Paul Hardy - The Last Man on Earth Club

As it halted, a baggage compartment at the back popped open and a masked figure in black rolled away. The driver would find the opened compartment a minute later and wonder how he’d managed to leave it open after a supply pickup in the outskirts of Hub Metro. But by then the stowaway was making a perfectly timed run to the main building as sensors switched themselves off along her path. She leapt two stories up to catch a newly opened window with one hand, and then swung herself inside, entering an unused room in the shuttered part of the centre.

A door opened for her and she snuck away down the hall towards the staircase leading to the residential corridors two floors below. She paused on the stairwell and leapt to the ceiling, clinging to a centimetre of foothold while Veofol walked below her. Once he had gone, she slipped silently down to the floor and continued on.

She went straight to the corridor that housed the personal rooms of the residents, one of which opened despite her failure to use the fingerprint, voiceprint or numeric locks. She stepped inside, said “Lights on,” and pulled the mask from her face.

That’s when Liss got a nasty shock. Her room was gone. All the pink, fluffy and girly fittings were removed. All that was left was an empty, unformed grey shell. She turned to see the one object left behind — clamped into the wall, squat and functional, was a SAR launcher. SAR stands for Semi-Aerosolised Restraint. She had time to mutter “shit!” before it fired a cloud of adhesive droplets at her, binding her in a sticky mesh. She struggled and tried to jump, ending glued halfway up a wall, progressively constrained as she fought against the SAR polymers.

Once she’d stopped struggling, security guards felt safe enough to enter and point weapons at her. Lomeva Sisse, the security manager, took special pleasure in her capture; the final touch of the empty room had been her idea, and avoided the possibility of physical confrontation and serious injury. She proclaimed the situation safe once her officers had made sure Liss could still breathe, then allowed me to enter.

I could see her black clothes were actually stolen from Iokan — the black poloneck, the combat trousers, all adjusted to fit her. I thought she’d only been using her sewing kit to attach pink bobbles to everything she wore. But instead she’d been preparing for this all along.

She glared down at me, still squirming enough to keep the mesh tightening around her. “Just relax, Liss,” I said. “It’s over. Security are going to take you away for an interview in Hub Metro. That’s out of my hands. Is there anything you’d like to tell me before you go?”

“My name is Liss Li’Oul. Reservist. Paranormal Response Group. Identity number 1656710. I’m not telling you another damn thing.”

“Liss… we didn’t destroy your world. We want to help you. Surely after all the time you’ve been here, you understand that?”

She just scowled at me. She was determined to play the part of a prisoner of war. I tried something else: “We want to find out who killed your species as much as you do.”

“And what would you do about it? Let them off with a fine? Smack them on the wrist? Take away their fucking toys? ”

I sighed. “We’ll talk again, Liss.” I looked at Lomeva. “You can take her away now.”

They came in with tranquillisers and restraints and took her away to security headquarters in Hub Metro.

The next morning, I was summoned to an emergency meeting of the Special Counselling Groups Committee, representing everyone who had an interest in my group, none of whom were likely to be happy with me.

I sat down in the remote conference room, and around the circular table, images of the committee members glowed into life. Henni Ardassian, head of the Refugee Service, sat opposite me, with the other members scattered around the table.

“Is that everyone?” asked Henni, looking around. “Is there anyone else from Diplomatic?”

A man spoke up. “Ms. Isnia is already in another meeting. She asked me to sit in. I’m Emmet Wlasky, in charge of operations.”

“I’m very surprised she wasn’t able to attend herself.” Baheera om-challha Isnia was deputy head of the Diplomatic Service. It was her memo about the discovery of Iokan that had led to the creation of this committee, and eventually the therapy group. The politics of it all wasn’t supposed to affect me, but Liss’s escape might well end that.

“It was rather short notice. We still have an ongoing situation elsewhere…”

“We all do, Mr. Wlasky. Please ask her to call me after the meeting. So. Dr. Singh.” She looked at me. “We’ve all read the report. The members of the committee doubtless have some questions for you.”

Koggan BanOrishel, the man from Hub Security, jumped in first. “I want to know why a member of the public is sitting in my cells, beaten half to death.”

“I do regret that,” I said. “But we were aiming to reduce the risk as far as possible. I believe if we’d confronted Liss directly, she might have fled and caused a good deal more injuries. Or worse.”

Koggan counted my misdeeds on his fingers. “You could have searched their rooms. You could have questioned them at the centre. But instead — and I’m quoting here — you ‘elected to wait for another escape attempt.’ You waited until someone got hurt, and then you took action.”

“We did everything we could to minimise the risk.”

“And yet you yourself were still injured.”

Koggan indicated my arm. The bruises from Olivia’s attack were almost gone, but the medical staff insisted I keep it immobile for another day. “That’s an unrelated incident. Another member of the group attacked me. A hazard of the job, I’m afraid.”

Koggan barely paused, despite his misstep. “But you didn’t think about the risk to Hub Metro, did you? We weren’t informed. In fact, you didn’t tell anyone. Not even this committee.”

“And what would have happened if she had told us?” This was Mykl Teoth, who headed the counselling section of the Refugee Service — my boss. “We’d have been forced to take action. We’d have had the centre turned upside down, and then we might have had an entirely unknown quantity on the run with who knows what risk. She didn’t even know which one of them it was. Can you imagine what it would have been like to have the cyborg on the run? An admitted killing machine?”

“You’re talking about might-have-beens—”

“Colleagues, we’re not here for recriminations,” said Henni. “We’re here to discuss how to respond to the new situation. I understand Ms. Li’Oul is now in custody?”

“That’s right,” said Koggan.

“Regarding Mr. Dorje, the man who was assaulted: is he pressing charges?”

Koggan replied: “He doesn’t have to. It’s a criminal matter.”

“But he himself has admitted to criminal acts?”

“Which is irrelevant. Assault is still assault.”

“So Ms. Li’Oul will face criminal charges?”

“I can’t comment on that until the prosecutors have looked at the case.”

“We’ll have to see how that progresses. What about the device?”

“Definitely illegal but safely contained.”

“I mean, how was something like this from such an undeveloped world even able to exist here?”

“We’re not entirely sure. Of course, we’re not in charge of security procedures in Quarantine…”

“The technology situation on Liss’s world is rather unusual,” I said. “If you take a look at the background document, you’ll see they often developed artefacts far in advance of what might be expected. I don’t think Hub Security can be held responsible.” Koggan gave me a confused look. He hadn’t expected support from me.