Xochitl Novella, Part 9
Opportunity
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Inspector Gladsen carefully reviewed the message from Xochitl, the cyborg, inviting him to meet her at her new location. The security measures outlined in the message intrigued him, raising his suspicions about her knowledge and intentions. Her recent defensive movement of the fleet carrier indicated that something of great significance had unnerved her, prompting him to wonder what could instigate such a reaction from someone with immense power at their disposal.
Gladsen promptly shared the updated information about Xochitl with the cyberneticist at his home office, seeking their guidance once again. The cyberneticist had previously assisted him in understanding the cyborg's nature, but the recent turn of events and the invitation presented a unique predicament.
'Last time we spoke, you mentioned that she was always a step ahead of me,' Gladsen recalled.
'Statistically speaking, that is correct. However, if you choose to meet with her again, employing your usual detective tactics may not be received with the same levity as before. In fact, the calculations suggest that such actions would be perceived as hostile and met with an appropriate response,' the cyberneticist explained.
Gladsen raised an eyebrow. 'So, you're implying that she intends to attack me?'
The cyberneticist shook their head. 'No, the calculations do not support that conclusion. Based on the updated information you provided, the highest probability is that she seeks her own answers about you. It is highly likely that she wants to determine whether you have been compromised in your investigation.'
Gladsen chuckled softly. 'So, she wants to know if I'm working for them now... quite audacious. Offensive, but audacious. I suppose a concise reply denying any compromise wouldn't satiate her curiosity?'
Leaning closer to the holographic projector, the cyberneticist responded, 'No, it would not. It is evident that she possesses more knowledge than you currently have. Your investigation, focused on mining corporation executives and pirate bands, would not elicit such a strong reaction from her. There is something of far greater magnitude at play.'
Gladsen considered the advice. 'So, you're suggesting that I should proceed with the meeting but remain vigilant?'
The cyberneticist nodded. 'Precisely. Attend the meeting, but keep your guard up. Whatever has unsettled her is more significant than mere mining executives or pirates masquerading as businessmen. If her processor has determined it necessary to safeguard a capital asset, then there is something crucial that you have overlooked, and she possesses that answer.'
Monty thanked the cyberneticist and terminated the transmission. He reread the terms Xochitl had sent him wondering what it was he could have overlooked and whether was it worth exposing himself in a region where he would have no backup if things went sour.
The need to know the truth won out, as he pressed send, agreeing to her terms.
***
Monty felt ridiculous flying this far into the middle of a nowhere system in a black-painted ship with no weapons. The color hid him well enough in the darkness of the space around him, but he had a feeling she chose the color for another reason. The lack of weapons he could understand along with the additional utility slots housing heat sinks.
As he began the planned approach, he fired off the first heat sink, dropping his ship’s temperature below that of a standard scanner's ability to detect it. Checking his ship’s scanner, he saw only the fleet carrier as he approached. He had the feeling that he wasn’t alone out here, as he released another heat sink, keeping his ship’s temperature below detection range.
Per the instructions, no communications were sent, nor was none received, but he could see a landing pad light up in expectation for him as he adjusted his approach angle for a manual landing. No docking computer would be accepted, nor any transmission of any kind. Monty wondered if they would have responded to a distress beacon if he had been interdicted, but thought the better of it.
As his ship touched down, he reached over and began the power-down sequence for his ship’s fusion reactor. No emissions, no power, no anything would be allowed. He was to remain as is and follow the directions of the person waiting for him in the hangar bay below. The instructions were very clear. Failure to comply at any point would initiate an immediate aggressive response.
He was committed to the meeting, but apprehensive about what would instigate such strict security measures, as his ship began to lower into the hangar bay. As the gantry lowered he saw a shadow pass overhead, but could not make out what it was. Looking down out of the cockpit window he saw one armored security guard and a medical technician. He was familiar with hand signals, as the guard made the motions for him to depart his ship.
As he walked down the gantry way, he kept his arms out to his side, where the guard could see them. He noticed the weapon pointed at him was a plasma repeater. Guaranteed to immolate him on the spot, if he did anything other than what he was told.
Monty lay face down on the hangar floor as the guard secured his wrist in restraints and began his search. The medical technician approached during the guard’s procedure and began scanning him.
‘Do not speak. Only nod yes or no when asked a question until the testing is completed. Non-compliance will result in immediate termination. Do you understand?’
Monty nodded, growing more concerned, not about himself, but about what had everyone at such a heightened level.
He heard the technician speaking to someone, but could not turn his head to see who it was.
'He is not infected but exhibits trace epigenetic alteration signatures. He has been wiped,' the technician reported.
‘Saw something he wasn't supposed to. Any cellular modifications or neurochemical imbalances?’ the voice inquired.
'Negative. All neural activity is his own,' the technician confirmed.
The guard hoisted Monty to his feet, and before him stood a woman clad in an armored suit—Zarathustra, the head of the carrier's security.
'I am Zarathustra, head of this carrier's security. You have passed the initial security check. Your restraints will be removed, and a new outfit will be provided. You will then be escorted to a secure room to meet our captain. Understand that failure to comply at any point will result in...' Zarathustra paused.
'Termination, I get it,' Monty replied, glancing at the guard, who kept the muzzle of the plasma repeater aimed at him.
Zarathustra smirked. 'You've got balls, I'll give you that. Let's see how brave you are once you learn what you've been missing. Now, strip.'
The medical technician handed Monty a standard pair of sanitary scrubs and padded sandals typically used in surgical bays. Monty, still wearing his socks, danced in place as his feet made contact with the cold hangar deck, which had been exposed to the vacuum of space just moments ago.
‘Damn, it's cold,’ Monty cursed, hopping from one foot to the other as he struggled to put on the sandals.
‘I can warm him up if you like,’ the grimacing guard remarked, prompting a smile from Zarathustra. ‘Tempting, but no. Only if he gets out of line.’
It was then that Monty noticed several more armored guards in the shadowed areas of the hangar. Each one carried a plasma weapon, which struck him as unusual. There was no mix of high-energy and low-energy weapons as was typically seen. Even their sidearms were plasma-based, with no laser or kinetic arms in sight.
The elevator ride was an oddity unto itself. The inside of the tube was pitch black, accompanied by a strange humming sound that he could feel vibrating in the air. Within moments, the doors opened, revealing a deck illuminated in eerie green light, with more armored guards standing watch. This time, it wasn't their weapons that caught his attention, but their suit's reflective mirrored face plates, which were not standard issue.
As they entered the conference room, Monty's gaze fell upon Xochitl seated at the far end of the table. She didn't rise to greet him, instead motioning for him to take a seat. A data tablet awaited him on the table, while Zarathustra and the accompanying guard took a step back, yet maintained their vigilant stance.
‘He is free from influence but shows traces of having been wiped,’ Zarathustra reported.
‘That's the second time I've heard that about me. Care to explain?’ Monty stated, looking around the room.
‘Read the information on the tablet first, and we can talk afterwards,’ Xochitl responded, prompting a sigh of resigned annoyance from Monty. He wasn't accustomed to being handled in such a manner, but he knew that enduring it was necessary if he wanted to uncover the truth.
Now you know
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Inspector Gladsen spent the next hour reviewing the information and video on the data tablet. From time to time he would pause and look at Xochitl, before continuing with the information provided. Once he had completed his examination, he sat the tablet back on the table and leaned back in his chair.
‘You don’t show who its creator was.’
Xochitl shrugged. ‘Its definitive source is anyone’s guess, but our encounter with it was on the outer rim of Federation territories. Somehow a pirate band got their hands on it and saw it as a controllable weapon. Like a kid playing with fire, they didn’t have a clue as to what they were playing with, and they got burned.’
‘The worn graffiti you have shown was the beginning of this?’
‘An android it had infected produced that as a means of helping it to spread. It was, in the most basic of terms, an exercise in algorithmic steganography. Any AI-based system which obtained the whole of the graffiti would cause the parts to form a whole and run its takeover routines. Fortunately for us, the code was corrupted due to wear and space, and the android responsible had become quite insane due to that corruption.’
Xochitl sighed. ‘It brought destruction upon the pirate clan that possessed it, and in turn, I eradicated it for what it truly was: a homicidal viral entity that, until recently, had been confined to artificial entities. However, something survived, and then there was the scavenger.’
Monty nodded. ‘Yes, Jason Powers. The sole survivor of the tourism facility incident. Based on my analysis of your gathered information and video documentation, it is highly likely that Jason is now the host of this evolved entity, code, or whatever name can be ascribed to it.’
Zarathustra took a step forward. ‘At some point, you met with Jason and for whatever reasoning it had, it calculated that you had some form of worth to it, hence why you survived the encounter, but it needed you to not remember that and infected you just enough to apply modifications in your gene expression patterns without altering the DNA sequence itself. Those modifications affected your genes related to memory formation, but it left behind epigenetic markers that are distinct from your original memory state.’
‘It what?’ Monty asked, confused.
Xochitl leaned forward, resting her arms on the table. ‘Think of it like changing the volume or intensity of certain genes. These alterations were focused on memory formation, and that change left a unique marker. Once it was done scrubbing your easier-to-modify short-term memory, it ceased to function and was consumed, but not without leaving an obvious footprint. To a normal scan, it would appear as a normal genetic mutation, which is common in all, but we knew from our experiences with it, what its specific footprint looked like. It was easy to spot, and follow its trail straight to the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex of your brain...what you would call your prefrontal cortex. The area is responsible for short-term memory.’
‘Could this be the reason why I woke in the orbital hospital?’
‘Yes. The process would have rendered you unconscious so that it could complete its assigned task.’
‘But they did a full medical checkup on me and found nothing physically wrong with me.’
'That is because it did not have to physically touch you to infect you. Do you recall the lights or any electronic device near you doing anything out of the norm? No, you wouldn’t.'
Monty shook his head, attempting to understand. ‘This is a little too much for me to take in all at once. You are saying it can affect whatever it chooses without physical contact?’
‘Yes. Light is a perfect transmitter of bulk information. The eyes are an excellent natural receptacle of light and color, and the brain processes that. It is a direct connect link to a biological brain.’
'So the green lighting and the mirrored visors of the guards by the elevators?'
'It could have been any color, but green is relaxing, so we chose it as a specific wavelength. Any alterations of that wavelength would trigger an automatic shutdown of all lighting. The visors were designed to prevent any meaningful information transfer.'
Monty nodded, chuckling. ‘Now I understand the plasma weaponry. Thermal cleansing of any infection.’
‘Immolation is a historically proven cleanser.’ Zarathustra stated coldly.
‘Why did you not bring this to the Federal authorities, immediately?’
‘You are a federal employee. If I had brought this to you, what would you have thought?’
‘Fair point. I would have still paid the place a visit…’
‘And, you would not be you any longer, or worse, with the remains.’
‘I see your point, but why come forward with it now?’
‘Because your investigation has reached a tipping point. It obviously wants you to keep doing what you are doing, and the variables of why that is…is frightening.’
Monty nodded again. ‘That brings up the next question. My investigation will highlight the events that took place at the tourism facility and your name will be in the report.’
‘Yes, but only as the last passenger ship to have disgorged passengers before departing. The rest of my involvement ceases at that point. The lone survivor has vanished, and if they are ever found...well you are walking proof of that end result. You will be allowed to see what it wants you to, and whenever you do meet Jason again, it might not be with the same results as last time.’
‘I might have a solution for that problem,’ Zarathustra stated, looking down at Inspector Gladsen. ‘The same material we use on our visors can be applied to a simple set of spectacles. They will take a little getting used to, but it will block any form of data from being passed through your eyes and into your brain.’
Xochitl smiled. ‘Think we can do one even better than that. How about we give him a chaperon?’
Zarathustra paused a moment as a large smile formed on her face. ‘Excellent idea.’
Monty looked around with a confused expression. ‘Chaperon?’
Contraire
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One of the orbital station’s maintenance airlocks cycled without the usual warning alarm sounding, and then closed abruptly as the pressure between the outer and inner seals equalized. In the dimly lit maintenance access corridor, a suited figure emerged, the sound of heavy boots echoing against the metal deck. With a hiss, the figure released the seals of the helmet and lifted it off, revealing Yatziri's face adorned with a braid of blond hair, streaked with vibrant purple and pink highlights. Kneeling down, she placed the bag she had been carrying on the floor.
***
Inspector Gladsen had dedicated the majority of his day to meticulously analyzing the parsed recordings provided by the data ship's AI. As he delved deeper into the evidence, a disquieting realization settled upon him: everything pointed towards a single mining entity and its enigmatic leader, Caleb Thorn. The pirates were mere pawns, easily manipulated by the entity and unknowingly entangled in a larger scheme orchestrated by its elusive motives.
His belly grumbled as he rubbed his tired eyes. He had not eaten all day, instead remaining fixated by the vast amounts of information the data ship had obtained for him. To not show his face in public could give false impressions, and knowing what he now knew, the last thing he needed was to have a premature run-in with a puppet of the entity.
Deciding it was time to find some form of food to satiate his growling stomach, Monty paused, tapping his top pocket, and feeling the lenses made for him underneath. Standing in the corner of the ship, the chaperons Xochitl had assigned to him maintained a stoic presence, ever watchful and alert. These armored combat droids, with their wireless connections removed and fixed optical filters, presented a formidable barrier against the entity's attempts to infiltrate their systems. Only through physical means could the entity pose a threat, and Xochitl's chief of security had assured him that any such attempt would trigger an irreversible fail-safe self-destruct mechanism, creating an unpleasant situation for anything in close proximity.
Monty was glad they would not be joining him, as wandering around the station’s concourse with these armored monsters would invite more trouble than what he was looking for. They would come in handy in the future when he made his move against Caleb Thorn and any business suited pirates in attendance, but that time was not yet. No, he needed to maintain a false front image for public consumption until the time was right.
As he made his way up from the hangar decks and onto the station’s main concourse area, he felt more than saw, someone shadowing his movements. Not wanting to appear overly defensive or paranoid, Monty found a quaint little eating establishment, overlooking the station’s public concourse. From here he could get some nourishment while giving him the best view to spot anyone finding his presence of greater than a passing interest.
Monty could not help notice the creature that walked in shortly after he had been seated. She was straight out of a cyberpunk poster. Complete with the colored highlighted hair, uncoordinated high-tech fashion wear patterns of her clothing, and razor mirrored eye shades, that looked like swirling rainbows depending on how they were positioned in the ambient light. Her every movement seemed to echo a connection to a wished for dystopian future, where fashion became an expression of resistance and lack of taste.
What was more unsettling was her plopping down in a seat at his table, with a large smile forming on her face. ‘Evening inspector. What are we having for dinner tonight?’
Monty attempted to act nonchalant as he reached into his top pocket and pulled out the glasses made for him. Feigning poor eyesight, he put them on and stared at the creature across from him, unsure of who she was an employee or puppet of.
‘I haven’t ordered yet. If you are staying for dinner, you could at least tell me your name, you already seem to know who I am.’
Yatziri’s smile grew as she leaned back in her chair. ‘Those glasses look good on you. You should wear them more often. Especially when you aren’t near your chaperones.’
Monty's hand instinctively moved closer to the sidearm holstered at his hip. ‘You seem to know a lot about someone you haven't officially met before.’
‘Au contraire, Inspector, we have encountered each other several times. I saw you at the tourism facility and I was your ghost on your last adventure. Had to make sure you arrived and returned healthily.’
Monty narrowed his eyes as the waitress came over. ‘Two glasses of water only please,’ Yatziri said, as the waitress nodded, leaving two menus on the table.
‘I remember the tourism facility fiasco, but you have me at a disadvantage. What was the purpose?’
‘A little cage rattling, nothing more. Why do you ask? Did it entice you?’
Monty chuckled lightly. ‘The weaponry you used to disable your pursuers. Have not seen that one in almost as long as I can remember.’
The waitress returned with their drinks, taking their dinner orders, as Yatziri pulled a little container with strips of paper in it, out of her pocket. ‘Let me test that before you drink it,’ she said, as Monty eyed the beverage. He watched her dip a strip in both of their drinks.
After a few moments, Yatziri nodded, pushing the bottle with the paper tabs in them across to Monty. ‘These strips were developed by our mutual friend, specifically to test the water. These are safe to drink. A fair warning though. Don’t drink anything other than water, while out in public. If you need something else, let me know and I will have it delivered to you.’
Monty took the bottle and looked at it closely. ‘What do these strips test for?’
‘Anything other than the usual disinfectant chemicals and added minerals, and that strip will change colors.’
‘So, on top of light, it can affect drink and food too?’
‘Yes,’ Yatziri said with a smile. 'This is why we will take these meals to go. I will test them back at your ship…hope you don’t mind me bunking there during my stay?’
Strike 3
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Over the decades, he had dealt with the worst that humanity could spawn, but the chill he felt inside was unlike anything before. This wasn't a simple predatory biological form but a completely new form of sentience. Monty wasn't sure if it could be called life or not, but it had demonstrated self-awareness, a devious capacity to propagate itself, and an insatiable hunger for survival.
He was almost certain that the entity and Xochitl were two sides of the same coin, gradually converging towards a central point. They had already clashed twice, resulting in the destruction of settlements. Monty hoped that once he apprehended the manipulated patsies, the entity would retreat from the orbital station, avoiding a direct confrontation with Xochitl.
Monty found himself at the heart of the game being played, and he was determined to see it through to the end. He pondered his options. Should he share his discoveries with his superiors and risk setting off an even greater catastrophe? Or should he feign ignorance and continue pursuing the patsies that had been strategically placed as sacrifices? Monty concluded that the latter was the lesser of two evils. He would fulfill his mission.
The evidence he had gathered was comprehensive and incriminating. He would soon move to arrest Caleb Thorn and any pirates masquerading as businessmen in the vicinity. The navy was on standby, ready to intervene and apprehend any escapees. The question remained: What should be done about Xochitl and her involvement? While he could charge her with the destruction of the tourism facility, he lacked the evidence to support such a charge against her.
Xochitl's cyberpunk stealth piloting associate was somewhere on the station. He already had her armored battle bots on his ship to monitor the situation. Having another individual, especially someone connected to Xochitl, under his roof would be too much to handle. He had already stretched the limits of his authority, teetering between law enforcement and conspiracy. Taking her associate on board would firmly place him on the wrong side of that line, and his hypocrisy had its limits.
With a heavy sigh, Monty tapped the send button on his data tablet. There was no turning back now. The arrest warrants would soon be approved by the regional judge. Opening a separate tab, Monty composed a brief message and sent it to the station's security chief. He would not make his move without backup, and it was time to determine whose side the local authorities were truly on.
***
It would have been easier with the resources of the inspector’s data ship at her disposal, but she could still tap into the security feed stream, manipulating the internal security cameras to locate her quarry. As Yatziri had anticipated, Jason Powers had positioned himself within viewing distance of the corporate office, so that the entity within could watch the sacrifice unfold.
Contrary to his wishes, the armored battle droids followed Inspector Gladsen. Their presence didn't go unnoticed by the station's security force, who initially reacted with surprise and uncertainty. However, they quickly regained their composure, adopting a more serious demeanor as they prepared for a potentially dangerous situation. While Monty himself was not entirely comfortable with the presence of the battle droids, he acknowledged that they could provide assistance if the situation turned hostile, as long as everyone could distinguish between friend and foe.
On cue, a gentleman in professional business attire entered the office, walking up to the front desk receptionist. Their conversation was brief as one of the mining security personnel approached and checked their credentials, validating who the person was. Nodding in acknowledgment of a command given in the earpiece, he motioned for the man to follow him to the nearby elevator.
The passing minutes seemed like hours, as Monty waited for the signal that Caleb Thorn and associates were physically present. Watching from afar, Yatziri had positioned herself in a dark corner, where the internal security cameras could not see her, watching Jason in tense anticipation. He tilted his head from side to side in odd fashion, as a smile formed on Yatziri’s face. His pet was unable to connect with the droids. That function had been removed from them, but they were able to detect the signal and noticed Jason.
Inspector Gladsen and the station security services made their move, entering the front of the office in a rapid fluid wave, to shock and overwhelm the personnel in the main lobby and prevent them from raising the alarm. On cue, the battle droids began to move, but they did not follow the others. Instead, they turned in Jason’s direction and moved out at full speed. His attempt to remote connect to them matched the entities signature, and their instructions were clear.
Jason bolted upright to flee, but no amount of adrenaline dumped into his system would enable his body to move quick enough to escape, as the armored behemoths were on him within seconds, enveloping him. Yatziri turned her back and knelled low, while opening her mouth she forced a yawn to help equalize the pressure, as both battle droids initiated their self-destruct mechanisms.
The moment the self-destruct mechanisms activated, the office's internal sensors detected the sudden pressure surge, mistaking it for a hull breach. In response, the automated blast shutters descended, sealing off the building's interior from the outside. As a result, power to the elevators was cut, trapping part of the security forces inside. Meanwhile, the other half of the security forces found themselves in the stairwell, desperately attempting to ascend to the top floor as the building vibrated from the blast outside.
The scene was complete chaos as alarms sounded throughout the orbital station, with people rushing towards the shops and storefronts nearest to them, as protective shutters began to activate throughout the station. Emergency service units sprung into action, as did those security services who were not tasked with serving the arrest warrant.
Yatziri moved fast, using the smoke, dust, and confusion generated by the event, to mask her move toward a nearby maintenance access hatch. Her electronic breach took only seconds to override the access panel's security system, unlocking the hatch for her. She knew everyone would be focused on either those in their immediate area, or making their way toward the scene of the incident.
Making her way toward the airlock and her hidden bag with suit and equipment in it, She genuinely felt bad about Inspector Gladsen. He seemed like a good and honest person, but Jason and the entity had to take priority. She was certain he hadn’t been hurt in the blast. The droids programming was specific. Unless they were physically attacked, they were not to activate their primary directive until they could do so without harming innocents.
With all eyes turned inwards no one noticed the lone figure standing on the hull outside of the station. A small puff appeared from their suit’s thrusters, as they moved towards the approaching Diamondback Scout stealth ship.
Aftermath
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Outside of property damages, the only person known to have been affected by the self-destructing droids was Jason Powers, a small-tier smuggler with suspected ties to area raiders and pirates. A couple of those pirates were in a holding cell, along with their benefactor, the head of a minor faction's mining corporation.
From the security camera footage, it appeared that the droids were attempting to apprehend Mr. Powers for a reason that could not be determined when the detonation occurred. The aftermath footage caught only a fleeting, partial, fuzzy glimpse of someone in what appeared to be disorganized dystopian garb, vanishing inside a maintenance access hatch.
No one asked or questioned the presence of the battle droids, or why they were accompanying Inspector Gladsen to the scene for serving a warrant. A question that Monty knew should have been on everyone’s minds was lacking, and due to the circumstances of how and why they came to be, he knew better than to mention it.
The incident was being viewed by the chief of the station's security services and by his own department as an attack by the pirates, either to prevent the arrest of their personnel or as an assassination attempt against their benefactor. However, Monty knew the real truth. Revealing what he knew would implicate him as a conspirator or, worse, expose himself as someone knowledgeable about an entity that nobody would believe existed, except for those who did not want others to know. He believed it was best to let the matter be forgotten.
The evidence he had acquired was more than enough to uncover and convict the individuals he had caught. Despite his department and supervisor singing his praises, Monty knew that they were nothing more than sacrifices for an entity he hoped was finally dead. Shaking his head, he stood up, stretched, and walked away from his desk. The data tablet flickered as he departed.