Use of Emergency: The Si-Carb Chronicles Book 1

by Kate Kyle

  10

  Rutger

  Rutger's throat tightened as he watched Nicky walk away. Her feet, clad as always, in her favorite type of soft sneakers made absolutely no sound on the fake grass surface, but he knew her too well. That was stomping. Stomping and shuffling. Frustration and guilt mixed together.

  He knew Nicky well, after fifteen years together and eight of them married, he could imagine how she felt: protective of the job and more importantly the life she had gained with her residency in Rebels' Republic. And still carrying a torch for him… or maybe simply feeling guilty about the way their marriage ended?

  Nicky had always been an honest and fair person, but even her loyalties had their limit.

  "Are you even listening to me?" an angry hiss in his ear brought him back to the present.

  "No," he replied automatically. "Sorry, got lost in my own thoughts," he added, glancing at Jax. "What did you say?"

  "At least, you're honest," Jax said. For a second he thought she'd smile, but her forehead furrowed instead. "But why the hell did you force me to take money from a stranger?"

  "I didn't force you. You said yes. Besides, Nicky is not a stranger, she's my ex-wife."

  "Same to me. Still, why did you do it?"

  "Because I could see she wouldn't give me what I needed. And from what she did and didn't tell me I could see my mission is as big as we thought."

  "Ah!" Jax snapped her fingers. "Your big secret mission," she said. "What was the saying? Kettle and pot? You've criticized me for keeping secrets but you're no better. Who is this 'we', and what are you talking about?"

  Rutger felt his face burn.

  "Okay, okay… we all have secrets. And let's not dwell on it too much."

  "Not too much," she agreed, magnanimously.

  He had to tread these waters carefully. Luckily for him, she had secrets she'd rather not reveal. However, that twitch of recognition on Nicky's face was quite telling…

  "By 'we' I meant the Seekers, the organization that sent me here," he said carefully. "Or rather, I've volunteered to come over here and investigate the faulty implants."

  "And the girl with the balloon and the reference to the strange artifact?"

  Rutger pursed his lips. Jax obviously picked up on the comment he made to Nicky.

  "Hm?" Jax uttered. There was a note of insistence in her voice. "Why did you ask about that?"

  He dug his elbows into his sides to stop himself from any kneejerk reaction.

  At least, it confirmed he'd made the right choice by inviting her to join him in his investigation. She was smart and observant.

  "It's just something that keeps popping up ever since I was woke up from the stasis," he said.

  "Indeed. Have you ever thought it may be following you?" she asked, her left eye twitching as if making ready to wink.

  "It's crossed my mind," he said as lightly as he could. "Maybe we'll need to talk about it at some point, but not right now. You need to get ready for your appointment?"

  Her body tensed, and her chin jerked.

  She glanced at her wrist-unit.

  "No, I still have about an hour but that means there's not enough time to go back to the ship."

  "Why would you need to return to the ship?"

  She drew her eyebrows together.

  "No reason, unless that… Cricket Lady is back with my device."

  "Nicky will pay your bill. No need to worry about that."

  "The tablet also contains my medical records."

  "I'm sure Nicky will take care of that, too."

  Nicky would not lie, but her connections could help circumnavigate some of the obstacles. And that, Rutger had no doubt, she would do for him and, by extension, also for Jax.

  Jax crossed her arms and opened her mouth. Rutger braced for another reproach.

  But instead, her suntanned face paled. She retched and covered her mouth with her hand.

  In one jump he was at her side.

  "Come and sit on the bench," he said, gently taking her elbow.

  "I'm fine," she jerked her elbow out of his hand, but another wave of retching shook her body. With both hands pressed to her mouth, Jax carefully crossed to the next bench.

  He sat beside her.

  "Want me to get you some water?" he asked.

  She nodded.

  Fortunately, he'd refilled his water bottle at the cafe, so he reached to the pack.

  "Here it is." He handed her the bottle.

  She took a few sips, taking deep breaths between them.

  Color returned to her face.

  "Better?" he asked as she returned the bottle.

  "Yes. Thanks. Sorry."

  "No problem. See, it's good that we've stuck together," he started, hoping to push his point across.

  "Oh, stop it," she snapped. "I would have handled it myself. Nothing scary or difficult about it."

  "No?" he asked, carefully watching her.

  "No. Women have…" she started and paused. "Ah, anyway… I may as well tell you," she added. "I'm pregnant."

  Rutger's jaw dropped. A long list of questions swirled through his head, but none were appropriate for the moment.

  "Ah," he simply said. "Judging by the circumstances I shouldn't be rushing with congratulations. And you probably know that if you have a baby license, you shouldn't be working as a pilot, and particularly not travelling interplanetary, and if-"

  "I know. I should be sitting in my lovely suburban house, resting my feet on a lovely footstool, waiting for my loving husband to come back home from his dead-boring, unnecessary, suburban job. But I'm not. And to answer you other question: no, I don't."

  He pressed his lips hard to suppress the smile creeping onto his face. He liked her sense of humor. So much the way Nicky used to be before… before her depression.

  "I presume you mean you don't have a husband, a suburban house or a baby license."

  She nodded, looking away.

  "And you're looking for termination?"

  "No, a resolution adjournment."

  He blinked. It was first time he'd ever heard the term, but he could imagine what it meant.

  "'Til when?"

  "'Til I figure out what to do with myself, my life."

  "Big questions to answer."

  Yeah, it'd taken him several years to even arrive at where he was now, after collecting some big loses on the way.

  "That's why I've decided to pause it all. And since it's possible-"

  "And legal here."

  "As long as you have money."

  "Which we're not going to talk about anymore, because we've found it."

  "Okay," she said releasing a breath. "Now you know, can we please get on with it?" she asked, still not looking at him.

  "Sure." He climbed to his feet and extended a hand. "I'll take you to the clinic. Not literally," he rushed to add, hearing her draw a breath. "I meant, I'll walk with you to the door, and I'll be waiting for you when it's over."

  "You don't need to," she said, standing up.

  "Yeah, but I'll be poking around in the clinic anyway. Remember? I've got a job to do and it happens to be at the same place."

  She looked at him.

  "I'm going to the Life Extension. Brain implants is another department, that's the other end of the body." She tapped at her temple.

  "Actually, you see, young lady, I've studied the blueprints of the clinic in detail and I happen to know that the Life Extension department is not only in the same part of the building, but also just opposite neuroscience."

  "So, you're prepared for your mission."

  "Indeed. Come on, you need to hurry, and I've got things to do."

  They crossed the street. Being the middle of a working day for Segedunians, and since there were very few tourists or business visitors in the station, they weren’t surprised by the lack of people.

  The big, flashy facade hid a very sober interior. Straight lines, logical flows, efficiency and ergonomics, and minimalism stood in direct opp
osition to the glamorous facade. Why bother with such a frontage? Why not spend it on technological and scientific research to reach your goals faster? Why not keep milking the great achievement of the fusion engine and pay off the debt with the mullah from the sales? Why not use the money to build the Utopia at the edge of the System and rub it into everyone else's nose?

  Yeah, the fusion engine had been the greatest invention of modern times. If it hadn't been for the Rebels, humanity would be still stewing in their own sewage and boiling in the hot temperatures and increasing humidity levels, without a hope for a better future.

  Well, they were still stewing, but at least there was hope that with better weather control and reversing some of the climate change processes the Earth could be a more livable place again. Or, if that particular plan failed, asteroid mining and the recent progress in terraforming technology could create new opportunities for the billions stuck in wrong places without other options.

  Following in the footsteps of the few fortunate privileged, like Nicky, who was standing at the nearest junction waving at him.

  "Over there," he said to Jax.

  She seemed deep in her thoughts but followed him.

  Poor kid. She must only be in her twenties. So far, he'd thought of her as the pilot, maybe a little too green behind the ears and somewhat randomly assigned to the trip, but there must have been a sad story behind her decision. She didn't say, and he didn't ask. But she was brave, if not crazy for taking this job in her condition.

  PanAmericans were crazy about protecting the unborn. So crazy, in fact, they'd gone all the way to breaking diplomatic relations with the New EU at some point during the Great Recovery period, over the EU 'liberal' abortion laws. That happened such a long time ago, and fortunately, thanks to a great deal of diplomatic intervention, peace was restored, but the differences were not and the incident had been a scar on the human history.

  One of many scars.

  "Hurry up," Nicky called out to them. "I'm running late for my clinic, and I need to escort Jackie to her appointment."

  "Coming," Jax replied. "You go wherever you need to be," she said picking up the pace. "It'll take a couple of hours."

  He watched Jax walk away with Nicky. Once they disappeared through one of the automatic doors, he crossed to the nearest 'comfort corner', which looked like a perfect place to consider his next steps. A few deep, plush armchairs around a low table, hidden behind a row of potted plants. There was even a hot drinks machine on a shelf at the back! Surprising and not surprising at all. Having read and heard about all the expensive sophisticated medical procedures that Si-Carb offered, he'd prepared himself for a top-notch, hi-tech and at the same time dripping-with-gold type of interior. But given the minimalism and pragmatism of the clinic's interior, the comfort corner was a real surprise.

  He poured himself a hot drink labeled as coffee and sat in one of the armchairs.

  The steam from the cup (fully recyclable, as per the note on the cup), tickled his face. He took a deep breath and the coffee's aroma filled his nose.

  Is this the real stuff?

  He took a sip and let the smooth, bitter taste fill his dry mouth. As far as he could tell, the hot, dark brew tasted just as good as the coffee he sometimes had in one of the top New Randstad's cafes. But the Earth drink was made from genetically re-engineered beans saved from extinction with the production boosted by near-magic technology, likely using yeast. This cup must have been created in similar ways, too. How else? There was certainly not enough space to grow coffee and tea in traditional ways, in quantities large enough to provide it for free to everyone, even visitors.

  Okay, not for all visitors and not everywhere. In the café down at the Central Square, Rutger had paid for his order with PanEarth Universal Credits.

  Rutger sat back in the armchair and took another sip of the coffee. His eyes caught the sight of a large media screen, up on the wall, with a silent video of a seascape being played. No doubt, one of those nerve-calming vids. He'd change the channel if he could be bothered to get up.

  Obviously, the clinic must have its own network. Ed said that all smaller networks ran independently of the major one. That meant, he might be able to access the PSSNet.

  He reached to his pack and fished out his tablet. With a few clicks he found the local network, which, indeed, was up and running.

  A breaking-news message scrolled across the main page of the Si-Carb site.

  "Major PSSNet outage due to a suspected virus."

  Rutger tapped on the headline and a second later, he was staring at the familiar image of a girl with a balloon and the same slogan he'd saw at the café: Release the Artifact! The short article accompanying the picture warned that the image was likely to be a virus and not to click on it. Apparently, the Segedunum's best network specialists were working hard on restoring the connections. In the meantime, it was still possible to access the Net via local networks. The article ended with a please do not search for the suspected virus or click on the image.

  Rutger's fingers itched. First thing he wanted to do was to search for the image and find out more. It reminded him of something he'd seen before. An image, a painting or maybe a photo, a drawing by some famous twentieth century artist. But doing it in the hospital network was a really bad idea. He'd have to find a safer, more contained spot.

  He drained his coffee and pushed the cup into the recycler.

  A door in the distance opened and steps echoed in the hallway. Long, decisive.

  And then, another set of steps, smaller, faster.

  Rutger ducked behind the nearest plant.

  "Professor Harris," a familiar, female voice called out. "May I please, please, talk to you?"

  The long, decisive steps stopped.

  "Ms. Zhou, I've already told you everyone will receive the same attention, but we must prioritize those most unwell."

  "You have to prioritize him. I was promised help," the female voice insisted.

  Rutger peaked out through the thick canopy. Two figures stood a few yards away from him.

  Yeah, Ms. Lulu Zhou, indeed - standing close to a short, stout man dressed in hospital scrubs, in the same shade of green as the uniforms of the retriever team.

  The man raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

  "Ms. Zhou, I cannot do anymore at this stage. However, rest assured, that everyone, every single person who has been admitted to the clinic receives appropriate care. I need to go now." The man turned away and strode towards the elevators.

  Lulu Zhou covered her face with her hands. Her shoulders shook, but there was no sound. She stood there, trembling a little for a while.

  And then, she shook like a dog who just jumped out of a cold river and started walking in Rutger's direction.

  He pulled in his elbows in and ducked even lower. Lulu Zhou marched past the comfort corner, until she stopped at a single, plain white door.

  She pulled a handheld device out of her handbag and fiddled with it. Then, she pressed the device to a small box by the door.

  The door opened and Lulu disappeared inside.

  Rutger slipped his tablet into the breast pocket of his jacket, sneaked out of hiding and jogged as quietly as he could towards the white door.

  The plate read 'Admin'. The box on the left side of the frame looked like a scanner. The screen read: 'Retinal scan verified access only.'

  Did Lulu Zhou, or rather Quinshan Li, just use Jax's device to illegally access an office in Si-Carb facility?

  Sure, he had his own job to do, but a quick diversion wouldn't hurt. Particularly, since this would allow him to check his own preparation brief.

  The door next to the admin office gave access to the maintenance system, the part of the Si-Carb facility with which Rutger was very familiar. And also, well prepared for.

  As per his pre-mission briefing, the door had an electronic keypad, but no retinal scanner. He flicked a switch in his wrist unit and pressed it against the keypad.

  Seconds la
ter, the door slid open, and Rutger marched inside.

  11

  Rutger

  The door closed behind Rutger and he stood in the darkness, feeling his pockets for a flashlight.

  Of course, there was no light in the maintenance room no 3 N-A. Neither bots nor droids required external light to operate. On the other hand, the maintenance infrastructure of the Si-Carb clinic was built to accommodate a human supervisor 'just in case'. Rutger smiled, thinking back to the story behind it. An engineer or an architect, who couldn't imagine a building without overall human control despite all the safety and security data presented to him, designed the clinic with what he believed was an absolutely vital element. It was the construction industry's equivalent of a manual override button. Of course, the said person got sacked when it was discovered, but it was too late to change the design. So, the clinic was built, and the developing Rebels' Republic tightened the rules on who they invited to work on their projects. The rules now included much longer and detailed vetting protocols to detect people who were unable to adapt their belief systems in face of the facts.

  Rutger fished out the head flashlight and turned it on.

  The room was small and almost empty. No brooms, buckets or dusters. Rather: control panels on the walls and a tower-like structure with shelves, filled with quiet, orange-blinking disc-like machines. A charging station for cleaning droids.

  Rutger swept the room looking for structures to help him in his task.

  Actually, a bucket would come handy. But in the absence of such, he'd have to use whatever was available.

  Fortunately, the charging station was located not too far from his target - a vent.

  A good, old-fashioned vent, which had saved the missions of many movie heroes before him.

  He would have chuckled if he hadn't done it so many times before when preparing for this mission.

  A vent, which wasn't even a vent. Since the original maintenance infrastructure had been deemed a major vulnerability, the air recycling system, safe and protected and operated automatically from a secured location, had been added onto the building after the construction.