“Jase, I swear, I don’t know if I want to kiss you or kill you. Can you blind it?”
“Sure, I’ve got root through Appho’s proprietary update kit. Just say the word and I’ll reboot the sensors. Takes them about five seconds to boot back up. Is that enough time? I’ll only be able to do it once without letting them know I’m there, their self-diagnostics are pretty hardcore.”
“Kiss you it is. When I tell you, start the reboot, exactly on my mark. Got it?”
“G-got it.”
I switch over to the command channel.
“Slend, on my mark, I want you to sever the middle power line with your deuce. Third pole juncture. Think you can make that shot?”
“In my sleep.”
“Good. Exfil after you do. Wind, when she drops the Herc, we’ve got five seconds to get across the street and into the carrier. Can you keep up?”
“Hah. You better try and keep up with me, Ash. Last one inside pays for next month’s Game subs.”
“Sounds good. Slend, in three… two… one… mark!”
The word has barely left my mouth when I’m already switching over to Jase.
“Boot it!”
I don’t wait for acknowledgment, but follow Wind out the exterior vent, hoping that Jase won’t let us down. We spend one precious second attached to the wall, screwing the vent back into place, then another launching ourselves at the alley where our carrier awaits. From Slend’s eyes, I can see the Herc guarding the front twitching in electronic agony at the power line draped across its sensor suite, fat blue sparks arcing into the air in loud crackles, the street draped in darkness once again. Then she’s descending in a swooping rush, the bulk of the carrier enfolding her almost instantly.
Wind and I hit the ground, our segmented legs absorbing the impact with minor complaints, and we streak toward the nondescript delivery hauler parked beneath a burnt-out streetlight. Two seconds. Due to the absence of hellfire raining down on us from above, I’m assuming Jase fulfilled his end of the bargain, but I don’t have time to worry about that because all I can focus on is getting to safety before my timer ticks down to zero.
One second. Gritty asphalt beneath my feet/hands, carefully adjusting weight tolerances so I don’t carve out telltale gouges from the road.
Half a second. An orange warning symbol pops up, a servo/muscle on the verge of seizing up, but I ignore it. No time to worry about anything but the run.
Tenth of a second. Articulated appendages retract beneath my gleaming ovoid body, and I’m skidding/sliding/diving toward the waiting shelter of the carrier, its bulk looming overhead, Wind by my side.
Zero. We’re underneath the hauler, popping ourselves up into its briefly open belly, snug in the magnetic cradles as hatch covers slide beneath us, the Raven’s deadly sight sweeping the street once more—but there’s nothing to witness except a silently spasming tank. Wind’s howls of triumph split the commlink, an ululating cry of victory that pierces my polymer bones.
Fuck.
That was intense.
13
[Put On a Smile]
I clumsily pull myself out of the hapsphere, goggles pushed back, white-suited technicians already rushing past to service the delicate components. I didn’t ride it as hard as Sarah’s, what seems like forever ago, but I can’t fault them their diligence. My legs wobble and I squat down, one knee flat on the rusted metal deck, arms braced against the other. It’s hard to get used to having four limbs again, harder than normal. Not quite perfectly filtered air caresses my eyes, a hint of brine riding its edges, and the touch of salt hits me with its physical weight, causing my eyes to water. I peel my hood back, feeling sweat in my hair, dead keratin strands on a fleshy shell. Wind lurches up next to me, her gait unsteady, followed shortly by Slend.
“That… wow. Wow. That was fucking epic, Ash. We were fucking epic.”
She sprawls out on her back, gasping.
“But fuck ghosting scouts.”
“Fuck scouts,” Slend grunts in agreement, then turns away and vomits a thin stream of bile. I can’t blame her. My stomach feels like it’s caught in a malfunctioning autowasher, spin cycle set to “adrenaline crash,” and my brain’s not doing much better. Running nonhuman forms properly takes a toll, and once again I wonder how Hammer felt in the dragon’s skin. Wonder if his comedown is the same as this.
Booted footsteps sound from behind, a steady staccato pace. Wearily, I push myself upright, still on one knee.
“Sawyer.”
“Ashley. Good work. Your mother would’ve been impressed.”
“Mom isn’t allowed to handle anything more dangerous than noodles because of what you did to her, Sawyer. What the hell was going on with those scout senses? That didn’t feel at all like the Game.”
“I told you it was going to be intense. Our gear gives you all the input, Ashley.”
I shiver, still not fully myself. If that’s what it’s like every time…
“Was the op a success?”
“Yes. We’re going over the data now. You and your team should get some rest.”
“Piss off. You don’t tell us what to do.”
My stomach growls, energy burn overtaking the adrenaline, squashing the body displacement. I pretend like I didn’t hear it. Sawyer, to his credit, does likewise. I creak into a standing position.
“We’re gonna get some food. You better have a worthwhile kitchen here. C’mon, ladies, let’s hit the showers first.”
Slend and I offer a hand to Wind, pulling her upright, all of us leaning on each other, hot water our only goal.
Sawyer doesn’t say anything as we stumble off, and I almost begin to think he might have a heart. Then I remember Mom, how many walks she must have made like this, losing a little bit more of herself after each ghost, and suddenly it’s all I can do not to add my vomit on the floor next to Slend’s.
The other two feel me tense up, and shift so they’re supporting more of my weight.
“Something wrong, Ash?” Wind whispers, her head touching mine.
“Let’s just get to those showers,” I croak back. I can’t talk about this. Not so soon after an op. Not without water and food, without something to make me feel human again.
Mercifully, they both remain silent, Slend bumping the locker room door open with a shaking elbow. A pile of towels sits on one of the splintering wooden benches, brown, shapeless robes next to them, wireframe lockers stretching along the walls, but other than that the room is empty, no sign of any gummie presence.
“Of course. Can’t contaminate their precious ‘purity,’” I hiss, tearing my suit off in agonizing slow motion, letting it crumple to the floor. I snatch a towel and stagger over to a shower, violently wrenching the knob. Water jets from the small spout above, cool at first, then warm, then painfully hot, steam misting into the white-tiled room and obscuring the walls. I hear Wind and Slend join me, adding their own splashing groans to the clouding soup.
I lose myself for a while, letting the beating spray wash away my sweat and pain, my thoughts and memories. I am nothing but the pressure of wet heat, a shapeless mote in an unending sea. Floating on a cumulus of nonexistence, gray currents swirling my—
“…sh. Ash. Ash.”
Reality snaps back in, along with Wind’s voice. I sigh.