Melissa Scott - Trouble and Her Friends

“Not good enough,” Cerise said.

“What exactly am I supposed to do?” Trouble asked.

“Keep him talking,” Mabry answered. “Buy us time.”

“How?”

“He said he wants to negotiate,” Mabry said, “so negotiate. Offer him—whatever it is he wants, I suppose. No, offer passage out of the country, then we can haggle over how and where. Try to keep his mind off the nets. He’ll probably have demands of his own, anyway, so see what they are and we’ll go from there.”

“Great,” Trouble said. “I’m not a fucking negotiator, I don’t know what I’m doing—” And I don’t want to get myself killed, not by the Mayor, not after I’ve won—not for The Willows, anyway.

“He says,” Mabry said, “and I emphasize I don’t know if if’s true, but he says he has a line to the local nuke. He says he can override local controls, cause a catastrophic failure.”

“You don’t think he does,” Trouble said.

“No.” Mabry’s face twisted in a grimace half of frustration, half of rage. “And I don’t think Starling does, either. But it’s fucking useful for him, gives him access to all of this.” He gestured broadly, the sweep of his hand including the tanks and the fire engine and the huddling cops. In the distance, Trouble could hear the beat of a military helicopter, sweeping down from the base to the north. “And I—we can’t afford to take that chance.”

He was right about that, Trouble thought reluctantly. She tilted her head, looked up at the Mayor’s building: just another cheap Seahaven rooming house, paint peeling on the sides where it was less likely to be seen. The Mayor’s windows, uncurtained, unshaded, unlike all the others in the building, turned blank glass to the street. I should say no, she thought. Starling’s just trying to use me, use this threat to get me to do what he wants, maybe even get me killed, just like he’s used it to call out all this, local cops and state and God knows what all else. It was all but impossible to get into a nuke’s internal systems, even for the Mayor—they were built to stand up against all intrusion attempts, there were cutouts and realtime requirements, and the crucial systems were supposed to be completely disconnected from the nets. But if they weren’t, if the Mayor had gained access… He was just crazy enough, just desperate enough, to try something, and no one could stand by and let that happen. She shied away from the image that presented itself, out of ancient video, smoke billowing from a broken dome, radiation fires smothered in concrete; that wouldn’t be what happened, not quite, but the area would be poisoned worse than it already was. And no one had ever honestly calculated the probable deaths. She looked back over her shoulder at Starling, still standing in the lee of the unmarked police car, conferring with Levy and a man in armor, not knowing whom she resented more, the Mayor or Starling himself.

“You’d still be better off with me running the nets,” she said.

“I don’t doubt it,” Mabry snapped. “But that’s not the deal.”

Trouble took a deep breath. “I want complete immunity, all charges past and present dropped.”

“Done.” Mabry nodded, with decision. “I will see to it personally.”

“And for Cerise as well.”

“Agreed.”

“He’ll fucking kill you,” Cerise said. “Trouble, don’t do it.”

Trouble looked at her, swallowing her own cold fear. “Look. He’s one of us, a cracker, a netwalker. Since when did we start carrying guns?”

“I did.”

“You weren’t exactly representative.”

“Neither’s he.”

“That was a long time ago, and in the city. And it’s not the same. If’s not the Mayor’s style.” Trouble took another long breath, tasting salt and the ubiquitous oil. The air was thickening, fog swirling in from the sea: not a good time for that, she thought, and automatically squinted upward, looking for the helicopter. It was still there, a dark shape against the white sky, but when she looked east, the outlines of the beachfront buildings were already blurred. “He doesn’t gain anything by killing me—”

“Except personal satisfaction,” Cerise snapped.

“Yeah.” Trouble shivered, told herself it was only the first wisps of fog. “But he loses his chance to walk out of here.”

“Do you really think Starling would let him walk?” Cerise asked. “Do you really think he thinks Starling will let him walk? Trouble—” She broke off abruptly, the rest of the sentence unspoken. I’m not losing you now, she would have said, not again, and this was not the time for declarations.

“But if he really can get into the nuke?” Trouble said.

“There’s no way he can,” Cerise said. “No fucking way.”

Trouble looked at her, and Cerise made a face, answered her own question. “Except he’s the Mayor, and if anyone can, it’s him, and we can’t take that risk anyway. Not on this coastline.” She sighed. “All right, do it. But I’m coming with you.”

“He said alone,” Mabry interjected. It was no more than a token protest, but Cerise turned on him anyway.

“So get me in there without him knowing it, sunshine. I thought you people were supposed to be good. And I want a gun.”

“All right,” Mabry said. “Let’s go.”

They followed him down the narrow street, Mabry careful to keep the line of parked cars and runabouts between them and the rooming house. The cops, local and state, clustered in twos and threes behind the inadequate barricades, looked up as they passed, but their expressions were invisible behind the dark-tinted faceplates. Starling came to meet them, Levy and the armored stranger—probably some kind of senior police officer, Trouble thought, just from the amount of braid and badges, but she recognized only The Willows’ insignia among the clutter—following a few steps behind.

“Well?” Starling asked, and Mabry nodded.

Trouble said, “I understand he wants to talk to me. Is that right?” In spite of her efforts at control, her voice came out too loud, uncertain.

Starling said, “That’s right. I gather you’ve agreed.”

“I want all charges past and present dropped,” Trouble said, “for both me and Cerise.”

“That can be arranged,” Starling said.

“I’ve agreed to it,” Mabry said, mildly, and Starling’s lips tightened momentarily.

“All right.”

“Now,” Trouble said. “Just what is it you want me to do?”

“I just want you to keep him talking,” Starling said. “Distract him while we isolate him on the net, so that the rest of our people can move in.” He nodded to the fire engine. “We’ve got a sniper team there. They can take him out as soon as we’re sure the nets are safe.”

“That wasn’t in the plan, John,” Mabry said.

“You’d be better off letting us run the nets,” Trouble said, without much hope. “We’ve beaten him before.”

“No, thanks,” Levy said.

Starling said, “It’s you he wants to talk to. There’s nothing I can do about that.”

“But there are some things you can do about protection,” Trouble said.

Starling waved his hand again, a broader gesture taking in not only the snipers but the men crouching behind the lines of cars. “You’ll have backup.”

Except when I’m inside, Trouble thought. But the men in the fire engine’s bucket would provide some cover, as much as she could reasonably expect.

Cerise said, “Yes. Well. I’m going with her.”

Starling frowned, and Trouble said, “It’s not negotiable.”

“He said alone,” Starling began, and Mabry shook his head.

“It can be done, John. It’s better this way.”

“And I want a gun,” Cerise said.