“Syndicate.” Aaron gestured at the pile. “The girl’s brother was one of you guys, Div 1. Officer Cory Braddon. He died a couple years ago when his cover was compromised. She’s been giving ’em the business via the GlobeNet since.”
“How’s this related to your uhh…”
“I needed someone found. She’s a deck jockey. Complete accident all this happened while she was helping me.”
“What about him?” The cop nodded to Darwin.
“He’s… Some poor fringer sod who got stuck in the wrong place at the wrong time. Whatever deal he had with these Syndicate chaps went sour. I got here right as they shot him in the back.” Aaron stared at his former friend. His assessment wasn’t an overt lie, but it felt like one.
Glimmering bands of light danced in the dust. The thrum of idling ion drives built into a roar before rushing away and up. Aaron continued staring at Darwin as the MedVan’s engine noise faded to silence and took the brilliant light with it.
“Are you sure that’s it?”
“Informant,” whispered Aaron. “Syndicate killed him for leading me here. I feel bad for the guy.”
“Yeah. Poor bastard. Come on.”
The officer walked him to a row of idling blue and white Division 1 patrol craft. He paused, seemed to think for a few seconds, and turned back toward him. “I sure hope you’re not fuckin’ with me.”
Aaron lacked the motivation to smile or crack wise. He stared through a blast hole in the wall, at about where Darwin’s body lay under a sheet of white plastic. After a momentary pause, he shook his head in a faint gesture of ‘no.’
“Best of luck.” The cop patted him on the shoulder and trudged back inside.
Aaron squinted into the wind, trying to pick out the departing MedVan from the thousand spots of light in the sky over the shadowed city, drifting like embers above a black fire.
ircuit fragments littered the floor between Aaron’s feet. The optics Darwin had planted in the battered frictionless orb would send no more secrets out of the room. He’d found them tucked into one of the vectored thrust portals, almost in plain sight had he studied the orb with any care. Rats had made a nest of the gouge in the wall where the ‘stone’ had hit. His angry telekinetic lash-out should have destroyed the camera or at least knocked it loose.
It wasn’t in there then. He tilted the tiny lens between thumb and index finger. How did Talis know to target Darwin?
He looked up at the dark blue curtains separating Darwin’s sanctum from the rest of the apartment. He still hadn’t gone inside. Staring at it for another hour wouldn’t make the cloth part to reveal Darwin’s half-awake smile. He smiled at the memory of a sleepy roommate stumbling in his boxers, scratching his ass on the way to the bathroom. Whatever the man had been, he didn’t deserve the kind of end fate gave him.
Aaron loathed Talis.
The thought of her clenched his fists and made his arms shake. The hatred he felt for her had bled over to women in general. To him, all of them had been various degrees of Talis, sucking the life out of anything and everything they could for their own personal gain. Not Allison. She wasn’t one of them. He slouched forward, cradling his head in both hands. Oppressive silence reinforced the truth of Darwin’s lack of being. As annoying as he’d found the man so often, he’d become something of a best friend. Another month or two, and he’d have probably thought of the man more like a brother.
He’d expected the worst from Strawberry, but she wasn’t one of them either. That poor girl only wanted to survive. Neither was Andrea. Like Darwin, she’d been a victim of circumstance. A convenient piece of bait victimized so the Syndicate could get to him. Another girl he’d gotten hurt. Shimmer… No, that wasn’t his fault. She’d done that to herself clashing virtual sabers with organized crime ever since her brother died.
Aaron stomped on the camera bits, yelling random obscenities as he hopped about, plucking chips and bits of plastic from his bare foot.
Maybe the Syndicate’s want to kill her wasn’t his doing, but he had led them to her. Shimmer wasn’t one of them. Nor was Anna. He pulled Allison’s nameplate out of his pocket and held it up.
“Is this you? Have you been trying to tell me something?” He touched his forehead to the cold metal. “One horrible bint, not all of ’em.”
He sat up, scowling at the cloth door. “Damn it all, Darwin. Why’d you have to choose this flat?”
“Are you seeing ghosts now too?” Anna’s voice echoed in the outer hall.
Aaron twitched with the urge to hide the mood on his face, but wound up not bothering. She stepped over the wreckage of a former shelf cabinet he’d smashed hours ago upon waking.
“Rough morning?” She looked at it. “You got drunk last night?”
“No, that’s the problem.” He managed a weak smile, but her affect seemed cold.
“Aurora’s got an idea where your bogie woman is. Archon wants this dealt with soon and you to stop mucking about.”
“Right.” He stood. “S’pose then I’ll either be done with it or dead by tonight.”
Anna’s eyes hardened. “Don’t do anything stupid. We need you.”
“Did I do something wrong?” He reached for his suit. Boxers wouldn’t be a great outfit to wear to a murder, but it would make for a good clip on the NewsNet. “You’re a bit frigid today.”
“We’re wasting too much time with this.” She faced away from him. “Hurry up.”
“I got too close, didn’t I?” He shrugged into his jacket. “You’re right. You’re Archon’s girl. Sorry, luv. I can’t turn it off.”
“You conceited bastard.” She whirled about, pointing. The soft smile on his face seemed to leech the vitriol from her glare. “It’s… complicated.”
He took the E-90 out of the drawer, shrugged into its shoulder harness, and positioned the weapon under his left arm. “I understand. I was trying to see Allison in you, and… it was wrong of me to step over that line.”
Anna poked her boot at some debris. “You’re different than James. You’re both right arrogant bastards, but you don’t take yourself quite as seriously. He’s always busy.”
“Well, you should tell him to get unbusy then.” Aaron buttoned his jacket up as he walked over. “You’re certainly worth it. Half the world’s psionics can wait a tick.”
She cut off a laugh. “We’ll be late. Come on.”
Sector 156 was south of the approximate end of former California. The great wall stopped a few miles away, leaving the rolling nothingness of the Badlands in plain sight, seventy-five meters below. To the south, the city plates ended in an uneven row, as though the builders decided one day to walk off the job and never return. One of the two ramps down gleamed in the sun, visible from where they stood at the edge, leading to the continuation of civilization at ground level. Few people wanted to live on the edge of the plates, especially without the protection of the wall. Ten miles of private airport as well as cheap storage space occupied a strip along the precipice.
Aaron felt nothing as he stared out over individual houses in the distance. Separate properties in the scrub brush stayed in the price range of the middle class due to the horrible heat, bugs, and inflated rumors of what crawled out from under the city after dark. His gaze settled on a large sprawling field of junk, arranged in six towering rows behind a one-story ranch house. A man in a red flannel shirt, jeans, and a cowboy hat carried a box to the bed of a large black pickup truck. Behind him, a young teenaged girl (also in a flannel shirt and jeans) with long brown hair repacked tools into a case. The pair seemed happy, even if they did work with junk.
Cold air swept over him. He took a step away from the edge, shivering from an unexpected patch of freezing air. Silvery fog billowed out of nowhere and coalesced into Aurora. When the sight of her nude figure did nothing for him, Aaron figured he’d reached the point of not giving fuck all about what happened to him. She seemed disappointed her bouncing boobs barely got a sideways glance.
“Lauren!�
�� whisper-yelled Anna. “You’re out in the street.”
“I’m aware of that.” Unconcerned, she winked at Aaron. “Your friend has got a compound set up out in the southeast. Far enough away to count as Badlands. No police. Seems like it used to be some kind of heavy factory. From the half-built hulls, I’d say they made Mars transport shuttles or some such thing there.”
Anna took her shin-length coat off and draped it over Aurora from behind. “Even if you don’t care, you’ll attract attention.”
“That is kind of the point, dear.” Aurora didn’t resist being covered. “She’s got a handful of mercenaries, but they don’t appear to be expecting trouble… at least not from the direction of the city. All their heavy weapons are set up facing east.”
“Talis is there now?” asked Aaron.
Aurora peeled the coat off and handed it back to Anna. “Yes. Don’t worry about me, hon. I’ll find someone to wear once we get there.”
She dissipated into fog, which swirled around Anna and seeped into her.
“Keep my hands to myself,” said Anna.
“I wouldn’t dream of doing anything naughty,” said Anna.
Aaron rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to know.”
Three miles from the city, Anna brought their stolen compact car to a halt. Its tiny, ten-inch tires coupled with the packed earth road had made the PubTran taxi’s seats seem like paradise, even without the extra ‘comfort enhancer.’ A blast of hot, dry air rushed in as both side doors swung up and open, right angle flaps touched above the centerline. His first breath of rust-flavored dust made him cough. Anna took off her coat, wadded it up, and threw it into the car. Not a full minute outside, and already, her forehead glistened with sweat. Aaron ditched his suit jacket as well and pulled the first three buttons of his cobalt blue shirt open.
“I think we overdressed for this party.”
“If you think I’m going starkers like Miss Freak, you’re mistaken.”
Aaron pushed the car door closed. “That was a neat trick with the car.”
“Power switch is just an electric circuit. Little juice in the right place and it doesn’t matter if it senses the right ’mini inside.”
Aaron shielded his eyes with a hand, gazing at where a vast abandoned structure turned the near horizon from dirt brown to metallic. Swaths of darkness shifted behind the blur of heat haze, flecked with the occasional harsh glint of sun. Incomplete outlines of colony shuttles loomed over the place, tattered fragments of tarp and wire drifted from exposed frame struts. Hulking shapes creaked in the occasional breeze, sitting like a row of dinosaurs come to a tar pit to die. Rusting superstructure studded with long-broken construction arms surrounded their bloated forms. Aurora had misinterpreted their size; these ships would have carried people three thousand at a time to new homes on other planets.
“There.” Anna pointed. “There’s an old tram shaft that’ll lead right into the place.”
“I don’t see it,” said Anna.
“How can you not?” Her left arm waved until her right hand caught it by the wrist and forced it down. “It’s right bloody there.”
Aaron, whistling innocently, walked in the general direction indicated.
“Fine then,” said Anna. “I’ll go on ahead.”
Frigid vapor seeped out of her, coalesced into a directional mass, and washed over him. Not an unpleasant sensation given the 106-degree heat. Alas, it didn’t last long. Anna jogged to catch up, looking angry.
“Aurora kept rambling. This place’s been shut down for at least three decades. Company got taken over, something about money.”
Aaron surveyed the spread of decaying industry. “Isn’t it always?”
“Cheaper to build in zero g.”
They walked in silence for about fifteen minutes before a dancing, waving, and quite naked Aurora caught their eye up ahead. She stood on a patch of metal grate, near a circular tunnel large enough for a monorail. Tumbleweeds had built up in the opening, which moaned as the wind crossed it. As soon as they saw her, she dissipated into mist once more.
“She enjoys that entirely too much.” Aaron stuffed shaking hands into his pockets. “I should’ve had a beer or six.”
“Withdrawal?”
“Either that or nerves.”
“Cats and dogs,” muttered Anna.
Aaron laughed. “Random.”
They picked their way among a mass of windblown debris, weeds, branches, trash, and a few wire bundles. Enough holes marred the ceiling to allow sunlight into the shaft, though it didn’t do much for Aaron’s concerns of a cave in. A two-foot wide rail ran down the centerline, dividing the walkable floor into two separate channels. Old grate panels set into concrete provided a flat surface above a rat’s nest of wires and components. At least out of direct sunlight, the tunnel offered a cooler environment. Beetles as big as potatoes scurried out of their way.
Anna walked up ahead, voice echoing despite her whisper. “Cats and dogs living together. Total anarchy.”
“You’ve been spending too much time around Aurora. You’re starting to go loopy.”
“Wembley 2411. All-star match. Do you remember Geer and Ainsley?”
“We’re back to this again?” Aaron chuckled. “Geer did outscore him. You should be happy.”
“Aye, but their team lost. Your man Ainsley spent more time interfering with Geer than playing.”
“Why is it every time Manchester does poorly, we did something? Is it that unfathomable to consider the prospect that Manchester―or a Manchester player―is fully capable of playing like shite sometimes?”
Anna slowed enough for Aaron to catch up and walk in step on the other side of the rail. He peered up past some hanging vines, also dead, at the underside of a starship’s nose end. Closer, it looked even more ruined. Rust had eaten its way out from the seams in its skin, more vines and weeds clung to pockets packed by windblown sand. A baritone laugh echoed off the metal plating, scaring away a few dark birds from superstructure far overhead.
Forty some odd yards later, Anna broke the uncomfortable silence. “Their team might’ve won if Ainsley wasn’t cocking about. A Manchester player and an Arsenal player on the same side, and all he could do was interfere with him.”
“Are you trying to say you expect me to cause problems?” He winked. “Besides, Ainsley wasn’t interfering with Geer, he was just showboating.”
“Speaking of showboating.” Anna pointed forward.
Aaron peeled his gaze away from her, albeit reluctantly. The tunnel opened up about thirty yards ahead where a debris field outlined the former presence of a train platform. Not far from the end stood an armored six-wheeled A3V painted in military green. Next to it, a gleaming full-conversion cyborg. Aaron figured him for a Class 3. He was only seven feet tall, and the body attempted to follow the basic contours of an over-muscled human man rendered in gleaming chrome. Shrouds on both arms hinted at the presence of large sword-style blades, as if the giant assault rifle in its right hand wasn’t deadly enough.
Two heads stuck out of the armored assault vehicle, one behind a twin 30mm cannon at the center point, the other emerged to the shoulders from a hatch by the front left corner. All three of them seemed focused on something occurring deeper in the compound.
“I suppose this is where we abandon stealth.”
Anna stretched her arms and swiveled her head around. “Indeed. Please don’t do something stupid.”
“You don’t have to come with me.” The presence of the E-90 under his left arm filled him with dread. “I don’t want to…”
“You won’t.” Anna glanced at him, ice in her eyes. “I’ll put you on your ass before you shoot me.”
Aaron grinned. “Manchester always does go for the injury play. You want the borg or the truck?”
“That’s just something you wankers say when you lose.” She advanced. “Borg.”
he A3V, officially known as the Agile Armored Assault Vehicle, was a semi-amphibious six-whee
led troop carrier weighing about sixteen tons or thereabout, depending on configuration. Prior to the advent of plastisteel, such a vehicle could’ve been thirty or more. This one lacked add-on modules such as anti-aircraft batteries, missile racks, or high-energy particle cannons. Despite everything he had seen in recent history, Aaron’s confidence at being able to lift such a machine fell square in the realm of ‘yeah right’ as he took a wide stance. Two weeks before Allison died, he’d lost a bet in the squad room when he failed to hold a desk aloft for ten minutes. Sure, other telekinetics could shove cars around, but none of them could type with their power or fasten their boots―all five snaps at once. Subtlety had been the major reason he’d gotten away with his frictionless ‘tweaking’ so long. A scoundrel’s grin formed.
None of them could open a bra from thirty meters away either.
He focused on the military truck’s mass. The strain showed on his face right away. Six individual suspensions groaned as wheels went from supporting the thing to dangling from it. Aaron grunted, adding the useless gesture of lifting his arms as if they bore great weight. Foot by foot, the A3V glided upward at a pace suggesting it emerged from the muck of a bog. Shouting men inside spun about looking for some way to explain their flying, wheeled, brick.
As the bottom of the tires passed the nine-foot mark, the cyborg mercenary spotted him. Darkness in the tunnel couldn’t conceal him or Anna from thermal scanners. The borg raised his rifle. Anna reached forward, clenched her fist, and drew her arm back toward her chest.
Headlights exploded in a shower of sparks. Lightning crackled and hissed, connecting the tip end of the A3V to the cyborg’s back for less than a full second. His scream started human before it melted into digital scraps that sounded like high speed rotary saws grinding together. The distorted roar pitch-shifted down and stopped seconds later. The chrome body went rigid, shaking and convulsing on his feet.
Aaron coughed at the reek of burned electronics and pushed the vehicle higher while creeping forward out of the tunnel to keep it in view. Sparks crawled up and down the chrome figure; tiny threads of blue light buzzed and lapped at the ground. Anna jolted him again, this time with a smaller streamer of lightning from her outstretched hand.
Zero Rogue Page 32
