by Ron Bender
“When do I get to link to their data. I hate working blind.”
“I submitted a request and Basillio himself has approved it. You will have access in a few moments.”
We make our way along the wide plaza, small casinos, massage parlors, bars, and restaurants line either side. The sounds and smells remind of a county fair I went to once as a kid. Except the air here is canned, the music more syncopated, and the entertainment far less family friendly.
“This is a free port,” Morochevsky says. “Items, services, and goods are exempt from duties and taxes. However, everything is riddled with layers of bureaucratic fees. It is a good place for corruption to grow.”
“And business is probably booming,” I reply. The whole plaza is what Nelson would have described as ‘Shady as hell.’
I watch scantily clad women waving at workers, trying to get them to come in for a massage.
But it’s an incoming com-link ping that gets my full attention. “Baylen Lee?” a woman asks. “My name is Lexi and I am the hat on this mission.”
I ask point blank, “How much experience have you had doing these kinds of things?”
“That’s a fair question and I’m not offended by your asking.” She sounds young. “I have the equivalent of eight years experience at this aspect of my job.”
“What else do you do?”
“I monitor hundreds of thousands of network communications per second, on a global scale, and forward condensed reports to a development team. Later in the process I return to include further insight. The completed reports go to a predictive actions committee, and I work with them to develop multiple contingency plans based on a list of specific goals and corporate approved outcomes.”
I blink. “You’re an AI.” I’m surprised they let me have that intel. It makes me wonder what Basillio is playing at.
“Yes,” Lexi replies curtly. “More specifically, I am a Narrow AI with deliberative reasoning that specializes in a number of discrete aspects of AlphaTek leverageable military operations.”
‘Leverageable military operations.’ …Lexi is an upgraded version of Arturo, the hat I had when I served. “Good enough.”
“Good,” she replies. “I’ll begin by requesting a visual link with you. I’ll provide as much real-time data flow as I have.”
“You’re in the cam system for Liberty?” I know this will make things easier.
“Yes. While I do not have visual confirmation of Bransen’s whereabouts, I do have a cam link showing David Hall’s arrival.”
“Do it.” I provide an access code with an automatic time-out feature. A few seconds later and a pop-up window appears. The cam location, section and passage number scroll along the bottom of the image. I watch as Hall makes his way along the airlock lobby. He’s carrying a small case tethered to his wrist. I imagine it’s full of eCash chips or hardfold.
“He’s heading counter spin toward a main spoke connector,” Lexi says. “There are a number of available passages for him to take from there.”
Morochevsky nods once at me and starts to move. “Pull up a schedule of all passenger-capable vehicles docking in the next hour.”
“Here is the revised list based on which are also carrying inbound passengers, cross-indexed with those taking on passengers prior to leaving.” A list flows beside the image.
We don’t wait for a maglift and instead take the passenger corridor between our wheel and the next.
The list narrows to five craft.
“This is a truncated list based on which airlocks have upcoming availability in the section that David Hall is moving toward.”
As we hurry the crowd around us thickens. Passengers and various crew push and sift themselves in a mass of colored uniforms and utilitarian clothing. I can look over the heads of most people and begin to push my way through the throng. My target is the next interconnecting passage, offset from the one we just left.
“Any sign of Bransen or any of his men?” I ask.
On the cam feed, more people are moving along the wheel, flowing past the shops and food outlets. David pushes his way further into the crowd and hovers near the line leading to a secondary docking ring.
“Have we tracked the next inbound craft’s point of origin?”
“Yes. I am running background and ownership registration, cross-indexed with stolen, chartered, leased and subleased information. Nothing is out of the ordinary. I will forward the data to you.”
On the cam, people drift around slightly in the micro-gravity. David moves easily like he’s been here before. The secondary lock opens and in the flow and mix of people, I lose sight of him.
“Lexi, where is he? I’ve lost Hall.”
“David Hall is moving. His current direction has changed. He has taken a side passage lift with other passengers.” Our visual vanishes, skips over several different views before finding Hall once more.
Morochevsky is on his com-link with the men who have secured the lift areas. “The target is in maglift South two-three sierra.”
He looks at me as we hustle along. “Hall’s behavior is erratic. He may believe he is being followed.”
“The men identified as potentially part of Bransen’s unit have departed on a variety of ships travelling to multiple locations over the last thirty minutes.” Lexi adds, “The remaining mercenaries are extended along the path of the axle maglift.”
“Stay alert.” Morochevsky pips our squad the visual along with the status report. “There are possible hostiles at the maglift areas.”
“What’s the average time, open door to open door, for the lift?”
Lexi replies, “The average lift time with loading and unloading of passengers is eight point seven seconds and the average lift speed is fifteen meters ascending per second.”
“What are you thinking?” Morochevsky asks.
I shoulder my way toward a spoke connection passage. “There’s a hatch around here that will lead into a cargo passage. It should run the length of the axle and down the main spokes. It’s for hauling replacement components and heavy equipment. If we can access it, we can get ahead of him.”
“It will be sealed. We will have to bypass station security and electronically breach the doors.”
A young man’s voice comes over the com-link. “If you mean the hatch ahead of you on the far right-hand side. It’ll be open when you arrive.”
“Who are you?” I ask as my stride gets longer. Morochevsky picks up his pace.
“Jimmy the Slip,” the voice says. “But … uh … you can just call me Jimmy.”
“You a pro? A hat?” I ask him. “Or does someone have a take your kid to work day?”
“I’m a hat, a hacker, a coder extraordinaire.” The kid laughs at me. “Now I don’t know you from shit, buddy. But I haven’t dished on you, so stop being a dick, and I’ll let you in.”
Basillio’s voice cuts over the line. “Open the door Jimmy.”
“I don’t like people running their mouth at me, boss. It’s kind of an honor code. He can say sorry for being a dick, can’t he?”
“James. Open the door.” Basillio says. “Lee, Jimmy is our best on-the-fly network hacker. He’s here helping out.”
“Sorry, Jimmy.” I say as I stop in front of the wide cargo hatch. “I’m under a lot of pressure here. Maybe no one’s told you. I’m up here looking for my little girl.”
“No, they hadn’t.” Jimmy’s reply is quiet. “Apology accepted. Let’s open some doors.”
˜˜˜
Jimmy is as good as his word. The hatch and all the bulkhead hatches dilate open as I hurl toward them. Morochevsky is the only one of the team who comes along. The rest of the men move to secure different sections and organize fall-back lines in case things turn ugly.
I grab a side rail and push off using the rams in all my limbs. “Lexi, which floor is Hall’s lift at now?”
“The maglift has just closed its doors will arrive at the next junction shortly. Your exit is on the left. His is o
n the opposite side of the central column.”
The cam view shows a bobbing crowd, everyone controlled, and loosely floating in a line.
Just under nine seconds to make contact. As I look back, the Russian is on my six.
“I’ll handle any mercs who move,” I say. “If Bransen is watching him specifically, they won’t know you.”
“Understood.”
We’re through the hatch and out. Some of the crowd are startled to see us arrive out of the cargo hatch. We set off a small wave of movement like a ripple in water.
“Lexi. Give me a target?” It’s a tough looking crowd and I’d hate to wipe the floor with innocent bystanders.
“Ahead of you.” A red hexagon floats over the image of a guy on my cam view. I spot him against a back wall and get ready to vault over the crowd to get to him.
The lift opens.
“David Hall is exiting the lift.”
I don’t hear anything from Morochevsky.
The silence is all I need to know. Something has slipped.
“Update.” I say as I continue to close with the merc.
The Russian whispers, “David Hall is not here.”
I turn to look at the faces of everyone getting out of the maglift. The guy with the case tethered to him is twenty feet away from me. It’s doesn’t look like Hall. I match the thermal image I took of Hall when we first met. The veins in this guy’s face don’t match. This isn’t Hall. I check the recorded cam view on my optics and stop. I cut the com-link with Lexi and look at each again. The man on screen, easing his way in micro-gravity is David Hall. The other … isn’t.
Morochevsky’s face is a grim mask. He moves toward me. “Lexi,” he says aloud, “Where is David Hall?”
Her reply is quick. “David Hall is directly in front of you.”
Our hat, Lexi is being fed real-time false images. We’re being hacked.
Morochevsky starts to subvocalize with someone on his com-link, probably his boss.
“Jimmy,” I say. “You’re human, right?”
“If you’re asking if I’m an AI, the answer is no,” he replies. “I’m flesh and bone. Gooey and fallible.”
“Are you seeing what’s going on?” I keep an eye on the mercenary-looking guy propped against the wall. He looks bored. Bored and for hire.
Jimmy answers, “Yeah. It looks like Hall just moved past you guys.”
We need to find the problem. Now.
“Sending you a direct link to my optics.”
“Sure,” he says. After second. “What the hell? What is that? That’s not him.”
“Jimmy, can you run a complete diagnostic on Liberty’s security system?”
“You think cam security is breached on the station?” An image of Jimmy appears in place of the footage. He’s a kid, but he’s wearing a New White Sands City University t-shirt.
“Yeah.”
“It’ll take a bit of time, but I can check.” He vanishes.
Behind me, I hear Morochevsky saying, “We are blind and do not have enough men to do a full security sweep. I have stationed troops at each docking ring and am requesting a pursuit ship be placed on standby for our use.” I don’t hear the reply. The Russian must still be talking to Basillio.
This whole thing has turned up cold. Now I’m wondering if the footage of Bransen getting onto the LEO craft in Texas is even accurate.
Morochevsky turns to me and says, “We are reviewing all of the footage including the earthside feed showing both Bransen and Hall on the lift pads. Hall should be here.”
I ask him, “How do you know for sure?”
“Voice print and signal trace place him en route….” His voice trails away.
“You tapped his dv.” I say it, I don’t ask it.
“It was calculated that he would try something. We did not know what. It was an acceptable risk to track both Doctor Hildebrandt’s and his datavices. His signal led us here. Archived cam footage showed Bransen boarding a LEO craft bound for this location. Hall removed a considerable sum of money on an eCash transfer chip and also came to Liberty.”
“Then where are they, Colonel?” I ask. “Hiding in a trash compactor someplace?”
“We shall see.”
That’s as much of an apology or explanation as I’ll get. The crowd has thinned out. The next vessel docking is a cargo shunt. Staff in Liberty Transfer Platform outfits arrive with power lifters and cargo netting, waiting to get to work.
He says, “This is a setback.”
“I need a drink.” I start heading away from the lobby, from him.
“Da.” He moves to join me.
“Not with you,” I say sharply. “I’m about done with you and your boss.”
I make my way back to the wheel, its bars, and its glittery lights. My expression is enough to let me move unhindered into the first bar I find. I duck through the hatch and order a double.
Even my back-up plan would have failed. Maybe Vanessa’s right. Maybe I’m a useless antique. Past my prime. Out of my depth.
Maggie’s the only good thing I’ve got going and I’m not letting her go. Not like this.
3.19
Family Ties
I grew up in mid-town and since university I’ve lived TopSide, except for my two stints at the TruckStop. I’ve forgotten how fast sun set comes outside the city.
I stumble forward over unseen rocks. The nomad camp has gone quiet; only a few small fires burn inside half-buried metal drums. The light casts orange-gold onto the leaves under the dense trees and glows off of random vehicles parked here and there around me. Heavily tanned and tattooed nomads sit around the fires on folding chairs and battered ancient metal coolers. They speak among themselves of today’s accomplishments and tomorrows tasks. Many of them are sipping from cans and jugs as they clean an assortment of guns and other weapons.
The smell of cooking food makes my stomach grumble. One of the women comes over with a full plate. I smile my thanks and eat as I look for Picasso.
When he turns, he becomes easy to spot, his eyes flame in the darkness next to the Eldest’s trailer. I make my way over to him.
Tessa is standing with him. I get the feeling that I’ve interrupted their conversation. They’re both silent as I approach.
“Eldest.” I nod at her.
She gives me a wide smile. “Time by the creek helped your headspace?”
“I don’t know about that.” I feel tentative; still upset; only my targets have changed. “Maybe it’s my lot in life to always be angry at something.”
“I’ve known people who were always angry,” she says. “You’re not one of them. I think you just need to slow down and think about what’s really important.”
“I’ll try Eldest.” I’m resistant to the idea that she can be right about my needs. “But I won’t make any promises.”
“Like anything in life, if it’s important enough to you, you’ll find a way.” She peers up at me from the dark.
I’m grateful that Picasso interrupts. “I’m still waiting for you, Eldest. Wolf will want to know your answer.”
“If trouble comes here looking for her?” She meets his gaze but tips her head toward me. “I’ve said she’s Maggie’s mother. That makes her part of the family already, and family will look after their own.”
“Wolf said to be ready.” He sounds angry. “To me that means we should prepare for the worst now. There won’t be time later.”
Tessa’s voice holds no urgency. “The family knows what to do. In fact, we’ve been taking action since you arrived.”
Picasso turns his gaze across the camp behind me. “I see people at summer camp. Not people ready to fight.”
“We are nomads, Picasso.” Her voice grows large with pride. “We’ve fought for everything here. Our freedom, and every damned thing we own. We’re always ready to fight. We may not want to, but we’re alwaysready. That’s what it means to be free; to be ready to what it takes to stay that way.”
He looks back
at her unimpressed.
“Now, when CitOne hunters come to the park, what is an animal’s best defense?” she asks.
“Hide?” I reply.
“No, to be out of season, but hiding is a good answer.” She snorts at her own humor. “An animal’s best defense is to not be where the hunter is looking. That and let the hunter have a different target.”
He ponders a moment and says, “I get it.”
“Well I don’t.” I’m frustrated now and nearly finished with being pushed, pulled, and told. “Care to be clear, Mr. I get it?”
“We leave camp.” His eyes flicker crimson light. “Anyone looking for you won’t find you because you won’t be here.”
Part of my mind stumbles through the logic. “But someone will have to be?”
“That’s right.” Tessa smiles grimly. “Now I had a few women put supplies together for both of you. There’re in packs by the edge of camp.”
“If they come here and can’t find us they’ll kill everyone.” I get to the only end of the plan I can come to.
“They might.” Her tone is filled with contempt for her unknown attackers. “But as I said we nomads are always ready to fight.”
“But are you ready to die?” Picasso asks. “Ready to die…. For her?”
“She’s family Picasso.” Tessa is slowly climbing the steps to her trailer. “And any fight where you pick up a weapon automatically becomes one in which you should be ready to die. It is simply how that works.”
My brain and stomach flip at the same time. “I don’t want anyone dying because of me.”
“Of course not.” She climbs to the top step. “Don’t worry, we won’t be. Shandra? Shandra don’t you be try’n play me. I know you’re back there. Come out girl.”
The slim figure of a teenaged girl melts out of the darkness.
“You been eavesdropping again?” The Eldest’s tone is blunt.
“What if I were?” the girl retorts.
“You know it’s rude?” The old woman half-asks half-tells.
“Yes Eldest.” The girl bows her head.
“I forgive you this time only because you need to know how serious this all is.” Tessa extends a hand to the girl who takes it with a squeeze. “But understand that eavesdropping is still rude.”