by C. G. Hatton
I didn’t know what to say. I was struggling. I could feel the edge of pain creeping back in, the thought of the injectors in my pocket becoming overwhelming.
However she did it, Genie sucked up sanity from somewhere and walked back to me, taking the gun from my hand as if she knew I didn’t want it, and holding it herself, taking my hand in her other hand and squeezing, as if, somehow, if we got out of this, she could help these people. She couldn’t. People live how they live for a reason. It’s hard to change, to get away, to escape from shit like this. I knew that the hard way.
I didn’t know what to say so I just squeezed back. All I wanted was to get her out of there.
The big guy led us down and through a narrow rat run of alleyways that were packed with dwellings, edged in between towering machine blocks, a constant thrumming vibration everywhere. People were sitting out on stools, on rugs thrown onto the mesh walkways, eating from pots warming over thermostoves, hands grubby, faces dirty, children staring at us as we passed.
He brushed his way through a queue of people who watched us with wary eyes as we were steered through, Parish with a firm hand on my shoulder. I kept Genie close. She was gripping my sleeve. This wasn’t her reality. This place would never see any of her mother’s charitable good deeds. Anything of the slightest value would never filter down this far. Not for these people.
We ended up at a makeshift counter under a canopy draped over thick overhead conduits, an older guy who looked like he’d seen his own share of combat standing behind the table ladling soup into cups and handing them out to the steady stream of people who were waiting. The rough banter and harsh laughter stopped abruptly as we turned up but no one objected as the big guy pushed his way to the front.
“Trouble,” he said to the guy serving and pushed us away.
If the troubles above hadn’t followed us down yet, they were about to.
The guy called someone to take over, wiped his hands on a cloth and followed us, sidling close and saying to the big guy, “We’ve heard rumours… What’s going on up there?”
His accent was Earth, not Wintran, and he had tattoos on his knuckles that were brazenly military. Earth military.
Other figures joined us, shouts rippling out behind us as we disturbed what passed for peace down there, word spreading as the big guy gave them a fast run down on what was on our heels. Someone shoved into me from behind. The hand on my shoulder was heavy, fingers digging in. I tensed, resisting. Expecting a punch in the back of the head, adrenaline pounding in my chest, vision narrowing to a dark tunnel.
Except Parish hissed in my ear, “Keep walking. We’re with friends here.”
She didn’t smell of gun oil the way Sienna always did. She had a scent of herbs about her, incense, that was warm. I was shivering despite the heat. I kept my head down but glanced behind us. They were talking about weapons, defensive positions, setting up barricades. As many Earth accents as there were Wintran.
She saw me looking. “You’re not the only one who’s a long way from home. Your precious Empire spits their vets into the gutter as fast as we do.”
I should have asked her if she’d been at Derren Bay.
She squeezed my shoulder. There were a lot of things I should have asked her.
The big guy took us deeper into the slums to a doorway covered by a hanging cloth that was tattered and torn, brushing it aside to enter.
There was a woman inside. She talked heatedly with him in a language I didn’t understand, glared at us, then gestured us to sit.
I was about ready to flake out, sinking down without arguing onto a low, shabby couch that looked like it had been rescued from a dump, forcing myself to keep my eyes open. My right hand was shaking, whole left arm numb, and I struggled to take the cup the woman offered, scowling at us as if she knew we’d brought trouble. Genie took it for me and nodded a thank you.
Parish stood at the door, arms folded, and watched, refusing a drink. Moon wasn’t there. I hadn’t noticed when she’d disappeared but she wasn’t there. It didn’t feel right. Nothing about it felt right.
Genie leaned closed, as if she was just holding me, helping me to drink, but she murmured again, “Why are we not trying to escape, Fe?”
I took a sip of stale-tasting water and muttered behind the cup, “They’re helping us.”
It sounded lame but I didn’t know what else to say.
“You won’t trust the police but you trust these… these… She’s trying to sell us, Felix. Dammit, people are getting hurt because of us. Because they’re looking for us. We…”
She shut up as Parish stepped in front of us and crouched down. “Yes, they are looking for you,” she said, her voice cold. “You want to know why? You want to know why they just bombed half the city and killed a heap load of people? Why they have your family security detail and most of the city police in their pocket?” She paused for a second then gave a harsh laugh. “They want into the UM vault. They want you, Imogen Kilkenny. To hold you hostage against UM. To force them to open their vault.” She pierced Imogen with a stare. “Why would they want into your vault, Kilkenny? What’s in there that’s worth all this?”
My chest was hurting.
Genie didn’t question how the hell Parish knew any of that but she didn’t answer it either. I reckoned Parish and the big guy must have had Sensons because there was a lot more going on than what they were saying to us.
He came and towered over us with a sharp, “We have to go.”
Parish looked at me and said without moving, “Take the girl. I need a minute with Felix.”
Genie hesitated but I nodded, waited until she was out of earshot then said quietly, stomach queasy, “This is McIntyre. Does he want Genie or does he want me?”
Parish regarded me for a moment then shrugged. “We don’t know. We don’t know if he even knows who you are. Would he recognise you?”
I didn’t know. I hadn’t changed that much in two years. “Probably.”
“Let’s not risk it then. Could be her, could be you. Let’s try to keep both of you safe, shall we?”
My heart was thumping. I wanted to ask her. Desperately wanted to ask and I couldn’t say it.
She leaned close. “Sienna says you owe her a game of poker and you’d better get your cute ass out of this alive.”
I was close to hyperventilating. She was okay?
“What about Jensonn?” I whispered.
“Med-evac’ed out but he’ll live. Sienna wants to know if you know what’s in that vault. It sure as hell isn’t just a damned amulet.”
“I don’t.”
Parish gave a slow nod in acknowledgement.
Shouts came from the door.
She swore and stood. “Dammit, wait here.” She vanished out of the front door for a moment and came back in, fuming. Whatever they were saying to each other, the big guy wasn’t happy either. He dragged a kit bag off a shelf and shoved Genie back over to where I was sitting like an idiot, trying to figure out if I could move.
“They must be,” he grunted.
Genie stood up to him. “Must be what? You want us to trust you? Tell us what’s going on?”
He pulled a wand out of the bag and stuck it in her face. “They’re tracking you. Hold out your arms.”
She glanced at me but didn’t argue, letting him scan over her, head to feet. It didn’t beep.
“Gotta be your boy then, Parish. Someone’s tracking them.” He gestured me to stand.
It didn’t beep over me either.
They both cursed.
I sat back down, breathing laboured, desperately wanting to ask Parish if I could take another shot yet, but I just squinted at her instead. “Have you got a secure terminal?”
She gave me that wolf grin. “Yeah, but we can’t stay here. We’ll get you to a terminal.” She glanced at the big guy. “If we get below the reactor, there’ll be interference. Let’s see the bastards chase us down there.”
Moon turned up somewhere between the next
level down and the reactor level. She pushed in next to me as we moved along a raised walkway, edging Genie aside and nudging me gently.
“Does she know?” she murmured, provocative, not totally keeping her voice to a level where Genie wouldn’t hear, and slipping her hand into mine, pulling me close.
“Know what?” Genie said, sharp, staring back at me as Parish walked up and nudged the escort girl forward.
Moon laughed and let go, giving me that lingering look through long eyelashes as she sidled away, presumably on Parish’s orders to take point.
“Know how much shit we’re in,” Parish said, and muttered sideways to me, “Jesus, Felix, you are everything and then some that everyone has ever said. Those lives you have left… make them count, you hear me?”
She walked forward without looking at me.
The shot came out of nowhere.
Must have been a long-range sniper rifle.
Parish dropped.
Genie turned, shock on her face, Moon shouting and grabbing her.
The big guy spun and started shooting.
I was running to Parish even as she was rolling, groaning and struggling to her knees. She must have been wearing body armour because she lurched to her feet and bundled into me, herding me away, shielding me and pushing me forwards without a word.
We ran.
The noise of the reactor was getting louder. The heat was stifling, damp, humid, chemical-tainted, electrobe-infected heat that dragged at every sense.
Shouts started to echo in from behind us.
The walkway was bouncing beneath my feet, every step vibrating, sending shooting sparks of pain into my chest, my arm, flares of light flashing behind my eyes.
Genie was ahead of me, turning, Moon holding her arm, turning…
There was a distant crack and Moon fell, falling backwards as blood blossomed from a hole in the centre of her forehead.
Another sniper round.
Perfect head shot.
Genie recoiled.
Nothing body armour can do against a head shot.
The military vets the big guy had rallied to defend their settlement behind us had no one to fight as McIntyre and his team were just standing back and letting a sniper do their dirty work.
I reached for Genie and dragged her forwards, even as Parish was bundling me forwards.
They wanted us alive.
Every ounce of reasoning screamed at me that they… that McIntyre… wanted us alive. But the people with us…the guild agents that were trying to help us…?
The big guy was shouting.
Another crack of gunfire cut through the noise, missing us but piercing a conduit overhead, sparks and steam spurting out in a superheated spray of mist that glowed a sickly green.
Parish ducked, yelling at us to cover our mouths as we ran through it, swearing as more gunshots echoed behind us.
It was weird… I’d had it drummed into me since day one on the Alsatia… no one messes with the Thieves’ Guild. That night, underneath the slums beneath the undercity below Winter’s affluent frozen and emotionless shiny steel and glass concourses…? It was like it was amplified. Cut off, outgunned, overwhelmed… None of that mattered. We’re Thieves’ Guild. And no one messes with us. Ever. Don’t ever forget that.
There was a doorway up ahead.
The big guy scooped us up and hurried us, almost carried us through it, turning, dropping to one knee and firing past Parish as she ran in.
She punched the door lock.
It closed. Sealed.
Genie shrugged me off and went to sit huddled by the wall, next to a massive bank of monitoring stations, pipes and valves, hugging her knees again, looking at me as if it was me that had shot Moon. She flinched away from me when I reached for her. I don’t know where she’d stashed my gun but she thrust it at me then, not looking me in the eye, a cold tightness to her jaw as she wordlessly demanded I take it back.
I curled my fingers around the grip, wanting to talk, wanting to explain, but Parish stalked past, grabbing the back of my jacket and hauling me up and forward.
“You wanted a secure terminal.”
She pushed me down a narrow corridor and into a side room, some kind of control and comms centre, murmuring into my ear, “Activate everything you got. Full stealth. You understand?”
“What about Genie?”
Parish was already stripping a black band from her own wrist. “Don’t worry about the girl. You worry about finding a way out of here. Because right now, Control has no clear route home for any of us.”
Chapter 22
I ditched the gun on a benchtop piled with comms equipment and tools that had seen better days, snatched a terminal, and crawled under the bench. All I had was Charlie’s wristband but that had life signs negators built into it, as well as all the other stuff. I couldn’t activate it by remote without a Senson so I had to get to it, not easy with my other arm strapped and the sleeves of the jacket and shirt bulky over the top of it. I dragged my right arm over my leg until I could see it and I stared at it, instantly flashing right back to the moment the guy dropped Charlie’s stuff into my hand, numb, my lungs on fire, dried tears streaked down my face… I could taste the gas, falling into that aching drag at the centre of my soul that threatened to take me under…
I blinked as a hand touched my leg.
Parish was kneeling in front of me. My heart was pounding. She took hold of my arm gently, pushing up the sleeve and activating the stealth kit with a stroke of her fingers. It felt like I was failing in some way but she squeezed my wrist and stared me in the eye until I could breathe.
“Find a way out,” she said again, more softly, pressing one injector then another gently against my skin. She waited, watching me while the warmth of the go-juice spread and the antidote eased the pressure in my lungs, then she stood and backed away, leaving me to it.
There was something about the way she said it that made me believe I could.
The terminal wasn’t secure so I had to be careful but it was connected to the whole system. I worked it fast, back against the wall, left leg stretched out, right knee tucked up tight.
There were tunnels that led from the city centre out to each of the seven major corporate headquarters. Secure. Housing cables, comms, power, AI veins and conduits. Protected by impenetrable blast doors and layer upon layer of security, but nonetheless tunnels. The AI controlling it all was immense. There were encryptions that intertwined the seven esoteric corporate identities, all wrapped up in an overall command structure run by the coalition as a central governing body. I thought I had it, could see every individual strand, and I was about to nudge it when I dropped into a deeper layer. It felt like I’d fallen into a pool of icy cold water. It closed above me, trapping me in there. Even though I wasn’t linked by remote, I couldn’t move. I should have been able to back away and close it down and instead it held me there, temperature rising, heart racing. I channelled everything NG had taught me, slowing my breathing and refusing to react, just floating there, watching.
It eased off.
If I’d triggered a trap, I’d be flat on my ass unconscious.
It felt like it was waiting.
Watching me as much as I was watching it.
Faint pops of gunfire sounded far away.
Unreal.
It was like playing chicken.
Like running the gauntlet of the garrison and the automated weapons platforms.
I can cheat at poker. Cheat at mean queen. Playing chicken…? The only way to cheat is to not care. And that’s the best cheat there is. Believe me, I’ve played chicken with the Bhenykhn.
I saw a way through. I nudged it. Opened a route to Camborne. Sealed every other access route down there, and faked the feedback so no one would know.
And the AI let me.
It took a lot to back away, and I wasn’t totally out of it when someone grabbed my arm and yelled, pulling me forward, the connection breaking and the terminal dropping to the floor.
I couldn’t see straight, had no balance and fell to my knees.
The noise of the reactor level crashed back in.
The big guy was yelling.
Parish was yelling.
I scrambled to my feet and staggered forward. I couldn’t hear Genie anywhere. I’d got us a way home, to her home, and I couldn’t hear her.
It was Parish who had hold of me. She dragged me close and pushed the gun into my hand. “You have a new mission objective,” she said, fast and harsh into my ear. “Control want into that vault. Whatever is in there, get it and get out.” She moved closer and murmured, “And that’s direct from NG.”
If I’d had any doubts that she wasn’t guild, they evaporated in that instant.
“Do you understand?”
I had a lump in my throat so bad I wasn’t sure I could speak but I managed a quiet, “Yes.”
She said, “Good,” steering me out of the door and away towards the gantry that led right around the edge of the vast open area, power plant machinery thrumming away beneath us. Seven openings led from it, spaced equally, extending into darkness like spokes. The one that went to Camborne was the third one along from us. It looked a long way away.
I resisted, muttering, “I’m not going without Genie.”
“She’s already in the tunnel,” Parish growled. “She’s waiting for you.” She pulled me close and spoke, nose to nose. “Sienna will pick you up at Camborne. There are two more ETs moving in. And we have people coming in for McIntyre. Stay alive, you hear?”
I nodded.
The gunfire behind us was getting louder.
“Good. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”
She pushed me ahead of her. She had her gun up. I kept mine down by my thigh. The walkway was wide open to shots from above. I had no idea where the sniper was but Parish must have been talking to someone who did because she kept stopping, pulling me back, using stanchions as cover, and yelling me to run when we got caught in the open and shots started to ping around us. This wasn’t just an extraction now. It wasn’t just a rescue from a shitstorm of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was keeping me alive so I could get to the target. Pure Thieves’ Guild acquisition, only not just the amulet… now it was more, as if finding out what was in that vault was the most crucial mission of every sucker within the entire system. And as far as the Thieves’ Guild went, I was the field-op on the ground who happened to be right in the centre of that shitstorm so I was it.