Sulan Box Set (Episodes 1-4)

by Camille Picott

  The Dread Twins exit, dematerializing from his site. Gun resets the security codes to lock them—and everyone else—out.

  “William!”

  At the shrill demand, Gun logs out of Vex. The whirling blue vortex fades as he pulls off his Vex set. He blinks in the bright light of the real-world.

  Andrea Thompson, adorned in skin-tight riding pants and an even tighter blouse, waves a champagne glass under his nose.

  5

  Infiltrate

  “I said, do you want a mimosa?” Andrea emphasizes this by knocking back half of her own glass, then smiling at him. A breeze ruffles her hair. A little hacking by Nate revealed that she’d received two rounds of hair grafts to get her particular shade of strawberry blond.

  “Sure.” He folds up his Vex set and slides it into the protective case that hangs from his belt. He gives Andrea his most flirtatious grin, the one that produces his dimple.

  It had been easy for Gun to attract Andrea’s attention at a Vex party a few weeks ago. The only thing she likes more than champagne is horses. Gun made himself an expert on horses. It had taken fourteen minutes and forty-eight seconds to get him a first date.

  Andrea’s father, Steve Thompson, is one of the richest miners in the world. He owns eighty-six percent of the world’s steel mines, not to mention majority shares in the world’s aluminum and magnesium mines. Andrea is one of four daughters. As the youngest and dumbest of them, she made the best point of entry into the family.

  Andrea leads him off the wraparound porch of the guesthouse where he stays. There are over a dozen guest homes on her father’s horse ranch. The quaint cottages dot a rolling green landscape cut into a neat checkerboard by white pasture fences. Horses graze in the pastures. It’s an idyllic scene, certainly not the worst place in the world to conduct a mission.

  “Daddy bought a case of Domaine Leroy Musigny Grand Cru at auction,” Andrea says. “It’s my favorite.”

  She leads him into the shade of a large oak tree where a table has been set up with a white tablecloth. Past the tree is a large pasture, home to the Thompson thoroughbreds.

  Nate hacked the Thompson water bills and found out they contracted with a desalinization plant to keep their ranch green. The amount of water they use on grass would be enough to supply two, if not three, large refugee camps. It’s as appalling as watching Andrea dilute a twenty-thousand-dollar bottle of champagne with orange juice.

  Buffing champagne glasses and mixing mimosas under the tree is Thompson’s assistant, Greg Hardon. Gun’s mark. Hardon is infamous for his stout loyalty to Thompson. He doesn’t know he’s going to become an Anderson informant.

  Gun smiles as Hardon hands him a champagne glass. He’s careful not to make more than cursory eye contact; too much attention, and the man will notice. Andrea yammers in his ear about her horses, talking about a new breeding program.

  “We only raise natural foals,” she tells Gun. “We don’t modify the embryos like the other breeders.”

  “You respect the horses’ natural state,” Gun replies.

  “Exactly.” She beams at him, taking another champagne glass. He wonders how many she’s had. The girl can drink like a Russian businessman.

  They continue to admire the horses and sip their mimosas. Well, Gun sips. Andrea pounds them like they’re the elixir of life. To her, maybe they are.

  Gun compliments her on the beauty of the horse ranch. “The plants are so different from the ones we have on our estate in Arizona,” he says. “What kind of tree is this?” He gestures to the oak. “Do the horses eat it?” He indicates the many oak trees dotting the pastureland, managing to ask the stupid question with a completely straight face. He’s worked meticulously over the years to cultivate the idiotic playboy image.

  “Oh, no,” Andrea gushes, laughing. “Horses don’t eat trees. Hardon can tell you all about the trees. He’s a trained botanist.”

  “Is he?” Gun’s fake, surprised smile comes easily to him. Nate uncovered this little gem about Hardon after nearly forty-six hours of hacking and surfing in Vex. “These trees are magnificent. What do you call them?”

  Hardon tries to conceal his excitement with a clearing of his throat and a tug on his bow tie, but it’s impossible to miss the brightening of his eyes. “You like plants, Mr. Anderson?”

  “William,” Gun corrects. “Yes, I do. I had a tutor that specialized in desert plants. My mother has a saguaro cactus collection on our estate.”

  Hardon’s eyes widen. “Really? How many?”

  “Several hundred.”

  “Most of the saguaro land was destroyed by refugee camps. They were cut down for food and water.”

  Gun nods, expression sober. “My mother sent out a team of people to secure them before they were all destroyed.” Nate had written several excellent articles about this fictional event, which had been backdated in Vex.

  Hardon nods in approval. “A wise decision—”

  “Daddy had Hardon start a tree nursery on the ranch,” Andrea cuts in, picking up another mimosa. “Hardon raises oak trees. We’re repopulating some of the deforested land we bought for the horses.” She shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Come on, let’s go. I’ve been dying to show you the Arabian pasture.”

  Arm in arm, they stroll off, leaving Hardon to buff glasses. Gun doesn’t have to look back to know he’s left an impression on the man—planted a tiny, minuscule seed. With the right nurturing, it will grow.

  • • •

  “Hardon has been reading articles on your mother’s saguaro collection,” Nate reports when Gun strides through the study two days later.

  Gun, who’s spent two long days flirting and romancing Andrea, tosses his jacket onto the back of a chair. He’s restless from all the pretending and lying. The only redeeming moments were mealtime; her father’s chefs are as impressive as his wine collection.

  “Tomorrow I’d like you to expand the informational section on my mother’s private gardens, maybe write some articles on her fishhook barrel cactus and ocotillo,” Gun says. “Oh, and can you find some rare plant dealers?”

  Nate quirks an eyebrow. “Planning to surprise Hardon with a gift?”

  “Yeah. Something like that.” Gun kicks off his shoes, heading to his bedroom. “I need to spar.”

  Nate cheerfully tosses aside his tablet and Vex set aside before rising. “Meet you in the training room.”

  Gun has just finished changing into his sparring clothes—loose, comfortable pants and a simple T-shirt—when his tablet beeps. It’s not the normal ping alerting him to an incoming message, but the insistent beep-beep-beep reserved for urgent messages. Only a few contacts have access to his urgent call line.

  He drops his shoes and picks up the tablet. Mage’s seamed face fills the screen.

  “Got a lead on your girl that you’ll find interesting,” he says. The amusement in his voice is unmistakable.

  Gun’s attention locks on the other man. “Report.”

  “Our little miss has just acquired herself some Black Tech.”

  This surprises Gun. In all his digging, he hadn’t uncovered any information that led him to believe Sulan was the sort of girl who’d mess with Black Tech. “What kind?” he asks.

  “A Cloak.” Mage’s amusement bubbles over. “She’s going into the Cube.” He laughs out loud. “Our little miss fancies herself a merc. It’s Meat Grinder day. She’s her mother’s daughter after all.”

  Gun senses the opportunity with the acuity of a hunting hound. This is it. His chance to plant himself in Sulan’s life.

  Anticipation tingles at the base of his spine. He pauses for a heartbeat, surprised by the feeling. It’s been years since any of his father’s assignments gave him a pleasant feeling. Resignation, yes. Dread, yes. Even distaste on occasion, but not anticipation.

  Gun shakes off the moment, ignoring the feeling. Emotions, no matter what they are, are irrelevant.

  “I want both of you to enter the Meat Grinder competition,” Gun s
ays to Mage. “I’ll meet you at the Cube.”

  Without another word, he disconnects. He taps the tablet, calling Nate.

  “Change of plans,” he says to his friend.

  “What’s up, bro?”

  “I need my avatar equipped with an Infinity Mirror. The best one we have. It has to stand up to the scrutiny of the Global hackers. Give it an external facade that looks Naked. We’re going to infiltrate the Cube.”

  • • •

  Fifteen minutes later, Guns strides through the entryway of the Cube in one of his most expensive avatars. It took Nate and two other programmers six months to build the Infinity Mirror defense system. It has enough layers and security to fool hackers, even good ones. When he makes contact with Sulan, Claudine—or anyone else at Global—won’t know it’s him.

  Nate pulled together an external facade that doesn’t look too different from the real-world Gun. He’s bleached the skin and altered the facial features enough to disguise him, but Gun’s overall size and stature are the same.

  When he enters the Cube, he’s sized up by everyone in the immediate vicinity. He ignores them, scanning for Sulan. He spots the Dread Twins in line to the Meat Grinder. They look like themselves for the most part, having only traded their real-world gray dreadlocks for blond ones and smoothed out their wrinkles. They ogle him like everyone else, though he doesn’t miss the amused glimmer in their eyes.

  It takes him several minutes to find Sulan. She’s so tiny, she’s nearly swallowed up by the surrounding avatars. But, yes, there she is, registering for the Meat Grinder. When she heads for the waiting area outside the Meat Grinder, Gun sees everything on her earnest, anxious expression. The puzzle pieces at last fit together.

  This is what she wants: to fight, to belong to this world. Her talents may lie in math, but all that’s ever elicited from her is restless acceptance. When she looks out at the avatars around her, he sees a girl who wants to belong. He sees Morning Star’s daughter.

  It’s clear from the way she moves that she doesn’t have any fighting experience. The twins were right in their assumption that she’s been kept out of the merc world. From the look on her face, Gun can tell she isn’t leaving.

  He makes a snap decision. He’s going to help her gain membership into the Cube.

  No wonder she never bothered with any of the boys at VHS. All this time, she’s been dreaming about mercs. If the girl likes fighters, that’s what he’ll be for her, just like he’s a horse fanatic for Andrea. The only difference is that he truly likes fighting. It’s one of the few things that brings him numbing bliss.

  She’s going into the Meat Grinder, he types onto a watch he wears, which sends the message to Nate in the real-world. Make sure my number is drawn with hers when the competitions begin.

  With that, he heads to the registration line, where he learns all candidates must provide an alias. He rubs at his clean-shaven head, his wordless act of defiance against his father.

  Baldy, he thinks. My alias will be Baldy.

  • • •

  Several hours later, when he returns to the real-world, Nate says, “Did you catch her?”

  Gun nods. “She’s my Cube teammate.”

  Nate guffaws. “That’s new. I can’t imagine any of the other girls joining a merc site.”

  “She’s a fierce little thing,” Gun replies. She’d need training, but he was looking forward to that. He loved training. Sulan was the first of his assignments who shared the interest.

  “Global bots were all over you the few times you made contact with her,” Nate says. “Just the spy bots this time. None of the hackers. That’ll probably change the next time you meet with her.”

  “Make sure you’re ready for them. We’re meeting tomorrow night for our first training session.”

  “I can handle the Global cybermercs,” Nate says, tapping away on his tablet. “Once I’m done reinforcing your avatar, I’m going to make you some training Axcents.”

  Gun pauses. “Why don’t you take some time for yourself tonight? It’s been a while since you went and did something for fun.”

  Nate’s fingers pause for the barest second over the tablet. He doesn’t look up. “Making new Axcents is fun for me,” he replies.

  “Why don’t you take Alissa out? My treat. You can even take my car.”

  Nate shrugs, still not looking up. “Alissa and I are taking a break. Hey, who do you like better, Wonder Woman or Green Lantern?”

  “Wonder Woman,” Gun replies without thinking. “I always wanted indestructible bracelets.”

  “Me too, bro.”

  “Nate.”

  “There was another League attack while you were in the Cube.” Again, his friend doesn’t look up. “I sent the report to your tablet.”

  Gun sighs and drops the subject.

  Mostly, Nate pretends the divorce didn’t happen, immersing himself in his work. Gun wishes he could do something for his friend, but short of ordering him to go out and have fun—which would defeat the purpose—he’s at a loss.

  6

  Percentages

  It turns out the League blew up a wastewater plant outside Detroit. Gun watches the video footage, which features Global mercs fighting the flames and rescuing civilians from the burning plant. The Global Arms logo is plastered all over the screen. The sight makes Gun clench his jaw.

  “Nice coincidence for Global,” Nate remarks, watching the footage on his tablet. “They’re getting some good press.”

  Coincidence? Gun raises his eyebrows but doesn’t respond. He believes in careful planning and cunning execution, yes, but not coincidence.

  “What percentage of League attacks feature support by Global mercs?” he asks.

  Nate flips through his tablet, running calculations. “Twelve percent.”

  “What percentage feature Anderson Arms mercs?”

  Nate frowns. He doesn’t bother referencing his tablet. “Zero.”

  “How many among the other mercenary corps?”

  “Viral Corp has three percent.”

  Twelve percent isn’t a big number—not enough to draw attention—but League attacks garner Global four times more visibility than their closest competitor.

  “Do you think it’s by design?” Nate asks.

  Gun purses his lips. “How could it be, unless Global is allied with the League? Reginald Winn isn’t above taking risks, but if he was ever exposed as being allied with the League, it would decimate his company. He’s not an idiot.” As much as Gun wishes otherwise, the man is anything but an idiot. “He’s gutsy, though. A risk-taker.”

  “Is aligning with the League more risky or more idiotic?” Nate asks.

  Pacing up and down his study, Gun contemplates this. The true question is how Reginald would view an alliance with the League. The man is ballsy enough to make the play, but not without putting in safety measures to ensure he’s never caught.

  Gun pauses to run his fingers along his collection of old books and comics. He got Nate hooked on the old stories. Very few people appreciate books and stories from the Pre-‘Fault days, but Gun likes to imagine what it would have been like to live in a different time. Even in the darker comics, where cities are plagued by epic villains, the lives of the average citizen is so much better than what most people have today.

  “There have been three League attacks in Global’s patrol sector.” Nate doesn’t raise his eyes from the tablet, fingers sliding and tapping. “They wouldn’t target their own areas.”

  Gun drops his hand, turning away from his books. “It would be the perfect camouflage,” he replies. “No one would suspect Global of treason if they target their own territory.”

  “I guess so.” Nate raises an eyebrow. “You really think Global could be allied with the League?”

  Gun grunts and shakes his head. “Global is either lucky, or they have some other means of predicting where the League will attack.”

  “Maybe they have predictive analysts.”

  Gun conside
rs this. “Maybe.” He stops pacing, pivoting to face his friend. “I want to follow this rabbit hole. It feels like a hunch.” Gun doesn’t like admitting to having learned anything from his father, but if it’s one thing Anderson has drilled into him, it’s to trust his instincts.

  “Okay, bro. I’m in.” Nate grins. “Let’s expose the Winns as traitors. Where do you want to start?”

  “Remember those Lice you built for Vex?”

  “The ones you used to spy on that girl’s mom?”

  “Lynn McCarthy,” Gun says. “Her mom specialized in pleasure sites. Dad needed dirt on some of her clients. I gave the Lice to Lynn’s avatar. They spread to her mom, then to her clients.”

  “We got a lot of good intel from that.” Nate straightens. “Do you want to plant Lice on Sulan?”

  “It’s a good way to get intel on Global. They won’t make it past the Global firewalls, but they’ll proliferate anytime she isn’t in VHS.”

  “Don’t you think we should focus our efforts on the scientists and employees?” Nate asks with a frown. “If the Winns are traitors, they aren’t going to trust that secret to a bunch of teenagers.”

  “Scientists and other employees are the obvious place to look,” Gun replies. “I don’t think Reginald will leave an obvious trail for something like this. I have the Dread Twins monitoring Global in any case. I want you to focus your efforts on the VHS kids.”

  “You’re the boss, bro. Give me a few hours. I’ll having something ready.”

  • • •

  Later that evening, Gun flops onto his bed and pulls out his Vex set. Using a remote, he dims the lights; he hates the glare of bright lights when he emerges from Vex.

  He goes first to a meeting with the Dread Twins. They both appear in their almost-Naked avatars, grinning like idiots.

  “We already competed against two other teams in the Cube,” Mage tells him.

  “One was a non-munitions course,” Lox adds. “We could only fight with swords and knives. Our competitors wore steel armor.” He chuckles. “The idiots could hardly move. Mage kicked one off a rampart when he wasn’t looking. His armor was so heavy he just tipped over the side.”