by Sarah Noffke
He used to pretend to make whatever project his father was making. The object his father held up was Knox’s version of a Tangle Thief. He remembered that he’d been holding the other part of it when he left his room. He remembered! Memories were rushing back to him.
He saw clearly in his mind the day his father disappeared. Knox had opened the door to his bedroom. The living room was empty.
“Dad?” he’d called out, his crummy version of the Tangle Thief in his hands.
Guessing his father was in his workshop as usual, Knox headed in that direction.
The memories were clear now, like photographs that had recently been taken.
He remembered walking into the workshop… His father wasn’t there, but part of the Tangle Thief was. And it was glowing. Knox wasn’t scared. He’d been trying to find his father all day, using his own Tangle Thief, but of course it hadn’t worked.
Knowing that this was his best chance, Knox reached out and grabbed the glowing Tangle Thief his father had left behind. With the receiver in his hands, he operated it the way he’d seen his father do when configuring the settings.
Knox whipped his head up, an urgency in his eyes.
“What is it?” Cheng asked, sensing the immediacy in his son.
Knox didn’t answer. Instead, he spun around and sprinted out of the room, through the living area, and into the workshop.
Hatch looked up at Knox’s sudden entrance, and Knox’s eyes fell to a burned section in the middle of the floor. That was the last place he’d stood.
Hatch indicated to the spot with his tentacle. “A tear was opened right there it seems, probably after you were transported, and definitely after we’d searched the house for you two. Thankfully it appears to have closed naturally, but this is an example of the repercussions of using the Tangle Thief.”
“Are we in danger?” Knox asked, staring around the old workshop.
“Radiation levels appear to be normal,” Hatch reported. “A few years ago, they were probably lethal.”
“And every time the Tangle Thief is used, it will open one of the tears in the universe?” Knox asked, even though he already knew the answer. He was talking because it was easier than facing the truth.
“Yes, as you damn well know, the Tangle Thief creates tears when used. And these tears will get larger and larger, as it is used more often and for bigger jobs,” Hatch said, waddling over until he was standing right in front of Knox. “Now, you want to tell me why you’re staring at that spot?”
Knox pulled his gaze away from the floor, not quite looking at Hatch. “It all came back to me. I remembered everything that happened. I remembered using the Tangle Thief to find my father.”
“You did?” Cheng asked at Knox’s back.
He couldn’t bear to turn around and face his father, so he continued staring at the floor.
“But…?” Hatch asked.
“But…” Knox covered his head with his hands. “But after entering Area 126, I can’t remember anything else.”
Chapter Seven
Landash City, Ronin, Behemoth System
Brodie ran the polishing rag over the hilt of his katana, his attention momentarily distracted as Dec’s ship landed.
It’s about damn time, Brodie thought.
He’d been on watch for most of the night and was fucking tired as hell. The metal on metal in his spine crunched as he stood from his station by the entrance to the Otterbots’ headquarters. He picked up the raccoon hat he loved almost as much as his sword, and stuck it on his head.
The katana had been a gift from his father, who didn’t know that the same steel would be operating his son’s body one day. Because of the damn Trid scientists, he was currently seventy percent machine. They had said that he should be happy to be alive. Then they’d laughed at him and called him ‘Rabid Raccoon’ and a ‘dysfunctional otter’.
Those scientists hadn’t been laughing when Brodie lopped their heads off with a single stroke of his sword.
The hat, which was starting to lose some of the hair on the tail, had been a gift from his grandfather. He used to tell Brodie stories of raccoons tearing through his garbage back on Earth. His grandfather had tried time and time again to catch the creatures, but they’d always foiled him. ‘Trash pandas’, he’d called them.
His grandfather learned the animals were attracted to metal. He fashioned his own version of a bear trap, right out in the open with no bait in it. The racoons’ own curiosity got the better of them, and it was one such unlucky animal whose fur made Brodie’s hat. He somehow related to the animal, as strange as it was to admit. His own attraction to metal had been both his undoing and his saving grace.
Brodie slipped his father’s sword into the scabbard at his back as Dec lumbered around the ship. The obnoxious Trid wore a crooked smile across his face that was flecked with blood. So the mission was successful, it appears.
Dec’s lower half was titanium, which meant that he made a shit-ton of racket when trotting to his bunk at night. His shark face was completely intact, which was too bad because there was nothing good about the pointy nose or black eyes.
Brodie still couldn’t believe he’d partnered with a Trid, but the money was good, so who cared if they killed a few targets to stay alive?
It was about survival of the fittest, and they were the strongest around.
“Hope we’re having steak, because I damn well deserve it,” Dec yelled, shouldering his giant gun.
Brodie was opening his mouth to tell the fucker off when, almost silently, three bullets ripped into Dec, the last one going through his head. Dec stumbled forward, blood bursting from the wound on his head, before he fell.
Behind Dec stood two figures. A tall man with a fierce expression who held a rifle, and a defiant woman, her hands calmly by her side.
These fuckers picked the wrong place to raid, Brodie thought, pulling his sword and. whipping it up sharply, swinging it through the air in a blur.
The man fired his rifle, but sharp movements of the katana easily deflected the bullets. This wasn’t Brodie’s first rodeo; if these two fucktards were raccoons, they’d make great hats after he was done with them.
Brodie halted when the firing ceased, and lunged low, his sword positioned in front of his body. The man lowered his weapon, giving his partner a look.
“Shoot him in the foot,” she ordered.
Is this chick serious? His foot, like most of the rest of him, was pure steel. He smiled, gripping the hilt of his sword. He wouldn’t even have to deflect the next attack.
The man lowered his weapon slightly and shot three times at Brodie’s foot. The assaults had no effect on him, and the man reloaded his gun. Brodie was preparing to launch forward and take these pirates out for good, when the woman reached for something.
It was all a blur. Brodie had been focused on the man and staring at his own foot. He didn’t notice the woman pull out a blade and launch it through the air until it was too late. It spiraled closer and closer until it stabbed him in his fleshy chest.
He gurgled on a mouthful of blood. Then he stumbled back, hit the wall, and choked on his last breath.
“‘Shoot him in the foot’?” Eddie asked, kneeling down to retrieve the knife from the cyborg’s chest. He wiped it on the dead man’s sleeve before handing it over.
“It was a diversion tactic,” she said, taking the knife and sheathing it. “I had to inflate his confidence, otherwise we were never getting past that damn sword.”
“Speaking of the sword,” Eddie said, looking down at the dead man. “What do you think of adding it to our personal collection? I kind of like the idea of slicing that baby through the air.”
“It’s not a fucking rail gun, but sure, why not,” Julianna conceded.
“What is he wearing on his head?” Eddie asked, inspecting the strange hat with a striped tail hanging from its side.
“It’s made from a raccoon,” Julianna explained. “This guy apparently thought he was Davy Croc
kett.”
“Who is that?” Eddie asked. The name sparked something small in the back of his mind.
“The Alamo. Texas Revolution,” Julianna supplied.
Eddie shook his head, nothing coming to mind.
“Are you still reading Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland?” she asked.
“I’ve moved on, actually,” Eddie admitted. “Chester has me reading the Hobbit now.”
“Alright, no more fantasy for a while,” Julianna said with a smile. “You’re brushing up on history.”
“You and Chester handle my reading list, would you? I’ve got enough to think about,” Eddie said, sliding his ear up to the door where the raccoon cyborg had been stationed. On the other side, Eddie could make out booming voices.
“Remember to aim for the fleshy parts,” Julianna said, hiding a sneaky grin.
Eddie readied his weapon. “Unless we want to inflate their ego, and then we shoot them in the foot.”
“Exactly,” Julianna said, picking up her boot and slamming it into the closed door.
Two Trids and one man bolted upright when Julianna busted through the door. The closest one, a Trid with a metal face and one red, glowing eye, launched himself at them. He was all brute force, and not even a little nimble, with grinding gears moving his limbs.
The other two searched the room, obviously trying to locate their weapons.
Let them find them. It will be more fun that way, Julianna thought.
I’m sensing a weird signal from the next room, Pip informed her.
You think it’s our last cyborg?
I think that whatever it is, you’d better be careful.
You telling me to be careful is worrisome.
Firstly, focus on these guys who apparently have metal plates obstructing their reasoning.
Pip was right. Julianna had merely lurched to the side when the cyborg Trid raced at her. His head had busted through the wall, where he was now pinned, trying to get unstuck.
Julianna whipped around and swept the Trid’s legs from underneath him. The fucking metal bit into her leg and hurt like a bitch, but she successfully took him down. He sputtered out several choking sounds as he tried to regain his balance.
Eddie had abandoned the guns, which was probably a good idea, since ricocheting bullets was a real possibility with three cyborgs in the room. He fended off attacks from both sides, as the man whipped his metal fist at him while the Trid brandished a bo staff.
Julianna yanked the trapped Trid out of the hole by the back of his shirt, the wall ripping open his throat. Blood gushed from the giant laceration and started to form a pool beneath the Otterbot.
The other cyborgs looked up, shock on their faces. Julianna guessed that it wasn’t every day that two puny humans walked in and bested these guys.
They both glared at her with white-hot anger.
“Oops,” she said, dropping the Trid to the ground.
The man flexed his fists, the hydraulics in his joints making a sharp sound.
“Oh, did you want to play?” Julianna asked, holding up her purely human knuckles.
She liked everyone, whether they were part machine or not, but she fucking hated murderers. That wasn’t what Ghost Squadron was; she’d never thought of soldiers on the battlefield that way. They were defenders of justice. Protectors. Those willing to sacrifice themselves for the greater good. These men were fucking cowards who preyed on individuals because they couldn’t look themselves in the mirror.
Eddie looked to be humoring the Trid, jumping back out of the way as the bo staff nearly sliced him in half. Julianna wanted to laugh.
The man in a steel suit, the one with only one red eye, held up his giant fist. The knuckles spiraled like the top half of a rubik’s cube until a small cannon surfaced.
Fuck, I should have seen that coming.
I was so expecting it.
Shut the fuck up, Pip!
The end of the cannon glowed orange—a sure sign that it was ready to fire.
Without guns as a viable option, Julianna set off at a sprint. She launched off a chair sitting to the side of her, ricocheted with one foot off the nearby wall, and leapt for the man. Before he could react, her legs wrapped around his head, and she yanked back, dragging him to the floor.
The metal man fell hard, his weight crushing Julianna. She managed to roll out from underneath him before he could scramble up, giving her the advantage, but she didn’t know what do with it. His entire back was a complicated mess of metal wires, and he was pushing himself up, although his cannon was making it difficult. She heard the gears as his body shifted, working the cannon back into his hand.
Press a knife in between the space along his armor at the base of his neck, Pip said, his voice urgent.
Huh. I don’t think I can.
This cyborg was covered in sheaths of metal, unlike the raccoon man they’d taken out.
All cyborgs have a weak spot. His has to be between the armor. That’s your best option.
Julianna pulled out a knife and, with lightning force, drove the blade down. She expected it to meet metal, which at first it did, but then it slipped between the sheets of armor and sliced deeper into a texture she recognized.
Flesh.
The cyborg collapsed, the lights extinguished and the noisy gears stopped grinding.
Thanks.
No problem. I’ve always got your back.
Julianna looked up to find Eddie standing in front of the cyborg Trid, who had his own bo staff protruding from his chest.
Eddie turned, appraising the kill Julianna had made. “Just gotta find their soft spot, huh?”
Julianna grimaced. Between you and Eddie, I get my fair share of bad jokes.
Although I’d prefer to follow that up with a pun, I need to draw your attention to something.
Julianna tensed at the sudden serious tone of Pip’s voice. What?
Whatever is on the other side of that door over there…it just got a lot more intense.
By ‘intense’, do you mean angry?
I don’t know what I mean. This isn’t something I recognize.
So we should probably storm in right away then?
Definitely. Ask questions later.
Eddie readjusted his armor and steadied his weapon. Fighting the Trid cyborg had nearly made him break a fucking sweat. If the assassin wasn’t pinned to a wall with his own staff, Eddie would have told him off for such a thing.
He was about to laugh to himself when he caught the serious expression on Julianna’s face. Well, more serious than usual. Actually, in battle, she looked half giddy. A trait he appreciated about her.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Pip is concerned about what’s on the other side,” Julianna said, motioning to the door.
“Like that it’s mostly machine and has a grasp like a vice grip?” Eddie asked.
“He’s not sure,” Julianna said. “But doesn’t it appear that it wants us to come to it?”
Eddie stared around at the dead cyborgs. “We did make enough noise to rouse everyone on Ronin.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Julianna stated, worry in her tone.
“Is it a trap?” Eddie asked.
“Even if it is, what do we do?”
Eddie stared between the closed door and Julianna. “We can’t turn back now. We’re supposed to take them all out.”
“Right, which means we’re going in.”
Eddie stepped in front of her. “Of course we’re going in. But I’m going first.”
Exactly as Julianna had done when they entered this room, Eddie lifted his foot and slammed it through the metal door. It busted almost completely off the hinges and hung sideways.
The room on the other side was filled with smoke, like an explosion had occurred. In the overhead lights, Eddie could barely make out debris littering the space. Food wrappers and packing material were everywhere. He kicked it out of his path as he marched forward.
His boot crunched down on a
can, and he looked to find something that filled him with disgust. A fucking Pepsi can. Of all the things to find. It made him hate these cyborgs more.
A cough marked by screeching metal caught his attention. Eddie looked up to find mostly spiraling smoke, but then it began to clear and a figure materialized on the other side of the room.
Like the other cyborgs, this one’s body was predominantly covered in armor. However, the man, only fifteen feet away, was smaller than the others. Tubes ran from his armor into the top of his head, making him look like some sort of prehistoric sea creature.
His eyes glowed red.
Eddie lifted his weapon, searching for the right place to aim. The smoke cleared suddenly, like being sucked into a vacuum. Then a screeching sound filled Eddie’s head, so loudly he doubled over with pain.
Unable to hold onto his rifle, he dropped it. His head and the searing pain inside was all he could give focus to. A bomb had detonated in his skull, and his brain felt close to exploding. He was only marginally aware of Julianna down on the ground beside him.
Whatever that cyborg was, whatever he could do, he was taking them both down without even moving.
Julianna tried to scream, but nothing came out. She strained to recapture control of her limbs, but with her brain on fire, she was lost.
It felt as though her head was being forced through a sieve. The figure in front of them stood casually, watching with his glowing red eyes.
Julianna, she heard over the crushing pain that sounded like a forest fire in her mind.
Her mouth parted, and she made to say, “What?” but nothing came out.
Julianna, Pip’s voice came again.
Drool puddled under her face, which was pressed to the ground. The pain was too heavy for her to hold herself up.
Julianna, I can help you. But you’re going to have to turn your thoughts over to me.
She couldn’t process that. She couldn’t think. The blinding, scorching pain was all she could feel.
Julianna! Let me have control of your thoughts. Then I can block out the cyborg.