by Corey Ostman
The sun was setting outside, the sky streaming with deep reds and yellows. Martin enjoyed watching the sun go down. It made him feel like everything could change. Day and night.
Martin reached for his holster, strapping it on as he headed out the door.
• • •
The concierge rose from his seat and bowed his head politely. “How may I assist you, Protector Randgarten?”
Martin brought his right hand to his holster and adjusted it, maneuvering his backup phasewave to a more comfortable position. Martin observed, with satisfaction, that the concierge stared at the weapon, too.
“I’m here to assist Dr. Williamson in Science Section Eight.”
“Just a moment sir, while I check.” The concierge reached for the display, but Martin gently held the man’s wrist.
“You needn’t bother. I know where to find him.”
The concierge reclined in his chair. He was probably glad not to have another petty work request. Martin nodded amiably and continued through the ITB atrium toward the main lift bank.
Breaking the rules felt good.
Now, he needed to concentrate on two people: first, Dr. Williamson. Tim had been able to retrieve the doctor’s name before walling off access to ITB. Then Wilmer. Call notification had him right in there with Chanho.
Martin entered the lift.
“Science Section Eight,” he said in a loud, clear voice. His credentials transferred, and the lift headed four floors down. This is it.
The door opened to a spartan lobby. It looked nothing like his memory of the place. It had been over two years since he had come here with any regularity. Gone was the clutter of active research. Most of the scientists had gone, their machines with them.
A pair of technicians in red coats crossed the lobby. They looked lifeless to Martin. He remembered the energy of the old days, when techs would run up and down the hall, giddy with discovery. Especially during the evening shift, when everyone was high on coffee.
The techs entered a room, closing the door. A few moments later, another tech exited a lab, and Martin motioned for him to stop.
“Sir! I need to find Dr. Williamson,” Martin said, hoping his voice was deep and commanding.
The tech jumped. He was a tall, well-built man, but apparently had problems with protectors. He stammered incoherent sounds, and pointed toward a pair of double doors down the hallway.
Beyond the double doors, Martin found an older man behind a desk. He started to get up, but Martin waved him to sit.
“Dr. Williamson? Protector Randgarten. I’m here to assist Protector Wilmer. Will you please tell me where to find him?”
“Not again,” the man grumbled, shifting in his seat. “What did you want?”
“I’m here to assist Protector Wilmer. Where is he?”
Martin hoped it was simple irritation on the doctor’s face and not rising suspicion.
“Dammit, I’m busy here. Can you ask a—”
“Sorry, sir. It’s an emergency,” Martin interrupted. “I need to find Protector Wilmer. Will you help me, or should I contact Protector Van Decker?”
Martin thought he saw a flicker of fear.
“Now, now,” Williamson said. “That won’t be necessary. He’s in Isolation Five. Can you please leave now?”
“Thank you, sir,” Martin said, giving him a tip of the cap. “And please, remember Protector Van Decker has ordered communication silence at all times.”
Instead of waiting for a reply, Martin turned and headed out the door. He hated doing that, but it was Maud’s style. Protectors in the old ITB didn’t give orders and expect everybody to fall in line. How easily they had adapted to her power posturing.
Martin glanced at the display map on the wall. There were eight isolation suites marked in red. Only one registered as occupied. Could it be that easy? Martin continued down the hall and entered unit five.
Two technicians ceased speaking at the sound of Martin’s entrance. They were near the monitor by the door, and blocked most of his view. But Martin could see Wilmer farther in, his back to the door, hands on his hips. This had to be the room. He stepped inside.
The technicians watched him questioningly.
“Protector business. Take a half-hour break, please.”
Wilmer jumped at Martin’s words. The two technicians tidied their tools and left the room.
“Martin, are you okay? What are you doing here?” Wilmer looked confused, crossing the room toward him.
“I’m fine, Darrel.”
Martin looked around. Behind a glass wall to the left was a thin young man with a shock of dark curls, his swarthy skin a sickly green in the harsh light. He was restrained, his eyes closed. Raj Chanho.
“Maud thought I might help extract information,” Martin continued.
Wilmer shrugged. “You can try. He hasn’t said a thing.”
Martin smiled and patted the front pocket of his overcoat. “I’ve got something here that will make him talk.” Glancing around, Martin motioned to the access port in the wall. “Can I get to him through there?”
“Yes,” Wilmer began. “It’s tagged to me. Let me call Maud and authorize—”
Martin put his left arm around Wilmer’s shoulder and slammed his right fist into Wilmer’s jaw. The protector slumped to the deck.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Martin, placing Wilmer’s limp palm on the access port.
“Grace says hello,” Martin said, slipping through the door.
Raj’s eyes snapped open. “Grace! She made it out of surgery? How did she look? Did you see her arms?”
Arms? “We’ve got to get out of here. Keep quiet and follow my lead.”
Raj nodded and followed him without question. Martin dragged Wilmer’s body into the isolation unit and sealed the access port. He stepped behind Raj. “This might hurt,” he said, grabbing Raj’s arms and restraining them.
“If you want to use force, concentrate on my left. Much higher threshold on that arm.”
“Uh, sure.” Mechflesh. Figures. Martin took Raj by the left arm and headed out the door, closing it behind them.
“March, Chanho!” Martin commanded aloud.
They headed toward the lift bank. With each step, Martin felt like ITB was finally on the mend.
Chapter 33
Grace’s heart raced as she looked at the pulse gun. The metarm dove under the skin of her right forearm, presumably anchored to her bones. Another gleaming piece of metal encircled her wrist and provided a pivot for aiming. She remembered her revulsion to Raj’s mechflesh hand, but looking at her own implant was somehow different. She couldn’t feel the metarm as a foreign object: it was more like an image of a weapon projected onto her body.
Raj had obviously cherished it: the metarm was smooth to the touch and showed no sign of neglect, just honest wear. It was disconcerting to have an implant, but comforting to have a weapon again. As she practiced aiming the gun, she recalled many sessions of target practice with her father. They hadn’t the time since her training at Red Fox. She wondered if she’d be as fast with this weapon as she had been with Ronnie.
She named the pulse gun Daddy, for luck.
About an hour into her practice, her ptenda lit up with the briefest of messages. The one she was waiting for.
“She’s home,” Grace said, reading Martin’s message aloud.
“What about Raj?” Tim asked.
“Martin’s going to scoop up Raj at ITB,” she said. “Assuming they haven’t moved Raj since Martin got the room number. I’m going to stay nearby and cover his escape. Then I’ll pay a visit to Maud—”
The expression on Tim’s face made her stop short. She marveled that she’d recognize human feelings playing out on a dog’s face.
“Don’t go, Grace,” he said in his usual voice, yet it sounded more like pleading. “Let Martin extract Raj and then we can lay low.”
“No way, doggy. Maud’s illegal activities at ITB have to be exposed. Look what they did
to Raj. And what happened to Rendilon Gobi. Flora.” Grace’s voice cracked. “Look what they did to me,” she said, pointing at the medical pod.
“You should wait until Raj is back,” Tim said, but his head drooped.
“I’m going,” she said firmly.
Grace headed out of the loft, closing the door and hoping the PodPooch stayed behind, as agreed. Tim had told her that only Raj’s brothers knew about the loft, so he would be safe.
The night air refreshed her as she left the building. She’d been in one medical pod or another for too long. The loft was comfortable, but it lacked windows. Her legs felt stiff. She decided to run toward ITB. After her experience at the blind bang, Grace remained on alert as she passed people and movers on the street.
Halfway there, she realized what she was wearing. Orange and red? They screamed target. She located a clothing shop with her ptenda and purchased a simple black mimic. Her new clothes partially concealed Daddy under a long sleeve.
• • •
Martin escorted Chanho by the arm as they walked from the lift. He’d released the restraints, but the inventor kept his arms folded behind his back. Martin’s next move would be to check in with the concierge and exit the building. They would get a transport for Bod Town and contact Grace with an all clear.
Instead, Martin saw Maud walking toward him. His body tensed and he involuntarily gasped, but his mind raced ahead.
“Chanho, when I tap you on the back, run toward the redhead in black. Straight toward her,” he whispered. “Then, when I yell ‘freeze,’ spin around and take the lift. Don’t stop no matter what.” He avoided telling Chanho that it was Maud. It would only frighten him.
The inventor started to stammer. No! Martin tapped him on the back, hard, pressing a tracking dot into Chanho’s shirt.
Martin was relieved when he started running toward Maud.
“Chanho!” shouted Martin, raising his phasewave and aiming ostensibly at the inventor, though more at Maud. “Freeze!”
As if they had practiced it, Chanho turned in the opposite direction and Martin unleashed his phasewave. Martin saw Raj’s curly hair fly to one side as the static bolt swept past.
• • •
Randgarten’s blast hit just to her right. Maud tumbled in the opposite direction, stunned but still conscious. That man has been a hotel manager for too long, she thought angrily.
Maud fingered her ptenda, cancelling the blind bang that would automatically be called by a weapons discharge in ITB. She watched Chanho disappear behind lift doors. Shaft Three. Maud put the building on lockdown. She would take care of this herself.
“Van Decker, are you alright?” Randgarten stood over her, offering a hand.
“What the hell is going on here, Randgarten?”
The phasewave had left her queasy. She rose unsteadily, squeezing Randgarten’s hand harder than she needed.
“Chanho attacked Wilmer and attempted an escape,” Randgarten said. “I was in the lobby.”
Maud rubbed the sides of her head, trying to ease the disorientation.
“He’s headed up the lift,” Randgarten said unnecessarily.
• • •
Grace waited until the lift doors closed on Martin and Maud. She walked over to the revolving door and gave it a hard push. Nothing happened. The door was locked.
“Think, Grace,” she whispered to herself. She raised her ptenda. There would be a floorplan in her manual.
“Problem?” came a voice from behind.
She spun. Tim! She thought about getting angry, but there wasn’t time.
“Yeah, I’ve got a problem. The building is in lockdown.”
Tim walked over to the wall of glass, inspecting it with his nose.
“I can help,” he said, “but you’d better stand back.”
Chapter 34
A series of color patterns swirled around the PodPooch’s body. The controls to the lift came back online.
“Mind if I call it magic?” Grace asked.
“I have several cloned ptenda codes. Sensitive personnel deep inside ITB,” Tim said. “Keep your enemies closer, you know.”
A lift door opened. Grace stopped covering the street entrance. No one had seemed willing to cross the sand of the shattered doorway.
“Any idea where Raj is?” Grace said as they entered the lift.
Another color display from Tim. “Somebody just tried to enter the sky bridge on nine,” he said. “I’m not picking up the send from Raj’s grafty, though.”
Grace knew the building had an extensive stair network in case of evacuation. She decided on the tenth floor, to get a better look.
• • •
The lift opened and Raj sprang. Nobody was in the hallway. Two quick right turns took him to the sky bridge, an interconnecting walkway linking ITB with Wyoming Compstate Bancorp. He could make it back to the street and disappear into Bod Town, just like he had with Grace. It will work, he told himself. It will work.
He slammed face first into the glass door, feeling his nose crunch as he bounced off and landed on the floor.
It was supposed to slide open. And then, belatedly, Ouch. Raj raised his head. Blood streamed from his nose, bright red on the blue carpet. His forehead throbbed. Up, he told himself. They’re chasing me.
Raj blindly reached for purchase to stand, and toppled into a nearby handcart.
• • •
Maud exited the lift, Randgarten close behind. She glanced at her ptenda. An internal security sweep confirmed Chanho was on this level. They proceeded down the hallway toward the sky bridge. She drew her weapon, and Martin echoed her. She hoped he remembered how to aim this time.
A gurgling, moaning sound came from ahead. Chanho sat propped against the wall, blood covering his face. So easy, she thought.
“We’ve got to call medical,” Randgarten said, kneeling next to Chanho.
Maud shook her head. “Step aside, Randgarten.”
Maud squatted in front of Chanho, grabbing him by the collar. She didn’t care that she was in a hallway. She didn’t care that Randgarten was here, or even if he called compstate. He could be paid off. Hell, even compstate could be paid off. What mattered was that she finally had the bastard who had leaked Hopper and led her on a wild chase after the liquid computer. It should have been hers already. And now that he was in pain, she was certain she would finally get it.
“Ready to talk, Chanho?” She smiled at him. “I loved the sample you left in my office. Now I want the rest.”
He grimaced and shook his head.
“I know it’s more than a liquid computer. We saw the neural activity.”
He looked away. She slapped him hard across the face. Chanho howled in pain.
“Pay attention. I want to meet your artificial man.”
“AIs should be available to everybody,” Chanho whimpered.
“We’d better get him some help,” Randgarten interrupted. But Maud saw that he had holstered his phasewave. She ignored him.
“No, Chanho,” she said, turning back to her prey, “AIs shouldn’t be for everybody. Mechflesh is freakish enough. Can you imagine a world of AIs? Not on Earth!”
Maud picked up Chanho and slammed him onto the handcart by the door. She unlocked the sky bridge doors and pushed him into the cool air outside.
“What are you doing, Maud?” Randgarten again.
“I’m earning my pay, Randgarten. We need some fresh air. Would you like that, Chanho?”
She maneuvered the cart toward the railing, and pushed Chanho’s body so his head hung over the edge. He struggled to crawl back, but Maud held him firm.
“Tell me everything, Chanho, or I’ll just push you out a little farther.”
• • •
Grace reached the tenth floor observation deck just as Maud pushed Raj’s body over the edge of the bridge.
“Tim!” she shrieked.
“I see it. Stand back, Grace.”
A phasewave pulse dissolved the window to san
d.
• • •
A popping sound directly above Maud, and then a hiss as gritty rain fell around them. She looked at her shoulder, dusting some of it off. Sand? She blinked it out of her eyes and looked up, trying to find the source.
A woman, standing on the window frame.
“Maud!”
Maud’s jaw clenched. Donner.
Chanho shifted. She turned to find Randgarten helping him back from the edge. She snarled, pulling her phasewave from its holster. She pressed it against Randgarten’s head.
“Back. Off,” she said. Then, louder, “Hear that, Donner? Back off, or I’ll kill both of them!”
“You’re insane, Maud,” Randgarten hissed. “It’s over. You back off.”
With her left hand, Maud grabbed Chanho around the neck. “Last chance, Chanho. Tell me where the prototype is, or you’re going over.” The inventor writhed in her grip.
Maud felt pain hit her right shoulder as the sound of a pulse gun reverberated in the space between the buildings. She released Chanho, her arm too weak to hold him, and looked up at the report of gunfire. She had been in combat many times since Red Fox. Instead of worry or panic, Maud felt tranquil. She stared at Donner and smiled.
She squeezed her trigger and Randgarten’s head and upper torso exploded, splattering against the bridge and building.
“Martin!” An anguished cry.
“Drop the gun, Donner! It’s Chanho next.”
For a moment, something obscured Maud’s view of the other woman. It took Maud a few moments to realize it was a dog. A dog, hurtling toward the sky bridge, shimmering along the way. It landed behind Randgarten’s corpse, opened its mouth, and panted. The tongue was blue.
A dog? A dog! Maud almost laughed.
“Thank you, Chanho,” she snarled as she raced toward the AI. It stood still, its mimic coat morphing and shivering.
No one stopped her. As she leaned to grab the dog’s collar, its mouth moved. She wasn’t really surprised, but she didn’t care about being bitten. The pulse wound in her right shoulder hurt far worse than a dog bite.