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This is an excerpt from last year's work Akutenshi Noble Blade. It has not been edited from NaNoWriMo 08. Caution! May suck!
Dr. Cobalt breathed hard against the salt in the air and the bitter cold. A thin layer of ice and snow still coated the streets despite the best efforts of the sweeper bots to keep pathways clear. The almost slipped as he stopped to put on his gloves but steadied himself with his cane and kept working.
Every fifty feet down the street a single mild blue light glowed above until terminating into utter darkness a few hundred feet down the walkway. As the doctor made his way into the night the lights blinked on and off in response to his movement. It was a narrow road unsuited to anything but pedestrians, bicycles, and their ilk. Around him the city settled into sleep – powering down as best it could while still coping with the bitter northern winter common to this sub-arctic region.
He was halfway home when his phone rang. The doctor fished it out of his coat pocket. “Hello?” The slender plastic frame was like ice despite his gloves.
“Dr. Cobalt?” The voice on the other end was a gruff male’s.
“Yes, who am I speaking to?”
“We are aware of your scheme doctor. If you hand over the chip quietly there won’t be any trouble for you or your family.”
“Who is this?”
The man on the other end paused, breathing heavily. “The rightful owners of the chip doctor. I will be waiting at Tenth and Penbrook station for the next hour. Don’t force me to track you down doctor. You’re an easy man to find.”
That was the end of the conversation. Before Dr. Cobalt could begin a new question the other man hung up. He stood there holding the phone as light snow began to fall. A sweeper bot brushed against his leg as it zoomed down the street. He watched it go, shivering.
Twenty minutes later he arrived in the station via the podline. It was a small station with no more then ten people total including workers. The arched skylight ceiling was already covered in a film of snow. Dr. Cobalt walked slowly through the plaza looking about from under his hat with a suspicious glare. As he approached the newsstand – customary vid screen black as the stand itself was shut down for the night – a man stepped out of the shadows and approached him.
“You must be the doctor.”
Dr. Cobalt nodded with the barest movement of his head. The stranger was wrapped in a thick fur overcoat with matching cap. The only visible features were his alert, pale-green eyes and the tip of his nose.
“Good,” the stranger continued. “You’re a smart man I see. Now, doctor, what happened to the information stolen from the Matilda database?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The other man grinned. “You’re a decent liar, doctor, but your pulse and breathing both shot up with my question. I’ll only ask one more time. What happened to that information?”
The doctor shook his head. “I don’t have any such data and,” he sneered, “even if I did I certainly wouldn’t give it to someone like you.”
Slowly nodding the stranger reached into his coat and pulled out a slim piece of plastic. “I just want you to know the extend of the trouble you are in Dr. Cobalt.” He handed the doctor the item, which proved to be an identification card, before continuing. “I am Louis Strevenska of I.R.C.I. Several complaints have been leveled against you alleging industrial sabotage, data theft, and conspiracy. These are serious charges that carry a maximum penalty of up to thirty years in prison and a hefty fine. However,” he paused to remove his cap, “the Bureau is willing to show leniency and forget what happened if you cooperate.”
The doctor handed the man his identification back. “I’m sorry Mr. Strevenska but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Me, perform industrial sabotage? You flatter me but I’m a simple archaeologist.”
Leering with an unnatural glow in his eyes Mr. Strevenska studied the doctor in silence. Finally he broke the silence between them. “Your heart rate is still high”
Dr. Cobalt tipped his hat back a bit. “I am an old man. My heart startles easily.”
“I believe the old part.” Mr. Strevenska reached into his coat again. “I’ll have to ask you to come with me doctor.” He deliberately opened the coat wide enough so that Dr. Cobalt could see a pair of firearms – one a small phase blaster and the other a conventional gunpowder weapon – tucked into a holster slung from one shoulder. Then he produced a small device with a thin needle on one end. It was half the size of his hand. The doctor gulped as the agent slipped a tiny chip into the device and readied it.
“No trouble now, right? I wouldn’t want anything bad to befall you.”
Dr. Cobalt’s mind raced with options. He was unarmed. If he bolted for the front door Mr. Strevenska would easily have enough time to fire either of his weapons and in the nearly-deserted station there was no cover to be found. He had heard tales of I.R.C.I. agents killing with impunity, their word held in high enough regard that whatever the circumstances they would emerge from any scandal unscathed with songs of praise from justice personnel about stopping another dread menace to society. The thought made him physically ill.
The doctor blinked and his moment to consider the situation was spent. Mr. Strevenska watched him unflinching. “Your arm doctor.”
Doing as he was ordered the doctor exposed his right forearm. He grimaced with the needle prick then placed two bare fingers from his other hand to stem the tiny red droplets seeping up from his punctured vein. The other man removed the needle from his device and placed it in a small plastic vial that retreated into the hidden pockets under the coat.
“See, that didn’t hurt much now did it? The tag guns have gotten remarkably better in the last decade. Just a little prick and tagging is complete. Now,” he motioned towards the door, “after you.”
The doctor glared with icy blue eyes from under his hat brim but did as he was instructed. He walked with deliberate slowness dreading with each step the cold, solitary darkness outside where no one would see if he met an untimely end. “Mr. Strevenska,” he stumbled for words. “I must profess my innocence. Surely you do not believe that I am capable of the charges leveled against me.”
“I believe a lot of things not the least of which is the capacity for any man to betray those trusting him in the name of self-interest. Every one of them pleads his innocence up until he is shown the mountain of evidence that says otherwise. A few continue but most confess and accept their just punishments. So, doctor, while we walk you have some time to think about how you want to handle this situation. If you continue to lie it will only hurt your family even more.
“Consider,” he stepped up into stride with the doctor, “what your precious daughter will have to go through if her esteemed father is exposed as a traitor to Etol. The ridicule and scorn will follow her for the rest of her life. No matter where she goes there will always be that seed of doubt about just how much she takes after her dear old dad. Surely you don’t want that Doctor Cobalt. She’s a bright young lass with a good future ahead of her. I’d hate to think what a scandal would do to her chances to enter a good school.”
Mr. Strevenska sneered with the snapping leer of a jackal patiently taunting dying prey. “All of this can go away and all it will cost you is a little time and information. If you return the stolen data, intact, and provide the names of your accomplices I’m sure this will all be sorted out as a big misunderstanding and you can get back to your research with all possible haste.”
The two men continued walking the narrow, snow-coated streets of Little York in silence. Mr. Strevenska pulled a stride ahead keeping his eyes fixed forward but ears always on the doctor. Warily the older man watched the scattered individuals filing about the city.
When they stopped by a parked podcar letting passengers off Dr. Cobalt saw his opportunity. He slipped as close to the compact white rail car as he dared without arousing suspicion. Mr. Strevenska whistled impatiently. A woman struggling with her bags glared at him. Dr. Cobalt offered her a hand but she snapped at him and hustled away.
Mr. Strevenska waited for the doctor to board first then followed him to relax into the padded leather seat. What he couldn’t see was that the doctor had a signal override palmed in his left hand. It was a small box of metal and plastic with three simple buttons in different colors. The signal override was a device that was supposed to be restricted solely for use by peace officers. Slowly and carefully the doctor flicked it’s power switch on and prayed it was already set to the right frequency.
He waited for his moment when the car started moving again. Down one block they went, then a second. One button press brought the trip to a screeching halt. Mr. Strevenska snapped to attention. He growled in a thick Thrayan accent, “Damn cheap cars. Always having problems.” Fumbling with the control panel he cursed under his breath. The doctor was about to hit the door release button but Mr. Strevenska beat him to it on the control panel. The younger man gathered himself up and stood. “Well, I guess we walk then.”
Dr. Cobalt deliberately fumbled with his cane. “Oh, my. My knees aren’t what they used to be.”
“Hurry up doctor. My patience wears thin.” The I.R.C.I. agent stepped out into the snow and began tapping the car with his bare hands.
Dr. Cobalt groaned feeling his weary legs unwilling to cooperate. Reaching for the seat rail to pull himself up he felt too late his hand start to slip as the water condensed on his glove denied him his grip. He fell forward into a kneel slamming his chest off the rail and collapsed to one knee on the floor. Heaving the doctor instantly realized he had dropped the override.
Mr. Strevenska initially didn’t register the clang-clang sound as anything but Dr. Cobalt’s cane hitting the floor. He turned his head to see what happened and tapped his foot waiting for his older companion to get to his feet. It was when he realized the doctor was still holding his cane that things clicked. His eyes followed the other gentleman’s hand reaching for the small device on the floor.
“What is that?” Mr. Strevenska stiffened in alarm and began reaching instinctively for his sidearm. The doctor ignored him and lunged for the override. Mr. Strevenska’s optical sensors detected the spike in blood pressure and heart rate. “Put the device down!” he shouted as his weapon’s safety clicked off.
Still lying on the floor Dr. Cobalt sneered and pressed one button with a vindictive deathgrip. All around him the car sprang to life in slow motion. The older man looked up and realized that the I.R.C.I. agent had drawn the firearm and not the blaster. He cursed his poor luck. That was all the time he had to think before a shot rang out then the car lurched forward and continued on it’s route.
For a moment he couldn’t feel the sting. The cold breeze slipping into the car through the bullet hole is what he noticed first. When he started to sit up pain assailed him. A torrent of searing white-hot fire shot up from his back. He was fortunate. Mr. Strevenska had aimed high in his haste and hit him in the abdomen. The doctor took it as a small comfort. Perhaps, he thought, the door had provided just enough deflection to spare his life?
Dr. Cobalt breathed hard against the salt in the air and the bitter cold. A thin layer of ice and snow still coated the streets despite the best efforts of the sweeper bots to keep pathways clear. The almost slipped as he stopped to put on his gloves but steadied himself with his cane and kept working.
Every fifty feet down the street a single mild blue light glowed above until terminating into utter darkness a few hundred feet down the walkway. As the doctor made his way into the night the lights blinked on and off in response to his movement. It was a narrow road unsuited to anything but pedestrians, bicycles, and their ilk. Around him the city settled into sleep – powering down as best it could while still coping with the bitter northern winter common to this sub-arctic region.
He was halfway home when his phone rang. The doctor fished it out of his coat pocket. “Hello?” The slender plastic frame was like ice despite his gloves.
“Dr. Cobalt?” The voice on the other end was a gruff male’s.
“Yes, who am I speaking to?”
“We are aware of your scheme doctor. If you hand over the chip quietly there won’t be any trouble for you or your family.”
“Who is this?”
The man on the other end paused, breathing heavily. “The rightful owners of the chip doctor. I will be waiting at Tenth and Penbrook station for the next hour. Don’t force me to track you down doctor. You’re an easy man to find.”
That was the end of the conversation. Before Dr. Cobalt could begin a new question the other man hung up. He stood there holding the phone as light snow began to fall. A sweeper bot brushed against his leg as it zoomed down the street. He watched it go, shivering.
Twenty minutes later he arrived in the station via the podline. It was a small station with no more then ten people total including workers. The arched skylight ceiling was already covered in a film of snow. Dr. Cobalt walked slowly through the plaza looking about from under his hat with a suspicious glare. As he approached the newsstand – customary vid screen black as the stand itself was shut down for the night – a man stepped out of the shadows and approached him.
“You must be the doctor.”
Dr. Cobalt nodded with the barest movement of his head. The stranger was wrapped in a thick fur overcoat with matching cap. The only visible features were his alert, pale-green eyes and the tip of his nose.
“Good,” the stranger continued. “You’re a smart man I see. Now, doctor, what happened to the information stolen from the Matilda database?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The other man grinned. “You’re a decent liar, doctor, but your pulse and breathing both shot up with my question. I’ll only ask one more time. What happened to that information?”
The doctor shook his head. “I don’t have any such data and,” he sneered, “even if I did I certainly wouldn’t give it to someone like you.”
Slowly nodding the stranger reached into his coat and pulled out a slim piece of plastic. “I just want you to know the extend of the trouble you are in Dr. Cobalt.” He handed the doctor the item, which proved to be an identification card, before continuing. “I am Louis Strevenska of I.R.C.I. Several complaints have been leveled against you alleging industrial sabotage, data theft, and conspiracy. These are serious charges that carry a maximum penalty of up to thirty years in prison and a hefty fine. However,” he paused to remove his cap, “the Bureau is willing to show leniency and forget what happened if you cooperate.”
The doctor handed the man his identification back. “I’m sorry Mr. Strevenska but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Me, perform industrial sabotage? You flatter me but I’m a simple archaeologist.”
Leering with an unnatural glow in his eyes Mr. Strevenska studied the doctor in silence. Finally he broke the silence between them. “Your heart rate is still high”
Dr. Cobalt tipped his hat back a bit. “I am an old man. My heart startles easily.”
“I believe the old part.” Mr. Strevenska reached into his coat again. “I’ll have to ask you to come with me doctor.” He deliberately opened the coat wide enough so that Dr. Cobalt could see a pair of firearms – one a small phase blaster and the other a conventional gunpowder weapon – tucked into a holster slung from one shoulder. Then he produced a small device with a thin needle on one end. It was half the size of his hand. The doctor gulped as the agent slipped a tiny chip into the device and readied it.
“No trouble now, right? I wouldn’t want anything bad to befall you.”
Dr. Cobalt’s mind raced with options. He was unarmed. If he bolted for the front door Mr. Strevenska would easily have enough time to fire either of his weapons and in the nearly-deserted station there was no cover to be found. He had heard tales of I.R.C.I. agents killing with impunity, their word held in high enough regard that whatever the circumstances they would emerge from any scandal unscathed with songs of praise from justice personnel about stopping another dread menace to society. The thought made him physically ill.
The doctor blinked and his moment to consider the situation was spent. Mr. Strevenska watched him unflinching. “Your arm doctor.”
Doing as he was ordered the doctor exposed his right forearm. He grimaced with the needle prick then placed two bare fingers from his other hand to stem the tiny red droplets seeping up from his punctured vein. The other man removed the needle from his device and placed it in a small plastic vial that retreated into the hidden pockets under the coat.
“See, that didn’t hurt much now did it? The tag guns have gotten remarkably better in the last decade. Just a little prick and tagging is complete. Now,” he motioned towards the door, “after you.”
The doctor glared with icy blue eyes from under his hat brim but did as he was instructed. He walked with deliberate slowness dreading with each step the cold, solitary darkness outside where no one would see if he met an untimely end. “Mr. Strevenska,” he stumbled for words. “I must profess my innocence. Surely you do not believe that I am capable of the charges leveled against me.”
“I believe a lot of things not the least of which is the capacity for any man to betray those trusting him in the name of self-interest. Every one of them pleads his innocence up until he is shown the mountain of evidence that says otherwise. A few continue but most confess and accept their just punishments. So, doctor, while we walk you have some time to think about how you want to handle this situation. If you continue to lie it will only hurt your family even more.
“Consider,” he stepped up into stride with the doctor, “what your precious daughter will have to go through if her esteemed father is exposed as a traitor to Etol. The ridicule and scorn will follow her for the rest of her life. No matter where she goes there will always be that seed of doubt about just how much she takes after her dear old dad. Surely you don’t want that Doctor Cobalt. She’s a bright young lass with a good future ahead of her. I’d hate to think what a scandal would do to her chances to enter a good school.”
Mr. Strevenska sneered with the snapping leer of a jackal patiently taunting dying prey. “All of this can go away and all it will cost you is a little time and information. If you return the stolen data, intact, and provide the names of your accomplices I’m sure this will all be sorted out as a big misunderstanding and you can get back to your research with all possible haste.”
The two men continued walking the narrow, snow-coated streets of Little York in silence. Mr. Strevenska pulled a stride ahead keeping his eyes fixed forward but ears always on the doctor. Warily the older man watched the scattered individuals filing about the city.
When they stopped by a parked podcar letting passengers off Dr. Cobalt saw his opportunity. He slipped as close to the compact white rail car as he dared without arousing suspicion. Mr. Strevenska whistled impatiently. A woman struggling with her bags glared at him. Dr. Cobalt offered her a hand but she snapped at him and hustled away.
Mr. Strevenska waited for the doctor to board first then followed him to relax into the padded leather seat. What he couldn’t see was that the doctor had a signal override palmed in his left hand. It was a small box of metal and plastic with three simple buttons in different colors. The signal override was a device that was supposed to be restricted solely for use by peace officers. Slowly and carefully the doctor flicked it’s power switch on and prayed it was already set to the right frequency.
He waited for his moment when the car started moving again. Down one block they went, then a second. One button press brought the trip to a screeching halt. Mr. Strevenska snapped to attention. He growled in a thick Thrayan accent, “Damn cheap cars. Always having problems.” Fumbling with the control panel he cursed under his breath. The doctor was about to hit the door release button but Mr. Strevenska beat him to it on the control panel. The younger man gathered himself up and stood. “Well, I guess we walk then.”
Dr. Cobalt deliberately fumbled with his cane. “Oh, my. My knees aren’t what they used to be.”
“Hurry up doctor. My patience wears thin.” The I.R.C.I. agent stepped out into the snow and began tapping the car with his bare hands.
Dr. Cobalt groaned feeling his weary legs unwilling to cooperate. Reaching for the seat rail to pull himself up he felt too late his hand start to slip as the water condensed on his glove denied him his grip. He fell forward into a kneel slamming his chest off the rail and collapsed to one knee on the floor. Heaving the doctor instantly realized he had dropped the override.
Mr. Strevenska initially didn’t register the clang-clang sound as anything but Dr. Cobalt’s cane hitting the floor. He turned his head to see what happened and tapped his foot waiting for his older companion to get to his feet. It was when he realized the doctor was still holding his cane that things clicked. His eyes followed the other gentleman’s hand reaching for the small device on the floor.
“What is that?” Mr. Strevenska stiffened in alarm and began reaching instinctively for his sidearm. The doctor ignored him and lunged for the override. Mr. Strevenska’s optical sensors detected the spike in blood pressure and heart rate. “Put the device down!” he shouted as his weapon’s safety clicked off.
Still lying on the floor Dr. Cobalt sneered and pressed one button with a vindictive deathgrip. All around him the car sprang to life in slow motion. The older man looked up and realized that the I.R.C.I. agent had drawn the firearm and not the blaster. He cursed his poor luck. That was all the time he had to think before a shot rang out then the car lurched forward and continued on it’s route.
For a moment he couldn’t feel the sting. The cold breeze slipping into the car through the bullet hole is what he noticed first. When he started to sit up pain assailed him. A torrent of searing white-hot fire shot up from his back. He was fortunate. Mr. Strevenska had aimed high in his haste and hit him in the abdomen. The doctor took it as a small comfort. Perhaps, he thought, the door had provided just enough deflection to spare his life?
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