Ripples: Chapter 6
01 Feb 2019MMMMMalcolm
The merc downed the rest of his whiskey before relinquishing his glass. He turned slowly. Angular, almost inhuman features and brightly silvered eyes darted from face to face. A quiet and controlled voice drifted around in step with his gaze. Kay and Malcolm both realized that the figure wasn’t wearing armor at all – his entire body had been replaced with a heavily-armored, cybernetic, chassis. “Well, I know where he has been until a few hours ago, which was in a disused micro-fabrication unit on this station, and I know where he’ll likely be tomorrow, which is in a hole in some Imperial black site in the Eotienses system, but no I don’t know where he is right now I’m afraid.”
The figure shrugged, and with lightning-fast speed the characteristic hump-backed forms of a pair of burst lasers now protruded from his forearms. Three of the five guards jumped in surprise; Kay too was startled, but thankfully no one fired a shot... yet.
"I could kill you all before you batted an eye, but then all those lovely patrons that were here a minute ago would have missed out; not to mention your chaperones surrounding the bar would barge in shooting spoiling my fun. So before we do something drastic that will assuredly get us all killed, perhaps we should talk. My makers replaced a section of my brain with a plasma charge of considerable power and a mnemonic trigger. I simply think the correct sequence and BOOM, my head is very gone along with everything in a fifty meter radius. I’d rather not die today, nor would the nosy folks beyond your barricade. So, shall we discuss our impasse further?”
The cybernetic monstrosity that is Agent One tilted its armored head to one side, and awaited its answer as if it had all eternity. Kay’s hands began to tremble as rage, fear, and frustration fought years of training for control of her mind and body. She edged closer to the mercenary.
“How dare you kidnap my father and then just sit there discussing his life like a common Galnet report.”
Malcolm removed his rifle from his back. With his left he aimed it at the disfigured monstrosity seated casually at the bar. With his right he urged Kay to back up a few steps. He didn’t dare ask her to lower her weapons; he knew that wasn’t happening. But before he had a chance to say anything, Captain Reynoso chimed in.
“Agent One you say? Good; I’m glad you don’t want to die today. With that attitude I should have this business done quickly.” He turned toward his prisoner. His voice remained calm; his gaze steady. Every move carried a purpose to maintain complete control of the situation. “Since you’re in such a good mood, would you be so kind as to tell us the exact location of the micro-fabrication unit you mentioned?” A small nearly unnoticeable motion signaled the soldiers to shift their position, tightening their circle and moving Malcolm and Kay outside of it.
"Certainly, as I'm sure my employer is long gone. It's Unit 502, Deck 30, Sector 12." The Agent's lips drew back in what might have been smile. "Changing positions won't help. Its all very sweet and noble, but you should know there isn't a weapon in this room that can disable my brain, which is quite well armored and shielded, before my augmented reflexes trigger my cortex bomb. If I'm not walking out of here freely, no-one is walking out of here at all. That I promise you." Another shrug too fast for the eye to easily follow and the burst lasers disappeared back into their holes. Silvered cybernetic eyes moved slightly, to Kay. "You should be thanking me. I've made it possible for you to know who your father really is. He represents a fount of knowledge..." Just then, a beep issued from his wrist communicator. "Ah, good. I have just been paid for my services, and so the person who employed me does so no longer. I am free to accept a new contract. Would you like to discuss my terms for finding your father, breaking him out of whatever hole he is in, and returning him safe to you?"
Kay spat; her grip tightening, her aim adjusting through the wall of officers. "Sure, here's my offer..." At that moment the Captain rose from his seat positioning himself between Kay and her target.
“I’m the only legal authority here, so any deals will have to be approved by me; and that's not very likely." He gave a hard look first to Kay and then his quarry. "Since you’re no longer employed, it means you have plenty of time on your hands. So here’s what’s going to happen. My officers are going to keep us company while we sit and talk. In the meantime, four other officers will escort the Commanders here to see if your story checks out.” He glanced back at Kay. “I’m sure she wants to see to the well being of her father and I want a little less tension in this room. After we know he’s alive and well then we’ll discuss where you’ll be going.”
Agent One kept his eyes on Kay while Malcolm whispered something in her ear. "Well? If we all do as Captain tightwad here says there's little chance you'll ever see your father again. If you and your big hunk walk me out of here, then you almost certainly will. Your choice, I'm done talking and I won't be taken into custody by this dancing monkey."
“Okay! You win!” Malcolm yells from the back of the group. “Kay put your guns away. Look I’m putting mine away.” He raised his rifle and locked it onto his back. The Captain shot an angry and confused stare at the bounty hunter as he moved through his officers to stand next to the mercenary.
“What are you doing Commander? You have no jurisdiction here! We have hard evidence of this freak of nature torturing and killing an Alliance Official; on my station no less! There’s no way I’m letting him just walk away!” Kay put one pistol away. The other she pointed at the head of the nearest officer while using his body as a shield.
“And there’s no way we’re letting Mr. Wantz die,” Malcolm continued. He put his left hand on the back of the merc urging him out of his seat. “Right now we’re taking him to Unit 502, Deck 30, Sector 12. After that he’s all yours, that is if you can catch him again.”
Agent One stood and the two men and the lady waited for the Captain’s response.
“All units, this Captain Reynoso. The target is heading to Unit 502, Deck 30, Sector 12 escorted by two Federation Pilots. Let them pass. I repeat, let them pass. Your orders are to follow them but do not engage. I repeat, do not engage. The target has a bomb.” The Captain moved aside and signaled his men to do the same. Kay released the officer she held and the three began exiting the bar.
Suddenly, the device Malcolm placed on the mercenary’s back went off. The disfigured assassin stiffened as arcs of electricity raced across every inch of his armor. Right after the electric shock ceased it emitted a bright flash. The man fell flat on his face in front of the stunned group as every system in his suit shut down.
“What happened? Did his bomb malfunction?” Reynoso asked.
“No, that was an EMP stun grenade, and it worked perfectly,” Malcolm answered. "One of the many new weapons we’re developing at Vandermeer Hub. Shock to stun the target and EMP to disable electromechanical devices in their possession. Very effective in hostage situations as you can see. I wanted to shoot it at him from the grenade launcher of my rifle, but I feared his reflexes would have been too quick. So I worked toward a surprise detonation.”
“How long do we have before he wakes up?”
“He should be out for about two hours; more than enough time for you to figure a way to disable the bomb in his head.”
The Captain ordered the squad to take the assassin into custody. After leaving implicit instructions for System Authority’s head surgeon, he gathered another group of officers and escorted Malcolm and Kay to Unit 502, Deck 30, Sector 12.
*****
Anthony Wantz wasn’t easily intimidated, but this situation had him nervous. He knew exactly what information DeMarr wanted. The problem was, how was he going to keep it from him and the grubby Imperials pulling his strings? He took a deep breath and then dropped below the camera view of his “panic room” teleconference unit. He ignored the chuckle and smug taunting of his captor while he searched the cabinet in front of him. There, behind an unmarked black case and a first aid kit was his prize. He quickly strapped it on, exhaled, and then took a moment on the floor to savor the small victory.
The emergency life support unit only provided an hour and a half of oxygen. It delayed the outcome of his present course but it didn’t change anything. He was certain Denise knew by now he didn’t make his appointment and had the entire Federal Navy looking for him. But his recovery beacon had long been disabled. The only communications was the local device that dialed DeMarr. No one knew where he was; HE didn’t even know where he was. An hour and a half was nothing. He glanced at the black case. Nausea and pride rose up within him.
“I’m not some cornered animal,” he thought. “I can still win this.” With all the dignified defiance he could muster he rose from the floor and sat calmly in his executive seat. He replaced the safety harness that kept him in place when the safe-house ejected from his exploding Dolphin. Demarr’s chuckle turned into a roar of laughter.
“My, aren’t you a clever little rat. Well it won’t help you. My retirement plans can spare what… an hour… maybe two? And in the end you WILL tell me what I want to know.” Anthony didn’t answer. He didn’t want to waste the oxygen; besides, he was too busy concentrating.
DeMarr turned off the comm unit and cursed to himself. You would think, after decades of successful smuggling runs he would be used to plans not going smoothly. On the contrary, problems increased the potential for failure and failure was unacceptable. He was pissed.
“Relax DeMarr,” he said to himself. “Wantz isn’t going anywhere and no one is coming for him. This time tomorrow it’ll all be over and you’ll be free.” He sat in a fold out chair next to Wantz’s safe-house, turned on Galnet, and waited.
Gibson Kincaid has been announced as the winner of the Alliance presidential election. He will continue serving as president of the Alliance.
Kincaid obtained a small majority of the public vote, defeating Councillor Elijah Beck. Entrepreneur Fazia Silva, the third candidate in the race, was recently found dead, and is the subject of an Interpol investigation.
President Kincaid addressed his followers at a victory rally:
“My thanks go to every citizen who saw the wisdom of my vision. I vow to lead you into a glorious future!”
Prime Minister Edmund Mahon gave a statement to the media:
“I offer my congratulations to President Kincaid on being successfully re-elected. The Assembly is continuing to debate his proposal to imbue the presidential role with executive powers. We have agreed to extend the deadline by one week, after which a parliamentary vote will decide the outcome.”
After what seemed like an eternity, DeMarr’s patience began to be rewarded. He switched on the teleconference unit and saw Wantz dancing wildly around the cabin. The emergency life support unit rested in a corner where he flung it. The smuggler’s voice over the cabin’s speakers grabbed the captured trader’s attention, but sent him hiding behind his executive chair.
The drugs were effective, but they weren’t precise. It took DeMarr a “minute” just to get Anthony to talk to him, let alone answer his questions. Then when he did answer, it took another “minute” to get him past childhood deviant behavior and focused on more recent indiscretions. That lead to a digression about some irrelevant affairs he was certain Denise knew all about, but just wasn’t telling HIM she knew. DeMarr grit his teeth in frustration. If he didn’t know better he would have sworn Wantz was doing this on purpose. Overcoming the urge to shoot the flammable oxygen tanks and blow his prisoner to bits, he asked more probing questions; more SPECIFIC probing questions. When the answers he sought became apparent, he blinked his left eye to initiate the recorder in his cranial data storage device. Then he pressed a button on his arm mounted dataslate. Agent One’s idea was proving to be profitable and per their agreement he was now free to spend his share.
*****
Coriolis stations have a modular layout and can be assembled and made operational within a matter of weeks. Unit 502 was one of many storage units mounted to Deck 30 in Sector 12. It belonged to a miner who stored various ship modules there whenever he went on a run. Key word here is belonged, as that miner ran into DeMarr who saw the opportunity to have a place to store his goods, lured him into a phony mining mission and then killed him, taking his storage unit, his mining ship, and the fifty tons of Painite he asked him to mine. Poor sap’s body still occupied a corner somewhere in the unit behind some module crates.
When the group reached the two story unit, Captain Reynoso assumed the alpha role.
“You four cover the back. Sergeant, you’re with me and our bounty hunting guests. Our target, Lannius DeMarr, is armed and extremely dangerous. Your orders are to capture him alive. If, however, Mr. DeMarr chooses not to agree with that plan, then you are to show him the error of that choice. Am I clear?” The officers answered in unison.
“Sir, yes sir!”
“Good, let’s move out. Sergeant, you take point.”
Inside was mainly dust and shadows except for a few large module crates and an island of light in the center of the unit. Perched on that island, like he was seeking refuge from the surrounding darkness, was Lannius DeMarr. He was sitting in a folding chair listening to wild, barely coherent ramblings coming from… something next to him? It looked like it used to be a cube but three sides were ripped off and they had tubes running from some tanks mounted on the cube to some tanks near DeMarr. Kay was about to ask Malcolm what it was when a loud clang interrupted her. Reynoso, Malcolm, and Kay stared in disbelief as a large wrench came to rest at the Sergeant’s feet. Their attention returned to DeMarr when a noise very similar to a Class 1 railgun echoed through the unit. He stood, holding a smoking pistol that shook as it charged for a second shot. By the time the Sergeant’s body hit the floor with a hole the size of plate in his torso, the trio had dove behind whatever cover they could put between them and DeMarr’s gun.
“By the looks of your dead friend, I take it you are Allied Police!”
“Lannius DeMarr, you are under arrest for violation of Alliance…” The captain was cut short by a shot that tore through the crate he was hiding behind six inches left of his head.
“Awww! What happened to Alliance freedoms and self-determination?”
“That doesn’t include kidnapping and mur…” That shot was three inches to the right of his head; getting closer. He thought it wise not to speak further. Malcolm and Kay held their fire and kept their heads down for fear of rupturing the volatile oxygen tanks or getting shot.
“Well you’re too late!" DeMarr yelled. "I have what I want and a copy has already been sent to the Empire. Let me le…”
DeMarr was interrupted in a similar fashion to Captain Reynoso except the officer’s shot hit him square in his back. When the trio rose from their cover, they saw the officer standing over the dead smuggler, his rifle still pointed at his back. The three other officers stood by and one kicked away DeMarr’s pistol.
Kay ran toward the mangled cube. She had recognized the babeling voice the minute she heard it and though she was relieved her father was alive she was very concerned about his mental state.
“Malcolm, what is this thing and how do we get my father out of it?”
“I have no idea.”
“It’s a Class 3 Safehouse; highest level of personal security civilian money can buy. Or least it was until DeMarr got his hands on it. Don’t worry, every law enforcement officer in the galaxy has the bypass code.” After scanning the jerry-rigged system to make sure there were no traps, Captain Reynoso closed the valves on the oxygen supply tanks and keyed in the code to open the door. A dense grey cloud spilled out into the storage unit causing Kay to pause her rescue attempt. Once the air cleared, she ran inside where she found the man who taught her to grab life by the balls cowering like a little child behind his executive chair. Tears began to flow when she realized he didn’t recognize who she was.
“Oh daddy, what has he done to you?” In response, two officers rush in and grab Mr. Wantz’s arms; holding him down and causing him to cry out in manic fear. “Hey! Stop that! Let him go!” They ignore her as a third officer jabs a needle in his arm squeezing all of its clear liquid contents in his body. Seconds later Anthony stops screaming and passes out.
“Sorry ma’am but we have to get your father to a hospital right away.” Captain Reynoso informed her. “These tanks contain pure Aganippe Rush gas. This gas is normally processed into a liquid or solid pill before consumption. It’s a neurological stimulant used to temporarily increase memory retention and awareness. Excessive use and abuse of the compound has been linked to psychotic episodes and hallucinations. We carry an antidote for students and executives who abuse the stuff, but that’s after it’s been processed. Not sure if it will have any affect on someone exposed to the pure gas. My men will escort you to the hospital while I clean up here.”
Malcolm and Kay followed the men carrying Mr. Wantz to a waiting medical transport hovering outside the storage unit. Inside, the captain crossed himself and turned his attention to the dead smuggler.
“Well now Lannius, what was so important you spread eagle for the Empire?”