Extensis Vitae: Empire of Dust

by Gregory Mattix

  “By all means. Lead the way.” Reznik wondered whether the new skin had truly incurred no debt, as Lynessa had claimed. She might just not be privy to her mother’s schemes.

  ***

  “Ah, our heroic Mr. Reznik has returned to us. Goldeneye, the liberator of Skin City!” Lady Angelis approached Reznik, hips swaying suggestively and a dazzling smile on her flawless face. Her eyes were dark with flecks of burnt orange, and her leathery wings were folded neatly behind her back. “Welcome back.”

  “It’s good to be back. Thank you for the new skin and all you and your daughter did in bringing me back. I greatly appreciate it. This skin is definitely an improvement over the old one.” Reznik felt slightly flustered in her presence, as he often did when she turned on the charm. “Please tell me that, ah… nickname hasn’t stuck.”

  “What, you don’t approve?” Lady Angelis laughed. “It started with the common folk, and your legend grew after your passing. You hold a sort of mythical status around here now.” She grasped his arm and pulled lightly to get him to walk with her. “How do you think they’d feel about your return from the dead?”

  “Hard to say. I think for now it would be to our advantage to keep that knowledge close-held. I’ve made more than a few enemies, and soon I’ll be hunting the big fish in even more dangerous waters.”

  “Ah yes. Is it vengeance you seek? The Thorne forces that swooped in and wrecked my beautiful city… Such heavy-handedness was totally unnecessary, and until that, our little revolution had succeeded with barely a shot fired.” She frowned.

  “I wouldn’t say barely a shot fired. Quite a few gave their lives for the cause. I’m sorry your son didn’t make it back.”

  Lady Angelis nodded. “I’m sorry as well, but I don’t blame you or anyone else. We all knew the dangers inherent in that operation. I think Lynessa is actually starting to assert herself quite a bit more, now that she’s no longer in her brother’s shadow. She was crushed at first, naturally, as we all were, but now she’s gaining some much-needed confidence. She’s adapting quite ably.” The matter-of-fact way she talked of her daughter made Reznik think of a scientist discussing a promising experiment.

  The two of them entered a sitting room where a bottle of champagne was on ice with a couple flutes. Lady Angelis handed Reznik the champagne bottle, and he popped the cork. She filled the flutes with practiced ease.

  “Yes, I was a bit surprised but impressed with Lynessa’s newfound confidence.” Reznik accepted the glass with a nod of thanks. “Will you bring Lars back?”

  “I think not—for the time being, at least—although one never knows what the future will bring. But let us put aside talk of the dead and instead focus on new beginnings. Here’s to many more fruitful years of partnership between us.” She held up her flute in a toast.

  Reznik clinked glasses with his host. He took a sip of the champagne and studied her, wondering what she was after. “I hope so as well. To answer your earlier question: I suppose I am after vengeance to some degree. Not necessarily for myself but more for the friends and innocent people that have had their lives upended and shattered by Thorne Industries. The world would be a better place without that tyrannical corporation.”

  “I don’t disagree, but I wonder if the war and upheaval resulting from such a removal might be the proverbial cure that proves worse than the cancer itself.” She moved in closer and placed her hand lightly on his chest. “I told you before, but you really do intrigue me. Why are you so concerned with the ‘innocents’ that you mention? Is there truly not a selfish bone in your body? The thought of that is hard for me to fathom.”

  She’s trying to get me to slip up by making me uncomfortable. That seemed to be a favorite tactic of hers during verbal sparring—one that Reznik had no doubt she used to her great advantage, no matter who her opponent was. He stood his ground.

  “De Oppresso Liber,” he replied. “To liberate the oppressed. That’s what I did as a soldier. It’s the right thing to do.” He shrugged. “It’s all I know.”

  “Mmm… you never cease to surprise me, Mr. Reznik,” Lady Angelis murmured, her face inches from his. “I, for one, am glad that we are on the same side.” She gracefully tipped her champagne flute and took a sip, her eyes never leaving Reznik’s. Her perfume was intoxicating, and Reznik felt himself flushing from the close proximity to her ethereal beauty.

  “You know, I think you deserve a break from fighting other people’s battles. I find myself in need of a security chief for the city. You could help me run things here. Does that interest you?”

  “That’s a very tempting offer, but now’s not the right time, I’m afraid. There are greater forces at work, and I need to do what I can to assist before I start thinking of my own future.”

  Lady Angelis frowned prettily. “You have to start thinking of the future at some point. One can’t wander aimlessly forever.” She gripped his arm and pulled him toward the hallway. “But I do understand, of course. The offer will remain open for a while… if you are still interested once you resolve your matters.”

  Reznik gulped down his champagne and allowed her to lead the way, relieved at the change in conversation.

  “Would you care to join me for some food? I’d love to hear more about your plans. Skin City will be an important ally in the coming storm.”

  “Absolutely. And I’d love a bite to eat,” he said with a smile.

  She glanced at him, returning his smile. Her eyes had shifted to a greenish blue, almost turquoise hue, which made Reznik think of someone else.

  I need to find Rin. She’s got a role to play in all this, and I need a loyal ally—someone to bounce my plans off of and keep me grounded. He hesitated to admit it to himself, but he missed having her around.

  Chapter 15

  “Rough night last night?”

  Marcus jumped when the voice came out of the darkness as soon as he opened his office door. When the light came on, he saw Bethany reclining in his chair, feet up on the desk.

  “Good morning.” He tried to play it off, wondering how much she knew. Beefy and Taciturn told her. I knew I couldn’t trust them. Beefy had said they hadn’t called in his disappearance to CorpSec, yet one or both of them obviously reported his actions to Bethany regardless. Marcus wasn’t too surprised—she had assigned them as his bodyguards in the first place.

  “Want to tell me about it?” Bethany’s face was carefully blank. Marcus couldn’t tell what kind of mood she was in.

  “Not particularly.” He hung his coat on the hook beside the door and set his coffee cup on the desk. “What’s going on this morning?”

  “You were about to tell me what the hell happened last night.” Bethany stood up and moved toward Marcus, her lithe form full of coiled tension, like a spring about to explode.

  Uh oh, she’s not happy. Marcus tried to sidestep her and get to his chair, but she grabbed a handful of his shirt and easily shoved him against the wall, as unrelenting as a bulldozer. There’s something else too… she’s concerned.

  “How about you don’t fuck around, Marcus? These are dangerous times,” she said quietly, her breath warm on his face as her piercing eyes searched his. “Tell me what happened.”

  “Well, you obviously know already, or you wouldn’t be here,” Marcus snapped, annoyed at being accosted the second he stepped in the door. He put his hand on hers, trying to pry her grip loose.

  After a moment, she loosened her grip but didn’t give any ground.

  “I’m fine, by the way—thanks for asking. Can I at least get to my coffee? It’s been a long fucking night, and my head is pounding.”

  Bethany relented, taking a long look at the knot on the back of his head. She backed off and allowed Marcus to slump into his chair. He took a long drink of the hot coffee and sighed as the beverage warmed him up.

  “All right, here’s what happened. I was feeling cooped up with all the shit going on around here, so I wanted to get out for some fresh air, maybe stop at a club for a fe
w drinks.” Marcus glanced at his inbox as the display illuminated with a swipe of his hand.

  “Continue,” Bethany prompted. She sat on the edge of his desk, studying him.

  “So, I was going to get something to eat and grab a couple drinks. I stopped at this sandwich joint to hit the can. When I walked to the back, there were a couple thugs smoking just outside the door. One of them pointed a gun at me and asked me if I had the money. I told them I had no clue what the hell they were talking about, then they grabbed me.” Marcus took another long sip of coffee, pleased that the story was starting to flow as the caffeine woke him up. “One of them shoved a gun in my side, and they hustled me to this car and threw me in the back seat. They kept calling me Walker. I told them they had the wrong guy, but they drove me around for a while. We pulled up in an alley, where another thug looked at me and told them they had the wrong guy. From what I gathered, they were Rage dealers or something. We drove away, and one of them smacked the shit out of the back of my head. I woke up with Beefy pointing a flashlight in my eyes. That’s all I know.” He leaned back in his chair and met Bethany’s eyes, hoping he looked more confident than he felt… and more truthful.

  “What an unlikely story,” she said after a moment. “Why weren’t Hendricks and Olsen with you the whole time?”

  Marcus shrugged. “I told them I just had to run in and use the restroom. What, are they supposed to hold it for me, too?”

  “If that’s what it takes to keep you safe,” Bethany snapped.

  “Thanks for the concern.” Marcus gave her an impertinent smile. Not sure if she believes me, but I can tell she wants to.

  Bethany snorted and then cracked a smile of her own. “You’re up to something, but I don’t know what—yet. This story sounds fishy, but it does confirm the report I got. Don’t let it happen again.”

  “Aye aye, ma’am.” Marcus gave her a mock salute, relief washing over him. “The last thing I want is to wake up in a pile of garbage with a cracked skull, believe me.”

  “Good, because we’ve got work to do. Your system accesses are ready to go. Follow me.”

  ***

  “Sir, you wanted to see us?” Beefy and Taciturn stepped inside the Section 7 inprocessing center the following day. They looked around curiously but remained by the door.

  “Yes, come in, fellas,” Marcus said cheerfully. “Have a seat.” He gestured to two chairs where newly minted skins, fresh from the grow vats, were imprinted with their corporate directives. The chairs looked like rugged versions of the kind found in a dental office, the obvious difference being the sturdy restraints built in. Marcus glanced at Brent, who was fiddling with an equipment rack. He nodded at Marcus that everything was ready.

  The two bodyguards exchanged glances. “Sir?” Beefy asked, clearly uncomfortable.

  “I just need to run some quick checks, that’s all. You two will be fine. Surely you remember this place?” He patted the back of one of the chairs. “Come on. Sit.”

  Beefy lumbered forward and eased his bulk into the first chair. Taciturn hung back for a moment. “Sir, I don’t believe this falls within the allowable duties.” The man spoke so rarely that when he did, Marcus was always surprised at how high pitched his voice was for such a big man.

  “Just humor me for a moment, would you?” He must be the one.

  Taciturn looked around nervously, then his eyes met Beefy’s. With a nod of encouragement from his partner, Taciturn finally relented, gingerly sitting in the other chair, as if the flip of a switch might eject him forcefully through the roof of the building.

  Marcus nodded to Brent, who punched a few buttons on the control panel. The sturdy restraints, fashioned from woven bands of graphene filaments, snaked out and secured the two skins in place with bands around their chests, wrists, and ankles.

  Beefy’s eyes darted to Marcus in alarm, but he remained still. Taciturn, on the other hand, began fighting against the restraints. He grunted and strained, but the restraints were built to immobilize even the most powerful skins.

  “Take it easy, big guy.” Marcus removed a pair of tokens from a secured vault. The tokens were about two-inch-long hexagon-shaped devices with a port on one end.

  “Director, you must release us—this is unacceptable,” Taciturn snapped. “You have exceeded your authority here.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you, but that’s not true. I have been granted full access. Now kindly be quiet so we can continue.”

  Taciturn glared at Marcus but didn’t say anything.

  I sure hope this works… I’d hate to have one of the guys watching my back so pissed off. He went behind Taciturn’s chair and slipped the token through an open slot in the headrest. The token snapped into the port at the base of Taciturn’s skull with a click. Marcus repeated the process for Beefy.

  Holodisplays sprang up in front of each skin, projected from their left eyes by tiny projectors. Marcus entered his access code, and the displays flashed green. “Root access granted,” a message announced. His two bodyguards both had blank looks on their faces, eyes wide and unblinking. They look hypnotized. He snapped his fingers in front of Taciturn’s eyes, but he didn’t react.

  “State your names and who you report to.”

  “Charles Hendricks. I report directly to the director of Section 7, Marcus Mason,” Beefy replied immediately.

  “Thomas Olsen. I report directly to the chief operations officer, Bethany St. Pierre,” Taciturn stated.

  “Ah ha, so you’re the sneaky little prick,” Marcus said. He had known one of them had to be Bethany’s spy but had been unsure which—if not both—it was. “Changed directive: from now on, you two report to me only, is that clear? You do not report on my activities to Bethany, Alistair Thorne, CorpSec, the executive committee, or anyone else.” He watched as the new directives populated on the skins’ status displays. “You will follow my orders and nobody else’s. You will protect me from all harm… and those I designate as friends,” he added, thinking of Ayane. He went on to modify their directives as needed. Then he finished with, “You will remember nothing of what occurred inside this lab. That is all.” He acknowledged the new directives and closed out the user interfaces.

  “Is that all I need to do?” Marcus asked Brent.

  His friend gave him a thumbs-up. “Congrats, boss. You’ve got your own customized bodyguards now.”

  ***

  Marcus sat in his office, deep in thought, idly tapping a pen against his chin. He was trying to figure out the best way to get around an order from the Executive Council. All automated backups had been disabled by order of the Council, pending the results of Marcus’s investigation of the corrupted servers, which was fine with him. He just needed to take advantage of the opportunity presented.

  I need to sit down with Ram and Brent to see if it’s possible to reverse the backup process. If we can do that and I get everyone else locked out of the system, we might have a chance. The skins are the key to this. I know Ram and Brent are trustworthy, but I need to approach them in just the right way, or they’ll get spooked. They’ve got as much to lose as anyone… maybe more. I have to wait until I talk to Dad again, and we figure out what the timeline is. If I make my move too early, I’ll get found out. Just need to stall my “investigation” and feed the Council a line of convincing B.S. to keep everyone off my back until the time is right.

  A chime alerted him to an incoming Datalink message. Marcus frowned. The sender field was scrubbed. “Open this,” the subject line stated. “Private comm channel,” read the body of the message, referring to an attachment. Normally suspicious of such messages, Marcus realized that, with the timing, it was likely from the rebels. His father had mentioned at their meeting they needed a secure way to communicate.

  Marcus crossed his fingers and activated the attachment. His HUD graphical user interface flashed, acknowledging an update, and a VPN appeared on his contact list. The new virtual private network would exchange 512-bit private encryption keys with the rebel
contact and allow them to communicate while making it extremely difficult for InfoSec to eavesdrop.

  Nice going—should make things a bit easier. I just don’t want to draw attention by contacting them any more than the bare necessity. Now I need to locate the schematics they need without getting caught. Once that’s done, no matter the outcome of this impending revolt, at least I won’t have the constant paranoia of being found out wearing on me.

  He frowned at the cold cup of coffee on his desk. With a sigh, he got to his feet and went in search of a fresh cup. Looks like I’ll be at this for a few more hours.

  ***

  “You say we’re getting that military support from Shiru?” Mason’s eyes scanned the crowded Sprawl square for any signs of CorpSec as he talked to Royce on his Datalink.

  Mason’s team had come in from the outskirts of the Sprawl to make a supply run. Sawyer and Turner loitered around nearby, keeping an eye out, but Mason’s nerves were always on edge the closer they got to the District. Keeva had taken the others to go round up some supplies while Mason touched base with Royce. Although Keeva was technically the commander of the operation, the young woman got bored with the mundane day-to-day arrangements, so Mason often ended up dealing with them. Not that he minded much—he got on well with the rebel commander, and it was critical that no detail, however small, be overlooked. Plans were starting to fall into place, and the order to move would arrive before they knew it.

  The big greasy burrito Mason had gotten a short time before from a nearby food cart sat in his gut like a brick. With a grimace, he took a long drink from a bottle of Shockwave Cola to try to wash the overly strong taste of onion out of his mouth.

  “Aye,” Royce replied. “I spoke to Seijin earlier, and he’s on board although he’s staying mum on how many men he’s supplying. Sounds like our old friend Reznik is around again, so that will be a help.” Mason could hear the smile in Royce’s voice. He couldn’t say he cared much for Reznik himself since they had tried to kill each other at one time, but he didn’t dispute the fact that the former soldier was a good fighter and dedicated to the cause. Since Reznik and Rin seemed so tight last time, he can deal with the Yakuza in case they try to leave us with our dicks out flapping in the wind.