had introduced to her at the apartment when they had first met. During her first connection, Lottie had felt a pleasurable sensation within her brain stem as she rubbed her thumbs over the ball's tactile surface. With Delta's guidance, she varied the finger pressure and rhythm, culminating in one second of euphoria. Concerned she had developed a fault, Delta reassured her it was part of the experience and, with practice, the sensations would intensify.

Duty first. It would wait until Brell and Captain Gorst were less vulnerable and within a secure public area, rather than asleep in their bedroom.

She looked back to the imaging systems, to a positive identification of Captain Gorst exiting an auto cab. Walking into the hotel foyer, his build, gait, the air of someone used to being in command, and smart clothes were unmistakable. Tapping into the hotel's security, using a nifty programme only available to Police Corps analysts, she located Brell sitting in the foyer.

Brell jumped to her feet when Gorst arrived. Lottie followed their journey up to the room, via elevators, corridors, and travellators.

"Confirm. Room 11921," Lottie said aloud.

With no monitoring allowed inside rooms, Lottie checked the external cameras, which consisted of views along corridors, walkways, and external walls. Nothing specifically pointed towards the hotel room windows, for privacy reasons.

Setting up auto alert functions, she checked her meter, deciding a quick recharge would be useful. Surveillance on this level – a whole hotel complex, streets, and transportation – would require extra energy.

***

What a lovely place for murder, Smiler thought upon seeing the seas of Symphony from space. Gaining a spare berth with a freighter crew for credits up front, he'd spent four days listening to dull conversations regarding the best way to load a cargo hold with an odd number of crates. Whatever. Having successfully evaded the Tinker, it wouldn't take much to find Captain Gorst, who would unwittingly lead him to bluey.

"Actually, if you stacked five crates in the uneven corner you could get another three to its side."

"Didn't think of that."

Smiler returned to his bunk and buried his head in a pillow.

### Chapter 56 – Choices

Brell couldn't remember when she last felt so relaxed. Their table on a long restaurant terrace overlooked a beach, with its perfect temperature, the smell of fresh flowers, a slight cool breeze, and the waves rhythmically washing against the white sand. In addition, Gorst didn't talk about work. He looked handsome in his colourful holiday shirt.

"Tomorrow then?" he said, lazily.

Staring into the distance, she brought herself back into the present.

"Tomorrow," she said, placing a hand over his.

"You just need to provide a few womanly samples, me some blood, and then we complete this questionnaire." He brought up the list of questions. "Have you thought through everything?"

"Male, imbued with a lower chance of addiction, healthy obviously, but what about skin colour?" Brell said.

"That's up to you. My colour or your Celestian blue. A mixture of both or something else. Elytian?"

"Elytian? No way. I've thought a lot about my childhood, and I'd prefer our son to have your skin colour. A son in the mould of his father. With our combined heritage, it's probable the baby would be born with that colour naturally."

"Okay," Gorst said, putting his hands up in submission. "He'll have a lot of you in him. People will know who his mother is."

"Decided."

"Decided," Gorst said. "Let's have another drink." He waved his hand and a waiter appeared. "Same as before, please."

Entering their questionnaire answer onto a screen, Gorst paused over the last question.

"Please confirm whether the outpourings will be within the mate's inner chamber, or directly onto the gel?" Gorst said.

Giggling, Brell said, "It's like a school nurse asking personal questions. Well, you either unload your own gun or we rock the trailer."

"You have a way with words, Brell," Gorst said, becoming flustered. "What do you think?"

"Proper ... you know, take our time. How's that?"

"I agree." Gorst leaned forward to kiss her, grateful to move onto another subject.

***

Thanking the crew for their hospitality, Smiler disembarked in a freighter park well away from the main transport hubs. As they had neared Symphony, the slow connections on board the freighter eventually allowed him to contact a weapon and drug trader.

With dawn breaking, Smiler sat in a cheap, non-traceable, street transporter, taking him to the dealer's co-ordinates. Rows of old buildings ended abruptly, giving way to tall, shiny glass and plas-metal creations. Multicoloured holo signs, music, clean streets ... the list continued. A world of pleasure located within an outer ring of dirt. Smiler hoped the Tinker's tentacles didn't reach too far.

Impressed with the range of illegal items on offer, Smiler sized up the dealer.

"Suppose I asked if you could tell me which hotel room someone was staying in?"

"Cost you."

Smiler was taken into a rear room and the dealer gave him access to a locally coded piece of software. He entered "Gorst Ritsma", and a single entry was displayed. It named the hotel, the allocated room number that they now occupied, and the room's location within the hotel complex. Also, it listed Gorst's prepaid conception ceremony order, together with a scheduled time. Later today, in five hours' time. Perfect, Smiler thought.

Smiler stuffed his purchases into a duffle bag and settled the bill. "I need to hire a youth to do a simple job for me."

"Hatchet's café," the dealer said. "Staff alert the customer if Corps are nearby. Speak to the café owner. No problem. Tell them Ottur sent you."

"Thanks, Ottur."

It didn't take long for Smiler to secure a drink, food and an assistant at the café. Adept at walking into strange places, his confidence, smile, and arrogance served him well.

His assistant, a spotty-faced cousin of the café owner still finding his way in the world of criminal behaviour, sat open-mouthed in Smiler's presence.

"So you understand what I need you to do and when to do it, yes?" Smiler said.

The youth nodded. "Got it. I have a new chronometer – here, look." He thrust the device towards Smiler's face. "A present." The youth looked towards the café owner sitting with his arms crossed, who nodded back to him.

"Very good."

"I'm going to eat and get changed. Be ready in twenty minutes. See if you can find a pair of overalls or old clothes."

### Chapter 57 – The circus is in town

Feeling a mixture of nerves, anticipation, and relief, Brell sat with Gorst in their hotel room waiting for the Conception and Birthing Team to arrive. On a pleasure moon, anything was possible. Conception, marriage, divorce, or partnership ceremonies involved any combination of people, bots, or virtual assistants.

The doorbell announced the team's arrival. A doctor and nurse followed by a bot assistant marched into the room, one behind the other.

"Good morning. Today is a special day for you. We are here to ensure everything goes as planned." The doctor made a slight bow. He was tall, thin, and grey, wearing a doctor's white coat. To his side stood the nurse, rotund and unsmiling.

"Are you both ready for the formalities?" the male said, his voice slow and monotonous.

"Yes," Gorst said.

He smiled at Brell, who mouthed back "formalities?" and raised her eyebrows.

Making an arm movement, the nurse activated a display screen. A presentation with a voiceover in a main Assoc language started.

"After an outpouring has been made onto the conception gel, we take it to our central birthing pool, deep underground in our secure hotel basement."

The bot's chest opened to reveal a cooler compartment within.

"Please watch us place the mixture into its birthing pod, where it is combined with pre-ceremony samples. You have elected for an immediate, not delayed gestation period. Once preliminary checks have concluded, gestation starts, and as we approach nine months, Symphony council will officially certify the baby is ready for its birthing ceremony on a date of your choosing. We look forward to seeing you again for the ceremony, and rest assured, our security is the best the galaxy can offer."

The nurse stood stony-faced during the presentation.

Brell held Gorst's hand.

"All that remains is for the collection of the outpourings. This is from the male, correct?" the doctor said.

"Yes, correct," Gorst said, slightly embarrassed.

Brell knew, from the questionnaire, that the doctor needed to cater for other races where the female of the species created a type of semen, which the male could incubate.

"And to confirm, the outpourings will be deposited within the mother's inner chamber, not straight onto the gel?"

"Correct," Gorst said, shaking his head.

"I take it you wish to copulate here in the bedroom?"

Brell put a hand over her mouth to stop herself from giggling too loudly.

"Yes," Gorst said, sniggering under his hand.

"When you are ready, the nurse will insert the gel."

She marched forward holding a thin syringe tube.

"Please get into position, Miss. I will insert the gel into your pleasure canal," she said, blinking, her voice the same tone as the doctor's.

Lying back, Brell stared at the ceiling. Barely feeling a thing, she saw the nurse return to stand beside the doctor, arms by her side.

"You may now copulate. If you need any help with your performance, the nurse or the bot will be pleased to stay and assist."

The nurse wiped her nose with the back of her hand and stared straight ahead. A smiley face appeared on the bot as it held a hand up and wiggled its fingers.

"You couldn't make this up," Brell said out the corner of her mouth.

"Doctor, we are fine and would like to be left alone," Gorst said, aware Brell was making him laugh.

The nurse remained expressionless, as the assistant bot retracted its arms, its face showing disappointment.

"When you have finished, please call us immediately."

As the team trooped out, Brell said, "The circus is in town."

"The hotel's birthing facilities come highly recommended. It's all about what happens afterwards."

"It certainly is, Captain," Brell said, making a salute before leaning over and kissing Gorst.

Light background music, warmth, a slight wind blowing through the balcony and the scent of flowers made Gorst's embrace all the more passionate. It was a moment she wished never to forget.

### Chapter 58 – Outpouring

As Gorst collapsed on top of her, Brell removed her hands from his back and placed them around his head, which was sweaty with exertion.

"Phew," Brell said. "There's definitely been an outpouring." She grinned.

He rolled onto his side, running a hand along Brell's stomach. "I'll call them in. Ready?"

"Yes." Brell groped around, trying to find a sheet to pull over herself.

Gorst, still naked, walked over to the door, cupping his hands over his genitals. To Brell, he looked like a naughty schoolboy caught doing something in his room by a cleaner.

Opening the door a fraction, he said, "All ready." He then ran back to the bed and got under a sheet.

Brell watched the circus troupe march back in. Think of it like a medical exam, she told herself.

"Remain lying down, miss," the nurse said.

Brell watched as the nurse bent down, her head disappearing between Brell's legs. Not being a great sight to remember, she closed her eyes.

"A good sample," the nurse said, raising an eyebrow at Gorst, before inserting the squishy gel into a dish inside the bot's chest.

"We will now take it to the incubators. Please watch our journey live on your screens," the doctor said. "Thank you for using our services."

Brell sat against the headboard as Gorst checked the bedroom door was shut.

"All done," he said, "they've gone. Want a drink whilst we watch?"

"Yes. Inhab-47 style soft fruity." She motioned for the display screens to appear.

Gorst joined her on the bed to watch the procession make its way down to the secure basement.

"There, in that gel, inside the bot, is our future little junior. I can't believe it, Gorst." She wiped her eyes.

She glanced at Gorst, the big man sitting next to her also wiping his eyes.

"What?" he said, laughing and crying at the same time.

Brell elbowed him, blew her nose, rubbing her hands across her face. "Outpourings," she said, laughing.

Gently, the bot placed the gel into a birth pod set within a low-lit chamber. As it retreated, the bot secured the door.

A message splashed across the screen.

"Congratulations, the procedures have been successful. We wish you all a happy future."

### Chapter 59 – Decision time

Lottie replayed images of the two males entering a rear serviceway of Brell's hotel. She calculated that they weren't acting normally. Their body language was stiff, and they were looking around as if checking surroundings. One male, wearing overalls and a wide-brimmed hat, carried a long duffel bag, the other wore an old shirt and trousers. He carried a small technician's case whilst constantly glancing at a wrist chronometer.

A quick search showed the hotel's corporate logos and uniforms, which neither male wore. Following their movements into a service corridor, the male with the duffel bag pushed the younger male in his back, sending him through a door into the main hotel complex.

Changing camera views, Lottie managed to see enough of the male to utilise an identification programme.

Nonny Whixkram, nineteen years, with previous convictions for stealing property from glide scooters. A relative of a known criminal family – perhaps hotel burglary was a step up. Who was the other male? There were insufficient views of his face for recognition. Too much material to wade through to accurately backtrack their journey to the hotel.

Aware of the time involved in checking the two males, Lottie glanced at her other screens. Nothing of note.

Back to business. Using both hands, she attempted to follow the two men on their separate journeys. The male with the duffle bag found an elevator and tipped his hat at people entering. No one changed behaviour on seeing him.

The young male stood inside the hotel foyer. Lottie recalled passages from her Police Corps manuals, which listed the body language and actions of people prior to committing a crime.

He was fidgeting, staring at his chronometer, asking guests for the time, glaring at his case, rubbing a hand across his brow and then down his trousers. His face looked concerned, a youth out of his depth but having to go through with a task. The reception desk was busy, and security personnel were outside talking with guests.

Lottie gazed at the other screen. The male remained in the elevator as it ascended slowly.

She perceived that something was going to happen. Should she contact hotel security? At that moment a patrol bot spun on its axis at the rear of the foyer and rolled towards the youth.

Which floor was duffle bag male heading to? Brell's?

Processing her thoughts against her objectives, Lottie called the hotel.

"Thank you for your call, we are currently busy, please hold. We value your business." A smiley bot assistant's face appeared in the hotel's communication screen.

Putting a hand on her chest, Lottie said, "I apologise to my creator, but those frackfucking reception bots are useless."

She started contacting Police Corps but stopped midway after watching the youth's actions.

He leaned against a pillar, pulled out two round objects and threw them into a waste bin. Within moments, the foyer cameras became engulfed in a white mist. Alarms sounded, together with raised voices, coughing, and security barking orders.

No need to call anyone now, Lottie considered. A view from the outside arrival platforms showed a growing plume of white vapour-like mist billowing from the front entrance.

Lottie's circuits went into overdrive.

Duffel bag male exited onto floor 11900, stopping outside room 11922. His hand shoved a device by the door lock mechanism. It appeared not to be working, and the male looked up and down the corridor, lifting his head.

A recognition panel popped up.

Ninety percent certainty.

It was Smiler.

He entered the room on the second attempt.

"Frig frag," Lottie said aloud.

There was no reply on Brell's cube or to the room. From the security at the hotel, just an automated answer. Police Corps, already attending, weren't interested in other matters just yet.

Delta, urgent. Smiler has entered the room next to Brell and the captain. Uncontactable. Concerned for their safety. Believed decoy activity in hotel foyer. Can Scrivvens contact anyone? Lottie.

Though they would still be travelling, Lottie hoped Scrivvens might be able to access direct comms to the Corps. She knew Delta would pick up the message.

After sending the same message to Brune, she put on her sensible shoes. Locking the _Lulu_ , she ran over to a skiff cab she'd seen land nearby recently. Due to the freighter parking lot's location being away from transport links, many pilots, including Brell, used a skiff cab service.

"Agent Lottie, Police Corps. I am commandeering this vehicle," Lottie said, thrusting her playing card identification towards the cab pilot a few metres away, who was assisting two freighter crew members with their luggage.

Jumping into the pilot's seat, she locked all the doors and started the engines. To exasperated cries from the owner, she ascended. Thrusting to full acceleration, she manually piloted the craft directly towards the roof of Brell's hotel several kilometres away.

### Chapter 60 – A little something

"That's it, all done for now." Brell flicked the screens off, turned to Gorst, and rolled on top of him, legs astride. "Anymore outpourings left?" She gazed into his eyes, enjoying his fingers stroking along her spine.

"Actually, I'm getting hungry," he said.

Typical Gorst, a bit of exercise and then he thinks about food.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Brell said, untangling herself. As she walked naked across the floor, a glance back showed Gorst, a sheet covering his knees as he rolled over to operate a food menu screen. His face was concentrating on which button to press, one hand hovering in the air next to the buttons, his other hand scratching his backside.

Brell shook her head and padded inside. A happy-sounding voice made an announcement.

" _Please do not be alarmed, the hotel foyer is temporarily closed. All service requests will continue as normal, enjoy your stay."_

Thinking nothing of it, she stood under a warm beam shower, rubbed herself down and wrapped herself in a large towel.

Was that a noise?

_P-zap_.

A laser pistol?

She ran into the bedroom.

Gorst was lying back on the bed, his face motionless, relaxed, lifeless, a red-black wound in the centre of his chest.

Standing still, shocked, her attention flicked left to the balcony. Smiler grinned back at her, a pistol in his hand. Pocketing the weapon, he pulled out a thin metallic tube.

"Hi," Smiler said, as if meeting an old friend. "Those announcements are regarding my friend's actions in the foyer. The alarm is of no concern. It gives the Corps something to do instead of coming up here."

Running at him, she felt a stinging sensation in her chest which made her roll backwards onto the bed, across the top of Gorst's legs. He was warm.

Reaching back with her hands, she managed to pull herself across Gorst's body and onto the other side of the bed. Her lower body was beginning to lose sensation.

"A little something to keep you subdued," Smiler said. He grabbed Gorst's shoulder. Hefting it forward, the body slid off the bed to fall heavily on the floor.

"Was he a good man? Regretfully, I couldn't afford to keep him alive," Smiler said. "Now, the Locardum?"

"No idea," Brell said, trying to push herself away from him, her towel still wrapped around her.

"Don't think you can try anything," Smiler said, zapping Brell in the midriff with the thin tube, then again in the upper chest.

As if a cold gloom had descended on her body, she felt light pins and needles before losing all external sensations in her body below her neck. An attempt to move her legs met with no response. Still able to move her upper limbs, she tried to shift her backside across the bed, but two short blasts into her shoulders stopped any feeling in her arms and hands. Continuing to be aware of what was going on, it was similar to having a surgical procedure from a doc bot.

Resigning herself to the inability to move, she craned her neck to see what Smiler was doing.

He sat on the bed by her feet, fondling the toe stump left after their previous meeting. "I missed the conception show with you and lover boy, unfortunately. Just popped over from the balcony next door. Yes, it was that easy."

Frantically, Brell looked around, trying to think of anything to raise an alarm: her cube, hotel media console, or the fire alarm.

She shouted.

"No use. Rooms like these have thick walls. They're meant for privacy. The room devices are turned off, except for the music. I like this tune," he said moving his head.

Gorst was dead, lying on the floor. She'd left him ordering food. Did he go ahead with the order or wait for her to return from the shower? Were there meal waiters on their way? Feeling fatigued, her mind went straight back to a few days ago, when she was tied up at the apartment waiting for Smiler's next move.

"There's no escape, no stupid assistants, and no one is interested in helping you. Now, let's get you ready," he said, placing one knee on the bed.

She saw Smiler's hand running up her body to her neck. Fingers fussed with the towel, which he opened to expose her nakedness.

"Lovely, exactly as I expected."

Seeing him grasp and rub her breasts, she lay with her head back, thankful for being numb. He grabbed her head and stared at her. Dominance and excitement lay behind his eyes. He had bad breath.

Placing her arms alongside her body and pulling her knees apart, he leant on the bed. In a mesmerised state, his fingers explored her body. A few strands of hair dangled off his bald patch.

A light breeze from the balcony swirled a curtain as music played, its melody at odds with the developing scene inside the room.

He stood up and stared at her. "This is what's going to happen. I ask you about the Locardum, then I rape you, then I kill you. So just lie back and think of your dead boyfriend and your baby."

"I won't tell you anything," she said, having difficulty speaking.

Smiler leant over her, a joyful grin on his lips as he reached into a side pocket in his overalls. "This is an illegal truth spray. Superior to Corps' crap. Ready?"

A cold fine spray hit her face. Squeezing her eyes and mouth shut, she twisted her head back and forth. It was no use; she felt the substance tingling on the back of her throat. Her awareness reeled as if she was about to faint. Unable to normalise what was happening, her mind went through a brief sporadic swirl of thoughts before settling into an unnaturally relaxed state.

"Where is the Locardum? And what is the source of your information? You must tell me where it is." Smiler spoke the last words forcefully.

Brell heard the questions sounding far away, compelling her to speak. The answer came to her lips, but she stopped herself from speaking aloud.

Fingers squeezed her jaw, followed by a slap to her cheek.

"The Locardum?"

The voice commanded her. Another slap on the cheek. I have to answer – must not answer. The two voices clashed.

Her face jerked left and right in response to repeated slaps.

"I order you to answer. Where is the Locardum?"

"It's ... it's Non-Association," Brell said. Words slipped out of her dream. She couldn't stop. So relaxed, so commanding. I Have to answer.

"Non-Association? Which planet? Where?" the voice shouted at her.

She must answer.

"Kaznac. At the Farmlands. It's ... err, win ..." Her voice trailed off as she slurred her words, clenching her mouth shut. There, it was out, as commanded.

"Non-Assoc, Kaznac. No surprise. It is a win ... for me. How did you get your information?"

Struggling to prevent herself answering, she bit her tongue but blurted out an answer. "Mayleth, her implant, audio ..."

"I knew you got to the woman before she was fried," Smiler said, slapping his thigh. "Knew it!" He laughed and glanced at his chronometer. "I need you awake for the next bit."

Another mist was sprayed on her face. With her heartbeat doubling, she felt a sudden rush of energy and her face stung.

Gorst? No, Gorst has gone. Opening her eyes, now fully alert, she tried to move her hands, to push herself up, but she couldn't apply any pressure. Bewildered for the moment, she lapsed into a moment of futility. No one was coming to save her. This really was the final few moments. Her thoughts couldn't comprehend the inability to move or act in some way, to go down fighting.

"And we are back, alert, but unable to move," he said. "Now I know where the Locardum is, thank you for that. It's time for my fun with your beautiful blue body – just showered as well. Perfect. I don't mind sloppy seconds, but hey, I suppose you're used to that."

"Fuck you, Smiler," Brell said, finding the energy from somewhere.

"No, fuck you, blue bitch."

A pillow was thrust under her head.

"Thought you might like to watch. Hey, what's this?" He stepped over to a bedside table. "Massage oil?" He undid the top. "Smells nice. Expensive?"

Squeezing its contents over her lower body, he spread the oil with one hand whilst massaging his groin with the other. He unfastened the lower part of his overalls and reached inside.

"Ready?" he said, tilting his head and making eye contact with Brell. "I've dreamed of this," he said, breathing between his teeth.

On seeing Smiler languidly move his gaze down her body, she closed her eyes.

" _Excuse me, Miss Sturlach, Mr Ritsma, this is security. Just a courtesy call. Someone has contacted us with concerns regarding your safety. We pride ourselves on privacy. However, if there is a problem, please contact us back. If we do not hear anything, we will make a polite visit in five minutes. Thank you,"_ the voice sounded out over a hidden speaker.

Opening her eyes during the message, Brell saw him standing at the end of the bed in disbelief.

"Shit, you have to be joking."

After hearing the security announcement, Brell felt her spirits lift; assistance was at hand. Lottie or someone must have contacted security. She shouted out.

Smiler's face, flushed and angry, appeared in her vision. "Time is against me," he said, unable to conceal his frustration. "At least I can kill you properly, you blue bitch. Who do you think you are, eh? All miss high and mighty."

Brell felt the sting of a slap on her face.

"You used to be a dirty, pathetic, drug addict. Well, your old friend is back, Deep Yellow. What a name, reminds me of piss. You've missed it, haven't you? Well this one contains a special mix."

He waved a small phial in front of her face.

"It has one thought stream. Chaos. It will send your mind spinning until your brain overloads. Not a nice way to go. But I owe you that much."

She tightened her jaw.

Fingers squeezed her cheeks roughly, the pressure forcing her lips apart as liquid dribbled onto her tongue. As it trickled down her throat, she swallowed involuntarily.

"There, all done. Your baby is an orphan before it's born. I might adopt it. No, I'll just kill the little bastard. His mother's penalty for causing me so many problems."

Through glazed eyes, Brell saw him stand up and walk out of sight. "Enjoy your trip. I'm off to find the Locardum."

His voice and other sounds were becoming muffled, distant. A series of what sounded like distant blasts was the last thing she heard as surroundings faded into whiteness. A menu with the single word _Chaos_ listed underneath appeared in her mind. Seconds later, the words _Auto Selected_ blinked on and off.

She was ten years old, opening the kitchen door. Her mother was sitting with her head on a table, asleep, surrounded by empty intox bottles.

Her first duty parade in Police Corps, with faces examining her.

Examining her first bottle of Deep Yellow, its golden contents twinkling in sunlight.

The sights, sounds and smell of her first night in prison.

Fighting with Carac Montil during _Convict Challenge_. Struggling with Katey in the hotel room, light flickering across her face. A laser pistol exploding.

"Greetings, Miss Sturlach." Lottie smiling, her voice slow and monotone.

Gorst smiling in slow motion.

The conception circus troupe marching out of the hotel room in exaggerated movements.

Her thoughts came and went, whirling, not in a meditative floating way, but stuttering, crashing. Places, people, and scenes from childhood were replaced by random thoughts from yesterday. With no ability to slow down, control, or take stock, she headed towards an inevitable overload.

Speeding up, like a children's whizzer toy spinning rapidly, her thoughts collided into each other. There were snippets of blurred speech, faces distorting, places morphing into twinkling space and planets looming into view.

White space appeared between the threads, her mind overloading, reducing itself to a distortion of colour.

Then, nothing.

### Chapter 61 – Recovery

Within the vacuum of a white void, a myriad of grey specks appeared. Each speck grew fractionally, their minute connections reaching out towards each other. Once a network formed, reds, blues, and other hues merged within the nexus. Dots appeared sporadically, gravitating towards each other as a picture formed.

Gorst, smiling, happy, relaxed. Laser shots.

"Brell."

A voice. Was it inside or outside her head?

"Brell."

She sleepily opened her eyes. Everything was blurred.

"Brell, you're inside a hospital."

Brell fell asleep, uncertain if she was alive, dead, or dreaming.

***

She awoke in a bed, lying on her side, watching the dust motes within the sunlight streaming through a window. Sensing the presence of Gorst behind her, spooning, she found his hand and placed it on her stomach. Snuggling backwards, his head nestled into her neck. She was warm, safe, happy, and drowsy.

Opening her eyes later, the sunlight shone onto a different place on the carpet. Gorst's hand remained on her stomach, and touching it, she thought it felt smaller and colder than normal.

Her eyes widened as another thought hit her. She let out a sigh. Gorst was dead.

She relaxed and patted the hand, now realising its owner.

"Lottie?" Brell said, remaining still, examining the sun's rays.

"Yes, Brell?"

"What are you doing?"

"Looking after you," Lottie said, lying on her side, her head resting on a pillow.

"Was I drunk again?"

"Not this time."

"Did I take my clothes off or start fighting?"

"No."

She rolled over onto her other side, to face Lottie. "Do you know how much my reputation would be damaged if people found out I had woken up next to a female robot?"

"You have a reputation?"

"Where am I, Lottie? I've vague memories of waking in hospital, people talking, machines, and then sleep. Gorst?"

"He has gone, sorry."

"I hoped it was a faulty memory."

Lottie slid out of bed and changed into a nurse's uniform consisting of a plain white jacket and trousers complete with a name badge. Leaving Brell for a while, she picked up a prepared medicinal concoction and put it on the bedside table.

Brell sat herself up.

"You've been in and out of consciousness for three weeks. We are on Elytia in a Police Corps apartment, safe within their headquarters compound. Your baby is secure and unharmed. Take it easy. There is a lot to explain."

Wiping her eyes, Brell said, "My head feels like a laser axe has split it in two."

"Here, drink this. The doctor says it tastes like crap."

Curling her lip at Lottie, Brell downed the medicine in one go. "Whaar."

Her head cleared as the medicinal stimulants assimilated into her system. She rubbed her head, peeked under the bed sheet at her body, and felt her legs. "Still in one piece."

Lottie brought her water to wash down the medicine. "The doctor recommended these." She held out a packet of smoke tubes. "He says they worked for him."

Taking out a tube, Brell sniffed it and tapped the end on the packet to light it. She took a puff. "Not bad. Doctor's orders?"

"Special rolled weed with extra elements," Lottie said. "Now, as this is the first day you've been fully awake, I would recommend a shower and breakfast."

"Yes, nurse." Brell focussed on Lottie's name badge. "Nurse Lottie Ludwig?"

"A no-nonsense nurse on _Plundering Pirates_ – a good-hearted individual, despite her strict exterior. She doesn't get the girls or boys, before you ask. Stand up slowly."

"Yes, Nurse Ludwig."

With Lottie's help, Brell stood up and walked to the bathroom holding onto the wall.

Inspecting her body after the shower, she saw bruised puncture marks from all the tubes. Apart from the weight loss, all the other scars were in the right place. At least her hair was growing back.

***

"Ready," Brell said, dressed in loose-fitting clothing. Using careful movements, she sat on a settee in the small living room area.

Lottie, sitting next to her, activated a large screen. "Headlines first. If it's too much, let me know."

Lighting up another smoke, Brell patted Lottie's knee. "Give it to me straight, Lottie, no bullshit."

"After your conception ceremony, Smiler shot Captain Gorst dead with a laser pistol. He numbed your body from the neck down. Using a truth spray – we found droplets on your face – he presumably asked you about the Locardum."

Brell's thoughts, like walking through glue, tried to keep pace with the information.

"He forced you to take Deep Yellow. Acting on information, I flew to your hotel and unlocked the room using the tidy bot master key trick. Smiler shot through the door at me, then fired randomly, probably at you. We think his hands were slippery from the massage oil, due to the position of the shot holes. He crawled back across a telescopic ladder to the balcony next door. I decided to assist you rather than chase him."

Images of the corridor outside the hotel room showed Lottie standing to one side of the door as laser blasts ripped through, shot from inside.

"Smiler?"

"Got away. He's not been found since. It's possible the Tinker's men got to him before Police Corps could find him. Mayleth is unharmed, so we think he was only interested in the location of the Locardum. A specialist doctor holidaying in your hotel, hearing of your Deep Yellow experience, personally took charge of your treatment."

Moving images showed a man wearing a colourful short-sleeved shirt standing over Brell's hospital bed. She was hooked up to various machines and unconscious, wearing a tight head covering.

"An expert on Deep Yellow and similar psychotic substances, he created a cocktail of drugs to stabilise you before flushing out your system. The cold cap slowed your brain and senses down. Something to do with creating an intensive synaptic stimulus."

Brell rubbed a hand over her scalp to feel the small indents from the cap.

"The baby?"

"Your hotel has one of the most secure birthing chambers on Symphony. You can access live streams to see him. Here ..." she said, displaying some images.

"Not much to see at the moment, but he is safe and secure."

"Questions?"

"Did Gorst suffer? How did you find me?"

"Gorst was killed with a single shot. He would have felt nothing. I saw Smiler with an assistant entering the rear of the hotel. I contacted Delta, who woke up Scrivvens. He made an urgent call to hotel security, revealed his identity and made them contact your hotel room immediately, even though they were busy with vapour bombs."

"Vapour bombs?"

"Smiler hired a young assistant to set off vapour bombs in the hotel reception. It acted as a diversion to enable him to crawl over to your room. Smiler's man inhaled the vapour and died. Others managed to get outside."

"My injuries?"

"Your thoughts will be slow, memories will return, but they may be disordered for a while."

"Anything else? Don't hold back."

"From the position of your body on the bed, we think he was about to rape you."

"I have a vague memory of him being interrupted."

"Before others arrived I checked Captain Gorst, looked you over, made you comfortable, more decent, and covered your body with a sheet. All evidence was preserved at the scene. From his finger marks, he had a good grope but nothing else occurred. The timing of the security announcement suggests it stopped him going further and went for the Deep Yellow instead."

"Thanks, that makes a big difference."

"As you are aware, you are in a post-traumatic phase – intox and drugs are not allowed."

"Pity, it's how I used to deal with it. A bit of Deep Yellow and a bottle of intox took it all away."

"Not this time. Nurse Ludwig has written a get-well programme consisting of sleep, health boosters, massage, exercise, watching stream shows, cuddles, piloting, and talking."

"Thanks, nursey. The _Lulu_?"

"Wanda is piloting. I created a work schedule for her, including meetups with Spinney, boyfriend Wark and visits here. It provides a steady income."

Brell held Lottie's hand. "Thanks, Lottie. I appreciate all you've done. One question. Regarding the sleeping in my bed thing."

"During the night, when half asleep, you put your arm out as if to reassure yourself that Captain Gorst was there, beside you. First I held your hand, then I lay beside you. Body contact made you less tense. You slept well after that. I ensured we both wore pyjamas and everything was proper," Lottie said, almost standing to attention.

***

"First off, Brell. I can only reiterate my condolences for Gorst," Brune said.

His face appeared on a shared communications link.

"Scrivvens and I attended his funeral, and a local service was held at Police Corps HQ. We captured the ceremony in case you want to see it, including messages from Gorst's parents and his brother. They were heartened with the news of your birthing pool baby."

"Thanks."

"We confirmed Smiler's true identity at last. It's Algernon Bryan Bickle. We got it from a forensic scan of a bottle of massage oil and genetic code from the bathroom he used in the room next to yours."

"I must have blabbed about the Locardum. He used a truth spray."

"It couldn't be helped, with what you went through. Smiler has gone to ground and, interestingly, Katey's mini cruiser was sold at a service moon often used as a jumping-off point for visiting Non-Assocs. Nothing heard of her since."

"Okay, so what happens next?"

"Smiler is wanted across the galaxy, we continue trying to trace Katey, and the Tinker's empire is being monitored. There have been no reports of a new batch of Locardum in circulation. Deputy Mourge is still considering whether to ask Space Corps to visit Kaznac, but he's dragging his heels. Budgets, danger and politics, apparently."

"No surprise," Brell said.

"The main thing is to get you back to full health, and please don't go after Smiler yourself," he said, probably knowing she wouldn't take any notice of him. "You're released from all things Police Corps and Lottie is on loan to you indefinitely. Deputy Mourge, in light of everything, authorised your pension payments." Lowering his voice, he continued, "But he has kept those prison orders in his desk."

Reaching over, she lightly punched Lottie on the arm. "Stuck with me now, Lottie."

"I think we've said enough. You have our full support and we can arrange anything you need. Oh, before I forget, Lottie picked up seventeen speeding tickets on her flight to your hotel on Symphony. Not a problem, obviously, under the circumstances, but it took me a while to sort out. She broke every flight regulation, code, and traffic law. It's a first apparently for a robotic assistant. They normally abide by the rules. Anyway, I'll call soon."

"Thanks, Brune." She waved as he terminated the screen. "Lottie, did you hear that? You old lawbreaker."

"Police Corps business. You know how it is, boss," Lottie said, nonchalantly.

***

She conversed often with Gorst's parents, who helped her arrange for flowers and ceremony candles to be left by a commemorative plaque. In addition, she sent messages of thanks to the hotel and medical staff on Symphony. Scrivvens frequently spoke to her, which gave Lottie an opportunity to catch up on bot gossip with Delta.

After much internal conflict, she called her mother. A tense, turgid conversation was held, revealing that her mother's drinking habit was worsening.

"Ha, you have a robot assistant now. What next, a metal boyfriend?"

"So when will I see my grandson? When he's twenty? If I'm alive by then."

"You'll find another man, trust me."

Refilling her glass in-between sentences, her mother spoke at length, often meandering on about Brell's childhood. Keeping a plain expression throughout, Brell wished her mother well at the end, with a promise to contact her again. It would be a long time before she did that.

That evening she watched Lottie fussing around in the kitchen and wondered what she would do without her. She imagined her flying to the hotel, telling traffic bots to swivel on her index finger. Her actions – using a tidy bot's key to open the hotel door and surprising Smiler – saved her life.

Brell soon found a way to repay her.

Lottie was unable to contain her excitement when Brell announced she'd secured sought-after tickets for The _Plundering Pirates_ Convention in an Elytian conference hall. Dressed as Engine Room Fanny, Lottie met actors and took images with First Officer Kitty and Nurse Ludwig. Apart from posing with fans admiring her outfit, she browsed the many market stalls, eventually buying an official Agent Plumbuck identity badge and pass holder. Brell maintained a wry smile throughout, especially when Lottie stood next to Deezal Pompadour for an image and signed card.

That was the problem for Brell: buoyant one day, staring down a hole the next. Weeks passed, but something pricked at her, unseen but inside her mind. Her thoughts twisted between Gorst and Smiler. The future? She could go back to pulling cargo until the baby was born, and somehow juggle both. Baby names escaped her, instead preferring to keep calling him junior.

Viewing her son growing in the birthing chamber filled her with happiness and despondency in equal measure.

***

"Doctor Dropout" – their nickname for the maverick medic who saved her – arrived one day to check on his patient. Wearing an open-necked shirt, a long slim jacket, his braided long hair, beard, and relaxed nature made him a fascinating character. Swapping Deep Yellow experiences, Brell enjoyed his company and laughed for the first time in a long while.

He was an ex-drug user, who, having studied the effects of drugs on himself, turned his experiences into professional qualifications. Before leaving, he gave her the name of his special weed smoke supplier, which Brell felt kept thoughts of addiction at bay.

***

During one of Wanda's visits, she dragged a reluctant Brell outside the compound to a pub.

"Right, no bollocks, tell me what happened," Wanda said on finding a corner table and ordering drinks.

"Wanda, I'm okay, really."

"Brell, we are two rough, tough cargo pilots with a feminine side, so don't piss me about."

Without pausing, Brell spoke of the events for two hours, mindful not to mention anything relating to Mayleth. Wanda sat still throughout, drinking beer and smoking.

"Well, honey, you've certainly been though it," Wanda said. "I've had my fair share of moments over the years. I was raped by two men with bots and lost my sister around that time. Things were dark for ages ... not proud of myself during that period," Wanda said, her voice and face unusually sombre.

"Wanda ..." Brell said, reaching a hand forward.

"It's okay. Tell you about it sometime, not now. But I got back on with life. Spinney, in my case, and your baby in yours – they give you that hope."

"Well let's drink to past hardships, Wanda, and future adventures."

They clinked glasses.

"Let's change the subject. How's Wark?"

"A big old bear on the outside but soft and gentle on the inside."

"He is more than a drinking buddy, then?"

"On our first proper date we got straight down and did the business. No mucking about." She puffed contentedly on a "healthy" smoke tube whilst raising both eyebrows.

After Wanda left with Spinney, Brell filled Lottie in on her conversation in the pub.

Lottie's face remained quizzical.

"You're thinking about Wanda and Wark together, aren't you?"

"A visual image just popped into my mind of them being intimate."

"Stop it before it damages your circuits." She paused as Lottie's expression changed to wonder, her mouth open and eyes widening. "It's too late, isn't it?"

"Yes. I'm afraid it is."

### Chapter 62 – It's a pleasure

In keeping with her promise, Brell contacted Commodore Xadian and asked a favour, for which he was very willing to oblige.

Met at the front door by the commodore, Brell, Wanda and Spinney went inside to the living room.

"In here, ladies. Mrs Dorry and I have prepared a little buffet for you."

"Now, is this the budding Space Corps pilot?"

"Yes, sir," Spinney said, making a curtsey.

Both she and her mother wore colourful dresses, bought specially for the occasion. Wanda threatened Brell to never mention it to anyone.

With her hands resting on Spinney's shoulders, Wanda said, "Thanks for seeing us, Commodore."

"It's a pleasure, my dear. I believe you're a pilot as well, madam, on freighter loads like Miss Sturlach. I've seen off pirates many times making attacks – trying to steal the cargo, you know. Nasty fellows."

Wearing his dress uniform emblazoned with ribbons and medals, the commodore regaled them with stories of derring-do from his long and varied career. Spinney sat in awe at the escapades. Wanda glanced often at Spinney, a proud smile on her face.

Helping herself to food and drinks, Brell sat down and listened to the stories. It was nice not to have to think too much.

During a break from talking, Xadian asked if they wanted to see his collection of memorabilia. Uniforms, decommissioned weapons, images of him shaking hands with dignitaries, awards, certificates, and medals adorned the room in purpose-built cabinets. As Spinney and Wanda admired or played with the weapons and artefacts, the commodore pulled Brell to one side.

"I hear, Miss Sturlach, that you lost your partner. Shot by a bastard of the highest order."

"Correct, Commodore."

"I'm sorry for you, Miss Sturlach. I lost my first wife, you know, decades ago. We were on a raid together. I don't talk about it in front of Mrs Dorry."

"I'm listening," Brell said.

"We took part in a morning raid on a large reclamation yard full of space junk. The owners were a known criminal gang illegally constructing weapons, which they attached to normal-looking space transporters. They caused all sorts of problems with freighters. Intelligence was off; we were outnumbered and landed in the wrong place. There it was ..." The commodore pointed to a position on a map of the galaxy.

"We were surrounded, and in the chaos we fought our way out individually. Sooki, my missus, been married a year, was amongst four officers caught by the gang. The leader appealed for us to give up. Keeping our ground, we watched as they stripped our colleagues of their equipment ..." His voice faltered.

"Go on, Commodore."

"They shot them one at a time. Couldn't do anything about it. We got evacuated, but I swore I'd get him – the leader, you know."

"Did you?"

"Six years later, I caught up with him trying to flee in a space cruiser. I crippled the craft, boarded it to make certain it was him."

"What did you do, Commodore ?"

"Looked him in the eye and shot him. Got disciplined over it – didn't care. I grieved properly after that and I'd avenged Sooki." He flattened his moustache. "You can listen to the do-gooders talking about moving on. Hogwash. Find him, Miss Sturlach, and kill him. You'll never rest otherwise," the commodore said, his voice becoming stern.

"Thanks, Commodore, I'll give it some thought." She touched his arm.

"Now, where's the young lady?" Turning, he saw Spinney holding one of his pilot caps. He placed it on her head.

"Hold on ..." Wanda said, taking an image of the two of them.

"Well, Miss Spinney, if you are interested in Space Corps, when you are sixteen, I would recommend you join the SCC – the Space Corps Cadets. When you're eighteen you could join Space Corps proper. If you need a reference, Mrs Spinney can contact me, I would be delighted. The Corps are always on the lookout for young talent."

Later, after telling Lottie about the day's events, all she could say was, "Did you say Wanda wore a dress?"

***

At night, when half asleep, memories of the events in the hotel room started to return: the "thud" of Gorst dropping to the floor and Smiler's leering face as he moved his hands over her numb body. His fingers pinched her cheeks and he made a threat, though she couldn't recall his words. She shuddered herself awake at those moments. A low light near the bedside helped her orientate herself.

She watched Gorst's funeral again – a cremation on his home planet with a full religious ceremony. As per his family's cultural beliefs, his body was cremated exactly one hundred hours after the time of his death. Aware of Lottie's footsteps nearby, she put her hand out, which Lottie silently held.

"I miss him, Lottie. He'll never see our boy grow up. He stood by me through all the grief I threw at him."

Lottie lay at her side that night.

***

A week after meeting Xadian, Brell was casually browsing through messages when one appeared from an obscure source. About to delete it, she asked Lottie for advice.

"Hold on." Lottie opened a Police Corps program. "Open it using this, it won't cause any damage. I'll copy it, in case it self-destructs."

The first view was of someone's back, as if they'd just pressed a start button. Facing the camera, the person was only visible from the waist up. Though in a low-lit room, there was something familiar about the eyes and the face structure.

"It's me – Katey. I have confirmed where the property is, and have sole access to it because of my family bloodline. Can you help me transport it off-planet? In return, I need a deal so I can return home. I ... um" – her hand pulled at a metal band around her neck – "I, um, have been sentenced to death, to be executed in exactly two weeks' time. Long story." She wiped her eyes. "Tell my mother I'm alive ... for a while anyway." Boards creaked, making Katey glance to the side and speak quickly. "I'm at The Half Angel Tavern, Dredge City, Kaznac."

Katey's hand reached forward, and the clip ended.

"Play it again."

Appearing gaunt and tired, Katey's demeanour was one of defeat. The neckband was a restraint, as opposed to decoration. Beer barrels in the background suggested a storeroom. Her clothes were worn, stained.

"Acting as a man, Lottie?"

"Yes. Lower voice and more darker around the face. Her hair is a different colour and she's wearing a tight undershirt."

"What has happened? She's not the same woman I fought a while back. So, she's found the Locardum. Family bloodline? Must be a genetic identification procedure. Being a Montil, Carac would have ensured only himself, Katey, or his sister could access the ore. It must be all for the sake of the farm," Brell said, rubbing her chin.

"Some reports from travellers suggest women often hide their identity by acting as a man on Non-Assocs – for safety reasons," Lottie said.

"Death sentence?"

"Hold on." Lottie interrogated some systems. "Just brief snippets. Dredge City. It's a principality within the Industrial and Business protectorate on Kaznac which sentences people to death, then loans them out to businesses who work them as disposable slaves. If they survive, they are executed."

"Half Angel Tavern, beer barrels in a storeroom – obviously suggests a pub-type premises. Neckband?"

"Non-Assoc style of punishment, old methods. Probably explodes if she leaves the building."

"Nice. The main thing is, she knows exactly where the Locardum is located, and can access it, but is asking for our help. But she's not in the Farmlands near the two places mentioned in Mayleth's implant. Did we wrongly interpret Mayleth's information?"

"There could be a good reason for her being at the inn."

"True. Thing is, Smiler made me answer him, though I remember trying to clamp my mouth shut, so I don't think I fully mentioned those two place names." Brell took a long puff on her smoke tube. "If he just heard 'the Farmlands', it's a vast region, the 'food bowl' of the planet. It may take Smiler time to find the exact place."

Sending a copy to Scrivvens and Brune, Brell viewed the clip several times. The Locardum was always lurking in the background. A large lump of ore responsible for deaths. Smiler wouldn't rest until he got his hands on it, let alone the Tinker. The one person who could lead them straight to the ore would be executed in two weeks.

Scrivvens, on examining the clip, stated it was genuine, not a trick. Brune passed a copy to Mourge for Space Corps to investigate - as Katey being on Kaznac tied in with Mayleth's information. However, her current location was nowhere near the Farmlands. It was a political dilemma, certainly, which if handled wrongly could cause untold damage and harm. Whatever was decided, Mourge would take a long time before he made a decision, to ensure it didn't affect his career.

Thankfully, Katey's information could be used officially, neatly sidestepping the whole Mayleth saga. As for Smiler, his whereabouts were still unknown.

***

Something nagged at Brell, an itch, a frustration which had steadily grown over the weeks since her attack. The Locardum, Gorst's murder, her son, Smiler on the loose and the sudden news of Katey awaiting execution. Leaning over the balcony, she watched a group of recruits walking in orderly columns, laughing and talking with each other, life continuing as if nothing else was happening in the galaxy.

Music sounded from the apartment next door, playing a familiar tune, one which she could recall but couldn't quite place.

"Frackfucking bastard, fracker."

"Brell?"

"Lottie, I just remembered what Smiler said. That tune playing next door. He said he would kill the little bastard. My son." She faced Lottie. "I've sat around for long enough."

"What are you going to do?"

### Chapter 63 – You'll enjoy it

Two days later, wearing a new pilot's jumpsuit, Brell boarded the _Lulu_ with an air of anticipation and uncertainty. Lottie followed behind carrying their valises.

She took in the sight of her cockpit, enjoying the moment, and nodding.

Lottie, wearing her first officer's jumpsuit, complete with cap, climbed into the co-pilot's seat. Activating the screens, she monitored vital systems whilst calculating power to weight ratios.

Having plotted a course to a navigation beacon, Brell engaged the drive, ascending gently, enjoying the feel of the engine thrust. They exited the upper stratosphere and then continued along marked routes towards the faster space lanes.

Once in auto drive, Brell pulled out a packet of her special smokes, lit one up, and proceeded to take a long drag. She propped the latest image from the birthing pool next to one of Gorst, her finger tracing a line across his face.

"We can stop for a fuel and rest break at a mid-galaxy moon," Lottie said.

"I know a good bar, Lottie, called the Grease Pit. A bit rough, but it has plenty of rugged space pilots seeking love and adventure. You'll enjoy it."

"And afterwards?" Lottie said, turning to face Brell.

"Afterwards, Lottie, my dear robot chum, we travel to Kaznac, the friendly, Non-Association planet where our good friend Katey will meet us to help load up the Locardum. Then we sail off into the sunset and prepare for junior."

"Anything else?"

Brell rubbed the scar on her head, reclined her seat, and blew out a large plume of smoke.

"I'm going to kill Smiler."

End

### Table of contents

Title

Copyright

Chapter 1 – The Grease Pit

Chapter 2 – All alone

Chapter 3 – Police Corps HQ

Chapter 4 – Old friends

Chapter 5 – Scrivvens

Chapter 6 – The apartment

Chapter 7 – The Tinker welcomes Smiler

Chapter 8 – Preparations

Chapter 9 – Plundering Pirates

Chapter 10 – Katey

Chapter 11 – Recollections

Chapter 12 – Return to prison

Chapter 13 – The farm

Chapter 14 – In you go

Chapter 15 – Smiler makes plans

Chapter 16 – Do you trust me?

Chapter 17 – Challenge One Revelry Party

Chapter 18 – The Challenge starts

Chapter 19 – It's not looking good

Chapter 20 – What you got?

Chapter 21 – More plans

Chapter 22 – Obliterator

Chapter 23 – She awake

Chapter 24 – Aftermath

Chapter 25 – Medical alert

Chapter 26 – While we've been talking

Chapter 27 – First things first

Chapter 28 – Time for a punch-up

Chapter 29 – It was tough

Chapter 30 – Meltdown

Chapter 31 – Spinney

Chapter 32 – Challengers get ready

Chapter 33 – Twist the accelerator

Chapter 34 – The shooting continues

Chapter 35 – To forgotten childhoods

Chapter 36 – My client is into property

Chapter 37 – The crop van

Chapter 38 – It's all building up

Chapter 39 – Secured

Chapter 40 – Welcome to the final challenge

Chapter 41 – The corridor

Chapter 42 – Our sponsor tonight

Chapter 43 – Predator

Chapter 44 – Recoil

Chapter 45 – Boom

Chapter 46 – Flames

Chapter 47 – Motionless

Chapter 48 – Just in case

Chapter 49 – Focus

Chapter 50 – Ointment

Chapter 51 – My head is fuzzy

Chapter 52 – A good deal

Chapter 53 – Quandary

Chapter 54 – Bad hair day

Chapter 55 – Symphony

Chapter 56 – Choices

Chapter 57 – The circus is in town

Chapter 58 – Outpouring

Chapter 59 – Decision time

Chapter 60 – A little something

Chapter 61 – Recovery

Chapter 62 – It's a pleasure

Chapter 63 – You'll enjoy it

Table of contents

Dedication

The author

### Dedication

To dad.

### The Author

**About the author**

Stuart's career in law enforcement involved fights, drama, boredom, and working an unhealthy number of shifts.

The years passed, the family grew up and eventually he published his first novel in 2015. Many of his ideas are inspired by work experiences and travelling around Europe, S.E. Asia, and the USA.

Born in North London, England, Stuart enjoys family life, cinema, and swimming.

Also by Stuart F. Dodds

Deep Yellow – (A Brell Sturlach Adventure) - published 2015.

The Fight for Locardum – (A Brell Sturlach Adventure) - published 2018.

Billie – an action thriller with compelling characters - published 2019.

Further information and contact

Website: www.stuartfdodds.com
