“She’s no fucking damsel,” Judy said, without the previous harshness.
“Don’t I know it,” Stan said and kissed Judy on the forehead.
“Pain in my ass,” Judy retorted and the two began to kiss, moving quickly to a passion which carried them to a cot.
“Get a room,” Grimy said, holding his hand to his chest in offense.
“This is a room,” Judy said through pressed, wet lips.
“Into the stairwell then,” Burn ordered the couple whose clothes were already beginning to come off. They shuffled awkwardly through the door, no longer focused on anything around them and Stan kicked it closed behind them. “You two ready to hear a plan?”
Gibbs leaned forward laboriously, and Moss said, “Yes.”
“Bring up the display,” Burn said, and the image of the building appeared in the room once more. “Moss, you and Stan will go meet your friend and hope she can get you in without incident. We’re putting a lot of faith in her and if she wants out when all is said and done, we’ll take her. If things go sideways, Stan has orders I hope you’ll understand.” He paused, waiting on Moss.
“I understand,” he said in the way he always did for Mr. Greene.
“Good. Things do turn, Rosetta, Judy and I’ll be standing by with PEA Drones to drop in and lend a hand,” Burn explained.
“Don’t let things turn new guy,” Rosetta said from the desk without turning to look at them. “I don’t really dig firefights.”
Moss’s stomach turned. He had never been responsible for more than keeping a drudge from getting dented and now lives would be depending on him. He nodded nervously.
“Seti will be keeping an eye out but she’s got lots of irons in the fire so Bullet Hole, here.” Burn pointed to Gibbs. “You’ll be watching the live feed and can call ’em as you see ’em.”
“I veto that nickname,” Gibbs said weakly. “But I’m happy to help.”
“Good.” Burn nodded and lit a cigarette, instantly mixing the smell of smoke into that of stale body odor. “Grimy’ll be with you just in case but he’ll duck out if things get hairy.
“Don’t let things get hairy,” Rosetta half-joked, clearly amused by her own repetition.
Burn snorted. “That’s enough.”
“Sorry,” Rosetta said. “I’m getting close here.”
“Tell me,” Burn ordered. Rosetta clicked away for a moment longer and turned.
“I got it decrypted,” she said, turning tired eyes to Moss. “It’s clear your dad did not want this to be figured out by laymen. But I found myself at a password protected portion.”
Gibbs piped up. “Did you try,” and here he put on a low, British accent, “mellon?”
Rosetta chuckled, “cute.”
“That’s enough from the peanut gallery,” Burn said harshly, and Gibbs sank back into the couch.
“It just says ‘goodnight,’” Rosetta said. Moss smiled. His father had left a riddle which only he could solve. For the first time, Moss felt that he had value in the group. It would be him who helped crack this code. It would be him who connected them with Issy so they could free their friend. He now meant more in the world than he ever had.
“Try, Mossy,” he said with pride. His father had always called him that. Even as he aged and begged his dad not to, he always did.
“I did already,” Rosetta said plainly, clearly trying not to sound patronizing. “The computer is also trying millions of word combinations every nanosecond.”
“Oh,” Moss said. He supposed it shouldn’t have been that easy, but he had wanted desperately to get it right on his first try. He thought about his father: tucking him in, kissing him goodnight. More often as Moss got older, his father would open the door to his small part of the hex, standing and looking at his son. Moss would sometimes wake up but wouldn’t say anything. He would simply crack an eye, see his dad, and fall back to sleep.
“You’ll figure it out,” Gibbs said, hearing the disappointment in the voice of his friend.
“You’ve got time,” Burn added. “Just not all that much time.”
Moss plopped down onto one of the couches and thought it over. After a while, Stan and Judy returned, sweaty and stinking of sex. They joined in, trying to workshop the riddle with Moss as the sun began to set. Time passed with Rosetta clicking away at the ancient keyboard and seeing ACCESS DENIED again and again.
“We have to get started,” Burn announced after many fruitless hours and the tone in the room shifted. They produced weapons from tattered steamer trunks, and everyone began getting ready in silence. An undeniable tension seeped into every corner of the small space as they prepared and before too long, Stan turned to Moss.
“Ready?” he asked, seeming to know the answer before he heard it.
“Yes,” Moss answered unconvincingly.
“You’ll be fine,” Burn assured him before whispering something to Stan.
“Don’t get killed,” Judy said to Stan before turning to Moss. “Don’t you get him killed.”
The full weight of the moment landed on Moss’s already terrified and heavy heart. He walked over and knelt by Gibbs.
“You going to be okay, here?” Moss asked.
“Yeah. It’ll be just like when we played Ancient Command in virtual, you know? I’ll be calling out orders from on high and you and Issy will be on the ground getting things done.” Gibbs and Moss smiled at the childhood memory. They had spent so many afternoons playing that game. At twelve years old, they were one of the best teams in the burb. It was the first video game they had played together, and it had bonded them forever. Moss thought back to when, after several rounds of the game, their small band of hardened digital soldiers trounced an army five times their size. The defeated sixteen-year-olds spent the next week trying to figure out who had defeated them. Moss, Gibbs, and Issy hiding from the wrath of the older children.
“It’s just like that.” Moss smiled. He began to whisper, “Issy knew everything. She knew all about all of this.”
“She always knew everything, Moss,” Gibbs said with a knowing smirk and Moss was disappointed that Gibbs was not surprised.
“We can trust her, right?” Moss asked, stealing a glance over his shoulder to Judy.
“If there is anyone in this world you can trust, it’s Issy,” Gibbs said without hesitation.
“Why didn’t she tell me?” Moss asked. A mixture of heartbreak and anger welled up in him as he thought about it.
“Same reason you didn’t want me to come: a misguided attempt at protection,” Gibbs said.
“I wasn’t wrong, you did get shot,” Moss argued kindly.
“So, you keep saying.” Gibbs smirked. “If it weren’t for the blood loss, I’d already be back on my feet. And anyway, chicks dig scars.”
Moss grabbed his friend’s hand, once again grateful that he had offered to come. “I’ll see you soon,” Moss said.
“I’ll see you on the other side of the war,” Gibbs sing-songed.
“I wish I could do that,” Moss said.
“What?”
“Stay so calm in spite of everything,” he explained.
“It’s a gift,” Gibbs joked.
“I just feel like I have so much to learn. I didn’t prepare for this at all. I don’t know how I could have. I mean, I probably just wasn’t ready, but now I feel like I’m going to be playing catch-up forever,” Moss said.
“You’ll get there,” his friend assured him. “They will help you.”
Moss looked around the room. He knew there was so much he could glean from all of them, so much they could impart to him. He nodded and stood. “Thanks, Gibbs,” he said. “Let’s do this.”
Sitting with Stan in the cab, slowly flying back toward the burbs, Moss watched the rain streak the windows once more. The seat shifted underneath him as he bounced his knee nervously.
“It feels like a million years,” he said, turning to look at Stan who was staring out his window.
“Since you
left?” Stan asked, his breath fogging the window with each word.
“Yes,” Moss said.
“I’m sure it does,” Stan said. “Make you wish we had never come into your life?”
Moss was surprised that he didn’t have to think about the question. “No,” he said. “I’m happy you did. I’ve been confused and terrified since the moment Ynna knocked on my door. I’ve come to realize much of what I thought my life had been was a lie and come to know that my family were not the people I thought I knew. But, despite everything, I’m actually happy. In some way, this feels more like the life I was supposed to live.”
“It is,” Stan said. He seemed more absent than Moss was used to. In a short time, he had become accustomed to Stan’s gregarious energy but now, he seemed distracted.
“Everything all right?” Moss asked, causing Stan to blink hard and turn.
“Yes,” he lied.
“I mean, I know we only just met, but—” he began but Stan cut him off.
“It’s not that,” he said. “It’s my pregame ritual. Right before a mission, I think about everything that could go wrong. But also, everything that can go right. Try to think about every eventuality, possibility. Coaches always tried to instill that in us, but your grandma helped to teach me to look at the whole board, you know?”
“Yeah,” Moss replied. “You miss it? Sports I mean?”
Stan worried at some crust on his pant leg. “Not really. I was never in it for the fame or nothin’. I loved the sport and being part of a team, and though the sport has changed, I’m on a pretty great team now.”
Moss cocked an eyebrow, “No part of you was in it for the fame?” Stan chuckled.
“I’m not saying I hated it.” He winked, sounding more like himself. “First time’s the hardest.”
“Nice thing is, if I botch it, I’ll be dead and won’t care so much,” he said.
“Could be captured,” Stan noted. Moss’s hands went numb. The thought of being killed scared him but the idea of being captured, tortured and questioned about something he did not fully understand terrified him much more. He had tried to rationalize all of this, make it seem like some abstract or not real event. But as the burbs grew closer outside the window the reality of what he was doing was undeniable. Fear began to grip him as he felt his heart rate and breathing quicken.
A massive hand landed on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine,” Stan said and as Moss looked up, something in Stans’ eyes made him feel like the words were true. Moss breathed in deeply just before the first-generation cab they had hired shuddered and began to drop to the landing pad.
It hissed to the ground, vibrating and jerking as it landed. The door clanged open and they stepped out. As he put his foot to the ground, Moss realized that he hadn’t been made sick by the descent.
“I will be fine,” he told Stan.
The landing pads were on a raised platform off the side of the Forum, a place which served as a meeting spot between the burbs where friends could eat and shop and feel as though they had left home without the discomfort of actually doing so. A large plaza of decorative marble with a fountain and holo-projected trees was flanked on all sides by restaurants, cafes, boutique shops, and travel agencies. Relief Aids stood like statues outside the bars, ready for rental by inebriated employees.
“Know where we can meet your friend?” Stan asked.
“Yeah,” Moss said, pointing to Naan Scents Restaurant. Issy had invited Moss to join her family there for dinner on occasion and, though he had never taken her up on the offer, he figured she would be there. They made their way to the restaurant as the smells of spices and curry filled their nostrils. The scent instantly brought back memories of eating dinners Vihaan cooked for them in his hex.
“We may live here now, but it’s important to remember where you come from. These are the tastes of your home, though you may never go there,” he had told his daughter before setting the plates in front of them, and though Moss had infrequently joined them for dinner, the smell in the Forum made him feel that he was home.
Issy waved to them from the window, a half-eaten plate of biryani set before her. Confusion coursed through him as he looked at her. Her jet-black hair pulled into a bun, beautiful brown skin showing from under her armor and bright chestnut eyes smiling at him. His heart began to race once more, though this time not for fear of what lay ahead.
“I get it now,” Stan half mocked.
“You saw her before,” Moss reminded him.
“It’s different in person,” Stan told him. He was right. Though it had only been two days, she again now stirred him up. She stood as they entered and sprang into his arms, her armor clattering. She stepped back and looked him in the eyes.
“Are you all right?” she asked as though they had been parted for years.
“I am,” Moss said. “You?”
“I’m fine. How did you take the news? How did you find out? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” She looked so apologetic Moss could hardly stand it.
“I found out from the person we are here to help,” Moss explained. “And I’m fine. It’s okay that you didn’t tell me, I know you were doing what you thought was best. How much do you know about them?”
Stan cleared his throat loudly and the two turned. Issy nodded.
“Kunil, turn the music up and stir a pot,” Issy instructed the middle-aged man with thinning hair behind the counter. He hurriedly followed the command and disappeared into the kitchen. The room became filled with synthesized sitar and a woman singing slowly. Moss had never heard Issy act as a BurbSec officer before and was impressed by the effect.
“Who’s your friend?” Issy asked.
“Stan,” Moss introduced as the large man intentionally loomed over her.
“Issy,” she said, extending a hand and smiling in a way which indicated that she was unimpressed by his attempt to intimidate her.
“Ferocious Stan,” he corrected in a tone more threatening than friendly. Issy wrinkled her nose at Moss almost imperceptibly as they shook.
“We can talk here?” Stan clarified, looking suspiciously around the room.
“Yes,” Issy answered. “Family friend and I’m off duty.”
“Good,” Stan said.
“What do you boys need from me?” she asked, forgoing small talk. Stan opened his mouth to speak but Moss beat him to it.
“Is, before we begin you need to understand something,” he said, and both stared at him in shock.
“Yeah?” Issy said.
“This is a big ask. You help us now, you may be giving up your whole life,” he told her.
“Oh,” she said sullenly, looking down and shifting one foot thoughtfully.
“She helps us, Burn says we can take her on,” Stan announced to Moss. Then he turned to Issy. “Sorry,” he corrected. “You help, you can come with us.”
“Thank you,” she said, not looking up. Moss could hear the internal struggle in two short words and worried as to what she, and Stan, were thinking at the moment. Leaving had been hard for him though he left little behind except for comfort. It would be much different for Issy.
“You can say no,” Moss offered, and she turned eyes so sad upon him that he nearly demanded she went back to her hex.
“I’ll help,” she said. “For you.” Moss did not know what to make of that. “I left you in the dark for so long,” she said by way of justification though Moss did not know if the words were for him or for herself.
“You don’t have to,” he told her. “You could just… just, walk away.”
She thought on his words as Stan shifted with impatience under the bright, fluorescent lights.
“I’ll help,” she announced once more. “What do you need?”
“Can you get us into the Carcer Corp facility where they transfer prisoners from BurbSec?” Moss asked.
“Yeah,” she answered. “I know there has been activity, it’s what everyone is talking about since the lockdown.”
“
You have access to the cells?” Stan inquired.
“Sure, I have to be able to put people there myself,” she explained. “Though I never have.”
“It’s all traceable,” Stan reminded her unnecessarily. “Once we are inside, we’ll deal with the Carcer guards.”
“When you say, ‘deal with?’” Issy asked.
“I mean deal with,” Stan intoned in such a way as to leave no doubt. Issy nodded her understanding. “Gonna finish that?” Stan asked, pointing to the plate of spiced rice.
“What? No,” Issy answered, nonplussed. She pushed the plate of food to Stan and handed him the fork which he took graciously.
“Energy, man,” Stan said to Moss as he sat. “Split it?”
“No,” Moss answered, too struck by the shift to say anything else. Stan sat and worked at the food voraciously.
“Safe to say your life has changed,” Issy joked nervously, rubbing a piece of sleeve which stuck out from under the wrist of her armor between her thumb and forefinger.
“You are not wrong,” Moss said, wearing a weak smile. He could not even begin to tell her how much his life had changed.
“Where’s Gibbs?” she asked. “He came with you, right?”
“I’ll tell you later.” The guilt hung on every word.
Chapter 12
They strode through the Forum, a BurbSec officer and two obvious city dwellers turning more than a few heads. Issy led them to a corridor between two buildings as Stan snickered.
“What?” Moss asked.
“You catch the name of that bar?” Stan smirked.
“Lewd and lascivious,” Moss answered.
“Yeah.” Stan laughed. “A sports bar with girls in hot pants dancing on the tables. You fucking bubs don’t even know the meaning of lewd and lascivious.”
Having seen the Long-Legged Spinners, even from the outside, Moss had to agree and began to speak before Issy hissed, “will you two hush up!”
They approached a concrete pillbox with the BurbSec seal painted on a thick metal door. Entry Code Six Ten, Moss heard her command in his mind and the barcode on her name tag was scanned before the door hissed open.
Into Neon Page 11
