Project Starfighter by Stephen J Sweeney Read Free Book Online Page B

something more
useful in here.”
    But Chris was reluctant. “I’m
going to hang on to it. It might come in handy, even if we don’t
use it ourselves.” He folded the suit neatly, ready to take along
with them, then continued to search the wardrobes.
    “Bingo,” Chris announced, having
pulled a case out and opened it.
    “What’s that, then?”
    “The most important part of our
disguise,” Chris said, pulling out wigs, fake noses, and contact
lenses. “Wow, your neighbour certainly missed her calling as a
pantomime actress, didn’t she?” he added, finding beards, skull
caps, and other body-shape-altering items in the case.
    “Do we really have time for all
this?” Sid asked. “Drones could arrive at any moment.”
    “I think we've got about an hour,”
Chris said. “If her true identity isn’t on file, then perhaps a
bit longer. I doubt the drones will recognise her straight off, so
won’t be coming to search her flat immediately.”
    “Okay,” Sid said, putting the ID
cards aside and picking up a set of fake coloured contact lenses.
“Let’s get started.”

    ~

    They
left just over an hour later, well-disguised with beards, fake noses,
and coloured contact lenses. Chris had disposed of his Resistance
uniform and Sid’s gun under a loose floorboard he had discovered in
the dead woman’s flat. This hiding place had also revealed a case
full of money. A few thousand, in both paper and credit chips.
Emergency cash, no doubt. Chris had pocketed the lot.
    Though, briefly, Chris felt bad, he
reminded himself that this woman had been quite willing to turn Sid
in for the reward, without caring what happened to him. Thankfully,
no one else seemed to have come looking for Sid since the two had
left his flat. Rain came on and Chris hoped that his and Sid’s
disguises were waterproof. The city was as busy as it had been when
he had arrived earlier, perhaps even more so. The square the two men
presently crossed would likely fill up even more later on. Many of
the bars and clubs did not open their doors until late at night, and
so a good number of the revellers – those that could afford it at
any rate – did not venture out until close to midnight.
    “Flag down a taxi as soon as you
see one,” Chris said, hobbling along as quickly as he could. “This
stuff could start to wash off if we’re out in the rain too long.”
    “Calling a taxi would be quicker,”
Sid suggested, taking his phone out and starting to dial.
    “And remember, if we’re stopped
by a drone, don’t talk; just act like we’ve lost our voices, got
it?”
    “Excuse me, gentlemen, may I have
a word, please?” The voice, polite but robotic in nature, came from
behind Chris before Sid could answer. Chris tried not to panic as he
wondered just how long the drone had been following them.
    He turned around to meet it, keeping
his expression as deadpan as possible, something that wasn’t all
that easy to do when confronted with the very thing you were
attempting to avoid. Harder still when you realised it was the exact
same one that had shot you off the road earlier that day.
‘XS-0017811’ read the identifier along the top, the words
‘Wade-Ellen Asset Protection Corporation’ written just beneath.
Chris swallowed hard, but said nothing.
    With both men facing it, a series of
red and yellow lights began twinkling on the drone’s body. It was
scanning them, attempting to determine their identities. Chris felt
his heart rate increase, his brow become wet, sweat mingling in with
the rain. If this thing became even slightly suspicious of their
disguises, there was no way either of them were going to escape. He
only hoped it wasn’t sophisticated enough to read into a person’s
display of nerves.
    “Good evening, Mr Jenson, Mr
Albright,” the drone then said. “I am currently attempting to
locate the following people ...” A holographic projection of those
it was seeking appeared above its head. “If you know of their
whereabouts, I