Implanted

by Lauren C Teffeau

  I hear what he’s not saying: it’s a long way to go with both Aventine and whoever they’ve recruited to help bring me in. I pull together a short message explaining how the scrubbing process works. With a clumsy eyecast command, I blink it on its way.

  Randall takes a deep breath. <
  >>Just in case, all right? Does that make you feel better?>> He doesn’t answer, which I take as a good sign. >>Then let’s get going.>> I force myself to stand and tap my temple. >>Implants from here on out, OK? We can’t risk being overheard.>>

  He gives me a grim nod. <
  Thirty minutes later, we reach Markley’s Terrace. Most elevated sections of the Terrestrial District are a weird mix of platforms and scaffolding that scale the facades of buildings, multiplying the space available for living areas and businesses. Neighborhoods like this are often afterthoughts, cobbled together in the last decade once people realized room was running out in the upper levels. But they look down on the Terrestrial District, often blocking whatever light makes its way here, putting them in high demand.

  A set of escalators brings us to a sleepy section suspended over the throughway below. We’re a couple of levels below the office I completed the data transaction for on my walkabout. The apartment where Tahir said I’d be able to find the scrubbing kit is above a half-empty Middle Eastern restaurant. >>That’s it. Should be in Room 207.>>

  Randall frowns as he inspects the building. <
  >>Maybe we caught a break.>>

  The neighborhood is quiet, he’s right about that much. But I can’t let that deter us, not when the kit’s so close to being ours. The quiet persists as we go up to the second floor, but it only feels sinister because Randall pointed it out. At least that’s what I tell myself.

  I make quick work of the door lock. Randall surveys the tiny apartment, empty and ready for a new tenant. I don’t want to think about how many credits Aventine’s burned keeping this space available.

  “Check the cabinets. We’re looking for a briefcase of sorts.” Disappointed it’s not immediately visible, I wander toward the small bathroom off the main living space. Thankfully, the scrubbing kit’s wedged underneath the sink. I pry it out, relishing its familiar weight. I’m never going to let it go.

  <
  >>Just a sec.>>

  A nagging sensation from my connection with Rik almost distracts me from a soft grunt from the other room. “Emery.” Randall’s tone raises the hairs on my arms. I retrace my steps and find him immobilized in an expert hold that’s only a few degrees away from dislocating his shoulder, a cut over his left cheek.

  All courtesy of Kat.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Part of me is happy to see her. But then I remember the way we left things, her refusal to talk to me, and now this, both of us on opposite sides of Aventine. The scrubbing kit in my hand suddenly weighs a hundred pounds, shackling me to this room.

  Kat watches me expectantly. “Emery, huh? Such a pretty name.”

  “Let him go, Kat. Please.”

  She cranks Randall’s arm higher. He winces. “Is he the one who forced you to go on the run?”

  “No. He has nothing to do with this.”

  She clucks her tongue. “Not nothing. He knows your real name. That makes him rather special, doesn’t it?” She shakes her head, suddenly serious. “You should’ve come in, M, and none of this would’ve happened.”

  She makes it sound like this is all my fault when I’ve done everything in my power to do right by the data I’ve been entrusted with. “What I’m carrying? It’s bigger than Aventine.” I take another step toward her. I’m two arms’ lengths away, with more maneuvering room than where she’s backed up against the kitchen counter. Not that that’s ever helped me in the past. “Whatever they told you, it’s not true, I swear it.”

  She wrenches Randall’s arm again for good measure, then shoves him away from her so she can face me head on. “You broke the rules.”

  “Yes, but I would’ve died if I didn’t.”

  She flinches, covering almost immediately as Randall gingerly rotates his arm.

  >>You OK?>>

  He grimaces. <
  I’ll take it. “Can we talk?” I ask Kat. I tap my temple. “Alone?”

  Her posture relaxes fractionally. “This whole sector’s been spotty with network outages of late. Didn’t you know?” She gives me a wink, and for a moment it’s just like old times. “But I can’t guarantee they don’t have other ways they can listen in,” she says with a significant glance to our surroundings. It’s an Aventine safe house, after all.

  Better make this quick then. >>I was set up from the beginning. A special job for one of Dash’s clients who couldn’t wait for him to recover.>>

  At the mention of Dash’s ordeal, her lips flatten. Still upset, but at least she’s listening to me. <
  >>I don’t know. But I am the most junior courier.>>

  <
  >>I don’t know. But clearly whoever did this had tabs on our internal processes somehow.>>

  <
  >>Or is that just what Harding tells us?>> She grimaces. >>He gave me this assignment, Kat. And now he’s the one who sent you after me, right?>>

  <
  >>You’re not wrong, but I still need to see this blood through.>>

  <
  >>And whoever did this is probably counting on that. That’s why I can’t come in, Kat, not yet.>>

  She throws up her hands. <
  >>I don’t know.>> I really don’t. I’m figuring this shit out as I go, praying I’m not making things worse. >>If there was any other way…>> I’m the biggest hypocrite, expecting her to stray from the company line when I took her out when Dash needed her most.

  Kat puts her hands on her hips, the look in her eyes contrary and calculating at the same time. <
  >>He… He’s the one I told you about, the one I left behind. He’s helped me, when no one else could.>>

  Lips pressed together, Kat’s face closes up so I can’t tell what she thinks about Randall, the situation, or what’s going to happen next.

  She rolls back her shoulders. Unease trickles down my spine as she takes a step to my left. Automatically, I hand the case off to Randall, mirroring her movements like it’s sparring practice all over again.

  “I’ve always enjoyed fighting you, Emery, but you’ve never been very good at offense.”

  Why bother when she can lay me out at a second’s notice. She flinches toward me, and I dart back, sluggish in my movements. Too close to the full onset of the curdle.

  <
  Randall tenses, unsure whether to defend me against her or not. I wave him off. >>It’s OK. At least I think it will be,>> I tell him.

  She circles around again. <
  I almost stumble. >>Kat, I don’t know how to thank you.>>

  She shrugs. <
  >>I will.>>

  She comes at me again, just like practice, but this time when I strike out, I make contact with her midsection. I follow up with a punch to
her jaw she makes no move to counter. Hard enough to knock her out. When she collapses to the floor, she stays there.

  I can’t tell if she’s faking or not. The impulse to check on her wars with the clawing need to get out of here. Now. I point Randall to the door, and hastily we rush down the stairs and back onto the walkway. He hands over the scrubbing kit for safekeeping in my satchel.

  <
  >>We need to find a way to the Echelon.>> I consciously shake off the sensation of being watched. Even if the backup team’s not closing in, thanks to Kat, knowing Harding sicced some of the other couriers on me isn’t remotely encouraging. Aventine’s bound to be watching the lifts and trains too. I close my eyes momentarily and focus on the sector map my implant projects into my field of vision. >>We’ll take the Fairmont Stairs.>>

  <
  >>Nope. It’s not well patrolled, and they haven’t fully updated the cameras there.>> It helps that it’s shaded in yellow on my Aventine map too.

  <
  >>Better them than the police.>> Or Aventine.

  <
  >>Doesn’t matter.>>

  <
  >>All right. We can afford a break.>> A maintenance hatch isn’t too far away. >>Come on.>> I position Randall so his bulk blocks me from view as I get to work. It takes longer than I’d like to override the lock.

  <
  >>You ever wonder where all the cleaning bots go when they aren’t cleaning?>> This one’s small, with only a few older bots charging along the wall. The dedicated trash chute stinks, but enough cleaning fluid scents the air to make it bearable.

  I back Randall onto a small cabinet full of supplies and replacement parts for the robots. “Let me take a look.” He tips his head back. The good news is the blood’s mostly dried, only giving me a small wrench of unease as I look him over. Kat got him good. His cheek’s already starting to swell. I rustle around in my satchel and pull out a wound-heal patch. I use the edge of the bandage to wipe away what blood I can, then smooth the patch over his face.

  He winces, and I catch a bit of pain reverberating through our connection, but he remains still until the patch has set. “Should be all right in a half hour.”

  I step back, but he captures my wrist. Rusty brown blood stains the fingers of both of our gloves.

  “Where’d you get all this stuff?”

  “Standard Aventine complement.”

  “They think of everything.”

  “Never had to use most of it. Until now.”

  His thumb swoops under the edge of my glove and across the inside of my wrist. “I’m glad for that.”

  “Yes, well, not all couriers are so lucky. One girl busted open her knee when she fell on a crowded concourse during rush hour. Another had to deal with a compromised exchange. They roughed him up before a protection detail could reach him,” I say, thinking of Dash’s ordeal.

  “But the way you talk about it… And earlier, seeing you fight those assholes in the Bower. You like it.”

  I shrug off the accusation in his voice. “I do. Whatever else Aventine’s done, they’ve given me that much.”

  “Given you? From what I’ve seen, they’ve taken practically everything from you and somehow managed to convince you you’re better off for it.”

  “That’s not true. They also kept me out of jail.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I gesture to my scar. “The guy who did this to me? I did everything I could to hunt him down when the police gave up looking for him. I targeted scrappers operating throughout the Terrestrial District, hoping to find him… I never did, but I helped put others behind bars.”

  “Liv…” I want to strangle the sympathy out of his voice.

  “I’d do it again, too. Even knowing what happens. Sorry if that destroys your idealized image of me, but better you find out now.” He doesn’t flinch away, mentally or physically, and my defiance fizzles out. “Anyway, Aventine found out and decided I fit the profile. Tahir even helped close my cold case.” A hot wave of hatred shudders through me. Still. Even knowing my attacker’s been punished for what he’s done. “Then Aventine continued to build on my skills and experience, making me into the monster I am today.”

  “You’re not a monster.” Randall watches my face for a long moment. “They blackmailed you.”

  I shrug. “I never had a choice. It was either do the job and try to enjoy it, or do the job and be miserable. And just hope when my ten years of service was up, I’d earned enough credits to retire in peace.”

  “Did you think you could just walk back into our lives?”

  “No, but what else could I have done? I had no one.” He drops my hand. “I had to start over, and I’ve tried to make the best of it.” I don’t know what else to say to make him understand.

  He processes my words, his face unnaturally still, but between the emotions that swirl around his eyes and the slight tension along our connection, I know looks can be deceiving.

  “If it helps, I wanted to reach out to you. I even set up an alias in a stupid plan to send you a message through your arcade account, but I chickened out. I hoped–” I cut myself off at the spike in our connection.

  “I haven’t logged any time at the arcade since… you know. But that day in the Understory. You still pushed me away.”

  The “why?” is implied, demanding an answer.

  “You didn’t deserve to be chained to a data vampire who’s better off dead. I might have to live with Aventine’s restrictions, but you don’t.”

  “What will you do when this is all over?” he finally asks.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Will you still be a courier?”

  I snort. “I doubt I’ll have a choice. Things’ll get cleared up one way or another like Tahir said. And with all the time left on my contract, Aventine’ll figure out a way to put me to use.”

  “I don’t want you putting yourself in danger.”

  “What you want doesn’t matter. Besides, you’re a fine one to complain about danger when you’re mixed up in some kind of conspiracy with the Disconnects.” Geeta’s words come crashing back down. Randall must feel some of it, because he gives me a questioning look. “So much so, you considered becoming one of them.”

  I touch his neck, the shadow of his implant. With my fingertips at first, then the whole of my hand. Randall’s pulse speeds up. The urge to bolt warring with the desperate desire to lean into my touch. “You wanted to get rid of it.” Of me, my mind shouts.

  He doesn’t deny it, and that somehow makes everything worse. “Liv, when you were gone…”

  He cut himself off from his contacts, stopped going to the arcade, and threw himself even deeper into the Disconnect cause. All because of me.

  “You were supposed to go on, live your life, not…” Obsolesce and roll back to a cruder version of himself.

  He turns into my hand and presses his face against my gloved palm and inhales. “I thought if you weren’t coming back, it wasn’t worth being connected. I couldn’t imagine sharing my mind with anyone else. Once I realized that, everything about implants seemed unnecessary. I wanted a clean start. Maybe that way I could…”

  I bite my lip. “And what do you think now?”

  He eases up on his emotional damper. Too many feelings rush in to identify them all, but I recognize enough of them. “You already know how I feel.”

  What we both feel. And it still hasn’t changed despite everything. I tremble, sweat beading across my brow.

  He takes both of my forearms in his hands. “Are you OK?”

  “Yeah, just give me a sec.” I close my eyes and plead with my body to hang on. Just a little bit longer. The tremors gradually subside, but my brow’s still clammy.

>   Randall watches me patiently. Then he raises his right hand. An offering. A promise. Just like before, except this time Aventine doesn’t stand in the way.

  All I have to do is reach out and–

  My stomach wrenches, and I bolt to the other end of the room. Vomit – bile streaked with blood – coats the floor. I run a shaky hand over my face. But I feel better. Marginally.

  “Not quite the reaction I was hoping for.” Rik comes up behind me and gives my shoulder a squeeze. Then he sees the mess. “Shit, Liv. How can you still function?”

  “Because I have to.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The Fairmont Stairs beckon beyond a shuttered restaurant and a consignment shop in one of the earliest sections of New Worth. Now it’s a rundown relic, from a time when movement between levels was welcomed before society grew so striated by elevation and entrenched in status. Left behind in New Worth’s march toward progress.

  My joints complain with each step, but Rik’s moving with the same ease he had when we started. Unlike access stairs, the Fairmont Stairs are open to the city. So you can look up and marvel at the buildings all around you. Must have been something at the time it was first built, but now dirt and grime mar the once-pristine surfaces. Air scrubber residue coats one building, leaking from the ledges like a runny nose. Handrails are worn down to nubs at the landings. Back in the day, this was a place to see and be seen, the stairs folding back over themselves as you go up, like an MC Escher print. Now it’s a path through New Worth for those who can’t afford the nominal train fees. A haven for Disconnects and criminals alike.

  For us, it’s simply a means to an end. And thankfully, the end’s almost in sight.

  Rik glances down at me and frowns. <
  I lean back, my head thumping against concrete. >>We’re nearly there.>>

  Rik doesn’t answer, his gaze turned back the way we came. No, Randall. It’s getting harder to keep them separate. He swears. Then he shares with me the feed from his ocular boost, already trained on a figure near the bottom of the Stairs, moving too fast to be a typical New Worthian. He’s built like my tail from the Aquarium. All muscle and thinly disguised body armor. Could be one of Diego’s new recruits or a member of the client’s security team, but either way, there’s guaranteed to be more of them.