The Ace of Spades, my most recently completed novel length project, is a 92,000 word science fiction action adventure, with a unique combination of steampunk and cyberpunk themes along with strong LGBT erotic romance themes.

 

The Ace of Spades

By: Kyla Chapek

 

Chapter One

Ace Spades Royal

 

Things were quiet around home base. My gang was laying low after our last score. I took some personal time to just surf the stream and search for Deuce. My little brother wouldn’t approve of me wasting the time, but I was determined to find Deuce and be truly reunited. Being able to communicate with him through our shared ability of Jacking just wasn’t the same as having him here with me in flesh and blood. Who knew what those Empire bastards were doing with his body.

I leaned back in the old, lumpy recliner mounted on a dais at the center of my lower workshop. Here we go, Ace, I thought with a deep breath and let my eyes go unfocused.

A shock jolted up my spine and into my skull when I Jacked in. With my consciousness totally linked to the stream the rusted walls of the real world melted away and were replaced by confusing lines of ones and zeros flashing a rainbow of neon colors. Once I got my bearings and focused, the confused tangle of lines became an orderly pattern. Eventually the lines evolved into a grid pattern with large block shapes spread out along the grid. Pulses of light zipped back and forth along the grid lines representing signals traveling between active modems and servers.

A virtual avatar of myself walked along one of the grid lines pulsing with light. On both sides of me the blocks rose high like skyscrapers. Each block represented an active or dormant server. My main visual perspective was through my own two eyes, but I had a split visual awareness of myself looking down on me from above. When I focused on my bird’s eye view I saw an androgynous figure made up of swirling lines of blue zeroes and ones. My virtual avatar was bald and naked, lacking any genitals that needed covering. The avatar had a slightly enlarged bosom, which was the only hint to my true gender.

The blocks surrounding me varied in shape and size. Most were cubical, but some were spheres, cylinders and cones. The active servers connected to operational modems were lit up with flashing lights. Some were just two stories tall. Others were so tall when I switched to the bird’s eye view and expanded to see the full height my avatar was just a blue speck at the bottom.

A pulsing orb of light zoomed by me along the gridline I followed. As it passed I scanned its contents. It was a mundane correspondence between petty Empire officials. I dismissed the information with a wave of my virtual hand. The next orb of light was an Empire census report of the Far East colonies. I smirked at the inaccuracies of it. The Empire knew shit about half of its many obscure colonies dotted around the world. I waved off this message as well.

The next pulse of light that zipped by me were plans from the Empire science department. It spoke of a new kind of containment field for atomic engines, and studies on a new design of Tesla towers that might quadruple the standard range. Though the information didn’t concern my current query, it would be useful in the future. I copied the file and stored it in my personal memory banks.

I paused to make sure I hadn’t tripped any security alarms or left any virtual prints on the correspondence files. Satisfied, I continued on. As I walked I scanned every signal that passed by me. Some information I discarded and other info I stored away for later. The greatest power in this world is knowledge, Ace, never forget that, I heard my father’s voice in the back of my mind. I pictured my father, Reno, leaning over his cluttered workbench. His large round goggles partially obscuring his face as he tinkered with his newest invention or science project.

Finally I came to the server I was looking for. It was a massive green conical block stretching above me as far as I could see. It was an inactive server and lacked any flashing lights. Despite being inactive, it was still intact and all the information and secrets it once held still resided within it. I walked up to the conical block and placed my virtual hands on its surface. Then I let the information it held flow into me.

I had visited this server before. It was the server of the first detention center my siblings and I had ever been confined in. I let the ancillary information I had already examined in detail roll to the edges of my consciousness. The more substantial leads I had followed up ages ago and had come up with nothing but dead ends. I wasn’t giving up, however. I would follow up every obscure lead if it meant the slightest possibility of finding my brother. The data continued to flow through my mind.

Employee profiles, pay stubs, tax information, even records of the facility’s power use. In nano seconds my mind traced a dozen leads and mentally followed them throughout the stream to see where they lead. I smashed through virtual defenses effortlessly and slipped back out without a trace.

A couple of firewalls gave me trouble. I perceived one as a thick brick wall stretching in all directions as far as the eye could see. With a thought a sludge hammer appeared in my hand and my avatar used it to smash a hole through the security. It took longer than usual to wipe my footprints clean when I left, my avatar sealing up the hole like a professional mason.

At another firewall the security programs appeared as tiger-like creatures made up of blocky shapes and flashing neon numbers. I made a temporary copy of my avatar. My copy distracted the snarling security programs long enough for me to scan the server for the information I searched for.

Nothing but dead ends, always dead ends. I would have let out a frustrated sigh if my virtual avatar actually breathed.

“Where are you, Deuce?” I mumbled as I traced a shipment of miscellaneous medical supplies shipped from the detention center days after my siblings and I had escaped.

“I’m right here, Ace,” a boyish voice said behind me.

I disconnected from the server and turned to face my little brother. His virtual avatar was androgynous like my own, but eight year old boy sized. “Hey, Deuce.”

“What you up to, big sis?” he asked. He knew exactly what I was doing.

“Looking for you.”

“I’m right here.”

“You know what I mean.” I made my avatar cross its arms and cock its hip.

Deuce’s avatar mirrored the position. “You’re wasting your time with that dead server. You’ve spent years tracing every conceivable lead. If I can’t even figure out where the Empire is holding me what makes you think you can find me? Focus your energy on more pressing matters.”

I wanted to stick my tongue out at him, but the avatar didn’t have a mouth. There were indents and curves resembling a face, but no fully formed eyes, nose, or mouth. “What’s more important than finding you?”

“How about getting our hands on a cure?” Deuce’s voice took on a mischievous tone.

“We’ve got independent production of the latest treatment now. We can stop swiping shipments from the Empire,” I reminded my brother. I turned back to the server to continue my search.

“Our people, you included, have already shown resistance to the latest treatment. Don’t lie and tell me your Black hasn’t been spreading. I’m not talking a treatment, Ace, I’m talking a ‘cure’. Like full blown the Black is gone without a trace kind of cure.”

I paused, the Black was the physical manifestation of the Infection many in the Far East suffered from. Though the Symptoms of the Infection could have their perks, it was deadly long term. I whipped around to face my brother. “You’re not clowning around?” I asked serious. If what Deuce was suggesting were true everything was about to change.

Deuce shook his head. “I intercepted a triple coded correspondence between the Ministry of Science and the military. They have Dr. Ives in a new lab at a colony prison about to start testing subjects.”

At the mention of Dr. Ives, creator of the Infection, all reluctance I might have had disintegrated. “What’s the plan?”

Deuce clapped his hands and giggled gleefully.

#

Hours later Deuce shoved me out of the stream against my will. I came back to myself with a sharp gasp. The neon colors of the stream faded and the dull and rusted colors of the real world slowly came back into focus. It took a few moments before I had full control of my body.

I blinked and the large and cracked monitor of our computing box came into focus. My body was still lounged back on the lumpy green recliner at the center of the room directly beneath the monitor hanging from the vaulted ceiling. Springs poked into my backside at random places. My hands rested on the computing box controls built into the arms of the old salvaged recliner.

Movement slowly returned to my hands. My right hand was covered with a long leather glove and the left was bare. I removed them from the controls. The last of my Jacking senses disconnected from the stream and my body was my own again. My head throbbed and my stomach cramped with hunger. Side effects of being fully connected to the stream for too long. Deuce had been right to kick me off, though I would never admit it.

I pushed the leg rest of the recliner down and sat up. The recliner groaned and creaked beneath me. Vertigo hit me, I remained seated as it slowly faded. I rubbed my scalp in an effort to relieve the throb in my skull. My short blue hair was in need of a shower, so was the rest of me. I would bathe and get a fresh pair of clothes before I left. I wanted to be presentable before I turned myself over to the Empire scouts.

When the headache faded to bearable levels and I was confident I could walk steady, I stood and readjusted the old and stained blouse and vest I wore. My lower workshop was a large round room with a dome vaulted ceiling. It was cluttered with tools and random scraps of old world tech I used to keep our computing box in repair.

By the door a sixteen year old boy sat on a small wooden stool and slumped against the rusted steal wall. Quib snored softly and a line of drool glistened on the side of his chin. His long straight hair, dyed a swirl of red and black, covered half of his pale and freckled face.

I smirked and shook my head. The large double bell alarm clock sitting on the floor next to Quib still had a few minutes until it rang. A soft buzzing tickled my ears. I looked around for my hat. The shabby black top hat sat on one of the cluttered workbenches. I picked it up and placed it on my head. The buzzing disappeared. I thanked god for the hat’s special tinfoil lining that blocked out the random techno waves in the air my Jacking senses always picked up on.

There was a metallic click and the double bell alarm clock rang. Quib jerked upright, almost falling off his stool. “Times up, boss,” he sputtered, still half asleep.

I laughed and walked over to him as he fumbled for the alarm clock. “Way ahead of you, kid.”

Quib got the alarm clock under control and silenced the bells. “You feeling okay, boss? Nine hours Jacked in is really pushing it. Doesn’t Deuce say no more than six?”

I waved off his concern. “I need a hot bath and a hot meal. Then I want to see my captains in the war room. We have big plans to make.”

Quib scrambled to his feet and readjusted his suspenders that kept his worn and ripped pants around his hips. “Thought we were laying low for a while?” He worked the wheel latch of the door open.

“Change of plans, my friend.” I stepped through the doorway and Quib followed and shut the door behind us. “Everything is about to change.”

#

“This is a bad plan,” Mercy, my second in command, grumbled. She tucked her long blonde curls into the collar of her trench coat. Mercy was one of the few members of my gang who always wore her hair its natural color. Her freckled face dimmed in and out as we sped under the intermittent lights of the tunnel.

Mercy sat on the opposite side of the automated trolley cart from me. Between us the lever arm of the trolley cart pumped up and down powered by the miniature atomic engine I had retrofitted it with. Warm stale air whipped across my skin as we zoomed down the secret underground tunnels me and my loyal gang of Scavengers used. The tunnels were left over from the old world. I had discovered them while exploring random dead servers on the stream no longer connected to the active cortex.

Moose and Shay, my other two captains, sat to the left and right of the cart. Moose nodded his agreement with Mercy. Moose’s dark face showed little emotion as always and his golden eyes always had a hardness to them that told all around him he was not a young man to be messed with. His short curly hair dyed neon green was currently hidden under a shabby bowler hat. A vest made of thick rubber from old world tires partially covered his bare muscular chest. Tire rubber did a surprising good job at absorbing handgat blasts and there was no lack of material in the old word dumps my gang scavenged from.

“It does seem needlessly risky, Ace.” Shay’s green right eye, her left was covered by a black eyepatch, held little emotion as well. Her hair was styled in a hot pink Mohawk and she wore a mix of torn and tattered old world clothes scavenged from the dump and modern finery straight from the Western Capital she had nabbed during our hijacking jobs.

Like Mercy, Moose and Shay were not happy about my current plan of action. Unlike Mercy, however, they trusted in me enough to follow my commands no matter how crazy they sounded with little argument. Mercy always had to question. As infuriating as this was, it was one of the reasons I made her my second in command. Mercy’s constant questioning kept me sharp and had me always considering every angle.

“Deuce and I have it all worked out,” I assured them. Though I knew the mention of Deuce would be anything but reassuring to Mercy.

“And did ‘Deuce’ consider what will happen if the scouts just kill you on sight instead of taking you into custody?” Mercy asked.

Mercy held her fingers up in quotation marks around the word Deuce. She wasn’t the only one who thought my little brother was just a figment of my imagination, but Mercy was the only one I let relay her doubts so vocally. Most people I would have put my fist in their face a long time ago. Mercy looked too much like her older sister, however, for me to ever muss up her pretty face, no matter how infuriating Mercy could be sometimes.

“My wanted status has been changed to priority live retrieval,” I said smugly. “As long as I clearly identify myself it could be the death penalty for anyone who kills me. Just don’t deviate from my instructions and everything will be fine.”

I had left detailed instructions for all necessary members of my gang so business would continue to run smoothly in my absence. I also sent messengers to my elder siblings in the cities so no one tried to rescue me. They wouldn’t find out what I’d done until it was too late. No doubt they wouldn’t approve of my plan. Especially at this stage of the operation.

My captains still didn’t look convinced. “This is a cure we’re talking about.” I needed them to follow my instructions if this was going to work. “No more Infection. It won’t just suppress the Black. It will eliminate it!”

Shay touched her eyepatch and Moose scratched his ribs, each where their Black manifested. I clenched my gloved right fist. My Black extended from my fingertips to just above my wrist. It had extended all the way to my shoulder before we had gotten our hands on the newest treatment. Once the Black reached your heart you were dead.

“A cure probably means no more Symptoms,” Mercy countered, though I noted her shifting her right foot back and forth. “That means no more Jacking. No more talking with Deuce.”

We were all classified as Infected. My siblings and I were some of the first infected, thanks to the scientists at the youth detention center we were sent to after our father was killed. Then the disease was “accidentally” released from an Empire lab and now nearly everyone in the Far East colonies were Infected, Immune, or could afford the expensive vaccines from the mainland Empire.

More positive side effects of the Infection were known as Symptoms, superhuman abilities Infected individuals developed. There were a wide variety of Symptoms and I was one of the rare individuals who possessed two Symptoms. My Jacking Symptom allowed me to interface with most tech that involved an electric signal. I also had my Shields, the ability to project psychic barriers around myself.

“Deuce will find a way to contact me if it comes to that. But a cure doesn’t necessarily mean no more Symptoms.” I smiled at the reaction this piqued in everyone.

“What do you mean?” Mercy asked.

“Nothing for sure yet. Just stick to the plan and I can guarantee you we will have a viable sample of the cure when this is all over.”

Mercy looked like she was going to argue, but I gave her a hard look. It was my, Remember what happens when you don’t stick to the plan, look. The fight deflated out of Mercy and she nodded.

“We’ll stick to the plan.” I could barely hear her over the whirl of the trolley engine. I felt bad using the look, but it had to be done.

Moose and Shay nodded their silent agreement.

“Excellent!” I clapped my hands together. “Three more miles until my stop.”

With a thought I slowed down the engine a mile from our destination. The engine whirled to a stop directly underneath one of the pools of light. A ladder was bolted to the wall and led up to a closed hatch in the ceiling. I stood and adjusted my top hat making sure the crow’s feather and ace of spades card tucked into the red band were straight.

I had decided to dress a little fancy for the occasion. Though I knew I would probably be losing the clothes when I was taken into custody, I believed presentation was important, and I had a reputation to uphold. I wanted to look good when I was hauled into the Klink.

Beneath a red brocade vest I wore a clean white blouse with lace cuffs. For pants I wore black pinstripe canvas trousers tucked into the tops of relatively new calf high leather riding boots. The shirt, vest and pants were cut and tailored to accentuate what few feminine curves I had. However, most of these curves were hidden under my long brown duster at the moment. It wasn’t a good idea to stay in the sun too long without protection. There wasn’t much of an ozone layer this deep in the Badlands.

After a quick check to make sure I had everything I needed I relieved myself of everything I wouldn’t need. I ejected the small folded crossbow from its hiding place in the thick bracer strapped to my left forearm and detached it.

“At least keep your weapons, Boss.” Moose spoke for the first time since I had laid out the plan. He didn’t hesitate in accepting the crossbow, however, when I handed it to him.

I shook my head and continued to relieve myself of my arsenal. “My Shields will be enough protection until they ID me.” The teleforce laser handgat hanging from my right hip and its holster came next. Then the old style one shot gunpowder pistol I kept tucked in the back of my belt. Lastly I removed the large hunting knife tucked in my left boot. “I don’t mind losing the fancy strings when they take me in, but this shit is custom. Take care of them for me until I get back, Moo.”

Moose smiled, a rare sight on his usually somber face.

I gave myself one last pat down and then slung a tin banjo canteen of water over my shoulder. “Stick to the plan, I’ll contact you in a few days.”

“Good luck, girl,” Shay said.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Mercy grumbled, still not happy, but resigned.

“Don’t worry, I’ve left detailed instructions on how to proceed if it should come to that,” I said, only half joking.

With a wave of my hand I turned towards the ladder. Rust flaked off beneath my gloved hands as I climbed. This hatch hadn’t been used in a long time. Behind me came the whirl of the trolley cart’s engine as my captains pumped the lever arm to start the engine. When I reached the hatch in the ceiling the whirl was already fading.

The wheel on the hatch took a little muscle before it gave. I continued up the ladder and the hatch automatically sprung closed behind me. Whoever had built these passageways had really known what they were doing. There were no electronics or other advanced tech behind the automated action of the hatch; with my Jacking I would be able to tell if there were. Something spring loaded probably.

True darkness cloaked me when the hatch closed. I continued up by feel.

“Do you think they’ll stick to the plan?” Deuce’s childish voice reached my ears as if he were climbing alongside me.

I shrugged as I came to another hatch. “Moose and Shay will keep Mercy on track as long as we’re within the timetable.”

The hatch opened on more darkness. Fifty rings up there was another hatch that opened onto more darkness. Four hatches later and I was still climbing in the pitch black. The air cooled and was less stuffy as I rose. Finally I came to a hatch differentiated by some neon orange paint on it that stood out in the darkness. The Scavenger coding marked the coordinates of where we were at and the recourses nearby. These underground tunnels crisscrossed the entire Far East colonies and beyond. They had proved invaluable to my gang’s operations. The Empire idiots never could figure out how we managed to move so much product while avoiding their scanners.

Before I opened the last hatch I took the pair of round UV goggles from around my neck and fitted them over my face. I reached out with my Jacking senses to make sure there weren’t any tech threats in the immediate area. Then I raised my Shields just in case any low tech unpleasantness awaited me. Satisfied I was ready, I opened the hatch just a crack.

Even with my goggles a green tinted light blinded me, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut. When I blinked the spots out of my eyes I was happy to find the hatch undiscovered. I climbed out, closed the hatch, and recovered it with a thick layer of red sandy earth.

I stood and looked around me at the scorched desert landscape. Everything was tinted green looking through my goggles. I was deep in the wasteland of the East End Badlands and there wasn’t a living thing in sight. Just wind swept canyons and sandy earth. Looking at the bracer on my left arm I checked the compass and the radiation monitor also built into it. The round disk of the monitor was white at the moment, which was good. I turned until the compass pointed in the direction I wanted to go. Before I set off I took a long pull of water from my canteen. It was the heat of the day and it was easy to get dehydrated out here. Then I set out towards my destination.

I walked between high red stone cliffs and passed by a few caves that looked inhabited. The only people out here were Badlander “savages” and Empire scouts trying to kill said savages. I walked on without fear of the cave dwellers. Many members of my gang were Badlands born and bred, and I had called the Badlands home for long enough they considered me one of their own.

The caves reminded me of the one my older siblings and I had lived in just after escaping the youth detention center. It had been on the outskirts of the city of East End proper just outside of the Badlands. Back then we had been denied entrance to the city because of our Infected status. We had to live off of what we could scavenge from the land and the local dump. We would have died if Deuce hadn’t been able to contact me via the stream and relay the knowledge he was able to find.

I smiled, despite the hardships, the two years we had lived there had been happy. Then I frowned at the events that had prompted me to run away and live on my own out in the Badlands. Old resentments towards my older siblings rose up in me, but I squashed them down. I was on friendlier terms with my siblings these days and the operation required their continued support. Deuce said I needed to work more on forgiving and forgetting. Not as easy as it sounded. Even though I loved my siblings, old resentments still lingered and probably always would.

When I was getting close to my target I took to the high ground and scrambled up one of the rocky cliffs. I perched up on a good viewpoint overlooking the valley below. The Empire airship refueling outpost was easy to spot. A dark curls of smoke rose from the chimneys of the collapsible and portable silver domes the scouts used as buildings. I was too far away too see how many soldiers guarded the outpost. However, I wasn’t out of range from jacking one of their ports connected to the cortex and downloading all necessary information. Fifteen guards, five support staff and three battle drones were registered as being active at this outpost. Their server had been updated with my new wanted status so I shouldn’t have a problem when they came for me.

“Their server might be updated, but that doesn’t mean the soldiers are,” Deuce’s voice came from behind me. I looked back over my shoulder. Deuce walked out from behind a boulder and came to sit next to me. The eight year old boy wore his usual blue corduroy suit and flat cap. “Not many of these guys read the daily announcements. I’ve looked at them. They’re long and boring.”

I smiled at my little brother. Not for the first time I wondered what he looked like now. In reality Deuce was fifteen years old, but my mind always portrayed him as he was when I last actually saw him. Deuce wasn’t really sitting next to me. What I saw and heard was how my mind translated the signals he sent me through our shared connection with the stream.

Deuce could have been a photo copy of me when I was eight years old. He had our natural black hair, tan skin and brown, deep-set and narrow eyes. We took after our father who had been of Eastern Empire heritage. I tried to imagine Deuce as a grown young man, but could only picture a slightly younger and more masculine form of myself.

“It’ll be fine, I’ll behave and be a good noncombatant. The first thing they’ll do is a retinal scan for ID and it’ll flash my wanted status.”

“Just be careful while we’re out of contact. They’ll fit you with an inhibitor collar the moment they know you’re Infected, and these new types can block your Jacking as well as your Shields. You’re going to be cut off and vulnerable.” Deuce’s lower lip pouted and his eyes teared.

“Hey, don’t sweat it, little bro.” I gave him a playful punch on his arm. Deuce always felt real when I touched him even though nothing was there. “We’ve worked your plan from every angle and ran every scenario. We’ve got all our pieces where we want them. Now we just need to make the first move.”

“And if there are any surprises we haven’t foreseen?” Deuce asked.

“Then we’ll deal with them as they come,” I assured him. “Nothing is going to come between us and the main objective.”

Deuce smiled and confidence returned to his face. “So, how are we going to get their attention?” Deuce tilted his head towards the outpost.

“When does the next ship come in?”

Deuce’s eyes glazed over before he spoke. “Three hours. Supply shipment from the Western Capital in route for Shadow station.”

“Anything on it we might want?”

“Mostly luxury goods. The ship would be high quality scrap, though.”

“Any fleshies on board?”

Deuce’s eyes glazed over again. “The crew is all automatons. There are a couple of military officials and their escorts on board. No one we would miss.”

“Any stowaways?” I hated collateral damage.

“I don’t see evidence of anyone else on board.”

I removed my top hat and scratched at my blue hair in thought. “There is a pretty big old world dump about a half click that way.” I pointed off to our right. “I bet we can get creative with what we find there.”

Deuce’s lips curled into a mischievous grin. “I sense at least one lifter drone with a welding arm we could get operational.”

#

“This better work, Deuce.” I readjusted the bit of glass I held over the piece of string to maximize the heat reflected from the sun. A curl of smoke rose from the string.

“I’ve ran the numbers six times. We’re at the perfect angle. This is going to be beautiful.”

I glanced up in the direction of the outpost. A large dirigible now hovered over the silver domes. Thick ropes were being lowered from the blimp so it could be pulled down and fully docked. If the string didn’t snap within thirty seconds the blimp would be too low and our aim would be off.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Deuce whispered. His eyes never left the smoldering string.

We had retrofitted an old rusty crane into a catapult of sorts. Deuce designed the trigger for the catapult overly complicated just for fun. The string finally burnt through releasing a mousetrap that knocked over a row of bricks when it snapped. The bricks fell one by one like dominos and the last hit a makeshift lever. This released a guillotine-like blade that sliced right through the cable holding the tension on our catapult.

The groan of metal on metal assaulted my ears as the catapult went into motion. Bits of rusty scrap flew everywhere as the shell of an old truck was lifted and then flung into the air towards the blimp. The truck hit the dirigible right in the center of the ballonet above the gondola. The big balloon popped. The helium system was supposed to be none explosive, but we packed the truck up with enough gasoline and flammable material a ball of flame bloomed from the point of contact like an opening rose.

As the flaming hunks of metal fell to the ground Deuce giggled hysterically and clapped his hands together with glee. I did the same.

“You were right, little brother, it’s beautiful.” I watched in awe as the inferno crashed to the ground, the delayed concussion was music to my ears and sent shivers across my skin. Columns of dust rose from the air where the scout’s cruisers were already driving in my direction.

“I’m always right,” Deuce said in between his giggles.

I rolled my eyes and laughed. He usually was, though I wouldn’t admit it to him. Then I lounged out on the ground and got comfortable while I waited for my ride.

#