Mainline (56 page)

He ran into the antechamber. The man he had thrown remained motionless on the floor, but Harric's office beyond was empty. A side door gaped that had been closed just minutes before. Had Reva come this way?

He went through, into a service corridor. He heard weapons fire from down the hall, and moved cautiously toward it.

"Back me up, Flash!" Nomad yelled over his shoulder. "I'm running out of juice!"

A slick-faceted panther came too close to the lockout grid, and he loosed a blast at it. Then a decker in the form of a silver knight nailed him in the torso with an acid-orange beam, a disrupter program similar to his own weapon.

The energy hit him with a shattering electrical charge. His blue wire-frame chest bleached through green to washed-out yellow. Data blackouts began as he recoiled from the hit. Virtual reality melted away, leaving him in IntSec ops, jacked into his deck; then the ops center vanished as backup circuits struggled to hold him in the Net. The virtual grid flickered back into sight, its red bars sliding open one by one, freeing the tunnel mouth as enemy netrunners overcame the security lockout.

Nomad retreated to FlashMan's position.

"Couldn't hold 'em ..." he squeezed out.

"You alright?"

"No." Nomad staggered to his knees as the last of the lockout grid faded away. He saw a glass-black panther rush by to spring at FlashMan. A second ICE construct slammed into Nomad's back and drove him to the ground on his face. He glimpsed Flash

driven backward as well, data leads ripping from his head. Panther jaws closed upon the lightning-form's chest.

In the body, Nomad thumbed his emergency disconnect.

Nomad could hear before he could see again, though his language centers were scrambled and the sounds around him made no sense. Something pricked him in the neck; when objects swam into sight once more, an op center medtech was leaning over him with tabgun in hand. Nomad sprawled on the floor, shot full of brainstim, one smoking rigger lead dangling from his burned-out cyberdeck in the console nearby.

Commander Obray pushed through the crowd, squatted by his nearly fried decker. "What happened?" he asked sharply. Emergency aborts were rare.

Nomad mouthed words before they made their slurred way from his mouth. "Flash friends 'tacking Harric. You wan' cartel, move fast. Harric's running."

Obray looked to a lieutenant. "Scramble a raid party. Now."

Karuu was numb. Events conspired to kill him and all he could think of was what he
couldn't
do. Couldn't hide, not inside Harric's estate. Couldn't risk getting shot, as long as Janus kept a gun on him. For once his inventiveness was failing him. At this rate it would amount to his death.

Could he run for it—? Shouts and gunshots in the hall cut that line of thinking short. He and Harric's lieutenant exchanged a startled look, then both came to their feet as MazeRats burst into the room from Adahn's office. Sparing no attention for the fugitive Dorleoni, they charged ahead, out the other door, into the hall, sheltering behind the door panel to fire upon intruders who were coming at a run.

Adahn came on their heels, mouth opened to order Janus. His mouth stayed open as he spotted Karuu.

"You!" he shouted at this convenient outlet for his rage and frustration. Karuu quailed, but the crime boss was upon him, the man's meaty hands clamped tight about his stubby neck. Harric spared a glance at the doorway where his MazeRats had not yet

cleared the exit for him, then shoved Karuu back against the wall. He shook him like a scrap of cloth.

"All this shit started with you, you motherless turd!" Harric screamed red-faced. Before he could do more the door panel was blown down the hall and a concussion wave staggered everyone in the room. Lean, wiry commandos leapt over dead MazeRats in the doorway, and Harric whirled to face them, swinging Karuu about with him. The Holdout was swept through the air to dangle tiptoed before the crime boss, Harric's left arm about his neck. He struggled to pant for air.

Janus had dropped his gun and was ducking behind the desk as the last man stepped into the office. He was taller than his comrades, and clad in a spacer's gray coverall. He held only a needlegun, but his eyes widened as he recognized Harric from security pix. He brought his weapon to bear.

Before he could complete the motion Karuu saw Harric's right arm thrust forward with unnatural speed, palm out as if to halt the man.

"Don't move!" Adahn barked.

The intruders hesitated, for they saw the same thing Karuu did: the base of the man's palm swiveled downward, revealing the large-bore muzzle of a scatter cannon. The cyberweapon was installed in place of a forearm, housed in synthflesh that served Harric as an ordinary arm would. The bizarrely lethal device could blow away the cluster of commandos and the far wall in the wink of an eye.

"You're escorting me out of here, past your perimeter guard—"

With Karuu as a shield. To have his neck snapped as soon as he was no longer needed, of course.

The Holdout twisted his head toward his captor's beefy fist, close beside his jaw. Maybe this was a cyber-arm, too.

Maybe it wasn't.

The Dorleoni bared his tusks and struck. Ripping teeth sank into human flesh, and met in the middle of a very human hand, crunching finger bones that obstructed the way.

Harric let out a deafening scream and tried to yank his hand from Karuu's maw. Shiran Devin fired. Explosive-tipped needles ended Harric's outcry with abruptness and a spray of gore.

The falling body pulled Karuu to the floor with it. There he lay, jaws in a death-grip, face to face with a wide-eyed Janus, as renewed gunfire caused their attackers to draw back.

"Let's get out of here," said Adahn's former lieutenant.

Karuu couldn't have agreed more.

Reva
walked softly down the corridor, resisting the urge to run as she watched for threats or danger. If she lost her concentration, she'd be back in Mainline or some nearby reality, maybe without the breathing space to shift away again. Her advance was cautious and slow, and she scanned the Lines ahead as best she could.

That's how she saw Devin.

The surprise of it threatened to drive her from that chancy balance point, plunge her unprepared into Realtime. She shut her eyes, held on to that center carefully. When she was secure again, she looked down the hallway once more.

At the end was an intersection, and across it ran the spacer. Several Devins, in several Realtimes: in Mainline he advanced behind Eklun and a handful of Skiffjammers, running down the hall, kicking in doorways and securing rooms as they came.

It was foolhardy and bold and incredible. She wanted to laugh with giddy relief. She had never needed or wanted help before, but it wasn't an offer she'd turn down right now.

The spacer and a handful of 'Jammers moved out of sight. She heard them shoot open the door to an office and flood within. Reva shifted down into Mainline, and hurried ahead to join them.

In the hall behind her Yavobo grinned fiercely and began to run. He moved in a sprint, abandoning stealth to close the distance between them.

The sudden rustle of motion behind her alerted Reva, and her heart leapt into her throat. She forced herself not to waste one precious second confirming what she already knew in her gut. Like a slow-motion runner in a nightmare, she tried to flee, willing muscles to accelerate, to carry her away from danger—

The hunter's dash that could bring a running keshun to ground caught Reva handily. She felt a weight drive into her from behind, something between a tackle and an overbearing rush. If she landed flat out, her enemy on her back, she would be at his mercy. She tried to angle her body even as he bore her to the ground, twisting

so that she could bring her vibroblade into action.

The movement was futile. Yavobo's arm was around her waist and he slammed her down as she fell, left shoulder and head impacting the floor at the same time.

The world vanished in a flare of crimson pain. Vision receded for a moment, and Reva struggled to cling to consciousness. Yavobo flipped her over onto her back, sat atop her while she lay helpless, momentarily stunned.

He didn't even bother to pin her arms. Her left one was useless, waves of pain from the wounded shoulder a steady counterpoint to her racing pulse. Her vibroblade was clenched in her right hand, the straw clutched by a drowning woman. Yavobo seemed contemptuous of it. He held his own metal blade casually near her neck, within her line of sight.

Her breath came short and labored with the weight of the enemy upon her. Her nightmare confronted her, the relentless killer, the unstoppable machine. Like an echo of the person she had been, one who wouldn't quit until her target was dead.

She swallowed down nausea, and did the only thing left to her. She fought.

She drove toward his ribs with her blade that could slice plassteel without effort. He was ready for her, his arm twisting out of the way, hand striking down toward hers, long fingers wrapping around her fist and bringing it forward to squeeze, squeeze until she released the weapon. Small bones ground together in her hand and tortured pressure points shot fire up her arm. His iron grip compelled her to drop the weapon.

Unhanded, the monofilament wire went inert and tumbled to the floor beside her. Yavobo smiled and put his knife to her throat.

She faltered, the movement of his weapon a deadly fascination. Maybe it was just retribution. Revenge on her, as she had wanted on Lish's murderer. Or thought she wanted, for she was torn with the need to put the killing behind her. She used to believe she was only taking ghosts out of ghost Lines. She knew differently now.

Then she met the gaze of her stalker, and she realized the difference between them. The bloodlust in his eyes told the tale.

It was a look she had never worn. Never.

It wasn't moral superiority, really, but it was a difference. It made what was happening not so just after all. Something she could resist, still
wanted
to resist.

Yavobo gathered himself, the muscles in his neck and shoulder flexing. In a heartbeat he'd slice her throat and that would be the end of it. But it didn't take even that long to use a flechette caster.

He had kept her hand immobilized in his grasp. Her fingers were already straightened, from the harsh grip upon them. Reva hyperextended a muscle, and felt the flechette plate's three segments lock into one straight piece.

She flexed the trigger finger, once, twice, three times.

His eye was the most vulnerable part of his face, less than a hand-span away from her weapon. At such close range the mono-molecular edge on the fiechettes speared through orb and skull and penetrated his brain. The minor charge they carried was more than sufficient to terminate his life.

Yavobo's eye dissolved into ruin. He wore surprise on his face as he fell to one side of her, dead. Like Lish.

It may have been self-defense, but it was hardly just another death. She rolled away from his body, nursing her wounded shoulder, and was sick beside the wall.

Devin followed Sergeant
Eklun into the hallway, advancing under covering fire as 'Jammers tried to clear persistent MazeRats from their exit route. An exchange of fire scorched the air through a corridor intersection. For the moment, the advance of each group was blocked.

Reva pulled herself unsteadily to her feet. She took in the energy bolts stitching the air at the end of the hall, and turned to retrace her footsteps. There was no way to reach Devin through that killing fire.

She skirted the warrior who had nearly meant the end of her, staying in Mainline as she moved. She was too spent to walk the Lines, or even to look moments ahead through various Nows. She could only hope there was no greater danger than Yavobo ahead of her.

She found Vask stirring on the ground, and relief flooded through her. A scalp wound matted his hair with blood. He had a concussion, maybe worse, but he was alive. She helped him to his feet; they leaned on each other for support as she pointed the way out.

Adahn's office was empty, doors flung open on every side. Beyond one door was another office, and past that a hallway where Skiffjammers moved. Reva steered that way, and helping hands took them in. While Zay burrowed into an emergency medkit, the MazeRat fire from down the hall ceased. Shouts and running feet told the story confirmed moments later by a scout: the enemy was falling back. Someone else was on the scene, flanking the Rats, and soon to flank them.

Internal Security.

The time taken to regroup in the hallway was just long enough for Reva's fatigue to catch up with her. Her shoulder wound continued to bleed; pain from the traumatized injury was blurring her vision. She was growing weaker than she cared to admit. Devin helped her walk, sometimes run, as Eklun directed their retreat, using his comhelmet's HUD display to track their location on security maps and floor plans. He took them through a maze of service corridors and galleries to sheltered garden colonnades where their vehicles were parked in concealment.

Then they were piling into overloaded air cars, and lifting from the ground. Reva and her companions were sheltered from sight by the palatial bulk of the residence, not spotted by Bugs until they were aloft. Security, occupied with MazeRat resistance, spared desultory shots and a single pursuing vehicle for the fleeing 'Jammers.