2c: White and Green

I allowed a short burst on the manoeuvring thrusters to rotate the spine of the ship towards the moon’s atmosphere. Without the protection of the Warships wake I was vulnerable, I had to disguise my lines within the magnetic field of the moon. The body of the ship was about three kilometres long; a thin black shard with the Braine drives a silver and yellow snake coiled around the entire length. I glistened in the reflective orange glow of the gas giant, suddenly I melted from view as the graviton field was activated, curling the light around my body.

My main control room was awash with controlled anger. It splashed around like a toddler in a paddling pool. The usual smooth white surfaces were throbbing blue, my anger spilling out into the environmental sub routines. Even the usually calm Mage, Tryune Ballack, was rustling his long arms, his domed head butting against the ceiling.

“What happened Harley?” Guyil was still cleaning his nose, his shinny metallic voice cutting through the air. I had long since given up guessing his original sex. He could have communicated with me directly but this was a conversation the whole crew needed to have. “What’s the situation?”

“I don’t know.” My voice hung in the air. Some Embedded ships had several Essentials, sometimes in various guises. I was quite partial to the one I had. “The monkey cut the link.”

“What, why?” Jared was pacing the foreground, the shards of silicon that protruded from his body scraped and jarred with each other.

“I was in danger. C-specks, cute ones too, I think I was about to get captured, or complete an amazing, seat of your pants, escape.” The final three members of the crew were humans, a tall dark man by the name of Haleiwa Bell, a diminutive, stocky redhead called Elysia Hubbard and a tall, thin brunette called Angel. “Though judging by the lack of response I would go with the former.”

“What about Marvin?” Elysia was sulking in the corner, her red hair wrapped around her neck. She was a bitch but the best navigator I had ever known. Judging the jumps through Braine worlds took a certain type of intelligence. Computing power was not enough; it was an art not a science.

“Gone. Run away to daddy.” Tryune was beginning to worry me. I had been reluctant to bring a mage on board but Guyil had insisted. “Though someone on board must feel sorry for us, I got an unauthorised info packet before they jumped. Never liked the guy, anyone who goes for all black must be a bit weird, and then he has the nerve to take the name Hue? Moron.”

“So what does it say?” Haleiwa slid over to perch on the central consol, his biologically augmented arms rippled.

“It says sorry and …” One of my observation drones flashed red down its link. “Great.”

“What?” I ignored Jared’s protests, instead projecting the picture the drone had fed me onto the wall. It was of a small white speck against the dull orange background of the gas giant. Amplified a few times the unmistakable outline of a human female swam into view.

“Looks like Marvin left more than an info packet.” Haleiwa was already making his way towards the airlock. “Pick her up Harley.”

“It is safe?” Guyil asked my through his comms link. I scanned the body. How she had lasted so long in deep space was worrying but there were no EM signatures, not even a detection chip.

“Looks that way.” I replied. “Though I am nervous.”

“What have we got to lose?”

Exactly, I thought, what? I wondered how long it would be before the Sanctum sent a few, more intelligent, warships to contain me. Not long. I needed options, besides the though that someone was willing to drift in space on the off chance I had deployed observation drones, that I was in this vicinity at all, fascinated me. I launched a tug drone to bring the girl in.

2b: White and Green

The man entered the restaurant and sat down. I wandered down his arm and perched on the edge of the stained, wonky table. “So who are we meeting?”

“No one, I’m hungry.” He began to stroke his manicured beard with his hand. I wondered if it was real, I hadn’t noticed any change of clothes. He was either not planning to stay long or, worse, wearing a gel suit. I tried not to stare at his face, distracting myself by pruning my fur.

“In here? What ever floats your boat I suppose, though they must be good, judging by the amount of people in here. There must be at least, let me see, three, including you. Business is booming.” In the bright yellow corridors inside the rest of me my crew began to clam down, a consensus had been reached, though Guyil, a old, wiry Alter, was still nursing a broken nose. Jared was laughing, I was constantly amazed at his ability to strike at the weakest point, there wasn’t much flesh left on Guyil but he had managed to find it. But then that’s Liamen for you. “So what do you want me to do, keep watch? Nice trick on the Essential outside by the way, micro-emp wasn’t it? Had to upgrade this Essential to protect against that, nasty little devices, you got any more?”

“No and yes.” He turned to the fat, sweating waiter who sloped over and ordered something incomprehensible.

“Don’t talk much do you? I had a friend like you once, an embedded habitat, Alfred was his name I think, had an essential that looked like a duck, weird fellow, but would only communicate in binary.” I leapt up to hang by my tail from the lampshade, which felt greasy. “Only Alters could handle the incessant beeping. Still, there was a restaurant run by his bio-mother which served the best pancakes I have ever eaten.”

The man glared at me. “You mean Alfred Bester?”

I avoided his eyes, they were so blue, cold and pale. My fur prickled. “Perhaps…”

“Didn’t you steal his neural hub and sell it to the Linkers?”

I decided silence was the best option. “Ok, I see you’re not in a chatty mood, fine, not a problem, I’ll just be hanging here if you need me.”

“Good.”

I scanned the restaurant. The tables were close and clean but scratched. The walls had the off yellow sheen of countless years of smoke, even the wallpaper looked as if it preferred to be somewhere else. The soft violet light peered through the gaps in the blackened window, timid warmth invading the cold blackness.

I watched the man eat his food. He did not need much. He looked like a surgeon, carefully picking his food apart with precision, never using more effort than was required. His long thin fingers rippled across the plate. There was a lull in the conversation, the few patrons melting into the gloom.

It was then I noticed the c-specks. Their blond hair flickered in the darkness, like a lion’s mane in the grass. Slowly they edged forward, outside a large black behemoth stood in front of the doorway. There was no escape. I info packed my situation to the rest of me and my crew.

“Marvin, I thought you told the IS to back off?” There was no reply, I swung down and returned to the man’s shoulder. “Marvin, answer me.”

His voice was faint and blunt. “There has been a change of plan.” Within moments the rest of me confirmed Marvin Hue had left the solar system.

“We’re in trouble.” The man looked at me, a vague impression on his face. He had already begun to slip into the drug induced trance that the Hashashi were so feared for. I checked my own defences as my other self went into full war mode, uploading all of what I had discovered so far I switched off the link.

“Yes, you are.” He smiled, and closed his eyes.

The man pirouetted, sending a small metal disc searing through the air towards the advancing Isabella J-3. It cut deep into the spike on her arm. The other c-speck had volleyed past and was already firing her gun and spike, the projectiles arching through the thick atmosphere.

I speed up my reaction time, clamping my hands to the man’s shoulder. I was just able to get enough of a handle on the malleable surface of the gel suit before the man dropped, rolled and sprung towards the behemoth outside. I ducked as a spike sunk into the wall beside us as we ran, the man using his briefcase as a shield, batting the projectiles out of the air like flies. The c-specks were getting closer, Isabella ignoring her limp arm to launch after her crazed sister.

There was a brief flash as we passed through the barrier shield into the street. The large black Alter stood in the violet sunlight, his gleaming metallic body casting a long green shadow over the scalding pavement. Behind him was a small streamlined red airship, hovering a few metres above the road. In the back seat lay an animal Essential in the shape of a large black cat. Instantly I recognised him.

“Hello Harley.” The purr streamed over the net.

“Hello Franck.” The man reached inside a pocket and brought a slim blowpipe to his mouth. “Sorry.”

The cat smiled. “Whatever for?” The man aimed and blew.

“This.” I invaded his neural net with a virus spike as a small spike penetrated the Alter just under his neck. He staggered and fell, the man leapt, firing the pistol at the window, which shattered over the writhing cat. Behind us a c-speck dived for the man’s leg, wrapping her fingers around his ankle as we sailed through the opening in the car. An electric pulse fizzled across the man’s body and I jumped, launching the car’s ignition control, overriding the safety and propelling it into the air.

I landed on Franck, quickly turning him off before he could recover.

The man brushed off the dust from his suit and took control. “Thanks.”

I flashed my teeth. “No worries.” Suddenly my senses blanked out as the ship filled with gas. “Typical.”

2a: White and Green

The undulation of the man’s walk and the softness of his shoulder were making my mind drift. I hadn’t known the man for long, only a couple of centuries or so, on and off. I often wondered what made him tick; he wasn’t your usual Hashashi, professional to a point that their trousers always had creases in them, even when they were wearing projections. No, he was the man, pure and simple. The most feared and respected problem solver in the Human Congregation, and beyond. It was rumoured that he took down a Liaman single handed, which is impossible, but the legend grows.

I once asked him why he was called the man. He said he couldn’t remember. The drugs the Hashashi take to segment their brain, hiding the knowledge that might get them killed in a complex maze of neurochemicals and rewired neurons, meant that some of the information never returned. Forever lost, only occasionally bubbling to the surface as a flash of imagery or sense of déjà vu. That or he was lying, and he is a very good liar.

“What’s he up to now?” The voice of Marvin Hue, an embedded human who was currently occupying the Indefinite Class Warship huddled behind the third moon of the gas giant interrupted my train of thought.

“Walking along, I don’t know, stop pestering me.”

“So he accepted your offer of help?”

“Yes.” Marvin was nominally my superior though hierarchy didn’t really exist; the Congregation was just that, a loose collection of states that adhere to a common faith. That everyone should be allowed to believe whatever they want. The Sanctum controlled the nuts and bolts of trade, currency, banking, security and weights and measures. Everything else was left up to each state, be they planets, habitats or in some cases whole ships. There was only one rule: no armies. The Sanctum’s army would deal with any aggression towards a member of the Congregation. Spying was left to anybody who felt like it.

“Don’t trust him.” The fact I wasn’t even a member of the congregation, expelled for destroying a Lubian habitat, which wasn’t my fault, but was, was sometimes lost on Marvin. Not his fault, Warship didn’t have the biggest neural hubs.

“I wasn’t planning to; do you think he trusts me?” I moved slightly to the left and ducked as the man swept past a hanging sign.

“No.”

“Do you trust me?”

There was a miniscule pause. “No,”

“So we all know where we stand then.” I began trying to decipher the DNA code lock to the briefcase; it was complex, quantum level with tripartite backup subroutines. I sent an info packet containing his DNA and the lock mechanism to the rest of me, hidden in the wake of one Indefinite Class Warship near the third moon of the gas giant. The six other crew members were arguing over whether to abandon this contract, the no’s were winning but only because Whitchel White had been mentioned.

“Where are you now?”

Marvin you moron. “I am sitting on the target’s shoulder, we are approaching what looks like a restaurant though by the look of the man throwing up outside I would question that description. Those two IS flunkies are still on our tail and there is at least one, if not two, Essentials watching as well, probably from central hub, one is in the guise of a crow and the other, quite cleverly, as a man throwing up outside a restaurant.” I waited for the inevitable.

“What is your guise?”

“Guess.” The man slid a small device from his pocket and tapped it onto the back of the man throwing up, instantly the image faded to reveal a small grey metallic box which fizzled and spat on the ground. "Make that one Essential."

“A small green monkey.”

Not completely stupid then. “Correct.”

There was a fury of static, swearing in digital. “This was meant to be a covert op.”

“Please, have you read the contract?” I knew he hadn’t, only three men, apart from my crew, had. Besides the best cover was full view and I had spent several decades honing my outlaw image, I had a reputation to protect. “Leave me alone, I’ve got to observe.”

“Fine…” Our communication link fell silent. I wondered if ten million tonne warships could sulk. I decided, in Marvin’s case, they could.

1f: Entry Point

“I see you had a visit from our local tinbots.” Harley Bay had never been one for the usual, though for the past three years he had settled on an Essential in the guise of a small green monkey. Unlike most embedded humans Harley hadn’t downloaded his entire mind map into the animal; he used it more as a Sectioned mind, but in constant contact with the rest of him. Where the rest of him was I hadn’t a clue, probably in a star ship, a very quick and expensive star ship. “Very well designed.”

“Yes.” I shook his paw and signalled the door closed behind him. “You have something for me?”

“Not much, not meant to be dealing with Hashashi, you know.” Harley smiled, curling his tail around the leg of the chair.

“You’re not meant to be alive.”

I never though a monkey could frown. “True, but my case is on appeal, besides I was framed.” He picked out a small info chip from a concealed pocked in his fur. “Don’t you want this then? Plenty of other bidders, Mr. White is very popular these days.”

I double checked my sound shield. “You destroyed a Lubian habitat.”

“Rumours, damn lies and statistics. No real proof.” He scampered up my arm and rapped my forehead. “You should use that famous analytical brain of yours and come to your own conclusions.”

I tried to swat him away but he was too quick, springing beyond my flailing hand and catching himself on the light fittings. For a moment I watched him swing there. “You destroyed a Lubian habitat.”

Harley shrugged. “Ok, you got me.” He tapped his nose. “But this is just between you and me. It goes no further. My mother would kill me if she found out.”

“Your mother’s dead.”

Harley’s laugh was a cross between a lawn mower and a cheese grater. “Doesn’t mean she wouldn’t kill me.” He bared his teeth in what passed for a smile. “You know what I like about you?” I shook my head. “Your sense of humour, riot a minute you are. Some people in your game, bland as, like ingesting concrete some of them. I remember one guy tried to explain the nuances of the Congregation Monetary system whilst removing this poor soul’s head. Great fun he was.”

I raised my eyebrows. “The chip?”

“Here, freshly pirated from the central comp this morning.” He flung it towards me; it landed on a large black stain. Picking it up off the sticky carpet I slotted it into the interface on the back of my neck. Instantly all the movements of Whitchel White over the past three weeks flooded into my head, alone with his banking details and his associates. All neatly packaged in Harley’s idea of a joke, pink rose petals and the smell of lavender oil.

“Thanks.” I transferred several batter packets into his account.

“You want to hire me?” He asked.

“To do what?”

Harley shrugged again. “Oh, you know, get away driver, partner in crime, strategic thinker, eye candy… anything really.”

I frowned, my finger flinching over the trigger. “Why?”

“I’m bored, need some excitement in my life and you're the kind of guy that exciting things happen to.” He began to lick his paw. “Besides, I like you.”

“How much?”

Harley scratched his head. “Oh, let’s say, nothing?”

“Nothing?”

“Yes, nothing. Gratis, free, nada. Call it a favour returned.” Suddenly he looked solemn, twirling his arms in the air. “You know, for that thing you did for me.”

“Don’t trust him.” My Sec piped up whilst gorging himself on the new information.

“I wasn’t intending to.”

Harley looked at me, head half cocked to one side. “Is that a yes?”

I sighed. “Yes.”

“Good.” Harley smiled and scampered up to my shoulder as I picked up the briefcase and walked out of the room.

1e: Entry Point

Once, on a particularly hot and perilous planet, I managed to actually kill a c-speck outright. Not just shut it down but render it irreparable, even it’s normally impervious black box of a mind was destroyed. The fact I had to use a small fission device and an erupting volcano has given me a grudging respect to the engineers who are responsible for building the things. They are, nominally, human, grown as genetically engineered clones and then enhanced both physically and mentally to withstand whatever hell the universe wanted to throw at them. It has been rumoured that the final quality control test consists of launching them into the nearest star’s corona.

However they have one discernable flaw, they always obey orders and those orders are given by humans. Humans make mistakes, humans can be fooled. If they ever broke that conditioning, I shuddered.

I watched the vehicle pull away down the road and munched a few of the nuts. I wasn’t entirely sure whether the meeting had been a warning or what passed as a friendly welcome. Still I had Isabella J3’s contact details, I wouldn’t mind spending a few hours in her company, even if it was just for the way she was built rather than her stunning personality. Surely c-specks had emotional needs?

In the background I noticed a black crow follow the path of the vehicle with its head, ruffle its feathers, and soar into the sky. I scratched my nose. I was beginning to feel uneasy, the bile in my stomach sloshed around in anticipation.

“Animal Essentials as well, this place is full of surprises.” The familiar voice of my sectioned personality peered out of the ether. It was like talking to yourself, in fact it was talking to yourself, except through a filter and without knowing what the other you is thinking. It was a bit surreal but a necessary consequence of having to hide the majority of your knowledge and memory away whilst on a contract. “You better be careful.”

“These nuts are good.” I opened the briefcase and studied the photos. Whitchel White’s face peered out at me, ragged and unshaven but unmistakeable in his all white suit and black cane. He looked composed; he looked as if he was expecting me.

“Are you listening to me?” My sectioned personality intruded.

“No, Sec, I am not listening to you.”

“Thought so, cute though, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, she was.” I mentally worked out the distance from the grey brick tower I had chosen, it was a bit to close for a strike but perfect for surveillance. Some Hashashi liked to go in cold but I was old fashioned, I had to learn about my target first. I had to know Whitchel White before I could kill him. “If you find psychopathic cyborg killers attractive that is.”

“Well I do, which means you do.”

“You powers of deduction astound me.” I finished the last of the nuts and through the crumpled bag into the waste disposal. There was a brief fizzle as the contents degraded. I noticed the ring of ash around its base and the arch of burn marks above it. Someone had recently tried to get rid of something rather large and rather combustible. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Yes I am. The …” Suddenly the Sec went quiet; I could sense someone infiltrating my outer interface. Immediately I shut down the link and viewed the eye. Outside, hanging upside down from a light fitting slowly picking through its fur, was a small green monkey.

I smiled. “Come in.”

1d: Entry Point

She was taller than I had expected, her golden hair reached down to the curve of her back, nestling there like a coiled snake. Her crystal blue eyes surveyed the room before resting on me, her lips curt and stern.

“Stay where you are.” Her nostrils flared but she remained still, I could feel her probe my mental net, gently at first then with increasing irritation.

“Why do they call you the man?”

I smiled and shrugged. “I have no idea. Do you?”

“No.” She was wearing simple white, long sleeved top that hugged her ample frame and a pair of plain blue trousers. Despite their bland appearance they glinted in the light of the morning sun, the small impact scales peeking out. It amounted to full body protection; c-specks even had metal grafted onto their skulls. “Why are you here? What does the Hashashi want?”

“That is confidential.” I leaned down to the floor where I had left an opened bag of nuts, making sure she saw my identity band as it glowed green. If she killed me now there would be repercussions. “What about you? This place must be pretty important to have not one but two c-specks running errands. The Sanctum got something to hide?”

“No.” She clasped her hands in front of her, the tip of her spike edging out of its cave. “Why are you here?”

I sighed. “To kill someone.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t checked yet.” I lied. “Try and interrogate me if you want.”

“Only one?”

“Yes, only one, sorry about the mix up earlier, slight misunderstanding.” I flicked an info packet mentally towards her, making sure it couldn’t be traced. “It’s all there, all the proper clearance.”

She twitched as she read the packet, then again. Suddenly she smiled. “Welcome, my name is Isabella J3 at your service; please contact the Sanctum if you have any need of assistance in this matter.” She returned my info packet with her contact details.

I shivered as I watched her pirouette and disappear out of the door.

1c: Entry Point

The hotel room was sparse but clean, a small box room with a view of the port. I could see the ancient ships drift in and out, awkward, angular monstrosities cobbled together from the various seed ships that had landed during the past few centuries. Several of them still had the red and gold insignia of the Congregation emblazoned on their blackened surfaces, their sharp lines breaking through the thick green water.

On the road below a pretty blond woman sat in the front seat of a damaged vehicle, the whole of one side was scraped, the dark green paint flecked. She was another of the Congregation’s flunkies, probably part of the Sanctum. She was far too poised and professional to be a local. The only reason I knew she was there because she had wanted me to.

I sighed and returned to the opened briefcase. The tools of my trade laid out on the stained white sheets. A knife, a Tousle Gun and the various pictures, blueprints and files I needed for the contract. Nothing electronic, it could be too easily copied. Old fashioned paper was much easier to destroy, everything else nestled neatly inside my brain, waiting to be activated. That, of course, would die with me.

There was a knock at the door. Quickly I gathered up my things and replaced them into the briefcase, locking it to my DNA. I slide over to the door. “Who is it?”

“Are you the man?” A short, melodic but deep voice penetrated the room, the smell of roses sneaking under the door. I accessed the eye I had placed in the corridor; it showed the tall, attractive blond from the car outside. Quickly I checked to see if it was the same one, it was not. They were c-speck, a version I was unfamiliar with but definitely inner sanctum. I tensed, arching my back against the inner wall.

“Perhaps.” The eye showed she was unarmed but the ridge on her left hand indicated a supplemented spike, probably dispensing a nerve agent.

“We need to talk.” Her voice lacked enthusiasm.

I moved to the empty brown chair and trained the pistol I had taken from the fool on the door. “Really? What about?” I didn’t need to raise my voice; I knew she could hear me.

“Your presence here.”

“And what if I don’t want to talk?”

“Then you die.”

That’s what I loved about the c-specks, the always stuck to the point. I mentally ordered the door to unlock. “I suppose you had better come in then.”