Boss King and the Blade

Wednesday

Trixie Smith’s Private Residence, Central District, Spitfield

Trixie

“I’m home” Trixie called out and her room-mate answered from the tiny living room. She headed down the short entry hall, discarding her gun belt, heavy boots and uniform cap as she went.

“Did you have a good day?” she asked as she entered the room. Her room-mate regarded her sleepily from the two-seater sofa, stretched out full length in luxurious comfort. The mottled grey cat rolled onto its back, giving her the full weight of his regard and meowed in reply to her question.

Trixie lowered her big frame onto the narrow strip of chair her cat hadn’t claimed and rubbed his belly affectionately. She had heard that most cats won’t let you rub their stomachs, unlike the much more amenable dogs of the world, but Sirius let her stroke him without complaint.

“Are you hungry?” she asked and Sirius meowed in what she knew to be the affirmative. She tousled his speckled grey ears then stood, her pet rolling onto his side then leaping from the sofa. Together they went into the adjoining kitchen space, headed for the refrigerator.

“I had a big win today, but it came at a great price” she told Sirius as she rummaged in the open chiller. She selected a pre-packaged tuna salad bowl for herself and a small portion of chicken mince for the cat. The salad bowl was set on her small dining table and another bowl was placed on the floor.

“I hope you know how much this costs” she informed the cat, a fussy eater at the best of times. “This is real chicken you know, not just textured protein” She set the minced meat in his bowl and sat herself in the solitary dining chair, watching with delight as Sirius leapt on the fresh food. His simple enthusiasm helped keep her own despair at bay, thinking on the pointless death of Marv Jackson.

Trixie opened her own meal, tearing open the sachet of dressing and squirting it over the salad. She grabbed a fork and started to eat, making sure she chewed each mouthful properly. Like the few other rescued clones she knew, they were always hungry and tended to wolf their food down far too quickly.

Now that she had to manage her own food intake, unlike the regimented lives of the Guard Units still in service to Archimedes, she was careful to limit her eating. All the clones needed far more calories for their size than regular humans, but without being careful she could easily eat too much too quickly.

While she ate, she pulled out the data crystal she had recovered that morning. It looked just like any other crystal, made from clear Ceramiglass and faceted like a diamond the size of a big marble. A faint tracery of silicon web could be seen within, easily discernible using her Enhanced right eye. The crystal looked like the real thing, with the correct serial number etched on one face.

She put down her fork and slid her datapad across in front of her. The data crystal was loaded into the reader and almost instantly the logon screen flashed up. Trixie entered her authorisation code, one that her boss Jericho-Three had given her some time ago. The stored data began to flow across her screen, too much to absorb at once, so she activated the holo-screen function.

A projector on the front of the data pad threw a big three-dimensional image over her dining table, showing all of the different data files that it contained. Most were day to day operational files, of little interest to anyone but the most dedicated of accountants.

She slid the control thimbles over her left and right index fingers, which allowed her to interface directly with the holographic display. First she opened the dispatch logs for the Guard Units on duty back in June of 2044, searching for the date she was assigned to the Border patrol.

Soon, she found the data she had been hunting for over the past two years. The orders that sent her and her Guard partner to locate and recover a young mother and her daughter, supposedly fleeing from the Zone and into the nation of Australia.

Trixie hadn’t known she was crying until Sirius jumped up onto the table, his fluffy grey tail wiggling upright into the hologram images. He meowed at her in concern, forcing his big furred head into her raised hands.

She sniffled, wiped her left eye with her sleeve, then gave the cat an affectionate rub under his chin. He purred appreciatively, demanding she use both hands, so the screen above him whirled and shimmered as the thimbles sent strange commands to the data pad.

“They were innocent people, Sirius” she whispered to her cat. “Just a mother and daughter, running from the Board of Governors, trying to find a better life outside of the Zone”

Sirius blinked at her with his pale grey eyes, unfazed by the soft green glow from her artificial right eye. Trixie knew he was a cat and only loved her because she fed him, yet there was no-one else in the whole world who reciprocated her affections. She swept the startled cat into a hug, pulling his warm body against her own.

Trixie remembered clearly the moment she had spotted the desperate and weak woman, holding the young girl in her arms. They had been exhausted, thirsty and hungry she could tell through the massive sniper scope atop her rifle. She could see every aspect of their plight and was moved to spare them.

Her wishes were refused and Archimedes took direct control of her body, using her hands to fire the big rifle. Trixie had been pushed aside in her own mind, an unwilling spectator as two lives were snuffed out in an instant.

There were background details given for the mother and child. The woman was listed as Amber Gregson and the child was Trixie Gregson, both formerly residents of Pan City. It was a cold trail, but Trixie needed to find out all she could about these two innocent victims. One good officer had already lost his life so she could find this lead and she was determined to follow it through.

“I need to go back to work” she told Sirius and placed him carefully on the tiled floor. “Will you be Okay by yourself until tonight?”

Sirius regarded her with what she interpreted as a grumpy expression. Trixie chose to ignore the evidence and assume he was fine with her plans.

“Good” she affirmed. “I’ll bring you back something nice for supper”

=====

She dressed in street clothes, dark denim jeans paired with a grey shirt, topped with a lightweight jacket of mottled greens and greys. Her armour vest was strapped under the shirt and her pistol and Stun Wand were holstered at her back, concealed under the flowing jacket.

For this journey she chose a short blonde wig, the fringe cut straight and low across her brow. A mesh eye-patch covered her Enhanced right eye, hiding the implant so she looked less like a Guard clone and more like a Freelancer. The patch itself barely hindered the functions of her artificial eye, letting her see the disapproving glare from Sirius as she headed to the door.

“I’m not ashamed of how I look” she told her cat. “I just need to look more like a regular human today”

Sirius turned from her in obvious disgust and began licking at his right forepaw with casual indifference.

“I love you” she told him. He refused to face her and wandered down the hall, heading for their shared bedroom. Feeling deflated somehow, Trixie sighed and exited the apartment.

The love of cats is hard to win, yet Trixie was relentless in everything she did in her life. She would win him over in the end.

=====

Her apartment was one of a hundred in the residential tower, a towering edifice of concrete and glass that sat near the heart of Spitfield’s Central District. The rent each month was extortionate for the tiny set of rooms, but it was within walking distance of the Police Auxiliary Headquarters.

The other bonus was it lay a short distance from the Central Metro station, the only station that had a line that ran to Pan City. As she walked into the station, barely an hour past noon, a pair of uniformed Police Auxiliaries intercepted her.

“Ident please, ma’am” the male officer demanded curtly, holding out his left hand. His right lay casually on the holstered pistol at his hip. His partner, a female officer nearly as tall as Trixie, had stepped slightly to the side, meaning if Trixie did anything unexpected (like drawing a weapon) she was out of arm’s reach and could react quickly.

Trixie showed them the fake Identity record that her boss had crafted for her two years ago, flashing it up on her phone. It was one of many she had, using them as the situation required. The male officer leaned forwards, running his eyes over the details presented.

“Trixie Smith, Licenced Private Detective” he read out suspiciously. ”Registered as an Enhanced with non-lethal implants, licenced to operate in all sectors of the Zone”

He had leaned back and gave her a look over, as if his flesh and blood eyes could somehow see through her skin.

“Is there a problem, Officer?” she asked pleasantly.

It was the female officer who answered, giving her own hard look at Trixie.

“We had an incident at Headquarters this morning, Miss Smith” she explained. “An unidentified woman was involved and a City-wide alert has been issued. Your face came up with a close match to the suspect from the station security cameras”

The officer pointed at the cameras dotted around the walls and ceiling of the station as if to prove her statement. Trixie had to smile a little on the inside, since it was images from her Enhanced eye that had been provided to the Police technicians. It was kind of ironic that her own evidence had led to this interception.

“I can assure you, Officers, that I am not the woman you are looking for” Trixie responded smoothly. “Do I have the same height and build as the suspect?”

The male officer had the decency to look a little embarrassed as he checked the data file on a handheld pad.

“Ah, no you don’t” he admitted. Trixie knew for a fact she was taller and broader than the slender intruder had been. “Our apologies for detaining you, Miss Smith. Please have a nice day”

The pair stepped aside and Trixie continued towards the stairs that led to the below ground platforms. Behind her, she heard a faint slap as the female officer punched the male in the shoulder.

“Told you she was too big!” the officer chastised him. “Check the damn data next time!”

Trixie wondered how many alerts the cameras would generate every time a Jill from the Guard walked in front of one. They all shared the same face and there would be hundreds of female Guard Units deployed around Spitfield right now.

She had a suspicion the Police Auxiliary officers were going to be chasing a lot of false leads in the coming days.

=====

Residential Tower, District Seven, Pan City

It was well into the afternoon when Trixie arrived at the last known address of Amber and Trixie Gregson. The towering structure was older than the surrounding residential housing, built in the early days of the City and barely occupied now.

The records she extracted from the City’s Planning department indicated the old tower was scheduled to be demolished within a year, a newer and taller replacement planned to house twice as many residents as the original. Currently the files claimed only a bare dozen of the hundred apartments were occupied, elderly residents who were averse to moving to a newer facility until they actually knocked the tower down around their ears.

Her Police issue smart-key opened the dust smeared outer doors, two of the glass panels cracked and starred, leading to an equally aged and decrepit lobby. Of the three elevators that serviced the upper floors, two had faded “Out of Service” notices taped across the doors. The third pinged open reluctantly with a squeak of mis-aligned doors and she stepped warily into its embrace.

Amber and Trixie had apparently lived on the sixth floor as part of a communal living group known as the Busy Bee Society. Such non-familial groups had become common in the world after the V-Bomb, with many children and adults the sole survivors of their families. The Zone had granted such groups the same legal rights as families, which led to more flourishing in later years as people chose to distance from their biological families and join these communities instead.

The elevator doors opened on a sparse, poorly lit reception area. Stained and torn chairs lined the walls, an ancient drinks dispenser still humming to itself in a corner. A dust covered reception desk sat in the middle, an empty swivel chair behind it, waiting vainly for someone to appear and greet any visitors. Everything Trixie could see showed this place had been empty for a long time.

She moved forwards with cat-like grace, mimicking the stealthy prowl of Sirius as he roamed her apartment. A set of double doors led deeper into the facility, past a bright yellow sign that declared she was entering the Happy Hive of the Busy Bees Society. Beyond was a broad corridor, lined by doors labelled with descriptions like “Advanced Therapy Room” and “Mental Conditioning Chamber”.

Trixie stalked to the far end of the corridor, then paused at a final large door. A small object had caught her eye, half hidden behind scattered pieces of paper and trash in a corner. She knelt and drew it out, recognising the device immediately.

It was the outer container of a Stun Gas grenade, the dull black plastic once housing a potent dose of knock-out gas. They were used by Guard Units to subdue suspects without causing any lasting injury, the gas effective on regular people but having no impact on Guard clones like herself.

“Somebody had a fight here, against the Guard I guess” she murmured to herself. She carefully put the grenade casing on the ground once more and stood, facing the imposing door. Unlike the other doors, this one was solidly made and was smart-locked. A simple sign identified it as the Dormitory.

Trixie laid her left palm against the scanning pad for the door’s smart-lock, feeling a faint tingle run through her implants. The scanner was designed to detect the signals from the pads in her fingertips, the same ones that allowed her to operate Guard weapons and vehicles. Civilian versions existed but she was surprised to see this level of security around a Communal Family residence.

Her Police smart-key gave no response at all from the door, so she drew an electronic lock-picker from a pouch at her hip. She connected the induction cable via a small pad to the magnetic port under her forehead, linking the device to the formidable Quantum Processor in her skull. The signal emitter was laid against the scanning pad and she commenced to hack the security code.

Trixie was not a hacker as such, but half of her mind was a super computer with all sorts of useful programs stored within its immense storage capacity. The code was broken between one blink of her organic eye and the next, yielding to her superior processing power.

It slid open, long un-used banks of lights flickering to life as she gazed at the rows of bunks and closets that filled the broad space. Like the outer offices, everything had a layer of dust over it, signs of long neglect where-ever she looked. Trixie tucked her lock-pick away and stepped inside, her eyes flesh and artificial looking over the abandoned dormitory.

Some bunks were neatly made, the blankets and pillows folded into a tidy bundle at the foot of each mattress. Others were scattered on the beds and floor, as if the occupant had leapt from their slumber in haste. Beside each pair of bunks, one stacked over the other, were metal lockers such as found in a military barracks. These invariably hung open, their contents long removed.

Trixie went along the rows, counting twenty sets of double bunks and matching lockers, meaning up to forty people could have lived here. A closed pair of lockers caught her attention, with neatly printed names indicating who had used the adjacent beds.

The names were Michael-Four and Melody-Five.

With a hammering heart she searched the rows of bunks and lockers until she found what she sought. Two lockers, side by side, labelled as Thomas-Four and Trixie-Four. Her hand reached forward gently, tracing the simple name with her index finger.

“She was here” Trixie breathed out at last, her voice the only noise in the whole place.

Until she heard a mechanical door open somewhere close by, voices echoing loudly with laughter and taunts. A girl’s voice, high and frightened, cut through the deeper male voices, begging to be set free.