SynTracker | ONC 2021 | MM Romance | Sci-Fi | Complete

Ten: Saturday

Dawn was breaking when Ian returned home. He'd gone through narrow streets and back alleys, a hood pulled over his face, head down, doing his best to blend in with the shadows. None of that would stop decent face recognition from spotting him, and leaving his nexus home had been as much of a tell as taking it with him, but his visit to Wave Plaza had paid off.

He now had an anonymous nexus; one that didn't require a linked account to function and that would capture no image on his side. Both his browsing and his infantile attempts at hacking would be private.

SynSec would be watching, wondering if Ian would be a proper lapdog or a rabid one that needed to be put down, but his people would find nothing except what he wanted them to see. Was that what they'd done to Kaya? Murdered her for refusing to hunt people? That would be much more in line with who she'd been than her turning into a willing slaver.

'It genuinely grieved me to hear of her passing.'

He clenched his jaw. One problem at a time. First, he needed to do the right thing. He couldn't kidnap a person and keep her in his garage for the crime of not helping him; that would make him no better than the worst kind of Tracker.

Then he needed to figure out how to find Quentin, to get him to safety. Ian didn't yet know how he could begin trying to atone for twenty years on the wrong side after that, but he'd find a way. He'd dedicate the rest of his life to it. It would never be enough, but he'd keep at it. Finding out the truth about Kaya, as much as she'd been like a sister to him, was at the bottom of the list. The truth wouldn't help her now, and a part of him would prefer not knowing, on the remote chance SynSec hadn't been lying.

Ian studied Ulla's manual with the garage lights on, the sky outside too heavy with clouds for sunlight to stream in, until his vision swam and his head felt close to bursting. He could see the placement of her tracking chip in the diagram, but it wasn't as easy to get to as in older models. As in Quentin. He'd had some practice with removing tracking chips while in school, decades before, even if the objective then had been replacement, not removal, but it had always been in models like Quentin's.

They'd allowed high school students to practise on people for career day, he realised with disgust. Before they'd decided Trackers didn't need training and only had to be good at pressing the trigger.

The knowledge would serve him now, even if it wouldn't serve Ulla. He wouldn't risk damaging parts of her he couldn't understand.

Turning her pain sensors back to normal sensitivity was the most distasteful thing in the process of freeing her, but he couldn't leave them off; BioSynths, like humans, required pain as an alert mechanism. A necessary evil of being alive.

This time, he didn't restrain her. He left a card with all the credits he could spare on the desk, a bottle of water, some protein bars — he doubted she'd eat or drink anything he gave her any more than he'd accepted the Secretary's drink, but it wouldn't be for lack of offering — and a warm jacket with a hoodie. The garage door open, Ian turned her switch on, stood in front of her with his back to the wall, Nuller pointed at her chest, and waited. Ten seconds later, her eyes opened. It didn't take her long to appraise the situation.

"What now, Tracker? We play catch and release, then catch again?" Her lips twisted in contempt, but that wasn't the primary emotion behind her eyes. She was afraid. In front of him stood a being capable of covering three blocks in nuclear radiation, now that she was unbound, but she was afraid of him. Because she chose not to destroy innocent lives. How many had he destroyed over twenty years?

"No. Release only. The Nuller is so you won't attack me." He jerked his head towards the desk. "There's food, clothes, and credits. Even if you take nothing else, you know the credits are traceless. Take the card." Her eyes widened. "I asked them for another week to Track you, yesterday, and they agreed, but I can't be sure it's real. I think they're onto me as well. If you can get the tracking chip out, I suggest you do. Or find somewhere to lie low."