by K. F. Breene
“We’re your new clients.” Ryker pointed a finger at them collectively. His arm flexed, and their eyes widened at the sight of his huge boulders of muscle. “You did say you were tour guides, right? That you can get us out of here without a problem?”
“I’ll take these.” Millicent’s light and musical voice cut through the masculine threats. Everyone’s eyes shifted without meaning to, unable to ignore the draw of the woman in the room.
Or at least, that’s what it seemed like. Trent really missed taking Clarity. Especially around annoyingly pretty women.
“How much?” she asked, looking up expectantly.
Sticks rubbed his fingers along his chin. Ryker clearly forgotten, he pored over the items she’d pulled out from his bag. “Nah, you can’t afford all o’ that. Them’s top o’ the line. Just came out, them did. Ain’t no other tech like it on the market.”
Millicent scowled at him in impatience. “Don’t be daft. My department put out something like this three years ago. We featured it in the keynote. How much?”
“Your department.” Worry crept into Sticks’s gaze. “Where you from? Why you want all this?”
“They lookin’ to get out, you trekking moron.” Shifty Eye crowded in to look at the merchandise. “I’ll get ya a price. Here.” He brought out a screen and tapped on it before pointing it toward her. He glanced nervously over his shoulder, clearly hoping Ryker wouldn’t be a part of the deal.
Millicent scoffed. “No way. Half that and you got a deal. And that’s overpaying.”
“You got any other options?” Shifty Eye asked.
“Obviously. I’ll tell my partner to kill you both. Then I’ll get everything for free. But I’m the nice one. So I’m offering to pay.” Millicent handed back the screen. “Half, or you pay us with blood. Up to you.”
“Sweet freedom, she’s the nice one?” A tiny smile drifted up Shifty Eye’s face. “You looking to pirate? ’Cause we can use a pair like you. We’d be the best outfit in this area.”
“We shouldn’t take no part in this,” Sticks said, inching toward the door. “They tryin’ to get out, you say. Two natural borns, a . . . whatever he is”—Sticks pointed at Trent—“and a kid, bro-yo? Nah. You caught a disease of the stupid variety. No kinda heat gonna be as bad as their kinda heat. We need to walk away.”
A siren blasted, drowning out their words. “Intruder! Intruder! Intruder!” boomed over the loudspeakers.
“Too late,” Ryker said, grabbing Sticks by the collar. “Get your shit and lead on. You just got a new job.”
Chapter 18
Millicent flung the credit transfer at the balding man with strangely wobbly eyes before collecting the items she needed and looking for Ryker. He waited by the door, holding the skinny pirate in place by the back of his shirt.
Clutching the new tech, she jogged forward as Mr. McAllister snatched up Marie and they all filed into the bland corridor.
“No, no, no!” Sticks was saying as Ryker pushed him ahead.
“Where to?” Ryker asked, yelling above the din. The door slammed behind them. The balding man had stayed behind.
“Shit! You’ve just trekking killed us, you resource rapers! They’ll lock down these doors. We’re trapped inside!” Sticks kicked the wall. Then he grunted and hopped.
“Not real bright, this one,” Millicent said earnestly as she glanced down at her wrist. “The craft is back that way.” She jerked her chin left.
“That dock will be on lockdown. And it’s too far away,” Sticks whined. “Our only chance was sticking to the outskirts in there.” He slapped the wall. “But now we’re trekked.”
“Lead!” Ryker shoved the man forward. “Go like the doors will open.”
“But they—” The man flung up his hands at Ryker’s look. With a sigh, the man started jogging left, but took an immediate right when they could. A moment later, they were winding away from their docking point.
“Why’d we dock so far away?” Millicent asked, breathing heavy with the weight of the tech in her arms. She’d need to figure out another bag.
“Anyone who can buy our stuff can survive that dock. The first time, they gotta be tested,” the man said, jogging right up to the door and poking at the screen. He turned, raising his eyebrows and hands as if to say, See?
“There is a communication gap between these thieving outfits, I think,” Mr. McAllister said as he switched Marie from one hip to the other. His arms were starting to straighten, though. He was getting tired. So was she. “Open the door, Marie,” he said, out of breath.
Marie looked at the door, and her eyebrows furrowed for a brief moment before her face lit up in a smile. She giggled, and the door cracked open.
“What the . . .” Sticks stared in astonishment as Ryker ripped open the door.
“Now close it up,” Mr. McAllister said after everyone was through.
“You have to tell her?” Ryker asked as they started a fast walk.
“The kid did that?” Sticks asked. “How?”
“She’s a kid. She doesn’t know what’s going on,” Mr. McAllister said, indignant. “A kid is confronted with a door. It keeps her in until she’s old enough to try the handle. Once she figures out the handle, you can no longer keep her in. With most kids, that doesn’t matter because we have electronic doors. But to Marie, the electronic mechanism is her handle. She just has to figure out how it turns. Once she does, she’s through.” They stopped at a door that had cold air seeping out from under it. “But she is just a passenger right now, so we have to let her know when we need her help. Marie, sweetie, open the door.”
There was barely a pause before the door clicked. Ryker grabbed its edge and pulled it open.
“You have to ask nicely, though, or that door won’t even open with the master code,” Mr. McAllister said. He sounded strangely pleased. “And she never has to figure it out twice,” he went on. “She’s the smartest of the bunch.”
They surged outside, Sticks in the lead. Cold assaulted them. The swirling cloud of environment coated the glass of the bay, leaving the small space next to the single docked vessel a tiny bit more pleasant. Visible anyway.
“Hurry.” The man barely reached his craft before the doors jerked open. He blinked at them. “She can open craft doors, too?”
Ryker shoved him in. “It’s a door, isn’t it?” Ryker covered the interior of the small craft in three strides. He bent into the cockpit. “It’ll have to do.” He glanced back. “Why doesn’t the conglomerate protect this bay?”
“They will.” Sticks pushed Ryker aside and climbed into the single seat. “Our guy controls this dock. He won’t lock us in. Although . . . with the kid, I guess it wouldn’t matter if he did.”
“I don’t know if she can unlock a dock,” Mr. McAllister said speculatively as Millicent dropped her tech on the seat and began hunting for a bag to put everything in. “I mean, I’m sure she can, but I have no idea how I’d tell her to try. She’d probably have to understand the workings of the thing. The mechanics—”
“We need to get to Downtown Southeast,” Ryker yelled as he looked at his wrist screen, barely heard over the sudden frantic roar of the engine. The man at the wall must’ve sent the coordinates for the meet-up since Millicent hadn’t transferred those over to him.
“This transport can only operate in a certain area, bro-yo,” Sticks said over the din. “We got restrictions. I can take yous as far as Leston Central. After that, you gotta nab a craft or wait ’n’ get yours from impound. Ain’t no other way.”
“It’s downtown. Surely we can stick within the public areas?” Mr. McAllister asked, pushed to the side so Millicent could check under the cushion on his seat.
“Nice!” she said, grabbing white canvas from the storage bay. Two straps hung from the ends. “It’ll work.”
“Leston is a ways from downtown,” Ryker said, picking Marie up and then sitting down with her on his lap.
“I got a lock pick right here.” Millicent held up th
e tiny green oval.
“That’s second-level security grade. It’s ours.” Ryker grabbed it for a closer look. “How’d they get that out?”
“Curious, isn’t it?” Millicent reached for it. He pulled his hand away, half a second quicker than she was. “I bought it. It’s mine.”
“It’s stolen, princess. Finders keepers.” He glanced down as he rubbed it against his chest. “Damn. No pockets.”
“Hold on!” The vessel dipped and then swerved wildly. “Air-cloggin’, factory-made baby stealers!” Sticks swore.
“Is he talking about us?” Mr. McAllister asked quietly.
“They got us locked. Shit!” Sticks ducked seconds before something hit the top of the craft. He looked up before yanking the wheel to the side. The craft shimmied. He jabbed a couple of buttons and then yanked the wheel again. A foul smell sullied the air, like rubber melting. Puffs of light-gray smoke billowed up around their feet.
“Time to go,” Ryker said, suddenly all action. Millicent barely blinked before Marie was in her lap, her little face closed down in consternation. Ryker ripped open a cabinet at the back before yanking out various black straps. He moved through the small space, checking under seats and in a small storage bay. “How many ejector pods?” he yelled.
“Only got one. Had two, but one weren’t workin’. Jimmy found out the hard way.” Sticks slapped another button before jerking the wheel a third time. The craft shimmied again. A puff of darker smoke swirled around their feet. “You can try the last one. I ain’t gonna. There was a reason this dang thing was retired, that’s for right. Don’t worry. I bet I can . . .”
The smoke darkened with each shimmy.
Ryker moved Marie from Millicent’s lap to that of Mr. McAllister, who was presently groaning in consternation. Millicent felt like doing the same.
“Can you log on to that craft?” Ryker pointed up at their attacker.
“They’ll be on manual with a ship like ours,” Sticks said, turning a dial with a click, click, click. “I been down this road before. They know how we cut their feet out from under ’em.”
“Something has got to be connected to their craft that we can disarm,” Ryker said, his electric eyes sparking. “Cause ’em hell for a minute, princess. Give me cover.”
“What are you doing?” Sticks yelled back.
“Problem solving,” Ryker answered in a flat voice.
Millicent felt the firm hand pushing her toward the front of the vessel. Then Ryker palmed open the console and stepped toward the door. “Marie, open the door, baby.”
“No, Dada. Don’t go!” She started crying.
“I got it.” Millicent pulled up the craft’s interior controls.
“It’ll only be for a minute, baby. Just for a minute. Daddy will be right back.” Ryker glanced at Millicent, the fire and burn overshadowed by something else. Guilt? Regret? Before Millicent could parse that expression, the doors shimmied open and he was gone.
“What the fuck?” Sticks half fell out of his chair as Ryker disappeared. “Did he go and jump?”
“No.” Millicent bit her lip as she navigated through the strange intranet before finding an entrance point into the main net. It took her only a moment to find an image of a Gregon Corp. guard locking down an alleged pirate vessel. Social media was rampant in all things related to violence. Then it was just a matter of breaking into Gregon Corp.’s extravagant intranet, way easier than it should’ve been, and tracking down the right department. Child’s play. They weren’t worried about people three clicks above the Curve when it came to town-side matters. And why would they be? Extremely smart people didn’t randomly leave their duties to become pirates.
Another first in her career.
With rough strokes that tore through the firewall, she barged remotely into the console of the craft above them and hunted for something that could cause mayhem. It took one beat of her hammering heart.
The high-pitched scream of a destabilizing alarm blared above them. The cheap, and therefore stupid, vessel would assume its Curve-hugging drivers were out of control. It would fight to override the manual setting and save the craft.
Millicent tripped the fire alarm, which would also enact an override feature. Next came the altitude alarm. She couldn’t locate the door locks, however.
The craft above them shook, undoubtedly jarred by a battle for control between human and computer.
“What’s going on up there?” Sticks yelled, leaning against the windshield and looking upward.
“Can you open their craft door, Marie?” Millicent asked, perspiration coating her face. “Help Daddy, baby.”
“Up? Up?” Marie pointed upward.
“Yes, up there. The vehicle above us. Daddy needs to get in.” Millicent shook her head, not able to find the information she sought. “The exits aren’t even on their command log. What the hell—”
“The information is filed in the operations area,” Sticks said, craning in his seat to look back. “They move it around to hide it from us. Try operations . . .”
“That’s just not practical . . .” Millicent accessed the file as a metallic scream competed with the sirens above. Footsteps pounded against the roof; Ryker was obviously trying to find a way in—possibly by breaking into a window.
“’Kay, Mommy,” Marie said, squeezing Bunny. “Open. It open.”
“Here—oh.” Millicent scowled at the door settings. Nothing pointed to it having opened. She really needed to figure out how Marie was able to circumvent the computers and still get the command executed.
Now wasn’t the time.
“Okay. Good girl, honey. Good girl.” Millicent pulled up the log. Just as she’d predicted, the craft was trying to override, but the operators were already aborting the application. They were used to the practice. Damn. “Daddy might need help,” she said quietly as she looked upward. A weathered ceiling with chipped paint stared back at her.
“Got another one,” Sticks said, leaning way right in his chair and staring out the window.
“Yup. That’s mine.” Millicent darted over to the pile of tech and snatched up a square item the size of her hand. She brought out one of her moderate-powered guns and affixed the item to the end. “I’ve always wanted to test one of these babies.”
“Ah!” Sticks jerked back as a body smacked the windshield. Sightless eyes stared in until it tumbled away, leaving a streak of red across the glass.
“One down,” Millicent said, slapping the console and then taking the two quick steps to the door. She braced her hand on the side before bending her knees. A moment later, she raised her gun.
A moderate-sized craft—a bare-bones type of vessel—hovered next to them with an orange light pulsing on top. A gun on the side pointed directly at them, the type with easily enough firepower to pierce a supposedly bulletproof wall.
“They’re running out of patience,” Millicent said as she pulled the trigger. The gun kicked as it fired, jerking her hand. No sound came out, though.
“Lower your—” The loudspeaker cut out. The craft started to wiggle, side to side, like a large tremble. A face with wide eyes appeared in the cockpit window.
Confused—one shot should’ve worked—she fired again.
Her gun kicked silently, making her step back. A body flew down in front of her, hands windmilling.
She looked down at the contraption, about ready to yank it off and just fire as many rounds into the new ship as she could before Ryker was finished, when the sound of the motor cut out.
“Ah.” She lowered the weapon in satisfaction. “That’s better.”
“What does it do?” Sticks asked, still staring out the window in shock.
“Electromagnetic pulse. Shuts down their electronic systems. These ships are rigged so that they will still hover, so I won’t actually kill anyone, but—”
The explosion blew her back to the other side of the craft. She hit the wall and then tumbled down over the seat.
Sirens blared. Her ears
rang. Ryker, face closed down in a blank mask, sailed past her, holding on to a black strap that was hopefully connected to something. Fire spat down at them, licking her body with heat. Ryker flew back in the other direction, still attached to that same black strap.
“Shit.” Millicent staggered to her feet, staring out as a burst of flame climbed into the air. In slow motion, the ruined craft wavered. And then tipped downward.
She leaned forward, watching it gain speed as it hurtled toward the ground. A vessel veered away, the guidance systems trying to avoid a collision, but vehicles this far down were stupid. Not fast enough. The security vessel slammed into it. Flaming debris flew out in all directions. Another craft hit, the sound of crunching metal curling Millicent’s toes.
Her stomach floated away from her body as the feeling of weightlessness came over her. Their craft had been released from the one above!
And it was falling!
“What are you doing?” Millicent demanded of Sticks.
“Shiiiit—” He pushed away from the window where he’d been watching the carnage and fell back into his seat. His fingers played across the dashboard as he tried to get the craft back online.
“What about Ryker?” Millicent lurched forward. She grabbed the handle by the door and leaned way out. Then looked up.
He was freefalling above their craft, body splayed out, extended knife in hand, determination on his face. He’d jumped when the craft had first started to fall. If they veered right or left, he’d miss and fall to his death. What an idiot.
Which meant she had to be an idiot to make sure he didn’t die.
“What’s the issue?” Millicent asked, short of breath, as she grabbed Ryker’s discarded rope and straps. She didn’t want to ponder why he’d left them behind.
“This thing is a piece of shit,” Sticks said. “My attempts to break free flooded the engine. I shut it down. I was waiting to try again when you blew that craft up. Didn’t expect them to let us go. Watch out, watch out!” He flinched at the horn blast. A vessel raced past them, way too close. “We’re in some shit. We’re falling out of the sky!”
