“Oh, you fucking motherfucker! You fucking motherfucker!”

I just lay there hurting and watched Dawson, unsure how to take this. I figured I had nicked some vital data bus or wire bank or something. I pulled myself up with effort, and Dawson just kept twitching and screaming. I kept the gun on him and leaned against the table, breathing hard. I knew the Monks had a lot of hidden weaponry, and I wasn’t taking any chances. When the far door snicked open, I looked up tiredly, but didn’t have a chance in hell of fighting any more battles. Our version of Canny Orel appeared, guns in hand and moving fast. Seeing me, he paused, glanced at the twitching Monk, and then back at me.

“You’re making a goddamn racket in here, Cates,” he said.

I bent to pick up one of the nasty-looking cutting tools that had spilled onto the floor and brandished it at him weakly. Behind him, Gatz, Kieth, Milton, and Tanner pushed into the doorway.

“Your cover’s blown, Cates,” Kieth said breathlessly. “The whole place knows you’re here and how you got in. Lucky for you there are dozens of these arrival kiosks, and Ty’s set off alarms in every one of them to cover you for a bit. Might buy us ten minutes.”

“Come on,” I panted. “Help me hold this down. We’ve got work to do.”

XXX

AND WHEN I DIE, I’LL BEQUEATH YOU TO SOMEONE

“Ty hates to tell you this,” Kieth said breathlessly as they all pushed into the room, “but the entire complex knows shots were fired inside.” He glanced down at a small device with a glowing blue screen. “Ty’s been monitoring the EC’s bandwidth, and Christ, it just exploded.”

I nodded weakly. “Come here and help me cut off this fucker’s arms and legs.”

Orel remained standing in the doorway, looking around lazily. They were dressed in remarkably good suits, hair slicked back, each of them bearing a smart-looking black bag, the standard kind of telecom bag the Vids used. I’d seen teams just like them at all the press conferences and riot scenes, and Orel, though old for the job, did have the polished, well-fed look of a Vid reporter. Gatz walked over to Dawson, who still twitched and sputtered. Milton and Tanner walked directly over to me, though, and took one arm each.

“Sit down, chief,” Milton said, her voice oddly gentle. “You look like you’re gonna fall down.”

I shrugged them off, shivering uncontrollably. “No time.”

Gatz glanced up from Dawson. “What are we doing with… this?”

I took a deep breath. “Cut off the arms and legs. I hit something important in his neck. I’m taking him with me, as a tour guide.”

“You motherfucker!” Dawson screamed, his voice warping in pitch and volume. “I’ll kill you forever!”

Kieth was still staring down at his handheld. “Probably the motor function data bus,” he said distractedly.

Gatz hesitated. “He’s going to draw a lot of attention.”

I waved wearily at the air. “We’re already screwed in the attention department. Get to work on him. Then you guys have to get back to being a fucking disturbance.”

“Okey,” Gatz said.

“How’d your end go?” I asked Milton.

She shrugged. “We were waiting on the right moment, when the alarms suddenly rang out. Fuck if we weren’t the only people standing in that fucking room after a minute. So we just followed the floorplan, found our way in, and waltzed in unopposed, as they say.”

“It was good work, that floorplan,” Tanner grunted.

“You were the goddamn disturbance,” Milton added.

“Whatever,” I said, putting my weight on my legs experimentally. “We’re inside. Dennis Squalor’s in here somewhere.”

“Not somewhere,” Kieth interjected, his eyes glued to the little screen. “I can tell you exactly where he is. He’s a goddamn data-well. Everything’s going to and from him in this place.”

I looked at Kieth. “Okay. You’re with me, then. You, me, and Barnaby Dawson.”

You took what came your way. Luck was as much a part of success as surviving murderous ex-SSF Monks. I figured I’d earned a lucky break.

Kieth acted like he hadn’t heard me. “This is impossible, though, the packet rate is just unbelievable.” He looked up and paused for a moment. “What did you say?”

Behind him, Gatz fired up the bone saw, white noise swelling to fill the room. He paused.

“Watch out. There’s gonna be sparks.”

Kieth stepped closer to me. “Ty isn’t muscle, Mr. Cates! He did not sign up to do the heavy lifting!”

“You’re with me,” I said weakly, “or you’re with Mr. Dъnmharъ over there. Make your choice.”

Kieth looked over at Canny, who stood on guard, guns in hand, watching both doors. He looked back at me. “Fuck.”

“The rest of you,” I shouted, “are on diversion duty. This complex is filled with Monks. Get them after you. Keep them chasing. Give us twenty minutes. Mr. Kieth, you can locate Squalor within twenty minutes?”

Kieth waved his device distractedly. “Ty’s got him located now,” he wailed as sparks exploded behind him. Dawson’s cursing turned into a fluid, high-pitched howl I hadn’t imagined Monks could produce. “That isn’t a problem. The problem is, Ty didn’t sign up for this shit.”

I ignored him. The sparks ended suddenly, and Gatz held Dawson’s arm up over his head.

“Shit, this is heavy.”

“Move!” I snapped, adrenaline giving me sudden energy. “We’ve got five thousand Monks heading this way so quit fucking around!”

Gatz dropped the arm and fired up the bone saw again, the screechy whine tearing at my ears. He bent down, and sparks erupted into the air again.

I allowed myself to lean on Milton and Tanner a little. “We’ve got exit strategies?” I asked. I knew we did. But my mind was going in a million directions, and I needed focus.

Milton nodded. “We do. Assuming some of us make it out of here to need them.”

I nodded. “I’ve got an idea about that. Kieth, how are we on time?”

Kieth studied his screen, biting a thumbnail. “A minute. Maybe one and a half. The good news is, this area of the complex appears to be routinely deserted, as it’s used to process incoming… er, converts, who are then moved inward for, um, monkification. The Monks are coming from other areas.”

“You’ve got thirty seconds,” I shouted over to Gatz.

“Workin’ on it.”

I pushed Milton and Tanner aside and stood swaying. I cleared the chamber and dropped my used clip onto the floor, slammed a new one into place, and racked a shell into place. “Kieth, when they’re done, grab the Monk and follow me.”

Kieth looked up from his screen, his face a mask of outrage. “Grab the Monk?” he said in disbelief. “You’re joking. Ty can barely carry this.”

I bit my lip and resisted the urge to turn Kieth’s nose into mash. “Put it in the fucking box and pull it along,” I said instead, gesturing at the small hover I’d been brought inside in.

I left them all behind and limped over to Orel, pausing next to him. I couldn’t look at him. It didn’t make any sense, but I was angry, angry about Marilyn Harper. It was ridiculous. I’d killed plenty of innocent people, or at least not worried much when they got killed in the course of things, but this one I couldn’t get past. I wasn’t sure if it was because the old bastard had willfully ignored me, or the fact that it didn’t have to happen. One more day, it wouldn’t have mattered anymore. I ground my teeth and struggled to find my voice. Orel just stood there, elegant and immaculate.

“Do you want me to help on your end, Master Cates?” he asked pleasantly. “Or continue babysitting these bottom-feeders while we make hay with the Monks? I don’t care much as long as I get my compensation. One way or the other.”

His voice was neutral. I made painful fists, my knuckles aching along with every other part of me. With effort, I swallowed the instant rage his calm, arrogant voice had raised in me. “No,” I croaked. “You’re the distraction. I’m on Squalor.”