Legacy of the Argus

by E. R. Torre

  David Lemner frowned. It seemed the pain, exhaustion, and heavy drinking were finally hitting him. He reached into his pocket and produced a small tablet computer.

  “Here you go,” he said. “The moment of truth.”

  David Lemner pressed a button on the tablet and security camera video appeared on its screen. Displayed was a conference room. People were seated around a large table. One of them was David Lemner but Vulcan didn’t recognize the others. The door leading into the conference room opened and a man entered.

  It was Paul Spradlin.

  He sported medicated gauze over the right side of his face and arm.

  “Spradlin was injured?”

  “Yeah,” Lemner said. “A couple of months ago. One day he’s fine, the next he shows up to a meeting looking like Frankenstein’s monster. We asked what happened but Spradlin didn’t say.”

  “He’s looked like that for a couple of months?”

  “Of course,” Lemner said. “The injuries were serious. It would take a hell of a long time to recover.”

  For any normal human, this of course was true. But for Spradlin and his nano-probe rich body, this slow healing suggested something far more sinister.

  “Go on,” Vulcan said.

  “So Spradlin tells us the whole damn Arabian situation has been solved. We look at each other, not sure what the fuck he’s talking about and then… and then our phones –all of them– go off at the same time. News alerts, calls from our contacts here and out there. Arabia’s been nuked. All the big cities. Many, many millions dead and our child soldiers vaporized. We’re processing it all, scared as shit but he… he’s cool. He tells us not to worry and at that point, we realize he set the nukes off. He… he tells us we can spin this and take credit for solving the world’s collective pain in the ass once and for all. I’m not a politician but those around the table who were see the light. What’s done is done, right? There’s no turning back. They switch gears and are already thinking about their next step. Me? I spent years programming those child soldiers and he takes them –and all my hard work– away just like that. He tells me my labs were being confiscated right that minute and all programs were now the property of whatever Corporation funded him.”

  David Lemner winced at the thought.

  “So I’m out of work,” Lemner said. “I protest, in vain, and Spradlin makes it clear he doesn’t give a shit he’s taken away my life’s work. But that’s just like him, isn’t it? He does whatever the fuck he wants and we’re told to deal with his decisions.”

  “And then?”

  “Then? Then he gets up and leaves. No goodbyes, no thank yous, no—”

  “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know. We spent the next few minutes after he’s gone verifying everything he said, about the nukes and about what’s left of the Arabian Peninsula. I won’t bore you with the details. Later on, some of us searched for Spradlin in his old haunts. We found those offices and buildings either shut down or locked up. Most were completely empty, as if they’d never been used.”

  David Lemner shook his head.

  “You want to know where Spradlin is? At this point, you have just as good an idea as I do. But at least there’s one thing you can be optimistic about.”

  “Which is?”

  “If you’re lucky, Spradlin will want to find you.”

  With that, David Lemner laid his head down and closed his eyes. He fell into a deep sleep.

  16

  The days passed.

  Vulcan contacted Octi Corporation through an intermediary and offered to buy the Caligari Building. They were more than willing to get rid of it provided she paid a very inflated price. After a round of mild haggling and by using funds stored away many years before, Vulcan purchased the structure.

  Vulcan filled the penthouse with computers and used sophisticated programs to follow the people present during Spradlin’s last known appearance on David Lemner’s security footage.

  Vulcan broke into their homes and places of business and planted listening and visual surveillance devices.

  She listened in and watched their day to day lives. Many had secrets, from affairs to rival business negotiations to kinky hobbies. But it was clear none of them knew where Spradlin was.

  One by one she crossed them off her list.

  All but one: Jennifer Alberts.

  She was a powerful politician with strong ties to the quickly emerging corporate political class. To many, she was the perfect mid-wife to oversee the transition from a Democracy to this hybrid theocratic capitalism.

  She spent most of her time in a luxurious apartment in the Big City, one that on clear days Vulcan saw from her own penthouse balcony. She had several lovers, none serious, and ambition to spare. She also owned a massive mansion on the north side. It was in an area filled with withering forests, old and new money, and very heavy security.

  Jennifer Alberts visited the mansion once every month. She always did so alone and while carting a supply of food and perishables. She stayed only long enough to deliver the supplies and leave. Then, after another month passed, she would repeat the visit and cargo drop off.

  Vulcan rose from her chair.

  She had a mansion to visit.

  Vulcan bypassed the many computer and security checkpoints before pausing along the shadowy road.

  Jennifer Albert’s mansion was hidden behind a forest that, like most things on this planet, was in the process of dying. Withered leaves blew upon the once grassy and now dirt filled plain. The mansion loomed in the distance, unseen to normal eyes but visible to Vulcan’s enhanced vision.

  There were no lights on within the building nor any evidence of electric use.

  Jennifer Alberts made her latest delivery and returned to her vehicle. She started it up and drove through the property and toward the entry gate while Vulcan waited.

  Jennifer Alberts’ car slowed as she neared the gate. The gate’s security sensed the vehicle and, after it slid open, she drove on toward the Big City.

  Jennifer Alberts did not see Vulcan emerge from behind a tree and run through the gate just before it closed.

  Once inside Alberts’ property, Vulcan examined the road before her. She spotted several sensor pads and motion detectors.

  Vulcan avoided most of them but lingered for a few minutes near one. She pressed her hand against the device, gaining information as she did. Once done, she continued forward.

  As Vulcan neared the mansion, she detected electronic devices operating from somewhere deep beneath the structure.

  “A basement,” Vulcan said. “How interesting.”

  The basement was made up of tunnels carved into thick rock.

  Vulcan moved slowly through them and paid attention to every sound or smell. Both came from far away. She detected a mechanical grind and the oily scent of generators, likely the source of the basement’s power. There was also the smell of recent and old foods, body odors, and medication.

  Vulcan moved deeper into the cave-like place while using every shadow to her best advantage.

  Abruptly, she stopped.

  Someone approached.

  Despite her soft steps, the approaching woman was tall and bulky. She sported an array of mechanical augmentations and moved as if she knew every corner of her dark domain. Her legs and right arm were horribly scarred and what little flesh remained on these body parts barely covered the mechanical devices which served as replacements. Her face was remarkably human but her eyes were metallic spheres. They glowed in the darkness.

  The woman slowed. She stopped.

  “I know you’re there,” she said.

  Vulcan felt her as well. Within the stranger’s body were nano-probes. The memory of the woman receiving Paul Spradlin’s blood transfusion replayed vividly within Vulcan’s mind.

  “I come in peace, Becky Waters,” Vulcan said.

  The woman snorted.

  “You know me,” she said.

  Becky Waters suddenly moved, qui
ckly, and vanished in the darkness.

  Vulcan sprinted forward as well.

  Just then, an electric charge built throughout the tunnel. It strengthened until it was a massive whirlwind which threatened to tear Vulcan’s body apart.

  “You won’t make it out of here,” Becky said.

  Vulcan stopped.

  Within the stone corridor, lights flashed and the charge neared critical. Deadly arcs jumped from the walls and reached out at Vulcan.

  “How many more of you are there?” Becky asked.

  “There are no others.”

  Becky Waters emerged from the shadows. She was at the other end of the corridor and well away from the electric trap.

  “How do you know me?” Becky asked.

  “I know what’s inside your body. Your blood.”

  What looked like a smile appeared on the hybrid woman’s lips.

  “Seeing you there, all helpless, brings back some great memories. It’s been a while since I’ve roasted one of your kind.”

  “I know about Samantha,” Vulcan said. “You were not responsible for what happened to her.”

  Becky Waters was very quiet for several seconds.

  “Spradlin shared his nano-probes and much of his memories with you,” Vulcan continued. “But he also withheld knowledge.”

  “Such as?”

  “Who I am,” Vulcan said.

  “Enlighten me.”

  “I was a member of the first group of Chameleon Units to set foot on this world,” Vulcan said. She took a step forward.

  “I wouldn’t—” Becky began.

  Vulcan took another step. The electric arcs reached out like high tension fingers.

  “I’ve seen more of this world than any other living being,” Vulcan said while closing in on Becky Waters. “I’ve watched Empires rise and fall. I’ve seen good men and women offer hope for the future. I’ve seen others corrupted by the evil within them, their accomplishments forgotten in time. Good and bad, I’ve grown to love Earth and her people. I’ve come here to help.”

  “You won’t be the first lying Chameleon I’ve faced,” Becky growled. “For the last time, stay where you are!”

  “There was something else Spradlin didn’t tell you,” Vulcan said. “What happened in Arabia.”

  Becky Waters was at a loss for words and Vulcan stopped moving. She faced the wall to her side and raised her right hand. She then looked back at Becky Waters and snapped her fingers.

  The moment Vulcan did, the electric arcs disappeared and Becky Waters’ trap was disarmed.

  “Son of a…!” Becky yelled.

  Becky Waters ran with blinding speed at Vulcan, her metallic augmentations providing energy for her superhuman movement. She was a blur of motion yet Vulcan saw her.

  She also saw the black blade in her hands.

  With equal, if not quicker speed, Vulcan dodged both Becky and her blade. The metallic human hybrid overshot her intended victim and came to a screeching halt twenty feet away.

  Becky Waters spun around and this time, more slowly, approached Vulcan.

  “There is no need to fight,” Vulcan said.

  Becky Waters was not interested in conversation. She continued moving while keeping her body in the dead center of the corridor. There would be no way for Vulcan to get past her.

  When she was within striking range, Becky Waters thrust the blade forward. Incredibly, Vulcan didn’t move.

  The blade neared Vulcan but, abruptly, Becky Waters’ arm froze.

  Becky Waters’ eyes opened very wide. It was as if an invisible cocoon were holding her arm –her entire body– still.

  Vulcan walked around the blade and to Becky’s side.

  “I deactivated your traps and, so that there isn’t any doubt, I’m controlling you now,” Vulcan said.

  Becky Waters’ hand opened and the blade fell from it. Vulcan caught and examined it.

  “Quality work,” Vulcan said. “You know who taught Spradlin how to make these things? Me.”

  Becky Waters’ eyes followed Vulcan and a thin layer of sweat appeared on her forehead.

  “I came for information,” Vulcan said. “I want to know where Spradlin is. That’s all.”

  Becky Waters closed her eyes. Her face turned red and more sweat poured down.

  “Please don’t struggle,” Vulcan said. “Just talk.”

  Becky nonetheless continued to fight. She managed to move her arm. Only an inch. The effort caused the skin between her mechanical augmentations to rip. Blood dripped from these new cuts.

  “Don’t fight.”

  Becky Waters’ eyes were upon Vulcan. They were filled with pure hatred and there was no way to switch it off. Not by holding Becky Waters in place and certainly not by causing her pain.

  “You don’t know what he’s up to,” Vulcan continued. “Given how you feel about him, I suppose it isn’t in his interests.”

  Vulcan walked to the end of the corridor and laid the black blade on a table. She returned to Becky Waters’ side.

  “Much as you may not believe me, I don’t want to hurt you,” Vulcan said.

  “Then let me go.”

  “I will,” Vulcan said. “But before I do…”

  Vulcan laid her hand on Becky Water’s shoulder.

  In that moment, Becky Waters felt the presence of Vulcan’s nano-probes trying to contact her.

  “Get out of my head,” the woman hissed.

  Becky Waters’ body heated up. Sweat poured down her face and stained her clothing.

  “Relax,” Vulcan said.

  Becky Waters shook her head and let out an angry roar.

  “Let the information flow into you,” Vulcan said. Then, in a very soft voice: “Please.”

  The strain proved too much and Becky Waters suddenly let go. Her body relaxed and she fell forward, exhausted.

  “All right,” she muttered.

  In that moment, Vulcan’s nano-probes interacted with those inside Becky Waters.

  Vulcan sat at the table, her hands flat upon it.

  Becky Waters paced behind her. Her black blade was on the table, within reach, yet Becky Waters no longer needed it.

  Vulcan gave Becky Waters her history and it both intrigued and horrified the human/machine hybrid.

  Details included her –his!– journeys over the years as well as his first meeting with Paul Spradlin in 1925. The attempts Vulcan made to help Spradlin over the years. The clusterfuck that occurred on Bad Penny so long ago…

  All led up to Vulcan’s receiving the strange messages which drew her back to Earth and the discovery of Spradlin’s involvement in the Arabian War.

  Becky Waters rubbed her hands together. The many cuts she sustained while fighting Vulcan stopped bleeding long before and her flesh was well on its way to healing.

  “Spradlin gave me a head’s up about Arabia a few days before he… before he nuked the damn place. Didn’t tell me exactly what he was up to but said something big was going to happen. Then he told me not to worry about it.”

  Becky Waters shook her head.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about nuking nearly a billion people,” she said.

  “You know I could not find a single body or body part anywhere within the blast zones,” Vulcan said.

  “Which means he was up to something else,” Becky Waters said.

  Becky Waters slammed her hand against the rocky wall and swore.

  “He always had plans,” she continued. “I may not agree with almost everything Spradlin’s done since leaving me, but he has good reason not to trust you. If it makes you feel any better, I’m sure you’ll meet up with him eventually. By now he must know you’re looking for him. Maybe one day he shows up, just like that, and tells you what you want to know. Either that or takes you out.”

  “Understood,” Vulcan said.

  She rose from her seat and walked toward the door leading to the stairs and the mansion’s ground floor. Before she reached the door, Becky Waters said:

  “I
can’t forgive Spradlin for what he did, but I had no idea of all the things he went through. I hope you weren’t trying to make me feel sympathy for the bastard.”

  “Only offer another perspective,” Vulcan said. “Does Spradlin know Jennifer Alberts is your great, great granddaughter?”

  Becky Waters shook her head.

  “Fucking nano-probes don’t know how to keep any secrets,” Becky Waters said. A wistful smile appeared on her face. “We were quite the couple. Once.”

  “Perhaps one day, you’ll be a couple again.”

  Vulcan reached for the door’s handle and opened it.

  “If I do find Spradlin, is there anything you want me to…?”

  “Nothing,” Becky Waters said.

  Vulcan stepped through the door and headed up the stairs and into the mansion.

  Becky Waters instructed the nano-probes within her to clear all security and allow Vulcan an easy path out.

  She stifled a laugh.

  As if Vulcan needed the help.

  17

  More days, weeks, and months passed.

  Paul Spradlin remained a ghost, an apparition whose actions hung over the entire planet like a deathly shadow, impacting things that were along with those to come.

  In time, Vulcan located others with ties to the General. She approached many, sometimes forcefully, sometimes subtly, yet achieved little.

  The Corporations and the men and women Spradlin convinced to bankroll the Arabian War were incensed by the loss of vast territories and mineral riches now buried under radioactive waste.

  Despite this betrayal, the Corporations realized Paul Spradlin played the game better than they.

  When the riches of Arabia were lost, the prices of the remaining commodities –those which the Corporations already controlled– soared to a value unheard of and the Corporations found themselves flush with money.

  The politicians Paul Spradlin used as proxies feared that following the war voters would turn on them. Instead, they found the proper spin to convince voters their actions were “bold” and “decisive”. A carefully orchestrated campaign was launched to cheer this war’s sudden end and corporate promotion machines disguised as balanced news networks helped them frame the horrors in a positive light. The loss of life was the only true, final solution to the many problems plaguing the Arabian peninsula since the dawn of civilization. It came down to us or them and, when presented that way, many muttered good riddance.