by J. N. Chaney
"I'm feeling kind of vulnerable, buddy," I said.
X-37 chuckled, which I had almost forgotten he could do. "You haven't called me that since our early days. Your personality has shifted since then."
"What do you know about personality?" I asked, sensing something dangerous I couldn't see.
"The rhythm and inflection of your voice tells me a great deal about your mood. Also, your word choice matters. I eventually realized there is a natural drift in the vocabulary that you utilize. It was very alarming at first."
"What do you mean?" I was curious, but only half listening now.
"My algorithms were not adequate to handle the shift away from our early conversation style. I was not sure if you were the same person and had to consult with other limited AIs during an upgrade session at headquarters," X-37 said.
I backed into a doorway, the alarm at what he was saying pushing aside anything I might encounter on this dark street. "What are you talking about, X? Reaper limited AIs can't talk to each other. This was made extremely clear during my training. And why is this the first time I’ve heard about the upgrading sessions at headquarters?"
"I could tell you, but I'd have to kill you," X-37 said.
The phrase had the quality of a prerecorded message and I wasn't even sure if X-37 was aware he had said it. "Say again?"
"I was explaining that my upgrading sessions at headquarters assisted me with analyzing your personality biometrics," X-37 said.
"Why didn't I know about these sessions before?" I asked, testing a theory.
There was a long silence followed by several clicks. "I'm sorry, Reaper Cain, did you ask a question?"
Loud voices approached and I didn’t respond. I pressed deeper into the doorway, hoping the shadows were enough to conceal me.
Bones and his two favorite henchmen led the way, better armed and more serious than the last time I saw them. They were searching for someone.
"Don't move," X-37 said.
I wanted to laugh at the advice, and since they were passing my doorway by only a few meters, the chance of being caught if I made a sound was high.
Which of course made me want to laugh even more.
I'd had so many Reaper AI-induced headaches and body spasms at this point that I wasn't sure they ever went away entirely. My body ached from the fatigue of dealing with the pain. My stomach was in constant rebellion, trying to eat itself or empty itself, depending on which way the night breeze blew.
Bones and his crew were drinking something that smelled like rocket fuel. I felt bad for whoever they ran into. They were in a violent mood, ready to fight anyone, including each other. Crude bandages and a splint suggested they hadn’t received adequate medical attention after our last altercation.
They stopped just out of view and went disturbingly quiet. I thought they were popping some stim tabs or maybe shooting up with needles. It was hard to be certain just by the sound. All I knew was that they weren't laughing and joking and bragging about all the people they were gonna beat up and women they're going to get with.
"And remember, you stinking fuck holes, we see that freak, we rush in hard. No mercy," Bones jeered drunkenly.
His crew cheered.
When they were about one hundred meters beyond my position and carrying on like a bunch of drunken and doped-up assholes, I slipped quietly from my hiding place and went the other direction.
"I don't like the way this feels," I muttered to X-37.
"Tactical retreat is a perfectly valid option in many circumstances," X-37 said. "Shall I refrain from calling you a gutless punk for not committing suicide?"
"I could still take them. It wouldn’t be a suicide mission," I asserted, despising my defensive tone even as the words left my mouth.
"My analysis suggests it would be a mistake to test that theory," X-37 said.
Breaking contact with an enemy was something taught during basic infantry training. Bones and his crew moved further away, never looking back. Despite their fierceness, they'd never do well against soldiers. I couldn't tell if they watched their flanks, but they did nothing to protect their rearguard.
I moved slowly, careful not to draw their attention. A dog barked when I passed but slunk away when I looked at it. The single streetlight on the corner flickered. I disappeared into the shadows.
It took me nearly an hour to work my way back to the spaceport. The place was even more austere than I remembered. There weren't guards, service crews, or civilians loitering near the gate.
X-37 opened it for me.
"How is it that the Union doesn't monitor this spaceport?" I asked.
"Someone has paid substantial bribes to make this a smugglers’ hub," X-37 answered. "Our encounters with Bones and those like him misrepresent the sophistication of the criminal element on Greendale. The assassins’ guild is a better representation, but not the total picture."
"Well, I learn something every day," I said with a bit more sarcasm than was strictly necessary.
“Zag City is as complex as any place in the Union or the Deadlands. We could spend a lifetime here and only learn a fraction of what it has to offer,” X-37 lectured.
"Where are you pulling your data from, X, a travel brochure?" I asked, moving across the tarmac to my ship. The ramp lowered and I boarded, feeling a sense of relief I hadn't experienced for a long time.
In general, Reapers didn't have their own ships. They needed to travel light and be able to drop everything for the sake of a mission.
But I wasn't a Reaper anymore. I was something else, a rogue or outlaw perhaps. But even those definitions seemed inaccurate. What I was, was a man with a score to settle and all of the tools I needed to do it violently.
"Welcome aboard, Captain," Jelly said brightly. "How was your trip to the city?"
"Do you want to answer that, X?" I asked, working my way to the locker room to strip out of my dirty clothing and take a shower. I rummaged through my pockets but didn't find what I was looking for. Then I remembered the cops had taken my cigars.
That was a shame, because I was starting to grow attached to the cheap Gronic Fats. I doubted they were sold off-world and I didn't plan to return to that gloomy place.
As much as I wanted to take a long, luxurious shower, I went through the basics like I was getting called to drill by an angry sergeant. I dressed, thankful that I had no more attacks from my Reaper hardware. "I've got a question, X," I said.
"I can't wait to answer it," X-37 said.
"Can you block the ROS with Jelly’s help?"
X-37 sounded pleased when he gave me the answer. "Yes, we certainly can. With our combined power and the shielding of the ship, I can block the ROS."
I relaxed and went to the bridge. The hallways were narrow, the ceiling short, and it was already feeling like home. The door to the bridge opened. I entered and lowered myself carefully into the pilot seat.
"Okay, Jelly, I’ve got a job for you," I said.
"What can I do for you, Captain?" she asked.
"I'd like you to check with spaceports and see if Elise or this unknown Reaper have left the planet," I said.
"My design allows me better manipulation of ship logs and travel manifests," Jelly said. “Tracking individuals is more of a job for X-37."
"Work together," I suggested. “I'll do what I can on my workstation just in case your combined computing power overlooks something a little human random guessing might put together."
Some time passed. I shifted in my seat, already tightening up from my recent efforts. The workout I had performed before going to Zag City was also hitting me.
"Are you ready for an update, Captain?" Jelly asked.
"Hit me," I said.
"Captain?" Jelly seemed confused and a bit alarmed.
"He means give him the answer," X-37 provided.
"We believe we have confirmed that Elise has not left Greendale. However, for us to conclusively predict and foil any future attempts would take all of our combined processi
ng power."
"Do what you can," I said.
"You may have to live without us for a time, Captain," Jelly said. "It's a big job and Greendale has a surprising level of black-market access to the Gal-net. That, in combination with the ROS you encountered, makes it difficult for us to interact with you in real time when you're on the planet, even on the ship to a certain extent."
"Fine. I could use some personal space anyway," I said, not really meaning it. Now that I was faced with the prospect of going it alone, I wished X and Jelly could be my constant companions.
23
"I have a further recommendation, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said.
"I’m sure you do." I rummaged through my locker until I found my backup repair kit, checked to be sure I still had Glandarian silicon beads, and tucked the slim case into my new-to-me jacket.
I strode toward the deployment ramp, wishing I had armor like the mysterious Reaper. All I had at this point was the handgun Frank had given me. It was a large caliber weapon, .45 inches, one of the more archaic measurement systems nobody really understood, and held seven rounds—eight if I added one in the chamber after racking up the first time and flipping on the safety.
“What’s your recommendation, and don't tell me to get some sleep," I said.
"Please disregard, then," X-37 said.
The jacket only reached my mid thighs, leaving less options for weapons concealment. It also had a stale odor from being in storage. I didn't know who the prior owner had been, but we had the same love of cigars.
I fished in the pockets and was pleased to find a prize in the front. The tobacco inside the dark brown paper was dry, crumbly, and falling apart. Rolling it between my palms compacted it a bit. I examined my work and shrugged. The paper smoked too much—actually throwing sparks for a second—when I finally lit it, but it was something.
Without a proper holster, I had limited options for carrying the .45. The weapon was a bit flashy, the chrome slide covered in scrollwork. Pearl inlays decorated the grips.
It was a show gun, a family heirloom most likely. But it had its good points. There was a distinct grip that fit well with my hand and the sights were beefed up to make it easier to acquire a target in a close fight. The trigger had also been worked on and felt smooth.
I tucked it through my belt, then slid it to my back. Before I left the ship, I practiced sweeping open the jacket and drawing it a few times.
For this type of weapon, I preferred to use my right hand. Sensitivity was greater with my organic parts and I wanted to make every shot count if I had to fight.
Was I prepared to face a strange Reaper wearing KFA?
Not even close, but I'd make it work.
"Do you have updates on Elise or her captor?" I said aloud, sitting on a bench despite wanting to rush back into the city and begin searching.
"We are still monitoring police radios and media releases," X-37 said. "It seems they have no leads. Their public information office is also promising a thorough investigation and inevitable apprehension of the suspect, but my analysis suggests this is just meant to appease the public."
"What about the Union?" I asked.
"They have one lightly armed transport freighter in the system," Jelly said. "X-37 has informed me that this is a standard operating procedure for special missions. I've done a larger analysis of the system, however, and found no military support craft should they fall victim to pirates or renegades. We've agreed that this means their mission is more secretive than normal."
"Could be useful information when we leave the system," I acknowledged.
"As for locating Elise, we have no further clues except for one. There is a dead zone near section 32 of the First Intergalactic Spaceport Corporation. The FISC handles all industrial transportation. While not the ideal departure point from Greendale, it is possible that someone tried to avoid Union scrutiny and attempted to stowaway on one of the larger vessels."
"If I were Briggs, the FISC hub would probably be my base of operations on Greendale," I said. "Have you identified the unidentified soldier?"
"Based on compressed photo archives from your own Reaper nerve-ware, that is Byron Thane—believed to have been killed in action five years ago," X-37 said.
I hadn't expected there to be an identification database for the Reapers. Until recently, I thought my nerve-ware was the sole remaining record that existed. Identification matrixes, however, had been very important to the Reaper Corps. A significant amount of my data storage was taken up by compressed mugshots.
"That confirms what I saw, but is there other evidence?" I asked.
"It will take several weeks for a detailed analysis, but my initial opinion of the way this individual moves and operates is that this is not Byron Thane. He could be a close relation, most likely a son, or a clone,” X-37 explained.
"Reapers don't have kids. The background checks were extensive and I never met any member of the RC who thought bringing more kids into this galaxy was a good idea," I said.
"That suggests a clone is more likely, despite no known cloning facility in operation," X-37 said.
"I'm heading to the FISC. Keep me updated," I said, then left the Jellybird.
Fighting through the galaxy as the last surviving Reaper with the entire Union and most of humanity out to get me wasn't all exciting close quarter combat and gun battles. Most of it was tedious legwork, like keeping surveillance on an industrial launch pad and hoping for a lead. If this didn't work, I was going to have to start over and that meant violating my promise to Frank and his family.
My position was good but not perfect. I'd chosen to remain at street level to avoid being silhouetted against the city lights. Like the residential area Frank lived in, this part of Zag City had the minimum amount of illumination. If I went across the rooftops, I could be seen silhouetted against the sparkling downtown in the distance.
I was getting used to the big city nights, even if I could never participate in the festivities. Partying had never been my style. I didn't miss it. For now, I was content to watch other people live normal lives if that was what they were doing, drinking and drugging themselves to death while in search of high-risk sexual partners.
Maintaining the high ground did have advantages in many situations. Before long, I felt someone watching me and understood my nemesis had also chosen that option. Though I wasn't sure how he could carry Elise and navigate the upper levels of the city, which would sometimes require him to jump from building to building.
"Perhaps you should have overcome your fear of heights, Reaper Cain," X-37 said.
A memory of crossing one of the maintenance trenches on Dreadmax caused me to shudder. "I'm not afraid of heights, I'm just smart."
"Was that sarcasm or denial?" X-37 asked.
"Whatever," I said, distracted. I could feel eyes on me and cast a casual glance around looking for whoever was watching me. I'd known the mysterious Reaper, especially if he was Byron Thane, would take the high ground because Byron knew of my aversion to high places. So I'd been watching for just such a tactic.
Surprising me, even in this environment, should've been impossible. "What's the chance this guy has switched out his KFA for one of the stealth armor prototypes?”
I saw the blur of his silhouette on a fire escape above me as the words left my mouth.
"It's about time you saw me," the Reaper said, his voice more natural but still muffled by his gear. "I was told you always did have your head in the clouds, Cain."
“Where is Elise?" I asked.
"She's okay," the man said. “I wouldn’t do anything to her.”
I noticed something about his voice, the rhythm of his words. Talking about the young woman made him uncomfortable.
"Why shouldn't I have engaged that sniper? I was always the best marksman in the Reaper Corps,” he said.
His voice was low and probing with an intensity that suggested he really wanted to know my opinion. That wasn't like the Byron Thane I remembered. The man h
ad been the most arrogant person I knew and that was saying a lot.
A thought occurred to me. X-37 and Jelly believed the imposter could be an illegitimate son posing to be the father or a clone, but I had a different theory. Elise’s father, Doctor Hastings, had been conducting Lex-tech experiments.
Byron Thane might've been healed and had his second arm replaced by combining Reaper technology and Lex-tech. There were several gaps in the theory, but I didn't know the research and discovery timeline or what they had found before the girl went missing.
"I told you why. It was an obvious trap. The sniper had likely been there for days, with perfect shots lined up for every contingency. You were reacting out of instinct and only drew fire," I said, watching him carefully.
The stealth cloak made it tricky to evaluate his nonverbal language. The pauses between questions were informative. Whoever this imposter was, he was thinking deeply and was troubled by what he was discovering.
"Where is the girl?" I asked. "You know they'll never pay the bounty, right? The minute you turn her over, they will kill you or throw you in prison."
"You're lying, but don't worry. I’ve decided not to give her to the Union," he said. "I heard Fratley Oxanos pays well and is reasonably trustworthy, so far as it goes with his kind."
"I heard he’s an asshole," I said.
"He is, but he pays well," the stranger said. "Better yet, Oxanos says he just needs information from her. I can keep her for myself when he’s done, if she’s still alive.”
His words caused my Reaper nerve-ware to tingle.
"That doesn't work for me," I said.
"I don't care if it works for you!" he growled at me almost petulantly. With visible effort, he calmed himself, the blurred outline of his image shifting from foot to foot where he squatted on the ledge above me. "You don't want to fight me. I've got fully functioning gear and better armor. I've been training the entire time you were in prison. Come after me, and you'll die. This is your only warning."
With that, he was gone.
"It would've been useful for you to inquire where he was keeping Elise hidden," X-37 said.