The man turned at Masaru and sent a dozen rounds into the earth behind him, kicking up small mushroom clouds of dirt. With each stride, the wirepaths in his limbs traced threads of pain. Years spent training his mind and body allowed him to run at that speed without breaking bones.
He swerved, using a huge piece of wall to block return fire. Two steps later, he sprang into the air once again. The green man had aimed at the edge and was too slow to correct, not expecting his foe to come over the top. Masaru flew down behind an arc of gleaming Nano blade as the figure scrambled backwards. The clash sent a piece of rifle to each side, but did not strike flesh. The man appeared to skid, about to fall, but reversed without warning and slammed his fist into Masaru’s chest, turning him into a human missile.
The black samurai struck the chunk of wall with the small of his back and flipped over it before coming to rest flat on his stomach on the other side.
“It’s… a… doll.” Masaru croaked over the comm link.
Eldon ran forward, disregarding cover. Advancing behind a series of short bursts, he charged in an attempt to draw him away from the stunned Masaru. The green armor ducked behind the concrete as Eldon circled. Kenny stayed with Amber, training his rifle in their attacker’s direction but having no shot. Joey peeked up from his hiding place, but the games happened too far away to bother using a pistol.
Between a cybernetic punch to the chest, a butt-first flight into a large mound of concrete, and speedware toasting his own muscles, Masaru hurt. He tuned it out and forced himself back to his feet. He knew the armor saved his ass; that punch would have gone right through his chest without it. Masaru stumbled around the chunk of wall just in time to see the doll lunge at Eldon.
A sidearm block hit Eldon’s rifle with so much force it went flying out of his grip and broke the carrying strap. The weapon sailed off to the right and clattered over the top of another piece of wall. Eldon waved his arms to keep his balance as he took an involuntary step backwards. Masaru feigned a lunge, buying Eldon a few seconds.
The ex-marine found his footing and yanked the vibroknife off his belt. The green man’s head snapped back and forth between them. Masaru was well beyond angry at this point and did not fancy waiting for the stranger to make the first move. The armor lunged away from his attack, diving at Eldon. Ready for it, Eldon slid under the punch and scored a nice gash down the thigh with the hissing knife.
The blade went through the armor with ease, sending sparks into the air. As the vibroblade opened the man’s thigh, it exposed only mechanical parts. Eldon’s adrenaline went to the roof. This was a doll, and getting into a knife fight with a doll ranked high on the chart of stupid, just below wing surfing a dropship through the upper atmosphere. Fear had no hold in Eldon’s mind as his training took over. There would be plenty of time to say “holy shit” about what he just did after the threat was gone.
Attempting to capitalize on the sudden change of momentum, Eldon made a quick swiping stroke for the doll’s head. It leaned back just enough for the blade to pass by and hammered Eldon with a left cross to the side of the helmet. The impact sent an echoing crack through the area, and Eldon head first into the ground like a dart.
Kenny angled for a shot, but bodies were so close he chose not to risk it. The figure turned on Masaru but underestimated his speed. Masaru flowed around the graceless attack, exploiting its miscalculation. He whirled under the swinging arm and rammed the Nano katana to the hilt through its chest. Its limbs fell listless as soon as the blade stopped. Blood spurted out along the edge on both sides. Eldon got back to his feet, his reflexive attack stalled at the sight of red.
Dolls should not bleed.
The figure staggered and fell into a seated position, leaning on a chunk of wall. No life remained in its arms or legs; it collapsed like a cyborg without power. Masaru pulled the blade out with a single clean stroke and gazed at the blood coating the green plate with an imperious sneer. He lifted it for the beheading strike, but paused as a copious blast of fog erupted from the back of the armor, stalled by curiosity. The chest split open along the pectoral ridge as a hinged hatch plate made itself visible.
Strained gurgling breaths came from inside the chest; the timbre of it made his eyes open in horror. Masaru dropped to one knee and grabbed the ridge of the plate with his left hand; not wanting to believe what his mind told him he heard. His katana hung loose in the fingers of his other hand as he swayed from pain and dread. Eldon moved up after reclaiming his rifle.
“Clear the target.” Eldon aimed at the man’s chest.
Masaru stayed motionless.
Eldon leaned to fire around him. “Dammit Masaru, clear the target.”
Masaru shook his head to the negative. Kenny emerged from cover and walked over with his rifle trained as well, followed by Joey, who held his pistol down and to the side as he ran.
“What the fuck is going on?” Eldon looked at Masaru.
Masaru grunted and shoved upward. The chest panel rose with a loud hiss and more fog, like the entry hatch for a powerarmor battle suit, on hinges in the figure’s shoulders. Within the padded chest cavity, the face of a white-haired little girl stared back at them.
She could not have been older than nine.
Blood foamed through her teeth and ran down her chin as she struggled to breathe, soaking a grimy tank top clinging about her chest. Her arms folded in front of her as if she was entombed. A filthy cloth cap sat askew on her head, secured with a chinstrap and studded with wires and electrodes. Her unkempt hair had the appearance of growing unrestrained for several years. Despite her age, she stared at Masaru with hate and malice.
“I… Just killed a kid.” Masaru fell away from the armor and landed in a slouch.
“Oh man.” Eldon sagged. “Oh man… what the fuck are they doing out here.”
The girl’s eyelids drooped as her breathing became shallower. The blood that bubbled through her teeth ran out of her mouth as the strength keeping her jaw clenched left her. Her head rolled around once and sagged forward. Eldon cursed under his breath as he searched for the release catch.
“Stim!” Eldon yelled.
An abdominal hatch opened forward, extending down and out from the main unit. Her body, head, and arms fit within the chest and her legs ran down into the suit’s thighs.
“This ain’t no doll… It’s a damn power armor.”
At last holding the stimpak in the right direction, Eldon pushed it into her chest. The child’s closed eyes did not react.
Blood seeped from a katana-sized slit in her chest.
“Don’t waste the stimpak.” Masaru’s voice hung with regret. “It is astounding she lasted long enough to glare.”
Eldon slid his hands around her sides, threaded his fingers under her armpits and lifted the limp body up and out of the armor with as much tenderness as he could. She looked half-starved and stank from urine and waste smeared all the way down her legs. Her dingy shorts were far from the white they had been when new. He laid her upon the grass and sighed.
Katya gasped in horror; the sight of the girl had her crying before she could put up her defenses. This was what she had tried to flee by coming to the UCF. To see this kind of depravity here as well kicked the foundation out from under her faith in humanity.
Masaru had not moved from where he fell. Power armor or not, he found no honor in killing a child. He could not even bring himself to look in her direction. Eldon tugged at the girl’s shirt, trying to straighten it on her little body.
Joey put his hand on Kenny’s shoulder, knowing the effect this sight would have on his friend.
Kenny stared in silence, lost in a waking nightmare of losing Alyssa.
morphous white shapes undulated across smooth burgundy marble tiles, sliding over seams and through the letters carved upon them. Nina’s fingertips traced the cold surface as she walked, feeling the gaps pass. At two hundred and two, she stopped. The shifting glow settled over the words ‘Vincent Montoya’ etched in a pla
in but elegant font.
The letters blurred as she focused on her own image in the dark stone, his name floating as if stenciled across her chest. His square, one among thousands, looked identical except for the words upon it and the memories behind it. With the sound of her footsteps silent, the cavernous atrium echoed with distant murmuring voices, other people and other broken lives.
She felt a sense of appropriateness being here. The face in the gloss may as well have been her ghost, asking her why she did not stay.
Since her transformation, she regarded clothing as a device of pure utility. This artificial body was itself something worn, an extravagant garment for a soul to go out on the town with. When not in the privacy of her apartment, all she needed were armor, boots, and a coat. Her ghost seemed more like what remained in the outer reaches of her ever-distancing memory of the time before. For Vincent, she wore an elegant black dress that made her face seem even paler, caught between it and her hair.
The material split in two paths of fabric that connected behind her neck to bare her shoulders and most of her back and the hem ended just below the middle of her thighs. She had not worn this since her grandfather’s funeral, when she was four inches shorter and the dress stopped just above her knee. Nina had not thought much of it until she noticed the stares.
At least the shoes fit.
The black heels clung by means of an articulated strap that spiraled around her ankle to halfway up her shin. The coil, Myofiber strands covered in artificial leather, moved like a serpent; its tightness monitored by electronics in the shoe. They were a relic from a time when she thought nothing of dropping twenty thousand credits on a pair of shoes she would wear once. A typical high school attitude, before she decided she wanted to do something meaningful with her life. How she bristled at her father’s insistence she marry and give him a grandson; now she would give almost anything for the ability to do just that.
Her plain indigo handbag deformed with the presence of her service weapon. She held it in front of her, more to do something with her hands than for any sense of security it provided. Nina stared at the tile, wondering if the activity on her VidPhone was Vincent trying to contact her from the other side. The network team found evidence of an inbound signal, but it did not look like a real call and they could not find the origin.
DeWinter theorized that it had to have been done by some kind of techno-savant based on intense route masking. Half of her brain wondered if that was their ego defense at not being able to explain it; then again, a ghostly entity would not bother to bounce a signal from a dozen countries.
“I had a feeling I’d find you here.”
A beige mass shifted toward her in the tiles. She could make out a tan sweater and dark ‘old man’ pants. Hardin looked more like a high school history teacher than a spymaster from Division 9, perhaps a deliberate engineering of appearance to mislead. Nina stared at the word Vincent as he walked up to her, hoping he did not make a comment about the slutty dress. She forgot all of her civilian clothing had a dead woman’s size.
“I’m okay. It was just a prank call.”
Hardin looked at her back and wondered how the dress stayed in place. “Microhook?”
Nina brushed her hair off her neck, revealing the loop of fabric.
“Ahh. It’s always that one little thing you don’t see.” He winked.
She flicked her eyes toward him. “Yeah.”
“So what happened last night?” He touched a small button by Vincent’s gravestone, creating a holographic candle.
“I was just doing a favor for someone.”
“Mm hmm.” Hardin nodded. “So… Division 9 sends fourteen million credits worth of cutting edge military hardware to stomp a street thug into peanut butter.” He shook his head with a forced grin. “Sounds like an exemplary use of tax funds to me.”
Nina stared at nothing in particular. “I was on downtime, I still get downtime, don’t I?”
“You know Lou is asking if there was some connection between Z Bone and something international.” Hardin added, folding his hands behind his back.
“Chandrasekhar’s just looking to get us to do his work for him. The bureau chiefs of Division 1 always are.”
Hardin’s dry chuckle echoed here. “Yeah, that sounds about right. Before I express any level of discontent at suffering through a two hour meeting with him; would you do me the favor of filling me in on why?”
Nina did not want to explain her real reason for going to New Hope. Of course, this was old hat to Hardin; he could spot a liar as easily as if you had a sign over your head with “bullshit” written on it that blinked each time you fibbed. He did not even have a somatic response system. Her doll body was so perfect at mimicking human actions, the same tics that foil liars would still affect her.
“I was checking out this place on the net, New Hope, the one that those two dead hackers were affiliated with.”
Hardin lifted one of his bushy brown eyebrows at her. “You think there’s something going on there with your current project?”
“I know there’s a hacker involved. Those induced suicides… Blank and Yan, might have been practice.” Nina thought of Joey from the Imperial hotel security footage. “Someone good is covering for Korin and Nemsky and might be trying to get rid of witnesses or associates.”
Hardin held his chin betwixt his thumb and forefinger. “You are certain that one of them is not doing the hacking?”
“It would have to be Itai, but I don’t see how he’s this good in cyberspace. Nemsky’s not the type to be that delicate. His idea of hacking a computer system would involve an axe.” A faint thread of anger tainted her voice.
Harold folded his arms. “I spoke with my friend Ehud at the embassy. Mossad is sticking by their story; they say they never had an Itai Korin on their books.”
“Maybe that’s a truthful deception,” Nina suggested. “He might not have been on the books.”
Hardin wiped his hand over his mouth. “I’m not convinced. I’ve known Ehud for a long time and he would tell me… unless Israel is actively involved with this operation. Even then, he’d have dropped me a hint without saying anything. We’ve got nothing that indicates that is even a remote possibility. I believe him.”
“So that means Itai Korin is not Itai Korin. The whole Mossad angle could be a diversion. So who the hell is he if he’s not Israeli? Anything from the other side?”
“Not a damn thing. You mention Nemsky over there and people just walk away from you.” Hardin chuckled. “So how does Z Bone tie into all this?”
Nina sighed. “At New Hope, I met the father of two boys he killed. I couldn’t help but feel for the guy. He just wanted to understand why they were dead and the police were no help.”
Hardin shook his head. “That’s hardly your responsibility. Let Division 1 deal with that.”
“They did. They told him that his sons were gangbangers that got what they deserved.” She turned to face him. “I also found out an officer Collins had been working with the gangs.”
“That explains that report; well I suppose I can call this an IA operation even if it was an accident.”
“The boys were clean.” Nina went into an explanation.
“Okay. Forget about it. Look, we have some new information. Cole’s team spotted Itai infiltrating the diplomatic tower; we believe in an effort to make contact with Warner.”
“I should get over there.” Nina turned.
Hardin raised a hand. “There’s more. Net ops got a hit on Nemsky. Seems like he’s got an apartment under the alias Viktor Zabrun.”
“Another electronic trace.” Nina sighed. “Is there a team in place yet?”
Harold smiled at her. “You’re running the operation, Nina. I didn’t want to spook him out just yet.”
“I’m going.” The click of her heels filled the hallway, drawing several glances.
He followed to the elevator at the end of the atrium, still with his hands folded behind his back. The s
ilver doors closed, replacing the hallway with a perfect reflection of the city behind the glass capsule. Something about the sight of a massive atrium full of tombs made her want to cry. A fourteen-inch square of false marble among many thousands was all that remained of the man with whom she had wanted to spend the rest of her life.
The elevator slid down the side of the building; the soft whump of the car passing over the gaps between each floor created the only break in the silence. Nina watched the floor counter tick down from 61 as Hardin studied his NetMini. An unimpressed look settled over his face as he put it back in his pocket. Nina noticed he had not ogled her once, and wondered if he was being professional or thought of her as an ‘it’ rather than a ‘she.’
“They have a shot of Itai leaving the Tower. We couldn’t get eyes into Warner’s residence.”
“Guess I’m going to Nemsky’s.” Nina glanced at the city rising up around her. She closed her eyes and wished that Vincent waited downstairs to make fun of her for dressing up like a cop.
Harold walked her to the car. She went around and popped the trunk. Hardin’s intent to continue walking stalled when she reached up and unclasped her gown.
Hardin blinked. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Changing,” she said, matter-of-factly, and let go of the dress. “I’m not going after Nemsky in this thing.”
“You can’t do that out here.” Hardin had mastered the art of making whispers sound like yells. “This is a public place.”
“So?”
“There are people here that can see you.”
“Isn’t that what public means?”
“Nina, you may not think of this as your body anymore but…” He hesitated as the reality of her exposed chest hit him. Averting his eyes, he continued. “Modesty notwithstanding, you shouldn’t create unwanted attention. The fewer people that notice you, the better. Remember that whole thing about not standing out and vanishing into the mask of memory?”
Virtual Immortality Page 35
