Wildcard (27 page)

Once the q-parcel was inside the alarm
system, it performed a code wrap. It became the current security
code and the other signal become the mirror image at the same
second. All Trident had to do was reverse the exterior Q-parcel
code and the Sergeant was inside the inner compound. The system did
fight, in a way, but Trident isolated it so that it could not
communicate outside. He deleted the system, then reinstalled it
with a few key differences. No one noticed, because he reinstalled
from the company. It was a clever plan, partially because it
depended on some old techniques, which Pleaides would probably not
suspect. They were too obvious.

The Sergeant stowed away for three days, in
Nefario’s closet. The beauty of the plan was in the simplicity.
Trident and the Sergeant had researched the close protection team
and found a man who resembled the Sergeant. He watched when they
dispatched the team, and knew where his man would go. He was
waiting, and killed the man with a single, silent throat strike.
The man never saw him.

He changed clothes and came to the door. He
had learned all their signals, and gave the all-clear, a sideways
fist with thumb and pinky extended. He stepped back in. A bit
unusual, but he didn’t think it would raise an alarm. When they
checked in, Trident disguised his voice and he played it minimal.
One word answers, no questions.

An hour later, Nefario’s train arrived. The
next part was simple. The Sergeant just walked into Nefario’s
bathroom while he was pissing. He could not use weapons because the
autonomous defense system would neutralize everyone in the inner
compound if it sensed a drawn weapon. The system was an isolate,
impenetrable to Trident. Hack-proof because it was pretty dumb.
Single-function.

“Yes?” Nefario sounded irritated at being
interrupted.

“Want to go for a ride?”

The Sergeant had studied the command
patterns of the man and knew he would prefer to chew someone out,
rather than contact the team leader. Trident created a sonic fold,
cutting off sound and outside coms. Nefario realized the Sergeant
was not one of his men and attacked. The Sergeant was impressed
with the man’s fighting skill. It took him four strikes to
penetrate. He did it with a feint to the face, combined with a
bounce step and a sharp in-kick at 45 degrees to Nefario’s left
knee. The knee broke with a soft popping noise and Nefario began
screaming. The sonic fold held. The Sergeant rendered Nefario
unconscious by punching him in both temples at once.

He had a duffle bag full of ‘tools’. He
removed Nefario’s legs with a cauterizing nanofilament saw that
Trident created so that the rest of him would fit into the bag. He
left the legs and tools lying under Nefario’s bed and carried out
the bag with its grisly contents. He got into one of the vehicles
and Trident made a key out of nano-filament. The guard stopped him
on his way out of the gate. He looked at him funny.

“Goin’ out for beer. We’re gonna play poker
later,” the Sergeant said. “You want anything? Be back in a few
hours.”

“Yeah, bring back some women.” They laughed.
“Maybe vodka?”

“Sure thing,” said the Sergeant. He drove
away.

She disappeared after that. Kept Nefario
alive for years, hidden. She created the mystique, the Benefactor.
She would be a Benefactor to the world, offering the Manufactured
Entity, and Nefario’s end. She spread the rumor that the Benefactor
was a man, took great pains to disguise any connection she had with
the name.

Nefario took his own vengeance. A
retro-virus, easily prevented by the vaccine he had taken, but
incurable otherwise. He spit on her during torture, and she began
to decay soon afterwards.

She briefly considered hiring Pleiades after
the capture, but she did not know if he had hidden loyalties, and
decided against it. She had nothing against the man, and felt sure
he had nothing to do with the killings. So, she didn't kill him.
She didn’t hire him, either.

Instead, she created the Mechanic. He was
more balanced. Defense and offense in equal measure. Unlike the
General whose defensive strategy was the best defense is a
crippling offense.

She tortured Nefario frequently.

She was wielding the instruments herself.
Drills, knives, skin-peelers. Nefario was a disfigured pulp, his
face gone. His screams were bubbly with blood, and he passed out.
She put down the instruments, turned and looked at the camera.

“He is still alive.”

She stepped forward, her face filling the
world.

“And so am I.”

Karl was torn about entering Mansworld.
Powerful forces wanted him to go. He thought he would live, but
wondered how much it would change him. He contacted some people for
advice.

Dartagnan emphatically said Yes.

RJ was on-board. “I like to roll the dice.
It creates interesting possibilities for everyone.” Dartagnan
agreed to put him in touch with :3:.

“Should I go to Mansworld?

“No. Yes.” Equations. :3: was useless. He
was just a train to catch.

The General wanted him to go, but would not
say so outright. He couldn’t understand why, though. Possibly it
was important that he make the choice on his own. He knew the
Benefactor wanted him in, which probably was an argument
against.

He might be able to meet Martha again,
somehow. But that made no sense at all. That was impossible,
surely. How could he possibly see her again by crossing into
Mansworld?

LuvRay was out of contact. But he knew what
LuvRay would say. “I am not know. It no feel strong, but maybe you
are no choice.”

Seeker was desperate to switch.

The Sergeant was sitting on the edge of a
weightlifting bench, shirtless, with a small towel around his neck
when Karl vid-phoned. He was doing one handed curls.

“It’s Karl. What am I getting myself
into?”

“I don’t know. Tell me what you’re thinking
about doing.”

“Same situation as a week ago, going into
Mansworld. I’m thinking about trading places with someone called
Seeker.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Why did you ask?”

“I thought I might find some help in your
phrasing. I didn’t. Are you asking me from tactics or
strategy?”

“Tactics, I suppose. I’m not really a
strategy man. How will I operate in there? What will it be
like?”

“I have a Mansworld
simulator. I use it all the time. Want to try
it?”

“No.” Karl drew the word out, pondering. “I
don’t think so. Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“You probably don’t want your perceptions
skewed in advance. Smart, actually. It might teach you something
wrong. Let’s take stock. What do we know? Martha. How do you read
that?” He wanted Karl to go in, but could not make the decision for
him. It had to be completely voluntary. No manipulation, or the
exchange would not work. It was very difficult to prevent subtle
manipulation. Perhaps it formed part of the game of Wildcard, to
teach the players something about the way they operated.

“Taken by the Benefactor. Lost for
good?”

“Wrong, I can hear it in
your voice. You think you can find her somehow by going into
Mansworld
.
Am I
right?”

“I suppose so.”

“More reasons. You want to help Seeker?”

“Not particularly. A little, but it wouldn’t
tip the scales.”

“You’re just plain interested, aren’t
you?”

“Yes.”

“But still some other reason.”

“Yes.”

“Why do you want to go to Mansworld,
Karl?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why do you want to go to Mansworld, Karl?
ANSWER ME!”

“Loyalty,” Karl blurted out. “Wow, nice
trick. How did you do that?”

“
Force subconscious non-volitional
response.
Cool. I wondered if it
would work. Hmm. Loyalty. To whom?”

“I don’t know.”

“I can’t make much sense of that.”

“Donnez-moi votre motive,” the General
commanded.

“Changements.” He paused. “Change. That
sounds right.”

“That’s Wildcard’s motive too,” the Sergeant
said.

“Non, pas vrais.
His motive is to learn and
teach
.” The General spoke French when he
discussed a player’s motivation or policy. He said he could not
quite capture the essence in English. It never sounded like what he
intended to express.

“So what does that tell us, chief?”

“It is to say that Karl will cause change to
occur, but first he must learn the way in which this world he is
entering changes.”

“Karl,” said the Sergeant, “have you heard
of wildspace?”

“Yes.”

“The Space Between?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No. Sort of. The Space Between is a part of
wildspace. There are also other things out there. We have very
little intel on either.”

“Do you think I’ll go there for some
reason?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me. The General and I
have talked about it quite a bit. I think you have helped his
understanding with the ‘change’ answer. But it hasn’t helped mine
much. There is more intrigue in Mansworld than in the human
world.”

“More? How could that possibly be?”

“It could. Many people here live ordinary
lives. Not many Mans do.”

“What does the General say about my going
in?”

The Sergeant didn’t answer right away. He
was waiting to see if the General wanted to, part of their unspoken
protocol. If the General wanted to weigh in, he would. If not,
don’t ask, but answer for him.

“‘The crossing of L’Innocent brings great
promise and great peril,’ ” The Sergeant said. “Only he said it in
frog-speak. Poetic, huh?”

“Sounds like it captures the essence.”

“He also said it could bring a policy
change. A big deal for him.”

“Policy change?”

“Policy. What strategy works toward. The
level above strategy. A policy might be to prevent immigration, for
example. A strategy would be to make sure they have no jobs, or to
patrol the border, or passing laws to behead the illegals. You
understand?”

“Sure, it makes sense. What would the policy
change be for the General?”

“Wouldn’t tell you if I knew.”

The Mechanic had business with the
Benefactor, who was in Martha’s body now, but still incoherent.
Something was moving in the game, with Karl. He needed to find out
what and make plans. He had been tracking the reprogramming,
perhaps too closely, and let the watch on the rest of the game
slip. It might not be a terrible mistake, but he needed to speak to
her.

She was in limbo, all the action going on
inside. Her memory was spotty and vacant, still coming forth. She
watched the movie, up to several days now, in 8 hour blocks, and
slept for 16 hours at a time. Martha’s intense disorientation would
be creating the tone for the entire psyche, according to the
Doctor. But the Mechanic could not see that. All he could see was
his need to move on something and her null-state. He knew Karl was
hidden, probably in plain sight, as he was so good at.

He contacted Dartagnan, who dropped hints
about the box and its importance and how Karl was going to help
find it. Perhaps they could work together. But Dartagnan danced
around the issue. The Mechanic looked elsewhere. He could sense the
overall motion increasing, the relative confusion becoming more
pronounced to match. He urgently needed to get the Benefactor back
in the game. He needed to monitor her progress, as well, and could
not spare too much time for the information hunt.

He contacted some agents to ferret out
information for him. They received instructions to keep it secret.
He wanted to maintain the element of surprise. Everyone knew the
Benefactor was dead, but they could count on the Doctor’s
discretion about the reprogramming. No one knew.

He called the Doctor.

“I need the process to be complete.
Asap.”

“What does asap mean?”

“As soon as possible. Now, really. Something
is happening and I need her.”

“Hmm. All right. It will be dangerous, but I
can get her out now.”

“Dangerous how?”

“Risk of madness, primarily. The
post-traumatic stress disorder has been insufficiently sealed
off.”

“How would you seal it off more?”

“She needs to sleep. A great deal.”

“She has been. Weeks. Get her up. She’s
tough, I don’t think she’ll go crazy.”

“Whatever is in there is not the Benefactor,
per se. This being is adjusting to a new body, and having a dual
consciousness.”

“What’s the procedure?”

“A stimulant I developed. It is very hard on
the body, but it will bring her awake and keep her awake for as
long as you like. I recommend at most 12 hours, then 12 hours
sleep. She could possibly handle such a cycle. Three days of it, no
more.”

“Do it.”

The robotic machine inside the room moved
into life, arms swiveling for no apparent reason. The robot opened
a large metal cabinet stuffed full of chemicals, syringes, and
medical apparatus. After finding what it needed, it held her arm in
a rigid lock. She noticed it, finally, and began screaming, trying
to fight it off. It put out a third arm, pinning her to the bed.
The injection brought her to immediate clarity.

“Where am I?”

“You are in the Benefactor’s quarters,” the
doctor’s voice said from the robot. “Do you know who you are?”

“I am…No, I don’t know.”

“Mechanic, please enter the room.”

She saw him, and a vague recognition came to
her eyes. “The Mechanic. You work for me.”

“Tell her who she is,” the Doctor said. “She
needs to hear it from you.”

“You are the Benefactor.”

She grabbed her head, wincing.