by Pat Cadigan
Koyomi and Tanji had been right, Hugo thought, unable to move. This guy was enormous. Why hadn’t he seen that?
Because he’d only seen what Vector was paying, and he’d wanted to show Vector he could do the job right. The money and the need to prove something had made him stupid when he should have been observant and cautious.
The cyborg’s biceps opened and shiny mechanisms unfolded from each one. Both had large pincers on the end. They grabbed Hugo under his arms and lifted him up until he was eye-to-eye with the cyborg, his feet dangling freely above the floor. The pincers squeezed so hard Hugo felt as if his flesh were being crushed. He jammed his lips together, refusing to cry out in pain.
“Better go home, kid.” The cyborg ruffled Hugo’s hair with his regular right hand in a parody of affection. “I bet your momma’s worried sick about you.” Still holding Hugo up, he turned around and tossed Hugo against the closed door. Hugo rebounded and fell on his tailbone for the second time.
The pain was actually blinding. Hugo couldn’t help crying out and didn’t care. Ignoring the jeering laughter, he scrambled to his feet and fled. His tailbone was still throbbing as he stumbled across the street, looking for Koyomi.
“What the hell did you do in there?” Koyomi demanded, materialising out of the shadows. “You always said we shouldn’t call attention to ourselves on a job. By the way, did you see the cyborg? He went in just before you came out. I called Tanji. He’s on his way.”
Hugo groaned, barely aware of the sound of Tanji’s gyro coming towards them as he rubbed one armpit and then the other. The cyborg hadn’t had to hurt him that much; he’d simply enjoyed it. Bastard, Hugo thought, biting back tears from the pain under his arms.
“Where you want to take him?” Tanji asked. “I saw a couple places—”
“It’s off,” Hugo growled, straightening up. His tailbone gave an intense throb, as if to remind him it hurt too. “Go home. We’ll meet up tomorrow and make a new plan.”
“Really?” Koyomi blinked at him.
“Why?” Tanji asked, looking equally baffled.
“Because I said so, that’s why,” Hugo said testily.
Tanji’s face lost all expression. “Oh, so it’s like that now?”
“No, it’s not,” Hugo said in a heavy voice. Tanji was unmoved and Koyomi looked wary. “You guys were right. He’s big. We need a couple more people with us.”
Tanji looked from Hugo to the bar and back again. “What happened in there?”
“Nothing,” Hugo said. “I just got a good look at him and my gut said not tonight.”
“Okay,” Tanji said. “I never argue with the gut either.” Koyomi nodded in agreement, climbing on the back of Tanji’s gyro so he could give her a ride home.
Hugo waited until they were gone before he got on his own gyro. Then he got off again and walked it to the alley. Driving the truck was marginally less painful, but he certainly couldn’t park that at the curb in front of his apartment.
Covering it with the tarp at the loading dock proved to be a serious challenge. Hugo had to climb up on the cab, then onto the trailer to cover it properly, and even that hurt. Then he had to ride his gyro home, unless he wanted to sleep in the back of the truck with it.
He was seriously tempted, but he could see there wasn’t much ventilation. He’d wake up sick. And his ass and his armpits would be worse. It always hurt more the next day.
Hugo started to walk the gyro away from the loading dock towards the cathedral and suddenly heard voices—familiar voices. He couldn’t quite place them, but he knew they weren’t any of his friends. They were coming from inside the cathedral, which wasn’t good. Everybody around here knew better than to go in there.
It was the crew from south-town who had kicked the shit out of him.
He moved behind a partially broken-down wall and watched the front entrance through a gap in the bricks. He didn’t have to wait long before three guys came out, all hopped up on what they’d found stashed inside. The first one was the guy who had given Hugo a farewell kick in the kidneys. The second one Hugo didn’t recognise; the third had gold-tipped hair.
“Hey, guys,” the leader said cheerfully as the other two leaped up to bump chests. “Muffle it till we get home, will ya?”
Abruptly the flatscreen mounted on a building across the street lit up, making all three of them jump. The screen turned on whenever its sensors detected more than two people at the cathedral. Hugo chuckled silently as they stood transfixed by the images. Apparently they didn’t have a lot of outdoor flatscreens in southie.
“Jeez, do bounty hunters hang around here?” asked one of the guys. “Look at all those marks!”
“If you see a mark, call the Factory,” said the leader, running a hand through his silly hair. “Right now, they could hear you without a phone.”
Hugo spotted a gleam of copper on his wrist.
“Why would a dealer keep their stuff here?” said the second guy. “Where a screen lights up with marks for bounty hunters? That’s nuts!”
“That’s awfully good stuff!” said the first guy. That was the signal for the two of them to jump up and bump chests again.
“You took too much. I’m gonna have to throw you guys in a cold shower,” said the leader, impatient now.
“I don’t see why we don’t just take the whole thing and sell it ourselves,” said the first guy.
“Because they’d find out we stole it and come after us,” said the leader, speaking slowly and distinctly, as if to a small child. “And nobody’d lift a finger to help us.”
“We could kick their asses. And then shut out everybody who didn’t have our back,” said the second guy.
“Then who would we sell to?” the leader asked. The other two guys looked sheepish. The leader threw his arms around their shoulders. “Listen, do I keep you guys around to think?”
They shook their heads.
“That’s right. Why do I keep you around?” He waited a beat. “To party with! That’s why you’re here and why we’re keeping this little treasure to ourselves—just us three. Nobody else in the crew needs to know about it.”
“How’d you find out about it anyway?” the second guy asked him. “Just tell us that.”
“I can’t betray a confidence.” The leader made a sad face. “All I’ll say is, drug dealers oughta be a lot nicer to the people they cheat on their main squeeze with and not break up with them by text. Because that really hurts their feelings and makes them tell a friend about where the dealer stashes their goodies. Now, c’mon, the bus stop’s a block away and I wanna get home before dawn.”
“When’re we coming back?” the second guy asked plaintively.
“Two, three days,” said the leader magnanimously.
“Make it two?” the first guy said hopefully.
Hugo stared after them as they ambled up the street. All jacked up on stolen drugs and they were going back to south-town by bus? These guys were geniuses. He stifled a laugh. In southie they probably were.
After a bit, he straightened up; his armpits and tailbone let him know what they thought of that, but now he didn’t feel it quite so much. He knew what they’d been sampling. The Duchess had been stashing inventory in the cathedral for ages. Hugo wasn’t especially fond of her or any other drug dealer. However, she’d never hassled him about climbing up to the spire platform.
Hugo discovered there was no riding position that didn’t hurt. Taking pressure off his tailbone put more pressure on his armpits and vice versa. He managed to make it home trading off one pain for another. It was just his luck to get hurt in two of the most laughable—and inconvenient—places on the human body.
And, once again, he couldn’t tell anybody. Oh, yeah, the guy had me by the armpits. Hurt? I thought I was gonna die. Tanji would laugh till he peed. Koyomi would probably have the decency to try not to. God only knew what they’d say if he told them it hurt to sit down. They’d be forwarding him ads for spanking dominatrixes for the rest of
his life.
Dammit.
When he finally made it home, he took a few moments to make sure the lockbox was safe. Then he took a few more moments to count his credits, just in case he had miscounted last time and he actually had less than he thought. Or in case some miraculous increase had occurred courtesy of a Guardian Angel, or a Good Fairy, or a Secret Agent of the Universe on a mission to Make Life Fair—none of which he believed in, but what the hell did he know.
He hadn’t miscounted either way.
After putting the box back in its hiding place, Hugo stripped to his underwear, dropping his clothes on the floor around the bed. His tailbone objected to his lying on his back; his armpits didn’t much care for either side. When he rolled over onto his stomach, his armpits reminded him not to raise his arms or try to hug his pillow. Curling up into the foetal position was also no go, he discovered.
Eventually he found a position that gave him the least amount of pain and might actually let him get some sleep. He dozed off sometime after the sun came up, thinking that, for the first time, he could see how people might decide to swap out the parts they were born with for something less sensitive.
CHAPTER 14
“He’s intractable,” said Chiren.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Vector asked, annoyed.
She had definitely spoiled tonight’s special dinner, Chiren thought with bitter satisfaction. They were both having prime rib to celebrate the start of what was supposed to be Vector’s ongoing success with their super-chipped Paladin. She had barely touched her food, which also irked him. Any time she didn’t grovel in abject gratitude, it put his nose out of joint. The way things were going, he’d have to swap it for a cyber-nose.
“Well?” Vector said impatiently.
“He’s stubborn,” Chiren said. “Unmanageable. Doesn’t play well with anybody, even himself. Whatever team you put him on will walk out. Including the Factory practice team.”
Vector paused with his hand on the wine bottle. “You’re kidding.”
“I lost my sense of humour ages ago.”
Chiren heard the door behind her open—a bodyguard/waiter coming to see if they wanted anything. The service in Vector’s office was impeccable.
“Get out!” Vector barked. The door shut quickly. That would come back to bite him if there were any justice, Chiren thought. But there wasn’t; never had been.
“Talk to me,” Vector ordered her. “You’re at the stadium all the time. You know what’s going on better than I do.”
“He’s intractable,” Chiren said again. “Refuses to cooperate even when it’s in his best interests.”
“I got that the first time,” Vector said. “Unmanageable, people threatening to quit. What does he want?”
Chiren shrugged. “He wants what he wants when he wants it.”
“Ah.” Vector nodded knowingly. “Gratification.”
Sometimes she forgot how intelligent Vector was. She had to remember not to underestimate him.
“So get a handler to wrangle him and fetch whatever he wants.”
“That would be okay if he wanted lollipops,” Chiren said, cutting a piece of prime rib. “He wants the world to not be so slow. For everyone to love him. To win all the time without even trying, and not just Motorball.”
“Then get him a harem and a chorus of yes-men,” Vector said, exasperated.
“I tried that,” Chiren said. “Some things you can’t even pay yes-men enough to withstand.”
Vector threw up his hands. “What do you want from me? I got you the chip. You said you’d only put it in a cyborg sophisticated enough to handle that kind of acceleration, otherwise the chip would probably blow out all the nerves. So I got you sophisticated cyborg parts to save you the trouble of building them from scratch—you’re welcome, by the way—”
“So what do you want—a gold star?” Chiren gave a single hard laugh. “Those parts needed a lot of work before I could install the chip.”
“And you said you’d make him the best ever, even better than Grewishka before he crapped out and went back to the sewer. You made a lot of promises, and I put up with a lot from you—”
Chiren’s jaw dropped. “You put up with a lot, from me?”
“—and suddenly you can’t deliver because you’ve got all these problems,” Vector continued, as if she hadn’t spoken. “I don’t pay you to have problems. I pay you to build champions. Get him on the track for tomorrow’s game.”
Chiren cut some more prime rib for herself. “Well, there’s just a tiny little prob— difficulty,” she said.
“So? Fix it.”
“I’ll need a lot of help,” she said. “I mean, a lot.”
“So get a lot of help!” Vector was dangerously frustrated with her now. He had never hit her but sometimes he grabbed her arm and left a hand-shaped bruise.
“I said a lot. Everyone you can spare and everybody else.”
For a moment, Vector just glared at her. Then light dawned. “Oh, God.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “You can’t find him.”
“We have a winner,” Chiren said flatly.
“I just saw him last night at the stadium with his trainer. What happened?” asked Vector, his voice heavy.
“You did,” Chiren replied. “You inspired him. You left to go somewhere else more interesting, and he decided to follow your example. To go some place that didn’t piss him off so much, was what he told Ed on his way out.”
“So he rolled out?” Vector asked in disbelief.
“No, first he got Ed to put his feet back on.” Chiren glanced at Zalem; a wave of intense longing ran through her.
“Ed’s a moron,” Vector said, disgusted.
“No, Ed’s observant. He’s observed what happens when Chase doesn’t get his way. But don’t take my word for it. Let’s look at the highlights. Screen, please.”
A screen on the wall to Chiren’s left lit up. It was one of the very few things in Vector’s office that he allowed her to control. The videos she wanted were already cued up and waiting.
The first one showed Chase, in red-and-orange armour with a flame design, skating behind a group of Factory practice players. They barely qualified as Paladins, but they’d once been serious contenders for a championship before hard living, injuries and age had eroded their abilities. But they weren’t pushovers either—anyone who practised with them felt it the next day.
It didn’t take long for Chase to catch up with the practice team, who were obviously trying like hell to pull farther ahead. Chase began playing with them—letting them think they were getting away, then speeding up so he was practically on their heels before dropping back as if they were too fast for him.
“Is that new armour?” Vector asked.
“That’s what we told him. He won’t put on anything ‘pre-used’ or ‘pre-worn’.” Chiren made air quotes with her fingers.
On the screen, Chase had lowered his upper body and leaned forward, preparing to charge the Factory team. A second later there seemed to be an explosion that sent them flying in all directions, most of them parting company with at least one limb. Bright-blue cyber-blood splattered the track, the safety rail and the players themselves.
“Now that’s what I want to see my players doing on the track—taking apart the opposition,” Vector enthused. “How soon can we get more chips for all our Paladins?”
“As soon as they all get upgraded CNS and spinal cords. Oh, and I have to figure out how to fix it so they don’t go insane with rage,” Chiren said casually. “So not for a while yet.” Pause. “Maybe never.”
“Paladins have tempers,” Vector said, irritated. “They gotta be aggressive to play.”
God, for a smart man he could be so stupid, Chiren thought. “The chip accelerates aggression so it runs wild. Jashugan has the most self-control of any Paladin I ever saw, but with that chip in him, he’d go homicidal before he could get a grip. The chip would ruin him and his CNS.”
“Th
en we’ll have to develop a better chip and a better CNS,” Vector said, in a maddeningly reasonable tone. He might have been suggesting she carry an umbrella when it rained. “Whatever that is.”
“Central nervous system.” Chiren sighed. “You barge into the lab so much I’d have thought you’d picked up a few things.”
“Sometimes you think too much,” Vector said, glowering.
“That’s what you pay me to do—think. There’s more. Skip to Juggernaut,” she told the screen.
Juggernaut had four arms and, instead of legs, three wheels—a large one in front and two smaller ones behind. On the screen, he was racing along the track, visibly straining to go faster. Abruptly, the Motorball flew into the back of his head. If he’d been on skates, he’d have gone down immediately. Instead, his wheels shifted to counter his fluctuating balance. His upper body lurched, swayed and all four arms flailed as if he were attempting semaphore.
“Maybe we should’ve put the chip in Juggernaut,” Vector said. “All those arms and wheels would’ve kept it busy.”
“That’s not a bad idea, but the extra limbs would still have to be more complex than just arms and wheels,” Chiren said. “Limbs within limbs, motion within motion.”
Vector nodded. “Okay. I’ll put someone on that.”
Sure he would, Chiren thought as Chase appeared behind Juggernaut, this time in shining black armour. A box in the lower left-hand corner put their speed at 135 mph. Chase moved around to Juggernaut’s left and leaped up, spinning so rapidly that he kicked Juggernaut twice before he hit the track again. Juggernaut toppled over, wheels spinning.
Turning sharply, Chase went back to where Juggernaut was lying on his side, tore off one of his arms and began beating him with it.
Paladins swarmed around him, trying to make him stop. One of them, a deceptively delicate-looking woman in bright crimson, distracted Chase long enough for one of the others to get the arm away from him. Chase simply tore off another and began swinging at the other Paladins. Jashugan rolled onto the screen and tried to remonstrate.
