Specialist: Counter-intel, Hand-to-Hand Combat
Augments: Marine Combat & Recovery Boosters (2036, 2037, 2038)
Approach with Extreme Caution
Cole clasped hands with Kade. "Kade."
Kade responded. "Good to see you, Wats. This is my friend Sam. She should be on the list now."
Wats raised an eyebrow, eyes still on Kade. Then, slowly, he nodded. Calm, dark eyes turned towards her. "Samara Chavez. You're on the list. I'm Wats." He extended his large brownskinned hand.
Sam had read Cole's bio already. A refugee from war-torn Haiti, brought to the US by a Marine who'd met and married his mother. Cole had enlisted in the Corps at age eighteen, distinguished himself in missions across the globe, been handpicked for augmentation and promotion. Then he'd been captured by rebels in Kazakhstan. The man who emerged from that months-long ordeal was different. A peace activist. A Buddhist. A pacifist. Had captivity changed him? Or something more?
Sam took his hand. "Nice to meet you, Wats."
His grip was firm but not forceful. Those hands could crush steel. They'd killed men across two continents. Even with her newer, top-secret fourth-generation enhancements, Sam wasn't sure she wanted to mess with Watson Cole.
"Please turn off any radios," he said.
Why?
"Sure," she answered.
She pulled her show phone from her jacket pocket, flipped it to standby, used the motion as cover to blink the surveillance gear on her body into passive mode.
Kade was returning his own phone to a pocket. He turned and smiled. "Wanna go see the space? We're still a little early."
"Absolutely," she answered. "Lead on."
Lane led her through a large heavy door, the kind Sam suspected might be EM shielded, and closed it behind them. On the other side was a hallway. Kade opened the door at the far end and they stepped through into a large open space, the true interior of the original hangar. It was at least two hundred feet across, with a vaulted ceiling seventy or eighty feet tall – a space you could fit an old 747 into. A circle of couches occupied one end of the hangar. Along one wall was a bar. A dozen people were milling about, apparently setting up for the party. At the other end she saw a DJ platform with four large screens. Behind them was the DJ, dark-skinned, bleached blonde hair, in multicolored Sufi robes.
Data scrolled across her vision in yellow. A person of interest.
Rangan Shankari (2012 - ) aka "Axon" (stage name)
PhD candidate, Neural Engineering, Sanchez Lab, UCSF
Technology R&D Risk Leveclass="underline" Medium [human intelligence enhancement]
Rangan waved at them across the room. "Hey, Kade, can you give me a hand?" he yelled out. "Got a weird glitch in the repeaters here."
Kade nodded. "Sure, give me a minute."
He led Sam in another direction, towards a cluster of people at one end of the space.
"Hey, Ilya," he called out.
An earnest-looking woman of Russian descent looked up at her name. Dark hair, large thoughtful eyes, a simple green dress accented by a gauzy purple scarf around her neck. She smiled charmingly at Kade as they approached her.
Ilyana "Ilya" Alexander (2014 - )
Post-doctoral Fellow, Janus Lab, Systems Neuroscience, UCSF (2039-)
Published works on meta- and group intelligences
Technology R&D Risk Leveclass="underline" Medium [post-/non-human intelligence]
Ilyana Alexander. Another of their little group. A refugee of the 2027 Pudovkin purges in her native Russia. A theoretical neuroscientist whose work focused on cognition in groups and networks.
Alexander hugged Kade in greeting. "Hello, Kade."
Kade smiled. "Sam, this is Ilyana Alexander, aka Ilya. Ilya, could you get Sam started?" Kade asked. "I need to help Rangan with something."
Kade touched Sam's arm. "We have a dose for you. Ilya will set you up. I'll see you in a little bit."
"Thanks," Sam replied. "See you soon."
Kade turned and headed off towards the DJ table.
Ilya led her out of the main hangar, through a door labeled "Crew," and then beyond that to a cozy chill space.
They sat together on a couch. From out of her bag Ilya produced a small glass vial. Inside was a dark, silvery fluid.
Sam felt her pulse quicken.
"You've never used Nexus before?" Ilya asked.
"Never," Sam lied. Only in training, she thought.
"This is Nexus 5."
Nexus 5?
Nexus 3 was the most common Nexus formulation on the street. Nexus 4 had been a flash in the pan out of a lab in Santa Fe, put down quickly in a joint mission between the ERD and the DEA. Something called Nexus 5 was rumored to exist, but until this point had never been confirmed.
"Where do you guys get it?" she asked Ilya.
Ilya hesitated just a moment too long. "We have a friend on the East Coast who gets it for us."
She's lying, Sam thought.
"You have experience with psychedelics?" Ilya asked.
"The usual. Experimentation in college. Not a regular thing."
"How'd you tolerate them?"
"Fine. I had fun. Just nothing I needed to do too often."
Ilya nodded. "Good. Experience with psychedelics always makes this easier. The first time people try Nexus can be a little disorienting, especially the first hour or so. Your brain is learning how to interface with the drug and other brains. With a whole party full of people pressing up against your mind, it's going to be even more intense."
Sam frowned. "I thought Nexus only worked at short range, like arm's length maybe."
"Usually." Ilya's gaze flickered away for a moment. "But there are ways to increase the range."
Pieces clicked together for Sam. The "no transmitters" rule. The "repeaters" Rangan had mentioned. These kids had found a way to extend Nexus transmissions.
Dear god.
"Sounds great," she replied. "I'll take your lead."
Her pulse was quick now. Her stomach was a knot.
Ilya popped the top of the vial. Sam caught a glimpse of a metallic liquid swirling through the glass. Brownian motion mixed tendrils of grey and silver. For an instant she had the impression of the drug as a living thing, aware, alert, purposeful.
The moment passed. Ilya handed her the vial, followed closely by a glass of juice from the table.
Sam downed the drug. The liquid tasted strongly metallic, slightly bitter. It felt heavy on her tongue, oily as it flowed down her throat. She sipped the juice. It was orange-guava. It cut through the taste and feel of Nexus instantly, leaving her mouth just slightly sweet, tart, and tropical.
Now for the other part I hate.