Zeroice’s head popped up. He regarded her for a second. His upper lip twitched with a nervous tic. “Okay. I’m listening.”
areful not to step on any unidentifiable stains on the dark green rug, Maya wandered around in an approximate circle while Zeroice tinkered with his rigs. He’d rambled about cobbling together a bit of net code to act as a software bridge. The mother of all ideas seemed to strike him out of nowhere soon after, and he pounced on his hardware.
In seconds, the man went motionless, gazing into nowhere.
“Hello?” asked Maya, creeping closer. When he didn’t react, she reached out and poked him on the arm. “Hey. Are you still alive?”
She couldn’t tell if he ignored her or if his consciousness had gone down the wires plugged into the back of his neck. He showed no awareness of his surroundings, or her shouting at him. Maya sighed, unsure what she should do with herself or how long to wait here hoping this man did something to help her. She frowned at the disgusting room. Neither the bed, the one other chair, the shelf by the window, or anything within fifteen feet of the bathroom looked safe to touch.
A small black box on a little table next to the bed projected green digital numbers when she waved her hand over it, announcing its opinion of the time at 11:48 p.m. Maya yawned. She hovered on the balls of her feet to minimize contact with the rug. Her mind ran away with the imagined army of viruses and germs crawling over her toes.
“Shoes,” said Maya to her feet. “I’d even wear those stupid heels in here.”
Zeroice muttered, shook his head as though clearing a fog, and looked back at her. His left eye clamped shut while his right couldn’t have been open any wider. “Did you say something?”
“I want shoes.”
He rubbed his face. “Nothing’s open at this hour. Sack out, we can go somewhere in the morning.”
She thought it over. “I don’t want to waste more time. Is your program ready?”
“Yeah. You’ll need to open the door for me though, in a manner of speaking.” He scribbled on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. “Put that address on a net crawler.”
Maya glanced down at the note: 00FC.18D4.98A0.0153
On the reverse: ‘Headcrash is fucked in the head.’
“Yeah. He was,” mumbled Maya.
Zeroice drummed his fingers on the desk. “So where is he? I haven’t seen any sign of his mottled ass since he said he got this big job.”
Maya folded the paper up and tucked it into the doll’s dress. She took a breath, held it, and let it out slow. “He got shot a few times and fell fifty stories. I don’t think he made it.”
“Oh.” Zeroice sighed. “Dude was weird but not a bad guy.”
“Yeah.” She started to feel a little sorry for him, but chased it away. The man had willingly taken part in a plot to kidnap and kill her. Even if he showed a little kindness, she could only feel so much sympathy for a man who decided it acceptable for a nine-year-old to die as a political statement. “Not bad for a guy who wanted to murder me, I guess.”
He cringed. “Okay, so rush mode.”
“Yes please. I want to get out of this room before I catch whatever’s living in the rug.”
“Right.” He turned back to the machines and reached for a plug. “I’m going in again. I’ll hack an e-car and pull it up outside. You said Ascendant tower, right?”
“Near it.” She hurried over to the patch of linoleum by the door. “It’s an apartment building two miles south on 60th Street. You’ll probably be able to figure out which one because it’s on the patrol path for Ascendant-owned drones.”
Zeroice snapped the wire into the socket behind his ear and sagged back in the chair as though he’d had a stroke. Maya fidgeted in place, shifting her weight back and forth from leg to leg. About four minutes later, the glare of headlights passed over the windows and lit up the dingy curtains. Maya opened the door and peeked out at a boxy silver e-car with tiny wheels and no people in it.
She crept out of the room, pulled the door closed, and looked around. Confident no one watched her, she ran to the little car and crawled in. The instant she pulled the door closed, the self-driving taxi lurched into reverse. She yelped in surprise, holding onto the dashboard until the car finished swerving its way out of the parking lot and drove in a calm, straight line along the road. Maya slid down to the floor in front of the seat. Better no one see her at all. Curled up in the space where a person’s legs should be, she waited. Fatigue threatened to pull her to sleep while anxiety kept it at bay. Battling exhaustion made worse by the mesmerizing thrum of the e-motors, she picked at tiny rubber nubs in the floor mat. Every few seconds, a band of streetlamp light pulsed over the cabin.
Her body slid around with every turn, acceleration, or slowdown. She clung to the hope that her appeal to a hacker’s need for a once-in-a-lifetime chance worked. Riding blind in a car driven by a man she’d known for fifteen minutes could go wrong in so many ways she tried not to think about it. Vanessa would never have taken a risk like that. That bitch also thought her too-compassionate daughter too timid to do anything of the sort, but she didn’t have a choice. In truth, she feared losing her real mother more than anything bad happening to her.
This close to finding Genna, she couldn’t stop fidgeting. She wondered what Sarah was doing at that moment, then felt stupid. Duh. She’s asleep. It’s past midnight. Again, she thought of the unfinished Magic game and hoped that her friend hadn’t given up and put the cards away. Did she leave them set up in hopes Maya would come back?
“I’m sorry, Sarah,” she whispered. “I should’ve told you. Please don’t be scared.”
Tears patted on the floor mat.
Her crying petered out to a forlorn, silent stare by the time the car came to a full stop a few minutes later. The audio system emitted a series of odd chirping noises like someone turning it on and off as fast as possible. She popped up and peered over the door. A cavernous parking deck with pure white walls surrounded her. Silver letters spelled ‘Ascendant’ here and there along a thick cyan band that circled the chamber. Only six cars remained at this hour, two of which belonged to Vanessa. A twinge of sick danced in her gut at the sight of the $200,000 onyx monstrosity. Bad enough people died so she could buy it, the woman barely used it.
She crawled from the floor to the seat of the little box-on-wheels and looked at the building entrance not too far away. Zeroice had been considerate enough to park her right next to the elevator. With any luck, the security detail would be sleepy as usual. Maya eased the door open and ran to the elevator. The grubby, frazzled urchin staring back at her from the mirror-polished doors was a far cry from the lying monster floating all over the city, and she didn’t much mind the new version of Maya.
As soon as she pushed the button, the twin slabs of steel slid sideways, releasing a blast of cold pine-scented air that fell over her, causing a shiver. She darted in and reached up to the penthouse symbol. The system chirped when her fingertip made contact, and the doors whooshed shut.
“Restricted access,” said an electronic female voice. “You have five seconds to confirm identity.”
Maya stood on tiptoe, held on to the wall, and put her eye in front of the scanner. It emitted a painful flash of amber light, then a pleasant chirp. She backed up, one hand over her right eye, cringing from the brightness.
“Good morning, Maya,” said the same voice. “You are up past your bedtime.”
“I know. I’ll do two extra e-learns if you don’t tell Vanessa.”
The elevator got underway, making her feel heavier. “Three.”
“Three?” She gasped. “But that will take me all day. I won’t have any time to play.”
“Would you prefer I notify your mother that you are not only awake at this hour, you were outside?”
“Okay, fine.” She added fake sullenness to her voice. The building AI would’ve suspected something wrong if she didn’t put up a fight.
When the doors opened, she forgot how
to breathe. Her old home looked pristine, as though nothing whatsoever had happened. Before the AI could prod her, she walked in over soft beige carpet. As usual, the air-conditioning ran at an economic seventy degrees, but having spent a week without any AC, the place felt chilly. She hurried deeper into the apartment and glanced around.
The main living area glowed eerie in the ambient light from the city outside. The long white sectional couch, flat-panel television bigger than some cars, and a quarter of a million dollars of furniture showed no sign of any violence. Gunfire and flashes replayed in her mind. Moth had fired his giant cannon at people in this room. Not even one carpet fiber looked out of place.
She bit her lip. Had it really happened? Would she get back to her old bedroom and realize the entire thing had been a dream? The plush carpet warmed her feet as she walked nearer the window and peered out at the roof deck. No sign of an Authority helicopter, blood, spent bullets, or any damage met her gaze. The routine of kneeling in that spot while watching the twilight sky for any sign of ‘Mother’ coming home brought a bitter glower. She wouldn’t let herself cry one more tear over that awful woman. A somber sigh painted a blotch of fog on the glass, hiding her reflected face. After a moment, she turned away.
The sudden whine of a drone startled her paralyzed. A three-fanned Ascendant security unit cruised around the left corner of the building. She prepared to jump back, but it already noticed her and its cannon pointed straight at her chest. Maya went rigid at attention and let the doll slip from her fingers; it plopped on the floor, synthetic hair tickling her calf.
Maya shivered, staring straight ahead. Please recognize me.
A grid of green laser light covered her. The scan felt like it took longer than it should. She couldn’t stop trembling. One bullet from that enormous cannon would… she didn’t even want to think about it. She raised her hands in a slow gesture of surrender and pulled her wild hair back from her face. Emerald glint flickered past her eyes. The drone emitted a pleasant beep and resumed its patrol circuit.
Maya fell to all fours with a hand on her stomach. Had there been any food in her, it would’ve been on the rug. In minutes, she shook off the fear and found a surge of confidence in that Vanessa hadn’t disowned her or marked her as a criminal. One good thing had come from such extreme disinterest. The woman genuinely did not care one way or the other if her daughter was home, dead, missing, or plotting against her.
Fighting off the yawns, she ran across the living room and down the hall to the bathroom. She peeled off the tee shirt and nightdress, stuffing them into the automatic washing machine before climbing into the bathtub. As much as she wanted to soak and enjoy freedom from all the ick she’d collected in that horrible hotel, she washed herself with a focus on speed instead of comfort. When she finished with the soap, she scooted to the back end of the tub, leaned her head into the hair machine, and let it work.
The automatic shampooer would take about ten minutes to finish, so she allowed herself that time to soak and relax. When the dryer stopped, Maya got out of the tub, careful to keep her hair from getting wet, and dried off. After stuffing the towel into the laundry slot, she started to walk to her old bedroom, but froze in the middle of the corridor. The spot where Moth had punched a blueberry so hard the man had embedded in the wall appeared undamaged.
She looked down at herself, noting small bruises, nicks and scrapes from spending a week running around outside in a nightdress. That couldn’t be fake… could it? Freaked and angry, she stared at the rug, the wall, the corner molding. Her heart fluttered at a smudge of dried blood in a gap in the parquet floor lining either side of the carpet strip. She crouched and touched it, lifting her hand to examine the tiny flecks of dark crimson on her fingertip.
It really happened.
Maya ran to her bedroom closet and flung the doors open. Rows of small fancy dresses and high-heeled shoes greeted her. She slipped on underpants and grabbed a pair of black leggings before crawling into the oversized beige sweater she’d worn the day they abducted her. Alas, she owned not one pair of practical shoes. The only time she bothered with footwear was on the set of a commercial, or if she got dragged off to some PR dinner. Even for the rare occasion Vanessa allowed her to go shopping, they expected her to dress to the nines. No such thing as sweats and sneakers for the daughter of the Ascendant CEO.
Maya fumed, fighting back the urge to take every last fancy piece of clothing and throw it in the trash. “You never wanted a daughter,” she whispered. “You wanted a prop.”
Her need to be with Genna grew painful, but sorrow didn’t survive long before anger took its place. Not-Mom had built her entire empire on the misery of people like Ashley, and Maya wanted no part of it anymore. I don’t care what Vanessa thinks of me. I hate her.
After a moment of glaring, she got an idea. Maybe she could help Genna escape in a more direct manner. First, she had to find her. Maya pulled a small bag off a shelf and dropped it at her feet. The floppy nylon thing reminded her of a smaller version of the sack Genna had used to kidnap her. She couldn’t fit inside this one―too small―but it would hold what she needed. She selected a glimmering teal dress with metallic sheen and packed it. Matching high-heeled shoes followed. She debated hose, but skipped them. Too hard to put on outside, and the blueberries wouldn’t think it strange for her to have bare legs with a dress like that… if they even noticed. Only one of not-Mom’s aesthetic technicians would. She wouldn’t exactly have to deal with Felipe the perfectionist keeping her on the makeup chair for two hours for this performance. If everything worked, she’d never see the idiot again.
She packed another ten pairs of underwear, two sweaters, and her other three sets of leggings before heading down the hall to Vanessa’s room. The woman didn’t keep much here. Her closet had two suits, one with a skirt and one with slacks, yet more high heels, and a shelf with some underthings. She cringed. Vanessa had the same twig-thin build as Maya. Genna had shape. Nothing here for Mom.
Grumbling, she plodded back to her room, dropped the bag at the foot of her bed, and put the doll in it. A few minutes of rummaging around the desk unearthed a small digital recorder. She padded out into the corridor and approached the terminal on the wall. Like a gunslinger preparing to draw, she stared at the slow-blinking red light, wondering if this would be the one time out hundreds of tries the woman would answer. Of course she wouldn’t.
“Maya,” she said.
“Voiceprint recognized. You shouldn’t be awake this early. Please return to bed.”
“Outbound call, Vanessa Oman.”
She held the recorder up and pushed the button.
“This is the private vid-mail inbox for Vanessa Oman, CEO of Ascendant Technologies. If you have the necessary clearance to contact this number, leave a message. Otherwise, please disconnect this call and await the arrival of Authority Officers.”
“Begin message,” said a digital one.
Maya poked the end-call button. She walked to the kitchen, set the recorder on the table, and popped a Hydra tray in the machine. While it processed, she ran back to her bedroom and retrieved her personal computer. The well-worn silvery grey portable had kept her in other worlds for many hours. When she returned to the kitchen, the smell of something vaguely resembling beef had filled the air. She never thought she’d be so happy to have a rehydrated meal, but breathing the essence of it got her salivating.
She stood on tiptoe to reach into the Hydra, pinched the thin plastic at the edges of the hexagonal packet, and carried the steaming meal to the table. Maya ate one handed while linking the recorder to the terminal and splicing Vanessa’s mailbox announcement to pieces. She devoured most of the meat and half of the beans before attacking the brownie in the middle.
A dot on the screen flashed from yellow to green. Maya picked up the recorder and hit the play button.
“Clearance. Vanessa Oman. CEO. Authorize.”
She smiled. Creating ‘authorize’ out of ‘Authority’ and ‘otherwise
’ took a little fiddling to make it sound right, but it worked. Her finger traced around well-worn keys as she pondered packing the computer as well. It had provided an escape into video games or movies as much as it burdened her with the drudgery of e-learns. If she could get Genna out of prison, she wouldn’t need an escape from reality. She much preferred a real parent to a virtual paradise.
One finger to the power button turned it off.
“Nah.”
Two steps later, she stopped. I really should stop being stupid. She sighed under the weight of guilt at not telling Sarah of her plan and grabbed the computer. This is a tool. I might need it.
After packing the portable computer in her bag, she spun the recorder on the table and flashed a broad grin.
he door to Vanessa’s office was locked as expected. Maya didn’t even try to use the access panel as the AI would surely lose its electronic mind if she did something so out of routine. In Vanessa’s bedroom, she struggled and strained to drag a table six feet left to position it under an air vent. Once it looked good, she put a chair up on top of it and climbed.
Fortunately, Vanessa, or whoever had designed this place, had put all their security concerns on keeping people who didn’t belong here out of the penthouse. A private office inside the apartment wasn’t as protected from someone already inside. Compared to the thirteen-story nightmare ladder and a drone flight, standing on a chair on top of a table didn’t even register as risky. She plucked the vent cover off and pulled herself up and in. Her fingers went numb within seconds of crawling into the blast of AC. The duct took a ninety-degree right two feet away from the opening.
Steel walls bucked and boomed as she shimmed along the narrow confines. Another reason she didn’t worry about alarms or anything―an adult couldn’t fit in there. A short crawl brought her to a left turn, and a few feet farther, a spar that carried cold air to Vanessa’s private office. She had one in every location she considered a possible home, though Maya couldn’t remember the woman ever using this one. Come to think of it, she couldn’t even say for sure that Vanessa had ever spent more than four hours in this penthouse over the entire nine years she’d lived here.
Heir Ascendant (Faded Skies Book 1) Page 31