by M. D. Cooper
“Point and your target prays, I like it,” Olivia said, taking it from him. “We’re good to go.”
CHAPTER TWO
The trip in the air car was smooth, quiet, and uninteresting. Austin had dropped credits right into the virtual slot of an all-night rental vending kiosk, linked the vehicle to him, and here they were. Rain lashed the outside of the air car, the autopilot not caring even a little bit. The sun had set hours ago, leaving the heavens a bruised black. The New York skyline was painted in neon, advertising screened on most buildings stretching from ground to scrape the sky. It made money, maybe, but it was such an old tech way of advertising. Ruby pointed at one ad, from Toyota-Mitsu. It was done in a looped video style, projecting an idyllic commute to a nice syndicate office, and then home again to deal with the little bundles of joy waiting at the home hearth. She sneered, something brittle showing through. “Like those are places you want to go.” It’s possible she was just a little upset at what Austin had done back at the lair.
“What do you mean?” said Leck.
“Well, fuck going to the office, and fuck kids,” she said. “I fucking hate kids.”
“Noisy, right?” said Olivia. “Still. Might be nice to have one.”
“Only if it’s a dead one,” said Ruby, looking out the windows of the air car.
Definitely she was still riled about the lair. She didn’t care that Austin kept calling it a lair; this group of runners was used to eclectic bosses with arbitrary ways. They just wanted the cash. It wasn’t even that Austin had gunned down two other runner prospects to make some kind of statement. No, Ruby Page had looked ill when Austin had done his ‘Kara trick’ on the rest of his employees. He’d left his warehouse full of mindless drones packaging up off-brand porno. Last thing he needed on the eve of a great victory was some asshole trying to get famous on the network, so he’d gone and cored out their minds by subverting their link architecture. It wasn’t a thing he was proud of, but it did cut down on the noise. Right now? He needed less noise. A little time to focus on the important things.
Thing the first: this mission. They were finally—finally—going to Reed. They were going to steal—if you could use that term for a thing you’d made, that was your life’s work—an invention that would remove all conflict. Conflict about whether kids were important. Conflict about percentages. Conflict about who owned the IP. In Austin’s future world, everyone would get theirs, and they’d get it straight from the tap. The Decider would help everyone reach consensus without the tedious meetings and stakeholder management in the middle.
Thing the second: his link chimed, an incoming comm request. It came painting his overlay with the usual information about the caller, and when Austin saw who it was he considered just ignoring the call. But maybe, just maybe, it was time to gloat. So, against at least a part of his better judgement, he answered. While link comm was done without any real use of voice, everything internal and synthesized, he felt that a clearing of the throat was important, so he opened with that. Then he said, “Asshole.”
“Fucker,” agreed Cayo Moody, on the other end of the link call. “Catch you at a bad time?”
“Not at all, Cocoa.”
“It’s Cayo… look, never mind.” Austin could almost feel the sneer coming down the link. “I just called. For old time’s sake. Like that time… do you remember? Where I tossed your sorry ass out on the street.”
Austin remembered. He remembered well. Cayo Moody, company man right to the spun fibers of his powered armor. An enforcer, and while not a hundred proof from the top shelf, definitely up there in his caliber and quality. Cayo had led the ‘investigation’—Austin thought of it as a sham—into his Decider device. It was Cayo who’d got the bonus—an extra fucking percentage—from Austin Ainley’s fall from grace. “About that,” said Austin. “I feel like we should talk.”
“About your super-secret raid on the Reed facility up state?”
Austin paused. “No.”
“Aw, c’mon, Austin.” Cayo’s voice was smooth like honey for a moment. “Don’t get down. We’ve had our eye on you, Ainley. We’ve had our eye on you from a long way away.”
The man was a primitive and probably didn’t realize the word play here. Reed Interactive’s logo was a giant eye. Best to test that. “Like the logo?”
“The what?”
“Doesn’t matter,” said Austin. “Look, Cocoa? Last time we met you had a hundred other assholes with you. This time, well.”
“This time, there’s still gonna be another hundred assholes,” said Cayo. “I’ll be waiting. It’s a date, Austin.”
“You and your team?” said Austin. “This some kind of group therapy session?”
“Yeah,” said Cayo. “My team.”
“Did you know,” said Austin. “There’s no ‘I’ in team?”
“What?”
“But there’s a ‘U’ in cunt,” he said, and closed the link connection. He cleared his voice in real space, the car’s occupants—his whole team bar Kerry, who was back at the lair running operations support—looking at him. “So.”
“They know we’re coming,” said Olivia.
“Yes.
“Fucking awesome,” said Leck, with some enthusiasm. He had a wraparound vest on over ripped denim. Austin figured he was hoping they wouldn’t shoot for the legs or head.
“I like you, sugar,” said Ruby, winking at Leck. She drew her SMGs, checking the action, then holstered them again. She was sporting a thin polymer armor done in matte black that definitely didn’t come off the rack. There were abrasions at the shoulder and chest that looked like someone had spent time filing off a syndicate logo. No helmet, which probably meant her skull was made of diamond or a polymer laminate. “Doesn’t matter if they know we’re coming. They don’t know the how of it, or the what of it. Or even the when of it. They’ll be wired and jittery, and in we swoop, guns a-blazing, vengeance of old coming from the sky above.”
“I’m not on board with this plan,” said Olivia, hugging her deck to her chest. No armor. Just a portable deck and a shotgun. Austin admired her approach: hide behind the bullet sponges. It’s what Austin himself would be doing, despite the kevlar weave of his jacket.
“Don’t fret,” said Leck. “Stay behind me, kid, and let’s have us some fun.” The way he said ‘fun’ spoke of a level of visceral enthusiasm that Austin had only observed in the audience of a prize fight. He liked having a man like this on his team.
“Let’s,” said Austin. “Wheels down in five.” While the air car didn’t have wheels in the typical sense, they were only five minutes out. Five minutes to the start of a rain of death on those who’d wronged Austin. Much like Leck, he really couldn’t wait.
• • •
Four minutes out, their air car communicated with the landing bay. It was using codes bought at some cost through Kerry’s contacts, Olivia having hacked the car’s electronics to talk like a syndicate vehicle would. Austin figured he’d loose his bond on the car, but after tonight it wouldn’t matter. He’d buy his own damn fleet of cars.
The expert system in the car talked to a smarter expert system on the ground, and between them they agreed that landing was going to be just fine. Four minutes and thirty seconds away from the Reed facility, the helipad winked at them from out of the gloom, dirty acid rain on the windscreen smearing the landing lights into whites, oranges, and reds. Despite Cayo’s gloating, there didn’t seem to be a party waiting for them. No anti aircraft turrets. No missiles tearing their vehicle from the sky. Just rain, and darkness, and the landing lights.
Fifteen seconds from touchdown, Leck tore open the air car’s doors as it was decelerating into a landing. He whooped into the rain that lashed in at them all. Not waiting for touchdown, he leapt from the air car, falling into the gloom. Austin’s eyes—top shelf, nothing but the best—picked Leck out in IR. He watched the big man land in a crouch, the big sledge held low and ready. There were three people down there with Leck. One was surprised h
elipad tech, who hadn’t been expecting anyone to land, especially not a large angry man with a hammer. The other two were Reed soldiers, shoulders slumped in the rain, because nothing says my job sucks like having to wait in the fucking rain at a helipad where visitors are not expected. The poor assholes didn’t even have a guard station. Austin’s assessment? That was the least of their problems considering Ruby’s unholstering of her SMGs, one of her legs already on the deck as the car touched concrete.
Leck ran straight past the helipad tech and at the Reed soldiers. There was a yell—difficult to tell if it was from a syndicate man or Leck—and Austin watched the hammer swing through wind, rain, and helmet at roughly the same velocity. The noise of the impact was torn away by the howl of the storm, but the Reed soldier dropped like a dress on prom night. The other soldier was raising a weapon to bear, but a little too slow. The top of his face peeled open as both of Ruby’s SMGs chattered into the night. Austin had to admire the effects of whatever work she’d had done: her shot grouping was on point, both sets of fire concentrated on the head, boring through helmet and the flesh underneath. It was like the kick of weapons was something that happened to other people. She must have some killer recoil compensation in those arms that worked through the guns’ hard links.
Austin put a foot down, stepped out, and looked at the helipad tech. He walked towards the man. “How’s your day going?” He had to raise his voice more than was comfortable, squinting into the rain as he did so.
“Wh… What?”
“Your day,” said Austin. He unholstered the golden Glock. “Mine’s good! Thanks for asking.”
The tech’s eyes widened as he looked at Austin’s weapon. “I’m working overtime,” he offered. “I shouldn’t even be here.”
“Always the way, isn’t it?” said Austin. “The fuckers, right? They grind you down with compulsory overtime. You haven’t seen your wife in a month.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, the good news is, I’m here to end all that shit.” Austin gave a smile that he hoped was visible through the dark and the rain.
The tech brightened a little. “Really?”
“Really,” said Austin, and shot the man through the heart. Reed fuckers. All of them. He sauntered after Leck and Ruby, Olivia trailing at his heels. Austin didn’t even mind that he was getting wet; he’d killed his first Reed Interactive employee, which cast the day in a whole new light.
Leck and Ruby hadn’t made too much more progress, fetching against a sealed door leading in from the helipad to a—hopefully—drier interior of the complex. The complex itself? Just like the schematics promised. Low-slung. Featureless. The helipad had this one access door leading to the interior, and an external ramp leading up from the road access below. That road access would be filling with Reed troops in less time than it took to brew a good mocha, so time was of the essence. “What’s the hold up?”
“Door’s locked,” said Ruby, leaning against a wet wall without seeming to care whether the door was locked, the fact that she was wet, or that it was dark. Possibly she’d lost touch with her humanity a ways back.
“Let me get that,” said Olivia, unslinging her deck. Rain spattered against the screen and keyboard as she pulled an optic cable, jacking in to a small maintenance port under the door’s console. Austin took a little professional interest as she started slicing the door crypto. He’d dabbled with a deck in his time, and while he was never destined for greatness he knew what good looked like. Olivia appeared to be exactly that: good. Capable. Knew which end was black ice, likely to fry your deck and possibly your link and brain with it, and which was pure powder, soft snow that would yield secrets. She worked fast, programs spinning across the screen in rapid succession.
“Incoming,” said Leck, like he was hoping for it all along. Austin turned to see those predicted troops double-timing it up the ramp, lights on their armor bringing hope to dark places. Or that’s what they thought. “I’ll be right back.”
“Hold up,” said Olivia. The door hissed open. “We’re in.”
“Damn,” said Leck, looking at his hammer.
“It’s all good, champ,” said Ruby, sashaying on past. “They’ll be out here when we’re done.”
Leck brightened at that. “Cool story,” he said. “Let’s make it a true one.”
The slipped inside, rain still nipping at their heels before Olivia sealed the door behind them. The door was armored, thick glass and metal framing keeping hostiles at bay. The rain hissed against the outside as Olivia worked her deck a little longer. “Just sealing it. I don’t like surprises.” Ten seconds ticked past and she was done, slipping the optic cord back into the deck. She slung it over her shoulder, then readied her shotgun. “Good to go.”
The entrance was a double doorway affair, an internal door opening into a lobby designed to welcome… well, the sort of moneyed sararīman who would take an air car down to a secret Reed facility. The lobby was plush, arm chairs ready to accept the tired posterior of someone who had to wait more than twenty seconds. There were two other doors leading off the room; the first led outside, and the second was a big, vaulted security door. Behind that security door was pay dirt. A man with glowing blue hair waited behind a reception desk, his eyes widening as he took in Austin, Austin’s golden gun, and Austin’s three armed companions, in that rough sorting order. “Uh,” he said. Austin looked at the man, then at the door behind him, and thought, if we can get this guy to open the door, it’ll save some time. It was worth a roll of the dice.
“Now,” said Austin, “that is not very professional, is it?”
“I’m sorry?”
“Professional,” said Austin, but slower this time. He made sure to enunciate the syllables. “You’re a secretary, right?”
The man seemed to bristle, his blue hair glowing brighter for a second. “I’m the vice president of internal/external relations,” he said.
Leck looked at Ruby. “A what?”
“Secretary,” she said, looking bored.
“It’s all this position inflation,” said Olivia. “It’s why I can’t get a damn job out there. I think I’m applying for a job at a local cafe but they don’t want a waiter. They want a customer relationship specialist with experience in conflict resolution.”
“They might have a point with that,” said Ruby. “Last place I went to with real humans still serving the cattle? Rough ride.”
Austin wanted to seize the reins again. He faced the blue-haired man again. “Professional. You’re supposed to see what we want. Where we want to go. Offer to help.”
“You’re not on the schedule,” said the blue-haired man, pointing to a console next to him.
Austin raised the Glock and fired a single round into the console, smoke and sparks coming out in equal measure. “What schedule?”
“Uh.”
“Back to professionalism… no, look, sorry, this isn’t working for me,” said Austin. “I’ve got enough people I’m trying to mentor.” He waved at the three behind him. “You’re not my problem.”
“I’m… what?”
“I’m here for the Decider,” said Austin. He held his hands about shoulder width or so apart, gun still in one hand. “In a box about this big. You can’t miss it. Pretty sure it’s what this place is designed to protect.”
“That’s… secret?” The blue-hair man swallowed. “Even I don’t know what goes on here.”
“Can you call someone who does know?” said Austin.
“The console,” said the man, his hair dimming a little. “It appears to be broken.”
“Ah,” said Austin, and shot the man in the middle of his forehead. The blue of his hair cascaded to darkness as he fell to the ground. Austin turned to his team. “We’ll just have to stick to the plan. I was hoping they’d be reasonable about this, you know?”
“Fuckers,” agreed Leck.
“Syndicate assholes,” said Ruby.
“I’ll get the door,” said Olivia, unslinging her deck agai
n with a sigh. She headed toward the security door, already unspooling optical cable.
“Speaking of doors,” said Ruby, walking with a sway of hips back towards the helipad exit. She slipped a single mine into place on the door frame. Austin was no expert—that’s why he hired in expertise, after all—but it looked like the kind of device you didn’t want to mess with. Compact arms gripped against the framing, holding it in place. Nothing else obvious happened, no laser lights, no trip wires, just… nothing. Which implied that it was using non-visible light or other radiation, or even sonics to detect people near it. Nice.
Outside the door to the helipad, a number of wet Reed guards were trying to hack their way in through the door panel. Austin watched them for a moment, then he swiveled to face the main exterior door. “Lancelot,” he said.
“Only my mother calls me Lancelot,” said Leck, sounding doubtful.
“Leck,” said Austin, “I was wondering if you could effect some percussive maintenance on that other door.” He pointed to the lobby’s other exterior entrance.
“Sure thing,” said Leck, sauntering over with his sledge. He swung the hammer in a big overarm motion, pounding into the door’s console like it had wronged his entire family. Austin had a moment to reflect: sure, construction by humans was on the fall, but good people were hard to find. Surely a man of Leck’s talents could have been repurposed into something better? Just another example of Reed arrogance and shortsightedness. All of that would change, soon enough.
After a few more swings of the sledge, resulting in broken metal, sparking electronics, and a door that would not open anymore, Leck walked back towards Austin with a smile. His hammer was slung over a shoulder. “I’ll wait for something else to hit,” he said.
• • •
Leck didn’t have to wait very long.
The door Olivia was working on was bigger, sure, vaulted, definitely, but what it really was became obvious. It was, in technical parlance, a smoke screen. Behind the door, Austin expected another room full of gizmos, knick-knacks, or other miscellaneous corporate IP. It’s what was on Kerry’s schematics. It’s what Austin would have put there if he’d been designing the place. What he got instead was a surprise.