“Damn, what’d she do? Autonomous mode? In the streets? Shit, look at these treads. Practically worn smooth.” Tooly grumbled to herself as she worked, dug deep into the mechanisms of Nightmare’s cockpit. She yanked out a wire and dug deeper, to find the burned-out part beneath. Gray silicon crumbled to ash in her grip, and she scowled deeper. “What did I tell you about pushing her to top speed? Dammit, I’m going to run out of new parts…”

She paused and stared over her shoulder at the scrap, then sighed. “Guess I’m in the best place to find more.”

A small, dark shape caught her eye. She snatched up a few tools, then climbed to the lip of the cockpit. “Oy, kid. Let me take a look at that arm of yours!”

Sasha glanced up. His eyes narrowed, and he turned to run off.

“You want it to fall off in the next fight? That’s your call.”

He hesitated, then walked over.

Tooly climbed down from the cockpit, tools jangling over her shoulder. She met him halfway and motioned for him to sit.

He crouched down. Suspicious, he eyed her tools.

“Arm,” she demanded.

He turned it toward her. Tooly slipped it out of the sling. A half-dozen razor blades rattled to the ground.

“Uh…” Tooly stared.

An innocent look on his face, Sasha snatched up all the blades and disappeared them into various pockets, then turned his shoulder toward her again.

“Anything else in there?”

Sasha hesitated. He glanced down. A few more glimmers vanished into his pockets, and then those pure, limpid eyes turned to her again.

Tooly sighed and continued unwinding the bandages. There was a pause, and then she looked at him. “How?”

“Wrap it?” he asked, blinking.

Tooly sighed and wound the bandages loosely around his arm again. “I’d like to take a closer look at you sometime.”

He flinched.

“Guess not.” She helped him put the sling over his shoulder. “Why do you want to be wrapped up, anyways?”

He shrugged.

“Always a pleasure chatting with you.”

A roar passed overhead, then paused above them. It quieted, and Arelia descended, helmet under her arm. “I was looking for you. Could you fix my flightsuit?”

Tooly gave her a look. “Magic word?”

Arelia blinked, taken aback. “Please?”

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

Tooly gestured her closer.

“It’s the neckpiece, it got a bit bent…” Arelia pressed a button on the side of the suit, and the front panel popped forward with a hiss and hinged out at the waist. Underneath, she wore a form-fitting black jumpsuit, nodes at the collar and waist where it hooked into the suit. She finagled with the panel for a moment until she found a second button at the hinge. The whole panel popped free of the suit, and she handed it to Tooly.

Tooly took it and looked it over. “Looks like it’s the armor that got bent, the circuits should all still be intact. Good news, because the circuitry on flightsuits is always…” She made a face.

“Nasty?” Arelia guessed.

“Delicate. Intricate. A mess, in a word. You’ve got, what, a quarter-inch thickness to work with, and an entire airplane’s worth of circuits, wires, failsafes, and fallbacks to build in? Plus—not that it comes in when we’re dealing with a inch or so of neck armor, but—if you add too much weight one way or another, you throw off the weight distribution of the whole suit, and good luck to anyone stuck in it. Flightsuits are ‘Steri-damned death traps. Give me a battlesuit any day. War harness. Whatever the fuck we’re calling them now.” She pulled out a pair of pliers and wrenched the neckpiece back into shape. Tooly held out her hand. “Helmet?”

Arelia handed it over. Tooly matched the helmet to the neckpiece, then clenched it under her armpit and adjusted the neck again.

“This isn’t going to work,” Sasha grumbled, kicking a piece of scrap. It rattled over the ground and vanished into a pit.

Tooly grunted. “Have some faith. The neck armor’s just bent a bit.”

He glared. “The fight.”

Arelia breathed out. “I agree. There aren’t enough people. Even without any help, the Regis Group could wipe this scrapyard out without breaking a sweat.”

Sasha looked at her. “We have to cut off the head of the snake.”

She bit her lip. After a moment, she nodded. “I have to talk to Father. It’s the only way.”

“Talk,” Sasha scoffed.

Arelia glared at him. “He’s a reasonable man. He’ll listen.”

“And ignore you,” he muttered.

She sighed. “You aren’t wrong.”

Sasha extended two fingers, clicking them together like scissors. “Chop, chop.”

“I’m not going to kill my father. But…” She put a hand on her chin thoughtfully. “If we kidnap him, isn’t it the same? As long as he isn’t there, he can’t command the group.”

“Take him hostage?” Sasha pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Hey now. You two aren’t seriously thinking of kidnapping Laredo Torre, are you?” Tooly asked.

Sasha blinked at her innocently.

“We have to do something. Do you really think fighting in the scrapyard is going to stop anything?” Arelia asked.

Tooly sighed. She adjusted the neckpiece one last time, matched it to the helmet, and handed the front panel of Arelia’s flightsuit over. “I think it’s worth the effort.”

“But will it do anything? Will it stop the Group?” Arelia hooked the panel back into her suit and pressed it into place.

“June thinks it will.”

“And you?” Arelia met Tooly’s eyes, a blazing fire in hers.

Tooly shook her head. She played with Arelia’s helmet, turning it over in her hands. “I’ve seen her pull off worse odds.”

“Odds have nothing to do with it. As it is now, Father will stop at nothing to destroy the Block. It doesn’t matter if we win this fight. There’ll be another, and another, until he finally comes out the victor. We have to take the fight to him. It’s the only way for us to win.”

“Is this about us winning, or about you winning that spat between you and your father?”

Arelia shrugged. “Can’t it be both?”

For a long moment, Tooly stared at the helmet in her hands. All at once, she handed it over. “I heard nothing. Whatever you two do, keep it between yourselves. And listen, I told you not to. This is a bad idea and it’s going to kill you both.”

From where he crouched, Sasha snapped a salute.

Arelia nodded somberly and took the helmet. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I already regret it.”

Abruptly, Sasha stood. He turned and stared into the distance, eyes piercing through the twilight.

Arelia followed his gaze. Regis Tower stood in the distance, tall and proud. She narrowed her eyes, the same rush of adrenaline running through her. “Just you wait, Father.”

--

In the instant Sasha looked up, high atop Regis Tower, a slender figure paused, one foot off their helicopter. He turned, short black hair billowing wildly in the wind from the swirling blades overhead, and stared down into a dusty red-brown yard, far, far below. His eyes narrowed, and his lips quirked up.

“Soon.”