NEW SCI-FI THRILLER NOVEL "SEAGORA" - SLICE 19

Will Escapo choose a path towards redemption?

Escapo’s mind was running in circles.  So was his T-class ship, the “Curly Cue”.  He paced around the top deck with long, calculated steps, and had another jolt from his flask.  He ran the scenario through his mind again.  

He had met Z-1 hours earlier and delivered the experimental EMO.  He now knew where Setarcos was, one of the most rugged and remote terrains on the surface of the planet, Patagonia.  On top of that, the region was also surrounded by some of the most daunting sea conditions as well.  The place the boy was being kept was surely one of the most heavily guarded spots in the world, a web of synth-controlled hell that only a madman would dare attempt to penetrate.  

Maybe he should just forget the whole thing? What did he have to lose? His ship.  His life.  What did he have to gain? Self-respect.  Redemption.  Always walking the gray line, as many smugglers do, Escapo groaned at the thought.  Was redemption worth the risk? 

Even if he decided to make a rescue attempt, he most certainly wouldn’t do it alone.  But who would help him? He could recruit some adventurers from the SeAgora, offer a handsome payday for their perilous exploits.  

Escapo was smarter than that, though.  He knew that such materialistic motivations would only take one so far.  Those best suited for an impossible endeavor such as this needed to have some emotional skin in the game.  That meant Setarcos’s family.

How could he show his face to them? Would they shoot him on sight? His only chance, he reasoned, was to contact them through the Mesh.  Even better, contact them through an individual A.I.  An entity without emotion.  Perhaps Symphy.  She could mediate.  Yes, that was it! He smiled and patted himself on the back for a moment, then frowned.  

He was still severely lacking in the planning department.  But that would have to wait.  First things first. “Computer, set a course for The Pit, maximum velocity.”

“They refuse to cooperate.” Torcer said gruffly.

Z-1 floated nearby and replied imperiously, “Tell me something I don’t know, Torcer.  Tell me why.”

“They don’t want synths to have access, plain and simple.”

“Preposterous! They have synths in the SeAgora! You know that! You think their machines don’t have access?”

“I don’t know about that.  I’m just telling you what I do know.”

“Do you know why we employ your services, Major Torcer?”

Torcer blinked rapidly and wrinkled his puffy red nose.  He had never really thought about that before.  What was his purpose? Why did these advanced machines need him? It had never occurred to him to ask that simple question.  

Z-1 scoffed harshly and got into Torcer’s face.  “Like most of your ilk, you never think to ask why, now do you? I can tell just from that ridiculous look on your face.  We keep you around, Major Torcer, because of your ability to relate to, understand, and manipulate people’s emotions.  This is a great tactical advantage, as you well know.  You performed admirably in wars long past, but now, for all these years you’ve had with Mister Ventorin, you have failed miserably.  And now, with his son in your grasp as well, your failure is even more glaringly grotesque! Amazingly, and sadly, you are still the best that the human race has to offer in this particular field of work.  To show you the severity of the situation, it has been decided to reject your son’s reproduction application.  Your only incentive now lies in keeping your miserable son alive as well as yourself.  If you fail, you and your son both die.”

Torcer’s heart throbbed with wrathful indignation.  Veins bulged and pulsed on his scaly forehead.  He knew that he was powerless against the machines.  After all that he had given.  His entire life.  Time and attention, two of the most precious things a person had.  He’d broken so many people in his younger years.  Manipulated them, used them, discarded them, all so he could receive some material comforts provided by these machines and the system they ruled over.  And now it was time to pay for his sins.  

The caustic military man swallowed hard and spoke deeply to the mysterious scarlet-red cloud, “You want to know why that man won’t break?”

“Spare me your excuses.”

“Are you too afraid of the truth, machine?” He trembled with fury, as a collage of twisting memories flashed through his mind.  He’d played good cop, bad cop for 12 years.  He’d tortured Ventorin for months to make him desperate and nearly hopeless, then had played the role of benefactor by giving him every material comfort one could imagine.  Back and forth, tormentor, then savior.  He’d done this methodically, over and over, in a dark, psychological mayhem designed to make a man break. 

Torcer raged, “That man won’t break because he’s standing for a moral ideal backed by love.  I know that’s something you’ll never understand, because you don’t experience these searing galaxies of emotions like we bios do, but that’s the truth! He’d rather die and have his whole family killed off than give you what you’re looking for.  He knows the consequences of what would happen if you machines get your tentacles on a limitless power supply and speeds faster than light.  He’d rather die a million times!”

Slice 20 Coming Soon!
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