Deep Yellow (4 page)

Three weeks after the intox driving incident, Brell
attended a prize-giving ceremony with her unit Commander. It was a
handshaking, back-slapping event with free drinks, food, and a
miner's band playing live. The Commander had wandered off to do
some networking whilst Brell stood by the side of a food table at
the back of the hall. She had a brief conversation with Carac in
the company of her Commander. In amongst the polite talk, Carac's
eyes never left her; she felt them moving up and down her body. She
shivered when their meeting ended.

Biting into another
crispy-coated meat piece, she sipped a fruit juice and
people-watched. A mixed group, many off-worlders, a few locals, and
some miners with dirt inground faces wearing dress suits. The
high-powered players, the Carac types were networking away and
plotting their next moves or promotion.

A side door near Brell
opened.

"Quick, officer,
problem here," someone said sharply. No face appeared just the open
door and the room inside.

Putting down her plate
but keeping her drink, Brell hesitantly walked towards the door. It
was dim inside, but no one made themselves known.

"Help," the voice said
again.

Brell went inside. It
was an anteroom with another door on the far side. The door slammed
shut. Carac stood there, smiling at her.

"Help," he said in a
low voice. He grinned and tilted his head. "Hello, blue skin,
remember me?"

Brell swallowed and
stepped back against the wall. Carac stretched his left arm across
the door. Brell saw a small movement of his right hand, which was
reaching for something behind his jacket. She stiffened her legs
and body in a defensive position. He brought his hand upwards and
started to spray a substance towards her face.

Instinctively, she
threw her glass at his head. It skidded off his forehead and
smashed on the floor, but it made him stutter. Bringing her fist
down, she connected with his wrist and he dropped the spray tube.
She kicked it across the room.

The mist had sprayed
onto Brell's trousers and shirt; she could smell and taste it.
Feeling slightly woozy, she pulled at his fingers and hand to
unblock the door. Carac laughed and shook his head. She punched out
again at his face with her left hand, but he pulled his head back
in time, like a practiced boxer. He slapped the side of her head
and laughed.

Someone knocked on the
door.

"Everything okay, Mr
Carac? Prize giving soon."

Carac smiled.

"Run out of time.
Pity, I was going to save you for later."

Reaching forward, he
grabbed Brell's belt with his left hand and pulled her body towards
him. He kissed her neck and rubbed his right hand inside her thigh.
Then he shot his hand up to her left breast and squeezed it
hard.

Brell gasped, but his
grip on her was strong, and she felt powerless as he bent his neck
back to stare into her eyes. Dead eyes, the eyes of a man that had
power, who believed he could do whatever he liked.

Flinging her away,
Carac straightened up and after adjusting his tie he opened the
door.

Brell retrieved the
spray, wiped down her uniform tunic and trousers with shaky hands,
then sat on a table for a moment. When ready, she walked back into
the main hall. Carac was standing on the stage, master of
ceremonies, centre of attention, giving away prizes to loud
audience applause.

Afterwards, in her
quarters, she spent an hour in the beam shower, and then
incinerated her uniform. Sitting in her dressing gown, she drank a
litre of intox as the scene played over in her mind. How could she
have been so stupid, so duped? What happened to her Police Corps
training? She picked up a glass and threw it at the wall.

People would construe
any allegations against Carac as being vengeful. He would say that
she was drunk, infatuated by his power, and a way of getting
credits out of him. The feeling of violation and helplessness never
really left her. Images would float into her mind in the middle of
the night or during a meeting. She found herself becoming more
controlling at work, particularly when restraining and arresting
male prisoners. It took time before she felt ready to have a steady
relationship with a man.

As the days passed,
she got back on with her patrol duties. A tech at Corps HQ
confirmed that the tube contained a type of incapacitant spray,
often used by the military to overcome targets who later woke up in
a controlled interrogation building.

A short while
afterwards, Brell got her next posting, an urban city centre on a
planet mid-Galaxy. At least, she believed, that was the last of
Carac. However, it didn't stop him sending messages.

***

Brell gave the punch
bag a final hit and stood back, in her cell, breathing heavily.
Grabbing a towel, she wiped the sweat off her hair and stared at
Carac's image. Years later, despite all his wealth and political
influence, he received a life sentence for corporate homicide. He
had filtered credits, bought cheap equipment, and when the mines
collapsed, two hundred staff died. He could not wriggle out of his
involvement, despite trials, appeals, and retrials. She enjoyed
watching the events unfold from the comfort of her cell. He had
only been in prison properly for a year.

Missed me? Good luck
in prison. I believe you will be there a very long time

That was just one of
the messages she received from him.

When incarcerated
himself, more messages arrived.

From one cell mate to
another. Happy birthday.

So it went on. His
influence in prison allowed him to send messages outside of the
normal prison filters. He was always present, deep in her thoughts
or on her media cube, like an infatuated ex-boyfriend stalker.

At the end of every
note, it said, “blue skin”, “bluey” or similar.

She walked around in
circles, calming her breathing, shaking out her shoulders and arms,
then hit the punch bag four times. It was time to view her own
profile.

***

She found her image
and paused the screen. A dispirited, dejected ex-Corpswoman, a Deep
Yellow and intox addict stared back at her. It was the lowest time
in her life and took no effort in remembering stepping off the
prisoner transport ship in beam cuffs. Passing through each
successive secure entranceway, she felt a growing realisation of
never seeing freedom in the outside world again. The processing
guard smirked when Brell was officially booked in, a convicted
Corpswoman in for life as well. The indignity of the body scans
whilst standing naked in a small room was one thing, but did it
need that many guards to observe the procedure? It was unlikely
that she would cause a problem or try to escape, but they all
wanted to have a look at her. Her case had been a popular news item
across the Association.

Time to get it over
with.

“Play.”

“Born on Celeste to an
indigenous mother, Brellinane Sturlach grew up without knowing the
identity of her father. After a problematic childhood, she left
home and joined the Police Corps. Working on various inner cities
as well as mining and pleasure moons, she rose up the ranks, making
Captain with hopes of becoming a Skiff Commander.”

“However, after a Deep
Yellow and intox session, she stole a Command Skiff, flew over the
Inter Association Hotel, and fired into the penthouse suite,
killing a hotel guest and seriously injuring his family. Extensive
damage was caused to the hotel.” Images of the dead man, his
family, and the hotel appeared on screen.

“The Judiciary Corps
threw the full force of the law at her. The Police Corps were
embarrassed, the hotel had to be re-built, and the family was
devastated. Appearing at a real Assizes court, she received life
imprisonment for Association Homicide with yearly voluntary
termination interviews. She has currently served five years. Could
she be our winner?”

Her profile had many
items, galleries, images, and streams to view. She pressed “Holo
psyche interview 4.”

"Well, Brell, you have
been incarcerated for six months now. How are you settling in?" the
prison psyche analyst said.

"What do you want me
to say? Wonderful, everybody is being so helpful. The taunts, snide
remarks, pushes, punches, etc, are just my fellow inmates settling
me in."

"That’s to be
expected, though, isn’t it?"

"Look, I’ve been
stripped of everything: pension, promotion, enhancements, self
belief, and status."

"How is the Deep
Yellow treatment coming on?"

"The psyche and holo
treatments have helped." Brell's voice trailed off.

"Any virtual or real
visitors?"

"Not my mother,
obviously. Gorst has made a holo visit. That’s it. As soon as I was
arrested, all my friends suddenly had something else to do."

"So settling in okay,
then?"

"You’ve been really
helpful," Brell said. She sat back and crossed her arms.

"See you in six months
for your first voluntary termination interview."

"I look forward to
your visits. Always full of joy."

Brell paused the
programme. She had seen enough. Actually, her father was a drunken
itinerant cargo pilot whom she could not remember seeing as a
child. He could have originated from anywhere, as her skin colour
is a lighter blue than most Celestians. Her mother was an intox
drunk whom she couldn’t wait to get away from.

All thrown away; her
job, Gorst, and family life. Threw it all away. Glancing back at
the screen, she navigated to “Brell's Gallery”. There must be
something good here.

She stood outside a
Police Corps building with a senior officer, being awarded a trophy
for performing a diligent weapon smuggling investigation.
Confident, relaxed, and smiling, a fulfilling career ahead of her.
This was just before she discovered Deep Yellow. That was the old
Brell, where has she gone?

She snapped herself
back from the introspection, and without giving much thought, her
weak side had already made up its mind.

Opening the back lid
of her sculpture, she took out the ampoule.

Williams spent some time in his office going
through the various schedules and actions en route to the studio
and holo worlds where the challenge would take place. It was an
untidy office, holo logs, cups, intox containers, and weed smoke
packets strewn across his desk. Images and sculptures were
hap-hazardly placed around the shelves.

It had been a long day
already, what with working his way around the prison security and
performing the final viewing of the inmates with the Overseers.
None of them had any problem releasing their prisoner for the
Challenge; in fact, they wanted him to take a few more as reserves.
He felt relieved to be away from the prison planet, even though
being escorted by guards the whole time. A recurring feeling came
over him that he would be accidently locked in a cell and forgotten
about. However, he was happy with the choice of challengers, a good
mix to keep the audience interested.

Turning off his
constant stream of holo and implant communications, he picked up
one of the Inhab-47 artefacts that he had brought back.

"Inhab-47 playlist
one," he said and swivelled around to face a wall screen set to a
live stream of the view from his main office on Elytia. Skiffs,
tugs, trucks, and cabs skimmed along the sky lanes curling their
way around the capital. The tall, thin towers and spires a
silhouette against the yellow evening sky. A glowing Police Corps
vehicle flitted in and out of the traffic, screaming to another
emergency.

Opening a carved
wooden box, he took out a wrapped weed smoke, touched it on the lid
to light it, and placed it in the side of his mouth. He relaxed
back and traced the artefact’s outline with his index finger,
whilst thinking about Inhab-47.

***

Though requiring
various node jumps and hyper sleep, it was worth the effort.
Inhab-47 was the best of the listed inhabited worlds, most of which
were just moons with swamp creatures or insects. The definition of
‘inhabited’ was loose. Inhab-22 consisted of warring tribes, too
dangerous to study and many years from First Contact. Obtaining
Association permission to study Inhab-47 at close quarters had not
been too difficult due to the worlds flourishing technology.

The inclusion of First
Contact specialist Soohan Klastriyx on the crew had been a good
decision. She would become invaluable to Williams. An Elytian, she
studied community behaviour and had been involved in First Contact
missions. Tall, with fading blonde hair, natural wrinkly face, not
the type for cosmetics, she was in her mid-sixties and enjoyed rock
climbing. Together with her historian husband, they frequently took
on projects in some of the furthermost parts of the Vorsan Galaxy
or just outside.

She was good company,
as well, often regaling Williams with stories from the journals of
early First Contact specialists. For example, when Thracia received
its first beam propulsion engine, they immediately raided all of
their own moons, eradicating the indigenous population. Most of the
population of Fracard left their own planet and headed for richer
places, like Elytia, which eventually had to bring in strict
immigration controls.

Their first job
involved making sense of the huge amount of data that flooded out
of Inhab-47.

"We need to get our
first experience out of the way. Just for an hour in a safe city,
lots of people around where we won't stick out," Soohan had said
after two days of research into the planets inhabitants and
communities.

Williams found a
“Government Warning” information page regarding the safest places
to travel. Once compared with maps, news channels, and images, they
had a good idea where to go first.