“Ain’t been here in a while.” Sadie crossed her arms. “Get your hand off it, and open the door.”

  “Okay, okay.” The peep-hole clanked shut, the door groaning open. It revealed a hulking woman you might call an orc, but never to her face. She’d been on growth hormone for longer than she’d been bolting metal to her body. Half industrial loader, half pro wrestler, August Amy stood at this door since Sadie came here the first time.

  Behind her, Quiet John polished a sidearm from his position behind a low table. The chair underneath him creaked, because he was an enormous man mountain. Blubber, sure, but underneath he carried enough mods to powerlift Lady Liberty herself if she hadn’t broken apart ten years back. Sadie had seen Quiet John move with purpose only once in her life, and he’d been faster than bottled lightning. She wasn’t sure if Quiet John was at syndicate levels of tech, but she suspected he just might be.

  The room was small and dirty. Meetings happened here. It wasn’t a warehouse.

  She raised an eyebrow. “John.” He offered her a smile but said nothing. Quiet was a title earned for a reason. Sadie walked inside, August Amy following her with those coal-black eyes. Beside John, bolted to the wall, well worn by time and the passing of thousands of needy hands, was a wide touch panel display. An intercom sat next to it. It was old, good tech. Sadie was sure a physical wire led from here to somewhere Slim Tor watched nearby. Unhackable. Untraceable, unless you tore the wall apart, and by then he’d be long gone. And if you started that brand of shit, Quiet John and August Amy would tear you apart.

  A cam above the display centered on her. Sadie knew there were others she couldn’t see. It was likely Slim Tor watched her through Amy and John’s eyes as well. A man in his trade could never be too careful. What really bugged Sadie was the things she couldn’t see or imagine. A man like Slim Tor didn’t stay in business this long with the yakuza crunching around outside, breaking apart smaller operators like soggy Special K.

  The speaker crackled. “Sadie Freeman. Haven’t seen you in here in a while.”

  “And I’ve never seen you.” She offered her sidearm to August Amy, holding it by the barrel. It was important to never give the wrong impression. Not here. She didn’t want to be made an example of. Wasn’t the time or the place.

  August Amy took the offered weapon, giving her a once-over. “That Metatech armor?”

  Sadie nodded. “Yep. Signed on with them for a little while before they downsized. Didn’t need a rockstar.”

  “Everyone needs a rockstar.” Slim Tor’s voice crackled around the room like he wanted to be there for real. “I’ve heard you play. You make the angels weep.”

  “Hah. I doubt you’ve been outside.”

  “I’ve been outside.” The cam watched her. “What do you need, Sadie?”

  “I need things that can’t be seen. I need old shit and I need it fast. And I don’t even want to hear,” she held up a palm to the cam, “about how it’ll be expensive. I know it’ll be expensive. I came here because we don’t bullshit each other. I ask, you tell me a price, we both nod, and go our separate ways.”

  “Sounds fair.” The panel cleared, filling with a series of icons. Weapons. Drugs. Armor. Escorts and party favors. “What’ll it be?”

  Sadie walked past August Amy to stand before the screen and its watching eye. “Drugs and ammo.”

  “You going on a road trip?”

  “I’m hunting big game.”

  “You’re hunting syndicate game.” A hmm came from the speaker. “Important ol’ Slim Tor isn’t caught up in this, see?”

  “‘Ol’ Slim Tor’ is never caught up in it. I thought we weren’t going to talk about how expensive it was?”

  He laughed, the speaker crackling with mirth. “I’ve missed you, Sadie. So much, I’ll only mark up my prices by two hundred percent.”

  “You’re a prince among kings.” Sadie pulled a Treasurer from a pack, offering one to Quiet John. He took the offered cigarette, leaning forward for her light. She lit her own, ignoring August Amy. Amy didn’t smoke. “I need a high-powered tank-buster. And I need something to give me a little boost.”

  “A little boost like partying all night, or a little boost like running a marathon?”

  “I’m fighting a syndicate enforcer tonight.” Sadie blew smoke. “I don’t think it’s the kind of thing you survive.”

  “Bionics are the answer.”

  “I don’t put metal under my skin.” She shook her head. “Just natural solutions.”

  “You ever heard of Patch?”

  “No.”

  “It’s what you need. Endogenous opioid neuropeptides and peptide hormones—”

  “I’m a bartender and sometime rockstar.” Sadie frowned. “Maybe not even a rockstar. Just a girl with a six-string. Pretend I don’t know what all the fancy sales words mean.”

  “Endorphins. Got a dose of dextroamphetamine, epinephrine, and good ol’ testosterone for the winter months.”

  “Am I going to grow a beard?”

  “Not with a single dose. Hard to come down from, though. High on Jesus, twice as big, then lower than pond scum.” The screen rolled, cleared, and showed a price.

  Sadie winced. “You’re killing me here.”

  “No, I’m saving you.” The screen cleared, filling weapons icons. “We got a crate in recently. Literally fell off the back of a truck. Truck was a Metatech supply wagon—”

  “No.” Sadie held up her hand. “I’ve got access to Metatech’s stable. I can still shop at the company store, Slim. Metatech weapons have chips. Hard links. They’re traceable and trackable. I need something that can’t be seen.”

  “Ah.” She could imagine a smile wide as the dawn in Arizona. “I’ve got just the thing.”

  Even in the life of a busy corporate bee, you needed coffee. Sadie found a once-was mom-and-pop cafe across from Human Energetic’s plaza. She was surprised it was open, what with the rioting and looting, but this close to Human Energetics, there was little of either. Some half-hearted tire fires. A burned-out car. Nothing much else going on.

  Inside the coffee shop was no different. No one here except the young man behind the counter, the hologram HumanE logo shifting on his apron implying the syndicate owned this place too. All the surfaces were spotless, gleaming whites and steels. A well-stocked cabinet held food, and an impressive-looking coffee machine steamed behind the counter.

  Sadie held the rifle case in her left hand, deck in her right. Slim had thrown in a new set of armor. Sadie left the black plates of Metatech armor on the floor of Slim Tor’s, crossed sabers somehow accusatory as she tossed them aside. She’d donned the armor he’d thrown in for free. It was from a war no one gave a shit about anymore. Kevlar over ceramic laminate plates. No power source.

  She navigated around the empty tables and chairs, making for the counter. The young man eyed her case, deck, and armor all at once. He tried for a smile. “Help you?”

  Sadie nodded. “I think so. I’ll take a coffee. Make it a good one.”

  “Large, ma’am?”

  “Is there any other size?” She leaned against the counter. “Do not fucking call me ma’am.” Sadie sighed, dropping the deck on the counter and running a gloved hand through her hair. “Sorry. It’s going to be a long night.” She eyed the cabinet food. “People eat this stuff?”

  “Not really.” The coffee shop droid shrugged.

  “Good times.” She waited for her coffee, and when he slid what could only be called a bowl across to her, Sadie thought it large enough to do laps in. “Perfect. Why don’t you take a break?”

  His eyes roamed the room, coming to rest on her case. “I can’t leave the register.”

  She smiled, all wolf. “There won’t be one in ten minutes.”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Got you.” He tossed the apron to the counter, disappearing out the back. Sadie stared at the cam behind the back door, the damn thing looking right back at her. She saw another in the opposite corner. Sadie ignored them. She bussed her coffee to a table, tossing the case and deck beside it, before closing and locking the main door.

  Seated at the table, she opened the deck. It hummed, screen clearing, its tiny link connecting with her team. The rapid-fire chatter of overtime comm wasn’t something she could listen to. It sounded a lot like mosquitoes in the real, but the deck parsed it all as text, the screen tagging and bagging the chatter as it passed.

  She fished a small vial of Irish cream from her belt pouch, pouring all of it into the coffee. Then she opened the case, hauling out the massive sniper rifle she’d got from Slim Tor. She’d asked for a tank-buster and he’d offered her a big fifty. The bullets looked as long as her fingers and weighed like gold. DPUs, he’d said. Depleted uranium. That’s what you wanted when shooting tanks.

  A spare magazine joined the coffee and deck on the table, and finally, a small vial of Patch. It was a sickly yellow one-use hypo, good for jacking you right to the sky.

  The street shook, a gentle vibration setting the surface of her coffee rippling. Sadie took it as a good sign and sipped. Mike breached HumanE from below. He had the longest, hardest job.

  Sadie assembled the rifle, sliding the scope onto its rail last. The magazine slotted underneath with a happy click. Outside, a gunship roared from the tower, strafing the street. The deck showed Harry’s comms. Across the street, Ruby Page emerged from the subway, talking shit like all company people did. Sadie didn’t roll that way. You want someone dealt with, you do the job. You saved the gloating for later.

  The night sky above turned bright as cannons atop HumanE hammered the night sky. That’ll be Delilah and Zach. She hoped the kid would be okay. A piece of an Osprey’s wing crunched to the street near the base of Human Energetics, smoldering and smoking on the broken concrete. That’s not good. Getting Mike out will be tricky. Too late to worry about that now.

  Sadie eyed the comm as Mike signaled he had the package. She leaned toward the deck, pressing the small TALK button. “Harry, now.”

  Text scrolled. BUSY. She looked at the street, Harry’s massive chassis stomping around, Ruby Page riding atop like he was a rodeo bull. Harry big metal fists tried to grab the woman, but damn she was fast. Sadie thought, finally, she’d seen someone quicker than Quiet John. She grabbed the yellow hypo, pressing it against the skin between her armored sleeve and glove. It hissed, and the world turned wild.

  Sadie felt her heart thud. Not the urgency from a run, but the determination of a war drum, beating hard enough to shake the table. She reached for the rifle, her hands needing something to hold. Sadie clenched her teeth, unable to stop their chattering. She heard a keen coming from her lips, wanted to silence it, then thought fuckitnolet’sjustdothis, all speed and hard angles.

  The entire basis of Sadie’s plan was to look different to what syndicate pond-scum like Ruby considered a threat. A human normal stood no chance drawing down on one of the most augmented enforcers ever to walk God’s Eden if they saw you. Sadie didn’t have metal under her skin. Zero atomic batteries or Apsel reactors. No link nestled in the back of her skull. Just skin, flesh, bone, and a heart that wanted the world to be something other than it was.

  The battle outside set her cup to rattling, the ripples slower in the Patch, moving like waves on the ocean. She could hear them lap the rim of the cup. The rifle against her shoulder felt like it breathed with her, the metal solid and real. She looked down the scope, sighting outside. The scope was old, just glass. The rifle itself had no stabilizing tech inside. It relied on a sometime rocker chick, aiming at a woman astride her friend Harry.

  Don’t miss. You’ve got one shot.

  Missing would mean she’d draw Ruby’s attention, but the drug wanted that. She fought the feeling, even as something feral pulled Sadie’s lips from her teeth. She breathed out, then squeezed the trigger.

  The rifle bucked like a stallion. The window between Sadie and Ruby shattered, the glass tinkling like wind chimes. She felt her hair dragged forward by the force of the shot, billowing around her face. The coffee cup tumbled from the table, falling slower than it should, as if time’s watch needed winding. Is this what overtime is like? Sadie knew it couldn’t be. Still too slow, a human in the real, nothing but old military drugs in her veins.

  Ruby Page rocked back, flying from atop Harry. Sadie saw a glowing, yellow-white hole in her shoulder as the woman fell. Harry took the moment, grabbing Ruby and throwing her through a wall. He fired his railgun after her, the big weapon roaring rage.

  “Harry!” Sadie screamed. “NOW!”

  Harry swiveled the chassis. A micro-missile pod emerged from a hatch on his shoulder. A salvo of tiny rockets flew toward level forty-four of Human Energetics. They were in a rectangular spread, impacting the concrete bulwark of the building. Stone exploded, falling to the street.

  Sadie looked up. Through a break in the clouds, she thought she saw a figure atop HumanE. The lights on the tower flickered, the drug in her veins making it difficult to focus. She wanted to fight, not wait. The figure above might have been Delilah, cloaking broken. Too far away to be sure, but Sadie thought Dee didn’t have an Osprey.

  Exposed in HumanE’s hole stood Mike Takahashi. He held something to his chest while firing his sidearm into the building. Mike jumped, falling. Forty-four floors, straight down.

  He made five of those floors before Delilah hit, grappling him. A chute deployed, billowing behind them. They crunched to the street.

  Harry clanked forward, railgun pointed above. He fired, Sadie covering her ears at the weapon’s roar. The night flashed, over and over, as he shelled the room an evil man used to imprison their friend.

  The bottom of HumanE vomited guards. Harry strafed the area with an autocannon, the barrels glowing red as concrete cracked and splintered. Sadie ran from the coffee shop, deck and rifle left behind. Her body felt so light, so fast. Everything was so easy.

  An automated hauler careened around the corner. The truck’s cab was big enough for three friends, the big flat deck inviting and empty. Delilah and Mike made it to the vehicle at the same time Sadie did, the three of them clambering inside. Harry climbed on the deck, swiveling the chassis to provide cover for their escape.

  Zach was still inside, but that was a part of the plan. They had what they came for. Time to go.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mason walked the halls of an ancient pyramid lined with carpet and marble. He wondered if Gairovald ever set foot here. No one really knew how old the man was before Mason shortened his span with a blade’s cut, but it was Gairovald’s gate tech that allowed humans to cross the stars, setting up shop here.

  It probably was Old Man Gairovald. He had the kind of ego it took to build a pyramid like the Pharaohs on a backwater planet.

  Laia paced at his side. They’d got a few of the robots up and working. The machines patrolled the pyramid, which meant they walked a little easier. The Masters couldn’t have known how close to getting in they really were, but the throwbacks would never be able to fire up a broken gate. Still, there were weapons of godly power inside. A cache of Heaven.

  Mason held one such weapon, an old automatic rifle. The company of manufacture was one he’d never heard of, SMITH & WESSON in faded lettering on the stock. The Tenko-Senshin sat in its holster. He hadn’t found any ammunition bricks for it. Maybe the tech to peel flechettes from a brick of steel with a laser hadn’t been invented when they sent humans here to die.

  They washed up in a cafeteria. Mason found ration boxes well past any sensible use-by date, but the protein bars hadn’t made him sick. Yet. “We’ve got a problem.”

  Laia nodded, chewing a protein bar like it was wood. “They will come for us.”

  He shook his head. “They’re already here.” The link gave him access to the few operational cams studding the exterior of the pyramid. Seekers waited outside, their number growing as they arrived here. More than the robots could handle. More than Mason could handle, too.

  Laia nodded. “Then they will come for you through me.”

  “That’s the problem I was thinking of.” Mason chewed, the sinewy toughness of a food made hundreds of years ago doing nothing to improve his mood. “They know we’re here. Once they find us…” He left the thought unfinished.

  “They will turn me against you.” She brushed ancient faux chocolate crumbs from her jacket. It was borrowed from stores. Even the smallest size available looked baggy on her.

  “I have a solution.” Mason tried for a smile, but he didn’t have many left. “I can knock you out. There’s medicine here. Drugs.”

  “Will they still work?”

  “Maybe.” He meant yes, but I don’t want to do it.

  “We could find another way.” Laia meant I know, but there’s no one else I’d trust to guard me while I sleep.

  Mason held his trembling hand under the table. Her eyes followed the line of his arm to where it vanished from view, but she said nothing. The facilities here couldn’t fix him. That needed tech that hadn’t been invented when these people came to Abinal. “Something’s bothering me.”

  “Aside from me taking the blood from your body?” Laia tried it on like a joke, but it was too heavy for that.

  “Aside from that. Thing is, there are horses on Abinal. There are no horses here.” Mason held his hand up to the roof and the pyramid around them. “Where did the horses come from?”

  “And the people?”

  “Sure. It’s easier to think about the horses. Work back from there.” Mason clamped his shaking hand between his knees. He’d told her it might be months, but weeks-to-days was about all he gave himself now. “How did horses get to this backwater world?”