by Jake Bible
“Shut off your com,” Thorne’s voice barked into the com. “Or shut the fuck up.”
Kinsey pressed her ear.
“My com is off. Now. You. Talk,” Kinsey said, pointing a finger at Dana. “How is your daughter still alive? Isn’t that chip in Darby’s brain supposed to be your daughter or her memories or some fucking thing? Jesus, this is so fucked!”
Dana stumbled her way to a stool and sat down hard.
“You want something to drink?” Gunnar asked. “I mean water, not booze. Pretty sure there’s no booze on the ship left.”
“Water would be good. Thank you,” Dana said.
Gunnar got up to find a glass.
“You’re not talking,” Kinsey said.
“Give me a second, please,” Dana said. “This isn’t easy for me.”
Gunnar returned with the glass of water and Dana drank it down before she started to speak again.
“Biologically speaking, the woman up there is my daughter. But that is about as far as the connection goes,” Dana said. “The person my ex-husband will be speaking to stopped being my real daughter a long, long time ago. My real daughter died. I am not lying when I say that. I tried to bring her back, and physically I did, but she was never the same. The personality that came back with her from death was not my daughter. If you think Ballantine is a monster, wait until you meet Wire.”
“I’m sorry, but did you say Wire?” Gunnar asked.
“Who cares what her name is?” Kinsey snapped.
“I do when the name is Wire. You didn’t really name her that at birth, did you?” Gunnar asked Dana.
“No, that is the name she took for her second life,” Dana answered. “Although what is up there can hardly be considered alive. She is more machine than person.”
“Machine? This just gets more fucked up with every second,” Kinsey said.
“You don’t know the half of it,” Dana said.
“Then finish talking,” Kinsey said. “I thought what was left of your daughter is what’s on that chip that’s messing with Darby’s head.”
“To be honest, this is all theory,” Dana said. “I died too. Not really, as you know, but enough to fool Ballantine, which is quite the trick, let me tell you. But, in order to die, I had to leave the company Ballantine and I worked for and join a different company.”
“Pullman Heating & Cooling,” Kinsey said.
“Yes, them,” Dana said. “What I didn’t know when I disappeared into their shielded and layered world, was that they were run by my former daughter. Everyone knew that the head of the company was someone…different, but no one, except for her trusted circle, ever saw her or dealt with her. I worked for years in ignorance. Then my bliss was shattered and I started to plot my way out.”
“That’s how you ended up with us,” Gunnar said. “You defected to get away from your own daughter?”
“Defected is a strange word for the circumstances, but close,” Dana said. “The company that Ballantine worked for, and used for his own ends, was absorbed into Pullman as soon as he took out Horace, Perry, and Longbottom. Ballantine made it all possible. I kept my head down and stayed out of sight until your Popeye was found. I used him to find the Beowulf III and used that plan to get away from Pullman. It is a million times more complicated than that, but those are the brush strokes.”
“There was a plot to kill Ballantine in there somewhere too,” Kinsey said.
“Well, yes, that is true. If you have the chance to take a man like him out then you do it,” Dana said. “Especially when he wants you dead.”
“You people are certifiable,” Gunnar said.
“Yes, because you are so sane, Gun,” Kinsey said.
“Beside the point,” Gunnar said with a grin. He focused on Dana. “What do you mean she is more machine? How?”
“Technically, our daughter did die,” Dana explained. “There was an…accident. When I revived her, she was different. It took a while to show itself, but her proclivities could not be hidden for long. She had a thirst for death. Ballantine manipulated that to his own ends, but eventually, even he saw he couldn’t control her. Ballantine had foreseen something like that happening, so he’d insisted I make plans.”
“Plans?” Gunnar asked.
“Before she died and was revived, I was able to upload her consciousness into an experimental mainframe. But a human mind cannot survive in a computer matrix. So I began looking for a host.”
“Darby,” Kinsey said.
“Yes. Darby,” Dana replied. “We found her in a very sad state. She was caged and basically feral. No idea who she was. Ballantine saved her and with rehabilitation, she was able to retrieve her memories. While examining her for that, I found that she had an implant that would work perfectly for hosting our daughter’s consciousness.”
“Why would she have an implant?” Gunnar asked.
Dana shrugged. “We never found that out. My guess was it was used to boost her fighting abilities and combat knowledge. It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before.”
“So you data dumped your daughter’s consciousness into the implant and hoped for the best?” Kinsey said. “Jesus Christ. What could go wrong?”
“You’ve seen it,” Dana replied. “Darby held up extremely well for years. I believe it was the trauma and emotional stress of being part of Team Grendel that finally cracked the barrier between the implant and Darby’s own mind.”
“Yeah, the shit we’ve been through will do that,” Kinsey said.
“But Darby doesn’t have any of your daughter’s memories or personality, does she?” Gunnar asked.
“No, she does not,” Dana said.
“What about this Wire chick?” Kinsey asked. “You keep saying former daughter. Even if she has become more machine than person, how isn’t she your daughter for real?”
“Because my daughter died. True brain death. I watched it happen. Whatever I brought back was something else. It was not my little girl,” Dana said and her eyes welled with tears.
Kinsey and Gunnar looked at each other, but didn’t say anything. What was there to say?
***
“Password?” Lucy said, smiling, as the chime rang again.
“I am unfortunately ignorant of the password,” Ronald called through the shielded, and hidden, door to the Toyshop. “Were we given a password?”
Lucy activated the door and stepped back. “Only messing with you, Ronald,” she said. “Come on in. We’re getting settled and ready for the next phase.”
“Excellent,” Ronald said as he ducked his head and entered the Toyshop.
Being a Gigantopithecus, commonly known as a Bigfoot, Ronald’s height was a little inconvenient in the lower decks of the B3. He was loaded down with a good amount of gear and luggage and not looking too pleased about it.
“Where shall I set this?” he asked.
“Ballantine said to pack light,” Carlos said. “That’s not light.”
“It is for all of us,” Ronald said and dropped the gear in front of the counter.
He stepped aside and in came Dr. Lisa Morganton, Dr. Boris Kelnichov, Chief Engineer Morgan “Cougher” Colfer, and Chief Steward/Boatswain/Second Officer, and pretty much every other title on the ship, Trevor “Popeye” De Bruhl.
“Some of them bags is full of snacks and shit,” Popeye barked. “If we’re going to be in here a while, then we need to eat, right? Any of you nerds think of that?”
“Must we use that word?” Ronald asked. “We are all crew of the Beowulf III. No need for pejoratives.”
“Suit yerself, Sasquatch,” Popeye replied. “I get called all kinds of things and never get my hairy panties in a wad.”
“Oh, yes, this should be loads of fun,” Carlos said and disappeared into the stacks of shelves. “Don’t touch anything!”
“No one wants to touch anything!” Cougher yelled back. “Punk ass bitch…”
“Okay, first order of business is we do not kill each other,” Lucy said then put a hand to her mout
h and added sotto voce, “I mean, we do not kill Carlos. No matter how much he deserves it.”
“I can hear you! I have the place wired for sound!” Carlos yelled.
“Can you hear this?” Cougher asked as he stuck his middle finger in the air.
“I can see it! I also have the place wired for video!” Carlos replied.
“You sure we can’t kill him?” Cougher asked.
“We need him,” Ingrid said sadly. “He knows the Toyshop better than anyone.”
“Eh hem,” Moshi said as she scurried from one hidden spot to another.
“Almost anyone,” Ingrid said. “He’ll be more useful alive.”
“Bummer,” Cougher said.
“No shit,” Popeye agreed.
Dr. Morganton remained quiet. She found a seat and sat down heavily.
“Are you alright?” Ingrid asked.
“I am fine,” Dr. Morganton replied.
“You sure? You don’t look fine,” Ingrid said.
“I’m tired, Ingrid. That is all. Just so tired. I want this to be over. Now,” she replied.
“I agree with you there,” Lucy said. “I think we all do. But for now, we have a long road ahead. Ballantine is trusting us to get through this.”
“What exactly are we getting through?” Boris asked. “I am not privy to the plan. There is a plan, yes? One of those brilliant, yet twisted, Ballantine plans? I do hope so as I am quite unsure how else we will survive this ordeal. I mean, whoa, what a nightmare. Have you met Ballantine’s daughter? Or the facsimile that was his daughter? She is something not to be trifled with.”
Everyone stared at Boris. He shrugged.
“No? Alright. Never mind,” he said then looked to Popeye. “Did I hear there are snacks?”
“I should have just died back when I had all those chances,” Popeye muttered. “It’d be better than this Hell.”
***
“Ballantine.”
“Wire.”
“It has been a very long time.”
“It has.”
“You look healthy.”
“As do you. New servos in the shoulders?”
“Yes. Thank you for noticing. Cutting edge tech. Is Carlos still around? He would be very interested in hearing what Pullman Heating & Cooling is accomplishing these days.”
“I believe Dr. Morganton would be more interested. She is our bioalternatives expert, after all.”
“Lisa? You have Lisa onboard? So, she is alive. You sneaky little devil.”
“I didn’t say she was onboard. I said she’d be interested.”
“You also didn’t tell me if Carlos is still around. Is he?”
“Carlos is Carlos.”
“That is not an answer.”
“Yes, actually, it is an answer.”
“Did you just actually me?”
“Did I? Is actuallying someone a thing?”
“When was the last time you were on the internet?”
“Oh, well, it has been some time. You know how it is while running for your life from one nuked island to the next. Just no time to get online and check MySpace.”
“MySpace? Now you’re fucking with me, Ballantine. Even you are not that clueless.”
“You’d be surprised. I mean, look around. I ended up here, in this predicament. Clueless could be my new thing.”
“I highly doubt that. You have this all planned out. Don’t think I’m not prepared. Ballantine doesn’t give up this easily. You called in because you have something up your sleeve. Not that you have sleeves. Have you thought of updating your wardrobe? Polo shirts and khakis really aren’t in style.”
“You are wrong there, Wire. Polo shirts and khakis will always be in style. As long as men like me can tan like this then this outfit will live forever.”
“You do have a remarkable tan. I would expect nothing less considering you have been living at sea for, what? A couple years now?”
“Has it been that long? Time flies when you are having fun.”
“People have died because of your choices, Ballantine. You call that fun?”
“Not for them, no. But I always look on the bright side. Death is everywhere, but when do you get a view like this?”
He spread his arms.
“Paradise.”
“Can we cut the shit and get down to business?” Thorne snapped. “I can’t believe there are two of you.”
“Commander Vincent Thorne,” Wire said, turning her attention away from Ballantine. “Your reputation precedes you. Gruff and to the point.”
Thorne studied Wire. The woman did not hide that she was as much machine as flesh. None of her enhancements were covered in synthetic skin. She wore them like tattoos; badges of honor.
Both arms were conglomerations of gleaming metal parts. Interwoven steel cables that were connected by various junction points, servos, and what looked like hydraulic hinges. Thorne couldn’t be sure. One eye gleamed red while the other appeared normal other than the fact Thorne hadn’t seen it blink once since the woman had stepped onboard the B3. Ears were metal, there were metal cables peeking out from under Wire’s neck skin, and when she shifted, the sound of powerful servos could be heard from under her combat pants.
“You got real guts or plastic tubes in that belly?” Thorne asked. “Real guts might worry me, but plastic I can handle.”
“Cute,” Wire said. “And my internal organs are none of your business. Do not mistake my knowing who you are as acceptance of you being here. Piss me off only once and Sterling here will deal with you.”
“I will,” Sterling said.
“This guy? Not too worried,” Thorne replied. “I know what he is capable of.”
“Is that so?” Wire asked, amused. “Sterling? A demonstration.”
Sterling nodded and walked towards one of the deckhands, a man trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.
“Um, might I request you do not harm any of the crew?” Ballantine said, holding up a hand as if he was in class. “Taking on Team Grendel is one thing, they are professionals like you, but the deckhands are simply laborers that got caught up in all this mess. We haven’t had a chance to drop them at a port.”
“You all are complicit,” Wire said. “Sterling?”
“Hey now!” the deckhand cried, panic filling his voice and eyes. The others around him moved away. Fast. “Leave me alone!”
The deckhand tried to run, but Sterling reached him before he even made it a few steps. Then grab and snap. The man fell to the deck, dead, his neck at an unnatural angle.
“Nice trick,” Darby said. “So?”
“So? He just killed a man for no reason!” Thorne snarled.
“Yes, but we can all do that,” Darby said.
Sterling knelt, grasped the dead man’s skull with his right hand, and squeezed. The skull burst open like a fruit, sending brains and blood splattering everywhere.
“Sterling prefers his enhancements under wraps, so to speak,” Wire stated. “He likes the synthetic skin look. Keeps his abilities stealth.”
“Might we ask what other enhancements he has?” Ballantine said. “For reference sake?”
“Nah, takes the mystery out of life,” Sterling said as he wiped his hand on the deckhand’s clothing then stood and rejoined the group.
“Well, we wouldn’t want to destroy the mystery, now would we,” Ballantine replied.
“Upper decks are clear and secured!” one of the guards said.
“Get the brothers out of the crow’s nest,” Wire ordered. “Thorne? Can you make sure they do not try to resist? I would love to witness their sniper skills at some point, but today is not the day for that. They go easily and they live. Understood?”
Thorne pressed his ear. “Boys? You copy that?”
“Copy,” the Reynolds replied over the com.
“They’ll be good,” Thorne said.
“Are we sure?” Ballantine asked out of the corner of his mouth. “They don’t always follow directions.”
“If you say so,” Ballantine replied and nodded at Wire. “So, would you care to adjourn to the conference room? It’s a tad cooler in there and we can sit comfortably while we discuss terms.”
“Terms?” Wire said and looked about. “What terms are we discussing? You surrendered, Ballantine. It’s over. Now all I have to do is decide who lives, who dies, and what to do with you once I’ve had my…fun.”
“I’m guessing I die,” Darby said.
“Why would you say that?” Wire asked, looking honestly confused. “You’re Darby.”
“She’s finally cracked,” Sterling said. “The Darby you want is broken.”
“Oh, nothing is ever truly broken,” Wire said and flexed her left hand. The metal fingers moved in a slow, easy motion, the sound of the servos a quiet hum carried by the ocean breeze. “I think we can put Darby back together again despite all the king’s horses and all the king’s men’s failures.”
“Am I the king in this?” Ballantine asked. “Or the horses and men?”
“Don’t think too deeply into the metaphor, Ballantine,” Wire said. “I talk nonsense. It’s a habit that has held over from my days as your flesh and blood. Hard to break, no matter how much I try. Your conditioning as a father really did a number on the psyche in this head.”
“He’s certainly the horse’s ass, if nothing else,” Thorne said.
Wire laughed. “Oh, that is so true! Yes, perhaps the metaphor does work.”
“So, the conference room?” Ballantine asked.
“For what?” Wire replied.
“Terms. I did already say that, yes? I am a tad tired, so forgive me if I am repeating myself.”
Wire stared at Ballantine for a long while then nodded to Sterling. “Sweep the conference room. I want it secure and free of boobytraps.”
“Boobytraps? You expect me to pull something so base as that over on you? Wire, dear, please. You insult me. I can assure you that the conference room is simply a conference room.”
“I’ll sweep it,” Sterling said and looked at Darby. “Care to show me where it is?”
Darby looked to Thorne. Thorne nodded.
“Up here,” Darby said and walked towards the stairs that lead up past the bridge and to the conference room doors. “Come on.”