Zero Rogue Read online

  “What do you think is going to happen as a result of that?” Aaron cocked his eyebrow. “Stealing and killing.”

  “Yeah, but not by us.” Darwin drummed his fingers on the table. “Look, Mr. Ex-Cop. How bad do you want this Talis bitch to burn? Yo’ ass is plannin’ to kill a bitch, and you’re freakin’ on a little data theifin’?”

  Aaron closed his eyes, forcing the image of Allison’s last moments out of his mind. “Right.” He slugged half a mug of hot coffee and slammed the empty on the table. “Let’s get on with it then.”

  aron leaned against the side of the PubTran taxi as the little car rattled along. In London, ground transport was the norm, yet after two years in the UCF as a Division 0 tactical officer, hovercars had left him spoiled. The thin, plastic bench seat seemed to have a direct link to every bump and pit on the road. Each shock went from tire to frame, to seat, to spine. Adding to the discomfort, the little car smelled like the inside of a well-worn shoe. Ten minutes into their ride, the cloud of clove-scented vapor clinging to his friend became suffocating in the small space.

  Darwin, seated to his left, busied himself with his NetMini in the periphery of Aaron’s awareness. Gargantuan century towers, hundred-story plus buildings, surrounded them with a canyon of shining glass and plastisteel. His breathing fogged the tiny window. Unconsciously, he squeezed his jacket, clutching the nametag hidden inside the pocket.

  “Somethin’ interesting in the sky?”

  Aaron shifted his weight away from the wall and let his head tilt back. The roof had the same bland grey cloth as the seat, patterned with little teal squares. “Same shite for sale as always.”

  Darwin swiped onto another screen, highlighting his dark face with orange instead of blue. “You can just say you don’ wanna talk about it.” His face tinted yellow as the screen changed again. “You with them special cops a while, man. You believe in ghosts?”

  “Never really thought much about it.” Aaron closed his eyes.

  “Hmm,” said Darwin. “Ya always hear people sayin’ ghosts stick around when they have a bad end.”

  If ghosts existed, which he doubted, it would mean Allison―or what remained of her―had gotten quite an eyeful of him with other women. What would she think of him now? Drunk more often than sober, on the outs with the law, lost somewhere in a desperate search for revenge. The situation didn’t make him feel like a criminal, but the brass didn’t care. He sighed, finding it more comforting to hope nothing waited on the other side but oblivion.

  “’Til death do us part.”

  “What?” Darwin glanced over. “You mutterin’ again.”

  After Allison, every woman he charmed into bed became another tiny revenge against the gender. He pictured Talis standing half in a doorway, long hay-colored dreadlocks lofting in a casual breeze like some pre-Columbian goddess come to Earth to spite him.

  Kill your partner.

  Her words echoed in his head, repeating in an endless cycle, alternating loud and soft. The command sped up like a squeaking pixie before plummeting to a demonic timbre. Pain had lanced down his spine as the compulsion warred with his love for his wife. All his strength fought the urge but could not overcome it. His aim changed. Allison only stared at him, pleading with her eyes. She’d had so much faith in his love for her, his ability to resist, she never even tried to move. Right before his finger tensed, a bolt of agony shot from the top of his head down his entire body. Aaron forced himself to picture Talis, to get angry before he turned into a blubbering wreck in front of Darwin.

  “We here, man.”

  Aaron sat up and looked. Bright amethyst light bathed the street in front of the Infinity Casino. The little vehicle whirred past an elaborate entrance bedecked with fountain sprays. Serpents of water leapt between individual pools, flying back and forth over a long stairway split into eight sections between flat areas. Holographic tropical fish danced with Chinese dragons in the air.

  The car continued past the edifice, taking a sharp right as it ducked into a sublevel parking area. Pale grey walls slipped by, their monotony broken by the occasional bare metal wire-guide or pipe. Fist-sized floating spheres guided distant patrons to parked cars in a labyrinth of berths stacked three high. Aaron rocked forward as the PubTran braked hard in a yellow-striped patch adjacent to a walk path by the elevators. ‘PubTran Lane’ repeated in painted letters every six feet, and a flickering holo-panel depicted a smiling cartoon sphere, offering ‘car locator assistance’ for forty credits.

  “Thank you for using PubTran Taxi. Have a pleasant day,” said a placid female voice.

  A gull-wing hatch, most of the right side of the tiny car, opened. Aaron got out and straightened his suit. He frowned at the Arsenal F.C. pin below the lip of the breast pocket. The act of getting out of a car made him remember the blinding flashes from a legion of news-orbs blaring lights in his face.

  “Come back to Earth.” Darwin patted him on the shoulder. “Since we’re here, I got a idea.”

  Aaron followed him into the elevator. “Oh, this couldn’t possibly go wrong.”

  “Shimmer’s set us up with a dummy account. She hacked in some credits for us to have fun with. We gonna get paid for this little foray.”

  “If she can just hack money in, what’s the point?”

  Darwin thrust a gesture at the door, face twisting in an effort to disguise frustration. “She ain’t makin’ it outta thin air. Skim too much and it gets noticed.” He straightened up, waving both hands in front of himself as if showing off an elaborate scene. “We need to diversify our assets.”

  “I don’t think that means what you think.” Aaron chuckled. “You want to gamble.”

  “Naw, man.” Darwin gave him a playful punch in the arm. “Gamblin’ implies risk. I wanna make money.” He leaned in close. “You’s a telekinetic, right?”

  “I’ve been called worse.”

  Darwin grinned. “Ever play roulette?”

  Ping.

  Aaron greeted the busy casino floor with a beleaguered sigh. Anyone watching at that moment would have assumed his boss just told him he had to work a sixteen-hour shift for the sixth day in a row. He stood still as Darwin surged forth onto the black and maroon squared carpet, basking in light and music, the fragrance of alcohol, and a cacophony of electronic gambling.

  “Come on, man.” Darwin beckoned with a wave.

  “Can’t this wait ’til after?” Aaron fidgeted with his jacket as he emerged from the elevator.

  “I gotta scope the place out a bit. Schematics only go so far.”

  Aaron raised an eyebrow. “No virtual tour?”

  “No plug.” Darwin pointed behind his ear.

  They walked astride into the main gambling hall. Aaron pivoted to keep his face away from a woman in a clingy black suit. Flickering light inside her eyes hinted at some manner of scanning cybernetics. Casino Security. If she ran his image in the system, Division 0 would tag him. He followed Darwin past a gauzy violet curtain, which turned out to be a hologram hovering between a pair of ornate columns resembling silver cubes emerging from obsidian. Once he had wall between him and security, he relaxed. Darwin stopped short, causing Aaron to bump into him. He pondered the unmarred skin behind Darwin’s ear, hidden under a frizz of greying afro.

  “How is it a man in your line of work doesn’t have an M3?”

  “Do you got one?”

  “No, but I’m psionic,” muttered Aaron, a response drowned in the ambient noise. No, I’m a psionic. Cybernetics, especially brain implants, don’t play nice. “It messes with my chi.”

  Darwin broke out in a sweat at hearing Aaron’s voice in his head.

  “You forgot already?” Aaron flung an arm around him in a buddy hug, talking into his ear. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “That’s just strange shit.” Darwin rubbed his face. “Look, you head over to that table there an’ get started. Don’t do too well. I’ma check around a bit before I join in. This’ll work better if the guy runni
n’ the thing doesn’t know we’re together.”

  Aaron scanned the room. Six security men, all in black suits, stood at regular intervals around the gambling hall. Not one of them had surface thoughts, though they looked like ordinary humans. That meant either synthetics or military-grade dolls. The only way to find out would be to try to kill one, something he had no plans to do. He breathed a sigh of relief. As dangerous as they were, machines had no way to detect a psionic at work.

  Darwin wandered off into the crowd. Aaron filled his lungs, gave the flashing maroon-tiled ceiling a contemplative stare, and approached the bar. By the time he had a vodka tonic in hand, Darwin returned and handed him a device resembling a half-sized NetMini displaying the logo of the casino, a silver infinity mark rotating in the center of a one-by-three inch black screen. The device linked to a private account, separate from the InterTrust Commerce Facilitation Corporation, which managed most of Earth’s intangible money.

  In his hand was anonymity.

  “Half hour, maybe forty-five minutes.” Darwin headed into the crowd again.

  Aaron sipped his drink, astounded at how many people packed a casino at one in the afternoon. Seems like the only people with money are the ones without jobs. How does that happen? Wearing a grin halfway between nervous and ironic, he sidled up to the roulette station Darwin had indicated before. People slinging around big credits tended to prefer physical games of chance as opposed to digital ones. Pervasive suspicion regarding rigged program code kept the true high rollers away, but for every body at a table, a hundred more lurked in cyberspace.

  A small white ball bounced around the rotating wheel, hopping partitions before settling on a spot.

  “Twenty, black,” said the croupier.

  The players grumbled.

  From an interested, but uninvolved distance, Aaron observed several spins before advancing on the table. The uniformed man running the wheel gave him a curt nod and spun it. Others called out bets. Chirps emanated from their tiny devices and holographic chips appeared on the layout. Aaron put two chips on the split 31–32. The attendant flung the ball around the track. Aaron fixed on it but only teased at sensing its weight.

  “Rien ne va plus,” said the croupier.

  Aaron suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. The ball eventually bounced to a halt on three, triggering another series of groans. A holographic dolly appeared floating over the square, near no chips.

  He took small sips of his vodka tonic, enough only to get the taste on his tongue. After four more spins, telekinetic fiddling landed the ball on his bet, winning enough to recover what he’d lost plus a tiny gain. A petite woman with deep midnight blue hair down to her knees and chalk white skin tucked up near him two spins later. Her dress, a black ribbon attached to a metal choker, wound about her lithe figure, existed in defiance of gravity. The sight of her reminded him of his earlier interruption with Kimiko.

  “Sorry,” she whispered after she bumped his drink.

  “My fault.” Aaron smiled, savoring the fruity scent clinging to her hair. “You know, they say these games favor the house.”

  She put six chips on a 28-29 split, and two on the top line. “So I’ve heard.”

  He tossed one on twenty, inside.

  The croupier spun the wheel as a few other holographic chips appeared.

  The woman held on to the side of the table, tapping her foot and glaring at the ball. Aaron listened to the tip of her thoughts: simmering anger at a boyfriend who continually belittled her artistic endeavors and exhaustion after a twice-delayed shuttle flight from Mars.

  He shifted his attention to the orbiting ball and his weight toward her. “You know, they also say kissing an Englishman is good luck.”

  “Do they now?” She gave him a sidelong glance, causing a gleam on her azure lipstick. “What makes you think I’m in need of luck?”

  The ball settled on 21.

  “Oh, just a hunch.” He pursed his lips as the losing chips vanished. “Aetheria?”

  Her mouth opened a touch as she stared.

  “It’s quite a beautiful name, but it hardly matches you in person.” Aaron winked.

  “How…?”

  “I thought I saw you at the exhibit,” said Aaron. Her eyes widened, more answers flooded to the surface of her thoughts. “Primus City, Mars… what was it, four months ago? Didn’t some pompous ass in a Yoshnori suit make a scene about… that piece with the mermaids?”

  Chirps signaled the placing of bets.

  Faint traces of pink appeared on her face, and her eyes narrowed. She looked away, glaring at the layout.

  “Three-dimensional study of the feminine aquatic amid chaotic orbitals.” Aaron brushed his chin. “I suppose ‘Mermaids in Space’ would’ve have sounded too academic.”

  Aetheria burst out laughing.

  He placed no bets this turn, instead tapping a finger to his lip. “It makes an interesting corollary. Comparing space faring vessels to ancient sailors’ legends of sirens luring men to their deaths upon the rocks. That fool missed the symbolism and went straight to complaining about how they’d not be able to breathe.”

  “I know!” She faced him. “Lancaster’s so obsessed with his neo-realist snobbery, anything with a whiff of abstraction is subpar.”

  “Rien ne va plus,” said the croupier.

  She leaned her hip against the table, staring at the bouncing ball flying over the pockets in the wheel. “My name isn’t that pretty. Aetheria is a wide-open field of nothing west of Elysium. A desert.”

  “I think it’s a lovely name. I knew you were an artist. You have expressive eyes and those delicate hands.”

  Her head dipped forward. Aaron cringed. Too much. She flipped up, tossing her hair back and pinning him with a mischievous grin.

  “Of all the men that’ve approached me tonight, you are the most determined.” Aetheria stretched, arching her back. “Head implant? Running my face through the GlobeNet looking for facts?”

  “Not at all. I will confess to making a clumsy attempt to win your attention.” Aaron laced his fingers together and leaned one elbow on the table. “Forgive me; your presence had rather intoxicated me beyond reason. I’ve not a whiff of cybernetics. I find talented, independent women irresistible.”

  Aetheria gave him a disbelieving smirk and squeezed her casino mini. Ten chips appeared on 20. “All right, mister…”

  “Pryce.” He smiled a hopeful little smile.

  “Pryce.” She slipped her fingers into his jacket and grabbed a fistful, pulling him down to her stature. “Boys aren’t the only ones who sometimes need a little stress relief. Let’s see about that luck then. Twenty black comes up, and you got yourself an evening.”

  She stretched up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek like the Blarney Stone. A tentative gesture, but a kiss nonetheless. Aaron tracked the ball out of the corner of his eye, nudging it with the faintest hint of telekinesis. Aetheria pulled away a few inches, her stare hungry, mouth open.

  “Twenty black,” said the croupier.

  Awe, shock, worry, and a trace of regret collided on her face. She gawked at the tiny sphere sitting in the wheel, right on her bet. Aaron patted her hand where she held on to the table.

  “Sometimes bluffs get called.” He stooped to put his lips at her ear. “Told you, it’s good luck to kiss an Englishman.”

  Aetheria flashed a nervous smile at the croupier as her ten chips multiplied to three hundred and fifty. “Well, I suppose I should quit while I’m ahead.”

  He took her hand, drawing it up to his face, and kissed her on the back of the fingers. “You weren’t expecting that.” He winked. “It’s fine if you don’t want to do anything. Please don’t feel uncomfortable on my account.”

  Tension seemed to flow out of her.

  “If you happen to change your mind, meet me at the bar in an hour or so. No obligation.”

  “Nice meeting you.” Aetheria left the table, glancing back over her shoulder at him twice on her way to the elevators
leading to the hotel.

  “Please clear the table if you’re done, sir,” said the croupier.

  Aaron put a few chips out at random, not caring where the ball went. Once the elevator closed, he looked around the room for Darwin, finding no trace of him. For a while longer, he played, nudging the miniscule white sphere once to get back to breaking even. Around the time he’d almost had enough of studying a tiny ball bouncing around a spinning wheel, Darwin emerged from a doorway marked ‘Employees Only’ and blended into the crowd.

  Handheld minis chirped as bets appeared. Aaron glanced over the sea of faces for any sign of Darwin as he absentmindedly set a four-chip bet on twenty black. The croupier gave him a sympathetic look, but the ‘girl that got away’ wasn’t on his mind.

  Darwin stepped between a short, pudgy man in a suit and a wealthy-looking six-foot woman who appeared drunk, stoned, or both. Aaron cocked an eyebrow, unable to follow how the man had gotten across the room without notice.

  How’d it go?

  His friend jumped at the unexpected telepathic voice. After the subsequent shock wore off, he thought about his exploration and the path to the computer room downstairs. Everything in the man’s memory made it seem quite doable. A security guard or two, which shouldn’t be much of an issue at all. It didn’t take a lot of telekinetic power to jog a brain enough to knock someone out. That he could do even before his… incident. Finesse had always been his forte. Of course, if he had to, he could also fling a bloke out a window with ease. Months ago, lifting a man at all would’ve been tiring as hell. Satisfied with his reconnaissance, Darwin wanted to make some side money, though his motivation surprised Aaron. He intended to give whatever he won to his twenty-year-old son, Kurtis. A too-little, too-late gesture from an absent father.

  Aaron’s prepared rationale for talking Darwin out of his idiotic scheme crumbled.

  What’s the plan?

  Darwin didn’t jump that time. He locked eyes with Aaron and concentrated on a series of incremental, but small, wins leading up to a huge single payout.

  Right, then. When you want to hit, do something as a signal.