Solar Storm (Galaxy Mavericks Book 5)

by Michael La Ronn

  The only thing he could do to minimize the pain was to think of nothing.

  The door opened and a middle-aged detective in a rain-slicked black trench coat and fedora walked in. He rapped the table with his knuckle as he passed. Then he took off his coat and hat and draped then against the back of his chair. He wore a white shirt, black tie, and a handcoil on a shoulder holster. He put his hands on his hips, looked Smoke up and down, and then he whistled.

  Smoke ignored him and stared ahead.

  “I'm special agent Ryan Miller with GALPOL. Unlike my friends here at the CPD, I play by a different set of rules. You ever heard of GALPOL, buddy?”

  Smoke shook his head.

  The response surprised Miller, but the man tried not to show it. He turned around and paced the room.

  “So what kind of backwater galaxy are you from that you haven't heard of GALPOL?”

  Smoke shrugged.

  “Any other criminal sitting in your chair right now would be crying,” Miller said. “Come on, cut the bullshit. You know who we are.”

  Smoke shrugged again.

  “Let me jog your memory, then: how about mandatory minimum sentences automatically because we’re involved. If we find you guilty, of course, which we will. Or, the fact that even if you somehow manage to scurry out of here, you're going to be in our database for the rest of your life, and we’re going to come and pay you regular visits.”

  Smoke shrugged yet again.

  “You know you're going to die, right?” Miller asked. “No jury in the short arm of this galaxy is going to have any mercy on you, buddy.”

  Silence.

  Smoke drowned out the man’s words and blinked several times.

  Miller banged the table and leaned in toward Smoke.

  “So I'm going to ask you again, and if I don't get the answers I'm looking for, I’m going to have a problem and trust me when I say that I'm not the kind of guy you want to have a problem with. Here we go, buddy: what is your name?”

  Smoke fidgeted in his chair. Miller didn't take his gaze off him.

  “My name,” Smoke said quietly, “is fuck you.”

  Miller’s eyes widened. He banged the table again.

  Then the special agent began to laugh. First quietly, then long and loud. He leaned against the wall, rested his head against his elbow. He was laughing so hard his forehead was sweating.

  Smoke said nothing.

  And then, as if it were all an act, Miller stopped laughing and put on his angry face again.

  “Okay, Mr. Fuck You,” Miller said, “That’s not the first time I've heard that. I'm just glad you didn't spit at me.”

  Smoke spat at Miller and struck the wall near him.

  “Great, now we can add a charge for assault of a police officer to your charges.”

  Miller banged on the door.

  A young woman in a polo and jeans entered with a thick suitcase in her hand. Her hair was tied back with a headband.

  “This is Margot Drewery,” Miller said. “She's a GALPOL engineer. Open the suitcase, would you, Margot?”

  Margot opened the suitcase. She pulled out a tablet. Neatly bundled across the inside of the suitcase were wires. Attached to the wires were metal clips.

  Cybernetic interface clips.

  Smoke moved his hands against the latches. But the metal held him.

  “Ah, so that gets a response,” Miller said.

  Margot took a clip into her hand.

  “One last time,” Miller said. “What the hell is your name?”

  Smoke’s eyes narrowed at the sight of the clip in Margot’s hand.

  He stuttered.

  He wanted to say his name.

  But his lips wouldn't move.

  He willed them to move, but they wouldn't.

  He couldn't say anything.

  He tried and tried and tried, but he could only hear himself yelling in his head.

  I don't know!

  I don't know!

  “Do it,” Miller said.

  In a rapid motion, Margot attached the clip to the circuit inside his temple. An electric shock jolted through Smoke’s head and his entire body went rigid as Margot took the tablet and began typing into it.

  “He's immobilized,” Margot said.

  Lines of code streamed across the tablet screen.

  Smoke wanted to break free of the latches, but he was thoroughly stuck.

  Miller leaned in again.

  “Don't worry,” he said. “I have a warrant. Now let’s get some answers to my questions,” he said.

  6

  “Damn, he's rigid as a stake,” Miller said.

  Smoke locked up. His eyes didn't even blink.

  In a way, it was a relief not to have to talk to him anymore.

  Margot looked at the code and tried to make sense of it. Miller peered over her shoulder.

  “I certainly have never seen anything like this, Ryan,” she said. She pinched some of the code and zoomed in.

  He'd never worked with her before, but she was pleasant. Not bad to look at, either. Not like the other engineers, who were usually guys, geeks, and weirdoes who spoke as if they were raised by circuits. Nothing they ever said made any damned sense. Those weren't the kind of guys you wanted to gallivant in front of a cold-blooded criminal. Margot had a light air about her, an innocence. Miller wondered if she'd ever seen a dead body in person.

  “When you say you haven't seen anything like it, do you mean computer code, period or just this kind of code?” Miller asked.

  “This kind of code,” Margot said. The computer code lit up against her smooth face, illuminating her blond hair. “It's incredibly elaborate. The language is familiar though, even though you can tell it's handmade.”

  “Handmade?”

  “We just don't see many cyborgs,” Margot said. “Every one we encounter is a treat. But in order to interface nerves with circuit, you need an intermediary code. Computer language as we know it won't do. And with the ban, we've never experienced the true potential of what a cyborg interface could look like.”

  It was true. Cyborgs and cybernetic body modifications were banned under the GALPOL Accords. Every planet in the galaxy agreed to it. Too many possibilities for human rights violations. Was a cyborg a human? Or was it a robot? And at what point did a robot have rights?

  But clearly, someone violated the Accords in creating this guy.

  And Miller was going to find them.

  “Any luck?” Miller asked.

  “I'm almost in,” Margot said.

  “Then it sounds like you need a coffee because we’re going to be here a while when you bust in.”

  “Decaf,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “You got it,” Miller said, starting for the door.

  The tablet chimed.

  She looked up at him and smiled.

  “I spoke too soon,” she said. “I'm downloading his specs now.”

  Miller opened the door and stepped out quickly.

  “Then I guess I'd better run for that decaf.”

  7

  Product Specifications

  Concerning Experiment Number 2.24-7

  Date: [encrypted]

  Location: [encrypted]

  Creator: [encrypted]

  WARNING: By accessing this data you are putting yourself in danger. We will come find you. And we will destroy you. We do not tolerate such an act of espionage lightly.

  Keep reading and you will find more details that will only spell your doom.

  Do you wish to continue?

  Yes.

  Are you sure you wish to continue?

  Yes.

  …

  ……

  We have detected your location.

  You will be found.

  We will be sending a ship to meet you.

  Peruse this data as you wish. It will be your last decision.

  …

  ……

  …….

  Product Name: “Smo
ke”

  Real Name: [Purged]

  Height: 6’5”

  Weight: 254 lbs

  Bone density: 2.5 as opposed to the norm of 1.0, infused with organic metal alloy. Spine has been lengthened and the cranium has been reinforced.

  Blood type: O positive, changed via enzyme. Formerly A.

  Cybernetic implants: one in each temple, one drilled into the occipital bone below each eye. For access, use copper conduit cables.

  Narrative: Product is a human who was discovered in the rubble of [purged] in the aftermath of the [purged]. Deadly traces of [purged] found in bloodstream. Determined to be the perfect candidate for Solar Storm Project. Product was hydrated, nourished, and brought up to baseline vitals on [purged] before tests began.

  Medical history (in order of occurrence):

  [Date purged]: Skin graft. Hands and feet.

  [Date purged]: Skin graft. Torso.

  [Date purged]: Skin graft. Head.

  [Date purged]: Graft vs. host infection. Product coded twice before revival.

  [Date purged]: Additional graft. No concerns.

  [Date purged]: Bleaching of the fingernails.

  [Date purged]: Bleaching of the eyes. Retina replacement.

  [Date purged]: Complete dental replacement.

  [Date purged]: Metallic alloy infusion of the spine.

  [Date purged]: Spinal fusion. Cyber integration. Tester was able to activate product’s left and right arms via a remote connection. Dexterity was good enough that product fired a gun and struck a bullseye on a target two hundred feet away.

  [Date purged]: Metallic alloy implemented into the phalanges and metatarsals.

  [Date purged]: After one year of recovery, product utters first successful word: “Who.”

  [Date purged]: Product learns to crawl. Difficulty adjusting to bendable metallic spine. Undergoes surgery for us to machine C1,C2 and L4 to give him greater range of motion.

  [Date purged]: Product walks successfully.

  [Date purged]: Regression. Product calls out names from his past. Begs for a certain [purged]. Guards sedate him, but sedatives do not work. Product is muzzled, tied to steel wall with titanium chains.

  [Date purged]: Product refuses to eat and is treated for inanition.

  [Date purged]: Product asks to die. Request denied.

  [Date purged]: Product begs for death again. Given morphine, antidepressants, and hydrocodone for the pain.

  [Date purged]: Medication modification unsuccessful. Suicidal thoughts. Product breaks free and attempts to kill itself.

  [Date purged]: Consultation with [purged] who recommended experimental option.

  [Date purged]: Product’s suicidal thoughts continue. We are unable to control with medication.

  [Date purged]: Permission received to begin experimental procedure.

  [Date purged]: Product prepared for surgery.

  [Date purged]: Product undergoes successful frontal lobotomy. Nanotechnology is used to target only the necessary nerve connections. Product experiences diarrhea, incontinence, and vomiting for three days. Then a remarkable docility is observed, and a willingness to obey orders where there was no willingness before. Cybernetic implants are also installed.

  [Date purged]: Product volunteers to perform menial tasks.

  [Date purged]: System update to ocular nerves and central nervous system via cybernetic implants, which are switched on. Breakthrough in our in-house memory construction and deconstruction. Product can no longer speak without synapses activating preprogrammed responses. Product able to predominantly perform head nods, shrugs, and shakes. Unless access code of [purged] is administered, product will be quiet and emotionless. In the event access code is administered, product will experience extreme chemical imbalance unless careful medication is applied. Destroy if activated.

  8

  “I’m not scrolling too fast, am I?” Margot asked.

  “You’re not scrolling fast enough,” Miller said.

  Miller read the product specifications in horror. When Margot swiped two fingers again and reached the end of the document, the last words lingered.

  Destroy if activated.

  “What do you recommend?” Margot asked.

  Miller folded his arms and paced around the room. Smoke was still immobilized and unblinking.

  “Do you think the warnings at the beginning were idle threats?” Margot asked.

  “Don’t know,” Miller said, pulling out his phone.

  The Galactic Navy.

  “Guard Station,” a voice answered.

  “Hey listen, this is Ryan Miller at GALPOL. I’m conducting a murder investigation here on Coppice—I’m sure you’ve seen it by now. Listen, I have reason to belief that the planet may soon come under attack by an unknown ship. Can you send a few ships to make me feel better about digging deeper into this matter?”

  There was silence at the other end.

  “And no, I’m not kidding,” Miller said.

  “I will page the admiral,” the voice said.

  “Tell him to call me at this number if he has questions. This is a major emergency, all right?”

  Miller tossed his phone into his pocket.

  “I got a few fleet ships coming,” Miller said. “If that message is true, they’ll catch the bastards before they get to us.”

  “Hope so,” Margot said, swallowing.

  “What else can you find in there?”

  “You’re not going to believe this,” Margot said, incredulous, “but I think I can access his memories.”

  “Get out of here.”

  “That’s the thing about cybernetic organisms. The theory is that when you fuse organisms with computers, that there has to be a mutual connection between the two.”

  “So can you hook up the memories to a television screen? I’m thinking we can watch all the murders and close this damned case, then.”

  Miller smiled at the thought of being able to go home a hero and get some more sleep.

  “Not quite,” Margot said.

  Miller frowned.

  “I can decrypt them, but I can only see them laid out as data points.”

  She showed him a scatterplot of dots on the tablet. She pointed to a blue outlier near the top left.

  “This is an outlier,” she said. “If we examine it further…”

  She tapped the dot and a spectrum of waves and colors appeared. It reminded Miller of a polygraph, but not quite.

  “Geesh. What the hell is that?”

  “This is the data itself. While we won’t be able to see anything, we’ll at least be able to chart his geographic location down to the time, which may help your investigation, right?”

  “I guess,” Miller said. “How long?”

  “I’m decoding the memories now,” she said. “We’ll work our way backwards.”

  Miller glanced at Smoke and gave him a disapproving nod.

  “I told you I would get my answers from you whether you liked it or not, buddy.”

  Smoke stared ahead.

  “First memory downloaded,” Margot said.

  Smoke’s head twitched. His entire body exploded into a sudden jolt. But he still did not blink.

  “Electrical impulses,” Margot said.

  Miller waved a hand in front of Smoke. The cyborg didn’t respond.

  “All right, Margot,” Miller said. “I’m taking a leap of faith with you. Don’t let me down.”

  Smoke twitched again.

  Miller sat and watched the data stream across the tablet.

  9

  Smoke lay on his stomach.

  He was on the gravel roof of the service hangar.

  The air was balmy. The rainforest swayed in the remnants of thunderstorm winds.

  The gravel rubbed against his chest.

  Above, a box-like spaceship broke through the clouds and began its decent toward the tarmac. Smoke watched the ship with curiosity as it lumbered downward.

  He tapped his cybernetic implant. The time a
ppeared in ghost letters across the orange background of his visor.

  Right on time.

  He adjusted his rifle and looked into the optical sight, using it to look at his surroundings closer. He swept past service personnel chatting near the service hangar, past automated luggage carts zipping down the tarmac to meet the box ship, past a police car sitting near an electric fence, past the jet bridges, and across the tall windows of the spaceport pod where travelers waited quietly and anxiously for the flight.

  He zoomed in on several people, waiting for his visor to scan their faces.

  Negative match.

  Negative match.

  Negative match.

  He himself tried to remember the photo that he had been shown.

  The photo of his target.

  She was dark-skinned. Black hair tied up. Brown eyes the color of hazelnuts.

  As he kept scanning the travelers’ faces, he remembered a voice.

  “We want her dead,” it said. It had been a female.

  And whoever she was, she had annoyed him. It pained him that he couldn’t remember backwards. Only forwards.

  He kept scanning.

  And then his visor clicked as it scanned the face of a woman leaning against a wall near the departure screens.

  She wore a green rain jacket and sunglasses. She looked Indian. The visor measured her head and body proportions and then it clicked again.

  Positive match.

  Smoke grinned as he locked her in his visor. He kept his optical sight on her, studying her moves.

  She was nervous. Every few minutes she kept glancing at the clock on the wall. Her body faced the tarmac, and she looked as if she would be the first person to go running onto the spaceship.

  “We want her dead,” the voice said again.

  The box ship rolled to a stop on the tarmac and circular drone bots flew out of the service hangar to meet it, loading and unloading luggage and refueling the ship. A line of passengers walked off the ship, onto the tarmac toward the inside of the spaceport pod.

  The woman watched the box ship intently now, her hands in her pockets, her body shifting uncomfortably. She was ready to get out of there.