Chapter 1 #2
“Safe for now,” replied Marcan. “Is the kiosk too heavy for your talent... Shit!”
In the holo, Jaffasso drew a small beamer from his belt and shot Ringo in the head. Marcan threw herself at Jaffasso’s legs to knock him down while scrambling for a weapon of her own. When they landed, his beamer went sailing into a puddle of oily sludge.
Metal shards on the floor rose and arrowed their way toward Marcan’s back, but couldn’t penetrate the flexin armor she wore under her clothes.
A beamer flash charred Jaffasso’s left knee. He screeched in pain.
Marcan’s body lifted and flew back nearly a meter. She twisted to roll as she landed.
Jaffasso shot her with a stunner, hitting her unarmored hand. She jerked like a fish on a line, then fell back. Stunners disrupted mammalian nerve messages for minutes, and flatlined most minder talents for minutes or hours.
Jaffasso sat up and leaned toward Marcan, wincing as he grabbed his thigh. “Give me Charrascos, and I’ll let you live.” He spoke quietly, but the camera skulking near Marcan’s ankle picked up his words.
Marcan’s head turned with an uncoordinated jerk to face Jaffasso. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the defiance on her face spoke volumes. “Suck plasma.”
Jaffasso shook his head. “You’re willing to die for a fucking reporter?” His lips twisted in disdain.
In the wider view on the holo display, the figure of Jaffasso aimed his stunner toward the shuttle. “Charrascos!” His shout echoed in the station. “Marcan and I are hurt. We need your help!”
A cold shiver ran through her. Without the stark evidence from her cameras, she might have been tempted to respond to the desperate sincerity in his voice.
Kicking herself for not thinking of it sooner, she quietly used her wristcomp to send a multi-band distress signal to the police, emergency medics, and the public transportation security.
To Novo G, she sent a segment of the recording showing Jaffasso murdering Ringo.
As extra insurance, she streamed all her raw imagery to her own encrypted space and a backup net.
In the holo, Jaffasso’s expression hardened.
His body began to rise, floating in midair.
Obviously, he was much more than the CPS Institute-washout, mid-level telekinetic that his background check indicated.
Only high-level talent and advanced training enabled a teke to raise his own body in full gravity.
Arco couldn’t match his talent, but maybe she could distract him long enough for help to arrive.
She directed three of her larger cameras to make a triad, then fly toward him at top speed.
She directed two more smaller ones to swoop toward his face and blaze their little lights at the last second.
He swatted at them, cursing, then howled when the triad bounced off his charred knee.
He dropped to the floor and landed on his ass with a thud.
Unexpectedly, Marcan flopped awkwardly onto her side and curled her knees up in a protective position. Jaffasso snarled and shot her head with his stunner. Marcan’s shielded rain hood sparked as her head jerked forward. Her hands fumbled at her boots.
Arco directed the blood-covered camera triad to fly at Jaffasso’s temple, but he ducked. The triad veered sharply and shattered on the floor.
Marcan rolled gracelessly toward Jaffasso’s legs and used both hands to impale Jaffasso’s thin thigh with a forceblade.
Jaffasso screamed with rage. Marcan’s body slid away fast across the wet floor for twelve meters, toward the shuttle slot. She covered her head, meaning her elbows took the impact with a sickening crack that Arco didn’t need her cameras to hear.
The holo image showed Jaffasso pulling the forceblade out of his thigh, above his ruined knee. Blood spurted once and continued to pulse.
“Charrascos!” His shout echoed in the empty, ruined station. “Come out, and I’ll make it quick. If I have to come after you, I’ll skin you alive.”
Arco knew he was baiting her, but she couldn’t stay silent. She subvocalized and sent it to the few larger cameras that had speakers. Her words seemed to whisper from every corner of the room.
“Your thigh is bleeding out from your femoral artery. And sit on that forceblade and spin.”
His expression hardened. “You first.”
Some of her cameras reported high winds, and she realized he was using his talent against them.
She quickly ordered them all to find solid surfaces and stay still.
Even a top-level teke should have trouble finding the tiny stationary objects in a room full of debris.
Nonetheless, Jaffasso managed to smash a few on the rubble-strewn floor.
An emergency medical siren sounded in the distance and grew louder. Jaffasso hesitated a moment, then dropped the forceblade and holstered his stunner. He pushed himself up onto his good knee, yelling as he forced his bloody leg under him. His jaw tightened as he pulled himself upright.
In the holo, a segment of pipe with a jagged end rose out of a debris pile and flew into his hand. He used it as a cane as he hobbled toward the gaping hole in the wall. Strobing shadows across his ashen face highlighted the grim determination there.
The decision on whether or not to try to delay him was taken out of Arco’s hands when his improvised cane slipped on the rain-slick floor.
His wounded leg collapsed under him. He thrust his hands out, but couldn’t prevent his head from landing hard on a sharp plascrete shard.
The rest of his body stilled, like he was sleeping with the cracked pedestal as his blood-coated pillow.
She directed the cameras to Marcan’s unmoving form. They detected shallow breathing, but the unnatural angle of the woman’s head meant the impact had compromised her neck.
Arco wished bravery were in her skillset. She took two slow, deep breaths and steeled herself to get up out of the filthy, wet trough. Just as soon as she stopped trembling.
A harshly bright floodlight swept into the station, accompanied by an amplified voice. “Police! Nobody move!”
Luck had brought her one of the better Ridderth patrols. The usual practice was to shoot first and stonewall any questions later.
Tears stung her aching eyes. Who was she that made others sacrifice so much for her?
She closed her eyes tightly, pretending for a moment that she wouldn’t see the blood and deaths for the rest of her life, but of course, she would. Her minder talent for remembering everything guaranteed it.
After a long moment, she started to order her cameras to return, then thought better of it and left them where they were, recording everything and auto-sending it to her data vault.
No sense trusting she’d also lucked into the few Ridderth law enforcement officers who didn’t hate journalists or weren’t on someone else’s payroll.