Cyborg Claude
Episode 19
In the previous episode, the agency is untethered from the Universal Alliance and shifting to appearing as a legit business. If they do anything outside the universal law now, it cannot be tied to the cold war between the Universal Alliance and the Galactic Council. Claude is less of a mystery, but there’s plenty hidden, maybe even from him.
Cyborg Claude Main Page and Table of Contents
“And what am I supposed to do with this?”
Conrad stiffened in his chair. What information he had gleaned had not helped smooth over the debacle based on that question.
The commissioner clasped his hands and leaned forward on his desk. Gray brows knitted in a frown. “Exactly.” The commissioner sat back in his chair. “We are billed directly by the Deserkan Space Station Association for damages done with proof it was you who did it. You are also on the Deserkan’s apprehend and arrest list.” He paused. “Care to tell me how I am supposed to see this two-week trip of yours to be anymore than a slap in the face and a cost that puts me over budget? I should fire you.”
Conrad shrunk into his chair. How did they get all that to the commissioner with proof? He could not even set foot on anything controlled by Deserka again. Not that he cared, since Deserka sat at the top of his least favorite places. He looked up slowly at his boss.
“This secret agency is breaking my back. The Galactic Council is putting the brakes on. Nothing is okayed without them signing off on it now. More red tape than I ever wanted.” The commissioner rose from his seat slowly and turned to look out the window at the lights of the city.
“There is something not quite right in the information of what occurred, but it is so seamless and backed by too many forces to be proven false. Blowing their whole secret service to nearly nothing five years ago didn’t stop it.” His hands clenched tight.
The commissioner turned back to Conrad, looking older than Conrad could remember. “Conrad, things are heating up to the point I fear a war is going to break out. Both sides have come so close to unveiling the truths of the opposing side too many times and, like five years ago, the fireworks are going off. I’m surprised that we didn’t go to war five years ago.”
“In a way, we have, sir.”
The commissioner continued as if Conrad hadn’t commented. “They have figured out the pirate ship decoys, but I’m not sure how much they actually know.” The commissioner leaned across the desk, commanding Conrad’s full attention with a steely gaze. “If that information leads back to the truth of what we have been doing, I’ll make sure your head rolls first.”
Conrad shifted in his seat under that gaze.
The commissioner looked down. “You did something right on this trip. This does not go out of this room.” He slid his a scrivpad across the desk.
Conrad picked it up. A photo of the Mystery Man he had taken while Angela interacted with him at the bar stared back at him. Maybe he had gotten lucky and killed the man in the shootout.
“He should be dead. But here he is as your ghost that led you on a chase that makes us look foolish. I know there is more to the story.”
Conrad gave the commissioner a quizzical look. What did he know about this man that no one else did?
“That is Claude Burn, former leader of their secret service. One of the best agents I’ve ever run into. Our first encounter was nearly twenty years ago. Then, for fifteen years, we played cat and mouse until we slipped an agent in. Yes, we infiltrated them and set them up for an ambush. I know you were part of the ambush. Claude figured it out. He killed our inside man without blinking. He nearly got away. It came to him and I…” The commissioner fell silent as he turned to gaze out the window again.
“He killed many of my friends, and my son. I strangled his last breath out of him with my own hands.” He lifted his hands and looked at them. “I know he died. A shuttle landed before our backup got there. Two people stepped out. I know I fired and then everything went black. They only tranquilized me and took the bodies of the twelve we ambushed.” His hands returned to the desk and his gaze appeared to pinpoint on his memories rather than anything else in the room.
“It still burns me up that none of our fighters could shoot them out of the sky before they broke the atmosphere. And even worse, they got past one of our warships to the space station. The only neutral space in our territory is those stations. Ironic that. We can’t control them, but we can’t live without them.”
Conrad squared his shoulders against the commissioner’s rage. The enemy had no pictures of the Mystery Man in their records. The deceased had their photos scrubbed. What were they trying to hide if the men were dead? If the Mystery Man truly died, as the commissioner claimed, this smacked of illegal bioengineering. The man showed little sign of being shot when on the spaceliner. He had something that healed him fast, but that didn’t explain his quick recuperate from drinking Zen Clear as if he had only drank foul water.
The commissioner’s voice broke into his thoughts. “I want the man captured to see what he really is now. I know you can’t do it personally and we can’t do much with our hands tied. We still have people watching and waiting. Find him and track him as best you can. If we get him, we can prove the Universal Alliance is breaking laws with some sort of biomechanics. They have to be because I watched the life drain from his eyes. I felt his heart stop.”
The commissioner slammed his fist down on the desk, causing Conrad to jolt. “The only way for it to be legal is if the Mystery Man is only a sophisticated android that looks like him. Either way, get him back here, dead or alive. I think alive would be more useful, even if I rather see him dead and cremated before my eyes.”
“Yes, sir.”
Conrad hoped he never caught the ire of the commissioner like this Claude had. No wonder the commissioner had the nickname of the Iron Fist. He rose from his seat and set the scrivpad on the desk. He gave the commissioner a crisp salute, which was returned.
“You aren’t fired, but get out of my office. Do one thing without orders through me and I court martial you. You got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
Conrad strode out. Too many complications had waylaid him, but several things fell into place. He didn’t know what they had protected with that successful ambush, but it had to be something substantial because the Universal Alliance kept trying to figure it out. It wrapped around the Mystery Man called Claude Burn. If the commissioner had squeezed the life out of the guy on Telna, it had to be right after he found the man nigh on death. He had helped shoot the man to death. Despite how fast they swooped in to scoop up the bodies, it couldn’t have been fast enough to save any of them.
Why hadn’t they taken the commissioner if they tranquilized him? The man had been one of the elite agency operative leaders. Despite how it turned out, he had become the commissioner about a year later.
Conrad hurried to his office. Something didn’t mesh. He had to capture Claude Burn and figure out how recent events coincided with the close call on Telna five years ago.
* * *
Krollin sprawled on the couch in his own apartment for the first time in weeks, thankful the traveling had ended. Of course, meetings of the Universal Alliance resumed tomorrow to with the exciting discussion of trade laws. He sighed. He would not have the excitement of working with the agency again. It was dissolved on paper and restructured as an independent business. At least he had helped with the new ship by linking the seller to a buyer. The only hitch revolved around the fact they had jobs lined up already. It forced them to set to a schedule, but at least they could move around and gather information.
He swirled the brandy around his glass, watching how the amber liquid picked up the light. His eyes wandered over to the scrivpad that had finished catching up on his email. He took a sip of the drink. A quick scan showed most of it related to tomorrow’s Alliance session about trade.
He took a bigger swallow of the drink and frowned. It did not taste quite right, or maybe he had gotten used to Zen flavored drinks while aboard the yacht. He took another swallow of it and shrugged his shoulders, unable to determine if he had imagined it or not.
A note from a woman he dated caught his eye. He would have to arrange for some fun with her tomorrow night if she was free. He finished the brandy and turned his attention to the many emails about the trade debate.
After only three messages, his head pounded and sweat beaded his brow. He pulled his shirt and socks off and resumed reading, hoping the headache would go away if ignored. He sighed in frustration as his hands added shaking to the discomfort. The scrivpad skidded across the coffee table when he rose to his feet.
His com beeped. Who would call him at this late hour? He thought about ignoring it, but snatched it up anyway. “Hello.”
“Ahh, Chancellor Krollin, we’ve terminated your involvement with the secret service.”
The gruff voice did not sound familiar. “Who is this?”
“I’m only the messenger. Goodbye, chancellor. Sleep well.”
He stared at the com for a moment and then his knees gave out. His head hit the coffee table’s edge. He gasped for air. The com lay a couple of feet from his hand. He had to call someone, anyone. He strained to roll over and finally grabbed it. His vision blurred, and he hoped he had pushed the right button for an emergency.
“Yes, Chancellor Krollin?”
Relief flooded him at the sound of the guard’s voice. Fear rushed back when he could only groan. The room spun, and then dark nothing.
Salindra drummed her stylus absently on the desktop. She gazed out the door of her new office. The sounds of crew members working on the bridge flowed in. For now, she needed to feel alone, but be in sight of people she knew.
Her crew had warmed up to her quickly. She had become the big sister of the group, but time would tell if that helped or hindered her leadership role. She had half a dozen men under her that handled all the communication and information systems on the ship.
None of the move proved straightforward, though the AI acclimated to the new system as if returning home after a long trip. It readily helped them integrate the system faster, but stayed on the guard rails programmed into it. They did not want it having the ability to take over on a whim.
It had a repertoire with Claude she had never seen in other machine human interfaces with AI that made her wonder if more lay before the surface that only Stefen and Min knew.
Rajim stopped in the doorway and knocked on the jamb. His lanky form made him look taller than he was, but he was lucky to hit five and a half feet with his shoes on.
“Enter.” She leaned back in her chair, twirling the stylus between her fingers. “Anything new?”
He stepped into the office and held up a scrivpad to scan its display. “I don’t think Krollin’s death was an inside job, even if the message leads one to believe so. Someone in his household staff accepted a bottle of brandy without checking where it came from. There is a drug that causes seizures and would not have caused much of a taste difference in the brandy. It works in just a few minutes and dissolves in the system within thirty minutes.”
He looked up from the scrivpad. “So far, only his guards and us suspect foul play. We know he always gets a fresh bottle of brandy delivered to his apartment the day he knows he will return.”
“Did this bottle come from the same place with no detour on the way there?”
“It did, but the delivery person was not the usual one.” Rajim heaved a sigh and sat down. “The regular delivery man was found this afternoon in a dumpster in a different neighborhood. We acquired a picture of the man who delivered the bottle with some work. He knew how to avoid looking into most of the cameras in the building and most of the block. Facial recognition is in progress.”
“A little too tidy. Let me know when it finds a match.
Rajim stood. “Will do.”
“We have plans on how to use the forced cargo schedule to our advantage?”
“Much of what we need to do now isn’t dependent on where we are in space.”
“Good.” Salindra had figured as much.
Rajim slipped out.
Hawkins leaned against the doorjamb and grinned at her. “You are heading toward eighteen hours of having been in this office or on the bridge. At least someone brought you food, and you ate it.”
Salindra laughed. “I knew you would show up and play daddy.” She stuck her tongue out at him.
“Just making sure you stay functional in all this change. Still plenty to do and complications keep showing up.”
Her humor slithered off at the reminder. Too many uncertainties existed. Claude spent more time in the sickbay on the yacht than anywhere. No surprise there with everything he had gone through, but they had to move him unseen. Krollin’s death made things bleaker.
“I am pretty tired. I’ll probably be back at,” she glanced at her watch in shock, “lunch time. Time flies even when you aren’t having fun.”
“I’ll make sure no one bothers you until after you eat lunch.”
She chuckled. “Now don’t scare my people too much.”
Hawkins put his hand on his chest and feigned shock at her words. He shifted and beckoned for her to leave the office with a slight bow and a wave.
She walked off the bridge and strolled towards her quarters. Her unpacked clothes buried her bed. She could throw them in the sitting room until she got up the next day. Her body screamed for sleep now that it knew she headed for bed.
She rounded a corner and ran into a disheveled Stephen. She grabbed him to keep him from falling over. He mumbled some apology she did not catch. When their eyes met, she felt her heart leap into her throat. The amount of worry she saw made her pull him into a hug, which he accepted by hugging her back.
“Let’s go somewhere private to talk. My place is an utter mess.” She led him that way, anyway. “Just need to toss stuff out of the way.”
“Okay. Mine’s still in two places.” His words came out slow. His arm stayed tight around her waist while they walked.
“Too much going on.” She punched the code in for her quarters and stepped in as soon as the door slid open enough. “Lights.”
The lights flared on to reveal at least the couch had nothing on it. She sat with him.
Stefen remained perched on the edge of the couch. “I’m clueless. Claude’s system isn’t settling like it usually does. Sure, he has some major injuries to recover from, but those wounds are healing as expected.” He plucked at his lower lip as if the answer should be right there. “This could cause his body to either reject the nanobots or have a full shutdown.”
Neither of those sounded good. It had derailed the plan of him going home, officially retiring, and then taking a job running the security of the new business front for the agency.
Her com beeped. “How’d you get Hawkins to allow you to call me Rajim?”
“Ma’am, that is a secret. Let me sum this up quick so he doesn’t impale me with a glare.”
Salindra smiled, picturing that look.
“Someone inside the Goeken network is sniffing around where we were. They blindly passed one of us, so we piggy backed to see what they are up to.” Rajim’s voice took on an excited lilt. “You are going to love this. The secret service over there is trying to sort out the same stuff we are as if they don’t know either. Conrad got reprimanded, but it might be his signature on their internal search. Something doesn’t mesh with all this.
“To top it off, the Goeken Space Association commissioner is openly looking at the latest public information on Claude.”
“Okay. Monitor the commissioner now that he gave you a way in. Use his unhealthy need to know more as a link into his system. Have fun digging around in there and good luck figuring out what that internal Goeken sniffer is up to.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll brief you after lunch.” The connection ended.
She turned her attention back to Stefen to find him slumped on the coach. She carefully removed his glasses, which were askew upon his face, and then slid around to kneel on the floor as she adjusted him more comfortably. He grabbed the pillow tight. Her fingers gently brushed through his short hair. At least the worry had drained from his face in sleep.
She bit her lip. Was Claude’s system crashing? He wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Everything would work out well. It always had so far. She dumped everything on her bed in a corner of the room. She crashed, still fully clothed, without commanding the lights to go out in either room.
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Behind the scenes, I’m having fun rewriting how this pulls together with several pieces I am not including in this version. One of those scenes I totally yanked would have fit between the two in this episode. My floor is about to become littered with scene or snippet cuts, but that is the fun of creating.
Share your thoughts about the episode in the comments. Thank you for reading.