As they walked around the city, skirted the crowds, and took in all the neon lights, the ghost materialized like an unwanted house guest. Evie didn’t say anything, but hovered over every action—each caress of a hand on another, the flash of a cute smile caught in an iris, a nudge of a shoulder, a hug, a pointed finger, it all passed through the ghost’s hungry eyes. Malory did her best to ignore it. While she’d grown used to the extra presence, something about the dead woman intruding on their intimacy felt far more invasive than the implant altering her neurons to try and influence her actions. The discomfort sent her off-kilter and threatened to let the rage free. In an act of defiance, or of reclamation, Malory came to a stop in front of a billboard advertising Energo Lunar’s defunct Helium-3 energy supplies that had been vandalized by les Fant?mes graffiti and kissed Nadia with all the passion she had. Time froze, the two of them entangled deep in the city of dead dreams. There was nothing in the world but the two of them, a soft touch, and the scent of skin. A moment, another, two figures framed by a billboard of the corporation that destroyed the moon. When they finally parted, ZenTech rang through Mal’s network.
“Hello?” she answered. Her lips were wet, and she wiped them clean with the back of her hand. The ghost disappeared from her periphery when the call connected. The crowd continued to part around them.
“Test completion has been confirmed,” a bored voice said. They were reading from a prepared script, and did not deviate. “Amnesty for any and all actions against ZenTech interests has been applied, and a squad is waiting to act upon your provided intelligence. Please make your way to the designated staging area and take part in the operation. Further compensation will be provided upon completion.”
// NEW COORDINATES RECEIVED
// LOADING…
//
// PROCEED TO THE ROUTE
“I have to go,” Mal said. She hesitated a moment, then lifted Nadia into a desperate hug. “If I don’t come back, cross my name off the tower with the others.”
“No,” Nadia said. She squirmed until Malory let her go. “None of that doomed hero bullshit. You are important to me, and we are going to find your sister together when you’re done. You go kill that fuck, and then get your ass back to me alive, or I’ll kill you myself.”
“Okay,” Mal laughed. Something inside her shifted, a burning radiance that shined underneath the rage. It confused her for a moment until she recognized it as hope—for the future, a love, the moon stitched back together, and the city changed forever. “I’ll be right back.”
“That’s more like it.” Nadia slapped her on the ass as they went their separate ways. Nothing was guaranteed, and they both knew it might have been their last moment. Neither said goodbye.
The meeting place wasn’t at ZenTech tower like Malory expected. Instead, she found herself in the outer edge of city center where she had to contend with the density of people going about their day. The implant whirred as it spat out little blue labels for everyone, and they blended and faded away before she could read them. There were so many, and almost all of them were unwilling to look up from their lives to take a stand for what was right. They were content with the slop, with existing as cogs inside an uncaring system that wouldn’t hesitate to ruin them on a whim. It was a perfect portrait of humanity, beaten into submission for fear of losing whatever scraps they had. After the prophet’s failed uprising so many years ago, the city government invested their fortunes to make sure it would never repeat—any sign of weakness in the facade was rectified. On every corner of city center, heavy-duty drones kept watch, waiting for unrest. Even the mercenary guild refused anti-government contracts on principle; no one fucked with elected officials. It was just a fact of life. It was absolute, and Malory knew it needed to change. The GPS led her to an unassuming concrete parking garage, and she headed for the roof when she entered.
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At the top, there was a dreadful military AV with a dozen heavy machine-gun turrets mounted to its frame. Below, two payload launchers waited to unleash whatever explosives were loaded. Dealer’s choice. Nearby, tables and racks overflowed with gear for the mission—it was a cheap mobile armory as far as ZenTech was concerned, but it was comparable to all the might on offer in Purgatory. It gave Malory a headache when she realized she’d tried to fight against the collective wealth of a megacorporation that had pillaged the planet down to its last morsel, but she didn’t regret it. They were still an enemy as far as she was concerned, and she was only using them as a means to an end. Nearby, a squad of grizzled veterans congregated around the weapons and equipped themselves for the operation, and their body armor was meant to hold fast even when subjected to armor-piercing rounds. They grabbed rifles, grenades, extra magazines, flares, whatever they could carry. They moved with well-practiced expertise, and none of them spoke. At Malory’s approach, a tall woman with close-cut hair peeled off from the others and stood in her way. She was the operation commander, and her expression was nothing but hard lines. The veins in her thick neck moved like worms when she talked.
“Location data,” the commander said. Her accent was thick, but it wasn’t a request. She had yet to don her armor, and powerful muscles roiled through her undersuit as she tossed Malory a blank memory chip.
“Sure,” Mal said. She caught the chip in her metal hand, slotted it into her neck, and copied the file of her journey back to the city. There was an awkward moment where they sized each other up, and when the transfer was complete, she pulled it out and tossed it back. She ran the murder math a dozen times in her mind as she waited for direction, and knew she couldn’t take the commander in a fair fight.
“Right,” the woman said. Her eyes glowed blue as she watched the footage. She ran a program to scan the footage and extrapolate it into a path they could use. “All set. Grab whatever gear you want and get on board. Keep to yourself. If you distract my men en route, I won’t hesitate to throw you overboard.
“Okay,” Mal said. She did as she was told and looked at the weapons. She ignored the blue labels the implant gave each squad member. If they were trusted with such an important mission, they were bootlickers through and through, and Malory thought it would be ideal if they all died in the process.
Malory took a few extra magazines for the Lantern and a drum-fed shotgun designed for maximum damage. She visualized the holes it could open in a chest and smiled. All its markings had been filed off before it was coated in flat black paint—she missed the grenade launcher the Doc had given her, but as far as she could remember, it was abandoned somewhere in the outskirts. She didn’t bother with anything else since she expected the squad and the AV to do most of the work. The only thing she cared about was killing the Stranger herself. As she climbed in and strapped into one of the seats, she turned her attention to Faraday who was still somewhere in the depths of the compound. Mal gave it a new directive to search for ways to sabotage the old facility. It would be for the best if she could ensure the Black Hands were all forced into the shoddy surface encampment. While she was focused on the feed window, the rest of the squad boarded. They smelled of sweat and hardened nerves, but the man across from her obsessed over a little locket with pictures of his family. There was no countdown. The engines kicked in and lifted them off the parking garage to climb high over New Detroit.
The flight would have been peaceful if not for the roar of the wind and the rattle of metal panels behind the seats. Out of one of the windows, Malory kept track of their passage. She watched each skyscraper and megabuilding grow smaller until they were gone from view. They passed through the energy field of the wall without issue, and then there was nothing but rugged wilderness as far as the eye could see. The pilots followed Malory’s provided route with unerring precision. Halfway through the journey, two of the squad members started playing rock paper scissors to pass the time. There was no objective, or anything to be won, but they kept score anyway. Malory found herself wondering what circumstances had led to them becoming corporate dogs, but she couldn’t think of anything that would allow her to stomach such an indignity without putting a gun in her mouth. When they drew close to the final destination, the commander stood and steadied herself near the door so she would be the first one out. She didn’t need to give a speech, and when gravity gave way as the AV dived to rain down its first payload, Mal’s stomach clenched. She let the rage overtake her and her vision narrowed to a slit. Above it all, fragments of the dead moon collided and redirected to where they were always meant to be.
