Reid nodded.
“We want to do what we can to help with Santino, for Clara, it’s personal,” Marsha added, her eyes growing harder by the second. “I hate men, no offense. Scum of the Earth.”
“None taken.” Reid tapped his finger on his lapel, over his gun. “I hate Trentians. We all hate something.”
Marsha mumbled in agreement.
He didn’t come here to talk to the women, which they understood when he cleared his throat and things went into an awkward territory. He pulled back his sleeve and projected the screen from his tablet from his wrist, the skin on his arm peeling back. The contents filled the space before the two women.
“You’re not pregnant.”
There was a moment of silence before a horribly stiff exhale passed between Marsha and Natalie. The screen changed to project what medical had uncovered: the inside of Natalie’s womb, the obvious health of her reproductive organs and an untouched egg from ovulation. The beginning signs of her next menstrual cycle on the horizon.
“You’ll have your monthly within the next few days,” He tossed a small vial through the projection to land next to Natalie on the bed. “For your cramps.”
“T-thank you.” The quickening smell of tears made his nose twitch but they never formed in the woman’s eyes, and they never fell.
“You’re welcome.”
Marsha sighed, saving him from any more emotion, and his projection dropped, his sleeve back in place. “What now?”
“We kill Santino.”
“Thank fucking god. What needs to be done?”
***
SEVERAL HOURS LATER, he waited outside the Dallas city limits, standing in the shadows of a slum that was long-ago abandoned. Graffiti graced every wall and surface around him, and what wasn’t covered had been corroded with rust on top of rust or crumbled with deterioration where old metal met stone.
The shadows were long and thick in the ancient cities, where only miscreants and the occasional vandal lived, but they were otherwise deserted, taken over by wisps of the past. The old world only held glimpses of what it used to be. It made Reid fidget. Being amongst rotting metal, it made him feel itchy, as if he stood amongst the corrosion long enough, it would take him with it.
He deleted the thoughts that arose in his head and sniffed the air. Even the air here barely held the hint of human inhabitation. Places like this reminded him of how few humans were left, how fewer females still. And even fewer Trentians.
The wait continued and his thoughts roamed. Clara told him how it was impossible to leave Earth because of her medical issues and the debt that arose from them. But it was impossible regardless. Women were detained every which way from going off planet; fertile ones being stranded was no secret the government held. It was harsh, trapped on a sad world.
Commercial cruises and vacations were one thing. Those were allowed to all sexes equally. Women could leave with regulation, knowing that they were forced to return. Women could also leave if it was for an Earthian regulated job—usually contracted for a span of time and impossible to back out of, but a single female, even those attached to families, whether through marriage or blood, had to jump through endless hoops to get off-world.
If a woman wanted to move to Gliese, to Kepler, or to one of the other space stations floating about and wasn’t contracted into a governmental position or corporation (one that could pay the fees), it was impossible. If a woman was caught fleeing, it was treason. If a man was caught smuggling women off-world, it was a life sentence on a mining rig or prison planet. If a woman was caught smuggling other women off Earth, well, it was treason and a life sentence.
The news was paid to scare them to stay.
Clara was stuck on Earth. Reid caressed the handle of his gun in thought.
Laws were currently being pushed through to demand all space-born children to travel back to Earth for their education.A trap.The technology to create babies from vats was used extensively, but not enough to counteract a century of war.
Even now, female children were being hidden away and raised as boys. Every day the noose tightened because the control slipped a little further away from those in charge.
His systems picked up movement. Marsha was in position with Natalie who was made to look like Clara as bait. The two of them waited at the drop-off point, but time continued to pass and no one showed.
If Santino took the bait, life would be easier, if he didn’t—and Reid knew the criminal wasn’t any other testosterone-fueled imbecile—they’d have to move on to plan B.
Plan B was both lot messier and wouldn’t give Marsha and Natalie the delicious satisfaction of revenge.
He cracked his neck and shifted his canines back and forth, into and out of his gums. Another signal coursed through his sensors, stopping him mid-shift.
Reid brought the intrusion forward, a message, private and secured to all hell-and-back presented itself; it was encrypted and sent directly to his IP address, the type of network message that skipped the normal servers and channels of regular correspondence.
Which meant it was Cyborg mail.
