Punishment

[4]

THE TRASH-PICKER KIDS SLAPPED on their patches seconds after agreeing to the deal. Syd had wanted to delay their payment until after the heist, but they wouldn’t accept that.

“Pay up front,” one of the boys said. “Or we shout out right now that you’re trying to rob the place.”

“Sweet kids,” Egan joked, but gave them their patches. Syd tried not to look nervous. The patches settled on their skin and lit up, just like they were supposed to. Some of the bigger bumps and welts around the patches did seem to vanish. The kids watched their own skin skeptically. “I told you it takes time to work,” said Egan. “Now hold up your end of the bargain.” 

“Why should we?” one boy, who seemed to be the leader, said. “We got your patches already.” 

Egan’s fist clenched, ready to fight, but Syd saw they were surrounded and outnumbered in the dark, and these scavenger types would carve them up and sell them to organ harvesters without a second thought. 

Quickly, Syd waved his hand in the air and brought up a holo projection of his own datastream. It glowed bright in the lightless, empty garbage lot. Syd expanded it so that the kids could all see the complex shapes rotating in midair, the lines of code and equations. He jabbed his fingers into the projection, moving it around. The kids eyed him warily, clutching their jagged weapons in their grubby fists. 

“If you don’t hold up your end,” said Syd, “then I’ll rewrite the code in those patches to flay you alive.”

“Flay?” the boy asked. 

“It means burn your skin clean off you where you stand,” Syd explained. He tapped some more lines of text into the holo. Some of the kids started to pick at their patches, trying to take them off again. The leader boy looked around, looked at the patch on his own arm. 

Syd knew he had him, now he just had to give the boy a way to say yes without losing face in front of the other kids.

“No reason you all can’t keep your patches and heal just fine. All you have to do is honor your word and distract that guard until we can get away with what we came for. It’s a good deal.” 

“I know it’s a good deal,” the boy snapped. “You don’t need to tell me what’s a good deal, swampcat.”

Syd let the insult pass. The boy barely came up to his chest and Syd had a policy of ignoring insults from anyone who stood below the level of his chin. He swiped away the holo once more and gave the boy a nod.

“Excellent.” Egan threw himself into the conversation, knocking fists with the big boy. “You’re a wise man.” 

“I ain’t a man,” the boy responded. “I’m a girl.” 

Syd and Knox looked at each other and then back at the trash picker. She was covered in dirt and wore baggy, tattered clothes, but as they looked closer, they could see some small curves to her, well hidden beneath her outfit, her size, and her general surliness.

“Apologies, ma’am,” said Egan, stifling a giggle.

Syd elbowed him in the ribs. He was not going to be killed because Egan was immature about gender roles. 

The trash-picker kids went off to raise hell and distract the guard, while Syd and Egan crept around to the side door of the warehouse. The heavy smog that settled over the Valve blocked any moonlight, and Syd’s dark skin made him practically invisible on the dark side of the building. Egan had to pull up his hoodie again to hide the bright white of his hair.

“Now if we could just cover up that bone-white face of yours, we’d be set,” Syd joked.

Egan sneered and gave Syd another punch in the air, which this time, focused on the job, Syd didn’t return. 

“Hey, what was that with the kids back there?” whispered Egan. “I didn’t know you could hack biodata patches.” 

“I can’t,” said Syd. “That was my calculus homework.” 

“Your . . .” Egan’s mouth hung open. 

“I figured those kids couldn’t read.”

Egan laughed. “You may be a virgin, my friend, but you have got one big swinging set of ba—”

“Shh,” Syd snapped and pulled Egan down behind a pile of stinking refuse, just as a figure rounded the corner of the warehouse. 

“The kids crossed us?” Egan clenched his fists. 

Syd shook his head, peeked around the corner, and his blood froze in his veins.

There were two Guardians standing just a few yards away, a male and a female, each a perfectly engineered human specimen, as beautiful as they were dangerous. What could they possibly be doing all the way down here in the Valve at some run-down wire storage site?

“Sydney Carton,” one of them announced in a voice that carried easily across the entire lot without the aid of amplification. “On behalf of SecuriTech, per the terms of your proxy agreement with the Xelon Corporation, you are hereby requested to surrender yourself for Administrative Punishment.”

Syd didn’t move. Administrative Punishment. 

A fancy way of saying his patron had done something stupid and Syd was about to be hurt for it in his place. 

Egan sighed. “Unbelievable,” he whispered. “I mean, the timing?”

“Come out now,” one of the Guardians commanded. “Or you will be charged with violation of your contractual agreement, given one year of debt for every minute of delay, and your associate will be executed for Interference with Commerce.” 

“Associate?” Egan was puzzled, then realized they meant him. “Oh, man . . .”

Syd stood up. “I’m here. Relax.” He held his hands up and walked slowly toward the Guardians. He glanced back at Egan as he went. “Sorry about the score, pal. Maybe next time.”

Egan dropped the hood from his head, his white hair slicing the dark, and he pouted. He was out all those knock-off patches for nothing.

Syd turned to the Guardians, falling in step between them as they led him to a nearby container to be used as a temporary holding cell. It would give them enough privacy for their administrative punishment, and they wouldn’t have to waste any more energy than necessary hauling Syd to a SecuriTech depot. 

He knew the drill.

When they were done, he’d be dumped out on the street again, with an apology for the inconvenience. He’d taken so many punishments for his patron that he wasn’t even afraid anymore. Every punishment he suffered because of his patron pushed Syd to work even harder to get himself out of debt for good. He was almost grateful. He knew it would hurt—it always hurt—but the pain reminded him he would one day be free. 

“So, what’d he do this time?” Syd asked as they led him into the dimly lit cell.