“Very good. We’ll begin arrangements for your surgery and modifications. But first, we’ve set aside some personal quarters for you. Follow me.”
Together, they walked down the corridor, leaving the Heilig room behind them. As they walked, Ward noticed something odd and rather unexpected. He hadn’t been brave when he told Emile he felt capable of carrying on. Despite the usual effects of the hibernation – the disorientation, the general fatigue – combined with the recent changes in location, gravity, and everything else, he was feeling quite chipper. It was a feeling he hadn’t experienced in some time, and he thought to ask about it. “Doctor Chandrasekhar? Can I ask you something?”
“Certainly, Mr. Ward. Anything.”
“I’ve been noticing a certain change since I woke up.”
“Oh?” Emile sounded genuinely curious.
“My head has been clearer. I’m feeling a lot more energetic than I was before you came to meet me.” Emile raised an eyebrow quizzically, still smiling, but waiting for Ward to get to the question. “I’m wondering, did your medbot give me something extra when I was coming out of cryosleep?”
“Something extra? You mean of the narcotic persuasion?”
Ward refused to meet his steady gaze, instead choosing to look away somewhat sheepishly, but nodding all the same.
“Why, no, Mr. Ward! The medimachines merely did their assigned task, which was to address any medical issues you had. From the doctor’s report, including some mild tissue damage in your pancreas and liver, and signs of clinical depression.”
Ward felt a slight prickle at the back of his neck. The diagnosis was indeed understandable; anyone who’d been through what he had in the past few years expected to come away with a case of the blues. But he resented such a thing being talked about so openly, nor did he like what Emile was implying.
“Are you saying they altered my neural patterns?” Ward snapped.
“Of course,” Emile said, sounding surprised by the question. “Such a disorder is a perfectly natural medical condition, giving your circumstances. The medimachines took the steps necessary to remedy it.” Emile frowned, confused by Ward’s reaction to what the Formist saw as a natural course of action. “Is this an issue for you?”
Ward wasn’t sure how to respond. His head made an odd motion, partway between a shrug and a shake.
“Well, Mr. Ward, I must apologize. You see, the doctor knew that as a convict, you were likely to be experiencing such a disorder. He was also aware that the facilities on Mercury are in the habit of administering regular doses of antidepressants to their workers to combat feelings of isolation and anxiety. We thought a more permanent solution would be advisable.”
“Of course,” Ward said, suppressing a grumble. “You just, uh, consult me in the future if we find ourselves in a similar situation.”
“Of course,” Emile said, still not fully understanding Ward’s discomfort.
Fucking Extropians!
Ward was almost amused by the thought. Perhaps it was the effect of being away from any world considering itself to be an Extro planet for so long, or maybe it was because he had never fully identified as an Extro. However, knowing Emile’s Geminoid had altered his neurology, the very thing that made him him, in such a way seemed more than a little intrusive.
Then again, people like Emile and his ilk, those who embraced the Extro way happily, were known for not being too respectful of limits and boundaries. Such things were meant to be pushed through, overcome, and defied.
While he was sure he would have accepted their invasive treatment, had they asked, the fact was they hadn’t. Emile’s surprised attitude made Ward feel the slightest bit angry. But for the sake of gainful employment, and those few augmentations he was hoping to get back as part of the deal, he had to hide it for the time being.
They began walking again and the conversation moved to more mundane things, both deciding it was better to avoid the subject of Ward’s cryosleep treatments.
#
Ward’s eyes spent some time adjusting to the light. The soft glow made him feel warm all over, but inside he felt something ugly struggling to get out. Bit by bit, the shape of the room began to appear to him as his sense of spatial awareness returned. The more awake he became, the greater the feeling of unpleasantness, and the desire to throw up.
It was a routine he was becoming rather tired of – waking up from an induced coma, feeling totally lost and the worse for wear. This time around, however, there was the feeling of excitement, for he knew this time, he was waking up as more than he went down as. For the first time in a long time, he was waking up enhanced.
It was a feeling he never knew he’d missed, until he’d been forced to go without it.
A doctor appeared at his side, peering down at him. This doctor wasn’t a robotic recovery specialist like the one which had greeted him as he was brought out of cryosleep on the liner. This was the human face of the neuropracitioner and biospecialist Emile had assigned to him. Despite the face coverings she wore, Ward made out a set of piercing green eyes and a small lock of blonde hair beneath her cap.
She waved a hand inches from Ward’s face to call up a holographic window, one which showed Ward an image of his brain, only backwards. She then began scanning the image, zooming in and out at will. She obviously saw something she liked, because she began humming thoughtfully.
“Hmmm, hmmm.” Her head nodded involuntarily. “Yes. Yes, everything appears to be functioning within established parameters. Cortical graft is reading and transmitting properly, neural loom appears to be stable and firing.”
She lowered the window a little, and Ward saw the inside of his face. Around the mottled globes that were his eyes, bright round rings appeared where his irises should be. The doctor nodded happily again.
“Display modules are looking good. Connections to your optic nerve are secure.” Sliding the picture down to his throat revealed a small white globe over his voice box. “I see the subvocal module is in place and transmitting. Carbyn graphs are secure with your skeletal structure, no signs of rejections at all.”
Lowering the display window, she thoroughly inspected the entirety of Ward’s anatomy. Ultimately, the window sank beneath Ward’s field of view. The sound of the doctor’s approving hmms didn’t cease for the whole of the body scan. Inspection complete, she waved the display away and looked Ward right in the eye.
“Mr. Ward, do you know where you are?”
Ward cleared his throat, feeling a small tickle, no doubt due to the wetware in there now. “Ares,” he said, croakily. “Sarak Lovelock. Medical facility.”
The doctor nodded, head turning to look towards someone unseen to Ward’s right. Another figure stepped into his field of view, one which he instantly recognized. It was Pinter Chandrasekhar.
“Hello, Inspector,” he said, smiling. “How are you feeling?”
Ward blinked in surprise a few times as he scrutinized Pinter’s face. Yes, he was indeed seeing the man in front of him, despite the fact they weren’t in Pinter’s Heilig room.
“Are you connecting to me now?” Ward managed at last.
“I am. I thought this would be a good test of your new wetware. The fact you can see and hear me would suggest it’s working fine.” Pinter looked up and nodded to the doctor. “Good job, Alayna. As always.”
“My pleasure, sir,” she replied.
“Why don’t you try and sit up, test out the new gears a little?” Pinter suggested to Ward, who obliged without difficulty. Despite the tingling sensations he got wherever the doc had performed her invasive procedures, his body didn’t hurt at all. He also felt alert, despite the sedatives. Ward only imagined his new compliment of biomachinery was to thank for this, the implants now augmenting his biology, the nanorobots busily metabolizing every particle of the drugs floating around in his system while triggering the release of epinephrine to get his body moving.
Ward swung his legs off the bed, bare feet touching the cool floor. After a second trying to get
his balance, he glanced up to meet’s Pinter’s steady gaze. “Try calling up a pane,” Pinter said.
It had been some time, but Ward remembered the process easily enough. It was like riding a bike; issuing the cerebral command brought up an extension pane, bringing the Survey directly into his field of vision.
It all happened with startling speed. Across the room, icons and data fields sprang to life, telling him every detail about the world around him. Pinter’s name appeared above the elderly Formist. A box of scrolling information beneath it ran through the particulars of his life. A chronometer with the current date and time, set to Martian Universal, in the lower right corner of the pane.
Biometric indicators began filling his vision, monitoring his heart rate, blood pressure, respiration, and adrenaline levels. It was all a bit overwhelming, and Ward felt a sense of mounting panic as he struggled to cope with the flood of new information. In response, the biomachinery sent a query, which was displayed in another pane, requesting to curtail adrenal production. This one took prominence over the others, as it seemed somewhat urgent.
“It’s okay,” said Pinter softly, recognizing his reaction. “Apply some filters, get rid of the majority of it. Just keep what you need.”
One by one, Ward began eliminating some of the visuals. He kept the clock, the facial and avatar recognition. The rest he lost, shutting down the biometric readouts and signaling his biomachinery to leave his endocrine system alone. After a few seconds, he began to calm down on his own. A few deep breaths and less data streaming directly into his head did the trick.
“Better?” asked Pinter. Ward nodded and took another deep breath.
“Just been a while, is all.”
“I know. It takes some getting used to. I should know. In my day, being a gearhead was entirely new. Not all the bugs had been worked out. Some people didn’t make it.”
Ward suspected he was in for another lecture and steeled himself. Luckily, none came. Instead, Pinter glanced at a nearby door, which slid open to admit two more people. The first was Emile, who seemed pleasantly surprised to see him. The second, Ward didn’t recognize.
“Mr. Ward. Good to see you up and about. How are the implants working?”
“Fine, thank you,” replied Ward. His voice was still a bit croaky and he coughed, using the momentary lull to look over the man who had accompanied Emile into the room.
He was half a head taller than Emile. His face had a sort of Aryan sharpness to it: angled cheekbones, an aquiline nose, and blue eyes resembling ice. He looked at Ward like a tactician sizing up an opponent.
Pinter handled the introductions. “Mr. Ward, may I introduce you to Mr. Adler. I figured it was about time you two met.”
Adler extended a hand, his mouth turned up into a slender smile. Ward accepted it and received a surprisingly gentle grip.
“Good to meet you, Mr. Ward. I look forward to working with you.”
“Working with me?” Ward’s tone echoed his confusion. “I wasn’t aware I would be working with anyone.”
He shot a look to the Chandrasekhars. Emile looked suddenly apologetic, while Pinter seemed the slightest bit embarrassed.
“This sounds like a matter for you gentlemen to discuss,” Pinter said, nodding to each of them. “I shall take my leave of you. Inspector, I hope we can talk again before you set off.”
“Yeah, likewise.”
Pinter disappeared from Ward’s field of view, leaving only Emile Chandrasekhar and Adler. Ward stood silently, gaze tracking back and forth between them, arms folded, waiting for an explanation.
Emile cleared his throat quietly before speaking. “You may recall I said there were some other details to go over. These would include the circumstances of Doctor Lee’s disappearance, as well as the timing. For the sake of ensuring the same does not happen to you, we have decided to take some added security measures.”
“Added measures,” Ward said, sounding skeptical. “Like what?”
Emile and Adler both produced the same false smile, reminding Ward of Pinter’s strained explanations. He anticipated he would like what they had to say far less.
Emile gave Adler a curt nod, the other taking the nod as permission to explain. “To break it down, I and a small task force will be shadowing you to the Outer Worlds, Mr. Ward. We’ll be out of the way, for the most part. Ready to move in should anything go wrong or you suddenly find your life may be in danger.”
Ward found himself staring at Adler hard. The realization Adler was a mercenary brought in by the Chandrasekhars in case of trouble slowly dawned on him. He continued to stare even when Emile decided to jump in, picking up the thread and offering further explanations.
“We certainly don’t want you to think we’re keeping tabs on you, or plan to interfere with your work in any way. But as you can imagine, we want to leave nothing to chance.”
Ward sighed. What they said made sense, but he felt the slightest sting all the same. The mere suggestion someone would be shadowing him felt almost insulting, not reassuring. He suspected the events of his past, most notably his dabbling with narcotics, might have had something to do with their decision. They simply didn’t trust him to behave himself while on the job.
“I understand,” Ward said. The lie rolled easily off his tongue. “Is there anything else I should know?”
Twelve
Ward and Emile were seated at a long rectangular table in the building’s security office. Adler was standing on the opposite side, pointing to a holographic image synced to all three of their minds. It began with an image of Titan, a bright yellow-and-orange opaque ball with an indiscernible surface.
As Adler zoomed in, the moon’s largest city, Huygens, became visible. Like most settlements in the Outer Worlds, Huygens consisted of a central dome, connected by a spoke-wheel system of transit tubes to other domes and surface-hugging structures.
Adler brought their view in closer, focusing on one of the connected domes and its crisscrossed pattern of tubes, catwalks, and structural elements.
“Doctor Lee’s last known location was here.” Adler highlighted a section in the Transit Hub. A small yellow indicator began to glow. “He was taking a train back to the hotel district. It was here his locator went suddenly dead.”
“Was he alone?” Ward asked. This elicited a heavy sigh from Emile, who was seated to his left.
“Unfortunately, yes,” said Adler. “He had been assigned a personal security detail. But he had sent them home for the night.”
“Apparently, he was feeling the need to step out on his own, and didn’t see any need for personal protection.”
Ward ignored Emile’s comment as he concentrated his attention on the display. “Where did he go?”
Adler moved the map marginally, pointing to another dome a few stops from the Hub. “His locator indicates he travelled to and from the Cassini settlement, specifically its main recreation commons.”
Ward slowly nodded. He knew the area well. Then again, there were few in the System who didn’t know of its existence. “The Yellow Light District.”
“Yes, the city’s main pleasure district,” Adler carefully replied.
“Doctor Lee was probably looking to blow off a little steam,” Emile said dismissively.
No wonder he wanted to be alone, Ward thought. It wasn’t so much a question of security as privacy. The last thing Doctor Lee would have wanted was to have bodyguards hanging around while trying to get some off-world strange. There was absolutely no point in mentioning this in present company. But the timing and location raised obvious questions. Questions it was Ward’s job to ask.
“So, whoever grabbed him did so on his way back from Cassini. Which would suggest this wasn’t a simple robbery or shakedown. You naturally suspect someone was tailing him from the beginning, waiting for an opportune moment to move in. Or.” Ward sat back in his chair, giving Adler a knowing look. “Perhaps they had someone on the inside who communicated his movements to a third party?”
> “That is our suspicion, yes,” admitted Adler. “We’re in the process of chasing down some leads, all of which point towards a possible leak within our own organization. Meanwhile, the local authorities are looking at potential suspects on Titan.”
“Who, specifically?”
Emile answered this question, pre-empting it with a question of his own. “You’re familiar with the Centimanes, Mr. Ward?”
“The Cronian nationalist party?” Ward stated, somewhat surprised. “Yes, of course.”
“Things have changed since your incarceration, Mr. Ward. The Centimanes have become something of a radical outfit in recent years. Their demands for political reform, their opposition to off-world business interests interfering with their planets’ resource economies, it’s all been getting a lot more forceful. There are even rumors the party is split between those who want to go about things peacefully and those who don’t.”
“They’ve been implicated in a number of kidnappings and ransom demands in recent years,” added Adler. “While nothing has been proven definitively, we suspect this may have been their work.”
“There have been no ransom demands. No attempts whatsoever to contact us, his family, or anyone else who might pay for his release.” Emile’s frustration was obvious.
Ward’s eyes narrowed and his brow wrinkled as he considered what the other two men had said. “Which really leaves only two possibilities. Either Doctor Lee’s disappearance was intended to send a message itself, or the people who took him were hoping for a ransom situation, but something went wrong.”
Emile pressed his lips together, his voice dropping to a lower octave, sounding mournful and sullen. “The civilized mind surely rebels at these implications, don’t they, Mr. Ward?”
Ward directed his next question towards Adler. “Doctor Chandrasekhar has already informed me about the need to bring Doctor Lee home as-is. I understand his personal convictions and his family’s wishes are to treat any resurrection as a last resort?”
“Correct,” confirmed Adler. “And he has informed you about the information he carried?”
The Cronian Incident (The Formist Book 1) Page 11
