Exodus

by Farrell, Lisa

  “I’m so tired,” she said. “Could we rest somewhere? Stop somewhere I could get cleaned up, maybe?”

  “We’ll press on to the border,” he said. “Cops won’t follow us where we’re going.”

  “And then what?” she asked.

  “I hand you over to a contact.” Maybe his “contact” would be easier to reason with.

  “Are we near the border yet?”

  “It’s not too far,” he said.

  She would have one last try with Express. The farther Miranda got from NA, the harder it was to believe she’d make it back again.

  “We’re going to have to make a stop,” he said.

  She sat forward, eyes wide, startled. Maybe she had been falling asleep at last. At least she’d been quiet for a while.

  “A motel?” she asked.

  “Somewhere you can rest, long enough for us to change vehicles anyway.” He couldn’t take the truck all the way to the rendezvous: it was too big, and slow besides. He’d just have to keep a close eye on her. If she was smart, she’d stay close to him in a place like that anyway.

  It was an old roadside place that had been busy and thriving a few generations ago. Now, the owner couldn’t afford to keep the holos running, and had painted the name across the door in neon yellow: Last Stop Motel. Even that was fading now.

  “What is this place?” Miranda asked as they pulled off the road and parked in front of the entrance.

  “Somewhere they don’t ask questions,” Express answered.

  The large curved building stood in the center of a cracked concrete expanse where carbosteel girders had once supported the bulk of an automated parking-garage tower with a hopper pad at the top. The tower had been ripped away and sold for scrap once the traffic had all but disappeared. Hoppers didn’t need to come this way—the only traffic now was criminal, or truckers carrying loads so worthless the traders wouldn’t pay to get the stuff off the ground.

  Groundcars and bikes lay strewn across the concrete like debris after an explosion. Some looked like they’d been there a while, weeds growing up around their wheels. A truck similar to theirs sat abandoned just off the road, its cargo doors yawning open. Someone had stripped the cab of electronics and useful materials. It wasn’t going to be moving again any time soon.

  Express made no effort to conceal her bonds before he pushed her through the creaky door into the bar, but he did pull her hair forward to hide much of her face. The seccams were no problem—he could manipulate a closed circuit easily—but he didn’t want any patrons to recognize Miranda Rhapsody.

  A warning flashed on his lenses, indicating the premises had overcharged him for entry, but he let it slide. He’d been through this place before but wasn’t counting on any favors. It was dark inside, the only light coming from the empty shelves behind the bar.

  At cursory glance, the human server looked like an Eve bioroid, blond and busty, but overdue for some cosmetic resurfacing.

  “I want a room,” Express said, sliding a credstick over the bar. The sever glanced at Randi and sneered.

  “Any special requests?”

  “No,” Express said.

  She waved her hand over the stick, some implant taking payment, and pushed it back.

  “Room four is unlocked, this level. Any damages are coming off that stick.”

  She turned, leaning on the bar as she pointed them on their way. They had to pass the only drinkers she had in the place, two wrinkled, greying men who looked like they were still getting over the shock of the main skylane’s having stolen their business.

  One looked up as Express hurried Randi past, and he caught the Tenma’s arm.

  “Hey, this looks mixed up,” he said. “Are you a clone?”

  “Not me,” Express said, glad his collar hid the code. “Just naturally good looking.” Posing as a human was illegal, but he’d practiced the line enough times to be convincing.

  Express pulled his arm away and the man let him go with a snort. He looked too drunk to fight anyway. The encounter seemed to make Randi jumpy, though, and she pressed herself against Express as they walked past the VR booths, as though one of the skinny guys in there might somehow be aware of them despite the headsets. They were chunky, old-fashioned headsets, the sort that most establishments had replaced with sensedep tanks long ago. They made the wasted bodies beneath appear even more shrunken and pathetic. Black-gloved hands waved feebly in the air.

  Randi took a deep breath once the door slid back into place behind them. The corridor was empty.

  “I used to like being recognized,” she murmured. “Now it just scares me.”

  “Even if they recognized you,” Express said, “they don’t know what you are. They wouldn’t hurt you.” The clone line that took their jobs, though… Express was another story.

  He wasn’t sure why he reassured her, especially since he didn’t know if it was true. He had no idea what those humans would do if they thought they had a celeb in their midst. Probably ask questions he couldn’t answer. He didn’t want to find out.

  The corridor was long and dark, and smelled faintly of smoke. Concrete was visible in a strip along the floor where the black tiles had worn through.

  Express let Randi into the room and put himself between her and the door as he set the lock.

  “Can I have these off now?” Randi asked, holding up her hands. “I promise to be good.”

  “Sit on the bed,” Express instructed, and she perched carefully on the edge. He unwound the tubing, which left red grooves in her skin as it came away. She tossed her hair back from her face and sat rubbing her wrists.

  “This is the only way,” he tried reasoning with her again. “You have to go to ChiLo. It’s the only way you can have a life, now.”

  She said nothing. Express wasn’t sure what her silence meant. It worried him more than her constant questioning. He made a quick circuit of the room, peered into the bathroom, and judged the place secure enough.

  “We’re practically off-grid here,” Express reassured her. “I can’t even access the Net from inside the room. You’ll be safe.”

  Still Randi said nothing. She seemed focused on pulling off her boots, her face lowered.

  “I’m going to dispose of the truck,” he said. “So get some rest. We won’t be staying long.”

  He left her lying on the bed as she stared at the mirrored ceiling.

  She didn’t know the person staring back at her. Her face was dirty with grease, her hair a tangled mess. A streak of dried blood ran down one cheek. Her eyes were large and white and staring. The jumpsuit she wore was ripped, a flap hanging open at one thigh, clean only in a few small patches where the material remained undamaged.

  She sat up and tugged at her clothes, pulling them apart where they were already torn, throwing strips of blue material to the floor. The pads from the joints she threw at the far wall, where they made a dull thump as they hit. Soon she was naked on the bed and could see her skin, pale and bruised. She looked up at the ceiling and screamed at herself, a fierce scream, a roar, which echoed in the enclosed space. Her heart was thumping in her ears when the sound died. Out of breath, she climbed from the bed and staggered across the room to clean herself up in a space so small it felt like a cupboard. The door slid closed with a hiss, and she was in a white box, light assaulting her from all sides.

  Washed and dried, she returned to the bed and lay looking up at the mirror again. Another stranger, but one she could live with. Her face was not the same; Express had lied about that. She had never had such haunted eyes, even when she played the jack-head in that arty sensie, Virtual Light.

  She had to come up with a role she could play to get out of this. Express had shown no pity, so the on-the-run look was out. Time to work with what she had.

  By the time Express had arranged for someone to deliver his truck of bioroid parts back to NA for an extortionate fee, Randi could have caused several brands of trouble, he knew. He still had to arrange for their next ride, but d
ecided to check on her first, just in case. She might be asleep, or she might be causing damage he’d have to pay for, or she could have fastened a noose using the tubing he’d left in the room. For herself, or for him—he wasn’t sure which was more likely.

  He slipped quietly into the room, but she was awake.

  “I’m going to need some new clothes,” she whined, propping herself up in the bed. The sheet slid down a little. Express glanced down to the tattered garment on the floor.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem,” he said. He turned to go.

  “W-wait,” she stammered.

  He stopped.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “You can ask,” he said, his hand on the door.

  “Well, clones can’t reproduce, right? So, how does that work? I mean, maybe I’m different?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t have time for this.

  “I suspect you’re sterile, same as the rest of us,” he said.

  He heard her rise behind him, the soft whisper of the sheet sliding down.

  “And do the rest of you feel human desire the way I do?” she teased, taking a step. She slipped her arms around him from behind, her body pressed against his.

  He caught her wrists. “I’m not taking you back to NA, no matter what you do,” he warned, opening the door. He expected her to retreat under the covers to save her modesty, but she moved into his way, blocking the hallway. He told himself he needed the creds, needed to finish the job.

  “Well, I guess that answers my question,” she snipped, fists on her hips. “Either you’re getting enough that you can afford to turn down Miranda Rhapsody, voted NA’s Hottest Woman of the Year three years running, or you’re a damned eunuch. I’d bet my credits on the latter.” Her face was flushed with fury, her eyes bright.

  “I should be with Larry right now,” she went on. “Or learning some moves from a zero-G sports star with all the latest muscle mods. Instead, I’m stuck in some throwback motel room, prisoner of a delivery clone with delusions of grandeur!”

  He kept his face still.

  “You’re just like the rest of the Tenmas, still delivering packages! You can’t think beyond the job. You just want to get me to the border and earn your credits, because of your programming.

  “Well, start thinking beyond the job,” she said, staring into his eyes and leaning her arm against the wall. “If you help me get my life back, I’ll pay you double what you’re being paid to take me to the border.” She smiled, her lips pink and glossy. “Whoever hired you, they didn’t know me. They didn’t know how this would kill me. If you really want to save me, you’ll help me.”

  He put his hands on her bare shoulders and pushed her gently back onto the bed.

  “Get some sleep, Randi,” he said and walked out of the room, locking the door behind him.

  Chapter 6

  Express checked the news feeds as he walked and played the shoutcasts so low they were whispers in his ear. He had to keep the information coming to keep from thinking about Randi standing there in nothing but the body Jinteki made for her, demanding his help.

  At least the clip of Randi outside the recycling station was old news now, replaced by a new rumor: Miranda Rhapsody was selling her DNA to Jinteki. The megacorp and the celeb both denied it, of course. She had been up to enough mischief on Luna to create her own news while she was “training hard to acquire a sportswoman’s physique.” A new, tougher Miranda Rhapsody for her new sensie. He wondered how else she differed from the previous version.

  Express walked quickly across the lot illuminated by flickering streetlamps to the line of trees that marked the beginning of the ecopreserve. Past the trees, in the darkness, there were no seccams to watch him. Dawn would come in a few hours; they should be moving on. He stood in the shadow of a tree, leaning against the trunk as he fished a cig from his bag and took a long drag. It lit on cue.

  Using his PAD he pulled up the specs of the vehicles outside the motel, mods included, and spun the holos around, looking for one fit to drive. He would have preferred one of the bikes, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to share it with Randi. The thought of her clinging to him again…

  She was trying to shift the power, trying to take control. He couldn’t let that happen. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but there was a part of him that wanted her to win. Jinteki had designed him to serve another, not to be the one in charge. He had to fight it. He collapsed the holos with a downward gesture and concentrated on his vapor.

  Even from this remote place, he could see large ads glowing in the sky like warped clouds, boasting of the facilities of the nearest town. They offered nightclubs, VR booths, skin grafts, and mods. Anyone could look like a celeb for enough credits. No wonder Jinteki had to create Miranda. NBN needed someone special to stand out, someone beyond perfect.

  He had to stop thinking about her. She was just a job. He was good at focusing on the job; it was part of his design. He flicked away the butt of his cig. He’d buy clothes from the woman behind the bar, and no doubt she’d bleed him dry for them. He was going to make a name for himself here, throwing his creds around like that.

  A black hopper drove in off the road, almost invisible in the night. It was unmarked but so out of place, he half expected the other motel guests to flee the scene as it arrived. NAPD hoppers doubled as groundcars; everyone knew that.

  He watched via the motel seccam feed as a plainclothes woman and man stepped out of the vehicle. They looked around, not like tourists taking in the view, but like cops in unfamiliar territory. The man headed for the empty truck, and the female cop approached the motel. As the seccam caught the profile of her face and her long black hair, he recognized her as the detective from outside his condo-hab. He had to get Randi out.

  The woman wouldn’t find the right room immediately, so Express focused his attention on the man who was using his PAD as a flashlight, checking the interior of the trailer. The cop glanced behind himself and climbed inside.

  Express hurried closer, keeping the truck between himself and the other cop, who was still in view, her back turned as she reached the motel entrance. He would follow her in, passing her as she questioned the owner to get to Randi first. He moved silently, keeping his distance.

  The cop stopped at the doors and turned around. There was no way she could have heard him, but there was no surprise on her face.

  “Ken Tenma,” she called out, and at her voice her partner appeared, gun drawn. Express bolted and headed for the trees, hoping to lead them both away.

  “NAPD, freeze!” the man called after him.

  Express darted between vehicles, missing the city. There was too much open space here and too few places to hide in. He led the man into the trees; he would double back for Randi later after losing the cop or incapacitating him. Express was faster and lighter; the cop’s feet thudded against the cracked concrete. The cop must have known he’d never catch up, and he fired. The weapon was quiet, its projectiles hissing through the air, forcing Express to weave to avoid them, making him lose ground to his pursuer.

  He had nearly reached the trees, but a shot caught his good shoulder as he dove for cover. It only scraped his flesh, but the impact knocked him to the side and his head connected with a tree trunk. He shook his head, dazed, and stumbled back up. His lenses shifted to afford him night vision, and he hoped the cop had no such mod. The ground felt rough and uneven beneath his feet, slowing his pace, and the second set of footfalls grew louder still.

  Express barked at his PAD with a voice command, putting his hands over his ears. “Sonic, short range!”

  Somewhere behind him, the cop’s PAD let out a shrill screech at ear-bleeding decibels. Express released his ears and ran on in an arc to disappear into the darkness. The road was ahead, and he would double back. The screech ceased, but the echo was odd, as though the sound had come from two directions. It could be the female officer running after him as well.

  He stopped to listen. Nothing.
If the cop hadn’t disconnected his earpiece in time, he would be unconscious. Express crept slowly forward, heading back to the motel again.

  “Stop or I’ll shoot.”

  Express tensed, ready to run, but the deep voice had come from close behind him, and his back was an easy target. The cop knew he was a clone, and there was nothing to stop him from killing Express.

  “Put your hands where I can see them, and turn around.”

  Express obeyed, turning slowly. He came face to face with the cop, the man’s stubbled face red from exertion, blood drying below his ears. At least he hadn’t been easy prey.

  “Out of your jurisdiction, isn’t it?” Express asked.

  “I’m confiscating you,” the cop said; arrests were for people. “I want to question you for a murder investigation, so I want you alive, but any more trouble and I’ll make you hurt. Bad. So for starters, give me that PAD.”

  Express handed it over and stood motionless with his hands back over his head while the officer patted him down with his free hand. A murder investigation—so they weren’t here for Randi. He should have known that Jinteki wouldn’t send mere cops after her.

  “Who’s been murdered?” It had to be Li11ith.

  “Just walk. Slowly.” The cop motioned with his gun, and they stepped back onto the concrete and into the light.

  Li11ith had always been careful, but there must have been something connecting them or someone who’d seen them together. The only thing he knew for sure was that nothing about the current job was on the Net, because he’d taken care of that himself.

  “I got him,” the cop said, transmitting to his partner. Even with his superior hearing, the reply was too quiet for Express to understand. The back gull-wing door of the NAPD hopper rose as they approached, and the cop pushed him in.

  “Sit tight, clone,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”