In seconds, the rush of the drug filled her body with an excess of energy. Her limbs twitched with an overabundance of vigor. She faced the brick and poked the button, starting the countdown. Garrison’s image disintegrated as she sprinted out of the chamber. The path in had been a touch over a mile, a distance she could do in five minutes with some spare seconds, less with the drug.
Risa ran for three minutes, until motion up ahead caused her to skid to a halt on her heels. Rag-clad children filtered out of side shafts. Grubby and thin, they stared at her with wide, curious eyes. Fourteen small figures shimmered in the eerie glow of portable lanterns held aloft.
They live down here.
A gaunt little Marsborn girl with raven black hair down to her waist, maybe six years old, emerged from the front of the group. She wore a man’s expensive business shirt repurposed into a dress, with the sleeves torn off. Dirt smeared her legs. The child offered a bashful smirk at the ground while digging her toes into the silt. As pale as snow, she looked like a tiny version of Risa.
The girl flashed a timid smile and waved. “Hi.”
Risa looked over her shoulder, back the way she’d come. “Oh…” Shit.
nnocent blue eyes widened, glimmering in the weak light of a dozen lanterns. The little girl tilted her head, seeming perplexed at what could put such a terrified expression on Risa’s face.
“I’m Kree,” said the girl. “What’s your name?”
In the back of Risa’s mind, the sound of her father’s last scream filled the cave. Imaginary flames belched from three surrounding passages, engulfing the group of children. The oldest boy didn’t yet need to shave. The drug kept her muscles twitching, giving her more energy than she could burn. She’d wasted two seconds.
“No,” she rasped.
Risa whirled away with tears threatening to choke her. Boots crunched the loose dirt and gravel, each footfall reverberating in her body. She hadn’t used her speedware on the way out, but she’d felt confident in her margin of error. Dust particles froze motionless in midair as her new wiring sprang to life. Between the neuralware and the performance-enhancing chem, her body moved fast enough to blur the world into a smear. She pumped her arms and tried to pace her breathing.
Up until that instant, everything had been under control. Seven minutes would have left her safe in the city, perhaps even far enough away to avoid the pelting of stones and dust that would erupt into the open square. Risa skidded through the first chamber, launching herself haphazardly over hunks of ancient machinery because she couldn’t turn fast enough to go around them. Her speed and the loose ground conspired to send her stumbling into the wall.
Her hands slapped the rock, stunned numb; she shoved herself away with too much force and flailed in an effort not to fall. The air in her lungs burned, dusty grit scraped the inside of her throat with every breath. Her ballistic suit squished, sliding back and forth over sweat-soaked skin.
Time shifted between dragging and racing. Small digits floated at the periphery of her vision. Awareness of rhythmic flickers lurked at the edges of her overworked mind. Shapes changed in the corner of her eyesight, but in its current state, her brain refused to ascribe any meaning to them. Fire shrouded the edges of her thoughts, riding a wave of insurmountable guilt. How could her people not have known there were orphans in these old tunnels? Why hadn’t she checked?
If I kill those children, I deserve to go with them.
Dread and panic washed over her in equal parts as she arrived at the top of the final downhill stretch to where she planted the bomb. Risa rushed the straightaway, speedware jacked as high as she could push it. The Usagi-3 left her feeling elated and exhausted, an insomniac after a week of no sleep. Her NSK wiring hurt her in new ways. The wires did not heat as much, but the strain they forced into her muscles tore at her bones. Rocks and tunnel passed in a smear of brick red and grey. She skidded in an effort to slow down before she smashed herself into the stone column. Despite her effort, she ran into it hard enough to bounce away and fall on her ass, staring up at the brick-sized device. The bomb she had planted with such righteousness upon the column was no longer an avenging blade―it had become a devouring evil.
She blinked and sprang to her feet. Fingers traced over the surface, activating the holographic terminal. In her accelerated state, each line and pixel unfurled in excruciating detail. The timer appeared last. Four-inch-tall numbers traced into view, reading: 00:04.
Risa’s finger pierced the intangible rectangle through the word ‘abort.’ The timer dropped to 00:03 as the button expanded into the form of a keypad. In two-tenths of a second, she keyed in the sequence she’d programmed in six minutes and fifty-seven seconds ago, the date Garrison found her: 09082401. Traces of green filled in around the numbers. As the beautiful words ‘abort confirmed’ formed in the panel of light, she shut down her speedware.
Fatigue hit her with the weight of a lead apron. She slid down the pillar and curled up at the base, leaning against the rock. Patches of sweat shifted under the tight suit, but she made no effort to move against gravity’s wishes. The expectation of agony came and went, replaced with gratitude and awe at the quality of the speedware Pavo had obtained for her. Rather than muscles full of burning wires she could not escape, her body ached as though an entire kung-fu studio had used her as a target dummy.
Minutes passed, harsh, rapid breaths her only companion. Realization dawned that she had missed an opportunity to strike back at one of the men who had caused her father’s death. Soon, he would leave the facility above her and vanish back into the murk of conspiracy. That little girl’s curious face appeared in her mind wearing the same perplexed expression.
I can’t do it. My revenge is not worth this.
Aching arms wrapped around her right leg, drawing her knee to her forehead.
“I’m sorry, Dad.”
Risa’s eyes shot open as the familiar touch glided down her back. The warmth spread around her as if an ethereal arm wrapped her in a comforting embrace. She could not stop herself from crying as the presence engulfed her, riding on tingling nerves.
Revenge is murder cloaked in the guise of justice.
Raziel’s voice thundered in her mind, shaking the room as though the sheer volume of it could cause a cave-in.
“I thought it was for the good of the people.” She looked at the ceiling, sobbing, feeling unworthy. “I don’t deserve to hear your voice. I’m just a killer.”
Do not apologize, Risa. Your actions prove far nobler than a mere act of vengeance. Major Wymar is but a small cog between the origin and the result.
Raziel’s presence receded, leaving her once more alone in the dark. Believing in angels made it impossible not to believe in all the stories. The faint presence of whispering made her wonder how many ghosts surrounded her. A beep came in time with flashing words at the top of her vision: ‘Incoming: Col. Garrison.’ Risa ignored the ringing. The spotters didn’t report an explosion.
She wiped the tears from her face, shivering from the aftereffect of the drug. Overstressed muscles refused to stop twitching. Huddled against the stone, she tried to get her heart to stop racing.
Light caught her eye at the tunnel, the wavering glow of a feeble e-lantern approached. A tiny white hand came around the wall, followed by the face of a porcelain doll set with sapphire eyes. Dirt-covered toes gripped the ground as a tattered improvised dress slid over a scraped knee. The sight of her made Risa cover her mouth with both hands and shake harder. I’ve got ‘sucker’ written all over me, and that beggar kid senses it.
Kree grinned and ran over.
Risa shivered at the thought of the device above her head. The child had followed her through the cave. Oh, my God. If I’d been too slow… She raised an arm, offering a hug the child accepted without hesitation. The girl didn’t know she’d become a doll Risa held for comfort.
I didn’t think I was going to make it.
“You have pretty purple eyes.” Tiny eyebrows furrowed. “
No is a silly name.”
She blinked. “What?”
Kree fidgeted at her dress. “I asked you what your name is, and you said no an’ ran away.”
“My name is Risa.” She stroked the girl’s hair.
You went back, knowing you would not likely survive, said Raziel.
Risa shuddered, letting Kree lean back far enough to examine her face. She wiped a smudge from the child’s cheek before mounting guilt forced her to look away. Her mind tortured her with a daydream of standing in the city outside, watching the smoke and the rocks―and finding small, burnt bodies amid the debris.
I wouldn’t have wanted to.
One by one, thirteen others emerged from the tunnel, but kept a wary distance. Risa looked upon five girls and nine boys. About half of them wore scavenged clothes, the rest whatever they had on when they’d run away―or been orphaned. Kree seemed to be the youngest. They crept closer, forming a horseshoe around where she sprawled.
“What’s that?” asked a boy about ten. He pointed at the bomb.
The oldest girl, who looked close to twelve, crossed her arms. “She’s here to kill us.”
“I didn’t know,” whispered Risa. “I had no idea.”
“It’s a bomb,” said the eldest boy.
Kree swiveled to face the crowd. “Risa didn’ wanna bomb us. She turned it off.” The girl looked back to Risa, biting her lower lip and grinding her big toe into the ground.
Still sitting in a ball, Risa found herself almost at eye level with the six-year-old. Those eyes… whatever she’s about to ask me for…
“Can we have some food?” Kree smiled.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Risa mentally growled at Garrison’s inbound call. Again, she ignored it. Inspiration came from nowhere, and she stood. “I’ve got a better idea.”
A few keystrokes retracted the spikes, disengaging the bomb from the column, and she packed it away in her harness. The kids watched, collecting in a tighter clump. With the explosive safe, Risa looked over the mix of faces, suspicious and curious―and one adoring.
Risa held out her hand. “Come on, I’ll get you all some food.”
Kree grabbed it without hesitating. The oldest girl pulled on the child, a distrusting glare locked on Risa, but Kree whined and squirmed until she gave up. A discussion of whispers broke out among the kids.
A boy about thirteen pushed out of the group and pointed at her. “You Syndicate?”
Risa scowled. “No.”
“Kree trusts her,” said a boy around the same age.
“No one gives shit away,” said the eldest boy. “What are you going to make us do for the food?”
Risa smiled. “Nothing but follow me to where it is.”
He stared at her for a minute before the hostility faded from his eyes. “Okay, but we’re watching you.”
“Yay!” Kree bounced.
“Are there any more of you?” asked Risa.
“Maggie and Nathan,” said a ten year old. “Nathan got arrested, and Maggie dis’peared.”
“Syndicate got her,” said the oldest girl. “She was sixteen.”
Why does Maris deal with those bastards? We should scrape them off the face of Mars. “So this is it then? No one left in the tunnels?”
A chorus of less-than-enthusiastic ‘no’s followed.
Risa headed back into the tunnel, leading the group. Kree, grinning from ear to ear, held her hand and walked at her side. The map she had downloaded had enough detail to plot a route to an abandoned tram tunnel that would have connected Primus City to Secundus. The project died before the first tram ever attempted the trip. Everyone had a theory about why: aliens native to Mars prior to humans’ arrival and paranormal anomalies made the top of the ‘most popular’ lists, but Risa’s experience told her unstable geographic conditions or unpaid bribes were more likely. She led them back to the alley and the vent she’d used to get to this place, but took a different path that didn’t require climbing to get to the eastern part of the city and back into the tunnels.
Eyes watched them from the shadows of an area devoted to private dwellings. Dirt-floored corridors ran in a grid pattern with apartment nodes at regular intervals. The connecting passageways held dozens of vagrants and opportunists. The kids behind her glared back at the thugs, punks, and prostitutes, acting unafraid. A few dosers, too high to notice them, startled Kree with sudden shouts. She trembled and went glassy-eyed. Risa picked her up and carried her, feeling a lump rise in her throat at the sight of a six-year-old sucking her thumb.
“She doesn’t like goin’ outside,” whispered one of the ten-year-old boys.
“Anyone who comes within fifteen feet of us is going to have a very bad day,” said Risa. The ice in her voice fell over the crowd of gangers and thugs like a physical blanket.
Either by reputation or threat, she made it to the end of the tunnel without incident, and followed her floating map to the right and another ventilation duct. Kree calmed once the shadows no longer had eyes, and Risa put the girl down on her feet to open the vent.
“Why are we going this way?” asked Kree, a lingering trace of terror on her voice.
Risa’s jaw tightened with guilt. “I didn’t want to go through the vents with so many of you. This way takes longer, but some of the fans are dangerous. There’s two broken ladders as well, which you’re too little to get past.”
“Oh.” Kree kicked a small stone. “You promised us food. We went past food.”
“I did.” Risa smiled at her. “I think you and your friends should stay with us, where it’s safe. Those tunnels you were hiding in are dangerous.”
“Our tunnel is close to the square,” said a boy. “We can skim and run before we get seen.”
“MDF won’t chase us in there,” said girl of about nine.
“The MDF would be more likely to chase you into those tunnels than where I live.” Risa smiled at them. “You won’t have to steal anymore. We have beds you can sleep in and food whenever you want it.”
The kids exchanged glances. After a protracted exchange of suspicious looks, a gradual spread of nodding swept over them.
For over an hour, she walked while telling softened stories of how she had once hidden in the dark as they do, and now lived with people who protected her.
“Why’d you run away?” asked the smallest boy.
That was about the ninth time the question got thrown out, but something about his eyes pulled the answer out of her before she could think to hold it back.
“Soldiers killed my father.” Risa kicked a few stones out of her way. “They came at night. I was eight. He shoved me in the vent and told me to run.” She let off a sad chuckle. “All I had was my underpants.”
A few of them shivered.
“I don’t have underpants,” said the smallest boy, as if proud of it. He showed off a brown jumpsuit. “I stealed this.”
“Gang war,” said the oldest boy. “Bullets came right through our apartment from outside. I’m only alive because I was on the floor watchin’ a holo.”
“My parents were soldiers,” said the oldest girl. “Mom died when her plane was shot down. My dad died in combat a day later, before they even told him. I found out from the man who owned our building. He kicked me out so someone else could move in.” She scowled. “He even kept Mary.”
“Yeah,” said a few of the others who all had similar stories.
Raziel, please tell me I didn’t orphan any of these kids. Risa stared at the stone overhead. “Who’s Mary?”
“My babysitter. A doll.” The girl looked ready to cry. “She’s a sub-sent, so he said he was gonna take her as missin’ rent payment.”
The smallest boy sniffled. “My daddy didn’t want me. We came from ‘nother city and he lef’ me at a Funzone.”
Kree kept quiet, offering only a sullen stare at the floor.
Damn UCF hypocrites. Risa squeezed Kree’s hand. If this was Earth, they’d be all over the NewsNet. ‘Look how well we take care of our kids.�
� No one on Earth sees them, so they don’t exist.
By the time she halted at an old elevator shaft, it seemed she had earned guarded trust from the group. The wariness in their expressions had faded to curiosity. Risa pulled the doors out of the way and helped the smallest onto the ladder. In single file, they descended two stories down and emerged in a large hollow cavern that might have been intended as a tram station. It had the overall shape of one, with a deep groove where the train would be and a wide expanse off to the side for shops and a food court, but it was all bare rock.
As Risa started toward the tram tunnel, the oldest girl’s suspicious glare returned. “Are we gonna get made into tí-zhèn like you?”
Risa cringed. That term often carried a negative connotation equivalent to calling someone an assassin, a thief, or a heartless killer. Sometimes it simply meant boosted for speed. Either way, the girl knew Risa was one―obvious given how fast she’d run off―and she found it embarrassing. The comment picked at her regret for agreeing to General Maris’s offer.
“No.” Ice drenched her voice. “If they try to force any of you to do that, I’ll kill them myself. I was… idealistic. Too young, too angry. I thought I’d become this unstoppable thing that could hunt down and kill the people who murdered my dad. I didn’t know any better, so I volunteered. I… If I could go back in time, I’d say no.”
A satisfied expression on her face, the girl rejoined the group. Kree insisted on holding Risa’s hand, not that she minded. They walked for hours, stopping three times to rest along the way. Eventually, the passage took on a mild incline, leading up to a crossing tunnel twenty meters in diameter. Metallic flavoring in the air hinted at an imperfect atmospheric seal somewhere in the distance.
Hand of Raziel (Daughter of Mars Book 1) Page 16