“You don’t want to push on a little further?” she asked. “See if there’s something a little more…” She trailed off, not being able to find the word.
Three shook his head.
“Better to dig in here. There may be something sturdier another mile in, but it won’t do us any good if we’re staring at it when they come.”
Wordlessly, he went to work, and they spent the next twenty minutes tunneling a small nest for themselves back in the darkest corner of the shelter, and filling in holes where they could with debris. Cass suspected hiding would do little good out here. She eventually realized Three was going to so much trouble in an effort to give them an impression of safety, even if there was none to be had. By the time they’d finished working, they had a fully enclosed space with a narrow entrance. It would be a tight fit.
Three threw their packs down first, and then had Wren climb into the urban nest on top of them. Once Wren was inside, Three crouched at the entrance and reached inside, rustling Wren’s hair.
“You get some sleep, Mister Wren. We’ve got a long walk ahead of us tomorrow, OK?”
“OK,” Wren said. He nestled down as best he could atop the packs and lay on his side; curled, still, eyes open.
“Hey,” Three said. Wren looked at him, moving only his eyes. “You got your knife in there?”
Wren didn’t nod or take his eyes off Three. He gently rocked back just enough to show his tiny fist beneath his body, already clutching the grip of the blade Three had made for him. Three nodded, and Wren rolled back into his previous position, and stared at the wall.
“I’m gonna talk to your mama for a minute, alright?”
Wren just nodded. He blinked once, long and slow. Three stood and tugged Cass away from the entrance.
“How’re you doing?” he asked.
Cass shrugged. “Tired. But I’m fine.”
“You good to boost if you have to?”
She nodded. “I’m still running the first stack jCharles gave me. Still got a couple of shots left in it if I need them.”
“You won’t need ’em,” he said, too quickly. “Just wanted to be sure you were set.” He looked at her for a long moment, as if he had more to say. But then, he just added, “Alright. Let’s get you in there.”
He turned back towards the little shelter, but Cass stopped him with a question.
“Three, what’d you do?” she asked. He stopped. Just stood there for a moment. Still, the way only he could be, like he’d just turned to stone. Or had always been. “To get disconnected, I mean.”
He turned slowly, with a grim look. Wrestled. With the confession, she assumed.
“Whatever it was, I can handle it. You can tell me.”
“I know,” he said. He stared at the ground for a long breath, then inhaled sharply through his nose. Held. Then looked up, and answered.
“To be disconnected, you gotta be connected in the first place.” That took Cass by surprise. There was no way Three was old enough to have been born before they’d gone genetic, before connection had become inherited, like brown eyes, or high cheekbones.
“I… don’t understand.”
“You’re not supposed to, Cass. No one’s supposed to.”
“What, both your parents were sanitized or something?”
“I don’t know,” he answered, stepping closer. “I don’t know who my parents were.” He looked to the ground, then away to the horizon. Another step closer. “But I’m not what you think.”
“Then tell me what you are, Three. Tell me who you are.”
He turned his shoulder to her then, leaned against the broken wall, slid down it until he was seated. And suddenly he looked desperately weary. After long moments of silence, Cass sat down next to him.
“Back… before,” he started. Then, he raised a hand and swept it over the Strand. “Before. I was born into a very particular family. Raised for a very particular reason.”
She sat in silence, sensing that Three was fighting himself. Wanting to tell a story, his story, one that he’d kept secret for perhaps as long as he’d been alive.
“I lied before,” he said. “When I told you I had a sister. There was a girl, but she wasn’t my sister. I loved her like one. At least, I loved her the way I’d guess you might love a sister. We grew up together, in the same House anyway.”
He put a curious emphasis on the way he said house, as if it meant more than the building in which he’d grown up.
“We grew up together. We were the same. And they taught us, they trained us, to do certain things, to be certain things. When everyone in the world is connected… well, I guess there were uses for people like me. But then the world changed, Cass. And my House fell. And all those things we’d been trained to do didn’t matter anymore. Not in the same way. And they didn’t help me protect her. Not when I needed to most.”
He went quiet after that, and still, and the sun continued to slip below the horizon. After a while, he broke the silence.
“How long do you have?”
Cass understood the question, wondered how long he’d been wanting to ask it.
“A few months, I’d guess. Give or take.”
“Nothing to do?”
She shook her head. “It’s the quint. A body can only run so hot for so long.”
“Not even genework? Nerve replacement?”
“No. Believe me, I’ve looked. But no. When I went chemic, I knew what I was in for. But when you’re fifteen, living to thirty seems like forever.”
“That how you got hooked up with RushRuin? Pulling speedruns and security?”
Her turn now. It was only fair. She took a breath, and started in.
“It wasn’t RushRuin when I got started. There was a man, and I was young and scared. He wasn’t nice, but he was strong. And he liked me, so I let him.”
She hadn’t thought back to those early days in a long time. It seemed like someone else’s life.
“Called himself Zenith,” she said, with a scoff. All these years, it still sounded ridiculous. “Thought he was the ‘true peak of man’. He put a crew together, and let me tag along as his showpiece, used me when it suited him. Wasn’t too happy when I turned up pregnant.”
“And this is the guy you’re taking Wren to?” He sounded skeptical. Maybe a hint of shock, or anger.
“No, he wasn’t Wren’s father,” she replied. Hesitated. But they were being honest now, and it somehow felt right to tell the whole story. “He was Asher’s.”
Three didn’t respond, not verbally, but she could feel the realization sweep over him.
“Asher’s your son,” Three said. His tone even, controlled.
“Wren’s brother,” she added. “Well… half-brother.”
He made no further comment, and Cass suddenly felt compelled to fill in the blanks. “Zenith’s crew was pretty good in the small-time, back when we were running standard jobs. Sec/Net stuff mostly, identity spoofing sometimes. That’s when I started dosing. Making myself useful, you know.”
She didn’t say it, but she couldn’t forget the terrifying nights she’d withstood from Zenith, just to keep Asher safe.
“Eventually, we started getting attention from some big players, and Zenith brought in people like Jez, and Fedor and Kostya. They were fresh on the scene then, but they’d already dusted off some important people.”
“And that’s when you started the brain gigs?”
Cass shook her head. “Not until Wren’s father showed up. He was light years ahead of everyone else. Not just in our crew, everyone. The whole scene. As far as he was concerned, Sec/Net was doing things the hard way. He’d figured out how to go straight to the source. Right into someone’s head, find what you need, get back out.