by Terry Brooks
Ash continues to stare. He doesn’t know which way to jump, but if the consequences are as serious as Jenny Cruz suggests, he needs to be sure about his choice. He takes a moment to consider.
“So what you want me to do must be pretty dangerous.”
Jenny nods. “If we are caught, it is likely we will be terminated. You understand by now how ’tweeners are looked at. The authorities would find it more convenient to be rid of us. Especially if Achilles Pod becomes involved.”
He nods. “But you run that risk by hiding me too.”
“Risks are part of life. Some are more worth taking than others. We’ve all had close calls. We all understand how quickly our lives can be snuffed out. We accept that for the same reasons you will—for a home and a sense of belonging. Now you have to make a choice. Stay and work with us, or walk away.”
What Ash understands is that whatever he chooses to do, he will be placing himself in danger. Whichever way he jumps, he could be found and killed. But taking his chances at Street Freaks feels smarter than going out on his own. He takes instant stock of his situation—no home, no family, no credits, and no recognizable future. It occurs to him in that moment that he could end up like his father and that the only way to find out why this has happened is to agree to Jenny’s offer.
“I’ll stay,” he says. “I’ll work with you.”
“Good for you, Ash.” Jenny’s smile is genuine. The other kids are smiling too. “Now listen up.”
- 16 -
Jenny leans forward in her chair.
“This is what else we do a Street Freaks, Ash—the part you don’t know about. We break into corporate offices, hack into computers, and generally mess around with whatever we find. Sometimes we remove funds and put them elsewhere. Sometimes we siphon off information. Sometimes we sabotage or delete select files within a network. Sometimes we go in and destroy everything we can. We operate anonymously. We choose our targets carefully. We don’t take unnecessary risks. We don’t do more than needs doing. ”
She pauses. “Much of what we do can be done without ever leaving the office. Hacking can disrupt just as thoroughly, if not more, as a physical intrusion. And it is less risky. But frequently online security is very good while on-site protections are weak. And in many instances, we decide that to carry out the sort of sabotage we think is necessary, we have to go into the computers directly. We vet our targets very carefully before deciding which way to go.
Ash gives her a look. “So you’re thieves,” he says.
“Nope. Corporate saboteurs. Stealing is the least of our offenses. Breaking and entering, grand theft, felony property damage, and corporate espionage could be added on. The law is pretty clear. But many corporations are rapacious and greedy, and it would be a mistake to feel badly for them. The ones we go after are so corrupt they can’t afford to report what’s happened after we’re finished with them because they don’t want the authorities poking around in their business accounts.”
T.J. smirks. “Besides, it’s not like anyone gets hurt.”
Jenny gives him a look. “T.J. thinks it’s all fun and games. It isn’t. I meant what I said before. If we get caught, things will be bad for all of us. So we spend a lot of time preparing. We have our assigned tasks, our special skills, and our jobs to do. We keep each other on track and focused. We do not take chances, and we never leave anyone behind.”
Ash has not heard anything that persuades him this is a good idea.
“Of course, we make a lot of money,” Jenny continues. “Corporate espionage is extremely lucrative. We could make a lot more if we gave in to temptation and diverted a larger amount of what we take to ourselves, but that sort of behavior has a tendency to catch up to you in the end. Besides, our goal is not to enrich ourselves; it is to punish those who do and to funnel their corporate gains back to the larger population of the U.T.”
Ash is not so naive that he doesn’t understand the predatory nature of many corporations or the way they make their money off the backs of the people of the U.T. Many are corrupt and engage in illegal practices, hiding behind size and obfuscation. Many deserve whatever they get. But it diminishes his friends to think of them as thieves, whatever their motives.
Still, he will have to learn to live with his discomfort if he wants their help. He must become one of them, and when he does, he will be as guilty as they are. That is the plan, of course. To tar him with the same brush.
“How do you keep all this from the Shoe?” he asks. “Doesn’t he suspect anything?”
T.J. breaks into a raucous peal of laughter. “Oh, that’s really funny! That wins the clueless prize!”
“Shut up, T.J.!” Jenny snaps. She shakes her head, looks back at Ash. “We don’t keep anything from the Shoe. We don’t have to. He runs the whole operation.”
Ash sees it instantly. This is where all the money comes from to fund Street Freaks, while at the same time the business provides the perfect cover for the Shoe’s more illicit activities. This is exactly why he is the ringleader. He knows everyone, moves easily among the rich and successful, does business with corporations and corporate officers, and . . .
He catches himself abruptly. He sees the rest of it now. “That’s why you’re all here, isn’t it?” he says. “That’s why he brought you to Street Freaks. To steal for him. He chooses the targets. He makes the plans, and you carry them out!”
Jenny nods. “That’s why you’re still here, Ash.” There is an edge to her voice. “The Shoe thinks you might prove a valuable addition to our business. We think so too.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” He throws it off without thinking.
“Don’t belittle it, Ash!” Holly snaps angrily. “What we do gives us food and clothing and a place to call home. The Shoe took us off the streets and out of the labs and experimental hospitals and brought us here. He gave us a life! He keeps us safe. He protects us.”
She says it with such passion that it causes Ash to back off immediately. Of course they would feel this way. Why shouldn’t they? No one else wanted them. Only the Shoe. A little corporate espionage and theft isn’t much of a price to pay for a decent life.
“So, is that what you were planning for me all along?” he asks. “To help you steal stuff?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Holly snaps. “I brought you here to help you find your father and to keep the Razor Boys from cutting you into little pieces.”
“But when we heard you talk about your memory, we were all thinking that maybe you could help us if you decided to stay on,” Jenny adds. “You told us yourself you have a photographic memory. There are times when hacking into computers and downloading files would reveal that an unauthorized entry had been made. Sometimes we don’t want that to happen. Think how much easier it would make things if you can read the pages, memorize them, and then, once safely back at Street Freaks, reproduce them.”
“Any problem with that?” T.J. leans forward, his eyes narrowed. “You as good as you claim, Ash? Or maybe just half as good? Any limitation on how much you can remember?”
Ash shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’ve never tested myself. But once I study something, I can pretty much remember all of it afterward.”
Maybe, he thinks, he can sabotage their efforts, and by doing so keep some measure of self-respect. But he abandons the idea almost immediately. Playing games like that could get him tossed back out on the street or worse. Besides, he wouldn’t think much of himself if he did so. These kids are helping him, after all. They’ve taken him in. They’ve put themselves at risk for him. How ungrateful would he be to suddenly turn on them? He cannot afford to start casting aspersions and making judgments on the only people who have stood up for him.
How honest was his father in his dealings with BioGen anyway? He doesn’t know the whole of it yet, but when the truth is revealed, he has a feeling it won’t be as bright and shining as he once thought.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ll help you.”
�
�That’s all we ask,” Jenny assures him. “But we’ll need to find out how good you are. We’ll do that tonight.”
“Tonight?” he repeats in surprise.
“A plan is already in place. You’re the final piece. We go into Narwhal Systems at midnight. This is a company that has been diverting profits to foreign banks for years while reporting diminished returns in falsified annual reports to its shareholders. They’ve very good at covering it all up; audits have revealed nothing. Tonight, all that changes. T.J., see that Ash gets a full briefing on how this works. Provide him with a blackout sheath and night lenses. I have work to do.”
“Wait!” Ash isn’t finished. “What about the Shoe?”
Jenny looks confused. “What about him?”
“Well, have you talked to him about this? About me? What if he doesn’t like the idea of you asking me to join up?”
T.J. snickers. “Yeah, Jenny, what if he doesn’t like it?”
Jenny’s glare silences him. “Look, I know you have questions, but let’s leave them for later. Don’t worry about the Shoe. I’ll handle him. If you prove yourself, he’ll be happy enough to let you stay.”
She gets up and leaves. As Ash watches her go, T.J. leans forward from the other side of the table, his familiar smirk in place. “Here’s the thing. The Shoe is the owner of Street Freaks. He’s our boss. But it’s Jenny Cruz who really runs things.”
After the others have followed Jenny out, T.J. begins his explanation of what will happen tonight. Ash will go with Jenny, Holly, and himself. Woodrow, because of his age and physical limitations, will stay behind. They will use a specially designed vehicle to reach Narwhal’s main offices. T.J. will stand guard while Holly breaks into the computer room, Jenny will hack into the files and locate the approximately twelve pages of documents they need to access, and Ash will memorize all twelve. The content is comprised of words with a few simple drawings added. It is important they don’t attempt to transfer or copy the information. Even photography doesn’t work with the new flashback computer screens that just leave you with a whiteout image. These computers would reveal any effort to penetrate their security protocols, and this particular theft needs to be kept secret.
“We have been searching for a way around Narwhal’s protections for some time, but we’ve had no success. Jenny wants to see if you can do what you claim. This will be a test to determine if you are ready for larger things. If you fail the test, you’re probably out on your ear. If you succeed, maybe you have a future with us.”
No beating around the bush, Ash thinks. Tonight will determine if he stays or goes. It puts pressure on him in still another way. He is already uncertain about whether this is something he can live with, but now matters have moved well beyond worrying about that.
His explanation finished, T.J. leads Ash from the dining room to the mysterious door that sits under the stairway, the one through which the others have disappeared several times. It is both surprising and somewhat anticlimactic when he discovers it opens into a closet filled with cleaning supplies.
“Just wait,” T.J. says, glancing over his shoulder with a sly look.
The closet is ribbed with dozens of narrow strips of cedar paneling. T.J. chooses several to press against at various places in what appears to be a random sequence. As he does, a portion of the floor slides away to reveal a set of steps leading down into a lighted cellar. Because the stairs twist within a covered well, he cannot see what lies below. T.J. starts down, beckoning him to follow.
When they get to the bottom of the stairs, Ash stares in surprise. The cellar is a huge, cavernous chamber hollowed out beneath the Street Freaks compound and reinforced with steel supports. There are no windows. Corelights are embedded in the ceiling at regular intervals. Workbenches are scattered about, sets of tools hang from pegged supports off the walls, and piles of scrap metal and automobile parts are heaped everywhere. Various machines for fabricating dominate the room, huge beasts that have purposes Ash can only guess at. There is a single lift for hoisting vehicles, but it is recessed into the floor and nothing sits on it.
“This is what Achilles Pod would really like to find,” T.J. says. “The only ways in or out of this room are through the supply closet we just used and by an underground tunnel that leads to an abandoned warehouse five hundred yards down the block. We own that too. We use the tunnel for the vehicles. Street Freaks is equipped with devices that conceal this room from the detectors the police use to uncover hidden spaces, so they can’t register that there’s anything down here but dirt.”
“So this is the real reason why hiding me is so dangerous,” Ash says. “Achilles Pod might find out what’s down here if they keep searching for me. ’Cause they won’t stop, will they?”
“We can live with it. They haven’t found out anything yet. Besides, that’s not the only reason keeping you here is dangerous. You can be a problem all on your own.” T.J. points to the far end of the room. “Tell me what you see.”
Ash looks where T.J. is pointing, past the Barrier Ram AV parked to one side, back into the farthest corner where, ringed by spotlights that illuminate it from all sides, is a vehicle the likes of which Ash has never seen. It is boxy and ribbed with metal plates that overlap one another like scales. They are flat black in color with no reflective qualities at all. In fact, as Ash takes a closer look, there is no part of the vehicle that does not seem to absorb the light. Metal, glass, tires, and composites—nothing reflects. It looks like an ATV with street machine aspirations. Even as cumbersome and ugly as it seems, it has a dangerous, predatory appearance.
Ash shakes his head. “What is that thing?”
T.J. gestures. “I’ll show you.”
He walks over to a bank of switches and snaps several off. Instantly, the spotlights at the far end of the chamber go dark and the vehicle disappears. Ash tries hard to pick it out, crouched back there in the darkness, but even knowing it is there, he cannot see a thing.
“That, my friend, is the Onyx,” T.J. says, coming back over to join him. “It was designed and built at Street Freaks, and it is the only one of its kind. It is a stealth machine, intended to pass within twenty feet of the human eye without being seen. Admittedly, the technology for rendering it invisible came from another source. It was intended as concealment plating for U.T. assault vehicles, but we sort of borrowed it for our own uses. Spotlights need to be focused directly on it for anyone to notice it in the darkness. Otherwise, it can pass right by you and you won’t even notice.”
“But wouldn’t streetlights . . .”
“Not bright enough,” T.J. interrupts immediately. “Not unless you park right under one. Even then, it wouldn’t be distinct. You need direct light, and lots of it, to get a close look at her. She’s not much good in the daylight, but we do most of our work when everyone else is sleeping. We’ll be taking her out tonight. Come over here.”
He directs Ash to a set of double doors set into a wall. A row of black sheaths hangs inside. He rummages about for a minute and then pulls one out. “This should be about your size. Try it on.”
Ash takes it and looks around for a place to change. “In there,” T.J. says, gesturing. “Use the door that says ‘men.’” He smirks.
Ash goes inside. A long wooden bench fronts a row of lockers. He sees T.J.’s name on one of them. He opens a second, finds it empty, and claims it. He strips and pulls on the black sheath. It fits him perfectly, its stretching abilities allowing it to mold to his body. It covers him from his ankles to his neck. There is a hood as well. He pulls it on, and nothing remains of his face, just patches of mesh fabric covering his eyes and mouth.
Barefoot, he walks back out. T.J. is waiting and hands him a pair of black Forms. Forms are high-end footwear, and like the sheath to his body, they mold perfectly to his feet. The soles are slightly thicker than the rest of the shoe but allow him to move easily and comfortably after he slips them on. He knows about these shoes. Forms are made of a synthetic developed by the company that
manufactures them. They are incredibly resistant to damage of any kind. These are very, very expensive shoes.
“We always wear blackout sheaths and Forms on a job,” T.J. says. “They’re warm, comfortable, and make it difficult to spot us. We sort of disappear. Like the Onyx. Does everything fit?”
Ash nods, testing the flexibility of his outfit one more time.
“Then they’re yours. Here, take these.” He hands Ash a pair of smoky-lensed goggles. “For night vision. Helps you see in the dark. You’ll need them later. We still have several hours before we head out.”
Ash changes back into his regular clothes, and they go upstairs again. The time passes quickly. Ash might have been tempted to dwell further on what he has learned about Street Freaks, but the other kids don’t give him a chance. They rope him into playing a game where they wager exorbitant numbers of credits they apparently don’t have and then spend most of their time ribbing one another about how inept they are at the game. It involves dice and a playing board with numbers, and Ash is in debt to all of them almost before the game begins. Their laughter is infectious, and soon he is laughing with them. He really is awful at this game, but he doesn’t care. He feels a kinship to these kids, a welcome sense of being brought into the fold and made a part of their family. He knows he will be tested tonight. He knows they have not yet fully embraced him. But it doesn’t feel that way, and that’s good enough for him. It’s what he needs right now. He doesn’t want to think about his father and BioGen. He doesn’t want to ponder an immune deficiency condition that might not be real. He doesn’t want to worry about what he is going to do later or consider the consequences of what it will mean to his life.
He wants this stupid game and the laughter and the feeling of belonging. He wants to be one of them.
Even if he knows he is mostly just pretending.
When it is time to go, he is ready. Leaving Woodrow behind, the rest of them file into the closet and down the hidden stairs to the underground chamber. They separate into their assigned dressing rooms to change and emerge ten minutes later clothed in black. Even Jenny Cruz wears a blackout sheath ribbed with the familiar tubing and equipped with a built-in unit for washing her blood.