“ How is that strange?” He leaned an elbow on the table, studying her face.
“Well… you have the commissioner suddenly changing her mind about trade arrangements with the ACC after refusing to open hearings on the subject for years. She’s a die-hard member of the Old Guard and doesn’t trust anyone born outside the UCF. Commissioner Vernon is even suspicious there’s a secessionist movement in the north which wants to re-establish a separate Canada. Don’t you think it’s a little strange a security manager from her building shows up dead, with blackened eyes, and then she changes her mind so quickly?”
“Coincidental, I think. What possible connection could there be?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. It bugs me though. Sounds so similar to the way the EnMesh CEO, Graeme something, flipped after years of resisting trade, and they found one of their engineers dead in the same condition.”
Konstantin sipped his wine, his moment of thought interrupted by a chuckle at the delivery bot floating up the spiral staircase to the bathroom door. “It does indeed appear to stretch the limits of coincidence.”
“I think there might be some kind of spirit messing around with people, sort of a Theodore with malice instead of perversion.”
“Theodore?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“He’s a ghost who keeps sticking his head where it doesn’t belong.”
Konstantin squinted at the wall. The flick of his thumbnail over the neck of his glass sent a ping into the air every few seconds.
“Sorry, I… Talking about dead people is killing the mood.”
His eyes went to her while the rest of his face remained stony. After a few seconds of staring, he smiled. Kirsten felt ashamed of herself for feeling relief at not having displeased him. She looked at her empty plate. Is this what love is supposed to feel like? Why do I feel so dependent on him already? Damn you, Mother. All I ever wanted was for you not to hate me. Now I’m doing the same thing with him.
Kirsten almost screamed when the NetMini rang again. It was Nila.
“K, I’m sorry to be a pain in your ass.” Evan’s crying echoed in the background. “He just came out of a nap, he’s hysterical. Wants you. I can’t calm him down.” Nila lowered her voice. “He’s sobbing like three-year-old.”
The pinging ceased. Kirsten stared at the motionless thumb, no longer flicking the glass. The stem, like her, seemed fragile in his grasp.
“Tell him I’m coming.” Kirsten stood. “Konstantin, I’m so sorry. Evan’s having a fit and I can’t leave him alone.”
“It is alright, Kirsten. Go to your son.” He smiled.
Is that anger or disappointment. “I’m sorry.”
“You could use one of the nests,” said Michael, gesturing at the red doors.
Konstantin chuckled without looking at either of them.
I stare at shoes, he has his wine glass. Kirsten stooped to hug him, but he caught her hand and kissed it.
“Such a thing is too crass, I fear. No rose opens before its time.” He let her hand slip through his fingers. “Please allow me to offer you a ride?”
Alexi emerged from a concealed door and approached the table at a brisk stride.
“Looks like you’re busy. Besides, I don’t want to impose any more―I’ve already ruined the night.”
“The fault is mine.” Konstantin stood. “I should have known better than to subject you to such coarse surroundings. How unlike the rest of the world you are, Kirsten.” He flashed an alluring smile. “In the company of angels.”
She blushed.
Alexi put a hand on his shoulder, whispering in Russian.
Kirsten excused herself, covering her eyes as she passed through the debauchery of the first floor. She scooted past a codpiece-wearing doorman, unable to resist a laugh at the fuzzy yellow smiley face between his legs, and walked to the curb. Despite the chill, the outside air brought with it a sense of relief. The oppressive atmosphere of the club gone, she was free of the vicarious embarrassment from the goings on, as well as her own feelings of inadequacy. Once again, Konstantin had taken her to be surrounded by people in his social strata, and she did not feel any more welcome this time around.
NetMini held to her lips, worry for Evan came through in her uneasy tone. “PubTran Taxi please, current location.”
The device beeped. “Service request accepted. A car is en route to your location. Thank you for using PubTran.”
orry gripped Kirsten in a chill worse than the wind that found every gap in the clingy black ribbon passing itself off as a dress. Within a few seconds of being outside, Konstantin had become the last thought on her mind. What could have made Evan panic? Oh, please don’t let him have nightmares of his birth mother. She fidgeted with the gold bracelet, tapping her foot. Anxiety over how angry Konstantin had seemed added out of the blue to her concern for Evan. His eyes had not done a good job of concealing it. The uncharacteristic urge to run back inside and beg his forgiveness collided with her need to protect Evan.
The impact left her doubled over with a knot in her stomach.
Mechanical whirring to the left attracted her attention toward the closest cross street to a club she hoped she would never see again. Expecting the PubTran, she forced herself to stand as she swallowed a trickle of bile. Rather than a small blue-grey car, a pair of head-sized orb bots glided out onto the sidewalk. They paused, rotating about until they faced in her general direction.
Kirsten frowned at them; they did not offer her a ride out of here. They did, however, offer her mind a respite from her attempt to choose a lesser angst. Just as she started to turn away, disregarding them, small iris doors snapped open with a click. Dim cobalt-blue light rings surrounded the inner-workings of a ballistic handgun mechanism inside the sphere; both of which aimed at her.
“Shit!” she yelled, forgetting about the ten thousand credits of silk wrapped around her, and dove to the ground between two parked cars.
The sound of screaming pedestrians, gunfire, and shattering glass filled the night. With the initial shock gone, she crawled to the street side and wobbled up into a squat against a white FMC Comet, a ground-only car that tried to be luxury and sporty at the same time. Why would anyone spend a hundred grand on a car in this city? Fragments of shot-out windows snowed over her.
While the orbs continued to calculate the odds of their bullets piercing the car with enough velocity left in the projectile to kill their target, Kirsten yanked her purse open and got her hand around the E-90. At that precise moment, her NetMini lit up, playing an audio message.
“Thank you for choosing PubTran for your transportation needs. We apologize for the inconvenience, however it appears you are involved in a violence-event at this time. We are unable to provide you with a conveyance until such time as the violence event has ended. If you do not survive the violence event, please pass along PubTran Corporation’s consolations to your next of kin.”
Kirsten gawked at her bag. “NetMini, call Captain Eze.”
Nothing.
The shooting paused; light and shadow shifted through the interior of the car as the orbs repositioned. Glowing hover-inducers flooded the street with wavering light.
“NetMini!” yelled Kirsten.
If the small slab-like device had arms, it would have folded them. “My name is Siri.”
“I don’t give a flying eff what your name is, I’m being shot at. Call Eze.”
Silence.
Two bullets tore through the car just by her head. Kirsten gasped and backpedaled. Her left ankle wobbled on the high heel beneath it. She fell on her ass a half second before a ripple of automatic fire shredded the door she had been leaning on.
“If you can’t even respect me enough to use my proper name, then why should I care you’re being shot at? I have feelings too,” said a petulant voice from her purse.
The orbs glided around the front bumper, finding an unobstructed line of sight. Sprawled on her rear end, she fired one handed. An azure beam surged between the orbs, ca
using them to swivel inward as if looking at each other. The one on the right dropped several inches straight down as she fired again, neatly avoiding her shot.
Her third try clipped the other one, leaving a glowing cosmetic scorch on its shell. She fired twice more, hitting only clouds, as she scooted backwards and hid behind the car. Before the orbs could chase, she rolled onto her knees and leapt into an awkward run. The dress, wound around her body down to her shins, hobbled her gait for a few strides. It sensed her effort to sprint and slid up under its own power, forming a short skirt rather than a winding cloth strip. Now that she reached a full run, black silken bows thwapped past each other as her ankles crossed in stride. Shots clanked off the metal sidewalk, glancing into nearby buildings or cars. A few helpful citizens had joined in, taking pot shots at the spheres with even less success than her attempt.
I’m taking Evan back to the Funzone, and I’m going to spend two hours on that silly orb game. Flailing her arms to control what amounted to a perpetual state of falling over, Kirsten cringed under a spray of sparks as she ducked a corner. Her right heel-strut skidded out from under her on the turn, dumping her into a tumble. After coming to a halt, Kirsten curled up and tugged at the bow, which defied her. She scowled at the crippling things tied on to her legs. Every damned time I wear heels… Covered in rainwater and discarded nutri-bar wrappers, she gave up trying to untie the knots and sat there, aiming two-handed at the corner.
When the first orb came around, she fired. The shot went straight through it, causing the internals to flare bright orange before the entire thing detonated in a spray of flaming bits. The other one hesitated. Bands of blue light two blocks down the alley slid along the surface of buildings, castoff glow from more hover units. Three orbs in a group zoomed toward her.
“What the fuck?”
Kirsten fumbled at the side of a trash-crusher box, looking for a handhold to pull herself up. She looked around with a quick left-right glance. Satisfied it was clear, she jumped up and ran in a careening, ungainly wobble. Half a block later, she wiped out again and landed flat on her chest in a forward slide. Her stomach and thighs squeaked on the plastisteel surface. Adrenaline did a wonderful job of hiding the pain, and she crawled as fast as she could on numb knees behind another large dumpster as bullets clicked off the ground behind her.
She huddled in a seated position with her back against the fragrant metal, yanking at the strips of silk around her ankles. The knots slipped loose, and she kicked the shoes across the alley.
I am never wearing shoes I cannot run in again. Who the hell is after me this time?
An orb came over the top of the trash-crusher, pointed straight down on her. She yelped, and lunged forward as it fired. Kirsten somersaulted upright, having a great deal more traction and balance with no shoes. She was grateful the orbs’ strength was in how difficult they were to hit; their targeting system left quite a bit to be desired. Despite that, flecks of debris and shattered projectiles were at the backs of her legs like a swarm of angry hornets as near misses chased her twenty yards down the alley to the nearest corner.
This time, she did not wipe out on the turn. Kirsten leaned hard into a sprint, pumping her arms and timing her breaths with her footfalls. At the end of the block, the area seemed to have gone downhill rather fast. The Decadenz club, a haven for people with too much money and too little self-respect (in Kirsten’s opinion) was close to a grey zone. She whirled around a right turn, and pressed her body against a building that stank of piss. Hair down and wild around her face, she panted while aiming at the spot from which she expected the spherical assassins to appear. Sweat ran in trickles down her back. Kirsten did not want to know what she had stepped in that caused her feet to stick to the metal surface.
Her finger teased at the trigger, waiting. Great. I’m in a goddamn grey zone wrapped in a glorified scarf. This is not my night. “NetMini…”
A squeaky “ hmmf” came out of her purse.
“I am so getting a NinTek next.”
She almost felt bad for the tiny voice that burst into tears.
“Don’t give me that. You’re being a little bitch while I’m getting fucking shot at!”
“I’m sorry,” it chirped. “But, you’re always so rude to me.”
The orbs appeared. Kirsten fired. The alley flashed with deep blue light from each pulse. Forty yards away, two of the murder balls blasted apart amid orange-yellow fire. Free of the weight of the orb, one hover core took off skyward like a missile, leaving a brilliant trail of sparks. It managed to reach the tenth floor before its spiral trajectory caused it to smash into the wall with a dull clank. It bounced between buildings on either side of the alley a few times before it detonated in a dazzling shower of sparks that crept like spiders down the metal walls.
Kirsten ducked away from the corner as the remaining two orbs ripped full-auto in her direction. Cringing from the noise and debris spray, she decided to run rather than risk popping out for another shot. The sensation of her soles peeling and unpeeling off the ground, picking up any stray piece of light trash, brought her dinner back into her throat. The scent of garbage and urine in the air only got worse the farther she ran.
After another left, a grey concrete building came into view. None of the street level windows had any glass left in them. The interior was dark and wide open―but sunken. Without a second thought, she hopped up onto the windowsill, which was about knee-high from the sidewalk. Finding the place empty, save for a few cube desks and upturned chairs, she jumped down and ran to crawl into a hollow under one of the sturdier looking workstations.
Roaches the size of butter sticks scurried out of her way as she tucked herself into a ball. The whirring, electronic noise of the orbs outside grew louder; then faded. She wanted to sigh with relief, but held it in. Shivering made enough noise already. Tucking her E-90 between her knees, Kirsten grabbed her NetMini. A pink cartoon kitten-face displayed with fat raindrop-tears flying out of its eyes.
“Please don’t make a sound,” she whispered.
The kitten nodded and faded out to the normal control interface. At least the models with AIs recognized their owners, and she did not need to put in a passcode. Kirsten stared at her filthy toes and frowned at how little her garment covered.
“I called for help” scrolled through the air just above the device.
Kirsten thumbed her way through several screens, placing an order for an athletic suit and sneakers. She paid the extra fifty credits for “super rush” delivery. At the sound of hover-inducers returning, she clamped the screen to her chest to hide the holographic emitter’s light. The orbs went by again, missing her. A minute of nauseating, cold silence passed with her staring at her now-grimy legs. The E-90 offered some reassurance, just from holding it.
Light swam over the walls as a rectangular bot floated into the room. She tensed, squeezing her weapon tight. As the source of the glow edged around the desk, she leaned out from cover and aimed at it. A handful of yellow holographic exclamation points and question marks appeared in the air around it. “Please, no hurt” appeared below a cartoon child’s face.
She relaxed.
The delivery bot shuddered, nosing closer to her as though it was a battered dog.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “I’m getting chased by orbs.”
It pivoted back, abandoning the hesitance in its approach. The delivery bot sniffed at her purse where the NetMini was and chirped.
“Shh.” Kirsten waved in a ‘keep it down’ gesture. Amazing how these things seem to convey mood.
The front doors clicked open, and she removed two boxes. After a happy little wobble, the delivery bot whirled about and took off. She shredded both plastic cartons, removing a one-piece dark blue general-purpose athletic suit. A pinch at the gem on her collarbone rendered the expensive body-drape limp and it fell off, leaving her clad only in panties for as long as it took her to leap into the new garment. A quick-mesh fastener closed it from crotch to throat. The grey sn
eakers adjusted themselves to her feet at the touch of a button.
Kirsten looked down at herself and scowled. Amazing how not being half-naked makes me feel confident. Now, she wanted to go bot hunting rather than hide. Don’t be stupid, they’re still orbs. A jogging suit won’t make you a better shot. Not wanting to waste so much money, she rolled the expensive body drape into a silk log and stuffed it in her purse. Konstantin would be pissed at me if I lost it. Oh, no. Maybe I should go back for the shoes.
She spun to face heavy metal scraping behind her. A refrigerator-sized cabinet, some manner of old network storage array, glided out of the path of a large assault bot. The body was as big as a guard dog, with eight gunmetal blue legs pulling it through a gap in the wall. It shifted, angling itself at her. Kirsten did not give it the chance to fire. Several blasts split it in two jittering halves, her Class 4 laser making short work of its armor plating.
Kirsten kissed the E-90. Sure, there were higher-classed laser weapons, but both were rifle sized. As far as pistols went, there was nothing more powerful without going into plasma weaponry―which the police could not get their hands on. Sure, the E90 had over-penetration problems most times―but she adored it at that moment. Dots of light swarmed at the far end of the room, the size of a quarter of a city block. The derelict office she chose to hide in was, for the most part, wide-open space with only a few walls. The pursuing orbs had gone around the building, having missed her. Now, catty-corner to where she stood, they decided to cut through the ground floor rather than move around the outside.
“Dammit, how the hell did they find me?” She shot once, a near miss, before running for the window.
From the inside, the bottom of the window was at the level of her face. Kirsten leapt up, hitting the windowsill with her chest as she wrapped her arms over it. Thunder roared; bullets pulverized the concrete around her to dust as she pulled her body through the hole and slithered on her belly into the alley.
Division Zero: Thrall Page 15
