Crumbs

Detective Vim Lithesteel

(Art source unknown)

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Index: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

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Chapter 9

Collateral traffic

Built with the intent to last less than a star-year let alone ten, this fake excuse of a bank had the look of a shiny mortuary. Shiny poly-plastic cubicals, vacfoam-padded chairs, and thin, folding tables, serviced an assortment of Taksian, Nara, and Taz’aran bank employees. Dressed in posh business suits, fake smiles gleamed on the holo-lights with their bio-metal teeth, a wall of lying faces all clad in multiple layers of holo-makeup The aroma of unwashed bodies and cheap perfume, collided with a stench which could only emanate from low-budget cybernetics to create a specific malodor. One which the holo-screens soaked and amplified with every single glint of Crediot™ incessantly deceptive ads.

“Irresistibly accessible and reliably fast! Withdraw the amount Crediot™ gracefully predetermined for you!” blinked in huge reddish colors, holo-projected in the most enticed font of Fringe Speak whoever worked in digi-ad department for this bank, followed by “Make gratuitous use of your Crediproduct™!” and “Decats are for spending!”

Lithesteel did not emote visibly, and though he did tilt his head slightly to the left, none of the bank employees, security, and so called customers could ascertain the meaning behind this quite Terran body language. Perhaps those of Taksian descent would, at least to a certain extent since it was in their culture to employ a generous amount of gestures, subtle or not.

Noila elbowed him, the many metallic bracelets of hers jingling and clinking when she whispered – “Sillies, all of ‘em.”

Obvious that she was meaning the sentients who willingly enslaved themselves via impossibly to repay debt, only to make pointless item acquisitions. Vim knew the type. Many, many decades ago, before Humanity’s major change, there were fools like these there too and in great numbers. Authoritarian psychopaths could rely on these to enable all their atrocities, and practically stay in power forevermore. However, once people reached their breaking point, the absolute final one, this age old issue was resolved and by the best way possible.

“What about the broken, tortured ones? They who had to sell life and limb for the salvation of their children?” – Vim addressed his gorgeous chauffeur, hand over her shoulder.

The girl gave him an almost offended look, replying with a sigh – “We’re only Cousins’ and I... can’t ‘elp ‘vryone.”

“True,” – nodded he, fixing her hair with gloved fingers – “not even the Ascended Ancestors could be everywhere, every time.”

A cyber-decked bank employee approached them, and cocksure, swiped a singable data-pack on their PDAs – “We, at Crediot™ notices that the good sentients have no contract with us. Sign, and everything that you’ve ever dreamed of shall be yours... literally at no price whatsoever!”

Lithesteel actually slid his faceplate open and, giving the plastic excuse of a man a glare which practically scrambled the software of at least one of his cyber-gear, said – “Not interested at the moment. However since I am in the middle of an investigation, you would do good to alert your manager to my arrival.”

Visibly disgruntled, the bank consultant attempted to ignore Vim and his friend – “Oh, is that so? I am quite sorry to say that my department has nothing to do with any investigations, legitimate or otherwise.”

“Oh... I can assure you, it is a licensed business, and...” – Lithesteel placed his armored hand on the consultant’s shoulder, flashing the SecuCard in his plastic face – “that we are worth your manager’s time.”

The fake creature winced in their faces.

With the tone of someone who expected to be swindled only because they were a habitual swindler themselves, he pointed at the bank manager’s office – “My manager, yes, but what about my time? Understand this, I am losing commissions from potential customers.”

Vim’s face slightly twisted behind his faceplate.

“I would not attempt to compensate you for such a loss by a mere monetary offering.” – and the detective projected a file on his PDA.

It was a list of one hundred names and their digi-profiles on G-Net, each with a relevant friend scan code authorization. The bank employee scratched his earhole in a very Taz’aran way, the kind of gesture they often made counting future monetary acquisitions. There immediately followed an almost questioning look, when the bankster addressed Vim – “Coin, I can count here and now. What, in Throne’s Steps, could I do with some hundred names and Corpos of all sentients?”

The detective did not even have to gesture or give Noila a sign since she knew how to game the Corpo system. With a bat of her eyelashes, she needlessly fixed her natural hair. Her amazing handmade bracelets sang their enticing song, while she shifted on her feet, legs tilted just the right way. A smile laden with pure grit, skilled much beyond the ability of a simple bankster grifting poltroons, Nolia said – “Them be milky smooth mind Corpo frehsmen. See, mister consooltan’... they jus’ land the ‘sterday.”

There was no need to further explain, nor did said consultant demand to know how were these names and all relevant digi-files acquired. Instead, he swiped these onto a PDA, checked their authenticity by attempting ten random friend codes, and when literally every single one of them worked, this emoted his entire visage.

“Why, our main branch manager would be glad... no, overwhelmed to see you!” – he speedily motioned Noila and Vim towards the office, making sure they had a free lane through the huddled mass of debt slaves, shielding the two from his fellow consultants and the bank’s security guards. The consultant even linked whoever sat behind the desk there, meaning they wouldn’t be thrown out after a few moments.

With a slick mechanical sound, the managerial wing door slid close behind them, sealing off dubious smells, panicky sounds, and the endless buzz of holographic projectors. Her gaze split between a few holo-screens, the link her consultant sent, and the two guests, there sat a Nara woman. Finely picked gene-grafts made her appear almost god-like, yet for a Terran, mind and soul touched by real women, she appeared but a pale copy of the real thing.

A hair which unnervingly moved on itself, facial bone structure not quite Nara anymore, this one was obviously going after some Taz’aran of importance. Having replaced Universe only knew how many of her internal organs, muscles, and quite possibly numerous brain augmentations, the manager’s face would easily gain her access in the Taz’aran Imperium. Whoever gene-grafted her, they were an expert of their craft. Only high nobility of the purest blood lines could boast such a bushy unibrow and elegantly oval earholes.

The manager’s business suit was more an armor than charisma enhancing attire. Vim’s trained eye saw a number of flexible plates under the fabric, including a soft glow of high yield energy shield. Imposing, yes, yet this woman was not taking any chances.

“My employee tells me that I need give you a few star-minutes of my time.” – she made a barely passable attempt at flaunting beauty.

Noila did not even have to raise an eye brow.

The real girl simply existed her dominance over beauty that came under the fingers of highly paid gene-grafters with nary but a single emote. For a single moment, the bankster boiled in her own mental juices, illusions of grandeur having marinated into delusions over the span of star-years. Lithesteel, unfazed by any of this, his mind laser focused on gaining important, life-saving clues, made a single motion.

He cracked his neck.

It was something that all Terrans did and, bar punching their fists together, a thing simply terrifying. Not his intent in the slightest, Vim never had to assert himself over anyone but degenerate criminals and their goons, this emote happened naturally. Face a mask of frozen emotion, the detective once more leveled his quite fake SecuCard for the bankster to see – “CorpoSec will not learn anything from me, nor my employees.”

The manager inhaled, almost violently, hissing a question back – “About what, exactly?”

“One star-year ago, a bank... and I am not saying that it was Crediot™, financed a certain criminal venture. The foundation for freedom and prosperity or FFP for short.” – and Lithesteel began his explanation, projecting a duo of holo-slides, one obviously gene-grafted dame with a secretary aura and a man who very much appeared to be some rather imposing manager.

“Who exactly are these two and what by the Holy Poisoned Dagger might that FFP thing be?” – the bank manager attempted to feign ignorance, yet both Noila and Vim peered straight through her gene-grafted facade.

“Mister President Spunger and his closest associate, Thotea, they were the heads of an organized sentient smuggling ring.” – Vim delivered that information as he projected quite the collection of starship navigation routes, fake cargo manifests which concealed cargo holds full of people, and lists of digital payments all enabled by Crediot™ software.

How did he acquire said information, the bankster had no idea. Since CorpoSec was not on his heels, and he was presenting the information in this specific way, then there was a way to avert one rather violent bank seizure. Gahen Inc. execs were always giddy with excitement and swift to act whenever any possibility of acquiring monetary assets arose.

Leaning forward, the manager prepared to browse through her desktop’s hefty database – “Had a bank financed and facilitated all payments of said traffickers, in theory, what needs to be done to prevent a full disclosure?”

Lithesteel produced another file on his PDA, a list of companies dealing in gene-grafts was projected – “Investigations change course due to the timely acquisition of new evidence.”

It did not take the manager long to sift through her files and single out a Corpo entity named Noverna, one which manufactured superb grafts. Multiple payments for delivering raw materiel were logged in throughout a unique data-node of her bank, set up between the FFS group and Noverna Inc. Without giving it a second thought, she prepared to exchange the data, giving a command to her DT division for a full and complete wipe of any related bank information. She would contact her personal gene-grafter later, and make sure all traces of her own augmentations were wiped clean.

“In this hypothetical situation,” – Vim accepted the information she offered, in exchange wiping all data concerning her bank, files marked with their original data stamps proving there weren’t any copies, and prepared to leave – “I would advise an immediate and thorough secucam wipe.”

His chauffeur nearly lost control of her emote as she watched him delete all of these incriminating files without a second thought. Though there was an exchange of information, she would’ve rather kept something and later used it to blackmail the slimy bankster. Marks or no, sentients who profited from others in such a way were quite despicable. Seeing Lithesteel’s cue, and knowing of his recent deeds, nevertheless, she said nothing.

Vacating the premises with speed, Noila and Vim sped off, their neon yellow micro-car flying towards the main address of Noverna Inc. The girl threw somewhat angry, confused looks at her employer while she piloted around a bundle of nasty air traffic. Faceplate open, the detective caught one of said looks with a calm smirk on his human face.

“You are, I assume, angry that I supposedly destroyed all that data?”

Noila pouted – “S’pposedly?”

The detective produced a smallish and quite alien in design device from his spacesuit backpack. By the press of a switch and with a mechanical whine, this item came to life when Vim aimed it at Noila’s confused, yet very cute face, and clicked another button. There was a subtle flash followed by another mechanical sound, and an actual physical photograph, printed on a square of thin vac-plastic rolled out from a slid underneath the contraption.

“This vintage Terran camera is made by ‘Nippon Optics’ in early 1968. Every picture is a high resolution image and, let me assure you, quite scannable.”

“Should’ve known ya gon’n swindle dhat mutie bankster bitch.” – Noila giggled with gusto, sticking her very own and unique photograph over her car’s instrumentation panel.

Lithesteel shrugged in his spacesuit – “Well... we were talking all hypothetically like.”

Floating around a CorpoSec air-blockade, Noila navigated straight through a set of enclosed grav-rails. These tunnels were supposedly only open for rail trains, yet her car’s mainframe had all the appropriate secucodes. Almost scraping the top of the tunnel and with nary a hand twitch or worried emote of any kind, the girl proceeded to fly above a fully loaded cargo train. Swooshing outside in the most opportune moment, a star-second before the train gate closed shut, Noila was soon to land her slightly overheating micro-car.

“Head office is right on the grav-train yard’s offwolrld loading station.” – sighed Vim following a thorough scan of their vicinity, hand on his sidearm – “Totally not creepy.”

If that bank officer was laden with certain unpleasant smells, then the mostly automatic train yard teemed with these. The rot of some abandoned food shipment carried across from its ripped apart container, attracting all sorts of critters, local and alien. Them gorging upon said shipment and, consequently, each other, was a source of even more stench, including a delightful cacophony of screeching and squealing. Of course, the train yard’s automatic security, including they who monitored it, plus a number of CorpoSec coppers, had been engaged in a raging battle with the pests.

“Snuul?” – Vim inquired as he scanned Noverna’s package delivery entrance for sensors, alarms, and just in case, traps.

Noila grinned, finessing the door open via her gury-rigged food delivery driver PDA when he gave her the go. With a soft creak, the armored gate revealed a large storage area complete with an automatic loader arm. Parked near the far wall, there was a power loader, for when automatics failed. There was not a single soul here, nor, for that matter, even the tiniest of cargo containers. Nano-concrete floor was covered with occasional smidgen of grime, actuator fluid, and metallic dust, the usual friends of any storage. One rather peculiar indentation he scanned and logged a set of holo-slides for later inspection, no footsteps though...

Raising an eyebrow, Lithesteel drew his pistol and gestured Noila to close the gate and follow him, but from a distance of five steps.

“Scanner shows they’ve used this storage recently.” – whispered he, hand scanner and eyes scouring the area with such meticulousness that the girl had never seen before – “Force field harmonics are too precise for some Corpo container stacking employee.”

“Scrubbed it dhat good-eh?” – quietly mumbled back she, holding her stun gun.

“Couldn’t have done it so quick, even if that bankster ratted us out. No, this is someone else at work here...” – and Vim stopped dead in his tracks.

Scanner picking up the mixed particles of a violent chemical fire and burnt Taz’aran flesh, the detective first made extra sure that they did not walk into an ambush. When he was content that there weren’t any sensor decoys projecting faked readings, Vim scanned again, this time for cloaking shield frequencies. Keeping near the wall and low, he proceeded to enter through an invitingly open service area door and inside the office proper.

Everything appeared to have been ransacked, but in a manner that only trained police officers did. Desktop computers ripped open so their data-chips and crystal processors could be snatched. Library pillars cut open with vibroblades, all of them had been emptied, some mobile data drives obviously taken since but a few still smoldered on the floor. Near, Vim saw a small pile of what once was a handful of Taz’arans. Among the still scannable pieces he noted a few armored uniform and beam chamber bits, but not a single slagged power pack.

“We were short about two and a half star-hours.” – Lithesteel calculated following a speedy analysis of all scan-data – “Though from the looks of it, I doubt we would’ve changed anything had we been here.”

Noila held a vacfoam handkerchief over her mouth, crouching behind the nano-concrete pillar he pointed her – “Don’t think a gang did dhat, an’ CorpoSec wouldha beamed hundred holes all over dhere.”

“These flatfoots have not the ordinance nor the discipline or skill to pull such a clean job.” – Vim giving his suspicion a voice while he directed a number of aimed scans at specific vectors around the smoldering pile of Taz’aran ash – “Only Terran stormtroopers are so precise. Since I am quite certain that no one commandeered our teams for offworld operations, there are but a few culprits left. A Corpo cleaner team and Tazzie commandos would’ve very much came here for one or another reason, mostly to tie loose ends.”

“Wut’bout them Narcos?” – asked Noila and followed after Vim when he indicated they were about to leave.

“This is a definite possibility, though I am irked by something and I cannot quite put my finger on it...”

The girl motioned him to come closer, pointing her stunner at a potted plant. It was nothing strange for some office to have decorative plants and some even sported full on herb, fruit, or veggie gardens, so their employees could relax in style.

“I don’t recognize this one.” – the detective winced and took a holo-slide of it, his intent to search the local G-Net node – “Come, we got to leave before someone catches us here.”

“A blomblom!” – snickered she, nudging the crystaline-like structure of the potted plant with her finger – “Dhat thingy, it ‘members sounds fer a long while. Almi’s ol’ pleice had a bunch of ‘em! We sang songs an dhey sang dhem back... see?”

Indeed, as soon as she did that, the alien plant’s stem and oval-shaped leaves vibrated with one rather peculiar frequency. It very much sounded like someone, probably a few sentients, they had been humming a melody which the plant’s cell membranes remembered. For a moment, Lithesteel searched his memory without success, yet it was Noila’s reaction which gave him the clue.

Pure terror on her bonny face, the girl hummed said melody, gripping the stun gun. Tears running down her cheeks, panic took her, as she began to see uniform-clad shadows which were never there. Breath labored, as if someone was physically crushing Noila’s throat, the girl began to shake uncontrollably, ultimately fainting in Vim’s hands.

Carrying her with his best speed, the detective used her PDA to open and then close the delivery entrance. Once in the car and flying away, the Terran was quick to link the Cousins’. Just to be on the safe side, instead of using his faceplate’s voice to text and typing DCPS, Vim hummed their abominable hymn. In a single day, not just his investigation, but the fates of all Taksians on this planet changed and not for the better...

(╭ರ_•́)

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