The Last Hercules

by Ron Bender

  “Yeah.” He nods once. “His daughter’s name is Maggie. His ex-wife’s a CitOne in New White Sands City. She’s a headshrinker for some corp or another.”

  “Why?” The eldest looks up at the soldier. “We took you in and then him. And this is how you pay us back?”

  “I did it, Eldest Tessa,” he says, his tone becoming conciliatory, “because there are things that make this situation a danger to more people than just us … than the tribe.”

  “Things? Like what?” I press him. “What kinds of things are we talking about here?”

  “Because Major Lee was a Hercules.” He says it without meeting my eyes, and then he meets me square. “You get that?”

  My mind spins.

  The entire Hercules Project had been listed as experimental development. There were rumors of Hercules units, a strike force of some kind. But nothing was ever confirmed. When the government fell, a lot of secret intel came out, a few images of project members circulated. It was assumed that the images were one-offs leaked from a tech facility. The entire project was a historical footnote lost in the uncaring flow of accreting data.

  But this is more than a footnote, dug up and shaken off. I recover from my surprise. “Do you have a dv alphanumeric or any more information on Baylen’s ex? I’d like to let her know in person that we’re working on getting both of them back safely.”

  “We are still laying claim to both sites.” The eldest adds in a firm tone.

  “This hole’s a toxic mess, Eldest Tessa. And the downed VTOL isn’t airworthy. I’ll buy the salvage from your tribe.”

  “We need medicine and supplies, not your damned dirty money,” Tessa snaps.

  “All right. I can arrange that. Let’s at least finish our negotiation in the shade.” I make my way to the far side of Baylen Lee’s field truck.

  Jen interrupts my thoughts, her voice slipping into my mind. “Sir. This is urgent.”

  “Put it through,” I subvocalize.

  “I have information regarding Balyen Lee’s wife. Name; Vanessa Hildebrandt, CitOne, her listed address is a Western View Ridge apartment, TopSide. She previously was employed by the city PD as a Psychologist and Psychiatrist. Four months ago, she transferred her contract to Viadan Corporation, a council certified mental health service provider. She is the only match in the city legal database as having a contract marriage to Baylen Lee, Noncitizen status, of no fixed address. The contract was amiably terminated five years ago. No request was processed for a CitCard for him because of the marriage. There isn’t anything else on file for Mr. Lee.”

  “He’s a SubFour Citizen, so that’s no surprise.” Why the urgency? “Forward what you have on Ms. Hildebrandt.”

  An image from her official Corporate ID pops up as a visual overlay.

  I know I tense up.

  “Recall Raven and Brios to AlphaPlaza immediately. Get Alex in on this. Tell him to post both of them on standby someplace out of town. Seal these files. Say nothing of this to anyone else without my permission.”

  “Understood.”

  I stare for a moment at the image. Raven stares back at me from inside the frame.

  3.04

  Vanessa Hildebrandt

  “That was fucked. You didn’t even try to bargain with her.” Picasso drops into the seat next to me as Angel lifts the AV back toward New White Sands City. “What the hell’s going on? Or is this more need-to-know-basis shit?”

  I pass our new destination to Angel who glances at it and nods.

  “You and I are going to retrieve Doctor Hildebrandt and take her to AlphaPlaza One.”

  He leans back, flexing the long blades down his forearms out of his jacket sleeves and yanks them back in with a snap. “Why am I along on this? In fact, don’t you have some song and dance council speech right now?”

  The blades snap loudly a few more times in rapid succession.

  It was a habit of his, like someone cracking their knuckles. If I didn’t know him, I’d think he was trying to intimidate me. “I rescheduled with the council. This takes precedence. Something came up that made capitulating to Eldest Tessa’s demands a better option. A trade-off for speed of action.”

  “Speed of action?” He laughs. “I’ve seen you haggle over fish hooks with a kid for an hour while the world burned around us. But here you drop a twelve-ton VTOL full of supplies like it was nothing.”

  “They were very good fish hooks.” The kid needed to see that at least some of us weren’t monsters. “In comparison to what’s going on, the supplies are nothing.” I tap a display to drop from the overhead. “Angel.”

  “Understood. Not a word about what follows, on pain of death….” She chuckles as she says it, but it’s a dark reminder of how fast things could change for the worse.

  “We don’t have anything on file for Baylen Lee, but Jen is scouring the network to see what she can find. She’s also gathering more intel on Doctor Hildebrandt, but I’ll show you what we have.” I slide the image of Vanessa Hildebrandt onto the screen for Picasso to see.

  “Why am I looking at a still frame of Sweetie? When’d she dye her hair?” He arches an eyebrow. “Not that I’m complaining. That blonde works on her….”

  “That isn’t Raven.” I take a deep breath. “That’s the image from Doctor Vanessa Hildebrandt’s CitOne corporate ID.”

  He stares silently at the image, jaw clenching. “You think Raven has a sister?”

  “I know you’re not stupid, just out of the loop.” I use one of his lines on him with a grimace. “But I appreciate that you didn’t just jump to the conclusion.”

  “Raven’s a fucking clone.” He says it bluntly but quietly. “I knew there was something off about her.”

  “Hey, here’s an idea Picasso,” Angel comments to him dryly. “You can use the fact that she’s a clone as your rationalization for why she doesn’t sleep with you. Even clones don’t like your style.”

  He snorts.

  I’m not letting it slip that I’ve known about Raven’s status as an illegal clone since before the NeoDetroit mission. I drag them both back on point. “It’s intel I’m giving you because you need to understand the context of the developing situation.”

  Picasso has to come to terms with the idea that his life has depended on an artificially-created being several times over the last few months. His 201 profile is the only reason I let him sit on it.

  A minute passes. His face shifts between frowning, angry, and blank expressions. Finally, he explodes a breath. “Harboring a known clone is what? A class two inter-corporate crime or something like that?”

  “And that’s why only a few people know,” I reply. “I wish there were fewer, but I’m not in a position to be killing my most needed people.”

  “Good to hear.” He leans forward and looks at me, his eyes projecting leaping flame. “Now what? How’s this tie in?”

  “It means that whoever created Raven and loaded her up as a cyber-assassin could have a number of other clones exactly like her planted as sleepers around the world in different Corporate Control Zones.”

  “A secret army of cloned killers? That plot’s been on dozens of crappy streaming shows.” His expression is loaded with skepticism.

  “On the surface it looks like a distant possibility.” I slide down the rest of the file for him to read. “But when you pair that with Philip Townsend, the arcology incident, and Raven’s ‘brother’… the distance between possibility and reality vanishes quickly.”

  The view of the cityscape flashes past the windows as we descend through the tower tops. Most corporate services are just opening for the day. Our logo and official business beacon bully us a space on the rooftop landing pad of a slab-sided TopSide tower.

  “Damn,” Angel says in barely a whisper as she toggles the door open. She tries not to grin at Picasso. “I guess I can cross sleeping with a cloned cyber-assassin off my bucket list.”

  He grumbles inarticulately at her as we step out.

  ˜˜˜

>   The office door barely closes behind the departure of my first patient when it opens abruptly with a simultaneous knock. The office receptionist says, “Excuse me, Doctor.”

  I pause the dictation program. My case notes will have to wait. “Yes, Sally?” I look up from my holo-screen and swallow my frustration at the interruption.

  “I have three messages for you.” Sally hovers near the door. “They all came in during your appointment.”

  At the start of the day? Maybe it was David calling about a change in our dinner plans. I don’t have implants and private lines are prohibited in the office during client meetings. “Three in the last hour?”

  “Yes, Doctor.” Sally sounds annoyed. “I was working on treatment confirmations from yesterday’s clients when they came in.”

  “Thank you.” We meet halfway between my desk and the door and she hands me an office handheld. She’s gone before I can read the first message.

  Please call Salvador.

  Please call Salvador. Urgent.

  Please call Eldest Tessa. Urgent.

  “Maggie.” My mouth tastes metallic and my blouse begins to stick to me with panicked sweat. I’m light headed. I’ve never gotten a call from the tribe’s eldest. It has to be bad. Aside from a button to call reception, I have one that summons security. My private dv is in my locker two floors away. Sally’s desk has the only dv connection in the office. The hallway is a blur as I make my way to her desk.

  “I’m sorry, sir, Doctor Hildebrandt cannot see anyone without an appointment.” I can hear Sally on the other side of the louvered security screen. “…and her appointment schedule is full until next week.”

  I reach the door. Two men are near the reception counter. One, dressed in a military outfit, looks like a character from a bad streaming show, while the other lounges behind him, full length leather jacket, long hair, and projection eyes with roiling flames. A classic CitOne bad boy poser, problem child, abusive parents. Broken.

  “I own AlphaTek Global Security,” the uniformed man says. “I’m not here to make an appointment. I need to speak to Doctor Hildebrandt about an urgent situation that’s developed.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I have protocols I have to follow.” Sally stands up. “If you don’t leave, I’ll have to escalate this by calling security.”

  “Please do,” the uniformed man says. “My company provides security for this entire tower. I’m sure it’ll get sorted out quickly.”

  I’m trying not to hyperventilate, and I stumble into the doorframe trying to get through. I wipe away tears. “What’s happened?” I ask.

  “I’m Basillio Ferdinand.” His expression is one of immediate recognition. “Call me Basillio. An urgent situation has developed involving your daughter and your ex-husband. You need to come with us. There are things we need to discuss in private.”

  “Yes, of course.” I struggle to keep some resolve in front of Sally, a CitTwo. I’ve worked too hard building a reputation as a successful CitOne to ruin it with an emotional outburst.

  “Good.” He looks at Sally. “See to it that the doctor’s things are sent to the rooftop AV pad immediately.”

  I wish I didn’t see the flashes of sympathetic looks from her.

  We make our way to the maglifts and up to the rooftop pad. As we approach the AV, a security guard hands me my things and I mumble my thanks.

  The high-end AV we climb into is covered with traces of the same colored dust that Maggie’s pants come home covered in.

  The pilot says nothing as we get airborne. She wastes no time putting us into a hard banking climb. We speed between towers until the massive white column of AlphaPlaza One fills the left side windows.

  I find my voice again, but it cracks as I ask, “What’s going on? What’s happened to Maggie?”

  Basillio and the other man exchange a quick look.

  “Maggie has been taken by an unknown agency.” He’s blunt. His face is set. “Your ex-husband is with her. He fought to stop them. We’re currently developing discovery and profiling, working to find out who these people are and, ultimately, where they’ve taken them.” He flicks a glance at me and then back to our flight path. “Any further information should wait until we can both hear the updates. I’ll be better positioned to act on that information after we arrive.”

  I stare at him, trying to process his words. Taken…. Maggie’s been taken. My fingers dig into the expensive seat padding.

  We spiral higher. The AV touches down on an upper lift pad that retracts into the building. Sweeping glass doors close around us.

  We wait as the man with the flaming eyes gets out first. Basillio offers me a hand. I see the other man flinch toward me as I reach for it. Twitchy guards might be good to have, but did he really think I was a threat? I write the behavior off as hypervigilance.

  For such a large pad, ours is the only vehicle. There’s no one here except us. I wobble my first step. I’m in AlphaPlaza because of a crisis. My family is in crisis….

  I’m led into a maglift. I fight my panic over what’s happened to Maggie.

  As the doors glide open, I realize that the maglift is actually an internal maglev that has shunted us down and sideways through the building.

  We step directly into a quiet support room. One wall of the room is nothing but a water feature nestled into lush green plants. Beyond the plants, the wall is a projection of endless tropical forest. A second wall is floor to ceiling tinted windows overlooking the Corporate Core, the city, and waters of the Gulf.

  A comfortable looking couch, a couple of low-slung chairs, and a few tastefully placed art pieces are set into the space.

  Everyone has seen support rooms on Streaming, but being in a real one makes my blood chill.

  Part of my mind rebels as I walk in. Understanding that the entire environment has been structured to evoke an emotion makes me chafe. I instantly hate the room because it tries to force a feeling onto me that I can’t bring myself to feel.

  Maggie might be dead, irrecoverable, or worse. Baylen. This is all his fault. He couldn’t even keep her safe. No one is safe in the Feral Lands. What was I thinking even allowing him visitation?

  “Please, have a seat.” Basillio motions to a chair. We sit with the low table between us; the top of which resolves into a cascade of satellite images. A polarizer activates and images vanish, they are for his eyes only. “I have a lot of questions. Your daughter is named Margret Elizabeth Lee?”

  I’m nodding even as he asks.

  He continues, “A tribe of non-citizens ranging to the west of New White Sands has indicated that her presence with them is at your consent?”

  I nod again.

  The man in the long coat steps past me and stands looking out the window at the city. I glance at his reflection. His eyes are now flickering embers. From this close he smells like a dangerous dust storm.

  “My ex is…” I try to articulate. “Well, he sometimes attaches himself to that particular tribe. And he has visitation rights.”

  Basillio taps on the screen in front of him. “Your ex, his tribal name is Slider. His legal name is Baylen Lee?”

  I add, “His full name is Baylen Tiberius Lee.”

  “Baylen Tiberius Lee.” He frowns. “His name doesn’t come up on any database.”

  “His name won’t be on a database. First, he’s no longer a citizen. Not since the collapse.” I look away. All this time and I’m still avoiding my feelings surrounding my broken relationship with Baylen. “Second, the branch of the military he served in was wiped out. All of their records were lost or destroyed, but I can tell you that his final rank was major.”

  “You were legally contracted as a couple,” Basillio says. “Married.”

  “It was only for a short time. I was in university, still figuring things out…. He has Maggie midweek as part of the settlement. Now what’s going on? Where are they? Do you know if she’s been hurt?” I tell myself that if I’m crying, the tears are a result of the room’s layout conf
licting with my emotional state.

  “We’re working to track them.” He frowns. “I have a few more questions. Then I can put together an appropriate recovery team.”

  My frustration, my need to know, and the subtle pressure of the environment make me snap. “I want to know what’s happened.”

  Eyes glittering, the black jacketed figure leans forward. “Does Baylen own power armor?”

  “What?” I’m surprised. “Power armor? No. No.” It hits me: they wouldn’t ask unless they didn’t know. Of course they wouldn’t know.

  Basillio sighs. “Baylen isn’t listed in the surviving military archives.”

  “I told you that already.” I’m concerned that all of the focus is on Baylen and not Maggie. Basillio mentioned Baylen fought. Just not hard enough. I grow cold. Maybe someone came for him because of his past.

  “What branch did he serve in?” Basillio asks.

  “Space Corp. Under command of the Air Force.” I shake my head. “And you won’t find him in the rolls for that either.”

  Basillio stops his search. “How do you know he ever served? Is it possible he could’ve lied to you about his service background?” He seems to be evaluating my responses to his words. “He wouldn’t be the first tribal to do that, lying to get a citizenship.”

  “No, not Baylen, you don’t know him.” I shake my head. “Why all this focus on Baylen? What about my daughter?”

  My dv chimes. I scramble to pull it out of my bag. Basillio steeples his fingers, his eyes going distant as he stares at the plants.

  “Hello.” I can’t keep tension from my voice.

  “Nessa? Here I thought I’d leave a message for you to hear at lunch and instead I got you. I managed to get a reservation….”

  “David.” I’m not sure if I should feel relieved or worried that it’s not Salvador or Eldest Tessa. “David, wait … please listen to me. Maggie is missing. I can’t—”

  He cuts me off. “Missing? In the Feral Lands? I told you that bastard couldn’t be trusted.” He pushes forward into anger. “Where are you?”

  “I’m with AlphaTek sitting in a support room.” My voice shakes.