“Don’t get too excited, it’s a temporary reprieve unless we can pull a rabbit out of a hat.”
“What good would that do us? Should I request a hat for you? Is your head cold?”
“Don’t worry about it. What we need is a Hail Mary, a miracle, a long shot. Do any of those mean anything to you?”
There was a pause. “We need to make a statistically unlikely outcome the only available option.”
“Exactly. How many factions do I have to fight?”
“10 if we include Blurgon, although it is unclear if they will participate.”
“Let’s assume they are. How am I going to survive a fight with 10 different factions if I can’t move the mech?”
“The odds of 10 simultaneous cardiac arrests is 0.00000000000006%” Ship’s Computer said helpfully.
“Let’s see if we can improve those odds a little more,” Josh said. “We just need to break it down.”
He grabbed his pen and scribbled down:
Problem #1: Can’t move mech unless qualified lawyer.
Problem #2: Can’t pass bar exam from prison.
Problem #3: Have to fight 10 other lawyers.
Problem #4: Mech is not permitted to have weapons.
“There has to be something we are missing,” he said, staring at the four problems.
“We are not. This problem is impossible. It will only take one or two hits from any of the available prosecutors to kill you. The mechs are not designed to protect fragile passengers, they were made to house physical shells that were easily discarded.”
“Could we convince the prosecutors not to attack?”
“Two or three of them, perhaps, but at the very least the Galactic Corp will strike you down to prevent you being a threat. I cannot recommend that you join the G.C., as it would violate my Alpha Protocol, but are you certain it is wise to refuse them? It would solve your current predicament.”
“It’s just trading one problem for a new one. What we need is a solution, something that gets us out from under the Galactic Corp’s boot once and for all.”
“I can see no such solution. Every permutation results in your demise, or me violating the Alpha Protocol, or both.”
Josh paced around the small cell, thinking through the problem. This was just like any other boss battle, there must be a weakness, a glowing orange spot he could aim at. He just needed to find it. “What we need is a decoy, a dummy version of me that we can stuff in the mech and let the G.C. blow up. Wait! That’s it!” He beamed with pride. How had the A.I. missed this? “Just make one of those clones of me, like the one you sent down to Earth. We will stuff that in there and presto, we are good to go.”
“Negative. The Galactic Corp have scans of you from when you were detained on their station. Clones cannot move without a pilot, and they would instantly see that the clone is using considerably more brainpower than you are. There is no pilot that is capable of replicating just how little of your brain…”
“I get it, no need to keep rubbing it in.” Josh looked around for something to kick, but the only thing available was his bed. He thought better of it; the last thing he needed was a broken toe to add to his problems. “Are we sure we have thought of everything? There has to be an angle we are missing, a loophole, or a trick no-one has thought of.”
“You would have to be very smart to find a way around a document written by dozens of lawyers,” said the A.I. with just a hint of admiration.
“Well then we had better get smart, and fast. We are running out of time.”
There was a commotion outside, and another familiar face walked into the room. It was Frag, and he was beaming. He was holding something behind his back.
“Josh! I have excellent news.”
“I hope so. I could use some good news right about now.”
Frag pulled a data pad from a bag and held it out so Josh could read it. Josh waited while the A.I. translated it for him:
This document certifies that the bearer has passed the required examinations to pilot a Level 1 Ticket Buster mech.
Josh read it through twice before smiling. “Holy crap, you passed the bar! Congratulations. That is good news. How did you do it?”
He pulled something else out from his bag. It looked a little like Josh’s controller, but it had been cobbled together from buttons and switches from a regular Mech Controller. It was also half the size, to better fit into Frag’s large hands. It looked like the kind of 3rd-party knock-off controller that you’d leave unplugged and let your little brother play with.
“Where did you get that?”
“I had it custom made by an M.C. designer. She said it was the easiest controller she’s ever built, only took her a couple of hours on account of the lack of buttons. She kept questioning the design, like I’d forgotten stuff. It wasn’t perfect, some of my combos weren’t quite right, but there wasn’t time to waste. I knew that if you could beat a level 4 Objector with one of these, then anything was possible. Teacher wasn’t very happy when he found out, but by then it was too late, I had already passed. He said I should have done it the proper way, instead of using shortcuts. The good news is, I never have to listen to him again. Besides, I had a reason to hurry. Now I can be your lawyer.”
Josh slumped. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple. I have to fight from inside the mech. There’s no room for you.”
Frag paused. “She didn’t tell you?”
“Who didn’t tell me what?”
There was a digital throat clearing in his ear and the Ship’s Computer said, “Frag is referring to a possible solution to your problem. I did not wish to say anything until Frag had successfully passed the bar exam.”
“You’ve been holding out on me, Cassandra!”
Frag said, “Who is Cassandra?”
“It’s a game we play.” Josh waited and finally sighed. “Ok fine, Computer, what’s the plan?”
“It comes with an element of risk, for both of you…” she said.
“Risk? So what? The alternative is certain death, how risky could it be?”
“Well, there is the small matter of brain damage.”
“Ok…”
“Or the total loss of your personality.”
“What?”
“And obviously the chance of your head exploding.”
“Stop. Please stop. Just tell me the plan, before I change my mind.”
“Changing your mind actually is the plan,” the Ship’s Computer said without a hint of humour.
“You’ve lost me again.”
“You recall how when we entered the law school, the scanner did not register your consciousness?”
“Yes. How could I forget? You won’t stop bloody mentioning it!” he said.
“I did some analysis of the scans. Your consciousness takes up so little space in your brain, but there is considerable storage capacity in there.”
Josh started to feel a little self-conscious about his big empty head. “What does this have to do with my current situation?”
“What if we were to find a way to fill all that empty space?”
“Fill it? With what?”
Frag waved back at him.
“Hold on? WHAT?”
***
The room that Gargle was dragged into was not as fancy as the rest of the casino. There were no flashing lights back here, just a single lightbulb dangling from a long wire. It swung back and forth, making the shadows move up and down the walls, which were pocked with large holes. A single, lonely chair, sat in a dark puddle in the centre of the room. The chair looked like it could tell the kind of stories that would give you nightmares for weeks, and it was there that Gargle was deposited with a thump.
Most of the large men left. Only the largest remained. He was as wide as he was tall, with a shaved head and a cheap suit that didn’t quite fit right. His mouth was curled up in a snarl and his eyes were squinted, as if trying to peer into Gargle’s soul.
“Has he said anything yet, Mr. Brick?”
said a high-pitched voice from behind Gargle.
The wide man shook his head and grunted. Gargle tried to turn his head to find the source of the voice, but that earned a growl from Mr. Brick and he decided he was fine looking straight ahead.
A woman stepped into view, tall and limber, with long blonde hair. She was wearing a full-length cocktail dress with a diamond necklace. A woman such as this did not belong in dank back rooms.
She waited for Gargle’s wandering eyes to settle on her face and smiled. “How old are you?”
Caitlin had been very clear on this one. “Eighteen,” Gargle blurted out.
“Bullshit. Show me your ID.”
“He didn’t have a wallet,” said Mr. Brick.
“How convenient. What do you think, does he look eighteen to you?”
Mr. Brick grunted incomprehensibly and the woman laughed. “I agree, I suppose we will just have to take his word for it. Give him the benefit of the doubt. We can’t have underage kids winning large sums of money here, what would the authorities say?”
“Precisely,” Gargle said, thinking as fast as he could manage. “It would create a lot of trouble for you.”
“You’re absolutely right,” the woman said. “Of course, it’s not a problem, because you’re definitely over eighteen.”
“Precisely,” Gargle repeated. Perhaps he could still get out of here with the chips.
“Mr. Brick, would you care to show our young friend here what we do to adults that cheat in my casino?”
The large man casually punched a large hole in the cement wall. As the debris crumbled to the ground, the woman leaned in closer. “I suggest you start talking. Tell me how you cheated.”
“Cheated? I did not break the rules of the game, I simply exploited the gaps in your system.”
The woman stood up abruptly, looming over him. “Gaps? What gaps?”
“Your card shuffling machine is not random. It follows a set pattern. After 18 shuffles it repeats.”
“Who told you that? How are you tracking the cards? Were you working with someone else?”
“No-one told me. I noticed it while playing.”
“You expect me to believe you memorized the order of 6 decks of cards 18 times before noticing that the pattern repeats? I know I look like a bimbo, but you don’t get to where I am by being a fool.”
“What is a bimbo?” Gargle asked, momentarily forgetting the situation he was in.
She threw her head back and cackled. “I have to hand it to you, you’re a cute kid. Shame you won’t be able to say that tomorrow.” She turned to Mr. Brick. “I’m going to pop out of the room now. See if you can persuade him to be a little more forthcoming with the truth.” She paused and then added, “Maybe stay away from the face, I don’t want any awkward questions from his parents.”
The woman strode out of the room like she was on a Paris catwalk. As soon as the door shut, Mr. Brick grinned. He took off his suit jacket and started rolling up his sleeves.
Gargle had been in enough fights to know that one was imminent, and he had no intention of sticking around to be steamrolled by Mr. Trucks-for-hands. Even his turbo healing would have a hard time keeping up with a couple of punches from this guy.
Gargle jumped up out of the seat and ran straight for the door, which stubbornly refused to open. Two very large hands grabbed him from behind, and casually tossed him back into the centre of the room, where he landed rather awkwardly next to the chair.
Mr. Brick picked him up off the floor until his feet were no longer touching the ground. He spoke in a hard to understand mumble, “No cameras in here, laddie. It’s just you and me.”
“Really?” That gave Gargle an idea. He remembered all the various reactions he’d elicited today and decided to kick it up a notch. With a tearing sound he ejected himself from the shell, forcing it to slump in the big guy’s hands. Mr. Brick shook the body, then slapped it hard in the face, before starting to panic. He lay the shell down and started pumping on its chest, stopping occasionally to breathe in its mouth.
“Oh crap!” he said. That’s when he finally looked up and noticed Gargle floating quietly in the air. He made a cross over his chest and muttered a prayer under his breath. He looked terrified, which was a nice reversal. Gargle took full advantage, by flying straight at him and yelling, “Boo!”
Mr. Brick took a swing at Gargle’s ethereal form, which did absolutely nothing. Then he tried to grab Gargle, but that didn’t work either. Gargle passed straight through him, but on the way he felt a strange sensation. Something was pulling him in. Before he knew what was happening he had been sucked directly into Mr. Brick’s head.
It was surprisingly empty inside, similar to a large cave or an abandoned factory. Gargle could feel the limbs, but they moved slowly, as if being dragged through a forcefield. Mr. Brick was resisting and trying to wrestle back control. He mentally tried to toss Gargle straight out of his head, but he was in Gargle’s world now, and here strength of will mattered more than muscles. In here Mr. Brick was an ant.
Instead of focusing on every limb, Gargle focused on the right arm. He released control of the others, causing Mr. Brick to wobble precariously, and then Gargle unleashed a savage uppercut on himself. It connected right below his chin, knocking out a tooth and rendering Mr. Brick immediately unconscious.
The shell remained standing, but only because Gargle was now in full control. He felt strong, much more than he ever had pretending to be Josh. This shell commanded respect. No-one would hit him, or push him around, or tell him what to do. Perhaps he could borrow it for a while? He would be much safer.
No, he couldn’t. He would fail his mission. He would have to abandon the Josh shell, and in this confined space there was nowhere to hide it. The pretty lady would find it and assume that Josh had died, and that would have serious consequences. Josh’s parents would be told that he was dead.
With some reluctance he tried to exit the shell, but found he couldn’t. He was stuck. It took a moment to realize why. A wisp of his ethereal form had entangled with the consciousness of Mr. Brick. He pulled and he pulled, but it remained stuck. There was only one thing for it, he was going to have to tear himself free. With considerable effort he heaved and twisted, until, with a loud ripping sound, he broke free of the shell and it slumped to the ground.
Gargle checked his ethereal form to see the damage that had been done. It was hard to tell the extent, but he’d definitely left a small piece of himself behind. One thing was certain, he was never going to possess a shell at the same time as its owner ever again, it was a truly terrible idea.
***
“That’s a great idea!” Josh said as the Ship’s Computer finished explaining the plan.
“It comes with considerable risks,” she added.
“Yeah yeah, but I get to control the mech right?”
“Theoretically. It is unclear how much control you will have of your own body with Frag also possessing your shell. It may only be partial.”
“Ok, so how do we test it out?” Josh asked, suddenly liking the plan a whole lot less. He didn’t want someone else driving him around like a meat puppet.
“We can’t. If the opposing lawyers know about this loophole it is likely they will close it before the trial. We must keep this a secret, which means doing it as close to the trial as possible to minimize the chance of anyone discovering our plan. That way the opposition will not be adequately prepared for you to fight back.”
Josh shook his head. “That’s not ideal. What if it doesn’t work?”
“There are no alternatives, so if this doesn’t work the outcome is the exact same. At this point the risk of being discovered outweighs the risk of this not working. I have run all the analysis I can, and believe with 84.9% certainty that Frag will be able to possess your shell at the same time you are occupying it.”
“I’ve learned my lesson, I’m not going to ask what might happen in the other 15%.”
“A wise decision. Perhaps there
is hope for you yet. Let’s just make sure we don’t do it in a carpeted area. There is one minor point that I must mention.”
“What is it?”
“It is extremely important that Frag does not leave your shell at any point during the trial. If he does, Josh will be an unauthorized user again, and the Galactic Corp or any of the other factions would have grounds for a retrial.”
“Got it. Stick together, literally, or I’m screwed.”
“Affirmative. I believe that solves our first problem, leaving only the second problem remaining,” said the Ship’s Computer.
Frag jumped in. “What is the second problem?”
Josh answered before the Computer could. “The law states that the defending party may not have any weapons equipped in this trial. Our mech will be unarmed.”
“What? Why?”
“Probably because we aren’t supposed to be able to pilot the mech. There’s not much sense in having weapons equipped if you’re just going to trash the mech anyway. Sounds like a waste of resources.”
“It is more than that,” the Computer said. “Simply put they very much do not want you to win. There is the faintest hint of fairness, of poetic justice as Josh’s species calls it, but the end goal of this trial is absolutely to teach a lesson to everyone else that mechs are off limits, and only lawyers can pilot them. If you were to somehow win, that would effectively set a precedent that challenges that particular law, which is the primary reason that every faction will send a lawyer to participate in the trial. Nobody wants to leave it up to the others to ensure that the lawyer qualifications stay in place. Their very careers depend on it. If anyone could pilot a mech, then we wouldn’t need lawyers anymore.”
“Ha, can you imagine a world without lawyers!” Frag said with a chuckle. Josh was starting to, and he liked where it was going.
“So how are we going to get around that law?” Frag asked.
“Not sure yet. We’ll probably have to improvise. The law says we can’t have weapons equipped when we start, it doesn’t say anything about acquiring weapons,” said Josh with a wink.
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