Chaos Cipher (29 page)

‘
Well…he’s
strong,’ said Kyo. ‘And angry for something.’

‘
Leave this
with me,’ Sonja said, walking to her window and looking out at the
patients. ‘I need to see some people. Have you any plans for
sundown?’

‘
I think so,’
Kyo said. ‘I think Pania has something planned.’

‘
Would you
like to meet me and Dak for something to eat?’

Kyo shrugged.
‘We’ll see.’

Sonja sighed.
‘I don’t want you at that hangar all the time,’ she
said.

‘
Why
not?’

‘
I don’t
trust Edge.’ She explained. ‘He’s a trouble maker. An Atominii
thug.’

‘
Nah he’s not
so bad,’ Kyo smiled, ‘he’s just misunderstood.’

‘
Well I’ve
heard some stories about him and his friend Professor
Laux.’

‘
What did you
hear?’

‘
I heard
they’re wanted men.’ She said, ‘by some dangerous
individuals.’

‘
But they’re
not bad people!’

‘
I didn’t say
they are bad,’ Sonja explained sternly. ‘I said they’re wanted by
dangerous people, Kyo. I don’t want you involved.’

‘
I won’t be,’
he said. ‘I just stay with Pania mostly.’

Sonja worried
her brow with his finger and thumb.

‘
Yeah,’ she
sighed. ‘Pick your friends carefully, son. I worry for you, so does
your father. Anyway. Think it over. I have to get back to
work…’

‘
So what
then, I just stop seeing them?’ Kyo argued with his arms wide. ‘I
just have no friends, is that what I do? Lock myself
up.’

‘
Don’t
exaggerate-’

‘
Well I’m
confused here,’ Kyo said, growing flustered. ‘Are you telling me
not to see them? Are you shadow bossing me?’

Sonja
steadied her own anger. How had it escalated to this? She wondered
why he was so defensive about this subject, and why he wouldn’t
hear her out.

‘
We hardly
see you!’ Sonja finally said. ‘And yes, in this instance, I’m
bossing you Kyo! I don’t want you to see them.’

‘
Why?’

‘
I’ve been
through this,’ she argued. ‘We don’t know Edge, and if you can’t
see what’s wrong then you’re not old enough to make good
judgements.’

‘
Hell if I’m
not, I’m old enough to vote!’ He growled. ‘I’m old enough to help
out around the city; I can get to know people. I can make my own
choices y’know. Isn’t that what this city is about? You always tell
me we’re free to do what we want so let me do what I
want…’

‘
Carrying
equipment and running errands for Laux got you into this mess with
Hattle. Is that what you want?’

‘
No!’ Kyo
shouted back, ‘Hattle got me into this mess with Hattle! And I
won’t let that asshole win by you not letting me see my
friends.’

Kyo hurried
for the door and his mother called.

‘
Wait! Kyo
wait a second!’

And he
stopped.

‘
You know why
I worry, don’t you?’

‘
Sure,’ he
said flatly, ‘because I’m a gene-freak.’

‘
No!’ She
tried, but Kyo was swiftly gone.

*

It was about
Thirteen-Twenty, C.A.L.C time by Laux’s watch. There was quite a
commotion out on the air zone. The Professor sauntered into the
daylight, welding goggles still banded to his forehead.

Some Mercs
had organised a welcome committee, and there were people gathering
on the runways. He saw trike buggy hang gliders swooping down,
their wheels bouncing across the runway as they came in. He could
hear their fan motors even from where he was, and he watched the
arching sails deflate as the pilots hurriedly climbed out of the
trike buggy cages and stalled the fans. Some air zone assistants
hurried to gather the glider material from the runway as two or
three more came down. Laux leaned against the hangar door as he
watched the show. He wasn’t sure what all the fuss was about. He’d
seen gliders up and down in the air all the time and it never
called for such an exhibition. He adjusted an audio-amplifier to
his earlobe so he could listen in on the conversations in the area.
But the verbal activity was scrambled and he was only getting the
occasional word.

‘
Damn it!’ He
cursed twisting the small device.

He heard
voices muttering nearby claiming they were on the way. Laux wasn’t
sure who the Atomagod they are but he had a feeling it was worth
making the fuss over.

Then,
jubilant cries and whoops of joy among the crowd, a smoke signal
was set off in the surrounding field, puffing out misty green
clouds. Then applause rattled into the sky. Laux squinted to see
another vessel descending through the pale clouds, much bigger than
a glider. It was a sleek machine forged to resemble the tear shape
of a peregrine falcon in a dive, slender, sinuous with an
untarnished silver fuselage. The long cadonavis had a single
booster at the back, two rotational articulation engines built
under the short flanked wings. The pilot window was a narrow slit
at the front. As the cadonavis came in for a landing the V-TOL
engines aimed down not far from the smoke signals and descended
gently onto the horizontal plain of the air zone. A loading ramp
descended from the belly of the ship while the cabin door by the
cockpit unsealed and smoothly dropped down, unfolding to construct
a twelve foot ladder to the floor. A long line of people emerged
from the ship and Laux watched the gathering greet them with
crafted gifts from Minerva Meadows. Everyone in Cerise Timbers,
including the republican military all did their part in serenading
their Russianomai guests with wreaths, necklaces and
mead.

Pania emerged
from the hangar, putting her other fingerless leather glove
on.

‘
Is that
them?’ she asked.

‘
Uh I think
it’s the Russianomai fighters from the hardlands.’ Laux commented,
reaching up to his right earlobe and twisting the audio
amplification device, struggling to get it working. ‘Damn this
contraption. I think they are here for the fight.’

‘
Good,’ she
nodded. ‘Where’s Biter?’

‘
According to
his quantics he should be here any minute.’ Laux said, checking his
Quantic-W armband for a real-time location map.

*

Hattle
slammed his fists together, the resilience of his gloves firm.
Pierce Lewis popped a gum-shield in the Hattle’s mouth promptly and
locked gaze with his strong and determined son.

‘
Knock him
out,’ he said.

Hattle bit
down on the Ethylene polymer still warm from the boiling water and
he felt it moulding around his teeth.

‘
Don’t show
him mercy.’ His father instructively went on. ‘You punch the shit
out of him, just like you did with the Bear.’

Hattle nodded
again, a morsel of fear emerging at the mention of his father’s
training tactics. ‘You’re going to win. Give it meaning. Remember
why you fight? You know why! These fucking anarchists won’t reward
you for your victory, which should piss you off even more. Kick the
crap out of that Russianomai bastard and make sure he knows that
back in the Atominii hardlands he may have a championship belt and
medals that we here can never take from him, but he’ll go home with
his pride shattered. Make those medals to him seem meaningless. Let
him know that his championship is a hollow title, because you still
breathe his air and you are the rightful champ!’

Hattle
nodded.

‘
Show that
little cock sucker what we’re made of here in Cerise
Timbers.’

Hattle
nodded.

‘
Don’t you
lose; you’ve more to fear from me than him.’

He nodded
again, eyes fixed ahead, staring directly through his father,
focussed on the fight before him.

‘
Good. Knock
him out Hattle.’

The ring was
a huge circular platform centred in an arena already crowded with
the welter of faces.

Due to the
nature of the relationship Cerise Timbers had with their
Russianomai guests, the fight had few supporters for the
Russianomai team, so in a gesture of good courtesy, Cerise Timbers
called for their city martial arts enthusiasts to support the
Russianomai champion here to challenge Hattle. He could see the
arena was fairly separated with away supporters and home
supporters, chanting on the two fighters.

Just then,
the announcer finally opened an introduction for him.

‘
Please put
your hands together for our fighting champ, The-Uppercut-Kid!
Hattle Lewis!’

Hattle jogged
the aisle to the cheers and jeers of the crowd. He wore a silk
hooded black boxing coat, eyes beset on the platform, fists
pounding together like he was trying to spark two huge boulders of
flint. Stepping gracefully between the ropes, Hattle threw up his
arms and made a quick dramatic introduction, shadow boxing and
spinning out mid-air round house kicks. Hattle smiled around his
gum-shield, and began masticating lightly on the waxy material as
he raised his fists back to the air to reaffirm his ignoble
entrance.

Kyo watched
through the bobbing cheering heads beside Pania who called to Kyo
through the racket, leaning to his ear.

‘
Is that
him?’ she asked. ‘Is that the same guy?’

‘
Yeah,’ Kyo
nodded, ‘that’s him!’

‘
What
happened to his face?’

‘
He looked
like that when I saw him,’ Kyo shouted back. ‘He must fight a
lot.’

Suddenly,
Edge Fenris shouted amongst the myriad chanting observers who sang
and howled in a glossolalia of encouragements; he turned to look
down at Kyo, patting his shoulder hard and screaming with a toothy
smile. ‘SMASH HIS FACE!’ He called. Kyo tried to quell his
reproachful feelings, but Edge encouraged him to shout.

‘
SOMEBODY HAS
TO FALL!’ He chanted, ‘IS IT GUNNA BE YOU CARROT TOP?’

Pania rolled
her eyes at Edge as he jumped up and down, loudly lampooning the
fighter’s entrance.

‘
And now our
away fighter,’ said the announcer, ‘the Raw Dog from the urban
swallows of barren lands, where the wind blows like hot ice, please
welcome, Vadim, Raw-Dog.’

A procession
of young woman strutted down one of the entrance isles between the
seating rows. Revealing and skimpy, dressed in sequin mini-skirts
and breast supports badged with the team’s insignia, they spun and
marched. The dance was rapid, fast to the beat of heavily
percussive music. And a fire breather cartwheeled at the back and
let out a long venting breath of flames. Hattle was warming his
calves, jumping up and down lightly, laughing at the spectacle.
Finally, his Russianomai opponent walked down his aisle towards the
ring and saddled over the ropes, resting one of his enormous gloves
on the turnbuckle. He wasn’t boastful or charismatic, nor was he as
light on his feet; rather he was calculating, saturnine and
enigmatic. He’d let the dancers do the rest. Hattle bounced around
the ring on his tip-toes, shadow boxing to warm up, skin glistening
with a film of moisture, as though silver filings had poured from
the rooftops. The Russianomai was large for his age, only
seventeen, a year younger than Hattle, yet he was slightly bigger
with more defined muscles. He had a short Mohawk shaved haircut,
his nose thick, leading down like a brick wall from his big
forehead. The guy must have taken part in many street fights,
Hattle thought gleefully. And as two of the women removed his
hooded robe, the Raw Dog stepped up to Hattle.

‘
Where the
wind blows like hot ice?’ Edge said to Kyo, ‘who wrote that crappy
zinger?’

‘
Yeah but you
gotta hand it to him,’ said Kyo, ‘that was a heck of an
entrance.’

Vilen Krupin
spoke into the boy’s ear as the fighters touched gloves and found
their corners. Krupin was a paunch man who wore a dark red sport
shirt with black and green segment design features combined into
it, and he had a black Cashmere jacket and dark grey denim jeans.
Krupin was shaven almost bald save the millimetre whiskers of hair
that darkened his skin around the sides of his head. His face was
dour, unpleasant, smiling only to show off his gold tooth or, when
he was wearing them, his silver dental grills. The boy nodded along
to the coach, hanging on his every word. Hattle taunted the
Russianomai with winks and smiles and scornful laughter. The
Russianomai was staid, determinant, and vengeful. When the fight
began the crowd roared as the two fighters circled each other,
vultures around an unseen pray and cautious to take the first
swipe. The Russianomai was steady; his technique was forward with
well planted feet always firmly on the ground, firmly to his centre
of balance, while Hattle hopped around lightly. The Russianomai
jabbed and struck Hattle hard on the brow. Hattle made distance and
side-sprung. The Russianomai jabbed again, feinting before quickly
landing a hook to Hattle’s cheek. The Russianomai‘s points were
starting to elevate as he caught Hattle’s ribs with a sharp
undercut. Hattle’s fighter suit displayed a fracture for the
audience to recognise. They shouted with zeal, they roared in extol
for blood. And both Pania and Edge were ecstatic.