Nanoshock

by K C Alexander

  I nodded.

  We had to get in there.

  Tashi muttered. Then, “The exit?”

  “The exit sign suggests so,” Malik replied. Deadpan.

  Muerte bent to peer around him. “What’s in the other room?”

  “Exactly what I’d like to know,” I interjected. Thank you, Muerte.

  Tashi’s relief turned to a foot stomp – fucking cute – and a snarled, “Indigo, you infojunkie motherfucker.”

  “Don’t leave me out of that!” Muerte waved at Tashi behind them, and then nudged Malik in the back. “Go play bait.”

  I snorted a laugh. But because this was a run and I didn’t want to risk getting caught with my linker down again, I paced Malik as he approached the checkpoint.

  This time, the doors opened without help.

  “Odd for a checkpoint,” Malik noted. He swept the interior on the right. I covered on the left, back to back.

  Our lights painted pale swaths through the dark. End to end. Top to bottom.

  Broken tech. Smashed monitors. Charred plastic and blackened wires. Even the frames had been twisted. Monitors that had been set into the walls – for security purposes, most likely – left behind little more than gaping rectangles and dangling, still sparking wires. The sparks lit up small areas as they flashed. Only to leave the room feeling darker than before.

  My lip curled. “I see why it was open.”

  “Unfortunate.”

  Behind us, Muerte and Indigo stepped in. Tashi walked in backwards, watching our asses.

  Slowly, we all panned.

  Hssss.

  A buzz in my ear. Or was it in the room? I tipped my head to one side and shook it hard. As if I’d gotten grit in it. “You hear that?”

  Indigo jumped. His light jerked. “Fucking fuck, Riko, don’t do that.”

  I guess they hadn’t heard it.

  “Clear it,” Malik ordered, and strode out farther.

  Indigo rolled his eyes, then gestured silently at the rest of us.

  “You can take the motherfucker out of the suit,” I muttered.

  “I told you–”

  “Oh, sorry,” I said sweetly as I covered my own radius. “I meant motherlover.”

  “Who isn’t?” asked Muerte, laughing.

  Her hoarse humor earned Tashi’s hard, “Fuck off.”

  “Shut it,” Indigo cut in. “Focus.”

  We did. The security checkpoint was big enough that we could all split it into fifths, surveying the carnage side to side. Frames still in one piece blocked the way in places, overturned counters and hanging grates blocking others. In the background, just above the hum, I heard them forging through the mess. Glass crackled and crunched. A sharp clang followed by a hissed, “Shitting ow!” earned Muerte a combined, “Muerte!” from three sources.

  Reed’s voice was not among them.

  “My bad,” she whispered raggedly.

  After two minutes of excruciating silence, I reached the far wall. “Clear,” I said.

  “Clear,” Reed echoed.

  “Clear,” Tashi said thirty seconds later, followed by Indigos, “Cl… shit!”

  It happened so fast, Muerte and Reed didn’t have time to respond. Tashi and I flanked Indigo’s grid, and we were in motion the moment his clear faltered.

  As the other two wrenched their lights around, Tashi and I were already shouting in unison.

  “Get down!”

  “Drop!”

  Too late.

  A body tore over a mangled counter, feet and hands scraping like an animal up its sides and off the surface. It was in the air before we’d finished verbalizing our reaction, and Indigo shouted as the thing tackled him head-on.

  Nails grated across armor.

  Blood rushed to my head.

  Reed barked something I couldn’t hear as my whole left side twitched so violently that I dropped my Valiant.

  “Get it off me!” Digo screamed, fists full of the necro’s filthy shirt and barely holding its gnashing teeth away from his face. He twisted, strained to move the bulky body, but the thing flailed and clung and threw all its weight without caring about hurting itself.

  Tashi ducked low, arms streaming behind her as she streaked towards the clusterfuck. Her steels slid out from the sheaths at her forearms so smoothly that she had hands, and then she had sharp fucking metal throwing back blinding reams of light.

  The cramp in my tech let go so fast I staggered.

  Righted myself.

  Juices dribbling down its chin, the necro suddenly jerked his head upright, impossibly red eyes fixing on Tashi. Optics. Total replacements, the kind that mercs who don’t care about blending in pack around.

  Tashi leapt for the thing’s back, shouting, “Shove!”

  Indigo braced every muscle he had and shoved. Hard.

  No. Too slow. A nanosecond after Digo pushed, the thing grabbed two handfuls of floor and half-leapt, half-dragged himself forward, leaving Tashi to either land on Digo or compensate. She chose the latter, splaying her legs to frame Indigo, blades at the ready over him.

  Linker first. Always.

  I don’t know how I knew it’d happen, but I was already in the air, tackling the necro in the chest with my left arm and shoulder shoved into its gut. The necro lurched, arms and legs splaying in the direction its momentum had been carrying him.

  Something wet and loud ground in its body, right by my ear.

  My eyes widened. “Sh–”

  Too late. Again.

  The thing opened its mouth in surprise, in sheer inability not to, and red and yellow bile gushed from its chest and throat. Chunks of meat splashed my cheek, my shoulder and chest. It hit the floor with an ungodly wet splatter.

  I sealed my teeth under the strain of its weight, even as my skin tried to rip itself from the rest of me and crawl away.

  Feet dug in to the floor, back muscles straining and heaving with every iota of strength I’d ever pounded into my body, I reversed the thing’s momentum and bodyslammed it to the ground. Its back bowed.

  Crunched.

  “Don’t shoot Riko,” Muerte rasped. Red laser cut through, twitched as it tried to find a mark that wouldn’t cost me another limb.

  Reed didn’t answer. The laser sighted at the thing’s head, which lifted. It bubbled and frothed, scrabbling at the floor. I’d seen necros drag themselves along with wet and ruined intestine hanging from their legless bodies. I didn’t expect a snapped spine to stop this one.

  Malik’s Manticore ripped a 12mm hole in the necro’s skull. The report screamed through the checkpoint, cracked so loudly I flinched away. Wasn’t aware I’d done it until the mirrored shriek in my brain abruptly went silent.

  Made the leftover hum so much easier to deal with in comparison.

  “That ain’t gonna do it,” Muerte said in the lingering quiet.

  Tashi approached the squirming, dripping necro. Wordlessly, she grabbed her steels in both hands, angled them as if they were one blade side by side, and sliced through flesh, cartilage and bone like it was nothing.

  I panted, resting both hands on my knees, the remains of the thing’s bile turning sticky on the side of my face.

  Muerte clapped me on the back as she passed by. “Don’t puke again.”

  I didn’t have it in me to reply.

  The thing finally stopped moving. Blood and worse pooled and splattered in every direction around it.

  “Anybody wounded?” Malik asked. Not like he cared, but like he cared about necro fluids in open wounds.

  “Anybody feeling techish?” Muerte added.

  I hadn’t, thank fucking luck, ingested any of the shit on me. “No,” I managed between gasps. I tapped one ear, wincing some. No sound. No pressure. “Didn’t swallow anything either.” But it smelled awful. I coughed as the pungent burn of necro vomit seared all the way into my brain.

  Tashi swiped both of her blades in the air. Ichor and clinging flesh splashed to the floor on either side of her. “We done?”
/>
  Indigo and Muerte looked at each other – or I assume they did. She still had her helmet on. Something must have passed between them, because they both looked at me. When I only shrugged, Indigo moved around Tashi to study the body. Then he crouched and peered sideways at the head.

  “It’s Kern,” he said after a moment.

  “You sure?” I asked, frowning.

  “Definitely.”

  “Well, shit.”

  Reed waited all of us out, studying the corpse of the necro. Without being able to see his face, I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  Muerte shook her head, removed her pistol from her rig and aimed at the twisted, shredded face. “Move,” she said, and gave Tashi all of a second to do it.

  Tashi did.

  With better aim than I’d manage, Muerte fired. The head skittered away with the impact. She fired again. And again. Until the thing rolled and bounced like a ball and there was nothing left in the grisly mass to shoot. Just one big bloody lump.

  When the last shot faded away, I eyed the remains and flipped Muerte a thumbs up. “Nice.”

  She holstered her weapon, grabbing her Insurgent with a shrug. “Seemed smart.”

  “Well, guess we go,” I said with a sigh of relief. “Before something else goes wrong.”

  Tashi, for the first time in ages, smiled at me.

  Muerte pointed at me. “Riko has to go first, she stinks.”

  “C’mere,” I countered, “let me hug you.”

  Tashi and Indigo looked at each other. Looked at me. Then both pointed to the door. “Everyone else first,” Indigo said flatly. His face, though. His face made me want to die with laughter. I never knew he could make that face.

  “Oh, come on,” I purred, and sauntered his way. “Want a celebratory snog?”

  “Fuck no,” he groaned, and hurried for the door.

  Tashi stared at Muerte until she shrugged, laughing, and followed. Reed gave me a hard look. I spread my hands and gestured to him first.

  As they picked their way through the scattered remains of the security checkpoint, I bent and palmed the lump of bloodied chipset buried in lumpy pink-gray mucus. It’d have answers. No doubt about it.

  Pocketing the gory thing, I eased into a jog. “Hey, wait up!” I called. “I want to rub my love juices on yooooou…!”

  43

  Reed called for an extraction team the moment we surfaced. Then, wasting no time, he called for a burn team. A helo picked us up before the second team arrived. Reed’s crew had come prepared with quarantine containers and radiation bunks – though they also disarmed us of all Mantis gear in the process. I’d gotten to keep the basic clothes, at least.

  And the chipset I’d smuggled by.

  Once cleaned and disinfected, we split and agreed to meet at the Mecca. For celebratory drinks and – Indigo didn’t have to say it aloud – visual proof that I’d more than earned my place back with the crew. About fucking time. With any luck, the word would spread: mess with Riko, mess with the rest of the gang.

  Fidelity and Valentine still needed to be convinced. Digo believed it’d be easy.

  I wasn’t so sure, but at least I’d learned when to stow my dick. At least a little. Indigo had finally come around – even if he’d done so with half a mind I was still responsible. I could work with that. Hell, if everyone else chose that route, that’d be just great.

  We fight together. We win together. And we fall together. That’s what makes finding family among mercs so dangerous.

  * * *

  I was glad to be back. And this time, as I sauntered my way into the Mecca in skin-tight electric yellow vinyl shorts and black boots up to my barely covered vag, I brought the Valiant with me. So Jad could stroke it.

  Tits on wheels, did he. Like a lover, but with none of the tongue action.

  The smile he shot me over its nicely polished barrel screamed love at first sight. “You just made my life, baby girl.”

  “Aren’t I awesome?” I asked, grinning. I held out my arms, showed off the lack of weaponry in long tight white sleeves and a low, low back. The front of the bodysuit sported an anthropomorphized version of a koala snorting a line of cocaine, and the words Take it easy, mate!

  It wore an army hat. Because why the fuck not.

  And so did I. One of those diagonal ones I’d found on a pack of street thugs rolling shops for creds. They’d gotten in my way, so I’d smeared them. And stole the hat.

  Because why. The fuck. Not.

  I tipped it to him as he gave me back the Valiant. “Shiva says you go in as you are,” he told me, deep voice rich and serious. “The cut she’d take from anybody claiming your fine ass isn’t worth the hassle, so you’re probably all right for now.” He paused. “It true you took out a MetaCorp station?”

  Word traveled fast. At least half of it. Thank you, Indigo.

  My grin stretched ear to shit-eating ear. “Fuck yeah.”

  He pushed out a large fist. “Fuck yeah,” he echoed, and I bumped his knuckles. “Go see Shiva first thing. She at the bar.”

  Behind the beaded curtain, the place rocked, top to bottom and side to side. Jam-packed with mercs and slummers, saints and chromers; the usual crowd plus the strays that always find their way in. The energy wasn’t as rabidly violent tonight, but wild and, dare I say it, happy.

  At the very least, the kind of happy that means you forget your bullshit for a while.

  I tucked the Valiant into the rack I’d settled around my waist, so it hung diagonal over my ass. As I passed, I gave Shar a laughing wave. “Stop taking all the cute ones,” I said. “And stop hogging the door.”

  He laughed, gasped mid-humor as a chromer I didn’t know pinned him harder to the wall, balls deep and definitely gone on whatever Shar was dealing tonight. The guy had the look of a rich kid slumming it, with a chrome piece wrapped over his arm and a curved bar at his right ear.

  But the way he fucked said he was no stranger to the vibe.

  I grinned as both groaned in tandem, left the linker to his pleasures. He sure knew how to pick ’em. And if he was getting fucked so casually, the tension in the place had definitely slacked. Shar didn’t sit on a cock if there was blood in the air. Too distracting.

  The fact a horny linker with good taste had become my barometric warning system made me laugh.

  As promised, Shiva poured drinks at the bar. She’d gone full Kongtown tonight, in one of those small floral dresses with a slit up the thigh, cap sleeves and straight collar. It was black on black, its sheen occasionally gleaming under the lights. When she moved, slick purple leggings cupped every fine definition of her legs. Her long hair had been twined into some ornate knot that miraculously didn’t fall, and her makeup was black on black on black. Smoky eyes, pitch dark lips. Aggressive sweep of dark metallic gray at each temple.

  The crowd was slavering over it. So very goth chic.

  I claimed a meter of the bar, waited with my elbows planted on the surface. Didn’t acknowledge it when a space opened up around me.

  I was never unarmed. But now I wore it in the open. A sign of weakness?

  Maybe.

  But a sign of favor, too. Right now, I’d ride it all the way to winsville.

  Shiva wandered my way, mimicked my pose. Black nails dotted with silver bits of paint winked at me as she folded her fingers under her chin. “Did Jad speak to you?”

  “He did.” I smiled, cupped my chin in my open palm. “Turned on that you care, Shiva.”

  Her lips curved. “Mind yourself anyway,” she warned. “My fees are still in effect.” And she wouldn’t say no if they offered enough. Yeah, I knew how it went. “And please, darling,” she added as she straightened. “Don’t irritate me by flirting.”

  I swallowed a laugh, tried my best for straight face. Barely managed it as I saluted sharply. “Yessir.”

  “Go away.”

  But the fact her endless violet eyes gleamed in humor eased some of my own tension as I left. I’d gotten that radiatio
n shower, now it was time for a drink. Everything had fallen in place. Digo had data to decrypt, which meant we’d learn what had been so important to hide in the sewage of the city.

  Muerte had proven herself, so she’d probably made a good impact on Digo.

  Tashi had sort of come around. At least I’d see her coming next time she pulled an interceptor on me.

  Valentine and Fidelity didn’t seem inclined to finish the job they’d picked up, or at least I hoped not. Boone hadn’t commed in to say they’d slipped him.

  The detective, in thanks for his stupidity near my shack, had earned the creds I was going to make Indigo pay him.

  And for the moment, nobody else was jumping my shit.

  Felt like victory all the way around.

  So why, I wondered as I made my way through the usual Mecca crowd, did I still feel so uneasy?

  Much to my surprise, Fidelity flagged me down before I hit the usual booth, waving me over to an array of padded furniture spaced out for casual hanging. The stuff was all curved and exotic, with graffiti art splashed all over. Someone had told me it was representative of the Buddha – another one of those eastern religions lapped up here in fantasyland.

  It worked for Shiva. Which meant it worked for us.

  I halted just outside the ring, arms folded and legs braced. I may as well have stamped I will take no shit on my chest.

  Tashi perched on the back of one of the armchairs, feet on the arm rest and Fidelity sprawled in the seat under her. She’d gone torn-up denim, loose black tanktop and no bra under, which had more than a few looks scattered her way.

  She ignored them. She always did. I appreciated that about her – we rocked what we wanted and broke who we didn’t.

  Fido and his orange surprised nobody – though he’d added some purple and yellow to the mix. Yellow shades reflected back the Mecca’s whirling lights, shoved up into the wavy sweep of his black-brown hair. He raised a glass of blue – he’d ordered an Indigo. “Don’t panic,” he said, “all I’m armed with is booze.”

  “Who’s panicking?”

  He grinned. Neon orange capped his teeth, a dayglo grill. “I hear you ran a solid.” I waited. “Listen, if Indigo’s goin’ to trust you, I’m giving him the benefit of the doubt.”