Jett shook his head. "The technology was just booming when the Cataclysm struck. The main concern was the illegal manufacture of firearms and other weapons."
"Easy to do now. That's why the gun laws are so strict. Only RCE, HSSC, and other Haven-approved operatives are licensed to carry firearms. Carrying a firearm can cost you a minimum twenty years in the Martian mines. Murder with a gun will get you a life sentence. Using an AM weapon is a federal offense."
"How can the Havens enforce those laws? From what you told me earlier, it sounds like they can barely hold on to their remaining territory."
"They can't enforce the law. They don't even try, except to make an example out of someone. All they can do is control the market."
"Sounds familiar."
"The more things change, the more they stay the same." Arthur handed Jett a gleaming silver helmet. "Similar to the last one, but with improved alloy to take more punishment. I'd still advise against repeated blows to the head if you can help it."
"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."
Arthur tapped on his holoband interface. A wall panel slid open, revealing rows of weapons and gadgetry.
Jett slapped his hands together. "Now we're getting to the good stuff."
"Don't get too excited. Your weapon access is limited for now."
"Limited?"
"Trust isn't an immediately granted process, Jett. You already know enough to destroy all that Vigil stood for. I'm not granting you the ability to wage full-scale war until I see what you're made of."
Jett folded his arms. "Hey, you were the one trying to turn me into an assassin out there with Kane in the weapons depot."
A thin smile quirked Arthur's mouth. "That was a test, and you passed."
"A test?"
"That's right. Being Vigil is about more than following orders or taking out bad guys. It's about making the right decisions. Having a code of morality that separates you from them, keeps you from becoming what you hunt."
Memories flashed across Jett's mind. Bodies dropping, dead eyes staring up at him. He shook his head. "Not an easy thing to do. Not when things go south. And things tend to go south when you go into combat, no matter how noble your intentions are."
Arthur looked as though he understood. "That's why you're not in this alone. We're a team, Jett. Not a military body with orders meant to be obeyed without question. We work together to solve problems in this city. We challenge each other, learn from each other. "
Jett nodded. "I can deal with that."
"Fantastic. I'm arming you with the neothermic handgun that packs a wallop with either conventional rounds or a secondary thermal option for armored targets."
"I thought firearms were illegal."
"Everything about Vigil is illegal. So you may as well be armed. Proto will brief you on its use on the way out and continue as your digital assistant. I'll provide backup support and watch your back. You sure you still want to go through with this right away? It would be better if you take a break and rest up. Your injuries may have healed, but don't let the accelerated process fool you. It's very easy to re-injure yourself if you don't give your body time."
Jett shook his head. "I can rest after. I made a promise to someone. I'm a man of my word."
"Fine. I won't try to stop you. I won't even ask you what in the world you're investigating that led to you to the most dangerous criminal organization in the city. But when this is over… the real training begins. Understand?"
"Fine."
"Qhawa will fly you to the drop point. After that, it's all on you."
Jett glanced down. Qhawa was a silent silhouette waiting for him beside the floater.
He rubbed his hands together. "All right. Let's do this."
Chapter 13
Moisture droplets skittered across the window of the speeding floater, transforming the colossal injured structures into blurry, looming shadows as they whirred by. Jett glanced over at Qhawa, whose face was just as imperceptible as when it was masked.
"This thing is capable of flying itself, right?"
She kept her eyes on the command dashboard. "Yes."
"So why tag along? You going to watch my back?"
"No."
"Then what is this?"
"I wanted to talk to you."
He smiled. "Could've fooled me."
"What is your strategy in facing Joe Blow again? Your fighting skills were worthless the first time."
He frowned. "My power reserves were near-empty the last time. This time I have a fully-powered cyberdermis combat suit and all the goodies that come with it."
"So you plan just to attack him again?"
"You have a better idea?"
"You should know your enemy. The way he thinks, the motivations that feed his actions. 'If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the outcome of a hundred battles.'"
"Yeah, I've read the Art of War."
Her mouth hinted at a smile. "Then you should know the ultimate goal is to subdue an enemy without fighting. The first step to gaining the advantage is knowledge about the enemy you plan to face."
"And I guess you have that knowledge."
"Joe Blow has been in Neo York for quite some time. He's hired muscle. Works for the highest bidder."
"He's more than just muscle. He took a full blast from my spanners and hardly blinked. What's he made out of — granite?"
"He's atavistic. A genetic throwback. Aberrant genes manifest in rare cases, resulting in abilities not seen since the Imperial Age. In this case, freakish strength and near-impenetrable hide."
"Okay… so how do I defeat him? He has to have some kind of weaknesses."
"You might try to appeal to his sense of honor."
"What — like have a friendly little chat with him? Yeah, I don't think he's the one for conversation."
"Why? Because it's not as exciting or satisfying as getting your head smashed in?"
He grunted. "Touché. I'll… think about it."
Her dark eyes flicked in his direction. "Who is Tatsu?"
He shifted in his seat, turning his face away. The hazy view of the shattered city offered little solace. "She… was a member of my team. She's dead."
"Just a member of your team?" Qhawa's intonation hinted at the notion of something more.
He suppressed a stab of irritation when turning toward her. "You seem to be an expert on reading people. What do you think?"
She remained nonchalant, ignoring the barb in his statement. "I think the two of you were lovers. Close both on the battlefield and in the bedroom. I think you understood one another in ways beyond words. Am I on the right track?"
He felt the hollowness reopen, the dull echo of emotion he had thought buried. In his mind, he saw Tatsu's face, the raven sheen of her hair, the softness of her skin against his.
"Yes."
"And when you see me, you are reminded of her."
He looked at her, but there was no mockery on her face. He sighed. "I guess. You don't look like her. She was Japanese. Not…" he paused, taking another look at her.
A hint of amusement twinkled in her dark eyes. "Trying to guess my ethnicity?"
"Don't want to make a fool out of myself."
"My people are from the Quechua regions."
"South America."
"Peru, yes. From my mother's side. My father… well, that's a different story. Just say I'm a bit of this and that."
"Aren't we all? Anyway, some of your mannerisms… remind me of Tatsu, I guess."
"No, you don't guess. You know. I see it when you look at me."
He looked at her, focusing on her lips. They were full and looked ripe for kissing. "See what?"
"Longing. Loneliness. Passion."
Heat flushed across his face. "Sorry. It's not on purpose."
Her eyes locked with his. "You should know that we will never experience that kind of relationship."