Sons of Abraham: J-17's Trial (12 page)

She handed the device to him, then sat next to him on the three-person bench. Sandra wanted to object, being uncomfortable with her baby sister sitting so close to something she didn’t fully trust. Fully was a pipe dream. She would settle for a quarter at the moment. Still, it was far more relaxing without the Cyber being armed. She tried not to think of the fact that a quick move on his part would change that in the blink of an eye. Surely, the Cyber noticed that her weapon hadn’t been loaded. He would make for Quaid and they’d all be right back where they’d started an hour prior.

“Yes, I wondered when I came across that earlier,” he stated. “I opted to keep going and inquire about it later. It seems there is no mentioning of the Venus settlement. I can’t imagine why that is. People should understand the risks involved with terraforming before colonizing a new planet.”

“So what happened?” Sandra asked, wondering if she could slip away to load her gun. Maybe she could fake having to go to the restroom.

“A dreadful miscalculation,” he replied. “They made the ozone layer thick enough to reduce the sun’s rays, but that was based upon the current location of the planet in its orbit. As you all know, orbits are seldom in a perfect circle. When the planet reached its nearest point to the sun, the ozone layer proved of little use. Luckily, they had the common sense to evacuate long before any lives were lost. It did set back the program, I’m afraid to say. An internal power struggle occurred between the doctors, the Cybers, and the financial backers of the program. It seems they worked things out for the best.”

“Back to the matter at hand,” Quaid interrupted. “You can’t recall how you got there, maybe even how the station got there. So what exactly do you want us to do for you, Mr. Abraham?”

Abraham handed the device back to Jenna before turning his attention to the question. He started to speak, but closed his mouth and reconsidered. A moment later, the solution came to him.

“May I see YOUR data pad?” he asked, looking to Sandra.

Sandra felt the pad in her thigh pouch, though she had no intentions of relinquishing it to their new passenger. One simply command from him and the whole thing would be erased.

“I don’t think so,” she stated. “You could erase it and this whole trip would be a waste. I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m not in a position to trust you.”

Abraham looked to her, then to Quaid, then back to Sandra once more. He sighed, lowering his head to look at the metal grated floor at his feet.

“Yes, quid pro quo,” he stated. “I am an unwelcome passenger on this vessel. Thus far, I have offered you no payment. I am grateful to both of you. Had you not released me from my prison, I’d be stuck there for eternity. I should very much like to pay you for that.”

Quaid looked to his partner, a plethora of possibilities forming in his mind. The Cyber knew things that no one else could tell them. He could aid their scavenging, maybe even make them an offer that could put some credits in their accounts. He couldn’t help but smile at the possibilities.

“I’m sure we can work something out,” Quaid replied, looking to his partner. “You have a keen intellect and know things that we could never dream of. You find us something profitable and I’ll let you stay on. How’s that sound?”

“I believe I can speed this process along,” Sandra stated. “The data on this pad is encrypted. You know how to fix that?”

Abraham thought for a second, a thousand calculations performed before any of the people could blink their eyes.

“Does the encryption look like strange hieroglyphics?” he asked.

“I’d say so.”

“Then no, I can’t fix it for you. But I know who can.”

Sandra looked to her boss, waiting for him to respond. This was his deal after all, she was just the acting middleman.

“I think you got yourself a deal Abraham,” Julius Quaid replied.

“I didn’t tell you to have Elsmere murdered!” Kingsley snapped. “The man was a pervert, but we needed him alive. Your idiocy will set back our relations with Parasus twenty years, perhaps thirty. What the hell were you thinking?”

The man leaned back in the leather chair, ignoring the question. His eyes remained focused on the windows, or more the view the windows offered. From their perch, high above the city, he could see the busy little bees going to work down below. Various flying craft passed by, each with their purpose and destination. Outside, the world was working as intended. At least on the surface. In every dark corner of the city, things did not go so smoothly. The hidden markets were a disgrace to the community, with illegal activities occurring every second of every day. Drugs, gun shipments, and human slavery could be found if the buyer knew only where to look. It was easy to lose sight of these things when one sat so high upon the world. The man whom worked from such a perch needed a reminder of how the world worked when viewed up close. He needed to see how dirty one’s hands had to get in order to maintain the balance.

“Are you even listening to me?” the man snapped.

The seated man looked to the question, though he didn’t care for the tone in which it was accompanied. The man questioning him was turning red in anger, the veins on his forehead straining their way through the skin. He was a fat thing, and old. His white hair combed to one side, his face still red in anger. His suit cost more than the busy bees below would make in a year, a lifetime for some. The desk that sat between them could be sold and feed a small town for several weeks, as could the various end tables in the corners. The plants next to the windows along the short walls were rare, having been grown on Venus when a colony still resided there. The seeds had been salvaged, with new plants grown every generation. Only a man with power and great wealth could manage to get their hands on them. This fat man before him had both, as displayed by having three of the Venus Lotus plants in the room. They were a remarkable specimen, with dark blue flowers that turned black when they reached the bulb. A vine wrapped around each stem, strengthening the stalk of the plant.

“God damn it Jones, answer me!” the fat man shouted.

The man known as Jones looked to the fat man, noting how red his complexion remained. He tugged at the sleeves of his thermal, long sleeve shirt, noting how loose it was fitting these days. He needed to eat more. He had to punch a new hole in his belt only a week ago, as it barely kept his tan cargo pants over his hips. His hair was a reddish brown, slicked back over his long scalp. His nose hung low on his face, his eyes gray and beady. His long fingers wrapped on the arm of the leather chair, his long legs begging to fidget out of boredom. He threw himself out of the chair, standing a foot taller than the fat thing before him. His gray eyes bore down upon the man as he leaned in, noting the presence of alcohol on the man’s breath.

“I don’t answer to you Kingsley,” he snapped.

“No, you answer to me,” the woman stated.

Jones and Kingsley turned, acknowledging the presence of Vice President Jana Wilkes. She was a tall woman, much more than Kingsley, though far less than Jones. Her blonde hair was tied back neatly, her dark roots showing in her scalp. She wore dark glasses, though she had no need for them. Her skin showed faint signs of wrinkles, a woman of early forties. Her makeup was thick, as was the dark red lipstick and mascara. Her jacket was red, covering a black dress that was far too tight and short for a woman of her stature.

“So I’ll ask the same question,” she stated. “But after we’re alone.”

Her blue eyes locked on Kingsley, the head of her security detail. The fat man looked to both of them, appalled by the suggestion that he should leave the room. He looked up at Jones, the smile on his face only making his skin turn redder.

“As you wish,” Kingsley mumbled, letting himself out the room’s only door.

“Thank God,” Jones stated after the door snapped shut. “Thought that fat fuck would never leave.”

“He was right you know?” she claimed. “Elsmere was a thorn, but a necessary one. King Isom is harder to deal with that Elsmere.”

“The King is old,” Jones replied. “The Prince seems much simpler a man. A simple miscalculation of a Gabriel Ring and we’ll save their planet from finding their King dead with his cock stuck in some whore’s vagina. We’d be doing his legacy a great service.”

VP Wilkes laughed, much deeper than that of a normal woman’s. Her bright eyes looked to her guest, the smile still on her face.

“It amuses me how you use cock and vagina in the same sentence,” she started. “Like you couldn’t decide whether to be vulgar or medical. What doesn’t amuse me is how you and Kingsley can’t seem to get along. You need to fix that.”

“Kingsley is a fool,” Jones muttered. “You have no right bringing the head of your security in our affairs. Fat bastard like that would turn us both in the minute he was pressured. It’s only a matter of time before he talks, especially since he’s always drunk.”

“Yes, he is,” Jana replied. “But I need the means to get you in and out of the building undetected. No better person for the job I’m afraid.”

She sat behind the heavy desk, her right leg folding over her left knee. Her long legs stretched, exposing far too much of her thigh for Jones’ liking. This was not the type of relationship he’d signed up for as he’d recalled.

“But now to business,” she stated. “Why did you kill Elsmere? Seems like overkill to me.”

Jones sat back in the chair, his gaze returning to the windows. Wilkes tried to place his age. He had more knowledge and wisdom than she’d witnessed in any other man, but his flawless skin suggested he was far younger than she was. The scanners claimed he wasn’t a Cyber, but she suspected that something else was unnatural about the man. She made certain never to trust him with too many details, given how little she could deduct of the man.

“You see all the busy bees going about their various tasks?” he started. “Each one of them has a duty to perform. If that duty is not accomplished, then things begin to fall apart. If things fall apart, then chaos ensues.”

“What of it?” Jana asked, growing impatient.

“Now imagine that the bees out there had a much larger hive. A hive that stretched to the far corners of the universe. You are the Vice President to one country, of one world, in one system. I, however, work in a much larger realm. The influence of my financial backers stretches out as far as Gabriel Rings can muster, pushing mankind further and further away from the hive, you struggle to control. This planet, and Parasus for that matter, is but a few chambers of a much larger hive. We need to create a common enemy amongst the hive, one for the bees to rally against and join forces to defeat. There will be no battles, so to speak, but the unification can only be met by giving them a common enemy.”

Jana smiled, reaching into her desk and withdrawing a glass and a brown bottle. She poured herself a drink as the sun crept to the top edge of the building’s windows. She took a sip, leaving a distinct lip print upon the edge of the clear glass.

“I knew I liked you for a reason,” she said, setting the glass back on the desk. “Though I think we should hold off on killing King Isom for the moment. He is difficult, but easily swayed if the offer is large enough.”

“I see,” Jones stated, looking away from the window. “So why have you summoned me? I am a busy man.”

“You’re only busy with what I tell you to do,” she replied. “I brought you in to discuss what will happen tomorrow at the trial. I want this finished before the week’s end, no mistakes.”

“You needn’t waste my time with that,” he said. “I assure you everything is in order. The world will see that a Cyber killed a high-ranking official in cold blood, he will be executed for it, and certain little birds will chirp that the government no longer requires the services of the Cybers. The fire will be lit, and wildfire will spread throughout the forest.”

“Yes, a fire,” she replied, taking another sip. “I’m not one for getting burned Mr. Jones. If I burn, you burn with me.”

Jones stood up, the wrinkles of his clothes falling back into place. He took a step to the window, looking far to the street below. He caught a transport truck, military, and wondered where it was going and who was inside. He wondered if a soldier was returning from his mission, happy to get home and see his wife and child. Yes, that was the thought he would stick with. Always better to imagine something pleasant than horrific.

“You needn’t worry Vice President,” he said, still looking to the street. “As long as the President doesn’t catch wind of what’s happening, we shall be fine. Everyone else has been taken care of, I assure you.”

“The President!” she laughed, nearly spilling the glass on the desk. “That fool wouldn’t know how to spell conspiracy, let alone detect one. You let me worry about James Garber, you just handle that Cyber tomorrow.”

Jones pulled a data pad from the hip pocket of his cargo pants. The screen lit up to his touch just a moment before he punched a sequence into the device. A moment later, he put it back in his pocket and turned to his employer.

“I just handled it,” he replied. “As of this moment, he will receive new orders and his video files will become corrupted. Should anyone download them and examine it, they’ll believe that he corrupted the files himself to avoid condemnation. All according to plan.”

“I would like a little more assurance than that,” she stated. “There’s too much at stake to take a gamble. Major David Ballistar is no fool. He’s probably downloaded the files from it already. How will you handle that little problem?”

Jones didn’t care for her referring to the Cyber as an ‘it.’ His fist wished to clench, but he thought better of it. He prided himself in remaining calm under fire. To lose one’s cool in front of one’s employer would be a loss in future business. He couldn’t afford to lose such a powerful employer at this time.

“Because the order will transfer wirelessly to all files,” he claimed. “After the data in his brain corrupts, it’ll spread throughout the network. Every file on J-17 will instantly become corrupted. Any programmer with half a brain will discover that the source came from the Cyber. It’ll prove his guilt in the matter and beg the question as to whether or not Cybers can be trusted with sensitive systems and information.”

“So they will see it as a flawed Cyber,” she replied. “That may condemn the MA, but it does little to spread this fire you so elegantly created.”

A smile formed on the man’s face. He turned to her desk, his long hands grasping the corners as he leaned in close enough to feel her breath on his skin.

“I’ve created other assurances as well.”

***************************

“It was here last night!” David Ballistar yelled, throwing the tablet down in disgust. “I looked it over three times before I went to bed.”

Andrew Gates frowned at the display of temper, picking the tablet back up from the table. As he’d suspected, the screen was now cracked. He pressed his own tablet to it, withdrawing the data they’d been looking over for the last hour.

Major Ballistar looked to the Colonel, realizing his mistake. He hung his head in shame, trying to determine why he was so angry over a corrupted file. It hadn’t been the first time that video footage from a Cyber had become tainted when viewed on a portable device. Most likely, the data within the Cyber’s head would live stream during the trial, thus proving his tantrum pointless.

“Getting pissed won’t solve the problem,” Gates replied sternly. “Have you looked over the Cyber’s protocols? I want to make certain that we know everything before we go up against the board today.”

David looked at the man, trying to suck the wisdom from the room. Colonel Andrew Gates oversaw the missions of the Cybers, as well as being the one in charge of commissioning new Cybers to replace those that had fallen. He was a tall, imposing man in stature, but not so much in the face. His hair was almost gone now, perfectly smooth on the top with a ring of dark hair around his ears and the back of his neck. He wore red framed glasses, opting not to have the corrective surgery performed. He always said he preferred the glasses, as they gave him a unique appearance to an otherwise forgettable face. His eyes were dark, outlined by thick black brows that matched the man’s suit and tie. His voice wasn’t as deep as one would expect from such a tall man, but it carried well. He could stand in the gathering hall today and his words would reach everyone without the assistance of technology. That same booming voice had been yelled over many battlefields, now diminished to courtrooms and boardrooms. He was a hard man to work for, but Ballistar would trust his life with the man.

“I have,” David muttered, fatigue setting in. “That is going to be a huge obstacle to overcome I’m afraid.”

Gates looked concerned as he dropped the broken tablet back on the desk. It crashed against the wood, a chip of the screen falling out of it.

“What do you mean David?”

“I mean that MA Joseph sat in his ship for five hours after he passed through the Gabriel Ring, with no recollection of what happened during that time. The ship’s logs show that he navigated out of the ring, and steered to within the orbit of Parasus. Then, he just sat there for hours, doing nothing.”