Aura Overload

40 – A Simple Plan

Hector followed the synth to a less populated hallway, then around a couple more corners where they came to an elevator that required a key-code to access. The synth opened it, and inside, the walls were lined with genuine wooden paneling, and soft instrumental music played. “He’s up on the executive level,” the synth said as the elevator hummed and lurched upward.

Hector nodded, his mood firmly in the grasp of something dour and melancholy. A thought came to him, though, and he asked, “He’s okay with being seen with me?”

“Well, sir, he didn’t mention any concern; however, it is important to note that Mr. Janus is the head of security for RMC.”

Hector looked at the synth sharply. “I thought he was a, uh, VP of robotics or something like that.”

“VP of robot acquisitions. That’s one of his titles, yes, though his interest in robots is geared toward security. Many of the synthetics employed by RMC have Mr. Janus to thank for their bodies.” He bowed briefly, clearly trying to imply that he was one such case.

“Synths aren’t robots.”

“Not exactly. It would depend on the degree of customization; however, our bodies are largely robotic—add in some synthetic flesh and a synthetic mind, and you have an individual like myself.” The elevator slowed and dinged, and the synth chuckled, gesturing to the doors as they swished open. “What a stimulating turn our conversation took! Well, I can see why Mr. Janus is eager to speak with you. Right this way.”

Hector followed him into a plushly carpeted hallway, and as they passed by a pair of suits—a woman in a clinging executive skirt and a man who smelled like a roving spice garden—he suddenly felt the weight of the grime soaked into his clothes and, probably, his hair. They glanced at him, but maintained their neutral expressions, only resuming their conversation in low tones when they were several steps away. Hector glowered—what else could he do?

He was glad to see Evie populating his mini-map with the interior of the building as he discovered it; if things suddenly went sideways, he wouldn’t struggle to find his way out. Another corner took them to a long, dim hallway with a single door at the end. They’d made it halfway down the hall when the door opened and a very large, black-armored figure appeared.

Hector recognized the peacekeeper’s gear immediately, but it was the first time he’d seen Logan with no helmet on his head; his face looked different with sandy-brown hair framing it. The PK locked eyes with Hector for a moment as he approached, but all he did was nod, almost imperceptibly, as he stomped past, his boots thudding on the carpet as he went. The synth didn’t comment, and when he reached the door, he held it open, nodding to Hector. “Go on in, sir; he’s expecting you.”

Hector was surprised to find Janus in a relatively modest office. His desk was centered on the door, about four paces deep, and behind him was a window affording a view of the front side of the complex—no expansive view into the abyss for Roy Janus. The executive sat in front of that window, and he watched as Hector approached, pointing to one of the two chairs before his desk.

“Take a seat, Hector.”

Hector didn’t move, but turned to watch the synth withdraw and close the door. As soon as the latch clicked, a high-pitched ringing sounded in his ears, and he turned back to Janus. The older man, impeccable in his ten-thousand-bit suit, nodded and confirmed Hector’s suspicions by saying, “Jammer.”

Hector took his time moving around the chair before sitting, allowing the soft leather to embrace him. He thought it really was leather, too; he could tell from the smell.

“I guess I owe you some explanations, don’t I, young man?”

Hector tilted his head, looking into the man’s golden specs, watching as tiny lights flickered on the lenses. “I think I’ve got most of it figured out.”

“Hah! I’ll bet you do, I’ll bet you do. Indulge me, anyway? I think it’s a good story.”

“Sure. I’m listening.”

“Well, you didn’t know this back on the train, but I recognized you. You were different, sure, but eyes are cheap, right? No, I saw in your face the young man that an employee of mine had come to me about. He was her brother, you see, and he’d gone missing.” When Hector didn’t say anything, he continued, “Brittany Chevalier was a security contractor for the mine, and I’d had occasion to speak to her. I’d put her in charge of some of the modern training programs—working to bring our synthetic units up to snuff.”

Hector nodded to show he was still listening.

“I told her I’d help with her brother, and I tried; I really did. The truth is that her little problem led me down a road most vile—one of corruption and deceit. I found out about Magistrate Tacitianus and his connection to some of my counterparts in the mine. He looks the other way for certain things—project permits, settlement claims, environmental complaints, even domestic disturbances for some of the execs.” Janus sighed, shaking his head. “I know, I know. I’ve benefited from the good magistrate’s corruption. Every bonus I’ve been paid, every stock option—they’re all made more valuable by the rules he bent and broke for the company.”

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He stood and walked over to a cabinet beside his desk, digging out a pair of tumblers and a bottle of dark, amber liquor. “Can I pour you a drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Right, right. You’ve a fight to prepare for.” Janus poured himself a healthy shot, took a sip, and then sat down. “I won’t lie, Hector. I’m no saint. When I saw you on that train, I thought to myself, ‘Now, don’t overplay your hand. Keep an eye on him; see what he does. Maybe he’ll do something bold, maybe he’ll take out one of your enemies.’”

He chuckled, setting his glass on the desk. “I told you, I’m not exactly a good guy, you see? Still, I’m better than that magistrate and the execs he works for here. We’re talking real debauchery, Hector. Young women go missing from the mine more frequently than they ought to—chalked up to accidents, but I’ve seen things going on at that man’s villa. Well, not personally, but my synths—security.”

“If you’re trying to get me to dislike him, you can save your breath.”

“Right, well, Brittany said you were all business, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know. Where is she?”

“Safe. Our peacekeeper friend put her up in a townhouse down in Redwick—a safe-house of sorts.” He sipped his drink again. “So, back to my story. I watched you. I watched you go to that apartment building, and I saw the aftermath. I watched you go to that place in the hills, that rock depot. I saw what happened there. I watched you go to Tent Town, and then I got in touch with Logan. I could see the trajectory of your actions, and I knew you’d need help if you were going to take out the magistrate.”

“If that was what I planned.”

“Right, of course. Play it safe.” Janus chuckled. “Let’s remember that I’m working with Logan, and he’s been chatting with Brittany. I know what you mean to do, and I intend nothing but support for your cause. With me on your side, Hector, you’re sure to have a greater chance at success. I control the security. Think about that! Even if you were to succeed with your violent plan, do you think you’d escape without my help? We’ve got drones and security personnel all over this facility—cameras by the thousands.”

“But if you helped me?”

“Well, there’d be a glitch with the system. Our cameras would stop recording, and my synths would be called away. Later, in a post-mortem, we’d determine that the assassins had a skilled netjacker, someone who circumvented our protocols with some inside information—likely someone who’d been working with that crooked magistrate, helping him bring illicit goods to his villa.” Janus shrugged, smiling almost sheepishly. “Let’s just say I’ll be using this event to clear out a lot of executive dead weight.”

“So that’s what you get? Some slots open up on the board or something?”

Janus shrugged. “Not exactly the board, but definitely some opportunities for my advancement.”

“And how do I know you won’t sell me out?”

“Why? What would that get me? You, the peacekeeper, Miss Chevalier? None of you would quietly go along with my tale. Better to hang the assassination on some mysterious operatives working for one of my rivals. It will be quite trivial to sow distrust among them. And, as I said, the fallout will be ripe with opportunities.”

Hector contemplated the blue sky outside the window. He’d known he was sticking his neck out by coming to Redwick Station, but he’d never thought he’d get mixed up in the machinations of a suit like Janus. The man would have given some of the Royals he’d worked for a run for their money, that was for sure. Still, he’d told Britt he’d deal with Tacitianus, and here was the perfect vehicle with which to make good that promise.

It almost felt too good to be true, but it all…fit—Paul going missing, Britt looking for help from her boss, Janus recognizing him on the train and monitoring his activities. Nothing felt out of place, especially his professed motivations; corporations were famous for their cut-throat executive behavior. The one thing that had him nervous was the exit plan—would Janus really just let him walk?

“So how do you see this happening?” Hector asked, something in him keeping his tongue cautious.

“Simple: you take part in the fights and stay for the after party; one of my security synths will give you passage through the facility and out onto the residential rim. From there, you’ll be on your own to deal with the magistrate and his hired help. When you finish, return to the RMC building where the same synth will be waiting to guide you back down to the party.”

Hector stared into Janus’s jade green eyes for a moment, then shifted his gaze out to the sky again. After another few seconds of silence, he said, “Okay, Janus. Let’s work with each other on this.” He gestured to his tactical vest and soiled clothes. “You think I could get a uniform or something? Some coveralls?” Hector was thinking about more than clean clothes; he wanted to blend in when, after the fights were over, he followed that synth up to the ridge.

“We’ve got all sorts; I’ll get you something to fight in and also a security uniform for afterward. It’ll help you move about without much scrutiny.”

“And Britt?” Hector shifted. “I’d like to make sure she’s all right.”

Janus nodded. “I’ll arrange a call. Do you have contact info?”

“When you drop the jammer, open a comms port and my AI will send you my contact info.” Evie, give him an anonymous address.

“An AI? You are surprising, though I should have guessed as much after what you pulled off at that apartment building. Empire! What a mess!”

Hector stood. “I’m going to hit the showers. Think you could have the clothes delivered before I get out?”

“That won’t be a problem.” Janus cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, leaning forward. “Hector, a word of advice?”

Hector paused, half-turned toward the door. “Yeah?”

“Just go down early in the tournament. There’s no requirement to win in order to attend the party. Why risk death or injury? You’ve got important work to do tonight.”

Hector locked his pale blue eyes onto Janus’s, contemplating his words. After a few seconds, he said, “You know what I think of that idea.”

“I’m afraid I do, yes.” Janus sighed and tapped something on his desk. The pressure Hector had grown accustomed to in his ears faded; he’d turned off the jamming field.

//Contact info shared, Hector.//

Thanks.

“Well, Hector,” Janus said with an exaggerated wink, “it was a pleasure interviewing you. I’ll look forward to working with you on an as-needed basis.”

Hector nodded, reaching for the door handle. “Good meeting you.”

“Best of luck in the fights.”

Hector pulled the door open and stepped out into the hallway. Despite Janus’s pleasantness, despite the convenience and necessity of his help, something about their interaction made Hector feel dirty. His skin crawled, and he felt the grime in his clothes and on his flesh more pointedly than before he’d gone into that office.

With a grunt, he nodded to the well-dressed synth, apparently waiting to guide him back down to the ground floor. “Let’s go. I need a shower.”