The Eternal Prison (30 page)

 

“Be careful, Zeke,” I said. “Make me regret being nice to you and I will shave you bald, understand?”

 

Marko closed his eyes. “I’m just reaching for some equipment.” He opened his eyes again. This was a slightly older, thicker Marko than I remembered, like he’d picked up a few years since I’d last seen him. “To scan… them.”

 

Grisha glanced at me, and I shrugged my eyebrows. I’d come to trust the skinny Russian, despite the fact that he’d spent a few months trying to kill me. Grisha was a man after my own heart in a lot of ways—my long-lost brother, just smarter than me.

 

Michaleen. Thinking of the short little old man made my hands clench into fists. I’d found out plenty about little Michaleen Garda while I’d been hunting him—enough to be pretty sure if I ever found him, my chances of walking away from the meeting were pretty slim. But I wanted my shot at revenge just the same. Fair play or no, I had my doubts that Gall had given me everything the SSF had on the dwarf, and I wanted to dig into the police servers and see where it might lead. And so back to New York we’d come, for the one man I knew of that was the perfect combination of plugged in to the SSF databases and terrified of me: Ezekiel Marko.

 

Marko, I thought, owed me—he’d pretty much left me to die in Bellevue all those months ago. He owed me, and if he didn’t see it that way, experience told me I could
make
him see it that way. Like a gift from the cosmos, here the motherfucker was.

 

I looked back at the avatar, tightening my grip on the stock of the shotgun. The avatar was silicone and alloys, circuitry and nanotech. It was fake and controlled, and it was
me.
I wanted to destroy it.

 

“You have an Ambient Analyzer?” Grisha said, prodding Marko in the back. “You have multi-signal sweep?”

 

Marko nodded. “Left pocket. Model TR-998.”

 

Grisha snorted. “Nine-nine-eight is trash. Nine-nine-six last decent version.”

 

Marko nodded, smiling slightly. “I know! It was a forced upgrade. They literally confiscated all our originals and replaced them.”

 

Grisha snorted again. “Sure, I know the procedure. Go ahead, scan.”

 

Marko reached slowly into his pocket and pulled out a small, thin square of metal that looked like tarnished silver, a small, bright screen embedded on one side. He made some tiny gestures over it with one finger and then held it up, squinting. Behind him, Grisha leaned forward and mimicked the squint, his whole face puckering up as they examined the readout.

 

Marko swallowed and looked at me. “Holy fuck,” he said simply. “It’s an avatar.
He’s
an avatar, I mean,” he added, pointing at the other me in the room. “You’re human,” he added, looking back at me.

 

The cop closed her eye. “I know.” She opened it up again and looked at me, glowing in the dark room. “No heat signature. Ruberto sent it. To kill Marin.”

 

Marko stared at her. “Well, fuck me then, right? You were going to tell me this, when? Don’t answer.”

 

I’d never seen a System Pig look so useless and beaten. During the Plague, I’d seen Nathan Happling covered in blood and tied down in a hover after being burned out of the SSF, and he’d been ready to crack heads and call people names. This one looked like she might curl up and go to sleep.

 

Marko looked at me. “Are
you
going to kill me?”

 

I tore my eyes from the avatar and looked at him for a moment. “Mr. Marko,” I said, “you’re too useful to me at the moment. Besides, as far as killing you goes, you’re so low on the list you’ll probably die of natural causes before I get to you.”

 

He nodded. “I will certainly try to.”

 

“Kill Marin,” I said, stepping out of my shadows. The whole place was dark and damp and felt like it had been carved out of bedrock despite the machined look. It smelled of sulfur and piss, a place that had been used as a hideout for decades now. My voice sounded muffled and flat in my ears, as if it had nothing to bounce off of, buried under tons of rock. “Good idea, but I’ve got more pressing things right now, so Marin is going to have to wait.”

 

The avatar frowned. “Wait a fucking sec —”

 

I brought the shotgun up like a club and swung at it, hitting it with everything I had, the whole thing vibrating in my hands as the gun made contact with my face. The avatar went down like a real person would have, but I’d seen avatars in Chengara take bullets. I’d seen Janet Hense fly around the room taking on a Monk and come out of it without a scratch. I leaped down onto the avatar and brought the stock of the shotgun down again, and again, arms aching and breath searing in and out of me like fire.

 

At first it played dead, sputtering up its fake blood and twitching limply. My fourth shot rewarded me with a thick cracking noise, and then the white coolant started to bubble up, and the avatar went into some sort of automated defense mode, reaching up and taking hold of my neck with surprising, painful force. A second later it altered its grip and I couldn’t breathe, pain stabbing up into my head. I swung the shotgun down again, smashing the stock into its face, and with a final twitch that came close to snapping my windpipe it settled back into a gurgling, gently twitching pool of liquids. A faint smell of ozone made me gag as I sat back and struggled for breath.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Marko groaned. “That’s Avery Cates, all right.”

 

I stared at the wreckage while I sucked in air. The technology was amazing; aside from the coolant staining everything, it looked like a human being, broken and bloodied. I’d felt better, for a moment. But I knew that an imprint of me was still out there. Whoever created this one could pump out another avatar, or a dozen more, any time he wanted. And there I’d be, doing things I’d been programmed to do, and people would think it was
me,
really me.

 

“No Marin,” I said, climbing to my feet. “Not yet.” The King Worm was on my list, of course, but Michaleen was first. Michaleen had punched the throttle. Michaleen had left me behind. I leaned against one of the dark, cold control consoles embedded in the rough, clammy rock of the space, breathing hard. “I mean, that’s a fucking
year
of planning, minimum. What were you geniuses going to do?”

 

For a moment the cop and Marko stood there, staring. I gave them their moment—they’d been following a fucking android around, after all. Finally Marko looked at the cop, but she didn’t look back. She just stared at the floor, chewing her lip like she was trying to figure out how, exactly, she’d come to this—standing in some old, wrecked data haven, having a conversation with a man she thought she’d met days ago.

 

“Okay,” the cop said. “Tell him.”

 

Marko started speaking. It was, as always, one of those plans that would never work, filled with death-defying holes and plenty of blanks where you might as well write in
Avery is shot at by an infinite number of people but survives through mysterious means.
When I heard Gall’s name I twitched, but I didn’t let Marko finish—I waved my hand, and he shut up instantly.

 

“Like I said: fuck Marin for now. Grisha and I, we’re after someone else.” I pointed at Marko. “That’s why we came to New York. To grab you.”

 

His little eyes blinked in the midst of his hair. “Me?”

 

I nodded. On the floor, the avatar continued to twitch and gurgle. The distant rumble of explosions above was faint but audible, and the console vibrated slightly under my hand. “I’ve been searching for someone for
months.
I’ve tracked the little shit all over the fucking System, but I don’t think I’ve been within a mile of him the whole time.” I’d realized that Michaleen was probably the biggest fish I’d ever gone after. And I wasn’t even getting
paid
to kill him. I pointed at Marko. “My mark is connected. I’ve been chasing shadows, so I need data—I need to know what the SSF has on him. They had him in Chengara, so they’ve got a line on him.”

 

“Avery tells me you are old friend,” Grisha said, grinning at the back of Marko’s head. “He says you will be happy to help us take a look at the SSF databases.”

 

Marko squinted at me. He looked like a man who hadn’t known what
happy
meant in years. “How’d you find me
here?
”

 

I shrugged. “I didn’t. We came here to use it as a base of operations.” I smiled, spreading my hands. “
You
found
me.
” I looked at the cop again. She was still staring at my avatar, chewing her lip. She worried me. She was police, but the general lack of contempt and violence was unusual and made me anxious.

 

Marko shook his head. “Mr. Cates… I’m not sure…” He sighed. “Officer Krajian and I… we’ve been burned. We barely got out of The Rock alive.” He glanced uneasily at the cop. “And… it’s got to be Marin. He’s got to be
stopped.
What he’s
doing
—”

 

I considered this, looking past Marko at Grisha, who rolled his eyes at me in disdain. I struggled to keep my face straight. “Mr. Marko, you’re telling me you won’t
help
me?”

 

The Techie suddenly took a step forward. “No!” He swallowed, bringing his arms down with care. “I’m just warning you it won’t be as easy as plugging in. I’ll have to exploit my way in, find a back door. It might take a little time. And I’ll need some equipment.” He glanced over his shoulder at Grisha.

 

Marko was a pain in the ass but knew what he was doing, and if he’d been burned, if the Worms were after him as well, then he was motivated. When properly motivated—usually by serious fear of his own demise—Marko had done some pretty great things. I eyed the brick that Marko claimed contained Miles Amblen, supergenius. I’d heard the name, of course—I’d heard Ty Kieth say it enough times—but it didn’t mean anything to me. If a magic voice was going to help us, then so be it. I had magic voices in my
head.
What was one more?

 

Maybe everyone’s crazy,
Salgado suggested quietly.
Everyone hearing voices.

 

“Don’t mind Grigoriy,” I said, panting as I forced my leg to straighten out despite its emphatic desire to not do so. “He’s been living out of his coat for a little too long. You can relax, Grisha,” I added. “I don’t think Mr. Marko is going to cause any trouble.”

 

Grisha nodded. “And her?”

 

I looked at her. I didn’t trust cops. Marko and my… twin had trusted her, at least this far, but I wasn’t inclined to do the same. Before I could say anything or make a move, however, she straightened up, seeming to bloom back to life right in front of us.

 

“I will help,” she said slowly, putting that horrible Augmented eye on me. “Call me Krasa,” she said. “I’ll help. I have nothing else.” She smiled at me, and I found I didn’t like her smiling. “Maybe I will get lucky and be killed in the process.”

 

I smiled back. “Sure. Most people who work with me do.”

 

 

 

 

XXVI

A FUCKING PERSON OF IMMENSE INTEREST

 

 

 

 

I listened to the low roar of a war going on outside. It was like something deep in the earth below us was struggling upward, ramming its giant shoulders against the bedrock every few seconds. Every now and then dust sifted downward onto us, making me blink.

 

It still felt like the most peaceful place I’d been in months. It was dark and cool, and for the moment it was just me and the cop, sitting in the dark.

 

“I worked you, once,” Krasa said suddenly.

 

I didn’t look at her. “Every cop I meet says that.”

 

“For a while you were a priority,” she said, voice low. “After the Monk Riots, when all those creepy cyborgs went apeshit and we had to put them all down. Cops started getting killed in New York, and for a year or two Marin had us running double teams on you, trying to track you down.”

 

Smiling faintly, I shrugged. “Marin made a mistake. I guess he thought I’d just retire and drink myself to death.”

 

It was strange, having a quiet conversation with a System Pig. She sat stiffly, staring at the floor, her hands limp.

 

“We got close to you. Flushed you out of some rathole downtown. That was years ago—when things were normal. Now, I don’t even know what it means to be a cop. Most of us aren’t even human anymore. My partner was a
great
fucking cop, a legend. Used to be very high up, got some very swanky assignments, bodyguarding Undersecretaries, shit like that. Knows people. But he kept fucking up. Was always pissing people off, not obeying orders he thought were bullshit.” She looked at me. “But a
great
cop. If we’d had a dozen more like him, things would be different. He never thought much of Director Marin. And when all the orders we ever got started coming only from Marin, my partner didn’t like it. He started digging, looking to see what had happened. And what did that get him? First, broken back to captain and assigned to me, to street level. Then he kept digging into things, no matter who warned him… and now he’s gone. One of the best cops we had, just