Like a Boss

by Adam Rakunas

“I went back to Tanque.”

  She made a face. “How? The outbound buses had stopped.”

  I opened my mouth to say, Letty gave me a ride, and realized I had no idea whose side Soni was on. That made my stomach roil. We had pissed each other off as much as we’d made each other laugh. Maybe more. I could count the people I trusted on one hand, and she was right there. That was before all of this chaos, and I now had no clue where she stood. Was she loyal to Letty? Saarien? The general good? How the hell do you ask your friend if she’s really on your side?

  “I got a lift,” I said.

  “And you didn’t think to call?”

  “Well, Soni, considering how the fire brigade didn’t bother to show up, I wasn’t sure what would happen with the police.”

  She didn’t protest. “Yeah. I’m sorry I couldn’t spare the hands. I had to deal with looting on Kuttner.”

  Now it was my turn to make a face. “There’s nothing but clinics there.”

  Soni sighed and nodded. “A bunch of footie thugs raided the dispensaries. Made off with a whole lot of painkillers. Everyone’s convinced the city’s going to burn and we won’t be able to buy meds for a year. Half my people are just standing guard at every chemist in town.”

  I rubbed my temples. “Soni, what the hell is going on? This apocalyptic crap pops up every now and then, but it’s never more than a dozen people. The whole city’s losing it.”

  She quirked her mouth. “I’m sure you’ve heard about our friend, the Good Reverend Saarien?”

  I nodded. “I even went to see him.”

  Her eyes went wide. “What the hell for?”

  “Because I was helping Keiko Nakamura. Remember her? Runs that omusubi-ya?”

  Soni’s face darkened, and she looked at the EMT. “Would you mind leaving us for a moment?”

  “I have to monitor this guy,” said the EMT.

  “I can handle that.” She jerked her head toward the front of the ambulance. The EMT shook her head, the beads in her cornrows clattering. She threw her hands in the air and climbed into the front, sliding a panel behind her. Soni looked out the back of the ambulance. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go.”

  I cocked my head. “What horrible thing are you not telling me?”

  Soni clacked her teeth. “Did I ever tell you about the night I came to Santee?”

  I wracked my brain for the memory. “No,” I said. “I don’t think you ever have.”

  Soni cleared her throat and settled into her seat. “The last time I was in transit was en route to some job… you know, some shitty colony where I’d do accounting for the next decade before moving on to another assignment. A week out from the Red Line, the ship’s cryo malfunctioned. I woke up, thinking I’d arrived, and then I saw all these bald, angry people standing around in their underpants.”

  “Bald?”

  Soni rolled her eyes. “LiaoCon policy for transit was to shave everyone’s heads. Helped with the hibernant or something. Anyway, the crew tried to keep us in check, but then word got around that the nearest repair ship was eight months out. There wasn’t enough food and water for everyone who was awake. The crew just didn’t care enough to stop their cargo from taking over; they locked themselves in the hold. Everyone started panicking, so, as Senior Managing Accountant, I sat down, did the math and figured the only way out was through. We could stretch the food and water, spend the whole time doing as little as possible to conserve air. Santee was the closest destination, so I sent out a punch probe to let ’em know we were coming, and we jumped.

  “I spent all my time breaking up fights and stopping a couple of suicidal people from venting all of us into space – you know, that old if I go I’m taking everyone with me attitude. The relief ship – a Union one – made it just in time. All of us were glued to the monitors, watching it get closer and closer, just counting the minutes of air and the calories left. Another two hours and we would have been dead.”

  She picked at a fingernail. “Anyway, two years later, we arrive at Santee. I’m still babysitting everyone, playing the go-between, keeping everyone calm. All I could think about was getting off the ship and doing anything that didn’t involve people. I actually got offered a job in Thronehill, but the relief crew had convinced me that the best thing to do was Breach. I went down the cable, slept for a week, then wandered into the Union Hall to declare myself in Breach of my Indenture.”

  She laughed at the memory, a warm smile spreading across her face. “And there’s this cop at the Hall, the precinct lieutenant, a woman named Danai Skalter.”

  “I don’t think I know her.”

  Soni waved a hand. “She had a heart attack the week before you showed up in Brushhead. She was a hard, hard woman. Had the department records for chin-ups and the number of ribs eaten at one sitting. She was standing by the terminal where I got my pai reburned and said, ‘I hear you’re good with people. Thought about becoming a cop?’ And I just laughed. That was the last thing I wanted.

  “But she needled me for weeks until I finally gave in. She swore up and down that I’d never have to sit behind a desk, never lack for action, never have to run spreadsheets again.”

  Soni looked at me. “Do you know what happens when you get promoted to chief of police? It’s nothing but spreadsheets. Payroll. Overtime. Reimbursements. Equipment. I’m an accountant again, and it sucks.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that,” I said, “but I have no idea what it has to do with you not being around when the city needed you now.”

  “Department budgets are disappearing. Not the money, but the actual spreadsheets. Before the Public went out, I lost access to deployment schedules. I couldn’t tell how many officers were on sick leave or vacation or just plain didn’t show up to work. It all sounds like another Ghost Squad action, but…” She gritted her teeth so hard they squeaked. “I think someone in the Union is egging people to strike. I think it’s to cover something up. I don’t know what. I don’t think it’s something like starting a fire on one side of town to distract people from a robbery on the other. It’s bigger and weirder.”

  “Letty Smythe set fire to her building.”

  Soni and I looked down at Onanefe. A great, stoned grin broke across his face. “Padma told me about it.”

  Soni glared at me. “You didn’t think this was pertinent?”

  “I didn’t know whose side you were on until now.”

  Her face fell. “You know, you’ve said a lot of hurtful things to me over the years. I think this tops it.”

  “Well, I’m sorry, but I’ve never had the President of our Union try to kill me before. It’s not like there’s a manual that tells me who I can and can’t trust.”

  She jerked a thumb at her chest. “You can trust me.”

  I pointed at the badge on her blouse. “You? Or that?”

  Soni’s face froze in a mask of rage. Her nostrils flared as she breathed in and out. “You have any idea how many people are in this city? And all of us police with nothing but orders to maintain the peace.” She slapped at her badge. “I’ve been keeping my oath. I have to, seeing how no one above me is.”

  We stared at each other. “You guys are friends, right?” said Onanefe.

  I nodded. “We are. I’m sorry.” I held out a hand.

  Soni flicked her eyes toward it and sighed. “You know how many times we’ve done this?”

  “Only every crisis,” I said. “The rest of the time we’re downright pleasant.”

  She took my hand and squeezed. “You’re an asshole, you know that?”

  I smiled. “Yeah, but at least you’ll always know where I stand.”

  Onanefe grinned. “You are friends.”

  I patted his shoulder. “You’re going to be hating life once those meds wear off.”

  He made a face. “I still hurt like hell. The drugs just keep me from caring about it.”

  “What happened to you?” said Soni. “And why has Padma latched on to you?”

  Onanefe propped
himself up. “My name is Onanefe, and I am the best damn cane cutter on this planet.” He winced, then sank back in the gurney.

  “He’s also involved with the FOC,” I said. “He and Letty were in the same chapter.”

  “And what a chapter it was!” Onanefe waved his arms and began to sing: I had a job once cutting cane, worked all day through blood and pain...

  That sparked a memory: the Temple on Lutyen, that service before the strike began. “What song is that?”

  “Old Freeborn work song,” said Onanefe. “It’s got a good rhythm for cutting and packing. Plus, if you get the whole crew singing, it’ll scare away the rats and vipers. Also…”

  He grinned and beckoned me to come closer. I leaned towards his mouth. “It was our secret signal to other FOC members: time to kick ass.” He clamped his hands over his mouth, his eyes big and his pupils pinpricks. Then he laughed, big and hoarse. “Oh, shit, I’ve given away our secret signal!” He grabbed Soni’s arm. “Officer, please show some mercy! Don’t throw me in solitary! I’m too pretty for prison!”

  Soni smiled and patted Onanefe’s hand. “We don’t do that anymore, dear.”

  “Thank Christ! Praise the Di-Lặc Buddha! ’Cause I really like people, and being alone sucks.” He closed his eyes and passed out.

  We both froze. I reached for his neck and felt a strong pulse. Then I felt a strong snore. I shook my head. “Lightweight.”

  “Too right,” said Soni. “You think you can tell me about the alleged arson at your building?”

  As we edged through the streets, I told Soni everything. Almost everything. Six O’Clock was off limits, even for her. Fortunately, she was more concerned with the threats from the Co-Op, Letty, the guy with the knife, the guys with the machetes, and the human tsunami at Bakaara Market.

  She had her chin cupped in her hand. “That doesn’t fit.”

  “What?”

  Her eyebrows furrowed. “Bakaara. I had people stationed at every public market. Hell, I had twice the usual number.”

  “I know. I saw them.”

  She rubbed her temples. “I had comms running through old radio rigs.”

  “Yeah?”

  She nodded, her eyes not focusing on me. “And I didn’t hear anything about a riot there.” She knocked on the partition to the front seat. One of the EMTs slid it open. “Change of plans,” said Soni. “Go to the Twenty-Eighth.”

  The EMT balked. “But the crowds–”

  “Turn on the sirens, step on the gas, and get us there.”

  The EMT gave a quick nod and slid the partition shut. A moment later, the sirens blared overhead and we picked up speed. “Why aren’t we going to a hospital?”

  “Because I can’t keep you safe there.”

  “What, now you’re interested in my health and well-being?”

  “I never stopped. But I can’t take you with me, and I’m not going to leave you at the hospital. You’ve had three attempts on your life today.”

  “I only recall two.”

  “Bakaara.” Soni’s face darkened. “What happened there was a hit.”

  “No, it was a panic. People were worried about food, and there were all these rumors flying around–”

  “– and none of my people at the Market calmed things down,” said Soni, rising from her seat. She hovered above Onanefe for a moment, her eyes burning, before she eased herself back down. “They had standing orders to keep the crowd calm, even if it meant shutting the place down. What you saw? When you got there? That shouldn’t have happened.” She shook her head. “This all sounds like the provocateur games I heard all over the city in precincts that I lost contact with. If it happened here, it’s because someone above me ordered it. Someone wants you dead. I don’t. End of discussion.”

  I felt a cold knot in my gut, the kind that came in between the last hurricane siren and the storm making landfall. Something bad was coming, and the lizard part of my brain screamed, Run! Run far and fast! The monkey parts all said, No, forget that, we’re staying here. Stupid monkey brains. “You really think so?”

  Soni nodded. “What happened at Bakaara was a classic, sloppy cover-up. Set off a panic, take out the target in the crush. The guys with the machetes cinches it for me. They were trying to finish off what the knife attack and the riot couldn’t. What do all these incidents have in common?”

  I sighed. “The Temple pins. But why me?”

  She shook her head. “Finding that out is not really my job now. Keeping you from getting killed is. I’m going to put you in protective custody in a precinct house in Rongotai. I handpicked everyone there.”

  I nodded. “Not to sound snotty, but did you do the same with the people at Bakaara?”

  Soni shook her head and shrugged. “Maybe? I’ve sent out a lot of deployment orders on paper. Now I’m starting to wonder if any of them got through.”

  “All the same, I really don’t want to be locked up right now.”

  Soni grunted. “You’d rather be out there, waiting for someone to chop you to pieces?”

  “I don’t like being caged.”

  “Christ, Padma, I’m not going to lock you in a cell!”

  “No, but you’re going to keep me from figuring this out.”

  “I’m sorry, I had no idea you’d become a deputized detective.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Exactly. That’s why your ass is going to sit tight while the professionals figure it out.”

  “Oh, like you did, right? I forgot: ‘professional’ means ‘I’m going to look out for the other people in my profession first.’”

  Soni made a fist, then relaxed it. She looked at me and said, in a low, missile silo hiss, “You want me to arrest you? ’Cause I can do that, too. I know how much you like to make a production out of everything.”

  “I’m on your side, remember? Solidarity and friendship and all that?”

  She nodded. “Which is why I want you safe at the Twenty-Eighth Precinct, surrounded by people who are pointing their weapons away from you.”

  I looked at Soni’s grim face for a moment, then slid the partition. The EMTs jumped as I stuck my head through. “Hi, there! Stop the bus, please.”

  “What?” said the driver.

  Soni muscled next to me. “Ignore her. Keep going.”

  I wracked my brains. What would get their attention? Money? Rum? Yes, rum! “If you stop the ambulance and let me out,” I said, “I’ll give you both a bottle of Old Windswept Ten-Year.”

  The EMTs looked at each other. I sighed. “Okay. Two bottles.”

  The driver put on the brakes. “What the hell are you doing?” yelled Soni.

  The wave tattooed on the driver’s cheek curled as he gave her a pained look. “Chief, I could get half a year’s salary for that!”

  “Who’s going to buy it?” said Soni. “Are you going to convince a bunch of Shareholders to invest in your bottle? Are you going to dole it out, one shot at a time?”

  “But…” The driver’s head wobbled, like a kid who was trying to convince his mom that an extra slice of pie was, in fact, a great idea. “It’s from Tonggow’s stash.”

  Soni ground her jaw and stared at me. “You are an idiot.”

  I smiled as I eased toward the back door. “I’m just using what little leverage I’ve got left.”

  She shook her head. “Then I’m sorry I have to use mine.” She lunged across Onanefe, grabbed my right wrist, and cranked it so hard I felt the pain at the bottom of my spine. I couldn’t yell as she slapped a handcuff on me. She clipped the other end to the handrail of Onanefe’s gurney.

  “You cuffed me!” I yelled.

  “Wasn’t the first time, probably won’t be the last.” She touched the driver on the shoulder. “I don’t want to do the same to you and your partner. Drive.”

  The driver hesitated. “Four bottles each!” I called out. “Two to sell now, two to hide for the future.”

  “That’s enough!” yelled Soni. She turned to the driver. “Get us
to the Twenty-Eighth right the hell now, or I will subdue and detain both of you.”

  I could see the EMTs looking at each other. “Five bottles!” I yelled.

  The driver put the ambulance into park. Soni swore under her breath and pulled a taser from her belt. “Soni!” I yelled.

  She glared at me. “I have had enough of your bullshit, Padma. I am trying to help you, and you want to throw money around, buy your way out of trouble? It doesn’t work like that. You can’t just–”

  She froze, then flopped forward across Onanefe’s face. Behind her, the EMT with the cornrows held a drained syringe. “Five bottles each, right?”

  I nodded. “I hope you’re okay with me not having them now, right?”

  “You keep ’em at the distillery?”

  I nodded. “Think you can help me out?” I rattled the cuffs.

  She gave me the once-over, then turned back into her seat. “After we get to Tanque.”

  The driver shifted into the gear, and the ambulance lurched forward. My guts shifted. Of course I didn’t have any Ten-Year at the distillery. I didn’t have any, period, but now was not the time to reveal that bit of poor business planning. I had to get out of here.

  I reached for Soni, but the handcuff chain was too short. The vertical bars on the gurney’s handrail kept me from sliding closer to her. I reached across with my left hand, but I still couldn’t reach her. Then I realized I was, indeed, a dumbass. I was still dancing, and dancers moved in all directions.

  I put my back to the gurney and reached out my left hand. I got a firm grip on Soni’s collar and pulled. She flopped to the ground in front of me. I pulled on her collar again, only to have her blouse come untucked. I gave it another yank; her blouse tore at the seams in her armpits, revealing a simple body armor vest. She didn’t move.

  “What’s going on?” yelled the driver.

  “Nothing. Make sure to avoid the Brapati Causeway. It’ll be jammed.”

  I reached for Soni’s belt, but it was too far. I tugged on her wrist. She slid toward me until her boot caught in the gurney’s wheels. I pulled harder, but that only made the gurney rattle. Above me, Onanefe groaned, “Oy, my head.” The ambulance bumped over something, and he tumbled on top of Soni.