Chapter 4
John Doe
He'd known she was going to run. From the second he saw the look on her face after he'd saved her.
Something wasn't entirely right with the woman sprinting through the corridors before him. She obviously had a secret.
Then again, who in the slums wouldn't have?
‘Hey, stop,’ John tried again, using his neural implant to relay his voice throughout the audio system of the corridor block. It was a strange sensation to hear his own voice booming at him from all corners, but it wasn't for his benefit; he had an obligation not only to warn the woman to stop - not that she would - but to warn everyone else in her path that there was a security chase in place.
‘Redirect a unit to the end of Tunnel 4, Block Alpha,’ John said, but this time he didn't even use his voice. He didn't even make a sound. He relayed his thoughts straight through his implant.
The woman was fast. Hell, way too fast for an ordinary human. Either she was packing some fancy tech stuffed into her bones and muscle, or she wasn't human at all.
Which made far more sense. If she really was stuffed to the brim with high-class tech, she wouldn't be hanging around the slums of Orion Minor. The Union didn't spend money on technology just to waste it.
‘I am a member of the Union Forces. You are ordered to stop or you will be taken down,’ John boomed again, his voice reverberating around the tight corridor as he shoved his way past a suspicious group of aliens.
She didn't stop. In fact, she put on a burst of speed that would have put even a cyborg to shame.
‘What the hell?’ John mumbled, not bothering to send his voice to the audio system, just mumbling under his breath.
‘Institute Upgrade A,’ John now added, voice clear.
An upgrade, on the run. Why did he do this to himself? He was on a freaking stop over - he was meant to be relaxing before his real mission began. Yet here he was voluntarily going to clean up the slums.
As John ran, his neural implant began to buzz. Then a truly unique sensation rippled over his body. It felt like tiny electrodes imbedding themselves into his skin, then wending their way into his muscles.
Gritting his teeth and taking a stiff breath, John got ready.
He knew what would happen next.
It was never pleasant. And no matter how many times he'd done it, it never got easier.
‘Upgrade initialized,’ the computer replied.
Orion Minor, like all Union planets, no matter how backwater, had an Integrated Computer Network. ICN's were a vestige of Old Tech, but had been ripped apart and replaced so often they - unlike the rest of the Old stuff - were not going to run out of juice anytime soon. They were, however, very clever. One computer system that ran the entire planet distributed over the whole surface. There was not some giant industrial complex full of computer banks that housed all the hardware; it was distributed like a neural net in a human or one of the other soft-fleshed races. Tiny live wires that could self-replicate littered every building, street, forest, even the earth itself. There was no limitation to what they could imbed themselves in; reinforced planar concrete, ship hulls, wood, water, even magma. It meant no matter where you went on the planet, you could always interface with the system. Or at least you could if you had a neural implant as sophisticated as John's. For your average slum dweller, you'd have to go to a central terminal.
But none of that was the point. The point was what was about to happen to John.
He was lifted off his feet as the computer circuits in his immediate area all redistributed, massing around them. He could see the distinct electric blue tinge they gave the air. He could hear the furious hum too, and smell the acrid taste that reminded him of singing flesh.
Clenching his teeth hard, he forced his body to relax, forced his legs to separate, forced his hands to drop open, his fingers no longer crooked and bent.
Armor began to form around him. The ICN took hold of all the closest recalibraters, broke down sections of the floor, of the smart glass above, of John's own clothes. It stripped them back to whatever molecules it needed, then it knitted him armor out of the very air.
It took seconds, but they dragged on and on for John. The sensation of your own clothes being broken down while a chunk of wall and floor around you suddenly became the leg of your armor and the chest plate, was not something he would ever rest easy with.
‘Upgrade complete,’ the computer finally informed him as John landed back on the ground.
The residual effect of the anti-grav field that had first yanked him off his feet still tingled in his muscles. His ears still rang, and despite the fact his jaw was now locked in place by reinforced smart armor, his teeth still rattled.
‘Stop,’ John said one more time.
Though the woman was now out of sight, it was a technicality. With John's unaided human eyes, he wouldn't be able to pick her up. He was directly linked to the ICN now though, and he used its scanners to ascertain her position.
She was headed down the opposite corridor, absolutely flying down a set of stairs, past a group of heavy-set well-armed Cantar mercenaries, and outdoors onto the Fourth Outside Wing.
‘Great,’ John mumbled to himself. Then he sent a message to his own ship.
John was very much just on a stopover. The authorities of Orion Minor had been instructed to help him in any way they could to ensure his mission to the Rim started off as a success. Nowhere in his debrief with them had he mentioned he would run around their slums trying to apprehend their citizens.
Sometimes John just couldn't help getting involved though.
His feet would move before his mind could think. Maybe it was his childhood, maybe it was his training, but if he saw someone in trouble, he acted.
Well, soon enough this woman would be in trouble. Because John never lost. Not when he was playing cards with the crew, not when he was gambling on a risky mission to the Rim, and not when he was chasing down some poor woman in the slums who probably had more fear than sense.
He'd drag her in, she'd likely share her sob story, she'd explain why she ran, then hopefully the security forces would leave her alone. John might have had an obligation to pull her in - it was an offence to run from the Union Forces - but he doubted she had any serious secrets to hide.
Still, he was going to play this by the book.