Division Zero: Thrall (49 page)

She closed her eyes and beckoned.

Skittles slid down a metal railing, gliding into a mass of heavy black plastic sheeting. Brightness broke through the seam as she found the entry flap and held it aside for Kirsten. She ducked through, squinting to adjust to the sudden change in light. What had once been the boiler room for an apartment building was now a crude approximation of a medical suite. Two tables occupied the center of the area, flanked by shelves of cybernetic parts―some of which still had blood on them. The more distant table contained the corpse of a filthy dark-skinned man with his chest cut open. A human-shaped outline of green plastic hovered over the body; a doctor covered by a chem suit with an electronic visor. He worked, less than carefully, unwinding threads of neuralware wiring from an exposed spinal cord.

“Hey, Doc,” chirped Skittles.

The lime suit jumped, taking a step back and grabbing a metal band around his right arm. Two dog-sized tracked security bots rolled around a corner: miniature tanks with assault-rifle mechanisms mounted to their chassis, aimed at the cat.

“That’s close enough,” he said.

“Now, Doc…” Kirsten stalked closer. “Why would you assume she wants to use you as a scratching post?”

The doc screeched; spittle coated the inside of his faceplate. “The police? You brought a goddamn cop here? Are you insane? Now I’m going to have to burn the whole place.”

“I’m Division Zero, Doc. I’m only looking for information.”

“Fucking psionic?” He shook his finger at Skittles. “You
are
fucking nuts. A god damned psionic?”

Dorian sucked power from the overhead lights as he approached; the approaching dark spot sent shudders through the cyberdoc. Blood dripped from the table as strands of neural wiring, still clenched in his fist, tugged taut. The bots swiveled at Kirsten and died on the spot as Dorian consumed their power.

Screaming, the doc abandoned the neuralware, letting the bundle of wires paint a bloody spatter on the floor as it swayed over the edge of the table. He ran through several layers of transparent plastic curtains to a door.

Skittles put her hands on her hips, nodding at Kirsten. “You know how to make an entrance.”

“That was all Dorian.”

The cyberdoc returned with an energy rifle, which he aimed at Kirsten.

“
Drop it.
” Her eyes flickered. “Now
get over here.
”

The weeping man came to a spasmodic halt a few feet away, casting mournful looks back at his abandoned weapon.

“Good.” Kirsten put a hand on his shoulder. “Now, despite your opinion psionics should be rounded up and launched into space, I’m not going to get mad at you. In fact, I’m not even going to arrest you for trading in black market cyberware. That is, of course, if you can assure me all of your parts are scavenged from the already dead. You don’t kill and steal parts do you?”

“No…”

His surface thoughts agreed with his words. “Good. In exchange for letting you slide on the tax evasion, I want two things.”

Skittles seemed quite amused at watching the doc squirm.

“W-what?”

“First, I want to know what happened to an Intera Iron Claw cyberarm with this serial number. Give me everything you know about the man who used it to try and kill me, and I won’t consider you a party to the attempted murder of a police officer.”

The Doc gulped. At this point, the coffee hue of his face vanished behind a thick layer of fog. His breaths wheezed through a respirator not meant for the speed at which he tried to take on air.

“Secondly, I need you to fix the botched installation you did on her tail before it causes permanent brain or nerve damage.”

He babbled, waving an arm at Skittles. “You did, didn’t you? You called the damn cops because of a stupid short. We had a deal. You have to pay for additional work.”

Skittles popped a single claw from her right index finger, shaking it back and forth. “Oh, no, no, no. Not additional work. Fixing the broken feces. Those two bots were all that stopped me from boning you like a fish.” She gestured as if slicing him open. “I could show you what it feels like whenever I use this damn tail. Just stick this right up into the base of your spine and pull…”

“The only question, Doc, is if you fix her willingly or under compulsion.” Kirsten folded her arms, hoping he believed the attitude she faked.

“That… you can’t do that! It’s unethical. It’s illegal.”

“As if what you do isn’t?” Kirsten glared, trying to ignore Dorian’s laughter. “Look, just fix what you screwed up. I’m not asking you to give her free parts. Take a little pride in your work, maybe she sends you more customers instead of plots to cut you open from ass to skull.”

“Oh, now you’re encouraging the trade of illegal cyberware. How do you think Miss Kitty got military-grade speedware?”

“I’m more worried about demons right now, Dorian.”

“Demons?” The doc gawked. “You are nuts.”

“I mean, if you’d rather go down for attempted murder of a police officer and trafficking illegal ‘ware, keep on talking.”

“Fine, fine.” He held both hands up in a gesture of surrender for a few seconds. Relaxing, he fiddled with a holographic panel over his right arm. “What was the serial number?” She read it off. “Randall Morris. Used to work for EnMesh security. Told me he was let go for taking side-jobs of ‘questionable legality.’ Frequent client of mine. He gets shot up pretty bad all the time, needs it strictly off the books to hide it from his employer. Last I heard from him, he got a big paycheck waved over his head from some Russian. He never mentioned a name.”

“Damn,” grumbled Kirsten.

“I can go digging… See if I can find anything on the ‘net once my tail is fixed.” Skittles stripped and stepped up on the raised base of a medical tank against the right side wall.

Kirsten shivered at all the dirt and junk piled around it, wondering just how voracious the nanobots within the gel could be. Could they destroy
all
the contamination here? “Go on, Doc. Please fix her. I trust you will work better under your own steam than as a mind puppet.”

He gulped, and moved to the control box for the tank. As the clear plastic tube closed around Skittles, Dorian shook his head.

“Mind puppet? Really?”

She gave him a weak smile and a shrug before whispering, “It worked, didn’t it?”

Skittles held her breath until the peach-colored gel reached the top of the tank. Bubbles streamed out of her as she exhaled hard and sucked in the oxygenated slime as though it were no big deal. A tremendous plume of charcoal-grey hair rose upward like an ink cloud in the upper third of the tube. Within seconds, her body went limp as she slipped into the painless grasp of anesthesia.

“She’s rather used to the stuff,” said Dorian. “She has to have military training to be that accustomed to the transition to gel. I bet she’s former Resistance. I wouldn’t be surprised if she got herself sent to the ambassador’s estate on purpose to spy on him. Hell, maybe she was there in case they wanted him dead.”

Skittles’s back split open, and the tail floated free from the body; synthetic nerve connections wrapped around the M3 wire trailed like threads of molten cheese to the base of a modified spinal cord. One by one, they broke away and reattached. Almost puking through her fingers, Kirsten faced to the side, holding up a hand to block her view of the tube while still watching the cyberdoc.

“ This will probably take a little while.” Dorian patted her on the shoulder.

“Yeah, let me know when she’s done.”

mpact knocked Kirsten out of a deep sleep. Spots of light danced around above her as her brain attempted to adjust to the rapid transition to wakefulness. She lifted her head to look at what hit her and found Evan clinging and trembling. A hand on his back made him whimper; as warm as he felt, her touch had to be icy.

“Evan?” Kirsten patted him, and used her other hand to wipe her eyes. “What’s wrong? Is there something in the apartment?”

He shook his head. “No, ‘member we blockaded it.”

She sat up, wrapping him in her blanket. “Bad dream?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to tell me about it?” She kissed the side of his head and held him.

“Dragons were trying to eat you.”

Oh…
She enjoyed a mental sigh of relief.
Not a precog flash, just an ordinary nightmare.
“Oh, sweetie. There’s no real dragons. Are you sure you haven’t been spending too much time with Monwyn?”

Evan sat up to give her a short-lived glare. “It’s not Monwyn’s fault.” He cuddled against her side again. “These dragons were gold. Metal ones. Long and thin like the ones on the Chinese food bots, not fat like fantasy dragons.”

Kirsten peeked into his thoughts, catching a fleeting glimpse of two golden dragon-heads shooting toward her like coiled serpents. It was difficult to gauge size; they filled the entirety of the mental image, surrounded by a burgundy-brown blur. What Evan had last remembered seeing appeared to be the final three seconds before large metal-toothed maws engulfed the point of view. Her voice shrieked in the darkness that followed.

She took a breath to clear her mind. “Are you mad at Konstantin? Maybe you think I’ll love him more than you?”

He stared at her arm, frowning at the bracelet. “I don’t like him. He feels weird.” Evan pushed her hand away.

Realizing the gold serpent on her arm was somewhat similar to his nightmare, she tucked it out of sight under the blanket so he could not see it. She squeezed him. “Evan. Look at me.”

He did, with wide, innocent green eyes.

“There is nothing in this world, or the one after it, that could ever lessen how much I want you to be my son. I won’t let anything or anyone hurt you ever again.”

His eyes reddened, but he did not cry. At least, if he did, the tears fell after he leapt into a hug and she could no longer see his face. “Are they gonna let me stay with you?”

“I got a positive evaluation from Dr. Loring last week. I won’t know for sure for a little while yet, but… Captain Eze said he’d raise hell if they don’t.”

Evan laughed.