Extensis Vitae

Chapter 12



The next morning, Reznik went to pay Rin a visit at the holding cell. With his newfound celebrity status, he was now free to move about the complex without an escort. The friendly greetings and smiles he received from the colonists were a nice contrast to the suspicion he had been met with before.

With Myrna’s assistance, he had researched the token device that Rin was so anxious to recover. The Colony archives did not have very detailed information, but from what he could gather, the device was a means of controlling the person who it belonged to. In effect, it limited certain actions that the person could perform, such as preventing a servant from harming his or her master. There was mention of an arrangement called ‘indentureship,’ which sounded to him an awful lot like a modern version of slavery. If Haze had somehow controlled Rin by using the token, then she might very well have been telling the truth about being forced to participate in the outlaws’ actions against her will.

He walked up to the security desk and spoke to the guard. The man said something into his Datalink briefly and then gestured for Reznik to proceed. He continued down the corridor and stopped outside the room with the holding cell. The guard on duty there had been notified of Reznik’s need to speak with the prisoner, and stepped outside the room to let them speak in private.

Reznik studied Rin for a moment before he went inside. She was seated on the floor of the cell in the lotus position, hands on her thighs and her eyes closed. Her face looked peaceful. He noticed how her form-fitting outfit accentuated her body. Although she was tanned, lean, and muscular, she still looked quite feminine. He also noted that she had an elegant—but subtle—tattoo design that swirled around her shoulders and down her arms, curling around her biceps and disappearing. The studs in her cheeks glinted under the harsh overhead light, and she also wore several sets of small stud earrings.

He realized then that she was regarding him with those unnatural eyes. As their gazes locked, the moment stretched until it verged on awkwardness.

Reznik cleared his throat and entered the room, sitting on the edge of the desk and facing her. He fished the token out of his pocket, and her eyes immediately darted to it.

“Thought you might be interested in this,” he said. Rin made no reply other than rising smoothly to her feet and approaching the bars. She would have only come up to Reznik’s chest if he had been standing straight, but as it was they were at the same level.

Realizing she wasn’t going to say anything, he continued, “The way I understand it is that this device allows whoever your ‘master’ is to program you with certain commands. Is that accurate?”

“More or less,” she replied in her throaty voice.

“And this process is called ‘indentureship?’ So Haze was technically your master and programmed you to obey and not take any action against him, I’m assuming?”

She nodded. After a long moment, he was about to ask a follow-up question, but she spoke up. “I was indentured to my previous employer. Haze stole my token and used it to give me his own directives, in effect ‘kidnapping’ me.”

“So he became your employer, then?”

“I wouldn’t use the term ‘employer,’ since nothing was ever agreed to on my part. ‘Dominus’ would be the word for it.” Seeing his puzzled look she added, “‘Slave master.’”

“And what were these commands Haze gave to you?”

“To obey his commands, to never resist him, and to not harm him or his companions,” she said flatly.

“Did you ever try to resist or disobey? What happened if you did?”

“I tried many times. The directives are hard-wired into the neuromuscular system of my body.” Seeing his confused look, she elaborated. “For example, if I would try to strike him, my muscles would seize up and I would be immobilized by crippling pain that would flare through my nerves.”

Reznik thought on that for a moment. “So now that Haze is dead, do his commands still function?”

“Yes. Obviously he can’t give me new orders any longer, but the previous ones are still in effect.”

“How would you get those commands removed now that he’s dead?” He turned the token over in his hands, studying it. The three intertwined triangles gave no clue as to the potentially unpleasant function of the device.

“One way would be to get a hacker to remove the old directives. But if I had access to his biometric data and someone to override and reprint new commands, that would be easier.”

Reznik decided to take a gamble. Meeting her eyes, he handed her the token. “I don’t know if this will be of use to you or not, but I see no reason to let it fall into the wrong hands in the meantime.”

She took the token and he saw a hint of gratitude on her calm face. She studied it briefly and then slipped it into a pocket. “So what happens to me now?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know. The administrator hasn’t said anything to me about his plans. I tend to believe your claims about being involved in this mess against your will, but I don’t know if he will believe it. The colonists are keen on having someone pay for the crimes of Haze and crew, and, unfortunately for you, you are the target of opportunity here.” He scratched the stubble on his jaw. “I will put in a good word for you based on what I know now about the token and your cooperation, for what it’s worth.”

Rin didn’t speak for a long moment. Finally, she said, “You are an honorable man. That is something truly rare in these times, and it is appreciated.” With that, she turned away and lay down on her bunk.



***



Reznik finally had some time to himself in his room. Bright sunlight lit up the room from the projected window, the effect surprisingly natural looking. The meeting with Swanson wasn’t for a couple more hours, and he wanted to go through the weapons and equipment he had salvaged.

He stretched and looked around at the spartan furnishings, wondering if this could ever feel like home to him. He didn’t think so. In fact, now that he was able to remember more than just snippets from his past, he realized that the restlessness he felt had always been there in his life in one form or another. He had always been able to pick up and move around without too much attachment to one place. The military had been an ideal place for him in that regard.

But what about my plans with Amanda? he wondered. That had felt real to him—the desire to find somewhere to finally settle down. Now that he remembered that it hadn’t been meant to be, he pondered what the future might hold for him. It had felt good to be on the move again when he had gone to Colony 13. Regardless of the danger he had been heading into, it had been better than being cooped up. He suspected he would quickly get cabin fever if he remained in the colony.

He sat down on the couch and checked the wound on his leg. Before the feast, he had cleaned and bandaged it, noting that there didn’t seem to be any blood since the initial stab wound. He peeled the bandage off and was surprised to find that the wound was totally healed. A small scar puckering the flesh on his thigh was the only sign that it had been there.

He tried to imagine the billions of nanobots traveling through his blood stream. With robotic precision and vigilance, they were constantly on the alert to prevent any damage, repair any wounds, or annihilate any harmful germs they found. He wondered if they followed specific programming, or if they were somehow directed by a computer somewhere in his body that was making split-second decisions to protect and sustain him.

I wonder how much of me is machine and how much is organic. Do I have real organs and bones and muscles, or are they artificial? He could still bleed, obviously, and he felt sensations as he normally would have, so he assumed that his body was mostly organic. He even could feel a pulse, but whether he actually had a heart beating inside his chest or a mechanical pump, he didn’t know. I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Whether organic, machine, or combination of the two, I feel better and stronger than I can remember having ever felt before—even before the accident.

The weapons and items he had recovered during the mission were laid out neatly on the table. He realized it was odd that it had taken him so long to clean his weapons and inventory his ammo. In the past, that was the first thing he had always done after a mission, but this time circumstances hadn’t allowed for it until now.

Rin’s katana was truly an impressive weapon. Reznik picked it up and studied it, turning it to catch the light on the wickedly sharp blade. It was made from some alloy that he couldn’t identify, making it incredibly light and strong. An elaborate inscription in what looked like Japanese was etched along the base of the blade.

After he cleaned off the dried blood, the blade gleamed in the bright artificial sunlight, seemingly as sharp as the day it was forged. Surprisingly, the sword had not sustained any nicks or damage of any sort along its keen edge after the drawn out fight between Rin and him.

Once he had the katana looking like new again, he put it aside and picked up the old .45 revolver that he had acquired. It was no wonder that the pistol had misfired—it looked as if it hadn’t been cleaned in years. The hammer was caked with rust, and grime coated the cylinder and pin.

He used some picks, brushes, cleaning pads, and solvent that Myrna had scrounged up for him. It wasn’t as good as a proper cleaning kit, but it would do the trick until he found something better. He began scrubbing at the rust around the hammer, and his mind wandered.



***



Reznik remembered spending Thanksgiving one year with Nash and his family when the unit happened to be stateside for the holiday. Nash’s little sister Allie had turned up with a split lip, courtesy of her boyfriend. When Nash had seen her face, he had flown into a rage. Allie had begged him to let it go because it had been an accident, but Nash was unrelenting.

He and Nash had gone to the bowling alley that night. The boyfriend was there, hanging out with his buddies in the parking lot, drinking beer and smoking weed. Nash had started beating the hell out of the kid, and after he had laid two of the boyfriend’s buddies out on the pavement, as well, the rest of them had taken off. Reznik had needed to wrestle Nash away before he hospitalized the kid in his rage.

The image of Allie’s face had stayed with him. At the time, she had been a pretty 18-year-old with long brown hair and dark eyes. The determination on her face— despite her split lip—made him think of June, and he realized the security officer bore a striking resemblance to Allie, just a few years older. He remembered how June had put on a brave face despite the ugly bruise on her cheek and the horror she had suffered through.

Reznik saw that the revolver was now nearly spotless in his clenched fist. Setting it aside, he started to realize why that memory had surfaced. In his mind, he could see the women sitting there again in the common area of Colony 13, beaten and brutalized by the outlaws. It hadn’t really sunk in until now due to all the excitement and the adrenaline rush from the fighting, but as he imagined what June and the other women had gone through, he felt the stirring of powerful anger deep inside.

“I thought it best to get back to work right away to keep my mind off things,” June had said.

He remembered the colonists who had been kidnapped and taken away to a place with the foreboding name of Skin City. They had been herded away like cattle to the slaughter.

Reznik began to formulate an idea of what needed to be done.