3

The corridor led down a staircase lit by fluorescent tubes, and Luna could hear the hubbub grow louder as they approached. The adrenaline from the fight hadn’t yet worn off, and her heart was still thudding. She took deep breaths, as if that would somehow keep her calm, but there was no calming down in a situation like this. If the Legion found out about those dead bodies in the dumpster then the whole place would go on lockdown.

Why did those fuckers have to ask so many questions?

When they got to the bottom of the staircase Luna saw where all the commotion was coming from. More of those spider-eyed gang members were spread out across a foyer, one with busted escalators, thermopaned elevators, and a cupola through which the blue-grey sky shone. Sheet-metal covers hung over vacant kiosks while an octagonal hologram circled a power pole at the centre, each face showing a different Japanese symbol. The red-painted walls were losing their colour, becoming frayed and worn with neglect.

Through a window-wall on the far right side there had been a large, semi-circular gym with dumbbell racks, benches, exercise machines, and all sorts of different yoga mats – though none of those were used as much as they were stood on by grunting men and women. Luna’s suspicion that their muscles had been gene-hacked was no longer a suspicion at all. She could tell by the unnatural amount of muscle rippling from their bodies. They were curling weights the size of truck wheels – maybe five hundred pounds’ worth – and she knew that there was no possible way someone could achieve that level of strength from basic training alone.

Altering your own genes was dangerous, very dangerous. So dangerous in fact that the ZLB Triangle banned it ten years ago after multiple reports of genetic mutation which led to the deaths of over ten thousand people. The only way to do it now was by either moving to another state or, of course, paying for an operation under the black market. And who the hell would trust someone from that department?

Apparently the Legion.

The other people in the facility were either drinking, sitting at barstools and laughing, or puking their guts out over the marble floor.

“I see you guys on Camera 05,” Liz said, her voice more staticky than usual. “You’re in the underfoyer right now. The main base is farther up and lower down.”

“Yeah, I figured. They don’t keep valuables this close to surface level. They’re like molerats.” Luna’s eyes trailed along the ceiling and landed on a camera sticking out from the power pole. It blinked methodically with a deep-blue lustre. She gave it a subtle thumbs up. Sweat was now streaming from her face – it seemed to leak out through the arachnofibre – and her hair was growing more damp with each second. She leaned on the barrier, lowering her gaze to the cyan arrows which pointed to an open split. Through it, she could see more of the mall, although it had been darker in that area. A lot darker.

“Luna,” said Liz.

“Sup?” she said.

“I’m not sure you’ll have access to the underbase,” she said diffidently.

Luna stood back, straightening her posture. “Uh, what are you talking about?”

“Look at your screen,” she said.

She did.

“You see Camera 14?”

Luna moved the window away from the pop-ups so she could get a better view of the place, eventually uncovering Camera 14. It was a live feed of a dark, cogwheel-shaped tunnel, and at the end of it was an armoured guard standing in front of an airlock door, and next to that was something triangular, a glowing object which reminded her slightly of the access slot, only it was larger and possessed an oval-shaped pit.

“Yeah? What’s that supposed to be?” Luna said.

“Facial recognition scanner,” Liz said.

“A facial what now?”

“The only way to get through this door is by doing that,” she explained. “You need to put your face up in front of the scanner and… well, yeah. It scans it and if you’re not recognised it won’t let you through.”

“Why didn’t you tell us this sooner?” Vanderman asked.

“One, because I didn’t know what it was until I saw someone use it literally like ten seconds ago,” she said. “And two, because there’s still a way around it.”

“How?” asked Luna, deeply curious.

“You just gotta, y’know, have the suit copy whoever has access.”

Luna laughed with disbelief. “And who has access exactly?”

Liz took a moment to respond. “Yeah, I’m not sure about that.”

Luna groaned. “Liz….”

“Well they don’t put that sort of info out there,” she snapped. “No one knows who owns the Legion or what the hierarchy is, same here. You’re just gonna have to figure it out.”

In a low, harsh voice, Luna said: “How?”

“Ask around,” she said. “You forget that you’re a part of their group now.”

Vanderman said, “Ask around without looking like total outsiders? Like undercover cops?”

“It’s too late to turn back now,” said Liz. “You’re gonna have to come up with somethin’, and soon. Before the others realise the front guards aren’t there.”

Luna shook her head. “Alright, listen. Keep us updated. If anyone comes out that door, screenshot ’em so we have something.”

“The lighting’s a bit dark,” she said. “But I can do that. You’ll have to find them yourself though. I’ll keep you updated on the cameras. Or alternatively you can look at it yourself but… I figure you’re too busy for that.”

“You got that right.” Luna turned to Vanderman. “C’mon. I don’t want people listenin’ in on our conversation.”

He nodded, pulling the invis-case from over the railing.

They ambled down the split-stairway and kept their distance from the right side. They walked under a metal cover – a shutter turned upright by the looks of it – until they were well isolated.

“Where to, Liz?” Vanderman leaned against the kiosk alley.

“You should start by making your way through the middle section,” Liz said. “There should – should – be a hallway that leads to an outside area, and then if you travel along the right you should – again should – find a cross passage that leads down into the underbase. That’s just from what I see, based on the cameras and numbering. I might be wrong. You might have to figure some things out for yourself.”

Luna supposed, with Liz as the scout, she would have to figure out a lot by herself. Suddenly she missed that asshole Chip.

Nonetheless, she agreed and the two followed the cyan arrows into the dark split. There were more gang members in this area, and there were several large machines divided and fixed between a series of long tables. Some she recognised as Jensens; they had been triangulated around glass tables, on top of which projectors were casting semi-transparent holo-screens. Written across the displays were binary numbers, like the ones she had seen on the Scarlet Cave monitor. Each seat was occupied by a gang member, while cyber doctors – or what she presumed were cyber doctors – catered to them, jacking them into the control panel and tweaking their systems using a side computer built into the framework.

And she realised that, although the doctors were part of the same gang, they looked much different. They had normal eyes, and an annular torchlight was built into each one of their foreheads. They wore Kevlar armour, and their whey-coloured cybernetic arms shone with various tattoos: dragons, lions, spiders, and occasionally a naked woman.

Wires hung loosely from the ceiling, all connected to a strange-looking machine which pistoned smoke into three intake vents. She could smell the semi-toxic cloud from here, and she coughed, coughed a good bit actually, before listening to Liz’s voice telling her to head towards the rightmost side.

But then she heard another voice, high and robotic:

“Oi! You two!”

Her heart skipped a beat. Shit.

They turned around, slowly. A woman approached them, her eyes normal, a white torchlight bulging from her forehead. Here in the dark, her hair appeared red, an iridescent sort of red, and III XI was etched above her chest armour and glowing beneath her cybernetic neckpiece.

Luckily none of the other gang members paid much attention. This conversation has to end quick, she thought. One way or the other.

“You ain’t supposed to be here!” The woman grabbed Luna’s shoulder.

She slapped it away. “Hands off. We got a package to deliver.”

“A package?” she replied, dumbfounded.

She nodded. “Can’t say much about it, but Rick Steel needs us down in the drug lot as soon as possible. Don’t worry.” She raised her keycard. “We have access.”

Her eyes sharpened. “Names?”

“Freya, Scratch.” She pointed at herself and Vanderman respectively.

But the woman didn’t look convinced. Quickly, as if swatting a fly, she brought her finger up to her neural port. Her torchlight shone dimly, turning a dark blue, and then a rhombus-shaped scanlight flew across Luna’s face.

Her heart raced even faster. Shit. She tightened her grip on her weapon’s buttstock, careful not to break it.

The light vanished. “You check out.” The woman did the same thing with Vanderman. “And you do too.”

Luna’s grip relaxed, and her eyes bugged with surprise. How is that possible…?

“Alright,” the lady said. “Just thought I’d make sure. We get all sorts of folks through here but normally they come in bigger bunches. Righto.” She turned away and headed back to manage the Jensens.

A voice whispered in her ear: “You’re welcome. Now head around the right side.” Liz. Of course.

But relief didn’t come as soon as she would have liked. No, there were still so many things to take into account. For one, her battery percentage. She hadn’t looked at it for over two hours, so when she went to check it she saw that it had fallen by seventeen per cent: . She still had a good few hours left in it, so long as she didn’t use Invisibility Mode – that would eat it up faster than a wolf tearing into a deer haunch.

She hid the suit settings when the camera system swung up again, showing only the phosphorous lights at the end of the day-lit hallway on , and continued her way past the tables and machines, walking with discomfort. She and Vanderman made it to the unguarded hallway and entered the outdoor area. She felt the sun beat down on her, heating her up like an Irish stew. She wasn’t sure if she would last much longer in this mask.

The outside turned out to be another foyer, this time made up of three floors with spiralling escalators. Surprisingly, those were operational, carrying a good few men and women. No roof; only a long aperture which let the sky shine through. The clouds had separated and were thinning out by the hour. The rain had stopped completely, and according to her MD, the temperature had risen to a monstrous . And that was only in this area. She was much hotter in the suit. Much hotter.

The ground level was packed with various vending machines, scrap-metal shacks, and unclean tarps which flapped lazily from their woodposts. More members on the ground, virtually the same in appearance, each enjoying a bottle of Tidal Wave Cider and taking in the afternoon sun, chatting amongst themselves like schoolchums in a playground.

“I need a drink,” she said.

“Can’t handle a bit of heat?” Vanderman said.

“If we’re gonna stay around this long then we ought to actually, ya know, not burn to death,” she said.

“Think these ciders are free?” He pointed.

She followed his finger over to one of the kiosks, where a spider-eyed merchant was serving one of his customers.

“Is it really worth askin’?” Luna said, unsure.

“Well,” replied Vanderman, “it’s better than what you said.”

She sucked air through her mouth, then wedged the invis-case between a graffitied electrical box and a dead plant rack, telling Vanderman to do the same (she didn’t want anyone else questioning what they had inside).

An odd sulphur smell slipped into her mask. Wincing, she began walking towards the merchant’s kiosk.