Chapter 21

Amaya’s heart fluttered with hope. For the first time since yesterday morning, she felt like she had a clear direction to some answers about Marcus. The caller had identified herself only as Z, but had made it clear that she had information that could help Amaya find the truth about her brother. Allonz was stunned, primarily because he knew Z. She wasn’t one of his people, but his people worked with her enough for him to know that she wasn’t bullshitting them.

“Z a straight-shooter, she ain’t lie about somethin’ like ‘dis,” he offered. “It’s risky business, but I ‘tink you call ‘dat girl back right now and we figure out a way to help her.”

“That’s noble an’ all, but are we forgetting that this is probably the same person that called you back at your apartment, Amaya?” Andre scoffed. He crossed his arms and looked at Amaya.

This call was different, Amaya knew. She hadn’t even listened to the first message, just deleted it right away because the number was unknown, the timing was conspicuous, and Alicia hadn’t scrubbed her permissions data yet. Now, though, having heard Z out, Amaya knew that this was the break she needed. “No, Andre, I haven’t forgottten, but did not you hear her? That wasn’t the voice of someone who was being forced to call - that was someone desperate for help and calling the only number they could think of at the time.” Andre shrugged his shoulders in a whatever you say, boss way, and that was that.

Allonz prepared the terminal to return the call, but turned to Amaya before dialing. “Listen, now, and listen to me well: do not think that this call is free of pig ears, heard? Might ‘tink ‘dis girl on the up, but ‘dat don’t mean she hasn’t fallen into a fresh trap, herself.” He pressed the button and dialed the terminal to make contact with Z.

Amaya was sure that Z wasn’t going to answer. It took several minutes before there was a response on the other side of the line, no video to the voice, but the raspy female voice came through with just enough clarity to communicate. The conversation was brief. Z answered the call and immediately went to work.

“My name is Z - I am survivor of the team that was murdered underneath Cirrus Prime. I know-” Z caught herself, “I knew your brother. He said to tell you what we learned.” Amaya heard a rapid inhale of breath from the other line, the sound someone makes when they place an antiseptic pad on a fresh wound, before the line dissipated to static. Z’s voice came back through the static, trembling now. “We need to speak in person - I cannot travel, you will have to come to me.” Each word was punctuated with fear, her voice barely more than a trembling whisper. Even without a promise of more information about Marcus, Amaya felt a compulsion to help this person.

“How do we get to you?” Amaya asked. She looked at Allonz, he shook his head once, sternly; We aren’t going anywhere, his face said.

“You have to come to Cirrus. It will be dangerous, but I can give you more information about Marcus and..” static broke the connection again for a second before Z returned. “…do something real; we can finish what Marcus started. I can’t say any more, I don’t know how safe our connection is. Rosewood, 120, 1428. Come to Cirrus, remember that, and you will find me.” The connection ended without any more discussion.

Well that’s that, I suppose, Amaya thought. Z sounded terrified, had promised more information about Marcus, had made a cryptic appeal to some sense of duty that she hoped Amaya would feel to complete Marcus’s work, and then gave a riddle for how to find her.

Andre broke the several minutes of following quiet. “Anyone else here a little confused?” He stood from his chair and stretched. “I mean, this person is supposed to be some underground asset with information that we need, but then we leave that call feeling less certain about how to find her than before we called?”

Allonz laughed. “You sure you did ‘da cabbie drivin’? How you not recognize what she told us as an address.” He clicked his tongue judgingly at Andre as he grabbed his own hand terminal. “Rosewood - that’s prolly a housing complex. 18 - that’s prolly ‘da level she be on. 1428 - that’s a hole number. She be tellin’ you where she at, not even that sneaky about it, to be true.” Allonz pulled up a schematic of Cirrus Prime on his terminal and found the exact location Z alluded to. “Yep, thar’ she be blowin’, Rosewood Project Housing, level 18 of Cirrus Prime. ‘Dat be where she want you ta’ go.”

Amaya was ecstatic now - not only did she have someone who could tell her more about Marcus, she had an address! She had a goal and she had direction. Now she needed to figure out how to get there. “That’s amazing, Allonz! Thank you!”

“Whoa now, ‘fore you get too ‘cited ‘bout ‘dis, let me tell you - I do not think you should go talk to Z. It ain’t that I don’t trust ‘da girl, it’s that we can’t be fa’sho that she ain’t been got, heard?”

“That’s what I’m sayin’, Amaya!” Andre added. “I get that the chick’s scared, but all she’s done is leave some crumbs for you to follow right into a welcomin’ party hosted by some right pissed Jurisdiction cops.”

Amaya frowned, confused why Allonz and Andre did not share her enthusiasm to meet with Z. “I don’t get it,” she said. “This is my best shot to get some information about Marcus - and Allonz, you heard her - things are happening on Cirrus. Sounds like things that could be of interest to you. I’m going to Cirrus Prime regardless of what either of you think.”

Now it was Andre’s turn to frown. “Amaya, I’ve gone with ya’ this far, but what you’re talkin’ about is some really deep shit.” He ran his hands through his hair again and held them atop his head briefly and sighed, like a sprinter recovering from a race. “You know I’m with you ‘til you finish this, but if it matters at all what I think, I vote we find another way to get answers about Marcus. A way that involves staying here, on Skyreach, and within reach of some support.”

“Andre’s right, babe,” Allonz added. Amaya cringed slightly at babe. She hadn’t liked anyone calling her that since a verbally abusive ex-girlfriend, Dana, had used that phrase excessively - especially during arguments. “Goin’ ova to Cirrus is some real dangerous plans. You - Amaya - are bein’ looked for!” He raised his voice now and brought his open palm down on the table rapid, making a muted smack. “You ain’t goin’ on no legal transport, either, less you’an wanna be in a detention cell in a couple hour. You goan to have ta sneak your way. I got people I can call over on Cirrus, let me help you wit dis, heard? You can stay here, I’ll get you some answers from my contacts ova Cirrus side. ‘Dis your home base to get some answers ‘bout Marcus.”

Amaya thought about the offer, but not for long. Allonz was generous, but her heart was made up - she was doing this herself. Finished a spectator, she thouht to herself. She was a player now. “That’s nice, Allonz, but I’m finished letting other folks put themselves at risk for me. I’ve got to do this for myself,” she paused, feeling suddenly overwhelmed. The weight of what she was needed to do now hung around her neck with ferocious weight. “More than that, I’ve got to do this for Marcus.” She remembered the way that Marcus had not looked back at her while being hauled away by the jurisdictional officers. Marcus had stared his destiny in the eye and walked courageously into it. Something inside Amaya told her that this was her moment to embrace her destiny.

Andre sighed. “Shit. Well, alright then.” He sat back back down at the desk and placed his arms out in front of him and rested his head on them, speaking to the floor. “How do we get to Cirrus, then?”

“You sure ‘bout ‘dis? There might be a few ways to get you ova’ there, but communication will be more difficult and there ain’t no Allonz’s place to go hide when the shit hits,” Allonz chuckled. Rummaging through his desk while he spoke, he now found what he was looking for and pulled a small scrap of paper, wrinkled and barely legible with age, from within the archives of his desk storage. “Dis right here my gol’en goose of a transport fixer. Shit really be hittin’ on Cirrus, ‘dis man’ll know. More important, ‘dis man’ll know a way to get you into that shit.”

Allonz set the scrap onto his desktop and smoothed it out with his hands. Amaya and Andre leaned over the desk to look at the scrap. “Don’t type non’a that down - take a pit’cher and look at it ‘dat way. Delete ‘dat pit’cher when you done finished your business with ‘dis man. His name Scratcher. I’ll call the man and see what he’s can do for you and tell him to s’pect a call from you, but that’s alls I can do. If he can help, you ‘gon need that info to make contact when it’s go time.”

“Time for what, exactly?” Andre asked grimly. He looked up now from his survey of the floor and rested his chin on his hands. Either the bud and breakfast had made him sleepy, he was still tired from the previous day, or he was realizing the depth he’d swam to and was uncomfortable. More likely, it was all three.

Allonz leaned back in his chair now and looked at both Amaya and Andre from top to bottom, his eyes squinting, like he was looking through a sun-glare. “Y’all sure ‘bout ‘dis?” He asked one more time. “Y’all unequipped as shit, and Scratcher ain’t goan give yous a ride for nuffin.” Allonz tapped rapidly onto his hand terminal for several minutes. When he finished, a young man, probably fresh out of school, probably didn’t go to school, Amaya realized, knocked on the office door and Allonz admitted him.

“Ready for ‘em,” the boy squeaked. He was just a teenager, but boasted a thicker beard than Andre’s and must have been close to six and half feet tall. He wore a black corpo-style dress suit and his wing tipped shoes sparkled with immaculate cleanliness and attention. He was young, but he’d learned how to take care of his wardrobe. Amaya felt like she could even learn something from the kid.

“What now?” Amaya asked, almost annoyed that there was still more talking to be done. She needed to go now - she needed to be on her way to Z and Cirrus now. “Can’t we just go talk to your Scratcher now?”

“Girl, you ain’t ‘dat dumb - I know it. I told you - Scratcher ain’t goan take you for nuffin. My boy Jaeden is going to take you to our gun room and make you all look more useful than you do right now. You go talk to Scratch lookin’ like ‘dis, he’s goan think I’m askin’ for charity.” Allonz rose from his desk and pushed his chair in with one hand and dimmed the office lights from a control switch on his desk with the other. “Now your adventure really begin, lady,” he said. It was too dim to be sure, but Amaya swore she noticed a proud smile escape Allonz’s lips for just a fraction of a second, like he was watching his daughter graduate. Amaya realized then that Allonz was proud - he was finally giving the fatherly support that Alicia must have shirked away from - the criminal kind.

“Now, as I said. My boy J here goan take you to our gun room and make you look like contributin’ members of society. Wish I could go with, but I’ve got some bid’ness waitin’ for me that I can no longer put off.” He crossed the office, but stopped when he was in between Amaya and Andre. He grabbed both of their shoulders with gentle, fatherly firmness. “You two are good kids, but you both steppin’ into somethin’ that cannot be unstepped, dig?” He looked deeply into each of their eyes as he spoke. His tone carried the energy of an interrogative, but his energy he shared with his touch and his gaze told them that the time for deciding was over. He wasn’t giving them one more chance to back out, now he was warning them that there would be consequences for failure.

Andre stood from his slumped posture in his chair to stand eye to eye with Allonz and placed his own hand onto Allonz’sshoulder. “Mr. Mosely, you been nothin’ but hospitable, and now you’re gonna’ help us even more, and I sure don’t want’chu thinkin’ we don’t appreicate it. I also don’t want you thinkin’ that we owe you somethin’ when this is all over, you know?”

To this Allonz released a belly laugh and doubled over in a fit of laughter, never releasing his grip on Andre and Amaya’s upper arms. Jaeden remained eerily still at the door, his hands crossed in front of him. Andre, worried that Allonz might tumble to the floor if he released his grip, raised an eyebrow at Amaya; we sure about this? Amaya nodded once; We have to be - it’s my only way. Allonz stood and wiped both eyes with the collar of his t-shirt, leaving marks where he’d soaked up his tears.

“You two is is associated with my Alicia so I ain’t goan do nothin’ to put y’all at any unnecessary risk. But you gotta’ know that you askin’ me to cash in some real clout for ya’. That ain’t goan come cheap, and you prolly gonna’ have to do a job to get where you goin. And I’ll be the first ta’ tell ya’ - you might not like the job that Scratch has for ya’, but if you wanna go to Cirrus, this is the way you gotta’ do it you go through me, heard?”Allonz gripped both of their arms one more time and then left the office to tend to his business. They could hear him chuckling down the hallway as Jaeden led them in the opposite direction. “Owe me somethin’? Lawds, that’s best one I heard in months…”

Jaeden led them down the hallway, their shoes clinking against the steel-mesh floor. The sweet smell of cultivating cannabis was quickly supplanted by a metallic, electrical smell. It had also grown noticeably darker, the dim red glow of security lighting was soon the only illumination they could rely on. Reaching a fork in the hallway, Jaeden turned them to them to the left where a large vault door occupied the width of the hall. He input a code into the terminal and the door hissed open, releasing a burst of cool, metallic air that carried the distinct scent of gun oil. Racks upon racks of weaponry gleamed under the dim red glow, each piece meticulously arranged. Andre’s breath hitched as his eyes traced the sheer variety: pistols, rifles, sleek plasma weapons—all waiting to be used.

“Holy mother of God,” Andre said faintly.

For the first time, Jaeden showed an emotion; he smiled. “Welcome to the gun room.”