Subversive Elements (Unreal Universe Book 2)

by Lee Bond

  Ashok nodded, pale as a sheet, but pointed to his throat and mimed thrashing out of his chair. There was no way he was going to be able to give Chairwoman Doans everything she needed if pain struck him every three seconds. He heaved a sigh of relief when the Chairwoman entered something on her prote; he felt something click deep inside his throat.

  “Th-thank you, Chairwoman Doans. If your men haven’t already figured it out, the x-series Digital Encryption Chips all house Trojan mites. Any weapon or defensive measure employed anywhere near my brother won’t function properly. The new lasers will, because I couldn’t figure out a way to make the changes less apparent. I…if you’re trying to maneuver your orbital plateau into firing position above The Museum, you’re going to have to tell the teams it won’t work; the first thing Vilmer … Vilmos did when he went to work was send a scrambler beam up there. You’ll need to replace the entire mech.”

  “That’s a very good start, sa Guillfoyle.” Doans flashed Vasily with the preliminaries. “But I am sure there is more.”

  “Yes.” Ashok nodded again, pathetically irritated at himself. “I…in addition to the Trinity materiel he stole from you, I designed, developed, and tested a long-range debilitation gun programmed to permanently short-circuit x-series outfitted machinery. I…it’s frequency cannon, so the only thing that affects it is … is distance. Goes through walls, equipment, anything, really. Anything. I…if it hits a VapoRaptor, there’s a s…seventy-five percent chance that the resulting cascade of failures will send the AG turbines and the weapons coolant systems critical. I … I really don’t think he has it, but there is no way to know. He … no … he can’t have it.”

  Doans closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. “Exactly how early into your quadronium research did you discover that your entire focus was doomed to failure? This ‘Debilitation Cannon’ of yours could not have been dreamed up overnight.”

  “N…no, si.” Ashok started trembling. “I…I’ve been working on these … these and … other things for six years.”

  “Such a busy little bee.” Doans snapped. “Continue.”

  Chadsik Field Tests Garth’s New Body and Tomas Kamagana Lays down the Law

  Even though he was clearly put out by whatever bizarre circumstances had led up to the creation of a … a solid hologram, Naoko could no longer resist the impulse to touch Garth’s ‘arm’. She tipped and she tapped as discretely as she could, knowing all the while that he was hiding –very poorly- a vast well of concern beneath interest in what the terrorists were doing.

  It was amazing, a shocking discovery that had to have its origins in his intentionally shoddy-looking proteus. With his admission about hacking the hardware restraints keeping a Protean Creation Unit from overstepping the boundaries of safety came the distinct possibility he’d unleashed some unintended side effects. Who was to say that the adjustments made to the hardware kernels hadn’t done something drastic to the software programming as well?

  “This is most amazing.” Naoko commented, recording her thoughts into her prote. “It doesn’t feel like … like anything at all, but … it is there.”

  Garth nodded slowly. He couldn’t feel his own body any longer, which was ... off-putting; after the initial rush of white-hot pain as the different parts of the Harry-gram were mystically given the solidity that now had Naoko so entranced, there was nothing. Gripping the chair back in front of him, he methodically bent it to pieces, struggling at the end when the bits got too difficult to bend easily, trying desperately to keep calm. Below him, the terrorists did whatever it was they were doing.

  “Well,” he said less dully, “at least I know it hasn’t done anything weird to my body. Other than the not feeling, of course.”

  Except, of course, for the fact that he had no fucking clue at all if his own body remained. It could be stuck in ex-dee, endlessly bombarded by swathes of energy. Or –just as easily- it could’ve been absorbed by Harry Bosch. Yeah, no, nothing to worry about.

  “Of course.” Naoko agreed seriously. Curing Garth of his discomfort was one of her priorities, but unless he could tell her just how he’d come to be entombed in a ‘real’ hologram, there was little she could do. Her specialties were computers and lateral programming, not completely undeveloped sciences like, well, like whatever rest behind solid holograms.

  “I wish I had some of my equipment here.” She murmured. “I’d desperately like to know the level of power consumption. The illusion is so real you were able to grab that seat and bend it, yet your hands are somewhere … here.” She grabbed hold of Garth’s nearest forearm for comfort.

  Garth snorted inwardly. Power consumption levels for a solid Harry Bosch program probably rest in the ‘more power than was being used everywhere in all of Latelyspace for everything, including the big shiny ball of light in the sky’.

  A brief flurry of activity drew his attention back to the terrorists. “Something’s up.”

  Naoko followed Garth’s gaze, and sure enough, Vilmos Gualf, was shouting and screaming incoherently at his subordinates. He picked up one of his tactiSheets and threw into a pile of junk. “What do you suppose is going on?”

  “I think…” Garth turned his Suspicious-O-Meter all the way up and twisted the Paranoid Gain to full, mouth twitching from side to side as he worked out the angles. “Try this on for size: this dude Gualf is using the Trojans set up by Ashok Guillfoyle.”

  Naoko’s eyebrows rose up until the brim of her bright orange hat hid them. “How on earth could you come to that conclusion?”

  Something in Naoko’s tone told Garth that she was already very suspicious of his knowledge base and his comings and goings since hitting Hospitalis, and that the ‘conversation’ they were slated to have just grew longer. A lot longer.

  “Well,” he said nonchalantly, “it’s like they said in the newspapers, Naoko. Ashok was the guy behind the Portsiders getting onto and off of the port without you or anyone else realizing it, right?”

  Ashok’s prowess at pulling such a fast one was still a sore sport with Naoko. It was embarrassing and infuriating that a criminal organization had designed the spaceport networks she’d been using to augment Lady Ha’s range and abilities. Worse still was that she’d missed it. “That is … true.” She said warily.

  “Think about it. This guy was some kind of major traitor, right? A civilian contractor for the military?” When Naoko nodded, he pressed the advantage. “What would’ve stopped him from building the same kind of Trojan malware chips into everything he’s been building? And then, since he was obviously a completely amoral jerkface, offering access to that stuff to someone who could protect him if the shit hit the fan?”

  Naoko opened her mouth to say ‘loyalty to the Chair’. She closed it. “I… I think you might be right. So what,” she pointed just as their prison-master threw another tactiSheet onto the growing pile, “is that all about?”

  “Well, either Ashok spilled the beans or someone figured out what the he… what was going on.” Garth tapped his temple. “See, I’m a brainiac.”

  “Well,” Naoko poked Garth’s fake shoulder, “I don’t know what a brainiac is, but I assume it must be someone smart.”

  “Oh, the smartest.” Since they weren’t going anywhere for a while, Garth figured he could take time out to try to calm down by nattering on about something pointless. “See, Brainiac is this guy with green skin, and he’s super smart…”

  xxx

  Chadsik al-Taryin listened in on the conversation between Naoko and Garth with rapt fascination. If this Brainiac fella was a real-live person, Chad thought he might like to spend some of the huge amount of money he was going to get from Jordie Bishop and look for him: who in their right mind wouldn’t want to see a green-skinned Offworlder that was infected with some kind of Artificial Intelligence? It was right up Chad’s alley. Chad hoped this Brainiac fella would have some answers as to what to do with any extra … Voices he might have. If not, a new person to kill was always fun, and an evil genius with
an artificial intelligence for a brain sounded like just the ticket for an irritated artist.

  As interesting as the conversation was, the malady afflicting his Job was infinitely more fascinating than a bloke named Brainiac. Using one of his many cybernetic implants, Chad had already spent five of the last ten minutes scanning the holofield surrounding the Job, rating the power output and monitoring the illusion’s interaction with local space/time and all of that.

  At least, that’s what the software said he was doing.

  Having never used these particular functions of his Offworlder-created body before, the assassin had no choice but to accept what the programs were saying. Unlike a more rational person, Chad had no issues in accepting the data without hesitation; in all his years, the various bits and bobs that made him a phenomenally skilled assassin had never yet steered him wrong.

  All those programs were telling him that the hologram cloaking Garth was burning through the power output of an entire planet every second and that said hologram was definitely affecting the world around him. Or it. Or wotever. The fact was the artificial shell surrounding Garth Nickels right then was doing everything a live body should, from disturbing the flow of air to being able to bend the daylights out of an offensive chair. The shell defied deeper, more invasive scans, but the FrancoBrit didn’t care about what was on the inside. Seeing Garth as he was now had him in a bit of a snit.

  Because if there was one thing Chad didn’t like, it was being the second most impossible thing in the room.

  That shouldn’t be, as far as Chad was concerned.

  There was nothing to do but make a foray into the world of scientific discovery. If he was going to be able to complete his Job, he needed to know as much as he could about Garth’s holographic body. He smiled bright as shiny brass buttons at the woman next to him.

  “Lissen, luv, it’s been shits and giggles, but I is about to do summink that might make you all scream-y and wotnot, an’ that is summink I can’t abide. Sorry about this.”

  While his female companion tried to figure out how to respond to such an odd statement, Chadsik jammed a finger into her heart with the speed of a striking cobra. Absorbed as they were in the temper tantrum going on center stage, no one seated in the vicinity noticed one way or the other. Chadsik leaned the woman down over the side of the chair next to her, so that people would think she was taking a little nap. He fussed a bit with her hands, trying to get them to look more … natural. The brunette locks didn’t want to cooperate and Chad had to force himself away from trying harder.

  “The fuckin’ fings I is doing today.” Chad looked around slyly. No one was looking at him. Even an eight-foot tall mush-mouthed FrancoBritish cybernetic assassin from Trinityspace paled in comparison to an out-and-out military invasion by God soldiers. That went double when the God soldiers were on the losing side.

  Chad pulled out his trusty little flechette gun. Such a wonderful piece of work, his needle shooter was, really. It was completely ceramic, completely undetectable. Not that it really mattered. People tended to let him well alone. He kept the flechette gun around because it was deadly, required skill to use properly, and was something he’d had since the moment he’d crawled out of Arcade City’s rotting guts. Deadly as the gun could be when wielded properly, Chad didn’t want to kill the Job, not yet. No, killing Nickels now would be simple murder, a sad, pathetic act that any tosser with a homemade shiv could do. If it was even possible to kill the man in his current 'state'. The mad FrancoBritish assassin/artiste had never heard of anything like a solid hologram in his entire life. Who knew what other tricks Garth Nickels had up his sleeve?

  Chad’s cybernetic heart positively thudded as he contemplated the slim possibility that while he might be able to finish the Job, elevating himself to the necessary level of artistic integrity that someone like Garth Nickels demanded might very well prove impossible.

  Chad shoved those worries away for now using the same skills and techniques he’d developed to deal with the Voice. They dissipated, allowing Chad to take careful aim at Garth’s shoulder. The assassin squeezed the trigger gently and the ceramic dart took off, making its way unerringly across the crowded Viewing Room and its intended target.

  xxx

  With threats ranging from God soldiers and crazy-insane terrorists and whackadoo religious insurgents, Garth had spent the last few hours steadily ignoring demands that he pay attention to the danger. He knew what the danger was. All he had to was use his currently Harry Bosched eyeballs and look.

  All that changed when a feeling of imminent and overwhelming danger seared its way up his spine and out across his limbs. The threat response overrode his conscious will and before he knew what was happening, Garth shifted his massive light-created body until he was fully blocking Naoko. He heard a vague ‘thwap’ and felt the tiniest of pressures in the ‘meaty’ portion of his ‘shoulder’. Things happened so quickly that all Naoko could do was open and close her mouth in confusion.

  Seated properly, Garth immediately set about trying to dig whatever was back there loose, discovering in the process that manipulating a gigantic Latelian body frame was no easy task when you’d been born a normal sized human being. He made a face. Now wasn’t the best time to be goofing around, but he needed to know what’d happened. Whatever had stuck him was worrisome enough to've triggered a full-scale response.

  Garth looked sheepishly at Naoko, who was busy gathering flies. “Soooo, there’s, uh, something stuck here in … in me. Could you … I was wondering if you could maybe yank it out for me?”

  Naoko assented with a quick nod, watching Garth maneuver his new, bulky, body into a better position with something akin to wry amusement; he was as awkward as any new God soldier she’d ever seen. That emotion quickly flashed to another, though. What if whatever insanity had happened to him was permanent? Garth seemed to be taking it all in stride, but that had to be nothing more than bravado.

  As soon as he finished shifting, Naoko nodded a second time. Sure enough, there was something sticking out of his shoulder. No fool, she instantly recognized it as something dangerous. Mouth pinched together thoughtfully, she dug around in her small handbag until she found tweezers.

  “These were a gift from my father, Garth Nickels. If this thing in your back ruins them, you will owe me a new pair. A better pair.”

  “Uh, oh, yeah, totally. No need to worry, Naoko.” Garth brushed his hand against the thing. If at all possible, the lack of sensation of his own, flesh and blood body, was even less now than before. More disconcerting than a holographic body mysteriously turned solid were the mysteries surrounding his flesh’s … unavailability.

  The ex-Specter knew he was on the verge of panic. There was nothing he could do, though; he’d been through a lot in his life, had been in some incredibly hairy situations up to and including incidents right here on Hospitalis, but this … this was terrifying.

  What if he couldn't disengage his prote from the endless fountain of energy that 'ex-dee' provided? What if his inability to feel anything of his own flesh-and-blood body was a sign of something infinitely worse happening to him beneath the Harry Bosch mask? Bristling beneath the surface of the sole memory of his father warning him about the dangers of exiting ex-dee unsafely were hundreds of others –memories that might have answers about how this mess had happened-, but they were as inaccessible as they’d ever been. Could ‘ex-dee’ be solely responsible for his predicament? Was that other place more than just a repository for endless energy and power?

  The only things going for him were Odin’s threat assessment protocols. He prayed that the prote wasn’t lying about shutting Bosch down when the danger passed. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life like this. There were things he needed to finish, tasks that needed doing, and he couldn’t very well do them as Harry freakin’ Bosch.

  Naoko grabbed hold of the tweezers and very slowly pulled the object free, stomach twisting at the sensation; her mind and heart insisted she was pulling the o
bviously deadly object out of Garth’s shoulder, yet he neither moved nor said anything. Free of his ‘body’, there was no blood when every instinct said he should be bleeding to death.

  Naoko laid the mystery object flat in the palm of her hand and gazed at it, horrified. “What is this?”

  Garth’s blood froze solid in his veins. He knew exactly what it was and why it was as out of place as he was and –most importantly- why he’d reacted to it as he had.

  Taking the deadly needle gently out of Naoko’s hands and holding it close to an eye to make absolute certain, Garth shook his head in consternation. As ironic as it sounded, he’d really been hoping that the dart belonged to Vilmos Gualf. The man seemed to have a steamer trunk crammed full of illegal Trinity weapons and it was not unthinkable that he’d started outfitting his soldiers with needle guns; used properly, needlers could cause God soldiers a great deal of trouble, especially explosive-tipped darts that could sink into the skin through the duronium under-mesh. He grimaced, training and instinct building the needle’s path in his mind. Whoever was in the audience had to be watching, waiting for some kind of response.

  That same assassin couldn’t know that Harry’s ‘flesh’ was harder than the real deal. The flechette clutched between two fingers would’ve almost certainly bounced off his solidigram shoulder to slide neatly into one of Naoko’s eye sockets. A grim, grim death.

  Knowing that looking now could possibly drive the assassin to desperate lengths –given that his or her needle had failed- Garth bent his attention back to the weapon itself. For one reason or another, standard military needlers used unbarbed, unhooked needles while the one glinting like a deadly thorn in his illusory hand was a masterpiece of cruelty and that put its creation into the hands of someone who killed for a living. He wanted to lie, but he’d done enough of that.