The Deep Link (The Ascendancy Trilogy Book 1) (19 page)

Whatever he downloaded, it must be important, maybe even
enough to force the guy into hiding. How deep is Preston really sinking him? He
accesses the data package, no longer able to resist his curiosity. It's
encrypted.
Of course
.

Bray empties his glass with a last sip, and stands up.

"Sir?" The bartender spreads his hands on the
counter top, looking intently at him.

Damn
. "One moment, please."

Bray quickly checks the account information Preston's
given him for emergency expenses, and activates the debit port. The interactive
table displays a six-digit alphanumeric product code in glowing red letters. He
taps it into his nacom, smiles self-assuredly, and walks over to the bar.

The bartender scans his wrist with a small handheld. Bray
gives the two TMC lieutenants a last sideway glance. They're still oblivious of
him, now quietly staring into their half-empty glasses. He's about to step
outside, when a heavy hand lands on his shoulder.

In a decade-old reflex, he darts forward and bolts into
the street. He steals a glance behind, and sees the bartender grimace fiercely
half a step behind him. The man grabs him by the overall and pulls him back and
sideways, slamming him against the wall.

Bray pushes off with both hands, spins and kicks him in
the thigh. He only makes it a couple of steps away before that heavy hand
thunders against his ear and slaps him around the corner of the building into a
side-alley.

Bray catches himself quickly. Unfortunately, so does the
bartender. The surprisingly athletic man kicks him right in the small of his
back, knocking him to the ground.

Bray flips around and crosses his arms over his face. The
bartender kicks him in the stomach instead. He curls into a fetal position,
coughing painfully.

"I hate scum like you," the bartender says.
"Think you can fool me with a fake account, you piece of shit?"

Bray wraps his arms around his bruised stomach. Fuck
Preston and his goddamn hacks. And fuck Taryn too. She should've been here to
code that damn account properly. Then he wouldn't be getting his fucking guts
kicked in right now.

"You're lucky I'm feeling all nice and friendly
today," the bartender says. "Next time I'll crush you like the filthy
shit-worm you are. Click that?"

"Won't happen again," Bray huffs. He turns over,
knees bent uselessly against the pain.

The bartender straightens his bowtie and suit, and sticks
his hands in his pockets. "You should thank me for not having those Ticks
arrest you."

"Thanks," Bray groans. And means it.

The bartender spits in Bray's face, and walks away.

Jade hasn't said a single word to me since we dropped out
of FTL. I'm not sure how much of his silence is worry and how much is anger,
but I'm not in the position to pester him about it. I'm thankful he waited for
me—probably hoping I'd change my mind, even though it now means I'm flying back
to San Gabriel and Preston and all.

My fugue was much milder this time. It's as though a new
strength has grown within me. A sober, implacable strength that protects me
from the nightmares of my past. It's not my own strength, it's Amharr's. And
that's what's bugging me. What else did he change? Am I still myself?

The old me would have
never
accepted help from a
mass murderer. Especially when that 'help' is a perverted form of
self-preservation that involves killing my alien family, destroying my home,
and throwing me to the bottom of the human pecking order by wrecking my
wetware. Yet I can't deny I'm somehow glad he did it, which fills me with guilt
and all sorts of conflicted feelings. He even almost made me feel...

A chill runs down my back. I can't believe we've switched
from loathing to almost...

No.

I should stop thinking of him. I can't even grieve for the
Dorylinae properly, for my childhood friends and alien sister. All I can think
of instead is his ravenous hunger... that craving...

No
!

He's a soulless monster, completely oblivious of others'
lives. If he wouldn't become traumatized—or whatever he thinks will happen if
our connection gets cut—he'd have killed me long ago. He only set me free for
his own wellbeing. I must hold on to that.

Jade flies the
Transiter
through one of Erano's
cargo port entry points and carefully maneuvers it into that rustbucket of a
ship's open bay. When we get out it's obvious pretty quickly that the port's
respectable denizens have raided Preston's ship to the bone. Panels are ripped
out of the walls, quarters are trashed, and the storage crates are smashed,
shot open, or completely missing.

Jade closes the bay gate to secure the
Transiter
,
still not saying a word to me. Then we head toward the Cargo Distribution and
Administration Center, looking for Sergeant Costa.

The Center teems with people. As I check one of the large
monitors suspended above the hall, I realize we landed square in the middle of
the afternoon shift. Jade walks up to the next best guy, and asks to see the
Sarge. The man hesitates, inspecting us top to bottom, then points us toward
the back of the Center.

We make our way through the bustle and come to a small
center wrapped in plexiglass panels. The door slides open and we enter a
crowded waiting room. The ceiling is nothing but a muffle-zone forcefield that
keeps out the external noise. The room is lined with plastic benches and a few
booths, all clearly meant to shut out noise, not vision. A good thirty people
already wait inside.

I notice Sergeant Costa coming toward us with a stack of
flexpads, stopping to shake several hands before he finally faces us with a
wide grin.

"Well how about that," he says. "The two
Musketeers."

I cross my hands on my chest.

Costa shakes his head and walks back to his little
plexiglass office. Five other officers are there, pushing papers and flexpads
out through wickets to the waiting people. Several complain that we're defying
the queue.

"We need to get into Erano," Jade says.

"Well, it's not gonna be easy. But I'll see what I
can do."

"Have the riots in D2 ended?" I ask.

He grins at me over his shoulder. "They never do,
sweetheart. But don't worry, I'll see to it you're safely delivered."

"Thanks," Jade says.

"Now why don't you wait out there, eh?" He
gestures at the crowd behind us. "I'll try to contact Preston for
you." He pushes a couple of loudly complaining workers aside, and slides
the transparent door closed in their faces.

Jade and I find a place to sit on a plastic bench—easier
than expected since most people stood up to grouch and claim their papers the
moment Costa got out. I can see him stand there, grinning, nibbling at a
sandwich and chatting with his colleagues, not once trying to call somebody.

My palms are itching. I rub them insistently against my
knees.

Jade is sitting next to me, legs stretched out. I stretch
my legs out too, frowning at my frost-damaged boots. They look strangely
distant to me, as if they're a projection and I'm not really sitting here at
all.

"I wonder if they know," Jade muses, his voice
masked by the overall cacophony.

"What do you mean?"

"The Ticks, about the attack on the hive."

I shrug. I stare at Costa having a merry time, wishing my
eyes could burn a hole through the plexiglass and straight into his greasy
forehead.

"They must have surveillance drones around Maza,
right? The TMC wouldn't just leave aliens unsupervised in human space. Wonder
if news already got to the high ranks."

"I don't know, Jade. I don't care."

"Seriously?" He turns toward me. "That's
like a declaration of war. That alien just attacked Trust property, in Trust
space. Think the TMC's just gonna let it slide?"

"Maza finally got wiped clean without them having to
spend a single credit. Of course they will. They tried to damage the Master
Hive for weeks, not making a dent. Now someone else did it for them. Case
closed." My palms are burning now.

"You forgotten how xenophobic they are?" Jade's
voice echoes in my ears. "They're gonna see red when they find out about
this. Probably track us back here and pluck us off this rock one by one. All
because of that
fucking alien
!"

"Be quiet. People are staring."

Jade rubbernecks to check and at least five people avert
their faces. "Whatcha looking at, dipshits? Mind your own crap." I
chuckle. Jade snaps his head around and huffs at me. "You think it's
funny?"

"Not really." I'm laughing anyway. I sigh and
lean my head against his shoulder. He freezes. He slowly leans his head against
mine and lifts a hand to stroke my face, but doesn't. He rests it on his knee,
almost touching mine. His shoulder heaves softly with every breath, and his
heart beats through the veins on his forearm. He's full of life, even when he
stands still—afraid to move and startle me out of my closeness. He's a living
being: a human, just like me. We're both people, friends, and we're close.

Except I don't feel close to anything anymore. Not since
I've had to revise my understanding of
close
.

"He really got to you, didn't he?"

I stand up, refusing to look at Jade. I walk up to the
plexiglass door of Costa's office, and grab the lock. It stings my palm and I
jerk my hand back. A tiny thread of smoke snakes out of the lock. I clench my
fist to stifle the stings, press my other hand against the door and slide it
open.

Costa and a couple other guys stare at me. One even tells
me to wait in line. Another swears he's locked the door and bitches about the
shitty security system. The little office reeks of old sweat and moldy food.
And I swear someone farted two seconds ago.

"Didn't get through, miss," Costa says. He takes
another bite of his sandwich.

"Bullshit."

He swallows and throws the rest into a bin. He spins
around with his chair and gives me a sleazy look that just begs for a punch.
"Think you're gonna have to wait 'til tomorrow. Don't worry, I've got a nice
place for you to stay."

"Not interested."

"You sure? I've got expensive sheets and VR perks,
imported straight from Alpha. Off the record, of course."

"Not in this life, Sarge."

He narrows his eyes. "Too bad. Well, let me check
things again." He turns the chair around and taps lazily on his computer.
"There's something in one of the tubes for you. Want to get it now?"

"No, I think I'll come back next week," I snark.

One of his colleagues chuckles. Then looks away when I
glance at him.

"Fine, I'll get it for you." Costa stands up.
There's a set of opaque transport tubes dropping in from a complex lattice
hanging overhead. A pressurized package-distribution tube hisses open. Costa
retrieves an aluminum box slightly bigger than my hand. "Doesn't say what
to do with it."

"Give it to me."

There's that shifty glint in his eyes again. "Looks
expensive to me. Sure you don't want an escort to Erano?"

"I'll manage."

He shrugs and hands me the box. "Suit yourself."

I slide the glass door open and walk back out to Jade. I
sit on the plastic bench and open the box. It's a synet injector.

Jade groans. "Shit, I totally forgot about
that."

"I didn't."

"What now, Bug-Nut? Did Preston leave a message or
something?"

"Nope."

"Any ideas?"

I slap the box closed and slide it into my pocket. I'm
done waiting for things to just shift in my favor. Time to do some shoving.

"Let's go, Jade. I'll inject it when we're in Erano,
and hope it lasts long enough to get me through the filters." I open the
main door, and the roar of hundreds of machines and people swallows us.

-

We find seats on a cargo train, doing our best to blend in
with the natives. All the way to Erano I can feel the box hang heavy in my
pocket. That synet won't last longer than five minutes. The sentinels will
realize something's wrong if it malfunctions. Or if I start twitching and
foaming at the mouth. But I have no choice.

San Gabriel's brown, permafrosted landscape whooshes past
the wagon's window-strip. I begin to count the meteorite craters as we rush
past, but I can't keep my focus.

The speakers announce our imminent arrival at Erano's
cargo gate. I pull out the box, take the injector and slide it into my pocket.
I tuck the empty box under the bench.

We get off the train with the mass of debarking people and
file into a queue heading for the intercity train station. I stare at the
numerous message boards, hoping to figure out which train we have to take
before we draw the sentinels' attention. I can't decipher any of them without a
synet, though, and have to rely on Jade.

People keep pushing against me, cutting in front of me,
breathing in my face. It's increasingly hard to keep a clear head. There's at
least a dozen Ticks patrolling the crowd, occasionally checking synet tags on
their handhelds. I look at the weapons strapped to their backs and my palms
start itching again.

Jade pulls me gently to the right, out of the way of a
passing sentinel. He guides and nudges me into another queue. He tries to smile
reassuringly, but he looks tired and scared as he maneuvers us through the
filter. I realize the danger I'm putting him in and I want to say something,
but I don't know what.

Luckily Jade manages to get us on the right Maglev train
heading to the entrance into D2. As it speeds between buildings we keep
switching wagons, sitting here and there, avoiding the staff. Erano flows past
us in smudged grays and blacks, sprinkled with jagged skyscrapers.

The train slows as it approaches a curved wall with a
large platform at its base, overshadowed by an enormous Rebreather. We stop and
the Maglev tilts toward the platform, hundreds of people pouring out like a
mudslide.

I reach for Jade's hand in the chaos, but miss him by an
inch. Someone shoves me aside. I stumble over someone else's feet, excuse
myself, and back away toward the wall. Someone gropes me in passing, another
stomps on my toes with a heavy boot. I cuss and turn, and bump into the chest
of an armored sentinel looking right down at me.

I back away and someone grabs my shoulders. I turn and
stare up into Jade's eyes. He pretends I pushed him and steps on the feet of
the guy behind him.

"Hey, watch it," the guy scowls.

"Sorry, man."

"Miss?" The sentinel stares at me, scanner at
his side.

Think
!

I run my hands up and down my overall, retrieve the
injector from my pocket and slide it up my sleeve, acting all flustered. I snap
around to face Jade.

"Give it back to me." I grab him by the front of
his overall. "You stole it. Give it back, asshole!"

Jade's eyes widen, understanding my scam. "Hey, I
didn't do anything."

"Liar. You pushed me, and stole my—"

"Did not," he insists.

"Whatever it is, discuss it on your own time,"
the sentinel warns us. "Now get the queue moving. You—come over
here."

"Yeah, move it along," some people behind us
shout. "Get going!"

The back of my neck tingles. My hands prickle painfully
and my pulse is so high I feel like I'm about to explode.

"Miss!" the sentinel barks. "Step over
here, please."

I stare at Jade. The sentinel grabs my shoulder and yanks
me around. He lifts his scanner and aims it at my head.

Fuck
.

In a moment's panic, I grab the device and push his hand
down. He's surprised by my audacity. It takes him a second to react. That's all
I need.

Lightning shoots through my spine and into my arms. My
hands are on fire. Blazing surges run through my fingers and my vision
momentarily blacks out.

I can still see something, but it's not the sentinel or
the crowd around me. It's an explosion of sparks, a hot white cloud of light
that bursts open in my mind. I see a block of red heat throbbing in my hand.
Every circuit and resistance, every molecule of metal and every bouncing
electron in the sentinel's scanner are visible to me. Slow and clear,
brilliantly lit and immensely magnified. Everything's spread out. Predictable.
Controllable
.

The lights spin before me faster and faster until I lose
focus and hit the ground. The impact knocks the air from my chest. My vision
returns in a dizzying blur. Everything hurts.