If nothing else, Corporal Bishop is good for his word; he both arrests me and refrains from breaking my nose. Marching me through intake, taking my biometrics, and keeping me cuffed the whole time. It must have been quite the sight, though I only catch a brief look at the beefy, glowering Lenny Gruder. Seeing him being processed out as I'm frog-marched past, blood dripping down my chin. If he doesn't seem thrilled to see me, he at least looks satisfied that he's being discharged.

All this for a show, to convince a rat to run back to his nest? Ugh, maybe I did go a little overboard. At least he should be in a hurry to leave the station now. I guess he'll lead Codes to his home back and tag all his software. They can sweep him and his friends up at their leisure. Mission accomplished, can I get paid and go home? Not even in that order.

Sitting in a bleak grey faraday-caged cell, I don't have the opportunity to do much but contemplate my decisions and catch up on current-events. No windows, just one door, and a pad that doubles as a bed and floor. There are no nodes to link with, of course, but Corporal Bishop was polite enough to leave the news broadcasts playing from the speakers. It's mostly bad news, since that's what sells.

Locally, problems are cropping up everywhere. Luddite gangs are causing problems on Callisto again, and the Governor is cracking down hard. The reports talk about blowback from the new curfew and random home inspections. There's been a communications blackout around Titan, though it's unclear if malware or sabotage is to blame. There are some interesting digital-life demographic reports about the Kuiper; seems some synths are trying to form a breakaway colony.

Elsewhere? Not much better. There's a report that a batch of ore-harvesters chowing down on a trans-Neptunian dwarf went haywire, and talking heads debate whether they've been hijacked by someone or something. On Earth, Voidborne Industries' private hypersonic jet crashed in the Atlantic, killing their CEO. No obvious mechanical defects, sabotage or malware suspected. There's impotent fury on the exonet over privatization contracts on virt spaces, more all the time. Some metal markets in the Dark District are yoyoing without obvious cause, and someone's shouting about collusion. Same shit, different day.

I must have drifted off at some point, sitting with my back against the cold metal bulkhead, because the door hissing open startles me awake. Blinking, I stare up at Corporal Bishop, and Sparrow standing behind him.

The Corporal gives me a sardonic smile. "Congratulations, Cruz. Sparrow paid your bail," he says, crossing his arms nodding over his shoulder. You get to go home."

"Gee, thanks Bishop," I mutter, sore back protesting as I stand. "And what about Lenny Gruder?"

I get a shrug in response, the redhead stepping away from the door. "His racing skiff, the Shrike, undocked and departed Argus Station about twenty minutes ago."

I sigh in relief as I step out of the cell, my overlay blooming in silver once more. "So, is he heading to Callisto? Has he pinged anyone?" I take a moment to link into the nearest node. "What's the play from here?"

Bishop's smile vanishes. "From here, it's Code Enforcement's play. You're out," he says, gesturing past the cellblock. "Time to leave it to the cops, Dame."

I clench my jaw, squaring up with him, before Sparrow lays a gentle hand on my arm. "Melody, let's go. Nothing is going to change in the next few hours."

Bishop gives her a pitying glance, and I feel a flush crawl up my neck. "Yeah, fine," I mutter, turning with her. She's dressed in a blue jumper that fails to cover the hexagonal patterns winding down her legs. Still, even that barely distracts me from the tense silence as we leave the lockup. Stepping out into station proper, watching foxfire crawl along the outer hull, I chew my lip for a moment. "Thanks for bailing me out, Sparrow."

"They're your credits, Melody," she points out, giving me a sidelong glance. "Besides, as I recall, you busted me out of a cell once."

My lips quirk up at that. "Well, Brent technically sprang you," I murmur, feeling my belly tighten. More silence passes before I sigh, hanging my head. "Sorry. This was a total shitshow, and I made it worse."

"You aren't actually going to be criminally charged, you know." Sparrow elbows me, giving me a weak smile. "I talked to Todd; he's already said they'll 'decline to prosecute.'"

"I won't get the credits back, though," I mutter, shaking my head.

Sparrow shrugs, walking silently beside me, the tattoo tracing serpentine whorls along her arms. "You know, decking the suspect might not have been the best idea."

I feel my belly clench, and I take a deep breath. "Really? After what he did?"

"Melody..." Sparrow sighs and stops, brushing the blue bangs from her eyes. "I get it. Really, I understand. But maybe you're a little too close to this case?"

"Gee, you think?" I snap, making her eyes widen. "Why do you think I'm giving the client a discount?"

Sparrow meets my eyes, the tattoo fading from her skin. "I'm just saying, Melody. It might not hurt to let Codes do the heavy lifting. You get paid either way."

I scoff, lifting my hands. "It's not just about the credits. It's about right and wrong."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Sparrow searches my face. "To you, maybe. And I don't think that's all it's about," she adds, looking me up and down. "But to everyone else, it's about legal and illegal, so let Code Enforcement handle it."

"Fine! And sorry for yelling!" I snap at her, watching her eyebrow rise. I run a hand through my hair. "I just... the room was so hot, and crowded. The air was thick. He had his hands all over me the whole time. And he was bragging about..." I clench my hands. "He deserved it," I mutter softly, not daring to look at Sparrow. He hurt Lucy. He tried to kill you.

For a moment, she doesn't reply. "Melody, you can go around cracking the skull of every black-hat lowlife who crosses your path, but it sounds exhausting." She takes my hand in hers, pausing and squeezing my palm. "Why don't you leave work behind? Want to go for a walk in the park?"

The one your mother runs basically solo? The one in the open bay that Lenny Gruder blew up on orders from the Gaian League? The same one that's only just now up and running again? I shake my head. "Not yet. Go on ahead; first, I want to do some shopping."

As Argus station is a large wheel, and most of the civilian shops are glorified storage bays for inventory rented out by the station manager. Simple affairs, they tend to be ad-hoc and unlicensed; a counter with some displays and prefabbed seating set up. The small shop I'm headed to has even less than that, since it's only a quarter of a storage bay. It shares the rest with a fab shop, who's equipment takes up most of the space. Given that my destination peddles mostly software, it makes sense there's not much physical inventory to take up room.

And I admire the name. The Pirate Bay; a pretty good joke from a software dealer. Leaning over a counter is the proprietor, an augmented man with unique eyewear and a thick faux-leather jacket, tattoos, and a bald head. He's a pain in the ass too, though less now that 'Dame' is a recognizable name. He still doesn't like former cops much, but at least he takes my credits.

As I step inside, Spike focuses his eyewear on me. "Yo, Dame. I'd say good to see you, but I hear you got arrested. And you look like you lost a fistfight, yah?" he says, baring his teeth in a half-smile and giving me a sarcastic salute.

"I won the fight, Spike; that's why I was arrested," I say, rolling my eyes. I lean against the counter, meeting his... well, I guess not his eyes. His gaze. "But I'm out on bail, so just collate data. You got my order?"

The heavily tattooed man behind the counter boasts a shaved head, and the goggle-like augmentations over his eyes whir as he wides the visual spectrum. Maybe checking me for recording devices. "Yo, I got you Dame. Six sniffers, three biters, tested and approved."

I grunt, narrowing my eyes. "I said six of each."

"I got what I can get, ya dig me?" He tsks, the augmentations glowing red as he snaps his fingers at me. "Could just clone the biters, ya know. Copy, paste, no fuss."

I snort. "Right, running identical code in hunter-killers? So they'd all have identical flaws and weaknesses to malware?"

He shakes his head, eyewear scoping in and out. "Dame, even Codes don't personalize their packets, ya know?"

"Some individual officers do. Besides, I told you I want a mix of manufacturers and production lines. Even obsolete or modded copies are fine. Just make sure they don't share the same versions of base-code and operating systems." Because I want diversity. I want it hard to hack everything at once. And simpler is better, with Communion still somewhere on the grid.

"Hey, you're the customer." He snickers at me, augments shifting to glow blue. I clear the credits for all nine, and he tosses me their digital keys. "Must be getting lots of business then, 'ey Dame?"

"Sure, I'm getting some offers from potential clients," I say, browsing the AIs for issues. Keys match, code seems clear, no signs of obvious pirating. Satisfied, I authorize payment, nodding to him. "Though most of the pings are from others, not potential clients; I've had to set my profile to private."

I get a blank look back, which is easier to pull off without eyes. "No lie, huh? Made lots of enemies, yah?"

I reach up and rub my forehead, sighing. "Probably, but that's not the issue. Dame is getting plenty of pings from 'fans'."

He shakes his head, eyewear scoping in and out. "Ah, and I'm guessing they're not paying gigs?"

"Not the kind I intend to take," I add, feeling a flush crawl up my face. Turning red, I look around the shop at the meager physical goods. "But I will take a dampener, if you've got some in stock."

"Sure, but just a personal dampener, not for a ship," he explains, waving a hand. Spike gives me a wide grin. "Can't do stealth tech, told ya before."

"I wonder about that," I say, tilting my head. "You could link and boost a few personal dampeners to cover a shuttle, right?"

"Yo, not legally," he chuckles, "But if you want to buy a dozen from me and network them together on your own, feel free to try. Hah, just don't put the Chimera in for an inspection unless you want it impounded, ya dig?"

I chuckle back. "I'm not looking to turn smuggler. But you know, there are plenty of people who might want to take a crack at me," I say, thinking back to Gruder's threat. Really fucked now, huh? I shake my head. "Any remnant of the League might pop up, holding a grudge. Some survivors of the mess on Ganymede who blames me for the change in management might make a trip over. Hell, some of the corpos might be gunning for me; they lost a lot of money when the nuke went off on Europa."

"Yeah, I heard GenCorp cancelled their planned op on Europa," Spike says softly. He straightens up, giving me a quiet look. "So, did you have something to do with their board? That why you want stealth tech?"

I blink rapidly at that. "Something to do... their board? You mean on Earth? I haven't been back there for almost twenty years," I scoff. He's silent for a moment, tilting his head, and it takes me a second to gain traction on the question. "Wait, what do you mean? What happened?"

"GenCorp won't be plumbing the depths of Europa anytime soon," the software peddler says quietly. Spike's augment whirs, and I wonder briefly if the tech makes him a lie-detector too. "They won't be doing much other than damage control; their board of directors died yesterday."

My mouth falls open. "What, all of them?"

He crosses his arms and nods. "Freak accident, according to the news on the exonet. Their stock suddenly nosedived and trading was halted. The chair called an emergency meeting; in the middle of it, there was some sort of blowback in their power system. There was a fire, and all the building's door locks engaged. They couldn't get out," he says, with a calm tone that makes goosebumps rise on my arms.

I lean forward, scratching my chin. "Sounds more like foul play. Maybe they pissed off the wrong corpo."

Spike nods. "Yo, you'd think, but nobody seems to know who or why, and it's causing ripples," he adds with a shrug. Pumping me for info, Spike?

I roll it around int my head a bit. "Huh. I guess I won't complain, but I had nothing to do with it. I will take that dampener, though."

He raises his eyebrows. "Really? I'm disappointed, Dame. You don't know nothin'?"

I shake my head. "Not about that. Sounds like a tragedy."

"A room full of dead oligarchs?" His lips peel back in a wide smile, eyes shining blue. "Sounds like a good start."

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