My Kaiju Parasite Revived Me, But a Yandere Bought My Streaming Rights

The Hacker stayed silent when Caleb came through the workshop door.

Her chair faced the bench. Her back faced him. The green strand was tucked behind her ear in the way it always was when she was being precise. Three of her monitors were lit and the fourth carried an unlabeled feed.

"Soma," she said without turning around yet. "You know him."

"I know him."

"Then we need to talk."

"We need to talk after I finish telling you what I should have told you eleven months ago."

Caleb pulled the spare stool over and sat down.

Her chair stayed facing the bench.

"Soma is one of seven. The Defense Force keeps their ranks off files because the rank itself is classified. He has been the consult on Sector Nine for six years. He has been the consult on three other corruption zones I’m not cleared to name. He works near the Defense Force, not for it. He lets them enjoy the illusion because the arrangement is useful, and because he hasn’t yet been bored enough to change it."

"Iris said three days."

"Iris said three days because Iris is required to say three days. Soma will be at the Seventh for as long as Soma needs to be. Iris, the sponsor council, and Crayne all become furniture when he decides to keep standing in a room. I’m telling you this because you’re about to mistake currency for leverage. Currency runs out."

"What’s my currency."

She finally turned around.

The lamp on the bench caught the line of her jaw and the exhaustion underneath her eyes. She usually hid that at this hour. The cut on her ribs had been redressed; he could see the edge of the new bandage at the seam of her coverall.

"You. The thing in you. The thing that read him back in the briefing room. Soma caught it before you walked through the door. The reason the plant in the lobby was leaning was because Soma is not human in the way most of the building thinks he is, and the spiral in your ribs is not human in the way you think it is, and the two of those have a conversation when you put them in the same building, whether either one of you wants the conversation or not."

Caleb studied the fourth monitor.

The unlabeled feed showed a hallway he knew by its ceiling pipes. Lower containment. A strip of floor too clean for the building led to a door with three deadbolts the camera pretended not to care about.

"You sound like you’ve had this conversation before."

"With Soma? No."

"With someone like him."

"There are no people like him. There are categories adjacent to him. That is already bad enough."

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

"It was supposed to make you stop looking for a door marked normal."

"Tali told me my bypass is reading two lines."

"Tali told you the truth. The second line is Soma’s resonance, two days ahead of his arrival. I held it back because I needed a name before I gave you a ghost."

"A ghost with a rank."

"A ghost with travel authority, clean credentials, and no drag on the outer sensors. That is worse than a ghost. Ghosts make old equipment complain."

"Soma doesn’t."

"Soma makes good equipment lie politely."

-----

He let the silence sit. He had learned that silence with her was worth what it cost him.

She watched him sit with it.

"What do you want me to do," he said.

"Lie carefully. Feed him exactly enough information to keep him here, then stop before he leaves with the working file. Keep the folders out of the building. Keep the photograph on you. Do not talk about your father within the walls of any structure he has touched in the last forty-eight hours. When Soma asks another question with four parts, lie on a different one."

"He’ll catch that."

"He will catch it the second time. He will let you see him catch it. That is the game he is playing with you. Winning is a distraction. Staying inside the game long enough for him to tell you what he wants is the useful part."

"Useful to you."

"Useful to us."

"That’s a promotion."

"Temporary. Don’t get sentimental." He almost smiled despite himself. Almost.

The cut at her ribs stopped him. The way her hand hovered near the bench stopped him more. The Hacker disliked showing pain the way some people disliked showing debt, but her whole body had arranged itself around one fact: she was hurt, and she had still come to the monitors before she came to the bandage.

Caleb thought about that.

He thought about the man at the table that morning who had read him back through the wall of his own ribs, and the plant in the lobby that had leaned toward the corridor, and the seven SSS-Rank operators in the world whose ranks were the thing the Defense Force was required to defend.

"He asked about my father."

"He asked because he knows enough. Not what your father did. That your father did something. He will trade that with you when you have something worth giving back."

"And the man with eyes."

"The man with eyes is not on Soma’s list. Yet."

"How long until he is?"

"Three days. Four if we’re clean."

-----

Tali came through the workshop door at eleven-twelve with a diagnostic wafer in hand.

Her breathing was steady. Her pace was controlled. Tali never ran when the sentence mattered more than the seconds.

"Sample R-9-Omega is pulsing."

"Define pulsing."

"Define a heartbeat. It has one. This morning, it had none. The containment lab pulled four other Rank C operators down to watch the readings, and nobody can make it stop. They have not told Iris yet because Iris is in a closed-door with Soma, and protocol says you do not interrupt a Rank C audit unless the audit subject is on fire. The audit subject is the thing pulsing."

The Hacker’s hand stayed on the bench. Her knuckles had gone white in the way they had gone white in the buried vault.

"Sector Nine," she said.

"Sector Nine grew six percent in the last four hours," Tali said. "Iris’s terminal is pinging. So is the public ticker. The sponsor feed is calling it ’anomalous expansion.’ Mitsurugi has pulled three of its private contractors off lower-priority sectors and rerouted them. The First Division is on standby. Nobody has told us yet because we aren’t on the list of people who are going to be told."

"They will tell us in the next forty minutes," Caleb said.

Caleb sat on his stool.

Tali wiped the solder paste off her cheek with the back of her wrist and only made the smear longer.

"I can pull the bypass feed local," she said. "Three minutes if nobody talks to me. Six if someone says the word protocol."

"Pull it," the Hacker said.

"Already pulling."

"Then why are you still standing there."

"Because I wanted to see his face when I said heartbeat."

Caleb turned to her.

Tali met him, pale under the workshop lamp and angry in a way that had no clean place to go.

"Worth the trip," she said.

His ribs warmed under his suit.

The warmth matched neither contaminant reaction nor Soma’s nearby resonance.

This was something else.

Something inside him was listening very carefully to the sound of something very large, somewhere very far away, beginning to wake.

His comms-chip ticked.

[Halsworth Crayne: He moved one. Not the smallest one. The third one from the right, at the back of the vault. He moved it at oh-five-eleven this morning. I do not know where it went. I am telling you because the trade is closed and you have earned the next sentence. The next sentence is that I am leaving the city tonight, and I am leaving because I am not large enough to be in the city when the thing he moved finishes finding the place he is moving it to.]

Caleb read the message twice.

He turned to the Hacker.

She had read it on her own screen at the same moment, because she was always reading his comms when the comms mattered.

"Soon," he said.

"Soon," she said.

Tali’s attention moved between them. "What does *soon* mean?"

The lamp on the workshop bench held steady, and the four monitors held their glow.

Somewhere far away, a thing the size of a man with the geometry of a face took its first breath in nineteen years.

Caleb gave Tali silence.

The answer moved through the floor under their feet, faint enough that none of them were sure it had happened, and big enough that none of them would forget when it had.