“Yeah, they ordered us to. The rifles too.”
“That’s not their armor, that’s your armor…” Lisa clenched her jaw and balled up her fists. “Dammit,” she hissed. “You are a UFW liaison officer - that’s your personal equipment.
“They said it looks too military when we go into some of the areas…”
“Yeah, I get the picture,” she snapped, interrupting again. “They’re pandering to the whiners. Does this have anything to do with the Mayor?”
“It might, I don’t know… The orders just come down from the brass.”
Lisa made a face of derision. “I can’t imagine the brass deciding on their own to deny free equipment for the troops. Lights,” commanded Lisa, rising to her feet. Gus rolled over and blinked at her, appearing perturbed at the sudden wash of light, squinting. Lisa grabbed an edge of her MOBIUS holo-screen and tossed it at the big screen on the wall, the live video transferring nearly instantly. “MOBI, connect me with the Mayor of Chicago… split screen.”
It took a moment to connect to the Mayor’s MOBIUS and for him to answer. When his face appeared in the video frame next to Bobby’s, his expression went from friendly to darkened. “Oh, it’s you…” he grumbled, “you’re the woman who shot me with that laser rifle.” He waved her off dismissively, “I’m in a meeting…”
“You’re meeting can wait, Mr. Mayor. However, what we need to discuss cannot.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaled deeply and shook his head, “Fine. Make it quick.”
Lisa folded her arms defiantly and raised one eyebrow, “You seemed to forget who has been supplying you things like that snazzy little gadget you’re wearing on your wrist…”
“I really have more important things on my agenda for today, young lady,” he said with an air of superiority.
“How about electricity?” Prompted Lisa. “Is that important enough? Or have you forgotten what happened to your city without it...? And who restored it for you?” The Mayor attempted to remain smug, but Lisa could see the flinch.
“What is it you need, young lady?” he asked with an air of exasperation.
“Why has the equipment we delivered for the police department, been removed from service?”
“Is that what your friend, the Sergeant, told you?” The Mayor shrugged casually, “It’s not necessary. We’re trying to reduce the aggressive appearance of the police department and make them more community friendly. We need the officers to be more socially rejuvenating than oppressive. Besides, the equipment is at their stations if they actually need it…”
“Safely stored under lock and key, no doubt...?”
“Of course.”
Lisa rubbed her forehead, “So, do you keep your car’s spare tire locked up in your garage for safekeeping? I mean you could always go home and get it if you have a flat tire… right?”
“No of course not, that would be stupi…”
“Stupid,” she chorused with him. “Right. As stupid as having to run back to the Precinct house for critical gear that could save your life when bullets start flying around.”
“That’s not the same thing, and you know it,” he countered. “We’re trying to…”
“Score points with your constituents for votes,” Lisa jabbed, “at the risk of the men and women who protect your city from ruin…” A man walked past, behind the Mayor, dressed in the alien body armor supplied to the police department. “What the hell… Who was that?”
The Mayor looked around, pretending not to notice, his face several shades lighter. “Who are you referring to?”
“The man, who I’m guessing is one of your bodyguards, Mr. Mayor…”
“He has six,” added Bobby from the other video frame.
“Wearing the police-issue body armor we supplied for the department,” continued Lisa. “Good enough to protect you, but not your officers, hmm?” She folded her arms, “Here’s the deal, I want that equipment released to the officers - out on the street where it can save a life and let officers return home to their families…”
“You want? He chortled. “In case you haven’t noticed, young lady, this is my city. Are you telling me how to run my city?”
Lisa grinned slyly, “As a matter of fact, yes.”
“I don’t see that happening…”
Lisa put her hands on her hips. “Oh it will. And Lieutenant Fortuno and Sergeant Omanski will be monitoring this for me…”
“Sergeant Fortuno…” countered the Mayor.
“Let’s make that Captain Fortuno,” waved Lisa.
“What?” laughed the Mayor - are you trying to tell the elected Mayor of Chicago…”
“Commander Fortuno and Lieutenant Omanski. I can keep going, Mr. Mayor.”
“This is ridiculous,” he shouted, “you have no authority…”
Lisa folded her arms in anger, “Let me explain the current facts of life to you, sir - and you’d better listen closely…”
“I will not… this, this is absurd…”
“Keep talking and he’ll have your job… You had no electricity. You had no water. Your streets were impassable. Your police force was powerless. You were powerless. It was anarchy. And our people helped you restore service with our technology. We gave you; tools, parts, supplies, equipment, manpower… And believe me, I can just as easily take it back… leave you where you started; with no food, no power and no water. There are plenty of other places that would be more than happy to receive that aid.” Holding her temper, she turned and walked away from the screen, taking a deep breath before turning back. “And just before we pull our power equipment, I will personally broadcast the reasons for our action. How long do you think you’d still be Mayor? A chimp would win the popularity contest over you. If it means maintaining services, I could name anyone I want to run the city.”
The Mayor’s face was blanched, perspiring, but still defiant. “So, this is what it comes down to… our alien overlords telling us how to run our lives… nothing more than slaves…”
“Oh, for the love of God,” waved Lisa, “stop being so melodramatic. You sound like a petulant little girl. Nobody, and I mean nobody, want’s your shitty job. What I want, is for you to actually do your shitty job. And give the police the equipment and leeway to do their jobs. The equipment that was given to you, for free, by the way. To protect lives. In case your memory fails, that carbine I shot you with is non-lethal… to save lives.”
The Mayor waved his arms, “Fine. Fine! FINE! They can have their equipment. They can take it to bed and sleep with it for all I care…”
“Effective immediately,” she added. “And, Commander Bobby Fortuno and Lieutenant Nick Omanski will be direct liaisons between the Mayor’s office, the Chief of Police and the Fleet Supply Liaison Officers…”
“I can’t… I, I don’t have that power… you can’t be serious…” he frowned, distressed.
Lisa smirked without mirth, her eyes narrowing, “I have complete confidence in you, Mr. Mayor, that you can and will find a way to make that happen. With the pay and benefits commensurate with those positions, of course.”
He rubbed his forehead in anger, “I hate you,” he hissed. “I, I fucking loath you…”
Lisa smiled genuinely, “And yet, you barely know me,” she said cheerily. She leaned in, her face changing to stone, “Know this, Mr. Mayor, if you knew me, truly knew me, you would also fear me. Do as I ask. So I don’t have to pay you a personal visit. Because you really don’t want to see me angry.” She raised her finger ominously at him, “Get it done. Before the end of the day.” Denying him a chance to respond, she tapped her MOBIUS ending his connection, the video square winking out. She turned to Bobby who was still connected. “So…”
Fortuno was a little wide-eyed, “So, I think you scare me too, lady…”
Lisa cracked a crooked smile, “Stay on my good side…” She broke into laughter, “I can’t even say that with a straight face…”
“Fooled me,” countered Bobby, “and I’m pretty sure he be
lieved every word.”
“Let’s just say, he inspires me,” she chuckled. “Now, I need to get some sleeeep…” she begged.
“Lisa Stone to the bridge,” announced the comm. “Lisa Stone, report to the bridge.”
“Aaahhhh, crap.”
WINGS of STEELE – RESURRECTION
CHAPTER ONE
NIHLQUIST SYSTEM : BITE OF THE BLACK WIDOW
“Fifteen minutes until we hit the exit into Nihlquist, Michel.”
The crew of the Black Widow was rather casual. Not unprofessional, just at ease; that kind of comfortable that arises from years of friendship, military service and teamwork. Titles were unnecessary, everyone knew their job. Say it and it gets done; no formalities, no extraneous jaw jacking.
Michel Thorne glanced up from his data screen, checking the position of the cargo hauler, Palladium, running parallel with them on their port side, the satiny lining of the transition tunnel sliding past beyond her. “Toss out a probe, Tom, less see if there’s anyone lurking around.”
“Got it, probe going out…”
Antwerp Shipworks’ first publicly released Marauder Class hull design, the Black Widow, sliced through space like the dangerous little monster she was. A thing of nightmares - if you were a Raider or Pirate unfortunate enough to come up against her.
Michel Thorne was a wide-shouldered, sandy-haired Belgian with blue-gray eyes, a broad, ready smile, a wicked sense of humor, and son of the ship’s designer, he was the only one who knew the Widow well enough to Captain her. After repossessing the ship from an unscrupulous business partner who had it hidden, it was imperative to initiate cash flow back into Antwerp Shipworks to cover the substantial material and financial investment it took to produce the first ship. In an effort to bankrupt the promising shipyard, the partner had decided to hide the company’s only asset, planning a hostile takeover by buying up the debt at a reduced rate when the financiers moved to foreclose, effectively stealing the business.
As it turned out, it was not the first time the partner had executed this maneuver; some of the prototype ships of other companies having never been recovered, many of the businesses ceasing to exist. But Michel Thorne was the wild card he never counted on. Having spent years as an ethical hacker for private and governmental agencies, both military and secret, it was simply a matter of time before Michel tracked the Black Widow down. In the process, discovering a virtual treasure trove of stolen ships; some fully operational, some parted-out for their most valuable design features.
In a daring, well-planned raid, Michel Thorne and a skeleton crew of former military turned mercenaries stole the Black Widow back, returning her to the rightful ownership of Antwerp Shipworks. Using the Widow’s special suite of data hacking tools, many of the operational ships stashed in the illicit collection were basically rendered stupid, their complex software hobbled to prevent their movement. Within hours, the UFW Ship Registry Service received an anonymous tip of the stolen ships and their location; a fast UFW Cutter complete with boarding team dispatched to investigate almost immediately.
That was a few months ago, and though Michel occasionally wondered how that whole thing ultimately played out, he didn’t dwell on it. News would get around – it always does. The fact that news didn’t come his way immediately, meant he was careful enough not to leave any forensic clues behind to implicate Antwerp Shipworks in any involvement in the incident. He would hear about it eventually… the grapevine reached far across the cosmos.
“Bridge, this is engineering… Boss?”
The German accent told Michel Thorne immediately who it was. He keyed the mic on his comm, “What’s up Mutti?”
“Boss, can you come down here?”
We’re getting ready to dump out into Nihlquist, Mutti…”
“I know, Boss. But…”
Michel could hear the apprehension in his engineer’s voice, “What’s going on, Mutti?”
“You should really see this for yourself, Boss.”
“What’s the problem, Mutti? Did we break something?”
“Equipment’s fine, Boss. But I think you should really come down here…”
The engineer’s voice was hushed and that got Michel’s curiosity on edge. “Fine,” he replied with a sigh of displeasure.
“What’s going on?” asked Tom, from the First Mate’s seat, glancing up from his screens.
Michel rose, stretched and shrugged all at once, “No idea, he doesn’t want to say.”
“Odd.”
“Yeah, I’d better go check, I guess.” He motioned toward the big screen, “Anything from the probe yet?”
“Not yet, couple more minutes.”
Michel nodded, “Alright. Gimme an update when you get something.” He thumbed over his shoulder, “I guess I’d better go see what’s going on down there.”
■ ■ ■
Josef - Mutti, to his battle buddies, was a soft-spoken, burly German, shaved bald with a full, dirty-blond beard. An experienced combat rescue medic, he garnered his moniker - the German equivalent to Mum or Mom, because of his almost motherly care for wounded men in the field. Michel found the dichotomy between Josef’s nearly famous rescue exploits; the expert care he gave, and his appearance - something akin to a tree trunk with a beard, more than just odd. It was almost bizarre. His other skills notwithstanding, his real talent was mechanics - he was a crack engineer who could fix nearly anything.
Michel found him waiting outside the iris-shaped bulkhead door to engineering and was stalled by Josef’s outstretched hand.
“Ok, I’m here, Mutti. What’s going on?”
“Before I let you in, know that I’ve checked him over. His vitals are good. It’s the behavior that I can’t figure out. I’ve never seen anything like it…”
Michel rolled his hand in the air like he was winding a fishing reel, “Let’s speed this up, who are we talking about, here?”
“Your friend, Jack.”
“Jack? Why…” said Michel slowly, “what’s he doing?”
“Nothing. He’s just standing there. Like he’s in a trance…” Josef reached back and waved at the door’s control panel, the iris opening. “He’s been like that for over an hour…”
Michel stepped Past the German and over the shin-high threshold of the door into engineering; finding Jack, standing in the only open space, feet shoulder length apart, hands clasped together, pulled to his chest, staring ahead. Unmoving. Michel walked around him, examining him closely. His eyes flicked around occasionally. “What’s he doing?” he whispered to Josef who sidled up next to him.
“I don’t know,” whispered Josef. “He came in initially and looked at everything… and I mean everything. He crawled the inspection tunnels, the power conduits, the catwalks… Never said a word.”
Michel raised an eyebrow, “Did you ask him?”
Josef shrugged, “He wasn’t bothering anybody, and he really didn’t touch anything.”
Michel Thorn laid his hand on Jack’s shoulder, “Jack, watcha’ doing buddy...?” He turned to Josef, “Think he can hear me, Mutti?”
The big German shook his hand, “I don’t see any indication of that. His eyes are moving but the rest of him is as rigid as a board. But all his vitals seem normal.”
“Think he had a stroke or something?”
Josef chewed the inside of his bottom lip in contemplation, “I’d be more inclined to say something like Locked-In Syndrome. But without a complete exam and scans it’s impossible to tell…” He rubbed his forehead, “But then there’s the whole standing without falling thing - that just doesn’t make any sense to me at all. I have no idea how that happens…” He gave a little push on Jack’s shoulder, who remained completely unmoved. “See, that’s just not possible. The body’s natural balancing mechanism is movement. That requires conscious effort; the number of muscles required to maintain…”
“No, I get it,” waved Michel. Having stood for extended periods in military parade dress, Thorne was well aware of
the physical effort required to stand without moving. He gave Jack a little push on the shoulder with no effect.
“It’s like he’s made of steel…” commented Josef. “Welded to the…” he realized Thorne was staring at him, a look of incredulity on his face. Josef nodded and pointed, “Steele - steel; yeah I heard it after I said it…”
“Let’s see if we can get him back to his quarters,” suggested Thorne.
“You got it.” Josef attempted to scoop Jack up like a child, to no effect, surprise registering on his face. “What the hell… how much does he weigh?”
Thorne shrugged, “I don’t know. Two-hundred pounds maybe…”
“Not possible,” replied the big German. “I can do that all day long, he didn’t even budge… it’s like trying to pick up a tree…” A look of sudden realization washed over his face… “You know he has an artificial eye, right?” he pointed, indicating the green glow in the center of Jack’s left eye.
“Yes, he has a CABL implant and an artificial eye. From an injury… Why?”
“Because I’ve never seen a replacement eye glow like that… Unless…”
Thorne frowned, “Unless what?”
Josef backed away, dragging Michel with him by the wrist, whispering suspiciously, “Are you sure we’re not dealing with a Synth?”
A chill raced up Michel Thorne’s back, “Shit, I hadn’t even considered that…”
“They can be pretty convincing,” whispered the German, “but they always seem to have a tell of some kind. They’re never perfect…” He waved at the human statue, “I’d say, here’s your tell…”
“How can we be sure? I mean, really sure?” He rubbed the back of his neck, “Because if we’re wrong,” he shook his head, “I don’t even want to think about how bad that would be…”
“A medical scan. But I don’t have the equipment for that. I’d start with a blood test…”
“Can you do that? Now?”
The German nodded, “Sure, I’ve got a kit for tha…”
The alarm klaxon sounded a split second before the entire ship was submersed in red flashing light. “All hands, man your battle stations! All hands, man your battle stations! This is not a drill! Captain to the bridge...!”
Resurrection Page 2