Sonya opted for a smile this time. “I’m as all right as I can be. And to get back to your worry…never at any time did I feel you did this deliberately. I’m proud to be your friend.
“Before this turns blubbery, I do have to say I’ve taken the liberty of booking you into a suite at the Seattle Grand Hilton. In the end, you don’t want your home known to these two stalwart champions of your safety, and I don’t know how this will play out with the rest of the team, so you will need their protection.”
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you. Despite everything said, you’ve given us hope that we’ll win, despite everything. May I exact a promise?”
“You have but to ask.”
“Even if this goes badly and our team breaks up, please start another group to finish what we’re so near to accomplishing.”
Tony sat quietly for nearly a minute. “I won’t let your dreams die…any of them.”
* * *
The holes still dotted the walls, but an enterprising person had cleaned up the broken debris. Tony perched on a director’s chair and mopped Suet’s jade-colored forehead with a cold cloth. The artificial skin still needed to perform all the normal functions of what it replaced. Sweating profusely, her body desperately tried to lower its core temperature. Even from his chair he could feel waves of heat roiling off her, like a space heater accidentally left on maximum.
Her tentacles and legs twitched feebly as they tested the Kevlar straps like an outclassed boxer who refused to throw in the towel. She regularly moaned nonsense words in her delirium.
On previous visits, Tony had brought Cin with him. She spent the time circling Suet’s head, licking the overheated ears and head-butting Suet’s tentacles. When tired of this, Cin would lie between Tony and the patient, showing concern with a constant purr. He thankfully didn’t have the help of his furry friend on this impromptu trip.
After sixteen hours this session, Tony formed a system that made the chore of tending Suet somewhat mindless. Soak the washrag in ice water and mop her brow and hair. Repeat three times. Soak again and wipe down her entire body: her face, each tentacle (taking care around the glucose/saline IV), each leg, and her torso. Rinse the washrag and do the groin. Rinse again before each armpit. Finally, take the other iced washcloth and run it over her cracked lips, making sure to squeeze a little moisture into her mouth.
Repeat. Once every tenth repetition he’d loosen one of her restraints and wipe under there as well. Tuan, the second bodyguard provided to him by Sonya, proved useful here by holding that limb down until Tony retightened it. This seemed to be the bodyguards’ sole usefulness. One would relieve the other every twelve hours. They never spoke except in whispers to one another.
At one point Tony asked to try the tub, but the pair of them couldn’t control her enough to keep her from hurting herself or them, so she remained in bed, a prisoner of her own failing body and some low-tech bondage.
Most of the time Tony thought of his promises to Sonya. Of course she could be wrong. She may not die, he thought optimistically. A little voice in his head warned him he might as well wish for the moon to be green cheese.
He couldn’t break out of the circularity of his thoughts, matching the repetitions of his bedside ministrations. “How can I possibly keep this promise? There are too many unknowns. How many would live through this thing?” he said, pointing at his friend bathed in her own sweat. “How many of those would feel that being shot is too good for me? How does one go about starting a guerilla organization from scratch?”
Four repetitions later Tony finally kicked his mind. “Break it down, Nil. The best choice would be for me to take over the current organization. Our action group is being decimated, but the support organizations will remain intact. To do this I would have to, at minimum, prove I had no knowledge or complicity in this. As Linc would say, ‘I smell a lot of footwork.’”
The nurse, Susan, came in to check the IV and to take vitals. She shook her head at what she got from the body beneath her.
“Thank you for letting me help,” Tony offered, just glad to talk to someone who’d talk back.
“I feel kinda silly just sitting here when you’re the one doing all the work,” she replied.
“Oh, I doubt she even knows I’m here.”
“Not true. Her reactions and restlessness are far worse when you aren’t here.”
“Really? I guess I’ll have to take your word for it. It does make me feel better.” Tony paused. “Does she have any chance?”
Susan lowered her head and turned away.
* * *
“But why should we even vote? How can he lead us when he’s the source of the disease?” asked Andrea, the spokesperson. The small congregation sprawled uncomfortably on the floor while the cats imperiously controlled the couch. The Pomeranian yipped at anyone other than Sonya speaking or anyone with the temerity to move more than an eyelash—that is to say, almost constantly. The Chihuahua walked amongst the four visitors looking for attention. Frances petted it absently. Only Christine seemed more interested in the animals than the conversation.
Sonya heard sound come out of her throat as a croak rather than words. She soothed her broken voice with a careful sip of water. It burned like alcohol on an open canker sore as it went down.
“If I could, I would insist. He did nothing wrong.” Sonya forced herself through each painful word. So many things going wrong with her body all at once. Not much more time to put things right.
“We don’t know that and can’t prove that,” Jackson interjected.
“Look, I know I can’t force you to do anything after I die, so doing anything other than trying to persuade you would be foolish. It would be equally foolish to let you destroy our team.”
“We aren’t trying to do that.”
“Whether you’re trying or not, that’ll be the end result. You will drive out Tony. Those who believe you’re acting hastily and without proof will rally to him. He won’t have enough to create decisive actions, and you’ll be left with the empty shell that was the GAM.”
“But we can’t vote him to the leadership,” Andrea said, crossing her arms and scowling. “He could be working for them. Hell, we know he worked for them, wittingly or not. I don’t know which is worse.”
Sonya knew better than to reach out to Andrea, the most stubborn and set in her hatred of Tony. Once her mind formed on a course, nothing could get it off except a very painful lesson. But the others…if she might sway even one, it was worth the effort. Sonya took another swig of liquid fire.
“I don’t think we’ll solve this here. The proper place is to debate it and vote.”
“We have been debating, but we—”
“No, Andrea,” Frances interjected, calmly but firmly. “We haven’t been debating, but rather heterodyning off one another’s fears. Sonya’s right in her form. I’m not sure if she’s right about Tony.”
“Thank you, Frances. I won’t live to know if I’m right or not, but I believe it here,” she said, thumping her chest. Mistake. She knew at once as the coughing began. Despite the body-doubling whoops, she caught the horror in Jackson’s eyes.
“Afraid?” she choked out as soon as she could manage.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve been having muscle aches and really bad headaches that over-the-counter meds do nothing for.”
“I sympathize. Talk to Linc. He may be able to help you with the pain and the fear. To my surprise, our friendly bartender is quite knowledgeable in many of the religious areas—an oddity considering his previous line of work. I’ve already made my peace with this life. You might want to investigate yours.”
Jackson looked possibly even more frightened that he did before. The drain on Sonya left her unable to comfort him any further.
“I’m sorry,” she went on, “but I’m going to have to ask you all to leave. First, though, let me give you just one more thought.”
“What’s t
hat?”
“How often have I been wrong…?”
* * *
A line of corpie couples stretched back and forth through a velvet rope maze, waiting for the venue to open. Their outfits would’ve gotten them arrested in most restaurants or on public transportation, but here at ground level in the club district their sensuality and erotic nature fit in with the rest of their kind.
Tony focused on one couple, trying to remember life in those confines. The man dressed only in maroon see-through tights and a purple dinner jacket. His companion wore nothing but a pair of iridescent panties, matching heels and a 30 centimeter diamond chain dangling from each of her oversized nipples that swayed and bobbed with the tiniest of her movements.
Tony listened in but couldn’t make heads nor tails of their conversation. Somewhere over the last few weeks, he’d lost the ability to speak and communicate with corpies. He couldn’t decide if he should be happy or sad. Before he could make up his mind, the reason for his visit exited the door.
The massive arms reflected the glaring light of the dying rose solido high overhead. As his usual practice, the doorman-cum-bouncer looked over the crowd to get an idea of the patrons before he invited any in. As usual he’d ban any troublemakers before they nerfed the guests’ evening of fun and the club’s profits.
“Hello, Mr. Tony,” Jock said without turning as Tony walked up behind him.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what, sir?”
“I believe it’s called situational awareness. You knew I was coming up behind you even though your attention is focused on the crowd.”
“I always could. Wouldn’t be good at my job if I couldn’t. Canya, take over for me, I’m going to break for just a few before we open.”
“Yar.”
“Oh, and watch the Brazilian couple in the third rank. He usually carries a molecular blade in his boot.”
Jock turned and walked over with Tony to sit down on a planter sporting a trio of artificial arborvitae. “Oh,” he added with a grin, “I also have rear-facing visual prosthesis. Saved my life more than once. I have it programmed to ignore things unless something approaches on a near-collision course.”
“Interesting. Maybe I should think about more prostheses.”
“I wouldn’t, sir. If I had to do it all over again, I probably wouldn’t have made the modifications to my body.”
“I never would’ve taken you for a naturalist.”
“I’m not. I don’t see any problem with cybernetics or implants where necessary, but augmentation? Naw. But that was then, this is now. You didn’t come here to talk about implants, sir. I still can’t let you into the club. Miss Carmine has that wrapped up tighter than a Martian kohlrabi in winter.”
“No. I wouldn’t want you in trouble. Besides, it’s not my scene anymore, Jock.”
“OK, then why?”
“It was something you said last time we met.”
“Uh-oh, I don’t have the greatest memory.”
“Not to worry. I only wanted to know about Carmine.”
“Mmm. I’m not supposed to talk about our customers, but seeing as you’re going to be the head of the GAM…”
“Where did you hear that?”
“Oh, c’mon, man…er, I mean, sir. It’s on all the wires. Pick any toast and you can read about it.”
“All over the web?”
“Just about every single one.”
“OK. Well then, let’s see what it gets me.”
“OK. Carmine is grinding money. Everyone’s toadying up to that coupon and she’s loving it.”
“How much money?”
“At least five, maybe six.”
“Tens of thousands, maybe hundreds? Wow. I know she doesn’t or didn’t have that much.”
“And that doesn’t count the five she paid off Tito to keep you out of here. And it ain’t run out yet. She comes here with an entourage and Tito can’t wait to sell her and her ‘friends’ overpriced drinks and other goodies. Her tab on a typical night is four.”
“You know if she’s still living in the same place?”
“Don’t know, sir, but I can find out.”
“Please do,” Tony said pulling out a roll of bills.
“Sir, I ain’t your doer. I’ll do it for you, but don’t insult me with money.”
Tony nodded, understanding he had more of a friend in Jock than he ever thought. “If I wanted money, I would’ve capped you before the price on Greenie heads disappeared.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah, just after you dropped out, the corporate bounty on known Greenie heads just evaporated. It had been sizable, in the high fives. Now it just doesn’t exist. Hey, Canya’s waving me over. They must be about to open the doors. I should get back.”
“Thanks, Jock. Here’s a way to contact me with Carmine’s address and anything else you can think of.”
Measure Performance—Phase Two
Nanogate noted with dismay the smooth, confident way that Taste Dynamics strutted into the meeting, just a few seconds late. Days like these he missed the cool confidence and skills of Mr. Marks. Taste Dynamics wouldn’t be so smug if he released Mr. Marks correctly.
“My apologies for my tardiness,” Taste Dynamics announced. “I needed last minute data to report.”
“Don’t let it happen again,” Wintel reprimanded. “Now let’s get started.”
As part of his personal training, Nanogate long ago cured himself of fidgeting in boring meetings, but the patience behind the calm façade he never managed to cultivate. The meeting dragged into two full hours of routine matters—forcing legislation change of employee taxes in the US, lowering the basis on EU coinage, raising the mortgage rates on Io and a planned strike on the Ceres mining colony. Nanogate took no notes. He barely noticed.
“Now to the action against the Greenies. Taste Dynamics, you have the floor.”
“Since our last meeting, there have been no actions against the assets of Taste Dynamics. I spent the extra few moments before the meeting to double-check my data. It’s confirmed that in the last week we haven’t had a single act of sabotage or assassination attributed to the GAM throughout the entire corporate network.”
“That is exceptional news,” Nanogate mouthed mechanically.
“Yes. I believe we should continue our higher meeting frequency for another month to be sure this danger has passed.”
“Agreed. Any opposed?”
“Before we move on to another topic, I want to announce an added bonus.” Taste Dynamics all but twittered with excitement. “As we know the unique RNA sequence of the disease, we’ve kept a covert surveillance on all of our internal nets and as many external nets as we could. It paid off in a big way. We located a doctor doing work for the GAM. Through him we can squeeze whatever remains of their organization.”
“Excellent work. The eighty percent solution we originally proposed may end up being one hundred percent.”
* * *
“Body Removal. I’m not getting your video.”
“That’s because I’m not transmitting, Adriana. This is…”
“I recognize the voice, Tony Sammis.” The liquid nitrogen in her voice came through clearly. “You have no further business with this condominium organization unless you wish to pay the balance of your forced sale. I believe the amount is…”
“That’s not why I called.”
“Then this conversation is ended.” She hit the cutoff button.
“But I’m not done,” Tony said, sliding up behind the fat black woman in her closet-sized office. Shifting her weight in surprise caused the chair to creak. “I wouldn’t turn if I were you,” he added, putting the tiny machine pistol against the rolls of fat where the back of her neck belonged. “Just keep facing the screen.”
“How did you…”
“Get in? Come now. I feel hurt. I’ve been defeating the deadly in-depth defenses of corps lately. You don’t think I can break into the security office of a condo co
mplex?”
“You’re a Greenie?”
Tony remembered something out of an ancient flatie. “Smile when you say that.”
“Huh?”
“Never mind.”
“You know I c-can’t give you back your condo,” she stammered desperately. “I don’t have any c-cash and…”
“Oh, fark, Adriana, I don’t want any of that. I just need the answers to some questions.”
“Ask away,” she said with an overabundance of nervous cheerfulness. “I’ll answer anything you want. I don’t have a death wish, and you do have the upper hand.”
“Oh, by the way, if you’re waiting for the fast response from the emergency signal you sent out, I’m afraid I’ll have to disappoint you.” Tony watched the huge expanse of her shoulders slump in resignation. “I’ve layered your office with an old-fashioned Faraday cage—a metal lattice that blocks all signals.
“Now, I really don’t want to hurt you. I really only want you to answer questions. If you play your cards right, no one will ever even know you answered them.”
“OK, what do you want to know?” she conceded in a much more surly tone.
“Who put the nab on my flat?”
“Miss Carmine.”
“You wouldn’t do it just on her say-so.”
“No. She came in with some corp bodyguard…”
“’Bout 130 centimeters, white, whipcord muscles, and wearing only yellow liquid latex?”
“That’s the vaper. Anyway, she handed me a notice of lawsuit against you.”
“C’mon, Adriana. We both know that wouldn’t have quite done it either. What tipped the scales?”
“A rather nice roll of bills and the threat of a vape against me.”
“That would do it. I know how difficult a price on your head makes life. OK, I think that’s all I need. By the way, just how much do I supposedly owe the association?”
“Giving bad news to a man with a gun isnnnnnt…” Because of the bulk, her head barely tilted. The contact agent on the muzzle of his gun should keep someone of her bulk out for no more than five minutes. Tony didn’t waste a second, slipping out through the hole he’d cut in the water closet wall. His own bodyguard stood patiently in the hall waiting for him and fell in behind Tony as he walked.
An Eighty Percent Solution (CorpGov) Page 23
