CHAPTER 52
IRIDIUM
They say there’s honor among thieves. But here, in Blackbird, everyone says that honor isn’t worth its weight in digichips.
Lynda Kidder, “Flight of the Blackbird,” New Chicago Tribune, July 2, 2112
The elevator ride to Ops was interminable. Iridium tapped her fingers against the panel as they glided through blackness.
“Nervous?” Taser’s voice rolled out of the dark and startled her.
“Eager,” she lied. “What about you?”
He paused for a moment, and when he spoke, his tone was reflective. “Once, my unit got dropped over Siberia during a blizzard, winds about fifty, sixty miles an hour. I looked down and all I could see was white, going on forever. I was scared then. Not now.”
“So I was right,” she murmured. “You are ex-military.”
“You win some kind of bet on that one, darlin’?”
“Just with myself,” Iridium said.
Taser’s hand wrapped around hers, flexible Kevlar gloves rough on skin. “I’m glad I met you, Iridium. Know that.”
The lift slowed, and Iridium disentangled herself. “Now isn’t the time for mushy stuff, Taser. It’s not like either of us is planning to die a dramatic death.”
He laughed once. “I get the feeling it’s never the time with you.”
“If we pull this off, I might prove you wrong,” Iridium said, her voice low, throaty. She couldn’t tell in the dark, but she thought Taser probably grinned.
The light panel over the lift doors turned green, and Iridium clenched her fists. She reached for the Light, pushed it outward as the door swished back.
The glow erupted into the Ops control room with a bang, light and heat surging forth. If a flash grenade could work for Keanu Whatsit in his old movies, Iridium figured it could work for her.
Taser charged into the control room, shooting electrical bolts left and right. Runners slumped over their stations; the quicker ones screamed and retreated. Someone hit the alarm. Overhead, Klaxons began to whine.
Iridium strobed the Runners hiding behind their consoles, then shouted at Taser, “Turn off the damned alarms!”
He shocked the control panel, and the Klaxons cut off abruptly. “Not like anybody can hear them.”
Iridium was about to sit at the nearest console when something hit her between the shoulder blades. She stumbled and rolled, looking up into the sooty, enraged face of a dumpy, female, grounded hero—Weather Girl or Meteorology or something equally inane. At the Academy, she’d always eaten alone, studied alone, and passed Frostbite elaborately decorated love notes in the hallway.
Well, that last had turned out well for her; on any day other than today, Derek was probably stationed next to her.
The weather girl lowered her fire extinguisher and blinked at her. “Iridium?”
“None other.”
“Oh no …” Twitching, she stared around the room, took in the situation with her big, wide eyes. “What did you do?”
Iridium whipped her foot up and kicked her in the gut, then got to her feet and kicked her again. The former hero collapsed.
“Something really cool, trust me,” Iridium said. She jerked her head at Taser. “Load them into the lift. Lock the panel and send it to the basement.”
As he did so, she pulled herself up to a console, which was locked and flashing the Academy logo. Iridium slid Ivanoff’s digichip into the drive, marrying it to the console so it became the recognized processor, along with her fake access code. After a long moment, the screen popped up a password box, and Iridium waited for the crack program to engage.
“I’m in,” she said to Taser, who panted slightly as he shoved the last unconscious Ops flunky into the lift.
“You sound surprised,” he said, coming to stand behind her.
“Me? Never.” She scrolled through the data on-screen, an icon for each active hero with GPS positioning. They spread through the Rat Network like a small, lonely constellation.
Iridium was about to enter the shutdown command when a cluster of power grids in the corner of the screen caught her eye. “Hey, Taser. Check this out.”
He leaned in, putting one hand on her shoulder. Static popped between them. “What is that?”
“It’s frequencies,” she said. “Hundreds of them. Nothing connected to the comm network.”
“And nothing receiving,” said Taser. “Just broadcasting.”
Iridium felt a cold twist in her gut. “Broadcasting what?”
Taser shrugged. “You’re the genius.”
Iridium thought about comlink, the muddled thoughts that came with wearing the earpiece. She thought about Dawnlighter’s blank features. About how Jet had gone from a thin shadow to the darling of the Academy.
Jet and her earpiece.
Frostbite, his aged face grim. Corp’s got something on Jet. You can be sure of that.
“I don’t care,” Iridium said out loud. “It’s time to end this.” She brought up the command window and typed in TERMINATE ALL.
ARE YOU SURE?
Iridium keyed ENTER and waited.
SHUTTING DOWN OPERATIONS MAINFRAME.
“Now!” Iridium snapped at Taser. “Fry the network so it can’t do a hard boot!”
Taser stuck out his hand and shocked the bank of servers underneath the console.
A great hum died away, like blood had stopped flowing in and out. Every Ops screen went black.
Taser circled back behind Iridium. She could see him now, clearly reflected in her dead datascreen. “We did it,” she said. Her heart was thudding, and she could feel sweat under her unikilt. Unbelievable as it was to be sitting in the bastion of her enemies, it was real. She let herself grin. “We f*cking did it!”
“Never doubted,” said Taser softly. “Makes me almost sorry.”
Iridium frowned. “Sorry …?”
Taser grabbed her by the hair and slammed her forehead against the console once, twice. Blood spattered over Iridium’s vision.
“Don’t fight, Calista,” Taser said.
“My name is not Calista!” Iridium summoned strobes, sent them backward blindly as Taser slammed her head again. Pain overtook her, and she dimly felt the strobes fizzling harmlessly.
Taser jerked her out of the workstation chair and sent her sliding across the floor. Iridium’s vision was all blurs and light, blood and blackness.
From his sleeve, Taser drew out a flat disc and shook it until it irised into the silvery network of wires and metal she recognized.
That bastard had stolen her own neural inhibitor.
“I want you to know I don’t enjoy this,” said Taser. “I respect you. Not many people get my respect. This is just business.”
“Oh, go to—” Before she could finish the insult, Taser slipped the neural inhibitor over her brow, then she didn’t know anything except nothingness.