Chapter Forty-Seven

The flight back to the city was almost anti-climactic, the three of us spread out in the interior of the helo and slept for the first four hours. When we woke up, we started sorting the details we needed to get back to the ‘real world’ again, all while the pilot tried to explain why we owed him so much more credits. There was the increased risk, the flight time, the wear and tear, the jobs he’d lost that day because he’d had to come back for us, all of it.

He knew it was bullshit, we knew it was bullshit, and eventually we tuned the fucker out, Richie and Sync cursing as they found that as they’d been declared legally dead, they’d lost their credit accounts.

Both had been transferred to their ‘next of kin’. In Richie’s case a cousin, who he hadn’t spoken to in ten years and after the death taxes were taken off? It wasn’t worth the risk to trace and get the credits back.

Sync, on the other hand, admitted that the credits had gone to her ex-husband, and that fucker would have been laughing all the way to the bank. She spent a long minute looking over everything she and Richie could dig up on him, and quickly realized that there wasn’t a cat in fucking hell’s chance she was getting anything back.

He'd spent it all on partying, he’d given an emotional speech about her death—laughter and cheers were born of emotion after all--and his new wife had apparently already filed for divorce and half his money.

Sync’s only legal method of getting anything back was to come out as alive, she’d be arrested as a deserter and thief of an APS instantly, most likely, unless she was insanely lucky? At best they’d make her return to the army for the next few years to finish her tour.

That left illegal methods, anything that left the ex-husband alive and knowing she was, would result in him trying to blackmail her—the divorce wasn’t a good one—and for the little money that would be left once the partying was all done and the new soon-to-be ex-wife’s claim?

It wasn’t worth it.

We came up with the plan to fuck his life up a little more, possibly either hire some goblins or something, maybe have Bowdoin fuck him over, just because of the speeches he gave over her supposed death, and moved on.

By the time we were coming into a landing at the warehouse? We were all exhausted, emotionally and physically and I’d ignored seven attempts at calls from Julius.

I sent twenty percent on top to the pilot, knowing that would cover any expenses he had, and we clambered out, hurrying into the warehouse and out of prying eyes as quickly as possible.

Luna and Gessh had opened the doors for us as we landed, and quickly closed them again, even as I sent approvals to the various turrets and sensors for Richie and Sync.

The warehouse seemed insanely small with all three of us in our suits and moving, but I had Richie move into position with the storage and maintenance crate, Reign and Todds hurrying down the stairs to join us as he stepped back, the cranes locking into place on his APS.

“Are we clear?” he asked me, and I checked.

“Confirmed, cameras are down, and we’re secure,” I said, smiling. “Welcome home, both of you.”

“Ummm, any chance of some privacy?” Sync asked, and I winced, turning to the others.

“Okay everyone, clear the room please, we need some clean clothes, a fuck load of wipes, and we’re all going to need showers before anything else. We’ve all been in the suits and there’s processes that aren’t nice to share. A little privacy would be good.”

“We’ll be upstairs,” Reign said, nodding. “Give me a minute and I’ll get a selection of clothes.”

“Thank you.” Sync sighed.

I winced, I should have thought about it after all, there were waste elimination facilities built into the suit, but they were basically glorified catheters, and they needed removal. There was an automated process to do it, and it sucked ass.

Far better to do it yourself, you knew your own body after all, and while we usually had a dedicated room each, we’d done it in front of each other enough times that it wasn’t an issue. In front of the others though?

I just should have thought about it.

Julius started calling again and I growled, accepting it finally.

“Julius.” I growled the greeting.

“Kabutt, are you back?” He asked grimly, and I nodded.

“We are.”

“All three?”

“Yeah.”

“And… and they’re functional?” he asked, hesitating and clearly preparing himself for the worst.

“We are, although we need a rest and a goddamn shower before we can do anything.

In truth the four hours of sleep on the flight had done wonders for us, but still, that wasn’t the point, we’d all been bouncing and jostled in our suits the entire time, so while there was rest, it wasn’t ‘good’ rest.

“Tonight,” he said. “We need to have that nest clear by dawn or we fail the contract.”

“We’ll be there,” I assured him. “We’ll get the job done.”

“Thank fuck.” He sighed, sagging, then grinned. “On the upside, though? I had a little good news an hour ago, I called you, wanting to make sure you weren’t involved, but I guess you couldn’t have been as you were out of the city.

“What happened?” I asked curiously.

“Our friend Trees was apparently mugged, or something anyway. Something certainly happened, because he’s been dropped by his team and he’s in a hospital clinic.”

“What?” I asked, confused by fucking loving it. “What happened to him?”

“Nobody knows, but his team are all like him, purists, so he’s fucked either way, if he’s in the hospital it’s something that a medikit can’t fix, and his kind won’t permit regrowth or cybernetics…”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. He’s one of those?” I cursed, it all making sense now. “A fucking ‘church of the pure’ lunatic. That explains so much.”

The church were one of hundreds scattered about the city, everything from the AI being gods to this being the end of days was actively believed in and worshipped by some nutter somewhere, but the purists were fucking idiots as far as I was concerned.

They preached that any and all mods were befoulment of the ‘pure’ body, and things like regrowth, bio-grafting and so on were just as bad. How that worked with them using nanites and medikits? Nobody knew. It was the usual mind bending, jumping through hoops bullshit that religious fanatics came up with to justify their belief, but that these lunatics had latched onto it?

It made sense for Trees and the rest. They believed that this whole ‘breed out the lesser races’ plan of the elven leadership was heretical as well, and while I agreed there, it wasn’t because they felt it was wrong to do something with that kind of an aim, or to abandon the children.

No it was because they were disgusted by the ‘lesser races’ and believed they—we—should all be enslaved.

That someone had done him an injury serious enough he was in a hospital? That was his life over. He couldn’t allow regrowth or mods, not without losing his moral high ground, and to a scumbag like Trees? That was impossible to countenance.

I didn’t know what had happened, but I fucking liked it. That his team had abandoned him was just an extra gold fucking star for me. I really needed to send him a fruit basket or something.

Maybe with a fresh turd at the bottom, one that was nice and squishy.

“Kabutt?” Julius said, and I blinked, having gone off into a fantasy of eating a load of chilies and sending him the result.

“Sorry, Julius, miles away, what did you say?” I apologized.

“You’ll be there, tonight?” he asked again, clearly worried. “It’s a normal nest, but it’s a big one, and its mainly underground, and…”

“And?” I asked, not liking the tone.

“And, well, if you could make a point of a fast, and impressive clearance? Like a real slaughter? An advert for what the APS can do?” He winced. “I’m sorry to ask, I know they’re literally just back from the dead, but if you could, it’ll make damn sure nobody wants to risk losing us as their clearing team.”

“It’ll be fine, but I’m going to need a lot of extra ammo if you want us to clear it fast and impressively, no offence, but you want us to do it with a lot of fire and brimstone? That’s not cheap. I don’t mean on our effort, that’s fine, I mean on the sheer ammo expenditure. Our ammo isn’t something you can just pick off the shelf, and it’s not cheap.”

“I’ll cover it.” Julius said. “This is the kind of advert we get to do once. Nobody knows of any APS that would do this, so when you all march out of the darkness? The client is going to shit themselves, and you better believe they’ll be screaming to the various reels about you, wanting to sell the vids.”

“We’re going to need a fucking respray,” I muttered, looking at the APS, and wincing. “We’re all in army official decals at the minute.”

“Can you do it?” he asked, biting his lip and I nodded.

“We can, but we’re going to need some time. Fuck.”

“I’ll leave you to it then,” he said, quickly ending the call before I could add that bill to his tally as well.

I sighed, then triggered the release, forcing a smile as I looked to Richie and Sync. “Hey guys… you ready for some fun news?” I asked, groans rising instantly at my tone.

The next ten minutes were a sheer fucking joy, for all of us. The rear plates that covered Richie’s APS’ ass were still dented in from the crash and we had no replacements. So we decided to rip them off and check underneath, just so we knew if the suit was usable or not.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

Two of us pulling, one pushing and a crowbar inserted into the gap in the release plate finally broke it free, slamming it into my face and nearly knocking me out in the process.

That the unit was fine under the armor was a vast relief, but we had limited time before the mission tonight and using a medikit for my aching face seemed frivolous, so I just put up with it, while Richie put the panel aside, swearing he’d fix it with a hammer later today.

An hour later, we were all showered, dressed and sat around a table, eating and drinking, making plans, when I got a call from that lazy goddamn hacker Bowdoin.

"Hi there, Kabutt. It's so damn good to see you again. Did you miss me? I'm betting you missed me," he said cheerily, as I glared at him. This, this was exactly the wrong time, and I damn well knew he wanted something.

I stared at him grimly, my face throbbing as I reminded myself over and over that it wasn’t his fault he was annoying, and he was an asset. I needed to keep him, just in case. No telling him to get fucked on general principles or anything.

I sighed then forced myself, again, to be polite. "Bowdoin. Yeah, sure, like I'd miss the cock rot." Well, sort of polite.

"You had the cock rot? You know, that would explain—"

"What the fuck do you want, Bowdoin? This is NOT a good time, alright?" I snapped.

He shrugged. "Well, seeing as how we're buddies and I've helped you quite a few times—I thought that turnabout would be fair play. I've got a job offer for you. Like back when Richie did a job for me."

"Huh. Well, didn't see that coming. So, what's in it for me?" I asked, actually amused, wondering what use a hacker had for a guy like me.

"From what I understand, you're quite a fan of cold Credits? I mean, I can get you all sorts of weird merch too, if that's what you're into. We also have a good bunch of dealers on our turf. I can get you Char, Skiff, any—"

"Drugs made by slum peddlers? Don't think so. As for merch, if you're going to buy it with Oshbob, don't bother. I'm able to visit that green bastard and get ripped off on my own. Credits are fine. You haven't mentioned what the job is, though." I snorted, waving off Reign’s curious look.

"Sending it right over."

Mission offer:

Bowdoin Katamari, on behalf of the Snid, offers the following mission to Harry Kabutt:

At a time and place of Bowdoin's choosing, Kabutt will assault the AWF headquarters and then pull back. He will keep any chasing forces occupied and distracted until the Snid give the green light.

The Snid will supply:

 A list of known defensive forces in the AWF headquarters.

 Blueprints of the surrounding area, including a nearby entrance to the Underground

 Any information they can give Kabutt from inside the organization during the mission

Reward : 30000 credits

That was it, no fucking real details, no timescale, and AWF? The Artem Workers Foundation? They were a fucking corporation! For us to hang about for as long as he wants? Fuck no!

"You’re trying to get me killed, is that it?" I asked, trying to control my rising irritation.

"What? No. Of course not. Listen, I don't get what you're so damn upset about. You just need to get in there, toss a couple of grenades and then retreat while you take the occasional potshot at the pursuit to keep 'em interested. Meanwhile, I can sneak in the back door and do what I need to do,” he protested, seeming confused.

I glared at him, seeing he genuinely had no clue, he’d watched an op through my damn eyes, and still he had no clue, this. This was why civilians and military never mixed well.

"Bowdoin, you’re an idiot,” I muttered, scrubbing at my face with the heel of one hand, trying not to snarl. “Yeah, sure. I just need to distract them 'until you give the green light'? What's that? Two minutes? Ten? That shit won't work. Especially because these aren't like the poor fuckers Richie messed around with back in the day. AWF are the real deal. That means, if I should take the job, it would be for a lot more than thirty K, and we'd need to work on what I need to do. I need intel. Numbers. Everything you have. And we need hard limits. I need to know how many minutes I'm staying. Fuck, Bowdoin, it's like you've never done something like this before!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. First off, where the fuck is Kabutt and what have you done with him? I seem to recall somebody thinking I could 'just do my hacking thing' on a corpo tier AI. This is nowhere near as insane. Now, if there's anything that needs adjusting, we'll go over it, man." He agreed. "I’m cool with you doing your thing and then taking a judgement call on when to pull out.”

My left eye twitched at his words and I could feel a migraine starting. I swear, just speaking to the lunatic was an effort. "That's a start. We still need to know what we're up against." I explained as patiently as I could.

"Totally fair. I'm working on assembling a full list of the guards at the headquarters. Then, there's a couple of mercs that hang around to protect the place. A group led by somebody called Min. Now. as for price—"

"Wait. Did you just say... Min? Tall fucker, slick as hell. Half orc, half elf?" I interrupted, remembering the comments by Luna and Gessh. He was supposed to be a corpo bodyguard type, heavily armed and skilled, as well as some poster boy type, they’d make sure he had a good team if they were using him for something.

"Yup. That's the guy. He's got a crew of—"

"I’ve heard of them. If he's in charge of defenses, that makes it a whole lot tougher. The price will—” I broke off, as Luna leant in close, having heard my half of my conversation and I cursed.

“What’s this about Min?” she asked. “We got a job with him? Seriously, Kabutt, you don’t know, but I’m not doing a—”

“No wait!” Gessh snapped, cutting her sister off and grabbing my arm on the other side. “He said that Min’s the TARGET!”

“I’m in,” Luna said flatly. “Fuck yeah. Where and when? Wait, are we killing him? I mean, we’re friends with Santos…”

“I don’t fucking know, do I?” I snapped, shaking my head in disbelief, they could damn well hear we were in the middle of the conversation after all.

“We’re doing it,” Luna said firmly. “Look, boss, we ask for nothing, alright, we’ve helped with loads of shit and for you to not be willing to do this for us…”

“GIVE ME A FUCKING MOMENT," I snapped at them, waving them away.

"I'm... not saying anything," Bowdoin complained and I glared at him.

"Not you, damnit! Fucking idiot. I mean these harpies. Give me a minute." I muted the call and looked around the room, seeing that Sync was grinning, she was always happy when I was getting grief, Richie was trying not to laugh, the difference between having a military team and being the sarge, and having an ex-military team where I was just ‘the boss’ was massive, clearly.

“How bad’s the job?” he asked and I sighed.

“Honestly, sounds fifty-fifty, we’d just be a distraction, cause a fight, maybe blow the door up or something and kill… actually better if we use non-lethal, Bowdoin is a bit of a pussy anyway, maybe a load of stuns?”

“That works!” Luna agreed quickly. “I get to kick the shit out of Min and not actually fuck things up with Santos? I mean, Min was a fucking asshole, but, you know, that’s not really a killing offence.”

“You sure?” I asked, and she grimaced. Clearly a lot had gone on between them that I wasn’t party to, but the look on her face at the thought of doing this? “Okay, look. Seriously, is this important to you?”

“It is,” Luna said genuinely. “We’ve got some history and…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” I said. “We’re a team and a family. If you want him fucked up? We’ll do it.”

“Just like that?” she asked, looking at me, then glancing away as if not believing it.

“Just like that,” I confirmed, dead serious. “How much have you all done for me? Running around to help me get these two fuckheads out of their ice apartment? Seriously, if it’s that important, we’ll do it.”

“To be fair, if this is the AWF? They don’t really do defenses it’s just the guards that are armed, because nobody big league is going to risk fighting over that place. If we were going to hit a corp that makes mods? We’d hit someone with really good shit, not the average gear,” Reign said. “We could have some fun with this.”

“Fun?” I asked disbelievingly.

“Yeah, you know, use Min for this. We make it clear that the aim of the whole thing was never AWF, that way they don’t come looking for us. We make it all about him,” Luna said excitedly.

“I don’t know…” I muttered, looking from one to the other. “Seriously, this could go badly wrong.”

“I could stay in stealth,” Todds offered. “Ready to take a hand.”

“I’d be ready to snipe… That is, unless you want to…” She broke off looking at Sync, who shook her head.

“You’re second, we can share the load, and besides, when is this? We’re gonna be really busy for the next few days…”

“Good point.” I sighed. “Alright, we’ll take the job, he was offering thirty thousand, It’s a pathetic payment for the job, but hey, I guess this is more of a laugh anyway.”

“Thirty grand’s pathetic?” Richie winced. “If you don’t want it I’ll take it…?”

“We’ll have earned a hundred or more by sunup,” I assured him. “Don’t worry about shit like that, brother. You two sort your fake IDs out and your new accounts, that’s more important.”

I took one more look around the room at the beaming Luna and Gessh, the happy Reign and the amused others, then I snorted. “I better not act like I’m willing to do this normally, just in case he thinks he can get this shit for favors again.” I took a deep breath, then reactivated the link.

"Apparently, my very professional colleagues have wanted to kick the shit out of Min for ages. They’ve pulled strings, and yeah, we're in. We have three requirements. You provide all the explosives, and believe me, we want a lot. You make sure we have an escape plan, and you make damn sure that if there’s a defensive AI or anything it isn't just going to go straight for us and fry our keystones."

He stared at me openmouthed, then shut it with a click and—grinning like an idiot—sent me a new offer with those details in.

I accepted it and got the details… before starting to swear.

I knew it was too good to be true!

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