“That got his stink all over it. He’s a corporate security man, not even a soldier – brute force tactics are his way.” Shaper took his seat, but his anger continued unabated. “And as for the drone, that pet frog of yours could have easily provided him with one.”
Sumire, who up until then had sat quiet as a mill pond at Shaper’s side perked up. “I agree that the attack did not demonstrate subtlety. But Miss January is right. We do not know that the New Human Army is responsible for the attack, and if they are, we do not know that it is necessarily an act sanctioned by Mr. Scalli. It could be an elaborate ruse by the Yathi.” Despite her soft voice, her hate gave the word a rasp’s edge. “We cannot risk dooming the entire movement thanks to a needless act of reprisal.
“Exactly.” Bobbi nodded to Sumire. Just because Cagliostro hasn’t picked up any activity doesn’t mean anything. There have been gaps before, and he’s been wrong about some pretty major things in the past.” She thought of Redeye and the colonial matrix, of the great clone-tree beneath the New City office park. “We need to try and reach out to them first.”
Shaper shook his head. “Fair enough, but I don’t recommend we assume they’re innocent, either. If it wasn’t Scalli’s crew directly, they could have contracted someone else, or leaked your identity…”
Violet sat perched like a second shadow at Bobbi’s right side, arms crossed over her chest. “I want to eat his heart too, Shaper, but there are too many questions floating around. Scalli doesn’t know about this place, so at least we’ll be safe for now. We can’t just assume that he’s gone Satanic and is working with the Beast.”
“Right.” Shaper nodded. “So we wait here until we hear from Cagliostro, one way or another.”
Bobbi’s hands had been resting palms-down atop the table; she made a brief drumming patter. “I want to go to Tenleytown. See what Lionel’s been up to.”
“What, do you have to do it now?” Shaper looked at Bobbi, a hint of incredulity in his expression. “What if they’re on the streets looking for you? Scalli’s got a lot more people than we do.”
Violet made a dismissive sound. Bobbi shot her a look before answering him. “It’s possible, but I think we’ll be all right.”
“But you’re being hunted,” Shaper insisted. “What if the next time it’s the Yathi showing up at your door? The Tenleys don’t have a chance!”
Sumire gave a little cough. “You forget, Mr. Shaper, that the Yathi must maintain a public face. How would they arrive? As a unit of Genefex corporate guard? Police? The citizens of Tenleytown see themselves as a nation unto themselves, and they are quite well armed these days. Anyone who shows up interested in combat will find themselves facing heavy resistance.”
He sputtered. “But—”
Bobbi lifted her hands.” Enough. I’m going. I want to see what Lionel’s been up to all this time. Last I saw him, I’d given him the corpse of one of the Dolls, who turned out to be failed experiments used just to bring Tom to the Bitch. He said that the bio-implants inside the Doll were made to corrupt too quickly for anything to be gained from them. What if he wasn’t telling the truth?”
“But I still—”
“And what if he found something that made him go underground in a hurry? Pierre said that Lionel vanished about a year after Tom did– a year before I knew anything about the true nature of what I was dealing with. It’s entirely possible that he’s gone the same way as the rest of us, found something out that has exposed him to the truth. If that’s so, we need him here. He’s fucking brilliant. We don’t want Scalli or the Yathi to get a hold of him, not right now.”
“Especially not right now.” Violet frowned from her place at Bobbi’s side. “And if he’s polluted, we’ll have to put him down. Shaper, I know what you’re feeling, and I don’t want her to go either. But if my lady says we go, we go.” She matched the look that Bobbi gave her. “But she goes with an escort, yes?”
Bobbi almost argued. If Lionel had some insight into the truth, and she showed up with a pack of Yathi bodies, who knows what he would do? On the other hand, she knew that going in alone, even to Tenleytown, would be ridiculous. No. If she wanted to do it now, she couldn’t go on her own. “All right. But nobody obviously tanked up. The three of you, nobody else.”
Shaper finally seemed mollified and sat. “All right. If that’s how you want it. Thank you for at least taking us with you, my lady.”
Bobbi lifted her brows at his unusual deference. “You’re welcome.” Sometimes it was important that Shaper remembered who was in charge. “I value the input, from all of you. Besides, I haven’t been to Tenleytown in two years.” She smiled. “It could be fun.”
The moment she said those words, she regretted it.
alken sat in the bay of the plane for some time while it ascended and made its escape. Though the bay had no windows, the holoscreen at a crew station gave him a good view through external cameras. They Zone blurred away in seconds. The plane was fast, faster than he had expected it to be from the outside. He figured it for some kind of stealthed dropship, though did not recognize its make; sleek and beautiful on the outside, with its matte black curves and its nimble jets, but on the inside, much more industrial in appearance. Bare metal walls and floor, unpainted and battered, hosted a number of padded jump seats, consoles, and empty weapons racks. Doors leading to fore and aft sealed magnetically, and made of a material he did not recognize or know if he could penetrate. He gazed at his hands, uncertain how he generated the searing light in the first place, much less if he could do it at will. Now free of Yathi control, or so it seemed, he found he had much more in the way of questions than he ever had before.
He looked down at himself. Still in his stolen, filthy shorts, his body gleamed white and hard in the dim light. His limbs had returned to their human appearance, though the fingers remained too long, like spiders. He thought of the superhot glow that had sheathed them and wondered what Mother had created this body to do. What was it? It must have been some kind of energy envelope. Energy weapons were extremely rare outside of the military, but every now and then, the televised feeds showed them in action, ghostly sun-hot fire half landing, half splashing down on targets and vaporizing flesh and metal with equal impunity. Well, it would not be surprising to find that Yathi versions of the same technology were much more advanced. Unlike some of his other systems, he had no instinctual knowledge of it. A block, perhaps? Software? Brain damage? He would have to try and find some way to figure that out, to unlock his potential, whatever that may be. He could not well protect himself without knowledge of what he could actually do.
And what of his purpose in general? He had always wondered why she had lured him in the first place, who he had riding in his head, why she would go to such lengths to preserve him. Walken had intended to die when she put the choice before him, after all – but then again, perhaps being driven to that point had been the last crisis needed to trigger the awakening of the being in his head. Too bad for him, and too bad for the Mother of Systems. Walken’s shot had apparently robbed them both of whatever life had been meant for his body to live out. So why preserve him? It seemed obvious she wanted to try and ‘fix’ his brain, at least to her own specifications.
Which meant the thing in his head still lived on in one way or another, perhaps. Still waiting to take him over.
Walken pushed the thought away as the plane settled into a steady course. The fore hatch snapped open on magnetic tracks. A man emerged from the doorway dressed in a ribbed, heavy jumpsuit, calf-high compression boots, and a web harness to which a flight helmet had been clipped. This too appeared a generation or so old, perhaps the pilot was as much salvage as the plane. The man watched him with wary interest as he stopped inside the bay, leaned against the wall of the compartment, and crossed his arms over his chest.
“If you want some clothes,” the man said in a wry, nasal voice, “there’s lockers just aft. I figure we have something that will fit you.”
Walken
stared at him. Hispanic, mid-thirties, close-cropped black hair with a band of diamonds shaved in from temple to temple. He had a fierce expression, hawkish nose, interface plugs that gleamed like silver lesions at his temples and the blunt form of wireless guidance antennae jutting out from behind his ears. The mark of a skilled pilot, possibly military. Walken said nothing as the man took a step backwards to the rear hatch, and neither did he, even as the hatch unsealed, and Walken stepped into the small room with the lockers. The jumpsuits inside them were military grade, made of gray bulletproof fabric. He put one on, not taking his eyes off the man. Who was this pilot? A mercenary? A veteran of the War on contract? No, he would have to be older than he appeared, though this too was hardly impossible. Walken secured his suit before returning to the bay, then tucked his hands behind his back and waited to be addressed.
For several moments, the man leaned there still. Perhaps he was expecting Walken to ask questions, but when it appeared that none were forthcoming, he spoke instead. “So are you doing okay? Not hurt?”
“I am undamaged.” The words sounded weird in his ears, more mechanical than anything else. “I mean, I am unharmed.”
The man snorted.” No need to sugar-coat things for me, man. I know the deal. Undamaged is the better term, right?”
Walken nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Who are you?”
“Name’s Jacinto,” said the pilot. “Samwell Jacinto. You can call me Sam if you want.” He nodded at the coveralls.” I’m glad that you found something that fit you. Shivering in the mud in your underwear certainly isn’t how I would want to spend an evening, though I guess you really don’t feel cold.”
“Not so much feel as register,” Walken said. “Can you tell me why I am here?”
Jacinto’s brows arched. “You escaped. We were waiting for you to try again. Took your sweet time about it, this time around. It’s been what, two years since your last attempt?”
Walken frowned at him. “It is no small thing to escape where I’ve been.”
“No it isn’t.” Jacinto nodded. “In fact, I don’t know of anyone else who could do that, except maybe for that Redeye woman who was around a few years ago. But she’s long dead now.”
Redeye. It was a name Walken knew, but only barely. The Mother of Systems had mentioned her once in passing. “I don’t know anything about her. How were you able to destroy the machines?”
Jacinto shook his head. “I didn’t really destroy them. The concussion missiles I used were only to put them off balance. Virus warheads, short-range broadcast keyed to their particular system. Very effective, but it wouldn’t have put them down for long.”
Walken stared at him. “Who do you represent, Jacinto? Why are you here? Why do you even know about me?” Though most emotions proved elusive, impatience came easy. “And where are we going?”
At this, Jacinto’s smirk became a frown of discomfort. “I think maybe I shouldn’t be the one to tell you that, man. I don’t have all the answers myself. I’m just the delivery man, you know?”
“Hardly an acceptable answer.” Walken crossed the deck to one row of jump seats, looking across the compartment in a show of examination. “This plane… The walls, how thick are they?”
Jacinto’s eyes narrowed a little. “Thick enough. There’s a lot to go over, though, so I’ll get to it if you don’t mind.”
Walken sat in the nearest jump seat and fixed Jacinto with an impassive expression.
“A lot of things have gone on since you disappeared.” Jacinto’s wariness had returned, though Walken could not blame him. “I mean, it’s been six years. You know that, right?”
“I am aware.” Walken nodded. “What has happened since then?”
“Well…“Jacinto frowned a little. “Okay, I’ll boil it down for you. Since you disappeared, a couple people started looking for you, and got a lot farther than you did in your own investigation. You’ve been stuck in a tube for the last six years, yeah? Well, other people have been taking the fight to those humps.”
It was easy for Walken to control his face, so his surprise did not register. “In what way?”
“They’ve been shooting those motherfuckers all over the place,” Jacinto said. “Assassinations, raids on their facilities, all kinds of things. Mostly material losses, but there have been some major deaths on their end. Or at least there were.”
Mother had said nothing of any resistance movement among the human population. But then again, why would she? It would only help to bolster his spirit, just as it did now. But he could trust nothing, not yet. “Who started this whole thing?” He had images of his fellows at the bureau, perhaps Kelley or someone else came to realize the infection within the Bureau office. Maybe Exley was out on his ass when he was in Bern.
“I’m not cleared to tell you that,” Jacinto said. “Just trust me when I say you got some real motivated friends. They’ve been looking for you since you disappeared, man. And in the meantime, they started up a resistance.”
“And your part in all of this?” Walken kept his expression ambiguous, but inside he soared –as much as his machine-soul could. Looking for him all this time! A resistance movement fighting the colonization effort! And waiting to collect him the moment he escaped, knowing that he had tried to do so before. It still might be all a manipulation, a charade. But if it wasn’t…
Jacinto shrugged. “I used to fight in it. I know pretty well what you got away from. Been killing off those fuckers for years. Mostly drones and shit, cannon fodder, but from up here Aggie and I’ve done the occasional snipe on important targets. Holiday houses, the occasional car hit. That kind of thing.”
“So you’re an expert,” Walken said. “Do you intend to kill me?”
He got only a snort for his trouble. “I’m not sure how you got your Seal turned off, but I figure if you can do that, you aren’t gonna go nuts and try and tear my arms off. So I don’t need to try and kill you myself, right?”
Walken’s brows arched. “Do you think that you could?”
“Well, you tell me, man,” said Jacinto with a bit of a grin. “You think you could get away, after seeing what I did to those centipede motherfuckers? Sure, you might get through me, but not before I overload this old girl’s power plant. You think you can survive a kiloton blast, cabron? Or a fall from fifty thousand feet if you jumped in time?”
A nuclear-powered plane. Walken did not expect that, certainly nothing with a reactor capable of generating that kind of explosion when overloaded. Must be a suicide device of some sort. “Fair enough.” He gave the other man the slightest of nods. “So what now?”
“What now is that you buckle yourself in and I’m gonna take you to see a man.” Jacinto lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “And then I’m gonna take you wherever else you need to go based on that discussion. Either we raise hell, or I take you somewhere to dump you.”
“Dump me?”
“You know. Like as in a corpse.”
With a grace borrowed from the finest engineering, Walken reached up and drew the jump seat’s securing bar down over his chest. “Do you think that’s likely?”
“I think that for someone who just escaped from a whole lot of nasty bastards, you’re riding pretty high on your own toughness – but you don’t know much about yourself, and the man I’m taking you to see will take you apart if you’re not what you’re supposed to be.”
“A fascinating man, no doubt.” Walken channeled every spy-movie hero, dry and flat in his delivery. “When will that be, then?”
“Four hours, thirty-seven minutes. And twenty-two seconds, if you’re really counting.” Jacinto looked him over again. “I’m going back to the cockpit. I take it that you don’t need anything to eat?”
That, at least, he knew. “No need. I will be fine. But thank you.”
Jacinto shrugged and disappeared into the cockpit. This man was a potential ally, even if Walken did not yet trust him. Why try and spook him? Annoyed with himself, Walken stared ahead at the
rack of seats across from him and counted the stitches in their microfiber cushions. After an hour or so, he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.
He fell into a tube dream not long after. Walken hung suspended in a glass cylinder, one among racks of many, each one filled with some kind of meat: sometimes human, sometimes synthetic, and sometimes, in very rare occasions, something else. He could never see what, save for glimpses of something terrible in the depths of cloudy, pearlescent fluid. Surrounded by floors and walls of black steel, lit by sickly green lamps that never seemed to give off enough light despite their numbers and their brightness, his body floated in its prison while he watched from on high.
On occasion, people would pass through this gestation floor. Mostly these were drones, naked and studded with blasphemous machines, but occasionally Yathi technicians would walk amongst the racks and check status with their own instruments. As he dreamed on, someone arrived at the tubes, and his heart quailed at the sight of her. The Mother of Systems came down the aisle, terrifying and beautiful, the Queen of the Uncanny Valley herself. Her pale face was as lovely as the moment he first saw it, and her retinas flashed green in the gloom beyond the tube banks like a cat’s. She eschewed cosmetics, which when combined with her very pale hair made her look like a mannequin left to soak in a vat of bleach. The Mother wore some kind of voluminous robe made of silver cloth, surrounded by a halo of holographic glyphs, which made her look like some kind of weird marble Bodhisattva.
He knew what was going to happen in this dream, and it terrified him. Tube dreams weren’t just dreams, they were memories.
“Good evening.” Mother stopped at the base of his tube and looked up at him, smiling like the saint she appeared to be.” You escaped, I see.”
“I don’t want to be here.” The voice came from everywhere, his voice– nerve impulses transmitted from his brain, picked up by sensors somewhere and piped in from unseen speakers.” You know that.”
She sighed. Somewhere inside of him, in a place he hated and did not understand, guilt began to flow. “It makes me sad that you say that. What have we done to you that you should hate us so much? Do you not understand that I’m only doing what’s best for you?”
Gathering Ashes (The Wonderland Cycle Book 3) Page 11
