by Roger Levy
‘Ours and yours, Tallen,’ said Beata.
Tallen said, ‘But the core –’
‘On this rig, the harvesting of core is diversionary. Your primary purpose is to be a human conduit for the servicing and maintenance of the three sarcs. This is what you cannot remember,’ said Lode. ‘This is what you do at night, as the one before you did, and as the one to replace you will do. But you do it well, Tallen, except that you have malfunctioned. You have adjusted their scheduled rota.’
Tallen sat back on the bed and said, ‘I still don’t understand.’
‘It is for us to understand,’ said Lode.
‘Though we do not understand,’ said Beata.
His head was raging. It was full of thunder, of snow and –
Lode and Beata were not standing where they had been a moment ago, and he was exhausted. Sweat poured from him. The cables were lying in great ripples around his feet.
Lode said, ‘What have you done now, Tallen? Please stop this.’
Tallen said, ‘I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’ve done. I don’t know anything.’ He wanted to cry. He held out his arms to Beata and Lode. ‘Please help me.’
Beata said, ‘Help us, Tallen. Please help us.’
There was a noise in his head, a pattern that he recognised, and seams of colour like migraine. He recalled Veale, the Ronen psychiatrist. The remembrance of the tests settled him, and he suddenly saw that he had been prepared for this all along. But what was this? They couldn’t have been tests. Had Veale known, though? Tallen thought back and back and back to the HeartSearch prompts. Snow…
Memory came like a dark flood. He saw something vast and complex with himself at its heart, and he seemed to be in control of it, and then a burst of the noise banished it again. And he saw the circle of lights from his dream of the attack, only it wasn’t a halo at all, but an array of lights – they were operating lights. And the pain was there, and he wanted to die.
Then for a moment he saw a face. The writer. And seeing Razer, he wanted to live.
Her face vanished. Thoughts came and went, scratchings inside his skull corresponding with urges to laugh, to piss, to scratch his cheek. He said words, heard words. Snow and… He wanted to work on a rig. He wanted to kill himself. Mountains…
He was at the heart of it, yes, and at the same time he was of no importance whatever.
He put his hand in his pocket. There was a knife.
* * *
Delta
Delta’s visor was set to outline and motion. She added live vis to that and slowed to a trot. Hardly anyone was on the streets. She kept as far as possible to the unsurveilled streets. Her first target was the Rut. If she could make it there, she could slow down and catch her breath.
Half a kil clear of her block, she checked her wrist. Pax and Vox were still inaccessible.
An ident tag came up and vanished before she could distinguish it. Behind her. It could have been a fault, but she stopped at a corner and glanced back. Nothing. She went on, and the tag returned. It was a face-match from the last time she’d visored up, and that had been –
Shit. Decece was right behind her.
But that made no sense. He couldn’t have been watching her without her being aware of it.
And then she realised it made total sense. Decece was using PaxTrac. He hadn’t needed a visual on her. There was no escape from him as long as she carried the flake in her wrist. But she was still comms-down. So they had access to Pax and she didn’t.
Bale hadn’t guessed half of it. She fought down a wave of panic and looked around at the high, dark buildings, up at the glittering shield. Not a place she’d have chosen to die, and not a time either. There was a power hum nearby, cables looping high over the street. She could go to one of the doors and try to get inside, but that would just get someone else killed.
She could take Decece out, at least. There was no point in waiting for a good moment. He knew exactly where she was. And the longer she left it, the more likely he was to realise she’d worked it out.
She set her weapon to its longest burst and ran back along the street. The comms-less visor could hardly keep up with her, maintaining just an armslength of street detail around her, leaving the rest as outline.
And there he was coming out of a doorway, threedy and solid against the pale, line-drawn road. She couldn’t miss him. He saw her coming, her gun levelled, and turned and started to run, but she slowed and fired and the first moment of the burst took him down.
She came to a stop at his side, gasping for breath. The visor readjusted to clearview as she stared at the body. It wasn’t Decece.
The visor adjusted again, telling her Decece was right behind her, but she didn’t turn in time. She’d killed a decent. They’d been playing her.
‘Let the gun drop, Officer. Now kick it away. Good.’ He stepped back. ‘I’m going to have to rethink this. I had the story, but it doesn’t quite work any more.’ He tipped his head to the side. ‘After you killed Navid and the archivist, we tracked you down. But, after a firefight, you escaped and killed a decent, and then your luck ran out. As indeed it has.’
He wasn’t armed and he wasn’t concerned. Delta glanced at the street behind him. No one visible, but someone was there. Delta knew she wasn’t going to walk away from this. She felt extraordinarily calm. She said, ‘Who are you? What’s this about? I’d say you were Whisper, but they don’t take risks like this. You won’t be able to hide this away.’
Decece was looking around, no concern in his movement or voice. ‘You know something? The more they pay you, the less they tell you. And I don’t know anything at all.’
‘They’ll kill you. People like that, they kill everyone. They leave no trace.’
‘I don’t think you understand. That’s why they use me. I’m the one who leaves no trace.’ He nudged the body with his foot. ‘I think we’re done. I think here’s fine.’ He made a gesture and began to turn away from her, glancing away and to the left. ‘You want to be running? Only I think long range is more convincing.’ She followed his line of sight and saw the man in the shadows as he raised the weapon. She started to move but the gunburst was faster than her heartbeat, and in her last moment she thought of
* * *
Razer
Razer sent a hi-there to Delta but only a try-later came back. Something was very wrong. Razer had no time to open the flower Delta had sent. She just returned, In the morning. Sleeping now, closed her screenery down and left again.
Three a.m., and the street corners were itchy with static from the shield. Razer kept to the brightly lit, wider streets where she could easily be seen, but so could anyone trailing her. The shielded sky was beautiful tonight. She felt tense and alive, all her senses magnified. Was that just from talking to Tallen? Nightbirds flicked beneath the shield and magnetic ripples rolled overhead, brushing licks of azure and lazuli across the dusty ground. She passed the red bar and thought of Bale. Come-ons came to life as she walked by, shining their wares.
Eat multifruit from the gardens of Resolve and taste the worlds.
The corporation you can trust for all your energy needs. Daylight and starlight, we’ll keep you going. We are Ronen and you are safe with us.
AfterLife. Once there was just the Song. Now it has a chorus.
There were sirens and a string of flashing zipriders carving past her, and she speeded up, but the Paxers weren’t headed where she was going. She hoped it hadn’t been Delta setting all this on her. The callme had been a warning or a trap, and neither was good.
There was someone tailing her again, but they weren’t interested in intercepting her. No point trying to lose them now. Speed was more important. She went straight into Delta’s block as if she lived there, her own doorflake in her hand. She walked straight past Delta’s obliterated apartment door and on towards the emergency exit. Not good.
And stupid, too. The gun was in the small of her back before she knew there was even anyone behind her.
Through the door, she took in the wreckage. At least Delta wasn’t there. She’d have got away, Razer told herself.
‘I was wondering how we’d manage this, but you made it easy, coming back. All I need is some clarification from you.’
A man’s voice, neutral accent, entirely calm. Razer said, ‘Where’s Delta? And who are you?’
‘She’s dead. I was hoping to kill her here. I had it in mind for the report that you’d be the killer. You killed Bale in the Chute and then went crazy tonight, killed Navid and some others in the Pax building, a few Ronen deskers, and then you came here for Officer Kerlew. All very tidy.’
He was enjoying this, but not so much that he’d be unpredictable. The gun nudged her towards a fallen chair, pushing her just hard enough. Perfect control.
‘So you kill her, but you’re fatally wounded yourself. Two bodies, one explanation, nice and neat. That was what I thought, but it works this way too, only she’s the killer instead of you. Same bones of the story, you see? She killed you here, ran, and had to be tracked down and shot on the streets. Slightly more complicated, but life’s never neat, is it? You’re the writer, of course, but you like that version? I like it a lot.’
She still couldn’t see him.
He nudged the chair towards her with his foot. Soft military boots. ‘Sit down.’ She righted the chair and set it down beside the curtained tank. There was dust everywhere. The tank curtain was thick with it. A broken table lay in the corner, wrecked putery on the floor. An unbroken shot glass on the floor too.
‘Why?’ She looked at him. This was Decece. She knew it by his skin.
‘Yes, that’s the question,’ he said. ‘Why indeed? Why all of this? That’s what I wanted to ask you. I just need to check I’m missing nothing. I’d willingly tell you my side of it, make more of a conversation, but I don’t know anything. I’m just the auditor.’ He shook dust off the other chair and sat down, facing her, the gun level in his hand. ‘So let’s set this out. I can kill you slowly or I can kill you quickly. And there’s no hurry at all. Pax has a very large mess of its own to deal with this evening. It makes Emel Fleschik’s little party look quite insignificant. By the time they get round to Officer Kerlew and think of checking her apartment, it’ll be light outside. And of course they’ll let me know they’re on their way. So, shall we start?’
He was too far away and just staring at her, the gun relaxed in his hand but stone steady.
‘I don’t know anything. I’m a writer. I work for TruTales. I was told to come to Bleak.’
He fired, casually. She felt her cheek burn. He said, ‘You killed Millasco in the Chute. You almost lost my first man outside your apartment a short while ago. They weren’t novices. And you’re a writer? Don’t insult me.’ He fired again and this time her cheek seethed with pain and there was hot blood at her neck.
She pressed her hand to it, and when the pain had subsided enough for her to breathe evenly, she said, ‘I’ve lived with people who do a lot of things and I write about them. I’ve picked things up. That’s all.’
‘You’ve been trained.’
‘I’ve only ever been a writer. I go where I’m told by an AI, learn about people, and write.’
He frowned at her and raised the gun again, and then he let his hand fall. ‘Oh, my.’ He stared hard at her for a moment, then shook the gun at her as if telling her off. ‘You’ve been trained and you didn’t know it. You really didn’t, did you? Well, that’s a new one. That’s very good indeed. Okay, I’ll settle for your next instructions and let you go quickly. Die, I mean. What are they?’
She sagged in the chair. ‘My AI has to advise me. My commslink is in my jacket here.’
‘Take it out slowly. I won’t skim you next time. Third time it’s a hand.’
She took the unit out and gently put it on the floor by the dusty tank curtain. The sun was starting to rise, and its amber light caught in the shards of glass hanging in the window frame. The room was still dark, but her eyes had adapted to it. A few beams of refracted light from the window crossed the room, holding the drifting dust.
‘Don’t leave it there. Pick it up. Slowly, that’s it. Good. Now put your other hand on your opposite shoulder. Lean all the way back, I don’t want you jumping up. That’s right.’
She did everything he said. Leaning back, she straightened her legs very slowly, and let her foot snag the edge of the chainlink curtain. It made a tiny chiming sound. Dust bloomed. She half closed her eyes in the dark room.
Decece was concentrating, eyes wide, carefully taking the comms unit from her without looking anywhere except at her face as she flicked her boot firmly against the curtain. It shot aside and the room was suddenly shining in the tank’s brilliance. The dust roiled in the vivid air. Decece cried out and raised a hand against the blazing light, firing blind. The shot hit the tank, which shattered explosively. Razer slapped Decece back as he lunged at her, half-sighted, and she went for his gun hand, but he rolled away and she picked up Delta’s dead screen and swung at him with it. His head folded back and he went down and was still.
She stood gasping. Water from the smashed tank was flowing away across the floor, and the spilt stones were fading. Fish flapped and jumped, losing their colour as they died.
Razer gathered herself. Get out quickly. She picked up her bag and commslink and took Decece’s gun from the floor, started to search his pockets and stopped again. He wouldn’t be carrying anything. She went into the small kitchen and then the bedroom, going through Delta’s cupboards, and pocketed a deactivated Paxflake. She squeezed a whole tube of Heal! over her cheek, wincing at the pain, then found a reel of tape and ripped off a length and used it to drag down an eyebrow and pull up the corner of her lip. She shrugged a jacket of Delta’s over her own and filled a shoulder bag with anything that came to hand, just to unbalance her, and said into the room as she left, ‘I’ll stick with this story, asshole.’
* * *
Tallen
Tallen was feeling a lot better. He was remembering more and more. When he was in the cage, he would review his maps. He found himself intensely conscious of the sensor chains strung out in the sea, feeding wave profiles back to the rig, and the ballast programs adjusting the weighting to keep the vessel stable.
His back had stopped itching, and he felt an alertness he’d never felt in his life. The water crashed over him.
He felt the movement of the sarcs out there. It was as if some of them were calling to him, scratching in his skull.
He thought of the first HeartStar. The words in his head were to do with that, though he remembered nothing about the woman. He had a strong vision of the place she had described. Snow and rain. Mountains… How did it go on?
And the second HeartStar. With that, he had a sharp memory of the writer in the red bar, that thing she’d said, Full of sound and fury. He suddenly remembered going back and searching it out on the Song, a whole speech that he’d wanted to talk to her about. Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.
And then he’d gone out and ended up here.
* * *
Razer
Out of Delta’s block, Razer walked quickly, heading for the red bar. Twice on the way she stopped under dead cams, changing her appearance each time, dropping the bag and extra jacket, adjusting the facial sticktape. The moves might only buy her a few minutes when Decece was discovered, but that could matter. Right now, she could afford the time.
Bar/red never closed, but at four-light it was slowing down. She went to the counter and bought a mudvisky, and said, ‘You know there are Paxers outside?’
‘Should I?’
She swallowed half the shot. The bar was busy with screeners and drinkers, the hum of music low. ‘Maybe you should,’ she said. ‘Not for you, but there’s a few here who might thank you for knowing.’
‘Might they?’ said the barman. His eyes slid over her.
She
said, ‘It’s only that Bale isn’t around any more to give you the heads-up, and I think Pax want to make a show tonight. Not that you have anything to worry about. Like I said.’
She drank the rest of the thick visky down and went across to a woman she’d seen there more than once, who was intent on a palmscreen and mildly hyperventilating, and said, ‘Hey, forgive me for this rudeness, but I’ve seen you here a few times and I know you deal ellescele, and if I know, then Pax surely knows.’
‘So?’ Her breathing slowed its beat and she was suddenly focused on Razer. She folded the screen away.
‘So Pax has the bar set up for a raid. But you give me your jacket and your vials, you take my jacket, and Pax sees you for me and me for you.’
‘Sure, and I was cloned an hour ago.’ The woman turned away.
Razer pointed at the barman, who was making a noise about starting to clear the drinks and shut down the comms. ‘See? He knows.’
‘How do I know you won’t sell me to Pax?’
‘Sell you? I could just take you.’ Razer unpalmed Delta’s Paxflake for a moment. In the dim light, the flake looked good enough. ‘But I’m making an offer.’
‘Why would a Paxer do this? Don’t shit me.’
The bar was almost dark now. People were heading away steadily and swiftly. Razer said, ‘I just took out a dealer but he was clean and I’m in trouble if I don’t have something to leave on him.’
The woman laughed, then stood up and peeled her jacket off. She said, ‘Why not? Stuff’s in the pocket.’
‘Leave your palmscreen with me. Take my jacket,’ Razer said, shrugging on the woman’s. ‘My commer’s in it. Wear it like I do, collar up. Keep your head down; you look enough like me. Jam your hands in your pockets like I do.’
The woman cleared her device’s dataset with a swipe of her palm and handed it over. Razer watched her go, waiting a minute before standing up. The dealer’s jacket smelt stale and the palmscreen was sticky. A group of people were leaving and Razer filtered through the door with them. She slid away at the first junction and went to the promenade and stopped there, staring out at the sea. The light was rising and the shield growing faint against it. Pale purple shadows were stretching out across the street behind her, and the water was hissing through the stones below. The colours made her think of Decece, startled and off guard as she’d killed him.