by Sean Kennedy
Kaizen Sanctuary
The Exoskeleton Codex
Book 2 of 8
Sean Kennedy
Author: Sean Kennedy
Date Published: 12 Sept 2017
Copyright © Sean Kennedy 2017
© 2017 Sean Kennedy. All rights reserved. This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified or distributed without the prior and express written permission of the copyright holder.
Chapter 1
Near the old coastline, in the Deep City’s quarantine zone, mid-day light streamed through the attic window of a mismatched farmhouse. Its golden patch stretched over two wingback chairs to creep towards a boy asleep in a military bunk. A small clock radio sitting bunkside on a crate played the local ambient reports, as a portable medical station on a rolling pole monitored young Jacob Faith.
...and are unprepared for the consequences of a Redwater alliance.
Another Legion terrorist attack has been reported on the belt, this makes the third in six weeks...
The sunbeam rose over Jacob's face, heating a glow through his eyelids.
...craft from the Rosschild have pursued the Legion, but so far have not been able to locate...
Somewhere beyond the roof, the sound of a distant VTOL flyer began dropping thought bombs into Jacob's mind.
Vincent, Mac, a friend named Teeva, the half-sunken Dojo in a burnt lake bed; images passed through his mind like global autobahn billboards.
He cracked an eyelid to risk the outside world and it took a few moments to form. Jacob shifted on the pillow, staring at the blurs until they resolved into a hulk of a man sitting in the wingback, watching him.
A shaved scalp exaggerated the old soldiers dead eyes, but his mouth pressed together in a way that could be mistaken for a smile. Jacob tried to speak, but his lips stumbled and his voice came out a raspy wheeze.
...Otherside stock continues to climb, even as the Afterlife Network faces widespread reports of market manipulation and accusations involving the so called...*Click* The man turned off the small radio receiver.
“He’s awake,” he said, reaching down beside the bed to bring up a foil water bag, straw punctured and ready to drink from.
Jacob took a sip, and thoughts of a bright green hummingbird flashed in his mind. He took two more sips, and tried to speak again.
“Who...”
“I am your Uncle Vincent Slate, and you are in a safe place,” the soldier said. “You were injured, and had to go through neural training. The disorientation will pass. You’re in the Pacific Quarantine Zone, where you were shipped three days ago.”
Jacob listened, sucking a few more mouthfuls of water into his system. He had the strength to sit up, or at least he thought he did, but when he tried the room began to roll.
“Easy... things are going to be intense, take it slow,” Slate said and leaned back in the chair.
Jacob slumped forwards and took some deep breaths until the bunk stopped pitching. Something tugged on his right arm. An intravenous feed guided a series of wires into the silent medical monitor. Slate leaned forwards and disconnected the shunt from his arm.
Jacob blinked. “I don’t... remember...”
“That’s expected,” Slate said, “it will come back, more or less.”
Jacob rubbed the soft stubble of his scalp, “What happened to my hair?”
A deep throaty laughed exploded like an artillery blast out of Slate, but a dreadful wet cough crushed his powerful voice, robbing the joy from it. His body spasmed with pain as he hunched forward.
Wiping his mouth with a pocket rag, Slate compose himself with a fresh layer of pain in his eyes.
A tall man came thundering up the attic stairs and burst into the room, carrying a tray of steaming sweet-smelling bowls.
“Well now, looks who’s awake!”
He brought the tray to the makeshift table as Slate swept the radio and lamp to one side. Jacob peered inside the bowls to see deliciously yellow mush.
“Sorry about your hair,” Mac said, “we had to shave your head to use the neural helmet, otherwise we would have lost you.”
“Did you get hurt too?” Jacob asked.
Vince kept the tight-lipped smile in place, “I did.” He said and looked over at Mac, “and it saved my life too.”
Mac glanced up and nodded, “well, it's always a good idea to make sure you're on track every now and again. What do you remember Jacob?”
Mac dropped himself into the second chair as Slate held out the water bag to Jacob again. He drew another long pull from the straw as Mac’s question swirled in his mind.
“I was on Mars... in my armor...”
“Your armor?” Slate asked, and both men became still.
“Yeah, it was a Hummingbird 8; the Kaizen Exoskeleton Power Armor and... it... it felt good.”
The two men's faces were blank as Jacob spoke.
“It's like I just knew how to use it... and there was a... a hummingbird ...who was helping me.”
“Unfortunately Jacob, we’re not in the best medical position here, so we had to make-do to save you. That was the only neural program we had,” Mac said.
“But the training module we used was a very special one,” Slate added.
Jacob felt the water's strength pulsing through his body as his mind picked up speed. “Oh no, it was fantastic! Really! I just can't seem to remember... everything... just yet.”
“That’s normal,” Mac said. “The training program was called Vade Mecum, it was designed to...”
“That was his name! The hummingbird! His name was Vade Mecum!”
“Sure,” Mac shrugged, “the neural modules can sometimes manifest like a dream when it implants data. You’ll know things now without remembering ever having learned them. It can be a bit weird.”
“That's okay, I’m getting used to that,” Jacob said, and Mac winced, remembering Shidoshi Corp had already wiped Jacob only a few days prior.
Jacob looked out the arched attic window, “we still have time,” he said, and looked at his hands. They felt small and exposed.
“Still time... for what?” Mac asked.
“To get to Mars,” Jacob said smiling.
Mac nodded, “sure, there’s plenty of time for...”
“Is that what you want?” Slate interrupted, boring holes in Jacob with the intensity of his stare, “you want to go to Mars?”
“Oh yes!” Jacob almost shouted, “I have to!”
“Why?” Slate asked, and Jacob blinked as though slapped. The sense of urgency was boiling within him, but the why was still shrouded in fog.
“Because... I just ...have to,” Jacob said, floundering to find a better answer.
“Yes, well, there will be plenty of time for all that later...” Mac started again.
“No!” Jacob cut him off, “It’s vital that I get to Mars! ...I have to... find... something...” Jacob's voice trailed off.
He looked to the two men, and for an instant, their faces were blank, as though receiving a telepathic transmission from somewhere far away. As quickly as it appeared, the look vanished, and their consciousness fell back in place.
“Very good then, that’s the priority...” Slate said, and coughed and covered his mouth with a red stained handkerchief. Jacob remembered seeing Slate laying on the kitchen floor.
Mac handed him one of the sweet-smelling bowls. “You must try to eat something.”
“You’ll need your strength for training,” Slate added as Jacob took it.
The two men sat silently and watched Jacob eat. He went slowly at first, but soon was taking greedy mouthfuls. He made it through the second bowl witho
ut slowing down, and was three-quarters through his third before leaning back, taking a fresh water bag from Slate.
“I... I remember some things, but there's holes,” Jacob said, studying Slate’s scalp and the old man’s scars.
“Do you remember anything about when you got here?” Slate asked.
“A little bit, you said I’m in a quarantine zone?”
“That's what they call it,” Slate said, “it’s where they put everything they don’t want anymore.”
“That’s not to say you’re not wanted Jacob,” Mac winked, “but I'm afraid there was an accident with your parents.”
Jacob looked back at his half empty bowl of reconstituted eggs and waited for feelings to well up within him, but none did.
“These things happen I guess,” Jacob shrugged, “It’s an unfortunate part of our expansion. As long as we learn, it won't be a complete loss.” He looked up to see the stunned expression on the two men’s faces and wondered why it was there.
“You're my uncle?” Jacob asked, as bits of information connected.
“I am,” Slate said, “and Mac is too. Though not by blood, he’s still my brother.”
“Oh, c’mon now, I hardly know you,” Mac feigned offense, winking at Jacob, “what else do you remember lad?”
Jacob tried his memory again. Images of a tall glass tower drifting away framed in his mind.
“Cornucopia...” he said and waited for other words.
“That’s the name of the acarology you came from,” Mac said.
“It was killed,” Slate said, “its culture dismantled because...”
“Because of things beyond anyone's control,” Mac interrupted. “Do you remember ever being outside the arcology before?”
Jacob strained and remembered the smell of oily night air and a bright yellow seat. He remembered hiding and holding someone as they shook in the darkness.
“Bro...” Jacob said.
“That would be the young man that was by, Teeva is what he said his name was.”
Mac’s voice triggered a cascade in Jacob’s mind. “Yes, Teeva, and a ship dried into a lake bed, but when I put on iGlasses...” Jacob patted his chest for the pocket where he’d kept them.
“I have them here," Mac said, passing him a small black weatherproof case. “This will keep them safe while you're knockin’ about.”
Jacob took the case. It was smooth and very light. He pressed the two outlined buttons, popping the airtight seal. Inside, his Shidoshi iGlasses rested on a bed of hyper-foam.
“Did Teeva modify those?” Mac asked, and Jacob reached into his memory, this time finding answers.
“No, Joni did, she was on the ship. She said she could make it so they’d get past the zone restrictions.”
“Well, Joni knows her tech. She did some very clean jumper work on those shields, you should thank her properly and have her come by the house.”
Jacob didn’t know what to say to that. Slate’s deep voice filled the void, “other than that first night, you’ve never been outside at all?”
“I remember Alcazar...”
“And you should forget it,” Slate said, his voice softening, “that place is all lies.”
“I told Mr. Crew it wasn’t my parent's fault. That wasn’t a lie,” Jacob said and felt something stir within him.
“No,” Slate said, “that wasn’t a lie.”
“What happened to the Space Corps?” Jacob asked, and Slate’s face darkened again. He stood up and coughed, swaying a bit, but but tried to hide it by grabbing the chair’s high back.
“Mac can tell you, I’ll get things ready,” he said and strode away concealing another shuddering cough.
“Ready for what?” Jacob asked.
“Training!” Slate called between smothered coughs and his large frame passed through the attic’s doorway.
“Please tell me about the Space Corps Uncle Mac,” Jacob asked, and Mac nodded.
“What I'm going to tell you, Jacob, is god’s honest truth, but the truth can be a funny thing.”
Jacob blinked and tried to think of what he meant.
“The truth isn't always about facts, sometimes it’s not that simple,” Mac said, leaning back in the chair. “The Space Corps was formed to send people to the stars. Back then, it was only governments who had access to space. When privatized space exploration took off, it was only a matter of time.”
“A matter of time before what?”
“Whenever you have an idea that goes against human nature, the idea loses,” Mac whispered as he stared out the attic’s cathedral windows. “Soon after the beanstalk went live, it was decided the Space Corps would be shut down.”
Jacob recoiled, “but... you were heroes!”
“Means nothing,” Mac said, “once the market decides you’re obsolete, no force in the universe can save you. The Corps is all but forgotten now, only permanent media even mentions us,” Mac said, and saw Jacob’s questioning eyes. “Printed hard copy, like the books in your locker,” he nodded at the foot of the bunk, “‘if it weren't for those, no one would know we ever existed.”
“What did you do in the Space Corps?”
“Your Uncle Slate was the pilot I was issued, and I was his navigator. We met in flight training, just kids really, not much older than you.” Mac smiled, “back then, the Space Corps was the future of humanity. Whenever the wars and terror became too much, we could cast our eyes to the heavens. News of space exploration and asteroid mining was the story of human ascension. The Corps should never have changed their role to security, that was the beginning of the end.”
“You were space police?”
“Well, in a way,” Mac said, “after the beanstalk went up, that space elevator made it so corporations could get to space cheaply and more securely without involving the Corps. When you are talking about billions of dollars with every payload, private corps don't want any scientific idealists watching what they do. So the hey cooked up scandals and media spectacles until the Space Corps reputation was destroyed. Then with the stroke of a pen, they undid a hundred years of history,” Mac snapped his fingers, “just like that.” Mac winked as Jacob took a another sip from the water bag, “so your Uncle and I know little something about being betrayed as well.”
“But ...why?”
Mac shrugged, “the same reason you were tossed out, the merciless hand of economics. It was the perfect time to show us veterans the door. They classified our illnesses to be non-terrestrial, and we were both shipped into quarantine,” Mac squinted trying to remember, “must be ten years ago now.”
“That’s why Uncle Vince coughs?”
“Well, that's the ultimate cause, yeah. When he got you out of Alcazar, he put a terrible strain on his system. It could have killed him.”
Jacob shook his head, “Mr. Crew talked about Kaizen and the Space...”
“All lies,” Mac cut him off, “remember what your Uncle said about Alcazar? Sure, the Space Corps had some bad apples, but militaries are expensive, especially in space. When anyone wants to destroy something people are proud of, they have to destroy it in the public mind first.”
Mac's words were cool water flowing over Jacob’s mind. “What about Kaizen?” he asked.
“Originally,” Mac took a breath, “Kaizen was started by Daniel Akakoda, that means he indirectly founded the Cornucopia Arcology. So, I suppose, like the space corps, you're part of the Kaizen story too,” Mac chuckled, “maybe that’s why the Kaizen like you so much.”
“Daniel Akakoda?”
“Oh!” Mac Shrugged, “Brilliant. The work he did with artificial intelligence was second to none. Kaizen were the first true AI, and now it’s all banned tech. The market will tolerate some independence, but it won’t sacrifice control. None of the simtelligence units you see running around today could hold a candle to the original Kaizen,” Mac sighed.
“He knew in the early days it would be a space race, and wanted Kaizen to get out before the claws of the corpolitical
market could complete their plans.”
“What plans?”
“Plans for control, Jacob, it's always about control. Once Kaizen slipped beyond the market’s influence, the Big Seven tried to buy out Kaizen, but Akakoda was too smart for them. Kaizen was motivated by science, and the Big Seven by profit, so Kaizen worked closely with the Space Corps pushed their research to Mars.”
Mac nodded thoughtfully, “I think the Big Seven were afraid Kaizen could create a gap too big for them to close, so they took both Kaizen and the Space Corps down at the same time. Maybe if Akakoda had sold out, it could have been different, but he ran instead.”
“Where?”
“To Mars. He built a cargo transport off the coast and jumped the whole thing into orbit before bouncing to Mars, and the first permanent Mars base was founded years before the beanstalk even existed.”
“I wonder if that's where my parent's ship was going.”
Macs eyes grew hard, “yes, I think it was.”
“But,” Jacob struggled, “if they shut Kaizen down, there wouldn’t be anyone left on Mars.”
“That’s if they brought them back,” Mac spoke softly, and realization crept through Jacob's mind.
“They just ...left them on Mars?!”
“Not officially,” Mac said, “it's easy to hide behind costs and jump errors. There are some stories, and even photos of the Kaizen employee’s returning to earth, but no one can find the actual people. That’s why I think your parent’s ship, made the jump.”
“But what about the Kaizen families left back on earth?”
“It gets called a conspiracy theory in local ambient reports, and then the media focuses on another distraction,” Mac shrugged, “I’m sorry to have to tell you all this, lad.”
“What are the Big Seven?”
“The corpoliticals; the ones who control the money, and that’s what makes the world go around. Meanwhile, our Space Corps was underfunded from the beginning,” Mac laughed, “We never would have made it without Kaizen’s support.”
Jacob blinked, still trying to make sense of it.
“Anyways,” Mac went on, “they had to shut us down, can't have your peasants getting any big ideas.”
