The Beam: Season Three (37 page)

“And?”
 

“Long may think Omar’s got you figured out, but I don’t think so. I want you on my side.”
 

Nicolai sighed. “I’m through taking sides.”
 

“You can’t
not
take sides!” Kate blurted. “You ain’t stupid, Nicolai! You know Micah Ryan was behind what happened to us. You saw it! You know about Beau Monde; you’re just as pissed about it all as I am. You don’t take a side, you get squashed in the middle when Micah tries slamming his balls against whatever they’re doing to screw Directorate. Omar
and
Micah. Now, you’ve never liked Micah, though you like his party. Are you spineless? You want Omar to use your ass and toss it aside? Or are you going to be a fucking man?”
 

Nicolai was silent again. Finally, he said, “Fine. You want to tell me what to do?”
 

“For now, just know. And check out Braemon if you can, and anything about Shift, the Ryans, their mother — ”

“Their
mother?”
 

“Long said something about their mother. I didn’t ask much, but I guess he suspects she’s involved somehow, too.”
 

Nicolai took a thoughtful moment then said, “Okay. What else?”

“I don’t know much more, and the rest you won’t care about. I can’t get in touch between now and Braemon’s thing, so we’ll talk then. You see me at the party, hit on me and act like you’re picking me up. I’m the super-tall blonde with giant humps. Nobody will blame you for trying to get some of my fine ass. We’ll sneak off and touch base then. Just watch for Omar. He’s a thin black guy, always wears — ”

“I’ll look him up,” Nicolai said. “What about Long? The cop. What’s your read on him, other than that he wants to bend you over a sink?”

Kate thought, listening for her instinct. “I think he’s okay. Maybe fooled a little, but smart beneath it all, and already distrusts Omar. That’s a plus. Gun to head, I think we can trust him.”
 

“A rare good cop?”

Kate nodded for no one to see. “Believe it or not, I think so.”
 

“Stable. Sensible,” Nicolai said.
 

“Like a rock.”

Chapter Eight

Dominic was terrified enough to shit peach pits.

The roar sounded close, but he knew it was likely an echo from the long, concrete corridor. He wasn’t particularly concerned with how near or far the sound was, just bothered that it didn’t seem human. Or animal. It sounded like something twisted and evil: insanity with legs and lungs.
 

Dominic had the riot slumbergun at his hip like an old movie desperado. Leah was beside him, holding her weapon the same way. They were both standing near enough to the tunnel’s mouth to know they could shoot down the Organas like fish in a barrel, but far enough back that they shouldn’t be trapped in the confined space.
 

They’d spent the past sixty seconds discussing their strategy. This was the only way. Dominic had suggested not opening the cells and simply shooting into them, thus neutralizing the crazed Organas before they had a chance to claw and bite. It would work because the NAUCLU lawyers had insisted on Luddite imprisonment: There were no force fields to stop the slumbershots and only bars to shoot through. But there were two problems with that idea, and Leah, who could see the system from the inside thanks to the nanobots she’d left behind the Quark firewall, noted both immediately. If they slumbered the Organas in their cells, they’d need to drag their sleeping bodies all the way down to the buses one by one. And more troublingly, laws formerly passed by the NAUCLU had put systems in place to detect things like shooting captive prisoners.
Somehow
, the NAUCLU saw it as abusive. And if police brutality was detected, a second series of protections fell into place that were beyond police control. Beyond police control meant beyond the control of Leah’s nanobots…and she seemed to doubt that the arriving NAUCLU lawyers would simply open the cells then let Leah and Dominic drag their hippie prizes away.

It wouldn’t be long before Austin Smith and the others realized the deception and came running back. It was this or nothing. One big blitz, using drones to steer the wave of violent pacifists toward them. Only once the bodies willingly arrived could they do anything to usher Leo and his crew safely away…into the withdrawal cure Leo had already figured out and planned for.

Shoot.

Stack.
 

And run.
 

Dominic tried to remind himself that this had to have been Leo’s plan all along.
 

Leo had taught Dominic biology; Leo understood biology.
 

Leo had led a group of tech addicts; Leo had eschewed technology.
 

“Do you know what I keep thinking of?” Leah asked, keeping her gun’s belled end centered on the corridor with its growing noise. “Zombie movies.”
 

“Why?”
 

“There’s always a scene like this. An approaching horde, survivors trying to knock them all down.”

“Our guns are bigger,” Dominic said.
 

Leah smiled. Actually
smiled
. “Now
that
sounds like a line from a zombie movie.”

The roar grew louder. And louder. Dominic forced himself to recalibrate; he’d decided they should have been here already, based on earlier estimates. How many Organas were there? The shouts were too loud. But then again, if they were chasing a droid carrying what they thought was moondust, their apparent frenzy almost made sense. The droid had air. And the Organas were suffocating.
 

“Here they come,” Dominic said.
 

Now that he could see the Organas, the frightening sense of anticipation faded. A threat, he could deal with. The waiting had hurt most.
 

There was a small, tumbling droid ahead of the crowd, now visible at the end of the long concrete passageway. It seemed to flop end over end, but its middle was stationary like a gyroscope’s. A limb was sticking straight up, something that looked like a flag at its tail. The fake dust, in a bag. False salvation that made the shouting crowd stupid enough to run straight toward two people with raised weapons.
 

Leah discharged her slumber. A diffuse light spewed from the end, seemed to ricochet off the passageway walls and dissipated before it got anywhere near the Organas.
 

Dominic looked over. Leah no longer seemed calm or smiling. He knew she had a small stash of Lunis just as Dominic had hoarded his own, but now that the others were in sight, with Leo’s gray-braided head visible near the middle, she seemed just as ready to crack as they all were.
 

“Hold your fire until I say,” Dominic told her. “The bell end makes these things fire wide but not far. You have to wait until you see the whites of their eyes.”
 

Dominic forced a small smile, but Leah didn’t see it. She was staring straight ahead, her fingertips pressed white against the weapon’s thick gray body.
 

As they came closer, Dominic’s new resolve faltered. He’d seen these people not long ago, and although they’d been on edge then, they’d still been human. Now their humanity was gone. Their eyes were wide, focused on the droid. Their mouths were open, showing teeth. All had disheveled hair, mussed clothing, and injuries. Thanks to the asshole lawyers, these latent killers had been shoved into a few common cells while the worst of their addiction was hitting. Blood ran down necks and arms, from ears, lips and scalps. Some of their fingers, held out in needful hooks, looked broken and bent. Leo, whose eyes seemed slightly less crazed than the others, appeared to have lost most of an ear. Noses looked broken. Eyes were dark, like pits.
 

Zombie movies indeed,
Dominic thought.
 

“Now!” he shouted.
 

Dominic fired. His first shot hit home, dropping five or six of the oncoming Organas as flat as if they’d been shut off midstride. Those behind the struck frontrunners tripped over their fellows, also striking concrete before shambling back up with fresh targets in mind.
 

They’d been chasing the droid, but now there was something else worth paying attention to.

People.

Two
people, on whom they could probably smell Lunis.
 

The Organas came.
 

Leah fired. Dominic fired again. The Organas dropped in waves, but their charge was fiercer than Dominic had anticipated. He’d been in similar situations, mostly when younger, but the Organas weren’t following the same rulebook as those others. Usually, when riot police slumbershot into a crowd, those behind them evaded or scattered. At the very least, they slowed. But the Organas saw only targets and felt only need.

The droid skittered between Dominic and Leah, screaming through the rows of personal vehicles like something alive. The Organas, not far behind, approached like a wave. Dozens had fallen, but the stimuli were confusing; those who went down weren’t necessarily hit, and thanks to the dispersed blast cone, not all those who were hit went down.
 

“Back up! West, Leah, get back!”
 

While Dominic’s attention was on Leah, he felt a heavy body strike and pin him. He rolled, looked up, and saw Scooter, the village’s gentle giant. His teeth were bared. He sat up on Dominic’s chest, rearing back, fists raised.
 

There was a jump in Dominic’s timeline, like a glitch. He tried blinking but found it too painful. His face was numb, and Scooter was hauling back again with his left.
 

A blast. A flash of light. This time Dominic’s entire right side felt pins and needles. He’d taken a glancing slumbershot — Leah’s blast, which had left Scooter inert in the corner.
 

She kicked something at him. It was the slumbergun, which Dominic had lost when he’d gone down. His right side was sluggish, so he grabbed the thing with his left. Dominic managed another two shots before he could again fire with his dominant hand.
 

A mass moved toward Leah. Taking his eye off the thinning crowd, Dominic turned to shoot. The three almost on Leah staggered and fell, but so did she. He’d hit her, too, and now he was alone.
 

Someone came from the left. A tall man with a crooked, bleeding nose. The gun was too long and too far to turn in time, so Dominic jacked backward and stuck him with an elbow. He followed with a jab from the gun’s butt and finally hauled around for a proper shot. The blast hit him hard, throwing the man against a parked hover.
 

Another shot.
 

Another.
 

And then Dominic realized the parking garage had gone mostly quiet, the minute ticking of his recharging slumbergun having become the dominant sound.

His gun was wrenched away from behind. He turned to find himself facing Leo Booker. Leo was, it seemed, just the right amount of crazy. His weaning plan must have fallen short at the end, because although he seemed to have enough clarity to understand the stolen weapon’s function and aim it correctly, he didn’t seem nearly cogent enough to remember Dominic, to know if he was friend or foe, or that he himself had orchestrated this all from the start.
 

“Do you know about the squirrels?”
Leo asked, his mouth slack and drawling.
 

“Leo,” Dominic huffed, raising his hands in surrender. “You don’t know what you’re — ”

There was a blast. A flash of light. A whoosh of charged air. Then Leo was unconscious atop Scooter’s huge form, the slumbergun still in his hands like a cherished bedtime toy.
 

Dominic, his heart hammering, looked toward the slumbershot’s source and saw Leah on her knee, limp on one side, her eyes flagging as if seeking sleep. She’d pinned the large weapon against her chest and had managed to pull its trigger with what looked like the only responsive finger on a dead-fish hand.
 

“Dobt say ebbythig,” Leah slurred through numb, paralyzed lips, pulling herself erect on sluggish limbs, impossibly ready to soldier on. She looked down at all the Organa bodies, then at the buses waiting for stacked human cargo, then at Dominic. “Jubt gebt to work.”

Chapter Nine

Natasha was in her office, immersed, practicing. It was strange, Isaac thought, to see her closed door, know she was in her rig, and not feel jealous or angry. She hadn’t exactly admitted to cheating on him in a way that
teeeeechnically
wasn’t cheating out there in the Viazo, but the writing was definitely on the wall. And yet today, he knew she wasn’t cheating. In a strange way, what she was doing in there now was finally
for
rather than against him.
 

Well, it was for
Micah
, not Isaac. But it was
about
Isaac, and Natasha — bless her newly sweet, sometimes-dumb heart — honestly seemed to think the idea of involving her husband in an onstage trick at a big, predominantly Enterprise gala was cute rather than embarrassing. But how would Isaac look if he refused? Micah was excellent at saying something he didn’t actually mean, then making people feel guilty enough to go along with it, and then (and
this
was magic, if anything was) somehow divorcing himself from the thing he’d proposed in the first place, so he could later say it was another’s dumb idea.