The air car shed its silver-white form, active camouflage shuddering aside. Delilah glimpsed a very different kind of aircraft. A gunship, weapons bristling, rode the sky before her before its active camouflage flowed back into place like a second skin. The Mercedes remained.

  Up and down. Those are your choices. Delilah hated heights.

  She yanked the rifle’s tripod from her belt in a fluid motion, dropping her weapon onto it. She keyed the link, issuing the tiny AI instructions. Autotarget the gunship. Fire until empty. Randomize firing frequency. Go. The tripod crawled up a gargoyle on insectile legs, pointing the heavy weapon at the sky.

  Delilah didn’t wait. She latched herself to a drop line, then jumped from the building. She fell, windows whisking by in a howl of air. The rifle’s boom-rack, boom-crack grew fainter as she fell, before a roiling ball of fire raged atop the tower.

  Her line sheared from above. Delilah fell.

  She tucked her arms by her side, angling her fall away from the building. Pieces of gargoyle would be joining her descent soon enough and she didn’t want to get tackled by one.

  Fifty floors from the pavement, she yanked her chute. Black gossamer bloomed above, yanking her shoulders. Her overlay estimated she was moving at fifty-five meters a second when the chute deployed. Fast enough for her augmented hundred kilograms to crack the street below. The chute cut the speed down like an angry savage hauling her short. Delilah tucked into a roll as she hit the pavement, cutting the parachute free with a quick link command.

  When she came to her feet, she ran. Small arms fire raked the ground where she’d landed. Behind her, pieces of gargoyle and other building materials crunched to the ground. Screams of looters and rioters filled the air.

  Delilah slid behind a car, digging bionic fingers into the doorframe. She tore the door off with a squeal of metal, sliding into the seat. It took less than two seconds for her mil-spec mods to jack the car’s computer, and it screeched into motion with a whine of its tiny drive. Delilah risked a glance behind her, optics zooming on the Human Energetics tower.

  A woman with bright-red hair stood outside the main entrance. Her arms were crossed, light combat armor under a wide smile. The red-haired woman made gun fingers at Delilah, then gave a lazy salute as she returned inside Human Energetics.

  Delilah knew that face.

  Ruby Page, back from the dead.

  Samson was dead, but his work wasn’t. Delilah followed a trail through the syndicates, cold as ice, pale as hope. Her exploration into Reed showed tenuous connections to Apsel and Metatech, but those were dead ends. The nets were alive with Metatech’s plummet as people wanted fewer weapons and more happiness. Gairovald Apsel had taken a leave of absence, the board stepping in. All seemed well until Amsterdam.

  The titans fall, leaving burning trails as they scorch the sky.

  A lead more tenuous than most drew Delilah to Human Energetics. She was used to working from the shadows. The info that drew her missions to success were rarely printed in clean twelve-point font. Hunches were her loadstone.

  When Austin Ainley, a lead researcher from the failed Reed Interactive, started his own company Delilah’s hunch said that motherfucker. Startups could do well with the right product at the right time. They didn’t buy up all Seattle’s uptown real estate within three months. That never happened.

  Two blocks from Human Energetics, Delilah slowed the stolen car. She told it to drive to the waterfront, then slipped free as it coasted at a walking pace. Back on the street, she drew her hood up, merging with the mass of humanity. Rioters mixed with looters. The real difference between the two types of people was what they carried. Rioters carried weapons, most looters carried tech. Smarter looters carried food and water.

  Police watched from the safety of barricades. They protected those who sought sanctuary but didn’t get involved in anything else. They weren’t paid enough for that kind of stupid.

  Delilah snuck behind two augmented men arguing over a dropped video unit. Her cloak and hood were coated in active camouflage. The material struggled with the environment, flames from burning storefronts running red and orange over the fabric. As Delilah passed a broken auto car, her cloak tried to match the prismatic confusion of light through broken glass.

  She spied a wailing child standing in the middle of the sidewalk. The tears looked authentic, but she doubted any parent would take a child into a hellscape like this. Her optics scanned, finding lurking thugs in the alley behind. Bait, a trap for the unwary. They weren’t Delilah’s prey. She had no time to right all the wrongs.

  Ruby Page is back from the dead.

  It took minutes to backtrack a block closer to HumanE’s office. The gunship no longer hovered in the sky high above. Ruby Page wasn’t visible, but Delilah was sure the woman watched from cams. She drew her cloak closer, laminar armor sliding underneath. A subway beckoned. Seattle’s failed transport network riddled the city like tumors. Most of the routes were marked on the public networks.

  Most, but not all.

  Delilah went below the noise and violence of the streets. A police drone dogged her path for a handful of steps, then buzzed away in confusion, unable to get a lock through the shifting shadow she wore.

  Ten steps below the streets, the light faded. Twenty, it was as if it had never been. Delilah’s optics switched to IR, the black and white graininess guiding her steps. She brought up the map she’d stolen from the city archives, tossing it to the top right of her overlay.

  Stepping over a man covered in a silver emergency blanket, the material flaring on her IR, she found what she was looking for. A blank wall rose before Delilah, crude brick sealing off an old tunnel. The plans said it used to disgorge commuters from a planned shopping facility. The mall never arrived, shoved aside by syndicate interests. The foundations became a building owned by Samsung before hostile takeover by Tencent. A careful laundered money trail showed bōryokudan taking an interest. The yakuza knew good property when they saw it. More recently, HumanE purchased the deed. Their tower prime rested on the headstones of dead empires.

  All the money in the world couldn’t buy a desire to learn ancient history. It was likely Human Energetics didn’t know all the backdoors into their building.

  Delilah planned for this day. She’d figured shooting Ainley after scooping a badly-hidden flight plan from the networks too good to be true. Worth a shot but unlikely to succeed. Always have five ways in and ten ways out. She pulled an explosive cable from the pouch at her hip, sticking it to the brick.

  She slipped to the side, triggering the blast through her link. Her audio scattered at the roar, brick showering the wall opposite. Dust hazed her IR. Delilah waited, patient. No alarms. She checked the way she’d come. The vagrant was gone, taking his thermal blanket with him. He might run to the police.

  More likely, he’d just keep running. Plenty of old tunnels you could sleep in without tangling with company agents.

  Delilah put a hand on the broken teeth of warm brick. Her new arm worked well, a much-needed replacement bionic after her job with Samson. Another spare from Metatech, not as good as her last employee-only one, but she wasn’t on payroll anymore. Synthskin made both arms look clinic-perfect like the rest of her.

  The passage ahead showed smooth tile beyond the small cascade of broken mortar. She stepped inside the disused tunnel, boots crunching on stone. Careful. Keep the noise down as you get deeper. Delilah slowed her pace. As she drew closer to HumanE, she had to remain quiet.

  The overlay promised a door ahead. Sure enough, rusted steel blocked her way. Delilah wondered what Samson would do. Would he even be here?

  Of course he would. Before the chair took his grace, he’d have been the first through the tunnel.

  She put her hand on the cold, old surface of the door. Spot welds joined the door to the frame near the handle. Delilah wrapped fingers around the handle, leaning back. Her new arm gave a soft whine, a ratchet of gears, and the welds popped with a harsh crack.

  Behind the door, drywall. She switched optics to thermal, seeing the dim orange and sullen red of heat beyond. A communications room with its cache of local servers and a power grid. No guards, because you don’t guard walls.

  She smiled, shucking her cloak for a moment. The refractive field stuttered out, leaving a material that would be transparent gray in the light of day. Delilah punched through the drywall, plaster crumbling as her bionics tore their way into the underbelly of HumanE. She shouldered inside, white particles clinging to her laminar armor. Once inside, she donned the cloak after giving it a quick shake. It could cope with a little dirt, but too much and it would be less effective.

  The hum of servers welcomed her to the comm room like a hive of happy bees. She unclipped a vampire probe from her belt, locking it to a thick bundle of cables rising from the floor. The tech scanned EM, picking up signals in the wires. Most comms were encrypted, but she might get lucky.

  Not for the first time, she wished she had a handler. Ollie might have helped, but Ollie was on vacation. Uruguay, planting trees for the locals. The memory of his earnest face made her smile again. Since Samson’s sacrifice let Ollie walk again, all he’d wanted to do was move.

  Her link chattered to the probe. As she suspected, most of it was the meaningless noise of encrypted comms. Delilah let the hiss flow through her audio, the susurration of syndicate static a torrent of information no human could hope to understand. She told the link to look for words, then shifted her attention to her route.

  Austin Ainley wouldn’t be here. But since Delilah was and had time to kill, she’d locate what she could. Maybe she’d come up empty, or maybe she’d find something to help next time.

  City planning said the lower and ground levels were maintenance and public access. Delilah needed to climb higher. A hundred floors to get to the offices of people who worked here, the legion of souls doing the bidding of a man who promised happiness.

  She padded on silent feet to the elevator risers, mighty shafts reaching through the core of the building. There were fifteen elevators in the building. Delilah broke the mechanical lock on riser four, slipping inside and feeling the rush of air and roar of the cars rising and falling.

  Except, not as much as she expected. Only a couple of the cars rode the building’s floors. That’s unusual. Delilah jacked the control module at the riser’s base, bringing elevator four down for maintenance. She grabbed the underside, then let the car rise. Delilah’s cloak billowed in the rush of wind.

  Small bulbs glowed sullen yellow in the shaft, fireflies keeping her company as the high-speed elevator rocketed to the skies. A hundred and fifty stories up, she stopped the car. This floor’s as good as any other. Optics still on thermal, she scanned the lobby. Not a soul around, the dull blues of an empty room waiting for her.

  A quick link command and the lobby’s elevator door opened. Delilah slipped inside, closing the door behind her. She switched her optics back to normal vision. Her adaptive cloak shifted, matching the world around her. Delilah pulled the hood’s cover across her face, letting the gauzy fabric hide her. Anyone looking at Delilah might see a shimmer in the air, figure they’d done enough fifteen-hour back-to-back shifts, and go grab a coffee.

  Why is this floor empty?

  Delilah padded to an office. It stood vacant, a deck waiting by a large screen. No plants. A bookcase hungered for mementos. She walked to another office. It was the same. Hurrying on, Delilah made it to a cube farm. All orderly rows, decks waiting for workers.

  There were no workers. Not a soul walked this floor of Human Energetics.

  This is why a handler would be useful. Sat telemetry from above to see what went on down here in the dirt. Or, a handler could hack the city cam network, looking for discrepancies. Delilah stood in the heart of the enemy’s empire without backup and found her adversary … gone.

  She paced further into the building. Delilah found a break room, snack machines against a wall. A pool table, a couple of VR rigs, and an empty bay of food cabinets sat in the stillness. The lights were off, waiting for someone with a pulse. Delilah pulled the gauze from her face, the lights glowing as sensors saw part of someone, enough movement to keep them interested. The large wall screen lit as it sensed motion.

  “Here at Human Energetics, we make products to keep you happy.” A calm, warm male voice spoke ad copy as images of smiling, beautiful people picnicked in a park. Delilah had no idea where the stock was from, but nowhere in Seattle looked like that. You’d need to wait a year or more to find enough days without rain for the ground to stop being mud, for a start.

  “Our first product made happier, healthier babies.” She felt bile rise. Enough threads had shown Reed’s invention, Omo’s Island Adventure, was the basis for HumanE’s tech. Mind control. These fuckers used it on infants. “Our patented Decider and Complier technologies are now available for your whole family. Bad day at work?” The image shifted to a woman, brow furrowed, caught in cubicle misery. “Everyone has them. With HumanE at your side, you can be happier, more productive, and more valuable to your employer.”

  The scene shifted, a couple arguing. “Relationship blues? It’s just a fact of life, but it doesn’t need to bring you down.” A brief graphic of link architecture, waves radiating between the couple. “With HumanE in your hearts, you will love each other more.” The couple calmed, smiled, and kissed.

  The scene cleared, showing a sidewalk of people shoulder by shoulder. “Don’t be one of the also-rans. Don’t be lost to progress. Be the best, happiest, and healthiest you. Visit a HumanE clinic today. There’s one in your city. And as a special offer, the first ten thousand customers in each clinic get their upgrade completely free.”

  A brief scroll of text flashed below the video. COMPATIBLE WITH MOST LINK ARCHITECTURES. VISIT A CLINIC FOR A NO-OBLIGATION SESSION.

  Delilah wrapped the hood’s mask across her face. She wanted to be sick. Human Energetics had mind control, and they had people queuing to opt in. Who wouldn’t want to be more comfortable eating the miserable shit sandwich of their lives?

  The problem, Dee, is they haven’t chosen to be a thrall. They just want a little slice of happiness and can’t afford the exec suite like the high-fliers.

  Delilah helped herself to a soda from a machine, popping the top with a crisp hiss of effervescence. She dropped the cloak’s camouflage, walking slower as she took in the office environment. This building was huge. It was built for thousands of workers.

  Workers who weren’t here.

  Human Energetics were making a slave army. It didn’t take much effort to join the dots. She sipped Cherry Coke, pausing at an empty boardroom. The wall screen was glowing but empty of content. Delilah wandered inside, trailing a gloved hand over the smooth table surface. The sensors in her glove fed her fingertips like they were meat, her armor and bionics of a quality reserved for the military elite. Delilah wouldn’t ever feel with flesh and blood again. She’d earned her metal prison, but HumanE hadn’t earned their cattle.

  If Delilah had any say, they never would. But she couldn’t fight something like this by herself. And there weren’t any people like her left. You weren’t like this before you met Samson. Maybe you can pay it forward.

  She needed a lead; no point breaking into the enemy’s fortress if you don’t take a souvenir. Delilah found another office, faceless surfaces devoid of humanity. There wasn’t even a photo frame on the desk. She settled behind it, the chair hissing as it sank. Her Cherry Coke waited, moisture beading on the surface as she put it next to the screen. Delilah froze, hand half-way toward waking the console as her audio picked up noise from where she’d entered from.

  Boots. The clatter of equipment. Corporate security. They’d be after her, so she didn’t have much time.

  Her link hissed, picking up a stray name from a garbled rush of comms courtesy of the vampire tap she’d left below. In the clear, a simple text message relayed to a burner phone. EXTRACTION SCHEDULE UPDATED FOR HB. PRIORITIZE.

  That was it. After a thousand encrypted messages, just one sent in the clear. It was enough of a prize to make the incursion worthwhile.

  Delilah crouched, using the desk for cover. Adaptive camo was good, but solid objects were better. She scurried to the door, pulling her cloak about her, the whisper of cloth draping her in fake imagery. She glanced out, face hidden by gauze, and saw armored troops checking the rooms. Delilah counted five before her eyes settled on red hair above a cocky smile.

  Ruby Page was here.

  “Come on out, Delilah.” Ruby sauntered like she owned the place. Delilah gave her a quick scan; thermal showed Ruby had more work done since they’d last met. “We’ve got you cornered. I know the old saying. Five ways in, ten ways out. You’ve got no ways out.”

  Delilah darted across the corridor, keeping low. Her cloak was good tech, but smaller targets were always better. Her laminar armor kept her body heat safe from prying eyes, the soles of her boots no warmer or cooler than the floor they rested on. But Ruby Page, before her fall from Metatech’s management team, had been good. Possibly the best field agent they’d had, so some douche slapped a promotion on her and gave her more equity. “I see you, Delilah! Twice in one day.” Ruby’s voice held manufactured glee.

  If Ruby had seen her, Delilah would be dead. She unholstered her sidearm. The Eagle’s weight felt comforting and solid. Delilah backed into the boardroom she’d entered earlier.

  A guard entered from the opposite door, checking the corners, sighting down his rifle. A professional. He wore combat armor, bulky gray mil-spec equipment with the HumanE logo on the breastplate. Delilah duck-walked around the board table. The guard didn’t see her, faceless behind his visor. She slid the Eagle into its holster as she reached him, stood, and hammered the back of his skull with her fist.

  As he fell, she caught the guard in one arm and his weapon in the other. She eased both to the ground. His link would be out, his team homing in on his last location. Good.