CHAPTER 48
IRIDIUM
I have no doubt that the ones responsible for my little girl’s death will be brought to justice. That’s why we have the Squadron. And I know they’ll do right by my Lynda.
Harold Kidder, father of Lynda Kidder, to the press at his daughter’s funeral
Iridium tapped the stolen Academy plans with her finger, and the holo fizzed, the pixels skating away from the digit. “The only way to insert is through the Runner entrance. It’s the most heavily trafficked and lightly guarded.”
“Right, because who cares about a bunch of wannabe grunts?” Taser said. “I never got the whole Runner shtick.”
“Me, either. Half of them are fanboys or -girls, and the other half are some creepy version of Jeeves.”
“I’m guessing you’ll get the uniforms and IDs we need?”
“Boxer is out collecting gear right now,” said Iridium. “The techhacks in Wreck City are pretty friendly with me since I gave them that load of digichips, so our clearances should check out, at least cursorily. Once you’re inside the Academy complex, nobody looks twice at you unless you’re flying or setting something on fire.” She shook her head. “Self-absorbed little bastards.”
“Didn’t you use to be one of those little bastards?” Taser’s goggles flickered with amusement.
“Indeed. Precisely why I’m doing this.”
“Oh really?” Taser said mildly, scanning through the layout section of the plans. “I thought you were doing this because Daddy ordered you to.”
Iridium slammed her fist down on the table. The projector jumped and skipped, the plans blacking out for a moment. “Are you trying to start something, Electric Eel Boy?”
“There was an Electric Eel,” said Taser with ill-disguised laughter. “Back at the end of the twenty-first century. I’ve always wondered if I was related to him. Genetic passing of powers and all that.”
“Don’t try to change the subject,” she seethed. “You just accused me of being some sort of sycophant. Is there a reason, other than your wish for a speedy and premature death?”
“I just want to make sure you’re committed to this,” he said, jabbing a finger at the projector. “If this goes south, Corp will make us disappear. We’ll be one of those stories that gets passed around by cops and vigilantes about what creeps the extrahumans are.”
She shrugged. “Blah, blah.”
“They’ve made it happen before, Iridium. You’re deluding yourself if you think a cell at Blackbird is the worst thing that can happen to us when this goes wrong.”
She glared at him. “After spending five years at the Academy, I’m a hell of a lot more committed than you are.” Iridium rubbed her arms, felt the old fears creeping up her spine. “It’s not just the surface stuff, the brainwashing and the everything’s-fine-citizen mentality the heroes have. It’s the things you don’t see. The homogenization. Being a hero is being without a mind of your own. It’s selling your soul to Corp … trusting them. And they don’t deserve it,” she spat. “Not one iota of anyone’s devotion.”
“All right, all right,” he said, his hands up in a placating gesture. “I was just testing you.”
“Yeah, well, I was a straight-A student,” she huffed. “So stop wasting my time.”
Taser’s mask pulled into a grin. “Bet you cheated. Anyway, here’s what the whispers on the street have to tell me: your girl Jet, the nutty one? She thinks you had something to do with that reporter getting killed. You and the Undergoths, together. She’s doing a pretty good job of selling it to the EC. They’re talking about going into the Rat Network after you.”
Iridium smiled—not what Taser was expecting, judging by his frown. “Good.” She pulled a plain coat over her unikilt. “Stay here and keep reviewing the plans. There’s something I have to do before we go after Ops.”
“And what would that be? Pedicure? Hair appointment you can’t miss?”
“You’re a real smart-ass for someone I could fry with a stray thought.”
“Sorry,” he said, and she thought he sounded sincere. “I always get keyed up before a job.” He gestured around him, the movement taking in the entire warehouse. “You leaving me all alone in your place?”
“Yeah,” said Iridium, shrugging. “Don’t go through my underwear drawer.”
“I’m just flattered you trust me.”
“Well, I can always kill you later,” said Iridium with a wink, and ducked out the access door before she could overthink it. She did trust him, and while she knew that should bother her … she sort of liked having an ally who wasn’t bending over backward to please her. Boxer was a good man to have behind the scenes—but Taser was the sort of man she preferred to have by her side.
Once she was in the dampening zone offered by old-style overstrung power cables, she placed a call from a hardwired telephone.
“Yo.”
“Derek, it’s Callie.”
Frostbite stopped chewing on whatever he was eating and inhaled sharply.
“Your call could really not come at a worse time. Do you have any idea what a shitstorm you’ve stirred?”
“Is Li’l Bitty Jettikins blaming her fresh bruises on me still?” She sighed in exasperation. “Would that I could slap the bitch as hard as that.”
“I assume you’ve heard that Night and the EC are panting on your heels. Talking about a full-scale raid on your Grid and the Rat Network.” Derek sighed. “Why do you have to be … you? They’re going to kill you, Iridium. Really, the best you can hope for when they come for you is a full lobotomy.”
Iridium ground her palm heel into her forehead and forced herself to keep her tone light. “Good thing I’m going to be having an iced mocha, then,” she said. “Safely above-ground.”
“Not following,” said Derek. In the background, Iridium could hear a flattie television, a man’s voice ringing out: “Pop quiz, hotshot. There’s a bomb on the bus …”
“Derek the Dork,” she said with a smile, “are you watching Keanu Whatshisface again?”
Frostbite snorted. “So what? The man was brilliant. A true artist.”
“He’s a dead flattie actor whose most famous role consisted entirely of the word ‘Dude.’”
“Not true. Have you seen Point Break? Pure artistry!”
“Derek. I need to see you.”
“No way,” Frostbite said. “I can’t leave the complex. Ever since Shadow Princess got her knees scraped, we’re on lockdown except for the Squadron and their Runners.”
“So fake a stomachache or something.” She paused, then said, “You know I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t life or death, Derek.”
He sighed. “Where?”
“Looptown Mall, one hour,” said Iridium. “In the food courts. I’ll be the one with the iced mocha.”
“This better be important, Iri.”
“Trust me,” she said. “It is.”
Frostbite was annoyingly punctual, his usual habit, and he dropped into the wire chair across from Iridium. “What? What is so Christo-damned important that I practically had to sneak away from my post?”
His hair was still blue, but Frostbite had grown lines around his eyes and mouth that made him look years older than twenty-three. His premature aging, plus the fact that he was royally pissed, didn’t make for a friendly combination.
Therefore, Iridium decided to make it short. “I’m going to hack Ops in three days’ time. I suggest you not be there when I do.”
Frostbite blinked at her. “Excuse me? You’re going to what now?”
“Ops. I’m cutting the umbilical, Derek. No more voices in your head.” She set her lips. “Without it, the heroes will have to fend for themselves. Oughta be a pretty bunch of chaos.”
He whistled. “I’d say so.”
She smiled, the thin one that she knew didn’t reach her eyes. “That bitch Jet won’t have the power of the mighty Corp to fall back on anymore.”
Frostbite’s shock was replaced with a sad look, his eyes far away. “You know, Callie, you should cut her some slack.”
Iridium cocked an eyebrow. “Slack? This coming from the only person who might possibly hate her more than I do?”
“I’m not saying that what happened between you two was right, by any stretch,” said Frostbite curtly. “But you haven’t been riding a desk at Corp for the past five years. You see things, when people consider you invisible and unimportant.” His mouth flattened with a bitter twist. “Believe me, Calista, Corp’s got something hanging over Jet. I don’t know what it is, but it’d have to be bad for her to be … well …”
“Herself?” said Iridium. “Please. Jet’s not happy unless she has a master to bring slippers and the newspaper.” She drained her coffee and stood up. “I’m hacking Ops, Derek. She needs a wake-up. They all do.”
“You’re serious,” Frostbite said.
“Duh.”
“Iridium,” he said, sounding for all the world like someone from the EC condemning her on the tele. “Have you really thought about this?”
“Have you?” she growled. “F*ck it, Derek, you’re still there. You’re still hanging around after what they tried to do to you.”
“‘Tried’ being the operative word. Obviously, it didn’t take.” He fidgeted in his chair. “I’m not like you, Iri.”
“Shocking revelation. Never would have guessed.”
He held up a hand. “Let me finish.”
She settled down.
“I can’t live like you do,” Derek said quietly. “Knowing that if I slipped, I could spend the rest of my life in a hole, closed off from everything. That if I let the Mind flunkies get inside my head again, I might not even be myself anymore.”
“Spare me the lecture,” said Iridium, kicking back her chair. “You won’t change my mind.”
“Good,” said Derek, meeting her gaze. “Because when you f*ck Corp over, I want you to give the sons of bitches a kick for me.”