Didi and the Gunslinger Page 15

  He nods, looking down at the cloth-wrapped bundle in his hands. “I know it,” he says, soft, unapologetic. “Always been, Didi.”

  “You stole the chip from me.” She rests her forehead on her knees. “The only thing that will keep Dad safe.”

  He doesn’t answer, but she catches movement form the corner of her eye as he sets the bundle on the ground next to her.

  “Found this in the courtyard,” he says. “Funny, the thing said your name before it collapsed.” He stands, heads for the door. “I know you’ll never forgive me. But I’m not going to give up on you, Didi. This isn’t us.” He sounds choked up, falls silent a moment. “I’ve never been so ashamed of my family.” Another pause. “Just give me a chance to make it right.”

  He leaves, closing the door behind him. She looks up, shouts a curse at the exit, turns sideways, eyes on the bundle.

  Feathers. There’s black feathers under the strip of cloth. All thought leaves her, desperate hope, once dead, waking like a fire bird from the ashes of her heart as she lunges forward and pulls free the covering.

  “Pip!” Didi gathers the crumpled form of the crow in her arms and rocks him. She can feel the damage to his little body through their contact, eases him back and into her lap, tears making it difficult to get a good look at him. At least they left her goggles. She pulls them down, examines her small friend with the holographic lenses and feels her heart twist one last time.

  He’s badly damaged, much more than ever before, his cyborg parts crushed in places, organics still and quiet. She doesn’t have the tools she needs to resurrect him, though she can feel, with some relief, the tiny, frail beating of his heart.

  He’s alive, barely. For how long she has no idea. And no way to help him recover.

  “Oh, Pip.” Didi hugs him again, gentler this time. “I’m a right fool, dragging us into this mess. I promise if somehow we manage to get away, I’ll take care of you. I swear I’ll make you whole again.”

  He doesn’t respond, feathered body silent and still.

  It’s the most heartbreaking moment she’s ever endured.

  She has no idea how much time passes as she rocks her crow friend in her arms and tries not to think. Thinking is too painful. Better to just give in to her despair and wait for the end to come.

  When the door opens for the second time, she doesn’t look up, though she knows it’s Bo by the way his big feet cross the floor. She doesn’t resist when one of his hands grasps her arm, pulls her to her feet. She’s so surprised he’s manhandling her, she looks up, her first moment of interest meeting a scared but determined expression on his face.

  “Are you coming,” he asks, eyes tight and grim, “or not?”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  “The Underlord’s people are here?” She won’t go willingly after all, feels a tiny, furious animal wake in her chest, claw and fight and shriek until she’s sure it will tear a hole in her body and run away on its own.

  He turns and only then does she see the unconscious form of the large woman collapsed in the hall outside her door. She gapes as Bo tugs on her.

  “I told you I wouldn’t give up on you,” he says. “Turns out I’m a bigger fool than you are. Now, if you want to escape and maybe not have my people kill us in the process, you’ll get your feet moving, Didi Duke.” He manages a grin at last. “This is a rescue.”

  Never mind he’s the reason she’s in this room to begin with. “Why?”

  He exhales heavily and shakes his head. “Really? We’re going to have this conversation right now?”

  She resists him, can’t trust him. Her jaw sets and he sighs, running his free hand, shaking, through his messy hair.

  “Let’s just say I have a fundamental clash of ideals with Hist right now.” So, he’s in trouble, too, then is he? And he’s looking for his own backup. She’s not sure she wants to be that for him.

  Still, she’s quite aware by now he’d never leave without a security blanket of his own. Didi sticks one hand out and glares. “Give it back,” she snarls.

  Bo gapes at her. “What?”

  “Really?” She mimics his tone perfectly, tapping one toe on the floor. As far as she’s concerned, she’s already going to the Underlord, has made her peace with that fact. This opportunity will only work out for her if he has what she wants, what she needs.

  Bo hesitates, biting his lower lip, face contorting. “Didi, come on.”

  “The chip.” She feels her nostrils flare. “Now.”

  He groans, but finally digs his hand into one pocket, depositing the shining, gold chip into her hand. Didi’s heart palpitates as she returns it to the secret hiding place in her clothing. If only she had enough of a charge to fire up her protections, he wouldn’t be stealing from her again.

  Just let him try it. She’ll take his rugging hand off at the wrist.

  “Are you happy now?” Bo’s panic rises, a physical thing, his blue eyes darting toward the door. “You’re resistance has likely just signed both of our deaths in plastanium.”

  “I’m done talking,” she says, pushing past him, Pip tucked against her side. She steps over the fallen woman in the hallway, turning to glare at him again as her hope—newly restored and now fed by a fury so powerful she is sure she could kill him with it if she really wanted to—surging in her veins. “Hurry up and get us out of here.”

  He looks like he’s going to say something before tossing his hands and rushing past her. Didi runs after him, down the hall and dodges when he does through an open doorway. The sound of feet thudding on the floor makes her anxious, distant shouts telling her someone has found the fallen guard. But they are still running, through the maze of the building and, as Bo makes turn after confident turn, Didi begins to think maybe they might escape after all.

  And yet, she has the chip again. The Underlord’s men are here. She could just turn herself in and do the trade. Not ideal, but an option. So, why is she still running as if her life depends on it?

  Because, she realizes, it does. She’s been a fool all along, but she’s done with that now. No trade, no giving herself up. The Underlord will just kill her and take the chip, then kill Dad, likely. No, she needs firepower and the means to rescue her father, a way to bring the Underlord down, like she said to Hist.

  She needs the gunslinger.

  Bo stops abruptly, back pedals so fast she trips over him, almost lands on the floor. He catches her, pulls her back, through a doorway, just as someone shouts.

  “Well,” he says, characteristic grin wide and sparkling. “That was a bit of bad luck.” Bo turns, looking up and down at the window at the far end of the room where they stand. Didi hears feet heading their way, slams the door, but there’s no lock.

  They are trapped.

  Until Bo leaps up, grasping the window sill, and kicks out with both feet at the plas window. She’s sure he’ll end up with shattered bones. That stuff is harder than rock. And, when he falls to the floor, groaning, she realizes his idea is a good one.

  He just doesn’t have the right equipment.

  Her boots zing to life, the deflectors at full power. With a shout of defiance at the solid surface, Didi runs for the window and leaps at the last moment, both feet impacting the slick window.

  She’s either just killed herself or made their escape. And, as the plas shatters even as the frame collapses under the outward thrust created by her boots, she catches herself laughing, hysterically.

  It’s a five foot drop to the street below, but the cushion of her deflectors catches her at the last second and softens the landing. Someone hits the ground hard beside her, Bo’s groan enough of an identifier to tell her he’s at least alive.

  She doesn’t wait for him, running down the alley way toward the street. His footfalls follow a moment later, staggering and off beat a bit before they settle into something more steady. His hand grasps hers to the sound of pursuit, but they have a lead and, with a tight tug on her hand, Bo leads her deeper into t
he city.

  He pulls her up a few moments later, tucking her in behind a pile of recycling, bending at the waist to catch his breath. Bo looks a little worse for wear, not that she cares.

  “You’re welcome,” she says.

  He grins at her. “We’re even, the way I see it.” He pushes her further into the shadow of the pile as someone runs by the end of the street. It’s not until silence falls again, punctuated by the normal sounds of the nighttime city, that he speaks again. “But, I might have a one-up, if you’re interested.”

  She is, but hates to admit it. “Impress me, thief boy,” she says.

  Bo’s face crumples, and it takes her a moment to realize the crushed expression is fake. “You cut me, dear lady.” He sniffs. “Cut me deep.”

  His antics make her feel better and she laughs despite her determination to hate him forever. “Just tell me.”

  Bo turns and gestures to the end of the street. “Well,” he says, “while you languished in relaxation and laziness, I did my best to figure out this problem of yours.”

  “Uh-huh.” She cradles Pip, wondering how much longer he has. “You mean your people were going to turn you over or punish you and you decided to help me instead of letting them kill you for bringing this to their door.”

  “Ah,” he says. “Well, perhaps there was something like that involved. Still. I did bring you your crow.” He seems surprised and curious about Pip but doesn’t comment further. “And, in case you were wondering, I located another friend of yours.”

  Didi grasps Bo’s arm with one hand, desperate need burning inside her. “You found him?” She has gone from hopeless and helpless to the scrape of a maybe. She’ll have to make it count.

  “I have.” Bo bows at the waist. “And, if you’re of a mind, I’ll be happy to take you there.”

  She pushes past him again, already on the move. He might have screwed up so far, but Bo will be forgiven at last if he really can take her where she needs to go.

  “Get me to the gunslinger,” she says over her shoulder. “And we’ll see about that reward.”

  ***

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  In a way, she is grateful for Bo, especially when he finds her an underground, abandoned machine shop and helps her break in. She spends the next tense hour repairing Pip while Bo paces and waits with a total lack of patience.

  She does her best to ignore him. He’s the one who’s gotten her into this mess, isn’t he? And yet, without him, she would have no idea where to find the gunslinger and Pip would likely be dead.

  It’s a close thing, as she triggers his cyborg systems back to life with the help of a small genny she is able to activate. His metal parts sizzle and spark while his organics twitch, but it’s not until his red eye opens, servos inside whirring, she exhales in relief.

  “Pip.” She strokes his feathers smooth while his beak opens and shuts, heart settling into a steady rhythm, if a little fast for her liking. “Stupid bird, what were you thinking?” The same as he’s always thinking, she reckons.

  But, he finally clears his throat and surprises her. “So glad I found you, Didi,” he croaks, voice hoarse. “I found Tarvis.”

  Didi’s entire world shivers before tunnel vision drives her torso forward, her hands grasping the crow firmly despite his still damaged condition. “You what?”

  Even Bo seems interested, drifting closer.

  “They might be cruel and mischievous,” Pip says, “but my kind, they know everything.” He coughs softly, wings fluttering ever so little. She should be working on getting him functioning, but she can’t think past what he’s saying. “I should have told you why I went.” There’s his apology, a real one. “But I thought if you knew my plan you’d make me stay.”

  She would have. Or would she? Any chance to find her dad… let the crow think so. It made it easier on his heart, if not hers.

  “Stupid bird.” She blinks back tears, bends and kisses his black brow. “Well done.”

  Her hands shake, but she gets back to work. She’ll need him functioning, now more than ever. She fills him in on what’s happened to now, while the corbie’s red eye spins toward Bo, suspicion practically oozing from his feathers.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him for you, Didi,” the crow says, loud enough the young thief hears him, surely. Bo grins in response, arms crossed over his broad chest.

  “A talking crow,” he says, good humor in his voice. “You should take this show on the road, Didi. You’d make a mint in the rich houses off-world.”

  She doesn’t comment. “Where’s my father?” Because, Dad is first on her list. But she doesn’t stop there, a little surprised at the heat and emotion in her voice when she speaks again. “And tell me about where the gunslinger is being held.”

  Bo shrugs, looks out the small, dusty window, the only source of outside information in the underground space. Didi is rather taken with the place, now her heart’s desires are coming true. She’d love to make it her own, set up shop here. It has everything she needs and more. Such a pity someone just abandoned it.

  “Your cyborg is at a G.C. depot,” he says, answering her second question as though she should know what that means. “Three mechcops, no humans that I know of. All automated. They’ll likely decom him again and ship him out, is my guess.”

  Didi pushes her bangs out of her face with one wrist, hands slick with oil and a few drops of the crow’s blood from his organics as Pip squirms beneath her, testing her repairs long before he should. “Would he be gone already?” She won’t lose hope, not now. If she can’t recover the gunslinger, she’ll find another way.

  “Not likely.” Bo drops his arms to his sides, points at Pip. “But we shouldn’t be much longer. There’s a transport to the moon in a few hours. If he’s going out, it’ll be on that ship.”

  She’s not done with Pip, but she doesn’t have much choice, it seems. When she rights him on his feet, his cyborg claw stiffens, forming a hard ball of metal he can’t seem to unravel. But, when she sighs and reaches for him, Pip shakes out his wings and takes erratic flight.

  “This will do,” he says. “Let’s go get the gunslinger.”

  Didi hugs him in gratitude and lets him take his favorite perch on her shoulder, feeling his club foot slide through the lip of her jacket for support. Bo chuffs a sigh and grins, heading for the exit.

  “Finally,” he says. “Follow me.”

  She does, blindly, knowing he could be leading her into more danger. But, the precious chip is in her secret pocket again—she checks it every minute or so to be sure—and she has Pip back. If she can pull off the rescue of the gunslinger…

  Well. One step at a time.

  The depot isn’t far, as it turns out and, before Didi can prepare herself—is there any way, really, to prepare herself?—Bo is spinning on her with the biggest grin ever. Something dangerous and sparkling dances in his eyes as he points across the street in the darkness. She takes in the tall fence, the gate, the two mechcops emerging as Bo speaks.

  “Wish me luck. And be safe, Didi Duke.” His lips press to her cheek, hot and tingling, before he runs off, heading right for the gate. Didi stares, mouth gaping, fingers brushing over the place his lips touched, even as Bo stops at the gate and waves at the mechcops.

  They have him, the gunslinger. He’s on some kind of floating pad, silent and stiff, but intact from what she can see. Bo whistles sharply, drawing the attention of the towering machines who spin their turrets toward him, lights bright in his face, casting his long shadow back toward her.

  “Bo Rylen,” he bows to them with a hearty tone. “At your service. I believe I’m on your most wanted list…?”

  The mechcops freeze and stare. Didi’s heart pounds as the first one speaks its mechanical command.

  “Identity confirmed. Bo Rylen, male, seventeen years. Prepare for arrest.” Its system must be linked to the yard, because the gate slides open, the sizzle of a protective charge shutting down with the act. Didi understands, processes
the opportunity and is running before she can stop herself, while Bo heads the other way with a wink in her direction.

  Both mechcops pursue him, leaving the gunslinger standing on the floating pad. Didi can’t believe her luck, sends a silent thanks to Bo for putting himself at risk, hoping he will escape but unable to think about his safety just then. Stupid mechcops, left her exactly what she needed.

  It’s not until she steps up on the pad, her weight not even registering on the mags beneath it, she remembers Bo mentioned there were three protectors of the yard. Just as the third mechcop emerges from the warehouse and focuses its attention on her.

  No time. She grasps the gunslinger’s weapon from his side holster and jerks it around, pointing it at the mechcop. The thing vibrates in her hand, the sight instantly assessing and registering the target even as she pulls the trigger.

  She expected a blast of plasma. Didi did not, however, plan for the giant ball of death that emerges from the muzzle of the gunslinger’s weapon. Tuned to each situation, its internal systems create exactly the amount of force needed to take down opposition.

  Didi lands hard on her behind, almost sliding off the edge of the platform while Pip squawks in her ear. She gapes in shock at the mechcop, heart pounding, blinking through the dazzle of light from the plasma charge. It takes her a moment to clear her sight, just in time to watch the smoking remains of the machine topple slowly on its side, the turret smoking and red.

  “Farging snargle,” she whispers, looking down at the gun in her hands. Has visions of blasting her way into the Underlord’s lair. And looks up.

  He towers over her, still silent. This weapon is his. Imagine what he could do with it, now he’s prepared? Didi catches herself grinning, an adrenaline-fueled burst of energy driving her up to her feet. She stuffs the gun into his holster, hands shaking so violently she has to try a few times to make it right. Hurry. She has to hurry. The blast will surely bring attention, the other two mechcops probably not far away. She needs him to wake up.