Tui leapt to his feet and went for Frans’ gun.
Except that was when Sam Fain came around the corner and joined his butt-ugly devil dog, he lifted a big pistol, firing twice at Tui. Piftt, piftt. Then he turned and aimed at Jackson. Piftt.
The dart struck him in the chest. Jackson reflexively tried to yank the thing out, but it was too late. A moment later everything went blurry and sideways.
Tui plucked the darts that had struck him out, tossed them, and told Fain, “It’s gonna take more than that to stop me. Let’s see how tough you are, punk.” Then Tui’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he staggered hard to the side. “Ah, hell. This is high grade, ain’t it?”
“Nothing but the best,” Fain said. “Nighty night.”
The orbital rushed up to hit Jackson as everything went black.
Chapter 30
Jackson woke and found himself tied to a chair in a room. The spot between his shoulder blades stung, and he wondered if the release of the spine melt had begun. But he looked at the time and still had a whopping ten hours and seventeen minutes before bomb time.
The chair was metal and, since it wouldn’t even wiggle, probably bolted to the floor. Tui sat next to him, bound in another chair. Jackson realized what was holding his wrists and ankles were heavy-duty straps which were bolted right to the chair. Tui had the same thing, and some additional metal chains.
“About time,” Tui said.
“Where are we?”
“Don’t know. When I woke up I was here.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Don’t know, bro. A few minutes is all. My head is still pretty messed up.”
Fain must have used some powerful juice in his darts because it wasn’t the average tranq that could overcome Tui’s mods and knock him out. Jackson looked around the room, saw a couple of desks, screens, some complex machinery, but when he saw the taxidermized claw of some animal mounted on the wall he knew exactly where they were.
“We’re at Warlord’s mansion.”
Tui inclined his head toward something on the floor. It was a bunch of bloody rags. “I think this is the interrogation room.”
“Probably real big into the feather torture.”
“I guarantee it,” Tui said.
Torture, and then who knew what else. Tui was about the nicest guy he’d ever known, and now he was going to suffer and die because he’d tried to help. And it was all Jackson’s fault. Jackson shouldn’t have accepted the offer. He should have insisted Tui get back on the ship. This was on him. “I’m sorry, man.”
“Eh. We’ll see how it shakes out.”
Jackson tried to summon Fifi, but there was no sign of her. He’d not seen her since she’d been zapped by the defenses on the grendel’s collar. Jackson was sure that if Fain had found her, he would have stomped her flat.
“We need to come up with a plan,” Jackson sent to Tui, but before he got a response Fain walked in.
“You’re awake. Finally.”
“A man’s got to have his beauty rest,” Jackson said, still feeling groggy. “By the way, if you want this spa to take off, you’ve got to get more music. And some pretty girls.”
“A few plants would help,” Tui chimed in.
Fain held up the black bands they’d been wearing on their arms and said, “Who gave you these?”
“Just play dumb,” Tui sent over Jane’s net.
Jackson said, “Isn’t the normal protocol to separate us for our spa treatments?”
Fain came over and slapped him.
It stung. In fact, Jackson couldn’t remember ever being slapped that hard. He turned to Tui. “I think that’s the German method. Great for sagging skin and stubborn pores.”
Fain slapped him again.
The sting brought water to Jackson’s eyes. “Hoo. Definitely German.”
“Answer me.”
“You’re not going to separate us to prevent us from corroborating each other’s stories? What kind of joint is this?”
“You’d just talk over your secret comms,” Fain snapped. “Just like he did a few moments ago. Yeah, I’ve known about that capability for a while.”
“It’s just a little communication app some of the crew of the Tar Heel got.”
“With a cipher it would take all the computing power on Big Town a year to crack. Quit wasting my time. Who gave these bands to you?”
“Oh, that one’s easy. We were told there was a party below the party at that nightclub. She said we had to wear them to get into the VIP lounge.”
“Who gave them to you?”
“Some woman at the nightclub. It was dark with lots of strobe lights. I don’t know.” He turned to Tui. “Do you remember?”
Tui shook his head. “Naw. She was pretty, though.”
“A party under the party,” Fain said. “Strange there were so few people there.”
“That’s what we thought too,” Jackson said. “We wandered around for a bit, then saw Frans. Since that scene was kind of dead—”
“Boring,” Tui agreed.
“We were about to leave. Then you guys showed up and started shooting people.”
“Wow. That’s the best you could come up with? That’s disappointing. Maybe I should have let you two talk a bit more over your net so you’d come up with a story that wouldn’t bore me to death. But the time for that is past. I’m really going to enjoy what happens to you next.”
Warlord and another man they’d not seen before entered. “Ah, they’re awake. Excellent. Let’s get started.”
Fain said, “We got two jokers here. Trying to blow the wind up our dresses.”
“You’re not my type, Fain.” Then Jackson looked Warlord in the eyes and tried to appear as earnest as possible. “Sir, this is all a misunderstanding. We don’t know what’s going on. We were just looking for a good time and stumbled into something weird.”
Warlord just laughed. “That’s the story of your life, Jackson. Sadly for you, we found some oddities down on the surface. It seems you had some help from the friendly neighborhood Originals.”
Jackson said nothing.
“At first I thought that LaDue had sent you as a sleeper with her own slave controls. But your little friend is in your back, not your head. Which means whatever you’re up to, you’re doing it under your own power. I can’t tell if it’s there as a trace or something else. You want to share?”
“Something in my back?” Jackson asked as if hearing it for the first time.
“Come on, Jackson. By now you should know you really can’t trust that woman. I know from experience.”
“Who?”
“Would you care to tell us the truth about your visit in the woods?”
The man who had entered with Warlord had been carrying a briefcase. He went to a nearby table, opened it, and began removing various unrecognizable tools.
“I’ve told you the truth.”
“Now that is downright insulting.” Warlord pulled over a chair and sat down, facing Jackson and ignoring Tui. “Do you think I’m a fool?”
“No, of course not.”
“Yet you treat me as if I am one.” He spread his hands theatrically. “You’ve seen what I have built here. I took chaos and organized a society. I have given opportunities to hundreds of thousands. I have sustained their lives in a place hostile beyond comprehension and made it profitable. Could a fool do that?”
“No.”
Warlord leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Then why do you insist on treating me as one?”
Jackson didn’t answer.
“I did not build this place, Jackson, but I saved it from itself, and made it into something better. Is it perfect? Of course not. Nothing is ever perfect. But it is an impressive achievement nonetheless. It is my achievement. And now after I’ve done so much, and worked so hard, I will not let someone else come and steal the rewards of my labors. So I will discover who you are working for and what they hope to accomplish. You will debrief us with all
the details about your little trip into the woods. About your meeting last night. And whatever it is you’re plotting. You and your captain and the Originals.”
“The captain isn’t involved in any plot,” Jackson said. “There is no plot.”
“Ah, such loyalty. But you can’t protect him. Events are in motion. Your ship will be dealt with soon enough.”
“The Tar Heel left yesterday morning,” Tui said. “It’s probably halfway to the gate by now.”
Warlord looked over and studied Tui for a moment. “I think he actually believes that, doesn’t he, Fain?”
“I do, sir. Interesting.”
“What are you talking about?” Tui asked.
“Well, Mr. Fuamatu. Rather than leave the system, your old ship has taken up a position in orbit, tailing us, just out of striking distance. Their excuse is that they’re still having some problem with their repairs. I think they’re sticking around, waiting for you two to do something.”
Jackson said nothing. What would the captain be doing trailing the orbitals? What was he thinking? What was the captain doing? Or was it Jane, working like a madwoman to figure out a cure before Jackson’s clock ran out? Had they hung back for that?
“Fuamatu’s mask is pretty good,” Warlord said. “But this one’s. I believe I detect some honest surprise there.”
“What do you mean, dealt with?” Tui demanded.
“Their fate is your fault, but not currently your concern. However, once the Tar Heel is destroyed, I can’t question frozen corpses floating in the vacuum of space. Which just leaves me you two. In the spirit of expediting matters, I have proposed a little wager with Mr. Fain here. See, I love technology. He likes the old-fashioned way.”
Fain walked over and pulled the towel off a stainless-steel platter full of various pliers, knives, and needles. “Two methods,” Fain said. “Two subjects. We’ll see who cracks first.”
“First thing to crack will be your skull,” Tui snarled.
“That’s the spirit,” Fain told Tui. “Get ready for your spa treatment.”
The man with the briefcase was loading a vial into an injection gun. He set it to one side and began organizing a bunch of electrodes and wires. Apprehension filled Jackson. What did Warlord mean by technology?
Warlord saw where Jackson’s eyes had been drawn. “When we did that deep scan on your brain yesterday, we found something interesting. The overlords on Gloss used a surprisingly invasive growth. And wouldn’t you know it, but the path to your unfortunate slave hack is still there.”
Jackson was too cool under pressure to be afraid very often. But those words terrified him. “No.”
“Normally, the wetware, to truly override a brain, takes days to grow. And sometimes there are complications, often fatal. But you’ve already got the pathways cut. I must say, whoever hit you on Gloss was a master. All we have to do is drive along that old road.”
“Stay out of my head!”
“Too late for that. You can tell me now, or you can tell me later. Either way, you’ll talk, but talking isn’t good enough.”
Jackson said, “I’ve told you what I know.”
Warlord motioned at the briefcase man. “Get it ready.”
“You want to enslave the guy who is supposed to train your troops?” Jackson asked.
“Oh, I’m changing your job duties. I have a much better assignment for someone with your history. Only now you actually will be unquestionably loyal, rather than a snake.”
From spine melt to slaveware. The old images rose in his mind. Echoes of old feelings. The blissful addiction of carnage. The torn bodies and heads.
“You don’t want me as a slave,” Jackson said.
“I think I do. There are only two men on this orbital with the implants necessary to fly-by-mind. It would be a shame to waste one of us. Look on the bright side. This way you get to avoid all the drama of torture like what’s about to happen to your poor friend here. When the wetware has fully grown, and you are perfectly obedient, I’m going to send you back to the surface in that Citadel. You will go into those woods and murder the whoreson Originals, man, woman, and child. After that, if you’re still alive, there are the Kalteri settlements to deal with. It’ll be just like the old days for you.”
Jane’s block would hold. It had to.
“There’s a little something at the entry juncture,” Needle man said. “But we should be able to bypass that.”
Jackson’s fear rose. If they bypassed her block, he was done for.
“Jane.”
If the captain was still circling Swindle, it was possible Jane was still linked up, buried somewhere in Warlord’s nets, waiting, listening, and able to fulfill the promise she’d made.
“Jane!”
But there was no response.
“Naw, bro,” Tui sent. “It’s just me and you.”
“I think Rook looks agitated,” Fain said.
Warlord motioned toward the stranger. “Begin the process.”
“This isn’t going to go the way you’ve planned,” Jackson warned. “Believe me.”
The man came forward with the injector gun. When he reached out, Jackson tried to avoid him, jerking in his bonds, but that didn’t get him far because he was practically bolted to a chair.
“Hold still.” Warlord shoved Jackson’s head back against the headrest. His grip was like iron. Jackson couldn’t move.
Needle Man came closer and put his device against Jackson’s neck. A moment later there was a sudden sharp sting as the device slammed something in. That wouldn’t be the wetware. That still required direct insertion into the brain. This was probably something to sedate him.
The man stepped back.
“When you wake up, you’ll be well on your way. It will take a few hours at the most to reactivate your old controls.”
“Jane’s fix will block it, right?” Tui asked over the net.
“I don’t know. She always said it was just a patch.”
A patch when what Jackson really needed was an iron wall.
* * *
While the Tar Heel had been docked, Jane had planted a couple of toads on the orbital’s networks. She watched the data scroll across the displays of Specter’s Domain. She’d been keeping tabs on both Jacky and Tui, watching their vitals. She could pick up their audio and visual feeds, but she’d elected not to, because sending that much data via her toad line would call too much attention and let Big Town security know they’d been hacked.
With growing horror, she watched the numbers tick by.
She pinged the captain. “Sir, it’s not looking good.”
“Our boys who stayed in Big Town?”
“I’m afraid so. It looks like they’ve been captured.”
There was a sad sigh. The captain had told her to keep working, and he’d parked them in range, just in the off chance they might be able to help. He’d taken that risk for nothing. “Jackson’s a big boy. He made his bed. But damnit, Tui…”
“I can no longer read the status of my block.”
“Your block?”
“In Jackson’s head. On the old Gloss controls. I think it’s been breached.”
There was silence over the line.
“Captain?”
“I can’t risk the crew. We’re proceeding to the gate.”
* * *
Jackson awoke, but a chemical desire to sleep still hung about him. When he finally came to, his mouth was dry as dust and the side of his head felt funny. He was still in the same chair, his legs and back in pain from sitting so long. The remaining vestiges of the tranq still made him feel a bit groggy, but he felt something else. An itch on the inside of his skull. An itch in his brain.
He knew that feeling. He’d felt it long ago.
“Tui,” he sent over Jane’s net.
Nothing.
“Tui?”
And then Jackson realized there wasn’t any connection. Jane’s net was gone. No. The comms implant hadn’t been surgically removed.
He still had his visual display.
He also saw he was down two more hours. 8:34.
“Tui,” Jackson said aloud.
“Yeah, bro?”
He looked over and found Tui tied up in the corner, bloodied, beaten, his head hanging down.
“We’ve got to get out of here.”
“You don’t think I’ve been trying?” Tui lifted his battered face. It was painfully obvious Fain had really worked him over.
“Where are they?”
“Taking a smoke break, I think. Apparently punching me is a lot of work.” Tui spit a gob of blood on the floor. “They injected something into your skull. You hanging in there?”
“Yeah,” Jackson lied, because he could already feel the demons gnawing away. “I’m really sorry I got you into this, Chief.”
“Naw. Nobody forced me to get off the ship. I saw a friend who needed a hand, and I made a call to stick around. That ain’t on you so don’t get to feeling all guilty about it.”
“I’m sorry, anyway.” Jackson grimaced as there was a sharp pain through the front of his skull. He didn’t know if he’d be able to hold out against the slaveware long enough for the spine melt to kill him, or if he’d be down there torching the rebels when their implant murdered him. Part of him actually thought that would be poetic justice…And he wasn’t sure if that dark thought was his or not.
“You’re not looking too good.” Tui sounded more concerned for Jackson than himself, and considering how beat up he was, that was saying something. “You need to find something to focus on. Find it and hold on tight. Don’t let them take it from you, Jackson, you hear me?”
“Yeah. I hear you.” That wouldn’t last. He’d been here before. The brain was an amazing thing, but ultimately it was just salty electric fat, and somebody had just turned loose a nanite buzzsaw on his. “I know you’re big on the whole sense of honor, do the right thing attitude, but why did you come back for me, Tui?”
“Is talking going to help you fight off the hack?”
“Sure.” Jackson had no idea. Last time he hadn’t even realized someone had gotten into his head until he’d turned his mech’s flamethrowers on his friends. “Can’t hurt.”
Gun Runner Page 35
