“I assume the human I just passed is the new Marshal’s partner?” Markal said casually as he approached the Council. He always spoke with supreme confidence and a touch of arrogance.
“Shame you couldn’t meet either of them,” Krieg said. “With as little as you’re seen, it’s a wonder you even know what a human looks like.”
“If there’s one thing I do not miss of my native politics, it is the Elders’ six-hour discussions before action is taken. It is sadly apparent that the trait is present on this planet as well.”
“The Elders of the High Tower. You’ve briefed them on the developments as well?” Krieg said.
Markal pulled a cigar from his robe and brought it to his nose to indulge in the aroma of the strong South American tobacco. “They were most disconcerted by these mutants running rampant in the city. Luckily this infection only infects you humans, as usual, so they weren’t all that alarmed.”
“I see your talk with the Elders hasn’t humbled you out of being a bastard still,” Krieg said.
“And I see sitting on your ass all day hasn’t done miracles to you either. But I did catch your concern over my absence. Thank you for that, Councilor.” Markal said, forcing a smile. Krieg was a bitter racist towards the Revente, and Markal knew it. “As always, the Revente Empire is prepared to offer any assistance they can with these –”
“Did you tell them of our new Marshal?” Mahto interjected hastily.
“I’m sorry, but at the time of my conference, I could not tell them. I didn’t know if he would be a suitable candidate for you.”
“Well he is,” Windsor said. “He’s already been accepted as a Marshal and he’s been briefed on the outbreak. He accepted it without much fuss.”
“Fuss? What human wouldn’t accept such a role with open arms?”
“He’s… a special one for sure,” Windsor said. “Disconnected, even. But we’re very confident in his abilities.”
“Bah!” Krieg said. “A word of advice, Auroran, don’t hold your breath for this Martian. If Marshal Kazan – one of our best, mind you – couldn’t track down these paramilitary bastards, I doubt a Red Sand Rat could.”
“Krieg, show some backbone for the Council’s decision!” Windsor said. “Besides, that’s hardly relevant. Don’t forget why you agreed on his dossier.”
“Yes, yes…” Krieg mumbled.
Markal lit the cigar and took several puffs until he began exhaling thick plumes of smoke, his lungs much more capable than a human’s.
“Such wasted potential, if you asked me,” Markal said. “The man has probably killed more than the new mutants have. He’s survived mortal wounds and keeps coming back. I would almost say he’s a Revente. But sadly, the Martians have been reduced to little more than Public Relations –”
“Will you get the word to the Emperor and the Elders, please?” Windsor groaned, impatient with the Auroran.
“Of course, Benjamin, the next conference is tomorrow. You can be sure they’ll be pleased. But need I remind you, it’s not them you need to convince.”
Mahto began biting her nail, looking at one of the monitors depicting the mutants. “And what of these mutants?” Markal said as he viewed the screens with Mahto. “Have we come to a strategy?”
“The ISTF is very real, Markal,” Windsor said. “We can’t spare many units for now, but once McKenna briefs his station we can expect to start fighting back.”
“Hard pressed for extra manpower?” Markal smiled.
“Don’t be coy, Markal,” Glazov said. “You know as well as we do what happens if we pool forces down there. It’s a war we don’t want. And one we may not win.”
“Will such a petty notion matter when these mutants start crawling the walls of this tower?”
“What of Kazan?” Mahto said, changing the subject. “If McKenna doesn’t trace any leads, what about Kazan’s findings?”
Windsor put his hand on Mahto’s shoulder. “Nina, we’ve been over this,” Windsor said. “Kazan, regretfully, is more than likely dead at this point. Whatever he might have found has been lost to the undercity.”
“But he might have found Veena! She doesn’t deserve to rot somewhere. She needs a proper burial!”
“Nina, I understand the friendship you had with U’ldanta, but there are far too many moving pieces right now.”
Windsor looked to Markal who smirked slightly as he took another puff of the cigar. Windsor wondered himself how much progress the new Marshal could make. Can he really do it? As of now, Windsor was the only one truly backing the Martian recruit.
***
McKenna’s seat rumbled slightly as the taxi came to a hover over the Valiant Tower landing pad. The Superficial Intelligence bot piloting the craft was hardly talkative, as McKenna expected, but it made the flight unnerving. He’d considered resting after he met with the Council, but he only knew his work. It was how he kept his focus. He always needed a task to do, and with Valiant Tower not far from High Science, he saw the benefit of the detour before he made it to the station. He wanted clues and leads, something to analyze before he even sat down.
The taxi touched down on the pad, prompting the bot to spin around in his chair to face him. He bore a bare yellow endoskeleton with a blue driver cap on his head.
“Eighty-three credits is your trip charge, sir!” the bot said enthusiastically. A small hologram projected from the bot’s chest to accept payment. McKenna waved his OPIaA over it to comply. “Thank you, very much: McKenna, Alan M!”
McKenna chuckled at the bot’s listing of his name. Manufacturer’s tried their best to make service bots sound and act as humanly as possible but their mechanical attitudes often showed through the cracks. He then tried to open the door panel to disembark, only to find it locked no matter how much he tried. He turned to the bot. “Excuse me, the door is—”
The bot’s eyes turned from blue to a glowing red as he gave McKenna a blank stare. “I cannot allow you to leave, McKenna, Alan M!” the bot said in a deep monotone. McKenna leaned back and thought about pulling his handgun, except the bot’s eyes quickly returned to a bright blue. “You’re not wearing your breather, sir! Hazardous pathogens detected outside!”
McKenna’s breathed heavily, and he leaned back in his seat. He let out a huge breath and chuckled a bit. The bot appeared to be chipper no matter what.
The bot tilted his head slightly. “Death by hazardous pathogens is no laughing matter, sir!” McKenna grabbed his breather and affixed it on his face. The bot then unlocked the door, allowing him to disembark.
McKenna had almost been responsible for his own death. He could only imagine how many tourists and drunks met their demise under the same circumstances. He gazed up at Valiant Tower, second tallest in the city. Even from the highest landing pad, it still managed to loom dozens of stories above him. McKenna walked towards the entrance and pressed a small buzzer, which activated a hologram of a pretty female receptionist.
“Valiant Tower, state your appointment please,” the receptionist said. She sounded courteous, but she looked to be buried in paperwork and wasn’t giving him much attention.
“I don’t have one,” McKenna said bashfully.
The receptionist looked up as if he had done something taboo. “Sir, Valiant executives and affiliates are not met without reservation—”
“My name is Alan McKenna, CMS.” McKenna was still too humbled to say it confidently.
“Council Marshal…” The receptionist cleared her throat and typed in her terminal. After a few seconds, it looked as if she confirmed his identity. “Step into the airlock, Marshal McKenna.” It appeared that what the Council said about the Marshals having no higher authority above them was true.
The door opened in front of him and he stepped into the automatic airlock. The Aurorans had implemented them long ago during Reconstruction, allowing humans to breathe safely within structures. The airlock finished cycling, followed by a scanner that sounded a subtle alarm after detecting McKenna’s w
eapon. The second set of doors opened in front of him, and several suited men approached him with weapons trained.
“Hands up! Now!” a suited guard said.
McKenna put his hands up slowly as the secretary came running over, her heels clicking on the auburn granite floors.
“Stand down! He’s CMS, a Marshal!” she shouted. The guards lowered their weapons. “I’m sorry, Marshal, security has been fortified since the attack on High Science. Please step this way.”
McKenna put his hands down and followed the receptionist over to the chairs, staring at the guards who were walking back to their posts.
“Great, another Marshal,” a guard said as he walked away.
McKenna thought of Marshal Kazan again. He was no doubt shadowing the path the other man had taken. He wasn’t sure how far Kazan got into his investigation – or if he was even alive – but at least he was finding more crumbs along the trail.
“How is High Science’s safety related to yours?” McKenna asked the receptionist.
“The attack on a major medical facility has every corporation on edge. We can’t help but think we might be next, and we’re not the only ones to think so. If High Science can be a target, so can we.”
“With Valiant supplying funding for cure research, I can see why.”
“Exactly. I’m not sure what the group was after, I’m but a humble desk girl, but Mister Valiant has told us to expect anything. Corporate espionage lives strong.”
“Mister Valiant is the reason I’m here. Is he available?” Before the secretary could move her lips, another voice was heard from above.
“He is indeed!”
McKenna looked above him to see a man dressed in an impeccable, almost shining, navy blue suit with black trim. McKenna was a socially unplugged individual at best, but Orson Valiant’s image was hard to miss. Mentioned at technology conferences and in every medical field, his name was stamped on anything from scalpels to cryostasis tanks. He began walking down the stairs as he motioned for the receptionist to be dismissed. “Excuse the cold welcome at the doors, Marshal, my guards have been on edge lately due to recent threats against the company. Orson Valiant.” He extended his hand to McKenna’s.
“Alan McKenna, Council Marshal Service.”
“McKenna? Not the same from the Martian Navy some years ago?”
“The same,” McKenna smiled. “You know your history down to the name.” McKenna followed Orson to the chairs. The man took a seat and prompted McKenna to do the same.
“All history has always been fascinating to me,” Orson said. “So much iconic change, radical invention, events, names. History is constantly molding the future. I’ve always wondered where I myself might end up in the boring text of a scholar’s work.”
“A company like ValiantCorp is already written in stone, I’m sure. ‘The largest medical industry in Sol’.”
“The name will stand, but the man behind it is usually lost: a different tale. I’m sure many know of the name ‘Captain Alan McKenna’, but only a few must know the actual man himself. I’m one who doesn’t see names, but the actions performed by the men who bear them.”
“A different tale, as you said, Mister Valiant.”
Orson smiled at McKenna’s manners, surprised by the soldier he had only heard of. “Marshal, can I offer you anything? A drink, perhaps?”
“I’ve only a few questions—”
“Has there been any update to the investigation? Did Kazan find anything?” Orson leaned forward in his chair, curious to hear any news.
Kazan was here, all right. McKenna immediately suspected the major reason he was recruited was to replace Marshal Kazan. If a Marshal required replacing, it more than likely meant he was dead. McKenna wasn’t sure how to speak for Kazan on that matter. “I’m not sure. His case has since been passed to me. I’m just retracing his steps, trying to find something he couldn’t.”
“Passed on? My god, has he…?” Orson said.
McKenna bit his tongue. “We Marshals don’t speak much to each other. We’re Lone Rangers, so I honestly couldn’t say. He was investigating the same group as I am now and his investigation might have led him to the undercity.”
“If this group has killed a Marshal…”
“It’s a capital offense, but this group obviously isn’t concerned with the rules of the modern world. Plus, I’m only focused on finding the group. Kazan’s health is someone else’s investigation.”
“I see. You Marshals really do enjoy seclusion.”
“Mister Valiant, I apologize in advance as I’m sure you went over all of this with the other Marshal, but I was hoping you could tell me about your role after the attack. ValiantCorp has taken over cure research?”
“That’s correct. Common knowledge at this point. The news only caused hysteria, especially within my own company.”
“What prompted you to lend a hand? If I’m not mistaken, ValiantCorp has been on the industrial side of the medical field. Sudden research into bio-medicine seems out of place.”
“ValiantCorp has long been a major contributor to High Science, as well as smaller groups like FEMA, the WHO and local hospitals. When I received word of the attack and saw certain security records of what transpired there, I was…” Orson gripped the arm of his chair tightly, clearly disturbed by the events. “I was brash in my decision.”
“Brash? In taking over High Science’s work?”
“When we were finally given a chance, given the fruit of life, it was taken from us. By some gang or radical group, it didn’t matter in my eyes. To think there’s someone out there who doesn’t want humans to thrive, to have us suffer for even longer when the cure is within sight… It makes me sick. I won’t have that while I’m here. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the cure. The good guys have to fight back, Marshal.
McKenna saw the man that the columnists loved to document. Orson was passionate, always described as The Valiant Man. If there was ever a company not bound by greed, it was ValiantCorp.
“You mentioned there was concern within your own company?”
“Hm!” Orson scoffed. “Unfortunately, I can’t control everything within my own company. This is a family business. We go back to Old Earth. This was once my father’s company, my father’s father’s, and his before. Someday this company will be my son’s. However, in the past they were always controlled by ValiantCorp’s financial board, and all they see are numbers and stocks. Madness! I’m the first to take a stand against them in the company’s recent history. The recent yet rocky success of my Aether Bio-Lungs cost billions upon billions. You can imagine that switching roles into bio-medicinal research just after a major R&D project has upset them greatly. This also puts a target on our heads from rival corporations.”
“The company that finds the cure to the Black Cell would no doubt rise above all.”
“That’s probably the only reason the board hasn’t sent me to the chopping block, but they won’t stay that way for long. A rival company is where my money’s at, McKenna, but finding out who is Interpol’s game now. I just hope you find these people fast.”
“Any ideas who specifically?”
“Ha! The grand question. We’re always at constant war with all of them. Petty words, some threats of corporate takeover. But once somebody found out about the research of that body at High Science? Attacking the most secure medical facility in the System seems too bold for any of them.”
“But we are talking about the cure, Mister Valiant. What is that worth to someone?”
“Worth…?” Orson said as he looked to the ground in distress. The whole ordeal was no doubt troubling him. McKenna could see he had good intentions, but, sadly this was a world where hope and valiant actions were fairy tales. It was a world of greed and espionage.
He stood up, breaking Orson’s thoughts. Orson stood up, as well. “Mister Valiant, I want to thank you for taking the time to see me,” McKenna said as he offered his hand again.
“Please, just Orson,�
�� he said as he shook McKenna’s hand. “If there’s anything I can do to assist the Council, please just ask.”
“It’s much appreciated, Mister Valiant, but this is all on Interpol and the Marshal Service now. I’ll do my best to find this group.”
McKenna turned and made his exit. His visit had given him several tips, in particular to look out for rival companies to Valiant. A logical assumption, considering how well organized the commandos were. Short of the Earth Navy, private organizations were the only ones who could afford to stage an attack like the one in question. The next step for McKenna was to put the clues on a desk, such as the one waiting for him at his new precinct.
10
NIGHT LIFE
“Desperation floods our streets!” The mad protester in the street wanted a fight, and by the looks of it, he was going to get it. He stood atop a few crates overlooking a crosswalk with several others listening to him, but on the other side of the street was an Auroran with her own supporters, patiently waiting to get a word in. “Just like the plague that started our judgment hundreds of years ago!”
“The state of the undercities is not due to the Revente!” the Auroran said. “We built the cities back just as the humans specified. And it was humans that populated them!”
The protestor didn’t even feel the need to make eye contact with the Auroran. “If I may remind the good people here what transpired before the Dark Age? Death, pestilence, rot, murder, famine, war! It was all generated by the Black Cell! And here we are centuries later, still at the virus’ deadly grip, forced to fear the very air around us!”
“And it’s one of dozens, if not hundreds, of illnesses that we strive to cure in conjunction with human scientists every waking day!” the Auroran said. A few nodded in her group, as well as some in the opposing side.
“Do not mix my words, Revente!” he hissed back. “Why must we fear, you ask? No, it’s not nature’s wrath! No, it’s not fate! No, it isn’t even God! It’s our so-called saviors.” He pointed at the Auroran across the street, who looked horrified. “The ones who took us in so many years ago. The ones who helped us rebuild. The ones who allowed us all to breathe safely, the Aurorans themselves! Sure, they helped us in the beginning – and an easy asset we were to acquire! On our knees waiting for death, they offered us a helping hand so they could use us, rule over us like tyrants! A species dying on their own planet? They saw an opportunity and took it! To make us vassals for expendable use! Who here feels like a humbled, insignificant insect when graced with an Auroran’s presence?”
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