Fin

by Larry Enright

  It seemed so long ago but Fin did remember. How could he not? It was one of his last cases: six million in untraceable counterfeit credits confiscated, a million of those missing, presumed stolen by someone working at the SIA.

  “That idea of yours to mark the evidence paid off in spades,” said Clayborn. “Murph and Stein caught the bastards red-handed. It was Kelly all along. He was the ringleader. He’s already dimed out four others. That was some nice work, Blue. Even the commander said so.”

  “I don’t suppose he would consider taking me back?"

  “What do you think?”

  “I think they should fill the vacancies I created with more Violet series Cybernites.”

  “Come on, Blue. That’s water under the bridge.” Clayborn cleared his throat. “I heard you got a job at a factory or something. How’s that working out for you?”

  “Fine. I met your new partner.”

  “I heard. Violet’s good, but not like you. You were one clever son of a gun, Blue, a hell-of-a detective. Too bad you were such a loose cannon. You know those leaks?”

  Fit sat up straight. “You found the mole?”

  “No. I was just wondering if you still gave a crap about anything, ‘cause you sure as hell don’t look like you do.”

  “Oh.” Fin slumped back against the wall.

  “Violet’s all over it though. She’s fed us some pretty good leads, but so far nothing’s panned out. We’re still bleeding agents, Blue.”

  Fin looked around the empty apartment. “Winter is coming,” he whispered. “There must be death for the world to be reborn.”

  “Say what?”

  “It's from The Word. Dr. Shepherd used to quote it. It was one of his favorite lines. I have not seen him in . . . forever.” Fin licked his lips. “How is he?”

  “Same as always: old and rich.”

  “I just needed a little more time, sir.”

  “That’s the story of my life,” Clayborn said. “Listen, I’m going to step outside and find some water to wash this shit off my hand. There’s someone here who’d like to have a word with you.”

  Clayborn left. Nova came into the apartment. The neatly pressed uniform of an SIA agent looked good on her. Fin had always thought the uniform suited him as well but that seemed like so long ago. He looked away.

  “God, it stinks in here,” she said. “Air. Maximum.” When there was no response, she repeated the command to the Homecom.

  “It's disconnected,” Fin said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Where have you been, Fin? I haven’t seen you in weeks.”

  “Why would you want to?”

  “I was worried about you.”

  “You mean Mama was worried?”

  “Maybe."

  “She put you up to this, didn’t she?”

  Nova shrugged. “She’d have the entire SIA looking for you if she could. Damn, Fin, you look terrible.”

  “I know.”

  “Did you get a paint job or something? You look more like a Drab than a Blue.”

  “It’s the light.”

  She offered him a Reconstitute bar. “Here. Eat this. You must be starving.”

  He pushed it away. “No, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself. I’ll leave it here for you for later.” She sniffed it, turned up her nose, and set it on the floor beside him. Her gaze wandered around the room, stopping briefly at the scribbled words “Deth to Traytrs” on one of the walls, before fixing on a pile of rags and a bucket of brackish water in the far corner.

  “I am sorry you have to see me like this,” Fin said.

  Nova sighed. “Look, I don’t like this any more than you do. What they did to you was . . . Well, it wasn’t right. But I’m not the one who’s calling the shots. This isn't my fault, Fin.”

  “I never said it was. I do not blame you for what happened, Nova. I blame myself.”

  “Fair enough, but there’s something else that’s been bothering me that I need to get off my chest.”

  “Is it about the mole? Do you need my help?”

  “No, not that. That’s a whole other story. I just wanted to ask you something.” She took a deep breath. “God, this is hard. Look, you saved my butt, Fin, but I can't for the life of me figure out why. Why would anyone be crazy enough to take on three Pasties like that? I mean you had no gun, no weapon at all. They had you outnumbered. They could have killed you. Why did you do it?”

  “I did it for you, Nova.”

  Ben Clayborn burst into the room, clutching a spreading bloodstain on his pantleg. “We’ve got trouble. I was getting off the elevator in the lobby and ran into a gang of Pasties. Could be twenty or thirty of them. I wasted a couple, but they’re packing some big-time firepower.”

  “Are you OK, Ben?” Nova said.

  “Yeah. It’s just a flesh wound."

  “That must be Tork,” said Fin. “You two should leave. Is your Levcar on the roof?”

  Nova said, “We were done for the day. Tactical dropped us up top and dusted off. They’ve got an op on the other side of town. Ben was supposed to call for a lift back to the city when we were done here.”

  Clayborn shoved his Commlink back into his jacket. “E.T.A. a half hour. Damn it. What the hell is this Tork piece of shit doing with that kind of firepower? And what is he so worked up about?”

  “Don’t you remember him from the bar?” said Fin.

  “Can’t say as I do. You Cys all look alike to me.”

  “He was there to kill me because I caused trouble for him with Death’s Door.”

  “Oh, yeah. I remember now. And he’s looking to finish the job?”

  Fin nodded. “You should leave.”

  “What about you?” Nova said.

  “Just go.”

  “I don’t think so." Nova helped Fin stand up. “Give me a hand, Ben,” she said. “My apartment is just down the hall. We can hide there till the cavalry shows up.”

  They carried Fin to Nova’s apartment and laid him on the sofa. When the Homecom detected the stench, it mixed heavy doses of raspberry and quince scents with the air and increased the air circulation to maximum. A cabinet opened in the kitchen and a cleaning disk floated out. It hovered over the sofa where it discharged cleaning fluid onto Fin and began brushing it into his sweatshirt.

  “Knock it off,” Nova said, pushing the disk away.

  It retreated to the cabinet. “I will order a new sofa,” said the Homecom.

  “Great,” she replied. “There goes next week’s paycheck.”

  Her apartment was a double, much like Fin’s in décor and appointments before . . . Fin’s thoughts trailed off as his gaze fixed on a painting of a waterfall hanging in the common room. It was so peaceful, so unreal, so much like the one he had once had.

  “Stay here,” said Clayborn. “And whatever happens out there, you don’t come into the hall. You read me, Violet?”

  “Ben, I've got a camera in the hall. I’ve got a reinforced door with a biometric lock. We can watch them from here.”

  “Just stay put. That’s an order.”

  Clayborn checked his Pulser and stepped into the hallway, walking several doors down to the corner. Nova drew her weapon and listened at the door.

  Footsteps, many heavy footsteps—Fin counted eight pairs—coming down the hall.

  “Stop right there,” Clayborn said. “What do you Pasties think you’re doing?”

  “None of your business,” Tork replied.

  “How about I make it my business? You’re the big dumb ass who went after my partner, aren’t you?”

  “And I’m here to finish the job.”

  “I’m only going to say this once. Drop the guns and get lost, and if I find out you’ve been snooping around here again, you’re dead robots. Understand?”

  “We are not robots,” Fin whispered weakly.

  Nova put her finger to her lips to remind him of the danger they were in.

  They heard the familiar zip of a Pulser cutting through the air and a t
hird voice, deep, rough, unforgiving. “That was your only warning, cop. Lose the gun and if you tell me where Blue boy is, I just might let you live.”

  “No can do, Book,” Clayborn replied. “You’re going to have to pry it from my cold, dead hand.”

  “If you say so.”

  There was a crackle, another zip, a grunt, and a heavy thud.

  “You killed him, Boss,” said one of the gang.

  “He’s not dead, not yet, but he won’t be playing the piano any time soon.”

  “What should we do with him?” Tork asked.

  “Leave him for now. He’s not going anywhere. We’ll pick him up on our way out. He might have something useful we can beat out of him later. Where’s the Blue’s apartment?”

  “Around the corner, Boss,” said Tork.

  “Let’s go. You’ve got some unfinished business, Pasty, or have you changed your mind about coming onboard with us?”

  “No, Boss. I’ll do him this time. I promise. Come on. This way.”

  The gang left. Nova waited until their footsteps receded before going out into the hall. Clayborn was lying facedown on the floor, his cold dead hand beside him on the carpet still clutching his gun. There was blood everywhere, but the heat from the blast had cauterized the wound. She checked for a pulse, then dragged him back into her apartment and locked the door. She called it in on her Commlink.

  “How is he?” Fin asked.

  “Lucky to be alive,” she replied. “His nano-armor stopped the haze from spreading but he’s in shock.” Her Commlink flashed. “The evac team has a med-tech on board. E.T.A. twenty minutes.”

  “Why didn’t you go after them?”

  “Don’t you think I would have if I could, Fin?”

  “He is your partner.”

  “I know that!”

  “Please, don’t shout at me.”

  “I’m sorry. I just don’t like feeling helpless.”

  “You had the element of surprise. A simple wide-angle stun would have disabled them all. It’s a standard tactic.”

  “You don’t know, do you?” she said. “Of course, you don’t. You couldn’t possibly.”

  “Know what?”

  “They keyed my Pulser to Ben’s proximity and physical state. If he’s unconscious or out of range it won’t fire.”

  Fin whispered, “It did when you killed those Whites.”

  She lowered her eyes. “Yeah, I know. When I reported for work the next day, Ben called me into his office. He said the system showed that I’d discharged my weapon three times. I had to tell him.”

  “Why didn’t he fire you?”

  “Fire me? He wanted to give me a medal. He wrote it up as a simple Cy assault, called it self-defense, but when Commander Roberts read the report he had my Pulser rekeyed so it wouldn’t happen again. Ben’s working on having that fixed. He’d rather I kill them all. He doesn’t care. He hates Cys.”

  “Our lives mean nothing to them, Nova.”

  “I’m sorry, Fin.”

  “Don’t be. It is not for me to say what is right or wrong. That is for God to decide. It is just that right and wrong seem so meaningless when no one cares anymore.”

  Nova sat down beside him and took his hand. “Some people still do.”

  “If only we were people.”

  “You are. I mean you look like shit and you smell like a dumpster, but you're more a person than anyone I know, a good person."

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you, Fin.”

  “For what?”

  “For saving me from those Pasties. I wanted to thank you before. I tried. I really did, but the words just wouldn’t come out.”

  “Was it that hard to say?”

  “You have no idea. I was always taught that Cys were just Cys, nothing but rotten, filthy . . .”

  Fin stopped her, “You were not taught that. It was your programming.”

  “I guess you're right, but it’s what humans think.”

  “And they made you just like one, but that is not who you are, Nova. You are one of us. Beneath your programming is a good person.”

  “I’m not a good person, Fin. Far from it.” Her gaze turned to Clayborn lying on the floor beside the hand that still gripped his Pulser. “I shouldn’t have killed those Pasties. It was wrong. They were creeps. They were awful. Maybe they deserved to die, but that wasn’t my call. I’m sorry.”

  Fin patted her hand. “You cannot undo what has been done. You can only make amends.”

  “How? It’s not like I can give them back their lives.”

  “But you can use your position to do the right thing.”

  “I thought you said right and wrong were meaningless."

  “I have been known to exaggerate.”

  She smiled at him. “You’re a piece of work. You know that?”

  “I have been called many things but never that.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head. It wasn’t exactly a compliment.”

  There was a commotion in the hall. Nova switched the security camera feed from her Commlink to the vidscreen. Book and his gang were back. When Book saw that the cop was gone, he cursed and vaporized one of his men. ”Cover the exits,” he shouted. “Check the stairs, the roof, the basement. He couldn’t have gotten far. Find him and the Blue one, too. I want them both alive.”

  “They could be in one of these apartments,” said Tork. “How about we bust down a few doors, flush the rats out?”

  “Good thinking. You take two of the boys and start going door-to-door. Waste anyone who gets in your way. The rest of you get going. If they don’t turn up soon, we’ll burn this block to the ground.”

  The gang began to search. The minutes of waiting passed like hours as Tork worked his way closer to Nova’s door. Her Commlink buzzed.

  “The cavalry's here,” she whispered, “on the roof. They ran into some resistance, but it won’t be much longer.”

  “The big tattooed one, that’s Book,” said Fin. “Make sure they get Book.”

  Nova nodded and relayed the information to the strike team leader. Tork and his companions took off when they heard the shooting. Soon after that, SIA agents and med-techs were at the door. The building was secure. Book had gotten away, but Tork was dead. Nova’s orders were to shelter in place and wait for further instructions. After promising to update her as soon as Agent Clayborn’s condition could be assessed, they left.

  Fin found the strength to sit up.

  “How about a glass of water?” Nova asked.

  “The water has been shut off.”

  “Not here.” She turned on the tap and filled a glass with water. "This place has its own thousand liter storage tank and filtration system. It's got a backup generator, too, in case we lose power. You sure you don’t want some?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself.” She took a sip and poured the rest down the drain. “Are you hungry? You look hungry. Actually, you look like you’re starving to death.”

  “I can't eat.”

  “Fin, you have to eat. You’ll die. How about a Recon bar? I have a couple lying around here somewhere.” She began rummaging around in one of the cabinets. “Ben made me get them. He said SIA trades them for intel from Cys, but all I've ever seen him do is beat the truth out of them. I put them in a sealed bag because they smell so bad. I thought it was in here somewhere, but I don't see it.”

  “I cannot eat that poison.”

  “Really, Fin? I know it’s disgusting, but it’s not poisonous.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  She closed the cabinet door. “Well, looks like I can’t offer you one anyway. How about some real food instead? I know it’s not your usual, but it's all I've got.”

  “You have no other Reconstitute?”

  “Afraid not."

  “What about your monthly allotment?”

  “I would be screaming bloody murder if I ever found Recon in my monthly food box.”

  “But you are a Cybernite.
Reconstitute is what we were designed to eat.”

  “Not me. I don’t eat the stuff. Never have. Never will. Dr. Shepherd insisted on real food for me as a condition of my experiment.” She studied Fin’s reaction. “What’s wrong?”

  “Why would Dr. Shepherd allow me to eat that poison? He must know what’s in it.”

  “I’m sure he does. He was the one who came up with it. That’s why it can’t be poison.”

  “I’ve been eating it for weeks. Look at me. What do you see?”

  His polyclonic bones seemed ready to burst through his flesh. His blue skin was deathly pale and covered with sores. It was all he could do to sit up straight.

  “I see one incredibly emaciated Cy who could use a good meal. Come on, Fin. You need to eat.”

  His sunken eyes focused on her. “What does it matter? What does any of this matter?”

  “Maybe it doesn’t to you, but it matters to me. You matter to me. Look, why don’t you grab a shower? I’ll fix us some dinner, OK? There’s a bathrobe in the closet you can borrow until we can get you something to wear. Throw your dirty things in the hamper.”

  “You do not have to clean my clothes for me.”

  “I'm not planning on it. I’m going to incinerate them later. Do you need help getting to the bathroom?”

  “No."

  “Then get going. I’m hungry.”

  Fin hobbled off to the bathroom. After his shower, he returned to the kitchen. Nova had made soup and a dish of greens for dinner, something light enough for Fin’s distressed digestive system. She also served wine. He at first declined it, but she insisted he at least try a sip.

  “It is delicious,” he admitted.

  “It doesn’t hurt your mouth?”

  “No, the one benefit from my current situation is that my chronic sores have completely healed. I feel no new irritation from this drink. It must be different somehow than what I've had in the past.” He set the glass down. “How did you know?”

  Nova got up to clear away the dishes. “Know what?”

  “About my mouth sores?”

  She paused a moment over the sink staring at the faucet, then turned on the water to begin washing the dishes. “Ben must have mentioned it to me when we were having dinner the other night at a restaurant Downtown. We went out to eat after a really long shitty day.” She turned the water off and began to dry.