Chromed- Rogue Page 7

  “Like what?”

  “Like—”

  “Forget I asked,” said Mason. “Where you going with the Metatech thing?”

  “They launched their giant, city-killing space lasers with tech they got after acquiring a majority portion of NASA.”

  “NASA made space lasers?”

  “No. NASA made space stuff. Rockets. Spaceships. Space suits. Freeze dried gourmet meals. Metatech bolted a laser on the outside of a satellite, tied it to a NASA rocket, and fired it into the sky.”

  “Oh,” said Mason. “That’s less cool.”

  “It’s still pretty cool,” she said. “Who doesn’t want a city-killing space laser?”

  “How’d we get our … Christ. Fusion or fission?”

  “Fusion.”

  “How’d we get our fusion thing into the sky?”

  “We stole the space tech from them and bolted our fusion cannon on the outside. You’re asking the wrong questions, Mason.”

  “You know I hate this game.” Mason scratched his head. “I give up.”

  “You still wanna be an astronaut?”

  “No,” said Mason. He looked at the setting sun, Earth’s star still faithful. He thought about the space between worlds. “Yes.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Mason heard Carter’s quick indrawn breath. “I can’t go with you.”

  “No.” It was hard to say the word. Mason felt like he needed to say more, but words were such small things. “Not like this.”

  Her voice sounded brittle, bright, and artificial. “It’ll be okay. We can still write.”

  “I can’t ask you to make the call.”

  “Sure you can. All you need to do is say, ‘Carter, can you call Metatech and see if they’ll accept my job application?’”

  “We could go together.” Mason leaned toward the radio. He wanted to see Carter. Look into her eyes. He didn’t want to look at a busted old radio.

  “No, we can’t.”

  “It’s just…” He paused. What do you say to the only person you trust in the universe?

  The radio hissed. “We’re a team. I get it.”

  “No. We’re—”

  “Don’t say it,” she said. “We’re a team. Just a team.”

  Mason stood. He almost didn’t notice the twinge in his leg. “I want us to keep being a team.”

  “We can’t keep being a team.” Her voice turned hard. “They want to kill you, Mason. They will never let you come back. Not this time. You tried to sell company IP. At least, that’s what they think. Someone needs to fall, and that’s gonna be you. There will never be an inquest. No corporate memo can dig you out this time.”

  He reached out, putting a hand on the radio. Mason bowed his head. “Can we—”

  “No. Whatever you’re about to ask, the answer’s no.”

  “I been doing this job for a long time, Carter. A long time.”

  “I’ve read your file.”

  Mason smiled, even though Carter couldn’t see it. I’m sure you have. “I’ve never had a…” A what? What have you never had? Just fucking say it. Tell her what she is to you. “I don’t know—”

  “It’s okay, Mason. Like I said, we can still write.”

  “No, we can’t. If we do this—”

  “If you do it.”

  “If we do this, we can’t talk again. After it’s done? Not ever.”

  The radio hissed. “I know.” Carter’s voice was soft, like fallen tears. “I know.”

  Mason looked out the window. “Okay. I need you to get a message to Harry for me.”

  “Different message to last time?”

  “That’s right. Different message. Can you ask him to meet me at the Great Wheel? Tell him I want to come in.”

  “No problem.” Carter’s voice was full of artificial brilliance, like a lamp before it burned out. “What do you want me to really tell him?”

  “Tell him it’s a setup. Tell him to be careful.”

  “Okay.”

  “Carter, can you call Metatech and see if they’ll accept my job application?” Mason let the tension out of his shoulders. I’ve said it. It’s done.

  “Yes, Mason.” The radio clicked as she dropped from the other end.

  He touched the radio again. “Thanks.” The empty room swallowed his words as he turned to leave.

  Chapter Nine

  Harry stared at the hangar wall. He was connected to pipes replenishing organic fuels and removing waste. The link was on, Carter waiting for his reply. She’d cut Lace out like you’d pull a stray thread from a shirt you got off the rack.

  His chassis hummed, the reactor fine. It’s not like he needed a battery uplift. That damn reactor would keep on powering the metal for a thousand years or more. The meat part, what was left of him still needed care. More care than he deserved.

  He stamped the thought out, grinding it underfoot like a cigarette butt. Self-pity could wait until later. “He said what?”

  “He said—”

  “I know what he said, Carter. What I meant was, why did he say that?” Harry shifted a metal foot, listening to the hiss and purr of the link.

  “You want me to guess? It’s Mason fucking Floyd. An enigma. A catalyst. The golden boy.” Carter sounded tired.

  “Right,” said Harry. “But you and I know him better. If you had to guess.”

  Carter paused for a few moments. “You want me to extrapolate based on known data?”

  “Is that the same thing as guessing?”

  “It’s similar,” she said. “There’s more science involved my way.”

  “Okay,” said Harry. “Why don’t you … what did you call it?”

  “Extrapolate.”

  “Sure. Extrapolate away.”

  Carter sighed, the link chattering between them. “I think he wants to die.”

  “That’s what I thought, too.” No wonder Carter sliced Lace from the link. “Clear signs of a death wish.”

  “Sure, Harry. I don’t know—”

  “Have you told anyone?” Harry looked down at his metal foot. His optics zoomed, highlighting chips in the painted surface. The P of NO STEP had worn away, leaving NO STE. “I mean, escalated it. Through the channels.”

  “The channels are aware. You know how this works.”

  “I used to be how this works. I get it.”

  The silence pooled between them, a lake rippled by the occasional static of the link. “So what are you going to do?”

  “My job.” Harry would have clenched his teeth if he had any left. “I’m going to do my job.”

  “I thought you might,” said Carter. “I wanted to give you the choice, though. You remember what he did for you, don’t you?”

  Harry looked at his foot again, NO STE staring back. His optics zoomed further, going to ten times resolution, a hundred, a thousand. He could see the puffs and scars of the metallic structure. Harry threw in a little false color to make it interesting. “I remember.”

  “You remember the fire.” Carter’s voice was cautious, like she was testing for explosives in a dark room.

  Harry lifted a metal hand, holding it in front of his optics. He turned to the cables connecting him to the wall. “I remember the fire. It’s not something you forget.”

  “I remember it too. He had a choice, then.”

  “How can you remember it? You weren’t assigned.”

  “That’s above your pay grade, Harry. It’s just … I remember something else, other than the fire.”

  Harry felt something hard and nasty get into his voice. “What’s that, Carter? You’re always so smart. You ever been burned alive? That what you remember?”

  The link hissed between them. “I can show you.”

  “Show me what?”

  “Do you want to know?” Carter paused. “You have to know it all, if you know a piece. So you can make the right choice.”

  “What’s in this for you? Why do you care?”

  “You ever had a friend, Harry?”

&n
bsp; Harry scraped his foot along the ground, tipping the chassis with a soft whine of servos. “What the fuck kind of question is that?”

  “You know, someone you trust. Who trusts you.”

  “Of course.”

  “Remember that, at the end of this.”

  “The end of what? You hormonal today?”

  “No.” Carter sighed. “I can’t make the choice for you.”

  An icon flashed in the corner of Harry’s overlay, a packet of data small and old. He looked at it as it blinked. It was a video file. “What is it?”

  “Just watch it,” she said.

  “Has Lace seen this?”

  “Just watch it, Harry Fuentes. Make the right choice.”

  He opened the packet. The video flooded into life.

  A man muscled like a gymnast ran along the street, rain pounding around him. He had a weapon in his hand, big and violent, a marker above his head naming him FUENTES, H. The image blurred for a moment, static coming down like the rain as an EMP kicked off nearby.

  The man — Harry — stopped, looking around the street. “Floyd! That’s a cheap shot.”

  Another man dropped to the ground in the street behind him. He must have hidden in the catwalk structure of the fire escapes hugging the buildings like old lace. The outline of the other man was highlighted in green for a moment before FLOYD, M flickered above his head. He trained a weapon on Harry’s back. The rain fell in a torrent, the heavens crying for what was to come. Lightning flashed across the sky. “Don’t move, Fuentes.”

  Harry froze, his body rigid. His company-issue armor, black and slick in the rain, glinted as he turned slow and smooth. “There’s no way out, Floyd. If you come in now—”

  “If I come in now, you won’t kill the right guy,” said Mason. “You’re reading this all wrong.”

  “There’s evidence.” Harry blinked, rubbing rain from his face, before looking down at the gun still in his hand. “You know, fuck it. I could just—”

  “Die where you stand? Yeah, you could do that.” Mason’s hand hadn’t moved a millimeter, water streaming from the barrel and his hand. “I don’t want to shoot you.”

  “That’s real nice of you,” said Harry. “I don’t feel the same way.”

  “Let me ask you one simple question.”

  “Okay,” said Harry. “Take as long as you need. Support’s on the way.”

  “No.” Something sad fell over Mason’s face. “That’s the thing. No one’s coming. No one’s ever coming again if you don’t let me do my job.”

  “I just talked to Lace. They’re airlifting in support right now. So, take all the time you want.”

  Mason shook his head. “Do you like Lace?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “The important kind.” Mason’s gun hadn’t moved, still pointed clear as an arrow at Harry.

  “Sure, it’s your dime. I like her. She’s a friend. A partner. Wouldn’t sell me out down the river for a percentage like some people I know.”

  “She’ll be dead in the next ten minutes. It’s why I’m going this way.”

  Harry shifted, the movement subtle against the rain, but caught on the camera all the same. “You’re going back to the Federate to kill my partner?”

  “No,” said Mason. “I’m going back to the Federate to kill my partner. So he doesn’t kill yours.”

  “Come again?” Harry shook his head, taking a step toward Mason, lightning flashing across the sky.

  “You heard me.” Mason walked toward Harry. The recording showed them closing the distance, the gun still between them. “It’s not the safest place in the world for me.”

  Harry laughed, the sound flat in the recording. “No, I guess not. How are you going to get inside?” Another step, closer again.

  “I’ll work something out.” Mason’s arm lowered slightly. “You know what your problem is?” Step. Step.

  “No,” said Harry. Step, step. “What?”

  They were almost close enough to touch now. Lightning flashed again, the image flickering in the storm, and Harry moved too fast for the recording to follow. His hand came up. Mason caught Harry’s weapon as it rose, holding the barrel, Harry’s arm trembling with effort.

  “Your problem is you rely on the lattice too much.” Mason’s teeth gritted with strain.

  “Really?” said Harry. “I’ve got a gun on you now.”

  “You’d almost think it makes us even.”

  Harry laughed again, short and sharp. “Mine really is bigger than yours, Floyd.”

  Mason seemed to shrug, the recording showing him tossing his weapon to the street. “There. Now you’ve got no excuse.”

  “No excuse?”

  “Not to shoot me, Fuentes. You’ve got to make a call. Shoot me, your partner dies. Take me back with you, we can stop this. Together.” Mason looked at Harry, trying to find something that wasn’t there. “Hell with it. I can’t do it by myself anyway. I need your help. Shoot, or come with me.”

  “What?”

  Mason shuffled closer, pushing his shoulder onto the barrel of Harry’s weapon. “Here. Take the shot.”

  “You know what your problem is?”

  “Why don’t you tell me.”

  “You’re too much of a damn arrogant son of a bitch.” Harry relaxed, and his gun barked, red and black blasting from the back of Mason’s shoulder. Mason spun from the force of the shot, his good hand slapping Harry’s gun aside. He continued to turn, a leg coming up and down, his foot breaking through Harry’s knee like it was kindling. Harry tried to stand as his lattice pulled him up on invisible strings. Mason’s fist slammed into the side of his head with the force of a falling piano. Harry went down cold.

  Mason bent over, rain falling harder. He picked up his sidearm, then almost as an afterthought he grabbed Harry’s weapon. Mason’s movements were slower, his insides broken. He jogged up the street, his shoes splashing through the puddles, dark red running from the hole in his back. He tossed Harry’s sidearm into a storm drain.

  The recording flicked forward a minute and ten seconds. Harry got up, looking around. The recording included link audio.

  “Lace?” Harry groaned.

  “Thank Christ,” she said, tone flushed bright with joy, quickly banked to company normal. “You sleeping on the job again?”

  “He’s coming to you, Lace. He says he’s going to kill you all.”

  “Right. Like he can get in here. You still believe in Santa Claus too?”

  “That’s what I thought too. Can you jack one of these cars for me?”

  “Sec.” A converted Chrysler on the side of the street beeped, running lights coming on. “You’re in.”

  “Thanks.” Harry pulled the door open. His leg dragged, and he had to hop and shimmy into the driver’s seat. “Lace?”

  “Yeah, Harry?”

  “Lock the door, okay?”

  “On it. Go get that motherfucker.”

  The recording clicked forward forty-two seconds, picking up from a different vantage point. It was an intersection. Mason ran through the rain favoring his side. The Chrysler car drove toward him at the speed limit. It didn’t have to rush. If Harry sped, he’d draw attention. A green wireframe dropped over the vehicle, the image zooming on the driver. Harry’s face was focused, intent on his target.

  The car drew closer to Mason. Mason’s face was drawn with the pain of his shoulder, pain blockers failing as he pushed himself. When the car was no more than ten meters from him it accelerated hard, kicking up water from the street. It must have caught Mason’s attention. Maybe the lattice picked up the difference in the sound. He managed to turn, bringing his weapon up to bear before the car slammed into him. Mason’s weapon fired, tearing a chunk out of the driver’s side tyre. Mason spun to land at the side of the street.

  The Chrysler struggled, the front rim carving through asphalt. The vehicle slewed, crashing into a parked car. It was hard to see on the recording what went wrong inside the Chrysler, but
light flashed from the inside. Harry tried to escape. His door jammed, a crumpled mess. Whatever was wrong with his leg stopped him getting leverage. The light burst forth again, an arc of electricity fountaining from the rear of the Chrysler, sparking in the rain.

  The recording zoomed in on the Chrysler, the text POSSIBLE FUEL CELL BREACH flashing beside it. Harry was frantic, trying to escape as red and yellow flickered into life behind him.

  The fire.

  At the side of the road, Mason tried to roll over. The impact hurt him, and he couldn’t move fast. The recording showed possible fracture locations in wireframe. Mason managed to get to one knee as lightning fired inside the Chrysler again, the recording’s audio cutting out as it peaked. Static flickered for a moment before the fire roared, the lightning continuing to coil inside the vehicle.

  Harry screamed, thrashing, slamming his hands at every surface. Just trying to get free.

  Mason pushed himself to his feet. He looked at the Chrysler for a moment, then up the street. The sound of Harry’s screams overlaid everything else. Mason took a step away from the car. His shoulders slumped, and he turned back to the Chrysler, the fire blasting out the windows, flames roaring high into the night. The rain boiled and steaming in the heat. Mason held a hand up in front of his eyes against the brightness of the fire.

  An explosion rocked the vehicle, metal tearing away. Fragments flew inside the car. The lightning stopped, but the fire didn’t. Mason threw a last look up the street toward the Federate, then ran to the car, pushing himself into the flames. His wet clothes ignited, burned to ash in a moment, and even in the grainy resolution of the recording it was easy to see the laminate of his skin blister.

  Whatever was left of Harry stopped making noise. Mason pulled the body from the wreckage, pieces of metal and plastic sloughing off. The body still burned, and Mason rolled him across the wet ground until the fire guttered out.

  The recording flickered green wireframe over what was left of Harry before labeling the husk UNKNOWN ID. Mason wiped an arm across his forehead, his own skin cracking as slices of charred and melted plastic fell to the ground. Something red and angry seeped from underneath. He stared at his arm for a moment before looking at the remains of the man before him.