The inside of Della's room, the hardwood creaks as I lug Della toward the bed. Every few feet she winces and clutches her side, though I can see the look of detest swimming in her eyes at having to show such vulnerability to me.
Once Della can place a hand on the bed, I release her from my grasp. She undoes the strap of her thigh holster and sets in on the bedside table, where loaded cartridges lay scattered.
"Here," Della says, handing me her conceal carry holster. I take it, feel the worn leather straps as I run my fingers over them. "Closet." Della points to the door on her right.
I nod as she begins to remove her boots and make for the double doors.
"Ten," Della calls. I slam the door closed, take a few deep breaths and turn to face her. She raises her good arm. "Help me get this off."
I shuffle back across the room and taking Della's injured arm, raise it carefully, and begin to slide the ruined shirt over Della's breasts and head. She heaves a sigh of relief once she's free of the stained, tattered rag. Dirt rubs off on my fingers, the shirt's acrid odor- a mix of smoke and sweat and gunpowder - causing my nose to wrinkle. Della nods to the floor. "Toss it."
I release the garment and let it flutter to the ground. At the slight disturbance, dust takes to the air, coating my sneakers in a thin layer of brown.
Bending over, I wipe the toes of my shoes. "Ever think about hiring some cleaning services? I heard they're pretty cheap. Saw a few adverts on the Network feed before--" I swallow.
Before the pictures came back of the destroyed sect. Before Dove's speech dominated every corner of the Network, the country naively rallying behind his declaration.
Della shifts on the bed, her back flush with the wall. "In there," Della says, motioning toward the bedside table. "There's a few tools wrapped in a towel. Grab them."
She nudges me. "You have sand in your ears?" Grinning, she leans over and adds, "or are you daydreaming about the Chemist? Maybe Ellie didn't manage to intrude at the right moment--"
I cough and yank open the drawer. Inside, just as Della had said, lays a bundle of blue fabric. I toss it across the bed as Della nods her approval. Inside, tools any good mechanic would have at their disposal lay scattered - a screwdriver, ratchet set, a pair of tweezers, electrical tape, and several loose nuts and bolts.
Della grabs the tweezers and places them between her teeth. Taking her good hand, she grabs a flap of torn bio-skin from her prosthetic and wrenches it upward. Her teeth slam down on the tweezers, as the skin is severed from her arm. Black fluid, the grease that kept the gears and finer machinations of the prosthetic running smoothly, ooze over her arm and drip onto the bed. My hand flies up to my mouth as a queasiness erupts in my stomach and the probability of me vomiting over the commander's bed grows steadily more likely.
"Christ," I say, my voice muffled. "Couldn't give me a little heads up?"
Without bothering to acknowledge me, Della spits out the tweezers. "Hand me the screwdriver."
Her intense gaze is focused on the intricacy of the wires which overlap one another like cobwebs. I watch, mesmerized, as she picks through the wires, clipping some, tightening others, all while blue sparks danced above her skin. I'd never seen a prosthetic in person.
Della snaps her fingers and the trance of watching her work is broken. "You do know what a screwdriver is?"
I nod, pick up the slightly rusted tool and toss it onto her lap. "We had to dismember drives and VR dots for tests."
Della nods, and then, drives the tip of the screwdriver into her arm, until half the metal shaft has been consumed. Something clicks within the hollow between bone and synthetic muscle before the whole of the prosthetic goes dark. "Makes sense," Della says as she extracts the screwdriver. More black gunk drips down its tip. "Izzer knows his mechanics." She mulls over her words, as if they'd left a sour taste in her mouth. "Christ, complimenting that guy is almost as bad as getting caught in that explosion."
Before long, she asks me again for the screwdriver which I don't hesitate to give her. After shoving it into her arm again, the circuitry comes back to life, pulsing an electric blue. Della bends her fingers, each of which respond to her neural transmitters, sensed through the arm's nanotech.
I inhale, brace myself for any sudden impact, since only one of Della's hands were out of action, and ask, "What actually happened?"
Releasing a sigh, Della leans back and places her hands over her head. "I'm sure you heard all about it from the Law." She flicks a strand of hair out of her eye. "Dove put on quite the show. Should win an award for the best actor."
"Was that all true?"
Della's face hardens. "For the most part." She lets her hands drop to her sides. "We'd just arrived, were drawing out new territories to get the El Accosta to stop attacking our warehouses and shipments." A frown emerges on her face. "Before we could agree to anything, the bombs detonated." She flicks her hand back and closes her eyes. "And no, I had nothing to do with the explosion."
I drag my feet along the ground, tracing the scuff marks placed there from Della's boots. "Was it the El Accosta?"
Della shrugs. "Maybe. But if it had been, they sure as hell didn't come out unscathed. About just as many of their soldiers as mine died in the blast. I can't say for certain, but I think it was the Law's Birds. Retribution on both of us for our acts of treason." She growls. "Over half the Codas was buried in that rubble." Her hand comes down hard and fast on the bed. "Goddamned assholes!"
"Yeah." I shake my head, not expecting to feel as unsatisfied with Della's answer as I was. She hadn't detonated the bombs, but...Dove would never stop hunting us.
Della turns away from me, straightens up. "You should get some sleep."
"Della," I say.
Her shoulders fall. "Haven't rummaged around in my business enough?"
I shake my head. "I'm like a black hole. I consume everything around me and yet I'm never full."
Della shoots me a sideways glance, a pale imitation of the gun I know she wishes she could shoot at me instead. Too bad she was injured and the gun out of her reach. "Can't have a moment without that one-zero wit."
"Are you really planning on leaving things with Keran like they are?"
Della runs her hand along her thigh. "She's the one with the problem, so she needs to come up with a solution."
I snort. "Oh, come on. That's bullshit. You lied about your arm and she got pissed when she found out the truth."
Her eyes flick toward the ceiling, focusing on a large black spot overhead. "Isn't that how it is? The truth's worse than the lie told in its place?"
I nod. "It can be, but people have a right to know."
Della sighs. "Keran needs to learn that even her most trusted allies keep secrets."
"And your way of teaching her that is to be a total--"
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the dispensary light change from yellow to blue. A paper cup pushes up through the bottom before two round white pills are spit into it.
Della points at me, then it. "Mind getting those?"
I amble over to the dispensary, grab the cup and return. Della swallows the pills dry and crumples the cup. Again, she looks wistfully at the ceiling. "I wish Keran could learn these lessons slowly, but I don't have a lot of time left."
I blink. What had Della - the Commander of the Codas and scariest person aside from Dove I've ever met - just said? I rub my eyes, as if doing so will bring about the clarity I'm obviously lacking. Della chuckles. "You think it's impossible?"
"Yes." I shoot to my feet, the mattress creaking in my absence. "I thought for certain, even if your limbs rotted off, that horrid, unwavering personality of yours would carry your corpse to whatever end you had in mind for the Collective."
Her laughter quiets. "That doesn't work when you're rotting from the inside." She pokes her sternum. "Congenital heart failure."
I slump back onto the bed. Christ. Just like Deuce.
Della sneers. "Must run in the genes."
I nod and wrap hands over each other. "So...you're not going to tell Keran, then?"
Della sighs. "This truth, my truth, is worse than the lie."
We let the conversation lapse into silence. What else could be said?
Finally, Della turns to me. "I'm going to need you to rejoin the runs."
I gape. "I told you, I'm not--"
She runs a hand through her hair. "What's the cost?"
I blink.
She shakes her head. "Think of it like I'm contracting you. So what payment do you require to go on the runs? Money? Tech? A separate space in which to screw the Chemist to your horny heart's desire?" Her lips curve upward at this last comment, but I'm too shocked by her offer to react. "Come on, I'm telling you I'll give you whatever it is you--"
"A promise," I blurt.
"A promise?" She arches a brow.
I nod. "Yeah, I want you to promise that you won't use the twins for any future runs."
Della frowns. "I'm asking you to do the runs so I have another person. If I agree, I'll lose more than I gain."
I shrug. "But I'll lead them. Do what needs to be done." I ball my hands into fists. "I've already killed someone." The words stay in the air between us. "And I'll do it again. The twins won't murder anyone."
Della considers this, and then, says, "So you're saying if I take them off the rotation, you'll what? Be their leader?"
I shake my head. "I'll be your soldier."
Della's face hardens. "Don't make choices you'll regret." She outstretches her hand. With an inhale, I take it. Her fingers snap around mine like traps being sprung, ensnaring me at the moment. "You sure?"
Her grip loosens as if she's expecting me to turn tail and run. But I'd made my choice and just like when Della had imploded the Facility, there would be no going back. I nod. "I'm sure."
I slip away from her and though my feet feel cemented to the ground, I manage to press them together and slam a fist onto my chest. My salute wasn't as good as Ellie's, but it was all I could manage.
"Commander," I say. "Awaiting orders."