throat. “And what if I kill you first?”
In response, he pulls at his scrubs, undoing the knot at his side and lifting them away from his bare chest. There’s a second box taped to his skin, nestling in thickets of wiry black hair. Two red wires run out of the box, burrowing into his skin, right over his heart. There are tiny, crusted rings of blood around the edges of the insertions.
“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” he says.
Very slowly, I get to my feet. Every movement sends a dull boom of pain echoing through me, radiating out from the stitches.
“Every second,” he says, “the devices inside you send out a signal. The device on my heart answers it, and it only works as long as my heart does. If your devices don’t receive that answering signal, they’ll detonate. Keeps things honest, wouldn’t you say?”
He turns back to the machine, bending over it.
“Look,” I say. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want. I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“Do you remember Amira Al-Hassan?” he says, not looking round.
Amira. My crew leader, my mentor, my friend. The head of our tracer crew, the Devil Dancers – the fastest package couriers on the station. The woman who tried to murder me on Janice Okwembu’s orders, who I killed in self-defence.
He looks at me, and taps his scrubs over his heart. “My name,” he says, “is Morgan Knox.”
I can just see the words stitched into the fabric, so faded they’re all but vanished. “Amira and I were in love,” he says. “And you took her away from me.”
I stare at him. “Amira didn’t have a…”
“You think she told you everything?” he says. His voice is nothing more than a hiss, the hatred in his eyes spreading out onto his face, twisting it into a rictus of anger. “You think she shared every part of her life with you?”
His fingers twitch, brushing the detonator button. I choose my words very carefully. “She never said anything to any of her crew. I swear.”
I pause. Could Amira have had a secret lover? It’s possible – she certainly kept a lot of things from us.
“She loved me,” Knox says after a moment, looking away. “I know she did. She delivered cargo to the hospital I was working at.”
Remorse has crept into his voice. “She was beautiful. I felt like we could talk for hours. Every time I saw her…”
I can fill in the blanks myself. This is not good. Not good at all.
“It took me months to find out what happened, but I did,” he says. “You killed her.”
I take a deep breath. Every word feels like a step on a tightrope, like a single wrong move could send me plummeting into the abyss. “She was trying to kill me, so I fought back,” I say. “It’s what she trained me to do.”
“I know,” he says. “It’s why I’m giving you a chance to make it through the next few days.”
“I don’t get it. You got to put these … these things inside me. What more do you want?”
“You?” he says. “You’re not what I want. You killed her, and you deserve everything that’s coming to you, but I’m after a bigger prize.”
For the first time, he smiles. “I want you to bring me the person who brainwashed my Amira. I want you to bring me Janice Okwembu.”
17
Riley
His words hang in the air between us.
“No way,” I say.
“You’re not exactly in a position to refuse.”
“No way, because it’s impossible. She’s in max security. There’s no way to get her out.”
I can already hear Royo’s words in my mind: Everybody’s entitled to a fair trial by an elected council. That includes her.
“You’ll just have to figure it out,” he says. He turns, his leg making the motion awkward and jerky, and limps over to the other side of the room, yanking open a drawer and rummaging through it. “After all, if you can travel all the way through the Core and take out Oren Darnell, a prison should be no problem.”
I screw my eyes shut, hoping that when I open them it’ll all
In response, he pulls at his scrubs, undoing the knot at his side and lifting them away from his bare chest. There’s a second box taped to his skin, nestling in thickets of wiry black hair. Two red wires run out of the box, burrowing into his skin, right over his heart. There are tiny, crusted rings of blood around the edges of the insertions.
“That wouldn’t be a good idea,” he says.
Very slowly, I get to my feet. Every movement sends a dull boom of pain echoing through me, radiating out from the stitches.
“Every second,” he says, “the devices inside you send out a signal. The device on my heart answers it, and it only works as long as my heart does. If your devices don’t receive that answering signal, they’ll detonate. Keeps things honest, wouldn’t you say?”
He turns back to the machine, bending over it.
“Look,” I say. “I don’t know who you are, or what you want. I don’t understand why you’re doing this.”
“Do you remember Amira Al-Hassan?” he says, not looking round.
Amira. My crew leader, my mentor, my friend. The head of our tracer crew, the Devil Dancers – the fastest package couriers on the station. The woman who tried to murder me on Janice Okwembu’s orders, who I killed in self-defence.
He looks at me, and taps his scrubs over his heart. “My name,” he says, “is Morgan Knox.”
I can just see the words stitched into the fabric, so faded they’re all but vanished. “Amira and I were in love,” he says. “And you took her away from me.”
I stare at him. “Amira didn’t have a…”
“You think she told you everything?” he says. His voice is nothing more than a hiss, the hatred in his eyes spreading out onto his face, twisting it into a rictus of anger. “You think she shared every part of her life with you?”
His fingers twitch, brushing the detonator button. I choose my words very carefully. “She never said anything to any of her crew. I swear.”
I pause. Could Amira have had a secret lover? It’s possible – she certainly kept a lot of things from us.
“She loved me,” Knox says after a moment, looking away. “I know she did. She delivered cargo to the hospital I was working at.”
Remorse has crept into his voice. “She was beautiful. I felt like we could talk for hours. Every time I saw her…”
I can fill in the blanks myself. This is not good. Not good at all.
“It took me months to find out what happened, but I did,” he says. “You killed her.”
I take a deep breath. Every word feels like a step on a tightrope, like a single wrong move could send me plummeting into the abyss. “She was trying to kill me, so I fought back,” I say. “It’s what she trained me to do.”
“I know,” he says. “It’s why I’m giving you a chance to make it through the next few days.”
“I don’t get it. You got to put these … these things inside me. What more do you want?”
“You?” he says. “You’re not what I want. You killed her, and you deserve everything that’s coming to you, but I’m after a bigger prize.”
For the first time, he smiles. “I want you to bring me the person who brainwashed my Amira. I want you to bring me Janice Okwembu.”
17
Riley
His words hang in the air between us.
“No way,” I say.
“You’re not exactly in a position to refuse.”
“No way, because it’s impossible. She’s in max security. There’s no way to get her out.”
I can already hear Royo’s words in my mind: Everybody’s entitled to a fair trial by an elected council. That includes her.
“You’ll just have to figure it out,” he says. He turns, his leg making the motion awkward and jerky, and limps over to the other side of the room, yanking open a drawer and rummaging through it. “After all, if you can travel all the way through the Core and take out Oren Darnell, a prison should be no problem.”
I screw my eyes shut, hoping that when I open them it’ll all
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