by K. F. Breene
“It’ll blow this docking. Hopefully.”
“What brings you?” a voice said over their speakers.
“Just seeing the sights. Taking the missus to see the great city of Los Angeles.” Ryker’s finger touched down on the button.
“LA is a great place to meet new friends. You got any other passengers on this pleasure cruise?” the voice asked.
Ryker hesitated, staring hard. “Two.”
Millicent’s fingers turned white where they were gripping her seat. She wanted to ask what the hell he was doing but didn’t dare talk with the speakers active.
“They as fit as you?” the voice went on.
“The man is thinner and shorter. And a kid.”
“Uh-huh.” The man reached to the side and came back with a small stack of clothes. “Unexpected vessel. But it grants you more sights to see. You want to do any shopping during your holiday? Or have an inclination to sell something you found during your travels?”
Ryker sent her a quick glance. “We can buy all day long,” he said to the man with ease.
“It’s customary to grease the turntable when you’re in a craft like that. Generosity spreads good favor. Then you can proceed as planned. You got heat. Stay low to avoid the flame.”
“None of that makes any sense,” Millicent mumbled without moving her lips. “What’s happening?”
“Got it. Transferring now.” Ryker pulled up a screen on his side, accessed some sort of electronic cache, tapped it a few times, and then swiped his finger toward the security.
The guard’s eyes widened briefly. He glanced behind him before reaching to the side again. “Route coming your way. I’ll pave the way as much as possible, but you gotta scratch your way through it. Best of luck on your holiday.”
Ryker didn’t glance at his wrist when it lit up, a purple-pink color.
“Send out your pickup tray,” the voice said.
Ryker worked the dash before a mechanical sound infiltrated the silence. The guard put the fabric and a flimsy screen into the tray and then stepped back. He glanced behind him again. “We’re rooting for you. Give ’em hell.”
“Hear it. Out.” Ryker slapped a button, and the craft drifted peacefully away from the wall. The barrier in front of them cleared, and green shone down on them again. “Hold your breath.”
“What just happened?” Millicent asked, incapable of holding her breath any longer. She was about to pass out as it was.
“He must handle the admittance of pirate vessels intending to sell their spoils. Looks like he directs them into safe ports in the city to buy or sell, whatever they’re after. They work in the black, away from the various conglomerate eyes in the city. Clearly that’s who he thought we were at first—”
“Yes, clearly,” Millicent said dryly.
“—and since we need all the help we can get, I figured we’d better take a quick look at the black-market tech, see if they have anything we might need. Why not? He had those clothes ready and waiting. But he also works for Roe. He realized who we were—probably by the eye scan—and that we’re here to meet up.”
“What about the other stuff? Because if there are flames, obviously staying low makes no sense.”
“You are too literal for your own good, princess.”
“An annoying product of her breeding,” they heard from the main cabin.
Ryker smirked, then said, “Grease the turntables is a request for a bribe. Generosity goes a long way. They want you to live so you can buy them off another day. I took care of that. Heat is obviously the conglomerate looking for us, and staying low . . . well, looks like we’ll be slumming it. You don’t really want to know where he’s sending us.”
“What floor?” Millicent asked in an even voice.
“Los Angeles is not only a hugely sprawling city with all three conglomerates housed here, it is also quite a bit taller than San Francisco, as far as structures go. So when I say we are going to floor twenty-three, that doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
“You’re right, I don’t really want to know.” Millicent worked through the net, getting more familiar. “Do you need me to navigate?”
“No. The ship is half guiding. This must be a normal dock point. Annoying, the veering left.” Ryker dropped them into a lower travel way as soon as he could. Tendrils of brown fog licked at their windows before they dropped farther down still. And farther. It turned into thick soupy brown that obscured all but the faint glow of travel-way markers and the lights of the vessels around them.
Millicent couldn’t help her lip curling in distaste. “This is worse than San Francisco.”
“And three times as dangerous. There was a reason you were stationed where you were. Our . . . past conglomerate held the monopoly on that area. It was pretty easy to monitor when a different conglomerate went rogue.”
“Yet I’ve had three attempts on my life.”
“Pretty easy for someone of my caliber, I meant. The deadweights you had in security at the time weren’t worth the resources they were using.”
“The others certainly didn’t have your ego, that’s what I’d bet.” Millicent pulled her hands away from the flickering hologram. “Looks like the net port is finicky. They must have software to try and keep out these ships. I can fix it . . .”
“The hanging sentence thing is you asking for an order, is it? I’ll remember that.”
“Boy, this knife is itching to be used. It’d fit perfectly between your ribs.” Millicent didn’t wait. She just got to work as Ryker lowered the ship. Brown turned to nearly black, the environment so thick and filthy it blocked out the light. Huge buildings twice the size of those in San Francisco ghosted by, nothing more than blips in the computer and strange shapes they could barely see.
“Can you turn on some lights back here?” Mr. McAllister’s disembodied voice drifted up through the silence. “Marie is getting scared.”
Ryker flicked something on the dash. A glow drifted through the partition.
“I transferred all the money clocked on the ship,” Ryker said into the gloom. “It was a substantial sum.”
“You should’ve transferred funds from my account so we could keep the pirate booty. It was probably less traceable.” Millicent bit her lip as she analyzed some truly exemplary code within Gregon’s firewall. “That little vixen is damn good. Look at this. She’s raising the bar.”
“I did.”
“Huh?” Millicent asked absently while trying to get into the code-writer’s head. It was an extremely complex grouping of systems that seemed completely random. It almost seemed like it couldn’t work. But it did. Which meant Millicent was missing the through thread.
“I used mine. Yours was completely untraceable after a certain point. I tried to trace it after I decided to get you off this planet. I’d thought mine was, but in the light of what I’ve learned . . .”
Like a flash of light, an explosion of brilliance lit Millicent’s world. “Of course! Smart. I keep learning from this lady.” Millicent clapped and then bent over the hologram. With the part of her brain she wasn’t eagerly using, she multitasked. “I thought it was my choice to go off-planet?”
“I got cold feet toward the end. Regarding Marie. I wanted you to choose what would be best for her. But I’d already decided to try for you. Long before you were ready to leave.”
“I see. And when did you first decide to get me off-planet?”
“It was when I—”
“Shit. Sorry to interrupt, Ryker,” she said absently, her mind whirling around the problem. She was only so good at doing two things at once. “But no. This won’t work. I need to go straight through, not around. She’s more of a linear thinker than I am. Mr. McAllister, did I have any natural-born sisters? I mean . . .” She rubbed her nose in irritation. “Not like a sibling, but someone who got the same secret sauce I did?”
After some rustling, Mr. McAllister’s head popped through the partition. “What’s this now?”
“Ta
lk about engineering human beings and he’s all ears,” Ryker growled.
“The woman in Gregon who is as good of a coder as I am,” Millicent said. “Was she in my batch?”
Mr. McAllister checked his wrist screen. “I don’t have specifics without the database, so I can’t be positive we are talking about the same person, but it stands to reason. She came first. They had great success with her, so they decided to use the same recipe, as it were. So yes, she is your sister. Blood sister, actually. I believe you two had the same parents. I can’t be sure—what?”
Millicent’s hands had stilled. She was staring at the code, but not seeing it. Thinking of her daughter, and her current situation, the enormity of what Mr. McAllister was saying crashed down onto her. She barely felt the large palm on her thigh, supportive.
“I have parents,” she whispered. She blinked away sudden emotion. “This woman is my sister. My natural-born sister. I have parents . . .”
Ryker’s hand squeezed. “It’s a good day,” he said genuinely. “It’s nice to know you aren’t totally alone in the world. That there are others like you who weren’t made in a lab.”
“Well . . . I mean . . .” Mr. McAllister rubbed his chin as he stared at Ryker. “Obviously no one is really alone. Right? Because here we are, with people . . .”
“Family is different, you half-wit. She has a family—all related. She came from somewhere.” Ryker’s fingers softly brushed a tear from her cheek. “We can create that for Marie, Millie. We can expand our family. And then we can invite yours to join us. Marie will know her aunt. And maybe her grandparents if we can find them . . .”
“Okay, wait a minute. I think this just got blown way out of proportion.” Mr. McAllister waved his hands. “She and this other woman have the same parents, but that doesn’t mean they are actually a—”
Mr. McAllister fell back with a grunt. Ryker uncurled his fist and replaced his palm back on Millicent’s thigh.
“Ow,” Mr. McAllister whined. “Why did you punch me?”
“It’s just . . . crazy.” Millicent wiped another tear from her eye and pushed away the strange fuzzy feeling that was invading her whole body. Then, with a sigh, she let herself give in for a moment. She let this sentimentality run away with her.
Her hand covered Ryker’s, and then her fingers curled under his palm. The next moment, large fingers were on her chin, pulling her in his direction. His breath dusted her face before those soft, shapely lips touched hers.
A glorious tightness consumed her as he lightly sucked on her bottom lip. His lips parted, begging hers to do the same. When she did, his tongue darted in, playful. His large but gentle palm slid over her breast. She didn’t recognize her moan, as full of longing as it was.
Blaring horns drowned out the buzz in her head. A siren went off right beside them. Lights flashed.
“Look out!” Mr. McAllister yelled, popping into the cockpit.
The heat was ripped away. The vessel jolted back left.
All Millicent could do was blink. Blink, and focus on the uncomfortable pounding in her core. On the consuming feeling that would take much more than those black briefs to satisfy.
“I’m losing my mind,” she mumbled, not at all worried that they were dodging oncoming vehicles, but absolutely worried that her chest felt cold where his hand had been.
“Fun, isn’t it?” She could hear the laughter in Ryker’s voice. That would probably work out badly for her in the end . . .
Chapter 17
“I can barely see,” Trent whispered in the darkness of the cockpit as thumps and grinds announced a harsh docking.
“That’s probably best. I don’t like the smell of this place. Millie, I assume that larger jacket back there is stuffed with weapons?” Ryker stared out the window. Weak fluorescent bulbs hung off the wall at odd angles, showering the cracked and uneven walkway with dingy yellow light.
“Yes. It’s heavy, so I won’t be able to run as fast, but if the worst should happen . . .”
“I’m not worried about the worst right now, which is Mr. Hunt. I’m worried about small-scale attacks in large quantities.” Ryker shifted forward. “We might have a large body count by the time we get inside this place.”
Until now, they’d been safely confined in one craft or another. Trent didn’t know how to operate one, having never done so before, but there’d been a sense of security. Mr. Hunt was on their trail after all, so if something went wrong, it wouldn’t take long before Trent and Marie were rescued.
Now, though, everything was about to change. They were stepping into unfamiliar territory in the depths of a large and brutal city. Millicent and Ryker were more than capable, but there was no telling what security systems were in place. If they went down, Trent would probably be killed, leaving Marie exposed and alone. She could be snatched up by anyone—pirates, another conglomerate—and used for ransom or as a bartering chip.
Trent clutched Marie tighter. He would not let that happen. She must be protected at all costs.
“I’ll take Marie. Right?” he asked. “You guys cover us, and I’ll take her. I can run fast.”
“I thought you said you couldn’t.” Millicent swung out of her seat and then paused, waiting.
Trent cleared out of the way. “That was before things were chasing me. Can I have a gun?”
Millicent dug through the pack of new tech before analyzing the two items she’d risked her life to rescue. She connected one of them to the computer, and a flash of joy lit up her face as she stared at the screen.
“What?” Ryker asked, filling the small interior. He was immediately crowding everyone.
“Shoo.” Millicent waved him out of the way—something only she could get away with. “I’m getting the hang of this pirate network. It’s really genius in a way. Like an invisible intranet or something. I bet I could construct something like this . . .”
“Right now, let’s just stay hidden for as long as possible,” Ryker said, arming himself.
“Gun?” Trent stuck out his hand.
Ryker glanced down at Trent’s palm. “You’re shaking, holding my daughter, and you want me to give you a gun?”
“If you two die and I get caught, what am I supposed to do? Ask nicely for our attacker to go away?”
Ryker tilted his head, studying Trent with those crazy blue eyes. A grin flickered across his lips. “I see your balls have dropped.” A moment later, a gun was thrust into Trent’s hands. “If you use this against us in any way, I will—”
“Don’t tell me,” Trent interrupted. “I don’t want to envision it. It’ll probably give me nightmares.”
Millicent worked at her suit for a moment before rolling her shoulders and smiling.
“What?” Ryker asked, frustration now threading through his gaze. Trent knew that look—impatience.
“The new tech,” Millicent said. “It’s incredibly light. Genius, really. And extremely expensive. I wonder where the pirates got it.”
“Focus!” Trent said, knowing the frustration in his tone mirrored that in Ryker’s gaze. He couldn’t help it, though. He was terrified and also trying to gear himself up for shooting someone. It was a lot to handle.
“How much longer until they pick apart your code?” Ryker asked Millicent.
“Impossible to say. But when they do, we’ll fry the implants.” Millicent held up a clunky box. “It’s going to really hurt, but it’ll do the job. I did leave a loophole, after all.”
“What loophole? What’ll hurt?” Trent asked.
“Let’s go,” Ryker said.
“After I fried Ryker’s implant, they made my department issue an update,” Millicent said. “We did, but I left a few frequencies open. Rarely used electronic frequencies, obviously, because the update had to be beta tested. If I have ample time, I can hack into the system and fry our implants remotely, but . . . well, time is no longer on our side. Luckily, this gadget can mimic one of those. It’ll hurt a lot, though, because this thing is horribly old.�
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“Why did you bring me? Seriously, I was happy,” Trent whined.
“Stop being such a baby. Marie hasn’t complained once, and she is a baby,” Ryker said as he braced himself near the door, his tone light but his eyes hard and burning with malice.
“That’s because she can barely talk,” Trent mumbled.
“Here we go.” Ryker opened the doors.
Trent quickly strapped on a holster of sorts, stowed the gun, and then squeezed Marie to his chest. He felt the strange gravity that came whenever she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He wasn’t technically a parent, but he had been there at her conception, birth, and every day of her life. He felt he was every bit as much of a father as Ryker did—just without the insanity that came with Ryker’s hyperprotective breeding.
“You got her?” Millicent asked. Trent felt Millicent’s hand on his shoulder, somewhat trembling. She was hiding her fear with her ever-confident tone.
“Yes.” He wasn’t.
“Okay.” He got a pat.
“Okay,” Trent repeated in an exhale before catching Ryker’s violent gaze. Then Ryker disappeared into the cold blackness.
Trent stepped onto the cracked and buckled walkway. Millicent followed him out quickly and then fanned out behind him. “Close the door, Marie,” Trent mumbled.
The door closed with a rattle and shake, locking them outside on the foul-smelling walkway. Thick air shifted around them, so dense it almost felt like a physical thing brushing his exposed cheeks.
He adjusted Marie’s scarf as Ryker started moving. “Keep your eyes open,” Ryker said, his voice so deep and menacing, Trent shivered. He’d hate to be pitted against that man.
Without warning, a black shape surged out of nowhere. Something glinted, slicing through the air. Another shape dashed after it, phantoms in the blackness.
Ryker rushed forward to meet them. His fist, wrapped around a knife, pounded into the first assailant, poking holes as it did so. A grunt turned into a pained scream. Ryker spun, leaving a dead man in his wake, and his arm cut through the air. Knife blade dulled with blood, he sliced through the throat of the second attacker in a smooth, clean motion. The second attacker bent over in agony. His weapon went skittering across the ground before reaching the ledge of the walkway. It practically waved good-bye as it pitched over the side and fell into the nothingness.
