by Wolfe Locke
“Your right hand,” The Sergeant said to Niles without a hint of emotion as Niles extended his hand towards him. The other man took it and looked straight into Niles’ eyes as he drove a syringe into him. Niles tried not to wince. The pain was intense, more intense than it needed to be, but just as quick as it had come, it was gone, receding little by little. That was worse than the Smallpox series, but it looks like it won’t leave a scar, Niles thought. When it was over, he couldn’t even see a mark on his skin. Niles looked up, a bit surprised by that. Sergeant Zander smiled.
“It’s a GRID Chip. You might remember this from your own work down in Jordan with the 293rd. It’s been adapted a bit. We’ll be able to find you easily, even if you go outside the Grid. It’s also been programmed to give you additional access to places in the facility.”
Niles frowned, not understanding as Sergeant Zander explained, “The Grid is our code word for Seven Cities Online within the SynaCAID platform. You’ll see what I mean. The System is a lot different on this side of things.”
He didn’t really get it, but it wasn’t on him to. If they wanted to explain further, they would. He had never really been a tech guy and wasn’t up with the current terminology.
“Anything else I need to know?” Niles asked, trying as he could to keep out the little bit of irritation that was creeping into his voice. They respected him for the past, but they were all soldiers. He knew them like he knew himself. If he acted out or made a scene, none of them would hesitate to remind him that he didn’t wear the uniform anymore and, more importantly, that he wasn’t one of them anymore.
It wasn’t that long ago that Sergeant Zander would have been some private sporting dog tags in a pool hall in his hometown. Meanwhile, Niles would have been deployed to an active combat zone, but things were different now, and time had passed. He had been replaced. Niles let the thoughts go, trying to not be bitter.
“Your Rig is in your room,” Sergeant Zander told him. “Feel free to check it out and make sure it meets your requirements.”
“My Rig?” Niles asked. How did they get past my security? His AI might not have been the highest grade, but it still shouldn’t have been so easy to bypass. He had even left a few old fashioned traps behind, always wary about people breaking in. It might not have been the most secured, but at the least, he should have been notified if there was a breach. But there hadn’t been an alarm. Niles hadn’t gotten a message at all. That meant only one thing. The Colonel had pulled some strings.
“I see those wheels turning, no sir, that eRehab unit of yours is still registered to your apartment. This unit is one of our own, an upgrade.” Zander said, “Signed for by the Colonel himself, upgraded and equipped with everything we could think of. It should work well for you,” Zander finished.
Niles rubbed his face, feeling tense. He was overthinking things. Together they walked into a room with more than six people clacking at virtual keyboards. Sergeant Zander nodded to another man who got up immediately and walked to a large screen and pulled a data deck from the side of the screen.
“This is Mathew Cavanaugh,” Zander said, pointing to the tech. Niles nodded to the taller man. Matthew was built like any regular guy, except for the computer factor. It looked like it had been years since he last slept. He had that pale sunken-in look that analysts who worked all hours without a set schedule tended to develop.
“You look as worn out as the air in this place,” Niles said, and the man smiled a thin smile that did nothing to relieve his tired eyes. Zander seemed not to have gotten the joke, but Niles didn’t care. Mathew moved some of his people around to make room at the console for Niles. Satisfied that everything was in working order, he went back to whatever it was he had been doing as the sounds of keystrokes sounded up again.
“They stay busy,” Niles said, not envying any of them. Life for a military analyst wasn’t as glamorous as one might believe. Sergeant Zander nodded.
“They have to be, and soon, you’ll be just as busy, sir,” Zander said, and Niles nodded. The Sergeant was growing on Niles. The man was serious about his job, and that was what made every soldier a good one. That mission adherence reminded Niles of his own time as a soldier.
He had been just as serious. That was how he made his way up the NCO ranks, until moving on to become a Warrant Officer. That promotion took him out of the force and out of the fight. The promotion isn’t what did it. Getting close to the flagpole did, he reminded himself bitterly. Well, the flagpole and Grisham Fairway trying to save his own ass after I got hurt. He scoffed, feeling an old bitterness rising up in him.
“You following me, sir?” Zander asked. Niles blinked himself back into reality. The Sergeant smiled. “I was saying you’ll have the full cooperation of all the personnel in the building, civilMarcus and military. The Colonel was very clear, once you’re in, you’re calling the shots on the ground.”
“That’s good to hear,” Niles said, nodding for the man to keep walking. That helps a little bit with knowing where my place is in the command structure. Niles thought, his mind considering ways to get started on the task he had been given. This would take a bit of investigating and a bit of imagination before he was fully in the swing of things. He had a lot he needed to think about.
“What do you think about the mission?” Niles asked. The Sergeant looked confused, and Niles pressed him. “What do you think is happening? You’ve read the reports, I presume? What do you think is happening? Resistance against the SynaCAID? Or someone is intentionally trying sabotage the whole system?”
“I don’t know, sir,” Zander said with a stern look that Niles took to mean the man wasn’t allowed to answer. His movement was utterly military. No fluidity. He was rigid and focused. That unflinching fidelity towards standards was one of the few things Niles had been happy leaving behind after being discharged.
Following discharge, Niles had taken a little bit of time to explore the world and rediscover for himself some of his values, values that had previously been shaped entirely by the military sphere of influence. But Niles still knew when to be stiff and when to be the military man he once was, and when to push. This wasn’t one of those times. Niles nodded.
“This mission brings up an interesting problem, Zander,” Niles said, though the Sergeant didn’t say anything. The problem was simple, and he felt the answer, the solution might be just as easy. “These people, this Old Dominion, they have to have a reason for doing all of this. People just don’t kill. Even sociopaths have reasons for taking up the knife.”
Niles was positive he could find their reasons once he had more in-depth information on the group’s actions. Every single living thing had a pattern. Sometimes it was in the deep of it, and sometimes, it was on the surface. He just had to trace this pattern all the way back to those within the organization.
“You ever heard of Kirkland’s Web?” Niles asked. Zander turned to him and shook his head as they walked for a while until they got to a clear glass door. Niles scoffed. He was surprised. The facility wasn’t as cheap in the remodeling as he thought they had been. His original assessment was wrong. The place was different in a better way. Sergeant Zander brought the palm of his hand up to the panel on the side door and then motioned for Niles to do the same. After the machine read them both, it clicked, sliding open, and disappeared into an alcove. Zander led Niles inside.
“This is your room, sir,” Zander said, still looking at ease, even though Niles was starting to feel the strain. The man looked fresh, even though he had been walking and standing for a few hours. Niles couldn’t but feel a little bit of envy. Those days were long past for him. Days when all he needed was three hours of sleep, a cup of coffee, and a cigarette in a pinch to wake up and meet the demands of the day.
Niles nodded at Zander and followed the man from his assigned quarters all the way to the attached Rig room. My own customized Rig, how much extra have they added on to it? Niles thought. They must have read his data and seen that, but then when Zander nodded for him to go ah
ead and look the machine over, Niles realized this, this was different. The best kind of different.
“This is one of the most advanced Rigs available, sir, even by military standards,” Zander said. “At least one of the most advanced. As far as we’ve been able to find, only a few people among the opposition have anything comparable.” Niles nodded. He could see why that could be true. The machine looked more complicated than a high-end luxury vehicle.
“You’ll find this custom has all the unique qualities provided by the eRehab machine, and the synchronization is instant. You just have to say the login, and you’ll log in as usual into the SynaCAID system. The boys will come to integrate the Talon into the Rig pretty soon, and then you’ll be ready to get started.” Niles chuckled, smiling like a kid on Christmas. He wanted to jump in the pod and start right away. Niles’s cane shook in his hand. He stood up straight and nodded at the man.
They walked out of the Rig room, and Niles’ mind was full of tasks to accomplished. He had a lot of work to do. He had to check where the last victims were killed, what they were doing, who they were, what connections they had to each other, and what amount of money they had in the bank, and if any of that was traceable. I’ll need help with that; he thought the analysts will be great for that task, but which one?
Sometimes the best way to do something was the old fashioned way. The analysts could wait. Niles decided to try and do it the long, drawn-out way. He sighed. He walked behind Zander until the other man pointed to the table. It was a clear glass table. But Niles knew it was far more than a table. It was an access system.
“This has access to all the files on the SynaCAID, sir,” Zander said. Showing him the data deck he had collected from Mathews. “It has all about the recent murders too. If you need more, just contact Mathews or one of the roaches next door, and they’ll try to get you everything you need.”
Niles nodded as Zander placed the deck on the table. A blue line ran across the table to the deck, and once it touched it, the whole table lit up with a cool green. The display showed only one folder. It was named SynaCAID. Zander was about to touch it, but Niles interrupted, waving him off.
“Let me, Sergeant, this is my job. I know what to do. I’ve been doing this a long, long time,” Niles said, trying to point out that he’d done a lot of work like this while enlisted and had continued to do the job once out. The anger in Zander’s eyes faded at the reminder that Niles had been just like him once. He backed up a few steps and nodded. Niles smiled, trying to diffuse the situation. He hoped the man wouldn’t hold a grudge over it, but it was essential to set up these kind of boundaries.
Niles had more to worry about. The more he thought about the job he’d been brought in to do, the more it seemed weird that the problem existed at all. The SynaCAID had always been a secure and safe platform. It was disturbing to think about, even if the issues were limited to Seven Cities.
“You know how to get to me when you want something, sir?” Zander asked, and Niles frowned before nodding in understanding. I understand. If I need to leave, I still need an escort. That’s what he’s implying. Niles thought, knowing there was a process in place for things, and despite what they had said, Niles didn’t really have freedom of movement in the facility.
“Yeah, I know how Zander. The GRID right?” Niles responded as he stood straight, punishing against his cane with most of his weight to support himself. Just that he had been on his feet this long already was an acknowledgment that he was getting better, the eRehab was working, and would hopefully continue to work with this new system.
“Good,” Zander said, turning around and walking to the door. It slid open for him, and then the man slipped out before the door could close behind him. Niles cursed, realizing at some point he would need to go home and get some things. Or, I can have Zander pick them up if I’m really not allowed to come and go as I please. Niles shrugged.
He was already feeling a need to log back into the SynaCAID and explore. He needed to know what was happening in Seven Cities. I need to read up on the little bit that I heard. Commerce and socialization, I need the atmospherics. Niles turned to the table and touched the folder
The data inside spread all over the table. Dates, times, recordings, and reports. He smiled, feeling like this was the start of something he’d been missing out on, though a quick yawn let him know he would be needing a coffee real soon. He knew he was looking at a series of long hours and longer nights. He sat down and picked through the first of the files, leaning his cane on the table’s legs.
This first victim was found three months ago. The twenty year old Greg Damarcus, had twenty-three thousand dollars that had been stolen. No known affiliations. But is that really the first attack? Niles thought as he touched another portion of the table, working on constructing a timeline. Twenty-three thousand dollars too? With the economy in freefall and the nano storm, what’s a kid like this doing with so much cash? Niles drew a ? on the table and moved on.
Everything belonging to Greg had been taken, and two hours after his money had been transferred to an untraceable account, Greg had disappeared entirely. Niles slid that report to the side and kept digging. He touched another, the data exploded and filled the surface of the table. He pulled it up until it was looming on top of the table, a projection of someone’s death.
He kept reading, digesting the information. Searching for the patterns, finding what looked like a pattern, only to have to discard his findings when he’d discover conflicting data. The ages of the victims were random, and the level of wealth between them also varied. After Greg, a man named Stuart, was killed. He had a million units of the newest digital currency.
After him, a woman named Elizabeth was killed. Unlike Stuart, she only had six thousand of the same unit. But in the chaos of it all, a few key figures in society had been killed. Bruce Avery, the owner of GarrenCorp, one of the top six players in the pharma industry, and Welma Kelsh. An eccentric billionaire who donated heavily to the military and just as generously to education.
I’m missing something, something earlier. Until I find out otherwise, I’ll have to assume Bruce and Welma are linked. He sighed, rubbing his eyes and anchored their files to the table before leaning back on the firm wood chair and queried the table for all reports of attacks within the Seven Cities Online within the last 6 months and prepared to wait for the data to come back to him.
In the meantime, Niles was feeling a bit groggy and thirsty. Niles knew what he wanted most, but he had stopped drinking a few years passed. He’d have to settle for water or coffee. He groaned as he stood up, both the joints in his knees and shoulders popping. It seemed so easy and yet so complicated.
He placed his hand on the panel, and after it read his implant, the door slid open. Niles smiled. I’ve been given a little space and some clearance after all. He decided to head over to the lounge or day room, whichever was closer. He might not be wearing their uniform, but if he was going to be working with them, alongside them, he wanted to be around them. That little bit would have to be enough to motivate him. I missed this more than I thought I did, Niles admitted.
Folding his fingers into a fist and released them. His implant projected an interface over his palm. He hoped the upgrade they gave him had a map too. He was not sure everything was still where it used to be. It would be stupid to get lost here. It had once been his second home, even if things had changed. Besides, getting lost would make me feel like a real asshole, Niles thought with a half-smile.
He queried for a map, his implant displayed it. Niles quickly found the lounge. It had merged with the cafeteria. He shook his head. Sometimes things change for the better, but why fix it if it’s not broken?. Niles walked slowly. He was good at it now. Small, leisure paces. Enough to get his motor skills working smoothly, with no discomfort. His cane gave a soft sound but that was all about it.
Old Dominion. Niles thought, thinking about how he had liked the name immediately the first time he heard it. Maybe that’s the point,
to get people like me to like it. Sometimes if you don’t like what something is doing, you don’t find out until you’re in too deep anyway.
Not much I can do until I get in there and get a direct feel of what’s happening. Niles thought, thinking about how he couldn’t wait to see how comfortable the Rig was. He calmed himself and tried to decide what he was going to eat. That was one of the things he didn’t miss about the place. They served terrible food. Niles smiled as he walked, thinking about old jokes and recipes from the Rangers’ cookbook. I’ll have to make do. If I’m going to be here for a while, I might as well start getting used to it.
*****
“What do you think?” The Colonel asked. Zander shrugged. He had read the file on the Chief Warrant Officer 3. Niles De’Santes. He had been impressed by the man’s record and felt a significant bit of sympathy for what had happened to him. To Zander, Niles had looked confident and lost. There had been something primal within the man, lurking just behind his eyes when Zander looked at him.
“He is…a good fit. Whatever edge he’s lost, I’m sure he can find it again. He’s hungry for it.” Zander said. The Colonel chuckled, grinning like a shark whose prey was oblivious of the fate swimming towards it. He nodded.
“The man needs this. He would deny it if you ask, but his life revolved around the military. And it has nothing to do with patriotism. It has to do with purpose. People find what they think they were made for, and they don’t let go until it kills them.” The Colonel explained with a hint of sadness in his voice.
“That was why you…discharged him?” Zander asked hesitantly.
The Colonel turned to Zander and stared at the Sergeant for a while with a indiscernible look before shrugging.
“I discharged him because that was my job. He was a liability to himself and the mission. What good is a shooter who can’t shoot? I couldn’t miraculously conjure up a new leg for him, nor an arm.” Zander nodded. He stood up and gave a salute before turning to leave.
