Cenn and Kim clung to dirt. Her eyes hurt from squinting through the rolling dust left by the gang’s departure. Mac had sent them off and was now calling Occam out through his frame’s PA system.

  Kim stayed flat against the ground. He’d seen the warden talk with Occam like it was nothing, but he hesitated now—that was good information to have. Hopefully Arthur was just as sceptical as she was, not fooled into thinking those other frames would really leave him alone.

  She still wondered why Occam’s hull looked undamaged after tanking those hits earlier. Was its hull really that strong? Or had Mac used less powerful rounds on purpose? If she had to guess, she’d say that Mac was still trying to bring Occam down and take it intact.

  She turned to Kim.

  “Let’s move—find better cover.”

  He nodded and began crawling out from under the building. Cenn followed but froze when she heard the march of a meck behind her. She curled her lip, more annoyed than angry, and slid back for a view of the street. Sure enough, Occam’s head—that damn head—emerged from a nearby alley.

  Kim sidled up, “cover, remember?”

  “Can’t,” Cenn whispered, and Kim seemed to understand.

  “That friend of yours is a real idiot.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  The PA from Mac’s meck screeched.

  “You are a pretty thing.”

  Occam halted a block away. Its last step kicked up a dust mote the size of a truck, tumbling end over end between the machines.

  When Arthur didn’t reply, Mac filled the silence.

  “All business then. Okay, let’s talk about the damage you caused. Three of my cycles are toast, and more than a few employees need compensation for injuries. That’s a mighty large bill, amigo. How will you be paying?”

  “We won’t be paying you anything.”

  Hearing Hitori’s voice gave Cenn pause, though it made sense. Arthur was, after all, completely outclassed for something like this.

  “We’ll be leaving Quay as we came—peacefully. Nobody needs to fight. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

  “Somebody’s gonna hurt,” Mac said.

  “If it comes to that, we’ll defend ourselves and eliminate any threat necessary.”

  Mac’s Frame stepped back, feigning insult. Coupled with his gasp over the PA, it gave the illusion of human gesture. It paled in comparison to what she’d observed Occam do these past few days—reacting and responding like it was a person. She hoped one day she could inspect the thing herself.

  It’s the head…that’s why we don’t put faces on our mecks. Too damn human.

  “You know, this reminds me of a lesson I gave earlier—about power.”

  Mac stepped forward. Occam leapt back, and Mac’s laughter filled the street.

  “Nervous? We’re just talking, remember?”

  It might have been Hitori, the pseudo-veteran on the PA, but it was Arthur at the controls, and she was the only backup he had until she freed the crew. She didn’t know how they could help, but more was always better than less. She was about to tell Kim that when Mac moved forward, quicker this time, catching her attention. Arthur flinched again and Mac loved it—showboating like a boxer before a fight.

  “Now about that reimbursement...”

  Cenn scanned Mac’s Frame like she would any meck on the circuit. Odd machine. Practically armless, the closed gauntlet on the shoulder rotated in its socket, and that hook rattled at the end of a chain where the other hand should be.

  But if SportMeck taught Cenn anything, she knew it was more about how you used a thing than how it looked. Unfortunately, Arthur was proof of that. Mac strutted like his meck was the most advanced machine in the system, and that confidence made him dangerous.

  “We won’t be paying,” Hitori said.

  What’s your plan, old man?

  “I want that meck. Piece like that could set me and the boys up, get us off this rock. Hell, maybe I even keep it for myself. The winds of change…they are a blowin’.”

  Hitori didn’t respond, but at least Arthur held a defensible stance.

  “I’ve been in business a long time, would be nice to see any of the other spheres."

  Occam suddenly bolted forward—awkward gait, but fast.

  “Awe,” Mac said as his meck lowered its gauntleted shoulder, “we was just getting to know each other.”

  CLANK

  The gauntlet fired outward, attached to a steel rail, nearly too fast to see. It slammed into Occam’s chest, blowing him off his feet. The gauntlet snapped back into the shoulder socket before Occam hit the ground.

  Cenn started into the street, danger forgotten, but the warden caught her arm. His gaze was steady.

  “Not a thing you can do.”

  She looked back. Occam—Arthur—was already rolling to his side. Mac strolled backward, laughing. If he’d been serious, he’d have finished Occam on the ground. Meck warfare was brutal, momentum was everything, and Mac was just toying with him.

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  She wanted to be in that cockpit. To take control. Beat Mac bloody. But Arthur was the pilot, and according to Hitori, it would only ever be Arthur. There was only one thing to do.

  “Get up!” she yelled.

  Occam’s head turned. Not a pilot’s move—it turned because Arthur had heard her. She shivered. Too human.

  “Get up, Arthur!” she shouted again. “Or I’ll kill you myself!”

  “What’s this now?” Mac said, PA still live. “Friends of yours, Arthur? You wouldn’t happen to be part of the crew would you—” He paused, “with a face like that, you must be the She-devil herself.”

  When Kim tugged her arm this time, she ripped it free.

  “Must be,” Mac said, “hotdog, the strangers in this town don’t know manners, do they Kim?”

  As Mac turned his meck toward her, the warden slipped carefully out of Mac’s line of sight, but Cenn couldn’t—not anymore. Rare was the day she passed up a challenge, and never had she run from a bully. She wasn’t about to start now. And if she was being honest, the nickname was growing on her.

  She stared into that godless metal frame with a well worn posture.

  “Fuck you.”

  Mac laughed, “might want to move a little quicker, warden.”

  He pivoted, and the gyrating fist rotated to face Cenn. Up close she saw the reinforced carbon plating across each knuckle. She heard Kim run, but a soldier knew when she was toast. She gave him the bird.

  CLINK

  The fist shot forward, blotting out the light. She flinched as a blur slid into view from her right—then a crash and a wave of debris.

  Her eyes fluttered open to find Occam looming above, having intercepted the strike and ricocheted it into the building behind her.

  Mac tumbled backward as the fist retracted at an awkward angle. He rotated it several times before it locked, laughing all along.

  “There he is!” he crowed, lunging forward. His frame slammed into Occam, both tumbling over Cenn’s head. They landed in the ruins of the building, dust and concrete raining down.

  Kim staggered toward the warden depot and Cenn sprinted after him, the sounds of war pounding immutable behind them.

  Cenn caught up with Kim as he pushed through a pair of sliding doors. The clamor of the street dimmed, replaced by the steady rumble beneath her feet. Inside, the warden’s office was alive with a fight of a different kind.

  “What’s going on here?” Kim demanded as they rounded the corner.

  “Warden,” the younger deputy said. “Sam’s been trying to get at the strangers.”

  “Get at? Put your boot in your mouth, Remmy. Mac’s looking for debtors, let’s give him what he wants, Kim.”

  Sam, the short, unfortunate-looking one, gave Cenn a once-over with his good eye. She returned it without blinking.

  “Put her in the cell, Kim,” Sam barked, fumbling but finally leveling his rifle at her chest.

  She just stared him down. Compared to Mac in that Frame, this Sam was a child having a tantrum. A laugh bubbled up, and she let it out.

  “See it now, Kim? That’s the She-devil Mac’s boys were talking about. He’ll be wanting her too.”

  “Put it down, Sam,” Kim said.

  Sam stepped back, keeping the cell in his sights. “Don’t be telling me that when we got work to do.”

  “Cenn?”

  She turned. Mina stood beside Murphy, both behind bars. Relief flickered, and was replaced with amusement.

  “Cenn!” Val shoved her face between the bars. “What the hell happened to your face?”

  Sam harumphed, “they’re in cahoots!”

  “Shut up,” another voice said.

  “Roman? That you?” He appeared behind the others, bloodied, but she couldn’t keep from grinning.

  “Got your supplies in there? How about information?”

  “Ha. Ha,” Mina deadpanned.

  “What’s happening out there?” Murphy asked.

  “Arthur’s fighting a local psycho.”

  “That psycho is Mac Kenzie,” Kim interrupted, “now I don’t know how the lot of you got involved with him in the wrong way all on your own, but you’ve picked a pocket filled with vipers.”

  “Speaking of pockets,” Roman said, “don’t listen to the warden, Cenn. He put us in here on Mac’s orders.”

  Remmy jabbed a finger toward the cell, “I’ve heard enough out of you!”

  Kim spun, shouting at them all, “I’ve had enough of all of you. Now shut up a moment.”

  He pulled off his hat, raked weathered hands through thinning hair. Turning back to the cell, his voice softened, “that your man out there? The one in the meck?”

  Murphy answered, “it is. As I said, we’re under special orders.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Kim nodded at Cenn, “as I’ve heard…”

  Exhaustion weighed his words.

  “Kim, hold on,” Sam said. His rifle still raised, though now only vaguely pointed. “You’re not believing them, are you? Going soft?”

  “They’re not with Mac, Sam. That banging outside? That’s them fighting him. Never seen a meck like that, have you?”

  Kim and Murphy locked eyes. Tension stretched between them like a tug-o’-war with lightning.

  “Can’t say I believe everything you’ve said,” Kim admitted, “but I’m betting you’re not here to cause harm. Problem is, your man’s about to wreck this whole town if the fight keeps up. We’ll be fine here—one of the few buildings built to last—but the rest and everyone outside is in danger. If Quay’s oxcellerators or gravwells go, they’ll have nowhere to run.”

  “Kim, what are you saying?” Sam asked.

  Kim turned on the deputy, “I’m not saying, I’m asking,” then back to Murphy, hand outstretched, “if I spring ya, will you get your man outta town?”

  “We will!” Mina said, but Kim’s eyes stayed on Murphy.

  “I appreciate it, Miss, but Mr. Bravista here says he’s your escort. So I’m asking him.”

  Cenn bristled. She thought she’d shown who was in charge when she stood up to Mac.

  Murphy slid his hand through the bars, clasping Kim’s.

  “Deal. But when it’s done, we leave. And you help us arrange transport.”

  Cenn doubted Kim could’ve pulled away even if he wanted, but he didn’t.

  “Arrange transport?” Kim muttered, “I’m not sure you all won't end up in a dark place or worse if I let you out, but sure, I’ll do what I can.”

  The ceiling shuddered. Dust rained, but the building held.

  “Now listen here, Kim,” Sam snapped, “they ain’t coming out. I’ll sooner put you in that cell before you try.”

  “Sam, enough is enough. If Mac’s going to open fire on the town we can forget any accord. We’ve got civilians to think of.”

  “And after? When Mac’s chopped these strangers up, who do you think he’ll blame for it?”

  “Sam,” Kim warned, hand on his pistol. Cenn saw the stiffness in the wrist she’d bent earlier.

  “Easy, Kim,” Sam’s grin spread, “you can’t draw faster than I can pull this trigger. Maybe it won’t be bad with you gone, actually. I’ll take that star on your chest, be a better warden than you ever was. Alfa, no one would blame me for doing you in after everything you done. So go ahead, take another step. Give me more reason.”

  Kim lowered his hand, voice weary, “Sam, you’d be a terrible warden.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Firstly, you don’t have the temperament. Second, that eye of yours has never been as good as you claim.”

  Fear—or fate—made Sam glance aside. Snake emerged from the back hall, grabbed the rifle barrel, and yanked it up. His haymaker smashed Sam across the jaw. The deputy spun and collapsed face-first.

  Snake slung the rifle on his shoulder, grimaced, and nodded something dark to the warden.

  Cenn stepped to Kim, hand companionable on his shoulder.

  “What he means to say is—let our crew out, and we’ll handle your problem.”

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