by Jason Mather
“It would seem.”
The dynamic between them had changed, it was obvious by her demeanor. The power had shifted in his favor. So much power. He didn’t want it… or at least, he didn’t think he did.
“So where do we go now?” he asked
“Back to Denver. I still can’t contact my friend. We need the equipment I have at home.”
“Wait a minute, I’m not sure I want to go anywhere else with you.”
“The deal was to retrieve the sphere and transport it to Denver. Are you reneging on our deal, Hans? Besides, where else are you going to get medical help for your little pet?” There was a sneer in her voice.
“Don’t call her that!” His voice sounded petulant, even to him. Onyx smirked and turned away.
“Relax, Hans, I’m only teasing. It was an honorable thing you did. I hope she understands that when she wakes up.”
Hans continued to sulk. “We have another problem though. This car doesn’t have much juice left. It’s a city car, they don’t charge them enough to drive long distances.”
“Put the sphere on the dashboard.”
“Why?” He felt a moment of embarrassment at his selfish reluctance.
“Relax. Why would I take it from you? We’ll need it still and you’re the only one who can use it. I just want to show you another feature.”
“Feature or side effect?”
“This one was planned.”
Hans did as she asked. It adhered, sat improbably on the angled dashboard. The car’s charge bar grew, topping at one hundred percent.
“That’s pretty handy. Can it power anything?” Hans asked.
“I’m not sure of its upper limits. Again, it’s untested.”
“How long ‘til it runs out of juice?”
“You’d be long dead by then.”
— «» —
It took most of the day to gather the essentials. Grit didn’t want to use her assigned jumpcraft, wanting to stay off the radar. The medical team worked quickly and efficiently removing internal comms. The older externals were in cold storage in a warehouse. She waited for them to arrive, procured the first two for herself and Gino.
It was evening by the time they left with Gino flying, licensed but rusty. He nearly banged the tail against the ground, receiving a warning light and a jerk as the craft self-corrected. At his sheepish look in her direction, she mimed flying the craft herself, eyes questioning. Gino grunted that he could handle it.
It was only few minutes to Onyx’s citadel; Grit always thought of it that way. She’d been there a few times, usually surreptitiously. Mutual respect made them allies, if not friends. Grit knew she was a criminal, but was a matter of the devil you know. Onyx had removed the previous organization, a much crueler and more opportunistic bunch, willing to engage in anything as long as money could be made. Grit and Onyx’s partnership benefitted them both greatly, Grit’s success giving her more control and autonomy, Onyx raking in cash for high tech smuggling.
When Onyx had contacted her fourteen months ago for help in procuring a stolen item, Grit had initially balked; too much involvement. But Onyx revealed a chance to strike at John Brigham, a man with absolutely no integrity or decency. He’d been trying to gain a foothold in Denver for years. Much of Grit’s and Onyx’s joint operations directly involved keeping him out.
Onyx’s intelligence surpassed anything Grit could obtain through official sources, her info and Grit’s muscle keeping Brigham at bay. The lost item would have given him all he needed to break through, according to Onyx. Grit couldn’t allow that. She’d seen his operations in Salt Lake, received copious reports on the broken minds and bodies he left in his wake.
It must have been just a fluke that Hans had walked in during the exchange, cosmic happenstance. Brigham tried a double-cross, not really surprising. What did surprise her was the ferocity of it. Scanners had barely registered the weapons system. Something slightly bigger than a man, though more squat, more spheroid. The surprise was compounded by her amateurish reliance on tracking the various players through internal ID tags. It was so rare and dangerous to have one removed that she’d grown complacent in her use of them, allowing Hans under the radar, a mistake that had cost two undercover soldiers their lives, and nearly killed Hans and Onyx. A mistake Grit wouldn’t make again.
Onyx was coy about how she’d escaped.
Onyx was now Grit’s best guess for Hans’ location. The portable he left had still been open to Grit’s summary of her. Did he have a chance to read the profile on Brigham? Grit hoped so, hoped Hans kept far away. Hoped Onyx hadn’t killed him for being himself.
Gino requested landing permission from Onyx’s citadel. Approval came back.
Her jaw ached, ebbs and flows of sharp fire. Nothing for it. She’d not brought any painkillers.
Gino released the controls, handing them over to Onyx’s landing computers. The jumpcraft came down on the roof gently, and docking clamps engaged. The engine cut and whined to halt. They felt thrumming beneath the jumpcraft as the landing bay descended into the building. The roof closed overhead. A slight jerk, then the descent stopped. Gino unstrapped, headed back to open the doors. Nothing but black out the window, then lights came on, bathing the bay in sharp fluorescence. She unstrapped and followed Gino.
A lit path was pulsing on the floor just outside the door, leading to an open hallway. They followed. The wall opened into a hallway, the lit path darkening behind them as they passed, staying lit twenty feet ahead. A hundred feet, then a corner, fifty to another, then the wall opened into Onyx’s personal quarters, strikingly different from the rest of the building. Open loft, woodcuts on the wall, and two whole walls with floor–to-ceiling windows. The path stopped them at the lounge area, next to a pair of large, expensive-looking couches.
Grit took a seat, motioned for Gino to do the same.
“Make ourselves at home, huh?”
He settled in next to her, sitting stiffly as she lounged back. A door in the wall opened, admitting Onyx’s assistant, Elena. In her many visits here Grit had never seen more than two other people, Elena and a large bodyguard who never spoke a word. According to Onyx, the building was mostly automated, the lion’s share of its interior taken up by computers and manufacturing. What it made Grit had never learned.
“Can I get you a drink?” Elena asked them.
“A beer, something you can’t see through, and some vodka.” Gino spoke for her, knowing what she drank. Elena nodded and disappeared back into the bowels of the building.
“Do you think she’s here?”
Grit just shrugged, pulled out her portable, typed.
She likes to make an entrance.
Gino had never been here, Grit usually came alone. If he was impressed or disconcerted, he hid it well.
Elena returned with the drinks. Gino took a large swig of beer, and wiped off his lip. Grit sipped her vodka. Fantastic stuff. Grit’s appreciation of Onyx’s homemade spirit had gone a long way toward cementing their alliance.
Another door opened, music wafting out. Onyx entered, dressed severely, all in black, her usual business attire, smiling and extending both her hands. Grit rose to greet her.
— «» —
I am here.
“Finally, what happened?”
There was a… malfunction… it was necessary to cut off contact to avoid further outside corruption.
“You picked a hell of a time to disconnect.”
He used the sphere?
“Correct.”
No ill effects?
“None so far. Were there supposed to be?”
No, but it was the first test, and we’ve already discovered unplanned side effects.
“True. I don’t want him hurt.”
Nor do I. Currently we have another problem. I cannot access the factory.
“Nothing?”
Nothing. Something is blocking me. These continued intrusions are very disconcerting.
“Do we have another option
?”
The sphere.
— «» —
The sun went down behind a lingering haze of dust behind them, the evening of the longest day of his life. Hans drowsed behind the wheel, the car heading up the interstate on autopilot, a bug among the behemoths of the hundred-foot long cargo transports, unmanned beasts drafting each other at mere inches to save energy. The night continued to darken, the road dead straight into the horizon.
Onyx grabbed his shoulder, rousing him from a dream of home.
“Huh?” He wiped at his eyes.
“We have a problem.”
“We? Did your friend return?”
“Yes, with bad news. We cannot access my home base.”
“I don’t follow.” He wanted to go back to sleep, to dream of something besides this nightmare. He turned to the back; Lorilei was still unconscious. She’d been out for a very long time. Hans was beginning to doubt she’d ever wake.
“The building in Denver, it’s been cut off.”
“Who could do something like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“And neither does your friend.” It wasn’t a question.
“No.” Strain around her eyes, permeating her voice.
“What could do that?” the same question, repeated mostly to himself.
“I don’t know,” she said, almost panicky. No more questions. He had to stay level-headed.
“OK, OK, Yana. Relax, we’ll handle it.” He was hoping she’d ask him to use the sphere, hoping she wouldn’t. He put a hand on her shoulder. She brushed it off. At least she didn’t stab him.
“You can get in, with the sphere.”
There it was, his opportunity. “What do I do?”
“Find out what is blocking us and remove it.”
— «» —
Instant interface. Long distance, longer than he’d tried. No problem. Find the network cell towers, follow to satellite uplink. Couldn’t resist accessing the camera on the satellite. A spectacular view, sun glinting on the horizon, continent lit up with millions of access points. Denver was easy to spot, the brightest point in the central continent. Down the beam, central networking system. Terabytes of information whizzing past him, carrying him. Snippets of conversation, videos, money transfers, music, confidential information, medical files, personnel files. Ignore them, behave. Remember who you are. You’re not a voyeur. Onyx’s building gleaming, a sun among planets, security levels far beyond anything he’d seen. Didn’t matter, he was in almost instantly, searching for the corruption, finding something unexpected.
Greta.
— «» —
They shook hands and Onyx almost hugged her. Grit’s defenses went up. Onyx wasn’t the touchy-feely type. An act? For whose benefit? Ignore it for now. Greta turned to Gino. Gino read her eyes; Something hinky. On your guard.
Onyx sat down with a flourish, Elena entering with a drink, a case of cigarettes. Onyx lit up, offered the case. Gino took one, Grit didn’t smoke. Drinks were sipped.
“Welcome friends, what can I do for you today?” The voice hers in pitch and timber, completely wrong in rhythm and cadence. Was she drunk, drugged?
Gino took the lead. “We’re looking for Greta’s brother, Hans. We think he might have come here.”
“Why, Greta, I didn’t know you had a brother. Is he in trouble?” A lie. Greta had said something in passing a few times. Onyx never forgot. Another glance at Gino, a sub-perceptible shake of his head. He knew.
“He may be,” Gino continued, “so he hasn’t been here?”
“Why would he come here?” A flourish of her arms, encompassing the room, the building. “And, if I may be so bold, why am I discussing this with a lackey?” There was a cruel gleam in her eyes now, but Gino was unperturbed.
“The commander is currently unable to speak.”
“Oh, yes, I see now,” she said, as if she had completely missed the bandage on Greta’s face. Onyx didn’t miss details.
She stood, crossed the few feet, grabbed Grit’s chin between her fingers, and leaned in close, practically stroking the black bandage. “Why, dear Grit, who would mar such a visage? Angry boyfriend?”
Grit jerked back. This was all wrong. Onyx was an ally, maybe even a friend. Something was desperately wrong here. Grit stood, gestured to Gino. They were leaving.
Sudden pain. Onyx’s fingers were under the hard shell of the bandage, pulling. It tore away from Grit’s jaw, drops of blood spattering her and Onyx’s faces. Grit brought her hand up, swinging defensively. Onyx moved back, drew something black and sharp. She nearly caught Grit off guard. Nearly. Grit sidestepped the slash, grabbed the wrist, broke it, and took Onyx to the floor. Onyx had to be drunk. Grit had seen her fight, she shouldn’t have been that easy to disarm.
Gino drew his gun and stood over her. Onyx made no noise, lay still, didn’t breathe. There was no way she was dead, but checking for a pulse would be stupid. Grit crossed the room to the door. It opened a second later, the bodyguard coming through with weapon drawn. Grit took it from him and broke his leg at the knee with her boot. He went down in a heap, dead still. She exchanged another confused glance with Gino. At least the door was open.
“Most rude of you, Greta. I thought we were friends,” Onyx said, though not the one on the floor. Another door had opened, and another Onyx entered, dressed the same, carrying a rifle Grit didn’t recognize. Compact, cold blue, vicious-looking. Onyx swung, fired from the hip, predictably firing wide. Vicious heat seared Grit’s face, melting the wall. Grit drew her service pistol, aiming high in case of armor, and put two bullets in Onyx’s face, plus one in the throat from Gino.
Silent for a moment.
“I assume this hasn’t happened before?” Gino’s attempt at levity fell flat.
The lights went out. Things got weirder.
— «» —
Hans was stunned by what he encountered. The whole building was a circuit. A solid mass of infinitely reprogrammable circuitry, its paths and connections changed with the merest thought, completely malleable, multipurpose. He located Greta, wanted to see her, and the walls obliged.
Onyx’s living quarters were more extensive than he’d realized on his visit. Moving through darkness he found three bodies on the floor, no ID tags, signatures different from what he was seeing from Grit and Gino, who’d donned lightweight goggles to see in the dark. Grit taking a rifle from one of the bodies. Hans tried to zoom in, identify the body. Something blocked him. Static defenses? Someone else with a sphere? The body remained a black silhouette.
“Grit’s in your building, something attacked her,” he said to Onyx, in the passenger seat.
“Unexpected.” He couldn’t tell whether her response was to him or her unseen comrade.
“We need to get her out of there.”
“Agreed. Where is she?”
“In your apartment.”
“The landing bay is nearby, check it for her jumpcraft.”
A quick check. Jumpcraft in hanger, still warm. Hans started it, activated its static defenses, and locked its security down so it would only recognize Grit and Gino. Then it was time to call his sister.
— «» —
“Grit, you there?” A familiar voice came through her comm. Hans?
“Yeah, that you, Hans?” Her voice was muffled, slurred, painful. But she could talk without the bandage.
“It’s me.”
“You sure?” Onyx hadn’t been Onyx, why should Hans be Hans?
“Sure as I can be. You need to get out of there.”
“No shit. Where are you? How’d you get through to this comm?” The cadence of his voice said Hans. Grit went with her gut, trusted him. One more step down the rabbit hole.
“I’m opening a path back to your jumpcraft. Do you remember the way?”
“Yes.”
“Good. You should move, something’s moving your way en masse.”
Grit signaled Gino. Exit, post haste. He nodded and took point, always a gentleman, mov
ing cautiously out to the hallway.
The door shut between them, cutting the bodyguard in half.
— «» —
Something fought him for control, something with his capacities, or nearly. Hans tried to lock down doors and elevators, only to have them power up just as quickly. He couldn’t keep up with them, needed to narrow his focus, get Grit out. Screw the rest of the building, clear the corridor for Grit. He could not view what was coming toward their location, knew only that it was too big to be pods. He hoped that was a good thing.
Emergency, Gino in the hallway, Grit trapped inside. Divide and conquer. Get the door open. Fighting the presence, helped by its spread focus, but still barely gaining control. Opening the door, which shut again before Grit could exit. Afraid it would cut her in half, but Grit solved the problem for him.
— «» —
No time to consider, just react. Grit stood back with the rifle. Gunshots from the corridor. Hold ‘em, Gino. She took aim at the door, fired. The door sagged, softened. She fired again, liquefying the carbon structure. Immense heat radiated and she fired once more. The door finally collapsed, almost sloughing to the floor. Gino stood beyond, firing intensely into the dark. A short jump over the melted heap, and she tapped Gino on the shoulder. Calculated retreat. He moved back, Grit turned to cover. A nightmare was coming up the hallway.
Bodies were filling the hallway, clambering for space, moving forward. Naked bodies, sterile bodies, clothing-less, genital-less. An army of mannequins. She shouldered and fired, the gun immolating great swaths, the smell of burnt flesh wafting back down the hallway. Greta continued to fire. The bodies in front burnt, fell, fused, a barrier of flesh. Impenetrable, for the time being. Gino whistled, and Greta fell back to a corner.
— «» —
“What does your building do?” Hans asked.
“I don’t follow.” Onyx was playing dumb.
“It’s factory. What does it make? Pods?”
“Among other things.”
“I don’t have time for you to be coy. Something is in control of your factory,” his face was slack, distracted, mind fighting somewhere else, “What happens if it gains control? Fifty feet to the hanger, move, Grit!”