Chong: Yes. They know, but not about our involvement.
Whatever he was up to, the haan weren’t in on it. They didn’t know, and Gohan didn’t want them knowing. Could his love of the haan all be an act? Could he have been getting close to them for some reason, just to strike when the opportunity presented itself? It didn’t seem possible. If he planned to turn on them, he’d put up one hell of an act for an awful long time.
I squeezed my eyes shut. Think…. What sort of device could he mean?
If he wanted the haan cut off from the power grid, then Gohan wanted to expose them too. According to Chong’s messages, he wanted this to happen without his involvement being known—not by Hangfei security, but especially not by the haan. What was he playing at?
“I’m sorry about your friend,” Nix said. I glanced over at him.
“I didn’t really know him,” I said. “But… yeah, me too.”
My brain still struggled to wrap around the fact that Chong was not only probably dead but that he’d been working with Gohan this whole time. I remembered how he’d flirted with me down in the tunnel, and how, in a way, I’d kind of liked it.
“I just don’t get what the hell Gohan stands to gain by helping us.”
I brought up Nix’s contact on the 3i and pinged him.
Nix, what will the haan do when they’re exposed, and if the force field goes down? How far would they go?
The haan would not think along those lines, as in, if you try and destroy us we will in turn destroy you. Destroying us would be relatively easy. We don’t have the capacity to destroy you all.
Hangfei, maybe?
All of our colonies are located in Hangfei and would be destroyed as well. Since they would be the only islands left of our species if Shiliuyuán were destroyed, I don’t think they would do that.
Then what?
He considered that for a moment, before venting air with a low rattle.
Individuals like Sillith will resort to strategic, direct violence to achieve an end, but taken as a whole our way is to find more sustainable solutions. Sillith’s virus, the force field dome, and fostering a culture of dependency in your species. I don’t have any direct information, but I think it’s safe to assume my people’s contingency will fall more along these lines.
The defense shield, maybe?
They will most likely use it to defend Shiliuyuán should it come under attack, but as powerful as it is it would eventually fall.
“What, then?” I hissed.
Between Nix’s back and the guys crowded behind him, I could see through a sliver of window as a dingy housing project swept by. Rows and rows of rust-colored walls flashed past, with little boxlike windows crowded around shallow balconies where laundry flapped like damp flags. The squiggles of graffiti eventually gave way to a lookout over Shin Park, streams of air traffic whizzing past in front of the skyline behind it. Then shadow, and flitting lights as we dove into the tunnel.
The train slowed and we all leaned into each other, holding on to the bar as it stopped with a hiss, and the doors slid open.
“Come on,” I said.
“Are you reconsidering your position?” Nix asked. “To stop what you’ve started?”
“I’m still thinking about it.”
A vendor fair in the Guanghuan Mall tube stop had the platform packed with carts selling everything from 3i plug-ins to sneakers. We followed the line of people off the train car and into the mob, edging between the queues where money and merchandise changed hands in a flurry. One guy sat with his shirt off next to a makeshift ink parlor while a bald woman with the bridge of her nose pierced worked on his back with a buzzing needle. At least half the merchandise looked like bootleg stuff but none of the station guards looked like they cared. Some of them were shopping, too.
I followed the crowd through the big glass doors and caught a nice rush of canned air as I passed under a blower. Nix stepped through and joined me on the first of four parallel walkways that whisked us down the yellow line toward the mall’s club section.
When we reached the transfer, we hopped off the track and headed down the wide corridor out into the club plaza where a domed glass ceiling looked up toward the towering tips of skyscrapers.
I didn’t go to the Guanghuan Plaza often, and I didn’t think Vamp did either. He’d never even mentioned the Phage Panic Club, and while I’d heard of it, I’d never been there. The plaza always seemed a little high pitch for me, when I preferred a place you could zone out. Even the outside of the club was full of spastic activity, where a huge mob lingered waiting to get in. The queue formed a rave of its own, dancing to music being piped through to the outside, and ordering drinks and smokes from women on roller skates wearing shiny short shorts. Above them, a huge sign in blazing block hanzi announced the name of the club while hanging over the masses like some kind of mega-awning.
“…use the defense shield to wipe out the fucking Americans,” I heard someone say as I passed. There were some nods.
“I know what I saw,” another man said.
“You were tripping.”
“Fuck you, I’m telling you I know what I saw….”
As I made my way through, I signaled one of the roller-girls and she glided over. She made a neat little spin in front of me, stopping on a dime without disrupting the wares in the wooden box she held in one hand. Inside the box were compartments tightly packed with various smoke offerings. I picked out a squat black-papered little drug-free smoke, thick but no longer than my thumb. She cocked one hip at me, presenting the cash card reader she had clipped there, but I paid her in cash, figuring it would be safer. She smiled and offered me a light.
I puffed the smoke alight, catching a mouthful of heavy, sweet smoke that tasted like chocolate and peppermint but no bitter chem aftertaste. She snapped the lighter shut, and floated backward into the crowd as I continued on in.
Yo, Vamp, I’m here.
Great, give the booth ID to the hostess, and she’ll let you in.
Inside I got stopped by the bouncers, but when I flashed the booth ID and the hostess looked up the reservation they parted to let me and Nix through, just like Vamp said.
Everyone inside looked like they were loaded, and not just with booze. Everywhere I looked I saw expensive clothes, fancy haircuts, and plastic surgery. I followed the signs along a catwalk that looked down over a huge dance floor that had become a carpet of bobbing heads and pumping fists, jerking crazily in time with the heavy techno throbbing. I headed down to a row of sliding doors, each covered in elaborate woven designs and found Vamp’s boot at the end behind the twisted face of a jiangshi. I tapped the booth access card to the electronic contact mounted on the side of the door’s track.
The door slid open, and I slipped through the crack into the large booth, which was dominated by a rectangular sunken table. When I closed the panel behind me the sound screen kicked in and the racket outside became a faint rumble of white noise. The booth became a pocket of calm quiet, and smelled like a pleasant mix of sweet alcohol and scented smoke.
Vamp leaned back in the booth with a tall, empty glass in front of him. He stared at the tabletop in a way that made me think he was zoning on his 3i. He wasn’t alone. I recognized the woman with him from her Channel X profile that I’d dug up from the wire. She was Shuang Po. Vamp’s ex. She had half her head shaved with a braided wet drive lanyard dangling from behind each ear. Spray-on black jeans and a skintight green top showed off a killer body, and she had a lot of tattoos and piercings.
Vamp glanced up and when he saw me he scrunched his brow. Then he saw Nix and his eyes went wide for a second as we approached. He waved with his free hand for us to come over and sit down. He caught me staring at Shuang, and took my wrist to guide me into the booth.