“Still. I’m sorry,” Moss said again. He hated the idea that his friends had all suffered worse because Carcer wanted information on him. He didn’t understand why they were so desperate to have him more than any of the others.

  “I know,” Judy soothed, “but we’ve got a problem.”

  “Yeah, we’re in a prison,” Moss agreed.

  “More than that,” Judy told him, “she was recognized. If they realize it could be worth their while to tell Carcer who she really is, we’re up a creek.”

  Moss moaned, wringing his hands. “Shit.”

  “Yeah,” Judy agreed.

  “Gibbs, you get her cleaned up, and to the bar, we have to sort something out,” Moss said, and Gibbs gave a nod. He turned back to Judy, “You’ll know them when you see them?”

  “Yeah, but they won’t be happy to see me,” Judy reminded him.

  “Because you just beat their asses?” Moss asked, and Judy raised an eyebrow. “Well, we can deal with that in the moment.”

  “Perhaps I’ll just hang back,” Judy offered as they guided Moss down a street of makeshift houses toward a wider structure of corrugated tin.

  “Sure,” Moss agreed. “Lucky it was us who you found.”

  “Luck had nothing to do with it,” Judy corrected. “Ynna said you’d be waiting around here, so that’s where I took her.”

  “Of course,” Moss said, feeling foolish.

  “And it wasn’t luck that I found her either—I was waiting. I figured you guys would be dumb enough to pull something like this,” they said.

  “What choice did we have?” Moss asked, taken aback.

  “Run, hide, save your skins, and start a new crew… it’s what I would have done,” Judy said, and though Moss chuckled awkwardly, he knew Judy wasn’t kidding.

  “I wasn’t going to let you guys rot,” Moss justified.

  “And I’m grateful, don’t get me wrong, but it’s still stupid,” Judy said and, as enemies surrounded them and they were about to deal with a potential threat, Moss had a hard time disagreeing. Judy pointed to a long, thin structure. Part of a billboard for fancy cocktails was tied with frayed rope to a frame and served as a door.

  “Just inside there,” Judy told him. “Two girls about Ynna’s age. One with tattoos on her neck and the other with ripped sleeves. They will be licking their wounds and should be easy to spot. There are a lot of people in there, and you shouldn’t expect a warm welcome.”

  “I’m getting used to that,” Moss said with a weak smile.

  “I’m sure.” Judy laughed. “And stand up straight. You’re supposed to be an authority figure, remember?”

  Moss did as he was instructed, but the experience a moment earlier had taught him that he could be intimidating when he needed to be. Head held high, he strode into the building which seemed to be a community gathering center—old, torn couches wrapped in silver tape were set around industrial spools with board games etched into their faces. Screens were mounted in two corners, and while one flickered an old movie, the other was crisp, clearly showing a talk show where four people sat around discussing the issues of the day.

  Along one wall was a bank of vidphones, of which about half were operable and occupied. Palmscreens, ocular implants, and lenscreens were shut off upon entering the city, meaning the only way to communicate with the outside world was to pay Carcer Corp for the luxury.

  A bar stretched along the wall to the left, the chipper young girl working behind the counter pouring hearty amounts of brown liquor into mugs with coffee.

  Everyone turned to face Moss as he walked through the door, though most went back to their conversations instantly. Though the room was mostly populated with women, there were a couple of men who had made their way over after curfew lifted.

  Moss saw the two he was looking for standing in a corner. They were both fit and muscular, but he knew they must have jumped Ynna if they had been able to get one over on her. They did not look pleased to see that he was coming their way, but one of them masked it quickly.

  “Hi, officer,” she said in a sultry voice. She was not unattractive, quite the contrary, but Moss was not going to let this tack work on him.

  He puffed himself up and spoke authoritatively. “Ma’am.”

  “Ma’am?” she repeated in affected dismay. “I think we’re the same age.”

  “Ma’am, I heard you had an altercation with one of the other guests,” Moss stated.

  The other girl shifted, screwing her face into a grimace and trying to look hard. “Yeah, we dropped a bitch.”

  “Can’t be doing that,” Moss intoned.

  “You might think differently if you knew who she was,” the second girl said with a sibilant s. She had one bio-augmented eye which did not move as she spoke, simply sitting in the socket, pupil downcast.

  “And who’s that?” Moss asked, trying to play it cool though he knew how much trouble he was in. If they knew her and her connection to him, this whole operation would fail before it began. The girls scoffed. “What?” he asked.

  “You think we are just going to tell you?” the second girl asked, all business.

  “I think it would be best if you did,” Moss said, raising his shoulders.

  The first girl smiled, all honey and sweetness. “I think we are getting off on the wrong foot. I’m Whitney, and this is Astrid. We know someone in this facility is someone you might be interested in speaking with. Maybe there is a deal to be struck.” While obviously scared and in pain from what Judy had done to her, she covered it with a light, effervescent tone.

  Moss lowered his brows, “Are you trying to bribe an officer?”

  Whitney clutched her hands to her heart in mock offense, “Absolutely not. I’m simply suggesting an exchange.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Moss asked, trying not to overplay his hand. He needed to keep them quiet but couldn’t let them know it. Whitney batted her eyes at Moss, and her friend cringed.

  “Well,” she began, placing a bruised hand on Moss’s chest plate, “pregnant girls get a discount on supplies in here, so maybe you could do a little something to me, and I can tell you something that will get you that promotion you want.”

  It took all his strength not to stagger back in shock. “What?” he said.

  “I think you understand me,” she said with a wink, flipping her hair over her shoulder before wincing at the movement.

  “I do, it’s just—” he stuttered, at a loss for words.

  “It’s just what?” Astrid said. “Only a man can demand sex in exchange for things?”

  “Oh, what? No, I mean, it’s just—” he was floundering and knew it.

  “He’s a shy one,” Whitney joked to Astrid.

  “What is it just?” Astrid pressed, looking him square in the eyes. He was flummoxed, and his heart was racing. He took a deep breath through his mask and regained his composure.

  “It’s just that I don’t know if what you are saying is true. You could simply be desperate because of your situation and be looking to take advantage,” he mustered.

  “We aren’t,” Astrid put plainly, and he would have believed her even if he didn’t already know she was telling the truth. He tried to work out some other arrangement in his mind. He wasn’t going to whore himself and was certainly not going to father a child with this woman just to get them out of a jam. He considered taking them in, bringing them to solitary confinement and leaving them, but he knew they would make this offer to someone else and that eventually, a guard would likely take it.

  He stalled for time, “Can you prove it? Give me some way of knowing what you are offering is legit?”

  Astrid looked to her friend, who was now tracing lines with her fingertips on Moss’s arm. “What we can tell you is that we used to run with her on the outside and know who she runs with now. We’ve seen the news,” and she paused to give weight to what she added, “and even digitally distorted, we know she is valuable.”

  “What’s to stop me from just watching the footage and finding out who you got into the fight with?” Moss asked, playing his part while he tried to come up with an offer. Whitney’s hands were moving over him more aggressively, and he needed to think fast, a cold sweat breaking out on his skin.

  “You could, but that would take time we could use to have this chat with one of your coworkers,” Whitney said, cocking her head suggestively.

  Moss looked at Astrid, her robotic eye limp as her other was fixed on Moss. He smiled. “What if I could offer you something better, would that give me exclusive rights to your information?”

  “What’s better?” Astrid asked.

  “Power,” Moss said, proud of himself.

  “We are already pretty tough,” Astrid informed him.

  “Not that kind of power, electricity,” Moss explained. “You’re both augmented, right? What if I got you a supply of power, as much as you could use, would that work?” Astrid’s eye lit up. Moss had seen remote batteries in the barracks for augmented guards to use while on shift.

  “That could work,” Astrid said.

  Whitney snorted. “My augments are broken anyway.”

  “I could help you with that, too,” Moss told her.

  “We have to talk,” Astrid said, pulling Whitney by the arm so they could confer in private. Moss beamed. His plan might work. They spoke in hushed tones a few feet away while he absently watched the scene in the corner. They returned to his side after a time, Astrid looking excited while Whitney appeared disappointed.

  “We’ll do it,” Astrid said, extending a hand and Moss exhaled for what felt like the first time in days.

  Chapter 17

  Moss and Judy entered the Alco-Traz, having worked out their deal with the girls. After taking time to convince them to allow Judy to work on them, Moss had rushed back to the barracks and returned to charge them. They had promised not to tell anyone else about Ynna, and while he didn’t entirely trust them, it would do for the time being.

  As they entered, they saw Mr, Greene speaking with Gibbs, Ynna, and Stan (who looked as though he had been more aggressively questioned than Judy—bruises, cuts, and burns peppering his body). He stood instantly as they entered and embraced Judy in a massive, one-armed hug. Ynna looked bored but seemed to be healing, and Gibbs was enthralled, hardly acknowledging Moss and asking, “What is the Peter Principal?”

  Mr. Greene smiled broadly as Moss sat down at the round table. “Ah, that’s the question,” Mr. Greene said. “The principal posits that people are promoted to their level of incompetence. A person may be a great salesman but find that they are not good at managing other salesmen once they are promoted.” Moss smiled. He had always loved listening to Mr. Greene philosophize about business. When he was younger, he would sit in the older man’s office and simply let him speak. It also made him happy that Gibbs seemed to be enjoying it as well.

  Mr. Greene continued, “It’s why ThutoCo was always so successful. We used a system of promotion which incorporated skills beyond the actual job a person was doing, and it’s why you might have some luck here. Carcer is so top-heavy with petty tyrants that the average employee can get away with anything.”

  “I just did,” Moss said, thinking about how easy it had been to get the battery he had needed.

  Gibbs only then seemed to notice Moss and asked, “Sort everything out?”

  “For now,” Moss told him. Gibbs looked relieved.

  Moss felt a massive hand on his back. He stood to embrace Stan, his arm pulling Moss in tight.

  “How you holding up?” Moss asked.

  Stan looked at him with a weak smile. “Been better.”

  Moss smiled back. “That’s the prevailing opinion.”

  “You’re working on a plan?” Stan asked.

  Moss sighed. “Still getting a sense of the place. Feels like I’ve been playing catch-up since you guys were taken. Any idea how they found you?”

  Stan shook his head, “No.”

  “You give them anything?” Moss asked, wanting to make sure he knew everything which Carcer did.

  “Would I look like this if I did?” he said, spreading his arm to highlight his wounds. A long streak of blood was drying along his chest. Judy stood behind him defensively, like a snake ready to strike. He continued, “They seem real interested in you.”

  “Any of you plan to order anything?” the bartender asked aggressively.

  Not wanting to draw more attention to the table full of guards and inmates sitting together as friends, Gibbs stood and walked over to the bar and began ordering.

  “You seen Patchwork?” Moss asked, worried for the youngest member of their team.

  “Nah, I know he was trying to wipe his data, but they may be trying to break into him,” Stan suggested.

  “Poor kid,” Moss said, hanging his head pitifully.

  “Tougher than he looks,” Judy pointed out.

  “What’s the plan?” Stan asked. He had told Moss that he sometimes liked to push people by letting them push themselves. Moss had always been so grateful for Stan’s help and guidance, but right now, he really wished Stan would just give him a moment to think.

  He shifted nervously. “Get my grandmother out of the VIP area and then escape.”

  “Oh, good.” Stan chuckled. “For a moment, I was worried your plan would be vague.”

  Moss let out a long breath. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “I appreciate you guys coming for us,” Stan added, and Moss shot a look at Judy.

  Judy gave him a flat look. “It’s not news to anyone that he’s nicer than I am.”

  “I might be able to help,” Mr. Greene put in.

  “And who are you?” Judy asked, folding their arms.

  “Moss used to work for me at ThutoCo,” Mr. Greene stated.

  “Great, another fucking bub,” Judy said with an eye roll.

  Mr. Greene rapped a finger to his temple and smirked, “A smart fucking bub.”

  “What do you have for us, then?” Judy pressed.

  “As I was saying, this is a backward company which has few front-line staff, and those which they do have are overworked, underpaid, and angry. I’ve seen enough corporate malcontents to know trouble when I see it. I don’t think it would take much to push them over the line,” he explained.

  “Wouldn’t the sheer number of managers be able to stop an angry mob of staff?” Moss asked thoughtfully.

  “You would think that, but the company is fractured. With so many bosses all vying for attention, praise, and bonuses, they don’t communicate with one another. They spend their time micromanaging their staff. In time, they would certainly be able to quell an in-house rebellion, but as I said, it would take time,” he explained as Gibbs returned with metal cups of coffee, clanking them on the table.

  “Twelve does seem more interested in belittling us than doing a job,” Gibbs noted.

  “Precisely,” Mr. Greene said, taking a warm cup in his hand and taking a sip before wincing at the taste. He croaked, “Thank you.”

  “So, if we get the guards pissed, maybe it will buy us the time to get my grandma out,” Moss offered and was met with nods.

  “If you all work on the guests, we could really set this place ablaze,” Mr. Greene added.

  Stan smirked and hooked a thumb at Mr. Greene. “I like this one.”

  Mr. Greene responded with a bow of his head. “I try.”

  Stan winked. “And, Moss, for future reference, that is a plan.”

  Moss ignored the comment. “What do you know about the VIP area?”

  “Not as much as I would like,” Mr. Greene said, stroking his beard. The facial hair which had always been so pristinely trimmed was now a tangled mess. “I know it is located by the northwest side of the city and surveilled by a special, central control tower. I’ve only ever seen higher ranking people entering and exiting, so you will need clearance.”

  “Or better yet, someone in the control room,” Moss said. “We will need the comms to speak with the outside world. We have Anders’ van, but we will need support.”

  “Who’s Anders?” Stan asked.

  “A space pirate,” Gibbs said, his derision clear in his voice.

  “A friend,” Moss corrected.

  Ynna cleared her throat. “He got us here and helped us get in,” she said, her voice hoarse.

  “We will need to find him and Patchwork if we are going to have any hope of succeeding,” Moss said.

  “Anyone’s guess as to how long they will keep Patch,” Stan pointed out.

  “Once he is back with us, we’ll need to get him to that control room to get this ball rolling,” Moss said.

  Stan smirked. “What’s the plan?”

  “Right. Gibbs and I will start getting the guards pissed, and you guys do the same out here. We will meet here every morning to discuss progress. When the time is right, we will light our fuses and, in the chaos, break my grandma out and go,” Moss said with surety.

  “You know we will probably all be killed,” Judy said with an amused smile.

  “What else is new? But we made it this far,” Ynna pointed out.

  “You have me there,” Judy said, pretending to tip a hat.

  “We have to get back to the barracks to check in, but we’ll see you guys tomorrow. Keep your eyes and ears open for anything that will help us,” Moss said and stood. Gibbs did as well, putting a hand on Ynna’s shoulder and giving a little squeeze.

  As they moved toward the door, Moss felt a tug at his wrist and turned around.

  “Moss,” Mr. Greene said, his clear eyes fixed on his old protégé. “I just wanted to say that seeing you just now made me truly realize that you have become the man I always hoped you would. I’m proud of you.”

  Moss nearly collapsed to the floor, overcome with gratitude for the words. “Thank you,” he mustered and extended a hand.

  Mr. Greene shook it.

 

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