THE MYSTERIOUS LADY HA

Garth put a call through to Sa Herrig the moment he got out of the elevator. With one legal claim denied and the other rubber stamped, the lawyer/banker must’ve worked himself into a good lather; with the bulk of legal proceedings involving the government handled by very sophisticated law-avatars, the intervention of an actual, living human being was akin to Divine Intervention. Herrig, who’d filed his client’s claim of ownership only after couching the phrasing carefully enough that it would be too dry and tedious for a person to read, had to be freaking out.

“Sa Garth!” Herrig’s voice squeaked out of the proteus. He sounded frantic. “Thank goodness! I’ve been trying to locate you for an hour now! Your case has been …”

Garth interrupted Sa Herrig midsentence. Down at the other end of the hall, lounging like a malignant tumor, was the burly IndoRussian Injiri’d pointed out during the melee that morning. He didn’t look pleased to see Garth. “Hey, Herrig, let me call you back, all right?” He thumbed the ‘end’ button and waited.

Marko straightened up and stood in the middle of the hallway. Marko came close to matching the awesome size of God soldier. He pointed at Garth. “You killed my brother.”

“Oh?” Garth said, subtly shifting his muscles. The hallway wasn’t very big, and Marko was going to take up most of the available space, so he needed to be as flexible as possible. “You guys don’t look related.”

“Brothers of the Iron Skull.” Marko grated, his voice full of loathing. Learning that Garth had been snatched up by agents had been upsetting, but now that the bastard was back and unharmed, he felt better. It was going to be fun, dismantling the little bastard.

“Oh.” Garth almost ruined the moment by laughing. The Iron Skull was a pitifully small mercenary organization that more often than not found their ‘soldiers’ routed by local police officers. They weren’t even nasty enough to gain the attention of Glass Hammer. “Well, shit, fella, I was trying to get a room, and you’re brother was getting all up in my face.”

Marko let loose with a bellow of rage and charged Garth, hands grasping for the head or neck. Garth dropped to his knees just as Marko got close enough to grab him with his huge mitts, clamped a hand on the IndoRussians testicles and heaved with all his might. Screams of rage became shrieks of agony as Marko slammed into the thick elevator doors, leaving a skull shaped dent behind. The IndoRussian picked himself up off the floor, spat out a tooth and came at Garth again, this time practicing a little more caution; instead of charging like an idiot bull, he approached his opponent warily, weaving his hands back and forth.

Garth let Marko move him down the hall, watching the rhythm of his opponent’s motions. The hairy giant’s favored art was probably grappling or throwing, neither of which would do him a lot of good in the hallway. Sheer fluke had sent Marko into the elevator doors instead of the ceiling; his intention had been to knock the creep out and go on with the rest of his day. With the initial engagement over and done with, there was nothing for it but to have a quick and dirty dance with the big IndoRussian. When Garth was sure Marko’s next attack was figured out, he stopped moving and let the beast come to him.

Marko grinned as he stepped closer, tingling in anticipation of the kill. He lashed out with a speed he knew confused most of his opponents –they always made the mistake of thinking because he was big, he wasn’t fast. His thick fingers snatched the side of Garth’s head in a vise-like grip and he shouted incoherently, pulling the soon-to-be dead man in for the crush.

Wondering if he was ever going to find a chef or cook with sufficient scope and vision to see the dream of a real hamburger or properly made pizza pie, Garth let himself be drawn closer into the sweaty, stinky grasp. The pressure on the right side of his head wasn’t enough to hurt on its own, but as soon as Marko started trying to squeeze the life out of him, it’d get uncomfortable. When it looked like Marko was fully committed to the old bear hug cliché, Garth started moving.

Quickly.

It wasn’t until the bone tore through his skin that Marko realized his right hand had been broken at the wrist. Suddenly dazed from the shock, Marko tried to back away.

Garth anticipated the move and slid one of his legs in, immobilizing Marko. Another impossibly fast hammer-strike forced a another gasp out of Marko as his left wrist shattered; the force of this second attack was so great that the IndoRussian’s hand was driven into the drywall up to the elbow.

Letting Marko go, Garth moved back a few paces so he could snap-kick the man in the midsection. Marko let out a bark of confusion-addled pain as all the air in his lungs disappeared. Driven to his knees by the shocking attack, Marko could do nothing but whimper in pain as his arm was pulled out of its socket with an audible pop. To make matters worse, the thick drywall cut nastily into the flesh.

Marko looked up, desperate to beg for his life, to apologize, but when he saw the blazing fury in Garth’s ice-blue eyes, he saw the truth: he’d be lucky to die quickly. Ignoring the pain in his left arm, Marko struggled to his feet and did his best to keep his assailant at arms reach.

Garth slapped the broken hand negligently out of his way and stepped in. Grabbing hold of Marko’s sweat-soaked hair, he forced the semi-conscious Contestant to focus.

“Listen to me, you dumbass.” Garth slapped Marko around until the IndoRussian focused. A thick trail of drool oozed from a slack jaw. “Every time one of you fuckers fights outside the Contest, you make a mistake by letting other people see your style. You might be king shit in your little corner of the world, and if you live beyond today, you might actually make some money. But if you come near me again, I swear to Christ I’ll break more than just your wrists and a few ribs. Understand?”

Scarcely coherent it was all Marko could do to nod before passing out.

“Good.” Garth pulled Marko out of the wall, wincing as the hard drywall peeled a thick chunk of skin from the now unconscious man’s left hand. Hoping the hotel staff wouldn’t be overly upset at the trail of blood, Garth dragged Marko down the hallway until he found the laundry chute he’d spotted the day before. He grinned. Ever since seeing the chute, he’d been eager to stuff someone inside, and Marko was lucky that he was as broad as he was; rather than plummet the fifteen floors to the basement, the silly bastard’d get stuck as it narrowed. When he came to, his shouts would bring help. Garth stuffed Marko into the chute, grimaced at the damaged, blood-splattered wall, and the dent in the elevator door. When Mijomi figured out who to blame for the destruction, there’d be a no-holds-barred anti-Offworld caterwaul shriek powerful enough to lay waste to entire cities.

More or less satisfied with the way things had gone, Garth wiped his hands on his pants and then went into his room.

The first thing he wanted to do was check on the Stretch and the credit chips, so he naturally avoided even looking at the chair. If the unnamed agent really did think he was stupid enough to imagine that the proteus wasn’t just bombed but bugged as well, then the OverSecretary needed to hire a new staff as soon as possible. Already healthily paranoid about the level of surveillance possible with the Latelian’s phenomenal grasp of wireless technology and the ubiquitous proteus, it was simply not smart to think otherwise. So rather than pick up the cushion on the big seat, Garth washed his hands and face free of blood and plaster before placing a second call to Sa Herrig.

The large Sheet in the living picked up the protean signal as it was passed through the room’s hidden WI-FI connections, activating itself when the Bank’s main system accepted the request. Fascinated, Garth plopped down on a chair and waited for Sa Herrig’s pudgy face to appear.

Herrig visibly relaxed, his abnormally pale face regaining some color as soon as he saw it was Garth returning his call. Over the last hour and a half he’d tried to get in touch with his client no less than fifty times. He wiped his sweaty brow with a bright red handkerchief. “Where have you been?”

“Around and about.” Garth said mildly. No good could come of involving Herrig in the bizarre counter-politics of Latelian government. “What’s up?”

“Your case is what’s up!” Herrig practically shouted, indignant. “Summarily canceled without even a day’s worth of procedure! I spent the entire night programming my legal avatars with ironclad proof you own that Box, and it gets shut down! I assure you, Sa Garth, I will not rest until I get to the bottom of this. Everyone’s claims, no matter how ludicrous they may seem, are entitled to due process. It’s the whole reason the Latelians use these legal protean avatars. It separates the wheat from the chaff! And your claim, which I admit I thought was fraudulent is not chaff! This response, with an official seal, proves it.” Herrig waved the legal document, actual paper with fancy writing, at the Sheet.

Garth motioned for Herrig to calm down. The pudgy banker, used to nothing more exciting than filling out a form or two a day, was getting dangerously red in the face. “Calm down, Sa Herrig. Relax. I know all about it.”

“You … you do?” Herrig’s eyes widened. “Someone talked to you?”

“Sorta.” Thinking quickly, Garth said, “The riot during the weigh-in apparently got a lot of people upset, and some guys showed up today to ask me some questions. At first I thought they were blaming me for starting the fucking thing, but partway through the conversation, I realized they were talking about my claims. They told me that even though I was likely to go from avatar to human representation very quickly, it wouldn’t go any further than that. I don’t know what the hell’s going on around here, sa, but I get the feeling a lot of people are seriously unhappy. Unhappy enough that if some Offworld goon from Trinity –the least favorite sort of person to most Latelians- gets a stab at the Box without winning the Contest, some kind of war could break out.”

Herrig saw wisdom in Garth’s opinion. As admitted, his initial feelings on Garth’s absurd claims had later changed to solid belief, but if, the horrific scene at something as innocuous as a weigh-in was indicative of the dark mood running through the public, the outbreak of violence from an Herrig nodded hesitantly. “It’s the right thing to do, Sa Garth, even if it is a violation of your rights.”

“I’ll get my chance anyway, when I win the Offworld Contest.” Garth said, emanating supreme confidence. A few of the serious Contestants would offer up some interesting challenges, but if the changes he was going through progressed, by the time the final rounds came up, he’d be faster than lightning and able to bench press entire buildings.

“I’ll be sure to place a small wager on you myself.” Herrig said, immensely relaxed now that he’d managed to talk things through with his client. “Oh, by the way, congratulations on your emigration. I presume that it was given to you to keep you quiet concerning your claims, but it has been legally upheld. You’ve got a few months’ probation to work through, to prove you’re here for a reason beyond anything reprehensible. When I moved here at the bank’s behest, I was questioned every week or so about my daily routine, why I went here, why I did this, that sort of thing. It’s incredibly invasive, but from what I gather, someone in office is deeply concerned about our sovereign status. The moment I passed, though, I was left to my own devices.”

“Thanks, Sa Herrig. Oh, I was wondering something…”

“Yes?”

“With this crapload of money I’ve got, I’ve been thinking about what you said to me when we first met. About Conglomerating and all that? If you could look into what it takes to set that up, I’d be very grateful. I’ve got a lot on my plate with the Contest and all the things we’re supposed to do …”

“I … ah … well, it’s not really my forte, Sa Garth. I’m only a practicing lawyer because it’s what I did before I switched to banking … I suppose I could look into the particulars and get back to you …”

“If you’re worried about money, Herrig, feel free to draw on my funds.” Garth was so wealthy now that he was mentally incapable of registering the concept of money; even if Herrig went completely batshit and started siphoning out millions of credits an hour, it’d take so long to empty the account that he’d draw attention. Besides that, Garth had a chip on him with about ninety million Trinity dollars on it, so unless he decided to buy himself another spaceship, there was no worry about running short. “This isn’t something that needs to happen overnight, sa. Take your time. After all, I’m a citizen now.”

“Oh, ah. Well, in that case, I’d be delighted to gather some information for you.” Herrig positively beamed.

“If this gets off the ground, Sa Herrig, I want you to know I will seriously consider employing you as my Chief Financial Officer.” Garth said his goodbyes and finished up the call, letting Herrig get back to the incredibly mundane chore of Latelian economics.

Garth checked the time, and decided to place another call, this time to the World of Protean Might. He’d promised to get back to Sa Turuin before the end of the day about a new delivery address for his main. Sa Turuin looked slightly out of sorts as he answered.

“Yes, Sa Garth?”

Garth was confused at the change in Turuin’s attitude from before, but said nothing. “Uh, I’m calling with the new address for delivery of the network.”

Turuin gave something off-screen his full attention for more than twenty seconds before answering. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to take the data over the network. There seems to be something wrong with the store’s feeds, sa. If you could come in?”

“But I could just …” Garth wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw something in Turuin’s demeanor that he needed trusting. “Sure, yeah. I’ll be down in, what, ten, fifteen minutes?”

Sa Turuin smiled. “That would be wonderful. See you then, sa.”

Garth ended the communication, a frown creasing his face. He had the funny feeling that the Latelians’ number two, unofficial, sport was espionage; in a system where everything and everyone was connected together, a subculture dedicated to figuring out how to beat that system had to rise up. It wasn’t possible to point to anything definitive in Turuin’s actions just now that said anything other than a broken network feed, but Garth was a man who followed his hunches. For whatever reason, Turuin needed to see him in person, and quickly, and his gut said it had something to do with his new, illegal, bomb-laden proteus.

Before entering the shop, Garth spent another ten minutes reconnoitering the surrounding area by walking swiftly around the block in three different directions. The agent’s warning still rang loud and clear in his mind; any watchdogs set to follow him around might take a sudden, unexpected visit to a proteus shop after receiving an explosive prote as shifty. All it’d take was a single sniper round to the back of the head to put Garth N’Chalez out of business for eternity. Satisfied that he wasn’t being tailed by anyone Garth entered.

Sa Turuin perked his head up the moment the door chimed. When he saw Garth , he gestured to the other two salesmen. Ham-Za and Marin nodded politely to Garth as they left, locking the door behind them. The strangely cryptic salesman gestured for Garth to follow him into the back room.

Garth followed Turuin through a haphazard array of proteii, the machines that made them, half-completed orders and work tables filled with machines in various stages of repair. He started to talk, but the look on Turuin’s face was enough to convince him to keep his yap shut. Then Turuin did something interesting: he tapped Garth’s proteus and then pointed to one of his eyes.

“I really am sorry to have to bring you down here, Sa Garth.” Turuin chattered as he led Garth down a flight of stairs. “The network has been acting up for a couple of hours now and a lot of customer information is ruined.”

“Hey,” Garth said casually, wondering just where in the hell Turuin was leading him, “not a problem. I didn’t have anything else going on until later today anyway.”

“Excellent, excellent.” Turuin took a left when they reached the bottom of the stairwell and pointed to the door at the end of the hall. “Have you had any problems with your proteus? Any questions or anything?”

“Not really.” Garth followed Turuin closely, ready to snap the man’s neck like a dry twig at a moment’s sign of danger. The impeccably dressed protean salesman opened the door and ushered Garth in. As they both passed through the threshold, the small hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he discerned a very subtle, high-pitched whine threading itself through the air. “We’re in a safe room, aren’t we?”

Turuin raised an eyebrow at Garth’s guess. “Yes, as a matter of fact, we are. This room is network-dead. The main system for the building is currently running an audio program that has the both of us discussing a number of pointless things. Where did you get that proteus?”

“Someone gave it to me.” Garth hedged. He understood that Turuin wasn’t who he pretended to be, proving beyond a shadow of doubt that espionage was the secret pastime on Hospitalis. Learning this didn’t bother Garth at all, but until he had an opportunity to figure out who was working for whom and what everyone’s hidden agenda was, Turuin wasn’t getting anything more interesting than his first name.

Turuin nodded briskly at Garth’s hedge. “It doesn’t really matter. I know it’s not the one I made you. Do you know that?”

“I do.” Just who was Sa Turuin the effeminate proteus salesman?

“That proteus,” Turuin moved closer so he could get a better look, “is a military piece of hardware, Sa Garth There are astonishingly few ways to get hold of one, even if you’re Latelian by birth, which begs the question: how did you come by yours? Since there are no bulletins for your arrest, I assume you didn’t steal it … these things are as closely monitored as the Chairwoman’s heartbeat. Therefore, the only possible explanation is that you’re on someone’s payroll. Are you?”

Garth decided to gamble and trust the Turuin he was seeing now; the man’s entire demeanor had changed, the pensive, almost furtive way he was talking gave off the vibe that he was taking a considerable risk. “They think I am.”

“And why,” Turuin said, moving to a control panel, “would they think that?” He popped it open, read the report being posted there, and turned to confront Garth.

‘They think I’m a spy for Trinity because of my service record.” When Turuin didn’t ask why someone well-connected would think something so utterly ridiculous, Garth knew he was dealing with a well informed agent. It didn’t matter who Turuin worked for or what his agenda was because Garth’s gut was telling him their little sub rosa meeting wasn’t about anything more than his new proteus.

“Are you?” Turuin demanded, moving to another control panel, repeating his actions from a few moments ago.

“No.”

“Why would they give you a military proteus?” Turuin nodded to himself, satisfied that the subterfuge was working. “One that is, if you don’t mind me pointing out, carrying enough explosive to turn you into a memory at the slightest provocation.”

“Yeah, I know. They gave it to me because they think I’m a spy for Trinity. They think I’m here to destabilize your society so Trinity can roll on in and take the place over. The person who hooked me up thinks he can force me to do something I don’t want to out of self-preservation. Hell,” Garth added, “he prolly thinks once I do whatever it is, he can use the proof as leverage against Trinity.”

“And will you?” Turuin stepped forward suddenly. “Will you, even if you’re asked to kill the Chairwoman?”

Garth decided Turuin was Secret Service or some other equally charged organization. He wasn’t about to tell Turuin that if killing the Chairwoman brought him in contact with the Box, it would happen, because until he found out whether or not the Box on display in the Historical Museum was the real deal or not, all bets were off.

“I told the guy who talked to me what he wanted to hear, sa. He was absolutely convinced I’m a spy working for Trinity and no amount of talk could’ve changed his mind. He made a few not-so-subtle hints that he wants me to do something that will affect your lives and a few even heavier-handed threats against my life. I’m a foreigner in a very hostile country, Turuin, and I would have said anything to get out of that room.” Turuin’s expression said he wasn’t going to pick up what was being put down, so Garth changed directions. “Yeah, I could have gotten out of there all on my own, but I would’ve left a trail of bodies a mile wide and power vacuum at who knows what level of government. I don’t have many friends here and even if I somehow managed to get off the planet, there’s the little matter of the God Army all hanging out comparing war wounds. I wouldn’t get too far.”

“Either you are the most accomplished liar in the universe or you’re telling the absolute truth.” Turuin raised his own proteus. “I’m running the most sophisticated voice stress analysis programs Lately or Trinity have ever seen, sa, and you passed with flying colors. So the OverSecretary gave you that proteus and wants you to do something awful.”

“I never said it was him.”

Turuin laughed. “You don’t have to. OverSecretary Terrance’s interests are shared by many people, most of whom initially put him in his office, but only he’s capable of moving directly against the Chairwoman. Granted, this latest ploy is completely off the mark in terms of legality, but he’s desperate; it might not seem like it, but the Chairwoman’s decision to introduce our society into mainstream Trinity is gaining a strong headwind. Terrance wants to be the man who controls the new deals, to profit from them.”

“Yeah, but why’d you pick him? I bet plenty of Conglomerates in this system would like to have more control over your access to Trinity. After all, there’s zero trade beyond the brain drain.”

Turuin gestured for Garth to look at his protean screen. “Beyond the political and financial reasons for Terrance’s motives, the explosives built into your proteus are favored by high-ranking secret agents. Since I know for a fact that Chairwoman Doans hasn’t yet authorized your death or sanctioned the revelation of secrets, there really is only one person who could be involved.”

“You going to want this proteus?”

“Sa, if I took that proteus from you, I could very definitely dispose of it in a way that wouldn’t attract any attention. However, once the data packet it was supposed to have sent off doesn’t arrive, they’ll send someone out to collect you.” Turuin smiled tightly. “No… you’re stuck with it.”

“This thing isn’t transmitting real-time?”

“For various reasons, very little observation these days is done real-time, especially right now. The Contest, the gameheads, and all the networks are using four hundred percent the normal bandwidth. We’ve had to install hundreds of new relay stations just to keep everything running smoothly.”

“Then why in the hell am I here?”

“Since you were effectively coerced into putting that thing on, I can make you an offer. It’s a one-time deal, and expires the moment you make your decision. There will be no recanting.”

Against better judgment, Garth found he trusted Turuin. “Sounds fair. Let me hear it.”

“There is a person who can manipulate the monitoring programs on your proteus so that any data the listening post receives is utterly innocuous. I don’t pretend to understand the specifics of it, because Lady Ha is the best programmer this system has ever seen. Suffice it to say that even if you went into the OverSecretary’s offices and shot him dead, the people monitoring your packets would think you went to the local grocery store to buy some fruit. She can also, if given enough incentive, render the detonator-program inoperative and liberate more functionality.”

“Incentive.”

“Lady Ha is not an operative, sa. She is an independent citizen who does things for us from time to time. In exchange for her services, we don’t arrest her for breaking every single one of our laws concerning computerized theft. She’s a hacker, sa, and is the best. The most we’ve ever asked of her is the occasional illicit wiretap or audio spoof. Helping you will possibly bring her into the line of fire. OverSec Terrance is not a nice man, Garth, and will do whatever it takes to keep his intrigues secret.” Turuin gave Garth a moment to absorb all of that before speaking. “There’s one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I … I … will need some compensation before I contact her.” Turuin shrugged at the flash of irritation on Garth’s face. “It’s the way it is, Garth. Marin and Ham-Za aren’t agents, they were providing me with a safe location to operate from. By invoking an executive order, I effectively ruined any further chance to work from here. In all likelihood, I’ll have to disappear for awhile. I can’t contact the Chairwoman at the moment, least of all because it seems like the OverSec is planning to move against her. My discretionary funds are tapped out, and I’ve already been here for two months longer than I should’ve been. An external source forced me to remain.”

“How much is it going to cost?” Garth asked, continuing to play the part of the irritated, misunderstood Offworld foreign devil being forced into things he had no patience for.

“Hundred thousand each.”

Garth had to fight from losing his cool right there. Two hundred thousand credits was a drop in the Croesian bucket. He’d have willingly gone into the millions to be free of Terrance’s threats. Fussing unhappily, Garth made the transfer. “How can I be sure you’re going to give her the money?”

“She’s been listening in the whole time.” Turuin nodded as he transferred Lady Ha’s money.

“I thought this room is network dead?”

“It is, but again, Lady Ha is a master at her craft. She’s running a second network on top of the one already in use, and my proteus happens to be configured for it.”

“Sounds like she’s more of a danger than anyone else you’re ever going to meet.”

Turuin tried to picture Lady Ha doing anything more risky than going to a late night movie with friends and laughed. “Sa Garth, if you knew Lady Ha, you’d know that there isn’t a single person I trust more. She’s absolutely pacifistic in every area of her life except the Contest.” He motioned for Garth to leave the room.

“When is this going to happen?” Garth asked, walking towards the door, Turuin behind him.

“Either tonight or tomorrow morning, you’ll get an ad for something like a massage parlor or relaxation facility. Just go at the appointed time. Lady Ha will take care of the rest.”

“I don’t know how to thank you for your help.” For the first time since their discussion, Garth was being perfectly honest. Turuin had helped him out more than the man would ever know, and all he was likely to get in return was a completely destabilized country. “I’m going to continue surveillance on some of the OverSecretary’s other plans. The thing I was supposed to prevent in this area never happened, and with your money, I can move on. Just as long as I don’t see you cropping up in my investigations, I’ll be repaid plenty.” Turuin opened the door. “When we walk out of here, just thank me for all my help.”

“What about the address?”

Turuin couldn’t resist a smile. “When you get your proteus unlocked, the first thing you need to do is learn how to keep info secure. All right, ready?”

Garth bade his farewells to the friendly, slightly foppish Turuin-persona as they made their way toward the front door. Inwardly, he was fuming. He had no control over the situation. Everyone was operating on a level of control more profound than his own. The only thing currently going his way was the chance that this Lady Ha woman was on the up-and-up; until he got his bugged proteus fixed, he wasn’t going to be able to use it to flesh out the different ideas he was working on. It was going to be one hell of a long, boring night.