by JC Hay
"Nah." Yashilla waved her hand in dismissal. "Even when we were together, I wasn't his. Not like he looks at you. Not like you look when you're thinking about him. He deserves a shot at being happy."
Netta's cheeks heated, but she resisted the urge to fish for further confirmation regarding Joshi's feelings. His safety was all she hoped to accomplish. So long as he was free, she could find her own path. "What about you?"
The hacker snorted quietly. "The sooner this is done and I can get back in my hidey-hole, the better. I don't like being out here in meatspace. That's what will make me happy."
Truth be told, with her AR disguises disabled, Yashilla wasn't unattractive. Mostly bald, but that was clearly to keep the myriad of ports that dotted her skull clean. And she'd used the extra skin to allow more space for tattoos. Like the disguises, her appearance helped keep people at a distance. Netta had spent less than an hour with her and had figured that out. Likewise, she'd decided she enjoyed the woman's company regardless.
"Once we know the cure works, you can keep it online?" That was the crucial part of the plan, of course. If anyone could find the instructions, it couldn't be owned. Or monetized. And once the corporations couldn't make money, hunting her wouldn't make good business sense.
Yashilla spread her hands with a grin. "Information wants to be free, as someone once said."
Netta loaded the first two doses with twice the normal amount of sedative. Bao's files indicated he was egotistical enough to want to start treatment right away. Even without poison filters, the modifications that Bao carried would be difficult to overcome. If he wasn’t upgraded further, the massive dose would incapacitate him but it shouldn't be enough to kill him.
She hoped to have the pleasure of doing that herself, once he'd blacked out and Joshi was safe.
As murder scenes went, Netta had seen more ominous. The omnipresent pigeons had taken up on the wires outside, in enough numbers to keep equally successful gulls away. Graffiti, both real and AR, covered the low cinder-block walls out front, including a long string of preening neon-pink flamingos. Not that the birds wintered in Mumbai anymore. Wild flamingos had been extinct for decades. And the birds that remained in zoos weren't allowed to go anywhere.
Broken glass had been set into the mortar atop the wall to discourage the pigeons from settling there, and to dissuade any would-be wall-jumpers. Fortunately or not, she'd be going in through the front door.
Baring the differences in graffiti, the location wasn't dissimilar to the neighborhood where she'd spent the last three years. At least it looked like what she'd seen from the windows of her lab.
She stepped through the gate into the thin courtyard that fronted the building. The rains had turned the area into a weed-choked garden, and it would remain so for the next few months until it died back and waited for the cycle to repeat.
And that was biology's secret to success, really. Patience for the proper moment.
On the door, bright blue painter's tape covered the name of a textiles company with a broad X to indicate they'd since moved on from the location. The door hung slightly ajar, and Netta pushed it open to enter a small entry hall between a pair of offices. Despite a few broken windows, none of the graffiti had followed her into the building. Instead, the visual quiet unnerved her—she'd never expected to get used to the constant AR chaos that comprised the streets of Mumbai, but the silent, powerless interior made her miss that barrage of advertising and color.
The door at the end of the hall stood open, and beyond it she could see the broad, empty room where the machine looms had once stood. She stepped through onto the loom floor, unsurprised to find Joshi bound to an office chair in the center of the room. She'd read Bao’s files extensively—he had a weakness for melodrama when he had time.
Relief at seeing Joshi braided with concern for him, the hooks digging deep into her heart. Bruises covered the side of his face and dulled his umber skin with purple signposts to Bao's brutality.
Anger and the desire for vengeance blossomed hot on the heels of her concern. Never mind the threats that had been made to her. Bao had threatened someone she cared about. Her partner, and that warranted her hands-on involvement in putting a stop to him.
Netta pushed those thoughts down—this wasn't the time for emotion. Cold analytics were her forte, and that's what she needed right now. Once Joshi was safe, once Bao was unconscious, then she could engage her more primal instincts. It disturbed her how much she already looked forward to it.
Joshi groaned and raised his head. She crossed to him quickly, and at the sound of her shoes on the concrete he focused on her. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be on the flotilla."
She snorted. "Good thing for you that one of us has common sense."
"I assume you mean me, because wandering into an obvious trap is pretty much the exact opposite of sense."
The fact he could still make her smile, even in his current state, even knowing they could both die at any moment, spoke volumes. The worry that had clenched its fist around her heart eased slightly. "You really need to learn to be more grateful," she said. "I'm saving your life after all."
"That remains to be seen." Bao stepped out around a support column, carrying a broad, double-barreled pistol with casual lethality. The small dog he'd saved padded after him, features alert for a cue from its master. "While Mr. Joshi's not got much life left, chances are he's got more left than you."
He gestured, and she stepped back from the chair, her hands open. "Killing me's a moot point."
He rolled his eyes. "You underestimate the power of closure, Doctor. You and your pet project have been a hassle, as well as a professional liability. Turning the page on you both will be enormously satisfying." He stepped closer, stopping so that Joshi sat at the exact middle of a line between them. The creases on Bao’s pants were impervious to the humidity, still sharp enough to stick out in the gloom.
She forced herself to smile and ignore the broad black barrels of the gun. "And how long will you have to enjoy that satisfaction? Your files aren't as well hidden as you think—at least not with a skilled hacker and a grudge."
He paused, the tip of the pistol drooping slightly. "You're not going to distract me, Dr. Schulmann."
"How much calcium do you have to take to keep the neural upgrade from leaching your bones instead? Three thousand milligrams? Five? Your system can only ingest so much in a day. When that stops being enough, what then? Is it already too little? Are the pads of your fingers just not quite as sensitive as you remember them being?"
The flash of panic crossed his face so quickly she almost didn't see it. IRS could be staved off if you only had one or two implants, but for operatives like Bao and Joshi, it was an unavoidable reality. The signs were already in the last physical exam that Yashilla had provided from Bao’s Corporate Services file.
"So you're going to bribe me instead. Interesting, but not uncommon."
"Don't think of it as a bribe. Think of it as the possibility to change your fate." She nodded at the small dog. "After all, even a dog deserves a second chance."
Bao smirked. "And which of us is the dog? Which of us is getting the second chance? Me or you?"
"I'd like to think we both do." She set her purse on the concrete, careful to show that it was well out of Joshi's reach, and spread her hands. "I'd also imagine that getting out from under Corporate Services' thumb is plenty of incentive for you to return the favor."
"Not having to rely on them for IRS drugs is hardly the same as getting me out from under their collective thumb. Ask Mr. Joshi. They own you long before you have to rely on them for survival." He stepped forward and prodded her purse with the toe of his immaculate shoe. "It would go a long way," he agreed. "But that doesn't mean I'm interested in your deal."
"Oh, I already know you're interested, otherwise you would have killed me when I came in the door. You had a perfect target, with me silhouetted in the bright doorway."
Bao chuckled and inclined
his head. "The thought crossed my mind. But you're correct. I wanted to hear you out at least."
"Decided it wouldn't be fair to have the dog you saved outlive you?"
"Dogs aren't people, Doctor. They are nobler. Less inclined to treachery." He lifted her purse and rummaged through it, then pulled out the zippered neoprene bag. He opened it to reveal the ten injections lined up and numbered, and whistled in surprise. "You actually brought it with you. Amazing."
"What were you thinking?" Joshi's voice was incredulous. "Do you have any idea what that would be worth? What's to stop him from killing both of us and taking it?"
A possibility she'd considered and quickly dismissed. "It's worthless without me. There's nothing he could do with it. He'd have one treatment series, and nothing more. Nothing to sell, and that's the important part."
Bao nodded. "All I have is your word, Doctor. It's not as though I can identify the contents of the vials with my eyes. For all I know, you’ve poisoned the entire batch just to get your revenge after I've killed you."
Netta forced herself to smile at his cold reason. "Exactly. But with me on site to monitor you, I'll be able to track your vitals through the first dose and keep you alive." She took a step forward. "You'd have to find someone to administer the remaining doses, but a person of your means shouldn't have trouble with that."
The gun snapped back into position, barrels staring at the center of her chest. Netta froze in mid-step.
"I already said I'm not your guinea pig. If it works, after all, you can create a second treatment. Assuming you haven't already done so, which I doubt."
She’d made two more series, actually. A normal dose for Yashilla and one with the bare minimum of sedatives for Joshi. As compromised as his system was, too much could kill him.
"Fortunately, I've restrained your patient for you." Bao indicated Joshi's chair.
Panic thumped in her chest. Joshi had adrenal implants, she knew. That would help push down some of the sedative, keep his heart beating while the drugs worked through his system, but it might not be enough. She’d put enough in the dose to overcome Bao’s system. She doubted Joshi’s would be able to handle it. "You're being foolish. Just let me—"
The safeties clicked off on both barrels, and Bao brought them up to her face. "It wasn't a request. Besides, you were so willing to use him as a subject earlier, why so hesitant now?"
She didn’t look at Joshi, didn’t want him to see the fear on her face, but his eyes bored into her. Netta knew he'd be willing her to make a different choice, but this was the road they'd been given. The only thing she had left to do was follow it. "If it works, you'll let us go? Both of us?"
"After you've treated me, then of course." Bao set the neoprene pack down on Joshi's lap and stepped back, pistol to one side. "Your patient awaits.
Netta picked up the first vial and used her fingers to trace the side of Joshi's face. "I said some terrible things. Things I can't take back if..." If my calculations are wrong. If I've screwed this up and killed us both.
"Hush. We both did. It doesn't mean I don't trust you." The fear in his features belied his words, but she understood. Trust wasn't about never being afraid. Trust was about going through with something despite being terrified.
The panic in her belly withdrew a little. She leaned in and touched her forehead to his. "I love you. Just in case." Saying the words out loud felt right. Even if he wanted nothing to do with her once all this was over, he needed to know her reasons for all this.
He responded by slashing his mouth over hers, hunger and fear and desperation as his lips pushed past her defenses and seared the memories of him on her heart. While the heat of his mouth soaked into hers, she pressed the hypo against the skin above his liver and triggered it.
He stiffened, arching back and breaking the kiss by reflex. She dropped the empty hypo to the floor, and it shattered on the concrete. She grabbed his head on either side and held him still long enough to make certain he saw her. "You are strong enough to survive this. Don't fight it."
The convulsions strengthened, and Joshi bucked against the restraints. Before he could spill the chair over, she lowered it to the floor as carefully as she could. The last thing she wanted was for him to crack his skull in a fall. In the corner of her vision, she counted the seconds down, waiting for the sedatives to take effect. Hoping that they wouldn't be too much.
Joshi's struggles slowed then stilled. She peeled open one eyelid to check his pupil, but it was unresponsive.
Another moment and Joshi exhaled in a long, painful rattle and went slack.
"No!" Netta dropped to one knee and checked his pulse, but there was nothing. “It works! There must be interference with the implants that affect his autonomic system.” A pit opened up in her stomach; she teetered on the edge of plummeting.
Bao walked over and checked Joshi’s pulse as well, then shook his head. "Just to be certain you weren’t deceiving me, you understand. It looks like you’re back to the drawing board." His featureless, mirrored eyes stayed focused on her as he pulled a long knife from a sheath on his calf.
She started to close her eyes, hoping he'd make it quick, but Bao only cut the restraints that held Joshi to the chair. He righted the chair and perched upon it with a sigh. "I can’t decide if you thought it would work, or if you actually just poisoned him to save yourself.” He stroked his chin. “Regardless of which is true, living with the pain of knowing you'd killed someone you cared about not once, but twice? Killing you would be a mercy. You're already dead where it counts." He tapped the gun to his chest before holstering it. "Inside."
He hopped off the chair and whistled to the dog, which trotted along after him. "You may take the body and go, Doctor."
The tears wouldn't stop coming, and Netta could barely see as she hefted his body onto her shoulder and dragged him out of the factory to the rendezvous spot where Yashilla would be waiting. Hopefully the epinephrine they’d brought would be enough.
Chapter Nine
T
he sun beat down onto Joshi's face, and he debated never opening his eyes again. Except if I did that, I couldn't enjoy the view. He shoved himself into a sitting position, back tingling where the dock boards had pressed into his skin. He rotated his shoulder, and while the joint still ached, the pain had lessened almost daily. After six weeks, he'd learned that the pain got worse before the daily thunderstorms that rolled through, providing an effective early warning to get back under the coir roof of his residence.
Until the rain started, though, he could enjoy the view. Water the color of sapphires extended out from beneath him in a half moon, before turning into the rich indigo of deep ocean. Directly below him he could see the sand beneath the surface, and knew from experience that it only came to mid-calf.
Of course, twenty years earlier it had been a beach. In the Maldives, even a small rise in sea level had consequences. Never let it be said they weren't entrepreneurial though—the newly flooded area was quickly covered with an open, expansive community of platform homes. He'd heard rumors that they'd be in trouble if a tsunami hit, but he was game to risk it.
After all, he'd survived worse.
The wood shifted under another person's weight, and he turned to see Netta coming out of the house with a drink in each hand. Her skin had tanned in the sun, darkening to burnt sienna, and the constant humidity had turned the waves of her hair into an untamable curl that his fingers twitched to thread into. She handed him a drink and sat next to him on the dock. "You ever going to stop watching for him?"
Joshi chuckled. Trust her to know the real reason for his vigil. "I doubt it." Bao might never show up to finish the job; he might show up tomorrow. At the end of the day, Joshi decided watching the beautiful scenery served as ample reward for his paranoia. He took a sip of the drink, stunned by the amount of alcohol she'd managed to pack into the small glass. He coughed reflexively. "You know this isn't the Caribbean, right? Alcohol's a controlled substance here."
S
he smiled and clinked her glass against his. "Fortunately we're both licensed to have it. Or did you convert while I was inside?"
His hand slid over hers, fingers interlacing. Two months and touching her still gave him an illicit thrill, pleasure he knew he didn't deserve but wanted anyway. "I just won't believe he's abandoned the hunt. It's not like one of us to give up."
"You did."
"That's different. I died, after all."
She unhooked her hand from his and leaned her face into his shoulder. “Your heart stopped. The sedative dose was enough to take out Bao, you didn’t have a chance.” She exhaled, breath stirring the hair on his arm. “I had to hope that your hemoglobin booster would keep enough oxygen in your blood to stave off brain death until we could restart your heart. It’s a miracle it worked.”
He put his arm around her, keeping her close. “Miracle or not, it did.” He’d gotten the boost system so he could hold his breath against a gas attack. He’d expected it to buy him time, not save his life. “I’m here. We’re here, together.”
She nodded and lifted her face. Unshed tears sparkled in her eyelashes, evidence of how afraid she’d been. “Whether Bao gives up or not, BlueGene can't risk anything happening to me." The ‘net had exploded after she'd released her formula. People had started to hail it as the end of Implant Rejection Syndrome, and Netta as a new savior.
Joshi smiled into his glass. Certainly she'd saved him, but that may have been more than just her formula.
Netta took a long sip of her drink, which he noticed didn't cause her nearly the distress it had him. "Honestly, I'm stunned they haven't posted a bodyguard outside. After the story 'leaked', if I so much as have a bad fall, they'll get blamed for it."
He looked at his hand, still finding it hard to believe how much strength had returned. It had been more than a month since his last tremor, and he tried to shove down the fear that it could return at any moment. He'd lived with a time clock on his life for so long; not being able to predict the end left him feeling more than a little unmoored.