Syndust Files II

An L2 Investigation (Part 2)

Prologue

The Concordium Health Ministry officially classified Pandeus as a controlled therapeutic substance in 2187, precisely eleven years after the first widespread implant rejection crises began among the Charian population. The synthetic compound—derived from rare mineral deposits found only in the Praxis Belt—became the foundation of authorized neural integration therapy.

Detective-Specialist Herve Hetton is the first L2 officers authorized for the specialized implant suite that now adorned his scalp and spine—twenty-seven neural interfaces that operated at computational speeds no unaugmented mind could comprehend. He is on the trail of a dangerous Pandeus substitute and stolen experimental implant technology.

Continued…

The corridors of Sector 17 pulsed with synthetic light, casting deep shadows across the faces of those unfortunate enough to dwell in the underbelly of the city. Hetton moved through the crowd with predatory efficiency, his enhanced senses filtering through the cacophony of sounds and scents.

Reus struggled to keep pace, his hand hovering near his sidearm. "We should have brought backup," he muttered.

"Unnecessary," Hetton replied, his gaze fixed on a nondescript doorway ahead. "Probability of violent confrontation: 17.8%. Probability of successful information extraction: 89.4%."

The dealer's establishment was a mixture of archaic and cutting-edge technology—a paradox common among those who trafficked in black-market commodities. Kriva Nexus was a small Zelaevis, his reptilian features partially obscured by a hood, skin-shifting slightly in response to their entrance.

"Concordium business," Hetton announced, flashing his L2 credentials.

Kriva hissed, his clawed hand reaching for a concealed weapon.

Hetton moved with inhuman speed, pinning the dealer against the wall before he could complete the motion. "Vikam Denon. Syndust. Information required."

The Zelaevis's eyes widened, pupils dilating with fear. "I-I sold him product, yes. But he wasn't my only customer for that grade."

"Elaborate."

"He mentioned needing it for an implant. Something experimental." Kriva's skin rippled, attempting to camouflage—an instinctual response Hetton observed with clinical detachment. "When he couldn't afford more, I connected him with people who could help. An underground cyber clinic in the industrial district. They'd pay for his Syndust in exchange for... services."

Hetton's analytical mind processed the new information, calculating probabilities and connections. "Clinic designation and location."

---

The industrial district smelled of oxidized metal and synthetic lubricants. The cyber clinic occupied the basement of an abandoned manufacturing facility, its presence betrayed only by the subtle electromagnetic signatures detectable by Hetton's implants.

The raid was efficient—three security officers disabled, five medical personnel detained, and a wealth of illegal technology confiscated. But the primary target had already fled.

"They were here," Hetton stated, examining the surgical bay. Blood residue and cellular material confirmed his suspicions. "Vikam's implants were extracted and immediately transplanted."

"Into who?" Reus asked, surveying the advanced medical equipment with evident disgust.

"Brayfen Clarke," Hetton replied, having extracted the information from the clinic's data core. "Former Concordium researcher. Current status: fugitive."

Hetton's comms interface activated, the L2 priority signal bypassing standard security protocols. The message was clear and direct:

LOCATE AND APPREHEND IMPLANT RECIPIENT IMMEDIATELY. CONCORDIUM SECURITY BREACH LEVEL 1.

---

The pursuit led Hetton across three districts, through maintenance tunnels and abandoned transit lines. Reus had been left behind—a tactical decision based on the Gervian's physical limitations and the high-stakes nature of the mission.

Hetton's tracking algorithms narrowed down Brayfen Clarke's location to an old atmospheric processing facility. As he approached, his neuraloptics detected three distinct biosignatures.

The confrontation was inevitable. Hetton entered the facility with calculated precision, disabling the rudimentary security measures.

"Brayfen Clarke," Hetton announced to the three figures huddled around a makeshift communications array. "You are in violation of Concordium law regarding illegal implant procedures and theft of proprietary technology."

Clarke, a thin Gervian with the hollow eyes of someone who hadn't slept in days, stepped forward. His companions—both displaying signs of identity alteration—remained partially concealed in the shadows.

"It's not what you think, Investigator," Clarke said, his voice surprisingly steady. "I didn't steal the implant. I'm trying to prevent a catastrophe."

Hetton's analytical systems detected no deception in Clarke's biometrics. "Explain."

"The consciousness downloaded into this implant," Clarke tapped his temple where fresh surgical scars were still visible, "belongs to Caecus."

The name registered immediately in Hetton's reference core. Caecus, the Gervian historian turned anarchist, was declared an outlaw and reportedly killed during an attempted coup in a remote Concordium province twenty years ago.

"Impossible. Caecus is deceased."

"His body died," Clarke agreed, "but his consciousness was uploaded before execution. Crencorp acquired it for testing their new implant technology. But they didn't know what they had—or perhaps they did, and that was the point."

Hetton processed this information, running probability scenarios. "Caecus's consciousness is now active within your neural network."

"Yes," Clarke confirmed. "And he's brought evidence of high-level Concordium corruption. The coup wasn't about overthrow—it was about exposing the truth."

Before Hetton could respond, his enhanced senses detected movement outside the facility—the distinctive bio-signatures of Zelaevis assassins. Their presence confirmed Clarke's claims with a 97.2% probability.

"We have company," Hetton announced, recalibrating his tactical approach. "Zelaevis. Assassins."

The attack came swiftly—three Zelaevis infiltrators with military-grade camouflage implants breached the facility's perimeter. Their skin shifted and flowed, adapting to the environment, making them nearly invisible to standard vision.

Hetton's neuraloptics switched to thermal imaging, tracking the subtle heat signatures of the assassins. The first fell to a precisely calculated strike to its neural cluster. The second managed to slash Hetton's arm with poisoned claws before being neutralized.

The third Zelaevis targeted Clarke, recognizing the primary objective. Hetton calculated trajectories and launched himself between the assassin and Clarke, absorbing the impact of the attack. The Zelaevis's claws penetrated Hetton's reinforced dermal layer, injecting a neurotoxin designed to disable implant functionality.

Hetton's systems immediately initiated countermeasures, isolating affected neural pathways while maintaining critical functions. With mechanical precision, he grasped the Zelaevis by its throat, applying exactly enough pressure to render it unconscious without causing fatal damage.

"Why protect me?" Clarke asked as Hetton's systems fought against the toxin's spread.

"Data analysis indicates Concordium corruption probability at 94.6%," Hetton replied, his voice temporarily distorted by fluctuating neural systems. "L2 protocol mandates investigation of all threats to Concordium integrity, including internal corruption."

Clarke nodded solemnly. "There's only one place we can go now—somewhere beyond the Concordium’s reach while we gather allies and evidence."

Hetton's processors calculated the variables, weighing duty against justice, protocol against purpose. His L2 designation was meant to serve the Concordium's highest ideals, not protect its corruption. "The Genesis," Hetton stated, referencing the colony ship preparing for departure to the Proxima Centauri system. "Departure in 17 hours. Security protocols can be bypassed."

---

The colony ship Genesis loomed in the docking bay, its massive hull gleaming under the artificial lights. Thousands of colonists—scientists, engineers, farmers, and their families—were boarding, carrying with them the hopes of establishing humanity's foothold among the stars.

Hetton and Clarke, along with Clarke's companions, moved through the boarding procedures with falsified credentials. Hetton's L2 clearance, not yet revoked, provided sufficient authorization to bypass secondary security checks.

As they ascended the boarding ramp, Hetton's comms interface detected an incoming priority message from Precinct 247. From Reus.

"I know what you're doing," the message read. "And why. Evidence of the corruption is spreading through secure channels. You've started something that can't be stopped. Good luck among the stars, Het."

Hetton archived the message in his psymemory, alongside the case file of Vikam Denon. The murder had been solved, but the investigation had only begun. Beyond the Concordium's reach, with the evidence contained in Clarke's stolen implant, they would build a case against those who had corrupted the principles Hetton had sworn to uphold.

As the Genesis detached from its moorings and accelerated toward the stars, Hetton stood at a viewport, watching the city shrink beneath them. For the first time in his existence, he was deviating from programmed protocols, following instead the higher principles those protocols were meant to serve.

The dull pain of his implants seemed to fade as the ship broke free of the planet's gravity well. Ahead lay uncharted territories, both physical and moral—a new frontier where justice might be found among the stars.

By James Landes