by James Wake
“Take the one on the right,” Tess said.
“I’ve got a bead on you,” Jackson yelled from well behind her. “Stop!”
“Not my bike!” That had to be her partner, surely.
Nadia threw herself onto the thing, barely seeing the panel light up with a stern ORTEGA, DAVID L. The engine roared to life in an instant, one tiny twist of the throttle enough to send her lurching forward and knocking the other bike on its side.
“Jackson, she’s on my bike,” Ortega cried. “Don’t shoot!”
“Get outta the way!” Jackson barked. Nadia glanced over her shoulder to see Jackson mounting up, righting her bike and taking off in pursuit.
Nadia’s scooter was a cute little kitten, polite and purring and floating along with class. This thing was a sullen tiger, waiting and ready for a chance to buck her off and tear her throat out. It jumped into the air, jet engines screaming as the wind whipped her face.
Nadia instantly fell in love.
“Not that way!” Tess cried. Two Auktoris Security hoverbikes were coming at her, red lights flashing and sirens blaring. Nadia cut the throttle and banked sharp, pulling a hovering one-eighty and blasting off in the opposite direction.
“Whoa. How did you…?” Tess said.
“I told you, I know how to drive.”
The look of surprise on Jackson’s face was clear through her goggles, wide eyes perfectly framed for a split second before Nadia dipped the nose of Ortega’s bike and zipped right under her favorite officer. She swooped back up, climbing high in the street canyon between skyscrapers, Auktoris Security still trailing her.
“Okay, I know you said you can drive,” Tess said, “but damn.”
She had missed this. Nadia pinned the throttle and kept it there, screaming through the light-soaked night with cars below her zipping by. Street races were so much more fun when the cops gave chase.
“They’re still on you,” Tess said.
Sadly this bike wasn’t like one of the racers Nadia used to own, sleek and stripped down and light—hardly more than an engine and a seat. This one was probably the exact model as the two chasing her, thick and bulky and mean. Nadia eyed them over her shoulder, counting and waiting and holding her breath.
There. A busy intersection ahead, red lights waiting with cross traffic. She dove right for it.
“Uh?” Tess said. “Hey? Hey!”
Not yet.
“Traffic!” Tess yelled. “Climb!”
Silly. Her pursuers matched her, leaning in close to their handlebars, faceless helmets eager for the kill.
“Holy shit what are you doing? Ahhhh!”
Now.
Nadia cut the throttle, slamming the air brakes on and lifting the bike’s nose so it was almost completely vertical. She stood up in the stirrups, her heart screaming into her throat. The two APS bikes zipped past her, shock evident in their riders’ bodies for one perfect moment before they zoomed past her into traffic with a racket of horns and alarms.
She lowered the nose, still sliding too fast toward the lights, when something slammed into the back of her bike, lifting her off the seat. Nadia turned to see Officer Jackson coming out of the same braking dive, swiping her bike into Nadia’s.
A perfect hit, nose to rear corner. Nadia’s bike slid and rolled, threatening to flip and dump her off. Knowing this trick, she rolled with it, squeezing with her thighs as she flipped upside down, pulling the nose with her to do a vertical half loop.
Only a fool would do something like this so close to the ground. Nadia tensed up, ignoring Tess’s yelping in her ears as she strained to hold on to the handlebars, the bottom of her bike scraping the top of a stopped car. She cleared it, revved the throttle, and screamed off down the street in the direction she’d come from.
“Holy shit!” Tess’s voice shook. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”
“Asked a gentleman to teach me after he beat me in a race,” Nadia said, effortlessly banking between oncoming cars, the bike scorching a black trail on the pavement.
“How the hell did he beat you?”
Nadia ignored the question. “That wasn’t the only thing he beat that night.”
“Ugh. Never mind. I almost forgot you used to substitute sex for actual feelings.”
“Better than repressing my basic drives,” she said. She lifted off again, checking her mirrors and feeling a thrill to see Officer Jackson cutting a sharp turn, back on her trail.
“How am I repressed?” Tess said. “Oh, hey. Take this left. It’s clear. You know I ’bate like eight times a day right?”
“My point exactly,” Nadia said, leaning into a hard left. “Did you just abbreviate the act of self-pleasure to ’bate?”
“Nothing abbreviated about it.”
“Ugh, so that’s why you’re in the bathroom all the time?” Nadia said. “Don’t tell me you have recordings of myself for reference?”
“No!” Tess said, far too quickly. “Take a left at these lights.”
Nadia took the left and blinked. Two patrol cars and a swarm of hoverbikes were coming down the road toward her, a riot of sirens and flashing red lights.
“You see it?” Tess said.
After a moment of no throttle, she did. Road work in progress, orange cordons surrounding a dark, yawning hole knocked into the middle of the road. A gate was half installed over the pit, what would soon be emergency access to the drainage tunnels that crisscrossed the city.
“Do I need to open it more or…oh, hey you fit,” Tess said.
Nadia’s goggles switched modes automatically, her hand yanking the brakes on again and sliding into a screeching stop. The gate behind her creaked shut. The sirens grew quieter, the lights from outside shrinking until the last thing she saw was Officer Jackson’s glaring goggled eyes as she braked to a stop outside the closed gate.
Just a glimpse. Enough for Nadia to blow her a kiss.
Darkness. A satisfied smile hid under Nadia’s mask as she revved the throttle and peeled out into the maze of tunnels under the city.
Chapter Eleven: Leap of Faith
“Jackson, responding. En route.” She tipped the throttle open a bit, coasting above the morning traffic. Harsh dawn light crept down the sides of the buildings around her, the streets still deep in shadow.
At least it had been a quiet night. No black-clad girl taunting her, no fanged cat with a hundred voices whispering in her ears. Just another shooting and a few evictions. Routine.
The compass at the top of her HUD pinged. She glided down to street level, clicking her siren a few times at a teenager flying too high on a scooter. Lucky kid. Jackson would’ve chased him down and ticketed him if she wasn’t already on a call.
The reported vagrant was indeed loitering on the sidewalk, in the technical sense. Not panhandling, not busking. The man didn’t seem to be bothering anyone as he limped along, leaning against a brick wall for support. Normally Jackson wouldn’t have given him a second thought.
But someone had complained, so she landed next to him. “Sir?” Her goggles reported his identity the moment he turned to her, but she didn’t need them. “Carroll?”
“Oh! Hey,” he said, dropping his eyes. He’d lost weight, but Jackson wouldn’t have meant it as a compliment. Clearly he hadn’t been on the street too long. His clothes were dirty but intact, and he had unruly stubble that might one day be a grand hobo beard.
“What are you doing out here?” she said, dismounting and putting a hand on his shoulder. Not rough, not to drag him away.
“Looking for a job, dumbass,” he said. His face turned fiercely red, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes.
“Not like that, you aren’t.” She felt his hand grab at her armor vest, desperately cling to it. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it. “How’s that wrist doing anyway?”
“All her fault,” he said, sniffing and picking hi
mself up a bit. “Dereliction of duty. Sleeping. Like anyone can stay awake all night every night for years. They never would have known if that stupid girl hadn’t...”
“I’m sorry, Chuck,” she said. She glanced around, putting herself between him and the cars passing by; shielding him from the few pedestrians out at this hour, none of whom were paying any attention. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“I don’t need help!” he said, yanking his shoulder away. “I can find a job. They said I can have my residency permit back if I get a job. I just gotta get a job. Some quick contract, that’s all.”
“You don’t need a job. You need a shower. And food. And a bed,” Jackson said. “I’m off in another hour. Can you—”
Red lights. An Auktoris Private Security patrol vehicle pulled up to the curb behind her bike.
“Oh, Christ,” Carroll said, limping away from her, still begging the wall to hold him up. “Jackson, hold ’em off.”
“Don’t go anywhere!” she said, grabbing him by the shoulder, rough this time. “You know they’ll shoot you.”
Two Domes got out of the car, one talking over his radio. “Responding, assist for Metro PD, already on scene.”
The other fixed his faceless stare on Jackson. “Everything under control? We saw the call come in. Thought you could use a hand with transport.”
Right kind of them. Any other day she’d be grateful for the help, happy not to have to babysit a cuffed perp until someone showed up to taxi them away. “Under control, Officers. Thank you.”
They didn’t move. Carroll trembled under her hand.
“Is he resisting?” one of the Domes asked, drawing a shock prod from his belt.
“No! Not resisting!” Carroll said, shooting his hands up in the air. “Jackson, help me, please.”
Letting him go was bad enough with her goggles recording everything. Ortega knew a trick or two to bump a few minutes off the file. That could be dealt with.
Feeds from two Domes, though? No way around that, not that Jackson knew of.
“Be cool,” she slid through clenched teeth. “I’ll find you after they take you in.”
“What? What? No, Jackson. No!”
The Domes stepped closer, prods drawn and crackling, but Jackson waved them off—if somebody was going to do it, it would be her. She drew a pair of hinged cuffs from her belt, snapping the rings open and tensing her grip on his shoulder.
“I said play along,” she whispered in his ear.
“Fuck you!” he yelled, bucking his shoulders against her. She shoved him against the wall anyway. “They’re gonna fucking kill me! Let me run, you suck-up piece of shit!”
Jackson cuffed his wrists together, doing her best not to twist them up too badly. “Charles Carroll, you’re under arrest for public vagrancy. You have the right to remain silent, although any and all electronic correspondence involving your person can and will be used against you in…”
“Fuck you!” Still not resisting. “You’re not a fucking cop. Just another fucking Dome piece-of-shit sellout.”
“You have the right to an attorney of your choosing,” she continued, “although if you cannot afford one, you will be expected to defend yourself to the best of your ability.”
“Check it out,” one of the Domes said, “the blues still read rights. Weird.”
“They’re not even cops anymore,” Carroll said, shaking his head, then turned to Jackson. “Your mother would be ashamed, fucking ashamed.”
Jackson felt herself move. She heard a wet smack, then felt Carroll collapse under her hands, his knees going soft. A splatter of blood marked the spot on the wall where she’d slammed his face into it.
“Nice,” one of the Domes said, sheathing his shock prod. “We’ll take him from here.”
Numb. They lifted Carroll to his feet and dragged him into the backseat of their vehicle. “They’re gonna fucking kill me!” he wailed, sobbing and flailing as blood streamed down his face from an ugly wound on his forehead. “They’re gonna fucking kill me. Please, Jackson…”
The door slammed shut, all sound cut off the moment it closed. Jackson felt her head spin, only once. She blinked her exhausted eyes hard until the spin got scared and went back into hiding. She would find him, go down to booking and see which subcompany had ended up holding him, get his assigned number, work something out before they dumped him outside the city walls.
Carroll was still crying, his face pressed against the glass. She was still standing frozen, swallowing hard, when they pulled away from the curb.
Gone. Just like that. Just another car in the distance. Her eyes burned. Tired. Always tired.
She looked up. Breaking news streamed down the side of the skyscraper across the street: a petite woman all in black, glowing blue eyes piercing the camera as she bounded away.
MASKED TERRORIST STRIKES AGAIN
Jackson’s jaw dropped. So something had gone down last night—not a word about it over the police frequencies. She thought she recognized the building in the background of the feed, an AGF office a few blocks from where she stood.
It wasn’t the first time she had missed the action. Usually she felt relieved, let out a wry sort of chuckle reading about it afterward.
Jackson didn’t feel that now. Not this time.
She hadn’t even brought her glare up to its full strength before the image flickered out, replaced by a huge cat face looming up the entire side of the building.
IN A WONDERLAND YOU LIE
No words in her ears, only text beneath Cheshire’s face.
DREAMING AS THE DAYS GO BY
Jackson’s brow scrunched up as she waited for that damn voice in her ears.
Nothing.
DREAMING AS THE WINTERS DIE
“What the hell?” she muttered. Movement in the corners of her eyes, every ad she could see on every skyscraper and billboard and small panel in her vision replaced with Cheshire.
RISE
She stared, blinking.
AND
Felt her heart beating.
SHINE
Jackson winced, shielding her face as the light of dawn finally reached the streets.
* * *
Nadia strutted around the office, stretching every other step, delighting in the tired soreness of her muscles. She hummed something not even close to a tune, and she hadn’t even had her coffee yet.
“You’re up already?” Tess said, looking startled as she perked up in her chair. “It’s not even noon.”
Nadia’s eyes had popped open as she lay in bed, asleep one moment and the next wide-awake, giddy and eager to watch herself on the news again. Last night had been a good one. In and out, not a soul the wiser until it was too late. An AGF office completely pilfered of its databases, though sadly there was nothing physical to come home with. A shame.
“How’s the news looking?” Nadia said, turning and finally looking at Tess with every intention of following up on that. “I could hardly sleep. I wanted to…what are you wearing?”
Tess swiveled in her chair, covered in jewelry. At least a dozen necklaces piled up and bracelets aplenty, although the ones on her skeletal right arm dangled loose. She’d even perched a platinum tiara on top of her head.
“I found your stash,” Tess said.
“Those are mine.”
“Don’t be jealous just because I’m the pretty one today,” Tess said, holding her hands up to show off far, far too many rings. “I mean, if you’re going to let them sit there gathering dust, I figured, you know, why not?”
Still wearing the jeans and hoodie, though. This one said, “Depression Is My Waifu.”
“You look ridiculous,” Nadia said.
“Ridiculously awesome?” She pushed up the sleeve of her hoodie, exposing an unusual amount of her artificial arm. “I gotta say, it feels pretty good. I might have to bling out this bad boy.”
&n
bsp; Nadia let her stare linger a moment too long before clearing her throat. “Can you put the news up on your screens, please?”
“In a minute, I want to show you something first,” Tess said, waving for Nadia to come closer. Her screens lit up with a large window showing a complicated array of nodes and lines, connections tracking all over the screen like a tangled spider’s web.
Dizzying, trying to trace it all. Nadia’s eyes didn’t bother; she was already bored. Instead they were pulled to the corner of one display, where one of Tess’s other open windows was peeking over the corner of the mess.
“That drive you took from the lab has nothing like a normal file structure,” Tess said. “Normally you’d see a hierarchical directory layout, but this…it’s an interconnected network of files. Sort of. Not really files per se.”
“Fascinating,” Nadia said, not listening. A wicked smile lit up on her face—Tess’s open window was quite naughty, it turned out. “Are those…tentacles?”
“What? Aah!” Tess flailed her arms as she rushed to close the offending window. “Can you focus, please? I’m trying to talk about something important!”
“How can I be expected to focus with such…deviant obscene material in my home?”
“Oh, like you’ve never looked at porn! And don’t even pretend you don’t know what hentai is.”
“I don’t, but perhaps I should look into it,” Nadia said. “That lovely young woman looked like she was quite enjoying that.”
“Moving on!” Tess said, pouting through the burning red on her cheeks. “That drive you stole contains an interconnected network scan.”
“A neural network, no doubt. Probably not so different than a feline brain?”
“Uh…yeah. How did you—”
Nadia cut her off. “Yes, a shocking revelation. Now, what’s trending on the news this morning?”
Tess stalled, rubbing the back of her neck, bracelets clinking. “You haven’t…like…watched any news yet today, right? At all?”
“Of course not.” Nadia stalked over to the glass walls at the edge of the office. Recently she’d taken to dimming them, setting them opaque to block out the harsh sunlight from her tired night’s eyes. Her reflection stared back at her, not as she stood in her plain old yoga pants and tank top, but a girl clad in black with glowing blue eyes.
