The Nature of Predators - Gress’ Cases (5/8)

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Memory Transcription Subject: Gress, Krev Hostage Negotiator

Date [standardized human time]: August 13, 2156

Lecca was supposed to be asleep at this hour, but she’d snuck out without us realizing it. Nevi and I were watching a shocking program about the humans, the Federation race who had burrowed into our neighboring world; we didn’t want our little one to see the terrifying implications of an all-out war, or their binocular-eye-hating ideology.  When my daughter hopped on the couch next to me, glued to the images on the screen, I knew she’d seen enough. Juvre was also awake, baring his teeth at the television. An obor didn’t like the secretive menaces from a virtual image, which suggested there was something off about them.

Satellite images of the Tellus land-thieves showed them working under the baking sun, in full garb—fabric wrapped around obscuring masks. The outfits made them look mean and untrustworthy, unwilling to afford a glimpse of their form. Their commitment to secrecy might as well have been a spray in the face. The fact they wouldn’t let us see their settlement left all sorts of rumors that they were creating an army on our doorstep—or maybe planning to fight a guerrilla war like the Jaslips. I studied their strange forms: lanky and straight, with loose and pointed gloves over their digits. Why wouldn’t they reveal anything about themselves, when they were an unwelcome guest on our land? What was their end goal?

“The temporary invasion has almost reached the two decade mark, a milestone that no Krev is celebrating. The humans show no signs of moving on, as they scuttle around underground. Their decided lack of openness shows their characteristic disinterest in any friendship with the Consortium, hurrying Rent Collector Clevi back to her ship with no fanfare,” the narrator read. “Reports suggest Clevi has had her fill of the shifty colonists, and has offered her resignation twice—but there’s few takers for her position. Since they flaunt gunships as the only thing in open air, perhaps it’s time for a Resket rent collector, says Ring District 5 representative Ficcin.”

I can’t imagine a more unpleasant job than dealing with those human frauds. They disgust me! Since nobody wants these burrowing, illegitimate charlatans here, maybe it would be good to send someone like Rameki to drive them off. Good riddance.

“Daddy? Are those…humans going to hurt us?” Lecca whimpered.

I heaved a sigh, muting the feed. “Of course not. We’re watching them very closely, so they won’t come anywhere near us. They’ve just outstayed their welcome.”

“Why? Why don’t they go home?”

“Some aliens…want to take more and more from others, or remove certain parts of nature.”

“With forward-facing eyes. I heard what they were saying earlier.” Lecca waggled a claw in my obor’s direction. “Juvre has those. They would ‘remove’ him?”

“If they got here, yes. These humans would think primates are disgusting and evil. Thankfully, they’re entire systems away, and we’d shoot them down before they got any ideas to come after Juvre.”

My daughter hugged the obor. “Then I hate these humans! Nobody should want to hurt Juvre.”

“Of course, he’s a cute obor, but they see him as the face of evil.” Hurt? More like burn Juvre alive—a pleasant way to die. “What you said about the humans…hate isn’t a nice word. I have bad feelings about them too, dear, but we shouldn’t let them occupy our minds. They’re not worth the energy. They’re not worth caring about at all.”

“But I want to know why they hide in a fake shell. I think they don’t show their faces because they’re ugly!”

I chuckled. “Probably. Nasty inside and out, it fits. I won’t shed any tears when we drive them out; I wish there was a way I could make it happen faster.”

“You can. Bring the police and throw them in the jail-pits. They want to be underground, right?”

Who told her about jail-pits?

“Gress, stop humoring her,” Nevi interjected; she hadn’t said anything to help the situation, or dull Lecca’s curiosity in a kid-friendly way. “Go to sleep, right now! Naughty children get punished by having humans take their obors away.”

Tears formed in Lecca’s eyes. “I don’t want Juvre to be gone.”

“Then go to bed, or your bad energy will attract wicked creatures. Run, hurry!”

My daughter wailed in despair, almost tripping over her feet to get back to her room. I muted the television with my augmented reality lens, and cast a cold stare at Nevi. The last thing I wanted was to frighten Lecca about the humans, and have her think they were an imminent threat to our family. Of course, this wouldn’t have ever happened if we hadn’t let them land, and mar our television screens, in the first place. Since they were here, however, it was in poor taste to use them against a child—and possibly traumatizing them. What if Lecca had nightmares about the masked bipeds stealing Juvre?

“Why did you tell her that?” I hissed at Nevi.

My wife waved her claws dismissively. “You’re too easy on Lecca. She isn’t the least bit afraid of you, so you have nothing to threaten her with. Someone has to get her obedience.”

“I don’t want her to be scared! That isn’t how you get her respect.”

“Gress, our daughter is out of control. You just give her whatever she wants, and try to reason with her like she’s one of your cases.”

“That is not true! I try to respond to her…not like an adult, but without talking down to her or dismissing her. Lecca is three, so it’s not like—”

“She has zero responsibility and walks all over you! What are you teaching her?”

“That her dad loves her and will do anything for her.  What did you say? Someone has to.”

Nevi’s eyes turned cold as ice, and she scooted away from me on the couch. A deep-seated resentment bubbled in my throat as well; my gaze bored into her skull, challenging her to respond to my comment. My wife turned her tail toward me, much as Lecca had, and I returned the gesture with contempt brimming from my face. Just as the full-blown argument was about to get into full swing, my holopad buzzed. I groaned at the prospect of receiving a case at this hour, but I stood to head out the door in an instant. My spouse rose behind me, tailing me to the front entrance.

“Oh yeah. You’ll do anything for Lecca—except choose her over work.” Nevi slammed the door in my face, staring through the glass. “Go on. Run off to the job that shows you don’t care about being around for your kid—in more ways than one. I can’t wait to take our daughter to her dad’s funeral.”

I swiveled around, pounding a paw against the frame. “How dare you?”

There was a click, as she turned the lock and walked away. My blood was still boiling while I booked it to the emergency pod, though I tried to clear my head. Whoever was in danger couldn’t afford for me to be off my game. It had been quiet this past week, so I had been able to stay at home and spend time with Lecca. It seemed that the present case was more mundane work, with a Trombil named Vael holding himself at a gunpoint; my job was to talk him off the ledge. I was well-trained to handle that sort of ideation, though I couldn’t find any clues to why he’d want to self-terminate. He had a successful career in Tonvos as a cybernetic designer, and retained close connections with his family.

No prior history of mental health issues. Not that depression can’t affect anyone at any time, but it’s rare that there’s no red flags. No deviations from standard social media posting, according to our AI, and no irregular behavior tips submitted by coworkers.

According to his papers, Vael didn’t own a gun, and facial recognition software hadn’t matched him to a theft at any gun stores on Avor. It was a bit perplexing how exactly he had obtained a weapon, and what had driven him to press it to his skull. The photo of him made me do a double take, due to the large number of cyber mods. Clearly an enthusiast of his work, Vael had replaced his legs with retractable wheel stands, and his arms with claw machines, like one might see at a starship junkyard. He’d also replaced both eyes with artificial ones, and had his jaw ripped out to be replaced with a “better” cybernetic one.

“Vael looks more metal than machine. These aren’t even the first iterations of his mods, according to his payment history,” I mused aloud. “I can’t imagine intentionally replacing my own body parts, trading them in like this. Why spend all that money upgrading your body if you intend to commit suicide?”

It was possible that the Trombil simply wasn’t happy with his natural form, but it was more likely he was deep-rooted into the transtrombilist movement—which idolized the idea of superseding organic limits that nature had set for them. Talking to him would probably be the most insightful, since nobody had approached to gauge his motivations. Vael was still at his office, sitting by the window overlooking the moving sidewalks outdoors. A concerned citizen phoned in the tip, and I was the qualified officer set to initiate contact.

It hurt my heart to witness people unhappy enough with their lives to take matters into their own paws, but at least this was a more straightforward affair. It wouldn’t require running around between multiple parties, like the complications of the previous two cases. The pod coasted to a halt just shy of the Trombil’s workplace, where I could catch a distant peek of the person in question. Vael had a pistol trained at his own temple. It was difficult to read a fully metal face, but his spinal posture seemed rigid—with fear or tension. The level was beyond what I’d expect from simple nervousness or conflictedness about going through with his plan.

“His mouth seems to be moving, as if he’s talking to someone. Dramatic open-and-shut motions. The pattern he’s moving in…it also seems to be a code. Trinary computer code? Yeah, I can’t fucking read that.” I tapped into the nearest surveillance camera to get a better shot, filming a clip to send to my Listener friend Shenala. “Hey, Shenala. I think he’s trying to communicate with passersby in trinary. Can you translate?”

The line was silent for a minute, as she reviewed the clip in meticulous detail. “It sure looks like that to me. The letters spell…‘help me. He’s making me do it.’”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Maybe it’s some mental break, or split personality, where he feels forced to do it by another person. There’s no family history though.”

“No. Vael has a second cousin who takes medication for anxiety, according to the pharmaceutical database. I’d hardly call that a connection. Unless he took some kind of recreational drug which caused him to lose his grip, despite no prior history, it doesn’t make much sense.”

“We have to figure out who is making him feel like he has to do this then. Can you tap into his messaging records, see if there’s anything suspicious or off? Also, run a facial recognition check to see if anyone he cares about is hurt or in danger.”

“On it. What’s your plan? Talk to him, put out a feeler to see why he’s taking such drastic measures?”

My eyes narrowed. “There’s just so much that’s not adding up. The gun that he shouldn’t have, talking in code instead of, you know, calling the police or a hotline…doing this in such a public place. It’s rare to see someone take their life, in bloody fashion, and in such a public place that has this much foot traffic, and is directly connected to them. Come to think of it, check coworkers and business records too. See if there’s any loans or ongoing prosecution against the cybernetics shop.”

“Adding that to my list of queries. No hits on the first two, but I’ll keep adjusting the search parameters. I’m nothing if not thorough, and adept at finding what people don’t want me to find.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything else from the most skilled Trombil in the Listeners. I’m lucky you’re on my side, Shenala. Thanks for the assist.”

“Don’t mention it. You just let me do my job, and don’t stick your tongue where it doesn’t belong. I’ve always appreciated that.”

“I figure if you want to share something, you will. Standing offer to go out and get drinks as a proper thanks, but there’s no pressure.”

Shenala chuckled. “I’d take you up on that, but it’s better that you don’t know what I look like—personal info about me; the like. I’d be more likely to join one of your web-hosted Crawlers and Firefossils campaigns.”

“You know I run C&F sessions?”

“You think I wouldn’t? I do my research. You’re good at improv, so it’s a natural hobby to have. I bet you’re a Chronicler that makes the Seer class worthwhile.”

“I do have fun with someone who’ll really roleplay a Seer…but I’ll get back to you on that later, Shenala. Any hits on the searches?”

The Trombil grunted in thought. “None at all, not even possibles. Strange. No paper trail of any enemies of Vael so far, but I can keep looking for anyone—disgruntled client or otherwise—that might have a bone to pick with him.”

“Appreciate the effort. Looks like I’ll have to go in blind; not my preferred strategy with someone pushed this far, but I’m not going to leave him there. At least I know now that he’s asking for help, which means he might be receptive to my intervention.”

“In case he’s not, I’ll try to backdoor into his cybernetic arms. All I have to do is trip the power surge function, nothing more complicated. It’ll take hours at a minimum, but it’s a guaranteed way to make him lay down his weapons.”

“Should I be surprised you can do that?”

“If you underestimate me. Like you said, Gress, you’re lucky I’m on your side. I’ll keep you posted.”

The Trombil disconnected from the call, and I planned out my approach to Vael’s office. I didn’t want to spook him, if there was some reason he was being discreet in communication. Something about what Shenala said stuck with me, causing me to pause for a moment. The Listeners could physically hack into mechanical arms, forcing him to lower the gun. What if someone had overrode Vael’s control, and forced him to raise it to his skull in the first place? Was that a crazy thought? Even if the premise wasn’t bizarre, Shenala’s searches said he had no enemies.

It’s a possibility for him to be a hostage in his own body, and that’s disgruntling enough. I have to at least rule it out; we’d need a bigger police response if we’re scouring for some super-hacker, with Listener-like powers. Hmph—it’s insane, but maybe I should call Shenala back for peace of mind.

As I raised my holopad to redial the Trombil, an incoming call from her flashed on my screen: emergency dial tone, suggesting urgency. Suspicions increasing to an all-time high, I made the gesture to accept. Perhaps she’d just gotten a hit on her searches, but it was unlikely she used that alarm-inducing signal unless it was something that could put me or another person in danger. 

“Don’t approach the building!” Shenala ordered, concern evident in her voice. “I got booted out trying to tap into his arms. Someone’s already—”

“Beat you to the shell glow,” I finished. 

“Yes. How did you know?”

“It doesn’t matter. What do we even do for something like this? I don’t know the playbook—I’m not part of the cybercrimes unit.”

“Just don’t approach the building. This attacker might be waiting for that, to make it not just look like a suicide—to make it look like a murder. This seems personal, but the fact that I don’t see any enemies...we have to shift our focus.”

“It’s definitely not safe for me to approach alone. Can you call in Rameki? For all we know, it’s not even about Vael…it’s bait for someone with a vendetta against the police to gun down first responders. Maybe someone like me failed to talk down someone close to the attacker when they stood on the ledge. Maybe they’re making a point of Trombil being a security threat. We have to check all angles.”

“I’ll call in that Resket-led tactical unit, though you have to worry about her escalating the situation. Neutralizing Vael, even though he’s the victim.”

I shifted on my feet. “I can handle Rameki; she’s easy to manipulate, and she might know how to help. Our first priority is to disable Vael’s arms, and remove the gun…hopefully, remove the prosthetics altogether. EMP weapons would be just the thing to do it. Most Reskets would be sprinting toward the opportunity to prove how vulnerable cybernetics are to that kind of thing.”

“Good idea. Rameki has been notified, and I’ll widen the net in search of suspects on all of our theories. In the meantime, I’ll also call in some of Vael’s colleagues to be ready to perform the removal. They do it all the time; it’s better than giving you a diagram, and hoping you disconnect it from his nervous system correctly.”

“Sounds like a plan. We save Vael, then we find who did this. Let’s just hope we can do that before our hacker gets bored of waiting.”

I stared at the window across the street, knowing I couldn’t make a move without a tactical unit. Whatever Nevi had said, it wasn’t my intention for my daughter to witness her father’s funeral; I wouldn’t do something so reckless as to increase my odds of getting killed. What seemed like a simple case had ballooned into the strangest I’d ever reckoned with, so I needed to stay sharp. Vael’s life depended on me finding a solution, and outwitting whoever was after him. I didn’t have much to go on right now, in terms of facts or experience. 

If his attacker had given him a gun, that might be our only lead—but we couldn’t get a closer look with that pressed against his reptilian skull. It was going to take a lot of patience and detective work to break this case wide open.

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A/N - Part 5! After getting into a massive fight with his wife over Lecca, and the differences in how they explained the Tellus humans to her (opinions were not high of those masked bipeds), Gress is called in for what he believes will be talking a Trombil off the proverbial ledge. However, the Listeners find out Vael, a cybernetics designer with many body mods, has become a target for a hacker only staging a suicide. Who would target such an individual; is this a major weakness for the heavily cyborglike Trombil? Will Gress be able to save Vael? How concerning are the Listeners as a Department?

As always, thank you for reading and supporting!