“Keep going!” Stan hollered over the sound of rapid gunfire, the drudge spraying sparks and chunks of steaming metal everywhere. Moss and Burn ran. They heard more mechanical legs thudding as they moved toward their destination.
“They are programmed not to shoot the towers so that’ll buy us some time when they close,” Burn huffed over his shoulder.
Moss didn’t speak, clutching his pistol in one hand and the chip in the other. The sound of gunfire continued to echo through the space, mixing with Stan’s delighted cheers as he shredded the machines. Another drudge stepped into the lane they were running, and Burn shot a line through its head, cutting the circuitry and causing it to stop mid-motion before it toppled to the ground like a statue being pulled down. They kept moving until they saw it: a pillar in the center of the aisle with monitors and keyboards on three sides. Two drudges awaited them, flanking the pillar.
“Left!” Burn commanded and the two opened fire. Moss fired at the broad chest plate of one, the first two shots blasting through the metal as the next few fried the electronics, blasting the thing back. Burn sliced his but it got shots off, shredding Burn’s shoulder before he dove between some towers. It looked to fire at Moss but could not target him from around the pillar and Burn popped out with his good arm and sliced the thing in two.
Moss approached the tower and moaned as he had to wait as it powered up. Burn stood and approached, having cast his weapon aside and was clutching his blood-soaked shoulder.
“Have to wait,” Moss said nervously, hearing more machines moving in.
“Line’s out of juice,” Burn said, releasing his shoulder and pulling a rifle from his back. “Second you start the upload we make for the door.
“We need to protect the pillar,” Moss said. “Need to make sure it finishes the upload. Don’t want one to come and stop it midstream.”
Burn grimaced. “Shit, right.”
Moss did not want to share his desperate need to get the chip back, to save what was left of his father for himself. He might die, but if he didn’t, he wanted the opportunity to speak to his dad again.
“They’ll know we are here now, so no time to waste.” A welcome screen appeared, and Moss entered his data before flipping open a panel and inserting the chip.
UPLOAD 1% appeared on the screen with a bar filling slowly. Four more drudges appeared and Burn loosed a grenade, clutching his rifle in a weak left hand. The grenade bounced and pistoned toward the robots before exploding, sending metal everywhere and shaking the ground. The screen flickered as Moss ducked but felt warm metal shards pierce his back.
“Fuck!” he screamed as pain coursed through his body and looked up to see 19% was all that had uploaded.
“You’re all right,” Burn announced. “But this is taking too long.”
Moss agreed, wondering how many more waves they could withstand. Three more approached and Moss fired, taking down one but hated at the red flashing battery light on the side of his Kingfisher. With the precision targeting of his eye plate, Burn took down another but not before the third began shooting back.
Bullets whizzed around them, Moss’s vision going white as one passed through his arm and another through his new leg. Burn snarled as he was hit, blood spraying through the back of his duster. He fired back and eviscerated the last drudge before collapsing.
62% Moss read, red liquid pouring down his arm. Burn hobbled closer. He asked, “How you holding up?” Moss could see blood in his mouth.
“Got shot.” Moss panted at a loss for words. He knew he was losing blood, but that Burn was worse.
“Fixing to be our last stand,” Burn said, producing a canister which he sprayed on their wounds.
“Looks that way,” Moss agreed.
They could both hear more drudges approaching, no doubt the ones stationed further in the room. Moss’s eyes flashed to the screen and saw little progress was being made, every percent increase seemed to take an eternity. They reloaded and waited. The spray had helped to stop the bleeding, but he still felt himself fading slightly, like trying to force himself to stay awake with too little sleep.
“I could stay,” Burn offered. “You could run, try to get out with the others.”
“Not sure there are any others,” Moss said, and five more drudges came around a corner. They both opened fire, but Moss felt that this was the end. There were too many and they were too weak now. They blasted two as Moss’s Kingfisher overheated, the plastic beginning to melt, heat radiating through his hand.
He watched the three remaining begin to target and Burn looked over to him, defeat in his eye. The volley was deafening, and Moss simply closed his eyes for impact. But it never came. He opened his eyes to see the three drudges getting blasting with gunfire from behind, their systems trying to turn to face the attack too late.
An explosion rocked them to the ground and Moss saw a pink shimmer fly through the smoke as Ynna landed before them, a rifle smoking in each arm. Blood dripped from a wound in her neck but she looked mostly untouched.
“Charges are nearly set.” She grinned. “Figured I’d check in with you idiots. Looks like I came at the right time.”
“Surly did,” Burn said. He looked on the young woman with pride.
“We have to move,” Ynna told them, gesticulating wildly. They all turned to see 79% and frowned.
“You lot go, I’ll hold them till it’s done,” Burn said, grim determination in his voice. He looked at peace, as though after a lifetime of fighting, he was happy to make his last stand here.
“No!” Moss wailed.
He couldn’t stand it.
He couldn’t lose them both at once. “My dad’s on that chip,” he admitted with a whimper.
“We can’t wait,” Ynna said. “Stan and Judy are clearing a path now. We have to go!”
“You have to go,” Burn clarified. “Say goodbye to me and your dad.”
The words landed on Moss more heavily than any of the wounds he had taken. He needed Burn. He needed his father. Even if he survived, he didn’t think he could live without them. “I can’t,” he said but Ynna was already pulling him to his feet.
“You can. You’ve done us all proud, but now you have to try to live,” Burn said, slumping against the pillar. “I’ll hold them.”
Ynna’s eyes were wet, but she held her composure as Moss looked at his dying friend and the computer which held his father. He wanted to survive but not like this. Mechanical footfalls were moving closer.
“Thank you for everything,” Ynna said to Burn and he smiled.
“You’ve both come a long way. Now get out of here,” Burn sputtered as Ynna passed him a bag of weapons.
“We’ll honor this,” Moss said, determined to make those words true.
“I know you will,” Burn said and nodded to Moss as Ynna pulled him away. He took one final look over his shoulder to see more machines moving in on Burn and the pillar.
Chapter 20
They moved quickly back toward the door through which they had entered but Moss knew he was slowing Ynna down. His shot leg crunched with every step and he knew it was starting to fail.
“The Ferrier’s work is going to waste,” he said, trying to distract himself and Ynna turned a sorrowful face to him.
“We get out of this, he’s going to be getting a lot of business,” she said, the words weak on her lips. The two crushed souls trudged forward. No drudges moved toward them and the sound of explosions and gunfire echoed behind them. “We could have stayed,” Moss said, wanting to turn back.
“This is what he wanted,” Ynna forced through gritted teeth and Moss knew she was right.
At the door, Stan stood waiting, pressing a massive hand over a stump where his left arm had been. He looked wild and tired, blinking in confusion at their approach. His face registered, then dropped.
“Just us then?” he asked pitifully. Blood seeped out between his fingers.
“Just us,” Ynna affirmed, putting a hand on Stan’s cheek and
giving him a little slap.
“Building is locked down and the elevator is our only way out. Judy is working on it now,” Stan informed them. Ynna rummaged in a pocket in her jacket and produced a small canister and length of rolled bandage.
“They’ll be waiting for us,” Moss said, thinking about the elevator doors opening and being blasted off the face of the earth. He didn’t want to have made it this far and lost this much just to be shot dead like a fish in a barrel.
“Truer words,” Stan said as Ynna sprayed his wound and began wrapping him. “I liked that arm.”
“I’m sure Judy did too,” Ynna said with a smile.
“You are not wrong.” Stan smiled back. Moss liked seeing them like this, joking when all seemed lost. It made it all easier, made him feel like maybe they could survive this. Judy rounded the corner.
“Taking care of my man?” Judy asked, striding toward them purposefully.
“What’s left of him,” Ynna answered with a little smile. “We ready? Burn didn’t stay in there for us to lollygag.”
“We’re ready,” Judy said, taking Ynna’s meaning and they all moved to the elevator. As they approached, they saw an unfolded turret facing out toward them. “Whoever’s up there is in for a surprise,” Judy smirked. “We’ll ride on top, take it to the second to last floor, drop out and take the stairs to the roof. Hopefully, we can blast our way out.”
“Sounds good,” Ynna said, looking into the small hole at the top of the elevator. “Moss, you first then give me a hand with Stan.”
“He’s a big fucker,” Judy said as they laced their fingers and hoisted Moss up. He clambered into position and dropped his arms, pulling on Stan’s one arm until he got an elbow inside and pulled himself up. He turned and pulled the other two up as Judy hit the button for the one hundred and twentieth floor. The door shut and the elevator rocketed upward. Moss’s stomach lurched with the movement and he thought about himself in a previous life, being made sick by short rides up and down the burb.
It glided to a halt and the door opened and bullets rattled the structure before the turret opened up, firing a constant barrage of auto-targeted shots. It whirred to a stop once no one was left and Ynna dropped down. They heard a few more shots before she reappeared.
“Clear,” she said.
Seti, Moss thought in a desperate gambit.
Transmission blocked, was all he heard in reply. He was sure the others had tried the same, but now he knew Patchwork was gone and the building was no longer theirs. Burn must already be dead, but hopefully, around the burbs, people were hearing of ThutoCo’s plan. Employees would be rioting—demanding answers and their lives would be safe. They would never know Burn or Moss’s dad, though they would forever live in their debt.
As they dropped down, Ynna told them, “It’s Carcer.” She pointed to the guards.
“The AIC is involved, probably wants more than just BurbSec,” Judy said.
Two more officers were stationed at the door to the stairwell but Ynna and Judy took them out quickly and they opened the door. The hustled up the stairs to the roof door. Judy stopped them a moment, pressing down on a button at the top of a handheld detonator. As high as they were in the building, they still felt the impact as the explosives went off. Tremors shook the structure.
“We did it,” Judy said with a beaming smile. “The people are safe, and the technology is destroyed.”
All the people Moss had known his whole life were safe. He felt a joy which he had never before experienced. They had accomplished something impossible, helped countless people and stopped evil. He thought of his father and how happy he would have been to know what they had done. He was overcome with happiness and pulled the other three into a large hug. Their heads were all pressed together. Through the tears of joy, Moss said, “You are all heroes to the people of ThutoCo.”
“We all are,” Judy corrected, looking to Moss.
“Thank you,” Moss said as they released one another and turned to the exit.
“Blaze of glory?” Stan asked and they all nodded.
He kicked the door open.
They rushed onto the roof, but as Moss pulled his trigger toward the sea of Carcer officers with weapons raised, nothing happened. Stan was able to get two shots off with his revolver, but the electronic guns were jammed by overhead drones.
“Hold your fire!” ordered a man as the two shot were dragged back into the throng. Spotlights from the drones highlighted the four people holding useless weapons in their hands.
This was it.
They were caught.
“Put your hands in the air,” the man ordered them, speaking into a loudspeaker. He was tall, with thicker armor than the usual Carcer officer and the scorpion pincer logo emblazoned on his chest. He had curly black hair and a robust mustache and the superior eyes of someone who had caught their prey.
They all dropped their weapons and raised their hands, knowing their few remaining days would be long and excruciating. The man strode toward them.
“I am warden Ninety-Nine,” he announced. “I have been tasked with bringing you in for questioning.” They said nothing as the officers swarmed around them. “I will begin with an easy one: who is the leader here?” He appraised each one of them. None spoke, knowing the torture would be worse for the self-proclaimed leader. “This is not a hard question,” he said. “So, I ask again. Who is the leader here?”
“I am,” Moss said, standing as tall and proud as he could. He knew what it meant but also knew he had the least information to give them, and if it meant his friends would be hurt even slightly less, he wanted to do this. The Warden cackled—a shrill high-pitched laugh which didn’t match his intimidating voice.
“The former employee! I should have known,” he said. “I guess that means the rest of you are useless to me.” He pulled a pistol and shot Ynna in the gut. She grunted, eyes wide with shock and fell to her knees, clutching at her stomach.
“No!” Moss screamed as Ynna slumped to the roof. Judy and Stan pulled and thrashed against the officers but were tased into submission. The Warden smiled a sickening grin.
“Not willing to pay the price, are we?” he asked. “You think you are so noble, but you are playing at a game you can never win. We own this world and all the people in it. You’ve done nothing. You’ve accomplished nothing. And you will die for nothing.”
“We’ll have died for something,” Moss said, brimming with righteous pride. The man’s face contorted with anger.
“No, you haven’t!” he screamed and stamped his foot.
“We have, and you were not able to stop us until it was too late.” Moss looked to the drones, knowing the AIC was watching. He smiled at them, just before a baton was brought down on his head. He saw white, felt the pain and smelled the blood as it poured down his head. The Warden stepped into his blurred vision.
“I will enjoy your suffering.” He snarled, pressing the bloody baton on Moss’s chin.
Moss blinked in confusion as the man turned. One of the drones exploded overhead. Rockets whistled through the air and the sky was alight with smoke and fire. Moss did not understand what he was seeing. The Carcer officers all turned to fire into the night. Then he saw them: men and woman in suits and tuxedos flying in, firing pristine weapons into the officers. Then more.
Scruffy looking kids with blades dropped off drones. Beat up flighted cars opened doors, tossing grenades and firing rifles, shaking the building like an unworldly earthquake.
The Warden looked down at Moss in rage, raising his arm to strike the final blow. His hand fell away as he swung down, his arm moving uselessly as the cybersaber passed through. He turned and ran amidst the gunfire. Moss turned to see a woman he didn’t recognize holding the blade. She was dressed plainly, with a shaved head and her eyes were two telescoping cylinders which slid in slightly to focus on him.
“They all came,” she said in a familiar Australian accent.
“Seti?” he asked as she helped him to hi
s feet. Grimy blew passed them to help Ynna.
“Yes,” she said as, behind her, Patchwork decapitated one of the remaining Carcer officers with his katana. “When I put the word out that you guys might need help, every group in B.A. City came. It’s hard to get the crews to agree on anything, let alone work together, but they all came.”
“For Burn,” Moss told her.
“For what you’re doing,” Seti said, “and it worked. We got the message out. Even got it on all news stations before D2E got wise and shut it down. It only took a few minutes and all the burbs were in an uproar. ThutoCo was exposed. You guys did it.”
Moss breathed a deep sigh of relief.
One of the officers tried to raise a weapon and was shot in the face by Sir James as he walked over to Moss.
“You must tell that old curmudgeon that it is profoundly rude not to invite his friends to a soirée such as this,” he said, extending a hand. Moss took it.
“Moss,” he said before adding, “but Burn stayed behind.”
“A great dysphoria it brings me to hear this but for a nobler cause he could not have perished,” Sir James said. Behind him, there was a great bustle as all the people who had come to their rescue met and commiserated. The scene was abuzz with excitement and celebration. One crew began stripping he Carcer officers for parts and scraps.
Gibbs and Issy ran over and embraced Moss and he nearly burst to see them. After so much loss and sadness, he still had his best friends. Sir James gave a slight bow and returned to his people.
“We came back,” Issy said, her eyes wet and red but happy.
“Thank you both,” Moss said, pulling them both in close.
“You look like shit,” Gibbs joked, looking him over and seeing burns, bruises, and blood.
Into Neon Page 20
