Chapter 31

I had so many questions.

The first of which was the mention of an "endowment," since it was the first I'd even heard about it until now. The second was related to...whatever the hell had Sam suddenly in a change of attitude. It was a complete one hundred eighty degree turn from what she'd shown me before: angered, but aloof, annoyance.

The expression on her face now seemed as if she were reevaluating how she should have perceived me but realized she’d grossly miscalculated. Worse, she seemed familiar with me, but I had zero ability to know why.

Within my head bounced a multitude of reasons for Rob, of all people, to say my mother’s original name so casually and with so much familiarity. I felt like I was still missing a huge chunk of a very large puzzle, one with a million pieces and no guiding image to rudder my way through the job of snapping them together.

Additionally, and much to my continued annoyance, Rob wasted no time with explanations.

"Old" Rob would sometimes interrupt random conversations to say crazy things. He had been a simple person with simple motivation. A static value. A constant in a world filled with equations and variables.

More importantly, he always used to answer my questions.

But this was New Rob.

New Rob usually never seemed to answer ANY of my questions at all. It was annoying. New Rob also—as apparent by the twirling signal for me to turn around—had zero issues with stripping dead bodies of equipment and stuffing them into MY bag so he wouldn’t need to carry them.

It was times like these, as I wordlessly obeyed and turned so he could access the pack, I came to the realization I really missed the "old" Rob. New Rob was sometimes a bummer.

This, of course, led me to thoughts of my old life.

Correction. Not my "old" life; my "fake" life. The one boxed within invisible walls. Behind the bars of a cage I hadn't even realized I lived in.

I was mentally thrown off track. The immediate area’s temperature had dropped another few degrees as the canal waters roared past. I could feel the cold. Probing. Pecking. Bleeding away at the outer layers, trying to stab its way inward. To extract the heat from my bones and leave me shivering.

I watched my breath plume into a cloud and felt dragged down. I had to wonder what Rob had managed to pull off the deceased security goons. The straps dug into my shoulders from the weight of the added items. My right foot began to sink, ankle-deep, into the mud.

My eyes were burning from exhaustion, so I closed them. The combined sensations somehow triggered a memory. One where my mother hummed while she rocked me.

The melody had been pretty, almost haunting, but achingly familiar. She'd smiled at me sadly, "I was born near the canals, Piglet. It's called 'The Siren's Call.' We used to sing it for the lost ones taken by the waters."

The mere mention of a world larger than our vicinity felt like an alien concept. Mythical. Full of dragons and magic. I'd been enraptured. Thus far, my reality had been limited to the four walls of our home. Anything else might as well be on a different planet, a different universe entirely. She'd looked at me lovingly when she spoke again, "The day you were born? It was a special moment..."

I moved to secure my footing firmly in the present. Newly formed streams by my feet reminded me of Paul’s “tears.” The water level rose around us as I looked down to where my feet slid. What had been mere puddles continued to form miniature lakes and rivers; the new landscape was shaped by an unyielding rain and the actions within.

Her voice drifted on the wind.

A special place.

My adult-sized half-step slid as I attempted to restabilize. It only took a single pull to successfully free my boot from the mud with a loud squelch. None of the movement seemed to bother Rob in the slightest as he continued to work. Undeterred and unflinching. My pack jerked left and right in an attempt to make room for the spoils of the fight. With nowhere to turn but across the canal, my eyes were drawn to what I'd been surprised by when we'd first entered the plaza, back where the noodle vendor had set up.

Lights.

Through the mist, there were tiny pinpricks of life just barely visible on the opposing side of the wide canal. The lights twinkled and disappeared randomly. Some were solid and unmoving, while others faded or appeared. They reminded me of stars as they danced amongst the clouds of a wispy night. If I thought hard enough, I could almost make out imaginary shapes of distant constellations, the remnants of some long-forgotten story told by an unspoken narrative.

It should've been obvious to me then, but it hadn't been.

People are there—I was from there.

I turned my head, my neck strained so I could frame Rob in a one-eyed glance. “You told me you were from the Canals,” I said to Rob. A statement rather than a question.

There was silence in the clearing as Sam looked at me—I mean, REALLY looked at me this time. Her anger was shed and discarded like an old skin. Cast aside as her eyes evaluated and calculated. All business. Her arms were crossed across her stomach. a look of contemplative uncertainty on her face as Rob nodded.

There was another awkward silence before any of us spoke again.

"Rob," Sam said, "this is big. Maybe too big for me. If this really is Ian's only son, you know what that's going to mean for Frank and me, right?" Her green-speckled eyes roamed my face in a way that made me nervous. The look she gave me was a mixture of bemusement, pity, and remorse. By his expression, Rob didn't seem happy about it as Sam continued, “We both take some big risks, Rob. But this,” she said it with a frown and a wave in my general direction, “this is something else. It's way off the rails from what I would've ever expected.”

Mental dots connected. I had another random thought about my mother.

She'd given me a name for the "special place" where I’d been born. At the time the name hadn’t been relevant to my youthful mind, just random words of unfamiliarity, but I’d memorized them. I’d memorized them because it seemed important to her.

“

There,” I said aloud. The word felt odd to my ears. The air felt like it thrummed with a sense of power after finally having said them. "Alistair Claim. It's where I was born, wasn't it?"

Rob was grimly silent. Sam looked back and forth between us, a look of confusion on her face. My mind raced with the implications of Rob and my mother's history. A lot still didn't add up, but I'd finally gotten a partial answer.

Rob nodded once, slowly. Cautiously.

"Is that it over there?" I asked, pointing at the lights.

"Some of it." Rob said. "Most of the canal shore is part of the Alistair Claim."

I pondered on this as I took in the shoreline, which went on further than I could see in either direction. I was expansive if so.

I spoke aloud again. “My official birth record says 'Marcott.' Do you know why that is?"

Sam interrupted before Rob could answer.

“

Look—uh, Owen. We don’t have time for this, okay?” she said, nervously, “Every moment we stand talking is another moment Zat and Rat over there will be discovered missing. Another chance, another random patrol might come across us.”

It was my turn to be irritated. Enough was enough.

“

WE don’t have time?!” I said, Heat crept up my face. I could feel the shade of scarlet. “YOU were perfectly fine being vocally upset for all of the past half hour, but me? I'm the one wasting time here?! I’m getting a little tired of being left out of everything despite being told I’m part of--” I flailed my arm toward both of them in exasperation, at a loss for the right word, “WHATEVER the hell you guys are!”

Rob held up a calming hand. "McCreed made this happen, Owen. Let's not forget that, okay? I'm sorry I can't give you all the answers you seek right now, but Sam isn't wrong. We're on a time clock here, and any answer I give you will only raise more questions we don't have time to burrow into." He closed the pack with a zip. "I'm not trying to push the answers away, but we've already strayed far too long here. I've got a new plan."

He turned to Sam.

“

Sam,” he said quietly. “Owen has to make it to Ruby no matter what, you understand? This isn't an option or a job. This can't be turned down. He has to be kept safe even if I have to pull rank, or favors, or whatever it is you'd need for me to get you to see this through. It HAS to happen.”

Sam's arms were firmly locked across her chest like a vise as he frowned back at her. She looked at Rob with a dubious glare.

Rob sighed. "Look. I only need to entrust delivery of him from here to The Brew. I can’t take him directly there for reasons I can’t get into right now, but someone I trust has to be with him when he and Ruby meet. He needs to be secured somewhere until we're certain she's been apprised of everything going on. Owen CANNOT be seen as who she was looking for...Got it?”

Sam lowered her arms, scowling. "Fine. But you owe me big time. And I get to state what it's for."

Rob's eyes crinkled as he smiled, "Thatta girl! We'll work out the specifics later, but get Owen to The Brew. Once he’s there, we can regroup. E will arrange everything for you once I get the message drafted. Give it to her so she knows what's going on.”

“

E?” Sam said with a note of disbelief, “What’s ‘E’ going to do?!”

“

E. Will arrange it.” Rob repeated.

A stir of irritation built up within me. It felt like I was being ignored again, but I tried not to interrupt. This sounded important.

Sam sounded confused. “She’s just a Needs proprietor, isn’t she?”

Rob chuckled once. “Yeah, and I’m just some guy who works at the Port,” he said, an ironic grin on his face. “Trust me. E is definitely more than ‘just a proprietor of a Need.’ Do this, and you’ll get triple the norm, guaranteed. I'll even throw in an extra favor for you to cash in at your leisure. But later. Now? We have things to get done.”

Sam opened her mouth before clamping it shut, seemingly mollified by the offer of a second favor. I wasn't. I was getting even more upset, and it was about to boil over. No one seemed to take my questions seriously.

“

Are you guys just going to ignore me here?!” I demanded, “I need some answers, or I’m not moving another step. Spill!”

Rob opened his mouth when a hissing boom sounded off in the distance. We all froze as he flashed his hand in a port-sign warning, a signal for an

urgent, quiet

, and

cautious

command in one. A green light floated downward as if held aloft in the air by some unseen line. A slowly drifting star in the rain-soaked sky.

“

What the—” I began as there was another hissing boom; a second green lightning shot upward into the sky and drifted, this one closer than the first, which had originated inward, toward the Spire.

“

Turn!” Rob hissed at me. He shoved my shoulder around and dug at the pack furiously. I bounced but tried to keep steady as a third and fourth signal shot up, five or so seconds in between each shot. The last one I estimated had only come a short distance past the embankment I’d fallen down.

They were close.

FAR too close.

There was a long pause, and I began to wonder where the next one would come from. I almost dropped when a sudden, hissing thump came from behind my right ear. The area was brightly emerald as a launched flare shot up into the sky to merge and drift in formation with others. The area was much brighter than it had been only a moment ago as the trail of signals traced along the corporate-sided canal edge and toward the Central Spire Complex.

Sam's eyes were wide in near panic. “Rob. Please tell me you know tonight’s code list. That was over a dozen teams just between us and the bridge.” I turned my head and looked up to follow the line along her pointed finger. There were a LOT of the flares. They could've been drifting snowflakes in the wind as they cast a sickly green glow across the landscape, and all but a few of the flares were between us and the bridge Rob had pointed out as our target destination.

“

First one was a signal call,” Rob said for my benefit, reloading the palm-sized launcher with another power cell-like flare before stuffing it back into the pack. “This means someone suspects something’s up, and they’re trying to figure out where we are by marking patrol zones. Before long? They’re going to send out hourly color-coded checks. We need to be gone when they do.”

My stomach sank as I realized our only logical path was now pointing inward, toward the areas Rob had told me we’d been trying to avoid; we were effectively surrounded.

“

We’re going to need another plan,” Rob said grimly, "again."

Chapter 30

Rob nodded firmly as he lowered his arm.

“Take a moment; you don’t know what’s been going on,” he said quietly to Sam. “The entire operation's organized so we’d all be in the dark in case one of us ever got caught. Things have changed. It’s going to reach further than either you or I can even guess. There comes a point where if enough things get stacked on top of each other, it all comes tumbling down. McCreed set it off."

Sam scowled but nodded.

She stared at a spot on the ground, lost in thought, a part of her lip caught in her teeth as she chewed absentmindedly. I would've called it "cute" had she not stood poised to eviscerate me a few moments earlier.

The water's roar was loud, but not deafening from the canal. The smell of the moisture was strong in the air as I approached Rob and Sam warily. My eyes caught a detail that surprised me, one I would consider mundane yet very substantial.

Pockets?! Thank the maker, my hands are freezing!

Sam's hands were indeed shoved deeply into pockets, conveniently positioned near her sides. In hindsight it made a ton of sense; while the sleeves of our jackets were somewhat long enough to envelop our arms and hands in their entirety, mine had been exposed to the rain and cold.

Discreetly, I attempted to slide my hands into the pockets undetected but spotted Rob's lips as they twitched in amusement. Pins and needles gave way to an almost painful warmth, like an immersion in hot liquid. A soft sigh of contentment escaped my lips as the inner lining worked its magic. Within a short period, sensation returned to my aching digits.

Sam's eyes flicked over to me in irritation as she gestured with her chin, breaking my moment. I hadn't paid much attention to whatever it was they'd been doing while I spaced out, but her talk was now directed straight at me.

"He still stinks of Corpoland." She'd said the words like one would describe a piece of garbage she'd seen at a dump.

Ouch.

Rob spoke. “Planned or not, McCreed made a gross miscalculation when Price here became a victim of circumstance." He stooped. "The only reason we caught wind of any of this in time was pure dumb luck.” His hands were busy as the scattered equipment was relocated to sit on top of Paul's body.

Sam spoke again, still undeterred.

"He's going to get us killed. He's too green; I mean, look at him!" She extended one of her hands to wave at me. "The idiot didn't even know his jacket had hand pockets."

Whoops. So I had failed to make it NOT obvious for her too.

“Look,” Rob said, “I think I know what’s got you riled up, but just listen for a minute."

Sam rolled her eyes as she stuffed her hand back into her pocket. "Fine," she said sharply. “Let’s say I believe you, and I’ll thank him later. Still won’t explain why you’d involve him now. Of all times. Adding to our list of problems just makes everything worse for us.”

Rob frowned. “He was kind of already involved. Even before tonight.”

He went quiet as he gave no further information.

“Kind of?" Sam asked. “How can you 'kind of' become involved?! 'Either you are or you aren’t.' You're the one who always says that.”

Rule 15. She called him on it; nice.

Rob sighed, the bone-weary type he'd done often around me. He collected his thoughts. "I do say that, but it's an extenuating circumstance. Hard to explain, but listen..." He gave an outline of what he'd learned since I'd shown up on his doorstep. All the portions I'd told him were paraphrased, but some sections were word for word. I was temporarily forgotten. The chatter shifted to a series of rapidly slung questions and answers. The dots just weren't connecting fast enough for me to follow.

My mental state was in shambles, so, rather than be upset or confused, I practiced something I'd learned very quickly under Rob's tutelage: I chose to not think for a bit.

Rule 13: Go with the flow unless you know.

My input wasn't needed. Rob and Sam had this. They knew what they were doing; they had a plan. I basked in the glow of a temporary reprieve as I just sort of...existed. Zoned out. Stopped the fight with gravity to let myself be carried into orbit.

I continued to not think as my thoughts floated along.

About things.

Things like how obviously suspicious the three of us were, perched adjacent to the edge of the canal in a near-empty green space.

In the early morning.

Suspicious, like with the bodies of two goons.

Without direction, my brain followed the line of thought like a train on a set of shifting tracks.

Yep. Bodies; plural. No way to kid myself here; Tim was dead. I'd carried him, and he wasn't moving. Flat-out: D E A D; Dead.

I was tired.

So tired I just...looked on.

For whatever reason, that statement didn't freak me out as I assumed it would.

Paul and Tim. Just part of the landscape, not people anymore. Objects. Like the rocks scattered around us like islands in the green. Huh. Could be poetry if it wasn't so morbid...

I huffed once before my eyes shifted to the sky, pointedly away from the ground.

Between the small gaps in the clouds, the morning had incrementally turned a dark cerulean shade from the night's inky blackness. The clouds still boiled as rain became a torrent.

I snapped back into real time as Rob's voice came into focus. He placed the items in his hands onto a nearby rock. "It means," he said to Sam, "Owen here was not only witness to but also blamed for and, apparently, charged with the death of the Exchanger before he was rather unsanctimoniously cast out of his home."

Sam cast a nervous glance my way as her hand twitched as if she wanted to extend the hidden blade. Rob looked over at me with a conspiratorial expression. "Don't worry, he says he didn't do it.”

I winced as Sam's hand twitched again. Why'd he have to say it like that?!

Rob chuckled as he raised his hands in surrender. “Sorry! I'm kidding. Don’t worry, he didn’t actually do it.” He winked at me before he moved back to Paul’s body. “Welcome back to Earth, Price. You ready to participate?"

I blinked at him but was more amazed by Sam in the moment. Her hands were already shoved back in her pockets. It had been faster than I could track.

Rob turned Paul bodily over and spoke again.

"The way I theorize it, the whole thing smells like a half-baked plan by McCreed. Seems he wanted to manipulate Owen into being a sacrificial messenger. It's 'half' because I suspect even McCreed was never fully aware of who Owen actually is—just trying to sling things into motion." Paul’s body rolled like a sack of liquid as Rob shoved it along with a heavy boot. Sam moved to Tim's body, and I moved to assist without being asked.

She squinted at me momentarily but didn't say anything.

Rob kept going. “Fortunately, for all of us, I was already up. Waiting for news on why you and Frank hadn’t reported in at midnight as planned.” He smiled grimly, lining up Paul’s body along the edge of the canal bank. “And though you don’t know it—but obviously are upset about it—Owen’s involvement meant we ALL managed to get away. Your merry chase meant nobody figured out where he, you, or I went; they're flailing and stretched thin. It was the perfect order for deliverance."

Sam and I placed Tim above Paul along the edge.

Rob's summary caused me to ponder. Had so much happened in such a short amount of time?

I looked up and to the left, where a chrono appeared. The muted red line of text hovered discreetly within the view of my ocular implants.

0414h

Only four in the morning?!

Sam scowled as I mentally shrugged and closed the chrono display.

She spoke. "But sacrificed to whom? Another Corpo somewhere further up the ladder? What would be the point?"

I too was curious.

Rob tucked Paul's arms in. "The pieces of a rather large puzzle started connecting after Owen came to my Pod to cash in some favors. Once he'd told me what happened, it became obvious McCreed was moving early and doing it badly. The important piece no one else knows is Owen’s mother left him with a sizable endowment."

I froze. Endowment?!

"Wait...” I said, shaking off my surprise as I tried to focus on the 'whys' rather than the 'whats.'. “Why would any of this matter to you guys?”

Sam stood up beside me. We shared a glance. She didn't look angry any longer, just curious. "Yeah, what does that have to do with us?”

We looked back at Rob without further comment.

“It’s more about who Owen is and his status. What it means for us directly is moot. Ruby will be the one who can tell you more.” With a shove of Rob’s foot, there was a splash. Paul’s body disappeared into the darkness of the water. The noise was minimal in comparison to the rush of the canal as the body plunged out of sight. Paul bobbed once before he was pulled by the current out of sight to...wherever the canals ended.

A thought struck me then: I wonder how many people fall into the canals?

There was another splash as it was Tim's turn to disappear. Rob's voice brought me back. “But what's really important is Agatha's dying wish for Owen. It's not surprising McCreed wanted it when he saw it during the audit, but the problem is keeping it away from Ian’s grubby fingers. He's going to want it back.”

The canal might as well have not existed as my brain jumped, and my heart jumped with it.

Rob said my mother’s name.

Well. To be pedantic, he’d actually said both my father’s and mother’s names earlier too. Back at his pod. The real kicker was the specific name he’d used. Very few people knew my mother as 'Aggie.' Even fewer knew her real name: Agatha. It was the one she’d been born with. The one she’d stopped using when she’d left The Glow. The one documented on her CCN.

As far as I knew and had known, nobody in the Stacks ever used or was aware of it.

Except...Rob.

Somehow.

Sam looked baffled, her face a hooded look of confusion. “Wait, so Owen was the one you were—” she started to say, but was stopped as Rob turned.

His face was set in a serious mask as he looked her in the eye. "Yes. He’s the son of Agatha and Ian Price,” he said firmly. “Their only son.”

As if summoned by a spell, the rain chose that moment to increase in intensity. The canal appeared to swell. White peaks formed upon the crests of waves as they turbulently surged past. It made the water frothy and violent.

Sam's face turned a similar shade of white as she directed her gaze toward me, an expression of surprised shock clearly written upon it. There was no more sign of the earlier irritation or hate.

“Oh,” she said.

Chapter 29

Despite the rain, the smell of vomit and blood was still strong as Sam's voice made me jump.

“What kind of idiot leaves bio-trace right where a body is?!”

I'd been too busy dry heaving to observe how close she and Rob had gotten as they finished half dragging, half carrying Tim's limp form down the slope. She glowered at me as they set Tim down with a muted splash. “If they ever get the Internal Investigation Branch out here to figure out who killed their Goons—”

“Don’t worry about that,” Rob said dismissively. They were both only a few feet from where I stood, over Paul's body. His corpse. Rob lifted the considerable mass as if it weighed nothing—if I hadn't seen his mods, I would've questioned how he'd managed it in a single heft.

He moved the body away from the slope’s base, pointedly avoiding the remains of my "oh, so sadly" ruined late-night meal. The solid parts bobbed in the crimson muck like marshmallows in hot cocoa. "If we do this right, we'll be long gone before anyone reports these two knuckleheads as missing," he said.

Sam, still standing by Tim's body, didn't seem fazed by Rob's sudden and unassuming physical prowess. By her lack of reaction, I had to surmise she already knew.

“Hey, new guy!” She hissed at me. “You going to stand there all night or actually be useful, unlike earlier?" I stared at her blankly, still in a daze. The world felt washed out. My movements felt sluggish and desynchronized. The familiar signs of being in a state of shock. Sam had grabbed both of Tim's arms as she started the arduous process to follow in Rob's wake. Like miniature trenches, Tim's boots had furrowed two parallel tracks. My eyes were naturally drawn upward, where I took in Tim's pale face and slack jaw. There was a bleeding wound on his temple, and I still hadn’t seen him groan or move a single muscle since they'd dropped him, still as a statue, at the base of the slope. Muddy brown swirled within the red-tinged puddle water as the tracks backfilled. I fought another series of wracking dry heaves as Sam's shoulders drooped under the weight of Tim's upper body.

She glowered in my direction.

“Look." She said sternly. "I'm sure security will label you as just a witness once they find your vomit in a puddle of 'Smiley’s' blood and absolutely won’t just immediately beat you to a bloody pulp." She readjusted her grip. "Maybe...just maybe you might wanna get a move on if you want to see morning, okay, idiot? Grab his legs."

I looked up, my stomach still churning. Her tone and face shifted as she lost what little patience she had left.

"Now!”

It was a bark. A straight order that triggered something in my brain. It wasn't control or manipulation, just raw commanding presence or, uh...something. My hands moved of their own volition as I grabbed both of Tim’s awkwardly angled legs and lifted them to knee height. A grumble exited Sam's mouth. She looked over her shoulder and guided us to where Rob kneeled over Paul's body. He busily searched the pockets of Paul's uniform along the side of the canal edge as we slowly made our way down the berm behind him.

We're closer to the canal than I thought. Huh.

The air grew colder the closer we got toward the canal’s edge, just beyond the cover of the treeline. The squelching shuffle of our feet on the muddy ground was barely audible due to the roaring of the waters. The smell of moisture was strong in the air.

A little side note: Don’t let anyone ever tell you moving dead weight is easy. It’s all dangling limbs and weird weight distribution. I wasn't managing it very well, but Sam seemed to be a pro at it. Something I didn't want to think too hard about as we labored. Secondly, it was fast becoming obvious I might have done more damage than I realized with that stick. Tim felt more like actual DEAD dead weight. I was too overloaded to absorb the situation very well, but a small part of my brain still possessed a funny feeling about it as we set him down.

Though it was nearly impossible to live in the Stacks and never glimpse at least a small part of the extended network of concrete chutes and metal gates which made up the Canals, before today, most of my views of the Canal had been to and from the Port at a distance. Standing here, at its edge, was likely the closest I’d ever gotten to a direct look into the waterway. It was deep. Even in their currently elevated state, there was a good fifteen-foot drop to the water’s edge. I deepened the amplification on my optics.

If I were to fall in, that would make for a hell of a swim.

I glanced down, my brain struggling to make sense of the inky blackness of the waters below. A river of shadows met my gaze and made me dizzy. Unbalanced, I stumbled forward unintentionally as a wave of vertigo overcame me. Just as I tilted forward past the point of no return, Sam jerked us backwards and scolded me harshly. “You idiot! Don’t look straight down in low light; you want to fall in or something?!”

“Lay off him,” Rob said immediately. He'd taken a step toward me before I'd been yanked back. There was a small pile of objects on top of Paul’s motionless chest, serving as an impromptu table, which had scattered as he'd risen. “Owen’s had a rough night, and you’re only making it worse talking to him like that.”

I grunted as I lost my grip on Tim’s muddy boots, fighting not to stumble over the edge. Tim flipped over, going face first into a deep puddle. Sam had let go of his shoulders suddenly. Mud dribbled from her fingers as she held her arms out to her sides, face screwed up in anger.

“HE has?!” she spat out. She was absolutely not happy. Rob and Sam took no heed of Tim’s precarious situation. No bubbles. No signs of breathing, and—I mean, his limbs had certainly seemed oddly lanky and lifeless when I’d grabbed them. I felt the sinking feeling again as my gorge rose.

Sam pointed an accusing finger in my direction. “Need I remind you this idiot just admitted to me he’s the reason I--”

Rob cut her off.

“Yes.” He'd said it in a tone I’d only heard when he had his gun out.

“Firstly?” Rob said, moving on to frisk Tim’s body, his unmoving body. “It’s NOT a contest. I’m well aware of how difficult a night you’ve had.”

Man I hope I don’t dry heave again; dry heaves are the worst.

In the nose, out the mouth.

“And,” Rob continued, as he pulled more items out of pockets, “need I remind you we knew this was the kind of thing we signed on for? Nobody can claim we were blind to the chances of getting chased or caught, but him.” He turned, waving an arm to gesture toward me. “He didn’t sign up for anything. Not until he was thrown into it.”

I stood stock-still. I’d managed to stop gagging, barely, but the queasiness kept up.

“And just what would a corpo rat even need to sign up for, huh?” Sam had an expression of disgust plainly written across her face. “He isn’t one of us. It’s obvious!”

“He’s lost his job. His home.” Rob jabbed a finger toward me to enunciate each point as he listed them, “They even froze his personal accounts and claimed his life savings—”

In the nose, out the mouth.

Sam crossed her arms, still scowling, “Savings? Awwwww, that’s just too bad.” Her voice took on a taunting tone. “What do I care if a little Corpo is having a bad time? Is Baby Corpo not able to live in his penthouse anymore? Not able to afford next week’s hobby? A Gliz chip?”

I felt irritation at not just her words but her tone. A Gliz chip was one of those things I avoided on principle. The stories I'd heard of users getting lost in the fake euphoria were something I didn't need in my life. It's hard enough.

This time when Rob opened his mouth to counter, I beat him to the punch.

I felt oddly calm. “Pod, actually,” I said.

“What?” She snorted. Her eyes snapped onto mine.

“Pod. I didn’t live in the Spire; I lived in a Pod. Stack D, to be exact. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop acting like I’m some rich-kid Corpo Gliz biter.” I stared back at her. “My partner also left when—”

Her eyes narrowed as she began to stalk toward me. I shakily stood my ground and warily eyed her hands. A blade had flashed out from between a knuckle on her right hand, talon-like and wicked in the early morning low light.

So it was Sam who gave Paul his last smile...Rob's stance changed as Sam continued to rant.

“Okay, so you weren’t just some penthouse playboy and instead slummed it in the Stacks with your ‘partner,’” she said. Two of her fingers sassily curled and uncurled. Punched quotations in the air with one hand. “So who cares?! Doesn’t explain why you’re playing dress-up and ruining my run!” She was leaning forward. Within striking distance.

Rob appeared. He had an arm out to block her approach. “Hold up,” he said. Sam was pressed into his bicep, annoyed but held fast as she tried to push harder. He was a stone wall.

She scowled.

“Why do you even care about this piece of gliz-fragged gutter trash?!” she blurted out. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she stared at the side of his, now, impassive face. Her blade-hand hovered dangerously despite Rob's lack of concern.

“McCreed.” Rob said. He turned his head to look into her eyes.

Sam frowned angrily. “What’s that Corpo got to do with anything?!”

Rob calmly stared her down. “McCreed’s Exchanger threw himself under a heavy loader earlier tonight,” he said. “He’s making a move sooner than we’d anticipated."

She glared at him but didn't interrupt.

Rob continued, "Worse, McCreed provided Owen here with a card. A noose for Ruby to pull on. There's a lot to pack in, and little time to explain it all. The end result is we've got not only a bit of a mystery on our hands, but Owen here is now classified as a deviation. He's Aggie's son. I need to get him out. He had zero choice in any of this OR the fact he's one of the few reasons left I decided to stay and put up with this horrid place."

Besides the sound of rain and river, it was quiet in the clearing. Sam had frozen as if slapped, no longer fighting against Rob’s arm as it blocked her. The knuckle talon retracted with a soft snick.

“That,” she said as she took a slow step back. “Does change things.”