Redemption Protocol (Contact) by Mike Freeman Page A

Darkwood was clearly privy to information that Havoc was not. He wondered whether he should reveal his ignorance. Why change the habit of a lifetime?
    “Is that unusual?”
    Darkwood clapped his hands in delight.
    “Ha! Dear John, you have no idea.”
    Havoc looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumbs over his fingertips. His skin felt a little different . He gently squeezed his thumb and fingertips together. He tried to get a sense of what he was feeling but he couldn't place it. It was natural, perhaps, that he felt a bit odd after his death.
    He would have to stop calling it that.
    “So did I die?”
    Darkwood nodded.
    “You were clinically dead for twenty six hours plus the time you were frozen. If the Morvent Academy had not got involved you would not be here.”
    “And Pertinax?”
    “He claimed you immediately.”
    “My routing?”
    “You were routed from the Morvent Academy directly to dock. You must have noticed you were in a Morvent Academy transporter on revival. It caused no small amount of controversy as I’m sure you can imagine.”
    “Did they break me out for inspection?”
    Darkwood shook his head.
    “They did not.”
    “My identity?”
    “I cannot vouch for their private intelligence but publicly your identity was, how shall I say, accidentally obfuscated.”
    “They found out on arrival?”
    “Indeed.”
    Havoc raised an eyebrow at that.
    “My equipment?”
    “At the Morvent Academy’s request, your agent on Breggalia forwarded five containers that arrived with you. It's stored in disc five with the security package. It's not been opened although let me say it's been heavily scanned and leaving it at that took an almost inhuman level of diplomatic wrangling. Ultimately though, it is my ship.”
    “Where do I fit into the team?”
    “I think it’s best to leave that to Tyburn. 'Respect the line' is the expression, I believe.”
    Havoc mulled it over.
    Darkwood was the kind of guy that could fade into the background if you weren't watching. Darkwood's agenda sounded genuine, but Darkwood choosing him was an odd choice to make. It was almost guaranteed to antagonize the Alliance. Maybe that was the point?
    “And my return?”
    Havoc’s implied question being, of course, how do you make sure I'm not defrosted with a noose around my neck?
    Darkwood nodded.
    “Don’t worry. We have all the dispensations in place for your arrival back in Hspace.”
    Havoc didn’t even need to try to imagine the million things that could go wrong with that. The Alliance may not have known it was him when they shipped his Morvent Academy pod through Alliance space the first time. They certainly would on his return. Assuming he returned, of course.
    Darkwood stood up.
    “So there we have it. Do you mind if I...?”
    “No, no, of course.”
    “Besides which I think you’re due elsewhere, aren’t you?”
    Tennis .
    Havoc hustled to the training hab.

 16. 
     
     
     
     
    Havoc entered Sim Two of the training hab.
    He stood at the bottom of a tall cylinder, on top of an eight meter wide disc that was covered in advanced fabric. The fabric could move over the disc like that of a running machine but in any direction. The disc could also tilt, rotate and move up and down the cylinder – although Havoc assumed that wouldn’t be necessary for a tennis match; at least, he hoped not.
    Weaver had paired two sims together to provide the opposite sides of a tennis court. Rather than specify visual overlays, Weaver had used the sim’s holo field to project the court onto the sim itself, from the racket over the simulator wand in Havoc’s hand to the stadium packed with virtual spectators that surrounded him. Havoc could just imagine Weaver’s mischievous grin as she dialed that one in. Talking of which, a door opened in the middle of the royal box and out stepped Weaver.
    Havoc did a double take. 'Baggy shorts' Weaver was wearing a crop top and a white plaid miniskirt that ended high on her slim thighs. The