Paragon

by Rob RodenParker

  He activated his communications link. As he reported the mission status to the commander, a thought crossed his mind, have I committed murder? He tried to shake it, but it stayed lodged in his mind, as if the robot were somehow haunting him after its destruction, accusing him.

  He walked out of the research station quickly, and past the marines without a word as they filed in to take control. Curtis intercepted him as he made his way across the corridor at the back of the bridge.

  "What did that thing want?"

  Kepp paused, his expression suddenly distant.

  "Just what we all want, I suppose."

  He turned and walked off before Curtis could respond, heading for his quarters. Upon arrival, he sat down on the bed, pulling out the display pad from his coat pocket. He scrolled through the robots memory content. Most of it was code, code he didn't understand, but would no doubt become clearer when analyzed. An output log was also stored; he flicked through it. It was like reading a history of the robot’s existence, beginning from the day when the robot was activated.

  Its first output was the alphabet. No doubt something that was programmed as a test routine.

  It quickly progressed to questions such as "What's that?", and "Where am I?"

  Then it moved onto deeper subjects. Ones the scientists on the research station couldn't answer, ones which nobody could answer.

  He scrolled to the end of the log.

  The last output was the line: "Why?"

  He put the pad down and stared at the ceiling. A part of him felt amused that the destruction of a robot could have affected him so deeply, and a part of him grieved for the innocence he had put an end to.

  Chapter 2 - Charity

  "The fallout between the UEA and Alpha Cybernetics regarding the Ganymede station hostage incident a week ago continues..."

  The television blared at whomever cared to listen, which in this case was nobody.

  Desperados was a bar like many of its kind on Mars; small, distinctly low-tech and packed with all sorts of malcontents and miscreants. The air was thick with conversation, some loud and raucous; the usual drunk patrons, others hushed and secretive; the voices of those who didn't want their activities to be known. The decor was nonexistent; everything was bare metal, the silvered surfaces reflecting low powered lights through an atmosphere laced with the smoke of tobacco, and other less legal substances.

  "I'll have water," said Kepp, pulling up a stool at the counter.

  "You'll have water?" scoffed the burly patron stood next to him, before letting out a raucous laugh. "What kind of pansy-assed motherfucker are you? Coming in here and ordering water? Hey, when you've pissed yourself, let me know and I'll get one of my boys to fetch you some fresh nappies, how about that?" He turned to one of the tables near the bar, only to find several men slumped unconscious across it.

  "I guess your boys had a bit too much to drink, didn't they Jarmon?" said Kepp, taking a sip of his water.

  Jarmon turned back around, suspicion in his face. He sized up the man sat in front of him. Plain face, a mop of black hair, medium build. Didn’t seem too threatening, at least at first glance.

  "Did you do that? You little fuck."

  "That's no way to talk to a customer, is it?" replied Kepp, meeting Jarmon's stare. He reached into his coat, pulled out a folded slip of paper, and slid it across the counter to Jarmon.

  The barman decided to move away; he was vaguely aware of the sorts of deals done in this establishment and he didn't want to be involved.

  Jarmon grabbed the slip of paper, unfolding it roughly. His eyes glinted as he read the scrawled message.

  "Oh, a customer is it? Well, you tell me what you did to my boys, or you ain't getting your fix anytime soon."

  "I killed them, just like I'll kill you, unless you show me what I want."

  Jarmon felt a jolt as a gun was shoved sharply into his ribcage. He glanced around, looking for options, realizing in the end that the only option was to comply with the order.

  "Tch, come with me, but you'll pay for killing my men."

  Kepp stood, replacing gun to holster in a fluid motion. A long trench coat disguised any other armaments he may have had. Jarmon licked his lips, a little nervous, and motioned for the customer to follow him.

  They exited Desperados via the back entrance, and crossed the alleyway to enter a building directly opposite. Inside, it was a standard Martian apartment; kitchen unit on one side, sleeping unit on the other, one wall converted to a display screen. The surfaces were again bare metal, and had begun to rust in several places. In one corner there were several boxes. The air smelled of musk and sweat, indicating filters that needed replacing. Kepp turned up his nose at the smell, but was otherwise impassive.

  "So, a hundred grams of E eh?" Jarmon asked, walking over to the boxes, his back to Kepp.

  "Two bags, fifty grams each. Don't give me that low-grade MDA shit either, I want the best."

  "Heh, you know how we work. Luckily I have some top notch stock here. I don't think you'll be disappointed."

  "How much?" asked Kepp, reaching into his coat pocket.

  Jarmon turned around, gun in hand, and a smirk on his face.

  "How about everything you got? Think of it as payment for hiring replacement men, and...."

  The gun was ripped out of his hand before he knew what had happened. It flew across the apartment, clanging off the wall and onto the floor.

  Jarmon stared at his hands blankly. How had that happened? The next thing he knew, the wind was knocked out of him as he was struck in the chest. He staggered backwards and fell onto his ass.

  "Who the fuck are you?" he shouted, backing away on all fours.

  Kepp didn't reply, instead he strode up to Jarmon and began to viciously beat him. The blows came relentlessly; Jarmon tried to shield himself but it was ultimately futile. The fury of fists did not stop, finding every unprotected spot on his upper body and delivering to them punishing blows. Jarmon's head quickly went light, his vision blurred and he was on the verge of passing out when suddenly, the beating ceased.

  Another man walked in and stared at Jarmon, viewing Kepp’s handiwork. It came in the form of a split lip, a broken nose and a thoroughly battered face, as well as a man reduced to a groveling mess.

  "Fuck," Jarmon moaned, somewhat incoherently, spitting out a mouthful of blood, "what the fuck do you want? Leave me the fuck alone!"

  "I hate men like you," the other man replied, voice barely above a whisper. "I just need to know one thing. Are you working with the Angel Cartel?"

  "Who? Never heard of 'em." Jarmon spat more blood. "I'm an independent. I run my own supplies. That's the truth! Believe it or not I don’t give a shit!"

  The other man grunted, then let out a deep sigh, and pulled out a pair of cuffs. Jarmon's shoulders sagged in resignation. Game over.

  "Kepp, thanks. You didn't have to do this. You don't even work for us anymore," said Anderson. This was the fifth small-time drug dealer Kepp had caught in the last month. They stood in the apartment as security personnel removed the drugs and other items of interest. Jarmon had already been taken away and was awaiting a certain conviction.

  "Anderson." Kepp acknowledged the presence of his old boss. "I didn't do this for you." He gestured at the door through which Jarmon had been taken. "He didn't have any links with the Cartel either."

  There was a short pause.

  "Kepp, he's dead. Give it up will you?" He then sighed, "Never mind."

  "There was no body, Anderson. If there was no body, then he cannot have died."

  "Kepp, you shot the man and then threw him out of a building that was three stories high. He's dead."

  Kepp rolled his eyes. They'd had this discussion far too many times before.

  "I'm leaving."

  "It's not what Julia would have wanted for you," Anderson said at Kepp's departing back.

  Kepp slowed momentarily, half turning.

  "There's a lot of things Julia didn't want." />
  The door slammed behind Kepp's departure. A few of the personnel exchanged grimaces.

  Kepp gazed out of the shuttle, watching as Earth began to fill up ever more of his view. The sun was just visible over the curve of the planet’s surface. The oceans reflected its golden rays, and patches of cloud formations were cast into sharp relief, highlighting their random beauty. A warning message came up in one eye, projected by his implant, telling him that he needed to purge soon.

  The shuttle touched down at UEA Military Headquarters, located in the Nevada desert. Stepping out into the fast fading light, Kepp was greeted by a chilly breeze. He was glad to be back on Earth, however, as the smell of fresh air was not yet something that could be replicated in a spaceship or a colony. A hovercar was parked in front of the shuttle for his use; he stepped in.

  "Destination please," said the computer.

  "Paradigm," he replied.

  "Confirm biometrics."

  He put his neck against the scanner located on the back of the seat. The computer checked the neural impulse data emitted by his implants.

  "Verified. Proceeding. Welcome back, Special Agent Kepp."

  As the hovercar sped across the terminal plaza, Kepp took out his phone. She probably wouldn't be home right now, he thought, but he should probably leave a message else she'd get worried. He dialed but got her voicemail. "Hey," he said, adopting a cheerful tone of voice, "sorry but I'm going to be late. The boss wants to see me. I'll be home later, okay?" He ended the call.

  The entrance to the Paradigm headquarters was discreet, being but a small elevator cut into side of the main terminal complex. The actual headquarters itself was buried two hundred meters below the surface, making the elevator ride down a rather long affair. At least there's no one here to try and make idle talk, thought Kepp. He never really liked visiting the HQ, and he suspected that no other Paragons did either. The only reason they would be called there was to have a comprehensive mission debrief, or to have implants upgraded, both of which were rather painful.

  The elevator arrived. He stepped out and noticed two people waiting for him. He scanned their faces; two important people were waiting for him. The Mission Director, James Danuwa and the President of the Paradigm organization, Kikuchi Saro. They wasted no time on pleasantries, instead heading straight to the briefing room. Their footsteps echoed down the deserted marble floored corridor as they walked.

  There was enough space to seat eight people around the large circular desk. In the middle of the desk there was a 3D holographic projector, and the room also contained audio-visual links which could be used to communicate with anybody who had access to an AV terminal. Kepp had been here several times before, and knowing what was to come, he mentally braced himself as he entered.

  The door closed automatically behind them. Kepp took the seat nearest to the exit. He thought it was rather strange that the President had come to the debriefing in person. Only the most important missions warranted his presence and Kepp hadn't considered the Ganymede hostage situation particularly important.

  Maybe I've screwed up somewhere.

  "Let's get straight into this. The marines who did the station sweep after you left found an optical storage disc." said the President, "the plans for the robot were on there. Our analysts tell me the technology behind it is revolutionary, and potentially very dangerous, as you found out. The marines also detained the hostages for interviewing. They were interviewed with the aid of another Paragon. They said their lead researcher was actually here on Earth."

  Saro activated the 3D projector, showing a picture of the man. Information about him began feeding into Kepp's implants. It didn't help the pounding headache he had.

  "His name is Hiro Kanzoku. We need to talk to this guy, perhaps persuade him to come and work for us. At any rate, we need to dissuade him from probing any further into sentient robotics research."

  "So...why is this any of our business?" asked Kepp, "We've determined that Alpha Cybernetics is committing a crime. We have the OSD as proof - why not just hand it over to the justice system, sir?"

  "If only," chuckled Saro. "Alpha has got its hands in a lot of pies. They are one of the biggest corporations in human history. They have huge political and economic sway here on Earth, and they're funding the colonization project on Mars. They're so big, they're basically impervious to fines and sanctions, and you think they'll just let one of their researchers be imprisoned? Their security force alone is about half the size of the combined Earth Defense Corps. If we go up against them via the traditional route, we'd never get anywhere. You can see where I'm going with this."

  "So, you send me in," said Kepp, folding his arms across his chest. Why did you have to become the go-to Paragon for these infiltration missions? Good going Kepp, he thought.

  The Mission Director pressed a few buttons on his control panel. Hiro's face disappeared and two more faces appeared on the display. Kepp recognized them as Tenzen and Haur. Tenzen was the newest recruit into the Paragon ranks. His floating face was a mask of seriousness, however Kepp could almost feel the inexperience emanating from it. Haur on the other hand, was a rather grizzled veteran who had been a Paragon for over a decade. He sported an unkempt appearance, with a chin of stubble and weary eyes. It seemed to Kepp that he had not slept for a while.

  "Can you hear?" asked James.

  The floating heads of Kepp's compatriots bounced around in midair, nodding their confirmation.

  "Kepp, you will be leading this mission, but Haur and Tenzen here will be on your team, but they have slightly different objectives. We need more intel on this corp; we need to learn who is really in charge and we also need to learn what other projects they are working on. I can't believe that a corp that is willing to flout the sentience laws wouldn't have other nasty secrets hidden from us."

  "Why don't we have the intel on them?" asked Kepp. "They didn't exactly just spring up overnight."

  "Alpha Cybernetics used to work closely with us. For example, they designed and built the implants you're using now. But they went through a leadership change a few years back, and relations with them have grown worse since, especially as we took some of their primary implant developers and persuaded them to work for us. Unfortunately we didn't have agents in place when relations soured, and now it has become very difficult to penetrate their organization via the traditional route, but still, no excuses. We screwed up. Anyway, here's a datapad with all the relevant details. Haur and Tenzen, you should be downloading this right now."

  The two floating heads again nodded their affirmation.

  "Okay. Fine, now back to this Kanzoku person. What if he doesn't accept our offer?" Kepp asked, although he already knew the answer in his gut.

  "Kill him, but discreetly. We cannot allow Alpha Cybernetics to suspect assassination," replied Saro. "Always remember this Kepp; we're here to carry out these difficult tasks, tasks that society at large would condemn, in order so that society can live and progress peacefully. We must take care of any thorns in our side, by whatever means necessary." Kepp thought that Saro seemed unusually insistent.

  "I know, sir," he replied dutifully.

  "Now, I take my leave. James will talk you through the mission." With that, Saro was gone.

  "Right." James brought up the map of the Alpha Cybernetics research facility on the 3D display. "Haur and Tenzen, hope you are following. Let's work this through from the start..."

  Chapter 3 - Humanity

  Kepp sat in the hovertaxi as it negotiated its way through the airways of London, having shuttled over from the UEA Military HQ after the mission brief. His head throbbed insistently with pain; he would need to purge his implants as soon as he got home. He looked at his watch with tired eyes; four in the morning. Shit, he thought, Jess isn't going to be happy.

  The airway was in the chasm formed by the residential skyscrapers, rising like two huge dark cliffs on either side of the hovertaxi. On both sides of the airway, well lit oval landing bays jutted out every
so often from the sheer walls of the buildings, the soft white of their luminescence mixed with the green lighting used for the airway guide lights, forming to Kepp's tired mind multicolored streaks as the cab flew past.

  Finally, the taxi slowed and pulled into a bay. Kepp scanned his arm embedded with a credit chip across the door and it unlocked. He got out, nodding at the driver. The cab flew off, its engine whine quickly fading to nothing. Kepp stood in silence on the landing pad for a moment, rubbing his eyes. He then proceeded up the walkway, into the interior of the building. Taking a left, he arrived at his home: Apartment 1 on the 167th floor. He removed his gloves and wrapped his left hand around the door handle. "Home," he uttered quietly. The apartment computer verified his ID and then the locks whirred. He opened the door and stepped in.