by Jean Rabe
Great, the Aborigine had said her name. If the guard retained that…
“The Boxer, 1997, one hundred and thirteen minutes. Universal Studios. Strong sexuality, drugs, and violence, natch.”
She bobbed and weaved, ducked an awkward punch and delivered another straight right. The guard finally dropped; his jaw at an ugly angle. She’d probably broken it…and regretted it, too, as she’d been the trespasser. But she couldn’t let him take her into custody. Tommy Burns had been a swarmer, Jack Dempsey, Rocky Marciano, Cleegad Skamper, Vorgol the Fist. She almost mentioned “The Rock’s” name, but knew that would draw a list of ancient movies from Mordred; she’d seen the remake of Rocky XXI.
“Let’s go. This way.” Ninn reached down and snatched up the HP-49B with her right hand.
“Hey, me! Bring me out, Keebs!” Mordred sounded insulted. “Why you grabbing strange guns off the floor when you already got me?”
“Can’t leave him a weapon in case he comes to.” She grabbed Barega’s wrist with her left hand. “Move. We gotta move.”
Ninn had looked at the huge map on the wall when they’d entered the aquarium, and so she knew roughly where they were. A right at the end of corridor and out through double doors put them in the aquarium proper, near the Dugong Island exhibit. The lights were dim and the tanks dark, and she hadn’t expected that.
“What the—”
“Fish sleep, Keeb, if you turn off the lights and let them,” Mordred said. “Sleeping with the Fishes, 2013, Gina Rodriguez, Steven Strait, comedy.”
“Comedy? You reference a drekkin’ comedy? This isn’t funny.” Ninn had low-light vision in her natural eye and kicked in the thermographic vision in her cybereye, the combination dizzying at first, but she adjusted; the effect like looking at a split screen of the same image. Her pause allowed Barega to catch his breath. “All right, this way. This’ll swing us back and around past the Bay of Rays, through their café; I saw an exit there.”
“Run more.” This from Benzo. Ninn had forgotten that the collection of furniture pieces still tagged behind. “Run is fun fun fun good good good dog.”
“Yeah, run more,” Ninn said. If Barega wasn’t with her, she’d instead try to speed-stealth her way through the aquarium, lose any pursing guards, return to the access tunnel if she had to, and escape through an air duct. But the old man complicated things; he couldn’t keep up with her if she moved flat-out.
“So dark,” Barega said. “Can’t see anything, Ninn.”
Sucks to be human, eh? “Stay with me.” Her hand went from his wrist, and her fingers interlocked with his. “Just keep up with me. Try.”
He wasn’t as slow as she expected…human, no body modifications, old, but he was reasonably fit, and matched the relaxed pace she set, his bare feet making a soft slap-slap in time with the clack-clack-clack of her fancy leather-soled sandals.
She turned the next corner and saw five men filling the corridor ahead, shoulder-to-shoulder, wearing goggles to compensate for the low-light. Three were human security guards armed with HPs—probably the entire security staff rounded up just for her. Two AISE officers were with them, Draye and a dwarf she’d not seen before. The dwarf had an Aphrodyte grenade launcher and was aiming it.
“Give it up,” Draye shouted. “Drop the gun and you can get out of here with a B and E.”
Breaking and entering? They’d tag her for more than that. If they took her in, a retina scan, fingerprints, swab, the spangly joygirl revealed as Nininiru Tossinn—alleged arsonist and murderer. Assault and battery for the poor guard she’d mauled in the hallway, certainly…but that was the least of her worries.
She aimed for the dwarf’s knees and fired a round, the HP so smooth the recoil was hardly noticeable. In that same instant, she shoved Barega behind her and down, then dropped herself as she swung the gun around and fired a spray at foot-level at the security guards, who had all taken aim. Didn’t want to kill them, shouldn’t, only doing their jobs. And if she got out of this…and if she proved her innocence for the building fire…they’d put her away for this firefight, maiming all these men.
“Lose-lose,” she said, as she swept the gun back and fired a second time, this time striking three of them. “Oops.”
Either the guards had expected the elf in a sparkly purple outfit to drop the gun as ordered, or they hadn’t counted on her shooting them. A third burst at knee level, and she hit all of them, except Draye—but she wasn’t aiming for him, a good cop who didn’t deserve injury. Hell, none of them deserved this. No padding on their legs, probably no armor, the guards had fallen and were hollering, one of them shouting into a comm to call for police and ambulances, had probably blown a few kneecaps all to hell.
Draye returned fire, but she was moving, shoving herself backwards, pushing Barega. “Move. Move. Move, old man!”
Draye was using a Colt Agent Special, a light pistol with a large caliber, known for inflicting a world of hurt, but also known for not being especially accurate.
Ninn was pleased it wasn’t especially accurate. The rounds struck one of the smaller tanks and spiderweb cracks sprouted. She scrambled to her feet and took off, not waiting to see if it actually punctured the glass. Benzo raced after her, fabric tongue lolling out of its mouth.
Barega was up now too, running faster, no longer needed her prodding. A glance over her shoulder showed he was headed toward the softly glowing exit sign—the only light in the corridor; it was probably the only thing he could see with his plain old human eyes.
Draye fired twice more, one grazing her arm, the other putting a hole in her raincoat. His aim was getting better. She spun around, dropped to a knee and shot, noting that two of the security guards had recovered enough and were lying prone, weapons ready. One took a shot at the spirit dog. Benzo yipped, but kept running.
“Drop it, and you can still get out of this alive!” Draye shouted. In the background she saw that the dwarf was getting up—either she’d missed him, or he had some armor or dermal plating on his legs.
“Great. Why don’t you drop it?” she screamed back.
Mordred said something, but she ignored him as she shot at Draye again. She was only looking to wing him, but her aim was knocked off because at the same time she caught a bullet in her shoulder—the same one the Slayer had wounded, and that Dr. Tarr had repaired. Fire lanced through her, and she fought to keep hold of the gun.
“Pull me out, Keebs!”
“Can’t kill them, Mordred. Can’t. They’re doing their jobs.” She spun and ran flat out, praying that if they continued to shoot, they’d miss. She wove right, then left, hearing bullets ricochet off something, hearing one of the security guards holler: “Watch the tanks!”
Then she heard an odd noise, barely noticeable above the racket. A loud thunk, followed by a brief whistle, followed by a clank, then a hissing release of smoke.
“Frag it!”
The dwarf had fired the grenade launcher. You didn’t need a perfect aim with the launcher; you just needed to get in the general vicinity.
“Keebs, pull me out! Bam!”
“Run good good good dog.”
“They’re not villains in this, Mordred. Barega! Hold your br—”
Ninn watched the Aborigine fall, choking, grabbing at his chest. She’d not held her breath fast enough and had the sensation of twirling and being pulled down, felt her fingers stiffen and the HP drop, heard it clatter against the tile floor. Ninn had a fine trauma damper, a clump of receptors at the base of her thalamus that would trigger the release of endorphins and enkephalins to help keep her conscious. It had helped in Cadi’s basement when she fought the Slayer, but it wasn’t doing much here. Spin and twirl and down.
Down.
Down...
“Good good dog.”
“Keebs!”
The gas winnowed its way deep into her lungs. Almost comforting. Certainly relaxing. Neuro-stun, she knew, not that she’d been on the receiving end before, but she’d dished it out du
ring a Lone Star arms raid in the Loop.
“Crap…” was all she managed to get out before the tile floor reached up and smacked her.
Twenty
Slay Me
She heard every word, felt someone grab her wrists and pull—in the direction of the exit she’d been headed to. Good, maybe they’d toss her out by the bridge and be done with it. No, not bloody likely, she’d beaten and shot up the guards. B and E and assault and whatever else they might tack on. They’d discover she was Nininiru Tossin and add arson and murder to all that. She might qualify for the recently reinstated death penalty.
“A unit should be here in a few.” It was a gruff voice, probably the dwarf’s. Probably the dwarf’s thick, stubby fingers around her wrists. “Throw the goose and her old gander on a bus to Central? Think they need a hospital first?”
The tile felt cool and smooth against the backs of her legs, her raincoat swishing as she was dragged across it.
“The ambos are for the guards.” She recognized Draye’s voice. Saw him looming over her, the HP she’d dropped was in his right hand, his Colt stuffed in the waistband of his pants. He had something in his left hand. Cloth. The Aborigine slid by when Draye moved—he had a fistful of the old man’s tunic and pulled Barega. “The tunnel is for these two. We’re not putting them on a bus.”
“The tunnel? You daft? Aren’t we gonna arrest ’em? Do this one by the book, dontcha think? Throw the book at ’em. Waller’s already looking at us cross-eyed.”
She’d told Mordred she couldn’t shoot to kill because they were doing their jobs, that they weren’t the villains in this.
“That joygirl? Saw her earlier today,” Draye replied. “She was eavesdropping on me. Don’t know her name or her game, maybe an undercover cop. Can’t take a chance. And she was digging through electronic files. Definitely can’t take the chance. Mr. Siland doesn’t want any mention of his aquarium in our reports. So this one’s off the book. Waller ain’t gonna find out.”
They were sounding like villains.
“But the aquarium was in the news when them guards was geeked—”
“That was weeks ago, an accident, and it was ’cause Eli didn’t know any better. He was only supposed to take the one that night. Weeks ago. Old news. And Siland doesn’t want any new news. Understand? He’s made that very clear.”
“Crystal.”
Sounding a lot like villains. Siland. Great, Ninn thought. Taking her to a tunnel? She’d find a way out of it. It was fortunate they weren’t going to take her to Central. The neuro-stun would wear off soon.
“So why the tunnel, mate?”
“Because I called Max, and he said to take her there.”
“What about the security back there? They ain’t geeked. They’re breathing. Aren’t they gonna ask questions? Aren’t they gonna—”
“We’re AISE,” Draye cut back sharply. “They’ll believe whatever we say…the sheila and her handler got tossed in jail all nice and tidy and forgotten…the sheila and her handler made a break for it and got away…the sheila and her handler are dead. We fried the goose and her gander. Yeah, I like that one the best. The guards don’t know it was only a neuro grenade you lobbed. We’ll say it was a frag. They’ll believe what we say. And I’ll do the talking. ’Sides, they’ll be too busy licking their wounds to care about what happens to these two. Siland says just take these two to the tunnel, and I say shut your gob about it and do it, or Siland’ll say put you in the tunnel, too. Now pick it up. Get them little legs moving.”
“Good with me,” the dwarf snorted. “I hate filling out reports anyway. But I’m just sayin’ somebody might ask questions.”
Yeah, me, Ninn thought. If I could just move my mouth, I’d be asking a ton of them. So obviously Draye wasn’t quite as good a cop as she’d thought…he was on Siland’s nuyen. That wasn’t unusual, a cop on someone else’s payroll. A little funding on the side.
“Keebs. Get up, Keebs. Do something.”
She still couldn’t move her lips and so couldn’t answer Mordred. Eyes locked open, she couldn’t even blink. At least they hadn’t taken Mordred. But folded, they hadn’t spotted him in her pocket. The AISE thugs didn’t know she still had a weapon, thought the HP was the only thing she’d had.
“This ain’t gonna end well if you don’t do something, Keebs.” The gun was honestly worried, Ninn realized, as he wasn’t referencing ancient movie titles.
She was a little worried, too.
Draye was somewhere ahead with Barega, she heard the steady click of his heels and a hushing sound the Aborigine was making against the floor. The dwarf huffed, like it was an effort to walk so fast; he was falling behind, and he tightened the grip on her wrists. Ninn concentrated, trying to move her fingers. If she could shake the neuro-stun toxin, she could take out the dwarf, and then go for Draye. She would shoot to kill this time. Should have when she’d had the opportunity before. Should’ve listened to her gun.
The dwarf took a sudden left turn, a door banged open. She heard a mix of sirens—ambulances and at least one squad car.
“Pick it up.” This from Draye, obviously meaning the dwarf should drag Ninn faster still.
Then another door banged open, this one whacking her feet as they passed through it and it swung closed. She was being pulled down a slope, the cool tile replaced with a synthetic surface that smelled of old things and cleanser, the back of her legs feeling occasional seams in the floor…they were going down the people-mover, the ramp that led to only one place—the Plexiglas tunnel that ran under the harbor. “The Shark Walk,” some called it.
That tunnel.
What the hell? Why take us there? A place to interrogate us? Away from the emergency crews coming to deal with the wounded guards? Certainly no reason for the EMTs to come down here…
Her stomach suddenly felt like a rock…they meant to release her into the harbor down here, let the sharks eat her and Barega, let her drown because she certainly couldn’t swim. Probably would have thrown her in up top were it not for the sirens. Was there a vent down in the tunnel? Flush her and the Aborigine out through it like garbage. Chum.
The lights were off in the tunnel; it was like she’d been dropped in a barrel of ink. Her natural eye’s low-light vision was useless, only helping if a little light was present—and there was none. Her cybereye, also useless, as the thermographic vision picked up heat sources, and everything within her limited range was the same temperature—save for the quick glimpse of the dwarf’s wide face when he peered over her.
Draye and the dwarf must have infrared in their goggles, something she should add to her cybereye when she got out of here. If she got out of here. If she didn’t end up as shark food. Focusing, she tried to blink, twitch.
Wala-lang.
Definitely a neuro-stun grenade, probably a VII because of the potency; even with her upped metabolism she couldn’t shake it.
“Do something, Keebs. Hey, Keebs, can you hear me? Come on, let’s plug these choobs.”
The dwarf dragged her a little farther. A muffled thump; Draye releasing Barega, she guessed. The dwarf released her, too. She saw his wide, hairy face again looming over her in thermographic vision.
“So now what?” the dwarf asked. He prodded her with his foot. “And what about that dog-thing?”
“Leave her,” Draye replied. “Leave that pile of scraps, the old man…all of ’em.” He’d been talking on his comm, but she hadn’t caught it, and realized she couldn’t mentally access her inscriber…any of her built-in tech. Must have been a tech dampener in the grenade, too. “I just called the boss again—”
“Again? Why are you botherin’ him to—”
“Yeah, again. He brought Eli over. The big guy’s on his way in.”
“Then I want to be on my way out, mate. I don’t want to be anywhere near him.”
If Ninn’s eyes could have, they would have widened. Boss, not lieutenant, or Waller or captain, or sergeant…not any of the terms a good lumper would
use. Boss. Draye was in all the way in Siland’s pocket. Shouldn’t’ve surprised her, really; even in the states, a lot of Lone Star officers had two masters, or three or four—the department, plus whoever slipped them money on the side. Just the way the world works. She’d been above that in Chicago…but then she’d not been on the force all that long, and had never been approached. Would she have jumped in someone’s pocket? Not all the way, but a side job here and there, sure.
Should’ve shot your ass, you son of a bitch, she silently fumed at Draye. Should’ve shot you first. Right to the forehead.
“So what’d the boss say? Why’s he bringing Eli? That’ll be a mess.” The dwarf was all the way in the pocket, too. Should’ve aimed for your face, shouldn’t’ve missed. Should have plugged both of you right between the eyes. The HP would’ve punched a hole in your skulls and let the few brains you have squirt out.
“Said Eli would take care of it, is all. But tidy this time.”
“Eli don’t know how to be tidy.”
Ninn blinked. That was something, a blink. She swallowed, her mouth feeling desert dry, tried to move her jaw…that wasn’t working yet, couldn’t flex her fingers, but some sensation was starting to come back.
Heard footsteps retreating, the dwarf chuckling, Mordred still chattering: “Keebs! Keebs!” They still hadn’t seen her gun. Probably thought there was no place to conceal anything in this skimpy outfit, hadn’t bothered to search her. Thank God they’d been sloppy. “Keebs! Keebs!”
But Mordred wouldn’t do her any good unless she could move her hands. Ninn thought she might have wiggled her toes. Couldn’t be sure. Couldn’t move her arms or legs yet, back flat on the floor, nothing but dark. Frag! Everything the same temperature. Can’t see. Frag frag frag! She needed to move move move!
She needed to get out of here and wring some answers out of the high-and-mighty Mr. “I own lots of things” Siland. In an office above Cadigal’s Corner he’d orchestrated…what? Something at the aquarium, definitely, something that involved the past death of the guards and the biologist, maybe had orchestrated Cadi’s death…and thereby maybe was involved with the Cross Slayer. Maybe orchestrated the Slayer himself. And if that was true, why had he said he’d reward her if she found the doer? To help keep her occupied and out on the street? Away from Cadigal’s building? Or maybe to doubly ensure that she stay focused on the slayings. Maybe something darker was involved.
