by Joshua Klein
Chow heard the hiss and grimaced, but did not turn around.
They entered the main hall and saw eight of the punks disappear around the same statue they had seen Feed by.
"Hurry!" said Chow, breaking into a trot. The two soldiers overtook him, looking down at him in pained anxiety.
"Go!" said Chow, then breaking into Chinese he gave them open license to do what was necessary to take Feed alive and to prevent his capture by the Triads. They broke into fluid trots, then a flat-out run as they rounded the corner and out of sight.
"Carry me" said Chow to Poulpe. "And don't drop me this time."
Poulpe was tired of this. He was the mastermind behind this coup, had arranged everything since he'd first met Feed and sensed the potential there. He was not destined to answer to little, arrogant, public officials.
"To hell with you" said Poulpe, wetting his lips slightly with the tip of his tongue as he savored the taste of the words.
"Do it or I send you back to Disney" said Chow. He was through with being nice; it was time the Frenchman knew who was in charge and what the consequences for failure were. Poulpe didn't smile. His dreamy eyes narrowed. Chow had been doing his homework, he was disappointed to discover. He had learned somehow about the training Poulpe had received, about the conditioning he himself had designed for Disney to use with its top engineers. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny tin.
"What are you doing? Pick me up! We are falling behind!" said Chow.
"I need focus, Monsieur" said Poulpe. He was having a difficult time making himself do this. He could feel from the distant clench in his chest that as soon as he did he wouldn't be having any fun anymore. He was having a lot of fun right now, was really, really enjoying the slightly orgasmic chills running across the hairs of his arms, the tender pull of his calves under the support straps of the suit. He pulled out a plain white pill from the tin and gently set it on his tongue. Chow watched as he closed his mouth, chewed once, and swallowed. His pupils abruptly tightened to pinheads, as sharply as if he'd walked out of a cave and looked at the sun.
"As you ordered, sir" he said, scooping Chow up off his feet. He broke into an awkward run, the suit picking up the pace and turning it into a rapid glide as they went. Chow hung on, startled, his arms around Poulpe's neck. The stale antiseptic smell of the Frenchman's sweat swirled around them and they hurried down the corridor, the other two soldiers turning and running out of view at the other end. There were screams and an explosion. The comm on Poulpe's shoulder hissed to life, a gurgle of Chinese followed by several words that were sharply cut off. The sound of machine-gun fire rattled against the walls and down the hall towards them.
The room beyond was another antechamber, a huge sculpture of a man in traditional bamboo armor standing on a dais at its center. Bodies littered the room, punks splayed out in bloody repose. The body of one of the soldiers was prone on the floor, a long filet knife somehow woven between the protective plates of his suit and buried in his neck. The remaining soldier was firing at an archway extending off to their left, and he nodded quickly at Chow as they stepped into the room. He pointed once at the comm mounted to his chest, drawing attention to the single bullet hole there.
"Nice shooting" gasped Poulpe, the drugs making him heave for breath despite the suit. The soldier waved at them and held up one finger before pointing at the archway. He jogged up to the wall next to it and waited, watching Chow for orders. Next to and over his head a row of terminals showed a set of three trains pulled up next to their platforms in the room beyond, the empty lot in front of the train station, the water-filled front room. The sound of shouting came from the room beyond, then a tearing metal sound. The shouting dimmed.
"Go!" barked Chow, pointing at the doorway. The soldier stepped out and around the corner, pressing his back up against the other side of the wall. Poulpe stepped forward before they saw the center of the man's torso explode, the wall blowing back towards them, splattering the floor with gore.
"Merde" shouted Poulpe, scrambling backwards, reaching to scoop the blood from his eyes. He started to hop up and down, his adrenal gland in overdrive, unable to hear in the echo of the explosion.
"Let me go! Let me go!" screamed Chow. He produced a gun from somewhere and snapped the butt hard against the side of Poulpe's nose, breaking it cleanly. The Frenchman released the Chinaman, dropping him to his feet as he struggled to see.
"Now. Go!" said Chow, pointing at the archway.
"To hell with you" said Poulpe, his fingers feeling the light grind of broken bone that he'd certainly feel most keenly later. He spat bloody phlegm at the smaller man's feet.
Chow bared his teeth and glared up at the Frenchman. He didn't need this right now. He needed obedience, he needed service. The sound of breaking glass rang out from the train tracks and they could hear the punk's whooping yells echoing from inside somewhere.
"You will cover me" Chow said. "And we will discuss later." He turned and checked his pistol before peering once, quickly, around the corner. Poulpe paused long enough to pull the semiautomatic rifle from the first soldier's belt, then jogged up behind Chow.
There was no one to see. The door to the first car on the second train had been ripped open with a crowbar, the windows along its near side shattered. As they watched they heard more windows breaking further down the train, out of sight.
"There!" said Chow, his pistol flashing as he shot down the near platform.
"What?" asked Poulpe. "What are you shooting at?" The dark gap between the near train and the wall was barely three feet wide, lined with electrified cables and rails and razor wire to prevent the homeless from sleeping there.
"I saw a someone" said Chow. He was jerking his gun straight-armed in front of him, left-right, left-right.
"You are nervous, Mr. Chow" said Poulpe. He flipped the safety off his own gun, considering his options. He wondered if Chow had reestablished contact with his data center, if his death would trigger a recording of audio or visual data.
Chow quieted, taking in their position, the lines of fire.
"What now?" asked Poulpe.
"The Fatchan are pursuing Feed now. They will not kill him" said Chow. "We have superior firepower, and additional assistance should be arriving shortly. We will wait for them to capture him and bring him out, then kill them and take him with us."
Poulpe grinned.
Chapter 62
The sound of breaking windows was getting closer. The man across from Feed had unfolded his head from between his knees and was staring out the window and the dark tunnel beyond, the very picture of ennui. Feed pulled out of the data streams, listening.
"What the hell are they saying" he muttered to himself, the punk's chants getting louder. The door to the car they were in suddenly shuttered.
"Barbarian" said the man, his hands folded demurely in his lap. "They are chanting for the head of the barbarian."
Feed stared at him for one long second before the door to the car was pulled open, a red-eyed Chinese youth with a row of three green mowhawk stripes leading the charge. He had Feed's helmet in one hand, the top scuffed and speckled with green paint from the walls and doors he'd been bashing with it.
They only glanced briefly at the man in the suit, grabbing Feed and pocketing his gun, cries of venomous joy as they pulled his hands behind his back. The lead punk pushed Feed's head back against the wall, grabbing his jaw and forcing his mouth open by jabbing his fingers against Feed's cheeks. He stabbed a long flexible swab down Feed's throat and the punks fell silent.
The green-striped punk lowered the swab into a silvery tube connected to a tiny display. Everyone held their breath. The tube chirped and he shook his head, sadly eyeing Feed. They all sighed, issuing sad moans as they dropped him roughly back into his seat.
The man in the suit politely asked a question and the lead punk replied in kind. He said a few words, gesturing excitedly towards the track outside, and the punks immediately perked up. Nodded excite
dly at the man in the suit they took up their hollering again, running out the exit door and back down the platform towards the main building. The train grew quiet behind them.
"What did you say?" asked Feed, breathless.
"I told them the foreigner they were looking for was black" said the man, nodding happily at Feed. Feed stared at him again, then grinned out of one corner of his mouth.
"What's your name?" he asked.
"Li" said the man in the suit. "Please call me Li."
Feed's fingers fluttered against his thighs, data streams flowing again.
"You want to go for a train ride, Mr. Li?"
Chow wasn't getting any response from his comm, not even from the encrypted military lines. Something was jamming him, but he couldn't leave the building to find out who or how. He didn't have time to ponder the issue as the punks came bouncing jauntily down the platform towards them, their loud whoops echoing ahead of them.
"Please prepare, Mr. Poulpe" said Chow. Poulpe raised an eyebrow. He was positively bored stiff. Wearing military armor and all was certainly exciting, but it wasn't much use if all you did was stand around. The suit was made for close-quarters killing, something he had yet to do.
The punks rounded the end of the near train and stopped as they saw Chow and Poulpe. The lead punk had Feed's helmet slung over his shoulder and dropped his arm as he saw them, the helmet now held in front of his crotch in awkward unease. He said a few words to Chow, nodding and bobbing. The rest took up the gesture, blinking back sudden tears towards the barrel of Poulpe's gun.
"What are they saying?" asked Poulpe.
Chow said several words forcibly in Chinese and the boys looked even more distraught, glancing at each other with comical frowns. The lead boy turned back to Chow and shook his head, saying a few words before Chow interrupted him with more demands. This time the boys looked the very picture of desperation, clutching their heads and glancing back and forth at each other in mutual agony.
"What?" demanded Poulpe. "What's going on?"
"They said the barbarian wasn't in there, that the foreigner they were looking for is black" said Chow. "Feed tricked them. But this okay good, we can use them… "
Poulpe interrupted him by firing the gun's entire clip into the crowd of young men, the jerking bodies bouncing under the impact, laying silent and smoking when he was done.
"What..?" gaped Chow. "What did you do that for?"
"They were stupid" said Poulpe. "You said so yourself." He felt better now. He'd been wanting to do that for a long time, and had found it rather gratifying.
The train began to pull out.
"The train! The train!" called Chow. "Quickly!"
Poulpe nodded and calmly followed Mr. Chow in stepping through the sea of bodies and across the platform. He had to break into a slight jog to catch up with the last car, then stepped in and casually tossed the semiautomatic out behind him. It was empty anyway, and he didn't have any more clips. Things were looking up.
"I think your friend is getting upset" said Li, pointing out the window at the door to the engine cab ahead of them.
"I know" said Fed, looking out the other window through his goggles. "He'll get over it."
Outside Esco had been tapping at the keypad lock for a good five minutes, trying to stealthily get into the train so he could drive off with it. Cessus hadn't been able to access the controls remotely and neither had any of the Otaku, so it was a big surprise to him when the train suddenly began to lift and then slide forward.
He was surprised, but not stupid. Despite operating in radio silence Esco knew more than to try to cling to the outside of an accelerating maglev as it was heading out of the station. Instead he let go and carefully shuffled back and out of the tunnel entrance, leaning low as the cars silently swam past. It disappeared down the tunnel and out of sight.
Esco sighed and pulled himself up onto the platform. He was wearing a black combat suit, nylon webbing holding an assortment of gear, his face blacked out with charcoal.
"Very pretty" said a deep voice from the end of the platform. "You dress up just for me?"
Esco nodded a greeting to Marcus and stepped over the steaming bodies at the end of the platform. He slumped down on the passenger side of the golf cart Marcus was driving, avoiding the crutches slung between the seats.
"Nice ride" he commented wearily. "Damn fool locked me out."
"He's just like his brother" said Marcus as he drove the cart down a corridor and towards a service entrance in the back of the building. "Always doing shit his own way."
They drove in silence for a few hundred yards, Esco wiping the stain from his face and accounting for his gear.
"Got two of them" he said. "Pulled off a twenty-yard shot on one of them, took out his comm with my pistol until they were all together, then lured him out in front of a wall mine. Idiots did it exactly by the book, just like Tonx said they would."
Marcus nodded. "Lucky for you. Those boys got good intel, if nothing else."
Esco grunted agreement. "You heard from them? I've had radio silence since just after they first saw Chow."
"Nothing" said Marcus. "I haven't heard anything from anyone."
Esco looked at Marcus out of the corner of his eye, then looked the other way, watching the tiles slowly slip by under the tire's thick tread. "They'll be okay" he said.
Marcus grunted, a meaningless sound. "Listen, you ready to relax?"
"Hell yes" said Esco. "Been in China almost a week already and haven't seen anything but train stations and shipyards."
"Good. I know this nice private club, members-only kind of place. Normally it's women only, though."
Esco pursed his lips, nodding solemnly. "I think I can deal with that" he said.
Marcus returned the nod. "All right, then. You like that style, the one where they dress up like Chinese school girls?"
Esco turned and gave Marcus a broad wolfish grin before the two men broke into deep, howling laughter.
Chapter 63
The maglev picked up speed, the tunnel giving way to the pre-dawn city, high cement walls cradling the train interspersed with plexiglassed view ports as they made their way out towards the country. The air howled dimly in the car behind them, a high-pitched whine as the wind tore through the ragged glass of the broken windows.
Eventually Chow's balding head appeared, thin black hair swimming in a bolus around his brow. Even then he managed to appear calm and in control, stepping through the doorway holding his pistol in front of him as though it were a tobacco pipe, and him just wandering into his study. Poulpe came behind him, little bits of white cotton fluff sprinkled across his arms and legs, splattered brown stains from dried blood slicked over the clothing beneath his military exoskeleton. He saw Feed and reached up one long, metal-wrapped arm to pull back his hair as he bowed, slightly, in Feed's direction.
"We meet at last, Mr. Feed" said Chow, glancing briefly at the man in the suit who sat slumped, motionless, against the window opposite them. "Who is he?"
"Some salary man with a death wish" said Fed. He stuck out his little finger and put his thumb towards his mouth, miming drinking from a bottle.
Mr. Chow shrugged. "No matter." He gently lowered himself across from Feed. "We will speak English. You are coming with us, Mr. Feed. It is my hope that you will do so willingly. It has been very expensive, finding you."
Feed watched Chow for a moment, trying to get some information from the smooth blank gaze the Chinaman gave him. He turned to Poulpe.
"What are you getting out of this, Poulpe?" Feed asked the Frenchman.
"Oh, the usual" said Poulpe, smiling. "Defection privileges; diplomatic immunity, political asylum, protection and safe passage. I have a new employer now, you see, one of the few who can protect me from the old one."
"Traitor" said Fede flatly.
"Yes I am" said Poulpe. "And if you're a clever boy you will be too."
There was a sudden hissing sound as the car behind them release
d from theirs and slowed, trailing away behind as they picked up speed.
Feed turned back to Chow. "You are Harry Chow?"
Chow bowed slightly. "Yes. You have written a very impressive virus, Feed. It took me a long time to figure out how to use it once we'd seen it start."
"You have the recombinant genome from its first run. Seeing it complete its results must have helped."
Chow smiled then, a broad grin that revealed unnaturally even teeth.
"I was surprised when you did not determine this immediately" he said.
"In the heat of the moment one misses the simplest things" said Fed.
"I would like to learn more about this code" said Chow. He was warming to his subject now, his hands spread wide in front of him in a gesture of generosity. "We have used it a little, but I think there must be a way to limit its use of its hosts. If we could throttle its resource load it may be possible to keep it deployed publicly. China is a big place, and it seems only correct to use its resources as effectively as possible."
"You would like to use your country's computers as a giant distributed network" said Fed.
"Yes" said Chow. "But the people will not stand for this without price cuts. They are already very frustrated with the filtering and controls. Your virus was very stealthy, and I must believe it can be made to alter itself according to the abilities of the host."
Fede nodded. "Sure. But it would take a long time to change it. And I won't help you."
Chow's smile disappeared. Poulpe coughed.
"Please reconsider, Feed" Poulpe said. "The Chinese use strong motivational tactics. It would be a shame for your friends to suffer because of your obstinance."
Fede cocked his head, staring at Poulpe in sudden realization.
"You relaunched the code, didn't you?" he asked.
Poulpe glanced at Chow, back at Feed. "We have found other uses for it, yes" he said. "But that is not your concern… "