Clay pulled the sidearm from his holster and leaped in front of Ursza, stopping at the shrine’s entrance. “Okay, just stay behind me, whatever happens,” he whispered. He checked the load on the plaser, moved the beaded curtain aside, and gazed out into the hallway. “Okay, clear,” he said, covering the corridor and motioning for Ursza to move out of the entrance and to the right.
Once in the corridor, he tapped the transmit button on his com. “Improvisational exit,” he said intently, only half-hoping that Ness was awake and monitoring the frequency.
“Roof. Southwest corner, five minutes,” came an immediate reply.
Clay had little sense of direction but was almost positive they were opposite the side of the city Ness was directing them to. “The tracker. Do you still have it?” he asked calmly.
Ursza shrugged, pulled the tiny disk from under a bracelet on her left wrist, and tossed it to him. He instantly activated it and threw it into his right outside pocket.
“Oh, jeez,” he heard Ness say over the com. Okay, roof, northeast corner, fifteen minutes.”
“We’ve got to get to the roof,” Clay said quickly.
Ursza sneered and pushed her way past him, heading in the direction opposite of where he was indicating. “Not yet,” she said.
Against his better judgment, Clay followed her, no more than two steps behind, gun held in a ready position. He was still amazed at how gracefully she maneuvered in crowds, seeming to shrink and stretch to move between people. At the same time, he lumbered along, colliding with bystanders and occasionally being shoved into the walls. Within the first dozen strides, she was already ten paces ahead of him.
They came to an intersection, where she wasted no more than three seconds getting her bearings before breaking into what, to him at least, was a full sprint. He did his best to catch up without knocking anyone over or flashing the gun in a manner that would startle bystanders. She paused at the next intersection and waited for him to catch up. When he reached her, a figure leaped out of the doorway brandishing a ten-centimeter flickblade, artfully throwing it directly at Clay’s head before ducking back for cover. Ursza shoved Clay backward, hard against the wall, and instantly crouched, allowing the blade to pass harmlessly over her head and mere centimeters in front of his face, where his head had been a split second before.
“Zāogāo,” she muttered under her breath.
She was moving fast, he thought, remembering the alleyway outside the hostel the morning before. Her reflexes and speed were too fast for any normal human. “You’ve had some upgrades, haven’t you?” he asked, dumbfounded.
The girl merely smiled, grabbed the flickblade from the wall where it had embedded itself, and pushed Clay down the hallway opposite their attacker. Clay turned back around in time to see her throw the blade back, embedding itself in the man’s shoulder as he looked out from his cover to reacquire them.
“Go!” she shouted, directing him to keep running.
“That’s the man who gave me the lotus!” Clay said, surprised.
“Maybe. Maybe not. That’s Jonathan 4. He’s Cerberus.”
“Cerberus?! How did they know we were here?”
Ursza rolled her eyes and guided Clay down a side corridor to his right. She outpaced him, running up a tricky, narrow flight of stairs into a communal lounge or living room where a small family played a makeshift board game. While she leaped over threadbare sofas, easily sidestepping the people seated, Clay was forced to circumnavigate the obstacles and again began losing ground with her. The living room opened into a shop with three long counters that displayed various curiosities and crafts. Before reaching the far side of the room, they heard screams of panic coming from behind them.
Ursza grabbed the gun from Clay’s hand, fired seven shots back through the doorway, which aimlessly struck the far wall beyond, and gestured for Clay to keep moving.
The next room was another small apartment with a balcony big enough for two people to stand. Before Clay could process it as a possible exit, Ursza had climbed over the side, grabbed the top of the railing, and dropped out of sight. Clay ran to the edge to see that she had allowed herself to drop three meters to the courtyard below, rolling once with the impact and instantly springing to her feet again. She was three sprints away before she turned around and grimaced at him as he continued to peer down at the drop.
Refusing to be outdone, Clay put his left hand on the rail and swung the rest of his body over. He struck the ground with more force than he had expected in Notosian gravity and fell on his side with the wind completely knocked out of him. Ursza quickly ran over, gun covering the balcony above, and helped him to his feet. “Can we keep in mind,” Clay said between gasps for air, “That I’m 40 years your senior and have not had any cybernetic modifications to my nervous system and muscles?”
“Your problem,” Ursza said, guiding him diagonally through the courtyard.
“This is the wrong way,” he insisted. “Our ride is on the northeast roof. You’re leading us southwest.”
“Your ride,” Ursza said, sprinting across the courtyard and through a low doorway. Clay did his best to keep up.
No way in hell was she getting away from him, he thought.
She pressed onward through two small food stands, a dry goods shop, and three apartments until she reached another of the long hallways Clay now recognized as a main thoroughfare through the loosely defined neighborhoods. She followed this for a couple of dozen meters before sprinting up two flights of stairs and down a smaller hallway until she came to what he now recognized as one of the Buddhist roadside shrines, this time themed in blue instead of white.
Ursza entered, confidently crossed around the central pool, and slipped behind the garden wall. Clay followed closely, nearly losing her in another small series of interconnected rooms, most inhabited by one or two people who sat silently in meditation. Instinctively, he wanted to apologize to each of them for the intrusion, but by now, he had learned that such activity was commonplace and did not bear mentioning.
He found Ursza again, this time in a small study area. A monk sat cross-legged on the floor, studying from a book as holographic formulas swam around him. Ursza greeted him with a slight bow, then stood silent and attentively in the center of the room. Clay waited in the doorway. A few seconds later, a large man entered the room.
“I have to leave. Do you have it?” Ursza demanded of the newcomer, not raising her voice. The man led her into the next room, leaving Clay behind.
“You travel with our little sister?” The man on the floor stood up and walked over to Clay.
“It would seem so.”
“You’re a protector then?” the monk smiled broadly.
“I’m just trying to help,” Clay said, desperate to change the subject. “What are you working on? That’s some pretty advanced math there.”
“Math is the language of the universe. My shastras are in Sanscrit, which is a language of man. Sometimes, I think it’s more complicated than math. I am Yogananda Rimpoche.” The monk bowed reverently.
“Sean Clay,” he said, returning the gesture. “You still write Shastras?”
The monk nodded and smiled. “Only when important new knowledge or wisdom is to be passed down, yes. Otherwise, it might be seen as self-serving.”
“Interesting. There is wisdom to be found in Harba City?”
“There is wisdom everywhere, Sean.”
Ursza abruptly entered the room again and walked over to Yogananda. Clay caught a glimpse of her vanishing a blue datarod beneath the sleeves of her robe as she entered. She gently grabbed him behind the neck and pressed her forehead to his. “Gàocí, Roshi,” she said solemnly.
“Be well, mèimei,” the man replied, then bowed respectfully to Clay before leaving the room.
Ursza spun around and darted back the way they came, barely acknowledging Clay. With renewed energy, he ran after her, catching sight of a gun in the reflection of a mirror ahead of them. His arm shot out, grabbing Ursza by the sleeve and pulling her back just as six shots rang out, striking the plascrete across from them. She crouched low, eyes scanning for another route, unwilling to lead the enemy back toward the shrine. Clay was ready, however. He retrieved the gun from his pocket and fired blindly at the gunman, safely concealed around a corner. Ursza instantly sprang forward, following the direction he had shot. By the time Clay realized what was happening and started after her, she had already tackled the man and was crouched with one knee on his broken neck as she checked the power load on the plasrifle she had taken from him.
“That’s the same man as before, with the flower,” Clay said, gesturing to the man’s face.
Ursza shook her head. “Jonathan 2.”
“Listen to me. You are outnumbered and outgunned. Cerberus wants you dead. You can’t keep this up forever. They’ll keep coming. I can get us out, but we must get to the northeast corner roof.”
She shook her head, stood up, and continued down the corridor at a confident pace.
Clay could already feel the cold wind of the outdoors whipping down the hallway. When they reached the park, Ursza held up one hand, motioning for him to stop. It was dark now, with the only light coming from a few glowing lanterns strategically placed throughout the area. He said nothing but regarded her with curiosity. His enhanced vision labeled and showed him two dozen people in the courtyard and on the balconies. Many had power sources of an indeterminable nature. He had no friend or foe detection capabilities and could not tell which were possible weapons.
“Cover me, then break right,” Ursza said, throwing him the plasrifle and holding out her hand. Clay obliged by tossing her his smaller, handheld version. Without acknowledgment, she took off in a full sprint through the park with speed and balance that seemed almost impossible for a human. She was halfway across when the first two shots rang out from a balcony in the corner. Clay took cover in the doorway and answered with four shots from the rifle. Then, from the opposite corner, three shots came directly at him, striking the ground at his feet, boiling the snow with an angry hiss of steam.
He began running to his right under the cover of a small hedgerow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ursza had already taken out the first sniper, turned to her right, and was firing blindly at the second as she dove for an open passageway back into the city. The second gunman continued to fire at her, allowing Clay to pass underneath him and stay close to the side of the building on his way to the opening where she crouched. He heard a brief cry and the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground behind him just as he approached.
Without a word, she grabbed the plasrifle from his hands and tossed the pistol back again before turning and making her way deeper into the structure. They crossed half a dozen of what appeared to be gaming parlors that ended at a spiral staircase that rose three floors into a communal kitchen. There, five men sat eating sauce-covered steamed buns from a large plate. A gaunt cat stood underneath the table, eating what scraps it could get. Ursza scooped up the cat and kept walking. None of the men protested or even seemed to notice.
“Tracker,” Ursza said, holding out her hand. Clay instantly retrieved the tracker and handed it to her. She affixed it to the animal’s collar and gently tossed it behind her, stomping her foot three times on the floor to persuade it to hurry back the way they had come.
She took off again, heading down two more corridors to a wide stairwell. She paused briefly, then motioned for Clay to follow her down one flight. They stood on the lower landing as the sound of rushed footsteps filled the stairwell, and six men, dressed in flak jackets and carrying rifles, barreled toward them, exiting at the last minute through the passageway and after the cat.
“Those guys aren’t Cerberus,” Clay remarked. “They’re military.”
She nodded. “Tokusha, Prevo’s secret police. Brutal killers.”
“I thought the government never interfered in Harba City.”
“We live in strange times.” Nodding once with satisfaction, Ursza climbed the stairs and continued ten flights until they reached the roof. Clay grabbed his comm. “We’re here, let’s go!”
“Thirty seconds,” came the reply, and Clay could see the lights of an aircar circling at a safe distance above them.
“We can come back for Hēi Gēzi if that’s what you’re worried about,” Clay said, putting a reassuring hand on Ursza’s shoulder.
“I told you; I don’t trust you. I’ll find my way out,” she replied, walking toward the roof’s edge overlooking the park.
“Unless you’ve got another supply of Shard in your robe, you don’t have time. The clock is ticking until the pain comes back. What are you going to do then?” Clay pleaded. In one last, desperate attempt to save the situation, he ran to her, reaching for her arm, but she quickly pulled away. He was quicker with his other arm and pulled her toward him. Securing both arms firmly at her side, he decided to take a risk as she struggled and deftly lifted the datarod from the fold of her sleeve and into the palm of his hand. “Let me help you. I promise nothing bad will happen to you.”
She struggled against his grip with the ferociousness of a trapped animal. “Everyone who knows about Keraunos dies,” she said, growling, before finally breaking free and stepping back two large paces. “One of us is next.”
The noise of the aircar grew louder, and a spotlight flicked on, illuminating Clay. “It doesn’t have to be that way. We can help each other,” he said, holding his hand out. “I promise I can help you.”
“This planet has no honor,” Ursza said, running straight toward the roof’s edge and leaping straight into the air. Clay ran after her, stopping at the railing. He looked down and saw her clinging to a balcony three stories below. She allowed herself to drop expertly, catching herself again two levels below that. The process repeated twice before Clay lost sight of her in the darkness. Still, he had no doubt she would reach the ground without injury or incident.
Clay stared into the darkness momentarily, trying to plan his next move.
“Come on, Clay, we’ve got to go,” Ness called over the comm.
“I’ve got to find another way out, Ness. You need to take the case with the cipher and drop off the grid.”
“That’s ridiculous, Clay. You’re in the middle of Cerberus territory, and three Government drop ships have deployed troops throughout the city. You’re about to be in the middle of a war zone. Now get in, and let’s get gone.”
“We can’t be in the same place, Ness. We can’t even know where the other is until the time is right.” He opened his hand for the first time, revealing a blue datarod that he held up so she could see it from the aircar.
“Holy shit, Clay.”
“Just make sure the case is secure and keep monitoring this frequency until I contact you.”
Ness said, “Good luck,” before pulling the aircar into a climb and streaking off back towards the central district of the metroplex. Clay waited in shadows momentarily, studying his map overlay and ensuring the government transports didn’t break off and follow her unnoticed. Once satisfied, he walked across the roof to another staircase and climbed back into the city.
© 2024 Darrin Snider. All Rights Reserved.
