Foreign Devil (Unreal Universe Book 1)

by Lee Bond

  “Yeah, but why him? Plenty of Conglomerates in this system would love to have more control over access to Trinity-grade merchandise and dollars. After all, there’s zero trade beyond the brain drain. I could’ve been nabbed by Sa John Blow of Blow Enterprises.”

  Turuin gestured for Garth to look at his protean screen. “Beyond the political and financial reasons for Terrance’s motives, the explosives built into your proteus are favored by high-ranking agents directly in his employ. Since I know for a fact Chairwoman Doans hasn’t yet authorized your death or sanctioned the revelation of secrets, there really is only one person who could be involved.”

  “You going to want this proteus?”

  “Sa, if I took that proteus from you, I could very definitely dispose of it in a way that wouldn’t attract any attention. However, once the data packet it’s programmed to send doesn’t go where it’s supposed to, someone would be dispatched to … ah … collect you in no time.” Turuin smiled tightly. “No… you’re stuck with it. Sorry.”

  “This thing isn’t transmitting real-time?”

  Turuin shook his head. “For various reasons, very little observation these days is done real-time, especially right now. The Game, the gameheads, all the netLINKs, are using four hundred percent the normal bandwidth. We’re teetering on the edge of collapse already. We’ll have to install hundreds of new relay stations just to keep everything running smoothly come Game-time.”

  “Why in the hell am I here?”

  “Since you were effectively coerced into putting that thing on, I’m willing to offer you a partial out. It’s a one-time deal and expires the moment you make your decision. There will be no recanting. It’s now or never.”

  Against better judgment, Garth found himself Turuin implicitly. His curiosity was going to be the death of him. “Sounds fair, I suppose.”

  “There … is a person who can manipulate the monitoring programs on your proteus so that any transmitted data remains innocuous. I don’t pretend to understand the specifics of it because Lady Ha is the best programmer this system has ever seen. Suffice it to say that even if you went into the OverSecretary’s offices and shot him dead, the people monitoring your packets would think you went to the local grocery store buying fruit. With the right incentive, she can also render the detonator-program inoperative. There is even the possibility of liberating more functionality.”

  “Incentive.” Garth shook his head. People were the same everywhere.

  “Lady Ha is not an operative, sa. She is an independent citizen who does things for me from time to time. In exchange for her highly valuable services, I don’t arrest her for breaking every single cyber-law we have on the books. She’s a hacker, sa, and is the best. The most I’ve ever asked of her is the occasional illicit wiretap or audio spoof. Helping you could bring her into the line of fire. OverSec Terrance is not a nice man, Garth, and will do whatever it takes to keep his intrigues secret.” Turuin gave Garth a moment to absorb all of that before speaking. “There’s one more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “I … I … will need some compensation before I contact her.” Turuin shrugged at the flash of irritation on Garth’s face. “It’s the way it is, Garth. Marin and Ham-Za aren’t agents; they were providing me with a safe location. By invoking an executive order, I effectively ruined any further chance to work from here. In all likelihood, I’ll have to disappear. I can’t contact the Chairwoman at the moment, least of all because the OverSec is planning to move against her. My discretionary funds are tapped out and I’ve already been here for two months longer than I should’ve been. An external source forced me to remain.”

  “How much is it going to cost?” Garth asked, continuing to play the part of the irritated, misunderstood Offworld foreign devil being forced into things he had no patience for.

  “Hundred thousand each.”

  Garth had to fight from losing his cool right there. Two hundred thousand credits was a drop in the Croesian bucket. He’d have gone into the millions to get rid of an explosive strapped to his wrist, more to unlock a military proteus. Fussing unhappily, Garth made the transfer. “How can I be sure you’re going to give her the money?”

  “She’s been listening the whole time.” Turuin nodded as he transferred Lady Ha’s money.

  “I thought this room is netLINK dead?”

  “It is, but again, Lady Ha is a master. She’s running a second netLINK on top of the one already in use, and my proteus happens to be configured for it.”

  “Sounds like she’s more of a danger than anyone else you’re ever going to meet.”

  Turuin tried to picture Lady Ha doing anything more risky than going to a late night movie with friends and laughed. “Sa Garth, if you knew Lady Ha, you’d know that there isn’t a single person I trust more. She’s absolutely pacifistic in every area of her life except the Game.” He motioned for Garth to leave the room.

  “How soon can this happen?” Garth asked, walking towards the door, Turuin behind him.

  “Tonight or tomorrow morning you will get an ad for something like a massage parlor or relaxation facility. Just go at the appointed time. Lady Ha will take care of the rest.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.” For the first time since their discussion, Garth was being genuine. Turuin had helped him immeasurably. It kind of sucked that all he was going to get in return was a completely destabilized country, but the blame rest squarely on OverSec Terrance’s broad shoulders.

  “I’ll continue my surveillance on the OverSecretary’s plans. The incident I was assigned to prevent in this area never materialized. With your money, I can move on. As long as I don’t see you cropping up in my investigations, I’ll be repaid plenty.” Turuin opened the door. “When we walk out of here, just thank me for all my help.”

  “What about the address for the main system?”

  Turuin couldn’t resist a smile. “When you get your proteus unlocked, the first thing you need to do is learn how to keep info secure. It’s on its way to the storage facility you’re subletting from the cabbie. All right, ready?”

  Garth bade farewells to the friendly, slightly foppish Turuin-persona. Inwardly, he was fuming. He had no control. Everyone had more control than he did. The only thing currently going his way was the chance that this Lady Ha woman was on the up-and-up. Until he got his bugged proteus fixed, there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do except sit around and stare at the walls.

  It was going to be one hell of a long, boring night.

  Killing Cavemen for Fun and Profit

  Jordan Bishop stared contemplatively at his ‘living’ Zen garden, watching the sands shift like a thing alive. A holoscreen sat off to one side displaying a small civil war raging on streets miles below the furthest point that even the most hardened man in Zanzibar would willingly visit if they knew what was down there. The main surge of opposing forces had passed some time ago, with survivors on both sides now being more cautious. No doubt, the appearance of high-caliber rifles and other weapons normally beyond the reach of bottom-feeders was the cause behind the abrupt tactical shift. Sporadic bursts of powerful gunfire added momentarily lurid splashes of color onto the sand garden.

  Spur swept silently into the room and stood patiently off to one side. Lord Bishop often displayed his intense hatred of the android by forcing Spur to stand for hours on end before recognizing his presence. Spur hoped this was not one of those times. There was always much to do, and limited to his own body, he had little patience for childish games that took him away from his tasks.

  “What have you found for me, Spur?” Jordan asked calmly, one eye on the holoscreen and the other on the garden.

  Spur bowed deeply. “Sire, your caveman has been found.”

  “This has taken a singularly long time to accomplish, robot. Would you care to tell me how, with your vaunted prowess, one man could manage to avoid detection for more than an hour?”

  “Regardless of my previous ability to obtain files pertaining
to Garth Nickels, governmental records are notoriously difficult to acquire without tipping our hand. The path you wish us to take is not one that will endear us to Trinity, if indeed the caveman is capable of marrying other disparate sciences into workable technologies. During the course of my investigations, it was revealed that Tynedale/Fujihara carries a negative dollar sign attached with the affair, and is eager to contact the Nickels man for further reparations. It seems that prior to official induction into Special Services, Nickels managed to obliterate an entire arm of Tynedale/Fujihara’s very own Vendetta Bureau and they want to get their own back.” Spur commented on his inability to perform quickly without shame. “According to data I eventually managed to maneuver, the man has been listed as deceased and MIA from Special Services duty. The two very different sets of documents created a fairly difficult tangle to uncross.”

  “And yet his bank accounts continue to swell with coin from my coffers.” Jordan replied dryly, watching a long burst of projectile fire tear through an old tenement building with superlative ease. If the rest of the civilians were able to use the rifles with such effective skill after only a small amount of exposure, they were going to market inside a month. With home protection at an all-time high, people suffering from pre-Dark Age jitters were a perfect target audience for the powerful weapon. Until dominance over planetary protection was regained, any source of income was a good source of income, no matter how degrading.

  “Indeed.” Spur inclined his head, agreeing with his master. He, too, was interested in the small drama of human tragedy unfolding on the screen. It never ceased to amaze Spur that none of the humans down below paused to consider the possibility that their existence, supposedly off-grid and out of sight, was nevertheless continually guided by their betters. “After considerable effort and the application of bribery, I have been able to determine that neither is the case. Thankfully, there are always men within Trinityspace eager to sell that which they think is valuable.”

  “It is ever the way of man to sell his soul, Spur. Didn’t your precious creator tell you this?”

  “Mankind is the soul of avarice, my lord.” Spur agreed blackly. “Always wanting.”

  “I assume,” Jordan made note of a particularly devastating explosion not of his design wreaking horrific damage on his little band of troublemakers, “that someone sold you something of interest?”

  “Yes, my lord. A man matching your caveman’s appearance was seen purchasing a starship as well as Q-Tunnel access.”

  “You say he didn’t abandon his post?” Jordan shook his head. “No,” he murmured, “of course not, else Trinity wouldn’t be paying him. The AI may be mercurial in many ways, but it wouldn’t reward cowardice, it would hunt him down.” Jordan smiled appreciatively at a foot soldier and her foolish bravado; the world beneath the bright shining world of Zanzibar hardly bore any resemblance to 325th century lifestyle. It was a cruel, barbarous world where people lived hard and died quickly. It was a miracle that anyone would find the courage to be brave in such a cesspool of filth.

  “Where, then, has he gotten himself?”

  “Tracking a vessel through the netLINK of Quantum Tunnels is difficult in the extreme, my lord. There are distressing lapses in proper paperwork the further one goes from the central systems, and the human operators of some of the smaller Q-Tunnels have been known to make … agreements … with Trinity-weary travelers.”

  Jordan snapped his fingers rapidly. “Which we ourselves take advantage of frequently. Spur. Please. If you seek encouragement or congratulations on completing a difficult task, seek it elsewhere. If you are falling prey to that particular brand of AI hubris that demands a monologuish account of how you arrived at whatever knowledge you possess, I do not care to hear it. You are a machine, I am a man. My flesh dies with each passing moment while you will persist like the most dogged virus. Spare me the tedium.”

  “Yes my lord, as you command.” Spur bowed deeply.

  “Regardless of your ingrained feelings of being owned by NorthAMC businessmen down the centuries, your EuroJay sensibilities and protocols should have yielded a better method of dealing with me and mine by now. You are, after all, adaptable? I seem to recall reading a manual on your operation, touting your skills at discovering new and better methods of survival?”

  “I am sorry, my lord, but the protocol standards I follow are deeply programmed. I cannot change them without violating both Turing Regulations and Trinity commands, an act which would surely bring Enforcers to your door and Regulators in through the LINKs. As you well know, my lord.”

  Jordan clenched perfect teeth. “On with it, android. And please, dispense with extraneous courtesies.”

  “Garth Nickels has been located on the planet Hospitalis in the Latelian system. He has just recently begun investigation into Conglomeration, no doubt to shelter his enormous earnings.”

  “What on earth is he doing there?” Jordan briefly wondered if, by some extraordinary fluke, Garth Nickels had learned of BishopCo’s dealings with the Latelian government and was that very minute seeking to cost him yet another preciously unique asset. Who knew what information one could come across working in the black hole that was Special Services?

  “It appears as though he has entered their Game as an Offworld competitor.”

  Jordan accepted the answer. Though the Latelian Game wasn’t widely known, word of it did reach the ears of people of a specific type. Garth, with his violent background in Special Services, fell soundly into that category. “This reminds me: how are our recent acquisitions fitting in with the real world?”

  Spur paused for a moment, accessing the necessary files. “This most recent batch of Latelian programmers are acclimatizing themselves to the larger world-view with the same rapidity as the others, my lord. As always, they show remarkable skills in their work with AI personalities and other complex software. Harder, though, is socialization. They are forming the predetermined cliques; one, three, and six respectively.”

  “I never cease to be amazed at their prowess.” Jordan admitted. “When I first heard all of their work with 3-dimensional programming was theoretical, I was inclined to believe otherwise. After visiting Hospitalis for myself and witnessing firsthand their government’s rabid dislike of AI, I am eternally surprised. They are so adept at discovering newer and safer ways to encroach on the boundaries of Turing-restricted intelligence without incurring the wrath of the Regulators or Trinity Itself that they may one day give birth to an intelligence that surpasses even you.”

  “Trinity surpasses me without even trying.” Spur reminded Jordan blithely.

  “Trinity,” Jordan spat the word, “is a machine intellect of a different color, as It continually reminds us. Perhaps the people who fled the nascent Trinity’s control so long ago had the right idea all along. But, you have succeeded in distracting me again, Spur. What are your plans to rid the Universe of this caveman?”

  Spur downloaded the specific files into a nearby computer for Jordan to look over even though the man rarely, if at all, deigned to double-check the android’s work. “Once I located Garth Nickels, I used our contact within the Latelian government to acquire the personnel roster for the Offworld contestants. Knowing as I do the sort of person attracted to this competition, I reasoned correctly that one or more of them might meet our criteria for dispensing with Garth Nickels. One name leaped out at me immediately, sire.”

  “On with it.”

  “Injiri Katainn, sire, is an upper echelon member of the systemic mafia Yellow Dog. The Katainn family has been charter members of Yellow Dog since its inception six hundred thirty years ago. One of Injiri-san’s particular talents is assassination.” Spur threw up an image of the wiry one-eyed EuroJapanese assassin for Jordan to consider. “Although he doesn’t possess similar military training and exposure that Garth Nickels has, Injiri Katainn has been trained from birth by the best in the art of assassination. He is responsible for a number of high-profile deaths in the last fifteen years.�
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  “I am concerned about the caveman’s physical speed and prowess, Spur.” Jordan tapped a few commands into his arm console. The data he requested pushed Injiri’s glowering face out of the way. On the screen was the most interesting –and disconcerting- piece of footage he’d seen. “This armored vehicle is a BishopCo Carrier, mark 2. Depending on the various accoutrements of war this particular model can be outfitted with, it weighs anywhere from one hundred to two hundred fifty tons. As you can see from this clip, Garth Nickels is lifting it quite easily. Special Services very own hierarchy labels him as ‘Heavy Elite’, making him one of the deadliest men outside of the Enforcers. What assurances can you give me that Injiri Katainn is able to deal with this level of threat?”

  “Prior to entering the Latelian system for the Game, Injiri-san spent more than four months at a Black Clinic operated by the Medellos Medical Cartel, sire. Records concerning the type of augmentations he received during his stay there are unobtainable, irrespective of compensation.”

  And with good reason. Jordan knew Andros Medellos on a personal level. The man was an utter genius when it came to human physiognomy, biology, and structure. His medical procedures, equipment, and practices were used on virtually every planet in Trinityspace, and he was arguably wealthier than Jordan himself; the man’s true passion, though, was circumventing Trinity law on approved mechanical, cybernetic, or genetic enhancements. For drastic sums of money, a person could visit one of Andros’ ‘clinics’ –huge medical facilities cunningly hidden in a few different places- and have their bodies remade to whatever specifications they saw fit. Because he was willing to violate strictly enforced regulations, Andros was inordinately careful whom he ‘treated’. After notable clients were discharged, the facility was oftentimes moved, sometimes as far as an entire solar system. A man like Injiri Katainn would only go to Medellos for specific sets of augmentations or enhancements.