Enlightened Ignorance

by Michael Anderle

  Alina’s smile faded and her face turned grim. “We both know you’re not a random cop, Detective. Most random cops don’t take down so many terrorists and conspiracies by themselves.”

  “I haven’t done it by myself. I’ve had help from others. Jia. Malcolm. Emma.”

  “But you’re the heart of it. The situation wouldn’t have changed without you.” Alina’s smile returned, but it had a vague sinister cast. “Besides, I owe you a birthday present.”

  “A birthday present?” Erik frowned. “My birthday was in March, but I’ve been busy, so it just kind of came and went. What’s your present? Congrats for not dying in my own apartment?”

  Alina leaned forward with an amused gleam in her eyes. “No. I prefer to give people something they want. I borrowed some information during the raids. In and of itself, it’s not particularly useful. In other words, it would be meaningless to people who didn’t already know what they were looking for.”

  Erik’s mouth opened, shut, then opened again. “You were involved in the raids? Why am I not surprised? So, what does this information mean to people who know what they are looking for?”

  “That’s the thing. I, with the help of my associates, could cross-reference it with data from other investigations, particularly those involving Talos.” Alina stood slowly, locking eyes with Erik. “I’m not at liberty to tell you everything, but the current picture we have points to Talos being behind the operational aspects of the Molino massacre. Happy belated birthday.”

  Erik took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you about that, but I didn’t trust you.”

  “Do you trust me now?”

  “Not really.” Erik shook his head. “But I’m starting to.” He frowned and looked to the side. “It sounds from what you’re saying like someone else might also be involved.”

  Alina nodded. She stood and walked away from the couch, her hands folded behind her back. “That’s our current belief, yes. At a minimum, Talos is allied with other organizations. It might even be they are simply the field team for someone far worse.”

  “I’ve found links between a Ceres Galactic-controlled company and Molino. Potentially also Hermes and what happened, and we just got done raiding a Hermes-controlled company. Does this mean Ceres Galactic or Hermes is behind Talos?”

  Alina stopped and faced Erik. “We don’t yet have a complete picture. It’s been hard to get information even on Talos. Whether they are the ultimate conspiracy, or someone else is pulling their strings, our enemy is surprisingly patient, well-prepared, and resourceful. We know they have assets inside all the major directorates.”

  “Including ID?” Erik asked.

  Alina nodded. “Some. Fortunately, our policy to compartmentalize information has limited the damage. You’ve seen the harm a few corrupt cops and CID agents can cause. Although we don’t have proof, we believe that many of the high-level incidents that have afflicted Neo Southern California might have at least been pushed by elements of this conspiracy.”

  “I will ask the obvious,” Emma interrupted. “If you have evidence that these corporations are involved in this dangerous organization, why don’t you take them down directly?”

  Alina snickered. “That’s easy for you to say, AI. It’s a little more complicated. If we just gut Ceres Galactic or Hermes Corporation, we’re potentially crippling the UTC. With the Zitarks sniffing around, we have to be mindful of that. In addition, what the ID has and what we can use in public are two different things. If we had direct evidence, we’d be sending it to the CID so they could go take down the worst elements in the companies. We’re also not sure if they’re just another tool, or if there are bad men beyond the companies. The one thing we do know is that Talos has a lot of resources and advanced equipment, and unless they’ve got a hidden core world all to themselves, they need money. That means there’s a good chance one of the big corps, or at least people affiliated with them, is involved with Talos.”

  Erik took it all in. Having a more specific target at least made him feel like he was making progress.

  “That’s all good to know,” he commented, “but it’s not like Emma’s got a bunch of trackers on Talos agents. Those guys keep their heads down. I don’t know if it does me any good to know about them. If ID can’t find them, how am I supposed to? I still need leads.”

  “Of course. And I should have some actionable leads for you soon, but I need to convince certain superiors that you’re worth taking a risk on. That was part of the reason for today’s test.”

  Erin frowned. “Why not just follow up on them yourself?”

  Alina shook her finger, her mouth curving into a coy smile. “ID agents get bogged down by restrictions, even me, and I’m already considered to be on the border of hellaciously insubordinate. Someone who has a vested interest in investigating this issue and access to a unique prototype AI might be able to achieve more success with fewer restrictions. For the moment, your personal goals and that of the ID are closely aligned. This is what most people would consider a win-win.”

  Emma smirked. “You do understand what this really is, don’t you, Detective Blackwell?”

  Erik sighed. “Yes, I do. She needs someone disposable.”

  Alina eyed them both. “What I need is someone not directly linked to the UTC ID. A little plausible deniability is useful, even for ghosts.” She stood. “I’ll give you time to think through the implications.” She gestured around the room. “You need to clean up.”

  “Even if I agree to work with you and you give me something I can use, won’t people link you to me?” Erik stood and dusted fire suppressant off his pants. “Don’t get too swelled a head from me saying this, but you kind of stand out, and you walked right into the station. That means you’re all over the cameras. And you’re about to walk outside my building and stand out some more.”

  Alina headed toward the door. “There are no witnesses nearby currently. I’ve made sure of it, and if you examine security footage for this building, you won’t see me coming or going. You’ll discover the same thing in your police footage. The few people who have seen me in person have their own various reasons to keep quiet, including you.”

  Erik chuckled. “You really are a ghost, aren’t you?”

  Alina stopped in front of the door, turning to answer before opening it. “It’s not enough protection to defeat a dedicated investigation, because I’m not willing to gut good cops and soldiers who are defending the UTC just to cover my ass, but it’d be enough to delay things. I’ll know about any attempt to initiate an investigation, and trust me, if you start something, you’ll never find me again, and you’ll never get any more information from me concerning what happened on Molino.” She opened the door and stepped through. She waved her fingers, a smirk on her face. “I’ll be in touch.”

  Erik slapped the access panel. The door slid closed.

  “What if it’s all an elaborate trap?” Emma asked.

  “It might be, but this is my best chance to avenge my soldiers.”

  “She mentioned your goals were aligned. What happens if they become unaligned?”

  Erik turned to Emma. “Then she better stay out of my way.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Chang’e City, Moon

  Remy kept his hand on the smooth support pole as the hovertrain slowed to a stop.

  Although he had a little space around him, bodies packed the seats and standing areas of the train, people quiet as they listened to music or news on their PNIUs. At least no one was having an annoying PNIU conversation.

  There was nothing more frustrating than hearing only one side of a conversation. It was impossible not to pay attention.

  A pleasant musical chime sounded, and an equally pleasant female voice made an announcement in Mandarin, followed by English.

  “Attention, passengers,” she announced. “We have arrived at Loading Platform 22. This is the last stop before leaving Habitation Dome Four. Please check that you have all y
our belongings with you before departing the train.”

  The doors slid open, and passengers began filing off.

  Remy flowed with the foot traffic. Although he might be in a hurry, that didn’t mean he wanted to give anyone a reason to be suspicious. He’d wasted half the day wandering to random shops and parks in the different domes making up Chang’e City, the largest settlement on the moon.

  It’d grown impressively over the centuries from the simple moon base that had formed its heart in 2032—not that Remy cared much about history, especially core world history.

  Making people care about something that happened a long time ago to other people was just another way of controlling them, in his mind.

  Remy continued walking away from the train and toward the wide steps leading to the station.

  Passengers streamed into the train with such coordination that it was like they’d planned it beforehand. The doors closed, and after a chime, the train zoomed away, the displaced air making his long dark hair sway. He slowed, and movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. A holographic ad depicted a beautiful woman twirling in a long, high-slit dress.

  “Be the future you today,” the woman insisted with a playful wink. An enticing melody played.

  The UTC was sick, and this advertisement was a symptom of that.

  It was just more disgusting rampant consumerism pushed out by Earth corporations. People struggled and died on the frontier to expand humanity’s reach, and the Earthers kept a firm grip on them, claiming they were all Terrans and pretending to allow freedom. Remy snorted. He wasn’t a sheep. He saw the truth. Somebody had to do something.

  If all of humanity couldn’t be saved, he’d worry about his own small chunk.

  The holographic woman tilted her head and smiled at Remy. “She’ll love the dress, sir. It would make a lovely gift. You can order online, or you can visit one of our shops in Chang’e City. Would you like the address transmitted to your PNIU? We can have an attendant ready for you when you enter.”

  Remy ignored the ad and continued toward the exit. He wasn’t on the moon to buy dresses, and it’d been a long time since he had given anyone a gift other than death.

  He emerged from the station, the arched facility giving way to the narrow streets and paths crisscrossing the area. Those were filled with long, squat buildings, some maintaining their original rock façade from the days when the moon was nothing more than tiny domes over caves—when people lived more like moles than humans.

  Blue skies stretched overhead; there was even a fake sun.

  Anyone traveling high enough would run into the composite alloys forming the habitation dome. It was almost a joke. They’d dug big holes, slapped a dome over it, and pretended it was a city. They kept an Earth-like daylight cycle, complete with stars. Even though they weren’t the actual stars, they were supposed to correspond to the stars one might see from the surface. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it was a lie, like everything in the UTC.

  The dome didn’t bother Remy as much as the lies. He’d been under plenty of domes in the colonies, but most of the frontier colonies didn’t try to pretend they were pleasant outdoor cities. They accepted the reality of what it meant to live on a potentially dangerous world that might never be totally safe or would take decades, if not centuries, of terraforming for human life. Chang’e was a perfect metaphor for the pretty lies the UTC liked to spread.

  False order stamped over the chaos of life.

  A small riderless mini-flitter pulled to a stop in front of him, and his PNIU chimed. Remy growled. If it was the stupid dress shop, he would go there just to scream at them.

  “If no one’s already told you,” offered a man in a raspy voice, “welcome to Chang’e City. I trust your trip went well?”

  This was a different sort of merchant, but a welcome one.

  “Well enough,” Remy replied. His accent might stand out on some colonies, but not so much in the sea of diverse humanity populating Earth and the moon. That was one advantage of conducting operations there, despite the stronger concentration of government dogs. Here he was just another tourist. “The voice sounds right, but I need to be sure. You’re Mr. Barbu?”

  “Yes, Marius Barbu, at your service. Please board the flitter, and it’ll take you to me. I could give you directions, but I don’t think that would be all that efficient.”

  Remy hesitated. The whole thing could be a trap. Barbu could have sold him out to the lunar authorities or the Criminal Investigation Directorate. Getting caught after traveling so long would be both annoying and humiliating.

  He let out a growl of frustration. There was little choice. He couldn’t get the equipment he needed for the plan without going to Barbu, not without more time, and he knew the government dogs were already sniffing.

  Risk was inherent in what he was planning, but no one ever changed society by playing it safe.

  Remy boarded the flitter. The vehicle floated away from the station, staying close to the ground. Lunar law prohibited civilian flitters from ascending above certain altitudes. He’d read that having flying vehicles too high up in a cramped dome was too dangerous.

  He allowed himself a slight grin. It wasn’t like they shot people down if they flew too high, right?

  Everything would be perfect…provided he could get the gear.

  Remy stepped off the flitter and walked up the stairs toward the door to the tiny shop.

  There was no sign to indicate the kinds of goods sold inside, and the window colors had been adjusted to match the exterior. Unlike many other buildings in the neighborhood, it was a freestanding structure that lacked the rock remnants from the original lunar tunnels.

  It was a tad bizarre that his great mission might start at such an otherwise nondescript place.

  He approached the door and reached for the access panel, but the door opened. Calling it a shop was an overstatement.

  It was a glorified room with a plain white front counter. Holographic flower displays floated on either end of the counter. A shriveled, wizened man sat on the other side of the counter; he was bald, his face covered by jagged scars. A black patch covered one eye.

  Remy’s mouth twitched, but he stopped himself from a full grimace. He had known what Barbu looked like but seeing a picture and seeing him up close were different experiences, to be sure.

  “Don’t worry. I get that reaction a lot when people first see me.” Barbu let out a wheezy laugh. “It’s because I’m a reminder of a truth a lot of people want to forget.” He waved a hand at himself. “This is what we’re meant to be, Mr. Mont. Aging and death are what make a person a person. I’d rather be tortured to death than submit to a de-aging treatment.”

  Remy shrugged. If Barbu wanted to talk about it, so be it. “Plenty of people don’t get de-aging. A lot of people can’t even afford it. It’s not about you being old, it’s about everything else. Are you actually missing an eye? You know how many people I’ve been in battles with who have lost eyes and had them replaced right away?”

  Barbu gestured at Remy. “I have a simple philosophy about what it means to be human. I don’t accept those nasty little robots in my body when I’m hurt, and if my body isn’t making the new cells itself, I don’t want them.” He banged a fist on the countertop three times. “No. Fake. Parts! Every time a person replaces a piece of themselves with a metal part or grows a fake part, they’re losing a part of what makes them human. Humanity used to understand that, but they allowed themselves to forget.” He pointed at Remy, “The Purists might be a bunch of pompous asses, but they’ve got a point. The last time people thought they could make humans better, a lot of people died.”

  “A lot of people have died for a lot of reasons.” Remy reasoned.

  “There’s nothing to fear about dying naturally,” Barbu insisted. “If it was good enough for our ancestors, it’s good enough for me.”

  Remy respected a man who clung to his ideals even when it was inconvenient. If Marius Barbu were younge
r, Remy would have tried to recruit him. Most humans lacked that anymore, whether Earthers or colonials.

  Conviction. Hard, diamond-tough, no-holds-barred, believe-it-until-your-death conviction.

  “You don’t think technology is just humans using their ultimate advantage?” he asked the man.

  Barbu sucked in another wheezy breath. “Sure, some tech, but not anything that twists us away from being human, and none of that alien stuff. That’s just disgusting and wrong. We have no business flying around the galaxy in something we didn’t develop ourselves.” He leaned back and steepled his bony fingers. “But you didn’t come here to discuss my life philosophy, now did you, Mr. Mont? You came because I’m a man with a reputation among certain people, a reputation that says I can get things people need.”

  “All my contacts told me you were the man to come to if I needed the goods. I sent you my request before I came here, but when I checked my messages, you hadn’t responded.

  “I apologize for that, but it’s not my policy to confirm orders other than in person. It lowers the chance of anti-businesspeople interfering.” Barbu bowed with a flourish. “But I am at your service, Mr. Mont, and I did receive your message. I know you’re seeking certain high-end gear, and I can get it directly from a solid, reliable source.” He smiled. “As long as you have the credits.”

  Remy stared at him for several seconds, awaiting a question that didn’t come. “You’re not going to ask me what I need it for?”

  Barbu laughed. “Why would I do that? I don’t care as long as you pay me. I’m not an idiot, Mr. Mont. You need a lot of guns. You’re going to shoot someone, probably a lot of people. As long as it’s not me, we won’t have a problem.” There was a curious glint in his eyes. “I’m surprised you came all the way to the Solar System for this. This isn’t the only place you can get guns.”