Page 10 of Jump or Fall
Mara
T he rusty door creaked open and they quickly backed away from each other. Silva entered first, followed by a young woman with a deep tan and short, platinum blonde hair. The hard line of her lips and pinched brows gave her a severe look.
Silva eyed Mara and Gordon, seated directly across from each other, but said nothing and moved straight into introductions. “Kimmie, this is Mara Tainan, Master Tailor at Hyperion. Mara, this is Kimmie Alphito, Squad Leader for Enforcer Division Eight.”
The Outskirts. No wonder she looked pissed.
Kimmie stood with her hands on her hips. Her bare arms were muscular and just as tan as her face. She looked Mara up and down, scrutinizing.
“I don’t know why you’re trying to peel my skin off with your eyes,” Mara said, “but you could just say something.”
Kimmie rolled her eyes and turned to Silva. “How do you know we can trust her? I’ve heard stories about Karena. She still raved about that asshole even after being dumped on the edge of Eight.”
Gordon studied Mara’s reaction carefully, maybe to see if there was any truth to the accusation.
Things were not off to a good start. “Don’t compare me to Karena. I don't enjoy being someone’s pet,” Mara replied coolly .
Kimmie cocked an eyebrow. “If you hate it all so much, why haven’t you killed yourself or tried to escape?”
“Getting involved with you people is picking one of those options.”
Kimmie opened her mouth to fire back, but Silva interjected. “Let’s all just calm down and have a discussion.”
Kimmie’s shoulders tensed, but she snapped her mouth shut and took a seat next to Gordon. He shifted away in his chair, creating a wide gap between them.
Silva scanned the room, ensuring the tension had eased up before continuing.
“The mech is finished. They want to deploy it on Friday to patrol the edge of Eight. After last month’s arson and the loss of two enforcers, they don’t want to risk too many human patrols in the area.
They won’t put one directly in Eight yet, given its size and the locals’ reputation for taking apart anything expensive. ”
Kimmie ignored the apparent jab. “There are still twelve of us assigned to Eight, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they pull us back if that mech survives.
A ten-footer won’t fit down most of the pathways, though, so they would need to invest in a smaller one.
How’s everything for tomorrow’s mission? ”
Gordon spoke next. “I’ve placed an EMP device on the corner of Tyre and Paragon. On the opposite side of the street is a blister box.”
They really were in this to cause destruction. A blister box contained an extremely volatile acidic compound—one that could cause severe burns, melt Araflex, and weaken armor plates, making them more vulnerable to bullets and blunt force.
“What time do you want Wells to set the fire?” Kimmie asked. “I already talked to Dax about subbing in Seven.”
Wells. Another name to add to the growing list.
“9:30. Fewer people around, and Division Seven has four Silvers on that shift. If you can somehow divert the others, that would be ideal.”
“I can try,” Kimmie said, “but there are a lot of newbies trying to prove something. Getting them away from the action won’t be easy. ”
“Fair enough,” he replied.
The casual acceptance of collateral damage irked Mara, but she kept it to herself. She didn’t exactly have clean hands, considering she armored the very machine they were trying to dismantle.
Kimmie turned her attention to Mara. “Silva says the synth-minds are going out soon. That true?”
“Yes. I was able to delay the first round of deployments by a week, but Millon and Chief Dax picked Eight to go first.”
“Fuckin’ perfect,” she seethed. “They don’t have any Silvers in Eight’s squad now, so we’re the test subjects.”
Mara frowned, mulling over the concerns. There wasn’t much she could do about the rollout order, but maybe she could do something else.
“When I deploy the updates to the suits,” Mara said to Gordon, “it will be through a screen that looks similar to the inventory system. I see groups of suits separated by Division assignment, then the assigned name.” She held up the key she used for forging the numbers.
“Could you make it so we can disable the synth-mind in certain suits? If we can do that, then we have a better chance against them.”
Gordon took the key, his fingertips lightly brushing hers. The contact sent an unexpected rush of warmth through her.
Kimmie’s eyes narrowed and a muscle in her jaw jumped.
“Yes,” he said, “but I can do something even better. After looking through what you sent before, I found a way to take over the synth-mind suits and control them remotely.”
Kimmie slammed her hand down on the table. “Holy. Shit.”
Mara’s eyes widened. Controlling humans like puppets? That was unheard of.
“So, theoretically,” Silva said, “we could order every enforcer with the upgrade to attack the Silvers?”
Gordon shook his head. “Unfortunately, there’s a limitation.
One remote can only control three suits at a time.
I’ll have to dig deeper to see if that can be increased.
The synth-mind already uses a lot of power from the lithpacks.
Augmented strength and the vision enhancements are low enough to be supplied by sunlight and only use the lithpack under cloud cover or if it’s night. ”
“The power needs of the suits will go up drastically with the upgrades,” Mara added. “A controlled suit probably drains a vast amount just to maintain the connection.”
“Better to hold off on using it until we really need it,” Gordon concluded.
Silva leaned back and pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up. “Keep me posted. Mara, I’ll meet with you on Monday to go over the fictitious sync problem. Kimmie. Gordon. Goodnight.”
He pushed away from the table and left, the rusty door scraping shut behind him.
Kimmie glanced between Mara and Gordon again, clearly debating something. Finally, she stood. “Send the bird when you’re in position tomorrow night.”
Gordon pressed his lips together and nodded without looking up. Kimmie bristled but left, though not without shooting Mara one last glare.
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, Gordon began drumming his fingers on the table. “I was a high-level member of Surveillance,” he said at last. “I told you I got into hacking early. Earned my stripes young—mostly for theft and things involving fire. Typical unsupervised teenager shit.”
He shook his head. “Over a decade ago, I got drunk and thought it’d be funny to hack into the Enforcer Chief’s security feed.
Of his house. I didn’t even remember to mask my location.
He got a notification that someone was watching the live, unencrypted feed of his balcony.
Of course they found me. I thought I was dead on the spot, but instead, they gave me a job .
“Surveillance had me test security systems, find exploits, profile people. Spy, basically. But four years ago, I started pushing back on the stuff they wanted me to do.” He paused. “I wrote the program on your tablet. That’s how I knew to look for it.
“Anyway, I told my boss I was done.” He waved a hand. “I’m not some white knight, and I don’t think I’m a good person. I’ve killed people and wrecked a lot of shit. But I don’t get off on hurting women and I was sick of helping them do that.”
He rubbed the scar on his face. “Well, you and everyone else can see how that went.”
Mara absorbed the confession, but she wasn’t shocked or angry. She had already assumed his secret past would involve something he feared might drive her away. He was clever and skilled with tech, so of course Surveillance would’ve been clamoring to take him on.
But he’d left. He’d walked away and paid a terrible price just to stop helping them hurt women like her.
“Dawson showed up at Hyperion when I was still an apprentice,” she said.
“He decided then and there that I’d be his shiny new trophy who makes armor.
He took me off the street and held me captive.
I was still allowed to work, obviously, but I had to live with him in Division One.
He didn’t move me out until I was broken down enough to not try anything stupid.
” She studied him. “I’m assuming since we’re both in our thirties now, that you didn’t help him stalk me ten years ago. ”
Gordon grimaced as he looked everywhere but at her. “No. Just his piece-of-shit followers. I was telling the truth when I said I didn’t know much about you.”
Mara shrugged. “I’ve spent enough time with Dawson and his type to know you’re nothing like them. Silva arms the monsters and I make them armor. We all have a hand in the problem for our own reasons.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgment.
“So,” she said, “am I allowed to join tomorrow night, or do I have to wait? I can tell Kimmie is thrilled by my presence. ”
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Bring your gauntlets. Tomorrow, I’ll show you how to use them.”
“Good.” She was excited—not just about learning something new, but about spending more time with him.
She glanced toward the door and stood. “Would you mind walking me back to the tunnel entrance? I know this safe house is closer, but I’m not sure I can find my way.” The truth was, she didn’t want to leave him yet.
“I wouldn’t expect you to figure it out on your own.”
He stood and crossed the room to hold the door open for her.
As Mara passed him, she felt the warmth of his presence around her. A deeper breath drew in the scent of him—his riding jacket, a trace of detergent, and something masculine.
Not a hint of cologne.
She had to resist the urge to lean in.
Stop thinking about him like this. You’re damaged goods. No one who knows about Dawson will want you.