Specter Protocol

by Eddie R. Hicks

  And with Estrella and Piper still in LA meant neither of the three had anyone to nano print a new drone or handy items. With those thoughts in mind, Ray flew the drone away from the base, traveling south, and back to the city. With his luck, someone might spot him spying and shoot it down.

  “The RWs will be the biggest threat,” Bashiir said.

  “Even to you two?” Ray asked. “Aren’t you both S ranked?”

  Theo snorted. “Didn’t you see what Estrella did to Nobuo?”

  Ray thought about that fight a month ago, waking up to see Estrella, with one arm, slice Nobuo in half with his own katana that now lay on the bed he sat on. Yoshida designed RWs from the ground up to counter everything an IW, S ranked or not, could throw at them. Add in the various updates their bodies could receive, and a team of two RWs could stomp Theo and Bashiir into dust.

  A hacker like Ray, however, was a different story.

  “We might not need to take them out,” Ray said smiling. “Not directly at least.”

  “Let me guess,” Theo snickered at Ray. “You can hack them?”

  “No, at least not with the apps I got right now,” Ray answered, stroking his chin covered with fake facial hair. “But…” Ray brought up programs he’d been coding in his spare time, showing the two men with him the lines of computer code the laptop’s screen displayed. “Estrella let me peek at the software that operates her cyberware, nanites, and AI. Brute forcing my way into an RW is hard because of their AI and nanites. It’ll kick me out in seconds. But a virus…”

  Ray typed away, the sounds of his fingers clicking the keyboard filled the silence.

  Bashiir looked interested. “A computer virus?”

  “I haven’t figured out a delivery method yet,” Ray said, “or tested it, but yeah. If I can upload this virus into them, I might be able to disrupt their patrols.”

  The exit to their suite beeped. The drone food they ordered had arrived. Theo opened it to greet the flying food delivery drone as its central section opened, releasing mist from the hot grub inside. Theo grabbed it and shut the door, cutting off the chilling winds from outside. He returned to the other two with their meals.

  Ray didn’t eat much at first, his attention focused on programming the virus, still stumped on how he’d get it in the RWs. The only idea that came to mind was tricking the RWs into jacking into his laptop and spreading the malware from there. But why would they do that? Even if they did, what guarantee was there that the plan will work, and the RWs would hand the laptop back? He kind of needed it to continue his search for the woman he loved.

  The smell of pizza lured his face away from the screen. And the sight of Theo taking a bite of his extra cheese slice made it hard to return to coding. Ray closed his laptop. The computer virus could wait. One can’t program on an empty belly.

  Ray grabbed a slice and a buffalo chicken drum. When he used his imagination, it didn’t taste like soy masquerading as meat and cheese. Next to Ray and Theo was Bashiir, his hands guiding his fork into a bowl of salad.

  “The lion that eats a fucking salad,” Theo laughed at him with a mouth full of greasy pizza. “That’s hilarious, bro.”

  “I am not truly a lion,” Bashiir said. “Only adept at changing my DNA to one.”

  “Relax, malaka,” Theo said and wiped his lips clean. “It was a joke.”

  Ray finished his slice, reached for a second, and then paused. He looked down at it with paranoid eyes. “Don’t suppose you IWs have any powers that’ll let you know if this is safe?”

  Theo tossed a synthetic chicken bone into the organic-only trash. “Why wouldn’t it?”

  “All three of us here in one room, unsuspecting of anything,” Ray said. “Anyone could have slipped something into this…”

  “Well if this shit is poisoned, it’s some fucking good poison, bro,” Theo said.

  “They’ll most likely use a biological compound,” Bashiir said. “Poison sometimes leaves a taste in your mouth.” Bashiir forked the greens into his mouth, chewed, and then swallowed. “Especially if I choose to eat as a lion.”

  Theo winced at him. “What? Like a virus?”

  Bashiir forked more of his salad. “Exactly.”

  Ray snapped his greasy fingers. “That’s it!”

  Theo faced him. “That’s what?”

  Ray charged back to his laptop resting on his bed with a pizza slice still in his grip. Using his free hand, he flipped it open, and looked down at his programming job, not giving a shit about the new greasy fingerprints he was making.

  “I think I found our delivery method for the RW virus.”

  Twenty-Nine

  Estrella

  Estrella pulled up to her old job on her bike, the Los Angeles Police Department. It’d been a while since she’d been there. And the closer she got to it, as she walked away from her bike, the more conflicted she felt. Getting pulled from police duty was great, and what she’d been striving for since day one of her unrequested transfer to Los Angeles. The thing was that Estrella wanted to be removed from the LAPD because she received her freedom and a one-way ticket back to Buenos Aires. And that hadn’t happened.

  Estrella exchanged one form of slavery for another. Attack dog for the LAPD to keep the local witches and warlocks in check, swapped for the life of a corporate fixer. She hated it.

  She entered the station and walked forward to the sound of phones, computers beeping, and the evening bustle seconds away from starting. The smell of fresh coffee was everywhere. She didn’t miss this way of life at all.

  Few cops asked what she was doing there, the NC gauntlet on her right hand said it all, and those that did give her a hard time backed off when they read her ID. Estrella was the corporate witch that could have anyone lose their job if they pissed her off. She liked it.

  Her phone chimed; a new text message arrived. She brought it to her face, eyeing the recent message.

  Piper: Say hello to the team for me. I miss them, believe it or not.

  The message made her sweat, as she immediately slid it out of sight, placing the phone away. Estrella wasn’t supposed to be in contact with Piper, officially. Receiving text messages from her in the police station was risky. She looked around swiftly, hoping nobody read it over her shoulder. The station was more crowded than usual.

  Piper’s old workspace neared. The sight of it made her grimace. Another RW sat there with a coffee mug grasped in his NC gauntlet hand, and a network cable traveling from his head to the computer. Estrella still remembered the day the staff were clearing out Piper’s desk, they were throwing everything in the recycling, except the photo Piper had; Estrella grabbed that before they did. She never gave Piper that picture back. A lot happened on that day, like Lady M pulling up in her limo. It had slipped Estrella’s mind until now. She made a mental note to return it.

  “Well, fuck me,” the voice of a police officer called to Estrella. “Look who’s back.”

  Estrella approached the policeman amidst the sound of printers spitting out documents and another phone ringing. “Where’s Peters?”

  The policeman laughed. “Sick of being the corporate lapdog, and want your old assignment back?”

  Looking over the policeman’s shoulders, she saw Peters leave an office handing paperwork to a detective. “Never mind, I found him.”

  Estrella shoved the policeman away, marching for Peters. “Hey!”

  “You got a problem,” Estrella said, not facing the policeman. “Go take it up with Yoshida.”

  She continued storming through the packed hallways, lightly pushing several cops, staff, and detectives aside followed by a barrage of cursing.

  “Yo, Peters!” she called.

  Peters stopped, turned, and faced Estrella as she closed the distance. She pushed two other cops to the side and grinned that Geoffrey didn’t ease her body up. She was getting good at moving humans out of the way, but not harming them.

  Peters rolled his eyes. “Ah fuck.”

  The two met up
in the halls, standing to the side to allow uniformed men and women to slither past. A phone rang repeatedly, nobody picked it up. It must be a crazy night.

  “Just couldn’t stay away, eh?” Peters said to her.

  Estrella snorted. “Why the fuck does everyone think I’m here to request a transfer back?”

  “Because the RWs Yoshida sent us fucking suck,” he said, readjusting his glasses. “Kinda missed you and Taylor, when she wasn’t a traitorous bitch.”

  “You hear about the shit at the port?”

  “Yeah, I did. Bald Skulls ripped apart by wolves?” Peters grimaced and Estrella had a feeling it wasn’t because of that phone that was still ringing in the background. “Oh, now I know why you’re here.”

  “Don’t think they were real wolves,” she said.

  “No fucking shit,” he said. “This is LA, when have you seen random wild animals stroll up, kill gangsters, and not take time to eat what they killed?”

  “Some of them had chains like this.” Estrella’s left arm opened. She pulled out the gold chain with the Jamaican flag and shoved it in his face.

  “Lifting evidence from crime scenes,” Peters sneered.

  “None of you motherfuckers were there at the time.” She put the chain back in her arm. It closed, looking like flesh. “What do you know about them?”

  “What makes you think I know who they are?”

  “Lots of gang bangers hang in that area from what I was told,” Estrella said. “I’m guessing they were part of a biokinesis gang that has a beef with the Skulls.”

  His lips twisted, glancing away from her. “I’m not sure.”

  Geoffrey chimed in. The way his face is reacting suggests he is lying.

  That’d be my guess too. “Give me something on that gang,” she pleaded.

  Peters sighed. “Rodriguez…”

  “I got Lady M on speed dial, yo. Don’t make me tell her you’re fucking with an investigation she sent me on.”

  He rubbed his head, sighing again, and then led her into his office down the hall. Once inside, he shut the door, went to his desk, and accessed his computer. She followed him, standing beside him.

  “They call themselves the Alpha Pack,” Peters said, bringing up police files and pictures of the gang, mostly Jamaican men with long dreadlocks wearing the same chains or dog tags she saw. She scanned the photos, relaying them to Geoffrey. “It’s an IW gang from Kingston. Most of their members were former marines from the Alliance military, discharged after some scandal that involved them went public.”

  “What kind of scandal?”

  “Their leader got into the marines first. Higher-ups knew he was an unregistered IW but ignored it. Shapeshifting marines isn’t a bad thing during missions. Highly illegal but useful. After he got in, he managed to get other IWs secretly enlisted. They got caught along with the officers that realized what was going on but kept their mouths shut. They fled, evading capture with their military training and shifter powers, and held together like a pack of wolves. After that, they landed here in LA and recruited IWs proficient in biokinesis. They spent years learning how to change their DNA into a wolf.”

  She crossed her arms. “Any reason for that? Wolves?”

  “Word has it, their leader, Nelson Tucker, has some weird spiritual connection to wolves and feels all members should as well.”

  “Where can I find them?”

  “The fuck if I know,” he said, logging out of his computer. “They’ve been rumored to hang near Anaheim Street and sometimes the ass end of the IW district.”

  Geoffrey?

  Geoffrey drew a map of the city making it appear in her vision. A line going east to west flashed on the map. Anaheim Street is near the industrial district, and only minutes away from the port.

  And the photos?

  The map updated. Dozens of dots near or on Anaheim Street appeared. Those photos were taken somewhere near these navi-points.

  Peters broke the silent chat with her AI. “You’re going after them, aren’t you?”

  She nodded. “I got some questions that need answers. You’re fucking right I am.”

  “Skulls are still a new player in the city,” Peters said. “But this isn’t the first time we’ve seen members killed by what looked like wolf attacks. It’s safe to say the Bald Skulls and the Alpha Pack recently entered a turf war, somewhere in that district.”

  “This the part where you tell me to watch my back?”

  “I don’t know what you’re planning, but remember, you’ll be entering the crossfire between two IW gangs, both who hate RWs and might mistake you as being one sent by us. Then there’s your history with the Skulls… so, yeah, take care of yourself, Rodriguez. If the Skulls don’t blow you up, then the Alpha’s might take a nice bite of your ass.”

  Estrella headed for the door. “Thanks.”

  And she was back outside, marching for her bike as the goo from her arm covered her head, and morphed into her helmet. Nobody saw the grin on her face. There was one advantage to trading her slavery from the LAPD to Lady M, she gained a lot of authority. No cop, under normal circumstances, would have spilled out information like that to someone that walked in and then later stepped out to commit vigilante-style actions. Estrella was getting away with it because of corporate immunity. She was above the law now, just like the men and women wearing suits in the towers ahead, holding in their hands the potential to replace the entire LAPD staff at the stroke of a pen and the expense of a few million dollars.

  There was an itch at her shoulder. Her skin had become irritated having been wearing the biker suit all afternoon. She went to scratch it, digging her fingers into the faux leather material of the suit. Her fingers felt something else, something that shouldn’t be there.

  She grabbed and yanked it off, bringing it to her face. It was a small device, smaller than her black-painted fingernails, and she was certain it wasn’t there when she got into the suit.

  Estrella grabbed her phone and thumbed a text message.

  Me: Hey, you wanna swing by my place?

  Piper: Oooo, what’s the occasion?

  Estrella never told her what the occasion was. She was too busy staring at the device, wondering how long it had been on her back, and transmitting data.

  Thirty

  Ray

  The drone’s quadcopters kept it high in the air above Anchorage and its multiple levels, buildings stacked over the top of each other. Snowfall covered the drone’s camera, obscuring its vision until its heat turned it to tiny beads of water. The darkness wasn’t helping. The sun had set a lot earlier in Anchorage compared to Los Angeles at this time of the year. Darkness brought out the neon lights of the city, coloring the snow with its glow early in the afternoon. A majestic frozen sprawl, almost constantly dark during the winter, and always glowing.

  Anchorage wasn’t always like that. China had obliterated everything between San Francisco, Los Angeles, and Las Vegas during the war. People that’d been living in those areas got pushed into Los Angeles or to the cites in the north. Throw in the world’s population continuing to expand and refugees from Korea and Japan fleeing China’s control of those regions, eventually giving rise to the Federation, and suddenly cities like Vancouver, Los Angeles, and Anchorage had way too many families residing there.

  The Elmendorf Installation was below, and the drone lowered itself before a sensor sweep picked up its tiny presence. The base’s aerial view grew larger in an instant. The main building next to the airstrip now became everything the drone saw. There were no signs they had detected the drone, so it flew in front of an air intake grate and deployed a cutting laser that moved in a circular motion, leaving behind red glowing lines. It created a doorway, a passage that took the drone through a dark maze of tunnels through the base’s vents. It took an hour to find the meal hall. It took three more hours before the base’s staff arrived for dinner, the RW duo included.

  Silently, the drone descended from the air vent it’d been standing by in,
keeping down to the floors now. It was like a mouse in a kitchen, awaiting to move unseen, and dashing across the floor to a source of food. The kitchen crew was oblivious to the low flying drone. Their attention focused on getting food up for the hungry base personnel. Sometimes the drone had to fly into storage cabinets, retreat under preparation tables, or slide between bags of flour. How it got this far was a miracle.

  A pot of soup bubbled in the kitchen with steam rising away from it, fogging up the drone’s camera. A swing to the left saw no kitchen staff in sight, a curve to the right showed one person standing at a grill, its heat sizzling red, stem cell produced burgers. The drone’s small storage compartment opened, and its robotic arms reached for the nanotube inside. The nanites within became the secret ingredient to the soup, all of them pre-programmed by Ray hours earlier, coded to self-destruct if ingested by a human, and programmed to infect an RW with the computer virus if they got it instead.

  With it being cold outside, Ray was certain the two RWs would want to warm up to a nice bowl of soup. If they didn’t, then they were fucked.

  Ray had the drone return to the air vents and positioned it near the buffet stand where uniformed personnel from Yoshida’s private military filled their meal trays. Somewhere in the lineup stood the two RW patrols.

  “Now what?” Theo asked.

  Ray sat up, stretched his arms, and gave his eyes a rest. He’d been gazing at his laptop screen from the comfort of his motel bed for hours. “Now, we wait.”

  They waited, and waited, watching the screen and the live footage the drone displayed, Theo to Ray’s left, Bashiir to the right. It was time for the RWs to get their food now, Ray wondered if there was enough soup for the duo. It turned out most of the base personnel wanted a bowl. He could see the edges of the ladle’s scoop, resting at the almost empty pot keeping the soup warm.