Gun shakes his head, looking at me with a sad expression.

  “This is my decision, Sulan,” Billy says. “I’m doing this for our family. We’re all dead if you and I don’t escape with our intel.”

  I slump onto the floor, dropping my head into my arms.

  Taro. Mom. Dad. Agnus. Maxwell. They’re all out there, somewhere.

  And we’re leaving them behind.

  20

  Pursuit

  I give myself several precious minutes to grieve, reminding myself Taro and the others are survivors. They just have to hang on long enough for us to get back to them with reinforcements.

  We’ll be back, I promise silently. I hate Billy for being right almost as much as I admire him for being strong enough to make the hard choice.

  I take a few steadying breaths, drying my eyes and nose on the sleeve of my new snowsuit. Then, I take all my grief and lock it up tight. Now is the time for focus and survival. It’s going to take all three of us to get out of this mess intact.

  “I’m sorry we had to leave them,” Gun rasps. He pulls some gauze out of the med kit and uses it to wipe up his vomit. “We’ll go back for them. You have my word.”

  I look at him, drying the last of my tears. His face is pale and clammy.

  “You don’t look good.” I feel like an idiot as soon as the words leave my mouth. Of course he doesn’t look good; he’s going through Skeletex withdrawals. I should offer to get him water or a blanket, but I can’t bring myself to be charitable.

  Gun gives me a rueful smile. “I had hoped our first real-world meeting would be under better circumstances.”

  “How long will the withdrawal last?” I ask, refusing to be drawn into his attempts at friendliness.

  “The longer you’re in the Skeletex, the longer the withdrawals. The greater your exertion while wearing it, the harder the withdrawals. I sprinted for almost two hours to get here before Global captured you.” He shakes his head. “I’ll be all right. It feels a lot like having the stomach flu.”

  Even though I’m trying my best not to care, concern creeps in. “Is the suit safe to wear?”

  “Safe enough,” Gun replies. “I’m still alive. To be honest, the suit is still early in its development stage.” He holds out his hand, showing me the small silver connectors in all his finger joints. I realize the connector ports must be all over his body.

  “Gun, why?” I whisper. “Why did your father do this to you?”

  Gun laughs without humor, flexing his hands. “My father was ready to kill me when he found out I blackmailed our lead scientist into performing the implant procedure on me.”

  My mouth goes dry. My throat constricts. “You did this on purpose?” I whisper. “Why?”

  His blue eyes meet mine. “I knew it was only a matter of time before my Short Stuff would need me. I intended to be ready when I got the call.”

  I turn away to hide the stinging in my eyes. I’m supposed to hate Gun. Or, at the very least, keep him at a businesslike distance. This new revelation makes me feel all sorts of things I don’t want to feel: Guilt. Affection. Sadness.

  He could be lying. He may have undergone the procedure for any number of reasons. For his company. For his father. For his own rich-boy ego.

  But I know in my gut he did it for me. He altered his body—risked a new technology—for me. The knowledge makes me feel ill.

  “I could use some help up here,” Billy calls from the pilot’s cabin. “Someone needs to shoot down a Gav.”

  “I’ll do it.” No need to advertise the fact I’ve never been in an ornithropter before, let alone fired any of its weapons. If Billy can pilot one, I can figure out how to use its defense system.

  I scramble into the cockpit, staring at the heads-up display—also known as a HUD—on the windshield. Below is a panel with an array of buttons, gauges, and additional screens.

  “Put on the headset. The weapons will track where you’re looking,” Gun says from the back. “Fire the main cannon with the red index finger button on the stick. Missiles are fired with the thumb button on top. It’s simple: just look and shoot. Billy, do you have the cloak activated?”

  “Yeah. But Global is right behind us. The Gavs are quiet enough that they may be able to follow us by sound.”

  I take hold of the large black joystick in the center of the copilot console. It has a three-hundred-sixty-degree range, allowing me to aim the ornithropter’s weapons.

  “How many missiles do we have?” I ask.

  “Four total, but I already used two on the way here. We need to save them if we can. Stick to the using the rear cannon. Not to put any added pressure on you, but don’t forget about Global’s dragnet. It’s one hundred miles east. That’s how they caught us on our way in. It wouldn’t hurt to have ammunition to help us get through it.” Gun coughs.

  A glance over my shoulder shows him slumped on the floor. He looks even paler than he did a few minutes ago.

  “Understood,” is all I say, knowing I can’t worry about him now.

  “Anytime now, Sulan,” Billy says. “They’re gaining on us.”

  I switch the HUD to rear view. I narrow my focus on the screen, which displays live footage of the Gav behind us. I take the stick in hand, carefully locking my gaze as the Gav pumps its great blue-black wings.

  On the screen before me, I see a merc lean out of an open side of the Gav. The man balances something large and black on his shoulder.

  “Oh, crap.” Sweat sprouts along my brow. “They have a rocket launcher, too.”

  “They’ll have to time their shot between the wing sweeps, or risk disabling their Gav.” Billy’s voice is calm and reassuring. “The Gav is not made for forward fire.”

  That may be the case, but my hands are still slick with sweat. I bite my lip, willing myself to relax.

  One shot, I tell myself. Make it count.

  I’m not fast enough. Just as I get the crosshairs lined up, the Global merc fires. An alarm blares.

  “Incoming!” Gun shouts. “Pull up!”

  Billy sends the ornithropter on an abrupt ascent, throwing me back into my seat. Below us, a missile detonates. The force of it propels us upward. I yelp, grabbing onto the armrests. The seat belt cuts into me. Billy grips the steering yoke with both hands, fighting to straighten out the ornithropter. After a long, heart-pounding sixty seconds, he manages to right it.

  “Good flying,” Gun says. He’s moved onto one of the benches and buckled himself in.

  “Too close for comfort,” Billy mutters. “Sulan, you have to take them out.”

  “Ignore what I said about saving the missiles,” Gun says. “They won’t do us any good if we’re dead.”

  I nod. No more fear. There is no time for fear. There is only time for action.

  Once again, I line up the Gav in the crosshairs. The merc leans out the side a second time, readying another missile.

  “Not this time,” I mutter, and slam my thumb down on the stick’s top button.

  Outside the ornithropter, the missile roars to life. It streaks through the sky, leaving behind an orange-white trail of flame.

  When it hits the Gav, I force myself to watch. The biological tank explodes in a spray of red. The flames from the missile engulf the creature in a ball of orange, the light so blinding I have no choice but to look away.

  I just killed men and an animal. The knowledge hollows me out.

  “You didn’t have a choice,” Gun says. “It was either us or them, Short Stuff.”

  I hate that fact that he knows how I’m feeling. Even more so, I hate that he knows what to say. It makes me feel exposed. There was a time when I wouldn’t have minded, but now it leaves me unsettled.

  ***

  The post-stem crash is right on schedule. The telltale tingling is in my hands and feet. The wounds in my leg and back are making themselves known.

  My discomfort is nothing compared to Gun’s. He’s passed out in the back, his body quivering and dripping with sweat. I don’t want to admit I’m worried about him, but I find myself repeatedly turning around to check on him. I might be angry with him, but that doesn’t mean I want him to die.

  Finally, I give up pretending and unbuckle my seat belt, crossing into the back of the ornithropter. I press a hand to his forehead. His skin burns beneath my skin. I pull an extra blanket from under one of the benches and add it to the two already covering him.

  “Should I give him something for the fever?” I ask Billy.

  “He would have told us if he needs medicine. Remember, he said he’s going through withdrawal.”

  “He just looks so bad,” I murmur.

  Gun’s blue eyes open. They’re red and glassy. “Short Stuff,” he whispers. He reaches up and grasps my hand.

  We’ve done this so many times in Vex, often while using Touch. But feeling his real-world flesh against mine is not something I’m prepared for. I pull my hand away.

  “Is there anything I can give you to help relieve the symptoms?” I ask.

  “Water.”

  “Where is it?”

  “Cooler box in the back.”

  I get three bottles for him, putting one into his hand and tucking the other two between his body and the back of the bench.

  “Do you need more blankets?”

  Before Gun can answer, Billy says, “I can see the dragnet on the Imager. It’s ten minutes out. The Gavs are spaced two miles apart.”

  “They’re going to try and hit us with the EMP again,” Gun says weakly. “They’ll deploy as soon as they hear us.”

  I say nothing, clenching clammy hands into fists and fighting the stim withdrawal. Cold sweat tingles down my back and chest. My eyelids are heavy.

  “Do we have enough fuel to go around them?” Billy asks.

  “No,” Gun says.

  “Can they see us on their radar?”

  “No, but like I said, they can hear us. That’s how they found us before.”

  “We need a plan.” Billy pulls back on the throttle, slowing down. “We can’t just fly straight into them.”

  “We need a distraction,” I say. “Something to draw them away and open a hole in the dragnet.” My entire body is starting to ache. I close my eyes and lean my head back on the seat rest.

  “Sulan?” Billy asks. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” My mind made up, I fish the second stim out of my pocket.

  Billy sees it in my hand. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “Is what a good idea?” Gun asks sharply.

  We both ignore him.

  “There’s no choice,” I say. “We need all hands to make it through the dragnet. We already have one fighter out of commission. We can’t have two.”

  “Will someone tell me what you two are talking about?” Despite how weak he is, Gun manages to put force into his words.

  Ignoring him, I press the second stim against my neck.

  “Bad idea, Sulan,” Billy says.

  I depress the plunger. There’s a brief bite of pain as the second stim is injected.

  The effect is staggering. It’s like a giant paddle smacking me across the face. My ears ring. My heart races. My head buzzes. Any lingering physical discomfort, including the cold, is sucked away. I feel like I could run twenty miles on my bum leg and not break a sweat.

  “Sulan, how many stims have you taken today?” Gun asks.

  “Two.”

  He exhales sharply. “You do know you’re going to pay for that decision, right? You’re going to be just like me in another few hours.”

  “As long as we’re alive in another hour, I’m fine with that.”

  I study the Imager, thanking Dad’s brilliance for its creation. The red dots of the Global dragnet are like red rubies on a necklace. Thanks to the stim, my mind is clear, allowing me to assess to the situation.

  “How far away is the southern edge of the dragnet?” I ask.

  “Seventy-five miles,” Billy answers.

  “Turn around,” I say. “I have an idea.” I explain my plan, laying out each point. When I finish, both boys stare at me. “It’s a good idea,” I say, defensive.

  “It is a good idea,” Gun says. “There are only two problems with it. One, it’s crazy. Two, we don’t have the fuel for it.”

  “Don’t worry about the fuel,” Billy says. “I can take care of that.”

  I frown at him. “What, do you have some in your pockets?”

  “I know a place.” It’s clear from the way he looks away from me that he won’t say more. At least, not yet.

  If it’s one thing I’ve developed over the past few weeks, it’s complete trust in Billy Long. If he tells me not to worry about fuel, I won’t worry about fuel.

  “So are you both up for crazy?” I ask.

  Gun closes his eyes. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Short Stuff.”

  Billy grins and turns the ornithropter around.

  21

  Dragnet

  The plan is simple: remove the last missile from the ornithropter, plant it in an isolated location, and then launch it at one of the Gavs. Some of the remaining Gavs will naturally follow the missile back to its source, which will leave an opening in the dragnet. By the time they discover our ploy, we’ll be long gone.

  This is the plan, anyway.

  “There’s a third problem with my plan,” I say, grunting under the strain of the missile. “This thing is heavy.”

  “Too bad Gun is out of commission.” Billy’s face is red from the effort. “He could probably move this thing by himself.”

  My decision to use the second stim is reinforced. No way Billy could do this by himself.

  Side by side, we roll the missile and its launcher across an ice plain. There’s a dent in one side where it hit the ornithropter when we detached it. We roll it over the hard snowpack, right to the edge of a boulder outcropping. The rocks are covered with hardened ice. The surface is slippery, but Gun had the foresight to pack ice cleats. They enable us to find purchase as we haul the missile and launcher up the slick rocks.

  Somehow, with lots of grunting and several false starts, we manage to get the equipment on top of the boulders. Once there, we have the chore of turning it right side up. The snowfall is light, patches of blue sky breaking through above us.

  Gun sits in the pilot seat of the ornithropter, wrapped in blankets. I see his mouth moving, but luckily, we can’t hear anything he says. No doubt he’s full of advice that would just annoy us.

  “We did it.” Billy crouches, breathing hard.

  My arms and back ache. “Good thing we have Gun for a witness. No one would believe we did this on our own.” I arch my back and swing my arms, trying to shake the strain out of them. “This plan better work. If not, we’re wasting a perfectly good missile. Uncle Zed would not approve.”

  Billy looks way from me, fiddling with the zipper on his snowsuit. At first I worry I upset him with my comment about Zed, but when he turns back to me, I see something else in his eyes.

  “Sulan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did I ever tell you what Uncle Zed said about you?”

  I shake my head, throat tightening.

  “He said, ‘Billy, stay close to that girl if things go sideways. She won’t go down without blasting her enemies first.’” Billy draws in a long breath. “If we don’t make it out of this, I just want you to know it’s been an honor to fight beside you.”

  “Billy, don’t talk like that.”

  “I’m a realist, Sulan. Our odds aren’t good. Tell me I’m wrong.”

  I hesitate. “We have a thirty-six percent chance of success.”

  “Thought so.” Billy gives me a resigned smile that alarms me.

  “My other ideas had an even lower success rate.” I mean this to bolster him, but I see from the look on his face that it has the opposite effect. I put my hands on his shoulders and look him in the eye.

  “We’re going to make it, Billy. We have to. Too many lives are at stake. You just keep using those creepy sharpshooter skills, and Global won’t stand a chance.”

  Some of the anxiety fades from his eyes, replaced with wry amusement. “My weapons skills aren’t usually the first thing people want to use.”

  I raise my eyebrows, desperate to pull him out of his funk. “They’re loss. You might be a hot shot Black Tech programmer, but you’re downright scary with a gun. You weren’t even using a rifle or a scope when you made those head shots.”

  “I never really took to the fighting and survival stuff Uncle Zed taught me.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “I just went along with the training so he could sleep at night.” Billy slips the Imager out of his pocket. “Look at this. See the Gavs?” He indicates the semicircle of blinking red lights.

  “Yeah.”

  “This is the part we need to break.” He taps the southeastern edge.

  I study his face. “Does this have something to do with the mysterious place you know about where we can get gas?”

  He nods.

  “And you’re not going to tell me what this place is?”

  He shifts back and forth, uncomfortable. “What if I said that I made a promise to Uncle Zed not to reveal certain intel to anyone?”

  “I would say I can respect that,” I reply slowly. “Except that it would really make things easier if we knew where you plan to take us.”

  “I know. I just . . . I just can’t break my promise to him. It doesn’t feel right.”

  “Okay.” Uncle Zed never went at anything in a straight line, so why should I expect Billy to do any different? “So this is the area you want to break through?” I point to the southeastern edge of the dragnet, just to make sure I’m clear on instructions.

  “Yeah. Right there.”

  “Then we need to aim the missile at this one. Number twelve.” I tap the Imager, indicating the twelfth Gav in the line. “This is far enough away that the eastern perimeter will hold when we attack. When they call for teams to follow the missile to its source, they’ll send the Gavs on the east. That’s when we break through the dragnet.”

 

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