Asterion Noir: The Complete Collection (Amaranthe Collections Book 4)

by G. S. Jennsen

  “They’d best believe you.” He kissed her, soft and slow and deliciously, until the walls of the ship faded away and she forgot where she was….

  “Do you want to hear what I learned, what I didn’t, and what our next mystery to chase involves?”

  She blinked and drew back, certain her cheeks were flushed. “Absolutely. Tell me while I shower? I got Taiyok blood on me, and it’s making my skin itch.”

  4

  * * *

  MIRAI

  Asterion Dominion Axis World

  “THIS IS NOT A RAID. This is not a surprise inspection. Our purpose here is to conduct a mandatory product safety recall for the Ridani Enterprises Model Vk 3.2 limb augment. Turn over your supply of said augment, and we will be on our way.”

  “What about compensation? The augments didn’t come free.”

  Spencer Nimoet didn’t have a good answer for the question, but he did have a practiced one. “Keep your records up-to-date, and someone from the Industry Division will be in touch regarding the refund process.” Eventually. Possibly.

  The man standing behind the counter nodded tersely, for the moment accepting the vague assurance. Shady looking character, but who wasn’t here in the bowels of the Southern Market?

  Spencer motioned the two dynes who accompanied him inside. Each one carried a large container, both of which were already three-quarters full of confiscated limb augment retail boxes. This was their last stop in the area, granted, but the number of units they’d collected gave him pause.

  He wasn’t given to dramaticism or hyperbole, but by his way of thinking, each one represented a life saved. They still had a lot more work to do on that front, but the scope of the crisis seemed to become more manageable with every filled container.

  The dynes watched over the shop owner’s work of collecting his stock of augments while Spencer stepped outside. Across the intersection, Advisor Weiss had finally arrived, though he stood motionless on the sidewalk wearing a perturbed expression.

  Spencer remained uncertain about Weiss taking him into his confidence and enlisting his help in defying the Guides over the augments. Not uncertain about defying the Guides—his moderate pro-NOIR views had taken a hard veer toward rebellion on learning of the virutox and the Guides’ apparent role in creating it. But Adlai Weiss was the most upstanding, law-abiding, rules-following individual Spencer had ever met. For him to suddenly announce, even solely to Spencer, that he intended to openly disobey the Guides’ wishes didn’t square with the picture of the man he’d long held.

  Then again, it was the right thing to do, and possibly that mattered more to his boss than rules and regulations.

  He checked on the shop owner’s progress then crossed the street and approached Weiss. “We’re almost finished here. We’ll be bringing in more than three hundred augments.”

  “Good….” Weiss muttered vaguely.

  “Sir, is there a problem? A new one, I mean?”

  “I can’t decide. Have you seen the public nex overlay here?”

  “Oh. Yes, sir.”

  “The message is posted outside nearly every market and club. Not only on Mirai either. On every Axis World, and it’s starting to show up on the Adjunct ones as well.”

  Spencer held back a chuckle and accessed the overlay again.

  TRUST NO AUGMENT.

  TRUST NO ROUTINE.

  TRUST NO DOSE.

  TRUST NO AGENT OF THE GOVERNMENT.

  A JUSTICE CONVICTION MEANS FINAL DEATH.

  KEEP YOUR PSYCHE. KEEP YOUR FREEDOM.

  — Your Friends In NOIR

  Weiss threw his hands in the air in an exaggerated display of frustration. “How is it even there? I had techs at the Justice Center access the public nex overlay infrastructure, and according to them they can’t delete it, because it’s not there. Yet plainly it is.”

  Spencer chose his words carefully. “It’s not a surprise that NOIR can get around official firewalls. But, honestly, sir, do we want to get rid of it? The more people who are forewarned and don’t install the augment because of it, the easier the clean-up is for us. The more people who are saved.”

  “You’re right. I know you’re right. But what is this ‘a Justice conviction means final death’ nonsense? We’re not storing people, no matter how severe a crime they committed.”

  Spencer didn’t have a good response, which appeared to be the theme for the day. NOIR didn’t make a habit of spreading false claims, as to do so would inevitably ruin their reputation and credibility. While he and Weiss only knew of the one virutox so far, the first three statements in the warning were good advice based on verified facts, and given the Guides’ involvement he was reluctant to dispute the fourth. Thus, the obvious conclusion to draw was that NOIR had good reason to believe a Justice conviction did mean final death.

  The thought churned his stomach, and his gaze flitted to the horizon, searching for a metaphorical shadow encroaching across the landscape. But it was already dark.

  He didn’t engage in regular correspondence with his associates in NOIR, but he should reach out and maybe find out what this was about. For now, he offered Weiss a weak shrug. “It’s probably a misunderstanding on NOIR’s part, or them erring on the side of caution, given recent events.”

  “Well, we need to correct the misunderstanding. It’s counterproductive for them to smear us when we’re trying to help.” Weiss sighed. “Anyway, I’m sorry I was late and left you to do all the work. I was delayed at the transit station.”

  “No trouble, I hope?”

  “There was a glitch in the security check is all. Let’s get these confiscated augments to Disposal straight away. They can’t infect anyone if they’re a pile of dust.”

  Adlai had deliberately glossed over the reason for his delayed arrival at the Southern Market to Spencer. In truth, he’d been officially detained at the transit station then forced to provide extraordinary evidence that he was who he claimed to be.

  Someone purporting to be him—correct ID signature and all—had cleared a private security scan on Ebisu less than ten minutes earlier, and when he’d done the same on Mirai, the system had flagged him as suspicious.

  A number of people might want to impersonate him for one reason or another, but only a few had the knowledge of his personal details needed to do so, and of them only one had access to the tools required to accomplish it. Tools someone like, say, the head of NOIR possessed.

  What could Dashiel possibly have been doing on Ebisu visiting Briscanti Materials? It made no sense, but the things Adlai didn’t know spread out in a vast sea before him. Mysteries built upon enigmas. He didn’t care for it one bit.

  He would have to do his best to knock them down one at a time. So as he walked to the Justice Center, letting the chilly night air keep him alert, he sent a ping.

  Stop impersonating me.

  The reply took a few minutes. He wasn’t ready to go back to the office yet, so when he reached the Justice Center, he circled the block instead.

  I’d deny it, but it doesn’t matter. Are you the one who called in security to try to catch me? Are you coming after me, too?

  No, and no. I’m not coming after either of you.

  A slight pause.

  Either of us? I don’t understand what you mean.

  Dashiel, how long have I known you?

  Twenty-four hundred years, give or take a few decades.

  Exactly. You may have fooled me for a few minutes in the thick of a stressful situation at Mirai Tower, but I’m not stupid, nor am I blind.

  No, you’re not. So…how ‘not coming after either of us’ are you?

  If you must know, I’m trying to help.

  I don’t believe you. You said you were helping Nika, and we saw how that turned out.

  Adlai fought against growing frustration. It wasn’t as if he’d expected this conversation, whenever it happened, to go any more smoothly than it currently was, but met expectations didn’t make it any easier to navigate.

/>   I’m sorry about what happened, but I didn’t have all the facts, and I had to make a call.

  The wrong one.

  Yes. But it didn’t stop her from escaping, so cut me a break?

  Tell me something, and I’ll consider it. Was Iona Rowan infected with the virutox when she shot up a conference room at the Chosek Embassy?

  The Guides had put an embargo on the details of the massacre, releasing a minimal public statement that an unfortunate ‘incident’ had resulted in injuries to Advisor Rowan and several business executives and the deaths of three Chizeru envoys. Yet, somehow, Dashiel had managed to find out what happened almost immediately. While being on the run.

  He and Nika always had made quite a pair.

  A brisk wind smacked Adlai in the face when he rounded the street corner, and he hugged his jacket tighter around him. To share the rest of the details was arguably a violation of the Guides’ embargo. But that was what he did now, wasn’t it?

  She was.

  Why did she even have the limb augment? She’s not the type to go in for gadgets.

  She didn’t have it installed. The virutox is communicable.

  Another pause.

  How communicable?

  Not very, thank the stars. It requires an extensive neural interaction to jump to another person. But when spread in this manner, the virutox mutates in unpredictable ways. Such as turning Iona homicidal.

  Tell me you’re putting a stop to this.

  I’m working on it. Which would be a lot easier if I had some idea what’s really going on.

  Makes three of us.

  Is she okay? Nika?

  Do you care?

  Dammit, Dashiel. Of course I care. I’m staking my career and possibly my psyche on the theory that she’s right about the Guides. I’m sorry I couldn’t make the choice earlier, at Mirai Tower, but I’ve made it now.

  The reply took so long to arrive that he started to think his friend had ditched the conversation.

  I’m still not sure if I believe you. But, yes, she’s fine. Righteously pissed, which should not be a surprise.

  What can you tell me?

  Just get the damn augments off the streets. Develop a vaccine to protect against future infection. And stop sending people to Zaidam—for any reason or any crime.

  What? I can’t overturn every sentence.

  Forget the sentences for now. Stop the transports to Zaidam. The people being sent there aren’t staying there. We don’t know where they’re being taken, but wherever it is, in eight years no one’s come back.

  Adlai sank against the Justice Center façade and dragged his hands down his face. This was what ‘a Justice conviction means final death’ referred to, wasn’t it? It was still a big assumption to make…but not an entirely unjustified one.

  Dashiel, I don’t have that kind of power. I’m confiscating the augments as fast as I can, in defiance of the express instructions of the Guides, but at least if I’m called out for it I can fall back on the Charter for support. If I start blocking convicts from going to Zaidam, I’ll be out of a job by dawn.

  The Guides explicitly told you not to confiscate the augments? Godsdamn they are cold. Look, the virutox’s purpose is to increase the flow of prisoners to Zaidam, so they can increase the flow of people to gods fear where. It’s all connected.

  The investigative algorithms in Adlai’s brain stirred to attention.

  Connected to what?

  We will find out, but we need you to buy us time by cutting off the flow of victims. Do what you can.

  I’ll try.

  One more thing. Run a search on the name ‘Vivian Santosa.’ Allegedly, she works for Industry Conceptual Research, but I’ve never heard of her.

  I’ll see what I can find out.

  The entrance to the Justice Center loomed ahead of Adlai once more, and walking through it had never felt so daunting.

  But he was the boss, for tonight if not tomorrow, and it was his responsibility to protect innocent people, so he squared his shoulders and lifted his chin and strode forward—

  —a hand landed on the door frame, the arm it belonged to blocking his progress. “Where are they?”

  His fingers had found his Glaser and were removing it from its holster when he realized the hand and arm belonged to Maris Debray. He exhaled and pivoted to face her. “It’s nice to see you as well, Maris. Where are who?”

  “Don’t act ignorant, Adlai. It doesn’t suit you. Dashiel and Nika, obviously.”

  He chuckled to himself at the recognition he’d just used almost the exact same phrasing to Dashiel. “He told you about her, then?”

  “Only under threat of my own special brand of torture paired with the not-terribly-subtle suggestion of blackmail. He also promised I could see her, but now he’s gone, which I can safely assume means she’s gone as well. This will not do.”

  Events were moving so rapidly, Adlai couldn’t be sure precisely how much Maris knew—he wasn’t even sure how much he knew. “I don’t like it either, but truth be told, running was her only viable option. As for him? He’s Dashiel. He wasn’t going to let her slip away again.”

  Maris studied him like he was a painting fit only for critique. “Why was running her only viable option?”

  These games were getting exhausting. “How much did he tell you?”

  “Clearly not enough.”

  “Are you certain you want to know? Once you do, there’s no coming back from it. Everything will change for you.”

  “I’m not afraid of change, my dear. No artist is. Tell me.”

  “All right, but when you regret this later, remember I did warn you.” He glanced briefly at the waiting Justice Center entrance before taking her hand and heading in the opposite direction. “Let’s go get a drink.”

  5

  * * *

  MIRAI

  THE FORENSICS LAB had a deceptively peaceful feel to it so early in the morning, as if the insanity waiting on the other side of the door would never be allowed in. Adlai was starting to see why Erik Rhom hardly ever left the lab.

  It had been a late night with Maris, who had finally left him in a tizzy of fiery outrage at around two this morning, so he’d take whatever snippets of peace he could find. The next few minutes weren’t going to qualify, however.

  He activated the recording system then nodded at Erik. “Okay, turn it on.”

  On the display pane, letters flickered to life.

  Where am I?

  “First, identify yourself for the record.”

  What record?

  “We’ll get to that. Please identify yourself.”

  Fine. Iona Rowan, External Relations Advisor, 7th Generation.

  “Thank you. This is Advisor Adlai Weiss of the Justice Division speaking to you. Erik Rhom, a Justice Division analyst, is also present in the room. Advisor Rowan, your most recent psyche backup has been awoken in a virtual environment so you can answer questions regarding your activities over the course of the last two weeks.”

  Ah, fuck. What did I do?

  The active backup had been created the morning of the Chosek Embassy massacre, so she would have no recollection of those events. “To be blunt, Advisor, you murdered three Chizeru, including a clan leader, and inflicted total body loss on three executives from Zanist Circuitry as well as yourself.”

  Damn. I guess breakfast didn’t agree with me.

  Erik arched an eyebrow, but Adlai shrugged. They knew the virutox transformed an individual’s personality, as well as destroyed higher-order judgment capabilities and all but erased emotions such as guilt or remorse. Still, hearing it in action was undeniably disturbing.

  “You were infected with a destructive virutox at some point in the previous two-week period. This psyche backup remains infected, which is why you’ve been limited to a virtual environment.

  “The virutox originates from a limb augment installed in the forearm. You didn’t install such an augment, which means you interacted on a neural level with s
omeone who did, or possibly someone who acquired the virutox themselves by doing so.” He and Erik hadn’t discussed the possibility of second-level infectious spread, but from what he understood about the virutox, there was no reason to rule it out. “Does any recent interaction come to mind that fits these criteria?”

  Silence answered him.

  “Advisor Rowan?”

  I might have participated in a Disuta competition earlier in the week. Tuesday night.

  It was good she couldn’t see Adlai’s expression, as the revulsion churning his stomach likely made it to his face as well. To let a stranger take over your mind…did she have no self-respect? No appreciation for the treasure her psyche represented?

  Beside him, Erik acted enthused. “This sets a minimum transferability threshold for us. If it turns out to require that deep of an interaction, it’s good news. Relatively speaking, I mean. Disuta matches are pretty rare, so it should keep the spread contained.”

  He supposed it did count as good news. Maybe. “I need the names of the other people who participated in the competition on the night in question.”

  You’ve never played Disuta, have you?

  He kept his tone neutral. “I have not.”

  Anonymity is one of its core precepts. No names, no professions, no life histories beforehand. But we did go out for drinks after, and a few details slipped from loosened tongues. I’m fairly certain the person who created my challenge was a man named Tristan McLeros. A factory technician from Synra.

  “Thank you, Advisor. This information is enormously helpful.”

  Fabulous. Now, when do I get regened? This virtual stockade is as boring as…boring things.

  “The crime you committed is an extremely serious one. The fact that you did so while under the influence of a virutox is a mitigating factor, but the Chosek government is demanding harsh punishment for the murder of its citizens. Zanist Circuitry has also submitted a sizeable recompense bill on behalf of its executives. Therefore, the nature and extent of your sentence is still being negotiated. Needless to say, when you are regened, an earlier psyche backup free of infection will be used.”