Free Toxicity by Andy Remic

clear?”
     
    “Clear.”
     
    “Clear.”
     
    “Clear, girlfriend.”
     
    Jenny gave a tight dry smile. “Let’s
move.”
     
    They ran through the darkness in
crouches, boots churning mud and long grass. The Plant was surrounded by a high
spiked fence. Dropping at the base, Jenny pulled out an ECube and activated the
laser, which cut through five bars in as many seconds. Smoke drifted from the
glowing steel, and they crawled through the narrow gap and silently split up,
Jenny and Sick Note to one corner of the Reprocessing Plant, Randy and Flizz to
another. They would work their way around, covertly placing charges, then meet
back at this hole in the fence to co-ordinate with Zanzibar for the
simultaneous detonation.
     
    Jenny ran, and a million emotions
pumped through her like a narcotic. Fear was there, of course, harnessed and
used to keep her on edge. Joy was also a factor, mingled in with exultation at
what they were about to do; not just a thorn in Greenstar’s side, they were a
vicious multi-pronged spike right up its arse. They would make Quad-Gal’s
governments sit up and take note. They would force a change. The people
on the planet of Toxicity had had enough of the lies, enough of the political
bullshit, enough of the poison. They wanted their world back, and the Impurity
Movement were there to give the people what they so desired.
     
    Jenny crouched by a corner, and
Sick Note was close, his unhealthy, pock-marked face pale in the gloom. This
was the one time you’d find him without a cigarette and a bottle of whiskey.
The one and only time you’d find him focused, and realise his underrated
professionalism.
     
    “We good?”
     
    “Yeah.”
     
    They drew silenced Sig72 pistols
and moved towards a blank metal door, checking behind them, then towards the
perimeter sirens and emergency lights they knew were awaiting them. They’d seen
the wiring diagrams.
     
    “Can you talk?” came Zanzibar
over the net.
     
    “Yes. Be quick.”
     
    “There’s something wrong.”
     
    A cool chill blew over Jenny’s
soul.
     
    “What is it?”
     
    “I’m not sure.” Zanzibar’s voice
was low, slow, controlled, but something had twitched him. Jenny cursed. “Let’s
call it a hunch. Some tiny element is out of place. Out of alignment. I feel
like we’re being watched. Set up. How is it there?”
     
    “All good,” said Jenny. “Go with
your instincts, Zanz. If you want to withdraw, withdraw. Even one hit on this
shit-hole will send a middle-finger message to the bastards at Greenstar. We
don’t need the double-det.” But inside, she was seething. Cold and annoyed.
They both knew the double detonation would have a much larger impact.
     
    “No. I’m good, Jen. Jumping at
shadows. Will keep you updated.”
     
    “Good lad.”
     
    Jenny signalled Sick Note, who
took out the lock using a tiny sliver of what looked like silver, but was in
fact a controllable fluid pick. It took him half a minute, and then he opened
the blank metal door and they slid inside.
     
    They were in.
     
    ~ * ~
     
    A
COOL DARKNESS greeted Jenny, along with an undercurrent of stench that made her
flinch. Living on the planet of Toxicity, the constant aroma of rotting crap
was ever-present. For all who lived there, all those who called it home,
olfactory senses became eventually dulled, and from childhood to adulthood, as
Greenstar gradually wasted the planet of her kin, Jenny had come to see this
gradual stripping of her senses as a sensory theft. Olfactory rape and murder.
Another reason to curse Greenstar. Another reason to hate The Company.
     
    But this. This was real
bad.
     
    Even Sick Note coughed, grip
tightening on his Sig72.
     
    Jenny signalled, and they moved
down a narrow corridor. Through the walls, the thumping and grinding was louder
now; more harsh. Like bricks in a grinder. It set Jen’s teeth on edge, like a
steel claw being dragged across a blackboard, and she fought to control
herself. Focus. Job