Son of Sedonia (11 page)

“It—it was all my idea, sir. Corey was just following my lead...it wasn’t his fault.”

“
Your
idea? Liani, I think you’d better explain,” said Kirnden, steepling his fingers. He almost leaned back, but quickly straightened. Shifted uneasily in his seat.

“You’re always saying how field reporters need to be more aggressive. I thought I might be able to get a piece of the meeting or something on audio. Corey just distracted the guards while I tried to get in, it wasn’t his fault!” She fidgeted in the thick quiet of the room. Kirnden stared at her.

“And did you?” Kirnden asked.

“Sir?”

“Did you ‘get a piece of the meeting or something on audio’?” He leaned forward. The purple lips seemed to moisten. For a moment, Liani thought she’d found her way out, but seeing the look on his fat plastic face brought the words back to her.
An
‘open-door relationship.’ He would rush the recording to Sato for a pat on the head, and they’d toss me over the Border. Or worse.

“
No. No sir...I couldn’t get into the meeting hall.”

“Ah,” Kirnden said. He pivoted in his chair. After a moment, he reached up and touched a panel in his Neural display.

“Security,” he said as a uniformed man appeared on screen, “please escort Ms. Ray and Mr. Burrows to their desks to collect their belongings, and see to it that they vacate the premises immediately.”

At the Superway platform, Liani sat holding the cardboard box of random desk junk in her lap. A hairbrush, makeup kit, breath mints, and four big bags of Guatemalan dark roast...her prize possession and very tricky to get a hold of.
Better than sucking down that synthetic-tasting shit from the break rooms.

The other employees’ desks were covered in family pictures, non-funny annual calendars, squishy stress reliever balls, and all kinds of other crap. Too much to deal with. Liani had read in an article somewhere that the ambitious should always remain agile, take risks, and pack light. Less than six months at GloboMetro and she’d moved desks three times, all in the upward direction. Now, as then, she had little to carry.

Angry tears streamed down her cheeks. She hated each one.
The weak little girl fucked up and now she’s crying. Pathetic.
She cried harder, clenching her perfect teeth. Approaching footsteps flipped a switch and Liani stifled a final sob. She sat up straight and wiped her bleeding mascara. Corey came lumbering up next to her, sweating like a pig as he grappled with the massive box of his belongings. The arms and legs of several action-figures peeked out of the top. He set the load down on the superway bench next to her and nearly collapsed into it.

It wasn’t supposed to make her laugh. The look on his face was one of exhaustion, frustration, and suffering...but that clenched it. Her angry tears turned into sobbing, coughing laughter. Corey squinted at her over the top of the box, panting and trying to force words out between gasps.

“S-stop it! It’s so creepy when you ‘laugh-cry,’” he said, pushing his box on the bench to make room for him to sit. Liani scooted down a bit but was almost pushed off the edge. It set off another giggle-fit as Corey plopped down onto the seat. They made eye contact. Liani’s hair had blown up in a ball of frizz and her eye pits were stained blue-gray. Corey was pale and pouring sweat from his buzzed head. They both burst into laughter.

“You—you look—”

“How I feel!”

The two of them could barely breathe. Their throats ached by the time the fit died to exhausted silence. A superway rail train shot past them, leaving its characteristic sour metal odor behind. Its shape disappeared down the track into the ocean of downtown lights. Minutes passed with only the roar of the City in the air. Corey sighed.

“Liani...thanks,” he said.

“Thanks? For what? Getting you fired?”

“Not what I meant...but maybe, yeah. It’s about time I had an excuse to get outta this pit.”

“Well, you’re welcome and congratulations,” she said, staring at her tiny, highly-portable box.

“I was thanking you, dummy, for speaking up to Kirnden and trying to help me...albeit exactly what I told you
not
to do. Took guts.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I couldn’t stand the idea of letting you be the hero and having that guilt follow me for the rest of my career. Am I brave for wanting to spare myself? You’re Mr. Chivalry, not me.” Liani picked at a frayed corner of the box and contemplated walking to the end of the platform to throw it off the edge. Corey sat bent over, rubbing his hands together. He shot a few sideways glances around the area.

“Do you still have it?” he spoke in a hushed tone. She reached into her purse and pulled out a tissue. Wiped her nose with it.

“And if I do?”

“Listen...” he leaned in close, “I’ve still got friends in some indy circles who might be able to do some good with it. Maybe even—”

“No fucking way, Corey. You saw the look on his face! Kirnden knows I was in there. What do you think happens when a recording of the whole damn thing suddenly surfaces on the Net? I get suicided, is what. Probably in some Sway overdose in my apartment or a ‘tragic mechanical failure’ that crash-lands me in the Slums to be dragged away for god-knows-what!”

“Liani, it could save
thousands
of lives!”

“Bullshit, Corey. They’ll find us, discredit us, kill us, and
bury
the truth. And I’ve had enough martyrdom for one day.”

“Shame,” Corey said as he stood up, “so what then? I guess you’ll destroy it...”

“I—I will. I just...”

“Why not now? Get rid of the thing and save us both.” Corey stared her down as she reached into her purse. Her fingers closed around the memory stick. She withdrew it and looked up at him. In a heartbeat, she stood up on her high-heels and stormed off toward the Superway platform. He trotted after her.

“Li, wait! Please!” She didn’t turn or break stride until she reached the edge. The 76-story drop from the GloboMetro Plaza to the ground below made her head swim. She staggered back a step, the memory stick clenched in her fist. Corey caught up and steadied her by the shoulders.

“Christ, Liani! Come on...” Corey said. She trembled in his hands, clutching the chip. It would be so easy to just toss it.. Forget the whole thing. But the plastic stayed glued in her palm. She bit her bottom lip. The low hum of another superway train approached. It rushed up beside them and stopped.

“I’ll take it, you don’t have to—” he stopped as she jerked out of his grasp.

“No,” Liani said, tucking the chip deep in her purse, “No, I have to think about this.” She turned as the train doors opened. Stepped inside.

10

Duty

KABBARD FELT LIKE
he was on the wrong side of the briefing. He should be sitting out there with the officers, leading one of the squads...not standing up on the platform next to Commander Gorman. But that time had passed. And all the gym memberships in the world hadn’t kept Kabbard from losing his edge.
This is my place now
. He took a breath at the silent reminder. The hangar of EXO HQ filled with the nervous chatter of the men as they sat with their squads. Pilots, infantry, medics, and specialists. More than a few leaned to each other in whispers, pointing at the former Sergeant.

He’d had some oversight through the planning stages of the Raid. Basic goals, timing, structure... But the commanding officers had reluctance to listen beyond that, and he didn’t blame them. Better that the missions be scoped by the ‘boots on the ground’ than the ‘suits in the Tower.’
I’m a suit in the Tower...
The soft, designer jacket and slacks suddenly chafed him.

“Easy, John,” said the Commander, privately, “This is necessary.”

Kabbard nodded. The data the Commander had shown him was conclusive. The T99s had been busy, setting up labs all over the Slums. And not the Sway-cooking variety. Bombs big enough to disable Border towers had been confiscated over the past weeks. A clear threat.
So why the fireworks in my gut?
It must have been all the rookies.

The labs were so spread out and so heavily defended that the EXOs didn’t have the numbers to pull it off. Not all at once. The only way to fill the ranks had been to fast-track a few hundred kids out of Red Gate Academy. Their young, eager faces filled the crowd, jawing excitedly as they sat equipped in full Aug kit.
It’s reckless...they need more time.

“TEN-HUT!” said one of the acting Sergeants as Commander Gorman crossed to the podium. Kabbard stood up out of conditioned reflex. Noticed that the entire hangar stood too. Vets and rookies in perfect unison. Part of the weight lifted. Discipline was a start, but it had to be proven in the scrap, ashes, and dirt. And blood.

“At ease,” said Gorman. Officer Vaughn took his seat with the other recruits. His pale skin throbbed softly beneath the humming Augmentors. He’d worn Full Kit thousands of times back at the Gate, but here, the hyper awareness seemed to spread his heartbeat through every nerve.

At the far end of the hangar, the engineers prepped the IG-8 dropships and A39 fast-mover gunships in a din of noise. Vaughn ran a trembling hand over his fresh head of grunt stubble. Scratched the back of his neck. His grades were never that great, and he was decidedly average in the exit physical.
What am I doing here?
He couldn’t help but think it over and over. A sudden tap on his shoulder actuator snapped him out of it.

“
Hey man
,” one of the other recruits whispered behind him. Vaughn turned. An over-caffeinated junior classman. The squad readout in Vaughn’s Neural placed the name ‘Dreivan’ above the kid’s ridiculous high-and-tight hair.

“Look! It’s him!” Dreivan said, pointing to the stage.

“Him who?” Vaughn whispered back.

“Kabbard! Sergeant John
.
Fucking
.
Kabbard!” said the kid. Vaughn squinted at the stage. There he was, alright. The man who basically wrote their textbooks in addition to having been the most notorious EXO on the force since the Border Offensive. A legend in the flesh...though there was more flesh on the man now than in the archive pictures and vids.

“
SHUT THE FUCK UP! BOTH OF YOU!
” hissed Sergeant Shima, whirling in his seat. The man looked like an psychotic jack-o-lantern when he was pissed. Vaughn snapped his eyes front. This vet had a reputation too. A hell of a temper, and a tendency to go just a little nuts on certain missions. Luckily First Sergeant Mason had also been assigned to their squad, presumably to keep things level. Vaughn had ended up in one of the only squads with two vets. The fact soothed his jangling nerves. Sort of.

Vaughn’s Neural beeped a notification in his inner ear, and a vast glowing map of the Slums appeared overhead. Big enough to hover over the entire regiment. Vibrating lines of light rendered the topography and major neighborhoods of Rasalla. Commander Gorman cleared his throat.

“This, as you know, is the Rasalla District. The largest single district in the Slums, separated into thirteen major zones. Tonight, we’ve gotta hit ‘em all,” Gorman said. One to three sections of each zone were the target areas, highlighted in yellow. Thirty squads for thirty targets.
A ‘smash and grab’...on the whole damn District...

“Each squad,” continued Gorman, “will be simultaneously dropped via RaDVert into their GPS designated target area at 0400 hours. Once on the ground, you will have
fifteen
minutes
to get into position and wait for the Big Go. By 0430, primary prisoner and ground-force extract should be completed! The longer we stay, the greater the risk of casualties. The name of the game today is
prisoners,
boys. Live, undamaged ones. We go in with spurs, drop the suspects, load ‘em up, and get out.”

“Sir!” Sergeant Shima raised his hand. The Commander sighed. Nodded.

“Sir, are we to understand that we’ll be hitting Rasalla
without
live ammo?” Shima asked. A low muttering wave spread over the men. The lack of respect rubbed Vaughn the wrong way, but he wanted to hear this too.

“Calm down, Shims,” said the Commander, “
No one
goes into the Rasalla District without brass jackets, but they are
last
resort,
End-of-Times
only!
This goes ugly if the metal starts flying. 0430 hours. Drill it into your skulls. Now, each target will require specific, dynamic tactics to neutralize, so pay close attention to your vets and squad leaders. God bless you all. Dismissed!”

Vaughn watched Kabbard approach the Commander and immediately start talking. It looked serious.

“Vaughn!” Shima yelled. Vaughn jumped and turned. Realized that the squad was filing out of the rows. He scrambled to pick up his helmet and follow. Shima fell in beside him on the way to the ships.

“There he is, huh? That’s what you’re thinking? There’s the all-wise, all-knowing John Kabbard...” Shima said. Vaughn thought it best to stay quiet. Shima continued. “Forget that fucking sell-out, son, he ain’t coming with us. You got your head on straight? Or am I gonna have to worry about you...”

“Sir, no, sir!” Vaughn said what the man wanted to hear. But he wasn’t truthfully sure.

“Good. I don’t need you rookies comin’ loose after your first RaDVert...it ain’t exactly like the Neural sims.” Shima quickened pace to the front of the squad, making himself the first to enter their IG-8 dropship. Its broad, curved belly shimmered with the light-bending camo that would reflect the sky above in any weather and any time of day.
‘Rapid Descent Vertical Insertion...’
It had been a screaming Hell even when it was just a projection into Vaughn’s brain. A long ramp led up to the officer compartment, above the ‘cargo hold.’ Vaughn felt another hand on his shoulder. He turned, expecting the rookie from before.Instead, he met John Kabbard face-to-face. Rumor had it that the scar on the former Sergeant’s cheek came from a bullet graze. A T99 punk had Kabbard dead to rights with a gun barrel under his chin...but the Sergeant knocked it aside, discharging it as he ripped the punk’s throat out. Without Aug gloves.