Connor Rix Chronicles 1: Rules of Force

by Steve Statham

  "If it makes you feel better, I'm paying one now."

  "It don't make me feel better, that's the whole point."

  "Look, Big, you're right. It has been mostly upside for me," Rix said quietly. He stood up. "But the upside is higher than I can even describe. It's like that for a lot of people. Except for these occasional bouts, I wake up every day feeling at my physical peak, and I still don't even think I've found the limits to my abilities. I tell you man, there are days when I feel like I could conquer the world…"

  "Bad choice of words, dude. Conquering worlds is exactly what that Brazilian douchebag is all about."

  "Just a figure of speech, Big. But what’s this about anyway? You want to back out of this job?"

  Big Fella stiffened at that. "No, I'm not going to leave you hanging. I just want to be clear about where we're going with all this. I mean, don't you see it Rix? We're different sides of the same coin as this Brazilian guy. We want to get rigged any way we want, and don't want anyone telling us otherwise. Nobody wants to think about the consequences for themselves, let alone for everybody else."

  "We're not the same as him, Big. Whenever there is a big technological breakthrough, someone, somewhere will abuse it. That doesn't mean the breakthrough itself is bad. What's happening now is too important — we can't let it all be derailed because some mob boss wants to control it all by himself, or even because some government wants the monopoly on Modifications. For once in the history of the human race we aren't at the complete mercy of nature. We have the chance to wipe out a whole sorry list of human frailties. Last century they used technology to defeat polio, smallpox and a hundred other common diseases that used to cripple mankind. Now we're finding new ways to overcome weaknesses and engineer much better lives. We can control our own destiny in ways that earlier generations could never have imagined. All I'm asking is the freedom to act; guys like Cunha, or organizations like the ASA, want to control the process from beginning to end, passing out whatever crumbs they see fit. I'm not going to let that happen."

  The slightest hint of a smile passed across Big Fella's face. "Well, I guess it's coming clearer now. You act like some old-time private investigator bringing in superhumans gone bad, but this is kind of a crusade for you, ain't it?"

  "Call it what you want."

  "So how does Caroline fit into that fine speech you just made?"

  "Oh, now she's a true freak of nature."

  Big Fella let loose a booming laugh.

  "But honestly, Big, I'm not sure of the proper way to transport an eight-foot, bio-engineered rattlesnake. Any ideas?"

  "Oh, let's definitely ask the women."

  17

  Vinicius Cunha jogged down the steps of the small jet and strode across the tarmac to the waiting car. He opened the door to the rear seat, then stood for a minute before entering, scanning his surroundings, looking out beyond the airport to the mesquite and cedar trees beyond the fence.

  Texas. I am ready to be done with this place.

  They had landed at the Uvalde airport, west of New San Antonio, which they had found to be the easiest path of entry for all his men. They had let it be known they were wealthy hunters, come to shoot the exotic game at some of the local ranches.

  He smiled grimly at the thought as he slid into the back of the car.

  Yes, Texans like hunters. And indeed, we will be hunting. Well, there will be shooting anyway.

  He sat in the car while his men unloaded his bags and some of the more conventional weapons, and placed them in the trunk. He had not brought much, however. He intended to settle this matter and return to his home in Brazil as quickly as possible.

  He was confident he had brought the right men for the task. There was Eurico, who had been his "green" man during the Open Sky raid, Marcelo, who had been darkened to black on that same raid, and one of his Fightin' Mad red men. The others were lower-level Modifieds, but he had judged them sufficient.

  He stretched out across the entire back seat and closed his eyes, already thinking about what he would do to his opponents, and how he would celebrate back home.

  ****

  Marie sat brooding.

  She dreaded what was coming next, but there was no avoiding it. She stared into the mirror, eyes dull. She hadn't moved in nearly ten minutes. She could hear the others downstairs, busy with preparations for the coming task.

  Slowly, deliberately, she reached for her E-Thing. She forced herself to compose the letter, each word agony. Her hands trembled as her fingers clumsily tapped out the words.

  She stopped once to wipe tears from her eyes, and then paused another time when the discomfort in her stomach became too much to bear. She stood and paced around the room to calm her nerves. After a few minutes she returned to her letter and continued working, word by painful word, until it was completed.

  With a trembling sigh she saved the letter and tossed the E-Thing into her pack.

  ****

  The first of Vinicius' men reported back shortly before dark. He found the man's report infuriatingly unsatisfactory. And then the second man returned and reported the same thing.

  And then the third.

  It made no sense. Nobody in New San Antonio had any idea who this Travis Burnet was. Nobody admitted to buying anything from him, nobody recalled selling him anything, and there were no tales of him putting down competitors in the way such things are normally handled.

  Except for me. He chooses to start his business by personally insulting me. By stealing from me. By inconveniencing me.

  It was a shame he could not locate the people who had sent out feelers to Vinicius' local organization, the people from the gym. Surely they could be made to talk. But they had disappeared, and he didn't have all week to deal with this. It all needed to be handled immediately.

  He barely listened as his men drifted in and out, giving reports. One of them worked solely on his E-Thing, trying to track down leads through the local net.

  Tension ran through his body. He needed — needed — to act. Vinicius hated inactivity. Hated waiting. It seemed sinful to be idle when circumstances cried out for action. A predator should always be in motion.

  He stood up abruptly, and the heads of all his men swiveled to look at him.

  "We will now let our enemies know that they are the prey, and they will never be safe again," he said. "This gym — no, this whole block of buildings — burn it all."

  He watched as his men scrambled to obey.

  What a great shame the gym is empty. The fire would make much more of a statement with a few bodies mixed in the ashes.

  But he smiled anyway. It was action, and the chase was now beginning.

  ****

  Marie watched, from her vantage point on the roof of an old apartment building two blocks away, as the growing flame licked the side of the structure that housed Empire Gym, then leaped into the night sky. The orange glow cast shadows up and down the street. A car that had been left in the parking lot of the gym suddenly burst into flame, exploding shortly thereafter.

  She had been sitting, unmoving, back against the cold metal of a ventilation duct, stealth fabrics pulled tightly about her. She could clearly see everything unfolding below with the aid of the active goggles that had been part of the Open Sky arsenal. She zoomed in on the figures at the perimeter of the light cast by the fire.

  She thumbed her E-Thing to life, screen set to minimal glow. She held up the device, aimed it at the flames, and shot a few second of video, which she relayed to Rix. She then tapped in his access number. He responded instantly.

  "It's just as you sketched out, Connor," she said in a whisper. "They've been using this place as a meeting area, coming and going for over an hour now. I guess they finally ran out of patience."

  "Looks that way. I'll bet you can feel the flames from there."

  "As a matter of fact, I can."

  "Any problem with the next step?"

  "No, I'm heading out now. I'll update when I'm done."

&
nbsp; She slipped the E-Thing into her pocket, slowly stood up, and made her way to the edge of the building opposite the gym. She had tied her rope to a pipe earlier, and now tossed the coil over the side. She grabbed the rope and quickly rappelled down the wall. A grim smile passed across her face as she realized that she would never have had the strength or courage to do such a thing before meeting Rix. Together they truly had vanquished the weaknesses she had felt. If nothing else, for the rest of her life, she would no longer feel powerless, or vulnerable. No soldier or agent would ever catch her unprepared, and no loved one would ever be forcibly taken from her again. She felt strong and capable.

  It made what had to be done later feel even worse.

  She dropped to the ground and unshouldered the special tool she had brought with her. Another of Open Sky's amazing toys, it looked like a rifle with an extremely long and thin barrel — which it was, in a sense, although it fired no bullets.

  She silently made her way across the street and hid in some shrubs across the street from the burning building. She could feel the waves of heat. Sirens wailed in the distance.

  Marie watched as the men made their way to cars parked not far from the circle of light given off by the flame. She reached up to the side of the goggles and pressed the switch to sync the eyeset with the targeting laser. She watched Vinicius as he walked back to one of the large cars, stopping to look one last time before getting in, smiling.

  After the other men got in the car and closed the doors, she slid the barrel of the rifle through the shrubs and centered the laser on the rear of the car. She slowly squeezed the nub of an electrical switch that sent the projectile on its way. There was no kickback, only a soft bark indicating the device had worked.

  She triggered the zoom on her goggles until she could see — just barely — the thin, round membrane, the size of a nickel, that had attached itself to the car. She pulled out her E-Thing and called up the commands that activated the tracking device, and synced the signal throughout the team's communication links. She called up Rix.

  "Ok, the pig is tagged."

  "Excellent, Marie. We can see his movements already."

  "Will it really allow you to break in on their communications and speak to them directly?"

  "That's what Rohm tells me. They've thoroughly corrupted the E-Thing systems, and that little tracker should amplify any signal from me. He'll hear me whether he likes it or not."

  "Shame we won't have video to see his face."

  "Yeah, right. Ok, Marie, we'll see you back home later."

  She hesitated for a moment before speaking.

  "I love you Connor."

  "Love you too, babe."

  She closed the link. It was her last part in this operation. The others had acted like it was a crucial step in the plan, and it was, she supposed, but she also knew they wanted to keep her out of the worst of the fighting. Marie was Modified, sure, but there are levels of Modification, and they all knew, not least herself, that she was not quite rigged for a stand-up brawl with these vicious giants.

  So it was all over.

  She sat unmoving behind the hedge for a while, lost in thought. She looked up at the sky, and watched the few stars that could pierce the city's lights. She sighed, and awoke her E-Thing.

  She hesitated only a moment, then set up the letter she had composed earlier for a time delayed delivery. Three hours should do, she decided.

  She stood up slowly and walked back to her car, shoulders shaking.

  18

  Rohm blinked the Livescreen to life as soon as the message alert flashed across his vision. It was the dedicated link to Rix.

  An image of the younger man's face resolved an apparent three feet in front of him. He looked calm, but also eager somehow.

  "Mister Rix. What news?"

  "We have the man you're looking for within our sight, Mister Rohm."

  He opened the video Rix had sent in parallel, and saw Vinicius Cunha half in shadow, his face lit by… fire?

  "He is in the Texas Republic?"

  "Yes. We baited him, he took it."

  "What are your plans?"

  "Punching, kicking, biting, then wrapping him up and sending him to you. Please have some, ah, suitable transportation on standby in New SA."

  "The tried and true methods," Rohm said. "I see you are a man who respects the classics." He let his eyes wander to call up other information from the input center on his optics.

  "Mr. Rix, you don't have any of your people in Brazil, do you?"

  Rohm almost smiled at the surprised look on Connor Rix's face.

  "No, the team is all assembled here."

  "Good. Because I have something planned that may work as a distraction for you before you commence with your, er, fisticuffs."

  Rix was silent for a moment. When he spoke it was apparent he was trying very hard to keep his voice level. "You knew it was this guy all along, didn't you?"

  "Not 'all along,' but yes, I deduced Mr. Cunha was the man behind these troubles."

  "And you didn't think to share that information earlier?"

  "I had every confidence that you would be able to complete the task for which you were hired. And well compensated."

  Rohm very nearly did laugh this time at the strangled expression on Rix's face. "I see," he said at last. "Any other information you can share that might smooth this operation along?"

  "Yes. I am about to deliver a very personal message to Mister Cunha, directly to Brazil. I think even from so far away, this message will make itself known almost instantly. A clever man such as yourself, Mister Rix, will no doubt find a way to use this to his advantage."

  Rix nodded, and his image dissolved. Rohm immediately called up the screens that tracked and controlled his prototype satellite, positioned in a perilously low orbit over Brazil. As far as the world knew, it was like all his other satellites, using lasers to zap small orbital debris, part of his fleet of devices cleaning the accumulated trash from low-earth-orbit. And it did that, true enough, but this one had also been equipped with a more powerful beam, one designed more for drilling into an asteroid during mining operations than merely vaporizing decades-old paint chips shed from earlier spacecraft. It also had the latest imaging equipment for ground surveillance.

  Rohm had not had a specific mission in mind when he launched this unique satellite last year, beyond supplementing his orbital clean-up fleet. But in a volatile world it pays to have some hidden options. You just never know.

  As the latest images from the ground in Brazil flashed in front of him, he was relieved to see the situation had not changed from the last round of surveillance. Cunha's wife and children were still away from the compound. In fact, the entire household seemed empty. No doubt Cunha had brought along with him most of his underlings, and the family members were off doing whatever such families did when the head thug was out conducting his thievery and extortions.

  He fed a new series of commands to the satellite, commands he had already prepared days before. But he hesitated a moment before giving the final approval. Small, nagging doubts had crept in on the edges of his mind, surprising him. Rohm had thought all the decisions had been made to his satisfaction, all the ramifications calculated. It was unlike him to second-guess his own machinations.

  His resolve wavered for a minute.

  And then his anger started to build, which frustrated him even more. A man of his abilities should be able to control his emotions, harness his passions. It felt to him like a sickening display of human weakness. It was shameful. His people had relied upon him for security, his great friend Allen Venway had volunteered to help him when the trouble started, and they were all dead. And now he, with all his abilities, hesitated to do what was necessary to bring justice to the victims.

  No! I will not falter. I will ride this out to the end. Whatever the cost. The people I've lost deserve no less.

  Rohm gave the satellite the command he had carefully prepared.

  And Vinicius Cunha
's home ceased to exist.

  ****

  Mr. Blue parked his car in the "stable" at the back of the property, and stepped out of the vehicle. Vinicius owned no horses, but the stable was home to all manner of exotic cars and motorcycles. He looked around at the collection of machines, all curves and dramatic angles, gleaming under the soft lights.

  The man does enjoy his money, I'll give him that.

  Mr. Blue's own non-descript Ford looked like a taxicab situated among Cunha's expensive sports cars. Mr. Blue could afford better, of course, but for most situations he preferred a lower profile vehicle. Tonight, for instance. As he made the rounds throughout the city checking on Cunha's local Modifications empire, he found that the surprise that followed when he stepped out of his common car worked to his advantage. So many people in their business had come to expect a big boss arriving in a hulking black Mercedes or Audi. He broke the pattern, in this and other small ways.

  He touched the switch to close the garage, and ducked underneath as the wood and metal door began its lumbering descent.

  He stepped out onto the long, lighted path leading to Cunha's main house, where he was due to conduct his final supervision of the organization for the night, and leave the payments he had collected in Cunha's safe. He shifted the satchel from his right hand to his left —

  Searing light.

  Impossible noise.

  He was thrown off his feet and tossed backward as if he were a discarded piece of paper in a typhoon. He rolled up against the side of the barn, dazed, vision a kaleidoscope of dancing white blobs.

  The rush of wind sucked in from behind him, above him, all around. He dropped his face to the dirt, hands crawling up to cover his head. The flash of heat was unlike anything he had encountered before, like a thing alive.

  After some time — he could not tell how much — dim letters scrolled across his vision. Fighting his way through the mental fog, he realized that it was his optical implants rebooting. Slowly, he pieced together that the great light had overloaded his optics, and they had shut down in self-preservation mode. They were now coming back online.