Why are they running away? They could crush Ruby. Austin hated the thought, but it was true. Which meant they were going for something else. Another one of Austin’s assets. A tastier prize.

  It didn’t matter. It left the TC and Ruby in a rain-drenched street. Austin felt like he should have popcorn. This was priceless.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  When Harry woke up, he hadn’t been thinking, you know, today’s the day I lead a rag-tag army on a frontal assault of an enemy syndicate. He’d thought about Lace, and he’d thought about what having a body might be like, one with four limbs and not coated in scar tissue. Harry even spared a thought to eating scrambled eggs outside a virtuality.

  Firing the cannon on the surface of a hick planet brought the gifted out of hiding. There were a couple hundred, all with eager eyes, shining bright with hope. They didn’t know what to make of Harry, couldn’t talk to him, but he imagined they remembered a different angel who came and set them free.

  Mason did a lot of things that let Harry look better.

  Leading the group back through the gate didn’t take a lot of convincing. He’d said what the hell do I do, and Lace said get moving, dummy so he’d walked back to the gate, stepped through, and was as surprised as the tech on the other side when near on two hundred people came with him.

  Cries of consternation and talk of protocols and decontamination rose, but Harry ignored it, taking all those bushy-tailed eager beavers up the Metatech elevator. Lace said links first, but Harry took the gifted to the canteen. He was prepared to start trouble with anyone who got in his way, but Metatech was sparse on people with spare fucks to give.

  There’s no one here. The company’s agents were out waging war, which was where Harry would be in an hour. He stood in the cafeteria on the hangar deck, a room designed for a hundred people, and observed the noise and chaos.

  If he could, he would have smiled. It wasn’t breaking the rules that made him feel happy. It was doing something nice for those who needed it. Food. Such a simple, easy, and cheap thing. Harry waited at the double doors to the cafeteria, chassis hunkered down, and waited.

  “You need to move, Harry.” Lace sounded tired, but excited, like she looked forward to his last day on the planet.

  “They need to eat.” Harry’s optics scanned the room, overlay reporting MALNUTRITION on many people he watched. “You shouldn’t die on an empty stomach.”

  “You shouldn’t die at all.”

  “True, but the reaper comes for us all.” Harry turned as the tech from downstairs approached his side, mouth open, astonishment painted on her face. She still held the tablet, but it dangled from her fingers like an old toy.

  She eyed the couple hundred people eating reconstituted soy like it was the best damn thing they’d ever had, sighed, and said, “This is so against the regs.”

  “That it is.” Harry kept the PA low, not wanting to startle the gifted. “Whole room of telekinetics.”

  “The whole room?”

  “Jesus, Harry!” Lace sounded two seconds away from a prime rant.

  “Hold a second. I’m doing a Mason.”

  The link hissed cautious agreement. “What’s a Mason?”

  “Not entirely sure,” admitted Harry. He switched back to the PA. “Sometimes if you want to win an unwinnable war, the regs need to flex.”

  The tech nodded. “I don’t know how we cover this up.”

  Already on board. Good. Harry held out his big metal hand, gesturing to the room. “They need links to stop the mind control.”

  “It’s a bag of fuckery.” The tech pursed her lips. “There’s a rapid-deployment facility a level up. Twenty at a time, three minutes for insertion, could have the room done in under ten minutes.”

  “Hmm.” Harry held his figurative breath.

  “Need a good reason.” She tapped her tablet with long nails.

  “Diagnostic run,” suggested Harry. “Speed drill.”

  “In the middle of a deployment?”

  “It’s why it makes such an effective test.” Harry watched her, seeing the stress markers under her skin as blood flow increased. “Look, put it on me. Say it’s my idea.”

  She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. We all need to do our part.”

  “Helping the syndicate.”

  “Helping the world.” She brushed a strand of hair back over her ear. “We win, or there’s no tomorrow.” The tech glanced at Harry, and he could see sadness and despair, masked by corporate professionalism strained right to the breaking point. “Bring them up a floor.”

  Harry watched her go. His link chimed. “That was doing a Mason?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You didn’t do anything.” She sounded exasperated.

  “I think that’s the whole Mason thing.” Harry turned to the room, ready to start corralling his legion. “He … lets people do what they should do. Or want to. He makes them think it was their idea.”

  “Because of the incentives?”

  “Because it’s the right thing to do, and if we stopped pressuring people, that’s what most would do anyway.” Harry sighed. “It’s taken me so long to understand.”

  Silence, broken by the crackle of the link. “You’re not so different from him.”

  “Mostly metal?”

  “Beautiful.” The link snapped closed. Harry felt his heart ache, because he was pretty sure he wouldn’t make it out of this alive, when all he wanted was to spend more time with Lace.

  There was time enough for the killing and the dying, but never enough for them.

  Harry tramped toward Human Energetics’ tower, a collection of rag-tag people at his back. No time to ‘borrow’ enough armor, but once the links were in and they could speak English, these people didn’t want ceramic plates on their bodies.

  They wanted to murder.

  Rain slicked Harry’s chassis. He led from the front, the storm howling, water driven by the wind sluicing the street. The floodlights on Harry’s chassis hammered the night.

  The street was empty of people, the odd burned-out husk of a vehicle littered throughout. Harry threaded his way through the street, the people with him keeping pace just fine. They still looked tired, but despite being recently fed they also looked hungry, and all they wanted to eat was payback.

  The men lifted stray cars with their minds, throwing them into the air. The women set them alight. Something about how their gifts worked — men could lift big things, the women lots of little things. The men are catapults, the women agitate the molecules until they burn. A handy combo.

  They managed to tear a gunship from the sky, throwing it into the side of Human Energetics. That’d get someone’s attention.

  After a few minutes, Harry saw a red-haired woman heading his way. He recognized her as the one he’d tackled outside this same building, but she walked with more strength. New metal under the surface. She’d killed Sam, and Harry knew Mike would take it as a personal favor if Harry turned her into stray carbon and water vapor. He opened a link comm to the one hundred and ninety-three people at his back. “Leave this one to me. You know the plan. Get out of sight. When those mind-controlling assholes get here, set ‘em alight.”

  He got a raft of acknowledgments, his team scattering. Harry’s plan wasn’t well formulated, but he knew Metatech would take a beating if they didn’t remove the Masters. Lace thought a link in their heads, tuned with HumanE’s Complier codes but guided by the host, would stop mind control. Worth a shot, and if it didn’t work, they were all screwed anyway.

  “Careful.” Lace highlighted the woman inbound, his overlay chattering as it spat up a complex set of information on her mods.

  “Jesus. The only thing she’s got left is her face.” Harry zoomed the optics, thermal hazing with the rain. He caught the glimmer of an Apsel reactor in her chest, and the cold blue motion of her bionic limbs. PAGE, RUBY the overlay said. EX-METATECH FRONTLINE MERCENARY. DISCIPLINARY DISCHARGE. TREAT WITH EXTREME CAUTION. “I see she’s known to the company.”

  “Her mods aren’t all on file.” Lace’s voice was focused. “Some black-market work. Her nervous system looks Russian mil-spec. And she’s got a coilgun in her arm.” Lace marked it on Harry’s overlay.

  “Which syndicate made it?” The coilgun was a concern, but Harry brought something better to this party.

  “Government, not syndicate. Which means it’s probably effective but not pretty.”

  Harry watched Ruby race toward him. He unlocked the railgun from his back, the weapon sliding into place on his shoulder. “Here’s a present from Uncle Omar.”

  Overtime slid into place, the rain slowing its descent, the individual drops pearlescent from Harry’s flood lamps. The railgun whined, then chunked as it spat a hunk of metal at Ruby. Water vaporized in the railgun’s path, the flash outshining the chassis’ lights for a second.

  Ruby dodged. She shifted her rush at the last minute, boots skidding then sticking. Harry’s optics caught metal cleats on her soles, the woman sliding under the railgun round. The shot hit HumanE’s building, down nice and low where enforcers milled about. The concrete behind her exploded in a shower of stone, pulping guards. Ruby pushed out of her slide with an armored hand, little puffs of asphalt flying from her feet as she made for cover behind a massive statue acid rain made unrecognizable. No face or even hands, just a doughy, dark gray mess. Thermal wasn’t any good, her body hidden by the stonework. Harry fired the railgun four more times, rendering the statue into rubble. He kicked the chassis’ speed up, closing the distance, but zoomed optics confirmed what his gut already knew.

  He’d hit nothing but air.

  Behind the statue was a manhole, the interior a yawning mouth, swallowing the rain. No way I’ll fit down there.

  “She’s using the sewer network. Schematics to your overlay now.” Lace sent a map to Harry, lines leading away from this point. One went toward a building to the left, the other behind Harry.

  Motherfucker. Harry swiveled the chassis just in time to see Ruby pop from a manhole in the street. She was airborne as she pointed her arm at him. Her palm opened like a flower, the mouth of the coilgun pointing at him. Harry scrabbled sideways, wishing for the millionth time he had the agility of his OEM body. She fired as he did.

  Rain sizzled to steam in the railgun’s passage, a building behind Ruby erupting into fragments of stone and wood. Harry’s right arm sheared from the chassis, falling to the street with a clank. Harry kept firing, his railgun whining with each cycle as he charged Ruby.

  She returned fire, trying for evasive maneuvers. It’s like trying to shoot a goddamned hummingbird. Wherever Harry pointed the cannon, Ruby wasn’t there.

  Lace’s voice sounded frantic on the link. “She’s using prediction software. Knows the spec of the Metatech firing system you’ve got. You can’t kill her this way. You can’t rely on the tech.”

  How the hell was he supposed to win? Harry was the tech. There wasn’t anything left of him. The chassis worked on algorithms and software. Nothing he did was him. His brain said walk but the chassis did the work. There’s a risk you’re deeply fucked.

  Whatever. You’ve had hard targets before. Harry kept his speed up, the chassis lumbering toward Ruby like a runaway train. She tried to move away, but this time the chassis almost won out.

  He hit Ruby, trying to snare her with his remaining arm. She slipped from his grasp, rolling away. Harry swiveled the chassis, broken arm socket trailing milky fluid, but his good hand hit Ruby like a polo mallet. She flew across the street and through the brick wall of a store promising BEST DECKS FOR LESS. It looked empty, the best decks gone now HumanE opened shop a couple blocks up.

  Harry lost sight of her. “What do you have for me?”

  “Get out. You’ve got some breathing room. Get clear.” Lace’s voice was pleading, desperate.

  Harry turned to HumanE’s tower. He thought about the one hundred ninety-three people he’d set loose. They were alone out here. Harry considered what Mason would do, and why he’d do it. “I can’t. Ruby needs to be stopped.”

  “No, she doesn’t! You. Will. Die.” She sobbed, her breath rasping in overtime. “Don’t go in there. Please.”

  Harry wound the chassis like a spring, setting it loose. He charged the decks-for-less store, impacting the frontage in a shower of metal and glass. Inside, the chassis lights combed the room. Mostly-empty shelving. Lights that hung on crazy angles from the ceiling. Harry was sure it’d smell of mold and old ass. He switched to thermal, his optics hazing. The overlay reported MULTIPLE IMPACTS and advised him to SEEK AN AUTHORIZED METATECH REPAIR FACILITY.

  No Ruby, though. “I can’t see her.”

  “Good. Maybe you got her.”

  “I’m not that lucky.” Harry trudged through the store, shoving shelves aside. His throw should have landed her over by an old wall screen. Its display was dark, but not cracked or damaged, which meant Ruby hadn’t kept the parabola he’d set her on. She’d taken evasive maneuvers. Ruby Page is still up and at ‘em, and she’s coming for you, Harry. “Lace?”

  “It’s the wrong terrain for the chassis. You don’t have to do this.”

  “I kinda do.” Harry crunched on. “There’s no one else.”

  “Doesn’t mean you need to do it.”

  “Kinda does.”

  When Ruby hit him with the coilgun, it cored the side of the chassis, through and through. He felt the white-heat of it, then the horrible cold as the round pierced the containment sac housing his meat remains. He coughed, choking, as his meat body struggled to breathe, fluids in all the wrong places.

  The chassis tamped down on the human reaction, highlighting the source of the shot. Ruby hid behind a concrete pillar. Harry fired the railgun, missing, and she fired the coilgun, tearing the railgun from its mount.

  He still had the fusion cannon but using that in here would kill a bunch of the people from Abinal. The firestorm unleashed would wreak unholy ruin on them, and Harry knew what burning alive felt like.

  Ruby sauntered from cover, her coilgun aimed at the chassis’ core, right where Harry’s remains lay. He could hear the crunch of her boots, overlaid with Lace’s crying on the link. She doesn’t need to see this. Harry didn’t want to die alone, but he could save Lace from the misery of the end.

  He closed the link.

  Ruby cocked her head. “Cutting off your handler?”

  “I guess.” Harry sighed over the PA. “All good things come to an end.”

  “They do.” Ruby nodded. “You fought well. You can have a clean death.”

  “Is there any such thing?” Harry looked for a way out, trembling to use the fusion cannon. But he didn’t. He held it tight, locked the chassis down no matter how much his lattice trembled to unleash it.

  Ruby gave a wry smile. “No.”

  Goodbye, Lace.

  The sound of a throat clearing drew both their optics. Harry took in a silhouette through the broken hole he’d torn in the building. His overlay cleaned up the image.

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?” Mike Takahashi stood, dripping rainwater, carrying a sidearm and a grenade, wearing nothing but his pants.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  You’re being a huge asshole.

  Mike began the evening steeped in his own misery, just as he always did. Sam’s memory drifted around, a ghost that wouldn’t leave him alone. The thought of going to the front of Afterlife where he’d have to look at the accusation in Delilah’s eyes set his teeth on edge.

  He looked at the sidearm on the table, picked it up, and put the barrel in his mouth. Mike caught a glimpse of himself in the room’s stained mirror. Pants which could use a wash. Skin taught with muscle overlaying bionics designed to kill people in the most efficient way. Mike’s optics skated over the gun in his mouth and looked at his eyes.

  Zooming, he saw the METATECH label on the irises. Even though his eyes weren’t meat anymore, they held pain. You’re not supposed to fall for your handler. It’s a business relationship.

  He’d read the company guide. Followed the Psych training. Don’t get too close. Letting them in is a mistake. They’re keeping you alive, that’s all. They’re not Valkyries. Just people, looking for their own percentage on the job.

  Except, Sam wasn’t. She’d got in his head. Lived there when even those he’d loved, like Delilah, left through the front door, not sparing a glance back.

  Mike looked at the gun in his mouth. His hand shook, a tremble in the meat or metal, it didn’t matter which. It’d be easy to pull the trigger, join Sam, and say fuck you to this bullshit world.

  Delilah’s not bullshit. She came in here with hard truth on the edge of a razor, cut you right to the core, but she didn’t lie.

  That was the problem. She never lied. Mike could use a little five-hundred-dollar-an-hour lie from time to time. Especially when the woman he loved died because a woman he hated got by him.

  Yeah, handlers had their agent’s backs, but the reverse was supposed to be true. And you let Sam down. You going to pull that trigger or go out there and clean that bitch Page’s clock?

  He could always kill himself later.

  Leaving Afterlife felt wrong. He should have someone at his side. Sam had been in his head so long he didn’t know what running solo was like. Here, he’d found a family. A crazy broken one, but kin nonetheless.

  He couldn’t face Delilah. Mike didn’t want to face Mason.

  So, he took the back exit. Mike passed a store of weapons of a hundred types. Tasers, grenades, assault rifles, sidearms, rocket launchers, the works. He’d built the room’s supplies up despite Sadie’s general wailing and gnashing, and here he was, no bandolier, not even a shirt.

  Putting on clothes felt like a lot of hard work. Mike needed his sidearm. It was a Metatech prototype, the last they’d issued before he left on sabbatical. He’d modified it to fire single shots rather than the five-round burst the R&D geeks intended. Somewhere in the shuffle paperwork got lost. When he left, he took ammunition designed to punch through tank armor. Each round carried a soft nougat electric charge inside a crunchy depleted uranium casing. It’d pierce the external armor of pretty much anything, release the charge, and melt a hole big enough to drive a loader through.