Page 56 of Spark Transform

They skirted a three-by-ten-meter container marked as “tech salvage,” then swerved to pass a pallet of sealed, unlabeled crates.

Another small swarm of tiny camera eyes swooped overhead, then circled higher several meters to hover like a cloud of bioluminescent gnats.

Brenner glared up at them and growled. They all glowed brighter for a moment, then dropped like heavy rain instead of high-end cameras.

Suspicion crept into Arco’s mind. “Call me paranoid, but I think one of us might be geotagged. Three different flights of cameras finding us instead of the giant, news-trending rogue spider mech is stretching chance too thin.”

He long-stepped over a muddy puddle. “Nothing on my scan.”

She couldn’t tell if he meant the tech scanners the team regularly used or his hidden talent. “High-end tags are micro-powered arrays designed to be undetectable in standard scans. You’d have to catch them when they’re broadcasting or being directly narrow-pinged. Otherwise, they read as metal decoration.”

“Fuck.” He stopped and turned to look at her. “We can’t go home.”

The rhythmic thuds sounded louder than ever. She glanced uneasily toward the street. “Maybe we should have Minan come get us?”

Minan’s tone beeped in the earwire. “No can do. The military just interdicted the whole district. If you are tagged, it had to have happened after we were evicted from the opening gala. Otherwise, their super-scanners would have caught it. If anything you’re wearing now is the same as this afternoon, dump it.”

Arco didn’t hesitate. She unsealed her coat, then pulled her folded display from the big inner pocket and stuffed it into the waistband of her pants. It dug into her belly as she shrugged out of the coat.

Brenner grabbed it from her and balled it up with his, then ran back to the tech bin and tossed them in.

She pulled her flexin tunic open and shrugged it off fast before the drizzle glued it to her skin. She let it drop in the mud puddle, then stomped it flat. Thank the universe that boots and pants had been too functional to wear to a gala, or she’d be running through a construction site in nothing but flexin long underwear and a half-tank bra.

Brenner threw his flexin tunic in the mud beside hers, then slid his utility vest back on.

The rhythmic thuds became louder and more distinct, almost syncopated.

Brenner started westward, toward a dark melt-glass hopper. Steam clouded around it from its residual heat.

She sped up into a trot to keep the bone-chilling cold at bay for a bit. “Riverfront, or south?”

He caught up with her. “Minan, where are the public transport sta—”

A tremendous, ear-bleeding screech of metal dragging on road glass arose north of them.

Her brief glance behind them at the reflection from the opposite building’s windows told her all she needed to know.

A monstrously huge spider mech, lit up like an amateur winter solstice display, marched down the street they’d just left. Its two dead legs dragged an array of debris — decorative awnings, chained benches, pedestrian bridge railings. The spider slowed.

She and Brenner dodged around the blessedly warm hopper and ran straight into a dead end made by a newly poured glass wall. They ran back around the hopper and headed north.

The spider ground to a halt on the street. Its top spotlights blazed brighter, illuminating the ground, buildings, and the sparkling, wet sky.

Brenner ran up a stack of collapsed crates, then turned to pull her up and help fling her over to the other side. “What weapons does a spider have?”

Tōn Ko’s voice came over the earwire. “Can’t tell. Newscasters said this one is a Model Zed -something, Mark E, for experimental. No attack weapons, supposedly, but defenses and full-spectra scanners. Motion, heat, tech, fuel residue, biomass, you name it.”

Arco snorted. “It doesn’t need attack weapons. It’s got feet.”

She rounded a three-meter-high container and had to stop. Brenner bumped her but grabbed her shoulders to pull her back. An exposed subterranean level was now an inky lake, surrounded by high walls.

Turning, he pointed back the way they came. She followed. Tiny ice pebbles were interspersed with the drizzle.

Her earwire squealed a deafening tone. She scraped it off her jaw, stumbling in pain as she stuffed it in her pocket. Military jammers didn’t play around.

Just as they crested the top of the stack of crates, the spider took three giant steps into the site. One foot landed in the hot tech recycling bin and split it open.

Two tentacle arms arrowed down from the control head and plunged into the spilled contents.