The Brutus Code

He awoke. It was still early. Stand. Walk to the bathroom. He fumbled around in the dark to relieve his bladder. He splashed water on his face to refresh himself. Then turned on the light.

David’s face smiled back for just a moment. Then it registered with him. David looked at his naked head full of cybernetic protrusions and a hideous tattoo below his left ear. The hazmat symbol made of sickles glistened with biomechanical circuitry and water beading down his face. It was his face, and he controlled it. David leaned back grabbing the edge of the counter and started to fling his face at the mirror.

That was close. He had dipped his attention into the cyber world to review data and send instructions, a breakdown here, a bit of lost data strands there. He had so much controlled chaos to manage. All of it served the Function. He lost control of the body.

David’s body stiffly walked back to bed and lay down. The eyes remained open and blank, staring at nothing external, but everything internal.

Tears rolled down his face.

They’d been in port a week, and Tommy was still in jail. The Swift had been impounded, and the MOM was to be decommissioned. Tommy paced his cell. The twelve by five space left little room to stretch, but the confined space suited his mood. Tommy felt trapped, not by the cell walls, but by his circumstances. He had a responsibility to the patients on the MOM to get them to a system where they could recover and the MOM could be repaired. It had taken a week to do that with the MOM in tow behind the Swift.

Agnes continued her regimen of treatment, and Tommy, under the ministrations of his mother’s Ai, contributed his DNA to the effort. Repairs had continued on the MOM en route, all for naught. Upon arriving in the Nu2 Lupi system, where the edge of the Frontier meets the Fringe, the standing order to apprehend them had been waiting for him. At least the Nu2 Lupi system security hadn’t shot them out of the sky.

Tommy still wasn’t sure whether that was because they were towing the MOM or that the sheriff in this system seemed to have her head screwed on the right way. Maybe it was both. It still meant that the trail to finding his mother was growing cold. Tommy hadn’t given up, but there was nothing he could do in this cell. He was cut off from Alfred, who was impounded with the ship. He had no access to the nets in the system to follow the leads he did have, those damned tattoos.

Tommy sat down on his bunk and propped his feet up. He knew that he’d be pacing again soon, but this would break up the monotony of his thoughts. He was about to start pacing again when Sheriff Weltha Jane Johnson entered the detention block.

“Thomas Judson,” she stated. There wasn’t much question as to who he was. Tommy was the only detainee in the facility. It only took two days for the pirates to be moved to military detention and extradited out of the system. He stood to meet her. She strode to the edge of his cell. Weltha was a not a beautiful girl. She was a handsome woman. Standing about five six, she wore her shoulder length curly hair back in an easily maintained ponytail. Although she did not appear muscular, she did look like she stayed in shape from the way her station’s coveralls fit her. Her square face held dark brown almond shaped eyes with a distinct epicanthic fold common in people of Asian descent. She looked younger than her thirty-two years. Weltha carried herself with confidence. Tommy recognized another soldier when he first met her.

They shared several one sided conversations about their military service. Not one sided because Tommy was being rude. He was, as usual, conservative in his conversation. There wasn’t mush else to do while they waited for communiqués to reach the core systems and for the Postal Service to respond. Tommy just wasn’t sure what to expect.

He found the sheriff to be a congenial companion. They shared their stories about the last major battle of the Wars. Tommy had been air support to her squad on the ground. For this, and many reasons, he felt he was in no personal danger. He just wished he could continue the pursuit of his mother.

“Tommy,” Weltha rephrased to the less formal address. “You’re being released to the station.” She unlocked the door to Tommy’s cell.

“The PS response came in?” he asked.

“No, not yet. It may be awhile before we get any response. The network is a mess and it may take quite a while to untangle. No, upon an independent inquiry, the evidence is not sufficient to hold you in this cell.” She winked at Tommy.

“Independent inquiry?” Tommy looked at her quizzically.

“Yup. I’ve been looking over all the data recordings and evidence that your Nav Ai had as well as independent interviews with staff, patients, and a few of your pirates. This detention order from the central systems stinks of bureaucratic bull. There’s nothing to support it,” she announced with satisfaction.

“Thanks,” said Tommy.

But as Tommy stepped out of his cell, she stopped him. “Sorry, Tommy. You’re free under my authority, but I do need to restrict you to the station. You cannot return to your ship.” She knelt down and put a ring on his ankle. “I need you to wear this tracking anklet until we can clear up this mess with bigger pay scales than mine.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said again with resignation. “I understand the risk you’re taking. I appreciate it.”

“I’ve made arrangements for you to bunk at our hotel. It isn’t fancy, but the PS is getting the bill,” again there was a twinkle of mischief in her eyes as she shared this. “The regulations state that a PS courier cannot carry passengers, but as you are aware, they can carry family as companions on their routes. Your ‘aunt’ Agnes requested to stay on your ship for now?” she said.

“Long story,” was Tommy’s response. “She really is my aunt.”

“Yes, well. There were also some personal items that your ‘aunt’ requested moved from the MOM to your ship. I understand they are some of your mother’s belongings.” Weltha continued, sensing Tommy’s anxiety about finding his mother, “I’ve sent out word to the regional marshals and the governor’s office. They both needed to be informed about piracy in the Frontier. If I hear anything at all, I’ll let you know.”

“That’s good.”

“Tommy, we’ll get it straightened out.” Weltha tried to be positive.

Tommy was positive when he said, “Yes, I will.” And he left the sheriff’s office.

Back aboard the Swift, Agnes supervised the transfer of Christine’s casket from the MOM and made sure that Annie’s personal media player was included. Where most media units acted only as a storage device and needed an interface unit to access the data stored in it, Alfred and Annie’s unit looked and acted like a media player with access to data. This was Arnold Judson’s design for disguising the true nature and capacity of the units.

It took some sneaking around the station deputies to do it, but Agnes had managed to transfer several of the decommissioned humanoid avatars over as well. She reasoned that they used Dr. Judson’s image to tend to patients. So, they had to have been very personal to Annie and should be included with her personal belongings. She also included several of the MOM’s holo-projectors. The ship was the oldest in the MOM fleet and since it was being decommissioned and replaced, they didn’t need them as much as the Dr. Judson’s Ai did on the Swift.

Agnes was in Tommy’s workshop working on an interface for Annie’s media player. The little devices stored a deceptive amount of data. Besides her Ai seemed to run much more smoothly, you might even say naturally, with it installed in the system of the MOM. Agnes salvaged as many parts as she could from that interface. She still seemed to be missing some pieces.

“May I help?” She jumped when Alfred’s voice came from the speaker on the workbench. “I didn’t mean to startle you, Agnes,” he said.

“No, I was so focused on this interface… You just surprised me, that’s all. I don’t have a lot of personal memories, but I do know my way around these designs.” She stooped down to pick up the micro welder she had dropped on the floor.

“I do apologize. Tommy is much the same way. Unless I surprise him he might go on with a project and not eat or sleep,” Alfred Ingram explained. “Again, may I be of any help?”

“I don’t know. I’ve hit a dead end. I don’t have the parts I need, and I don’t have time to print them.” She confessed, “It’s making me mad.” She threw down the same tool she had just picked up., Agnes crossed her arms let out a frustrated growl and hugged herself.

“If I were a human, I would console you with a pat or a hug as appropriate,” Alfred spoke formally trying not to offend. He had little interaction with female humans. His model for human interaction had primarily been Tommy. Somewhere in his code, he understood that Tommy was a sullen and quiet example of humanity.

“Alfred, I’m glad you’re here just as you are,” Agnes said as tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away and one of Alfred’s smaller spider avatars crawled across the workbench and extended a leg to touch her hand. “Sorry, sometimes my emotions act up. It’s frustrating to know so much about engineering, design, science, and still not ‘KNOW’ anything really about ME.” Agnes squeezed the spider’s arm like it was Alfred’s hand, gaining some comfort from the contact of another intellect. “I’ve got information, my full name, I had… I have a sister. You’ll eventually find all kinds of facts about my life. And that will be great. But I won’t have them as memories. My own memories.” She stared off at a wall, but her thoughts were searching further than the bulkhead in front of her. “Well, back to work,” she sighed several minutes later. “I’m generating a list of parts I will need to complete integrating the Dr. Judson Ai into your systems.”

“Not my systems,” Alfred corrected. “I am separate from the Swift. I interface with its systems and it functions as a body for me, but I was not this ship’s original Navigational Ai.”

“That’s right, thanks Alfred. The parts will let me fully integrate the doctor into the ship’s systems, and then she can complete work on an antivirus for Christine.”

“Many of these are available on the station. Agnes, I can make inquiries as to availability,” Alfred offered.

“Please do. I’ll pick them up myself.” She began listing the parts on her tablet. “I want to inspect any parts I use. Quality control is important.” She completed the list and hit send. Then she glanced at Annie’s media player. She picking it up and turning it over in her hands examined it admiringly. “I wish I knew more about how this works,” she mused. “I understand the interface, but the functioning is something I’d really like to understand better. Can’t do that right now without taking these apart, and I don’t want to do that. I might lose her.”

“I’m sure she appreciates your care in the matter of her continued functioning,” Alfred chuckled. “Have you had much chance to examine the caskets, both your own and Christine’s? If you designed the second, it stands to reason that you did the first. There may be some clues there,” Alfred suggested.

“Yeah, we’ll take a look,” Agnes hopped off her work stool, “as soon as we check on Tommy and get this shopping done.” She strode out the hatch followed by Alfred’s avatar.

Despite himself, Tommy was enjoying being out of that cell. As Weltha escorted him down one of the main walkways on New Paris station, he noted the Frontier design. Unlike on the Fringe where building was fast and cheap, here they had built an orbiting complex meant to last. They walked down one of several large drums that rotated around a common central axis in opposing directions. The rotation not only provided the effect of gravity, they balanced the rotational forces along the kilometers of spine that connected the complex. The design accounted for safety as well as industry. Each drum could be adjusted for atmosphere and rotation to allow various gravities that might affect crystal growth or manufacturing considerations. The docks were built parallel to the drum and had access to all the drums through the access corridors. Unlike Make-Haste station, this Frontier station was a well planned mid size city.

Weltha and Tommy had walked through two of the drums and were coming to the end of the tour. “Thanks for letting me brag about our system. I had to get out of that office. I am sorry about the anklet. It’s just a precaution. We’ve all got our little battles, and I can’t give any ammo to my opposition in system,” Weltha explained.

Tommy had ended up liking this sheriff. They both realized they were kindred spirits caught in a bureaucratic vice. “It’s okay. Glad for the company,” Tommy responded politely. They walked on in silence for a few minutes through this part of the last drum closest to the manufacturing district and dock areas. Weltha had explained where Tommy was allowed to go and where he had to avoid. Although close to his ship, he could not venture to the docks. They also had their largest market and shopping district in this drum. His freedom extended to the parkland and habitat drums on the other end of the spine, near city hall.

As they approached the hotel, Weltha turned to Tommy to shake his hand and wish him well. “Well, rest up. I’m sure we’ll have this all cleared up in a few days,” she said loudly. And in almost a whisper she added, “You see them don’t you?”

“Yup.” Tommy responded loudly with a smile. And just as quietly, “Two behind, three waiting at the side.”

“Smile big, go on in. I’ll circle back and recon.” Weltha instructed him, “Stay put in your room till I contact you.” Tommy nodded and walked into the hotel to register. Weltha returned the way they had come. As soon as she was sure they weren’t following her through to the next drum, she circled back through access tunnels along the walls of the drum. She climbed up to a skywalk that paralleled the hotel street. There, she took out a small scope and used it to track the five tails’ movements. They had stationed themselves around the hotel, covering all the apparent access points. Weltha watched for several minutes, confirming some of her suspicions. She took a ladder higher into the support struts of the drum, keeping an eye on her suspects. Once clear of them, she worked her way down to the level beneath the hotel and came up through a cargo hatch in the kitchen.

“Hey, Sally,” she greeted the hotel owner who prided herself on being the best chef on the station as well. “Can we send some scrambled eggs, fake’n bacon, and hash browns, up to my guest?”

Sally who was no stranger to greeting the sheriff coming and going through odd places at odd times simply replied nonplused, “No problem.” And she got to work. It gave her a safe feeling, knowing Weltha would do the grunt work to keep the station safe.

Weltha knocked on Tommy’s door and quietly identified herself. She gave him the ‘shush’ sign with her finger to her mouth as he closed the door. She held out a small jamming device and activated it. “That will be better,” she said. “This has come in handy a lot.”

“What gives,” Tommy asked, and Weltha filled him in on her recon. She sent a text back to her office, requesting deputies for back up. It didn’t take the deputies long to signal they were in position. Two of the tails had already headed into the hotel and tracked down Tommy’s room. There was a knock at the door. Tommy moved to answer while Weltha covered him with her gun. He touched the hatch release and Sally stood there with a tray of food.

“What???” she got out as Tommy pulled her into the room.

“Thanks, Sally. Just put the tray down and sit tight for two minutes.” Sally started to sit on the bed in the cabin. “Maybe you should take a spot in the toilet, Sally. Safer,” Weltha answered to Sally’s questioning look.

Enough time passed for all three to get anxious. Another knock finally sounded on the door and the announcement, “Room service.” Tommy positioned himself next to the hatch with Weltha off to the other side, weapon raised and ready. Tommy punched the hatch open button. Reaper Pirates, they both had the tattoo on their necks and arms, a reaper with identical scythes. The first one fired a dart weapon as soon as the hatch opened. Tommy grabbed this pirate’s outstretched arms, spun him around disarming him and put him in a headlock. From there, he applied pressure points to the back of his skull rendering him unconscious.

Weltha was more direct with the second pirate. She fired her goo gun and hit the pirate in her face. She dropped before her dart gun was halfway to firing position. Weltha dragged her into the cabin, checked the hall and shut the hatch. “Now,” she spoke aloud knowing that the pickups in her earbud would broadcast her order to the rest of her team.

“Are your deputies as good as you?” Tommy asked.

Before Weltha could reply, Sally proudly stated, “Darn toot’n. Weltha drills them to distraction. So we’ve the safest system around. Ask anybody.”

“Thanks, Sally,” Weltha didn’t blush. She took it as it was meant, just the facts.

“I’ll see you folks later. I’ve got a hotel to run.” Sally walked out of the cabin, but not before checking both ways down the corridor.

“Good, I’ll meet you there. We need a couple of stretchers up here,” Weltha responded to her earbud. Her team gathered up all five of the attackers. The three on the street had put up resistance, so the deputies had plenty of ‘assaulting an officer’ charges. These other two could be charged with that and attempted murder. As they carried them out, Weltha made to leave also, when she stopped and turned to Tommy. “I doubt these are all of them. I’ve only got that anklet to keep tabs on you. Watch your back.”

“I will,” Tommy nodded and locked the hatch once she left.

Not too much later when Tommy was stepping out of a shower. The admit buzzer sounded from the cabin hatch. He came into the cabin dripping and wiping himself down with a towel. Tommy activated the hatch security monitor and on the screen appeared Agnes. “Tommy, open up. It’s us.” That’s when Tommy noticed she had a shoulder bag hanging across her and the legs of a spider avatar hung out. He wrapped the towel around his waist and activated the hatch to let them in.

“Hey, nicer than that cell, that’s for sure,” commented Agnes as she pounced down on the bunk. “We brought you some stuff, change of clothes, razor, toothpaste. You know stuff we thought you’d need. And this.” She handed Tommy his media player and two earbuds.

“Thanks.” Tommy accepted the player and put one small earbud com unit in his ear. “Hello, Alfred.” The other earbud he handed back to Agnes. “This is for you. You may need Alfred. And you are family, Aunt Agnes.”

“OK that’s weird. The name, not the earbud.” She immediately put the earbud in her ear. “This could come in handy.” She leaned back against the wall of the cabin as Tommy took his change of clothes back into the shower unit and dressed. “So, we heard you had some excitement with the lady sheriff?” Agnes said loud enough for Tommy to hear in the next room. He also noted the teasing tone in her voice. She may be his aunt, but she was acting like a little sister.

“How’d you hear?”

“Oh, you know. Even large stations like this have their gossip mill. You’ve just got to know where to put your ear to hear the good stuff,” Agnes said smugly.

“Alfred, monitoring the station networks! Illegal,” Tommy warned. “Agnes, you haven’t left the Swift all week.”

“I admit it. I wasn’t sure about this big a station. I don’t remember anyplace except the Swift and the MOM. Right now the Swift is the only home I can remember,” she answered.

“Agnes, we made it here just fine, and I was with you the entire way.” Alfred comforted her. “I am also tapped into the stations net, scanning for any more interlopers. I suggest that we complete our shopping trip expediently for all our safety.”

“Need to get off this station, too,” Tommy added. “Both use caution. There will be more attempts,” Tommy warned. Checking a station directory, they made their plans for the shopping trip. Tommy had access to his personal accounts and since many of the purchases were for the ship, he was sure the Postal Service would reimburse them.

They made short work of the parts, some additional tools that Agnes needed and made arrangements to have them delivered to the ship. They strolled leisurely through what passed for a crowed open-air market in the middle of the shopping district on the station. Fresh produce was on display at various vender stalls as well as other home crafted items. A true sense of community poured from the people they passed.

“Tommy,” someone shouted through the crowd. They turned to see Weltha manning a stall of her own. Her booth displayed a variety of potatoes and other tubers. When they joined her she said, “You look surprised. I have a farm on a moon. That direction,” she pointed up through one of the three great windows on the opposite side of the drum. Each drum had three great windows that ran along the floors. They let in light and helped with the psychology of living in a can.

“Everybody is a bit of a jack-of-all-trades on the Frontier. No one has just one skill.” She gave Tommy a warm smile as he introduced Agnes. As a safety measure they did not mention Alfred. “I’m a bit surprised to see you out, though” Weltha said in a more conspiratorial manner. Agnes explained their need for equipment and supplies without giving too many details.

“May I join you?” Weltha suggested. “I can be your guide through the market as well as add a layer of protection.” Although not in her sheriff’s uniform, she patted her pocket showing that she carried a small side arm if the need arose. With that reassurance, the three walked on through the market. Agnes sampled several booths with fresh fruits and vegetables. With Weltha’s guidance, she made some reasonable purchases at fair bargains.

Agnes enjoyed her time out and the chance to meet people. Tommy suspected that she had a very sociable personality. He further suspected that most of the old Agnes would surface in her personality. He wanted to know Agnes’ history almost as much as she did. This whole adventure started with her. There may be answers in her history.

Alfred interrupted his musings, “Tommy, there may be a chance to do some research on those tattoos. There is a tattoo parlor two intersections and three blocks to your nine o’clock.” Tommy made an excuse and parted with Agnes and Weltha, promising to return quickly. He noted that he passed two deputies he had met at the hotel on his way.

He easily tracked down the tattoo parlor. Having left the market area with its stalls, Tommy entered an area of the commerce drum that housed an art colony. Several media shops with window displays of both still and moving media hugged the street. He passed two authentic art galleries with actual paint on canvas. One even had an artist sitting in the walk, sketching passersby.

The tattoo parlor touted signage claiming the best body art in the system. Tommy entered a dimly lit interior with holo-posters and samples of designs. Pools of light illuminated several deserted stations along the back wall. The sole inhabitant sat at a counter, flipping through pages of tattoo art on his tablet. He perked up when a possible canvas walked through the door. “Well, hello there sweetie. What can we do for you today?”

“Interested in a tattoo design,” Tommy said, advancing deeper into the darkness.

“Well, of course. Did you have something in mind?” said Tattoo Man, his short rotund form now moving from behind the counter. He was dressed from neck to toes in a blue plastic smock and leggings. The long sleeves covered any artwork he may have had, but spikes and swirls of various colors slipped above the tight collar on his neck. His droopy eyes darted around taking Tommy in from under heavy eyelids. Tommy’s reflection shown in his glassy pupils.

Tommy held up his media player and showed examples of the Grim Reaper tattoos they’d seen on the pirates and the pirate ships. “What can you tell me about this design?”

“Oh dear me,” Tattoo Man spoke lethargically in a tenor voice as he glanced at the pictures and then at Tommy and finally back at the pictures. “You’ve really picked a classic. You can see that the artist never quite did the same thing twice.”

“Tell me something new,” Tommy suggested. He wasn’t trying to be threatening, but if it worked on this guy, then that was good with Tommy.

“Well, let’s see. Of course you know that the Grim Reaper is the symbol of death, a very common tat for years among those who lived on the fringe of society. When tattoos became mainstream again, it became very popular for the military to use them during the Wars.”

“Not in my military,” Tommy stated.

“Sorry, it was more out here in the Fringe I suspect. The artist seems very precise with the dimensions. They are all to scale relative to the sickle.”

“That’s a scythe,” Tommy corrected.

“Really, not sure what the diff is, but if you say so. Well, the scythe is the weapon of the Grim Reaper, as a symbol of harvesting souls to the afterlife, right.”

“Still old news.” Tommy warned.

“Yeah, right. Things that aren’t obvious. Well, look at the way the different reapers line up with the scythe. See, they are very precise. These are all done by the same artist. I’d say it was a template, except the reapers are all different.” He mused on, “This is good ink. This guy can work in my shop any time. Do you know who it is?”

“No,” Tommy looked at the Tattoo Man, disappointed. “Dead end.”

“Maybe not. Look through this database. You might be able to track down the artist.”

“Tommy,” Alfred signaled in his earbud, “this was an easy hack. I’ve got the data base and there is nothing here.”

“Sorry to have bothered you,” Tommy said shaking his head. He turned to go when Tattoo Man stopped him.

“Wait, don’t sell that sickle short. You might like one for yourself. Let me show you.” He tapped a few keystrokes into his tablet and brought up a design for a sickle behind a hand and hammer. It had some kind of ancient historical meaning. “OK not into history, how about this one?” This time Tommy stopped. This design still had the sickle. It had six. They had been arranged so that each pair of blades formed an almost complete circle. The three circles were a pyramid or triangle and the handles overlapped to form a fourth inner circle. It was unmistakable. It was the HAZMAT design. This one had one more haunting image. From behind the HAZMAT symbol peered the hooded face of the Grim Reaper.

“Nope, sorry. Not interested,” and Tommy left the shop.

Tattoo Man’s demeanor changed as Tommy exited. His eyes cleared and opened wider. He smiled with harmful intent. On his front tooth gleamed a grill in the shape of the sickle design he had just shown Tommy. Tattoo man spoke aloud, “Brutus here. He’s on the street, heading your way. Don’t fail.” Then he blinked out. He hadn’t been there at all.

Back in the market, Weltha and Agnes were sampling peaches. Grown under low gravity, they were about the size of a watermelon on Earth. Agnes swiped the cash card that Tommy had given her to access his account. “I should say I’ve never tasted anything like them, but somehow they are familiar,” Agnes shared with Weltha.

“I’ve read the reports Tommy filed with the Postal Service as part of my investigation. If food is helping stimulate your memories, you should come by for a home cooked meal. I know my daughter would love to meet you. She has a mischievous streak, but she is very curious about people. She really blossomed when we moved from the moon to the station. There are more people and more traffic. On the moon, she rarely saw anyone but me.”

“I guess that all depends on how soon Tommy gets word from the Central Systems Postal Service. We’ve got to find his mother,” Agnes replied.

“Shouldn’t that be left up to the proper authorities, like the system sheriff or the regional marshals? They’ve both been informed.”

“No offense, but aren’t your resources stretched kind of thin anyway. I mean, you’ve got a lot of other things to worry about and a missing doctor from a MOM, although important, can be replaced.”

With this Weltha turned to look Agnes squarely in the eye. She was dead serious when she said, “I take every life under my jurisdiction very seriously. We may be more populated now, but we all try to take care of each other here in Nu2 Lupi.” She softened as she saw Agnes flinch. She had not meant to offend. “I understand why you feel that way. You may find that attitude in other systems, but not here.” Weltha was interrupted before Agnes could apologize.

She answered her communicator. “Johnson here, go ahead, Ruby.”

“Sheriff, sorry to bother you on your off time, but thought you should know that Clemens and Twain haven’t checked in. They’re not showing up on internal security scans.”

“They were assigned to this drum, too. Thanks, Ruby. Send extra deputies to the commerce drum. I’ll trace their beat.” Weltha clicked off her com-unit. “Agnes, stay close. I can’t search for my men and protect you unless you come along.”

“Not a problem. An extra set of eyes might help.” Agnes pitched her voice not to Weltha, but to Alfred.

“Right, Agnes. Let’s take the precaution of dropping three micro avatars from your bag. They can scan your immediate surroundings. I’ll also double check the security files and back track their route,” Alfred signaled through her earbud.

“Who are we looking for?” Agnes asked. Weltha showed her the deputies’ pictures on her com-unit. “Should we be sneaky or obvious in our search?”

“Since you shouldn’t be searching at all and it’s just the circumstances that put you here at the moment, we should be sneaky,” Weltha answered. “Let’s move to the catwalks and have a look. They were partners and should be patrolling the market right now. High ground will be our best bet of spotting them.” With that, she picked up a bag of fruit that Agnes had purchased and pointed off to a side street that led to a staircase. Alfred’s spiders followed, jumping from stall to stall. One of the three hitched a ride on the back of Weltha’s pant leg.

As Tommy left the tattoo parlor, he headed back toward the market. Passing by the painter, he got a smile and nod of greeting. The painter raised his brush to the canvas to apply more color when his sleeve fell down his arm, exposing a small symbol on his wrist.

Tommy, startled for a moment, stopped in the street. He had to get a closer look. So he strolled over to the artist to admire his work, strike up a conversation, and most importantly get a closer look at the tattoo on the artist wrist. As he approached, the artist continued placidly adding colors to his canvas. He made no effort to hide his wrist. In fact, he pulled up his sleeves. Tommy had a clear view of the tattoo. H was relieved to see a tattoo of two stone pillars. Between them was an open iron gate and a sunburst shown from behind bars. The gates had two thick horizontal bars, and a similar diagonal bar that, had the gates been closed, would have crossed for upper right to lower left. The vertical bars were ornate and thinner.

“Hello, Thomas,” the artist greeted Tommy as he stepped up beside him. This froze Tommy where he stood. “Do not fear. I mean you no harm, quite the contrary. You are wise to be wary the Reapers. They seek what you have, the key.”

“What?” Tommy asked. Tommy thought he might be losing it. He’d been in strange circumstances before. Then he glanced at the artist painting. It depicted the street they were on with the shops and the few people who strolled along it. But among those people were ghostly images of Grim Reapers, holding their scythes out, ready to strike their unwary victims. The artist had added clouds above the scene bathed in a golden sun with blood red fringes. The red dripped into pools of blood falling like rain on the people. And emerging from the shapes of the clouds was the visage of a single skeletal face surrounded by the sickles of the HAZMAT, like the tattoo he’d just seen. Tommy took in all of this in an instant. “Alfred! We’ve got trouble,” he said pitching his voice for his earbud to pick up.

“Yes, trouble,” said the artist. “But you have help, too.” He looked down to his paint box on the ground by his feet. There was a goo gun and cartridges ready to use. “Be ready when they come.” Tommy knelt down to the box to examine the contents. When he looked back up, the artist disappeared. Tommy did not see the spider avatar with projector scampering away, but Alfred caught the hologram flicker out.

“Got to get me one of those,” Alfred said for Tommy’s benefit. “I’m scanning. But tracking that signal will take time. I have a report that two of Sheriff Johnson’s deputies have gone missing in this area. I suggest you take the paint box and get moving.”

“Roger that, Alfred.” Tommy picked up the box and slung its strap over his shoulder, keeping his hand near the lid ready to use the gun if needed. He headed back toward the market and Agnes when he spotted two uniformed deputies. At first he felt relieved.

“Those are not deputies!” Alfred warned. “Take the alleyway to the left and then backtrack on the next street,” Alfred instructed. Tommy followed Alfred’s instructions.

Up on the catwalks, Alfred informed Agnes where Tommy was and his situation. She looked in that direction, but did not see them from this vantage. Agnes had to move Weltha without giving away Alfred’s help, “Weltha, there are two deputies on that street.” She pointed in the general direction. “Oh, I lost them. Maybe if we moved higher?”

“OK” Weltha agreed. As they turned, three women blocked their way to the staircase. All three were wearing thick padded coats that easily hid their weapons. And each one had identical scythes tattooed to their necks under the same ear. “Maybe not that way,” Weltha said to Agnes, as she turned taking Agnes’ arm. They turned down the catwalk away from where Tommy was in danger.

Tommy cut down the side alley and backtracked to the next street. As soon as he’d ducked into the alley the “deputies” made to follow him. He spotted a homemade soap stall on the opposite side of the street and slipped inside to hide. The stall also sold candles and had a nice display of them in front of an etched mirror. Tommy used it to watch the alleyway he’d just exited. The “deputies” ran out a moment later, slowing as they realized they’d lost him. Here, they split up, each taking different directions on the street. The one that followed closest to Tommy passed right by the soap shop. Tommy made out a tattoo above the uniform collar, the blade of a scythe. The uniform on this guy was form fitting, for a woman. It didn’t fit the Reaper.

After his pursuer had passed out of sight down the street, Tommy contacted Alfred, “Let Agnes know. Where are the deputies?”

“Still searching. I could subsume one of the stations avatars to. It would be faster,” Alfred suggested.

“Do it.”

“Done. There was a medical drone in the market. I’ll retrace their steps.”

Tommy had an idea. He grabbed two small soaps and a burning candle. When the shopkeeper looked at him askance, Tommy smiled and swiped his cash card. “Thanks.” Tommy sat on the floor of the shop. He used the candle to melt wax on the arch of his boots and attached a soap bar before the wax solidified. “Where’s the stairs?” he asked the shopkeeper as he stood. The shopkeeper pointed up the street. Tommy saw them from where he was. “Thanks again,” and he dropped the candle into the paint box.

Tommy tried not to attract attention as he strolled up the street, but the “deputy” who had passed him in the shop was returning. Tommy was almost to the stairs when he was spotted. Now Tommy bolted up the stairs to the first level of catwalk. These were wide and supported from the ground rather than the ceiling. The “deputy” followed him. Others strolling on the catwalk assumed the “deputy” was doing his job, so they scattered. This gave the “deputy” a clear shot at Tommy.

By now, Weltha and Agnes were hurrying along at a brisk pace. The heavy boots of their pursuers thumped on the metal of the walkway matching them. Weltha cut to their left on a side path that took them over a park area. There were fewer people here that could get hurt in the crossfire. As they rounded the corner, she handed Agnes a small goo gun and put several cartridges in Agnes’ jumpsuit pocket. Agnes had a time juggling it and her groceries.

When the Reapers rounded the same corner, they were close to running. “Run!” Weltha yelled. Agnes tossed her groceries into the air and sprinted, matching Weltha step for step. They found the next stair down and skipped two steps at a time, jumping over the railing at the first landing. Several darts ricocheted off the stair as they dropped. Their pursuers had become dangerous. They hit the dirt of the park below, rolled and came up running.

“Alfred, some help,” Agnes requested, not concerned by now if Weltha heard her. Alfred dropped his two spiders from an overhead support beam on the back of two of the Reapers and zapped them. They went down. Now it was two to one, but the one was determined and had military training. She jumped the rail and rolled on her landing coming up ready to fire.

Weltha and Agnes had found cover in a growth of tall bushes. They got separated. Weltha had her gun out and ready. She carefully tracked through the underbrush looking for both Agnes and the Reaper. The brush was thick, but the children and teens that frequented it had worn paths throughout the park. She was just stepping into an intersection of paths when a woman screamed. She darted down the intersecting path and zigged through a maze of other paths as quickly as she could to get to the screams. When she arrived at a clearing in the brush, famous for teenage liaisons, she had a hard time believing what she saw.

A few moments earlier the Reaper had stalked Agnes through the brush with little problem. Agnes knew the Reaper was closing on her, and she was counting on it. Once Agnes had made the clearing, she broke a small branch of a nearby tree and tucked herself under a bush opposite the tree in the clearing. When the woman Reaper ran into the clearing, she read the sign of the broken branch and looked up, searching for a hiding Agnes in the tree. At the proper moment, Agnes swept the legs out from under the Reaper. She rolled out from under the brush and came to her feet a fraction of a second before the woman, kicking the weapon from her hands. For several minutes, Agnes and the Reaper matched each other blow for blow, parrying each thrust in a close hand-to-hand combat.

Still recovering from her virus and needing gene therapy, Agnes felt her strength waning. She could not sustain this much longer. She didn’t wonder, yet, how she was fighting this well in the first place. The woman got in a blow to her face and drew blood. Agnes took a step back, wiped her face and spat out a mouthful of blood. Glaring at the Reaper, she let out a blood curdling scream and attacked, wildly running at her enemy.

The Reaper caught off guard was terrified. Never in her military career had she faced the ferocity of such an unarmed attack. She snatched at two blades she had hidden on her leggings and made ready to cut down Agnes.

The screams were part of Agnes’ feint. When it appeared she would attack with a full upper body assault and run right into those blades, she dropped into a slide and tackled the woman. Rolling over on top of her, she trapped one blade under the Reaper’s body and broke the arm holding the other blade. Agnes stood, letting her fury carry her through several more lightning fast attacks to the Reaper’s ribs and arms. Agnes thoroughly and expertly disabled her attacker.

It was as Agnes ran for her blade wielding attacker that Weltha came on the scene. For a moment, she thought she might have to rescue the Reaper from Agnes.

Finally, Agnes paused, pinning the woman to the ground with her knee on her throat. “What do you people want from us?” Agnes snarled inches from the Reaper’s tattooed face. The woman just grinned back. “Really? That’s what you’ve got?” Agnes said shaking her opponent roughly.

“The Systems will be cleansed and the true believers rise,” the Reaper spat out at Agnes.

Agnes stood, pulling the bad arm of the woman straight and replacing the knee on the throat with her boot. While she did this, the woman managed to get at another hidden blade. Agnes saw it though. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” With that, Agnes pulled out the goo gun Weltha had given her and shot the woman in the face, zapping her unconscious. Now that the danger had passed, Agnes began to pass out. Weltha caught her as she fell and eased her to the ground.

“If you ever need a job…” Weltha began, smiling down at her.

“I’ll have to let you know,” as she smiled up at Weltha.

Tommy leapt from the catwalk to a lower landing and another set of stairs. These he ran up taking several steps at once. He worked his way higher into the walkway system above the floor of the drum. The “deputy” attempted to keep up with him. Once Tommy reached an upper level, he sprinted along the walkway. This path took him out over one of the three vast windows that let light into the drum. The pull of the drums spin weakened the higher he climbed in the walkways.

Tommy’s pursuer was closing on him. The Reaper fired two warning shots. The darts that whizzed by Tommy’s head were not from a regulation station goo gun. They could kill. With that, Tommy stopped at a down staircase and hopped onto the railing. His soaped boots allowed him to ride the railing down to the next landing. Instead of turning and taking the next level down, Tommy jumped across to another set of stairs going up to the other side of the same walkway.

Reaching into the paint box, which he still carried, Tommy withdrew the goo gun. Still moving fast, he got behind the “deputy” and fire off a shot. The goo connected with the middle of the man’s back, but hitting the fabric of the uniform instead of direct contact with the skin, the Reaper was only stunned. The Reaper slowly raised his weapon square with Tommy’s head. Tommy jumped up. In the lower gravity of these heights, he grabbed a support girder. Several darts pinged off it as Tommy took cover behind it. Spotting a support cable that angled down to the walkway below, Tommy hopped on and glided down.

The Reaper slowed by the goo zap tracked Tommy down from above. As the cable passed directly over the Reaper’s head, he anticipated where Tommy would be and fired. But Tommy wasn’t there. Tommy had jumped off the cable, calculating precisely where to land on the “deputy.” As he fell, Tommy squeezed off several more rounds of goo. With his slow reflexes, the “deputy” Reaper looked back up at Tommy just as the volley of goo hit him squarely in the face. Tommy landed hard, but the Reaper’s body broke his fall.

“Alfred, Agnes and Weltha?”

“They are fine. The real deputies were recovered and those Reapers have been apprehended. I’ll report the location of this one. However, check your six,” Alfred warned.

Tommy looked behind him and ran. “Al, nearest Postal Service Office? NOW!” Several more Reapers, these clothed in long black cloaks, were just coming up the stairs only meters away.

“Not good. It’s on the opposite side of this drum. You won’t make it,” Alfred feared.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Try to get some of them off my tail. The rest, leave to me.” Tommy jumped on the railing once more and using that single path, glided along it, pumping his legs like a speed skater on ice. The difference was his feet had to be at that odd angle so his arches made contact with the rail.

He worked his way around the walkways in this manner, staying just out of range of his pursuers, but always within sight. Alfred used avatars to block and take out several of the pirates as they followed Tommy. But each time he took down one or two, they were replaced with more.

Below, Weltha helped Agnes out of the park. She had insisted on walking out under her own power. Once she caught her breath, and had a coughing fit, she seemed to do better.

“I wish I knew where Tommy was,” she muttered to herself. Weltha, hearing this, stopped and pulled out her com-unit. She punched up a tracer application. The sheriff’s shield faded into a map of the station. When she looked up at the walkways to find Tommy’s position over their heads, she wasn’t surprised to see Agnes had already found him.

“I’m going to have to meet this Alfred,” she said to Agnes. Agnes glanced at her with a limp smile that faded as her concern for Tommy returned. “Where is he leading them?” she asked.

“Where else, the Postal Service. I guess he has a message he wants to give them,” Agnes tried a weak joke. “Can we go?”

“Yes, there’s a tram station on this side of the park. I’m not sure we can beat them, but we’ll try,” Weltha promised.

Tommy worked his way to the Postal Service Office using a lot of false turns. He did not want them to figure out his destination and cut him off. Instead he worked his way down to the last level of walkways where they finally cut off his exit. At that point he did the only thing he could. He fired off a volley of goo and jumped the full story to the ground below. There he rolled to dissipate some of the energy. When Tommy stood to run he slipped on a piece of garbage that had fallen out of its container behind a restaurant, twisting his ankle. He stood up and tried to walk. Pain shot up his leg.

“Not good, not good,” he repeated this mantra as he limped to the only cover he could find, the open door to the kitchen. The startled kitchen staff stared at him until the head chef rumbled up to him, threatening him with a large knife.

“You do not belong here during the lunch. Leave immediately!” the chef demanded. Even in pain, Tommy’s training took hold. He disarmed the chef flipping the knife around and pointing to the refrigerator door while holding the chef with his other hand.

“Hide, NOW!” Tommy warned them. He opened the door, limping with the knife in one hand and the chef in the other, and ushered the staff into the locker. Last, he shoved in the chef.

“What!? You cannot be doing this! Not in my kitchen!” As the chef uttered the last, several lethal darts whizzed past his nose into the opened door next to him. The chef grabbed the handle and slammed the door shut, heroically locking the staff inside and out of danger.

Tommy dodged behind some hanging pans as more darts pinged into the kitchen, followed by the Reapers. Tommy ejected a spent goo cartridge and replaced it in his gun. He dispatched two more pirates. “Alfred, fire alarm.”

Understanding, Alfred set off the fire alarm to evacuate the costumers in the crowded dining hall. Tommy held off the Reapers long enough for all the patrons to get out. Alfred set off the foam fire extinguishers over the ovens. The slippery floor slowed down the Reapers long enough for Tommy to grab a metal cooking sheet and limp out with the last of the patrons.

Once outside, Tommy saw the costumers gathered across the street and the fire brigade of avatars was barreling down the street. This entertainment avenue had been designed to look like a small Italian village from old Earth. There was a central fountain, and the street looked like cobblestone. “Tommy, I’ve got the avatars. What do you need?” Alfred asked through his earbud.

“Timing and foam,” Tommy answered. As the Reapers emerged from the restaurant, Alfred hit them with sprays of water to delay them until Tommy was ready. It was too dangerous to hold the Reapers here with so many innocent people in the area.

Another of the avatars rolled up to Tommy and offered him a foam hose. Too small for Tommy to ride, Alfred said, “Grab on and foam the stone.” The water hose shut off on the Reapers and the foam hose Tommy held poured foam onto the street.

Tommy sprayed the foam onto the roadway as the avatar pulled him down the street on the metal pan like a ski board. The pirates now made no pretense they were not after Tommy and ran down the street firing darts after him. Tommy wrapped the hose around one arm, sat on the pan to create a smaller target, and fired the rest of his goo cartridge at the pursuing Reapers. They all turned the corner at the end of the block and ran into a dead end.

There stood the welcoming facade of the Postal Service Office. Its graphic eagle and vast storage space were known over the settled galaxy. As the avatar slid to a stop, Tommy released the hose and slid on his butt through the doors. The light on his anklet went from green to red. Hot on his sliding butt the Reapers ran after him, weapons drawn.

Once inside the office, Tommy crashed into the package drop-off counter. He turned in time to see his pursuers follow him into the large waiting room where postal costumers queued up with their packages. The Reapers aimed their weapons at Tommy. With blood in their eyes, they were ready to finish him when the sound of a heavy door slammed.

They turned as one to realize that the high security main entrance had closed and locked with them inside the Post Office. Not only that, a squad of station deputies and several regional marshals from the local office gooed them as soon as the door closed. The Reapers never got a chance to fire a shot. They collapsed to the floor, covered in purple goo.

Agnes, Weltha and the postmaster rushed from behind the counter to check on Tommy. They helped him to his one good foot.

“Ouch, careful,” Tommy pleaded. With Agnes on one arm and Weltha on the other, they helped him to a bench. A Med avatar rolled up and ministered to Tommy’s twisted ankle.

“What made you think to bring them in here?” Weltha asked.

“I know the place. It’s secure. And you told me not to.” He tapped the anklet strapped to his bad ankle. Weltha gave no resistance when the Med avatar requested it be removed. She promptly tapped in the instruction on her app, and the anklet obediently snapped open.

“Is that wise?” asked the postmaster. She was a tall woman with a sever crook in her long nose. A career civil servant and by the books all the way she glared at Tommy with trepidation.

“I think we’ll be alright just this once. He is in my custody, and I believe I’m cooking dinner for him tonight.” Weltha smiled with Agnes at this comment.

Fiht, fiht, fiht, fiht. Tania continued to pop off rounds with her needle gun at the firing range. Once she had emptied her clip, she punched the retrieve button. Her target, a sheet of SMART paper, with the outline of a human form, flew to her along the line on which it hung. Not much had changed on a gun range in hundreds of years, she mused.

As she examined her neat pattern of holes around the target’s heart, she heard clapping. “Very nice pattern, Agent Smith,” Admiral Sutton said from behind her.

“Thank you, Admiral.” Tania responded. “I try to keep certified with my field training when I can.”

Sutton picked up a dart gun and replaced the empty cartridge of needles. “I always found target practice relaxing. It was most helpful when I had something on my mind that was bothering me,” she commented as she took aim on her target. She emptied the clip of twenty-four needles into the target and hit the retrieve button. Turning to Tania, she asked, “Is there something on your mind Agent Smith?”

Tania wasn’t sure what to say. She had given regular briefings to Sutton on her findings concerning Captain Tommy Judson. As she dug deeper, she had become concerned that the data she was seeing was incorrect, corrupt. She looked at the Admiral sizing up her options for a moment and sizing up her boss. “In this business, how do you know who to trust?” She was collecting data.

Sutton wasn’t sure if the data was about trust or the Admiral herself. Sutton almost smiled at the question, “Trust? Is that even a part of the equation?”

Tania considered again before continuing, “Data, people, aren’t they very much the same? Some you can trust, some you can’t. How do you tell the difference, Admiral Sutton?” Tania was not asking in a general sense, she wanted to know how the Admiral decided what to trust.

“Data or people? I used to put trust in people, then when I got disappointed I put my trust in the data,” Sutton answered. “Then I trusted only myself, but even that can disappoint. Now,” Sutton shrugged, “Now I take it day by day. Sometimes I need to trust the data and sometimes the people. What do you trust Smith?”

“I trust that at the end of the day, if I’ve done my job the best I can, I have served a greater good in this universe.” Tania didn’t hesitate to answer.

“What brings on this melancholy today, Smith? Is the job eating at you?”

Tania busied herself taking down the targets while she collected her thoughts. She neatly folded her own and placed it in her satchel with her score and analysis printed at the bottom by the SMART paper. She continued while she examined Sutton’s target. Deciding she had to trust someone, she confessed, “I’m seeing patterns in the data. There are connections between incidents and records of the Wars that, frankly, scare me.” Sutton just let the comment hang there.

Feeling uncomfortable in the silence, Tania handed Sutton the target. “Well, anyway, physical evidence never lies. Your only hit your target once. You might not see any more field work, but I’d be glad to help you with your marksmanship.”

Sutton smiled. She almost laughed when she said, “Smith, you’ll be alright. Don’t always trust your eyes,” She began and pushed the target paper back to Tania. “Keep it. Look closer.” Sutton turned to leave. She paused at the door to the firing range and turned for one last comment, “You will be afraid, and thrilled, and shocked. It’s all part of the job. At the end of the day, you are doing your best, because we need you to and better. You do serve the greater good of the universe.” Then the Admiral turned to leave. Tania heard Sutton comment as she walked out the door and into the hall, “Look closer at that target. Let me know if you want me to help you with your marksmanship.”

Tania examined the target more closely and then smiled with understanding. There was one small whole through the eye of the target. It looked like a single needle had passed through that spot. The score and analysis at the bottom was clear, however. Sutton had put all twenty-four shots through that single hole.

Sutton’s message became clear. There was at least one person Tania need trust, at least for today. She carefully folded the target and filed it next to her own, vowing to get in a little more practice before challenging Admiral Sutton again.