Cyber Dreams 2.42 - The Value Of a Hug

Here we go! Let me know what you think :)

-Plum

Juliet stepped out of the cab in Murphy’s parking garage and stood there, leaning against the polished black rear door, looking up and down the empty parking stalls. She could see the front end of the doctor’s truck poking out around the corner, near the spot where Juliet had first met her, and she could see the elevator bank off to her left, not twenty meters away. Everything looked fine, but something was making her nervous.

“Tell the cab to wait an hour,” she subvocalized as she walked around to the trunk, placed her briefcase on top of it, and took her weapons out. She popped the mag on the needler, swapped it with the magazine full of shredder rounds, and then holstered it. She slipped her vibroblade into the hidden sheath on her left forearm to grab it more easily with her dominant, much faster, augmented hand. She shook her head at the thought, took a long look at her MP5, and decided to leave it in the briefcase; it was easy enough to open if she needed more firepower.

After one more long look around the garage, Juliet walked over to the elevators, touching the call button. The door immediately opened, and she stepped in, riding it up to Murphy’s clinic. When the doors opened, she listened for a long while before stepping out, twice having to push the button to re-open the doors. Nothing suspicious came to her ears, and she exited, still bothered by that uneasy feeling at the pit of her stomach. It reminded her of the first time she’d been there, the time she’d almost bolted before Murphy could do any work on her.

“Angel, pay attention to background noises. Alert me if anything sounds strange.”

“I will. I believe I heard a door opening not far away.”

“Okay.” Juliet walked down the short hallway to Murphy’s waiting room, and through the glass in the door, she saw the salt-and-pepper-haired woman watching the door, clearly waiting for her. “She’s got cameras in the garage, no doubt,” Juliet said. She stepped up to the door and pulled it open.

“I’m glad you got my messages, Juliet! I was worried!” Murphy said, her gruff voice full of emotion as she stepped forward, holding out her arms as though to hug her. Juliet welcomed the gesture, the idea of affection so appreciated at that moment that she didn’t hesitate to lean into the embrace. Murphy patted her back affectionately and said, “You look rough, kid. Been through a lot?”

Unbidden, tears filled Juliet’s eyes, and she said, “Yeah.” Sniffing noisily, she stepped back to rub a sleeve at her eyes, chuckling in embarrassment.

“Come on, sweetie. Let’s get a good look at that thing in your arm. Maybe it’s nothing.” Juliet followed as the doctor turned, opened the door, and walked down the hallway into the operating theater, where Murphy had installed all of Juliet’s covert implants. The room was much as she remembered it—three automated surgical tables, one a bit more state of the art than the others, a curtained-off corner of the room, and clean, plastic-covered surgical carts, stainless tables, and rolling stools.

Murphy had a data terminal set up on a stainless steel counter near a big industrial sink, and she walked over to it, gesturing toward the central surgical table. “Take a seat there, kid. Take off your jacket so I can get to your arm.” Murphy tapped out a few things on her terminal, and when Juliet didn’t move from the door, she looked up with a frown. “What’s the matter, Juliet?”

“I’ve been through a lot, Murph. Remember how I was skittish in the chair when we first met?”

“Oh, sure! You kept your little cannon in your hand the whole time! C’mon, Juliet, you know me by now. No one’s here except Trojan, and he’s working down in his little cubical.”

“Well, take my previous paranoia and multiply it by ten. You care if I plug my PAI into the surgical table? I’d like her to keep track of what’s going on.”

Murphy frowned and rubbed at her chin, her thin lips falling into the expression like it was her natural state. “It’s a little insulting, but I guess I don’t care.”

“Thanks,” Juliet sighed. She set her briefcase on an empty stainless cart, then shrugged out of her blazer and tossed it beside the black leather case. That done, she moved over to the surgical table. As she climbed into it, flopping onto her back underneath the four robotic surgery arms, she subvocalized, “Angel, don’t let these damned plasteel spider arms do anything to subdue or harm me. I mean, aside from examining the implant.”

She pulled her data cable out of her left arm and plugged it into the back of the transparent data terminal attached to the table, and Angel replied, “I won’t, Juliet. I have full control of the table and can override anything Murphy tells it to do.”

“How we feeling? All set?” Murphy walked halfway over, between the table and her workstation.

“Getting there,” Juliet said. Then, perhaps to steady her nerves or give herself some comfort, she tugged the vibroblade out of the sheath on her left arm and then transferred it into her left hand. She held it, softly humming in her fist, next to her thigh, and tried to take slow, steady breaths.

“Hah, still like to be armed when the old doc’s got some work for you, hmm? Thought we got past that, kiddo.”

“Like I said, Murph, I’ve had a really shitty few weeks. No offense.”

“Okay,” Murph said, still frowning. She returned to her workstation and added, “Give me a couple of minutes to pull up the specs on that implant. I want to make sure I cut exactly where, and only where, I need to.”

“Right,” Juliet said, leaning back on the table, closing her eyes, and focusing on trying to calm her racing pulse and jittery nerves. “Angel,” she subvocalized, “you sure you don’t detect anything wrong? I feel very stressed right now.”

“Nothing strange is coming through your auditory implants, and there doesn’t seem to be anything amiss with this autosurgeon program.”

Again Juliet tried to clear her mind and relax, breathing deeply in through her nose and slowly out through her mouth. She could hear Murphy shuffling around off to her right, and she thought about how the doctor had helped her in the past, how she’d hugged her at the elevators, and then, unbidden, she caught a stray wisp of thought, a strange echo of Murphy’s voice:

Damn kid is so paranoid. Making this hard on me . . .

The thought startled her, and Juliet snapped her eyes open, jerking her head to look at Murphy. She could see the side of her face, could see the frown hadn’t gone away, and that she was intensely concentrating on something on her terminal. Juliet closed her eyes again, and this time she tried to picture Murphy in her mind, pictured her eyes and that frowning, craggy face, and then the doctor’s thoughts came through again:

Let’s see. If I can’t use the surgeon, I’ll have to activate this little bugger. Where’s the code they gave me? Aha, here it is, now what about the port, c’mon you little stinker, wake up. Okay, time to go nite-nite, kiddo. Activate.

Juliet’s eyes snapped open, and she said, “Seriously?” At the same time, acting on adrenaline and instinct, she brought her left hand over and across, slashing the humming vibroblade through her right arm at the elbow. The blade cut her flesh so quickly and easily that she didn’t even feel the resistance until it hit the bones of her joint, sliding between them, then the humming intensified, and she pushed it through until it began to grind into the plasteel arm of the table. Her arm fell to the floor, and blood pulsed and surged from her stump.

The pain hadn’t even registered yet, and Juliet scowled at Murphy as the doctor, ashen-faced, mouth open in an almost comical “O,” turned to scurry toward the door. The surgical table's arms whirred to life, and Angel said, “I’m going to stop your bleeding. Hold still.”

Juliet wanted to comply, and she tried to, but as Murphy neared the door in front of her, she couldn’t stomach the idea of the doctor getting away or getting help to harm her further. She lifted the vibroblade and tossed it. She tried to match the movements she’d learned watching Houston and White throw their knives, but she was half-reclined and throwing left-handed, and she knew if Angel hadn’t stepped in, the blade would have missed.

Angel did step in, though; despite simultaneously operating the surgical table, she helped to guide Juliet’s wrist and fingers to release the blade properly. It flew through the air to sink directly into the middle of Murphy’s back, about halfway down her spine. The doctor fell like a sack of laundry to the concrete floor, sprawled out in front of the door.

Meanwhile, the surgical table had injected Juliet’s right arm several times with various things, and she still didn’t feel any pain from the injury. She turned to watch as another spider-like arm with a spray nozzle came down and, with the precision only a machine could muster, sprayed some sort of chemical cauterizing agent into the flesh of her stump. “I hope that doesn’t hurt, Juliet. I applied copious local analgesics.”

“It’s fine, Angel. Am I good? Is the bleeding stopped?” She didn’t want to look at her ruined arm.

“It’s stopped.”

Juliet grunted and tugged her data cable free. Then, as it automatically retracted, she slid off the table and awkwardly fished her needler out of the holster with her left hand. “I’ll need your help aiming if I have to shoot.”

“I’m here, Juliet. May I ask why you severed your arm?”

“I’ll explain, but wait.” Juliet walked over to Murphy, still scrabbling weakly on the floor, blood pooling under her as the vibroblade continued to buzz, likely doing more and more damage as it wriggled in her spine.

“This . . .” she gasped, “This thing’s gonna kill me.”

Juliet sighed, stuffed the needler into her waistband, and then knelt to jerk the vibroblade free. She switched it off and set it on the cart next to her briefcase. Keeping Murphy in view the entire time, she pulled the needler out of the top of her skirt, pointed it at the doctor again, and said, “I can’t believe you would do that, Doc. I can’t believe it. After everything I did for you.”

Murphy gasped and shifted to her side, blood flecking her lips as she wheezed, “I can explain, but I’m gonna die. Trojan’s coming. Let him get me on a table, Juliet. Please. I don’t wanna die. I wasn’t going to hurt you. They . . .” she choked, her words faltering as she coughed out a long strand of bloody saliva. “They only want to study you for a while—maybe employ you!”

The door clicked, and Juliet took three steps back, lifting the needler. Trojan, with his blue, plastic and gel body and expressionless face, stood in the doorway observing her with his LED eyes. “May I aid the doctor?”

“Yes.” Juliet gestured to the surgical table with her needler. Trojan stepped forward, effortlessly lifted Murphy, and carried her to Juliet’s vacated table. He stepped around to the data console, and Juliet barked, “Keep her conscious, Trojan! If you put her under, I’ll kill you both.”

“Noted,” he said and continued to tap at the console.

“Angel, activate our jammer,” Juliet subvocalized as she watched the table’s surgical arms *whirr* into action. “Just enough to keep her from dying, Trojan.”

“Applying a nerve block, mending a lacerated artery, a puncture in her stomach, and filling the wound cavity with pressure foam for now, ma’am,” Trojan replied.

“Juliet,” Murphy coughed, “Juliet, listen to me.” She turned her head sideways, left and right, as though trying to see her. Juliet slowly moved in a circle around the table, keeping the needler out, noting how weird her other arm felt. It was numb and cold, and then she remembered it was gone, and her gaze shifted to the floor where her pale appendage lay, fingers curled, under Murphy’s table.

“How could you?” Juliet choked the question out again, raw emotion constricting her throat. “You hugged me!” The accusation in her voice sounded so strange, so out of place with the words, and Juliet snapped her mouth shut, afraid of what her emotions would have her say next.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Murphy’s voice was less strained; the nerve block must have taken effect. “They offered me so much goddamn money. I never shoulda called them. When it went out among the chop docs and fixers—someone looking for a new operator named Juliet. God, why did I call them? There was no way I could turn down that money, Juliet. I have so many people I owe. I’m barely treading water here, and the Rattlers are just a tiny part of my problems.” Her voice was a little slurred, her words slow, and it took a long while for Murphy to get all those words out.

Juliet was beyond impatient. She furiously brushed her sleeve over her cheeks, wiping away her earlier tears. She was nervous and fearful that the analgesics Angel had injected into her arm would fade, and she’d be crippled with pain. “Get to the point, Murphy. Who’d you sell me out to?”

“I mean, all I know is it’s the people who hired you. I don’t know more than you, Jules, only that they paid me a shit ton to put in their doctored implant and keep my mouth shut. They were so thrilled that you’d had the ‘idea’ of having your own doc do the work. They told me to contact you, Juliet. To bring you in, I mean. They’re probably on their way. You should bail, kid; I won’t tell them anything more. I don’t know how you knew I was activating that thing in your arm, but I promise it was the only piece of tech in you with a surprise.”

Juliet felt the hot tears filling her eyes again, felt them falling down her cheeks, and she stepped forward and pressed her needler to Murphy’s head, burying the nozzle in her gray hair above her ear. Trojan lifted his hands, staring at her, but she ignored him and hissed, “Murphy, I trusted you! I thought you were my friend! I would have helped you if you needed money! If someone was messing with you!”

“I tried so damn hard to get you to take that job for me, Juliet. I tried everything short of confessing my sins. I should have been honest, I guess.” Juliet saw tears in Murphy’s eyes, which calmed her down for some reason. Seeing her show some real emotion made Juliet feel better, and she glanced over at her things on the little surgical cart.

“How am I supposed to carry my shit out and keep this gun ready? You cost me an arm, Murph. What if they’re waiting outside?”

“Trojan,” Murphy rasped, “take Juliet to the garage, carry her things. Help her! Do not let any harm come to her.”

“Understood, ma’am,” Trojan replied, stepping away from the surgical table and moving to pick up Juliet’s jacket, knife, and briefcase. He turned to Juliet, trained his LED eyes on her, and said, “Shall we, ma’am?”

“I’m sorry, Juliet,” Murphy said, her words drowsy and slow.

Juliet wanted to cuss her out, wanted to punch her or something, but she just shook her head and followed Trojan, keeping her needler trained on the center of his back as they made their way out of the surgical suite and into the corridor that led the way to the elevators. “Do you have access to the security cameras?” she asked as they stepped into the reception area, and she saw the open elevator doors.

“Not with that jammer active, ma’am.”

“Angel, kill the jammer,” Juliet subvocalized. As she said the words, she suddenly wondered why the elevator was already open. Without a second thought, she listened to her instincts and took two steps back into the hallway, bumping the slowly closing door open with her butt. As the door began to swing closed again, separating her from her escort, gunfire erupted in the lobby.

Trojan’s torso exploded with little holes, white, translucent fluid spraying out over the carpeting. The synth, grunting faintly in a weird, halting, mechanical voice, fell to his face, and a man shouted, “Juliet, we don’t want to hurt you.” The door clicked as it closed, and the latch engaged, and Juliet dropped into a crouch, waiting for some sign of movement in the sudden silence.

“Angel, how many guns just fired?”

“Only one, Juliet. A nine-millimeter SMG.”

Juliet shifted back, crab walking, her needler trained on the thin wooden door. “Infrared,” she subvocalized.

“Of course,” Angel said, almost apologetically, as she changed Juliet’s vision to the infrared spectrum. She immediately saw the outline of a human form approaching the doorway—orange and yellow in a field of grays.

“Will this needler penetrate that door?”

“Yes, but likely slowed too much to do significant damage to that individual.”

“I can see you, Juliet! Just come with us!” the man hollered. “No one else needs to get hurt!” He crouched before the door and called again, “Juliet! Come on! Our employer just wants to debrief you!” As he spoke, Juliet saw another form stand up behind him, this one green and blue.

“Trojan?” she whispered, and then the man screamed as the green-blue figure leaped upon him. The gun fired again, and several holes appeared along the side of the door, but thankfully, they were all over Juliet’s head. The man screamed again, this time a blood-curdling sound that ended with a crack and a wet gargle. Juliet stood up and carefully approached the door. She listened to the weird mechanical wheeze of Trojan’s breathing but couldn’t hear anything else with her augmented ears.

“Trojan?” she said softly, still behind the door.

“Th-there’s n-no one e-e-e-else in the b-building, ma’am,” Trojan replied, his voice crackling and halting.

Her vision switched to the normal spectrum as Juliet pushed the door open and peered through the opening. Trojan was sprawled atop a man she didn’t recognize; though he was on his belly, she could see his face—Trojan had twisted his head 180 degrees. He was bald with black, pupilless eyes and wore his beard in a closely-shaven white goatee. He didn’t look real to her—like a bad prop from a vid.

“Y-y-ou ssssshould h-h-hurry,” Trojan said, looking up at her with blinking LED eyes. Translucent, creamy fluid was seeping out of the synth’s nose and mouth, and Juliet frowned, wondering if she should try to help him or take his advice.

“G-g-g-go!” he blurted.

Juliet nodded and stepped around him and the dead man. She looked at her fallen briefcase, blazer, and vibroblade. “No one’s here yet?”

“N-n-no!” He didn’t look at her, still lying atop the man’s body.

Juliet nodded, holstered her needler, then bent to snap open the briefcase. She tossed in her blazer and vibroblade, grabbed the handle, and hurried to the elevator. She touched the down button and began to pace back and forth as she waited for the doors to close and for the rundown old equipment to slowly winch her down to the garage level. The bells rang, the doors opened, and then Juliet noticed the dull throb she was feeling in her severed arm.

“Dammit!” she hissed. “This is going to hurt when those shots wear off, Angel.” She looked out into the quiet garage and saw a sleek, low, midnight-blue sports car parked directly in front of the elevators. The driver’s door was open, and she didn’t see anyone else within. “How funny would it be if I took that guy’s car?” She hurried past the car toward where the cab had parked, wincing as the throb in her arm intensified with her movement.

“They’d track it rather easily. We should move to highly populated garages and change the cab a few times,” Angel replied.

“Yeah, I was joking,” Juliet grunted as she flopped the briefcase on top of the cab so she could open the door with her only hand. She paused as her fingers touched the handle, and she backed up and subvocalized, “Infra-red spectrum.” As the world turned gray, and Juliet saw the brightly illuminated silhouette of a person inside the cab, she backed up, wrapped her hand around the handle of her needler, jerked it out of the holster, and ducked to the left around a big, round, concrete pillar.

Juliet stood there, struggling to keep her breathing steady, needler ready, and listened. She couldn’t see the infrared outline of the person in the cab any more, not from behind the thick concrete pillar, but that meant whoever it was couldn’t see her either. She knew there was no way they could open the cab door without Angel detecting it through her auditory implants, so Juliet trusted her PAI and closed her eyes, calming her mind and listening.

Nothing happened for several heartbeats, and she knew she was playing a waiting game with the other person, but Juliet had something going for her that they didn’t—if they waited long enough, sooner or later, she was going to hear . . .

Come on! She’s gonna run out of the garage if I sit here all day. Is she still behind that pillar? I’ve got to find out. Backup’s ten minutes out. Damn it! They’ll have my ass if I kill her! Okay, three, two, one, left, left, left . . .

The thoughts came so suddenly that they surprised Juliet, and she almost lost her concentration, but she held on. When she heard the woman think “one,” she also heard the cab door open. More than that, just as when she’d watched Violet’s tablet display through her eyes, she “saw” the woman’s perception shift as she lurched out of the cab and ran toward the left side of the pillar. With her back to the cement, Juliet sidestepped to the right, slipping around the pillar as the would-be ambusher raced around it.

Juliet almost followed after her to shoot, but then she heard the woman’s footsteps charging off up the concrete ramp, and she almost laughed. She grabbed her briefcase, slid into the cab, closed the door, and said, “Hurry. Drive toward downtown Phoenix.”