The Terminus experiment s-34

by Jonathan E Bond

  “This is it,” said Sandman over the tacticom. That platform should lead right to the money boy’s room. Be on the alert. Once you hit the room, it’s ringed with windows, so some dirty peeper could be watching you without my knowing It.”

  “What?” Flak growled. “You can’t get a trid feed of the room above?”

  “Sorry, Flakman. Somebody did a digital loop, and I don’t want to interrupt it. If it’s our insider, then he’s done it to cover his own tracks. If it’s not, well, you’ll know in just a minute.”

  Flak grunted. “Thanks a lot.”

  He turned to the group. “Okay, it’s showtime. Everybody keep it tight. Sin, give the package body-cover if necessary. You’ll have the ground level one-eighty. Trux, you’ll take the sky one-eighty.” He pulled out a modified Predator II from a holster at his belt. The big gun looked tiny in his grip. “I’ll take both ground level and skyward zero. Let’s move.”

  They stepped onto the platform, Sinunu pushing Rachel gently into a crouch in the center of the group. From there she could cover Rachel as well as her field of fire without obstruction.

  Rachel watched as the small elven woman pulled a slim, golden rod from a long pouch at her back.

  Then they were on the lift, and without any of them doing anything, it rose quickly and silently into the air.

  Her first thought as they came out of the darkness and into the light was that they were on stage. For just an instant, it reminded her of some of the rooms at The Tiger’s Lair, where she had worked most of her teenage years as a cocktail server.

  Woo Ling, madame of the Lair, had paid a truckload of nuyen to have a circular room constructed where the girls performed with each other and with any customers who were into exhibitionism. People could walk around the outside and watch through the glass, picking the girls they liked or just enjoying the show.

  That was what went through her head as the platform came to rest.

  “Sky one-eighty clear!”

  “Ground one-eighty clear!”

  “All clear!”

  The others had moved off the platform, and were continuing to cover their fields of fire, but Rachel had stopped noticing them, had in fact stopped breathing. She stared at the still form on the floor, at the tiny trickle of blood seeping from the back of his head.

  Scrambling out from under Sinunu’s protective stance, she moved forward on her hands and knees until she was over the body. She pulled him to her. “Warren?”

  Rachel looked down at the unfamiliar face, and then up at the runners. “Hey, this isn’t Warren.”

  Flak stepped toward her “What are you talking about?”

  Rachel pushed the man away from her. “This isn’t Warren. Can I make it any plainer?”

  Sinunu stepped up behind Flak. “You sure?”

  Rachel felt frustration bubble up through her. “Am I sure? You gotta be kidding. I’ve seen Warren naked almost every night for the last six months. You think I wouldn’t know him?”

  “Fraggit!” said Flak. “Sandman, what kind of drek is this? The target’s been switched.”

  Sandman’s voice sounded hollow over the tacticom. “You’re drekking me.”

  “Does it Sound like I’m fragging drekking you? Find him, and find him now.”

  It only took a few moments, during which time Truxa took a look at the still form. “He’s actually in pretty good shape,” she said. “What do we do with him?”

  lust then Sandman’s voice came back. “Sorry, Flakman. I can’t find your boyo anywhere else. You sure that’s not him?”

  “Positive.”

  “Then I suggest you get the hell out of there, because things are getting hot.”

  Rachel thought her heart was going to burst when she heard that. “We can’t go. Not when we’re this close. We’ve got to find him.”

  Sinunu was at her shoulder. “it’s no good. We got no recon, we got no intel, we got nowhere to even start looking. Best to pull back and try the run again from another angle.” Rachel knew Sinunu was right, but it still hurt. Everyone hustled toward the lift, when a voice from above them said, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  20

  Just got the go-ahead from D’imato, and I’ve seen the prelims. It looks like we’re going to be able to pull the whole operation out from under Marco’s nose before he even knows what’s happened. Julius thinks we can use that as further evidence that his brother should he committed. Just between you and me, I couldn’t agree more. I had a talk with the bastard by telecom yesterday, and frankly he scared the drek out of me. The sooner they lock him up the better.

  –

  Interoffice email, John Bonavear to Calvin Justran re: D’imato vs D’imato. Fillips, Bonavear, and Justran, Attorneys at Law, Seattle, 07 August 2060

  The men had done an excellent job, there was no doubt about that. Even the Mobmaster was running completely silent, its welded, crash-bar wedge plowing trash and dust out of the way as the convoy rolled through Hell’s Kitchen.

  Julius sat next to Biggs, who sat directly behind the rigger running the Mobmaster, Biggs wore his heavy combat helmet, its dark visor pulled down for thermographic vision. With the blowing dust, Julius couldn’t make out a thing around them, and knew he had to trust the rigger’s skills.

  Julius wasn’t interested in the scenery anyway. He was staring at the tiny image on his portable telecom, and the anger surging through him was making the screen shake.

  “And you listen to me, brother,” he said. “I don’t know what you have in mind here, but I know where my son is, and I’m going to get him. You don’t like that, we can talk about what the hell you’re up to when I get back. Until then, there isn’t anything you can say to make me change my mind.”

  The face on the screen looked grim. “Julius, listen to reason. I’m telling you, somebody is playing you for a fool. Warren isn’t out in Hell’s Kitchen. He’s somewhere dockside. Come back, and lets do this right, not go oft half-cocked to flatten some little facility out in the middle of nowhere, full of people who have no clue why you’re coming after them.”

  Despite himself, Julius had to smile at the image. “Tell you what, if I’ve made a mistake, I’ll apologize. However, I know I haven’t made a mistake.”

  From beside him, Biggs spoke, “Sir, the decker’s got site layouts. They’re coming up on the front screen now.”

  Julius looked at Marco again. “Got to go. We’re almost on top of the target, and we’re just getting last-minute details.”

  “Wait! There are things you don’t know- Julius watched as the entire left side of Marco’s face seemed to expand and contract violently, and a line of white spittle trailed from his mouth to leave a track of blackness down his chin. Marco’s neck muscles bulged until it looked as if they were going erupt right through his skin.”

  “Damn it, Marco! Are you all right?”

  Even on the small screen, Julius could tell that his brother’s entire body was shaking and trembling. “Marco, talk to me.”

  After a few seconds, the tremor passed as quickly as it had come. Marco slumped toward the screen for a second, then righted himself with obvious effort. “Damn,” he said, in a suddenly tired voice. “That was a bad one.”

  Julius looked closely. Marco’s left eye was filled with black blood that spilled over his lid and tracked down his cheek. He wiped at it with a curled fist, like a child wiping away a tear.

  “Marco, I told you that needed to be checked, and now it’s getting worse. You need to call that doctor of yours. Tell him what’s going on. Find out if there’s anything he can do.”

  Marco shook his head. “I already have, and he’s looking into it. But let’s get back to the point before you do something that will jeopardize our operation here.”

  Suddenly Julius was sick of talking to his brother, sick everything to do with the family, with the corporation. The only thing he cared about was Warren and getting him back safely.

  “Marco, shut up.”

 
; The Look of shock and anger on Marco’s face was frightening. In a low, cold tone, he said, “I think the stress has made you forget yourself, little brother.”

  Julius laughed. “I haven’t forgotten anything, big brother. I haven’t forgotten that if it wasn’t for you, my son wouldn’t be out here in the middle of nowhere, with some insane thing that wants him dead just to hurt you. Remember the trideo recording? This whole thing is because of you. So just shut up. I’m going in, and this conversation is over. You want to try and stop me, you go right ahead. You’ll find out just how far I’m willing to take this. And considering your delicate position, I think you just better sit tight and let me do whatever I want. Is that clear?”

  If Marco’s tone was cold before, it was positively arctic now. “Are you threatening me? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

  Julius thought about the night Marco had come to him, changed into a vampire, and asked for his help. “I should have asked you that eight years ago, just after your little ‘accident,’ but I didn’t. Or maybe you should have asked me that when you came to me two years back and told me things were going to be different, and again asked me to back your play. You’ve taken everything I’ve ever loved and ruined it, including the brother I used to have. Well, I’m taking some of mine back. Now.”

  With that, Julius disconnected. Hitting a button that rolled down the bullet-proof glass, he tossed the telecom out the window.

  Julius turned to Biggs, who had lifted his visor and was watching him with a raised eyebrow. Julius smiled. “All right, Let’s take a look at those layouts and see if we can make tonight go a bit easier.”

  21

  Imagine a troll infected with a custom strain of HMHVV. In addition to his already fearsome size and strength, the troll could be endowed with the classic vampire’s abilities to transform into mist and regenerate damage, the formorian’s resistance to magic, the goblin’s tolerance for fire, and the bandersnatch’s adaptive coloration and high reproductive rate. Such a monstrosity-virtually impervious to harm, ravening for blood and able to reproduce-would cut a swath of destruction wherever it went.

  –

  Martin de Vries, Shadows at Noon, posted to Shadowland BBS, 24 May 2057

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  As the voice from above echoed in the operating theater, Sinunu reacted even without thinking. Pushing Rachel to the floor, she spun into a kneeling position, bringing both her crossbow and HK MP-5TX on target simultaneously.

  The crossbow twanged as soon as she had a viable target-the dark, strangely deformed figure standing at the top of the short stairway just to the side of the huge pentagram. The steps led to a supply elevator.

  Then everything clicked into slow motion as she realized what she’d done. Sinunu watched as the arrow streaked toward the figure she now recognized as de Vries. The reason he looked deformed was because he had something slung across his shoulders.

  As suddenly as the realization hit her, de Vries moved gingerly down a step, and to the left. He reached out with his free hand, easily snagging the wooden bolt from mid-air.

  “Frag!” Sinunu was on her feet, her regret turning to anger the instant she understood the vampire was safe.

  Dc Vries smiled down on her, gently twirling the feathered shaft in his fingers as if it were some kind of cheerleader’s baton. “You seem to be a bit on edge, my dear”

  He quickly descended the steps to the floor.

  Sinunu felt a small hand on her shoulder. She turned and saw Truxa standing there, a smile on her full lips. “Baby, don’t get mad. You reacted, that’s all.”

  Sinunu felt her hands unclench.

  Flak was still staring at de Vries. “What the hell are you doing? Where the hell did you go? And who the hell is that?” He pointed at the dark-haired man over de Vries’ shoulder.

  De Vries smiled. “Not enough time for a full explanation, but this man is going to be our decoy. If Marco D’imato were to learn that his nephew had been rescued, he’d simply grab him again and we’d never find him.”

  Rachel pushed to her feet beside Sinunu. “This isn’t Warren,” she said. “We got the wrong chamber or something.” De Vries stepped over to the vat and looked at the body on the floor. Then he dumped the body of the man he carried next to the one who’d crawled out of the vat. He was shaking his head. “Bloody hell,” he said, for an instant going into what Sinunu guessed was a trance.

  “What now?” Flak said, breaking de Vries’ reverie. “We don’t have time to change tactics and search for our target. Your mole gave you faulty intel and now we’re on the verge of being fragged for no gain.”

  “We bail,” Sinunu said. “We’ll have to regroup, and come back after we get better intel.”

  From behind her, she heard Flak grunt again. “Good idea, chica. Let’s get the frag out of here.”

  De Vries lifted the decoy’s body and led the group to the platform. Even under the combined weight of the entire team, the gleaming platform drifted silently downward. Then they were back in the tiled chamber again.

  Sinunu looked at de Vries, who stood next to her, the decoy like a limp, naked rag over his shoulder. “What are you going to do with him?”

  De Vries shrugged, the movement causing the unconscious man’s body to bounce up and down. “I’m not entirely sure. I don’t like the idea of leaving him here, so I guess I’ll take him as far as I can, and then decide.”

  Sinunu nodded. It made sense. When you were on a run, you did what you could, and then you did what you had to.

  They were just passing through the door of the decon chamber when Sandman’s voice came over the tacticom, “We got uninvited guests. The system bumped to full alert. The whole compound just lit up like a Christmas tree, and the grounds are swarming with people.”

  “Frag it!” said Flak into the tacticom as they moved quietly into the locker room. “What did we trip?”

  There was a short pause, then Sandman said, “Nothing. It wasn’t us. Evidently the bad guys are expecting some heavy-duty party crashers. They’re setting up some serious drek out there.”

  Quickly, and quietly, they began to move down the hallway, Sinunu and Flak switching point at every hallway juncture.

  “What’s the easiest way back to the van?”

  Another pause from Sandman, this one much longer. “You’re not gonna like this, Flak. They got the back buttoned up even tighter than the front. According to Short Eyes, this place is full of vampires and they got wind of us. We’re rolling, even as we speak.”

  “Drek. All right, can you stay in the system?”

  “Null sheen. Hold tight for a few ticks while I work out your best exit route and how we can meet up. You solid with that?”

  Sinunu stopped listening at that moment. From around the dimly lit corner, she saw movement, shadowy outlines against the wall.

  “Action on our twelve,” she whispered into her tacticom. “Fade back?”

  “Negative,” came Flak’s reply. “We got to get the frag out of here. Let’s light ‘em up.”

  The shadow figures seemed to glide swiftly from left to right, and for just a moment, Sinunu couldn’t tell what they were doing, then it hit her. They were checking all the doors, making sure they were locked.

  She heard a soft shuffle behind her, and could tell from his subtle odor that Flak was at her back.

  Suddenly the shadows stiffened, going completely still.

  “Now,” came Flak’s whisper.

  From her left, Sinunu heard Truxa mutter a quiet chant, then give a soft clap, setting off a spell. Sinunu rolled onto the floor just as a gout of greenish-brown fluid shot over her shoulder and down the hallway. She came to a crouch as the shadowy things leapt out of the way. There were three of them, and the furthest one didn’t move fast enough.

  The green acid completely engulfed it, rending flesh parts in a putrid explosion.

  Sinunu didn’t have time to care. There were two of the things left, and for
the first time, she had a good idea just what they were up against. If Sandman was right, these were vampires and made Number One look like a child’s toy.

  The closest was a human male. She could tell by his features that he’d been black at one time, though now his dark skin was a dusky color that contrasted with the short dreds crowning his head.

  He stood almost two meters, and wore only a pair of synthleather pants. His upper torso was covered in spiked studs that had surely been implanted, making him look like some vampiric porcupine. She watched as two twenty-centimeter razors snicked from his forearms. He smiled, showing his fangs.

  Just behind him, tiny by comparison was a vampire woman. A mishmash of scars lined her face, making her lips form a lopsided vee shape where the bottom lip had been crudely sewn back together.

  Unlike the first vampire, she seemed completely unmodified until she held up her small hands and ten-centimeter scalpels slid from beneath her fingers.

  “It’s time to play,” said the woman, and suddenly they were moving. Fast.

  The man streaked down the hall, an inarticulate howl coming from his lips as Sinunu took aim with the crossbow. Three bolts flew, but the man deflected them with the spurs on his arms.

  Sinunu started to roll backward, knowing that the vampire would overwhelm her before she could bring her machine pistol to bear.

  The monster crossed the last few meters, leaping into the air to land on top of her, when a huge, gnarled hand flashed out of the hallway.

  Flak snagged the vampire just below the left spur, at the wrist. Letting his weight act as a fulcrum Flak spun the thing face-first into the wall. There was a sickening crunch, and the vampire sank to the ground, leaving a trail of black ichor oozing down the wall.

  The woman shifted her target, howling for Flak’s back, which was momentarily exposed. Sinunu yelled for him to look out, but she might have saved her breath. De Vries was there, standing tall between Flak and the leaping woman.

  Just as the dog had tried to do outside the compound, the woman tried to change course when she realized she was up against one of her own kind. She screamed and slashed with ten scalpels.