Upgrade (54 page)

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Authors: Richard Parry

Tags: #cyberpunk, #Adventure, #Dystopian, #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Science Fiction

BOOK: Upgrade
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“I guess,” said Mason.
 
“Where you going with this?”

“Until you said ‘astronaut,’ a more general place,” she said, the radio hissing for a moment.
 
“Now, somewhere specific.
 
What do you know about Metatech?”

“They make guns,” said Mason.
 
“Tanks.
 
Armor.”

“Right,” said Carter.
 
“They also make orbital cannons.
 
They lease time on space lasers to excise entire cities.”

“Sure,” said Mason.
 
“We’ve got the same kind of thing.
 
Except ours isn’t a space laser.
 
It’s a nuclear strike.”

“It’s a fusion emitter,” said Carter.
 
“You really didn’t study, did you?”

“I still don’t know the difference between fission and fusion,” said Mason.
 
He rubbed at his temples.
 
“Carter?
 
I really am tired.”

“You should know the difference.
 
Apsel does fusion.
 
It’s our thing.
 
Atomic Energy, remember?
 
We’re all about making energy.”

Mason looked at the radio.

“You still there?”
 
There was a thudding sound, like Carter was tapping against her mic.
 
“You with me?”

“I’m with you.
 
I know what our business is.”

“You just said—”

“We make energy.
 
We can fire that energy from space canons, or light cities, or even charge up this power pack on my back.
 
I don’t give two shits about whether it’s fission or fusion or black sorcery.”

“Fair enough,” she said.
 
“You’re a neanderthal.”

“I want to sleep at night,” said Mason.
 
“I don’t want to read science journals.”

“Your loss,” said Carter.
 
“I read stuff other than science journals.”

“Like what?”

“Like—”

“Forget I asked,” said Mason.
 
“Where you going with the Metatech thing?”

“They launched their giant, city killing space lasers with tech they got after acquiring a majority portion of NASA.”

“No shit?”

“No shit.”

“NASA made space lasers?”

“No.
 
NASA made space stuff.
 
Rockets.
 
Space ships.
 
Space suits.
 
Freeze dried gourmet meals.
 
Metatech bolted a laser on the outside of a satellite, tied it to a rocket, and fired it into the sky.”

“Oh,” said Mason.
 
“I…
 
That’s less cool.”

“It’s still pretty cool,” she said.
 
“Seriously.
 
City-killing space lasers?
 
Who doesn’t want one of those?”

“How’d we get our…
 
Our…
 
Christ.
 
Fusion or fission?”

“Fusion.”

“How’d we get our fusion thing into the sky?”

“We stole the space tech from them, and bolted our fusion cannon on the outside.”

“Same thing?”

“You’re asking the wrong questions,” said Carter.
 
“Seriously.
 
You should be asking me different questions.”

Mason scratched his head.
 
“I give up.”

“Ok, Mason Floyd,” said Carter.
 
“You still wanna be an astronaut?”

He blinked at the radio.
 
“What?”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“It’s not really,” he said.
 
“It’s—”

“Yes.
 
Or no.”

“No,” said Mason.
 
“Yes.”

“That’s what I thought,” she said.
 
She paused, and Mason could hear her quick indrawn breath.
 
“I can’t go with you.”

“No,” he said.
 
“Not like this.”

Her voice sounded brittle, bright and artificial.
 
“It’ll be ok.
 
We can still write.”

“I can’t ask you to…
 
I can’t ask you to make the call to them.”

“Sure you can,” she said.
 
“You’re a big boy.
 
All you need to do is say, ‘Carter, can you call Metatech and see if they’ll accept my job application?’”

“We could go together,” said Mason.

“No,” said Carter.
 
“No we can’t.”

“It’s just that…”
 
He stopped, swallowed.
 
“I…”

The radio hissed.
 
“We’re a team.
 
I get it.”

“No,” he said.
 
“We’re—”

“Don’t say it,” she said.
 
“We’re a team.”

Mason stood up.
 
He almost didn’t notice the twinge in his leg as he looked out the window.
 
He turned back to the radio.
 
“I want us to keep being a team.”

“Mason?”

“Yes, Carter?”

“We can’t keep being a team.”
 
Her voice turned hard.
 
“They want to kill you, Mason.
 
They will never let you come back.
 
Not this time.
 
You tried to sell company IP.
 
At least, that’s what they think.
 
Someone needs to fall, and that’s gonna be you.
 
There will never be an inquest.
 
No corporate memo can dig you out this time.”

He reached out a hand, and put it on top of the radio.
 
He bowed his head.
 
“Can we—”

“No,” she said.
 
“Whatever you’re about to ask, the answer’s no.”

“I been doing this job for a long time, Carter,” said Mason.
 
“Long time.”

“I’ve read your file.”

He felt the sardonic smile pull at his face.
 
I’m sure you have
.
 
Instead, he said, “I’ve never had a…”
 
He swallowed.
 
“I don’t know—”

“It’s ok,” she said.
 
“Like I said, we can still write.”

“No,” he said.
 
“No, we can’t.
 
If we do this—”

“If you do it.”

“If we do this, we can’t talk again.
 
After it’s done?
 
Not ever.”

The radio hissed again.
 
“I know,” she said, her voice soft.
 
“I know.”

Mason looked up and out the window.
 
“Ok.”

“Ok,” she said.

“Carter?”

“Yes, Mason.”

“Carter?
 
I need you to get a message to Harry for me.”

“Ok.
 
Different message to last time.”

“That’s right.
 
Different message.”

“What do you want me to tell him?”

“Can you ask him…
 
Can you ask him to meet me at the Great Wheel.
 
Tell him I want to come in.”

“Ok,” she said.
 
“What do you want me to really tell him?”

“Tell him it’s a setup.
 
Tell him to be careful.”

“Ok.”

“Carter?”

“Yes, Mason?”

“Carter, can you call Metatech and see if they’ll accept my job application?”
 
Mason let the tension out of his shoulders.
 
I’ve said it.
 
It’s done
.

“Yes, Mason.”
 
The radio clicked as she dropped from the other end.

He touched the radio again.
 
“Thanks, Carter.”
 
The empty room swallowed his words as he turned to leave.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Harry stared at the wall of the hangar, the hum running through his chassis as the pipes connected to him swapped out liquids, replenished organic fuels.
 
It’s not like he needed a battery uplift — the damn reactor would keep on powering the metal for a thousand years or more.
 
The meat part, what was left of
him
still needed —

He cut the thought off.
 
“He said what?”

“He said—”

“I know what he said, Carter.
 
I heard you the first time.”

“Then why—”

“What I meant was, why did he say that?”
 
Harry shifted one of his metal feet, listening to the hiss and purr of the link.

“You want me to guess?
 
It’s Mason fucking Floyd, Harry.
 
An enigma.
 
A catalyst.
 
The golden boy.”
 
Carter sounded tired.

“Right,” said Harry.
 
“But you and I know him better.
 
If you had to …
 
guess.”

Carter paused for a few moments.
 
“You want me to extrapolate based on known data?”

“Is that the same thing as guessing?”

“It’s similar,” she said.
 
“There’s more science involved my way.”

“Ok,” said Harry.
 
“Why don’t you…
 
What did you say?”

“Extrapolate.”

“Sure.
 
Extrapolate away.”

Carter sighed, the link chattering between them.
 
“I think he wants to die.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” said Harry.
 
“Clear signs of a death wish.”

“Sure,” she said.
 
“I don’t know—”

“Have you told anyone?”
 
Harry looked down at the metal of his foot, seeing some of the chips in the painted surface.
 
The
P
of
NO STEP
had worn down to
NO STE
.
 
“I mean, escalated it.
 
Through the channels.”

“The channels know, Harry.
 
You know how this works.”

“I used to
be
how this works,” said Harry.
 
“I get it.”

The silence pooled around them, broken only by the occasional static of the link.
 
Carter spoke first.
 
“So what are you going to do?”

“My job, Carter,” said Harry.
 
“I’m going to do my job.”

“I thought you might,” said Carter.
 
“I wanted to give you the choice, though.”

“What choice?” said Harry.

“You remember what he did for you, don’t you?” said Carter.

Harry looked at the metal of his foot again, seeing the
NO STE
stenciled there again.
 
His optics zoomed in on it, going to ten times resolution, a hundred, a thousand.
 
He could see the puffs and scars of the metallic structure, threw in false color over the top.
 
“I remember—”

“You remember the fire,” she said.

Harry lifted a metal hand in front of his optics, then looked at the cables connecting him to the wall.
 
“I remember the fire,” he said.
 
“It’s not something you forget.”

“I remember it too,” she said.
 
“He had a choice, then.”

“How can you remember it?
 
You weren’t assigned.”

“That’s above your pay grade, Harry.
 
It’s just that…
 
I remember something else, other than the fire.”

Harry felt something hard and nasty get into his voice.
 
“What’s that, Carter?
 
You’re always so
smart
, aren’t you.
 
You ever been burned alive?
 
That what you remember?”

The link hissed between them.
 
“I can show you,” she said.

“Show me what?”

“Do you want to know?”
 
She paused.
 
“You have to know it all, if you know a piece.
 
So you can make the right choice.”

“What’s in this for you, Carter?
 
Why do you care?”

“You ever had a friend, Harry?”

Harry paused the scraping of his foot along the ground, tipping the chassis with a soft whine of servos.
 
“What the
fuck
kind of question is that?”

“You know, someone you trust.
 
Who trusts you.”

“I…
 
Sure.
 
Of course.”

“Remember that, at the end of this,” she said.

“The end of what?” said Harry.
 
“You hormonal today, Carter?”

“No,” said Carter.
 
“Here.
 
You should know.
 
I can’t make the choice for you.”

An icon flashed in the corner of Harry’s vision, a packet of data small and old.
 
He looked at it as it blinked, a video file of some kind.
 
“What is it?”

“Just watch it,” she said.

“Has Lace seen this?”

“Just
watch
it, Harry Fuentes.
 
Make the
right
choice.”

He opened the packet, and the video flooded into life.

⚔ ⚛ ⚔

A man ran along the street, rain pounding down around him.
 
He had a weapon in his hand, something big and violent, a marker above his head stenciling the name FUENTES, H.
 
The image blurred for a moment, static coming down like the rain as the EMP kicked off nearby.

The man — Harry — stopped, looking around the street.
 
“Floyd!
 
That’s a cheap shot.”

Another man dropped to the ground in the street behind him.
 
He must have been hidden in the catwalk structure of the fire escapes hugging the buildings like old lace.
 
The image of the other man was overlaid in green for a moment before FLOYD, M flickered into life above his head.
 
He had a weapon in his hand, pointed at Harry’s back.
 
The rain streamed and coursed around him, making clothes stick.
 
Lightning flashed across the sky.
 
“Don’t move, Fuentes.”

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