Digital Plague

XXIII Day Nine: I Can’t Even Imagine Why You’re Still Alive Now

Leering at Happling with my wrists bound behind me, I was snugly secured to the seat as we waited for liftoff, held in place so tightly I had to regulate my breathing to avoid choking myself. Happling, face almost purple, stared at me from the seat directly across from me, so near our knees were touching. I wondered if he was going to stroke out right before me. Hense was to my right, but I couldn’t turn enough to get a good look at her. From what I could tell, she’d closed her eyes and gone to sleep.

The Stormers were seated all around us on the perimeter of the hover cabin, headgear off, smoking cigarettes. I didn’t like looking at them, with their weird, ghostly bodies and their normal, sweaty heads.

My hands were going numb. I distracted myself by trying to figure out where Ty and Mr. Marko were hiding themselves.

I had no doubt they were on the hover-Techies couldn’t survive without their tech, their black boxes and endless, snaking cables, the guts of one machine soldered into another. Considering that for hundreds of miles in any direction there was nothing but creeping wilderness and some untamed Monks, when I put myself in Ty Kieth’s huge, soggy brain it was pretty obvious he’d head for the one place where he’d be in control: the hover. For someone like Ty, wiring into a standard government hover was child’s play. I wouldn’t be surprised to discover he was already controlling the damn ship.

I looked back at Happling. His jaw was working feverishly, bunching and unbunching as if he were chewing something. His eyes shifted right and his face turned even darker, and then Bendix was at my elbow, holding a large digital clipboard in his good hand. He stood there staring down at us for a moment.

“Complaints, Mr. Happling?” he said. Happling’s head jerked around and up, the cords on his neck bunching out as he fought against the tele-K’s pull. “If you don’t want your neck broken, keep your bullshit on simmer, okay?”

“Stop calling me mister,” Happling growled. I could hear the straps on his wrists creaking. “I am a Captain in the System Security Force, you piece of shit. You don’t have any authority over me.”

Bendix flipped his clipboard around, the screen lighting up. “You have been released, dishonorably, from the SSF, Mister Happling, along with your friend here, and handed over to Undersecretary Ruberto’s authority. This is a copy of Marin’s memorandum, if you care to read it.”

Happling stared at Bendix. The air around him had gone quite still.

“He burned you,” Bendix went on, flipping the clipboard back around. “So quit your bellyaching. Unlike Mr. Cates here, I don’t need you.”

“Did they explain to you that you’re a dead man, that you’re dying right now?” I asked, smiling.

Bendix smiled back. “Yes, Mr. Cates, I am aware of the risks involved in contact with you. Unlike these two pieces of shit, these traitors, I am not going to kidnap you in a pathetic grab at a few more days of life. I am happy to sacrifice myself for the good of the System of Federated Nations.”

“Holy fucking bullshit,” Happling muttered. Bendix’s eyes flicked to him, and then Happling screamed, his whole body tensing up as he struggled wildly with his restraints. The Stormers all shifted in their seats, watching.

“My training,” Bendix said slowly, “has been very thorough, Mr. Happling. I can break bones without touching you, so please be quiet.”

He turned to look at me as Happling continued to shiver and choke across from me. “Mr. Cates, I’m bringing you back to be dissected and tested, so we can solve this little problem and put it behind us. You probably won’t survive this process. I know you were granted a pardon of sorts by Director Marin as part of your dealings with him, but the System has technically been in a state of emergency since the Monk Riots, and it is completely within Undersecretary Ruberto’s authority to declare you property of the state.”

I nodded. “We’ll see how patriotic you are in a few days, kid.”

Bendix smiled, his face twisting in various contradictory ways. Behind him, Happling’s face had gone a shade of reddish blue that didn’t look healthy. I had to hand it to the government-they apparently knew how to train their tele-Ks.

“I think you’ll be dead before me,” Bendix said, tucking his clipboard under his arm and turning away. “New York isn’t a secure area at the moment,” he said as he strode away. “Once we’re in the air we’ll be heading for Washington, where a team has been assembled to analyze you, Mr. Cates. So you know that no remnants of your organization will be on hand for any bullshit.”

I watched him exit the cabin, the hatchway popping open as he approached and snapping shut as he stepped through it. Showy bastard, I thought. Happling slouched forward, sucking in an endless, shocking breath as his face returned to an almost normal color.

I leaned in so close I could have licked his ear. “We have to gain control of this hover.”

The big man was sucking in air desperately, his chest heaving. “Are you fucking crazy?” he gasped. “We’re restrained. Disarmed. Surrounded. By Stormers. With a goddamn. Spook.”

“And if we end up in Washington on this hover, we will be dead. Shit, you will probably be dead somewhere over the fucking Atlantic. I can’t even imagine why you’re still alive now.”

Hense spoke, her voice rough and blurry. “Because we’re surrounded by SSF, and even a jackass like Bendix is afraid to kill two cops in cold blood in front of them.”

I flashed back to a Vid show announcing that the civilian government was resurrecting the military, and suddenly thought it made sense. Every branch of government needed to be able to kill the members of the other branches. It was how things got done.

“Hey.” I lunged forward and hit Happling lightly with my head. “Pull your shit together. We have to gain control of this hover.” I had no idea how we were going to do this, but knowing for a fact that you were a dead man if you didn’t move soon was a great motivator.

He glowered at me from under his eyebrows. “Fucking hit me again, and-”

“Kill me later,” I said. “Kill me after.” I glanced at Hense. “I think our Techies are stowaways.”

Her head twitched slightly, the tiniest movement toward me. “How do you know?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think. Ty Kieth is the key to our survival. I think he’s hiding on this hover. Now get your heads out of your asses, officers, and help figure out what to do.”

I didn’t think Hense was going to respond, that maybe she’d had the fight kicked out of her. Then she nodded curtly, looking me in the eye. “All right, Avery,” she said. She held my gaze for a moment. “You never give up, do you?”

I shrugged my eyebrows, picturing Glee and thinking I’d love to give up. For a moment it was just Hense and me, and I knew she understood at least one thing about me, because she was exactly the same: we knew only one way. She scanned the cabin, looking at all the Stormers, who looked back at her expressionlessly. Finally she oriented on one, a round-faced veteran, maybe twenty-five, receding hairline shaved close, his face pale and glistening with sweat. A crappy filterless cigarette dangled from his lower lip, burning, forgotten.

“You,” Hense said, her voice suddenly the clipped, projected colonel’s voice she’d perfected. “I know you.”

The Stormer looked down and took the cig from his mouth. After a moment he nodded. “Yes, sir. Was on the team in the Bronx a year ago. Beatin’ on the Kabeer Gang in the bowling alley.”

Hense nodded. “Your name’s Kiplinger, right?”

The Stormer didn’t look menacing anymore. He looked embarrassed. “Yes, sir.”

“Don’t fucking talk to her,” a round-faced girl snapped. She was red cheeked and healthy looking, a big girl who was comfortable in her skin. She spoke in a stretched drawl, as if she liked tasting the words. “And don’t call a busted ex-officer sir, eh?”

Hense waited a few beats, keeping those terrible eyes on Kiplinger and ignoring the girl completely. “You know this is bullshit, trooper. You know you’re being played by the Spooks. We’re SSF. We’re cops. You’re going to side with the fucking Spooks?”

Kiplinger studied his cigarette as if the secrets to the universe were contained in it. “We were assigned by direct order of-”

“Fuck the direct order,” Hense said, her voice rising in volume. All the Stormers were staring at us now. “This is bullshit. We are SSF. That freak in there is not a cop. You don’t think this shit stinks?”

“Fuck you,” the round-faced girl said, taking a breath between the words, looking right at Hense-which I could personally attest took balls-and blowing a strand of her limp brown hair from her face. “You were burned by the Worms, eh? You’re not cops anymore.”

Hense turned her head with a birdlike, precise movement, her eyes on the girl, who tried to stare back but looked away after a moment. It was hard, I guessed, to forget that Gold Shield. “We were? We were? What’s your name, trooper?”

The girl studied her fingernails. “Name’s Lukens,” she said, visibly stopping herself from adding sir to the end. “You want my digits, too, Colonel?”

“Trooper,” Hense continued, “if the King Worm burned us, where are the Worms? You really believe Internal Affairs decided to fuck us and then sent the fucking Spooks to collect us?” She looked back at Kiplinger. “Use your fucking heads. You’re being played. And when Marin finds out what’s going on here, none of you are going to survive the encounter. If nothing else, he’s going to have to delete all of you to keep this sort of embarrassing bullshit quiet. Police, helping the fucking civvies fuck with police.”

Some of the Stormers were looking at each other. They didn’t like this. I could feel a new tension in the room-hell, I was starting to feel outraged, listening to Hense’s clipped, commanding voice. I glanced at Happling, and he was sitting up straight, breathing loudly through his nose. He looked like a man who could burst through his bonds with a shrug.

“Kiplinger,” Hense barked, “get the fuck over here and release Captain Happling and me.”

The Stormer was looking at the floor miserably. “Colonel, I-”

Hense sat forward as if willing him up. “Trooper, when this shit hits Marin’s desk, the King Worm is going to be angry. He is going to be pissed off, and if you think any of you are going to survive the experience, you are fucking sadly mistaken. This is fucking treason. We are police, and that freak up front is not, but you’re taking his orders like a fucking faggot because he has a scan of a fucking memorandum? Are you seriously that stupid, trooper? Fuck you, then. Once we handle this situation, I’m going to personally break you and ship you off to Chengara, trooper, where I’ll keep you on ice until shit settles down and then I’ll take some goddamn vacation and spend a few weeks there pulling your teeth out and breaking your fingers.” She turned her head to the Stormer next to Kiplinger, a younger woman with frizzy black hair and a bad, greasy complexion. “You, what’s your name, trooper?”

“De Salvo,” the Stormer stuttered, dropping her own cigarette.

“You know what’s happening in New York, trooper?” Hense demanded. She was perfectly calm and still, her eyes the only part of her that were animated.

De Salvo blinked, her face slack. “Disease. A plague, or something.” She shifted in her seat. “It’s turned up in Philly, too.”

“Baltimore,” one of the other Troopers rumbled.

“Fuck, I got a sister in Baltimore,” someone else muttered. My mind tripped over that. I’d always assumed the System Cops were assembled somewhere, soldered together.

“Forget that,” Hense snapped, raising her voice. Everyone went silent. “This is fucking treason. This is civil war, troopers. This is the Spooks setting shit on fire and making us chase our own tails. We’re not the only officers in hovers right now, being carted off on phony orders. They’re making their move against the SSF. If the SSF is pacified, who’s going to stand between them and the System? This is a coup, De Salvo. You know what a coup is, or did your education end with handjobs and yes, sir?”

The whole cabin was silent. The Stormers, including Kiplinger, were all looking at Hense. Some were even nodding. My own heart was pounding, thrilled at the fantastic, huge lie Hense was spinning. It was a piece of goddamn art.

“You have a choice, trooper,” Hense said, her voice going low, almost friendly. “You can be stupid and just go along with this bullshit, in which case you’re about as useless a fucking cop as there could be, or you can think for yourself and figure this shit out, and stand up for the Force.” She shrugged. “Your fucking choice. You’re all cops. Act like it.”

Shit, even I was pulsing with patriotic fervor. A few moments of absolute stillness passed; I thought I could hear the cigarettes burning. Then Kiplinger stood up, dropped his cigarette on the cabin floor, and cocked his head to one side until his neck popped.

“Fuck it,” he said, striding forward. He straightened one arm out with a sudden gesture, a blade sliding into his grip. The other Stormers just watched in silence as he stepped behind Hense. He was close enough for me to smell him, rancid sweat inside that smothering ObFu. He paused to look around at his patrolmates. “We’re cops,” he said, and sliced through Hense’s restraints, pausing to stare down at the round-faced trooper.

She put a cigarette between her chapped lips and shrugged. “I spoke my piece,” she said, sending a cloud of heavy smoke into the air. “Y’all gonna take their orders, I’m not gonna be a bitch about it. And shit, maybe y’all are right. Even a blind hog can find an acorn once in a while.”

Hense was up immediately. “Thank you, trooper,” she said. I blinked. It may have been the first time in history an officer had thanked someone. She rubbed her wrists as the Stormer cut Happling free, and then she nodded at me.

“Him, too,” she said. “He’s in our custody, and he’s important. We can’t have him getting killed because he’s tied down.”

The Stormer hesitated, but then nodded curtly and with a jerk I was free, my own wrists burning. Hense and I looked at each other. I was still throbbing with patriotic fervor, my heart racing, and I smiled at her. To my amazement she smiled back, and for a second or two looked young, like a kid. Then Happling, his hands curled into permanent fists, took up position behind her and on my right, glaring around, and she blinked.

“All right,” Hense said in a low voice. The whole cabin went silent. “Form up. De Salvo, you’re on weapons detail for the captain and me. Trooper,” she said to Kiplinger as the rest of the squad stood and began pulling on their stifling ObFu face masks. “Give me the rundown: who besides the Spook is up front?”

“Just Bendix, sir.” As Kiplinger started giving her a terse, professional briefing, I stood up and put my hand on Happling’s shoulder, grinning. When the big man turned to scowl at me, I winked.

“Congratulations, Nathan,” I said. “You’re criminals, now.”