Chaos Theory (6 page)

Shooting ranges were one of the venues protected under
Treaty10 and offered to citizens free of charge. Falling under the
physical activity section, it contributed to the general wellbeing
of the population alongside construction, composing, performance
art, and invention. Standard forms of recreation came from online
gaming, but physical activity outside the virtual environment was
considered fundamental to maintaining a healthy Human Condition.
These pastimes were law, and were believed to keep the people of
the Alliance from becoming dependent on technology and emotionally
barren.

“
You’re coming right? Christabella finally agreed to go on a
date. She’s got an amazing body, natural too, but I want you there
to help stimulate conversation. You’re a girl.” He added that last
part as if it explained everything.

Kali grabbed his hair and yanked hard. “Stimulate
conversation?”

“
Arrrh. You’ll have lots of stuff to talk about to keep the
evening entertaining. Ow. Kal, that hurts.”

Her suspicion was replaced by chagrin. With one last tug, she
released his hair. “You want me to play third wheel in case your
date is crap. Stars, aren’t we past this?”

Max grinned wickedly. “You know you want to.”

Kali rubbed her nose to hide a smile and ended up sneezing.
Lethargy made it difficult to concentrate. “Go alone and function
like a normal adult.” She snuggled down and gave him her back.
“I’ll be here. Sleeping.”

“
Move it.” He flipped the covers off and spanked her ass. “You
shouldn’t lie here depressed because you’re
undesirable.”

“
And look who’s talking.” She shoved back and pushed him out of
the bed, immensely satisfied at the loud thump. Kali kicked out a
leg and got comfortable. Bending the other at the knee, she curled
her hands under her chin, the covers gripped in her
fists.

“
Get up.”

Kali put a pillow on her head and flipped him off.

Max grabbed her ankle and heaved. Startled, Kali grabbed the
headboard and held on for dear life. Her stomach lifted off the
bed, and the rest of her body followed until she was taut, body
swaying dangerously as they battled. Max grunted. Kali squealed
when her nails scratched the bed frame leaving faint white marks.
He yanked in bursts to jar her arms.

Teeth clamped together, Kali held on, not entirely sure why
she had not conceded defeat.

“
Bella is annoying. There is no brain to mouth filter. Having
to suffer a prolonged period in her presence will be torture. She’s
an embarrassment to my gender, a stereotypical HiCaste Flush.
What’s with all that hair tossing and eyelash fluttering? Ugh. I am
not going.”

Max snorted. Going for the kill, he tickled the skin behind
her knees. Kali screeched and let go of the headboard to protect
the sensitive area.

Her shrill laughter had him in convulsions. “That’s a
seriously ugly laugh, Kal.” He dragged her off the bed, taking the
blanket with her, which softened her fall some.

“
Go away.
That hurt
.”

“
What?” Rolling her over, he sat, and pinned her to the floor.
He grabbed her foot and tickled. “Your ass really isn’t that
skinny. You bounced right back.”

She tried to push him off, and it might have worked if she
wasn’t in hysterics.

“
Oi, where’s your scar?”

The innocent question cut her laughter. She froze.
“What?”

“
Your inoculation scar. I always thought you would have it on
your ankle since it’s easier to hide. Did you get a
graft?”

Kali shoved him off her and sat up, crossing her legs. “Papa
doesn’t like enhancements.”

“
Well yeah, but inoculation is basic. It’s not an enhancement,
it’s just done.” He frowned. “You’ve been inoculated
right?”

No, she had not had her genes mutated, but she was under
strict orders not to tell anybody that piece of
information.

Max had gotten his mother to agree to sense modifications
though she had drawn the line at physical mutation. He already had
enhanced eyesight, night vision, and was planning to get
improvements to his hearing as soon as he had enough credit
saved.

Kali hadn’t had any genetic manipulation, including those
considered standard practice. That was rare for a HiCaste. Her
parents wanted no one messing with her DNA. Cosmetically was out of
the question too. Kali understood their point, unlike a tattoo or
piercing once your genetic markers were altered, there was no laser
to erase the change. Kali was aware her adoption wasn’t normal and
exactly legal. A number of prominent Alliance employees had been
paid off by Rikard’s family to ensure her origins were kept a
secret. It would also be shameful to admit you had adopted from
poverty, but Kali was likely born an orphan from a dead tree
LoCaste unit. For a while, she had wondered if Rikard suspected she
was a pureblooded Delphi. Crazy to consider, but his near obsessive
determination to keep her way from the shots had made her nervous.
He swore she had a mixed heritage, but that the inoculation would
not be compatible. His fears were not groundless. A small
percentage of those who were given the shot did die; StarChildren
had the highest failure rate, and her colouring was similar. Their
bodies rejected the mutated strings and their immune systems went
haywire and attacked their red blood cells.

“
Sure, I’m inoculated,” she lied.

Max fought a grin by sucking in his lips when she rubbed the
tender area he’d bruised. “You’re coming with me. Get dressed fast.
I ordered from Pluto’s, and the food will be delivered at the
range. We need to pick up Christabella at the shuttle
point.”

“
Cosmic.” She pointed to the door. “Out.”

He waved his TalkMe at her. “I’m going to bounce this feed to
the FloVe. We need to speak to this citizen about what you do. He
has answers.”

7.

Blue killed the purring engine on his FloBi. Booted feet hit
oily concrete with a solid thump as the hover bike set down. He
sighed and swung a leg off the bike. Swiping a thumb over the
underside of the handlebar brushed his OmniLock against the scanner
to genetically lock the ignition and stop another rider boosting
his property.

Blue strode into Pluto’s with a heavy footfall that only those
with real distracting shit to worry about understood.

The spicy tang of cooking dumplings sat heavy in the air, a
smell that would be delicious had he been in his right frame of
mind. Golden baked dough around bubbling cheese and succulent meat
fillings wasn’t the sweet fragrance his nostrils flared to. It
wasn’t why his tongue swelled and stuck to the roof of his parched
mouth.

He should have replenished before he left for work, but he’d
forgotten, a stupid and irresponsible thing to do.

Dangerous.

His stomach clenched in panic, and saliva slicked the walls of
his cheeks until he had to swallow repeatedly. He breathed heavily
in the confines of the helmet. His leathers seemed to shrink on his
body until the fabric sucked at his skin in parody of what he
imagined doing to the next available throat.

“
You’re late,” Dod noted. “Next time I’ll dock your
pay.”

His meaty fists pounded the creamy dough used to make his
legendary dumplings, rattling the work surface and the pots
underneath.

Pluto’s was unique. It was the only restaurant on ContinentOne
that made dumplings from scratch with real cheese instead of the
substitute. It took longer, cost more, but customers raved about
the taste.

Blue walked straight to the order board to pick up the next
delivery. He grabbed the boxes and turned on his heel, grabbing a
CredMac to read the receipt for the address.

He needed fresh air to clear his head. That helped when he was
breathless and sick.

Nodding jerkily to the people he passed, Blue sighed in relief
when the door slid open, and he stumbled out into the
night.

Minors loitered around his FloBi. They edged closer to the
vehicle, drumming up the courage to boost it. They scattered when
he strode over with an expression he’d been told was
‘freaky’.

He inhaled deeply and regained his calm.

The delivery was easy, the addresses minutes away. Too soon,
he was back at Pluto’s not knowing if he was calm enough to go back
inside. Blue pushed through another three orders before he was
sweating, and gritting his teeth each time he came within three
feet of a warm body. When his shift break came up, he dashed
outside and rounded the corner, seeking a place to take the
stifling helmet off, too shaken to check nobody was within his
immediate vicinity.

He was lightheaded, panting hard as his body fought to drag in
enough oxygen to breathe.

He was suffocating.

A minor turned into the alleyway. He paused when he saw Blue
leaning up against the dirty wall. There was a rustling of clothes
and a tinny click before the minor was moving again. His walk
canted to one side, and one hand sunk deep in his trouser pocket.
Stopping in front of Blue, the minor hovered a laser knife at his
damp neck. “Take out your TalkMe and transfer eight hundred credits
to username Jak113,” he hissed. His low voice trembled only once.
When Blue didn’t react, he hardened. “Do it now.”

Blue shook his head weakly, dragging in another rasping
breath. He made a shooing motion with his hand, giving the boy a
chance to flee.

The minor hesitated before stepping closer. The knife burned a
strip of Blue’s top. “Are you dumb. I’ll cut you.”

Blue groaned. He moved and in a blur of bodies, the minor was
pressed against the wall, the knife falling from lax fingertips.
Blue’s hand darted into his pocket and pulled out his emergency
syringe. He stabbed the needle into the minor’s jugular vein before
pulling the plunger.

Dark red blood filled the vial.

The minor was terrified, thinking his life was about to end.
Blue pushed at his mind, urged him to be calm, so he could
finish.

Nanoseconds passed as another vial filled, and Blue’s tense
shoulders relaxed. He’d get better as soon as he got this into his
system.

He once again dipped into the minor’s mind and sent a strong
compulsion for him to sleep. Holding the boy erect by pinning him
to the wall with his forearm, Blue reached into his pocket to take
out a pack of SkinAids. He placed a patch of the translucent skin
cells over the needle marks and watched as it adhered to the clammy
skin and closed the breaches. The wounds would have taken a few
days to heal naturally, but the skin graft would prevent infections
and troublesome questions.

Easing the minor down, Blue propped him up, and made it look
like he was resting. He put the dropped the laser knife back into
his hand and curled his fingers around it, to keep the curious from
approaching until he woke.

Blue transferred the credits the minor had wanted as a thank
you. He would usually go deep into the OutRim and offer money in
exchange for blood anyway. Most desperate people obliged him; after
all, it was just blood for an oddball, and the donation was given
in a vial he provided.

Blue had been too distracted, forgotten to
replenish.

Foolish.

He discarded the used needle and ripped open a hermetically
sealed packet to fit a new one. He injected the blood and the
light-headedness receded. The streaks of darkness across his vision
eased, and his breath came easy. His body felt revitalized, his
muscles able to flex without pain. His lungs could draw their fill
of air rather than burn for the lack.

Contemplative, Blue went to pick up the next
delivery.

Dod was on a break, reading his TalkMe. He snorted laughter
and his huge bulk jiggled with the amused chortle.

The delivery board was empty.

“
Nothing outstanding?” Blue asked hesitantly, not wanting to
draw too much attention.

“
Last order’s cooking. It’ll be ready to go soon. Quiet
night.”

Dod flicked him a glance then did a double take. It was rare
Blue took off his helmet, and the man was once again taken aback by
how Blue looked. He remembered how confused he was by the kid when
hiring him for such a menial job when he could be some HiCaste
woman’s plaything and earn triple the credits he did. Dod knew Blue
was smart, no matter how much he tried to hide it. Whatever the
kid’s reason for his lifestyle choice, strange enhancements, and
odd aura, Dod never had any problems with him. He was a solid
delivery boy, hard to find past Quadrant8.

“
Take a seat, might as well enjoy the peace as long as we can.”
The older man kicked a crate over and scowled when Blue hesitated.
“Pop a squat boy, creeps me out when you hover.”

Lowering himself onto the crate, Blue nodded in thanks. He
placed his helmet on his knee, his back stiff, expression
stoic.

Dod scrubbed a hand through greying hair. “Had any more
enhancements to that face of yours?”

“
No,” Blue replied.

He’d never had an enhancement in his life but was thankful
for their existence. They gave him a way to seamlessly blend. He
thought of the unconscious minor in the alleyway.
Well, perhaps not seamlessly
, he thought in amusement.