She doesn’t want to kill me.
I squash the thought ruthlessly, sweeping her blows aside and answering with a shot to her visor to blind her and a hard chop to the neck to stun. Her armor holds up, and she returns with a jab to my ribs and a flurry of shots to the chest that stagger me.
The sound of gunfire and ion rounds clap like a thunderstorm. The circling chopper kicks up sweeping winds and gritty dust as it circles, exchanging shots with Dabria's men in the airship. Only seconds have passed, and only seconds remain before one side has the advantage. No matter how many battles I've been in, that much is constant. There are only heartbeats, heat, and adrenaline.
Then it's over.
Dabria advances. I leap backward, drawing my backup handgun. No hesitation. No mercy. A pull of the trigger, the gun recoils. The round detonates on impact, shattering her chest armor and knocking her several feet back, where she collapses.
I land in a crouch, staring in shock. No way it could be this easy. I've bested Dabria only once in my life, and even then I thought it was a fluke.
I approach hesitantly, wary of a trap. Her body is prone, smoke wafting from the cavity in her armor. I keep my gun trained on her; laser sight trained on her head. She doesn’t move. Blood streams from her nostrils, but the color is wrong.
It's blue.
"Synoid." I clap my hand to the com in my ear, whirling around to wave at the chopper. "Fall back; it's a trap!"
A laser beam crackles like lightning as it fires from the door of Dabria's airship. My chopper is enveloped in sizzling blue energy and tumbles in a tailspin, emergency lights flashing. I hear Zen and the others over the com, yelling as the craft goes down. The failsafe boosters activate at the last second, saving them from a disastrous crash as the chopper slams into the ground.
Dabria stands at the door, gleaming in black and magenta armor with a rocket launcher propped on her shoulder. She glances my direction and nods, an approving smile on her lips.
Then the airship lifts off like a gleaming, metallic raven and thrusts away in a gust of hot wind, quickly disappearing into the distance.
Chapter 9: 5P3CT3R
I can't remember a time when I've been so afraid.
I've worked with some dangerous people, but they were always like Keno. Slighter better than averages thugs. I make sure to steer clear of the hard hitters. People who would look at my ability for purposes other than quick and easy profit. People with agendas.
Like Dabria.
She stalks the cabin like a caged animal, eyes unfocused, lost in thought. I'm pretty sure she's thinking about the encounter between her synoid double and Enigma. The two obviously have a history, although I can't imagine how someone working for Cyber Corp could have something in common with an underground militia leader. Unless Dabria used to be with Cyber Corp. Or Enigma used to be with the DU. Either way, I'm too scared to ask Dabria. She doesn't seem the type to share information with just anyone.
I glance over at Keno, who sits beside me with a shell-shocked expression on his face. I don't blame him. I doubt he ever thought his night would end up like this.
I nudge his elbow. "Sorry about your crew."
He gives his head a regretful shake. "Yeah. Me too, bruv. Lost some of my best mates tonight." His eyes moisten as he exhales a trembling breath. "They were there because of me, you know? And I let them down. Bloody stupid plan. Should've known things would get bollixed up. Needed more time to plan things out, but I just ran with it. That was a Scyther on our tail, Specter. Bloody Cyber Corp. What the hell was I thinking?"
I open my mouth but decide to hold my reply. I feel a stab of guilt, but there's no reason for Keno to know that Enigma was there because of me, not him. The remainder of his crew sits beside him, looking completely subdued. I doubt any of them have ever been so far out of their element before.
Across from us are Dabria's crew, looking far more comfortable. And far more dangerous. Dressed in flowing long coats over sleek combat armor, they are disciplined, quiet, and reserved. Two women and three men, all barely out of their teen years. All with a fanatical fever in their eyes when they look at Dabria. I don't doubt that either one of them would gladly execute us on the spot if she gave the word.
I close my eyes and cautiously scan the airship mentally, but there are no synoids aboard. I'm pretty sure Dabria never meant to take her carbon copy back onboard after she deployed it. It served its purpose, and she wouldn't risk me core-jacking it and putting her mission in jeopardy.
Whatever her mission is.
She looks in my direction as if she can read my mind. Her fingers beckon impatiently. I stand up, feeling uneasy. Although I'm taller than she is, she still manages to dominate, motioning for her to follow her around the corner and into a tiny, cramped room. Once we're inside, she grabs my wrist and snaps a device into one of the ports in my holoband.
I snatch my arm away, staring at the contraption. "Hey, what the hell?"
A vindictive smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "That's a holoband lock. You can access your information, but you can't log into the infosphere. I can't risk having Cyber Corp track you and jeopardize the mission. Don't bother trying to remove it. Your holoband will be irrevocably damaged if any tampering is detected."
Hel. My heart tries to claw out of my chest in a panicked adrenaline rush. "You can't do this to me."
"I just did." She gestures. "Sit."
I look down. The only seat available is a toilet.
"Uh, no thanks. I'll stand."
Her eyes narrow dangerously. I sit on the toilet seat.
The walls are too close, threatening to close in on me. My heart pounds; a throbbing pulse that swells to my head and stays there, beating the walls of my skull. My pores break out in a sweat, and I can barely breathe. Pulling a Chillz pack from my interior pocket, I shakily pop a tab and toss it down my throat. All the while, Dabria silently watches with a judgmental gaze. It's been a long time since I've been the target of that much contempt.
She folds her arms. Her mouth doesn't move, but I still hear her voice in my head.
Are you finished?
My head snaps up. "How… how are you doing that? Is that… telepathy? Or some kind of trick?"
No trick. I'm not that deceptive.
"You tricked Enigma with that synoid. How'd you get a carbon copy made anyway? Those are super expensive."
I have friends in many places. But none of that is your concern.
I wince, shaking my head. "Stop it! Stop talking in my head. How the hell are you doing that, anyway?"
Her lips part, uttering the words by voice this time. "You’re not the only one with special skills, Dean."
"You're like me?"
Her face twists with undisguised scorn. "Make no mistake — we're nothing alike. The only thing in common is our extrasensory abilities."
"So, what does that mean for you? You can read my mind?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing so drastic. I can sense feelings, anticipate thoughts sometimes. And communicate without speaking. I can't read minds or control anyone, thank Allah. If I could, I would be the most powerful person alive. And the most corrupt."
"How many people like us are there?"
She shrugs. "Not many. Atavists are very rare."
"Atavists?"
"Genetic throwbacks. Some strain of DNA leftover from the Imperials, when Aberrant energy caused mutations that gave a small segment of the population various abilities. All tied into what led to the Cataclysm. Our gifts are nothing compared to the Imperials. They were gods. We're simply enhanced slightly above normal."
"Imperials." I pause in thought. "There's a lot of sectors in Elysia where you can proxy as an Imperial. Superpowers and all that. I've done a few Imperial campaigns as a proxy that had superhuman strength, could shot lasers from his eyes, and could fly."