by M. D. Cooper
“I admire your optimism,” said Austin. “Let’s get some revenge.”
Olivia hacked a street car, opening the vehicle to the night and rain. They slipped inside, setting the autonav for the lair. “Now,” said Austin, extending a link feed to both of them. “Watch this.”
• • •
The lair was a simple layout, a repurposed warehouse, roughly square in shape. There was the lab part at the back, behind the clean room. There was a packing facility in front of that, connected to a distribution area for vehicles to take deliveries. Front of the building was the briefing room where they’d all met what felt like weeks ago, but was in reality mere hours.
Cameras were nested throughout the facility, showing every aspect of the operation. Austin felt that no one should steal from him. He was doing the stealing from Reed, and while some might have thought he was leading by example, he discouraged his staff from robbing him blind. So, the cameras. Before they’d left, he’d overridden everyone’s link systems, leaving his staff as mindless as Mara.
No, it was Kara. Kara. He’d get it right one day.
The Reed troops had descended on his lair like valkyries to a battlefield, ready to resurrect his workers from their terrible plight. The external cameras showed him Kerry, leading the Read team, pointing the way, showing the entrances, unlocking the doors, and generally being a huge pain in the ass by disrupting all of Austin’s shit. With Kerry was That Fucker, also known as Cayo Moody, who sported his faux eyepatch and body armor that, unlike the eyepatch, was more-action-less-pretentious-asshole. The eyepatch was a clever way to house better optics than you’d find in standard bionics, and Austin had it on some authority that Cayo fancied himself as a bit of a sniper. Behind the patch was probably a lens that took up more than a human eye socket; while it might interfere with Cayo’s chances of landing a score on a Friday night, it helped with being a sniper.
It was a huge shame, then, that the warehouse wasn’t prime sniping territory. It was a bigger shame that Cayo was going inside, as opposed to finding himself a little nest outside and waiting in the dark with a high-powered rifle. Lessons would be coming thick and fast to all parties tonight, if Austin had his way. And Austin was definitely going to get his way.
• • •
Austin linked Ruby and Olivia in to a secure channel. He didn’t give them direct access to the feeds, using himself as a relay, because while they’d shown tremendous value in the past mission, there was still water to flow under the trust bridge. If he had his way, he’d book a retreat somewhere that served a decent cocktail in a coconut. Get them along. Do some strategizing. Get a motivational speaker along, someone who doubled as a home birth specialist; they’d have a name like Moon Dragon. When they were at the retreat, they’d do some trust falls, and then hit the bar. It’d be great: on returning to New York, they’d finally be one.
At the moment? They were names on his payroll. Hence, they were getting a relayed feed. Olivia was recording it, which suited Austin just fine. Ruby had that look on her face that said I wish I had more than one good arm and I am memorizing the layout of this place and I’m going to have me a party, everyone’s invited. All those things were on her face, and Austin appreciated the honesty of the expression.
Inside the lair, he could see Cayo moving with Kerry among Austin’s previous… employees. Many of them looked shell-shocked, like they’d just had a tour in some syndicate’s backyard private war, flame-burst weapons raining down and turning their friends into barbecue. Having your mind ripped away was a little like that, and if Austin had the Decider it would never have come to this. But it had, and so there it was.
Reed’s basic problem was they were arrogant assholes. It’s why Seattle had gone so wrong for them. It’s why they’d kicked Austin out on his ass. And that company culture—which drifts, top down, like snowflakes from the sky—was layered thick on Cayo Moody. To a lesser extent, Kerry carried a little of that fallout. Austin could see through the cams she was already walking with her shoulders a little straighter. She was leaning towards a man who was rocking himself, sobbing, a gentle hand on his shoulder like she was Ramiel the very angel of hope. That shit wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all. Hell, Austin’s seat wasn’t even goddamn cold in his office and she was sweeping in like an answer to prayers.
Fuck that.
Austin initiated the zombie protocol.
The thing with taking over the minds of people through hard link contact was that it was fast, and it was effective. If you knew the way in—something supposedly impossible, as link subsystems were heavily shielded against the sort of asshole Austin fancied himself—then you didn’t have any problematic bandwidth constraints. You could upgrade—or downgrade, depending on your point of view—a whole new human operating system. Sure, there were bits of the brain that weren’t accessible to the link, but if you had bionics that helped you walk, breathe, see, or think, then you were going to become Austin’s bitch.
The downside—where previous efforts had failed, ninety-nine times—was that while hacking link systems was difficult, keeping people alive afterward had been even harder. The problem stemmed from needing to seed a new human OS while the body was still operational. It was tricky to swap out the underlying organics for silicon without the body having a panic. But Austin had nailed that. Kerry thought she knew how Austin’s tech worked, and she did for the most part. Waking these people up was a matter of re-enabling the good ol’ complex code evolution had given these people, letting their minds work again under their own free will, no doubt by way of the Decider. Yes, you want to live. Of course you do.
Kerry, of course, didn’t know everything. After Reed and Austin’s outing, he was never going to disclose everything he knew. Not to anyone. As a for-example, he hadn’t told Kerry that part of his code nested inside people, waiting for a wake-up signal from Austin’s zombie protocol. He didn’t need a hard link; bandwidth wasn’t a problem to switch a bit from zero to one. He just needed a back door into an existing link system.
Which he’d installed through the hard link. Good times were ahead.
Austin set that zero to a one, and leaned back in the seat of the car, watching the link feed.
That sobbing man? He stopped wailing like someone had turned off a faucet, just… out, no more tears, no more noise. Ruby saw that, and over the link network said, “Hell. Austin? You could sell that shit to parents. Newborn won’t shut up? Make those little fuckers.”
Olivia was nodding. “Yeah. I mean, there’s a product just dying to get out there.”
“That,” said Austin, “is the least of it. Toddlers don’t do this.” He then enacted the next phase of the protocol.
Kerry, to her credit, appeared to take stock of what the actual fuck is going on. He saw her surprise over the feed, feet backing her away from the previously-sobbing man. It backed her towards another worker, a woman with a face like a chewed caramel, some industrial accident (Austin didn’t care what you looked like, just whether you could do the work) having left her more desperate than most. The zombie code active inside her link systems, she reached around Kerry, holding her tight. Holding her like a lover.
No. Actually? Chewed-caramel held Kerry like a polar bear held prey. Her lips pulled back from teeth, ready to sink into the side of Kerry’s neck.
Cayo Moody, though, now that man was no ordinary company enforcer. This wasn’t his first rodeo. He didn’t shock easy, having seen all manner of horrors in his rounds through syndicate missions. He took stock of the situation, previously traumatized workers shambling upright like a scene from a cheap vid, pulled out a handgun the size of a Howitzer, and started firing. The first bullet saved Kerry, the round going through the head of Chewed-caramel, which was good as near as Austin figured, because he needed Kerry. For all her faults, she still had value to return. She was an investment of time and energy, and Austin wasn’t the kind of man to leave money on the table.
Austin, Olivia, and Ruby watched the feed as Cay
o and Kerry went back to back. Kerry had grabbed a piece of pipe from somewhere—Austin cringed, as it was a sign of slipshod maintenance, a worker not tidying up their tools, but soon that would all be behind them. He wound up the audio gain on the video, a smile crossing his face. This was like Christmas.
“We need a safe room,” said Cayo on the feed, firing that hand cannon like bullets cost nothing at all. He hit another one of Austin’s workers center-mass, cratering the chest, blood and bone spraying from the back.
“The lab,” said Kerry, swinging her club into the side of another worker’s head, the crunch audible over the link. “We’ll be safe there.”
“Then we go to the lab,” said Cayo, “and wait for re-enforcements.”
Austin smiled wider. In less than three minutes Austin’s team would be at the lair, the facility would be secured by his workers, and he would be able to fuck over the two people who most needed a good fucking over in the whole world. The best part was that they were putting themselves in the prime center of his facility. The heart of his empire. “Ruby,” he said.
“Yeah, boss?”
“You good,” he said, pointing at her severed stump, “to fight?”
She held up her mauled arm. “This? This is nothing. Now, the accident where I had to get the meat replaced? That was something. This is just an evening in the shop.” She hauled out her PAGE SMG. “I think I can still fill enough cubic centimeters with metal hail to get the job done.”
Olivia leaned forward. “This… Cayo?” Austin nodded for her to continue. “Cayo, he looks like a serious case of top-shelf cockface. Lots of metal under that skin.”
“There’ll still be something in there that can bleed,” said Ruby.
“Perfect,” said Austin. Because it was. Time to get this done.
• • •
The outside of the lair was as he’d left it, with the addition of a couple of Reed APCs. The heavy machines were standing empty, the body of an armored Reed soldier next to one. His throat had been chewed out. In front of him were the bodies of five—five! such a waste of resources—of Austin’s workers in various stages of dismemberment-by-firearm.
“I think,” said Austin, “we just follow the trail of bodies.”
“Like breadcrumbs,” said Ruby.
“You guys go first,” said Olivia, and Austin admired her prudence. She didn’t have any combat tech, and it wouldn’t do for his life journalist to go down like a cup of cold vomit on the eve of his victory.
“Just keep recording,” said Austin. “This will be the best show on Earth.”
“Actually I could use a hand,” said Ruby, holding up her stump. “When I run dry, you hold up another mag so I can slot it in.”
“Won’t I be next to where all the gunfire is going?” said Olivia.
“Keep my ammo stocked and there won’t be gunfire,” said Ruby. “Safest seat in the house.” She nodded to Austin. “They’ll be trying to kill this guy as a point of high priority. You and me? We’re just a dessert after the main course.”
“Let’s go get some dinner then,” said Austin. They walked to the main doors of the lair, Ruby taking the lead, Olivia just behind holding spare magazines clutched in her hands, and Austin at the rear. He had his gold Glock held low and ready. He kept the other two in on the link feed, cameras relaying the interior of the facility. Everything was still coming through crystal clear except for the lab and clean room; the cameras were down there, no doubt taken out by Kerry or Cayo.
Inside the entrance area—where they’d all met not too long ago—there were still some bloodstains on the carpet, which was expected. Two Reed soldiers were backed against the far wall, ready to surprise them. Ruby strode into the room like she owned the place—a possible management position might be in her future—and pointed the PAGE SMG at the first one. The weapon hammered into the soldier, dropping him like yesterday’s newsreel. The other soldier fired on her, but she was moving fast and low, the rounds missing. The loss of balance from the missing arm didn’t seem to bother her at all, which spoke of excellent tech. One of the bullets hit the screen mounted on the wall, a shower of glass and electronics hailing out.
That screen had cost money. Austin raised the Glock, not even bothering with the overtime. He selected three-round burst over the Glock’s hard link, then lined the soldier’s head up. The Glock barked, three bullets firing so fast it sounded like a single noise, and the soldier’s helmet popped off. Another burst, and the head exploded in steaming chunks, the body toppling to the ground.
The next room was the packing facility, cameras showing a sniper nested in the far corner. It was a stupid move, because while the room was longer, it also had plenty of cover from packing pallets and conveyor machines. It also had a highly pissed off Ruby Page, who didn’t even bother with the cover. She hit the entrance door at a run, a round punching through the wood laminate in her wake. Big hole. .50 calibre, definitely. Austin watched as she cartwheeled through the air, her PAGE gun firing across the room, making the Reed soldier’s body jerk and spin before it fell to the ground next to his dropped rifle. She paused, SMG smoking, then said, “Magazine.”
“What?” said Olivia, following with a little more caution. “Oh. Right. Here.” She held out a fresh magazine as Ruby ejected the spent one to clatter on the floor.
“As we know,” said Austin, pointing to the exit door, “through there is the corridor to the clean room, and the lab. The cameras are out. We’re going in blind. Cayo will be waiting. He’ll want blood.”
“Good talk,” said Ruby, eyes bright. “He’s in the way of my paycheck.” She cast a gaze towards the fallen sniper. “Let’s hope he provides a little more excitement than these clowns. I mean, a sniper rifle? In here? He wanted to get himself killed.”
“Cayo is unlikely to be so… careless,” said Austin. “He is a full company enforcer. An asset acquisitions specialist. He’s been promoted.”
“He’s just waiting for his exit interview,” said Olivia, tapping a magazine against her thigh. “That’s all.”
“Indeed,” said Austin. “Let’s finish this.”
• • •
The clean room was a trap, plain and simple. Inside, Cayo would be waiting for them. Or possibly Kerry, but she wasn’t weapons-grade enhanced. If Austin was holding the decision-making spot in that duo, he’d have both of them ready. With that in mind, he went in side by side with Ruby. He went right, she went left, and they both had guns raised.
As they rushed through the doors and were met with:
First, Bad News™. Austin tried to trigger overtime, but the system curled and snarled inside him, refusing to come online. He’d used it a little too much for it to work anymore, which was not just unpleasant but potentially fatal.
Second, Kerry, immediately to the right, pipe in hand. In a normal altercation Austin would have shot her with the Glock and taken a bow, but with overtime still snarling across his link in a series of false starts, he was caught flat-footed. The pipe she swung at him took the Glock clean out of his hand, and her backswing—surprising them both—hit him upside the head. He felt stunned, falling back against the wall.
Third, Cayo, a company enforcer jacked up and good to go. Ruby was raining death hail on his position, but it was like she was shooting at smoke. The man twisted out of the way of the bullets, that hand cannon firing just once back at her. The round pierced her stomach, exiting out her spine, pieces of metal and bone and blood (surprisingly little meat) spraying the wall behind her. She dropped like a sack of puppies into a river, her expression shocked. Cayo’s next shot took off her other arm, the PAGE SMG falling to the ground. Ruby continued to look shocked, still alive but immobile and weaponless. “Ah,” she said.
“Ah,” agreed Cayo, striding towards them. He pointed his gun at Ruby’s head. “This is how it ends for you.”
“Uh,” said Austin, drawing a frown from Cayo. “Cocoa?”
The gun moved to cover Austin, moving slowly, like it didn’t
want to. Like it really just wanted to end Ruby. But Austin didn’t want that; she’d proven herself a little more valuable than the average worker. She could be fixed, but only if she had a brain left in her head. “What is it, Ainley?”
Austin eyed Kerry, the woman backing away from him. “You probably think you’ve won.” He put a hand behind him, preparing to rise. The Glock was five meters away; it may as well have been on Mars.
“Uh uh,” said Cayo. “Stay down, Ainley.” He thought for a bit. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t just end you right now.”
“Well,” said Austin, “I can think of two reasons.”
Cayo regarded him, that damn eyepatch making him look a pirate caricature. “Two? Only two? That’s not a good bargaining position.”
“Eh,” said Austin, moving his hand side to side—so-so. “When your chips are big, you only need one or two.”
“Big?” said Cayo. “You look pretty small from up here.”
“Sure, sure,” said Austin. “Well, the first reason is that Reed sent you here to recover the other part of my technology. You know. The workers. You don’t have it yet, or you’d have just shot me and thrown my body in a dumpster.”
“There is that,” agreed Cayo. “What’s the other reason?”
“It seems foolish to mention,” said Austin, “as someone like you should have guessed by now.”
“What,” said Cayo, his victory smile becoming a little more fixed, “is the second reason, Ainley?”
“You really should be wondering,” said Austin, “why Kerry isn’t in my grill about now.”
He watched as Cayo processed that, the man’s refresh rate not really up to the job. At about the time the ah hah! moment crossed his face, and he started to turn around, Kerry’s pipe hit him in the side of the head. It didn’t hit with the force she’d nailed Austin with; it hit with the force of a human who’s overrides had been removed. The same sort of strength mothers used to drag a car off their trapped child. Cayo stumbled, his handgun suddenly indecisive, waving through the air, seeking targets.