A big 'Thank you' to bikoukumori, who has again done a wonderful job editing out my mistakes, leaving only awesomeness behind.
Sorry for delivering another chapter light on sex. There were so many little things left to wrap up in the behemoth that was #5, I couldn't let them dangle for too long. The hot sex returns in the next chapter, promise.
Oh yeah, I almost forgot. There's only adults in here, and no artificial intelligences were harmed.
#6: Out of the bag
I gingerly removed the plug from my eye jack and exhaled slowly. Damn, that was much too close for comfort. Returning to my own body, I keenly felt the damage the Ceiss security jockey had done to me. My head hurt as if a terrorcore band was using it as their rehearsal room, every heartbeat sending sharp pangs of pain through my skull, my mouth was dry and I was shaking like a leaf. Gingerly I rose off the couch, noting that I was still dripping wet. Did I pee myself while my brain was out of town? I slipped a hand between my thighs and sniffed at my fingers. No, that clearly was the smell of arousal, not urine. Thank God, that would have been a pain to clean up.
Another vicious stab shot through my brain. Staggering, I nearly tripped over the cables linking the combat deck to the power and 'Net lines. I caught the rear of the sofa then wobbled, carefully, over to the bathroom and yanked open the small cabinet that held my stash of meds, well stocked courtesy of Fleischer. I popped two Ibuprofen and made my way into the small bedroom. Flopping down onto the bed, I waited for the painkillers to do their thing.
Eventually, the pain receded and I could think somewhat clearly again. I knew I should've called Fleischer, let him check me up, but I wasn't itching to answer all those annoying questions which would come up, like what I was doing with a fully-loaded combat rig or how I got my brain fried in the first place. No, that was a can of worms I wasn't quite ready to open yet.
No matter how I spun it, everything led back to this Cat person. Without her, I wouldn't be alive. The ease with which she overwhelmed the Ceiss jockey was awe-inspiring and there were so many things I wanted to ask her. I didn't even mind the idea of having virtual sex with her too much. After my brush with the rape chip, everything was better than that. I keenly remembered how soothing her touch felt on my chromed flesh and that every time she touched me, some little hurt vanished. I couldn't remember the last time someone actually hugged me, let alone was gentle to me without paying for it. Fleischer didn't count, he was more like a father to me than anything plus he was adamant in refusing any offer of sex with me.
From out of nowhere, the yawn hit me and I realized how deathly tired I was. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I felt my body turn to a leaden, clumsy mess. Cursing and shivering, I sat up and pulled my clothes off me and crawled under the covers. There was no rush to find out what happened to my parents. There... was... no...
***
I woke around noon. Checking my tiny alarm clock, I nearly fainted. I had been out cold for two days! My stomach was growling and I felt sticky all over, the thick covers much too warm for my liking. Also, I badly needed to shave, my head was already sprouting a noticeable fuzz of brown. So I decided to treat myself to an extended shower before hitting the closest supermarket. The act of making myself presentable felt really good, banishing the last vestiges of unease. When I was done, all bald up top and down below, I felt really good and the sunshine pooling in through the windows of my flat, yes
my
flat, only added to that. I pulled on one of my favourite panties, dark purple, hopped into a pair of faded jeans, threw a simple black tee over my body, not bothering with a bra and grabbed my silver baseball jacket. Time to tear up the town!
Two hours later I was back with five plastic bags full of supplies, everything I thought I would need for the forseeable future. Food for two weeks, soft drinks, coffee, toiletries and a few other things which might come in handy. I treated myself to a nice meal, ready-made lasagna, and pondered my options. The headaches had disappeared completely and, with a belly full of noodles and sauce, life looked splendid indeed.
My gaze drifted to the combat deck still laying where I'd left it two days ago. There were answers to be had and I really had no reason to dawdle anymore.
***
I found the book where I left it, on a massive marble book stand in the cathedral's pulpit, Cat's business card directly next to it, meowing softly.
Gingerly, I flipped open the heavy covers and began to read, finally unravelling the mystery of my past.
My parents' death was what the detectives in the StimChips called "a chain of unfortunate circumstances." Fuck all of them.
My father had been working on a prototype for a new lens system, so tiny it could be used on a molecular level. In itself, it would have many useful applications already, especially for internal medicine or cybertech. Imagine it - miniscule robots able to swim in the bloodstream, with all the tools to surgically remove tumours or unclot blood vessels. Or used as the basis for practical optical computing. The major hindrance in building optical computers has always been the size of the lenses neccessary to focus and direct the light and the stuff my father worked on offered a stepping stone in this direction.
The documents showed ample proof that several companies wooed him, most notably Mindlink, the inventors of the mind/machine interface that has quietly become the standard. There were dozens of pictures showing my father talking to a guy called Richard Squier. Sitting in a conference together or golfing or drinking. Internal Affairs believed Squier was the one who made my father an offer he couldn't resist.
So, eventually, he nabbed Mom and me from Ceiss Tower, we had a nice night out, at the end of which we would have used a Mindlink private jet to flee to America. Too bad Ceiss knew how valuable my father's research would be and kept him under close surveillance. The extraction team picked us up, the security persued, there was the shootout on the autobahn near the airport and the ensuing crash of the limo my parents and I were in.
When the car stopped rolling over, I was alive but unconscious. The surveillance cameras mounted next to the autobahn showed my parents trying their best to drag me from the overturned vehicle before another bullet hit the gas tank and the car exploded. The flash fire took half my face with it and the shrapnel heavily wounded my parents. Instead of calling an ambulance though and having corporate jurisdiction deal with them, the people from SecTeam 6 decided to opt for a "cleaner" solution. They shot my parents on account of them being "as good as dead anyways." Initially, they tried to mask it as an accident but half a year later, while I was still recovering from my eye operation, the truth came to light. SecTeam 6 was disbanded and Internal Affairs faced a serious problem.
My parents were traitors to the corporation but I was not. Ceiss were legally bound to care for me, especially since I was still a minor. Only problem was, as soon as I would turn eighteen, they would have been bound to show me every document related to my parents' death, thereby admitting that they knew about their murder at the hand of SecTeam 6, which would have cost them millions in damages if I ever went to court. And believe me, I would have dragged them up to the European Court of Justice had I known then what I knew now. So instead they chose to throw me out, on charges of collaboration with known traitors, hoping that the urban jungle would make short work of tender young Katarina Fuchs.
***
Cat looked at me, genuine warmth and sympathy in her eyes. Today, she was wearing bits and pieces of a school uniform and appeared as a playful catgirl, complete with tail, ears and whiskers.
"What are you planning to do with this knowledge, meow," she asked, cuddling against me, her fingers playing with the tip of my plait.
Finding her was as easy as picking up the business card and reading it. I was a bit spooked when my avatar moved of its own accord but I figured there was no reason to distrust her. If Cat wanted me dead, she could have easily left me at DarkSith01's mercy. Now we were sitting in a remarkable imitation of a living room, the huge glass panels opposite the sofa showing a dazzling view of the surrounding 'Net architecture.
"I'm angry, Cat. No, scratch that. I'm fucking furious. If I could, I would wipe Ceiss off the map for what they did. Not only to me, but to my parents as well," I snarled, slapping my thigh in frustration, the chrome ringing loudly. "But you know how my last attempt ended."
"Don't be too hard on yourself, Shinygirl," Cat purred, her hand caressing my neck. "You have almost no experience in cyber combat, yet you handled yourself admirably. Granted, you made mistakes, but-"
I cut her off with an angry swipe of my hand.
"You know, I could've
