Ellie Quin Book 3: Beneath the Neon Sky (12 page)

CHAPTER 21

Deacon led the armed men down through the crowded thoroughfare. At first, progress was painfully slow, requiring him more often than not to push the lumbering citizens out of his path. One burly looking shuttle pilot had barked out after him, telling Deacon he was going to teach him some manners. Deacon had dealt with him by giving a nod to one of his hired guns, who had casually pulled out his firearm and aimed it at the man. He disappeared into the crowd promptly.

He wasn’t going to let her get away. Not again, not whilst he had breath and a pulse in his body. He ordered all his men to pull out their firearms so that everyone around could see them clearly. Deacon did likewise, pulling his sidearm out of his hip-holster, extracting an ammo cartridge from his waistcoat pocket and slamming it home. The loud click and hum of the weapon charging for use, and the sight of the three mercenaries brandishing their pulse rifles, effectively did the job. Now, as he called out sharply to people in front of them to move aside and make way for official port authority business, they did so quickly and quietly, eyeing the weapons warily.

As they broke into a jog, he looked up at the large hangar doors as they passed them, the odd numbers to the right, even to the left.

Ninety-five, ninety-four…

*

Aaron looked at her, struggling to keep a calm and casual smile on his rough and unshaven face. ‘Of course I’ll look after them, Ellie,’ he replied. The terrible lie felt thick and oily on his tongue. When - if - she eventually found out that her family had all been slain, he knew she would never forgive him for keeping that news from her. He hated himself for lying to her like this.

‘I’ll make sure they’re kept out of harm’s way,’ he mumbled, his eyes meeting Jez’s for a moment.

‘Thank you Aaron,’ she said rushing forward and spreading her arms around his shoulders and holding onto him tightly. ‘I owe you so much,’ she whimpered into his chest.

‘You just make sure you catch that barge, girl.’

‘I will.’

He stroked her hair as she sobbed against him, dampening his oil-stained jump suit with tears. He looked up at Jez. ‘You look after her for me.’

‘Hey. You know I will,’ said Jez with a hint of smile for him. ‘You look after yourself too, big guy.’

He nodded and then pushed Ellie gently away. ‘You’d better go now, Ellie.’

She nodded, ‘I know.’

‘And whatever this is all about, when it’s done…and you’re safe. Come back and see me, okay?’

‘Okay.’

‘We’ll meet outside Dionysius. I’ll buy the coffee.’

Ellie nodded, and a fresh tear rolled down her cheek. She laughed, ‘not the cheap synthi-stuff next time. I can’t stand it.’

‘You got it,’ he replied. ‘Now go get your shoulder bag, and get out of here before you miss the barge.’

*

‘Deacon? It’s Leonard.’

He tapped the communicator on his wrist as he continued to jog down the concourse.

Eighty-one, eighty….

‘Yes…what is it, Leonard?’

‘There’s something going on in the hangar, it looks like…yes, it looks like two people are coming out…two people leaving.’

‘Leaving?’

‘Yes, like some sort of a big goodbye. I saw some hugging and that. Two of them coming out of the hangar now.’

Deacon was breathing hard and was unbearably hot in his jacket and waistcoat. He was tempted to throw the jacket to the floor and retrieve it later, but it was worth far too much for that - real silk - he’d never see the thing again.

‘What…do…they…look…like?’ he gasped, each word punctuated by a labored breath.

‘Hard to see, it’s not a great angle. I think it’s the two girls we tracked to that abandoned outpost.’

Ellie Quin and her friend once more.
Where were they going?
They took a shuttle here, and now they were leaving that behind? Why?

A cold stab of anxiety caused him to stop in his tracks. What if someone had a ship standing by? Whoever had organized that surface shuttle that had miraculously appeared in the middle of the desert, to whisk them to safety may also have organized surface-to-orbit transport.

Oh no, oh no. No.

The mercenaries had stopped with him and now turned, awaiting orders.

‘You and you,’ he said to two of them, ‘stop that shuttle from leaving. Kill the pilot if necessary. Shoot the ship’s engines out if necessary. Go!’

‘Yes, sir.’ The mercenaries turned round and hurried away with their weapons held out in front of them towards hangar 47.

Deacon turned to the third man - the mercenary he considered the most capable of the three, the most reliable; the one who had made a desperate last ditch attempt to prevent the girls getting away by scrambling onto the rising ramp of the shuttle as it lifted off.

‘You’re with me. We’re looking for those two girls again. They’re out here on this concourse, somewhere amongst these people. Keep your eyes open.’

‘Yes, sir.’

*

They emerged from the hangar, each carrying only a single bag. Ellie took one last look back inside through the open door and waved at Aaron, wondering if she would ever see him again. Picking Jez to come with her had felt like the worst kind of betrayal, but only Aaron could go back to the farm and collect her family and take them somewhere safe, which he’d solemnly promised to do.

Oh crud, I’m so sorry, Aaron.

She waved once more, but this time instead of returning the wave, he gestured for her to get a move on.

Remember, time moves along quicker than you think
, he had once told her. And that’s what he was telling her again now.

‘Come on, girl,’ said Jez, grabbing her arm. ‘We have to get a wiggle-on if we want to catch this barge of yours.’

Ellie checked the time again. There were twenty minutes to go until it was due to lift off, with or without them. ‘Oh crud, we really have to hurry,’ she said, ‘it’s up at the other end.’

They began to walk as swiftly as they could through the swirling mass of people. After a few moments pushing her way past several knots of people, Jez leant over and tapped Ellie’s shoulder.

‘Have you noticed?’

‘What?’

‘We look so-o-o-o-o New Haven.’

Ellie cast a glance down at her clothes and her bright green boots, and then at Jez, whose choice of garments was even louder. ‘Oh, freg, you’re right,’ she replied. They stood out in the milling crowd around them like a glowing billboard.

‘We need a little disguise.’

Ellie looked frantically around, aware that time was now working very much against them. She spotted a trading stall that sold the sort of clothing that Aaron and his fellow shuttle pilots seemed to like; tan colored flight jackets, olive colored boiler suits, dark plain caps, boots. Sensible, practical, durable…dull clothing.

‘Wait a second,’ she said to Jez before jogging across to the stall.

‘Those jackets, how much?’ she asked the trader, a short balding man with dark weathered skin.

‘These? Six
dees
a piece, lady. You’ll need an ultra-small though, let me look in the back I think I’ve got some that size.’

‘No, it’s alright, just give me two of those there,’ she said pointing towards the closest jackets hanging on display.

‘Uhh, way too big, honey, they’re…’

‘Just
do it!
’ Ellie barked. The trader recoiled with surprise.

‘I’m sorry,’ Ellie continued, ‘…it’s just….they’re not for me, they’re for my dad.’

‘Ahhh, okay. Well, these are large, forty-two inch…’

‘That’s fine. Just his size, thanks.’

Ellie handed over a twenty Harper’s Reach dee-note which the trader looked at uncertainly. ‘You got anything smaller? I’m low on change right now.’

She bit her lip and smiled. ‘Keep the change okay? I’m in a bit of a hurry.’

She returned to Jez moments later holding the jackets out in front of her.

‘Oh you’ve got to be kidding?’ said Jez grabbing hold of one of them and looking at the milling people around them. ‘Ugghh, I’ll look like one of these grubby mole-men.’

Ellie slid the over-large jacket on. It swamped her, covering her up almost down to her knees. Her green pvc boots still stood out conspicuously beneath her tan camouflage, but then she decided, within the press of people, few people were going to look down at her feet and see them. It would have to do for now anyway. Jez was almost as swamped by her jacket. She zipped up the front and pulled the hood up over her head.

‘Let’s go girl,’ she said to Ellie, ‘we’ve wasted too much time as it is.’

Ellie nodded, realizing how glad she was that Jez was coming with her; she couldn’t do this all on her own.

They resumed making their way at a torturously slow speed up the concourse, passing hangar after hangar, Ellie counting them as they passed by.

Sixty-two, sixty-three.

CHAPTER 22

Aaron watched her disappear from view. He knew instinctively that this was the last time he would see either of the girls. They couldn’t come back to Harpers Reach, not ever, and Aaron couldn’t see a way to get off-world. He watched the movement of people outside through the open door of the hangar, half hoping Ellie would return, half hoping she didn’t. Jez was right. His hiding-out-in-the-wilderness plan was mere desperation. The law marshals would catch up with them eventually. Ellie needed to get off-world as quickly as possible. If those people out there after her were really working for the authorities….
the Administration
, then it probably wouldn’t take them long to zero in on them again down here on this empty planet. There really wasn’t anywhere to hide down here.

And then what?

That was obvious, the same fate that Ellie’s family had met. These people weren’t leaving any talking mouths in their wake. He realized he was as much a target now without Ellie, as he had been with her.

Aaron walked across the hangar floor and disconnected the fuel hose from the belly of his shuttle. He dragged it back across the hangar floor, out of the way. He deliberately made the transaction electronically for the fuel and the stopover fee, perhaps that would draw Ellie’s pursuers his way and buy the girls a little more time.

He was good to go now.

But where?

Now there’s a question.
The choices weren’t exactly great. The best thing to do right now, would be to find somewhere remote, quiet and think it out. Actually, maybe the first thing he’d do is head over to Ellie’s old home, the farm, and bury those people he had heard so much about, but never met. It didn’t seem right that the farm would be left like that, with the enviro-dome door sitting open and valuable air leaking out….those people left on the ground where they had fallen. Aaron felt the need to tidy things up there for perpetuity. Maybe one day, if he met Ellie again, at least he’d be able to say to her that he took care of things, saw to her folks, turned everything off sealed-up the farm for good.

He climbed up the ramp, through the passengers’ suite, looking briefly around the clean, white and comfortable interior.

The snow-tours thing didn’t last very long did it?

He shook his head sadly, they could have made a small fortune doing that for a few years, maybe even enough to expand the business, buy another shuttle.

Oh well.

He climbed through the bulkhead into the cockpit, sat down in his seat and prepared to go quickly through the brief pre-launch checks.

*

Deacon cast a quick glance across the way at the mercenary stationed opposite.

A good man.

All three of them had been recruited from a pool based on Liberty. They were all security-approved, they had all been used previously for dirty work, each with a track record of efficiently performed assassinations. They were all exmarines, fit and well trained but, of the three, this one across the way seemed to be the sharpest of the bunch. He was scanning the crowd with a systematic sweep, first one way, slowly, then back again, like a sniper looking for a valid target. Deacon had read the dossiers on all three of the mercenaries he had been sent. And this one, Asset #2, had served several years in some of the Administration’s most elite military units.

Deacon felt confident that the job of combing the passing crowd for those two girls was being done efficiently from his side of the concourse.

Deacon and the mercenary were stationed outside hangars ninety-six and seven; a point where this wide concourse narrowed somewhat, pushing the passing shoppers, travelers, tradesmen, pilots, crews and passengers into a compact river of ambling, unhurried movement. But it still wasn’t going to be easy spotting them. He had a holographic image of Ellie Quin, a forty-five degree rotation from the front round to one side, taken when she had first entered New Haven nine months ago. The hair had been shorter then from what he had managed to see of her at a distance as she scrambled aboard the shuttle. Her friend, as yet - no name identified, a striking-looking young woman, a foot taller, close on six feet, again with fashionably cut hair a little longer than Quin’s. But it was their clothes from New Haven that would scream out amongst the crowd. Unless there had been a change of clothes aboard the shuttle in which they had escaped, the taller girl had been wearing a neon yellow plastic top with a distinctive ‘y’ strap up the back, the last time he had seen her. That’s what he needed to look for then, a splash of that unique, eye-searing neon yellow.

Silly girls.

They would have to squeeze through this narrow choke-point if they were going anywhere. He shot a glance at the mercenary leaning discreetly against the wall on the other side of the thoroughfare, scanning the passing foot trade intensely.

I’ve got a good man there.

Between them, there was no way past for the girls. This was where he’d reacquire her again. It was probably going to be a bloody, messy and very public execution. A discreet finish to the job would have satisfied his professional pride. But given how things might have gone, if this girl had managed to find a way off-world…

The thought made the hairs on his forearms rise.

*

Deacon had to concede he had been lucky. Arriving here an hour later he would have missed her. She’d be somewhere in orbit, and probably gone from this system before the blockade could be out in place. With hindsight, he shouldn’t have been worrying about taking a low-profile approach. This planet was nothing. Garbage. Old Earth language had a curious but apt-sounding aphorism for this sort:
trailer trash
.

What he
should
have done from the start was to have arrived on this planet with an entire marine group, instantly locked down the world with a quarantine order and then, with ground troops, grid-searched New Haven from top to bottom, then Harvest City.

He had been
very
lucky not to lose her.

*

Ninety-two and ninety-three…

They were making painfully slow progress squeezing their way up towards the other end of the port. Ellie checked the time once more. They had seven minutes left.

‘Oh crud, Jez, we’re going to
miss it
!’ she said under her breath. ‘We need to go faster!’

Ellie stood on tiptoes to look ahead. ‘Oh great, there’s a bottle-neck up in front of us.’

‘Well, why don’t we go round the back of the market stalls instead?’ asked Jez.

As Ellie had done earlier - only to bump into that strange old man in the dark, litter-strewn gap between the back of the stall and the large grimy wall of the concourse. She wondered who else they might bump into doing that again. But with only seven minutes left, there was no choice.

‘Okay,’ she said, pushing her way through the pedestrians, out of the flow and towards the wall to their left. They pushed through the gap between two stalls, and then Ellie cautiously poked her head around the back, looking left and right. A few other people were walking up and down this narrow, dim, passageway, equally frustrated by the crush of people out front. She saw a few traders pulling stock out of crates stacked behind their stalls. But it was empty enough that they could make faster time jogging along it.

‘We should run,’ said Ellie.

Jez pushed past her. ‘Okay, but let me go first, I’ll scare anyone out of our way,’ said Jez breaking into a jog, her platform boots
clacking
loudly off the metal floor.

Ellie followed in her wake, offering an apologetic smile to those few people they passed by, pressed awkwardly up against the wall to let them through.

‘They’re much more polite here than in New Haven,’ Jez shouted back over her shoulder.

Ninety-four, ninety-five…

They passed behind a stall selling music chips. Most of it was pirated and imported from other worlds by the look of the crates of goods out the back of the stall. She heard the muted twittering sounds of the Crazie-Beanie song blasting out from speakers around the front of the stall, and realized, finally, she’d heard the damned tune enough.