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“The tracker.
 
On the van,” she said.
 
“They mount them on the underside, in the middle.”

“How—”

“Look, company man,” said Sadie.
 
“Just drive the van.
 
When your father or sister or some other person is taken by the company for re-education, you can think about how you’d find out how to disable their trackers and get them back.”

Haraway looked between the two of them.
 
“Is it gone?”

“Carter thinks so,” said Mason.
 
Something in the air flashed again, much closer this time, the explosion pushing the air aside with a rumble.
 
“She’s just cleaning up.”

Sadie tossed the gun to the floor of the van, watching as it rattled and shook.
 
“What next?”

Mason tipped his head to the side, still looking out the front.
 
“I need to get us lost,” he said.
 
“I know a place.”

The girl behind Sadie spoke.
 
Tough
, thought Sadie.
 
Most people would have freaked in this situation.
 
She turned back to Mason.
 
“How about some food?”

“You’re…
 
You’re hungry?”

“No,” said Sadie.
 
“I want to puke.”
 
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the girl in the back.
 
“She looks like she’s starving though.
 
Like,
actually
starving.”

Mason left one hand on the wheel, helmet turning back to the girl in the back.
 
He turned back to the road, the van slowing down.
 
“Yeah, ok,” he said.
 
“Haraway?”

“What?” said Haraway.

“You’re in charge.
 
Where to?”

“Well…” Haraway looked lost.

“Ok,” said Mason.
 
“Get comfortable in the back.
 
Take Bonus Round back with you.”

“There’s no seats,” said Haraway.

Mason nodded.
 
“See that girl on the floor?”

“Yeah,” said Haraway.

“See her complaining about no seats?”

Haraway closed her mouth and moved towards the back of the van, pushing past Sadie.

Bonus Round
.
 
Sadie smiled again.

“How fucked is he?” said Harry.

“Hard to tell,” said Lace.
 
“Carter says she’s lost him.”

Harry swiveled around, looking at the others in the room.
 
“Really.
 
Carter lost someone.”

“That’s what she said,” said Lace.
 
“It’s hard to know for sure.”

“What?
 
Why?”
 
Harry shook his arm, and a fragment of metal fell from one of the joints.
 
“Carter and you not seeing eye to eye?”

“It’s not like that, Harry,” said Carter, he voice cutting in clear in the link.
 
“Wait a sec.
 
I’ll be right back.”
 
Her icon flicked away.

“That’s what I mean,” said Lace.
 
“She can cut in on us.”

Harry clanked across the hangar, head turning to look left and right at the other operatives gathered there.
 
Twenty guys, give or take.
 
That’s a lot of dollars per hour to have standing here with their dicks in their hands
.
 
“I don’t get it.”

“The link,” said Lace, sounding tired.
 
“It’s just for you and me.”

“Right,” said Harry.

“So how does she talk on it?”

Harry paused, one of his metal toes clanking a quick tap on the floor.
 
“Hell if I know.
 
You asked her?”

“Yeah.”

“What did she say?”

“She laughed.”
 
Lace sighed.
 
“She’s pretty good.
 
It’s like she thinks it’s a game.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well, Harry, I don’t know,” said Lace.
 
“It’s probably a game right up until the link gets jacked, someone hacks your core, and you blow a reactor in the night.”

Harry looked at the platform at the front of the hanger, the Apsel falcon embroidered gold against black on the podium.
 
He looked back around at the others in the room, a soft hum escaping from somewhere in his chassis.
 
“He’s late.”

“Don’t change the subject,” she said.
 
“You want your core to blow?”

“I don’t know,” said Harry, metal hand coming up to the back of his head, old meat memory taking over.
 
He stopped, looking at his hand as the big metal fingers clicked open and closed, then put it back down at his side.
 
“Would it stop your bitching?”

“Your problem is you don’t appreciate artistry.”

“Artistry?
 
So you’ve worked out how Carter hacked the link?”

She sighed.
 
“No.”

“Keep working on it,” he said.
 
“You’ll get it.”

“Yes,” said Lace.

“You’ll keep working on it?”

“Maybe, but not that.
 
Yes, in answer to your earlier question.”

“You know I hate this game, Lace.
 
You change the subject six goddamn times, and get hurt when I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

“You asked,” she said.

Harry replayed their conversation on the overlay, looping back the last thirty seconds.
 
“Technically, I didn’t ask.”

“It was implied.”

“So he’s running late?”

“Is that a question?”

Harry clenched one of his metal fists as Lace’s laugh came down the link.
 
“How late is he?”

“About five minutes.
 
His air car landed a couple minutes ago.”

A door next to the podium opened, and Gairovald Apsel walked through it.
 
Two men in black suits walked with him.
 
Harry’s optics zoomed in on the man, picking out a small flower in his suit’s lapel button hole.
 
“Is that an…
 
It’s an orchid, but tiny.”

“Shhh,” said Lace.
 
“You’ll miss the briefing.
 
He has people.
 
To engineer his flowers.”

“Christ,” said Harry.
 
He stopped shifting, setting the chassis into stillness, a soft whine escaping the back as it parked.

“Good morning,” said Gairovald, his voice coming in audio and over the link at the same time.
 
“I’m sorry about the hour.”

“He looks very handsome,” said Lace.
 
“Better than his photo.
 
He can wake me up at four AM any time.”

Harry ignored her.
 
Gairovald was still speaking.
 
“Earlier this evening, one of our operatives attempted to recover lost Federate intellectual property.
 
This IP was stolen from us by a senior within the R&D team.”
 
He raised a hand.
 
“A file will be supplied with all the details.”

He cleared his throat, then took a sip of water from the glass on the podium.
 
“It appears, on review of the mission, that our operative was a part of the heist.”

“What?” said Lace.
 
“What did he just say?”

“On your overlays,” said Gairovald, “are the details of the two people in question.
 
Jennifer Haraway, recently head of Atomic Energy, and Mason Floyd, one of our senior Specialist Services agents.
 
They are to be considered your top priority for recovery.”
 
Gairovald cleared his throat again, then straightened one of his cuffs.
 
“Recovery, or termination.”

“Fuck me,” said Harry.
 
“Fuck me.”

“He didn’t just say that, did he?” said Lace.
 
“What does that even mean?”

“Quiet,” said Carter.
 
“The worst is still to come.”

“The worst?” said Lace, but Carter was gone.

Gairovald walked out from behind the podium, standing on the platform in front of the operatives.
 
Some of them shifted nervously, but most just looked bored.
 
“Harry Fuentes.”

Harry jerked, the chassis coming to life with a sudden low hum.
 
He stepped back a half meter, knocking a chair backwards.
 
The man next to him scrambled away, then looked up at him.

“Watch it, asshole,” said the man.

“Sorry,” said Harry, then turned the PA down as it boomed and echoed across the hanger.
 
He looked back at Gairovald.
 
“Sir.”

“You were on this evening’s mission?”
 
Gairovald was looking at one of his shoes, the shiny black leather a dark mirror.
 
He looked up at Harry.
 
“Mason requested your involvement?”

“I…
 
Sir.
 
Yes.”
 
Harry shuffled, metal feet scraping against the concrete floor.
 
“Sir, what is this about?”

“Don’t worry, Fuentes,” said Gairovald.
 
“You’re not under investigation.”

“I’m not?”

“No,” said Gairovald.
 
“We’ve reviewed the footage, and it looks like you… engaged as instructed.”

“Sir?”

“Floyd went into the structure?”

“
The Hole?
 
Yes, sir.”
 
Harry shifted again, then said, “He went in through the roof.”

Gairovald waved a hand.
 
“We lost contact with his link.
 
Some interference.”

“Yeah,” said Harry.
 
“About that.
 
I lost him for a while too.”

“It looks like he deployed some kind of technology to hide his movements,” said Gairovald.
 
“Carter’s still piecing it together—”

“Carter?”

“As I said, Carter’s still piecing it together.
 
She has a record of a tight burst from Floyd requesting you pull back.
 
The link record is audio only, full of static.”

“Yeah,” said Harry.
 
“I got that instruction.”

A small smile tugged at Gairovald’s face.
 
“We also have your reaction on file.”
 
He took another sip of water, then continued.
 
“We were wondering if we could use your… relationship in some way.”

Harry looked at the men around him, and then back to the platform.
 
“I’m not sure I follow.
 
Sir.”

Gairovald nodded, then gestured with his hand.
 
“The rest of you can go.
 
You have your mission.
 
Find Haraway.
 
Find Floyd.
 
Remove them from the field, by any means necessary.
 
Fuentes, please stay.”

The operatives filed from the hangar, one or two looking at Harry as they passed him.
 
Harry waited for them to go.
 
“Lace?”

“Yeah.”
 
She sounded worried.

“Can you talk to Carter?”

“Yeah,” she said.
 
The link clicked off, leaving Harry alone with Gairovald and his guards.

“Fuentes?”

“Sir.”

“Fuentes, how well do you know Mason Floyd?”
 
Gairovald stepped down from the platform, walking towards Harry.
 
His guards followed, a few steps behind.

“I don’t know,” said Harry.
 
“I don’t play poker with him.”

“Are you friends?”

Harry screamed and screamed, but no sound came out.
 
His lungs were full of fire, the lattice thrashing and flailing against the wheel.
 
The door ripped open, and a man’s hand reached in to grab what was left of his —

“Not really,” said Harry.
 
“I shot him once.”

“I know,” said Gairovald.
 
“For all that, he saved your life.”

He felt himself rolled, God oh God the pain.
 
The cold wet of the rain washing over what was left of his body.
 
Something on his legs cracked and flaked away, and he kept trying to scream, one hand reaching out —

“I guess,” said Harry.
 
He looked down at the chassis.
 
“Yeah.”

“I think he chose you for this mission, Harry, because you wouldn’t ask questions,” said Gairovald.
 
“I think he played you.”

“Sir?”

“He picked the one man as backup who wouldn’t second guess him.
 
The one man who
owed him
.”
 
Gairovald started to walk around Harry, and Harry swiveled his chassis to follow.
 
“Do you think that’s fair?”

“It might be,” said Harry.
 
“Mason’s a bit of an asshole.”

That smile quirked Gairovald’s lips again.
 
“Yes, yes I think he might be.”
 
He continued to walk around Harry, looking him up and down.
 
“How is the chassis?”

Harry paused, surprised at the question.
 
“It’s…”

“Tell him it’s amazing,” said Lace.
 
Her voice was hard.
 
“Don’t think, just say it.”

“It’s amazing,” said Harry.

Gairovald nodded.
 
“We did the best we could with you, Fuentes.
 
There wasn’t much left to work with.
 
Not after Floyd…
 
Recovered you.”

Harry stopped swiveling the chassis, leaving Gairovald to walk behind him.
 
“Recovered.
 
There’s a word.”