by Lee Bond
Coreman nodded, but gestured towards the exit all the same. “It is, si. Nevertheless, as I said, I’ve been asked is to make sure everyone’s in the Viewing Room. It probably has something to do with that Sigma Protocol Chairwoman Doans issued earlier. Maybe she’s making a statement. You know how it is.”
Unsure what a ‘Sigma Protocol’ was, Garth nevertheless urged Naoko to follow the fake museum employee, who’d already turned back towards the Viewing Room. Concern clouding her face but showing great faith, Naoko did as directed. Garth walked alongside and once their ‘guide’ was convinced that there wasn’t going to be any trouble, he slowed, holding on to Naoko’s arm. She looked at him, the concern turning slowly to fear.
Garth motioned her to silence and they walked that way for a few minutes just to make sure that their actions weren’t suspicious.
When the ‘employee’ didn’t turn around and demand they hurry along, Garth let out a slow, quiet breath. “Okay, we can talk, just … quietly.”
“What is going on?” Naoko whispered fiercely. All she could think about was her prote and the secrets it contained. If anyone got hold of it … Her life, her father’s life, all the things she’d done as Lady Ha… she struggled to get hold of her fear as best she could, wildly hoping Garth mistook her reactions as pure woe over what was happening. So many people had benefitted from her second life, and each of them would suffer under the Chairwoman’s rampant laws.
“My guess? Terrorists. This system is lousy with them.” Garth admitted, fiddling with one of the many unsightly protrusions on his prote. He located a hidden flange and, with a twist, opened a section containing miniature ear buds.
He handed one to Naoko and stuck the other one in his ear. Naoko held the miniature device up between thumb and forefinger, tilting it this way and that. He nodded at Naoko’s unspoken question and smiled when she stuck it into an ear.
“Terrorists?” Naoko shook her head. “There is a ceasefire during the Game. It’s been that way for thousands of years. They wouldn’t dare.”
Garth shrugged. “I think the rules have changed, love.” He activated the audio program for the earbuds. Odin detected the two earbuds instantly and set about scanning The Museum’s ‘LINKs. Garth kept talking. “The thing in your ear will emit some modulated pulses when it’s activated. My prote is looking for an underused ‘LINK feed in the museum’s system. When it finds one that can handle the bandwidth without triggering any sensors, there’ll be a rapid succession of clicking sounds. After that, it’ll be like I’m sitting right next to you.”
It was hard for Naoko to concentrate. Between the supposed terrorists and Garth’s obvious mastery of proteus design, it was almost impossible to frame a question that would make any sense.
Wondering if perhaps she’d fallen prey to a subtle trap, she tried to get a good, solid look at Garth’s self-made proteus. His hand flew across the full-sized keyboard too quickly for her to see what was on the screen, but it didn’t matter. She should’ve known better from the start. No one in the world would look twice at such an ugly prote.
At best, they’d figure Garth was legitimately learning how to build them and his instructor was forcing him to wear his first effort in public as punishment. At worst, some few might suggest he sue whichever proteus maker had designed and built Odin. Never would they suspect what she was only now beginning to realize.
She lowered her voice further, nervous eyes on the museum guide. “You’ll be recognized.”
“No. I won’t.” Garth wished he could explain in detail, but there wasn’t enough time. It was more important that Naoko learn what to expect when things started getting rough. “You’ll have to trust me for now. There’s something more important you need to know.”
“What?” Naoko looked at the route they were taking, saying. “We have less than five minutes before we are in the Viewing Room, Garth.”
“Plenty of time for what I’ve got to say.” Garth jerked his chin at the man leading them. “That guy is a professional terrorist, which means they all are. What that means they’re not interested in making bargains with Doans, with anyone. They’re here to prove a point. People like this believe the only way to get that point across is through big actions. You remember the riot at the weigh-in?”
Garth smiled grimly when Naoko nodded, eyes wide. He continued hurriedly. “Same thing, only this… this will be way worse. People will die here today, Naoko. Probably lots. They will kill people to be heard. My guess is, they’re making a stand against the Chairwoman’s … friendliness … with Trinity.” He’d tried to do some digging on what Doans’ endgame with the Trinity AI was, but to no avail. All his vast fortune had been able to find out was that there were –theoretically- three representatives somewhere in the system.
Garth frowned, saying, “The absolute worst case is they’re suicide freaks who aren’t planning on getting out alive. The bigger the horror show, the bigger the destruction to Doans. With me so far?”
Naoko swallowed nervously, afraid she was going to be sick.
“Good.” Garth kissed her hand. “Good. This is the hard part for you. Under no circumstances are you to say or do anything other than what they order. That’ll make you a target, and with me running around behind their backs, it might be difficult for me to stop anything from happening to you. Make yourself as small and as uninteresting as humanly possible. Ideological maniacs like this don’t care what happens to themselves or to anyone else, but they will be working to a schedule. The main event won’t happen until Doans takes notice of what’s happening.” Garth cupped her chin and gazed into her eyes. “Can you do that? Can you promise you won’t do anything to draw attention to yourself? I mean, especially when I … when I’m not next to you anymore?”
At a loss for words, Naoko simply nodded. The legendary mind of Lady Ha had encountered something it couldn’t process.
Garth Nickels was talking as though The Museum was going to turn into a warzone and acting as though he was fully prepared to handle it all on his own. The only thing, the only thing keeping her from bursting into tears or screaming were the movies she’d seen of Garth across The Cordon, and that also made her want to weep, though for different reasons; he was going to risk his sanity, the gains he’d made since leaving Special Services, to stop the terrorists. She squeezed his hand and snuggled in closer.
If there was anyone who could do it, it was Garth Nickels. But at what cost?
Coreman rolled his eyes at the couple. If they walked any slower, the entire op would be over and done with before they made it into the Viewing Room. “Come on, folks. This is important.” He stepped graciously out of the way so the two could hurry quickly through the arch.
xxx
Chad followed the orders of the bogus security guard and strolled on into the Viewing Room, skin tingling with anticipation. With fourteen additional charges planted overtop the ones already in place, the bang would definitely attract attention. “I’ve gotta say, my son, you is doin’ a wonderful job, here.”
Unsurprisingly, the fake guard ignored his compliment and walked away towards the nearest arch.
From the looks of things, the entire Museum staff -janitors and cafeteria people included- had joined The Museumgoers in the gigantic amphitheater.
Chad nodded appreciatively. Terrorists, still in the guise of employees vacationers, were herding people to and fro, forcing them to settle into clumps. Easier to manage. Chad imagined that if he were the sort of fellow who took to taking hostages, he’d much prefer having them all in a great pile than spread out all over the place. Less running around. He swiveled his head around to take in more of the operation.
Two men per archway blocked escape. For the time being, it was kind words and apologetic looks but when it came time, they’d sprout weapons galore. He couldn’t wait.
The cyborg’s roving eyes caught sight of a few darkly dressed men hanging up in the rafters, so he augmented his vision and ran a filter or two until he could see just wha
t was going on up there. He counted four men, each going through the motions with their brand-new collapsible sniper rifles.
Chad grinned. From such a lofty vantage point, a single shooter could wreak significant amounts of havoc. In his esteemed opinion, four was overkill, but since they were running the show, Chad was more than content to get a front row seat. Following the suggestion from his pal the security guard Chad made his way through the boisterous crowds, head held high. It was the lot of artists such as himself to suffer the indignities of being sequestered with common folk. He hopped onto the back of chair and adopted his crow pose, flapping his arms and cocking his head side to side, scaring the bejeezus out of the children and worrying the adults.
So far, the idiots hadn’t copped to the idea they were now a captive audience. The terrorists were deftly exploiting the cultural conditioning of living in a regime with absolute perfection. No one questioned their motives; they’d been programmed to trust authority figures absolutely.
“God help you all, you fucking morons.” Chadsik flipped the bird to a young girl who immediately started crying.
Perched there, croaking and flapping like a crow and enjoying himself immensely, Chad’s ears perked when his sixth sense piped up. The assassin strained his head around, scanning all the main level entrances. Yes! There! A terrorist was escorting the man himself, the Job, to a seat. His tall, pretty bim clutched an arm in fear. It was a scene from a bloody romance novel, it was.
It appeared that Garth had already figured out what was going to happen, and had told his woman what to expect. Chad wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He supposed it wasn’t strictly proper to tell a woman the truth about some things –terrorist activities being one of them- but since it was a dead cert the ex-SpecSer was going to get macho sooner rather than later, well, Chad was willing to concede forewarned was forearmed.
Chad settled back down into his chair, terribly eager for the show to begin. He couldn’t wait to see how Garth was going to get out of a room crowded with panicky people. Even more exciting than that was to see how he would be able to deal with the terrorists without them identifying his widely known phiz as the perpetrator. After all, the fool’s mug was on every single free jot of ‘LINK space the world over. For a master of subtlety and intrigue, he was about as obvious as an eight-foot tall FrancoBritish assassin croaking and flapping like a bird thirty thousand years dead.
Chad lit a cigarette. “Fuck me,” he said conversationally to the man sitting next to him, “but ain’t this all very excitin’?”
xxx
Missed in the rush of people, The Museum curator stood off to one side, leaning on his antiquated broom. Eyes the color of static washed back and forth across the crowd until they fell on a man who glittered blackly under the special filters. “Commander Garth N’Chalez of the Armies of Man located.” He whispered.
A volume of information filled him, allowing him access to more sophisticated programs.
“Commencing scan.”
A few second passed.
“Neural sheathing: 65% intact. Memory block: 75% intact. Theoretical Kin’kithal Armamentarium: 5% access. Definitive signs of extra-dimensional manipulation, though the manner and form are unknown.” The not-man whispered. “Commands?”
Another surge of information washed over him. The orders were clear. Since the man had withstood the urge to flee, the events of the day –purposefully brought into being for a final test of both the neural sheathing and the Kin’kithal’s resolve- would continue unabated. Before Garth N’Chalez could be permitted entrance into Bravo, determinations concerning the man’s alleged lack of Kin’kithal abilities needed to be made.
The Museum curator flickered, and then disappeared.
xxx
Hidden in a seldom-used part of the vast basement, the God Squad -as they’d started calling themselves- received confirmation from someone outside that the ticket gates had been locked tight and that none of the employees had been seen for ten minutes. Confused patrons wanting access to the Viewing Room were milling about, complaining that Museum avatars were answering all public enquiries with a very basic statement regarding an in-house announcement happening in the Viewing Room. Their contact to the outside world wished them luck and signed off.
Now all they had to do was wait.
Tommy Dinkins smiled crazily, his eyes burning brightly. “Oh yeah, this is going to be so excellent.”
Dianaca nodded along with the rest of the forty-man crew. “They’re hooked into the Museum’s networks, but they aren’t using their protes. They’ll miss our encrypted chatter altogether, but we should be careful all the same. They’ve got men in the control centers. They might catch something if we’re stupid.”
“They might have superior numbers and better weapons,” Tommy admitted boldly, “but we are in control of the information, and information is power.” He basked in the adulation coming from the God Squad. When they got finished with this little chore, Tommy had plans to demand a seat at the main table. He was worth it, and his actions today would prove that to the Leaders in a big way.
xxx
With Naoko distracted by the slowly building chaos around her, Garth loaded up the prote-ripper program he’d used so effectively in the past.
Down in front of one of the mother-big Screens, a few of the regularly dressed terrorists were busy setting up a podium of sorts, so all eyes were either on them or on the Screens themselves, where the Game was winding down.
Odin flew through the Museum ‘LINKs in seconds, decimating the poor encryption avatars employed by the terrorists almost as an afterthought. Flicking quickly through the information contained on the terrorists’ protes, he grunted disgustedly.
The news wasn’t good. The only thing they hadn’t been prepared for was the speed of the hack; their protes were brand new and bereft of anything worthwhile. The only thing he learned about the group was that they were–according to the carefully designed files- ordinary citizens with boring jobs and equally boring private lives. No way to track them there.
Garth turned his attention back to the terrorists down below. It developed a few seconds later that they were using runners to pass information back and forth between the different squadrons rather than use their protes.
Smart.
“Shit.” Garth muttered. He’d never heard of a Latelian running around proteless. No way to learn their long-term plans now. A ping from an avatar carried a message; the museum’s netLINK wasn’t letting anyone call out and automated programs were handling all incoming calls.
Leaning over, Garth whispered in Naoko’s ear. “They’re not using their protes for comm traffic, so no one’s going to be ordering out for pizza any time soon.” He showed Naoko the results from his quick scan of the systems.
“Where … how …?” Naoko knew that a fire had destroyed Garth’s old prote. An avatar had told her so. So how was it that he was using military intelligence avatars and software to hack into the museum’s nets? She was beginning to suspect that an awful lot had happened in the hours where his prote hadn’t been transmitting.
Garth kissed her on the cheek. He was about to draw away when a lock of hair fell out from underneath her giant foam hat. He moved to tuck it in when a waft of her shampoo reached his nose. Jasmine and orange blossoms. A fitful smile flickered across his lips. It seemed he wasn’t the only one good at keeping secrets.
A great weight fell from his shoulders; with Naoko being who he now suspected she was, Huey was going to be safe after all. All they had to do was survive the day.
He whispered softly into her ear once more, wanting nothing more than to kiss her delicately, to store another one of those eternal moments with her. “We have an awful lot to talk about when this over.”
“I …” Naoko paused. Something about the way Garth said that, the way his eyes shined like blue stars … “Yes.” She nodded once.
Odin beeped again, drawing Garth’s interest. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding m
e. What the hell is going on here?”
Naoko leaned over to look at the prote screen. “What is it?”
“This.” He muttered with disgust. He flipped the screen out, doubling it in size. The visual readout automatically resized itself to take advantage of the extra space. He traced his fingers along the flow of traffic represented in blue. “This line is The Museum’s standard comm traffic. That’s everyone in the building accessing different things, as well as communication with the outside world.” He pointed to two red dots. “That’s you and me. Well, the earmikes. Since these guys aren’t accessing the netLINKs at all anymore, there are no markers tracking them.” He tapped a new line of communications that’d opened up in the last few seconds.
“Who is green, then?” Naoko wondered, tracing the lines as they pulsed and throbbed.
“That’s what I’d like to know.” Garth ran the program through its paces until the lines were thrown into a blueprint of the museum. The image twisted and rotated as the holographic emitters worked their way through the problem.
“Huh. Well, whoever they are, they’re in the basement using military-grade point-to-point encryption codes. The stuff I’m running can’t get through, which is impressive. Very impressive. Definitely not a part of this group either.”
Whoever was down in the basement hanging out belonged to someone with access to higher quality programming than OverSecretary Terrance! Worrisome in the extreme, that.
“Why… why are you showing me all of this?” Somewhere down below, a young child started crying, but Naoko kept her attention on Garth, who was smiling.
“Because, babe, if you’re going to be with me, shit like this is gonna happen all the time. Now hold on to your hat. And for the love of … well, uh, don’t … don’t scream or anything.”
Garth ran the first phase of the Harry Bosch integrated hologram.
xxx
Chad almost leaped to his feet in applause. As it happened, he did nudge the man sitting next to him hard enough to knock him out of his chair. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, mate! That was absolutely goddamn brilliant. You see that? Cor blimey. This man is brilliant. I cannot wait to kill him. Work of the fucking millennium, him. Wiv ‘is death I shall become immortal, like. Christ, what a rush.”
