by M. D. Cooper
Jason, Calista, and the twins were the only combatants in the group present tonight. Gladys was hell on wheels when it came to net infiltration, and Ben was an analytic wizard, but both would need looking after if a fight were to break out.
Jason sent a mental assent back to the laconic AI. He’d seen Logan in action; he wouldn’t bet against him—ever. His real concern, though, was that the table might be made up of Humanity Firsters.
As far as he was concerned, with those nutjobs, the elevator didn’t quite make it to the ring.
He waited to see what they’d do. They had to suspect that Gladys, at least, wasn’t human. Or if she was, she was so heavily modded that it wouldn’t matter to them.
Jason sent Calista a wink, which turned to a grin when she rolled her eyes at him.
“Hey, you.” The voice was rough, slurred.
Jason ignored it.
“I’m talkin’ to you,” the voice sneered, as a hand grabbed Jason’s shoulder and swung him roughly around to face its owner.
“We don’t serve her kind in here.” That from the thug next to the first speaker, as she thrust her face close to Jason’s.
Woman seriously needs a shower. And a lesson in dental hygiene.
And yes, there it was: the Humanity First symbol, tattooed across the first woman’s knuckles, and emblazoned on the cheekbone of one of the men who stood behind her. It hadn’t been easy to see over the feed, what with the other tats, assorted piercings, chains, and leatherwork garnishing the group.
Thug number two leered at Jason as she cracked her knuckles. “Well, aren’t you a pretty boy. Might could have some fun with you after we turn your tin can over there into a pretty green toaster.”
“Teal,” Jason heard Gladys mutter under her breath. “Dammit. Not green.”
Gladys’s comment caught Jason off-guard, and he had to fight for control over his inner hyena. No need to fan the flames by laughing in their faces. But damn. Gladys’s color commentary—pun intended—wasn’t helping any.
He spread his hands in a nonthreatening gesture as the thugs spread out around the table.
“Now friends, we’re just here to have a drink or two and enjoy ourselves.” Jason swallowed the laugh threatening to burst free and tried to imbue his voice with calm reason. “We’ll stay nice and quiet-like at this table. You’ll never know we’re here.”
“Those two over there tin cans, too?” The guy with the cheekbone tat leaned in between Ben and Logan, shooting them both an inebriated glare, and Jason’s grip on the inner hyena slipped ever so slightly.
Ben, mistaken for an AI. Jason fought to keep a straight face. Given how uptight his brother-in-law could be at times, and considering how expressive and human-like Landon could be….
Guess I can see where they’re coming from.
“Um, no….” Jason knew his voice sounded a bit strangled, and he cleared his throat when Ben stabbed him with a dark look.
Ben’s avatar scowled at him over the Link, and he heard Calista choke from her seat next to him.
Hairy Knuckles turned and glowered at Calista. “You think this is funny, girlie? Well, do ya?”
“No,” she replied faintly.
Guess I’m not the only one having a tough time with the ol’ hyena.
Maybe a good brawl was just what they needed.
Landon seemed to agree. The minute the guy with the cheekbone tat shoved Ben—hard—the AI stood.
“Ahh, what the hell,” Landon said under his breath, and then in one swift move, he slipped behind the leather-clad man. Clamping the thug's arm in a wristlock, he twisted it back at a pain-inducing angle and began frog-marching the man back to his table as he howled in distress.
That was all Dragon Breath needed. She reached behind her back and pulled out a pistol.
Whoa. No bringing a gun to a good, clean fistfight, ma’am.
Jason swiveled. With his enhanced reflexes, he knocked the weapon out of the attacker’s hand. He followed the swipe with a sharp forearm to her throat, careful to control the movement so that he only temporarily collapsed her windpipe instead of crushing it.
He nodded to the bouncer as the man scooped the pistol up off the floor and returned to his spot by the door. Satisfied he’d neutralized the only truly dangerous weapon, Jason turned back just in time to see Calista duck a chair the guy with the piercings swung at her, and then slap away the beer bottle follow-up. She sent him to the floor with a knee between the legs followed by a sharp uppercut to the jaw.
Daaang. That woman is seriously hot when she fights dirty.
Logan stayed seated at their table, calmly nursing his drink as the brawl progressed into an all-out melee, as other patrons joined in. One of the Humanity Firsters lunged for the AI, and Logan felled him with a simple thrust of his frame’s elbow into the solar plexus—all done mid-sip. A few seconds later, another went flying face-first as Logan casually swept a leg out, flattening the man as he rushed by.
Jason spared a glance her way. Yep, the petite AI had scooted to the back of the room, her eyes glued to the action. All she needed was a bag of popcorn to complete his mental picture.
He felt a small gust and glanced back in time to see a bar stool flying through the air—aimed at his head. Leveraging his superior reflexes, Jason swerved out of its path.
Following the stool’s trajectory, he snapped a hand out and redirected the flying furniture into the face of a thug who had slipped a pair of brass knuckles onto one hand and brandished a knife in the other.
The stool cracked the man’s nose wide open, spraying blood across a woman just behind him, who screamed as the spray hit her.
Yeah, that’s going to hurt.
He watched as Ben skirted a local trying to deck her neighbor with a vodka bottle—Jason would have to remember to tell Calista he’d spotted something other than beer here, after all—and met up with Gladys. Together, the two started toward the door.
Jason’s gaze swept over the brawling crowd, watching for anyone who might need a bit more encouragement to stay down. Hairy Knuckles was staggering to her feet, glaring malevolently at the back of Gladys’s head as she approached the door. The Humanity Firster charged toward the AI, drawing her hand back for a swing, and Jason caught a glint of metal.
Leaping over a stunned biker with ‘Mom’ tattooed across the back of his shaved head, Jason jerked an arm up to block the carbon blade Hairy Knuckles was about to throw. He grabbed the back of her shirt in his other hand, bunching up the fabric in his fist as he swung her around to face the bar. Shock showed briefly on her face before it plowed into the bartop, right next to the spot where Jason had planted his microdrone, and she slowly slid to the floor.
“Needed to retrieve this stuff anyway,” he said under his breath as he rested a hand briefly on the bar’s surface.
Seeing that the remainder of the team had slipped out to the street—and hearing sirens in the distance—Jason ducked one last time, danced two steps to his left t
o avoid a platter tossed like a discus, nodded to the bouncer who had remained stoically by the entrance the entire time, and left the building.
Toby is going to be so pissed he missed out on this.
Logan must have seen him step out of the bar, for as soon as his feet hit the street, the AI dropped him a pin with a rendezvous location.
Jason could see they would be on him before he had a chance to meet up with the rest of their group. Sparing a glance in the plas window of a shop as he passed, he ran a quick hand through his hair and reached down to grab the trailing edge of his torn shirt with the other hand.
Holding the ripped edges together, he paused and turned to gape at the gendarmes as they passed, just like everyone else on the street.
They made it to the maglev platform without further incident—if he ignored the looks and quiet snickers Gladys kept shooting at the four who had fought. Ben just sat there, alternately scowling and looking like he was about to pee his pants.
Yeah, analysts aren’t too big on the whole physical activity thing, he grinned to himself.
On the maglev back, his Link pinged; it was Esther. Jason looked around questioningly and received a series of nods. So it was a group chat.
Jason quirked a glance at Gladys. She hadn’t really sent the SIS the bill. Had she? Gladys met his eyes, then shrugged with a guilty look on her face.
Maybe Toby wouldn’t be that pissed after all. Esther’s tongue-lashings could strip paint off a bulkhead.
Jason checked the maglev’s schedule. They’d have to hustle to make it to the base that fast. He glanced at Calista, who gave him an ‘I told you so’ look, then winced, reaching up to touch her lip. He hadn’t realized it was split.
He queried her over a private connection.
He grinned back at her.
A GOOD SCOLDING
STELLAR DATE: 05.14.3189 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: SIS Headquarters, Tomlinson Base
REGION: El Dorado Ring, Alpha Centauri System
Jason scowled at Tobias’s comment as he walked over to a chair and slumped into it.
Had Tobias been human, his eyebrows would have risen higher and higher as he assessed each person’s state as they trooped in. Jason’s shirt was ripped down the front, and Calista—who nursed a now-healing split lip, he noted—seemed to have trouble focusing anywhere else.
Landon’s sleeve and possibly his frame’s epidermis—Tobias wasn’t sure—appeared to have been shredded from the elbow down. And Logan appeared to have an unidentified substance clinging to one shoulder, with chunks that had dribbled down the back of his jacket.
Then there was Ben. The AI chuckled mentally at the contrast. The analyst never seemed to have a hair out of place. According to Jason, Ben’s fastidiousness had earned him the moniker of ‘AI’ tonight…the spark that initiated the fight.
According to Jason.
< ’Wayward’, Tobe? Really?>
Tobias smirked at Jason’s disgruntled tone.
A holo projection of the vice-marshal shimmered into existence, the AI’s expression stern and disapproving.
Her avatar’s gaze shifted from face to face, making eye contact with each of them.
Gladys shifted at that, her face pained. Tobias knew this was a new and uncomfortable concept for the younger AI. She hadn’t been around as long as he and Esther, nor had she faced the kinds of horrors that AIs had experienced back in Sol. The concept of AI trafficking was still an uncomfortable one for her—as well it should be.
Esther’s avatar raised one brow, and her tone turned acerbic, dripping with sarcasm.
Tobias saw a hint of color stain Calista’s cheekbones. She sat up a bit straighter, her military training kicking in, causing her to unconsciously sit at attention in response to the vice-marshal’s tone.
The AI continued.
He saw Calista nod at that as Landon sent Jason a thumbs-up.
“Are we covert, then?” Landon asked Tobias. “Shall I stick with what I’m wearing now, or do you want me embedded in a combat frame instead?”
Tobias grinned.
If Landon harbored any concerns, his humanoid face hid them well. He just nodded as the group landed on a rendezvous time at the spaceport the next day for departure.
COMING CLEAN
STELLAR DATE: 05.12.3189 (Adjusted Gregorian)
LOCATION: Prime Minister’s Office, Parliament House
REGION: El Dorado Ring, Alpha Centauri System
“Mister Prime Minister, Terrance Enfield is here to see you.”
Terrance could feel the quiet hum of curiosity inside his head emanating from Eric; it mimicked his own as he followed on the heels of the aide, who ushered them into Lysander’s office.
Terrance strode toward the AI, hand outstretched. “Mister Prime Minister.”
“Hello, Terrance,” Lysander said warmly as he stepped forward, grasping Terrance’s hand in his own. “Thank you for coming. Eric,” he added, addressing the AI embedded in Terrance. “How are you?”
“Still trying to convince Terrance to stand up to that tyrant of a grandmother and let me hang around a bit longer,” the former space force officer responded audibly, as Lysander gestured Terrance into the room.
Terrance looked past Lysander and saw that the
AI had configured the room’s holotank to show the faces of Jason and Calista, and the avatars of Tobias and Shannon—the four members of Phantom Blade recently returned from Kepler. He had just enough time to wonder why Lysander had them on display before his gaze traveled beyond the holotank, and he saw the last person he expected to see: his grandmother, Sophia Enfield.
What is she doing here?
His hesitation was brief, but he had no doubt it had been picked up by her sharp eyes, and he silently berated himself for letting the tell slip out.
Eric’s mental
“ ‘Tyrant’, Eric?” Lysander said, and he turned to acknowledge the subject of their conversation with a nod. “Come now. Sophia is a formidable woman, but she’s certainly no martinet.”
Terrance was annoyed to note that his first reaction to finding Sophia Enfield with the Prime Minister was one of guilt. He wasn’t a schoolboy being brought to the principal’s office like some miscreant who had been caught in a teen prank, dammit.
So why do I feel like one?
A chuckle sounded in his mind.
Eric had served decades as a commodore in the ESF, but of late, he functioned as Esther’s second. If Esther was director of operations for their small team of operatives, then Eric was Phantom Blade’s tactical leader. The AI also, Terrance discovered, took a perverse pleasure in rattling his human every chance he could. Like now.