Pico's Crush

by Carol Van Natta

  She was surprised to see at least twenty people milling around, and a few more seated on the faux sandy beach that marked the floater’s rim. The crew must have abandoned control of the area. A mid-sized boat was pulling away from the second berth.

  “Professor De Luna, where were you?” Andra looked around for the speaker, and finally saw one of her Materials Science students, who had been in the second wave of escapees. He looked sweaty and wrinkled, but otherwise unharmed.

  “Just hanging around, watching the fun. Have you seen Ms. Grien or her brother?”

  “Sure, you just missed them. They’re with Mr. Lavong. I think Trenton got hurt.”

  “Where?”

  Severin pointed out to sea. “On the boat.”

  Andra used her oculars to zoom in on the boat. It was an emergency dock boat, like the one she’d told Vestering to use. Lavong was at the controls, and Melly and her brother were seated close to him. One blink closer revealed that Trenton was leaning on Melly, and his head was bleeding. Lavong was piloting with one hand and holding a beamer on the pair with the other.

  Swearing in Spanish, she started to pull out her Hellrim, but realized she’d never make the shot. She knew someone who could. She turned and sprinted for all she was worth toward the east stairway.

  She tapped her earwire. “Jerzi. Lavong has the Griens in the boat that’s leaving the transport stop. He’ll kill them.”

  “On it,” said Jerzi. His unquestioning trust was a balm.

  “Why would he do that?” asked Pico.

  Andra hit the stairway door and slammed it open. “I think he’s crew, or they bought him.” She took the stairs two at a time. “Explains the tech suppressors in all the buildings. I should have seen it. I don’t know where the profit is, though.” She was out of practice at subvocalizing while panting for breath.

  She grabbed the handrail to help control her swing to the second-floor set of stairs. She wasn’t going to need a gym visit this week. Maybe this month.

  “I do,” said Luka. “Blackmarket pharma clones. My police contact said mercs punched two more labs today, and they both belong to crew in that line of business. The university’s isolated physical chemistry labs were a perfect setup. Much easier than the organic chemistry labs in the medical area.”

  “I have a general lock on the target,” said Jerzi, “but no eyes. Scopes got cracked. I need you.”

  The third floor landing was wet, and she almost wrenched her shoulder, trying to stay upright. “Aw, gunnin,” she puffed out between gasps for air, “you say… the sweetest… things.”

  “Kiss me later. Watch out for the blood at the top of the stairs.”

  The rooftop door opened ahead of her, like the proverbial door into light. She pulled herself up the last couple of steps and splashed heedlessly through the pool of blood that came from the body of a dead merc. Pico stood at the doorway and pointed north. “He’s set up on the wall.”

  Andra dropped her fifteen-kilo gun bag at Pico’s feet and felt momentarily like she could fly, but she shook it off, knowing it to be euphoria caused by exhaustion. She could collapse later.

  She skirted around the flitter stacker, still mostly full of airborne vehicles, and sprinted straight for Jerzi’s familiar broad shoulders. His camo vest had matched the color of the retaining wall, making his bare arms look like an organic architectural detail.

  “Lift me up on the ledge,” she said.

  He turned from his railgun and caught her by the waist as she jumped, then swung her around so she was seated facing out. She found the boat and locked in on it, then blinked to activate her oculars. She twitched her left eye sideways to connect to the railgun’s onboard systems.

  From her peripheral vision, she saw Jerzi adjusted a control on his gun. “Best place is near the gate,” he said. “He’ll be distracted. The flags give me wind direction, at least there.”

  She read off the numbers from her oculars. “Distance to the gate is… nineteen eighty-seven, which is about the end of my range. Target is twelve hundred twelve meters. Angle is forty-one, maybe forty-two. He’s stuck in the traffic lane, but once he hits that gate, he’s free to turn. Top speed for the emergency evacuation boats is twenty-nine KPH, and he’s pushing it.”

  Jerzi swore. “This targeting system is gówno. “ He turned to yell over his shoulder. “Pico, I need your brain.”

  “My eyes, her brain. What are you, Crush, an illegal cloner?” She didn’t want to lose the target, so she didn’t look when she heard Pico’s footsteps.

  “He’s building a Frankenstein monster.” Pico sounded exhausted, but at least she still had her sense of humor.

  “Numbers?” he asked.

  “Distance sixteen twenty-seven. Speed twenty eight. Angle thirty-eight.”

  “Pico, the gate is nineteen eighty-seven. When will he hit it?”

  “Nine seconds.”

  “Count it down for me,” he ordered.

  “Eight… seven…”

  Andra blocked out the distraction and kept her eyes on the boat. “No change. Lavong is leaning forward. Ear or throat?”

  “Yes,” said Jerzi. He sounded cool and calm, like she remembered so well.

  “Five…” said Pico.

  The railgun beside her whispered, and the projectile went subsonic, drowning out Pico’s voice.

  “…three…”

  The railgun whispered again.

  “…one…”

  Lavong’s head jerked, and blood exploded on the far side, spattering the windscreen. He started to topple, then jerked as the second projectile plowed through his neck like butter and shattered the windscreen altogether. With no one at the helm, the boat’s safety systems flashed bright blue and took control. The boat slowed to a stop and began drifting.

  Melly Grien dragged her brother away from the carnage, so she could cradle him in the middle of the boat.

  The wall under Andra began to vibrate. Because she’d grown up on a seismically active continent, she knew to get off the edges of high buildings. She spun around to get off the ledge. Jerzi caught her as the vibration got more intense and threw her forward. He staggered with suddenly unstable footing, but managed to grab his railgun even as he let her down. Pico picked up his gun bag and stumbled toward the airpad. Sojaire came from around the stacker and ran to meet Pico, helping her stay upright on the bouncing gravel.

  “The flitters!” Jerzi shouted as they all staggered toward the airpad.

  Sojaire got Pico to the less treacherous airpad surface. Jerzi and Andra caught up with them, and Jerzi scooped up his daughter.

  “Sojaire,” yelled Luka.

  Sojaire hesitated, then ran toward Mairwen’s small, dull purple-gray flitter. Luka had just scrambled into the passenger area behind her and was reaching out a hand.

  Andra veered away from Jerzi’s side and ran to get her gun bag. Jerzi growled but kept running straight for his flitter, parked on the gravel beyond the edge of the airpad. Andra didn’t care how unhappy it made Jerzi, she wasn’t leaving her gun bag, and its entirely-too-interesting contents, for just anyone to find. The tremors nearly tripped her as she scooped up her bag. She turned and tried to concentrate on the movement of the ground under her feet. She counted herself lucky that she only fell once before throwing her bag in, narrowly missing Pico, and scrambling through the door. Pico slammed the door shut manually and scrambled into the front passenger seat as Jerzi lifted off.

  “Fly north!” ordered Andra. She tapped her earwire and subvocalized. “Go north! If that shaking is what I think it is, someone sabotaged the floater’s short-axis anchors. Once they fail, the heavier buildings will sink this side of the floater.”

  The eyes of all seven children were on her as she got to her knees. They were all sitting beside and on top of one another in the wide rear seat. “Having fun, hijitos?” She grinned at them. Miguel, the oldest boy, gave her a tentative smile.

  “Acknowledged,” said Mairwen.

  “Will it flip?” as
ked Sojaire.

  “Not unless we get a tsunami,” said Pico. “Otherwise, it’ll raise about twenty-one meters at the south center point, and the first floor of the Materials Science building’s north side will get swamped.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked.

  “Class exercise,” Andra offered over the comm. “Vestering’s approved scenario was too theoretical.” She crawled awkwardly to the side window and looked down. The Griens out at sea were probably safe enough in the emergency boat, if the floater tilted slowly enough. The military weren’t going to be thrilled that their new, temporary dock was twenty meters in the air. “Forget you heard that last bit, Ms. Adams.”

  “Where to now?” asked Jerzi.

  “Majeed’s office would be safest,” said Luka. “The last thing we need is to become casualties of a political pie fight. The police can deal with the university on notifying the children’s parents.”

  Andra stretched out her rapidly stiffening legs as best as she could over her and Jerzi’s gun bags, and leaned her back against the flitter door.

  “In that case,” Andra subvocalized, “fly east three miles to Île de L’Espoir and pick up the traffic system and let it route you. Police stations get priority.”

  “You should know,” said Jerzi, “that if the police get a look at what’s in my flitter’s hold, they’ll detain me for days. I’ve got enough confiscated weapons to start another small war, and that’s not counting Andra’s sex toy collection.”

  Andra snorted, which made her sore ribs complain. She foresaw a visit to a minor medical care center, to get some of her deeper bruises taken care of, especially the ones in her side and hip where she’d taken a few shots from the merc who hadn’t wanted her to leave.

  “They have no reason to ask,” said Luka. “But if they do, we’ll take up a collection for bail.”

  Jerzi laughed, but he winced. Andra wondered what kind of damage Jerzi, of the “think of something that doesn’t hurt” school, was hiding under his clothes, beyond the mostly healed flechette wounds from yesterday. Which led her, of the “hormones with rotten timing” school, to want to be the one to examine him. She groaned and closed her eyes.

  “If Mr. Vestering says anything, I have the perfect way to distract him,” said Pico with studied innocence.

  Andra opened one eye. “Tell me.”

  “I’ll thank him for organizing our first Merc and Crew Recruiting Day.”

  Andra was too tired to do anything more than smile, but Jerzi laughed enough for them both.

  Chapter 25

  * Planet: Nila Marbela * GDAT 3241.149 *

  “Peregrine Adams?”

  Pico nodded, but didn’t even bother straightening up from her slump. The lobby chair was only slightly less uncomfortable than the interrogation room chairs. She’d been asked her name about sixteen times, sometimes ordered to move to another room, or asked if she wanted water, but mostly just asked her name by a succession of police and military personnel. Didn’t anyone talk to anyone else?

  During their twenty-minute flight, Luka Foxe had advised them all to have a simple, clear story, and not add extraneous details. She and Sojaire sneaked out of the lecture hall, went to the childcare center in the Math building, and stayed. She was surprised when her dad’s friends Mairwen and Luka showed up to use the first-aid kit, and had no idea how Mairwen had gotten hurt.

  When they ran into the crazy man with the Davydov plasbeamer, Luka and Sojaire would claim the power blew, probably from something the crew did, and used the distraction to throw a wall panel at the crazy man. They’d dropped the second one on him just to be sure, then ran to get away from the fighting. They took the children off site for their safety.

  Yes, they’d been very lucky not to get shot by the mercs or the crew, and doubly lucky to leave before the floater foundation became unstable. Pico ruthlessly used her small size and best imitation of Melly Grien’s wide-eyed innocence to encourage the questioners to underestimate her.

  The gold-haired woman standing in front of her said, “Come with me, please.”

  She was the same officer who had taken charge of the children and asked Pico to verify that she recognized the various parents when they came to claim their children. She appreciated their diligence, which was more than she could say about the childcare center. Miguel and Celia’s dads had both hugged and kissed their children, then hugged and kissed her, too. Lyssi’s mother was subdued and polite, and had even thanked her. Sometimes it took extraordinary events to make people quit wallowing in their own personal drama.

  Pico stood and trudged after the officer. She practically had the layout of the place memorized, and she didn’t even work there. This trip took her to a nicer office than before. The name on the door read “Captain Rana Majeed.” The gold-haired woman opened the door and ushered Pico inside, then left, closing the door behind her.

  She was apparently last to the party, because her dad, Sojaire, Luka, Mairwen, and Professor De Luna were all sitting or standing in an attitude of waiting.

  “Hey, long time no see,” she said to her dad, who was leaning against the wall, a meter or so from where Professor De Luna was sitting. Mairwen stood at something like parade-rest behind Luka’s chair.

  “Hours, at least.” He smiled. He was probably relieved to see her. She felt the same.

  The only place to sit was on a couch next to Sojaire. Her feet took her there before her mind could catch up and stop her. She’d just pretend he was the illegal clone version, and face cold reality in the morning. He made the illusion seem more real when he took her hand in his once she sat.

  “Door,” said Mairwen softly. Pico suppressed a smile. She’d overheard grumbling from one of the military interrogators, whom she suspected might be a telepath, that Mairwen might be deaf.

  A few seconds later, an Arabic woman strode into the room, shut the door, then crossed to behind the desk, but didn’t sit. She was tall enough to be a Jumper, and she had an aura of command.

  “I’m Captain Majeed. It’s nearly midnight, past my bedtime, so I’ll get straight to the point. I know, and the military probably guesses, that you’ve left out some key facts. I also know Foxe well enough to know I’m not going to get them out of you, because he chooses his friends well. I could tie you offworlders up here for days, but it would likely piss you off, and I’d rather have your cooperation.” She put her hands on the back of her executive chair. “Here’s my offer. I let you all go now, in exchange for your promise to faithfully answer any pings from me on specifics. Don’t make me hunt you down across the galaxy, because it won’t be me, it’ll be the military. They lost three boats when the floater anchors failed, and took heavy fire from the crew, so they’d be easy to motivate.”

  “What about us locals?” asked Professor De Luna.

  Majeed frowned. “Optimal Polytechnic is being a pain in the ass. They’re calling in every political favor they can, trying to get you and Ms. Adams released, or at least in protective custody, and the whole case shielded from journalists. Their security people are sticking their chopsticks in my rice bowl. They’ll exert pressure on you both to stop cooperating, but I hope you can find ways to help us. At least three students and four faculty are dead, so far, and who knows how many are hurt. I’d like to go after the people who are responsible.”

  Pico hadn’t known about the casualties, and it distressed her to think of her friends being shot. Frustration and anger boiled up in her. “The university can eat hot death as far as I’m concerned. They care more about their reputation than anything else. The only thing they can do to me is expel me.”

  She noticed she was squeezing Sojaire’s hand hard and tried to let go, but he wouldn’t let her. Exhaustion coursed through her, then a trickle of something else, small and subtle. She finally recognized it as healing energy from Sojaire, like when he’d healed her nose after they’d gotten the children to the airpad. She squeezed his hand once, briefly.

  “As much as I might agree
with Ms. Adams’s sentiments,” said Professor De Luna, “my contract has a comprehensive nondisclosure clause and lawsuit-happy lawyers to back it up. However, the university regents have to specifically invoke it.” She sighed. “I can’t tell you how much it pains me to say this, because there are about a half-dozen beers, a shower, and a soft bed calling to me, but your only chance at me is tonight, while I’m still in your tender care.”

  Pico turned to her dad when he cleared his throat. “You may as well keep me, too,” he said. “I’ll be in seven days of transit back to Rekoria, starting the day after tomorrow. Your pings might not reach me for days, and I don’t want to be spread-eagled on the pavement at the Etonver spaceport by some overeager ranker bucking for promotion.”

  The corner of Majeed’s mouth quirked in a brief smile. “Thank you both. I’ll try not to waste your time. I’ll get you something to eat, and maybe a chance at a shower. The rest of you can pick up your comps and comms at the front.”

  Pico was glad her dad was staying with Professor De Luna. She deserved a friend in her corner, and there was no one better than her dad.

  Luka stood, which was the cue for her and Sojaire to stand, as well, and addressed Majeed. “I’ll ping you tomorrow, after we’ve all had a few hours of sleep.” He caught Jerzi’s eye. “We’ll take care of Pico.” He started to leave, then turned back to Majeed. “You might want to get a medic in for your guests. I think her ribs are cracked, and he’s probably bruised from head to toe.”

  Pico couldn’t resist a glance at Sojaire, who’d suddenly found great fascination with his scuffed boots. He’d probably told Luka about what he sensed with his hidden healer talent.

  Majeed said she would take care of it and opened the office door for them using a control on her desk.

  Once they retrieved their flitter, Mairwen took the controls, and Luka slid his seat up close to hers. He was engrossed with her percomp, the only one that had survived Pico’s microteke blast. Mairwen took flying seriously, but Pico noticed she put a hand on Luka’s thigh and kept it there.