Necrotech

by K C Alexander

  We had programmed robots, self-maintaining nanos, tech that operated in tandem with the human body and with human needs, but no recursive self-improvement. AGI and its big brother ASI were, apparently, the nuclear option when it came to tech. If anybody was dabbling, nobody was dumb enough to hit the big red button. Yet.

  I didn’t bother with the conspiracy theories. I wasn’t into what-ifs and far-reaching hypotheses. What I liked were goals right in front of me, and right now that big, thick red line and the necro obstacles behind it were in front of me.

  “Purism aside,” I began.

  “I’m not a purist.”

  I grimaced at Malik. “Does it matter?”

  “I’m a lot of things,” he assured me, his gaze unreadable in the dark. Not that I expected light to help much. The man played his cards too close to the vest to figure him out. “You can call me any of them, but I’d prefer you didn’t make them up.”

  “Balls, you’re annoying.”

  One side of his mouth quirked. Finally. “I’ll accept that.”

  “Damn right. Can we get back to the point?” I gestured at the window’s glimmering map. “That chopshop is smack in the middle of a quarantine that you’re telling me is dotted with necro activity. Are they all the same necro?”

  “The frequencies were different in all logged cases.”

  I nodded, like it was no big deal.

  It was a shitstorm of a big deal. “I need inside,” I said. “The rest we can chunk as we go.”

  “Based on the information, it’s obvious that Jim was dealing there,” Indigo pointed out.

  “Nanjali Koupra was sold off there,” I said flatly, as if reminding him – reminding them both, and myself too – why it mattered. “I walked out from there.”

  “But your name is not on this list,” Malik noted.

  Figures he’d caught that. “So somebody’s a sloppy record keeper.”

  He waited me out. Still. Again. I hated that he could.

  I glared at him. “After I escaped, I hitched out of the Third Junction.”

  Malik didn’t blink. “The Third Junction isn’t the Vid Zone.”

  “It’s south, genius. And I wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind when I escaped, so let’s extrapolate from there, okay?”

  “You’re saying you walked without memory of it?”

  “I’m saying I’m right,” I shot back.

  Malik didn’t sigh. I expected him to, a lot like Indigo sighed when I locked down into stubborn, but he only studied my features.

  I wasn’t a diplomat for a reason. I’d go with him, or I’d go through him, but I was getting inside that shop.

  Maybe he got it. He gave in with surprising ease. “Let’s hope you’re right.” He reached over, a touch of a button somewhere on his desk, and the map faded, windows losing their tint. Sunlight streamed through the glass again, forcing me to flatten a hand visor-like over my eyes. “Standard operating procedure demands a burn team go in and raze a quarantine down to the last foundation. It takes roughly an hour to mobilize all the protocols. I can extend that time, but you need a team before the borrowed time runs out.”

  Which I knew. I knew because my team wouldn’t work with me, and I didn’t dare bring them in. One necro was bad. More was suicide, and I wasn’t even pretending not to know that.

  But I wasn’t ready for the hollow feeling it left in my chest.

  I knew that team. They knew me. We worked well together, had been on more successful runs than not. Hell, Boone and Tashi had been on that MetaCore run that landed me on Lucky’s table.

  Objectively speaking, I couldn’t blame them. I’d vanished, taken Nanjali with me, and for all they’d known, she was dead and I was a traitor.

  That’s why I needed to do this.

  “Then get me a team,” I began, only to jerk in surprise as Indigo said, “I’ll go.”

  “No,” I said flatly. I didn’t even look at him.

  If I went, maybe I died. For real. Fine. I could live with that, in a manner of speaking. If he went and he died?

  No. No way. Things were rough, but I wasn’t going to be the cunt that dragged her best team into hell with no hope of actually making it.

  “Don’t even try it, Riko.”

  I turned to face him, arms tight around my ribs. “Shut up,” I said, one cracking syllable away from boiling over. “I don’t care where we are, I will break your fucking face if you think–”

  “Yeah?” He shot to his feet. “Bring it on,” he snarled. “What the hell else could you do to me? You’re a smegging nutcase.”

  The fact I wanted to step back, recoil like he slapped me, infuriated me.

  “You’ve changed,” Indigo said grimly, “and we all know it.”

  My shoulders tightened. “I’m doing whatever it takes to get the information about your sister’s death. It doesn’t mean you have to go on a suicide run.”

  “My sister?” His laugh bit, not a trace of humor in Indigo’s sharp-featured derision. “You mean your girlfriend? The girl you were supposed to love and protect, not escort in to that hellhole.”

  “Chum off, I never said I was marrying her!”

  Indigo froze.

  Oh, fuck me. Fuck fucking fuck.

  With the words out, it didn’t matter that I spat them on a tide of mounting frustration. It didn’t matter that I’d only thrown them between us as a way to make him pause, to hurt him the way he was hurting me – tearing open the fragile scab of my guilt and jamming his fingers into the seeping wound.

  They were out, and they reeked of truth.

  His face pale, Indigo drew himself up, his hands fisted tightly by his side. “Thanks,” he said, so evenly, so detached it was as if I was talking to a stranger. “At least you’re finally honest about it.”

  “Digo–”

  “No.” He turned his back, his long braid swinging at his rigid shoulders. “Just admit for once that you’re only here for your own selfish ends and stop hiding behind Nanji.”

  Silence fell, thick and angry between us. I struggled to find the words, any words – something to mend this rift.

  Nothing came. I had nothing to give him but empty promises – the data, maybe. Whatever it said, I was betting everything on that intel.

  And what if it burned me?

  Indigo was right. I didn’t really play well with others; not like the Koupras had. It wasn’t about Nanji, and now I’d leave Digo up here in a heartbeat if it meant I could be rid of his baggage, too.

  But I swear, it was only because I expected that baggage to be dead weight. And I didn’t want to risk anymore dead anything.

  I couldn’t carry that.

  “This is a suicide run,” I began, voice low.

  He cut me off. “As I said,” Indigo said, tone cracked down to level, “I’m going. If that intel exists, I’ll be the one securing it.”

  The whiplash was enough to give a girl vertigo. My heart kicked up in a sudden surge of adrenaline I couldn’t lock down in time.

  It irritated me.

  I forced my face into tight lines. “You really don’t trust me, do you?”

  “Seriously?” He looked at me, and there was nothing friendly about it. His blue eyes practically spat venom at me. “What’s the problem, Ree? You hoping to shake me so you can cover your shit up? Not happening.”

  I took one step in his direction.

  Malik’s hand flattened over my chest. It wasn’t much by way of a wall, but the feel of it – warm and firm and steady when I felt like a freaking yo-yo – yanked me back into line better than any order. “You both sign on,” he said with all of that so easy authority, “and I supply you a team.”

  My heart did a painful ricochet.

  Too late, I realized he’d witnessed every word. Every bitter moment between Indigo and me. So this was vulnerability, huh?

  It sucked. No wonder Lucky had always been a loner.

  I turned slowly. More than a little numb. “A brand new team on a suicide
run? They better be incredible.”

  “They’re professionals.” Malik’s gaze held mine, but his expression hadn’t changed. If he thought anything about our exchange – about me – I couldn’t tell. The sun painted his eyes a strangely warmer shade of brown, turned his freckles to lighter golden flecks against his dusky skin. No sympathy there. Not even understanding. He could have been a robot, for all the emotion he showed me.

  Now I felt unbalanced. Exposed.

  “Great,” Indigo said, clipped from behind me “One question. Why bring her?”

  I jerked. “Shut your cocksu–”

  “She’s the only one who’s been inside,” Malik said, resonant conviction that sliced right through my streak of temper like it didn’t matter. “We’ve got no blueprints of the interior and we’re already flying in blind. Her boots on the ground take some of the risk out of the operation, which means I’m more likely to provide you the backing you need.”

  If he could feel the hammer of my heart against his palm, he didn’t so much as look at me. I’d give him points for that one.

  I was ready to punch someone. Just on principle.

  “She could just as well increase the risk,” Indigo said flatly.

  I bit down on my retort so fast, I’m pretty sure the sound cracked through the room. It was kneejerk to fight back, but the fact was, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

  I was not in my best shape. I’d had blackouts. I killed Jim without even batting an eyelash.

  But that wasn’t corruption. Lucky had cleared me. And Digo didn’t know about the rest.

  He was just being... angry.

  I hated this.

  When I stepped away from Malik’s hand, he still didn’t bother looking at me.

  “I’m bankrolling the both of you, a unit. Her inside knowledge, your expertise. If you want that team, you have your terms.” Malik’s stare leveled on Indigo. “Mr Koupra, I’m willing to offer you a sum three times your current rate for data extraction.” He reached beside him to pull his expensive chair back from the glass desk. “Aside from your pet project, I want you to locate the source of the infection and download it to a mobile unit.”

  Well, that was unexpected. A side quest. How cute. “Isn’t that impossible?” I asked.

  “No.” This from Indigo, surprising me. His jaw was still locked tight, his words forced through thinned lips, but he spoke like he knew his shit. As a linker, there were few I trusted more. Even now. “Necro conversion starts in a flesh-tech hybrid, but if it’s going to spread, it has to infect a system just like any other computer virus. There’s a point of entry.”

  I glanced at Malik, who waited in silence. His expression, on the grim side of patient, didn’t shift. “Why doesn’t it infect the bandwidth and take it all down?” I asked.

  “Fucking A, Riko, don’t jinx it,” Indigo said sharply. He scrubbed at his face with both hands. “Whatever the reason, necrotech code spreads through physical connection. It’s never hit the bandwidth, just burns out on wireless hubs. I don’t know why.”

  “There are working theories on the subject,” Malik offered in his deep, steady voice. If he was at all worried by the subject, I sure as shit couldn’t tell.

  “Reassuring.” I folded my arms, eyeing Indigo cautiously. “Can you find the source?”

  “It’ll be in the data logs, if I can get in far enough back.”

  “And you’re... willing?”

  His gaze flicked to me. “I’m not willing,” he said flatly. “I’m insisting. If you have to be there, fine, but I’ll see this with my own eyes.” Before I could do anything to the intel. He didn’t have to say it for me to get it.

  There was so much uncertainty, so much weird, that we didn’t have anything else between us. Just hatred and suspicion.

  That sucked so hard.

  Indigo was all I had left. Whether he liked it or not, he was the only one who had even a grasp of how in-fucking-credible this whole mess was, and I needed him to stay alive with that knowledge.

  He might hate me, he might blame me for Nanji’s death, that was fine. Just as long as he helped me figure out everything on that file.

  Now that he’d cut me loose, actually dumped my ass, I wanted him back. Selfish as that was.

  But it could mean losing him for real. “Dead men don’t spend creds,” I said, voice low as I stared at Indigo. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Digo stared down at the floor between his feet.

  “Three times your going rate,” Malik repeated. “On top of what it is owed for previous services.”

  Owed? For what?

  “Fuck.” Indigo rolled his shoulders. “Fine. I’ll work with her.”

  Whatever just happened between them, I wasn’t sure. I turned, jaw set, shoulders so tense, it turned my phantom ache into a bone-deep vibration. “Damn it, Digo, I am trying to save your life.”

  There was nothing remotely friendly in him as he gave me his back. “Wrong time,” he replied shortly, “wrong Koupra.”

  Motherfucker, that one hurt. Bad.

  He left the room without another word.

  Sucking in a breath, I whirled on Malik. “What just happened there?”

  “Happened?”

  I pointed at the door. “That. What you just did. What do you owe him for?”

  He studied me with mild interest. “Do you think Mr Koupra wants your nose in his financial concerns?”

  “Fuck what he wants.” My jaw thrust out, mulish to his cool reserve. “Did he set me up our first meeting?”

  He tipped his head faintly. An inquisitive line. “That question completely fails to credit me with any of my own agency.”

  “You’re saying that was all you and your douchedigger crew?” Malik’s eyes creased faintly at me, that hint of a smile playing around his mouth again, but he didn’t give me full-on teeth. Or an answer. I slapped a hand on the desk. “Why are you willing to let him go along?”

  “Because he wants to ensure that you’re telling the truth,” he answered mildly, “and I am willing to afford him the opportunity to soothe his conscience while equipping the team I’m sending down there with the best information available. That’s your firsthand knowledge and Mr Koupra’s coordinator – excuse me,” he corrected pointedly, “his linker expertise. It’s a guaranteed win for me.”

  “You’re using him.”

  “I’m using all of you,” he replied. Didn’t even try to smile his way out of that one. “Make no mistake. I couldn’t care less about your so-called cred or whatever emotional tug-of-war you’re playing. I want the intel in that lab. I will use every asset I have to achieve what I want. You may consider doing the same.”

  “Digo’s not an asset.”

  He shrugged. “On the contrary. He is an extremely valuable asset. Have you thought about affording him that much respect, at least?”

  I stared at him. “What, I should walk up to him and tell him how much of a stellar tool I think he is? He’s my friend.”

  Was. Was my friend.

  His mouth slanted, a corner twisted into humor that might have been rueful. Or just amused. “The way you treat your friends, I wonder how you sleep at night. Speaking of,” he continued over my sharp inhale and bitten-off challenge, “I suggest you get some rest. There won’t be time for sleep later.” He reached into thin air over his desk and withdrew that pale screen between three pinched fingers, the projection flawless. He focused his attention on the data.

  Dismissal. Damn him. My hands fisted at my side. “You think you’re so cute.”

  “Like you, I suspect, cute is not a word I often hear.” Before I could decide if I should be surprised or insulted, he looked up, a glint in his dark eyes. “Thank you.” Bag of dicks. Those two words combined with that sure confidence, and I remembered exactly why he pushed all my buttons.

  “That wasn’t a compliment,” I muttered.

  “As you say.” But I’d lost him again to the data on his projection. “Ms Ramsay will show you to
your quarters.”

  Okay, so I could admit some admiration for the guy. He had implacability down to an art form. I shook my head. “Fine,” I said, unwilling to let him have the last word. I folded my arms over my ribs, rocking back on my heels. “But only because I refuse to leave Indigo in your hands unsupervised.”

  Malik Reed was not the sort of gentleman to let a lady have the last word. “I think Mr Koupra would rather get paid. Even if he has to do it with you.”

  Such an asshole. Which worked, because I was no lady.

  I shot him a raised finger as I left the sun-dappled office with its crystal clear skylights. If he noticed, he didn’t make any sound.

  I’d gotten what I wanted – a team, Reed’s support. Even a linker I more or less trusted to know his shit. I would have felt better if Indigo stayed behind, but then, I didn’t trust anyone else out in the field to see this through. It made my job harder.

  Still, I was not going to let Digo take this on without me. No matter what.

  If Malik wanted him to link it so bad, I’d be riding Digo’s ass all the way to hell.

  And then we’d both know what happened to me.

  For better or for worse.

  17

  I wasn’t a complicated girl. I liked things simple, to the point, and up front. I wasn’t into angst, didn’t much care for chrome, and rich kids swaggering into my turf were tedious as hell to deal with.

  But they sure knew how to live.

  I’d expected some kind of barracks. A bunk out of the way, someplace quiet to rack out until we were ready to go. The “quarters” turned out to be a full-on suite of rooms linked together by double-wide archways. Short on doors, heavy on windows, light on the color palette.

  “Do you like it?”

  The receptionist’s first name was Hope. I’d learned it on the escort up another seventeen flights. Being trapped in an elevator didn’t leave a whole lot of room to avoid the small talk.

  On the plus side, she didn’t seem to mind that I wasn’t as chatty as she was.

  “Mr Reed suggested this room personally,” she continued, crossing the open expanse of bare flooring to nudge one of the handful of throw rugs into some kind of better positioning. The palette was all in gray, shades of charcoal and smoke and other words for it I didn’t bother coming up with, but the accents were pastel. Lavender, pale blue.