by Cary Caffrey
"It might be simpler for you to see for yourself."
Jones moved past him; the ground crew followed in his wake, hustling along with the stasis chamber in tow. "I hope you're not hiding anything, Mr. Tarsus. You've had months to prepare. The timing of this operation is critical. I thought I made myself clear."
"You also made it clear we were to attack the Mercenary Guild. We have the transponders. The ships and crews are ready, but somehow I'm still stuck on this rock. It's not wise to delay combat, Mr. Jones. Men tend to…lose their motivation."
"I believe your men will have plenty to occupy themselves with soon enough. But first things first. I think it's time I see what damage you and Dr. Farrington have done to my facility."
"Your facil—" Tarsus bristled at the accusation. "I brought Farrington here, just as you asked. After that, the rest is up to him. I'm no scientist, Jones, I'm a soldier, and I'm not here for your cause. If you have an issue with the timeframe or the work being done, then talk to Farrington."
Harry Jones stared at him dispassionately. "Yes, do forgive me. Your service has been exemplary. Now, where is the doctor?"
"Sleeping, most likely."
"Then I think it's time we wake him. We have work to do, Mr. Tarsus. And I'm afraid we have very little time to do it."
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Broker
October 16, 2348
"Hold still. Stop squirming."
"I think you're rather enjoying this," Suko said. She stood with her arms held out while Sigrid coiled the last of the thermite strips around her midriff. Sigrid then began the meticulous task of stitching the hundreds of tiny pinhead grenades into the seam of her bra, and more into the waistband of Suko's pants. "You sure it wouldn't be easier if I took this all off?"
Sigrid slapped her hand away; though she couldn't help but smile. "Hush! Now do keep your arms out. There, like that. This will go a lot faster if you stop moving."
"Though hardly as much fun."
"It's an old trick," Sigrid said as she fixed the last of the grenades in place. "Chesna taught me. And trust me, they'll come in handy more often than you think. Now come here."
"What? More?"
Sigrid led her over to the weapons locker. "Yes. More."
More indeed. Sigrid took care to arm Suko to the teeth. In addition to her standard issue sidearm and katana, Sigrid strapped an extra eSMG to Suko's back, slung the heavy assault rifle over her shoulder along with two bandoliers of spare ammunition. Two wrist-mounted grenade launchers completed the picture; the collapsible shotgun was an afterthought, though Sigrid still found room for it on the harness.
Suko examined herself in the mirror, testing the weight of the hefty weapons load. "It's a little bulky in the rear."
"You look fine," Sigrid said, helping to straighten her harness. "And trust me, no one's going to be looking at your backside."
While Sigrid bent to the task of collecting her own weapons, Suko collapsed heavily on the bed, kicking her feet up. Reaching into the courtesy bar, she withdrew several monstrously priced packets of peanuts, chocolates, some fizzy-drinks, four miniature bottles of vodka and some potato chips.
"You can't be serious?" Sigrid said. "For breakfast?"
"Hey! I haven't eaten since last night," Suko said over a mouthful of crisps.
"Just don't get too comfortable. I want to be on the road at first light."
"You sure about this?" Suko asked. "I mean, meeting this broker bloke? Lady Hitomi warned us about him."
"Which is precisely why I put you in that getup. I want everyone who sees us to know."
"Know what?"
Sigrid picked up the twin pearl-handled pistols from their case and slipped them into the clips at her hips. "That they better not fuck with us."
Smiling, perhaps at her rather profane choice of words, Suko rose, dusted the crumbs from her trousers, and came to stand by her. "And no one will. I promise. Now let's go. Let's go meet this broker."
With both girls properly armed and equipped, they departed the hotel. Every guest they passed leapt quickly out of their way, not daring to block the path of the pair of heavily armed freelancers. A doorman stepped to the curb to hail them a cab. Suko stared skeptically at the ramshackle vehicle that pulled up next to them. Filthy and rusted, it hardly looked roadworthy. The quad repulsors rattled and vibrated; Sigrid doubted the thing had ever been properly serviced—or cleaned, judging from the smell and layer of grime on the seats.
"Sure you don't want to wait for transportation?" Suko asked. "Leta said she'd be back soon."
"No, I want to meet this man. The sooner, the better."
Sigrid handed John Mirren's address to the driver—who handed it right back.
"Sorry. That's off my grid."
"Off your—? What do you mean? That address is right here in the city!"
The driver turned to look at them over his shoulder. "That's the Old City. That's the Broker's District. Can't take you there, miss. Dangerous."
"More dangerous than here?" Suko asked, looking about; very little of New Shēnzhèn came across as the 'good' part of town.
"Why?" Sigrid said. "How dangerous can it be?"
The driver merely raised his eyebrows in answer.
"Fine!" Sigrid said. "How much more will it cost us?"
The driver showed them the amount, nearly as much as the train ride had been from Portside.
Suko didn't look impressed. "We're not paying that! That's criminal. Sigrid, we could buy our own car for—"
"It's fine," Sigrid said, pressing her thumb to the transaction screen and watching more of her dwindling funds fly out of her account. "Just take us there. And don't worry, we're used to rough neighborhoods."
"As you like."
The driver slid the car onto the road, but his warnings and commentary of the area continued unabated; two young girls on their own were certain to get into trouble of the worst kind. He kept on until Sigrid promised him more money, if he would only stop talking and keep his eyes on the road.
Still mumbling warnings, the driver guided the taxi up onto the twisting maze of elevated freeways, moving quickly away from the city center, leaving the crush of industry and humanity behind.
"Where are you going?" Sigrid asked, pointing to the address. "I thought this was in the city?"
The driver chuckled. "Told you. Broker's District—that's in the Old City. Nothing between here and there. Not no more. Toxic. Got to go around."
Sigrid sighed. "How far?"
The driver looked back at her; Sigrid caught the glimmer of a smirk on his lips. "Like I said. Got to go around. The long way around."
"Fine," Sigrid said, knowing this was certain to cost her even more. "Just…drive."
"Toxic?" Suko asked.
"Toxic," the driver confirmed.
The meaning of the statement became abundantly clear. The area they were passing through had seen little development. The driver explained in rather scathing terms how the land here was far too contaminated to build on. Companies had surface-mined the entire region, excavating for tens of thousands of hectares. And when they'd stripped the ground clean of all it had to offer, they'd left, abandoning the area and moving on to the next square on their grid.
Nothing could survive here. Not anymore. None of the companies had thought to clean up after themselves. A thick layer of red dust clung to the toxic sludge and resins that lingered in the soil. The sea of spent chemicals was not the only thing they'd left behind either. Sigrid spied the piles of broken equipment stacked at the sides of the freeway. Hundreds of excavating machines lay abandoned, their bucket-wheels towering nearly one hundred meters high, left to rust in the very spots where they broke down.
"Lovely," Suko observed.
For nearly an hour they drove on. Gradually, the wasteland gave way to population again. The toxic expanse was left behind, and they came back around to what was the Old City, the Brokers' District. The driver slowed and pulled over. He would go no f
urther. He left the two girls at the side of the road and headed speedily away.
It was eerily silent here. There was no other traffic, no pedestrians. No people at all, Sigrid realized. The Old City appeared completely abandoned. The scatterings of buildings left standing looked dark, their windows broken or boarded up. Some buildings showed signs of neglect; others had collapsed completely, leaving only crumbling piles of debris to spill out from their lots. If any industry or commerce existed in this part of New Shēnzhèn, Sigrid couldn't see it.
"How current is this address?" Suko asked.
Sigrid wasn't sure. Lady Hitomi had not seen this man for quite some time.
"Well, let's not stand around here wondering," Suko said. "I don't want to stay here any longer than we have to."
Walking quickly, scanning carefully, the two girls headed deeper into the sea of hollowed and crumbling structures. Sigrid couldn't escape the feeling they were being watched. It was foolish, and she knew it. Her scans picked up little, and she could detect no signs of the previous occupants. She was ready to give up her search for the information broker, convinced the district was completely abandoned, when she saw them.
There were people here. Children.
They were filthy, wretched things. They wore only scraps of clothing and scurried amongst the buildings like rats. Sigrid could only catch the briefest glimpses of them. There were others, as well. Older ones, teenagers. Though they did not move nearly so fast, not as spry as their younger siblings. Starved and sallow, these children lay huddled in groups, tucked in alleys and under the shredded remains of awnings.
They were sick, poisoned by the drugs they consumed to the point of toxicity. Even from across the street, Sigrid could sense the narcotics coursing through their systems. It was a hybrid derivative of synthophedrines and hydrogen iodide, cheap and simple to manufacture. In Geneva the children had called it Quix, but it was known by other names as well.
Suko took her by the arm. "Come on. We've still got to find this broker."
Sigrid looked back, helpless. There was nothing she could do for these creatures. Walking at Suko's side, she allowed herself to be led along. Things got better as they ventured deeper into the district. There were more people here, even some ground traffic. Some of the buildings had power, and a few shops were open for business, though most of the business took place on the streets between the drug peddlers and flesh dealers.
"What kind of business did Hitomi say this man was into?" Suko asked.
"Information," Sigrid answered. Though she was starting to doubt it. Hitomi had indeed said amongst other things. Perhaps this is what her mistress had meant.
They turned a corner. If John Mirren were here, this was where she would find him. A raucous crowd had gathered nearby, merchants and customers alike. Drugs were bought and sold openly, consumed where they were purchased. Armed gangs trolled the street. Fires burned everywhere, in any receptacle that might serve as a brazier. Several food vendors had set up their carts, but seeing their offerings, Sigrid turned quickly away, her hand held over her mouth.
There was an almost festivelike atmosphere, but it was wild and dangerous, teetering on the edge between control and chaos.
A young girl approached a group of boys dealing on the corner. Her hair was matted, the zipper on her pink plastic jacket was broken, held closed with stickpins. She was bargaining with the boys, hopeful for a gift of the drug. The boys merely laughed, as if finding her pathetic state a great source of amusement, her attempt at bartering even more outrageous. Sigrid watched as they taunted her, pushing her back and forth between them. One of them suggested she get down on her knees and service him. The girl complied.
Sigrid knew bullies when she saw them. She could take no more.
"Leave her be."
The boy had the girl by her hair, her matted locks held in his fist. But seeing Sigrid, he threw her aside. She stumbled and fell to the ground, skinning her hands and knees.
Sigrid moved to help her, only to find herself encircled by the thugs. And when she tried to move past, they shifted, blocking her way once more. Hooting, they catcalled to her. Sigrid heard the boasts of their sexual prowess, along with pledges of some unlikely acts the boys intended to perform with her.
The leader stepped toward her, standing close enough that her nose was practically in his chest. Slowly, Sigrid looked up at him.
"You're in my way," Sigrid said.
"Unfortunate," the boy said. He reached down, his hand flirting with the waistband of his trousers and the large handgun thrust there.
"Um…" Suko raised a warning finger, "I really wouldn't do that."
"Oh, and why's that—Ah-ahh…" The boy winced at the sharp pain, though to his credit, he didn't cry out. "Are you crazy!"
Sigrid had him by the arm, twisting it around his back, her other hand clamped on his neck. All of the gang boys had their weapons out, small pistols, low-gauge rifles, even knives held out and thrust her way.
"Tell your men to back off," Sigrid said. "Do it now."
"Oh, you are so dead."
"We don't want any trouble. We're only here to see the information broker."
"The broker?"
"Yes. Perhaps you've heard of him? John Mirren?"
"Course! Everyone knows the broker—ahhh…"
Sigrid shoved him away; his gang of thugs caught him, helping him to stand.
"Then take us to him."
Still massaging his bruised wrist, the boy glared back at her. "No one sees the broker. No one."
"Oh?" Suko started toward him. "I think he'll see us."
Sigrid's improved sensors caught the surge in adrenaline, the intention, the threat, even before the boy had contemplated reaching for his weapon.
"Don't…" Sigrid warned. "Please—there's no need for this to end badly."
Mistaking her warning for a plea, the boy smiled, the wide grin forming on his lips. He opened his mouth and laughed. "Please! Don't." The smile vanished in an instant, and he glared at her. "Seriously, you gotta be kidding."
He drew quickly, pulling the heavy pistol from his waistband and thrusting the muzzle into Sigrid's face, his knuckle white on the trigger, squeezing.
The katana flashed in Suko's hand, raised high over her head. She brought the blade down hard, cutting directly between Sigrid and the boy, not an inch from her face. The hand-folded steel cleaved the barrel of the heavy sidearm clean off, the tip of the boy's finger along with it. He collapsed to his knees, too stunned to scream or cry out. Blood dripped from the stub of his severed finger, still on the trigger.
For the briefest moment there was silence. Merchants and people on the street nearby turned to look. The gang of boys seemed uncertain as to what to do, staring at their leader still on his knees.
"You…What the…You cut off my fucking finger!"
Suko stood over him, the smallest drop of blood dripping from the blade of the katana. "I was aiming lower."
Wild with rage, the boy glared back at his men. "What the fuck—kill them!"
The silence was shattered in an instant; all of the boys fired at once. All of them too late.
Sigrid knew this gang of thugs might intimidate the locals, but they were hooligans, ruffians, not trained soldiers. To her and Suko they were harmless, more a danger to themselves than anyone else. They were children and in need of being taught a good lesson.
Sigrid spun low, taking out the legs of one boy. Off balance, falling, his shots missed her, felling two of his own comrades Four of their friends promptly dropped their weapons and fled in a panic, bolting for the safety of the nearest open shop door. Sigrid let them go.
This was kitten play, and Sigrid knew it. She cartwheeled out of the way of another volley, snatching the weapon from the hands of the shooter. A second boy ran at her, knife raised, screaming his battle cry. Sigrid's boot found his sternum, launching him into the street to collide with a food cart, sending both people and condiments flying.
Only one
of the boys remained. Sigrid turned toward him. His pistol shook in his trembling hand. Her sensors registered the pressure on the trigger, her PCM instantly calculating the trajectory of the projectiles. She only had to lean over a few inches to avoid the spree of flechettes that whistled passed her shoulder.
Sigrid raised a warning finger. "You get one do-over. That was it."
But the boy wasn't listening. He pulled the trigger, over and over, but the emptied clip produced only a desperate clicking.
Sigrid holstered her own weapons and fixed him with a scolding look as a mother might an unruly child. He hadn't learned. Sigrid knew they would never learn. None of them. She knelt beside him. The boy's bravado was long gone; he was afraid, terrified. With a finger placed beneath his chin, Sigrid closed his mouth. He offered no resistance as she relieved him of his weapon. The pistol was rusted and ancient; Sigrid crushed it in her fist before handing it back to him.
"Wha-what the fuck are you?"
"I'm a girl," Sigrid said. "I'm just a girl."
"Please—don't kill me."
She found him pathetic, just another bully preying on the weak. But without his friends, his weapons, he was a scared little boy.
"No, I won't kill you," Sigrid said. She turned to look back at the street girl; terrified and trembling, she huddled against the wall. Her nose was running, and she wiped it on the back of her pink plastic sleeve. "But if you ever touch this girl again, or any of them, I will kill you. Do you believe me?"
The boy nodded in earnest. Suko hefted him to his feet, helping him down the street with a boot to his backside.
With the gang boys taken care of, Sigrid went to the girl and helped her to sit up. She was a frail thing, painfully thin. Blood ran from a cut on her cheek where one of the boys had smacked her. But that was merely one bruise, one scrape where there were many. When Sigrid tried to use the med-kit to clean and stitch the wound, the girl pulled away, trembling fearfully. Sigrid hushed her, brushing her hair back, telling her it would be all right, until the girl calmed enough for her to treat her. The wound would heal, but Sigrid knew that wasn't the problem. This place would be the death of her, and there was nothing she could do.