She spat blood on the rooftop. “Yeah, right.”
“Why not? You always were good with that hot little mouth. Guess Kavel managed to teach you something.”
Dona felt her face wipe clean of expression.
“Did you really think I didn’t know?” There was that crazy laugh again. “Baby, I cracked your psych file a year ago. Poor little Dona. A dirty pedi’s sex slave. No wonder you fell for me. You were all but programmed to be somebody’s victim.”
The icy shock shattered like a scum of ice over a puddle. Dona snarled in rage.
She’d always wondered if Ivar knew her secret, but she’d never been sure.
“Kept you guessing, didn’t I?” Ivar taunted. “Even when I all but told you I knew everything, I’d toss in some little comment to make you wonder. I could see you struggling to puzzle it out. Stupid little . . .”
In her fury, Dona automatically let her eyes slide out of focus, just as she’d once probed the computer defenses of the Xeran priests Kavel sent her to kill.
Once Ivar’s comp had been typical Galactic Union tech, but all those Xeran upgrades he’d boasted about had changed that. Now his neurocomp was more Xeran than not—and so was its software.
As she studied the glowing mesh of his firewall, Dona’s heart sank. It’s so much more complicated than their old tech. So complex, in fact, it took her a moment to spot a familiar weakness she’d used against the priests all those years ago. Still there, Dona thought in amazement. The lazy bastards just built the new software over the old code.
She’d never realized it before because she no longer needed to use her old code knife. Her tech had been upgraded with Enforcer systems that were a match for the priests’.
And that meant . . .
It had been years since she’d generated a code knife, but some skills you never forgot. She curled her fist around the imaginary blade.
“Last chance, slut,” Ivar sneered, drawing back his quantum blade. “Are you going to beg for mercy, or are you going to die?”
Hiding her delight, Dona snarled, “Fuck. Off.”
He shrugged. “Too bad. I was looking forward to fucking you up the . . .”
Dona stabbed the code knife right into his forehead, where the firewall mesh originated. The firewall shattered. His eyes went wide just as the priests’ had every time she’d used that trick on them. He froze, just as unable to move.
Grinning in triumph, Dona slid into his neurocomp. This would be a great opportunity to raid his comp for useable information . . .
Then she spotted what appeared to be a twisted cable of code leading off through virtual space. She stared at it, puzzled. The cable burned far brighter than the rest of Ivar’s software. In fact, it was brighter than any priest’s she’d ever seen, though it also looked kinked, as if something had twisted it. She followed it . . .
Right to the Victor.
Wait. What had Ivar said? Your lover’s trying to crack the Victor . . . Alerio must be trying to help Nick and his team infect the giant; nobody was better at compcracking than Dyami . . .
Except Dyami didn’t know about Dona’s code blade. It had never occurred to her to tell him, since she’d never suspected the flaw would be usable. Five years, after all, was plenty of time for the Xerans to discover and repair it.
Yet they hadn’t. And that meant Dona could use it like a back door, not only to Ivar’s mind, but to the Victor’s. I can destroy the Xerans’ god.
Do you really think it’ll be that easy, bitch? Ivar commed, guessing her intentions. He’ll destroy you. He’ll make you his puppet, just like he did me. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in the traitor’s mental voice.
He was probably right, much as it galled her to admit it.
It didn’t matter. She couldn’t let the Victor kill Dyami, even if it meant making herself vulnerable to cyber attack.
Ignoring her shrieking instincts, Dona threw open every com frequency she had. “Alerio!”
Alerio circled the Victor through virtual space, trying to find a way through the giant’s firewall. His own Warlord body had begun to overheat, despite his comp’s protective systems. He watched his body stagger, then regain its balance with a jerk. If he didn’t find a way past the Victor’s firewall in the next . . .
“Alerio!” Dona’s desperate scream cut through his preoccupation. “Here! Come this way!” He felt her drop her own firewall.
Ivar, Alerio realized, absorbing the blast of information she sent him. Ivar is the Victor’s weakness.
Alerio shot through the gate Dona held open for him, slicing through her mind and into Ivar’s. The traitor howled and tried to launch his own cyber attack, but Dona blocked it. Ignoring him, Alerio headed for the tangled connections Dona pointed out between Ivar and the Victor. Connections that seemed to be breaking one by one. The Victor must have detected their invasion of his puppet’s mind. Unfortunately for the Victor, he was having trouble breaking all the links.
When Alerio reached the thick glowing cable, only one strand remained intact—but one was all he needed.
Sinking virtual fingers into that last strand, he fired Nick’s virus into it. The strand turned bright green as it carried its payload into the Victor. . . .
The knee of Alerio’s broken leg hit the sand, triggering a blinding flash of pain . . . Wait, I’m back in my body? But that means . . .
Terror spiked through him.
He jerked his head up. Face contorted in madness and rage, the Victor towered over him, one huge fist drawn back for a blow that would doubtless shatter his skull.
Then the giant just . . . froze. Utterly immobilized.
As Alerio watched, a wave of black rolled outward from the giant’s star-flecked eyes. Faster and faster, the rot surged over the golden skin, until it reached the feet planted wide on the sand.
Is he about to turn into that oil he became when he fought Nick?
But no. Looking closer, he realized the substance shone in the light of the setting sun with a dull crystalline gleam, something like quartz.
No, his neurocomp whispered, it’s much more fragile than quartz.
He froze, scarcely daring to hope. Biocrystal became fragile when it died. He’d just never seen it outside a cyborg’s body afterward . . .
A nerve-wracking hesitation, as if his comp was running a series of scans. Yes, it’s dead.
Maybe. Or maybe not.
It took Alerio three tries to struggle to his feet. His riaat-fueled strength was almost gone. Ignoring the pain of his broken ankle, Alerio braced himself and slammed his fist into one of the giant’s black crystal thighs.
It shattered, exploding into massive chunks that pelted down around him, bouncing off his shoulders, hitting the sand around his armored boots. Deprived of the leg’s support, the giant toppled and hit the ground. Its own weight shattered it, the dead crystal breaking into chunks.
But that wasn’t good enough.
Grimly determined, Alerio started stomping the chunks, breaking them into rocks, then pebbles, walking back and forth as he relentlessly crushed every piece of biocrystal into sand, despite the pain of his broken leg.
As he worked, the wind swept up the fine black particles and spun them into obsidian dust devils, then carried them away.