Drones

by Rob J. Hayes

  There’s a lot of people with guns in the room for just me. I wonder what they think I’m capable of. I also wonder why I haven’t been roughed up yet.

  “You found my ID then?” I ask.

  “Oh, I’d know your face without a little card telling me your name.” The man with the pointed beard has a heavy Lunar accent. He draws in a deep breath and lets it out as a sigh. “Takes a special kind of stupid for an Earther to walk into the Soferia alone and unarmed.”

  “I thought carrying a gun would only increase the chances of getting shot. How do you know my face?”

  For just a moment the man looks confused, then he smiles. “You Earthers. You don’t even realise how much of what you know is controlled. Your face is everywhere up here, Mr Garrick. Though not your name. Some are calling you a hero, others a monster. Which are you?”

  “I’m just a man looking for answers.”

  “And you think we can help you with them?”

  “I do.”

  The man shrugs and looks around his armed comrades. Some of them laugh. Others don’t. It’s the ones who don’t laugh that scare me more.

  “What makes you think we can help you, Mr Garrick?”

  “Because you own Eden,” I say. The man chuckles. “You and your associates. You know everything that happens up here on the Moon.”

  The pointed beard shakes. “We only own our little patch of land the Soferia sits on. Maybe you have us confused with someone else?”

  My turn to shake my head. A long time ago, Langdon told me never to go near the Soferia. It’s the headquarters for the Lunar Initiative. The descendants of Earth’s old organised crime syndicates. With the unification of the world’s countries and governments into one body; protection and law enforcement was given over to the military. Crime was pushed out to city limits all over the planet and places like Mextown rose up. Only the old syndicates couldn’t run places like Mextown. They specialised in a status quo, ruling by fear, not violence. The gang warfare made that impossible. So the syndicates fled to the Moon, pushed for independence and got their wish. They’re why almost all of the Lunar population live in poverty, because they refuse to let the Moon join the UEA. But all that is politics and I don’t care about politics. I just want the Sanctitists.

  “You’d have given me a beating and thrown me back out onto the street if I had the wrong people. I’m here, cuffed to a chair, surrounded by guards. You want something from me and I want something from you.”

  The man nods to one of his comrades and the woman from before steps forwards. She’s carrying a small device about the size of a PD but all screen. She taps it a couple of times then holds it up for me to see.

  I see myself on the screen, Dr Brant slung across my shoulder as I labour up a set of stairs. There’s no sound, but I don’t need there to be. I remember it all. The playback shows me carrying Brant through the lobby of the Ark, and then dumping him at the feet of the Sanctitist leader. It shows us talking. All the other faces are blurred out, their features hidden, but not mine and not Brants. The video shows the leader of the Sanctitists executing Brant, then they leave. The video ends with a close up of my face.

  “Now that might not be playing on any of the official channels,” the man with the pointed beard says. “But it’s showing in enough places that most of the Moon knows what you look like, Mr Garrick. And now we can put a name to the face the Sanctitists are calling The Revolutionary.”

  “What?”

  Again the bearded man laughs. “You didn’t know? You’re the face of their little campaign against Arkotech. Probably because they’re too scared to put their own faces out there.”

  “Do you know where they are?” The man seems caught off guard by the question.

  “Now I thought you might know where they are. I figured you were either one of them, or at least looking to join up. Belief in their cause or whatever.” He strokes his pointed beard. “Why do you want to know where they are?”

  Sometimes the truth is the best policy, or at least a part of the truth. Major corporations have been using that trick for years. “I want to know the truth,” I say. “I thought they were at the Ark for Brant. That’s why I gave him to them. But they weren’t. They were after something else and I want to know what.”

  The man squints, his brows pulling together. “That’s it? You just want to know why?”

  “Yes.”

  He laughs. “You’re mad. Fly to the Moon and no sooner are you off the shuttle, you step into places you shouldn’t. And you’re looking for some pretty dangerous people. And you just… want to know why?”

  I nod. When he puts it that way I find it hard to argue with him. Perhaps I am crazy. Maybe I’ve just latched on to the mystery to take my mind off the withdrawal symptoms. Perhaps I need to know I didn’t kill Brant in vain. Or maybe I need to know the bigger picture, need to know why Pascal and all the others died.

  “Well let’s say you’re right, Mr Garrick. We haven’t beaten you to a dusty pulp because we want something from you. A free exchange of services and, or information. A business transaction.”

  “If that’s what you want to call it,” I say. Interest. Another mystery to solve. What do the Lunar Initiative want from the Sanctitists? What do they want from me?

  “It is. See, we have a way of contacting them. But they… don’t care. They don’t show up to any meets we suggest. It’s disrespectful.”

  “Why do you want to meet?”

  “Because, as you say, Mr Garrick, Eden belongs to us. They operate within its borders, they should pay us a tribute. It’s business. It’s the accepted norm. Everyone knows it. Everyone pays.”

  Things start to click into place. Governments might view criminals and terrorists as the same thing, but that doesn’t mean the two get along.

  “You think if they see my face asking for the meet, they’ll show?”

  “Precisely. How could they pass up officially getting The Revolutionary under their sway.” The man with the pointed beard grins. “You help us, we’ll help you. Even trade.”

  It’s a bad idea. I’ll be putting myself between criminals and terrorists. Putting myself in harm’s way. All for an answer to a question. All because I don’t know what to do with myself now I can’t be a Drone.

  I nod. “Set it up.”

  “Excellent,” the man with the pointed beard says. “It’ll take a few days. In the mean time we extend our welcome to the Royal Soferia. You’ll be one of the very few Earthers ever to rent a room.”

  I notice he doesn’t offer to put me up, and neither does it sound like I’ll be allowed to leave.

  “I have one condition. I want to bring someone else in. Someone to watch my back.”

  I feel someone step up behind my chair and grab my hands. A moment later the cuffs are released and my shoulders feel free again. The man with the pointed beard extends a hand. I grab hold of it and we shake.

  “Glad we can do business, Mr Garrick.”

  Chapter 21

  Excitement: Thrilling. Energising. Addictive. There’s always a demand for excitement, it’s as addictive as fear and for many of the same reasons. One of the few emotions where supply struggles to meet the demand.

  I’m escorted to a room on the twelfth floor of the Soferia. The man with a pointed beard is gone, but two of his comrades remain. They open the door and all but shove me inside.

  “What if I want to leave? Will you be accompanying me?” I ask.

  The woman stops, the door only halfway closed behind me. She shakes her head slowly. “You’re not going anywhere until this thing is done. Don’t worry though, the Soferia has excellent room service.” She pushes the door closed.

  I wait, straining my ears, but I don’t hear any footsteps. They’re outside the door, standing guard. No doubt there’ll be guards out there all the time until the Initiative is done with me. At least they gave me my stuff back. They even left the book on space flight, not that I feel like reading it.

  The room t
hey’ve put me in is small with a single bed that has gaudy sheets to match the carpet. It looks like someone spilled paint on it and called it decorated. Maybe it’s to hide the blood should they decide their guests have outlived their usefulness. A single table with a single chair sits in the corner of the room, a pack of dirty playing cards upon it. A chest of drawers at the foot of the bed look as though they’ve seen better days, and the television set on top of them is older than I am.

  The bathroom isn’t much better. A small shower cubicle with a mouldy curtain. An old toilet and a sink that looks as though something is growing down the drain. All in all, the Initiative have obviously put me up in first class accommodation.

  I collapse onto the bed and let out a sigh. I can only hope it doesn’t have whatever the Lunar equivalent of bed bugs are. Not that I have much choice. I’m going to be here for a few days, might as well not complain about it.

  I have a call to make, a conversation that might not go well. The anticipation of it fills me with an anxious feeling that I don’t like. I don’t like any feelings, but I’m stuck with them. I’m not stuck with this one though, this one I have a way to get rid of. I move over to the table, set my PD down on it and call Kendall.

  She takes a while to answer. I realise I don’t know where she might be, what time it might be for her. Maybe I’m waking her up, maybe she’s just ignoring my call. I wouldn’t blame her. She promised me a favour, doesn’t mean she has to do jump at my every call.

  The screen flicks on and I see Kendall’s face. She looks better than before, healthier. Her skin less waxen and her hair has its sheen back. Her eyes look more alert too, they have a wicked glint to them that I haven’t seen before.

  “Robot?” Kendall asks with a smile.

  “How are you doing, Kendall?”

  “Oh, you know. I was shot just recently. So there’s that. Luckily for me, Jasmine does good work. I barely feel it anymore. She says it has something to do with… tissue… accelerant… or something. Some sort of fancy new tech she’s excited about.”

  “Good.”

  There’s a moment’s silence. It feels awkward.

  “Somehow I doubt you just called me to catch up, Robot. Ask about my health.”

  I shake my head slowly. “You said you owed me a favour.”

  Kendall narrows her eyes. “I did. Didn’t expect you to call it in so soon. Didn’t expect you to call it in at all, actually. You remember what I do, right, Robot?”

  I nod. “I also remember what you did for Pascal. You protected him.”

  Kendall snorts. Anger. It’s written all over her face and she is quite scary when angry. “I failed to protect him. Besides, Pascal was a special case. I kill people. I don’t protect them. That’s probably why he’s dead.”

  “Why was he a special case?” The answer doesn’t really matter. I don’t need to know. But I want to. I want at least one mystery solved.

  “That it? That your favour? You want to know some shit about my personal life, Robot?” Kendall shakes her head.

  “No. Just curious.”

  She snorts. “Because he was scared that someone was gonna try to kill him. Rightly so. And because he was my brother-in-law.”

  “You have a sister?”

  “No, Robot. I have a brother. A recently widowed brother. What’s this all about? You want a favour or not?”

  “I do. I’m… in a situation.” She narrows her eyes. Suspicious by nature, her job would need her to be. “I need someone to watch my back. Someone who can handle themselves. Someone who knows what a situation looks like when it’s about to… go badly.” I’m talking around it. I don’t know if the comms are secure.

  “Just what are you into, Robot?”

  “I can’t tell you. Not over…” I tap the screen of my PD. “I’ll tell you everything when you get here.”

  “If.” Kendall looks far from convinced.

  I take a deep breath and decide maybe she needs a bit of convincing and maybe some truth might do that. “I’m looking in to something. I think it might explain Pascal’s death. It might shed some light on who killed him and why.”

  Kendall goes quiet and looks away from the camera.

  “I promise, whatever happens, it will be exciting.”

  When Kendall looks back to the camera, she’s wearing a half-smile. “Where are you, Robot?”

  “Eden.”

  “Shit.”

  “The Royal Soferia hotel.”

  “Are you joking?”

  “Bring your tools.”

  Chapter 22

  Trust: Warming. Protective. Rare. True trust is one of the most valuable of emotions. One of the most highly requested. It’s also one of the hardest to come by. It’s almost impossible to fake. Selling true trust comes at a price no amount of creds can ever pay for.

  “Wake up!” The voice brings me round in an instant and I roll off the bed, snatching my pack up. It would make a poor weapon or shield, but anything is better than nothing.

  I’m still in my dirty little room in the Soferia. The door is open and the man with the pointy beard is leaning against the frame. He’s wearing an amused smile. He reaches into a packet held in his left hand and pulls out a handful of nuts, popping them into his mouth.

  “Bit jumpy, Mr Garrick?” he asks around a mouthful of nuts. He crunches them and reaches into the packet for more.

  “Old habits,” I say. “Shouldn’t you have knocked?”

  I can see another couple of people behind the man, they’re wearing suits. The guards from outside my door. It dawns me then that I never asked for his name. I don’t know any of their names. Maybe they want it that way.

  He shakes his head. “I have a key. And you looked sound asleep.” He nods to the security camera in the back of the room. I figured they were probably watching me.

  I stand, dropping my pack and skirting the bed, heading towards the doorway. The man with the pointed beard pops another handful of nuts into his mouth and chews.

  “Do you have a name?” I ask.

  He shrugs. “You can call me… Mr White.” He grins. “We have time and a place. Everything is all set up. They’ll wait to see your face before coming out of hiding though.”

  “Excellent. When?”

  He looks at his PD. “About three hours. Also, you have a visitor.”

  Mr White turns his arm around to show me his PD. I see a woman who looks a lot like Kendall. She has a man in a suit on the floor in front of her. Her hand is around his neck and I can see the glint of metal in that hand. Her other hand is holding a small pistol and pointing at another man in a suit.

  “Friend of yours?” Mr White asks.

  I nod.

  “Well then. Come on.” He turns and walks away. I hurry after him. “She says if you don’t appear soon, she’s going to start shooting up the place. You have some interesting friends, Mr Garrick.”

  “Not really.” I don’t have any friends.

  “Natasha Kendall sits quite near the top of the interesting list.” Mr White shoots me a severe look over his shoulder and crunches down on some more nuts.

  When the elevator opens to the lobby, I can quickly see that the situation has gotten no better. Kendall is still holding a man twice her size at knife point, and has her pistol trained on another man in an attendant’s uniform. I see six others in the lobby and all are armed with shotguns pointed in Kendall’s direction. She doesn’t look worried. She looks savage. Dangerous. The man with the knife to his neck looks a little anxious to say the least.

  “That you, Robot?” Kendall calls out in a loud voice, her eyes dart in my direction only for a moment.

  “It’s me, Kendall.” I take a few hurried steps forwards, my hands held up. It’s the most non-threatening I can make myself to all involved parties. “You can put the man down now.”

  “They’re not holding you?”

  “No.” I take another few steps forwards. She can see me now over the shoulder of the man she’s holding. “We’re
working together.” I glance backwards towards Mr White and shrug. “For now. I think.”

  Kendall says nothing for a few moments, looking around at all the armed muscle nearby. “Tell them to put down their weapons then.”

  “Do it,” Mr White says around a mouthful of nuts. He has an amused tone to his voice.

  The six armed thugs let go of their shotguns. Kendall lets out a sigh and holsters her little pistol at her ankle. She whips her knife away and the man she is holding collapses to the floor and scrambles away from her. Kendall stands and gives me a smile.

  “Thought I was coming to rescue you, Robot.”

  “Nice to see you again, Ms Kendall,” Mr White says. He steps up to my side and I can see him grinning behind his pointy beard.

  Kendall shakes her head at him.

  “You know each other?” I ask.

  Kendall shrugs. “Client privileges, Robot. I’ve never met this man before in my life.”

  “The Initiative has hired her from time to time. Ms Kendall is a very… useful person to know.” Mr White pops another handful of nuts into his mouth and crunches, then crumples up the packet and slips it into a pocket of his suit jacket. “How do you know her?”

  Kendall claps her hands together. “Everyone knows everyone. Well done. Someone gonna get my bags?” She thumbs behind her and shoots us both an angry look.

  “No time,” Mr White says. “We’re heading straight out. You only just caught us.”

  “I’ve just got in. Stepped off the shuttle and came straight here.”

  Mr White shrugs. “Cars are waiting outside.”

  Kendall grabs me by my shirt and pulls me forwards towards the door. “Grab those, Robot.” She points to a set of three heavy-looking bags on the lobby floor. “And then you tell me what in Gaia’s name you’ve gotten me into.”

  In the car, I tell Kendall everything. I know I’m breaking the agreement I signed with Arkotech, but I don’t care. Kendall keeps secrets as a part of her job, I’m sure she can keep mine, and if not… well, it feels good to tell someone else. Feels good to get someone else’s eyes on the mystery.