Warrior- Integration

by David Hallquist

  God. Not that. Not the murder-lab. Not again. How do I stop it?

  “Everyone who can move,” I shout, “you need to get out of here. I think that was all of them, but I can’t be sure. Leave if you can move.” That will save some of them, I hope.

  Questions and demands are shouted at me, almost drowned out by the screams of pain and the buzzing klaxons. There’s no time; I need to keep moving.

  I grab the small blaster from the killer’s headless corpse. The barrel’s magnetic rings and flash suppressor are still faintly glowing. It’s an unusual weapon for a hired killer; maybe it can tell me something about who they are. I access the personal computer network I’m wearing; it looks like only two computers of my array were destroyed in the grenade blast. I activate my network’s jamming to cancel any tracking signals, and I have my computers start hacking into the gun’s computers.

  The man’s ugly mug fills the vision of my glasses. He looks better without his head. “Ivor Volak, Professional Revolutionary.” So, killers for hire. Not a professional team, but whatever space scum they could sweep together for a hit. The good news is that they won’t have the teamwork a pro military unit would have. The bad news is that they can spend killers like belted ammo until they get a lucky hit on me.

  The weapon was only keyed for the one killer, so I reconfigure it to fire without recognition. I also turn off all the tracking systems. It’s got about half its blast gas and energy, so I grab the man’s remaining gas cylinders and energy cells. They could come in handy.

  Time to go. Police and emergency services will be here soon. Then the next wave of killers will come, looking for my trail.

  As I leave, I’m confronted by Sharron’s ghost.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 39

  Luna is haunted by ghosts. While they are everywhere, you find them mostly in the big cities like Shackleton, concentrated around the law firms and company towers. Mostly they take care of affairs after death—wills, estates, or corporate continuance. Sometimes they take care of other business after death—completing a project, a work of art, helping to raise a child, or just being a reminder left behind for a grieving family. Sometimes the purpose is darker. Vengeful ghosts aren’t just a myth.

  The computer-generated image of Sharron in my shades certainly looks like her. She acts like Sharron, stands in the same way, and even has the same arch to her eyebrow. It’s eerie, like seeing the ghost of someone who is dead. These programs have gotten really, really good. People used to wonder what would happen when you couldn’t tell a ghost program from a live human being. I think we may already be there.

  She must have set the program to download into my array in the event of her death. Who knows? Maybe she was pre-loaded when I got the array from her armorer. Either way, she’s got my attention.

  My array is hooked into all my hardware, including my weapons. Let’s just say that a power cell overload in my weapons would leave a big, steaming mess where I’m standing. Thank God, I don’t have cybernetic implants.

  As I watch her form in my shades, I quickly make my way out the door, pulling on my mask. I enter the misty tunnels of Hades. The emergency vehicles are coming, but slowly. They’ll not want to rush too much; they want any real trouble to be gone. They don’t want to drive into an ambush. It will take them time to force their way through the crowded tunnels and past the small stands and other obstructions all along these narrow passages.

  By then I will be long gone. I know these tunnels—where to hide, who to work with, and who not to. I can disappear here and hear trouble coming long before it gets to me. I’ll be able to pick my time and place to meet trouble, so when it finds me, it’ll wish it hadn’t.

  Still, hiding won’t stop the killers coming after me. It won’t stop the experiments in the murder-lab. The main reason I can’t hide here forever is simpler, more primal. I’m a hunter, so I’m going to find these scum and take them down.

  Soon, I get to a misty alleyway, well out of sight. The damp darkness of the mists hides my thermal signature, and the mild toxins in the air will discourage the curious. Time to have our conversation. Her image follows, then sits in an illusory chair.

  “Sharron, you’re looking good,” I sub-vocalize. I don’t quite speak; no one but my array can hear my replies.

  “I’ve been better.” She sighs; it’s still fun to watch. She crosses her legs and leans forward on the spectral chair.

  “Brandt, you will only see this if I am dead, so we both know I’m not running things down here anymore. It’s going to get rough in Hades, but you don’t need me to tell you that. Big companies go through mergers and acquisitions, but down here, things change in gang wars. These are my lieutenants who I’ve transferred my funds and information to, my designated heirs.” The images of some familiar gangsters float in my sight. None of them were directly under her. Either she didn’t trust the people directly under her, or they are dead.

  “I’ve picked them because Hades would be less of a mess under them than under most of the gangs out there, and because they haven’t managed to deeply offend me. The best among them will take it all.”

  Come on, ghost, get to the part I care about.

  “But let me get to the part you care about.” She holds up her hands, and a series of encoded files appear. “Here is the information that led to my death. The raid on my place wasn’t just to kill you, it was to kill me and destroy this information. It was also to serve as a warning to others about not poking into the affairs of their betters. The information in here can help you find the men behind all of this, the people who are hunting you. Additionally, I have encrypted accounts to help fund you, locations of safe-houses, and false identities. I only want one thing in return, vengeance.”

  “Best offer I’ve had all night,” I sub-vocalize.

  The files open. “Singularity,” an outfit operating from Terra, with tentacles into a whole bunch of Lunar research firms. That makes sense. Everyone with a brain left Terra, so they have to stay ahead somehow. This is a big deal, though. With all these different links and shell-companies, it looks like the big boys down the gravity well are making a real play.

  The State of Terra. What’s their game? I left Earth to get away from that game, and now I’m back in it. It’s followed me to Luna and then down here to Hades.

  “I’ll take care of these guys, Sharron. Don’t worry,” I whisper back.

  Sharron’s ghost smiles and fades slowly away.

  “Goodbye, Sharron. We had some good times.” And some not so good times. Honestly, I half thought her ghost was going to kill me. It’s a relief to see the ghost fade away.

  “Don’t worry,” I hear her voice. “I’ll maintain a background presence in your systems for the duration of your task.”

  Great. I’ve got a vengeful ghost haunting my systems. Just…great.

  * * * * *

  Part Six: Ascent

  Chapter 40

  Lu’s is a place of last resort.

  I’ve been here before when it’s all gone bad, so it’s not a big surprise when I arrive at the back entrance by an access tunnel. I know they can see me in the cameras, and I know damn well they can hear me pounding at the hatch.

  Still nothing. They’re leaving me out here, in the trash-strewn back tunnels.

  “Lu!” I shout. “Open up! It’s me!”

  Realizing I’m not going away, they try talking. A dim, cracked panel flickers to life. There is a synthesized face, long and thin; his computer generated expression is a lot more confident than his real voice sounds. “Brandt, beat it.”

  “Open up, Lu. You still owe me. I just need a place to crash for a few days, then you’ll never see me again.”

  “I’d already hoped I’d never see you again. There’s a lot of heat in the tunnels right now. I can’t be sure what’s following you.”

  “Lu, I want you to think about something. Imagine me forcing my way in or raising hell out here. Want to bet the trouble you’re worried about
will just ignore that?”

  “Alright, Brandt. Two days only. Terran not Lunar.”

  The hatch slides up, and yellow light floods the tunnel. It looked better in the dark. I make my way into Lu’s den, and the hatch closes behind me.

  The place is a dump, as always. Films from food packets are everywhere, stains from water and other fluids pattern the walls, and piles of trash and contraband are stacked in corners. Halls go in three directions, with lots of old, corroded hatches leading to private rooms. This place was a nice hotel in the old days, before the lower levels were abandoned.

  Lu is a tall and weedy-looking Lunar, with long, lanky hair dyed in shifting colors and holographic clothes hanging loosely on his thin frame. He’s gained some new scars and cybernetics since I last saw him. He’s also a lot more scared than last time. That makes sense; he knows me after all.

  “Brandt, you can’t just burst into my place like this!” He flails his long arms around. “I’ve got lots of customers; you could compromise my position!”

  “Cool down, Lu. I just need a place with some privacy for a bit.” I’ll need to wait for the high-intensity search to pass. Right now, the tunnels will be filling with hired muscle—bought cops, robots, and search agents. All that costs money and needs to be justified. Eventually, it’ll die down, and then all I’ll have to worry about will be street informers, nano-snoopers, and a few hired detectives. I might be able to sneak past them.

  “What about the danger you bring to my other customers?”

  It’s a fair question. “They aren’t going to see me; no one is. I wasn’t followed, and I’m clean of nano-snoopers. I’m not going to leave my room, and I’ll keep the hatch sealed. There aren’t going to be any communications in or out. So, Lu, if anyone discovers I’m here…” I lean forward, and he flinches. “Who do you think is to blame?”

  “Fine! Room 34. Two days only!” He points down the hall.

  “Thanks.” Good old Lu. Almost as trustworthy as a snake.

  I grab an armful of food packets and water and go down the hall. I make my way into the cluttered room, sealing and locking the hatch behind me. The room is a dump, of course, but I’ve been in worse.

  Right away, I get to work with my code breakers, changing the codes on the door, and overriding the sensor net Lu installed to spy on his customers. Then, I sweep my clothes for nano-bugs and tracers, wiping them out with static blasts. It also looks like all the holes and burned cloth on my suit are healing up nicely. Gotta love smart cloth.

  It takes about an hour to fully apply the dermal symbionts and program them into a new face. In the mirror, I look exactly like one of my newly activated identities. So far, so good.

  I lied about no exterior computer access, of course. There just won’t be any Lu can detect. It’s too dangerous to send out search programs right now; I don’t want any possible traces back to me. I use the code breakers to monitor Lu’s communications outside and set up a silent alarm to signal my array if anyone tries my hatch.

  I break down my weapons and hide the pieces under my smart cloth. The new energy pattern programmed into my clothes should hide the components from a minor sensor scan. Except for the needler, I’ll sleep with that under my pillow.

  Now I’ll see if I can grab some sleep in this viper’s nest.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 41

  The dreams of drowning, being buried alive, torture, and endless darkness are new ones. They take their place in the parade with the nightmares of smoking battlefields.

  My alarm buzzes silently, waking me. Someone is at the door. Lu knows that “do not disturb” means “or else.” Someone with a death wish is breaking into my room.

  I don’t move or stir as the hatch opens silently. There is no light in the hall. They hacked the lock with ease. That means pro gear. Bad news. I’m supposed to be asleep, so I act like it.

  He steps over. Just one here, but another is in the hall. He gets closer, bad breath and all. He pauses, considers, and…turns to go. My disguise worked.

  I rise up, pulling the nano-wire from my ring. I can see his back and bald head as I stretch the invisible, molecule-thin wire around his neck.

  The only sounds are his feet kicking the floor and the splashing of hot blood. There’s so much of it, everywhere—on the floor, on the walls, on me. I’ve severed both arteries and the spinal column in one go.

  I lower his corpse gently to the floor and grab his knife, leaving his guns. It’s a wicked-looking, serrated, diamond blade that looks like it could go through anything. The other one is just coming in now, checking out the faint noise. He steps into the room…

  The blade slides in under his sternum, and I thrust upward, severing his heart and breastbone. He goes into convulsions as I continue to drive it upward through his jaw, into his brain.

  I pull both bodies inside before shutting the hatch. Good thing none of the blood got in the hall. OK, it looks like a two-man team for now. A quick check of their cards shows typical tunnel toughs—trouble for hire. Sharron cracks their cards immediately but finds nothing about who hired them. Just another anonymous killing, no questions asked.

  I strip and wash off the blood. Nothing stains smart cloth. The blood washes right off, and as I program in a new style, my clothes slowly change before my eyes. With my gear and weapons on, I’m ready to go. This time, I wear the cloak, goggles, and mask; no point in anyone seeing me leave in my new disguise.

  Lu set me up, of course. I knew he was a snake; I shouldn’t be surprised he acted like a snake. I thought the old times, and what I’d done for him, might have meant something. Apparently not. Still, it bought me needed time and confirmed I cannot go to any of my old contacts ever again.

  I open the hatch and glide down the halls. There is a third man by the back door—a tall, lanky, young man trying to grow a beard nervously holding a laser pistol. Sorry, kid, you chose the wrong line of work. I set the needler on sleep-toxin and fire a three round burst into his cheek.

  He gives a short cry and slides down the wall, feebly trying to pull out the cluster of darts. I wonder if I did him a favor by saving his life. His employers won’t be too happy with him, but maybe he’ll live. Get out of this life, kid; you won’t get lucky the next time.

  I hear someone coming and move into the deeper shadows. The lights come on, and Lu gasps in surprise.

  I stand up and point the needler at Lu’s exposed neck.

  “Brandt!” he gasps, sweating and raising his hands, wide eyes darting around for escape. “I didn’t know! I mean, it wasn’t me! I’m…glad you’re OK.”

  He can’t see that my face has changed under the mask. Good. “Lu, I just want to know one thing. Why? Was it the money?”

  “Money?! No!” He shakes his head. “All of Hades is after you. There is something big behind this. This is bigger than any gang. I didn’t have any choice! Not against them! You have to believe me, Brandt!” Lu puts on his most pathetic expression. “Brandt, you believe me, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I kind of do.” I’d wondered if Lu was ruled more by greed or cowardice. Now I know. I give him two in the face. He gasps, takes the needles out, and slumps down the wall. “For old time’s sake, Lu.”

  I’ll let him live. When they find him, will they think he cooperated with me? If so, he’s in for a rough time. Screw him. That’s his problem; he’s used up all my favors.

  The code breakers make short work of the hatch locks, and I turn out the lights and glide into the dark tunnels.

  I move slowly at first, making sure none of the team is watching the tunnels. It seems clear; the tunnels are quiet, and all the people out there should be there. I know this neighborhood. It’s kind of a shame this will be the last time I’m ever here.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 42

  There aren’t a lot of people out and about. The shooting at Sharron’s stirred things up. The tension comes off the tunnel walls in waves—gangs getting ready to decide who will be the next on
top. Then there are the Lunar police patrols and drones. A lot of topsiders got hit in that shoot-up, and the police are out in force. It makes the air thick with suspicion.

  A police disc drone hums to a stop, floating by my head. The small drone interrogates my network and seems to accept my false ID.

  “Remove your mask. Facial coverings are prohibited at this time.” The drone’s automated voice sounds like a Lunar, but has no emotion. Sure, they could make it sound human, but people wouldn’t find that intimidating enough.

  I take off the mask. The drone hovers in front of my face like a giant mechanical hornet. Then it flies away.

  Looks like my disguise passes, matching my ID. It also looks like the drone didn’t discover my needler or my disguised weapons. None of that will stand up to a real search and scan, though.

  The drones are just looking for troublemakers or any large, dangerous gatherings. Police will be all over the main exits, checking everyone who is leaving. Getting past them will be a whole new level of risk.

  That means taking the back ways up. Hades would collapse without its smuggling networks and tunnels. They are available to anyone for the right price. Well, almost anyone. Right now, I’ve got enough heat on me, they would turn me in in a second. My disguise and ID will get a real check.

  The tunnels get darker and more abandoned as I make my way to one of those hidden ways up. I can feel the eyes looking at me from the shadows, human and electronic. Every detail is being recorded by everyone, and all information is up for sale. Soon, once the questions start, all of Hades will rush to sell every detail of what they saw. I’ll have to lose this ID and get a new one topside.

  Here it is. An old, corroded hatch hides the underworld’s superhighway to the surface settlements. The two men normally on watch have been strengthened by four boosted gangsters. With everything going on, they aren’t taking any chances. They will be on the lookout for anyone too desperate to leave the lower levels. Someone too desperate to leave is a danger; soon, whoever is after them will come after anyone who helped in the escape. Anyone like that will get sold out or quietly killed and stuffed into a recycler. They look me over as I approach; it’s too late to back down now.