by Tripp Ellis
Max saw a black Celectra sedan parked on the street. It probably belonged to the spot of grease on the sidewalk, she thought. Max could hear sirens echoing off the buildings as the police and EMTs approached. She didn't want to stick around any longer than she had to. Another trip to jail wasn't on her agenda.
Within a few moments, the sport bike pulled up to the curb. And it wasn’t a moment too soon. Two patrol cars had arrived on the scene. Red and blue lights flashed. They parted the crowd and moved the gawkers back, trying to secure the area.
Max straddled the saddle and twisted the throttle as best she could with her crippled hands. She eased into the flow of traffic. Max clutched Felix in her left arm like a football and held the throttle with her right. It was a challenge to operate. She put the bike on autopilot and zipped through the city heading toward the 29 Diner.
As hot as the day had been, the night air was cool and refreshing. It was thick with humidity, but it wasn't near as stifling as the sweltering midday sun had been. The breeze was almost nice.
Max felt her mobile buzz. It was almost impossible to slip her fingers into her pocket with the oversized casts. Once she finally did manage to wedge them between the tight fabric, the next challenge was grasping the slick smart-glass device. She barely managed to slip the phone out of her pocket before it stopped ringing. She had to use her only unwrapped finger to swipe the screen and accept the call. It was Detective Lockwood.
His eyes widened at the sight of Max. “What the hell happened to your face?"
“What the hell happened to your face?" she sassed back at him.
Lockwood shook his head, exasperated. "Where are you, and what are you doing?”
“Why? Do you miss me?”
He sighed. “You didn't happen to visit the Pink Kitty Club earlier tonight, did you?"
Max shrugged. "Who's asking?"
Lockwood's eyes narrowed at her. "I'm asking."
“I don't know. I've been a lot of places this evening. I don't recall."
“Well, it seems that a woman matching your description assaulted one of the dancers and put a bouncer in the hospital."
“I’m sure I wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“I’m sure," Lockwood said, knowing better. “And the dead body on the sidewalk outside of Valesco Towers?”
Max looked at him like she was offended by the accusation. "Are you going to blame all the deaths in the city on me?"
“No. Only the ones that have your hand writing on them." Lockwood squinted, trying to make out what she was holding under her left arm. "Is that a cat?”
“Yes. Are you a cat person?”
"I'm not even a people person."
“Maybe you should get a pet. It might help your stress level.”
“I’m not stressed,” Lockwood said, his voice thick with tension.
“You sound stressed to me.”
“That’s because I’ve got a trail of dead bodies to deal with."
“Well, I appreciate your efforts to make the city safer." Max flashed an innocent smile.
"I’m not entirely sure the city is safe with you on the streets.”
“Do you know the identity of the grease spot?” Max asked, trying not to sound too interested.
“Why?”
“Just curious.”
“Eddie Flats. Also known as Eddie Pipes. He's a freelance hitman with a penchant for beating his victims to death with the lead pipe. A little old-school, but effective. Except in this case, apparently."
"See, the streets are safer already." A sly grin curled on Max’s lips.
Lockwood rolled his eyes. “One of these days you're going to pick a fight you can't win."
“Maybe.” Max grinned. "But not today."
21
The young hostess at the 29 Diner gasped when she saw Max’s mangled face. “Table for one?” she asked hesitantly.
“I’m meeting someone here.” Max surveyed the diner, looking for prospects. She had no idea who she was meeting.
“You must be Max,” the hostess said. She eye’d Felix, cradled comfortably in Max’s arm. “We don't normally allow pets in the restaurant, but we’ll make an exception this time,” the hostess said in a hushed tone, seeming to take sympathy on Max. "Right this way.” She led Max to a booth in the back of the diner.
The man sitting at the table wore a brown fedora hat and brown leather jacket. The brim was tipped down and Max couldn't see his eyes until he looked up. He had a round face and a short curly brown beard. His blue eyes peered at Max through wireframe glasses. "Please, have a seat," he gestured.
Max cautiously slipped into the booth.
“I'm Sebastian," he said, extending his hand.
The two shook.
“I see you’ve met Felix,” he said.
Max squinted at him. “So, you knew Philip Harmon?”
“They have a really good cheeseburger here," he said. "Real beef."
Max flashed him an exasperated look. Sebastian saw that she wasn't interested in the cheeseburger.
"You want to tell me why I'm here?"
"Oh, yeah, of course. I just thought, maybe, you might be hungry. Never mind…"
Max's steely eyes pierced into him. He seemed a little nervous.
“And you're sure you weren't followed?”
“Positive."
“You should see somebody about your face. I know a really good doctor, if you need one. He’s discrete."
Max was getting frustrated and Sebastian could see that.
“Let me just get to the point.”
“Please.”
“Yes. I knew Phil Harmon. He was a good friend. I used to work for Robo-Dynamics.”
Max’s stern glare softened a bit. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
"We worked together on the neural processing code for the latest generation of robots. The XR-809s. Phil found something in the code."
Sebastian had gotten Max's attention. Her eyes widened. “What did you find?”
“I just want to say, Phil wasn’t always a junkie. If you ask me, I think they got him hooked so as to discredit him.”
“Who’s they?”
Sebastian shrugged. “You know, them.”
Max was tired of riddles. “What did he find in the code?”
“A zero day. It's a backdoor into the system. It wasn't a vulnerability, necessarily… It was deliberately placed. And it required a passcode to access."
“You're sure this wasn't just a bug in the software?"
“Positive. And it wasn't in the software. It was in the hard code."
A look of concern washed over Max's face. "Are you saying that someone could change the basic behavioral coding of the robots by essentially pushing through a firmware update?”
“That's exactly what I'm saying. The behavioral inhibitors could be removed. The robots could be programmed to commit violent acts against humans."
Max’s jaw dropped. “That’s supposed to be impossible.”
“I know.”
“And you're saying this was placed deliberately by Robo-Dynamics?"
Sebastian nodded.
Max was astonished. She pondered the larger implications of the security flaw. Robots had been banned from military use. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that it was a bad idea to have armed autonomous robots with an aptitude for murder—especially when they had no compunction about killing humans.
"Phil discovered the code. I think that's why he was killed. I've been in hiding ever since. I want you to know I’m taking a big risk by meeting you here and telling you this."
“How did you find me?”
“I have my ways.”
Max rolled her eyes. “Why are you waiting until now to contact me?”
“I wanted to see if you could be trusted.”
“So what makes you think you can trust me?"
“When you threw that guy off the balcony, I was pretty sure you weren't working for Robo-Dynamics."
“W
hat made you so sure?”
“Because Eddie Pipes was.”
“How do you know that?” Max asked.
“I know a lot of things. I know he’s been following you for days. Did you notice the black Celectra tailing you?”
“Of course.”
“Eddie Pipes,” Sebastian said. “I’m really good with code. Not as good as Phil. But not bad. It’s a skill that comes in handy. I hacked into the communication system. That’s how I was able to keep track of you. I hacked into your phone.”
Max's eyes narrowed at him.
“Don't worry, I didn't rummage through your pictures or your private data.”
Max wasn't pleased about the invasion of privacy, but she was going to let it slide this time. “Somebody had wiped Phillip's computer at his apartment. There was no data on it whatsoever."
“Phil told me he had implemented a fix to the zero day. A code that could be delivered wirelessly, eliminating the vulnerability. I'm sure the corporation would do anything to get their hands on it and destroy it."
“Do you have any evidence to back this theory of yours up?”
"If I had any evidence, I would have gone to the cops.”
“And you're sure about this zero day? There's no way you could have mistaken this for something else?"
“I'm not mistaken. It's a way to militarize these robots. We're talking millions of robots throughout the Federation. They would become, perhaps, the largest standing army in the galaxy. At the flick of a switch, they would all be under the control of Elon Orlov.”
A grim look washed over Max’s face as she pondered the gravity of the situation. “Anton Orlov was adamant about robotic safety.”
“Well, he's not around anymore," Sebastian said, dryly. "And things definitely changed at the company after his demise."
“And you think Elon is behind this?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I don't know. But someone high up in the company is.” Sebastian paused for a moment. “Look, you've got to find the zero code. And you've got to use it to close the zero day.”
“How do I close the zero day?”
“From the uplink at Robo-Dynamics. It’s the only way to send the code that the bots will respond to. Each transmission has an authentication packet that matches the encryption key within the robots’ hardcode.”
“Where can I find the code?" Max asked.
“Phil always mirrored his data. He's got a backup somewhere. You need to go back to the apartment and look again.”
“There's nothing there."
“Maybe you missed it.”
“I didn't miss anything," Max growled.
Felix meowed.
They both glanced to the frisky feline who was trying to nose into the conversation.
A small glimmer of hope flickered in Sebastian’s eyes. “Time spent with cats is never wasted.”
“What?”
“It's Freud. Phil used to quote it all the time. Check Felix’s collar.”
Max looked at the diamond studded nameplate that dangled around Felix’s neck. Behind it was a small data drive affixed to the tag. “Bingo!”
“That’s got to be it.”
Several men wearing ski masks piled into the diner, brandishing plasma pistols. One of them discharged his weapon into the ceiling. Debris showered down, and the impact left a smoldering crater. The sharp scent of plasma ions filled the air. Smoke wafted from the barrel. “Nobody move, this is a robbery!”
22
"Everybody be calm, and this will all be over with quickly,” the leader of the crooks shouted. He was taller and beefier than the rest of them. “Stay still and don't do anything stupid and nobody gets hurt. Heroes are zeros!”
The crooks fanned out through the diner. One of them moved to the cash register and harassed the clerk. The rest of them moved from booth to booth, collecting wallets, jewelry, watches, and anything else of value.
Max clenched her jaw as she eyed the thieves. The patrons were terrified. Max contemplated her plan of action. But she wasn't really in any condition to fight.
"You know the drill," a thug said as he stepped to Max's booth. "Hand over your valuables. Don't hold anything back. If you hold something back it's going to piss me off and I'm going to have to make an example of you." He gazed at Max's bruised face. "And by the looks of you, someone already gave you a pretty good beating."
"Not near as bad a beating as I'm going to give you," Max muttered.
The thug jammed the plasma pistol in her face. "What did you say?" He knew damn good and well what she said.
Max bit her tongue. It was an uncharacteristic move.
"Hand over the valuables. Now. Before I make your face look even more fucked up than it already is."
Max glared at him. If her eyes were lasers, he'd have been incinerated. She dug into her pocket and put some credits on the table.
He surveyed her for rings and jewelry, but Max didn't wear any. "That's it?”
“That’s it,” she said, casually.
“Fork over your mobile.”
Max glared at him.
“Do it.”
Max dug her fingers into her pocket and pulled out her mobile phone with great discomfort. She tossed it onto the table.
The thug scooped the loot into a bag. Then he turned his attention to Sebastian. "You. Hand it over."
Sebastian complied, tossing his mobile device, as well as a few credits onto the table.
“You people are pathetic," the goon said, not satisfied with his bounty. He continued to survey Max and Sebastian, making sure they weren’t holding anything back. Felix’s diamond studded name tag caught the thief’s eye. "Hand over the kitty’s collar."
Felix meowed with disapproval.
"It's not worth anything,” Max protested.
"I said hand it over, lady."
"And I said go fuck yourself."
The thug’s eyes widened in disbelief. "Excuse me?"
“You heard me. I’ve been very cooperative so far. But you're starting to try my patience."
The thug’s finger tightened around the trigger. The barrel of the plasma pistol stared Max in the face.
“Is there a problem over there?" the leader yelled.
“Nothing I can’t handle," said the thug at Max's table. He turned his attention back to Max. "Let me take you to school for a minute. This is a Bösch-Hauer X795 plasma pistol. It fires ionized projectiles that burn at over a million degrees. It'll vaporize that face of yours in the blink of an eye. If you know what's good for you, you’ll give me the cat's collar."
Max had suffered enough of this fool. She knew more about the weapon he was holding than he did. With blistering speed, Max smacked the pistol with one hand, and the back of the goon’s wrist with the other. It knocked the weapon from his grasp before he could respond. In the blink of an eye, Max was in control of the weapon, and was aiming at the thug.
With tape wrapped around her index finger, she could barely fit it in through the trigger guard. She squeezed the trigger and blasted a hole in the goon. He flopped to the ground with a smoldering cavity in his torso. Charred bits of blood splattered the bar stool behind him.
Max angled around the corner of the booth and blasted two rounds at the leader. His skull vaporized in a crimson mist. His body flopped to the ground, oozing blood onto the black-and-white checkerboard tile. His body twitched for a few seconds afterward.
Several blistering plasma bolts streaked towards Max. She ducked behind the seat-back. One bolt impacted the booth. The other impacted the door to the restrooms behind her.
Max angled around the booth, taking aim. She fired two shots at one of the thugs hiding behind the bar counter at the other end of the restaurant. She caught him in the shoulder, vaporizing his arm. He screamed in agony and crumpled to the ground alongside the remains of his severed arm.
Max lined up the last thug in her sights. She fired twice as he ducked behind a booth. A moment later, he angled his weapon around the booth and
returned fire.
Max popped up and took aim. But a searing bolt tore through the seat-back of the booth, drilling into her chest. The impact knocked her back against the table, and she flopped to the ground.
The last remaining thief darted out the door with a bag of loot.
Max writhed in agony on the ground. She gasped for breath, feeling like someone had jammed a hot poker into her rib cage. The projectile had plowed through her intercostal space, incinerating part of the lower lobe of her lung. She had a grizzly exit wound in her back.
The intense heat had cauterized the wound. There wasn't much bleeding. But she felt like she was drowning on dry land. She squirmed in pain, not far from the body of the thief she had previously shot.
Sebastian knelt down beside her, but he really didn't know what to do. “Somebody call emergency services!”
But nobody had a phone handy. They had all been confiscated by the criminals and stuffed in bags. Sebastian dug into the thief’s bag of loot by Max and searched for his mobile. He pulled out the device and his shaky hands attempted to call emergency services.
23
“You look like shit,” Lockwood said.
“Thanks,” Max muttered. “That's what every girl wants to hear." She was barely conscious as an EMT placed an oxygen mask over her face.
A horde of uniformed officers worked the crime scene. Red and blue lights cascaded in through the windows of the diner. Officers took statements from the patrons. The coroner examined the bodies. A crime scene photographer scanned a 3D image of the entire premises. The police would be able to re-create the crime scene later in a computer model with stunning accuracy.
Two EMTs, Roland and Glen, transferred Max to a gurney. Roland activated the device. It lifted from the ground, hovering above the floor at waist level.
Glen used his PDU to scan Max’s body as they pushed her out of the diner. It displayed a 3D image of her underlying structures in real time—bones, soft tissue, vascular and nervous systems.
Roland injected Max’s arm with a regenerative compound.