"Is the physiological response an intentional act of teasing as well?"
"What physiological response?"
"The sensitivity of the olfactory receptors of my current platform has enabled me to detect a pronounced increase in pheromone levels in the past few minutes, particularly for Mr. Garotte."
"I... Well... I..." Garotte stuttered, for the first time appearing to be something less than unflappable. "I've been incarcerated for three years with no conjugal visits. I'm not made of stone."
"Am I in error in supposing that there is a mutual attraction?"
Silo cleared her throat. "You... There's something that-"
What was no doubt sure to be an artful piece of careful explanation was interrupted by a chirp of Ma's slidepad.
"Missed message," the device announced.
"We must have passed near a communication relay," Garotte said, deciding that stating the obvious was infinitely preferable to enduring the awkwardness that had suddenly arisen.
"Well, we'd better listen to the message, it is probably important," Silo nodded, equally eager for the distraction.
Ma tapped at the recording. From the device's speaker came the sound of rushing wind, followed by a clatter and clank. Then came voices, men and women barking short, stern orders to one another."
"Make sure those crates are secure!"
"Did you hear something?"
"Probably loose hydraulics. Ensure pressure containment before leaving the atmosphere."
"Return course laid in. Initiating cloaking field."
"I want FTL set to activate as soon as we are out of the atmosphere."
"Hull temperature nominal. Planetary defense forces are maintaining requested distance."
"Exterior pressure at 0.1 atmosphere's and falling. Initiating FTL in 3... 2... 1..."
Finally, the device announced, "Transmission interrupted."
Silo looked to Garotte. "What did we just listen to?"
Ma looked at the data available and swiped out a response.
"The message was sent from a slidepad left in the possession of Lex," she explained. "It originated from the planet Tessera."
"Did he pocket dial you?" Silo asked.
"Was there video?" Garotte asked.
Ma attempted to replay the message, but Garotte snatched it away, pulling up the message and jogging through the associated video. Finally he paused it, turning it to the others. A single, blurred frame showed men dressed precisely as those who had nearly killed them on Manticore.
"Did this Lex person infiltrate them?"
"Judging from the video, I would say that is unlikely, unless he learned to fly without the need of a ship," Garotte said, "However, it does mean that, at least at the time this message was sent, there was a slidepad that we've got contact with aboard a vessel piloted by our targets. Can you trace the connection? Reestablish it perhaps?"
Ma looked impatiently at him from her position on Silo's lap.
"Oh, yes. Of course," he said, returning the slidepad.
She nosed out some statements. "While we are in transit, it will not be possible. Any attempted contact is likely to notify them of the presence of the device. It would be best to wait until the ship containing the device is likely to have returned to a more permanent base, and then identify the most accurate coordinates possible and activate location tracking."
"Agreed," Garotte said with a nod. "Best not to delay our trip, but at the first stop, I want to contact Lex. Seeing as how he managed to get a slidepad aboard a terrorist ship, he deserves congratulations, and we deserve an explanation."
Chapter 20
In a waiting room inside a police station, Michella, Jon, and Lex were occupying a bench that was really only designed with two people in mind. As was the case with virtually every other structure in Rackton, the police station was needlessly lavish, equipped with potted palms, leather upholstered furniture, and other vital law enforcement equipment. There was plenty of seating, but the arresting officer had quite clearly instructed them to sit on this specific bench outside his office door and await further instruction. It wasn't the most dignified situation, but the three of them agreed not to make too much of a scene. Every desk had a large message screen blaring alerts, there were loudspeakers broadcasting desperate messages, dispatchers were madly attempting to answer calls. In short, the police had enough trouble on their hands trying to deal with the aftermath of the terrorist attack. There wasn't even anyone specifically guarding them, but two sets of electronic wrist restraints cuffing Jon to Lex and Lex to Michella meant that any escape attempt would take a fair amount of coordination, and at least one member of the crew certainly wasn't up to the task.
"So what happens now, Mr. Alexander?" Jon stammered, flop sweat rolling down his face.
"Why are you asking me?" Lex replied, tugging at a bandage that had been applied to his burn.
"Well, haven't you done this before?"
"Been arrested in Rackton for reckless driving during an act of terrorism? No, believe it or not, we are breaking new ground here."
"But you've been arrested before, right?"
"Not really. I mean, it has been tried, and back home probably the whole police force knows my face, but I never really got caught doing something worth dragging me in for. Mitch has, though."
"Miss Modane?" Jon said, looking to his boss.
"Disorderly conduct during a protest rally. Nothing scandalous," she said, tapping at her slidepad, which she had managed to convince the attending officer to let her keep. Using it while restrained involved holding it awkwardly in her cuffed hand while tapping at it with her free one.
"Oh... so what happens now?"
"Don't worry about it. You didn't do anything, and they can't coerce you into answering any questions. They'll probably bring you in for questioning, but if you just keep quiet, everything will be fine."
"What if I crack under interrogation! What if they do that good cop/bad cop thing?!"
"It isn't going to be an interrogation, Jon. But if you start getting stressed, just blame everything on me."
"So tell the truth then. That's easy enough," Jon said, nodding deliriously.
"Mister Nichols, could you step in for a moment."
"SHE DID IT!" he blurted.
Jon was uncuffed and escorted into the office. When the door was locked Lex leaned back and released a sigh.
"I hope he's a good assistant, because he makes for a pretty rotten accomplice," he quipped.
Michella nodded vaguely, her eyes plastered on the slidepad and a familiar grin on her face.
"How are the numbers?"
"Sixty million hits in the last hour, four hundred thousand comments and counting, and that's only on the live stuff. The polished up version will do twice that," she answered quickly, "Oh, baby, you did so good."
She pulled him in for a kiss and held him close, the cuffs held between them.
"We do make a hell of a team," he said.
He wrapped his recently freed arm around her and hugged her as tight as he could without dislocating the cuffed arm. Slowly the smile on his face faded, though.
"But what happens now?"
"Not you too, Trevor. The whole thing was on camera, they know we didn't have anything to do with the attack, and for the rest-"
"Not about that. I mean... Look. You and I both know you have got nowhere to go but up. And don't get me wrong, I'm happy for you, but... That means longer hours, longer trips. It is only going to get harder and harder to see each other. Don't you think it is a little nuts that it wasn't until we got handcuffed together in a police station that we even got a chance to discuss this?"
"I know things are a little busy right now, but they'll change. Once they give me more sway, move me further up in the organization, I'll have staff. I'll be able to delegate, spend more time in the office."
"Yeah, you'll be able to, but you won't. I know you, Michella. The grunt work is the reason you're a reporter. You'd never hand off any
of that. And I won't want you to."
"Then what are we discussing?"
"I... I don't know, okay? I just... I look at the future and I see big things for you, I see not a whole lot for me, and I see nothing for us."
"We'll work something out, Trev. I'll... Remember back when you were a racer and I was on your pit crew? I'll find a place for you. Like you said before, you can be my driver or... I don't know, personal security."
"And what if your bosses put the kibosh on that?"
"Then... Trev, I don't know," she said with a shake of her head. "Are you telling me you want to break up?"
"No! God no!"
"Then... Remember the night we got back together?"
"Which part? The part on the futon, or the part in the shower, or on the floor, or-"
"When I first showed up, you pig," she said with a smirk, "I asked where to go from here, and you told me that we should just have the moment. I don't know what happens next, but right now we're together. That's going to have to be enough."
Lex nodded. "It's always been enough before."
The door to the officer's office opened and Jon was led out.
"You two, in here, now," the officer ordered.
"I guess we've got bigger things to worry about now, anyway," Lex said.
He took her shackled hand in his and the pair stood, marching past the harried-looking Jon and into the office. Once inside, it became clear that either this had not been his office for long, or he was almost critically obsessed with neatness. The desk was bare, with the exception of an old-school blotter/calendar, a display screen, a datapad, and a nameplate labeling him "Lt. Oscar Franco." A shelf along the rear wall held a potted fern still bearing the card proclaiming it to be "From Sarah, XOX." The only other object on the shelf was a framed photo of a woman, presumably Sarah, who seemed to be sliding out of middle age. That made her a match for Lt. Franco himself, who had a graying mustache on his still-constipated-looking face. He had the overall attitude and sagging physique of someone who had been a policeman for a few years longer than he'd wanted to be.
"Your assistant was very helpful, Miss Modane. I hope you will be too."
"I'll help in any way that I can," she stated simply.
"And you, Mister Alexander?"
"I'm probably not going to be very helpful."
Franco's expression hardened slightly. "We'll begin with some questions."
"Did you confiscate our camera?" Michella asked.
"Yes. Now-"
"Did you review the footage?"
"Yes. What did-"
"Did you see any indication that-"
"Miss Modane!" the officer barked, "Perhaps I didn't make myself clear. When I said that we would begin with some questions, I meant that I would be asking you questions. But if you want to skip right to the footage, fine, we'll do that. Based on the contents of the camera, we have evidence of you engaging in at least seven different acts of reckless driving. You endangered the lives of dozens of citizens, not to mention multiple officers of the law, and then you violated a joint police and military cordon, violating the terms of a demand made by individuals actively holding a populated area hostage with a WMD, thus potentially triggering events that could have taken thousands, if not tens of thousands more lives. And throughout that time you were causing a dangerous distraction to police and emergency crews who were attempting to respond to a disaster."
"That camera also contains high resolution footage of the individuals responsible for the attack that I guarantee is an order of magnitude better than anything you would have been able to get otherwise."
"That's irrelevant."
"And exactly how much of the damage to public property did we cause, compared to what the police in pursuit caused."
"You are still liable!" he growled, standing up and leaning on the table.
"And how do you excuse the use of excessive force when attempting to intercept our vehicle?" she continued, assuming the same position.
"That was entirely within our right considering the threat you represented."
"Do I even need to be here for this?" Lex asked.
Michella continued as though he hadn't spoken. "And what about your failure to make even a cursory attempt to save our lives when it appeared that we were experiencing an equipment failure!?"
"The safety measures of the vehicle-" the officer attempted
"And what about-"
"MISS MODANE! My city is in a state of chaos. I should be on the street helping to sort it out, but instead I am in here arguing with you. I don't care if you were on a different planet when the disaster happened, the simple fact that it is your fault that I am still in this office is enough reason for me to lock you up until this time tomorrow. For every minute of my time that you waste, I am tacking on another two days, and if you think for one moment that I lack the power to do that, then you have got a lot to learn about how Rackton has managed to stay so crime-free. Now, if I hear even one more word from you that is not the answer to a question, the next sound you hear will be the slamming of a cell door, understood!?"
The reporter and the officer were nearly nose to nose, giving the woman an up close and personal look at the bulging vein on Franco's forehead. The two maintained the intense staring match, and for nearly ten seconds Michella managed to keep quiet. Then she said not one word, but two.
Eleven minutes later the trio was in a holding cell.
#
"What the hell happened?" Jon exclaimed in exasperation, pacing back and forth like a trapped rat. "Before you guys went in there he thanked me for my cooperation and said I'd probably be out in a few hours!"
"Yeah, it appears we may have found Michella's kryptonite," Lex said as he settled back on a cot. "Come to think of it, I think that's how it went down at the protest, too."
"That Lt. Franco was being unreasonable," Michella countered, jumping to her feet and pacing along with Jon.
"Unreasonable?! He was accusing you of crimes you actually DID!" Jon protested.
"But we were doing something crucially important."
"Law books don't write 'unless you have a really good reason' at the bottom of the page!"
"Jon?" said Lex. "Since your lifestyle has prevented you from ever having a girlfriend, let me explain something to you. They are right, always."
"Thank you, Trev." Michella said without an ounce of humor. "I'll tell you one thing. Once this Neo-Luddite business is over I am definitely doing an expose on the Rackton police."
"Speaking of the Neo-Luddite thing... What do we know about these people?" Lex asked.
"It was mostly in the report I did at the scene of the attack," Michella said.
"I was a little distracted."
"I'll be doing an in-depth piece in a few weeks. I just need to do a bit more digging, particularly after all of this."
"But what do we know right now? Presumably they are eventually going to let us out of here, and assuming Ma got my message, she'll probably call, and I'd like to be able to get as much info to her as possible. Anything to help her hunt the scientist down so that something like this doesn't happen again."
"Okay... But I want you to do me a favor."
"What?"
"I want to talk to him."
"Who?"
"The scientist. Or should I say Karter?"
"No. No, no, no. How did you even learn his name?"
"You slipped a few times. I've spoken to dangerous men before. You don't think I can handle him?"
"You saw what happened today! I don't think the army could handle him."
"If my research helps free him, I think he at least owes me a few minutes of his time."
"Michella, I can't even guarantee he'd be willing to talk to you."
"That's fine. I just want you to be my contact," she said, leaning close and adding in a whisper, "Just like you did with the Bypass Gemini incident, only this time, no blind spot. I'll handle the rest."
"... Now that you know his name, eve
n if I say no, you're going to go looking for him, aren't you," Lex said flatly.
"I've already been looking for him. His name will just make it easier."
"Fine. I'll let him know."
"Thanks, babe," she said, plopping down on the cot next to him and giving him a peck on the cheek. "Now, where to start? … Well, they get their name from a fellow named Ned Ludd, who may or may not have existed. There's a story about him breaking a textile machine during the industrial revolution, and that eventually led to a whole labor movement. People afraid of being replaced by machines went and destroyed them. They called themselves Luddites."
"So these people just want to wreck technology?"
"No. That's where it got confusing. See, as far as we can tell, the Neo-Luddites love technology. Not just any technology, though. It has to be new. The newest of the new. Stuff that isn't even out yet. Why they'd want to wreck stuff was a mystery until Jon finally managed to turn up a recording from a few years ago taking credit for a minor security breach in an out-of-the-way research post. Dollars to donuts we get another one of those later today."
"What did it say?"
"It had some screwed up logic, but more or less, it said that if we want to keep getting better technology, we have to destroy the technology we already have, so we need the new stuff."
"And they've been at it for years?"
"At least two years. Probably a lot longer. Nothing really big until about six months ago."
"If they've been going on this long, why didn't we know about them? Why is it so hard for you to find out stuff?"
"The military has been covering things up."
"Which military?"
"All of them?"
"Why?"
"Because the Neo-Luddites are pretty much all former soldiers. Would you want word getting out that not only were your secrets getting stolen, but they were being stolen and used by a group of terrorists within your own ranks?"
"Okay, that makes sense. Well how big is this group?"
"Big. In the thousands, if not more."
"How could so many soldiers get the same screwed up ideas?"
"I've got to assume there is some recruitment and such going on. I had Jon working on the psychology. Did you turn up anything?"
Unstable Prototypes Page 29
