Connor Rix Chronicles 1: Rules of Force (9 page)

His assailant
presented himself a fraction of a second later, diving through the fresh hole
in the wall. He tucked into a roll and popped up in one smooth motion, attacking
Mr. Blue with a flurry of kicks and punches. Mr. Blue stayed a step ahead of
the man — barely — deflecting or barely dodging most of the blows.

So the head
bohla has hired a real bodyguard,
Vinicius
judged, watching the unexpected newcomer
tear into his top man. He wasn't really concerned; Blue was as good a fighter
as could be found on the planet, and second only to Vinicius in the number of
Modifications in his arsenal. And sure enough, within seconds Blue was turning
the fight around in his favor.

Still —
what a fighter this new man was! His moves were so fast, so fluid! It was rare
to see someone who could fight blow-for-blow against one of his top men.
 
A shame we will have to kill him. He
would make a good addition to my organization.

He wavered for a
moment, considering whether he should shout out an offer for this man, convince
him to join Vinicius' organization before he was surely killed. But as he
watched the combat continue, Vinicius calculated that anyone with such fighting
skills would have to have a fearsome reputation somewhere, among some group.
His corpse piled with the others would send the sort of powerful message he
wanted to send.

Vinicius' other
men were looking to him uncertainly, not sure if they should shoot the
bodyguard or rush him
en masse
. He waved
off the men. He would let Blue finish this.

The bodyguard
was clearly the faster of the two men, and Blue absorbed more punches as he
awaited an opening. But Vinicius had seen his man fight on several occasions,
and knew that he was reacting more slowly than he was capable of, trying to
draw the man in close.

The bodyguard
pressed his perceived advantage, throwing a roundhouse kick to Mr. Blue's head,
which connected but not fully. Vinicius could see the man's eyes searching as
he spun through his kick, trying to locate and count his remaining opponents.

He should not
have taken that fraction of a second of attention off his foe. Blue grabbed the
man's arm, pulled him in close, and delivered a traditional boxing uppercut
that snapped the man's head back and buckled his knees. Before the man could
recover, Blue wrapped his large hands around the man's head and twisted with
all his strength. The squelching crack of the man's neck rose over every other
sound.

Vinicius smiled.
What a magnificent battle
.

He turned to his
men. "Now let us see who else is in there. I don't think we've seen the
top man yet."

Vinicius climbed
the three steps up into the trailer, stepping over the dead bodies of the men
who had been dropped by his enforcer's flechette gun. He grinned theatrically
and called out into the interior.

"Good day
señor! I have come to discuss a new business arrangement!"

A high-pitched,
nearly hysterical voice answered from deeper inside the office trailer. “So
you've taken care of my men. Good for you, másculo!" A small figure,
freakish in appearance, rose up from behind a desk and aimed a large-caliber
revolver at Vinicius. "Are you bulletproof too?”

Vinicius blinked
his optics into zoom mode and tightened focus on the gun in the man's hand. The
action was nearly too late — as the gun filled his vision he could see
the man's grip tighten, his arm bracing for the recoil. Vinicius reacted
instinctively, aided by amplified adrenal glands, turning partially sideways,
away from the man's aim.

The shot echoed
off the close walls of the interior.

Vinicius felt a
burning impact. He staggered and fell to all fours, clutching his chest.

He felt a brief
moment of panic…
It is not my time!
And
then with his right hand he groped across his roughly textured chest and
abdomen. He sucked in his breath as he found a patch of his chest that had gone
numb — yet there was no blood. His heart was hammering from the
adrenaline dumped into his bloodstream. He looked down and saw a torn section
of his shirt and a mark across his chest where the grazing shot had made
contact. There should have been a horrible gaping wound, but there was only a
rising welt and the blotchy early stages of a serious bruise.

No, it really
isn't my time,
he realized within the space
of a few seconds.
This new Modification works!
It was just as the traitorous Open Sky researcher
had predicted: The company's breakthrough treatment that fortified the layers
of human skin against the hard radiation of space, combined with the greatly
increased muscle mass that was possible with the newest-generation B3 steroids,
could allow a man to withstand and survive even
weapons fire.
He was nearly invulnerable.

And I am the
first!

Vinicius looked
up. The smile on the shooter’s face faded.

He stood, and
looked the strange man in the eyes. His grin was almost a snarl. “Why, yes,
actually. I think I am bulletproof.”

With explosive
speed he smacked the gun out of the man's hand. Then he grabbed him by his
loose shirt and pulled him close.

The man was small,
scrawny even. It was difficult to get a clear appraisal of his natural
features, thanks to the extensive and intricate tattoos covering every visible
inch of his skin. His long hair hung loosely, framing a face modified with
leonine features.

Animal boys.
The words rolled through Vinicius' mind disdainfully.
It was all there — the reconstructed cheekbones, the split upper lip, the
cat's-eye optical lenses, the fingertip claw implants. It was a corner of the
Modified subculture for which he felt contempt.
Try as you might, you
cannot Modify yourself into an animal.

"So, animal
boy. Are you strong and brave like a lion? Can you roar so loudly that we will
all run away?"

The man started
shivering with fear, but maintained eye contact with Vinicius. "You'll be
in my position someday, big man," he said.

Vinicius laughed
and began mauling the man, using every bit of the strength his dozens of
Modifications gave him. His heart soared. "If you like animals so much,
boy, what do you think of
the head wolf?"

He did not pause
until the man's corpse was unrecognizable. He finally stopped and took a breath
and looked around.

His men had
followed him inside. They were staring at him in awe.

He grinned at
them, saying nothing.
Yes, tell the story of what you have seen. It should
be a warning that people will never forget.

He sat down on
the desktop and watched as Mr. Blue quietly conducted an inventory of the
interloper's wares. It was a pathetic lot; he had expected more.

They found boxes
of B2 steroids, as they anticipated. There were also cases of SexTensity
supplements, testosterone patches, and cheap sunglasses with base-level optics
displays. There was even one of the "half-skeleton" hydraulic
weight-lifting harnesses, still new in the crate. He looked with bemusement at
the TouchyFeely Japanese sex robot in its factory packaging in the corner. It
was doubtful any of the local construction workers could afford such an
indulgence. Perhaps he would offer it as a prize to one of his men.

Most of it was
indeed product that Vinicius exclusively controlled. But much of it he did not
even bother with. The most interesting find was the animal boy's E-Thing, which
he had not had time to turn off. Vinicius ran through the man's contacts. There
was a listing for a doctor in Buenos Aries who specialized in gene therapy
Modifications. Vinicius decided he would have to pay the man a visit.

So the animal
boy was not much of a business threat after all.
Oh well, he will be useful
as a warning to others.

Vinicius called
in one of the men he had stationed on the perimeter. He had him lay all the
bodies out and make a recording on his E-Thing. The video would be up on the
net worldwide tonight, posted on carefully selected forums, without comment.

No comment was
necessary.

11

Ah. So it's
him.

Alexander Rohm's
eyes flickered across the cascade of information flowing through his systems.
He had carved out this large block of time from his schedule — no small
accomplishment — and diverted considerable resources to the task. It was
tiring, here at the end, but he still felt a thrill to be using his talents in
this way. He had often commanded this level of focus in furthering Open Sky's
fortunes, but to employ his full abilities for an undertaking such as this was
a new challenge.

He would have
even felt happiness if the objective had not been so grim.

He had poured
through terabytes of information, analyzing every scrap of data his own people
had accumulated, Rix's reports, news feeds, even links to obscure social
networking sites. He had used every software option at his disposal to break
down the security camera feeds and identify the enemies who had violated his
people. He hijacked every available database that could help in his search,
using the full powers of Open Sky's secure network, along with assorted special
programs developed by his associates.

And so his
potential enemies fell away one by one, until he was left with a single foe.

Vinicius
Cunha.

As he had
narrowed the list of suspects down to Cunha, he started to assemble a picture
of the man.
A particularly vicious bastard. Probably rigged with every
physical Modification available. A leader, in a primitive sense of leadership,
like the alpha male in a pack of wild animals.

He stared at the
few images of the man he had uncovered.
Murderer, enjoy your last days of
freedom.

His mind drifted
to the funeral for Venway, which had been shattering beyond belief. He had
known Allen Venway longer than any of his other associates, and Allen's wife
was a good friend. They had been able to suppress the news of Venway's death
for a couple days, but there was no way to keep his loss a secret for long. In
addition to their grieving, they had to deal with all the questions from
intrusive media outlets. It was to be expected, however. Venway had been an
extraordinary man.

All of the
remaining six of his special associates had joined Rohm at the service. It had
been a security risk for them to all gather in one place, he knew, but they
could not allow themselves to be cowed by statistical dangers. They would never
meet their goals if they hid under rocks. Eventually they would have to come
forth and explain to the world all the things that could now be accomplished.
The leadership they intended to provide would require courage and resolve.
Better to get used to the idea now.

He shook his head
and returned his focus to Cunha. Rohm was still not precisely sure what Cunha's
organization hoped to achieve with the stolen technology. The mystery troubled
him. Obviously Cunha was trying to build an empire that controlled the
distribution of Modifications. He apparently believed he had a market for even
exotic Modifications with little general application.

The radiation
treatment should have no street value. What have I overlooked?

Rohm decided to
return to this aspect of the assault against him later. Following Cunha's
capture, these questions would be answered. He sat back and reflected on his
next move.

He really should
contact Rix and let him know of his discovery. And he would, of course…
eventually. But he had also been thinking of the punishment he planned for
Cunha. It would take some time to implement. Why not wait awhile longer and see
if Rix would identify the assailant on his own?
 
It would be a good test of his competence. And besides,
identifying the man was one thing. Capturing him was another. Rohm had
naturally dealt with the Brazilian government in the course of establishing
Open Sky's far-flung network. They were a particularly proud bunch at the
moment. Reveling in their new status as a prominent global power, they would
never extradite one of their own, especially not to some territorial
government, and certainly not to a private company. He would need Rix's team to
execute Cunha's capture. Somehow.

He would speak
with the man soon. But for now, he would focus his energies on Cunha's ultimate
punishment. Everything must be in order.

He sent orders
flowing through the link at the base of his skull. He inserted a new orbital
position for the latest of Open Sky's satellites.

He recalled the
Alamogordo
Sunrise
to earth orbit, without posting a
new mission plan. That would raise a few eyebrows, he knew. To maintain
profitability, the ships had to maintain constant schedules between earth and
the mining operations on the asteroids. His chief of operations would have many
questions. Let him ask. Not for the first time, he felt relief that he had kept
Open Sky a private company, with no Board of Directors or shareholders to
answer to for these extraordinary moves.

Yes, many
livelihoods depended on the company. But Rohm had built Open Sky on the
strength of
his
will and the quality of
his
ideas. The company would serve him.

The true mission
plan he saved to a secure server that only he could access. Rohm would tell his
special associates of his plans soon enough. He anticipated little
disagreement.

Vinicius, your
execution will be unlike any other in human history. I promise you that.