They made it to the lightrail, jostling their way through a crowd, all of them talking about the shit that had gone down at Event Horizon, although nobody seemed to know what that shit had been. "Something about a fight," V heard someone say, a guy in a crisp Jinguji suit. V figured the Crystal Palace wanted to keep things hush-hush so people didn't start gonking out, pulling their money and heading back down the orbital well to safer pastures in their gated corporate communities. "Friend of mine was there," some woman said to her friend. "Haven't heard from her yet. I'm worried."
"Probably rounded up the survivors to keep them quiet," said Gotoda, in her head. He was sitting beside her, and V could feel the approximation of body-heat. "Crystal Palace is all about image. They do not want their clients to know that security failed, and that there is a rogue AI running around."
Her skull throbbed, and V felt nauseous, like if she moved too quick she'd empty the contents of her stomach onto the hardwood. Her biochip's slot kept itching, the skin around it inflamed. "Whaddya figure they're gonna do with Oiwa's body?" she asked Gotoda.
"Investigate it," said Gotoda.
V sighed, trying to ignore the hot, barbed-wire pain in her head, the hot, barbed-wire pain in her body.
Ayako was sitting across from her, pale and sweating, Buster wired into her neuroport to monitor her condition. He didn't look happy. "Ayako-sama does not have much time left," said Gotoda, after a moment. "She will not make it to the clinic."
"She seems t'be holdin' it together," said V.
"No more than you are, Valerie-san," said Gotoda, morosely.
Judy and Panam came back into their car. "Managed t'find a Biotechnica med-S.C.S.M," said Judy, passing several airhypos of biocoolant to Buster, who quickly peeled away the plastic and started administering them to Ayako, one after the other. They got a few looks from the other passengers, but nobody said anything; in any age of artificial everything, so too were peoples' concern for others. "She gonna be okay?" asked Judy, and sat down beside V.
Buster frowned, saying nothing. He looked at V. "Here," he said, and tossed her an airhypo.
She caught it. "How'd ya—"
"Thermal toggle, remember?" he said, and tapped the edge of his oculars.
V jabbed the airhypo into her arm, depressing the plunger with her thumb, feeling a cool wave of relief wash through her. Judy looked scared. "Calabacita, I'm worried," she said.
"Be fine once we get to the clinic," said V, wondering how long the biocoolant would last, watching the ring-city scud past the windows in a blur of neon colors and jumbled, shadowy shapes. She felt a little faint, tired.
"Shit, shit, shit," said Buster suddenly, disconnecting his personal from Ayako's neuroport and catching her just as she toppled forward, out of her seat. She was twitching in his arms, her oculars glitching wildly, a sheen of sweat filming her skin like slime. Buster was swearing, telling someone to get him another hypo. Judy sprinted, stumbling in her heels, from the cabin to go hit the med-S.C.S.M again, but Ayako, Buster told them, was heating up too fast. "She's going fucking nuclear," he said, and looked around, saw the crowd in the cabin accreting around them, recording the situation on their holos and chatting about it like it was entertainment. "You sickfucks!" cried Buster, turning to Ayako, trying, uselessly, to coach her back to lucidity. He turned back to the onlookers. "Stop fucking taping this, you degenerate motherfuckers, and call Trauma Team!" He raised his hand, the thing transforming into a gun. "I said get fucking Trauma Team—"
The lightrail lurched to a stop at the next platform, and a dozen ESA security-boys poured into the cabin, guns raised. Buster, unfazed, shouldered Ayako like a sack of rocks and hurled his tank-bulk into the throng of station-cops, who flung themselves out of the way in an effort to avoid being trampled into meat-mush under the borg's feet. Then Buster was out the nearest door, the pneumatics in his legs chugging hard, servos pitching to a whining shriek.
By the time Judy came back into the cabin with more biocoolant, Buster was gone, and V said, "We gotta go. Now. While everyone's fuckin' tryin' to figure out what just happened."
Judy nodded, and her and Panam followed V out onto the platform, the three of them running through the station terminal, out into the narrow streets of the ring-city. Gotoda appeared beside her, matching V's speed. "Do not use your Sandevistan," he cautioned. "You are barely hanging on by a thread, Valerie-san."
"Whaddya suggest I do, Goto?"
A map overlaid her vision, showing her the quickest route to the Technomancer clinic; it wasn't too far, just a couple of blocks from the station. "You will run like your ass is on fire. I can keep the ESA off your back," said Gotoda. "Their ICE is nothing I have not cut before, and Lucy-san and Mochi-chan are helping me, running support. We can edit the surveillance footage, make certain that the ESA cannot identify you as an associate of Buster-san's."
"What 'bout Militech?" she asked. "ESA's workin' with 'em, and Militech already's got me in their crosshairs. Myers finds out Buster drew attention to us, we're cooked, man."
"Do not worry about Militech," said Gotoda, reassuringly. He smiled placidly. "It is handled, Valerie-san."
"What 'bout Buster, man?"
"Unfortunately," said Gotoda, frowning, "he possesses corporate cyberware. Even if we edit the footage of him, he is tagged in Militech's database. Serial-numbered. To erase that data, we would need to access Militech's Earthside subnet, and we cannot do that from here." He paused, a sad kind of quiet, then said, "Besides, it does not matter now. Buster-san connected his personal link to Ayako's neuroport. He is not a netrunner, does not possess modified self-ICE. Only standard corporate ICE which, although thick, is not enough for anything but delaying the inevitable. The sporeware will have seeded his system." Gotoda looked at her, furrowing his brow. "I am sorry, Valerie-san."
V swore under her breath, then said, "Gonk always knew it was gonna end up like that, one way or another. Fuck."
"If he is lucky," said Gotoda, "he will die before the sporeware can cook him from the inside-out."
"What 'bout me," she said. "He connects t'me, I'm fuckin' infected."
Gotoda shook his head. "Buster-san will not be connecting to you directly, Valerie-san. The sporeware will not be able to penetrate the clinic's systems. Mochi-chan has made sure of that, has had time to study its infection pattern."
The Technomancer clinic was a nondescript building: black shatterproof glass, no windows, a single electronic door locked by a neural microbank. Buster was there, looking pissed-off and reeking of burnt electronics. Ayako was slumped against the wall, barely conscious, barely alive. A section of the RealSkinn on her faceplate had melted away, revealing the fried circuitry and wirework, and the human meat, underneath. "This fucking thing won't fucking open," Buster snarled, pounding his huge fists against the electronic door. "Tried ripping the fucking thing out," and he gestured at the microbank, "but the fucking piece-of-shit won't budge, and I didn't want to damage it anyway, ruin whatever slim chance I got to save the deckhead's life."
"There's no savin' me, you fuckin' gonk," said Ayako, raising her head with visible effort, like it took everything left in her to do it. She grinned, her head lolling back so she could look up at them. "'Sides," continued Ayako, her voice thin and weak, "I knew Val was gonna come. Told you… not to worry."
"Needs an SPK," V told Buster, fishing the little device out of her snakeskin blazer. She'd been keeping it on her, just in case. She slotted the SPK into the microbank; the thing beeped, unlocked the door. "C'mon," she said, helping Buster get Ayako up, "let's get her in there."
"Don't fuckin' worry 'bout me," said Ayako, her head dropping forward. Her netsuit, V realized, had melted in some places, the hardware underneath like hot cast-iron to the touch. "Gotta worry 'bout Val," she told Buster. "Gotta get that fuckin' biochip outta her head."
They walked down a long corridor, the fluorescents snapping on, a pre-recorded voice, calm and melodic, welcoming them to the clinic. The floors and walls glistened white medical tile and chrome.
"Valerie," said Judy, behind her, "your fuckin' neck. The skin 'round your goddamn chipslots is—"
"Fucking cooking," said Buster, looking at her. "Jesus fucking Christ. That biocoolant's stronger shit than I realized. You don't even feel it, do you?"
"Fuck it," said V, her and Buster hauling Ayako toward an automatic door on the far-end of the corridor. "Don't worry 'bout me—"
"Don't," interrupted Ayako. "Made that chip for you, Val," she continued, sounding like the heat was baking the words in her mouth. "I did this all for fuckin' you," she said, "so don't play this fuckin' altruistic bullshit. I'm gone, you gonk. Done. But you? You still gotta chance. Don't throw my fuckin' gift in my face 'cause you feel sorry for yourself." Ayako raised her head to look at V, her laser-pupils flickering unsteadily, like candles about to gutter out. Then, "Don't you fuckin' dare."