With the gangsters disappearing back into the maze of buildings, Gabe led Petal and Ezra across the border into the Scarabs’ zone, following the map within his head toward the location of this old, piece-of-shit computer from the 1980s.
***
The evening sun dipped behind the fallen towers to the west, casting long shadows to the east. Gabe and the others used the shadows for cover as they stalked through the run-down Northern Quarter, watching out for Scarab members patrolling the borders of their zone.
The Scarabs were a gang made up of a combination of those who left the shelters in the Jamaican Japanese Quarters. Brutal and mostly mad, they lived off poisonous fish and soya, and whatever they could salvage from the rest of the city after competing with rival gangs.
After all this time, however, four gangs were now two.
And most resources that were worth fighting over were long gone. So they fought over working bits of tech history. Old icons that had no purpose in this world anymore.
They had become status symbols.
Gabe didn’t give a crap about any of that. He had no sentimentality when it came to old tech. He would use whatever was available to survive.
An old relic that had no practical purpose wouldn’t be something for which he’d normally risk coming into the Scarabs’ zone. But with the promise of finding his mother, he was more than eager to get it done. And it wasn’t the first time he’d been here either. His gang days saw him fighting with the Scarabs on many an occasion.
After thirty minutes of crawling through alleys and half-destroyed buildings, they came to a street marked on Figgy’s map.
“This is it,” Gabe said. “Halfway down there’s a burned-out shell. Used to be a bank. That’s the HQ for the Scarabs—and where the Commodore is.”
“So what’s the plan?” Ezra said. He kept his voice low and body tucked into the shadows.
“We do it stealthily. I don’t want any unnecessary deaths—on either side. Ya get me, girl?” Gabe gave Petal a knowing look.
“I get you. But let’s stop all this talking and get it done. The place is deserted. Let’s move.”
“You scout forward,” Gabe said. “Dad, ya need to hang back, cover us. I’ll flank through the alleys. There’s a rear entrance.”
“Let’s do it,” Petal said.
Ezra checked his rifle and gave Gabe a grim nod while he hung back in the shadows of a ruined tenement. Gabe took two pistols from his pockets and sprinted across the golden-lighted street, ducking into a tight passageway that zigzagged around in a dog-leg.
The route should get him close to the Scarabs’ HQ.
He stopped by a pile of rubble and ducked down.
Up ahead, a Japanese member of the gang leaned up against a wall, smoking a soya cigarette.
— All clear up here, Petal said via their network. Just two women on patrol, gossiping about some shit, not paying attention. I can get across the street from here, a few hundred yards from the HQ.
— Do it, girl, but be quick and quiet. Just one guard here, dealing with it now.
— Is your old man up to this?
— Yeah, he’s tougher than he looks. He’s got our back.
— Moving out now.
The smoking guy had turned his back to Gabe and stubbed out the cigarette.
Gabe vaulted the debris, took two long, loping steps and pistol-whipped the guy on the back of the head, knocking him to the ground unconscious before continuing on.
The maze through the tenements took longer than he expected.
Barriers and piles of debris that looked like the buildings had spilled their innards blocked his access. He had to climb up through open windows and step from sill to sill.
Eventually he made it across, arriving at a small square.
There used to be a small grass-lined park in the middle, but the radiation had long killed that off. Soil and craters smothered the barren surface now.
Gabe vaulted a low wall, landing in a crouch.
— I’m in position, Petal said. Had to… erm… incapacitate the women. Don’t worry; they’re not dead. The HQ has heavy guarding out front. I’m seeing at least five dudes with shotguns and rifles.
— Come round the side entrance to join me at the rear.
Not wanting to delay any more, Gabe took the risk and sprinted across the open square, heading for the rear of the tower.
He got halfway when a gun fired, the shot missing his foot by inches. He spun round, unbalanced. His heart pounded as he withdrew his gun and looked for the shooter.
Another shot rang out.
This time it whizzed just past his ear.
But he got a lock on the direction. He turned to his left and lifted his gun, firing off two shots at an open window of a three-storey commercial building. He just noticed a flash of reflection off a scope.
Sniper.
Crap.
Firing off two more rounds, he continued to sprint forward, desperate to get out of the open, but as he got near the edge where it narrowed toward the tower, three figures stepped out of a side door.
Wearing the black and red colours of the Scarabs, the massive, genetically modified freaks turned to face him. Each one wielded a locally produced wide-barreled auto-cannon.
Crap times infinity.
The tallest one had a cybernetic eye—to help with targeting.
Gabe knew these three freaks. Everyone did. Triplets from a messed-up Japanese geneticist that had gone rogue and chucked in his lot with the Scarabs.
Normally, there was only one thing to do when you saw these: run. That option had long gone.
“Well, well, look who it is,” the tallest one said. “Our old friend Shadow.”
“We don’t need to do this,” Gabe said, flinching internally at his old gang moniker. “There’s been enough bloodshed—I’m unaffiliated, just passing through, man.”
“We forget nothing. Your kill count won’t suddenly disappear. There’s a bounty on your head, and we’re gonna collect.”
The freaks raised their weapons.
This was it. Game over.
Gabe raised his pistol, knowing he would barely get a single shot off before he was gunned down. He closed his eyes and braced himself to be filled with lead.
Three shots rang out, the cracks echoing around the square, followed by a scream.
Heart racing, he tensed, waited…
Gabe opened his eyes. The three goons were lying face down, their weapons sprawled across the ground. A fourth shot erupted from behind him. He spun round.
“Dad, what the hell?”
Ezra gave his son a wicked smile. A body fell out of the window of a commercial building. Smoke spiralled up from Ezra’s rifle. “I may be old, but I’m still a decent shot.”
“Good shooting, old man,” Petal said. “They didn’t see it coming. I think Ez and I make a decent team. But we ought to move on before others come.”
“You two’re nuts,” Gabe said with a smile on his face. “Thanks for having my back. I thought I was toast.”
“Enough chat, son, move on.” Ezra dashed forward and picked up one of the auto-cannons, placing it in a sling over his back. He melted into the shadows, and Gabe knew he’d back him up.
“There’s an access ladder on the rear of the tower,” Gabe said. “We’re gonna use that to get through to a maintenance shaft. Follow me.”
Gabe led Petal around to the rear of the tower.
Three more gang members rushed around into the square and stopped at the bodies of the freaks. A woman with a wild mane of hair screamed before reaching for a radio on her belt.
Gabe dashed into the shadows cast by the tower and started to climb the ladder.
Petal followed.
Ezra ducked in behind a rusting dumpster, his rifle resting against its edge. He nodded to Gabe to indicate he was covered.
Up and up Gabe climbed, every step fraught with the tension that he’d take a bullet to the back at any moment. But when he looked dow
n, he saw the woman and her two allies enter the building from which the freaks had come.
— Here, Gabe said, indicating the fire exit that branched off from the ladder.
He led Petal through the door and into a dark room.
The place smelled of mould and rotting wood. In places the floor had fallen through to the level below. They were about twenty levels up.
Stepping carefully across the creaking floorboards, he found the security shaft that would take him down into a storeroom.
Gabe squeezed himself into the shaft and descended the ladder. His shoulders scraped against the walls. Petal followed, and soon they had descended to the basement level. They stepped out of the small landing area and walked through a door.
A short dark corridor greeted them.
Standing outside, smoking a joint, a guard held his shotgun against his shoulder.
Gabe waited for a few breaths before deciding what to do.
— Want me to deal with him? Petal said.
— I don’t want anymore deaths, if possible.
— What do you have in mind?
— Just back me up, girl.
“Hey,” Gabe said, stepping out into the corridor. The guard choked with surprise. A plume of smoke burst from his mouth. He dropped his shotgun in a rush to react. Gabe was already on him. He punched the guy hard on the jaw with a right haymaker.
The force spun the guard.
Petal rushed in and grabbed his hands behind his back while Gabe grabbed the shotgun and knocked the guard out with a strike against the side of his head.
They tied him up with his shoelaces and belt and gagged him with his filth-stained T-shirt.
“Good job,” Gabe said. “Want the honours?” He pointed to the computer-controlled security control on the door. Normally it would take a DNA sample, but Petal had a suite of cracking tools for this very purpose.
“Thank you, good sir,” Petal said with an exaggerated bow.
She retrieved a set of wires attached to a small interface plug from inside her jacket. She jammed the interface plug into the bottom of the unit where the programmers would code the security protocols. Attaching the other end to her neck port, Petal connected to the network, her eyes turning black as she entered the system.
Gabe crouched in waiting while Petal hacked her way in.
Sounds from rooms and corridors above them indicated they probably didn’t have a lot of time.
“We’re in,” Petal said with a gasp of air. Her eyes returned to a pale blue.
“Gerry help?” Gabe asked.
Petal shook her head, a sudden sadness coming over her as she removed the leads and slumped her shoulders. “I know he’s in there, but he won’t communicate or get involved like before. It’s like I’ve lost him again.”
Gabe didn’t know what to say. And they didn’t really have the time. “I’m sorry,” he said before pushing against the door. With a creak it opened, and the smell of stale air and dust greeted him as he stepped inside.
There on a pedestal was what Figgy wanted.
The ancient-in-computer-terms Commodore 64 in all its beige glory. It even had the original tape deck attached. A layer of dust coated its rounded all-in-one form.
“We grab it and run,” Gabe said. “We ain’t gonna have time to deactivate the motion control and video feed.” He pointed to a small blinking cam in the far corner of the dark, featureless four-metre-square room.
“Ready when you are,” Petal said, taking the shotgun from Gabe.
The sounds of rushing footsteps boomed through the ceiling from the level above.
No time to waste.
Gabe rushed in and grabbed the computer, cradling it under his arm.
An alarm rang from somewhere in the building.
“Back up the shaft the way we came. Let’s get the fuck outta ’ere, girl.”
“Roger that.”
Together, they burst through into the security shaft and ascended the ladder.
Gabe just made out the shadows of multiple people entering the corridor off the storeroom. His skin prickled with the thrill of the chase. He stuffed the computer into his coat and clambered up as fast as he could go.
When he reached the top, he helped Petal up the final rungs and headed for the external fire escape. They stepped out onto the iron steps. Gabe’s father, at the bottom, raised the auto-cannon and fired a full clip down the alley.
“Move it; we’ve got to go,” Ezra shouted up. Smoke billowed up from the cannon’s barrel.
Gabe and Petal wasted no time and almost fell down the ladders. They hit the ground and were soon off and running. The sounds of screams and whoops were close behind them.
“Hope ya cardio’s good, old man,” Gabe said to his father.
“Keep up, son,” Ezra said as they sprinted across the square. To Gabe’s astonishment, his father took the lead.
Gunshots cracked from behind them, but Gabe didn’t look back.
With Petal by his side, he sprinted through the maze of alleys, vaulting the piles of debris and heading for the border.
Tracing his steps, they came through the maze and out into a main street that bisected the two quarters. The border was just a few metres away. “Come on,” Ezra urged, waving his son and Petal on.
“Dad, wait.”
Gabe came to a halt in the middle of the street.
Lined along the border, at least fifteen of Figgy’s gang, including Kobi, raised their weapons. From behind, a dozen or so Scarabs filtered out of the alley.
No way forward and no way back. Gabe, Petal, and Ezra were trapped.
Damn it!
He should never have trusted Figgy.
Chapter 4
The Family’s Mars Facility.
Earth appeared different to Jachz now, he thought, sitting in the main boardroom, waiting for Amma and Nolan Kirino, and their son and his superior officer, Tyronius.
Although he’d been there just the once and was ‘killed’ for his troubles, he already had a wish to return—yet another developing emotion. They were coming easier now, less surprising. The data on each new feeling added to that of the others, building a comprehensive review of his current changes. The most keenly felt was anxiety.
At first he thought that perhaps they were purposely late, to make him nervous about the conclusions in his report, but he reminded himself that couldn’t be; they were not aware of his newly discovered awareness.
And that was another thing that occurred to him then, sitting at that great glass desk.
He no longer thought of Amma, Nolan, and Tyronius as his taskmasters. The ones that controlled him and put him to work. He now thought of them as ‘the Kirinos’—the Family, people, individuals like him. His status and their status and the relationship that implied had changed considerably.
There was a distance now. A thin veil of separation that he sought to maintain.
He no longer identified himself as just a worker drone under their dominion. He thought of himself as their equal.
And worse: he wished he was back on Earth, with the humans and their technology, not stuck here with only servitude to the Family awaiting in his future.
“I don’t know how this has become such an issue. I want it dealt with immediately.” Amma’s sharp-toned voice cut through the silence. She led Nolan and Tyronius into the boardroom. They chatted amongst themselves, not even greeting Jachz when he stood to face them.
They took their seats and placed slates on the desk.
Tyronius spoke first. “Jachz, report. What happened to the weapons system on the station?”
Jachz sat, remaining impassive, as emotionless as he’d always been. “My findings are there in the report, sir.”
“I know that, Jachz, but give us details. Explain how this can be fixed.”
“It can’t,” Jachz replied. “Not with the current resources available to us.”
“So what broke the encryption if what you’re saying is correct?” Nolan said. His bald hea
d shined a dark rich mahogany colour beneath the white lights. His eyes squinted behind round spectacles.
Like Amma, he was in his late eighties. The use of targeted stem cells and gene therapy, however, meant that he had the body and face someone half his age. And yet he continued to wear spectacles, where, if he wished, none would be needed.
Jachz pondered on the idea of identity. He supposed that despite Nolan’s ageing in time, and lack of ageing in body, he continued to wear spectacles and keep his head bald as a reminder of who he was.
It was an idea that unravelled in his processors. His body was just a vehicle for his quantum neural unit and DNA memory storage. As he got older and his code continued to evolve, would he, like Nolan, carve a physical identity and wish to maintain it?
Would he look in a mirror and recognise himself as an individual?
“Jachz, did you hear me?” Nolan requested.
“Yes, sir. I heard you. Running a logical analysis on your question.”
The subterfuge had started.
Jachz pretended to analyse the question. In truth, he didn’t have to. It was clear from the moment he found the breach.
“Elliot Robertson,” Jachz said. “The breaking of our encryption could have only come from him—on account of him designing it before his mind unravelled.”
There was a few seconds of silence as Amma, Nolan, and Tyronius just stared at him as if he had malfunctioned.
Nolan’s face crunched up into a smile. “That’s impossible. We destroyed him. His copy is suspended and, as far as I know, hasn’t come out of hibernation in over thirty years. How could this be, Jachz? I think you’re mistaken.”
“I see no other viable alternative,” Jachz replied. “All the data suggests—”
“I don’t give a damn about your data, Jachz,” Tyronius said. “You’ve got it wrong.”
Tyronius looked just like his father, but with sharper, crueller features. Although he was Gerry’s brother, he’d never displayed the compassion or empathy that Gerry had—none of the Family did.
“I can forward you the log files if you wish to correct me,” Jachz said.
Instantly, all three looked up from their slates, staring at him, their faces taut with surprise. Had he overstepped the emotional line? Was this an unexpected response?
Code Breakers: Delta Page 3
