BC3

Chapter 3

Morgan hated to admit it, but for once Reilly had been true to his word. The neural diving rig he had sent over was state of the art. The rig cost more than it had to construct her entire makeshift body. The expensive device only served to confirm her suspicions that there was much more to this than he had led them to believe.
She had learned from experience in dealing with the good Commander he usually had an ulterior motive for his actions, especially when he was uncharacteristically generous. He didn’t do anything unless he thought there was something to be gained.
Reilly’s paranoia, concerning the possibility of rogue Enforcers, was not unjustified. The ITC was as cutthroat as any of the Mega Corporations when it came to promotions. Someone could have orchestrated this whole affair for the sole purpose of getting ahead in the ITC. A scandal like this would mean the ITC would need scapegoat, a high ranking one.
Morgan shrugged. She adjusted the data flow of the rig so that it was in sync with her own terminal. Mercedes had more than her share of flaws, but at least she had never succumbed to the lure of office and prestige.

Morgan turned a silver knob to place her own brain patterns in sequence with the system and donned the rig. The device was portable, attaching directly to the terminal, but it also featured an emergency patch outlet if she needed to hook it up to another system in a hurry.
It even had a wrist control keypad that could be used for wading if necessary. The chances for brain death were greatly reduced during a wade, however so were your abilities to manipulate the quasi-world of divers to one’s will.
A smile graced her partial lips when she heard a loud snore emitting from her partner lying with arms and legs spread out on the fold out bed in the center of the tiny studio apartment.
She suppressed a giggle. She recollected Merc’s reaction upon entering the armory. It had reminded Morgan of a wide-eyed child on a trip to a toy store. The woman drooled over the vast array of weaponry laid out before her. She had rushed up and handled each item, removing them from the long shelves they had been stored in, then casting them aside when another caught her attention. She nearly gave the ordnance officer a coronary, disrupting his well-organized inventory.
After Merc had handled and played with most of the side arms, she settled upon two pistols. One was a laser type, and the other a gauss weapon. She also picked up a rail rifle with an artificial light scope and a target-tracking computer installed.
“Great for penetrating armor,” she said gleefully, placing it on the pile along with some ammo. Mercedes even added a grenade launcher with an assortment of various projectiles for when they needed some real serious firepower to the collection. Morgan shuddered at the thought of such a lethal piece of hardware in the hands of her partner.
“Hopefully we can get through this without her blowing up more than a city block,” Morgan muttered to herself. She loved the veteran Enforcer dearly, but she did have a tendency to shoot first and worry about any repercussions later.
They did have some disagreement on the type of car they should choose. Merc had wanted something fast and sporty, while Morgan preferred a more stylish vehicle, something with a touch of class. They finally compromised, and picked a black Aries 3000sx. It was fast, and had a nice
sleek appearance to it. This model was also a popular make with Corpers so it would not be so obvious in those sectors during their investigation.
Obviously, they couldn’t leave the car outside their office for fear of it being stolen or stripped. The Xeon police department contracted to protect the squalid sector did little to blunt the high crime rate. There was no profit in that.
They decided to leave the Aries in the garage behind Mother Shome’s tavern. It was the most logical location and no one in their right mind would be suicidal enough to try and rob the grand old dame.
Reaching down, Morgan felt the metal stanchions that now served for her legs. The walk to the apartment had been sheer torture. Phantom pain is what the doctor’s called it. Though it certainly felt real enough to her. She had been forced to lean heavily upon the slender shoulder of her friend when the pain and effort took their toll on her patchwork body.
The minute they entered the small apartment Morgan had torn off the mask that had hid her disfigured face. She hated wearing the thing, but it was better than enduring the looks of pity and revulsion on the faces of those she encountered on the streets. Still, it felt as if ants were crawling over her face every time she wore the damn thing.
When they returned, Merc had prepared them something to eat and brought her a good stiff drink to ease the pain in lieu of the drugs. It was sweet for her partner to try, though Merc was hardly the domestic type, and her cooking left something to be desired. There were times Morgan almost wished her taste buds had been destroyed in the explosion.
An impish smile crossed her face. She made the final adjustments to the data flow. All she needed to do was try it on a real dive. First, however, she decided it might be amusing to test one of the special accessories that had been included with this new rig.
“Wake up!” She shouted into the microphone on the head set. Morgan watched while Merc sat bolt upright and grabbed her ears, wincing in pain from the sudden outburst.
Mercedes yanked out the pistol she had stashed under her pillow and scanned the area for intruders. Morgan couldn’t help but laugh at her startled partner’s reaction.
“My, you wake up jumpy these days,” Morgan snickered. “Perhaps you shouldn’t sleep with a loaded pistol under your pillow. I wouldn’t want to be blown away going to the toilet.”
Mercedes lowered her pistol. An angry sneer curled on her lips when she observed her partner giggling. “You think that’s funny?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” Morgan replied, taking a deep breath, trying in vain to keep from laughing at the dark cloud on her friend’s face. “I’m sorry. I wanted to test this new neural audio connection they gave us and noticed you went to sleep with it still in your ear. I guess it works.”
Mercedes removed the small silver disc and slapped it on the table. “I would say the damn thing works fine,” Mercedes stuck a finger in her ear and wiggled it about. “I still don’t see why we are bothering with these gizmos.”
“Because, now we can communicate while I am in a dive or you are out on the streets. It should greatly enhance our effectiveness as a team. Honestly, you can be so dense sometime.”
“Fine!” Mercedes threw up her hands. “I will wear the stupid thing in my ear. Will that make you happy?”
“Now if you will just wear the contacts,”
“I told you before I am not sticking those things on my eyes,” Merc crossed her arms.
“Fine. But when you are being overwhelmed by a slew of goons and need some back up, don’t come crying to me.”
“Okay, okay. I will wear the stupid contacts too, anything to stop your constant nagging. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.” Morgan smiled. “And I don’t nag. I only explain what should be obvious advantages. It’s not my fault it takes time to get things through that thick red haired head of yours.”
“Whatever. So can I get some sleep now or do you have any more little experiments you want to conduct on me?”
“No. I just wanted to make sure the connection operated properly. Of course, we could test out the visual portion of the package now that you’re up.”
“Tomorrow,” Mercedes yawned. She flopped back down on the bed. “I am too tired to be poking my eyes right now.”
“No problem,” Morgan answered while her partner fell back into a sound slumber.
She began to tap the keys of the console, activating the new rig. Once she gained access, Morgan could operate the system with her thoughts alone. With this new apparatus her, speed in the net should be increased with little, if any lag.
The dingy apartment’s ugly yellow-green walls melted around her to be replaced by a kaleidoscope of swirling colors and flashing lights. Soon, a luxurious bedroom with a four-poster bed tucked in the corner with a lace canopy solidified before her. The walls of the virtual boudoir were a pastel blue.
Morgan gazed at her now beautiful arms comprised of soft supple flesh once more. She ran her delicate tapered fingers down her smooth shapely legs.
A large circular dressing mirror with a gold etched frame materialized before her. A smile formed on Morgan’s perfect full lips when she viewed her nude body. It was perfect. Just as it was prior to the terrible explosion.
This was the only time Morgan could stand to look at herself in a mirror. The sight of her real body unclothed was too much for her to stomach these days. Even Merc had trouble at times hiding the look of revulsion on her face on the rare times Morgan was undressed.
Morgan had been a beauty queen before entering the ITC. She had won the title Miss Traxis-4, and was even first runner-up for Miss Galaxy. She would have won too if that green skinned bitch from Oruian hadn’t bribed the judges.
Morgan could have been anything she wanted. She was bright and attractive with scads of offers for holo movie roles. Morgan, however, wanted to do more with her life than that. She wanted to be more than some sycophant living off her beauty and charm; she wanted to make a difference.
Various stylish outfits appeared on her body while Morgan recollected the first time she had encountered Merc. The woman had been cleaning her gun and barley gave her a second glance when she introduced herself.
Morgan was not used to being ignored and the brusque manner in which the veteran enforcer brushed aside her greeting piqued her interest.
In typical fashion, Mercedes did not bother to hide her opinion of her new partner. She saw Morgan as nothing more than a bored spoiled princess who had developed a sudden itch to play cops and robbers and told her so.
Morgan had heard Merc was a sullen, ill-tempered individual with a tendency to speak her mind and had difficulty getting along with other officers. She was also reputed to be one of the best Enforcers in the ITC.
That is why Morgan had pushed to work with her. She wanted to learn from the best and from all accounts, that would be Enforcer investigative grade Mercedes Deville. She had earned that position due to her abilities, not through corporate politics.
Morgan suddenly flashed back to that horrible time in the spaceport. She and Merc had just thwarted an anarchist determined to disrupt trade, by crippling a major spaceport. He had left one more surprise, a bomb in the terminal. Morgan knew the suit wouldn’t protect her despite what she had told Merc when she pushed her aside and snatched up the mechanism, shielding it with her body. She had expected to die that day. There were times she wished she had.
“Come on Morgan, enough of this pity party. There is work to do.” Morgan shook her head to regain her concentration.
Morgan decided at last upon a silver jump suit and a huge black leather trench coat. Next, she formed a flashing blue sword and a pistol. The creations, like her body, served as focuses for her mind.
In a battle between divers, it often came down to who could think the quickest and had the strongest will. She started down the long sparkling corridor of bright blue light with its myriad of exits leading to different terminals. Not that she expected much trouble on this dive, but one never knew. She tapped the sword strapped to her side. It was best to be prepared.
After a brief walk through the wide tube representing the information highway, she spotted a conduit in the form of a door with the symbol of an eagle looking down at the galaxy, the emblem of the ITC.
Morgan examined the door for alarms and traps. There were a few, but nothing one with her skill in debugging couldn’t handle. “You’d think ITC would get some better programmers,” Morgan sighed, slightly disappointed from the lack of a challenge. Then again, she had to admit most of protective devices would dissuade all but the most skilled divers.
Trying the door, she discovered it was locked. An electronic lock pick formed in her hand. After several seconds, she had managed to decode the password and opened the door, representing the access point to ITC’s main terminal.
She slowly opened the door. A hall of green came into view dotted with conduits leading to different information ports.
Just before stepping into the hall, Morgan caught sight of several red and blue bulldog like creatures patrolling up and down aisle.
“How cute, watchdogs,” Morgan said with an amused smile. “So delightfully old-fashioned.”
Morgan reached in her pocket and drew out several data bones she carried with her for situations like this, and tossed them in front of her. The virtual beasts ran up and gobbled down the data bits.
“Nice doggies,” Morgan patted one on the head while she sauntered past.
Locating the tube leading to the Enforcer section, Morgan leaped up into it. She was swept down it like it was a water slide. Her slide was halted with a jarring thud when she slammed into a hard smooth piece of black ice.
She drew out her sword and slashed at the barrier. The frozen block evaporated upon contact with the blue flame of her sword in which she had coded some of her best hacking programs. Now, if she had managed to crack the ice before the protection device was activated. Morgan’s heart sank. She heard a low guttural growl behind her. She had not been quick enough.
Morgan dodged left in time to avoid a small, horned demon when it tried to land on her back. Black Ice often had demon protectors added. It was one of the most dangerous of the safeguards. She drew her pistol and snap fired at the beast.
There was a blinding flash of light. Its pixels flashed then vanished. Morgan listened carefully for any alarms.
Satisfied she had managed to nullify the problem before anything serious occurred, she scurried through the tube. Still, she couldn’t afford to waste anymore time. Sooner or later, a programmer would notice the ice was broken and the demon was gone. Then they would drop a virtual net around their system and trap her.
“Come on girl,” Morgan ordered. “Get that cute butt of yours in gear.” She hurriedly scanned the various doors till she located the one with the words ‘Enforcer Active Case Files’ emblazoned upon it.
She stepped into a room filled with filing cabinets. One marked “confidential” caught her eye. Using her key, Morgan cracked the code and began to pour through the files quickly as possible.
After opening several files she came across one entitled the Bishop incident. “Nice way of hiding the data,” Morgan observed. Then again, Reilly never had much of an imagination.
Morgan used her camera, and took several snapshots downloading the files while she began to scan the information. She had been correct, there was more to this than Reilly had let on.
It seemed that the ITC was being held directly responsible for the kidnapping. The Church even accused them of orchestrating the abduction though they had been assured this was not the case. Somehow, Reilly had convinced the Church leaders to keep quiet for now by suggesting that too much publicity might make the kidnappers nervous and they would most likely kill their captive outright. The Church had agreed to the arrangement,
but they were threatening to expose the conspiracy. Gerard Walcott, the senior Deacon of the church, had even traveled here to oversee the situation.
She noted there was mention of ‘GLOW’, the Global Liberation of Womynkind front as possible suspects in this case. That would figure.
Since Domni Forutnato had taken over as the leader, the group had become more radical in their actions and policies. She had written several letters of protest to the ITC . She had even made a few veiled threats and stated that she could not be held responsible for the actions of her sisters, who may be incensed by such an atrocious act, allowing the Deacon and his retroactive church to be legitimized.
“Keeping your hands clean Domni,” Morgan thought.
The Bishop’s archaic views toward women would be just the thing to attract her attention. Still, why kidnap him? Why not just kill the fool and be done with it? And why would they want the company signed over? Unless perhaps to finance some new scheme of that firebrand Domni? Too many questions and not enough answers.
Morgan felt certain there was more to this. The ITC being blamed was bad, but nothing new. It certainly didn’t warrant taking the unusual measures he had taken by hiring private investigators.
“What are you hiding Reilly?” She remarked. “And where did you place it?”
Before she could begin her search the room began to flash bright blue. “Great,” Morgan sighed. “The programmer must have come back from his coffee break.”
Closing the file, Morgan dove through the chute. A dark cloud began to form about her. With a shout, she drew her sword and slashed through the web before it could ensnare her and stumbled out into the hall.
A laser shot whizzed past her ear. Morgan tumbled backwards just in time to avoid a shotgun blast. She glanced down the hall to see three divers clad in ITC blue, blocking her path.
“Surrender,” One of them commanded. He leveled his weapon at her.
The defenders were taking positions along the hall in a fashion one would use in the real world to block her path. “Rookies,” Morgan muttered under her breath. She ran up the wall.
The man with the shotgun fired while the others stared. Morgan waved her hand and a shield appeared. The pellets bounced off the barrier
and back at her foe. Morgan shifted to the ceiling. She ran past those in front, swinging her sword.
“Next time boys remember its better to use a melee weapon against other divers. One of them flashed when he fell to the ground and disappeared. The others hugged the floor as she sped past.
Morgan somersaulted down and flung open the door and exited out into the free data stream once again. Once outside the ITC port, they would not be able to track her.
Morgan took a deep breath. That was too close. She had to remember to be more careful in the future. Unlike Merc, she preferred to avoid direct confrontations if possible.
Suddenly a disc of silver light whizzed past her ear. Morgan tumbled in the opposite direction of the projectile. How did a foe manage to detect her in the data stream?
Morgan’s eyes went wide with terror. She glanced over in the direction the disc had originated. A tall slender figure clad in black tossed another disc.
Morgan performed a back flip, barely avoiding the weapon. “A Data Ninja!” Morgan gasped. She scrambled back to her feet. Only one of those skilled virtual assassins could detect another diver in the stream. They must have been waiting for her to leave the ITC gate.
Behind her, she could hear the crackling energy. The ninja rapidly began to close. This was hopeless, there was no way she could outrun the ninja. Morgan fired the pistol behind her. The Ninja easily dodged the shots without slowing its pace. This was not good. The assassin was playing with her, like a cat with a frightened mouse. He could increase his speed and take her whenever he wanted.
Suddenly, a tunnel opened up to her right. Someone was using a side access to cover his or her actions.
Morgan dove into the tunnel just before it closed. She had no idea where this stream would take her and right now she didn’t care. Anyplace would be better than where she was.
Morgan landed on a cold stone floor. The torches surrounding the dim room gave off an eerier light. Her lovely stretch sliver suit was now a black leather corset and panties. She nearly toppled over in an attempt to stand on
what appeared to be a pair of thigh high platformed boots with six-inch stiletto heals.
“Well this is different,” Morgan said, looking over her new attire.
“You don’t look like you did in the Vis COM,” a man’s voice accused her.
Morgan looked up to see an overweight balding man in a black leather bikini bottom. Morgan swallowed hard to keep from laughing while the man stood with his hands on his hips, his bloated stomach hanging over the tiny bikini briefs.
“Change of plans,” Morgan remarked with a casual shrug.
“Well I sent my creds for Devilina. “I am going to contact them now. This is unsatisfactory.”
Morgan felt panic well up inside her. If the tunnel was reopened the ninja might detect her. “No don’t.” Morgan commanded. “I can assure you, you won’t be disappointed. Besides, if you access again you might take a chance of err…. exposing yourself.”
“Well… you are more attractive than Devilina.”
“So why don’t you be a good boy and come over here.”
“And if I am a bad boy, mommy spank?” He said with a look of eagerness.
Morgan rolled her eyes. She formed a black riding crop in her right hand. This was going to be a long night.