Lucky 7

by Rae D. Magdon

  I sigh. “Only one way to find out.”

  We leave the office space and step into a short hallway. There are a few doors on either side, but nothing of interest in the rooms beyond, although we open them to be sure. Just some storage and a tiny, crummy looking break room. The architects probably wanted to preserve as much square footage as possible for the factory floor itself. At the end of the hallway is a roll-up door that takes up nearly the entire wall. The keypad next to it isn’t lit, so it looks like we’re doing this the old-fashioned way. I turn to Rock. “Think you can get it open?”

  Rock bends down, jamming his fingers underneath the door. It groans in protest, but eventually, he manages to wrench it up high enough for the rest of us to duck through. As depicted in the blueprints Cross sent us, the factory floor takes up the rest of the building’s interior. Inactive conveyer belts stretch between large pieces of equipment: outdated assembly machines, vertical lifters, fork transfers. An enclosed office space is perched high on the far wall, surrounded by glass windows so whoever’s inside can oversee everything below. The whole scene is coated in a thick layer of dust and silence.

  “This is creepy,” Doc mutters. Even though her voice is quiet, it echoes in the open space.

  “Got that right.” Cherry gestures at the walls, which are covered in eerie display screens wherever there’s empty space. They don’t appear to be active, but they have resting images, which means power must be coming from somewhere. My frown deepens as I read some of them:

  A smiling cartoon cat at a desk has a thought bubble that says, ‘Time is nonrefundable. Use it with intention!’ ‘To make your dreams come true, the first thing you have to do is get to work’ is displayed above an ocean sunrise. Of course, Veronica Cross is smiling at us from a prominent place on the far wall, with letters that say: ‘Axys Generations—Create. Innovate. Discover.’ I shudder. It doesn’t take much to imagine cogs working in this factory, looking up in the middle of a grinding, repetitive day and seeing the displays.

  “Sasha, take a look at this.” Rami gets my attention, pointing out several storage racks stacked on top of one another. Hanging within those storage racks are maybe fifty old-looking AxysGen security mechs. They’re around three meters tall, judging from a distance, and human-shaped, with miniguns for arms, huge pistons for legs, and a heavily plated torso. Their ‘faces’ are blank metal bulbs, with the exception of a speaker where a human’s mouth would be, and a circular black band at eye level—the mech version of a VIS-R.

  Elena scoffs. “Don’t be scared of those. They’re V.503s, right?” She hops a conveyer belt and heads to the wall for a closer look. “Yup,” she calls back to us. “Way out of date. The plating on these guys is thick, but they’re slow as hell and their miniguns overheat. Plus the standard targeting system was so buggy AxysGen skipped right to the 600s a few years back. These things probably haven’t been activated in years.”

  “Still, why didn’t AxysGen take them when they cleared out the factory?” Rami asks. “Leaving them here seems a waste.”

  We won’t get answers, or the data Cross wants, by standing around. I walk across the factory floor in the direction of the raised office, and Cross’s giant face. Any remaining terminals besides the stripped ones in the break room will probably be up there. The echo of my own footsteps makes my pulse spike. So much about this feels wrong, and I’m almost tempted to pull out of the op altogether.

  “Val, you sure there’s no heat signatures anywhere?” I say, trying to ignore the way my voice echoes in the stillness.

  “Yes,” Val says. “Although I advise caution.”

  “Don’t need to tell me twice.”

  Below the office is an elevator. Unlike the assembly line machinery, it seems to be on. The orange pad flashes green when I touch it, and the elevator whooshes down, both doors opening. I look back at the others. “I don’t trust it. These aren’t the mission parameters Cross described, and I don’t feel like being trapped in a metal box.”

  Rami steps forward, removing a grappling hook gun from their belt. “Then let’s do this the fun way. Is that all right with you, cupcake?”

  I nod. Climbing up seems safer than a trip in the ominously inviting elevator. “Cherry, do you have that plasma cutter you’ve been working on?”

  “Sure do.” She pulls out a small black device the size and shape of a laser pointer, with a bright red button on the end. “I still haven’t perfected the heat sink, though. You can only use it in short bursts before it has to cool down.”

  Elena raises an eyebrow. “Plasma? Isn’t that a bit overkill for glass?”

  A grin spreads across Cherry’s face. “Um, of course it is. I get that you’re new, Nevares, but when have I ever done anything half-assed? This baby can cut through reinforced steel walls like butter.”

  I silence her with a glare. This isn’t the place to boast. Plus, I’m still pissed at all of them, with the possible exception of Elena. It’s rubbing salt in my wounds, reminding me that no matter how normal my crew acts, my relationship with them isn’t the same. Maybe it never will be again.

  “Thanks, babe.” Rami plucks the plasma cutter from Cherry’s hand with a kiss and puts it in their belt. Then, they aim their grappling hook gun and fire a thin cable toward the wall of the office. When the hooks make contact, they form a powerful magnetic field, bonding themselves to the glass. After giving the line a tug, Rami clips the other end to their belt. “Back in a flash.” With the press of a button, the cable retracts, pulling them up with it.

  Sixty seconds later, there’s a hole in the glass big enough for all of us to climb through. Rami attaches the cable more firmly somewhere inside, then leans out, motioning us up. One by one, we climb to the office, Elena, Cherry, and me with belt clips and some help from Rami, and Rock with his bare hands while Doc sits on his shoulders.

  The interior of the office was probably fancy once. There are circular indents on the corners of the carpet where potted plants probably sat, and screens built into the glass that show scrolling images of landscapes. A large wooden desk is the only furniture that remains, along with a terminal covered in dust.

  “Looks like this place hasn’t been touched for a few months,” Elena says. She circles the desk before sinking into the plush leather chair with a groan. “Oh, nice.”

  “I can’t believe how okay you are with this,” I grumble.

  Elena rolls her eyes as she activates the terminal. “Cross paid us two hundred million credits to come here, Sasha. So, yeah, I’m in a pretty damn good mood. I’m willing to risk a trap for that price.”

  “Can’t spend your share if you’re dead, Nevares.”

  “If it is a trap and my brain gets fried, give the credits to my brothers.” Her tone is joking, but I can tell the request is serious. I nod in agreement.

  “Last chance,” Cherry says, eyeing the terminal suspiciously. “We could just take the whole thing with us. Less risky than letting chaparrita jack in.”

  “Cross said ‘without disturbing the hardware,’” I reply. “For two hundred million, I’m not playing.”

  “What if we thought of her instructions more like ‘guidelines?’” Rami asks.

  I roll my eyes. “Jack in, Nevares.”

  Elena removes Val from her tactical belt, jacking the databox into the terminal. “Back in a second.” She jacks the other end into the port behind her ear, and her eyes go blank. As soon as she does, the wall screens change. The decorative landscapes disappear, replaced by a moving image. It’s someone’s head, their features hidden beneath a blue hood. Shit. This has to be the jacker Elena saw at Cross’s mansion. Taking the two million and running suddenly doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. The crew draws their weapons, and I rush around the desk toward Elena, preparing to disconnect her jack. The nausea of a hard cut is better than a melted brain.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the figure says, in a chillingly familiar voice. I know what’s coming when they pull the hood back, bu
t it still sends a painful jolt through my chest—Megan. Megan’s alive.

  Friday, 06-18-65 00:06:07

  I CAN’T believe it. I won’t believe it. Maybe this is CGI, or some kind of recording from before Megan’s death. But part of me knows deep in my bones that it isn’t a trick. Megan’s alive. There are too many feelings for me to pick just one: anger, hurt, betrayal, relief…Wait, relief? Why am I relieved she’s alive after all she’s done to me? The rest of the crew starts shouting.

  “Blondie?”

  “What the fuck!”

  “Oh my god, you’re alive!”

  The atmosphere is eerie. My crew’s voices are excited, their faces are overjoyed, but I’m just…numb. All I can manage is a quiet, weak, “Megan?”

  “Of course.” The absence of warmth alone sends a chill down my spine. I’m probably going crazy, but the air around me reeks of vanilla. “I realize this is a lot of new information. I’ll keep it brief. Where’s Val’s databox?”

  That’s when it starts sinking in for everybody else. Their faces fall, and the bubble of happiness pops.

  “Seriously?” Rami asks, sounding wounded. “That’s it? No ‘I’m glad to see you’ or ‘I missed you?’”

  Everyone stares at Megan, but before she can say anything, Val’s voice comes in over the comm, sounding worried. “Sasha, there is a problem. Elena and I have encountered a uniquely coded Venus flytrap.”

  A sickening wave of fear washes over me. Real Venus flytraps are rare and incredibly difficult to code. Plenty of low-quality knockoffs exist that professional jackers skip right over, but if there’s a terminal you don’t want anyone to access ever again, the true Venus flytrap is deadly. It forces whoever is jacked in to stay jacked in, unless they can figure out how to escape. If they try to jack out normally, boom. Brain soup.

  My fear turns to anger. This setup has Megan written all over it. She isn’t back for a reunion, or even to make excuses for her behavior. She’s working with Axys-Gen. With Cross. Why else would she be here waiting for us? “Get her out of there, Val!”

  “Elena and I are working to decrypt and alter its source code,” Val says. “This process may take several minutes.”

  “Ah, so you did give her to the new girl,” Megan says. “You don’t have to bother decrypting my code. I’ll let my ‘replacement’—if you can even call her that—go in exchange for what’s mine. Give me your brainbox and Val’s databox.”

  “What the fuck?” Cherry snarls, glaring at the screens. “You set this up with Cross, didn’t you? How much is AxysGen paying you for Val, anyway? What price made you decide to turn traitor and sell us out?”

  The rest of the group stares at Megan in utter betrayal as they figure out what I already know, but she ignores them, looking straight at me. “What’s it going to be, Sasha?”

  There’s no hesitation at all in my answer. “Hell no. I protect mine.” Not even for a second will I consider giving the keys to Megan if she’s working for Cross. I won’t do Val like that, no matter how pissed I am.

  Megan narrows her eyes. “I’m running out of patience. Give me Val’s keys, or I’ll kill you all.”

  Cherry aims her rifle at the closest screen, angry enough to explode. “I knew you were a crazy bitch, but faking your death? Stealing Val? That’s some truly evil shit. What are you even doing with AxysGen?”

  “I can’t ‘steal’ my own intellectual property. As for AxysGen, Cross can give me what I need.”

  Cherry glares at her. “Well, what I need is for you to get your puta oxigenada ass out the building and go fuck yourself.”

  “Well, I—wait.” Megan pauses, looking around the office. Her face goes from irritated to worried in a split second. “Shit, where’d they go?”

  At first, I don’t realize what’s happening, but then it hits me, Rami’s gone. They must have activated their armor’s cloaking function. Despite the tension, I can’t help cracking a smile. Rock even starts to laugh.

  “Little Miss Disappear can’t save you,” Megan says, still smug, like she’s in complete control. “I’ll blow up this whole building if I have to, with all of you in it. I know you don’t want anything to happen to your sister.”

  Rock strikes quick as a snake. He grabs the nearest screen with Megan’s face, wrenching it out of the wall. Sparks fly, and the air smells like burnt wires.

  On all the other screens, Megan’s lips curl in a smile. “I guess we’re doing this the hard way.”

  “Sasha, we need to get out of here!” Rami’s voice blasts into my ears, fast and urgent. “The mechs downstairs are moving!”

  I look down through the glass wall. No sign of Rami, but there’s movement off to the left. At least twenty mechs have crowded around the bottom of the elevator, and more are climbing out of the storage racks to join them.

  “Come on, Megan.” The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them, flowing in spite of everything. “Just let Elena go and come with us. This? Working with AxysGen? It isn’t you.” But it is her, and that realization is more terrifying than the mechs.

  “Sorry, Sasha. Cross has things I need. It’s a mutually beneficial relationship, for now.”

  I didn’t know it was possible for my heart to break again, but apparently it can, because I feel it shatter to dust in my chest. Deep down, some part of me was still clinging to the hope that I was wrong. That my memories, my feelings, even the present reality where Megan is threatening to kill me, are some kind of mistake. But there’s no mistake. Megan really doesn’t care. She never loved me, and now she’s trying to kill us. I’ve been in love with Megan for all those years, but I never really knew her.

  “Last chance,” Megan says, with a small smirk of victory. “My mechs are coming upstairs. Hand the keys over to them, or I’ll—fffftttttt!”

  The screens flash, and Megan’s face disappears in a colorful blur of pixels and static. A new image flickers to life—Elena, panting with exertion, a piece of hair from her ponytail stuck to one cheek. She lowers her shield and grimaces. “Fuck, Sasha, is your ex a literal supervillain or something?”

  Warm relief floods through me. I hadn’t realized how terrified I was until I see Elena’s face, hear her voice.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t just stand there. Move! I got out of the Venus flytrap, even managed to copy the stupid data, but she’s running Dendryte Platinum modded like I’ve never seen. I’ve probably only got a few seconds to jack out befo—” She disappears just as the screens fill with glowing red light. A Puls.wav. Shit.

  I dash toward Elena’s body, crouching down and grabbing her wrist to check for a pulse. My own heart stops for what feels like ages, until I feel the familiar throb under my fingers. She’s still alive. A moment later, Elena opens her eyes. She groans, groping for her jack with one hand and reaching for me with the other. When her fingers clasp mine, I can finally breathe again.

  “Sasha?” she groans.

  I tear my hand away from hers, grabbing both of her shoulders in a trembling grip. “Nevares? Never do that again, you hear me?”

  “Sure, I got myself stuck in a Venus flytrap on purpose,” Elena protests, her voice slurred but indignant. She’s still suffering from the effects, but her sarcasm obviously hasn’t been affected.

  A soft hissing noise startles both of us. The elevator doors have opened, revealing ten mechs crammed inside. I take cover behind the desk, dragging Elena down with me a split second before the first row fires on us. Splinters of wood fly in every direction, and Val’s databox falls out of the chair. I snatch it up before it can get lost, shoving it into my pocket.

  “Rock, doors!” Doc shouts from somewhere off to the right.

  At first, I don’t know what she means, but when I peek over the shredded remains of the desk, I see Rock standing in front of the elevator. The mechs are firing into his chest, but he manages to withstand it long enough to wrench the steel doors shut. Trails of smoke leak from the elevator’s seams, and there are hand-shaped dents in the
metal. He’s bought us a few seconds, but it won’t hold for long—neither the doors nor his internal armor.

  “Glad you made it back, Elena,” Doc says, crawling out from behind a couch that Rock must have upended when the mechs first appeared.

  Cherry crawls toward us from the opposite direction. “Yeah, chaparrita. You got here for the best part.”

  Elena just stares at her with blurry eyes, but Cherry is undeterred. “Cherry bombs, jefa?” she asks me eagerly.

  I nod. Cherry looks way too happy about the idea, but it’s a good one, and we’re short on time. “Fine. Cherry bombs.”

  “Yes!” She pulls two shiny red spheres from her utility belt. They’re only about as big as a baseball, but their size is deceptive. I’ve seen Cherry take down small buildings with her namesake. “Rami, babe, if you’re nearby, back it up and get to cover!” she hollers over the comm.

  Rami doesn’t respond. They’re being quiet, and I can only hope it’s because they’re working on a plan to get us out of here and not for…some other reason.

  “All right, here we go.” As the elevator doors wrench open, Cherry presses the button on the first sphere and rolls it toward the mechs. It hits one of them in the foot, then begins to flash. I hit the floor as Cherry lobs the second bomb out through the hole we climbed in through, letting it fall onto the group of mechs waiting below.

  Friday, 06-18-65 00:09:14

  FWOOM.

  MY EAR MODS pop as the office shakes around us. Its glass walls shatter, and a large chunk of the floor collapses out from under me. It’s only thanks to Rock I don’t go falling with it. He grabs my tactical vest and hauls me backwards like I don’t weigh anything at all.

  As soon as he sets me on my feet, I check on my crew. Elena is shocked but upright, one hand braced on a section of wall that survived the blast. Cherry’s grinning like a loon, and Doc has scrambled to the edge of the remaining platform. “All clear,” she says, peering down at the floor below.