Matthew S. Cox's Blog, page 25

Divergent Fate #49

(Start at the beginning)

Thin green lines traced through Risa’s vision, outlining the most efficient movement patterns for her claws, body, and feet during a theoretical attack. Weapons flickered with red outlines wherever her cybernetic eyes detected them; the particle cannon on the rover wore a crown of a red exclamation point, as did three laser pistols among the riders. The three-dimensional wireframe polygon ran through a dozen permutations, beating like a mutating digital heart. Each iteration of the pathing algorithm came to an identical conclusion: the particle cannon operator had a seven in ten chance of hitting her before she could get to him. Odds dropped to four in ten if she ignored attacks originating from the rest of the gang, but the combat computer’s simulation predicted fatal shots coming in from at least three angles.

If she attacked, she would die.

Risa clenched her fists on the tails of General Everett’s shirt, keeping it down over her thighs. She didn’t shiver as much from the cold as from the unusual feeling of vulnerability. Years spent in vents and underground made it feel good to have walls; out here in the desert, there was nothing to hide behind. Few things scared her like energy weapons since her speedware couldn’t outrun light. Garrison once commented that’s how other people feel about any firearm. His attempt to cheer her up hadn’t worked then, and the memory of it provided no solace now.

The wall of humanity approached her, stopping four feet away. His height left her eye-to-chest. She stared up at his wafting beard, feeling as short as she did the first time she met Garrison, when she was eight. She hated the particle cannon even more. Despite this monster’s size, he wouldn’t work as a body shield. Having him between her and the blast would accomplish only leaving enough mess behind for someone to realize she had once existed. Whether or not that was a better outcome than complete vaporization was debatable.

The man pulled his fingers through his beard and furrowed his eyes. Psionics scared Risa to tears, but at that moment she would have killed to be a telepath. His face was neutral, as if appraising a new motorcycle he considered buying. Her gaze flicked to the anti-vehicle cannon. She had to get close to that gun. Risa tried to convince herself to act meek. She would allow them to kidnap her and hope she could do something before… Nausea rose up in her throat.

“Ya lookin’ a wee bit underdressed ta’ be out ‘ere.”

Confusion mixed with dread turned her attempt to speak into a cute burp. At least, the bikers thought it cute, as they all laughed.

“Wander inta the dust fer a little, uhh… ‘adventure’”―he winked―“or, you alone?”

She stared. Any answer would be wrong. A lie about armed men waiting for her ‘just over the next dune’ would never work. It would also make them doubt everything she said from then on. Admitting she was alone would be like begging them to kidnap her. Her toes had gone numb; another hour out here could do permanent damage. It made her sick to think about what these men would do to her, but she had no other ideas.

“I’m alone.”

He squinted over her head, scanning the horizon. “Come on, ain’t leavin you out here like that. We ain’ got no spare suits yer size, but we kin get ya to Eebo’s.”

For no reason Risa could fathom, she held still as the huge man scooped her up like a child and carried her to the particle cannon buggy. She tensed, waiting for the collar, the rope, or the cage, but the man behind the gun made no move. He looked like he weighed less than she did, six foot and change, gangly. The spray of charcoal grey hair exploding from his head would’ve made her laugh if she were not wound so tight.

She clamped down on the shirt, keeping it from exposing anything vital as he hefted her over the rover’s sidewall and lowered her into a small cargo space behind the two front seats. He set her down sitting on a cube-shaped crate about as comfortable as sitting on an ice cube. The plastisteel hull came up to her chin on both sides, though she couldn’t decide if she felt protected or caged. Bolts on the floor hinted at where a rear bench seat had been removed, making room for a number of metal boxes and cargo nets full of supplies.

She looked up at the particle cannon. The skinny man behind it waved at her. From tip to handle, the mechanism was longer than her height and about as big around as her thigh. Thin metal hoses seeping mist supplied cooling fluid, likely Cryomil based on the biting aluminum smell, to various components. She wondered what genius decided to cool an energy weapon with something so prone to exploding.

That’s gotta be a jury rig. No one in their right mind would use that shit to cool a―

A wad of dense, soft material fell on her head.

“Lookn’ aike you’k yooz dat,” said the cannon operator.

She gathered the mass of cloth, which turned out to be a blanket, from her head and wrapped herself in it without hesitation. It stank like grease and machinery, but she was beyond caring. The huge biker’s face hovered over the side of the chamber, his look gone from appraising to friendly.

“We’ll be there in ‘bout twenty.” He patted the hull twice. “Holler up ta Styx if you need anything.”

Risa managed an ill-aimed nod while trying to get her feet inside a forming blanket cocoon. Shock at being treated like a rescued traveler rather than a kidnap victim left her brain operating two clicks above caveman. It was the last thing she expected from a crew as rough as these men looked. She huddled in the coarse, grey blanket, grateful to have it between her ass and the cold metal. Sensation crept back into her toes as she scooted her feet back and forth over the fabric to generate heat.

Low, droning whirring came from somewhere ahead. She couldn’t see a damn thing but the back of seats and a faux-leather head cap on the driver in the right side seat. The side of his cap changed color as the holographic Navcon display cycled through screens. A few seconds later, the rover lurched forward. She shifted with the rest of the cargo, and snuggled tighter. The taste of metal entered her mouth when she covered half her face and breathed through the synthetic wool.

“Ey,” said Styx.

She looked up again. The skeletal-thin man had his goggles down; individual round lenses had a coppery tint. A strange pattern recalling the image of ancient coins was silkscreened onto the glass. He reached a spindly arm down, holding an eight-inch Mars-red plastic pouch between two fingers.

“Take et. Is a chem-cal heater.” After she accepted the offering, he made a crushing gesture with both hands. “Squeeza shit outta it ta get it goin, ‘an shake it.”

Her hand drew the precious packet into the blanket. She held it against her chest and twisted it in a two-handed grip until she felt an ampule inside burst. A few seconds after she shook it, the packet gave off heat. Risa wanted to hug it to her gut, stand on it, and sit on it all at the same time. She wound up sliding off the crate and sitting on the floor cross-legged, with only her eyes and a bit of nose peering out of the blanket.

Styx attempted to make pleasant conversation, with a surprising range of intelligence given his broken language. Risa returned polite nods at his boasting of killing seven men with one trigger pull from his ‘baby.’ Before long, the rocking motion of the buggy coupled with the warm softness surrounding her reduced his words to a smear of sound.

*  *  *

Faint mechanical thrumming permeated the silence, drawing Risa’s mind back from sleep. She curled on her side, surrounded by softness and warmth. Minutes passed; she didn’t want to move. Metal clanks grew louder, approaching from her head before growing faint in the other direction; the sound of heavy boots on a plastisteel floor. When she opened her eyes, she found herself in a chamber a touch larger than a coffin. Plastisteel walls glowed with soft orange light from the Comforgel pad under her.

The riders’ blanket was still around her, as was the shirt. In the tight space, it left the air tasting like metal and grease. Of the two long walls in the chamber, the one she faced had a basic set of controls―physical buttons rather than holo-terminal―for the Comforgel heat as well as air filtration. Behind her, the long wall was plain and smooth except for a central handle with a squeeze lever.

Dull points of pain stabbed at the bottoms of her feet, as though someone had left acupuncture needles in. She curled tighter, rubbing her soles for a few minutes, milking another excuse not to get up. At the realization no amount of massaging would chase away the phantoms of a thousand sharp rocks, she stretched and sat up. The low ceiling left her head tilted sideways at an uncomfortable angle.

Tapping on the small square panel to her left grew into thumping. A woman’s moans joined a man’s grunts. Risa slipped a hand out of the cocoon and rubbed her face. Like the layers of an onion peeling back, the previous day revealed itself to her consciousness. Great hunger dimmed as the reality of her close call with execution punched her in the gut. Some of the MLF guys told her a sob story about her childhood might get her life imprisonment instead, but it wasn’t an outcome to bank on. She tuned out the amorous couple in the next bunk while trying to figure out her next move.

“Eebo’s” must be some manner of hotel. The super-economy bedding made sense for a drop box building out in the middle of nowhere, possibly by the millipede track. That made no sense. Millipedes couldn’t leave their special routes. If the driver stopped for the night, he’d block the road. No, those things were self-contained. Those men must have gotten off the road, which means she could be anywhere.

She waited for the banging to stop, and waited longer until the sound of people getting out of the adjacent chamber and walking away faded to silence. A light squeeze on the handle popped the hatch, which hissed open like an awning, propped up on thin hydraulic struts. Stuffy air laced with the smell of frying food and dust rushed into the formerly comfortable sleeping pod. Similar doors covered the opposite wall, five high. To the left, six more stacks lined both sides of a narrow walkway ending at a door. Two more stacks of bunks were on her right. The hallway in that direction ended at a dirtier metal door spray painted with “piss here not in the beds.”

The smell hit her as soon as she processed the meaning of the words.

She wanted nothing to do with that bathroom without a full e-suit, much less a lack of shoes. After arranging the blanket into a more modest garment than a man’s dress shirt, she lowered herself out of the third-tier bunk, cast a longing glance at the now eye-level Comforgel pad, and made her way to the not-bathroom door.

A flexible corridor made of segmented black plastic and floored with metal grating connected to a matching door six feet away. Crackles and clicks flooded the little hallway, no doubt from windblown sand and small rocks striking the outside. The sleeping section was a separate pod building. She gritted her teeth and skipped over the freezing metal grid, gasping and hissing.

Eebo’s, as indicated by a huge swath of white spray-painted letters over a bar, had the look of the kind of watering hole frequented by the sort of men given to rove in packs through the Martian desert and do unseemly things to solitary, defenseless women. Granted, those same roving thugs had proved themselves rather different than her initial expectation.

Seven round tables to the right were empty except for a couple in scratched-up black armor so close she couldn’t tell who was in whose lap. The only thing keeping them from fucking on that table is the armor they’re wearing. A bar, staffed by a man who could’ve been the grandpa of the huge biker, took up most of the long wall opposite a door leading outside. A small window, square with rounded corners, looked out over endless red dust, and no sign of a millipede road. In the far right corner, a roll top door hung over a thick bullet-resistant window where a black-haired woman looked bored out of her mind. She looked older than Risa, but not enough to feel motherly. Her disinterested gaze was a perfect match for the hardened world-weary quality seeping out from dark stains all over her tan jumpsuit.

Risa moved away from the face sucking pair, ignoring her hunger as well as her gait-altering need to use the bathroom. That would come next, provided the woman in the window had some manner of shoes for sale. If not, she’d go outside. Publicity seemed a welcome alternative to stepping in whatever coated the floor in there. The bored woman gave her an ‘oh, you poor thing’ look, which nudged Risa’s mood further into the toilet.

“What’cha need, sweetie?”

A weak reflection in the two-inch thick barrier confirmed she did not look like a child, though grandpa would probably ask her for ID if she wanted booze. Risa ignored the condescending tone, and raised an eyebrow at three projectiles trapped inside the barrier―two of them pointed out.

“Got any clothes? Boots?”

The woman laughed. The kind of laughter one usually gets from the waiter when ordering fish in a steakhouse. “Well, I suppose… Most people don’t come here for fashion.” She waved at a wall rack full of guns, blades, and various blocks of ammunition. “Let me see what I got. Open that blanket up a bit so I can get a size of ya.”

Risa obliged. The woman frowned at the shirt.

“Some bastard used you and left, huh? Enlisted or officer?”

“Uhh. I dunno.” Risa blushed. As embarrassing as it was, the convenient lie would trigger less questions. “Something like that.”

The woman’s face reddened; she slammed her fist on the counter, causing a glass and several bullets to jump. “Sons of bitches. Are you okay, girl? Did he hurt you? I bet it was an officer. Damn bastards think they can do whatever they want to the settlers out here away from the big cities.”

The face-sucking couple paused to stare at them.

“Oh… no. I, uhh, couldn’t do it.” She looked down, fidgeting. It was embarrassing, but Risa had long ago learned the currency exchange associated with acting pathetic. “He got mad and kicked me out. Stole my clothes. Some gang found me and… I guess left me here.”

“Oh, that wasn’t no gang.” The woman stuffed a baggy dark blue jumpsuit through the hole in the glass before ducking out of sight. A thunk came from a metal hatch below the counter a few seconds before a motorized drawer slid open with a pair of boots in it. “Howl and his boys are bounty hunters, sometimes mercenary escorts for trade runs. Try those on.”

Risa pinned her thighs together and bounced from need. “I left my ‘mini behind in Arcadia…”

“Don’t sweat it, hon. He left enough for your room and somethin’ to eat. If you skate, I’ll guilt him into covering it.” The woman gestured at the boots. “Go on, you look like you’re about to burst. Take care o’ that, and my dad’ll see about getting you fed.”

“Thanks.” She grabbed them and the jumpsuit. “You got a VidPhone? I need to call someone.”

Divergent Fate #48

(Start at the beginning)

Crunching boots moved past the end of the transport. Risa lowered her crouch, hoping her bare feet could find enough traction on the unadorned plastisteel floor to launch her into the MPs before they realized she’d gotten loose. Her claws caught the overhead glare, glowing as if made of pale-blue shards of solid light. She couldn’t stop shivering, but despite the cold, runaway sweat beads conjured worries of crawling bugs.

Beep beep.

She stalled her breathing, imagining one of the MPs punching in a code to open the back door. They had stopped out in the middle of nowhere for a reason, and the more she thought about what these two wanted to do to her, the less she hesitated. In her mind, the door slipped open and she dove into the shaft of sunlight. Her left hand would seek the throat of the closer MP. Based on the sound of their motion, the other would be on her right. She’d amp her legs and jump clean over them into a flip to disorient them. She’d land behind them, striking with both hands before they’d get their gun out.

Thud, thud. An armored fist pounded on the wall.

Her fingers tensed.

“Do honorem Marti, ad ei inimici dabo ira mea.” The female MP’s voice crackled from a crappy speaker somewhere inside the ceiling.

Risa’s jaw fell open. What the fuck? Tension in her muscles conspired with the cold to accelerate her shivering.

The male MP cleared his throat. “Ab umbris vigilemus donec exiguntur.”

“Et vae qui minentur, nam prævaleamus,” whispered Risa, backing away from the door.

“We’re on your side,” said the woman.

Three more beeps chirped out and the doors parted. Risa’s leg twitched, but she didn’t pounce. Two figures in Mars-red camouflage armor stood in front of a panorama of dry, dusty rock fields. Round-bottomed wheel ruts trailed off into the horizon in a gradual rightward arc. Overhead, a mass of dark blue sky rolled and swirled with a brighter patch as if two colossal blob-creatures battled for the sky. Terraforming had done a lot to mitigate the inhospitable chill of pre-Human Mars. The settled areas were longer prone to eighty below in the winter, but it was only about fifty degrees now in the summer. With only a man’s dress shirt on, she found her teeth chattering from the blast of outside air.

“Come on.” The female MP waved her over. “We don’t have a lot of time before we’re missed.”

Risa glared at her.

“Sorry about the shirt, I was acting the part. I was counting on Everett not letting me do it.”

It occurred to Risa her hesitation was born not out of fear, but out of disappointment for losing her reason to kill this woman. She let her claws slide back into her fingers. If the military had discovered the oath of the Pueri Verum Martis, there would be far larger problems than anything they could do to Risa out here in the middle of nowhere. She scooted to the edge and let them help her to ground.

“What if he didn’t?” She tried to hug warmth into her chest.

“Then I would’ve objected,” said the male MP.

The rocky dirt was warmer than the prisoner transport floor, but not by much. She stuck her hands under her arms, still shivering. Inside, she jumped and cried out at the thunk of the doors closing behind her, but she showed no outward reaction.

A status display created by Risa’s eyes claimed the air was sixty-two degrees. She didn’t believe it. “So, what now?”

“Now,” said the woman, “we drive back to base and act surprised when we discover you are gone.”

“We do have a minute since we’d budgeted time to take the binders off.” The man shook his head at the broken cuffs and pushed the other door closed. “How’d you manage that?”

“Help from an angel,” she said.

The MPs exchanged a glance and walked around the transport, one per side.

“Hey, you’re not just going to leave me out here like this? This shirt isn’t much better than naked.”

“You’re welcome to come to base with us, but I doubt you’d want that,” said the woman.

“But…” Risa looked down at herself. “How about a canteen or some shoes or some damn pants? If I walk into an atmospheric gap, I’m dead.”

“Pants won’t help that.” The man pointed to the right, compared to the way the transport faced. “Closest civilization is that way. Don’t follow us or backtrack our trail. I…” He offered a sympathetic frown. “If we give you anything, we won’t be able to explain away our missing equipment with not having noticed you escape. Besides, you’re not out in the middle of the desert. Civilization is close.”

“I wish we could do more,” said the woman. “But we have to keep our cover intact, too.”

The MPs climbed up the boarding ladders to the cab doors.

Risa followed the woman around to the driver’s side, cringing from the occasional pointy stone underfoot. “I’m not above wearing borrowed underwear.”

The MP seemed to consider it for a few seconds, but shook her head when she checked her forearm guard. “Can’t. This armor’s not easy to get out of; there’s not enough time. We’re already going to have to lean on it not to arouse suspicion.”

“Whatever,” mumbled Risa.

She turned away from the dust cloud as the transport rumbled off into the distance, moving in a gradual leftward arc. The prospect of a safe ride, even if it was a cage leading to execution, was almost welcome in comparison to being stranded in the Martian wastes with nothing but a polyester button-down shirt. A moment of dark whimsy brought a smile. This was more than she had in the vents, and she’d managed. If the curved trail of the transport was an enormous longbow, she went in the direction the arrow would fly.

Some rocks were easy to avoid, anything the size of an egg or larger. Others, often the nasty, pointy ones, had the annoying habit of being half-buried. Every few minutes she’d stumble and cry out as her unprotected feet found pain lurking in the silt. Her toes went numb within minutes, and the steady vibration of her chattering teeth faded out of conscious awareness.

Vast open nothingness went in every direction, though the sky held a mixture of swirling blues as well as a distant whorl of black starscape. With no one around to see her, she surrendered her battle with the gusty wind whenever it blew the shirt in indecent ways. That was effort better spent on studying the ground and exhaling heat through her icicle fingers.

Risa walked as if navigating a field of land mines for what felt like hours. Twice she’d wound up crumpling to the ground and cradling her foot, praying to Raziel that whatever she’d just stepped on hadn’t broken skin. The ground was as unkind to her backside as it was to her soles, but the third time a sharp rock brought her down, she decided to stay there and rest.

“I can’t be too far away from civilization; we’d been driving for less than two hours… I think.” She squinted at the horizon. “I’ve been in worse situations.” She thought back to the BMC mine/prison camp. “At least I’m not trapped by an atmospheric dead zone and surrounded by corporate slavers.”

She slouched forward, running a hand through her hair. Her feet had gone up to the ankle in the soft dirt. Whorls of red dust gathered and spiraled around her legs in the breeze. The close brush with institutionalized death triggered a fit of nervous laughter. After a minute, she went from giggling to staring mute at where her legs disappeared into the ground. Her father was a spy working for the worst of the two powers. She debated between the UCF and ACC in terms of morality. With the ACC, the corporations made no secret of their ways. They offered no illusions they considered their citizens anything other than serfs in service of the board of directors. The UCF wrapped itself in the pageantry of the nation it once was. They claimed democracy while in reality they were every bit a police state as the ACC. Risa frowned.

The suits got half the universe, and the politicians the other.

Granted, no one could argue citizens lived better in the United Coalition Front territories. Mars was a far cry from how things were on Earth. Earth-UCF was supposedly nice. Mars-UCF, as Garrison had once explained, was like a state of permanent martial law with the additional threat of random attack from ACC forces. At least the UCF’s illusion of rights offered the people somewhat of a cushion. No one there had ever been shot for failing to meet work quotas or refusing to sleep with a soldier. Maybe the Front wasn’t necessary. Maybe the UCF wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe a citizen’s life with Pavo would make her happy?

“Maybe I’m getting delirious from dehydration.”

Her inner political debate ground to a halt with more practical thoughts of her lack of water, clothing, and shelter. Arcadia city was at the center of one of the older terraformed atmosphere “bubbles” that acted like a greenhouse. Knowing she was not more than ten miles away from civilization didn’t make her feel much better. This “escape” could easily stumble across another military patrol, and these probably wouldn’t be PVM.

Risa squinted, a flare of anger exploded into giddy laughter. “Dammit Raziel, you sent them, didn’t you? This whole thing was…” She let her head sag forward, both hands raking fingers through her dirty hair. “Some kind of giant ‘I-told-you-so.’”

A distant rumble made her snap her gaze to the side. An orb of bright white light tracked from left to right, leading a series of glinting segments. From this distance, it resembled a huge metal snake gliding through a cloud of dust. Risa knew it was a Millipede, an inter-city cargo transport vehicle halfway between truck and train. Those transports had dozens of tiny wheels and ran on the closest thing Mars had to roads. The idea of not stepping on pain every four paces got her to her feet.

The idea of walking on smooth, comfortable metal accelerated her pace to a careless jog―until her foot found another hidden dagger. She fell into a somersault and bounded right back up, slowing a bit to avoid a repeat.

Soon, the glorious sight of a ribbon of silver upon the dull red ground came into view. She rushed for it with barely exercised restraint. The Millipede was long gone by the time she reached the edge of the road, only ozone-flavored air from its huge batteries lingered. Metal came up to her waist at the edge, where she draped herself over the side as if hugging the thing. The wall was flat for two feet before it beveled inward at a forty-five degree angle to a one-foot wide top. Risa climbed over the side and hopped down to the driving surface. Each edge formed a retaining wall that came up to her thigh, liberally scratched and gouged by the inattentiveness of long-haul drivers.

Traction coating sprayed on the plastisteel road was like walking on a foot massage. Tiny nuggets of hard rubbery material embedded in softer material provided something for tires to grip. Plain metal had proved to be too slippery. With the beautiful texture under her feet, she found a second wind. She stayed close to one side so she would have time to dive away in the event another Millipede came by. The drivers were notorious for falling asleep at the controls, and she was not at all confident one would stop in time not to run her down.

Boring sameness passed on either side: red silt, rocks, and the occasional silt dune. At least with a roadway under her, she no longer needed to watch the sky to keep course or stare at the ground to avoid pointy stones. Her body told her it should be sleeping now, but it was a futile message. Too much adrenaline from her near miss coursed through her. Even if she were not lost and alone in the middle of who-knows-where, there would be no sleep for some time.

A gust of wind bared her ass to the world. She thought about tugging down the shirt, but lacked the motivation. Not like there’s anyone here to see me.

Odd thrumming emanated from the metal road. At first, she didn’t know what she was hearing, but as the sense of vibration reached her feet, she understood her augmented ears let her detect the sound of approaching vehicles in the metal. She shoved the shirt down and held it in place, whirling about as the deep whirr of electric motors grew loud enough for normal ears.

Four squat, wide e-bikes, patched together from a mish-mash of random parts, preceded two four-wheeled rovers. The rovers looked like something used by early explorers on an uncharted planet. The wheels were five feet tall and narrow, its main body hung suspended like a pod in a frame of metal tubes, giving the vehicle a broad footprint. Both rovers appeared quite far removed from simple exploration vehicles, modified with crude armor plates as well as emplacement weaponry. One seemed to have a pair of ballistic machineguns too big for a man to carry mounted on a motorized swivel ring. The other had a particle cannon intended to destroy light armored vehicles. It was a touch smaller than the ballistic weapon, but much more dangerous.

The divers, all men, wore a mixture of black nylon, imitation leather, and scavenged protective gear. Some of the armor had UCF colors, some ACC, and others looked like chunks of Cydonian crab shell. The skinny ones operating the mounted weapons had goggle-eyed respirator masks. Several riders had hair done up in wild colors and styles, and at least two were bald.

Risa surveyed them from left to right. Four bikes, two with a second axe-wielding passenger. Two rovers, each had a crew of three.

Twelve men stared at a barely-dressed Risa. Gunners stood up on tiptoe to get a better look. Guys on the bikes leaned on the handlebars, leering. The closest, a burly armored figure at least three hundred pounds, nudged his e-bike away from the group and stopped ten feet away from her. The side panels of the front wheel hub were molded in the shape of skulls, eye sockets aglow from the drive system within.

Five handguns adorned his vest in various improvised holsters, and scabbards affixed to the bike held three swords. His copious beard frizzed in multiple directions, looking as though whoever tried to braid it was stumbling drunk when they did so. A tattoo of a tribal bird on his bald scalp wrinkled into ridges as he grinned at her, displaying several missing teeth. A crude emergency respirator mask dangled from the left handlebar.

Risa felt tiny, exposed, under-armed, and much like a mouse watched by twelve eagles.

She tried to pull the tails of her borrowed shirt down to her knees. To pop claws, she’d have to let go of the shirt. If she let go of the shirt, the wind would expose her. Risa stared at him, waiting for him to make the first move. She tensed, ready to engage her speedware the instant he went for a gun.

“Well look at that,” said the biker.

Risa squeezed her fists tight. To have a chance, she’d have to act complacent in order to get close enough to the particle cannon operator. Her speedware wouldn’t help her dodge a projectile moving at the speed of light. She felt silly for feeling embarrassment.

None of these men would live long enough to enjoy the view.

Divergent Fate #47

 

(Start from the beginning here)

Risa slouched forward, too consumed by apathy to grimace at her intolerable seat. The conversion of the small, armored military cargo van into a prisoner transport consisted of the addition of benches along the walls and the removal of door handles. If not for the harsh lights embedded in the ceiling of the vault-like space, she would be in total darkness. Rumbling, mechanical vibration droned through the walls. She pictured the cluster of four fat, squat wheels chewing up rocks while the larger steering tires in front left deep gouges in the soil. Each time the terrain slammed her back against the wall, a tiny stirring of resentment tried to drag itself out from under her crushing sadness.

Every so often, the piercing laugh of the female MP made it through the two-inch thick barrier separating her from the driver’s compartment. They were undoubtedly celebrating. Capturing the infamous Risa Black. Whatever. I don’t care.

Her teeth chattered. General Everett’s shirt had ridden up when the MPs dumped her unceremoniously in the back, leaving her bare ass in contact with a freezing, pathetic excuse for padding.

Even after pulling the thin fabric between her and the punishing seat, the cold remained. Her body twisted with a subconscious reaction to the temperature; the air-conditioning carried a faint metallic flavor reminiscent of licking Martian dirt. Binders on her wrists and ankles clinked and rattled as she shivered. She closed her eyes, but the red letters remained, flickering at the lower limit of her vision: “Security Override”

The Medusa plugged into her head forced her Neural Interface Unit offline, breaking the connection between cybernetic implants and brain. It allowed “components vital for life” to continue to work, but Risa had been fortunate enough not to have sustained injuries bad enough to require one of those. Heart, liver, kidneys… all of those were still hers. Thoughts of vital organs turned to sadness as she stared into her lap. Hatred of this war and the life fate had thrust upon her wrapped itself around a daydream of how things could have been.

Would I even want to bring a child into this awful world?

She grumbled in her mind, cursing the fickle chance that it had been Garrison to find her in the vents. Risa knew she’d looked seven shades of pathetic when he had found her. Anyone with a heart would’ve taken her in, why did it have to be an MLF commander?

A bump in the road bounced her off the bench to the floor. She landed on her side, barely managing to keep her chin up and not smack it into the metal. Freezing air rushed under her borrowed shirt. She gasped, squirming around to sit up and put her back against the partition. She spotted two points to brace her feet to keep from flying all over the place, but the chain kept her legs too close.

They’re driving hard to rough me up. No point climbing onto the seat again.

Memories of her childhood came and went. Each time her father’s face appeared, a bratty version of her eight-year-old voice insisted on calling him Andriy. She drew her knees up, resting her head against her legs. Whatever he was, her father did love her. It wouldn’t be too long before she’d be with him again. She felt the urge to cry coming on, but swallowed it. It didn’t matter anymore what she wanted; her course was set.

“Security Override” faltered for an instant and came back. Risa looked up and around at the walls, as if she had any chance of seeing what caused an EMF spike through solid plastisteel.

That’s not a good frame of mind for you, Risa.

Her body shuddered as Raziel’s presence raced along every nerve. She arched her back, sliding over sideways, pulling her arms apart as far as the cuffs would allow. Shame bloomed; she didn’t want the angel to see her like this.

“I guess I’ll meet you soon,” she gasped, struggling to breathe through convulsions.

Are you in such a rush to die?

The van entered a stiff turn, rolling her face-first into the wall. She reflexively tried to brace her impact, but her arms remained trapped behind her. At the end of the turn, the driver cut the stick hard and she rolled to the other side, upside down against the bench, legs in the air.

“Son of a bitch,” she growled, fighting her way back to kneel. She stared through strands of sweaty hair at the gleaming silver wall, out of breath.

Quiet lasted for several minutes. She shifted to sit, stretching her legs out. The space was too wide for her toes to reach the other wall. Her mind wandered, trying to guess where they were taking her.

Are you done feeling sorry for yourself, Risa? The Front needs you still.

“Garrison lied to me.” She tried to convince herself she was mad at him, but could not help but yearn for him to reach in and pull her out of this mess. “Is that why you didn’t want me tracking down Everett?”

His quick, blunt answer stalled her for a minute. “I’ve been helping the MLF based on a lie.” A mild bump jostled her back and forth. “I’ve thrown my life away over nothing. My father wasn’t fighting for a free Mars; he was trying to help the corporations own it.” Warm, silent tears ran down her cheeks. Her expression did not change.

Does the reason you became part of the Front matter to the people of Mars? To Kree? The struggle is bigger than one girl and her murdered father.

Risa curled into a ball. “Why did Garrison lie? They all knew, didn’t they? You knew. Of course you knew―you’re a damn angel.”

Raziel waited almost a minute to answer. Consider where you are and how you feel right now. I knew the discovery of who your father was would lead you down a path of self-destruction. That serves no one. Not you, not the people of Mars, not your father… and not Pavo.

She mouthed his name without adding voice. How she wanted him to rip down the doors and rescue her. Remembered hands, coarse and hot, slid across her back, cradling and comforting. Risa sobbed.

Andriy Voronin worked to destroy freedom on Mars, but he did love his daughter. Understand how they operate. He was in the military class, a privileged social order. As his daughter, you would have led a comfortable life. He did not think he was harming you.

She shuddered, trying to stop thinking of Pavo, trying to stop crying over her impending death. “It’s all been a lie. I’ve killed people. I’ve planted bombs, murdered, all in the name of lies.”

No, Risa.

A shock of energy rippled through her body, the touch of a divine presence. She fell sideways, pin straight and stiff as a board, as if jolted by a defibrillator. A faint wail escaped her lips.

The deception was for your mental health. Your father did love you. Human greed and the need to control the weak still killed him. Is it not the very war between the UCF and ACC the Front wants to end? You are a soldier with a noble cause, not beholden to politicians, corporations, or greed.

Tension relaxed. Freezing metal embraced her cheek as she curled on her side. As if expecting it to work, she struggled in an effort to snap her restraints. Rattling metal echoed for several minutes and she fell limp, panting, and covered in sweat.

Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?

“Does it matter?”

Are you still ready to help the weak? That child looks up to you.

“Kree,” she whispered. “Raziel, please… don’t let her turn into what I’ve become. Don’t let them do to her what they did to me.”

You are human, Risa. You prove that by the ache in your heart for everything you will lose if you throw your life away. You prove it by how you feel after you take a life.

“I don’t know if this is right anymore. It would have been better to tell me. Garrison had me so charged with anger; the entire Front used my need for revenge. I’m not sure I can keep doing it.”

You used to take risks. You let your anger override your thinking. There is no need for you to throw yourself upon the flames as a martyr.

The transport jerked as if the driver slammed on the brakes. Risa slid tailbone-first into the partition. Sudden acceleration sent her rolling like a log into the rear doors. Spots and blinking fragments of light danced around her head for a moment. The coppery taste of blood lingered in her mouth.

“Son of a… bastards.” She got her hands on the bench strut, trying to hold on. “Was Pavo lied to?”

The whys pale in importance to the goal. Everyone’s path is different. Yours is no less or greater. Your life is yours to surrender, but how will Pavo feel?

She stared at the metal around her ankles. “Little late for that.”

Is it?

Despondence gave way; a spark of hope led to determination. “You’re saying I’m not doomed?”

Have you ever heard the myth of Perseus?

“Sorry, ancient mythology wasn’t exactly an important topic in my fucked up life.”

Perseus was the man who slew the creature Medusa.

She squinted. “So, I’m Perseus now?”

No, Risa, but you have one. Your NIU contains an illegal modification. Underground deck jockeys call it a ‘Perseus.’

Her eyes shot open. “Because it slays…”

As soon as the thought formed in her mind, a faint spark traversed a wire down her arms. She held her hands as far apart as she could. Ten Nano claws popped out. “Security Override” faltered, but continued to float in front of her. A careful twist and flick of her thumb severed the link in the binders and let her bring her arms around front. Once she could see what she was doing, it was a simple matter to slide a claw between wrist and metal and cut them away. After freeing her legs, she got up and paced around in a circle.

“Will this Perseus mod stop the thing from shocking the piss out of me if I try to take it out?”

The shock will happen, but it cannot pass into your NIU. It won’t feel like a thunderbolt to the brain, but it will be unpleasant.

Expecting to lose control of her legs, and possibly her bladder, Risa sat on the thin padded bench and forced a series of rapid, deep breaths. The Medusa device was a small, half-inch square connected to a standard M3 interface prong. It was a well-known fact the person whom it restrained should not touch the outer casing or it would complete a circuit and shock them. The voltage was not immense, though it went straight into the brain. Risa hoped the Perseus worked. She let her fingertips hover around the little plastic square, closed her eyes, clenched her jaw, and pinched.

The shock was far from pleasant, hot tingles ran up and down her neck as though a swarm of angry bees descended upon her. Risa yanked the one-inch plug out; the final spark that leapt from the tip to the socket watered her eyes like a punch to the nose. She fell across the bench on her back, cradling her face in both hands. For a few seconds, she went blind as her cybernetic eyes ran through a diagnostic process. Panic began to take her, but dissipated when the world reappeared without the annoying red warning.

Hard deceleration of the van made her slide towards the front, ass squealing over the cheap cushion. She leapt to her feet and engaged her claws, waving her arms to ‘surf’ the floor as the transport came to a complete stop. No signs of activity came from outside. Perfect stillness made her think they’d stopped in the middle of nowhere. Adrenaline coursed through her. Her mind tormented her with thoughts numerous horrible things the MPs might do to her with no witnesses.

So this is it, huh?

Crouching with blade-fingered hands raised like an angry wildcat, Risa stared at the seam in the back doors, waiting for them to open. With her augmented hearing online, the crunch of boots passing the side of the transport was clear. She plotted three patterns of attack; this time, she would use them. Her eyes narrowed remembering the female MP wanting to take her shirt.

“I hope the bitch comes in first.”

Caller 107 Blog Tour

From July 21st – August 1st, 2014 excluding weekends, a group of wonderful bloggers will host interviews, excerpts, and reviews for Caller 107. We are also doing a Rafflecopter giveaway in which you could win a signed copy, and a $25 Amazon gift card. Curiosity Quills is also hosting a Goodreads giveaway for a paperback copy of Caller 107.

I am grateful for such a huge showing of support and interest, especially since Caller 107 is a departure from my usual genre. While this is my third released title, I am as excited as if it were my first.

-Matt

7/21/14

Diane Riggins at A Creative Mind – Review

Christie Gibrich at Teen Librarian Toolbox – Book Spotlight

07/22/14

Jennifer Melanson at The Cubicle Escapee – Interview

Ann-Marie Beaumont at Darkness Beckons – Excerpt

07/23/14

Matthew Graybosch at A Day Job and a Dream – Excerpt

Mallory Anne-Marie Forbes at Mallory Heart Reviews – Review

Becky at Becky’s Barmy Book Blog – Book Spotlight

07/24/14

Erika at Wonderful Monster – Review

Sarah Cass at Sarah’s StoryLines – Excerpt

07/25/14

Sandra at JeanzBookReadNReview – Interview

Rakib at I Hate Critics – Excerpt

07/28/14

Kevin Craig at Kevin Craig  – Excerpt

James Wymore at James Wymore – Book Spotlight

07/29/14

Elsie Elmore at Elsie Elmore – Interview

Sarit at Coffee Boks & Art – Excerpt

07/30/14

Merisha Abbott at Blissful Book Reviews – Excerpt

Vicki L. Weavil at Vicki Lemp Weavil – Interview

E. M. LaBonte – Interview

Sandra Almazan – Interview

Terri Bruce – Interview

T.W. Fendley – Interview

07/31/14

Katie Teller at Katie’s Stories – Book Spotlight

Charlie Anderson at Girl of 1000 Wonders – Excerpt

08/01/14

Elle Klass at The Troubled Oyster – Excerpt

Amberr Meadows at Like a Bump on a Blog – Review

 

Goodreads Book Giveaway


Caller 107
by Matthew S. Cox

Giveaway ends August 21, 2014.

See the giveaway details

at Goodreads.

Enter to win

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Divergent Fate #46

(Start at the beginning)

Risa froze, her eyes fixed on the glinting tip of a pistol six feet away. The distance coupled with her lying flat on her back all but guaranteed he would have enough time to shoot if she made a move. A brigadier general elbow deep in clandestine operations probably wouldn’t waste his one shot. She held her arms out in a nonthreatening gesture as her claws retracted, and swung her legs over the side. Why hasn’t he just shot me already? Patches of ambient light from gliding advert bots slithered over her milky white skin. She scooted to the edge of the Comforgel pad and stood, keeping her hands up.

General Everett wagged his gun to the side. “Three steps to your left and face the windows.”

She moved as instructed, closing her eyes and watching the wispy grey silhouette of his motion in the blackness. The three-hundred-sixty degree vision used to feel superhuman, but now it was somewhere between second nature and freak. His wraith elongated as if reaching for something to his side before drawing close. Risa tensed, expecting a pistol to the back of the head. She stared at his gun arm, bracing for the attack. A hint of marinara sauce in his breath washed over her, laced with some manner of seafood.

“You surprise me, girl. I thought I’d gotten past this stage of my career.” General Everett chuckled. “You don’t strike me as the assassin type. Too young, too rushed. You hesitated.”

Her jaw tightened. “I’m not an assassin.”

He draped cloth over her shoulders. Out of reflex, she grasped it, sliding her arms into a long-sleeved button down shirt and gathering it closed. The material covered her to mid-thigh. She kept her hands together over her chest, hoping the meek posture would soften him.

“You’re a frightened girl. Are you even eighteen yet? Tell me who put you up to this.”

“No one. Twenty-five. I wanted to understand why you had my father killed, but you weren’t at all the monster I expected to find.” She stared at the dark windows, tracking a spot of light drifting right to left through the sky. “I was there when it happened. The fire is still in my dreams.”

“You made it in here on your own? How did you get through the security downstairs?”

“I was in the building before you arrived. I knew what room you would be in.”

“I didn’t even know what room I’d be in until I got here. How―”

“An angel told me.”

She endured the patronizing whistle of air through his teeth without visible reaction.

“Turn around.”

She did. He stared at her face for a long moment.

“Yes… perhaps you are. You have his eyes.” Everett let out a breath. “I’m sorry for what I had to do. I… We had no idea you were in the apartment. He kept you off the grid. After what happened with your mother, we weren’t sure―”

“I’m not sure I believe you.” Risa stared at the rug, mindful of the general’s position without looking at him. The old man had edged far enough away to get off at least two shots before she could reach him. “What happened to my mother?”

“Andriy killed her when he discovered the truth. You weren’t even two. We’d assumed he killed the pair of you.” Everett seemed past the point of worry, and lowered his weapon. “Her name was Serena Var. She worked for C-Branch, posing as Marissa Donnelly.” Everett set his gun on the desk and activated the complimentary terminal with a wave. A few gestures later, he was logged into the UCF Marine Corps network. Important-looking logo screens flashed by. “She married him as part of her mission. It was a counterintelligence operation intended to pass along bogus intel and keep us appraised of what they know. We’d known Andriy was an infiltrator within a week of his arrival on Mars. We also held on to a small hope of turning him to our side as a double agent.”

Risa padded up behind Everett’s high-backed chair, any thought of attack stalled at the images of her father appearing in hologram above the desk. The terminal’s sleek silver housing gleamed with reflected light. Picture after picture appeared with different clothes, different levels of facial hair. It was obvious he had been under surveillance for years. A woman who could be Risa in ten years hovered at the center of the cluster.

“Agent Donnelly moved too soon. He killed her when he realized she worked for us. We were all surprised when we learned he let you live.”

“He loved me,” she whispered.

The screens cycled through a hundred variations of the man she called Daddy meeting with strangers out in the middle of the Martian desert; many of the strangers wore ACC uniforms. Older versions of him correlated to ACC personnel files: school records, military enlistment, training, medical reports. The files held far too much information available at his fingertips, all collated and ready, too prepared to be an attempt to trick her.

“He was a good father…” Daddy, no. Please tell me these are lies… Did Raziel know? Is this what he didn’t want me to see?

The images swirled together. She sank to her knees, and buried her face in both hands.

*  *  *

Risa shot upright at the sound of gunfire. A large, stuffed Cydonian crab slipped from her Comforgel pad to the floor. Male voices shouted in the next room, interspersed with more shots and an explosion that rattled toys from their shelves. Eight-year-old Risa cowered in a ball, as if a thin sheet would stop the chaos.

Colonel Darren Black appeared in the doorway to her room, bleeding from the left shoulder. He slumped against the wall, twisting to raise a compact rifle one-armed at someone out of sight behind the wall. Her adult mind experienced the dream; the dirt and blood-streaked face staring at her hardened. For an instant, the ice-blue eyes staring at her belonged to Andriy Voronin.

She covered her ears and screamed as the concussion of blasts in the outer room hit her in the chest. He staggered closer and tore the sheet away. Risa leapt up onto her knees, grabbing at him. Away from the glowing pad, she shivered as the cold air surrounded her scrawny, panty-clad body.

“Daddy! What’s going on?”

“Go!” He yelled, pushing her to the floor. “Get into the vent!”

She squeezed tighter to his back. “No!”

He shifted to face the door and his rifle went off again. She shuddered with the effect of the recoil, her terrified wail muffled into his back.

“Bliad!” he screamed. “Get in the vent, now!”

Something above and behind exploded in a blast of plastic shards amid the whizzing of a ricochet. Risa peeked around him as a line of tiny holes appeared in the door. Andriy flung himself in a twist, knocking her away from the bed, flat on her back. A man in red armor appeared in the doorway. Her father fired before the soldier could correct his aim. The man’s helmet shattered, sending a spray of blood onto the ceiling. Father fired again at random through the wall before glaring down at her. The look in his eyes emptied her bladder.

“Go!” he roared, pointing.

Barely able to see through tears and wailing, Risa sat up and tried to reach for him. He shouted at the doorway. For years, Risa had dreamed this part as an unintelligible, animal roaring of panic and rage. This time, in her waking dream, it was clear.

“My child is here. Stop shooting and I will come out. Do not hurt her.”

A bullet came through the wall and got him in the thigh, taking him to the ground on top of her. He grabbed her by the arm, fingers closed around her tiny bicep, dragging her to the wall. Two cracks from the rifle butt knocked the vent grate loose and he shoved her inside. Numb, she lay where he left her, sniveling as he kicked the vent cover in place and dragged himself into the room, shooting.

“Crawl. Get as far away from here as you can. I will try to find you.”

She shook her head.

“Go!”

His roar scared her into a backwards scamper until her back hit the cold metal of a right-angle turn six feet in.

Colonel Black, Andriy, or whoever he was, reared up to his one good knee and unloaded a fully automatic barrage through the wall. Risa watched, paralyzed, as her stuffed Cydonian crab burst into a flurry of snowy foam bits from return fire. Her father stopped shooting.

“Bliad! Bliad!” He rolled onto his chest, cramming himself against the grating. “Run!”

Metal clattered to the ground, accompanied by faint beeping. The room exploded in flames, which wrapped around his head and entered the vent. Like hands of the Devil himself, the inferno clasped him by the face and pulled him away. Risa scrambled on all fours around the corner. Heat lapped at her bare feet and her father’s screams echoed into the dark. She crawled as fast as she could, until a grating gave out under her and she fell headfirst down a vertical shaft, landing atop a pile of debris. Weak light sliced by a fan faltered a short distance above the trap, illuminating bottles, cans, things rats had scurried off with―forty years of vent clutter swept into the system.

She remembered the cold, the sore knees, the numb feet. As best she could guess, she spent hours lying on the heap of debris staring at the horizontal tunnel by the fan. Her father, and her entire world, were gone. What was the point of getting up? All she had left to her name were a pair of underpants and the memory of flames. In the dark, half a day after her father died, little Risa Black gathered her knees to her cheeks and cried.

*  *  *

The tickle of tears sliding down her bare leg came as reality and dream merged. Risa stared at her feet, pale white against the charcoal-hued carpet. Sadness faded to dread with the realization of where she was. Her tears stopped in an instant, replaced with a somber expression borne of a total lack of care about what happened to her. Everything Garrison had told her was false. Both men who had felt like fathers had lied.

“Daddy wasn’t MLF.” She meant to think it, but wound up whispering it.

“No,” said General Everett in a resigned, almost apologetic voice. “He was much more dangerous.”

“I shouldn’t have come here.”

He tapped his fingers on the desk, chair creaking in a soft protest as he rotated to face the room. “I wish things could have been different. If we’d have found you…”

“Am I to be executed?”

Everett gestured to someone behind her. The urge to jump in startlement slammed itself against her wall of apathy, emerging as a slight clenching of her hand.

“I’m sorry, Risa. That isn’t my call to make.”

Two soldiers pulled her standing. One grabbed the shirt as if to remove it.

“It’s fine,” said Everett. “She can keep it. Have a little respect.”

“All due respect sir,” said a female voice. “She’s a terrorist and doesn’t deserve to wear the uniform, even if it’s just a shirt.”

“You’d parade her around with nothing?” Everett stood. “Sergeant, remember which side you’re on. We do not treat our prisoners like animals.”

“Yes sir.” The armored woman saluted, sounding less than enthused.

The male soldier forced her head to the side, exposing the M3 port behind her ear. Risa instinctively plotted several moves to kill the three of them and leave, but couldn’t find the urge to care enough. Her gaze fell on the black band on the woman’s arm where plain white lettering read “MP.” The female soldier plugged something into her head. “Security Override” scrolled across the lower limit of her vision. Her augmented hearing cut out to normal levels, making her feel deaf. Risa didn’t try to test her other cybernetics, she knew a medusa had shut down her neural interface and every bit of cyberware she had aside from basic vision.

The male MP gathered her arms behind her back. Cold metal tightened about her wrists and chirped. The woman crouched and secured her ankles with another electronic restraint, though with a longer chain. Each MP grabbed one arm and dragged her towards the door and into the hallway. She shuffled in a feeble attempt to walk. Most of her weight fell on the MPs grip, not out of resistance, but from the apathy of utter defeat. She didn’t care what happened to her.

The only thing Risa felt was guilt about the message Pavo would find.

Borderlands Anthology

 

Awhile back, I submitted my short story Stolen Orchid to James Wymore’s Borderlands Anthology, which is set in the world established in The Actuator. It’s almost ready for release, and we are looking for early readers who would be willing to post an honest review on Amazon in exchange for an advance copy.

Anyone interested, please email me at msc @matthewcoxbooks.com (pardon the space, trying to throw off spambots) – or contact me via Facebook/Twitter. As soon as the production team is done with the e-ARC, I’ll get them out to those who are participating.

The anthology also includes shorts by: Sara Wolf, Dan Willis, Nathan Yocum, Mara Valderran, Patrick Burdine, Whitney Trang, James Pratt, Craig Nybo, Jason Purdy, Jenny Persson, Jay Wilburn, Juhi, Jason A. Anderson, Wilbert Stanton, and James Wymore.

Divergent Fate #45

(Start from the beginning here)

Risa glanced away from the blurred apparition of a normal woman in the sliding silver doors and focused on a six-inch holographic building glimmering in the corner. A tiny red capsule of light, representing the elevator, crept upward. Her outfit was innocuous, looking like anyone else that might walk into the Red Tower Hotel in Elysium city. She still had an eye for shoplifting; the white long-sleeved shirt with Chinese collar and black tights covered by a decorative skirt too short to matter were inexpensive while appearing the opposite at a casual glance. The ghost of the life she had lost wanted her to look at it. Minus the purple glowing eyes, the person in the otherworld existing behind mirrors could have been her if things were different.

Things had not been different.

Her armor, pistols, and NetMini waited for Pavo, on a table in another hotel in another city, back in Arcadia where she had shared a room with him for six days. A room that now contained a pre-recorded message apologizing for everything she was about to do. Twice he asked her to his apartment, and twice she dodged. Moving in with him would have been too official, too safe.

Too hard to risk this.

She looked to the left and down, studying every detail in the false three-dimensional pattern of Martian rock flecks suspended in clear plastic. The doors opened and destroyed the taunting specter. A narrow, grey hallway, taller than it was wide, stretched out in a curve. Every ten meters, ridges in the walls and ceiling held small lights; cleverly concealed structural reinforcement. This building could survive surface bombardment. Crimson carpet, barely thick enough to absorb the sound of her steps, swept ahead and to the right.

Risa walked like an automaton, following the curve until the faux-onyx door on her right bore 9-78 in gold.

With the posture of a drunken marionette, she stood for several minutes, refusing to turn. She showed little reaction to a tall, dark-skinned man in a high-end suit who brushed her as he passed in the confined corridor. He seemed to return the indifference; she did not look important enough to acknowledge, which was fine with her.

The voice of Colonel Darren Black howled in her memories.

I can’t turn back now. She put her fingers on the wall above a silver panel. No ImDent chip, no NetMini, and no M3 plug for her to hack. Risa burst out with laughter at the beginner’s mistake. She should have taken care of access downstairs rather than going right for the elevator. I’m emotional already and he’s not even here yet. Do I really want this? She scraped her fingernails down the wall on either side of the sensor. If I enter this room, I won’t come back. She leaned forward, forehead to a synthetic onyx slab in the guise of a door. Frustration, rage, and sadness swirled into a shudder that failed to produce sound or tears. A class 1 doll pushing a housekeeping cart stopped at the room on the opposite side.

No. Daddy would want me to live. The last thing he did was seal the vent.

Risa backed from the wall and took a step in the direction of the elevator. Room 9-78 and Room 9-73 opposite it chimed green at the same instant. The urge to jump from startlement became paralytic. Both doors slid open. A beep from ahead announced the arrival of the elevator as the housekeeping doll ambled into the other room.

“Sergeant Valez, you and Ako are in 9-76. Sergeants Montez and Fine on the other side in 80.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the voices of two women and two men.

Shit!

Before her brain knew what her legs were doing, Risa jumped into room 9-78. A quick glance confirmed the vent was too small for her. Her other options dwindled fast.

Under the bed. No. First place they’d check.

Bathroom. Nowhere to hide.

Wardrobes, drawers. No, too vulnerable.

The room door closed with a soft hiss.

The voices drew closer outside. If they caught her inside the room, she’d never find out why her father was killed.

Shit! She whirled about and scratched at the door. That was stupid! Shit, I’m trapped. I could have just walked past them. Risa turned red in the face. She rushed to the back of the room, taking cover behind an enormous false plant that shrouded the corner by floor-to-ceiling glass. Her blush intensified as she stripped and gathered her clothing into a wad. Panic rose in her heart as the voices in the hall got louder. The door chirped an angry buzzing tone, like an error. She squatted, and with shaking hands coaxed the vent cover open using a single Nano claw. She stuffed her things inside, replaced the grating, and jumped upright, flattening herself against the wall.

“Is there a problem, Sergeant?”

The door buzzed again.

“I’m not sure, sir,” replied a male voice.

“You’re doing it wrong,” said a woman. “Let me try.”

Risa’s CamNano cyberware swallowed the paper-white of her skin with the dusty crimson of Mars rock. Some shadows of her long, black hair remained visible when the door opened. Fortunately, none of them noticed apart from the shadow of plastic leaves. Whatever the housekeeper doll sprayed on the plant to make it smell like flowers made her eyes water. Coarse stone at her back felt real. Irregular fist-sized lumps and painful sharp points poked her from calf to shoulder.

Four people in camouflage spread out through the room to conduct a cursory search. One man swept a monitoring tool about in search of listening devices. A woman checked the bathroom while the other female soldier examined the floor under the bed and then went through cabinets. The last man, all seven and change feet of him walked straight at her. Risa shut her eyes almost too late. Terror that he had seen the violet glow behind the plant stopped her breathing. Cologne and the scent of man washed over her. A body passed within arm’s reach, followed by a blast of frigid air as the patio doors slid apart. She gritted her teeth in the draft; every ounce of willpower focused on not shivering.

Unable to see, she fell back on the spatial sensor. The comfortable world of grey shapes sliding like wraiths through a field of unending darkness kept her from panic. She had been just shy of seventeen when the MLF paid for that implant. Memories of General Maris talking her into it provided a distraction from her current fear. His distant voice ran through her thoughts, promising her being ‘good in the dark’ had nothing on the awareness it would give her. Its shortcoming lay in blindness when nothing moved.

Panic. Great, girl. Beautiful idea. Dive into his room and fling off your clothes. You are so goddamned lucky they’re not doing a thermal sweep. Guess it’s amateur hour all around today. For a moment, the thought of Pavo getting her recorded farewell message felt like a hand tightening around her neck. Her desire to see him again kept her frozen as the enlisted personnel finished their cursory search. The wispy gray silhouette of General Everett wandered through the four receding figures, shaking his head in annoyance.

“Who do you all think I am anyway?” he said into a chuckle. “No one gives much of a crap about me anymore.”

“That’s because every enemy who knew about you is dead, sir,” said a woman.

General Everett barked a single ‘hah.’ “You’re not trying to brown nose, are you Sergeant Ako?”

“No sir. Just admiring your career.”

“That’s brownnosing,” whispered a voice, indecipherable as to gender.

“Dismissed,” said the General.

“Sir,” replied four voices in unison.

The specters receded through the door, two heading left and two right. General Everett’s wraith-form crossed to a bureau where a heavy thud announced the landing of a suitcase. Tiny beeps rang out before a spring-snap. Risa risked a peek with one eye, estimating his back was turned. He took off a jacket bedecked with insignia, campaign ribbons, and a small number of medals. His shoes followed, and he removed his shirt before stretching. All the while, he grumbled about being too old for short notice trips.

“Heh. Counterintelligence.” Everett rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That’s appropriate. Going to this damn meeting is going to counter my intelligence.” He helped himself to the wet bar, drinking right from a tiny bottle. “Oh, well. All I can do is get it over with.”

This is going to be a shitty end to my career. What will Garrison think at the reports they find me in here naked? I keep telling them I’m not an assassin. Half the ACC thinks I’ve killed two dozen men in bed. Dammit, dammit, dammit. Raziel was trying to talk me out of this the whole time. Why didn’t I listen?

Her fingers squeezed smooth stone outcroppings while Everett slipped out of his dress uniform pants. Now in a tank top, boxer briefs, and dark socks, the man with the silvering afro wandering into the back looked like a harmless grandfather. She waited for him to close the bathroom door and ran for the exit. Her body took on a shape defined by random smears of color as she streaked across the room, the CamNano system unable to compensate for the rapid motion. She slapped at the wall and door.

It ignored her.

No Mini. She looked up at the white ceiling. Raziel, please… I’ve changed my mind. Let me out.

Silence, save for off-key singing over an operating autoshower. She called to him repeatedly in her mind while pushing on the door without a handle. Risa was unaware of time until she realized the thrum of the autoshower had stopped. Gasping like a child caught stealing cookies, she spun flat against the wall next to the door, and disappeared. Smooth metal was more comfortable than stone, though far colder.

General Everett walked nude into the room, old clothes folded over one arm. Risa shut her eyes with a faint cringe, observing him as a faint wraith-shape blessedly devoid of detail until he had pulled on a fresh pair of shorts. She remained statue-still for two hours, daydreaming of a fake call to room service to get the door open. For a brief moment, she contemplated showing herself, apologizing, and asking him to let her leave. That almost made her laugh aloud. What possible excuse could she give him for being in here, naked? One look at her violet eyes and he’d know who she was. A two-star general giving a speech on counterintelligence would have to know her. She swallowed and kept still while he watched an entertainment holo and snacked on something crunchy. His constant critique regarding the ridiculousness of the fictional military tactics and hardware grated on her nerves. At long last, he shut off the holo-bar and sat on the edge of the king size Comforgel pad.

“Front desk, how can I help you?” said a too-cheery voice.

“This is General Everett in room 9-78. I’m requesting a wake-up call at 5 a.m. sharp.”

“Of course, General Everett. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“That is all.”

Risa waited as the wispy human-shaped shadow leaned back and scooted under the covers. She waited more until the rate of his breathing changed into the beginnings of sleep, and opened her eyes. Nightvision chased away the darkness. She stared at the old man’s chest rising and falling, thinking about how seventeen years ago, he ordered her father killed. The kindly old grandfather who lay helpless twenty-five paces away had once been a murderer. In that instant, she forgot about Pavo as the id of a terrified eight-year-old clawed its way to the surface and demanded revenge.

She strode away from the wall, disabling her CamNano as she stood at the foot of his bed. The left half of her body caught the glow of Elysium City’s advert bots and electric luminescence. Ten slivers of gleaming Nano crystal slid out of her fingertips. The General muttered in his sleep as she crawled up onto the bed, a stalking panther hovering over him. He awoke as she held one set of claws over his face. His gaze went from her eyes, to her chest, farther south, then back to her eyes.

He swallowed, and seemed to be blushing.

For a moment, she stared at him without saying a word, contemplating simple, wordless vengeance. The clueless expression saved his life. There would be no point if he didn’t understand the why.

“Y-you must have the wrong room,” whispered General Everett. “I’m too old for you, child.”

“These aren’t fun toys, Everett. If anything is getting stuck in someone tonight it’s going to be sharp.”

“What do you want?” He sounded more confident as he lifted away from sleep.

“I want to know why you ordered the murder of Colonel Darren Black.”

Everett reached to scratch his head but hesitated when she pressed on the claw tips. “I can’t say I remember that…”

“I remember it like it happened hours ago.”

“As pleasant as the view is, might we continue this conversation after you’ve put something on?”

Risa considered taunting him over his body’s unconscious reaction to her lack of clothing. It unnerved her more than anything; even with her claws a fraction of a second from killing him, his brain had gone there. He’s either fearless or psychotic.

“You’re blushing, girl. Go ahead, take my shirt.” He pointed. “It’s on the chair.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Come on, whoever you are. You’ve obviously had a lot of augmentation. Do you honestly expect an old man like me to be faster than you?”

“Before I move, tell me why you had Colonel Black killed.” She leaned up, all but sitting on his stomach, claws raised. “Seventeen years ago.”

He held his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Darren Black was an enemy of the UCF.”

“Liar!” She hissed, controlling herself enough not to attract his security detail with a scream. A claw swipe at the wall covered him a smattering of sliced rock. “He served the citizens of Mars.”

“You’re his daughter, aren’t you?” General Everett narrowed his eyes. “I’m sorry, child. It wasn’t the MLF he worked for. It was the Allied Corporate Council. Your father was a spy.”

“No.” She put her blades at his throat. “Stop lying!”

“Colonel Darren Black was a lie. The man never existed. My order killed Andriy Voronin.”

Risa thrust her arm in a halfhearted swipe, which Everett caught by the wrist.

“My order saved thousands of lives, civilian and military.”

“I don’t believe you,” she whispered. “My father didn’t have an accent; he didn’t speak Russian at all.”

The iron-faced General relaxed again, melting into the harmless grandfather. “He wouldn’t have been a very good spy if he sounded like an ACC agent, would he?”

“You’re a spymaster. You’re playing me now.”

She tried to pull away, but he held her arm. His knee caught her in the gut, a firm shove that tossed her on her back and let him roll on top of her. Speedware mattered little with her wrists pinned to the Comforgel pad on either side of her head. Tears blurred her vision. No. No. I can’t believe him. My entire life, a lie?

General Everett must have felt pity for her at that moment. His glare softened and he released his grip on her arms. He slipped to the side and walked away from the bed. She stared at the ceiling without moving until the sound of his voice startled her.

“Get up.”

She glanced to her left, at the tip of General Everett’s sidearm, glinting in the dark.

Divergent Fate #44

(Archives – Catch up here!)

Flames billowed in a pyroclastic cloud, roaring towards Risa. The consuming torrent stretched like the immolating hand of a giant closing around her. She screamed. Her dream was wrong; the terrified cry was not that of a child. Awake, she shot upright, gasping for air. Thin white sheets fell, gathering in her lap; her naked chest glistened with sweat. Stringy, wild hair stuck to her. Risa gazed through ebon strands at the distant wall, confused by being somewhere other than home.

Orange light from below highlighted the shape of her legs against the sheets. The Comforgel pad had been set on manual and cranked up. Perspiration saturated the bedclothes, filling the Risa-shaped hollow in the thick gelatin slab with a puddle. She squirmed, but lacked the mental focus to get up. Realization of where she was dawned with a heavy bang from the bathroom, followed by the squeak of wet skin on tile. Pavo stumbled into a cling on the doorway, wearing nothing more than a layer of soap film.

“What was that scream? You alright?”

She covered her mouth and nose with both hands, breathing into her palms.

“Just a dream then?” He tiptoed over the carpet, trying to minimize dripping. “The tube still works.”

A laugh blurted out of her. “Yeah, just a dream. Go on then, you’re getting water all over.”

“Anything you want to talk about?” He held her hand.

“Yes.” She gazed into his eyes. “Why’d you turn the damn bed up to Hades?”

“Uhh…” He reached over her and flicked at the panel. The glow faded; her body no longer a visible shadow on the sheets. “I must’ve clipped it trying to get up without waking you. I’m on duty today, needed to get going early.”

She flung the sheets off and turned sideways to the pad, basking in the cold air. “It’s okay. Please don’t get shot without me.”

“I’ll do what I can.” He jogged for the bathroom. “Though, I was kind of hoping for some mild penetrating flesh trauma and maybe a knife wound or two.”

Risa laughed, wiping her eyes. Not bothering to dress, she poked the room’s assembler unit and made some coffee. Pavo rushed out of the bathroom, struggling into his pants. She stared through his reflection on the glossy black door as he put the rest of his clothes on, watching OmniSoy turn into an egg-on-a-roll.

“Planning to wear anything? Or are you going to laze around naked all day?” He sidled up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and putting his chin on her shoulder.

Risa shivered at the touch of his cold faux-leather coat all over her. “I haven’t decided yet.” She folded her arms over his. “It’s nice to spend some time out of that armor. It doesn’t breathe at all.”

“I’m going to have this image in my head all day. The distraction could kill me.” He kissed her on the cheek.

She moved so the second kiss found her lips. “I’ll get dressed as soon as I buy something to wear… and have a shower. I hate waking up in a pool of sticky.”

He let go, and gathered the last of his gear from the nightstand. “I could always call out today.”

“After what just happened between us, you’ll probably die if you don’t.” She took her food to the table and sat, legs crossed. “That’s what always happens, right? The handsome cop says he’ll call out to spend the day with the girl. She tells him not to risk his job. He gets killed that day and she never sees him again.”

Pavo gaped. “A simple ‘yes’ would’ve been fine.”

The egg-on-a-roll was not any closer to being breakfast. She imagined it challenging her. Go ahead, bite me. “Sorry. I’m just expecting the worst.”

He swiped the bathrobe from the carpet on his way to the table and draped it over her shoulders. “There’s one little problem with your assumed scenario.”

“You’re just a patrol officer and it’s unlikely you’ll get into a firefight?”

“Investigator, actually. Detective Sergeant.” He patted her on the shoulder. “No, you called me ‘the handsome cop.’” He used his NetMini as an improvised mirror. “Maybe the upper-middle end of average, but I’m being generous.”

She made a pfff noise.

He leaned forward, whispering at her ear. “Just say the word. I’ve got 217 hours in the bank.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I have a date with a general.”

He gripped her shoulder.

“No, Pavo. You can’t go with me. If it goes wrong, I don’t want you getting caught up in it. You’re in too deep. The Front needs people in the Defense Force.”

“So they do.” He stood up. “You’ve been wanting a change. Maybe we can sneak you in the door. You wouldn’t have to plant bombs anymore.”

Risa gathered the sandwich, laughing. “Me? Join the MDF? Are you insane?”

“I’m beginning to wonder.” He grinned, and made his way to the door. “Do me a favor… If your ‘angel’ gets a bad feeling about my day, drop me a vid and let me know.”

He lingered halfway out of the hotel room watching her eat for a few minutes before the door closed. She managed three quarters of the food before the substance shifted in taste, the return to beige slime imminent. Abandoning it, she peeled the robe away and wandered to the bathroom, where she packed it into the top end of a boxy component on the wall. After a quick shower, she pulled the now-clean garment out of the bottom end of the unit and put it on.

Once again in the chair by the patio door, she thumbed in an order for some unassuming civilian clothes and resumed her pastime of watching military ships come and go.

The voice of Raziel tensed every muscle in her back as it flooded her reality. If you still desire it, I will make good on my promise. I ask only that you be sure you want to know, and that you do not abandon the cause.

Nano claws crept out of her fingertips into the table as she clutched the edge. His presence overwhelmed her―paralyzing, deafening, and warm. She shuddered, unable to react for several seconds.

“Yes,” she wheezed. “I have to.”

So be it. Her body shivered as each word rocketed through her nerves. General Everett is speaking at a cyberspace security conference in two days. Primus City Convention Center.

Risa wondered if the angel was angry with her. His words had never before hurt like they did that time. Her arms and legs clenched and cramped, bringing an involuntary tear from her eye. She forced herself to straighten in her seat as a pixilated portrait formed on the sliding glass doors. It wasn’t the doors; the image was in her head, the smooth surface provided a convenient backdrop for her hallucination. A chocolate-skinned man, old enough for grey to tinge the sides of his short-trimmed hair gazed at her. UCF green dress uniform shoulders framed the lower half of the image. A nameplate on his breast pocket read “Everett” beneath two stars.

This was not the face of the monster she envisioned ordering the murder of a little girl’s dad in his own home, right in front of her. Maj. General Everett looked like an ordinary grandfather, a weary-eyed older man too wan for his uniform.

He’s trying to make me feel bad for the bastard who killed my daddy.

Raziel’s sigh made her back arch. No, Risa. I am showing you the man you have grown up hating. He has the answers you seek. He will be staying the night at the hotel, with only a small contingent of security.

“S-small?” Her grip on the table tightened.

He is only a two-star general. The security of which Pavo spoke was for the base, not one man.

She gasped for air, slumping over the table as the angel’s presence released her. “I don’t want to kill his security team. It’s not their fault.”

When no response came, she glared at the peach-colored puddle on the plate. Even the crumbs had turned into droplets of ooze. “Please, Raziel. Let me do this.”

He will check in to room 9-78.

Raziel’s presence receded, as did her claws.

She slumped out of the chair and rolled flat on her back, staring at the ceiling. Dread and anticipation locked horns. She had to know why that man ordered her father killed. She had to bury the dark specter that had crawled after the little girl into the vent shaft seventeen years ago. It was stupid and reckless and pointless, but necessary. Doubt and regret would forever taint her chance at a real life if she did nothing. Risa closed her eyes, fingertips holding the tears back.

“I’m sorry, Pavo… I have to know.”

Divergent Fate #43

(New? Start reading from the beginning here)

Silence faded, consumed by the rush of blood racing through Risa’s head. Augmented hearing latched on to the whoosh-thump of her accelerating heart. With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see the expression on Pavo’s face, nor did she feel any motion in the Comforgel slab. He sat an arm’s reach away, statue still, probably staring at her like the freak she was.

That was stupid. Risa suppressed the urge to shiver. Impulsive. I shouldn’t have put him in that position. What if he does nothing? Her fingers tightened into the bedding. Had minutes passed, or was it only seconds? What if he doesn’t want me?

A band of warmth spread over her eyes, nascent tears ready to emerge. Her breathing grew rapid. Oh, no, he’s not going to…

“Are you sure this is what you want?” His voice pulled her out of the swirling thrum.

“Yes.” Risa left her eyes closed. “I… know it must feel too fast.” She lowered her head. “Until Mars is free, either one of us could die tomorrow. I can’t wait until all I have left is regret.”

A warm, coarse hand caressed her cheek. She leaned into his touch.

“You’re like a Matsushita Shinobi. Top of the line, sleek, deadly… but they burn out in two years, if they don’t kill you first.”

Being compared to a high-end electric motorcycle wasn’t the most romantic thing she’d ever heard, but she reached up to cradle his hand against her cheek. “You were afraid of me?”

“I… was afraid of getting close and losing. You’ve always been reckless, like you didn’t care if you died.” His thumb brushed just in front of her ear. “What would General Maris say if you stopped taking silly chances?”

A tiny amount of voice traced through her whisper. “I don’t care what General Maris thinks.”

His other hand grasped her shoulder, the Comforgel shifted. Every muscle in her back tensed. Risa raised her chin; his lips made contact with hers. Years of isolation exploded in a cascade of emotion. Dread at rejection exploded into elation. Guilt, shame, and loneliness tangled with love, lust, and fear. How much time would they have? Which one would bury the other first? Days? Months? Maybe years? She cried despite herself, wrapping her arms around him. Her first true kiss pulled apart after a minute, and she let her eyes open. He seemed to gaze into her heart.

He ran a finger down the ridge of her nose, and tapped the tip. “What if I want you to stop taking silly risks?”

She held two fistfuls of his jacket, shuddering. “I risked my ass because I haven’t really been alive since I was eight. I’m lingering… Everything in my life has just been this need to understand why my father was killed. I had to make someone pay for what they did to my family.”

“You’ve found this General Everett…” He reached out and pulled strands of hair away from her face.

The tender contact made her tremble. “Raziel must have been afraid I’d lose my will to live once I had no questions left. I guess I really have just been a hollow shell. I…” She shifted up on her knees, pressing her forehead into his. “I was afraid you’d think of me as a machine. All those stories, rumors about me being psychotic.”

He kissed her again, a playful peck on the lips, and laced his fingers behind her neck. “You were so aloof, distant. Not to mention the first time we met, you almost killed me.”

Risa laughed, remembering how she stole the e-mag from his sidearm. “When you carried me to the med center, I…”

Pavo quieted her with a longer kiss. “I know. You weren’t very subtle. I didn’t want to take advantage of you when you were out of it.”

“Raziel’s afraid I’ll give up and die if I kill Everett. Please, Pavo… give me something more to fight for than hate. I can’t go on trapped outside, watching everyone else live.”

Pain and worry lingered in his gaze. He slid his hands down her sides and left them limp in his lap. “I need you to promise me one thing, Risa Black.”

She swallowed. He’s going to ask me to give up on the general. Can I let that go? Closing eyelids sent a tear racing down her cheek. I’m sorry, Daddy. I know you wouldn’t want me to get killed trying to avenge you. She inhaled and looked him in the eye. “Okay. You want me to forget about Everett?”

“No.” He smiled. “I’d like you to disable your Fangz implant.”

*  *  *

Risa curled on her side, one arm across Pavo’s chest, one leg tangled with his. He hadn’t moved from the position in which he’d landed, embedded in the Comforgel like a jumped-off-the roof recreation of Da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man. She lifted her head from his bicep, grinning at the silly expression sculpted on his face. A tooth-baring grin of exhaustion tinged with surprised elation. The look would have been perfect if he’d won a billion credits in the Arcadia Powerball, but was too tired to move.

She’d lost track of where the sheets went. One pillow remained on the bed, though she let him have it because she had his arm. The bureau lay on its face, one curtain draped over the small table by the patio doors, table and chairs upside down, and faint error buzzing from the bathroom fought for notice over the sound of Pavo breathing.

We look like some kind of old statue. She smiled. Pavo’s parents had been with the Marsborn movement as well, opting for the gene tweak to turn their skin chalk white. Unlike her, he had not had a genetic depilatory, leaving patches of his skin grey with a haze of black hair. Amused by the feel of it, she ran her hand through the patch on his chest. He wheezed, reaching around her back with his pinned left arm. The roughness upon her hip sent a shudder through her and made her bite his shoulder.

“Again? You can’t possibly have enough energy left…” He raised an eyebrow.

“Tired?”

A chuckle whispered out of him. “I’ve never seen a woman bend like that.”

“Those Chinese military-grade reflex enhancements you got me, they have other uses.” She kissed his cheek until he turned to look at her, and kissed him deep on the lips. A lustful stare lingered for a moment after she pulled away, replaced by an alluring smile. “Think the hotel will be upset? We might’ve broken the autoshower.”

He patted her hip and rubbed her side. “I can take a look at.”

“I bet you can fix just about anything.”

Her inviting smile faded to a pout at the intense look in his eyes.

“Don’t think like that, Risa. You don’t need fixing.”

“Maybe you already did.” She cuddled into his side, quiet for a long while as he held her.

I could forget all about the Revolution. A shift in time, evidenced by a change in where the light patch from the patio hit the wall, told her she drifted in and out of sleep. Pavo had passed out. She sat up, leaning forward so her hair fell in her lap, and buried her face against her knees. What did you do, Risa? Garrison’s going to shit himself. He’ll never let us work together again. Love makes people do stupid things, take stupid chances… or hesitate. The onrush of guilt was sideswiped her building fatigue at dwelling in darkness. A waterfall of ebon settled across her back as she flung her head up, smiling. What did I do? I stopped hating myself.

She raked her nails down his chest, over his stomach, eliciting a moan. “Hungry?”

He moaned again.

Wandering around the room, she sifted through discarded clothing and righted tipped furniture on a hunt for her NetMini. After a few taps through a holo-panel, she dropped it on the table and sat on the edge of the bed, laying back so her head rested on his gut. Half-awake, he managed to find her with one hand, and stroked her hair. A few minutes later, a boxy hovering bot floated up to the sliding glass doors, blinking with a series of green and blue lights. Not bothering to reach for the hotel bathrobe, she padded to the door and opened it. Her hair blew back in a stiff wind as the doors opened; the rush of cold air on her nakedness was invigorating. A hatch on the front end of the floating machine opened, letting a puff of steam and teriyaki wash over her face.

“You should’ve covered up. Some deck jockeys set programs loose on the net designed to run around skimming delivery bot’s memory cores for nude images.” He propped himself up on his elbows. “You’ve just made some pubescent cave-dweller’s month.”

The doors closed with a soft pssh, muting the whirr of the departing robot. She set both cartons on the bed, and tossed a set of plastic-wrapped chopsticks on Pavo’s lap. He rolled on his side while she sat on the edge, one leg dangling.

“What’d you get?”

“Two orders of chicken teriyaki soba.” She opened hers, gathering noodles on a pair of black lacquered Epoxil sticks.

Pavo had a little trouble finding his mouth as he kept staring at her. She found the game amusing, continuing to shift in subtle ways to tease him with the view.

“What’s on your mind?” He cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t look too happy.”

“Would you think less of me if I told you I feel like I’m inhuman? I want to be normal again.”

He took two more mouthfuls while she poked her noodles around. “I’ve seen people who’ve gotten too much ‘ware. Most have both arms replaced, sometimes legs. The worst are the ones with the majority of the structural elements in their torso converted. They’ve got headware, eyes, claws, strength boosts, chem injectors… All you’ve got is a little speedware and eyes.”

“I feel stupid for giving up perfectly good eyes.” All sexiness in her posture fell to a forlorn slouch. “I miss them.”

“Do you really notice the difference? The Dissonance comes from feelings of being superhuman, which… I’ll admit your speedware is a prime source of, but”―he slid his empty food tray to the nightstand, sat up, and pulled her back against his chest with an arm around the stomach―“I’m sure you’re sane. It doesn’t matter to me how many electronic parts you’ve got inside you, or how few.”

“Not that I can afford the procedure, but Command would lose their minds if I got rid of it.” She gasped as he reached up and cupped her breast. “Pavo…”

“It’s your body, Risa.” He circled her nipple with the tip of his finger. She grabbed the gel pad and squeezed. “Aside from being magnificent, it’s completely yours to do with as you please. Don’t let Maris or any of his underlings tell you what to do with it. Don’t let me tell you what to do with it.” He leaned in close, kissed the left side of her neck, and whispered in her ear. “It’s your choice. I’ll support you, whatever you decide.”

Risa arched her back as he continued caressing her chest. She bit her lip. “I don’t know what I want anymore. Do you think it makes me a coward?”

“No, Risa…” He moved her half-finished dinner to the nightstand, out of the way. “I think it makes you human.”

She closed her eyes, grinned, and let him pull her onto the bed.

Divergent Fate #42

(Archives – start from the beginning)

Pavo’s reflection, a specter over the city, hovered just to the left of her own in the balcony door. Warm breath lingered on her shoulder for an instant. Risa let her eyelids droop; her weight started to tilt back, but she caught herself as he moved away into the room. She gathered the robe closed, downcast gaze upon a porcelain foot sunk in carpet the color of charcoal.

What’s wrong with me? She wound the cloth belt into a weak knot. He’s seen me naked twice now; last time I was helpless, and he hasn’t made a move. Risa looked up, shifting towards the bed. Didn’t make eye contact. Didn’t stare at me. Guess it is ‘older brother.’ Her gaze fell as she trudged to sit on the bed.

He had his back to her; left arm across his chest clutched his elbow while he picked at his lip. “You know I think this whole angel thing is a pile of dustblow the size of a Cydonian crab.”

She spent a moment staring at her knees, caught somewhere between the urge to cry at a sense of rejection and her usual reaction to a situation outside her control―anger. Her feet slid back and forth through the rug in a feeble search for warmth. Daydreams of Pavo holding medics at gunpoint while they made her human again evaporated.

“I know,” she whispered. “So, either you believe it now, or someone who knows about Raziel is manipulating you.”

“The entire Front knows you hear angels talking to you.”

He could have said it in a mocking tone, or sympathetic. Pavo added no inflection whatsoever, a simple statement of fact.

Dammit, girl. You’ve never cared about anything but revenge before. She slid a hand over synthetic silk sheets. With only a bathrobe between her and Pavo, a years-old argument between Garrison and General Maris played through the back of her head. Maris wanted her to seduce and kill someone. Risa refused, more horrified at the idea of being an assassin than being whored at sixteen. Her adoptive father figure had not taken it well. Garrison had almost shot him.

Was that love?

“What are you thinking of?” At last, he looked at her.

Why do I feel like this? Hesitance became embarrassment, which yielded to the safety of hate. “Killing a general.”

Her mood must have flashed over her face. Pavo approached, looking concerned. “Did I miss an update? What happened? A general? UCF?”

Risa pulled her hand back into her lap, clasping her wrist and staring at her toes. “I found the name of the person who ordered my father’s death. I want to know why.” An advert bot hovered at the window, offering a milieu of confections and sexy lingerie. “I’m expecting to kill him.”

“So you think you’re just going to walk right in and kill a general in the UCF Marine Corps?” He ignored the bot as well. “I’m not sure what kind of intel you’ve gathered on the facility, but the security here isn’t the pushover it is out in the middle of nowhere. Faking credentials won’t work, they’ll pick up your implants at the checkpoint. No military personnel apart from the intelligence division has the kind of ‘ware you do. That’ll red flag right away.”

She fiddled with her fingers, silent.

“You’d need heavy cutting gear to get in through the vents, never mind the sensors, defense pods, gas mines, alarms. Those little pen knives in your fingers won’t make it through reinforced indirium. At least, not without the strength of a doll behind them.”

“Alright, alright… You made your point.” Risa glanced left, away from him like a scolded child. “Raziel sent you here to talk me out of going after Harris.”

I feel safe with you, Pavo. In a way I’ve never known. She peeked out of the corner of her eyes at him. Could we run off to a colony and forget this whole mess? Her toes gripped the rug. No, he’s PVM, he’s as dedicated to freeing Mars as I am. Was?

“If he’s an angel, why would he need me to talk you out of doing anything?” Pavo chuckled. “From what I hear, no one can talk you out of something once your mind is made up.”

“There’s no way to get in there? Not even for me?”

“Risa…” He sat on the edge, far enough away not to invade her space. “You are a talented infiltrator, perhaps the best the MLF has. However, your training is part experience, part circumstance, and part luck. They designed Arcadia Command to resist infiltration by military intelligence operatives. Men and women who spend ten, fifteen, twenty years trained by experts. People who don’t have your ‘flaw.’ You’re good, but I don’t know if you’re good enough.”

“Flaw?” She looked at him, expression neutral. “Being a woman? Seeing angels? Or do you mean being Cat-6?”

He reached towards her. Risa did not move, even as his finger lifted her chin and sent strange tingles down her neck into her chest. “No, Risa Black. You have a conscience. You cannot kill without guilt.”

Do not cry. Trapped by his eyes, she felt paralyzed; her breathing slowed. Is that pain? Guilt? What’s in that stare? “Did you come here just to talk me out of this?”

Pavo hesitated; his expression a clue he did not expect the faltering voice coming out of her. “Your… angel seemed to think you were in danger.”

Risa forced herself to inhale, despite the weight on her chest. “You believe him?”

“I couldn’t trace the message. Even sent it to the MDF tech lab and the prongs there had no better luck. One of ‘em said it was like the message just appeared on the net with no source.”

She smiled and bit her lip. At once, she wanted to put a hand on his and didn’t. Pavo felt right, but was unreadable. He seemed protective, but like a headstrong idiot ready to get himself killed to stop his little sister from hurting herself. Risa looked down at the carpet. Shiro was all suave charm and money. As much as the man denied interest, he was trying to get her in bed.

That life would be safe…

“Raziel doesn’t want me finding Harris. I don’t know why. He’s hoping you can stop me from trying to get in there.”

“Can I?” His hand crept closer on the silk.

I’m being stupid. He’s just protecting a fellow soldier. Thinks I’m weak. “I won’t get hurt.” She shoved resolve through the strange feeling his presence caused. “I can’t keep doing this with so many questions. If I can’t find out what happened to my father, I’m out.”

“Out?” He tilted his head.

“Yes. Out. Out of the MLF, out of Mars, out of this nightmare of a life.”

He grabbed her wrist, sliding his fingers over her palm to interlace hers. “I don’t want you to do anything stupid.”

The tingle ran down her arm; the warmth of his touch flooded her body.

The voice of Raziel exploded through her mind, locking her muscles. The resistance needs you, more than you know. The innocent of Mars look up to you.

She clutched Pavo’s hand.

I wanted to protect you from a truth I thought you could not handle and I feared what you learn would shake your commitment to the cause. I underestimated your determination. I will help you learn, if you will help the people of Mars.

“What’s wrong?” whispered Pavo. “You’re shaking.”

You deny yourself fearing rejection, Risa. Raziel’s voice weakened, his presence released her muscles. He holds back out of respect. I did not send him here to stop your search for answers. I sent him here to help you find them.

Risa lifted her gaze from his hand to his face, whispering, “I can’t do this anymore.”

“You’re not… leaving?” He squeezed his grip on her fingers. “You can’t do what anymore?”

Hope and dread swirled in a chaotic storm in her heart; what would she do if Raziel was wrong? What would she do if she was wrong?

“Be alone.” She let her eyes close and leaned up towards him, trembling, half-open lips waiting.