Crack in the Kill Code (AmpCore #2)

06 - Wargames

The voice hadn't visited her again, but Piper could not shake off the sense that something bad was creeping up on her, an oily black presence reaching its fingers across the fetid waters of the river to grasp at her.

She woke the next day from a troubled sleep, irritable and sore, her implants feeling ill-at-ease, as though the presence of the thing still lingered, niggling at them. Wrestling herself into an academy issue skirt and tanktop, she slung on her un-badged jacket and stuffed her feet into a set of black trainers, then stepped out into the world of AmpCore.

At a glance, it wasn't all that different from when she'd first arrived here, the morning flow of students heading towards the academy mess hall, the stream of corporate adverts hurtling past them, the ranking tables pulsing accusingly on every wall.

Now twenty years old, Piper was around the middling range for the practitioners still in training at AmpCore. Some of the kids here were barely fourteen, shipped off by their corporate 'families' as soon as their bodies could handle the invasive grafting of the academy implants. Then the range ran right up to those in their early twenties; those like Toran and Odiye who, if the world of the corporations hadn't hit a very nasty speed bump, would have been well on their way to being fully qualified operatives by now.

So much for the sainted tech-corps of Hadrian and their order. Even Piper could see the rival cliques forming across the allied groups. Ever since the blame came of the wraith factory the corporations had been at each other's throats.

Shoulders square, she trudged into the academy's main mess hall, letting the scent of fresh coffee (or at least, a close approximation of it) and food wash over her. Eyes flashed her way as she entered, her presence at the academy still an anomaly to many of the regular students here. No corporate bankroll; no indentured contract – just a set of living implants that, according to the all the rules here, simply shouldn't exist.

From younger, curious students looking for a glimpse of the legend, to older, more embittered classmates, Piper ignored the lot, instead scanning the space for her friends. She found Odiye and Arrow at a table with a handful of other students, mostly Code Vector and Ardenne Industries that she could see. Toran, and his Skiltron allies, were conspicuous in their absence.

Gathering up a coffee and a synth-meat breakfast sandwich, Piper joined them, slotting herself firmly between Odiye and another student. The girl shuffled further away, shooting her an irritated look, but knew better than to push things any further.

Odiye flashed her an uneasy smile, his plate heaped with a steaming assortment of meats, eggs and bread. Opposite him, Arrow lounged with a large mug of coffee, their own plate already picked clean with only crumbs remaining.

"Where's Toran?" Piper asked, ripping off a chunk of her sandwich and chewing voraciously

"Confined to his quarters." Odiye swallowed down a forkful of his breakfast and cleared his throat. "They say it's a punishment, but I think it is for his own safety."

Piper washed the mouthful down with a slug of coffee and looked around. There was no sign of Vinder here either, but she could see some of the others from that group. More than one angry look came their way – guilty by association.

"Is it true what happened?" one of the younger students asked, looking at Odiye, wide-eyed. "Did he... did he kill her?"

"Fucking hell, Latimer," the girl beside him hissed, kicking him under the table. "You can't just ask something like that!"

"Keep it down," Arrow snapped, casting a glance over their shoulder at Vinder's allies, "unless you want to start another fight right here."

Latimer's cheeks reddened and he leaned forward, dropping his voice. "Sorry, I just... we've got a right to know, don't we?"