Unstable Prototypes (10 page)

"Okay, I'm going to plot out a few random
jumps to make sure they can't send anyone after us. Once I'm done,
the three of us are going to have a little chat. Understand?"

"Certainly," said the former prisoner.

"Of course," said Ma.

"Good," Lex said, shaking his head and
muttering as he flipped through the star charts. "What a waste of a
stick of gum..."

Commander Purcell sat alone in her quarters.
The space station that acted as her command center was an outdated
military repair and defensive support model which, among other
things, meant that personal space was kept to the bare essentials.
A single cot occupied one wall. It was attached via hinges, and was
currently folded up to reveal what was technically a chair, but was
more accurately the slightly cushioned top of a footlocker. There
was a charging station and mounting arm for an antiquated but
practically indestructible military-grade datapad. A sliding door
on one wall revealed a waterproof booth with a nozzle, though
calling it a shower would be an insult to modern plumbing. It also
contained a handful of biological waste disposal receptacles, the
description and usage of which are best left to the imagination.
Suffice to say their resemblance to vacuum cleaner attachments was
not coincidental. Everything was either bare metal or painted a
shade of institutional green that seemed calculated to sap the will
to live from everyone in a fifty meter radius. At the moment she
was seated in the chair, a modular desk surface folded down over
her lap, with the datapad mounted in front of her face.

Occupying the desk was a relic of a bygone
age, the qwerty keyboard. She was tapping away at it, interacting
with some manner of text messaging program on the datapad's screen.
Extremely high security dispatches were frequently communicated in
plain text. This was largely due to the fact that audio or video
messages could be easily overheard or witnessed. The tiny amount of
sensitive data represented by each message could similarly be
encrypted far more heavily, and each message separately, which
ensured that a cracking program would have very little to work
with, and thus little hope of producing useful results. As a final
bonus, it allowed for absolute anonymity beyond a screen name. In
the case of Purcell and the mysterious party on the other side of
the communication channel, these had remained set to their default
values: Local for herself and Remote for her associate.

"Report progress," read Remote's first
comment.

"No progress. The inventor will not
cooperate," she typed in reply.

"We did not expect him to be easily
convinced. You must use persuasion."

"He seems to believe that he is in the
superior bargaining position."

"Threaten him."

"We have threatened him. We have DISMANTLED
him. He does not feel any need to comply. He doesn't even seem
concerned."

"Torture him, then."

"He has killed five of my men in escape
attempts. If we were to torture him, I doubt that anything he would
design for us as a result could be trusted. I have serious doubts
that we should rely upon him. We would do the human race a
tremendous favor by removing him from the population."

"Not before we get the full designs and
apparatus to build a full scale device."

"There must be someone else who can design
them. The partial plans and small scale are available to us."

"There are other teams of engineers who can
do it, but they are all in the employ of major firms, or
militaries, or governments. We've tried to secure suitably skilled
military engineers before. Too risky. And no civilian design team
would produce a device with such destructive potential, and even if
they could, the results would be traceable and repeatable by
others. The inventor is a single man who has voluntarily removed
himself from society. He can give us what we need without
attracting the attention of law enforcement until it is too
late."

"What do you suggest we do, then?"

"You say he feels he is in a superior
bargaining position? Bargain with him. See if you can buy his
cooperation. I will finance any reasonable demand."

"And if the demand is unreasonable?"

"Agree. When he has outlived his usefulness,
kill him. He'll never collect."

"Very well."

"Keep me updated."

"Affirmative."

Purcell closed the connection and placed the
datapad back in its dock. The idea of negotiating seriously with
this man was utterly repulsive to her. He'd killed her men without
showing a trace of regret. The idea of killing him when this was
all over, on the other hand, might just make it all worthwhile.

#

Back in the cramped cockpit of the SOB, Lex
was finally happy with the next few stops on his ship's route.

"Okay. We've got twenty-five minutes before
the first stop, so let's get the preliminaries out of the way,
shall we?"

"Surely," said the man in the seat behind
him.

Lex fiddled with some controls and managed to
pivot his seat enough to look his passenger in the eye.

"My name's Lex," he said, extending a
hand.

"You can call me Mr. Garotte," said the
passenger with a firm shake.

"You got a first name, Garotte?"

"I do, and a last one. Neither of which is
Garotte."

"A codename, then?"

"Trust me. Things will be much less
problematic that way."

"I wished you'd said that first. I would have
come up with something cooler for me."

"Ace seems appropriate."

"We'll be sticking with Lex."

"Very well, sir. You've been sent by Karter,
I presume, based on the presence of his little pet here. Soul
Brother, I believe it was?"

"Yes, I'm here because of Karter. No, he
didn't send me. And this isn't Solby, this is his female
counterpart, Squee. Only it isn't her, either. It's really Ma."

"Ma? I think you're confused, my boy. Ma was
what Karter called that control system of his. He probably just
installed a similar voice module in that slidepad on the beast's
back."

"Tell him, Ma."

"The cerebral tissue of the funk with the
designation 'Squee' is currently being utilized as an organic
processing unit to run a useful subset of the capabilities and
functions available to Ma. For interface purposes, it can be
interacted with and treated in a manner identical to Ma," remarked
the voice over the ship's systems.

"Thanks, Ma. That clears everything up," Lex
said flatly.

"Well, then. Clever trick, that," said
Garotte. "So if Karter didn't send you, why the high stakes
breakout?"

"Ma asked for help. Although, to be fair, she
didn't say I was going to be aiding and abetting a known
criminal."

"The computer asked you to help? I suppose
Karter must have left instructions to be
delivered
by the
computer."

"What? No, she-"

"This is not a productive area of
discussion," remarked Ma.

"Indeed. Regardless of who is responsible for
issuing the orders,
why
have you seen fit to liberate
me?"

"Karter has been kidnapped," Lex said.

"Egad! Big Sigma is a veritable fortress. How
did someone manage that?"

"This has yet to be determined definitively.
However, the parties responsible were commissioning the
construction of a CME Activator," Ma explained.

"That's a-" Lex began to explain.

"A planetary blackout device. I'm familiar
with it," Garotte nodded.

"Oh... Okay."

"Nasty bit of technology, that. I can't
imagine the individuals responsible have charitable uses in
mind."

"And now they have Karter."

"A man
considerably
more dangerous
than anything they might have tried to buy from him," said Garotte
with a nod. "Yes, I think I see the importance of the task at hand.
Do we know who did this?"

"This has yet to be determined definitively.
Extremist intentions are likely," Ma provided.

"Mmm. Well then, we'll need to gather a bit
of information, find out who precisely we are dealing with. Once we
know what we are up against, we'll need to secure the resources to
penetrate their defenses and get our boy."

"Considerations have been made regarding
combat resources."

"Oh, you brought weapons?"

"No. Information has been gathered and
preliminary plans have been drawn up for the acquisition of
Zerk."

"What's Zerk?" Lex asked.

"I dare say that may be a
bit
drastic," Garotte scoffed.

"Time is limited, and Zerk is the most
efficient damage vector available, short of tactical nuclear
weapons, which while more easily accessible are less
autonomous."

"Given enough time, I think Zerk could easily
outclass a tactical nuke, but it would have to be a fairly
desperate situation to consider deployment."

"What's Zerk?" Lex asked again.

"Properly applied, Zerk is an extremely
flexible tool that will facilitate a host of widely varied
tactics," Ma continued.

"WHAT THE HELL
IS
ZERK!?" Lex
growled.

"I could answer that question, my boy, but
doing so would expose you to highly classified information that you
are not cleared to know. If the appropriate authorities were to
become aware of your knowledge, then you would be as eagerly sought
as I am likely to be, once word spreads of my liberation."

"Oof. Been there, done that. Not interested
in going down that particular road again," he said with a
grimace.

"Wise decision. Right then. I would say that
the course is clear. Are you familiar with a planet by the name
deGrasse?"

"Yeah, I think."

"Once your evasive maneuvering is complete,
make your way there. I'll give you the coordinates of a little
development where I keep a cache of emergency supplies. We shall
head there, where I shall have a shower, a shave, and a stiff
drink. Once those very necessary steps are taken, I shall see what,
if any, contacts remain available to me that can provide
information regarding our mysterious subjects of interest."

"That's it? You're just joining in? No
further convincing needed?"

"Duty calls, my boy," Garotte said, slapping
him on the shoulder. "And when duty calls, we answer. In addition,
the act of returning me to my freedom is one deserving of a measure
of gratitude, and it is been ages since I've had so stimulating an
activity offered to me. Besides, until a few minutes ago my agenda
had been comprised entirely of incarceration. Now my schedule is
cleared. One must keep busy."

"Thank you for your cooperation, Mr.
Garotte," Ma said with digital politeness.

"What exactly do you do, if tracking down and
infiltrating a terrorist group is busy work? I mean, that was some
fancy footwork back in the space station. You some sort of special
forces commando?"

"Zero gravity drills are part of basic
training for all armed forces."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"No, it doesn't. Well spotted. If you
continue to ask questions regarding my personal history, you may
notice a trend emerge."

"I know you're an expert in intelligence and
infiltration. I know that you got locked up for a war crime
involving some kind of overpowered cutter, and that you worked for
Karter."

"Well, then, that's already more than I would
have told you, so you are well ahead of the curve."

"Fine, asshole."

"My dear boy, I apologize wholeheartedly for
my inability to be forthcoming, but it is a regrettable consequence
of my field. Do try not to take it personally."

"No, it's fine. I got it. Need to know basis.
It just bugs me that you probably know all about me and I know next
to nothing about you."

"I'm afraid I haven't a clue who you are, nor
am I particularly curious."

"But... I mean. I was all over the news a few
years ago. T-Lex?"

"I've been in prison for three years. If your
brush with celebrity fell within that time period, then I'm afraid
I am rather likely to have missed it. Somewhat difficult to keep
one's finger on the pulse of society when your entertainment
options are controlled by the state."

"Uh... yeah, I guess it was right at the very
beginning of that, roughly."

"There, you see? It took the full force of
the judicial system to maintain my ignorance of your fame or
infamy, whichever may apply," he said, patting Lex on the shoulder
reassuringly.

"... You know, you aren't nearly as
charismatic as you think you are," Lex said flatly as he turned
back to his controls and started punching in a course.

"Again, my apologies. My interpersonal skills
may have atrophied somewhat during my imprisonment."

"Okay. Preliminary estimate for a course to
deGrasse, off the grid the whole way, is just under three
days."

"Rather speedy, all things considered,"
Garotte remarked appreciatively.

"Am I correct in assuming that making stops
would be unwise?"

"Quite so. A low profile and a swift journey
are called for in this instance."

"Okay, then. There's a turd burner under your
seat. The blue button on your armrest will deploy a holographic
privacy screen with noise cancellation between the chairs. Please
use it. It doesn't do anything for the smell, so the green button
is for odor neutralizer. Please use that, too. And try to keep that
sort of thing to a minimum."

"You shan't need to ask me twice," he said.
He was investigating what looked like a small bedpan with a few
controls on the side, the waste disposal device Lex was referring
to. Anyone who had ever used one quickly came to agree that it was
only for emergencies. "Not precisely first class
accommodations."

"Cheap, fast, or roomy. You can pick two, and
for me, leg room didn't make the cut."