Chapter Sixty-Eight - Things Get Worse


    Chapter Sixty-Eight - Things Get Worse


    Weve had a couple of hard years, weve survived them.


    But things are about to get worse.


    --Deus Ex, open letter to the Family, 2056


    ***


    Burringham walked into the kitchen carrying two cans of soda. He extended one to me.


    I looked at it for a moment, then took it to set it onto the counter next to me.


    The staff had cleared out, and when Burringham pulled a few strings, they let his guards use the fridge. A big metal box with only one exit that was uncomfortably cold. A great place to keep someone like Linda while they asked her a few pointed questions and some quickly-hired infosec-types ran through everything her augs had picked up.


    We keep meeting in kitchens, Burringham said. And its never a pleasant sort of meeting.


    Twice isnt that often, I said.


    You say that, but it feels pretty frequent to me, he said with a smile.


    I stared at him, and even if he couldnt see my face... his smile dropped.


    Sorry, he said. Its... a habit to try and comfort the people Im talking to. Get on their side, make them feel... like people, I guess. It ought to be common courtesy, but its a skill I literally had to learn.


    Hmm, was all I could say to that.


    Burringham popped the tab on his can, then took a long swallow. Not supposed to be drinking this shit, he muttered before taking another. You were right. About Linda.


    Myalis did most of the work, I said.


    He shrugged. Then it was right. Everything was covered up, but... Lindas not some expert hacker. She knows enough to get by, more than most even, but now that the people with the right skills are actively looking. Its all there. She hired some thug to shoot me.


    You could have died.


    She paid extra for him not to, you know. He made an explodey gesture with his free hand. He was meant to shoot me with some specialised gun. Fancy, sure, but not as lethal as some other guns. He was paid a lot more to aim low. Guts, legs, my balls.


    That would have been interesting, I said.Ne/w novel chapters are published at novelhall.com chuckled. The memes would have been... oh, awful. Burringham, a politician with no balls. They make themselves.


    Was it all for the press? I asked.


    All for publicity, he agreed. Linda... fuck me. I knew shed go far, but not... not that.


    I shook my head. You knew shed be willing to hire an assassin? I asked.


    For someone else, maybe. Not for me. Not as part of some fucked up publicity stunt. I swear, Ive heard about this kind of thing in movies and soap media, not in active politics.


    She tried to kill me, I said.


    The bartender set an identical glass in front of me, nodded, then walked off.


    I hesitated. I didnt want to take my helmet off. It was safe, it was--


    No ones going to blow your head off, Deus Ex said. And if they do, Ill avenge you, or whatever.


    Wouldnt you be dead too? I asked.


    She shook her head. This isnt my main body.


    I turned towards her. She looked plenty real to me. A pipsqueak in form-fitting armour that looked real high-tech, glowy bits and all. Whats that mean? I asked.


    It means that Im at home right now, and that this bodys remote controlled. You dont think Id go out in the field wearing this little armour, right?


    Shit, I said. How many samurai are like that?


    A few, Deus Ex said. Most are who they seem. Its not a big deal. Really, it depends on the catalogues theyve invested in. A lot of them have some way of keeping you alive. Those that dont invest in something like that tend to... not stay alive, I guess. Or they become really good at ensuring that all the threats around them are taken care of before they might get hurt.


    Scary, I said. I took off the helmet and breathed in for a moment as I set it next to the drink. I took a sip, then recoiled while a shiver ran down my spine. Oh, shit, that is sweet, I said.


    I did tell you.


    I shook my head to ward off the sensation. Did you call me over just to prove that you like sweet things that much? Or was there, like, business?


    Its business, Deus Ex said. Thats all everything is, really. Even the fun parts.


    Fine. Whats this business then? You going to help with my sewer problem?


    Deus Ex looked up to me, blank and confused for a moment before understanding flashed in her eyes. Oh, that. No, Im here for something more important.


    And whats that?


    Were going to get another incursion soon. A lot of them, actually. And theyre going to be the worse sort. Were going to need every samurai we can get working as hard as they can to weather this one.


    Another incursion? We had one days ago.


    Deus Ex licked her lips. Things are... complicated. Ill invite you and Gomorrah over to my place. We can go over things there, where its more private. Suffice to say, theres going to be another.


    Arent they supposed to be once every three months? I asked.


    No, thats what people who dont understand statistics say. On average, in a year, yes, there will be about one every three months. But, if you look at the actual dates, they tend to be grouped up. Three months is the average time between them, but only because there might be a long time between two sets of incursions.


    Right, I said. I could do that much figuring out in my head. So, another fun romp, killing aliens and getting points and all that?


    Something like that, Deus Ex said. Its going to be a serious one. Not a deep incursion, but a wide one.


    I dont know the difference, I admitted.


    Ill show you, but not here. Clear your schedule for tomorrow afternoon. She grinned, and whatever seriousness she cultivated disappeared with that cocky smile. Youve never been to space, right?


    ***