by JM Guillen
Still, the lacuna presented a nice option for Anya. As a Preceptor-class Asset, she couldn’t gear any other packets, so the ability to change what a target remembered came in handy.
Watching her track through Fukui’s memory engrams instant by instant, choosing which chemical markers should be scrubbed and which should remain, fascinated me. That was all memories were—differing specifications of chemistry. By being selective, Anya altered his entire experience.
I think that’s acceptable. Anya eyed Wyatt and me. Any suggestions?
So in his version of events, he hears a noise. He investigates, and he sees a shadowy figure standing over his voodoo statue. Wyatt’s link felt wry. He shoots. The statue shatters. The shadowy figure is gone, and he passes out.
He won’t ever remember your pretty face, I linked to the bearded man. Pity.
I think that’s perfect, princess. Wyatt smiled. If we’re lucky, he’ll believe his statue demon got out of control and he took care of business.
Anya nodded and allowed the thumb of her device to brush Fukui’s bare flesh. This injected him with the specialized viral mecha installed within the device. Those specialized VM didn’t require a Crown as most mecha did, fortunately for Mr. Fukui, and only had one task.
Chemical janitors.
Moments later, Mr. Fukui sprawled insensate on his floor while Wyatt rifled through his pockets like some kind of Facility-geared bandit.
Ha! Knew he’d have somethin’ fun. He caught my eye and held up what looked like a wadded up pair of white, women’s panties.
What? The ridiculousness of the situation made me gape. You’re not saying that he had—? I looked down at the sprawled man, trying to piece together the narrative of an executive employee who worked for an Irrational corporation, who worshipped some fell monstrosity in a statue, and also carried around with him—
Heh, I’m just joshin’ ya, Hoss. Those are mine.
Wait you’re saying—? I tilted my head as I looked at Wyatt, my eyes wider.
I just swiped his keycard. Wyatt held it up and twirled it around on its retractable string. We’ve got an all-access backstage pass now.
That looks handier than a pair of panties. I grinned. After you, Mr. VIP. I executed a gallant bow indicating the stairs.
Anya linked, Perhaps it would be wise if you went first, Michael. You can activate the Spectre packet and reconnoiter the hallway.
Lady’s got a point, Hoss. Why doncha see if those little snoops have run off yet?
Good idea. I started toward the stairs.
Anya stopped me before I got there.
She brushed my cheek with one fingertip, ever so gently. It came away smeared with red.
Blood?
You should task your mecha to take care of that, she advised.
I touched my cheek, examining the wound. It felt completely superficial.
But the blood. It sang crimson in my mind as I looked at it, like a symphony played in minor chords.
I scratched at my arm.
A shard must have nicked me when that statuette shattered, I reasoned. Just didn’t go Spectre fast enough. I smiled reassuringly at Anya. Don’t worry, it’s nothing. The mecha’ll have it cleaned up and any infection cleared out.
It’s too bad, really, Wyatt butted in.
Anya frowned in confusion. Surely you don’t want Michael to get an infection?
Naw, he sent. But if the mecha clear it up, it won’t scar.
Her frown deepened.
Chicks dig scars.
I sighed and headed for the door.
16
I’ve got point, I linked as I toggled Spectre and slipped through the door. Being not-quite invisible could come in handy for unauthorized persons sneaking along hallways.
Not that I knew any of those.
A quick glance to either side showed the way remained clear. For the moment, at least.
Swiftly, I toggled Spectre off and strode down the hall continuing our original path.
Clear, I sent back. I’ll keep point, but you two can come out of hiding.
Roger that.
I heard the door open a few meters behind me but paid no attention to it. I had just spotted another mercenary crew stalking in from an intersecting hallway. Immediately I toggled Spectre and aimed for the nearest doorway.
We may need to duck in here. I’ll check if it’s empty.
Copy that, Hoss.
Once through the door, subtle movement at my feet snagged my eye. Instantly I had my disruptor out and pointed at the arabesque pattern in the luxuriously thick carpet underfoot.
Nothing but shadows met my eyes.
Shadows that moved.
For a moment, I remembered the shadow from the statuette, and the nails clicking across the floor.
My eyes flicked around the room, taking in the dramatically lit half-pillars that jutted from the walls, the artful wire balls sitting on low filing cabinets, the immense marble table complete with inset screens, and the wall-length fish tank.
The fish.
Their shadows glided serenely over the carpet, thrown there by the bright light in their exotic aquarium.
Damn. I took a deep breath.
Clear, I sent to Anya and Wyatt. I’ve subdued the fish by my awesomeness.
Awesomeness? Hoss, that’s an Artisan peripheral. Wyatt strolled through the door and went straight to the table while Anya seemed taken with the immense tank.
He poked at the nearest upraised screen with one thick finger. A soothing blue glow immediately displayed and a tiny password prompt flashed inside a Sadhana logo.
I wandered over, fascinated. I still couldn’t find a keyboard. How did someone enter a password even if he had one?
“Heh. Whaddya bet the password is ‘Guest’?” Wyatt chortled.
I smiled and opened my mouth to reply just as the door opened again and a slip of a woman with artfully messy black hair and an armful of folders stepped in.
Wyatt and I froze instantly.
The young businesswoman had her head down, making it a few steps into the room before she noticed us. She stumbled to a halt, her dark eyes widening as her candy-pink lips parted in surprise.
“Ah,” she sighed, uncertainty written in her every line.
Wyatt grinned broadly at her. “Hiya, sweetheart. I believe we’ve got a two o’clock?”
She blinked at him and took a shaky step backward.
My telemetry slipped .56 points when that woman walked in. Anya’s sent in a cool wash of information.
I turned my head to glance over my shoulder at our Preceptor then linked, She’s an Irrat?
Anya nodded once.
You think she knows we’re Facility?
She’s about to, Wyatt commented. One hand dropped to his keyboard.
The woman looked wildly from our odd gear to Wyatt’s hand to Anya’s twitching fingers.
She screamed.
Papers and manila folders went flying as the secretary dropped her armload, spun on her far-too-high heels, and dashed from the room.
I looked to Wyatt. You have absolutely no game.
Who wants game with a ’Rat?
Hey, I’m not saying you’d follow through, but the woman ran screaming from the room after you said hello. I’d say that’s a tip-off that you need to brush up on basic social skills.
You’re one to talk. I found one of your home movies the other day.
To elaborate, Guthrie patched me a nasty little scene he must have found in the shadiest depths of the internet. In memory, I had to experience it in Technicolor. It involved a college-aged guy dressed as a pirate and the adventures he had with inflatable farm animals.
The uses that pirate came up with for craft supplies astonished me.
You carried that around, just so you could patch it to me while on dossier?
He smiled and stepped out the door.
So unprofessional. I followed, stepping on a folder labeled ‘Daisuke Ito’ as I went.
�
��[Help!] Mr. Hasan! [Intruders!] Guards! This way! Mr. Hasan!” The woman continued screaming in a dizzying mixture of English, Japanese, and Arabic.
Heads popped out of doorways like meerkats watching a car wreck.
Somehow, while discussing Wyatt’s game and pirates, things had become quite serious.
Hoss, I think it’s time to go. Wyatt stood in the middle of the hallway, the firing mechanism of the tangler almost appeared eager in his hand as he began to tap at his hip.
I can’t take you anywhere, can I? I sighed and unholstered my disruptor as I triggered the Adept. This could be messy. Alright, here’s the plan. I paused to gather my thoughts.
I have located Liaison Stone’s latent signal. Anya’s triumphant tone pulled me up short.
You have?
Correct. It is sixty-three meters east-southeast and one hundred fifty-two meters below our current position.
A blue indicator suddenly appeared in my vision. It led back in the direction we had come.
Well, shit.
Okay, I bit back on a sigh. It’s too late to subdue Ms. Unimpressed now. Let’s kick off a game of ‘Run Away from Sadhana’s Goons.’ At least we’ll be closer to Stone and closer to getting out of here.
Way to be positive, Hoss.
Thanks.
We ran.
Several uncounted minutes and meters later, we had jogged far past our break-in point. I had begun to hope that maybe we’d gotten away, when Wyatt linked, Got tails.
How many?
Four? More’n I want.
No alarms, not yet at least. I sent as we ran down yet another random hallway turn.
I believe they have set off a silent alarm, Michael. Radio traffic has increased eightfold.
That’d account for all the hounds on our trail. Wyatt panted. Silent alarm’d let Sadhana deal with their own problems without draggin’ the pokies in.
Pokies? Seriously?
Sure. Wyatt threw me a wink as he caught up to me. You know, the pigs, the fuzz, the po-po.
I stared at the smartest man I knew. Come on now, little guy, use your words.
Will I get a cookie?
I gave his shoulder a hard shove, and he laughed, running harder.
Skidding around a more than ninety-degree turn, I came face to face with an ornate, steel double door. I caught the curly, wrought iron handle and yanked, stopping all momentum.
“Dammit.” Locked tight.
Fortunately, a keypad had been installed right next to it.
Hey, genius! I linked. Come open this door. I think we can hide here a minute, maybe throw the hounds off our scent.
You checked for inhabitants yet? he replied reversing course.
It’s locked. I didn’t think anyone would be having a private meeting in a locked room, but since we’d found a freaking bedroom, perhaps I should check. I powered up the Spectre and stuck my face in.
Dark. Quiet.
I pulled back.
No one’s there.
Wyatt studied the keypad and jabbed a few buttons. A red light flashed at the top, and he nodded as if he expected it. He pushed some other keys.
Red light.
The footsteps that dogged us grew louder.
Running out of time here, I prompted.
Fine. Disgust threaded his tone, and he pulled the tangler around. I’m gonna have to make some noise. He jerked his head toward the stubborn keypad even as he typed in commands on his keyboard. Pad’ll take too long. Gotta cover our asses.
They’ll see your spike, Asset Guthrie, Anya reminded him.
Sure they’ll see ’em, princess. Don’t you worry, though, I’ll leave some souvenirs they won’t want to leave without.
She cocked her head.
WHUF, WHUF, WHUF.
Two of those are stasis fields. Stay over there. Wyatt had laid out three spikes along the intersection of the hallways. Then, he stepped back toward the keypad, his oculus already shimmering with numerics.
You said two stasis fields? What about that third spike? I peered behind us, just waiting for incoming assholes.
Electricity. Watch this. He looked up at the light, then at the floor, with no further explanation. Then he punched four keys in fast succession.
The hallway went dark around us, shadows fluttering down the passageway we’d come. The light on the keypad shone yellow for a moment and went dark.
That’s actually brilliant.
C’mon. Wyatt pushed the door open, now unlocked without electricity to power it. He made a hand motion as he herded Anya and me toward the double doors. I’ve got the triggers set with a good long range, but we need to hurry. Power’s only out for a moment.
We hustled through the double doors.
Aren’t we simply trapping ourselves in this room? Anya’s question sounded plaintive.
Not as long as I have the Spectre. I fired it up and headed to the back of the room. I’ll just slip around behind our pursuers and do a little scouting around. Just hang tight, and I’ll find our way out. Then we’ll nab Stone and be on our way.
I slipped through the wall, leaving my friends nodding in the dark.
Back in the empty hallway, I took a moment to orient myself to Stone’s directional marker. It still lay far below us, but at least we’d made some progress. I headed off in that general direction slipping off the Spectre.
Padding down a long corridor, I took the first right…
And nearly crashed into three large men in intense tactical gear.
Well, shit.
“Hey, guys.” I smiled, but they didn’t smile back. For long moment I stared at the three armed men. Body armor and MK 23s, particularly nasty automatic pistols, met my gaze. Yet I didn’t care about the equipment; I wanted to gauge the men.
I met three sets of dark, mercenary eyes.
They looked me up and down, trying to guess whether or not I might be trouble.
I smiled, knowing the answer.
“There’s a line you know.” I slowly dropped my arms to my sides. I clutched my one disruptor but tried not to appear overtly threatening. “A line where an incursion changes from being sneaky and secretive and shifts over into loud and obnoxious.” I let my gaze rest on each of the men in turn. “I’d say we just crossed the line.”
I reengaged the Spectre.
“Wha—?” A young guy, whom I honestly thought probably shouldn’t even be there, gasped as I faded into a blurry, phantasmal version of myself.
“There!” A shaved-bald gentleman that I instantly nicknamed Cueball exclaimed. His calm confirmed my suspicion; Sadhana had briefed at least some of their minions for exactly this kind of situation.
I sprinted forward as two of the goons opened fire.
The bark of gunshots echoed loudly down the passageway. Bullets whizzed through my hazy form, leaving trickles of wintery sensation where they passed before they tore into the expensive carpet ahead.
You okay, Hoss? I felt the concern in Wyatt’s link.
Nothing I can’t handle. I spun and flung myself through one of the men, fetching up next to him, disruptor drawn.
I shifted into physicality just long enough to pull the trigger inches from the man’s head.
Cueball’s face and chest were bathed in blood and bone and brain as my target fell to the floor.
“We need back up!” The young man who seemed as if he might be better suited to drawing comic books in his mother’s basement practically wailed into a walkie-talkie, “We have a bogey on floor forty-eight! Target possesses extra-natural capabilities!”
“I’m extra-naturally handsome, if that’s what you mean,” I quipped as I materialized next to Cueball, my katana already buried in his chest. I simply stared at the boy on the walkie-talkie, allowing him to gape in horror as his friend foamed at the mouth and gurgled, lungs filling with blood.
Dammit, I thought as his eyes ran wild and frantic. Only a kid.
“How about you just run?” I kept my tone soft, conversational. I thought th
at the young man might literally piss himself as he backed away, his weapon held loosely in one hand. It only took him three or four steps before he realized that I would let him go.
He turned and sprinted down the hallway.
Michael, I am receiving a sudden spike in radio transmissions. Anya hesitated.
Trouble? I linked as I watched the young man run.
Reinforcements are being routed in your direction.
Just can’t keep things quiet, can you? Wyatt snarked over the link.
Truth be told, I knew he hated the sneaking around just as much as I did.
Well, you know. I leaned over toward Cueball to wipe my katana blade on his shirt.
The blood caught my eye.
The color whispered of primal beauty, elegant and simple, scarlet poetry dripping down my blade. The way it dripped sent positively erotic shudders across my back.
I itched. The sensation came suddenly, almost like an allergic reaction. I looked over my shoulder, scratching my arm as I did.
It felt like I was being watched.
Know what, Hoss? Wyatt’s link snapped me back to myself.
When one is good at one’s job, one’s natural inclination is to let everyone know.
Who said you were good at your job? Wyatt chuckled. Wait where you are, why don’t you? If you’re finished with your overly loud subterfuge and sneakiness, we’d best group up. I just gotta jump the door again.
Roger that.
I scanned the passageway in the direction the young man had fled. No one.
But I felt someone watching me, an ancient and terrible gaze. Those eyes were cunning and held a desire for blood that made me tremble.
No. I stood alone in the hallway.
I returned my thoughts to the young man. He truly hadn’t been prepared for what had happened and didn’t really understand the jokers he worked for. I felt for him, knowing full well that if I saw him again, I probably wouldn’t be able to let him go.
For his sake, I hoped he didn’t come back.
17
Wyatt gave me a nod and a roll of his eye as he approached.
Anya stared off into space, tweaking at invisible strands that relayed her data, as per typical.
