Maelstrom of Treason

by Michael Anderle

  “I didn’t plan on beating anyone up,” Jia insisted. “It just worked out that way. I was hoping those idiots would understand reason, but I was reminded of something very important.”

  “Which is?” Erik asked.

  “That Uptown people aren’t any better than people in the Zone. The Zone might be rougher, but if you exclude the syndicates, it feels like the people are more polite.” Jia shook her head with a disgusted look on her face. “I doubt anyone would pull a stunt like that in the Zone, even if they weren’t worried about cops.”

  Erik nodded. “Sure, because they understand they might get shot or stabbed if they get out of line. They also understand the people who will enforce their behavior aren’t necessarily the cops. There’s a lot to be said for a punch veto over bad behavior.”

  “Peace through the threat of violence?” Jia raised an eyebrow in challenge. “Is that really a better way to run things?”

  Erik patted his holster. “In the end, that’s what gives us our authority, too. If the threat wasn’t there, some people might listen to us, but a lot of the nastier ones wouldn’t.”

  “True enough. Not like I’m one to talk. I’m usually carrying two guns.” Jia brushed her hand over the grips of her slugthrower and her stun pistol. “I wish they had gone out to the parking lot. Then I could have just stunned them and waited for the uniforms to arrive.”

  “Not every fight goes your way.”

  Natural sunlight streamed through the transparent doors at the entrance of the main hub. People cast curious glances their way, murmuring amongst themselves. Erik had long since gotten used to being recognized in Neo SoCal.

  Certain perks came with being a local hero, free food among them, even if the diner hadn’t provided it. He didn’t demand it, but he wasn’t going to turn it away if someone offered it either, especially a nice beignet.

  A door slid open as the detectives approached. They stepped out to the platform and the cloudless sky. Hundreds of flitters were parked nearby. Thousands flew above them, swarming the area like locusts.

  The ever-present towers of Neo SoCal surrounded them like fingers of gods stretching into the heavens.

  Jia stopped and stared at a tower, polishing off what was left of her toast. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes.

  “Is something wrong?” Erik asked. He looked in that direction but didn’t see anything other than flitters, and his eyes tracked in a circle as he checked their six. None flew erratically. There were no out-of-control drones or suspicious ships. It looked like normal, everyday Neo SoCal traffic.

  “Central Florida and Chang’e City,” Jia announced, her face blank. “That’s what I’m thinking about.”

  “Two places other than here we’ve had to take people down,” Erik observed. “They won’t be the last two, either. Why are you thinking about them all of a sudden?”

  Jia shook her head. “You’ve been all over the UTC, and you weren’t born and raised in Neo SoCal.” She stretched out an arm to point at the tower. “It doesn’t feel strange to you when you go somewhere and it’s not like this.” She swept her arm to indicate the other towers. “It still feels strange to me to be in cities that aren’t filled with these kinds of towers.

  “Most of humanity doesn’t live in places like this,” Erik observed.

  “I know, but it’s just odd. This entire metroplex might be flawed, but it’s also a testament to the power and ingenuity of humanity.”

  “And the dark side. Too many people sit in those towers, thinking that because they are special, they don’t have to care about anything or anyone else.”

  “I am aware. I’ll never forget.” Jia chuckled. “You can’t blame me for getting thoughtful. My entire life’s about to change again.” She continued walking, so Erik followed. “Spending decades flying around the UTC influenced you. Growing up here influenced me. I’m hoping our mutual influences will be useful once we’re both out in the colonies if we go there.”

  “I’m certain we’ll have to go,” Erik replied.

  Jia nodded. “I’m prepared.”

  “Detectives,” Emma announced. “Although this is a fascinating insight into your mutual personalities, there might be an issue.”

  Erik patted his stomach. “I’m still digesting my eggs. What’s the problem?”

  “Four men have approached my body,” Emma explained. “Their clothing suggests they are riders. My sensors suggest they’re unarmed, but they’re obviously waiting for you, based on their conversation. They verified it was your MX 60 by the transponder and then had a short if rousing debate about, ‘When to get Blackwell.’ I’ve borrowed a nearby drone to observe the wider area for possible reinforcements. I don’t see any custom mini-flitters that one might associate with rider gangs, and it wasn’t monitoring the area prior to their arrival, so I can’t state for certain where they came from.”

  “Riders with no guns?” Erik scoffed. “They could be there to keep me busy while a sniper takes me out.”

  “It would seem the more prudent assassination method. I’m attempting to seek out any possible assassins, but given the high number of vehicles, I can’t guarantee anything.” Emma sounded almost apologetic.

  “It’s fine. You won’t always be there to watch our backs. It’s good to keep in practice.”

  Jia frowned and reached for her gun. She stopped at Erik’s headshake.

  “Let’s not start anything until we know who they are,” he suggested. “There are too many people around here.”

  As if called by his words, a family emerged from a nearby flitter and headed toward the front doors. They were chattering about saving up for a non-clone pet.

  Erik waited until the family walked away to continue speaking. “We can’t be sure these riders aren’t using some kind of black-market tech to hide their weapons from detection.”

  “Maybe coming to a crowded area was the point,” Jia suggested. “They know we’ll be more restricted with civilians around.” She glanced over her shoulder at the receding family, but dozens of people wandered near them in the parking lot.

  “Don’t worry.” Erik offered her a merry grin. “I’m not dying in the parking lot of a commerce tower.” He continued walking. “Let’s go see what they have to say. Maybe they just want an autograph.”

  Jia and Erik traveled up the long rows of flitters and past other customers until they closed on the MX 60. Four men with visor helmets stood in front of the vehicle, all wearing jumpsuits with skulls. The outfits screamed rider gang, but it’d make no sense for them to try to make a move Uptown, where the police were quicker to respond. The Lady’s mercy ensured there was no one else in the immediate area.

  Fewer civilians meant more options.

  Erik slowed, keeping a grin on his face as he approached the four men. “Do you guys need something?”

  One of the men stepped forward and lifted the visor. A jagged scar ran between his eyes. Erik had seen criminals who purposely didn’t get medical treatment for wounds in an attempt to look tougher. He thought it just made them look stupid and shortsighted, but criminal riders weren’t known for their brilliance. He’d see how low their IQs were soon enough.

  “You Erik Blackwell?” the man asked in a thick accent. Erik couldn’t place it. The accent sounded like a strange combination of several different European accents. He’d never heard anything like it, even on the colonies.

  Erik pushed back his coat to reveal his badge. “Detective Erik Blackwell with the NSCPD, yeah. Again, do you guys need something?”

  “A lot of people in this town don’t like your attitude,” the rider replied. “And they don’t care that you’re a hotshot cop.”

  Jia snorted and squared her shoulders. “I don’t know if it’s something in the air the last couple of days, but threatening a police officer isn’t a good idea. You should turn around and leave before you do or say something you can’t take back.”

  “No one’s threatening a police officer.” The rider gestured to Eri
k. “We’re just saying he better watch himself, or he might trip. Trip and fall.”

  “Trip?” Jia echoed. “Huh?”

  Erik was having trouble parsing the threat too. Were they suggesting they were going to throw him off the platform? They were far from the edge and the grav fence. It didn’t make sense. There was no way they could attack him and pull his body over there without nearby drones recording the whole thing.

  He frowned. The helmets. They would prevent facial recognition.

  “Yeah,” another rider added, his accent sounding native to Neo SoCal. He nodded quickly. “H-he might fall in the shower and hit his head.”

  Erik abandoned his theory about them throwing him off the platform. He didn’t even know how to respond to that threat, if it was one. He took a step forward. The four men all stepped back.

  “I’ll be careful when I’m in the shower.” Erik raised his hands and slowly cracked his knuckles. “If you’re here to kick my ass, why don’t we get on with it, rather than have you stand here and warn me about all the ways I might get hurt?”

  “We could totally beat you up,” the first rider insisted. “You better watch it, Blackwell.”

  A third man pumped his fist in the air. “We could beat up your grandmother, too.”

  Erik eyed him. “My grandmother’s dead, idiot.”

  “Sorry. No. I mean, well…she’d…be easy to beat up then.” The rider nodded to punctuate his sentence and puffed out his chest like he’d accomplished a brilliant, masterful reply.

  “Huh. Okay, sure.” Erik looked at Jia and she shrugged, confusion covering her face. He returned his attention to the riders. No weapons, and one of them was outright trembling. Whoever was sending lackeys wasn’t sending his best. The men didn’t radiate trouble, they projected cowardice. That didn’t mean Erik was going to take their threat lightly.

  Reluctant soldiers remained dangerous.

  The first rider inclined his head toward the MX 60. “Maybe we should mess up your ride.” He reached into his pocket, the movement slow and methodical.

  “Emma, I thought you said they had no weapons?” Erik muttered, his hand drifting toward his holster. Jia also moved her hand toward her stun pistol.

  “They don’t,” she insisted.

  The rider’s fingers dipped into his pocket. Erik gripped his pistol but didn’t draw. The first man to produce a weapon would initiate an escalation no one could easily reverse. A small thin disk, not a weapon, came out of the rider’s pocket.

  “This will totally mess up your paint job,” the criminal insisted. “You’ll have such a bad day. The auto-repair systems can’t fix it easily.”

  Erik dropped his hand. Something was off; way off. Gunning these men down would feel like shooting some teen playing pranks, but they’d sought him out and obviously intended to try to intimidate him.

  Jia's face was pinched in pained confusion, but her hand remained on her stun pistol. She leaned toward him. “They’re wearing jumpsuits and helmets,” she whispered. “They could be doing that to hide that they’re Tin Men.”

  “That’s very unlikely, given my sensor readings,” Emma explained.

  Jia shrugged. “They might have found a way to spoof. As Erik said, they could be using black-market tech like Hui.”

  “Hey!” the first rider shouted. “What are you talking about? We’re menacing you here. We’re being nefarious. You can’t have side conversations when we’re being nefarious.”

  Erik couldn’t take it anymore. It was time for a little test. As Sun Tzu had said, subduing the enemy without fighting was the ultimate demonstration of strength.

  “Nefarious?” Erik belted out a harsh laugh. “Menacing? You want to talk about menacing?” He stomped toward the rider until they were face to face. The other man matched Erik’s size but not his bulk. The three other men scurried backward. Jia folded her arms and watched in silence, her face tight.

  “Y-yeah, menacing,” the rider stammered. “I’m the leader of the Screaming Skulls, one of the toughest rider gangs in the Shadow Zone. We haven’t messed with you before because you haven’t messed with us, but now we’re here to make a statement, Blackwell.”

  “You think you’re tough because you’re in a gang?” Erik asked.

  “I know I’m tough. I had to kill a man to take over the Skulls.”

  “Kill a man? That supposed to impress me? I spent thirty years in the Army fighting the UTC’s wars.” Erik’s voice came out as a growl, although he was trying to hold back a laugh. “Most of those years were spent in Assault Infantry. Do you know what it means to be Assault Infantry, Mr. Rider Badass?”

  “You shoot people with big guns?” the rider offered. His voice held a hint of awe.

  “It means you’re running around in exos, doing your damnedest to kill terrorists and rebels,” Erik answered. “If you’re lucky, you’re going to be able to land and get deployed, but if you’re not lucky, they’re going to stick you in a drop pod and launch from orbit into heavy enemy fire. Have you ever been dropped from orbit while the white-hot power of suns is compressed into tiny narrow beams? Those beams reaching into the heavens trying their best to pierce a paper-thin shell protecting you from the buffeting ride through an atmosphere refusing a simple, calm entry? You ever have to live through a screaming hell, waiting for the beam to cut through your body so you die before you even hit the ground?”

  “Uh, no,” the rider answered.

  “I saw action every year I was in the military. I lost my arm in Wolf’s Rebellion.” Erik leaned closer, and the rider stumbled back. “I’ve killed or blown up almost everything out there that you can kill, including Tin Men, gangsters, soldiers in exoskeletons, terrorists, giant security bots, yaoguai, and for that matter, riders.” His left hand curled into a fist, and he lifted it. “This is the arm I lost in the rebellion. Never had it grown back; kept a cybernetic replacement. I fought a Tin Man recently who found that out, but at least he had a chance because he had hardware. Any of you assholes have hardware? Any of you know what it feels like to be punched at full strength by a cybernetic arm?” He shot the man an evil grin. “It’ll be satisfying to hear the crunch as your bones break. You might survive, but it’s going to hurt real bad. You’ve all pissed me off, so you’re not getting away.”

  The rider fell to his knees. He whipped off his helmet and tossed it to the ground before slapping his hands together in a placating gesture. The scar vanished with the helmet. “Please, Detective Blackwell, don’t kill me. I’m sorry. It’s just not worth the money.”

  The other men all dropped to their knees, whimpering with the same pathetic pleading.

  Erik backed away. “There’s no way in hell you guys are riders. I’ve seen little kids tougher than you.”

  “No, we’re not,” they cried out in unison. “Please don’t kill us!”

  “According to police databases,” Emma reported, “all of them live Uptown, and none of them have criminal records.”

  Jia glared at the men. “Faking being a criminal is more idiotic than illegal. Give us a reason not to drag your sorry butts to jail right now for threatening police officers.”

  “It was just supposed to be a part,” the first rider offered. Without his helmet, he couldn’t intimidate a dog with his babyface. The other men were all handsome and well-groomed. The reason for their helmets was now obvious.

  “A part?” Erik asked. “What are you talking about? What part?”

  “It’s hard to break into the industry,” the fake rider explained. “Being an actor isn’t like being a cop. Getting training doesn’t mean you can get a decent job, and the Guild’s quota for living actors got lowered this year. It’s not fair. Audiences say they can’t tell the difference between real and virtual actors, but they complain about shows and movies not moving them. It’s because they—”

  Jia loudly cleared her throat, hoping the oncoming headache would fade. “We don’t care about your career problems. Let’s get back to why you’re pretending
to be riders and threatening my partner. You’re very, very lucky we didn’t pull our weapons.”

  The actor stood, his head hung low. “We all just got fired from a movie shoot. It was supposed to be our big break, but they said our parts weren’t important enough, and they were going to use virtuals instead. A day after that, I got a message saying someone was willing to pay us good money for a different kind of acting job. It was anonymous, but the money was good.”

  “Pretending to be riders?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. We were supposed to menace Blackwell until he hit one of us.”

  “Why? You planning to sue me? Some lawyer put you up to this?”

  The actor shook his head. “No, no. They said they wanted to prove you were out-of-control. If we got you to hit one of us and recorded it on our PNIUs, we’d get a big bonus in addition to our upfront payment. They also said they could line up some real acting jobs for us, but the way they made it sound, it’d just be like a quick punch. I remember reading you had hardware, but it didn’t occur to us that you might hit us with your cybernetic arm.”

  Erik doubted whatever dark conspiracy was hunting him would employ out-of-work actors to goad him into an attack. “Did you guys fly here in a flitter?”

  “Yes. Why? We parked way far away. I guess that was kind of dumb if we wanted to make a quick getaway.”

  “Follow us to the station.” Erik headed toward the driver’s side door of the MX 60. “If you cooperate fully, we won’t arrest you.”

  Jia rolled her eyes, mumbling as she walked around to her side of the flitter. “They should be arrested for that awful acting.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  October 6, 2229, Neo Southern California Metroplex, Police Enforcement Zone 122 Station, Digital Forensics Division, Office of Malcolm Constantine

  The interrogation of the fake rider gang hadn’t yielded much more information, but the men all agreed to give the police access to their PNIUs to aid in figuring out who’d paid them.