Ben Chaney - Son of Sedonia

“My whole life, I wanted to see the other side,” Matteo said, half to himself. “Almost saved up enough for a Lifter, too. But I’d rather die tryin’ than die in the Pits. If you’re goin,’ take me with you.”

“Ha HA! My man! Yasin! This man’ll be needin’ The Mark! We Liftin’ all the crews soon for this anyway, so we’ll roll you in with that, too.”

Here it was in front of him. The ID, the ticket, and the ride. I’m going. It didn’t hit him like he’d thought. It didn’t hit him at all. The idea of actually crossing the Border hovered in front of him like a boldfaced lie. He shoved the thought into place. Yeah… yeah, this is it!

Across the room, the Black Hood left the table of scrap and went searching through a stack of drawers. Came up with a bottle of ink and a tattoo gun.

“And,” Suomo said reaching behind his back, “you’ll need one of these.” The Boss took Matteo’s hand, opened it, and placed a nine millimeter handgun in his grip. Matteo stared down at it. The truth of the lie. The touch of the pistol-grip in his palm… the cold metal… the weight. The night on the roof replayed in full color. The fear he’d felt when gripping the handle behind his paralyzed brother’s back. Jogun’s plea. No blood . He let go of the gun now as he did then.

“I can’t…”

“Can’t? What’chu mean, ‘can’t’?”

“I promised.”

“Promised Jo? Bullshit, man. Look, if you want in you gotta be in . I can’t have a Nine wit’ me who ain’t willin’ to pull the trigger when shit goes down! ‘Specially over the Border! What’chu think, they’ll just arrest us over there? Send us packin’ back on home? Nah, man, they’ll shoot you dead on site, sayin’ you was a ‘Terrorist,’ whatever the fuck that means!”

Matteo’s eyes stayed fixed on the weapon.

“Listen, man, we just doin’ the best we can out here, tryin’ to get a piece of somethin’ you could call a real life. You gotta keep focused on what’s in front of you and make a choice. Tell you what— Yasin!” Suomo snapped his fingers. “Bring me that bag o’ his.” Yasin obeyed. Suomo held the bag in one hand and the gun in the other. Matteo looked back and forth at the two.

“Seein’ as how you family, I’mma give you somethin.’” He dropped the gun in the bag. “One week. Think about it. Come see me.” Suomo pulled the drawstring shut and held the satchel out. Matteo hesitated, then took it. Suomo didn’t let go right away.

“I’m a businessman, little brother. And that chunk o’ metal in your bag? That’s just a tool of business.” Matteo nodded, stood on shaky legs, and met Yasin at the hatch.

“Oh, one more thing,” Suomo said, tossing a small plastic bag to Matteo. The seeds shifted inside. It felt no less than three whole grams. Maybe three and a half!

“Triple salvage and then some. Oki got’chu pretty good before you clocked him… go see the Doc.”

THE TECHNO-ORCHESTRAL MUSIC died at the end of the GloboMetropolitan News eleven-o-clock broadcast. Barking voices of the station technicians carried to Liani’s desk where she sat idly, rifling through newsfeeds and blog posts in her Neural, waiting for the call she knew to be coming. The pick-up recording she and Corey had filmed on the Virton Hub landing deck had been a rush job at best. Throwing up in the porto-can had trashed her makeup. Her normally radiant skin had looked pale. Sick . I looked sick. Like a Sway junkie right outta the damn Rasalla District. On top of that , Sato’s thugs had mag-wiped all Corey’s background footage of the Sato-Finley handshaking. She found herself wishing they had been as thorough with her chip as they had with Corey’s. First chance she got she had backed it up on an external mem-stick, deleted it from her RFID memory, and cleared out the history.

Her fingers drummed on the desk next to the mem-stick. She picked it up, worrying at the smooth edges with a fingertip. Despite weighing no more than a gram, it felt heavy. A sudden clack-clack-clack of high-heels approached behind her. She palmed the memory stick and put her hands in her lap.

“ Heyyy Liani!” junior correspondent Melody Stewart smiled at her through perfect white teeth and injected red lips. Liani took a deep inner breath and unsheathed her own smile.

“Melody! Listen, I just loved your piece tonight. Who knew that a Pekingese could be trained to do that with a parachute?”

“Aww, thanks Li-Li! She was too cute! Loved your piece too, by the way…shame what that salty air does to those gorgeous curls of yours, though. And seasick? I don’t know what I would have done in your place!” Melody turned her lips into a pouty frown. In my place . Liani’s smooth jaw tightened as she thought of a riposte. The bubbly blonde cut her off before anything came.

“Oh! Where is my head? I just came from Mr. Kirnden’s office, and he wants to see you right away.” Melody chirped. All Liani could do was suck her teeth. She wished she had fangs so she could open the bimbo’s scrawny throat. He sends her? Her?!

“ Really? He could have called…you didn’t have to trouble yourself. It’s getting late and you should be on your way home. Those rail hoodlums on your route make me so worried for you!” said Liani. Imagining Melody getting pushed off a Superway terminal platform helped revive her smile.

“ You’re too sweet! But I’ve gotta burn the midnight helium tonight…no rest for the hungry, right?”

“Right,” Liani said . Maybe you should go eat a sandwich then you skinny—

“Well I hope it’s good news! You deserve it, Ms. Liani Ray!” Melody winked one of her over-sized baby blue eyes then clack-clack-clacked away with a swinging of curvy hips. Male correspondents took poorly hidden glances as she passed. Liani squinted at them, brow furrowed. A low whistle came from behind. She whirled to find Corey leaning on an empty desk.

“I don’t guess I can start calling you ‘Li-Li’ can I?”

“Not if you want to keep breathing.”

“Damn. It’s kinda cute.”

“Is there something you need?” Liani opened her purse and shoved the memory stick in a side pocket. Zippered it shut as hard as she could.

“Kirnden wants to see me too.” Corey said. Liani clutched her purse in her lap.

“Could he know?” asked Liani.

“Not sure. I doubt that security guard said anything…would’a cost him his job.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” She tried to find the will to stand. Her legs felt frozen. Corey dismounted the desk, walked to her side, and offered her his hand. She accepted and wobbled to her feet.

“Don’t worry. Just let me do the talking,” said Corey. The urges to both hug and slap him came at once. Fine line between chauvinism and chivalry . Though she couldn’t deny her relief.

They walked side-by-side through the bullpen to the lofted head-office that loomed above. Its broad incline windows reached out over the room and reflected the cool light from the desks below, making it impossible to see in from the outside. Corey’s sudden hand on her shoulder made Liani realize she was shaking.

Awards decorated Kirnden’s enormous loft office. A gold obelisk here. An upright glass plate with embossed medallion there. Who knew what they were all for but they had the desired effect on visitors. Them and the inclined windows that overlooked the cityscape beyond. Liani always felt like she could be pushed off the edge and plummet the full 130 stories to god-knows-what below.

Kirnden sat in his supple leather chair watching a curved array of Neural feeds flicker and shift above his desk. To Liani, most were set to the blank gray ‘eyes-only’ mode. That made her more nervous. He reclined far back in the chair over the slanted glass. Maybe the fat ass will bust one of the wheels and crash through .