CHAPTER III
CYCLES
Afternoon had settled in by the time I headed home. I jogged along, savoring the beauty, so unlike the parched landscape of Raylicon. That had its own beauty, too, but nothing like this city.
Lawns bordered the avenue. Although hovercars hummed past distant buildings, the city didn’t allow them in these central parks. Eventually I reached a more residential area, running past houses with ornamental trees, expansive lawns, and flowering vines that climbed trellises. I found it hard to believe that each of those houses, with all its space and verdant plant life, served as home to only a few residents. Selei City sprawled over several hundred square kilometers and had a low population for such an important city. People considered this section of town less well off because it averaged “only” about an acre of land per house. A freaking acre. The plentiful resources in this city—unlimited water, space, plant life and food—left me speechless. Compared to where I’d grown up, it offered an almost unimaginable wealth.
Bhaaj, are you all right? Max asked.
I’m fine. Why do you ask?
Your vital signs are strange.
Strange? Usually he was more specific. What do you mean?
Not a medical problem. He paused. More like you’re showing physical signs of grief. Are you mourning the loss of the scientists?
Their deaths saddened me, but I didn’t know if I’d call that grief, at least not at a personal level. I didn’t know any of them.
What were you just thinking about?
Just my home. The Undercity, compared to here. I’ve no idea why I would be mourning.
Max spoke with an almost unbearable compassion, a sentiment he supposedly had no ability to feel. Sometimes we mourn for the pain we’ve lived. A person can feel grief for memories of loss, especially when faced with a life where no one has to accept that pain.
I had no idea how to respond. I’d made peace with the memories of my youth. Now I gave back to the Undercity, served as a liaison to outside civilization, and helped develop programs to aid my people in ways that didn’t destroy our unique culture. I could make a difference. Why would I mourn?
Because the memories never stopped. Knowing how much better most people lived hurt.
I don’t think I want to talk about this, I told Max.
All right. With a lighter quality, he added, I’m always here.
I smiled at his twist on the saying, I’m here if you need to talk. He wasn’t going anywhere unless I took off my gauntlets. He once told me that he considered himself part of my mind. I hadn’t wanted to hear it, to consider that we could become that closely intertwined. I used to wonder if the EIs for different people or systems communed with one another, deciding what they thought of their human creators or if they wanted to neaten up the universe by deleting us. Now, though, I thought I had it wrong. Maybe human beings were evolving to where EIs became a part of us, part of what it meant to be alive.
Bhaaj, Max thought. I’m getting an odd sensor reading up ahead, a person, I think.
Can’t you tell?
Its biological signs are human, but its motions are unlikely for a person. Too many abrupt starts and stops.
That sounds like someone riding a scooter over bad terrain.
I don’t think so. I would detect two things, one human and one mechanical.
Could it be someone with malfunctioning biomech? A Trader agent had once cracked my supposedly unhackable biomech web. He forced me to leave the base, probably with the intent of capturing an ISC major. It hadn’t taken me long to block his signals, using protocols I’d learned as soon as the army implanted my web, but those few moments before I stopped the infiltration had shaken me. To lose control of my body that way—I never wanted to face it again.
I’m investigating, Max thought. The signal is headed in our direction.
I turned onto a public lane that led between the grounds of two houses. Up ahead, a jogger was headed toward me. It that runner the source of the signal?
No. If you stay on this path, you will move away from your pursuer.
Good. I kept running. I could keep this pace forever. We had no powered vehicles in the Undercity, so we ran everywhere, every day, sometimes hours at a time, often just for the sheer joy of speed. We ran and we fought, to defend our territory and protect our circle, street fighting, down and dirty. My dust gang had excelled at both speed and hand-to-hand combat, rising high in the Undercity hierarchy.
In the army, I joined the track team. Apparently in addition to my youthful conditioning, my body had an unusual density of muscles, both slow- and fast-twitch, more of the slow, but my fast-twitchers fatigued less than for most athletes. It gave me power, speed, and endurance. I did well at a number of events, but my forte was the marathon. I also took up the martial art of tykado, which I loved even though I had to relearn almost everything I knew about fighting. It thrilled my coaches no end; they couldn’t care less about my crappy origins as long as I beat the competition. It gave me an oasis of confidence amid all the dismissal, even hatred, that I encountered because of my background. It felt satisfying to trounce those athletes who called me inferior, as if I were a joke offered up for their ridicule. Choke on that fast-twitch, you entitled assholes.
Not sure you can choke on a muscle fiber in another person. Max sounded amused.
I smiled. Did I leave the scooter behind?
Yes, it went in another—no, wait. It is once again headed in our direction.
Does the scooter have any weapons, or its rider?
I don’t detect any. It could be shrouding them, however.
I picked up my pace. You figure out what it is yet?
I’m getting cyber and human signs together.
I’ll hide and see if anyone goes by me. Activate my shroud.
You don’t have it with you.
Ho! I always carried the pack with my jammer when I worked a case in the Undercity. I’d forgotten I didn’t bring it today. It wasn’t legal to carry equipment like that in Selei City without proper clearance. Using it wasn’t legal on Raylicon, either, but none of the authorities bothered with the Undercity. Although I’d arranged a license to carry one in Selei City, today I’d lapsed into my habits from when I worked here years ago. My subconscious apparently hadn’t perceived my outing as having any potential threat.
I ran into the parklike forest that bordered the path on both sides and hid behind a droop willow. Can you mask my vital signs?
I will do my best. Then Max added, You did bring your new beetle-bot. You could send it to spy on the scooter.
Good idea. I reached into the pocket of my leather jacket and took out a blue beetle that fit into the palm of my hand. I owned three of them now, green, red, and blue. Each drone had its own specialty. This one was weaponized, sort of. It could squirt ink into the eyes of a human, shoot them with a sedative dart, or blast digitized nonsense into a prying cyberspy. It didn’t have as much memory as the other two, so it couldn’t record as long, but it could repel invaders, a feature neither of the others claimed. I used those for spying, which was actually what I needed right now, but what the hell. I liked my new toy, so today I’d brought its lovely blue self instead of Red or Green.
Through Max, I told it, Follow the scooter.
The beetle took off in an iridescent flash, flying back the way I’d come. It looked even more like a real beetle than the other two drones.
A whirring soon came from that direction. As it drew nearer, I peered along the path. Max, is that a person riding a two-wheeled cycle?
No. After a pause, he added, It’s a human being with a two-wheeled cycle as the lower half of their body.
Vision augs, I thought. My vision ramped up, enhanced by my biomech web, magnifying my view of the cyclist. They rolled in my direction along the path, stopping to search the trees every now and then. I couldn’t tell where the cycle ended and the body began.
Are you sure they aren’t just sitting in a motorized cycle? I asked.
I am certain. Every sensor I’ve used indicates the cycle is part of the person.
I had a friend in the army who had motorized legs that included wheels. He could retract them and walk if he preferred. He had it done after he lost his legs during battle on Vandin Station.
I’m sorry about what happened to your friend.
Yah. But he liked his wheel legs. Maybe this cyclist is the same. They had come near enough now that I could see their face. Do a facial recognition check. See if you can get an ID.
Working. Bhaaj, you need to get farther behind these trees if you want to hide.
I positioned myself so the grove shielded me better. The whirring of the cycle grew louder. It stopped, started again, passed the cluster of trees where I hid, paused, then resumed its trek, whirring along the path.
After a bit, Max thought, The cyclist went around a bend in the trail. If you come out, they won’t see you. I’ll keep shielding your life signs.
I stepped onto the path, staring after the cyclist. A faint whirring hummed in the distance.
How long do you want the beetle to follow them? Max asked.
Until it runs out of memory. That would only be a few hours. Have it come back if it gets made.
Gets made?
An Earth idiom. It means if the cyclist figures out that it’s in pursuit.
Ah. Earth. That explains why it sounds strange.
I smiled. You think Earthers are strange? We all come from there, Max. Despite my teasing, I knew what he meant. We’d been apart from Earth long enough to make her cultures seem odd to us. When her people had finally reached the stars, they’d found my people and the Traders already here, two massive civilizations trying to pulverize each other. The fledgling Allied Worlds of Earth stayed neutral, so we left them alone, too busy fighting each other. Besides, Earth was our mother world, which gave her a cachet nothing could match. Someday one of our empires would conquer that beautiful, beleaguered planet, but for now, they remained free.
Bhaaj, the cyclist is returning this way, Max thought.
Maybe I should see what this cycle person wants.
If they want to adjourn your biological functions, it wouldn’t be in your best interest to confront them.
Adjourn my raggedy-ass biological functions? What does that mean?
They might want to kill your raggedy-ass biological self.
I smiled, then stopped when I considered his implication. You don’t think I could hold my own? I don’t have wheels, but I’ve enhanced speed, reflexes, and strength.
So do they, I think. I can’t make any wireless link to the cyclist. They have blocks against a system even as sophisticated as mine.
I took off in a loping run back the way I’d come. Keep me updated.
The cycle has picked up speed.
I ran faster, stretching out my legs. Up ahead, I saw a couple out for a stroll. They nodded as I blasted past them.
Your pursuer is gaining on you, Max thought.
Toggle combat mode.
Done.
With my bio-hydraulics on full, I tripled my speed, devouring the distance. It didn’t do my body any favors, but with my conditioning, I could keep this up for an hour, several if I pushed it. My sight magnified, enough that I could even see small veins in the tree leaves. Sounds sharpened, the scuttle of tree-turtles no larger than insects, the whisper of the breeze through the trailing vines on branches, the flutter of birds. I loved the speed. I loved to run, always had, and with biomech it became pure joy.
I’m glad you like it, Max thought. The cyclist is gaining on you.
I picked up my pace. You’re getting some of my thoughts lately even when I don’t direct them to you. In combat mode, the bio-electrodes in my brain fired slightly more efficiently than normal. Nothing could change the speed that chemicals diffused into my brain cells, but my augmentations optimized their function so it felt as if I were thinking faster. Again, not something I could keep up for long without risking injury, brain damage in this case, but useful in small bursts.
I left the footpath and ran among the widely spaced trees, my feet crunching in dead leaves and twigs. It wasn’t a wild forest; city drones tended the area, keeping out weeds and trimming bushes. Is the cyclist following me or the trail?
The trail.
Good. I plunged on, branches whipping past my shoulders. This was so different from the City of Cries, where you couldn’t even walk on a lawn without a drone accosting you, informing you of whatever city ordinances you’d broken while it gave you a ticket. Here, as long as you did no damage, no one cared where you went.
The cycle has left the path to come after you, Max said.
Is it still gaining on me?
Yes. It is well equipped.
It looks like I’m about to find out what they want. I’d feel stupid for all this dashing about if my pursuer only wanted to talk. I stopped and turned to the cyclist, but I saw no more than flashes of color through the foliage. Their shirt looked red with white borders. I couldn’t tell much about the cycle portion of their body, except that it gleamed silver and blue, and whirred as its wheels turned, chewing up the ground. As my pursuer came closer, more details emerged. The top half of their body did look human, except perhaps the face. They continued to slow until they passed the final tree separating us, giving me my first good look. Her face looked female. I couldn’t be certain; cybernetic implants lay flush with her cheeks and forehead, obscuring her features, glinting with white lights. I couldn’t read her expression.
She stopped and watched me with a fixed stare. The cycle portion of her body fit smoothly into her waist. Her shirt covered her torso, so I couldn’t see if the cycle extended under the cloth, but her torso looked human, though more male than female. The cycle gleamed, silver and blue chrome, with two large wheels under a sleek body. I didn’t know what to think.
“Eh,” I said, an Undercity greeting. I wasn’t feeling talkative.
She spoke in a voice that could be either male or female, but sounded human. “You are Bhaajan?”
I stood tensed. “Yah. Why?”
“I have a message for you.”
“You couldn’t just send it over the mesh?” This seemed like a lot of effort.
“It was to be delivered in person.”
“From who?”
“The message is this. ‘Come to Greyjan’s tonight, ninth hour.’” With that, she whipped around and took off the way she had come, whirring past trees and wreaking havoc on the picturesque carpet of leaves.
“What the blazes?” I said.
“That was odd,” Max agreed.
“You have any idea what Greyjan’s means?”
“‘Daughter of Grey.’”
I scowled. “Max, I know that. I’m Bhaajan, remember, daughter of Bhaaj. I meant what is this place where they want me to go tonight.” Or more accurately, this evening; with the twenty-eight-hour day on Parthonia, fourteen hours in the morning and fourteen in the afternoon, the second ninth hour came around sunset at this time of year.
Max paused. “Greyjan’s is a tavern outside of Selei City. It’s on one of the rural highways that goes toward the mountains.”
“Anything notable about it? Who goes there?”
“I don’t know. It’s just an ale house. The few people who have commented about it on the meshes have expressed a preference for the more trendy bars in the city. It’s not popular. The only thing I’ve learned from the comments is not to order the synthetic meat pie.”
“I don’t see why I should go,” I grumbled.
“But you will.” Max sounded amused.
“Why is that funny?”
“You’ll go because you’re curious. And to find out if it links to your case.”
“Pah. I don’t have time.” He was right, though. I had to go. Anyone who knew enough to chase me down like that cyclist almost certainly pointed toward information I wanted.
“I’m sorry,” the offworld telop repeated through the speaker on my desk console. “Without proper authorization, I cannot connect you with the Majda palace on Raylicon.”
“I have authorization.” I sat in my office at home, too puzzled even to be irked. “Just input my credentials into your system.”
She spoke with strained patience. “Ma’am, as I’ve already told you, your credentials don’t allow that access. I have nothing else to tell you. Good day.” With that, she cut our connection.
“Well, shit,” I said.
“Pithy, but accurate,” Max asked. “I double-checked your credentials. You have full clearance to contact the Majdas. It should have gone straight through.”
“Why didn’t you forward those to the telop?”
“I did. Either my file was corrupted or something intercepted my transmission.”
I doubted his files had a problem. For his systems to be that badly corrupted, I would have to be corrupted, and not in any entertaining way. I’d be in such bad condition, I’d be lucky to walk and breathe. And I felt fine.
Even so. I should check. “Run a diagnostic on my biomech web.”
“I’ve been doing that continually since the problem with the telop started. You’re fine. You’re system is fine. I’m fine.” He sounded pissed. “Whoever intercepted my transmission will not be fine when I locate them.”
“Anger, Max?”
“Principle.”
“Maybe it’s connected to that cyclist. She seemed advanced, tech-wise.”
“The only signals I picked up from her in the forest related to her cybernetics. Nothing else.”
“That doesn’t mean she couldn’t hide her ability to do more.”
“True. I didn’t have that impression, though.”
I’d learned to trust Max’s “intuition” about other tech-mech systems. Even so, I still needed more data about the cyclist. “I wonder why someone would change their body that way.”
“Maybe she likes it. Maybe she was born without parts of her body and replaced them with cybernetic tech. Or maybe she was injured enough to need them.”
“More human ways exist to adapt the body than—” Than what? Having wheels? I sounded too human oriented. Why shouldn’t people have wheels instead of legs?
“You assume staying as human as possible is the goal of an upgrade,” Max said.
“I try not to. You’ve seen how far out cyber-riders can get in the Undercity. Sure, some of their more unusual choices startle me, like that fellow who covered his entire body with working circuits instead of gang tattoos. But it’s not—” I searched for words to express a nebulous sense I hardly understood myself. “Something else bothered me about that cyclist.”
“Like the drug punkers in the Undercity who transform their arms into machine guns?”
“Actually, no. Yah, it pisses me off when punkers turn themselves into living weapons so they can whack people.” Pisses off was a polite way to put it. “This is different. Her facial implants essentially acted as a disguise.”
“I kept trying to hack her system. I got nowhere fast.” He sounded frustrated. “I should have at least managed a surface ID.”
“If her systems are that good, maybe she could intercept my credentials when you sent them to the telop.”
“That implies she wanted to stop you from contacting Colonel Lavinda Majda. Why?”
“Something about the case, probably. The only people who know I’m here link to it.” I considered the idea. “You think cybernauts could be orchestrating the murders?”
“Many people with cybernetic alterations either consider themselves Techs or lean toward that party. Why target themselves?”
“Well, yah.” That reasoning didn’t sound right, though. “Cybernetic enhancement at that level is expensive, and some of the wealthiest populations support the Royalist party.” I got up and paced across my office, through rays of sunlight that slanted in the windows. “If cybernauts wanted to frame a political party, it would make more sense to target the Traditionalists. They’re the ones most opposed to alternation of the human body. It’s in their party platform.” Which was one reason they lagged behind other parties in membership; most people had some sort of enhancement to their body, as a medical procedure, for their jobs, or to make their lives better. “Whatever blocked my access, we need a workaround. Lavinda Majda expects me to contact her.”
“Perhaps her brother Tamarjind can help.”
I stopped pacing. “That’s a good idea. See if you can comm him.” Since Tam was on-planet and a professor at the university, I didn’t need the extensive security protocols required to contact the offworld home for the General of the Pharaoh’s Army.
“I’ve sent a message,” Max said. “I will monitor that channel for attempts to intercept it. If I don’t get an answer from him, I’ll try other channels.”
“Good work.” I sat on the edge of my desk. “Did you identify that cyclist?”
“Not yet. You’re right, her facial implants make recognition more difficult.”
“Do your best.” I crossed my arms. “If I’m going to the tavern, I should leave soon.”
“You should go.”
“I suppose.” They could have sent me a normal message instead of chasing me through the forest when I wanted to unwind. I couldn’t neglect potential leads, though. “I’ll need precautions.”
“I would suggest your pulse revolver.”
“Yah. Also the red beetle. And a knife in my wrist sheath.” Primitive methods could work surprisingly well when no one expected them. “Any news from Blue?”
“It is still following the cyclist. However, it ran out of memory twenty minutes ago.”
“All right, recall it. Have it download its records to you.” Max had far more memory than my beetles and could store their data on my mesh node here at the apartment.
“Downloading.” Max paused. “That’s odd. It has no records. Something erased them.”
Damn. “Do you think the cyclist knew the bot was spying on her?”
“It’s possible. The beetle drones are too small to carry any substantial shroud tech.”
“I should bring the jammer, too, so I have a good shroud.” I looked around for my backpack.
“It’s in your bedroom. You had me update its systems last night before you went to sleep.”
“Ah, that’s right.” I was still adjusting to the shorter days here, close to the Earth standard of twenty-four hours. A day lasted eighty hours on Raylicon, forty light and forty dark. I fetched the red beetle from my desk and slid it my jacket pocket. “Have Blue meet us on the way to the tavern.”
“I sent the command. And Bhaaj. Be careful with this one. Something is off.”
“I will.” I had no idea what waited for us at the tavern.