Deadwire

by A K Blake

  He thought he heard an intake of breath, as if Mykal wanted to say something more, but then he stopped. Later he thought he might have imagined it. And then Mykal was gone, closing the door so softly there was not even a rush of wind as he walked away.

  Chapter 23

  “It’s finished.”

  It was none too soon either. The programming had taken longer than she’d hoped, not the least because her body had given out and plunged her into a near-coma after the third day in a row with minimal sleep. There was now barely one night until the match. Iona tried not to think about the time she’d lost, tried not to dwell on each breath, knowing that the number of minutes left in her life was now limited. Her life was suddenly finite, a countable number. At least she had been distracted by the sphere, not wallowing in her own self-pity for her last nights on earth.

  “So what do I do again?”

  Luca was in her cell, ostensibly on clean up (Iona had become quite messy). He seemed on edge, though she supposed she would be as well if she were in his shoes.

  “It’s all on the paper I gave you. You just plug in the sphere to the terminal with the cord you got...you got it, right? Ok, and then you run the commands I wrote down, and it will execute the program. Try to hide the sphere somewhere under or near the terminal if you can, but make sure it stays plugged in. I don’t know how many tries it takes before it times out or how long the timeout will be for, so it’s best if you just leave it to run and check on it every so often. It could take a whole night or even more if we’re unlucky.”

  “And if we’re very unlucky?”

  “You’d better hope we’re not.”

  Not the least because if they were very unlucky, she would be dead.

  “How does the vampire look?”

  “Worse I think. I heard someone coughing earlier tonight, but I’m not sure whether it was her or some other prisoner.”

  Swallowing, Iona nodded. Luca began to back out the door.

  “I have to go before someone notices how long I’ve been gone.”

  She strained after him, watching out the tiny window long after he’d disappeared from sight. With her entire being, she willed it to work. It had to.

  ***

  Getting the sphere plugged in and executing the program Iona had written was almost as easy as she’d made it sound. The second plug Luca tried fit the ports on both ends, and it only took him three tries to get the thing running, mostly because his hands were shaking. He tried his best to avoid looking over his shoulder every few seconds, sure that someone would see him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

  But then it was over, the screen on the terminal moving as if of its own volition. It was like magic, watching passwords type themselves out, get rejected, and type again. Pulling himself away, he went about his duties and tried to act as if everything were normal, as if his heart weren’t pounding on overdrive, as if he didn’t feel he were floating outside himself. Push the cart. Don’t do anything weird. Look bored. At least there were plenty of other thoughts with which to distract himself. He supposed that was one thing, at least, for which he could thank Mykal.

  ***

  Iona had told him to wait at least until the dinner break to check on the program, but the terminal pulled him, interrupting even his spiraling thoughts about that last conversation with Mykal, still so fresh in his memory. He was acutely aware of the terminal’s location, his body leaning toward it from anywhere he was. After two hours of torment, he found he couldn’t wait.

  A guard stopped him on his way out of the pit. It was the red-haired one that had interrupted him and Iona before. Luca felt his heart double thump in his chest. He knew. Maybe the workman told him, decided he was a liability and double crossed him. Maybe Iona told him, sold him out to get herself out of jail…

  “How’s your girlfriend doing?”

  “Huh? I don’t...I mean, fine. As good as can be expected I guess.”

  “Well, it’s a shame you two don’t get more time. If you need a shoulder to cry on later, I’ll be around.”

  It took Luca far too long to realize the guard was flirting, morbidly and not very well, but still. He smiled genuinely from relief in a way that might have given the guard the wrong idea, or perhaps in this case it was exactly the right one.

  “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The conversation lingered in his mind as he reached the terminal. He supposed he was single now. Starting a new relationship based on a lie wasn’t exactly a promising beginning. Then again, it didn’t have to be anything serious...his thoughts slowly tumbled to a halt as he stared at the terminal screen. It was displaying something he hadn’t seen before, though he’d dreamt about it as he tossed and turned anxiously in the days leading up to tonight. It was a menu. And as a sign flashed, and numbers began to count down, he realized his session was timing out.

  “No!”

  He reached the keys too late. Yanking the sphere out from the nook in which he’d hidden it, he consulted the display. The last password entry had been saved. He felt his body flood with relief. It was over. They had done it. He was going to save his father. He was going to be richer than he’d ever dreamed.

  Just then his spore rang. Automatically, he answered, still staring at the sphere display in elation.

  “Hello?”

  “Oh hi, uh...is this a bad time?”

  It was Mykal. Suddenly he had a good feeling, like everything in the universe was coming together, like all of his problems would work themselves out.

  “No! No, this is perfect.”

  “Ok. Well...I feel really bad about...how I handled things the other night. I wanted to tell you before, but...I just didn’t really know how to explain it. And then I meant to explain in person, but I got there, and nothing went the way I meant for it to, and the memories and the...temptations were just kind of overwhelming. Basically, I guess I was too much of a coward.”

  “To tell me what? That you’re breaking up with me? I figured that out. It wasn’t that big of a surprise, to be honest. I’m more of an addict than you are—were—and it’s annoying. It’s ok, I get it.”

  “No, that’s not...it’s not because of the drugs. Well, it sort of is, but mostly...I joined the military.”

  “You...what?”

  Of all the things he could have said, this was perhaps the least expected. Luca tried to picture him, languid, lazing Mykal, wearing exosuits and running around shooting people. It was so ridiculous he let out a snort of laughter before he could think. He tried to apologize as he walked back toward the pit, but Mykal sounded a bit stiff after that.

  “I know it’s probably strange to you, but my brother, he was killed in action. And when I saw that thing about the Ithscans attacking on the news, I just...I wanted to do something about it, you know? I couldn’t stand the idea that my brother died, and then when the enemies he fought off came calling again, I just sat around doped up and did nothing. Does that...can you understand?”

  “Mykal, I’m sorry. Yes, of course I can understand.”

  “Thanks. Look, I’m not sure how long I’ll be out here, but...I’d like to see you when I’m home. Maybe video chat a little, keep in touch. You know.”

  Luca’s heart fluttered against his better judgement. Mykal still cared about him, Mykal wanted him.

  Trying to keep his voice nonchalant, he said, “Sure, that would be nice.”

  “Great. And, Luca, I don’t want to sound like your dad or anything, but you really might want to lay off the matra. Now that I’m sober, sure it sucks sometimes, but I realized I was kind of using it as a crutch.”

  “Don’t push your luck. I said I understand, I didn’t say I’m not upset. Even if you’re right, that’s a pretty rich statement, coming from you. Who was it that got me smoking in the first place again?”

  He mumbled something Luca couldn’t hear. Luca sighed.

  “Look, while we’re baring our souls and everything, there’s something I need to tell you
too. That time you saw the message on my spore…”

  “What message?”

  “The one about the GroundCom code.”

  “Oh, that hoax thing?”

  “Yeah...Mykal, there’s something I should have told you about. I—"

  Just then he reached the glass door to the pit, only to be greeted by the sight of Iona as she was escorted from her cell by the red-headed guard and another one. Ahead of her, the vampire he’d been slowly poisoning was disappearing from view. It wasn’t her time, but games were constantly getting rescheduled. They must have moved up her match.

  Though he hadn’t known her long, Luca felt a strange connection to the dark-skinned girl, not only that he was in her debt but as if they were important to each other, bonded by a force and a situation no one else would be able to understand.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll tell you later actually. I have to go.”

  “Wait, what were you—"

  Hanging up the spore as Mykal was mid sentence, he burst through the door to the pit before it was fully retracted, launching himself into her path before the guards had a chance to react. Wrapping his arms around her as if in a lover’s embrace, he whispered in her ear, “It worked.” Then the guards were pulling him off of her, more gently than they might have, considering the situation.

  She gave him a dazed half smile.

  “I’m glad.”

  They were really prying him off of her now. Letting go, he stumbled back.

  “Dieda’s blessings! Good fortune be upon you!”

  Huffy, the guards straightened their uniforms with a meaningful look in his direction and began leading her away. The last thing he saw as she rounded the corner was a final wave of that rebellious mane of hair.

  ***

  Iona didn’t feel ready. Everything seemed far away, sounds dampened, her world going dizzy. Snap out of it. This was different from when she’d killed the other vampire. She hadn’t had time to think then, hadn’t had time to build it up or to imagine the million ways in which it could go wrong. It had been instinct and luck, a whole lot of luck. She prayed to Dieda in uncharacteristic fashion that such luck would be with her now, as a transparent reflexor shield was cuffed around her left arm, a shocksword thrust into her other hand. An attendant cinched armour around her torso and limbs, effective pieces of nearly impenetrable para-aramid fiber panels joined together strategically by far less protective elastic material. The shocksword was heavy, much heavier than the pulsor knife had been, and she felt her muscles strain just to keep it from plunging point-first into the ground. Awkwardly, she tried a swipe and was disappointed by barely any buzz.

  She had been given a brief training session, if one could call it that, by a human rights activist, a young female vampire from the Munificent Party. She hadn’t been allowed inside the cell but had hastily explained the match to Iona through the small window in the door, holding up some diagrams on her spore that Iona could just make out. Start up high with the shocksword, cut diagonally. That’s best. And try keep your shield up, make sure you stay behind it. Remembering this advice, she tested her swing again, hefting the sword high as best she could and swiping downward toward the opposite side. The weight and momentum carried it down in a rush, and this time her efforts were rewarded as the blade crackled blue with energy.

  It was certainly an improvement, but it felt like it had taken far too much time to be effective in a match. Starting once more, she pulled the sword to the other side this time, over her shield, swiping down and back to the other side with all her weight. Humming like a livewire, it released a blast of energy that carried outward several feet, eliciting a yelp from the guard standing by the door. Better, certainly better.

  “It’s time.”

  Nodding at her, the guard slapped the digipad, opening the door to the arena.

  ***

  The cheers swarmed through first, a roar that she felt like a physical force as it rushed against her. As the door lifted from the ground upward, she was treated to a view of the ring, circles expanding outward across the floor like a ripple until the mat reached the containment wall. Atop the wall sat the vampire VIPs, and beyond them the faceless masses, poor vampires and humans like herself, towering upward like a tidal wave, crushing her below them with the weight of their need. Here they were to revel in the misfortune of others, here they were to be entertained. Iona felt desperation turn to hate, bubbling up within her like crude oil, fuel for what would happen next. Turning her head, she spat on the arena floor. This was not how she died.

  There were large screens at either end of the ring with giant faces plastered across them. Iona recognized her mugshot, the jagged double lines of her scars glaring against her skin. It was suddenly replaced by another dark face, one that was familiar, the profile sharp even though the shot was from a distance. It was a live feed of the Prince in his box seat. She hadn’t realized the games garnered such celebrity support. Then again, she supposed with a war looming it was his duty to rally patriotic fervor.

  Such thoughts were wiped from her mind as a massive timer that had been counting down in the corner of the screens suddenly accelerated into seconds, a rapid ticking accompanying it. Across the ring she could see her opponent, a ruddy blond vampire, shorter than Iona but husky. She swung her shocksword, and the crowd screamed as the blast of energy shot out ahead of her. Iona felt some of her rage dissipate, hot anger turning icy with fear.

  Reaching zero, the clock stopped ticking. A voice boomed out over the arena.

  “Begin!”

  The vampire did not waste time. From a running start across the arena, she launched herself at Iona, devolving into a blur of blue and blond. Ducking instinctively, Iona just had time to crouch behind her shield as the vampire's blow clanged against it, the force of the hit shoving her body back several feet. Her left arm buzzed from the vibration, and it was all she could do to keep her shield aloft. Luckily, the full impact of the shockwave was dampened by the shield, but her feet tingled unpleasantly as the edges of the current grazed them.

  Trying frantically to regroup, Iona searched for her opponent. The vampire appeared to have struck and retreated to the far end of the ring. Crouching down, Iona inched backward, keeping her shield toward the vampire. Several seconds passed. It was hard to think past the whirlwind of mounting terror in her brain. What was the vampire waiting for? The tone of the crowd changed almost imperceptibly, and the vampire scowled. Panting, she made a sideways motion with her head, as if trying to shake off the crowd. She swung her shocksword, and there was a resulting electric blast, but it was far too distant to reach Iona.

  Too soon, she ran at Iona again. This time, however, though her thrust was again blunted by Iona’s shield, her blade continued clumsily across the edge. Sparks flew as the tip of the vampire’s sword grated against the para-aramid fiber covering Iona’s chest. The shock wave from the swing hit Iona full on this time, causing her body to seize. Pain wracked her, as her teeth ground together and her muscles froze.

  But Iona had thought this scenario through. In the split second before the vampire reached her, she turned slightly toward the oncoming charge and stuck her sword out, so that the tip jutted past her shield. She clutched the hilt to her stomach to keep it upright. By the time the vampire arrived, the tip of the heavy blade had already began to fall, but then Iona’s body was rendered immobile by the shock wave. Her sword remained partly extended, locked at a downward 45 degree angle.

  The vampire fell away, and Iona felt the pain of release as the electricity dissipated. Her heart jumped in a fleeting moment of hope as she caught a glimpse of red. Blood dripped from the vampire’s calf where she had impaled her leg on Iona’s shocksword.

  Yet her victory was short lived. Iona had no chance to get her bearings before the vampire attacked again, this time changing tactics and flickering toward her sword side. The vampire swung up and over, avoiding Iona’s clumsy attempt at blocking with her own weapon. The vampire’s sword came down hard on top
of Iona's shield shoulder, and there was an intense burst of pain as the blade continued down her arm. More sparks exploded in Iona’s face as the metal tip grinded against the hard panels of armour covering her shoulder and bicep. Then her entire arm went numb.

  Looking down, Iona realized in an out-of-body way that the vampire’s sword had found a weak spot. The blade had nicked her through the elastic that connected the arm panels at her elbow. Bright red showed through the fabric, quickly spilling out and staining it a richer black. Iona’s shield hung uselessly toward the ground. She tried to pull it up, but it was too heavy. The crowd roared, a dull wall of sound that barely penetrated the rushing of her own blood in her ears. Then the vampire flickered back into view, finishing what she’d started as she sliced neatly through the soft joint tissue in the crook of Iona’s elbow. Her shield dropped to the floor.

  Iona heard someone scream. It seemed very close, right inside her eardrums. The end of her forearm was bleeding, vivid red spurting from the bend in her arm. She tried to pick her shield up from where it had fallen, but her hand failed to respond. There was something wrong, but there was so much blood, it was hard to see. It was like some kind of illusion, almost like the rest of her forearm wasn’t there.

  Then Iona saw it, almost a meter away, dead fingers still curled around the handle of her shield. The was a ringing in her ears, and world started to tilt. Her left arm had been severed at the elbow. There was a piece of her just lying on the floor.

  Dazed, Iona turned to look for the vampire, only to feel a sudden pressure behind her, as if something were pushing against the side of her ribs. There was a familiar sensation of wind, and the vampire reappeared, clutching the pommel of her shocksword, the blade of which was sunk three quarters of the way into Iona’s side. Time seemed to slow. For a moment, it was as if nothing had happened. Iona looked over her shoulder, right into the vampire's face, as she pulled her bloody sword from Iona’s ribs. Her eyes were wild, black all the way to the lids. But her face was pale, and her forehead was beaded with sweat.