James Swallow: Fallen Angel

From the cockpit, Evelyn gave a yelp of success and the Osprey rocked as she applied more power to the props. The aircraft’s engines howled and the fuselage creaked under the tension, but Faridah could immediately sense the shift in attitude and she knew that her friend had arrested their deadly descent.

Relief came over her in a wave and she let out the breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Faridah started back toward the front of the aircraft, and it was only then she noticed how cold it was in the cargo bay.

The containers were radiating a meat locker chill, and from one of them came a spill of white vapor and the sharp tang of cryogenic chemicals. The capsule’s lid was cracked open a few centimeters, doubtless jarred by the same tremor through the hull that had unseated Khan. Faridah went closer and saw that the curve of the cylinder was actually clear plastic, whitened by a layer of frost. And inside

Inside was a man. A pale and lined patrician face, framed with shoulder-length grey hair. His expression was not one of a sleeper’s repose, but of apprehension frozen in a single moment. Faridah reached for the container.

“What are you doing in here?” Khan was on his feet, one hand pressed to his head to staunch the wound there, the other holding on to a hull brace. “Step away.” The mercenary hove closer, his broad shoulders and towering build filling the compartment with a ready threat.

“Right,” said Faridah, “Yeah.” She moved past him before he could react and slipped back into the cockpit.

Evelyn threw her a weary but triumphant look. “Damn, girl, that was too close…” She trailed off, seeing her

friend’s troubled expression. “Ri, are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Faridah shook her head firmly, falling into the pilot’s chair. “Just… Let’s just get this thing down.”

Evelyn nodded. “Right. Nearest pad is-”

“No.” Khan was in the doorway again. The hard edges of his face were made even uglier by the streaks of

blood from the cut on his forehead. “You land at the destination you were given and nowhere else, understand?”

“In case you weren’t paying attention, we were just struck by lightning,” growled Faridah. “We need to land, anywhere. Now.”

“No,” Kahn repeated, and he let his hand drop to the big Diamondback revolver holstered at his hip, nodding toward the lights of Upper Hengsha. “Do as you were told. Don’t make me say it again.”

***

Trailing a thin streamer of smoke from the starboard engine, the Osprey performed an inelegant touchdown on a wide octagonal landing pad outside a dome-shaped building. Here on the northern edge of upper city, where the government had zoned light engineering works and low-impact industry, there was little air traffic.

The storm, which mercifully had not followed them up the Yangtze beyond the river mouth, had still pushed a front of rain before it. As the aircraft settled, the noise of water off the canopy became a steady drumming.

“Where the hell is this?” said Faridah, scanning the view. “No pad transponder here, no geo-code.” She studied the non-descript dome beyond, looking for anything like an identifier or corporate logo and coming up empty. The place had a clinical appearance to it, like a hospital or a laboratory.

“This district is usually off-limits to commercial traffic,” offered Evelyn. “Government complexes around here, that’s what Lee told me. That and all the top secret research and development centers for the big corporations… Tearglass, Kaiga, Tai Yong, those guys. They keep everything on the down-low for security reasons.”

Faridah nodded, taking that in. She couldn’t stop thinking about the face of the man inside the cryo-capsule. Khan was already out on the pad, supervising the unloading of the containers as box-lifter robots came in to carry the cylinders away in their metal claws.

Evelyn was climbing out of her seat. “I gotta get up on the wing, check where we got burned,” she said, shaking her head. “I mean, if we can’t take off again-”

“Make sure we can,” Faridah told her, as she watched Kahn follow the loaders down a ramp and into a staging area below the landing pad. “I have to look at something…”

She pushed past her friend and made for the crew hatch. Evelyn called out, her expression a mix of confusion and worry. “Faridah! Don’t. Just…don’t get involved. Let’s do this and get back to ArcAir. Whatever Cheng is into, we don’t want to know about it, right?”

Faridah reached for the answer she usually gave, the choice to look the other way and push aside what troubled her; it wasn’t there anymore.

“Just be ready to get airborne,” she told her, slipping out of the aircraft and down toward the ramp.

***

It was easy enough for her to avoid being seen by the slow-moving gaze of the pad’s Big Bro security monitor, and Faridah used racks of storage containers to hide herself as she found a vantage point on the wide concrete ramp. Crouching low, she watched the robots lay down the cryo-containers and retreat. Waiting for Khan was an oriental man in a sharply-tailored business suit and three more of the same kinds of Belltower troopers she had seen at ArcAir. A nervous young woman who appeared to be some kind of medical technician stood nearby.

“Were there any problems?” said the man in the suit, eyeing Khan’s injury. He was clearly an executive of some sort.

“Bumpy flight,” Khan replied. “Shall we get this done? I’m sure our employer doesn’t want to waste her time and mine.”

The suit nodded. “As you say.” He nodded to the woman. “Open them.”

The medic produced a handheld device and tapped out a code on its surface. The four capsules hissed open, releasing gusts of mist into the room. Each of them had a person lying inside, and the woman walked between them, taking readings and administering swift injections. “Intact,” she announced, after a while.

Faridah’s mind filled with questions as the four people in the capsules awakened and rose.

“Where is this?” said one, a portly Asian man.

“Welcome to Hengsha,” said the executive, with a false smile. “And to your new employment!”

The group exchanged anxious glances. “We…we work for Isolay,” said the grey-haired man, the one Faridah

had glimpsed in the cargo bay. “In Lima,” he added.

Isolay was one of the major manufacturers of human augmentation technologies in the western world, and Faridah recalled that they were in bitter competition with several of their Far Eastern rivals in China and Japan. If

these people were here, she doubted it was because they wished it.

The executive was nodding and smiling indulgently, as if he were talking to a child. “You are no longer employees of that company. Your skills were not being valued there. And so, it was decided that you might prefer to bring your expertise to a more… Lucrative workplace. We have taken the liberty of doubling your fees. You will be provided with new accommodation and facilities that far outstrip anything Isolay could offer you.”

Suddenly, it was all clear to her. Faridah was witnessing the tail end of what was known as an ‘enforced contractual transfer’ – a fancy term for kidnapping. The old guy and these other former Isolay employees had probably been stolen off the streets in Lima for their knowledge and abilities, extracted forcibly and brought to their new homes. A brain-drain from one corporation to another, at gunpoint.

Faridah’s jaw stiffened. It sickened her to know that she had been a part of something like this, through ArcAir and the Red Arrow in some kind of unholy alliance with Belltower and whatever corporation had ordered the trafficking of these people. She found herself wondering what other cargoes she had unknowingly carried for the triads, what might have been hidden in the crates and containers that she and Evelyn had never thought to consider. Part of her was ashamed that she had ever looked the other way.