by James Wake
The long line of distinguished guests filtering inside ignored the commotion—groups of ladies in glittering dresses and gentlemen in slick, tailored suits. Normally there would be reporters in slightly less impressive gowns, breathlessly observing, with their flittering flocks of drones snapping pictures of who was attending with whom, who was wearing what.
Not this year.
Still plenty of Auktoris drones, though. One swept in close to Nadia’s face, clicking and scanning as she strode past the line. She glared at it, her hands crammed deep in the pockets of her hated white trench coat as her heels clicked along, daring it to say something.
It flew away without so much as a blink. The guards kept their respectful distance, plenty busy dragging the two protesters away, faces bagged and hands cuffed. No one even bothered her about the abandoned police hoverbike. It wasn’t the first time she’d arrived on a stolen bike, leaving it for the Domes to clean up after her.
Nadia had never entered the Charity Ball like this. She and her sister were supposed to descend from the upper levels, heralded by great fanfare. Instead she stepped inside alone, blinking as glittering lights swallowed her up.
Her eyes adjusted to see a great fountain first, surrounded by sycophants and lackeys chatting over drinks. Automated servers on silent wheels whirred through the crowd with trays of refreshments. Dazzling, all of it, an endless mass of healthy skin and clean white smiles and people dripping money through every minute movement of their bodies, every breath leaving their chests.
Peasants, compared to her. Nadia had never mingled with the lowborn crowds back when she attended. The party stretched on, the hosts no doubt about to begin the night’s true festivities from deeper inside. If anyone recognized her, they didn’t bother her as she slipped between empty conversations, her gloved hands bunched up tightly in her pockets.
She couldn’t linger. Surely the Domes had scanned her face. Someone would come for her: grim-faced guards in suits, politely but sternly informing her that Nadia’s presence was requested in the main hall.
As if her mother even attended anymore. She surely was observing from her board room atop the Structure, sealed in and preparing to address the crowd through a screen.
A particularly dense group of people blocked her way, laughing about…
“Unbelievable, those criminals outside. Did you see the size of the crowds when you flew in?”
“Absurd. All of it. I read they’ve been bussing people in from the slums, paying them off to stir up trouble.”
Nadia paused and waited, biting back on the urge to say what a preposterous idea that was. Shoving through would only draw more attention. Instead she stood in place, one of her boots tapping as the nervous ball in her gut drew tighter every second.
Another drone hovered closer, peering over her shoulder. There were still plenty in the air all about her, but she felt this one staring, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. She tried to ignore it, tried keeping her eyes pointedly glaring at the oafish man in a sharp blue suit blocking her path.
Move, will you!
Unable to help herself, she cast a mean look at the drone. Different than most of the ones above her head, it was a tiny thing, darting about like a hummingbird. A very familiar hummingbird.
Dronicus?
“Are you ghosting me?” a voice said at her side. Not in her ears. “That’s too bad. I thought we were really connecting.”
Nadia turned to see a version of Tess that made her mouth hang open for a long, stunned second. It wasn’t just that she’d never seen Tess wear a dress before—this was a slim and elegant black cocktail dress, glittering all down its tasteful length. A white shawl lay draped over her right shoulder, gracefully concealing the joint of her prosthetic arm. Makeup, of all things, applied with a gentle and deft hand. Auburn hair pulled back in a simple yet elegant chignon.
She was even wearing heels. Kitten heels, but still.
And on her neck, a stolen necklace. A simple, elegant silver thing, with diamonds so small and clear they were pinpricks of light running down the chain.
“I know, I know,” Tess said, their elbows only barely not touching. “I clean up nice, and yes, you did tell me so.”
“How did you…? How are you here?” Nadia said, although it was one of only a hundred questions fighting to be asked.
“What kind of party would this be if they hadn’t invited Janet Pavlov?”
Nadia narrowed her eyes, trying to figure out why the name sounded familiar. “Is that even a real person?”
“Not even remotely. Ooh, crab cake!” Tess said, plucking a doughy ball off one of the robot waiters. She popped it into her mouth and grimaced immediately. “Ugh, tastes like hyper-capitalist excess.”
Nadia forced herself to move, working her way in a different direction. She was unsurprised to see Tess tag along at her side. “Don’t follow me.”
“Why not?”
Some nearby yelling caught their attention, a man in a suit tearing his jacket open to reveal a projector on his chest. Another defaced mockery of the Auktoris logo hovered in the air above him, the trailing legs of the letter “A” bleeding down into dripping crimson.
“Let them drown with cake!” he screamed. “No blood for—”
Tackled, held down by grim men in severe suits. As if they’d appeared from nowhere, melted right out of the crowd.
“Amateurs,” Tess said, shaking her head and adjusting her glasses. “Brave but dumb. I’m impressed that he made it up here, though.”
“You expect me to believe this wasn’t some facet of your plan?”
“Trust me. My plan was to be miles away from here tonight,” Tess said. Still following. “You’re the only reason I’m here.”
“How disappointing. I don’t believe a word of it.”
“Hey, I don’t have to tell people to fight back!” Tess said, flinching and lowering her voice. “The people of this city have been pushed too far. You can’t expect them to sit at home and do nothing while the elite watch them drown—literally drown—from up high.”
Elite. Quite a word indeed. Nadia tried not to scoff too loudly as she made her way closer to the edge of the banquet hall. There were side passages everywhere up here, full of dark corners one could change in.
“And for the record, I don’t believe a word of your bullshit either,” Tess said. “I know what you’re doing.”
Nadia stopped, turned, and jabbed a finger into Tess’s chest. “You pushed people. You instigated. You tricked people into rioting and fighting and…” she trailed off. Her own crimes at this point were too many to list.
Tess gave her a long, knowing look. “All I’ve done is help people do what they wanted to do anyway.” Her white shawl had the red Auktoris logo spiraling down its length, perfectly matching Nadia’s sleeve. A small part of it on her shoulder flickered and shimmered, a toothy cat face appearing and winking for a moment.
“Cute,” Nadia said. “But unfortunately I really must insist that you—”
Large displays in the air above them blinked to life. All guests’ eyes were drawn up, surrounded by a feed of the main hall and its dais of honored guests and hosts.
A blond copy of Nadia smiled at the camera, resplendent in a white gown trimmed in Auktoris scarlet. “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, beaming ever so professionally, “due to your immense generosity, we will be randomly selecting more than a dozen lucky individuals for rent assistance. It will be my pleasure to announce the recipients of your charitable efforts tonight!”
Applause broke out. Unable to help herself, Nadia sneered at everyone around her.
“So eager to pat themselves on the back,” Tess said, “for doing so little.”
There was no sign of her mother in attendance, of course. Nadia’s eyes burned; her jaw clenched until it ached. It was a long climb to the top of the Structure from here.
She steppe
d away. Tess’s hand caught her sleeve. Her left hand, her human hand.
“Don’t do this,” she said.
“I’m afraid that isn’t an option.”
Tess sighed, long and loud. “At least let me help,”
“I don’t need your help.” Nadia tore her arm away.
“You do if you’re going to get up there without getting killed.” Her purple eyes, still flickering, darted toward the summit of the Structure above them. For once, the flickering didn’t bother Nadia—bright glints in Tess’s pupils, brilliant little shining pinpricks of light.
They were beautiful. She was beautiful, achingly so, always had been. Finally Nadia found herself able to think the word, too much of a coward before to let it be true.
Too late. It hurt to look now. She turned to leave.
“Please?” Tess said. “I know you think you need to do this. I understand.”
Nadia let out a huff.
“I’m…sorry,” Tess said. “About everything.”
“I know,” Nadia answered, without so much as turning around. She walked away, face low, pretending there wasn’t an awful aching pain in her chest that made her eyes water.
* * *
Jackson landed hard, clicking her siren a few times. There wasn’t much space left around the choppers that were ferrying in guests—along with a cluster of Domes gathered around some kind of commotion, taking up what should have been a landing pad.
Geared up in her Tac Team uniform, minus the rig, Wedge hopped off the back of the bike. Two women in blue, the only ones among a sea of faceless black Auktoris guards.
One of them approached, taller and broader than his coworkers. “You goddamned city cops think you can just park wherever you want?”
“Hi, Vicks!” Wedge said. “You traitor!”
“Hi, Wedge,” he said. “I missed you too.”
“Thanks. And sorry to ask you to do this,” Jackson said.
“Sorry about your partner,” he said back. “But, uh…I gotta say, you’ve got me kind of worried.”
Jackson slipped a hand onto his shoulder, sneaking it up to cradle the side of his neck. She wished badly that she could see his face.
“You’re gonna make me lose my job here,” he said.
“Would that be so bad?”
He looked away, shuffling uncomfortably under her hand.
“I’ve got a plan,” she said, leaning in close and resting her forehead against his blank helmet. “Do you trust me?”
He covered her hand with his, his stance growing firm again. “With my life.”
“Then let’s make a difference.”
“Yeah…okay,” he said, turning to lead them inside. “Let’s go.”
Jackson nodded and followed, hurrying across the helipads sticking out halfway up the Structure, toward the bright, glittering entrance to the festivities.
“Stay close behind me,” Vicks said. “We’re gonna cut through here, then right to the side, staying out of the party as much as—”
Jackson broke in. “Is that…?” She threw wary eyes at the cluster of Domes behind them, all gathered around something she’d only now caught a glimpse of. A police hoverbike.
“Officer David Ortega” written on its side.
“She’s here,” Jackson said.
“Well, yeah, no shit,” Wedge said. “I mean, I hope she’s here. That’s why we’re—”
“No, the Sapphire Shadow.”
Vicks stopped walking, holding a hand up to the side of his helmet. “Whoa, yeah. Comms are lighting up. One security officer just went down, Suspect One may be in the building.”
“That’s cute,” Wedge said. “Public menace number one! What a joke.”
Home. Plans tonight. Jackson looked up to the lit-up side of the Structure stretching up above.
“Still going in?” Vicks said.
Jackson nodded. “Like you said, keep moving.”
* * *
“Are you dead yet?”
“Hilarious,” Nadia said, fully suited up again. Her coat and boots she had left crumpled in a pile. There was no more need for silly costumes.
“Oh, thank God,” Tess said. She couldn’t quite cover the genuine relief in her voice. “I know you don’t want my help, but I was going to start vomiting out here listening to these idiots. You’re a welcome distraction.”
“Is that all I’ve ever been to you?” Nadia said, crouched in a dark corner of a cramped room. Waiter robots were lined up against one wall, charging. “A pretty distraction?”
“You are extremely distracting.”
It felt overwhelmingly good, for an instant. Comfortable. Like old times, like they were storming a secret lab or databank together again.
There was an opening in the ceiling, a narrow shaft that led up. Could have been anything at the top. A solid grate. Soldiers with guns drawn. Packs of attack dogs.
Nadia eyed what was to her an obvious panel on the wall. It cracked open easily, one of the cables inside lighting up in her HUD. She pulled out a transmitter but stopped, inches away from connecting it.
“So…you are gonna let me help?” Tess said, her voice laced with hope.
Nadia bit her lip. Part of her still screamed that she couldn’t trust Tess.
The rest of her knew it didn’t really matter. She connected the transmitter and slammed the panel shut without even waiting for the link light to blink on.
“Whoa!” Tess said, just this side of breathless, sounding as though she were fanning herself. “Wow, look at this network. You shouldn’t have.”
“Enjoy,” Nadia said, already climbing up toward the open shaft, ducking a drone hovering down with a wrapped tray. There was barely enough room for her to squeeze past the occasional flying delivery. “Don’t get too distracted. I need a path.”
“No worries. Nothing really juicy down here anyway,” Tess said. “Clear up top. Just one guard right outside when you get there.”
For the moment, Nadia ignored the camera feeds that popped up in her vision. Her arms ached, shaking already. The suit took on the hard work for her, even with one forearm sporting a bullet hole that still leaked silver goop.
She couldn’t help eyeing the long melted groove where Tess’s blade had kissed the sleeve.
“Did my sword do that?” Tess said, half embarrassed, half awestruck.
Grunting for breath, Nadia didn’t reply. A few moments later, she reached the top and vaulted up, aiming for her usual perfect landing pose. Her knees refused, making her teeter on the edge of the shaft opening and flail her arms for balance.
“Wow, graceful,” Tess said. “I still can’t believe you won earlier. Pretty clever, beating me with the jammers.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you, dear.” She saw the guard before she rounded the corner, a hard-eyed man in a suit with a shaved head. He was smirking, tapping invisible buttons with his fingers, eyes glazed over as he strolled down the corridor.
She easily could have avoided him, gone above him and been on her way. Instead she pounced, the fibers in her legs bounding her at him before he could react. She clamped her hands over his mouth, muting his scream as crackling bolts surged through his body.
More carefully than she ever had before, she cradled his limp body to the ground. In another moment, he was bound with his own handcuffs, and she was tapped into his comms channel.
“So necessary,” Tess said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Nadia said, creeping through the dark maintenance halls of the Structure’s mid-levels. “Do we not want access to their conversations?”
“How about you just admit you like beating guys up?”
Nadia paused, blinking. Preposterous. “You know very well I abhor violence.”
“Bull. Shit.” A feed appeared in her HUD, a recording of her vision as she fought Jackson at the exhibition only a few days ag
o. “Look at that! Your heart rate bumped up just watching it.”
Nadia scowled. That was Jackson. That was different.
“I’m just saying,” Tess said, “if I’d known from the beginning that killing cops excited you, I would’ve been way more into you.”
“I’ve never killed anyone,” Nadia said, scowling as she crawled along a ceiling.
“Wrong.” More feeds appeared—a Dome on a hoverbike plunging into traffic past her, a gangbanger with wild hair rolling unconscious off a bike onto pavement at high speed, a screaming Dome thrown back by her hand and plunging over the side of a bent railing.
Nadia cringed. Any number of phrases came to mind. Self-defense. Incidental. Justified. “It’s not the same,” she said weakly.
“I don’t see how the distinction matters.”
“It matters to me!”
“Why?”
A long, tired sigh. Nadia couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“I think it’s silly, you know?” Tess said. “The teensiest bit hypocritical? Too good to employ scary capital ‘V’ violence, while gleefully using violence to solve problems? Might be perpetuating an oversimplified myth that violence is either righteous or not, with no degree of—”
“Is this really the time?” Nadia said, crawling up farther into the crawl space above ceiling tiles.
“If you’re planning on doing what I think you are, this is pretty much the perfect time.”
Nadia crawled out and stood upright, once again in the open space of an elevator shaft. She crouched on top of one of the cars, leaning against the steel cables.
Tess didn’t know what she was talking about. Not this time. She didn’t understand.
“Are you going to help me or not?”
Silence. Five seconds later, the elevator car moved up.
* * *
“Reinforcements,” Vicks explained, waving at the two cops behind him.
“Thought you guys were done?” the stiff-necked guard asked Jackson. He was gesturing furiously with his free hand, cycling through menus in his glazed-over eyes.
“Last night on the job,” she said.