Glitch in the God Complex (AmpCore #1)

37 - Jobsworth

When she woke up, she was still alive.

Now there's a pleasant surprise, Delgado thought. And even more pleasantly, she didn't appear to be in a corporate holding cell.

Blinking, she waited a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light of the room. In that time the dull throb of pain in her leg, shoulder and side swelled, and she belatedly remembered she'd been shot a whole bunch of times.

With her unhurt arm, she reached gingerly to touch the wounds, and found fresh dressings over each of them. Her mind sluggishly tried to catch up to reality. Someone had gotten her off that hauler, and patched up her bullet holes. She screwed her eyes shut, counting her breaths and digging through her memories.

The last thing she remembered was flipping off that AmpCore agent.

Delgado allowed herself a chuckle and immediately regretted it, as the movement sent jolts of pain through her shoulder and leg. Clenching her jaw, she opened her eyes again and looked around.

An apartment. She was in an apartment. Nothing fancy, and not one that she recognised. A single room combined into kitchen and living area, and a small corridor leading off to the rest of the dwelling. She tried to site up.

Another bolt of pain made her give up the attempt. Strangling down a growl of agony, she eased back against the cushions. She was on a couch – at least it felt like one – with lumpy cushions, low to the floor. A screen on the far wall burbled with a news report and Delgado tried to focus on.

Blinking a few more times, she managed to read the headline.

Eight dead in dock shoot-out – Dock Gangs Terrorise Local Population.

An earnest-looking reporter (undercut somewhat by the Ness-Net serpent logo emblazoned on his slick black jacket) was describing the scene, gesturing over his shoulder to where corporate medical teams could be seen tending to injured people. Beyond them, she recognised the silhouette of the loading yard cranes.

"Shit," she wheezed.

"Yeah, left a real bloody mess behind, didn't you, mate?" chuckled a familiar voice.

Delgado turned her head as fast as she dared, and her eyes went wide when she saw Doser's steamroller of a frame come ambling into the room. He had a cigarette in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other, and the bags under his eyes made it clear he hadn't slept in a while.

"Doser?" she breathed, unable to think of anything constructive to say.

"Still recognise me, eh? I guess that's something." He gave a fatalistic shake of the head before sitting down across from her in a battered old armchair, riddled with black burn marks and unidentifiable stains. "How do you feel?"

"I got shot. A lot. How would you feel?"

"Pretty fuckin' lucky to be alive."

She rolled her eyes. "Fair enough. And I'm guessing I've got you to thank for that?"

Doser shrugged and took a deep drag from his cigarette. "Suppose so."

"What happened?"

"Well, I hadn't heard from you in a little, not since you went after that codewraith," he said between puffs of smoke. "Captain was gettin' a little agitated about your whereabouts. Thought I'd better try get you up for some air before he decided to slap a suspension on your arse." Doser paused, his jowly features creasing with unease. "I dunno what the fuck it is you're into, Delgado, but something round here stinks to high heaven."

"Don't tell me somebody finally painted over that cynical streak of yours," she said wryly.

"Yeah, mark the bloody calendar, eh?" He managed a weak chuckle. "Anyway, everything with the wraiths, with Jennings and his stupid brat kid, all of it got slammed up tight. Big official legal sledgehammer came down right top of the whole fuckin' force. Some arsehole from AmpCore came around waving his bloody wand and that's it – case closed, do not pass go, do not collect a crypt on your way out the door. It's all bullshit, Chloe."