Pico's Crush

by Carol Van Natta

  Luka objected, citing a leg injury she’d apparently gotten in a fight with a ramper. They took their discussion offline. Jerzi had never seen them fight, or even raise their voices to one another, but they did disagree from time to time.

  Andra broke the silence. “The Grien siblings are here in the lab and want to help with the barge issue. They said they’d meet you at the third-floor north stairs.” She sounded unhappy about their choice.

  “We could let the barge go,” he said.

  “I don’t care about the barge itself, but we need to keep the crew busy. The launch team and I have come up with a way to get the people out of the big lecture hall.”

  “Dad, just so you know, we’ve got seven children who are coming with us.”

  “We can fit them in my flitter. If Mairwen gives me the code, I can get theirs out of the stacker.”

  “Sending it to you now,” said Sojaire. “I’ll keep the conference open as long as we need it. Mairwen specified high encryption, so it should be secure.”

  Jerzi muted his earwire, then ran across the airpad to the cover of the freighter. Now that comms were working, the mercs would soon be sending someone to check on the null response from the freighter. Easing around it, and keeping an eye on the sky, he sprinted to the stacker kiosk and beamed it the code Sojaire sent. He winced at the stacker’s noisy machinery, but it couldn’t be helped. He ran to the stairway door, opened it, and darted inside, remembering at the last second to leap over the body of the merc who’d had the plasma rifle. He stopped a moment to listen, then descended the stairs to the second floor quietly, glad they were slip-resistant and his all-terrain boots had cushioned soles.

  He watched for the Griens, and irised open the door as soon as he saw them.

  “Our gills are real, and our skin is enhanced,” said Melly Grien quietly. “We can stay underwater as long as we want.”

  Her brother Trenton nodded. “We checked from the windows in Vestering’s office. We can take off from the public transport dock and swim out and around to the back of the barge, and attach the package so it’s ready to blow.”

  “The theft crew will kill you if they catch you,” Jerzi said bluntly. “They’re under pressure. They won’t take time to ask questions.”

  “Our skin is the same color as the water,” said Melly. “We’re hard to see from above.”

  “We’ll be careful,” said Trent. “We’ve got friends in that lecture hall. Professor De Luna thinks they’ll become hostages if we don’t get them out. She needs the crew distracted for her plan to work.”

  Jerzi nodded. They were adults and knew the risks. “Okay,” he said. He pulled their homemade remote-controlled bomb from his gun bag and handed it over. Melly put it in a net bag while they briefly discussed where it should be placed for maximum chaos. He sent them off with a promise to watch for them at the public transport stop, and gave them a final order. “Your ghosts better come back and protect me, because Professor De Luna will definitely shoot me if you get killed.”

  In the meantime, he had an inspiration about what he could do with his leftover KemX. Be a shame to let it go to waste.

  * * * * *

  Taliferros Radomir was having one of those days he’d heard the ghosts complaining about, when nothing was going as it should. Dixon announced he’d talked the CPS into letting them stay a few more days in paradise, and clearly expected his staff to be pleased about it. Georgie, in one of his lucid cycles, had discovered news about the experiment on the college girl and reported it to Renner. So far, Renner hadn’t reported it to Dixon, which meant it was yet another thing Renner was holding over Taliferros’s head.

  Then the independent ramper that Taliferros had hired to take care of Foxe Investigations reneged on the contract and returned the retainer with the ten-percent penalty, no questions asked, and no questions answered, either. He had to assume that either Foxe or Morganthur got to her and warned her off, meaning they likely were one step closer to identifying him. He’d used the usual discreet hiring practice, but since he’d used CPS funds, they might be more traceable than if he’d used his own. The only good news was that, if he acted fast, he might be able to catch both Foxe and Morganthur. They were together on the same university floater he’d used for the “accident” job, and he knew it very well. He spun a tale to Dixon about going to a body shop for a biometric modification and left quickly.

  He rented a small flitter and entered the floater’s coordinates, but the traffic control system refused to route him, citing an “emergency vehicle” priority. He could drop off the TCS and land anyway, but it would report his flitter’s rogue behavior immediately and attract the unwanted attention of the enforcement division. As much as time was of the essence, staying out of custody was a higher priority. He changed his destination to a public airpad on the small island that was three miles to the east.

  When he got there, his luck temporarily improved when he came across an unattended airsled that had been left unlocked. The humid sea air would probably wrinkle his suit, but it was a small annoyance.

  The nature of the “emergency vehicle” priority became apparent as he approached the floater. He snorted in cynical amusement. Doubtless the traffic control system didn’t have a preprogrammed condition description for “war.”

  Taliferros was not risk averse, but conducting a hunt through a combat zone took risk to a whole new level. On the other hand, the circumstances had likely bottled up Foxe and Morganthur, and if he could find one or both, their deaths would be attributed to the war. The chance to get them off his back was too good to pass up.

  The Math building, where he’d staged the accident and conducted his experiment, was the best option for landing, since it only had one flitter on top. He could have landed on the dock, but there were too many people—crew, based on their attention-seeking clothing and hairstyles—to make that a viable option.

  He eased the airsled down as low as he dared as he approached the north wing of the Math building. At the last second, he pulled up and over the edge, touching down on the gravel-top roof. He controlled the bounce so it took him on top of the rooftop planters. He confirmed both with his eyes and his talent that no one was near. Even ghosts gave off an energy aura if he concentrated.

  On the south wing, he sensed two energy sources, neither with enough talent to stop him, and three ghosts. He slipped through the rooftop foliage to get a better view. The three ghosts, well armed, faced the central stairway and lifts. One of the active talents, a mid-level telepath of some sort, sat in the flitter’s pilot seat, using the comms. The other talent, another in the telepath class, stood near the rooftop door, rifle at the ready, but facing southwest, looking out to sea. Taliferros ordinarily didn’t like to waste energy sources, but he was on a schedule. He took aim with his Davydov plasbeamer and downed them in rapid succession. The high setting of the Davydov didn’t so much kill people as bisect them, and he practiced diligently with it to be both fast and accurate.

  His talent told him the mercs were concentrated on the third floor, more toward the center. As with most merc companies, they relied heavily on technology to make up for fewer numbers, but twenty at once was more than a lone man with a Davydov could take on. Fortunately, he probably wouldn’t have to, since Foxe and Morganthur had no reason to be with them. His talent said the lowest concentration of mercs was in the south wing’s stairs, so that was his best bet for getting in. As he crossed the rooftop, keeping his talent actively monitoring the ghosts in the stairway, he spent his spare attention on assuming the look and body language of a harmless, hapless teacher who had stumbled into an armed conflict.

  Maybe if he was lucky, he’d run into some energy sources to replenish his reserves along his way to the first floor, where he planned to start his search.

  Chapter 23

  * Planet: Nila Marbela * GDAT 3241.149 *

  Luka was hanging onto his patience by a rapidly thinning thread. Mairwen was out ghosting her way through the building, vul
nerable to both mercs and crew. Admittedly, they’d probably be more vulnerable to her, but it didn’t stop him from worrying. He wished he’d made her eat more than a banana, because she was probably using tracker mode, which burned through her energy reserves at a prodigious rate.

  Pico and Sojaire were keeping the children entertained with an improvised game that coincidentally caused them to move toys and furniture to create a wide, clear circle near the door. On the surface, Sojaire was his usual contained and genial self, but there was a certain brittleness about him whenever he looked at Pico.

  For her part, Pico looked just as subtly unhappy when she looked at Sojaire. It reminded him of how lost Jerzi had looked when he’d come home after an assignment to discover Pico alone and Dhorya gone. Luka didn’t know what he could do about whatever was going on between Pico and Sojaire, or if he should do anything, other than be a friend when needed.

  He glanced at his percomp, willing it to ping with either results of the public data queries he’d launched, updates from Majeed on the other two “entirely coincidental” cases involving merc raids on labs, or anything at all from the rest of the team.

  “Luka,” said the woman he loved as much as he loved air, “the crew are massing behind the Math building. They are about to assault the mercs on the third floor and airpad and steal their flitter.”

  Luka snorted. Even he knew it was a bad choice to fight armed mercs who had the high ground. “I guess there’s no minimum intelligence needed for joining a crew.”

  “Indeed,” said Mairwen. “You and the others should leave now. Go through the atrium. The Materials Science building’s airpad stairway is unguarded. Jerzi destroyed the lifts and is blocking doorways at each floor of the far east stairway.” Her tone said she approved of Jerzi’s initiative.

  “Where are you?”

  “Keeping the stairway unguarded.”

  Pico and Sojaire had heard and were already rearranging the child-carrying assignments. Luka would now carry Lyssi and Nico, Miguel would lead his sister Celia by the hand, and carry her if needed.

  “We should leave a note for the center’s staff,” said Sojaire.

  Pico looked startled, as if it hadn’t occurred to her. “No. Pieprzyć ich,” she bit out angrily. “Fuck them. They left the kids.” She frowned sourly and sighed. “But I’ll send a ping to the manager, because the parents will be frantic.”

  Pico keyed the wallcomp to send the message, then made it display a view of the hall outside the door to check that it was clear. When everyone was ready, she picked up Parekh, then palmed open the door. Luka picked up Nico and Lyssi, then stood in the threshold to prevent the iris from closing. Sojaire, with quiet Davalia and fretful Isiro, slipped past him and started rapidly down the hallway. Pico was next, carrying a mostly clothed Parekh, with Miguel and Celia holding hands right behind her. Luka gave them a little space, then stepped out with Nico and Lyssi, both of whom were blessedly quiet. He heard the door iris closed as he followed.

  They’d only gone a few steps when Miguel stumbled back, as if something had hit him. He scooped up his sister and turned back to Luka with a look of sheer panic on his face.

  “¡El hombre malo está allá en el atrio!”

  Whatever it meant, it caused Pico to drop Parekh to the floor and start running toward the atrium.

  “English,” ordered Luka.

  “The hunter! Out there!” Miguel pointed toward the atrium. “He’s hurting Sojaire!”

  Luka put Nico and Lyssi down and pushed them toward the center. “Take them back to the doorway and wait,” he ordered Miguel. It was safer than where he was going.

  He unmuted his earwire and subvocalized. “Trouble. Valenia’s attacker is in the atrium. He has Sojaire. Probably wants Mairwen or me.”

  “Coming.” Mairwen always sounded calm when she was at her deadliest.

  Throwing himself headlong into the situation wouldn’t help. He walked steadily while setting his earwire to pick up spoken words as well as subvocalized speech and unleashed his essence talent. It briefly caught on Pico, with her bright curiosity and deeply loyal nature, but he forced it forward, past familiar Sojaire, to the man… yes, a man, a shielder, exultant in his power and forgetting to shield himself. The tangle of images that made up the man was horrific, corrupted, stripped of humanity, tortured. Luka fought to pull his talent away. He’d remember those few images for the rest of his life; he didn’t need any more. Whether he’d been shaped long ago, or by the CPS, the man was warped beyond redemption.

  “…finished with your bosses, my beautiful young man with energy to burn, you and I will play.” The man’s voice was high and reedy, but the atrium’s acoustics made it seem like they were only a few meters away.

  Luka was listening so intently, he ran into Pico. He grabbed her shoulders to steady her. Beyond the leaning stacks of heavy wall units in the atrium, about twelve meters away, he saw the tops of two heads, a blond and a medium brown.

  “I know someone’s there,” called out the reedy-voiced man. “I can feel you. Mr. Foxe, I think. Your energy precedes you.” He chuckled. “Do come out, or I’ll kill your deliciously tasty assistant.”

  “You’ll kill him anyway,” said Luka. He felt a tickle in his mind, like a breeze blowing past.

  The man chuckled again. It sounded off, like something he’d practiced without understanding it. “Well, it was worth a try,” said the man. “My, but your talent is slippery. I know it’s there, but I… can’t quite…”

  Luka heard a child, probably Isiro, start to cry.

  “Your Davydov is frightening him,” said Sojaire loudly.

  “Aren’t you the clever boy,” said the man, just as loudly. “I know Morganthur is around here somewhere. Is she a minder, too? It would certainly explain how you’ve managed to track me.”

  “You have no idea,” Luka said. It was curious that the killer, with his obvious sensitivity to minder talent, hadn’t noticed Pico. Then Luka remembered she’d fooled the CPS Testing Center, so maybe it fooled the killer, too.

  “Pico,” he subvocalized, “can you flatline his Davydov? You’ll only have one shot, or he’ll feel it coming.”

  “Oh, I think I have a very good idea,” said the man. “Apex predators always recognize the talent of another.”

  “Yes,” said Pico, “but it’ll fry your percomps and earwires.”

  Luka needed to keep the man busy. He took a stab in the dark, based on a flash of intuition. “Are you a CPS employee, or just a contractor?”

  He heard a quick breath of surprise. “Whatever do you mean, Mr. Foxe?” The innocence was exaggerated.

  “Contractor, then,” said Luka loudly. “CPS employees are smug about it.”

  Pico’s shoulders tensed as she raised two fists. Luka hastily pulled off his earwire and started peeling off his percomp.

  The man laughed genuinely. “You’re right–” He screamed in pain. The wall lights in the hall and atrium sparked and went dark.

  “Sojaire, run!” yelled Luka, throwing his smoking percomp to the ground.

  Luka ran into the atrium, in time to see Sojaire, burdened with two children, trying to kick through the main doors that wouldn’t open.

  A smallish, thin man with a receding hairline stalked after him. One hand held a knife, ready to throw. The other hand, charred and bloody, was cradled against his stomach.

  “Why don’t you pick on someone your own size?” snarled Pico. She had a surprisingly big voice, and the atrium amplified it.

  The man glanced at her, then did a double-take. “It was you!” He veered toward her and cocked the knife. “I’m going to feast today.”

  From the north and south hallways, the unmistakable sounds of energy weapons and projectile fire heralded the start of the crew’s assault. Behind him, he heard Miguel urging the children to run.

  Pico heard it, too. Desperation warred with anger in her expression. She raised her fists. A heavy wall panel suddenly flipped forward and slammed into the man
. A second one followed and landed on top of him, flattening him under its weight. Each panel had to weigh a hundred kilos.

  Pico wiped at her suddenly bloody nose as she looked at the panels, confusion and wonder on her face.

  Luka turned around just in time to see Miguel carrying his sister and herding the other children. Luka scooped up the closest two. Sojaire was turning the manual crank for the front door’s iris. Luckily, it opened from the bottom first, so they could crawl through if they had to. A stray energy beam lanced into the atrium from the north hall. They were out of time. He’d have to hope that the crew found and finished off the man under the panels, if he wasn’t already dead.

  “Pico! Grab the kids, now!”

  * * * * *

  Andra held her breath until Truòng made it back to the large clump of elephant-leafed plants that Dortief and Vandeerink were hiding under. He’d been fast and efficient at spraying the base compound onto all the windows of the lecture hall he could reach, but she only had one rifle and two flechette guns to protect him with while he worked. She’d given Truòng her shockstick.

  The application of the catalyst would start the real fun. With real-time comms restored, the entire self-appointed team had been sending messages to their friends in the lecture hall, directing them to casually move toward the windows. By then, it’d become clear to the lecture hall occupants that the mercs weren’t security for a VIP; they were jailers. The idea was to prevent the mercs from immediately noticing the increased light and fresh air until the windows finished melting. She’d gotten the idea from the meltglass tables in Dominar Carlotta’s, and Vandeerink, bless his mischief-making heart, had happily contributed his chemistry knowledge to the task. Dortief raided a supply closet for two vertical cleaning nozzles and the bigger cleaning robots they belonged to, and Truòng, with his enviable minder fixer talent, helped her fashion them into manual sprayers attached to canisters.

  Ms. Chao and Ms. Hranush, two more of the lecture hall escapees, had raided one of the chemistry supply closets, then holed up in the audio-visual closet that Jerzi had found earlier, making remote-detonated smoke bombs. Their idea had been to make it hard for the combatants to get around on the second floor. Andra talked them into sneaking the bombs into the second-floor chemistry lab near the circulation intake, then waiting until her signal to trigger them all at once. The smoke should pour into the lecture hall, and again set off the fire suppressant system, which should keep the mercs busy.