Lucky 7 Page 3

  Rock bolts upright, filling the entire cell. I barely manage to scramble back through the door before he comes bursting out, taking a good chunk of the wall with him. Rubble and dust sprinkle the ground at his feet, but he doesn't seem to notice. He whips around in a frantic circle. Though his eyes are no longer yellow, they’re wide with terror.

  "Rock!"

  Rock stiffens at first, then a smile spreads across his face. His huge shoulders slump with relief as he sinks to his knees.

  Doc rushes him, flinging her arms around his neck. "Are you okay?”

  Rock doesn't answer with words. He merely shakes his head yes, even though it’s obviously a lie. His mods are already starting to close the holes in his body, but there’s bruising and dried blood all over his skin. He puts his giant hand on top of Doc’s head until she stops squeezing him. Once Doc steps back, Rock seems to notice she isn’t alone. His eyes rest briefly on Sasha before he fixes me with a curious look. I shudder. It’s not aggressive, but definitely wary.

  "Glad to have you back, Rock," Sasha says with a curt nod. Rock nods in return. Without the glow of his darkvision mods, his eyes are a piercing blue like his sister’s.

  Sasha makes the briefest introductions possible. "Rock, Elena Nevares. New jacker. Nevares, this is Doc and her brother Rock. My M.O. and my grunt.”

  Rock nods again. I’m not sure whether he can’t speak, or he just doesn’t want to. He stands up, and then he and Doc head for the door, her at a run, him at a slow lumber.

  "Do we have a weapon for him?" I ask Sasha as we follow them.

  Sasha snorts. "You kidding me? Rock is a weapon."

  I’m treated to a demonstration as soon as we leave the room. Another group of guards is waiting for us in the hall, weapons drawn. I reach for my LightningBolt, but I don’t need it. Before they can fire, Rock charges. One swing of his fist sends the first guard flying. A jab of his elbow knocks two others into a tangle on the ground. The movement is so quick that I barely catch it. Rock’s as fast as he is huge.

  A fourth guard manages to get off a shot, but the pulse bounces harmlessly off Rock's chest. He doesn't even flinch as he hauls the man over his head and brings him crashing to the floor. All that’s left is a red puddle in a big dent.

  “No mames.” I shake my head in disbelief, but there isn’t time to stare. Sasha, Doc, and Rock are already heading back toward the shuttle. The sirens are still wailing, but there’s no more trouble between us and the crash site. I cup my hand over my eyes, blocking the flurries of snow that blow in through the open wall. What I see isn’t good. The Eagle’s nose is still jammed into a pile of rubble, tilting the whole shuttle forward.

  “How do we get out of here?" I ask.

  Sasha takes in the damage. "It’s just a few dents. She should still fly once we pull her out."

  “Pull her out? The ship’s half-buried!”

  "Not a problem,” Doc says. "Rock, give us a lift?"

  Rock considers the Eagle for several moments before bracing his feet apart and hunching forward to slide his hands under the metal frame. My eyes widen. Lifting a man is one thing. Moving a Series 3 Eagle is completely different.

  "He's not actually gonna," I mutter in disbelief.

  Doc grins. “Watch.”

  Rock's arms bunch, flexing with effort. I hear the whir of pistons, and steam seeps from between his joints. Slowly, the Eagle begins to move, rubble from the broken wall sloughing off its sides. Once the shuttle is free, Rock turns it around until its nose points out at the wasteland. Carefully, he lowers it back to the ground, rolling his giant shoulders as he releases the weight.

  I stare at him, stunned. Sasha nudges my arm. "Move your ass, Nevares. We don't want any more Axys people to find us."

  That breaks my trance. I climb into the shuttle and grab a seat. Sasha heads for the pilot's chair, crossing her arms when she sees it isn't vacant. "You trying to be funny, Doc?"

  "Nope." Doc activates the dashboard, and the Eagle's floor vibrates as the engine roars to life. "Making sure there won’t be any more accidents. I’m not letting my brother die in a shuttle crash after busting him out of here."

  “The crash was to get through the wall,” Sasha says. “What part of that don’t you and Nevares get?”

  Doc gives Sasha a pleading look. “Come on, boss. My brother, my op.”

  I’m both impressed and upset. Doc seems highly competent, but she’s still a kid. She shouldn’t know how to pilot combat shuttles out of secret corp biomedical research facilities. The fact that Sasha lets her makes my stomach simmer with anger.

  "Fine,” Sasha says, climbing into the back. “Get us out of here."

  "You got it, boss."

  The Eagle protests at first, but after a shuddering hesitation, it creeps forward. We launch into the air, shooting through the hole and out into the snow. I don’t relax my muscles until the factory has become a dark blur on the horizon. A hundred questions buzz in my brain, but for the moment, I’m grateful to be alive.

  Tuesday, 06-08-65 7:02:25

  “NEVARES?”

  MY NAME FLOATS toward me from very far away. I can’t tell who’s calling, but I don't care enough to find out. Wherever I am is warm and comfortable, and my sore body protests at the prospect of moving. I keep my eyes shut, ignoring the noise.

  "Nevares." This time, the voice is insistent. Familiar. As my foggy mind tries to place it, someone shakes my shoulder. "Unless you want to freeze out here, you'd better get up."

  I recognize the voice. The events of the past few hours come flooding back. I open my eyes and realize I’ve fallen asleep on Sasha's shoulder. Mierda. I just hope I didn’t drool. I pull away, yawning into my hand to play it off.

  “Where are we?” I look around, but the back of the Eagle doesn't have any windows. All I can see through the front windshield is a faint glow.

  Val’s pleasantly neutral voice answers my question. “Now arriving at the Hole. Begin descent in six hundred meters.”

  “The Hole?” I repeat, looking at Sasha. “Why do you call it that.”

  Sasha shrugs. “Because it’s underground. Why else?”

  The shuttle slows to a stop, and its engines switch off. Sasha unfastens her safety harness, but because of her height, she has to duck to keep from hitting the ceiling when she stands. Rock has it even worse. He has to fold himself up to avoid bumping his head. For once, I’m happy to be short.

  Sasha opens the side doors. The shuttle has taken shelter in a dimly lit garage. Loud gusts of wind blow somewhere outside, and the air is frigid enough to show the silvery mist of my breath. I unfasten my belt and clamber to my feet, holding the wall until my numb legs regain feeling.

  "How long have I been out?"

  Sasha answers me for once. "A couple hours."

  I grimace. Was I sleeping on her the whole time? “Sorry.”

  Sasha ignores me and climbs out of the Eagle, turning back to extend her hand. I stare at it in surprise. So far, she hasn't been what I’d call chivalrous. Before I can accept the offer, Rock's bulk fills most of the exit. Sasha guides him down instead, and as he drops to the ground, I notice he’s shaking. Whatever AxysGen did to him, it’s bad.

  "Is he going to be okay?" I ask, hopping down after him.

  Sasha sighs. "You never stop with the questions, do you?"

  "Considering I almost died today, I think I’m entitled to some answers."

  Sasha ignores me, circling around the Eagle. "Doc? Rock doesn't look too good. Better get him to the med bay."

  Doc hurries over. “On it. Come on, Rock," she says, grabbing hold of his elbow and guiding him away from the Eagle. Rock obeys, allowing her to lead him onto a wide metal platform. “Val, can you get the lift?”

  “Yes, Doc,” Val says, from speakers I assume are somewhere in the garage. “Initiating descent.” The platform begins to move, descending into darkness.

  I think about following, but Sasha’s still standing nearby. She’s half in and half out of the Eagle
, rummaging through a storage bin bolted to the floor just under the armory.

  "Want me to put my pistol back?" I ask, walking over to stand at her shoulder.

  Sasha shakes her head. "No. You'll need it to defend yourself…from me, if you don't stop with the interrogation."

  "It's not an interrogation.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  My jaw clenches. I’m not the type to make friends with coworkers—or at all. Watching my old crewmates die was horrible, but they were business partners—acquaintances. I don’t need Sasha to be my friend, but we have to get along, because her dislike could be very hazardous to my health. More fights are coming, and I need her to watch my back.

  "I’m not trying to piss you off, okay? I just want to know what we're getting into. Tell me what we need to do and how you plan on keeping me alive while we're doing it, and I'll step back."

  I wait for Sasha to lash out at me again, but she doesn’t. She takes a seat on the raised shuttle platform, feet dangling off the edge. Her legs are so long that her boots nearly brush the floor. "We need to finish getting my old crew back together. What's left of it, anyway. I've got my grunt and my medical officer, so that's a start. I still need my cloak and my wrench."

  “I still can’t believe Doc is your MO.”

  “Yeah. So?”

  I exhale in frustration and disbelief. “She hasn’t even hit puberty yet. What makes you think it’s okay to take a fucking kid on ops?”

  “I don’t make her go,” Sasha says, her brow furrowed with annoyance. “She wants to, and she’s more than ‘a fucking kid’. She’s the best medic I’ve ever had.”

  I’m still angry, but I sense this conversation isn’t going anywhere. For now, at least, Doc isn’t getting shot at. And I get why Sasha’s pissed. If I was a handler, I wouldn’t want some idiot coming in and telling me how to run my crew. Next time we go out, though, I’m not letting that kid risk her neck.

  "Anyway, two more pickups?” I ask, trying to defuse the situation. “Not so bad."

  "You say that, but you haven't met Cherry yet. I don't know what she's gotten into, but it definitely involves explosives."

  "She your wrench?"

  "Among other things,” Sasha says. “You can bother her once we get her. She likes intrusive personal questions."

  "Come on. Asking how we're going to get AxysGen off our backs hardly qualifies as intrusive or personal. I'd classify it as vital information." Sasha doesn’t disagree. I decide to count that as progress. “What about your cloak?”

  Sasha actually smiles a little. "Rami. Master of disguise. They can paint their face to look like anyone, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg."

  “They?”

  Sasha nods. “‘They’ out of disguise. Otherwise, it’s whatever the situation calls for.”

  “Okay.” I hop onto the platform beside Sasha, sitting an arm's length away from where she’s brooding. "What about your jacker? You've got me for now, but didn't you have one on your old crew? We're one of the most essential ingredients."

  Sasha's eyes lock onto mine with a frozen stare. "Remind me how your crew died, Nevares.”

  That’s the last thing I want to talk about, and she has to know that.

  When I don’t answer, Sasha turns away, fixing her gaze on the far wall. "Then you tell me. What do you think happened to my last jacker?"

  Suddenly, everything makes sense: Sasha's protectiveness toward her crew, her moodiness, her hatred of AxysGen. Of course she wants revenge. I’m not the crewbonding type, but she obviously is. In her eyes, AxysGen has cost her a family member.

  “I understand.” I scoot a little closer. "If a corp killed one of my brothers—"

  Sasha hops off the platform, taking several steps away. The echo of her boots sounds unnaturally loud on the concrete floor as she turns her back on me. "I'm done with twenty questions. Go down into the Hole, get some food, and grab a bunk. We're riding out tomorrow to pick up the rest of my crew, and it's not going to be any easier than busting Rock out."

  I climb down and head for the lift where Doc and Rock disappeared. The light next to the keypad is green, and when I press the down arrow, I’m lowered into a bunker beneath the garage. I stare up at Sasha's back until her boots disappear, then her torso, then her head, replaying the conversation in my head. Talk about hidden landmines. With everything else going on recently, I’ve forgotten something: I’m really bad at being part of a crew. My rocky relationships with all my previous ones are evidence of that.

  The platform arrives in a spacious, well-lit room. It’s warm and insulated, so I shrug out of my coat. Obviously, Sasha has invested in a good heating system. There’s a table with chairs, a kitchen area in the corner, a large couch, and what looks like an entertainment system mounted on one wall. The decor’s modest, but the Hole is definitely cozy.

  "Hey, Nevares. What took you?" Doc emerges from the only doorway, looking slightly less scrawny without her brother beside her.

  "You can call me Elena, chiquita. How's Rock?"

  Doc smiles. Her pale face has a little more color. "Better. It takes more than a few weeks of torture to take him out. His mods heal him up pretty well, and I can handle the rest."

  My eyes widen. "A few weeks? They had him that long?"

  "Yeah." Doc’s smile fades almost as quickly as it appeared. "He was bait. AxysGen knew Sasha wouldn't be able to resist. She'd go on a suicide run if it meant keeping the rest of us alive. Plus she’ll do anything she can to hurt them. Kill Sasha’s crew and murder her fiancée, see if you don't rise to the top of her shit list."

  "Wait. You mean your last jacker was…” Doc nods. I close my eyes and roll them backward. As if she didn’t already hate me. “Guess I really put my foot in it. But if Sasha’s out for revenge, what was she doing in St. Petersburg?"

  Doc looks at me like it should be obvious. "What do you think? She needs you. There's no way we can do this without a jacker. Rescuing Rock would have been impossible if you hadn't broken the security on that door, and Cherry and Rami are gonna be even harder." Her smile returns, and she suddenly seems her age again. "Thanks, by the way. Rock might not be alive without you. If you ever get shot, poisoned, stabbed, melted brain, anything like that, I've got your back."

  "I’m more worried about you. You seem talented, kid, but aren’t you a little young for this?"

  Doc’s expression immediately sours “Aren’t you a little ugly for this?”

  “Ha fucking ha. I’m serious, chiquita. I have brothers your age. They’re smart—smarter than me—and they can handle themselves. But I don’t want people shooting at them. I do this job so they don’t have to.”

  “You mean you don’t even want to do it?” Doc seems to forget she’s supposed to be mad at me. “Being a jacker is supposed to be fun.”

  “Sure, it’s fun hacking the security simulations in Darkspace, but this isn’t a game to level up your skills. I like a challenge. What I don’t like is people trying to kill me. I’m surprised you do.”

  “Don’t worry about me getting killed. I’ve been doing this a while.” Doc turns back toward the door. My unwanted concern is apparently forgiven. "Come on. We can sit with Rock for a while. That is, if you want to."

  I glance toward the lift. "Sure, but Sasha's still up there. Maybe you should check on her."

  Doc laughs. "You're sweet as fucking pie, aren't you? Boss will be fine. She'll come down before the temperature gets too bad. She's not stupid enough to freeze to death."

  Not stupid enough, I think, but maybe stubborn enough.

  Doc leads me out of the living room and through the only remaining door. Beyond is a hallway, and Doc points out each room as we pass by. “Bunks, bathroom—there’s more than one shower, so go in whenever. Storage, armory, uh…more storage. And the med bay.”

  “Just more storage, huh?”

  Doc avoids my eyes. She’s already heading through the medbay door. The room beyond is small, but all the stainless-steel
surfaces are spotless. Doc obviously keeps this place clean, which bodes well for me if I ever end up on her table. Rock is lying on a cot against one wall. His giant limbs almost don’t fit, but he seems to be sleeping peacefully. The torn patches of skin on his body have been repaired with shiny red skin, and his eyes are closed.

  “So, big guy’s gonna be okay?” I ask Doc.

  “Yeah.” She lets out a long breath. “I’m just glad I got there in time. He wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”

  “How did AxysGen get ahold of him anyway?”

  Doc pulls over a chair, sitting in reverse with her arms folded across the back. “After our last op went bad, we had to scatter. There was no word from Sasha, Rami, or Cherry. I didn’t even know they were alive until Sasha contacted me a few days ago. Anyway, Rock and me ran. AxysGen caught up with us…” Her expression reads guilt, an emotion I’m all too familiar with. “He gave me time to get away.”

  I look at Rock’s slumbering form. “That’s what older siblings do, chiquita. Don’t feel bad about it. I bet he doesn’t.”

  Doc gives me a weak smile. “Yeah?”

  “You can ask him when he wakes up. He’ll say the same thing.” I pull up a chair beside Doc’s. If sitting with her for a while will cheer her up, I’m happy to do it. She and Rock are better company than Sasha, at any rate.

  Wednesday, 06-09-65 16:25:30

  “AND HERE I THOUGHT the cold was bad," I mutter, tripping over another root. I’m outfitted with sturdy hiking boots and breathable clothes, but I can't find even footing, and my skin is sticky with sweat. The temperature by itself isn't so terrible, but the humidity is unbearable. It's even worse than home.

  The bug shield clipped to my belt is all but useless. I have to stop every few seconds to swat at the mosquitos hovering around my face. I might not have believed it yesterday, but today I'd trade the Amazon rainforest for the Siberian tundra in a heartbeat.