I stared at her, but her outline grew fuzzy as I did a mental check of what was still in my head, and then I realized what I’d done. I’d had Abby cut the line of transmission carrying Bastien’s files to Odyssey, as well as Mack’s ship. They were going to be furious.

  “Fuck,” I said, and three sets of gazes sharpened.

  Three sets, all fixed on me.

  Double-the-fuck.

  I tried to pull out of my companion’s grip, but he pushed off the wall, and pivoted so that he was between me and the woman in grey. And then he rested his forearm across the top of my chest, just below the collarbone.

  Seeing there’d be no point in struggling, I set about locking down as much of my head as I could. It might not keep them out forever, but it would certainly slow them down. If Odyssey or Mack made it this far, I could always let them know these people had the copy. It might not buy me much time, but it might buy me enough.

  … or it might get me rescued, although rescued might not be the right term for it.

  “Stop her!” The woman’s command snapped out, and I worked just a little faster, throwing code as quick as I could think it.

  Being lifted and shaken, before being slammed back into the wall broke my concentration, and I opened my eyes, using both hands to try and push my captor away. I even lashed out with a bare foot, and saw his fist go back.

  “Don’t!” Again, the woman in gray commanded, and, again, he obeyed.

  I was almost getting to like her, when I saw the needle. My eyes registered it, and my body tried to escape, while my mind descended into gibbering panic. It took another fist to the solar plexus, and an arm across my throat to hold me still long enough for the muscle relaxant to take effect.

  Once the needle was out of me, and out of sight, I calmed down a bit.

  “What was it?”

  “Zecucronine.”

  “Fuck.”

  I made a half-hearted wave of my arm, and got a semi-flop. My legs went to jelly, and the only thing holding me up was the arm across my chest. The woman in gray was not amused.

  “There’s no need to be crude, dear,” she said, then turned to my ‘support,’ “Put her on the gurney, Simon.”

  Simon, huh? I would have said something about that, except my jaw wouldn’t respond. I think I might have been drooling, but I was more concerned about just how hard it was getting to breathe.

  “Steady, dear. We’ll fix the air up shortly.”

  Now, why didn’t I find that comforting? She came into view, and plugged a jack into the back of her skull.

  Right. That would be why. I might have tried to move my head and make it hard for her to plug the other end into my skull, except I couldn’t move.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  “Easy there,” she said, as her presence slipped into my implant, and took a look around. “Now, what do we have here?”

  My body might have been paralyzed, but I was very conscious. I glared at her, and activated the defensive programs I’d prepared. There was amusement in her voice, when next she spoke.

  “My, you are the feisty one, but we don’t really have the time to dance.”

  Another needle bit into my shoulder, and a wave of dizziness followed shortly after.

  “Why don’t you have a little nap, dear?” was a suggestion that followed me down into the dark.

  I wasn’t sure what I was going to find when I woke up. Nothing good, I was sure.

  Man, I hated being right.

  I woke up, still naked, and still unable to move. Worse still, I woke up in a box, with my wrists and ankles chained together, knuckle to ankle and vice versa.

  Fan-fucking-tastic.

  “Please let me out.” Even to me, my voice sounded faint, weak, and way too close to tears. “Please?”

  There was no response, and I wondered if anyone was even monitoring the box. Seeing as I couldn’t uncurl myself from the cramped position I’d woken in, and given that being stuck inside a box was starting to bother me, I closed my eyes, and vanished into my own head.

  And there the news got worse. The first thing I checked were the links. They’d been tampered with, but they were intact. The files, though. The files I’d locked down weren’t locked down any more—and they’d been copied; I could see the markers. The memory footage of where I’d been, and the conversations I’d had had also been copied, but I found no trace of Abby.

  There should have been some trace of Abby. And I mean in more than just the soggy human part of my head. I worked my way through the implant, noting what had been copied, and what had been left…and then I came across something new.

  That couldn’t be good.

  …so, of course, I poked it.

  And it opened.

  Simon, the guy from the bus smiled at me, and I scrambled backwards on my virtual ass, trying to get away from the link that opened between us.

  “What do you want? Who are you?”

  “You’re awfully talkative for someone who’s been sedated and put in a box.”

  “I was looking for work.”

  His face took on the expression of someone who’s just seen something unexpected.

  “What?”

  “I needed to find work.”

  “And you figured hacking a planet-wide network was the best way to do that?”

  “I figured something had to exist between the cracks.”

  His mouth twisted, but whether in distaste, or amusement, I couldn’t tell. Whatever it was, it wasn’t pleasant.

  “Things try.”

  If I’d been using my real voice, my mouth would have gone dry, the way he said that.

  “They try?”

  “And they don’t get very far.”

  “Oh.”

  “Because we have a team that hunts down each and every one, both in the virtual and the real. As you found out…Jocelyn Cutter.”

  I stared at him. I couldn’t think of anything to say, and now he did smirk, but I flipped out of my head, pulling at the chains that bound my hands and feet, and pushing at the sides of the box. When nothing I did made any difference, I curled up around my knees, and closed my eyes. After a few seconds’ peace, Simon nudged me.

  “I hear there’s an auction in two days’ time.”

  Two days? How long had I been out?

  I said nothing in reply to his suggestion. Just waited. After a couple of moments, he continued.

  “We think it would be entertaining to hold one shortly after.”

  Now, I really had nothing to say, but he pushed the issue.

  “What do you think, Cutter?”

  Good question. What did I think?

  “I think you’d be better off hiring me.”

  “Why? You can’t do anything our people can’t.”

  “Because you’ve helped yourself to what’s inside my head…and I’m sure you know who’s laid claim to that.”

  It was his turn to be quiet, so I waited, watching his face as he thought about what I’d said—and it was my turn to push.

  “What do you have to say to that?”

  He replied, but not in words.

  Pain seared through my head, and then it spread out of my head and down my neck, and into my chest, my gut, and my legs. I don’t even know when I started screaming, but I do know when I stopped.

  Tens kicked in the door.

  To my implant, not the room in which the box was kept.

  It was Mack who kicked in that door.

  Looks like Abby wasn’t going to get her auction after all.