by Jo Carey
"The techs at Lab Omega Six, with no small amount of help from the Cube, reassembled the control computer for the transfer device destroyed in the explosion. Guess what? I went in there and had a look around. Boy, what a mess."
Narnn blanched. To Gloria, a computer system, no matter how secure, was just a place to go and play. He looked in her synthetic eyes and knew that his bluff was disintegrating. Narnn held on to a tiny flicker of hope he could survive this ordeal. He closed his eyes in an attempt to calm his racing heart.
"NARNN! Focus," she said as she slapped her hands on his chair arms, cracking them. He looked down and saw the wood splinter as she squeezed them. He imagined what she could do to living flesh.
"Sorry," was the only response he could muster.
"I was able to pull something useful out of that mess," she said as she picked up a stuffed notebook. "You know what this is? It's the last auto log entry, the one that ends with the explosion. According to the data, a calibration run had started on an empty chair. For some reason, the power level was abruptly jacked-up to full. Diagnostics show one of the filters went unstable. At that exact moment, something arrived in the chamber, something unidentifiable."
"I, I can explain..."
"SHUT UP!" she screamed. She looked at the ceiling for a moment.
Narnn looked around and thought he saw guards position themselves around the room. He heard the hum of power modules activating. He realized that his death was standing inches away from him.
"Forgive me," she said before continuing. "The log then records something interesting. There was a transient signal lock followed by a partial transfer, as if something passed through the beam. It wasn't in the beam long enough for a complete transfer, but long enough for a piece of anima to be ripped out of someone and deposited, incomplete, in the chamber along with whatever was in there."
"I have no..."
She looked at him, her eyes glowing red. He knew that several of her bodies had ocular lasers. He shut-up.
"But, like the Fruit of the Month Club, this gift keeps on giving. Seconds before the explosion, the chamber was removed from the device. According to Security, you never showed up for the donation. The donor and his guards never entered the room, so John was the only one in the room when the shit hit the fan. When rescue arrived, he was on the floor, almost dead, so who took the chamber?"
Narnn remained silent.
"What was inside HS3?"
Narnn said nothing.
"In Captain Mansura's deposition, he states you told him that HS3 was controlled by a sapient anima. Where did it come from? It couldn't be from a donor for no one had been in the chair within the required four-hour survival window for an out-of-body anima. You couldn't have used the device after it was destroyed, so what was inside HS3?"
Before he could answer or utter a word, several men in tailored suits walked in and surrounded Narnn while another walked up to the lead interviewer and handed him a sheaf of papers, which he read through quickly, though thoroughly.
"I don't believe this," he said as he looked up at the well-tailored man and grimaced.
"Believe it. These papers are signed by League Council on behalf of the Tralaskan Government. This interview is over, and Dr. Falta is to be released into our custody."
"No plarking way!" Gloria said as she advanced on Narnn only to find a blaster pointed at her.
"Ma'am, don't," the man holding the gun said, his aim unwavering.
"Gloria! Stand down!" Countess Laya, the Tyen, said as her eyes flared. "I'll find out about this soon enough."
"Until then, Countess, Dr. Falta is ours," the first man said as he walked over, took Narnn's hand, and led him out of the room with his compatriots following close behind.
"Can they do that?" Gloria growled.
"Yes, they can do that," Laya said as she looked over the paperwork "It's completely legal. The Torsans refused to press charges, so Narnn Falta is free and we can't do anything about it. He's probably on his way to Tralaska and his family compound where he can't be touched."
"We have to do something?"
"How is John doing?" the Tyen asked, changing the subject to something a little less volatile.
"He's on the mend. The pills are helping, a lot. He's back at work, doing what he does best," Gloria said.
"Then concentrate on that. He needs you now more than ever. He'll heal, and he needs your help to do so."
Gloria looked at her and realized she was right. Karma or the Universe will take care of Narnn Falta. John was her project now, one that she couldn't risk failing.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Several weeks after leaving the hospital and returning to work, John was called into the Director's office. No explanation given, just a day and time contained in an email. John added it to his calendar and went back to work while not telling Gloria, knowing she would do nothing but worry. Having survived an explosion that leveled his lab, John found worry to be something not worth a precious second of his time.
On the day of his appointment, John was in his lab, elbow-deep in the torso of a rather large robotic form scheduled for testing by the Space Marines. Last minute tests showed a fault in one of its transtator circuits which prevented signals sent by the operator from reaching two of the form's sensor suites making them non-functional, all well and good if the operator didn't mind running around blind and deaf. John was sure it had to do with a recurring manufacturing problem they'd been having with a subcontractor.
Just as he was about to extract one of the offending circuit boards, the computer announced his meeting with the director was in ten-minutes.
"Blast and damn,” he said, borrowing one of Gloria's favorite curses. The computer replied by repeating the announcement. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving," he said as he grabbed his jacket and a towel and walked out the door, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walked.
John walked down a glass-walled corridor that linked the office section of Omega Lab Six with the laboratory annex. He looked out the window and saw the raw beauty of the Mojave Desert which stretched out for miles. A roadrunner darting from a copse of cactus with a small lizard in its beak startled him while a jackrabbit watched from underneath a creosote bush. In his years at the lab he had grown fond of the desolate beauty of the arid landscape, something he had not expected those first days he worked here.
He reached the end of the corridor and found himself in a different world. While the lab annex was a marvel of efficiency with bare pipes, cable trays, and stark lighting fixtures, all perfect for reconfiguration, but terrible aesthetics, the office annex was the dictionary definition of opulent. Instead of the utilitarian tile floor of the lab, carpet covered the office floor. The walls were fine wood with lighted paintings lining all the corridors. Carved wood doors led into spacious offices while a vaulted ceiling with ornate chandelier fixtures rose above him. John had a sudden vision of one of his bots running rampant through the halls while swinging a chandelier around its head like a medieval weapon.
Just inside the entrance was the receptionist desk complete with a lovely Storen woman manning it. She was tall, muscular, and otter-like, covered in short fur. She looked up and fixed her large eyes on him as she handed him a clipboard and a pen. "Dr. Taggart, right on time, welcome to the Office Annex, you can call me Nelly," she said.
"So, this is the Office Annex? I feel like I've been called to the principal's office," he said as he signed the log sheet. "Love the dress, by the way. Did it come standard with a holster or did you have to have that put in special?"
She glanced down and saw nothing. "You can see it?" she asked, worried.
"No. I can detect a hint of gun oil. It clashes ever so slightly with your wonderful scent." He reached into his jacket and fished out a small bottle of clear fluid. "Try this. It's extremely pure, very low vapor pressure, and no scent. We use it on the bots. Only use a drop or two on your weapon, and you should see a marked improvement in operation. Call the lab if you need more," he said as he
handed it to her. She took the cover off and took a small whiff.
"Thank you, I'll give it a try," she said as she put it in her purse. A small beep came from her desk. "The director will see you now," she said as she led him to a door which she opened and ushered him through.
"Director? Dr. John Taggart," she said before walking out and closing the door behind her.
"Dr. Taggart, so glad to finally meet you," the Director said as he shook John's hand.
"The feeling is mutual, Director. Am I or Gloria going to be fired?" he asked abruptly. "If so, we have a bunch of things that need to be turned off in the lab and Gloria is out today, so..."
"Don't be ridiculous. Neither of you are going to be fired. No, I brought you here to discuss changes coming to Omega Lab Six. John, let me introduce you to the Director of the Office of Security and the Interim Director of the Cube."
John shook their hands while wondering what the hell was going on. The Cube, sister lab to Omega Lab Six, was a research lab orbiting a white-dwarf star. As far as John knew, OffSec didn't have research facilities, only investigative and evidence handling.
The director sat them down in three overstuffed chairs before handing drinks to the other two and a beer to John. The Director grabbed a beer and joined them.
"John, as of noon today, Omega Lab Six no longer exists. Its functions and personnel are being transferred to OffSec."
"Why?" John asked, relieved that he wasn't being fired, but shocked at the turn of events.
"The HS3 incident was a wake-up call. That thing could have turned on us during testing and incinerated this facility and this planet. It's been decided to move all weapons research to the Cube, where things can go boom without killing ten billion people."
"I see. What about Biocybernetics? We've been in limbo since the accident. Where do we fit into all of this?" he asked.
"Biocybernetics' mission has changed. You'll now research bio-interfaced robotics for use by both military and civilian concerns. You'll design and test everything from search and rescue bots, to suits for the Orta, to military bots used for recon. The emphasis is switching from the search for self-aware 'artificial intelligences' to better remote telepresence devices, including a one-user-many-suit configuration. Since you're now with OffSec, you'll be expected to help with investigations. A lot of bots are out there being used for nefarious purposes and OffSec will need you and Gloria to figure out those devices. What do you say?"
"Have you run this past Gloria?"
"Yes," the Director replied without hesitation. He knew how much John respected Gloria, "and she's on board if you are."
"Then, I'm on board," he said as he shook hands with the other two directors. "Interim Director? What does that mean? I thought you had a Director."
"A search for a full-time director is in progress as we speak," the ID said. "The previous director is no longer with us, I'm afraid, and I was elected to keep things running until a new one is found. There is only you and Gloria, correct?"
"Yes, Dr. Falta left after the accident."
"Lab space in the Cube is being prepared as we speak," the OffSec Director said between sips of his drink. "Your lab will be disassembled and shipped to the new facilities within two weeks. We've a backlog of work waiting for you, so be prepared to hit the ground running. By the way, where's Gloria? I was hoping we could meet her."
"She's at a Cosplay convention where she's been invited to give a keynote speech on Cosplay and its effects on creativity in sentients." He looked at his chrono and said, "Would you like to see her? She's on now and its being broadcast on the League-Wide Sports Vid Channel."
"That would be wonderful," the ID said.
John walked over to the Directors terminal and brought up LWSV. The screen shimmered as the image of a very tall woman came into view. Once the screen cleared, they could see she was far from ordinary.
Gloria was pacing across the front of the stage while she gave her speech. She was wearing the elf form that reminded him of an elf he once met, except this version had a four-foot-long tail tipped with a ruby laser. She stood seven feet tall with almond-shaped green eyes and long pointed ears emerging from flaming red hair in a four-foot long braid. Her bronze-colored skin was counter-point to a scaled vest and skirt combination and on her back, was a sword that would have made a Viking proud. Black leather knee-high boots finished her ensemble. In the audience he could see fanboys, and fangirls, of various species drool, not hearing a word she said.
"That's a robotic suit?" the ID said before gulping.
"Yeah. It's something I cobbled together on my lunch hours."
"You built that?" the OffSec director whispered.
"Yep. You should see my new stuff." While the others stood there, ploonharped, he pulled up several of his hand-drawn designs from the computer. "Here, take a look."
With great effort, they pulled themselves away from the big viewer and came over to the desk. There was a collective sharp intake of breath when they saw the designs. "John, are these photos?"
"No, hand drawings. The computer will turn them into detailed designs and from those, color photorealistic renderings. These are just sketches."
The three stopped, looked back at Gloria on the screen, then back at John as if something impossible had walked into the room and handed them a beer.
Seeing the interview had finished, John said, "If there's nothing else, I need to get back to work. I look forward to my first day at the Cube. Good day." On his way out of the room, he looked back and saw them still staring at the screen. He shook his head and closed the door behind him.
On his way out of the Annex, John stopped at the Reception desk to sign out. Nelly was there waiting for him. "Did it go well, Doctor?" she asked.
"Yes, Nelly, it went very well," he said as he handed back the form. "You might want to check on them in a bit, just to make sure they're still breathing."
She looked at her chrono and said, "Gloria's talk?"
"Yeah," he said, recognizing her as part of Gloria's Cosplay group. If memory served, Nelly was fond of action heroines.
She shook her head. "Men," she said. "Have a good day, Doctor."
"You to," he said as he walked back to his lab.
CHAPTER NINE
The packing materials were gone and the final missing coffee cup was found and back in place next to the coffee maker. Now, months after the move, John was returning to the normal day-to-day routine of work, only these days he was surrounded by space and not the friendly heat and light of the desert. John looked out the only viewport in the lab and saw thousands of stars embedded in the inky blackness of space, with only the occasional spaceship to break the monotony. No more jackrabbits or rattlesnakes. No more drives down the access road for lunch at the only diner in a hundred miles. Now, the closest hint of civilization was a light-year away.
He looked around his lab, still new to him even though he had been working there for some time. The design was so much more efficient than his old lab with more flexibility, more floor space, and more bench space. Whoever designed this room knew what it was like to work in a lab short of benches and hated it as much as John did.
A chime interrupted John’s musing, reminding him of an impending appointment. "Computer, display, main screen, please," he said to the air. The computer, ever monitoring the lab environment, complied and brought up John's schedule for the day. He looked and saw he had an interview with the latest candidate for the position of Director of Operations of the Cube.
"Computer; candidate briefing; Devlin, Dr. Ciara; main screen,"
"Yes, Doctor," the computer said as it complied and the main screen filled with Dr. Devlin's dossier. John walked over to the data display table in front of the main viewer and activated the monitor.
The control console was one of the modern marvels of the Cube. The top of the table is a touch-surface monitor three feet deep by eight feet wide with a built-in holoprojector. Data could be displayed on the table itself or moved to t
he main screen and conversely. It was spill-proof and easily cleaned both characteristics important to a coffee addict like John.
John pulled documents down from the main screen and arranged them on the table as he would if they were physical objects. He skimmed over several and put them off to the side before getting into the nitty-gritty of Dr. Devlin's background. He walked over and got a mug of coffee before getting into the details.
Once settled, John started with the good Doctor's curriculum vitae. Her CV was impressive with degrees earned and papers written. "Bah, boring," he said to no one in particular as he shuffled them into the holding pile.
He looked at her Top-Secret file and saw something interesting: she was Venlanten, the source of Earth's Vampire legends.
Several thousand years ago, a colony ship of Venlanten refugees landed on Earth. Trapped on a planet of primitives, the colonists did as any other race of sentients would do, they adapted and survived.
By an odd quirk of nature, Venlantens share ninety-eight percent of their genetic code with humans, the differences manifesting as greater strength, greater longevity, retractile canines and fingernails, and nutritional needs. It was the last difference which caused all the trouble. The Venlantens require a certain nutrient only found in human blood, so for thousands of years, the Venlantens needed to feed off humans to survive, something human society frowned upon.
For the first few thousand years, things went fine. Venlantens harvested humans as needed, keeping things on the down-low. Then Bram Stoker blew the lid off the whole operation.
Today, the nutrients needed by the Venlantens are available either in synthetic form or from natural off-Earth sources. This availability, and the acceptance of extraterrestrials by humans, has allowed Venlantens to come out of the closet, so to speak.
"Now, that is interesting," he said as he continued reading. A few more pages in he came to an entry that sealed the deal for him: she collected plant-things.
