Chapter 6
1
Zima hadn't cried since... ever. She had never cared about anyone that much before. And she didn't just cry, she heaved. Standing over the basin and not bothering to use the blunt side of her nails to wipe away the discharge from her eyes.
Get a grip.
Not even her own mother's death had given her this sort of reaction. Zima heard of her passing years after it had happened, and by then it was too late for tears. Mother was too busy caring for her thousands of other sister's to give a shit about how Zima was doing.
There last encounter had ended in a fight. Zima had been scared, angry, confused. A little like right now. She didn't remember why they'd argued, only that it was stupid. She took it all out on her own mother and had stormed away. Mother didn't even call her back before she'd walked out of her life, because she didn't care about Zima, she couldn't have. After all, Zima was one of thousands of daughters, and mother made it pretty clear that Zima was the 'irresponsible daughter attracting the wrong kind of company', in her mothers own words.
But the way mother's face had dropped, when Zima had last seen her. She had looked so sad… maybe, just maybe, there was some degree of care there. But if there was she sure did have an odd way of showing it when she was living.
Stop it.
By force of will, Zima did. She had enough on her plate to let the past come back and taunt her. Gunshots boomed in the distance. Amber balls of light glowed towards the east, casting half the night in a red glow. So much had happened in such a short time her mind couldn't keep up with it. What if one of those gunshots was aimed at Daniel? What if his body was cooking in one of those fires right now? Was he dead already? How could he do this to her?
Snap out of it!
She slapped herself across the face, hard. She was paranoid, but fa from stupid. Daniel had been doing this for a lot longer than she had. He knew the city well, knew his way around a gun even more. He could take care of himself. But that sure as hell did nothing to calm her while she was stuck in his room all by herself.
She turned the faucet on, wet her hands, and splashed her face. She'd seen Daniel do this particular ritual sometimes when he thought she wasn't around. Strange and alien, like Daniel himself, but it helped a little to soothe her quivering nerves, but not much.
She angled her head up, staring at her reflection. Puffy eyes, wet cheeks, one of which was red with claw marks, little rings of iritated scrin from where she'd literally scratched the tears away. It was like she was a stupid little hatchling again, trying to keep her emotions in check. She remembered being so petty when she was little, that was mostly because of her mother who acted like she never even existed sometimes. Trying to goad any reaction from mother had only resulted in embarrassment, so naturally, she'd divided herself from her mum, even her own kind, purely out of spite. Then when she'd met Daniel, spite turned to innocent fascination, mixed with a few fantasies she'd never speak of out loud.
Bzzzttt
Her eyes slit into daggers as she heard the sound, wheeling around and dropping her hand to her waist, where she kept her gun. Unfortunately, she'd left her weapon on the bed, in the main room. Foolish, given what's happening, but she supposed she been a pretty big fool most of her life.
The sound had come from the desk. Zima came out of the en suite, snapping herself into the present, tasting the cold air with her tongue. Daniel's phone was on. There were two words written across the screen.
Asshole Boss
Dispatch, she thought, and her face lightened for a moment with a distant grin. The phone buzzed one more time as she crossed the room, picked up and holstered her gun, and peeked out the window. It had been a few hours since Daniel had left. He should have been back by now.
She picked up the phone and held it in front of her snout. She'd been offered her own phone ages ago, but her nails got in the way when she typed, and the screen was so small it made her eyes water. How anyone could stare at these things all day was beyond her.
She went to swipe over the answer button, but not before inhaling sharply and forcing away her prior emotions. Normally Daniel was the one to talk to Dispatch, another reasons she'd denied getting her own phone. Zima was ashamed to admit that she'd never felt so much anxiety swell up in her breast in her life at that moment. Even more than Daniel's departure, or her mothers. What kind of messed up person was she?
She swiped the green answer button with a click of a nail, and brought the phone to one of her ear holes. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. A moment passed, and the man on the other end spoke. "… Forty nine? You there?"
"I…" Zima swallowed a lump in her throat. "No, sir. This is twenty two. Dan…. Forty nine, is a little busy right now."
"Yes, I can see your vehicle has moved close to the Stacks district. You are not to go any closer to that quadrant, do you understand? Hostile forces are there in force, and I cannot afford to lose the two of you in these times."
Zima blinked at those last three words. He doesn't care about us, Daniel's voice spoke in her head. She ignored it. Dispatch did care. He wouldn't have just told her not to go towards the enemy if he didn't care for there lives!
… Right?
"Rest assured this rebellion will be dealt with within the day." Dispatch cleared his throat, his voice level. Zima's was the exact opposite of 'level'.
"R-Rebellion?" Zima glanced out the window. It looked like a war out there. A war way too close to home.
"Indeed. Dissident's have been cropping up around that area lately. Somehow they've gotten there hands on a few heavy weapons, but operations will continue as per normal. Do you understand?"
Zima nodded, realised that she was on a phone, mentally slapped herself, and said, "Yes."
"Excellent. I have a contact waiting for you down by the docks, I'll message you the exact location. Play as the muscle on this one, and do what he says. Can you make sure forty nine gets these instructions?"
"Oh, I... Yes, sir. I'll let him know."
"Not good enough. Repeat it back to me."
Zima almost went to retort, but bit her lip and stopped herself. There was no telling the consequences of what Dispatch could do if she snapped back. She repeated the instructions back, word for word. Dispatch's hummed in approval.
"That will be all. Best hurry if you want to get to the meeting point in time." Dispatch went to hang up, but Zima blurted out before he could.
"-Wait!"
"… Is there something else, Agent?"
There were hundreds of other things, and she desperately needed, wanted, answers to them all. Here was her chance. And yet for all the good it would do to her state of mind, she couldn't even force out a single question. She clicked her tongue and shook her head. "No, sir. Nothing else."
Dispatch hung up, and the words Asshole Boss dimmed on the screen. A few moments later she got a text of the location of this new meeting point. She didn't expect Daniel to come back – in time. Sobbing inside his apartment had been driving her crazy, but going out on an assignment on her own was definitely a far worse alternative. She'd have to pray that Dispatch didn't find out about Daniel's absence on this new task.
Or else, they might just both wind up dead. Rebellion or war or otherwise. She considered going through Daniel's text messages, but decided it would pain her too much, lest she find something further implicating him as a dissident. Respecting his privacy was only considered later, she was sad to admit.
She pulled on her winter gear and headed for the door.
2
Just like crying, Zima had never been on a solo mission. Not since coming to City 31, at least. But navigating the city streets somehow felt worse than any of her scouting tasks back in the army. Back then she'd had a whole platoon to fall back on if she ran into trouble. In this place, Advent was practically sticking to the shadows, and the only one she trusted was across the city, right in that warzone over there.
The fact that Dispatch had called it a rebellion that would be dealt with soon without so much as a crack in his voice, only served to cement her fear. The war had never come to a city-centre, not on this scale. A bombing here, a destroyed clinic there, those had been heard ofbut the whole district was ablaze. And all that machine gun fire did not sound like a few heavy weapons.
But why would Dispatch lie? She couldn't understand it. Advent was for the good of everyone. Why keep them in the dark, and play the situation down?
Or maybe, Dispatch wasn't lying. It was just a small rebellion. Advent had the resources to put down any infighting. Advent had the whole planet under there thumb. No amount of terrorists could hope to stop them or the Elders.
She passed through eerily quiet streets, the air broken only by the occasional sonic boom of what sounded like a report of a canon. A few groups of humans and hybrids huddle here and there, looking out across the river at the fighting. Zima eyed them suspiciously as she walked by. There was no telling where the citizens loyalties lay anymore. Any one of them could have helped with the attack.
Even Daniel…
No. She knew Daniel. At least, she thought she did. She felt horrible for casting him into suspicion, but she couldn't help it. She vowed that if she saw him – when she saw him – she'd convince him that Advent was the right path. Maybe it wasn't too late to stop him from turning, and all things might be forgiven in the end. A bit of explaining and the Elder's might just understand.
After a half hour's walk she came to the rendezvous point, checking her phone for directions every now and then. The smell of salt soughed through the air. Several dozen canoes and speedboats and other aquatic craft were lined up across crisscrossing wooden piers. The waves lapping up against the oak pillars gave the docks a serene atmosphere, at least by Old Town standards. The backdrop was a red ball of destruction, the Stack's slowly being consumed in a violent blaze. Zima stared out there for a while, her face slowly dropping each time a hail of gunfire erupted, and she imaged those bullets were aimed at her friend.
"What's with the long face?"
Zima almost slammed her fist into Conner when he'd somehow sneaked up on her and tapped her on the shoulder, stopping her hand only an inch before Conner's face when she recognised him. Even Spike was there, his heavy combat boots making huge clicks on the concrete as the hybrid strode over. Zima uncurled her fist and let it fall to her side, not apologising. "If I knew you were my contact I might not have showed up," she grumbled.
"Ah, you don't mean that." Conner came up to her side, looked out at the Stacks with her. "Crazy stuff's going down over there. You shouldn't be so surprised. Advent's presence has been steadily depleting over the past year. Funnelling out troops to support the front-lines. It was only a matter of time until something like this happened."
"What are we doing here, Conner? Another bomb need transport?"
"Figured that out, did you? Thanks to us four, the Resistance will have a hard time getting a foothold over there. Speaking of four, where's your little human pet? Or are you the pet, hmm?"
Zima turned on Conner, raising her height a little so she towered over him (more than she already did). She sensed Spike fiddle with his weapon, but Conner waved him down. Zima jabbed a finger on the Sectoid's chest. "You didn't tell us that it was a bomb. Why?"
"I was under orders to say nothing. I did give you dog's plenty of hints, so you can't say I didn't try. Besides, you wouldn't have done anything even if you knew what you were doing. Advent's leash is pretty tight, especially on their spies, or Agents, if you prefer."
I wouldn't have done anything, Zima mentally admitted. She loathed Conner's dog and leash metaphor, but hated how close to the truth it was. She backed off and Conner smirked. It was a smirk she wanted to desperately smack.
"If you're done with your little hissy-fit, you going to answer my question? Where's your human?"
"He's… busy." Her eyes darted to the Stacks, she couldn't help it. Conner, unfortunately, saw this little movement, looked at the district, then back to her. His face formed into an expression that said: 'Busy'? Please. But he didn't choose to pry further.
"Well, we will be outnumbered, but we can deal with that when the time comes. Walk with me, dog. I'll explain on the way."
Spike leading, Conner and Zima walked and slithered down to the docks. Truth was she wasn't at all interested in what tonight's event was about, but Conner explained anyway. "We'll be meeting with some Muton's to exchange some equipment and data. Don't give me that look, there'll be no bombs this time."
Hearing the word Muton's,she had done a double-take on Conner. Daniel might have found it funny if her were there. Conner smirked at her reaction. "Not a fan of Muton's?"
"I fucking hate Muton's."
"That's a little racist, wouldn't you say?"
"I also hate Sectoids, just as equally. So no, I wouldn't say it is."
"My kind too? Why, because I can read your mind?"
"Because you talk too much."
"It's not like I can ask my enemies for consent when my psionics kick in. Sometimes I can't help it."
"And sometimes I can't help spitting venom when I talk." Saying this, Zima had done exactly that. Conner ducked out of the way at the last moment. The glob of poison hit the deck behind him and sizzled through the wood.
Conner caught up to her as if nothing had happened. The Sectoid closed his eyes, and a little grimace painted his alien features. A little plume of purple energy sifted out of his cranium almost imperceptibly. Telltale sign of psionics at work. "You don't act like this around everyone, do you? No… No, not with the humans. You're pleasant company once you open up, but you don't open up to anyone… Except for one particular person..."
"Can you read my mind beyond the grave? I'd like to help you find out if you want."
"I don't need to read one's mind to see that they're infatuated with someone. Or when they're about to lamp me on the snout."
Zima was halfway through doing exactly that when she stopped herself. Zima couldn't touch him and Conner knew it, and this only made her angry at herself even more.
Spike stopped at a boathouse, and here the three of them waited. One pier jutted off further into the lake from one side, barnacles coating the two support pillars. Here she paced, as silent as Spike whenever Conner tried to initiate small talk with her. Apparently, Conner took an interest in con-artistry ('Procuring goods at reduced prices' Conner called it) after being separated from the Network. And here Zima took an interest in him at last.
"What do you mean, 'separated from the Network'? That's impossible."
"Says who? Your boss? Of course he would. I wouldn't tell Spike here I was giving him a good cut of our sales if I wasn't. Er, not that I am, Spike."
Spike huffed and went back to doting on his gun, not to bothered by the whole prospect all that much. There was a certain aroma around the hybrid that told Zima Spike didn't much care about anything. She could respect a lack of attachment to anything. She'd been much the same in the past: a simple, lonely solider that faded into the thousands of other expendables.
"How did you detach from the Network?" she murmured. If Conner had ears they would have perked up in interest.
"If I told you that, one of us would die. Advent could be listening to us right now, it's hard to say nowadays, given all that's happened. Best be on the safe side and keep my mouth shut."
She edged around the question. "So it's not impossible?"
"You can do anything if you put your mind to it. As long as you have enough money and power, that is. Is that vague enough for you?"
Zima remembered Ramos' final words. Maybe there was some hint of truth to them. Damn it, she was thinking like a damned dissident! Even her own mother told her the Network was a powerful, unbreakable gift. She wouldn't be half the woman she was now without its power. What did some loud-mouthed Sectoid know about anything like that?
Her brooding was interrupted by the sound of a boat engine. Out to the north a patrol craft was sailing towards the pier. Conner had been sitting on a crate nearby, and when he saw the boat he got up. "That's them. Shut your mouths and look tough. I'll do the rest."
The Sectoid went and stood out on the middle of the pier. Spike took up position on his left flank, Zima his right. The incoming craft looked almost large enough to be considered a frigate. Probably to accommodate the Muton's stocky bodies, Zima reckoned. On the bow of the ship was a canon, piloted by a bulky Muton. She could see the dark silhouettes of three more Muton's standing on the deck, six glowing eyes bright in the night. Zima patted the shape of her gun in her waistband to steady her thoughts.
The ship pulled alongside the pier, bringing along a wave that lapped up against the supports, making them creak. Zima blinked as a ramp lowered from the deck and the three Muton's disembarked. Each one was pink-skinned, and clad in green combat armour. She could smell their dirty aromas through the salty air and it hadn't even been a minute. She eyed the fourth one, on the canon up and to her left. It grumbled back at her and swivelled the canon to try and intimidate her. She thought about calling up to it and asking if it was compensating for something, but decided to follow Conner's instructions.
The Muton's on the pier stopped a few paces from Conner. One of them, the leader no doubt, came forward. His armour was a slightly duller shade of slate. He removed his respirator from his stubby snout, and stared at the Sectoid for a moment. "You are Conner?" he grumbled after a pause.
"Yessiree Bob. Hand over the cargo and we all go our separate ways."
"That was not the deal." The Muton, who easily doubled Conner's height, stepped forward and pointed. "Data first, that's what we agreed on."
"I can always take my goods and walk away. Your organisation's screwed without my help. It's my way or the high way, as the saying goes."
"Fine." The Muton nodded to one of his subordinates, who turned and walked back onto the ship. "Half now. Half when you give me what I want."
Conner put his hands on his hips and mocked annoyance. "Now come on! You don't need me to tell you that I have the backing of Advent on this deal, do I?"
"No, you don't." The Muton' beady eyes scanned all over Zima's body, making her feel sick. "I can see they spared no expense in your protection. One Viper? Hmph. Please."
"Listen to the Sectoid, Mutie, or we'll see how long you can breathe with a lungful of poison." Zima let her tongue slip out to prove her point.
"Empty threats from an empty girl. Try living for yourself one day instead of living for the regime, you might even enjoy it."
Before Zima could retort, the subordinate came back, holding a crate in one arm that would have taken two of her to carry. The Muton set it down halfway between the two main dealers, and slid back the lid. Conner walked cautiously towards it. Zima trailed behind him, keeping an eye on the Muton on the canon and tasting the air for any hint of hostility.
She peaked around Conner's slim arm at the crate's contents.
Guns. A whole pile of guns, ammo, grenades, enough to arm a whole platoon. An impressive enough display to make someone whistle in awe.
That someone wasn't Conner, however. "Where's the rest?" he snapped.
Rest? she thought. This looked like more than enough for any force. The Muton held out a hand and grumbled: "Data first."
"Alright, fine. Here."
Conner walked slowly across the pier, fishing out something from his back pocket. She went to follow after but Spike raised a hand to ward her away and keep her distance. Much as she despised Conner, she hated this situation even more, and wouldn't be the one to flare up any sort of aggression. She hanged back.
Conner produced a PDA. The lead Muton snatched it away and scrolled through the blocks of data. It had to have been very important to trade for an army's worth of weaponry. Maybe its data on Advent…
"As you can see." Conner waved a flamboyant hand. "Everything's all in order."
"Seems that way." The Muton huffed. "Fine. Get them the rest."
Another crate was packed off the ship. Again, it was chocked full of weapons and armour. Ballistics and magnetics and plasma mingled into a wide selection of canons and rifles. Why Advent would need this she had no idea. Manufacturing for the regime was worldwide, trade routes both on the planet and in its orbit. Unless the resistance had cut off everything, there was no need to sell data for weapons from these Mutons, who were not affiliated. A rogue cell, maybe? That kind of activity only happened during the first days of the occupation, or the battles that came before Earth.
We are losing, a part of her mind told her. Trading with rogue Muton's was so low, not even the scummiest, most depleted force would be willing to do what was happening now. Even the resistance wouldn't stoop to this level of desperation.
Conner motioned for her and Spike to help him with the crates. When they came over, the Muton's turned back to there ship with a final glance. Daniel would have called that look stink-eye.
She flicked her tongue at them and helped Conner. "What was on that PDA you gave them?"
"Oh, just some…"
"Some, what?
His eyes went wide. Wider than usual. She followed his gaze back to the rear of the pier, and saw three, no, four men slowly advancing on there position. Ducking from pillar to crate, cover to cover. She knew instantly who they were the moment she saw there Kevlar vests and balaclavas covering there faces.
Resistance.
Without a word she pushed Conner in the gut, sending him across the pier and out of the path of the bullets flying past them a second later. Conner used a pretty vulgar word not even Daniel had used before, right before slipping off the pier and out of view. There was a little splash as he hit the water.
The roar of the ship's frontside canon erupted, gouting yellow fire as the gunner compressed the trigger. Wooden splinters and boards were thrown up in the canons destructive path. The rebels quickly ducked out of the way, and only one fell victim to the barrage. The rest started discharging suppressing fire down the pier.
Zima ducked behind one of the weapon crates, curling into a ball as she checked her ammo on her pistol. To her right, Spike was rolling and shooting out of cover, showing inhuman agility as he reloaded as he went. Apart from the crates there was almost nothing else to hide behind. And she didn't feel like dying in the river, of all places.
That left the Muton ship. Speaking of which, they were already falling back onto the deck like a bunch of panicking cowards. Her chances of surviving them were slim, but better than facing the bullets. She waited for a break in the gunfire and dashed towards the boarding ramp.
But when she reached the peak of the ramp, the Muton leader stood in her way. "Oh no you don't, snake."
"We had a deal, Muton."
"And we've had our exchanges. The rebels are your problem now."
Zima unhooked her jaw and spat a glob of green/yellowy venom at the Muton in no more than a second. But even with her speed, the Muton was quicker. He shielded his face with his forearm, and the venom splattered over his thick gauntlet. A few trickles slid past and landed on his face, but on the whole the attack was harmless.
Before she could react, the Muton turned his shielding limb into a powerful hook, and smashed her in the face. The impact was enough to send her flying. She soared through the air and back down onto the pier, landing with a pained hiss of pain as wooden splinters dug into her backside. Her vision doubled as she curled her serpentine body in on herself. For a few long moments her hearing was full of ringing pain.
She watched two ships back away from the pier and make a U-turn in the water. She growled out all the curse words and racist slang she could think of, almost wishing one of them would shoot her to end the explosive pain in her face and her head. The Muton on the gun stopped shooting when the ship was nothing more than a shadowy bulk in the distance. Zima blinked blood from her eyes and cleared her duel-vision. She shouldn't be so surprised at this point, but she almost expected the Muton's to at least help against a common enemy.
She clawed back behind the weapon crate. Her snout dripped blood and she had to breathe through her mouth. She exhaled as she peeked over the crate and saw Spike had only killed one rebel during her escapade. Whether the hybrid had a reaction to her attempt at abandoning him was hard to tell, but right now they would either live or die together.
She blind fired over at the rebels, but these ones seemed better trained than most. Not like her early days as a commander, facing down rookies and lowly insurgents who couldn't hold a gun the right way round. These guys stuck to cover, and didn't take risks. They had even stopped shooting at the Muton's, just to make sure they would leave. They were clumped side-by-side behind a long abandoned husk of a dinghy.
Her gun sounded off a pathetic hum, letting her know the ammo was spent. She went to reload but stopped herself. Instead, she reached up into the weapon crate, peeking an emerald eye to quickly scan over the contents. She swathed through the whole arsenal until she found something. It was egg-shaped, with a little button on the top. There was a whole bandolier of other identical devices. She went to grab it but a bullet punched her in the hood, in almost the exact same position as the older one she'd gotten so very long ago. She hissed and ducked away, blood dripping from her mouth and down her chest.
Seeing her own yellowy-coloured insides was revolting and shocking, and she nearly fainted at the sight, if not for the pain in her head keeping her eyes wide and dilated. Grinding her fangs, she reached back up and felt for the bandolier as fast as she could. Her fingers clasped around one of the grenades and she pulled it out. She clicked one of the buttons, and a series of beeps emanated from the device, slowly winding up in frequency and intensity.
She threw the bandolier, overhead, towards the rebels. It spun twice before landing right beside the overturn dinghy. There cries of panic were severed by a deafening explosion. An orb of green plasma vented outward in all directions from where the bandolier landed, engulfing anything within a twenty meter radius. That included the pier and a chunk of the boathouse, which vanished completely.
Rickety to begin with, the boathouse sank like a stone. The pier slanted to the east, then backwards. Zima was almost crushed by the weapon crates as she rolled out of there way. Both of them dunked into the river with two watery plops. Some of their contents bounced almost peacefully across the surface a moment later.
Zima and Spike joined the weapons too as the entire pier came falling down. Zima slithered as fast she could towards the shore before that could happen, but she only made it halfway before her tail sunk into the water, and the rest of her followed. Zima wasn't scared of water, but her curvy body was a bit on the heavy side. She managed to surface and find a floating board to cling onto. She spat out a mouthful of water and paddled for the shore.
Spike was there to meet her. She half expected him to push her back into the water, of all the betrayal's she'd witnessed today (and the sun hadn't even come to its zenith yet!). But Spike offered out a hand and she took it. The hybrid gave her a look that was maybe admiration, or suspicion. A mix of both, she surmised.
Splashing caught there attention. Conner was slowly being taken to the east by a light current. "Help!" the Sectoid cried. "Somebody help!" Of to the side, a pool of dark crimson emanated from a few severed limbs once belonging to the rebels, bobbing along with a mix of broken wood and an occasional plate of armour or gun barrel. A few people had gathered nearby to watch the show in stunned silence.
She ignored them, shook her head, and unhooked her jaw. But rather than shooting out a ball of venom, her tongue lashed out across the dozen or so meters to where the Sectoid was flailing. It lashed around his shoulders and arms and she yanked her head to the right, like she was a living fishing rod reeling in a big catch. She tried not to gag as she tasted the alien's sweat.
She coiled her tongue and brought Conner to land. Conner flailed the entire time, and then his composure slowly returned once she and Spike hoisted him up onto the concrete ramp. Zima rolled her tongue back into her mouth as Conner bent over and started listing off things on his fingers as he talked. "Alright, first off, let me just say I don't know how on earth you managed to land this job. You disobey my orders not one minute after I give them. Then you try to abandon us by leaving with those Phoenix goons, and then – you blow up half the docks and all our supplies with it, making our exchange MUTE. What have you got to say for yourself?"
"You owe me."
She didn't think his eyes could get any wider. Conner's mouth flapped a few times before he managed to find the words. "Owe… You? Me owe you? Give me one reason why I shouldn't just block those words out of my head."
"I saved your life. You would have drowned just then."
"Hey I can swim, alright? Just not… all that well. Can you believe this bitch, Spike?"
Spike crossed his arms and huffed.
"Yeah, I suppose your right." Conner sighed, as if he and his bodyguard had said something Zima missed. She blinked at the both of them and wondered for a moment if she had blacked out. "All right, Agent-slash-dog, thanks for blowing up my stuff. Let's just hope the data I gave away doesn't come biting someone in the rear, later."
"What data did you give those Muton's?" she asked. Spike produced a medkit and started patching himself up. He went to treat Zima but she did it herself, trying to mask her reaction at seeing her own blood.
"Just blueprints on the spaceport, ship manifests, guard details and all that jazz. Nothing harmless."
"Nothing harmless? What if they use that to attack the port?"
"That's the thing, all this data is free for the public to see, except the manifests on departing and arriving ships. I'm thinking Gray Phoenix is more interested in finding a ship then blowing everything up – unlike someone I know. Doesn't matter if they blow it up anyway, there hasn't been off world reinforcements for a long time now."
Zima winced as she felt the inner stitching's of her flesh slowly wind back together. The bullet had gone right through, so basic medicine was all she'd need. She could get shot another hundred times and she'd never get used to the sight of her own blood.
"That's because Advent's on there last legs," Conner continued. Zima gave him a dismissive frown.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
"I was hoping you weren't so thick in the head, dog. Take a look around you. The resistance is already on this side of the river. It's only a matter of time before they occupy the occupiers."
Zima went to say something, decided not to. She scented the air with her tongue and didn't think Conner was lying. But her head told her not to trust him. She didn't know what to think anymore.
"Look, you said I owe you, and you're lucky Spike here thinks the same, so I'm about to repay you. I tried to help your human friend, but he's a little blind to the subtle cues."
"For once we agree on something," she said.
"South of town, there's a little cabin Spike and I hold up in when we need to lay low. Its just past an old-world stop sign, right next to a few fake strawberry bushes. Behind them's a little trail that leads to the cabin. Its got food, water, medicine, everything. Perfect place to hide."
"That's… good for you. Why are you telling me this?"
"Elders, is every Advent agent so naive? Go there, take your human and leave this city. Hold up there until you figure something out. I've been in this game a lot longer than you have. Advent's going to fall, and the sooner you get out, the better your odds will be."
"How?" she asked. "How can you be so sure?"
"I play both sides of this war, and I hear a thing or two about who's winning and who's not. You should see the kind of weapons XCOM's been manufacturing lately. Top of the line stuff. It's damn impressive."
"You're… aiding those terrorists? You're the reason City 31 is where it is now?"
"I've helped them as much as I've helped you, you just don't know it. And I don't think you're in a position to judge me. You and every other Agent have killed more people than you've saved. But anyway, you saved my life, and now I've helped save yours. It's probably best if we never see each other again. I can see on your face – and in your mind – that you really want to kill me."
"Understatement of the era." Zima stood up. She noted Spike's unease around her. The idea of undoing her previous help of these two was certainly tempting. But she was dead tired. She needed to leave this place, this whole city, but her body told her not to. It was like there was a whole other war happening inside her own mind. And Conner could testify to that. "Are you planning on leaving the city as well?"
"We've got a few loose ends to tie up, so we'll be staying a while longer. Maybe XCOM will let us sell them stuff after the war's over."
"Yeah, right." Although Zima was being sarcastic, a part of her thought that was exactly how things would turn out for this Sectoid. "Well, it wasn't nice knowing you, Conner. 'Bye."
She spun on her tail and slithered into the streets, her shadow growing short as the sun rose behind her. Conner and Spike watched her go. It would be the last time either of them would see the Agent again.