Ragnarok

by Ari Bach

  “Irasshaimase! Only 100 steps to go! Do you not liking to climb so much?” It went on, playing out in broken English designed to instill a deceptive feeling of superiority in tourists.

  Every step creaked slightly, all cantilevered out from the main hull, a deep weathered wooden shell that held the lower innards of the city. Employee housing, storage, and the like. At 214 steps they came to the guardhouse and weapons check. A guard gave them all a quick scan, their armor hid everything they had kept, and he waved them on. A small traffic jam waited at the top few steps. In the confusion and crowding, they called in their Tikaris.

  Nelson was on the spot. Swooping down to the level of the crowd’s feet. He flew in and adeptly dodged all the moving legs on his way to Violet. He made it from the low air to her palm in seconds flat, where she holstered her microwave and allowed Nelson back into her chest. Vibeke’s Tikari flew in next. As skilled as Nelson, it darted between oblivious bystanders and dropped her microwave directly into its holster before climbing into the vent on her armor.

  Sal, Veikko’s Tikari, was slightly weighed down from holding both boys’ microwaves. He aimed straight for foot level but drooped and stuck his front right wing into the wooden step with a quiet thud. His legs were holding the microwaves, so he tried to swing them up onto the deck to free his limbs. It worked too well and threw Varg’s microwave directly into the small of a guard’s back. The guard turned and looked, but luckily saw nothing at eye level.

  Sal pushed his way loose and went for the microwaves. Veikko’s was easy to find, but Varg’s had bounced off the guard and was lying in the busy walkway. Sal rushed toward it. He tried to grab it but accidentally grabbed the trigger and gave a tourist a hot foot. As the tourist shouted and ran, Sal picked up the second microwave and darted for Veikko.

  He smacked into the side of Veikko’s head and knocked him into Violet, then went for Veikko’s chest before handing over the microwaves. Varg’s fell and landed directly in his hand, while Veikko’s was stuck awkwardly half out of his chest. He quickly removed and holstered it and checked around to make certain nobody had seen the fiasco. Aside from a shouting tourist and a confused guard, they were safe. They stepped up to the deck.

  It was loud. Thousands of voices mashed into one chattering buzz. It was bright. Even after they dimmed the link labels, there were neon labels on half the buildings, talking moving posters on others, vibrant floating ad-bots, and shouting marketers on stilts between kiosks. The place didn’t look all that different from the worst of the Nikkei—utterly stuffed with shops, stores, malls, swap meets, kiosks, bathhouses, miniplazas, sales centers, eateries, and the occasional wholesaler. Between these structures, where normally would have been streets or paths, were pedestrians crammed shoulder to shoulder, not so much like sardines as carbon atoms.

  Up close the urban sprawl was even more impressive, built up to give the effect that they stood, as they approached the main road, in the middle of a valley. Especially in the center, wooden shops on stilts on other shops rose almost all the way to the canopy itself. Giant lamps of old Asian design lit the shadows and tinted the last neutral colors into more brown woodiness. They could smell the fishmonger forest, though the link said it was still far away. Flyers for wig shops and porn haunts stuck to their boots. Various food courts belched their odors onto the plaza, hoping to lure a hungry patron, odors that soaked into every last raw cherrywood wall.

  Another grasshopper Tikari floated briefly before them, then flew up top to direct their eyes to the restaurant where W team waited. All W team had their Tiks in orbit, blending in perfectly with the air traffic of ad-bots and security cameras. Vibeke’s parking hack announced that the Yak had arrived at the dock clockwise from their own. Violet spotted a perfect place to see the incoming mobster, a flat-topped building high up the outer mountain range.

  Not to risk anyone seeing their microwaves, they climbed a series of gutters, slant roofs, scaffolding, and open windows to make the spot. The crowd on every level of the hill was too distracted to notice their abridged ascent between walkways, and the target building was a bookstore so it had nobody outside to watch them arrive.

  Looking down over the edge, they saw the guardhouse crowd. Violet sent her Tikari back out to survey it for Yakuza ink. Nelson spotted not only Shika but two other Yakuza. None of the three spoke to each other, but one raised an Alopex alert. He was already labeled from an old N team mission, Shiro, an oyabun. Leader of an entire family. Vibeke sent out her own Tikari to keep an eye on him. Veikko put his on the last. Widget linked in.

  “We’ve got a guy named Ota, two Tiks on him and his guards. He’s the head of Aizukotetsu-kai, master of all the Yaks in space. We’ve got a few more previously labeled members, mostly lieutenants.”

  “And, Veikko,” added Wart, “guess who I spotted?”

  “Who?”

  “Hokkaido Joe!”

  “Lovely,” muttered Veikko. Project Nepenthe had introduced Veikko to the most annoying, irritating, despicable loudmouthed bastard in the history of the Yakuza. For hours of the mission, he’d kept the man’s company, waiting for him to spill the beans on who manufactured the memory drug, and he gave up nothing. Not because he was being careful, not because he didn’t know, but because the squeaky voiced idiot had to talk about every damn irrelevant subject in his tiny brain at every chance he got. He even bragged about losing a pinky for it. Veikko finally snapped and killed the bastard, dragged him back to the ravine, and hacked him posthumously to get the information. He was livid to discover Niide resurrected him, and Balder sent him back to Nippon before the Yakuza noticed he was missing. Mission appropriate, but Veikko really, really wanted Joe to stay dead.

  Once on the main street, a pattern formed among the Yakuza. The first few met with another tattooed batch, and more and more, like drips on leaves falling into a common river of Yakuza, flowing straight for the meeting place. V team followed from the rooftops, working their way toward a degraded district of rotting wood and rotting moral fiber. Disney stores gave way to porn stores, porn stores gave way to dissident stores, and in the deepest reaches of the capitalist meadow, the herd of Yaks came to a stop in one unlabeled barn that the Ukiyo denizens seemed to avoid.

  MOST OF the team kept their Tikaris back from the entrance. They were small but not invisible. Violet sent hers to the ceiling, where it deployed a tympanum to the surface and got echoey but discernible results, or at least it would when the crowd grew silent. Vibeke kept hers aloft to spot newcomers, and Veikko’s mantis took to the walls of the shed opposite the target. Varg’s still remained stuck to his person.

  The influx of Yakuza slowed, then stopped. There were some untattooed men but no Cetaceans. Silence descended over the table within. Violet linked audio to her team and W.

  “Ohayo gozaimasu! Oshi will speak first, for Zaibatsu.”

  “Respected brothers and Cetacean representatives, we have the ultimatum from the executive board. We are willing to proceed without the naval concessions.”

  An uproar sounded in several languages. Violet couldn’t make much out of the rabble, but she caught basic snips of “Bullshit,” “Fucking Bullshit,” and “Motherfucking Bullshit” from the loudest screamers. When the outrage calmed down, Oshi spoke again.

  “It is Zaibatsu’s intent to trade the—”

  More shouts and jeers sounded. Zaibatsu was, in effect, selling the Yakuza out. They would still do all the work and take all the risk, but other Zaibatsu companies would reap the benefits. Oshi began again when the crowd ceased.

  “The Yakuza will have a navy! We will, in time, control the seas—Sorry, the surface of the seas, for Zaibatsu, but we will do so with a fleet produced by Stechrochen GmbH. To our specifications, with the liquid funds acquired from the Cetacean deal.”

  Mumbles sounded from the crowd instead of angry cries.

  “As this is an internal matter for Zaibatsu,” continued Oshi, “I assume your friends underwater will not object?”

&nbs
p; “Captain Pluturus will be advised,” called one of the crowd. “But I expect he’ll be pleased.”

  “Thank you, Kansha. Masamune will now address those present.”

  After a moment, Masamune began. “Ohayo Gozaimasu, to address Oyabun Ota and Oyabun Shiro: Randaquivila has loaded a blocked partition in my brain with the technical specifications for the transpor—”

  He was interrupted. There was more mumbling, then shouting from elsewhere in the room.

  “One representative!” Veikko recognized Hokkaido Joe’s voice. “You said just one! Who’s he?” Sounds of a fight broke out, more indistinct shouting. Then Joe screamed in his most aggravating voice, “He’s not with the sashimi! He’s a spy! He’s a spy, spy boy spy! Break his link! He’s a spy!”

  V team prepared to move. Veikko linked to W team, “Expect break, you stay high, we stay low. Girls on spy, boys on Masamune.”

  A fight was breaking out below. Violet’s Tikari picked up microwave fire, then extensive microwave fire. A man with a burned face bolted from the building, chased by several Yakuza. Violet quickly sorted out their priorities. Save the spy from the Yak stampede. Follow the spy. Determine loyalty, motive, threat, potential as ally or threat. Act accordingly.

  Veikko and Varg would be capturing and hacking Masamune with Walter and Wart. New team: Violet and Vibeke on the ground, Widget and Weather in the sky. Vibeke linked out to all.

  “I’ll keep V’s pogo. Boys take W’s.”

  Wart sent out a link dump to Valhalla of the meeting and important points. Violet called her Tikari off the roof and told it to follow the burnt man. Vibeke sent hers straight down through the roof of the building on which they were perched. As Violet darted away to follow the spy from the rooftops, Vibs looked around the room. It was emptied of people. She scanned for combustibles; there were none. She had to work fast. She stood and leaped to the next building after Violet. The Tikari kept scanning. There was a boiler. It would have to do. Her Tikari landed on it, and she told the wings to superheat as it crawled up toward the valves. It clamped the valves closed, and she put the wings on overload for a few seconds, then let it make an escape.

  As Vibs hit the next building, the boiler exploded and sent the wall crashing down on several pursuing Yakuza, blocking the path for more. She figured five stopped, twenty slowed. A good start and an unseen cause. They’d assume the spy had grenades. Their resulting caution would slow them further. Violet could see the burnt man clearly from her Tikari if not the rooftops. She let it fly on its own. It was hard enough to look through the bug and run at the same time, let alone over slanted, patched, and duct-laden ceilings. She leaped to a third and knocked a panel loose. Her foot fell right into an attic and caught as she pulled it out. She didn’t fall, but it was getting problematic.

  Vibeke was close behind but moving slower, falling back briefly to tractor any debris she could into the way of the remaining Yaks. She caught a straggler on the head and tripped up two more, but there were still four hot on his tail. It would have to do. She couldn’t risk hitting a front-runner and revealing herself to the Yakuza. Violet kept ahead, making good time on the rooftops and staying even with the target. Her Tikari stuck to him and two Tiks from above, W team’s, stayed high to offer maps. Widget rang in.

  “He’s sticking left, likely heading to the center. Could have headed outwards by now.”

  Weather added, “Not hearing any links out of him, nothing incoming. If he has backup, they’re keeping quiet.”

  VEIKKO AND Varg had stationed themselves on the roof of the original meeting. Audio yielded nothing about what was happening inside. They’d seen two major entourages escape, but both carried old link labels, all men protecting their family heads. None named Masamune. He was still inside with—Wart linked his estimate—twelve men.

  Veikko linked to Varg for real-world cover and lay down on the roof. He went netside and felt around in the building. Four signatures he could tap, more he couldn’t be sure of. These Yaks were highly secured. He couldn’t get names on any of the few he could even be sure existed. He pushed Alopex’s denuding routines in and could see a few more men, but it was clear a hack was hopeless. Even if he could find Masamune, his internal wetware would be even tougher. They weren’t going to hack him without a cerebral bore on his head.

  Veikko burst out of immersion, and Varg knew what that meant. He took a concussive charge from his back and set it on the roof, five seconds. They ran and leaped over to a scaffold on the adjacent building. Peering down, they saw the charge go off and collapse the roof. Two men left the building. Veikko put his Tikari on them for a moment before Walter’s arrived to see them out. If one was Masamune, Walter would take him. But that was unlikely; he’d have more protection. Varg took the lead and jumped down into the hole.

  He landed flat on one Yakuza, knocking him out. He could see eight. He couldn’t see the ninth because the other eight were protecting him. Very likely that was their man. He linked out for backup. Wart’s Tikari arrived first with Veikko’s, which stabbed the first Yak to raise a sword. Varg in kind unfurled his Tikari and let it assemble into a long blade. Veikko landed. Four Tikari and two Valkyries against eight Yakuza and target. Easy day.

  VIOLET SAW the spy run up a flight of rickety stairs and into an unlabeled building. It was hard to tell where one building ended and the next began. So cramped and complex were the walls, he could have just run into a single room or a massive complex. The bundle of shacks had too many exits to trust. She had to follow him in. She kept her Tikari low to the ground and sent it crawling in, then took a low stance herself outside the door.

  The Tikari sent back scans and video: it was a bathhouse, foggy and hot. Numerous baishunfu and customers. Even more potential escape routes. Violet glanced from customer to customer. Most were looking bewildered toward the northern door. The Tik went north. Another room, four doors, one woman looking toward the western. She went for it. A long hallway, numerous doors, and no customers. One door was broken, however, the last one. He didn’t know the layout. He was just trying to lose the tails.

  Weather rang in by link, “End door leads outside, saw him dash through an alley into a kitchen. Heavies threw him out of the kitchen. Headed center again from the next road.”

  Violet sent her Tikari out the door and up to watch while she headed back into the fold. She jumped down from the bathhouse entrance and almost landed on Vibs. They were both headed to the alley corner. Violet’s Tikari caught sight of the target again but had difficulty maintaining a lock on him—he was headed through a crowded and canopied section of food court. And they weren’t the only ones who saw him. Few of the following Yaks were still following, but one woman was well ahead of the pack and listening out for links so broadly all the Valkyries heard her.

  Shika heard the kitchen security linking out and knew it was her man. She knew the restaurant. It was near the core of the city. He was heading inward. Likely reason to head toward the core—to get to the canopy.

  “Usagi,” she linked, “bring the pogo over to the top. Let it rest on the canopy. If you see a burnt man emerge, tranq him and pick him up. I’ll follow.”

  “Roger roger!” she linked back. She linked back unsecured.

  Vibs heard it and linked to their own pogo. She didn’t bring it out of the water yet but powered up the systems.

  Shika cursed Usagi’s name. The link had come back without a security signature. It was open. Best to leave the ditz out of it and take the man while he was still in the city. He was emerging from the crowd and running up stairs to a mezzanine. She knew the place. Long stairs, elevator closer to her position. She let the two other followers run past her to chase the man up the stairs and headed for the elevator. Slow elevator, but she wasn’t going to call the thing. It was in the down position. She took a running leap and clawed up on top of it, then kicked her way up to the next level with enough force to break open the door. A few noncombatants ran. She headed for the stairs.

  The tw
o other remaining Yakuza chasers tried frantically to get through the crowd. Violet and Vibeke were right over them. They’d lost one, but the remaining man would be an easy takedown. Out of sight so intervention at that point was best. Widget confirmed their man was nearing the top of the stairs. They could catch up. Both jumped and took down their respective Yaks. They hit their heads hard on the floor as a few civilians looked on. Vibeke would deal with the bodies and give them some stun juice. Violet headed for the stairs.

  Just as she reached the bottom of the case, she saw the burnt man running back toward her. He was coming down the stairs, and his good eye looked scared as hell. He paused and saw her. He must have recognized her as a threat because he halted. Glanced back up, then jumped down from the middle of the flight into a chicken coop. Vibs was closer now. She finished her stuns and followed him.

  Violet suddenly saw why he had jumped. Why he was coming back her way. At the top of the steps was a very mean-looking Yakuza woman. Probably the last Yak on his tail. An angry, cold-looking woman whose glare struck Violet strangely for a common combatant. She knew this one would be trouble.

  Exactly what Shika was thinking. The lady at the bottom of the stairs had armor on, camo armor. Must have been working with the spy. Good prospect for fucking up badly and torturing the answers out of. Shika knew other Yakuza would find the spy, but nobody else was looking for this girl. And Shika had the high ground. She drew her swords.

  Violet recalled her Tikari. She could see a microwave on the Yakuza’s hip and could have drawn her own, but the swords were a clear message—they could shoot various conflicting beams at each other for half an hour with no clear result, or they could settle it now and settle it fast. As Vibeke ran past a cloud of feathers to follow the spy, Violet grabbed her knife from the air and began walking up the wooden stairs. She knew how to use the low ground to her advantage, and she knew the appearance would make her opponent overconfident. Shika brandished her swords and headed slowly down. Numerous men from a nearby kyabakura stood on a porch to watch and make bets.