Extensis Vitae: City of Sarx

by Gregory Mattix

  “What’s going on?” He stood beside Ram and looked over his shoulder at the maintenance terminal screen, where a bunch of diagnostic code was displayed.

  “Well, this is really weird. I was running a routine audit on some of the backup servers and got a weird error message like this.” Ram pointed at the code on the screen.

  “Okay… what does it mean?” Marcus was good with computers, but he wasn’t a programmer and was too tired to try to puzzle it out for himself.

  “It’s basically saying the data at this particular location is missing.”

  “How’s it missing? Don’t you have logs showing anyone who accesses any files on these systems?”

  “Yeah, that’s just it—nobody accessed anything. I didn’t even know what was missing until I did some more research.” Ram pulled a tablet out of his pocket and woke it up. “These”—he gestured at a few server racks while consulting the tablet—“are all CorpSec backup units. When I ran an inventory, the only files missing belonged to a Derek C. Watters. But it’s like those files never even existed.”

  “Who the hell is that?”

  Ram shrugged. “No clue. ‘Who the hell was that’ would be a more accurate question. I tried pinging that unit’s Datalink, but got nothing. I think that individual is deceased. How long he’s been out of service I couldn’t tell you. I’m guessing about a month, though.”

  “Why do you say a month? What happened to his backup?”

  “Good question. The system logs showed an autobackup twenty-nine days ago and then nothing. Think this is related to that skin that errored out a couple weeks ago?”

  Marcus thought of the first skin he had obtained for Mr. Thorne’s nanite project. They had assumed the problem was with a damaged cranial black box, but now he wondered if something else was going on. Could it be a software error or even some kind of malware?

  “Could it be malware?”

  Ram rubbed his chin as he thought for a moment. “If it is, then it’s some pretty highly advanced shit. There’s no trace of any that I can find in the system. The only way it could have gotten into these sandboxed servers would be by cracking the security on a skin and uploading itself through the skin’s remote backup process.”

  “That’s a scary prospect. I’ll see if I can find out who that Watters individual is, and maybe that will help fill in the gaps. In the meantime, keep this quiet until we find out if it’s a hardware issue or not. No need to get everyone spun up until we know what’s going on.”

  “Sure thing, boss. I’ll keep digging and see if I can find anything else.”

  “Good man. Keep me in the loop.” Marcus headed back upstairs and decided to stop by the cafeteria for a snack.

  The place was deserted except for one man eating a sandwich and watching the newsfeed on the wallscreen. Even at such a late hour, the automated cafeteria would whip up pretty much anything on the menu as a benefit to the shift workers. And me, who can’t seem to get away from this place.

  “Evening, Director!” The lone man in the cafeteria greeted him. Marcus recognized Captain Mills, whom he had just met face-to-face a couple days before. “You’re working late tonight.” Mills was the CorpSec shift commander for the facility.

  Marcus helped himself to a bagel and cream cheese and elected for a cup of decaf, figuring he needed sleep soon. He sat down at Mills’s table. “Hey, Captain. Yeah, the joys of being in charge never cease.”

  Mills chuckled at his sarcasm. “Don’t I know it. A sergeant should be able to handle this shift, yet here I am.” He chugged an energy drink. “A couple more hours of reports, and I should be out of here. What about you?”

  “I suppose I could call it a night anytime, but I have to read another research report to prepare for the meeting in the morning.” He hadn’t realized how hungry he was and quickly wolfed down half of his bagel. “I’m not sure how you guys do it—how do you have any semblance of a personal life, putting in these kinds of hours? I don’t even wear a uniform, either. Must be even worse for you guys being on call all the time.”

  Mills laughed again. Marcus liked the man’s easygoing, down-to-earth attitude. He wasn’t full of himself like a lot of the CorpSec types. “I’ve been asking myself the same question since I started working for TI, and here I am thirty-five years later. Getting ready to drop my retirement packet at the end of the year, actually. You just have to remember what’s important in life and keep that spare time for yourself and friends and loved ones. Don’t let the job take over your life. You’re the boss—carve out a little personal time for yourself. Who’s going to tell you no?” Mills finished his sandwich.

  “Um, probably Alicia Salinger. She can be a real slave driver.” Marcus laughed and started in on the other half of his bagel. “Thirty-five years, huh? I can’t imagine. I’m just coming up on ten myself.” Lucky bastard, getting ready to retire from this bullshit. He tried not to think of the video feeds that had been haunting him since the board meeting.

  “You’ve just gotta take it one day at a time.” Mills straightened up in his chair as if to get up.

  “Oh hey, how’s the young lady doing?” Marcus could picture Ayane’s pretty smile in his mind as he asked. She was the one bright spot at work lately. I need to pay her another visit.

  “She’s doing a lot better since you stopped in to talk with her that day. That exoskeleton you set her up with seems to be working out well—she’s getting around on her own nicely. Not that there’s anywhere for her to really get around.” He didn’t sound very pleased with the situation either.

  “That’s good to hear. She seems like a nice girl. I feel bad for her being in that situation.” He felt a little guilty for not visiting her again as he had told her he would.

  “You mean the disability or the fact that she’s a prisoner?” Mills cocked an eyebrow, and Marcus was reminded he was speaking with the CorpSec shift commander.

  I’d better watch what I say. “I suppose a little of both. She can’t go out anywhere and doesn’t have anything to do all day or anybody to talk to. She just doesn’t seem like the type of person that would be enough of a threat to warrant getting locked up.” Marcus shrugged.

  “It is an unfortunate case from her perspective. You should stop by and talk to her again if you get a chance—I think that really cheered her up.” Mills stood up and collected his trash. “If you get the time, of course. Don’t forget to take some time for yourself now and then. Have a good night, Director.” Mills threw away his trash and waved as he left the cafeteria.

  As he sat alone in the deserted cafeteria, his duties weighing heavily on his mind, the idea of spending some more time in the company of the lovely young lady began sounding very appealing. I’m not sure if paying her a visit would be classified as official business or personal—maybe a bit of both. I should make it happen—what good is being the boss if I can’t?

  Chapter 21

  Thrash metal blared over the speakers in The Killing Field, a seedy but well-stocked firearms store in the Sprawl. A couple brutish guards with elaborate prison tattoos sat just inside the barred door and kept their stony-eyed stares trained on the customers inside. One of them had two artificial arms that looked like the synth-muscle-fiber graft jobs, like what Reznik had seen in the Angelis factory. They each had a shotgun within arm’s reach.

  Mostly shady-looking characters in here. He wasn’t the only one looking to conceal his features. A number of hard cases roamed the aisles, many with hoods or hats pulled low. A scarred thug with a row of metal spikes protruding from the crown of his head was arguing loudly with a cashier, drawing the attention of one of the guards.

  Reznik had finally gotten himself some new clothes, ditching the light khakis he had gotten at Lady Angelis’s estate in favor or something that wouldn’t make him stand out. He wore a pair of black cargo pants, tucked into sturdy boots, and a dark button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A ball cap emblazoned with “Laughing Lunatic Zombies” was pulled low over his
face. He had no clue if the name indicated a rock group or something else, but he rather liked the name. The chips filling his pocket clattered against each other as he bumped against a low table. He relished the irony of using Haze’s chips to fund the operation to take down his brother, the Overseer.

  More guns and ammo than Reznik could even identify lined the walls and shelves of the store. He grabbed a basket by the door and stocked up with several cases each of 7.62mm, 12-gauge shotgun shells, and a couple spare energy cells. It was all conventional stuff as far as he could see. I was hoping to find something with a little more knockdown power. He took a black tactical vest that was his size off a rack and tossed it in the basket.

  He saw a Colt .45 revolver behind the counter much like the one he had lost when he had gotten picked up by the Overseer’s goon. I’m going to have to take one of those along.

  The song ended, and another metal song started playing, but this one Reznik was shocked to find he recognized. Killing Is My Business… and Business Is Good! Holy shit—that’s a golden oldie these days. He was taken back to his days riding around Baghdad in their convoy of armored SUVs searching for Saddam and his sons. He could almost hear Nash cursing at the scratched CDs that the finicky CD player didn’t want to play. Megadeth had been one of the team’s favorites. This song in particular was always well suited to my unit. And look at me now… I guess some things never change, he thought in amusement.

  “Need help finding something, chief?” The voice cut through Reznik’s reminiscence. A jumpy-looking clerk with long, stringy hair and a camo vest was looking at him funny.

  “You know this song?”

  The man shrugged. “Fuck if I know… some of that old shit the owner likes to play. Now are you looking for something in particular, or are you ready to pay?” The man’s eyes glanced sideways, and he nodded his head slightly. Reznik noticed one of the guards eyeballing him suspiciously.

  “Actually, yes, I’ll take that Colt .45 behind the counter. I’m also looking for some ammo with a little more stopping power. Do you have any specialty ammo?”

  The clerk relaxed visibly and grinned, displaying a gap where one of his front teeth was missing. “Well shit, why didn’t you say so before? Right this way.”

  ***

  “Ah, our would-be savior returns.” Ciera flashed a quick smile at Reznik. “What happened to your eye?”

  The two of them were standing in the same alleyway off the city market where they had met the last time. Reznik had finished his shopping and hung around the market for a while until he had spotted Ciera making her daily purchases at the bakery again.

  “I got picked up by the Overseer and his goons. They were a little overly enthusiastic in their questioning. I got a little banged up during the escape too.” Reznik scratched at the scar tissue on his cheek and grimaced. “It sorta involved a dive off a building.”

  “That was you that jumped off the roof the other night?” Ciera’s eyes went wide. “The whole town is talking about that! Seems the Overseer is furious about the whole thing and he’s got his men searching high and low for you.” She glanced nervously back to the square.

  “So I heard,” Reznik said with a grim smile. He had needed to hastily duck down an alleyway to avoid a patrol of the Overseer’s men soon after leaving The Killing Field. “Did you have any luck spreading the word to your fellow colonists?”

  “I’ve spoken to a few of the others, and they are afraid to even hope that you might be able to get us out of here. When they hear that it was you that escaped by jumping off the roof, they are going to shit bricks.” She chuckled quietly. “What am I supposed to tell everyone? What’s your plan?”

  “Right now, I’m just going to need you guys to sit tight. I can’t say too much at the moment, but there’s a deal in place that will resolve the situation peacefully. The situation with the slaves, I mean. I seriously doubt that the Overseer is going to be removed without a fight. Once he’s taken down, the slaves will be granted their freedom.”

  “Well, that certainly is optimistic.” Ciera shifted her bag of baked goods. “I should be getting back. Thank you for coming back—I’m actually kinda surprised to see you again. I guess I’m not used to people keeping their word and actually wanting to help out without getting anything in return.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. The hard part will be pulling it off.”

  “Oh, I know that. I’ll tell everyone to just go about their business until we hear something else. You know, a girl can almost dare to get hopeful with you around. See you around, Goldeneye. You know where to find me if you need us to do anything.” Ciera began walking away, but then she turned and grinned at him. “And try not to jump off any more buildings, will you?”

  Reznik just waved, but inside he groaned at the new nickname. Goldeneye. I’m sure I won’t be able to live that one down. He couldn’t help but be pleased at the result of the meeting though. The fact that Ciera and the other colonists were hopeful made him even more determined to rescue them. Now it’s just a matter of getting everyone on board and coming up with the specifics of the plan. After that, we need to execute. It wouldn’t hurt to get a hell of a stroke of good luck either.

  ***

  Reznik reached the bottom of his second pint of Sawbone stout and wondered for perhaps the fifth time what was keeping Rin. He sat alone in the Looking Glass private room with a table that could seat over a dozen. Another party got up and left the main barroom; the place was clearing out as the time approached nine o’clock. He had finished his appetizer an hour before, and his stomach reminded him that the hour was late.

  Just as he was about to go to the bar to ask Declan for another beer, the front door opened, the bell tinkling softly. A distinguished Asian man entered the cantina, his dark eyes scanning the room quickly and alighting on Reznik. The man moved fluidly and confidently.

  Skin, he thought immediately.

  Reznik was just gearing up for trouble when a beautiful woman walked in behind the man. She immediately spotted Reznik and walked unhurriedly, her heels clicking on the wood floor. She wore a clingy black dress that showed off her toned body. A mass of long, dark curls spilled down her back. Just as he was trying to figure out who she was, the woman passed a hand across her face, and her features changed as if she wiped them away. Studs appeared in her cheeks, and the dark eyes brightened to turquoise. Her hair lightened to blond but still fell loosely down her back. The muscles of her toned arms and legs became more defined, and tattoos appeared around her upper arms.

  “Rin!” His mouth dropped open in surprise. He rose up out of his chair, feeling a foolish grin spread on his face. His first thought was that he was happy to see her looking well, his second thought was that she looked stunning, perhaps even more so than the illusion she had been wearing.

  “Hello there,” Rin replied with a smile of her own. “I apologize for the subterfuge, but it’s best if I’m not recognized around these parts. Not yet, anyway.” Her bright eyes locked with his, and he heard her faint intake of breath as she got a good look at his face. “What did they do to you?” Her fingers brushed lightly across the ugly scar on his cheek, and she peered up at his golden eye.

  “The Overseer was pretty insistent in trying to find out about you: where you were and what you were planning.”

  Rin’s face hardened in anger.

  “Don’t worry, though; I didn’t tell them anything.” She stared at him a moment as if wanting to say something, and Reznik changed the subject. “Come on—let’s eat. I’m starving!”

  Reznik noticed the Asian man that accompanied Rin into the private room had closed the door to the barroom behind him and stood waiting patiently. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Reznik, meet Takeo Yamashita. He’s one of my best men.”

  Yamashita bowed politely and Reznik did the same before shaking the man’s hand. “Good to meet you. It’s nice to have some extra allies for a change.”

  Declan chose that moment to slip through
the door. “Ms. Takahashi, it’s a pleasure to again have you walk through my door,” the barkeep said with a warm smile.

  Rin shook his hand. “It’s good to be back, Declan. I’m glad to be free of my former… circumstances.” Her lip curled in distaste.

  “Well, I hope some of my fine food and beverage will take your mind off past unpleasantness,” Declan replied smoothly. “So, what’ll it be?”

  All three of them ordered the shepherd’s pie, on Rin’s recommendation. Reznik ordered another beer and Rin a glass of cognac. Yamashita ordered a sake. Declan returned with the drinks straightaway.

  “You know, he never accepts any payment. Strange that he can stay in business,” Reznik said.

  “Declan is an old friend of my family,” Rin replied. “We pay him a regular stipend to keep him in business. He’s not here to turn a profit—just to provide eyes and ears in the city now that we no longer have a presence here. And a safe spot to lie low from time to time.”

  So “we” would be your Yakuza clan, then? He almost asked it aloud but decided to broach the subject a bit later. “Nice trick with the illusion thing,” Reznik commented instead. “I could use something like that since it’s kinda hard to blend in with this.” He pointed at his eye.

  “The holographic imager? Sure, I can get you one.” Rin turned to Yamashita. “Have one of the men loan his imager to Reznik.” Yamashita nodded and spoke quietly in Japanese into his Datalink.

  “It will be here by the time we are finished,” Yamashita told them.

  “Thank you. How did things go back home?”

  “Good and bad,” Rin admitted. “My brother is on board with this, but he’s apprehensive that this might turn into a mess and Shiru’s involvement become known.” She drained her cognac. “My father’s health is rapidly declining, so that visit was bittersweet.” She sighed.