Author's Note: This story begins just prior to the destruction of Fagin's Luxury Liner, the Galore, and his hideout on Odysseus.
The motor whined in protest as it forced the wheelchair forward through the rough-hewn, rocky corridor. Dr. Eduard Van Nostrom was in a hurry to get to his lab, and had the chair's throttle locked forward. The guards had just brought him the news, and he was anxious to begin his work again.
He reached the hollowed-out chamber Fagin's people had given him for a lab, and the door slid open with a whoosh. The equipment was nearly as good as the stuff in the Consortium labs on Ganymede, where he had done so much of his early work. That was before, of course, one of his former lab assistants leaked top-secret information to the press…information about the mind-control experiments he had been at work on for the Vanguard Intelligence people. The resulting public outcry forced his former benefactor, Dimitri Volstov, the man who had supported and nurtured his experiments for so long, to cut his funding and terminate his employment in the Vanguard's Research and Development division. It took him years to find a client with the resources to allow him to resume his experiments, but Lord Fagin had been the answer to his prayers. And now, at last, he was on the verge of a breakthrough…and Fagin had brought him a new test subject.
Van Nostrom rolled into the lab. Two Elite Guards stood to either side of the examination table, where the new test subject lay. He understood that Grim, Fagin's icy majordomo, had specially arranged for this test subject to be made available to him. If the procedure was successful, Grim had something special in mind for this fellow's first assignment.
Van Nostrom picked up the data pad with the subject's medical and biographical information. He glanced up as two of his medical technicians began running checks on the patient, hooking him up to monitoring equipment and attaching a glucose feed to the IV line already in his arm.
"Mmm. Yes. Ze zuubject is zztill in ze comatoze condition," Van Nostrom said, his accent betraying his German origins on Earth. "It veell be our first order of biznezz to zee if ve can r-r-repair ze zynaptic damage, unt restore ze cognitive fuunctions of ze brain to full oper-r-rational capazity." He glanced at one of the guards. "Go and tell Herr Greem zat I veel inform heem of our p-rr-ogress veeth Herr Falkenberg."
The guard nodded, and headed for the exit of the lab, and Van Nostrom began reviewing his patient's medical report. John Christian Falkenberg, erstwhile master of Fagin's Smuggler's Guild, lay on his examination table deep in a coma caused by a small-caliber slug which had penetrated his skull and entered the anterior lobe of his brain. Preliminary brain scans, however, showed that the cerebral damage was in fact reversible, given the right skill and the right technology.
Fortunately, Dr. Eduard Van Nostrom had both. It had taken him years to develop the CN-6, the current generation of his special cyberneural implant. He could repair Falkenberg's damaged neural pathways, and integrate them with a CN-6 implant which could feed instructions directly to his brain and make him the perfect, loyal soldier. Apparently, Falkenberg was in his current state because of some sort of lapse in loyalty-the details of the case did not really interest Van Nostrom-but if the procedure was successful, that would never be a problem again.
Van Nostrom looked at one of the medical techs. "I Vant a full b-rr-ain scan, unt have zomeone prep the O.R. Ve veel operate zis evenink."
Van Nostrom rolled his wheelchair into the special observation room in the recovery ward. The surgery had been a success, and on the other side of a glass wall, Falkenberg lay in a bed, surrounded by monitoring equipment, his head heavily bandaged. It had been four days since the procedure, and by now the CN-6 implant was integrated enough to begin tests. Van Nostrom pressed a button on the control panel in front of him, and a special medical scanner swung into place over the bed and began playing a narrow beam of white light over the patient's head. On a screen in front of him, Van Nostrom viewed a complete scan of the subject's brain.
The nearby comm channel chirped, and Van Nostrom sighed. Would they never let him work in peace? Did they not recognize his genius? He had repaired a man's brain, and had brought him out of a coma! Soon he would begin uploading instructions and operational data, and bring the subject out of sedation…but only when he was ready. He sighed again, and hit the comm stud.
"Greetings, Doctor," came an icy voice from the speaker. "I trust I am not…disturbing you?"
"Actually, yez, you are, Herr Greem. If you are calling to zee again ven Herr Falkenberg's re-education veel begin, I veel zay again zat you must be more patient. Ze CN-6 implant has been integrated eento hees zerebral cortex, and ve can begin instructions zoon." Van Nostrom was not about to be intimidated by Fagin's majordomo. He was the only person capable of developing this technology, and it would be terribly useful to Lord Fagin when it was complete.
Grim, apparently, was not amused by the doctor's boldness. "Doctor, I will remind you that we have supplied you with seven previous test subjects, all of whom died. It is time we saw results from this little project of yours. I have high hopes for Mr. Falkenberg, and for your sake, I hope you are successful this time."
"Do not vorry yourzelf, Herr Greem. Ze chip veel vork. Ve veel upload your zpecial orders to hees brain, and he veel obey vithout qvestion," Van Nostrom replied. "It zeemply takes time. Unt he veel require zome physical recuper-rr-ation before he can begin hees mission."
The voice on the comm remained icy cold. "Very well, doctor. The Galore is leaving Odysseus this afternoon, and I will be aboard. When I return, I shall expect my new and improved Guildmaster to be well on his way to that recuperation. He must be ready for his journey to the Cottington Shipyards near Ganymede in time for him to sneak aboard the colony vessel, which is nearing completion. I will check on your progress upon my return. Do not disappoint me." The comm clicked, and went silent.
The colony ship, Van Nostrom thought. Yes, Falkenberg's mission instructions included a complete technical readout of the massive ship. Just where Lord Fagin got those plans was anyone's guess, but Van Nostrom assumed the Pirate King's interest in the ship was not limited to attempts to sneak aboard one programmed assassin. Still, he had work to attend to before Grim returned. It was time to bring the implant online.
"Vell, Herr Falkenberg," he muttered, "it eez time ve show ze galaxy juzt how brilliant I am."
- * *
"Doctor, the power output on the CN-6 is still outside the nominal range," one of the technicians reported. Van Nostrom sighed audibly as he watched Falkenberg running on a treadmill, his body covered in sensors. The implant had rendered him docile, for the most part, but it was experiencing occasional power fluctuations. At first they had appeared to be a minor problem that did not affect the operation of the device, but it had reached the point where the power levels would drop so low that Van Nostrom risked losing control of Falkenberg altogether. Once already Falkenberg had taken a swing at one of the technicians and tried to remove his restraints before they had been able to reassert control through the implant. And when the power output spiked to the high end of the spectrum, nearly all conscious thought ceased, leaving Falkenberg as little more than an automaton, blindly carrying out his last instruction.
"I do not underztand ze problem," Van Nostrom said aloud. "Ze chip's diagnostic program zhows ze power source ees fully operational, unt yet ze chip ees fluctuating betveen a hyper-active and nearly inactive ztate." He shook his head. "You may stop running, Herr Falkenberg. Report to lab three, ve veel attempt to re-initialize ze chip."
Falkenberg immediately ceased running. "Yes, Dr. Van Nostrom," he replied. His face was blank and expressionless as the technicians removed the sensor patches from his chest and arms. He turned and exited for lab three, the main cybernetics lab, flanked by a technician and two guards. Lord Fagin still was unconvinced of the loyalty of his former Guildmaster, apparently, even with the implant. Considering the current malfunctions, that was probably not a bad thing.
Van Nostrom sighed. He had yet to upload the full mission orders to Falkenberg's brain, as he was not sure what effect they would have on him while the chip was so unstable. He was fortunate that Grim had had that little accident on the Galore, or the project may have been terminated-and Van Nostrom with it-because of the delay. Fortunately, Fagin's new majordomo was his old benefactor, Volstov, who had been quite pleased that the good doctor's experiments had progressed so far since his days working for the Vanguard. He would be given some time.
Not much, though, because Sanctuary was nearing completion, and by all reports the Kretonian invasion was on its way. Van Nostrom idly considered these problems as his wheelchair rolled down the dark corridor to his cyberlab, but in truth there was little that concerned him beyond his work. Still, part of that work now involved getting John Christian Falkenberg ready for his insertion on the giant colony ship so he could carry out his orders.
As he entered the lab, he saw Falkenberg lying on the examination table already.
"Begin ze brainscan," Van Nostrom ordered. "Ve veel zee how ze chip is affecting ze brain, and zen ve veel begin ze re-initializing prozedure."
Again, the scanners swung into place over the examination table, and an intense beam of white light played over the subject. He eyed the power output data for the CN-6 implant, and noticed a spike during the scan. His eyes widened somewhat. This would not do at all.
The chip was behaving erratically, and was having an adverse affect on the patient's brain. Many of the higher functions, including memory, were interfered with when the power level fluctuated. This might explain why he had yet to observe anything like normal behavior from Falkenberg-at least, as normal as could be expected from a man who was being fed a constant stream of data and instructions from a microchip in his brain. No, Falkenberg was always either extremely docile or extremely agitated. The first condition, apparently, was the result of higher-than-optimal power output from the chip, which subdued his higher brain functions. The second, agitated condition resulted from a power falloff, during which the subject became more acutely aware of where he was and what was being done to him, and began to resist. The potential existed for him to become violent and uncontrollable…or for him to be unable to function normally and draw upon his memories and knowledge in the process of carrying out his mission. This was essential to his success.
Van Nostrom shook his head, and keyed in the re-initialization command for the CN-6 implant. Hopefully, the restart procedure would eliminate the malfunction, as there simply was not time to perform surgery to remove the chip and repair it. For one thing, that might just kill Falkenberg, and for another, the mission window was closing. If he didn't get results soon, Volstov would cease his indulgence.
The chip went through its restart sequence, and Van Nostrom ran another brain scan. The chip appeared to still be generating some minor interference, but the power output seemed more stable, at least for the moment. Oh well, he thought. Perhaps we shall see how well it works when we upload the full mission instructions.
- * *
Falkenberg stood in front of Van Nostrom, wearing a plain gray jumpsuit. That blank look remained on his face, and his voice was flat as he responded to questions.
"Herr Falkenberg, do you underztand your inztructions?" Van Nostrom asked.
"Yes, Doctor."
"And vhat ees your main objective?"
"To seek and destroy my primary targets, doctor. Upon completion of that objective, I may proceed to seek and destroy my secondary targets."
"Unt vhat if zomeone interferes vith your primary objectives?"
"Interference cannot be tolerated. Any means necessary may be used to remove or avoid the source of such interference provided it does not compromise the primary mission."
"Good. Unt if ze primary mission ees a failure?"
Falkenberg's voice remained flat and toneless. "I am to proceed to secondary objective. If that proves impossible, I am to terminate the operation, make contact and await further instructions."
"Good. Zey tell me zhere is a zhuttle vaiting for you on ze landing pad. You have ze technical data on your destination?" Van Nostrom was clearly pleased with the degree to which Falkenberg had assimilated the mission instructions.
"Yes, doctor," Falkenberg responded. "I can gain entry to the colony ship through cargo loading tube 17. This will grant me entry to an area near the water reclamation system, far from the proposed settlements. I will establish a base of operations and begin to recon the ship as a preliminary to the primary mission objective."
"Excellent!" Van Nostrom turned to a nearby Guard. "Go tell Herr Volstov hees azzazzin ees ready to commence hees journey." The guard nodded curtly, and headed off to report the information. "Herr Falkenberg, you may rreport to ze landing bay."
Falkenberg turned with military precision, and headed down the corridor to the landing bay. From there, he would be placed aboard a shuttle that would fly him to sol system, and sometime within the next week or so he would attempt his insertion to the colony ship, which had already begun loading cargo and passengers.
"Doctor Van Nostrom," one of his assistants said, handing him a data pad, "our latest readings show the chip's power output is still unstable. There is no telling what may happen to him under the real stress of a mission."
Van Nostrom frowned. Oh, he knew what would happen, all right. If the chip malfunctioned badly enough, Falkenberg would quite probably go mad. The implant would compel him to obey his orders, but inconsistently. He would experience pain, and his higher brain functions would be interfered with. Ah well. Something to correct in the CN-7.
The sound of a shuttle taking off echoed through the caverns as Van Nostrom rolled back to his lab in his wheelchair. Perhaps Falkenberg would succeed in the mission, and report in once Fagin's operation had relocated to the secret fortress on Sanctuary. By then he might have a solution to the problem. Volstov had promised Van Nostrom he would be brought along, but the evacuation would not be for at least another week…he had heard two of the guards commenting that Volstov planned to use the Kretonian assault on Ungstir, expected any day now, to cover their movements.
As he was musing on this, a sudden, enormous tremor rocked the underground lab. Van Nostrom grunted as his chair was tossed against the wall of the corridor as the local gravity field fluctuated dramatically. A klaxon horn sounded in the distance, and the entire planetoid began to tremble. Suddenly a voice cried out over the P.A. system.
"All personnel to the evacuation center! Orbit critically destabilized! Approaching event horizon!"
Van Nostrom dropped all other musings, threw forward the throttle on his wheelchair, and headed as fast as it could carry him to the upper level of the palace. The evacuation center was not far, perhaps he could make it in time.