Under Dark Sky Law (21 page)

“You’re a twisted fuck, aren’t you?” he said
and grabbed her wrists.

She used gravity to push his hands backwards
against the headboard. He still gripped her wrists, but she had his
arms pinned. “I’ve been accused of worse things,” she said and
waited.

“My parents were born in the flats, but when
I was born, I wasn’t able to breathe the air out there. I was meant
for the domes. They had the choice of giving me up, or finding a
way to make me able to live in the flats.

She released his hands and he let go of her
wrists. “Ah, one of the lucky children,” she said.

“Cursed is more like it, but yeah according
to dome propaganda I would be one of the lucky ones,” he said.
“Problem was, in those days there were social service authorization
issues. If my parents weren’t allowed into the domes, then there
wasn’t anyone to take care of me. I would be another burden to the
system. As much as my parents would have liked to keep me, they
wouldn’t have doomed me to die slowly and painfully, but they
didn’t really have a choice. They couldn't get my Zone Pass
approved to be adopted into the domes,” he said.

“That’s sad, man,” she said. “But you look
like you came out okay in the end.”

He shook his head. “It’s not quite that
simple. My parents were engineers, brilliant engineers in fact.
Before the exiles they were responsible for a lot of the automated
and cybernetic technologies that got the domes going in the first
place. But once the mandate against any intelligent machines or
implantable technologies that might lead to true cyborgs came into
being, they were tossed out of the domes and most of their
inventions were systematically destroyed. They knew they could
build me artificial lungs, but they would have been executed if
they’d caught doing something like that in the flats,” he said.

Strands of his jet black hair had fallen
across his eyes and she brushed it away from his forehead. “So they
hauled it out to the pits,” she said.

He smiled, but there was sadness to it. “They
sacrificed a lot for me,” he said simply.

She clicked her tongue in understanding.
“This is your hometown,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “In a manner of speaking. I guess
this is where I was reborn in a way, and I’ve spent a lot of time
here working as a mercenary and otherwise. It’s not quite as
crowded as Yuma was, and I always liked it. People here are
friendly but discreet. It’s a good place,” he said.

She poked at his nose. “So tell me the end of
the story. I want all the gritty details,” she said.

“Jesus, you’re merciless. You can guess,” he
said.

She scoffed. “Come on. You’re a big boy, you
can handle it. I like to get to know the people I work intimately
with,” she said and ground her crotch into his hips.

He rolled his eyes. “My parents put me
through hell, and I almost died a lot of times while they tried to
get the cybernetics right in an environment that wasn’t exactly
equipped for advanced shit like that. Gila Bend was nice as far as
the pits back then, and even now it’s still pretty decent for a
flat, but it’s still no place to do experimental organ transplant
on a child,” he said.

“There’s something you’re leaving out,” she
said. “You didn’t get that final pair of lungs from your parents,
and you didn’t get those additional modifications from them either,
did you?”

“You’re sharp, but a man’s got to keep some
secrets. You’re right though, I’ll give you that. They died when I
was very young.” he said.

She cocked her head to the side. “That
doesn’t make any sense. If they figured out how to replace your
lungs, why not do it to each other?” she said.

“Who said they didn’t?” he said.

It took a moment, but Xero let out a sigh of
understanding. “Ah, so they were caught,” she said.

His face became hard and his eyes got a
blank, faraway look in them. “They were already under suspicion due
to their known history in cybernetic engineering. So there you go.
I think that’s more than enough information for one night,” he
said.

She wanted to keep pressing him for details
about how exactly he managed to avoid being exterminated himself,
or how he ended up with adult-sized cybernetic lungs, but she
decided to let it be for the moment. She had a good sense for when
she had pushed someone too far, and there was nothing to be gained
by shoving Radar over the brink.

She tapped a finger on his chest between his
clavicles. “That’ll do for now,” she said.

“I’m not sure what I signed up for if the
people on your crew are anything like you,” he said.

She shifted around on top of him. “Don’t
worry, I’m probably the worst of the bunch and I promise you’ll
make enough money working with me to make it more than worth your
while,” she said, thinking to herself that Neptune might actually
be worse than her, but he would find that out for himself if
everything went right.

He grunted and rolled, tossing her onto the
other side of the bed and landing straddled across her abdomen.

“If we’re all not dead before that,” he said
and stared down at her.

She reached up and tickled his navel. He
giggled, caught off guard, and it was bizarre to hear such a
frivolous sound coming from such a serious face.

“We could all die tomorrow, but until then,
you may as well gather as much money and power as you can,” she
said.

He smirked, leaned down, and kissed her. “I
think we’ll get along just fine,” he said.

He ran the broad side of his thick rough
thumb across her forehead, rubbing off a smudge of dirt. “Sorry the
shower’s busted right now. Lotta jacked up plumbing in this area,”
he said.

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. Bitch
can’t catch a break in this century,” she said.

CHAPTER 17

“Honey, I’m home!” Xero called.

“Boss!” Milo yelled and came running up to
the door. His shaggy, naturally red hair came down just past his
chin, and the sprinkling of freckles across his nose made him look
much younger than he really was. The dark circles under his eyes
hinted at what a heavy burden he actually carried as the territory
area’s medical director.

They were in their main bunker, an old
bowling alley just outside the remains of the freeway. Previously
called “Golden Lanes” in another era, the faded logo still peeked
out layers of corrosion and dust on various surfaces of the
building. They stood in the main hall, which they used for team
meetings, band practice, and more importantly actual bowling.

Xero had just come through the bunker’s main
door with Radar not far behind her. Ignoring the other man, Milo
flung his arms wide to embrace Xero, but stopped after seeing the
rough condition of her skin. “Ah jeez Xero, you didn’t tell me how
fucked up you were,” he said.

She scratched her head sheepishly. “Yeah,
it’s been a fuckin’ rough week for sure,” she said.

Milo shook his head disapprovingly. “I’ve got
one Grease Weasel MIA, Trina’s down hard with the zaps, and you’re
out there playing rodeo clown,” he said. “I’m going to have to drag
you down to the infirmary for the night, make sure you didn’t pick
up any nasty infections—some of those wounds aren’t looking so
good.”

“You really know how to throw a welcome home
party,” she said.

“I aim to please,” he replied and stuck his
hands in his pockets. He was wearing a pair of ripped jeans and a
faded green and red flannel shirt, making him look far more like a
juvenile band groupie rather than an important medical
professional. But when they were performing in concert he fit right
in, and you never would have guessed his true age or
responsibilities.

Looking past Xero, he walked forward and
extended his hand towards Radar.

“Sorry for the bad manners. My name’s Milo—I
hear you saved our boss’ hide out there. Welcome to the Grease
Weasels,” he said.

Radar shook his hand. “Glad to be of service.
This is the first time I’ve ever been to the Tucson pits. You guys
have some pretty impressive security here,” he said.

It was damned hard breaking into their
territory, and even with the big cheese along for the ride,
clearing a new immigrant into the area had taken some time.

“We don’t fuck around,” a short woman said as
she emerged from a door behind Radar’s back.

“Indeed,” Radar said.

“Thanks, I run a tight ship,” the woman said
and ran a hand through her cropped black hair.

Radar extended his hand again. “Name’s
Radar,” he said.

“Neptune. I handle security around here,” she
said.

She was probably half Radar’s height, but
when she gripped his hand, she used her surprising strength to
physically pull him closer. “I hear you’re an engineer,” she
said.

He took her aggressive introduction in
stride. “I am indeed. Pleased to meet you,” he said. His eyes
wandered to the bowling lanes. “Do those things still work?”

“Absolutely,” Neptune said.

Neptune kept those lanes going like they were
new. She also made sure the interior was kept clean—most of the
wood and vinyl surfaces had been restored, and if you walked in
unawares, you wouldn’t even know you were actually in the middle of
an exile’s wasteland. That is, except for the shoe rental stand
that had been transformed into a weapons rack. Then again, Tucson
had always been a little rough around the edges to begin with.

Radar nodded his approval. “Nice restoration.
I don’t remember the last time I saw a working lane,” he said.

“We don’t fuck around when it comes to
recreation,” she said.

With Neptune still gripping his hand he
leaned forward and said, “I don’t fuck around when it comes to
anything.”

Neptune smiled and released his hand. “You’ll
do. Remind me to show you some of our toys one of these days, once
you’ve proved your salt,” she said.

“I’m always up for anything that involves
tools,” he said.

Milo stamped his foot on the floor. “You guys
are such hard asses. He already proved his salt by saving our boss’
ass,” he said. “Alright Neptune, why don’t you find Radar a room
where he can get cleaned up, and then see if you can round up some
food to eat. I’m going to take Xero down to the clinic to make sure
she’s not slowly dying of another flesh eating bacteria attack or
something else she picked up in the flats,” he said.

Xero crossed her arms over her chest and
rolled her eyes. “Are you fucking serious? You want to drag me all
the way down to the university clinic?” she said.

Milo just looked at her, waiting for the
tantrum to pass. He was probably the only one that could get away
with telling her what to do like that.

She threw up her hands. “Oh fine, I know you
won’t fucking stop nagging me until I go, and I’ll never get any
peace and quiet,” she said.

Milo nodded resolutely. “Trust me, debriding
some of those wounds will be a lot less uncomfortable in an actual
clinic. Once you’re cleared and everyone is clean and fed, we can
powwow to talk about our next move,” he said.

Xero took a step back and raised both
eyebrows. “Look at you stepping up and being a leader,” she
said.

Milo blushed but then straightened up and
took a proud breath. “Well someone had to run this place while you
were off gallivanting around,” he said.

She put a hand on his shoulder. “You done
good Milo, you done good,” she said and sighed. “Meanwhile, I’ve
basically been fucking up shit left and right.”

Milo looked her up and down. “Give yourself a
break—have you taken a look in the mirror recently? You look like
death,” he said.

Neptune nodded and rocked back onto the heels
of her studded black combat boots. “Sorry to say this boss, but you
look like shit,” she said.

Xero threw up her hands. “Alright already, I
get it, I get it. I’ll go to the clinic. And please, someone
fucking tell me our shower facilities are working,” she said.

Neptune gave her a thumbs up. “All systems
are operational,” she said.

“Thank fucking god,” Xero said.

CHAPTER 18

After enduring more poking and prodding and
any number of uncomfortable things from Milo down at the University
clinic, Xero was almost too exhausted to make it back to take the
long awaited shower. The university had been abandoned around the
times of the revolution, and they had done some significant work to
restore and use the facilities for a variety of things. There were
a great deal of abandoned labs with all kinds of useful equipment
and supplies that they had been able to refurbish, and the entire
university medical clinic had been up for grabs. While Golden Lanes
was their home base, the university was really the true hub of
their business operation. Milo ran the clinic that kept everyone
alive, and his services were used far too frequently, which kept
him constantly busy. The campus was also the source of their main
revenue stream—Alphamine. It’s amazing the fun you can have with
abandoned chemistry labs.

“Jesus Christ that fucking hurt,” she said.
She laid her head back against the clean exam table. The small room
was sparsely furnished—just the exam table, an instrument tray, a
bright overhead light, and a doctor’s stool, but everything was
immaculately clean, which was an immense feat out in the pits. They
took pride in keeping their shit together.

He had finally stopped stabbing her with what
seemed like an endless line of injections, some of which left
burning sensations crawling and creeping over her skin and in her
veins. The injections along with a some Machiavellian scrubbing and
debriding of some of the peeling burns and damaged tissue, it felt
like her whole body was on fire. A long IV needle was throbbing in
the crook of an elbow because of Milo’s insisting that she needed
to hydrate to help with lost blood volume and to speed healing of
some of the remaining chemical burns.