Chapter Sixteen-A

  Clockwork gears spun in malevolent metronome searching, digging, harvesting the very shape of her soul for any secrets hidden there, and Malory shivered. She slid the pistol back into its holster and lowered her gaze. The implant did not spit out a label for the Stranger, instead displaying a row of question marks as if it didn’t consider him a person, and Malory felt true fear; every want and goal she’d ever had was laid bare on display as an enticing buffet for the ravenous animal coiling around the fabric of her sense of self. The ghost, Evie in her full billowing dress and ethereal glory, materialized in the space between them. She was unconcerned by those eyes, the interlocking teeth rotating around and around and chewing up all it saw, and leaned forward until she was inches from the Stranger’s face. There was a light of recognition on her spectral features—she recognized him, too, and it left Malory at a loss. Her thoughts were too disordered to make sense of what was happening, and she stuttered out a return greeting that stuck in her throat. At that, the facade slipped, and the Stranger’s face was a fountain of disgust. He considered her a smear of shit stuck to the bottom of his designer boots, and intended to scrape it free.

  He is the one who ruined all my crafted plans, the decades of preparation all for naught. Plant a bullet in his brain and be done with it. The schematics must be retrieved. This is your mission. Mission. MISSION.

  It was too much. Malory ducked around the Stranger and ran. She didn’t care how it looked or what the ghost wanted, she just needed out. A ZenTech enforcer waltzing into the Black Hands headquarters didn’t make any damn sense. A double agent? A mole? It was above her pay grade. She wanted no part of it, so she ran and did not look back. She blew past the guards and out into the street and kept going until she made it to the monorail station and boarded. She felt like a coward, but she’d never felt fear like that before, not when she was in the thick of a firefight where a single stray bullet could end her life, or when Nadia dangled over the precipice of ZenTech tower, or when her sister and her had stumbled across the mercenary reaping lives in an alleyway so many years ago. It took the entire ride to her destination to feel a semblance of normal again, but she could sense a change deep down inside—a phantom pain or a scar seared into the fabric. She hoped it would harden her the next time she found herself in front of the man, but she couldn’t be certain, so she cast it aside and focused on climbing up the abandoned satellite tower to memorialize her dead friends.

  The movements were practiced and it was trivial with the new arm. The risky rusted metal of an old air conditioning unit, a protruding bolt, and a ledge weathered to hell by the elements, the implant gripped in confidence and refused to budge. She was at the top in no time and breathed in deep. The air was cleaner in the sky. She ran fingers across her flank where the ribs were stiff from exertion, but it was fine. It was just another scar to add to the ledger, and she was proud to bear it. She walked over to the names with short steps to give the moment a sense of solemnity and slid a small bag from her shoulder. She’d crammed a brass holder inside along with a dozen sticks of incense, a specialty firework, and a lighter. It was going to be a proper thing instead of just crossing out names like an expired resource in a ledger. Martin and Spencer had died, and they’d done it for her. Malory was never going to forget that sacrifice, and she wasn’t about to let the world do so either. Once everything was ready to go, she squatted on dirty concrete and called Nadia. A funeral deserved more than a single witness.

  “Hello?” Nadia’s entire face was caked in grease—she’d been tuning a hydraulic system, and it had exploded in her face. She tried to wipe it away with a rag, but it smeared deeper into her skin.

  “I can call back,” Mal said. She turned the lighter around in her new hand, admired the soft clicking on plastic. “I’m at the tower, though.”

  “It’s alright. I finished the main project, anyway,” she said. She spun around in a circle until she collapsed into a pile of tools and old parts. She let out a deep sigh and didn’t have an ounce of care about her ragged state. “I’ll be sending you something soon.”

  “You’re far too nice to me,” Mal said. She wanted them to spend time together, to delight in each other’s company, but there had been so much going on and her precarious emotional state wouldn’t let her to ask for it.

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  “It’s just the gift I meant to give you at our birthday party,” Nadia said. She raised her hands from the floor and held them a few paces apart. “About this much adorable steel and whiskers. Needs an AI to run it, but I’m sure you’ll figure that out.”

  “Maybe,” Mal said. The confidence was appreciated, and she hoped whiskers meant what she thought it did. She’d always wanted a cat. But it wasn’t the time for catching up, so she flicked the spark wheel until it caught and lit the incense sticks. She set them in the holder and placed it in front of the carved names. “It’s time.”

  “You have a speech planned or something?” Nadia asked. She lifted one of the old parts under her and pretended to inspect it; she didn’t handle sadness well, and preferred working through things with her hands.

  “Not really,” Mal said. She wasn’t eloquent, and nothing she could think to say really mattered, but the process was important. She lit the firework next, held it out with her metal hand, and together they watched the fuse burn down to the quick. When the propellant ignited, she let go and it soared above the city with a scream. When it exploded, it vomited a blend of yellows, oranges, and reds with a digital tinge; she didn’t have the credits for the ones that created pictures, but it was still beautiful. “I’ll miss you, I’ll remember you, and you mattered.”

  “I wish I could be there with you,” Nadia said. Her eyes were wide at the spectacle.

  “It’s better that you aren’t,” Mal said. She watched the colors smolder, spread, and fizzle out. The cloud of smoke floated away on the breeze, and she sighed. “Associating with me won’t be good for your health after today.”

  “What do you mean?” Nadia asked. She sat up in a hurry, her face serious. “You’re planning to do something dangerous, aren’t you?”

  “Just some light terrorism, nothing big,” Mal lied. She wasn’t about to tell her girlfriend that she planned to march right into the ZenTech C-suite offices and blast anyone that looked important. Her scholarship would obligate reporting it, but the crazy girl would probably try to help anyway. “I don’t plan on dying, though. Not after they gave up their lives for mine.”

  “You’re balancing on a knife’s edge, you know,” Nadia said. She lingered a moment, then flashed a genuine smile. “Guess I rubbed off on you, after all.”

  “You could say that,” Mal said. She pulled out a knife and headed for the names. The ghost materialized beside her and observed with a deep knowing of loss. They shared the silence, all three staring at the record the orphans had left. More of them had left the world before they managed to change it. The wind gusted as Mal lifted her hand and carved deep grooves across Martin, and then Spencer. She wondered if there’d be anyone left to cross hers off if the time ever came.

  “Rest in peace,” Nadia said. She got back on her feet, intending to tackle the busted hydraulic system that gave her trouble before the call. “Should I be worried?”

  “If anyone tries to give you shit like last time, just say you haven’t heard from me since my visit,” Mal said. It was easier that way. Plausible deniability, or whatever.

  “Expect my gift soon. I’ll address it to the Doc, just in case. And thank you for having me on the call while you honored them. It was nice.” She’d already started working again, little hands moving parts and cables to fit back where they belonged. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Mal said. She let the call drop, but stayed on the roof until the incense ran out. She was anxious to get to it, but she forced herself to stay. The smell of sandalwood clung to her clothes. They deserved more than a half-assed memorial before she rushed back off into danger.

  The climb back down was simple enough that she scrolled through blueprints and diagrams of ZenTech tower as she went. Malory had been inside before, sure, but she wasn’t planning on walking through the front door, and needed a reliable way out if the alarms tripped before she escaped. Her hack could handle the doors, but she wasn’t sure about security plating or automated turrets, so she searched. Each handhold and drop down was accompanied by a layout of ventilation systems, or the framework of interlocking passages that connected floors in various ways, lists of which places were most likely to be occupied, and some sketches she’d found on the net of offices that forbid recording. By the time she was back on the ground, Mal had chosen her route in and out, and marked the rooms where executives could be found at any given time of day meeting with all their investors. Why it wasn’t done virtually, she had no idea. Archaic displays of power and hierarchy, probably. On her way to the monorail station, she bought a strawberry ice cream bar wrapped in shortcake and devoured it on the ride. Good enough for a final meal. When it was gone, she chewed on the stick until it splintered to pieces.