A round tore through her left wing, the machine fluttering, struggling to keep air between them and the hard ground. They were still a klick out, losing altitude. She keyed the link. “Sam?” She fed a damage report to the handler. “We’re coming in now or not at all.”

  “Give me a sec.”

  “You’ve got,” Delilah checked her overlay, “fifteen.”

  “Goddamnit.” The link hissed and coiled, a serpent wanting to strike. Sam’s job was to open the louvers of an aircon tower atop HumanE. The building was huge, four intakes servicing hundreds of floors. Louvers flexed with need. They were wide enough for a person at full width. Easy enough to climb through. Difficult to fly through with an Osprey, but not impossible.

  What was impossible was flying through with a damaged wing. Delilah had limited control of her descent, speed, and angle. Today might be the day she joined Samson. Had she done enough to earn a rest?

  “You’re nervous. I can see it in your heart.” Zach’s link comm was unexpected, his voice warm.

  “I’m fine,” Delilah lied. “I’ve got the easy job. You’re the idiot who signed up for the hard work.”

  “I don’t think ‘signing up’ is the right term. The link suggests ‘press gang.’”

  Delilah laughed. “That’s it.”

  “Don’t worry. You get us close. On my honor, I’ll hold us safe.” Zach’s eyes found hers. Earnest. Trusting. She wondered if she’d ever had eyes like that.

  On my honor. “Okay, Zach. I’ll get us close.”

  Sam cleared her throat. “Very touching, but there’s a small wrinkle. I’ve got the louvers working, but they’re oscillating.” Meaning, no confirmed opening. A randomized period of time when they could get in.

  Delilah’s overlay reported 300M IMPACT IMMINENT. HumanE’s tower loomed like a mountain peak. Lights on the top guided them in. Cannons tracked their progress. You wanted me to ring the bell, but this is lunacy. Delilah activated the stealth fabric covering them both. The Osprey’s burning wing was still a target, but there wasn’t any fixing that. Guns hammered the air, their roar loud and sudden. Delilah turned on overtime, the pale night becoming ghostly.

  Ahead, the louvers yawned. The metal flowers welcomed them in, impossibly slow in the treacle of overtime.

  The Osprey struggled. A round found its wing, tearing it free. They spun, but only for a moment. Delilah saw Zach’s clenched fist, the Osprey holding still as if in the eye of the tornado. A hundred meters became fifty. Fifty became ten. So close. At their velocity, the edges of the louvers were sharp enough to slice them apart.

  Delilah pulled Zach close, her bionics holding him fast. They slipped between the louvers, the remaining wing tearing from her Osprey. She curled around Zach, jouncing on the inside of the aircon chute. It felt like her teeth rattled free. She thought, be a sphere. Bounce like a ball. You have the most precious cargo.

  They came to rest, the chute dark, air howling in the throat of the beast. Delilah stood, helping Zach up. Her optics switched to IR, showing his grin below eyes that glinted like a devil’s. “You good?”

  “I’m better than good. We’re bringing Laia home.” Zach reached a clawed hand at the chute’s wall, tearing metal and concrete. He dove inside.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sadie was crazy. Mike knew it, but he hadn’t figured on just how crazy.

  Delilah told Mike she’d got into HumanE through the subway. Metatech would never have left a burrow like that in the ass of their empire, and he wondered what made Human Energetics think they could get away with it. Mind control. That’s what makes ‘em think it. Any fool that comes in here gets strapped to a chair for an ‘upgrade.’

  The subway was dark, dank, and not at all the kind of place Mike would host a party of any kind. No vagrants, just some old blankets and empty ration bar wrappers. His overlay led the way, Delilah’s map showing how she’d got in. Hell, it even showed where Delilah stepped, ghostly footprints leading the way. He passed through the broken rock where she’d blown the wall. Inside, the tunnel remained empty. The gate at the end had been repaired, hasty welds holding it in place.

  Mike hefted his backpack. Inside, he had a bunch of ammo and a few surprises. He removed the first surprise, dark bricks marked with DANGER EXPLOSIVE. Mike pressed them to the gate, making sure the firing studs linked, pleasing green showing on their LEDs.

  He paced back down the tunnel, then detonated them.

  Rock and dust showered into the subway, the ground shaking. A crack ran up the wall and across the ceiling. Mike cast a cautious eye at it. Wouldn’t do to be walled in down here. Precious few people knew where he was, and they were all unreliable lunatics.

  A cloud of ash greeted Mike as he jogged back down the tunnel. Internal rebreathers stopped him sucking dust. Inside, black Metatech armor graying with particulate, he pulled a submachine gun from the backpack. Mike loved his sidearm, but an SMG was better for close work with lots of hostiles. If everything went according to plan, he’d have a whole cadre of hostiles. The weapon was kinetic, and he’d loaded it with armor piercing rounds.

  The only hostile he really wanted to meet was Ruby Page, but Sadie had given him what he referred to as The Eye, shaking her head. Sadie said you want her bad, huh and he’d nodded like one of those damn drinking birds, and she’d said that’s why you can’t have her. He’d glared, so she’d added a yet, but sounded like yet was a long time away.

  Maybe the mission will go south. Maybe yet becomes today. Mike shouldn’t hope for that. He was the getaway car. Getaway cars didn’t fight.

  Mike looked up through smoke and grit, the machine room inside a smoking ruin. It’s possible he’d used too much explosive, but whatever. He gauged the distance, then jumped, bionics making the motion smooth and effortless. Mike’s repaired arm wasn’t working at a hundred. It hadn’t been right since Amsterdam and the recent damage made it worse but couldn’t be helped. Carter’s in here.

  If there was one thing Mike learned from Floyd as the ex-Apsel enforcer stepped onto another world with a girl he barely knew, it’s you didn’t let people face the darkness alone. He thought about Zach with Dee and felt no nervousness. The kid couldn’t be in better hands. The past was done, and full of pain between them, but none of that tension was about her ability to do what had to be done.

  Mike eased out into a corridor, took in the two gray-armored guards running toward him, and shot them with the SMG. The weapon rattled in his hand as Mike’s bionics compensated for the recoil. He traced bullets across their bodies, punching right through their Sesame Street-issued body armor, dropping both like discarded sock puppets.

  He paused, listening. An alarm wailed in the distance. Nothing here though, which was good because alarms weren’t going to help his inner calm. Mike thought about using Delilah’s elevator trick to get up top but discarded the idea. No way they’d fall for the same trick twice.

  I hate stairs. Mike hit the stairwell at a run, taking the steps four at a time, boots sliding as he rounded the corners. Above, he heard movement. Below, shouts. He grinned. Maybe a getaway car could get in a few fights. All in the name of market research. They had precious little data on Human Energetics tech.

  Time for a different weapon. He pulled a mine from his bag, eyeballing a throw. Risking a quick glance up, Mike tossed the mine, watching as it arced to limpet to the stairs above.

  Switching to thermal, Mike waited. He caught blooms of heat as guards made their way to him from above. He waited, audio mapping movement on the overlay. Two made their cautious way to the steps right below the mine. He pointed the SMG, hard link guiding the weapon. A single shot and the mine exploded, flensing concrete and metal filling the air. One guard tumbled over the railing, falling past Mike to be lost below.

  Which meant the other was still there.

  He cleared the next landing at a run, pausing at the scene of destruction. The wall was cracked and charred, the concrete dimpled as if a giant fist had hit it. The bannister had torn, rails above and below at crazy angles. The guard’s body was here. Mike gave him a scan, thermal checking below the surface.

  What the hell? Mike keyed the comm. “Sam?”

  “Kinda busy with your ex.” Her voice packed meaning into those five words.

  “I need a second opinion.” Mike sent the scan data across the link. “It’s one of the HumanE assholes, I mean, guards.”

  “That can’t be right.” She said it like she was trying to convince herself. As if she could change reality through volume and confidence. “That’s a civilian. Link tech from Tencent-Samsung. A replacement optic and a ticker, but judging by his mass, the second was for burger-related damage, not performance reasons.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Mike killed the link. Why were HumanE using civilians as guards?

  Mind control. These people didn’t sign up to be here, and you’ve already killed four of them. He eyed his SMG. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered, then tossed the weapon into the stairwell. It clattered against a lower railing as it fell. He heard a shout from below, but no answering fire.

  There’d been a time he’d have gone in, guns blazing. Back then, he’d have laughed at the new Mike. But all he wanted to do was get out of here.

  Going in soft and quiet was never how Mike liked to roll. That was more Delilah’s speed. She had the mods, for God’s sake. Mike’s bionics all said loud, baby, and then make it louder.

  He’d pried open an air conditioning grate, fingers crumpling the metal like tissue. Tossing it aside, he clambered inside then started climbing. In one of the building’s main aircon shafts, he made good progress. Not as good as using the stairs, but there weren’t any people in here he’d have to kill.

  Somewhere above floor thirty-five, his link hissed. “Hello, Mike.” A woman’s voice, rough in a way that made him want to know her better.

  Mike paused, hand gripping a piece of metal. “Who’s this?”

  “It’s Carter. What’s in the bag?”

  “A surprise.” Mike continued to climb, unconcerned she’d made contact. Lace said Carter could do impossible things like jacking secure link comms. The knapsack swung from his shoulders, lending an added degree of difficulty to his journey.

  “I know where you are. I know your mods and how to hack your link. I know—” She broke off. “What have you done?”

  “I removed my link upgrade system.” Mike grinned despite the wind around him, howling and cold. “It’s harder than you think. It’s like the factory wants to be able to push an update any fucking time.”

  “And now you’re coming for me.”

  “Yep.” Mike’s hand slipped on a spot of condensation and he flailed, hanging from one arm. The shaft’s air shrieked with glee, wanting him to fall. He dug a toe into the wall, halting his crazy swing. “You okay up there?”

  “I’m going to kill you.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that.” Mike eyed the shaft. No time to waste. Stop dicking about, Takahashi. He crouched on a cross-beam, jumping. Mike landed with a clang against the metal wall. “Would you kill Mason?”

  An almost imperceptible pause. “You’re not Mason.”

  “I’m Mason’s friend.”

  “Spoken like a true assassin.” She sniffed. “It doesn’t matter. They’ve told me to kill you, and you’ll die. I shook off an entire syndicate, once.”

  “About that.” Mike jumped up another couple flights. “It took just one man to take you down. Isn’t that right?”

  “You’re not Zane Aster, either.”

  “You were taken down by Aster? That guy’s barely competent enough to tie his shoelaces.” Mike jumped again, his overlay proclaiming LEVEL FORTY-FOUR. The motherlode. He crept along a side passage, pausing every so often to listen. “You still with me?”

  “Aster was good enough to kill Mason.”

  “Mason’s not dead.”

  “You’re lying. I can tell when people lie, Mike. People always lie. It’s how you were made.”

  “Mason’s not dead,” he repeated. “We’re getting him back. And we need your help.”

  “Be hard for me to help a dead man.” She sighed, like everything was hard but Mike being incompetent was the hardest. “You’re going the wrong way.”

  “I’m not.” Mike switched to thermal as he arrived at a grate. The corridor outside was dark. He kicked the grate open with a clang, dropping to the floor. The time for subtlety was long gone. It was time for speed. And a little noise.

  A turret eased from the ceiling not far away. Mike let the overtime puddle around him, hauling out his sidearm. He squeezed the trigger, plasma chewing the turret to slag. “You can’t kill me.”

  “There’s more than one turret.”

  He tsk’d. “They said you were smart.” Mike eyed the wall. Overlay said through enough drywall and office space on this floor was a massive room. Sat feeds couldn’t see inside. Another floor higher up held a similarly-sized room. One would hold Carter.

  Mike charged the wall, drywall flaking as he barged through. His bionics whined as he loaded them for speed, keeping his head tucked low. Thing about turrets? People put them in corridors and access ways. No one put them in the dirty spaces between walls. Humans weren’t wired to think like that.

  Continuing his run, Mike hefted an EMP grenade. Ahead was a cube farm. He broke through, tossing the grenade. The pulse hit, stopping the turrets crawling from the roof. Mike’s overlay roared static, optics rolling, and his damaged arm jerked. His pain suppressors misfired, setting his nerves alight for a second. He kept on. Ahead was a prize worth a little pain.

  Another drywall later and he made the hard concrete of Carter’s bunker. Or, he hoped it was. Soon there’d be enough guards here to punch Mike Takahashi’s clock for good. He hauled charges from his bag, pressing them to the wall.

  “Mike, stop.” Carter sounded frantic. “If you blow the wall, you’ll kill me.”

  Mike looked at a cam watching from a corner. He winked. “You’ve been dead before.” He ducked aside, triggered the charges. The wall blew apart with a roar. Mike jumped inside. Four gray-armored guards waited, rifles coming to bear. He threw his sidearm at one, clocking him in the forehead. Mike slid across the floor, shoring up next to a chair. He flipped it toward the second guard, knocking him over. A console above Mike served as an improvised frisbee. He spun it, knocking the third guard over.

  The last guard shot Mike twelve times as he lunged for her. He reached her position, batted her rifle aside, and hit her in the head. She dropped like a bad joke.

  Mike’s overlay cascaded with alarms. Twelve shots were a lot to take. Four more than his armor wanted. He dripped red as he looked at the massive crystal framework in the middle of the room. “Hello, Carter.” He coughed, wet and ragged.

  “You’re done for.”

  “Might be.” Mike limped to a table piled with electronics. He unspooled cable from the console. Bonafont logged in here, his name still on the screen. Mike pulled one last trick from the bag. A small box, like two packs of cigarettes taped together.

  “You can’t put me in there. I’ll die for sure.” She sounded like she was reading stereo instructions to an imbecile.

  Mike looked at a cam, its red eye watching him. “You’re thinking about this all wrong.”

  “You want to kill me?”

  “Nope. We think you’re so important, we’re willing to die to set you free.” He rammed the cable home, initiating the download. Carter’s light dimmed, siphoned into Mike’s transport case.

  He hefted the small box. Mike held the heart and soul of a goddess in his hand. The door shook in its frame, something massive trying to hammer its way inside. He cast a glance over his shoulder, initiating link comms. “Anytime.”

  “I need a second,” said Sadie.

  “I don’t have a second.” The door flew off its hinges, slamming to the floor. A total conversation shouldered its way inside. It was armored but looked like street tech not syndicate hardware. Rougher than Harry, a little less deadly, but maybe more than enough for Mike what with his damaged arm and bullet holes.

  He looked at the box, eyed his pistol, then glanced at the massive total conversion. Ah. This is how I die.

  Chapter Thirteen

  When Sadie broke down her plan for the team, she’d expected to be run out of Dodge. If not run, then at least laughed out. What she got was silence from Harry, no doubt talking to Lace. Pensive moodiness from Zach, which was expected because he was both a teenager and being asked to do the impossible. Sam shrugged. Dee looked away and said fuck it let’s do this.

  There was a small wrinkle in the plan. A rogue asset none of them seemed capable of handling: Ruby Page.

  Sadie had been dealing with the Pages of the world since she’d opened her eyes and bawled at the bright light. Someone always thought they could push you around. Sadie didn’t know what the Metatech alumni association parties were like, but she imagined there’d be Ruby Page on one side looking like a smug asshole, and everyone else on the other side cleaning weapons.

  Page demanded preparation. Which was why, as the team prepared to breach the world’s wealthiest syndicate, Sadie was in downtown Seattle walking into a pit of vipers owned by Slim Tor.

  Slim Tor supplied Sadie when she needed a little pick me up. He, and his gender was a guess because she’d never met Slim let alone seen him, did all business through a tiny hole in the wall. Or, hole in the floor, because his establishment was down broken concrete steps, the smell of piss and shit wafting to the street above.

  While the rest of the team dick-measured and tried to avoid talking about who had sex with who and why that even mattered, Sadie clumped down steps in oldtown, looking for trouble. Trouble in pill form, and hopefully, rifle form.

  She hammered her fist against the old iron door of Slim’s establishment. A peep-hole slid back, showing a rectangular slice of surly face. Eyes squinted, although the orbs themselves were replaced by old-style military optics, black lenses that caught the light and held it close. A scar ran from top to bottom of what face was visible. Don’t forget the sneer. She always sneers. “Freeman, ain’t seen you in a while.”