The problem with all this media coverage was that I wasn’t supposed to exist. I was a member of a small group of officers who had been enhanced specifically to fight magi. The Emperor wanted to prove that science and technology could beat magic and tradition, so he had us made. We were a top-secret project, yet there was my face headlining on the news again.
The newscaster signed off with: “We won’t stop looking until we find this officer.” That was just what I needed. What next - a fan club?
After leaving the transport, I caught the first shuttle to the planet’s surface. Unlike the capital, GEN1971-B had a habitable environment so there were no domes. Most of the planet was still empty, which was a rarity in what was left of the old empire. I was sure it wouldn’t last as more people found it and moved here to get away from the crushing overpopulation that was the norm. It was surprising it wasn’t heavily populated already, but I guess everything takes time.
After consulting the public directory for a local upper-class hotel and booking a room, I joined the pedestrians on the main thoroughfare out of the spaceport. The air was warm, and the high humidity seemed to drive most citizens to wear significantly less clothing than I was used to. This was a problem, as I was in a full business suit and would stick out. I’d need to find more suitable clothing. For the present, I’d have to hope I looked like a tourist; a stupid tourist, perhaps, but not a famous lawman.
As I looked over the crowd and the amount of bare flesh exposed, I wondered why no one was wearing the standard citizen-issue coveralls that would help keep them cool. The coolant that ran through them would be far more comfortable in this heat than bare skin, and probably safer too, as skin could burn in this light.
I allowed my body to overheat and generate sweat. It was uncomfortable, but I needed to look normal. When I was dressed more like the locals, I could regulate my body temperature to a more comfortable level.
The road I was following passed through an outdoor shopping mall. Deciding I’d had enough of the heat, I searched for a clothing merchant.
“Mickall’s Fine Threads,” read a sign that looked promising.
“Hi! Welcome to Mickall’s!” called a tall Parrinian man.
“Thank you. I seem to be a bit overdressed for the weather,” I said.
“So you are! Good thing you came in here, then,” he said, speaking quickly in a sickeningly cheerful tone. I almost walked out, but he said, “I have just the thing for you! In your size, too!”
He wandered off and came back with a very tiny pair of shorts and a sleeveless top that I had seen on dozens of men. If it was like what I’d seen on the street, it would only cover part of the front, leaving the stomach and back exposed. The shorts wouldn’t even reach a quarter of the way down the thigh and would be annoyingly tight. It would be impossible to hide any weapons in that get-up.
“Sorry, but no,” I said firmly and deliberately, in a much quieter tone than he was using.
“Ah! Perhaps something else, then!” he said as he disappeared.
I was about to take my chances with the heat and leave, but he came back quickly with another set of clothes.
“These are more to your liking, I think,” he said.
This time he had a loose-fitting T-shirt and baggy shorts. The shorts looked like they would come down to mid-thigh, and the shirt seemed long enough to conceal a sidearm. They weren’t great, but I needed to fit in. I could find something better after I’d had time to investigate the local customs.
“I guess I could try those,” I said.
“Try? No need, they’re exactly your size! See!” he said as he held them up to my body.
They did look right, and he probably knew what he was doing. Wanting to be done with the man, I paid and took the clothes to a changing room. He was right; they were the correct size. I preferred more neutral tones to more vivid colors, but from what I had seen so far bright colors were the norm here.
When I arrived at the hotel, a porter greeted me. “Welcome to paradise, Mr. Filamon!” He took my bag and said, “Your room is ready. I can take you there now, if you like.”
“Yes, that would be good,” I said.
He led me up to my room on the top floor, the most expensive room in the hotel, which was also the only one currently available. I’d probably be reprimanded for booking it, but I was beyond caring. They had taken my life and made me an instrument of the law; they could at least pick up the tab for a nice room.
As we walked he went on and on about the hotel and how great it was. I tuned him out and just let my mind wander as we walked. It wasn’t a long walk, and soon he was giving me a tour of the room.
“Wait,” I said.
“Yes, sir,” he replied.
“Here is your tip; you only get to keep it if you skip the tour and leave me in peace.” I pasted on a gentle smile I didn’t feel and hoped my face looked friendly. I did not want to offend him, but I had already downloaded and processed all the information there was on the room, and I knew the tour was just a way to get a better tip.
He smiled, bowed slightly and left without a word.
Normally at this point I’d install sensors to cover the room, but as I’d had to rush off-world without having time to pack properly, I would have to skip that step for now. If my stay here dragged on, I would have some shipped out to me.
I did search the room for recording devices and disabled every one that I found. They were all standard issue placed by hotel security with no sign of foul play. I suspected I would have to disable them again every time I returned to the room, but I wasn’t going to allow myself to be recorded in here. At some point I would have to switch identities, and that must be done out of sight if my cover was to be of any use.
Once that task was out of the way, I checked and cleaned all my weapons. As always, they were in prime operational order. I wouldn’t allow them to deteriorate, even in the slightest. The smallest problem could become a disaster in my line of work.
While I was working, a message came in from Joan. “Hey, Ly, just wanted to see how you were getting on. Give me a call when you can.”
Who was this woman and what did she want with me? What did she mean by saying, “Don’t be a stranger this time”? I would have to research her background and find out what the connection was, but not right now; I had bigger problems to solve first.
I filed her message and turned to my work. Now that I was out here, I’d need to start hunting this mage. My orders told me that he was believed to be on this planet, but little more than that. I settled in to spend the rest of the day reading reports and studying the behavioral analysis of his actions.
11
02-10-0065 - Lyshell
Next morning I went out to find a local café for breakfast. I planned to people-watch all day and learn what I could of the customs and mannerisms of the locals. I expected that I would be here for some time before finding the mage, who went by the unoriginal and somewhat inappropriate moniker of Slash. Unfortunately, I’d only bought one set of clothes the day before, so I wore them again. It was unlikely anyone would notice.
As I walked towards the café, I recorded everyone I saw and cross-referenced them against the planet’s last census. Those who were listed as having lived on the planet longer than the past five years I labeled locals and placed into a separate group to study. The rest I checked for facial recognition matches with known criminals, discarding them if nothing came up.
I walked past several restaurants until I found one with a very high proportion of locals to non-locals. The hostess greeted me at the entrance with a half-hearted welcome.
“Table for one, please, someplace with a view,” I said. I altered my accent to match the dominant accent of the locals and asked for my table using phrasing that I’d heard locals use. The hostess’s demeanor changed.
“Oh! Sure, this way,” she said.
She led me to the second floor, to a table out on the balcony. I scanned the crowd as we passed through, and there
were no tourists up here. Good; I was starting to blend in already.
“Can I get you a drink while you wait?” she asked.
Consulting my recorded observations, most of the locals drank coffee or a type of juice that I didn’t recognize. “Coffee would be great.”
She smiled and left to get it.
The table she’d brought me to was perfect. It had a great view of the street below, and I could easily see many of the tables around me. I paid close attention to what each person around me ordered and how they ordered it, so when my waiter came I was ready to continue the charade.
“Don’t think I have seen you before; you from around here?” he asked.
“Don’t usually get up this early,” I replied.
“Ah. What can I get for you?” asked the waiter.
“Short stack of cakes, side of broken eggs and some of your famous syrup,” I said, mimicking the order of a table in a different waiter’s section of the restaurant.
He smiled and relaxed a little. “Sounds good; be right up.”
I had passed another test. It was a bit sad how easy it was to blend in. Change clothes, mimic an accent and repeat an order – was all it took to be a local. My enhancements made that a trivial task, but I was sure that even primitives could pull this off.
The only problem was that I had no idea what I’d ordered. They hadn’t offered me a menu, so I didn’t even know what my options were. It didn’t matter, really; I could ingest any organic material. My internal systems would strip it down to base components and use them for internal repairs and fuel. My taste buds had been repurposed to check for dangerous substances, so I couldn’t even taste whatever it was I ingested.
While I waited for my meal, I placed an order via datanet for clothes similar in fashion to what I saw the more modest of the locals wearing. I needed sufficient material to hide weapons, and missed the coveralls that were the current fashion at home. My order would be waiting for me at the hotel when I returned later.
I spent the rest of the week eating at different places around the town. Between meals I walked the streets studying how people interacted, where they went, and what times of day they traveled. I hoped to discover something in the patterns to make contacts that would eventually lead me to Slash. I hadn’t made much progress, which wasn’t really surprising; Slash had been missing for a long time, and no one had any leads.
While eating a late dinner in the hotel’s restaurant a call came in from my commander via datanet. I took it with my internal communications network so that no one around me could hear.
“Officer Lyshell, any progress on the case?” he asked.
“No, sir. I have no network out here yet,” I said.
“That is to be expected.” He paused and sighed. “I trust you have been following the news?”
“News, sir? Do you mean that reporter who’s trying to find me? No,” I said.
“It’s getting pretty heated back here. She’s hounding everyone who might have known you. I don’t understand what the fuss is, but it’s getting her excellent ratings. It seems your story is good for her business.”
“Wonderful,” I said flatly.
“So I don’t want you to use your Officer Lyshell identity when you make your move on Slash,” he said.
“What?”
“She is trying to prove you’re really a monster, that we all are and that this ‘nice guy’ act is a sham to make us look good. I have no intention of letting that woman drag our division through the mud just to get ratings.”
“I understand, but without my officer credentials how am I to make an arrest?” I asked.
“Revive your Commander Mikale identity,” he said.
“I was Commander Mikale?” I replied. I didn’t recognize the name, but that wasn’t unusual. I knew they had altered my identity several times in the past. It was just part of this job.
“Yes. I’ll send you the personality profiles, appearance and anything else you need. Have him take Slash down, then lie low until this mess blows over.”
“Very well, sir.” I was sure that he wasn’t supposed to know about my previous identities. They cared more about how the department looked in the media feeds than any regulations regarding me, it seemed.
He cut the line and I was left wondering if I would ever wear Officer Lyshell’s face again. Would I remember Lyshell? I might be on an op someday in the future and he’d tell me to use my Officer Lyshell identity, and I would have this same train of thought all over again.
After finishing my meal, I returned to my room and downloaded all the information he had sent on Mikale. Outside my window the sun was setting, painting the sky with color. I wondered if it was a pretty sight; I seemed to have no concept of that anymore. People seemed to like the sunsets here, so it must be. Something long forgotten tugged at my brain: sunsets were pretty. I wished I knew what ‘pretty’ meant.
There was a strict curfew on this world so my rich businessman identity stayed in the hotel each night, but Mikale wouldn’t be one to care about such rules. I set my body-shaping program to mimic his look and changed into the pure black coveralls I had bought while waiting for the transport away from the capital. I updated my voice synthesizer with his voice patterns, lightened my skin and changed my hair to the short but thick gray hair he’d last been seen with.
It was long past sunset when I was finally ready. I dared not risk walking out the main door of the hotel; that would draw too much attention at this time of night. Instead I took my gear and climbed out the window. The drop to the ground was too high even for me, but there were plenty of foot- and hand-holds in the decorative rock façade.
On the ground I scanned the area, looking for signs of life, and saw none. Good; I’d managed to make it out unseen. I’d need to plan better next time and leave as a businessman before sunset. I must find a place to change out here.
I decided to make some noise and let the local criminal element know I was here, so I headed for the most run-down section of town that I had seen during my daily outings. There were extra security patrols there during the day, so it was likely to be a hotspot of activity.
As I moved through the shadows, I passed many patrols of security forces moving in squads of ten or more. All wore full battle armor and carried assault rifles with plenty of spare power cells. Supported by hunter-killer drones in the air, they moved with precision and urgency. It was more like an occupying military force than a civilian police force. Nothing like this had occurred during daylight hours.
I stayed out of sight of all cameras, patrols and drones. My plan to cause some trouble hadn’t taken account of this level of activity. I needed to know more about what was going on before I made my move.
A call came in while I worked my way through the alleys. It was on my personal line, a number that only Joan had, as far as I knew. What I didn’t know was why she had it. I let it go to voicemail, as I couldn’t allow myself to be distracted out here.
After she’d disconnected, I listened to her message. “Hey, Ly. I just wanted to let you know that they fired me, and I seem to be blacklisted. The media is really hounding me to reveal your location. Maybe when you get time you could call me? I could use a friendly voice right now.”
Something inside me was raising warning flags, not only at that message but also at the night around me. Something was very wrong.
“Joan, will contact when possible. Go somewhere safe and stay hidden,” I sent back. None of my normal algorithms designed to warn me of danger were reporting anything unusual, but I was sure of it: something was wrong, very wrong.
12
02-05-0065 - Greymere
“Time to get up, Greymere,” I said to myself through gritted teeth. Of all the things on my to-do list for the day, getting up was the one I was least looking forward to.
The morning after the party was a rough one. Saraphym and I stayed up much too late and ate far too much. My kind did not tolerate alcohol well so I had avoided it, but Nanny had c
reated some very potent energy drinks for us instead. I had felt so alive after drinking them, but now my head hurt and my vision was unclear. I wondered if this was what a hangover felt like.
After cleaning myself up and taking a drink of Nemesis’s power, I entered the hallway where I was greeted by the constant din of telepathy. Most days it was simply a background noise; today it felt like thousands of little swarming insects everywhere. Master Kellyn had shielded all the living quarters so that we could have some peace; I was glad of it now, but at first I hadn’t understood the need for it. How could I? Before meeting this group of wizards, I had never spoken with anyone through telepathy.
It was a natural trait of the Shadow People, and on a limited level I could communicate with the more primitive members of my race, but I had never really used the power until Saraphym taught me to talk with the magi. All magi were born with telepathic ability, and they had learned to create a network of sorts allowing free communication throughout the ship.
In general they all still spoke, but there was an undercurrent of telepathic communication that most mundanes were completely oblivious to. It took little conscious thought for me to connect to the telepathic network now, unlike my first attempts. As far as I knew, I was the only mundane in existence who could connect to their network, and over time it had become second nature. If there are more of my kind out there, perhaps one day I could connect to our own network.
“About time you got up, sleepy wings,” sent Saraphym. She would have sensed my presence on the network the moment I connected.
Her mental voice betrayed her condition; she was just as tired and out of sorts as myself.
Mage Hunter (Lost Tales of Power Book 8) Page 6
