by Jaxon Reed
Security remained tight. Merchants historically provided their own protection, without relying on the local police to keep their products safe.
Diamond districts had a long and colorful history dating back to Belgian efforts in the 19th century on Old Earth. Providing one’s own protection had a long a storied and tradition, too, that continued into the modern era.
Gars Erikson walked out of a heavily secured building carrying a black briefcase secured by a cable snaking up through the sleeves of his suit coat and attached to a belt around his waist.
The belt, the cable and Erikson’s entire suit were all made of a modern material known as Kelvingarb, the closest thing to blaster proof wearable cloth in existence. The material was incredibly expensive, and thus did not see widespread use.
Kelvingarb was not perfect, and would buckle under multiple blasts. It was best at deflecting nicks and near-misses. Also, Erikson’s head and hands were fully exposed. So, he was not completely safe in a shootout. But, theoretically at least, he could survive a direct hit or two. And that made the expensive Kelvingarb suit worth it.
To further help his chances of surviving an assault, he walked down the street with four guard bots. They towered in height above him. Two went ahead while two more followed.
These were the newest models available for civilian use. They were based on the X99 platform with tall heads, vertical rectangles with rounded edges jutting up from the shoulders. No faces, just blank spaces hiding sensors.
These particular models were designed to withstand multiple hits. The X99 could also perform remarkable feats like shooting down cruise missiles in flight, or nailing an enemy soldier from half a kilometer away.
To perform such feats, the bots needed access to a blaster, and the programming to use it. However, civilian models were not designed for destruction, they were meant solely for protection. So the programming for shooting guns and committing other destructive acts were simply left out of their operating systems.
Since they were designed to protect, not kill, they were approved for civilian sale and use. Erikson bought the first models available. He recently spent a total of about a million credits for the four bots walking with him down the street.
Hovering 325 meters above, Stormy pointed him out to the men in her back seat.
Since the car was currently invisible, they could see right through the floor although they could not see where her finger was pointing.
“That’s the one we want to take.”
“The one with the four bots? Are you kidding?” Marx said. “He’s the most heavily protected guy on the street!”
“The more protection they have, the more valuable their haul. That’s the giveaway. You don’t spend that much on security without having something worth guarding. He’s the one we’ll go for.”
She swooped down, looking for a place to land.
28
“There is no good place to land,” Edge said, looking down and around at the Diamond District below them. From the invisible car, he could clearly see everywhere.
“There’s a parking garage over there,” Marx said, pointing, although no one could see his finger.
“It’s no good,” Stormy said. “By the time we set down all the way over there and try to intercept the mark, he’ll be gone. I’m going down in the street.”
“You’re what?” Edge said.
“Goggles on.”
Stormy felt up on her forehead and pulled down the black goggles. Then she grasped the steering wheel and pushed it forward, tilting the invisible car down. The street rushed up toward them.
She picked out an empty spot clear of vendor stalls and pedestrians, and the car settled down on its stands.
“Remember, as soon as you get out you’ll be visible. Everybody got their big guns?”
Grunts of assent came from the back seat.
Stormy said, “Edge, find that missile launcher you brought. I think we’re going to need it.”
She popped the top and stepped out.
To anyone looking in the right direction at that moment, a black-clad woman seemed to appear out of nowhere. She turned and pulled out a heavy rifle from thin air.
Behind her, two men also materialized. One of them shouldered a missile launcher.
The woman aimed her gun at the two bots tromping down the middle of the street several meters away, Gars Erikson trailing behind them.
ThuppaThuppaThuppaThuppaThuppa!
Screams broke out as pedestrians scattered. A hail of heavy bolts slammed into the front two bots. One partial blast hit Erikson’s collarbone and he went down.
To their credit, the two bots behind him instantly recognized the threat. With no guns, and their protective programming in full play, they jumped on top of Erikson.
ThuppaThuppaThuppa!
Marx joined in the stream with his own weapon. For fun, he started picking off bystanders who had yet to reach cover.
ThuppaThuppaThuppaThuppa!
An older man went down and a young married couple.
“Concentrate on the mark!” Stormy said.
But by this time, one of the bots in front joined the other two on top of Erikson, who was now squeezed heavily by all the metal covering him. But he could still breathe. He remained alive.
Stormy sent bolt after bolt to the pile of bots, but they did not relent.
The one on top bumped with each bolt slamming into it. Its arms and one leg were now rendered inoperable from the firepower, but it helped shield its owner just by being there.
The last bot made a split second decision. It realized a fourth on the pile would do little to stop the onslaught. Therefore, it decided a better approach to resolve the threat to its owner would be to charge toward the source of fire.
It ran toward the three people shooting in the street.
Stormy and Marx redirected their fire.
ThuppaThuppaThuppaThuppa!
It slowed under the onslaught, but kept going, bolts flashing all around its midsection.
ThuppaThuppaThuppa!
Stormy said, “Fire that missile! Now!”
Edge nodded and squeezed the trigger.
The portable missile launcher on his shoulder was based on the old bazooka design, but it had modern ballistics, modern fuel, and modern explosives.
The tiny missile zipped out of the muzzle and slammed into the bot’s chest several meters away.
FABOOM!
Bits and pieces of metal floated down in the air.
For a moment, stunned silence filled the street.
Stormy called out to Erikson, still under his protective pile of bots.
“The next one is aimed at you, unless you give up that case!”
They watched as movement jostled the three on top. Erikson unlocked the cable to his case.
He handed it to one of the bots and spoke to it. The bot grabbed the case, got off the pile and walked toward the three in the street, its steps clanking as it approached.
It reached out, handing the case over to Stormy.
She smiled, her red lips curling up under the black goggles. She and the other two turned and entered the invisible car, disappearing from sight.
-+-
Gina and the others returned to the Phantom’s hideaway for lunch. The holo was still on. It had an artificial reporter breathlessly discussing the latest heist.
“I am receiving word that the Black Goggle Gang is suspected in a daring daylight mugging in the Diamond District. PLAIR is not allowing any video to be shared at this time while police are investigating . . .”
While Boggs and Collier discussed it, Wilcox excused herself and tapped into the droid’s eyes and ears over the neural net.
The droid was onsite, along with several other personnel from AOJ. She stood within earshot of the victim, who was being interviewed by an agent.
“Your name?”
“Gars Erikson.”
“And describe what happened, in your own words.”
“Well, these three just appeared on the street. I mean, I wasn’t paying close attention, but they came out of nowhere with guns and missiles. My bots jumped on me to protect me but one of them decided to charge the gunmen and they took him out with some kind of high-powered missile.
“They demanded my case, so I handed it over. Then they literally disappeared again. Just like that.”
While the agent thanked him and asked Gars not to talk with reporters until the investigation concluded, Wilcox sifted through AOJ footage to find the restricted recordings.
She made a motion with her hand and cut the broadcast feed, shifting the holo over to her implant’s stream. She watched the heist take place along with Boggs and Collier.
“How did they do that?” Collier said, watching the three disappear from the street.
“Camo unit,” Wilcox said. “I saw it in the war, they had personal ones. The Resistance got ahold of a unit and used it effectively.”
She left a lot unsaid in that statement. Tetrarch Thrall’s oldest daughter, Julia, was one of the best agents the Resistance had. Wilcox felt honored to work beside her when they infiltrated Sporades before the Diego Fleet arrived.
Julia, codenamed Angel, made good use of her personal camo unit, taking out several targets over time. They literally never saw her coming.
Toward the end of the war the Resistance sent most of Thespar’s best technology to Lute, where the pirates also put it to good use. They were able to expand the camo units and bring an entire zodiac ship undetected into orbit around Epsilon at the end of the war.
“So, they’ve got one on their car,” Boggs said. “That explains why they could always lose the cops. I bet when no one was looking, they activated it and disappeared. Explains a lot.”
“You said there’s a reflection field on top of us right now,” Collier said. “Is that the same thing?”
“It’s a little different. It shows a false representation to anyone watching from above. Think of it as a security camera showing a recording instead of live events. A camo unit is designed to render the operator invisible. These jerks are using both, a reflection field here and camo units for their cars, evidently.
“The reflection field covers this whole section of the city, which was smart because anyone noticing it would have a hard time figuring out what they’re trying to hide. If they had the field over just one building, we could home in on their location much more easily. When the field is over 60 or 70 buildings, it’s harder to figure out which one is theirs.”
Boggs said, “So, they’ve got invisibility and camouflage.”
“And heavy weapons,” Collier pointed out. “They’ve got big guns and missile launchers that can take down police station doors and the latest guard bots.”
Wilcox nodded and said, “And it looks like they’re using framers, too, if it’s the same people. They can change their appearance with those, and look like Cole or Severs during mass shootings. I mean, if they’ve got this level of League tech, they’ve got other stuff as well.”
She turned to the holo and switched it back to the news. Everyone watched in silence for a moment.
Boggs said, “What are we dealing with here, Sarge?”
“I think we’re dealing with League terror cells,” Wilcox said. “I think this is Thrall’s way of striking back after that peace treaty he signed.”
29
“We’ve identified four buildings with nodes on their rooftops,” Wilcox said.
She sat in a call between herself and Director Fonteneaux back at AOJ HQ.
“It’s all very subtle. There’s not a whole lot of traffic flowing in and out of this area. So, if a vehicle flies in or drives in, it will continue showing the vehicle to someone watching from above. But new activity down here is not shown. I’ve watched the comsat feeds, which are available to businesses for a fee.”
Fonteneaux said, “Did you pay for that on your own dime?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We can reimburse you, I’m sure.”
“It doesn’t matter. Anyway, if I did not know I was looking at a reflection field, I’d never notice it. It’s that subtle. You literally can’t distinguish what is real and what is just imagery while watching from above.”
“So, what kind of advantage does that give the Black Goggle Gang, presuming they’re behind the field?”
“They can walk outside without worrying about being picked up by satellite. They can fly in and park on a roof, without their car being followed.”
“They use invisibility on their vehicles. That’s how they got away from the police. Only, they tipped their cards in the Diamond District. We are on to that little secret now.”
“That brings up another set of questions, Boss. Why? Why did they reveal to the world their vehicle’s camo unit?”
“I can think of two reasons. One, they are desperate for money, and they needed it fast. Gars Erikson was a target of opportunity and they did not want to let him get away.”
She paused, thinking.
Wilcox said, “And the other reason?”
“The other reason may be they just don’t care anymore. They’re planning on something big, and it won’t matter if we know their secrets after what’s coming.”
“That doesn’t sound good.”
“I agree. I need you to zoom in on the right building. If you’re right, and that gang is hiding out in one of them, we need to find them right away.”
“I know. It’s frustrating after taking out that Phantom guy so quickly. I wish they were all so easy.”
“Keep after it. Most of police work is drudgery, you know this, Detective.”
“I know. I’ll find them and we’ll take care of them. How’s my double doing?”
“She’s a bitch. She’s giving everybody a hard time. Now she’s going over recent cases led by Applegate and Montoya and scrutinizing every detail. I think one or both of them might quit if I don’t step in and tell her to back off.”
Wilcox smiled and said, “Maybe she’ll piss off the right people and they’ll try to take her out.”
“That’s the idea,” Fonteneaux said. “And it’s one of the reasons I haven’t reined her in just yet.”
-+-
Droids do not eat. They have an internal power core that takes care of all their energy needs.
Future ideas for food, discussed amongst the tight-knit community of droid designers, included harvesting sucrose for energy needs. But such highbrow concepts were at least a generation or two from reality.
But the current generation, designed to more closely imitate humans, could in fact eat or drink at least in small quantities. This material, masticated and swallowed by the droids, would then be passed through to a toilet at the earliest convenience.
In order to maintain appearances, the droid filling in for the role of Gina Wilcox went out to eat every day.
At noon she left her office and took a pod down to the lobby. Walking out to the street, she turned right and headed two blocks to a sandwich shop called Marcy’s. There she ordered one of four varieties of sandwich each day: tuna, sardines, pimento, or sliced turkey. The selection rotated randomly.
The sandwiches were always accompanied by a small bag of potato chips, and topped off with an iced coffee.
She sat outside, where Marcy had arranged four tables and chairs, always choosing the far table nestled against the building’s outer wall. The location also had the benefit of being out of the line of fire for other customers, both inside and outside.
The droid had asked Marcy to reserve this table for her every day, offering an additional tip for the consideration.
Marcy agreed. If she had not agreed, the droid would have insisted, and was prepared to show her badge and claim she needed the table for AOJ purposes. But Marcy was amenable to receiving a guaranteed tip every day, Monday through Friday, just by reserving this lady her favorite spot.
The irony of a real person serving a droid was lost on both of them. Marcy did not
realize it, and Gina’s double was not programmed to think about it.
Today, after a morning of finding discrepancies in Montoya’s paperwork and berating her about it, the droid walked out of HQ at precisely 12:02, as usual.
She turned right and headed for Marcy’s Sandwich Shoppe and Delicatessen, also as usual.
-+-
William Conrad “Wilco” Williams sat in his car and watched the tall, athletic blonde woman walk by on the sidewalk.
Like most people, Wilco had a wide variety of ethnicities. His dominant ancestry was British, but he also held strong Brazilian and Portuguese ties. He was from a split family, with an uncle and cousins living in the League. One of his cousins, in fact, flew on the SLS Polaris during the war.
He stood a respectable five foot ten, or 178 centimeters, with light brown skin along with dark brown hair and eyes.
Wilco was 19, and an up and comer in the Burgomeisters, one of the large organized crime outfits in Octavia.
The Meisters, as they preferred to be called after some unfortunate reporter made the mistake of nicknaming them the “Burger Masters,” an appellation leading to his untimely demise, were not known for rubbing out police. Or Republican agents or anybody else connected to law enforcement.
In fact, Griff Goodman, the nominal head of the Meisters, made it a point to turn down any contract on a cop. This was common knowledge in the underworld, and in law enforcement circles as well. For the Meisters, police were off limits. Let some other outfit take on the police, like the Order of Aristarchus.
The Order was well known for accepting contracts on anyone by those willing to pay. That included law enforcement, provided the supplicant offered enough credits for the added risk.
Consequently, the Order of Aristarchus remained on all the Republic’s watch lists, and some in the League’s as well. The Marshal Service also kept a sharp eye out for the Order’s assassins.
But the Meisters generally stuck to racketeering and extortion, with their thumbs in several other pies such as prostitution and gambling. They did not take on contracts for killing cops.
