“Of course knowledge is power!
But did you know that ignorance is as well?
My word, the things we can do if we do not have
to consider the consequences!”
- Director Tia Derouge
After a hot shower, washing off the speckles of foreign blood out from his hair and off his skin, Ottavio retired to his room.
He was exhausted, more mentally than physically. His optical display told him as much. He ate a banana, was still hungry, and so ate another one.
Ali-Baba had lost his nut. For what seemed an eternity, Ottavio endured a series of lectures and gesticulations, interspersed with head rubbings, desk poundings and finger pointing.
Insubordination, he had said, was not tolerable. Ottavio's refusal to follow orders to the letter, and his continual questioning of his superior's commands were more than minor offenses, they were dangerous to every mission and counter to the goals of Houston.
Rather than praise his attempt to negotiate with the main target, his pusillanimous nature was deemed disturbing. No, he did not say disturbing... vexing, that was it.
Ali-Baba's face had been beetroot red at this point. Simon, beside him, had stood by scowling.
It was odd. Throughout the grilling, Ottavio noticed on more than one occasion Ali-Baba's eyes wandering down to his desk.
At first he thought he was going to whip out a gun from his drawer, as silly as that seemed, but more and more it looked like he lost interest in Ottavio and thought more about whatever was in there. At those intervals, Simon would take over the blasting and desk hammering.
Ottavio stared at the ceiling in his room, half expecting to see a frowning Simon staring back at him. Where had he changed? His earliest memory was that of a goofy troublemaker in the locker rooms, full of gung-ho, a goofy smile and practical jokes.
Tales of him jumping over lockers and under benches chasing new recruit Jason Evans around the showers with a wet towel epitomized the old, fun loving Simon.
Then he got promoted out and shipped to Houston's tactical department. Even then he had met up a few times and still seemed the same old jocular guy, ready with a laugh even if something was not particularly funny.
Now he seemed on some kind of power trip, eternally angry and spiteful. He did not really smile any more, well, not unless he was hacking a limb from a torso.
Maybe he was thinking about it wrong. Maybe it was himself that needed to change. After all, Ali did not have any issues with Simon's behavior.
If anything, he wanted Ottavio to be more like him, to kill rather than negotiate, to inspire terror rather than foster friendship, even though that was directly against Houston's public 'Hearts and Minds' policy.
He suddenly felt like an outsider. Houston had been his home, his dream, for so long, but now it seemed it was trying to mold him into something he was not.
He dozed precariously in his chair, visions of Ali-Baba's red face, screaming, loomed before him. Simon floated in from behind him, and drew his sword. He gracefully swung at Ali, lopping off his right hand, before cutting again and taking off his arm.
Simon jumped back and moved to the other side of Ali, merrily slicing away, laughing happily as a child playing with new toy.
Ali, too, smiled eerily as Simon's blade disfigured his features. Ottavio shielded his face and turned away in disgust, only to see Penelope standing behind him, watching the sanguinary scene with dark, impassive eyes.
Penelope. A knock sounded at the door. Ottavio sat up, cracked his stiff neck and rubbed his eyes. The knock sounded again. He buzzed the intercom. It was Norbert.
“Yeah?” he asked, opening the door.
“You need to come with me,” said Norbert. His snarly tone was not present, or at least somewhat lessened. That put Ottavio on guard.
“Look, if you've come to lecture me about orders, you can save your breath, Ali's already done that. Repeatedly. I'm going to bed.”
He made to close the door. Norbert put his foot in the way.
“Listen, man, there are times when you've got to sleep, and times when you've got to listen to a brother. You can stay here and sulk about Ali, or you can come with me and learn a little something,” he said, “Make a choice, man. For once in your life, make a choice.”
Ottavio sighed. In truth, Norbert had him a little spooked. He seemed so sincere. It was not the normal, sullen Norbert standing there.
“Alright, I'll bite,” he said.
He followed Norbert down the hallway, wondering what all the urgency was. They got to the main elevator and took it to Maintenance. The air had a mixture of chlorine and kerosene tainting it.
“Did Simon set this up?” asked Ottavio, tensing himself for a fight.
“Shh! That way, end of the hall, where the light's out. Go in that room, I'll be in just after. Go!”
At the end of the hall was a door, as Norbert had pointed out. Convinced he was about to be hazed, Ottavio burst into the room, ready to fend off an attack.
Instead, he found a collection of mop buckets, bottles of cleaning fluid, a broken down maintenance robot and some dirty overalls. He wheeled around in case anyone had come in behind him. There was nobody there.
Presently, Norbert came in, closing the door gently behind him.
“Listen brother, I know you don't like me and for what it's worth, I don't think much of you,” said Norbert.
Ottavio watched him suspiciously. What a way to start a conversation.
“Well, thanks. I'm glad we had this chat...” he began.
“Shut up and listen!” growled Norbert, “Just... shut it for half a minute, alright? I got us in here for two reasons. First, it's the only place I know that ain't bugged. Second, I've come to realize a thing or two about you. I saw you in there today. I know what I saw. You've got the implants like the others, but you ain't like the others.”
“Who, Emily and Lucas?” quizzed Ottavio, worried that Norbert had spoken more than five words to him in a row without including a condescending remark.
Norbert sighed, “The others before you. Didn't I tell you to listen?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. Then listen,” said Norbert.
Ottavio began to wonder if Norbert would finally get to something worth listening to, rather than just berating him and telling him to be quiet. He remained silent all the same.
“I've had the displeasure of working under Simon for several months before you came along. Before then he's had two buddies. You're going to ask me who, right? Doesn't matter, man. They're dead.”
“Dead?”
“Yup. Well, kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“Come on, man! First had some kind of brain hemorrhage. Was halfway through a mission, was in one of those fits and dropped to the ground like a sack of spuds. Some kind of aneurysm, they said. Implants didn't take properly. You listening? They put it down to some kind of incompatibility between the body and the hardware. At least, that's what the official report said.”
Ottavio began to feel worried. He thought about the lecture that Doctor Jung had given, about all the gizmos and sensors and adapters inside his skull. He began to feel a little queasy.
Norbert scratched his head, “And the second guy, well... He was a real piece of work. Practically bathed in blood every mission, even on recon. If something moved, he'd kill it. Like Simon does, only worse. You think it couldn’t get worse, but man! Like he had, I don't know, rabies or something. No control, just stabbing and hacking. He only lasted a few sorties outside of training, but. Had to take the son of a bitch down myself.”
“What?”
Norbert cleared his throat, “I took him down. The silly son of a bitch was going mental, shooting this and stabbing that. What Sim did today, what you saw, was nothing by comparison. Blood and guts everywhere. Only he didn't stop. Just kept slashing and hacking away... killed Tanya and Thomas before I could even get a shot away. Took five rounds in the chest just to get him on the floor.”
Norbert's eyes wandered off to broken maintenance robot. Ottavio, for the first time, saw that there was a human underneath Norbert's cracked skin.
“Who were they? Tanya and Thomas?” he asked.
“Agents. My old team.”
“What happened to them?”
“Thomas. He was a good fella. He lay there bleeding all over the place. He was holding his throat with his right hand. That bastard took off his other one. He held on tight, but it didn't do any good. He just sprayed until it stopped. And Tanya... Shit!”
He covered his eyes and leaned back. Recovering, Norbert looked at the floor. He breathed deeply, shuddering.
Ottavio was not sure what to say.
“So, he's dead?” he asked.
Norbert shook his head, “They'd like you to think that. I thought he was but, no. No, actually he's not. Of course, Houston will say he is. Killed In Action. But he wasn't dead. Even after I slugged him with five shots, the bastard still wouldn't stop. Left me with this.”
He lifted his chin, indicated a long scar running down his neck.
“Trained to go for the jugular, you know. Almost got it too, if I hadn't pulled back in time. Simon sunk a few tranqs into him, finally settled him down. Aborted the mission, evacuated back to base, never saw the sod again. All that bullshit about being a hero. A hero!”
“But how is he still alive?”
“Houston said he was dead, so he's dead, right? But he was still kicking when I last saw him. That, and I've seen a couple of reports indicating that he, ah, look man, just trust me, I think the bastard is still around, somewhere. I looked at the logs.”
“You what? Norbert, you could...”
“Get my ass kicked, I know. But listen, man, that's the other reason why I got you here. Look.”
Norbert moved the robot out of the way and lifted a hatch in the wall. A series of data junctions were revealed.
“So you've hacked into the garbage disposal? Good going!”
“It's supposed to only be hooked up to the maintenance network, but I fiddled a bit. For the last while, I've been doing some snooping.”
Ottavio asked cautiously, “What kind of snooping?”
“Don't worry, man. The benevolent kind. The kind that opens my eyes to exactly what's going on around here. And I need you to help me now.”
“Whoa, back up ten feet. What kind of help are you talking about?”
Norbert licked his lips. He was getting nervous.
“Look, man, I'm onto something. Something called, 'Assisted Compliance Surgery'. I don't know what it is, alright, so don't ask, but all I know is, you don't do surgery on something that's dead.”
“You found his file?”
“Yeah. I found his file. But it ain't just him. Funny thing is that term cropped up on a few Agents, all MIA or KIA. Again and again, ACS. Do you see where this is going? Agents go on missions, they come back in a body bag, and suddenly they've been scheduled for surgery!”
Ottavio did not know what to say but he thought he had better say something to express his shock.
“Hell,” he finally came up with, “Simon never mentioned.”
“Of course he wouldn't. Neither would Ali. Houston will deny it all, and everyone is none the wiser. Just another day at the office. Send their families a ham and move on. I've seen it happen a couple of times, and my, er, research tells me it's happening all over the place.”
Norbert took out a console from his backpack.
“And then the next thing I know, we've got replacement Agents joining the team. Emily, Cassandra, Lucas and yourself.”
“And I'm supposed to be replacing the wingman role, is that it?” asked Ottavio.
“Yeah, man. You got history with Simon, maybe they think you'll get on. But, like I said, you aren't like the others. That's what I saw today. I saw your face when Simon was in his fit.”
Ottavio stayed silent. Was this a test by Ali?
“You don't revel in the killing, do you?” pressed Norbert, “You haven't got that zeal.”
Ottavio went a little red. It was not like him to get caught out by a question. He did not need to answer.
“Hey, chill. Don't look so worried,” said Norbert, “I'm not here to put you through one of Miss Penelope's psychobabble hypotheticals, yeah?”
“So what am I really here for?”
Norbert thrust the console into his hand. Ottavio looked at it warily.
Norbert explained, “I've temporarily mocked out the security for your personal files. Thing is, the last time I went poking around, someone figured it out, set up recursive trackers. I can get in, but those things will be onto my trace within ten seconds.”
“So?”
“So I need you to keep them busy with a false lead. Buy me some time. Your hacking mod is activated, right?”
“Only at the basic setting. I'm supposed to get an upgrade later on.”
“Can you hold a node? Can you apply probes?”
“Yeah, but...”
“Can you or can't you?”
“Yes.”
“So stop whining and hook yourself in. Wait for my go.”
Ottavio lowered the console. “Seriously? You want me to help you breach security? I might as well start filling out my resignation now.”
If looks could kill, Ottavio would have been a stain in the janitor's closet there and then.
“I have put my balls on the table, man,” Norbert said coldly, “If you're such a chicken shit pansy that you can't even help a brother when it affects you...”
“What if I screw it up? We'll both be caught. We'll be fired.”
“Fired? Fired? Are you listening to yourself? Shit! Houston ain't going to fire you, man. If you think you're still 'employed' and under a contract and all that tosh, you're one gullible mother. They own your ass.”
Ottavio's blood ran cold through his veins.
“That's not funny,” he said,
“Do I look like I'm having a giggle? It doesn't matter, man! If you don't find out what's what, you'll end up like all the others. Sooner or later, you'll be in a body bag on your way to surgery for God knows what,” said Norbert, grabbing his console back, “You know what? Screw this. Screw you. I try and help a brother, and this is the shit I get.”
“No, wait,” Ottavio rushed, catching him by the shoulder, “Alright. How much time do you need?”
Norbert turned back around. “Get your God damn hand off my shoulder,” he ordered.
“How much time do you need?” Ottavio asked again, a little more desperately.
“When we start, you keep going until I say stop,” he muttered, “You get that? You can't chicken out, you can't screw it up.”
“Just tell me what to do.”
Norbert smiled.
“Glad to see you've come to your senses. Hack into the network node seven oh four. That'll bring out the dogs. Just make sure you keep jumping from node to node before they lock onto you. If you're too slow, they'll work their way back to this console, and we'll have to bug out ASAP,” he explained, “You got all that?”
Ottavio took a deep breath. He slid his finger to a receptor on the console. Instantly his hacking module took over, and his optical display reorganized itself to display a network topology.
“Shit, man, what's up with your eyes?” asked Norbert. Ottavio was wide eyed. His irises had widen to a point where his pupils looked like black, gaping holes.
“Nothing. It's the optical display doing its thing,” replied Ottavio.
“Shit, you don't need to use the console? Well, can you see Node seven oh four? That's where they set up their trap. As soon as you tap that, start playing leap frog. Keep them anywhere away from five five nine.”
Ottavio targeted the node and let the hacking module work its magic. In a few seconds, the readout showed a scroll of data about its contents, something about an Agent Boris.
“Who is Agent Boris?” he asked.
“Shut up and start hacking away from that node,” hissed Norbert, tapping at his own console, “I'm going in.”
Ottavio began to hack at Node nine one. He was eighty percent complete when his display warned him of an impending security breach. He moved to Node nine one and closed off the port.
The breach was avoided. Norbert looked over at him, scowling.
“That was too close. You need to move faster than that, man. Come on, move to three two three! Now!”
Ottavio targeted three two three and began hacking.
“Try a different algorithm, man. That's a Hub. String based security. Try a Fleischman probe on it!”
Ottavio did so, and hacked into it successfully. A branch of nodes opened up before him.
“Hey, scramble that port before you close it off, alright? That'll force them to reroute through another one.”
One by one, Ottavio hacked his way through the network, taking note of the various locations he passed. Many were uninteresting, containing nothing more than air-duct maintenance routines or the roster for the mess. Others were a little juicier, holding memorandums and notes about missions, shipments and financial dealings.
“You done sightseeing? Those trackers aren't far behind, man. See? They've already adapted to your tricks. You've got to keep two Nodes ahead of them!” said Norbert, “I need more time on this!”
Ottavio pressed on, sweating with the effort. His hacking module was consuming a fair amount of power. He was not sure, but it felt as if his head was getting hot. He began to sweat harder.
“Keep it up, man, I'm almost through!” said Norbert, “A little more... there! Oh, man! Don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop!”
“What have you found?”
“Ali's report to the Board.”
“What's it say?”
“Shut up and keep hacking! Whoa, not there. That's the central core. You can't hack that without lighting the place up.”
“I haven't got much of an option,” said Ottavio, “They're closing from three points.”
“Then backtrack... shit! OK, Otto, give me whatever you've got. Just make sure you scramble your signature before you pull out!” he urged, “Come on...”
“They're onto me in fifty seconds, max!”
“Stick with it!” said Norbert, furiously pounding his console, “I almost got this! Oh my God...”
Ottavio watched the progress of the trackers on the topology. He had created a bit of a lead but now had nowhere to go from the Node he had tapped into.
He hissed, “Norbert!”
“A little more... Just a little more!”
The security breach alert began to flash. Ottavio had no time left.
“I'm starting egress, I hope you got what you were after!” he said, getting ready to yank out the port.
Norbert cursed, throwing down his console, “Damn it! Damn you and damn this piece of shit!”
Ottavio pulled the cable from the junction box and let go of the console. His optical display returned to normal.
It has taken a lot out of him. He slumped down and caught his breath.
“Shit! Someone knew I was in there. They were encrypting the files as I watched.”
“So... you're saying that after all that, you didn't see anything? That's great. That's super awesome.”
“I never said that!” said Norbert, picking his console off the floor, “I didn't see much, but I saw enough.”
“Like what?”
“Like you're not producing satisfactory results. Like someone wants you to be as combat effective as the last two,” said Norbert, “Like those in charge are not seeing their return on investment. ROI. If you get my drift.”
Ottavio frowned, “I don't.”
“They're talking about a lot of money getting put into you. You've got every mod in the book, and then some. Only, they're not switching them on, not yet,” he said, “There are questions against your loyalty, your willingness to follow orders to the letter. That includes killing on command.”
Ottavio's eyebrows furrowed. Norbert was scaring him. He was talking like Ottavio was some kind of machine rather than an Agent, like he was a development or a project.
“That's not what Houston...”
“Oh come on, Ottavio! Don't you get it? Read the damn writing on the god damn wall, man! They want a team of super warriors. A bunch of bloodthirsty, cold hearted killers that they can drop behind enemy lines and expect complete extermination of the problem. Scorched earth, no man left standing. Armageddon kind of shit. That's you, Ottavio. That's who you're supposed to be. That's Simon, and Boris and Raphael.”
“No. That's not me.”
“Exactly, you're not! And that's pissing them off big time!”
Although it was a conclusion that Ottavio was avoiding, he finally admitted to himself that Norbert was making sense, even if it was in a strange, Norbert kind of way.
He held up his hand, “So, I'm supposed to kill like Simon did today? It's despicable, I mean, what I saw... That's not even part of training. I mean, whatever happened to assess, negotiate, disarm, immobilize, eliminate?”
“ANDIE is for recruits and grunts, Otto. It's for making the public think we're humanitarians first and pit bulls second. Here, in the secret squirrel service, they like to skip all the bullshit and c