by Simon Cantan
Kyra felt a piece slice her arm, searing her with heat. She looked around desperately. There were only bottles of booze and a few cabinets.
A piece of flak hit her in the thigh. If she stayed, the mercs could just keep firing until they opened her up like a sieve.
Kyra yanked a cupboard open, swept the bottles out of it and climbed inside. She crammed into the tiny space and closed the door.
Flak rattled against the door of the cabinet for another two minutes. Finally, the shots dried up.
Kyra opened the door a crack and looked out. A carpet of flak covered the floor. She rolled out onto it, crumbling it under her.
"Do you think we got her? I can hear her moving around," a voice asked.
"If we didn't, she's seriously fucked up. Come on, let's finish this."
Flak had reduced the bottles around her to shards. Kyra yanked open another cabinet and looked through it. Inside, she found a small knife, a plate of lemons and a squeezable drinks bottle. Kyra twisted the top off the bottle, cut the lemons and began grinding the juice into the bottle.
The footsteps got closer.
"You go check," one of the mercs said. "I'll cover you."
"Seriously?" the other asked.
"I called it."
There was a growl. "Fucking fine, but I'm taking all the credit for killing her."
"Partial credit."
Kyra heard boots getting close, crunching on the flakes of flak that had bounced further out. She rammed the top on the bottle and put her back to the bar.
Above her, the barrel of a gun appeared.
Kyra leapt up and sprayed the bottle of lemon juice into the wide eyes of the merc standing there. Then she turned and threw the small knife overhand at the other merc, hitting him in the throat.
He dropped his gun and put his hands up to his neck, gurgling blood. The merc she'd sprayed stumbled backwards, holding his gun and trying to see. He fired blindly in her direction, blasting the wall above her.
"Hey now, don't be bitter," Kyra said, ducking back behind the bar. She searched the floor around her and found the broken neck of a bottle. Holding it tight, she crawled to the end of the bar and ran out.
The lemon merc rubbed his eyes, trying to see her. He aimed in her direction and fired, but the shot went wide.
Kyra dropped her bottle neck and grabbed a table at the base. Heaving it up, she used it a shield, running towards the merc. Flak fire hit the wood, knocking holes through it and spraying around her.
She ran faster. The table hit something with a whump. Kyra dropped it and looked down to see the merc lying prone.
He glared at her with red eyes and tried to bring his gun up.
Kyra lifted the table and rammed the edge into his stomach.
The wind left his lungs in a rush and the gun wavered.
Kyra grabbed the barrel and yanked it from his hands, throwing it away. She turned and spotted the other merc, still scrabbling at the knife in his throat. She dashed to him and grabbed the knife, wrenching it sideways through his jugular.
The merc's neck sprayed blood upwards in spurting jets that rained down all around them. He fell to his knees, his hands trying to keep his lifeblood in.
"Sorry, you didn't make the cut," Kyra said, kicking him onto his back. She turned with the knife held ready.
The other merc struggled to his feet and staggered back a few steps. He dropped into a martial arts stance, squinting at her. "Ooooaahhhh!"
"I've seen Bruce Lee movies, dude. You aren't him," Kyra said, striding for the merc.
The merc backed away from her. "Heeeooooaaaahhh!"
"I can make this fast or slow," Kyra said. "Either way it's likely to be painful."
The merc scrambled away. He fell over a chair and stumbled back to his feet. His eyes flew wide in panic.
Kyra sighed and followed him, her knife still ready.
The merc found an open space in front of the window and apparently some courage. He stopped, swiped the edge of his nose with his thumb and beckoned to her.
Kyra sprinted at him, her arms wide. She saw the shock in his face as she shoulder-tackled him in the stomach. Kyra drove him into the open airlock beside the window. She slammed him into the outer airlock door and dropped him. Kyra skipped backwards, pushing the inner door closed.
The merc scrambled to his feet, throwing himself against the inner door.
Kyra slapped the cycle button, and the inner door sealed shut. The air began to hiss from the airlock.
"Hey wait. You don't have to do this," the merc said. "I just did this for the money. I just want to go back to Earth..."
The air grew too thin for him to talk. He managed to mouth the word, Please.
Kyra gave him a bye-bye wave as the outer airlock door opened.
The merc flew out into space, launched out with the trace atmosphere still left in the airlock.
Kyra walked around to the giant window and watched the merc struggling out in space.
His hands pulled at his throat. His legs kicked out at vacuum. It only took seconds for him to stop moving. His body drifted down towards Earth, the blue Atlantic ocean bright behind him. She watched until his corpse became a dot, and then disappeared altogether.
"Breathtaking," Kyra said.
As the adrenaline from the fight faded, she realised her legs felt wet. Looking down, Kyra saw blood running from a dozen cuts on her legs. Most of them were minor, but one of them was bleeding badly. The table she'd used as a shield hadn't covered her legs.
She pulled up her ReadyNet and scanned for the medbay. Ripping the fabric of the legs of her jumpsuit, she found the deepest wound. She wrapped her ripped jumpsuit around the cut as tightly as she could and started to walk. A dribbling trail of red followed her from the room.
Chapter 9
RECOVERY
Kyra followed the blinking arrows to medbay. She grew less and less cautious the dizzier she felt. If she didn't hurry, she'd die of blood loss. She put her hands to her leg, and they came away slick and red. She smeared the blood on a nearby wall, trying to clean her palms. Reaching the medbay, she stumbled inside, feeling queasy.
The medbay was bright and airy. Equipment hummed under the glowing lights, ready to operate.
Kyra pulled herself onto the operating table and dragged the attached monitor to her. Turning off all the anaesthetics, she targeted her legs and set the table to work.
Two robotic arms rotated from under the table and grabbed her legs, holding them still. Another emerged from the end of the table with a scalpel in its metal fingers.
Kyra looked around for anything else to focus on. A poster on the wall warned against the dangers of sex in zero gravity. Kyra tried to concentrate on its warnings of floating globules. Even through the remaining haze of alcohol, she felt the sharp blade cut into her leg. She yelped and bit her lip.
The knife worked its way along her legs, opening up dozens of cuts and removing the last of the legs of her jumpsuit. The arm retreated and returned with a tiny pair of pliers. It zipped up her legs, tweezing out flak and throwing it across the room. The flak pinged into a metal container on a nearby counter.
Kyra tried not to watch the arm work. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the picture of her daughters. She studied their faces, as she had a thousand times before. She knew every crease of their smiles, every glint in their eyes.
The robot arm finished and withdrew again, returning this time with a tube of liquid. It applied the tube to the largest cut first, and then held the sides of the wound closed for a moment. The liquid stung, burning into Kyra's leg.
Kyra cried out and felt tears run down her cheeks. "When you're finished, I'm going to feed you to the garbage disposal," she growled through gritted teeth.
The table beeped, the monitor glowing red. It had a low level AI, but it had to treat her, no matter what she said. The two arms let go of Kyra's legs and withdrew.
Kyra got to her feet and tested her legs. The bonding liquid still b
urned, but her legs weren't leaking any more.
Crisis dealt with, Kyra searched the room. Her gaze lingered on the wide trail of blood leading straight to the table. Anyone crossing that would have no trouble following it all the way to the medbay.
Kyra hobbled to the door, pushing into the frame and listening to the corridor outside. She heard the kind of silence that contains a person. She waited.
A gun barrel nuzzled its way through the door. A head followed after, glancing around.
Kyra punched the merc in the nose, seized the side of his neck and threw him to the ground.
He slammed down on his back and slid to the table, his head hitting it with a bong.
Kyra jumped on his chest, grabbed his head with both hands and rammed it back into the table again. This time it rang with a louder bong. She snatched the man's gun and threw it out the door.
The man grunted and pushed her off him.
Kyra rolled away from him and back to her feet. She slipped a little in her own blood but quickly recovered.
The man smiled at her. His head dripped blood onto his shirt, his blood mingling with hers. He blew Kyra a kiss.
Kyra charged at him, screaming. She struck up under his chin with the heels of her hands, driving him backwards.
The merc fell onto the table, with Kyra on top of him.
Kyra slammed the table monitor at random.
Robotic hands flew out and held the merc down. The man struggled against them. "Hey, let me out of this thing."
Kyra jumped off him and pulled the monitor to her. She scrolled through the menus until she found, 'Delirium'. Anaesthetic options appeared. Kyra selected, 'Inhalation sedation'.
A robotic arm rotated out of the head of the table with a long tube and a mask. The merc squirmed, trying to break free. The arm was insistent, plugging the mask over his mouth and nose.
Kyra found the gas level on the monitor and cranked it up.
"The others are coming. They're going to fucking kill you, little girl," the merc growled.
"Sure, just like you and your seven buddies did. Go to sleep, little boy."
The PA crackled. "Sergeant Sarin, this is Baltasar Kemke. Please pick up the nearest communications unit."
"Fuck you, nipple scrape," Kyra said.
"Now, now," the PA said. "The panel is on the wall behind you."
Kyra glared at the ceiling, spotting a camera in the corner.
"Behind you," the PA insisted.
Kyra looked around and found the panel - a basic video comms unit. She walked over and keyed it on.
Baltasar's face appeared. He was gaunt, with neat brown hair. He stared down his thin nose at her and smiled. "Now, isn't that better?"
"What do you want?" Kyra asked.
"I just wanted to talk to you. We haven't had a chance to introduce ourselves. I'm Baltasar Kemke, the CEO of Kemke Industries, amongst other things."
"Aren't you the head of WikiDeath?"
Baltasar smirked. "One of my more juvenile ventures, but it serves its purpose."
"What do you want, Kemke?"
"You've killed most of my men, Sergeant. I just wanted to tell you that you can stop. We're leaving in ten minutes. We're going to get in our little spaceship and fly away."
"Your plans are complete?"
Baltasar smirked. "I'm going to tell you my plans, am I, Sergeant?"
"I'm going to cram your little spaceship up your skinny ass."
"I might not have many men left, Sergeant, but I have enough. If you try anything, you'll die. I don't want to kill you."
"I'll take you with me," Kyra spat.
"That's not likely," Baltasar said. "You have such loyalty to WeaverCorp, after they've treated you so badly."
"They've kept me alive for five years."
Baltasar nodded. "Almost precisely five years."
"What in the ever loving fuck are you getting at?"
"There's a medical scanner on the counter behind you. Check your brain-stem on the right side. Anyway, I've things to do. Cheerio." The screen went dark.
Kyra looked at the scanner, and then at the merc on the table.
"Heh heh heh," the merc giggled. "Fucking kill you. Kill you fucking, you fucking kill."
"Shut up," Kyra said. She grabbed the scanner and activated it, pressing it to the right side of her neck. She connected her ReadyNet and looked. She couldn't see anything. Just random black and white blobs. She scrolled around the image. She almost went past it, stopping herself just in time. There was a black line on one of the white blobs. She increased the magnification, and the line swam into focus, 'WeaverCorp Model Kyra. Patent 587653245'.
Chapter 10
REVELATIONS
Kyra limped towards the station hub; her hands clasped behind her back. She winced with each step, trying not to tear the bonding glue.
The three remaining mercs were standing in front of the control room. They trained their weapons on her as she approached, their fingers twitching against the triggers of their guns. Baltasar emerged from the door behind them with a wide smile on his face. "I knew you would come. You examined your brain-stem?"
"It doesn't prove anything," Kyra said. "You could have messed with the scanner."
"Of course I could have," Baltasar said. "But I didn't. I have more evidence for you inside the control room. You just have to get by my helpers first."
Baltasar strolled back into the control room, closing the door.
"Mr Kemke ordered us to give you one more chance to walk away," one of the mercs called. "You have five seconds before we start firing."
"I only need one." Kyra whipped the gun from behind her back, brought it to her shoulder and fired three times.
The three men fell to the ground screaming.
Kyra walked to them, her gun ready. She stood over the three writhing men for a moment and smiled.
"You can't have a gun. They're DNA coded," a merc said.
Kyra held her right arm forward into the light. It was thick and muscular, with hair running down it from shoulder to wrist.
"You cut off your own..." the merc said.
Kyra jammed the trigger, riddling the three men with flak fire. She kept going, reducing them to lumps of red mush. Kyra smiled. "Sorry, I had to strong arm you."
She stooped and took the gun from a merc, switching out her ammo clip with the unused one from his. She stepped around the puddles of mess and opened the door to the control room.
Baltasar was inside, studying a row of monitors in front of him. The monitors were filled with images of two women. One of them showed two girls — Kyra's daughters. It was the same picture she had in her pocket.
"Anuradha and Pradeepta Sarin," Baltasar said. "They're in their sixties now. Moved to America, if you can believe that."
"I don't believe any of it."
"Check their names on your ReadyNet. The image search is disabled, but not their names. WeaverCorp only has the rights to the one picture in your pocket."
Kyra pointed her gun at Baltasar, and then keyed up her ReadyNet. She searched for the names he'd told her and found images of two smiling elderly ladies. She ran through their profiles, scanning back in time. The women aged backwards, turning from wrinkled ladies into two young girls that were unmistakably her daughters. "I remember giving birth to them. I remember the birthday parties and the sick days. It's why I had to fight the Xenomigrants — to protect them."
"Their mother died in a car accident. Someone turned off the safeties in a taxi, and it hit her. WeaverCorp bought the rights to her brain. Hers and thousands of other womens'. They used her memories to build yours. Of course, there are gaps, but the human mind will always fill them with something."
"This is just a trick."
"Of course it is," Baltasar said. "A horrible trick WeaverCorp has played on you. I'm here to open your eyes, Kyra. To help you find the truth."
"You tried to kill me," Kyra spat.
Baltasar nodded and grinned. "I did. I hoped you would
survive. I had to test you. You see, I need you, Kyra. You're one in a million. You survive when no-one else can. There's great evil back on Earth, and we need to fight it. With my mind and your body, we can do that. We might even make a lot of money in the process."
"Fuck you, Kemke."
Baltasar sighed. "The ship is leaving in five minutes. If you're on it, I'll take that as a yes. If not, your shuttle will be here in a few hours to take you back to WeaverCorp. Before you make your mind up, though, call Manik."
Baltasar vanished.
Kyra stared at his chair. He was gone. She poked the chair with her rifle and it rocked backwards and forwards.
She opened up a connection to Manik.
He answered in seconds, smiling at her with a gun in his hand. "Hello, Kyra."
"Manik, what's going on?" Kyra asked.
"We're nearly done," Manik said. "Look, Kyra."
Manik spread his video feed out to display the entire room. He was standing in a boardroom. Darshan Kant was sitting at the table with a sheaf of paper in front of him and a pen in his hand. Manana was standing behind him, her gun pressed to Darshan's head.
"I won't sign it," Darshan said.
Manik grinned and sat on the table, waving his gun at Darshan. "Mister Kant, turn and look at Manana."
Darshan swivelled around and stared at Manana standing behind him. Manana took her gun and raised it to her temple, pulling the trigger and sending an arc of brains and blood onto the wall. Manana's body crumpled to the ground.
"What the fuck? Why did she do that?" Darshan spluttered.
"Now that you know we're serious, you should sign the papers, Mister Kant," Manik said.
"This won't hold up in court. I'm under duress," Darshan said.
Manik shrugged. "Just sign them."
Darshan licked his lips and clutched the pen. With a shaky hand, he signed the bottom of the papers.
"Good." Manik shot Darshan in the head.
Manik closed the video off again, until Kyra could only see him. "Kyra, Baltasar is a great man. He's going to do incredible things, and he needs your help to accomplish them. Please join him."
Manik raised his own gun to his head and pulled the trigger. The ReadyNet connection vanished.