Chromed- Rogue

by Richard Parry

  “You see Mason asking you to sign a contract before he blew your boyfriend’s leg off? Before he took you away from a man who was going to cut on your face with a piece of broken mirror?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend. Maybe not for a long time.” The words tasted of ash.

  It was Carter’s turn to pause for a moment. “That sounds like it might be true.”

  “Since we’re being truthful, can you give me a hint about what the hell is going on here?”

  “Not really,” said Carter. “Is Haraway there?”

  “Haraway? The nerd?”

  “Yeah, the rocket scientist. Actually, she’s more like a fusion scientist working in advanced physics.”

  “All that tells me is she can’t play.”

  “About right,” agreed Carter. “Can you still play, Sadie? Can you play without them?”

  “Without a band? Sure.”

  “No,” said Carter. “Without a crowd. The people.”

  Sadie looked at the guitar. “I’m wondering about something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Aren’t you worried about people listening in? We’re on a radio.”

  “You have to imagine that anyone in any syndicate gives a shit about our conversation about your relationship mistakes.”

  “It seemed like a good idea at the time.” Sadie glanced outside. “A long time ago, it seemed like a good idea.”

  “Do you know a lot about radios?”

  “No.” Sadie leaned back, struggling to carry her anger and fear at the same time. “But I know you can, what’s it called, triangulate.”

  “That’s right.” Carter sounded like she’d just told Sadie she was a very good dog. “You know what you need to triangulate?”

  “Besides giving a shit about my relationship mistakes?”

  “Besides that,” agreed Carter. “You need to know there’s something to look for. You need to know where to start looking.”

  Sadie put her feet back up on the table, settling the guitar against her body. “I get this town’s not on the map. I never heard of a town filled with monsters a couple hours’ drive from where I buy my milk.”

  “No. If that’s all it was, I wouldn’t be worth my salary.”

  “They pay you well?”

  “More than the tips and beer money you got from your last gig.” Carter paused. “I’m not trying to be a bitch here, it’s just the way it is.”

  “You’re coming across as a bitch. Just a little bit.” Sadie watched the radio, the moment stretching out.

  “Okay, that was useful feedback.”

  “Useful—”

  “The thing is,” interrupted Carter, “to stop people knowing there’s a radio signal out there, you need to kind of … inject yourself into a lot of systems. Comms operators. Radio stations. Program directors. The ITU. Did you know there’s an international special committee on radio interference?”

  “Hadn’t given it much thought,” admitted Sadie.

  “Exactly. No one does, until they try and work out all the ways someone can tune into a signal.”

  “You’re telling me you’ve … what, erased the signal?”

  “No, that’s actually impossible. Law of conservation of energy. I made it look like there’s nothing to see.”

  “How did Mason know what frequency to use?”

  “Mason’s what you might call a forward planner. After the last time.” Carter sounded sad.

  “Last time?”

  “Not my thing to talk about. I’m not his first partner.”

  “The last one not work out?”

  “He shot his last partner seven times and tore his body apart with an industrial loader,” said Carter. “The point is, after the last one there were complications.”

  Sadie leaned forward a little, the guitar a comfortable weight. The chair was old, springs pushing through tired fabric. She smelled a hint of mold as the seat shifted under her. “What kind of complications?”

  “The Federate ordered a hit squad on him. Mason was cut off. No link. Couldn’t communicate with anyone on the inside.”

  “So, he’s worked out this low-tech way of talking?”

  “No. I worked out this low-tech way of talking. He just told me the problem he wanted a solve for.”

  “Wait.” Sadie plucked a string, a note almost pure and clean coming from the amp. She touched the tuning key again, twisting it a fraction. “If the problem last time was his partner, why’s he trusting his partner this time?”

  Carter sounded like she was wearing a smile as broad as the dawn. “Now you’re starting to ask the right questions.”

  “You haven’t told me what I need to know.” Carter didn’t sound tired, but Sadie sure did. They’d talked for what felt like hours. Sadie’s guitar was as tuned as it was going to get.

  “I thought I had. You’ve got more questions?”

  “You didn’t tell me what the noise was when we started talking,” said Carter. “You didn’t tell me if you can still play.”

  Sadie looked at the amp, the red lamp dull with age. “The noise was—”

  “You’ve found the Stratocaster.”

  “How did you know?”

  “You’re still asking the wrong questions,” said Carter. “But the short version is that I’ve spent a lot of time looking at the plans for that town. Photos of the streets. You can find very old systems that most people don’t know about. Images exist of everything, sometimes taken from cars as they drove down the street.”

  “How do you look at plans for something that doesn’t exist?”

  “Carefully.”

  “It’s the Stratocaster.” Sadie stroked the guitar’s neck. “The answer to the second question is I’m not sure.”

  “That’s … surprisingly honest. I didn’t expect that.”

  “I used to play because I wanted to play. I said it was for me. But somewhere along the line—”

  “Somewhere along the line, it became about them. I get that.”

  “How?” Sadie glared at the radio. “You’re a soulless company robot. No offense.”

  “None taken. I get it because I used to play.”

  Sadie held the guitar neck so tight her fingers went white. It’s a lie. “You used to play? What? Mozart or some shit?”

  “There’s an old story about motorcycles. You know, the continuous war between people riding the new tech, and the old. Harley Davidson people would tell you Suzuki exists to keep assholes off Harleys.”

  “I had a boyfriend who said that. Long time ago.”

  “Really?”

  “He wasn’t very good.”

  “Got you,” said Carter. “Thing is, the real point is they’re both on bikes, not in cars. They’re fighting about the wrong things.”

  “Mozart’s not that bad?”

  “Mozart’s still a guy who’s a long time dead,” said Carter. “Point is, it’s not what you play, but that you play.”

  “What do you play?” said Sadie.

  “I play bass.” Carter paused. “I mean, I play a lot of things, but I love the bass. It’s pure, you can get lost in the rhythm.”

  It’s got to be a lie. This company woman is telling you what you want to hear. “What do you play bass for?”

  “I play bass because it’s honest.”

  “That’s not what I asked.” Sadie stroked strings, the amp humming along. “Now who’s not answering the question?”

  “It’s kind of what you asked.” A low tone came from the radio, drawn out long. “Hear that?”

  “You’ve got a bass at your office?” Sadie blinked. “I always pictured you company types as living in cube farms, nothing but an old coffee cup and bad air conditioning for company.”

  “We’re hipper than you might give us credit for. Besides. They give me my own office.”

  Sadie frowned, leaning back in her chair. She plunked a string on the Stratocaster, the noise almost right this time. Maybe a little more tuning. Sadie touched a tuning key,
her fingers lingering for a moment before falling away. “Are you trying to be cool?”

  “Cool?”

  “Yeah. You said ‘hipper.’ I’ve never heard anyone say that before.”

  “I watch old movies,” admitted Carter.

  “You like old movies?” Sadie smiled. “You’re not the soulless company robot you come across as. Not all the way.”

  “I like people.” Carter sounded like she was surprised by her own statement. “I watch all kinds of movies. I don’t like the ones that don’t have audio.”

  “Audio?” Sadie frowned. “There you are, back to being a robot.”

  “Sorry. Silent films.”

  “I know what you’re talking about.” Sadie nodded. “You going to answer my question?”

  “I prefer playing drum and bass because it turns honesty to eleven.”

  “You’re a dick.” Sadie laughed. “Man, I wanted to punch you in the face earlier. Now I think I want to play.”

  “Thanks. What do you want to play?”

  “Something honest. What do you know?”

  “Everything, Sadie. You choose.”

  “Challenge accepted.” Sadie’s fingers touched the strings. “It’s just—”

  “You don’t know if you can,” finished Carter. “Because there’s no crowd.”

  Sadie sat still and quiet for a moment, her fingers still on the strings. “How—”

  “You told me,” said Carter. “Just a moment ago.”

  “I didn’t—”

  “Does it matter?” The radio hissed static for a moment. “I’m here. You’re there. We got this shitty radio and nothing else for company.”

  “What did Mason say?” Sadie looked down, her feet stretched out on the old floor in front of her. “When he asked you for help.”

  “It’s not important.”

  “Am I going to die?” Sadie swallowed. “Is this the last time I’m going to play?”

  The radio went quiet for a few moments. When Carter spoke again, her voice was soft, almost gentle. “No. No, you’re not going to die.”

  “How do you know? How can you be sure?” Sadie hadn’t known she was going to stand before she found herself upright, the Stratocaster in one hand, her steps taking her closer to the radio.

  “I made him promise,” said Carter. “The mission parameters don’t allow me much leeway, but I can ask him for something. A favor, a little extra … honesty, between friends. I asked him to bring you back alive, Sadie. I made him promise to keep you safe.”

  “Me?” Sadie blinked in the half-light. “Why?”

  “Because you’re going to keep him on the right path, once this is done.”

  “I don’t know what crack cocaine they put in the water coolers up at Asshole HQ, but once we’re back in the world I’m done with you guys.” Sadie tasted truth and lies in the words. She wanted them to be true. But her heart called her a liar. “No offense.”

  “No, you’re not. Not unless you don’t want the bar.”

  Sadie blinked. “What bar?”

  “Whichever one you want,” said Carter. “Pick a place.”

  “Like The Hole?”

  “Maybe one with more class.”

  “It’s not about the class,” grumbled Sadie. “They’re my people.”

  “Sure, okay, whatever. The Hole. You want it? The deed. The rights.”

  “Bernie will never sell it.” Sadie frowned. “Doesn’t he have to agree to sell it?”

  “Your company overlords say no,” said Carter. “Running a bar is risky business. He’s a rapist and a murderer, if that helps.” Carter sounded dry.

  “You’re saying you’d kill Bernie to give me a bar to help you out, justifying it because Bernie’s an asshole.”

  “He’s more than an asshole.”

  “Still.”

  The radio was silent for a moment. “This is why I made him promise. You’re the right choice.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve got a deal. Your word that you’ll help Mason see straight. The days ahead are going to cloud what’s right and wrong. He needs a true north.”

  “I—”

  “In exchange, I guarantee you the title of the bar called The Hole. Bernie Eckers will not be harmed in the transaction, except perhaps in the manner of future lost earnings.” Carter paused. “Your word, Freeman.”

  Sadie sat down in the chair, the air leaving her in a rush. “I—”

  “It’s a good offer. I’m being honest here.”

  She is. She’s not lying, but you haven’t heard her truth yet, Sadie. “You might think that, but … I haven’t heard you play.”

  “Then let’s play,” said Carter.

  Sadie sat still, the memory of the music still lingering on the old walls around her. “That was…”

  “For what it’s worth, you can still play. No crowd, and you made that Stratocaster sing.”

  Sadie’s hand came away from her face wet. She laughed. “You’re right. I can still play.”

  “Don’t forget. One thing I know? Humans suck at remembering what they’re good at.”

  “You want me to be good at something else.” The smile dropped from Sadie’s face.

  “Not something else. Something more.”

  “Something more?”

  “Sadie, I want you to be yourself, but with extra enthusiasm. Do we have a deal?”

  Sadie walked to the wall, leaning the Stratocaster against it with care before flicking off the amp. She walked back to the radio, putting a hand on the top, her fingers lingering against the old plastic. “Thank you, Carter.”

  “Then we have a deal?”

  “Sure.” Sadie flicked the radio off, then walked into the street without a backward glance.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Harry shifted from foot to foot in the mud. He couldn’t find a square of solid ground as far as his expensive optics could see. And if he didn’t keep moving, he’d sink. A chassis built for urban pacification expected firm ground. Damn engineers didn’t think about a day out in the woods.

  His overlay mapped out the woods, updated from sat feeds. Eyes in the sky overhead showed grass, mud, and the Great Wheel, or whatever it was called these days. Rusted struts reached curved claws to the clouds. It was the biggest eyesore in Seattle. Being in a park was bullshit anyway. Even when Harry had a body, he wouldn’t have come here. No margaritas, no damn barbecue. And no Lace.

  As if sensing his thoughts, her voice cut through the link. “They’re gonna unplug you and leave you outside in the rain to rust. They don’t handle faulty intel well at all.”

  “Eh. The intel’s fine. The source is faulty.”

  “You sure Mason said two p.m? Here?”

  “Yeah. That’s what he said.”

  “At the Great Wheel?”

  Harry sighed. It’d cost him, but he couldn’t help it. “How much you reckon that thing weighs?”

  “Before it fell apart and the cars broke? More than you. I’m still going to call it the Great Wheel.”

  “It doesn’t look great.” Harry eyeballed it with his optics. “It looks unsafe.”

  Harry shifted again as his right leg mired. A gout of muddy water shot sideways, splashing a Federate agent on his flank. The guy gave him the evil eye. “Watch it.”

  “Sorry.” Harry spoke in the real using the PA. “Damn rain, right?”

  “Right.” The agent brushed water from his leg, shuffling further away and making a big deal about checking his weapon. It was a long black energy rifle of Federate design. He said something else under his breath that sounded like asshole.

  Harry ignored him. Normals got touchy at times like this. He keyed the link. “Lace?”

  “What?”

  “It’s one fifty-five p.m. What have you got on the satellite?”

  “There’s a thing.” Lace had the barest hint of concern in her voice. “How much ammo did you bring?”

  Harry turned the chassis in a full 360, scanning the woods. He switched o
ptics to thermal, the trees turning a stark cold blue, the metal of the giant wheel almost black. His team were orange and red silhouettes. In the distance, there were a lot of other warm bodies. “Ah, Christ.”

  “I don’t think JC’s your problem,” said Lace. “You’re a big boy. You can sort it out. They’re just people.”

  Harry watched the tactical map populate on his overlay, his team bright-yellow markers. Around the park, a mass of red dots filled in as Lace fed information from the orbiting satellites.

  “That’s a lot of dudes.” Harry shook mud from a metal foot. “They’re all around the park. Circumference of what, about ten klicks?”

  “More or less,” agreed Lace. “It looks like there’s a few gaps, but also some areas where they’re two or three deep. I give you maybe three or four thousand.”

  “Give me a tactical estimate. Weapons and armor.” Harry played her sentence back in his mind. “Four thousand?”

  “Numbers are still coming up. Computer’s a bit slow.”

  “It’s three thousand and seventy-six.” Carter cut across the link. “Seventy-seven. Seventy-eight. Numbers are growing at the northern edge of the park near the metropolitan transit station.”

  “You’re going to have to tell me how you do that, Carter.” Lace sounded like she was sucking a lemon. “It’s a secure line, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Not that secure. I can also tell you many are armed but aren’t holding their weapons.”

  Harry watched his overlay continue to fill with hostiles. Targets. People. They’re people. “What’s that mean?”

  “Were you made aware of a tactical operation conducted by the Metatech syndicate earlier today?” Carter paused. “In Little Italy.”

  “I’m not plugged into their inner circle,” admitted Harry. “What happened?”

  “I’m not a hundred percent sure.” Carter sniffed. “I only have CCTV. The images are … confusing.”

  Lace gave a hmm sound, full of meaning. “If Super Brain finds them confusing, we’re in trouble.”

  Harry switched on the PA. “Pull Burke and Finnagen out of the trailer. We’re going to deploy our surprise a bit early.”

  The agent on his right glanced up. “Really?”

  “Really. I’ll get Lace to update your tactical overlay with the current situation, but we’re going to need to evac.”