by HD Smith
“I’m wondering what the hell a rare metal on Old Earth has to do with an old guild started by two Heads from arguably the two most important Houses in the KW.”
Oliver Storm was the real Head of House Storm, but Byron ran day-to-day operations. He was Regent, but treated as any Head of House would be.
“No clue,” Dexter said. “I’ll flag the search results and keep an eye out for any new Harko Royale hits. But you need to get started if we’re getting that diamond before you leave.”
“You’re right,” I said, just as my proximity sensor started buzzing.
“What now?”
I checked the sensors. “Something’s coming.” Surveying the area, I didn’t see anything yet. “No visual.”
“Get the Lucy-hell out of there,” Dexter said.
I glanced at the glass and chrome building where the diamond was stashed. It had several easy-looking entry points, but I couldn’t get stuck out in the open. I’d have to come back when the area was clear.
“The Mona Lisa is worth ten of those diamonds,” Dexter said.
“I’m starting the vehicle now, chill.”
I’d just pushed the start button when a loud motor rumbled to my right.
“For Lucy’s sake,” I said, slamming the shift into drive.
I cranked the wheel to the left to pull out just as a giant bus blew past me, scraping the front left bumper and sending sparks flying as it dragged me a few meters into a street light. The bus slammed on its brakes, but it was too heavy to stop quickly.
“Shit, a bus just sideswiped me,” I said
I slammed the shift into R and floored the pedal, twisting the steering wheel to reverse from the sidewalk and head in the other direction. Returning to drive, I floored it again, lurching forward as the gears shifted.
“What’s happening?” Dexter asked.
The bus, which had decided it was easier to chase me in reverse than turn around on the narrow streets, was now gaining on me.
“I’m being chased by the bus. No time to talk,” I said.
I had three advantages. First, my non-AutoDrive was more maneuverable than the bus. Second, I was going in the right direction. And third, this was my city. I knew more about it than some out-of-town renegade driving a bus in the wrong direction. I also had munitions and a bullet-proof shell.
“Can you lose them?” Dexter asked.
“I’m going to try. I may also blow them up.”
The Sun Blossom vehicles had several options to choose from, but since I was dealing with a bus, I planned to launch the scatter grenades.
Looking ahead, I spotted a narrow, one-lane street. I slammed on the brakes and wrenched the wheel to the right, pressing the button to release the grenades. Bouncing the non-AutoDrive over the curb to make the turn hadn’t helped my accuracy. Checking my rear view mirror, I watched as all but one of the mini bombs missed their target.
The bus skidded to a halt, having received only minor damage, and pulled forward into the alley, which wasn’t too narrow for it after all.
“Dammit,” I muttered.
“Turn right,” Dexter said.
“What’s right?” I asked.
“Trust me.”
The next right was a large roadway the bus would have no trouble navigating. Of course, it wasn’t like it was having a problem now either. And it was gaining. I had to lose this tail and get the hell out of Hong Kong before this crew’s backup arrived.
I was six meters from the turn when an explosion rocked my non-AutoDrive and nearly flipped it over.
“Holy hell,” I yelled.
“What happened?” Dexter asked.
“Not now,” I said, as I wrenched the wheel and barely made the turn onto the street.
A small projectile went whizzing by the back of the vehicle and slammed into a parked moving truck across the street. Crap, they had a mini-rocket launcher.
The bus made the turn, losing a few seconds before it could barrel toward me again.
“Why did you want me on this street?” I asked.
“Just go straight. You’ll see a building up ahead. The sidewalk is boarded. Pass it as fast as you can and let me know when you’re clear.”
I glanced in my rear view mirror. “They’re reloading!”
“How close are you to the building?” Dexter asked.
“Thirty meters, but they’re closing the distance.”
“Just give me the signal as soon as you’ve passed the building.”
Three countdowns were in my head. The time it would take me to clear the building. The time it would take the bus to overtake me. And the time it would take the mini-rocket to blow out one of my tires.
“I hope you know what the hell you’re doing, Dex,” I said.
“Just give the word,” he said.
I spotted the renegade preparing to launch the next rocket just as I passed the edge of the building.
“Now,” I yelled.
The whistle of the rocket as it launched was drowned out by a dozen popping sounds and flashes of light from the boarded building. Dust and debris and several large whooshes of sound and wind pushed out in all directions. The bus was blown over and the rocket knocked off course into a nearby building. My system beeped as a mini-rocket of my own was launched behind me. It hit the turned-over bus’s electric brain. I felt the blast wave as the bus and everyone in it was blown sky high.
“Did you do that?” I asked.
“Yeah. We can’t have them following us or letting their people know about you. I hacked into their comms. Somehow they have myst tech running on Old Earth. Either they’re spending a fortune on myst-infused fuel, or they have specialty tech designed for Old Earth. Either way, that means they’ve got a lot of money backing their operation.”
“Yeah—House Vance,” I said.
“They weren’t House Vance. I heard them talking about the Vance crew as if they weren’t part of their group.”
“They knew the other crew was House Vance?” I asked.
“Yeah, but they never said who they were. They were trying to hack into our tech and figure out who you are, but they couldn’t. They don’t have OE tech, but why would they if they can use KW tech?”
He was right. I would have never spent time cracking OE tech if I could use my normal comms and other gadgets.
“They figured out how to use the rocket launcher,” I said.
“Those are point and shoot. Any idiot can use one of those.”
I laughed. “Do I want to know how you got the building to blow up?”
“Do you think I spend all my time just waiting for you to talk to me? I hacked their power grid six weeks ago and started compiling a list of buildings still consuming electricity. It turns out the building in question had been scheduled for demolition but was abandoned once the mass exodus started. I just hit the go button once your non-AutoDrive was in proximity and I could use the Bluetooth to operate the console.”
“Did you know it would work?”
“Absolutely not. It was a Hallie Mary.”
“You mean, Hail Mary.”
“Whatever. It worked.”
Two and a half hours later, the data sync was complete, and I could finally leave Old Earth. After making it back to the Sun Blossom, I spent some time resting. My adrenaline crash combined with the less-than-desirable air on Old Earth had wiped me out. Two hours sleeping on my ship helped. Within ten minutes I had the Sun Blossom locked down, the data core and all my new treasures safely onboard the Dragon-Fire, and Old Earth in my rearview.
“Are you headed to Tau now?” Dexter asked.
“No, I’ve got an appointment on Lux. I’ll stay there tonight. Finalize the purchase of the building and get everything setup.”
“What name?” Dexter asked.
“Professor Julian Tor-Vargas,” I said. “No, on second thought, put it under Liam Anderson. We’ve not rented that building as Tor-Vargas, and I’d like to keep them separate for now.”
“Okay, no problem; but I m
eant, what name for the business?”
“Ancient Relics or Ancient Antiquities. Something like that. Let’s plan for the auctions to start next week.”
Dexter chuckled.
“What?”
“We should name it after something to do with your favorite 22nd century private investigator. Murdoch Limited or Delicious Antiques.”
“Ancient Antiquities it is,” I said.
He chuckled. “Right-o, daddy-o. Want me to book you a green-skinned fantasy mech on Lux? Assuming you want someone to warm your hot pocket.”
“What are you, twelve? Or just inept at OE slang? I’m definitely downgrading you back to novice level. Nobody ever called a penis a Lucy-damn hot pocket.”
In an ancient vid-stream announcer voice, he said, “Liam Anderson, Dragon-Fire Relic Hunter extraordinaire, OE slang protector, twenty-eight-year-old man-child, and connoisseur of all things Old Earth. I beg your forgiveness.”
“You’re a real comedian,” I said. “And no, don’t book me anything on Lux. I can handle my own entertainment needs.”
“Okay, whatever you say, boss.”
As soon as I passed through the Orion gate and jumped to Lux, I started the data transfer to Dexter. Substream wasn’t a fast way to communicate, but it was better than making him wait until I returned to Tau. The zettabyte would take about forty minutes to transfer, which was a hell of a lot faster than it took to upload to the core.
On Lux, I docked my ship in a public terminal and unpacked my bundle from Old Earth. I’d taken more than the Mona Lisa from the penthouse. I had a keener eye than I wanted Dexter to know. My total haul was seventeen relics. I removed one of the most fragile items, a Fabergé egg. It was red, covered in a golden crisscross pattern inlaid with beautiful diamonds at each intersection. My favorite cousin, Clara, would like it. I also selected an Art Deco style desk clock and a vinyl record. These would be sent to the Museum of Old Earth on Vale, compliments of Professor Julian Tor-Vargas. Which would put his name and credentials in the Worlds Press again, alongside a picture of something interesting but ultimately worthless.
With my packages in hand, I folded space around me and stepped through my own personal wormhole, landing outside a small Worlds Courier office. Activating one of my disguise spells, I entered the shop as an elderly woman with a thin voice.
“Yes, madam, how may I help you?” the clerk behind the desk asked.
I smiled, placing my packages on the counter.
In my altered voice, I said, “I need to send some packages, young man.”
“Of course. I’ll be happy to assist you.”
6
Sector 1 Cortez Towers, Tau, Monday, 12:00 LTZ
Gen
The elevator doors opened onto a landing where a scruffy-looking guy was waiting for us. He had dark skin, two House tats on his left cheek, and blue hair gathered into small tufts on the right side of his head and shaved on the left. The t-shirt under his lab coat read, “Vote Yes on Prop 981.893.”
Prop 981.893 was a resolution from two years ago to stop universities from researching Artificial Intelligence. It solidified the One-Function-One-Bot rule in the Known Worlds. It also meant this guy probably wouldn’t be a fan of Susan9.
I turned to see how Susan9 might react to this guy, but she was gone.
Was she coded to avoid conflict, or was she just meant to deliver me to this floor and that was it?
Susan9 wasn’t an AI, but anyone wearing that t-shirt two years after the vote had passed was most likely against any type of humanized helper bots. Especially ones that could walk around and pretend to be real.
“Hi, you must be the new watcher. I’m Dougie, um … Douglas Emerson, one of the lab techs. Jeff sent me to meet you. He’s running a few minutes behind,” Dougie said, his voice dull and unimpressed.
I stepped out of the elevator, allowing the doors to close behind me.
“Hi,” I said. “My name’s Genevieve Harlow.”
Lazily waving his hand out toward the room, Dougie continued in his same deadened tone, “This is the break area, obviously. The snacks are all free—um, not that you care. I mean, I’m sure you’re used to that.”
I wasn’t, but I wouldn’t be telling him that. I just smiled, then glanced around the landing. It was large. Several chairs and small tables were placed strategically in the space. A small room labeled ‘kitchenette’ was conveniently placed near the restrooms, and a sign with several directional arrows listed a gym, deli, and Labs A & B.
On the wall opposite the elevator doors, a vid-panel showed two different images. The image on the right was Dr. Robert Monroe director of M13 Lab A.
Dr. Monroe had graying auburn hair and a stern jaw, and wore old-school VF glasses. He didn’t look all that nice. I crossed my fingers that his picture didn’t do him justice and he was perfectly pleasant. Of course Dr. Lyle’s professional photo had looked normal—out of date, but normal—and that job had ended with my reassignment and his dismissal. So maybe Dr. Monroe’s stern visage meant nothing.
A young guy with spiky black hair and a genial smile came hurrying from around the corner. I assumed this was Jeff, who Dougie had mentioned earlier, and the person the HR lady said would show me the ropes. He had a standard set of House Cortez glyphs below his left eye. Nothing too special.
“Wow,” Jeff said, looking at me. Then, turning to Dougie, he pointed at me. “Crazy, right?”
Dougie’s brow furrowed.
I had no clue what me meant.
“Excuse me?” I said.
Jeff’s ears turned red. “Sorry. I’m an idiot. I mean, you’re not crazy. I just finished checking in the test subjects. You’re like a dead ringer for one of them.”
Fuck—he had to mean Vera. I kept my face neutral. I shouldn’t know anything about their test subjects. I looked at Dougie as if he might explain what was happening. He didn’t.
“Yo, Jeff, you got this?” Dougie said.
“Yeah, no problem, thanks for meeting her, Douglas,” Jeff said.
Dougie escaped while he could.
“I’m sorry I was late,” Jeff said. “I had to get the new recruits started on their paperwork. My name’s Jeff Gregg. I’m the lead Lab Assistant here at Dr. Monroe’s M13 lab. I’ll show you the ropes and get your access set up.”
“Sounds good,” I said.
“Do people call you Gene?”
“No, they do not,” I said, lying. I wouldn’t get stuck with that horrid nickname again at this job. “I prefer Genevieve or Gen.”
“Okay, Genevieve, right this way,” he said, holding out his hand as a guide.
I followed Jeff as we headed in the direction of Lab A. “Are we using both labs, or is there a different study going on in Lab B?”
“No, the X86 study only needs one lab. Lab B was just cleared out from the last trial. I think the next study, which starts on Monday, plans to bring in a bunch of duds to test for latent magical talent. Some sort of high myst exposure study.”
“Really?” I said, horrified. “That sounds dangerous.”
“Not really. The people they bring in have nothing to work with, so high myst can’t hurt them. Which means it will probably be another failure, but what else are they going to do with three tons of CME?”
“But what if they have a high draw? Wouldn’t exposure to Concentrated Myst Extract put them in danger of an overdose?”
“When I say they bring in duds, I mean complete duds. Wanderers,” he said.
He had to be talking about the CME they’d found at the K12 lab. Why wouldn’t they just destroy it?
I asked Jeff. “If they know the study will fail, why not just destroy the CME?”
“Mage Ink destroys nothing. If they use it in a study, they can write it off. If they destroy it, they take a tax hit, and the Worlds Legal Authority will demand a review of the lab that made it. Mage Ink would rather deal with the idiot who made the CME over at the K12 lab themselves. That’s why you won’t meet Dr. Monroe today—beca
use he’s been sent down there to assess the situation.”
“I heard it was dangerous,” I said.
“It’s potent, which can cause volatility in certain scenarios—like it can’t be exposed to excessive heat or it tries to ignite into vapor, which really just means a giant explosion and too much myst saturation in an area to be safe.”
Jeff was crazy if he thought a CME explosion wasn’t dangerous. Or was he just spewing corporate nonsense?
Continuing, he added, “If it had been disposed of as it was generated, it wouldn’t have been a big deal, but now there’s so much of it, they need to use it for something.” In a low whisper, Jeff said, “I think it’s a public relations stunt.”
I just nodded my head.
“And there aren’t that many legitimate uses for CME anyway. The story about Dr. Lyle trying to sell it on the black market is total bullshit—I mean, unless he was selling it as a bomb. But even that would be tricky because it’s too volatile to be reliable. Anyway, if there was a way to store concentrated myst, that would be one thing, but anything that binds with myst, like crystalized myst-infused fuel for spaceships, can’t be made using CME.”
“I see,” I said.
But if no one could use it, then why was Dr. Lyle stockpiling it? Unless someone had figured out a way to use it; but even if that was the case, why would they need so much?
“Enough about that. Have you been briefed on our study yet?”
“No. Not yet,” I said.
“Then I’ll give you the lab tour first.”
“Thanks.”
As we turned the corner, a glass-walled room came into view. It was decades ahead of the K12 Lab.
I stopped when Jeff did outside the door to the glass enclosure.
Jeff swiped his chipped wrist over the access panel, then said, “Activate lock access protocol.”
A blinking red light turned blue. A computer-generated voice said, “Access ready. Swipe to grant permission.”
Jeff stepped back, motioning me forward. I swiped my chipped wrist near the panel and ignored the twinge of pain as it provided me with the access codes. The light on the panel turned green.
