by K. F. Breene
“They must have some other way to track this craft,” Ryker said, his hands moving rapidly. “I see that you disguised the signal, but—”
“I didn’t change the recognition plates. Damn it!” Millicent slapped the wall.
“What does that mean?” Mr. McAllister raised his hands, facing the window. “Are these windows bulletproof?”
“It means that the cameras could identify us. Like face-recognition software, but for personal transport.” She shoved Ryker. “We’re just going to have to resort to plan B. And yes, this craft is mostly bulletproof.”
“What’s plan B?” Ryker asked.
Millicent didn’t have time to answer. The vessel jolted and then tipped, spilling Mr. McAllister and Millicent to the floor. It yanked back up, making Millicent bounce. Ryker took two steps to the front and banged the partition button with his fist. The gray partition slipped into the wall, revealing an assortment of buttons and lights on the dash. A leather chair hulked in front of a steering column and a throttle. “They really looked after you, princess. This is a mighty fine machine.”
“They didn’t look after me, they slammed me into a gilded cage.” Millicent climbed to her feet. “And plan B is doing what I do best—cutting out their tech and then blasting them out of the sky.” Millicent braced herself as she accessed the weapons bay. “I am in the major defense systems department after all. I wouldn’t represent my department very well if I allowed something as trite as the local security enforcement to hold me down.”
“Attagirl.” Ryker slipped into the seat. “Strap Marie in. It’s about to get real.”
“Put your vessel online and prepare for entry,” the voice boomed again.
“How are you going to cut out their tech?” Mr. McAllister asked, rising on obviously wobbly legs. His hands were still in the air. “And what do you mean mostly bulletproof?”
“I may be in weapons, but I’m also an expert with systems. If there was a Holy Divine of vessels, this would be it. Hold on to your wits. We’re about to show our hand.” Millicent logged on.
Immediately a voice sounded within the cabin, “Please cease all activities, miss. The local security enforcement would like a word with you.”
“What a lovely helper,” Ryker said. “I’m ready when you are, Millie.”
“We don’t need to be on manual,” she yelled up front.
“I beg your pardon, miss?” the computer said.
“Humor me,” Ryker said. “Now bring out the big guns.”
Millicent sliced through the conglomerate’s efforts to get the vessel back online, unraveled their restrictive code, and accessed their mainframe. All the security vessels were online except one, and that one was directly above them, outside the reach of Millicent’s weapons.
“How could you possibly have known the crafts weren’t all online?” she yelled up to Ryker.
“Mr. Hunt and I were trained in the same place. Does the mostly bulletproof include shock shells?”
“No. But this does.” Millicent typed, “START unleash_hell.exe,” then hit “Execute.”
A wave of concussion smacked into the neighboring crafts. The moan of hydraulics through Millicent’s craft announced the smart guns extending from the base.
“Cease and desist,” they heard over the loudspeaker.
“I have been asked to tell you that you are under arrest, miss,” the computer said. “I do so apologize.”
“Very lovely,” Ryker said, swinging the vessel around. Millicent held on to a rail, barely stopping herself from spilling onto the floor again. “There we go. Wow. Look at you! Quite an arsenal.”
“You have access up there. Shoot them out of the sky,” Millicent yelled, back at the console. “I’m about to send another concussion. It’ll fry their guided controls, forcing them to go to manual. You need to blast holes in them before I cut their electrical power. Make it so they can’t use the fossil fuel reserves to chase us when they get back online.”
“Woo-wee. Mr. Hunt doesn’t have a Ms. Foster on his side. I could get used to this.”
“He might be a little too gleeful in the face of immediate death,” Mr. McAllister muttered. “That wasn’t properly relayed in his file.”
“Cease and desist,” they heard again.
Another pulse rocketed out from Millicent’s craft, bigger this time. Harder.
Like boats in a squall, the security vessels rocked and jolted. Through the windows, Millicent watched as the men and women inside them were thrown to the ground.
A rattle of explosives sounded before streams of fire left the vessel. Dents and then holes opened up at the base of the security crafts. Smoke filled the sky.
“Go, princess. Go, go, go!” Ryker yelled. The craft dipped as a gun extended from one of the security vessels. “They’ve been given the order to take us down. Hit ’em now!”
“Got it.” After Millicent executed the next program, she leaned to look out the window. The lights on the other crafts flickered. Another round of furious fire blasted from her vessel. And then the glow of security crafts cut out. Like stones, they dropped from the sky.
“I do not like knowing these things can so easily lose hovering ability,” Mr. McAllister said in a thick tone. He rose up in his seat, clearly trying to get a better look out the window.
“Not easy. We just have a genius aboard. Now for Mr. Hunt. Hang on.” Ryker’s hands flew across the controls before gripping the wheel.
“Three geniuses, actually.” Mr. McAllister gripped the seat tightly. Marie, next to him, clutched Bunny and dug her face into his fur.
The craft lurched forward. Millicent slammed against the wall before sliding. She fell across the seat.
“Are you running?” she asked Ryker, struggling to right herself.
“Yes. He would expect me to turn and fight. So I’m leading him on a chase.”
“I would expect you to turn and fight,” Mr. McAllister said through clenched teeth. “Why didn’t his craft fall?”
“I don’t know,” Millicent said, strapping herself in and palming the console to the hologram. “It should’ve.”
“He was already on fossil fuel. Clearly he knows what you’re capable of. He paid attention when he was guarding you.” Ryker’s big body leaned right. The craft tilted dangerously. A horn blared as a vessel passed by the window.
“Oh shi—” Mr. McAllister closed his eyes and snatched Marie’s hand. “It’ll be okay, Marie. Just hang on. He knows what he’s doing.”
“One would hope,” Millicent muttered, pulling up the rear camera. “He’s gaining!” A flat gray vessel inched toward them. In the window sat a stoic Mr. Hunt, his face the normal mask of severity and his movements easy and precise.
“He’s got a faster vessel, the weasel. Who’d he blow to get that?” Ryker leaned left. The corner of a building sailed five meters from the window.
“I can see their faces. Oh Holy Divine, I just saw their faces through the window. We’re too close to the buildings.” Mr. McAllister squeezed his eyes shut.
“I got this.” Ryker leaned right. And then forward.
With a sickening lurch, they dived. The craft shook as it cut through the exhaust of a passing vessel. Another craft sped toward them. A honk, then a few more, drowned out the sound of the whining motor.
“You got anything that can pierce his armor?” Ryker called back.
The vessel tilted horribly, still pointed straight down, cutting through the travel ways.
Millicent’s stomach rolled. The strap dug painfully into her hips. Somehow she kept her fingers moving. She kept blocking the attempts from the conglomerate to control her vehicle as she worked through her arsenal for the best rear gun. “I got something. How long until we hit the ground?”
“You got a couple minutes before we reach the cheaper crafts. They don’t dodge debris as quickly,” Ryker yelled back.
“He’s referring to us as debris. This can’t end well.” Mr. McAllister made a circle around his chest. Mi
llicent had no idea what organized religion that stemmed from.
“Put your big-boy pants on, Mr. McAllister,” Millicent muttered as she chose something that would blow the side out of Mr. Hunt’s craft. “Because we’re not done yet.”
“I’m going to wet my big-boy pants, actually,” Mr. McAllister whined. “I hope this suit absorbs bodily fluid like it’s supposed to.”
“Prepare to brake,” Millicent yelled. “I’m about to unleash a lot of firepower.”
“Braking is for wimps!” Ryker’s tone still sounded gleeful.
Millicent executed the weapon. Thunder rolled through the floor before a blast shook them. They surged forward even faster. A horn sounded right before a loud metallic scrape screeched up the right side of the craft. Ryker swore, but Millicent didn’t take her eyes off the image behind her. The cartridge punched through the lower right of Mr. Hunt’s vessel, distorting the metal and exposing the guts of the craft. Sparks shot out before a black streak of smoke twisted away from the gaping hole.
Millicent could barely make out Mr. Hunt’s eyes widening and his mouth gaping before the craft banked hard right. The nose crashed into a building. Glass flew out in an eruption before a ball of fire spit into the travel way. The craft fell away and then teetered, lowering like a feather falling off a bird.
“I don’t think I killed him.” Millicent half swallowed the words as her vehicle swung left so fast it felt like her stomach fell out of her body and rolled around on the ground. The world crushed down on her as they swooped up, now climbing into the sky.
Childlike laughter competed with Mr. McAllister’s screaming.
“Definitely her father’s daughter,” Millicent said, gripping the seat.
Like flicking a switch, all her organs were returned to her. At least, that’s what it felt like when the craft pulled into the shadow of a building and idled. The dull light of the morning illuminated the gray overhead. Rain sprinkled down onto the glass windows. Heavy panting drifted through the now-quiet vessel.
“Okay.” Ryker stood easily and walked toward them, acting like they hadn’t just barely evaded death. “Get us offline. And then we need to steal a vessel.”
Millicent, shaking with all the adrenaline pumping through her blood, took a deep breath. “I’ll make sure the cameras can’t recognize us. And it looks like the factory installed some sort of beacon in this thing. They really wanted to keep track of me. But just like everything else, it can be worked around.”
“Until they hire that other staffer,” Mr. McAllister said. He wiped the sweat off his brow, which was worryingly pale, and then wiped his glistening fingers on his pants.
“Sweating problem, huh?” Ryker covered Mr. McAllister’s shoulder in heavy pats. “You made it. You’re alive.” He then brushed Marie’s hair from her face. “How about you, little lady? Okay?”
“Yes, Daddy.” She smiled.
“Okay. And how’s Mommy?” Ryker looked Millicent over.
She sighed and sat back before shutting off the hologram. “Tired. Mr. Hunt is . . . tenacious.”
“Yes.” Ryker bent before running his fingers down the side of her face. “You’re getting used to my touch. Won’t be long now.”
“Get”—she slapped his hand away—“off.”
“They also failed to document just how sexual Mr. Gunner is,” Mr. McAllister said, frowning.
“I’m in the presence of a beautiful woman.” Ryker stretched, the muscles flaring down his sides. “What else am I supposed to think about?”
“Oh, I don’t know, survival?” Mr. McAllister unbuckled himself and stood. He staggered across the aisle before bracing on the wall. “Can you give me back, now? I’m not cut out for this.”
Ryker ignored him and looked at Millicent. “If you took out the last of the tracking on this vessel—and you’re sure—do we still need to switch it out?”
“I have it covered until, like Mr. McAllister said, that other staffer is put on my tail,” Millicent responded. “After that chase through the city, I bet that happens sooner rather than later.”
“That’s what I was thinking.” Ryker glanced out the window. “What about their checkpoints leading out of the city? What will they find when they scan this vessel?”
“They’ll find a craft about to be stripped down for parts because the electrical infrastructure is toast. I have a feeling that’ll match the look of the outside. I doubt anyone in the lower-paid brackets will question the computers. The Curve huggers won’t think the system can be hacked. If they physically look in here, though . . .”
Ryker shrugged. “They’ll die, and then we’ll have another shoot-out. They won’t be able to properly arm themselves against this rig in just a couple hours. Nothing local is big enough. Which is why I’d love to keep it if you’re certain we can hide from their tech.”
“We can make it past security, but I no longer have any idea if we can make it off-planet.”
“Keep the faith, cupcake. We got this.” Ryker worked at the controls. “Okay. I’ll set the coordinates for the exit point. Once we pass outside the city, we’ll have to go manual. Now, c’mere, Millie.” Ryker turned away from the console before settling onto the seat next to her. The craft drifted away from the wall, moving into the flow of traffic. “Let’s get some shut-eye before the next big thing.”
“I’m perfectly capable of—”
“You, too, baby.” Ryker reached out to Marie. “Cuddle up. Let’s go.”
“A little militant,” Mr. McAllister mumbled, sitting back in his seat and crossing his arms over his chest. He’d lapsed into an eternally bad mood.
Millicent prevented herself from admitting that Ryker’s warmth, coupled with the strong arm braced around her protectively, was comforting. She also refused to admit that having her child curled up on his lap, snuggling into the area where Ryker’s and Millicent’s bodies touched, gave her the most solid, grounded feeling she’d ever experienced. And she certainly wouldn’t acknowledge the soft, peaceful bliss that settled into her core as they huddled together, merging into a type of family unit that didn’t exist in this world. If she did admit to any of that, she’d also have to notice the dull tingle deep in her body that felt like it was awaking from a slumber. Ryker’s advances were bad enough now—if he thought she was coming around, he’d be incorrigible.
One thing did niggle at her, though. “If I can get pregnant, wouldn’t it create a problem if I were sexually active?”
“Breeders who stop taking Clarity, or who develop an interest in the opposite sex, are then put on birth prevention,” Mr. McAllister said as his eyes drooped. “We monitor breeders religiously. Some, like Ryker, for example, are given the birth prevention through their food—”
“What’s that?” Ryker said as he tensed. His muscles pushed at Millicent’s head.
“They do not realize they are infertile,” Mr. McAllister continued. “And as such, do not try to thwart our efforts. That’s only a select few, of course. Mostly women who would like to procreate. I think Ryker is one of only three men. Most of the time it’s not a big deal. Staffers typically follow the rules.”
“Which child is Mr. Hunt’s?” Millicent asked, banging on Ryker’s muscles to get him to relax. The bulging was uncomfortable.
“Oh no, he isn’t eligible for a natural breeding. He is much too unpredictable. And quite frankly, a little ugly, if I’m being honest. No, no. We don’t need another Mr. Hunt. The quest for brutality had to be scaled back after him. Although, I think they got it right with Mr. Gunner—Ryker. He’s just the right amount of hard and soft.”
“I’m not soft,” Ryker said, his deep voice vibrating against Millicent.
“You said the word cuddle and you are currently holding two females in a loving-type way that does not include sexuality. Mr. Hunt would not do that. He’d snap the neck of one and force the other. Oh no, nature went badly wrong with him. He’s forced to take Clarity, and is monitored anytime he is around an important staffer.”
“Yet you let him near the children,” Millicent said.
“Not near. He was only allowed to monitor the premises, something he is excellent at.”
“Do you still use him for lab-born children?” Millicent asked.
“Despite some of the traits that went wrong, some did go right. We try to extract those, and if the offspring leans too heavily toward being a sociopath, we terminate him or her.”
Bulges of muscle pushed at her again. “You are in a disgusting department,” Ryker said in a level voice. “You should all be killed.”
“And there’s the hard side of him . . .” Mr. McAllister’s eyebrows pulled tight. “It’s for the betterment of everyone to terminate sociopaths. They really can create problems.”
“Yet you knowingly bred one.”
“As I said, he does have some good qualities . . .” Mr. McAllister shrugged helplessly.
Millicent closed her eyes and hugged Marie tight. “For now, I’m just glad I got to breed.”
“For now?” Ryker whispered, his breath stirring her hair.
“What’s going on can’t continue. Something has to be done about the amount of power the conglomerates have.”
Chapter 14
“Security screen.”
Millicent huddled with Marie in the cockpit of the craft behind the closed partition. They were waiting in a line leading up to what was popularly called the Wall, a fifty-story building that crawled across the ground and reached out to the sea. It acted as a barrier between the conglomerate’s staffers and the unemployed. At least, those who were unemployed by the three major conglomerates that firmly held the reins of power.
“Need to come aboard,” a security staffer said over the loudspeaker as they slowed next to the guard station. “This is a visual screen. We’re screening everyone.” His voice sounded bored. He must’ve said the same words a thousand times since dawn. “Open up. We need to visibly—oh!” Surprise infused the last word. The security staffer probably recognized the build of Ryker if not his face. “Sorry, sir. Um . . . I didn’t get a report that you would be coming through . . .”
