armor with metallic hisses. Ian holstered his pistol and pulled up his blast rifle.
“Bianca, stay behind me. Aoife, hit him if you can.”
“On it,” she said.
She moved two meters to my right and brought her blast rifle up, still running. The mech decided she was the biggest threat and changed to shooting at her.
Aoife didn’t even break stride, she just consistently put shot groupings right in the mech’s face guard, until, on the fifth grouping, he stopped firing. She had repeatedly hit a moving target fifteen centimeters wide from over a hundred meters away. At a dead run.
Note to self: do not challenge her to a shooting competition.
We dashed past the disabled mechs. Breath sawed through my chest and my head pounded. My main focus became putting one foot in front of another. Ian shot at an unseen target, but they didn’t shoot back.
It felt like a century later when Ian finally turned down a side street. We circled around so we didn’t lead any pursuers straight to Yuko’s shop, but time was of the essence, so Ian didn’t bother with an elaborate deception.
Ian led us through a large, unmarked door. By unspoken agreement we all deactivated our shields. “Aoife, you have the door,” Ian said. She murmured her agreement.
This shop didn’t pretend to be anything other than what it was—an information exchange. A woman in her forties or fifties with straight, graying black hair and dark eyes stood behind a faux wooden counter. “Lady Bianca von Hasenberg, I presume?” she asked, her voice softly accented.
I opened my face guard over Ian’s growled protest. “I am. And you are?”
“Yuko Ponseti, at your service. Veronica spoke highly of you.”
“Of you, too.” I paused, then dived right in. Some brokers preferred to chat before getting down to business, but the longer we lingered, the more time the local crime bosses had to set up an ambush for us. “She said you could get me an invite to the Syndicate party tonight.”
“I can. In return for a favor.”
“What favor?”
“Unspecified.”
“I don’t deal in future favors.”
“I know, which is why it is so valuable.”
I would do about anything for my brother, but open-ended favors were dangerous for both me and the House. “No.”
Yuko stared at me for a long moment. “You’re serious.”
“Yes. I do not trade in future favors. Not even for this.”
“Why not agree and then renege? You’d still get what you want,” she said.
“Promises are important to me. I don’t make them with the intent to break them.”
Yuko smiled, a barely-there tilt at the corner of her lips. “Despite the rumors, I would not have believed it possible if I didn’t see it with my own eyes. A member of a High House who believes in honor.”
“I believe in keeping my promises,” I said. “But if I don’t secure an invitation, I’m going to sneak into the party even if I have to go through a whole host of guards to do it, and most would argue that’s not entirely honorable.”
“Promises are what I care about,” Yuko replied. “My daughter is imprisoned on Pluto. She’s been there for over a year, and for the last three months, my Pluto contacts have failed to check in. If you promise to do everything you can to get her out, I will give you the invitation you need.”
Pluto was one of the oldest prison planets in existence and was now used almost exclusively for political prisoners the Consortium wanted buried. Pardons were difficult to obtain. “Does she have to get out legally?” I clarified.
“Legally would be better, but no. I just want her home.”
“Very well. You get me a valid invitation to the Syndicate party tonight and I will do everything in my power to get your daughter out of prison, though it may end up being less than legal. The Consortium rarely gives up political prisoners, even to the daughter of a High House. Also, my brother’s rescue comes first. As soon as he’s safe—” I paused, but didn’t want to think about any other outcomes. “Your daughter will be my priority after my brother.”
She held out her hand. “Deal.”
I carefully took her hand in my gloved one and shook it. “Deal. Send me whatever information you have on her, no matter how small.”
Yuko nodded, then bent to open a small, biometrically locked safe. She pulled out a square envelope made of thick, expensive paper. “This is the invitation everyone received. There are no names, so you don’t have to worry about faking an ID.