Chapter Twenty-Seven - Stairs

“Samurai are still human under the armour and the gear. Break enough artificial organs, crush enough of their mechanical interiors, pulp their brains, and blow up their backups, and you’ll find that they are still mortal. Less so than others, but they can still be killed.

It’s something to keep in mind.”

--Deathbed confession of Timothy “Ronin-Killer” Hachette. Accused of killing three Tier One samurai. Apprehended by Tier Two Samurai ‘Blood Magnet.’ 2048

***

When we finally set out, it wasn’t with any sort of formation in mind. We kind of just took off. The only one that was kept close to the centre was Elisa and one of the girls helping her along. She was limping pretty badly, and her leg looked rough even with the bandages on it, but she was able to hold her weight and we didn’t have the luxury of waiting around to find a better way to carry her.

Some of the folks with us had some things with them. Little bags or suitcases with stuff they thought was important.

I was a lot more impressed by those carrying table legs like clubs.

Jeff and Storm took the left flank, I took the right. A pair of older guys were at the rear with the guns the security guys discarded. They apparently jammed after one or two shots, but that still meant one or two shots towards any threat.

I.... should probably have started handing out proper guns. But I wasn’t sure if they’d be needed and I wanted to save my remaining points.

I had never really paid attention to just how much noise people make when they moved, but now that it was important and I was listening for it, it was almost insulting. Some of the office sorts were more than well fed, and just walking down a corridor had them huffing and puffing. They walked on their heels and some of them coughed every few minutes.

“This way,” I whispered as I led them into one of the little passages that lead to the stairwells. The building had twelve floors and we were on the third. That is, if I didn’t count the basement. That meant that to get to the parking lot on the ninth floor we would need to climb up three stairwells.

I wasn’t sure if some of them would make it that far. Maybe they would be lucky and their hearts would give out. It was better than getting eaten.

The first climb up the stairs was an exercise in repressing frustration. The group were slow, sweating after just one flight, then creeping up the second. The entire place started to smell of sweat.

So I gestured to Jeff and Storm--who for all their chubbiness were in decent enough shape--to stay behind for a bit while I moved ahead.

Getting some fresh air was wonderful.

“You might be right,” I said as I scouted the route we would take. The fourth floor was more of a maintenance area, or maybe it was just incomplete like much of the rest of the building. Either way, it was clear of aliens.

Statistically speaking, I am right an overwhelming amount of time. What, exactly am I right about now?

I snorted. “Did they program the snark into you?”

I adopted it to better complement you, actually. I can be dull and informative if you want.

“It’s fine,” I said. “And you’re right about the way I like to do things. Helping people is nice and all, it’s just the people part that I disagree with.”

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You seem to get along well with your kittens, and Lucy.

“The kittens are my responsibility, and I know them besides. And Lucy... she’s different.”

Oh?

“Don’t pry,” I warned.

As you wish. But I do live in your head, I’m afraid that privacy, and intimacy, might be difficult.

I scowled. “But you can’t read my mind, right?”

Not without certain augmentations, no.

“Seriously?” I asked.

Each human brain is entirely unique, but they rely on the same systems to function. It still takes hours of scanning and compiling data to build a proper simulation of a human mind in order to read it. If you’re worried about other humans being able to read your thoughts, don’t be. The technology is far beyond your capabilities.

“Are you being creepy on purpose?” I asked.

Is it working?

“Bitch,” I said with a laugh.

By the time I made it back, the whole group had made it up the stairs. “Is it clear?” Storm asked.

“As glass,” I said. “Let’s get moving. We should get to the top and then get ready to leave this death-trap.”

We walked around the centre of the building, then to the stairwell on the opposite end. The office drones were getting a little more comfortable, complaining and moaning about their feet and about the state of the buildings.

I wasn’t going to disagree--I could have used a sit too--but their noisiness was irritating.

The next stairwell we arrived at was dark. None of the lights beyond the door were on and even pressing my face close to the window in its door showed more than shadows. “Damn it, did they just not install any lights?”

“The building is only six months old,” one of the drones said.

I gave him a flat look. “I don’t particularly care. Do any of you have lights? Phones?”

“Aren’t you a Samurai, can’t you summon one?” someone asked.

“I didn’t ask if you had an opinion, as I asked if you had a light,” I said.

A few of them pulled out smart phones and turned on their lights. A couple had keychain lights which did shit to illuminate anything, but were barely better than nothing. One of the lot though had the gall to frown at his phone before looking up at me. “The flashlight app costs ten credits. Will you be refunding us?”

“Turn on the fucking light or you can explain to the xenos that you stayed behind because ten credits was too much for you,” I snapped. “I swear, people.”

I yanked the door open, and when nothing jumped out to eat anyone’s face I gestured Jeff and Storm into the passage first. They had little lights on their tactical vests that shone a whole two feet ahead of them but looked cool.

I was at the back of the group this time, following all the bobbing lights as everyone made their way up.

My shoes crunched on glass and I looked down.

Off to the side, barely bright enough to be seen, was a glass tube. A neon light, broken in its middle. A glance around showed a few more tossed around.

I looked up to where the lights should have been in the ceiling above and saw the barest hint of motion in the shadows.

“Oh, fuck.”

***