Chapter 9

“What the hell do you spray in here, Cadell?” Dumol asked, glancing around his tiny place. Tucked inside the inner ring of the temperate tower, he had the cheapest little suite possible, though calling it a suite made it sound like a palace.

It was mostly a room with a bed, a waste disposal area, a place to wash off, and a small kitchenette to prepare food. Most everything—food wise, though—had to be purchased in the city. Or bought, if one had access, directly from the farms.

Cadell had access.

So, his apartment smelled like fruit, because he regularly bought fresh fruit to eat, a luxury that he’d never had during the war.

“It’s fruit,” he said, picking up a banana. “Want one?”

She shook her head. “We have a problem.”

He raised his eyebrow. “We don’t have anything. You have a problem and I have to fix it. Is that more accurate?”

She gestured between the two of them. “We do. Mission has been compromised.”

Cadell grimaced about what was coming. Certain it wouldn’t be pretty, but he knew it. It was why he was here. Rather, why Human First wanted him here. After all, he was the clean-up guy. The Butcher of Nova Wars never left any survivors.

So his reputation said.

“You’re not my mission,” he said.

She raised her eyebrow. “Turow-Four-Seven-Sixty-Three-Alpha—”

“Enough,” he snarled and glared at her, squeezing the banana in his hand, turning it into mush.

Why the hell did she know that pass code? If she knew those codes, she knew the Human First activation code he’d been sent in with. Which meant she was his Human First contact.

Fucking-bloody-stupid-hell.

He gritted his teeth as he washed off at his sink. Maybe he should have asked who he’d be working for before he took the job.

“Now, are you ready to work,” she asked, hands on her hips.

“Do the job,” he muttered.

“Good.”

“So how did you fuck this up? Weren’t you supposed to be selling contraband back to the residents? You shouldn’t need me. Not for that.” He was support. If all else failed, send him in. He’d wipe out all the targets. No questions asked.

So why the hell did Dumol need him for some contraband racket? What was she up to?

“Contraband is not my objective.”

“So what is?”

“Need to know.”

“Kinda think I need to now.”

“Not really.” Dumol held up a hologram of a woman bound in a chair, head bobbed over to the side, body limp.

He recognized the structure’s design. It was one of the storage lockers in his farming zone.

“Who is that?” he asked.

“Your problem now.”

A shiver ran through him. “No.”

“Excuse me?”

“Put her in jail if she’s a problem, that’s what you do, right? Imprison people who don’t agree with you?” And then, this wasn’t about the woman in the storage locker. This became much more personal to Cadell.

Men like him weren’t born. They were made.

In labs.

Reprogrammed and reimagined of what a great soldier could be. And Cadell became just that. A great soldier.

A walking nightmare for the Novian.

Whether he wanted to or not.

“Fuck you, Cadell. It was war.”

“It was wrong.” He clenched his fists. Heard the mechanical parts under his skin hiss and groan. Felt the ache between the parts of him that met the mechanical. And he would continue to feel it. For the rest of his existence.

“Was it?” she glared at him. “You seem to be okay.”

“No thanks to you.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t want to do this,” she said.

“What? Put some woman in a locker?”

“Any of it.” She ran her hand over her brow. “Look, I just need to you to watch over her for a few days while I set up a situation.”

“If it’s that big of a deal, why don’t you just kill her?”

“If I kill her without probable reason, then I’m compromised. I have to make this look like she died on a flyer or something.”

“Really? That’s the best accident you got?”

She shrugged. “She’s Novian. Wouldn’t be hard to set up a flying accident.”

“She’s a flyer?” He’d seen a few of those in the battles, nightmares in the sky swirling around and fighting, and when they landed? They looked like death coming to take you.

“This one’s grounded. No wings. Won’t be much to create an accident for her, reliving her old days.”

“That’s fucked up.”

Dumol shrugged. “Take care of her for a few days while I get everything ready.”

He nodded and Dumol handed him a passcode to the shed she’d stashed the Novian in.

Cadell’s stomach turned.

Fuck.