It was designed to kill us instantly.
The only reason we survived was because they didn’t count on Remi, who is far more skilled and powerful than their size or age would suggest.
Someone wants us dead. Us specifically.
Because we were sent here, to the only known source of maz-15. If I hadn’t taken that job, that awful too-good-to-be-true final job, we wouldn’t have been tapping this exact pipe, in exactly the right area to be caught in this trap.
This whole thing was a setup.
My brain whirls into high gear, suddenly a thousand times lighter and flying a mile a minute. I download a complete dump of all the data to my deck, then share the relevant code with Davon.
“You see what I see?” I ask as I yank my cables free. When I look up, his expression is dark.
“Someone broke in and installed that device specifically to target you all,” he says.
“Specifically to kill us,” I correct. “Thousands of units of firaz to the face isn’t all that conducive to living.”
He checks the code again and his mouth presses into a hard line.
Yes, someone actually tried to kill us. They probably sent the guy who offered us the job to find me, made sure we’d be coming back to this spot. Those bastards.
They could have killed my friends. Remi, Ania, and Jaesin, they almost killed them.
But why?
“I have to get back to the others,” I say, shoving my deck in my pocket. “They have to know.”
Davon shakes his head slowly as I push past him to get at the pressure regulator—the evidence—with my screwdriver.
“Whoa, whoa, can we slow down for a second?” he asks. “Let’s stop and think.”
I pause with my cables half coiled to stuff back in my pocket and look up. “What’s there to think about?”
He sighs, looks to the ceiling for a moment, then comes forward and puts both hands on my shoulders again, the way my mom used to when she had something serious to say.
“I think you need to leave that unit right where it is.” I open my mouth to protest, but he cuts me off with a gesture. “Hear me out. Right now, it’s a critical piece of evidence that proves you weren’t responsible for the disaster at the station. If you remove it, then when the MMC crews come to investigate, they won’t find anything to exonerate you. I just . . .”
He pulls me into his chest like he did earlier in the night, but this time it makes my skin itch. I’m vibrating with the need to move, to run, to do something.
“Someone tried to kill you, Dizzy,” he continues, voice strangled. “And you did something really illegal. You’re in a bad position, maybe even more than you realize. This city is just looking for reasons to put orphans like us in custody so they can serve us with mandatory work orders, force us into the factories or into sanitation or whatever. A court could ban you from touching a deck again for years, Diz.”
It’s like a hook in my gut, tugging me open and spilling me out over the filthy sewer ground. I can’t go without my deck. Coding is complicated, immersive, powerful . . . distracting. It’s what I’m good at. It’s everything.
But my friends . . . they’re everything too. If they aren’t already gone.
I have to get back to them.
I shake my head and shove the cables in my pocket, but step away from the auxiliary pressure unit. “Fine. I’ll leave the box, but I at least have to let my friends know. I can’t let them carry this around, thinking they killed all those people. And they need to know that someone’s after us.”
“And then? After that?” Davon asks.
“I DON’T KNOW,” I snap, far louder than is really smart, given the circumstances. But I don’t care. Can’t care. It’s all so much. My head’s louder than the most crowded club in town, and I can barely think.
Davon watches me with a careful expression, automatically switching to Diz Gloves mode. Caution: Watch for thorns. Handle with care. He purses his lips, then nods. “MMC could take care of you, you know. If you take the job. You wouldn’t be the first black-market siphoner they’ve hired. They could use your skills.”
“Before, yeah, sure.” I bite my lip and look away, taking one breath, two. Time to let myself admit it out loud. The truth that doesn’t matter anymore.
“I was gonna take the job, you know. I really was. But now that my last siphoning job blew up one of their stations and killed some of their employees? Not gonna happen.”
“But it wasn’t you. The evidence is right here. I know the people in charge of IT, Diz, and they’ll be reasonable. I’ll tell them where to look for the evidence, and they’ll look. They’ll find it, and they’ll come to the same conclusion you did. And they’ll hire you, because you’re amazing at what you do, and they’ll protect you, because MMC protects its own. They need people like you, and you need them. You have a sweet deal here. And it’s not off the table yet.”
“DOWN HERE!” a harsh voice shouts from the direction of the station. Far down the tunnel, three lights bob and grow larger as the sound of splashing boots draws closer. The ominous click of weapons being readied sends a jolt of adrenaline straight to my heart. Davon’s eyes go wide, and he takes me by the shoulders.
“Go,” he says, nearly a whisper. “I have my badge with me. I’ll tell them I was investigating the accident.”
“No, you’ll get in trouble, you’ll lose your job,” I say, gripping his sleeves and trying to drag him with me. I can’t have that on my conscience too. His job means so much to him.
“I won’t,” he says, giving me a gentle shove away. “I’ve got good security clearance. It’ll be fine. Go!”
I hesitate another second longer, then finally turn and take off with reluctant steps in the opposite direction.
Please let him be okay. The rhythm of every footfall is filled with my silent begging. Please, please, please, please. Once I’m far enough away, I reach into my pocket and lob my tiny drone into the air to scout the tunnels ahead for more MMC security guards. A moment later, a notification pops up in my lenses.
Davon: I’m fine. They believed me, and we’re cataloging the evidence together now. They’ll know it wasn’t your fault.
Please message me later, Diz. I’m serious.
I still want you to stay here and work with me. We’re family, right? It’ll be fine. Your job offer is still safe. I’ll take care of you. Promise.
I bark a harsh laugh in the echoing cavern of the sewer tunnel.
Yeah. Right. I’m sure Davon believes all of that with his whole heart, but I wouldn’t take that job if they offered me a million credits.
Because I’m pretty sure it’s Maz Management that wants us dead in the first place.
Thirteen
THE SUN IS WELL ON its way to full morning, turning everything to golden softness, by the time I finally get back to Ania’s neighborhood, ready to collapse.
I walked. The whole way. My feet ache with blisters, and my legs are screaming at me to just sit the hell down already.
I nearly caved and called a RidePod no less than seven times, thinking I’d just risk creating a new profile to link to one of our shell bank accounts. Too dangerous, though. Not when I’m still the only one of our group who knows what happened. Call me paranoid, but I even kept silent on messaging and calls all night too. Didn’t wanna be tracked or intercepted. The downside of being a hacker—you know exactly how insecure all your info really is.