8


We exited the lift and headed for Henshaw's yacht. The area was better maintained than the rest of the spaceport. All along the concourse were cocktail lounges where people talked over expensive drinks and listened to soft music. Dark blue carpet ran down the middle, gold-plated railings lined the walkways, and the ceiling was gold stars sprinkled on crimson.
Gazing through one of the large observation windows near the ceiling, I saw several ships on zero-gravity flight decks. Henshaw pointed at a sleek white vessel with gold trim. “That's the Lady Faith, my personal pleasure craft. She has slip drive capabilities and state-of-the-art engines.”
I made a note but was more concerned with the guards blocking access to the boarding area. They looked more like soldiers than cops.
The group stared back at me, noses turned up at the blood on my boots.
Henshaw froze where he was standing.
"What's the problem?" I asked. He'd been desperate to get here and now he wouldn't move forward.
"It's nothing," he said, looking over his shoulder for a place to retreat.
"What's his problem?" Elise asked. She was the first to pick up on the fact that something was wrong. Tom was close behind, watching Henshaw carefully. Path didn't seem to care.
I confronted Henshaw. "These aren't the guards you were expecting, are they?"
He shook his head. "No, they aren't. These men will take me to their headquarters."
"And why is that?" Elise asked.
"Their boss is a poor gambler. I'm sure he wants a rematch," Henshaw said, staring at them and plotting his next move. “I have invited him to my estate and my yacht but he insists on a rematch within his own dominion—which will be hazardous to my health.”
"That’s not really my problem," I said. "We brought you this far, now give me the software upgrades for my nerve-ware and LAI."
When he shook his head, the motion was so small, I barely noticed he was responding. He had a lot of things going at once, thoughts of what his gambling rivals would do to him conflicting with thoughts of what I would do to him. Now he wasn't able to make a decision.
"You're coming with me," I said, grabbing him before he could try to step away.
"Unhand me, Reaper," he said harshly. "I’m not some street protestor to be pushed around. And if those soldiers decide to come after me, us, then we’re in trouble."
“I’m a Reaper. I can handle soldiers,” I said despite knowing there were too many of them to resist.
“Let go of my arm. We’re done. Be thankful I fixed as many of your numerous problems as I did. No one outside the Union could have helped you,” Henshaw complained.
I stared him down, but he was surprisingly steadfast. “We’re not done, Henshaw. You made a promise.”
"I'd rather take my chances with them. Let. Me. Go. Or I'm going to start shouting for help!" he threatened. “I’ll find someone else to take me to my ship.”
“Mr. James Henshaw is showing signs of self-doubt in equal measure with prime indicators of deception,” X-37 warned.
I already knew that and was getting impatient. "Give me the software update." I’d worried he was lying to me. Being proved right was a real punch to the gut.
"There is no update. I just said that to get your help," Henshaw admitted.
"That's a good way to die," I said. "You're coming with us."
"I'm not," he said, trying to pull away. I felt him shaking through the sensors in my Reaper arm.
I applied pressure to his bicep. "Come with me right now, or you'll have more than just augmented vision. One thing you might not know about Reaper hands is they can generate enough force to clip a human arm like a twig. Having a bionic arm won’t be so bad."
“I know what you can do but it changes nothing,” Henshaw said, pain straining his expression.
“You know it, but have you felt it?” I asked, increasing the pressure on his arm.
To his credit, Henshaw attempted to pull away anyway. I yanked him back. Seconds later, I had him tied at the wrists and ankles and thrown across my shoulder.
Elise and Tom looked worriedly at the guards. I saw them and had already calculated how long it would be before they intervened. My assessment was that they wouldn’t leave their assigned posts without orders, but there were limits to how long they would wait before taking their own initiative.
"They haven't realized who he is, or they would be after us," I said. "But they are private security agents. They're not going to get involved unless they think it's a person their masters are interested in. When the guy with the green wristband gets back, we could be in trouble. I think he went to his superiors for new orders."
"Okay," Elise said, with none of her normal bravado. Tom said nothing. Path was as serene as always. I headed down the concourse, but in the opposite direction of the yacht.
"Path, can we get to my ship on this level?" I asked.
"You can," he said. "But there is a tube train that would be faster. If we can get to it."
I marched past wary citizens who backed away, retreating to expensive restaurants that provided the best meals in the city and soft jazz played by live musicians.
None of the security guards on the concourse intervened on Henshaw's behalf.
* * *
Carrying Henshaw over one shoulder was getting old, so I set him on his feet. "It's time for you to walk. Try to run and I’ll cut off your legs."
"Promise me you'll take me to my yacht, and I'll promise not to run," Henshaw said, coughing a little bit from having my shoulder dug into his gut. "This wasn't at all what I paid for."
"You didn't pay," I reminded him. "You made promises you never intended to keep. So now you're going to magic up some software upgrades or I'm gonna find some other way to be compensated. Maybe there is someone on Roxo who would like to speak to you. Maybe they would pay me enough to make it worth my while. I could turn you over to the guards that have your ship surrounded."
"You came here for my help. I provided services in exchange for escort to my yacht, which you didn't complete. I'm not sure how I owe you anything,"
"Bartering with a Reaper is hazardous to your health," I warned.
"I fixed your eye the best I could with the tools available at my mansion," he said. "If you want more, then you have to get me to my ship."
"I put people I care about at risk to get you through that mob. Now you owe us something of equal value," I said.
"I don't care about the mob!" he shouted, his voice strained from the way I had been manhandling him. “I care about getting to my yacht!”
I couldn't continue to drag him against his will. Sooner or later, we would encounter guards who would do more than watch us pass. Or the riots would spread to the more affluent sections of the tube world.
Most of the problems were still on the ground level. Henshaw was smart enough to know I was tired of lugging him along the concourse. I only hoped he was smart enough to take my threat seriously.
I relaxed my grip but didn't let go of his arm until I was confident he wouldn't do something stupid, at least not right away.
He leaned on the wall and looked sick in the face, like he was trying his best not to vomit. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'm accustomed to the rotational gravity of the main level. The concourse gravity generators always make me sick."
"They are no different than what will be on your yacht," Tom pointed out.
Henshaw ignored him.
Elise pressed close to me and whispered, "Why don't we just leave him? Can he really do that much more for your vision?"
"It's not about that anymore," I said, watching the ocular engineer get sick.
"Then what's it about?" she asked.
"No one plays me false," I said, feeling like a vindictive jackass even as I said the words. This was something I couldn't blame on my Reaper training or my upbringing. It was just the way I was. Henshaw played a game and lost. Now he had to pay the price. He had to do something to make it right, and it might as well be an upgrade to my Reaper ocular nerve-ware nexus. He couldn’t tell me my LAI was in trouble and then refuse to deliver a solution.
"Leave him," Elise said, jerking her head toward Henshaw. “He’s useless. I don’t know why we brought him this far.”
“Reasons,” I growled.
“Whatever, Hal. Let’s ditch him before he causes us real problems,” she said.
"Listen to the girl. I'm no use to you," Henshaw said in a pleading voice. "Just leave me here and I will find my way to someone who can actually help me."
Ignoring Elise, I snapped out the blade from my left arm and held it to his throat. "I don't trust you, Henshaw. You made a promise, and you're going to see it through."
Face pale, he carefully nodded and said he would comply. He attempted to adjust the now tattered trench coat and smashed hat. The sunglasses, however, were gone, lost during our ordeal getting onto the lift, or maybe when I was manhandling him along the concourse.
Tom followed further behind than normal, witnessing the unfolding drama with growing concern. Path brought up the rear with no apparent fear of what might or might not happen when things went bad.
The farther we walked, the fewer people we encountered. That didn't mean we were out of touch with the increasing chaos below. Video screens played sensational footage of the riots at several of the abandoned sports bars and expensive cocktail lounges. A few of the retail shops were still staffed by bored-looking employees, while others were empty or closed because the staff couldn’t make it in.
A single guard stood at the checkpoint to the train tube. He was old and possibly half blind, probably working this job long after he should have retired. I explained to him what we wanted and he nodded without appearing to actually understand me or care.
"When does the train run?" I asked.
"Yes, sir," the attendant said, obviously misunderstanding or not hearing what I had asked him. "Trains running right on time. Now taking passengers. Don't stand there lollygagging. We keep a tight schedule on the Roxo Premier Line."
His pitch sounded rehearsed and tired. He'd been at this job forever. I pulled Henshaw forward. "Tip him."
"I don't see why I should," Henshaw said indignantly. "He's just standing there. How hard can that be?"
Several seconds passed in which the other man attempted to stare me down. I guessed he thought his optical enhancements gave him an edge, but he was wrong. Leaning forward menacingly, I started to smile, showing my teeth.
"Fine," Henshaw said hurriedly, rummaging in his tattered clothing. He handed the man a credit chip. "You're doing great work. Here's a little something in appreciation," he said sarcastically.
We boarded without further incident.
The conveyance was a simple design, merely requiring us to step out to a series of linked shuttles that would run along the outside of the concourse.
"Take a seat," I said, pointing at one of the cheap plastic benches along the wall of the shuttle.
Henshaw complied, but his resentment was growing, judging from the glower. "I'm not looking forward to slumming on some hunk of junk smuggler’s ship. And look at me, my wardrobe is ruined. Remind me not to hire you for personal protection in the future."
"We could've left you on the surface. And I'll remind you that we wouldn't have tried to get through the riot at all if you hadn't made promises you had no intention of keeping."
Henshaw scanned the area to his right and left, then lounged against the wall, spreading his arms wide. “Well, in that case, maybe this isn't so bad, but I could really use a change of clothes and a spa treatment right about now."
Without the sunglasses to hide his augmented vision, silver and blue lines flickered around the iris of each eye, one clockwise and the other counterclockwise. The effect wasn't constant but was noticeable if I studied him long enough. From time to time, I sensed more than saw a dim red light in his pupils… because he was recording.
I knew what he was doing. The man probably had his own version of a LAI. Everything was being documented and analyzed. I felt dense for not seeing it sooner.
I turned away from the others and muted the group channel to have a private conversation with X-37. “Why didn’t you alert me that Henshaw was recording everything?”
“You didn’t ask, Reaper Cain,” X-37 said dryly.
“I’m trading you in on a newer model the first chance I get,” I complained.
“Promises, promises.” X didn’t seem worried by my threat.
I faced the others, stifling the curses I wanted to fling at my LAI.
"Why don't you just shut up until we get to the ship," Elise said, standing nose to nose with Henshaw now. "You almost got us killed back there."
"I'm terribly sorry about that," Henshaw said.
I pulled him away from the others. "Why didn't you tell me you have a limited artificial intelligence?"
"I didn't know what you would do," he said. The tremor in his voice made me believe him. "And I don't want everyone knowing. It's caused me some problems in the past."
"Because people think you use it when you're gambling," I said.
"Yes, that is essentially correct. What they don't know is that my limited AI is very rudimentary. I built it myself. Mostly just a recording device."
"I see," I said. "So why did you really want me to take you to your yacht?"
"Well, I thought my limited AI might benefit from some cross-contamination with yours. Maybe increase its computational powers."
"So you can gamble better," I stated.
"No, I would never do that," he said, but he smiled wryly.
"That's the kind of thing that gets an ocular engineer like you killed," I said.
"Can you help me or not?"
"That depends on what's in it for me and my people," I said. This latest revelation started an idea in my head. If Henshaw could benefit from augmentations, perhaps I needed to think about Elise and the rest of my crew. The idea of letting someone as untrustworthy as Henshaw work on me again, or my friends, didn’t feel smart, but I had to at least consider the option. We couldn’t defeat the Union without maximizing every advantage we could get our hands on.
There were pros and cons to becoming a cyborg. They wouldn't thank me for forcing something like a limited AI on them. One look at Henshaw's now somber expression told me I was right; I wasn't the only one who felt cursed by my augmentations.