No movement or noise, just corn crake and combines rattling over the plain. He tapped Lehmann's feed, looking out through his eyes, something he'd not done for many years, and it brought a rush of unwelcome memories. "OK, but we are leaving as soon as we can."
"You're lucky Kaplinski shot Kolosev first," said Chures.
"Luck has nothing to do with it. He killed Kolosev because Kolosev knew something. If Oleg had known nothing he would have shot me first. Kaplinski is insane, but he is not stupid," said Otto.
"What is his problem?" asked Valdaire.
"All of the Ky-tech had neurosurgery," said Chures. "One of the things done as routine was an empathetic damper. It was supposed to stop PTSD in Ky-tech soldiers. It didn't work so well."
"Because it turned you all into sociopaths?" said Valdaire to Otto.
"You were in the army too, you know what it is like," said Otto. "They wanted to stop us feeling guilty for performing our duty."
"I was behind a desk," said Valdaire.
"You still killed people," said Otto, "even if you only pushed buttons. You know what it means to end a life; the feeling is the same if you can see them die or not." He ushered her through a broken glass door into the office block. Wind gusted through empty steel window frames, concrete walls streaked with moisture, ancient linoleum tiles flaked to fragments. "The conditioning was reversible: flick a switch after the war, be back to normal, even scrub the bad memories away. But it went too far with Kaplinski."
"Turn left, up the stairs, first door on the left," sang Chloe.
Otto went on. "Kaplinski did not take to renormalisation. He never felt anything but the urge to fight ever again. He got out of the hospital, killed half the damn security. I was ordered to hunt him down."
"He got away," said Chures.
" Ja , he got away," agreed Otto. "And now he is trying to kill me."
No sign of him, said Lehmann over the MT . The air bike is im mobile, 50 kilometres away. I've called in the local EuPol.
He'll be gone when they get there, thought Otto back.
He's gone already, said Lehmann.
Did you check out the EM signature in this office?
Negative. No time.
"This is it," said Chloe. They stopped in front of a door.
Chures looked to Otto. He nodded. Both readied their guns.
Chures silently counted down on his fingers. On three, Otto kicked the door in, his augmented legs sending the ancient wood to pieces. Chures darted into the room, covering all angles.
"Holy…" said Valdaire.
"Well, I did tell you," said Chloe smugly.
The room was weatherproofed, its one window foamed up and ceiling repaired. Inside were six functioning v-jack set-ups, each worth a fortune, each highly illicit: couches, medical gear, nutrient tanks and hook-up. On every couch was a body, face contorted with pain.
"They're all dead," said Chloe. "Bio-neural feedback."
Otto checked the corpses one at a time; cold, stomachs bloated, dead long enough for rigor mortis to have come and gone, but not dead long. With the September heat outside, probably 50–70 hours, as he counted it, though he was no expert. Then his adjutant consulted the Grid and came back with a similar figure. Anything more precise would need tests. All were emaciated.
The last was different. "This one's alive," said Otto.
"I'll get the v-jack off him," said Valdaire. "See if I can pull him back into the Real."
"It'll kill him," said Chures.
"He's dead already," said Otto. "Pulse is weak, ECG erratic – look at him. He might be able to tell us something useful before he goes."
"Klein is correct," said Chloe. "The subject is undergoing total neural disassociation. He has minutes of life left."
"Who is he?" said Chures. He was checking the room carefully. He knocked some of the foam out off the window, allowing dusty sunlight into the room.
"Unknown. He has no Grid signature, no ID chip,"
"You're lucky Kaplinski shot Kolosev first," said Chures.
"Luck has nothing to do with it. He killed Kolosev because Kolosev knew something. If Oleg had known nothing he would have shot me first. Kaplinski is insane, but he is not stupid," said Otto.
"What is his problem?" asked Valdaire.
"All of the Ky-tech had neurosurgery," said Chures. "One of the things done as routine was an empathetic damper. It was supposed to stop PTSD in Ky-tech soldiers. It didn't work so well."
"Because it turned you all into sociopaths?" said Valdaire to Otto.
"You were in the army too, you know what it is like," said Otto. "They wanted to stop us feeling guilty for performing our duty."
"I was behind a desk," said Valdaire.
"You still killed people," said Otto, "even if you only pushed buttons. You know what it means to end a life; the feeling is the same if you can see them die or not." He ushered her through a broken glass door into the office block. Wind gusted through empty steel window frames, concrete walls streaked with moisture, ancient linoleum tiles flaked to fragments. "The conditioning was reversible: flick a switch after the war, be back to normal, even scrub the bad memories away. But it went too far with Kaplinski."
"Turn left, up the stairs, first door on the left," sang Chloe.
Otto went on. "Kaplinski did not take to renormalisation. He never felt anything but the urge to fight ever again. He got out of the hospital, killed half the damn security. I was ordered to hunt him down."
"He got away," said Chures.
" Ja , he got away," agreed Otto. "And now he is trying to kill me."
No sign of him, said Lehmann over the MT . The air bike is im mobile, 50 kilometres away. I've called in the local EuPol.
He'll be gone when they get there, thought Otto back.
He's gone already, said Lehmann.
Did you check out the EM signature in this office?
Negative. No time.
"This is it," said Chloe. They stopped in front of a door.
Chures looked to Otto. He nodded. Both readied their guns.
Chures silently counted down on his fingers. On three, Otto kicked the door in, his augmented legs sending the ancient wood to pieces. Chures darted into the room, covering all angles.
"Holy…" said Valdaire.
"Well, I did tell you," said Chloe smugly.
The room was weatherproofed, its one window foamed up and ceiling repaired. Inside were six functioning v-jack set-ups, each worth a fortune, each highly illicit: couches, medical gear, nutrient tanks and hook-up. On every couch was a body, face contorted with pain.
"They're all dead," said Chloe. "Bio-neural feedback."
Otto checked the corpses one at a time; cold, stomachs bloated, dead long enough for rigor mortis to have come and gone, but not dead long. With the September heat outside, probably 50–70 hours, as he counted it, though he was no expert. Then his adjutant consulted the Grid and came back with a similar figure. Anything more precise would need tests. All were emaciated.
The last was different. "This one's alive," said Otto.
"I'll get the v-jack off him," said Valdaire. "See if I can pull him back into the Real."
"It'll kill him," said Chures.
"He's dead already," said Otto. "Pulse is weak, ECG erratic – look at him. He might be able to tell us something useful before he goes."
"Klein is correct," said Chloe. "The subject is undergoing total neural disassociation. He has minutes of life left."
"Who is he?" said Chures. He was checking the room carefully. He knocked some of the foam out off the window, allowing dusty sunlight into the room.
"Unknown. He has no Grid signature, no ID chip,"
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