by Jaxon Reed
Wilcox said, “Also, snap some pictures of the stiffs before everybody gets there. Let’s send them to Goodman and tweak his nose a little.”
The droid smiled.
-+-
Griff Goodman leaned forward in an easy chair of his own, much more luxurious than the one in Wilcox’s apartment.
One of his live-in maids wearing an indentured servant’s biocollar rubbed his shoulders, her fingers kneading his flesh.
He had paid a considerable premium for this particular young woman at the auction house when he bought her contract.
She seemed agreeable enough. All the indents were available for questioning and inspection before the bidding began, and this one had seemed compliant, even happy to be of service to whoever might obtain her.
The bidding went sky high when the auctioneer brought her out.
Goodman won the auction and took her home, vowing to remain careful and not trigger the collar’s consent safeguards.
Evidently, some bad characters in the League figured out a way to hack the biocollars. Some pirates waylaid a League ship during the war carrying hundreds of indents, mostly women, who were given collars without agreeing to take them.
That incident caused an uproar when news of it spread through the Republic. Everyone felt righteously outraged those barbarians would abuse the system like that.
Eventually people in the League presumably found out about it too, although the last two quadrants may still be under a news quarantine as far as Goodman knew. The League was notorious for censoring anything deemed unfavorable to the tetrarchs.
Meanwhile on Diego, the powers that be assured the public that the indent system remained working properly in the Republic. Auction houses stayed open, and business picked up after the treaty was signed.
Goodman had the money to buy the contracts of the most attractive young women showing up on the auction block, and he often did. He knew how to work the system on the biocollars’ consent protocols, too. It took a while, he thought, but the payoff was worth it.
Besides, he enjoyed a challenge. He picked up a new indent every few months to start over, seeing how quickly he could gain their consent. This particular one would likely be a record. He bought her contract only a few days ago, and already she was very compliant.
“That’s feels good, darlin’. Rub a little to the right. Ahhh.”
Back rubs are always a significant step in the right direction, he thought.
His implant sent a signal to his mind’s eye for an incoming call. He accepted the connection.
“Yeah, Gus. What you got?”
“It’s not Gus.”
Goodman’s eyes opened and his blood chilled at the sound of that familiar female voice.
She said, “I’m just using his implant so you’d take the call.”
“How . . . You can’t . . . How did you do that?“
He waved off the indent and she dutifully stopped rubbing his back.
“Got some pictures for you. Here’s Gus. Or, what’s left of him at least.”
She showed him a particularly gruesome picture of a bloody body covered in fire retardant.
“Here’s another one. Sorry about his arm. It went missing. You had a couple of hacked robots, too. They’re in pieces.”
The pictures changed, each one showing death, dismemberment and destruction.
“You know, all of this is highly illegal, Mr. Goodman. You still have those fancy lawyers on retainer? I’m sure you can afford them.”
“Now, look. Let’s not forget our conversation . . .”
“Oh, I remember our conversation. However, it appears these guys worked for a company that is controlled by you. Multi-World Movers. Why would a moving company man like Gus have you in his contact list? You haven’t moved lately.”
She showed another picture of Gus, blood splattered everywhere.
“Anyway, I would say this falls outside our agreement. Wouldn’t you? You’ve violated the spirit, if not the letter, of our verbal commitment.”
“Now, look . . . Let’s just calm down for a minute.”
“Oh, I’m perfectly calm. But you have attacked my home.”
That statement was the final straw. Goodman lost it. He did not care if she was provoking him, that comment went too far.
He said, “You attacked mine, you bitch! You broke down my door and ransacked the place!”
“Well, get ready Griff. Because you just declared war on the AOJ!”
The connection ended abruptly.
Goodman sat back in his chair, a distraught look on his face.
“Are you alright, sir?”
The pretty indent reached over the back of his chair to continue rubbing his shoulders.
“Get your hands off me!”
She turned and meekly left the room, new barriers building in her consent protocol as she walked away.
With no one left to talk to, Goodman muttered to himself.
“How did that woman take down three armed men and two bots? It’s just not possible. I sent an overwhelming force . . .”
Briefly he considered who else he could send after her. Could he gather a small army, maybe?
Then he remembered her threat. His face dropped with a sudden realization.
He said, “I better strengthen the defenses on this place.”
36
Three cars landed on a rooftop in Eastside about the same time.
The sun peeked over buildings from the east, promising another fine day with a heavy dollop of heat.
Collier arrived first and waited by the access door as Boggs and Jamieson parked their vehicles.
She smiled while they exited and walked toward her, but her gaze lingered on Jamieson.
As they approached, he said, “I think they could make a killing offering that time machine to students. You know the obsessive studying type? They could send them back and let them study longer.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Boggs said. “You’re only watching the past in the present for the same length of time. You don’t gain any advantage. So, if the test is tomorrow and you spend a day in the past, your present self spends a corresponding day observing.”
“Oh, dang. You’re right. So, the way to sell it to students is tell them if they fail an exam they can go back and retake it.”
“That doesn’t work, either. You don’t replace your past self when you show up. It’s just your clone. The only way that might work is if your clone, supposedly armed with new knowledge since failing the exam, intercepted your original self going in and said, ‘I know all the answers. Let me go instead.’ But, you’d remember that and your clone would be taking the test instead of you, thus depriving you of the exam knowledge for your future self to transmit to the clone. It’s the classic paradox, same as killing an ancestor.”
“Fine. It’s unmonetizable. You’ve ruined it for everybody, Boggs. Good morning, Ethie.”
“Hi you two. You’re experts at time travel now?”
“It’s best used as a tourist device,” Boggs said. “You can let people go back to historical events and see them in person. For a hefty fee, of course.”
Jamieson said, “Yeah, but what if they interfere? What if they changed history while their clone was in the past?”
“They wouldn’t be able to change any old history,” Collier said. “It would have to be since the machine was turned on. But if something happens now that was worth watching . . . Maybe Dr. Hsu should reset it so only the ocular part works. Make it so users could only observe events and not interfere with them.”
“I think the clones were a way around the problem of getting the ocular part to move around,” Jamieson said.
“Oh, you’re right. I remember Dr. Hsu saying something about that.”
They smiled at each other.
Boggs frowned because he had the distinct impression he was being left out of the conversation now. And it was one he had started.
He said, “Time to go inside.”
The inner door opened for them and Wilcox looked up from her desk, already at work.
She said, “You all had an eventful day yesterday. I read your reports.”
Boggs said, “Time travel’s awesome, Sarge. You ought to try it before they shut things down.”
Gina snorted.
“I’ve got enough on my plate without creating an unintentional existential crisis.”
Boggs frowned at the odd use of the phrase.
He said, “How would . . .?”
Wilcox talked over his question.
She said, “The Meisters sent a hit team after me last night. Not here, I don’t think anyone knows about this place yet. They came to my old address. Director Fonteneaux found out and we set a trap. We took out three perps and two load bots reconfigured to kill.”
“Load bots?” Jamieson said. “I bet those were hard to put down.”
“Fortunately, I had weapons that could handle them. I sort of declared war on the Burgomeisters afterward. I may or may not have had a nasty conversation with Griff Goodman.”
Collier said, “I’m surprised he picked up.”
“He didn’t know it was me calling.”
“Well, to add to your plate, ma’am, we have a huge concern about the Storm woman.”
“Ah, yes. The mysterious Ginger Storm.”
Wilcox pulled up a holosheet and read the information hovering before her face.
She said, “So, your report indicated an employee at Republican Shipworks tried to give her information in the past?”
“We think he succeeded, ma’am,” Collier said. “He shot both our clones. Mortie made a second attempt with another clone and shot him, but Bainer’s body . . . his clone’s body . . . did not get ported away before Mortie went down.”
Boggs said, “Yeah, and in real life back in the present he told us we were too late. Well, he told Jamie that after Jamie shot him in present time.”
Jamieson said, “Yeah. His wife didn’t take that too well. That part about me shooting him. Never mind he shot at us first and hurt Ethie.”
They all turned to look at Collier. She touched her middle self-consciously, her hand resting on the bandage under her clothes.
She said, “I’m fine. Really.”
“That leaves us with two questions,” Wilcox said. “One, where is Ginger Storm now? Two, what of any significance did Mr. Bainer tell her four years ago that could possibly make things better for the League?”
For this, the other three had no answer.
Wilcox said, “I was up late last night after submitting my own report on the Meister’s attack.”
Actually, the droid submitted that report, a very straightforward account of what happened. Gina simply glanced it over to make sure everything appeared legitimate before allowing the droid to submit it.
She said, “Honestly, Ginger Storm and the time traveling part concern me more than the Meisters right now. Over the course of the war she spent considerable time and money setting up an electronic reflection field for this whole neighborhood. She did not become overly active until recently. It’s as if someone told her what to expect. And evidently, Bainer did just that.”
Everyone now carried thoughtful expressions on their faces.
Wilcox said, “This tells me that Ginger Storm is about to do something big. Something she’s been preparing for years to do. Something that would help the League out, even though the war is over.”
“It would have to be something he knew would happen, or was going to happen soon,” Collier said.
“That’s right,” Boggs said. “And, it probably hasn’t happened yet. Because nothing like that has happened recently. But Bainer must have known it would happen, and he told her about it.”
“I want to show you something from yesterday that occurred while you all were cavorting around in the past,” Wilcox said.
She made a motion and another holo appeared.
Jamieson said, “Looks like the main bus terminal.”
“It is. It’s surveillance footage. Watch the man there.”
Blood blossomed on his back and he went down to the floor. A bit of blood seemed to float above him before dropping down and rubbing on his shirt.
Wilcox paused the playback.
“What you just saw, I think, was a stabbing by someone using a personal camo unit.”
Boggs said, “What’s that?”
“It’s about what you’d expect. A high tech device that lets an individual walk around invisibly. We . . . the Resistance used them in the war. They were developed by the League and a few got out. We know for a fact the Black Goggles Gang had camo units for their vehicles. That’s how they escaped from police after their heists. They tipped their hand later on when they grew desperate for money. This victim, by the way, is a known black market arms dealer. His place burned down recently.”
Wilcox stood and took a deep breath.
She said, “So, here’s what we know. Storm has stolen and spent a huge sum of money, recently escalating her efforts. She has invested most of it in high tech weaponry. Finally, she has evidently killed her arms supplier by using one of his own devices. Even if I didn’t have an idea of who was using it, it’s very disturbing knowledge that somebody out there has a camo unit. Most of our alarm systems are not prepared to handle that level of technology. The spaceport is, for vehicles anyway, but that’s about it.”
Collier said, “So if she’s ready, and she knows what’s going to happen in the near future . . . what is it? What’s going to happen that she can take advantage of with foreknowledge?”
Boggs turned to another holo playing in the corner.
He said, “Hey, look on the news. Turn it up.”
Gina made a motion in the air and the volume on the holo increased.
“. . . later today. And this will be the first big rally of the election season, kicking off Admiral Severs’ campaign with the public endorsement of him by Chancellor Cole. Events will begin at noon in Anderson Stadium . . .”
Wilcox muted the sound.
She said, “That could be it. The itinerary for this event was posted publicly two days ago.”
Jamieson said, “If she wants to assassinate Admiral Severs, she’ll know where he’s going to be. And it won’t be a body double or anything. She knows exactly when he’s speaking.”
Wilcox looked back at the holo, watching the newscast.
She said, “We need to be at that rally. Or at least, I need to be there.”
Boggs said, “You think you can stop her, Sarge?”
Wilcox nodded.
She said, “Let’s just say I have a way of detecting camo units.”
37
“We are live at Anderson Stadium in Octavia Park, Planet Diego! Chancellor Cole has called for elections two months from now, and today officially kicks off the campaign season. She is expected to submit her hand-picked successor as the Libertarian nominee for Chancellor, Admiral Frederick Severs.”
“That’s right, Suzanne! This is the major event of the year for the Libertarians. They are joined with their longtime allies in Parliament, the Conservatives, and a handful of smaller parties such as Producers and Merchants.
“As you know, the Planetary Republic is based on the British system of government, with some American style elements. While local members of parliament are elected by precincts, the Chancellor is someone everyone can vote on.”
“You’re right about that, John! Severs and the Libertarians are expected to face strong opposition from the Progressives this time around. We expect to hear an announcement later tonight from the man who will be their candidate for Chancellor, Dermot Kruger . . .”
The artificial anchors continued their banter, showing in public holos surrounding the eight main entrances to the giant stadium.
Used mainly for soccer, the center also hosted cricket matches, American-style footbal
l and baseball games, as well as a variety of other events such as concerts and political rallies.
All local politicians from any party remotely affiliated with the Libertarians were there, from all over Diego and other planets. The Producers and Merchants party, which was strongest on the mostly agrarian planet of Pearl, showed up with heavy representation.
The Conservatives were relatively weak on most Republican planets, but they maintained a solid presence on all of them unlike some other parties. Their combined numbers in Parliament traditionally served to cement the Libertarian coalitions that had steadily guided the Republic for the last 50 years or so.
“You know, I’ve never paid much attention to politics before,” Severs said, walking alongside Chancellor Cole.
They made their way out of an elevator pod and through the tunnel that would bring them out to the main stage set up on the north side of the playing field.
“You’ll do fine,” Cole said, smiling cheerfully at him.
“It seems to me the Libertarians and Conservatives should join as one party. We’ve formed coalitions the last several sessions. Why not make it official?”
She stopped inside the entrance and looked up at him.
They were hidden in shadow, and the noise from the hundred thousand strong crowd drifted in. A speaker, a local politician from Diego, stood at the dais facing the crowd explaining how the Libertarians planned to lead the Republic forward in the next few years.
Another man, a stage manager, hovered just inside the entrance. He held a hand out toward them, making the party stop. He would direct them to the stage at the appropriate moment, presumably when the current speaker finished his speech.
“I’ll be honest with you, Fred,” Cole said.
She glanced at the two armed AOJ agents in front of them, and the two walking behind. All the men and women on the security detail pretended to be ignoring the conversation, as they were trained. The stage manager likewise was not paying them attention, focused on the speaker instead.
As far as Cole knew, her security detail had never revealed anything they overheard. It hardly mattered now, since she was winding down her career. In two months she would retire for good. Maybe somebody would write a tell-all exposé on her time in Harrington House, although those were mostly frowned upon and considered to be in poor taste.