Chapter Eight: Short Burst
“You're not alone.”
I whirled at the strange voice. By strange I mean calm but digitally augmented.
“You are Madrid Faraday,” I said. “Where are Mishan and Morones?”
“Pardon him, Madrid. I'm Aaran Coates, and he's Buddy Namiki,” Aaran patted my shoulder and greeted the broad shouldered, formally attired male. “You're safe.”
“We are safe. Mishan and Morones are in emergency care. Representative Castlegar has no confidence in Felynx, I gather.” He shook Aaran's hand and stared at her uncommon grip.
“You could say that, but it wouldn't be nice. Or correct.”
“So you are augmented.”
“Pretty bald-faced aren't you? I suppose that's good for a translator. Let's step over here where we might not get shot. Get down!”
Upon ducking, I heard the report of a ballistic rifle ricochet in front of us. We scrambled behind a plasteel wall inside an empty food vending shop. A second shot struck the wall but did not penetrate. Aaran made the sign to open a three way transmission stream.
[Why did Castlegar send a bodyguard on a routine trip to the Decade Chamber?] Aaran demanded.
[It was not a routine trip,] Madrid responded blandly. [I will explain later.]
[No, you'll tell me what you know. Buddy will find our shooter. He's immune to bullets.]
[That was lazily worded.]
[Shut up. Go, Buddy!]
I had already determined the last location of the shooter with a handy routine provided by my Father, but knew the individual would have moved to get a better angle. Fortunately Aaran had anticipated this and minimized our exposure. The best tactic would be change methods, so I prepared for melee combat.
Understanding that the assassin may be employing visual cloaking, I increased my audio sensitivity. In addition to the occasional rustling of Aaran's clothes, the cyborg's motors and their breathing, I identified a third body. The individual was nestled behind an abandoned shipment of partially unpacked product.
In a voice that was definitely female, she cursed.
Her head turned, and immediately the rifle followed, snapping up and firing on reflex. The bullet struck my shoulder, leaving a hole in my jacket, but doing no damage to my endoskeletal structure. The weaponsfire caused her suit to de-cloak automatically, after which it would require manual activation. I decided she could not have that chance.
From her movements I estimated that she was pure flesh and blood, so when I rushed her, I made an attempt to unbalance her by grabbing for the rifle. This was a feint, which I substituted quickly for a leg sweep. She was agile, but the advantage was overwhelmingly mine.
It was over quickly. By grabbing one leg and one arm and pulling them behind her, I was able to flip her over to prevent any accidental injury or deliberate retaliation. Aaran pulled a couple of ties from the bag over her shoulder and used them to bind the would-be assassin's limbs. Madrid watched from a distance.
“You are the one who shot Mishan,” he declared.
Aaran pulled the mask up over her head. “C'mon. You're not a professional. You got caught. Or was this your first job?”
“Wasn't prepared for the wirecutter.”
“You were cloaked. Don't feed me shards. Anyway, not my problem. Tell me why you shot my girl.”
Her eyes narrowed, but I had the impression from her heart rate that she was suppressing an emotional reaction.
“That meant something to you,” I stated for her benefit.
“She dead?”
Aaran looked at Madrid, who shook his head. “Flesh wound. Your aim is deplorable.”
“Keep your trap shut, Maddy. I'm talking,” Aaran warned him.
I heard the shuffle of a fifth individual and moved in front of Madrid, based on the individual's approach vector. He inhaled and rushed forward, uncloaked sword arm flashing as he swung into me. The front of my jacket split as he scored my chest. I made a grab for his shoulder, but he had already spun away.
[Aaran!]
Her reflexes are normally quite sharp, but it wasn't until the blade had scraped her prosthetic forearm that she reacted. Her grab was more successful, taking hold of the sword edge as he pulled it away. It could do no damage to her supertough right arm. She kicked a leg out and knocked the newcomer onto his back, during which she twisted his arm and pinned him on his chest, knee on the small of his back.
Swift and elegant.
“Pretty good, but I've got tricks for dealing with optical camo,” she said, testing for a reaction by wrenching his arm further to what should have been the point of pain. Nothing. “Another feint. Flesh and blood toadie to throw us off guard so you can slip in and do your dirty.”
“Polished tactics. We have our own.” It was Mishan dressed in formals, short, sharp eyed and all focus. There was a bullet hole in the left shoulder of her blazer. “Thank you, Aaran.”
“Crash you Ulysses, what kinda job was this?” grouched the female. Ulysses muttered something snarky and unkind.
“You're not pros,” Mishan pointed out.
“As I was just telling 'em,” Aaran said. Mishan nodded curtly.
[Her name is Terrance,] I reported to Aaran, who acknowledged me with a glance.
“Don't thank me. He cut up my jacket. Where's Morones?”
“Safe. Need a hand?” Mishan smiled at me while I handed her a pair of plasteel ties which she used to bind the cyborg. “AOC's on the way. We can go. They'll collect these two.”
“No they won't. I'll have the 33rd bring them in. Capt. Coates is going to be trouble this time. Good as vapor, otherwise.” [So far from pros they needed to stay on the playground.]
[Indeed. I am intrigued by this fact.]
Mishan regarded her with serious misgivings, then sighed. “That's disappointing.”
[Makes two of us.] “Just a little.”
[Aaran!] It was Sonata! Her brief transmission was accompanied by an emergency glyph which I forwarded directly to Aaran.
“Flak.”
According to Sonata's emergency glyph Laston had somehow become suspicious enough to warrant retaliation. He had stabbed her with a charged blade-tool, sending her systems into safety shutdown. Aaran had to catch up to me.
[How bad is it?]
[She in shutdown state, but the damage is repairable. Laston will not stay for long.]
[So she'll be okay. That's good. Mishan. Where is he?]
[Aaran, he's a slippery one. Ducked into the back corridors toward civilian population.]
Aaran raised her hand and tilted toward the corridors and I split off, determined to cut Laston off before reaching his destination. [Mish, if you can, trip him up.]
[He's not wanted dead?]
[Not anymore. Put him off his feet.]
[Yes ma'am.]
Civilian foot traffic was not at peak levels, and his tactic of pushing through the mass failed to delay me appreciably. At the end of the hall his sweating visage appeared, leaning with hand and shoulder against the inside wall. He was grey-faced and panting. When he looked up, he spooked into a mad run of poorly coordinated limbs.
[He's slow.]
[He's hurt,] Mishan explained. [Sonata winged him. We can follow his blood trail.]
I ran until I encountered a proximity explosive mounted on the wall, beeping for my education. I glared at it, thinking hard about how I should disable the horrid little device. Meanwhile I advised Aaran and Mishan about this tactic.
[To be expected,] Mishan remarked.
[Find something to cordon off the area, then circle around. Bomb squad is on the way,] Aaran told me.
There was a utility room close by with several rolls of 'Danger Zone' tape, one of which I could use to create a safe parameter around the mine. While I was finishing, I noticed heavily armored soldiers driving up in a open top cruiser. I met with the nearest technician and explained the situation. He thanked me, and I followed after Laston. Mishan was on task, fortunately:
[Got him! He's down. Bleeding profusely ... we could lose him anyway.]
[Buddy, push in! I need a chat with this scrimper!]
[Yes ma'am.] I had his address from his attempts to hack our cruiser, and Sonata, incidentally, so I began to forge my way through his personal firewalls. They were like webs woven back into each other without any foundation. Locating a meaningful interface would take time.
[Nothing?] Aaran demanded. I confirmed, but reminded her to be patient. I was within sight of him. An emergency crew was driving up to Mishan who had torn off the arm of her jacket to prevent him from leaving us too soon. A paramedic stepped in, assessing Laston quickly and thoroughly.
“Sarrow,” said the medic accusingly. “Couldn't make up your mind?”
“Den,” Mishan replied, biting something else back. “Damage is mostly internal. Pierced lung.”
“I can see that. Step away.”
[-et you in! Well scrap. You got in.]
[Laston.]
[Hacked by a robot. My life of ironies does not end. Not yet, if this guy is any good at his job,] he griped.
[You are very clear minded for a dying man,] was my introduction. Aaran threw me a signal warning me to back down.
[Have you been in the minds of dying men before? A trivial fact, but entertaining ... oh ... he's not very good at this. I didn't really have plans, anyway.]
[You got in. Laston. You're only alive because I want you alive.]
[And who are you?]
[Nothing like introductions on the brink of death,] Aaran quipped darkly. [Aaran Coates. Meet my partner, Buddy Namiki. No, don't bother. You're Laston Pilcrow. Talon’s most accomplished Synapse Grinder. Natural talent, I hear. Why shame memories?]
[You care?]
I felt a hint of irony from her as she heard this. [No. I care you're taking that talent to Razor. You're not a criminal, just a pervert and a waste of good air. We end a civil war and run the red in memory techs who are in high demand, and this is your expression of patriotism?]
[How very well you know me. Let me die.]
[So you're no patriot. Pilcrow, you're trading more than shame memories, so until I get the answers I want, you stay here. Why'd you hire a hit on Mishan Sarrow?]
Points connected in the electronic ether, and Aaran was able to cue up a handful of data references, which she displayed for us. One of these was a supposedly anonymous record offering ten thousand credits for the disposal of Mishan during the 'planned disorder' of the 'elevator collapse'. Its date stamp was marked one week prior to the attack on Sector 9.
[That's yours. Janus streamed us while you were preparing it.]
Laston was silent, but the activity in his mind was formidable. His reverse hack was, on the other end, pathetic. Not only was I prepared for this tactic, Aaran had implemented her own 'feature' to prevent retaliation on his part.
[I can't think,] he protested rather feebly. [Let me think!]
[Can't take that chance. You know what's in your brain, but we don't. Incidentally, we don't have any motivation for the attack. You're just suspicious enough to keep even your closest friends out.]
[You're in. Take what you want.]
[Irony wins today. We can't unless you give us permission. You're still alive to keep us out, too.]
Still nothing. Aaran asked about Laston's physical condition.
“He's going to bleed out into his chest cavity if you don't let me move him.”
[You're torn. You want me to die,] Laston realized.
“Move him, then,” Aaran growled. [It's an option. The girl you stabbed has a heart.]
[What a waste of good replacements....] his voice went away with the glimmering hints of his consciousness. Was he dead?
“He's going into arrest! Greyson! Take his feet!” Den barked. They moved swiftly, lifting him into the emergency cruiser where suitable equipment was located. The doors snapped shut behind them.
“Shards!” Aaran cursed, grinding her heel into the artificial sod.
[You had that much on him and did not tell me?] I projected.
Aaran winced. [I have a lot more on him. What're you griping about? You have access to my records.]
[Not right now!]
This stultified her. [Well scrap. You're right. I'm sorry. So used to you checking my markers I didn't think you couldn't reach 'em.]
Something else bothered me. [You placed Laston in unnecessary danger.]
[Now you're questioning me? Gotta be a day for the books. Send a glyph to the Court if you think it matters.]
[I am not questioning you. I want to know why you did it.]
Aaran looked around at the mess. Mishan had removed her jacket and was examining the extent of damage done. The utilitarian park around us had naturally grown broad-leaf trees, light sculptures, stylish benches and a few gaudy-looking entertainment venues. The last performance of 'The Princely Frown' starring Vincent Faraday was dated today, according to its unlit marquee.
“Mishan.” [How's the shoulder? Buddy, pay attention.]
With a snarl and sigh, Mishan Sarrow hooked a finger into the neck of her jacket and slung the rest over her shoulder, approaching with a frown. “Count your blessed stars Pilcrow was a fool. Hello Buddy.” [Sore. I think that was a barrel ride for show.] Her smile was vastly charming.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Sarrow.” [Then we are in agreement.]
Aaran grinned at her. “You're that upset he put a hole in your suit jacket?” [And we have to wonder why someone makes a show of assassination. Were they robbing Laston for kicks and giggles?]
“You're paying for repairs.” [He's not getting his creds back, to be sure.]
She nodded. “Joynes works with natural fibers and it so happens he's got a gift for it.” [We'll lock up those cronies for a while for carrying unregistered weapons and attacking political officials. Then we'll keep tabs on them so long as they're amusing to us. Mishan, why are you here?]
“Hungry?” [Reins of the Crown warned me that Avalon has been influencing shard bearers. I have a glyph for you.]
“I just had my fill. We've got a ride coming. Want a lift?” [I'm getting too many orders.]
“No, thank you. My ride's on the way.” [Indeed, Yyone. Soul thieves are a minor matter. You trust Buddy?]
“How did you escape injury?” I prompted. [Why do you ask?]
“Felynx have pretty deft reflexes. I heard the primer from Terrance's rifle and glanced the shot off my shoulder. Flesh wound.” [The KnightsMage must be rallied, and should you come to undue harm the task cannot be waylaid.]
“All to plan. Janus' information was dead on accurate.” [Buddy is my guy. Just what kind of encryption is on this glyph? I can't touch it.]
“Spare me the puns, please, Mrs. Coates.” Mishan smirked. [As you say. Perhaps I am jealous. You may find it easier to decrypt with the aid of your ally.]
“Not a chance.” [He's already there. Not liking the whiff of this.]
Mishan's head swiveled to an unmarked cruiser piloted by a cloaked light skinned Felnyx. “Good hunting, then,” she said with a bow. [Your thread is my concern, not your distaste.]
“Be safe, Mishan. Say hello to Dust for me,” I said. [It does amuse, sometimes.]
“Yes. I will,” she replied before departing. [Thankfully we are not all so dependent upon mirth to survive.]
We watched the graceful bodyguard in dark casuals stride across the grounds. Aaran sighed again and pinged me with a touch of annoyance. [Buddy, Can I count on you for a bit of morale support? Mishan's a mite unruly.]
[You say 'unruly'. Aaran, you put your allies under stress. Civility is kindness. We all must be tougher than what would destroy us.]
[Crash it I know that. Laston's going to be a pain in the rump. Thankfully he's the kind who spills under pressure.]
[Unfortunately he was too busy spilling his vitals to be of any use to us.]
[Never mind it now. Let's go collect Sonata.]
Threads of Canor: Sector Bomb Page 8