Boss King and the Blade

Thursday, October 2046

Trixie’s Apartment, Central District

Trixie

Her internal clock told her it was just after Five AM, meaning she had slept for over three and a half hours. For a clone it was a full night’s sleep, leaving Trixie refreshed in body although not in spirit. She got out of her bed and headed to the shower, wondering where Sirius had gotten to. It was unlike the cat not to spend the night perched on her broad shoulders or snuggled up against her spine.

She washed and dressed with efficient speed, zipping her muscled body into a close fitting armour weave jumpsuit. Over that she slipped on a dark grey jacket, also with reactive armour gel in hidden panels, followed by a deep blue half-skirt that was split at her right hip. Heavy black boots completed her outfit, with the mesh eyepatch covering her Sniper eye once more.

Satisfied she looked suitably like the Freelancer Ident she intended on using today, she headed to the living room. Trixie could move quieter than a hunting cat when she needed to, yet Sirius meowed softly at her as soon as she peeked into the room. The feline was draped comfortably over Abbie’s shoulder, the girl fast asleep in the swag she had brought with her.

The swag was one of those camping versions, a kind of sleeping bag with its own self-inflating mattress and hood that could be raised to keep out the weather. Abbie had left the hood down, her sleeping face easily visible to Trixie’s right eye. Trixie had tried to get the girl to sleep in the proper bed, explaining that as an ex-Guard she could sleep anywhere, even standing up.

Abbie had refused, telling her that sleeping in the air-conditioned living room was like Paradise after a year underground. She had chatted a little with Trixie when she had returned from the Headquarters, then had cheerfully gone to bed. It appeared that Sirius had taken to their new houseguest too, since he must have slept with Abbie all night.

Trixie dampened her feelings of jealousy, glad that the pair of them were getting on so well. She had been telling Abbie the truth when she told her how much she disliked leaving Sirius home alone so often. The cat in question regarded his owner with semi-closed eyes for a moment longer, then settled himself on the girl’s warm shoulder once more.

“Traitor” she whispered with a faint smile and went along the short corridor into the kitchen space. Moving as quietly as she could, she made herself a big bowl of porridge, laden with some dried fruit, and a cup of instant coffee. She sat at the table to eat, opening up her datapad to review the files from Jericho-Three.

The girl in the file, using the name of Melody, was definitely created from the Guard gene-code. What interested Trixie was how the three she knew of, including the assassin from the Records Hall, had been grown to different ages. All the Guard clones were intended to be created as full adults, with an approximate biological age of their mid-twenties.

Yet these three girls had ages ranging from around five or six to late teens. Why someone would risk creating immature clones was confusing, unless they used a different cloning process. The answer hit Trixie like a thunderbolt.

They weren’t grown in clone tanks like the Guard! She felt certain the clone embryos were implanted into women and grew to full term in a womb. These three girls hadn’t been decanted, they had been born!

She sat back in her chair, sipping at the last of her coffee in stunned contemplation.

“They had mothers!” she whispered to herself. “Mothers gave birth to all these children, nursing them and raising them to adults”

It would have been an easier process than using cloning tanks, that was definite. Yet the mothers would have needed specialist care and nutrients to ensure the embryos developed properly, something that would have required a dedicated organisation to achieve.

The facility she had found in Pan City, the Happy Hive, must have been part of that organisation. A group with enough power and wealth to steal the clone gene-codes and establish birthing centres hidden from the Board of Governors and Archimedes. That took some serious effort, especially to keep it hidden from Archimedes.

Of course, they hadn’t kept it secret after all she realised. Archimedes had found that facility in Pan City and attacked it with Guard clones. She wondered how many other places like it there may have been scattered around the vast city, and how many had fallen to the Guard?

She called forth her own internal image files, bringing up the last moments of Amber and Trixie Gregson. They stumbled again in the bushland near the Zone Border, vainly trying to escape Archimedes and his agents. A tired, thirsty and starving young girl carried in the arms of her mother.

Trixie could see now the woman was not genetically related to the child. But the way Amber held her, shielded the child as they struggled, left her in no doubt she had birthed this girl. Amber was risking everything to try and get the young Trixie out of the Zone, to be free of Archimedes.

The image froze in the second before her rifle fired, when Archimedes had taken direct control of her body. Trixie could continue the data stream if she chose, only needing to give a simple command to her internal processor.

She closed the file and hung her head, unable to watch the events any further.

“Trixie?” came a tentative voice from the doorway. “Are you Okay?”

A warm hand was laid on her shoulder and Abbie moved to stand at her side. Sirius leaped onto the table and gave her a worried meow of his own, his pale brown eyes searching hers. She reached out at stroked his head, fondling his grey speckled ears gently.

“I’m not Okay, Abbie, not yet” she replied flatly. “But once this investigation is done, I’ll be closer than before”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Abbie asked with concern.

Trixie patted her hand with her own, relishing the moment of human contact.

“Will you be here when I get back?” she asked.

Abbie moved so she could look into Trixie’s eyes, lifting the patch away to expose the green glow of her synthetic eye. She smiled with certainty at the mis-matched organs and nodded her head in agreement.

“If you’ll let me stay” she added.

“As long as you like” Trixie replied.

=====

Central Markets, the Hole

Trixie’s electric motorbike hummed through the post-dawn streets, joining a small procession of old vans, scooters and pedal-powered tricycles and bicycles, all headed to the Central Markets. Many of the vehicles were laden with hoppers of vat-grown vegetables and protein blocks or cheap recycled boxes full of goods for the clothing and electrical stalls.

They filed into the parking lot, most aiming for the loading bays snugged up against the Market walls. Trixie followed a few early shoppers to the public parking area, intending to leave her bike somewhere close to the main entrance. A young Asian girl, barely ten years old at a guess, held up a hand to Trixie as she stopped her bike.

“Two Pandas please, Miss” the girl yawned, one hand covering her open mouth and the other extended palm open. Trixie’s eyes wandered to the long bladed machete she had strapped to her left hip, the hilt worn and well used.

“I’m here to meet someone in the Freelancers Guild” Trixie declared, sitting astride her now de-powered bike with arms folded across her chest. “I’m not here for shopping”

“Oh, well in that case the special Guild rate is Two Pandas” the girl responded without batting an eyelid. She still had her right hand out waiting for the cash, but her left hand had dropped to rest on the machete hilt.

“What do your parents say about you charging for parking here?” Trixie enquired with an aggrieved air.

“That my rates are too low, Miss” the girl snapped back in a flash. “Hurry up please, I’ve got other customers waiting!”

Trixie relented and drew exactly two of the One Panda ceramic coins from her belt pouch and handed them to the girl. She gave Trixie a small grin of thanks and dashed off to another vehicle that had just parked, yelling at them they couldn’t park there!

She double checked the anti-theft system on her bike then strode towards the front entrance, her long legs eating up the short distance. As she walked, she threw a glance at the young girl in the parking lot, wondering if she was related to that other brat who hustled money for parking. He carried a machete too and still owed Trixie some change from her last visit.

“If I see that little punk again I’m going to dangle him upside down until my change falls out” she muttered to herself, pleased at the image it conjured in her mind.

=====

After purchasing a bag of freshly cooked donuts and a tray of three coffees, Trixie took the service elevator to the rooftop. She shared the journey to the third floor with an ancient Indian woman pushing a trolley loaded with boxes labelled ‘High Explosive – Do Not Drop’, then she keyed in the passcode for the final ascent to the roof.

The elevator doors pinged open on the broad expanse of the concrete rooftop, dotted here and there with portable cabins, camper vans resting on deflated tires and shipping containers made into tiny houses. Aerials and satellite dishes competed for roof space with solar panels and rainwater tanks, long open spaces covered by awnings and cheap plastic sheeting. At the outer edges of the roof, long planter boxes contained fruit trees and vegetables, a complex system of water pipes sending the life-giving fluid directly to the roots.

This early in the day, she saw only a couple of human residents, scratching and yawning as they prepared for work. On the other hand, three airborne drones and one mechanical guard dog came and checked her over, laser scanners flickering up and down her body from head to feet.

“I’m here to see Zeke Tao, local representative of the Freelancers Guild” she announced, trying to make her six foot tall, armed and armoured self appear non-threatening somehow. Apparently it worked, all four machines leaving her after some unseen signal. Maybe it was the coffee and donuts she had brought?

She followed the directions that Jericho-Three had given her, overlaying the route onto a satellite image of this rooftop. Trixie knew she was at the right place when she saw the old Sentinel standing outside the rusty Camper Van, what they called an RV in the Northern Block.

This Sentinel was one of the models used in the last Global War, a blockier and heavier design than the ones currently used by the Police Auxiliary in the Zone. It was taller than Trixie, about seven feet from its rubber treaded feet to its boxy armoured head. Dark lenses flared into a red glow as she approached, the mechanical moving into a combat ready stance. There were no weapons in its metal hands, but one kick or punch from these machines would kill an ordinary human.

“Hey Zeke, it’s Trixie” she called out, locking eyes with the machine. “I know I’m early but I brought breakfast”

A muffled response warbled from the speaker unit on the Sentinel, then it screeched electronically and the voice came out clearly this time.

“Hi Trixie” came the recognisable voice of Zeke Tao. “I thought our meeting was in a couple of hours time?”

“Yeah, well, I’m kind of anxious to get moving on this case” she replied. “I’ve got coffee for you and Professor Rackman” She held up the tray of coffees towards the Sentinel’s lenses as proof.

“Sorry, J-san is still working at the Governor’s office” his voice came to her with a sad tone. “But that’s fine, it’ll take two coffees to wake me up. Come on in”

The Sentinel bowed graciously as she walked past, the side door of the van sliding open with a faint whine of electric motors. Trixie stepped up into the van and waited for her natural eye to adjust to the dark interior. Behind her the door slid home with a solid thump and she heard locks snap closed.

“Welcome to the Guild” Zeke said, appearing from the living quarters at one end in a brightly patterned silk robe, his feet encased in fluffy slippers made to resemble unicorns. She wasn’t certain, but the unicorns appeared to be vomiting rainbows for some reason.

There was a table and four chairs tucked against one side of the interior, which Zeke gestured Trixie to sit at. He took a chair facing her and without another word drank one of the coffees without stopping until it was empty.

“Ahh, you got the good stuff” he complimented her when he finished. She handed him a second recyclable cup and opened the bag of still warm donuts. Their enticing aroma filled the van, joining with the coffee to fight back against the smell of lavender that had been here first. She took a pair of donuts herself, chomping the first down in three bites then taking more leisurely chunks from the second.

“You clones go crazy for those donuts, don’t you?” laughed Zeke, looking more alert now that he had some caffeine in his system. He ate a couple himself, drinking more coffee in between bites.

“We’re always hungry, that’s why” Trixie replied. She knew Zeke and his partner J-san only through her boss, Jericho-Three. The Avatar had long standing arrangements with the pair, in part because he considered the Professor to be his father. Not his biological father, rather his spiritual father.

Long ago, J-san had been Professor Jericho Rackman, the brilliant inventor who created the first viable Quantum Processor, the same device nestled in Trixie’s skull and the foundation of all true Artificial Intelligences. Rackman had used his revolutionary processors to create Archimedes, the first AI to be born and still the most powerful.

The Professor had been the original head of the Board of Governors, helping bring the Pan Oceanic Special Zone into existence under the guiding intelligence of Archimedes. Yet in time the hoped for Utopia of Science and Technology had turned sour, the Zone becoming a place that Rackman began to despise.

He had abandoned his position as Governor, becoming instead a simple tech dealer here in the Central Markets. With his partner Zeke, they forged a business that used their immense skills and knowledge to help fight back against the corporations and corrupt Governors that dominated life in the Zone.

The great irony was that after some unprecedented actions in Pan City, J-san had been asked by Archimedes himself to join the Board of Governors once again. For all the good he hoped to achieve in the big city, it left Zeke struggling to manage their business here at home.

“I like your hair” she said to Zeke, eyeing the multicoloured spikes. One side was squashed flat from where he had slept on them, slowly rising out as she watched.

“At least mine is real” he grinned at her, his eyes on the nylon blue wig that framed her face. “Don’t get your head near a naked flame, girl, or you’ll go up like a bush fire”

Pleasantries exchanged, they got down to the business at hand.

“Jericho told me you were hunting for people that matched the image file you captured” Zeke explained. “The picture of the girl named Melody was taken from an Unsanctioned mission posted on the Dark Net. She’s currently alive and staying under the protection of one of my local contacts, here in the Hole”

“Do you know much about her?” Trixie asked, sipping at her rather good coffee.

“Not really” Zeke replied. “She has shown some remarkable combat skills along with highly developed reflexes and agility. I would guess she was trained by someone familiar with Guard techniques as her moves are very similar”

“What about the contract that was taken out on her? Are the Freelancers still engaged in locating the girl?”

Zeke grimaced and set down his cup.

“One team has been removed from play” he admitted reluctantly. “The other team has forfeited their contract and are trying to locate the original employers”

“Why?” she asked. “That sounds like unusual behaviour for Freelancers”

“They want to apologise for their actions, to the Guild and to the Melody girl” Zeke answered. “If they can identify the ones who set up this contract, we can bring the full weight of the Guild against them”

“Ah, so they want to buy forgiveness with the heads of their enemies?” Trixie suggested.

“You could put it that way” Zeke snapped. “But if they fail, they’ll probably pay with their own lives”

“Yeah, I suppose that’s true” she agreed in a sombre tone. “Okay, from here I really need to meet with this girl. Can this be arranged?”

“Already done. I will escort you to the safe house she is staying at as soon as you are ready”

“What?” Trixie gasped in genuine surprise. “You are actually going to leave the Markets and take me there yourself?”

Zeke gave her a look of confusion then his cherubic features broke into a wide grin.

“Not quite”

=====

Boss King’s residence, the Hole.

The red and silver drone raced at head height down the street, forcing Trixie to accelerate her bike to catch it. It zipped over a slow moving tricycle laden with bundles of recycled plastics, a wiry old guy pedalling for all his worth. She zig-zagged around the startled cyclist, shouting a hasty apology as she zoomed past.

“Slow down Zeke!” she chastised the Drone Jockey, using the helmet microphone linked to her phone. “I’d like to get there in one piece”

“Come on, slow poke” he replied, his voice crystal clear in her earpiece. “I thought you clones were qualified to operate vehicles of all kinds”

“The key word there is ‘Operate’ the vehicles” she countered. “Not race them like some teenage hooligan. I was optimised for Sniper functions not Piloting”

“I see” the voice of Zeke continued. “That explains what Jericho-Three told me”

“What!” she exclaimed. “Did the Boss complain about my driving?”

“Well, I don’t want to spread gossip” Zeke said, intending to do exactly that. “But I heard he told J-san that as a driver you were a really good shooter”

“Shut up, Zeke” she snarled into her microphone. “Just let me know when we get to the safehouse”

She heard his peal of laughter and the drone jiggled in sympathy ahead of her, as if he was truly inside the remote machine. Perhaps in a way he was, experiencing much of the world these days through their sensors instead of with his own flesh and blood.

“How can I tell you if I am not allowed to speak?” he questioned her once his mirth subsided.

“Just point me at the right place” she conceded, quelling her irritation with the man.

“Fine” he agreed. The drone slowed and hovered in front of a brightly painted house, bumping gently on the green door as if it was knocking. “This is the place”

Trixie pulled her bike to the side of the street, parking it at the front of the house that Zeke had indicated. She took off her helmet, letting her eyes, natural and Enhanced, check out the building and the surrounding area.

“Okay, it looks clear to me” she announced. She dismounted, knocking the dust from her skirt and jacket, then turned to face the drone. “So who is the contact that’s been keeping the girl safe?”

“You’ll know him when you see him” Zeke assured her with confidence. “Try knocking again as he might not have heard my drone”

Trixie gave a plaintive sigh and rapped the green door with her knuckles, just as it was swung open. A boy in his early teens stood there, glaring angrily at her raised hand.

“Stop the noise!” the boy demanded. “I heard you the first time!” Then he registered Trixie’s face and gasped in surprise. “Hey, I’ve seen you before!”

“You!” shouted Trixie. “You’re the punk who stole my change at the Markets!”

“Great! Everyone knows everybody” came from a speaker on Zeke’s drone. “Boss King, Trixie, I’ll leave you two to have a chat. Bye!” Without another word the drone drifted up above the rooftops and accelerated away, leaving Trixie and the boy watching it with stunned disbelief.

Trixie spun her head to regard the boy, checking him over. It was definitely the same kid who worked the parking lot hustle, her facial recognition program confirmed it. He examined her as well, his face suspicious and broody.

“You’re the one that Zeke said will help us?” he asked in a neutral tone.

“Yes, I am” she conceded in the same tone. “Are you the one who runs the safehouse?”

“Well, I guess I am” he said after a moment. “If Zeke sent you to us, I’ll have to trust his judgement. Come on inside”

The boy stepped aside, allowing Trixie to walk into the cool interior. She heard the door close and lock behind her while she glanced around. The place looked fairly normal on the surface, but her artificial eye detected a network of signal blockers framing the outer walls. There would be no data transmissions leaking into or out of this house she suspected without going through a shielded portal.

“I’m Boss King by the way” the boy announced, grudgingly holding out his hand. She took it in her own, almost engulfing his smaller hand with her larger one. They shook once and released each other.

“I’m Trixie Smith” she told him. “Please, call me Trixie”

“Sure. Come on, I’ll introduce you to my mother and Melody” Boss King set off ahead of her, leading her through a living space and into a kitchen at the rear of the house. Voices could be heard from there, asking the boy questions as he entered.

Trixie followed him, seeing a table with an older woman seated facing a young girl. As soon as their eyes met, the girl screamed in horror and leaped to her feet.

“Banzai Butterfly!” her voice roared and a long blade of oily darkness lanced out from her right arm, slashing towards Trixie’s head.