Read Online Digital Divide (Rachel Peng) by K.B. Spangler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: K.B. Spangler
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came at her slowly, three wide, and stopped just out of arm’s length. Rachel cut to the side to walk around them. The crowd parted for her but the men moved to block her path to the exit a second time. Edwards’ militia couldn’t decide what to do. They knew what they wanted to do (turbulent red, with thick streaks of black), but they couldn’t find a reason.
Rachel was not about to give it to them. She stopped and stood at parade rest. She kept her voice flat, her body completely still. “Please move.”
They stood their ground. The door was open to let in the night air and she was so close to escape she could have chatted with the passersby walking their yappy dogs.
“Please move.”
Nothing.
“Judge Edwards, please ask them to move.”
The militia split and two of the men flanked her, and she realized the situation was actively dangerous. She should have guessed from the matching haircuts; the men had come to the coffee store as a group. An individual could be persuaded, but a group was unified by a cause.
She hated being a cause.
And Edwards didn’t know they were armed.
Edwards laughed. From his perspective, she had allowed herself to stay, to become part of the discussion. Otherwise, she would have shouldered the men aside and vanished into the night.
“You’re a federal employee, Agent Peng. If they want to engage you in conversation, that’s their right.”
It sounded good but Edwards was all but lying. Redress of grievances was not intended to facilitate the wrangling of lone women in coffee shops. Still, nothing would come from arguing law with a judge so she stood her ground. Rachel knew she looked like an idiot, standing motionless and staring off into space, but at least the militia was aware they couldn’t touch her without the weight of consequences shifting against them. As long as no physical contact was made, nothing would happen.
Then the man with the personal defense weapon tried to shove her.
He was one of those who had flanked her and she had been watching him and his Heckler & Koch like a hawk, so when he reached out to push her from behind, he fell forward through open air and found her standing a foot to the left.
“Please don’t,” she said in that same flat voice. She wondered if it would be better to beg in a situation like this, to try and play up her humanity some, or whether that would only make things worse. The Army had emphasized calm and control above all, but they hadn’t been exactly on the cutting edge of cyborg public relations.
Oh well. She wasn’t much for begging anyhow.
They closed on her. The man who threw the first punch was down in two moves and the others backed off to either side, going pale with anxiety as their buddy gasped like a fish on the floor. To his credit, the judge barked orders into the crowd to try and regain control, but besides herself there wasn’t a single person there, militia included, who had come to the press conference to hear what he had to say.
A quick memory, that of Mulcahy telling her she was under no circumstances to ever draw her gun in public (“Never. Not even if—”) swam up unbidden. It had been easy to agree in the quiet of his office, several months back before the crazies had started swarming.
The man with the Heckler & Koch was standing between her and Edwards, which gave her a clear path to the door if she was willing to go through his friend to get there. Rachel had no problem with that. They were past the point of no return and she needed to lead these overfed lawyers into the street before the guns came out. She dropped her stance to put the second man on the floor, thinking for a brief moment that once he was out of her way she’d be able to make it outside before anything worse happened.
Then Heckler & Koch lit up white-hot red behind her.
Rachel’s conscious mind turned command over to instinct before his right hand made it inside of his suit. She had been on the business end of an
Rachel was not about to give it to them. She stopped and stood at parade rest. She kept her voice flat, her body completely still. “Please move.”
They stood their ground. The door was open to let in the night air and she was so close to escape she could have chatted with the passersby walking their yappy dogs.
“Please move.”
Nothing.
“Judge Edwards, please ask them to move.”
The militia split and two of the men flanked her, and she realized the situation was actively dangerous. She should have guessed from the matching haircuts; the men had come to the coffee store as a group. An individual could be persuaded, but a group was unified by a cause.
She hated being a cause.
And Edwards didn’t know they were armed.
Edwards laughed. From his perspective, she had allowed herself to stay, to become part of the discussion. Otherwise, she would have shouldered the men aside and vanished into the night.
“You’re a federal employee, Agent Peng. If they want to engage you in conversation, that’s their right.”
It sounded good but Edwards was all but lying. Redress of grievances was not intended to facilitate the wrangling of lone women in coffee shops. Still, nothing would come from arguing law with a judge so she stood her ground. Rachel knew she looked like an idiot, standing motionless and staring off into space, but at least the militia was aware they couldn’t touch her without the weight of consequences shifting against them. As long as no physical contact was made, nothing would happen.
Then the man with the personal defense weapon tried to shove her.
He was one of those who had flanked her and she had been watching him and his Heckler & Koch like a hawk, so when he reached out to push her from behind, he fell forward through open air and found her standing a foot to the left.
“Please don’t,” she said in that same flat voice. She wondered if it would be better to beg in a situation like this, to try and play up her humanity some, or whether that would only make things worse. The Army had emphasized calm and control above all, but they hadn’t been exactly on the cutting edge of cyborg public relations.
Oh well. She wasn’t much for begging anyhow.
They closed on her. The man who threw the first punch was down in two moves and the others backed off to either side, going pale with anxiety as their buddy gasped like a fish on the floor. To his credit, the judge barked orders into the crowd to try and regain control, but besides herself there wasn’t a single person there, militia included, who had come to the press conference to hear what he had to say.
A quick memory, that of Mulcahy telling her she was under no circumstances to ever draw her gun in public (“Never. Not even if—”) swam up unbidden. It had been easy to agree in the quiet of his office, several months back before the crazies had started swarming.
The man with the Heckler & Koch was standing between her and Edwards, which gave her a clear path to the door if she was willing to go through his friend to get there. Rachel had no problem with that. They were past the point of no return and she needed to lead these overfed lawyers into the street before the guns came out. She dropped her stance to put the second man on the floor, thinking for a brief moment that once he was out of her way she’d be able to make it outside before anything worse happened.
Then Heckler & Koch lit up white-hot red behind her.
Rachel’s conscious mind turned command over to instinct before his right hand made it inside of his suit. She had been on the business end of an
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