“I, uhh, can’t stay long. If they find out I’m talking to a cop they’d―”
“Ex-cop,” said Darwin.
“Oh. That why all you got’s a nametag? Zero huh? That’s cool. I dated a psionic once. I don’t see what the big deal is.” She offered a weak smile, but couldn’t look at him or hide her faint tremble. “Allison’s an odd name for a guy.”
“My wife.” Aaron pulled the jacket into his lap, grabbing at where the pocket should be. Relief washed over him at the sense of a small metal bar under the fabric. “Thanks.”
The luminous tattoos made her eyes seem darker. “I, uhh… Sorry.”
Aaron pulled his boxers out of the wad of clothing and put them on.
“’Bout damn time,” said Darwin.
Aaron extended a middle finger in his friend’s direction while he fished out his NetMini. As soon as it recognized his fingerprint, it warned him of forty-six unauthorized attempts to open it. He disregarded the notice, assuming the suspect stood right in front of him, and flipped through a few screens. He went to the GlobeNet presence of a sporting goods seller and ordered a motorbike helmet and a gym bag.
Strawberry looked around the room, biting her lip.
“What’re you waitin’ on?” asked Darwin.
“Uhh, nothing.”
“I think she’s expectin’ you to give her the routine ’bout gettin’ offa the street, find social services or some shit. Maybe go to a colony adoption.” Darwin looked her up and down. “Seventeen. Damn I’m good.”
She rolled her eyes. “He already mentioned the colony thing.”
Aaron pulled his undershirt on, wilding his hair. “If she wanted to get off the street, she’d get off the street.” He snatched his pants up with a telekinetic fling. “She’s not goin’ to take the word of a wanker like me, and I’m not wastin’ my breath on it.”
“You said somethin’ about food. Offer still there?” She glanced at the door. “Can’t get pubsist since I’m not eighteen yet. They’d detain me.”
“Military’s always hiring,” said Darwin.
“He went there already too.” She gave him a patronizing glare. “You look homeless. Why don’t you join?”
“Too old.” He shifted and grumbled. “I’m past thirty.”
Aaron mouthed “forty” without lending voice to it as he cinched his belt, making her giggle.
A metallic tap sounded from the door.
“Like I told pasty here… I ain’t takin no fuckin’ bullets for some corporate ass war.” She moved to answer it.
“You’re more likely to take a bullet in the city than you are in the military.” Aaron slipped his shirt on and buttoned it. “Especially with your line of work. You know a working prostitute is four point two times more likely to get shot than a Division 1 patrol officer?”
“No shit?” asked Darwin.
A delivery bot the size of a footlocker glided into the room, seeking Aaron’s NetMini. It chirped a happy tone when it got close and opened a side hatch. Once he unloaded his purchases, it zipped away.
“What the hell is that for?” asked Darwin.
Aaron put on the helmet.
He closed the visor, patted it twice, and went outside where he pivoted on one heel in a military about-face, planted his palms on the metal wall, and drove his head into it as hard as he could. Aaron staggered back, close to falling over the flimsy railing. Darwin and Strawberry emerged, both staring. Aaron recovered his balance and rammed his head into the wall again before removing the helmet and putting it in the bag.
“I s’pose the least I can do for you returnin’ my kit is feed ya. Ready to go eat, luv?”
She nodded.
“God damn,” said Darwin. “You got some strange fuckety-boo ways of dealin’ with anger.”
he nametag remained cold to the touch no matter how long Aaron held it. With Darwin next to him in the back seat of a PubTran taxi, he didn’t voice an apology to Allison for nearly losing it, though a mantra of contrition repeated in his mind. In another life, he might’ve taken Strawberry in on a solicitation pop. Lettin’ ’er spend a night or two in a clean bed with real food and a complimentary med scan seems a right bit of charitable. If the officers running the holding facility figured out she was only seventeen, she’d be off the streets for a while longer. Maybe it would have scared her into a change of course.
Probably not. Can’t save the ones who don’t want it.
It wasn’t his place to give a shit anymore.
“So what the heck was up with that helmet thing?” asked Darwin.
Aaron tilted the trinket in his fingers, letting light play off the surface. “Like you said, mate. I got strange methods of coping.”
“Yeah, but―”
The blare of a NetMini erupted from Darwin’s coat pocket. His startled face set Aaron off on a laughing fit. When the device came out, the holographic bust of a young woman with coffee-colored skin and iridescent powder blue hair appeared. Glittery silver-teal paint formed a butterfly shape over her eyes, and a faint set of faerie wings fluttered in the air behind her. Instead of eyes, almond-shaped spots of bright aqua light glowed from within her head. She opened her mouth, but Darwin held up a finger.
“One sec, Shim.” He stared at Aaron. “What the hell is so damn funny?”
“It struck me as amusing a fringer’s got a NetMini.”
“Everyone’s got one, man. How’s a guy supposed to beg if I ain’t got no way ta take in the creds?” Darwin flashed a disaster of a grin at the hologram. “Hello sweetness.”
Blur at the bottom of the image hinted at folded arms. “The two of you made one hell of a shitstorm out of a simple plant.”
“Don’t look at me, sweetness. Talk ta the English Apocalypse here.”
The flickering image rotated toward Aaron and frowned. “That’s the guy? How’d you wind up sharing a squat with a shafter like that? I feel like I need a shower just from the way he’s looking at me.”
Aaron squinted. “The fault doesn’t all lie on one person’s shoulders, ’ere. Ask this tosser about roulette.”
“You went gambling?” Shimmer glared at Darwin. “I bet you made him cheat for you.” She seethed out a long “ooooh.”
Darwin cringed.
Shimmer threw her hands up. “I should just walk away from this clusterfuck right now.”
Darwin almost said something twice before she whipped her ire back at Aaron.
“Do you have any idea how much of a pain in the ass it was to erase that little temper tantrum of yours?”
“Temper tantrum?” Aaron tucked his wife’s nameplate back in his pocket. “Look here, girl. What happened there wasn’t my idea, nor could I have done fuck all to stop it, other than not bloody cheating at fucking roulette.” He glared in Darwin’s direction for a few seconds. “People died, and you’ve got the gall to give me lip for creating a ‘scene?’ Your little electronic tricks won’t slow down the people that’ll get involved now.”
“The only ones who can identify you didn’t make it,” she said. “They won’t know who they’re looking for.”
“Oh, I’m sure they will.” Aaron tapped his temple with two fingers. “Psionics, luv. They’ll recognize the effect.”
“You’ve done that before?” Darwin cocked an eyebrow.
“Not by choice. I don’t”―he thrust his arms forward―“Do it. It just happens when someone tries to get into my brain. Their telepath read you like a bloody wiki article, and knew I was helping you. It went to shite when they tried to burrow into my head.”
Shimmer frowned.
“He might be tellin’ the truth,” said Darwin. “He was pretty well fucked afterwards. I’d never seen him that hung-over.”
“You got drunk too?” she shrieked. “Unbelievable.”
“No,” droned Aaron. “He meant hung-over as a metaphor.”
“Look, Shim… I got it all covered. I know that setup we talked about is gonna work.” He patted his pocket. “The Horus is fine.
We’ll get it done for you. We’ll be in and out before anyone feels it”―he smiled at Aaron―“without gambling.”
Aaron picked his eye with his middle finger.
“You look familiar,” said Shimmer.
“I have one of those faces.”
“Yeah.” She glanced to the side. “Five minutes in the room with me, you’d be trying to talk my pants off. I know the type.”
Aaron twirled his hand at the side of his head in a mock formal bow. “Standing offer.”
She rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t handle this ride.” The hologram rotated to Darwin. “I can’t believe I’m not hanging up on you two idiots already, but my tits are in a vice. I need that Horus planted at Infinity. Fuck it up this time, and you’ll know why they say hell hath no fury.”
The car went dark as she killed the call.
“Right bit of cheery, that one.” Aaron rubbed his face. “Like getting scolded by a constipated woodchuck.”
“She’s one of the better deck jockeys this side of the Badlands.” Darwin tucked his two-generation-old NetMini into his coat. “Word is Syndicate’s been after her for years and still can’t find her. Anyone who can stay under their radar is good.”
“She’s lucky. Probably a kid or maybe not even a girl.” Aaron undid his collar button. “Have you ever seen her? Might even be an AI. Syndicate couldn’t find a person what don’t exist.”
“No, just on holo-calls. You think? ’Cep for fuck dolls, AIs don’t usually refer to themselves as havin’ tits. Anyway, I got us a way in. Won’t have nothin’ ta worry about.”
Darwin rummaged in a bag between his feet, pulling out a pair of white smocks. On the breast pocket of each, a smiling cartoon chef with outstretched arms embraced the words “Black Hat Catering.”
Aaron stared at him. “You don’t seriously…”
“I do.” Darwin wagged his eyebrows.
“This is ridiculous.”
“You wouldn’t be the first frictionless player to get into food service.”
Aaron glared.
Darwin shrugged. “Shimmer picked the place. Said the name made her laugh, some kinda inside joke wit’ net heads. We even got an ‘in’ with the outfit; they know we’re there and will conveniently fail to notice.”
“They’re not the blokes I’m worried about.”
ell, this doesn’t look like a casino,” said Aaron.
His voice echoed across the back end of a warehouse full of white vans. Four lines of six boxy vehicles queued up behind garage doors. Garlic stood out as the prominent fragrance in the air permeating the building, crushing a hint of chicken or steak; two breaths in, he found himself too hungry to concentrate on much of anything but food.
Sounds of human activity drifted in from beyond the parked trucks. Aaron made a face of distinct unease as he wiped his palms down the front of his white smock.
A crowd of three-foot-diameter orb bots glided overhead in precise flight paths, weaving in a mesmerizing aerial ballet. As each one loaded its cargo of food trays in the back end of a waiting truck and floated out of the way, another came in behind it.
Darwin walked along a row of vans, stopping at the third vehicle in the second line. “Are all cops this slow? Come on, this is our ride.”
Aaron ducked under sixty pounds of chicken parmesan on his way to catch up to his friend, who exchanged a few brief words in Spanish with a heavyset driver before climbing into the back seat. The man swiveled around as Aaron took the seat right behind him, wearing a smile so wide his eyes seemed to close. In addition to the same white smock and dark pants, he wore a yellow cloth about his neck, knotted in front. Excess weight lent a circular quality to his face.
Aaron hoped the scent of fish came from the back and not the driver. He leaned to his right, closer to Darwin, whispering, “Why don’t we have those yellow things.”
“He’s like a supervisor or something. Soup chef or some shit.”
“Sous chef?” Aaron stifled a chuckle.
“Welcome, Mister Pryce,” said the driver. His eyes opened wide, his gesturing became a pointing finger. “Aaron? Aaron Pryce? ¡Mierda!” He grabbed Aaron’s hand in both of his, shaking it. “It is an honor to meet you! I never missed a match.” The driver pulled down the sun visor, revealing an impressive collection of Arsenal F.C. pins before leaning out the window. “Jorge, Mike, Vlad! Get your asses over here!” He fell into his seat, rocking the van. “I’m Arnie, Arnie Hernandez.”
Aaron wasn’t sure if he should smile or bury his face in his hands. “Hello, Arnie.”
“What’s that about?” asked Darwin.
Arnie launched into an explanation of Aaron’s career as one of the more famous strikers for the Arsenal Frictionless Club.
“Mister Pryce led the league in goals per game for three years running.”
Aaron forced a smile. “It’s so nice to have fans.”
A handful of men ran up on the door, each wanting to shake hands with him. He graciously obliged.
“He was on track to be the best player in the game, ’til he had his leg thing.” Arnie shook his head. “Damn shame.”
“Thanks.” Aaron leaned on the wall wishing they’d get on with their day, but not to the point of wanting to slam the door in the faces of his past life’s glory.
“Mister low profile,” muttered Darwin.
“I hope your leg is feeling better, Mister Pryce.” Arnie whirled to face forward as rapid-fire Spanish erupted from the console. He nodded at no one until it stopped. “Lo siento, lo siento. Me voy.”
The vans ahead of them had already left. Aaron didn’t need to know Spanish to understand Arnie’s boss chewed him out for slacking.
“Leg’s got its good days and bad days. Wound up having to get a MyoFiber graft to replace most of my right calf. League rules calls it ‘augmented,’ so I’m barred from playing in the standard class.” Aaron shivered, grateful that his cyberware existed only as a convenient cover story. “I don’t feel augmented, and I have no interest in getting turned into raspberry jam by those meatheads. What’s in the back? All I can smell is garlic and fish.”
“That’s a pity, Mister Price.” Arnie steered them around a gradual turn. “Sushi. The Infinity don’t get the usual shit. Fried stuff, chicken parmesan, ziti, all the finger foods, they’re big with the corporate meetings. Not for the Infinity though, they like the expensive stuff: sushi, caviar, orbital-grown seafood… the whole nine. That mess of bait back there, hundred grand easy.”
Aaron settled into the seat and closed his eyes. “I’m in the wrong damn business. Wake me up when we get there.”
A dozen employees of Black Hat Catering swarmed the food prep area in the first basement level of the Infinity Casino. Getting in the service entrance had been as easy as Darwin predicted, no doubt helped along by the other workers treating them as if they belonged. Aaron leaned on the wall by an interior door, scowling at nothing in particular.
Darwin pushed a hovering cart with several plastic cartons of sushi separated into individual meal portions. At the look on Aaron’s face, he paused. “Somethin’ wrong?”
“Wasn’t expecting to run into fans.”
“That’s a heck of a way to react. You should be grateful. Bastards like you got more credit than you know what to do with, and people love your asses for runnin’ around in circles.”
Aaron looked off at nothing. “I wasn’t as good as he made me out to be.”
Darwin blew air through his teeth. “That sounds like guilt.” He handed over a pair of thin silver frames with no lenses, two prongs curved inward on each side where glass or plastic ought to be.
“Great. Everything I see will be in parenthetical.”
“What?” asked Darwin.
“Forget it.” Aaron slipped it on.
Within seconds, an eight-inch faerie with dark skin and blue hair appeared in front of him. Butterfly wings made of silver glitter thrummed behind her, raining pixie dust that ceased existing once it fell past her
feet. She seemed nude, but glowing spots brightened enough to obscure vision at the critical points.
Is every hacker a head case? “She wants to nanny us along then?”
The faerie scoffed. “Hardly. It’s going to be much faster for me to get the doors for you. Darwin will be busy feeding the admins and the floor security, so he won’t be able to work his usual magic. Not that he’d be fast enough anyway.”
Darwin grumbled. “I ain’t that slow… or that old.”
Shimmer continued looking at Aaron, presumably because Darwin saw the same vision of her glaring at him in his glasses. “Can you open six electronic locks simultaneously?”
“Well, I… er, no.” Darwin stared at the tray.
“Besides, I can tell you where the patrollers are in case one of them decides to be dutiful and not run for the free, expensive food.”
“Won’t they find the glasses suspect?” asked Aaron.
Darwin patted him on the shoulder. “If anyone asks, say you’re new and using it for a building map.”
It was rare for the man to say something both so obvious and that made perfect sense. Aaron raised both eyebrows, feeling a modicum of stupid for not thinking of it himself. “Fair point.”
They went through the door and down a red-floored hallway to an elevator. The doors opened without prompting, and the elevator selected one floor down before either of them could touch the controls.
“Just let her drive, man.”
Aaron exhaled. A pair of security officers hanging out by an alcove full of vendomats jumped as the elevator arrived. Both had compact rifles and charcoal-grey body armor. The woman tensed and put a hand on her weapon.
Her associate scrunched his eyebrows together. “You boys get lost? Executives are upstairs.”
“Miss West sent this down for Andrea’s five-year anniversary,” squeaked Shimmer.
Aaron put on the smile that shed a thousand panties. “It’s an anniversary gift from Miss West, for Andrea.”
The man inherited some of the other officer’s apprehension. “West wouldn’t send us premium toilet paper.”
Zero Rogue Page 6
