Chromed- Upgrade

by Richard Parry

  Haraway frowned again. “It’s a Reed van, I think. I’d have to admit to not being really on form at the time.”

  “You got another?”

  “What?” Haraway looked confused. “Another van? Why?”

  “Cigarette,” said Sadie. “That last one was good.”

  Haraway looked at her for a second, then laughed, handing her the pack and lighter. “Help yourself.”

  “Thanks,” said Sadie around the edge of a filter. She flicked the lighter on. “I could get used to being abducted by the company.”

  “It’s not like that,” said Haraway. “How much do you remember?”

  “Not a lot,” said Sadie. “I remember him, though.”

  “Mason?”

  “Yeah.”

  You’ll find a room where you can go fuck yourself.

  Okay.

  A single hammer drop of sound, and Aldo’s leg was in tatters. He fell, screaming.

  She shuddered, hugging herself. “Not from tonight. I remember that, but…” Sadie hid behind another drag on the cigarette. Her hands shook, so she clenched them into fists.

  “Haraway,” said Mason. “Look, I don’t mean to break up your Kodak moment, but—”

  “Coming,” said Haraway, but she looked at Sadie. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Take your time,” said Sadie. Bonus Round. The man was company from his expensive-yet-bad haircut to his very expensive-and-good shoes. Thought he owned the world. Sadie looked over at the girl huddling inside the rags, scooting over. “Hi.”

  Wide eyes. Dirty face. The girl said something Sadie couldn’t understand. Not the first time you haven’t understood something. Sadie smiled. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but sure.” She held out the pack of Treasurers.

  The girl looked at them then back to Sadie. She didn’t move.

  “It’s not poison,” said Sadie. “Not the worst kind, anyway.” She pulled a cigarette out, lit it from her own, and handed it to the girl. “It’ll help.” Sadie took a pull from her own cigarette.

  The girl watched her, putting the silver filter between her lips. Thin. Hungry. Been on the streets a while. She drew in a big breath, coughing. It was a hard sound in the back of a van used to syndicate luxury.

  Sadie laughed. “Yeah, first time’s always rough.” She drew on her own cigarette again.

  The girl watched her, before examining the filter of the Treasurer, silver in the van’s dimness. The girl took another puff, smaller this time, coughing anyway.

  Sadie smiled at her. “You have no idea what the hell is going on, do you?”

  The girl said something back, the babble of sound almost familiar.

  “Me neither,” said Sadie. “Look, sit tight. I’ll see what these company fucks have got us into, okay?” She stood, legs shaky, steadying herself against the van’s wall. Her head still pounded, and she took a moment before moving to the front. Haraway huddled behind Mason.

  “There’s got to be a way,” said Mason.

  “I’m not that kind of scientist,” said Haraway.

  “You know fusion reactors — Jesus!” Something bright scarred the street, Mason yanked the controls as they swerved. Sadie could see vehicles streaming past them as Mason pushed the van faster and harder. She saw a number on the HUD, 257 big, bright, and orange, watching as it ticked up to 258, then 259. It ducked down to 242 as Mason yawed around a truck, the bigger machine roaring as they blew past it.

  “Is that the speed?” said Sadie. “Tell me that’s not the speed.”

  Mason looked at her. The helmet made him look like a machine, no skin visible at all. “Can you do anything to help?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sadie, putting a little fuck no, but no way I’ll give you the satisfaction in her tone.

  “Then get in the back.” He turned to the front. “I need to lose these assholes, and I need to do it before we run out of traffic.”

  “What about Carter?” asked Haraway.

  The night flashed again, and something high in the sky flared into an orange cloud. The amber of the windshield faded back in.

  Mason laughed. “Don’t worry about Carter. Worry about the tracker in this van.”

  Sadie nodded, moving to the middle of the van. She looked around, feeling like the world was finally coming back into focus. Her head still hurt but her thoughts moved at the pace she expected. Jesus. Blood coated the wall opposite the girl. Sadie looked at the racks of weapons on the walls. No seats. She swung back to the girl. “These vans are used for two things.” Sadie pulled a rifle from the wall. “They either send a bunch of dudes to kill people, or they send a bunch of dudes to capture people.”

  The girl gabbled back.

  “That’s right,” said Sadie. “Not a comfortable bus.” She checked her weapon, then pointed it at the van’s floor. Sadie squeezed the trigger, the weapon barking loud, muzzle flash strobing bright. The floor shredded, the tarmac racing by, an ugly blur in the dark. Air howled, blasting rain into the van. Sadie’s hair billowed around her face.

  “Christ!” yelled Mason. “What the hell are you doing?” To the company man’s credit, the van didn’t crash, holding position in the traffic. Red warning lights flashed from his HUD, an alarm sounding.

  “Solving your problem.” Sadie had to raise her voice over the road noise. “They won’t be tracking us anymore.”

  “They what?”

  “The tracker. On the van,” she said. “They mount them on the underside, in the middle.”

  “How—”

  “Look, company man,” said Sadie. “Just drive the van. When someone you love more than air is taken by a company for re-education, you can think about how you’d disable their trackers and get them back.”

  Haraway looked between the two of them. “Is it gone?”

  “Carter thinks so,” said Mason. The air flashed again, the rumble of an explosion much closer this time. “She’s cleaning up.”

  Sadie tossed the gun to the floor, watching as it rattled and shook. “What next?”

  Mason glanced at her, white eyes of his helmet giving nothing away. “I need to get us lost. I know a place.”

  The girl spoke again, more gibber-jabber. She’s tough. Most people would have freaked in this situation. Freak or not, shock would come soon enough. “Mason, how about some food?”

  “You’re hungry?”

  “No, I want to puke.” Sadie jerked a thumb at the girl. “Your cargo looks like she could use a burger, though. Like, actually starving.”

  Mason left a hand on the wheel, turning to glance at the girl. “Yeah, okay.” The van slowed. “Haraway?”

  “What?”

  “You’re in charge. Where to?”

  “Well…” Haraway looked lost.

  “Okay,” said Mason. “Get comfortable. Take Bonus Round back with you.”

  “There aren’t any seats,” said Haraway.

  Mason shrugged. “See that girl on the floor?”

  “Yeah,” said Haraway.

  “See her complaining about no seats?”

  Haraway closed her mouth, pushing past Sadie as she went to the van’s rear. Bonus Round. Sadie smiled again but was sure she shouldn’t be.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “How fucked is he?” Harry swiveled, taking in the hangar. Twenty operatives, give or take. A lot of dollars-per-hour to have standing around, dicks in hand. Or, figurative dicks, because most of them were total conversions like him. Big chassis, armored agents, ready for war.

  War. A goddamn syndicate war.

  Not a lot of meat left in their shells, though. The hiss of hydraulics overlaid the whine of machinery as operatives jockeyed for position. Techs were absent, this well above their pay grade. Seeing the boss? Rare, and it needed clearance. That clearance only came with being company from your armored shell to your interior power core.

  “Hard to tell,” said Lace. Her link voice he’d know anywhere. Better than his own skin, if he still had some. “Carter says she lo
st him.”

  “Carter lost someone?”

  “That’s what she said,” said Lace, voice testy. “It’s hard to know for sure.”

  “Why?” Harry shook his arm. A fragment of metal fell from a joint. “Carter and you not seeing eye-to-eye?”

  “It’s not like that, Harry.” Carter’s voice was crystal clear on the link as her icon appeared on Harry’s overlay. “Wait a sec. I’ll be right back.” Her icon vanished.

  Lace sighed, sounding tired like the stims weren’t keeping her up like they should. “She can cut in on us.”

  Harry clanked across the hangar, moving to take position. He wanted a good spot. “I don’t get it.”

  “The link is just for you and me.”

  “With you so far.”

  “So, Harry Fuentes, how does she talk on our link?” Lace had a little fire in her voice, like if stims wouldn’t do it, she’d keep herself awake through bile and fury, but tamped down to a corporate-acceptable level.

  Harry tapped an armored toe, clank clank. “Hell if I know. You asked her?”

  “Yeah. She laughed.” Lace sighed. “She’s pretty good. It’s like she thinks it’s a game.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “Well, Harry, I don’t know,” said Lace. “It’s probably a game right up until the link gets jacked, someone hacks your core, and you blow your reactor.”

  Harry looked at the platform at the front of the hanger. A podium stood on it, an Apsel falcon gold against a black background. Gairovald liked his corporate colors. Harry looked at the others in the room, a soft hum emanating from his chassis. “He’s late.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” she said. “You want your core to blow?”

  “I don’t know.” Harry’s big metal hand rubbed the back of his head, old meat memory taking over. He stopped, looking as big metal fingers clicked open and closed, then dropped his arm to his side. “Would it stop your bitching?”

  “Your problem is you don’t appreciate artistry.”

  “Artistry? This mean you’ve worked out how Carter hacked the link?”

  She sighed again. “No.”

  “Keep working on it,” he said. “You’ll get it.”

  “Yes,” said Lace.

  “You’ll keep working on it?”

  “Maybe, but not that. Yes, in answer to your earlier question.”

  “You know I hate this game, Lace. You change the subject six goddamn times and get hurt when I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  “You asked,” she said.

  Harry replayed their conversation on the overlay, looping back the last thirty seconds. “Technically, I didn’t ask.”

  “It was implied.”

  “So, he’s running late?”

  “Is that a question?”

  Harry clenched a metal fist. Lace’s laugh came down the link. “How late is he?”

  “About five minutes. His air car landed a couple minutes ago. He should be with you about … now.”

  A door next to the podium opened, Gairovald Apsel walking through. Two men in black suits kept stride with him. Harry’s optics zoomed in on Gairovald, noting the small flower on his lapel. “Is that an orchid? It looks like an orchid, but tiny.”

  “Shhh,” said Lace. “You’ll miss the briefing. He has people to engineer his flowers.”

  Harry stopped shifting, chassis settling, a soft whine escaping as it parked.

  “Good morning,” said Gairovald, his voice coming in the real and over the link at the same time. “I’m sorry about the hour.”

  “He’s handsome,” said Lace. “Better than his photo. He can wake me up at four AM anytime.”

  Harry ignored her. Gairovald continued, “Earlier this evening, one of our operatives attempted to recover lost Federate intellectual property. This IP was stolen from us by a senior within the R&D team.” He raised a hand, to forestall questions. No one would be stupid enough to interrupt the boss, though. “A file will be supplied with all the details.” He cleared his throat, taking a sip of water someone had left on the podium. “It appears our operative was a part of the heist.”

  “What?” said Lace. “What did he just say?”

  “On your overlays are the details of the two people in question.” Gairovald showed perfect teeth. “Jennifer Haraway, recently head of Atomic Energy, and Mason Floyd, one of our senior Specialist Services agents. They are to be considered your top priority for recovery.” Gairovald straightened a cuff. Harry didn’t think it needed straightening, but he hadn’t worn a suit in a while. “Recovery, or termination.”

  “Fuck me,” said Harry. “Fuck me.”

  “He didn’t just say that, did he?” said Lace. “What does that even mean?”

  “Quiet,” said Carter. No icon accompanied her link chat this time. “The worst is still to come.”

  “The worst?” said Lace. Carter didn’t reply.

  Gairovald walked from behind the podium, standing before the operatives. Some shifted nervously, but most just idled. It was a total conversion stance that said I’m bored, what’s the bonus on this one? “Harry Fuentes.”

  Harry jerked, kindling his chassis to life. He stepped back a half meter, an agent next to him scrambling out of the way. “Watch it, asshole,” said the agent.

  “Sorry,” said Harry, then turned the PA down as it boomed across the hanger. He faced Gairovald. “Sir.”

  “You were on this evening’s mission?” Gairovald looked at one of his shoes, the shiny black leather a dark mirror, before glancing at Harry. “Mason requested your involvement?”

  “I … sir. Yes, sir.” Harry shuffled, metal feet scraping the concrete floor. “Sir, what is this about?”

  “Don’t worry, Fuentes,” said Gairovald. “You’re not under investigation.”

  “I’m not?”

  “No,” said Gairovald. “We’ve reviewed the footage, and it looks like you engaged as instructed.”

  “Sir?”

  “Floyd went into the structure?”

  “The Hole? Yes, sir.” Gairovald waited. Harry felt like he should fill the silence. “He went in through the roof.”

  Gairovald waved the comment away. “We lost contact with his link. Interference.”

  “Yeah,” said Harry. “About that. I lost him for a while too.”

  “It looks like he deployed tech to hide his movements,” said Gairovald. “Carter’s still piecing it together—”

  “Carter?” If Harry still had eyes, he would have blinked in confusion. Carter is Mason’s handler. You don’t set a handler on their own agent.

  “As I said, Carter’s still piecing it together. She has a recording of Floyd requesting you pull back. The link record is audio only, and even then it’s full of static.”

  “Yeah,” said Harry. “I got that instruction.”

  A small smile from Gairovald let Harry know he’d said the right thing. “We also have your reaction on file.” He took another sip of water. “We were wondering if we could use your … relationship in a strategic manner.”

  Harry looked at the agents around him. All optics were on him. “I’m not sure I follow, sir.”

  Gairovald nodded, taking in his unease. He raised his voice. “The rest of you can go. You have your mission. Find Haraway. Find Floyd. Remove them from the field, by any means necessary. Fuentes, please stay.”

  Operatives filed from the hangar, one or two looking at Harry as they passed. Harry waited for them to go as he spoke over the link. “Lace?”

  “Yeah.” She sounded worried. Lace is never worried. Cranky, sure. Angry for no reason? You bet. But she never gets worried. It wasn’t how she’d been forged.

  “Can you talk to Carter?”

  “Yeah,” she said. The link clicked off, leaving Harry alone with Gairovald and his guards.

  “Fuentes?”

  “Sir.”

  “Fuentes, how well do you know Mason Floyd?” Gairovald stepped down from the platform. His guards followed, a few
steps behind.

  “I don’t know,” said Harry. “I don’t play poker with him.”

  “Are you friends?”

  Harry screamed and screamed, but no sound came out. His lungs were full of fire, the lattice thrashing and flailing against the wheel. The door ripped open, a man’s hand reaching to grab what was left of Harry—

  “Not really,” said Harry. “I shot him, once.”

  “I know,” said Gairovald. “For all that, he saved your life.”

  Harry was rolled across the road, each tiny bump in the asphalt an eon of pain. The cold wet of rain washed what was left of his body. Burnt skin on his leg cracked, flaking away. Harry kept trying to scream, but there wasn’t enough of him left to make a sound.

  “I guess.” Harry looked down at his chassis. “Yeah.”

  “I think he chose you for this mission because you wouldn’t ask questions,” said Gairovald. “I think he played you.”

  “Sir?” Something cold and heavy settled where Harry’s stomach would be if he still had one.

  “He picked the one man as backup who wouldn’t second-guess him. The one man who owed him.” Gairovald walked around Harry, Harry swiveling his chassis to follow. “Do you think that’s fair?”

  “It might be,” said Harry. “Mason’s a bit of an asshole.”

  Gairovald smiled again. “Yes. Yes, I think he might be.” He continued around Harry, looking him up and down. “How is the chassis?”

  Harry paused, surprised at the question. “It’s…” He didn’t know what to say.

  “Tell him it’s amazing.” Lace’s voice was hard on the link. “Don’t think, just say it.”

  “It’s amazing,” said Harry.

  Gairovald nodded. “We did the best we could with you, Fuentes. There wasn’t much left to work with. Not after Floyd recovered you.”

  Harry stopped swiveling, leaving Gairovald to walk his quiet circuit. “Recovered. There’s a word.”

  “That’s what he did, though. After his handler sold us out. We reviewed the evidence, of course. It wasn’t clear whether Mason should have guessed his handler was a thief, so we let it slide.” Gairovald walked into Harry’s field of vision again. “We don’t let things slide twice. Do you understand?”