Spaceside

by Michael Mammay

  “Absolutely not,” said Riku. “We have free will. In fact, most of the people like us have chosen not to get involved. They can pass for human, so they’re integrating back into society. They have no reason to fight.”

  I’d never considered that. Like the Cappans, I’d thought of the hybrids as one contiguous group. Again, it made sense that they weren’t. Why would they be? I had a serious flaw in my thinking.

  “How many of the Cappans are aligned with this group? How many think it’s a good idea to work with me? How many want me dead?”

  Sasha smiled. “Now you’re asking the right questions. But the answers aren’t mine to give. You should ask that when you meet. Take the two days and think about it. We’re not looking to force you into action.”

  “You broke into my apartment. You’ve not-so-subtly said you might expose Ganos. You have to see how that makes me skeptical.”

  “That was necessary,” said Riku. “With Ganos, we had to keep tabs on people who could expose us. And we broke in because we couldn’t risk another interaction like we had on the street the other day.”

  “I suppose not,” I said. “But then if you’re not here to force me, why are you here?”

  Sasha gave me a flat smile. “To ask you to do the right thing.”

  Shit. If they’d kidnapped me and dragged me to meet the Cappans I might have resisted, and they’d have done what they were going to do, we’d fight, and that would be that. But they went and appealed to my sense of justice.

  Fighting dirty.

  “Why do they want me?”

  “They’re convinced that you’re the right person to help them,” said Sasha.

  I shook my head. “Their confidence in me is flattering. But I think they’ve got it wrong.” I held up my glass. “I’m just a washed-up drunk who’s seen one too many battlefields.”

  “Bullshit,” said Sasha with a fierceness that startled me for a second. Then again, I didn’t believe it myself, so I understood her sentiment.

  “You know I did the wrong thing, right? On Cappa?”

  Sasha smiled. “We know. But right and wrong are not absolutes. What is right at one moment might be wrong at another.”

  “That’s crap! There are moral absolutes. And what I did—”

  “If it’s a moral absolute, why did you do it?” asked Riku. “Are you an immoral man?”

  I gave him a flat smile, then shook my head. “I don’t know. I might be.”

  They glanced at each other again. The woman spoke this time. “Our allies are willing to believe that you aren’t.”

  “Okay. You said I could have two days. I understand your stipulations about not taking action to harm you in any way. What about actions against Omicron?” It didn’t seem prudent to specify that I’d already taken one such action by breaking into their system.

  “As long as they don’t lead back to us,” Sasha said.

  “Okay. How do I contact you?”

  “Message the word ‘decision’ to this number.” My device vibrated on the shelf where I’d set it.

  “Two days,” I said.

  Once they left, I slumped onto my sofa, finished my drink, and contemplated my ridiculous situation. I’d pretty much already decided to take the meeting. The only thing to figure out was how to best prepare in the two days I had.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I went to work early the next day. Sasha had told me that the people who shot me worked for Omicron. It stuck with me, and my gut said that Omicron had something to do with the Cappans wanting to meet with me. There were too many coincidences for them not to be linked, especially given what Ganos had found out about the Phoenix Project. I’d lain awake most of the night, thinking about what Sasha and Riku told me. Damn if I didn’t believe them. Damn if I didn’t think the Cappans were the good guys. Maybe I’d spent enough time around corporations like Omicron to know their ills. Maybe I figured that after killing so many Cappans I owed them. Either way, I had a meeting with the Cappans in two days, and I wanted to go into it knowing as much as possible.

  Walking into Omicron’s lobby and demanding answers wouldn’t work. I could have gone back at them through their computer network, but I didn’t want to further involve Ganos—I still held out hope that she’d take my advice and leave the city for a bit. And Javier had removed any official backing I had to go at them as a VPC employee. With my options limited, I felt like I had only one other avenue.

  Make things very unofficial.

  It was time to put some pressure on Javier about his contact. He knew things he hadn’t shared, and I wanted to know them. All that stood in my way was the small fact that he’d had a very expensive attorney tell me to drop my investigation. But with only two days, I had to take risks. If it meant potential termination of my job, so be it. I was tired of VPC anyway. I grabbed some coffee and headed up to his office to see if I could get on his schedule.

  Turned out I didn’t need an appointment; Javier greeted me the moment I walked into his outer office. “Carl! Just the man I wanted to talk to. You saved me from having someone call you up.”

  I tried to hide my surprise. I’d rehearsed several possible approaches in my head, but none of them involved Javier issuing me an invitation. “Sure thing, boss,” I said, after what I hoped wasn’t too awkward of a pause. I followed him into his inner office.

  “I want to talk to you about Omicron.” Javier spoke before he got the door closed. I was glad he hadn’t been looking at my face when he said it, because he caught me by surprise again.

  I pretended to look out his giant windows where red early-morning sunlight played across the city, throwing long shadows. I used the time to gather myself. “I got the message from the attorney to stand down,” I said, turning back to look at him.

  He was shaking his head. “I’m disappointed, Carl.”

  My mind raced. What did he know? He couldn’t know about the hack we’d done on their network. No way. “I’m a bit lost.”

  “You didn’t think it would get back to me that you were at Omicron looking for employment?” he asked.

  Oh. Relief washed through me, but only for a moment. I wasn’t in trouble for the illegal breach of a rival company’s network. Good. But I had to explain to my boss about my cover story, which involved me turning my back on the company that employed me. Bad. And I couldn’t tell him that my purpose for visiting Omicron was merely a cover for our operation. Very bad. I pondered my options for about three seconds before deciding on a course: blatant lying. When I spoke, I did my best to sound relaxed. “Oh, that. That was nothing. A cover story.” The best lies have an element of the truth in them.

  Javier started to speak, but stopped himself twice. He’d probably rehearsed this confrontation, and I’d thrown him. He hadn’t expected my answer. “Now I’m lost,” he said.

  “I was trying to find a new lead at Omicron . . . this was before you sent me the message to cease work on that . . . so I pretended to be on the job market to give me an excuse to get into their building and see if I could accidentally run into somebody who might know something.”

  He walked around behind his desk and sat down, then gestured to a chair for me. I took a few extra seconds getting seated, letting my words sink in, hoping he bought it. Come on. It’s a good story. Buy it!

  “That makes a lot of sense,” he said, finally. “You should know that they took your overture seriously. That might cause some problems.”

  “No problem,” I said, warming to the lie. “I’ll tell them that you found out about it, confronted me, and made me a better offer.”

  He almost laughed at that. “That’s convenient for you.”

  “There doesn’t have to actually be a better offer. They won’t know. Or, if there is, it doesn’t need to be about money. I can be vague, say something like you gave me new responsibilities that I find challenging.”

  He thought about it. “I could support that. We could create some sort of internal task force, put your name on it. That way
Omicron’s sources in our company would confirm it.”

  “They have spies here?”

  “Of course they do,” he said.

  I had a lot to learn about corporate competition. “And we have them there, which is how you found out about me being there.”

  “Not in this case. Someone from Omicron told me directly. Courtesy.”

  I couldn’t help wondering if that person was the same one who’d told him initially about the security breach. He’d said it had been military, but I didn’t know if I believed that anymore. Before I could press the issue, he stood, forcing me to stand with him.

  “I hate to push you out, but I’ve got a meeting. I trust that I won’t hear any more about you looking elsewhere for a job. If you have a problem, you come see me, first. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I said. The door opened and I found myself ushered outside by a frazzled assistant, then standing dumbly in the outer office, wondering what happened to my plan to push Javier for information.

  After heading back to my office for a bit to regroup, I decided to try again, so I headed back up to the top floor. Javier had somebody in his office when I showed up, so I waited twenty minutes for him to finish, passing the time reading news on my device. The lead story involved a shoot-out between unknown people about three blocks from my building. I wondered if I’d known any of the people involved. Odds seemed good. The police had no leads.

  Javier came out of his office behind two executives, one man, one woman, both in expensive black suits. I couldn’t place the man, though I’d seen him somewhere before. I didn’t recognize the woman at all. Javier saw me but ushered the others out without introducing us. Odd. Introducing me to people used to be why he kept me around.

  “Carl. What can I do for you? I’ve only got a minute before my next meeting.”

  “I have a couple things I want to ask you about Omicron.”

  “I thought I was clear. That’s over.”

  “It is. And I’m not doing anything to violate that directive. But I have a few leftover thoughts that I want to bounce off of you.”

  A look passed across his face for a moment, but I couldn’t place it. It might have been disappointment, or resignation. Either way, it had been a mistake to come back to him. “Let it go, Carl.”

  I hesitated for a split second. “Right. Sorry to bother you, boss.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  “Sure thing.”

  I left the office unsure what to do next. I had wanted Javier’s contact, which I believed was inside Omicron, because I wanted to find a way in there that I could use for my plan with the hybrids. He’d shut the door on that possibility pretty firmly. But something seemed off about it, and his saying to let it go made me want to look into it more. On a hunch, I went back in to the outer office. Javier had gone to his inner office and had the door closed, so I approached his assistant.

  “Excuse me,” I said. “Mr. Sanchez asked me to follow up with the woman he just met with, and I realized I don’t have her contact information. Do you happen to have that?”

  “Sure thing, sir,” the young man said. He pressed a few keys and my device vibrated. “There you go.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “You’re a life saver.” I glanced at my device as soon as I reached the hallway. I almost tripped as I read the contact. Sheilla Ranier. Omicron Industries. There could have been a plausible explanation for it, I suppose. But Javier had told me that the Omicron thing was over, right after meeting with their representative. It seemed unlikely that they’d be so unrelated that he wouldn’t think to mention it. I tried to come up with an innocent reason for his actions. I couldn’t.

  Too many things overlapped, but none of it fit together. Javier had put me onto the case in the first place, but he’d never been forthcoming. I accepted it at the time, but now I wondered why he sent me off to do something without sharing all the information. I didn’t understand it. Perhaps I wasn’t supposed to. VPC might have wanted me to drop the investigation, but there was no longer any chance of that.

  By the time I made it back to my apartment I needed a drink. After I poured, I called Plazz to check in. She might have found something on Omicron or Gylika. It was a long shot, but in the back of my head I also thought there was a chance I might need her help after I met with the Cappans. It’s a shitty reason to call somebody—so that you can use them later—but I also wanted to share something that might help her, and maybe convince her that I wasn’t an asshole.

  Maybe convince myself of that while I was at it.

  “I was wondering when you were going to call me again,” said Plazz. She had used the privacy setting on her device so it didn’t broadcast a picture. “What do you want?”

  “Can’t a guy just call to check in?”

  “He could. But you don’t,” she said. “How are you feeling after the shooting? You okay?”

  “Yeah. Good as new. How are things in your world?”

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “I’m a reporter. I can sense when you’re hiding news. You know something good. Spill it.”

  “I can’t,” I said.

  “You know that you suck.”

  “That’s a pretty widely held opinion, yeah.”

  “What can you tell me?”

  “Nothing yet,” I said. “But I might have something soon.”

  “Give me a hint,” she said.

  “Okay.” I had intended to tell her all along, but I thought it would sound more convincing if I let her work it out of me. I might have been overthinking things. “Javier Sanchez gave me an assignment to look into the breach in security at Omicron. Recently, he told me to cut off all action associated with that. Today, after he reiterated that I should cease work, he met with executives from Omicron at his office.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “What do you think it means?”

  “No idea.”

  “You’ve got some idea,” she said. “You wouldn’t have mentioned it, otherwise.”

  “I’m still working through it. I shared it in case you had ideas.” In truth, I shared it because I needed to tell someone, and she was the only one I trusted. It was a sorry state of affairs when the most trustworthy person I had was a reporter.

  “I could run something about the meeting between Javier and Omicron and see what shakes out from it,” she offered. “Is that what you want?”

  “That would lead back to me,” I said. “Besides, if you did that, you’d run the risk of ruining the bigger story.”

  “There’s a bigger story?”

  “There is,” I said, “but the last time I had a good lead somebody ended up dead.” I stopped talking. I had said it as a joke, but it hit close to home. Somebody had killed Gylika, and they probably did it because he was going to leak something. Or somebody believed he might. They’d do the same to me if they thought I was a threat.

  “Okay. I’ll hold off for now on the story, and I’ll poke around a bit to see if I can find anything without tipping my hand. But get me something soon. I’ve got to go,” said Plazz. “I’ve got a date.”

  “Anybody I know?” I asked.

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I know a lot of people,” I teased.

  She laughed. “Don’t wait too long to call back. I want to hear from you this week. You owe me a story.”

  She disconnected before I could protest.

  Now I had two deadlines.

  Dr. Baqri stood and went to the window to adjust the blind, reducing the glare in the room.

  “Do you think it’s possible that guilt can cause you to make bad decisions?” I asked.

  “What do you mean? Like in general?”

  “Is it possible to feel so guilty about the past that you blind yourself to a current situation?”

  She thought about it for a moment, though probably for effect more than anything else. “I think guilt can do a lot of thin
gs. What are you feeling guilty about?”

  “What do you think?” I asked.

  She nodded. “And what kind of decision do you think it’s leading you to?”

  I’d prepared for that question, so I had an answer ready that didn’t give too much away. “I think I want to do something to help the Cappans.”

  “So some sort of atonement,” she said.

  “I don’t know that I can ever possibly atone for what I did. But yeah, something like that.”

  “I think you have to be careful with that sort of thing,” she said. “Certainly it’s okay to do something to help. But if you go into it hoping that it’s going to assuage your guilt, you might be disappointed.”

  I considered it. I didn’t know what the Cappans would ask me for—they were going to ask me for something, I was sure—and I had to consider that my own judgment might be suspect when it came to them. Whatever their interests, they probably wouldn’t line up with mine. But that assumed I understood my own interests.

  “You with me, Carl?” she asked.

  “Sorry. My mind wandered a bit.”

  “You seem off. Are you planning to harm yourself?”

  “Blunt as always, hey doc?” I smiled. “No. I’m not planning to harm myself. I haven’t been at that point in more than a year.”

  “You know I had to ask,” she said.

  “I understand. I’m okay.”

  I had another day, but no leads, and I was spinning myself into the ground thinking about what the Cappans might want. I sent the word decision to the number in my device before I got all the way out of her office.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sasha and Riku were waiting for me in my apartment when I arrived home. “Not going to lie,” I said. “This whole appearing out of nowhere thing is pretty creepy.”

  “We can’t exactly wait out on the street,” said Sasha.

  “I understand. I’m ready for the meeting.”

  “You’re early,” she said.

  “Once I made up my mind, it seemed pointless to delay.”