She was polite, like a Corpo, but she barely sent out signals using body language, intonation or cultural referents that tended to change what a Corpo meant when he or she said something. For example, I would never casually threaten to put a bomb in Wakako's limo as a way of telling her "no hard feelings." I was afraid she would believe me.
I smiled, "I need some security. As ridiculous as this sounds, I have another meeting at Konpeki Plaza, and I thought it might be good to have a security team waiting for me outside."
She pursed her lips and looked at me weirdly, "I do hope it goes better than your last meeting there. Although, it did end up being quite profitable for the both of us, eh?" Then she slowly shook her head, looking more amused now, "But yes. I think I can assist. I will need to know who you are meeting and a little bit about what it is about so I can accurately underwrite the risk, price it and offer the gig to mercenaries which might be most appropriate."
I nodded. I did that as well when I acted as a liaison for people in Chinatown in LA. I mainly picked the gigs that I thought would be profitable and fit Kiwi's risk profile; the rest I handed off to mercenaries that I had become acquainted with that operated in the area.
I generally charged a small fee for the service. I mostly acted as an escrow. In almost all cases, people had to pay upfront for mercenary service; otherwise, trying to get clients to pay afterwards was almost impossible. I was trustworthy enough to both keep the money, correctly judge the success or failure of a gig and pay the mercenary if the gig was successful or return it to the buyer if it failed.
I frowned, having a sudden epiphany. Maybe I was a Fixer. A little one, though.
Tabling that thought for the moment, I said while smiling, "Well, my grandmother has invited me for-"
Wakako immediately interrupted me, "I'm afraid I won't be able to assist you."
Wait, what?! Then it became clear. This bitch knew who my Grams was and hadn't even told me?! The odd first meeting with the tea service came to mind, telling me she probably knew the whole time! I narrowed my eyes but then realised it was kind of ridiculous to expect someone not to know who their own grandmother was. Also, I wouldn't have gotten involved in the family drama of that level, either.
This did add strong corroborating evidence that Gram did not send that ninja butler to alter Alt-Mom's marriage certificate while I was asleep, although I had already felt that was a very out-there prospect, to begin with.
We just stared at each other silently for a moment before I finally sighed, "Alright, fine."
Wakako smiled and asked, " Besides that, is there anything I can help you out with?"
I opened my mouth, paused and then closed it. I was about to decline, but something caused me to stop. I did need to buy something from Arasaka, and they were no longer willing to insure my shipments into LA, and even if I could get what I wanted there, it would be another adventure getting it to Night City through the NUSA blockade. Night City was trying to remain neutral in the conflict, which just meant that it pissed both sides off, kind of like Texas.
Finally, I nodded, "I need at least one more of the same model Arasaka brand thermoptic implant you sold me last time, but if you can get three, I'd buy all three."
I should have bought more when I had the chance from my Arasaka rep back when I ordered the robots. Both Dr Hasumi and Taylor had one unit installed, but I would need at least one more. The rest, I would stock, and it wasn't like I couldn't find buyers for them in this market.
Stealth systems were technically an illegal, or at least restricted, implant in most jurisdictions, including Night City and the NUSA, but it was one of those laws that were selectively enforced. A hallmark of tyranny was that the legal system was so Byzantine that any random person was basically an unindicted felon, with only prosecutorial discretion keeping anyone out of gaol. As Beria said, "Show me the man (or woman in my case), and I will show you the crime." It kind of grated my sense of justice that I was getting the benefit of this selective enforcement, but not enough not to take advantage of it.
She raised her eyebrows and hummed, "I can get one for sure. Maybe two, but I'll require payment upfront if you don't mind." I didn't at all. Taylor Hebert's accounts were flush, as were Dr Hasumi's. I had more contacts that were able to "tumble" electronic currency transfers, or rather obfuscate transfers between two parties, and they charged less than Wakako did. In fact, such a thing was one of the services I provided mercs in LA, too. It helped to have a big bankroll, as that made it a lot easier to move money around until even an AI couldn't determine who got what.
I paid her and departed, a little disappointed. Military backup had only been a plan B for me in the first place. And even then, it was just something to make me feel better from a psychological perspective; I didn't think it would actually provide any protection beyond that.
As I stepped out of the pachinko parlour, I briefly caught a glimpse of a camouflaged drone flying silently overhead a couple of hundred metres in the air. The stealth system of the drone flickered briefly as it occluded a darker cloud before refactoring and vanishing again in less than two hundred milliseconds, my eyes quickly and automatically shifting through all vision modes to try to recapture the vanishing shape in an automated "notice stealth, defeat stealth" program I had made.
I barely got a glimpse of the flyer, but it still had me almost ducking for cover just in case it had a precision munition attached. It was clearly a military model. My observation drones had simple camouflage made of SmartPaint on their undersides but mainly relied on being small. This was both large and also featured an active stealth system.
However, nothing happened, and I wasn't blown up. I ran a continuous scroll of my life onto a BD, but only a rolling twenty-four-hour period. It was useful in times like this, though. I rewound and paused the frame when the drone was visible and used several image post-processing techniques to create an outline of its shape, then punted that to my Agent to identify.
The result came back quickly. Over ninety per cent confidence that it was a British BAE Demon Eye observation platform. I grinned widely. So they had won the contract, eh? I hadn't heard, but I didn't really care. It was probably publicised as a press release, though. Good job, Mr Stewart!
I hummed the melody to Land of Hope and Glory as I walked to my car.
As Taylor left, Wakako let out a breath in what was half an exhale and half a hiss. What had that girl been thinking, asking her that? It did seem that this was the real girl, though. At first, she was confused when she noticed that Dr Hasumi was still active back in Los Angeles, but it was clearly within Hebert's ability to make anyone indistinguishable from her, after all she did it for herself.
She must have hired a relatively skilled surgeon, perhaps one that got in a lot of trouble somewhere, to continue to be Dr Hasumi while Taylor came back to Night City. Probably for a share of her profits? But how was Taylor controlling this double? Well, Kiwi was still in LA, so it wasn't hard to guess that if Dr Hasumi tried to take things over that she would disappear, with everyone being told she was "on vacation." Then, another more pliable Dr Hasumi would return.
With as much money as she thought Dr Hasumi was making, Wakako was frankly astonished that Taylor Hebert wanted her old identity back. But this... it was a good scam and a great way to have her cake and eat it too.
Wakako didn't ask when this invitation was for. She didn't dare. However, just the fact that such a personage was coming to Night City, even if it was only briefly, was precious information. She wouldn't be so uncouth as to sell it directly, but she could definitely profit from it.
Taylor's "grandmother" wasn't on the same level as, say, Saburo Arasaka or Rosalind Myers. Wakako thought it was mainly because her family had already accepted the fact that they would not, in fact, rule the whole Solar system, so instead, they just carved out sections of it. It was a very European philosophy, Wakako thought.
The portfolios of such families were, of course, confidential, but it wouldn't surprise Wakako if they owned significant amounts of shares in both Arasaka and Militech, just in case.
It was time to "wake up" the new clone, which was floating in my personal vat in the laboratory in LA. It looked virtually identical to the woman who had floated there herself a week ago.
That lady had been delighted with her new, "cute" body, and I had used a shipment of new implants to sneak her out of the building. She was starting a new life... somewhere. Perhaps staying here in LA, to me it didn't matter.
All of my implants had been identical between Hasumi and Taylor Hebert, and that was very wise with the first pair, but I was diverging from this rule this time. Slightly, anyway. I would absolutely have to have the same cyberbrain and operating system for now and definitely the same or at least equivalent Kerenzikovs, but I thought the rest I could change. It might take a little bit to get used to, but it would be fine. Kiroshis would stay the same, including my modifications to them, because they were just too useful.
I did include the stealth system on this new body as well because it was so universally useful, and it was very tolerated, even if it was restricted. But I could not take integrated weapons systems where I was going, not at all, so the monowire had to go.
What replaced it was a very high-end military set of full-arm prostheses by MoorE Technologies. They were in the "Strong Arm" or "Gorilla Arm" class of cybernetics, and while they were in some ways as dangerous as a monowire, they were tolerated everywhere because they were also used by labourers.
This body wouldn't have a cyberdeck at all, but I would be able to act as though it had one through my connection to my other bodies and other computers, and it had a full-body set of high-end subdermal armour system.
I frowned at the almost Amazon body. Although Hasumi was curvier and a little shorter, she had a similar body type to my original, so it wasn't too difficult to get used to. Hopefully, this new body wouldn't cause any dysmorphia, especially with its more radical cyber limbs and armour instead of the more subdued muscle lace and ballistic skin weave. However, I was trying to fit in, and she had dermal armour, not ballistic skin weave. Well, it also had muscle and bone lace for the organic legs, too.
Plus, this was exactly what a body that used to be a US Navy SEAL would look like, I thought. I couldn't exactly try to change it too much when I was trying to look like someone who had been a real person. Questions would be asked already, and I didn't want to diverge from what was expected too much.
Well, there was no use continuing to wait around. I triggered the integration, and both my bodies sat down and began meditating while a countdown timer flashed in my HUD.
Suddenly, again, I was more. It was hard to describe the feeling, but I really liked it. It wasn't like taking a drug because that just muddled your mind, whether it was a depressant or stimulant. It was the opposite of that, although I thought it might be just as addictive, so I tabled any plans for expanding to four any time soon. Besides, I had some special plans for number four that would take quite a while to implement.
I helped myself out of the tank and got dressed. I had to hustle now. I only had a couple of hours to get to the Los Angeles International Airport for the OrbitalAir spaceplane flight to the Crystal Palace. A brief layover, followed by a much, much longer ride on a freighter to the Galileo Cylinder, one of the O'Neill Colonies. It would take close to two days to boost out to the Lagrange point where the space stations were situated at.
If you had enough money and technical skills, and most importantly, no further entanglements or loyalties to the planet Earth, then you could immigrate, although I was sure I would be scrutinised severely due to "my" past military experience. I wouldn't be going there as a Doctor, no way. Too suspicious. The Amazon had no medical experience at all. But they needed a lot of electricians and other zero-gravity workers.
The Amazon didn't have any experience in microgravity, but that could be taught. She had been a specialist in Interior Communications in the Navy before becoming a special warfare operator, but it meant she had both skills, and those would be the ones I would be leveraging. Submarines were half-spaceship, anyway, so my CV and immigration request had been tentatively approved by the Republic of O'Neill cylinders.
I had already been devouring training manuals for both low and high-voltage electrician work, including training materials for precisely her former job in Interior Communications. It was basically the Navy's version of a networking tech, which I already had a little experience with creating the networks for several buildings.
I frowned as I got into the cab with my duffle. I hope this didn't count as stolen valour. It was merely identity theft, and I had permission, even!
At the same time, Taylor Hebert logged into the site to RSVP that she would, indeed, be available for tea on the fifth.
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Nuka-Girl
I looked at the pug dog who sat there panting and staring around at everything. She was theoretically my new pet, but the thing had been acting odd since it arrived weeks ago. Shortly before my Taylor body left Los Angeles, this thing had walked into my door with Mrs Pegpig riding on its back like it was a horse. The bird would use one wing to point a direction, and the dog walked that way dutifully. They had been trying to make it up the stairs before my security had stopped them, but they were already well aware of my pet pigeon, so they didn't know what to do and called me.
Seeing my pigeon ride around on a small, tan pug was pretty weird. Just seeing a pug was pretty weird. Los Angeles didn't have the best atmospheric conditions, possibly even worse than Night City, and pugs had trouble breathing even in the best of times. There were no roving grumbles of pugs in LA, as far as I could tell. But this dog didn't have any embedded implant suggesting it was someone's pet, either. Checking my surveillance feed had the dog coming up from the south with Mrs Pegpig flying along with her.
I had tried to find its owner but had no luck. It was a mystery. Was Mrs Pegpig trying to find the Hasumi body a replacement pet? The bird departed with my Taylor body back to Night City, after all. I knew I frequently thought about how Mrs Pegpig was more intelligent than the average bird, but that was going beyond just being smart for a bird.
