“Exactly.” Austin wheeled, offering Ruby his warmest smile. “You can have Olivia now. And,” he jerked his thumb at the data scaffold, “Goliath. Get Carter. Kill everyone else. Don’t fuck it up this time.”

  Ruby nodded, perking up. No doubt she had visions of dead Mike Takahashi. “You got it, boss. This won’t take long.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Rigging Afterlife with speakers and cams wasn’t too hard. That sack of shit Bernie already put cams in compromising places, and all Sadie needed to do was add in a little audio magic. She’d rigged her own shows for a long time before ending up here. It was an easy rhythm.

  It meant Carter could be a part of their lives. No need to wonder what they were thinking. She’d know. And unlike being tethered to a body, she could be in all places at once.

  “I feel like an anchor,” Carter admitted.

  Sadie eyed the cam above her dressing room mirror. The room smelled of dust and regret. The guitar Mason dredged from dead Richland leaned against the wall, waiting for someone worthy. The Stratocaster wouldn’t sing for her anymore. “One thing at a time.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re not a target.”

  “I kinda am.” Sadie stared at her reflection. Her skin was gray, hollows under her eyes. The Patch she’d bought from Slim Tor needed her, and she was having a hard time not walking further into oldtown and getting another hit. There’d be plenty of excuses to resupply. Like with those Metatech fuckers about to get in her grill. “I’ve spent my life under the radar. Now I’m on the syndicate’s very own stage.”

  “This wasn’t part of the deal.”

  Sadie sighed. “I’m sorry about that. I know you said to stay by Mason, but—”

  “That’s not what I meant. You’ve done so much more than I hoped. I keep underestimating all the wrong people. You’d think I’d be better at this by now.”

  “Do I want to know how Zach is?”

  “No.”

  Sadie wanted to sag, to put her head on the table and just let go for one fucking second. There wasn’t time for that. Too many things to do. “Do you have any good news?”

  “The drug will be out of your system in forty-eight hours. It’s better news than, ‘The bad guys have a machine more powerful than me.’”

  Sadie laughed, then cut it short. “You’re serious.”

  “You’ve put me in a Toyota-Mitsu body but left me Maserati dreams. It’s the way it is.”

  She nodded. Her arms trembled with the effort of holding her from the table. Sadie snarled at herself, turning away from her dead-tired expression. “How’d they get on with Zach?”

  “Decided and Complied. Their tech is ex-Reed, refined by the cum stain who runs the company. The Decider provides a suggestion. The Complier is more forceful. The link integration works ground up. You humans should never have wired ‘em into the brain stem.”

  “I didn’t.” Sadie made for the door, eying the Stratocaster. There’ll be another time. “No metal under my skin.”

  “No, you made do with addiction.” A pause. “Sorry, Sadie. I don’t know where the bad code stops, and I begin.”

  “You’ve always been a bit of an asshole. That sounds like pure Carter to me.” Sadie closed the door on her way out, leaving the Stratocaster in darkness.

  When she made the main area of Afterlife, the scent of ammonia hit her before the usual comforting smell of old smoke and older liquor. Sadie glanced around. Harry rested in the corner, docked to power. Lace’s chair sat near him, her hand on the metal skin of the massive man-machine.

  Mike leaned on a broom from his lurking spot by the door. Delilah lounged at a big table in the middle of the room, console open beside her, the display glowing in the gloom. She faced the door, looking relaxed, like she faced down a strike team from an enemy syndicate every day.

  Sam stood behind the bar, a rifle not far from her. Sadie let her gaze rest on the rifle for a moment longer than necessary. You understand what it’s like to be powerless in a room of the powerful. The rifle wouldn’t help anything except nerves if the shit hit the fan. Metatech were coming, and by all accounts they were pissed.

  Sadie dropped herself in a chair beside Delilah. “How’s it?”

  “Bad.”

  “Good story.” Sadie nodded to the console. “Everything as it should be?”

  Carter spoke from the console. “Everything’s ready, Sadie. Relax.”

  Delilah shook her head. “We left a teenage boy with the enemy.” She looked down, her voice almost too quiet to hear. “Samson would have found another way.”

  “Samson couldn’t find the path without you, Dee.” The console flickered as Carter put up code fragments in quick succession. “He had some of the pieces. I helped him find the shards, but you made him whole.”

  “You helped him, and I made him dead.”

  “He helped me. You made him live for the first time.” Carter sounded sad. “He was a wonderful man. The third-best human I’ve known.”

  Delilah looked at the console, face unreadable. “Third?”

  “There are two better. We need to get this Metatech bullshit squared away to get one of them back here.”

  Delilah nodded. “He was the best I’ve known.”

  The console cleared. “It’s not empirical. It’s subjective.” The screen blanked, Carter’s version of leaving so Delilah could be alone with her thoughts.

  Sadie lit a Treasurer, wondering why there were still good people dying for bad reasons. The syndicates took, and kept on taking, until there was nothing left. It was important to remember, because one of ‘em would come through the main door in minutes. She needed her game face on. Fish out true steel from beneath the shakes of withdrawal.

  The console updated, showing a feed from outside Afterlife. Carter said, “It begins.” The image of the street confirmed what Sadie’s ears told her. Black gunships, all sleek metal with RADAR-absorbent paint, cruised to land outside. The street was empty, the city running out of people with the enthusiasm to loot or riot. Metatech’s crossed sabers adorned the side of the gunships.

  Skids on the deck, the gunships disgorged humans. Men and women in black combat armor fanned out, rifles pointed in every direction. Sadie leaned forward, watching as they set up a perimeter. At least they didn’t glass the bar from above.

  After a delay, a lone man walked from a gunship, striding toward the door. Two enforcers flanked him. Sadie raised her eyes as the door opened, the man stepping inside. He wore a suit worth more than her whole bar beneath an overcoat of brushed wool. His smile spoke of exacting time in a clinic chair to get the perfect look. His guards entered, scanning the room.

  They pointed their weapons at Harry, Mike, Dee, and finally at Sadie. She sighed. “Is this bullshit really necessary?”

  The asshole in charge stepped inside, brushing rainwater from his overcoat. “Sadie Freeman.”

  “How you doin’?”

  “I’m doing well, thank you.” He turned to Mike. “Takahashi.”

  Mike’s eyes were a little wider than usual. “Omar Moreno himself.”

  Omar nodded, wearing a million-dollar smile like he could eat shit and just ask for someone to pass the salt. He strode toward Sadie, seating himself opposite her. He pulled a small rectangle of paper from inside his suit, pushing it across the table with a spin.

  She caught it, palm down. Sadie read the text on the old-fashioned business card.

  OMAR MORENO

  CHIEF DESTRUCTION OFFICER

  She raised her eyes. “Catchy title.”

  “It’s our internal card. I use something more formal for business meetings, but since everyone here is ex-Metatech, I felt it appropriate.”

  His two guards walked further into the room, checking the corners, heads on swivels. Mike sighed. “Miles. Obie. Chill out. This isn’t that kind of day.”

  “As you say.” Miles — or was it Obie? — moved about like the room was full of devils.

  “I’ve come for what’s owed.” Omar’s smile turned apologetic. “You understand how it is.”

  “I understand. And you’ll get it. I wonder if we could have a practical conversation.” As Carter spoke, Delilah slid a memory sliver across the table with a similar spin Omar used with his card. Omar caught it without looking down, eyes fixed on Sadie.

  “A practical conversation?” Omar slipped the data sliver into a coat pocket.

  “It’s like this,” said Sadie. “Human Energetics are fucking your business. They’re not doing the decent thing of a dinner and a movie first. Just taking your stock into the alley and doing it rodeo style.”

  “Ah.”

  “The reason why is because they’re stopping all the wars.” Sadie leaned back, flicking ash from her cigarette. “They are making people happy. Normally that would be cause for celebration, but they’re also making slaves.”

  “The rain effect?”

  “Link-jacking.” Delilah watched the Metatech enforcers carefully. Sadie noted her hand didn’t stray from her holstered sidearm. “Same but different. Tencent-Samsung links are most susceptible, but Metatech links are also at risk.”

  “It’s why we’ve got you here,” said Mike. “It was the only way.”

  The one Sadie decided looked like a Miles spun, firing on Delilah. Obie’s weapon found Mike, roaring. If there was a shred of good news, it was no one was firing at her. Omar rose, a thick-barreled sidearm coming from under his jacket. He turned to Harry, the big total conversion shoving Lace behind him. Sam raised her rifle.

  Mike and Dee dove for cover, moving faster than Sadie could follow. None of Afterlife’s people fired their weapons. In two short seconds, all gunfire stopped.

  Carter sighed. “There we go. And now…” She hummed. Omar’s eyes went glassy, and Miles and Obie dropped their weapons with a clatter. “Done.”

  Omar sat, his face wide and lost. Sadie nodded to Sam, who lowered her rifle before bringing over whisky and glasses. Mike and Dee rose, each moving to Miles and Obie, helping the enforcers sit.

  “What just happened?” Omar touched the side of his face. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, that’s a long and complicated story.” Sadie poured whisky. “The short version is Human Energetics jacked your links a while back. It’s why you’ve been so intent on bending over for ‘em. Not only are we going to give you the gate tech we promised, we’ve also given you back your souls. You’re welcome.”

  Omar took his whisky, sipping it. “This is good.”

  “It tastes of freedom.” Sadie leaned back. “That’s it. That’s the whole thing. You can go now.”

  “What about everyone else?” Omar turned, as if he could see his team in the street outside.

  Carter sighed. “We’ve taken care of them too. We can’t do much for people outside the range of our shitty-ass equipment here, but the people here are themselves again. Their choices are their own, and they’ll regret the consequences of their actions just like always.”

  Omar shook his head. “No, I meant, what about everyone else in the world?”

  Mike smiled, looking like the Tooth Fairy was real and he’d proved it. “I told you Metatech’s CE was on the level.”

  “You’re very smart.” Sadie eyed Omar over her glass. “You want to help?”

  “I want to fuck those motherfuckers,” admitted Omar.

  “Good.” Sadie let her grin loose, despite the sickness of withdrawal seething in her gut. “Here’s how we win this unwinnable war.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  It didn’t rain much on Abinal anymore. Mason knew from Laia the Masters used rain demons to control people, turning them to Seekers. He wasn’t clear if it was just the one demon, many, or if that kind of thinking made sense. It hurt his head the same way thinking about string theory did. With the demons came rain, and since Mason and Laia had been killing all the Masters, there was a lot more sunlight to go around. But what rain there was turned icy, the usual temperatures savage without eternal cloud cover to greenhouse blanket the world.

  Clear nights were cold, but the stars were bright. Cold didn’t bother Mason, and he couldn’t remember a night sky like this on Earth. Too much city hiding the heavens.

  It was so clear here he could see for klicks. No smog, rain, or clouds. His optics scanned the dark, showing the legion arrayed before him. He’d crept from the pyramid, climbing the sides, leaving the robots to patrol the base. The rifle waited by his side, patient. It’d stood in this pyramid for hundreds of years, and Mason figured it’d wait a few more minutes for release.

  Mason breathed, smelling the air. It held the fragrance of flowers and clean wind. Up atop the pyramid, the swamp below was a memory. He ignored his overlay as it nagged him about the number of hostiles below. It said four hundred ninety-three and reminded him he only carried three magazines of fifty rounds each.

  A perfect hit-to-kill ratio wouldn’t save Mason, but he wasn’t angling to kill all the people here. Laia taught him what it felt like to save people rather than hurt them.

  His borrowed, ancient armor fit well enough. It didn’t have any powered options, just strong synthetic materials good enough to stop a bullet or a knife. It shouldn’t come to that. Mason was in the business of killing Masters. All he needed to do was find ‘em.

  He let his optics roam the people outside, switching to thermal. The dark blue of the cold ground and trees contrasted with the brilliant warm red-yellow of people. Mason learned since arriving on Abinal the Seekers’ body temperatures were a little higher than human normal. Like they had an infection and were trying to fight it off.

  36.5 to 37.5C. That was human normal, and what the Masters would be. It was also the temperature Bonus Round would be, if she were here. He smiled, remembering Sadie. Mason hoped she was well. Be honest. You hope for more. Three months and you still hold her in your heart. He also hoped she’d been left alone, free of company bullshit. She hadn’t earned syndicate attention. Sadie earned her peace.

  He glanced at the stars, as if he could see her there, but it was only night sky, stretching horizon to horizon.

  A distant shout drew his eyes to the ground. He looked, hoping for a Master. His fingers found the rifle, and he shouldered it, waiting. Mason didn’t see any Masters. The mass of Seekers turned to the east. Mason looked in that direction, eyes combing the terrain. There. A couple klicks out, he saw two figures running closer.

  37C. Perfect.

  He sighted down the rifle, trying to still the shaking in his arm. Mason’s optics zoomed, highlighting the two runners. Their gait was ragged, one stumbling, the other hauling them up. Mason held his finger on the trigger. Two klicks were a hard shot to make, so he had a little time.

  They’re smaller than the rest. The realization he was pointing a high-powered rifle at two kids hit Mason. He wanted to lower the weapon, but he also knew it wasn’t the first time they’d encountered Masters who were children. They could be just as deadly as adults. He tightened his hands on the rifle, slowing his breathing.

  The Seekers ran toward the two children.

  Mason lowered the rifle a fraction. Seekers didn’t run at the Masters. With ‘em, sure. At their command, no problem. But as far as Mason knew, Seekers only ran at prey.

  Could be a trick. What kind of lunatic would run into a field of Seekers, at the end of which is a pyramid of death and broken dreams?

  Mason’s gut told him that wasn’t it. He remembered one of the children falling, the other helping. He thought of Laia and her brother, and how they helped each other. This could be two with their gift. They might need help.

  Was it worth the risk?

  He looked at the stars, hoping for answers. A glimmer of light bloomed above, so faint he wondered if he imagined it. Another joined it, then a third, before all three vanished. The heavens answer. Don’t be a dick.

  Shouldering the rifle once more, he aimed at the converging Seekers. A klick and a half now, easier, but still some wind drift and bullet drop. Overlay calculating, lattice guiding his hand, he squeezed the trigger.

  The weapon cracked, hardly shifting at all, the recoilless design almost as good as modern weapons Mason was used to. He fired a second shot, then a third, quick as thought.

  Seekers stumbled, falling. Three shots. One kill, two leg hits. Seekers still at the pyramid’s base scrambled forward, trying the suicide rush for his position. He linked the robots, converging them at the pyramid’s base.

  They hummed forward, ancient engines working well. They fired canisters, gas exploding in big green clouds amid the Seekers. They slowed, limbs uncoordinated, before dropping. The robots had lethal weapons, but he imagined Laia watching him. Judging him.

  Don’t get cocky.

  Mason’s position atop the pyramid let him look down all four sides. Behind him, Seekers scrambled up. Staying here would end in one way only, because he didn’t have enough bullets for everyone, and besides, there were two kids coming in hot.

  Time to go. He hung the rifle by its sling, jumping. Mason soared down the side of the pyramid, touching the side every hundred meters, bionics keeping his momentum up. He landed in the gas cloud with a crunch he felt in his teeth. The crunch was because he was wearing out, but the gas was deliberate. Lungs designed for harvesting oxygen from lethal nerve gas were fine for this years-gone sleeping gas.

  Running through the trees, he headed for the children. His optics showed the way, Seekers bright humanoid pillars on every side. Mason ran fast as the wind, hitting sixty klicks an hour. He smashed through the dead husk of a tree, trailing wood splinters. Mason passed through a clump of four Seekers, dropping his shoulder as he ran, scattering them like bowling pins.

  Another on his right keened, and he shot it in the leg, not pausing his run. The overlay led him on. Mason burst into a clearing, the two children surrounded by Seekers. Mason’s rifle moved between them, hammering the dark, the flare of heat bright on his optics. Seekers slumped, trying to clamber forward.