Subject: A Bit about Bioworks...Pt. 1
Date: Wed May 03 19:36:28 MET DST 1995

I got out of the shower, feeling a whole lot better.  Too much had been
happening in the past few weeks.  I had a dozen people on my ass, a few
more that wanted money, a faulty stabilizer implant, a nice amount of
genetic damage, and a couple of injuries that didn't seem to want to
heal.  And, of course, I had Tierzha.  Translation: several hundred mil
of BioWorks R&D.  Cutting edge biotech.  And they wanted her back.  Good
thing they didn't know who had her, but I knew that condition wouldn't
last for long.

Tierzha wasn't around.  Damn.  This was Jersey City.  Last time she'd
wandered around alone, a bunch of snatchers had jumped her.  She never
learned.  People in this city were NOT samaritans.

"None of them?" asked the AI in my head, using the voice of my dead
sister.  And it wondered why I was going insane.

"None of them," I answered, subvocalizing out of habit.

"Then why did you save her when the snatchers were giving her trouble?"
it asked, in that accusatory voice.  "What happened to Ms. Save-My-Own-Ass-
And-Fuck-The-Rest-Of-The-World?"

"Ram it.  This is important."  I looked around.  There was a note on the
table.  The writing was smooth and curving, feminine, yet oddly
mechanical.  It was Tierzha's.

"She went to Wheeler's place," said the AI.  "Better give him a call,
make sure she made it okay.  It's only a few blocks."

I did just that, sitting down at the terminal and trying for a connection.
It linked, the screen flickering to life.  It wasn't Wheeler.  Suzie was
over there, staring back at me threw the monitor, wearing WAY too much
paintstick.  Her eyes were jittery, the pupils tremendous.  She was
juiced up on something serious.  What were they up to?

"Jetta!" she said.  "What's up?"

"Tierzha over there?" I asked.

"Yeah.  Me, Tierzha and Wheeler.  You wanna talk to her?"

"Sure."

Tierzha stepped into view a moment later, smiling.  Her eyes said she was
a little worried.  "Hi, Jetta."

"What's going on over there?  Why'd you go over there?  I told you to
stay here."  I wasn't angry, but I WAS annoyed.  If she died, and
BioWorks found out I'd had her in my care, I'd wind up as spare
parts...heavily damaged spare parts.

"Oh, Wheeler called up and said he wanted someone over here," said
Tierzha.  "Said he was gonna nail BioWorks, whatever that means, he and
Suzie.  He said that if he went into a seizure, he wanted me to pull the
electrodes off his head."

"WHEELER!" I shouted into it.  His face came into view a moment later.
Wheeler was damn good at what he did, a real hardass.  He kept his head
shaved because he used about three times as many trodes as normal,
claiming better response time.  Very odd, but usually he had plenty of money.

"Whattup?" he asked, his eyes in the same condition as Suzie's.  They
were flying high, hoping for a better interface.

"You trying to fucking kill yourself?" I screamed.  "BioWorks?  Knock
that shit off.  They're LOOKING for me, man.  That girl there with you,
Tierzha, they're looking for her too.  Ever wondered what'll happen if
they decide to track your ass after they fry you?"

"Just got my hands on an A-1 icebreaker.  Serious military shit," he
said.  "This'll go through BioWorks like it was nothing.  Come on down if
you get the time.  We're operating under a window of opportunity here,
though...they're rebooting the system and doing upgrades, so we've gotta
hit them now while they're weak.  Catch ya later, Jet."

The terminal went blank.


The door was locked, so I kicked it down.  He needed better deadbolts.
There was no sound inside.  I moved in quietly, slinking through the
darkened rooms, making my way over the piles of junk.  I was thankful for
the new upgrade chip I'd bought for my ocular preprocessor.  I switched
my eyes to low-light, then thermal.  Heat source in the other room.  I
stayed put and jacked the sensitivity level in oticulars up to 400%
norm.  Someone was screaming beside me, crying and screaming.  The
building shook as tears hit the floor.  Millions of bees were buzzing
into a loudspeaker.  Outside, thunder boomed across the land as cars
moved down the street--

I switched it down to a bit above normal, shaking my head to clear it.  I
peeked quickly into the back room, took a moment to analyze the image,
frozen in a window in the corner of my vision, then walked in.  Tierzha
was kneeling beside Wheeler, crying.  He and Suzie were laying on the
floor, bleeding from ears and nostrils.  Suzie was convulsing.  There was
the smell of burnt flesh in the air.

"You two dumbasses," I muttered, shaking my head.  "Just didn't know when
to fucking quit."  I looked at Suzie.  "She gonna make it, AI?"

"Hmmm.  No, I'd say she's on her way down.  Don't expect anything
coherent out of her between now and then," said the AI.

"What the hell did you help these losers for?" I asked, helping Tierzha up.

"They...they said they were going to do terrible things to me if I
didn't," she sobbed.  "I...they really needed my help, Wheeler wanted to
go in but Suzie was very afraid, I didn't want her to be scared..."

"She didn't look scared to me," I said.

"Tierzha's an empath," said the AI, audible only to me.  "She knew what
they feel.  Knows what you're feeling, too."

Tierzha really was a piece of work.  BioWorks had been trying to engineer
a companion, both for battelfield conditions and for civilian use.  A
perfect companion.  Intelligent, loyal, charismatic, and most
importantly, someone who who what you needed, when you needed it and how
best to give it to you.  They figured out how to fuck the human brain
enough to make it empathetic.  Tierzha had been the first.  She said
there were others who'd escaped with her, but she didn't know where they
were.  She said she'd know them if she saw them, though.

The thing BioWorks hadn't been counting on was that the brain had a hard
time coping with things when it knew what EVERYONE nearby was feeling.
You see, they're programmed to keep their "master" feeling good.  Tierzha
didn't have one, although the AI had noted that she was adopting me as
one.  In lieu of a real owner, the ownerless empaths tried to please
EVERYONE around them who wasn't feeling good.  It got kind of creepy,
sometimes.  Real creepy.  I hated BioWorks for doing this to someone, but
then again, what's new?

"Tierzha," I said, "what the hell am I going to do with you?"  I smiled.
"Let's get out of here before our friends come knocking."

They came knocking anyway.  Different friends, however.

It was three in the morning when my terminal chimed.  I was dozing on the
couch; Tierzha had the bed.  I snapped my eyes open and looked around
quickly.

"Bit jumpy today, aren't we Jetta?" asked the AI.

"Fuck you," I muttered.  I hated waking up.  I staggered over to the
terminal and switched it on.  I woke up almost instantly.  It was a suit.

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeees?" I said sweetly.

"Jetta Srin?" he asked.  He was wearing that generic pair of sunglasses
that seemed to be an integral part of the "suit" look.  Black jacket,
white shirt on underneath, and a blue tie with the DefenseTech
logo emblazoned on it.  He was dressed for success.

"Possibly."

"Are you employed at this time?" he asked.  Oh, shit.

"Might be."

"There are a lot of people looking for you, Ms. Srin.  A LOT."  He paused
a moment to let that sink in.  "They don't know who you are yet, but when
they find out...and they WILL find out, we both know that...you can be
sure that they won't knock when they get there.  I know who you are, and
what you've done.  The least you can do is give me a straight answer."

"Shit.  No, I'm not employed."

"Wow...gloves come off pretty quickly with these guys," chuckled the AI.
I winced.  "Don't let him see you squirming in your seat like that, Jetta."

"I have a job that's fairly important," said the suit.  "It's regarding
another corporation, so I'd prefer it if we didn't have to use company
men for this.  It would be...bad, if they were discovered.  We like to
hire independants for these.  Unfortunately, our regular man isn't
available.  He told us to check you out if he wasn't around."

"Not available?  You mean, hiding or dead?"

"Not available."

"What kind of job?"

"Regular espionage.  No hits involved.  I can't give you specifics until
you agree."

"Fuck that.  Do it now or take a hike."

"BioWorks took a hit not too long ago," he said.  I was surprised at his
sudden straightforwardness.  "Not a bad one, but it came at a bad time.
>From what we've gathered, the intruders were killed by something new.
Something pretty dangerous."

"Black ICE?"

"No, Ms. Srin.  Another Decker, running some kind of new killing
program," said the suit.  "Extremely dangerous, because it wasn't fooled
or crippled by the cracker the intruders were using, and that was a
state-of-the-art virus."

"I'm not a cowgirl.  You want someone else."

"No.  You see," he said, "the information we need would not be kept on
the Matrix, or even computers connected to it.  It'll be INSIDE the
BioWorks facility in Newark."

"How the hell do you expect this to work?" I asked.  "Or are you just
trying a new way to off me?  Have me off myself."

"We've got some new technology you'd like," he said.  "ThinThread suit,
treated with cameleoline with a reflective backing, to repel lasers.
Woven ThinThread plates with honeycombed titanium-steel backings to soak
up the big ones.  Superinsulated lining, with an integral cooling
system.  It only needs to be vented once every twenty minutes, so you can
effectively remain invisible to thermal imaging for that length of time.
You'd be like a tank in this, an invisible tank.  And if you pull this
off, we'll let you keep it."

"This is starting to sound a little better.  I'll need floorplans,
location of the computer in question, things like that.  Some better
guns, too."

"This one has to be quiet."

"Fair enough.  Some better knives, then."

"Done."

"How much is this paying?"

"Mostly benefits, but we'll give you a few hundred thousand to cover
expenses and such.  Aside from that, you get the suit, the weapons.
We'll have Ms. Muller back off from you.  Renker will be removed.  Also,
we'll arrange for you and Tierzha to disappear."

"A lot of people are trying to arrange for me to disappear," I said.
"Disappear into the fucking Meadowlands."

"We were thinking offworld, or possible west coast," said the suit.

"This is sounding better and better.  Two more conditions."

"Name them."

"First, I'm gonna need help.  I can't do a facility like that alone."

"We understand," said the suit.  "There will be two others."

"I need you to take Tierzha into custody while I'm gone," I said.  "Keep
her safe.  I'm trying to be nice here.  Something happens to her, a copy
of this conversation goes to the media.  Got it?"

"You don't know what company I'm from," he said with a smug smile.

"Your tie says DefenseTech, asshole," I chuckled, pointing.  He glanced
down, then frown.  "I'm sure the boss likes it, but don't wear it while
you're hiring mercs, okay?"

"Is it a deal?" he asked.

"Yeah.  It's a deal."  He smiled, and the terminal switched off.  Ahhh,
shit.  So much for living to a ripe old age.

"Jetta?  What was that?" Tierzha called, from the bedroom.  I heard her
getting up.

"Nothing.  Go back to bed.  I'm just trying to get some things
straightened out.  Things are looking better," I said.  "Go back to sleep."




From Blitz <blitz@crow.cybercom.com>
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: A Bit About BioWorks...pt 2
Date: Fri May 05 06:34:48 MET DST 1995
Organization: CyberComm Online Services

The suit gave me a ring the next day.  Same guy, same outfit, different
tie...it didn't have the DefenseTech logo on it.  Seemed he was growing a
brain.  That could be bad.  I didn't like working for people with
brains.  They outsmarted me from time to time.

I was a bit surprised at the two guys that were going in with me.  I'd
been expecting two ninjas.  Only one of them was a ninja, who was
introduced to me simply as Yoshi.  I knew a lot of Yoshis.  I didn't
recognize this one.  Medium height, medium build, hair cropped short in a
low spike.  His face looked like the face of every other tourist or suit
I'd ever seen in Japan.  He had a very subtle look to him, I could tell
that already.  If someone had asked me a week from now what he looked
like, I wouldn't be able to describe him...without calling up a stored
image, that was.  I made sure to put the guy on file, even though he'd
probably have some surgery done after the job.

The other looked like a German at first.  Tall, a tennis player's body,
narrow athletic hips and a waspish waist.  He had long blond hair combed
over to the side, and some of the coldest blue eyes I'd ever seen.  Hans
wasn't one for being conservative.  He wore an ankle-length black leather
jacket, with matching pants and shirt.  I spotted a ThinThread logo on
the inner lining.  I placed him as an Ostlander after I had more time to
observe him.  The arrogant tilt of the jaw, the aristocratic accent when
he spoke German...I knew these all too well.

The driver of the car was another Japanese man, quite a bit smaller than
Yoshi.  I wasn't told his name, or even an alias to call him by.  He
moved with a ninja's grace.  I had a feeling he wouldn't just be driving
the car, but the suit had layed down the plan for us already and we
hadn't been told exactly what the driver would be doing, other than
dropping us off and waiting two blocks away.

Whatever these DefenseTech boys had against BioWorks, they knew more than
I thought they would.  The plan looked good by me, although I would've
liked more of a distraction.  It was set up so that each of us would be
taking an alternate route through the building, hopefully ending up at
the target computer at the same time, getting the files we needed,
generating three copies, and taking three seperate routes out.  After the
first operative arrived at the getaway car, the driver would wait exactly
two minutes.  After that, any stragglers were on their own.

They were just as paranoid as I expected.  They gave me a free dental
checkup, replacing one of my molars with a cyanide capsule.  I had orders
to bite it if the shit hit the fan.  The suit assured me that Hans had a
similar implant.  Yoshi wouldn't be needing one.  Each of us was also
wired with a stim setup.  The suit wanted this stuff on file for later
review.  Probably to show his boss.

Things were quiet that night.  I pictured the eye of a hurricane in my
mind.  Quiet now, but all hell was going to break loose in a few
minutes.  The suit wanted quiet, with the option to be loud if
necessary.  I had a feeling it was going to be.  Corporations were always
lousy targets.  I would've felt better with an army with me, but then
again, I was used to these kinds of missions and these kinds of odds.
The guys with me weren't 'Blazers, but I knew Yoshi would be okay, and
Hans had that veteran look about him.  I'd considered asking him if he'd
been in the war, but he'd answered my question before I'd spoken it when
he put on his TDF Special Forces earring.  They weren't 'Blazers, but
then again, who was?  And we were going up against humans, not Scalps.  I
wasn't afraid of humans.  I was terrified of Scalps.

My head throbbed from the stimulants trickling into my body through the
biomonitor.  The suit had offered Lightning.  For a moment, just a
moment, I'd almost reached for it.  Almost given in.  That feeling, that
familiar feeling of impending invincibility had flooded my body like a
high.  To ride the Lightning was to become immortal.  Unstoppable.
Unfatigueable.  Unthinking.  Waves of power and confidence, almost
crackling visibly on my fingers, leaving the smell of ozone behind.  I
missed that rush.  Still do.  But I'd worked hard to survive it, and I was
planning on living a few more years, at least.  Yoshi had declined; Hans
hadn't.  Yep, he was a vet.  He looked good for an addict -- I would've
liked to see what he looked like five years up the line.  The Lightning
makes you powerful, but it steals your life, your soul, your pride.  I'd
only recently gotten mine back.  I liked that feeling more than the
Lightning's empty promises of greatness.  But I still missed it.

The driver stopped a few hundred meters away from the sprawling complex
and we disembarked.  My vision wavered a bit.  I bit my lip hard, tasting
blood.  We sprinted across the outer lawns, moving for the wall that
surrounded it.

"AI," I whispered, too quiet to hear it myself.  "I don't need these
fucking flashbacks right now.  Do something for once."

"I'm working on it, Jetta," it said, echoing through my head.  The APC
receded in the distance behind me as I moved effortlessly over the barren
landscape.  Tracers arced into the sky in the distance, tanks exploded as
invisible lasers struck them.  The view shifted into shades of gray, and
I saw the lasers as bright purple lines.  Odd...I hadn't shifted my
vision to UV detection...

"AI!" I said, audibly.  "Quit fucking around, this shit will get me killed."

"I said I'm working on it.  I had a hard enough time keeping you from
relapsing.  Your brain went into overdrive when he flashed the
Lightning," said the AI.  "Calm down and breathe deeply.  Help me out
here.  These stims are fucking with your neurochemistry."

"They're fucking with it?" I asked.  "Are you implying that it wasn't
fucked to start with?"

The wall loomed ahead.  The first moment of truth had arrived.  The suit
had told us that the motion sensors, contact sensors and screamers had
been deactivated on this section.  If they were, we were in.  If they
weren't, we were toast.  Time to find out.

Yoshi flew up the wall like an anole, doing a nice gymnastic flip and
landing in a crouch on the top.  He looked back and forth, glanced back
down at us, and gestured to follow.  We both nodded.  Neither of us had
that kind of climbing ability; we had ropes.  Crude, but effective.  We'd
decided beforehand to leave them in place.  Yes, they were a risk against
detection, but in a few minutes they'd know damn well where we were
anyway, and I didn't relish the thought of having to escape through a gate.

We descended into the darkened courtyard like ghosts, expertly avoiding
the pools of illumination cast down by the giant lights above.  At night,
there were always shadows, and there were people like me who stayed in
them.  And people like Yoshi, although whether he was a person or not was
a debatable point.

Yoshi clasped a fist in his left hand.  Everything looked good, time to
move out.  Good.  I was getting anxious.  I looked up at the building,
the rows of broken windows and bomb craters and bullet holes...

"I thought you were working on this," I hissed, moving off on my
predetermined route.  I lost sight of the others almost immediately.  It
was just me, the insane razorgirl, and the AI, my dead sister incarnate.
Not a situation where I'd tell someone, "Wish you were here."

"Breathe deeply.  Close your eyes.  Shake your head.  You're in the
BioWorks Newark facility, in Jersey.  Concentrate on that for a moment,"
said the AI.

I did.  I was back in Newark, the dreams of the war gone.  Or was I in
the war, dreaming of Newark?  There was too much overlap, too many holes,
things I couldn't account for.  I needed some damn Lightning to
straighten me out.  I should've said yes to the suit.  This wouldn't be
happening.

"Nova will kill you if you relapse.  Think on that while you're thinking
on Newark," said the AI.

I moved up to the door.  The second leap of faith I would take this
night.  Some of the lights were on inside; I could see two rentacops in
there, behind the armored glass and claymores.  The suit's plan had said
his people in the Matrix would have this taken care of.  I certainly
hoped so.  I was allergic to antipersonnel mines.  The guards still
didn't see me; I was too far out in the darkness, and my armor was
working, albeit a bit more slowly than I would've liked.  The changes in
color and apparent texture were casual and blurred.  It wouldn't be much
good in combat, other than the fact that the manufacture had claimed a
ballistic protection 400% better than standard ballistic fibers.  I'd
seen ThinThread at work before.  It was strong stuff.

I swung the recoiless rifle off my shoulder and readied it.  It was
nice...it reminded me of the war.  Light, compact, disposable, with a
two-shot magazine.  Thermographic scope, although I really didn't need
that.  I heard a resounding boom from the other side of the building.
Hans was going in.  The two guards swivelled their heads simultaneously,
one dropping a steaming piece of pizza onto his console.  I fell to me
knee and squeeze the trigger as his arm went for the alarm.

I was wired hard enough to watch the shell fly through the doors,
exploding in the lobby.  So much for armored glass, it broke apart just
fine.  Life switched to slow-motion, without the jerkiness of paused
frames.  This was the real thing.  One guard flew apart like a rag doll
hit by a shotgun.  The other, standing out in the open, sailed back in
something like a reversed swan dive.  I watched his flight, my perception
of time telling me it took at least ten seconds.  My time readout said
less than one had passed.

I ran forward, keeping low, hopping through the burning door frame.  No
alarms -- yet.  One of the claymores fired off a few seconds after I went
through.  Fucking Matrix cowboys.  Oh, well.  That was one mine that
would've be firing at me when I was retreating.

The lobby was in ruins, and stank of burned flesh.  A guard came in from
the restroom, ears bleeding from the concussion.  He looked too dazed to
do anything.  I saw his eyes begin to close in a blink.  I swung the
recoiless back onto my shoulder, brought the compact Ahzredi magrifle up
to bear, and squeezed off two three-round bursts.  He collapsed.  His
eyes were almost closed.  Damn, it was nice to be fast.

I took one last quick survey, just to make sure there were no more of
them hiding.  They had a nasty habit of doing that, leaping from cover
and disembowling you with their claws when you turned your attention
elsewhere.  I knew it all too well.  I hadn't been disembowled, but I'd
lost an eye and most of my blood.  My comlink crackled.

"Bravo Six, this is Saber Six.  Gimme a sitrep.  Over," it said.

"Bravo Six to Saber Six, we just took a hit.  Repeat, we just took a
hit.  I don't see anyone standing," I answered, through the
Lightning-genereated calmness.  I listened carefully.  There had to be
more of those bastards creeping around...reinforcements would've been
nice, but I knew I wouldn't be getting any.  Murphy's First Law of War:
you'll have five battalions covering your back until you need help.  I
had the Lightning, though...the Lightning...

"This is Newark.  I'm in Newark," I said.  The static on the comlink went
silent.  I felt its weight disappear from my shoulder.

I moved up the stairs, sure that I would've looked like Yoshi to a
bystander.  I was taking four steps with each leap.  A guard was on the
landing, looking very surprised.  I clenched my left fist.  My knuckles
tingled as the blades slid out.  I punched him in the throat.  Not good
enough, but it shut him up.  I hit him in the face.  They didn't go
through his skull, unfortunately, but they cut him good.  He'd die of the
bloodloss from his head before he suffocated.

Fourth floor.  Time to disembark.  I stepped through.  Gunfire in the
distance.  The drumroll pounding of an automatic shotgun.  Must be Hans.
I thought he was hiding something under that jacket of his.  A shotgun
would be just his style.  I had no idea where Yoshi was.  Probably
waiting for me at the room.

Three corpcops and a borg came around the corner, dressed in full riot
gear.  The guards were for real up here.  Damn.  One had a laser.  I
didn't like lasers.  I mowed him down.  The other two already had their
submachine guns drawn.  I leaped to the side, watching the bullets whiz
past me like angry bees.  I went through the door I hit, came up on me
feet, and ducked out from the jam, emptying the clip.  Damn thing didn't
have a smartfire linkup; it was hurting my accuracy.  The one on the left
screamed and spun away, falling.  He wasn't dead...I thought I got him in
the hip, maybe the groin.  I'd been aiming for the center of his chest.
I didn't try trick shots without smartfire.  Too damn hard hitting people
in the head.

"Lost the magrifle, dammit," said the AI.

"I'm working on it," I chuckled.  I holstered it behind my back and drew
my two pistols, the armor-piercing flechette-firing magpistol and the
sleek .25.  Two crosshairs, one red and one blue, flickered into
existance in front of me.  I stepped out, moving as the bullets began to
fly.  I could see them in the state I was in, but I wasn't fast enough to
really dodge them -- no one was.  However, I could tell where the next
ones would be, and I was faster than his trigger finger.  Two holes
appeared in his visor; his head exploded in a red blossom.

The borg stopped its forward momentum and stood solid as a tank, weighing
at least half a ton with the armor it had.  It reminded me of Cyprid,
only larger.  Although it carried a huge magrifle, I could see that it
had implanted weapons that it preferred to use.  It fired an SRM from a
launcher on its hip.  The microrocket was quite a bit slower than a
bullet, and I actually sidestepped the thing -- right into a second.
Shit.  The blast tossed me a good distance.  I didn't feel anything.  I
sat up and peppered the thing with flechettes as it levelled the rifle.
Its armor didn't offer as much resistance as it would've liked, but it
was built tough.  I had to put fifteen holes in the damn thing before it
went down.  More than enough time for it to put two holes in me.

A shadow flittered beside me.  Yoshi.  He glared down at me.

"Can you walk?" he said.

"I can fucking fly, chummer," I spat back.  He handed me a chip, then
disappeared.  He'd beat me to it.  I wasn't surprised.  I plugged the
chip into one of the dataports concealed above my hairline on my temple,
not accessing it.  I didn't want to know the details of what was on
there.  Besides, when they read it later, they'd be able to tell if it
was accessed or not.  I just wanted to keep it safe.

Okay.  Time to get up.  This was going to suck.  The armor had done an
admirable job of keeping me in one piece when the rocket hit, but the
blast had blown most of the plates apart, and the two magrifle slugs had
gone through with no trouble at all.  The pain began.  The AI started the
endorphin trickle.  I didn't feel pain unless I wanted to.  I took a
quick survey of myself.  Busted ribs, I could feel those, possible
punctured lung, definate internal bleeding -- I could TASTE that --
dozens of little fragment holes across my chest and torso, most likely
flattened against my subdermal plating, one neat hole just above my right
breast, another in my right thigh.  The thigh wound was a gusher.  I'd
have to move quickly.

"AI, how long is human muscle good for without fresh oxygen?" I asked.

"An hour, at least."

"Thanks."  I slid my belt off and cinched it just under my hip and
groin.  Might as well nip this one in the bud.  I didn't want to lose the
limb, not when I still had all my originals, but I didn't want to bleed
to death on the way out either.  Fucking Scalps.  They always seemed to
hit gushers whenever they got you, those damn claws were so sharp.

"Newark," I said.  No good.  A noncomm rushed up beside me, dirty and
speckled with blood.  He was shouting something about withdrawing.

"NEWARK," I said forcefully.  I bit down on my lip again.  Too hard, I
felt my teeth meet.  "Newark."

"Lieutenant!" cried the noncomm.  "Let's move!  Those bastards are
crawling all over the fucking place!  We've gotta get out of here!  I'll
help you.  Come on, dammit!"  He slid an arm under mine, helping me to my
feet.  I had trouble putting weight on my right leg.  It didn't hurt, it
was just weak.  I hated feeling weak.

"Newark," I said again.

"What about it?" asked the noncomm.  "Let's MOVE, Lt. Srin!  We've got
big fucking trouble coming!  Col. Takashi is back waiting for us!  Let's go!"

"FUCKING NEWARK," I shouted, slamming a fist down on my thigh.  No pain,
remember, Jetta?  I'll give it a C+ for effort, though.  Keep trying.

"AI.  Cut the fucking biomonitor," I said.  Artillery thundered outside.
I heard gunfire.  The noncomm grunted, spun, and fired a shotgun back
down the hall.  I saw a Scalp fly back against a wall, smearing it with
alien blood.  More swarmed to take its place.

We were back in the lobby.  Dead TDFers all over the place, slicking the
floor with their blood.  A 'Blazer was propped up against the wall, rifle
in hand, firing at our pursuers.  His legs were a bloody mess; I could
see multiple puncture wounds across his chest.  He was bleeding badly
from the side of his head in little spurts.

"Colonel Takashi!" said the noncomm.  "Shit!  Sir, we've got to get you
out of here!"

"You think I'm going anywhere?" he asked, firing again.

"I can walk," I said.  "Get him, he's the ranking officer.  I'll cover you."

"I...uhhh...shit..." the noncomm stuttered.

"MOVE IT!" I shouted.

"Yes ma'am!" he said stiffly, grabbing Takashi and throwing him over one
shoulder.  He hurried out the door.  I could see a large group of Scalps
in the hallway, taking their time, picking their shots well.  I
shouldered the recoiless, grinning.  They froze.  I fired, chucked the
tube, and stumbled out the door as quickly as possible, hitting the
ground when the shell exploded.  So much for them.  I'd be damned if a
bunch of fucking Scalps were gonna do me that easily.

"JETTA!  YOU'RE IN NEWARK!" screamed the AI, inside my head.  "SNAP OUT
OF IT!"

What about Newark?  WHAT AI?  An AI inside my head?  No fucking way it
could happen, they weren't THAT small yet.  I ignored it.  It didn't
speak to me again, whatever it was.  Probably some asshole having fun on
the comlink.  I keyed it up.

"Bravo Six to base...I'm on my way, give me a minute or so," I said into
it, coughing.  Blood spattered my jacket.  I couldn't run with the
tourniquet.  Fuck it.  I whipped it off.  I didn't remember putting it
on...maybe the noncomm had.  I hoped he was all right.  I moved across
the pitted rocks as fast as any Scalp could, even faster it seemed.  A
wall loomed ahead.  Shit.  I spotted a rope.  Had the noncomm left it?
I'd write him up for a promotion if I survived.  I jumped onto it,
pulling myself up.  Shots rang out.  I took another hit in my bad leg,
this one below the knee.  It was a flesh wound, nothing serious hit.  I
could still run on it.

I jumped off and hit the ground.  White hot agony spurted up my leg.  I
screamed and fell, the world spinning.  Damn, that'd hurt.  I hadn't hurt
like this since...since what?  Since I'd gotten opened up that one time,
that'd hurt as badly as this...

The corpcops hadn't made it through the gate yet.  I got up, tears
streaming down my face.  I couldn't think.  The pain was too much.  Bad
idea, Jetta.

Oddly enough, there were a few people on the street.  I kept my head low
as I knocked them out of the way.  They were in for a treat tonight.  A
corporate chase, in living color.  I came out onto Eisen Street.  The car
was there, idling.  Hans and Yoshi were in the back seat, the Ostlander
struggling with something out of sight.  I could see alot of blood on the
pavement.  They'd done the same as me.

I jumped through the window, screaming again when I hit the doorframe.
The car sped off with a chirp of the tires, the high performance
electric engine whining smoothly.  I righted myself, failing at stifling
another cry.

"You made it out," said Hans, almost relieved.  "I didn't think you
would.  You seemed...incoherent, Fraulein Srin."

"I AM fucking incoherent," I hissed, eyes squinched shut, squeezing more
tears out.  My head was swimming.  There was a feathery taste in my
mouth.  "I hope our mutual friend has some nice fucking health insurance
plan."

"Jetta," said Yoshi hoarsely.  I looked back.  Both his legs were missing
at the knee.  "Do you have the chip?  The chip I gave you?"

"Yeah...I got the fucking thing."  I pointed to the jack.

He nodded, smiling.  "Mine was in an ankle pocket.  Hans did not have a
copy.  Outstanding."  He leaned back, coughed once, and died.  Damn ninjas.

"Are you...okay, Fraulein Srin?" asked Hans, scowling at the corpse.  He
wiped his hands off on a clean part of the ninja's shirt.

"Fuck no, I'm not," I said.  "I need a drink.  I need to get laid more
often.  I need a fucking vacation.  Ahhhhh, SHIT!"  I stabbed three holes
in the roof with a blow from my left fist.

"You were talking to me like a soldier," he said.  DOH!

"AI," I said sweetly, almost enjoying the buzz the pain and shock was
giving me.  It was kinda nice, but a bitch to get.  Free, though.  Gotta
love that.

"Yes, Jetta?" it answered.

"GIVE ME THOSE FUCKING ENDORPHINS BEFORE I TEAR YOUR OUT OF MY FUCKING
SKULL AND MAKE A WATCH OUT OF YOU!" I screamed.  Another bad idea.
Vertigo swirled around me.  I vomited out the window, a good deal of
blood in it.

The endorphins embraced me warmly a moment later, kissing me lightly
until all the pain was gone.  I sank back into my seat, watching my blood
leaking out onto the floor.

"I hope your boss has auto insurance," I said to the driver.  He grunted.

Ahhh, some nights just never seemed to end.

"You were having flashbacks," said Hans, a great distance away.  "You
said your name...I did not know you were THE Jetta."

"The one and only," I said, smiling.  "The one and only."

"Quite a job," said the merc.  "I will tell my grandchildren about this one."

"Ja.  If I ever get that old," I said, "I think I will, too."




From Blitz <blitz@crow.cybercom.com>
Newsgroups: alt.cyberpunk.chatsubo
Subject: A Bit About Bioworks, pt 3
Date: Sun May 07 02:07:19 MET DST 1995
Organization: CyberComm Online Services

The job had been noiser than I'd have liked, but it was clean.  We left
no evidence, except for Hans's bullet casings and a string of corpses.
The driver assured us that the suit's cowboy friends had taken care of
the car's registration already.  I had him drop me off at a place I knew
only as the Clinic.

There was no shortage of docs who catered to samurai, but I liked the
Clinic the best.  It was clean.  It was well-stocked.  The doc who ran
it, Ratchet, was a friend of mine -- we'd served together with the
'Blazers.  In fact, he'd been on the team that'd put me back together
after the fight that had made me a legend in military circles.  He knew
my body inside and out, knew what I was allergic to, and most
importantly, didn't remove anything that didn't need removing.  I'd heard
stories of docs taking people apart and selling them off to hospitals,
and although I'd never actually met a victim, they seemed believable enough.

There was one operating room in the Clinic, about the size of a bedroom.
The only part I had memorized was the ceiling, for obvious reasons.  When
I went in, I was always hurting too badly to pay much attention to what
was going on.  When I left, I was doped up.

"How's the AI holding up?" asked Ratchet, working a pair of forceps like
an artist with a brush.  I wasn't under anesthetic.  The biomonitor unit
had hours of endorphins left, and I had three spare refill cartridges.  I
wouldn't be feeling this for days.  A good thing, too.  This was gonna
hurt like a motherfucker.

"It's not," I said, watching him work with detached interest.  "I almost
lost it before.  Was losing it, I think.  I still am."  I resisted the
urge to wiggle when he dug in to work on an artery.  My foot and shin
were bluish from oxygen deprivation.  I didn't even want to think about
how my brain was doing.

"That scan I ran on you, it said some funny things.  Your DNA has been
altered.  Any idea how that happened?"  He glanced at the feedback
display wired to my biomonitor.

"I've got some ideas," the AI whispered inside my head.

"Had some trouble with a vampire," I said.

He didn't like that.  "A vampire?"  He looked up.  "BioWorks variety, right?"

"Yeah."

"That would explain the scars on your neck.  I can sand those off for
you, if you're interested."

"Yeah.  Please.  Get this fucking thing patched first.  How much blood
did I lose?"

"Not enough for any permanent damage.  And speaking of which, have you
considered getting a new brain?"  he asked.  "That thing didn't look too
good either.  Got some scarring on the tissue around the implant, looks
like a lesion, too.  I can cut you a good deal on a used one, or else we
can clone one for you."

"What kind of memory loss on something like that?" I asked.  He clamped a
bot around my thigh; I could dimly feel it doing something inside the injury.

"Ahhhh, data loss on the download."  He chuckled.  "Well, not too
bad...maybe ten, twenty percent, tops."

"And what happens if that ten percent is something important?"

"I'll take that as a no.  You know, Jetta, we didn't have the technology
back then to actually fix all the things that were damaged.  That's what
the implant was for.  I can fix that, now.  People suffering from
injuries like yours are no longer given implants...it's outdated stuff."

"Can't exactly bolt on an upgrade, can you?" I said, narrowing my eyes.

"Hey, it's your brain.  Do what you want with it.  There's been some
regeneration of the damage the Lightning caused, but nerves don't grow
back too well.  Gotta replace them.  Take off your shirt."

I did.  My chest and stomach were an ugly shade of purple, smeared with
sticky, semi-congealed blood.  I could see little patches of dull gray
where fragments had penetrated to my subdermal plating.  Nasty stuff.

"Oh, great.  You really did it this time."  He shook his head, then
looked back at the monitor.  He aimed a device like a camera at me,
rechecking the display.  "Yep.  Just what I thought.  Couple of ribs
broken, your left lung is punctured, and your plating is all out of
alignment.  You step in front of a hovertank?"

"Worse.  Just fix the fucking things, will you?"

"I'm going to have to open you up for this," he said.  "Lay back.  You
know, sometimes I wish I'd been something else in life, like a programmer
or something.  No respect with this job.  And you know what?"

"What?" I asked.

"Then I see a pair of knockers like yours and it's all worth it," he
continued, chuckling.  "Umm, retract the claws, please.  Oh, speaking of
the claws, one of them is out of alignment too.  How long?"

"I hit something hard tonight.  Must've done it then."

"Well, it's going to have to be fixed tonight.  If it shifts anymore, you
might wind up spearing a knuckle or cutting something important.  I've
seen it happen before."  He picked up a laser scalpel from the nearby
work tray.  "Hold still.  You want me to knock you out for this?"

"Probably be a good idea.  You better not try anything while I'm out,
though.  Nothing I hate more than horny docs," I said, chuckling.
"Remember the claws.  Just cause they're out of alignment doesn't mean
they don't work.  I can always find out just how many more hits they're
good for before that one shifts..."

He slapped a patch on the inside of my arm, pressing it down firmly.  I
blacked out almost immediately.  Those docs used strong stuff.

When I woke up, I was still feeling good from the endorphins.  Hair-thin
laser scars crisscrossed my chest.  I wasn't worried.  Ratchet could sand
those off later, after they healed fully.  The bot was gone from my leg,
and I could see more scars there.

The recovery room looked almost exactly like the OR -- small, sterile,
and utterly devoid of ornamentation.  The cot was pretty damned
uncomfortable, too.  There was a simstim player resting on a shelf beside
me, with a few chips that couldn't have been made this decade.  I ignored
it.  A fun way to pass the time, but it played hell on the AI.

Besides, it made me think I was somewhere else.  I got enough of that as
it was.

Ratchet poked his head in, the bulky magnifying scopes still covering
most of his face.  I'd never seen him without them on.  "You awake?"

"No.  I fucking died and went to hell."

He laughed.  "Damn 'Blazers.  You got two people here to see you.  Are
you here?"

"Who are they?"

"Big guy in a leather jacket calling himself Hans.  Some girl named
Tierzha, looks real nervous.  You here?"

"How the fuck did Tierzha find me?  Yeah, I'm here.  Let them in."

Tierzha looked to be fairing worse than I was.  She ran in, cheeks
streaked with tears and eyes red and puffy, putting her hands on my head
and inadvertantly making something shift.  I hissed.

"Jetta!  Jetta!  I heard you got hurt and I got so scared...are you
okay?" she asked.

"I'm fine," I said.  "Please, get your hands off me.  Nothing personal,
but it hurts like hell."

"I know," she said sadly, backing up.  "I feel everything you feel."

Fucking empaths.  I hoped BioWorks wasn't making anymore of them.
"Hans.  I gotta talk to you.  Tierzha, could you step outside for five
minutes?"

"Jetta..."

"It's REAL important."  Tierzha nodded and stepped out, closing the heavy
plastic door behind her.  Hans absentmindedly locked it, then walked up
beside the cot.  He wasn't frowning.  I took that as a sign of him
feeling good.

"What's the situation?" I asked.

"Not bad.  Job was clean.  The suit deposited your money in four
different Swiss accounts.  You'll have to contact him for the numbers.
If he picked you for the same reasons he picked me, I'm sure he promised
some favors, too."  Hans smiled slightly.  I watched the lines on his
face.  He didn't do that often.  "He cleared mine up, if that's any
consolation."

"Outstanding.  What about the car?"

"After we dropped you off, we brought it out to the junkyard.  Seems
DefenseTech owns it as a front for these little 'missions'.  The driver
hosed the interior down with enzymes to break up the blood's DNA pattern
and melted it down."

"What about Yoshi?"

"Don't know, but there were a lot of canisters marked 'DANGER' sitting
around there.  These guys are thorough."  Hans stopped smiling.  "That's
what worries me.  They're very thorough.  The job was clean, but not
spotless.  Aside from the driver, there are at least two people who know
of everything that happened.  Watch your ass, just in case they decide to
clean that up, too."

"Will do.  Pleasure working with you."  I reached up and shook his hand.
I felt the textured patch of a smartgun link on his palm.  I'm sure he
felt mine.

"By the way," he said, tilting his head a bit.  "I was giving a lot of
thought to your little episode last night.  You got one of those implants
in your head?"

"Didn't you pay attention during the propaganda films?" I asked.  "I was
the first one they stuck an AI in.  They made a big fucking deal out of
it.  I'd love to hear what they have to say about patient follow-ups."

"Yeah, well, I've got one too," he said.  "Got it back in the Big One.
Scalp drilled me through the eye."  He pointed at his left eye.  "It
didn't come with a warranty, and when the thing broke down, I got a
little worried.  I know the guy who designed them.  Name's Kenji
Sukiaki.  He lives in Kyoto, over in Japan.  You might want to think
about paying him a visit."  He nodded his head, turned abrubtly on his
heels and began walking away.

"Hey Hans, I owe you one," I said.  He stopped.

"You remember a lance corporeal by the name of Weile?" he asked, without
turning.  "Bording action in the Belt, rearguard action."

"I've been in a lot of rearguards in the Belt.  What's different about
this one?"

"I remember it pretty well.  A Scalp came out of nowhere and socked me.
Down I go, couldn't hardly see.  All of a sudden, WHAM! someone PAWed the
Scalp, blew the hell out of it.  I saw a few shadows run past.  And then,
Lt. Jetta Srin trips over me, comes back, throws me over her shoulder,
and says, 'Hang the fuck on, cause if you fall, I'm not going back for
your worthless ass.'  Ring a bell?"  He turned a bit, and I could see him
smiling.

"I've said that quite a few times, Hans Weiler," I said.  "But I remember
the nameplate.  Weiler.  You were a skinny fuck back then."

"Low-grav cruiser I was on.  Here's my number."  He tossed a slip of
paper to me.  "Maybe we can work together again sometime.  Auf
Wiedersehen, Fraulein Srin."

"Auf Wiederschauen," I said, nodding.

The suit called me at my apartment two days later.  No one had called
since then.  He'd known when I would be leaving.  Fucking corporations.
Knew more about you than your parents did.  He gave me the numbers, said
that BioWorks would no longer be interested in their straying empath, and
that Astrid Muller had capitulated at DefenseTech's threat of withdrawing
their financial support.  I checked the accounts an hour later.  I had
over ten mil, minus one mil for the medical attention.  Not a bad score.

I gave the situation some thought and came up with a decision.  I put one
mil in some DefenseTech stocks.  Their value was going to be on the rise
in the near future.  I put another mil in my account -- emergency fund,
some new gear, maybe an implant or two.  I'd decide later.  I opened an
account in Tierzha's name, put most of the rest in, and left.  Jersey
City was nice, but there were too many memories there, too many enemies,
too many familiar faces...and it'd been losing its charm ever since I'd
arrived.  Time to move on.

I've heard Germany was nice this time of year, and there were still miles
of the Black Forest that hadn't been touched.  Hell, I already spoke the
language.  It was time for a little vacation.

A working vacation.