{"data":{"id":13636,"title":"DATELINE: SESEN: Part Nine","rsi_url":"https:\/\/robertsspaceindustries.com\/comm-link\/serialized-fiction\/13636-DATELINE-SESEN-Part-Nine","api_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/api\/comm-links\/13636","api_public_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/comm-links\/13636","channel":"Undefined","category":"Undefined","series":"Dateline: Sesen","images":[{"id":1292,"name":"DatelineSesenFI3.jpg","rsi_url":"https:\/\/robertsspaceindustries.com\/media\/x3l6h1jdbgno8r\/source\/DatelineSesenFI3.jpg","alt":"","size":1595560,"mime_type":"image\/jpeg","last_modified":"2014-01-29T19:43:33+00:00","api_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/api\/comm-link-images\/1292","similar_url":"https:\/\/api.star-citizen.wiki\/api\/comm-link-images\/1292\/similar"}],"images_count":1,"translations":{"en_EN":"New United Reporter Kills Man during Mission. Yadav Claims Self Defense. Advocacy Claims Murder.\n\n\u201cNo, no, no, no \u2026\u201d Yadav repeated, over and over, while scouring the vest for a med kit.\n\nBlood dribbled from the corner of the shooter\u2019s mouth, and gurgles surged from deep in his chest when he tried to talk. With a jerky pivot, he turned his head toward Yadav, pleading with his eyes.\n\n\u201cHang on,\u201d she begged. And though her fingers tore at the pockets, she knew there was nothing she could do.\n\nThe chase wasn\u2019t supposed to go this way. Bile rose in her throat, and she had to consciously fight to keep it down. She tried being rational with herself \u2014 he\u2019d tried to kill her. She couldn\u2019t feel bad about defending herself.\n\nBut he was so young. From far away, with his black hood up, she\u2019d been unable to gauge his age.\n\nHe couldn\u2019t have been more than eighteen or nineteen.\n\nShe pulled out the sanitary wipes, but what good were they? Second-skin for burns was useless. But here, this \u2014 a stim. A hit might take the edge off dying. That is, if he could inhale anything.\n\nShe lit it anyway.\n\nThere was no interviewing him now. All she could do was wait for the light to go out.\nShe kept her thumb against his wrist, monitoring his pulse. The rhythm slowed with each beat. After the last thump, she waited a full minute before closing his eyes.\n\nThen she unzipped his black jacket. She needed to give him a once-over before leaving. I\u2019m not heading back to the hill before I know why you tried to kill me. He wore no shirt beneath, and his chest and arms bore an army of tattoos. Everything from a Banu profile, to two Cutlasses dogfighting, to a free-form poem adorned his skin. It all looked home-made. Some might have been self-applied.\n\nPushing up both sleeves, she examined his forearms. On the inside of his left wrist, in a similar placement to her press tattoo, was an abstract symbol that caught her eye. She\u2019d seen the symbol somewhere before. Recently. It was the same as some of the graffiti \u2014 the ones she\u2019d seen covering up other markings.\n\nWas he a gang member?\n\nBiting her lip, she re-opened his eyes, pulling back on the lids. Maybe he was just a crazed junky with no particular motivation to kill Yadav. A random shooter. Perhaps he just didn\u2019t like her face.\n\nBut his eyes looked clear, as did his veins. He was, however, wearing an unusual contact.\nGently, so as to make sure it didn\u2019t tear or pinch, she extracted it from his eye. A holographic image seemed to be imbedded in the lens.\n\nHygiene made her hesitate, but curiosity won out. She pulled down her lower lid and slid the contact over her right eye. Dry and scratchy, it forced her to blink repeatedly before the imbedded image came into focus. Her fingers itched to rub her socket, but she knew it would only make the irritation worse.\n\nIt was a map \u2014 but not a static map. A small, red dot blinked at the left of her vision, beckoning her. No matter which way she turned her head, the dot remained fixated on the same place in the distance.\n\nForgetting the body, she rose and stumbled in the direction of the blinking light. It led her only a few buildings away, to an abandoned three-story apartment complex with a giant hole through its center. She could see from the ground floor all the way up to the sky. This place had a funny smell \u2014 instead of the crusty scent of sun-baked earth, it had a chemical twinge. Something industrial had been through here recently, clean and new. Freshly acid washed, perhaps.\n\nEmbedded in one interior wall was a large, armored door. Thick, with heavy bolts. It reminded her of an old hotel vault.\n\n\u201cYou look out of place,\u201d she said, surprised to find such a thing. But, sure enough, the blinking red light settled in its dead center.\n\nHad the shooter been leading her here all along? Was he supposed to stuff her body in there? Weird way to dispose of a kill, in her opinion. But what else could be inside? Why would he need a map to get here? What was it for?\n\nToo many questions. She hated having so many questions in play. Sometimes she thought that was why she ferreted out answers \u2014 to silence all the uncertainties banging around in her head.\n\nOn the door, just below a barred handle, sat a scanner that looked to be Chimera Communications in origin. Clearly it controlled the locking mechanism. But what was the key? What kind of input was it looking for?\n\nAs a test, she placed her palm on the scanner\u2019s glass face. Nothing happened. It looked too big for an eye scanner, but she leaned forward anyway, hoping the contact was both map and key. No go.\n\nShe glanced around for clues. Someone had to have been here before, used it before. Maybe they\u2019d left something behind.\n\nMore rubble. More graffiti. Nothing out of the ordinary, except the damn door.\n\nWith a huff, Yadav sat down on a lopsided slab of what used to be a wall. Red and brown splotches stained her hands \u2014 a mixture of dirt and blood. The manic frenzy of adrenaline that had coursed through her during the chase was gone. Drained, physically and mentally spent, she didn\u2019t move for several minutes. She simply stared at the door, hoping something would jump out at her.\n\nHer mind wandered to Haddix. Maybe, when she got back to headquarters, she could track down his next of kin and \u2026 and what? The thought was foreign, strange. She\u2019d never thought to seek out a dead colleague\u2019s family before. But then again, she\u2019d never had to shoulder the blame for a death.\n\nGuilt was an unusual emotion for Yadav, unused for many years. It felt crusty, like sun-damaged leather. She lived without attachments, beholden to no person but herself and no entity save New United. Things were simple that way. People were the only true cause of tragedy. They dredged up all the rotten things in the world and left complicated, sickening emotions \u2014 hurt, anger, guilt, sorrow \u2014 in their wake.\n\nPeople were complicated, but news stories were simple. She was a traditional kind of reporter. Just the facts. No spin, no tilt. Just who, what, where, when. Whys complicated things, got messy, and were always up for interpretation. She didn\u2019t like interpretations \u2014 they skewed reality.\n\nBut this job didn\u2019t feel straightforward. Haddix was dead, and that changed everything. His children would ask why, and she would have to give a reason, interpret the situation for them. Dry facts wouldn\u2019t be enough.\n\nShe rubbed her hands against the edge of the slab, buffing off the spots. Sighing, she tilted her head to the side, attempting to get a new perspective on the gargantuan door. It presented a physical road block, but also seemed to represent a mental block. If she could break through, what would she find on the other side?\n\nHer gaze was drawn once more to the blob of graffiti next to the door. It was another layered set, with a red emblem on top \u2014 the one that matched the shooter\u2019s wrist tattoo.\n\nShe groaned as she put two-and-two together.\n\nThe tattoo was the key.\n\nDragging her feet, she reluctantly left the building and wound her way back to the body. It was still there, untouched, staked through by the iron rods.\n\nHow was she supposed to get his wrist from point A to point B?\n\nOption one involved sliding his body up and off of the rods. The rebar was short \u2014 rising perhaps ten centimeters above her head. Doable, maybe, if she could find the strength. Option two was the simpler route, but it turned her stomach. If all she needed was his tattoo, why not just cut it off? Surely there was a knife in the vest.\n\nNope, option two was not happening. She\u2019d already caused his death, she wasn\u2019t going to desecrate his corpse, too.\n\nYadav positioned herself under his ribcage, and pushed up with her shoulder blades and back. Thick, sticky blood coiled down the iron poles like dark molasses. With her first attempt, he only rose half a meter. It took her four more tries to get him fully over her head, and a fifth to push him off and over.\n\nHe hit the dirt with a sickening thud.\n\nShe paused for a moment. Pursing her lips, she turned away from his prone form. Uh. The morbidity of the situation barreled down on her full-force. Her lungs stuttered with each breath, and she gagged twice before regaining her composure.\n\nThe distance from where he\u2019d fallen to the building with the vault door had seemed short before. Maybe a few hundred meters. But now, hauling a limp body through uneven alleys, it felt like light years.\n\nFinally she arrived back at the door. As the body drew near, the scanner came to life. It could sense the key.\n\nOut of breath, her muscles aching, Yadav pulled one more burst of energy from deep in her gut. She hoisted the body up by one arm, and positioned the tattoo over the scanner. The door did the rest.\n\nMechanisms inside the walls groaned and squeaked. The bolts slid back with well-lubricated ease. Slowly, the door automatically swung outwards, forcing Yadav to pull the shooter\u2019s body out of the way.\n\nShe wasn\u2019t sure what she\u2019d expected to find inside. More corpses? Guns? A secret stash of diamonds and rubies?\n\nWhatever she\u2019d imagined, it hadn\u2019t been anywhere near the truth. On the other side of the door lay a spiral staircase. It snaked down, down, down into the darkness below the city.\n\nto be continued \u2026","de_DE":"Neuer United Reporter t\u00f6tet Mann w\u00e4hrend der Mission. Yadav beansprucht Selbstverteidigung. Advocacy fordert Mord.\n\n\"Nein, nein, nein, nein, nein, nein, nein...\" Yadav wiederholte, wiederholte und wiederholte, w\u00e4hrend er die Weste nach einem Med-Kit durchk\u00e4mmte.\n\nBlut tropfte aus dem Mundwinkel des Sch\u00fctzen, und Gurgel stiegen aus der Tiefe seiner Brust, als er versuchte zu sprechen. Mit einem holprigen Drehpunkt drehte er seinen Kopf in Richtung Yadav und flehte mit seinen Augen.\n\n\"Warte mal\", bettelte sie. Und obwohl ihre Finger an den Taschen zerrissen waren, wusste sie, dass es nichts gab, was sie tun konnte.\n\nDie Jagd sollte nicht in diese Richtung gehen. Galle erhob sich in ihrer Kehle, und sie musste bewusst k\u00e4mpfen, um sie niedrig zu halten. Sie versuchte, rational mit sich selbst umzugehen - er hatte versucht, sie zu t\u00f6ten. Sie konnte sich nicht schlecht f\u00fchlen, weil sie sich verteidigt hat.\n\nAber er war noch so jung. Von weitem, mit seiner schwarzen Kapuze oben, konnte sie sein Alter nicht einsch\u00e4tzen.\n\nEr konnte nicht \u00e4lter als achtzehn oder neunzehn Jahre sein.\n\nSie zog die Hygienet\u00fccher heraus, aber was haben sie davon? Die zweite Haut f\u00fcr Verbrennungen war nutzlos. Aber hier, das - ein Stim. Ein Treffer k\u00f6nnte den Tod lindern. Das hei\u00dft, wenn er etwas einatmen k\u00f6nnte.\n\nSie hat es trotzdem angez\u00fcndet.\n\nEs gab jetzt kein Interview mit ihm. Alles, was sie tun konnte, war zu warten, bis das Licht erlosch.\nSie hielt ihren Daumen an seinem Handgelenk und \u00fcberwachte seinen Puls. Der Rhythmus verlangsamte sich mit jedem Schlag. Nach dem letzten Schlag wartete sie eine ganze Minute, bevor sie seine Augen schloss.\n\nDann \u00f6ffnete sie den Rei\u00dfverschluss seiner schwarzen Jacke. Sie musste ihn noch einmal durchgehen lassen, bevor sie ging. Ich gehe nicht zur\u00fcck auf den H\u00fcgel, bevor ich wei\u00df, warum du versucht hast, mich zu t\u00f6ten. Er trug kein Hemd darunter, und seine Brust und Arme trugen eine Armee von Tattoos. Alles, von einem Banu-Profil \u00fcber zwei Entermesser Luftk\u00e4mpfe bis hin zu einem Freiformgedicht, schm\u00fcckte seine Haut. Es sah alles wie selbstgemacht aus. Einige wurden vielleicht selbst angewendet.\n\nSie schob beide \u00c4rmel hoch und untersuchte seine Unterarme. Auf der Innenseite seines linken Handgelenks, in einer \u00e4hnlichen Position wie bei ihrem Pressentattoo, befand sich ein abstraktes Symbol, das ihr ins Auge fiel. Sie hatte das Symbol schon einmal irgendwo gesehen. In letzter Zeit. Es war das gleiche wie bei einigen der Graffitis - diejenigen, die sie gesehen hatte, die andere Markierungen verdeckten.\n\nWar er ein Bandenmitglied?\n\nSie biss sich auf die Lippe, \u00f6ffnete seine Augen wieder und zog sich an den Lidern zur\u00fcck. Vielleicht war er nur ein verr\u00fcckter Junky ohne besondere Motivation, Yadav zu t\u00f6ten. Ein zuf\u00e4lliger Sch\u00fctze. Vielleicht mochte er nur ihr Gesicht nicht.\n\nAber seine Augen sahen klar aus, ebenso wie seine Venen. Er trug jedoch einen ungew\u00f6hnlichen Kontakt.\nVorsichtig, um sicherzustellen, dass es nicht rei\u00dft oder kneift, zog sie es aus seinem Auge. Ein holografisches Bild schien in die Linse eingebettet zu sein.\n\nDie Hygiene lie\u00df sie z\u00f6gern, aber die Neugierde gewann. Sie zog ihr Unterlid herunter und schob den Kontakt \u00fcber ihr rechtes Auge. Trocken und kratzig zwang es sie, immer wieder zu blinzeln, bevor das eingeschlossene Bild in den Fokus kam. Ihre Finger juckten danach, ihre Pfanne zu reiben, aber sie wusste, dass es die Irritation nur noch verst\u00e4rken w\u00fcrde.\n\nEs war eine Karte - aber keine statische Karte. Ein kleiner, roter Punkt blinzelte links von ihrem Blick und lockte sie an. Egal, in welche Richtung sie ihren Kopf drehte, der Punkt blieb an der gleichen Stelle in der Ferne fixiert.\n\nSie verga\u00df den K\u00f6rper, stand auf und stolperte in Richtung des blinkenden Lichts. Es f\u00fchrte sie nur wenige Geb\u00e4ude weiter zu einem verlassenen dreist\u00f6ckigen Wohnkomplex mit einem riesigen Loch in der Mitte. Sie konnte vom Erdgeschoss bis zum Himmel sehen. Dieser Ort hatte einen komischen Geruch - statt des knusprigen Geruchs von sonnengebackener Erde hatte er einen chemischen Stich. Etwas Industrielles war hier in letzter Zeit durchgedrungen, sauber und neu. Frisch gewaschene S\u00e4ure, vielleicht.\n\nIn eine Innenwand war eine gro\u00dfe, gepanzerte T\u00fcr eingebettet. Dick, mit schweren Schrauben. Es erinnerte sie an einen alten Hoteltresor.\n\n\"Du siehst fehl am Platz\", sagte sie \u00fcberrascht, so etwas zu finden. Aber sicher genug, das blinkende rote Licht setzte sich in seinem Totpunkt ab.\n\nHatte der Sch\u00fctze sie die ganze Zeit hierher gef\u00fchrt? Sollte er ihren K\u00f6rper da reinstopfen? Merkw\u00fcrdige Art und Weise, einen Mord zu beseitigen, ihrer Meinung nach. Aber was k\u00f6nnte sonst noch drin sein? Warum sollte er eine Karte brauchen, um hierher zu kommen? Wof\u00fcr war das?\n\nZu viele Fragen. Sie hasste es, so viele Fragen im Spiel zu haben. Manchmal dachte sie, dass sie deshalb Antworten aufsp\u00fcrte - um all die Unsicherheiten zum Schweigen zu bringen, die in ihrem Kopf herumschwirren.\n\nAn der T\u00fcr, direkt unter einem vergitterten Griff, sa\u00df ein Scanner, der aussah, als w\u00e4re er urspr\u00fcnglich von Chim\u00e4ra-Kommunikation gepr\u00e4gt. Offensichtlich hat es den Verriegelungsmechanismus gesteuert. Aber was war der Schl\u00fcssel? Welche Art von Input suchte sie?\n\nAls Test legte sie ihre Handfl\u00e4che auf die Glasfl\u00e4che des Scanners. Nichts ist passiert. Es sah f\u00fcr einen Augenscanner zu gro\u00df aus, aber sie lehnte sich trotzdem nach vorne, in der Hoffnung, dass der Kontakt sowohl Karte als auch Schl\u00fcssel war. Auf keinen Fall.\n\nSie sah sich nach Hinweisen um. Jemand muss schon mal hier gewesen sein, hat es schon mal benutzt. Vielleicht hatten sie etwas zur\u00fcckgelassen.\n\nNoch mehr Schutt. Mehr Graffiti. Nichts Ungew\u00f6hnliches, au\u00dfer der verdammten T\u00fcr.\n\nMit einem Schnaufen setzte sich Yadav auf eine einseitige Platte aus einer ehemaligen Wand. Rote und braune Flecken fleckten ihre H\u00e4nde - eine Mischung aus Schmutz und Blut. Der manische Adrenalinrausch, der sie w\u00e4hrend der Jagd durchquert hatte, war vorbei. Entleert, k\u00f6rperlich und geistig verbraucht, bewegte sie sich mehrere Minuten lang nicht. Sie starrte einfach auf die T\u00fcr und hoffte, dass etwas auf sie zukommen w\u00fcrde.\n\nIhr Verstand wanderte zu Haddix. Vielleicht, als sie zur\u00fcck ins Hauptquartier kam, konnte sie seine n\u00e4chsten Verwandten aufsp\u00fcren und... und was? Der Gedanke war fremd, seltsam. Sie h\u00e4tte nie gedacht, die Familie eines toten Kollegen zu finden. Aber andererseits hatte sie noch nie die Schuld f\u00fcr einen Tod tragen m\u00fcssen.\n\nSchuld war ein ungew\u00f6hnliches Gef\u00fchl f\u00fcr Yadav, das viele Jahre ungenutzt blieb. Es f\u00fchlte sich krustig an, wie sonnengesch\u00e4digtes Leder. Sie lebte ohne Bindungen, sie war niemandem au\u00dfer sich selbst verpflichtet und kein Wesen rettete New United. Die Dinge waren so einfach. Menschen waren die einzig wahre Ursache f\u00fcr Trag\u00f6dien. Sie gruben alle verrotteten Dinge der Welt aus und hinterlie\u00dfen komplizierte, widerw\u00e4rtige Emotionen - Verletzung, Wut, Schuld, Trauer - in ihrem Gefolge.\n\nDie Menschen waren kompliziert, aber die Nachrichten waren einfach. Sie war eine traditionelle Art von Reporterin. Nur die Fakten. Kein Drehen, keine Neigung. Nur wer, was, was, wo, wann. Warum komplizierte Dinge, wurde chaotisch und war immer bereit f\u00fcr Interpretationen. Sie mochte keine Interpretationen - sie verzerrten die Realit\u00e4t.\n\nAber dieser Job f\u00fchlte sich nicht einfach an. Haddix war tot, und das \u00e4nderte alles. Seine Kinder fragten, warum, und sie musste einen Grund nennen, die Situation f\u00fcr sie interpretieren. Trockene Fakten w\u00fcrden nicht ausreichen.\n\nSie rieb ihre H\u00e4nde an der Kante der Platte und polierte die Stellen ab. Seufzend neigte sie ihren Kopf zur Seite und versuchte, eine neue Perspektive auf die gigantische T\u00fcr zu bekommen. Es stellte eine physische Stra\u00dfensperre dar, schien aber auch eine mentale Sperre dar. Wenn sie durchbrechen k\u00f6nnte, was w\u00fcrde sie dann auf der anderen Seite finden?\n\nIhr Blick war wieder einmal auf den Graffiti-Klecks neben der T\u00fcr gerichtet. Es war ein weiteres mehrschichtiges Set, mit einem roten Emblem oben drauf - dasjenige, das zum Handgelenkstattoo des Sch\u00fctzen passte.\n\nSie st\u00f6hnte, als sie zwei und zwei zusammensetzte.\n\nDie T\u00e4towierung war der Schl\u00fcssel.\n\nMit schleppenden F\u00fc\u00dfen verlie\u00df sie widerwillig das Geb\u00e4ude und wand sich zur\u00fcck zum K\u00f6rper. Es war noch immer da, unber\u00fchrt, von den Eisenstangen durchbohrt.\n\nWie sollte sie sein Handgelenk von Punkt A nach Punkt B bekommen?\n\nOption eins beinhaltete das Schieben seines K\u00f6rpers nach oben und unten von den St\u00e4ben. Der Betonstahl war kurz - er erhob sich vielleicht zehn Zentimeter \u00fcber ihren Kopf. Machbar, vielleicht, wenn sie die Kraft finden k\u00f6nnte. Option zwei war die einfachere Route, aber sie drehte ihr den Magen um. Wenn sie nur sein Tattoo brauchte, warum nicht einfach abschneiden? Sicherlich war da ein Messer in der Weste.\n\nNein, Option zwei war nicht m\u00f6glich. Sie hatte bereits seinen Tod verursacht, sie wollte nicht auch noch seine Leiche sch\u00e4nden.\n\nYadav positionierte sich unter seinem Brustkorb und dr\u00fcckte sich mit ihren Schulterbl\u00e4ttern und ihrem R\u00fccken nach oben. Dickes, klebriges Blut wand sich wie dunkle Melasse \u00fcber die Eisenpole. Bei ihrem ersten Versuch stieg er nur einen halben Meter hoch. Es dauerte vier weitere Versuche, um ihn vollst\u00e4ndig \u00fcber ihren Kopf zu bekommen, und ein f\u00fcnftes, um ihn von und zu schieben.\n\nEr traf den Schmutz mit einem ekelhaften Schlag.\n\nSie hielt f\u00fcr einen Moment inne. Als sie sich die Lippen streichelte, wandte sie sich von seiner neigenden Form ab. \u00c4h. Die Morbidit\u00e4t der Situation hat sich mit voller Kraft niedergeschlagen. Ihre Lungen stotterten bei jedem Atemzug, und sie w\u00fcrgte zweimal, bevor sie ihre Gelassenheit wiedererlangte.\n\nDie Entfernung von dem Ort, an dem er zu dem Geb\u00e4ude mit der Gew\u00f6lbe-T\u00fcr gefallen war, schien kurz zuvor gewesen zu sein. Vielleicht ein paar hundert Meter. Aber jetzt, als ich einen schlaffen K\u00f6rper durch unebene Gassen schleppte, f\u00fchlte es sich wie Lichtjahre an.\n\nSchlie\u00dflich kam sie wieder an der T\u00fcr an. Als sich der K\u00f6rper n\u00e4herte, erwachte der Scanner zum Leben. Es konnte den Schl\u00fcssel sp\u00fcren.\n\nAu\u00dfer Atem, ihre Muskeln schmerzen, Yadav zog einen weiteren Energieschub aus der Tiefe ihres Darms. Sie hob den K\u00f6rper um einen Arm hoch und positionierte die T\u00e4towierung \u00fcber dem Scanner. Die T\u00fcr erledigte den Rest.\n\nMechanismen innerhalb der W\u00e4nde st\u00f6hnen und quietschen. Die Schrauben schoben sich mit gut geschmierter Leichtigkeit zur\u00fcck. Langsam schwang die T\u00fcr automatisch nach au\u00dfen und zwang Yadav, den K\u00f6rper des Sch\u00fctzen aus dem Weg zu ziehen.\n\nSie war sich nicht sicher, was sie erwartet hatte. Noch mehr Leichen? Waffen? Ein geheimer Vorrat an Diamanten und Rubinen?\n\nWas auch immer sie sich vorgestellt hatte, es war nicht ann\u00e4hernd die Wahrheit gewesen. Auf der anderen Seite der T\u00fcr lag eine Wendeltreppe. Es schl\u00e4ngelte sich hinunter, hinunter, hinunter, hinunter in die Dunkelheit unter der Stadt.\n\nwird fortgesetzt.....","zh_CN":"New United Reporter Kills Man during Mission. Yadav Claims Self Defense. Advocacy Claims Murder.\n\n\u201cNo, no, no, no \u2026\u201d Yadav repeated, over and over, while scouring the vest for a med kit.\n\nBlood dribbled from the corner of the shooter\u2019s mouth, and gurgles surged from deep in his chest when he tried to talk. With a jerky pivot, he turned his head toward Yadav, pleading with his eyes.\n\n\u201cHang on,\u201d she begged. And though her fingers tore at the pockets, she knew there was nothing she could do.\n\nThe chase wasn\u2019t supposed to go this way. Bile rose in her throat, and she had to consciously fight to keep it down. She tried being rational with herself \u2014 he\u2019d tried to kill her. She couldn\u2019t feel bad about defending herself.\n\nBut he was so young. From far away, with his black hood up, she\u2019d been unable to gauge his age.\n\nHe couldn\u2019t have been more than eighteen or nineteen.\n\nShe pulled out the sanitary wipes, but what good were they? Second-skin for burns was useless. But here, this \u2014 a stim. A hit might take the edge off dying. That is, if he could inhale anything.\n\nShe lit it anyway.\n\nThere was no interviewing him now. All she could do was wait for the light to go out.\nShe kept her thumb against his wrist, monitoring his pulse. The rhythm slowed with each beat. After the last thump, she waited a full minute before closing his eyes.\n\nThen she unzipped his black jacket. She needed to give him a once-over before leaving. I\u2019m not heading back to the hill before I know why you tried to kill me. He wore no shirt beneath, and his chest and arms bore an army of tattoos. Everything from a Banu profile, to two Cutlasses dogfighting, to a free-form poem adorned his skin. It all looked home-made. Some might have been self-applied.\n\nPushing up both sleeves, she examined his forearms. On the inside of his left wrist, in a similar placement to her press tattoo, was an abstract symbol that caught her eye. She\u2019d seen the symbol somewhere before. Recently. It was the same as some of the graffiti \u2014 the ones she\u2019d seen covering up other markings.\n\nWas he a gang member?\n\nBiting her lip, she re-opened his eyes, pulling back on the lids. Maybe he was just a crazed junky with no particular motivation to kill Yadav. A random shooter. Perhaps he just didn\u2019t like her face.\n\nBut his eyes looked clear, as did his veins. He was, however, wearing an unusual contact.\nGently, so as to make sure it didn\u2019t tear or pinch, she extracted it from his eye. A holographic image seemed to be imbedded in the lens.\n\nHygiene made her hesitate, but curiosity won out. She pulled down her lower lid and slid the contact over her right eye. Dry and scratchy, it forced her to blink repeatedly before the imbedded image came into focus. Her fingers itched to rub her socket, but she knew it would only make the irritation worse.\n\nIt was a map \u2014 but not a static map. A small, red dot blinked at the left of her vision, beckoning her. No matter which way she turned her head, the dot remained fixated on the same place in the distance.\n\nForgetting the body, she rose and stumbled in the direction of the blinking light. It led her only a few buildings away, to an abandoned three-story apartment complex with a giant hole through its center. She could see from the ground floor all the way up to the sky. This place had a funny smell \u2014 instead of the crusty scent of sun-baked earth, it had a chemical twinge. Something industrial had been through here recently, clean and new. Freshly acid washed, perhaps.\n\nEmbedded in one interior wall was a large, armored door. Thick, with heavy bolts. It reminded her of an old hotel vault.\n\n\u201cYou look out of place,\u201d she said, surprised to find such a thing. But, sure enough, the blinking red light settled in its dead center.\n\nHad the shooter been leading her here all along? Was he supposed to stuff her body in there? Weird way to dispose of a kill, in her opinion. But what else could be inside? Why would he need a map to get here? What was it for?\n\nToo many questions. She hated having so many questions in play. Sometimes she thought that was why she ferreted out answers \u2014 to silence all the uncertainties banging around in her head.\n\nOn the door, just below a barred handle, sat a scanner that looked to be Chimera Communications in origin. Clearly it controlled the locking mechanism. But what was the key? What kind of input was it looking for?\n\nAs a test, she placed her palm on the scanner\u2019s glass face. Nothing happened. It looked too big for an eye scanner, but she leaned forward anyway, hoping the contact was both map and key. No go.\n\nShe glanced around for clues. Someone had to have been here before, used it before. Maybe they\u2019d left something behind.\n\nMore rubble. More graffiti. Nothing out of the ordinary, except the damn door.\n\nWith a huff, Yadav sat down on a lopsided slab of what used to be a wall. Red and brown splotches stained her hands \u2014 a mixture of dirt and blood. The manic frenzy of adrenaline that had coursed through her during the chase was gone. Drained, physically and mentally spent, she didn\u2019t move for several minutes. She simply stared at the door, hoping something would jump out at her.\n\nHer mind wandered to Haddix. Maybe, when she got back to headquarters, she could track down his next of kin and \u2026 and what? The thought was foreign, strange. She\u2019d never thought to seek out a dead colleague\u2019s family before. But then again, she\u2019d never had to shoulder the blame for a death.\n\nGuilt was an unusual emotion for Yadav, unused for many years. It felt crusty, like sun-damaged leather. She lived without attachments, beholden to no person but herself and no entity save New United. Things were simple that way. People were the only true cause of tragedy. They dredged up all the rotten things in the world and left complicated, sickening emotions \u2014 hurt, anger, guilt, sorrow \u2014 in their wake.\n\nPeople were complicated, but news stories were simple. She was a traditional kind of reporter. Just the facts. No spin, no tilt. Just who, what, where, when. Whys complicated things, got messy, and were always up for interpretation. She didn\u2019t like interpretations \u2014 they skewed reality.\n\nBut this job didn\u2019t feel straightforward. Haddix was dead, and that changed everything. His children would ask why, and she would have to give a reason, interpret the situation for them. Dry facts wouldn\u2019t be enough.\n\nShe rubbed her hands against the edge of the slab, buffing off the spots. Sighing, she tilted her head to the side, attempting to get a new perspective on the gargantuan door. It presented a physical road block, but also seemed to represent a mental block. If she could break through, what would she find on the other side?\n\nHer gaze was drawn once more to the blob of graffiti next to the door. It was another layered set, with a red emblem on top \u2014 the one that matched the shooter\u2019s wrist tattoo.\n\nShe groaned as she put two-and-two together.\n\nThe tattoo was the key.\n\nDragging her feet, she reluctantly left the building and wound her way back to the body. It was still there, untouched, staked through by the iron rods.\n\nHow was she supposed to get his wrist from point A to point B?\n\nOption one involved sliding his body up and off of the rods. The rebar was short \u2014 rising perhaps ten centimeters above her head. Doable, maybe, if she could find the strength. Option two was the simpler route, but it turned her stomach. If all she needed was his tattoo, why not just cut it off? Surely there was a knife in the vest.\n\nNope, option two was not happening. She\u2019d already caused his death, she wasn\u2019t going to desecrate his corpse, too.\n\nYadav positioned herself under his ribcage, and pushed up with her shoulder blades and back. Thick, sticky blood coiled down the iron poles like dark molasses. With her first attempt, he only rose half a meter. It took her four more tries to get him fully over her head, and a fifth to push him off and over.\n\nHe hit the dirt with a sickening thud.\n\nShe paused for a moment. Pursing her lips, she turned away from his prone form. Uh. The morbidity of the situation barreled down on her full-force. Her lungs stuttered with each breath, and she gagged twice before regaining her composure.\n\nThe distance from where he\u2019d fallen to the building with the vault door had seemed short before. Maybe a few hundred meters. But now, hauling a limp body through uneven alleys, it felt like light years.\n\nFinally she arrived back at the door. As the body drew near, the scanner came to life. It could sense the key.\n\nOut of breath, her muscles aching, Yadav pulled one more burst of energy from deep in her gut. She hoisted the body up by one arm, and positioned the tattoo over the scanner. The door did the rest.\n\nMechanisms inside the walls groaned and squeaked. The bolts slid back with well-lubricated ease. Slowly, the door automatically swung outwards, forcing Yadav to pull the shooter\u2019s body out of the way.\n\nShe wasn\u2019t sure what she\u2019d expected to find inside. More corpses? Guns? A secret stash of diamonds and rubies?\n\nWhatever she\u2019d imagined, it hadn\u2019t been anywhere near the truth. On the other side of the door lay a spiral staircase. It snaked down, down, down into the darkness below the city.\n\nto be continued \u2026"},"links_count":0,"comment_count":63,"created_at":"2014-03-27T00:00:00+00:00","created_at_human":"12 years ago"},"meta":{"processed_at":"2026-05-08 08:54:48","valid_relations":["images","links"],"prev_id":13635,"next_id":13637}}