Heir Ascendant: Faded Skies, #1

Part 1

Innocent Deception

1

Dream Life

Discarded wrappers littered the slate-grey countertop, rustling as small hands added one more to the pile. Maya couldn’t remember the last time a housekeeper prepared her meal―not that it took a lot of skill to unpack a thin, octagonal plastic tray and toss it in the Hydra. A minute later, four unidentifiable blobs in separate compartments had absorbed enough moisture to expand into a substance similar to the stringy meat-in-gravy she recalled giving her dog, plus a portion of green beans and mashed potatoes.

The only difference was how it smelled―the dog food was better.

A brown horror rested at the center of the tray in its own little chamber. It was supposed to be a dessert, but if she saved it for last, it would be rock hard. If she ate it first, it would scald the inside of her mouth. Maya stood up on tiptoe to reach into the Hydra, sucking air through her teeth as she tugged at the hot plastic tray, then scurried to the table and dropped it fast, rubbing her hands on her oversized beige sweater to cool them. With a sigh, she fell into the chair, staring at the comm terminal while picking at her dinner and letting one dangling foot sway. Endless weeks and months of the same three choices for dinner left her uninterested in tasting it.

Whatever meat sat under the heavy, brown gravy, its scent reminded her of having a dog. Tiny and white, he had regarded the pedestrian offering of rehydrated food as though it came from on high. Like Maya, he’d gotten the same unidentifiable substance every night, but the little guy had been excited as if each time was the first he’d had such a treat. A frown formed around the fist mushing her cheek to one side. She couldn’t recall the dog’s name or what had happened to him, catching only brief glimpses of having had a pet at some point in the past.

She left the empty tray on the table and plodded down the long corridor across the penthouse apartment and the four wooden stairs descending to the living room, a vast expanse of dimly lit sparsity. At a pair of sliding glass panels, she sat cross-legged on the tan carpet and gazed out over a glittering city of steel, glass, and neon light. Gusting wind pushed the scent of rain in around the closed doors.

Whirring, a little louder than the machine that cleaned and dried her hair, grew in strength to the right. Maya leapt to her feet, standing stiff at attention as a hovering drone skimmed along outside. Gleaming white shrouds, twelve inches around and emblazoned with the word Ascendant in silver, covered a ducted fan at each tip of the triangular machine. A large gun on its undercarriage swiveled at her, seconds before a grid of green laser light covered her body. After a momentary pause, a happy chirp accompanied its weapon returning to a neutral orientation, and the drone tilted forward, flying off. She lowered herself to sit once more, glaring at the slogan ‘Building a better you!’ below the name of her mother’s company until the machine drifted out of sight to the left.

She couldn’t hear the people far below in the street, but they seemed sad like her. Everyone kept their heads down and shuffled along, a river of grey-clad bodies indistinguishable from each other save for subtle variations in height. Most wore the same drab poncho and filter mask; everyone feared breathing in Fade. No one made eye contact with anyone. Several larger drones hovered over the crowd, patches of radiant light adding color to the blank world. Their frames as big as motorcycles, the four-fanned Authority bots on the hunt for criminals and non-conformers were double the size of the corporation-owned ones circling her building.

No one ever smiled; at least, not unless they happened to be selling something.

Overcast sky darkened, fast enough for her to perceive the change to night. Today had been a remarkable day; Mother had shown up at the penthouse apartment to check on her. Elation at gaining her attention, even for one solitary hour, had long ago turned to resentment. Mother hadn’t been as much concerned with her as she’d been with getting some good photos for use in the latest ad campaign.

Being the daughter of the CEO of Ascendant Pharmaceutical Corporation sucked.

An hour past dark, she gave up on waiting for the telltale glow of Mother’s helicopter coming in for a roof landing and trudged to her bedroom. Maya changed into a shin-length nightdress and started to crawl into bed, but stopped with one knee up on the mattress. She got down, went to the door and, as if sneaking up on a sleeping monster, crept to the comm terminal in the hallway. At the center of an eight-by-ten panel of dark metal, a round steel eye as big as her fist greeted her with a slow-blinking red light.

Maya, she said.

Voiceprint recognized. Good evening, Maya Oman. It is past your bedtime.

She sighed. I know. Outbound call please, Vanessa Oman.

The terminal remained silent for thirty seconds before the regal face of a woman in her middle thirties appeared, a midair hologram. Long, wavy black hair cascaded around high cheekbones and perfect ebony skin. Every time Maya saw her, she felt self-conscious at her lighter tone. She wanted to be dark like Mother, not the medium brown she’d been stuck with. Always, Maya wondered if her appearance had something to do with her mother’s distance.

The cadence of a recording in a stern woman’s voice filled the corridor. This is the private vid-mail inbox for Vanessa Oman, CEO of Ascendant Pharmaceuticals. If you have the necessary clearance to contact this number, leave a message. Otherwise, please disconnect this call and await the arrival of Authority Officers.

Begin message, said a digital tone.

Mother. It’s Maya. You didn’t come home… again. I guess you’ve gone to one of the other apartments. Good night. Maya turned her back on the console. Terminal, end call.

The walls flickered and went dark as the holo-projector cut out. Maya spent a moment admiring moonlight glinting off the silver glitter in her raspberry toenail polish before emitting a soft sigh and heading to bed.

2

Body Count

Pressure on her face dragged Maya out of sleep. Two bright green spots hovered over her; an enormous metal hand covered her mouth and pinched her cheeks. The scent of a sweating man mixed with industrial chemicals flooded her nostrils. She let off a pitiful, muffled scream and kicked through her blankets at a chest rigid enough to hurt her toes.

A gun slid out of the darkness; its icy barrel against her forehead pushed her skull into the pillow as the green eye spots shrank with a faint electronic whirr.

Be still. One sound, you die. His breath smelled like rotting meat.

Maya attempted to nod, but couldn’t move her head.

Blink twice if you understand.

She did. The man removed his giant hand from her face. He leaned up and away, keeping his weapon aimed at her. Room lights came on; his eyes shifted color, becoming yellow. His great dark-blue arms, bigger around than her chest, appeared metal, as if hundreds of small interlocking ingots had flown together in a devouring plaque that advanced well over his shoulders and shrouded the sides of his head. The interface between steel and skin resembled the teeth of a gear. More guns peeked from the folds of a long military-style coat. At her stare, mechanical lens-eyes jutting an inch out from his head clicked and narrowed further. His broad face and wide nose were similar in hue to her skin: creamed coffee. Not a trace of humanity remained in his glare.

Maya had no doubt this man could kill her.

A woman, younger than Mother but not by much, slipped past him. His bulk made her seem like a child. Black fatigue pants swooshed as she cleared the end of the bed in two strides. Thick dreadlocks hung down to her belt, studded with trinkets, beads, and wooden rings. She wore a nylon harness with a pair of handguns, several cases, and two silver grenades over an olive-drab tank top. A long-sleeved camouflage shirt draped loose and unbuttoned over everything, sleeves rolled up to the forearm. The woman scowled at Maya with contempt, a look dire enough to make her raise an arm to protect her face.

Don’t give me that shit, grumbled the woman. She bent forward to yank the blankets away from Maya. You’re a Citizen; I ain’t gonna feel no sorry for you.

How we lookin’? the huge man asked no one. Seconds later, he grinned. Sounds good.

The woman’s loose outer shirt sagged open as she leaned forward, grabbed a handful of Maya’s hair, and held her still for a brief but disdainful stare. Roll over, hands behind you.

Maya did as instructed, and didn’t move despite the creak of unwinding tape. She winced but kept quiet while the woman crushed her wrists together and cinched them with the sticky plasticized ribbon. A painful grip about the ribs swung her perpendicular to the bed. Maya whimpered as the angry woman gathered her legs together and wound more tape about her ankles.

A harsh slap to the back of the head silenced her.

Quiet. Damn Citizen brat. You and your kind don’t know the first thing about suffering up in this palace. Don’t you dare give me that. The more pathetic you act, the more I ain’t gonna regret this.

She lay like a loaf, offering no protest. Once the woman bit off the tape and squeezed it in place, she pulled Maya over onto her back by a fistful of fabric. She tilted her head, peering up past heaving breasts at the sweat-covered face hovering over her with an expression that asked the woman why she was being so mean. The silent plea seemed only to enrage her abductor more.

Step it up, Genna. We’re made, said the big man.

Genna’s oversized camouflage shirt shrouded the girl like a tent when she leaned her hands on the bed, on either side of Maya’s head, trying to peer out the bedroom door. Dog tags slipped out of the woman’s tank top and hit her in the face. She flinched, glaring at the dark brown arm inches from her face. The point of a black crescent moon tattoo peeked around her right shoulder. Maya cringed away from a drop of sweat landing near her eye. Genna slid backwards to her feet and shrugged a large, empty bag off her shoulder.

Are you kidnapping me? Maya whispered.

"Maldita niña, muttered the huge man. He poked the top of her head with his pistol. Shut up!"

If you’re taking me for ransom, you’re wasting your―

Genna pressed a line of tape over Maya’s mouth.

Widening yellow machine-eyes gave away a strong desire to inflict pain. Dammit, kid, you don’t listen.

The woman added a second length of tape, making an X over Maya’s mouth. Calm down, Moth. You kill her now, and we just wasted a bunch of time and effort for nothing. Took Head weeks to find this princess.

"Loco hombre de rata," Moth grumbled.

A skinny Asian man in black pants, jacket, and gloves raced into the bedroom and stumbled to his knees when he tried to stop. He had a gun out, but it seemed like a little toy compared to the one pointed at her face. Shit! Authority’s here.

The metal-armed man whirled about, aiming at him, eyes wild with panic.

Shit, Moth, the man gasped, holding his hands up. I’m not a damn Korean. Come back to now.

That was fast, said Genna, as calm as if the sons of Jeva had come bearing religious literature. Guess Headcrash is slipping.

Moth scowled at the window. He must’ve missed a sensor.

Yeah, yeah… you got the drones, Genna muttered to no one. But they found us somehow.

So? No big deal. Moth smiled and aimed at the door. All that means is this op just got a body count.

3

Exodus

Maya’s calm faltered to impotent squirming. She’d seen enough entertainment vids to believe a civilian belonged on the floor in a gunfight. An Authority Officer, head to toe in blue armor and black, full-face helmet, rushed in. Moth lurched forward in a single stomp, driving his fist into the man’s chest. Splinters of hardened resin flaked around steel knuckles on impact with a sharp, crackling crunch . The armored figure vanished out the door in the blink of an eye. His flight ended with a heavy crash in the corridor outside. Moth leveled his pistol off and fired twice, rattling the windows.

He laughed.

Genna grabbed the tape around Maya’s ankles and yanked her off the bed like a slab of meat. She hit the floor on her back and lay still, staring at the ceiling while Genna used the bed for cover, aiming a smaller handgun at the doorway. Moth rushed into the hall with frightening speed for a man of his size.

By order of the Authority, you are to surr―

Boom.

A splattering crunch followed the rapport of Moth’s gun. Minimal contact. Only a few blueberries. Pack it up, we’re moving.

An Ascendant drone whizzed past the window; the flickering orange light of muzzle flare filled the room as it fired on people outside.

The Asian man jumped over the bed and landed on his knees at Maya’s side. He glanced at her with a hollow smile. That’s a cute kid. Nice choice. Didn’t you have a boy, though?

Genna punched him in the side of the head, knocking him through a disintegrating nightstand. Maya kept herself as calm as she could manage given the continuous thunder of a gunfight in her home.

Don’t you dare bring him up! He’s got nothing to do with this, shouted Genna.

Ouch. The Asian man rubbed his jaw. It’s got everything to do with Sam, doesn’t it? That’s why you want the Xenodril. You got some kinda righteous avenger thing going on.

Fuck you, Icarus. You’re high, as usual. Remember what happens to wax wings. Genna dug her fingers into Maya’s arm and stuffed her headfirst into the bag like an object. Make one noise, kid, and you’re never going to see your mother again. You don’t gotta be alive to get ransom; they just gotta think it.

Maya went limp as the woman forced her into a fetal position and zipped the duffel closed. Her world became dark, save for a little speck of light from a pinhole in the bag on the peach-hued silk over her knees.

Hey, that’s kind of messed up, said Icarus.

Nylon tightened into a cocoon as the bag rose into the air.

What is? asked Genna.

I was gonna say we should grab her favorite doll, you know, to maybe keep her calm or some shit. But look… there ain’t a single damn one in the room.

Maybe she doesn’t like dolls, said Genna, her tone flat. I didn’t.

Anything I say to that will get me punched again.

Genna laughed. You’re a wise man, for a doser.

Yeah but… Icarus paused. "Still kinda messed. Ain’t even one toy."

The bag swayed side to side, matching the motion of the woman’s brisk walk, continually bumping Maya against her back. She squirmed in a series of tiny movements, testing the painful tightness binding her hands and feet. Coupled with the confining enclosure, she didn’t have any room to move. She doubted she possessed the strength to break free and would need to cut the tape. With nothing to do at the moment but wait, she gave up struggling.

Maya’s head struck a hard surface, presumably her bedroom’s doorjamb or the one at the end of the corridor outside it. The next several gunshots she assumed came from Genna, closer and quieter than Moth’s hand cannon. Sliding glass doors hissed, and the patter of rain on the bag told her they ran across the deck where Mother’s helicopter sometimes landed. The alien whine of a drone circled far to the left.

No, please! a distant woman screamed.

Maya tried to yell through the tape as the weight of a body hit Genna from the left, crushing her into the woman.

Gen, the pilot’s unarmed! yelled Icarus. We don’t need to kill her.

Outta my way! They’re all guilty. Genna growled and grunted, struggling to get away from him.

Maya twitched at the heavy thud of a body striking the deck nearby. A distant female scream accompanied the scuff of boots and gunshots. The bag jostled with a run for a few strides, then someone grabbed the other side and jerked them to a halt, Maya bouncing up and down. She stilled with a shift in weight. Genna seemed to be dangling from the bag rather than carrying it.

We ain’t got time for that bitch, said Moth. Killing one Authority tool ain’t gonna bring Sam back.

A meaty thump came from somewhere close.

Cute. Moth chuckled. Was that supposed to hurt?

Fuck you, Moth. Fuck you. Genna thrust her body forward, yelling, You’re lucky, bitch! Two gunshots went off. You keep running. Fuckin’ murderin’ cowards!

A short period of silence followed, punctuated by the clatter of boots on the deck. The bag swung around and fell hard on a metal plate. Maya made no sound.

Can you fly this thing? Icarus asked.

Yes, said Genna and Moth in unison.

Only to the ground, Moth muttered. Fuckers’ll track it. Still faster than the elevator.

Swarming with Authority. A new voice, tinged with static, came from overhead.

Head’s right. Genna’s voice moved away. No. I’ll take us to the edge of the Sanc.

Someone climbed past the bag, and the whump of an ass hitting a seat above and behind followed. Whining turbines gathered strength, drowning out the noise of two doors sliding closed as the beating of rotors emerged. Gravity increased for several seconds before it fell off. Turns caused the unattended duffel to slide back and forth within what Maya assumed to be a small Authority helicopter. Her body suffered the mercy of whatever metal she bumped into. Every wriggle seemed to make the tape tighten, and the cocoon-like bag squished her legs into her chest.

The uncomfortable flight ended in a few minutes. Before Maya even realized they’d landed, Genna’s muttered cursing drew close and the nylon prison sailed into the air with a harsh yank. Maya braced for impact, but hit only the woman’s back. She kept quiet and waited, bag swaying as they ran for several minutes. A handful of hard turns and sudden stops caused short periods of floating followed by crashing into the woman carrying her. Muttering surrounded her, indistinct save for Moth’s deep timbre talking to someone over a comm about which tunnel to choose.

With only sound to go by, she had no idea where she’d been taken; it felt like she’d spent hours trapped inside a bag. Sudden weightlessness lasted barely a second before her body slapped into a hard surface; she couldn’t suppress a whimper.

Hey, you just dropped a child, not a sack of gear, said Icarus. Didn’t you used to be a mother?

The toe of a boot pressed lightly against Maya’s back, stepping close to the bag. The Asian man gurgled and gasped for breath.

Genna’s voice came from right above her, in a low, threatening tone. "Look, you drugged-out piece of shit. She’s not a child. She’s a Citizen―privileged, pampered, rich, comfortable, ain’t got no damn clue what the real world is like."

Icarus wheezed and coughed. Is that her fault? What would Sam say if he saw you hittin’ on a little girl?

A body thudded into the ground close by; labored breathing rasped inches from Maya’s face.

Bitch, whispered a male voice.

The tape over her mouth prevented her from smiling

A scrape of heavy metal slid on paving in the distance. The bag went airborne again, soon squeezed against Genna by the narrow vertical shaft they descended. Echoes of boots on steel rungs, a thick, moldy smell, and total darkness, suggested a sewer. Maya hated feeling helpless. She couldn’t escape―yet―so she listened. Mother had always prided herself on her ability to find the advantage in any situation. Maya wondered how much of the trait she’d inherited.

Echoes of dripping water, squeaking rats, and boots sloshing in muck continued for quite a while with little conversation or hesitance. These people seemed to know where they were going now, without the constant need for guidance from the man on the other end of the radio.

Genna’s rhythmic gait stumbled with a blurted, Fuck!

The bag slipped off her shoulder and swung; Maya’s shins absorbed the brunt of impact with a hard post that rang out with a bell-like bong. The tape kept her scream inside.

Keep a hand on my shoulder, said Icarus. You’re in my element now, sweet cheeks.

You call me that one more time, and I’ll make a necktie out of your guts.

You wanna hit of Vesper? Open your eyes to the dark, too.

Genna lurched as though she shoved him. Keep that shit to yourself. I’d sooner get implants. She grumbled. Why’d I get stuck carrying the brat?

The clap of a hand on leather echoed into the distance.

Icarus chuckled. Must be your nurturing motherly instinct.

Swoosh.

Missed me, he said. Remember, I can see down here.

Click.

Gah! he screamed. Bitch. Great, now I’m fucking blind!

And I have a flashlight, said Genna, a hint of smile in her voice.

Icarus’s muttered curses grew distant with an irregular sloshing gait. Maya pictured him staggering along, unable to see, with a hand on the wall. Light glinted in from pinholes in the nylon; too small to offer any view of the outside, they reminded her of stars.

That sack is hangin’ like dead weight, said Moth in a deadpan voice. Make sure you didn’t kill her yet.

Maya decided she did not like Moth in particular.

The bag dropped again, but this time settled gently on the ground. The zipper opened a few inches. Maya squinted at Genna’s blinding flashlight until the stink of mildew and rot caused an involuntary convulsion.

You still alive?

Maya nodded.

Zip.

Darkness.

4

Seeds of Discord

Maya listened to the scuff of boots on dirt and paving for many long minutes, fidgeting at her bindings despite knowing it futile. Constant swinging motion during the journey might’ve rocked her to sleep had she been comfortable, but not in the middle of a kidnapping. Eventually, they jogged up a long set of switchback stairs, around and around. Soon after exiting the stairwell, the echoing scrape of a door conjured the image of a cavernous space filled with the stench of garbage, urine, and decaying meat. A few steps in, the bag landed on the floor―not quite dropped.

She lay still, curled on her side, as people moved and shuffled about for about ten minutes. Eventually, someone approached and the zipper opened. Genna knelt close with an unreadable expression. Maya squirmed enough to peer up at her, and they stared at each other for a few seconds. With a smirk, Genna pulled the bag out from under her, dumping her face down onto a large, red, moth-eaten throw rug rife with the stink of old socks. Whatever pattern the maker had woven into it had long since faded to irregular blotches accented by rat turds, one of which lay inches from her eye. Maya wriggled around and sat up, bracing her hands on the coarse fabric behind her back.

Most of the wall to her left was gone. The enormous gap revealed miles of blackened, scrapped city stretching toward a distant glittering jewel of civilization. Flames lit the dark here and there, small cook fires or things still burning from endless civil unrest. Old high-rises, bent and broken, leaned at dangerous angles. Small figures scampered among the exposed steel girders of the closest building on the left, playing in the snowy static glow of a faltering electronic billboard. The children all wore rags and dirt; few had shoes. Their small bodies climbed with practiced ease across the steel jungle, laughing and calling to each other.

A warm summer wind kept the stink of wet mold at bay and tossed Maya’s long hair out of her face. Unsure how to process the sight, she lay there on the rug, bound and gagged with tape, watching other children play. She fidgeted with a halfhearted attempt to break free while wondering how children on the verge of starvation could be happy. A distant woman’s voice called, and the feral children effortlessly glided around the exposed steel beams, scrambling one after the next into a shadowed doorway.

To the right of the breach, a glass desk nestled between the wall and a pile of junk, topped with several computers and holo-displays. Rats crept about, sniffing at wires and exploring crumb-laden plates made of old lids. Most of the systems were naked; bare wires and circuit boards lay exposed to the air, components patched and spliced into each other in ways their manufacturers had never intended.

A man in a battered rolling chair swiveled around and stared at her; wild frizzy hair twitched in the breeze, his paunch barely reined in by a grimy tank top. Vitiligo splotches of beige and pink mottled his dark brown face and hands. Blue-grey eyes widened at the sight of her. He seemed terrified of a bound nine-year-old. The chair creaked, threatening to crack as he leaned away. One of the intangible holographic panels behind him looked like a nose-cam view out of an Ascendant drone flying around her penthouse home.

She thought him an enormous rat, building a nest of trash to hide in.

Put her in the back! he wailed, pointing at her. She’s watching me.

One of the rats stood on its hind legs and put a paw on the blotchy man’s arm. He picked it up like a beloved pet and stroked its fur.

Click.

Maya looked toward the noise behind her. The black-painted blade of a combat knife scraped out of a metal sheath on Genna’s harness. A small gust rattled the wood and metal bits in her dreadlocks. The woman knelt beside her, staring down at her with a worrisome neutral expression. Maya gazed again into Genna’s eyes. Hatred had receded, though she sensed little compassion. The woman bent forward and put the knife to the tape between her ankles.

No! screamed the pudgy man, still petting the rat. She’ll kill us in our sleep. I told you not to bring her here. We needed a safe house. We could’ve set up a shipping container out in the Spread. Stashed her in that. Keep the heat away from us.

Stow it, Crash. Icarus flung himself into an old reclining chair on the near side of the rat nest. You’re a paranoid bastard. She’s just a kid.

Genna ignored the hacker’s continuing protests and cut the tape. Maya didn’t flinch as the sticky substance peeled away from her legs. She remained docile as Genna pulled her around to repeat the process and free her hands. A practiced flip of the wrist inverted the blade, and Genna slid it back in the scabbard without looking before taking her by the hand, pulling her upright, and leading her a few steps to a metal-framed bed against the interior wall, opposite the rat-nest computer desk.

Maya sat on the side, hands in her lap, wearing a sad face as though she’d been grounded. Genna held up a pair of electronic handcuffs, took one look at Maya’s tiny wrists, and pointed at the footboard. Without a word, Maya slid back and turned to put her legs closer to the frame. Genna locked one end around her left ankle and the other to the bed. The girl stared at the cold metal. A five-digit code display above a row of tiny rubber buttons smeared a red glow across her skin.

More comfortable than the tape, but equally inescapable.

She looked up at Genna and mumbled through the X.

Yeah, sure, kid. Pull it off if you want. It’ll hurt. Genna wandered off to the left and went past a disaster of a once-green sofa, heading into a hallway leading deeper into the apartment. I need a damn shower. Scream and cry all you want. No one out here is gonna give a shit.

Put her in the bathroom, Headcrash said. Or the closet. Or somewhere she can’t see us. If she can see our eyes, she’s gonna infect our minds. Spittle foamed around his teeth as he rasped, You’ve already killed us by cutting her loose.

The woman gave him a sour look and vanished behind a door, slamming it a second later.

Maya pulled her nightdress down over her knees and set to the task of peeling the tape away from her cheeks. Moth distracted the splotchy man from his ramblings about a child slitting their throats in the night by yelling at him in regards to the Authority showing up.

After wadding the removed gag into a ball, she tossed it to the floor and curled on her side. The mattress stank like wet dog, likely due to the missing wall and steady breeze of humid air. At least it was summer so she wouldn’t freeze in her nightie. She passed a few minutes flicking rat droppings off the bed while listening to the hiss of water from pipes in the walls. How long would it take Mother to realize she’d been taken and send help? Five more minutes? Ten?

"You sure you got the right kid? Cierto?" Moth’s best attempt at whispering sounded like normal speech.

Y-yes. Headcrash gestured at his terminals. I checked it eighteen times. Every site, every decoy.

"La niña don’t look much like Oman, Moth said. Skin’s too light, almond-shaped eyes, slight build."

The bitch is pretty damn skinny too, said Icarus.

Skin’s too light? Headcrash reached out to pet a rat.

Moth snarled. "No, chiflado, her mama’s dark like Genna."

Icarus laughed. She’s the same color you are, Ramirez. Maybe you her daddy.

The doser’s grin died under Moth’s glare. He broke eye contact with the giant and focused on repacking his infiltration gear.

The hissing of water pipes in the walls ended with a distant squeak. Headcrash muttered about checking numerous residences and security schedules, confident the one with fourteen guards was a fake.

Genna walked in, trailing the scent of a recent shower.

I don’t have a father. Maya’s tiny voice silenced the room. Mother ordered a custom genetic profile. A little American with select features from Southeast Asian, Sudanese, and Egyptian was combined with her egg. Mother wanted the perfect pretty face for commercials to sell medicine. She picked at the mattress for a moment before looking Genna in the eye. It’s the only time I see her… when we are recording an ad. She doesn’t even call to say good night.

For several seconds, only the distant moan of the wind through the shattered buildings broke the quiet.

Oh, my heart fucking bleeds, Moth muttered.

Genna ignored Maya’s glance, looking away and a bit downcast. The woman emitted a soft grumble a few seconds later and trudged over to the ancient couch on the left side of the room, in what had been the corner before the outside wall fell off. Moth walked out, heading down the hallway past the bathroom to the kitchenette. He took a seat at the table, barely visible around a corner of exposed cinder blocks. Sporadic clumps of drywall clung to nails wherever rotting studs remained. His shadow illustrated the procedure for disassembling and cleaning a handgun. Soon, a new chemical stink slithered over the mildewed air.

Headcrash stared at Maya for several minutes before he attempted to turn his back on her. After a series of half spins and sudden reversals, he managed to focus on his terminals again. Maya grasped the top of the foot rail with both hands and pulled herself closer, listening while fidgeting with the thin silk spaghetti strap over her right shoulder. She frowned at a small gold-colored tag. What Vanessa had paid for her nightie could feed these people for a month.

Persephone, Headcrash whispered, gathering a rat from the computer and letting it go on the desk. Resend last message.

Muted beeps simulated the clicking of keystrokes as ‘Enter Password’ appeared on the screen.

Headcrash looked at his compatriots, as if weighing their ability to overhear his whispering. Maya leaned closer, tilting her head to listen to the man a few feet away.

Quantum Reach. The words leaked from his throat, air without voice.

Maya smiled and scooted back.

Message transmit success, chimed the computer.

She lay flat and reached over her head, but the chain kept the pillow away from her. Once more, Maya curled on her side and closed her eyes. It wouldn’t be long before the Authority showed up to rescue her.

Something’s not right. From the sound of his voice, Headcrash had moved away from his desk, trying to be quiet. Look at her. She’s going to sleep, calm as a cat. Children don’t fucking do that when you kidnap them in the middle of the night!

She’s a Citizen, Genna muttered. Citizen’s don’t live in the real world. They have no goddamned clue about pain or suffering. They don’t know shit doesn’t always have a happy ending. In her little mind, she’s convinced Mommy will make good on the ransom and she’ll be home in a few hours.

Headcrash sucked air past his teeth. Then why did Ascendant Pharma ignore our first message?

Maya rolled over to face them, watching them with narrowed eyes. She tugged at her leg, more annoyed by the unwanted anklet than trying to get it off.

She has no concept of what’s happening to her or how much danger she’s really in, Genna whispered. It’s… almost kinder.

The hacker made an odd warbling noise.

Is that pity I hear? Icarus asked.

Genna gave him a close-up look at her middle finger.

Headcrash ambled across the room and curled up under his desk, behind the shifting pile of junk, clutching a rat like a stuffed animal. Genna tried to relax on the couch, but couldn’t stay in the same position for more than a minute. Maya gazed into the fabric pattern of the mattress before her eyes, almost comfortable in the sporadic bursts of warm air from the large swath of missing wall. After several long minutes, the dull clicking of interlocking metal plates sliding over each other invaded the silence. Moth trudged across the room, headed for another hallway on the right.

Do your arms hurt? Maya sat up, looking at the giant without fear.

He stopped in mid-stride, bringing a disbelieving glare around on her as though he wanted to hurt her for daring to speak to him.

I’m sorry if they hurt.

Moth exhaled through a clenched jaw. You tryin’ to grate yourself to me so I won’t kill you when we’re done?

Ingratiate, Headcrash said, pointing a rat at him. The word is ingratiate.

Moth grabbed his crotch at the hacker. "Aquí tengo su clase de inglés."

It won’t work, will it? Maya tilted her head.

The coldness in his voice left her no doubt. No.

Then it won’t matter if you tell me. How did you lose your arms? She scooted closer. If you’re going to kill me anyway, then you can be nice to me for a little while first.

Moth flexed his right arm; metal ingots scraped as his fist clenched. Songnim City. Some dink bastard with a MPRS-18 got inside our perimeter in the middle of the night. He glared at Icarus.

Son of a bitch! roared the skinny guy. I’m not a goddamn Korean, you fuckin’ cretin. Go eat some burritos or something.

Go eat some burritos? Headcrash’s barely-awake voice wafted up from the floor. That’s the best you can come up with?

Screw you, too. Icarus leaned back as if to go to sleep.

You fought in World War Three? Maya twisted her leg, appraising the cuff like an expensive bit of jewelry. Maya Oman wasn’t even born then. You must have seen bad things. So much fighting and killing. I’m sorry if you lost friends. Did you have to watch people die a lot? You must’ve killed a lot of enemies.

Moth’s electronic eyes widened with a whirr; yellow light glowed in the faint sheen of sweat upon grimy cheeks.

Do you always talk about yourself in third person, kid? Headcrash asked.

Maya gave him a blank stare before tilting her head back to peer up at Moth. His right hand twitched, sporadic rattling gestures that made him look ready to go for a gun any second. Yellow pupils had narrowed, staring at something existent only in his mind. Your name is ironic, isn’t it?

He shook off the mental cloud and snarled at her. A drop of sweat fell from his nose.

I mean, moths are small and you are not. So, it’s ironic. Maya glanced down at the mattress, idly brushing her fingers over the top of her right foot.

"It’s short for Behemoth, said Icarus. Grunts can’t handle words more than one syllable."

Blood vessels swelled out of Moth’s face; he glared. If you die, the money’s only gotta go three ways.

Knock it off, Genna said. No one is killing anyone. Not until we get paid.

Moth whirled, pointing at her. We’d be rich and on our way already if you didn’t demand so much Xeno.

Yeah, what the hell do you want it for, anyway? asked Headcrash. You got the military vac shot. Fade can’t touch you.

Ascendant sells Xenodril for two hundred bucks a dose even though it costs them under a dollar to make. I can sell it for fifty a shot and get six times what you’re asking for in cash. To them, it’s cheaper to ransom the brat in meds.

It’s a bit late for Xenodril. Sam’s dead. Moth stared a challenge at her.

Horseshit. Icarus sat up, looking annoyed by the delay of sleep. This is about your son. We all know you’re gonna give the shit away.

Genna flew from the sofa and advanced on Icarus, but Moth held her by the shoulders. She settled for punching him in the chest, not that he felt much. The big man whirled, throwing Genna like a rag doll over the couch

Hey, get off her! Icarus sprang to his feet, leaping at Moth.

Without looking, Moth caught Icarus by the throat and held him off the ground one handed. Sweat beads on the giant’s forehead slid down his face in rivulets. Amber metal irises narrowed to pinpoints. Icarus bumped the bed as Moth squeezed. Maya leapt backward, her flight cut short by the handcuff around her left ankle. She sat motionless, left leg pulled taut, while the men grappled, until a stripe of silver caught her eye.

A panel of thin plastic stuck