Active Memory

by Dan Wells

  “She’s right above us!” shouted Anja.

  “Got you,” said Renata, a gleeful whisper in Marisa’s ears, followed by the loud double explosion of her sniper rifle: the first when she fired it, and the second when the huge, armor-piercing round slammed into something heavy and metal outside of Marisa’s view. Bennett stopped firing, and Marisa jumped up and peeked out the door. The street below was full of shocked locals, staring up at the firefight above them, and Marisa felt a wave of dizziness as she looked down.

  Bao and Anja waved at them, and then pointed urgently to the far side of the next building. “There’s a crane over there!” shouted Bao. “She’s trying to reach the docks!”

  Marisa gathered her wits, keeping her eyes up and focusing on her balance. Zenaida ran into another door on the far side of the catwalk, and Marisa ran to follow her.

  “Right behind you,” said Sahara.

  Bennett popped up in front of them, one floor up and about five meters to the side; before she could shoot, Marisa heard a burst of gunfire from behind her as Omar unloaded the second magazine of his pistol. The bullets pinged off the metal edges of Bennett’s window, and Bennett dropped back out of view. Marisa kept running, and all three of them reached the end of the catwalk, tumbling into the narrow hallway before Bennett could pop back up again.

  “I’m going to shoot below her window,” said Renata, and Marisa covered her ears as the noise of the impact rang through the container stack. A moment later Renata clucked her tongue. “No way to tell if I hit her.”

  “Stop shooting,” screamed Sahara, “we’re in here!”

  “Bao and I are running to the other side,” said Anja. “Try to get to the roof!”

  “This way,” said Marisa, and ran to the wall of the container, where some enterprising resident had cut a set of handholds into the corrugated metal wall. She climbed up into a dimly lit hallway and drew her taser. Was Bennett in this container, or the next one over? Sahara joined her, and then Omar, and they followed the hallway as it wound through the stack, past makeshift doors and piles of garbage and the shocked faces of locals. Marisa could hear footsteps in the hallway ahead, but didn’t know if they were Zenaida’s, or someone else’s, or simply their own footsteps echoing back to them.

  “I’m looking at a satellite image of the whole area,” said Anja on the group call. “One of the crane arms next door to your container stack collapsed at some point, and it’s leaning against the top. It looks like you can cross from your roof to the crane, and from there to the edge of the water—I bet you anything that’s where Zenaida’s going.”

  “Roger,” said Sahara, and pointed to another metal ladder. “This way.”

  They climbed up, saw a shaft of daylight, and followed it to another ladder that led to the roof of the makeshift building. They reached the top of the containers just in time to see Zenaida picking her way across the gantry of a fallen crane, and Marisa ran toward her with a shout.

  “Wait!”

  Zenaida looked at her, but didn’t stop or slow down.

  “I can see you,” said Renata on the phone. “I’ve got a clear view of the whole rooftop. No Bennett.”

  Marisa reached the edge of the fallen crane, where it leaned heavily against a pair of crumpled shipping containers. She’d been expected something smaller, but this wasn’t a construction crane—it was a loading crane, the kind that reached out over the massive ships and picked up the containers. It was thick and heavy, and she was amazed the stack of containers hadn’t collapsed under its weight. The locals had bolted and welded the two structures together as well as they could, trying to make it as secure as possible, but Marisa still felt her heart leap into her throat as she stepped to the edge and put a hand on the gantry. It stretched far ahead, past another crane and out to the water—not the ocean, but a wide canal where a derelict container ship was rusting at the dock. A series of cargo nets formed a kind of tether, connecting the crane to the ship in what looked like a well-traveled ladder.

  “She’s trying to reach the ocean,” said Omar, planting his feet next to Marisa’s. Zenaida was picking her way across the gantry, where the locals had long ago created handholds and guide ropes. “That radio she turned on—she must have signaled someone offshore.”

  “Renata,” said Sahara. “Can you cover us?”

  “Any bright green head that pops up is getting shot in nanoseconds,” said Renata.

  Marisa looked back; the container stack they’d started in, now two blocks away, was the tallest in the area and, perched on the top of it, Renata would have a commanding view of La Huerta.

  “All right, then,” said Sahara. “Let’s do this.”

  Sahara went first, probing the gantry with one foot and then, when she was confident it wasn’t going to collapse beneath her, putting her full weight on it. She found a handhold, and then another, working her way out toward Zenaida; Omar followed, with Marisa taking up the rear. Wind whipped past her on every side, and she gripped the handholds with white-knuckle terror.

  Step by step. Inch by inch.

  “There’s Bennett,” said Bao.

  “I can’t see her,” said Renata.

  “She’s under the gantry,” said Anja. “Crawling along the bottom of the crane like a spider.”

  “I don’t have a shot,” said Renata. “She can cross the whole gantry like that.”

  “Don’t shoot through the crane!” shouted Sahara. “This thing could collapse any second as it is.”

  “Call Fang and Jaya,” said Marisa. “They were researching ways to stop Bennett—it’s now or never, so let’s pray they’ve got something.”

  “Zenaida’s reached the second crane,” said Sahara. “We have to hurry.”

  Marisa was halfway across, with nothing but a broken metal ruin to stop her from a five-story plummet to the concrete below.

  “We’ve got a perfect view but no weapons,” said Bao.

  “Give me your nulis,” said Anja. “I can hit her with their tasers.”

  “Transferring control,” said Sahara. There was a pause, and Marisa held her breath as she reached for another handhold. “Done. Knock her off this thing.”

  “Yessss,” said Anja. Marisa watched as Cameron and Camilla froze in midair, hovering in place, and then dove down on either side of the crane as Anja steered them toward her quarry. Marisa didn’t dare to blink into the camera feed and watch their progress; the crane curved up as it crossed the gap, and she was now nearly six stories up. Maybe seven. She reached the ends of the handholds, and tentatively gripped the rope instead. It was connected to the crane by metal bars every few meters, like a railing, but it wiggled and jerked in her hand, moved by the wind and by Omar and Sahara clinging tightly to it ahead of her. She took a step, barely able to breathe for the fear of it.

  “Scheiss!” yelled Anja. “She dropped them both!”

  “She killed my nulis?” said Sahara.

  “It was unreal,” said Bao. “Bennett let go with both hands, stood upside down on the bottom of the crane, and shot one with her gun. The other was behind her and she literally punched it out of the air.”

  “It was kind of awesome,” said Anja. “But now you’re all going to die so it’s hard to really enjoy it.”

  “Do something else, then!” shouted Omar.

  “We can try to run around to the far side of the canal,” said Bao, “but it’ll take us too long to get there. The crane’s the fastest way.”

  “She’s coming back,” said Sahara. “I reached the second crane, and Zenaida’s coming back toward me.”

  Marisa kept walking, holding tight to the guide rope, and reached the second crane just as Zenaida did. They were perched on the top of a small platform, so high in the air Marisa didn’t dare to guess at the measurement.

  Zenaida scowled. “Damn it, I told you to run. Move.” She pulled out her pistol, and Sahara and Marisa shuffled to the side.

  “Can you get a good shot from here?” asked Sahara.

 
“We’ll see.” Zenaida dropped to her knee, then all the way to her chest, trying to see the underside of the crane. She closed one eye, gripped the pistol in both hands, and fired a long burst. Bennett swung up and out of the way, dodging the gunshots and landing on the side of the crane.

  “There she is,” said Renata, and they heard the sound of her sniper rifle echoing through the air. Bennett jerked to the side, barely keeping her gecko grip on the crane; she dropped back down underneath it, one arm hanging loose, and scuttled across from one side of the crane to the other while Zenaida fired another long burst. The gun clicked, the giant ammo drum finally running dry, and Zenaida cursed under her breath. Renata fired again, but Bennett hadn’t gone far enough out, and the shot missed.

  Bennett hung below the gantry, staring at them, her right arm and both of her feet clinging to the metal like a spider. Her left arm dangled uselessly, dripping blood.

  “Hurts, doesn’t it?” called Marisa. She raised her taser and spoke more softly. “Is this our last weapon?”

  “Yup,” said Sahara.

  Marisa steeled her nerves. “Awesome.”

  Ramira Bennett pulled her dart gun from her waist, aimed, and fired twice. Both Zenaida and Omar started slumping to the floor, hit by her sedatives, and Marisa and Sahara hurried to grab them before they rolled off the sides of the narrow platform. Bennett moved forward, but Marisa raised her taser again, aiming at her with one hand while steadying Omar with her other.

  “You don’t have the range,” said Bennett.

  “So come closer,” said Marisa.

  Bennett smirked, raised her pistol again, and fired. It clicked on an empty chamber, and it was Marisa’s turn to smirk. “All those gengineered upgrades, and you can’t count your rounds?”

  Bennett said nothing, watching her, then put the pistol away. She was standing on the bottom of the crane with only her gengineered gecko toes to support her. She winced, adjusting her broken arm, and started unzipping her black stealth bodysuit.

  “Oh, come on,” said Bao. “Is she doing what I think she’s doing?”

  “It’s not as hot as you think,” said Marisa.

  “It is kind of hot,” said Sahara.

  “Don’t forget,” said Anja. “Her body is a weapon; if she’s stripping, it’s because she has another trick up her sleeve. No pun intended.”

  Bennett zipped her bodysuit to the waist, then disconnected her belt. The top half of the bodysuit came loose, like a shirt, and she shrugged it off with another grimace of pain, pulling it over her broken arm and then discarding it. It fluttered to the ground, drifting on the wind, and Bennett stood upside down in nothing but black pants and a tight black sports bra. Her bright green skin glowed in the sun, and she spread her good arm to the side, exposing a thin membrane between her arm and her torso. The membrane shone almost yellow in the sun, with small red blood vessels tracing pathways like the veins of a leaf.

  “What is she doing?” asked Marisa.

  “She’s eating,” said Fang, her voice jumping into the shared call. “She uses photosynthesis for energy—it’s one of the few things I was able to find out about her. That’s why she’s green. If she’s uncovering skin, she’s probably trying to maximize her surface area.”

  “She’s trying to accelerate her healing,” said Sahara.

  “Jaya and I managed to find an old archive,” said Fang. “They upgraded to better server hardware and only wiped about half the data from their old one. If she’s the same model of gene-tech we found the plans for, she has chlorophyll in her skin, gecko-style microhairs in her fingers and toes, and poison sacs in her neck. And of course the eyes, which you already know about.”

  “So how do we stop her?” asked Sahara.

  “I wish we knew,” said Jaya. “We haven’t found any weaknesses yet.”

  “I still have a taser,” said Marisa. “All it takes is one shot.”

  “She’s way harder to hit than you think,” said Anja. “Trust me. She’s even dodged most of Renata’s shots, and she can’t even see those coming.”

  “Fire that gun and miss,” said Sahara, “and we lose every advantage we have.”

  “And you’ll definitely miss,” said Anja.

  “I’m not giving up!” Marisa shouted. She waved the taser in Bennett’s direction. “Stop waiting around and bring it, lady! You scared? I’ll give you two million volts, right in that pretty green face—” Marisa stopped suddenly. Gengineering. Bennett did have a weakness, and Marisa had just figured it out. “Hey, Sahara,” she asked, keeping the taser trained on Bennett, “will my dad’s liver survive the fall from here?”

  Bennett narrowed her eyes, wary and alert.

  “In a stasis bag?” asked Sahara. “Probably. Unless she has a bomb in her pocket she forgot to tell us about, the bag will protect it from anything.”

  “I will not fall,” said Bennett. “I am a highly trained operative—”

  “Blah blah blah,” said Marisa. “You’re a ZooMorrow MyPet with a pretty face and some gecko toes. And who knows how gecko toes work?”

  “They use Van der Waals forces,” said Fang, her voice playing through the speaker on Omar’s tablet. “Very tiny interactions between the microhairs on her body and the electrons in whatever she’s touching. The more surface area the better, because it creates a stronger electrical field, but unless you can reduce the surface area she’s clinging to—”

  “Short version,” said Marisa. “Your weakness is science.” She adjusted her aim, pointing the taser at the crane gantry itself, and fired. The prongs hit the metal with a weak fizzle—two million volts spread across an entire loading crane was barely noticeable—but it was enough. The charge in the taser restructured the electrical field around Bennett’s feet, and her gecko toes couldn’t hold on anymore. She dropped like a stone.

  “Yes!” screamed Sahara.

  Marisa leaned over. The green woman plummeted, then spread her arms, extending her inner membrane to its full width; it caught the air, slowing her fall, and she swooped to the ground with a cry of pain and triumph. She looked up at Marisa, cradling her broken arm and screaming in fury—

  —and then Bao and Anja both shot her with their tasers from behind, and she fell to the ground in an unconscious heap.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Sahara held Omar steady, perched high on the top of the crane, and looked at the unconscious boy with a smirk. “I’m just glad it wasn’t me this time,” she said. “Those tranqs really mess with your head.”

  “Anja, can you check the stasis bag?” asked Marisa. She held Zenaida tightly, making sure nobody else fell. “Make sure Papi’s liver’s okay.” She waited through an agonizing silence until Anja finally answered.

  “Liver’s good. Stasis bag’s indicators are green all around.”

  “Gracias a dios,” said Marisa, and closed her eyes in silent prayer. She sent her mother a message, letting her know she had the liver back. It would still cost them a fortune to have it reimplanted—they’d probably lose the restaurant—but they could save her papi. “How are we going to get down?” she asked.

  “We have to wait for them to wake up,” said Sahara. “These tranqs wear off in about thirty minutes.”

  Marisa couldn’t think of any better ideas, so she kept her arms on Zenaida and waited.

  Down on the ground, Anja and Bao tied up Bennett as tightly as they could, and then laid her flat on the edge of the dock and hung her head over the side, puncturing each of the biotoxin sacs on her neck and draining them into the water.

  “Renata, you out there?” asked Marisa. “You’re being pretty quiet.”

  Renata didn’t answer.

  “That’s no good,” said Anja.

  “And here comes the long-awaited betrayal,” said Sahara. “Activating Cygnus Protocol . . . now.”

  “What’s Cygnus Protocol?” asked Bao. “It sounds exciting.”

  “It’s just a text message,” said Sahara. “The exciting part comes later.”

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nbsp; “She’s waking up,” said Marisa, watching Zenaida begin to stir. She was recovering far ahead of schedule, and Marisa wondered if one of her genhancements was some kind of metabolic boost. The woman opened her eyes, and Marisa smiled. “Qué onda?”

  “What’s going on?” asked Zenaida. She blinked, still trying to clear her head. “Where’s the ZooMorrow agent? Where—oh, damn it, she shot me.” She tried to sit up. “We’ve got to move.”

  “Definitely don’t move,” said Marisa. “The agent’s tied up, and you’re still too groggy to walk down off this thing, so give it a minute.”

  Zenaida’s eyes went wide. “How’d you tie her up?”

  “Zip ties,” said Marisa.

  Zenaida closed her eyes. “That’s obviously not what I meant.”

  “Marisa bent the laws of physics to her will,” said Sahara. “She hacked a genhancement.”

  “You can’t hack a gen . . .” Zenaida trailed off, and shook her head. “Obviously you can. I’ve underestimated you since you got here, and it’s time I started taking you seriously.”

  “Thanks,” said Marisa. “Most people never get there.”

  “I still have to go, though,” said Zenaida, and finally managed to sit up. She tapped the white radio rod in her pocket. “This is a signal beacon for an offshore flotilla—an independent commune in international waters. I’ll be safe there.”

  “You can’t just leave again,” said Marisa.

  “You want me to stay here?” asked Zenaida. “After all this?” She shook her head. “With ZooMorrow and Francisco and who knows how many other people all looking for me, I think it’s time to clear out again. Maybe I’ll go back to Lagos—though if anyone asks, you didn’t hear me say that.”

  “ZooMorrow’s not looking for you anymore,” said Sahara. She picked up Omar’s tablet and turned it to face Zenaida. Fang and Jaya were on it, in a split-screen video call.