Chromed- Upgrade

by Richard Parry

  He took a pull from his cigarette. The tip of the Camel flared, as if sharing his anger. Julian glanced at the hole in the floor where the Federate’s box had stood. The concrete rim still glowed where the charge exploded. Whatever device their agent used was burning a channel into the Earth. It smoldered three stories deep.

  Julian wouldn’t climb in to check on whether there was anything worth saving. Someone on a lower pay grade can do that. Heat roiled from the pit, the air dancing above it.

  Men and women swarmed around him. Heavy light stands stood, illuminating the bar. Drones flitted through the air, stabs of red and blue lasing out to map the scene. Rain lashed and howled outside the building, gusts blowing water in through the hole in the roof. Julian flicked ash from the end of his cigarette, raising a hand to adjust his sunglasses. He walked to the body of his last remote. Those fuckers blew its head clean off.

  He wasn’t sure how the Apsel agent managed that. One minute, Julian had been about to get away free and clear, a new acquisition for Reed Interactive held close. The value of that acquisition was questionable, bought at a significant cost in vehicles and remotes. At least Metatech were paying the same bill.

  It wasn’t clean for any of them, even Apsel. They’d be scrutinizing their local operation, trying to plug a leak. That meant a little breathing room out on the streets. Metatech would want their percentage too, but Julian couldn’t even find their operative’s body.

  Of course. Julian had been shot by Metatech, not Apsel. He noted that on his internal ledger, adjusted his tie, and nudged his downed remote. “We need to make these stronger.”

  “Sir?” A tech paused beside him.

  “The remotes.” Julian pointed with his cigarette. “They don’t hold up in the field.”

  The tech looked at him, then down at the headless remote. “I … see. I’ll put it in the report.”

  “Be sure you do.” Julian dismissed the man, moving to the small huddle of people around Eckers. He pushed through to stand before the fat man. Eckers shied away from Julian, voice drying up from whatever lies he’d been dropping like coins into a wishing well.

  Near Eckers lay another man, silver recovery blanket wrapped around him like a shroud. His shemagh had been removed, revealing a face that could only be described as classically handsome. He was free of any clinic enhancements. A scan had shown him to be an illegal without augments of any kind.

  Time enough for him when he wakes up.

  “Mr. Eckers.” Julian smoothed his tie. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  “Uh,” offered Eckers. It was a pretty good start, considering his circumstances. Surrounded by syndicate people, an agent in front of him, Julian felt a tiny shred of respect the other man hadn’t tried running away.

  “I’m curious about something.” Julian swept his arm, encompassing the ruins of the bar. “We came here to negotiate in good faith. To purchase something from you, and I quote, worth ‘millions.’”

  “That’s right.” Eckers made to stand.

  Julian pushed him back down. “There’s one small problem.”

  “A problem?”

  “The problem is simple.” Julian smiled, showing perfect white teeth. “We’ve paid millions. Vehicles. Remotes. Let’s not talk about the billable rate of all these people. We’ve paid, Mr. Eckers. We’ve paid a lot.”

  “But—”

  “The problem is we’ve paid a lot and have nothing to show for it. Reed Interactive is not the most militaristic of the syndicates. You know this. We deal in … softer services.”

  “It wasn’t—”

  “But rest assured, Bernie — may I call you Bernie? Rest assured, Bernie, that we will either have what we’ve paid for, or you will never be seen again.” Julian flicked a speck of dust from the sleeve of his suit, then leaned close to Eckers. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”

  Eckers sneezed, and Julian drew back. Old flesh habits died hard; it’s not like the remote could catch anything from Eckers, or anyone else.

  “I been trying to tell these assholes,” Eckers nodded to the small group around him, “we were set up.”

  “Apsel knew,” said Julian. “They knew, and they sent a recovery team.”

  “Hey, that’s not on me.” Eckers stood. “Look what they did to my place. That shit’s on you.” He pointed at Julian’s chest.

  Julian looked down at the finger, then back to Eckers. “It’s on us? I’m interested to see where you’re going with this.”

  “I know who I told about this meet,” said the fat man. “I told exactly two assholes. You and that other clown—”

  “Metatech. You told us and Metatech.”

  “Yeah,” said Eckers. “So, the leak’s with you.”

  “That’s an interesting theory,” said Julian. “I have another. Would you like to hear it?”

  “Whatever.” Eckers shrugged. “You got a smoke?”

  Julian offered the Camels to Eckers, lighting one. “Okay, Bernie. Here’s my theory. You told Reed and Metatech you had Apsel tech to sell.”

  “Yeah,” said Eckers. “Because I did.”

  “Sure.” Julian spread his hands. “But what if — and this is hypothetical, of course — you only pretended to have Apsel tech to sell?”

  Eckers looked over his cigarette. “I’m not sure I follow, company man.”

  “What if this was all a pretty interesting ruse from Apsel? Take out rival syndicate resources and create a diversion?”

  “A diversion? Have you seen my fucking bar?”

  “Yes.” Julian nodded. “I’ve also seen destroyed assets outside of a significantly higher value. Do you understand my position?”

  Eckers took a long drag on the Camel. “I’ll play along. What do you think this was a diversion for, company man?”

  Julian grabbed the front of Eckers’ jacket, jerking the fat man closer. “We’ll find out.” He put his foot behind Eckers’ ankle, sweeping the man to the floor. The breath shot out of the fat man as he fell. Julian grabbed a chair, slamming the legs around Eckers’s shoulders, a cross strut pressed against the man’s throat. Julian straddled the chair, looking at Eckers while the man thrashed. He took a pull from his cigarette. “Bernie, there are two ways this can go.”

  Eckers continued to flail, veins on his neck standing out. He gagged.

  “See, Bernie, the two ways are like this. First way, I find out what’s going on here, and you and I part as friends. Comrades in action, with a common story to tell our kids.” Julian drew on his cigarette again. “The second is only good for one of us. I leave here with an unpleasant story to tell my kids. You leave here in a box, and no one cries at your funeral because they don’t even know you’ve died. You just disappear.” Julian leaned forward. Ecker’s lips turned blue. “Am I being fairly clear?”

  Someone to Julian’s right spoke, but he couldn’t understand the words. NO LINGUISTIC MATCH appeared on his overlay. The asshole with the shemagh had woken up. He looked at Julian as if he expected the syndicate agent to say something.

  “You’re in luck,” said Julian. “I’ve got someone else to talk to as well. I’ll need to split my attention between you two.” He stood, pulling the chair from the fat man’s throat. Eckers gasped a lungful of air as Julian turned to the other man. “Hi. I’m a representative from Reed Interactive, and we’re quite curious about the events of this evening.”

  The other man stood, tightening his shemagh as he glared at Julian. He spoke again, his tone angry and commanding. Julian flicked his cigarette butt away. “I understand you’re confused. You don’t know why the evening turned out this way. In that regard, we’re in the same boat. Ships on the same sea, if you like.”

  The man took a step toward Julian, his eyes narrowed. He said something short and sharp in his no-linguistic-match language, breath puffing the front of the shemagh as he raised a hand.

  Curious. Julian offered the man a cigarette, noting how the asshole’s eyes widened in surprise or shock. “Y
ou don’t smoke?” Julian shrugged, lighting a Camel for himself. He blew smoke into the other man’s face. “You should give it a try.”

  The other man blinked, coughed, then took a step back. The storm howled outside, rain finding its way in through the hole in the roof and the blasted windows. A couple of techs swore. Julian ignored them, watching as the man raised his hand again.

  Eckers howled. Men and women around the room clawed at their heads, screaming. Julian looked around, then back at the asshole. His eyes were savage but widened when they saw Julian still standing.

  “Ah, you didn’t expect that, did you?” Julian listened for a moment longer to the screaming before slamming a fist into the man’s stomach. He dropped like a sack of meal as the air went out of him. Julian drew on the cigarette before stamping down on the man’s hand. There was the crunch of bone, and the man cried out.

  Julian leaned forward. “I’m not really here. Whatever meat-based shit you’re trying to pull? We’ll work it out. It’s the kind of tech Reed is interested in. But first? It’s time for some education.”

  A tech staggered close, hand to his head. “Sir,” he wheezed.

  Julian turned. “Can’t you see I’m working?”

  “Yes, sir. But they’re not.” The tech jerked a thumb at a group who were supposed to be working by the windows. Cracked and broken glass above them let the rain inside. Three men, two women. All were standing dumb as stones. More curious. Julian pulled out his sidearm. “Clear the room.”

  “Sir?”

  “The room. Clear it.”

  The tech nodded. People were moving as orders passed over the link. They hurried outside, huddling against the rain. Julian walked to the five people near the window. “Hey, assholes. You’re not getting paid by the hour. Get back to work.”

  None of them moved. Their eyes were blank, staring into space. Julian waved his hand in front of a woman’s face. Her eyes didn’t track.

  A man to his left twitched, looking at Julian. He tried to grab the agent, but the lattice pulled Julian aside. He shot the man in the head, pulpy red spraying the wall. The body dropped. The other four turned as one to Julian. They shambled forward. “Eckers,” called Julian.

  Eckers stood behind the asshole with the shemagh. “You know how I said the rain was in the box?”

  “Yeah.” Julian pushed a woman back. He hated killing company assets. It had a small but statistically relevant negative effect on his bonus. Still, you don’t have to kill them. He raised the sidearm again, shooting her in each leg. She dropped without the usual scream he’d expected, trying to claw toward him. It bore further examination.

  Best keep another alive too. He shot a man in the legs, eying up the remaining two. Julian shrugged then shot them each once in the head. The two left alive continued to drag themselves across the floor. Julian walked back to the man from the sphere, looming over him. “What did you do to my people, asshole?” The man on the ground grinned through the pain of his broken hand as he spoke. NO LINGUISTIC MATCH flashed on Julian’s overlay again. “For crying out loud.”

  From outside, someone yelled in alarm. A woman screamed. There was a shot, then another, followed by the bass roar of a plasma weapon.

  Julian looked at Eckers. “Don’t move. I’m going to check this out.”

  “Sure.” Eckers looked at the man on the ground, massaging his throat.

  Julian walked to the door, opening it. Rain lashed the street. The men and women of his team clawed at each other as the wind howled. A woman near a vehicle fired her plasma rifle into the press of chaos.

  It was a lot to take in.

  Julian stepped into the rain, raising his sidearm. He shot the woman with the plasma cannon, her head exploding into ruin. The lattice pulled him hard to the left, a shotgun blast hitting the wall where he’d been standing. Julian kept firing until his weapon ran dry, then ejected the magazine, slapping in another one. He grabbed a screaming, gibbering man who ran at him, fingers clawing Julian’s face. The skin of his remote unmarked, Julian threw the man into the press of bodies.

  He keyed his uplink. “I’m going to need another team. And a Psych unit.” Julian turned away from the madness of the street, returning to the bar. He locked the door behind him.

  The asshole with the shemagh grinned at Julian. The grin fell away as Julian walked to him, reaching for the chair he’d used on Eckers. “We’ve got about ten minutes until the second team arrives.” Julian hauled the asshole into the chair. “Let’s see whether we can find common ground in that time, shall we?”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The light stabbing at Sadie’s eyes felt like a physical thing. A knife, right into her brain. She wanted to throw up as constant motion jarred her. Sadie was in what looked like a van. The feeling of nausea grew, raging like a dragon, and she almost retched.

  Instead, Sadie said, “Get that thing the fuck out of my face.” The light drew away. It was replaced by a woman, blond hair around a too-pretty face. Sadie turned away, coughing. Company woman. “You got a cigarette?”

  The company woman frowned. “You’ve got a concussion. I hardly think—”

  “You a doctor?” The vehicle bounced.

  Surprise crossed the woman’s face, like she was used to people knowing who or what she was. “No.”

  “Okay then. You got a cigarette?” Sadie rubbed her face, pulling her hand back with a hiss of pain. What the hell?

  Aldo grabbed her face, smashing her into the mirror. Glass fell away behind her, and she tumbled to the floor.

  “Fuck.” Sadie spat as she remembered, but the taste of Aldo Vast wouldn’t leave.

  “What is it?” asked the woman.

  “I left my guitar back there.” Sadie’s palms itched to hold it. She rubbed them against her leather pants. “How you getting on with that cigarette?”

  The woman turned away, a hint of a smile about her. Voices came from the front of the vehicle. Someone familiar.

  Do you know a back way out of here?

  I can remember now.

  Someone company. She could remember what he looked like, but not his name. Sadie touched her face again, careful as she let her fingers walk across her lips. Her lower jaw hurt, and her teeth felt loose. One of her eyes wasn’t working right, but her head didn’t hurt so bad anymore.

  The company woman offered her a pack of cigarettes, silver foils winking in the gloom. Sadie pulled one out, accepting the offered light. The woman had to strike the lighter twice before it caught.

  “Not a smoker then?” Sadie drew the delicious taste of the Treasurers in deep. Damn, they were good. The air cycler in the van wicked away the smoke as if it had never been, the interior cool and clean.

  The woman pocketed the pack. “No.”

  “He’s got good taste.” Sadie glanced at a small huddle near the van’s side door, then turned to the front. She could see the back of the driver’s head, the helmet a subtle white in the dim interior. The huddle moved, an arm extending to pull the blanket higher. “We got another passenger?”

  “Yes,” The company woman offered her hand. “I’m Jenni. Jenni Haraway.”

  Sadie returned the shake. “Apsel?”

  “What?” said Haraway.

  “I said, ‘Apsel.’ Like, are you with him?” She pointed with her chin to the driver.

  The driver glanced back, face hidden behind the helmet. “Don’t waste your time, Haraway. Bonus Round doesn’t trust people like us.”

  Bonus Round. Sadie smiled, then swallowed it. These are company people. You can’t trust them. She raised her voice. “That’s right, company man.” Sadie laughed. “What are the odds?”

  Haraway turned to look at the driver. “You know each other?”

  The driver focused on the road outside. Sadie couldn’t see the dash from where she sat, but the soft amber of the display reflected against the side of his helmet. The rain outside made visibility zero, the van’s windshield overlaid with wireframes of vehicles and buildings. He shrug
ged. “Sort of. I don’t mean to be rude, but—”

  White speared across the windshield as the night lit bright white, the amber wireframes invisible for a second. The driver swung the van hard right, Sadie falling to her side. Haraway grabbed onto a wall strap. The person in the bundle of blankets rocked against the wall.

  The van clunked as the driver worked the controls. Its drive kicked hard, and the machine pushed forward.

  Haraway glanced at Sadie, fingers gripped tight on her strap. “It’s been an interesting evening.”

  “Where’s Aldo?”

  Haraway looked puzzled. “Who’s Aldo?”

  “My drummer,” said Sadie. “Something else, once.”

  “Long black hair? Thin guy?”

  “Yeah. That’s him.”

  Haraway sighed. “I wouldn’t … let’s just get out of this first, okay?”

  Sadie glanced front. “He’s an asshole.”

  “Who?” Haraway followed her gaze. “Mason?”

  Mason Floyd. The name clicked back into place. Sadie took another pull on the cigarette. “Either one, I guess.”

  “Mason’s … efficient,” said Haraway. “I’m lucky he and Carter were there.”

  Sadie looked at the bundle of blankets. “That Carter?”

  “Her? No. Carter’s—”

  “Company. I get it.” Sadie ground the cigarette out against a van wall, ignoring Haraway’s frown. “Who’s that, then?”

  “A girl. I guess mid-teens.”

  “Not with Apsel?” Sadie took a better look at the van’s interior, picking out the colors. Ah. This isn’t an Apsel van. No asshat gold falcon. “Your evening’s not going well, is it?”

  “Why do you ask?” Haraway steadied herself against the wall as the van rocked again. Mason swore, then started tapping buttons. The drive spoke back, the whine increasing until it was ultrasonic. The wall of the van vibrated.

  “Aside from you fuckers abducting me?” Sadie laughed. “It’s not your van.”

  “Not our van?”

  “These aren’t Apsel colors.” Sadie waved an arm, a gesture that said look at all this shit. “Not very German, is it?”