Cyber Dreams 4.9 - A Souvenir

Enjoy the chapter and your upcoming weekend :)

Thanks for all the feedback!

-Plum

A year ago, Juliet would probably have freaked out at the surprise of having a man waiting in her room. Fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on who you were, Juliet remained quite calm as she turned to her right and regarded the man aiming a short, wide-barreled pistol at her face. “Let’s see,” she said, “Kirby?”

“What the fuck?” Kirby’s pink-toned face darkened under his ginger stubble, and he jerked his gaze to Juliet’s right, where Eve still lingered not far from the door. “You told her about me?”

“No! I swear!” Eve sounded genuinely panicked, and Juliet couldn’t blame her. She was in way over her head, and rather than trust a stranger to help, she’d turned to someone she clearly didn’t like. Maybe it was the fact that he was a known quantity, despite her dislike of him, or maybe she’d believed Juliet was there to kill her, and she’d decided to rely on an old acquaintance to bail her out, no matter the baggage. Whatever Eve’s reasoning, Juliet was furious at herself for not listening to the woman’s thoughts more, for walking into a stupid trap where, if she wasn’t mistaken, some kind of violence was about to go down.

“Yeah? Well, someone did, idiot!” Kirby dug into his too-tight blue, ship uniform trousers, jamming his thick fingers into his front pocket, and pulled out a shrink cord. As he did so, Juliet took a step toward him, closing the gap between them to just a bit more than a meter. “Hold still, sweetheart.” He jerked his arm, thrusting his thick fist and pistol toward her face. His finger sat on the trigger, and the idea that he’d accidentally pull it sent a shiver down Juliet’s spine.

Juliet ran a hand over her insubstantial, satiny blouse. “How about you put that out of my face? I’m not even armed.” She tried to sound calm, but her frustration with herself for letting yet another person put her in a compromised position was starting to get to her, adding a bit of an edge to her voice.

“Your room’s AI has been disabled, and I’m unable to access the ship net.” Despite the situation, Angel sounded very cool and collected, and Juliet had the strange sensation of analyzing that while watching Kirby fumble around with the shrink cord. Was Angel trying to project calmness so Juliet would also be calm? Was she relaxed because she had faith in Juliet’s ability to handle this situation? Juliet’s scowl deepened—if so, it was probably misplaced; someone competent wouldn’t have gotten herself into a mess like this.

“Ah, melt it!” Kirby growled, giving up trying to operate the shrink cord one-handed. “Get over here, Eve.” He thrust the fat little gun toward Juliet again, taking a step her way. “Hold your hands up with your wrists together.” Juliet started to comply, and as she held out her wrists, she gauged the distance between her right hand and his gun—something less than half a meter. Trusting Angel to know what she was doing, she took a step toward him and, as time seemed to slow down, snatched his wrist in a vice grip, squeezing with every ounce of strength in her mechanized muscle and tendon fibers.

Her arm snaked out like a striking cobra—faster, even. In her enhanced synapses, it moved at a normal speed, but everything else was frozen in place. Kirby’s reflexes had just started to kick in by the time her cable-strong fingers wrapped around his wrist. Before he reflexively jerked against her iron grip, his face went from pink to purple, and his eyes bulged out in startled pain. Juliet could feel the bones in his wrist grinding together. His hand spasmodically opened, the gun fell to the floor, and Juliet kicked it to the side, sending it sliding under a sofa. She was still squeezing, staring into Kirby’s eyes, watching his brain attempt to form a response, when Eve jumped onto her back, wrapping an arm around her neck.

“Let him go!” she screamed, her breath hot on Juliet’s neck and ear. Juliet had no such intention—she reached up with her left hand, grabbed a fistful of Eve’s hair, and, still squeezing Kirby’s broken wrist, ducked forward and pulled, flinging Eve, with a shriek, over her shoulder. The would-be assassin crashed to the carpeted deck, but her long legs slammed against the wall, sending a painting of a flower vase careening to the side.

Kirby had found his voice, wailing, “Oh, jeez! Oh, God! My wrist! Oh, dammit, lady, let go! Let go!”

Juliet stood straight, jerked on Kirby’s arm, and backed up a few steps, pulling him after her until he stumbled onto his face. “Be glad I’m not breaking more of your bones, creep. You know how damn rude it is to put a gun in someone’s face like that?” She jerked his arm, walking around behind him as he yelped and howled, begging her to let go. Juliet had seen more shrink cords sticking out of his tight pocket, and when she was behind him, she knelt onto his lower back, still gripping his wrist, and fished one out with her other hand.

While she worked, she kept glancing at Eve, watching to see if she’d get up. Juliet had just started to secure the shrink cord around Kirby’s floppy, broken wrist when Eve rolled over and began scrabbling for the couch where Juliet had kicked the gun. “Don’t do it, Eve!” Juliet grabbed Kirby’s other wrist, jerking his arm around behind him, then looped the cord over it, pressing the activation tab. As the chemicals at the center of the polymer band broke free of their housing, it rapidly constricted, and Kirby screamed yet again. Juliet leaped up and stomped over to Eve, whose head was now under the sofa, grunting and straining, trying to reach the pistol.

Juliet grabbed her ankle and hauled her back, dragging her over the plush carpeting away from the couch. She was feeling pretty good about how she’d handled things—Kirby was face down, whimpering in pain, hands bound behind his back, and now she had the troubled bartender in hand . . . bang! Juliet’s self-congratulatory thought process was interrupted as Eve flopped to her side and fired Kirby’s pistol at her face. Juliet could only thank luck or God or whatever guardian angel was watching her that Eve wasn’t a good shot. She jerked heavily on the trigger, and though Juliet heard the bullet rip through the air near her head, it missed completely.

Fury and adrenaline sent her heart hammering, and she leaped forward, snatching Eve’s wrist and smashing it to the ground while she straddled the woman, pinning her other arm beneath a knee. “You bitch! You would kill me? For what? For wasting my free time trying to help you?” She punctuated her words by repeatedly smashing Eve’s hand against the carpet until the gun bounced free.

“I . . . I . . .” tears began to flow down Eve’s cheeks as she stammered, but Juliet had had enough of the woman, her hysteria, and utter lack of any moral character.

She stood up, jerked on Eve’s arm, and said, “Shut up and roll over, or I’ll crush your wrist like your boyfriend’s.” Eve, sobbing, complied, and Juliet stood and, still holding her in place with one small-heeled shoe, bent over to pick up the pistol. It was a snub-nose revolver, the cylinder bored to hold five fat bullets. She’d just stuffed it into her silky pants when someone pounded on her door. A second later, it beeped, and three cruise company corpo-sec soldiers burst into the room.

“Drop your weapon and raise your hands!” the lead officer said through his visor, his voice amplified by the software in his helmet. He clutched a sleek black rifle with a snub barrel lined with magnet clusters, and Juliet didn’t want to find out what sort of projectiles it could fire.

“Okay, but don’t shoot me.” She slowly reached for the pistol in her waistband, wriggled it free from her pants, then dropped it to the carpet with a thud.

“I’ve identified her as the current occupant of this room, SOA license XR713-004,” one of the other officers said, a woman with a low, raspy voice that brought flashbacks of Ghoul into Juliet’s mind.

“What’s going on here? Did you discharge that weapon?” The lead officer strode toward her; his gun angled down and to Juliet’s left.

“Thank you for not pointing that thing at my face.” Juliet tried to smile disarmingly as she shrugged and gestured at Eve, still sobbing under her foot, and Kirby, writhing and cursing, face-down on the carpet. “These two tried to jump me . . .”

“She’s a lying bitch!” Kirby cried.

“I’m identifying the loud one as Deck Cadet Kirby Yale. The other one is a bartender in the Stargazer Lounge—Evelyn Samaras.” Again, the woman with the raspy voice spoke as she walked around the room, panning her visor into every nook and cranny.

“Who discharged the weapon?” the security lead asked.

“She did . . .” Juliet gestured to Eve.

“The bitch who shattered my wrist!” Kirby’s outraged, pain-filled voice cut Juliet off.

“I’m sorry!” Eve sobbed.

“How about I send you a vid of what happened when I walked into my room?” Juliet tapped the side of her head. “That should clear things up.”

“Port’s open.” He released his thick gun, letting it hang by his side, apparently trusting the woman and the officer still standing by the door to cover him. Angel flashed a “File Transfer Complete” notification on Juliet’s AUI, so she relaxed a little, waiting for the officer to get done reviewing it. Eve continued to sniffle, and Kirby continued to fume and curse, apparently holding Juliet responsible for all the ills that had ever befallen him. After a few minutes, the security officer nodded. “Take these two into custody.”

“She’s lying! The footage is doctored!” Kirby screamed, his voice cracking.

“You have a different version you want to share?”

“Fuck you, pig!”

“Sure. Save it for the judge.” As the other two officers secured Eve with a shrink cord and then hoisted the two up, marching them out of the room, the lead officer touched his helmet, allowing his visor to snap up, revealing his face. He had a very dark complexion which caused his pale silver optical implants to stand out—Juliet had a hard time not staring at his striking countenance. “Listen, I’m not sure why you were coming back to your room with that bartender, but from the vid you shared, it looks like they meant to rob you . . . or worse. I’ll file my report, along with a recommendation that the cruise director look into compensating you for the trouble. These two were obviously up to no good, and you shouldn’t have your whole trip ruined because of it.”

“That’s awfully nice of you, officer . . .”

“Ridgeway.” He nodded curtly. “Your room’s been damaged, and they did something with the AI in here to jam comms. The director might take a while to get around to you, but the concierge team will have someone here imminently to either make things right in here,” he gestured around Juliet’s suite, “or get you a new room. You’ll be okay while they’re en route?”

“Yes, I should be fine . . .”

“Excellent.” He nodded again, then turned and strode to the door. Juliet opened her mouth, wondering if she should ask him his first name or thank him further, but the moment passed, and he was gone, the door sliding shut in his wake. She let her gaze run from the door over the wall to her left, where she saw the fat dent in the plasteel where the pistol’s slug had wedged itself. If Eve had been just a little better at shooting, a little more familiar with pulling a trigger in a panic, that wall would be dripping with brains and blood.

“You seem fine, physically, but are you really okay?”

“I’m okay, Angel. I’m just very mad at myself and disappointed in . . . people.”

“We made some tactical errors, but overall, I thought you handled yourself well . . .”

“That’s because you don’t know what I can hear.” Juliet tapped her forehead. “I tuned her out because I had that misguided notion that I shouldn’t eavesdrop so much—that I was being creepy.” She sighed loudly and moved over to the sofa to collapse onto it with a huff. “I knew she was planning to kill someone! I knew she was at least dangerous enough to get mixed up with that kind of trouble. I should have been more thorough; it wasn’t like eavesdropping on Bennet or Aya. She wasn’t a friend! She wasn’t a bystander. She was trouble with a capital T, and I shouldn’t have been so squeamish about utilizing my . . . talents.”

“I don’t think I quite realized that.” Angel seemed a little subdued, probably struggling with how to respond to Juliet’s admission—should she comfort her? Scold her? Juliet didn’t envy her.

“Don’t worry, Angel. You don’t have to solve this one.” A sudden thought struck Juliet, and she stood up and went to the bedroom where she’d left her pack. It didn’t look like Kirby had done anything to it; her stuff was all there, including her data deck and vibroblade. Even so, it felt weird being in the room knowing he’d been there before her, lurking there in the shadows, possibly doing . . . things.

She took her knife and walked back into the sitting area. As she flipped the knife out of habit, letting it tumble in the air, snatching the handle, and flipping it again, Juliet let her gaze linger on the lump of dense polymer embedded in the plasteel wall. Walking toward it, she pulled her vibroblade free of the sheath but flipped the switch off with her thumb. As the blade settled, she reached up and pried the bullet from the wall.

“Are you hoping to gather some evidence?”

“Nah, I’m hoping to gather a souvenir—a reminder.”

“A reminder?”

“Of the fact that I almost had my brains blown out for being naïve.”

“Ah, I see. That bullet is made from a high-density polymer. It was meant to deform, causing massive damage, but with little penetrating power.”

“Lovely.” Juliet dug the blue material out of the dent, noting that Angel was right; it hadn’t penetrated the wall at all, and she could see it was more than twice as wide as it must have been when new and unfired. “Would have done a number on my skull.” She held the squished bullet up in the light, noting how the polymer had a weird look—it wasn’t plastic, but it wasn’t metal. It had a kind of in-between quality, and it was heavy, far heavier than the bullets she’d been using in her SMG. “Nasty.” She’d just slipped it into one of the tiny pockets of her silky pants when her door chimed.

“I would open the door, but I’m still blocked in this room.”

“Don’t worry.” Juliet walked over and touched the view panel. It went from matte gray to a crystal-clear image of the hallway outside. A young woman with orange hair cut in a bob stood there with a tablet under one arm. She was petite and wore a crew uniform skirt, blouse, and jacket with a nametag—Val. More than that, she wore a pleasant expression as she stared into the camera; she must have guessed Juliet was examining her. Juliet let her mind wander, loosening her almost instinctual tethers as she stared at the girl’s bright, blue eyes.

How exciting! A passenger accosted by rogue crew! Davie and Tamara aren’t going to believe this when I get back. Let’s see if his stories about drunk rig workers can steal the show again after that . . .

Juliet touched the open button, and the door slid to the side. “Hey.”

“Hello! Oh goodness, you’re tall.” The girl—she seemed like she was about fifteen to Juliet—slapped a hand to her mouth. “Gosh, I’m sorry! My mouth gets ahead of my brain sometimes.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Juliet stepped back, waving for her to enter.

After the door swished shut and Juliet followed her into the center of the room, Val said, “My name’s Val, and I’m a member of the concierge staff. I’ve been instructed to make things right for you after the ordeal you suffered. I can start by having some techs come to figure out what happened to your room AI. I see there’s some sort of jamming taking place in here . . .”

“I’d really prefer a new room. It creeps me out to wonder what the criminal was doing in here alone while I was out.”

“Oh goodness! Yes, that does sound creepy!” She stepped toward Juliet, making clear eye contact, something like genuine sympathy in her voice. Juliet wanted to believe she was sincere, but her faith in people was at a low point, and she couldn’t help wondering if the concierge staff had training for just this sort of thing—how to give the impression that you had actual human empathy. “I’ll step into the hallway so I can access the ship’s systems. I need to find out if other rooms are available and, of course, to call a porter to gather your things for you.”

“I won’t need a porter, Val. I just have a backpack, and I haven’t really unpacked yet.”

“Of course! I’ll wait here so you aren’t alone as you gather your things. Once you have them, we’ll go out together. Is that fine?” She was so earnest and her voice so pleasant, Juliet couldn’t help smiling slightly.

“You can go to the hallway and start your search for a new room. I’ll be right out.”

“All right—if you’re sure.” She smiled, showing off some beautiful, straight white teeth, then, with an actual bounce in her step, started for the door. Juliet chuckled to herself as she went into her room and gathered up the clothes she’d worn the previous day. After she’d stuffed them into the top of her pack, she went into the bathroom and collected her toiletries and the swimsuit she’d left drying in the shower. A minute or two later, she walked toward the door, scanning the room so Angel could help ensure she didn’t forget anything.

“What will you do now?” Angel asked, and Juliet knew what she meant—what would she do about Eve, Kirby, Zapho, and the woman he’d wanted Eve to kill?

“I’m going to forget I ever heard that woman’s thoughts. I’m going to relax, eat some good food, exercise, and practice with the lattice. Then, when we get to Io Station, I’m gonna meet Alice’s friend and do what I meant to do from the start—prove I can pilot a gunship.”