Connor Rix Chronicles 1: Rules of Force

by Steve Statham

  "So there's no other way to do this without initiating so much violence?"

  Big Fella and KC sat quietly, allowing Rix to persuade her.

  "We need to get his attention, enough so that he'll travel back to Texas," Rix said. "We want him to take our actions as a personal affront."

  Marie said nothing.

  "Cunha is an extraordinarily brutal man," Rix said. "Violence appears to be his first option. If we don't find a way to deal with him, a lot more people are going to die as he spreads his network. And anyway, this is the job we all signed up for. That big payday still has to be earned."

  Marie sighed. "I know. I just don't like being the one to pick a fight, especially against shadowy organizations like this. I've been on the other end of that, during the war."

  Big Fella set his beer down on the table. "Marie, darlin', I'd say the fight's done been picked already."

  "I guess so," she said, eyes cast downward.

  They talked long into the night, eventually retiring to sleep after midnight, Marie first, followed by Rix. Rix had laid out sheets and blankets for Big Fella and also KC, although it was entirely likely she would not sleep. There was ample space in the various rooms above the garage for the two to sort out their own arrangements. Rix made no assumptions. She had been trying to hide it, but Rix had seen KC sneaking glances at Big Fella throughout the evening. But she had been that way ever since she had met him right before the Breakup, when the officers had endured the trauma of choosing sides before the shooting started.

  Rix was amused by it. He had never seen KC act so, well, demure was the word that came to his mind. She normally just reached out and grabbed what she wanted, at least when it came to men.

  The next morning when Rix came out to the kitchen he found the two talking intently on the well-worn leather sofa, but he could not tell if it was personal or business. He could detect no indication that anything had changed between the two.

  ****

  An hour and a half later, Rix and Big Fella opened the doors and slid into the front seats of Big's van.

  Rix leaned out the window so KC and Marie could hear him. "We're going to head over there and scout out the lay of the land. And then have a little talk with Carlos. We'll be back soon."

  They had all reviewed the plan after breakfast until everyone was satisfied that it probably wouldn't be a complete catastrophe.

  Marie waved as they drove off and turned back to help KC assemble the assorted gear they would need for the operation. KC was studiously going through the special weapons Rix had brought back from Open Sky's headquarters after his meeting with Rohm.

  "Look at this," KC said, holding up what looked like a stubby shotgun. "Have you ever seen one of these? It's a net gun. Shoots a compact cartridge that bursts into strong strands that wrap around whatever it hits. Damned handy weapon."

  She reached into another of the boxes. "Here, run and try this on. I want to see how well this stealth fabric works."

  Marie held up the loose bundle of fabric, running it through her fingers. "I can think of several times in my life when this would have come in handy," she said. "Although it's definitely no cocktail dress, is it?"

  KC chuckled. "Ideal for slipping out of a lousy blind date, though."

  Marie took the garment upstairs to the bedroom she shared with Rix. She changed into tighter-fitting clothes — better for the weather today anyway, she told herself — and then pulled up the stealth leggings and slipped the loose hoodie smock over her head. She noticed immediately how light the fabric felt, as if she were not wearing two layers of clothing at all.

  She walked past a mirror and halted, startled. The fabric shimmered with her motion, and then settled when she stood still. She watched in the mirror as the fabric slowly resolved. It was a rough approximation, easily disturbed by rapid movement, but the front of the garment was unmistakably working to conceal her by generating an image of the wall and furnishings behind her. She slowly moved, watching the fluid motion of the stealth fabric as it kept up with her movement.

  I didn't even know this technology existed! It must be worth a fortune!

  She felt her stomach fall away with sudden pangs of fear, and quickly sat down on the bed. She dropped her head in her hands.

  Oh, God. How did I get mixed up in this?

  The despair overwhelmed Marie again, the sense of feeling small, of once again being the content little assistant manager at the upscale home furnishings store, selling overpriced linens and mid 20th Century-influenced furnishings, navigating a life with a horizon that barely extended beyond next Friday's margaritas on the Riverwalk.

  There were still days when she desperately missed that simple life. To be able to just wake up, prepare for work, put in a shift at the store and spend the evening at leisure — it seemed like a fantasy life, the kind of thing you'd see in a movie, or read about in a novel. But it had been her life.

  If only things could be that way again…

  But no, of course not. That period ended during the Breakup War, when San Antonio had been briefly overrun. The skirmish line had consumed the street where her family lived, and the ASA forces had treated every civilian as a combatant.

  She could still see it in her mind's eye, still see her father as he lay gasping for breath, blood foaming at his lips, crimson liquid pooling on the floor. She could still hear the cries from her mother as her brother Marco was dragged out of the house by the ASA soldiers, never to be heard from again. She could still feel the wall at her back as she cowered in a corner, petrified with fear, unable to stop any of the men who had invaded their home.

  No. There was no going back. There would never be such an uncomplicated life for her ever again. She now had two goals in life; building her strength and capabilities so she would never find herself so helpless again, and tracking down what happened to Marco. Rix had helped guide her down the first path, and she loved him for it. She was much stronger for it. The good days now outnumbered the bad.

  But she still had much to learn.

  She wiped her eyes and stood, forcing herself back into the moment.

  There was plenty she could learn from this team Rix had put together. KC in particular. Marie had not spent much time around KC, and had not met many women like her. She definitely possessed striking good looks, although you wouldn't call her conventionally pretty. But she carried herself with a certain confidence that was especially evident in her interaction with the men. Marie assumed this was mostly due to sharing a military background, although perhaps it was more the experience of running her various businesses, where she was used to being the boss. And, of course, it was hard to clearly read how someone's personality might be influenced by her various Modifications.

  People get used to physical power pretty quickly, just like all the new rich people get used to the money pretty fast, she mused. Well, I need to get used to it too.

  Before heading back downstairs she slipped on her shoulder holster and slid her compact .380 into place. Comic book superpowers and science-fiction stealth fabrics were fine and all, but the feel of that solid, reliable chunk of metal was still a comfort to her.

  Marie pulled the hood over her head, quietly opened the door and slipped onto the metal stairs, and then glided down to the shadowy corner platform where the staircase turned back for its final drop to the garage floor.

  KC still had her head down in a box sifting through the Open Sky materials.

  "Hey," Marie whispered.

  KC looked up, cocked her head, and then glanced around the shop, trying to pinpoint the sound. After a few heartbeats she zeroed in on Marie.

  She broke into a smile. "Not bad! Won't work long against a determined searcher, or someone with high-end optics, but that thing could buy you a crucial few seconds. I'll have to talk to Open Sky and see if they'll let me retail them," she said with a chuckle.

  ****

  Rix and Big Fella, after scouting the surrounding neighborhood several times, pulled into the pa
rking lot of the gym. It looked a lot more run-down now that Jake wasn't here to manage things, Rix noticed. The Empire Gym sign was faded and in need of paint. Only a few vehicles were scattered across the parking lot on this mid-morning weekday.

  The metal handle wobbled in Rix's hands as he opened the door. The floor was sporadically lit, with several overhead lights burned out. The smell of sweating bodies had already overcome the ventilations system's modest capacity.

  The room quieted as the gym regulars noticed Big Fella enter, nearly seven feet tall and larger by far than anyone in the building. Big Fella slowly looked around the room, then yawned.

  Rix glanced around too, but did not recognize any of the people working out. The group he used to see there when Jake first opened the place was probably long gone.

  A man they assumed to be Carlos looked up and weaved his way around the weight stations toward them. He was wearing a shiny tracksuit and the latest Gip Chow athletic shoes. His hair was carefully slicked back, the better to display his diamond earrings. The latest E-Thing headset, the one that was popular with teenagers, lay loosely around his neck.

  "Hi dudes!" Carlos called out. "Here for a membership? I'm offering a special for six-month commitments…." His voice trailed off as he slowly realized who Rix and Big Fella were.

  "Oh, wait. Jake said two dudes like ya'll might show up. You know, Jake doesn't really have the final word around here anymore…" his voice trailed off.

  Big Fella, towering over Rix's shoulder, raised an eyebrow.

  "No, he doesn't, Carlos," Rix said, fixing a stare on the man. "I do."

  Carlos flushed with anger, but backed away a couple steps and began wringing his hands together. "Man, I bought a piece of this place from Jake. Ain't nobody gonna walk right in and tell me…"

  "Shut up."

  "Wha… man, this is not cool I oughta call a cop I don't believe this…"

  "Shut. Up. Here's how it's going to be. We'll let you keep your piece of the gym — the piece you bought by giving Jake that shitty old car that croaked after three months — and you're going to do something for us."

  Carlos backed away another step. His eyes darted around the gym nervously. "Why the hell would I do that?"

  "Because that way there won't be any trouble. For you. But there's also an upside if you can manage to do this little task without pissing your pants at a crucial moment."

  His face darkened. "Yeah?"

  "You do what we request and you can buy out Jake completely — at fair market value, of course. How's that sound, Carlos? Be a big-time entrepreneur, own the gym free and clear in your own name. I can see it now: Big Time Carlos' Bad Ass Gym. You'll need a bigger sign, of course."

  He looked at Rix, eyes wide, and chewed lightly at his lip. "Jake never wanted to sell out before…"

  "Jake has reconsidered. He's decided that the gymnasium industry is not as healthy an occupation as he thought."

  "So what do I gotta do?"

  "Let's go back in your office and discuss this."

  Carlos by now had a sweaty sheen across his forehead, but he nodded and led Rix and Big Fella to his office in the rear of the building. They entered, and Rix walked around the cheap desk that dominated the room and sat in the chair behind it. He propped his feet up on top of the papers scattered across the desk.

  Carlos, irritated, sat in a folding chair in the corner. Big Fella stood by the door, arms crossed.

  Rix casually picked through the papers on the desk, and then looked up at Carlos. "We know you've been running B2s and blood boost packs and adrenal juice on the side here, God knows what else, pocketing some cash out the back door."

  "Jake did too!"

  "Yes, lots of people are doing that these days. We're not here to shut you down."

  Carlos seemed to lose some of his nervousness. His fidgeting limbs almost reached a state of stillness. Almost.

  "What do you want?"

  "We want to meet your South American suppliers."

  Carlos crossed and uncrossed his legs. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea," he said at last.

  "Sure it is!" Rix said with a laugh. He spread his arms theatrically. "It will be great business for everyone. Tell them we want to place the biggest order for ModWare that's ever been placed in New SA. Enough stuff to rig this town from top to bottom."

  "Why would they believe that?"

  "Well, this, for starters," Rix said, glancing up at Big Fella. At that, Big Fella reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat, chrome case, tubular in shape, hinged along one side. He opened it, revealing a long row of one-ounce gold coins. They glistened, even under the feeble office lighting.

  Carlos jumped out of his chair, and reached his arm half-way to the coins before drawing back.

  "What's that for?"

  "It's good faith money for the South Americans, so they know I'm not blowing smoke up their asses. Tell them it's a down payment on my first shipment. Can you do that without soilin' yourself? Because they need to understand that I'm a legitimate buyer. Your part is to make sure they get that message."

  Rix blinked his optics into message mode. He sent a number to the gym's web message page, using an untraceable path from the Open Sky network.

  "I've sent my contact protocol to the gym's e-house. Give it to the South Americans. Of course, they might want you to act as a middleman. Who knows?"

  Rix pulled one of the gold Texas Pronghorn coins out of the case. "This is for you," he said, placing it on the desk. "Now, I have very good bookkeepers. So do the South Americans, no doubt. I'm sure I won't have to worry about this gold not making it to its destination, will I?"

  "No… sir," Carlos said softly, eyes fixed on the solitary coin on his desk.

  "Excellent! You see Carlos? Opportunity was knocking for you today, and you were smart enough to open the door."

  14

  Rix knew before he even opened his eyes that something was wrong. He was normally the type of sleeper who liked to linger a bit in the shadowland between dreams and wakefulness, but he felt himself being ripped from sleep by a burning pain in his shoulders, and along the length of his legs.

  He rolled out of bed and immediately stumbled to his knees. He fell onto his side on the floor and lay still, hands curled into fists, sweat beading on his forehead.

  Fear welled up inside him. Not now! Not today…

  Marie rolled from her spot on the far side of the bed and looked over the side of the mattress. Her eyes were wide behind her dark tangled hair.

  "Connor! What's the matter?"

  He said nothing for several moments, his body clenched against the ferocious pain.

  "Something…. Something inside…" He convulsed, and then emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor.

  Marie leaped out of bed and ran across the room. She flung open the door and shouted across the room. "Big! KC! Something's wrong with Connor!"

  Rix was still conscious but unmoving when the others rushed into the room. With his peripheral vision, he could see them crowded over him. He could hear their terse conversation, but did not focus on it. The shock of the sudden awakening was wearing off, and he turned his attention inward, trying to analyze the war taking place within his body.

  As another spasm rocked him, Rix recognized the familiar aching in his frame that had intermittently plagued him since the last of the bone density treatments.

  It should be lessening by now, not increasing, he told himself through the pain, but he also knew with a sudden finality that the planned course of events was not conforming with reality.

  The minutes rolled past, smothering him in a blanket of pain. His friends were still talking to him, which he could hear, but their voices drifted through from a distance, as if he were dozing inside a tent in the woods, and they were outside conversing by the fire.

  A memory shambled to the forefront of his consciousness. He was lying on a reticulated table. It was the first day of the bone density regimen, the worst by far, as he would l
ater come to find out. He had just undergone the initial transfusion, and they were about to immerse him in the tank, the last step before the endless injections.

  Agent Brock had come personally to inspect the process. He had had final say on all personnel decisions with regard to experimental Modifications. He had not been a fan of Rix, almost as if he could perceive ahead of time how events would eventually play out, and to his detriment. But objectively, Rix had been the best candidate for the process.

  "Well, Rix, you're really going to be something special — if you survive." He had spoken the last under his breath, as if either option was fine with him.

  At last the pain lessened its grip slightly, grudgingly, and his consciousness surfaced fully into the awaiting world. He opened his eyes, his view at ground level. He stared for a moment at the shoes under the bed, which were directly in his line of sight.

  Rix marshaled what little strength he had and rolled over on his back. He looked at each of the worried faces surrounding him.

  "So," he whispered softly. "Who cooked dinner last night? I'm thinkin' that chicken needed longer in the oven," he said in a shaky voice.

  Rix saw the body language of relief sweep through the group. Marie reached out her hand and felt his forehead, in the instinctive way human beings check each other for fever. She leaned down and put her head on his chest. "Oh, Connor. Let's not do that anymore, OK?"

  ****

  After Marie pulled away, Big Fella scooped up Rix from the floor as easily as if Rix were a child and placed him back on the bed. Rix wasn't sure, but he thought he could hear the faint whir of Big's exoskeleton at work.

  "Hell, dude, this is a lousy time to fall apart, one day after shooting up a big ol' flare to attract the attention of the meanest mobster in South America." He said it with a half smile, but Rix could detect the tremor in his voice. "I'm assuming this little episode has something to do with you finger-painting with your DNA. I had no idea you were so shabbily rigged."