Connor Rix Chronicles 1: Rules of Force (18 page)

Rix darted to
one side but not in time to completely miss the hulking shoulder of Vinicius as
he charged past. Still, he managed to shoot out a kick that tripped the larger
man and sent him stumbling into the wall. The impact cracked the mortar between
the bricks and rattled the windows above. More of the loose bricks from where the
pump had passed through the wall tumbled outside.

Vinicius shook
his head as he got up but immediately leaped over the rubble, a crouching jump
eight feet in the air that closed the fifteen-foot distance to Rix in the space
of a heartbeat.

This time Rix was
ready. As Vinicius landed, Rix connected with an uppercut that that snapped his
opponent's head back. It was his first contact with Vinicius' scaly skin, and
at once Rix realized why his tranq bolt had bounced off the man. His skin was
hard, like a shell. Rix had never encountered such a Modification before, and
suddenly it clicked into place why Vinicius had risked so much to steal the
Open Sky formulas. He'd concocted his own bulletproof skin, or something very
much like it.

Vinicius took
two steps backward and wiped away a drop of blood that had rolled down his lip.
"That was a good punch," he said, breaking into a smile. "It
should have broken your hand. So there is more to you than —"

Rix lashed out
with a hard jab to the man's mouth before he could continue his speech. Rix was
beginning to feel the stirrings of his adrenal Mod taking over, a rising tide
of ferocity spreading throughout his mind and body. His awareness of his
surroundings, his evaluation of his foe, was coming into a cold hyper focus. As
he circled around Vinicius, he moved with a quickness he never felt in his
normal life, even with all his other Modifications working in tandem. The
"fight or fight" Modification was taking over. It was like another
person awakening inside him, a berserker, a being of pure rage. Ever since he
had undergone the procedure years ago he had had to suppress it, harness it,
only let it loose in short bursts.

This time, he
would not even try to control it.

Rix was a blur
of motion as he rained concussive blows upon Vinicius. Through the fog of anger
he read Vinicius' surprise, his shock at the change that had come over his
enemy. Rix redoubled his efforts. He perceived each of his punches as a weapon
intended not just to connect with his foe, but to pass through his body and
obliterate. Each blow Rix landed reverberated through his unbreakable skeleton.

In almost no
time the hyper-focus he had briefly achieved shattered and his powers of reason
were swamped. He realized he was not as strong as Vinicius and it infuriated
him. When each of his blows failed to destroy the man he screamed at him in
red-blooded anger. When Vinicius landed a punch in response, the rage Rix felt
almost blinded him.

Rix had no idea
how much time had passed, but slowly, gradually, he felt the anger loosen its
grip on his mind. He was dimly aware that Vinicius was still standing but
barely so. The man was bloodied, and staggered backward as he attempted to
counter Rix's moves. Rix looked down at his own hands and bleeding knuckles and
saw that his veins were glowing red, the biochemical marker that monitored his
adrenalin levels. He vaguely remembered that glowing veins was a built-in sign
his body was in dangerous territory.

Rix advanced on
Vinicius slowly. The large man backed up cautiously into a corner. Jumbled
thoughts bounced through Rix's mind. He tried to order his thoughts, but it was
still like grasping at shadows.

Hide in the
corner. Yes. I will beat you there. The corner. The southwest corner. The
southwest corner is where you will fall. There was… I had… I had a backup plan
for the southwest corner of this room.

And then he
heard it, the sound that cleared his mind and brought him back to the present
moment — the sound of a quivering rattle.

Vinicius heard
it too, but seemed not to grasp the meaning of the incongruous sound, a sound
torn from all context, a sound that had no business being on the third floor of
an old brewery. He turned part-way to look behind him, and saw what he thought
was the coil of a fat hose underneath a dusty piece of vintage brewing
equipment.

But the hose was
moving.

In the time it
took for his brain to process that information, the rattlesnake struck, a dark
nightmare ripping free from the shadows. The serpent buried its fangs into
Vinicius' calf, breaking through the man's hardened skin.

He cried out,
and Rix could see the confused expression in Cunha's eyes, bafflement mixed
with hatred, the surprise of a man who had never been physically bested but
suddenly knowing for sure that the time had come.

The snake hung
on as Vinicius kicked out his leg, then released after three seconds and
tumbled to the floor. Rix watched warily as Caroline slithered back to her spot
in the corner where he had placed the "snake-nip," as Jonathan and
Young-Soo had called it. They had assured him that snake would stay close to
the tray of special liquid nutrient mix they had concocted, but best not to
count on that.

Vinicius ran,
half stumbling, from the corner where the snake had struck from the darkness.
He was half-way across the room when he collapsed on all fours. His arms shook
as he tried to hold himself up. At last he slumped to the floor and was
motionless.

Rix shakily
followed the man and then sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of his
fallen foe. He watched the man's final struggles to push himself upright. Rix
felt like he might have to lie down himself.

"If it
makes you feel any better, Vinicius, I'll admit that I underestimated
you," Rix said softly. "But you too are guilty of underestimating the
forces aligned against you. There are a lot more changes taking place in the
world than just our little corner of the muscle-building trade.

"Take
Caroline, there, for example. You just met her. She's been genetically
engineered. Believe it or not, it was all done as a hobby by a couple of tech
guys I know. Can you believe it? Gene-splicing an eight-foot rattlesnake just
to see if it works? It's a crazy old world and that's a fact.

"But the
good news for you is that the venom in this snake no longer kills. Sure, it's
still a neurotoxin, but it mostly results in temporary paralysis, not death. I
asked the geniuses one time why they were playing with the blood and guts of
rattlesnakes, and they gave me some logical-sounding talk about developing new
antivenin drugs, and pain blockers, and perhaps bioengineering an entirely new
species of rattlesnake that can't actually kill anyone. Saving lives and all
that.

"But does
that give you a flavor for the times we live in? When people can alter the very
nature of
rattlesnakes?
There has to be
a thousand other guys — tens of thousands maybe — working on things
just like this, and we'll never know about it until it's already done. Just
like with the trade in Modifications for people. Do you know that Open Sky now
has
thousands
of people working
regularly in space? Those people are being gradually Modified to be able to
withstand that environment. Do you realize what that means? We already have
people in space being altered into a different type of human being, a type of
person that will be able to go anywhere humans want to go in this galaxy."

Rix felt himself
swaying slightly, his exertions having drained the last of his reserves.
"I know some of this will have horrifying consequences," he said in a
whisper. "It will make this world unrecognizable to us today. But here's
the thing, Vinicius — I happen to believe it will be for the better.
People will be stronger, faster, they'll live longer and be able to achieve
things that earlier humans could never have achieved.
I want to see those
days come to pass.
"

He watched
Vinicius' eyes for a long minute, trying to see if there was any reaction.

"But to
make it all happen, people like you have to be
stopped
. You'll poison the well for all of this. Your
brutality will turn public opinion against Modifications, and you'll bring down
the wrath of governments around the world on all of us. Believe me, they'd like
to control all of it, forever."

He laid down on
the dusty wood floors, lacking the strength to sit up any longer.

"So that's
why, Vinicius, your future is not going to be quite as you had planned. The
future for the human race, however, is wide open."

20

Rix sank back in
the seat, listening to the hum of the jet engines. He hoped he would be able to
get some sleep before the plane landed in Las Cruces, but he wasn't optimistic.

He opened one
eye and saw the Open Sky security man look away quickly. They tried not to
stare at his bruised face, but not all of them could resist.

He called up on
his optics the note Marie had left and prepared and read it one more time
behind closed eyelids. It had shown up in his personal message file late that
night, after they had already delivered Vinicius and his men, bound like
mummies, to the hanger that Rohm had designated for holding. Rohm had fifty
security people on the premises waiting for the captives.

Rix, Big Fella
and KC had gone back to Rix's garage quarters for a brief clean-up and meal.
Rix had thrown together a travel bag for the trip to Open Sky headquarters, but
they had decided that Big and KC would stay at Rix's place and check for any
loose ends, and wait for Marie to arrive. At least that was the story. As Rix
was leaving, he saw KC snuggling up against Big Fella, her hand clasped in his.

"If
anything comes up, we'll let you know," she had said. "Trust me,
we'll be up all night."

But Marie, of
course, would not be arriving. Rix received her message as he was boarding the
plane.

He reread it
again.

My Dearest
Connor,

I am so sorry
to do this now, right when you need everyone on your side the most. But I've
done my part, what little I can, and I trust that you've been able to take care
of the Brazilians. I've never known anyone like you, Connor, and I know you can
handle these people.

But I'm
afraid I cannot.

I'm leaving.

I've wanted
to be strong, Connor. I wanted to stand by you through all of it, and see
things the way you see them.

But I never
wanted to be fighting all the time, always looking over my shoulder, always
preparing for some conflict. I finally had to face the truth — this is
the kind of life we would build if I married you. There was really no other
outcome. It comes naturally to you. You revel in it. You're good at it.

But me, I'm
not made that way. Connor, I will always love you for the way you picked me up
and gave me my life back after the war. When my brother was taken away, I felt
so much anger, and helplessness. You built me back up, showed me my potential,
and opened my eyes to possibilities I never imagined.

Even with all
that, however, I'm still not entirely sure all these
 
Modifications are good for people. I look at myself
sometimes and don't recognize who I see. And then I look out at these other
people, the ones you chase, and I've seen what all the Modifications lead to.
I've seen how it twists people.

I can't live
that life.

I'm sorry,
Connor.

I love you.

He had tried
calling her, but all the contact channels had been closed. He
 
called Big Fella, and he and KC
confirmed that all her possessions had been removed. They hadn't even noticed
it when they had stumbled into his home earlier, as weary and battered as they
had been.

He looked out
the small window of the aircraft. Distant lights drifted below in the lonely
desert.

She was gone.

****

Rix sat across
the desk from Rohm. Dawn was breaking over the desert, and he could see the
purple light growing warmer through the panoramic window behind the enigmatic
owner of Open Sky.

"I'd like
to know what you're going to do with him. I think I've earned that right."

Rohm leaned back
in his elegant leather chair. He looked out the window. Rix found it amusing
that Rohm, too, like his security team, did not want to look directly at Rix's
bruised face any more than was necessary.

"You
have," he said, and paused. "But before I tell you, there is more
information you need to know. The justice I have planned will not sound…
proportional… if you do not know all the facts."

He sighed and
crossed his arms. "Most people have not grasped the implications of our
ability to modify human physiology so radically. This street-level trade in
muscle-building with which you are so familiar is the least of the
possibilities, the narrowest potential.

"Perhaps
you have noticed the webbing on the back of my neck? It is not some
affectation, Mr. Rix." He stood and faced the window, looking out on the
small city he had created, the Open Sky empire. The flare from a rocket
launching lit the morning like a second sun, spreading a warm glow throughout
the office.

"Just as
people have taken the recent advances in bio-engineering and transformed
themselves into superhumanly strong individuals, so have some of us harnessed
the new techniques to enhance our cognitive abilities. I, and a group of
like-minded associates, have taken the lead in this area. We have boosted our
intelligence to levels previously not seen in human history.

"This net
you see under the skin on my neck is an exocortex. In brief, it is a series of
processors and memory caches that is linked directly to my brain. The amount of
information I can retain and process has tripled thanks to this little bit of
cyborg hardware.

"There is
more, of course. Just as people such as yourself have benefited from new
generations of steroids and blood doping techniques, so have my associates and
I benefited from a new generation of nootropics." He turned back toward
Rix with the hint of a smile on his face. "Brain steroids, if you
will."

The brief smile
vanished, and a look of sadness overcame him. "There were eight of us,
each of us dedicated to some area of science or technology that would quickly
advance the human race and guide it down a constructive path. My own field of
specialty you know. It was decided that at least some of us should work on our
projects in the open. Since my own passion is spaceflight and developing the
resources of our solar system, it was an easy decision. You can hardly launch
rockets and mine asteroids in secret.

"My other
associates work in other areas. One is developing molecule-sized robots that
can break down industrial pollution into harmless component elements. Another
is on a grand quest to enhance early childhood nutrition in some of the lost
corners of the world, and thus nudge global mean IQ a bit higher."

He fell silent.

"You
mentioned there were eight of you," Rix said quietly. "Past
tense."

"Yes. My
great friend Allen Venway was one of the eight. He was the most brilliant of us
all, with the most far-reaching vision. And Vinicius Cunha killed him."

Rix waited for
Rohm to continue.

His face
hardened into a mask of anguish. "Cunha's crime is almost unspeakably
evil. Do you know what Allen's specialty was? What kind of projects he was
working on?"

Rohm told him.

Rix was silent
for a long moment.

"I had no
idea we were that far along."

"We would
not have been a fraction this far along without Allen. And his work is
unfinished. Even I struggle with the concepts involved. There may not be
another human being on Earth who can pick up his work and complete it."

Rohm sat wearily
in his chair. "His punishment should be commensurate with his crime.
Therefore I have devised a singularly unique punishment."

He slid a large,
flat E-Thing across the table. Rix picked it up and started reading. It was a
detailed outline of the exotic manner in which Vinicius Cunha was to be
executed.

Rix put down the
E-Thing and said nothing for several minutes. He slowly got up and walked over
to Rohm's side of the desk and stopped by the window, watching the bustling
spaceport below. "For all the leading-edge technology involved, for all
the resources and brainpower that has gone into this, it's still nothing more
than vigilante justice. People would have recognized it as such in this very
land 200 years ago," he said, nodding to the dry landscape beyond the
glass.

"I have
obviously considered this," Rohm said testily. "I see it from another
perspective. People are being remade in new ways. We are becoming greater as a
species — trans-human was the term in fashion once. Many of the old rules
made for more primitive times will not apply. The potential crimes are greater,
and the potential punishments should match. And in this matter, I will not wait
for trailing societies to catch up."

He eyed Rix,
trying to gauge his reaction. "You have had to make a difficult choice
before, Mr. Rix, regarding which side to take when a great nation tore itself
apart. But the world is not finished changing. It is time once again to choose
a side."

Rix looked the
strange man in the eye. "Once I agreed to catch Vinicius Cunha and turn
him over to you I made my choice. Now I just have to live with it."