Specter Protocol

by Eddie R. Hicks

  She saw her reflection in the window as she went to sit at the edge of the bed. Dark nipples, black pubic hair, skinny frame with the signs of cybernetic enhancements in her hands, fingers, arms, and legs. Yanmei stood behind her in the reflection, power drill in hand. She lowered it, aiming the driver bit at Miyuki’s upper back. The drill whirled on, filling the room with the sound of its motor twirling the spinning bit into her back. Yanmei repeated the process four times, and soon afterward removed a section of Miyuki’s back, unveiling the synthetic parts on the inside. Miyuki was more machine than witch now and seeing a part of her back lying on the bed next to her reminded her of that, as did seeing the logo of Zhang Industries on it.

  Yanmei disabled Miyuki’s ability to feel. She was glad she did, the drilling and removal of her back were distorting and somewhat painful. Now Yanmei held pliers and some other tool shaped like a large pen. Miyuki had no idea what they called that one. Yanmei tinkered and fiddled with the insides of her, making slight adjustments to her cyberware and the wires connected with it.

  She remained sitting there, naked, making no effort at using her hands to mask her breasts or fold them in her lap to cover her pubic hair. This had been the fourth time Miyuki had to strip in front of Yanmei for repairs and maintenance. She had doubts it’d be the last. She had gotten used to the woman seeing her like this. Yanmei continued working on Miyuki’s legs and arms, pulling off the maintenance panels, then putting them back. Miyuki felt her back slid back into place. Her sense of feeling returned.

  “That should do it,” Yanmei said, placing one hand on Miyuki’s left shoulder. “How do you feel now?”

  Miyuki’s face turned red. She was glad Yanmei had been behind and unable to see the sudden change. Physical contact was rare for her, even before her death. It made these calls that much more enjoyable. Miyuki felt a hand that wasn’t hers touch her.

  “Great, now,” she said as her muscles relaxed.

  “Good.” Yanmei stood and backed up two paces. “Stand up.”

  She followed her instructions and rose from the bed, turning to face Yanmei—

  Yanmei drew a pistol suddenly, its barrel aimed for Miyuki’s head.

  Panic hit. She reacted by leaping back, breasts shaking.

  Yanmei smiled, one hand lowering the pistol. “Very good. Your reaction has improved.”

  It was a test. So she hoped. Her heart was still racing though as Yanmei tossed the firearm. It landed on the bed between them. Yanmei gestured to the weapon. “Pick it up and aim it at me.”

  Miyuki reached for the gun. She grabbed it, disabled the safety, and aimed it at Yanmei. The process took two seconds. Yanmei did more than correct an error with her cyberware, she made Miyuki’s hands and arms stronger and faster.

  Yanmei’s grin brightened. “Get dressed,” she said. “I will need your assistance with something.”

  Lowering the weapon, Miyuki asked. “With what?”

  “Your first mission.”

  She gasped and brought the pistol to her face, staring at its design and its ammo counter screen. “Mission…”

  “Will this be a problem, Miyuki?”

  “No.” Of course not. Miyuki owed Yanmei for this. A chance to be reborn, a chance to discover what big brother Nobuo was doing, a chance to find the gift he left home to give her. Happiness. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll be there.”

  Goddess. She missed her brother so much.

  Six

  Estrella

  “How much longer, Ray?”

  “Another five?”

  Estrella groaned. She sat on the futon in her living room, arms and legs crossed, wearing a long-sleeved black dress and knee-high socks. Sitting next to her was Ray, laptop resting on his lap, one hand typing on it, the other twirling a pen. Estrella was jacked into his laptop, one long network cable running from a network port on her head to the laptop. Geoffrey’s cat form lay on her lap, not that she could feel it, being a hologram.

  “This better be worth it,” Estrella said.

  “It will be, trust me,” Ray said. “The amount of data I’m collecting from your operating system, and how Geoffrey works will benefit us all.”

  “In what way?”

  “I could make adjustments to your nanites’ abilities,” he said. “Or develop RW malware—”

  “Stop.”

  “Not to use on you or Piper, though.”

  “Why the fuck would you want to make that?”

  “What if Yoshida sends RWs after us? I can’t hack them. But after studying your code, I might—”

  He lowered his head. Eyes locked onto the screen.

  “Ah, fuck,” he drily said.

  She faced him with a raised eyebrow. “Ah fuck what?”

  “Uh, I think I need more time…”

  “Did you fuck something up?”

  “No! You’re good. Just didn’t realize this code was so fucking complex.” He spun the pen in his free hand faster, the other hand typing faster as a result, while his eyes shifted back and forth reading computer code.

  “How much more time do you need?” she asked.

  He grimaced, face still looking at the screen. “An hour?”

  “Hijo de puta!” Estrella reached for a stack of comic books on her coffee table. She tossed aside the ones she read over the last five hours and found the one she desired the most. The cover of the comic read ‘Imaginary Protectors,’ with a trio of sexy anime witches striking a pose as alien invaders bombed a city in the background. She grinned. “Guess it’s time to see how the trio escapes from the alien battleships.”

  And she flipped through the pages, taking in the story and incredible artwork. Estrella had finished the book before the hour was up. She tossed it back to the coffee table, and it slapped against its surface as it landed.

  Curious, Geoffrey’s digital voice spoke. You have seven different graphic novel series, yet you spend most of your time reading this one, over the others.

  I like the artwork. Japanese manga. She shrugged. Yumi got me into this series, been hooked since.

  Ah, so the artwork entices you more than the narrative?

  Eh, the story is okay, though I was never sold on the idea of IWs being the protectors of Earth from aliens, you know? Being an RW means IWs are the villains. She held the comic again eyeing its front cover artwork. But the girls are so damn cute. I wish I could draw like the artist that made this.

  I may be able to help.

  How so?

  I could download and install a digital art learning program.

  Estrella faced Ray. She had doubts he’d finish when he said he would. She tossed the comic back to the table. Yeah fuck it, go ahead, not like we’re going anywhere.

  Her HUD updated, Geoffrey had connected to Wi-Fi and accessed the internet, searching for the program he spoke of. He found it and started the download and install, a single progress bar moving left to right in five seconds.

  “Is Geoffrey on the net?” Ray asked.

  She nodded carefully trying not to dislodge the cable plugged into her head. “Yes, so don’t fuck up the download.”

  “I won’t,” Ray said. “But hey, I can now detect what he’s doing. I’m making progress!”

  Installation complete.

  She found the program in the stored applications menu and activated it. Its screen took up half her view of the apartment she’d been forced to make her home for the past month. Following the program’s instructions and lessons, Estrella reached for a paper napkin on her coffee table. She searched for something to draw with. She saw the pen Ray twirled about.

  “Gimme that!” She snatched it with cyborg speed.

  “Hey!”

  “You can have it back when you’re done.”

  The program continued working as a virtual art instructor. Using the pen and napkin, Estrella began her first sketch, learning the basics of drawing. It wasn’t the best sketch of Geoffrey resting on her lap, but she was damn proud to not fuck it up and pull it off us
ing what she did, a pen and napkin, rather than a pencil and paper.

  Estrella held the prideful grin while putting the program on pause and grabbed her phone. She snapped a photo of the napkin picture of Geoffrey, thumbed Piper’s contact information, and sent the pixie kiwi the picture. Then winced. Flicking across the phone’s screens she noticed the last time Piper reached out to her. One month ago.

  Estrella lowered the phone, facing Ray. “Yo, Ray.”

  “Yeah?”

  “You heard from Piper recently?”

  Shaking his head, he said, “Nope, not since we left Robbie’s about…” He looked away from the laptop, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Last month?”

  “Really…”

  “Yeah, that’s why I’m doing this with you. I haven’t been able to get a hold of her.”

  She laughed. “You’d choose her over me?!”

  “Didn’t want to risk being seen coming to your place,” Ray said. “And uh, you really don’t want to see my new place.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Trust me.”

  Maybe this picture will get Piper replying, she thought.

  It didn’t. Forty-six minutes later and Piper didn’t respond. She lay back on the futon, pentagram jewelry jingling on her way down. Estrella’s long black hair spread on it as her head and back hit the soft material. She held her phone up, made a silly face at its screen, and snapped a selfie. She sent that to Piper with a request to come hangout.

  Another hour went by with nothing from her. It had her groaning, and it wasn’t because Ray took an extra hour longer.

  Piper, where are you?

  Geoffrey chimed in. She may be adjusting to her new life and is busy.

  I just find it strange she goes dark after she told us that stuff which happened to be the same night we learned the Bald Skulls ended up in the Federation…

  Seven

  Ray

  Ray was dreaming again, and it wasn’t going to be an ordinary REM session. He knew this because, like most dreams he’d been having over the past month, it started with the haunting flashes of mathematical equations, and some researcher out in the Federation getting his brains blasted out the back his head while Arianna stood watching with no emotion on her face.

  He became Arianna again in the dream. Ahead were robotic parts scattered across the floor. An arm here, a leg there, and something hollowed them out. A ghostly dissolve of the imagery and Arianna was leaving the burning Zhang facility out in the jungles of Indonesia with secret blueprints to a weapon in her head. The mechanical parts were a component of it.

  This was new. Ray forced himself awake.

  His eyes shot open to the sight of the engagement ring box resting at the edge of his computer desk. His forehead was sore with multiple square imprints from the keyboard. Ray had fallen asleep at the computer. He sat up and stretched his arms up while the neon and holographic light turned his skin purple and blue. A sigh left his lips. Ray wasn’t sure if the sudden need to nap during the early evening was a sign he was overworked and tired—he’d spent a chunk of the day at Estrella’s place—or was it a side effect from Celia’s powers when she entered his brain, trying to make sense of the stuff Arianna put in it.

  Celia. Thinking about her had him grimacing. Did she survive the New York violence? He could really use her help again to organize what was in his head. Piper, despite being a telepath couldn’t get into his head, not that it mattered as Ray hadn’t seen her for the past month. What became of her?

  Ray glanced around his new apartment in the IW district as he stood up. He missed his old place. After a month of living in the community, Ray thought he’d have gotten used to it. He didn’t. Every morning he awoke to the strange ceiling of his open-concept dwelling, then rolled off the mattress he had on the floor in a panic, wondering where he was until he remembered the events that transpired over the past month, or as in this case, wake up at his computer desk.

  The place was a bit of a mess, and he could say the same for what was in the halls. One window let in multiple horizontal lines of light through the blinds, artificial light, sunlight was rare here, just like his old apartment. Ray stepped over unclean and sweat-drenched clothes, broken keyboards, hardware packages, and old computer parts he found secondhand. He didn’t have much incentive to keep his pad tidy, it wasn’t like Arianna was coming over to visit him anytime soon.

  He hoped by now that Arianna would have shown up in some fashion. Even a dead body would have been nice, it’d give him closure as to what became of her after the attack in New York City. But nothing? That was worrying and driving him insane, not knowing the truth. Real journalists couldn’t stand having facts withheld from them.

  Was Arianna avoiding him? Was she caught and her body disposed of in a way that nobody could find it? At least a whole body he could bury and visit the grave from time to time.

  He searched his coffee table that was cluttered with empty bottles of booze. One of the bottles still had the good stuff inside. He found it and put that bottle to his lips, and the flavor of scotch warmed his belly. Ray continued drinking from the bottle, standing before the window, and examining the never-ending rows of condos and lights ahead.

  It was dark out, real darkness as the sun had set for the evening. The city’s lights, neon, and billboards came out to glow on the structures around. Random delivery drones flew back and forth in the gaps between buildings. He checked the time on his clock on the wall, it was after 6 p.m. Ray’s five-minute nap turned to a three hour one taking him to the February sunset.

  Neighboring buildings were so close you could see through their windows, and vice versa. Directly ahead was a dark apartment unit, its owners still at work. The unit below had its lights on, and blinds drawn. Ray could look right in as if he was inside. It was a decently decorated place, bookshelves, beautiful couches where a single witch had been living, and walking around nude, her tits swaying slightly when she reached for the remote control of her TV.

  The witch made zero attempts at shutting the blinds. It was probably repayment for that glance she got of Ray the previous night when he came out the shower, naked with beads of water dripping off the side of his dangling cock. She had caught a peek of that when he walked past the window. And like her, he had the lights on making it easy for her to glance up and see the show. And Ray knew she saw the accidental show.

  Ray continued to drink, shifting his eyes aside from the tits and onto the various balconies in the distance, most covered in old beds and couches, withering away from the elements. Others had laundry drying, kids behind the hanging clothes yapped loudly, echoing their laughter in the high-rise air. The smell of barbeque smoke blew in as Ray opened the door to his balcony with a lit marijuana spliff in his hands. Arianna would be proud to know Ray learned how to roll a joint without her help.

  He finished his smoke and grinned. The THC high temporarily erased the stress of being a wanted fugitive. Ray returned inside, shutting the balcony door. A hint of marijuana musk followed behind. A bowl of rice accompanied him to his rat’s nest of computers occupying the space between his kitchen and living room. There were seven computer monitors on his desk, half stacked on each other, and the others placed side-by-side. Each one played live surveillance feeds from the city using cameras he hacked and secretly controlled. Combined with his facial scanning software, Ray could identify everyone that walked the streets of Los Angeles, hoping to one day find Arianna taking a stroll. Or someone that looked shady enough to know where she was.

  He sat and finished his rice, pushing away empty bottles of whiskey to the edge of the desk near a half-empty box of tissue paper used to clean up after himself when he jacked off. It’d been over a month since he had sex, and his body couldn’t take the pressure. The engagement ring he bought for Arianna idled at the corner, a visual reminder of the quest he took, one he hadn’t given up on.

  The screensaver vanished with a stroke of his computer’s mouse, unveiling the IRC chat windo
w connected to a server deep within the dark web, his alternate place of existence thanks to the new life forced onto him. Ray joined a small hacker group on there, ETG, Elite Tech Gods, a community of the world’s most notorious hackers sharing their discoveries or linking their latest exploits. Ray’s lips twisted. He’d been napping for three hours. Perhaps someone during that time uncovered something for him.

  Ray clicked the chat window and logged in. The MOTD greeted him first.

  Rhinestone posted at 2:26 AM 02/02/82: WELCOME TO ETG. IF UR A COP OR A SNITCH GET THE FUCK OUT NOW. WE WILL FIND OUT AND FUCK YOU UP. OTHERWISE, ENJOY YOUR STAY!

  And he began typing, grinning.

  DigiSamurai: I’m back.

  Rhinestone: WB

  Riptyde: Yo DigiSamurai wb, how you doing?

  DigiSamurai: Tired.

  OBS: Whoa, wait. This the DigiSamurai?

  DigiSamurai: Maybe, who wants to know?

  OBS: I’m new here.

  Riptyde: Yeah that’s him, DigiSamurai, formerly DigiSamurai69.

  OBS: You got the whole fucking world going nuts looking for you.

  Rhinestone: Taking all bets, where in the world is DigiSamurai?

  Ray smiled, not that they’d see it. The dark web’s security encryption made it possible for anyone logged in to be anonymous. Though, skilled hackers like the ones he was talking to have their ways of figuring things out. The many proxy servers Ray used however displayed fake IPs address to those skilled enough to break the encryption coding. Everyday Ray appeared to be living in a random city. Hopping online at random hours also helped throw people off. Nobody knew he was still on Pacific Time.

  Riptyde: Madrid.

  Phreak: Toronto.

  OBS: Sydney.

  The bets kept rolling in.

  Rhinestone: Moscow from what I can see.

  DigiSamurai: Ding, we have a winner.