16.4

  The train travelling along the eastern side of the Capital is scheduled to arrive at the Core Manufacturing Node headquarters. It supposedly carries most of the materials they use to develop new technology. Why they need an item as complex as a power core, though, I don’t know. I can only assume it means Calyx Ward has something big planned. Something really big.

  Getting to the train wouldn’t necessarily be a problem. The idea is to wait until it crosses from the border into the east directly. We wire the tracks with explosives and detonate them once the front carriage passes through. The rest will bounce, sure, but they’ll eventually slow down. According to Luck of the Draw, the power core will be stored near the back, so there should be virtually no damage once all is said and done. Of course, the only other problem we run into is dealing with the security on board, because there’s going to be a lot. Which is why we gather our numbers and visit Merrin Holyfield at the church. She’s frankly surprised to see so many of us in such a short period, but she also knows who Luck of the Draw is. They worked together many years ago when he first tried assassinating Ward. Turns out Adam Smoke wiped out his entire ‘army’ and almost came close to killing him, though he was saved by the one-in-fifty-two Death Card.

  Talk about luck.

  The upgrades Merrin’s offering aren’t anything crazy, but they are useful. She has everything from Spinal Optic Relays to dermal-plated armour to cybersomatic optimisers. The last one I find particularly intriguing because it’s supposed to pair well with netrunning hardware. Merrin says the implant is attached to the frontal cortex and wired down to the operating system. Supposedly it significantly reduces the cooldown of all quick-hacks and lets you apply multiple at once. In Paxson, they call it Double-Tap. The only downside is that this particular version Merrin is offering up is twenty years old, and used. But she tells me not to worry—it’s been washed. ’Least she thinks it has.

  I could also opt for a Spinal Optic Relay, where my speed is significantly increased. I’d be able to get up close and personal before anyone has a chance to react, stick them with my mantisblade and call it a day. But it’s not really my style. I’ve always been more of a thinker than someone that just runs in and hopes for the best, even if it certainly doesn’t feel like that all the time.

  It’s also technically possible to have both, but that would be heavy on my heart. I might be special in that I’ve survived this long, but I’m certainly not special enough to avoid the harsh reality of cyberpsychosis.

  So Double-Tap it is. Fingers agrees too. Says it’s also risky because Spinal Optic Relays have a very taxing installation process. A lot of people don’t even survive the process, especially with older models.

  When I ask her what upgrade she wants, she goes for something light yet practical: smart-link palms. Fairly simplistic: they pair with auto-target modules on weapons, which is a fancy way of saying she won’t miss a shot.

  Dance, on the other hand, gets an upgrade to his optics for improved vision, along with a small netrunning micro-chip to go with his central processor. It doesn’t do much outside of letting him link up to the brickie directly. If he needs to disable any quick-hacks, he can do it without pressing a button, which should come in handy if we ever have to go up against any netrunners.

  Vander didn’t know what he wanted at first, but he eventually settled for a projectile launch system in each arm. It lets him open up the forearms and fire off grenades. It’s pretty dangerous, but I’ve seen how he uses explosives on more than one occasion; it’s frankly right up his alley.

  Riven is the odd one out. Her blood type doesn’t let her take on any upgrade at all, so she’ll have to play things very safe, and very smart, if she plans to survive any of this.

  It doesn’t take long for us to get our upgrades. An hour, and I’m asleep for my entire surgery. When I wake up, I’m a little dazed, can barely make out the lights in the undercroft, but after a couple minutes I’m on my feet again, feeling better than ever.

  For the next week we practice using our upgrades on a firing range Luck of the Draw has set up outside the rail station. It doesn’t take us long to get used to them either. We also go over the plan, visit the location where it will all go down, and map everything out.

  For the very first time, I’m actually not all that nervous about it. We have more than enough firepower to pull this off smoothly. Sure, we have to be quick, because reinforcements could show up at any point, but that’s why we have an escape route planned too.

  All I have to do is breathe and not mess up.

  Before long, it’s the day of the job.

  We ride east towards the secluded outland a couple miles from the rail station, several jeeps cutting through a seemingly endless stretch of scrub. It’s early in the morning, and the sun hasn’t yet hoisted itself over the horizon, leaving us with a creeping twilight that feels as if it’ll never end. When we make it to the turnout, we park the jeeps behind some large bushes and plant the bombs along the rails. Just your standard C4, nothing special. Luck of the Draw is squatting farther up with the detonator in his hand, ready to blow. He still has the cowboy hat, and I’m sure he feels right at home in thinking this situation is almost like something out of a wild-west movie.

  I’m not quite as fancy, still in my usual get-up, though this time I have a bullet-proof vest. Courtesy of Merrin Holyfield, because netrunning simply won’t be enough all the time.

  The train props up in the distance after about thirty minutes. Fingers places a hand on my shoulder, looks at me quite sternly, as if to say good luck out there, and presses her neural port.

  “We have eyes on the train,” she says. “Everyone in position.”

  Dance speaks through the Cloud Room: “Gettin’ too old for this shit, mate. I hope Mr. Magic knows what he’s doin’.”

  Luck of the Draw says, “Trust me: I’ve been waitin’ to blow this thing up since I was a kid.” Then, as the train gets closer, he says in a deeper, more serious tone: “Stand back. This is about to get loud.”

  The train takes the left path on the turnout. When the carriage passes over the C4, Luck of the Draw thumbs the detonator button, and the front section jumps up off the rail with a mighty boom. But rather than landing in a straight line, the carriage flips off to the side and comes rolling towards us.

  “Move!” I scream, and we leap out of the way. The carriage crashes over the slope but stops just short of its decline, hanging over it like a dead snake. Flames kick up in an enormous blaze, while the back sections are entirely intact.

  An alarm blares out from the interior of the train, but that doesn’t stop us. A good number of us hurry for the front carriage, climb through the busted cockpit window, and vault inside. It’s hot as hell in here, and smoke is already filling the place up, making everything damn near impossible to see.

  The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

  There’s silence for a moment. Then, as we step towards the door leading to the rest of the train, something sharp cuts through it. Before I can even react, one of our men has his brains blown across the ceiling.

  “Sniper,” one of our men shouts, and we duck off to the side.

  Bullets start spraying into the cockpit, and soon we’re pinned down.

  Luck of the Draw speaks through the Cloud Room: “Rhea, are you able to tap into their camera network?”

  “With this many bullets?” I shout through the spray. It’s so loud I can barely hear my own voice. “Unless you want my head blown to bits, I suggest you come up with a better idea.”

  “I can tap into ’em,” says Dance. “But only temporarily. I’ll need to wire the connection to Ol’ Mono.”

  “How do you plan to do that?” I ask.

  “Simple, mate,” he says, and I can hear the cheek in his voice. “Peek through the window. Not everything has to be a big song and dance.”

  “Be careful,” says Luck of the Draw. “There should be a camera in every cabin, near the far end.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” says Dance quickly, and moments later a ping shows up on my neural display.

  ACCEPT NETWORK TRANSFER.

  “That was quick,” I say, and accept it instantly. Soon I have access to the entire camera network on the train; I can see all the cabins and, more importantly, where all the officers are staying. A huge chunk of them are in the fifth cabin and are slowly making their way towards the front, while others are going out the sides, only to be picked off by our men one by one. It’s clear that they are pinned down just as much as we are.

  “Which cabin are they in?” asks Luck of the Draw.

  “Multiple,” I say, “but the group firing at us are in the fifth.”

  “Vander,” says Luck of the Draw, “blow up the fifth cabin. Put those launchers to good use, feller.”

  Before I have time to even plan anything further, there’s a huge explosion, shaking us off our feet. When I check the camera network again, the view from the fifth cabin is gone, and I can see from the angles on either end that it has, in fact, been blown up.

  “Nothin’ ter it,” says Vander.

  I waste no time moving farther down the train. I keep my pistol aimed, just in case someone decides to pop up from the smoke.

  Sure enough, someone does: from the side-section which has been blown to bits by Vander’s grenade. Before he has a chance to fire at me, my pistol snaps to his head and I pull the trigger. Lights out, and he falls to the ground within seconds.

  Bang!

  Something batters into my bullet-proof vest with so much force that I’m sent off my feet.

  The sniper.

  I roll out of the way just as another bullet comes slicing through.

  “What the hell are you doing, Rhea?” Fingers shouts. “You could have been fuckin’ killed!”

  “I—”

  “Don’t walk down the lane like that,” another of Luck’s goons shouts. “We need to find out where the sniper is and blow up his cabin. That makes sense to me!”

  It makes sense to me too. I was just stupid. Really stupid.

  More bullets come flying down the middle of the train, and we rush to the sides. I open up the camera network again, this time looking through all twenty cabins for someone with a sniper; some of the rooms are so dark it’s nearly impossible to make out anything at all. But eventually I notice someone with a long, thermal-scoped rifle propped up on a riot shield, aiming through a small gap in front of a door.

  It should be simple: blow up the cabin, get rid of him.

  There’s only one problem: he’s at the very end of the train, where all the high-value storage is, and if my eyes aren’t mistaking me, the power core is wrapped up right in the middle of the cabin.

  If we blow it up, we blow up the power core.

  I explain this to the others.

  “Shit,” says Luck of the Draw. “How many grenades do you have stowed away, Vander?”

  “Eight left,” he says. “Nowhere ner enough to cler the whole way dern.”

  “I have no idea what that feller just said but we’ll need to time the sniper’s reloads if we want any hope of makin’ it down,” he says.

  “Which means what exactly?” I ask, and begin to cough. My neural display displays a warning for carbon monoxide levels. “We gotta risk getting shot?”

  “A thermal sniper has about five rounds in it,” Fingers says. “He’s already shot three, meanin’ we can bait two more out of him and run for the back. Somethin’ that big is bound to take a while to reload. Right, Luck?”

  “Smart girl,” says Luck of the Draw. “The problem is the bait part.”

  Another explosion, this one more violent than before. Vander takes out the next couple cabins up. The entire train starts to tilt to one side, not completely, but enough to move me off my step. Soon I’m sent into the centre of the doorway, and a bullet slams into my chest again, knocking me to the side.

  Which gives me an idea.

  One more bullet left, and we’ll be able to make decent ground.

  I grab one of the security unit’s corpses, the same one I’d killed, and take off my bullet-proof vest.

  “What are you doin’?” asks Fingers.

  I bring the corpse up against my legs and place the vest over his torso. “Fingers,” I say, “you trust me?”

  More bullets start spraying as units push up and shout to open fire.

  Fingers looks at me with curious wonder, her mouth gaped into a miniature ‘O’, as she realises what I’m about to do.

  I pull the corpse up to his feet, keeping him steady by grabbing his neck. “Follow me,” I say, and then begin walking the corpse out into the doorway.

  Another explosion goes off, clearing the cabins ahead.

  Then comes the sniper shot through the smoke, only this time I’m not knocked off my feet. It hits the chest of the corpse, and then I sprint forward with it.

  And Vander keeps clearing the path forward. Until eventually the sniper reloads, and he aims low this time.

  I step off to the side right as he’s about to pull the trigger.

  But Fingers doesn’t.

  The bullet slices through the middle of the train.

  Fingers’ foot is blown clean off the ankle.

  “FUCK!” she screams in agony, rolling towards me.

  “Fingers!” I cry, and then pull her towards me. We rest up against the side of the train while more bullets spray in our direction.

  She looks up at me, gritting her teeth and groaning. I look down at the bloody stump where her foot once was.

  “I need aid,” I shout. “Virothene, bandages—anything, just hurry the fuck up!”

  Fingers lets out another groan. “Guess this was bound to happen eventually, huh?”

  “Fingers, stop,” I say, and one of the men tosses me a syringe, one of Dance’s red injections. I stick it into her leg and thumb the plunger. Then one of the men throws me a medkit.

  “You’re…” she says. “I’m about to pass out, Rhea. I don’t think—” She sucks in pain. “—it’s enough.”

  “It’s enough,” I say, opening the medkit and pulling out a medical towel. “Keep your leg up—reduces blood flow.” I put the towel over her stump; the blood is so extreme it soaks into the cloth instantly and pools down my hand. “You’re okay, babe,” I say with panic.

  “What the fuck is goin’ on in there?” Dance says through the Cloud Room. “Back-up will be here any minute!”

  I shout with rage, “Keep your mouth shut, you useless cunt!”

  Fingers places her hand on my cheek. “Rhea,” she says. “I’m gonna pass out. If I die…”

  “Stop it,” I say, taking a shaky breath. “Listen to me: you’ll be fine. I stopped the blood flow.” I take a tourniquet out of the medkit and wrap it around her leg as tight as I possibly can. Then I reach into my pocket and pull out an MX inhaler. I bring it to her lips and press the injector. “Just stay awake.” I look at the other men. “I want you to turn back. Bring her to a tech surgeon.”

  “What?” one the men says. “Are you crazy? You’re not gettin’ near that guy without our help.”

  “Trust me,” I say. “I’ll be okay. Just bring her. Right now, out through the side.”

  The two men look at each other, as if perplexed. They check with Luck of the Draw through the holo, and after a moment he confirms it’s the right call, so they reach down and bring Fingers up.

  She’s still awake when I place my hand behind her head, kiss her on the forehead, and say, “I love you.”

  They drag her out through the shattered side of the cabin, past the flames, and towards one of the jeeps.

  I turn in the direction of the sniper, haul up the corpse with the bulletproof armour once more, and say, “I’m gonna fucking kill you.”