“Tell me we’re not going to the city.” He looks up at her, red eye bright.
“Pip,” she says, hands settling on his small body. “We are not going to the city.”
He nods, settles in her lap again. “We’ll be okay. And Tarvis will be back. You’ll see.”
She carries him to his perch, the stuffed bed she made for him, lays him out on it. Pip’s eyes drift closed as she hums the song she remembers from childhood, though not the source, and lets him rest.
She really should just shut him off, leave him here powered down. Because if she doesn’t come back, Didi has no idea what will happen to him alone out here. It would be the kind thing to do, to just let him go. Because she told him the truth. They aren’t going to the city.
But she is.
She can’t bring herself to release him, to turn off his power and let him go. She stands there for a long time, staring down at the crow who has been her only friend. He’ll only argue, get in the way. And she needs all her wits about her if this plan is to work.
Didi leaves him there at last, the sun setting over her world, quietly exiting the house and resetting the protections. He’ll be able to leave, to make his own way. There’s enough food around he’ll survive. And who knows, maybe the next time he tries to join the crow murder, they’ll have him.
If her idea works, she’ll come back for him. Hopefully not alone.
The night time quiet engulfs her as Didi heads for the edge of her territory and the cargo hold where all her hopes lay waiting.
***
Chapter Ten
She’s grateful for the dark when she reaches the cargo hold. It’s kept her safe, she’s certain of it, though for all she’s aware Jackus has the means to track her at night. She’s never considered him all that bright, but fear is a new thing that wakes thoughts she’d not normally consider.
Didi refuses to let his specter stop her from slipping down the ramp any more than it keeps her from crossing into his territory in the first place. No sign of the trash rats this time. Good thing since she hasn’t had even a second to see what’s wrong with the foolish gun she’d been so proud of.
The door slides open for her, hatch easing shut silently. Her toe kicks aside the remains of the rat’s nose inside, the rattle of its travels echoing in the hold. The blood trail on the outside is long since licked clean by whatever enterprising creature thought the taste a nice meal.
Didi glances up at the two hovering moons overshadowing her planet, the sparkle of their surfaces reflecting their trash-heap covered status. She rather likes the way they glimmer and glitter and wonders as she often does what treasures might be hiding up there.
No time for idle speculation or the dreams of a girl. She’s got to grow up and now, push past any thought of weakness or fear. If she’s going to free Dad and find some means to confound the Underlord who’s taken her father, she’s going to need the help of the silent, cold gunslinger.
She knows the one she’s targeting, hasn’t a doubt in her mind he’s the only one she might have a hope in all this to resurrect. Didi doesn’t look around, ignoring the sight of so much amazingness. She’s seen it before, after all. And maybe there’ll be time later to scrounge. For now, it’s the gunslinger she’s focused on.
He’s still there, the faint light from inside his capsule shining out at her. She pauses, toe of her boot shoving into the crack, pushing tentatively then with more force. Nope, stuck solid, just as she feared. She circles to the control panel, jerking open the cover to examine the insides.
Something sizzles, snaps, a spark falling to her feet. Didi’s gloves, slid free from her heavy bag, hug her hands with mole skin leather lined with rubber. Just enough to ground her, though she has to pause and deactivate her deflectors. Wouldn’t do to have a shock short them out when she’s likely going to need her feet under her shortly.
“Crazy, girl, you know that, don’t you?” She whispers at herself through clenched teeth as she digs at the corner of the panel with her screwdriver. It pops loose, falling with a clang so loud to the metal floor she jumps and clutches at her chest a moment. “Idiot. Be careful.” The wires on the other side crisscross and intersect, plugged into a plas sheet with circuits and wiring run through that, too. But, she recognizes the basic structure, had a mess like this to figure out when she hung the door at home. Grinning, she digs into the wiring and begins her work.
The door groans almost immediately, sliding slightly toward her. She doesn’t need much of an opening for now, just enough to squeeze herself through. Figures the gunslinger himself can make room if need be. But, with another tweak of the system, a pull on a red thread that seems burnt on the edge, the doorway heaves a final sigh and slides out of the way, casting a brighter light over the rest of the cargo bay as the interior of the gunslinger’s capsule is exposed.
Excitement pounding in her chest no matter Didi’s purpose for this endeavor, she circles the platform and stops, peeking around the corner of the door and at the seated, silent form of her chosen savior.
He’s in great shape, from all appearances, not a spot of rust or decay on him. The capsule seems to have preserved him far better than the rest of his counterparts. That’s what gives her the hope he’s the right choice. If any of these relics can help, it’s him. Shiny silver chroming and black plastic create a humanoid body, the long, narrow, horizontal slits of his eye holes dark and lifeless. Two gun butts protrude from his waist, standing out like an invitation. If nothing else, maybe she can take his weapons and use those.
Not sure exactly why she’s nervous, Didi finally forces herself into the capsule with the gunslinger and exhales. It’s slightly colder in here, the last of the chill air dissipating as his containment field shuts down completely. She takes a slow step forward, blood beating through her so hard she hears it in her ears. Another step, a third, until her outstretched fingers settled on the back of his hand.
Nothing, no reaction. So, he’s fully deactivated. She’s not sure if she’s disappointed or not. This could have been so easy if he would just wake on his own. Still, it might be better for her to have access to him before he rises. After all, his kind were shut down for a reason.
“Yup,” she says, one boot gently kicking his leg, making the metal ring. “Crazy.”
And yet, as she leans forward and pulls open his chest panel to peek inside, she can’t help but feel a surge of respect for him, and a bit for herself in turn. There was a time he was a great soldier, a peacekeeper, a gunslinger without rival. His kind kept the galaxy safe, created from the fallen bodies of men and women who signed over their physical forms to serve and protect. And, for herself for being brave enough to take matters into her own hands.
She’d like to think she would have volunteered to be a gunslinger, given the chance.
Didi lets out a soft crow of delight at the sight inside his chest panel. There it is, at heart level, the power chip she dreamed of. Without it, she’d be without a hope or a prayer. The tiny fission generator is a miracle of engineering, one she’s studied in the past and tried without success to recreate. But, as she leans closer, thumb running over the surface, she curses softly.
It’s damaged, the blackened edge a clear indicator. Tongue clamped between her teeth and fingernails digging for purchase, Didi pulls at the corner of it, tugging as gently as she can. It pops out into her palm a moment later, lying quietly in her hand. The core of the most power ever created by humans sits in her grasp, the one thing that means success or failure in this venture, and it’s not working.
Heartbreaking. Didi rubs it gently, over the scorched spot. This must be why his was left intact. They are too valuable to just leave behind, she reckons. The few gunslingers she looked at already are missing theirs, panels open. She turns, does a quick visual scan of the ones she can see, cast in the glow of light from the chamber, and her heart sinks further.
All chest panels are open. Which can only mean they are empty.
Didi turns back to
the gunslinger and debates even as she gently massages the black from the edge of the chip. It’s warm in her hand, suddenly, vibrating, though it stutters and stops after a second. Renewed enthusiasm takes over as Didi lowers her goggles and takes a closer look.
There, the damage. She sees it, magnifies it until it’s clear. Not so much, but enough to slow the pulse of the core, to interrupt the steady rush of fission power. Can she fix it?
Does she have to? If she can bypass the damage, create a constant flow, there might be enough power to at least start up the gunslinger. She only needs him to do this one job, not to carry on, after all. Can she?
She’s about to find out.
Didi gently sets aside the core, forcing herself to assess the full situation. If Dad taught her anything, it’s to look at a project as a completed work then figure out the details to get it running.
The panel that accesses his brain works, so he has backup systems that function. Good to know. It slides open, showing the gray matter under the dome of plasglass, pulsing softly on the inside. She grimaces, though she’s fascinated by the sight of a human brain. When the panel sighs shut, she slips around behind him, to the back of his neck where his main control panel lies.
The slot for his heart is a blackened sludge. She’ll have to clean that out, apparently, as disgusting as it is. Whatever damaged his fission chip has to have melted his organic heart. But, from what she can tell, the rest of his human parts are still intact.
A heart. Where is she going to get a heart?
She circles around him again, stares at him. He’s almost as tall as she is, and he’s sitting down, massive shoulders shining in the light. He’d be impressive on his feet. She’s only seen them in vids, of course, studied their schematics as part of the schooling Dad gave her. He always calls them a miracle, the gunslingers. How the creators managed to keep their hearts intact, their human brains… the cyborgs had just enough of their humanity remaining they weren’t quite machines, but had the capacity to do what needed to be done.
Didi agrees, standing there in the abandoned gunslinger graveyard as she hugs herself. This could work. But she can’t fix him here.
Which means she has to go home again after all. The thought makes her happy. She misses Pip, shakes her head at her own lack of confidence in her abilities. All that drama over leaving him behind. She has a viable plan now, knows—thinks she knows—it will work. Time to tell Pip, maybe, let him badger her. But she wants him with her, after all.
Didi pats the gunslinger’s hand and smiles at him.
“Be seeing you, my friend.” She exits, closes the door via the panel. Thinks again and replaces the cover, not sure why it’s important. Only that he’s hers now, as surely as Pip is. Hers. And she’s going to make him live again.
Humming to herself, Didi exits the bunker.
***
“Be… see…ing…you…” the words float in his head, wobbly and distorted, but he understands them. He’s felt her touch his mind, explore the place his heart used to be. She’s removed his chip, but his backup system will keep him safe for now.
At least, for the next twenty-four hours. Until the explosive charge in his chest goes off. He wonders if she’s aware she’s set his self-destruct sequence.
No matter. He will wait patiently for her return. Or he will die. Either way, he will be free.
***
Chapter Eleven
Didi stumbles the moment she steps foot outside the back exit of the cargo bay, feet slipping over the rubble beneath her feet.
“Well, blikey,” she snarls at herself, bending in half to turn on her deflectors. They hum to life again, snapping peevishly a moment, as though she’s woken them from a peaceful sleep. She rubs her banged knee with one hand, hating the sting and numbness that follows such a blow, hobbling forward into the trash.
The gunslinger’s chip is a dilemma, though she’s less concerned about it now than she had been at first. One step at a time, just like Dad taught her. And no blubbering over his being missing, not while she needs to focus on work. A heart. She’s had an idea about that, though part of her doesn’t want to consider how risky this undertaking might be. Still, it’s the only option open to her, outside murdering another person, something she’s not sure she’d be willing to do, even for Dad.
Then again, if she is backed into a corner and given no choice…
Head down, mind at work, she’s near the border, the glimmer of blue glass ahead, when someone grabs her arm and hauls her against his chest. And no choice becomes the center of her reality.
She doesn’t have to guess who has his hands on her, arm around her throat, pinning her body to his. How could she have been so distracted, so foolish as to just stomp her way through his territory without consideration? She knows better, but can’t think past the touch of his skin on hers. His foul breath brushes over her cheek, the vibration of his panting making her mouth guard hum. Or is that her own panic driving her heart to beat so fast she can’t breathe?
“Knew you’d come back,” Jackus whispers in her ear, filthy fingers stroking over her cheek, free hand wandering as his arm tightens, keeping her still by choke hold. Didi tries to cough, frozen in her fear, while Jackus feels his way over her shoulder and down her arm. “Knew you wanted it, Didi. Wanted me. Well, here I am, little girl. And here you are, too.”
Both of her hands are clamped on his arm, the one around her neck. She has no idea how they got there or why she’s not kicking the living snot out of him with her boots. It’s as though she’s outside herself, looking down at the slim girl with the goggles and black hair, pinned to the chest of her assailant and doing nothing to protect herself.
His lips brush over her face, her skin crawling from the contact. And, whether he’s taken her lack of resistance to this point as acquiescence or not, she’s most definitely not going to allow him to touch her like that ever again.
Ever. Again.
Didi meeps as one of her hands drops, terror driving the sound from her lips past the plas guard. She’s never been so afraid. It's a life-defining fear that teaches her a valuable lesson—while she might react instantly to some kinds of danger, this unfamiliar horror makes her stop in place and flutter inside like a trapped bird.
At least, the first time. As her anger grows—more at herself then Jackus, truth be told—her fingers dig into the lining of her jacket and press the trigger on her protections.
She’s seen enough vids to know what he wants of her, and can only guess what it would feel like. She has enough of an imagination she wants to throw up after scrubbing herself raw with cleanser.
At first nothing happens, her index finger mashing down on the button embedded in the liner of her jacket and her panic, once a living thing, roars into monstrous proportions, driving adrenaline through her body in spikes so powerful she convulses all at once, as though she’s the one attacked by the fine lines of threaded wire with which she’s lined her clothing. Jackus’s laugh is a bark of derision, turned to something like a whimper as the lashing of her body finally makes the connection required for her invention to activate.
She can feel it vaguely, the taser shock of the pulse racing through her clothing. But, the rubberized liner is enough to protect her, to keep her conscious and aware of the scent of singing hair, the deep, thrumming throb of his voice as Jackus loses control of his vocal cords. The way his body takes on its own dance while he herks and jerks over her, around her, until the charge runs out.
Didi spins, looks down at him as he collapses, eyes staring upward into the night. She’s killed him, he’s dead and she’ll be hung for it for sure, but she doesn’t care. She can harvest his heart for the gunslinger. That bloodthirsty thought comes to her without her bidding, chilling her blood, making her tingle all over with further shock. But she’ll do it, won’t she? If he’s dead.
When he groans, blinks slowly, she’s almost disappointed in a dispassionate, needful way. Her terror returns when he screams as the life retur
ns to his nerves.
She reacts, running through the trash, over the blue glass marker, onward toward home. Panting, a faint, animal whine rising from her chest, all the way, cutting the hour trek in half until she’s slamming through the front door and sealing it behind her without remembering how she made it there.
The safety system on the house shudders back to life when she slaps its casing.
“Didi!” Pip’s voice makes her scream, turn around to see him flying toward her. She waves him off, so he instead lands on a sheet of plas waiting to be stacked, staring down at her with his red cyborg eye whirling. “Where were you?”
She can’t respond, sick to her stomach, hating herself and her terror, wanting to curl up on the floor and just forget about Dad, about the gunslinger, all of it.
But she can’t. There’s no one but her and Dad needs her, doesn’t he? Unable to collapse as she wishes but also unable to speak, Didi leans against the door and sobs into her hands.
Her knees buckle at last, carrying her to the floor where she fights her tears. Claws dig into her shoulder, the whisper of feathers as Pip settles with her, sliding into her lap. Didi cuddles the crow in her arms, rocking him, while he hums the same song she remembers only vaguely.
The sound is soothing enough she is able to catch her breath, to scrub the tears and snot from her face, to draw her first deep, deliberate breath and squinch her face into a foul scowl of fury.
“Next time,” she says with venom, “I’ll make sure the charge kills the bastard.”
“Who?” Pip looks up, clacks his beak at her. “Didi, what happened and why did you leave me trapped here?”
She hesitates, despising the feeling of fear returning. How can she go back there? She’ll have to charge up her protections again, make sure the voltage is higher, the power pack fully engaged. That way his heart will stop and she’ll gladly go to the gallows.
Didi and the Gunslinger Page 6