I kept moving. What was the worst thing that could happen? I could die? That didn't scare me. I felt dead already. Shit, dying would be a damn relief. Niki had been right about that.
I made it to the top and leaned my back against the ship's hull, its sweat soaking into my shirt. Cold metal chilled my spine. I looked back at Maggie. She rubbed her free hand across the hull, then ran her fingers through a couple stray locks of hair, wetting them down to keep them out of her face. She looked at me with determined eyes—nothing but confidence in that woman.
We gave each other a nod, and I ran onto the deck. I went down a second later with a pain so sharp shooting through my shin that I thought I'd been shot, but the sound didn't match. It wasn't a crackle that I'd heard; it was more of a clang. I couldn't see shit, it was so dark.
“You okay, Juno?” Maggie whispered.
I put my piece down and rubbed my hand over my shin. I didn't feel anything sticky. I didn't smell burnt meat. My shin was screaming just the same. “Yeah, I just smacked into something.” I could just barely see the outline of one poorly placed pipe.
Somebody was coming. Not running, just walking. He was coming to check on the noise, alone. I picked my piece back up. I looked in the direction of the footsteps. I strained to pick up some movement in the black shadows. He was close, but I couldn't see. I suddenly realized he was above us, on the upper deck. His footsteps passed directly overhead. They went a ways farther, and then I could tell by the sound that he was coming down a set of stairs. I still couldn't see him, but he was so close.
I aimed my broad-beam in the direction of the footsteps, ready to squeeze off a burst the instant I made eye contact. He wouldn't see us until it was too late, and I wasn't going to wait to find out who it was. Whoever he was, he was going to burn.
Then Maggie called, “Freeze.”
A beam of light blinded me as it fried over my head. My hair curled and crinkled from the heat as the beam scorched across the deck. I went flat while another beam sizzled out of Maggie's piece, targeting the source of the light. Her beam went long, stretching out into the night. She swept it to the right and it shortened down as she made contact, a flash of steam kicking up. And then there was nothing.
I got up and hobbled over to the site. Maggie had my back. She stayed a couple paces behind me and approached with her piece leveled. The BBQ odor would've smelled good if you didn't know what it was. I tucked my piece under my arm and pulled my penlight. I flicked it into life and waved it over the corpse, casting enough light to ID him. Detective Hoshi Reyes. The dumbass had panicked, firing in the direction of Maggie's voice, giving away his position. It's a lot easier to target with your eyes than your ears.
His chest was split open, smoke drifting up out of the wound. His right arm was almost severed. I tried to pull his weapon out of his right hand, but his finger got caught in the trigger guard, and I almost pulled his arm the rest of the way off. I twisted the lase-pistol free and tossed it over the rail.
We startled at a sound, a clank of metal on metal echoing across the deck. Maggie and I froze, our ears tuned to coming footsteps, but there were none to be heard. The clank sounded far away, near the bow. I whispered, “I think we surprised Hoshi. I don't think he had time to call the others.”
“Alerted or not, they'll miss him soon.”
With that we moved on. We found the staircase that Hoshi had used and climbed it to the upper deck. It was easier to see up here, city lights illuminating the low-hanging clouds. We made for the bow, toward the clank. I scanned left to right as I walked. Debris crunched under my feet, broken glass and lizard eggshells. Then the deck turned soft as we crossed a mat of moss near the bow.
We found a staircase that led down into the ship's interior. I took the stairs slow, wondering why my heart was pounding so loudly in my ears. I was okay with dying, wasn't I?
The hatch was closed partway. I swung the heavy metal to the side, careful not to let it clang into the wall. We slinked through, and then Maggie let the hatch swing back to its partly open state. The corridor was lit with neon green lightsticks that had been dropped on the floor. We followed the lights, weapons raised. Sweat stung my eyes. I walked softly, like I was on a sheet of thin ice that could break any second. My right hand was shaking out of control, and my left hand wasn't doing much better. There were geckos all over the walls. I could picture them eating through my stomach, with their miniteeth, their lizard lips smeared with my blood, their stomachs full of my flesh. … Visions of being flayed alive—some offworlder leaning over me, beaming the most perfect smile while he peels me, pulling the skin off in long sheets—sent shivers up and down my body.
We took another set of steps down. The air was stale and rotten. I was only a second away from running away screaming, but I kept moving, the two of us stepping through bulkhead after bulkhead. Peeled paint flakes littered the rusty floor like confetti. Water dripped from the pipes over our heads. We could see the end to the lightsticks. There were three of them on the floor outside a hatch on the right. Yellow light poured through the hatchway, out into the corridor.
There were voices, more than two, but I couldn't tell how many. They were men's voices. If they were offworlders, they'd be detecting us by now, our weapons kicking off an electromagnetic field. I was primed for a firefight, but nobody came storming out. Maybe the metal walls were interfering. Or maybe they thought it was just Ian and Hoshi coming. Maggie and I kept approaching, the voices getting louder. They were enjoying themselves. There was joking. There was laughter.
We reached the last bulkhead, Maggie and I on either side. Our eyes met. Hers were grim. “Just because we don't hear her doesn't mean she's not in there,” she said under her breath.
I nodded and switched weapons, taking one of her lase-pistols. Going in with a broad-beam wouldn't allow much selectivity in targets. I looked at Maggie and nodded my readiness. We didn't stand much chance, but one way or the other, at least it would be quick. She held up three fingers, ready for a countdown, but lowered her hand when somebody came out. He saw us straightaway and froze in front of the hatchway. Maggie already had a bead on him, and he knew it, his eyes popping. I grinned at him and waved my piece, telling him to come closer.
Yuri Kiper took one last look in through the hatchway, checking to see if anybody would come to his rescue, but they hadn't noticed, their rolling laughter ricocheting down the corridor. Yuri came with his head hung low, like a dog getting in trouble for making a mess on the floor. He was carrying a tripod and three separate bags of equipment.
Maggie kept her piece steady on his chest. She made the shush sign with her free index finger as she whispered, “Who's in there?”
“Offworlders,” he whispered back.
“How many?”
“Six.”
“Anybody else?”
“Hoshi's around here somewhere. Ian and Horst already left.”
“The girl?”
“She's dead.”
Maggie twitched. It was almost imperceptible, but it was there, a little wrinkling of the eyes, a little ripple through her body as her worst fear came true. Me, I don't know if my face changed or not, but I felt what little hope I'd had of saving her blow out of me like I was a popped balloon. We were too goddamned late.
Maggie kept to the task at hand—no time to mourn. “What are they doing in there?” she asked.
“They're having a toast before it's time to clear out.”
I turned my eyes back on the hatchway. I didn't want to know what they did to her, but I couldn't keep myself from imagining it. I remembered the way I'd grilled her. I was so harsh, a real brute, a total son of a bitch. Damn it to hell! She was innocent.
I was ready to do some damage.
I turned to Yuri. “Where are the gene eaters?”
Yuri used his double chin to point at his shirt pocket.
I tucked my weapon away and pulled the little cannister from his pocket. It was no bigger than an inhaler. I pulled the safety sea
l off the aerosol head. “What's the delay?”
“Sixty seconds.”
I checked my watch and pushed the head down, then twisted it into a locked position. Maggie gave me a disapproving look.
“Close me in if you have to,” I told her as I stepped through the bulkhead. She knew better than to try and stop me.
I moved up on the hatchway, my left hand clutching the gene eaters in a cramp-inducing grip. I was tempted to throw it blind, but decided it was worth a peek first so I wouldn't end up tossing it within any of their reaches. I didn't want one of them disarming it before it let loose on the fuckers. I checked my watch again. Maggie had Yuri on the floor, one wrist cuffed to a pipe running along the floor. She was ready to slam her hatch shut at the first sign of gene eaters in the corridor.
I checked my watch. They were having a grand time in there, sounding like a bunch of businessmen three drinks into an office party, or maybe a group of old school buddies yukking it up over a string of remember-whens. I watched the seconds tick by. It was time. I wheeled into the hatchway. I was only there for a second, but I saw a lot in that second. It was a large cabin, maybe a mess hall. Whatever it was, it was large enough to justify a hatch instead of a flimsy wooden door. They were seated at one end of a long table, tall glasses of brandy all around. They were wearing hooded robes, the hoods folded down onto their backs. I recognized the four from the hotel restaurant. They wore puzzled smiles, not sure who I was and whether or not I was a threat.
I threw a grounder into the farthest corner. I swung the hatch shut just as I saw the fogger begin to kick up a cloudy mist. The hatch slammed shut with such force that my hand stung from the vibration. I flipped the latch, but there was no lock. I shoved my back against the hatch, using my legs to push against the opposite wall. I was barely into position when the latch popped back open. They were screaming now, pushing on the hatch. I pushed back with all the strength in my legs, pressing myself into the hatch so hard that I couldn't breathe. The latch snapped back into place, but I didn't let up. I pushed with everything I had. My legs burned, and so did my lungs, and so did my eyes, which were filling up with sweat. They had the strength to overpower me. They were offworlders, for chrissakes. They were all genetically enhanced athletes with glands-on-demand that could serve up superhuman cocktails of adrenaline and endorphins in an instant. …
But I had position. I had a wall to push against while they didn't have anything but a damp floor to anchor their feet on. That, and the hatch wasn't very large, too small for all six of them to find a purchase. And then there was the fact that I didn't have gene eaters gnawing at my flesh, digging into my lungs, converting my eyes into jelly.
The latched popped, and there was a sustained push. My legs felt ready to buckle. It wouldn't take much, just the slightest opening would be enough to let the gene eaters out. Maggie showed up next to me. If I'd had any energy to spare, I would've yelled at her to go away. She quickly got into position, pushing with her arms, using the opposite wall to brace her feet.
I thought that I could hear them wheezing as their lungs lost their form. I thought I could hear them scratching at the walls, digging with fingernails that peeled off on the bare metal. I thought I heard a lot of things that I couldn't have possibly heard.
I thought I heard silence. I let up just a tad, just as a test, but as soon as I did, I knew I was done. I slumped over onto the floor, my lungs bursting. Maggie held firm for a few extra seconds, and then she gave in, too.
The corridor began to dim as some of the lightsticks began to peter out. I felt the weight of six more bodies being added to my name. Screw it. I wasn't going to let myself worry about those sadistic bastards. They weren't human. They were trash. Trash with wives who loved them, trash with kids … Stop it. I quashed that train of thought before it went off the tracks. They killed Adela. Fuck 'em.
My heaving lungs gradually synced with the soft rocking of the ship. Maggie was standing next to me, waiting on me, the old man. I stood up, a little too quickly. I had to brace myself by leaning on the wall. I followed Maggie back to Yuri on rubber legs.
He was a weeping mess, his cheeks streaked with running tears. He was on the floor, his wrist cuffs looped around a water pipe. He pulled his hands up as far as they could go, tilting the cuffs' keypads up as if Maggie was going to let him go. “Thank you for rescuing me,” he said.
Maggie frowned at him. “Save it.”
“They s-said they'd k-kill me if I didn't do what they s-said.”
“I said save it. I'm not in the mood for bullshit.”
“I'm s-sorry,” he sobbed like a nasal two-year-old.
Maggie's lips were pinched tight. They parted just wide enough for her speak through her teeth. “Why today, dammit?” she asked. “Her execution wasn't supposed to be until tomorrow.”
“I'm so s-sorry. Please believe m-me,” he said, his voice trailing into wracking sobs.
“Answer me.”
“It was o-one of the offworlders. S-something came up at his work, and he h-had to leave planet early, so Horst m-moved it up a day.”
“We were supposed to have one more day.” Maggie's stony face began to fracture. Her anger crumbled away, and her eyes misted over. “We were supposed to have one more day.”
I looked at Yuri, and I looked at Maggie, both of them crying, and I suddenly realized that it should've been me who was crying. I was the one who'd just lost his wife. I felt emotions beginning to gush up from my gut. I stomped them back down with an enforcer's cruel efficiency. “Where did Ian and Horst go?”
“Horst h-had a dinner to go to, and Ian c-carried the body out. Ian had to bring it b-back to the Z-zoo.”
Already, Adela was an “it.” “How long ago?”
“I don't know. M-maybe fifteen minutes.”
“What about the rest of Ian's crew? Where are they?”
“Looking for you two.”
“Let's go,” I said to Maggie.
twenty-eight
I STOPPED Maggie when we made it back down to the pier. “I'm going after Ian alone,” I told her.
“The hell you are.”
“C'mon, Maggie, you know what has to be done.”
“We're going to arrest him, Juno. We'll get the cameraman's testimony. We'll organize a raid of the Zoo, pick up the guards. They'll talk, and we'll find Adela's body.”
No. We weren't going to do that at all. If that was what we were going to do, Maggie would be on the phone already, briefing her superiors and securing warrants. She knew as well as I did what I was going to do, what I had to do.
I was going to kill him. I was going to hustle down to the Zoo and catch him on his way back out from dropping off Adela's body. I was going to hide in the weeds and gun him down. I was going to murder Detective Ian Davies.
“There has to be another way,” she said.
There wasn't. She couldn't arrest him. Not if she wanted to be chief. She'd be the cop who arrested another cop. It didn't matter that Ian was dirty. The whole force was corrupt. KOP was rotten to the core. Just about all of them were on the take in one form or another. She'd be a threat to the brass. They'd never bring her into their inner circle. They'd be afraid that she might start arresting them once she became privy to their secrets. Her career would be over. But, they wouldn't fire her. She had too high a profile for anything that overt. Instead, they'd neuter her by banishing her to the records department, or maybe they'd put her on river patrol, or they might even give her a position in PR, make her go out to the schools and put on little skits for the juvies. Or if they felt really threatened, they'd arrange for her to die, probably in a “bust gone wrong.”
Killing him was the only way to make him pay, and she knew it. Her conscience was just making its last stand.
I wrapped my arms around her. I didn't know why. I just did. She succumbed to the hug, squeezing me back, our bond growing as tight as any true father-daughter bond. With Maggie, there was a chance. A chance that she could actually chan
ge things. Chief Paul Chang was a great man, and I'd loved him like a brother. He'd had ideals once, too. He wanted to change things. You couldn't live on this backwater planet and not want to change things. But he'd had to put those ideals on hold in order to get ahead. We both did. First we had to seize control. Only then would we have the power to go about instituting change. It took us fifteen years to get there. Fifteen years of bribes and frame jobs. Fifteen years of beatdowns and executions. We were the most ruthless sons of bitches you ever saw. You got a nasty habit? We cut off your supply. You got a pretty face? We knock out your teeth. You got a gambling problem? We buy out your debt and become your new loan sharks. You're a fag? We out you. You're having an affair? We film you. You're a fucking saint? Well, then we just plant shit on you.
Fifteen years.
By the time we got there, right and wrong had become faraway concepts, nothing more than unproven theories. Such things were only good for academic discussion. They had no place in the real world.
But with Maggie, it wasn't too late. She still had a heart. I had to protect her from the ugliness—the backstabbing, the violence, the perversion, the greed, all of it. I remembered the look on her face when she'd told me to dunk the zookeeper. That face wasn't her. She'd seen and done enough. I couldn't let her get corrupted any further. My soul was already damned. I could take the burden for her. She was family.
I'd be her guardian angel.
Or guardian devil.
She broke the hug. “I'm going with you,” she insisted.
“No. You can't be involved in this, not if you're going to be chief one day. From now on the dirty work is my job,” I said. “Let me handle it. I'll make the whole thing go away.”
She studied me from out of the shadows. “You're going to help me take over KOP?”
“I won't stop until you're chief.”
“It could take years, Juno.”
“I know. I'm in it for the long haul, okay? But right now, I need you to go back home. I'll call you.”
Ex-KOP Page 24
