Royce shook his head, and his eyes seemed haunted as he thought back. “It was rough, man. Those trigger-happy Thorne Nazis just blasted their way in there, gunning down the local militia even after they surrendered. They took control and forced the locals back into the mine to resume operations. Even without enough rad suits to go around. It was basically a death sentence either way—eat a bullet or suffer and eventually die of radiation poisoning.” He blew out a long breath, and pain was visible on his face. Keeva squeezed his arm encouragingly.
“Anyway, that was all I could take. There was no way I would continue murdering innocents to pad the balance sheets of these corporations. I had a wife and a young ‘un back home,” he smiled at Keeva and patted her hand. “I went AWOL after that. We traveled around Eastern Europe for a time, getting work where I could. Eventually, we ended up in America and, once the Cataclysm hit, holed up inside this rock.” He looked at Reznik and Rin and shrugged. “Some great commander I am, huh? I guess that’s why I tend to get bogged down in the small logistics, being a supply lieutenant and all, and not focusing on the bigger picture.”
“These people needed your leadership, Father,” Keeva said. “They still need it. You’ve done just fine by my reckoning and most of theirs, I’d wager.”
“Well, thanks darlin’.” Royce sat up in his chair and stretched his back. “I didn’t mean to waste your time telling old war stories.”
“Not at all,” Reznik said. “I did want to throw one more idea at you, since I already have a little commitment scheduled that’s going to take me to Skin City. Not sure if the rebels could benefit, or might even want to get in on the action, but I’ll throw it out there just in case.” When he saw that Royce was interested, he laid out his rough plan.
***
The next morning, Reznik and Rin prepared to catch a ride to Skin City with a pair of Royce’s fighters. After their discussion, they had been invited to stay for dinner and were given a room to bunk down for the night. The rebel’s chief mechanic, Ted, had towed back Reznik’s dead truck. Ted didn’t have the right parts to fix the drive system, so Reznik donated it to the rebels.
Royce and Keeva came out to see them off. “I’ve got Mack and his son making a parts run down to Skin City. Good luck with your venture down there. Keeva here will be your contact so we can coordinate.” The young woman looked pleased at being given the responsibility. “Hey, Mack, you about ready?” Royce hollered over at a stocky black man who was loading gear into what resembled a slab-sided bread truck with a lift kit and oversize tires on it.
Mack gave Royce a thumbs-up. “Just about ready to roll, boss. We’re taking the hoverbike with too, right?”
“Aye,” Royce replied.
Reznik helped Mack load the hoverbike in the cavernous rear of the truck. Mack must have had some strength augmentations, for he easily handled his share of the bike’s weight. Rin tossed their packs in the back as well. Reznik shook hands with Mack and his son, Junior, who was a younger version of his father, except for the wraparound shades he wore even in the dim cavern. A faint glow emanated from around the shades where Reznik imagined he had a HUD active. The group said their goodbyes to Royce and Keeva and climbed in the truck. The vehicle rumbled to life, and they were on their way.
Chapter 4
“What the hell is the meaning of this?” a voice screeched in alarm. “You have no right to just barge in here!”
Marcus looked up from the holoscreen at his desk as he recognized the voice of his boss, Dr. Barbosa. He glanced around but didn’t see what the cause of the commotion was. He had been reviewing the progress report on Alistair Thorne’s most recent nanobot injection, and so far the data was encouraging. He was about to turn back to his project when a loud crash was followed by an unmanly shriek of pain.
“Stop resisting,” a female voice ordered. Bethany. Marcus instantly recognized the voice. I wonder what this is all about? He poked his head out into the hallway, noticing that several of his coworkers were gawking as well. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, the raised voices carried clearly through the open door of the Section 7 director’s office down the hall.
“CorpSec has some questions they’d like to ask you regarding that sample of mutant DNA that turned up in the hands of a known black market vendor in the Sprawl.” Bethany’s voice was cold. She was one of the few people at Thorne Industries that dared speak to a Section Chief with such a lack of courtesy.
“But, but… I have no idea what you are speaking of!” Barbosa sputtered. “All the samples are accounted for—I maintain that log myself.”
“Ah, is that so? That’s awfully convenient—it puts you in the perfect position to try to cover your tracks then, doesn’t it?”
“No, that’s not what I mean! I meant to say—”
“Save it for CorpSec,” Bethany snapped. “Take the doctor away.”
Two burly skins dragged the diminutive doctor out of his office, the man’s toes barely scraping the floor as they hauled him away with fists clamped around his upper arms. The doctor seemed unable to string a coherent sentence together as he blubbered while being quickly hustled down the hall. Marcus’s coworkers disappeared back inside their offices at the appearance of the skins, but Marcus remained in the doorway. He couldn’t help the smile that crept across his face. Couldn’t have happened to a bigger prick.
Bethany walked out of Barbosa’s office and immediately spotted him leaning in his doorway.
“What’s going on?” he asked as she came toward him.
“The director is wanted for questioning. It’s not looking good for his future tenure here, I must say,” she whispered conspiratorially.
“Really?” Marcus watched her with raised eyebrows. “Why are you doing CorpSec summonses? Don’t you have people to do that for you?”
“Of course. I just enjoy watching pathetic little men like Barbosa nearly shit their pants when we march in and roll them up, that’s all.” Bethany smirked. “By the way, you have a 14:00 appointment with Mr. Thorne at the training facility for the next round of testing for his serum. Don’t be late.” She leaned in close, and Marcus caught a whiff of her intoxicating perfume. “Try to make a good impression—you never know if you could be getting vetted for a promotion.” She winked and sauntered off.
Marcus was left to scratch his head at the new developments.
***
Marcus waited nervously, sweating freely in the afternoon heat in his clean, freshly pressed uniform as he waited for Alistair Thorne and his entourage. Thorne’s group observed the live-fire training of a squadron of CorpSec skins. As Marcus stood at the back of the viewing deck, he tried not to fidget impatiently under the stony gaze of the nearby bodyguards in Thorne’s protection detail.
Down on the field, the twelve-man squadron moved efficiently through the confidence course, blasting targets that popped out and moving with synchronized precision like components in a well-oiled machine.
“Impressive, Commander. Keep up the good work,” Thorne said in his eloquent British accent. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, gentlemen.” Marcus snapped his attention back to the entourage. The officers and aides surrounding Thorne quickly dispersed. Thorne strode toward Marcus, who stood up a little straighter. The aristocratic CEO’s silver hair shone in the sunlight, and he moved with an easy grace.
“Greetings, Marcus.” Thorne surprised him by extending a hand. He smiled warmly, but his eerie, pale eyes remained cold.
“Afternoon, sir.” Marcus shook his hand.
“I’m anxious for another demonstration of the serum. Is everything ready?”
“Yes, sir. Where would you like to do the demonstration?”
“Right here is fine. The commander has graciously allowed me to utilize his troops down there.”
Marcus glanced down and saw that the squad stood at attention below, having completed their maneuvers, and were now awaiting orders. The officers and aides had departed, leaving Marcus alone with Thorne and his bodyguar
ds.
“Of course, sir.” Marcus hurriedly opened his satchel and withdrew the small vial containing the nanites and a large syringe. “Would you like to have a seat?” He looked around and was about to pull up a chair, but Thorne waved him away.
“That won’t be necessary—I’ll be fine.” Thorne rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm. “Let me have it, my good man.”
Marcus filled the syringe with Thorne’s customized strain of nanites. He put the needle to Thorne’s arm, and the point slid into his vein. Marcus depressed the plunger, and the nanobots flowed into Thorne’s bloodstream.
“Ahhh… yes, there those little buggers are,” Thorne murmured as he closed his eyes for a moment. He reopened them a moment later and focused on the squad below. With a dramatic flourish, he aimed his palm at the men below and squinted in concentration.
Marcus’s breath caught in his throat as several of the men in the squad began moving around as if in a drunken state. The four men at the end of the line stepped forward as if in a daze before straightening up and looking up at Marcus and Thorne. They saluted crisply, marched forward, performed a right face, marched forward again, then did another right face until they were facing the other members of their squad.
“Defend yourselves and subdue them,” Thorne ordered.
Marcus watched intently, unable to pull his eyes away. The four grunts under Thorne’s control suddenly drew their laser pistols and fired at their companions. Blat blat blat blat. The rest of the squad tried to duck out of the way and subdue the rogue grunts. One man took a blast to the head and fell down. The other seven soldiers wrestled with the four rogues, trying to disarm and subdue them.
Blat. Another soldier grunted in pain and fell back with a wound to the chest. Bodies wrestled around in the dirt for another couple minutes before it was all over. The wounded soldiers picked themselves back up, having sustained no lasting damage due to their dermal plating.
Sweat trickled down Thorne’s brow from concentration. He reopened his eyes and let out a deep breath. “That was a rush,” he breathed. He nodded to Marcus in approval before turning back to the soldiers. “Stand down. Return to your formation.”
The soldiers scrambled back to their feet and snapped back to attention. The four that had gone rogue were slower to respond and looked confused but fell in beside their companions.
“You,” Thorne pointed at a corporal that had been under his control, “describe what happened just now.”
The young man looked terrified at being addressed directly by the CEO. “Sir, I um… my HUD registered alerts of hostile nanobots for a second or so, and then it was like I got my bell rung. I blacked out, and when I awoke, I was pinned to the ground by my comrades.”
“Interesting. What about you?” Thorne asked the next man. When the other men all reported the same thing as the first, Thorne dismissed them.
“I’m impressed, Marcus.” Thorne smiled again. “That was amazing… I think the limitation is my HUD software. Try as I might, I couldn’t control more than four, and I had a hell of a time processing all their actions at once. What’s the limit?”
“Theoretically, the limit is dictated only by the number of nanobots you release, and the ratio against the defending nanites. From the concentration in the serum that I gave you, you should have been able to influence eight or ten. That’s my estimate.”
“So, software is the limitation then. I’ll send my observations and requirements to implement a software update. Excellent work, my friend.” Thorne clapped Marcus on the back and strode away, his protection detail instantly falling into place around him.
What the hell did I just witness? I think the saying “I’ve created a monster” is a fitting way to describe this. Marcus zipped up his satchel and decided he needed a cold drink.
Chapter 5
James Mason sipped his whiskey and observed the patrons of the bar. Big Sky was a quiet little town on the northern plains of the wasteland, far away from anything. The room seemed to be filled with locals: mostly farmers and traders with a couple travelers dusty from the road in the mix. Not much going on in this town, he decided. Perfect place for these rebels to be holed up—nobody would expect them here.
“There you are,” the middle-aged bartender exclaimed, drawing Mason’s attention. “Wasn’t sure when you’d get back from taking care of your business.” An attractive young woman with bright blue hair bustled in from the back room and stuffed her satchel under the counter. “Did your trip go all right?” The bartender took a drink of his beer and watched the woman.
Now here’s something different. The woman didn’t look like she belonged in a small, dusty town like Big Sky. She was like a splash of color in an ancient black-and-white vid. He dialed up his aural augs so he could listen to their conversation.
“Yeah, went just fine,” the woman replied with a slight accent. “Has everything been quiet around here?” She swept her hair back over her ear and surveyed the room. Her eyes quickly locked on Mason, obviously registering him as out of place, and her face hardened slightly, thinking he looked like trouble most likely. Mason was used to getting such looks.
The bartender shrugged. “A few out-of-towners around today, but other than that, not much going on. Shelby McGavin is back in town for a few days. He said he found another Shuang and Wesson 10mm like you were in the market for.”
“Oh, great! I’ll have to pay him a visit.” She smiled and poured herself a glass of water before taking a long swig. “Go ahead and take off, Pete. I’ve got this.”
“Will do,” Pete replied. He finished the rest of his beer and took off the greasy apron covering his ample belly. “Have a good one, Keeva,” he said in parting and left through the back room.
Mason knocked back the rest of the whiskey and wondered what the best approach was. Straight up, he decided. This girl looks like she doesn’t tolerate much bullshit. He caught Keeva’s eye when she looked up and motioned for her.
Keeva came around the counter, and Mason’s suspicions were reinforced. She had a pistol on her hip, which looked like one of the S&Ws she and Pete had been talking about. She has good taste in handguns. Keeva was lean and moved gracefully, and Mason wondered if she was augmented. She definitely looked like she could be a rebel contact.
“Need a refill?” She eyed him warily as she hovered near his table.
“Whiskey,” he replied.
“You’ve got it. Haven’t seen you around before. Just passing through?” Keeva mopped up a spill on the next table, but Mason noticed she didn’t let him out of her gaze.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Be right back.”
When Keeva returned with the refilled glass, Mason dropped a few extra chips on the table, which covered the drink and a substantial tip. “Thanks. I’m looking for a little information as well,” he said in an undertone.
Keeva eyed the chips and raised an eyebrow. “Is that right? Information can be hard to come by in these parts.”
“Well, according to a scrub by the name of Jovan, you’re the woman to talk to.”
Keeva’s eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid I don’t know any Jovan,” she said tersely.
“Is that so?” Mason tilted back his gunslinger hat and gave her a hard look with his blank chrome eyes. He knew the effect was unnerving, but the girl impressed him by keeping her cool. “He said a pretty blue-haired girl that worked at the bar in Big Sky would be the person to talk to if I was looking for a certain group of individuals that liked to keep a low profile around these parts.”
He saw a flicker of recognition in the woman’s eyes. She tilted her head and looked him over again. “I don’t know you, and you look like trouble…”
“It’s Mason,” he said quickly. “And you’re Keeva, right?” She nodded slightly. “See, now we know each other.” He smiled. “And yes, I won’t lie, trouble does seem to find me. But you look like you can handle trouble.” He glanced pointedly at the big gun on her hip.
�
��I can take care of myself,” she allowed. “So, Mason, what happened to this Jovan you are referring to?”
“He got taught a lesson in manners. First of all, he shouldn’t have been harassing travelers that are minding their own business. Second, it isn’t polite to stick a gun in someone’s face.” That wasn’t exactly the truth, but Keeva didn’t need to know that. The kid had only stuck the rifle in his face when Mason had stopped and questioned him. He was lucky to only lose a couple of front teeth for his trouble.
Keeva seemed to relax a bit. “Jovan’s just a dumb kid. You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
“He should be fine. So, what do you say?” He slid the chips over to Keeva and took a long swallow of whiskey.
“Come back in the morning,” she said, and the chips disappeared into a pocket in the blink of an eye. Either she was very well practiced or she did have some augs after all. “It’s been a long day. I can introduce you to someone that can help you tomorrow.”
“Very well,” Mason replied and tipped his hat. He decided that, this close to his objective, another day wouldn’t matter. He didn’t want to push the girl and set off any warning bells in her head.
Extensis Vitae: City of Sarx Page 3