Without giving a thought to the crowd milling around the building, Peter rushed after Eddy. He cut across the street to keep out of the way of the orks, but a few stood in his way. He pushed them out of his path as gently as he could.
“Watch it!” one shouted, but no one followed him.
Eddy was a full block ahead of him now. He ran like an epileptic on adrenaline boosters; his arms flailed, and he stumbled twice looking over his shoulder at Peter. Yet somehow he rolled on at an amazing pace, possessed by some unidentified demon of motion.
Peter knew he had to catch Eddy, that he had to find out how much Eddy knew. Had Eddy tailed him to ABTech? Did he know the location of Liaison and Breena’s place?
Eddy ducked down one street, then another. Peter almost lost him twice, but only almost. Too many times Eddy’s body failed him, and he got stuck hopping up and down in place. When Peter finally caught up to his old friend, Eddy was just turning a corner. No one was around.
Peter didn’t tackle Eddy, as he had originally planned, but scooped him up and carried him off into an alley. He dropped Eddy behind a dumpster, then knelt down and wrapped his right hand around Eddy’s neck.
“Hello, pal.”
“Hi, Prof. How’s it-How’s it-How’s it going?”
“Oh. Just great. A lot of people want to kill me.”
“And that slot you picked—?”
Peter tightened his grip on Eddy’s neck. “Eddy, I let you talk that way before because I had no idea who you were talking about. I don’t think you did, either. You were just talking about ‘women,’ your idea of women, not at all connected to a real person. Now you’re talking about a real person. Unplug it.”
“You got it, Prof.” He smiled his winning smile, which was now worn and ragged.
Peter released the pressure, but kept his finger against Eddy’s neck. “You were looking for me?”
“Yeah. Listen, Peter, I’m really sorry-really sorry-really sorry. That was a bad call I made. I shouldn’t have done that to you-to you.”
Peter was immediately suspicious. “Why the sudden change of heart?”
“What? You don’t think I can, you know-can, you know, think I did something wrong and feel bad about it?”
“No.”
“You’re right. All right-right. There’s something-something-something else. I’m out, Peter. They dumped me. I’m dead. I’m as dead as you. I wanted to, you know-know, team up like old times. You know—”
“No.”
“Please, Peter.” Eddy looked away, but Peter could see the tears shining in his eyes. “I’m really-I’m really a mess. My hand, Peter—” He raised the hand Peter had snapped. A blood-soaked rag covered it. “They wouldn’t spring for the magic-magic. I’m really messed up.”
Peter sighed. “Eddy, I don’t trust you.”
“You don’t trust me? You’re the one who out of the ether decides not to geek the sl—sorry…her, and you can’t trust me? You started this. This. Didn’t I get you-get you into the gang? Didn’t I help you get the stuff you needed?”
Peter knew Eddy was manipulating him, but had to acknowledge the man had a point.
“Yeah. You did.”
“Yeah. I did.”
“Don’t push it.”
“All right.”
“What do you want, Eddy?”
“To be the same as before. The way we used to be. We don’t need the gang. We can knock over the small stuff. Have enough to live on. You and me. Get enough money to get my hand fixed. What do you say?”
“No, Eddy. I don’t want that.”
“Why? Because of her?”
“Partially because of her. Partially because…I don’t know. I want out of that now.”
Eddy barked out a laugh. “You goin’ straight?”
“I could!”
“Right! Hey, wait a minute! She read-read-read your stuff. Your troll stuff. You gonna be human again?”
Peter didn’t know how to answer. “Yeah. I might. I almost might be.”
“You’re so lucky. I’d love to get fixed. You know, you’re a troll and all, but you got… It works-It works. Me. What? I’m a mess. I can’t do anything. I’d do anything to be cured.”
Peter stared at his friend sadly. Repairing neural damage was as difficult as genetic manipulation. Still cutting-edge, still experimental.
“All right. I’ll get your hand fixed. That’s it.”
They stood up and started to walk down the alley. “So, did you find that guy you were lookin’ for?”
“None of your business, Eddy.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“Who the frag’s this?” Breena asked when Peter returned with Eddy.
“A chummer. He’s in trouble.”
Kathryn rose from a table where she was reading Peter’s file on one of Liaison’s portables. “This is the man who betrayed you.”
“Hi,” Eddy said, insipidly.
“I don’t understand,” Breena said insistently. “Who is this guy? Why is he here?”
“He needs help. I owe him.”
“Well, I don’t. You! Get the frag out!”
“Look, his hand is busted up pretty bad. Please. I’ll pay. Fix it.”
She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it, staring hard at Peter for what seemed like a long time. She’d weighed it out. “All right.”
Hours later, while Eddy slept on the living room couch, the four of them held council over soup and bread in the kitchen.
“I dug up some stuff from the Matrix,” said Liaison. “ABTech Enterprises is buried under a sea of data. Nobody seems to know its history or what it does. The scoop I’m giving you I put together with pieces from here and there.
“It’s a privately held company that’s a subsidiary of Biogene Technologies, a biotech firm in Seattle. Biogene had some problems with Aztechnology a few years back—”
“Aztechnology!” Peter and Kathryn exclaimed in unison.
“Relax,” Liaison continued. “Since then things have cooled down. I don’t think Aztechnology is involved with the Chicago company at all. But at the time it was bad enough because Biogene was weak. A company called Yamatetsu gobbled it up. Apparently they liked what they bought, but the property was too hot to handle because of the Aztechnology hose-up. Yamatetsu melted Biogene down electronically and set it out into the data streams.
“I think they decided to hide some of the Biogene resources and research in the UCAS proper, so Aztechnology wouldn’t get involved with it. They called it ABTech Enterprises.”
“That would make sense,” said Kathryn. Then she put her hand over her mouth in surprise. When she pulled her hand away, she said, “Of course. It makes sense now. Two years ago somebody hit Aztechnology in Seattle to steal something hot. Very hot. No one knew who did it, or what they took, but now… It was Biogene Technologies, and they were probably going for some sort of recombinant DNA research.”
“They must have pooled their own work with the data they got from Aztechnology,” Peter put in, “and then worked on it here in Chicago for the last two years.”
“Maybe they’ve got it by now,” said Kathryn.
“Well, if they don’t, they’re very close.” Peter then told them what he’d just learned in the ork ghetto.
When he was through speaking, the others remained silent for several minutes. Kathryn stood up and walked over to the sink, her back to the group.
“This is drek,” said Breena. “Can’t believe they’re trying to take the magic out.”
“Well, that might not be the way they’re going to do it,” Peter said weakly. “My theory…”
Breena’s dark eyes flared as she leaned toward Peter. “You know, I’m just now realizing how selfish you are. You want to stop being a troll? Fine. But do you have any idea how many people you’re dragging down with you?” She imitated him. “‘My theory does not rip the magic out of a person…’”
“Well, it doesn’t. It just… It blocks the magic. It shuts down the genes that produce metahuman characteristics. It’s not a recombinant process. That’s too…unwieldy. All the work on metagenes along the lines of splicing and bonding has turned sour. It’s too unpredictable.”
“So what’s your trick, darling?” Breena asked coldly.
“It’s ingenious, actually,” said Kathryn, turning around. Her eyes were cold and hard. Distant. “He doesn’t want to alter the genes themselves. He wants to prevent the environment, the new element of magic in the environment, from activating the metahuman genes.”
“And you want to shut the magical environment out from the DNA.”
“Exactly,” said Kathryn. “He’s going to sidestep the recombinant process. It’s like keeping someone out of the sun. If you’re not exposed to the sun, your skin doesn’t darken.”
“Right.”
“Genes already have molecular ‘controllers’ for different possible reactions of the DNA to the environment. Peter… Profezzur, wants to turn those controllers back on as if the magic wasn’t in the environment.”
“Wiz,” said Liaison, excited more with the detail than the implications.
“And everybody will be pasty-white,” said Liaison.
“What?” asked Kathryn.
“If everyone stays out of the sun, then everyone is pasty-white,” explained Peter. “Right?”
Breena nodded. “So you could take away my ability to do magic.”
“I don’t know that it will work. And I don’t think I could do it without you wanting me to.”
“Tox!”
“Listen!” Peter pointed a massive finger at Breena. “I changed. I know what it’s like. I didn’t get something extra. I used to be part of society. I had a place. I knew where I was, where I belonged. You cannot begrudge me my desire to get that back! I’m not what I was.” He pronounced the last words with particular emphasis. “You cannot begrudge my desire.”
“No,” she said softly. “You are a troll. You know this, Profezzur. No one could have figured out everything you have and not see the truth. You are a troll. Magic is back, and you are a creature of fantasy—”
“Don’t try to make it sound wondrous!”
“It is! The world is getting jolted out of its complacency. Slowly, but it’s happening. All the rules are flipped. Which gives us a chance to write new rules, and the new rules might be better.”
“And in the meantime, I’m…” He could hear the self-pity about to come out of him, and hated himself for it. “Never mind. It may seem wondrous to you. But to me it’s already mundane. It’s just me, stuck in the wrong body.”
“You sure talk good for a troll,” said Liaison, an impressed look in her eyes.
“Thanks,” said Peter drily.
“Next step?” Breena said, changing the topic abruptly.
Peter looked around the room. “We’ve got to get into ABTech, see what they’ve got. See if they can help me. See if they can work the operation for Kathryn. See if Dr. Clarris is there.”
“Even if they can, they’re not going to let her in.”
“That’s the next step. If they can do it, we’ll sneak her in. We’ll disguise her or something. Whatever. We’ll make it happen.”
“Not without getting in there and casing the joint.”
“That would help. But we don’t have to do it that way.”
“What do you mean?”
“We know that they take women into the lab and work on them. Liaison, could you get into their records and set it up so that Kathryn was already on their list? She could simply show up, get the operation, and walk back out again.”
“That’s good,” said Breena, duly impressed. “That’s so ridiculously unexpected. You seem to have found your niche.”
“Well,” said Liaison, “I don’t want to short-sell my abilities, but operations conducted from only the Matrix make me nervous. It’s always better to have someone onsite. And I think we should case the place first. That way, we don’t hit any surprises.” She put her hand on Kathryn’s. “Sending you in there alone, with no research. I don’t like that.”
“Going in astrally is out. With the drek you describe going on in that place, any magic around AB-Tech is going to be totally slotted up. No mage in his right mind would hang out there. The etheric media has to be awfully distorted by the kind of experiments they’re doing. Going in astrally would be like asking for a nightmare.”
Peter realized that he’d avoided looking at Kathryn since things had become tense with Breena. When he did glance over, he saw her lost in thought. It looked as if she’d checked out of the conversation some time back. What was she thinking? “I should go in first. To check it out,” he said.
“Sounds good to me. You know the stuff better than the rest of us. You can go mingle and find out what’s what.”
“Wait a minute. I meant I’d be invisible or something. Like you did for Liaison.”
“Still looking for that kiss?” laughed Liaison.
Breena ignored her. “That won’t make it worth the time. We’ll dress you up and send you in to talk to these folks. Leez, can you get back into Geneering. and this time just rifle through the employee records?”
“Sure, null sweat.”
“Do you speak French?”
“No,” Peter said, confused.
“All right. Leez? Picture, ID codes, and such. Get me someone over there from North America.”
“Click.”
“Breena, I hate to burn your screen, but I’m a troll. I know there are no trolls in the industrial sciences. I looked for them. There’s no way I’m going to pass for someone who belongs to ABTech.”
“Oh, yes you will. What you are forgetting, Profezzur, is that magic exists. It’s in me, it’s in you. And with it we can do wonders with your image.”
“We’ll need more muscle,” said Liaison.
“I don’t want to do it,” Kathryn said.
“What?” Now it was Breena and Peter talking almost in unison.
“It’s off. I don’t want to go in. I don’t want to…” She looked ill and stumbled out of the kitchen down the hall. Peter got up and followed her, but stopped abruptly when she went through a door marked Women. After a moment he heard the sounds of retching. Liaison had come out into the hall. She was standing by the kitchen, concern etched on her face. Peter waited another moment, then pushed the bathroom door open.
It was a typical office bathroom, large, filled with sinks and stalls, the same as the one he’d used at the other end of the apartment, but this one had rose-colored tiles. He saw Kathryn kneeling on the floor of the first stall. He grabbed a wad of paper towels from a countertop on the way to the stall. She was breathing heavily, her hands pressed against the rose-colored metal of the stall. He leaned down and let her see the handful of towels. She was startled for a moment, but then took them and cleaned her face.
She tried to get up. Peter took her arm, carefully, and helped her.
“Thank you,” she said, her gaze averted.
“Are you all right?”
“I just… Sometimes I don’t feel well.”
“You’re pregnant.”
“There’s that.” She laughed harshly, and added, “But sometimes I don’t make myself feel too well.” Peter felt uncomfortable, as if he’d stumbled onto a private conversation she often had with herself. He backed away, getting ready to leave. “Why do you think those women do that?” she said.
“Sell the fetuses?”
“Yes.”
“I…I think they think they have no choice.”
Kathryn nodded. “I had choices. I was still going to sell my baby. Breena’s right.”
Peter was confused. “No. You…”
“Yes. I gave in.” She balled her hand into a fist and slammed it into the wall of the stall. Her jaw was clenched tightly, and her eyes shone with a thin film of moisture. “I can’t…” she said, and gasped for air. “I can’t believe myself. It’s like…I was using my son…”
Peter didn’t know what she meant. She saw his confusion, and smiled a malevolent smile that carried and revealed pain. She raised her arms to him. The images of the holos at her house flashed into his mind. “When I was a girl, I starved myself. Anorexia. Anorexia nervosa, for the pros.” Peter tried to keep his memory of the holos from showing on his face. “I was a control freak with the stamina of a teenager. Ever hear of it?”
“Eating disorder,” Peter said flatly.
“Yes,” she said harshly, “but oh, so much, much more. To see the problem in terms of eating is to simply scratch the surface. That’s the symptom. The disease…the disease…the disease is control. To master the one thing in your life you have control of. Your body. There was so much wrong happening in my life then… My mother—” She cut herself off and changed the subject. “People think, even I did, it was about weight, about beauty. It isn’t.”
She began to pace back and forth across the tiled floor. “It’s about saying, ‘I will control what I eat, what I look like, how I behave. The world is swirling around me, out of control, but I have this. I am master of my physical form.’” She stopped and rested her hands against a sink, looked at her face in the mirror. Her voice became raspy, unearthly. “You can die of control. You can master your body so well you just die. Perfect control. Nothing left to go wrong.”
She brought her palms up to her face and slapped herself. Peter took two quick steps toward her, but Kathryn held her hands out, stopping him. Her flesh burned red where she had struck herself.
“You know what I want to do?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “I want to abort the baby. I want to get rid of it.” Her chin began to tremble. “I want to forget John, too. I just want it all forgotten.” She stepped back and leaned against the wall. “I mean, look at me. Am I a mother?”
She looked terrible. Peter didn’t want to answer.
“Don’t tell me. Because it doesn’t matter what you say.” She wiped the backs of her hands against her eyes to dry them. “Because I’m not going to abort my son. That’s too easy. That’s the coward’s way out. For me. For me right now. That’d be shedding weight to feel like I was in control. I’m not fourteen, I’m not Breena living without money on the streets. I want this baby. I want John’s son. I let myself get out of control with John, and I want to keep the lack of control with our son.” She touched her hands to her belly. “I wanted the best for him. The best isn’t perfection. The best is him.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “Peter?”
“Kathryn?”
Her eyes still closed, she said, “How long does it take to feel all right? I’ve never felt all right. Most people don’t know it, but I don’t feel all right.”
“I don’t know. I don’t feel too good myself. I’m a troll.”
She opened her eyes and smiled at him. “That’s right. You are. But don’t count yourself out yet.” She closed her eyes again. “Does it take a lifetime? Or do we just never feel all right? Do some of us just muddle through?”
“I think some of us muddle. You don’t seem like a muddler, though.”
“Control, Peter. Control. It cuts both ways.” She rubbed her right hand against her forehead. “Control. Spirits! How am I going to get my company back? Now that I’ve given up my quest, going back to a nice place to work and a nice home seems like a damned good idea.”
The door to the bathroom slammed open. Breena stood in the doorway, her face a tight mask of indignation. “Prof? Your friend? Your chummer? Your pal? He’s gone.”