by C. G. Hatton
Genie stopped.
She stopped and turned, held me tight in both arms.
I stared at her, our faces close, nose to nose.
Shivering.
“Felix,” she said, steely eyed, “you saved my mother’s life. I saw what you did. And do not tell me that this…” She reached her hand to my chest without touching. “…is nothing.”
Her eyes bored into mine, grounding me, bringing me back. We were on Winter and it was just a tab.
“Now suck it up, Fe,” she murmured, “and keep moving, because I am not going to let you die down here.”
She led us out onto a balcony high above a crowded concourse. I tried to protest but I was pretty much on autopilot, just trying to keep upright as the lights and sounds of Winter’s lower levels, neon flashes and the loud thump of bass, burst out around us, as if nothing was going on above.
Every instinct I had was screaming at me to turn and run a mile.
“Genie, no, wait…”
She didn’t look at me, just stepped forward, with that strong-willed determination and confidence she had glowing like an aura around her. “You need medical attention, Felix.”
“This isn’t…”
She pulled me close and hissed in my ear, “This is the red-light district. There are doctors.”
“I thought you’d never been down here.”
“I haven’t. Doesn’t mean I don’t know what goes on.” She rolled her eyes at me. “My mother sends aid packages.”
You know how I said these rich kids were trained, honed for their future responsibilities…?
“She sends aid to all our colonies,” Genie whispered as she helped me along a dark walkway that looked like it was leading into a ghetto. “Food, medicine…”
Weapons to arm a resistance force fighting against the Empire…
I kept my mouth shut and just walked.
Concrete walls closed in. The graffiti was artistic, lit by overhead spotlights that sent our shadows creeping ahead of us. I should have turned and run but I was trying to just breathe.
The walkway led into a building, floor upon floor of jam-packed housing, decaying corridors that smelled of urine and mould. At least it was warm. I think. I was still shivering.
We hit a dead end and had to backtrack. I was leaning heavily on Genie by the time we found another set of stairs, dropping down to the main concourse where the music was louder. We waited, watching for a moment, then slipped into an alleyway between two buildings that was stacked with boxes, rubbish, crates overflowing with empty bottles.
I couldn’t resist and muttered, “Nice place your mom funds…”
Genie threw me a withering glance and said under her breath, “I’ve never been to your lovely favelas either but I’m sure I know what goes on there too…”
I bit back a smile. I was getting slower, each step getting harder. Somewhere along here there’d be a cosy den where we could hole up and I could hack into a comm stream.
If there was, we didn’t make it.
There was a faint sound behind us. A footstep, just a slight scuff against the floor.
I breathed, “Run,” and dredged up the energy from somewhere to move, stumbling over broken bottles, Genie dragging me forwards. The footsteps behind turned into a pounding beat, following us. We hit a T-junction at the far end of the alley and I let Genie steer me left. Dark figures moved up ahead. She cursed, spun, pulling me with her, urging me to go faster, and we ran in the opposite direction. Into a dead end.
I dropped to a limping stagger, and stopped, doubled over, coughing. Breathing laboured. I could taste blood.
If I flaked out now, we were done.
Genie still had hold of me round the waist and we turned as a figure stepped out of the shadows behind us. Not corporate. Not security. Big guy. Ex-military or militia by the look of him, dirty combat jacket open, showing a gun in a holster on his belt, the metal housing glinting red in the light of a blinking neon strip light.
“Well, lookey here,” he said, his voice a rough growl. “Seems like we’ve caught ourselves a prize…”
I forced myself to stand up straight, bracing myself, shutting out the pain and getting focus from somewhere, taking a half step away from Genie’s side and trying to work out the angles.
Genie stepped forward. She was pure composure, her voice low but commanding. “You want money? There’s a reward out for our safe return. Fifty thousand each. I’m sure you know the details. I’ll double that if you help us and take us where I want to go.”
Two hundred thousand?
The guy laughed, deep and throaty. “Triple it and you might have a deal.”
Genie didn’t flinch. “Done.”
Money talks. I always knew that. I just didn’t realise how loud.
I still didn’t like it.
From the way she was standing, Genie didn’t either but I hadn’t given her much choice. I was trying to look out for her and she was trying to look out for me. That never works. Me and Hil, we found that out the hard way not long after.
Three figures moved up behind the main guy, spreading out on either side, a sound that had to be a vehicle pulling up into the end of the alley.
There was no way out. But there was half a chance this could work.
I kept calm and edged another step or two away from Genie to close down the distance and get a line on this guy. In case it didn’t.
“Problem is, sweetheart,” he leered.
And there it was…
“Someone else already offered us half a mill.”
Shit.
“But nice try.” He grinned and turned to me. “And you, we saw exactly what you’re capable of on those vid streams. Let’s not have any of that nonsense down here, shall we?”
Half a mill. It had to be McIntyre.
I reckoned I could take all four of them.
And they knew it.
They weren’t stupid and came at us all together. I shoved Genie away from me and turned on the closest, letting every instinct of the training programmed into us by Spearhead take over. I blocked the fist the first guy thrust at me and countered with a right hook, hard and precise, turning and ducking, dropping my shoulder to throw another that was trying to grab me from behind. All pain and tension evaporated, the movements automatic. I spun and jumped, landing a kick in the third guy’s face. Blood spurted. He staggered back, cursing and spluttering red, and coming at me again as I landed with perfect balance and moved around. I was about to floor him when a quiet voice called out behind me.
“Felix…”
I caught myself, turning to see Genie, the big guy behind her and his gun pressed against her neck. I stopped. Hesitation kills. Charlie had always said that. You freeze, you die.
Worse than that, I’d turned my back on Mr Broken Nose.
It just took one punch to my ribs, right where the gun shot wound was still bleeding, and my knees went.
I hit the floor. I curled up but they kicked me in the head.
And dense black nothing closed in fast.
I was only vaguely aware of the vehicle pulling up, doors opening, someone shouting that they needed us alive and Genie in amongst it, yelling at them to stop. Someone dragged me up. I tried to get my feet under me but nothing was working. I’d just about got my balance when three unmistakably silenced pops sounded out. The grip on my arms vanished, bodies crashing to the ground around me. I crumpled, the floor coming up fast and hard, again.
Another two pops rang out.
I lay there trying to figure out if I could move. It was quiet but for the crackling hiss of the broken light and a distant thump of music and voices.
Footsteps crunched on glass shards right by my head and someone muttered, close by, harsh, “Jesus Christ, help me get him in the van.”
I tried and failed to resist as someone grabbed my arm.
The guild had been looking for McIntyre for two years. If the half a million was his, it looked like Genie had found us a fast way righ
t to him.
Chapter 19
The vehicle moved fast, braking hard, hurtling around corners. I lay curled up, trying to keep a grip on my senses and gather some kind of control, someone I assumed from the perfume I could smell to be Genie holding me tight. At one point, the van skidded to a halt and someone shouted back, “You know how to use one of these?”
Genie said something I missed and the next instant there was a tearing sound, that should have given it away, but I still wasn’t ready for the burning heat that lanced into my chest. I think I cried out, flinching away, eyes watering, trying to breathe through it. I hadn’t had the pleasure of a trauma patch since my first encounter with one, lying in the torrential rain of a desert storm with a stab wound in my stomach. I’d forgotten how bad they are but it got numb fast and I managed to roll onto my back and blink open my eyes to see racks of machinery and medical equipment crammed into the small space, engine noise loud and rumbling through the rail that was keeping me in place.
Genie was right next to me, her face close, pale, glancing away as the vehicle started moving again.
“Keep him alive, honey,” the voice shouted, a woman, hard-edged accent, “I want my two mill.”
A sting hit my neck.
“You found your street doc?” I mumbled.
Genie nodded and breathed, “She found us.” She placed her hand on my cheek, staring at me as if she was willing me to be okay.
“You offered her two mill?” My voice was coarse, the words blurring already as the drugs flooded into my bloodstream.
Genie leaned closer, bracing herself to keep me steady as we turned another corner and accelerated, and whispering, “Fraid so. How much allowance do you get, Fe?”
I almost laughed but she popped another shot into my neck and my eyelids got heavy, fast. I gave in to it. Sienna would find us. And we’d find McIntyre. And this time we wouldn’t let him get away.
I think I dreamed about Kheris. Kheris before. When we used to play out in the bombed-out streets and Latia gave us lemonade, the cheap soda kind that wasn’t made with real lemons. When Benjie was teaching me stuff. When Maisie used to smile at me… When everything was okay. Before the ship crashed and the city burned…
I could have stayed there forever.
Waking wasn’t so peaceful. I lurched upright, bumping my head on something above me, a scream caught in my throat, heart pounding, breathing painful, wrist catching against a restraint.
I wasn’t in the vehicle. We weren’t moving.
I sagged back down. My right arm was trailing an IV line, shackled to a bunk that looked like it was one in a rack, another bunk above me, equipment blinking all around. I was still fully dressed, except my jacket was gone, shirt open, a bandage wrapped around my chest over what felt like a fresh trauma patch, warm and numb all around my ribs. But my left arm was hurting, really hurting, nothing but a pressure bandage on it.
It was quiet.
For all the mish-mash of tech in there, there were also candles flickering in cubby holes, a scent like incense in the air.
Feathers and crystals glinted in the candlelight, strung on lines of beads and charms that hung from the bunk above, creating a kind of wacky curtain between me and the room.
I wasn’t sure I wasn’t hallucinating. I’d had enough pain meds before to know I was juiced up to the eyeballs.
I fumbled to tug out the IV, my left hand shaking like it didn’t belong to me.
“Would you like some help?”
I had to concentrate to focus beyond the beads.
Genie was sitting across from me, on the floor, knees tucked up tight, her white silk dress smeared with red, bare feet bandaged. She’d been running around the whole time with bare feet, across broken glass, and she hadn’t said a word. And I hadn’t thought to notice.
I rattled my wrist. “Are we prisoners?” My throat felt thick. Sore.
Genie got to her feet and padded across to me, leaning in and making the curtain of crystals clink and shimmer, a soft chime tinkling from somewhere. “She said it was for the best.” She was keeping her voice quiet, as if she didn’t want to be heard. “There’s already been two different sets of visitors who were demanding to know if she’d seen us.”
Visitors?
“She said to stay in here and keep quiet.” Genie reached her hand to mine, the one that was cuffed to the bunk, hesitating to touch me. “I think she’ll help us.”
I muttered, “We can’t trust her. We can’t trust anyone,” and summoned enough concentration from somewhere to look at the restraint, having to blink to focus. It was just a plasticuff, pulled tight, nothing elaborate. I twisted my shoulder, manoeuvred my hand just right and tugged it free.
We needed to get out of there.
I rolled onto my side, getting up onto one elbow, trying to figure out if I could move. I was shaky but mostly numb.
Genie was staring at me.
I squinted at her. “What?”
“You let Aki and his friends beat you up.”
It wasn’t a question.
It felt like a small tug on a string that could unravel my whole soul.
I stared back at her.
“I just watched you take down trained militia, armed militia, Fe, and you did it easily, even though you’ve been shot, for f…” She bit back the curse as if she was steeling herself to confront me. “You could have floored Aki and every one of his friends that day.”
I swallowed past a lump in my throat. “I would have got expelled.”
Her expression softened, a small smile creeping across her features that were beautiful even though she had a smear of blood on her cheek and dirt in her hair. “You did get expelled.”
The whole universe revolved around us, slow motion. She was seeing through the façade and I should have closed down and shoved her away but I was transfixed, I couldn’t break free.
I could have stared at her for hours but we had to go. “Help me up. We can’t stay here.”
“She said you need to be careful. You have fractured ribs.”
“I don’t care. We can’t stay.” I swung my legs around and got up, banging my head again and pushing past the beads and charms, to stand, holding onto the rack of bunks as my balance threatened to go. Whatever the street doc had done, it had helped. I was breathing okay again. And the trauma patch taped to my chest was hugging a steady dose of warmth into me. I was fine.
I stumbled across to a set of metal drawers and cupboards, dinks in them as if they’d been pulled from a vehicle that had been shot to pieces, and started rifling through them. There were shelves on the wall behind, lined with bottles and jars, dusty faded labels and what looked like twigs and all sorts of crap inside them. I swear, some of them looked like they contained bones, others fragments of artillery casings, chunks of rock, powdered stuff that could have been anything.
It was weird.
Genie was watching over my shoulder, peering closer. I threw her a glance and a shrug, and concentrated on the drawers of more familiar medical kit, pulling out a couple of patches and stuffing a handful of injectors into my pocket without looking too closely at any of them. Anything to keep going long enough to get to Sienna and go after McIntyre.
“Fe, we can’t just…”
I ignored her, pulled out the gold cufflinks and placed them on top of the drawers. “That’ll be payment enough. And she took the casing off my arm. I bet the tech in that is worth more than…”
“Fe.”
Something in her voice made me stop. I turned and saw a woman standing in the open doorway, leaning against the frame, arms folded, a kit bag at her feet and a shit-eating grin on her face. She looked like she’d seen frontline action somewhere, years of frontline action. Worn combat gear, a scar that cut across the corner of one eye, head shaved, black tattoos around her ears, and a tattered medic band around her arm. The pistol on her belt was Wintran, a combat knife in a sheath on her thigh.
She didn’t say a word, pierced me with a stare,
the grin getting even bigger, and walked forward, ignoring Genie and coming to stand close, towering over me and looking like she could flatten me with one push. “The casing had a tracker in it.” Her voice was rough, not just the accent, a nasty-looking tangle of old scars cutting across her throat. She reached for the cufflinks without taking her eyes off me, and leaned in close. “How do you think you were picked up so easily? And Wintran kit? I’m guessing it wasn’t your family that was keeping tabs on you.”
She said ‘your family’ with disgust, like she’d judged me because I was from the other side of the line. Or because they had money. I didn’t care. It wasn’t me and I just wanted out.
I stood my ground, standing up to her without reacting, half expecting her to grab me and wrestle me back to the bunk, but she just gave a harsh laugh and turned away. Turned her back on me, that’s how much of a threat she had me down for.
She glanced at the bunk as she walked out, at the intact plasticuff hanging from the rail. “Nice escape trick,” she said without turning around. “Help yourself to whatever you want, children. And get the hell out of those fancy clothes. Fast as you can. We’re leaving.” She kicked the kit bag towards us and closed the door behind her.
Genie turned to me, wide-eyed. “What do we do?”
“We get out of here.” I was watching, listening to see if the woman locked the door.
She didn’t. She opened it again and stuck her head around.
“And if you’re thinking of doing a runner, Felix…” She peered at me with that wolfish grin as she said my name, exaggerating the way she said it. “Don’t. You offered me two mill? I can tell you now someone is offering five. Five mill for the two of you. Alive. And I can also tell you that it isn’t your damned rich families wanting you back.”
We both stood there. I glanced at Genie, not sure what she’d do but she just held herself, calm and composed, as if calculating consequences.
The woman laughed. “I’m just waiting for the highest bidder. Couple of good-looking youngsters like you… you’ll be off world faster than you can blink, just another tragic drop in UM’s dire ocean of misery. And you…” She gave me that intense look again. “I don’t know what the hell you’re doing here in Winter, but I’m getting a lot of interest in you. Must be the green eyes. Don’t see many green eyes out here.” She laughed again, short and sharp. “So what I’m saying is don’t think of trying to run. Other folks might not be so frikking nice as me. Now get changed.”
