Archon's Queen

by Matthew S. Cox

  When Anna left the bathroom, dressed, the girl was seated in the kitchenette, munching on some of the cereal Anna brought home the night before. She poured herself a bowl and sat next to her. They chewed in silence for a while.

  “Nice trousers,” said Faye.

  Anna pushed the spoon through her bowl “Got tired of givin’ everyone a show whenever I moved.”

  “They have these things called panties…” Faye grinned.

  “Haven’t had the readies to waste on them.”

  “So nick a pack.”

  Anna swatted at her. “Not the way to think.”

  Spawny yelled from across the hall. “What for, you’re starkers more than dressed anyway.”

  The lights flickered. Faye stared up.

  “Oh, hell, it’s only been two weeks!” shouted Spawny. “Bastards are getting quick.”

  Faye stirred her cereal. “You don’t look so good.”

  Anna shrank into her seat. “I’m on the rattles.”

  “They had this cheesy presentation at school about drugs. Bunch of fat wankers in suits think they know what’s good for us.”

  “Twee…” Anna reached over the table to hold her hand.

  “Don’t call me that. I’m not five.”

  “Sorry. When I first started taking it, I thought I could control it. I couldn’t. It got me. I used to live with Pen in a nice place in town, had a car even. Money, all the clothes I could want.”

  “You sound just like those fat bastards.”

  “I’m serious, Faye. Look at me. I’m a bloody mess. Two years ago, I was practically wealthy, now I have to show my tits to eat.”

  The girl rolled her eyes. “And you don’t want me ending up like you.”

  “Dammit, Faye.” Anna’s shout startled her. “You don’t belong here. I’ve already thrown my life away and I don’t want to watch you do the same thing.”

  “Why’d you get started then if it’s such a bad thing?”

  “Work.” Anna’s mind raced for a plausible lie. “I had to sneak inta some place posing as a zoom-head. Wound up getting the fake patch mixed with a live one. Once was all it took and I was trapped.”

  Faye looked at the half-eaten cereal. “I can’t face them. They think I’m a liar.”

  “I could talk―”

  “No!” Faye covered her reddening face. “I hate them.”

  “I understand…” Telepaths cheat. “Right when you needed them most, they weren’t there for you.”

  Redness swept over the girl’s face.

  Anna drew a breath to speak, but hesitated when Spawny traipsed in, Penny in tow.

  “Cripes, Anna,” said Penny. “What the devil.”

  “She’s on the rattles,” muttered Faye.

  “No shit.” Spawny looked her over. “Fink ya lost more weight too.”

  “Really?” Penny grinned. “You’re trying to quit?”

  “Yeah,” moaned Anna, running a hand over her face into her hair. “It’s gonna suck.”

  “Zoomers go nuts after about three days. Guess we’ll have to tie you to your bed for a while.” Spawny winked. “Clothing optional.”

  Faye glared at him.

  The lights faltered again.

  He looked at the ceiling. “Tap must be loose.”

  “No, I just don’t really want to be helpless around you.” Anna winked.

  “What, I’m not enough for ya?” Penny smacked him with her purse.

  “Just teasin’.” He cringed, in playful defense. “Hey, Pix, we’re goin skimmin’, wana come with?”

  Anna thought about it. She did not want to get caught up in that, but it would be easier to get through the checkpoint in a group, and it might keep her mind off zoom.

  “Faye you gonna be okay for a bit?”

  She scoffed. “I’m thirteen, not three.”

  The maglev orbital circled London proper, crossing the Thames twice on its route. Anna sat at the rearmost part of the rearmost car, jostling about with the motion of the tram. Despite the lack of contact with the rail, a scintillating charge swept down her body each time the car slipped over a seam in the track; the spaces between magnetic fields slid through her stomach. The conversations flooding the confined space drilled into her head: a rotten boss, a lousy breakfast, some Frictionless fans upset at a referee. A pair of nineteen-year-olds four rows ahead tried to give each other hand jobs without anyone noticing. He kept a straight face, but the girl couldn’t help squeaking.

  Sweat tickled its way down Anna’s chest in threads as a woman’s distant laugh pummeled her skull like a hyperactive woodpecker. Anyone looking at her would think she had a fever: bleary unfocused eyes, red face, sweating, delirious. With nothing to do, she did not waste the energy trying to keep up outward appearances.

  Kicking zoom was a rotten idea.

  Spawny draped himself over the bench between her and Penny, tinkering with a little electronic device in the pocket of his imitation denim coat. He held the fabric to conceal it from view and fiddled with knobs on the side to adjust its transmitter range and sensitivity. Penny had one as well, but she was less fickle about the tuning. He babbled under his breath as he worked, mangling some old nursery rhyme with a forced Cockney accent that made it incomprehensible, even to people used to it.

  Heavy as stone, Anna’s eyelids drooped. The thing in the back of her mind spun like a tiny cartoon Tasmanian devil, whirling about in search of anything it could use to get out. Her momentary calm trapped it for the moment. Great amounts of power in the car below unfurled into her view as shimmering amber pipes lit by brighter pulses. The ephemeral light crept along the presence of electrical wirepaths in the sidewalls; lines traced themselves out as smears of yellow-orange, holograms in the brain. Her mind played with it, an old atrophied muscle flexing and releasing. Redirecting existing power was less tiring, and far more deadly than pulling it out of thin air. She pressed her back to the wall wearing an expression most would mistake for an orgasm. For a brief moment, the power brought a sense of confidence and safety she had not known in years.

  Her head sagged to the left, staring into Spawny’s pocket at the handful of light flakes dancing in his hand. Energy inside his machine glowed intense around the power source: a two by one inch rectangle known as an e-mag. That moniker rolled off the tongue easier than Meissner Cell, though some old-schoolers still called them that. Developed initially by the military for use in energy-based weapons, the ubiquitous super-batteries had infiltrated many aspects of civilian life as well. No reputable company produced skimmers―these were Spawny specials. Bare wires soldered to the contacts of the e-mag sparked and seethed.

  Anna stared at it, her memory flashing back to a dark hallway and a man in a dark coat. She’d jammed an e-mag into his throat, and she forced it to discharge all of its power at once. The man’s head had vaporized.

  “You all right?”

  Glimmering amber threads faded at the sound of Penny’s voice and the hand shaking her listless arm.

  Anna squinted. The window-light framing Penny’s face burned her eyes. “Yeah, fine. Just a… bad memory. I need a feckin’ zoomie.”

  Penny reached over Spawny and grabbed her by the lapels, shaking her. “Look at me, Anna. You do not need a zoomer. I’m here for you.”

  “We’re boaf ‘ere for ya, luv.” Spawny ruffled her hair as though she were his kid sister.

  “Thanks. Kinnel, this sucks.” Anna doubled over, arms through her gut. “I shouldn’t have eaten.”

  “Bollocks, girl. You’re a twig.”

  “We’re gonna take a stroll. Yell if you need us,” said Spawny.

  “You sure that’s wise?”

  “She’ll be fine, Pen. We’re just goin’ up and back.”

  Anna’s arms fell slack on the seat as her friends got up and walked into the crowd. Gentle rocking of the tram taking a curve caused her to slip back into her semi-awake daze. Her eyes jumped between small diaphanous blobs of power manifesting from people they passed, flyi
ng into Spawny’s pocket or Penny’s purse.

  That’s twisted. I’ve never seen EM before.

  They were skimming.

  Sometimes, the glop of energy leapt out of the back of a hand where an ImDent chip lurked.

  The skimmers simulated merchant readers, siphoning off credits in small amounts from every device they got in range of. The amount randomized from one ping to the next, the software would not tap the same source twice in less than a month. Most people didn’t notice. Even if they looked at a statement, the odds were good they would overlook it since the transactions stayed small and appeared to be something common like coffee, a snack, or a surcharge.

  Her friends reached the end of the car, the tiny acknowledgement chirps of NetMini’s lost amid the din of the cabin and layers of clothing. A cyan retaining field at the end of the cabin dissipated, popping like a film of soapy water as Penny hit the button. They advanced to the next car.

  Anna lay like a corpse for a few minutes until the feeling of being alone and vulnerable in a box full of men gave her the wherewithal to stand up. No one had made a move, much to her surprise; perhaps the pants worked.

  She lurched in pursuit of Penny and Spawny, falling into the standee posts in series to forestall an intimate meeting with the floor. A few people asked her if she was all right, another new feeling. Anna offered pleasant smiles and claimed a bit of fever, which made them lean away and nod. Their affect was absent the usual derision; most seemed fearful of becoming sick.

  At the end of the car, she smacked the wall a few times in a disorganized attempt to find the button to sap the field. A nearby businessman watched her fumble for several minutes until he seemed more uncomfortable by her proximity than bothering himself with another’s problem. He reached forward. She tensed, expecting his hand to go for her ass, but he pressed the button for her. After a thankful nod, which almost sent her spilling into his lap, she wobbled through the opening. Her friends worked three cars down. Anna searched through the aches and pains for the ability to move faster.

  There would have to be something done about that before tonight. Her arms moved with the hesitance of a rubber figurine with stiff wires for bones. The job required more flexibility than a piece of jerked beef for her to be of any use to the client or keep herself alive. Anna grunted from the impact with a metal pole she failed to see. Her hands clasped it out of reflex; she clung to gather her balance as well as her thoughts. The maglev went into a gentle rightward turn that spun her around the standee post. If not for the number of people packed in there, the motion would have flung her to the floor.

  More zoom would make her feel better without delay, but it would dull her abilities and set her back. Then again, that had been the whole point of starting it. It was rather effective at keeping her electrokinesis from running away with her emotion, but it also made it a chore to call on when she wanted to. To do what Mr. Carroll was willing to pay her to do, she would need to be able to find the little monster in her head. If she were to return to his employ as a matter of routine, she would need to make friends with it―and that meant staying clean.

  No… Zoom’s right out. Maybe I’ll take up yoga or tai chi.

  Pulling herself to her feet, she thought about visiting a clinic and buying a pacifier. Those autoinjectors could ease the withdrawal, but they ran about a thousand credits. Little more than weakened narcotics, they dulled reaction time almost as bad as the zoom itself. The only differences were the lack of hallucinations and a shorter high. The pacifier was supposed to be non-addictive, but that was a lorry full of codswallop. Anna stopped, staring through the window at the passing grey city, wondering why the illegal drug was a hundred credits but the path to freedom cost a thousand. She lost track of how often Old Bill had let her skate with the supposed contraband.

  Bloody government’s in on it.

  Five doors later, she caught up to her friends. They stopped halfway through the car, facing away from the forward end to duck the gaze of a pair of constables by the door. The Filth’s body armor had hardware capable of detecting a skimmer if they got too close, but it would look suspicious if Spawny saw police and retreated.

  He eyed the cops via their reflection in the window. “They’re watchin’ us. Hey you two lock lips, give ‘em somethin’ to really stare at.”

  “Do you want to see my lunch again that badly? She’s like my sister.”

  Penny grabbed her, kissing her on the lips before whispering. “Do you want your sister in jail for ten years?”

  It could have been the motion of the tram or a fragile stomach already upset from her body’s demand for zoom. The thought of crossing tongues with a woman somewhere between sister and surrogate mum was the last straw that caused the taste of her lunch to burble in the back of her throat. She tried to steel herself, focusing on the thought of Penny getting carted off for skimming. Her mind retreated behind a curtain of logic―do this or Penny goes to jail. Blake had rented her to both men and women, and she forced the thought of who she was with out of her mind and let Penny lead. Spawny behaved as if he was filming them, muttering like a director, holding the skimmer up as though it were a camera.

  You cheeky bastard.

  In a few minutes, the Met lost interest and went forward through the tram.

  Anna let her head fall onto Penny’s shoulder. “I should have skipped the pickles.”

  Penny patted her on the back and said soothing things. Holographic adverts slid through the maglev’s windows, accented by the occasional bot brave enough to fly up alongside in an effort to gain the attention of a passenger. By the time they slid into the next station, Anna had gotten a firm grip on her food. They disembarked, eager to avoid the police, but Spawny could not help himself and walked a skim past the people waiting to board the train.

  “Oi!” A man shouted.

  Spawny ducked the hand reaching for his shoulder, evading the grip of a seven-footer in a heavy black trenchcoat emblazoned with the silver outline of a cross down his entire back, filled with thorns and roses. He squealed when two more men in similar coats, though not as tall, spun about and growled.

  He took off at a full sprint, the rubberized soles of his shoes squeaking on the metal of the maglev platform. Penny ran after him, down the switchback stairs to the street level.

  A flash of adrenaline chased away some of the knots in her muscles; Anna brought up the rear, moving like a parking lot extra from a bad holo-vid about zombies. Penny caught up to him and grabbed his hand, running together ahead of the three Crossmen who pursued without a word.

  The chase spanned the length of two blocks before an ill-chosen left turn stranded them in a dead end alley, among stinking hulks of restaurant trash compactors. Spawny skidded to a halt at the bricked over fence at the end, grabbing Penny by the hips and hauling her up. The widest of the Crossmen checked him into the barrier, smashing the air from his lungs and sending him sliding to the ground.

  Penny’s grip failed, and she fell into the waiting arms of the seven-foot man. He threw her like a slab of meat into the grip of his mate, who stepped back with the flailing woman held fast.

  “So friend, you fink you kin skim the Crossmen, eh?” He drove a massive boot into Spawny’s side, flipping him over onto his back. “I’m gonna beat seven shades of shite out of ya. Hope you got a box ta put yer hampsteads in when I’m done with ya.”

  Spawny howled, lurching to his feet and punching the huge man straight in the jowls. Beard shadow bunched up over his fist, hardly moving the skull behind it. The attack made the huge shaven-headed Crossman grin wider.

  “Not bad, mate. My turn.” With that, he slugged the stunned man in the face, bouncing his skull off the wall.

  Spawny fell with the grace of a limp noodle to the pavement.

  “Stop, please don’t kill him!” Penny kicked and thrashed, pleading. “You can take it all, just don’t kill him.”

  “Damn right we’re gonna take it all, right after we’re done with yer little toy-boy.�
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  Anna stopped a few meters back, her arrival splashed audible through the puddled ground. Three soft pops came out of the darkness to the left, followed by an inexplicable spout of water from a pothole as if someone had dropped a rock into it.

  The tall ganger paused, shook his head, blinked, and continued kicking Spawny in the gut. Penny took advantage of the momentary disorientation of the Crossmen cornering her and tried to run. He snapped out of it and shoved her back to the street. The third man spun towards the sound of the splash and spotted her.

  “Looks like we got a bonus, mates. This one’s worth a squirt as well.”

  Anna, mesmerized by the distant rattle of a metal ladder, did not react as his arms circled around her chest, squeezing her paralyzed. It felt unreal, like a dream. The withdrawal had gone from hypersensitivity to numbness, she knew she could not move her arms or walk away from where she was held. The exact reason of why dangled over her conscious mind like a treat held out of the reach of a dog.

  She stared at the hands clasped together over her stomach without recognition of what they were or that they had anything to do with her immobility.

  “Yearrrgh.” Spawny howled, leaping up with a series of rapid punches to the big man’s groin.

  The tower doubled over, wheezing. Taking the opening, Spawny kicked him in the face and bloodied his nose. Like a rabid Chihuahua, the wiry man leapt and dove at the one holding Penny.

  He shrugged over Penny, giving Spawny his back and all but ignored the barrage. When he’d had enough, he flung Penny face-first into the metal wall of a Greek café. She wobbled to the ground as the Crossman grabbed Spawny by the jacket and held him up over his head before driving him chest-first into the wet pavement.

  Barely able to breathe, Spawny rolled onto his side in time to catch the sole of a boot in the stomach.

  Anna became aware of a rough hand squeezing her right breast. With solid pants on, her nether bits seemed too difficult a target for a quick feel. The one holding her had slipped his mitt up under her shirt and worked her tit like a lump of dough.