He went past the stall, to the end of the street where he saw the large modbox parked. Walking over to it, he climbed onto the frame to look inside.

  “Can I help you?”

  Marcus looked back over his shoulder. A woman stood a few feet away, pointing a shotgun at him. “That doesn’t belong to you,” she said.

  “I know,” Marcus replied. He jumped to the ground, facing the attendant. “I’m looking for the owner.”

  “He isn’t here.”

  “I know that too. Were you here when this modbox arrived?”

  “Yup. I’ve been here all day.”

  “How many people were in the vehicle?”

  “What? I don’t know who you are, mister, but I’m sure the folks you’re looking for wouldn’t want me to snitch on them.”

  “Folks?” Marcus said. “As in more than one?”

  The woman winced at her mistake. “I didn’t say how many.”

  Grab her by the head with your left hand.

  Marcus took a step toward the attendant. She held the gun up, putting her finger on the trigger.

  “D...don’t you come any closer. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “And I don’t want to hurt you,” Marcus replied. “I just want information about the people who arrived in this vehicle.”

  Grab her.

  No… Marcus wanted to scream at Iagorth. Not every interaction had to end in violence. Even so, he took another step toward her.

  The shotgun began shaking in her hands. “I don’t want to use this,” she said.

  Marcus lunged forward, grabbing the barrel and yanking it from her grip before she could squeeze the trigger. He brought his left hand up, the end of it spreading out into tentacles. One of them covered the woman’s mouth when she tried to scream. One went into each ear and each nostril.

  Images immediately began flashing through Marcus’ head. He saw the modbox pull into the lot, and each of the people in the car. He recognized the Custodian pilot and the Operator among them. And…Fairy? What was she doing here? How had she wound up with Sheriff Duke?

  “Damn it,” he cursed. Could Iagorth sense his feelings for the young scavenger? He pulled the hand back, the attendant collapsing, lifeless in front of him.

  This one is worthless. The one you call Fairy can be yours when Sheriff Duke and the others are dead. We know he’s here.

  “We don’t know where.”

  This settlement is pathetic. We will find him.

  Marcus left the parking area, returning to the market. His eyes narrowed when he spotted Thomas and the other young man from Duke’s group standing next to the sausage spit, accepting one of the sausages from the young girl.

  “That was easy,” he said, putting his hands near his blasters as he walked toward the trio.

  Thomas turned his head, noticing the approach. He flinched in surprise when he recognized who was coming. “Marcus?” His surprise spread into a smile. “Wow. I didn’t expect to run into you here.” His smile suddenly disappeared as his eyes met Marcus’. “Are you okay?”

  Marcus didn’t slow, instead throwing a hard jab into Thomas’ gut, doubling him over and knocking the hotdog from his hand. He grabbed the back of the Custodian’s head with his left hand, the fingers spreading into tentacles that entered his orifices just like they had with the parking attendant.

  “Get off him!” Duke’s other accomplice shouted, throwing a punch into Marcus’ side. He barely felt it as an image of Hayden sleeping in a chair filled his mind’s eye. He watched him get up and leave the room with the pilot, dressed in Custodian blacks.

  Marcus released his hand from Thomas’ head, leaving the Custodian dead before he hit the ground. He pulled his blaster, pointing it at the other man. “Where is Sheriff Duke?”

  “Eat shit!” the girl serving the sausages cried, kicking the hot cooking spit into Marcus’ leg, burning him.

  Kill her.

  Marcus hesitated. She was so young.

  I said kill her.

  Pain washed through Marcus’ head and his finger tightened on the trigger. But he held his fire as the older man suddenly scooped up the girl, running away with her.

  Pathetic.

  Iagorth released his grip on Marcus. Duke’s other helper had taken off while he was distracted. Thomas was dead. There was no sign of Fairy. She had been in the room with Sheriff Duke. But he was no longer in the room. He was out here somewhere. But where?

  A commotion a few moments later—a group of people shouting somewhere up the street—drew his attention. Could it hold some answers as to where the Sheriff might be? He didn’t think Duke would openly draw attention to himself.

  But sometimes the Sheriff, by just being himself, couldn’t help but create a scene.

  He decided to go see for himself what the fuss was all about.

  36

  Hayden

  Vazquez guided Hayden over to the corner where Rogers sat, his back to the wall, the two prostitutes sitting on either side, leaning in toward him. Their positioning and tight clothing left their breasts nearly hanging out of their tops, and the smell of their perfume made Hayden sick to his stomach even before he and Maya reached the table.

  Rogers was too busy drinking, laughing and telling glory stories to notice them until Vazquez pulled her combat knife from its calf sheath and stabbed it into the wood table in front of him. The Custodian finally shut up and looked past the girls.

  His face paled immediately, his smile vanishing just as fast. “Maya?” he said, throat moving as he swallowed apparent fear.

  “Jake,” she hissed back.

  “I…I didn’t know you were in town. Pattie told me you were off-site. Down at the Southern Reach.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m back.” She leaned over the table, turning her head toward the prostitute on the left. “If you value your health, you’ll get up and get out, right now.” She turned her head the other way. “You too, darlin’.” The prostitutes hesitated until Vazquez pulled the knife from the table, using it to gesture at them. “Now!”

  Then they stood up and hurried from the saloon.

  “Shit, Maya,” Rogers said. “What the hell? I already paid for those two.”

  “Not my problem,” Vazquez replied, taking the seat on Rogers’ right. Hayden took the one on the left.

  “Who the hell are you?” Rogers asked him. “A grepping normie?” He looked back at Vazquez. “You brought a normie in here?”

  “This normie can kick your ass six ways to Sunday, Jake.”

  Rogers laughed. “Yeah, right. I bet he can.” He glanced dismissively back at Hayden, just for a moment. The normie wasn’t worth his attention. “Seriously, what the hell do you want?”

  “Hookers, Jake?” Vazquez said. “What would your wife on Proxima think?”

  “Oh, come on. You know me. I didn’t hire them to take them to bed. We were just horsing around. A couple of girls pretending to care about what I have to say, because none of my fellow pilots or Custodians do.” He raised his voice at the end, drawing looks from a few of the other customers.

  “Today’s your lucky day then, Captain,” Vazquez said. “I want to hear what you have to say.”

  He seemed surprised. “You do?”

  “Yup. I want to know why I got the east-west cargo runs while you’ve been gone for the last four weeks. Where the hell have you been?”

  Rogers laughed. “You know I can’t tell you that, babe.”

  “Call me babe again, and I’ll make sure you can’t operate either one of your flight sticks.”

  He laughed harder with embarrassment. “I didn’t draw up the orders. They came direct from the Colonel.” He looked at Hayden. “Who are you again?”

  “Specialist Thomas,” Hayden replied.

  “What’s your specialty?”

  “Breaking things. Bones, mostly.”

  Vazquez glared at Hayden but didn’t counter him. It wasn’t the most benign response, but Hayden could tell Rogers wouldn’t take him seriously otherwise.

  “You’re a tough guy, then?” Rogers asked.

  “I already said he was,” Vazquez replied as Hayden leaned back in his seat. “Come on, Jake. Why did the Colonel pick you instead of me?”

  Rogers’ demeanor shifted, his expression becoming more serious. “Honestly? Because you already know too much about too many things.” He laughed again. “I don’t know shit about shit, unless we’re talking pre-war Earth culture. Did you know the Earthers had a Captain Rogers? They called him Captain America. How stupid is that?”

  “Not as stupid as you,” Vazquez said. “You’re saying he chose you because I know all of the routes? That means it’s a new route.”

  “You know I can’t talk about that. We’d both be in a shitload of trouble.”

  “That’s never stopped you from flapping your lips before. You know I won’t tell anyone else.”

  “And what about Bonebreaker here? How do I know he has clearance?”

  “I won’t tell anyone else either,” Hayden said. “To be honest, I don’t care where you’ve been.”

  “At least someone at this table has some sense.” Rogers looked at Vazquez. “Why do you need to know so bad? Can’t stand getting left out?”

  “When it comes to our flight patterns, no. If we’re expanding again, I’d like to know about it.”

  Rogers shrugged. “Sorry. Can’t help you.”

  “You could help me, if you wanted to,” Vazquez pushed.

  “Okay. I don’t want to. I’ve got no reason to give you what you want, especially after you scared off my girls.”

  “How about because it’s me asking?”

  Rogers shook his head. “You know, I would have considered that request a month ago. But then you come in here, you toss my whores, you sit down in a clone bar with a normie, and you give me shit. I know that’s your general personality, but it’s not flying with me. Get it? Flying? You’re a pilot.”

  Vazquez growled in exasperation.

  Hayden growled too. “You call me a normie like it’s a bad thing one more time and—”

  “And what?” Rogers said loudly. “What the hell are you going to do about it?”

  Vazquez looked at Hayden like she wanted to strangle him at the same time all of the activity in the saloon came to a sudden stop. He understood her frustration, but it was clear to him Rogers had intel they could use, and her approach to getting it from him wasn’t working.

  The clones in the bar turned to the table, eyes burning into Hayden. He leaned forward slowly, maintaining his cool outer demeanor as he leaned toward Rogers. “I’ll tell you what, Jake. I ride that bull out there until it stops, and you give the lady what she wants. I fall off, I’ll give you ten UWT tokens and two free shots right here.” He put his index finger to his jaw.

  “Thomas,” Vazquez warned, trying to talk him down.

  Hayden put up his hand. “I’ve got this, Maya. I watched that bull toss two of you lab rats before I came in here. You think you’re better than me? Let’s see for ourselves.”

  Rogers’ eyes narrowed at the slur, hands balling into fists on the table. “I should beat your head in right here.” He motioned to the other clones. “You think you could get out of here alive?”

  “Yeah, I do. But there’s no need for that much violence. Unless you’re afraid a normie can do what you can’t?”

  “Screw you, asshole,” Rogers said. “You’re on.” He pushed back his chair as he stood, slamming his fists on the table. “After the bull breaks your back, I’m going to break your smug face.”

  Hayden stood up, making eye contact with Vazquez, who only seemed slightly concerned now that she understood his ploy. “All right. Let’s do this.”

  They left the table, moving through the other Custodian clones back outside. There was already someone on the bull so they waited beside it, the entire group of patrons leaving the bar to watch. The bull started moving, needing only a few seconds to toss the rider—another militant in a black uniform.

  “You’re up, Thomas,” Rogers said, smirking as Hayden expertly grabbed the side of the machine and slid onto the saddle. The other bystanders began making bets with one another. Not whether or not he would complete the circuit, but how many seconds he would last before being thrown.

  None of them believed he could hold on when so many of them had failed.

  “Here we go,” Rogers said, hitting a button on the side of the machine to start it up.

  Hayden gripped the saddle horn in his left hand, flexing his legs against the sides of the machine.

  It began to move.

  37

  Marcus

  Marcus reached the corner of the street and turned his head in the direction of the shouting. His eyes landed on the backs of nearly a dozen men and women in black uniforms, who in turn were whooping and hollering at the spectacle in front of them.

  Someone was riding the mechanical bull, his right hand holding tight to the saddle horn, his left high in the air, helping him maintain balance as the machine bucked, kicked and turned. From the length of the time the shouting had been going on, the rider had been on board the machine for nearly thirty seconds now, a feat that obviously impressed the crowd. It impressed Marcus as well. From the looks of the ride, it required a strong measure of strength and balance as well as the fortitude to not lose focus, much less get dizzy enough to fall off.

  He couldn’t tell who the rider was. The movement and speed combined with the constant change of directions left the man with his back to Marcus for the first few seconds he observed the spectacle. Judging by the way the man handled the chaos, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was Sheriff Duke.

  Marcus continued walking toward the scene, suddenly aware of a different kind of shouting behind him. The young girl and her father had returned to their stall and were screaming for someone to come and help them with Thomas. The Custodians gathered around the bull didn’t hear them over their own shouting. But somehow, the rider did hear them. His head flicked to the right, allowing Marcus to finally see his face.

  Duke!

  Iagorth hissed the word in Marcus’ mind at the same time Marcus recognized the Sheriff. A moment later, Sheriff Duke’s eyes stopped searching for the source of the screams in the distance as his eyes slid across Marcus and then zeroed in on him. Marcus reacted without thinking, hands grabbing the blasters and pulling them from their holsters, firing them wildly akimbo as the bull bucked one last time, unseating Duke.

  It didn’t take him long to realize the Sheriff hadn’t fallen at all. He’d let go, the momentum of the ride’s last jerk throwing him up and over the front of it where the Custodians peeled apart as he came down amidst them, landing squarely on his feet. It was the last reaction any of them made before the first of the plasma blasts zipped overhead, sizzling past them, missing the Sheriff entirely.

  The militants’ excited shouts turned to screams of warning. They spread apart, turning on Marcus. A few reached for their sidearms. Duke stayed low, producing a gun as well, one Marcus knew all too well.

  “Custodians!” he shouted, hoping to get their attention before they started firing on him. “That’s Sheriff Duke. Don’t let him get away!”

  The Sheriff broke perpendicular to Marcus’ pursuit, firing at him the moment he cleared the Custodians. Marcus ducked beneath the rounds as he rolled along the pavement and bounded up, returning fire. His plasma bolts came within centimeters of hitting the Sheriff as he ran for the alley adjacent to the bar.

  The gathering of Custodians nearest Marcus had stopped moving, uncertain what to do next. Further back, a few of them were tussling with one another, though Marcus had no idea why. He didn’t care either.

  The Sheriff was getting away.

  “You!” he shouted to the Custodians. “With me!” He broke for the alley. Hearing running footsteps behind him, he glanced over his shoulder as he reached the corner, noticing two armed militants were right behind him, three more trailing them. The fighting among the main group had expanded unexpectedly. Marcus recognized the Osprey pilot standing at the center of the melee. She had produced a gun from somewhere and used it to keep the Custodians back.

  He lost sight of her as he turned down the alley. Sheriff Duke had already vanished from view, but Marcus could hear his footsteps on the next street over, heading north.

  He reached the corner of the alley and turned, firing a pair of rounds at Duke just before the man turned into another alley. Marcus signalled three Custodians to cross over to the next backstreet to intercept Duke from the front while he and the other two continued down the street after him

  He didn’t understand how the Sheriff was outrunning him. He thought Iagorth had made him faster.

  There are limits to what this primitive body can do without breaking. I can make you Sheriff Duke’s physical equal, no more.

  “If you need to break me, then break me. I don’t want him to get away.”

  Iagorth’s laughter rumbled in Marcus’ head.

  Very well.

  Marcus felt the jolt of energy rush through his body, sending his heart into triple time. He surged ahead of the Custodians with him, racing across the street and down the alley Duke had disappeared into. He reached the next street over, slowing to scan the potential directions the Sheriff might have gone. He looked straight ahead and then to the right, his head whipping back left when he heard the soft thumps of the Axon gun firing. Duke stood at the next corner over, and had just finished dispatching the Custodians he sent up the side street.

  “Duke!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to get the Sheriff’s attention.

  Duke spun around, eyes narrowing as Marcus opened fire again, sprinting toward him at the same time. The Sheriff avoided the blasts by throwing himself through a glass doorway into the building and vanishing once more.

  Not for long. Marcus charged after him, legs burning as his feet pounded the pavement, allowing him to cross the distance in no time. He came to a quick stop in front of the shattered glass, shooting blindly into the darkness inside just in case the Sheriff had waited to ambush him. He hadn’t. The small lobby was clear. To his right, an elevator and stairwell offered two methods to ascend the floors above.