CHAPTER 2
PARALLEL: DROP FROM THE DEEP BLACK
The Lear shuttle dropped from the deep black of space into a pallid night sky, gray and winking over the city. Its thunder wake rumbled and sent echoes recoiling off the sharp peaks of towers and skyscrapers. A quick witchfire of ionized gas flared off its sleek form as it slid, shark like, and darted south. Another twitch, and it plunged down into those canyons of glass & steel, threading past the looming offices, industrial units, and row after row of cheap hab-blocks, shivering windows behind it. Knots of late night traffic scattered before it, massive cargo transports shifted, yielding the right of way as the shuttle arrowed closer to restricted airspace.
Within a few minutes it passed into the exclusive districts, turning back its engines so only the merest edge of turbulence shuddered behind it. Now, approved ID codes cleared the way, and one by one by one, missile locks blinked off. On cue, the craft settled onto the landing pad deep inside the Dawson-Hull corporate estates and Senior Arbiter Avery Hsiang strode down the landing ramp and stood before his security escort.
--------------------
PULLING THE TIGER’S TAIL
Crouched outside the light cone, I could make out the name plate on the next building: ‘E.C.I. Research. Labs 5-7‘. Euro-Cybernetics Integrated is the lead bio-tech division of the Dawson-Hull Conglomerate, and the “D-H. ‘glom” is one of the Seven: the huge multinationals who run Earth now. The Seven hold U.N. seats, adhere to separate legal systems, even have corporate citizenship for their employees. They maintain offices in every nation, space station, and colony in the solar system, and UN law, along with their private security forces, insure territorial sovereignty for all corporate facilities. This was serious trespass on an alien world.
It got better though; Tam and I figured the A-PAC were the ones behind tonight’s little smash & grab; the contract came through their usual cut outs anyway. Another of the Seven, the Asian Pacific Hegemony was headquartered in old Japan, and we were little ninja thieves for this job. You see, “covert asset acquisition” is just legal-speak for breaking & entering; there was something in this facility they wanted, and Tam Song Associates was sent to fetch it. So our dubious crew of chipless illegals, most ex-military, all with criminal records, were wandering through a mega-corp’s secure installation in the middle of the night looking to nick a bit of top secret tech . We weren’t just pulling a tiger’s tail; we were in the middle of two of them, kicking one in the balls. Hell of a way to make a living.
The mission brief alleged that D-H had developed an operating N3: a Nanotech Neural Network. Nanotech had mind blowing possibilities for every facet of life. The one small problem was the human body rejected the artificial atomic machines, so except for the simplest medical applications, nano-research had made nothing but bloated monsters and shriveled corpses. An N3 was a biological/cybernetic interface system that operated on the cellular level. Poet9 had a military grade brain box wet-wired to his cortex. Grafted to his head, he could interface the Net 20 times faster that your average console jockey. An N3 would a 1000 times faster, all invisible inside a human host. If this was real, it was a quantum shift. One that changed everything. Forever.
Every couple of years the Newsnets would flash some geek team of lab coats claiming to have found the Holy Grail, but it always flatlined. This time there were no Net specials or glossy PR packages; just traces between the lines of looted data still sticky with blood. But this time someone at A-PAC had gotten wind of it and converted to a true believer. Whatever was going down spooked the A-PAC hard, because they were gambling everything; hemorrhaging hundreds of millions in credits, providing proprietary schematics, classified security codes, authorizing huge completion bonuses, even risking global exposure and UN censure. This time, some Daimyo figured it was real, and hired us. And to think, we were making history.
The contract downlink assumed the D-H Conglomerate was in their final test phase, and they’d selected this smaller facility to complete it. They made a big show at their main labs in Brussels, locking them down tight in a classic misinformation game. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary here - just the standard security for a class 9 complex. Inside the labs might be a different matter, but the report suddenly got sketchy there. And that’s just where Tam and I headed, clambering up the heating units onto the roof to the access panel some informant tagged as unprotected.
We crouched unmoving, two knots of nothing as the security patrol passed beneath us. Sensor lights on the hulking Cerberus sentry ‘bot winked steadily as it shuffled by, and the guard never even glanced up. We were up and moving as they turned the corner, and in a few quick motions, the panel was off and we slid into the interior gloom.
Once in the Maintenance crawl, Tam got on the micro-bead. “Poet? We’re in and moving. We’ll secure the hall into R & D. Give us a minute, then we’ll need you right behind us for the override.”
“Loud & clear. I want to set some spider mines. Pop goes the weasel on these ’Glom bastards if they come a running.“ his voice crackled back.
“No, leave the mines - that’s what the Triplets are for, remember? Just wait there until I say. Tam, out.”
A grunt and double click cut off. Tam peered at me for a second then shook his head. I just smiled back. “At least he tries.”
“At least he’s good in the Grid.” He tapped the display on his forearm pad, “Let’s move.”
We fast crawled along the ceiling struts following cable bundles and vent ducts toward the restricted area making sure to leave IR marks for Poet. I kept switching between the drone feed over the facility, and the building blueprints on my left eye HUD. Not that it mattered really. Eyes on the prize. No worry, just focus. Poet 9’s data hack back in the guard station put two badges at the only junction leading into the Restricted area. The third was making rounds checking doors. We’d have to cross them off and get him in to bypass the security and seal all other access. We had 27 minutes left.
Light filtered up through the grate into the cramped darkness as we approached the point marked “D wing” on our displays. A quick drop, then 14 meters down a hall to the main and only entrance to the secure labs. If there was trouble, here is where it’d be waiting.
On cue, Poet9’s voice whispered in our ears. “Problem. Datastream from the security node shows a bio-ware link in that zone net. And it’s mobile. I’m guessing the lead guard on each shift is wet wired to the security system - probably linked to heartbeat or brainwaves and coded to his RFID. Pretty smart for the ’Glom. That guy goes offline for any reason and it’s total lockdown, with every drone & clone in 50 klicks maxing on full auto. You have to find him. And keep him alive.”
“Great. Just. Great.”, Tam said. We lifted the grate and dropped down onto the hall carpet.
PARALLEL: SHOPLIFTERS London, England. New European Union. 03:40 hours
Avery Hsiang caught himself staring at the carpet when he realized the man across from him had stopped speaking. He stood up casually, then leaned over the massive black conference table and smiled a very thin smile. “Here we are back at the start - again - Mr. MacKinnon. How many times must I repeat myself? Asian Pacific Hegemony denies any complicity in the recent intrusions in your London facility. It is that simple.”
“Our sources indicate those mercenaries were associated with your company and had been in your employ previously on numerous occasions. It is obvious-”
“It is obvious,” Avery cut in, “your ‘sources’ confirm only what you wish to hear. Why suspect us? You invoke confidential protocols and demand a meeting in the middle of the night only to vent anger and these preposterous accusations. Our companies have shared several profitable joint ventures in the past. What of the Americans? Your successes in their Argentinean markets must offend them. You know how territorial they are. Perhaps this clumsy burgling is their way of lashing out at you.” Avery Hsiang smoothed down the puckered silk of his coat sleeve. “From your description, the attempt seems rather continental to me.” He sat down again and let his gaze travel over the rich wood paneled walls of the conference room, conjuring a mildly irritated look on his face.
“The ‘attempt’,” Jackson MacKinnon spat, ’ penetrated much further than normal and their equipment was far too sophisticated for simple shoplifters. Nothing vital was taken, of course,” he waved a hand, “but their presence that far inside our facility betrays a certain level of privileged intelligence.”
Avery ignored the last statement and raised his hands toward the rival Arbiter, “Well, if nothing critical was compromised, why am I here? To waste time and offend us?” he paused. “Or is there something further? Do you require our assistance in some matter? These thieves, these spies… they were all killed, were they not?”
Avery knew full well the Sprawl scum had been eliminated; his agents confirmed it. He’d also been assured it was an utterly sterile operation; not one shred of tissue or scrap of equipment could be traced back to his company. MacKinnon had nothing and they both knew it. Outwardly, he waited for a response, looking patiently at his frayed counterpart who could only glare back. Inwardly, Avery’s mind leapt that his suspicions had been correct: the N3 was real! Otherwise why would Dawson-Hull react so swiftly, demanding an immediate face to face conference? They are scared, Avery thought, scared that we now have their prototype. He glanced down at his watch. In fact, he said to himself, we just might by now.
“No?” he continued smoothly, looking back up. “We both know mercenaries have no loyalty beyond their fees. They are hirelings. Whores who perform for money. I promise you Mr. MacKinnon, first thing in the morning I will relay this information and your concerns to the appropriate department. I will say again however, Asian Pacific prides itself in the skills and dedication that render such dishonorable practices irrelevant. Even if extreme necessity demanded it, my company would never contract such amateurs.”
Jackson MacKinnon rose to his feet. “Avery, our investigators are going to sift through every speck of evidence. Forensics experts arrive from Brussels tomorrow, and the Board has granted me full authority in this case.” He snapped his briefcase shut. “We will find the perpetrators Avery, and reprisals will be severe.” He let that hang in the air over the polished obsidian table.
Avery Hsiang shrugged, “I trust your forensics teams are a bit more accurate than your usual ‘sources’, Jackson. We certainly regret the disturbing incident that prompted such an urgent meeting. I assure you, my company stands willing to assist you in apprehending the criminals. The problem of illegals is a concern for every corporation. But, it is the middle of the night - now if you‘ll excuse me, Mr. MacKinnon.” He picked his case up from the floor and nodded to the bodyguard standing against the paneled wall behind him. Together they left the conference room in silence.
Only when A-PAC Senior Arbiter Avery Hsiang was seated, and felt the steady thrum of the Lear’s twin engines in the deep leather did he permit another smile. He leaned forward and hit one of the buttons on the armrest.
“Are they in the air yet?”
Lead Arbiter Jackson MacKinnon stood at the window staring as the A-PAC shuttle jumped straight up, then darted off. He considered the twin flares of the Lear’s receding engines for a long time, until night finally swallowed them up. For several moments, nothing moved. Then, “I want a lock down. Offices, factories, everything. Notify the Board, of course. But all corporate facilities go to high alert. All of them. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir. Immediately” the man turned to leave.
“Sergeant?“ A full stop. “And send two units to ECI in Toulouse. S.D. Bureau 3.”
“Sir?”
Jackson MacKinnon paused, then turned slowly to face the man, now at rigid attention and repeated in a slow, low voice, “I said, I want two Special Deployment units. At the ECI Labs. In Toulouse. Now. Major Eames will lead personally. Tell her they’re to seal the facility. Maximum Sanction. I will brief her en route with the particulars.”
“Yes sir. Immediately, sir”
Jackson MacKinnon turned back to his reflection in the huge armor glass window and stood perfectly still.
The Lear shuttle dropped from the deep black of space into a pallid night sky, gray and winking over the city. Its thunder wake rumbled and sent echoes recoiling off the sharp peaks of towers and skyscrapers. A quick witchfire of ionized gas flared off its sleek form as it slid, shark like, and darted south. Another twitch, and it plunged down into those canyons of glass & steel, threading past the looming offices, industrial units, and row after row of cheap hab-blocks, shivering windows behind it. Knots of late night traffic scattered before it, massive cargo transports shifted, yielding the right of way as the shuttle arrowed closer to restricted airspace.
Within a few minutes it passed into the exclusive districts, turning back its engines so only the merest edge of turbulence shuddered behind it. Now, approved ID codes cleared the way, and one by one by one, missile locks blinked off. On cue, the craft settled onto the landing pad deep inside the Dawson-Hull corporate estates and Senior Arbiter Avery Hsiang strode down the landing ramp and stood before his security escort.
--------------------
PULLING THE TIGER’S TAIL
Crouched outside the light cone, I could make out the name plate on the next building: ‘E.C.I. Research. Labs 5-7‘. Euro-Cybernetics Integrated is the lead bio-tech division of the Dawson-Hull Conglomerate, and the “D-H. ‘glom” is one of the Seven: the huge multinationals who run Earth now. The Seven hold U.N. seats, adhere to separate legal systems, even have corporate citizenship for their employees. They maintain offices in every nation, space station, and colony in the solar system, and UN law, along with their private security forces, insure territorial sovereignty for all corporate facilities. This was serious trespass on an alien world.
It got better though; Tam and I figured the A-PAC were the ones behind tonight’s little smash & grab; the contract came through their usual cut outs anyway. Another of the Seven, the Asian Pacific Hegemony was headquartered in old Japan, and we were little ninja thieves for this job. You see, “covert asset acquisition” is just legal-speak for breaking & entering; there was something in this facility they wanted, and Tam Song Associates was sent to fetch it. So our dubious crew of chipless illegals, most ex-military, all with criminal records, were wandering through a mega-corp’s secure installation in the middle of the night looking to nick a bit of top secret tech . We weren’t just pulling a tiger’s tail; we were in the middle of two of them, kicking one in the balls. Hell of a way to make a living.
The mission brief alleged that D-H had developed an operating N3: a Nanotech Neural Network. Nanotech had mind blowing possibilities for every facet of life. The one small problem was the human body rejected the artificial atomic machines, so except for the simplest medical applications, nano-research had made nothing but bloated monsters and shriveled corpses. An N3 was a biological/cybernetic interface system that operated on the cellular level. Poet9 had a military grade brain box wet-wired to his cortex. Grafted to his head, he could interface the Net 20 times faster that your average console jockey. An N3 would a 1000 times faster, all invisible inside a human host. If this was real, it was a quantum shift. One that changed everything. Forever.
Every couple of years the Newsnets would flash some geek team of lab coats claiming to have found the Holy Grail, but it always flatlined. This time there were no Net specials or glossy PR packages; just traces between the lines of looted data still sticky with blood. But this time someone at A-PAC had gotten wind of it and converted to a true believer. Whatever was going down spooked the A-PAC hard, because they were gambling everything; hemorrhaging hundreds of millions in credits, providing proprietary schematics, classified security codes, authorizing huge completion bonuses, even risking global exposure and UN censure. This time, some Daimyo figured it was real, and hired us. And to think, we were making history.
The contract downlink assumed the D-H Conglomerate was in their final test phase, and they’d selected this smaller facility to complete it. They made a big show at their main labs in Brussels, locking them down tight in a classic misinformation game. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary here - just the standard security for a class 9 complex. Inside the labs might be a different matter, but the report suddenly got sketchy there. And that’s just where Tam and I headed, clambering up the heating units onto the roof to the access panel some informant tagged as unprotected.
We crouched unmoving, two knots of nothing as the security patrol passed beneath us. Sensor lights on the hulking Cerberus sentry ‘bot winked steadily as it shuffled by, and the guard never even glanced up. We were up and moving as they turned the corner, and in a few quick motions, the panel was off and we slid into the interior gloom.
Once in the Maintenance crawl, Tam got on the micro-bead. “Poet? We’re in and moving. We’ll secure the hall into R & D. Give us a minute, then we’ll need you right behind us for the override.”
“Loud & clear. I want to set some spider mines. Pop goes the weasel on these ’Glom bastards if they come a running.“ his voice crackled back.
“No, leave the mines - that’s what the Triplets are for, remember? Just wait there until I say. Tam, out.”
A grunt and double click cut off. Tam peered at me for a second then shook his head. I just smiled back. “At least he tries.”
“At least he’s good in the Grid.” He tapped the display on his forearm pad, “Let’s move.”
We fast crawled along the ceiling struts following cable bundles and vent ducts toward the restricted area making sure to leave IR marks for Poet. I kept switching between the drone feed over the facility, and the building blueprints on my left eye HUD. Not that it mattered really. Eyes on the prize. No worry, just focus. Poet 9’s data hack back in the guard station put two badges at the only junction leading into the Restricted area. The third was making rounds checking doors. We’d have to cross them off and get him in to bypass the security and seal all other access. We had 27 minutes left.
Light filtered up through the grate into the cramped darkness as we approached the point marked “D wing” on our displays. A quick drop, then 14 meters down a hall to the main and only entrance to the secure labs. If there was trouble, here is where it’d be waiting.
On cue, Poet9’s voice whispered in our ears. “Problem. Datastream from the security node shows a bio-ware link in that zone net. And it’s mobile. I’m guessing the lead guard on each shift is wet wired to the security system - probably linked to heartbeat or brainwaves and coded to his RFID. Pretty smart for the ’Glom. That guy goes offline for any reason and it’s total lockdown, with every drone & clone in 50 klicks maxing on full auto. You have to find him. And keep him alive.”
“Great. Just. Great.”, Tam said. We lifted the grate and dropped down onto the hall carpet.
PARALLEL: SHOPLIFTERS London, England. New European Union. 03:40 hours
Avery Hsiang caught himself staring at the carpet when he realized the man across from him had stopped speaking. He stood up casually, then leaned over the massive black conference table and smiled a very thin smile. “Here we are back at the start - again - Mr. MacKinnon. How many times must I repeat myself? Asian Pacific Hegemony denies any complicity in the recent intrusions in your London facility. It is that simple.”
“Our sources indicate those mercenaries were associated with your company and had been in your employ previously on numerous occasions. It is obvious-”
“It is obvious,” Avery cut in, “your ‘sources’ confirm only what you wish to hear. Why suspect us? You invoke confidential protocols and demand a meeting in the middle of the night only to vent anger and these preposterous accusations. Our companies have shared several profitable joint ventures in the past. What of the Americans? Your successes in their Argentinean markets must offend them. You know how territorial they are. Perhaps this clumsy burgling is their way of lashing out at you.” Avery Hsiang smoothed down the puckered silk of his coat sleeve. “From your description, the attempt seems rather continental to me.” He sat down again and let his gaze travel over the rich wood paneled walls of the conference room, conjuring a mildly irritated look on his face.
“The ‘attempt’,” Jackson MacKinnon spat, ’ penetrated much further than normal and their equipment was far too sophisticated for simple shoplifters. Nothing vital was taken, of course,” he waved a hand, “but their presence that far inside our facility betrays a certain level of privileged intelligence.”
Avery ignored the last statement and raised his hands toward the rival Arbiter, “Well, if nothing critical was compromised, why am I here? To waste time and offend us?” he paused. “Or is there something further? Do you require our assistance in some matter? These thieves, these spies… they were all killed, were they not?”
Avery knew full well the Sprawl scum had been eliminated; his agents confirmed it. He’d also been assured it was an utterly sterile operation; not one shred of tissue or scrap of equipment could be traced back to his company. MacKinnon had nothing and they both knew it. Outwardly, he waited for a response, looking patiently at his frayed counterpart who could only glare back. Inwardly, Avery’s mind leapt that his suspicions had been correct: the N3 was real! Otherwise why would Dawson-Hull react so swiftly, demanding an immediate face to face conference? They are scared, Avery thought, scared that we now have their prototype. He glanced down at his watch. In fact, he said to himself, we just might by now.
“No?” he continued smoothly, looking back up. “We both know mercenaries have no loyalty beyond their fees. They are hirelings. Whores who perform for money. I promise you Mr. MacKinnon, first thing in the morning I will relay this information and your concerns to the appropriate department. I will say again however, Asian Pacific prides itself in the skills and dedication that render such dishonorable practices irrelevant. Even if extreme necessity demanded it, my company would never contract such amateurs.”
Jackson MacKinnon rose to his feet. “Avery, our investigators are going to sift through every speck of evidence. Forensics experts arrive from Brussels tomorrow, and the Board has granted me full authority in this case.” He snapped his briefcase shut. “We will find the perpetrators Avery, and reprisals will be severe.” He let that hang in the air over the polished obsidian table.
Avery Hsiang shrugged, “I trust your forensics teams are a bit more accurate than your usual ‘sources’, Jackson. We certainly regret the disturbing incident that prompted such an urgent meeting. I assure you, my company stands willing to assist you in apprehending the criminals. The problem of illegals is a concern for every corporation. But, it is the middle of the night - now if you‘ll excuse me, Mr. MacKinnon.” He picked his case up from the floor and nodded to the bodyguard standing against the paneled wall behind him. Together they left the conference room in silence.
Only when A-PAC Senior Arbiter Avery Hsiang was seated, and felt the steady thrum of the Lear’s twin engines in the deep leather did he permit another smile. He leaned forward and hit one of the buttons on the armrest.
“Are they in the air yet?”
Lead Arbiter Jackson MacKinnon stood at the window staring as the A-PAC shuttle jumped straight up, then darted off. He considered the twin flares of the Lear’s receding engines for a long time, until night finally swallowed them up. For several moments, nothing moved. Then, “I want a lock down. Offices, factories, everything. Notify the Board, of course. But all corporate facilities go to high alert. All of them. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir. Immediately” the man turned to leave.
“Sergeant?“ A full stop. “And send two units to ECI in Toulouse. S.D. Bureau 3.”
“Sir?”
Jackson MacKinnon paused, then turned slowly to face the man, now at rigid attention and repeated in a slow, low voice, “I said, I want two Special Deployment units. At the ECI Labs. In Toulouse. Now. Major Eames will lead personally. Tell her they’re to seal the facility. Maximum Sanction. I will brief her en route with the particulars.”
“Yes sir. Immediately, sir”
Jackson MacKinnon turned back to his reflection in the huge armor glass window and stood perfectly still.
