by Ada Redmond
I pushed myself up the bed by small, careful degrees. "Thoughtful of you. Where is she?"
"Being held at the Met. Seems we had a number of security breaches last night. My new Chief is understandably upset by the whole ordeal."
I probably shouldn't have grinned quite as wide as I did, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't know Denton had a soft spot for me. "I bet."
"It was all in the name of self-defence, I understand. Though Mike is probably feeling a little less forgiving at the moment."
I flinched.
"A number of files made their way across my desk this morning, along with a rather detailed explanation and a recording of what happened in the Tech Centre. Some of them had notes attached, rather harshly written ones. Your associate seems to think I need to be a bit more selective in my recruitment process in the future."
I shook my head. "She was a good actor, it turns out. You find out who she was working for?"
"The AlekseiCorp, we think, though there's nothing official to tie her to them, of course. All charges against you and your associate have been dropped, in case that wasn't clear. I'm here to apologise in person for the undue stress their issue may have caused. And for the unfortunate events leading to you once again being admitted here."
He stood up, placing the magazine gently on the table over my bed and folding his hands. "The new man is good, I must say," he said after a moment. "He came to me earlier in the week with the suggestion that whoever had planted that device in the lab was still on our payroll. I was never comfortable with letting you leave like that, you know."
I sighed. "More than one bad choice was made that day, I guess."
"I'd have you back in a heartbeat if you were interested, Miss Morgan."
I let him stew for a few seconds, but after all the years of making a career out of protecting him, I couldn't help but shoot him a smile. "It's a tempting offer, boss," I admitted. "But I've only just got my new office the way I like it."
He looked down at me. "Ah, yes, about that. Please send us the bill for any repairs you might require. I understand the Praetorians we sent to find you were rather... enthusiastic."
"Great."
They kept me in for nearly a week, fussing over my implants as much as the latest hole in my chest. Of course she'd gone for the fleshy parts. Half my midsection was built like armour now, but she'd known exactly where to aim.
I eventually stepped back out into the sunlight five days later, having had a couple of visits from friends including, hilariously, Lenny and a few of his boys. The nurses had scowled up a storm, but they'd only actually got themselves kicked out after they started lighting up. The rest of the time it was mostly Kova care packages and news hounds after a story. I found myself feeding them the company line, just like I had done before, but made sure to mention that I was freelance these days.
With any luck, business might pick up again. I didn't hear anything from Terminal, but I wasn't surprised. I probably wouldn't unless I went back into the tunnels. It was enough to know she'd had the heat taken off her. Well, that's what I told myself, anyway.
I stopped by my office first, sighing at how much of a mess the Praetorians had managed to make despite the fact I had barely any furniture. Two of my window monitors were cracked, but they were still managing to display my business inbox, the count of new mail clocking in at an impressive six hundred and forty-two.
I recorded footage of the damages and sent mail through to Kova's finance team with a small note to tell Mike in Security to call me so I could beg his forgiveness over a cold one.
The trams were as packed as ever, but I didn't have the energy to walk the distance home, so I pulled my hood up and kept my head down for the duration. It was a slow ride, and by the time I hit Knightsbridge, I was ready to drop. Even just waiting for the door to open sapped the last of my energy.
"So I thought everyone up here lived in, like, the lap of luxury or something, but this place is smaller than some of the shelters on the freaking Northern Line."
She was perched on the arm of my couch, flicking through the channels on the satellite feed. "I mean, I thought the term 'cube' was just a silly nickname. I didn't realise it was fucking literal."
I stared at her. "Who'd you bribe to get topside?"
She winked. "Bloke at the Angel checkpoint owed me a favour."
I dropped my jacket to the floor and wandered over, sitting down and kicking off my boots with a sigh. "I take it the fire alarm that night was your handiwork."
She blushed, ducking her head and rubbing a hand over the back of her neck. "Uh, yeah. I guess I saw her point that gun at you and maybe panicked just a bit."
I snorted. "Good going, hacker."
She settled down next to me and I let the sound of broken off sentences wash over the room as she cycled through channel after channel.
"What's your name?" I asked after a while, breathing in and enjoying the kind of comfort that you only ever really feel after you've been away from home for a while. I was still on a hell of a lot of drugs, which made the moment a lot softer than it probably was in reality. But even as a part of me was still bitter and upset about Danny having never really been the person I thought she was, another was excited at the prospect of a new beginning.
"Hannah," she said eventually.
"Allyn," I said, offering her my left hand.
She shook it, her fingers lingering over the mechanical fibres, studying them.
"I was thinking," she said, turning more fully towards me. "About what a good team we made. And about how you clearly need help with this new business venture of yours."
"Were you really."
"Uh-huh. I mean, if you honestly think your future is in decade-old missing persons and the occasional cheating spouse, then you're gonna need a tech. A decent one. Not one that goes around setting people up with shoddily made viruses."
"And what makes you think I'm not a decent tech?"
She looked down her nose at me. "Your door code is your birth year."
I sighed. I'd really have to change that. "Point taken."
She finally settled on a station running adverts about a new line of cellular implants similar to the one I had and nudged my thigh with her foot. "We'd be good together."
"Yeah," I agreed with a grin, feeling my head fall back, heavy with the drugs and the weight of the day. "Apparently I have a type."
FIN
About the Author
Ada Redmond is a self-confessed hermit and robot enthusiast hailing from Suffolk in the United Kingdom. When she’s not tinkering with model spaceships or playing video games, she’s writing or reading instead. Her primary goal is to someday own a windmill, on the moon.