The suit pinged. Janed fired. The grapple shot out…hit, and stuck. Jane breathed again, and slowly began reeling herself in. She finally reached the truck. Sticking her gloves onto the flat metal surface made her feel a whole lot better. It was a little bit of solid in that whole lot of nothing.
Moments later Katze swung up smoothly next to her. She had been doing space work since she was a kid, and made it look effortless. There was a giant grin on the other side of her faceplate. “I love this stuff.” They were close enough for their helmet comms to link, so it was almost like having a normal conversation. “That was fun.”
“Not even a little bit,” Jane replied.
Bushey was nowhere to be seen. Jane located his pod, but it was already past the ideal release point. “Bushey, you’re running out of time!”
Suddenly, the side of his pod opened, and Bushey rolled out. He did the calculations, then had to risk a quick flash of his thrusters to close the distance. The truck dispatched a garbage monkey toward him, but when it came close, Bushey batted it away, then kicked it, and moved on. A few seconds later, he joined them, and stuck to the side.
“The hatch holding most of my gear—it was stuck. I don’t know. Maybe the heat fried the locking mechanism. I have no idea.”
“So you’re unarmed?” Katze had weapons strapped all over her body.
“Of course not, but I lost the big stuff.”
That pod full of evidence was still speeding along toward Big Town. So Jane sent it on a sharp course down toward the planet. Hopefully it would burn up before security could intercept it.
“Let’s hope you weren’t seen by anything other than that monkey. Let’s get inside.”
Jane had never seen a garbage drone that didn’t have a hatch for manual override or human control. Systems like this always had built in redundancy. This one was on the bottom. Jane opened it. Katze slipped in. Then Bushey. Jane waited for all her bots to scurry through, then followed and began to close the door behind her.
Just before she shut it, a sleek security ship zoomed past, lights blazing.
“Not as clean as I hoped, but we’ve made it this far.” Jane closed the hatch behind her. “Now let’s get this thing to Big Town before garbage control goes nuts.”
Chapter 33
Bushey got behind the very rudimentary controls, looked over the display, then said, “This baby is half full of junk and plenty of fuel. Where are we going? Back to the docks?”
“That might draw attention. We might have already tripped an alarm by me logging in.” She pulled up a map of Big Town in her eye, found a spot that looked good and shared it with Bushey over her net. “Head toward this exterior maintenance door.”
Bushey punched in their new destination. The computer prompted him for a reason code. He selected, exterior scrap pickup.
The onboard computer accepted that and changed direction. Garbage trucks weren’t made to transport humans, which became abundantly clear when this one engaged its thrusters so suddenly that it threw Jane and Katze back against Bushey and pressed them all against the wall.
“Two dames at once? I think I might pass out from joy. Unfortunately, I need to fly this thing. Can you two contain yourselves?”
“In your dreams,” Katze said, as her suit compensated for the Gs enough to move, and Bushey manned the controls.
Between the three of them and the tiny bot army, it was almost as cramped as being in the stealth pod. Jane was used to her murderous menagerie, but the close presence of so many super-dangerous little bots was obviously making the other two uncomfortable. Jane sent a quiet command for all of them to squish to the sides as much as possible.
“Why’s that teddy bear staring at me like that?” Bushey asked nervously.
“That’s Ron,” Jane explained. Like most of her work, she went for the cute, but scary, aesthetic. Well, the cute was on purpose, but the scary just kind of happened because Jane really didn’t understand people that well. Ron was pink and purple, attached to the ceiling, and looking down at Bushey with glowing eyes. “Think of him as a walking submachinegun with diamond saw hands, who is very protective. I don’t think he liked you calling me a dame.”
Bushey slowly nodded. “Duly noted, adorable murder bot. Duly noted.”
As they got closer to Big Town, Jane checked the systems she had access to. There was some chatter about the pods, as Big Town Control tried to figure out what was going on in their space, but no flags on their truck yet.
The truck slowed and began to thrust left to match the orbital’s roll. They continued forward, flying over the exterior which bristled with modules and antenna. Big Town was constantly being added onto. They flew around some new construction and passed over a small crew of workers in blue and yellow suits and exos, clinging to a sea of small bars that covered the surface. But one of them was tethered, floating a few meters out for some reason, right in the truck’s path.
Bushey swore. The truck swerved. The worker flared his thrusters to try and get out of their way. Jane didn’t feel the thump of a collision but checked the rear camera to be sure. They’d barely missed the guy. He raised his hand and flipped them off.
“I think that means have a good day,” Bushey said.
“And may your whole house be blessed,” Katze said.
Jane fully expected they would have to kill somebody before the day was over, but she was glad they hadn’t started by running down an innocent worker. They sped away from the work crew until they vanished around the curve. The maintenance hatch was just ahead.
Their suits were color-change capable. Jane pulled up the menu and found a close match to the blue and yellow pattern of the work crew. “Switch to this. If we’re seen it might buy us some more time.”
The truck decelerated as they reached their destination. Katze went out first, then Bushey. They each hung onto some handles on the belly of the truck, dark shadows drifting a bit in the weightless environment. Jane found a handle for herself, swung out, did a bot headcount to make sure she had them all, then shut the hatch behind her.
“Straight ahead,” Katze said. “Disengage in three, two, one.”
They pushed off, then used their thrusters to make a soft landing with the orbital’s spin. This was a much easier jump than the one they’d just made, so it didn’t frazzle Jane’s nerves too much more. The garbage truck would continue on, searching for debris.
“Bogey ahead,” Katze warned.
It was a simple, cheap security bot. Vaguely insect shaped, probably on a routine patrol around the orbital’s exterior. If it saw them, it would report them.
Jane was already on it. “Go,” she ordered Rene.
Her bot blasted off.
Before the security drone could react, Rene sped in a lightning-quick jig pattern, came around the robot’s backside, and landed on its gun arm. Rene was one of Jane’s originals, modeled on the Jewel Wasp that injected venom into a cockroach’s brain, took it over, laid its eggs, and then sealed it in its burrow, leaving a handy feast for when its babies woke up.
Rene stung the robot’s “nervous system,” injecting a horde of Jane’s favorite viruses. It immediately cut communications and killed the gun. A few seconds later, the viruses found the motor controls. The security robot’s magnetic feet released, and it drifted out into space, twitching. Rene jumped off and flew back to Jane, automatically going into a holding pattern to watch for more threats.
Now that she had let it go back to its normal routine, the garbage truck would gather up the “malfunctioning” bot, but by the time anyone realized what had happened to it, they could be long gone.
The three of them reached the hatch. It used a basic identification protocol, but the Atticus Wall ID got them right in. She sure hoped that worker had a good alibi, because she’d hate for Warlord to execute the poor fellow as a collaborator by mistake. Jane sent two small probe bots inside to scout. The airlock was clear.
“Back to Big Town,” Bushey said. “Let’s go rescue Tu
i and Jackson.”
“Just a second,” Jane frowned as she listened to the probes. Now that they were in range, she was getting reports from the bots she’d left behind. She had Fifi’s last location at the governor’s mansion, but her signal had gone dead. That sucked. Fifi had been one of Jane’s favorite bots, which was why she’d given her to Jackson, who was one of her favorite humans. But Baby, who she had given to Tui, was two kilometers away, and had been assigned to tail someone. Baby sent Jane a quick recap of events.
“What is it?” Katze asked.
“Those dirty Originals were all set to help Jackson steal the mech. They had some sort of distraction in place to lure away the guard, but now they’re in hiding.”
“There’s only three of us against all of Warlord’s men,” Bushey muttered. “I wouldn’t turn down their help.”
Jane was feeling righteously angry. These people had stuck a bomb in her friend’s back to coerce him into doing this ridiculous job, and it was their fault he’d gotten captured. “Oh, the Originals are going to help us, whether they like it or not.”
* * *
Jackson was starting to have revelations. That probably wasn’t the right word, but that’s how the instructions came. Like an unfolding before your eyes. Sudden knowledge blossoming in your mind, accompanied by an exhilaration that felt like a little breeze stirring the soul.
He came back to reality, still tied to the chair, machines humming in the background. His timer was at 2:49.
Tui was still there, but so was Fain, and he was zapping Tui with some kind of shocker. Between electrocutions, he would shout questions. Who was their contact? What was their plan? When did the Originals hire the Tar Heel? Are you supplying them with weapons? That sort of thing. But Tui was a rock, the unmovable object. He met the shocks with gritted teeth and the questions with silence.
Jackson couldn’t do anything to help Tui, because he was busy drowning, and trying to keep himself above water. When he’d been recovering from the last hack, he’d had to learn how to meditate. It was one of the protocols Jane had taught him to help rewire his brain. Except meditation couldn’t fight a swarm of nanites physically manipulating the electrical impulses in his mind. It was like trying to use wind erosion to counter someone laying an asphalt road. He could feel the wetware pinging his various systems, testing to make sure the feedback channels were right. Another hour of this, Jackson thought, and they would turn it on. And this time there would be no Captain or Jane to bring him back.
Not even LaDue’s biobomb would do the trick. He’d be serving Warlord long before that clock expired. He thought about those poor fools on the surface fighting for their rights. He thought about Gloss, and how he had slaughtered his people with joy. The Originals wouldn’t have a chance. It wouldn’t be long now.
Fain stopped shocking Tui. Jackson looked up to see why. Warlord had come back.
“How is it going?” The blood and smell didn’t seem to bother him in the least.
“This one hasn’t said a thing.” Fain gestured in disgust at poor Tui, who was barely conscious. “He’s tough. I’ll give him that. It might take a few days to wear him down. Deprive him of food, water, sleep, he’ll talk eventually.”
“Ah, but Fain. You don’t have days. We have a wager.” He went over to Jackson and studied him for a moment. “It’s a shame to do this to you, Jackson. It truly is. We’re a rare breed, you and I. If circumstances were different, I think we could have been friends.”
Jackson started to tell him off, but strangely enough, the insults wouldn’t form. The aggressive wetware didn’t just demand obedience, it would not tolerate any disrespect.
Warlord picked up a tablet and went over the readouts from Doctor Tiny Ears. “It appears we should be far enough along, so let us see if the reprogramming is working. Surely, Frans wasn’t your contact. I was surprised by his treachery. I always thought he was a good soldier, but he lacked the leadership qualities to run a terrorist cell, especially one as efficient as the rats in Big Town’s walls. So tell me, who were you meeting with?”
He tried not to answer. He ordered himself not to talk. But his mouth said, “Ian MacKinnon, bartender at the Lucky Monk,” anyway. Damn it.
“Alright, you win.” Fain sighed and threw down his shock stick in disgust. “I’ve seen MacKinnon around. He was a big shot back during the gang wars, fits the profile. You want me to pick him up?”
“In a minute. Let me see what else Jackson has to say. Has your captain been conspiring against me?”
“No.”
“Who did you meet with in secret on the surface?”
“Some settlers, led by a woman named LaDue.” Jackson tried to literally bite his tongue, but the wetware wouldn’t allow him to damage the Warlord’s property.
“Our scans showed something in your back, what is it?”
“A biobomb, set to detonate in two hours and thirty-eight minutes, unless I take your mech away.”
“Ah, so you were coerced into betraying me. A slightly extenuating circumstance, but it does not excuse the enthusiasm you put toward the task.” Warlord gave him a sad, patronizing smile. “You should have been honest with me. I would have helped you. I’m disappointed.”
Those last two words caused physical agony, as the wetware made him feel terrible shame.
The bomb had gone from being his worst nightmare to his only hope. Now that Warlord was in his head, he didn’t want the bomb defused, he wanted it to detonate ASAP. Death was preferable to this.
“Jane couldn’t figure out how to shut it down. There’s no way your quacks will in time. I’ll be dead long before you’ll be able to use me.”
Warlord laughed, genuinely amused. “You are partially correct. My people probably won’t be able to defuse it. However, that won’t be necessary. You are used to thinking in terms of what is humane and moral. I don’t suffer from such weakness. One must be pragmatic to thrive on Swindle. I’ll simply have the device removed with surgical lasers. It will surely detonate in the process, but we will cut out the entire area before its poison spreads too far. Of course, that means slashing out a few of your vertebrae and probably using machines to keep you alive. You’ll be paralyzed for life, but you don’t need your limbs to fly-by-mind.”
That was horrific, but the Warlord’s words had a soothing quality to them. The mech could be his body. It was a small sacrifice to make, so that the rest of his days could be spent in glorious service, making Big Town a prosperous, safe place. Jackson knew that was the nanites talking. He tried to force all their lies aside by finding something else to focus on. He found hate. Hate for Warlord, hate for this stupid planet, and hate for everyone who had gotten him into this mess. Which meant hating himself most of all.
That helped a little bit, and, briefly, Jackson could think clearly again. He managed to spit out, “Go to hell.”
“That’s the best part of living here. To see hell, all I have to do is look down.” Warlord looked over the tablet one last time. “It appears the wetware still has some work to do. I’ll go ahead and have that spinal surgery prepped for you.”
Warlord left the room, while Fain made a call to send a strike team to pick up MacKinnon. Tui was still out. All Jackson could do was try and hold fast.
It wouldn’t be long now.
* * *
Because Jane had been spoofing everyone’s IDs, when they tapped into the Big Town feed, they started receiving all sorts of ads for the identities they’d assumed. Jane’s stolen identity must have come from a regular customer at pompom houses, which looked to be places where people practiced some kind of group dancing. She still couldn’t access the Big Town Guard’s channel but knew that if a bulletin was put out for them, as a citizen, she’d see it. But there was no alert. Just happy rows of dancing people shaking glittery puffs.
Environment suits weren’t that out of place here, with all the harvesters traveling to and from the docks in their dirty work clothes. So the team popped their helmets and wer
e counting on Jane’s ID swapping to protect them from being picked up on facial recognition. To hide all the longer guns and larger bots, Jane had rented a wheeled cart. Now in blue and yellow, they looked like one of the city’s many roving crews.
Big Town was the exact opposite of the isolated town she’d grown up in on the northern coast of Lok. There, everything was immaculate and clean. The streets were straight, the buildings in each neighborhood were all of a specific style. There was order. The very air was scented on a schedule. At night, an army of robots and drones came out to manicure the landscapes, trimming the first signs of wilting leaves and disappearing unwanted insects. Other bots guarded and watched the streets, and the homes. And everyone performed the role they’d been bred for.
Jane much preferred the mess of Big Town.
Baby’s signal led them to a four-story apartment building in one of the seedier parts of Big Town. A muscular man sat outside the main on a chair, leaning back against the wall, watching them suspiciously.
“This it?” Bushey asked.
“Baby is upstairs. Top level. Room six.” Jane sent two tiny beetle bots to scout around the building. They spotted cameras, more than usual for this part of town, and they weren’t linked to the Big Town net, but rather hardwired into the building. Plus they spotted two more thugs waiting at either end of the alley that ran behind the apartment building.
“Remember, the goal is to get these people to launch their planned distraction,” Bushey said. “We need their help. We’ll try to do this the diplomatic way. So try not to kill anybody.”
“And if they don’t want to help us?” Katze asked.
“Get me to whoever is in charge. My bots can be very convincing,” Jane stated.
Gun Runner Page 39
