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Carter would be so proud.

Mike stepped towards the dais, the men and women under it struggling as if they’d just woken up from a bad dream.

Which they probably had, sort of.

He stepped up to Zacharies.
 
“She’ll be ok.”

“I know,” the kid said.
 
“Can we get it open?”

Mike looked up at the machinery, smoldering and burning on the dais.
 
That little weapon Floyd used was really something.
 
He’d like to get it back to the eggheads in the lab, see what they could make of it.
 
Maybe make him one.

“Haraway,” said Mike.
 
“Haraway, how long until we can get the gate back open?”

There was no response.
 
Mike looked up at the dais, the men and women pulling themselves out from under it.
 
His optics picked out a crumpled form through the confused milling.

“Oh,” said Mike.
 
“Oh shit.”

He stepped around the parts of the floor on fire and over to Haraway’s body.
 
It looked like a stray round — maybe from the chain cannon, hole was big enough — had hit her, blood soaking through the white of her coat.

“Is she—”
 
Sadie stopped talking.
 
“Oh.”

“Yeah,” said Mike.

“Yeah?”
 
Sadie rounded on him.
 
“That’s all you’ve got?”

“Well,” said Mike, spreading his fingers, “it’s bad, but we’ve still got you, and the kid—”

“No,” said Sadie, shaking her head, a sharp angry motion.
 
“No!”

“I don’t get it,” said Mike.
 
“I didn’t think you two got on.”

“We didn’t agree on everything,” said Sadie.
 
“Sure, that’s fair.”

“Then what is it?”
 
Mike blinked.
 
“I mean, I’m exposed here.
 
We just lost a part of the package.
 
The
deal
.”

Sadie turned away from him, looking across at Zacharies.
 
“Well, I’m no company scientist—”

“Clearly,” said Mike.
 
He clicked his link on.
 
“Sam?
 
We’re going to need an evac.”

“On it,” she said.
 
“Is my next gunship gonna get blown out of the sky?”

“Not likely,” said Mike.
 
“I give you a good, solid eighty percent chance of making it in here.”

“Right,” she said, the link snapping out.
 
Mike spat the taste of mint from his mouth, the overtime winding down.

“It’s like this,” said Sadie.
 
She pointed at the gate in the air above them, a hole back to the Federate.
 
“That thing?”

“It’s a gate,” said Mike.

“Yeah,” said Sadie.
 
“They need co-ordinates.”

“Still with you,” said Mike.

“Who in this room knows what the co-ordinates are to a different planet?”
 
Sadie looked around.
 
“Anyone?”

Mike looked at her, then to Zacharies, then to Haraway’s body.
 
“Oh,” he said.

Sadie brushed a tear from her eye.
 
“God damn it!”

Zacharies looked at Mike.
 
“We can get her back, can’t we?
 
Mike?
 
We can get her back, right?”

The gunship scudded in, pushing rain and smoke around, dropping extraction harnesses.
 
The wires trailed up to it, lifelines to the sky.

“Kid?
 
I’m working on it.”
 
Mike reached for a harness.
 
“Can we get the hell out of here first?”

“There’s a call coming in,” said Sam.

“A call?”
 
The link was clearing up, the interference in the air gone.
 
Quiet, like it should be.
 
“Who the hell’s calling?”

“Says his name’s Fuentes.
 
A conversion.
 
Works for the Federate.”

“Why do we care?”
 
Mike snapped the cable onto Zacharies, giving a thumbs-up to the men above, and watched the kid reel up to the sky.

“Apparently he shut down the reactor at Reed,” she said.

“That was him?”
 
He started to attach a cable to Sadie.

She held up a hand.
 
“Hands off.”

“It’s not like that,” he said.

She grabbed the cable from him.
 
“That’s right.
 
It’s not.”

Mike watched her rise to the sky.
 
“Sam?”

“Yeah.”
 
She sounded bored.
 
“Look, can we hurry this along?
 
I’ve got a party tonight.”

“Sorry if this whole life-and-death thing is getting in the way of your social life.”

“Apology accepted.”

Mike sighed, then clipped himself onto a wire.
 
“What’s he want?”

“He said he needs a job,” she said.
 
“Apparently he fought his way into a highly fortified syndicate HQ, shot the place up, and took out the main reactor by himself.
 
Or something.
 
I don’t know.
 
It looks good on the CV.
 
Does it have the same ring when I say it out loud?”

“Yeah,” said Mike.
 
“It sounds good.
 
Bring in some heavy lift gear.”

“What about the assholes at the bottom of the tower?”

Mike pulled himself up into the gunship, looking down as the machine tipped away from the tower.
 
His optics zoomed on the crowd below, people milling around.
 
But they were moving like people again, not doped up crazies.
 
“I don’t know.
 
Looks like a job for PR.”

“PR?”

“Yeah.
 
Get someone in Marketing on the horn.
 
If we get in here with some relief, we look good on the news tonight.”

“You’re not just a pretty face,” she said.
 
“Why didn’t I think of that?”

“You can say it was your idea,” he said.

“Was going to anyway.”

“This isn’t the best time,” said Sadie.
 
She swirled the liquor around in her mouth, then spat it out on the floor.
 
Something was loose in her jaw, and she eased a finger around the inside of her teeth.

Bernie’s eyes boggled.
 
“Not—”

“No,” said Sadie.
 
“It’s not the best time at all.”

“You’ve got to play tonight, Freeman.
 
We’ve got—”

“I’m not playing for you, Bernie.
 
Not now.
 
Not ever again.”
 
She looked down at the black of her armor, the crossed sabers on the chest plate.
 
“Look, I’ve got something to tell you.
 
It’s important.”

The other man crossed his arms.
 
“What is it?”

“You’re a cunt.”
 
She held up a hand.
 
“I don’t just mean that casually, either.”

“You—”

“Perhaps I can help,” said a voice behind them.
 
It was a beautiful voice used to speaking the right words at the right time.

Sadie turned, took in the suit, the leather shoes, the briefcase.
 
The man didn’t look out of place but he should, standing in the big open area of
The Hole
.
 
“You company?”

“In a manner of speaking,” said the man.
 
He took easy steps up to her, extending a hand.
 
“John Smith.
 
Legal counsel.”

Sadie took his hand.
 
Smith, huh.
 
Sure.
 
“I don’t think you’re here for me, John.”
 
She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at Bernie, still standing with his mouth open behind the bar.
 
“That sack of shit there owns the place.”

Smith’s eyes crinkled into a smile.
 
“Actually, he doesn’t.”

“What?” said Bernie.

“What?” said Sadie.

“If I may?”
 
Smith lifted the briefcase onto the bar, using it to push aside dirty glasses.
 
He popped the clasps, silver against the black leather, and flipped it open.
 
“Ah, yes.
 
Here.
 
The deed.
 
You just need to sign here, and here.”
 
He put the papers in front of Sadie, offering her a gold pen.

She took the pen, looking at it.
 
It felt heavy and old, forged from an empire of kept deals.

“You can fuck off,” said Bernie.
 
“Right now.
 
Get out of my—”

Smith held a hand up.
 
“Mr. Eckers?”

“Too right,” he said.
 
“I’m the lawful—”

“No,” said Smith, looking at his watch.
 
“You’re not.”

“I’m not?”

“No.”

“We’ll see about that.”
 
Bernie started to turn away, then laughed.
 
“It’s a joke, isn’t it?”

Smith shrugged, then looked at Sadie.
 
“If it’s not too much trouble, it’s really very important that you sign those papers.”

“Don’t,” said Bernie.
 
“Don’t you sign shit, you bitch.
 
Put the pen down.
 
I will have you fucking executed.”

Sadie looked at the pen, then at the papers.
 
She leaned forward, the slats of her armor easing with the movement, and signed twice on the papers.
 
She looked at Smith.
 
“Like that?”

“Just so,” said the man.
 
He checked his watch again.
 
“Right on time, too.”

As if on cue, two men in police uniforms entered through
The Hole’s
large door.
 
Bernie looked between the two of them, then turned and ran for the back door.

“Don’t make me run, asshole!” said one of the cops, breaking into a sprint as his hat fell to the floor.

Bernie made it to the back door, hand reaching for the handle as it was kicked open into his face.
 
He staggered back, hands clutching at a bleeding nose.
 
Another cop was in the doorway, something small and black in his hand.
 
He pointed and fired, the wires of the taser hitting Bernie in the chest.
 
The man choked, falling to the ground like a poleaxed steer.

“Bernie Eckers?” said the cop who’d been running, only a little out of breath.
 
He slapped silver cuffs on Bernie’s wrists.
 
“Bernie Eckers, you’re under arrest for drug distribution and human trafficking.”

“Wha?”
 
Bernie’s speech was slurred around the taser’s effects.

“You have the right to remain silent.”

“Go fuck—” said Bernie, before the cop slammed a fist into the side of his face.

“You have the right to an attorney.”
 
The two men grabbed Bernie under the arms and dragged him from the bar.
 
The third cop was still at the door.

Smith looked at him.
 
“Thank you, sergeant.”

“Always a pleasure, Mr. Smith.
 
My best to the wife.”

“Of course,” said Smith, offering a perfect smile.

“What the hell was that?” said Sadie.

“That,” said Smith, “was your payment for upholding your end of the deal.”

“The deal?” said Sadie.

“The deal,” said Smith.
 
“You remember what it was, surely?”

“I remember,” said Sadie.
 
She looked around the bar.
 
“Can I buy you a drink?”

⚔ ⚛ ⚔

Sadie named it
Afterlife
.

The sign could wait to be changed until she had some money, something in the till.
 
She was wiping the bar down, the dawn of a new day breaking low across the city.

It had stopped raining, and she wanted to cry.

The door at the front of the bar opened, Smith walking in.
 
Same shoes, different suit.
 
Sadie looked at him, pushing a strand of black hair out of her eyes.
 
“Mr. Smith.
 
Can I help you?”

“No,” said Smith, easing onto a stool on the other side of the bar.
 
He placed his briefcase on the top of it, almost the same place he’d put it yesterday.
 
“But I can help you.”

Sadie straightened.
 
“Am I going to need a drink?”

The ghost of a smile tugged at the mans’ lips, and he nodded at her.
 
“Perhaps.”

“Rock and roll,” she said.
 
“9.00 a.m. bourbon.”
 
She poured something into a mostly clean glass, then leaned forward.
 
“Thank you for yesterday.”

The man looked surprised.
 
“What for?”

“For…
 
For doing your job,” she said.

“Well,” said Smith, “I have some bad news.”

“Ok,” said Sadie.

“Your sister is dead.”

“My what?”

“Sister,” said Smith, pushing more papers across the bar.
 
“Carter Freeman.”

Sadie looked at the man, then down at the papers.
 
Most of it was legal speak, but she picked out words here and there.
 
Investments.
 
Property.

Money.

“My sister?”

“She left you a lot of money,” said Smith.

“Awesome,” said a voice from the front of the bar.
 
Sadie looked up, taking in the thin form and black hair of Aldo Vast.
 
“We’re rich.”