ABC - Penance

I was clear of the last gates so I rode to the nearest intersection and pulled into a parking bay. Trucks rolled past me on the road, heading to the cross-roads and turning right towards the east. None turned left.

My phone was in my hands the moment I turned the engines off, kicking out the stand with my foot unconsciously and bracing my feet on the ground. The data packet from Charlie opened up and I felt a wave of despair.

The phone software was limited, but it was immediately obvious the file was heavily corrupted and would not open fully. I doubted it had been deliberate by the wounded AI yet it left me with little choice. As much as I hated to drag her further into my mess, I needed a talented Net Diver to try and unscramble this data.

I rang Georgia and explained to her what I had and what I needed from her. As I expected she agreed to make the attempt, in return for a modest fee. Once I was back in Spitfield, I promised to bring a fine meal and dessert to the apartment and spend an evening wining and dining her. I transmitted the corrupted data packet to her and closed my copy down.

“Any news from the Sentries?” I asked her.

“No they are still intact and detected no activity. That man Kamarov has been staying low too, with no matches found from the CCTV network” she told me.

“Okay, thanks Georgia” I concluded. “I’ll be in touch later on tonight to see how things are progressing”

“Okay” she responded simply and we ended the call.

I was sitting on my bike, planning my next course of action when I realised a lone Sentinel was watching me intently from the sidewalk. Its rifle was stowed on its back and the Shock Rod was sheathed at its waist, meaning it did not consider me a threat. Which was nice considering I was in my Police Auxiliary uniform, making me its superior officer.

“Identify” I called to the mechanical. It regarded me silently with is black lensed eyes then stepped closer, its rubber treaded feet heavy on the pavement. My hand instinctively reached for my service pistol, tucked under my left arm in a holster.

The Sentinel stopped moving and lifted the right arm, metal palm forward, in the universal gesture of ‘I’m friendly, please don’t shoot’. I took my hand out of my jacket, leaving the pistol undrawn. In response the mechanical lowered its own arm and we stood like that for a few heartbeats. My heartbeats I mean, I have no idea what Sentinels measure time in. Nanoseconds probably to ten decimal points.

“You shouldn’t be wandering the town by yourself” I said to the machine. “Armed mechanicals have to be accompanied by a human controller at all times”

This applied to autonomous mechanicals like the Sentinel that carried weapons, unlike an Auto-Cab or Truck. Most armed machines were Drones or Robots, under remote supervision by a Drone Jockey. Sentinels had their own Dumb AI onboard, running highly sophisticated protocols intended to stop them shooting innocent people. Even so, Police Auxiliary guidelines stipulated all Sentinels had to patrol in support of a human officer.

“Where’s your handler?” I insisted. I got off my bike and stepped closer to the mute machine. “Why won’t you answer me?”

All Sentinels have electronic voiceboxes and the software needed to make conversation with people. It isn’t sparkling conversation but it should be able to answer such basic questions.

“He can’t answer you, Inspector” a breathless Milovich called out, running up the sidewalk from the direction of the Post. He came to a stop next to me, laying a hand on the motionless Sentinel as he bent over to breathe in loudly. “He’s got a busted vocoder”

Milovich finished gasping and stood upright, looking at the mechanical with an aggrieved air.

“Where have you been, Unit Three?” he demanded. The machine lifted its right arm and pointed along the street, in the direction of the crossroads.

“What? You know Sergeant Lincoln told you to stay away from there. You’ll frighten the civilians”

“Does it go wandering about alone?” I asked the young Officer.

“Er, yeah” he admitted sheepishly. “Unit Three has been buggy since the raid. I wonder sometimes if the Diving attack on the Camp did something to his core processor”

Officer Milovich fussed about the Sentinel for a bit, checking out its stowed weapons and the arms and feet. I had a suspicion he was checking that it hadn’t been involved in any altercations with the locals.

Satisfied the machine was intact, he began to lead the mechanical away. Unit Three turned its box shaped head to watch me and I watched it in return, until an unrelated thought crossed my mind.

“Hey, Milovich!” I yelled, then caught up with the pair so I wasn’t shouting like a mad woman on the roadside. “Your commander, Sergeant Lincoln. Is he related to Commissioner Lincoln from Spitfield?”

“Uh-huh. I think that’s his Uncle on his father’s side or something. He doesn’t really talk about it much”

“Okay, thanks.” I let him go, leading his errant machine back to the Post garage where it belonged. More questions flowed in my head, already full of so many unanswered ones.

‘Him’ not ‘It’, Milovich had referred to Unit Three. I was prejudiced against mechanicals, I won’t deny it. I wonder if that made me a hypocrite when I denounced those who were against the Guard clones. Full of such contemplations, I went back to my bike and remounted it.

Those questions could wait. Right now I had the most important mission to undertake. I needed to find my missing partner.

With a whine of electrics I surged out into the midday traffic, heading for the motel.

=====

The Restful Kingdom, Unity Townsite

There was no sign of Ghost’s bike at the motel when I arrived. I parked my own machine then knocked impatiently on his motel room door. Nobody answered me and I kicked the plastic door in frustration. It rattled loudly from the blow and I contemplated busting it open to see if he was inside.

I stopped myself of course. If he had been inside he would have answered me, no matter how pissed off he was at my late night revels. I sighed and laid my head against the door, flattening my cap brim against my face.

“I’m coming for you, Ghost” I promised his room.

Then I pulled on my big girl pants, figuratively at least, and went to my own room. It was time to get ready for trouble, for I planned to make some for whomever had taken down my partner.

In my heart I knew he wasn’t dead. Someone like Ghost was hard to kill, but he had vulnerabilities. Tiny ones but they existed and if an enemy could exploit those they could disable and capture him.

He was unique and I reckoned he had been taken for just that reason. Ghost was the oldest Guard clone I had ever heard of, living proof of how durable and long-lived his clone body could be.

Whomever had him had made one big mistake though. They hadn’t taken out his partner, little old me. I was going to lay as much hurt on those fuckers as it took to get my boy back.

=====

Twenty minutes later and I was ready for action. I had my armour weave body suit on with the Ceramite additions over my chest, stomach and arms. The Machine Pistol was slung over my shoulder on its carry strap, along with a bandolier holding spare magazines and some other goodies in pouches.

I slipped my Smart Goggles on my face, synching them to the EMP hardened processor carried along my spine. My traitorous phone was connected to the earpiece and mike. As a final touch I sheathed a Police Auxiliary issue Shock Rod at my waist, bigger and packing a heftier charge than my own Stun Wand. It sat next to my service pistol, now loaded with AP rounds.

A final check in the mirror then I flung the door open, scaring the utter crap out of the housemaid as she was about to knock on my door. She took a step backwards, her cleaning rag held like a shield in front of herself.

“Sorry, Miss” I said, knowing I looked pretty terrifying to a civilian. “I’m just heading out, so you can clean my room now”

“Th-th-thanks, Sir” she stuttered nervously. I was getting used to being mis-gendered in this town, even if Punching Judy was snarling down in her dark place. It was time to hit the road and anyone else who got in my way.