Xochitl Novella, Part 8
Hidden Truths
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News of the attack and destruction of the business-focused tourism site filled every news cycle around the region. The casualty listing was a whose who of prominent business executives, representing most of the regional minor factions. There was enough white color connected remains to warrant the Federation's involvement. That this followed in the wake of the public announcement of an application by one of the listed factions, for incorporation into the larger power, which provided a motive for any interested rival.
Upon her return to the carrier, Xochitl set to work reconfiguring her passenger ship's weaponry while her android assistant set itself to the task of altering the logs after her first departure, showing a return trip to the carrier. Zarathustra, the carrier’s security chief, escorted the living passenger to the secure section for debriefing and then placed them in a hibernation state inside a holding pod. An unfortunate necessity that neither Xochitl nor Yatziri was happy about, but they would do their best to ensure his safety while a new life was created for him.
It was not a surprise that Xochitl was wanted for questioning, as her passenger ship was the last listed flight scheduled for that location. In a showing of full cooperation, the Federal investigator was invited to her carrier, even though it was positioned outside of their controlled space.
Federal Inspector Monty Gladsen had been on several Drake class carriers but said nothing as he was given the tour of Xochitl’s. He noted it was well-kept and maintained. He expected nothing less from a grade-5 rated frame, hull, flight system, and propulsion mechanic, who at one time was herself a Federation employee … or was it now themselves? He wasn’t sure, after reading the records he found on her, and the accident which created their new form.
‘Your time as an independent has been profitable,’ Monty noted as they entered the ship’s galley.
‘The Chef runs a tight full rotation crew. If you are hungry for something specific, we keep a full complement of most goods including some rares.’
‘Coffee is fine, thank you,’ Xochitl found a seat, motioning to another across from her, as an android approached the table, with two zero-g rated drink thermoses.
‘Ah, your link to the ship via your neural processor. I had read you were so equipped. Tell me about the accident.’
Xochitl shrugged. ‘Not a lot to tell. Working on a ship with an undocumented engineered modification to its power plant, and it sent a feedback surge through the system, to the module I was working on. The only thing that saved me was an equally poorly modified power bus and regulator, which exploded, but not before incinerating my legs, the arm touching it, along with critical damage throughout my internal organs, culminating with the bolt exiting the top of my head, taking part of the skull cap with it.’
Monty winced. ‘Your heart?’
Xochitl pointed at his data tablet. ‘Started and stopped about a hundred times. It is now artificial too … industrial grade.’
‘No brain damage?’
‘Of course,’ Xochitl chuckled, reaching up to part her hair, to show where it hid a physical connection port to her neural processor. ‘That is industrial grade too, as is the rest of my build. I didn’t want to give up what I was good at and enjoyed doing, simply because half of me was turned into ash.’
‘So now you run passenger services for rich businessmen?’
‘The best way to make connections as I travel. In time the goal is to produce several regional corridors, spanning through the human-inhabited portions, guaranteeing work and monetary funding; crews like to get paid on time.’
‘You are relaxed, considering the events leading me here.’
Xochitl taped the side of her head. ‘When you circumnavigate a planet’s dark side, there will be light. This has its benefits.’
‘Yes, I forget. Which leads me to how you like to be addressed, since?’
Xochitl chuckled. ‘I am still female enough; with modifications and cloned parts added. A necessity for my biological functions. That part of me still requires food, liquids, processing, and disposal.’
‘On the time in question, you accepted a passenger contract. When you landed, did anything appear out of the norm?’
‘It was a dark side instrument approach. The automated systems functioned normally. I did notice a lack of human personnel, but that is not, unusual. All passengers listed, disembarked, and I checked their board for any return contracts; there were none. With the late hour, I decided instead of remaining for a what-if, I would return to my carrier and try again on the next cycle. That is when I heard the news.’
Monty was interrupted as his tablet beeped at him. ‘What the…’
‘I’ve linked to your tablet and I am uploading everything you require.’
Monty nodded, making a few mental notes of his own, that she couldn’t upload to.
‘So, your build is of industrial mechanical design, but seems rather lite for such a model.’
Xochitl kept a neutral expression, knowing his notes would contain the answer. ‘Our Federation provided me with the best their military tech had available. I was their employee, working in their shop, on one of their contractor’s ships, when it happened.’
She held up her cybernetic arm, turning it in examination. ‘Lighter yet stronger design, more robust than the standard commercial dock bot model.’
‘So, no regrets?’
‘While being rebuilt, and certainly during physical therapy, but once my brain was repopulated by my neural processor, and I learned I could not only continue to perform my work but even better … no regrets. Your not jealous are you?’ Xochitl said, showing a sly smile.
Monty nodded. ‘Touche. No mam, I am not. Simple routine questions, of which I will have more once the survivor wakes up.’
Xochitl feigned relief. ‘Oh, thank the stars. They can corroborate everything I have said, and what you have in your notes. If there is anything I can do to help…’
Monty sipped on his coffee, then stood up. ‘No, but that is nice of you. I have to go check on other leads, unfortunately, but may have follow-up questions for later; if you are available.’
Xochitl smiled. ‘I am available as needed Inspector.’
The ship and ergo Avery noted the mention of a survivor, which either meant Jason was still alive, or the inspector was fishing, trying to make Xochitl slip — a waste of his time to attempt.
Webs
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Jason sat upright in his bed, picking at the food in front of him.
'A fortunate man indeed, to have survived the ruins of the tourism settlement. You said you were there for an employment offer.'
It found Federal Inspector Monty Gladsen an interesting and annoying biological form.
'Mr. Powers, I am curious. Where is your ship? No evidence of was found among the remains of the tourism settlement.'
'It was undergoing repairs and refit at Vuhruhkhuh settlement. I booked Apex passage from there to here, for a job offer.'
'You have heard that settlement no longer exists. Is there anything that could help corroborate its location prior to your arrival here?'
Jason stared at the food, analyzing its nutritional value.
'The navigational beacon of the region's primary system should have its identification transponder listed.'
'The records state that it was insured — which is fortunate. You must be excited to get another ship?'
'My current employer has provided for me.'
Inspector Gladsen nodded, the rapid blink of his data tablet drawing his eyes to it in curiosity.
'Congratulations on your recent employment. I am curious about something. A known scavenger who has had several low and uninteresting fines throughout the region, for minor smuggling infractions of banned junk. Hired by a minor powers mining operation … for what purpose?'
'I am good at hauling things Inspector, legal or otherwise. They have a lot of minerals that need to be transported.'
'How many were on the Apex shuttle, when you arrived at the tourism settlement?'
Jason kept his focus on the food. 'I am aware of only me and the pilot.'
Monty looked at the room's door as a nurse entered. Standing up, he patted the side of the bed. 'Get some rest, Mr. Powers. I will be along to chat again soon.'
The nurse watched, with empty eyes, as the Inspector departed.
Jason looked at the nurse, shaking his head.
The choice of words Jason had used was interesting to Monty. 'I am aware, not I was?
Monty stopped at the nurse's station, showing his identification, then handing the duty nurse his tablet. ‘Provide me with Mr. Powers' complete record including medications given.’
The nurse complied with the request, as Inspector Gladsen scanned through the information, narrowing eyes reflecting his curiosity.
There were no known medications listed to account for his lack of emotion. His responses were not in tune with his listed educational level, from the various holding facilities he had been incarcerated in. The almost mechanical lack of care about his ship or the demise of the two settlements, both of which he had been at. His thoughts drifted to Xochitl and her connecting with his tablet.
Walking toward the elevators, he sent a message to the Federation's regional office for the contact information for one of their cyberneticist.
***
Xochitl sipped on her beer, studying the monitors on her quarter’s walls, with Rex, Yatziri, and Zarathustra each discussing the recent events. Avery stood nearby, changing the information on each of the monitors accordingly, with the conversations taking place.
‘As anticipated, exploring the network has uncovered several subroutines hidden within.’
Zarathustra nodded toward one of the monitors. ‘That inspector has spread a net and is waiting for someone to step over it. Your connecting with his tablet didn’t do you any favors.’
‘A calculated risk,’ Avery interjected. 'It was what you term a catch-22 situation. Had she not connected, it would have later appeared as if there was something to hide. By connecting she showed her listed design capability and her willingness to do so.’
‘Damned if you do, damned if you didn’t,’ Rex said, leaning forward to grab a beer thermos container.
‘The inspector is intelligent enough but predictable. My curiosity is not with him but with Jason. If he had not survived, there would be no need for the hidden webs at the only orbital medical facility in the region.’
‘If he is as you suspect, then that means that potentially everything is now infected with that damned virus.’
The monitors changed their information as Avery spoke. ‘I do not think so. Based on what we know, and the more recent events, it has evolved. It now has a human host and has demonstrated the capacity for identifying potential traps set for it. This shows creative thinking. A process no doubt dervied from its new host.’
Rex narrowed his eyes in thought. ‘But how much of who is what? Is Jason a puppet or a willing participant?’
‘All I know is the damned thing created zombies.’ Yatziri stated, nearly spilling her drink by pointing with it toward one of the monitors.
Xochitl chuckled. ‘Not zombies,’ Avery stated. ‘Though without their life force the remains retained enough of their bio-electrical charge for it to manipulate and both contract and relax the muscles of. This, we suspect, is another sign of evolved intelligence. It was attempting to spook you, to force you to not pay attention to its primary host … who was isolated and secure in the restroom with the environmental suit you provided it.’
‘Well, it worked. I’m still spooked,’ Yatziri said with a bit of excitement.
Rex looked around the room. ‘The answers lay with Jason. The question is, how to get near him without tripping any of the Federation’s security.’
Zarathustra took a sip of her drink. ‘I have the answer to that in hibernation. If Jason is still amiable toward the mining outfit he was meeting with.’
‘If he has not been detained, he will be under surveillance during such a move,’ Avery stated, looking toward each person.
‘I’m going to need a fast ship for that,’ Yatziri said with a smile. ‘Leave it to a smuggler to get their undivided attention.’
‘We won’t be able to help if it goes sideways.’ Xochitl cautioned.
‘I’m going to need Chief Bowen to help out with that … you still have those engineered mines?’
Xochitl chuckled. ‘They are going to love you.’
Unique Structures
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Inspector Gladsen studied the monitor displaying the schematic of Xochitl's design as the Federal cyberneticist pointed at the image.
'Your cyborg does not have the capability to hack into a human brain and control the amygdala or any other part of the brain.'
'Why is that?'
The cyberneticist zoomed in on the brain portion of the image. 'Well, first of all, the brain is a complex and sophisticated organ, and it's not as simple as just sending a signal and taking control. Even with a neural interface, there are many factors that come into play, such as the individual's own willpower and neural responses.'
'But couldn't a cyborg use some sort of advanced technology to override these responses?'
'It's theoretically possible, but it's not practical or feasible.'
'So how did she accomplish it?'
'She couldn't have. The other brain has no means of interfacing. Listen, inspector, this isn't two computers talking. Neural implants are tailored specifically to the individual and their unique brains. If they put her processors in your head, you wouldn't survive the experience. If, by a miracle, you did, you would be damaged beyond repair. The pairing and communication take time and a lot of learning for both the technological and biological. You are talking about billions of pathways being generated for the two to become a functional unit.'
'What about controlling something small and specific, like the amygdala?'
'Well, the amygdala is responsible for processing emotions and responses, but it's not a single, isolated part of the brain that can be easily manipulated. It's just one part of a complex network of neural pathways and structures, and any attempt to control it would have unintended consequences and negative side effects. The recipient would likely not be breathing.'
'So, there's no way for a cyborg to manipulate or control a human brain using their neural processor?'
'No, not in the way you're thinking. The neural processor is designed to work with a cyborg's own brain, and it doesn't have the ability to interface with or control the biological processes of another. It's important to understand that cyborgs are simply augmentations unique to the individual. In the case of your suspect, her design is unique to her.'
'And her connecting to my tablet?'
'That was a simple technological connection to transfer information.'
Inspector Gladsen studied his tablet, turning it in his hands.
'You appear to be having trouble with this. Let's see if I can help you out in another way. Tell me...what were the questions you asked her specifically?'
A small smile crept on the cyberneticist's face as Monty recounted his words, and he reached over and tapped the tablet in his hands.
'I believe your cyborg was answering a question you had yet to ask for you.'
'She can think that far ahead?'
'Simply, yes. She was ahead of you before you landed. The question you are trying to think of isn't whether she hacked your victim, but what does she know of the recent events, and is she responsible?'
'Your thoughts on it?'
The cyberneticist smiled again, tapping the side of his head. 'My own processor is still calculating.'
***
‘Don’t think he trusts you,’ Yatziri’s voice laughed as Xochitl watched the blank scanner. The stealth ship she had designed was a brilliant little bundle of trouble. In the hands of Yatziri’s experienced smuggling hands, it was a ghost amongst the stars.
‘How many probes have you found?’
‘He left four in orbit and two on the surface of the planet below.’
Rex nodded looking toward Xochitl. ‘You were correct. He had a stealth ship of his own ghosting around during his visit. His own flight path covered none of those positions.’
Xochitl nodded. ‘It was the smart move for him. I am his suspect but we are in unregulated space and he has no jurisdiction here.’
‘Want me to give them a present?’ Yatziri asked.
‘No. Leave them as you found them. He is smart and will learn soon enough.’
‘The mission is still a go?’
Xochitl closed her eyes for a moment. ‘It is a go. Have fun and don’t get caught.’
Specialized Clues
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Inspector Gladsen surveyed the ruins of the tourism facility, and he noted that the recovery teams had been thorough in their work. The forensic report on a scrap of burned flesh revealed the remnants of a tribal tattoo, which was common with a known pirate group that was not too distant. However, reports on their recent activity were nonexistent.
It was no secret that there was an agreement between the pirate group and the mining system, which allowed the former to target independent vessels but forbade them from touching affiliated ships. In return, the group received a handsome fee for their discretion. This type of arrangement was a common protection racket run by most criminal organizations. Junior investigators would usually handle such cases as they were considered nuisances.
However, the wholesale destruction of a tourism facility that entertained the patronage of every representative business within the region was akin to a declaration of war against all. It guaranteed Federal navy involvement, which would ensure the pirate organization's demise. It was the perfect way to remove a rival criminal organization as the authorities would do the job for you. This was an ancient tactic, well-used throughout the centuries, but it left its own questions unanswered, as there were no near-peer rivals in the region.
The reports from the probes watching the cyborg’s carrier reported no unusual traffic. From what he had learned from the cyberneticist, he expected none. She would have foreseen this move, and like her connecting to his tablet, moves he had yet to think of, and would have planned ahead. To find out what she knew of these ruins and perhaps the pirates themselves would require him to maneuver in a way contrary to what her processor could statistically account for.
‘Sir, there is something near your position, but we can’t lock it down.’
Monty recognized it as one of the security ships in orbit. Looking at his own ship’s scanner, there was nothing.
‘Inspector, probe reports a shadow visually spotted nearing your position. We have ships responding.’
‘Position?’
‘Last spotted northeast,’ the voice responded as Month turned the nose of his own ship to face that direction. The broken terrain north of the tourism facility provided several dead zones.
A brief something he couldn’t get a positive identification on. A brief shimmer between a gap in the terrain. ‘There it is,’ he exclaimed. The planet had no atmosphere, hence no wind to stir the dirt. Disturbed dust floated in the microgravity as the object passed low and fast between the terrain features.
‘Object spotted. Unknown craft moving low and fast, northeast of the facility, heading due east. Look for floating dust.’
Monty watched as two security ship’s raced towards it, and began hailing on the open frequency.
He smiled, as it rose from the terrain, boosting hard back toward orbit. Monty recognized the Diamondback Scout ship, noting its worn paint. The preferred ship for engineering stealth designs, used by both well-to-do scavengers and assassins. This one no doubt was looking to pick the bones of the tourism facilities carcass, and thought it could fox the hounds.
The security ships were on its tail, but it was quicker than the Federal Vipers in pursuit. Still, their job would be accomplished, or so he thought until, then there was a bright blue flash, as the first Viper faltered.
‘Mayday, mayday, Viper two has lost its engines and thrusters … I have no control.’
The initial shock wore off as Monty’s eyes narrowed, examining the unfolding events. The scavenger was outrunning the security ships and could have gotten away. There was no need for it to use what could only be Ion disruption mines. His intuition and experience told him this was something more.
‘All ships, this is Inspector Gladsen. Break off pursuit immediately. Repeat, Do not continue the pursuit.’
Another bright blue flash. ‘Mayday, mayday, Viper two has been hit again. Thrusters and flight controls are non-response. I am in an uncontrolled ascent. Mayday, mayday.’
Monty shook his head. ‘Viper two this is Inspector Gladsen. Release your controls. You have been hit by Ion disruption mines. The effects are temporary. Stick with it and wait for your controls to return.’
‘Python one has visual on target breaking orbit … intercepting.’
‘Negative Python one, do not intercept or pursue … acknowledge.’
Monty looked up toward the sky, hearing only the Viper wing's communication, which was broken a few minutes later by the Python.
‘Mayday, mayday, Python one has no shields and no power. We are experiencing several random malfunctions. Flight controls, power regulator, weapons … now our vehicle bay … what the…’ The channel went dead, as Monty’s eyes narrowed.
No shields, power, and numerous random malfunctions could only mean one type of specialized engineered weapon. It was a rare and very specific modification, almost unheard of by most. He only knew of it because he had been a victim of one when he was a junior inspector, more than two decades past.
‘This is Inspector Gladsen and I am issuing a direct order to all ships. Do not intercept or pursue. Report the last known position of craft and heading. Respond.’
The airwaves filled with ships acknowledging the order.
Shaking his head, he smiled. Ion disruption mines and cytoscrambler burst lasers with a scramble spectrum. Well, at least I know that wasn’t a pirate.
***
Two systems over a Federal capital frigate and two corvettes appeared in space, above a distant moon orbiting a ringed gas giant. Wings of drop ships, assault ships, and gunships appeared, descending in haste toward a settlement identified on the surface below.
Combat vehicles appeared on the horizon, racing across the terrain toward the facility. Their goal to take out any defenses and engage any target of opportunity. Assault ships flashed passed in the sky above, shock mines falling from their hard points, blanking the facility in one long and rolling series of explosions. Another series of ships dove from various perched angles, firing barrages of unguided rockets, flak cannons. and flechette rounds into the maelstrom, adding their destructive power to the mix.
Dropships descended from above, each disgorging their contents of armored shock soldiers, who set to their assigned tasks.
The entire assault lasted less than thirty minutes, with the entire facility neutralized and captured, with no casualties to either side; there was no one present guarding it, no androids, worker bots, and the automated systems had been disabled.
Business ventures
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As a Federal Inspector, Monty wielded significant power, but he couldn't sway naval officers from performing their official duties. The attack on the pirate settlement could have disrupted his investigation, but it proved inconsequential since there was no one there to report it. Although this was fortunate in some respects, it left Monty with more questions than answers and sparked concerns throughout the region and the Federal fleet.
Despite the unlikelihood of the stealth ship belonging to the missing pirates, Monty couldn't entirely rule out the possibility. While the identification of a piece of burned flesh in the tourism facility's ruins revealed a tattoo common to the missing pirate group, it didn't prove their guilt. The survivor, who remained unemotional, and the scheming cyborg, who was on the opposite end of the spectrum, were not evidence of anything. What was lacking was solid proof. There were no recoverable records, and only one witness who happened to be in a physical location that prevented them from witnessing the events.
Monty had surveillance probes tracking Xochitl’s carrier, and they reported passenger traffic departing and the vessel visiting various orbital and planetary stations throughout the region. The customer satisfaction reports for her services were top-rated among the business community. She offered her clientele unique travel experiences, such as brief bounty hunting stints or visits to unusual sites, ensuring that each journey was distinctive. She also provided rare liquors and food, along with complimentary souvenirs from each adventure.
Rumors that Xochitl's ship was the last at the tourism facility before its destruction attracted those interested in the supernatural, as well as her regular business clients. Monty took note of this boost in her marketing, but it wasn't proof of anything. Nevertheless, the timing was convenient, and he made a mental note of it. Although he couldn't discount the possibility of Xochitl and the survivor being in coordination with each other, it didn't seem very likely.
Monty knew that obtaining answers from either the survivor or Xochitl within a reasonable timeframe was highly unlikely. His instincts told him that the missing pirates held the key to unraveling what was taking place, but the question remained: where to start looking for a clan that had vanished into the darkness of space?
Despite scanning regional navigational beacons for any unregistered or wanted ships passing through that matched the pirates' markings or identification, there were no leads. If there were any such ships, the Federal Navy would have eliminated them without hesitation. The Navy seemed to have a presence that permeated the surrounding systems, and bounty hunters were also active, seeking rewards and revenge for those who had fallen. The pirates' location was shrouded in darkness, and finding them would require nothing short of a miracle.
***
The orbital station was bustling with groups of adventurers, scavengers, miners, traders, tourists, bounty hunters, and wealthy businessmen. They moved to and fro in an eclectic mix that filled the corridors and gantryways of the station's interior. The increase in people had caused prices to go up, as businesses sought to capitalize on the massive influx of patrons. Bars and pleasure establishments sent out notifications and paid top credits for new talent and resources to satisfy the needs of their new customers.
Amid the crowds, a group of well-dressed men in fashionable, dark business attire made their way through. Their suits covered their identifying markings as they moved to specific points throughout the station to meet with the leaders of various factions in the mining industries. Each had prearranged appointments with the leaders of the larger business offices they had been tasked to visit.
Sight unseen
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Monty found himself at the orbital station's bar, staring through the crowd with a full glass in front of him. Despite giving up drinking years ago, he found himself unable to resist. His mind was locked on what his next moves should be. The survivor had been discharged from the regional hospital, but no one had thought to contact Monty, despite him being part of an ongoing investigation and contrary to the law, which required notification of any change of status. The survivor had walked out under his own power, and no one remembered him leaving.
There was no next of kin on record to contact, and the only known associate of the survivor was a local mining outfit, which had sought to hire his services as a transportation specialist. He was supposed to be meeting with them now, but the meeting time had been moved up in lieu of an emergency meeting with another business entity. There seemed to be nothing Monty could do about it. Despite being an inspector with legal authority on an active case, it appeared to mean nothing to anyone.
The only consistency in all of this was the cyborg's carrier. It had not moved since the beginning, and Monty had even seen Xochitl herself preflighting her ship as android attendants helped the latest group of business travelers board her vessel. The only thing that made sense in all of this was her nonchalant attitude toward being a suspect. Her neural processor was at least something he was finally beginning to understand, after his meeting with a cyberneticist. As he stared at his glass, he almost wished he had one.
Monty's decades of experience had taught him that throwing around his authority and bringing in those who stalled him for formal questioning was counterproductive. Businessmen who found themselves in custody tended to hire lawyers, and were often connected to those who would make his job even more difficult. The lesser types would provide either a story or something tangible that would lead back to those with lawyers, turning the investigation into a complicated mess.
Walking out of the bar, he looked up at one of the large holographic screens hovering above the corridor. The news of the tourism facility's demise that had filled their broadcast for several days was now replaced by news of the ribbon cutting for reconstruction. The place was an active crime scene and no one cared. Already the rubble was being cleared and equipment was being transported down, to rebuild it before the dust had even settled.
He chuckled to himself, wondering if the stealth ship had paid a visit to the clearing and construction crews. If it had not temporarily disabled a couple of Federal ships, it could have passed as a smuggler with bad timing. However, by making its presence known, it advertised itself for what it was: a message. Monty knew that the Federation was the intended recipient, but he couldn't determine who the sender was. With a ship like that and the proper loadout, they could have caused a lot of casualties, but they had chosen weaponry contrary to that, leaving none harmed.
Monty raised his data tablet and sent a message to the Federation's main office. He tried to remain composed, but there were lines that he could not allow anyone to cross during an active investigation. He knew that his request would likely start a whirlwind of legal activity through the corridors of power in the region, but he needed to get everyone's focused attention. Sometimes he needed to demonstrate his displeasure, even if just to rattle a few trees and see if anything would fall out.
Across the corridor Jason sat in the local security divisions waiting room, looking out the large front window toward Inspector Gladsen.
***
Xochitl smiled to herself as she read the latest news article on the mystery ship that was roving the space lanes, terrorizing the Federal navy. The media talking heads were all speculating on wild and inaccurate theories, but Xochitl knew the truth. The ghost ship was a message, but not one directed at the larger Federation. It was intended for Inspector Gladsen, who had been using stealth probes to spy on her carrier.
Xochitl couldn't let that go without a response, and since Gladsen's probes had caused them no harm, her stealth ship would respond in kind. They would give them no real harm, outside of the headaches the ship produced for them, but it would provide some entertainment for Yatziri, who enjoyed watching them chase their own tails. Xochitl was amused by the whole situation, knowing that Gladsen was likely frustrated and trying to find a way to catch them.
Xochitl smirked as she planned to rub Gladsen's face in the situation a little more before calling Yatziri off. She looked out from the cockpit of her passenger ship towards the line of recently departed business passengers. The day had been lucrative, and she wanted to spread her joy to more than just herself, so she connected with the orbital station's florist. A nice anonymous bouquet of roses and chocolates for the inspector, with a "get well soon" card, seemed appropriate and amusing.
She chuckled to herself as she placed the order with the florist, imagining Gladsen's confusion when he received the gift. She knew it was a little petty, but she couldn't resist the opportunity to play with the inspector's mind a bit. As her ship lifted off from the station, she couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the thought of Gladsen trying to figure out the message behind the ghost ship's actions. She knew that eventually she would have to call Yatziri off, but for now, it was too much fun.
Forceful Rentry
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Monty understood the basic nature of humans to believe that bad things happen to others but never to themselves. They were often oblivious and narcissistic to a fault. However, his switch to the heavy-handed approach generated the offense he sought. Lawyers began to appear from nowhere, seeking to capitalize on the paranoia and faux hubris of those with more money than sense.
Federal agents flooded into the station, despite the protest of its chief of security. Naval fighters began patrolling outside of the station's perimeter, replacing the local enforcement ships. Everyone arriving and departing the station was subjected to mandatory scans, and all patrons of the station were individually scanned. The heads of industry with offices onboard were subjected to questioning as well. The rapid influx of legal filings flooded the courts, effectively blocking all lesser proceedings. The situation was escalating quickly, which is where Monty needed it to be.
Monty watched as the lawyers protested against their well-suited clients being subjected to scans and questioning as if they were common criminals. He listened impassively, enduring their threats of legal motions to be levied against him and his office as the doors to the conference room opened. A team of armored-suited Naval infantry filed into the room, weapons at the low ready, as a contingent of legal attaches from the Federal Justice Department arrived.
Standing up, Inspector Gladsen looked at each of the lawyers' faces. 'Now that I have your undivided attention, know this. Any further threats will be met with their own legal action. If you have any concerns, you will direct them to these gentlemen. Until such time, I have questions and you and your clients may or may not have the answers.'
The room fell silent as the legal attaches and Monty began to question the heads of industry. The lawyers sat in tense silence, knowing that their clients' fate rested on their ability to provide satisfactory answers. The questioning was thorough, and the tension in the room grew palpable as each answer brought more questions.
As the questioning came to an end, Monty thanked the legal attaches for their help and dismissed the heads of industry and their lawyers. As they filed out of the room, Monty sat back in his chair, feeling exhausted. He felt the investigation had finally gained traction, but it felt hollow. He knew inside that he was nowhere nearer to finding the truth. A chance for real answers lay with those who had gone missing…all except one; the cyborg.
Monty raised his data tablet, typing out a new request to his home office. If she could think ahead of him so deftly, then he needed a new approach. Unknown to him was the difference had arrived in the corridor, as Jason looked at the armored guard, who tapped his handheld scanner several times before snapping to attention. The other guards near him looked on a their compatriot curiously before following suit.
Jason looked at the armored guard, as he tapped his handheld scanner several times before snapping to attention. The other guards near him looked on a their compatriot curiously before following suit.
‘My apologies sir. The inspector is in the conference room at the end of the corridor.’
‘Detain him for me.’
New Perspective
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Inspector Gladsen got up from the floor as the armored soldiers left the room, sealing the door behind them. Monty rubbed the back of his neck and sat across from Jason, who looked on impassively. Monty noticed the man's eyes had a curious and hollow look, which had a hypnotic quality to them that was unfamiliar to him.
Monty spoke up, ‘That was quite a trick. How did a low-end smuggler like you manage to get Federation naval personnel to do your bidding?’
Jason studied Monty briefly before responding, ‘You have positioned yourself to become a nuisance to my efforts, but we believe you may be of use.’
‘Who are we?’ Monty asked, studying Jason closely.
‘You have a position that allows for maneuvering through the morass you have created beyond these walls. With that, this hindrance can be mitigated.’
Monty chuckled. ‘That is where we will disagree. The mess you and that cyborg have made have all but ensured that neither of you will escape justice. How the pirate clan fits into all of this, I don’t know yet, but I will. It is only a matter of time before we find them too.’
The lights flickered as did Inspector Gladsen’s data tablet, as Jason tilted his head in curiosity. ‘We understand. You assume your compliance is a choice. Our informing you of this decision was a courtesy of our new directive.’
Monty felt disoriented and nauseated as he leaned forward, bracing himself on the table.
The voice he heard sounded different ... not Jason’s. ‘Do not fear inspector. To become requires your health and well-being. Your service will be until our task is complete, then you will be released.’
Monty took a deep breath, trying to center himself. ‘I won't be a pawn in your game,’ he said firmly. ‘I have a duty to uphold justice and the law, and I won't compromise that for anyone or anything.’
His vision faded as Monty collapsed on the floor, the voice telling him, ‘You will continue with your investigation into the pirate clan and the cyborg known as Xochitl but from a new perspective. We will aid in your efforts.’
***
As Monty's eyes opened, the silence of the unfamiliar room felt unsettling. The lights flickered again, drawing his attention. He felt a slight pinch in his arm and followed the tube from his arm to an IV bag hanging above. Confused, Monty struggled to recall how he ended up in this place, and where he was. His last memory was of the businessmen and their lawyers leaving the conference room.
He looked around the room, trying to make sense of his surroundings. The room was small, with plain white walls and a single door. He noticed a small desk with a computer terminal, which he assumed was for monitoring his condition.
As he lay there, he began to think about his investigation and the events that had led him to this point. He felt a strong sense of drive and motivation, but there was no clear direction. He was anxious to get back on the trail of the missing pirates, and devise a method for sidetracking the cyborg, Xochitl, to see if he could cull out of her, what she knew of the events at the tourism facility.
Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and a woman in a white lab coat walked in. ‘Ah, Inspector Gladsen, you're awake,’ she said, smiling at him.
Monty sat up, feeling more alert now. ‘Where am I?’ he asked.
‘You're in a medical facility on the outskirts of the station,’ the woman replied. ‘You collapsed from what appeared to be exhaustion. We've been monitoring you for the past few days.’
‘Days!’ Monty exclaimed, feeling a sense of adrenaline course through him as he pushed himself to sit up.
‘Yes, you've been here for three days,’ the woman confirmed, checking his IV bag. ‘But you're doing much better now. We were concerned about your health, so we kept you under observation.’
Monty felt a wave of frustration wash over him. He had lost three precious days of investigation, and he had no idea how much ground he had lost. ‘Can I leave now?’ he asked, feeling eager to get back to work.
The woman nodded. ‘Yes, but I'd like to run a few more tests to make sure you're fully recovered.’
‘I don't have time for that,’ Monty replied, trying to get himself out of the bed and his feet on the ground as the nurse walked over.
‘Inspector, you should really let us finish our test first. Neither of us wants a repeat of what happened to you.’
‘I need to contact my office,’ Monty declared excitedly. ‘They need to know what has happened.’
‘They already know,’ the nurse explained, trying to cover him with the blanket. ‘The station’s security chief and a naval officer came by earlier to check on you. Both of them said that everything was quiet around the region and that you should rest. They have everything under control.’
Monty became perturbed knowing that both the station’s security and the Federal navy would both be happy to not have him kicking the sand in their box. ‘Oh, I’m sure nothing has been going on since I’ve been here. Listen, I need to get out of here, asap. Get your test done as quick as possible, and I still need to contact my office.’
The nurse nodded. ‘I will get the doctor and your personal effects, but you need to stay in this bed until he has had a chance to talk to you … promise.’
Monty rolled his eyes. ‘Fine, but make it quick. The trail is getting colder the longer I’m here.’
The nurse walked down the hall, finding the doctor nearby talking with another man.
Plain Sight
_____________________________
Sitting at the bar, Inspector Gladsen couldn't even feel enraged. The trail wasn't cold, it had vanished entirely. The news holograms held no mention of even the reconstruction project taking place at what used to be an active crime scene. His wrangling all of the minor factions mining corporations into the same room with Federation Justice Dept attorneys meant nothing. The moment his body determined enough was enough, everyone forgot about him as quickly as possible and went back to business as usual.
Sure, he had the authority to have each of them prosecuted for interfering in an active investigation, willful contamination of a crime scene, and even conspiracy, but to what end? Shutting down an entire region's economy would be a career-ending move for him, even if he was legally justified in doing so. It seemed that everyone wanted to forget the bodies and wreckage of the tourism facility.
From across the bar, a group of well-dressed and groomed businessmen sat, huddled around their untouched drinks, looking to their reclining patron, who simply nodded his head as one of their members rose and walked over to the bar, next to the inspector.
Extending his arm onto the bar, the tattoo hidden underneath was briefly shown, as he held out his hand. ‘Could I get a refill please…chilled?’
Monty caught the tattoo out of the corner of his eye, turning his head slowly to look at it, and the person it belonged to, who appeared not to notice the gaze of the man next to him. Taking his new drink, the man walked back to the group he had come from, with Monty's eyes following. He realized that his investigation was not dead on arrival but had just begun. The pirates who had vanished from the system did not leave but got even closer. They had vanished in plain sight.
Despite not being a regular drinker, Monty quickly consumed the contents of his glass before leaving the bar. He now had a lead on the pirates' description and place of origin, but to make any progress in his investigation, he needed to gather information on their patterns and frequented locations. However, he knew he couldn't involve the local security services, who, like everyone else, wanted to sweep the previous incidents under the rug. Therefore, he needed to conduct surveillance discreetly and gather information on his own.
Returning to his ship, he checked on the surveillance probes he had ghosting Xochitl’s carrier. If she had any knowledge of the pirates or their activities, he would need to know this ahead of time, and not get blindsided. He didn’t know why, but he doubted this scenario and knew he needed to be thorough. The information he received was the same as it had been since the days he had the probes placed. During the three days he was down, her pattern had changed from one of business passenger runs, to ferry runs between her carrier and a nearby agricultural-based system.
That systems navigational beacon recorded her transponder making frequent visits to a planetary habitat, with two trips to a neighboring technology broker. Monty pulled her record up in a separate tab, refreshing himself on her biographical. A ship propulsion specialist and mechanic, spending time at a planetary ag dome with a couple of trips to a broker. Monty chuckled, recognizing the pattern. Old habits were hard to break for this cyborg. She was elbow deep in their equipment, not paying any obvious attention to what was taking place nearby. A little voice inside of him doubted that.
***
Xochitl closed the access panel on the tracked agricultural robotic tractor, as the little bot whirled, racing off toward a charging station, following its programmed directive to recharge itself.
‘They filled my cargo hold full of produce,’ Art commented to Xochitl as she watched the little bot.
‘Have you had a chance to look at the mineral listing for the distant resource extraction rings I sent you?’
‘I have, but curious about the pristine rings in the nearby system. The contracts are good and the naval presence has chased the pirates away. Seems like staying here is good for the wallet.’
Xochitl turned her head to look at him. ‘Listen, Art, you are an independent contractor now with your own ship. If that is what you want to do, I will not stop you. As for my carrier and its crew, we will be departing soon. You have read the same reports that I have from Yatziri. There is a darkness lurking in that gleaming gem, and the tourism facility was just the start.’
‘You think the pirates will reappear?’
‘Something far worse than them is lurking about, and both times I attempted to destroy it, I failed.’
‘Rex briefed us on it. You think it survived the tourism facility?’
‘I do. When the inspector made a casual mention of a survivor I thought it was a poor baiting attempt. Now we know the pirates have disappeared and their settlement was abandoned, meaning they, or more correctly, it, knew an attack was coming. There was no way for it to survive inside the cells of the deceased. Once their host had ceased functioning, their cells would lose their charge within minutes, and at the most within an hour. There was only one potential left at the base I collapsed on top of it.’
‘Do you think the inspector knows of this or is infected himself?’
Xochitl shrugged. ‘I don’t think he knew, otherwise, his questions would have been different. As for now, it is anyone’s guess, and I want distance between me and it.’
‘Shouldn’t you tell whoever is commanding the Federal fleet?’
Xochitl chuckled. ‘You are prior Federal navy...would you?’
‘Fair point. They will either think you are a nut or if they have knowledge of it, then they will want that knowledge contained.’
A smirk formed on Xochitl’s face. ‘In that statement is my concern. I have been conciliatory to a fault, enduring the surveillance on me and mine. Time to put some distance between us and see what the next move will be.’
Bunting
_____________________________
Inspector Gladsen breathed a deep sigh of relief upon receiving approval of the evidence he had submitted to the regional Federal courts and the warrants he had sought. He knew that his case, the destruction of the tourism facility, would have otherwise been filed away as a cold case, and he might have been reassigned. With the discovery of the pirates vanishing in plain sight, as businessmen who frequented a bar where mining executives gathered, coupled with the news of the failed merger between the Federation control system's corporation and the minor faction in the system, he was more than confident that a judicial ruling would be made in his favor.
Following the approval of the warrants, a cargo ship had been dispatched to his position, appearing as a normal cargo transport, but in reality, it was a data ship equipped with banks of processing and storage, enabling its crew to monitor, process, and store all communications. Every message would be recorded, and no one would be able to send or receive any communication without the team's knowledge.
He placed the first communications tap on the station's security services, knowing that corruption could not have occurred without the involvement of someone within their ranks. Additional taps were placed on the station's communications and each of the minor factions' mining corporate executives, leaving nothing to chance.
Although he had no authority over military assets, Monty still petitioned his boss and the regional court to request a temporary pullback of the military presence in the area, as it would deter the players involved from making any further moves with warships patrolling the zone. While preparing to present a case for continued out-of-sector surveillance on Xochitl's carrier, he checked his probe logs and found that she had departed several hours earlier.
Monty knew that there was no way for her to have known what he had discovered or what he had filed with the courts, and he could not establish his suspicions as facts. He only had a gut feeling that she knew more than she was willing to admit, and there was no evidence to support his theory. Still, he could not shake the feeling that Xochitl was hiding something.
Monty quickly tracked down Xochitl's carrier, which was capable of covering up to 500 light-years in a jump. However, Xochitl's carrier had only traveled a little over 100 light-years and positioned itself in a non-inhabited system surrounded by anarchy systems. Upon studying the systems, Monty realized that Xochitl wasn't running away from his investigation but was rather positioning herself in a protective posture. The question remained: from whom, or from what?
As Inspector Gladsen stared at the list of suspects and the warrants he had obtained, a peculiar feeling washed over him. Despite everything appearing to be correct and in order, he couldn't shake the nagging discomfort that accompanied it. He couldn't help but question how he knew with such certainty the actions of the cyborg, and why he felt so confident in his deductions. There was none of the usual internal dialogue, the back-and-forth of what-ifs and the exploration of alternative possibilities that usually occupied his mind. It was as if the equations had been simplified, the uncertainties removed, leading him to a neat and tidy conclusion. And that level of certainty, he knew from his decades of experience, was far too convenient and unsettling for his liking.
***
Caleb Thorn maintained a stoic expression as Jason walked out of his office. Thorn was enjoying his feeling of accomplishment, believing that contrary to the norm, the pirates his organization's front company had hired, would not require the usual additional bounties for mercenaries to clean out. He believed this was due to the heavy naval presence. For Caleb, he believed the risk he took in hiring pirates was worth the results, as the competitor's minor factions application for a merger was denied by the controlling system’s Federation entity.
Jason walked out onto the causeway in front of the mining corporation's office, making sure to look at the station's surveillance camera, before walking away. What Mr. Thorn did not realize was the new role he would soon play. To become required sacrifice. Sacrifice it could not take of its own violation but through the efforts of others in a quest for their larger concepts of legalities. To become had acquired assets and allies, now required security. Security required consolidation and anonymity. Achieving this required sacrifice.
Backflow Transactions
_____________________________
With Xochitl far away from his reach Monty had the surveillance probes picked up and repurposed watching closer items of interest. Though he did not expect them to reveal anything of interest, he had one watching the abandoned pirate base, another orbiting over the construction efforts on the new tourism facility, with another watching the traffic at the orbital station, where he was based.
All communications traffic was being monitored by the docked data ship, along with the system's navigational beacon. Anything transiting or transmitting would be tracked and recorded. It was a tedious process, but it was progress.
Monty carefully examined the flagged information from the data ship's AI, focusing on the peculiar set schedule of mining transports making regular runs to an agricultural settlement where Xochitl had recently performed mechanical work. The fact that the loaded ships never unloaded upon returning to the station raised a red flag in his mind. While it could be dismissed as normal commodities run, Monty couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to it than met the eye.
He decided to dig deeper into the transactions, tracking the movement of credits generated from these runs. What he discovered was a complex web of financial maneuvers, with the proceeds being funneled into various investments before eventually ending up in a non-physical entity. It was a classic case of shell companies, commonly employed by larger entities for different purposes. However, the sheer volume of runs and the lack of any regional systems in need of such massive credit transfers piqued Monty's interest.
Further investigation led him to a charitable foundation, listed as the recipient of these funds. On the surface, it appeared to be a commendable cause, providing aid to those affected by famine or outbreaks. The foundation boasted tax-free operations and proudly displayed its open balance sheet, showcasing the number of credits used for philanthropic endeavors. It seemed like a perfect cover, particularly for public appearances and business mixers.
Yet, the discrepancies couldn't be ignored. The frequency of the runs and the absence of any significant regions grappling with dire circumstances raised suspicion. The fact that the credits were being transferred to accounts unaffiliated with any identifiable physical entity further deepened the enigma. Monty enlisted the assistance of an AI to analyze these transactions, revealing a complex network of additional shell companies, and gradually unveiling a convoluted money laundering scheme.
Now, Monty found himself questioning the necessity of such a scheme when the original credits derived from legitimate trade. His focus shifted to the timing of the transactions. The transfers had commenced two rotations before the incident at the tourism facility and rapidly intensified within a week of the event.
The image of the pirate tattoo on the arm of a suave businessman played repeatedly in his mind. This wasn't mere money laundering; it was a peculiar form of payment, precisely aligning with the charity's stated mission of providing assistance. There was only one group that had been displaced in this intricate scheme—the pirates themselves.
As the puzzle pieces gradually fit together, Monty inputted the gathered information into the AI, leveraging its processing power to analyze and synthesize the vast amount of data and communications it had captured and parsed.
***
Xochitl reclined in her chair, taking a slow sip of her cold beer as her eyes scanned the monitors before her.
'Your inspector appears to be baiting a trap,' Avery stated, pointing to a monitor displaying the dwindling numbers of Federation naval vessels in the system.
Rex nodded, confirming Yatziri's earlier report. 'She noticed the same pattern. The fleets were being monitored, and suddenly they all turned and started jumping out of the system together.'
Leaning forward, Zarathustra cradled her drink in her hands, her voice filled with curiosity. 'If I were in his position, baiting the pirates out of hiding would be a clever move. But it raises important questions. What does he really know about the pirates and their involvement? And more importantly, who gave the order to the fleet?'
Rex nodded again, his brow furrowing in contemplation. 'You're right. An inspector doesn't have the authority to command the military. This begs the question of his true motives and what information he might possess.'
The room fell into a pensive silence as Xochitl continued to sip her beer, lost in thought. Rex and Zarathustra watched her closely, waiting for her to share her insights.
'What are you thinking?' Avery finally asked, breaking the silence.
Xochitl looked up, her gaze focused and determined. 'There are too many unknowns, too many variables. I'm not willing to risk my crew based on uncertainties.'
Zarathustra grunted, leaning closer to Xochitl. 'I don't need a neural net to guess what's on your mind. You're considering the possibility that the inspector has been replaced or compromised.'
Raising an eyebrow, Rex chimed in. 'That's an unsettling thought.'
Xochitl shook her head. 'Regardless of whether he's been compromised or replaced, we need to understand who gave the order to change the fleet's course and how much they know about our operations.'
'One way to find out,' Avery suggested, looking at Xochitl.
Xochitl nodded. 'Yes, but we need to ensure our safety in case Gladsen has indeed been compromised.'
Avery turned to the group. 'If we invite him, we must isolate both him and his ship. The invitation should make it clear that no signals will be accepted or sent by his ship. He will need to follow a specific course in a clearly marked vessel, so we can identify him. He should be informed that the moment he disembarks, he will be isolated and subjected to a thorough bio-scan.'
Zarathustra frowned, voicing her concern. 'He would never agree to those terms. It would leave him vulnerable, outside Federation territory, and you're essentially letting him know in advance that he will be detained and scanned.'
Xochitl let out a weary sigh. 'As an experienced inspector, the seriousness of our security measures will pique his curiosity. It will imply that we possess more information than we've shared. If he has been compromised, the entity within him will welcome the opportunity to eliminate a loose end. Statistically, the odds are in our favor that he will accept the invitation.'
The room fell into a heavy silence, each person grappling with the weight of the decisions and risks they were about to undertake. But they knew that in this dangerous game, they had to be prepared to make bold moves and trust their instincts, even if it meant exposing themselves to potential danger.