Jonathan Bond - The Terminus experiment

They stepped onto the platform, Sinunu pushing Rachel gently into a crouch in the center of the group. From there she could cover Rachel as well as her field of fire without obstruction.

Rachel watched as the small elven woman pulled a slim, golden rod from a long pouch at her back.

Then they were on the lift, and without any of them doing anything, it rose quickly and silently into the air.

Her first thought as they came out of the darkness and into the light was that they were on stage. For just an instant, it reminded her of some of the rooms at The Tiger’s Lair, where she had worked most of her teenage years as a cocktail server.

Woo Ling, madame of the Lair, had paid a truckload of nuyen to have a circular room constructed where the girls performed with each other and with any customers who were into exhibitionism. People could walk around the outside and watch through the glass, picking the girls they liked or just enjoying the show.

That was what went through her head as the platform came to rest.

“Sky one-eighty clear!”

“Ground one-eighty clear!”

“All clear!”

The others had moved off the platform, and were continuing to cover their fields of fire, but Rachel had stopped noticing them, had in fact stopped breathing. She stared at the still form on the floor, at the tiny trickle of blood seeping from the back of his head.

Scrambling out from under Sinunu’s protective stance, she moved forward on her hands and knees until she was over the body. She pulled him to her. “Warren?”

Rachel looked down at the unfamiliar face, and then up at the runners. “Hey, this isn’t Warren.”

Flak stepped toward her “What are you talking about?”

Rachel pushed the man away from her. “This isn’t Warren. Can I make it any plainer?”

Sinunu stepped up behind Flak. “You sure?”

Rachel felt frustration bubble up through her. “Am I sure? You gotta be kidding. I’ve seen Warren naked almost every night for the last six months. You think I wouldn’t know him?”

“Fraggit!” said Flak. “Sandman, what kind of drek is this? The target’s been switched.”

Sandman’s voice sounded hollow over the tacticom. “You’re drekking me.”

“Does it Sound like I’m fragging drekking you? Find him, and find him now.”

It only took a few moments, during which time Truxa took a look at the still form. “He’s actually in pretty good shape,” she said. “What do we do with him?”

lust then Sandman’s voice came back. “Sorry, Flakman. I can’t find your boyo anywhere else. You sure that’s not him?”

“Positive.”

“Then I suggest you get the hell out of there, because things are getting hot.”

Rachel thought her heart was going to burst when she heard that. “We can’t go. Not when we’re this close. We’ve got to find him.”

Sinunu was at her shoulder. “it’s no good. We got no recon, we got no intel, we got nowhere to even start looking. Best to pull back and try the run again from another angle.” Rachel knew Sinunu was right, but it still hurt. Everyone hustled toward the lift, when a voice from above them said, “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

The men had done an excellent job, there was no doubt about that. Even the Mobmaster was running completely silent, its welded, crash-bar wedge plowing trash and dust out of the way as the convoy rolled through Hell’s Kitchen.

Julius sat next to Biggs, who sat directly behind the rigger running the Mobmaster, Biggs wore his heavy combat helmet, its dark visor pulled down for thermographic vision. With the blowing dust, Julius couldn’t make out a thing around them, and knew he had to trust the rigger’s skills.

Julius wasn’t interested in the scenery anyway. He was staring at the tiny image on his portable telecom, and the anger surging through him was making the screen shake.

“And you listen to me, brother,” he said. “I don’t know what you have in mind here, but I know where my son is, and I’m going to get him. You don’t like that, we can talk about what the hell you’re up to when I get back. Until then, there isn’t anything you can say to make me change my mind.”

The face on the screen looked grim. “Julius, listen to reason. I’m telling you, somebody is playing you for a fool. Warren isn’t out in Hell’s Kitchen. He’s somewhere dockside. Come back, and lets do this right, not go oft half-cocked to flatten some little facility out in the middle of nowhere, full of people who have no clue why you’re coming after them.”

Despite himself, Julius had to smile at the image. “Tell you what, if I’ve made a mistake, I’ll apologize. However, I know I haven’t made a mistake.”

From beside him, Biggs spoke, “Sir, the decker’s got site layouts. They’re coming up on the front screen now.”

Julius looked at Marco again. “Got to go. We’re almost on top of the target, and we’re just getting last-minute details.”

“Wait! There are things you don’t know- Julius watched as the entire left side of Marco’s face seemed to expand and contract violently, and a line of white spittle trailed from his mouth to leave a track of blackness down his chin. Marco’s neck muscles bulged until it looked as if they were going erupt right through his skin.”

“Damn it, Marco! Are you all right?”

Even on the small screen, Julius could tell that his brother’s entire body was shaking and trembling. “Marco, talk to me.”

After a few seconds, the tremor passed as quickly as it had come. Marco slumped toward the screen for a second, then righted himself with obvious effort. “Damn,” he said, in a suddenly tired voice. “That was a bad one.”

Julius looked closely. Marco’s left eye was filled with black blood that spilled over his lid and tracked down his cheek. He wiped at it with a curled fist, like a child wiping away a tear.

“Marco, I told you that needed to be checked, and now it’s getting worse. You need to call that doctor of yours. Tell him what’s going on. Find out if there’s anything he can do.”

Marco shook his head. “I already have, and he’s looking into it. But let’s get back to the point before you do something that will jeopardize our operation here.”

Suddenly Julius was sick of talking to his brother, sick everything to do with the family, with the corporation. The only thing he cared about was Warren and getting him back safely.

“Marco, shut up.”

The Look of shock and anger on Marco’s face was frightening. In a low, cold tone, he said, “I think the stress has made you forget yourself, little brother.”

Julius laughed. “I haven’t forgotten anything, big brother. I haven’t forgotten that if it wasn’t for you, my son wouldn’t be out here in the middle of nowhere, with some insane thing that wants him dead just to hurt you. Remember the trideo recording? This whole thing is because of you. So just shut up. I’m going in, and this conversation is over. You want to try and stop me, you go right ahead. You’ll find out just how far I’m willing to take this. And considering your delicate position, I think you just better sit tight and let me do whatever I want. Is that clear?”