Chapter 7

You Freakin’ Paranoids

The black expanse of cyberspace, streaked with gray symbols randomly crossing the air, stretched before Riley. He grinned. In the physical world, he was just Riley Winklepleck, a short, scrawny nerd no one liked. Well, except Devin. And Jane, of course. And Adam, who for some reason could put up with all his complaining, no matter how long it went on. Plus, there was his employer slash sort-of surrogate grandfather figure, Jim X. That last one was the weirdest, since the old guy used to run one of the big corporations Riley despised on principle. But Jim X had grown a conscience in his later years, and Riley knew full well that the old guy had only hired him as the Chief of Security for his giant estate as an excuse to keep Riley around.

Okay, so maybe some people like me. The thought made Riley feel rather sunny.

He glanced around the forum. Well, the piece of the Networld he’d entered was called a forum, since it was where people came to talk. But it didn’t look like anything more than the plain old Networld. The other demons were already in the middle of an argument. Go figure.

They stood several yards from Riley—all good-looking girls and dudes, except one who was making some kind of statement by choosing a paunchy, pasty, balding avatar. Riley, however, cared nothing about such moral high ground. He strode toward the group. His avatar, a swarthy, muscular man with a chill swagger, crossed the space in about three steps. It would have taken Riley at least five in the real world. Unbounded by the physical specs he’d been born with, he was free to be whoever he wanted to be.

In the Networld, he was Corsair, the kick-ass demon who’d demolished the Pandora program and uncovered the greatest conspiracy the galaxy had ever known. Well, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. He’d only played a side role in all that Streger shit. And he’d had help in taking down Pandora. The Networld didn’t care, though. He’d been partly responsible for his own legend, but he hadn’t been alone in spreading it. Here, everything’s freakin’ fake.

Riley stopped outside the ring of demons and crossed his arms. One by one, they noticed him and fell silent. He did his best to hold in a smirk. They wouldn’t respect him as much if they thought he was arrogant. He preferred to be seen as the brooding type, like Devin. Whatever was going on inside that guy’s head, he certainly looked cool to Riley.

The effect worked on Citizen Zero. They were one of the smaller Netcrews—groups of demons working toward social justice—with only a few dozen members, as opposed to the thousands who counted themselves among the Collective’s members. But each Citizen Zero demon was smarter and more dedicated than half the Collective combined. Unlike the Collective, which was big and scattered, Citizen Zero knew what they stood for. And they knew their shit. Which, as far as Riley was concerned, made them the best Netcrew in the galaxy.

“Hey, Corsair.” A red-haired demon known as Trance was the first to speak. Her face brightened as she walked toward him. Riley resisted the urge to draw back. Trance was cute and all, but he just didn’t find her flirtatious mannerisms appealing.

“Trance.” He gave her a curt nod.

“We were just talking about the Tempest Queen.” Trance twirled a red lock with her finger. “Like you asked.”

Even Riley recognized that as a coy move. It made him uncomfortable, though he knew Trance was making eyes at the chiseled-jawed avatar Corsair and not at Riley Winklepleck. Funny thing was, if he’d returned those eyes, it would have been at another avatar, and not whoever the real girl behind Trance was. If she’s even a girl.

Riley nodded again. Since the whole Pandora thing, Citizen Zero had treated him as their unofficial leader. Not that they would ever admit to it, since they were anti-authority and all.

“She’s evil, that’s for sure.” A demon known as Red Shoe, with bleached hair that seemed to glow against his dark skin, took a step toward Riley. “But nothing’s changed since the last time we checked.”

Riley wondered if he should say something instead of nodding again. But the silence added to the illusion he was trying to maintain. Of course he knew the Tempest Queen was evil. Even the mouthpieces in the mainstream news were aware of her crimes against humanity. But fewer people realized that she also ran a crime syndicate, probably to fund those crimes. And she wasn’t just dealing in weapons or drugs or any of the usual shit. What she did had put her on Citizen Zero’s radar even before Riley had brought her up looking for answers to Jane’s questions.

“Maybe our next mission should be to slap labels across the Tempest Queen’s virtu-games.” Cough Drop, the demon who sported the paunchy, pasty, balding look, spoke with a sardonic lilt. “‘Caution: We will make you connect your entire bank account to this game, and then we will make it so you can’t leave. And once your bank account runs out of money, we will disconnect you, even if that means putting you in a coma.’” He spoke in a mock-robotic voice.

Riley wanted to laugh, but instead raised his avatar’s eyebrow. “Do you think it would work?”

Cough Drop shook his head. “No one pays attention to warnings.”

True that. If Riley paid attention to every warning that crossed his path, he’d never get anything done. Still, he wished there were some way to keep people away from the Tempest Queen’s virtu-games, which were mixed in with the legit ones. The attack on his favorite pastime made him sick. Few authorities knew of the connection between the Venovian monarch and people ending up brain-dead with their bank accounts drained. The tyrant was good at covering her tracks but not good enough to escape Citizen Zero’s watchful eye. Sadly, they hadn’t been able to do anything about it so far.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” Red Shoe said, “why the sudden interest in the Tempest Queen? Thought that was one of our wait-and-see missions.”

Riley mentally scrambled for the excuse he’d prepared. He couldn’t tell them the truth, which was that he worried about what Jane would do and wanted to know as much as possible about her potential new enemy. Despite their Networld links, Citizen Zero still placed second on Riley’s loyalty ladder, next to his real friends. Truth was, he didn’t know who Red Shoe or Cough Drop or Trance or any of the others actually were. They wouldn’t be there for him if he needed them. And they probably wouldn’t be too keen on his real personality either.

Recalling what he’d meant to tell the demons, he said, “We’ve waited long enough. It’s time to do something. She’s giving virtu-games everywhere a bad name. Some are calling on the IC to ban them.”

Expressions of indignation rippled through the small crowd. Riley internally agreed with their sentiments. Virtu-games were the best, and he wouldn’t let anyone take them away.

“We’ve got worse things to worry about.” A woman’s voice shot toward him.

Riley turned to face Verity, a demon with voluptuous curves and glamorous black curls. Those plus her sultry eyes and luscious lips made her the subject of the other guys’ stares. Riley didn’t really get the appeal. “What do you mean?”

“The AIs, of course.” Verity raised her black eyebrows at him.

Uh… Shit. Riley kept his expression impassive as worry rumbled through his mind. No one could know about the AIs. The last time people had found out, Adam had ended up getting half his face cut off.

Unfortunately, ISARK already knew. So did their buddies in the Eryatian system. Though only people with tip-top security clearance possessed the information, they still talked to each other. And one of the things Citizen Zero was good at was intercepting communications.

But Riley wouldn’t let word get out. Using the full force of his avatar’s impressive features, he glared at Verity. “Who has time for rumors when people are in danger? The Tempest Queen—”

“The Tempest Queen is small fry.” Verity angled her head. “This is ISARK chatter! There could be robots walking around, looking like you and me! That’s huge.”

“Stop being freakin’ paranoid!” The words tumbled out of Riley’s mouth. Realizing that he was breaking his avatar’s character, he cleared his throat and tried to resume the tall-and-dignified persona. “They’re rumors. There are also rumors about intelligent aliens. Are you telling us that little green men are going to hack into the Networld one of these days?”

“What’s with you, Corsair?” Trance walked toward him. “Every time we bring up the AIs, you get like this.”

Nervousness raced through Riley. Trance was right. He had been acting strangely, considering that he was usually the first to jump on board the conspiracy train. For the first time, he found himself in a position to bury information instead of spread it. He didn’t like it. Knowledge should be free.

Maybe he should tell them the truth. Didn’t the universe have the right to know that robots walked among them? And those robots had been designed to take over the galaxy. Pandora’s mission had been to control humanity’s leaders, and even without her, the AIs were still better than humans at their specialties. It wasn’t fair, and a part of him itched spread the info.

But Jane would kill me. She’d made that clear the first time he’s suggested outing the AIs, shortly after they’d discovered Adam was one. A grimmer memory slipped into his mind—seeing what Streger had done to Adam. And Adam would get killed.

It was more than a secret Riley was guarding; it was someone’s life. Hiding info went against his free-world principles, but when his friend was the one at stake—screw the free world.

Armed with those reminders, he firmed his expression. “The AI rumors are a distraction. And it bothers the hell out of me that you guys are fixating on that when we’ve got real problems. Like the Tempest Queen.” Nice transition. He mentally high-fived himself. “As I was saying, it’s time we bring her down.”

“Before she brings us down.” A girl’s quiet voice floated toward him.

Riley turned toward the sound, trying to figure out who had spoken. “What do you mean?”

A girl who would have looked tiny even compared to Riley’s real-world stature appeared between two demons who had been blocking her from sight. Oh, it’s Felidae.

Felidae looked up at Riley’s avatar with round purple eyes. “I intercepted a message near the Niran system. It was the Tempest Queen saying she’d take down anyone who’d ever wronged her.” Her placid tone seemed incongruent with her words. “She’s going on a revenge sweep, and she doesn’t care what it costs. That means she’ll unveil and kill any demons who attacked her computers in the past—like Faceless did to Legion.”

A shudder ran down Riley’s back. No one in Citizen Zero knew how much that reference scared him. Legion had been a cybergang working for an actual, real life, gun-wielding gang called Faceless. When ISARK had uncovered the identities of the demons, Faceless had decided to kill them all. Riley had been among the targets. If Devin, impersonating Black Knight, hadn’t rescued Riley… I’d be dead.

The idea that something like that could happen again made his blood turn to ice. He’d never tangled directly with the Tempest Queen, but he had messed with some of her people. So had everyone else in Citizen Zero. The other demons seemed equally alarmed. Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Verity turned to Felidae. “Does the Tempest Queen know anyone’s real identities?”

Felidae shrugged. “No idea.”

“Do you have a copy of this message?”

“Of course.” Felidae put her hands together then stretched them apart again. Several words appeared before her: the Tempest Queen’s message to one of her warship commanders.

Though it was too long and too filled with sensational rhetoric for Riley to absorb each word, he got the picture quickly enough. Certain phrases jumped out at him.

“…The time has come for retribution against all who have wronged me—the traitors, the liars, the spies… Whether it was against myself personally or my allies, I shall act as the hand of justice… No one shall be spared, and no mercy shall be shown. Bring them to me on Venovi, and I shall make my enemies suffer before felling them…”

And they say we’re melodramatic. The Tempest Queen’s message made Citizen Zero’s paragraph-long calling card, which included phrases like “We are the strangers here,” and “Beliefs cannot break,” look like an offhand comment. She wasn’t just after Flame Dancer—she was after everyone.

That made her everyone’s problem.

 

Riley pulled off the VR visor and blinked, taking a moment to adjust to his new surroundings. Well, they were actually his old surroundings, but they felt new after having spent four hours in the Networld.

He sat cross-legged on the plush, crimson carpet of one of Jim X’s seaside mansions. Archangel, Jim X’s big, pointy-eared dog, lay curled in a gray ball beside him. A floor-to-ceiling window on the other side of the room showed dark waves glimmering under the light of Shimshawhenn’s two moons. The sun had been up when he’d plugged in, so none of the room’s lights were on. Not that it mattered, since the giant glowing screen on the wall was bright enough to act as one. The words “ALL SYSTEMS NORMAL” splashed across the display. Awesome. No work for me.

After taking a moment to stretch, Riley placed the VR visor on the floor. He pulled the slate out of his pocket and unfolded it. Though his time in the Citizen Zero forum hadn’t been the most productive session, he had gotten some info out of it. Most of the conversation had been about which demons had tangled with the Tempest Queen and whether they’d covered their tracks well enough. They’d also gotten into a debate about whether they should do something about the monarch-plus-crime-boss—which had quickly devolved into verbal mudslinging. The conclusion: more info was needed. Everyone agreed that the Tempest Queen had to go down, but the tyrant was a lot harder to tackle than Citizen Zero’s usual targets. Not only was she powerful, but her base of operations was in a dead zone. Can’t hack something without a Net connection.

Riley pinged Jane through the veiled slate she used to communicate with him. If she hadn’t called him from it in the first place, even he wouldn’t have been able to track it, since the program she used masked her signal and then bounced it through a bunch of random signal towers and Net drifts. Riley had written it himself.

After a few seconds, her face filled the screen. Judging by her shiny dress, she was on her way to work. “Hey, Riley. What’s up?”

Riley gave Jane the thirty-second version of what he’d learned from Citizen Zero, concluding with, “So… uh… there you have it. More reason to stay away from the Tempest Queen.”

“I know.” Jane’s voice was low with disgruntlement. “Any idea why she’s in revenge mode all of a sudden?”

“Best guess is that under the old regime, someone kept her reined in. But now that Vang’s in control and she’s tight with him, she can do whatever she wants, especially since, from what I’ve heard, Vang’s been going nuts too.”

“What do you mean?”

Archangel lifted his fuzzy head, looking at Riley with his big, round dog eyes. Riley gave the animal a fond pat. “You know how Vang was… uh…really logical before? Horrible, yeah, but the things he did made sense in a twisted kind of way. Now, he’s gone as nuts as the Tempest Queen, talking about takin’ down the IC. So far, it doesn’t look like he can actually do what he says, but all the ‘death to Kydera’ shiznit seems out of whack compared to the kinds of things he used to say. It’s pretty stupid too, since the IC had been staying out of his business. Now, they’ve got him and his underlings on security watch lists.”

“Weird.” Jane’s gaze turned thoughtful. “Maybe he gained sentience like Sarah did.”

“Maybe.” Riley scratched Archangel’s ears. “By the way, have you figured out where you’re going yet? Because… uh… my offer stands. You and Uh-Dame can always come here.” Jim X’s estate on Shimshawhenn would probably be the safest place for Jane and Adam to hide. Riley would make sure Jim X never knew about their presence, though Riley was fairly sure the old guy would be cool about it if he did. He had dozens of mansions, and a person could only be in one place at a time.

Jane smiled. “I appreciate it. Problem is, I don’t think we could reach Shimshawhenn without being caught.” Her eyes flicked to the side. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Later.” Riley ended the transmission and yawned.

His slate beeped. A message popped up in the center of the screen. Someone was requesting contact, and he stared wide-eyed at the name displayed. Devin?! He pressed the icon to accept the transmission. This had better not be a prank…

Devin’s face appeared on the screen. “Hey, kid. It’s been a while.”

 

I’m gonna miss this place. From her spot on the stage, Jane glanced around Mek’s bar. It wasn’t much—all barren walls and banged-up tables—but she’d grown fond of the safety it offered.

The electronic piece she’d composed wafted from the speakers behind her. She closed her eyes, listening for her cue. The beat pulsed through her veins, and the intertwining melodies twisted through the air. She smiled. That sounds good. She’d programmed the synthetic instruments herself, and she was pretty proud of them. When she’d first taken the job at Mek’s bar, she’d pieced together backings from existing synths she’d found on the Net. But as the weeks passed, she’d decided she needed more options. Her first attempt had been a hatchet job of a program, since she’d chopped up and sewn together bits of pre-existing code. If Riley ever saw it, he’d fall over laughing. And to think, she’d actually been a decent programmer as a teenager. Too bad she’d let those skills atrophy.

But despite the mess, her program had worked, and coding, like any other language, became easier the more one used it. The lush sounds winding around her at present were a testament to that—a far cry from the piercing wail of her first instrument.

Hearing her cue, she opened her eyes. Her gaze fell on Mek, watching from behind the bar. His were pretty much the only eyes on her. The other bar patrons didn’t seem to notice that there was a live performer before them. But if one person appreciated her music, that was enough.

She sang a soft, wordless melody. Lyrics weren’t her forte. And one didn’t always need words to convey one’s meaning. The sighing notes and melancholy turns, delivered through her light soprano voice, would tell anyone listening about her longing for something out of reach.

The music coiled around her heart, and she let it out. The stage was her escape from the fears and doubts chasing her. She would never grow weary of it, even though she did it every day for six hours—with breaks, of course. Though she was nearing the end of her current shift, she felt like she could stay forever.

A movement caught her eye, and what her gaze landed on broke the spell the music held over her. She froze, mid-melody, staring in disbelief at who had just walked in.

It was her brother. For a moment, her mind seemed incapable of comprehending that. He stared back, his face illuminated by the screen above him. Sadness tinted his eyes, yet his mouth was curved in a slight smile.

Excitement flooded her. Grinning, she leaped off the low stage, rushed to Devin, and threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.