Code Breakers: Beta (11 page)

Another choked ‘yes’ followed.

“Here’s the deal,” Gabe said, softening his voice just a little. “We’re gonna borrow those quads. We’re gonna get the parts ya need. Ya’re going to fix Alpha, and then we’ll leave ya in peace. Your network is compromised. I did ya a favour. When ya hold up your end of the deal, I’ll explain more. For now, ya’ll thank me for saving ya. Do ya understand?”

He eased his weight off her, let her lift her head off the workbench. She didn’t speak, just nodded, her eyes wet with pain and hatred. That he could deal with. It was too late for any careful and polite dealing. It was time to get things done.

Using Petal to guard Shelley, Gabe took the parts of Alpha from the workbench and packed them in the original orange flight case. Using two further cases, he packed three days’ worth of food and water and loaded the cases onto the quad bikes. The fuel cells would be good for at least a week’s worth of running.

However sick and twisted Shelley was, there was no denying she was a damned good engineer. Somehow she’d cobbled together enough of a solution to bypass the bike’s EMP-fried circuitry and get them running again.

Once packed and ready, he rejoined Petal and Shelley in the plane.

“We’re ready to go,” he said.

Shelley still gave him the stink-eye, but she seemed happier with the situation once Petal had explained more, and they’d agreed to leave the inactivated transcendent behind. Gabe had promised he would activate it on his return.

Of course he had no such intentions. He fully planned to return it to Enna.

He knew he should feel some kind of remorse for screwing Shelley over, but each time he felt that, he remembered back to the last time they were here. Remembered finding the pile of rotting bodies, their skins hanging on a wire to dry in the arid conditions. Remembered Shelley’s sick grin as she planned on relieving him and Petal of their own skins. No, she was not one to have pity for, nor feel remorse for. She was a monster, even more so than Gabe.

That was the status of this world now: a hierarchy of the monstrous.

Petal had joined him at the quad-bikes. They’d found goggles and gloves in the bikes’ storage compartments. The H-core engines—part electric, part combustion—fired up with their distinctive low-growling whine. Gabe looked over to Petal. “Ya ready?”

She gave him the thumbs-up, and together they drove off and left the compound. Shelley stood in the open doorway of her plane. He could feel the hate in her eyes as she watched them leave.

He revved the quad-bike and sped off into the distance, overtaking Petal, enjoying the sense of speed and danger, trying to forget himself for a few minutes, forget the memories, live in the now.

Petal chased him down, and together they rode side by side.

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. At least she was one thing he could count on. No matter what he did in his past, she always had his back. And with the threat of Gerry’s code inside her mutating, he knew that getting Alpha fully operational so they could successfully extricate Gerry, and hopefully destroy Elliot, would be the one thing he would happily die trying to achieve.

And if they couldn’t do it that way, then at least he’d try his luck with Xian—if he hadn’t died of poisoning already. Gabe and Petal were there a year ago, and he wasn’t looking well then. Still, even if he had died, at least his gear should still be there, unless the scavengers had found him.

Chapter 12

James Robertson pushed his way through the burgeoning crowd outside the presidential building. Up and down the road, citizens were protesting, some with placards calling for the return of the citywide network and the D-lottery, others with signs denouncing the new government.

A middle-aged man with a hooded coat stood on the steps, looking back at the braying populace. James noticed an ugly scar on the man’s wrist—a sign of a ronin—when he thrust out his arms, pointing at the people, instructing them of the incompetency of Fuentes’ leadership.

She’d only been in the position a few weeks; what more could they have expected? She was a capable, charismatic leader, not a miracle worker. James shook his head. He understood that there would be some friction as the new government got the city working efficiently again, but to be protesting so soon and to return to the days of the D-Lottery and the all-encompassing network just seemed so out of step with what he thought these people would want.

They were free now. The city was free. Why go back?

Pushing his way to the front, James stared at the man as he passed him. There was an edginess to this protest leader. His features were sharp, cruel even. James had no doubt he was one of the group that were dealing the chips. He considered performing an arrest, taking him to security, but the latter were standing inside the glass doors, watching the proceedings.

The atmosphere was tense; if he did anything to aggravate the protestors, he feared they would riot and storm the building. Better to let them shout and wave their signs. It’d buy the government time to get to the root of these chips and settle the citizens.

Two security women opened the door for him when he flashed his dermal implant across the ID scanner. He nodded to them as he passed, heading for his office. The building had a wide-open lobby, all glass and white polished surfaces. Five graphite pillars arranged in a wide star formation stretched up ten metres to the next floor. A great staircase made from marble wound up the various levels on the left-hand side of the lobby.

An elliptical wood-effect desk sat in the middle of the pillars, behind which, waiting for him with a smile, sat Imogen, the concierge.

James approached, smiling warmly. She had always been so polite and helpful to him when so many others, Sasha and some of the other governors, had shown him a cold shoulder. They still blamed him for the ’droids being hacked and controlled by the Red Widows.

Still, he was on edge since Petal had left with Gabe. Although he had given Petal plenty of capacity to hold AIs and malicious code, Gerry’s mind was far larger, and Enna’s experiment with the transcendent had gone spectacularly wrong.

He just hoped they could fix Alpha. Because with Elliot—or what was left of him in his posthuman, uploaded consciousness, still somewhere out there—and these ronin becoming more numerous within the city, they would need both Petal’s and Gerry’s skills and the server in order to put a stop to it all. Adding to his worries, he hadn’t heard from Sasha for nearly a day. That was not normal, even with their strained relationship of late.

Despite her feelings towards him, they still communicated often. Mostly work-related, but it was something. It was a start, a small building block from which he could start mending relations, rebuild the close bond they had once shared.

Not having her with him like before in Criborg left a void in his soul, like one of his ’droids: almost functional, but missing an essential piece that made him whole.

“Doctor Robertson,” Imogen said.

James stopped at the desk. “Yes? What have you got for me today, Imogen?”

“President Fuentes is waiting in her room for you. She said to tell you it’s urgent government business.”

“Thank you. I’ll be right up.”

Fuentes’ room was on the third floor. He could take the elevator, but with a skip in his step, the anticipation of another secret tryst gave him the energy to take the stairs. He also wanted to check if Sasha had returned. She wasn’t responding to his messages, and their VPN connection had failed some hours earlier.

The way she stormed from the boardroom before made him think she’d disconnected their private network in spite. Stopping at the second floor and taking a quick breather, he made his way to Sasha’s room. He passed his wrist implant across it; the mechanism chirped, clicked, and the door swung open. Empty.

He stepped inside and investigated further, calling out, “Sasha, you here?”

No answer.

Her bed was still made, and a change of clothes from the laundry service sat on the edge of the bed. Hadn’t she been back all night? She was probably in the city centre, or maybe with Malik, but a sense of unease bubbled up inside his chest.

He told himself it was nothing; she was a capable girl. Still, the anxiety remained, stuck to his lungs like grease. He took the slate from the top of her nightstand and wrote a message.

Sasha,

I’m worried. It’s probably nothing, but you seemed upset with me, and I’ve not heard from you. Even if you’re angry with me, please let me know when you get this message if you’re okay.

Love,

James.

It wasn’t ideal, but at least it was something. She would, hopefully, get the message and realise he still cared for her, still looked out for her, wanted her safe.

Placing the slate back on the nightstand, he left the room, locked the door behind him, and focussed on the next order of business: Fuentes.

Within a minute he’d climbed the steps to her suite. A pair of security men stood at the front of the entrance hall that lay before her room. Recognising him instantly, on account of the regularity of his visits, they instantly relaxed when he approached, smiled, and opened the double wooden doors for him.

“Thank you, gentleman,” James said.

They nodded, hiding sly grins.

Did they know? Had they guessed with all his visits what was going on? Even if they did, he and Fuentes weren’t doing anything wrong. He passed through the doors, aware of a prickling heat dappling his neck and cheeks. The stain of embarrassment. But he didn’t care. He’d been so alone for so long now. Decades without real female company aside from his clones, who had now deserted him—Petal going off with Gabriel, who seemed to be more of a father figure to her than James could ever be, and now Sasha blanking him. Perhaps that was the way of things. Perhaps as a kind-of-parent, this splitting was inevitable.

It still hurt regardless, but Fuentes’ attentions helped take the sharpness off that particular knife. Blunted its edge so that the pain was bittersweet. As he approached the door to her private suite from the long hall, the sun shining through the tall windows, he felt that same tingle of excitement each time he made this journey.

Every step adding to the anticipation.

The first time came from far out of his vision. He was there, in her suite, going over some security protocols for the new service when she just stopped what she was doing and unbuttoned her jacket, letting it fall to the floor to expose her beautiful, naked body.

It was raw and quick, both hungry for each other, for the release. All the pent-up tension from working sixteen hour days to build a new government unwinding in a single, wild frenzy of lust.

His palms were hot and damp with sweat as he gripped the door handle. He pushed it down and entered the room. There she was, in a white, tight-fitting, lace negligee, lying seductively on the bed, one leg crossed over the other. She wasn’t wearing panties. His eyes followed the lines of her slim limbs, from her feet to her ankles, up her calves and thighs to the dark shadow of her sex.

As if compelled by her seduction, every worry and concern melted away like a snowball in summer, to be replaced with the heat of wanting. Step after step he moved forward, approaching the foot of the bed. Fuentes leaned forward and curled a finger towards herself, beckoning him on.

“I’ve been waiting,” she whispered, low and sultry. “We’ve got a lot of issues to deal with.”

“Oh?”

She patted the space next to her on the bed. “But before business, how about a little pleasure?”

James removed his tie and jacket and approached Rosario Fuentes with a greedy smile on his face.

Chapter 13

Sasha opened her eyes. They felt heavy, stuck with glue. Light poured in, blinding her with a blanket of white like a blizzard, making her squint against the brightness. She tasted a bitter film on her tongue, and she smelled a musk of spices and oil. Her head pulsed with an insistent and throbbing ache.

A touch on her bare right forearm made her jump. Three fingers glided across her skin so very faintly she imagined moths flittering against her, attracted by the light. Close to her ear she felt the touch of warm breath. The combined sensations made her shiver. She recognised the scent now that her head was clearing.

“Wake up, Snow White.” The voice lulled to her, rich and deep. She had a flashback to the first time Jimmy had awoken her from stasis. Only this wasn’t Jimmy.

Restraints around her ankles and wrists prevented her from sitting up from the flat surface.

“You have a function to perform. A small but vital one.” The voice was overhead now.

Opening her eyes wider, she saw a shadow creep over her. A man’s head blocked the glaring light. Upside down, he smiled at her. He was standing behind her and leaning over.

It was the man from the bunker, the man with the fine suit and the dark eyes.

“Who are you?” Sasha said.

“They call me the Engineer,” he said. “It’s a little pretentious, but a title like that helps focus people’s attention. Don’t you agree?”

“Depends, really.”

“Oh? On what?”

“On whether you can live up to the title. What is it that you’re engineering exactly?” So this was the guy the ronin workers were taking her to see before. She took some level of satisfaction knowing he had to come to her. She hated making things easy for assholes.

Her vision adapted now. The glare dissipated, and she could make out details. Above her a bank of white OLED panels shone. Towards the foot of the table she saw a holoscreen. A shape moved on it. Was that...?

“My name is Katsuo Ono,” he said as he took up a position beside her. He, too, was looking at the holoscreen. “And I will make you a very simple offer. You’ll have a choice. I’m not a barbarian, but I do have goals I’d like to attain. I’m sure you understand. It’s the way of this world now, after all, is it not?”

The form on the holoscreen grew sharper as her sight focussed. A man was sitting in a chair. Beside him were two ronin women in green medical shifts. They wore facemasks and white gloves.

One of the women lifted the man’s head.

“Malik!” Sasha strained against her straps, arching her back off the table for leverage. She thrashed her arms and legs, banging her calves and elbows against the surface. Spittle flew from her mouth as she screamed with rage.

Katsuo placed a hand on her arm. “There, there. No need to panic. He’s in good hands.”

She recoiled at his touch, lizardlike with his dry, raspy skin and tentative exploration of her flesh. She turned her head to him and saw the glee in his eyes, wide and dark like voids. No emotion beyond a dispassionate curiosity.

“What is it you want?” Sasha said, wanting it over with, whatever it was he had planned.

“I want you to make the right decision.” He crossed his arms across his slight chest and leaned back against the white wall. To his left, stacks of servers were arranged in a vertical rack: Family-made Quantum-core units.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Sasha said.

“Your friend has a potentially fatal wound. He’s lost a lot of blood and doesn’t have much time to live unless he receives emergency medical attention. Which, of course, we’re prepared to give.”

“If?”

“Yes, if you make the right decision. If you willingly accept a ronin-chip and give yourself to your real father, Elliot Robertson, your friend will be saved. However, if you choose not to, you both die. I trust it’s a trivial decision. I’d hate to waste such a wonderful creation such as you. You would be a fine companion, not to mention a fine addition to our cause. It’d be like coming home to your family.”

“What cause is that exactly? All I’ve seen you and your group do is murder innocent people.”

“Every cause requires a sacrifice. Didn’t you and your allies sacrifice a great deal in order to prevent the Red Widows from taking the Dome?”

“That’s different,” Sasha said, squirming against the straps. “That was war.”

“And you think what we’re doing is different? Let me tell you something. You would not have won that war if it weren’t for him diverting the nuclear missiles from the Family’s station. You would not have the freedom from their tyranny now if it wasn’t for Elliot providing this city with a protective shield—the Family cannot send or receive data with us. They are adrift and no longer a threat. Elliot and the ronin who ally with him have done more to free this city than you or anyone else.”

“You want to enslave the population! For fuck’s sake, you and Elliot just want to replace the Family. You just want to be the new gods. You’re no different.”

Katsuo shook his head and sighed, dropping his shoulders. “You’re blind, my dear. For all of your advancements and altered upgrades, you still can’t see.”

“Then explain to me what I’m missing.”

“We want this city; that is correct. But not to rule with tyranny. But to guide humankind.”

Sasha smiled and laughed. “You sound just like them. Both the Family and the Red Widows. You’re as delusional as they were. Elliot’s nothing more than a cult leader and you his lieutenant. You’re spouting the same old shit. You are the same shit. You just have nicer clothes.”

Katsuo ran his fingers from her wrist and slowly, lightly traced a path up her arm and to her neck. He gripped her throat and squeezed while bringing his face just inches from hers.

“Shit with power,” he said, low and slow, full of threat. “You have a choice to make. The chip, or Malik’s death.”

He stood then and turned to face the holoscreen. His face went blank for a moment—sending a message across his network to those in the medical room. The two women reached out of view and returned holding a pair of chromed, surgical blades: long and curved with a row of small, serrated teeth. They were clearly designed for limb removal.

The women stood on either side of Malik. Panic grew in his eyes when he saw what they were holding. He thrashed to no avail within his chair. He opened his mouth, and his face pulled taut, screaming a silent scream.

“They’re really good,” Katsuo said. “He will die, but not for a while. With the application of localised ’Stem use, it’s surprising just how much meat the human body can lose before expiring.”

Sasha squeezed her eyes shut. A phantom scream entered her head as she imagined Malik’s fear and pain. Ever since she arrived in his life, he’d experienced nothing but pain. First on the battlefield, where she thought he was dead, to losing his leg chasing after her, and now this.

Guilt welled up inside like a tidal wave. Rushing up from the depths of her stomach to her throat, it came rushing out in a torrent of words.

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it. Just don’t hurt him anymore. Please, help him. He’s a good man. I’ll do it.”

She let her head fall back to the surface of the table and choked back the tears. Tears for putting Malik and herself in this position, and for having to give in, to give them and Elliot what they wanted. She was betraying her friends, the city she helped liberate, and her very core of what made her who she was. But behind it she had a flicker of hope, a growing seed of an idea.

If they were going to hook her up to Elliot and the ronin network, perhaps she could fight them from within. Use her relationship with Elliot to seek an advantage if possible.

Katsuo nodded before his face had that same brief, blank expression as he sent a message to the women. They stood back and placed the blades out of view. Katsuo turned to Sasha then. Stroked her hair back from her head and face.

“You did the right thing,” he said, smiling with the countenance of a predator who had cornered his prey. “It won’t be as bad as you think. Your father is—magnificent.”

Sasha swallowed back her earlier outburst, breathed deeply, and composed herself. “What exactly will he do with me? What’s my role in all this?”

“I’ll let him explain that to you once you’re on the network. But let’s just say you and your real father will be real close.”

With that, he approached the door. “Your procedure will start in the morning.”

“Wait, you’re gonna keep me strapped here overnight?”

He ignored her and closed the door behind him. The holoscreens remained on as she watched Malik sitting, strapped to the chair, his face taut with pain and fear. Somehow she would get him out... somehow.