The Law and the Codas

Chapter Eleven

He leans back in his chair and waits, hands cupping his chin. A look of indifference glazes over his features though his gaze remains laser precise. He's testing us, though I don't know on what. Guess there was no way of bullshitting my way to a passing grade.

Sam lurches forward, his gaze on the glass and the condensation dripping down the sides. He salivates. I can't tell if he's thirsty enough to trust Izzer not to poison him, or is genuinely curious about the taste of alcohol. Whichever reason doesn't matter; Sam's being an idiot.

I grab a fistful of his shirt and yank him back. He stumbles into me, and I do the same. We're like dominoes, one falling on the other, but I'm saved face when I collide into something, thick, solid. When I look up, Sin, his deep brown eyes, and pale, narrow face, stare down at me. He nods and offers me a hand to get to my feet. I push Sam off me and thank him with an equally brief nod. Sam stands rigid, his mouth slack and on the verge of forming words, probably some berating remark, meant for me because I stopped him from doing something stupid.

I poke him in the side, making sure to dig my nail into his flesh. He winces and confusion dances across the anger etched on his face.

"Councilman," I whisper. "Don't trust him."

Just as Sam seems ready to calm, a dry, grating laugh rings out. We both whirl around to face its source. Pain from my injured ankle rockets through me. I wince and gulp back a scream. My teeth slam against each other. I refuse to let Izzer, Della, or the handful of Codas hear my weakness.

"Former Councilman," Izzer says. He leans forward in his seat, hands propping up his chin. My heart slams against my rib cage. "And which number are you?"

My tongue feels thick in my mouth, but I force words to take shape."Ten," I say.

The word hangs in the chasm between myself and Izzer before he smiles and licks his lips as if he liked the way it tasted.

Della places her empty glass on the counter, and the blue glow of the DEC streaks out behind her, adding color to the air for just a second before disappearing. Izzer turns to her, takes note of the chip. "So, she's the one who outfitted you with a DEC?"

Della frowns. She rubs the flesh behind the DEC, afraid of what touching it might cause to happen. "One-zero got the slip on me." The great and mighty Codas Commander avoids meeting my gaze.

I snort. "Guess you can't be the best all the time."

My comment rallies Della to her feet, her hand falling to rest comfortably atop her hip holster, fingers hungry to stick one between my eyes.

Izzer motions toward a sleek, rectangular Dispensary Station nestled in an alcove beside the kitchen sink. It leaks a low, monotonous hum into the air, while blue letters scroll across its touch screen, repeating the same phrase: Evening, Elias. The temperature inside the Aviary is a moderate 72 Fahrenheit. Sectors Seven, Nine, and Fourteen are scheduled for a light rain while Sector Twelve remains closed due to suspected gang violence.

Izzer nods toward the machine. "A small EMP will fry the chip's circuitry," I gasp. How did he-- "It's surprisingly fragile tech for how dangerous it is. Place a pill acquisition and that should do the trick."

Della's eyes go wide. "Should?"

Izzer shrugs. "Unless they've improved upon the original." He motions for Della's Neck. Begrudgingly, He smirks as he traces a finger along her back neck, He barely glances at the DEC. "Looks the same."

Della glowers. "And what if it doesn't work?"

"All twenty," he turns toward me and scratches his nose. "Or is it thirty thousand? It's been a long time--"