Extensis Vitae: Empire of Dust Page 5

  “Ah, this fresh air feels great!” Ayane closed her eyes and looked up toward the sun. A stiff breeze blew a lock of hair across her face, and Marcus had to restrain himself from combing it back. After a moment, Ayane clutched her coat more tightly around her. “Let’s walk the yard, Marcus,” she said in a gruff voice, giving her best impression of a hardened criminal, before laughing. “I never thought I’d be doing hard time like all the horrible criminals in the holovids.”

  As they began walking, Marcus marveled that she could keep such a good attitude. His bad mood from dealing with Jones and the prison bureaucracy was evaporating already, just by virtue of being around her. “Yeah, it’s a messed-up world where you get thrown in prison just because someone decides you were born into the wrong family.”

  “I don’t think I was born into the wrong family. Look on the bright side: if I’d been born into a different family, we’d probably never have had the chance to meet each other.” She took his hand and pulled him along until they were walking briskly. The exoskeleton whined quietly in the still morning.

  “That’s true. I’m really glad we were able to meet.”

  They got to the end of the building and began following the fence line. Fortified guard towers built into the thick walls loomed overhead, the menacing barrels of autocannons nested under the towers.

  “I’m so sorry I can’t get you released back to the medical ward,” he said. “I’ve been trying everything.”

  “It’s not your fault. For what it’s worth, I’m glad to hear that Aunt Reiko and her men took out that son-of-a-bitch Overseer,” she said fiercely.

  Her eyes had gone hard, and Marcus imagined Ayane resembled Rin before she had been reskinned.

  “Do you think they will come to break me out of here?” she asked in a whisper.

  Marcus leaned in close. “I hope so, but if they don’t, I’m gonna get you out of here. I’ll find a way… I promise.”

  Ayane stopped walking and put her hand on his cheek. She gazed deeply into his eyes for a moment. “You’re so sweet, but I don’t want you to do anything foolish, Marcus. I’m not worth it for you to get in trouble and throw everything away.”

  “You’re worth it to me,” he said solemnly and leaned down to kiss her. She looked surprised but quickly responded. Her lips were cool from the chilly air, but soft. Marcus was aware that his actions were almost certainly being watched on at least one surveillance camera, but at that moment, he didn’t give a damn. For once, he let his desire to show Ayane how he felt about her overrule his fear. It felt great to not have to hide his feelings, for a change.

  ***

  To Marcus, Alistair Thorne resembled a king overseeing his subjects as he sat in his tailored tuxedo and watched the festivities. The aides that had set up the celebration evidently thought it a good idea to place him on a platform so he was literally above everybody else. Even the chair he sat on resembled a throne. The only things missing were a crown and a scepter. Hell, he even has his queen next to him, Marcus thought sourly.

  Gabriella Caravaggio, Thorne’s consort, sat next to him wearing a lacy red evening gown and a blank, slightly unhappy look on her face. She was slim and lovely, with delicate features including long black hair and tawny skin. She rarely made public appearances, but that night, she sat next to Thorne for his two-hundredth birthday gala. The chilly evening evidently didn’t bother her, so Marcus assumed she was a skin like most of those present.

  Marcus pulled his coat tighter around himself. Outside the perimeter of the massive space heaters, he could see his breath. The stars sparkled coldly behind wispy clouds. As he wandered through the crowd looking for a friendly face, he wondered why Gabriella always seemed unhappy on the handful of occasions he had seen her. She had everything a woman could want: beauty, wealth, power, and virtual immortality. Marcus thought she was like a beautiful songbird locked in a cage where it was so unhappy that it refused to sing and preen its colorful feathers.

  Applause broke out, and everyone looked to the stage. Thorne handed his glass of champagne to Gabriella and stood. He flashed a perfect smile and waved everyone to silence.

  “Good evening, my friends and fellow employees!” His crisp British accent carried easily over the large crowd. “Thank you for this wonderful celebration. Truly we are blessed to have the freedom to celebrate like this, untouched by the lawlessness and terrorism that afflict those beyond the borders of the New USA. Many of you remember how it was before the Cataclysm. Crime and violence threatened to tear our society apart while the crushing overpopulation starved our planet of food, fresh water, and mineral resources. Even our planet was warming inexorably despite our cutting-edge technology working to ease the burden on the environment.”

  Marcus remembered little from before the Cataclysm. He had been a small child who had grown up in the Thorne compound, but his education had provided him with quite a bit of knowledge about the state of civilization, and it had been grim. He found himself fixated on Thorne’s words.

  “I may have seen two hundred years of life,” the CEO continued, “but the previous hundred and eighty pale in comparison to the last twenty. I know that many see the Cataclysm as truly that—a brush with Armageddon, a tragedy of untold proportions. But I like to focus on the silver lining. I’ve seen mankind rebounding and flourishing over the last twenty years! I see hard work and ingenuity everywhere I look, and I know deep in my heart that this is just the start—this great nation will shine once again like a bright beacon in the night! Here’s to another two hundred years—may we all be fortunate to live so long and celebrate together each and every one of those years while violence and criminal brutality are kept at bay at the fringes of our society, like savages looking in the window, envious of how good our lives are!” Thorne toasted the crowd, and everyone cheered.

  Marcus found himself applauding with them in spite of himself. The man truly had charisma.

  “Enjoy the evening, everybody. Cheers!”

  The jazz band began playing again, and conversation resumed.

  Bottoms up. He drained his champagne flute and searched for something more satisfying than the dry alcohol. At the bar, he ordered a glass of whiskey. The sharp liquor warmed his belly as he sought a place away from the crowd.

  Thorne made some interesting points. The New USA is prospering, that’s true, but at what cost? A totalitarian police state of persistent surveillance over its people. A brutal war fought on the fringes of civilized society against Shiru, the wasteland rebels, and any other enemies that stand in TI’s way. A campaign where a whole town of civilians is wiped out over fears of being infected by an alien organism. A society where innocent young women are taken prisoner and held as political pawns. Marcus’s thoughts turned dark as he thought about the propaganda speech and the crowd’s delighted reactions. Are these people really that naive about what is going on? Or is it simply apathy?

  Marcus felt claustrophobia setting in. He looked around for a place to get out of the crowd and finish his drink. He saw Ram and Brent talking with some of their coworkers. Naya spotted him from the group and waved. Not being in the mood to engage with the others, Marcus waved politely and walked off as if he had somewhere better to be.

  Taking the staircase of the applied sciences building, Marcus climbed to the walkway above, which afforded a nice view of the courtyard and party below. Saxophone notes drifted up to Marcus as he leaned against the wall and sipped his drink. Although it was cold away from the party’s space heaters, being alone with his thoughts was nice. He was also without his bodyguards—Beefy and Taciturn weren’t shadowing him since he was on the Thorne campus.

  Bethany was curiously absent. She was on assignment, according to one of the other executives Marcus had run into and queried. He wasn’t sure what exactly that meant, but “carrying out some of the company’s dirty work” was his best guess. He almost wished she was there, if for no other reason than to have a familiar face to talk to. He raised his glass to his lips but then
noticed it was empty already.

  “Director, mind if I join you?”

  Marcus started and turned to see Captain Mills approaching, a nearly full bottle of Snakebite in hand.

  “You look like you could use a refill.”

  “Well, since you come bearing gifts, of course you’re welcome to join me.” Marcus smiled despite his dark mood, his breath puffing in the cold air of the night. “Not a moment too soon, either.” At that moment, fireworks flared and sparkled out over Chesapeake Bay.

  Mills leaned on his elbows against the wall and offered Marcus the bottle. Marcus took a long swig of the whiskey, enjoying the warmth it brought to his stomach. “That’s quite the production,” Mills remarked. He watched the elaborate pageantry down below. “Can’t say I’m real big on the celebratory overkill. Just give me a bottle of booze to warm my belly and a nice, quiet spot to relax and enjoy the evening. Maybe a friendly girl on my arm, and that’s all I need.”

  “Yeah, that sounds awfully good right about now,” Marcus replied, his thoughts going to Ayane, as he found them doing more and more those days. “Have you got a girl?”

  Mills nodded. “I do. In fact, next week will be my last on duty. I dropped my retirement papers and just need some time to transition to the next poor bastard that gets this assignment.” He took a long pull on the bottle and handed it back to Marcus. “I’m just tired of all this.” He gestured vaguely at the party below. “I figure thirty-five years on the force is enough. Physically, I could keep going, but mentally I’m burned out. Things have changed so much since I joined up… it’s not like it used to be.” Mills sighed and watched the party for a moment before continuing. “I’d like to spend the rest of my days with my lady. We’ve got a little place up the coast in the Cape Cod reclamation zone that has shaped up to be pretty nice. I can fish and boat and do whatever I like from here on out.”

  Mills still looked as though he was in his prime, but Marcus knew that was because he was a skin. The captain was probably pushing seventy. The thought of being able to retire in his prime and have time to just enjoy life sounded pretty appealing.

  “Sounds nice. I kind of wish I could get out while things are still good. Find a nice little spot like you did and spend some time with my girl—”

  “Oh, you’ve got a girl?”

  “Yeah. Well, I mean not exactly, but there’s this girl I really like.”

  Mills smiled at him knowingly. “Oh yeah? It wouldn’t be that pretty little thing that Bethany put you in charge of overseeing, would it?”

  Marcus was about to deny it, but the alcohol in his system overruled him. “Is it that obvious?”

  “Oh, not really. She was always talking about you too, so I thought you two might be good together.”

  “Huh. I wish the situation was different. I’ve only seen her twice now since they put her back in the detention facility. I really appreciate you expediting my request. It’s such a pain in the ass to get approval to see her, even with my position. I think the warden gets off on being an asshole about it.” He shook his head and took another sip of the liquor. “But anyway, she’s a prisoner. It’s not like that would ever work out.”

  Mills shrugged. “You never know. Everything ends eventually—even Alistair Thorne’s iron-clad grip on the world.” He took another swig when Marcus passed the bottle back and then returned it right away. “Keep it, I’m heading out. Don’t know if we’ll get the chance to talk like this again, but I just wanted to say it’s been an honor working with you. Your father would have been proud of you.”

  Marcus straightened up and turned to face Mills. “You knew my father?” he asked in surprise. Everybody he had ever come across who had known his father had called him a criminal and traitor to the corporation. Marcus had suspected that was the official line the corporation put out since the alleged crimes he had committed didn’t jive with Marcus’s memories of a family man. He had eventually stopped asking about his father and had distanced himself from the memory of him as much as he could.

  “I sure did,” Mills replied. “He was a hell of a CorpSec officer, and it was an honor working under him. Even more importantly, he was a good man.” He must have seen the pain on Marcus’s face, for he continued in a lowered voice. “All that bullshit you hear about him turning traitor is just that—bullshit. Don’t believe it. Your old man was set up and fucked over by the corporation. I just know he always tried to do the right thing by his personal code of conduct and by his family. A man can’t do much more than that. Don’t let it get you down, Marcus. You’re a good man, just like him. Just keep in mind that doing the right thing might not always be in the best interests of the corporation. If you find yourself at such a fork in the road, you have to ask yourself which path will be the one you can live with the easiest. Take care of yourself.” Mills slapped him heartily on the back and walked off into the night, leaving Marcus alone with his head full of thoughts and a half-empty bottle of booze.

  Chapter 7

  Rin knelt at a low table across from her brother. A servant appeared and poured green tea for the two of them. She studied her brother’s stoic face, wondering what he was thinking.

  Seijin took a sip of tea and regarded her over the lip of his cup. “My people informed me that an attempt was made on your life at the mall. I take it you are well?”

  “Well enough, I suppose. It made me realize that I’ve been idle too long—I think I’m ready to resume my duties as wakagashira if you’ll have me back.”

  Seijin regarded her for a moment before his face relaxed into a smile. “Of course, sister. There is just one matter to take care of first. May I see your token?”

  I was afraid of this. He wants to ensure absolute loyalty from me. He was angered by my weakness and need for a sabbatical. Giving me new directives is his right as oyabun, though.

  Rin pulled the slim token from an inner pocket and placed it in the palm of her brother’s hand. His palm was surprisingly soft, unmarred by the scars and callouses of a life of combat, as Rin’s were.

  His hands are soft because he has others doing his fighting. He doesn’t know what it’s like being at the tip of the sword, she thought with a moment’s bitterness, having those you care about slain beside you. He doesn’t have to dirty his hands—perhaps just with ink stains rubbing off reports and financial statements. She knew her thoughts weren’t totally fair, since the clan chief had many responsibilities that prevented him from personally fighting his own battles, but the bitterness remained.

  Seijin turned the token over in his hand. “Such power contained in this small device,” he said thoughtfully. “It has the power to conform another to one’s will or the power to set them free. Reiko, you’ve suffered enough, my sister. I choose freedom for you.”

  He got up and came around behind Rin, smoothly snapping the token into place at the base of her skull. Her HUD popped up with the command shell, and a laser display projected from her eye onto the rice-paper wall. She watched in surprise as her brother maneuvered through the menus, confidently removing all restrictions on her actions. Since Rin had been assigned to Seijin upon being reskinned, his directives overruled any others, and once his were deleted, she was free.

  Freedom. What will I do with myself now?

  Seijin removed the token, and Rin’s HUD disappeared. Her brother looked at the token in his hand for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. She gasped involuntarily as he swiftly crushed the token in his hand, the plastic and microchips crackling loudly in the quiet room.

  “Do I surprise you? You thought I’d compel you to obedience once again?”

  Rin nodded. “I deserve no better,” she admitted. “It was my weakness that allowed your daughter to be captured and Ryu to be killed.” She lowered her head in shame.

  Seijin knelt beside her and gently raised her chin with his hand, looking her in the eye. “That may be true, but you regained Clan Takahashi’s honor by crushing the cowardly Overseer of Skin City and forging new alliances. You
have suffered as much as any of us, yet you keep fighting with great courage and valor. I trust you will do the right thing without compulsion.” He smiled at her, the smile lines out of place on his stern face. “Just remember what I’ve done, and act accordingly.” He walked over to the small fire in the hearth and dropped the broken pieces of plastic and silicon into the flames.

  Rin watched as the last fetters that could physically bind her bubbled and popped in the fire. Now, only duty bound her to her fate. She suddenly felt afraid—both of letting her brother down and of dishonoring the memories of those who had fallen.

  ***

  “Sister, I understand you haven’t gotten that problem with your skin’s backup system fixed yet,” Seijin said. He and Rin were in his office a few days after she had been reinstated as lieutenant. “I’d like you to report to biotech and see if they can get you restored.”

  “With your permission, I’d like to pass on that.” Rin sipped her cup of tea and studied a mural on the wall—an epic samurai battle in Edo-era Japan. She wondered if society had been better run by a shogunate, with noble samurai keeping the peace. Her clan could trace its lineage back five hundred years to that time period. Two hundred fifty years of stability… They must have been doing something right.

  Seijin looked at her over his tea, eyebrows raised. Rin noted the wrinkles formed on his forehead.

  We’re getting old, aren’t we brother?

  “Might I ask why? Those savages not only kidnapped and abused you, they also hacked your skin’s encrypted system and disabled your backup. There’s nothing dishonorable about getting it restored.”

  Rin shrugged. “I’ve lived a long, full life—just as you have, brother. What meaning is there to living without the fear of death? If my life can’t end, it seems to lose its luster—much like looking at the world through a gray filter. It is as if I am just going through the motions after a while. Surely the samurai of old would be shocked and horrified at the thought that the greatest sacrifice of one’s own life could lose all meaning.”