Cardinal Soul: Cardinal Machines, #6

By Tracy Eire

The torch has been passed at lofty Cardinal Machines. Rene and Clary Cardinal's attempted theft of C001-Oisin unit, foiled. And Zoey Collins is back from Soleil Moon Base. Finally, she can reunite with her android again. Last time she saw him, he was badly injured. Now? Ocean's fully restored, and as bright and beautiful as ever. He's a sight for sore eyes, which presents its own problems.

Easing back into her life is impossible with Noah feeling the heat of his impending court date, and case work piling up. Zoey's readjusting when a new case falls in her lap. And it's a walk in a park! The illegal clearance of a roadside grove from in front of an obnoxiously wealthy business-woman's home. The first suspect? The prodigal husband, fun-loving, wander-lusty, and... missing in action?

Setting out to track the runaway-husband exposes some unexpected angles about Ocean, too, and one development that calls into question the idea all android injuries are skin deep. Plus, things in the case aren't adding up. What should have been 1-and-done work churns up sketchy employees, oddities, and uncooperative assistants. It doesn't take Zoey Collins long to figure out this whole case is going sideways....

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tracy Eire
• Release date: Jan 16, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393101291

Tracy Eire

My name, Tracy, means warrior in Irish, and that's apt. I come from a much-storied island off the coast of Eastern Canada, where kids weren't handled with kid-gloves. We had the run of the place -- icebergs and all! The land, the storms, and the beliefs shaped me into a storyteller. But I'm also an avid collector of things, like dolls, books, and... ghost hunting tips. I have a background in literature and psychology, with an entirely unhealthy dollop of technology (that's run a decade now and includes Clouds of all kinds)! I paint too much and think about trivia and oddities about the same, but it all comes out on the page! I've been writing professionally for about 7 years now. You'll like my work if you're interested in near-future science fiction, ghost-stories, or kick-@$$ heroes and heroines. And if you're Street Team Strong? Let me know on my site's Contact Page! Thanks and happy reading!

Book preview

Prologue

It was about 16 degrees in Los Angeles mid-January, which was about... 61 degrees Fahrenheit or... thereabouts?

The moon used Celsius.

And after months stuck on Soleil moon base, Zoey had to stop and think about it.

Nothing spelled space-lag like jumping from the moon, to the stations, to the planet with no stops in between, and Zoey had done this not only to herself, but to her cousin and... her Great Aunt. She felt uncomfortable all over, even if it was cozy heading toward chill, that’s what Zoey knew.

Currently, Katherine Cardinal – who’d grown up as Zoey Collins – was sitting in the back of a limousine, of all uncharacteristic places, between two powerful Cardinal women. One was emerging from the long shadows of the moon to become one of the most powerful women in the galaxy, the other seemed incapable of driving with the windows rolled up.

It was getting kinda chilly.

The woman of the hour was on her right. Maxine-Evette Cardinal. It was circuitous, but she was Zoey’s late, Great Aunt Katherine’s youngest sister, which meant she was... a little under 100-years-old. But who was counting?

Maxine-Evette, like every one of the heartbeats behind la grande entreprise, Cardinal Machines, had access to so much gene-work that she looked to be in her mid- to late-30s at the moment. Zoey knew this for a fact, because a few of her women relatives had tried to loop her into one of their notorious ‘spa-treatments’, and she’d narrowly dodged it. Their rejuvenation serums and internal ‘touch-ups’ were a bit too creepy for her. By now, those undying roses of her family had cemented a trademarked ‘look’. A framework of embryonic tweaks put the women at about 5’8 or 5’9, optimal weight, with blonde hair, pale eyes, clear skin, excellent bone structure, and extra-large credit cards.

By now, ‘Katherine Zoey Cardinal’ – Zoey Collins, she reminded herself – was getting tired of looking like the next sugar cookie in the box.

The night air in the car ticked down a degree. But the Lunarians liked it cool.

Zoey’s jump from the moon had been accomplished during the 2-week lunar night, a darkness even the light-form domes that held everything up there, down, couldn’t quite disguise. Her return had been long overdue. As she sat cooling in the car, Zoey had been on the home planet for about 5 hours. Earth was already super-busy kicking her ass. The worst part was motion sickness, and so she had three days of pills to ease her through that part of her return.

And she was doing pretty well until the autocar swept through a stomach-floating dip and she gritted her teeth, "Damned moon." Enough with the heiress gig. She was more than ready to dive into the real world, with all its casework, retainer fees, and P.I. puzzles again.

Her Great Aunt said: "Katherine." Because ‘damn’ was too strong of an oath for Maxine-Evette, something else that betrayed the seeming 30-year-old as closing in on 100. Still, who looked cool as a cucumber wheel, even though as a long-term Lunarian, she had to be enduring a lot worse than Zoey was? Maxine-Evette. That’s who.

"Grand-mère, the Earth may have different rules." Soothed Bluette Cardinal, the next sugar cookie in the car. She leaned back so that she could look behind the upswept hair of her grandmother and make her wide-eyed ‘Eep’-face at Zoey for a moment.

When’s the last time she was on the planet? Zoey whispered back.

A decade ago. Said Maxine-Evette, And she can hear you.

Her English, Bluette visibly winced, is getting better the longer we’re here.

"Then maybe she should talk to Emmeline." Zoey said of the Aunt with which she was most familiar: the woman who’d first sold her out, and then backed her up, all the while refusing to accept that Zoey didn’t speak the family French.

Emme? That girl is of limited use. She will remain so as long as she works with Rene Cardinal, I fear. That brother of hers stunts her independence. Maxine-Evette said with distaste. She deigned to look at Zoey, Not like your mother. Elizabeth was a wonder. Good at everything she did. And you. You remind me of that.

The car pulled to a stop as Zoey tried to come to terms with kindness from a Cardinal. Genuine kindness. It happened now and again, though this woman remained, for the most part, diamond cut. Zoey, however, had never been on the receiving end of kindness from her mother’s family before. She didn’t know how to process it. For the most part, she didn’t trust it. None of it. In her mind, everything that had taken place on the moon with the Cardinals had been a business transaction – well, Nova excepted. Everything else except for Clarice Cardinal. Everything with Clary had been real, the machinations, the countermoves, right down to the bloodshed.

But she didn’t want to think about that tonight.

Lunarian-born Clary Cardinal had almost broken Zoey.

The girl had ultimately been a gambit at her father, Rene Cardinal’s command. And Rene had hit like a bullet to the gut. Zoey hadn’t seen her C001-Oisín since the day she’d managed to pull him out of where Rene’s goons had held him captive. And disfigured him.

He’d been in for ‘Corrections’, which is what you called android ‘surgery’. It had taken 3 weeks. Zoey’s face shut down and she tried not to see him in her mind’s eye, as he’d been when they’d parted. The burns. The damage.

It had become part of her damage, so this hadn’t been an easy trip. And as friendly as Bluette was behaving at the moment, as cordial as Maxine-Evette, Zoey viewed them as rather dangerous resources that could change allegiances, bleed her, strip her of everything she’d gained here.

But it wasn’t in their interests to do that at the moment.

Best to try not to think about it, really.

The corporate branded light-forms spinning and strutting overhead shifted into the sudden elegance of 20-foot-high light-form contemporary ballerinas. She watched them instead. They passed 15 feet above a courtyard, all together, and glided into 5th position, plié, bourrée in 5th, and a soft lift of their arms seemed in time with Kingdom of the Shades from La Bayadère. Zoey, so help her, couldn’t take her eyes off them. She couldn’t look away or speak.

Zoey’s mother had been an understudy to a prima ballerina. She’d been able to dance like that once... before she’d wrecked and died.

Ah! We’re here. Bluette chirruped as she recognized the wrought iron appointments of an estate she’d probably never stayed at. Zoey didn’t look through the gates at it. The great, walled, mansion was in pictures with her parents, daylight streaming down on them as they played with her on the grass. And that’s how she wanted it to remain.

As for Bluette. She touched and minutely adjusted her upswept hair in excitement. She appeared to be Zoey’s age, but might have been in her 30s these days. Treatments were tugging those telomers longer and longer, and Maxine-Evette, who hadn’t had as many as the average Cardinal, was benefiting from all the scientific advancements now that she’d woken up to the world again. Now that Zoey’s investigative screening had found the children Maxine-Evette had thought missing, gone. Maybe dead. That, in turn, had built an 11th hour alliance between the stately and powerful Cardinal, and Zoey, the cunning one.

Zoey looked down at her taupe, designer, sleeve dress.

They looked like siblings. But they weren’t the same at all.

The other car pulled in behind them and disgorged security.

The drivers, a matched set of tall, dark blond, Raphael Cardinal Machines, one of whom directed the automatic car, disembarked, and came to either side of the limo to open the doors. Once opened, there was no bonnet to impede anyone from standing. It isn’t Cardinal if it isn’t swanky. But she was done smiling through fangs, now. This was it! Katherine Zoey Cardinal was officially off the clock.

Zoey stood, stepped forward and went left around her cousin. She meandered out onto the pavement and noticed that the sound her heels made on concrete here was different than with the lunar asphalt mixture. She was back. For what it was worth.

Maxine-Evette raised a hand to the Raphael beside her and he stood by. Zoey watched the woman’s enviable grace, which seemed inborne, as if it came from another world. As if it came from on-high. Which it... did. This was how they all acted, even Bluette, who slowly got to her feet and managed to look like the rising neck of a swan as she did so. And Zoey?

She wasn’t a swan.

They’re waiting for you, cousin. She told Bluette. You and Great Aunt Maxine-Evette are expected. This was fact. Zoey had called ahead to this, a traditional home of the Cardinals in Los Angeles. It was close to the business, nested in exclusive hills, and the infinity pool was stunning, or so she’d been told by the staff.

Bluette smoothed her pale-teal sleeve of Chanel dress and suggested, "And, of course, you. You are Katherine Cardinal, cousin. They’re also waiting for you. They must. You won the day in La Confiance on Soliel sur la lune. The company awaits your pleasure." She opened her graceful hands at Zoey. Behind her, Maxine-Evette remained silent, perhaps supposing that the best chance she had of reeling Zoey into Cardinal property again was in her grand-daughter’s hands, or, perhaps, not caring if Zoey came with them, or not. Zoey couldn’t tell.

These people aren’t expecting me, Bluette. Zoey told the girl patiently. I think I was pretty clear that I’d see you and Great Aunt Maxine-Evette to the mansion, but I couldn’t stay.

Your... your house? Is that it? Is it the one in Nobel? Bluette murmured a few words in French because she wasn’t sure what to say here.

Make no wonder.

It’s called Noble. Noble, California. And yeah, that’s part of it. Zoey rubbed her weary forehead, aware her cousin was no longer calling the Collins Victorian a hovel or a hut, but Zoey didn’t push it. Her neighbourhood had been a big deal... a generation ago. Now? She didn’t live on the upscale part of her town anymore, but closer to the old money. The new rich did live in a place folks called Nobel, but she wasn’t going to explain the difference. Not to these people.

And the rest? her cousin said more quietly and stepped forward toward Zoey. Whoever... he is?

Bluette waited.

Yeah, they weren’t that kinda close.

Zoey took a few steps backward and hefted her backpack up to her shoulder. You have my phone number. Don’t wear it out. She turned and nodded at the Raphael beside her before she started down the darkening street.

"Wait! Won’t you stay the night, s'il vous plaît?" Bluette sounded fretful.

And Zoey turned away from the family that had, in spite of her carving hard-won loyalties away from her now public rival, Rene Cardinal, also cut her deeply. I’ll be in touch.

Then Zoey thought she heard Maxine-Evette’s stately voice counsel ‘Let the child go’, as she walked away from the Cardinal name that had always done the same to her. And why not? She’d managed their damn emergency for them. What the hell else did they want?

Still, horror of horrors to Bluette, Zoey walked off into the night, kitten heels clacking, eyes turned heavenward at the terrifically tall sky. It wasn’t hemmed in by layers of light-form and shatter-proofed glass here. The earth had the gravity to hold it all down. Zoey had that kind of gravity too. In Noble. When it came to her own little family. Noah Riley, her best friend and housemate, and his sous-chef boyfriend Bryn, had been released from Zoey’s entourage on the moon, some time ago, for example. They were expecting her back by tomorrow. They were a trickle of family. Rick Carrington, young Noble Sheriff’s Deputy, had been house-sitting for her for months now, and he was bound to be waiting. Zoey longed to see him, to just... hug him, and hear his voice again. And there was a little more.

But there was someone she’d missed so badly that thinking about their separation could leave her breathless, and make her eyes prickle. And she’d never tell Bluette. In fact... she could probably never tell a soul. Zoey looked at the tips of her shoes as the weight of that pressed down on her.

Then... she kept walking in her knee-length designer dress and blush wool coat, carrying her own backpack, until she came to a corner where she could, at last, see the moon above her as it was meant to be seen.

She stared up at it like it was a stranger and she hadn’t just been there, curious how she could still love it so much, so that just looking at it made her feel good inside, when Soleil moon-base had been so isolating and sharp, so controlling, like the point of a knife, indifferent to her suffering as it bore down.

Easy Zoey. She muttered. It’s not the moon’s fault. It just does what it does. It had been the Cardinals really.

With the night drawing in on these shortened days, it didn’t take long for an empty autocar to pull in beside her. There was still danger for women wandering alone at night. This was Earth, after all. It could tell she was there from her cuff-link bracelet’s internet connection. Zoey did look back over her shoulder, confirmed there was a Raphael less than 20 feet from her curb-side position, patently standing guard, and shook her head at him.

He couldn’t follow her.

The android had, no doubt, been sent by Bluette, but he wasn’t invited for this ride. He knew how to read the human shake of the head too, and he drew back into building shadows.

Good. Ironically, given her shunning on the moon, Zoey wanted to be alone.

She slipped into the autocar and set her backpack on the chair beside her, then tapped her cuff-link, a light, fitted cuff around her wrist that was still approximately the colour of her skin – all the rage in Soleil – to the flat, glassy dashboard to give it an address. Darken the windows. She told the car as she hunted in her backpack. Zoey only paused to let a few of the more painful pins out of her hair. And, auto, show me the news?

The moon wasn’t exactly known for streaming Earthly stations. She’d gotten behind, she bet.

The coverage popped on a light-form before her as she shrugged out of her coat and worked on getting out of her dress. The Evening news talked while she changed. She picked it up mid broadcast. A square-jawed young man hovered on the glassy dashboard of the autocar as she pulled on a pair of pants under the white dress to find she’d lost weight.

Turning our attention to West Coast Tech Giants, the lunar Cardinal Summit broke later than usual this year, with the end of January approaching. Little is known about how the Cardinal Machines company passes from one magnate to another, but the woman in charge arrived from orbit earlier this morning. We’re told that she touched down at a private heliport, Zoey pulled the dress off over her head and glanced at film of a quad-spin coming in, but it wasn’t the upmarket kind in which she, as Katherine Cardinal, had travelled, and was accompanied by a small number of family members before she took a car to Cardinal holdings. Zoey pulled on a long-sleeved top and kicked off her heels in favour of bargain-bin black flats which, improbably enough, had been to the moon. The newscaster powered ahead, As of tonight, Cardinal Machines hasn’t released any further information. The world will have to await the announcement of Cardinal’s leadership, including rumours that-

Next news channel. Zoey stuck a foot up on the glassy dashboard and rubbed a scuff on the cheap faux leather with her thumb.

-legal betting pools split between business magnate Rene Cardinal and a rumoured newcomer, also named Katherine Cardinal. No news yet, so there’s still time to place your bet. Just what she hadn’t wanted to hear on the news, even if nobody knew what she looked like.

Next news channel.

-here in California. I mean, it is a tech titan. It should be expected. But you have to wonder if decision makers are being wooed by the legacy. Wooed by the name-

And, guess which name?

Yeah. Everyone’s a critic. Zoey folded the designer dress into her bag, and kept the blush coat with her, before she remembered and let down her excellently styled blonde hair. Next news station.

Zoey finally landed on a discussion of the contest for the governorship, which she was interested in. Parker Huntington was neck-in-neck with a candidate she didn’t recognize. And Zoey didn’t like Huntington. She had a history with him and his completely nutso wife, and, 9 out of 10 times, a professional history with Zoey Collins wasn’t a good thing. There was also the fact Parker had no problem talking about how anti-android he was. Before the moon? She’d thought that all she could do was cross her fingers and hope for the best outcome, for her, for Ocean, maybe even for the Cardinal Machines empire along this coast. Post-moon? Zoey had a feeling she should talk to Maxine-Evette about this problem, maybe throw some money at it? She had a frigging space-ship. There had to be something she could do about yahoos like this man.

Her brows went up, shifting things around, Can’t put the jinni back in the bottle, Parker, can you. There was no tech for that.

It took work to get the last of the pins out of her hair, and when she did, it fell down in long, glossy waves of pale yellow – not quite smooth after all the braids and restraints it had been in. She lay back in the seats in a daze for a while, because she wasn’t sure which was worse for her: re-entry sickness, or space-lag. Eventually, the nerves got to her though, and she sat up peering at the road, her leg bouncing up and down impatiently as she neared her destination.

Chapter 1. War games

The autocar pulled to the curb outside of a large warehouse-like facility. It was crisp, almost dark, when Zoey stepped out onto the pavement. She checked the sky, a habit from the moon base, and carried her bag over one shoulder. Zoey began to do the dress check, which was that necessary smoothening that women do when they stand up, in order to extend a sleeve-like dress further down the thighs, and it looked bizarre in a pair of jeans. She hadn’t worn pants in that long. She exhaled, "Damn Cardinals."

The blush bouclé jacket – and she couldn’t even believe she knew what that was – Zoey folded over her arm. She did this as she’d been taught by her family, and so, with unconscious elegance. The car behind her chimed to let her know all her parcels had been removed from inside and she walked up into the coolness of the curb. Zoey didn’t look back when the doors slid shut behind her and the autocar rolled away. She was busy containing herself, and all her emotions, which tattered around her like a wind-torn flag.

For a moment, Zoey stood facing the anonymous steel walls of the warehouse whose address had popped up on her cuff after two quick jolts... all the way back when she’d hopped off Pacificus and onto the quietude of Ultima’s decks again. She’d been waiting to come here since she’d landed in L.A.

And the two jolts on her cuff-link?

That was Ocean’s calling card.

This place? Even if Earth was her home turf, this building was entirely foreign to her. She pushed her hair back nervously and rolled her lips out of her mouth. Everything about her had become so silken. So different. Even 30 seconds later. She hadn’t moved.

He was in there.

So... why was she afraid to go in? Zoey was frustrated. Tired of her fears. Hand-in-hand with her losses, they ran her life.

She could have this. This one good thing.

Besides, the only one she knew with the power to comfort her – she looked at the toes of her flats, annoyed at the scuffs – he was in that building somewhere. Zoey sucked in air and eased ahead by fractions until she’d passed through the lot full of black L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T. vehicles.

She felt like she needed him.

One useless dress-check and she pulled one of the steel double-doors, glass tinted black, at the front of the building. Inside an impersonal world of fluorescent lights, crisp efficiency, white tile, and concrete greeted her. The front desks were booths with ballistic glass and cameras. The human officer there was so still she momentarily mistook him for an android. Then he bent forward a fraction to peer at her, and, from long experience, she could tell the difference. She wondered if he was a member of the New Measure Movement who often modelled themselves on their idealized androids, or if he was one of the ‘android-strong’ type of police, who liked the idea of operating within rules, laws, and procedures, with their emotions buried – maybe mummified – under wraps.

Uh, she felt in her pocket and found her Private Investigator’s license. Uhm. Zoey, she caught herself and said, "Zoey Collins," back to who she was – who she really was – now that she’d left the cold, sharp dust of the moon, and Katherine Zoey Cardinal, behind.

He touched light-form screens that, to her, appeared only as flickers of edge-lighting in air before him, and then he focused on her, The Cardinal Machine’s handler. He confirmed and motioned her forward. Please press your dominant hand to the glass.

Zoey stepped up and pressed her right hand to the glass. Green light lit the area around her splayed fingers, a ring with information branching off. The effect scrolled for almost half a second before there was nothing and she stepped back.

Miss Collins, the cop spun the disk of light-form around in air so that it faced her, and she could see her civilian files, in green, branching up on a dark red line to a red folder marked Confidential, Are you aware you have sealed files?

Are you aware I’m Katherine Cardinal? Because I’m having a hard time believing it myself. Sealed. Yep. Except she hadn’t known, though it made sense. Zoey hadn’t had anything like sealed records when she’d left for the moon. Whatever this was, she could check with Lieutenant Ott about it. Later. Or, her mood lightened, why not check with Ocean?

Anything you’d like to disclose? the Sergeant crossed his arms and frowned down at her.

Nope. Then Zoey stood her ground and waited out the silent consideration.

Proceed to the main doors and head inside. I’ve messaged your fellow handler, Lieutenant James Ott, about your arrival. He eyed her. Don’t cross the red line until he joins you.

’Kay, thanks, she sucked a deep breath and pushed through the row of doors, all of which had 1-way glass in them. No one was waiting beyond. Inside was what looked like a football field had shacked up with a gymnasium, complete with mock-ups of houses and stores, some made of softly glowing light-forms and many of synthetic wood. There were many parked cars, and a number of ‘civilians’ milling. It was like the outside on an average day. But relocated to the inside.

A few men lounged around in black outfits, their Carrier Vests off as they sat with their backs against a cinderblock wall, and looked at her in surprise as she stepped in. She was beautiful and dainty, underweight, back from the moon. Zoey scanned the cavernous room and felt her stomach clench. There went the idea of his just being there. Just standing and waiting for her. And she hadn’t even realized she’d wanted that. One of the three men by the wall got up and called out to a second group of S.W.A.T. Those guys with their Assault Plate Carrier Vests on. Hey. Hey?! Anyone invite their girlfriend to this cluster?

All-righty. That didn’t take long.

Zoey wiped her hands along the sides of her jeans just in time to narrow her eyes at a flash-bang and shouting going on deeper in the room, where she couldn’t really see.

You here for one of the guys, hon? Asked the handsome young S.W.A.T. officer.

Zoey looked aside at him. Nope. I brought the pizza. How about you point me at Lieutenant Ott? But they didn’t look around for the box, so they weren’t completely checked out when it came to sarcasm.

Pizza guys look like you? the officer acted like he was stunned. He glanced over her with the helplessness of a guy faced with someone he considered truly beautiful and oddly intractable, since she was already walking toward the flash-bangs.

Yeah. Gotta date.

Hold up. Red line. He followed Zoey, You can’t cross the red – you can’t go in there-

Zoey eyed the long red line light-form cast on the floor. Oh that. More bullshit to waste her time, though... she probably couldn’t just walk in here safely if she thought about it. Like everything Zoey Collins had ever wanted, it looked like this reunion would require a little extra effort. So, what’s your name? she called over her shoulder.

P3 Jory Bullitt, uh, that’s Police Officer 3. He made a reach and caught her elbow. You can’t go in there, Miss. The load can still injure someone without protective gear. It’s not safe.

Zoey looked up into his young face, at his short brown hair and determined gaze, and she breathed in at the thought of being detained by someone again. She’d been in freefall as Katherine Cardinal, abandoned, sure, but also limitless. Back here on earth, there were rules. You think I’m someone’s girlfriend in there?

Well. He said. He flushed a little and ruffled the back of his short cut, Honestly... if not... I’d love to do something about that.

Cute. And she liked his shyness. So, Zoey broke it to him gently, P3 Bullitt, I’m a handler for the C001-Oisín Cardinal Machine. This is the soonest I could get here. I’d like it very much if I could see him in action, please.

For a moment Jory Bullitt just stood and processed this. She looked young for a handler. Then he said a rather disbelieving, You’re a bot wrangler?

"Yee-haw." She said.

You want an escort to Lieutenant Ott? A couple of the other young S.W.A.T. members by the doors edged up around her, and the guy now speaking to her grinned, "You want to talk to Ott? Well, okay. I’m sure that old badger isn’t drinking yet."

It was kind of amazing how similar in body conformation some of these young men were to Ocean. It made Zoey suddenly hungry in the pit of her stomach, just to see the android again.

Jory fell in before her, This way Miss-?

"Collins. And what do you guys mean? Drinking?"

See, the android’s always a handful. Jory told her. Gets a lot of press. Performs in inhuman ways. Doesn’t give a damn about rules most of the time. Pain in the ass. You know.

She didn’t know, actually. Zoey’s eyes widened because she’d always found Ocean to be very tuned to the straight and narrow. Ocean was badge-blue, through and through. It’s not like the, uh, android to not attend to rules. What’s going on with him? Do you know?

It’s intentional from what I can see. Said Bullitt. He has extra information coming in over that... whatever sensor system he has driving him, I guess, so he doesn’t care about basic human training like this. I’m not saying you’re bad at your job, Miss, robot’s just a bit of an asshole.

She looked away. Wow. Okay.

Zoey nodded as she walked. She wanted to get Ocean and go home, and the P3 chatterbox wasn’t doing a thing to curb that feeling. The noise ahead was increasing. It sounded like a verbal altercation was going on. What’s this we’re walking into?

Reality-based training, Jory told her. He looked down at her anxious face as she ploughed along beside him. Wax bullets, the whole deal. You’ll have to stand behind the observation shields.

She didn’t care. She’d have darted behind smoking tank shells to see him as soon as possible, and gazed aside at Jory and the other young men, How does he look?

Now Bullitt was surprised. Uh? Excuse me?

Zoey cursed herself inwardly and covered with, He took some damage recently, and I’m wondering if the repairs were, uh, seamless.

Celebrity-hair? asked the tall, dark-skinned young man on her right. That thing’s always like a prom-date waiting to happen. Only a bit too old for it. More... hot-for-teacher.

Really, she grinned up at him. You take someone like him to your prom?

The guy’s cheeks flushed, but he quite honestly answered, I wish.

But they weren’t mentioning what he’d looked like, just using that nickname of his, ‘celebrity hair’. Which meant he wasn’t like when she’d last been with him. She was almost desperate to look at him, but her mind’s eye flashed back to skin gone grey, extensive burns across the artificial flesh of his face, forehead, and cheekbones, and melted slag where his eyes had been. It took a lot of effort... to burn an android. A lot of time and... commitment. Zoey had a cold millstone in the pit of her stomach, churned by worry inside.

She almost paused mid-step. It’s just a memory. Memories can’t hurt you.

They can’t hurt him.

But there was no one to ask about that.

So, she kept on walking.

And there was James Ott.

He looked thrilled, and a little strange to her in his black, S.W.A.T.-issued BDU. But there was that mess of untamed, light brown curls and his generous smile. Ott was a fit, good-looking, middle-aged man, who swore like someone stuffed bills in his pants for it. Well, shit. If it isn’t Zoey Collins!

She hadn’t really expected to feel the bubble of happiness that she did, Lieutenant! She scurried in his direction and he held up a hand to her.

Oh no. No, you don’t. No dramatics. I can’t take another damn kid jumping on me like a fucking cocker-spaniel.

Zoey’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Was that... was that what Ocean had done?

But Ott continued with a grin that glanced over her escort. What the hell do these baby-S.W.A.T. want with you, Collins?

Jory, quite officially, noted, Lieutenant, she came to see-

"God. Stop. Jesus. I know what she came for. Ott waved their comments off. Zoey, follow me. You should get to see how he works with the other S.W.A.T. at least. I don’t think you’ve had a real opportunity before what with his being a roof-sitter and all."

Did he spend any time on the range, she pulled in beside him, face-upturned, sniper training while I was away?

His expression was more serious as he reached her. Kid’s through that. He always gets through the marksmanship stuff fast. Always does real well. It’s.... He glanced back at the trail of rookie S.W.A.T. and frowned, This is the challenge right here.

She wondered if it was ‘fitting in’ or ‘other people’ that Ocean kept failing at. He was still considered a recruit at 4 years in, not even a Police Officer 1. Still fighting the good fight for the stripe. As for the suspected New Measurer, or ‘android-strong’ at the front desk – Zoey scrubbed a hand through her now silky hair – no matter what he thought, it wasn’t likely he understood Ocean’s plight.

Is he being too straight-edge or something? Zoey’s shoulders popped in a shrug.

Ocean? Ott said and then his brows went up in realization. No... no, he’s... grown beyond... acting strictly on the, uh, law-enforcement programming, maybe? It seemed to have been difficult for Ott to pull that reply together, like he’d never thought he’d be saying something like this about an android. I always see the kid... as squeaky clean. But, sometimes, I’d swear to it, Collins, he’s angry. That changes how he acts. Sometimes... I’d swear he’s lenient, or... maybe there’s even pity... for humans.

Zoey didn’t question it. She didn’t have the doubts Ott did. And she couldn’t quite keep from grinning up at the long-missed Lieutenant by now.

Oh, and happy birthday, bot-handler. Ott glanced across at her. He gestured them ahead toward a metal staircase that led up to an observation gallery, a room that was glassed-in, with a railed walkway along the outside.

Wow, Zoey beamed aside at him. How did you know?

He told me, Ott started them out in the direction of renewed flashbangs. How else? We gotta hustle now.

Okay. What’s going on down here? she fell in beside his long strides a little uncomfortably. Used to everyone walking her speed, not faster. Ott was taller than Ocean though and didn’t give a shit about her lofty surname.

She still had the small escort of S.W.A.T. recruits with her. Jory pointed at the buildings ahead, Uh, so, today we’re clearing rooms and controlling the surrounding area, or that’s the job.

"Atta boy, kid. You’re right, even if you are practically a mope right now, Ott turned toward Zoey. Okay, I gotta head back. We’ll do 1 more run-through and then... he looked down and right at her, then you can have him. So sayeth the Cardinal contractual agreement."

There was a contractual agreement? Kay. Whatever got him out the door. Zoey nodded, Sure.

Ott motioned Zoey up the set of stairs to the observation platform, above, and left her there with the small knot of S.W.A.T. she’d gathered. She did spot a news camera sitting abandoned along the rails with her. She’d come in too late for the footage they’d shot and wouldn’t be here tomorrow. Nice bit of unintended dodging there. Not that they knew what Katherine Cardinal looked like, but she had to lay low until the news of La Confiance – the Cardinal Confidence Vote – blew over.

The press didn’t seem wise to how the Cardinal Summit worked either. Best to keep it so.

Hey, Miss Collins, Jory told her quietly. He and the other young men, none of whom looked older to her, than Rick Carrington back home, were disturbed by something. "I owe you one. I mean, shit. I didn’t know Lieutenant Ott could smile. Not in person. Not over the radio. Not over megaphone. I’ve only ever heard him swear."

I’m a charmer, Zoey said in singsong, settled in on the railing and stared out through a light-form screen at the floor below. She didn’t see her Ocean’s Cardinal Machines blue suit down there anywhere.

Wish we had someone like you to talk to them then. We’re kinda in a time-out right now.

What’d you do? Zoey turned her head to ask.

So, the young African American guy, who was named Caleb, just shrugged. They said we were screwing around with the flash-bangs?

Oh then, same question. She nodded.

He broke into a sheepish grin, Well so, we had to put them in a few houses, so Jory stuck a finger on top and I kicked a couple through a hostile window or two. Seniors got a little heated.

God knows why, Jory added happily. "You could see them hit the walls and go off like at a rock concert. Totally effective."

The senior guys weren’t going to be amused. She could see a bevy of milling people in red POLICE vests and walking around the building. She smothered a chuckle at that. You got the job done though.

Sure did, Caleb bowed his head as he leaned on the railing and grinned at himself. "What’d you do? You’re stuck up here with us, and I haven’t seen you around the robot before today."

Oh, hung out on the moon with the fam.

Zoey pointed at her head, Yeah well, get used to my face, because I’m the one with the paperwork for this android, she glanced back at the young men who leaned along the rails. I was just like... a couple weeks late to the party. That’s all. It was January. Hard to believe that she’d gone to Soleil moon base back at the end of October.

You’re... you’re not a cop. You’re not military, for sure. So... a private citizen owns that thing? Jory sounded stunned by the news.

Zoey ignored the comment because, firstly, she owned all the Ocean units, and secondly, hell would probably freeze solid before she ever considered him ‘a thing’ again. And she’d tried. For practice. Ocean’s state was inexplicable to human beings because he was something unforeseen. A new intelligent life. Or that was how she saw it.

The action down on the floor below her heated up. A presumably hacked autocar screamed in, smacked the corner of a building, and the driver ditched with the engine still roaring. She’d jolted and backed up when it had crashed. It was loud. Violent. Damn. Real-world training, huh?

The passenger doors disgorged three more people, one with a big zippered sack like a police duty bag. She instinctively didn’t like the looks of that. One was injured, his backpack spilled money on the concrete floors, and he got dragged inside a building they smashed the door-glass to get into. She could see over the top of the framing for the ‘building’ and knew that they all went to ground behind what looked like a long countertop – maybe a bar? But it was dim inside. One of them shot out the wall light. Now only the EXIT sign was lit. A second, the injured one, got on his cell phone. The rest tore or cut up a stack of red cotton napkins and started sticking rags into open beer bottles. In a huff of blue flame, someone tested the kind of torch used to smoke street meth and other nasties and set it on the bar. And there was a lot of yelling and confusion between them. S.W.A.T. wasn’t privy to any of this.

Firebombs. Caleb said under his breath and exhaled slowly.

Zoey stiffened. The image of Ocean’s burned and melted face came to her, unbidden. She started to look toward the stairs. She could run out there. She could-

"Nope. Stay put, android-handler. You can’t do anything. You can’t say anything, Jory told her as he frowned down at the quickly unfolding scene. Let them handle this mess, or, pretty sure, they’ll throw your butt out in the parking lot."

No hostages, she said softly.

Caleb frowned, See.... That’s where you’re getting ahead of yourself.

But it’s getting late. Look at the clock, she indicated at the dull red glow of a wall clock inside the ‘bar’ and gestured at the lowering lights in this section of the training environment. No one’s going to be in there.

Bar will be opening up soon, even if it’s just dusk. So, employees will be arriving, or have arrived. Even if they haven’t yet, there’s often a-

The fourth guy found someone sleeping in a room in the back and pulled him out in his boxer shorts. There was a terrific amount of noise associated with that. Zoey immediately felt tension, worry for him, since the trainer-bad-guys pushed him down and stuck a gun in the guy’s face. He crabbed into a corner and put his hands up on top of his head, then stayed curled there.

I was gonna say, there’s sometimes a guy who stays on the premises in some of these arrangements. A caretaker. Said Caleb and he frowned at the unfolding event. Something’s up.

More shouting, and a second baddie came out dragging a woman in a crop top and panties. The girl shrank under a bench like a shadow. Zoey thought she’d picked the better position.

Oh shit, Caleb muttered.

And, look, he had company. Jory rubbed his jawline and frowned. 2 hostages. And S.W.A.T. may know about him. But they may be in the dark about her. Plus, I bet the guy with the bum leg is calling in shit-head-backup.

The first of the S.W.A.T. team members arrived in a large black S.U.V. if you wanted to call the armoured vehicle that. You could have thrown flaming bottles at it all day with no luck, Zoey imagined. More of the same coasted up around the building.

What amazed Zoey was the precision with which the men and women hustled along the sides of the building, having easily identified the hijacked autocar. It appeared, there was little need to fool with it, since it was empty and stuck in the face of a wall. Anything they needed from it would be waiting when they came out. If they came out.

Where’s Ocean?

What’s his position, again? Jory asked.

Uh, he’s normally a sniper. Zoey noted.

There’s no training for that today, Jory told her. Bot’s gonna be in the stack.

The stack was a compressed line of men in full black B.D.U,s – Battle Dress Uniforms – pouch-studded Armoured Carrier Vests, black helmets, and full angular masks. They filed along quietly in their black tactical boots. There were a lot of these men. Zoey’s heartrate kicked up. They all carried short-barrelled rifles, though, there were a few pump-action plasma shot-guns in the mix. Where is he?

Hey, Caleb looked aside at her. Cool it now. None of this is real.

Tell that to my fight-or-flight reflex. But Zoey wrapped her fingers around the railing and waited.

Down girl. Jory added.

Those cocktails are gonna make real fire. Zoey said in retort, and tried to trust the facility, Uh, What’s the... what’s the patch Velcroed to the back of their helmets?

That’s not real alcohol, and the patch is for blood-type. Caleb told her and pointed at the stack along with another guy. He leaned in, So.... That’s your machine.

Ocean was invisible now that he was in S.W.A.T. gear. He fell into the team of men with him, and, she noticed, they didn’t involve him in anything. He checked his gear, reached around with his hard-knuckled gloves, to touch the flash-bangs on the back of his Carrier Vest, and attended to himself. When he turned his head – short-barrel rifle against his chest and pointed down – she could spot the single patch on the back of his black helmet. It read: AND.

Android.

She could have told them he’d been scaling back his And-B in favour of Star-bled but... but no one here cared, and there were no clumping problems if they hit him with a few bags of And-B instead of Star-bled in any case. Well. If they even thought about it.

The taller man that zagged in and clapped him on the helmet was O-positive. That would be Ott. He stopped to check some of Ocean’s front pouches, and Ocean’s 6-foot, limber body, still shorter than Ott’s, moved in time with the Velcro tugs. Ocean didn’t clap anyone’s chest, or helmet, or... beyond reversing the check for Ott, he acted like he’d come alone.

The red-vests milled among them, observing everything.

The bar was large too.

Their motion was sudden. She lost track of Ocean when they made two men-lines of six and hustled down along the side of the bar around back. Zoey couldn’t see what they did there, and, when the breacher, oddly enough, took a Fireman’s crowbar to the door, she’d lost track of Ocean.

It’s because the door opens out, Caleb told her, not in. So... crowbar, not ram. Breacher got out of the way fast to let them through the kill-box. Your bot’s team is smart.

The shields came in first, but there was no resistance.

The men split and went to the 4 corners of the room they were in. The back 2 kept advancing. And that was all that Zoey saw before all hell broke loose in the growing dimness. The front was breached. The left side was breached. S.W.A.T. came from everywhere in the huge space, and, up at the front and most obvious entrance, she saw confusion and the light-form tracery of gunshots. Zoey backed up toward the wall.

Below her there was yelling. What was happening? She was watching it and couldn’t really say. Now she stepped forward and gripped the railing before her, white-knuckled and powerless. Where is he?

No one answered her.

Her voice kicked up a notch in volume, "Where is he?"

Her cufflink, that magical piece of high-performance tech that had become everything from cell-phone, to laptop, to Augmented Reality unit, jolted. Twice.

Zoey stilled. He knew she was here. She looked down at the timer on her cuff, counting down 15 minutes. She glanced up at the hectic scene before her, which, by then was... less hectic.

Someone up front had shot through the lines of beer bottles with, she bet, something other than a plasma. Maybe it had been a hydro? Then she remembered these were all wax load. Hell of a shot, though. The male hostage was under a Kevlar blanket, under the knee of one of the S.W.A.T. Someone