by K. Gorman
A ding sounded. The doors opened with a quiet rumble, revealing what she assumed to be the boss’ office.
The view on all sides showed the nighttime lights of the Shin Okayama suburb. With Lokabrenna in closer orbit, the clouds above had a slight blue tint even at night, which made the night seem even deeper than normal. Lush vegetation and well-maintained boulevards shaped the streets beyond Ajin’s wrought-iron and sandstone fencing. From here, she could see all the way to the skyscrapers at the city center, underlighting the clouds with a thick, soft light. Closer, the beige carpet cut brightly against the dark window, making her feel like she’d just walked in on a platform rather than a room. A small sitting area—four chairs and a coffee table, all in light brown—lay to her left, looking out on the front of the building, and a second reception desk met them before the hallway split to either side to funnel around an office that she could only describe as a glass box that took up the center of the floor plan.
An eyebrow twitched beneath her bandage. If these guys had been looking for privacy, a glass box office was not the way to go about it.
It was richly furnished, at least. And it had the same kind of thin, slatted blinds as the appointment room downstairs. And, though the massive desk that sat at the head of the box matched the glass on the sides, the chair thankfully did not. They’d opted for something more ergonomic.
Nomiki led her back around, walking to the rear of the elevator to reveal a mirrored design on the opposite half of the wing. Same office, same furniture, similar view. So, the two bosses shared a level. She wondered which bore the brunt of the elevator traffic.
Through the glass, she caught her first sight of the men who’d ordered a half dozen metal spheres to chase her around sitting on the office’s beige couch with their backs to their approach and four soldiers standing guard over them in the room. Although they shared a similar Asian ancestry, the two couldn’t have been more different. The one on the right sat at an uneasy angle, with a harried, dusty kind of hairstyle that looked a little overgrown, and a short, wiry frame that, though he sat still, just about radiated his unease. One of his knees was bouncing up and down at an anxious pace.
The other, by contrast, sat taller and older. Serene, with his arms presumably crossed over his chest—coming up from behind, she couldn’t see their fronts yet, but could guess by the angle—he looked either like a man in charge of weekend yoga retreats or someone who was waiting for his lawyer to arrive.
As she drew closer, she put her money on the latter.
“You recognize either of them yet?” she asked Nomiki.
“Nope. You?”
“Nada. Maybe they’re unconnected to Seirlin.”
“Maybe. Doesn’t mean I’m not going to have fun with them,” Nomiki said. “Brindon’s given me a bit of leeway with this one, considering.”
“She’s generous, isn’t she?”
“Most times, yes.” She cleared her throat. “One of them—the taller one, I think—is supposed to be Dr. Eric Lin. Neurologist of some sort, so maybe he’s the brains of the company, har har.” Nomiki flashed a grin at her cringe. “The other should be Dr. Shinji Tasuhada. Cybernetic specialist with a surgical degree.”
“Huh. You sure this isn’t a division of Seirlin?”
“Pretty sure. Cookie didn’t find anything about them, anyway.”
“He found the rest of the information?”
“Yep. Now, come on.” Nomiki tugged on her good hand, pulling her around the corner of the room and toward the door on the other side. “Let’s get you in for a checkup.”
A slight floral smell tinted the air as they let themselves in, not so much an overpowering perfume as the smell of healthy leaves which Karin tracked to a potted tree in the corner. The desk was empty except for two tablets and a holoscreen base, all of which lay dormant. The remnants of a take-out meal sat in a bag on the floor next to one leg of the table.
The two men balked as soon as they entered, one paling visibly and looking like he just about wet himself—Tasuhada, the shorter one.
“Oh, shit,” he said, squirming. “That’s her, isn’t it? The killer bi—”
The tall man beside elbowed him sharply.
“The killer bitch?” Nomiki finished for him, amusement languid in her tone. “Yes, that’s me.” She turned to Karin, looking like a cat who’d just caught a mouse. “Say, they do know us.”
“Oh, gods, please don’t kill me. You—” he turned to the guards, who’d retreated to the side of the room. “Don’t let her kill me. Please. You’ve got to—”
“They work for me,” Nomiki said.
A small lie, and one that, judging by the twitch of eyebrows on the nearest soldier’s face, didn’t go unnoticed, but none of the soldiers challenged it, and as she watched in the background, letting her sister take center stage, she caught a couple quickly-hidden smiles.
They’re enjoying this, then.
Good.
“So,” Nomiki continued, sauntering forward. “You going to tell me why you sent a bunch of electrified metal floaty assassins after my sister, or do I get to be creative?”
Tasuhada cringed. “They weren’t assassins!”
Beside him, Lin threw him a sharp, annoyed look. “Stop talking.”
Huh. Nomiki may have been right in that he carried the brains of the company.
Her sister eyed him. “You know, we’ve entered Emergency Bill C-587 territory now. If you’re waiting for a lawyer, you might be out of luck.” She turned back to Tasuhada. “Tell me more about these not-assassins? I understand they killed at least two people. A pretty impressive record for a few not-assassins.”
“They were just supposed to stun. I didn’t mean—” He cut himself off with a swear. “The operators amped up their voltage more than they were supposed to. And went too far. I never told them to track her into a station.”
“Right, because tracking me through a shopping mall is so much safer for the public,” Karin said.
“And what were you going to do once she’d been stunned?” Nomiki’s eyebrows raised. “Do you know how dangerous it is to be an unconscious woman on the street?”
That… was a bit of a stretch. And Nomiki knew it.
But Tasuhada cringed anyway. “We just wanted to get to her before the others did.”
“How did you hear about her, anyway?” Nomiki frowned. “It can’t have been from the Alliance feeds, since you clearly know about me, as well.”
Huh. She hadn’t thought about that. As she inched forward, Lin glanced over at her, his eyes flowing over her form in a quiet, professional assessment. After a moment, he seemed to come to a decision. When Tasuhada went to speak again, he unfolded one hand from his lap and put it on Tasuhada’s arm.
“Be quiet, Shinji.”
Nomiki’s attention arrowed in on him like a snake. She didn’t say anything, only waited.
“We’ve been in the biomedical business for more than ten years now. As such, we have kept our ears to the wires of the community. When a giant like Seirlin stumbled and your wanted posters shot through the streams, we knew something immense had occurred. My colleague, Bryan Ling, used to work for the corporation. He filled us in on what he knew, and we filed it away for a later time, when it would become useful. That time came.”
“Bryan Ling, the pediatrician?” Karin asked.
“Yes.” Lin nodded his head. “He’s dead now, since that’s your next question. Passed away two years ago on Tala.”
“Ah. I’d been looking for him.” Nomiki paused. “That still doesn’t explain what you wanted with Karin.”
“Just to examine her. Brain scans. Blood and tissue samples. Nothing too much. Perhaps hire her on, if she were willing.”
“And you decided that sending floaty metal balls after her was the greatest plan?”
“That,” he said, a distinct and cold emphasis entering his voice as he turned his attention back to Tasuhada. “Was not my plan.”
Tasuhada cringed furthe
r as the room’s attention switched back to him. For a moment, it was so silent, she could hear the clicking of the overhead ventilation.
“Well, that wasn’t smart,” Nomiki said. “And now, you get to pay for it.”
“What are you going to do?” Tasuhada said in a small voice.
“No, it’s what you are going to do,” she said. “You work for me now. I’m sure we’ll be seeing plenty of each other in the future.” She smiled. “You may even be getting the samples you wanted.”
Karin felt her jaw gape open as the tail end of Nomiki’s statement registered. But, before she could say anything, Nomiki had plucked her sleeve, spun her around, and led them back out of the room.
“Military’s taking over. They’re bringing Takahashi in. Brindon wants to try manufacturing a way to heal the Lost without you.”
“For which they’ll need samples.”
“Only a few. I already have them.”
“What? Ow!” She jerked as Nomiki snapped a hair from her head. “What the fuck?”
Nomiki giggled. “Actually, that was just for fun. We’ve already got your blood at the med wing, thanks to you getting shot.”
“Great,” she said. “So I just have a shitty, sadistic older sister.”
“Yep—but you knew that already.”
As they wound back around to the elevators and prepared to leave, Karin stifled the huff of laughter that threatened to escape.
Yes. She already knew that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
One Week Later
Soo-jin swayed as she limped down the hall, one arm wrapped tight around Karin’s neck and leaning hard on her shoulder, and the other gripping the remains of the burned, tattered, blood-stained shirt she’d been shot in.
“Maybe I should frame it,” she was saying—and she nearly tipped them both forward as she brandished it. “You know, a kind of memento mori of the time I was shot and nearly died.”
“You certainly haven’t slowed down on the humor,” Karin said. “I don’t think I’ve heard you talk this fast since you came across a collection of post-noir movie strips on Enlil’s market net.”
“Hey, what can I say?” Soo-jin’s shrug rolled through both of their shoulders. “I’ve had part of my lung reconstructed. Gotta give it a good test ru—ow. Chair. Now.”
They angled for a small bench at the side of the hallway, and Karin put her down with a huff of breath.
Soo-jin’s nose had wrinkled, eyes squinted shut more in distaste than pain. “Gods, how far was that this time?”
Karin glanced back down the way they’d come. The sounds of the hospital ward played around them, less frenetic than the day she and Soo-jin had been admitted. Instead, a kind of peaceful atmosphere had descended over the place. People still came and went, but it had a casual air to it. As far as she knew, no one was being floated into emergency triage surgery today.
This was their third attempt to leave the place, and she could still see the door to the recovery room Soo-jin had been staying in. Drawing herself up, she made a show of squinting her eyes and gauging the distance with her hands. “About three meters.”
“Shit. It’s going to take us forever to get back.” Soo-jin made to slump back against the wall, but a flinch of pain forced her to stop and take the action at a slower speed. “Let’s hope they have benches all the way.”
“I could always get a wheelchair. I’m sure they have one of the hover-models around for coolness.”
“I believe they call those ‘stretchers,’ and no. I’ll walk out of here myself.” Soo-jin opened an eye and settled it on Karin. “You don’t have to stay. I can do it myself.”
Karin snorted. “No, you can’t.”
“Sure I can. I’ll crawl if that’s what it takes to get out of here.”
She didn’t doubt that. Soo-jin was a determined woman. She did doubt that she would need to crawl if Karin abandoned her. More than a few of the center’s staff had taken a liking to her.
“Well, it’s my day off, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,” Karin said.
“In that case, I vote we take a rest.” Soo-jin patted the seat next to her. “Come on. Let’s gossip.”
When had they ever stopped gossiping? Karin had filled her in on most of everything that had happened in the week she’d been out, up to and including how they’d found out the maker of the metal spheres and how Nomiki had metaphorically grabbed his ball sack. Takahashi was working with the Ajin people now, using their equipment to develop some of the serums used in Eurynome. Now that he’d been given access to the files, he seemed to be chugging right along, barely conscious of passing time.
Suns. No wonder Seirlin had employed the man. He was a productivity machine.
Still no sign of Sasha, but Fallon had every radar in their territory ready for even a whisper of her to come across the feeds. And talks with the Alliance had started. The war wasn’t quite over, but they’d agreed to a ceasefire.
She sank back against the wall, closing her eyes. “I think the Mess is changing up its food rations.”
“What? Why?”
“I healed some of the cooks.”
“Oh.” Soo-jin relaxed again. “Thank Sol. You had me scared for a minute. They aren’t getting rid of the Japanese Curry, are they? I like that stuff.”
“Don’t worry, lots of other people like that stuff, too. They’re more expanding the rations rather than changing them.”
“Good. Aiya.” A bubble of laughter came up from her chest. “I thought for a second I’d have to go through my recovery with sub-par food.”
“Nope. And there’s still the restaurants,” Karin said. “They’ll deliver on base.”
“Yeah, but my money’s just about out. Unless I can get a fix-it job, or we sell some of our loot, I’m kind of boned for cash.” She gave Karin’s arm a light smack. “Hey, you. Don’t heal any of their mechanics, okay? They can pay me instead.”
Karin nodded. “Got it.”
“Yo, my ladies!” Up the hall, a tall, dark-skinned figure had turned the corner. Cookie’s smile brimmed wide on his face as he strutted toward them. “Have I got something to show you.”
“Oh, gods, it better not be dick pics,” Soo-jin murmured, then plastered a smile on her face as she raised her voice. “Is it better than Rifemaker’s Fire Bow?”
Karin didn’t get the reference, but assumed it came from one of the netgames the two of them had played in the past.
“Er… yes?” Cookie faltered as he drew close. “Better because it is real, anyway.” He gave them and the bench a brief assessment, then squatted down in front of them, pulling his netlink out of his pocket. “Remember when you told me to get a mole into Seirlin’s system?”
“What?” Karin said, at the same time as a grin split Soo-jin’s face.
“You did it? And it worked, and you’re in?”
“Yes, yes, and yes.” Cookie smiled. “Everything yes.”
“You delightful little hacker man.” Soo-jin reached out and patted his shaved head in a mock-affectionate matter, then leaned forward to drop her hand to his netlink. “Show us.”
Karin leaned forward, realization trickling in as Cookie brought up his netlink interface, traced through into a subwindow, and brought the Seirlin logo up on the screen. She’d seen him working on it for the better part of the week. Always off to the side, always in secret, never on the Nemina’s screens. She’d checked. None of his networks had ever touched the Nemina—so far as she could see.
“You hacked Seirlin,” she breathed. “Like, Seirlin Seirlin, not just Genomics.”
“Yep. Seirlin Seirlin.”
His bright smile beamed up at her—he was pleased, she could tell. As well he should be. Seirlin formed one of the largest companies on Nova Earth, and the network security there, she’d heard, was intense.
“Did you find anything about Sasha? Eurynome? Earth?”
“Not yet,” he said. “But I’ve spent the last three days downloading parts of their
systems. We’ll have lots of time to poke around.”
Soo-jin’s smile widened, taking on a wicked edge. “And here I thought I was going to have a boring recovery.”
“You know I wouldn’t allow that to happen. As soon as you’re back on the ship, I’ll have you set up and ready to go.”
Yes. Back to the ship. That was the problem, wasn’t it?
A grin split her lips as an idea sparked inside her. As Cookie stood, she nodded up at him, turning it into a toothy smile.
“Hey, you ever do a two-person chair carry before?”
WORLD SHIFT
BOOK FOUR
Chapter One
“You’re saying you know how my powers work?”
Karin Makos couldn’t help the frown that drew down her brow—or the doubtful tone that churned the sentence’s pitch mid-way through. Almost a month had passed since she’d landed in Fallon territory, and she’d been in and out of more science offices, clinics, hospitals, and laboratories than she would ever care to count, and this was her third visit to this particular complex. None of them had yet parsed through precisely what Seirlin Biocorp had done to her.
So, when a junior researcher with an inner-metro flare of green cutting across his hair in the style of a lightning bolt waltzed up to her—not even giving her time to shake the rain from her hands and sleeves—and informed her that he’d figured out how her powers worked, her mind ran a little skeptical.
She, and others like her, were unique among the human spectrum. They were carriers of special abilities—she with her ability to make and control light, her sister with her preternatural gifts toward violence, and others with considerably different aptitudes; the result of an odd biomedical project that had been granted a shitload of unrestricted funding, pushed by an impossible idea, and left to run amok for more than half a century in Old Earth’s unenforced or deregulated zones. They had been constructed as chimeric embryos of mixed DNA, soaked in some weird, archaic concoction of incubating chemicals for their development, then bottle-fed a mix of brainwashing and varying chemical and hormonal treatments until they either died from the stress or reached adulthood.
