“More like the professional finder of secrets. Not that I’m complaining. The work you and your team do makes the galaxy a safer place.” Kit’s normally cheerful expression turned solemn. “You know why our bar is called the Nova Club?”
“No, actually.”
“It’s not a coincidence. My batch siblings and I were freed without any issues, but we know many weren’t. Nova Force were the ones who put their lives on the line to save the cyborgs from the corporations. We named the club for all of you.”
Eric let that sink in, a little stunned. “You never said anything before. Do the others know?”
“I’ve never mentioned it to anyone until now. I just thought you looked like you could use a bit of good news.” Kit leaned in. “Memories?”
“Yeah.”
Kit’s family had been Echo’s employers. They’d been wounded by her betrayal too.
“You getting anywhere with your side project?”
Eric took another pull at his drink before answering. It didn’t totally wash away the bitter taste of defeat, but it helped. “It’s slow going.”
“Echo believed in you. If anyone can find this Nyx person, it’s you.”
“A couple of months ago, I’d have agreed with you.” He mustered a grin. “I’m one of the best at what I do, after all, but there’s someone out there who’s at least as good as I am, and they don’t have to play by the rules I do.” And that was the fraxxing problem. He was bound by galactic law and military protocol.
Kit grunted in commiseration. “It’s frustrating, but you’ll think of something. It’s what you guys do, right?” More guests approached the bar, and Kit stepped away to serve them, leaving Eric alone with his thoughts.
Protecting people from the corporations was what they were supposed to do, but he hadn’t done that for Echo. She’d left him one last message, and her words still haunted him.
“I’m sorry, Eric. What we had was never meant to be. I was dead before we ever met. If I meant anything at all to you, save her. You’re the only one who can.”
Save her. He’d been trying for months, but so far he hadn’t been able to find Nyx, never mind mount a rescue. Her name had been in the files Echo had given to his side just before she died, but a name was all he had. That, and a mention of something called the Fury Project, which appeared to be related to the creation of cyborg assassins like Echo.
So far, he hadn’t found anything that the higher-ups would accept as actionable intel, and every time he got close to something solid, the trail would fizzle out faster than a shooting star. Someone was playing games with him, and he was running out of moves.
He stared into the dark crimson liquid at the bottom of his glass. No, that wasn’t accurate. He was out of legal moves.
He drained the last of his drink and stood, suddenly certain of what his next move would be, and the risks that came with it. He’d joined the IAF to avoid going to prison, and they watched him carefully to make sure he didn’t revert back to old habits.
If he was going to do this his way, he’d have to be smart about it. Good thing he was one of the best hackers in the galaxy, or this might be a challenge. He could almost feel his data ports tingling in anticipation. He was going to find this missing cyborg and fulfill a dying woman’s last request. He hadn’t been able to save Echo, but he would save Nyx.
Chapter Two
Old habits really do die hard.
Eric was done playing by the IAF’s rules. It was time to get this done – his way.
It had taken him less than an hour to find an abandoned data node on one of the maintenance levels, secure the area, and set up a simple warning system to alert him if anyone came too close.
Once that was done, he jacked himself into the station’s systems, being careful not to trigger any of the security measures put in place to stop anyone from doing exactly what he was about to do.
Fortunately for him, he was one of the people who had helped put those measures in place.
It had been a few weeks since he’d last entered cyberspace, and he indulged himself in a few glorious moments of pure freedom before getting to work. It was impossible to explain the digital world to the normals. They were grounded in reality, where data was linear and the laws of physics held sway. When he was jacked-in, he was free in a way other beings could never be. He could soar without wings, dive into oceans of data, and change his reality with a thought or a wave of his hand.
This is what the others couldn’t understand. They thought he was a freak because of his implants—a data junky who had to be protected from his own abilities. That wasn’t true. It wasn’t information he craved, it was the freedom. There were no rules in this place, no restrictions. Leaving cyberspace for reality was like waking from a wonderful dream and being dumped straight into an ice bath on a high gravity world. The transition sucked rocket-fumes and every movement was too slow and took too much effort.
He revelled in his few minutes of digital delight, zipping through the station’s datasphere and dancing across digital rivers of information that flowed through the system like ribbons of light. As tempting as it was to stay, it wasn’t safe to linger too long, so eventually he went to the digital fortress he’d built for himself inside cyberspace and got to work. A data matrix containing everything he knew about Nyx, who might have her, and where she might be located was already there within the fortress, but this time he didn’t stick to authorized methods. He sent out an army of digital sprites to pry loose information from every source he could think of, every one of them capable of hacking systems and bringing down firewalls on their own. It was highly illegal technology, banned throughout the galaxy. If he was caught using it, he’d be back in a cell so fast he’d break the sound barrier.
Of course, that hadn’t stopped him from hiding the software instead of handing it over when he was arrested the first time, and it wasn’t going to stop him from using it now.
Once the sprites were on their way, he unplugged himself and braced for the unpleasant transition to what he thought of as ‘slow-time.’ Reality. Ugh.
After that, he packed up and went back to the team’s ship, the Malora. It was where he spent most of his off-duty time, tucked into the cubby he’d claimed for himself. It was his workshop and office, crammed full of equipment he’d scavenged, some of it repairable, most of it only useful as spare parts for new projects. Some of those projects were not exactly Nova Force approved, so he kept those hidden and only worked on them when he knew he wouldn’t be interrupted. He had plenty of other work to do in the meantime. It kept his hands and his mind engaged, and he donated the refurbished gadgets and toys he built to the only school on the station.
He was repairing a racing hover-bot when Lieutenant Commander Kurt Meyer walked up to the open doorway and rapped on the metal frame. “You got a minute?”
“Yes, sir.”
There was barely room for another person in his cubby, but Kurt came inside and leaned up against the bulkhead, somehow fitting himself into the available space. “What are you working on?”
And wasn’t that a loaded question. Eric opted to go with the obvious answer and hope like hell he hadn’t been caught already. Kurt had an annoying ability to know far more than he should about what every member of the team was up to at any given time. Eric lifted the small bot off his worktable. “The kids sent this poor thing hurtling into one wall too many. I’m putting it back together for them, and this time I’m adding more padding, so it survives longer between repairs.”