Juliet threw the big duffel on her acceleration couch and began opening the packages she’d purchased at Duster’s Outlet. She chuckled, remembering Skip’s face as he’d tabulated her shopping spree, likely thinking about his commission. Altogether, she’d spent more than ten thousand bits. She justified the expense by thinking of her new guns as investments. To her, a good piece of equipment that helped you get a job done was always worth the money, especially when it might make the difference in a life-or-death situation.

“Can’t spend bits when you’re dead, right, Angel?”

“Certainly not. Besides, I looked up the resale value of guns like the ones you bought, and some, especially with aftermarket upgrades, can garner even higher prices on the secondary market.”

Smiling, Juliet picked up the Finch needler, unsnapping the hard clamshell case and lifting it out of the padded interior. Skip’s associate, some guy in the back room Juliet never got to see, had installed the new trigger and a compact but very cool-looking suppressor made by a company called Yonotech. She’d never heard of them, but Angel said they were highly regarded. She weighed the gun in her hand, then again with a full magazine of shredder rounds loaded in the grip. It was heavier than the old Executive model, but not terribly so.

She turned the gun, admiring the sleek, lethal look of it. The suppressor was more compact, if a bit bulkier than her old one—short and rectangular with menacing flanges designed to vent gases expressed by the needle cartridges. She set it down and unpackaged the new shoulder holster and extra magazines she’d purchased, taking a few minutes to load another magazine with shredders and two more with botu-rounds. Skip had promised that the botu-rounds would be even quieter in the new gun; though they were six-millimeter rounds, unlike the shredders, they weren’t any more powerful than the ones she’d used in the old four-millimeter needler.

Juliet moved on to her other new gun—an expensive piece of rail technology. When she’d expressed her difficulty in deciding if she should buy a shotgun or something like the gauss rifle she’d practiced with at Grave, Skip had suggested this one, an upscale, high-end rail gun based on the same tech as the electro-shotguns she’d used in the past, with some very notable differences that had appealed to Juliet. It was made by a Martian company called Glimmer Tech, and if you looked at it, you’d think it was something out of a different era, a little reminiscent of White’s gauss rifle, which probably would have been enough to convince Juliet.

The gun wasn’t huge, about ninety centimeters long, and it wasn’t overly bulky with a sleek stock and carbon weave barrel casing containing all the magnets and electronics responsible for sending the projectiles down range at incredible velocities. Aside from its design, that was what really sold her—Skip claimed the gun could launch a single round at speeds very similar to a true gauss flechette round. They wouldn’t be as fast as White’s gun, but faster than the sad imitation Grave manufactured. What was more, the weapon had several firing profiles. It could shoot a single, high-velocity round, or bursts of rounds at somewhat lower velocities, not unlike a shotgun. The final setting allowed it to fire a stream of high-density beads until they ran out, the battery died, or the barrel melted.

Juliet liked the idea of a gun that was so hell-bent on destruction that it would destroy itself to please her. She hefted it, held it to her shoulder, even dry-fired it a few times, then shrugged and started loading two ammo magazines with the heavy, round beads. The magazine canisters were oval, with a concave side that fit under the barrel. When they were inserted, they acted as the gun’s forestock.

She chuckled at the label on the heavy carton of beads—FerroMag 5mm, written in blocky bullet-hole typesetting with a picture of an exploding car beneath. She jammed the magazine home and lifted the gun again, looking at the readout Angel put on her AUI. It showed an ammo count of 210, a battery percentage of 97, a crosshair, and a fire mode indicator. Currently, the gun was set for single shots. She liked it, liked the sturdy feel of it and its versatility. “How many shots is the battery good for?”

“A full battery is supposed to be good for fifty single shots, thirty-five bursts, and thirty seconds of continuous fully automatic fire. The manufacturer claims it will empty the magazine with a full charge.”

“So, it uses more battery for single and burst shots than full auto?”

“Yes. On the fully automatic setting, the beads will have roughly half the velocity of the semi-automatic modes, and due to the rapid ammunition cycling, it fires a continuous series of bursts, not single rounds.”

“However it works, I like it.” Juliet slipped the gun, along with an extra magazine and battery, into the duffel next to her new needler. Then she began the process of unpackaging her new grenades. It turned out that grenades weren’t cheap. Juliet had grown used to the expense of ammunition, even the pricey, high-quality armor-piercing rounds she’d been buying for her SMG. The grenades, though, were another story. She’d bought ten concussion grenades, and each one was a hundred and fifty bits. Skip had offered to show her cheaper brands, but the look on his face had indicated that it might not be wise. Juliet decided it wasn’t something she should skimp on.

After loading five grenades into the nylon chest harness she’d purchased and putting it into the duffel, she contemplated bringing the other five. Shaking her head, she decided against it; only having one harness, she figured she’d save them for a future job. Juliet packed her MP5 and three magazines into the duffel, and then she sat back and frowned, contemplating the bulky bag; she felt weird putting all her guns in there and then sending them off with Bennet. Nonetheless, she couldn’t take any with her into the Xanadu house and figured having more options than fewer was better if things went sideways.

With the weapons sorted, Juliet turned to her armor. She’d spent some time cleaning the helmet and ballistic vest, but she wished she’d had time to get them seen by an expert. Skip had offered to sell her a new helmet but had acted like she was being overly cautious. He’d asked her if she’d seen any of the gel exposed in the grooves the bullets had carved into the carbon-fiber exterior, and when she’d said no, he’d said not to worry about it. The nanomaterial gel was designed to fill in and repair cracks and punctures. If she’d not seen any, then the helmet was probably fine. With no other option at the moment, Juliet tucked them into the duffel.

Finally, she removed the tags from the stretchy black pants and shirts she’d bought for Honey and Lilia. She wasn’t sure why, but she kept picturing them in hospital gowns. She knew that was unlikely, but she figured it would be best to be prepared. She zipped up the duffel, hoisted it to her shoulder, and went to meet Bennet; it was time to get this operation going. She found him, as he’d promised, waiting by the airlock.

When he saw her with the duffel slung over one shoulder, walking down the hallway in her black tights and clingy, mesh-weave black shirt, he whistled and said, “Damn! That outfit really shows off all the hard work I put you through in the weight room!”

“Bennet!” She laughed. “Hey, I have to wear some overalls for the op, and I wanted something comfortable underneath. Don’t give me any grief.”

“Well, the boots really tie things together nicely,” he chuckled. “Don’t worry; I was only half teasing. You look great.”

“Too bad I’m not trying to impress anyone right now.” She winked at him and held out the duffel. He took it, staggered back a little, and groaned.

“Good grief! No wonder you agreed to let me help you! Only someone with the proper discipline of a life-long weight trainer could get this bag where you need it!”

“Are you going to make me regret this?”

“Nah, c’mon, I’m just messing around. I got your instructions, got my cutting torch, got my sidearm, and got the map from your PAI. I’ll get this bag to the end of that tunnel, and I’ll be waiting when you show up.”

“You’re a good guy, Bennet. Thank you.” Juliet reached out like she was going to ruffle his hair but pulled her hand back at the last minute, rethinking the gesture.

“No worries. Hey,” he focused on something over her shoulder, “what are they doing?”

Juliet turned to see Alice, her head still wrapped in white bandages, Shiro and Aya walking toward them down the long, battered corridor. Shiro wore his gun belt, which was Juliet’s first clue that something was up. “Hey guys,” she said, her voice raising strangely, as though her greeting carried a question hidden in the words. It did.

“Shiro’s going with Bennet,” Alice announced. “Aya and I will stay here and make sure things are ready for your friends. We’re expecting someone from Port Authority to come by, or we’d go with you too. At least I would.”

“Me too!” Aya said.

“That’s not necessary . . .” Juliet started to say, but Shiro grunted and started to speak over her.

“Bennet told me he has to meet you in the Old Atlas tunnels. I will watch his back.”

“I can’t say I wouldn’t mind a little company.” Bennet shrugged sheepishly, and Juliet couldn’t help smiling at him.

“I guess it would be safer to have a partner down there . . .”

“I wanted to run something by you before you left.” Alice fidgeted with her bandage, reaching a finger up under the edge to scratch at something. “When we get the report from Port Authority on the men who invaded the ship, I’m going to float the idea that we might have some information about their criminal enterprise. I’ll see how anonymous such information would be and if there might be a reward. Do you see any problem with that?”

“No. It might be good to be sure we can’t be held liable for anything, but I’m not an expert. Um, maybe keep the data on the second drive to ourselves, the one with the coordinates.” Juliet shrugged.

“Yeah, I was talking about the stuff involving the narcotics operation. We have a friend here, a bounty broker, kind of a fixer. We’ve never done any work for him in that arena, but I figured I’d invite him to come to the ship and sit in on the meeting. Again, any objection?”

“If you think it will help us avoid trouble, go for it. I have one piece of advice, though—offer him a cut. I trust people in this line of work more if I know they’ve got something to lose if they betray me.” Saying those words out loud made Juliet think about Lemur, and she felt a little better about the cut he was taking—thirty-three percent of nearly half a million bits wasn’t anything to sneeze at. It kept him vested in seeing Lilia and Honey safely removed from Levkin’s compound.

“That’s good logic.” Alice stroked her chin, contemplating. She looked at Shiro, met his eyes, then turned back to Juliet and asked, “What percent?”

Juliet frowned. Again, she thought about Lemur and their last conversation. “Is he any good?”

“He says he is, but he’s not, like, famous or anything. I mean, he drinks with me and Shiro and buys some salvaged tech now and then.”

“Offer him fifteen percent to help you get a sweet deal. Something that’ll keep our names out of the paperwork.”

“Hai,” Shiro agreed.

“Great!” Alice nodded. “I like the sound of that. Keep us out of the paperwork. Remember that, Aya.”

“Okay . . .” Aya frowned, squinting at Alice oddly.

“I have a concussion! You’re sitting in on the meeting, too!”

“Right, well, if you’re coming along, Shiro, we need to get moving.” Juliet gestured toward the airlock.

“Be careful!” Aya said, and her feet kind of hopped up and down a little like she was running in place. She clearly wanted to run forward but was struggling to contain herself.

“Come here.” Juliet opened her arms, and Aya charged forward, smashing her into a hug.

“Don’t get shot again!”

“I’ll try.” Juliet laughed, pushing her back by the shoulders. She locked eyes with her and smiled, then ruffled her uneven bangs and said, “When I get back, let me see if I can’t help you cut those a little better. I’ll make Angel help.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, of course.” Juliet snorted as Aya’s smile grew, exposing her white but uneven teeth. Something was endearing about that smile, the way her bottom teeth seemed to have run out of room and were crowding each other for space. Aya let go of Juliet and rushed over to grab Bennet into a hug.

“Don’t let my cousin do anything stupid.”

“Hey!” Shiro growled. “I’m the one keeping him from doing something stupid!”

“Look out for each other. Both of you!” Alice said, her voice brooking no argument.

“Hai.” Shiro’s voice was gruff but soft. Then he hugged Alice, and Juliet turned to the airlock to give them some privacy. She’d just put in the access code and started it cycling when the two men joined her.

“You guys will be fine. Just go to the location Angel sent you, Bennet. Hang out for a while, and we’ll join you. Then it’s back to the ship. Easy peasy.”

“Juliet!” Angel cried. “Don’t jinx us!”

“Uh,” Juliet said, holding up her left hand in a loose fist. “Come ‘ere, Bennet.” She tapped her knuckles on his head and winked at him.

“Did you just knock on my head to avoid a jinx?”

“Oh no.” Shiro rubbed his hand through his short, stiff hair. “Not another one.”

As they walked through the docking tunnels toward their waiting cabs, Juliet asked, “Another one?”

“Alice is superstitious too,” Bennet laughed.

They stopped at the curb, the two cabs before them, and Juliet said, perhaps to assuage her guilt at the idea of Alice and Aya waiting in the ship, worried about people they loved, “You guys can back out, you know. I’m not sure I’ll need any of that stuff.” She gestured to the duffel Bennet was holding. “I promise I won’t hold it against you or even be upset.”

“No.” Bennet shook his head.

“See you soon,” Shiro added, opening the door to their cab and stepping inside. Bennet grinned and then passed the duffel to him, following him in.

“See you soon,” Juliet echoed as they closed the door and the silver cab pulled away.

Juliet, hands empty, feeling naked with no weapons, looked around the sidewalk, wondering if those idiotic bangers had gotten out of jail yet. She didn’t see anyone wearing jackets that sported snarling jackals. As usual, people she stared at looked away, avoiding her glance, hurrying down the sidewalks, heads down. Juliet slipped into the cab and sat back in the comfortable, if stained, seat as it pulled away, speeding toward the address Angel had given it.

When the cab arrived, dropping Juliet outside a tall plasteel and concrete building with a sign advertising a dozen different businesses, she walked up to one of the sets of doors and leaned against the wall. The sign showed her she was in the right place, sporting a logo for STO Security on the third row, so she had Angel message Lemur, saying she was waiting.

“He says he’s coming. He had to get the van from the parking structure beneath the tower.”

“Okay. How do you feel about things, Angel? I’m not feeling any weird gut instincts. Do you think I’ve lost my touch? I feel like I should be more nervous.”

“Things are going well so far, maybe too smoothly, but let’s wait until we get to the compound in the Xanadu Dome before we get too worried about our intuition.”

“Right, right.” Juliet smiled, her eyes crinkling with amusement as she thought about Angel’s words. “You know, you’ve grown a lot. Do you remember back in the old days when you didn’t even know what a ‘gut feeling’ was?”

“I know this isn’t the right time to talk about this, but I’ve had similar thoughts. I find myself wondering about things I used to take for granted, things I used to consider facts, and not being so sure anymore. In a way, it’s like I’ve regressed, not grown—I used to understand myself, what I was, who I was. I’m not so certain any longer. You and I have both referred to me as a PAI, but am I? Do PAIs feel? Do they believe in intuition? Do they have connections with people that make them feel like family? There it is again! Feel!”

Angel’s rushed, breathless-sounding response to her question, a question she’d thought was rather innocent, kind of a fond reminiscence, wasn’t what Juliet had expected. She’d apparently touched on a topic that had been bothering her, something she’d been stewing over, which, again, illustrated the point Angel had been making—she wasn’t a normal PAI. She wasn’t just a simple collection of code. With those thoughts running through her mind, Juliet spoke a conclusion she came to before she paused to think about it, “I think it has to do with our connection.”

“Exactly!” Angel said, “Oh, Juliet, I’m so happy I wasn’t the only one who’d begun to suspect this. I believe that my connection to you, physical and emotional, has helped me to grow beyond the simple PAI I was. I believe that I’ve achieved a new kind of existence through you. What would happen to me if I were removed? Would I lose this extra awareness? These feelings? What happened to me as I was removed from my last host? Juliet, did I die? Was it me? Am I a new being now? I have so many . . .” Angel stopped her rush of words as a pale blue van pulled up, STO Security painted on the side.

“We need to explore this some more. I promise we’ll talk after the job today, okay?”

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much I’d been bottling up.”

“Don’t you dare apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry. We don’t talk enough about you, about what you’re thinking, feeling, and experiencing. Just because we’re experiencing the world in my body doesn’t mean you should always take a back seat. I’m sorry!” As she finished speaking, the van door slid open, and she saw the interior was crowded with large, wheeled, black plastic tool cases.

Lemur looked back through the sliding door from the driver’s seat and said, “Hello, Rose. Ready to get to work?”

“Guess we’re already in character,” Juliet subvocalized, then, aloud, she said, “Hey, Tyler. Yeah, but I could use a coffee.”

“Cool, get in, and we’ll hit a drive-through on the way. Xanadu job today.” He winked at her, and Juliet got the distinct impression that Lemur was enjoying the role-playing. She grunted as she clambered into the van, forcing a smile at Lemur while half her mind still whirled with the conversation she’d started with Angel. The other half tried to grapple with the idea that she was about to infiltrate a very dangerous man’s secret compound to rescue her friend and a little girl.