14

“That’s your best idea?” I asked X-37.

“Yes, sir, it is,” X-37 said.

I hated heights. Thinking about the cable crossing made my hands shake. The only thing worse was complete failure and the real chance of death that would come with it. The doctor was a pompous asswipe, the type to put scientific research above humanity. His daughter was as annoying as any teenager I’d ever met. My best friend from spec ops was probably going to betray me.

My bones ached, my heart raced from whatever X-37 was doing to my hormonal profile, and the gray slime I’d eaten earlier was still talking to me. Now I was expected to run the rooftops of a decommissioned battle station with a failing gravity generator and sketchy atmosphere shield.

“I promise there won’t be any more cables or bridges. The schematics show one narrow walkway that is out of view of your destination, and thus not likely to be targeted by the enemy sniper.”

“You know they’re just trying to keep us here until their sodding super soldier catches up,” I said, climbing up the back of a building and crouching low as I moved across the first rooftop. The route X-37 had plotted for me circled the area with only a few deviations from what I might have picked myself.

The heads-up display in my left eye was necessarily small and limited. My right hand cramped each time I climbed a ladder. The cybernetic-enhanced left arm could mimic the discomfort of my natural right arm for the sake of coordination, but I asked X-37 to turn that feature off.

Having one arm without pain and one arm with pain might throw off my coordination, but I doubted it. I’d had the artificial limb long enough to know what I could and couldn’t do with it.

Phantom pain was another issue. It was worse when I thought about how I’d lost the arm, but I tried to put that image out of my mind. Unless I had a lot of time on my hands, like when I’d been confined to death row.

That woman holding my hand as she dangled from a bridge. Talk about a nightmare. It felt like a lifetime ago.

In a way, the worse this mission got, the better I felt. At least in my head.

I was on my third building before I saw the next major obstacle in the way of rescuing Hastings and his daughter.

The gangs of Dreadmax had found a way across the power plant exhaust trench. They had vehicles that must’ve allowed them to drive a considerable distance to the next actual bridge. No hand-over-hand cable shenanigans for them.

Lucky bastards.

I watched the RSG mob search and wasn’t sure if I needed to laugh or curse. They started off in organized groups but were easily distracted. Infighting, laziness, and homemade liquor further diminished their effectiveness. “I should be thankful they’re so unorganized, right?”

“The RSG search tactics are inefficient, which is good for us,” X-37 said.

“Are there any talk boxes up here?”

“None are shown on the schematics.”

It would’ve been nice to check on the security camera to see what Bug and his friends could tell me. I was dying to know if they had eyes on the spec ops team hunting me. Were they talking to that fuckstick?

“Why do I keep finding myself in the highest places you can find?” I looked down an alleyway so dark, I couldn’t see the bottom. The walkway swayed slightly, which I blamed on poor construction in a haphazard design. Dreadmax was like any other space station this size. It had gravity generators, but also relied on rotation to provide some of the effect. When this was out of sync, there were random vibrations and other side effects that made crossing the highest parts of the top deck uncomfortable. I tried not to think of the structural degradation that mission planners gave as a reason for their accelerated time line.

“What am I missing, X? I’d really like to see the spec ops guys that are after us.”

“We should’ve spotted them by now, regardless of how professional they are. But you had the same training and better tools. It’s unlikely they have cybernetic enhancements equal to what the Reaper Corps provided you,” X-37 said. “However, it’s equally unlikely they have left the area for no reason. Would you like me to designate a name for the unit and leader?”

“Sure.”

X-37 started to give me random numbers and letters.

“How about we just call him the super soldier ass-munch and his posse?”

“That seems like a long, unnecessarily imprecise description,” X-37 said.

“Super soldier it is. He has to have some upgrades to have thrashed me like that.”

“An alternate explanation is that you are losing your edge.”

“Bite your tongue.”

“We’ve discussed your colloquial phrases and their complete irrelevance to a nerve-ware AI.”

“Don’t ever change, X,” I said, rushing across the unstable foot bridge.

“I won’t.”

I moved as close as I could to Grady and the principals. He didn’t respond to comms. All I heard on my end was static. Whenever I saw Elise, I thought she was looking for a chance to run but hesitated to leave her father. There was a weird vibe between them, like maybe she’d as soon stab him as save him—but she protected him and pushed him to keep going.

“Are we being jammed?”

“Unlikely. The equipment to block radio communications is cumbersome and not normally assigned to spec ops teams. If I detected a naval vessel in our immediate vicinity, this would be a possibility.”

I searched the sky for the USC Thunder or one of the dropships and saw nothing on any visual spectrum. If Slab’s RSG saw one of the ships, they weren’t shooting at it this time.

“Maybe I should whistle,” I said.

“Excellent idea. Choose a sound from some of the local wildlife.”

“I’m not sure if I’m impressed or freaked out by your lapses into perfect sarcasm.”

“How can I not be perfect?”

“With you, X, it’s either a direct hit or a complete miss, and I think you steal my jokes.”

“It is necessary for me to steal everything. If you would please refrain from using the legends of this Chuck Norris person, I would appreciate it. The illogic of these jokes is mind-boggling.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, X.”

“Creativity, or whatever near approximation can be achieved through programming, is a capital offense for AIs. You know this. Are you trying to get me in trouble?”

“If you’re going to roll with me, you need to be an outlaw.”

“Noted. I will endeavor to create jokes and deliver them at appropriate times. Still no response to our radio signal.”

I stared at Grady and the others, muttering curses under my breath. “Come on, you dumbasses. Someone see me.”

Elise looked up, scanning the area as I had seen her do several times before. Her eyes went wide with recognition.

“Finally,” I muttered. “You just got out spec op’d by a teenage runaway, Grady.”

I pointed toward Grady, but she just stared at me, tired and obviously worried—probably about her father as much as she complained about him.

“Fine, I’ll just climb down there,” I said.

“Was that statement for me or for the girl who can’t hear you from this distance?”

“Wow, X. You’re on a roll today.” Climbing down took longer than it should have, because I didn’t know where the sniper was and I had this thing about not getting drilled in the head with a supersonic bullet.

Elise watched me but didn’t say anything to Grady or her father. My old friend must have been hurt even worse than I thought. He was totally focused on the super soldier and his squad of assassins, which was understandable, since he wasn’t accustomed to being betrayed by his handlers—something any Reaper expected by the time they’d done two missions. I’d done a lot more than that.

“I hope you’re paying more attention than Grady is,” I said as I slipped into their hideout. The backdoor, so to speak, wasn’t barricaded. “Sooner or later, they’ll come this way.”

“I know. Your friend has been in a bad mood since he got shot at by his ship.”

“His ship didn’t shoot at him,” I said, despite agreeing with her completely. It didn’t seem right to admit how fucked-up this mission was. “That was directive fire. I’m sure they’re just trying to help.”

Elise rolled her eyes, clearly disgusted at my bullshit.

“All right, fine. He’s a whiny bitch. Get betrayed by the Union one time, and you think the world is ending.”

She laughed loud enough to draw the attention of the others. “Thank gods. I was starting to think you had a stick up your ass just like he does.”

“Which one, Grady or your father?”

“Either. Both.” We didn’t have a lot of time before Grady and her father confronted us, but I noticed something about her hesitation to elaborate.

I waited for her to elaborate.

“I think you and I have more in common than we realize,” she said, unable to look me in the eyes.

“It’s about time,” Grady interrupted. “Do you have something against answering the radio?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing. All I’m getting is static or dead air.”

“That’s a product of the faltering shield generator. We may have less time than you think. Look there at the horizon. Can you see it?” Doctor Hastings asked.

It took me a second, but I saw what was bothering him. A cloud of debris was drifting toward the shield, clearly unrestrained by gravity.

“The gravity should fail all at once,” Grady said.

“Not necessarily,” replied the doctor. “Just like there are fluctuations in the atmosphere shield, energy isn’t constant. It pulses. The key is to keep the wavelengths near enough that it makes no difference. This place is falling apart and so is the technology. You can expect a gradually decreasing ring of effectiveness around whoever is maintaining the generators. Because it’s clear not all of the station is getting regular tune-ups.”

“Can you walk, Grady?” I asked.

He nodded grimly.

“Then we better get moving. I don’t think they know I’m here, so I’ll shadow your movements and remain out of sight for as long as possible.”

Grady objected, “That can be tricky and it’s also unnecessary.” He handed me a shortened, highly modified version of the HDK I’d lost and several full magazines. “I scavenged these after our last encounter with these guys. Let’s stay together.”

“I have my reasons for splitting up.”

“We don’t have time for bullshit. What the hell are you talking about?”

“I ran into the leader of the spec ops team hunting us. We didn’t hit it off.”

“Leave it to you to antagonize the people probably sent to rescue us,” Grady said.

Elise and I shared a knowing look. My friend was in pain and denial.

“Get moving, Grady. I’ll be right behind you.” I waited until he was out of earshot, then nodded at Elise. “You and I are going to talk later.”