Amon stood several feet behind her, hands on his hips, chest thick with armor. The lack of a mechanic's jumpsuit was disappointing. Instead, he rolled up his black sleeves for whatever technical resistance work awaited. He still wore sunglasses indoors.
"Don't worry about me," Jess mocked. "I'm just checking the heating."
"I don't go to your home and... Hmph." Amon averted his gaze.
The girl smiled diabolically. Though surprised to see the cocky redhead, she wasn't too surprised. Someone employed him; Sub Terra would have been a sound guess. But another question took a bite of her thoughts.
"It was you who sent me the warning from Ghost Wire, wasn't it? You knew the Azareans would come sniffing around my apartment."
Within a pregnant silence, Amon removed his glasses and revealed eyes pristine blue. Though the gesture made him look cool, Jessica refused to admit it.
"Yes, I sent you the warning," he answered haughtily. "Believe it or not, I didn't think I'd see you here. Eventually, sure. Not tonight."
"Alright. Let's get this out of the way, Red. Three questions: How did you know they'd be coming? Why did you help? And what are you doing here?"
"I'll take your three questions and give one answer. Big alien brother is a bit of a mystery, but no one would benefit if they got their hands on you."
"You need me for something..." Before Jessica could squint any harder, Shannon crept closer and offered Amon a hand.
"Whattup man?" she greeted.
Jessica broke from the middle of their staring contest, and Amon's freckles, to turn her neck. "Shannon, this is one of those Black Hats I mentioned."
"Oh. Whattup, Cracker?"
"Derogatory slang is refreshing," said Amon, copying Shannon's grin. "I'm not a stickler for this type of thing but a thank you would've said more with less, Lynx."
Jessica sighed then smeared reluctance over her tired eyes, regretting her cold hands. "So, you're calling the gratitude card, huh? Fine. Thank you, Amon, for what it's worth, even though I'm sure that's not your real name."
"My name is Cracker." Amon turned to Valerie, who had been silently gawking at him the entire time. "Are you going to ask, or are you just going to stare?"
"Is that your natural hair color?" Valerie pointed.
"Yes."
Jessica scratched her scalp. "About that..."
"Can I touch it?" said Valerie.
Like Shannon, Jessica rolled her eyes the moment Amon rubbed his chin to actually consider Valerie's question. Amon gave his answer. "Fine." He removed his hat.
Valerie lifted and twiddled her fingers through Amon's sexy red hair, causing Jess and Shannon to cringe. "Okay, that's enough," he said. Valerie removed her hand and Amon replaced his hat. "I have something for you."
"Aren't redheads supposed to be extinct?" Shannon interrupted
"I don't have time to tell a long story, right now. But it relates to why I'm here, and I'm not the only one." He put his glasses back on. "That rig you were trying to steal into, Lynx, it's a vintage shell over alien tech. Pretty old alien tech, but it still works wonders, unlike most of what you'll find up top."
Finally.
Jessica was desperately curious about Sub Terra's technology. One way to find anything comparable to alien tech was to assemble components from scratch. And even then, finding the right components was extremely difficult. Alien goods hardly mixed with retail, which is why its presence in rebel hands surprised her. Then again, the black market was always the outlaw's luxury.
"There you go with that name again," exclaimed Shannon. "Who the hell is Lynx, Jess?"
"It's my moniker," she said defensively. "It's a good idea to have one if you're a netrunner, if you dig through cyberspace, consenting or otherwise."
"Why Lynx?"
"I just thought it worked..." Jessica felt tired from talking, tired period. Moreover, the concern in Shannon's voice was not lost on her, but she moved past the impulse to apologize. "We were talking about alien tech."
"The first time it was used on Earth, it wiped our wi-fi," Amon said humorlessly. "The rest is history."
"It was you Monarch wanted me to meet, wasn't it?"
When Amon returned a blank stare, Jessica pulled her goggles. "Pull up recent photos, Babel." Promptly, the lenses projected a hologram reel of her recent snapshots. She swiped left until Malvis cropped up. Amon was stiff.
"Where did you meet him?"
"At Goliath."
"How did you get that close?"
"What can you tell me about him?"
Again, the redhead removed his glasses. His eyes shared the intensity in his voice. "He's been working for—or with—Goliath. To be determined. I can tell you, from personal experience, he is not an elf you wanna get involved with unless you're miles away."
"Too late," said Jessica, revealing her white flash drive. "Thanks to him, we have unadulterated access to Goliath if we can get inside."
"How the hell—"
"I already told the story, and unlike you, I don't like retelling things. Your big boss, Mmmonarch, he wanted you, specifically, to have a copy of this data."
Amon grinned and slowly broke into a laugh. "You just did half the work! I just hope it was easy because the next step won't be."
"And what is the next step?" said Shannon, exasperated.
"We'll get into it soon."
"You never told me what you do with your processors," returned Jessica. "That alien TPU in your motherboards must be good for something."
"In a nutshell, we keep the government guessing. We need channels to the surface, legends for agents and"—he turned his head at Valerie—"if our couriers aren't enough, we communicate directly with our undercover contacts. Which requires top-notch encryption, which occasionally means meddling with civilization, which means complex algorithms that can play against Azarean code. It takes crunch just to stay one step behind."
Rolling between Shannon and Valerie, Jessica found them both on the verge of migraines. Shyly touching her shoes together, she proceeded with a question. "So, who operates and handles cyberspace? I assume you have more than script kiddies."
Amon plucked the flash drive from Jessica's fingers, glasses tumbling over his eyes. "Follow me."
Interest piqued, Jess chipperly followed Amon's lead. It was a brisk walk to a gigantic tent situated against the rocky foundation of the HQ. Outside stood several members of the motley crew from the meeting with Monarch, the same inquisitive minds that played 21-questions after her Goliath story. They shot glances in passing. To her relief, theirs were friendly faces, signs of approval. Then Amon stopped at the tent's flap entrance
"Is this a lair within a lair?" said Jessica.
"More like a den," said Amon, holding open the flap. "But this one doesn't exactly belong to Sub Terra."
"Then where have you led us?" said Shannon.
"Dissent."
The hell does that even mean?
Jessica glanced at her friends, whose eyes reflected hesitation, then wandered to the collective behind them. A colorful multitude of men and women, full of every kind of attitude, together formed a potential mound of aptitude. With nothing to lose, she took the first step inside the tent.
"I'm becoming claustrophobic," she whispered. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the earthy walls of a thin corridor before neon green shone across the interior. The mystical light source blossomed over wires and screens, a prism of them packed together. They preceded a husky, feminine voice that rambled. Part soft, part sinister.
"Wherever the Devil roams is cold."
ns 15.158.61.51da2
