Crashland by Sean Williams Page A

why would Q?
    â€œD-mat will start working again soon, you’ll see,” Clair said, because it had to be true. “Everything will be fine.”
    â€œWhy should I listen to you? I don’t know who you are anymore, Clair.”
    Clair’s eyes filled with unwanted tears.
    â€œI’m doing my best,” she said, even though all she seemed to be doing at the moment was struggling to stay alive.
    Right on cue Sargent said, “Movement.” Clair came out of her lens interfaces to join the others at the window. There didn’t seem to be anything else she could do.

[13]
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    â€œWHAT?” JESSE ASKED, looking around as though coming out of a daze. “Where?”
    Sargent pointed down West Thirty-Third Street. A metal canister skittered along the road and exploded in a puff of thick brown smoke. Through the smoke Clair could make out indistinct figures in flickering urban-camouflage suits, moving fast from cover to cover, but she couldn’t see their faces or tell exactly how many of them there were.
    â€œDupes?” Clair asked, wiping her eyes.
    â€œOne assumes so,” said Devin, keeping well back from the glass, even though it was undoubtedly bulletproof. Wallace had spared no expense in his inner sanctum.
    â€œDefinitely dupes,” said Jesse, still looking slightly dumbfounded. “I got a message, too.”
    â€œShare it with us,” said Forest.
    â€œNo,” he said with a quick shake of his head. “Just Clair.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” she asked him. “Show me.”
    Jesse didn’t look at her as his fingertips danced against his leg, tapping out commands via his ancient augs. A moment later, a new window opened in Clair’s lenses. It contained a video.
    â€œWhat you see in the street below is one of two things,” said Dylan Linwood’s dupe in the video, his left eye filled with bright-red blood from the original pattern. He was shown against a yellow desert backdrop that could have been anywhere. “An escort or a death squad, depending on how long it takes for you to hand her over.”
    The image cut to another recording, this one taken in low light. Clair recognized Zep’s room on the Isle of Shanghai. The camera was pointing at the bed. Audio hadn’t been included. The images conveyed everything.
    Clair closed the window as quickly as she could and deleted the message from her infield.
    â€œThat wasn’t me,” she said to Jesse, cheeks burning. “I never . . . Honestly, we never. . . . I swear.”
    He nodded, but still didn’t look at her. “It’s dupes. I figured. They’re just messing with me now, so I’ve deleted it.” To the others he said, “They want us to hand over Clair or they’re going to kill us all.”
    â€œWe’re not doing that,” said Devin.
    â€œOf course we’re not,” said Sargent. “But at least they’re talking to us before they bring the building down around our ears.”
    â€œWe should get out of here,” said Clair, feeling a flicker of panic. The dupes just wouldn’t let up.
    â€œWait,” said Forest. “Reinforcements.”
    He indicated the window. A squad of peacekeepers was deploying at the base of the building. As a pair of canisters rolled across the plaza, gunfire broke out between the two parties, faintly audible from the ground below.
    Clair hoped the PKs showed no mercy. How long until that video of her and Zep turned up on Clairwatch for the entire world to see?
    â€œThat’s all well and good,” said Devin, “but the dupes are theoretically unlimited in number, while you guys are not.”
    â€œMore are on their way from New York HQ,” said Forest.
    â€œThe fact remains. Unless you start duping your officers—”
    â€œThat is illegal,” said Forest with an irritated frown.
    â€œYou could change the law—”
    â€œIf