She looked him in the eye. “Nate, I … they might have—”
“Yeah,” he said. “They might have. But they might not, so let’s worry about that shit at another time.”
There was a popping sound from the room, and both Nate and Grace looked. The queen was rising from behind a bank of crumbling desks towards the back. Some of the eggs looked to have hatched, smaller warrior drones, about the size of a cat, surrounded her.
“Oh, come on!” said Nate. “Fucking Ezeroc. They come in different sizes now?”
One of the smaller insects leapt forward — agile little fuckers. Nate popped a shot into the room, but the newborn Ezeroc skipped sideways, like a toy car with attitude.
“We should go,” said Grace. “Nate, we should go.”
“You don’t need to tell me twice,” said Nate. He heard a pop, and another Ezeroc hatched from an egg. Two of them together darted towards the doorway. Nate got three shots off, three shots that missed, plasma splashing against the walls and back window of the room, this last shot bursting it out in a spray of shards. Then the insects were on them.
There was a blur, almost too fast to register, and the insects fell apart, cut in half. Grace shook Nate’s sword, splatters of insect gore hitting the ceramicrete. “Ah,” said Nate. “Now I remember why I hired you.”
“You didn’t hire me, Nathan Chevell,” said Grace. “You were tricked.”
“I know,” said Nate. “But I was helped, too.” He flashed her a grin, hoping she could see it through the visor, the sealant, and the weld.
She gave him a look, something uncertain in it, then turned on her heel and headed down the stairs.
• • •
Nate felt like he was rushing, flying almost, to keep up with Grace. She was taking the stairs like dancers took to the stage, like movement was something she was born to do. Nate felt like he was struggling to keep up, his metal leg clanking instead of being limber, his metal hand keeping him off balance.
It was all in his mind, of course. The leg was top shelf tech, and so was the hand. Weighted and balanced, the medtechs had told him, to be just like the original. So he wouldn’t know anything bad had happened, tricking his mind into believing he wasn’t missing parts of himself. The only thing, they’d joked, was that he’d need to eat a little less now, because he didn’t need fuel for that excess 5 or 10 kilos he was missing. Fastest way to lose weight, they’d also joked. Like, ha ha, right until Nate had looked like he wanted to kill them.
Because he had.
And no matter what they said, no matter how good the damn tech was, he knew. His arm and leg were gone, and these metal pegs they’d stuck on him weren’t worth half a real man’s hand or leg. They didn’t feel right, and they didn’t feel right when it counted.
Like when you were running after someone like your life depended on it. Now was one of those fucking times, and he wished, just for a second, one of those medtechs was here, with him, so Nate could see the ha ha fade away, replaced with oh shit we’re all going to die.
His metal leg slipped, skidding against the stairs, and because of that he hadn’t noticed that Grace had stopped, like she’d been planted in the ground, roots dug deep, and when he started running again he ran right into the back of her. She stumbled, turned to him, then her eyes went wide at something behind him. He didn’t even bother to turn, because turning got you killed in all the holos he’d ever watched. Instead, he raised his blaster at the warrior drone coming up the steps, sidled past Grace, and pulled the trigger until the Ezeroc stopped moving, burning pieces of it falling into the stairwell.
He turned, saw that one of those fuckers had been about to chew his ass from behind, and that Grace had killed it. A clean slice, top left to bottom right, at least that’s what it looked like. The top piece was gone, down the stairwell — there’d be a decent pile by now at the bottom, insects plus a rifle — and only the body was left to bleed green on the stairs.
“Why’d you stop?” said Nate.
Grace pointed at one human stuck to the wall, tentacles still in the mouth. “They’re … almost dead,” she said. “Inside. Their minds are…”
“Uh,” said Nate. “Queen keeping the bodies alive?”
“I think,” said Grace, “but also feeding on them. Their bodies, and their minds.” She was panting, but her eyes were bright as she looked at him. “It feels good to breathe,” she said. “To not be feeding her mind.”
“Yeah,” said Nate. “That why you took off your helmet?”
“No,” she said. “I had put down the sword. When I put it down, they got … inside.” She held it up. “What is it?”
“Gift from a friend,” he said. “If we get out of this alive, I’ll tell you all about it.” Then he raised his blaster and shot the Ezeroc coming around the bend of stairs above them. “If we get out of this alive.”
“You’re not inspiring confidence,” she said.
“Hey,” he said. “We wouldn’t even be here if you hadn’t stolen my damn sword.”
She held it out to him. “Want it back?”
“Later,” he said. “Look, more important stuff is raining down on us.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I think I fucked up. I think I fucked everything up.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But let’s talk about those big fuckers.”
“They’re controlled by the Queen,” said Grace. “The smaller drones have some autonomy. Or … something that keeps them wound up when the Queen’s gone. Instinct, maybe.”
“It’s like a hive?” said Nate.
“Maybe,” said Grace, “but there aren’t any words that can explain it.”
“Got you,” said Nate, then pointed his blaster down the stairwell, unloading plasma into an Ezeroc coming up at them. “Persistent fuckers, aren’t they?”
“You shot their Queen,” said Grace. “They’ll be coming for you.”
“They can take a fucking number,” said Nate. He ejected the battery from his blaster and slipped a new one home. The weapon whined, clicked, and was ready to fire. He looked at it, then back at Grace. “Ready for round two?”
Her eyes searched his face. “Why did you come, Nathan Chevell?”
“You took my sword,” said Nate. “Also, you’re on my crew.”
“But I lied to you,” she said. “You’ve known since before. At the fallen city.”
“I’ll be docking your pay for that,” said Nate. He looked at his feet, that one metal leg hidden in his suit, then his hand. Not even half a real man, unless you look after you and yours. He looked her in the eye, “You've ... helped. Plenty, when you had no cause to. And you’re still on my crew. Don’t … just don’t forget it this time. Hope would miss you.”
“Hope, huh?” she said. Then, “I won’t.” She continued down the stairs ahead of him. Grace moved like he wanted to if it wasn’t for his damn leg.
• • •
Outside the base of the tower, shit got real.
Nate had never found his rifle. All the way down those stairs he’d been looking for it, because Kohl would want it back. The man was a, what would you call it, a collector, a connoisseur of firearms, and this was a souvenir of some job or other. Well, nothing for that now. Nate still wished he’d found it, not because of Kohl, but because of the ring of Ezeroc waiting at the base of the tower.
“Could you,” said Grace, “call in the Tyche? Like before.”