Dragonfly by Erica Hayes Page A

admit he impressed me. He worked swiftly, confidently, without pause, not a bead of sweat on his smooth face.
    I craned my neck, resting my hand on his shoulder, trying to see what he was taking. “What good is that?” I asked as he copied yott after gibberish yott. “It’s still encrypted.”
    “What do you care?” he retorted, his eyes on the display. “Numbers, please.”
    Quickly I scanned the shifting data column. “Fifteen three. Volts are dropping quickly. Get on with it.”
    “Patience.” He flipped through a couple more screens, pushing his hair from his eyes.
    “Fourteen.” I glanced at the sweating neuroconsole, my pulse urgent even though I knew what would happen. “Thirteen. They’ll be onto us. Time to go.”
    On the console, a bio-diode flickered blue, and another, and another. I couldn’t hear the alarms, but I didn’t need to. “That’s it. It’s awake.”
    “Too bad for them. I’m done.” Dragonfly crunched the cube closed, shutting the display off, and shoved it into his pocket. “It’s been fun, nice knowing you, all that. See you around.”
    He reached for the golden hyperchip, but I got there before him and pulled it from the slot with a sharp pop.
    His gaze hardened like glass, reflecting the flashing diodes, and he took a step toward me. “We don’t have time for this. Give it to me.”
    Scarlet security lights snapped on in the corridor, and in the distance above someone shouted.
    The chip felt warm in my fingers, and I gripped it tightly. “I can’t do that.”
    “Give.” He flashed out his hand to grab my wrist.
    He was quick. But I was quicker. My shatterjay dug into the pulse in his throat.
    He swallowed, and slowly let me go, holding his hands away. Now sweat gleamed on his face. “What do you want?”
    His body was tense, hard, only a whisper away, but I didn’t have time to think about that now. I slipped the chip down the front of my shorts into my underwear—he’d die before he got his hand down there—and jabbed the shatterjay in tighter. Feeling him squirm heated my skin, my damp hair sticking to my neck. “You’ll take me with you.”
    He laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    “No way. I was doing fine until you got here. Thanks to you, my exit strategy is toast. We go together or we don’t go at all.”
    He looked ready to argue, but the crack and sizzle of the laser security grid recharging overhead must have changed his mind. Nikita couldn’t have timed the recharge more perfectly.
    Dragonfly spun around with no regard for my weapon and pulled his own, a short-range plasma pistol. “ Está bien. Are you any good with that thing?”
    I switched the jay to projectile mode and took cover beside the hatchway. “Want to wait here to find out?”
    “No.” He gripped his pistol two-handed and led with it into the corridor, poking his head out to clear to the right. He moved smoothly and efficiently, without wasted motion. “Come on. We’ll finish this conversation later.”
    “Whatever you say.”
    I slipped out behind him and cleared the left. Green neuroplasma glimmered in hardened plastic conduits beneath the white mesh under my feet. Dragonfly put a burning red shot into the krypton light overhead. It arced and melted in a shower of purple sparks, leaving us in near darkness, and we were on our way, me in the lead, stepping lightly but quickly through a sharp ozone haze.
    The security matrix had activated when the neurospace awoke, but we were in the deepest of two neurolevels and the response hadn’t made it down to us yet. As we danced along the steaming corridor, our weapons covering alcoves and corners, violet sparks raining from the burning lights, the thrill of pursuit quickened my pulse, my skin alive with excitement. I smiled to myself. Nikita had been right, as usual. Explosives and poison were out, because they’d harm the neural circuits. Esperanza’s security was limited to good old-fashioned guys with guns, and they’d