South Seas Salvation

by JC Hay

  Zar growled. "Okay, what's going on?"

  "We've got company coming." The hacker spoke without looking up. "Alarms have been disabled for the building. Security cameras are deactivated on both approaches. Does CorpServ really not want us to take this job, Venkat? Or is this one of your stunts to create a sense of urgency? Because I assure you, if I break a sweat, my rates are not going anywhere but up."

  Zar laughed, and she shot him a dirty look, her eyes narrow white slits.

  "You'll excuse me for not sharing your mirth," Venkat said. "I'm locked out of the building's systems."

  The hacker held her hands up. "I didn't do—"

  Before she could finish, the door to the back office exploded, sending wooden shrapnel flying into the room. Zar was already moving, pushing her behind cover as he charged the open door. As the first guard came through the door, Zar hit him with one of the fixer's heavy wooden chairs. The guard blocked most of the impact with his rifle, but it kept the weapon out of position.

  "You better have a back exit, Venkat!" Zar shouted as he punched the guard in the solar plexus. They had brought guns. He had no cause to fight fair. The cyberlimb was the unstoppable force against the guard's all-too-moveable body, and the power behind the punch drove the guard into the doorjamb with a lethal crack.

  Before the first guard had hit the floor, Zar was stepping into the doorway to hold the room against the attackers. The door was a natural chokepoint, and they'd have to come through one at a time, which made them easy targets.

  "Finally!" the hacker shouted. The lights in the front part of the building came on, and the remaining four guards were perfectly illuminated. Several of them struggled with their visors, and Zar realized that they must have been in low-light mode when the lights came up and were temporarily blinded. He didn't need any other invitation.

  The next two guards were easy prey—too close together, a tactical mistake. Zar barrelled into like a living battering ram. The ballistic armor they wore might have protected them from bullets, but it did little against the blunt force of his cybernetic fist. In a handful of heartbeats, both guards were down.

  The remaining two had dropped into cover, and one of them squeezed off a quick burst of suppressing fire while the other released a personal defense drone into the air. Zar barely had time to leap back through the door before the drone sprayed the place he'd been with a tight stream of bullets. Fire burned a straight line across his calf as a glancing shot caught him.

  On the other side of the door, Zar looked around for something to disable the drone. They didn't carry a lot of ammunition, but the semiautonomous machines carried advance friend-foe logic that made them extremely useful for close-in fighting. He used his leg to kick the broken remnant of the chair into reach, and wrapped his fingers around one leg. It wasn't perfect, but it might distract the drone long enough to give him an opening.

  Zar took a deep breath and pressed at his calf. The fabric of his trousers was wet, but it didn't feel like the bullet had pierced anything. Good. The wound shouldn't slow him down. Another breath. Count to three.

  The drone opened fire, leading to panicked shouts on the other side of the doorway, followed by the thump of something heavy hitting the floor. Another quick burst of fire, and the sound of the drone's rotors grew louder as it approached the door. Zar estimated the distance, then leaped up and brought the chair leg down into the middle of the drone. It bounced off the concrete, shattering half the rotors, and Zar finished it off with a strike from his hand.

  "Nice job, Meat. I had that drone under our control. It was on our side." The hacker stormed towards him, making no effort to hide her outrage. "Did you even think? Or do you just assume that all problems can be solved by punching?" She shoved him, and Zar took a step back out of surprise as much as from being off balance.

  "Probably about as often as you assume you can solve it through hacking."

  "I did solve it with hacking!" She whirled and stormed across the small space to where the fixer was crawling out from behind his desk. "What the hell's going on, Venkat? Why's CorpServ trying to stop this gig?"

  Venkat shrugged. "I know as much as you. The job came in through secured anonymous channels, with enough money wired to cover hiring you and Mr. Marks. I run a legitimate business."

  "For a thief who hires other thieves?" Zar walked up, grimacing. "Clearly this is something Corporate Services doesn't want to happen. That's reason enough for me to take the job. How do we get in?"

  Venkat looked panicked. "The client had arranged for a transport jet to bring you in, but if Corporate Services knows about this place, there's a safe bet they know about the plane too."

  "They've got a resupply ship that stops by the Bulwark every month." The hacker tapped a few quick commands onto her forearm. "That ship leaves port out of Mauritius in less than twenty-four hours. It's a slow hauler with..." she paused while she calculated, "an eight-day travel time, but ideally, that will put CorpServ at ease, since we won't be headed straight at them."

  Zar smirked. "Does that mean you're taking the job too?"

  "There is no job without me," she replied. "Or didn't you hear? You need me to open up the security inside the Bulwark. And I need you to absorb bullets meant for me." She gave him a grin that rivaled anything he'd seen in the most unhinged fighters in the arena. "So I guess I'm stuck with you."

  Eight days together. It'd be a miracle if he didn't kill her himself.

  Two

  The presence of someone else in one of her hiding places made Yashilla's skin crawl. This was too close. Too much connection. She didn't get involved with people. Even Joshi, who'd been her friend since childhood, didn't know more than half of the safe spaces and caches she'd scattered around Mumbai. She could feel the bodyguard behind her, even though he carefully avoided touching her. The air he displaced, the warmth of him, made Zar hard to ignore.

  "Is this where you live?" he asked. The lack of judgment in his voice surprised her.

  "Hardly." She used the thumb scanner to unlock a small closet and pulled out the bolt bag stashed inside. She unzipped it to confirm its contents—tool kit, a tangle of connectors and cables in every possible configuration, high-density calorie bars. Enough clothes and toiletries that she could change a few times and not feel constantly filthy. "I was taught never to bring a boy home on the first date."

  He chuckled as he looked around. Not that it would take long; all told the studio was less than one hundred fifty square feet. "Your parents raised you to be a properly demure young lady."

  The words stabbed deeper than she expected. Memories of her father, cooking in the kitchen; her mother reading to her at night. The sirens. Screaming. She shoved the pain back into the box it had crawled out of and forced a response. "Something like that, yeah."

  For a moment, she wished she were standing in her current home. At least then she'd have access to her stash. Being away from Mumbai without her normal pharmacopeia made her heart skip erratically and left her short of breath. At least if she were high she'd be able to push past that, keep herself together. Instead she only had what she was carrying. Yashilla tugged the inhaler out of her pocket and checked the counter on the side. Four hits left. She'd have to make them count.

  She jammed the inhaler into her bag. Note to self, store extra drugs in some of the bolt-holes. "Don't you have a bag or something more to get?"

  Zar hefted the backpack he had slung over one shoulder. "I didn't bring much. Didn't know how long I'd be staying."

  "Not a lot of room for a rifle in there."

  He narrowed his eyes, just a touch. "I don't use firearms."

  Yashilla reached under the table that held this room's computer systems and tugged off the plastic-wrapped pistol she'd hidden there. After checking it through the plastic, she added it to her bag. "I do. Hope that's not a problem."

  Not entirely a lie—she'd learned how to shoot, had defended herself when she was younger, but Joshi had always been the physical side of their
coin. She'd been the lock-pick, the one who solved puzzles about security and purpose. She'd not fired a weapon in five years. People didn't get past her security, and she didn't put herself in harm's way.

  Until now, that is. A chance for wealth beyond the concept of avarice had a way of making a person do new things.

  He looked at her, and for a moment she expected a lecture. He had that same concerned expression that always etched Joshi's features when they were together, and she bristled in preparation for it. Instead he just nodded. "I suppose one of us should."

  Almost on cue, the light blinked in the corner of her vision to indicate her facial-recognition scan had finished. She'd started it running right after the firefight at Venkat's place. Having it back so soon meant he was either everywhere or nowhere. Either result would be intriguing.

  She tapped the control on her forearm to dismiss the reminder. There'd be plenty of time to go through the results once they were underway. Eight days. The idea made her palms sweat, and she resisted the urge to take a hit of the narcotics she'd stashed.

  "What happens after we get to Mauritius?" he asked.

  "Easy. We get on the boat, hide until the port crew gets picked up, and then avoid each other until we get to the Bulwark." After that, she had no clue what would happen. They'd be on CorpServ's home turf. Depending on how quickly she could take over their security systems, it might be a very short trip.

  He nodded and looked at the mostly empty shelf. "How'd you know about the ship?"

  "Know your enemy. Plus, I've always wanted to try a run against the Bulwark itself. It seemed like the easiest way in." She checked her chronometer. "We need to be on our way. We've still got to fly to Mauritius and get aboard before the port crew does." After zipping up the bag, she hoisted it over her shoulder.

  "I can carry that for you."

  "Or you can keep your hands free to do your job."

  His eyes widened in surprise, and Yashilla felt a twinge of guilt for snapping at him. She sealed that line of thought away with a more important realization. She needed storage. If she was going into the heart of CorpServ's internal network, she'd need a way to get data out. She checked the table where she'd hidden the gun and sighed in relief. There was a stabilized protein matrix sitting there, the green light on the side of the small briefcase burning bright to indicate that the delicate memory storage system was still functioning. She grabbed it and crossed the final two steps to the door.

  "We ready?" He smiled, but the gesture seemed strained. "Are you sure there's not a kitchen sink somewhere you need to grab?"

  Honestly, she could think of a dozen more things she'd like to have. Not leaving the protection of the city was top of that list. She knew Mumbai, had survived at every level of the city for decades. Any home advantage she was used to would disappear once they boarded the plane, and the thought terrified her. Not that she planned to share any of that with him.

  She took a deep breath to center herself and gave her hiding place one last glance. "Nah, we're good. Let's go."

  At first, Zar thought they were exceptionally lucky. The autono-cab had been waiting at the airport when they'd deplaned in Port Louis. Though the Mauritian traffic felt ridiculously dense for the size of the city, the self-driving vehicle knew where turns would be and made quick progress through a combination of back alleys and side streets that seemed almost prescient.

  A few moments after that, he caught Yashilla tapping on her forearm as she entered a command.

  "You hacked the cab network?" The mixture of fear and awe in his voice surprised him. The self-driving systems were supposedly unhackable, for obvious safety reasons. Someone who could direct a fleet of cars and trucks could institute a reign of vehicular terror in the city.

  Her response was distracted, her milk-white eyes focused on the middle ground. "Don't be ridiculous. That would be unethical. I've hacked this cab." The vehicle leaned slightly as she took it into another blind turn. "Overriding all of the safety protocols for the driving system is effectively impossible, and the hard-wired failsafes are designed to stop the car if that happens. But it's easy to redirect a cab by telling it that it's empty and needs to reach a perpetually moving next passenger."

  "Doesn't sound easy."

  "That part was a joke."

  He debated pointing out that they were going to be stuck together for more than a week and there was no harm in at least being civil to each other. Then again, she was remotely piloting a cab, probably from a string of CCTV cameras, while in the backseat. He'd grant her a bit of testiness. "When you get a break, you should look up humor on the 'Net. It might explain the concept of a joke a bit better for you."

  She smirked at that, accompanied by a snort that wanted to be more of a laugh. Even that response felt like a victory, though, and momentary pride warmed the space behind his ribs. He grinned, and Yashilla rewarded him with a rude gesture. "Don't distract the driver."

  He looked out the window as the city rolled past. Already the tenor of the buildings had changed from the more built-up downtown region. Residential and commercial zones had dropped away, while office and industrial had taken their place. They were moving quickly enough that storefront AR couldn't keep up, though pieces projected onto the sky remained. A few blocks later the cab pulled to a halt and opened its doors.

  She stepped out, and the cab powered down. He grabbed his backpack off the floor and joined her, asking, "You turned it off?"

  "I started it on a diagnostic reboot. It's the fastest way to remove the ride from its memory. Harder for people to track us. Just in case CorpServ figured out what our next move might be."

  The reminder of their danger made him reanalyze the side street. While not empty, there were remarkably few people around. It took him a moment to realize that the darkness was a lack of AR signs. "Where are we?"

  "Close enough to walk to a number of destinations. Again, on the off-hand chance someone traces the car to us." She shouldered her duffle bag and lifted the protein matrix out of the back of the cab.

  He took the first few steps up the sidewalk before glancing back at her. "I'll lead then. Slim or not, there's a chance they beat us here."

  She walked past him, touching her hand to his biceps. "Yeah, you don't know where we're headed, you don't have access to the security-cam footage, and you don't know the area. How about I lead, and if any surprise bad guys show up, you do your thing." She waved her hand dismissively to encapsulate the nebulous description.

  "My thing being?" He ignored the lingering warmth from her touch, noticeable even against the heat of the air.

  "You know. The punch-punch-punch, this-is-what-your-heart-looks-like thing. Like back at Venkat's."

  "I recall you did half the work, and then scolded me for my exuberance." He grinned and fell into step beside her. The ghost of her touch on his arm distracted him, especially after he realized he could only imagine it—she'd touched his cybernetic right arm. He hadn't felt it at all. He distracted himself by paying attention to their surroundings and trying to figure out their direction.

  The dockyards were still a quarter mile away, but the giant robotic cranes dominated the skyline, moving among the rows of containers like alien spiders. They scanned and collected the shipping containers in a rhythm known only to them. After another few blocks, he and Yashilla found themselves across the street from the dockyard fences.

  Yashilla had pushed back her sleeve, and Zar could see the series of tattooed marks on her skin that indicated the keyboard implanted in her forearm. Her fingers danced over the interface, barely waiting for the implant to glow and provide guidance. She entered a string of commands and must have acquired access to whatever she sought as a moment later she looked back at him. "There are five guards on our end of the dockyard. One's on break though, so we shouldn't count him." She gritted her teeth. "And a pair of CorpServ guys guarding the ship. Just guessing, but given how they're joking about and not on vigilant alert, this is a standard assignment."


  "Even so, if they report anything unusual back to the Bulwark, it won't take a genius to put two and two together. Doubly so if one of them gets video of us." He sighed. "Same holds true if they fail to check in with the all clear." At the same time, there weren't a lot of ways aboard that wouldn't require going through a checkpoint. He paced back and forth across the small space. "You're the one who's said there are non-punching solutions—I'm open to suggestions."

  She responded by reaching into her duffle bag and pulling out a card mimic. "I don't know about you, but I planned to just walk up."

  Yashilla fumed at herself, the heat rising up the back of her neck unrelated to the warmth in the air. She could feel him watching as she crossed the street to the gate, and she hated the fact that she wanted to show off for him by making the break-in look easier than it would be. The momentary weakness frustrated her, even as it left her off balance. She didn't need people in her life. People went away. He was going away as soon as the gig was over.

  And then there was the cyberarm—she had suspected the replacement after watching him fight at Venkat's. The right arm had been too fast, too strong, to be natural. When she'd touched him, it only confirmed her suspicions—solid and unyielding. Power and brute strength under rigid control.

  If she was honest with herself, part of her wondered what it would be like to see that control snap, just a little.

  Maybe that was it—her inherent desire to break things back down, see what made them tick. It served her well with the code and systems that were her playthings, but she hadn't applied that desire to a person in a long time. She set her jaw as she crossed to the dockyard's crew gate. That had to be the reason he infected her thoughts. It was all that made sense.

  She plugged the mimic into one of her ports and called up the options. The dock systems were older, so the RFID on the card scanner would be primitive. The feed from the security cameras displayed in the lower right corner of her vision, giving her the weird déjà vu of seeing herself approach the gate from multiple angles. A few quick taps on her forearm and she fed the camera back its own information from an hour earlier, showing an empty street and an unoccupied entrance.