Patrols had been less and less calm in recent weeks. This happened every year after the snow melted, and the earth warmed, and the town slowly shook off the sluggishness of a winter spent indoors. Jatt and Gyace understood the perils presented by the Intrepid Minds gang that operated in the far reaches of the town. As soon as their transport dropped them off, they’d established a communication link to the local precinct, verified the capacitors on their stun-batons were full and prepped their shields on their chest guards.
They set up a grid pattern for the night’s territory. Heads on a constant swivel, they walked up and down the asphalt streets still driven by rubber-wheeled cars. The whole neighborhood felt like a place out-of-time. Gyace often said this beat felt like patrolling the past, as if they walked along a backlot at a movie studio.
“At least the cars use fuel-cells. I heard there’s a new trend in Brooklyn where they’re using fossil fuels again,” Gyace said, shaking his head in amazement.
“How? The UN owns all the remaining oil.”
Gyace shrugged. “Probably using natural gas? Or the corn thing?”
“Ethanol, if my high school science memory works,” Jatt answered.
“I don’t really know. It’s a hipster thing.”
“Can’t see how it’s legal.”
“It’s Brooklyn,” Gyace said. “If they think it’s classic and cool, they’ll find a way.”
“Brooklyn is the kind of place I can’t imagine,” Jatt said. “You remember the history about gang violence there? Bullets flying around, gangs populated by the uneducated and hopeless?”
“Right? Imagine how much easier our lives would be.” Gyace barely got the words out when they heard a faint fizz nearby. Immediately, the displays on their visors blinked on.
“HOMEMADE ROCKET LAUNCH. 300 METERS SOUTH AT BEARING 178.04,” said a pleasant, robotic female voice in their earpieces.
“Here we go,” Jatt said. He took off down the long, straight residential street. Gyace followed at the recommended four paces. Both had batons out and raised. Their tips glowed a dull yellow, power on but not yet armed.
“What’s over there? Just houses?” Jatt barked.
“THE AREA IS ENTIRELY RESIDENTIAL. THERE ARE SIX HOUSES WITH POOLS, TWELVE WITH SHEDS, NINE WITH MISCELLANIOUS FEATURES.”
Gyace pointed to their right. An arc of white light flew up into the air, reached its zenith and fell back to earth. The rocket’s fizz reached their ears just as it fell from view.
“Let me see the sheds,” Jatt ordered. In his corner display, schematics and details on the houses with sheds popped up.
“What are they launching?” Gyace asked between huffs of breath.
They tore around a corner, turned right and accelerated again. Three blocks ahead, a host of rockets shot into the air, fizzing and crackling. Most reached a peak, failed, then fell back down. But one kept moving up and up, intent on slipping its earthly bonds.
“Trackers,” Jatt barked in frustration.
“Is it? They’ve been launching them for years,” Gyace said. “Why so many? And why would any fail? It’s tech they’ve perfected.”
“Putting new recruits through their paces?” Jatt guessed.
“I’ll call it,” Gyace said. “Precinct 9B, this is Patrol C. Rockets launched in a backyard out here. We’re en route.”
“Confirmed,” came a deep voice in reply. “We’ll prep backup.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Jatt growled in frustration. “They’re already gone. They got their launch off. There’s some failures we can collect, but one went through. We lost sight in the cloud cover.”
“Confirmed. We’ll attempt to find it,” the precinct voice answered.
“Fat chance,” Gyace said. He clicked a button on the side of his baton. The yellow glow morphed to a neon green. He wasn’t taking any chances.
The display pointed them toward a tall fence. Presumably the launch site was on the far side. They prepped their uniforms, ran at full tilt toward the wooden obstacle
“Moon jump. Three, two, one, engage,” Jatt counted down then stomped on his left foot. Gyace mirrored the move. Each leapt into the air, the gravity-limiters in their boots activated. With pristine form, they burst into the air, twelve feet up, right knees bent, batons raised in firing position. They soared over the fence.
Each landed with grace in the backyard. Jatt scanned the area with his visor display. Gyace moved to his right to provide cover.
It saved them both. A dull whump sounded from somewhere near the house. Jatt let out a low grunt of surprise as something stunned his feet. He went to ground in a heap.
“Visor! Get his visor!” someone called from the dark. Gyace turned and let off two stun blasts toward the voice. They slapped into the fence and dissipated harmlessly.
“Backup! It’s an ambush!” Gyace hollered. He dove clear, rolled expertly behind a tree. He came up on his knee, baton leveled at the yard. Movement to his right. He let out a blast. It crackled as it hit. The gang member fell, but was up in a moment.
“They have shields!” Jatt called out. He laid himself out flat, stunned legs useless. But he was an old pro, and his baton was already in firing position. He let out a few shots toward the dark corners of the yard.
“Abandon ship! Here comes help!” This came from the roof.
“That’s our backup,” Gyace said, relief in his voice. He saw a figures move through the shadows and let off rounds he knew wouldn’t hit home. Anything to help chase off the gang.
Jatt swung his baton toward the roof, but he couldn’t see who had sounded the alarm. He and Gyace both faced the house. This proved a mistake.
From behind him, a hand shot down, grabbed his visor display and yanked it free from his helmet. Jatt swung around to try to hit the thief with the butt-end of his baton, but his flat position limited his motion. He connected only with the night air. By the time he rolled over, there was no one behind him.
“Patrol C, report!” The deep voice from the precinct ordered.
“Intrepid Mind encounter. Maybe half a dozen of the nerds,” Gyace answered. “Backup is en route. We didn’t catch anyone.”
“They got my visor,” Jatt said then swore a few times. “Can the backup scan the surrounding houses?”
“Negative. Ground support en route,” the precinct replied. “Air support is needed downtown for the event.”
Gyace broke from his cover and swept around the house’s yard. He called it clear. The Intrepid Mind gang members were gone. He went to his partner and took a quick vital scan. Aside from the stunned legs, he was unharmed.
“That was on purpose,” Jatt said between more curses. “They knew the air support would be downtown. The rockets were a trap. They wanted the visor.”
“Precinct, they’re clear with Jatt’s visor,” Gyace reported. “What can they get off of it?”
On the far side of the house, they saw blue-and-red lights whirl into view. A heavy truck screeched to a stop. Moments later, four SWAT members poured into the backyard and secured the perimeter.
“I’ve remotely wiped the personal and police data,” answered the deep voice. “But they must have suspected that. They want the tech.”
“To make their own?” Gyace groaned in frustration. “Wasn’t the whole point of centralized technology to keep it out of the hands of garage scientists?”
“These guys aren’t garage scientists,” said a rich, female voice beside them. They looked up to see the SWAT leader towering over them. Her raid hair burst out of her helmet in a lush pile of curly locks. “Not all of them, anyway. Intel says at least two leaders from the east coast were brought into town in the last few weeks.”
“Oh boy,” Gyace said.
“Probably MIT-educated.”
“What do they want?” Jatt asked.
“Same thing they’ve always wanted,” she said gravely. “They want their tech back. They want a decentralized world, uncensored information, all the things that almost tore the world apart for the first seven thousand years of civilization.”
“Idiots,” Jatt spat. “Don’t they know it’ll bring chaos?”
“They do not believe chaos is the point.”
“I hate these nerds,” Jatt said with real venom in his voice.
Floodlights kicked on as the backup team set up the crime-scene examination gear. The back of the house, dirty and boarded and clearly abandoned, came into clear view.
“The problem is that they aren’t nerds. At least, they are not only nerds,” she said.
“What are they?” asked Gyace.
“Revolutionaries.” She pointed to the side of the house. There was red paint sprayed onto the deactivated solar vinyl.
INTREPID MINDS BREED FREEDOM
ALL YOUR TECH ARE BELONG TO US
JERKS
The Tall Tale Year 