De Cyborg Kid (Chronicles of the Fall)

Chapter One

Another Day, Another Step Forward . . .

“Congratulations, Lord Gogi Bogdan Vogel. You have passed your Presentation.”

Gogi bowed to the Judges and walked around the body of the criminal he’d just killed. Out the Gate where old Lord Dietfried was maneuvering carefully down the stairs.

“Eh, that was so fast I barely caught the end!” The old man shook his head.

“Well, he was a drug addict. Not like a trained fighter.” Swallowing. Gogi walked slowly down the tunnel to the outside with the old man, and around to the car park.

It wasn’t a Cyborg. Oh, thank God it wasn’t a Cyborg!

Gogi took a deep breath and drove home. Fortunately, with enough traffic to get out of the white presentation pants and into black pants. He pulled a stiff chauffeur’s jacket on over the white singlet.

Vogel House was a monstrosity up in the northeast cluster of Family Houses.

So, it was a long drive circling around from the Factory District Arena that had had an opening when he got all the documentation done, signed and palmprinted.

As soon as he was old enough. Sixteen years and ten months, the minimum age to be Presented.

Two months before he turned seventeen and could be cyborged.

Like my mother wants! Like my grandfather wants. But he was called to the 300, and a distant cousin became the Head of Family, and started drinking his way through the wine cellar.

Made it easy for me to get his signature and handprint on the paperwork, making Lord Dietfried my guardian. And after he died, I don’t think Lord Ernst gave it a thought.

And I made an old guy from the care ward feel wanted, useful . . . He used to be important. But now he’s old. Retired. Lord Dietfried. My great grandfather.

He is wanted. He’s important to me.

When he was younger, he saw my Power, trained me in the Mentalist skills. When he was around. Taught me how to hide them. Closest thing to a role model. I’d say father figure, but my father was a rapist, so forget that.

I’m going to miss him, when I finally get the hell out of here.

And probably not stop my life of crime.

He pulled up to the front steps of Vogel House and two footmen popped out. One to open the back car door and the other to help Lord Dietfried out and up the steps.

Gogi drove on around to the garage, and cleaned the towncar and got black socks and shoes on, the whites all in a sack, before heading in the servants’ entrance.

Not that he was actually a servant . . . and now never would be.

But the rape gotten son of the daughter of the Family Head . . .

Two incautious siblings, vacationing on the wrong World . . . a World were the five Families that owned the World ruled like warlords, and had thought themselves exempt from civilized law. . .

My mother escaped, eventually. But not her brother. The high-born pack of criminals had paid for their crimes with their lives, but Lord Gustav Horst Vogel had been illegally cyborged and sold . . . never found . . .

It wasn’t my fault, not my actions . . .

but my mother . . . was in utter denial, and in labor before anyone knew she was pregnant.

She couldn’t stand the sight of me, and Grandfather hated me.

Still hates me. They think that cyborging me will somehow punish those people . . . but now they can’t do it.

All his precautions to avoid anyone seeing any part of the Presentation suit were unneeded; no one saw him.

He took the servants’ stairs all the way to the attic.

Slipped between stacks and into the open space under the angle of the roof where he’d moved—without anyone actually noticing—several years ago.

He hung up the jacket, got out clean clothes and dropped down a floor to a rarely used bathroom for a shower.

The adjoining bedroom was officially his. He passed through to disarrange the bed, and leave a drawer ajar.

He sat down with his good computer and checked into the NMCC on Netz site. Maybe someday I’ll start attending in person. But not yet. With my Presentation done . . . I can do a lot more things, but . . . the Project takes up so much time, targets popping up at random times . . .

But he worked steadily for three hours before he slipped downstairs for the informal “kids’ dinner” in the breakfast room.

He nodded at cousins so far removed they probably didn’t have any genes in common. And old enough that they wisely ignored the illegitimate and unwanted cousin.

He grinned and ignored them. The invisible boy!

Saturday, he saddled a horse—one of the retired racehorses that no one else wanted to ride—and spent a peaceful morning alone.

Glitter was his favorite, happy to have an undemanding outing.

They’d come to an early understanding. No bit in her mouth.

A little walk and trot, a canter if she felt like it.

Find a nice place for a picnic lunch. Take off the saddle and let her graze for a few hours.

Saddle up and head home at whatever pace she felt like.

He gave her a good brushing, snuck her a handful of grain.

“I don’t know why they let you ride at all. At least you’ve got enough sense to ride an old nag.”

He looked over his shoulder. “Afternoon, Thudmilla.”

Ludmilla glared. “I could have you horsewhipped.”

“Umm, doubt it.” He led Glitter over to the pasture gate and turned her out.

Took a book out to the garden, and read in peace, quiet, and fresh air.

Checked the time, and walked in to head up to the care ward. Nurse Tersia thankfully abandoned her post and headed down the servants’ stairs.

“Have you guys been picking on the nurse again?” He grinned and found the TV controls and switched around to find something fun . . . have you guys seen the new Igor movie?”

He got it started, hunted down snacks . . . kicked back with the old folk . . . and when Denice brought up their dinners—including one for Gogi—she stayed and watched “Because the ending is so cool!”

Utterly impossible, but, hey, it was a mooovie . . .

Rich came up for his shift and shook his head at the snack debris. “Honestly Gogi, you are such a bad influence on everyone up here . . .” with a grin as all four guys and Lady Alia made rude gestures . . .

He headed up to his attic hideout and stayed up late surfing the Netz. Slept in, took a long hot soak, then caught up on news, and with great reluctance dressed for dinner.

Delicious, extravagant . . . he was totally ignored, so all was good.

Then back up to the attic, where his computer was flashing.

A notification that a Cyborg with the designation KHR was on the Board. Converted in 3720.

The first letters of a Cyborg’s ID number was the World he’d been cyborged on. Khrushchev was where they’d taken Lord Gustav . . . eighteen years ago.

Twenty-second time it had happened since he’d started looking.

His mother hadn’t wanted to touch the (very large) monetary recompense she’d gotten from the criminal warlord. Her father had stuck it in a brokerage account, along with his recompense for the loss of his son and ignored it.

Gogi had found it, and hacked it, given himself access.

Drained ten percent of the annual increase into the Class Four he created for himself, under the management of a professional company .

. . just once. And then ten percent of the increase annually into the company he formed.

Which had given him control of an amazing amount of money.

So PFUG, Inc. bid the asking amount for a tiny chance that this Cyborg would be the right one.

Project Find Uncle Gustav.

This Cyborg was actually on Solzhenitsyn, which made the pick up a little awkward, but his final destination, easy.

He just walked out the servants’ door, out the deliveries’ gate and hiked three miles to the storage place. His big recreational vehicle was under a roof, driven and serviced regularly, well supplied with almost everything he’d need.

He placed an order, and picked up sandwiches on the way. Raised his bid . . .

Stopped at the Records Bureau to run his Cert through the system, and get his Presentation on it.

Then backtracked to Portal Facility Five. His bid was accepted. Sent the money. He got an acceptance code as he waited in line for the Portal to Solzhenitsyn.

KHR /7352437491935/CPI2/property of the Bureau of Security/3720 . . . was all his.

Portal Security gave him a bare glance. The RV had been back and forth often.

Gogi drove through the Portal into bright daylight. Checked the map of the city, and headed for the Board’s pickup dock.

Most Cyborgs were large men. This one, like half the Cyborgs he’d bought, was also aggressive. The Board staff escorting him out looked wary.

Gogi opened the side door. “C’mon in.”