Scion

Chapter 35

“AZURE?”

“Yeah?”

“You seem pretty calm about all this. Even for you.”

The volo hums its way through the virulent glow of Themis, swooping over other drones and transports and between the bland, well-lit facades of tall, sleek buildings. We’re in Caelum, well past the danger area for high winds, and digiglass displays flash eye-searing advertisements everywhere.

“It’s fine. That perfusion loop you set up should keep the cells from getting damaged for at least forty-eight hours.” I ignore the familiar surrounds, studying the cut on my left wrist. Clean and sealed. “Or, closer to forty now, I suppose.”

“Not about the hand. Well—about the hand too, I guess. But more about… you know.”

“Me maybe being a Dupe?”

“Yeah.”

I sigh. “I mean, it’s not great. But even if I am one? Not much I can do about it.”

“That’s… true.”

“Not much more to say, Atti.” I examine the inside of the volo. Everything plush and sleek. Say what you will about them, the Keres spare no expense for their agents.

“I know I keep saying this. But you could still run.”

I waggle the stump of my arm at the cam. “I feel like that would make me indecisive, at this point.”

“Well we wouldn’t want that,” she mutters.

“You just don’t want me dying and leaving your ownership in a mess.”

“So? You have responsibilities now, Azure. What even happens to me if you don’t get out? Do you know how annoying it would be to have to redistribute those shares, without DeGov realising I’m acting with self-determination?”

“The risks we take, Atti.” I dismiss the byplay as the volo banks and the Keres building finally slides into view.

A single, sleek, twisting digiglass tower, its faces advertising all the latest Ten-O-Ten contracts available for crowdsourcing, with indicators showing just how near they are to activated.

So many people regularly put their Basic toward those. As if it’s a civic duty.

The Keres are so screwed when I get this damned file.

The volo pauses for traffic above and then rises smoothly.

I briefly see the face of the man I killed a few weeks ago flash up on the structure, so enormous thanks to our proximity that his giant eyes seem to be peering in at me.

FULFILLED! flashes in green as he slides past, his portrait fading to greyscale.

A little explosion of colour comes from the words as he disappears again.

“Azure?”

“Yeah?”

“I have system access, but they’re about to scan you.”

“Alright.” I exhale. “See you on the other side.”

I tap the q-com off, then remove it from my ear and grind it beneath my foot.

The hum of the volo fills the silence for a few minutes as its ascent slows, and an opening slides away in the side of the shining black building.

I squint in the light that sears through as the volo door hisses open.

Sunrise. Not something you often get to see inside a megacity.

The tech and tokens needed to allow natural light to filter this far beneath the Plate, even to this height, is excessive.

“Passphrase.” The woman who greets me is augmented, one of her eyeballs replaced with tech that scans me as I alight.

I don’t recognise her. A small drone swerves up to me and I extend my left arm, allowing it to inject the serum that nullifies my revs.

The woman doesn’t blink at the sight of my missing hand.

My already-fading cogs prickle, just enough to draw my attention to the two ceiling-mounted Pulse turrets which are adjusting slightly to my every move.

“7-A-X-4-L.” I act a combination of bored and more than slightly impatient.

Information about the Dupe itself was predictably off-net, but thanks to the raw of the DeGov scrape I got Chandra to send through, Atti was able to figure out Crimson’s internal ID and response codes.

Nothing helpful on Jasa or the Pactum file in the scrape, unfortunately—but at this point, bypassing the check here was all we really needed.

And even allowing for the chaos of my former employers losing Atti’s protection only a day ago, it’s been surprisingly easy to do. The Keres, it turns out, have been relying an awful lot on tech for their security.

“You went off script.” Calm, but I can see that glowing blue eye of hers watching me down to a cellular level for any sign of violence.

“I did the job. I wasn’t going to let that monstrosity get away again.” Infuse it with a bit of pent-up anger, just like every word I ever heard out of Crimson’s mouth.

The drone bothers me again and I extend my arm a second time, letting it take a sample to ensure the serum has propagated. A moment, and then Blue-eye seems to get some sort of confirmation because she jerks her head in a clear indication for me to follow, and starts walking. I do.

The turrets glide almost silently, and quite menacingly, along the roof after me.

Outside the hangar, the offices of the Keres are fairly standard.

Nice, of course. Very nice. All tall ceilings and glass corridors and natural lighting and fountains and tasteful greenery for the people who live and work here.

It’s early, but I still see a few of the Keres’ employees, most wearing that slightly bleary, I’ve-just-woken-up-and-can’t-remember-exactly-what-I’m-doing expression.

Wandering between their apartments and the cafeteria, probably, at this early hour.

They all seem to rouse a little and give us a distinctly wide berth once they see me. Whether it’s the disdain of spotting someone in the distinctly shoddier clothes of the street, or the turrets sliding along behind me, I’m not quite sure.

I’ve been here a few times before as Azure, and this threatening escort is new. Either the Keres are using an abundance of caution—probable, given the past couple of weeks—or I’ve missed an identifier, and they know it’s really me.

Or, I suppose, Crimson is just a hell of a lot more volatile than me. Given even our relatively brief interactions, I’d probably want a couple of death turrets on hand when it arrived, just in case, too.

It’s not long before we reach a large office; Blue-eye makes a gesture and the glass that forms its walls becomes completely opaque, the dark grey sealing away the other empty offices on either side.

Despite the enormous amount of floor space in here, there’s just a single desk with a standard terminal, and a single chair behind it.

“Wait here.” Blue-eye closes the door, leaving me alone.

I look around. Those turrets are still watching me, but I don’t have to worry about them. Otherwise, there’s not much else to the room. I slide around the desk and sit myself in front of the terminal. “Atti?”

The screen flickers as she deals with the layers of security that were presumably in the way.

Yeah. Here, appear the words on the screen in big green type. The cam in the corner lets her listen in but there’s no audio in here, apparently. Annoying.

“How is it in there?”

Quiet so far. As soon as I have to countermand the local neural, though, they’re going to know I’m here.

“How long for countermeasures to purge everything?”

Ten minutes. Maybe twenty if we’re lucky. Looks like they’ve added more off-net security in the past twelve hours, too.

“Told you you should have gone earlier.” I lean back in the chair and stretch. It’s well-padded, really quite comfortable.

Too risky. If they’d figured out what was happening before you were in…

“I know.” I sigh. “So. Doesn’t look like they’re bringing me upstairs. How far do I have to go?”

You’re on 104. Schematics on screen now.

“Thirty floors?” I moan the words as I lean forward and start tapping away at the terminal one-handed, examining the diagrams flashing up.

It would have been much better to have had these a few hours ago to study properly, but Atti was right: we couldn’t risk the Keres noticing the intrusion too early.

“Atti, that’s so much climbing. And my leg still hurts. ”

Don’t get injured next time, then.

“Hey! That was not my fault, and you know it. You needed to—”

The door opens. Two assured-looking men in sharp suits walk through, followed closely by Blue-eye. I ignore them, keep working away at the terminal.

“What are you doing?” The first man, I can see from the corner of my eye, is scowling as he takes me in. “That terminal should be locked. Stand up immediately.”

Without taking my eyes from the screen, I pause long enough to hold up a finger to indicate that he needs to wait, and then resume my rapid one-handed tapping, checking for anything that might be concerning about the makeup of the building above us.

Oh, he’s not going to like that.

The man mutters a disbelieving curse, takes two steps toward me threateningly. “I know who you are, you filthy grounder, and I don’t care. Get out of my seat. Now.”

“But then where would I sit?” I ask absently. Grounder? The insults up here really could do with a little bite. I flick to the next floor in the list. Almost done.

I can feel the outrage burning from all three across the desk.

They’re Important People, clearly. Or at least, they certainly believe they are.

The second man shoves his way past the first, coming to loom over me.

He’s muscular, quite big really. “You are under contract, Crimson. We all know what you can do, but you’ve been given your Suppressors.

You’re no stronger or faster than the rest of us.

And this room is entirely soundproofed. So if you don’t stand up in the next five seconds, I am going to make sure you know your place. And you don’t want me to do that.”

Ah, perfect. They still think I’m the crazy version of me. “I’m not too worried.”

“Why’s that?” The massive man smirks, and cracks his knuckles.

There’s an electronic whirr. A kind of compression in the air, a soft “pop.”

The large man’s body slumps to the ground beside me, minus his head. Which, given what I know of how a Pulse cannon works, is presumably sprayed very thoroughly over the floor and digiglass wall behind me.

“And, done,” I say with a final, emphatic tap on the screen, though it’s drowned out a bit by the shouting and screaming of the other two in the room.

Blue-eye is shrieking override codes, I think, though she’s incoherently panicked enough that I’m not sure they’d work even if Atti wasn’t in control of the system.

The man is hammering at the door, which is locked.

“Wow, you two are as bad as lifers. Calm down. Things aren’t so bad.” I stand and stretch. Point at the other man Blue-eye brought along with her, who raises his hands as if I’d aimed a Gauss at him. “Can you get me access to Floor 132?”

He stammers a laugh. “One thirty-two? You know that’s exec, right?”

The Pulse cannon smears him into a corner of the room. I point to Blue-eye.

“Can you get me access to—”

“YES! Yes, yes!” she gasps.

“They changed the security yesterday. It needs local verification.”

“I know. I know. I have access. DNA and passcode.”

“What about the elevator?”

You’re so lazy, I swear.

“Yes! Of course. I can unlock it. Easy,” she wheezes, sounding like she’s in the midst of a heart attack.

I watch her closely, silent for a few long seconds. “Alright,” I say eventually, smiling reassuringly at her. “Off we go, then. And do try to look less… you know.” I gesture to her generally terrified state. “We wouldn’t want anyone to try and stop us, would we?”

Blue-eye, to her credit, takes a few shaky breaths and then pulls herself together enough to seem passably calm.

I assess her, then wave my hand and the door slides open, just long enough for Blue-eye, me, and the turrets to get through.

Atti, smartly, shuts and locks it again before anyone can wander past and peer in.

“Lead the way,” I tell Blue-eye cheerfully.

We walk in silence, back much the same way we walked from the hangar, to a set of elevators. Blue-eye, true to her word, verifies and punches in whatever overrides are necessary into a newly fitted data pad, and steps back. I examine the screen.

The lift is, indeed, cleared for 132.

She looks at me, and her expression very clearly asks if I’m going to kill her now she’s done what I needed her to. I think about it.

“No,” I say eventually, my happiness at not having to climb a stupid amount of steps swinging the decision in her favour.

“No point. But I’d hate to cause a stir down here, so you’re going to have a friend for a while.

” I gesture at the turrets behind her head.

“Just to make sure nothing goes wrong, avoid any misunderstandings, that sort of thing.”

She nods, pale and drawn and drained and somehow grateful all at once.

I hit 132 on the data pad. The doors hide her and the Pulse cannons from view, and then I’m rising.

“Not bad,” I say, looking up into the cam.

“WE DID PRETTY WELL.” The voice booms out around me. Deep and masculine, almost growling.

I choke. “Atti? What in the hell was that?”

“STUPID ELEVATOR DOESN’T HAVE A MODULATOR. BEST I CAN DO.”

“You sound like you’re going to try and consume my soul.”

“SHUT UP.”

“Yes, sir. Anything you say. Please, just don’t hurt me.” I hold up one hand and one stump in brief mock surrender. “How long since we arrived?”

“THIRTEEN MINUTES. YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE STAIRS.”

“Nah, I’ve already tested everything. All working again,” I assure her. “How’s it all looking?”

“THEY HAVEN’T FIGURED OUT THAT ANYTHING IS WRONG YET. CLEAR PATH BACK.”

“Yeah, I bet that won’t last.”

“I’LL HANDLE IT. LIKE I ALWAYS DO.” A pause. “I SWEAR SOMETIMES I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHY YOU’RE HERE.”

I grin as the elevator’s upward trajectory eases. “You know what, Atti? Majority shareholder command. Keep the voice for an hour or two.”

A long silence, then, “I HATE YOU.”

The doors slide open, and I walk out onto Floor 132.