Larva
“Oh sugarplum, are we forgetting something?” Harry stared aghast as the thing kept on
coming. Six rounds. He’d fired six fucking solid-state rounds,
all centre of mass, and barely slowed her.
“Mmm, I know what comes next. Click, click, right?” Her tone was
saccharin and arsenic, all sickly-sweet and casually mocking while promising
death on the horizon, and the horizon was getting closer by the second, “That
impotent little sound that tells everyone you’re all spent. And looky-here, I’m still breathing.” Fuck,
fuck, fuck. Turn.
Just turn and run. He knew this
place, these warrens. 7th sector was his
home, baby. She could take a beating but
nobody knew this overgrown science-project like he did. Duck down into the conduit, flickering
emergency lights overhead. Past the
steam pipes, across the sheets, shin up the angle and across again. Round the corner, leap the short gap, vault
over the cross-shot and- “Nice place you got here. Love what you’ve done with the decor. Care to dance or are you having too much fun
running?” Jesus that grin. Blood on her
teeth – he knew he’d hit a lung – and
standing there fresh as shit, those red-smeared ivories gleaming in contrast to
the deepest shadow tones of her fur. She
was truly a thing of beauty, if your tastes swung towards the morbid and
suicidal – all sleek, lean muscle, perfectly proportioned and perfectly poised. AI-Father help him now, he was as boned as
boned could be.
“What... What the fuck
do you want?!” Back to the pipes, empty
slugger in paw and hanging limp. This
was... This was... where the fuck
were the zero-tol team??
“Same
thing we all want, sweetheart.
Life. But you weren’t about to
give it to me, despite all your promises of love. And those silly little children in their
expensive armour with their fancy guns... somebody really should have let them use
real rounds. Wouldn’t have helped them
but it would at least have made it better sport for me. Mmm.”
She stepped closer. Harry
froze. A vein in his forehead
throbbed. Looked like the cavalry had already
run into this walking death and met their demise. But he had a speedloader. He could be loaded, cocked and ready in...
about two seconds longer than it would take her to cross the half dozen metres
separating them and make him wave bye-bye to his wet bits. Who the hells was he kidding? He wasn’t combat-synched! The ZT guys had been and that hadn’t helped
them. As for this pitch-black nightmare
before him... Synched? She was combat. He should know. Years of his life spent working on her
neurones, her reflexes, her acuity loadout.
He knew her parameters and specs better than she did.
“I... I
can get you out. I have the access
codes. Please, just don’t kill me and
you can get what you want. Take my pass,
my karma... you could get halfway to the No-Go with them and outside of the
Core you could easily find someone to get you beyond Parliament’s reach. Look, I have a wife, children...” She smiled gently, almost kindly. He didn’t find that reassuring. Three graceful strides and she was toe-to-toe
with him, her paw stroking his cheek soothingly.
“Silly
goose. We both know I don’t need your
consent. Just what you have up here.” A
solitary finger, tapping against his temple.
His harddrive. His goddamn
CHD. Sure, give her a link, great
idea. Then she can interface with any
kinda tech she needs. Sweet. Only wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of
fucking contingency plan? Jesus wept,
they let the scientists design the weapon and the coprolithic military design
the fail-safes!
“I
know. Fuck me I know. Just, please... make it quick?” Eyes full of
pleading, heart full of despair. Her
loving smile and the gentle cooing sound she made said it all. And his screams provided the long, drawn-out epilogue.
