Chapter 6
WELL THEY’RE NOT BEING SUBTLE.” I inspect the charred remains of the tunnel, resisting the urge to scratch at the medi-gel on my shoulder and back.
The anaesthetising effects aren’t ideal—I’d prefer to manage the pain myself, maintain the feeling there if need be—but even with my somatic revs activated, the burns would have taken days to heal.
Days which, evidently, I don’t have.
Three hours since the explosion, and twisted pieces of the Loop pod still radiate warmth. The tunnel itself seems to have withstood the blast well enough, but the glass tube is completely shattered, and for now this section is pressurised. Not as if there’s a pod to run along it anyway.
“You sound disappointed.” Old Woman flicks at a smouldering piece of seat as she picks her way through the debris.
Less shaken than I expected from the close call.
Scraped and bruised, but she escaped the cooking I received.
Not that she seems very grateful for it.
Every time she catches sight of her bandaged right arm or puts weight on a mildly twisted leg, she pauses to give me a glare that indicates in no uncertain terms whose fault it is.
“Puzzled. Hacked volos and incursion teams are one thing, but a bomb… there’s no way they got this far, found this way in, only to rig your Loop pod.
Which means they must have attached the explosives on the city end.
” I examine the crater that seems to be the point of origin.
The charge was placed under the pod; other than that, I’m not really sure what there is to glean here.
Bomb scene analysis isn’t exactly my area of expertise.
“So why not have it blow up as soon as you got on board to come back to the house?”
“The last few trips have been supply runs, unpacked by bots. I haven’t been down here in person for months.”
“Must have been triggered by your scan. So there’s no telling how long the bomb was waiting there.” Since at least before her biosecurity caught the incursion team, I imagine. I rub my face. “You’re sure we can’t just get my AI in to—”
“No.”
Stubborn old mule. I have my suspicions, but a tech analysis would make me a lot more comfortable. “I don’t think this was meant to kill you.”
Old Woman surveys the smoking wreckage. “I’m going to respectfully disagree.”
“They were probably hoping,” I concede. “But unless they’re manually triggered, explosions are messy. They take some luck to hit a target. What they do well, on the other hand, is destroy things.”
Old Woman brushes her hand against what I think was part of the door, then rubs her fingers together as it crumbles to soot beneath her touch. “You think they were making sure I don’t have a way out.”
“These secure properties are hard to breach, but they’re also isolated. If you think you can get in, next step is to make sure they can’t get out. It’s what I would do.”
“Very comforting.” She winces as she limps to the side. Then glares at me again.
I shrug, continuing my inspection. The charge was carefully measured.
Just small enough to avoid blowing a hole in the surrounding concrete, which could potentially have revealed signs of the explosion above ground.
No chance of it summoning help from some eagle-eyed external source.
And the response team from the alarm was entirely robotic. No one else knows this happened, yet.
Clever. Annoyingly clever. I have a long two weeks ahead.
“How many people have you killed, Azure?”
I pause mid-step, mentally running the abrupt question over in my head to make sure I haven’t misunderstood. It was posed casually enough. The sort of thing I know a lot of people wonder, but no one asks. Of course Old Woman’s asking.
“I don’t know.”
“Nonsense.”
“Really.” I meet her gaze steadily. She’s looking for humour, or anger, or emotion of any kind. I don’t give it to her.
She just nods. An unperturbed, thoughtful motion. “Why not?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.”
“How many people you’ve killed doesn’t matter,” she repeats.
“It’s the job. I’m not proud or ashamed of the number, so I don’t keep count.” Feels weird to be having this conversation. Uncomfortable. But not so uncomfortable that I’m going to risk losing that file, no matter how unlikely it is that Old Woman can ferret out a lie from me.
Old Woman squints at me. Wisps of smoke still curling around her. “You’re aware that some people think killing other people is wrong?”
“So I’ve heard.”
“And that doesn’t bother you?”
“A lot of people think that people being allowed to live forever is wrong, too.” I reach out and steady her as she stumbles over a piece of debris. “Sixty-five percent of Themis. Around eighty of Oceanus, and Phoebe, and Crius. What I do wouldn’t be legal, otherwise.”
Old Woman brushes me off and gives a disapproving grunt. Not that surprising. Few with her kind of wealth—the kind that live out here, in places like this—enjoy being reminded of the megacities’ DeGov systems. “So you only kill lifers?”
“I only kill Proscriptions.”
“Just people who are profitable to kill, then?” Said with absent curiosity rather than condemnation.
“It’s the job,” I repeat, a little irritably. “Not much of a living in it if it’s not profitable. And besides—the Keres make those decisions, not me.”
“Of course they do, dear.” Old Woman continues to sift through the charred remains of her Loop pod, then sighs. “Are you going to be able to get anything from this?”
“No. It was thorough.”
“That it was.” Old Woman gazes around interestedly. “That it was.” I still don’t know whether she has a complete misunderstanding of how close she came to death, or she’s just getting used to the experience. Either way, she’s remarkably composed.
“How long until you can get it repaired?”
“Back to being able to launch from this end?” She shakes her head. “All the drones along the line are for maintenance. Minor issues, cracks. They can do it, but it’ll be slow. Days at best.”
I was hoping otherwise, but no surprise there. “Closest road?”
“That’s useable? I don’t know. Maybe fifty kilometres?”
Great. And a volo is out; if whoever wants her dead is being this thorough, there’s no way they’ll have ignored her most obvious point of egress. “I need a map of the area. Sat photos, as recent as you have. Then I need you to show me your biosecurity. Everything you can.”
“Now?”
I open my mouth to say yes, of course now, and then hesitate.
Old Woman is swaying on her feet. She’s been nearly blown up, thrown somewhat violently through the air, and all this on a body that I honestly would have assumed couldn’t take a firm slap on the back.
Plus it’s two, maybe three in the morning.
Not an issue for me with my revs to keep me alert, but she doesn’t have anything like that advantage.
“Morning is fine.” We’re not at the running stage anyway, not yet.
It’s concerning that someone knew enough about the setup here to sabotage the Loop, but nobody’s made it through the EMP ring yet, let alone into the house itself.
A panicked run for the city will only benefit whoever wants Old Woman dead.
She smiles at me. It’s a weird smile. Pleased. Almost smug. “Thank you.”
I ignore her. We leave the smouldering ruin of the pod for the much more pleasant atmosphere of the house. The hidden door snicks shut behind us, sealing with a soft whir as we start up the aquarium-lit stairs.
“I’ll show you to your room.”
“No need. I don’t really sleep.”
Old Woman glances across at me, and for a second there’s a sort of sorrowful pity in her gaze that I find distinctly uncomfortable. Then it’s gone, and she snorts. “What else are you going to do?”
“I’d like to look around a little more. Examine those pipes you mentioned, plus make sure there aren’t any other access points.” And while I doubt she’s left anything lying around, maybe try and find out what the hell she knows about my past—or how the hell she knows it.
“Fine.” I suspect she wants to argue, but she’s too weary to string the words together. “You’re already registered as a guest, so the house will respond if you need anything. Except ’net access.”
Bah. “Thank you.”
“ ’Night, dear.” We reach the top of the stairs and she pats me almost fondly on the arm. “Good job not letting me die today.” Wanders down the corridor, toward what I assume are her own rooms, without anything further.
I watch her go. My stomach, apparently deciding it now needs attending to, growls.
I head back to the kitchen.