The Machine Awakes by Adam Christopher Page A

him. It was featureless, the surface matte save for the shiny Bureau logo on the top. He felt along the edges until he found the catches. The case beeped as it recognized Kodiak’s DNA and unlocked.
    Inside, nestled in shaped foam packing, were two items. The first was a Bureau ID badge, a mirrored square of metal on a clip backing, the Bureau emblem etched into the front in gold.
    Next to the badge was a pistol. It was small, thin, the upper half translucent, the rest brushed silver.
    Now Kodiak allowed himself a smile as he slid his hand around the grip of the staser and lifted it from the case. It was very light. By his thumb were a series of simple switches.
    â€œYou’ll need to pass the Bureau training on the staser,” said Braben.
    Kodiak hmmmed. “Yeah, not sure I need that.” He thumbed one of the controls, pointed the gun at Braben, and squeezed the trigger. The gun spat something white and fizzy and the agent cried out, sliding sideways off his chair.
    Avalon was on her feet in a second, her hand reaching for her own staser on her belt.
    â€œVon! What the hell? ”
    Kodiak flicked the safety back on and put the gun back into the case. He rolled his chair back a little and nudged Braben with his foot. The agent rolled on the floor, moaning in pain.
    â€œI’m just returning a favor,” he said. Then, ignoring Braben’s semi-conscious form, he pulled himself back to the table. He locked the case and placed it on the floor beside his chair. Then he tapped at the table display, bringing up the image of the deceased Fleet Admiral and the maps of the city.
    Avalon slowly lowered herself back down, her hand moving away from her gun, her eyes darting between Kodiak and Braben on the floor.
    Kodiak looked up at her and waved his hand. “He’ll be fine. Now, let’s get to work.”

 
    11
    The farther Cait walked, the faster her pace. After a couple of hours she pulled up by a railing that circled an empty yard in front of a warehouse, hand on her chest as she caught her breath and realized she’d practically sprinted the last block. The confidence she had felt earlier had been short lived. Right now, she felt alone.
    She felt afraid.
    She checked her watch. She was still on time. In fact, she was ahead of schedule. She could afford a moment to stop and collect herself before continuing to the rendezvous. But not here, not in the open. She needed darkness and shadow, because while she was alone in the deserted streets, she also knew that they were watching. Surely, they were watching. Waiting.
    Half a block on was a large intersection, a number of narrow, tall buildings offering myriad hiding places. She stuck to the side of the building behind her, checked that the coast was clear, then darted across the intersection and into another alley, thanking the universe that Salt City was a disorganized, organic mess of buildings and architectures.
    Lost again in the dark, she sank to the ground. She closed her eyes, reaching out. Calling to him.
    To Tyler.
    Nothing. Nothing but the rush of blood in her ears and the cool night breeze. And the faint sounds of people, lots of people, brought to her on that wind.
    Cait opened her eyes, and listened. She was on track, getting closer to her destination. The stretch of industrial warehouses and abandoned factories would soon come to an end, the streets already becoming brighter as she approached a night market. The sounds were carried on the breeze and echoed off the walls of the alley, but they were close—perhaps just on the other side of this block of warehouses.
    The night markets of Salt City were famous and popular, not just among the refugees who lived and worked in the slum, but even among upstanding citizens of New Orem, the more adventurous of whom were known to venture out to see what exotic bargains could be found. Those were a different kind of night market, arrayed on the outskirts of Salt City, safe enough for