Specter Protocol

by Eddie R. Hicks

  Three men ran forward, their boots splashing through the vomit. Five seconds later and they fell like the others, ejecting everything inside them to the deck with nonstop vomiting. Yanmei’s poisoning nanites were a virus, spreading to those that got too close to its victims, or the vomit on the deck.

  Miyuki scanned the battlefield below, but her optical scanner picked up no signs of hostile targets. She exhaled and removed her index finger from the trigger while lowering the rifle. It was over. Only the haggard unregistered IWs remained.

  “I didn’t say stop!” Yanmei raged over the radio.

  Confused, Miyuki peered into the scope again, looking down at Yanmei as she stalked one unregistered IW. It was an old man, too weak to be a threat or flee, especially when Yanmei grabbed him from behind, and slit his throat. The panic and terror of the battlefield returned, and this time it was the defenseless unregistered IWs running and screaming from an unseen ghostly figure.

  One by one their blood-drenched bodies fell on top of the fallen Yakuza and Bald Skull men. Yanmei was a butcher, slicing through flesh and bone, and spraying blood everywhere. Their grisly ends blared on the radio. It felt like Miyuki was standing with them listening to their cries in Japanese, begging for mercy, mercy that was denied from a vengeful Specter.

  Miyuki didn’t fire her rifle, she only held it steady using its scope to watch. She’d look away if she remembered how to.

  Fingers twitching, shaking the view from the scope, Miyuki had one question to ask. “Why?!”

  “Because our enemies overseas allowed them to work in the city, unregistered,” Yanmei said, panting from the workout she got. “They are loyal to them and can’t be trusted. Walking time bombs with misplaced loyalties. Kill them.”

  She hesitated to act. The Yakuza and Bald Skulls were one thing, they were armed threats, and targets they came here to eliminate or extract information from about who Nobuo worked for. The unregistered IWs weren’t a threat, they weren’t even fighting back, and their ranks were too low compared to Yanmei—

  Near the edge of the deck, Miyuki saw it.

  Someone leaned against the railing, vomiting their insides over the side, forced to by Yanmei’s nanites, his body convulsing. Her targeting reticle hovered above their head. Miyuki lowered the reticle and shot him, a mercy killing. The force of the bullet tossed his carcass up and overboard as crimson mist rained to the deck.

  She shut her eyes after that.

  “Restore power,” Yanmei ordered.

  The freighter’s power returned, so she assumed. Her eyes remained shut as her nimble body stood and turned away from the massacre. Only then was she able to open them and select ‘unlink from the weapon’ from the drop-down menu on her HUD. She saw through her eyes now, the bright light sprawl of Tokyo on the horizon from the top of the stack of cargo containers on the freighter.

  “Regal Genetics,” she heard Yanmei say over the radio.

  Miyuki re-synced with the sniper rifle, using its scope to view Yanmei entering the container the Bald Skulls used, the container holding the strange pods. Yanmei knelt before the only visible pod, from Miyuki’s point of view, reading what she guessed was the logo stamped on it.

  “Regal Genetics,” Yanmei repeated. “I thought these skull foreigners allied with Yoshida… Why would they be using tech from a rival corporation?”

  Yanmei stood, and her head conveniently idled on Miyuki’s reticle. The echoes of the slain IWs repeated in Miyuki’s mind, over and over. And the woman responsible for it remained there vulnerable, with the reticle in the perfect position for a headshot. Her finger inched for the trigger. Miyuki couldn’t explain why—

  “Unless you plan on betraying me, I suggest you switch your aim.”

  Miyuki lowered the rifle and disconnected it from her vision once again.

  The two joined Serge on the bridge. She saw the slumped over bodies of its crew still sleeping in a crimson pool, while the captain’s brains and blood remained plastered across the window. A plaque hanging on the wall hooked Miyuki’s attention. She stood ahead of it and read the gold colored English words, and the name of the freighter: the Kobayashi, property of the Yoshida Corporation. Serge wasn’t kidding. Yoshida sent the Skulls here, with Regal Genetics technology, looking to buy unregistered telepaths from the Yakuza.

  Yanmei approached the screen Serge had used his sleeve to wipe away the blood. She viewed its contents, grinned, then pulled out a network cable, and jacked in.

  “This freighter launched from Los Angeles.” Yanmei held the grin, and then spoke into her radio. “All units, board the freighter now.”

  Serge faced her. “What’s going through that head of yours?”

  “This is our chance to follow Nobuo’s steps.”

  “By doing what?”

  Still grinning, Yanmei jacked out. “Entering the Alliance undetected.”

  Eighteen

  Estrella

  The motorbike night ride to Lady M’s mansion was a long one. Estrella got to see Los Angeles move forward and watch the various districts travel past. She was in the IW district at first, hopping on her bike, as the gray goo that was once her suit and helmet slipped from her arm, covered her body, and returned to that state.

  On her ride across the freeway, she observed three giant structures painted in window lights from top to bottom. The triple towers of the Yoshida Corporation’s headquarters. District two and three were next with its low crime and expensive cost of living. Its condos were like a wall around the west side of the urban sprawl, because once you left that district you were pushing onto Beverley hills, district one, where all the privileged humans lived.

  There weren’t many high-rise buildings here, the wealthy would complain about the glow of neon, holographic ads, and the fact the high-rises would block out the sun most of the day. They wanted houses, and nothing else. Estrella’s bike ride continued, traveling up the hills, speeding past elegant homes, expensive cars, pushing higher and higher up toward the place folks used to call Bel Air. The higher she got, the bigger the houses became.

  By the time she reached the top, she came to a stop near Lady M’s estate, a four-story mansion with valet parking. Estrella opted to park a block away; she really didn’t trust those penguin valet drivers. That and it allowed her to give a nod to Ray who lurked in the darkness next to the shrubbery with a baseball cap and shades on. Ray gave a subtle nod back.

  A golden gate separated the driveway from the rest of the road, but they left it open as the visitors were still arriving and getting checked in by security. Estrella’s optical scanner picked up six rooftop snipers, and Geoffrey brought her attention to three other guards with assault rifles idling in the garden. The expected odd looks hit Estrella from all sides as she was still wearing her biker suit and helmet, unlike the guests, sporting luxurious suit and ties for the men, and long sequined dresses for the women.

  She sent the appropriate nanite swarms to dress her up, melting her suit into goo, sending it into her arm, while another wave of goo covered her body. One moment, she stood in the middle of the front garden, arms stretched out and body enveloped in gray goo. The next, the goo transformed into the black dress she’d bought, complete with the heels, and matching handbag. There were no more odd glares aimed at her. She grinned while removing the NC gauntlet, stuffing it inside the handbag, next to her Asagiri40 pistol. Now she looked like one of them. She wanted to gag.

  The doorman stopped everyone to perform the usual baggage checks. It gave her time to look up at the high ceilings, shimmering chandeliers, and marble tiles. This wasn’t a mansion; it was a fucking castle sitting on top of a hill. The doorman waved her forward. It was time for her bag check.

  “You’ll get it back when you leave,” said the doorman as he plucked the Asagiri40 from her handbag.

  “You can give it back to her now.” It was the voice of Lady M.

  M’s projection flashed to life, standing between Estrella and a startled doorman. Lady M wore a long
platinum gown hugging the edges of her figure, her curves especially. You could make out the full shape of her breasts and nipples. It was like the gown was trying to squeeze her. For an added effect, likely due to her being a hologram, it looked as if there was snow falling across the fabric of the outfit.

  “At once,” said the doorman. He placed Estrella’s weapon back in the bag.

  “She’s a fucking RW in case her eyes didn’t give it away,” Lady M said. “Her AI’s programmed to prevent her from harming humans.”

  “Sorry.” He made a traditional Japanese bow. “I was just following your orders.”

  “That NC gauntest she has in there is more dangerous than her fucking gun. And you call her out for that? Ha!”

  Estrella’s handbag was once again over her shoulder. Lady M walked with her, giving her a brief tour of the posh hallway decorated with furniture reminiscent of a wealthy home found in the 19th century and the same with the paintings on the walls, and mirrors. It surprised her to see M had a reflection.

  “Rodriguez, welcome to my lovely place of dwelling.”

  “Even at home you appear as a projection,” Estrella snorted.

  “That dress and shoes are absolutely appalling, however,” Lady M said, ignoring Estrella’s comment. She stopped to point at Estrella’s cleavage and the dress’s lower split. “Did you not receive my recommendations for dresses?”

  “I did. They fucking made me look like I sucked dicks for a living.”

  “Listen,” Lady M said leaning closer, confusing Estrella’s senses expecting to feel the warmth of her body. “Next time, you dress the way I tell you. You’re my doll, this is my dollhouse, and you will dress up or down the way I want you to when I tell you to. Understood?”

  They arrived in the central ballroom area, a wide and expansive room with scattered tables covered with silver plates holding a variety of finely prepared canapé meals. Estrella wouldn’t be surprised if they had real meat from slaughtered animals, the rich always got to break the rules. Above were overhanging balconies from the second floor, and dead center was the elaborately patterned carpeted staircase traveling up to the upper level.

  Beyond the tables stood the invited party guests, mixing and mingling, chatting about the economy, the trouble their spoiled children got into, and laughing with wine glasses in hand. She caught a glimpse at some flirting going on too, which was strange to Estrella as her optical scans detected that nearly everyone wore wedding bands. Butlers carrying drink trays moved about collecting empty glasses or offering refills to the sound of centuries-old classical music playing from the overhead speakers on the ceiling.

  She nodded at the scene with twisted lips, her hands on her hips, and then cringed. Estrella never realized how soft the dress was until that moment.

  “Impressed?” Lady M asked.

  Estrella walked forward, eyeing the partygoers and their drunken smiles. “All these people your dolls too?”

  “Some. Splendid, isn’t it?”

  And Estrella was M’s favorite doll, brought in for show and tell, and to be flaunted as a prized possession. She grimaced when she remembered M’s words. Dress up or dress down at the clap of Lady M’s silk-gloved hands. For a moment, she wondered if saving up money to buy out her cyberware from Yoshida would be a better option for her freedom and return to Buenos Aires.

  “Well don’t stand there,” Lady M whispered to her. “Do your fucking job. Use that six-billion-dollar body of yours and find out who is dirty. Find out what happened to my ship while you’re at it.”

  She lifted an eyebrow at Lady M. “Ship?”

  “A cargo freighter we owned went silent recently after docking in Tokyo. It’s called the Kobayashi. If someone seems to know… more than they should about it, ask why.”

  And Estrella knew where to start. Geoffrey, activate search mode.

  Understood, search parameters?

  Victor Ashford and Dennis Patterson.

  Her optical scanners entered search mode. She shifted her gaze from left to right, conducting quick facial scans of the guests.

  Targets located, Geoffrey revealed. Estrella faced two navi-points appearing over the heads of the two men she’d been searching for. She zoomed in on their presence, just to make sure it was them. It was.

  What a surprise, Ashford and Patterson seem to be good friends, hanging out alone like that.

  Ashford and Patterson stood at a table together, chatting, and waving off others that wanted to socialize with them. Ashford wore shades while indoors. She had to ponder why after deep optical scans of his shades revealed they were normal ones. They weren’t smart glasses like the ones Ray had.

  Her heartbeat picked up in speed, this was it. Time to see if the half-baked plan to get Patterson talking would work. Probably not, with Ashford around. Estrella found a quiet corner to herself in one of the connecting halls. She grasped her handbag, stopping when a butler approached. He turned to travel around the corner, vanishing from sight and scans. She double-checked the halls, looking behind, to the side, and forward. Geoffrey’s black cat form flashed beside her, he too joined in the search for unwanted eyes. The two confirmed the good news, she was alone. Estrella reached into her bag, pulling out the NC gauntlet, and quickly slipping her true hand into it.

  She looked at her synthetic arm. Geoffrey, one nanite truth serum.

  Her arm opened and out came the raw materials necessary for the drink, pre-broken down into gray goo before she left. The goo traveled up her right arm and onto the gauntlet while her right hand and fingers extended out, palm up, facing the ceiling. The goo pooled into her palm, took the shape of a wine glass, and then became one full of what looked and tasted like an alcoholic beverage.

  Nobody saw her nano print the drink premixed with the drug. She pulled the gauntlet off, stuffing it back in her handbag. Her fingers turned the violet glass slowly, as emerald eyes examined it once again. It looked legit.

  I am quite the bartender, am I not? Geoffrey snickered.

  Estrella smiled, looking down at the black cat. Her AI was finally picking up humor. I’m sure you’ll be giving Robbie a run for his money soon.

  Geoffrey sprinted ahead back into the ballroom and hid under tables. What he saw relayed to her vision in a small mini window. She saw the coast was clear, so she left the hall she shouldn’t have been in. Estrella was back out among the guests, walking and shooting fake smiles with the nano printed drink in hand, acting as if she never escaped the room. She approached a butler carrying a tray full of refreshments, the liquids within them waving with each step he made. Optical scanners reported the tray had no space available. She searched for another butler; he too had too many glasses on the tray. The third one was missing four drinks, it was perfect. Estrella moved to the butler.

  Geoffrey, how many eyes are on me right now?

  According to my scans, approximately seven people can see you. However, at least five of them are showing early signs of intoxication.

  Are they busy socializing?

  Yes, they are focused on chatter.

  Good. Hit me with a short burst of Overdrive when I’m within arm’s reach of the drinks on the penguin ahead of me.

  Confirmed.

  Overdrive was one of the few nanite abilities that didn’t require the usage of an NC gauntlet as the one swarm of utility nanites required swam in Estrella’s body, ready and waiting for new instructions. With the Overdrive command issued, Estrella’s speed increased, while her perception of time dwindled. Those in the party looked as if they came to a sudden standstill, idling with drinks or snacks in hand, lips opened, but only sluggish sounds coming out, the classical music in the background turned to slow and weird noises.

  The butler with his drink tray came into her view. Estrella held the drugged wine glass, eased herself to the butler, and quickly placed it on the tray. She backed away and ordered Geoffrey to cancel Overdrive’s effects. Movement and sound returned to the party. The butler walked away not looking back at Estrell
a who, for a split second, was a blur of black rushing past him.

  Geoffrey, we good?

  She saw Geoffrey’s black cat form look from side to side from under a table, his scans appeared on the mini window. Yes, it would appear nobody has noticed you.

  Let’s get a navi-point on that drink.

  And a small navi-point floated above the drink placed on the tray. Its approximate distance displayed as numbers ticking up or down based on how far the butler’s tray was. Now came the hard part, acting before someone that wasn’t Patterson took the wine glass and drank it.

  She faced the two men she’d been tracking, Patterson and Ashford. They were still standing, drinking, chatting, and oblivious of the witch and her holographic cat sizing them up. Estrella prepared herself by adjusting the top of her dress along with her posture. Here goes nothing.

  She approached the men. The click of her heels was barely audible over the chatter and music.

  Guess M’s gonna get her wish.

  Do you still believe Patterson and Ashford are the rogue members of Yoshida?

  We know Patterson has links to Regal, being the possible reason, the Bald Skulls are still a threat, and here he is chatting with Ashford. And Ray insists Ashford was controlling Portia. I got no reason to suspect he was lying. He just didn’t have any means to prove it.

  And tonight, that might change. Estrella was behind Patterson with her gaze pretending to be admiring the view of the mansion’s upper level. Patterson’s right hand held his beverage, and so Estrella made sure to accidentally bump his arm from behind. Her cyberware enhanced strength almost pushed him over. The glass slipped from his fingers, thanks to the force from the bump, and tumbled to the floor. Crack. Fragments of glass floated across the wine soaking a single marble tile.