"So, what's the plan, big guy?" Said Rollie to Dirk, after seeing the size of the lineup outside of the Hyperwave.
"Like I said before: Have faith, and follow my lead." Dirk replied, with a grin that belonged to a used car salesman, and turned to Alex. "Ready to go?" He asked.
"I was born ready, Marine. Let's do this." Alex said, as she stepped off the curb, and they headed for the door, where a two hundred meter line of people waiting to enter began.
Rollie nearly blew it when the three of them got to where the club's doormen watched the entrance, and he nearly freaked out when the door opened, giving him a good look inside. One of the club's bouncers was an FBR.
Full Body Replacement cyborgs were rare, since very few people could pass the extensive screening process, much less afford the cost of the procedure. Dirk doubted that there were more than a handful of FBRs on Minotaur, certainly no more than a dozen. The resources to maintain - not just the cybernetics, but also mental health - were far more limited outside of Earth's solar system.
FBR Cyborgs were a byproduct of the fracturing of the United States of America into the United Northern States, the Western American Federation, and the New Confederate South. The second war of secession had been a long, drawn out affair, that only ended with the dissolution of the USA into three new, independent nation states. The UNS decided to move forward with cybernetic enhancement of its soldiers as a way of balancing the Confederacy's numerically superior military strength. The WAF followed a few months later, and were the first to field soldiers who had undergone total body prosthesis. Most of the original FBR cyborgs were soldiers who were facing major trauma to limbs and organs, or who were terminally ill, and even a few volunteers. The first series of soldiers fielded didn't quite meet the high expectations of the military commanders, but their successes gave enough proof of concept to warrant continued research and production. It was only after a few months that some of them began showing signs of psychological stress, and from there it was a matter of weeks until the first one had a full blown psychotic episode. That nameless soldier had the great misfortune to be at a public event when he finally lost control, killing over 30 people before an urban antiterrorism unit used an anti armor rifle to stop further bloodshed. There were other incidents over the next few years, as other FBRs also became catatonic, committed suicide, or turned into combat addicts. A few seemed to have no problem adjusting to their new circumstances over the long term, but even among those, there was the odd one who became a truly frightening sociopath, reveling in acts of horrific violence, yet outwardly normal. Needless to say, the newly formed Confederacy's religious leaders had no problem turning out propaganda that painted cybernetically enhanced, and modified soldiers, as 'the footsoldiers of Satan'.
The individual at the entrance to the club was over two meters tall, and had his body done in a mottled earth tone. He had a half dozen optics in the face of his chassis and the 'rabbit ears' that made up a part of his auditory sensors probably housed microcameras that could be used to see around corners without exposing him to things like enemy fire. He was dressed in ATACS camo fatigue pants, with a black T-shirt bearing the logo of a Marine Corp Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit, and the following message: 'I am an EOD specialist. If you see me running, try to keep up!'
It was a joke as old as dynamite, but it still got a laugh from people who'd never seen what high explosives did to the human body.
He was standing at the entryway when Dirk, Alex, and Rollie strolled up, and the cyborg twitched an 'ear' in their direction, and one of his optics turned to give him a visual ID.
"Line's over there, kids." He said, neutrally, tipping his head in the direction of the crowd snaking along the side of the building, and around the block.
Dirk grabbed Rollie, before his fear of FBRs - which were rooted in prejudices that originated on Earth, where he'd never been, ironically - got the better of him, and propelled him towards the door. Having made certain he wasn't going to bolt out of sheer terror, Dirk turned his attention to the doorman.
"You might want to check the list, mister, under the name 'Jester'. Pretty sure that we're on it. I can wait " He said to the cyborg, in a tone of martyred patience that he'd learned from an old Drill Sargent.
The 'borg must have recognized the tone more than the content of the request, because he kept his eyes on the three of them while checking the club's records. He muttered a 'Hunh' as he discovered that, indeed, there was a reservation under that name.
"Says here that the reservation was made today, which is mighty impressive, considering as how it normally takes up to four months. Unless you got an in with the owner that I don't know about?" He said, conversationally, now looking Dirk over with four of his six eyes.
Dirk simply smiled, and shrugged his shoulders without saying a thing.
There was very tense minute where he figured the game was up, and he was getting ready to grab Alex and Rollie, and make a run for it, when the 'borg lifted the old-fashioned red velvet rope across the entryway, and stepped aside to let them through. Dirk was smart enough to see that it would be a good idea to be generous, and palmed a 50 ASC note into the cyborg's hand as he shook it on the way in.
They stared at one another in recognition that they had both saved face, but said nothing further as the inner doors opened, and the lights, music, and background noise of the Known Sphere's hottest nightclub rushed up to greet the trio.
The club was built in an old building that had once been home to some kind of light industry, but had been completely gutted, and turned into a multi level combination of bar lounge, and a dance floor, with a stage at one end for live entertainment. Booths ringed the upper level on three sides, and there was a bar to cater to the clients who preferred to drink in comfort. The lower level had bars to either side on railed platforms along the walls with small, high tables at which patrons could stand, without having to juggle their drinks in a crowd of gyrating revelers.
Alex was already headed for the main floor, and Dirk let her go; she loved to dance, but Dirk was totally out of his depth on a dance floor, so he settled for watching her instead. He had to admit - if only to himself - that watching her swaying and twisting in time to the music resulted in a reflexive desire on his part. She waded into the sea of strangers unselfconsciously, and interacted with them completely without inhibition.
He caught her eye from the platform along the side of the floor, and gestured that he and Rollie were headed for the upper level bar to order drinks. She gave him a thumbs up, before turning back to the rhythmic chaos around her. He and Rollie made their was to one of the two wide staircases that gave access to the second level lounge, and found a table near the edge overlooking the dance floor.
"OK Dirk, I give up, how the hell did you manage a last minute reservation on the guest list?" Asked Rollie, finally.
Dirk smiled, and said, in a patronizing tone of voice: "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
Rollie gave him an old-fashioned look, and rolled his eyes. Turning around to get a better view of the patrons in the lounge, he was able to flag down a server, and promptly ordered several drinks on the basis that, if the club is busy, service will be grudging, and sporadic - so place a big order up front. Dirk took his cue from Rollie, and ordered a couple of drinks for Alex, as well as his own.
Dirk let his eyes roam across the crowd in the lounge, and he became peripherally aware of something he couldn't quite put his finger on. The hard lessons of his youth caused the sudden awareness to sharpen his focus, and he started paying close attention to his surroundings. He got up off his seat, and told Rollie to save their place, then moved away from the table, towards one of the exits for the restrooms. He was almost to the restroom door when his gaze wandered along the bar, and he saw a man staring at him over the rim of a coffee cup.
The cup came down giving dirk a good look at the man's face, and his blood ran cold.
It was Thorne.
Did he know? He thought frantically. And if he did, was it because he was on the job?
The face behind the coffee cup was one he never thought he'd see again in person, or rather, hoped he'd never see in person. He was as professional a contract killer as ever lived, and he seemed to have a very keen interest in Dirk. There were a large number of people, now dead, who, could they talk, would say that if Thorne took an interest in you, it was time to settle affairs. Thorne had once worked for Dirk's father, but they'd had a falling out, and Thorne had left under something of a cloud. It was rumored that he had worked for the Cartel as their top tier enforcer, but had left them to strike out on his own. The fact that the Cartel had let him go was a testament as to just how dangerous Thorne really was.
He decided that the man sitting at the bar was worth the risk of approaching, since they were both exiles of the same sort. He walked through the restroom door, waited for two minutes, then walked out, and headed for the bar where his observer was still seated. He walked up and waited until the bartender had taken his order before speaking.
"You on my case for business?" He asked, simply, without looking directly at the man.
There was no immediate reply, but Dirk could feel the man staring at him.
"Do your friends know who, and what, you are?" He asked, finally breaking his stony silence. "I mean, I can tell at a glance, but they wouldn't be able to, would they? Are you slumming, or did I miss a meeting, or something?"
Dirk considered the risk of trying to kill the man, sitting within arms reach, and just eliminating the threat now. He didn't get to think very hard.
"Don't even think about it, kid. I may have left a long time ago, but I can still kick your ass." He said, giving Dirk pause. "Calm down. For what its worth, I didn't know you were offworld, and I - sure as shit - did not expect to see anyone from your family here."
Dirk was, to his embarrassment, relieved that Thorne wasn't here at his family's request, but he needed to know that he wasn't going to be exposed. He didn't think that his friends knowing who his family was would be a very good idea.
"Look, I just need to know that you aren't planning to Judas me out, OK?" Dirk asked, without pleading.
"I'd be willing to bet that, if I did, you'd have no qualms about letting your people know where to find me; so you can safely assume that your dirty little secret is safe, as far as I'm concerned." Thorne replied.
The implication, that others might be able to identify him, and quietly leak such information to interested parties, hung in the air between them, unsaid, but acutely understood.
Dirk finished his drink, said "Thanks." And walked back to his table, where Alex had finally joined Rollie, and the two of them were engaged in a lively discussion of some sort. He was greeted by Alex with a kiss, that he somehow managed to put up with, and tried to put the old anxieties surrounding his family's reaction to his leaving the fold at rest.
The music changed to something slow, and Alex grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet.
"I promise, DJ, just the slow songs. Come on, Marine." She said, when he resisted being dragged downstairs to dance.
"OK, just the slow songs." He parroted, and followed her.
He was waltzing along, Alex's head tucked against his jaw, when he caught sight of Thorne, looking down at him from the balcony above. He was smiling, and shaking his head slightly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Dirk understood, after all, he knew exactly what his family would think of his relationship with Alex. He had rejected their blind, unthinking bigotry without hesitation, and he was a happier person for it.
The song faded away, becoming something faster, more electrifying, and Alex twisted away from him. She held her arms up, and was swaying her hips to the beat, maintaining eye contact all the while, the invitation plain.
Oh, what the hell, he thought, at least I won't look any more idiotic than the rest of the people out here.
He danced, and after a while, he managed to have fun.
"Like I said before: Have faith, and follow my lead." Dirk replied, with a grin that belonged to a used car salesman, and turned to Alex. "Ready to go?" He asked.
"I was born ready, Marine. Let's do this." Alex said, as she stepped off the curb, and they headed for the door, where a two hundred meter line of people waiting to enter began.
Rollie nearly blew it when the three of them got to where the club's doormen watched the entrance, and he nearly freaked out when the door opened, giving him a good look inside. One of the club's bouncers was an FBR.
Full Body Replacement cyborgs were rare, since very few people could pass the extensive screening process, much less afford the cost of the procedure. Dirk doubted that there were more than a handful of FBRs on Minotaur, certainly no more than a dozen. The resources to maintain - not just the cybernetics, but also mental health - were far more limited outside of Earth's solar system.
FBR Cyborgs were a byproduct of the fracturing of the United States of America into the United Northern States, the Western American Federation, and the New Confederate South. The second war of secession had been a long, drawn out affair, that only ended with the dissolution of the USA into three new, independent nation states. The UNS decided to move forward with cybernetic enhancement of its soldiers as a way of balancing the Confederacy's numerically superior military strength. The WAF followed a few months later, and were the first to field soldiers who had undergone total body prosthesis. Most of the original FBR cyborgs were soldiers who were facing major trauma to limbs and organs, or who were terminally ill, and even a few volunteers. The first series of soldiers fielded didn't quite meet the high expectations of the military commanders, but their successes gave enough proof of concept to warrant continued research and production. It was only after a few months that some of them began showing signs of psychological stress, and from there it was a matter of weeks until the first one had a full blown psychotic episode. That nameless soldier had the great misfortune to be at a public event when he finally lost control, killing over 30 people before an urban antiterrorism unit used an anti armor rifle to stop further bloodshed. There were other incidents over the next few years, as other FBRs also became catatonic, committed suicide, or turned into combat addicts. A few seemed to have no problem adjusting to their new circumstances over the long term, but even among those, there was the odd one who became a truly frightening sociopath, reveling in acts of horrific violence, yet outwardly normal. Needless to say, the newly formed Confederacy's religious leaders had no problem turning out propaganda that painted cybernetically enhanced, and modified soldiers, as 'the footsoldiers of Satan'.
The individual at the entrance to the club was over two meters tall, and had his body done in a mottled earth tone. He had a half dozen optics in the face of his chassis and the 'rabbit ears' that made up a part of his auditory sensors probably housed microcameras that could be used to see around corners without exposing him to things like enemy fire. He was dressed in ATACS camo fatigue pants, with a black T-shirt bearing the logo of a Marine Corp Explosive Ordnance Disposal unit, and the following message: 'I am an EOD specialist. If you see me running, try to keep up!'
It was a joke as old as dynamite, but it still got a laugh from people who'd never seen what high explosives did to the human body.
He was standing at the entryway when Dirk, Alex, and Rollie strolled up, and the cyborg twitched an 'ear' in their direction, and one of his optics turned to give him a visual ID.
"Line's over there, kids." He said, neutrally, tipping his head in the direction of the crowd snaking along the side of the building, and around the block.
Dirk grabbed Rollie, before his fear of FBRs - which were rooted in prejudices that originated on Earth, where he'd never been, ironically - got the better of him, and propelled him towards the door. Having made certain he wasn't going to bolt out of sheer terror, Dirk turned his attention to the doorman.
"You might want to check the list, mister, under the name 'Jester'. Pretty sure that we're on it. I can wait " He said to the cyborg, in a tone of martyred patience that he'd learned from an old Drill Sargent.
The 'borg must have recognized the tone more than the content of the request, because he kept his eyes on the three of them while checking the club's records. He muttered a 'Hunh' as he discovered that, indeed, there was a reservation under that name.
"Says here that the reservation was made today, which is mighty impressive, considering as how it normally takes up to four months. Unless you got an in with the owner that I don't know about?" He said, conversationally, now looking Dirk over with four of his six eyes.
Dirk simply smiled, and shrugged his shoulders without saying a thing.
There was very tense minute where he figured the game was up, and he was getting ready to grab Alex and Rollie, and make a run for it, when the 'borg lifted the old-fashioned red velvet rope across the entryway, and stepped aside to let them through. Dirk was smart enough to see that it would be a good idea to be generous, and palmed a 50 ASC note into the cyborg's hand as he shook it on the way in.
They stared at one another in recognition that they had both saved face, but said nothing further as the inner doors opened, and the lights, music, and background noise of the Known Sphere's hottest nightclub rushed up to greet the trio.
The club was built in an old building that had once been home to some kind of light industry, but had been completely gutted, and turned into a multi level combination of bar lounge, and a dance floor, with a stage at one end for live entertainment. Booths ringed the upper level on three sides, and there was a bar to cater to the clients who preferred to drink in comfort. The lower level had bars to either side on railed platforms along the walls with small, high tables at which patrons could stand, without having to juggle their drinks in a crowd of gyrating revelers.
Alex was already headed for the main floor, and Dirk let her go; she loved to dance, but Dirk was totally out of his depth on a dance floor, so he settled for watching her instead. He had to admit - if only to himself - that watching her swaying and twisting in time to the music resulted in a reflexive desire on his part. She waded into the sea of strangers unselfconsciously, and interacted with them completely without inhibition.
He caught her eye from the platform along the side of the floor, and gestured that he and Rollie were headed for the upper level bar to order drinks. She gave him a thumbs up, before turning back to the rhythmic chaos around her. He and Rollie made their was to one of the two wide staircases that gave access to the second level lounge, and found a table near the edge overlooking the dance floor.
"OK Dirk, I give up, how the hell did you manage a last minute reservation on the guest list?" Asked Rollie, finally.
Dirk smiled, and said, in a patronizing tone of voice: "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."
Rollie gave him an old-fashioned look, and rolled his eyes. Turning around to get a better view of the patrons in the lounge, he was able to flag down a server, and promptly ordered several drinks on the basis that, if the club is busy, service will be grudging, and sporadic - so place a big order up front. Dirk took his cue from Rollie, and ordered a couple of drinks for Alex, as well as his own.
Dirk let his eyes roam across the crowd in the lounge, and he became peripherally aware of something he couldn't quite put his finger on. The hard lessons of his youth caused the sudden awareness to sharpen his focus, and he started paying close attention to his surroundings. He got up off his seat, and told Rollie to save their place, then moved away from the table, towards one of the exits for the restrooms. He was almost to the restroom door when his gaze wandered along the bar, and he saw a man staring at him over the rim of a coffee cup.
The cup came down giving dirk a good look at the man's face, and his blood ran cold.
It was Thorne.
Did he know? He thought frantically. And if he did, was it because he was on the job?
The face behind the coffee cup was one he never thought he'd see again in person, or rather, hoped he'd never see in person. He was as professional a contract killer as ever lived, and he seemed to have a very keen interest in Dirk. There were a large number of people, now dead, who, could they talk, would say that if Thorne took an interest in you, it was time to settle affairs. Thorne had once worked for Dirk's father, but they'd had a falling out, and Thorne had left under something of a cloud. It was rumored that he had worked for the Cartel as their top tier enforcer, but had left them to strike out on his own. The fact that the Cartel had let him go was a testament as to just how dangerous Thorne really was.
He decided that the man sitting at the bar was worth the risk of approaching, since they were both exiles of the same sort. He walked through the restroom door, waited for two minutes, then walked out, and headed for the bar where his observer was still seated. He walked up and waited until the bartender had taken his order before speaking.
"You on my case for business?" He asked, simply, without looking directly at the man.
There was no immediate reply, but Dirk could feel the man staring at him.
"Do your friends know who, and what, you are?" He asked, finally breaking his stony silence. "I mean, I can tell at a glance, but they wouldn't be able to, would they? Are you slumming, or did I miss a meeting, or something?"
Dirk considered the risk of trying to kill the man, sitting within arms reach, and just eliminating the threat now. He didn't get to think very hard.
"Don't even think about it, kid. I may have left a long time ago, but I can still kick your ass." He said, giving Dirk pause. "Calm down. For what its worth, I didn't know you were offworld, and I - sure as shit - did not expect to see anyone from your family here."
Dirk was, to his embarrassment, relieved that Thorne wasn't here at his family's request, but he needed to know that he wasn't going to be exposed. He didn't think that his friends knowing who his family was would be a very good idea.
"Look, I just need to know that you aren't planning to Judas me out, OK?" Dirk asked, without pleading.
"I'd be willing to bet that, if I did, you'd have no qualms about letting your people know where to find me; so you can safely assume that your dirty little secret is safe, as far as I'm concerned." Thorne replied.
The implication, that others might be able to identify him, and quietly leak such information to interested parties, hung in the air between them, unsaid, but acutely understood.
Dirk finished his drink, said "Thanks." And walked back to his table, where Alex had finally joined Rollie, and the two of them were engaged in a lively discussion of some sort. He was greeted by Alex with a kiss, that he somehow managed to put up with, and tried to put the old anxieties surrounding his family's reaction to his leaving the fold at rest.
The music changed to something slow, and Alex grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet.
"I promise, DJ, just the slow songs. Come on, Marine." She said, when he resisted being dragged downstairs to dance.
"OK, just the slow songs." He parroted, and followed her.
He was waltzing along, Alex's head tucked against his jaw, when he caught sight of Thorne, looking down at him from the balcony above. He was smiling, and shaking his head slightly, as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Dirk understood, after all, he knew exactly what his family would think of his relationship with Alex. He had rejected their blind, unthinking bigotry without hesitation, and he was a happier person for it.
The song faded away, becoming something faster, more electrifying, and Alex twisted away from him. She held her arms up, and was swaying her hips to the beat, maintaining eye contact all the while, the invitation plain.
Oh, what the hell, he thought, at least I won't look any more idiotic than the rest of the people out here.
He danced, and after a while, he managed to have fun.
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