38

The crews had done their jobs, quick and hard, draining the train tanks down to nothing, leaving them empty and abandoned on the tracks. More patrol tories had shown up, but the cycle riders kept them occupied, drawing their attention away from the tanker crews. By the time a real patrol presence had managed to get to the tracks, the tanks were drained and the crews had slipped off into the night with almost all the fuel.

Almost.

They had left behind a bit of fuel, on a patch of concrete a short distance from the scene of empty, abandoned train cars. When the last crew got on their cycles to drive off, they lit a match and threw it at the fuel.

Flaming words greeted the tories that arrived on the scene.

¡Nix xisisa!

THE DEBT IS PAID.

OUR FIST IS CLOSED.

VARAZINA SAVES!

Ajiñe hadn’t been able to see it all. She had been on the ’goiz 960 with Renzi, tearing through the streets to keep the tories away until everything was done. When Gabrána, who had been able to watch it all, gave them the signal that the job was done, she and Renzi dropped off the streets into the old tunnels, giving all the tories the slip.

They never had a chance.

Ajiñe knew this day was coming, but she was still astounded it was here. Here heart hammered with fear and excitement and joy as Renzi cranked his cycle to racing gear through the old tunnel under the Ako Favel, coming up near Street Cohecta, not a single tory anywhere in sight. They surely were all swarming around the train site.

She led him to the bomb-out, parking his cycle in a hidden niche before heading in.

“Is this where you brought me the other night?” he asked.

“Fond memories?”

“It had its good points,” he said. “So, what we just did—”

“Crazy, hmm?” she said. “Look, I . . . I appreciate what you did there with the tory who was on me.”

“It was nothing,” he said, his head down. “I mean, him or us there, right?”

“It’s not nothing,” she said. She put her hand under his chin—his delightfully sharp chin—so she could look him in the eyes. Spirits, Gabrána was right about him. “I know you went to Hanez on a trump up, so . . . I know you’ve never had to do anything quite like that before.”

“No,” he said quietly. “But, you know, you can’t be squeamish in a war.”

“You think this is a war?” she asked.

“I think it is going to be one now,” he said. “Up until now, we, the, uh—”

“The Fists of Zapi,” she said. They hadn’t said the name around him yet, except when he was drugged. He deserved to know, and his eyes lit up at hearing that.

“The Fists of Zapi, yes. You’ve mostly been just a nuisance to the Alliance and the government and all. This is a new level, and they’re going to hit back hard.”

“Probably.”

“And, are . . . are we ready for that? Like, where did the fuel go? Who’s going to keep it safe? Where’s it going to go?”

“Too many questions,” she said. They got to the door of their hidden apartment. “Today we’re just going to celebrate the victory.”

“Right,” he said. “What do I smell?”

“That is Nicalla cooking in there.” She opened the door, and sure enough, Nic had set up a small grill pit with smoldering wood chips and the sweet smell of seasoned meat filled the place.

“We got a win,” Nicalla said. “And we have this lovely meat from the other job. I had been marinating it all day, figuring we’d either be celebrating, or it would be a last meal. Either way, worth it.”

“Celebration,” Ajiñe said, touching Nicalla on the arm gently—all the physical affection she would bear.

“Where are the others?” Nicalla asked. “I dropped sync as soon as the job was done.”

“You really are missing out when you do that,” Ajiñe said, snatching a sliver of meat off the grill.

“I’m really not,” Nicalla said firmly.

“But then you can’t do this,” Ajiñe said, putting the piece of meat in her mouth and letting the flavors play and dance on her tongue. “What do you think, Renzi?”

He ran his tongue across his teeth. “That’s . . . really delicious.”

“Indeed it is,” Ajiñe said.

“Spirits, what a joy, tasting things I didn’t put in my mouth,” Nicalla said flatly. “Whatever will I do without this in my life?”

“Nic,” Ajiñe said firmly. “I love you, I do. But you’re also very boring.”

“How I like it. Where are the others?”

The sync with the other three had been faint and fading, but Ajiñe still had a vague sense of them. “They’re almost here. And they aren’t waiting to celebrate.”

“Tell me none of them are trying to drive and fuck at the same time.”

“No,” Renzi said, and then he started laughing. “They are not trying that.”

“What are they doing?” Nicalla asked with an exasperated tone.

“You don’t want to know,” Ajiñe told her. “They’re celebrating a bit early, let’s leave it at that.”

“Spirits, I don’t know how you have that kind of energy,” Nicalla said. “I would appreciate it if you all just kept that to a low simmer for an hour or so while we eat and talk about what’s next, then I can go and you all can violate yourselves and each other however you like.”

Renzi raised an eyebrow at Ajiñe as if to tell her he was more than interested in that idea.

“Simmering it down,” Ajiñe said.

“Absolutely,” Renzi said as he sat down, but at the same time Renzi—or at least the connection of him—was right behind her, hand on her waist, kissing the back of her neck. That Renzi whispered in her ear, “Just a low simmer.”

“How are you doing that?” she asked out loud. She had been able to visit and project with the sync when at a high speed, and for a little bit afterward, but she had never known anyone to do it like this, sitting still and calm while their own projection was right there with them.

“Not entirely sure,” the real him said.

“Do you mind it?” he asked through the projection.

“Not at all,” she said, enjoying the sensation and the secret thrill of it all.

“Good,” his projection said, moving around in front of her. “This is really quite fascinating.”

“Disgusting,” a feminine voice said in her ear as another set of hands went around her waist. “She would nev—”

Then the projection of Renzi vanished, along with those additional hands.

“What was that?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’ve never . . . I’ve never seen anything like that.”

“What just happened?” Nicalla asked.

“Renzi and I are still in strong sync,” Ajiñe said. “And for a moment, someone new was with us.”

“Like, a stranger slipping into your sync?” Nicalla asked. Her brow furrowed in thought.

“Do you know what that is?”

“I’ve heard . . . just heard . . . that Varazina can do that. Like she does with the radio, she can slip into the frequency of the sync. She can feel her way in and join you.”

“That . . . that must be it,” Renzi said. It had clearly spooked him. For a bit, he looked rhique pale.

The door opened and Gabrána, Fenito, and Mensi poured in, hands on each other’s exposed skin and lips attached to each other.

“Ease it down!” Nicalla said. “I thought you were getting it out of your systems.”

“These two were definitely getting it into their system,” Gabrána said. “And it better be my turn soon.”

“Eat and plan first,” Ajiñe said. “Then the rest once Nicalla leaves. Out of respect.”

“Of course,” Gabrána said. She looked to Nicalla. “That’s how much I love you.”

“Same,” Nicalla said flatly. She had taken the last of the meat off the grill, laying it out on a platter with charred onions and chiles and tomatoes and a pile of tortillas. “But let’s eat this glory and then—”

The feeling hit Ajiñe hard. Tory angles. Static. From every direction.

“They found us!” she said. “We need to bolt!”

“Shit!” Nicalla said, gathering up her papers. “I can’t leave this here, or—”

“Come on,” Renzi said, grabbing Ajiñe’s hand. “We’ll draw them off, the rest of you clear off!”

Ajiñe would normally argue—that was her authority to say, not his—but he was right, and there was no time to waste. She ran out with him and got on his cycle. Spirits, hers wasn’t even here. Just one cycle for them to do this.

“Plan?” he asked her as he kicked up the cycle.

“Make noise, get their attention, so the others can get out with Nic’s notes and the truck,” she said. She wrapped one arm around his waist, and grabbed hold of her knife with the other. She knew she shouldn’t want a handcannon right now, but she still did.

“What I was thinking,” he said, and gunned his throttle, off like a shot.

Make noise is exactly what he did, revving the engine hard, skidding through the gravel to kick up as much as possible, and squealing the tires as he whipped around corners.

Four tories on cycles came up right behind them, jagged static with them. “You feel them?” she asked.

“Got it,” he said. He gunned hard through the Ako Favel, already drawing them more than a kilo from the bomb-out.

“Where are you?” Gabrána, still in sync, appearing behind Ajiñe.

“Coming up on the crossing to Miahez,” Ajiñe said.

“We’re out of there, I’m not feeling any on our tail.”

“They’re clear?” Renzi asked. “Then let’s scatter these tory shitheads.”

He buzzed up one steep hill; over the crest would take them in into Miahez, but as he started to slow down from the incline, he whipped around and launched back down, right at the tories. The distance closed before Ajiñe was even aware of what was happening, and faster than she could blink, he had weaved in between their formation and went right past them. All of them swerved out of the way, losing pace and balance. She looked back and saw that one of them had crashed into a powerpost, another had just fallen over, and the other two were struggling just to get turned around.

“Nice work!” she said. “Run it up and put some kilos between them and us.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said. He knocked it up a gear and wound around another circle to lead to Miahez and Street Xaomico. He whipped through it, getting completely clear as she checked again. No one was behind them.

Then the sharp static hit her hard from in front of them.

“Renzi!” was all she had a chance to say before he came to a screeching halt.

At least a dozen tories in a blockade in front of them, all of them with iron drawn.

“On the ground!” one shouted. “Drop the knife! Hands spread, touch nothing!”

“Too many of them,” his phantom whispered to her.

She threw down the knife and stepped off the cycle. He did the same, and in a snap, tories swarmed on them, pulling them to the ground and ironing them up.