Barely Human: Shadow Plays

[CeJay]

Barely Human
SHADOW PLAYS

* * * *
PART ONE
* * * *


001 - “It’s A Whole New World Out There.”


<Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans,
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens,
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood,
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode,
Who never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play a guitar like ringing a bell.>

Mech was sick to death of seekers but that didn’t stop her from getting a certain kick from diving through FedNet at breakneck speeds and keeping those automated locator programs on a futile struggle to keep up with her.

These ones were more tenacious than usual however. The three tubular devices were not going to give up without a fight.

Mother noticed. <Your singing is as impeccable as always but you might need all your concentration for this one.>

Mech smirked as she executed one tight turn after another.

<Go, Go,
Go Johnny Go Go,
Go Johnny Go Go,
Go Johnny Go Go,
Johnny B. Goode.>

Mech trusted Mother even – or perhaps because – she had never seen her face, never spoken to her outside FedNet, didn’t even know her name or how old she was. She was not close to her age that seemed obvious. Mother simply knew too much, had seen too much and most importantly was too skilled in the cyber realm as not to possess a long lifetime’s worth of experience.

They had met five years ago right here in the vast depth of the latticework of green and black grids and numbers which to the unfamiliar eye reassembled a confusing and incoherent maze but to those knowledgeable with its structure was a real world away from the real world.

And these seekers had been after her ever since. Where they came from Mech didn’t know, all she knew was that she couldn’t allow them to catch her.


Mech’s avatar, a purple haired and shapely young woman of young age and undetermined race dove through FedNet weightlessly and with apparent skill. She could maneuver through cyber-space with even more ease and grace as when she moved through the physical world. And given Mech’s talents that was saying quite a bit.

She couldn’t see Mother but she knew she was close.

<He used to carry his guitar in a gunny sack,
Or sit beneath the trees by the railroad track.
Oh, the engineers used to see him sitting in the shade,
Strumming with the rhythm that the drivers made.
The people passing by, they would stop and say,
Oh my that little country boy could play.>

Clad in a long flowing white dress Mech dove through a distinctly dense part of FedNet, symbolized by the many bright green flashes of light shooting back and forth across the grid.

<The Alpha Centauri junction> Mother’s disembodied voice said. <You might be able to lose them in there.>

Mech somersaulted right towards the epicenter of the pulsing mass of activity.

Two of the seekers stayed with her.

<Go, Go,
Go Johnny Go Go,
Go Johnny Go Go,
Go Johnny Go Go,
Johnny B. Goode.>

Motivated by her own song, Mech moved even faster now. Speed had always been one of her strength in the virtual world. But she could only go that fast. Something kept her from going any faster. The FedNet interface was bound by the restrictions of the physical network it was based on. There were rumors that there were ways to completely free oneself from those restrictions.

She slalomed in between thousands of other users who were barely even aware of her presence. She dove left and right, up and down and yet the locator programs refused to be shaken.

<His mother told him someday you will be a man,
And you would be the leader of a big old band.
Many people coming from miles around,
To hear you play your music when the sun go down
Maybe someday your name will be in lights
Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight.>

Mother did notice the rising strain in her voice. <Trouble?>

<Are you close?>

<Yes,> she replied in a maternal sounding voice and not for the first time did Mech realize that her net-name had been well chosen. <I can see you. You have almost reached the center of the AC junction.>

<These damn things are not letting up.>

<I know.>

<Getting more desperate to catch me?> Mech asked with a sly grin on her lips.

<Perhaps. They’ve been playing this game for a long time.>

Mech shot through the Alpha Centauri junction, diving amongst billions of other signals now, most of which were low-grade casual users who had little knowledge or skill to navigate the more intricate ways of FedNet.

<Any thoughts who they might belong to?>

<I have my theories.>

Mech thought better of it than to ask Mother if she wanted to share those. She never did.

<You might have to try something a bit more aggressive this time.>

Mech’s smile widened. She flipped around almost instantly, putting herself on collision course with the seekers.

<Careful,> Mother said, <impatience is every hero’s downfall.>

Mech began spinning towards the seekers which were beginning to glow red as they sensed their target’s proximity.

Seconds before the seemingly inevitable impact Mech put on the breaks. She came to a dead stop and held out her palms toward the incoming projectiles.

<Go, Go,
Go Johnny Go Go,
Go Johnny Go Go,
Go Johnny Go Go,
Johnny B. Goode.>

Blue energy rays shot out of her hands and towards the seekers. One fried instantly, the other evaded just in time to avoid the full brunt of the attack.

<Not bad,> said Mother.

The remaining seeker changed course and Mech watched it carefully as it zigzagged across the grid, apparently unable to reacquire its target.

Satisfied that it seemed out of commission she relaxed. <That should take care of that.>

<Are you quite sure of that?>

Mech looked over her shoulder. The seeker had found her again and was racing towards her, faster than ever.

<Oh-Oh.>

<Take it out.>

Mech held out her palms but this time the energy beams refused to emerge. <I might have a problem here,> she said as her eyes grew wider. The seeker would impact with her any second. It was too late to try and make another run for it. Once the device would hit her, a powerful energy surge would spike her enhancers and probably overload her brain right along with it. Even if she survived the hit, whoever had been looking for her over all these years would have finally succeeded in locating her. It was not a prospect she was looking forward to. Mech appreciated her privacy.

<I’d say.>

<A little help?>

No sooner had she spoken the request as a blinding white light emerged right between her and the incoming seeker. The software construct vanished as if swallowed up by the light. In its stead a figure emerged out of the light. It was unmistakably female but it lacked any features that would have hinted towards an actual person. Sure, it consisted out of two arms and legs, a torso and a head but there was no skin or face to speak off. Instead Mother was constructed out of the same flickering grid that made up the structure of FedNet. Mech had long since stopped wondering about her unusual choice of avatar.

The seeker was nowhere in sight.

<Someday you’ve got to teach me how you do that.>

A few lines where Mother’s face was supposed to be moved gently. Mech understood this to be a smile.

Mother took off again and Mech had little trouble staying at her side as they made their way deeper into FedNet.

<You didn’t come here to watch me play hide and seek, did you?>

<I love to hear you sing.>

Mech continued to follow her, leaving behind the busy AC junction. But soon enough Mech knew exactly where they were headed. If Alpha Centauri had been full of activity than their next destination was practically bustling at the seams.

<Earth,> Mech said after noticing the particular signature of the net junction. <Always a popular location.>

<Yes but what is really interesting here is that what you cannot see.>

<Okay, what am I not seeing?>

<Hold still.>

Mech did as she was told. Out of the corner of her virtual eye she noticed that Mother was moving towards her. She didn’t stop and was going to collide with her. <Watch out.>

<Just hold still.>

Mech wanted to budge but didn’t. Not even when the shimmering green avatar collided with her. No, collided was the wrong word. It passed through her.

Her skin crawled for just a moment as Mother’s avatar became one with her own. She gasped. Something was taking hold of her inside, she struggled against it.

<Don’t fight it.>

And then she felt it. Everything that Mother was and more streamed into her own consciousness. Years of experience, of joy and pain and every other emotion known to man. It was both painful and pleasurable at the same time. But it was also too much information at once. The images flashed in front of her mind’s eye at such speed she couldn’t hold on to a single one.

And then it was all gone. She missed the feeling instantly.

Mother had left but they were no longer in FedNet. At least no part of the network she had ever seen. She floated above what appeared to be an endless green ocean, above her was an equally infinite dark sky. The Earth junction was still close, right below her, shimmering on the crystal clear surface of the water. She couldn’t just see her surroundings, she could sense them as well.

And what she sensed more than anything else was the pull coming from the junction below her.

Mother appeared beside her again.

<It this the Source?>

<Yes.>

<Why did you bring me here?>

<I want you to see what I see. I want you to feel what I feel.>

Mech couldn’t help but focus on the unusually high activity around the junction. It was nothing she had ever seen before. It wasn’t just a high number of users, it was the inexplicable power of a few, perhaps just one. It was tightly focused on one particular section of the junction.

<North America, the western seaboard,> said Mother who knew exactly what Mech was thinking.

<Who could create so much activity in just one location?>

Without a word of warning her surroundings collapsed only to return to the much more familiar green grid that made up FedNet. Earth junction was still there but it looked exactly the way it had looked before.

Mech shot Mother a puzzled glance.

<Now that is an excellent question.>


- - - -

 

[Dnoth]

Huh. Interesting. This is a totally different view of the Federation from what I have ever seen. I like different.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

A very different kind of story. Reminds me just a bit of the "Matrix" with a twist.

I have a lot of questions, but I imagine you'll answer them in up-coming installments, so I'll refrain from asking for now. I'm looking forward to more - this is interesting!

 

[Mistral]

There are hints of Burning Chrome in there but still an interesting view. Who's on the Western Seaboard burning up so much processing power? Spock?

 

[CeJay]

Thanks guys. If you like different than you just might come to like Barely Human. This is an experimental pilot and if it works I might continue writing it. It is inspired by many cyberpunk-ish works, some more obvious than others.

There'll probably going to be more questions than answers for a while. I hope you'll bear with me though.

 

[CeJay]

002 – “That’s Why I Hate Taking The Train”


Gavin Thorgood was bored as he watched the California countryside zip past him. This was not what he had signed up for. He had left behind the uniformed service mostly due to the promise that as a special operative he’d more effective in eradicating the last strands of crime which plague his home world. Some might have considered his unwavering dedication to duty idealistic but he didn’t care. He liked being an idealist and why not? Wasn’t idealism what the Federation had been founded on? As of late however cynicism and skeptical minds prevailed, especially in his line of work.

Gavin was frustrated and it wasn’t just because of the alarmingly rising crime rate or the general disparagement of his colleagues. It was his ineffectiveness he contemplated as he sat in the window seat of the Trans-Fran line connecting San Jose with the Bay City. This was one of many similar trips he had done in the last few months and they all ended with the same futile result. What was the point?

Was he finally joining the ranks of the cynics?

“Pay attention rookie. Our subject is not out there.”

Gavin frowned as he looked at the man sitting next to him. He didn’t like being called rookie but there wasn’t much he could do about it. As the newest member of the team he really had no right to complain.

Tank smiled. “Getting bored, eh?”

Gavin thought of himself as a man in a decent physical condition, tall and well built upper body. And yet he completely paled in comparison to Tank. His name was well deserved and gave further credence to his suspicion that it had to be a nickname. The man was a machine. Shoulderx as broad as a house and muscles strong enough to lift one. His skin was dark, his head hairless except for the small well trimmed beard surrounding his mouth and reaching his chin. He was not quite human, he looked way too big to be one. But he hadn’t figured out what species he belonged to exactly.

“After doing this for the umpteenth time it is difficult to still see the point, boss,” Gavin replied as he brushed through his long mane of dirty blonde hair.

Tank uttered a deep rumble which Gavin had learned to be his attempt of sighing. He focused on a seat roughly ten rows ahead where a dark-haired man sat quietly by himself. He wore wraparound sunglasses which were attached so closely to his face they looked as if they part of it. The long black coat and dark boots he wore had garnered him the ominous epithet Mister Black. Truth was that neither Gavin nor Tank had the slightest idea what is real name was.

“You think he’s gonna slip up this time,?” Gavin asked.

“Not a chance. He knows exactly that we’re here and how to get rid of us.”

Gavin looked back out of the window. The super high-speed train was moving away from the Bay and was now coming up fast onto Daly City and the outskirts of San Francisco. “So it’ll be like every other time then.”

“It’s a stupid ass game we keep playing and to be honest I’m sick with it.”

“Yeah?” Gavin asked, not really paying him much attention and missing the menacing inflection in his partner’s tone. “What you gonna do about it?”

Tank suddenly stood up. <Cover me.>

Gavin whipped around as if he couldn’t believe Tank’s voice reverberating in his enhanced brain. <What’re you doing?>

Tank slowly moved up the train and towards Black. <We’ll bring him in for questioning.>

The rookie jumped to his feet a bit too quickly which garnered him some curious looks from other passengers. He took a deep breath and slowed his movements. His right hand found the grip of his Fletcher 88 Enforcer hidden under his jacket.

<Boss, our orders are surveillance only. We have nothing on this guy and you know it.>

Tank continued forward, closing in on the subject.

Black slightly turned his head to his left, stopping short of actually making eye contact with the operative approaching him from behind. A tiny smile crept onto his thin lips.

<Damn, he’s made us.>

Gavin pulled his silver Fletcher and instantly knew he had made a mistake.

Passengers all around him screamed and jumped out of their seats upon seeing the firearm. Many had never seen one before up close but had read or seen enough news and entertainment content to realize what it was and how much damage it could do. Panic quickly ensued.

Black stood up calmly as if nothing was the matter and then slowly moved down the aisle and away from Tank.

And then something happened that completely astonished the veteran agent. Some of the panicked passengers, instead of running away from him – and he knew he struck an imposing figure – were coming right towards him, practically throwing themselves at him.

“Get out of the way!” he shouted and roughly pushed a young brunette to his side. A few rows ahead, Black had no such problems. In fact he moved down the train easily, the passengers parting in front of his path.

Gavin was doing no better. An older man was reaching out for his gun arm and pulling it down. “What are you crazy? Let go of me.”

The senior was no match for Gavin’s strength but he couldn’t shake a feeling of guilt when he shoved the interloper onto the ground, his head painfully connecting with an armrest.

Black in the meantime had reached the front of the train car and turned on his heel, his long coat fluttering like a cape. Tank still trying to clear his own path from crazed passengers dead set to slow him down noticed that Black had reached into his coat to retrieve a nasty looking weapon.

“Get down!” he shouted and with one immense push flattened the people in front of him by throwing his own wait on them.

The green energy blast still ripped into the right side of his arm. He gritted his teeth but didn’t allow himself to cry in pain.

Another bolt whizzed just inches past Gavin before slamming into the back of the train and blowing a large hole into the wall.

“My God, what is this guy using!” shouted the shocked agent just before he found cover behind a row of empty seat. Whatever it was, it was all kinds of illegal on Earth. If nothing else they had him on possession and use of a prohibited weapon. Not to mention endangerment of the public, destruction of public property and injuring a Municipal Safety officer.

<Boss, are you alright?>

<Don’t worry about me, take the bastard down already.>

Gavin brought up his Fletcher and found a clear shot. He fired.

And then he watched in amazement as the crimson phaser blast was simply absorbed by Black, causing him to stumble a bit in the process but otherwise remaining on his feet.

Gavin looked at his weapon. It was set on level two which was supposed to be enough to stun most humanoid life forms. The blasted thing only had three settings.

Unimpressed Back fired his weapon again and Gavin only barely managed to find cover. When he looked up again he noticed the gaping hole in the seats above him where seconds before his head had been.

Tank in the meantime had to deal with entirely different problems. The injury to his arm was the least of them. Three more passengers had decided to pile up on him and pinning him to the ground. He had enough. Using his good arm it took him little effort to throw all three off him in one swift motion. He paid little attention to where they landed. He had more pressing matters to concern himself with.

Once freed he rushed forward and towards Black. He didn’t even consider using his own Fletcher. A sling shot would have been of more use. “You’re coming with me you son of bitch.”

But Black remained irritatingly composed for the fact that he was being rushed by a three-hundred pound opponent. He went into a squat to deposit something on the floor.

What the hell is this guy doing?

Tank didn’t have much more time to think about it. Black fired on the nearest window which instantly shattered. Than without so much as a run-up he leaped towards the window from his crouched position. His feet landed on the window frame, he spun around and pushed himself upwards.

Tank was impressed. That was not an easy feat, especially at four-hundred miles per hour.

He headed for the broken window, the strong wind blowing into his face. Looking up there was no sign of Black.

“Boss, is this what I think it is?”

Tank turned to see Gavin who was now inspecting a small triangular device, shaped like a small, palm-sized pyramid, on the floor. Black had positioned it there before leaping out of the window. Blue indicator lights were flashing along all three sides in an increasing rhythm.

Tank didn’t need to look twice to know what they were dealing with . <It’s a bomb alright.>

<Can we move it?>

Tank shook his head. <I wouldn’t recommend it. These things have motion sensors. I say we have two minutes max. Get these people on the next car, double time,> he said and moved down the aisle again. His focus was on the ceiling. Black was on top of them.

<What are you going to do?>

“Less talking, more action,” Tank shouted back.

Gavin sighed and looked at the explosive. “And I really wanted to make it home for dinner today.” He quickly shook off those unlikely fantasies and stood. “Alright people, for your own safety move to the next car. Now!”

There was general confusion by this announcement.

“What the hell, y’all think I’m kidding?” Gavin drew his gun for emphasis.

The crowd got the message.

Tank pulled some of the passengers back on their feet as he moved down the train. He recognized a few of them as the ones who attacked him earlier. Now they just seemed perplexed, not sure where they were or what to do. “Move your butt’s people,” he shouted at them but continued determinedly towards the other end.

<Shall we stop the train?> Gavin asked as he supervised the passengers’ escape.

<Way too late for that,> the veteran replied. He had reached the end of train and smashed one of the last windows with his bare fist. <Dive into the system and disconnect the car form the rest of the train.>

Gavin reached out for an elderly person who was moving way too slow for his taste. “Please, sir, you’ve gotta hurry.” <Alright but there is at least one more car attached to this train.>

<I’ll take care of that.>

Tank nearly ripped open the door leading to the next car and shoved passengers who were not getting the messaged through the door. “Move all the way down, folks. All the way down!”

They still didn’t get it but at least they were moving.

When the last one was through Tank sealed the door and connected to a nearby computer terminal. Shorty after the last car detached from the train. When he was satisfied he looked across the car to where Gavin was helping the last person out of the doomed compartment. They had less than forty seconds left. It was going to be tight. <Ok, do it!>

Gavin nodded. The young agent stepped through the door and closed it shut behind him. He better have a ticket out of this. Not even he’d able to survive this, he thought but didn’t quite dare to communicate to his partner. Tank hated this kind of thing. Shut up and worry about your own damn butt, was his usual reply.

He reached into his jacket to retrieve a disc-shaped device about two inches in diameter. He pulled it apart easily so that he had two discs. He attached one to a computer terminal. “Keep moving up the train,” he told a few passengers who lingered around him. Then he turned to the terminal and sighed. “I hate this part,” he mumbled just before he attached the second disc to the side of his neck.

The terminal was not difficult to hack. Within seconds his brain enhancers had bypassed the single firewall protecting the train couplings. He got out clean.

Not a moment later he noticed that the train was pulling away from the car Tank was still standing in. <We’re clear. May I recommend you get out of there too?>

<Why don’t you shut up and worry about – >

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Gavin said to himself. He had already terminated the link. Why listen to the same thing all day long? He quickly moved forward, imploring the confused passengers to do the same.

Tank jumped on the window frame he cleared earlier and pulled himself onto the roof of the car nearly as gracefully as Black had a little while earlier. The car was slowing but was still doing a good three hundred something. Not the ideal velocity to move around on top of a train.

Once he had found his footing he also rediscovered Black. He was slowly making his way down the roof of the other train car. He froze and turned to stare right at Tank.

There was nothing the agent wanted more than go after the man. He didn’t like being shown off. But he had about ten seconds left before his ride would blow up from under his feet. The gap between his car and the one Black stood on was now almost two-hundred yards and increasing by the second. He would need a good run-up to bridge that gap. No time.

Swearing under his breath Tank jumped off the train.

Just before it was ripped apart.


- - - -

 

[Dnoth]

Your story brings up an intersting question. How are implants/cybernetics regulated within the Federation? ...I'm sure you'll answer that later.

 

[DavidFalkayn]

A different Star Trek tale, but one that holds lots of promise. I'm curious as to why the people on the train attempted to pull down Tank and Gavin--Does Black have some sort of mental/empathic abilities? Did Tank survive? What does this have to do with chapter one? There are plenty of questions, but I'm sure you'll supply the answers in the fullness of time...

You've got me hooked here.

 

[TheLoneRedshirt]

Interesting change from chapter one. I assume you are helping us become acquainted with your characters.

A lot of action in this segment. Tank sounds like a Centauran from your description, although I'm sure there are probably other humanoid species of that size and strength in the Trek universe. Hope he survived the blast - he's an interesting character.

Is there a connection between Mr. Black and the characters of chapter one? I guess I'll just have to follow the white rabbit to find out!

 

[CeJay]

Thanks for reading and all the feedback!

"Everything is connected" is somewhat of the unoffical tagline for Barely Human. It might not be apparent right now but hopefully it will become more evident as the story progesses.

 

[CeJay]

003 – “Welcome To Bay City, Kid.”


Jackson Slade pulled his white four-door hover into the pick-up area of San Francisco Air Terminal North just a few short miles outside the city in Sausalito. He idled there for a minute before the driver’s door rolled up and he stepped outside.

One wouldn’t have been able to determine Jackson’s profession easily from simply judging his plain vehicle or his indistinct grey pants with matching jacket. He wore his brown hair short to the scalp and possessed two hazel eyes which most likely had seen a lot more that most would have guessed on first sight. To appear unassuming was a plus in his line of work. And he would have been able to pull it off too, had it not been for his slightly stiff demeanor which he was unable to shake even when he tried to casually lean against the car. Something about his mannerisms spoke of official business, military even.

His insistent eyes scanned the swarms of people coming out of the large glass and steel construct which was the air terminal’s arrival building. They were travelers coming from all over the planet and yet none of them looked as if they had traveled for long. No wonder, a shuttle ride to the farthest destination only took an average of three hours.

“Hello.”

Startled Jackson looked to his side to see a short, young woman in her mid-twenties. She reached just about his shoulders and in fact appeared so delicate that it seemed to border on a miracle that she was able to carry the large holdall that was slung over her shoulder.

“Can I help you, Miss?” Jackson asked without paying her much more attention. After all he had come here to pick up a new team member and not to engage in frivolous conversations with young bright-eyed girls.

The woman brushed a few strands of her long blonde hair out of her face. “Well, yeah, I hope so.”

“Cabs are down the street. You can catch the Trans Fran from level two, that’ll take you into the city,” Jackson replied, keeping his eyes on the thinning crowd.

“Alright then,” she said and walked off. She stopped after just a few steps. “I think somebody was supposed to come and pick me up though.”

Slade slowly turned his head to study the young blonde from head to toe. She wasn’t bad looking at all, a bit too young for him perhaps. She looked quite innocent and naïve, like a country girl making her first trip to the big city. Could it be her? He was waiting for a cybernetics and computer expert. A person who had spend the last five years of their life inside a lab. This girl looked more at home at the beach.

“Where you coming from, Miss?”

“Cambridge.”

Damn. “Bobbie Case?”

She lightened. “Yes, that’s me. You must be Mister Slade,” she said with a beaming smile and held out her hand. “It’s great to meet you, sir.”

Jackson stiffened even more when he awkwardly took her hand. She had a pretty solid grip too.

“Gosh, this could have been really weird, don’t you think?” she asked still displaying those pearly whites.

Could have? “I apologize, I wasn’t expecting a …”

“Woman?”

Girl more like it. “No, that’s not what I meant.”

“Don’t feel bad I get that a lot.”

“Let me take this,” he offered and took her holdall. He stepped to the back of his vehicle and the trunk quickly slid open. “You just don’t look like one of those whiz-kids coming straight out of college.” He placed the bag into the car and the trunk lid slipped back into position. When he looked back at the young Case he found that her smile had vanished.

“Please don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

She was practically frowning now. “Call me a whiz-kid. I really don’t like it.”

“Duly noted,” he replied and pointed the passenger door. “Ready to get to know your new job?”

And just like that the frown was gone again. “Am I ever?”

No two minutes later they were on the road. By her large, all-consuming eyes, Jackson quickly determined that she had never been to California before. She radiated excitement from seeing pretty much everything he took for granted. The endless Pacific, the massive sequoias and then finally the San Francisco skyline and the bright crimson Golden Gate Bridge.

Amongst the skyline one building stood out more than any other, easily twice as high as the famous white Pyramid and adorned with a large blue and silver Federation emblem it was easily discernable even before they had reached the bridge.

Jackson noticed the special attention Bobbie was giving it.

“Federation Plaza. The most recent addition to the city’s skyscrapers. Not the most popular building around here though.”

“Why’s that?”

Jackson shrugged. “San Franciscans are old fashioned I guess. While most cities have built massive skylines, Frisco has for the most part stuck to the old ways. Even after the Breen the city was reconstructed almost exactly the way it had been before. And Fed Plaza doesn’t really fit in with the old look.”

With that Bobbie could only agree. The mega-scraper struck a bit of a sad picture, all by itself as the undisputed tallest building in the skyline. Nobody even came close.

The young girl had quickly found another sight to focus on.

At this Jackson smirked. “Starfleet Headquarters,” he said and Bobbie Case was certain she could hear a tiny hint of sentimentality in his tone.

Bobbie nodded slowly as he watched the massive campus which as always was a hub of activity.

“If the locals don’t like Fed Plaza they’re really not crazy over Starfleet having made the city their home,” he said and then continued before she could ask why. “I guess Starfleet has a tendency to think that because they’re the single biggest institution in the Federation that they can run the city. They practically own the entire air space in the county, one of the reasons we had to come pick you up from the Sausalito terminal. The other, because of their heavy use of transporters, civilian transporter activity in San Francisco is lower than in any other city in the Federation.”

“A bit ironic, isn’t it?”

“Sure. But then again you might prescribe to the emerging faction who believes that excessive beaming can lead to long term cellular damage.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” Bobbie said. “They say they don’t have any scientific proof of it.”

“It’s nonsense if you ask me but ever since the theories surfaced, overzealous politicians have been trying to curb transporter activity, especially here on Earth,” said Jackson and put the hover onto the on ramp, leading up onto Golden Gate. “Normally we’d take the tunnel but seeing this being your first trip to the city I’ll show you around a bit.”

The young woman seemed to appreciate the gesture and gave him another large smile. “So you guys been having problems with the Fleet?”

The driver shrugged. “Some in the department don’t like them very much. But I wouldn’t worry too much about it.”

“I thought about joining after school. I mean it was difficult to go to a recruitment event without them trying to sign you up.”

“They never fully recovered from the War.”

The Starfleet campus disappeared behind a tree line and Bobbie turned her attention back to her new superior. “They don’t really have a cybernetics program anymore, that’s what made my decision to go to MIT instead a lot easier.”

Jackson nodded but didn’t say anything. Bobbie got the distinct impression that Starfleet was not his favorite topic. And then she noticed the masses of people crowding the bridge ahead.

The hover came to a crawl.

“Protestors,” Jackson Slade almost spat.

Bobbie didn’t have to ask what they were protesting against. Their large computerized banners and slogans flashed numerous messages which made their cause unmistakably clear.

“Leave nature alone, we don’t want no cyborg drone,” Bobbie said, reading one of the signs out loud.

Jackson had already rolled down the windows. “Come on, people, don’t you have jobs to go to!” he shouted and angrily hit the horn.

The crowds couldn’t have cared less.

“These anti-cybernization protestors are a real pain in this city.”

“You think these guys are bad,” said Bobbie. “I was in Paris over the summer. You can hardly turn your head without running into some protestors there.”

Jackson maneuvered the vehicle slowly through the crowd. “That’s the French for you. Protesting about something is in their nature.”

It might have been intended as a joke but Bobbie didn’t find it very funny. In fact she was certain the protests in Paris had been due to the fact that it was the capital city of the Federation and not because of some outdated stereotype Jackson Slade still prescribed to.

“I don’t know what all the fuss is about to be honest,” she said. “It’s a voluntary procedure and dramatically increases anyone’s potential.”

Jackson shot her a quick smile. “Of course you would say that,” he replied. “You’re a cybernetics expert. Just do me a favor and don’t advertise it until we’re out of here.”

Bobbie looked downright scared when she glanced back at the crowd. The fear didn’t persist however. This was no angry mob just a group of people who felt it necessary to voice their opinions more blatantly than others. No matter if one agreed with the sentiment or not, it was within their rights to do so.

“Let’s see what the newsfeeds have to say about this,” said Jackson and opened a link on his enhancers.

< -- anti-cybernization rallies have been reported in two-hundred metropolises around Federation space, marking today the second consecutive week of protests.> the female news anchor reported. <While most local governments have declared that they will not pass any cybernization restrictions a speaker for the Federation Council said that the Council has not ruled out to suggest more stringent laws to oversee or possibly restrict the use of cybernetic modifications on sentient life-forms -->

“That’s just obtuse,” Bobbie commented, listening in on the same feed.

Jackson seemed less concerned. “It’s just people fearing what they don’t yet understand. It always happens, it always passes. It’s that New Gaia movement and their insufferable leader Heracles who are the main instigators of this whole mess. Once people find out that they are nothing more than fear mongers this whole thing will go away.”

<In other news, the sectarian violence on Asuka III, a colony world of the close Federation ally of the Nyuchiba Confederacy continues after days of continuous fighting amongst the rival clans. The Nyuchiban ambassador to the Federation has informed us that his government has declared a state of emergency effectively immediately after the prefect of Asuka III was killed in an assassination plot two days ago. The ambassador further stated that his government would look favorably at any assistance the Federation could provide. In response Federation President Kuntii’la has asked Starfleet to dispatch the USS Tripoli to Asuka III for an assessment of the situation. We have learned however that opposition in the Council is warning that too much involvement -- >

<Slade, Masamune here. What’s your current position?>

Jackson replied instantly to the incoming message. <I just picked up our new techie. We’re on Golden Gate right now. We should be there shortly.>

<Belay that. We have a situation out in Daly. Looks bad. Get over there now.>

<Copy that.>

“Looks like the sightseeing tour has to wait. Duty calls,” Jackson said and hit a control which caused the vehicles shrill sirens to blare loudly. The astonished crowds jumped back from the hover as it suddenly began to pick up speed. “Let’s go people. This is an emergency!”


- - - -

 

[DavidFalkayn]

I've always been curious regarding the attitude of cybernetics within the Federation--you'd think that there would be a strong backlash due to the Borg.

The New Gaia movement also sounds like an interesting development--Luddites perhaps?

 

[CeJay]

004 – “Mr. President, Have Pity On The Working Man.”


She was fifteen minutes late and she hated to be late. For somebody as methodical and disciplined, tardiness was an almost inexcusable character trait. It was bad enough under regular circumstances and multiple times worse when meeting the person who had summoned her.

Not for the first time she cursed under her breath when she had to wait for the turbo-lift to arrive. It took her another agonizing minute to get to her destination on the fifteenth floor. She had counted every second.

“They’re already waiting for you,” the irritatingly friendly secretary announced when she stepped into the anteroom. “You may go right in.”

She nodded shortly towards the pretty brunette before she took a deep breath and forcefully pushed the two heavy wooden doors open.

Making great entrances were one of her many skills, no matter that perhaps a low-key approach might have been more appropriate considering the circumstances.

“Ah, Admiral Tessier, so good you could join us.”

The Starfleet admiral stood straight as a ramrod while she allowed the doors to close behind her. As she had feared everybody was already present. The man who had addressed her was a tall and lanky Bolian of middle age with a playful smile on his lips. She knew all too well that his cordiality was nothing but an empty mask under which he hid his true persona. What that was however she hadn’t really been able to figure out yet. But she knew she didn’t like the man, certainly didn’t trust him.

Also in the room, sitting in one of the plush chairs was a much shorter man with graying hair and of seemingly Southeast Asian descent. He wasn’t however. Not directly at least.

Salina Tessier focused on the third man in the room. He sat behind a lavish oak and ebony desk, the city’s vista sprawled out behind him, visible through the curved panoramic window.

He looked somewhat jaded and uninterested by anything transpiring in his office but that too was an entirely the wrong impression.

“Mister President, I apologize by my lateness but we had a situation I had to deal with urgently. I hope it hasn’t presented too much of an inconvenience.”

President Kuntii’la looked at her through his dark, brooding eyes and smiled. The leader of the United Federation of Planets gave the Starfleet Admiral a dismissive hand gesture as if he didn’t care in the slightest that she had not been on time. “I understand that you are very busy, Admiral. Do not concern yourself with our inconvenience,” he said. When he spoke his words came over his lips so slowly that Tessier swore he had to think about every single one before he uttered it. “Please, take a seat.”

The admiral nodded respectfully and did as had been suggested.

“I trust you have met the honorable Ambassador Fujiwara form the Nyuchiba Confederacy,” the president said.

“We have, yes,” she replied, greeting the oriental looking man with a friendly nod which was quickly reciprocated.

“Excellent,” he said and looked at his Bolian advisor who stood close to large computer screen. “Mister Sill, if you could shortly reiterate to the Admiral what we have discussed so far.”

Sill gave the president a wide smile before turning to Tessier who desperately attempted to keep her discomfort hidden. She wasn’t all too successful. “Mister Fujiwara has given us a summary of the measures his government have taken in order to attempt to bring a quick and peaceful solution to the continuous violence on Asuka III. “

“Unfortunately very few of those have shown any signs of success,” the ambassador continued for Sill. “You must understand that the three warring families have been fighting each other in one form or another for the last two-hundred years. Ever since we first colonized Asuka. Only in the last few decades have we been able to establish a more peaceful society on Asuka thanks to a power sharing government in which all three families have an equal amount of legislative and executive power. Since then the clans have restrained themselves to political feuds.”

“Until two months ago,” Sill pointed out.

“Correct,” the ambassador said. “We haven’t been able to determine the exact cause yet but at roughly that time we saw an emergence of increased violence among members of the families which quickly turned into street battles for resources and territory.”

“Asuka III possesses large quantities of deuterium deposits if I am not mistaken,” Tessier said.

Sill nodded. “The Nyuchiba Confederacy has been a valuable trading partner of the Federation for over one hundred years, ever since it decided to secede,” he explained and shot the ambassador a somewhat accusing glance.

Fujiwara didn’t take the bait. “The continuously cordial and productive relationship with the Federation is our most paramount concern,” he said and eyed the president instead. “Both our people have benefited greatly from it.”

Tessier quickly realized that the diplomat was no fool. He had most likely come here to ask for assistance in quelling a primarily internal uprising, something the Federation had made its highest imperative not to do. But the ambassador had many more cards to play and everybody in the office knew it. The Nyuchiba Confederacy was one of the few human alliances which had split from the Federation early on to try and establish an empire free of Federation doctrine. Nychibia for example had a thriving monetary economy and most of its citizens were still focused on material gain much like the citizens of Earth had been once. It came with a high price, namely civil unrest, a high-crime rate and poverty. But the Federation had never been able to turn their back completely from the once small group of mostly Japanese emigrants who had settled some fifty light-years from Earth and begun to colonize their own worlds. Nyuchiba had blossomed, or at least a percentage of its people had. The government had smartly put claim on a number of resource rich planets, making them the envy of many larger empires including the Federation which had grown somewhat dependent on their trade partnerships.

For the admiral this new situation was a perfect opportunity to push her own agenda. But she had to lay the groundwork carefully. “On your wishes we have already dispatched a vessel to Asuka III to get a first hand picture of the situation on the ground,” she told the president and then turned to the ambassador. “I am not quite sure what other kind of assistance you would like us to provide.”

“I would hate to ask for much more,” the ambassador said. “We don’t want to appear weak and dependent on the Federation. However our close relationship has always been under the assumption that the vast resources of the Federation will be used to help us whenever we find ourselves in need of them.”

Vast resources? the Admiral contemplated sarcastically. Clearly you haven’t read the latest Starfleet recruitment reports.

“I would also rather refrain from having to ask to officially invoke the provision of the FWA act. I believe it would be beneficial to us all if we found a different, perhaps less drastic measure to solve our problems,” the ambassador added.

At this both the president and Sill exchange a quick, concerned glance.

“Mister Ambassador,” Sill quickly interjected. “You know that you can count on any kind of humanitarian and medical assistance that Starfleet is able to offer in order to minimize the impact the current fighting will have on the civilian population of Asuka III.”

Fujiwara bowed respectfully in his chair. “My government appreciates this gesture. But we fear that this will only treat the symptoms of the problem and do little to help and cure the cause.”

“Mister President, I have Captain Westmorland from the Tripoli for you on subspace,” the voice of the secretary announced.

“Thank you, Anxara,” Kuntii’la replied before addressing the room. “I have asked to establish a connection to the Tripoli in order to hear from a source close to scene,” he said and then nodded at Sill.

The Bolian got the cue and activated a few panels on a computer console. “Captain Westmorland, this is Treluk Sill, special counsel to the president. You have come through to the office of President Kuntii’la who will be able to hear you now. Also present is Ambassador Fujiwara and Admiral Tessier.”

“Thank you, sir. Mister President. Mister Ambassador. Admiral,” the captain’s voice was understandingly reverent if not a little rough. The voice of a man not used to speak in front of politicians and most likely ill at ease at the prospect.

The president spoke first. “Captain, first of all, please make sure that you will extend my thanks to your valiant crew for undertaking this assignment.”

Tessier couldn’t quite suppress a hint of a smile. Like they had any say in the matter.

“We are very curious to hear what you have seen so far.”

There was a short pause as if the good captain needed a few moment to consider how best to explain what he had to say to the most powerful man in the Federation. “Mister President, the people we have encountered here on Asuka so far have been thrust right into the middle of a blood feud between the three ruling families without little hope of escaping the resulting collateral damage. At this point we estimated that in just a little less than six weeks of fighting at least six hundred thousand people have been affected.”

“That is about thirty percent of the entire population,” the ambassador chimed in.

Kuntii’la appeared genuinely concerned by those figures.

“Unfortunately since the assassination of the prefect the local government has all but dissolved as most officials have declared their allegiance to one of the clans. The Nyuchiban security forces are overwhelmed and have for the most part retreated to reinforced positions. We have also seen signs that some of the violence is spreading to neighboring planets. The single most aggressive family is the Yoritomo daimyo which has already declared that it will purge the entire planet from foreign influences. According to Yoritomo leaders this includes anyone who is not connected with their daimyo.”

The president placed both of his palms flat onto his desk, a sign that he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“Captain, this is Admiral Tessier. In your opinion do you think that Starfleet involvement would help pacify the planet or further deteriorate the situation?”

Sill threw the admiral a look which made it clear he didn’t appreciate the question. The ambassador however nodded approvingly.


“The people we have spoken to are weary of the families and would support any measure to bring stability back to the planet. We have evacuated over three hundred Federation citizens most of which report that the majority of the population is hoping for Federation intervention. However I must stress that I’m convinced that it would take a significant number of ground forces in order to restore order on Asuka III.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Sill said before Tessier could put forth a follow up. He glanced at the president who gave him an affirming nod. “The president and the rest of us appreciate your thorough report. We will be in contact with you again should we deem it necessary.”

“Thank you, Mister President.”

The Bolian counsel operated the controls again and the link was terminated.

“Mister Ambassador,” the president began. “In light of this report I suggest you allow us some time to consider what we have heard so far and reconvene at a later time.”

It wasn’t a suggestion at all and the ambassador understood. He left his chair. “Certainly, Mister President. I remain optimistic that together we will arrive at a mutually agreeable situation to solve this dire crisis. But please keep in mind that the longer the wait the higher the number of casualties.”

Tessier rolled her eyes. She was getting bored with the political niceties of these men. Why didn’t they just come out and say what they meant instead of hiding threats behind mostly empty words.

The president gave the ambassador a nod.

“Mister President,” Fujimoto said and bowed gracefully. He threw curt nods at the other two persons in attendance before striding confidently towards the exit.

Sill waited patiently until the heavy doors had closed behind the diplomat before he turned to Kuntii’la. “He will not wait long before pressuring us with the FWA.”

The president nodded in agreement and looked at the Starfleet officer. “Admiral, do you really believe that our best option is to use military means to stabilize Asuka III?”

Sill frowned but Tessier didn’t pay it any attention. “The best option to ensure Asuka isn’t lost to unsympathetic factions? Yes,” she proclaimed and stood from her chair.

The Bolian shook his head. “It would be a mistake to send Starfleet or even the Marines down there. The Council will vehemently oppose it, not to mention the public.”

“The public doesn’t understand what’s at stake,” Tessier shot back. “We let this situation get out of hand now and we will not only lose Asuka and eventually the entire system but it will only be a matter of time until the entire confederacy will be faced with civil war. Countless lives will be lost. Twenty-eight percent of our deuterium sources will dry up within days. That is a loss Starfleet – the entire Federation – cannot afford. Not now.”

Sill cocked his eyebrows. “That’s a little bit of an exaggerated scenario, Admiral, don’t you think?”

Tessier shrugged. “It might be worst case but we have enough analysts who predict that exactly this will happen if we do not act quickly.”

The Federation President picked up a computer padd on his desk and glanced over it. “From the latest reports you have provided Starfleet continues to be stretched beyond capacity. How would you intend to fulfill the requirements of such a large scale operation?”

The admiral’s eyes sparkled as she stepped closed to the polished oak desk. “We can’t.”

The president threw her a surprised look.

“Our projections indicate that we would require a minimal of four hundred fifty thousand Marines in order to pacify Asuka III within three months time. Even by substituting part of that contingent with regular Starfleet personnel there simply is no way that we could gather any such number within the next six to eight months.”

“You seem to have made a lot of projections on this matter already.”

Tessier ignored the Bolian.

“Forgive me, Admiral,” Kuntii’la said. “But I was under the impression you were a proponent of military intervention. And now you are proclaiming that it is impossible.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t say impossible, sir. Please allow me,” she added and asked for the padd the president was still holding. She quickly entered a few commands and passed it back.

Sill rounded the desk to step next to Kuntii’la’s side and spy onto the content of the padd. His wide smile was an indication of his surprise. He locked eyes with the admiral. “You must be kidding.”

“Not at all, sir,” she said flatly. “It is entirely possible and we’d able to boost Starfleet ranks to pre-war strengths within weeks. All we need is your go ahead.”

The president placed the padd onto his desk. Upside down. Tessier knew it was a no go.

“Admiral Tessier,” Sill began, his smile fading slightly. “You know this administration’s stance on cyborg technology. The president will not allow the Federation’s first and last line of defense to be computerized.”

Tessier looked at Kuntii’la who did not reciprocate the eye contact.

“Mister President, with all due respect, I understand the fear and apprehension about cyborg technology better than most. I have fought against the Borg and seen many of my fellow men assimilated in front of my very eyes. I’ve seen how they wiped out an entire fleet of starship in mere minutes and dissected a whole planet of sentient beings in less than a day. But we have to look forward and stop looking into the past for fear of the future. During the War, countless men lost arms, legs, even part of their brains and only thanks to cybernetic technology are they able to live normal and productive lives today. The technology is available and it is only logical that we now take the next step.”

The room fell quiet and Tessier felt pretty good about herself. She could tell by the empty look in Kuntii’la’s eyes that her message had been received.

The president slowly looked up at her. “I want to pursue a diplomatic course for now. Please advise Captain Westmorland to attempt and contact the leaders of the respective daimyos on Asuka III.”

Tessier was stunned.

“That would be all, Admiral. Thank you for your time,” Sill said, his smile as wide as ever.

She gave the Bolian a curt nod before venturing one more glance at her commander-in-chief behind the desk. His dark eyes never wavered. “Thank you, Mister President,” she said and quickly left.

Goddamn politicians.

- - - -

 

[Dnoth]

I must say, I find myself leaning on the anti-cyborg side of this debate. It makes me wonder how the Borg got started.

But it promises to be on hell of a story

 

[CeJay]

005 – “Who’s Gonna Clean Up This Mess?”


“Boss, you alright?”

Gavin had found Tank just a few meters from the flaming train wreckage. He of course wouldn’t have admitted it openly but he was greatly relieved when he found the imposing man apparently healthy and walking around, alas a bit confused it appeared.

“Have you seen my damn arm?”

And only then did Gavin realize that it was gone. His tight black shirt was ripped, exposing much of his muscular torso and his pants looked badly burned. But it was the glaring absence of the large limb which was most dazzling. There was no sign of blood and Tank showed not the slightest indication of the pain usually associated with such a severe injury.

It took Gavin a few moments to overcome the shock of seeing his partner sans right arm. Once he had he hastily turned to scan his surrounding which were covered in debris. “Uh, no.”

“It has to be here somewhere,” he muttered and effortlessly turned around a large piece of smoldering metal with his only remaining hand. He found nothing underneath. “Any casualties?”

The young operative looked back towards were the train had come to a stop no three hundred meters down the track. “The train’s automatic safety systems triggered an emergency stop after it had detected the explosions. A few passengers were banged up but I don’t think it’s anything serious.”

“Good,” Tank replied without ever interrupting his search for the missing limb. “The last thing we need now are casualties.”

“Right,” Gavin muttered.

Not a moment later a procession of emergency shuttles and hovers arrived at the scene. The emergency respond unit mostly consisted out of the San Francisco County and San Mateo County Rescue Departments. But Gavin also noticed three mostly white shuttles which carried the distinctive Starfleet delta on their hulls. He knew it would spell trouble.

“What happened here?”

Gavin had not noticed the man approach them from the other direction. To his credit Oshii Masamune was not a person who stood out much. The short man with a thinning head of white hair and somewhere between middle and advanced age simply did not strike an imposing figure. However he possessed a sharp and analytical mind which age had been unable to deteriorate. In fact the opposite appeared to be true. He was clad in a long brown coat and relied on a simple black cane to steady his steps as he approached the two operatives. If he had any concerns about the flames nearby he didn’t show them.

“And where is your arm?”

Tank shot the older man an upset glance before returning to search the debris.

“It was Black, chief,” Gavin explained. “He left us a little present. Fortunately we were able to evacuate all the passengers in time.”

Masamune placed both his hands on top of his cane as he surveyed the scene of destruction before him. Firefighters had already begun to combat the flames with increasing success. “And from your sour expressions I take it that Mister Black eluded you.”

The silence was answer enough.

“I look forward to reading your after-action report,” he stated dryly and then began to walk off towards the recently arrived shuttles. A number of Starfleet officers had emerged and Masamune had quickly identified the person in charge. A blue skinned Andorian man with two short antennae emerging from his white haired head.

Gavin looked after him. “He didn’t look too upset about it.”

Tank stopped and shot his partner an impatient glare. “Will you stop just standing around and help me find my goddamn arm!”

Masamune moved towards the Starfleet officer with determined stride. “Captain …”

“Whren. Captain Whren,” the Andorian said when he noticed Masamune approach him. “Starfleet Security. And you must be Mister Masamune from MSD.

“You are well informed, Captain,” the shorter man replied.

The Starfleet officer put on a self-important smile as he glanced upon the fiery wreck that had just a few minutes earlier been a high-speed commuter train. “Quite a bit of destruction your men caused here today,” he said and then looked at the short official. “But we’ll be more than happy to assist you in any way we can.”

“Excellent,” Masamune replied with a smile of his own. “You’d assist us the most if you get back into your shuttles and leave.”

“I beg your pardon?” the Starfleet officers’ smile dropped of his face.

“I believe you heard me. This is an official Municipal Safety investigation and at this point I’m neither asking nor tolerating Starfleet interference,” he said. Then he quickly turned towards two young Starfleet officers wearing thick protective gloves who were carefully lifting a smoldering piece of wreckage. “You drop that, that’s evidence in a crime scene.”

The two officers froze and looked at the short man with puzzled expressions.

“Yes, I’m talking to you two. Leave that where you found it.”

They complied hesitantly.

“Mister Masamune, we are here on direct orders from Admiral Tessier,” said Whren who didn’t fail to spot the frown on Masamune’s face when he mentioned his superior. “We are to assist in rescue operations and in determining the responsible parties for this … disaster,” he declared stone-faced. “I intend to follow those orders.”

“Well captain the way I see it you have two options.”

“And what would those be?”

“You can either follow my friendly suggestion and leave now.”

“Or?”

Masamune turned around and walked away slowly. “I’m placing you and all your men under arrest for willful interference with an official investigation. I’m sure Admiral Tessier would be delighted to pick you up from the city’s detention center. You have two minutes to make up your mind.”

“You’re bluffing,” the Andorian called after him.

A white hover with blaring sirens pulled up close to Masamune. Jackson Slade quickly jumped out of the vehicle. His eyes were focused with utter disbelief on the scattered debris and the firefighters suppressing the last few remaining flames. “Tank,” he whispered in an angry tone.

“Slade, call in additional units and inform them that we are taking roughly thirty individuals into custody,” the chief told him loud enough for everyone in the vicinity to overhear.

Slade looked at him and then at the infuriated Starfleet officer. His skin had now taken on a much darker shade of blue. “You’re threading on dangerous ground here, Mister Masamune.”

The chief took his time to turn and face the Starfleet officer. “You have made your choice then?”

Whren barred his teeth momentarily but then quickly returned to his shuttle. “We’re moving out!” he announced to his men.

Slade watched the Starfleet officers depart with curiosity. “What was that all about?”

“Saber-rattling,” Masamune answered.

Slade nodded but was quickly distracted when he noticed Tank and Gavin approach. The enormously broad-chested man had been unsuccessful in locating the missing arm. Slade barely even took notice. “Damnit Tank, you were supposed to shadow Black not blow him to high heavens.”

“We didn’t blow up the train. He placed a device –“

But Slade had no intention on listening to Gavin’s explanations. “Your mission was to keep an eye on Black and see if he would eventually lead us to Grayson. How the hell are we going to explain this?” he asked angrily, pointing at the field of debris. “You better pray nobody was killed in this inferno.”

“Yeah that was a bang-up plan,” Tank replied through gritted teeth and with rising anger. “Have you been awake for the last few months? This guy has been able to give us the slip every single time. We are supposed to be a proactive law enforcement unit which takes actions instead of sitting on their butt all day. We tried to bring the guy in and answer some –“

“Bring him in?” Slade couldn’t believe his ears. He shot a quick glance at Masamune but didn’t find much support there. “Have you lost your mind completely? Your mission parameters were to--”

“Screw the mission parameters!” Tank shot back.

Slade’s words got stuck in his throat.

“Listen,” Gavin began much more calmly. “We had very little on this Black character to begin with. We know he is instrumental in the stims trade in the city and we have strong suspicions that he might work for Grayson but that’s it. At least now we have some real charges with which we can go after him.”

Slade laughed sarcastically. “Yeah if he ever decides to show his face again after this. Trying to pin charges on Black does not justify the mess you made here today.”

“We made? Right,” Tank looked past Slade. “Are you listening to this, old man?”

Masamune just rolled his eyes.

“How about you stop trying to blame us for everything that goes screwy around here and try to be helpful for once. A lot real strange things happened on this train.”

Slade decided to look at the more tranquil Gavin for answers. “What does he mean by that?”

“Well, some of the passengers attacked us.”

“Attacked?”

“Yeah,” Gavin explained, sounding as he hadn’t convinced himself yet. “When we tried to apprehend Black some of the passengers turned against us.”

“That’s amazing,” another voice suddenly interrupted.

All heads turned to find a slight young woman standing next to Slade’s hover. She seemed to be bursting with excitement. “Did you say they turned against you once your suspect tried to get away?”

Gavin exchanged a questioning glance with Slade. “Yeah?”

“And this suspect of yours, this Mister …”

“Black,” Gavin helped out.

“This Mister Black did he appear to be cybernized?” she asked.

“I’d say.”

“What are you getting at?” asked Slade.

She took a dramatic breath. “Well I guess we would need to thoroughly analyze and interview the passengers but from what I’ve heard so far I think these people have been hacked.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Tank replied immediately. “It was at least ten or fifteen of them and besides Black didn’t even have a dataport. And who are you anyway?”

“Case. Bobbie Case,” she said with a wide smile and quickly pumped Tank’s remaining arm, only now realizing that the other one was missing. It didn’t seem to disturb her much. “I’m your new cybernetics expert and it’s a pleasure to meet you. All of you,” she said, her words pouring out of her mouth. She quickly moved around to shake everyone’s hand when she stumbled over something on the ground. “What’s this?” she asked as she picked up what looked like a long piece of metal. It was badly scorched and so heavy she needed both hands to lift it.

Tank’s eyes opened wider.

Case quickly recognized it. “I’d be damned. That’s a Poseidon X-550 Cy-Member. What’s that doing here?”

Tank easily snatched the large piece out of her hands. “That’s mine, thank you very much,” he said as he inspected it. The artificial skin had almost completely burned off and the metal was rupture in many places, baring the circuitry underneath. “Great, it’s ruined.”

“You know I can fit you with an X-600 if you like. It’s much more resilient,” she said.

“ Bobbie,” began Gavin, trying to regain her attention. “Do you think that somebody could hack into other people enhancers without the use of a dataport?”

The blonde woman shrugged her shoulders. “It’s theoretically possible. If his enhancers are powerful enough and he has the required skills – and I’m talking about crazy good skills here – then sure why not? He could override the firewalls and hijack somebody who is fitted with brain enhancers and low class firewalls. It probably would have to be very rudimentary commands if a lot of receivers were involved.”

“Dear God,” Gavin said. “If this is true this guy is a whole lot more dangerous than we ever thought.”

Slade turned to his boss who had remained suspiciously quiet. “What do you think, chief?”

Masamune looked at his team for a moment, apparently deep in though. Then he glanced over the debris. The fires had been put out which meant the hard work was only just about to begin. “I think that we might need some help on this one.”


_ _ _ _

Barely Human will return in January. Happy Holidays everyone!

 

[DavidFalkayn]

A curious mix of Star Trek and Cyberpunk. Besides building up a nice mystery, you're raising some serious questions. Very well done!

 

[BrotherBenny]

I was thinking, this is actually a really good story.

I was also thinking, if you replaced Starfleet and the few Star Trek elements that are present with an original universe police force, you'd have your very own original fiction that would be perfectly publishable as cyberpunk.

Think about it, man!

 

[Dulak]

Dixon Hill, eat your holographic heart out...

What I mean is.. It's interesting to see the genre's that on the surface don't seem compatible with Trek, then to see someone integrate them in a way that fits, like you have done here CeJay. I bet the attitude towards cybernetics has changed a bit since the Borg were encountered..and thinking of the Borg, wouldn't that be a great way for them to covertly infiltrate a section of the Federation, through modified, sleeper implants.. Don't know if sneaky is really in their makeup though..

 

[CeJay]

Thanks for the comments.

Xeris said:
I was thinking, this is actually a really good story.

I was also thinking, if you replaced Starfleet and the few Star Trek elements that are present with an original universe police force, you'd have your very own original fiction that would be perfectly publishable as cyberpunk.

Think about it, man!

I guess that's high praise. I actually thought about making this an original work all together for a short while. But then I thought, once you remove the Trek elements it won't really be all that original anymore ... I think it's the Trek mix that makes this worth pursuing.

_ _ _ _

006 – “Another Way of Life Awaits.”

“You have been brainwashed to believe that the Federation is the single greatest organization in the galaxy, that as one of its citizens you can express yourself more freely, be more productive and happier than any other creature in the known universe. What they have done is blind you to the fact that there is another way to live your life. Another way to find fulfillment then simply to look for ways to better yourself within a framework which by its very design is limiting the achievements of the individual. Of course they don’t want you know about those other ways. The powers that be want to keep you in your current state, they do not want you to ask questions or long for another existence. Those who hold the power in our society want to remain in power and want to keep you away from it. But more than anything else they want to continue to maintain the status quo and suppress your most basic, your most natural development.


You might not necessarily agree with what I have to say. You might even tell yourself that you are happy just the way you are. You are not hungry or thirsty, you don’t suffer from any incurable ailments, you are not physically oppressed by the authorities and you will sleep in a warm bed tonight. Yes, all that is true. But the true crime, the true injustice, is the one that that you might not even have realized yet. It is the world that has been pulled in front of your eyes to blind you from the truth.

The Federation is destroying humanity and our alien brothers along with it by imposing on us rules and laws which go against the very core of what it means to be human. It is taking away focus, drive, ambition and yes, true happiness. We humans and most other races have not always been like this. Read any historical text and you find that once we were a culturally rich and diverse people, shaped by many circumstances. We were poor, we were hungry and we fought with each other and we even settle our conflicts through wars. But we were also rich and fulfilled and made peace. In short our lives had purpose.

Many of our brothers decided to follow this dream by leaving Earth and the Federation. Some succeeded, many others failed. But we should not have to run away from who we truly are. We must return to our true ways. All of us. Let those who do not wish to embrace their humanity leave our home.”

Roaring applause echoed through the lecture hall.

Michael Gary Grayson had captured the minds and hearts of the one-hundred plus people sitting in the audience, winning them over like he had done countless times before with his winning charm and flawless oratory style.

The light levels rose and the handsome dark haired man of thirty-five smiled at his audience with utter confidence. People had always flocked to him and it wasn’t always just because of his message. His boyish good looks and sparkling brown eyes worked like magnets, often swaying even the most stubborn of skeptics.

“This is why I have founded the Grayson Institute. Here as well as at many other locations throughout the Federation you can learn about the future I propose. About a new way for humanity and the entire galaxy. You will be able to learn firsthand of how I envision a new order that will make us not only the most powerful empire in the known galaxy which no longer has to fear other races but also will make you the most fulfilled generation in the history of this planet. I will now take a few questions.”

A spotlight quickly picked up the first person.

“Will you be running for elected office in order to further your agenda?”

“No,” Grayson replied. “I have no plans to run for any kind of office. In fact I believe that entering political office makes individuals much more likely to be corrupted by the system. Instead we will change the system from the outside and force those in power to give in to our demands.”

“Mister Grayson,” a young woman began. “Some label you an anarchist with no interests beyond disrupting public order. How do you answer to those allegations?”

“An excellent question,” the speaker replied with a beaming smile and stepped away from his podium. “First of all, those who call me an anarchist have neither taken the interest nor the time to understand my vision. I am the exact opposite of an anarchist. I propose stringent laws to guide our society, more stringent even then those we suffer under now. The difference is that they are nothing like the laws the Council or the President would feel comfortable with. It’s easy to label me an anarchist if I disagree with your entire political construct. And that’s all it is. A weak and unstable construct, ready to be torn down.”

There were cheers again.

“What do you say to those voices that link you to organized crime, specifically in this city, and see you as the main producer and distributor of illegal substances?”

Grayson lost his composure for less than a second. Most in the audience never noticed. His smile hardly ever faltered at all. “You have to understand,” he began slowly, looking directly at the man who had posed the question, “that these people are afraid of me. Very afraid. I … we all are a great threat to their continued existence, serving an outdated system. It is no surprise then that they try to find a way, any way to get rid of me, even if that means to circulate rumors and lies.”

“Are you saying that you have nothing to do with the stims trade?” the insistent man asked.

A few mumbles rose from the crowd.

Grayson looked at his audience. “Some people have called me a thinker, a philosopher, a revolutionist even. But I am no criminal. Stims are illegal and I will not now nor ever condone their use.”

Before another question could be raised, Grayson quickly spoke again. “I think a short recess is in order. I have shared much with you today and I’m sure you will need some time to reflect on what you have heard.”

Grayson bowed before his audience which didn’t hesitate to give him a noisy standing ovation. Not everyone did. The dark-haired lecturer turned and walked off the stage.

<Find out who asked that last question and get him out of here. Those questions were supposed to be screened.>

His smile was gone. Somebody’s head would roll for this oversight.

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[TheLoneRedshirt]

I'm really liking this, CeJay. It's fresh and full of interesting sub-plots. You've got some good characters here too.

And this Grayson - what is his ultimate goal? Is there someone pulling his strings?

All good stuff - I'm looking forward to more!