Chapter Sixty-Nine – Nice

Chapter Sixty-Nine – Nice

“Limits? Why would anyone bother with those?”

–Longbow, to the government of New New Mexico, 2054

***

I met Gomorrah on the roof of the hotel the next morning. She had her Fury parked right on the edge of the roof between two of those big vent things and what I suspected was a folded gun emplacement.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi,” she replied as she looked me up and down. “You look strange,” she said.

“Wow, thanks,” I said. “What’s that even mean?”

Gomorrah shrugged. “You’re holding yourself differently than usual. Less cocky. You look less self-assured, I suppose.”

“I’m wearing my armour, you can’t actually tell how I look,” I said. I gestured at her. “You’ve changed a little yourself. New gear?”

“All new, actually. It’s a similar design to my last, but up-armoured a little. Better environmental protections too. I have a catalogue for that kind of thing.”

“That’s neat,” I said. “I still have… honestly, a lot of points to spend. I should look into that.”

“They don’t help you.” I glanced at her, no idea what she meant by that. “The points. If they’re just sitting there, not doing anything, then they’re not helping you.”

“Oh,” I said. “Yeah. I know. It’s just hard to spend them, you know? What if I need something big soon?”

“What if you need it and you don’t have it? Infinite options are nice, but a concrete item
in hand is nicer. This is that whole bird-in-the-hand parable. I suppose there’s no harm in saving the points up for a while, as long as there’s a goal behind the saving.”

I shifted my shoulders uncomfortably. “Fine, fine, I’ll make a point to spend my points. Hah.”

Gomorrah chuckled, then jumped backwards onto an air duct. She started to swing her legs back and forth, a slow ‘thunk-thunk’ beating against the bare metal duct. We both looked up to the grey skies, then back down. At least it wasn’t raining yet.

“So, you and Frannie get it on yet?” I asked.

“Cat,” Gomorrah said. “Stop speculating about my love life.”

“Oh? You have a love life to speculate on, then?” I asked.

She glanced my way, then back down. “No, no I don’t.”

“Ah, that’s rough. Lucy’s plotting some double-date kind of thing.”

“Please don’t get Lucy of all people involved,” Gomorrah said.

“You don’t like Lucy?” I asked. That… genuinely hurt. Gomorrah was probably my best friend, even if we’d only known each other for a couple of days. They’d been long, eventful days.

“Oh, I like her fine. Better than I like you, certainly. She doesn’t explode things in close proximity to me. Or invite me to galas that end in shootouts.” I laughed, and Gomorrah chuckled. “No, I don’t want you to tell Lucy because she is entirely too convincing.”

“Oh!” I stood a bit straighter. “That means that with the right sort of convincing, we could get somewhere,” I said.

Gomorrah sighed and leaned back. “You’re, as the old nuns would say, a bit of a bitch.”

I snorted as I walked over, then sat down with my back against the duct she was using. “A bit, yeah,” I admitted. “Sometimes I try not to be, but then life happens, you know? Still, I’m a bitch with some great friends, so I can’t be doing everything wrong.”

“Oh, Christ,” Gomorrah gasped. “We’re friends, aren’t we? Where did I go wrong?”

“Oh, ha-ha,” I intoned.

We both twitched as a high-pitched keening came from above. Something fast was dropping through the clouds, a grey streak shooting right towards us. That was either our ride, or someone decided to take us out cruise-missile style.

The vehicle slowed down and came to a hover a few metres above before it dropped down at a more reasonable pace. It was a big sucker, maybe fifty metres long, with a sloped front and two long, curved nacelles on its side. It reminded me distinctly of the two big guns that Deus Ex tended to have hovering next to her.

The ship came to a gentle stop even with the edge of the roof, then with a hiss of releasing pressure, a door opened up on its side and slid back into the armour of the hull. The entrance was a good long step past the edge of the building, and no one seemed inclined to lower a gangplank for us.

“Whelp,” I said as I climbed to my feet. “That’s our ride, I’ll bet.”