Subversive Elements (Unreal Universe Book 2)

by Lee Bond

  “How long would that take? To learn, not to hire someone.” If there were any similarity between a prote-maker and a Sheet-builder, it’d be a quick in and out info-seminar spread out over the course of an afternoon and sandwiched between five or six snack breaks. How difficult could it be to push a couple buttons and wait?

  “Erm.” Herrig turned to his prote, found an appropriate site on the LINK, and read the answer. “Up to … five years. And that’s the accelerated classes for genuine geniuses. Much better to hire someone … “

  Garth snorted and threw his hands in the air. “Not on your life.” The sort of proteus percolating around in his brain wasn’t something anyone outside a very small circle of friends should know about, and even then it’d take blood oaths and pinky-swears for him to believe the thing would be kept secret.

  Not only was it going to be a prote unlike any other for a number of reasons, its primary purpose would be that of handling –and masking- the phenomenal volume of data his soon-to-be resurrected AI buddy would generate every time he entered the world’s netLINKs. No doubt Huey would be able to cross from the main into the ‘LINKS on his own, but that was just too damned risky; Hospitalis was dangerous. Even with Ashok Guillfoyle’s endless cunning streak, it was better to assume that the flow would be noticed sooner or later.

  And asking a Latelian designer to build what he had in mind and expecting this hypothetical person to keep their mouth shut –huge paycheck notwithstanding- was unreasonable. In the extreme.

  He’d read the history books. He knew about the Mycalm Experiments, and the Enervation Process, and how scientists had blabbed that shit all over the ‘LINKS the moment they’d proved the science worked. It’d be the same with his super-prote. Anyone working on the project would leap at the chance and then they’d turn him in.

  Especially after Guillfoyle.

  “I.” Herrig stopped talking. There was no reasoning with Garth, not when he’d already made his mind up. And of course, there was the gleam. The gleam prevented all rational thought from entering Garth’s brain and was also impervious to logic of any kind. The gleam was unbeatable, even if it meant it’d cost Garth his head one day. Deflated, Herrig slumped.

  “Awesome possum.” Garth clapped Herrig on the back. “I’m gonna go and have me a lookee-loo at my new building. Let me know if anything weird happens.”

  “’Weird’?” Herrig asked weakly. What was weirder than Garth?

  “Yeah, you know, the usual. Weird.” He wiggled a hand in the air. “Weird. Talking dogs or flying cats weird.” He left Herrig standing there.

  Garth waved goodbye to his employees before hurrying out of the offices. He owned a building stuffed to the rafters with exactly the kind of equipment he needed to do … well … whatever he wanted, really. There might even be a way to diminish his ever-growing popularity tucked away somewhere within the vast depths of Ashok’s old domain.

  It was worth looking into.

  Latelian Politics in Action

  A surge of satisfaction washed through Chairwoman Doans when her prote chimed an announcement concerning the Guillfoyle Building: it had a new owner, and it was the man she’d been hoping to entice. For a ‘thirty thousand year old’ super soldier, Garth Nickels was thoroughly predictable.

  Alyssa was ecstatic her instinct for duplicity was as strong as ever. Ashok’s multi-level betrayal had put her through a momentary downswing, but that was over. The Guillfoyle Building was a veritable gold mine of equipment and resources that a man like Garth -a man definitely following an agenda- couldn’t afford to ignore.

  Ostensibly, buying the building and all its equipment was a good move for someone looking to Conglomerate. The rights and privileges associated with the building and the hardware within drastically reduced the amount of paperwork and helped him look sincere to the committees responsible for approving his requests. His above-board donations to defray a portion of the costs further served to suggest –at least to Alyssa- that he was planning something. After Ashok, anyone looking to Conglomerate, anyone offering more than they got in return … well, they had to be lying.

  And the treasure trove of high-tech machinery in the Guillfoyle Building highlighted half a dozen different areas of research that Garth Nickels might turn his hand to, most of which could easily yield Latelyspace-detrimental discoveries.

  Automatically enabling the owner to engage in everything from viral research to the discovery of new forms of duronium alloy, the Guillfoyle Building’s grandfather clauses put Garth in a position where the research industry would very closely watch him. After Ashok’s betrayal, the watchdogs would be on high alert for any illegal activities, especially in light of the fact that the man who now owned the rights to turn his hand to anything that struck his whimsy was an Offworlder. Immigrant or not, adopted Latelian or not, sudden philanthropic leanings notwithstanding, Garth had made his first truly definable misstep. He loathed being scrutinized and had ensured that he’d be watched day in and day out for the rest of his life in Latelyspace.

  Alyssa finally had something to work with.

  Fully expecting him to doubt the motives behind the gesture and not caring –save that it might make him tread cautiously-, Alyssa dashed off quick congratulations to Garth. Let him obsess over what the friendly letter implied.

  Satisfied with the direction her intrigues were taking, Alyssa wrote another message, this one to the watchdog groups who had so fantastically failed to catch The Traitor. Highlighting the man’s previous exposure to research and development, Alyssa encouraged the various factions to familiarize themselves with the underpinning technologies that’d gone into the creation of the gravnetic shield generators. Even though Trinity Itself had directed her not to, Alyssa needed these groups to be intimately aware of the profound nature of that invention; if Garth developed something like that inside Latelyspace, they needed to be in control of it before it spread to every corner of their system.

  There was little else she could do to make the man’s life uncomfortable without being obvious about her dislike. If she pushed further, all it’d do was draw attention to UltraMegaDynamaTron, and that was something she couldn’t have; privacy laws concerning businesses devoted to scientific, medical and technological advances were sacrosanct. The public absolutely did not need to know the sorts of experimentation that was sometimes necessary to further a specific idea.

  Look at what had happened with Guillfoyle. His endeavors had been … less than palatable at best.

  She thanked her lucky stars that the fool’s info-dump had happened now instead of earlier or later in the year. Her agencies had narrowly managed to get all that data off the ‘LINKS and out of private storage facilities before too many people had gotten anything more than a cursory glance. They’d just that morning finished dealing with those citizens –great and small- who’d managed to save some of that dreaded data, and thus the problem was contained. Any day now, Missing Persons pictures would show up in the usual spots, but in time, they’d be taken down. Life wasn’t your own when you lived in Latelyspace and if you broke a law, you vanished. Everyone accepted that.

  As satisfied as she was going to be, Alyssa lit a cigarette only to stub it out seconds later; her proteus announced that OverCommander Vasily was in the outer offices, awaiting her pleasure. She signaled that she was prepared to meet with him, then tried to make herself more presentable, sticking the cigarette into a drawer seconds before the door swung open.

  OverCommander Vasily, leader of the amassed God soldier Army and the Chairwoman’s lover, swept magisterially into the room, exuding the frosty exterior of a battle-hardened man of power and might. The moment the double doors closed, he relaxed, took off his heavier-than-dammit greatcoat, made a noise of pleasure and moved quickly over to Alyssa. They clasped hands briefly but forced themselves apart; neither one could bear such a simple display of affection without longing to hold one another closely. And the formal offices of the Chair were the last place two people who ‘weren
’t’ sleeping together was the last place they should be discovered.

  Vasily raised an eyebrow, nose wrinkling, eyes twinkling. “Been talking to Alix, have we?”

  Alyssa returned Vasily’s observation with calm cool. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sa.”

  “The only time you break your promise is when you talk to your sister.” Vasily pointed out gently. “Either you’ve been talking to Alix or you’re being hauled up on the chopping block by the new OverSec, and that’s highly unlikely. So what is it?”

  Alyssa didn’t want to talk about it, but the rage inside her boiled over. “Ugh.” She spat angrily. “Alix is running Nickels publicity campaign. That flabby little business partner of Nickels’ looked her up in the ‘LINKs of all things. Naturally, she said yes. She coerced me into delaying my plans until he’s savvier on the nature of his role as a celebrity.”

  Against his better judgment, Vasily chuckled at the thought of Garth and Alix working together. It was the unlikeliest of pairings and therefore doubly vexing to his ladylove. He winced when Alyssa belted him in the chest. “Ouch.”

  “This isn’t funny, Vasily.” Alyssa lit another cigarette, ignoring her lover’s feigned indifference. “I am the bloody Chairwoman,” she said around a mouthful of smoke, “I don’t get pushed around by anyone, even if they are my relatives. Especially relatives.” She exhaled a noisy plume of smoke and sighed.

  “What does she want, exactly?”

  “The usual. Public amnesty from media scrutiny until she’s had time to cement the perception of the cities, that sort of thing. Seems to think if he burns out now, he’ll pull down half the system with him or something.” Alyssa snorted as the rest of her conversation with dear Alixia played itself out in her mind. “She threw me an interesting possibility I’ve since discarded. Alix suggested I use Garth to further my own agenda.”

  Vasily thought the suggestion a good one, but knew better than to say so; the Chairwoman’s decisions on policy matters were hers and her alone. She reacted very poorly if she even thought someone was second-guessing the wisdom of her actions. And when it came to her –their- biggest plans?

  Alyssa wanted to be the only person ultimately responsible for what happened to Latelyspace in the next few years, and that was the end of it. She would brook no interference, even if it were likely to be helpful. He knew about the plans because he played an integral part in them, though Vasily suspected if Alyssa could’ve figured out a way to accomplish her goals without him being the wiser, the Chairwoman would’ve leaped at the chance.

  From her aggressively pro-Latelian point of view, relying on an Offworlder -in spite of that Offworlder’s possible willingness to help and his undeniable abilities- would be utterly, brutally distasteful. Alyssa recognized the steps necessary to ensure Latelyspace’s survival were cruel and would almost certainly cost her her life, and that was acceptable. Latelyspace would survive at all costs. She would be their savior. “And the leverage?”

  Alyssa threw her cigarette on the floor and stamped it out with her heel. “’Dear sister’ suggested she would inform the Biggies that I had plans to manipulate Sa Nickels into wasting the bulk of his fortune on us.” She frowned. “Actually, what she said was she’d go the press and say I intended to steal his money and kill the man.”

  “Ahhh.” Vasily said knowingly, nodding. “And since Alix cannot be aware that Trinity has made a … request … should the man find himself in dire straits, you are forced to find another avenue to engineer his fall from grace without anyone being the wiser.”

  “Precisely.” Alyssa slumped down into her chair and grabbed hold of Vasily’s hands. “As long as I was able to cause Garth’s downfall in such a way that he became Public Enemy Number One without anyone in the media realizing just what’d happened, everything was fine. We all remember what happened to Sa Inglesio Hargesio … famous one day, dead in the streets the next with nobody knowing what had happened. Even Trinity would’ve been hard pressed to deny the … the unfortunate-ness of it all.” She glared at Vasily, waiting for him to say something about her choice of words. When he said nothing –merely grinning handsomely- she continued griping. “But with Alix keeping an eye out for my more subtle tricks, there is no way I can see to be rid of the man without making Trinity unpleasant. What is this man to Trinity? I need to know!”

  Vasily -who’d come to speak with the Chairwoman about an upcoming military action - smiled brightly even though he, too, wished fervently to understand Nickels’ worth to the AI. The machine mind, all It’s representatives, indeed Vasily’s own connections inside Trinityspace –none was forthcoming with any information. They talked about ‘The Specter’ like a living legend, to be sure, and offered condolences on the loss of his solar system, but they offered nothing of value. “I may have a solution for you, si. Originally, I came here to inform you of steps I was taking to deal with a particularly … dangerous … situation, but now …”

  Alyssa cocked her head. Vasily being devious was a rare –and delicious- sight. “Explain.”

  Vasily seated himself, then flashed the data. He’d considered handling the al-Taryin matter internally –and with extreme violence- because the cyborg’s presence fell under the jurisdiction of the military, but if the situation could be turned to Alyssa’s benefit…

  Chairwoman Doans read the transcript of the Trinity assassin’s discussion with the space station and the subsequent level of threat displayed. “You authorized permission for this man to come here?” She didn’t get angry, not yet; Vasily was a brilliant man, and he had his reasons.

  “A Hand of Glory missile,” Vasily began, “is destructive, Chairwoman. It could’ve easily demolished the station and the troopship Gargan quite easily. Difficult to do but Chadsik is … talented. Letting him into the system seemed the wisest course of action. Now that he is in-bound, we are tracking him quite effectively and can kill him without too much destruction of any assets between here and there.”

  Doans sighed miserably; she was going to end the Offworld portion of The Game. She’d had enough. There had to be easier ways to introduce Trinityfolk to her people. Oh, if only it weren’t so very necessary for her people to become unafraid of the rest of Humanity… “I defer to your tactical knowledge, sa.”

  “Thank you, Chairwoman.” Vasily replied without humor.

  Doans reexamined the files. “You believe he’s here to dispose of our problem?”

  Vasily nodded. “I contacted some of my … associates … in Trinity for verification. It took some doing: the man who hired Chadsik went to extreme lengths to disguise his identity. It was only through sheer happenstance that the operative came to the info he did.”

  “Who is it?” ‘Some doing’ meant ‘liberal spreading of money’, something they couldn’t ordinarily afford.

  “Jordan Bishop.” Vasily understood Alyssa’s reaction, and politely ignored her venomous diatribe; Jordan Bishop was one of the very few Offworlders with permission to come and go as they pleased in Latelyspace, an honor contingent upon good behavior and continued trade agreements. Employing an assassin to kill someone in their system was -ordinarily- a deal breaker as it were, earning the man a price on his own head and quite possibly an all-out war. But things were different when it came to Garth Nickels. Vasily flashed Alyssa further information, saying, “The gravnetic shield generators our newest citizen developed have supplanted BishopCo’s own defense contracts with Trinity’s systems and planets.”

  “Thus Garth’s abstract wealth is explained.” Alyssa read over the specs for the generators again, that sense of awe she’d felt the first time undiminished. The brute she’d met, the one radiating hostility and … and violence from every pore had created this? It staggered the imagination.

  “It does.” Vasily held no love for Jordan, most of all because of his ‘contracts’ for Latelian citizens; the methods he used to get those displaced citizens to work their ‘magic’ with programming languages was, at best, reprehensible. “W
ith Jordan hemorrhaging money, it seems he opted for a more direct route to correcting his financial difficulties.”

  It was dicey, letting an Offworld assassin operate on Hospitalis. Things would’ve been bad enough with the Offworld contingent flaring up every other day. The Port Disaster, Guillfoyle’s treachery, everything was getting to be too much. Alyssa didn’t think the citizens of her fair city could handle any more tragedies. “Tell me about this assassin.”

  Vasily went to send the profile on Chadsik over to Alyssa, but stopped; she wasn’t going to access any of the information. She was trying to distance herself from the decision. An ‘ears-only’ conversation was just that: a conversation. If necessary, she’d hang him out to dry. Rough, but realistic. “Chadsik al-Taryin is a FrancoBritish citizen from the old homeworld itself, Trinity Prime. Details of his early youth are sketchy, but that’s to be expected: Arcade City, his home, is a cesspool of unlimited proportions. They say only two things come out of Arcadia. Soldiers and the dead.”

  “’They’?” Alyssa asked reprovingly. Like every one of her people who’d gone to Trinity for additional training, the man was notoriously reticent about discussing the things he’d seen and done during those years.

  Ignoring Alyssa’s taunt, Vasily continued. “Chadsik, who most often prefers the diminutive ‘Chad’, is a man of singular talent. He never fails.”

  “Never?” Alyssa found it hard to imagine such a thing, and it showed in her voice.

  Vasily nodded with absolute confidence. “Never. Luckily for Trinity, Chadsik is mentally unstable, heavily addicted to an army’s worth of drugs, and is on his way down and out.”