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“That’s what he did, though.
 
After his handler sold us out.
 
We reviewed it, of course.
 
It wasn’t clear whether he should have guessed his handler was a thief, so we let it slide.
 
Once.”
 
Gairovald walked around into Harry’s field of vision again.
 
“Not a second time.
 
Do you understand?”

“Say you understand,” said Lace.

“I understand,” said Harry.
 
“I…
 
I appreciate the opportunity, sir.”

“To help with Floyd?”

“No, sir.”
 
Harry’s hands clicked as they opened, and he gestured at himself.
 
“For the second chance.
 
For the conversion.
 
I…”

“Yes?”
 
Gairovald was looking up at him, face blank.

“Mason brought me back, but the Federate put me back together.”

“Nice,” said Lace.

Gairovald smiled.
 
“Of course, Fuentes.
 
You were — still are — an excellent asset.
 
We look after our own.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Gairovald waved his hand.
 
“Think nothing of it.
 
You’ve more than repaid the investment.”

“Sir?”

“Yes, Fuentes.”

“What is it you want me to do?”

“Floyd will contact you.”
 
Gairovald started walking away, leather shoes licking at the concrete floor.
 
He turned, looking back.
 
“When he does, go meet him.
 
Find him.
 
Find him for me, and…”

“I understand, sir.
 
Find him,” and Harry raised his metal hands in front of his optics, clenching and unclenching them, “and remove him from the field.”

Gairovald cocked his head, then smiled.
 
“Exactly.
 
Good morning, Fuentes.”
 
Gairovald left, his guards a double shadow behind.

⚔ ⚛ ⚔

“That was intense,” said Lace.

Harry looked around at the empty hangar.
 
He’d been standing in the middle of the chairs for a couple of minutes, not moving.

“I said,” said Lace, “that was intense.”

“I heard you,” said Harry.
 
“What’s with the audio prompts?”

“Did Gairovald just say you were a great operative?”

“Yeah, I think so,” said Harry.
 
“I’m not sure though.
 
Whole thing was a bit off the chain, you know?”

“What I mean is, you’re basically retarded,” she said.

“What?”

“He was
testing
you, Harry,” she said.
 
She was talking fast.
 
“He was testing you, to find out how deep it went.”

“I—”

“Don’t talk,” she said.
 
“I…”

“I know,” said Harry.
 
“It’s ok.”

“No,” said Lace.
 
“It’s not…
 
I just—”

“Don’t worry,” said Harry.
 
“It’s ok.”

The link was quiet, then she her voice came back, small and still.
 
“He can’t take you too.
 
I won’t have anything left.”

Harry didn’t say anything for a few minutes, clanking across the floor of the hanger.
 
He stopped, looking at the metal of his hand again, the Apsel falcon black on his arm.
 
“Lace?”

“Yes, Harry.”
 
Her voice was clearer.
 
“We’re a good team.
 
Forget I said anything.
 
I’m sorry, look—”

“No one will touch you again.
 
Do you hear me?”
 
He walked towards the hangar door, not looking back.
 
“Not ever.”

He thought she was gone, until she said, almost too soft to hear, “I hear you.”

The forecourt was empty of other vehicles, the pumps standing alone, tin soldiers in a row.
 
A couple of charging stations stood off to the side — one looked broken.
 
Demand for standard fuel types was dropping now that Apsel was shipping reactors for cars.
 
Mason walked from the van, pulling off the helmet.
 
He spat out the taste of roasted chestnut, the shaky fingers of overtime still stuck inside his head.

“She remembers you, you know,” said Carter.

“What?
 
Who?”
 
Mason walked towards the front of the station, one of the lights flickering above the doorway.
 
The rain howled around the forecourt, the canopy above him keeping the sting of it away.

“The illegal,” she said.

“The illegal?”

“You know her,” said Carter.
 
“Black lipstick.”

“Oh,” said Mason.
 
“Bonus Round.
 
Yeah, I got that.”

“She’s not your type,” said Carter.
 
“Right?
 
Because if she is, you’ll fuck up the mission.
 
Say it.”

Mason nodded to himself, then ran a hand through his sweat-slick hair.
 
The white of his boots tapped through puddles on the concrete, and he could see his reflection stretched out in the water in front of him.
 
“Sure,” he said.
 
“Say, Carter.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s my type?”
 
Mason put a hand on the door of the station, pausing to look through the glass.
 
One man, behind the counter.
 
Two, in the aisles.
 
He sighed, then pushed his way through into stale, tired air.

“We’re not having this conversation,” she said.
 
“Where are you taking the payload?”

Mason stopped in his tracks, standing between the checkout and the aisles of the station.
 
The two men in the aisles looked up at him, then looked away.
 
“What do you mean, where am I taking them?
 
Back to HQ.
 
Where else?”

“That’s not a good idea,” said Carter.
 
“You’re compromised.”

“I’m…
 
Wait a second,” said Mason.
 
He walked up to the man behind the counter, dropping a quick smile.
 
The man was a little older, grey showing through his uneven shave.
 
“Hey.”

“Hey,” said the attendant.
 
The man looked at Mason’s armor, taking in the subs at his belt.
 
“Help you?”

“Maybe,” said Mason.
 
“I need…
 
Lemme see.
 
You got any language packs?”

“Sure,” said the attendant, looking at the Apsel falcon on Mason’s armor.
 
“English?
 
Or German, maybe?”
 
He coughed, a wet sound, then pointed with his chin.
 
“Back there.
 
Next to the sodas and road beers.”

Mason nodded his thanks, then moved back through the store.
 
He snagged a basket, carrying it in his left hand, tossing the helmet inside.
 
The rubber soles of his armor squeaked across the tired linoleum of the floor.
 
“What do you mean, ‘compromised?’”

“So, that,” said Carter.
 
“It’s a bit crazy up here.”

“Right,” said Mason.
 
“The mission—”

“It’s not the mission,” said Carter.
 
“It’s…
 
Ok, it’s the mission.
 
Sort of.
 
This evening, there may have been violations of the Syndicate Compact.”

Mason frowned.
 
He paused in the aisle, looking around.
 
“Where the hell…
 
Oh, here they are.”
 
He found the language packs hanging on an old wire frame, the Reed logo in the top corner.
 
“You reckon the kid is more into strawberry or chocolate?”

“Does it even taste like strawberry?”

“You’re right,” said Mason.
 
“Chocolate.”
 
He grabbed one of the packs from the shelf, flipping it over to check the back.
 
“English…
 
Right.”

“Don’t forget the mix,” said Carter.

“This is why I hate shopping with women,” said Mason.
 
“You saw back there?
 
At the bar?
 
Guys with guns, right?”

“Yeah,” said Carter.
 
“I saw.”

“You saw me shut the room down.
 
That was me, right?”

“That was you, Mason,” she said.

“So I’m okay managing to shut down a room full of assholes, but you don’t trust me to go shopping by myself?”

“Of course not,” said Carter.
 
“You’re a man.”

Mason sighed, then walked past the two men still in the aisle, nodding at them.
 
He made his way to the refrigerator at the back.
 
“You’re going to have to unpick that one for me.”

“It’s not worth the trouble,” said Carter.
 
“So, the compromise I was talking about.”

“Yeah.
 
We didn’t violate the Compact.”
 
Mason looked into the fridge, then grabbed a couple of liter bottles of water.
 
After a brief pause, he pulled out a couple of cans of energy drinks.
 
“It was our IP.”

“Maybe,” said Carter.
 
“That’s not the important part.
 
It’s pretty clear that Reed and Metatech violated the Compact.
 
There’ll be… consequences.”

“Sure,” said Mason.
 
“What’s the problem?”

“You are,” said Carter.

Mason stopped in the aisle, looking at the attendant behind the counter, then at the two men.
 
“I’m the problem?”

“You have a history, Mason.”

“I was cleared.”

“It’s still a history,” she said.
 
“Gairovald’s reviewed the ops footage.”

“So?”

“Try and look at it from his perspective,” she said.
 
“He sent you out to kill a thief.”

“With you so far.”
 
Mason looked into the basket, then cast an eye around the store.
 
“You think we need food?”

“Almost certainly,” said Carter.
 
“The thing is, he sent you to kill a thief, and no thief was killed.
 
He changed the mission parameters to support Haraway.
 
He thinks you’re going to bring back new assets—”

“The girl.”
 
Mason frowned.
 
“And a boy.
 
And a…
 
A man.”

“—but that came after, and you’ve only got
one
.
 
What he’s got is a lot of footage of an op gone bad, damage to company assets.
 
Here’s the important part, though.”

“I’m listening.”

“You didn’t kill a thief.”
 
Carter paused.
 
“Are you hearing me?”

“There wasn’t a thief to kill,” said Mason.
 
“There was just Haraway.
 
There under Gairovald’s orders.”

“Right,” said Carter.
 
“Where’d the device come from?”

“Uh.”

“Haraway’s playing the middle, Mason.
 
She’s not the seller.”
 
Carter coughed.
 
“How many Federate operatives were at the scene?”

“Shit.”

“How many, Mason?”

“Two.”
 
He looked into the basket he carried, then started another round of the aisles.
 
What the hell do kids like to eat, anyway?
 
She looked a little anaemic.
 
Protein bars?
 
He found some with a Reed logo that looked safe enough.
 
He tapped the protein bars box, then looked at the language pack in the basket.
 
It felt like a betrayal buying other company products, but it wasn’t like there were options here.
 
He just wished it wasn’t Reed’s product.
 
“Me, and Haraway.”

“And you’re both still breathing,” said Carter.
 
“You need to stay with Haraway.
 
Find the real thief.
 
Don’t blow her cover.”

“Isn’t her cover pretty blown?”

“Not necessarily.
 
Anyone gets that footage, it looks like a grab mission gone wrong.
 
Lawyers will be crawling all over it for years trying to work out who screwed up the worst.
 
The thing is,” said Carter, “right now, that’s you.
 
They’re going to pin the tail on the scapedonkey.”

“Is that even a real thing?”

“I’m getting it squared away.
 
It won’t be a problem, once Gairovald’s cooled down.
 
And once you kill the thief.
 
They’ve got the chair set up for you.
 
If you come in, you’re not going to leave as anything except a brain in a box.
 
Unless you kill the thief.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” said Carter.
 
“I got this end.
 
I’ll square it away.
 
You just find somewhere to hide.”

Mason put the basket on the counter next to the till.
 
The attendant started to ring it up, putting the items into a brown paper bag.
 
Mason reached into a pouch at his belt, pulling out a wad of cash.
 
The attendant’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t say anything.
 
“I think I know a place,” said Mason.