Glitch and Syntechie fled through the maze of cubicles in silence. Gitch heard a faint hiss, like the release of gas, and Syntechie’s outfit went dark. There was a metallic clattering behind them – the vent cover hitting the ground. Glitch risked a look back over her shoulder. The body of the chrome-plated drone was small – maybe the diameter of a microwave dish – and perfectly spherical, with embedded cameras shaped like the Eye of Horus on its cardinal points. Four propellers extended from its top, and a pair of metallic prongs like tuning forks extended from its base. It disappeared into the cubicles with a low, whirring hum.

The pair reached the huge, glass windows at the far end of the office. Glitch slowed as they approached, unwilling to go near them. She looked around for the nearest computer to jack into.

“If you can distract them, I can shut them down from the Matrix,” she told Syntechie.

Syntechie smirked at her in the darkness, neon lights from outside washing over her like body paint. “This run has been a disaster for you. I’m not putting my life in your hands.”

Glitch’s chin came up and she shook stray hair out of her eyes. “What are you going to do?” she asked sarcastically. “Be sexy at the drones? For a woman who’s half cyborg, you’ve got a really poor grasp of computers.”

Syntechie peered out the window at the forest of skyscrapers, neon, and darkness, searching the sky for something.

“Hush, pet” she murmured. “I’m working.” She smiled suddenly and pointed. “There. I love a man who doesn’t keep me waiting.”

A chopper like the rental Glitch had come in on veered around the building across the street and headed towards them. Syntechie’s shoulders relaxed. She fluffed her hair with her free hand, like a holovid celebrity about to deliver a speech.

A streak of light screamed down from the roof. The chopper dipped sideways, but it wasn’t fast enough to avoid the rocket completely. Syntechie went still as it hit. Both women stared at the cloud of smoke. It cleared, and against all odds, the chopper was still in the air, lolling dangerously from side to side. Smoke or steam poured from its underbelly. The chopper retreated. A second rocket shot down from on high, but the helicopter was out of range now.

Syntechie released a slow, measured breath. Glitch gave her a sidelong glance.

“What’s the expression about plans and first contact with the enemy again?” Glitch asked innocently.

Syntechie started walking briskly away down the cubicle corridor.

“Keep moving,” she said over her shoulder, and flipped out her phone.

Glitch looked around. She could hear the microwave hum getting louder, but couldn’t see its source. The drone suddenly popped up over the pseduo-wall Syntechie had her back to. The metallic prongs at its base started glowing. Glitch sprang forward. Syntechie, already on the phone, recoiled as Glitch sprinted towards her. Syntechie reached for the berretta. Glitch pulled up her hood in the three strides that lay between them. The barrel of the gun came up, aimed at Glitch’s chest. Glitch hoped in that split second that the Kevlar of her hoodie was tough enough to eat the blast. There wasn’t time to position properly. Glitch grabbed Syntechie by the shoulder and forced her down. She flung up a defensive right arm as the drone finished charging and struck. It nailed her in the arm, instead of between Syntechie’s shoulder blades.

The charge was intended to stun its victim – Glitch had seen its like before – with the added benefit of tripping the surge protector in cheaper cyberware and shutting it down. The leather casing of her hoodie ate the worst of the shock, but every hair on Glitch’s arm stood up. Her skin went tingly. The drone pulled back, out of reach, and started charging again. Glitch shook her arm out, tried to position for when it came in for its second sweep. Syntechie slid out of the way, giving Glitch more room to move her feet.

The drone dove again. It had some kind of learning protocol installed – when Glitch raised her arm a second time, it dropped and hit her in the chest instead. This charge was stronger – it made a sharp cracking sound as it discharged – but her armor was thicker there too. Glitch’s torso arched involuntarily but she kept her feet. Behind her, Syntechie squeezed off a round. It pinged harmlessly off the chrome casing and bounced into the array of cubicles. The smell of ozone and gunpowder filled the office space. The drone pulled back, charging again.

“Behind!” Syntechie hissed.

Glitch turned, left arm going up instinctively. A second drone nailed her forearm. Glitch’s entire arm went numb. Damn, the drones were talking to each other, compensating according to what their counterparts had learned.

“Run!” she snapped through clenched teeth at Syntechie.

Syntechie didn’t reply, but she did obey the order. Lips pressed together tightly, she disappeared down the corridor of cubicles at a run, phone still in hand.

The first drone caught Glitch square in the back. It felt like she’d been punched by Jones. Glitch stumbled forward, dropped to her knees. The second drone swung into her field of vision. Her limbs didn’t react fast enough to her command – fragging biology – and her right shoulder ended up taking the hit. The drones traded off, back and forth, keeping up a steady stream of jolts. The world turned glassy. Her whole body went numb, like a mild case of dumpshock.

Nine rounded the corner of the cubicle corridor. His canvas jacket flapped around him as he ran towards her – no way that thing was going to withstand the force of a shock. One of the drones zipped towards him. Nine reached for his wakizashi. The kanji tattooed to the back of his hand glowed hot white as the blade cleared its sheath. The entire length of steel lit and crackled with electricity. Nine carried the momentum of the draw into a swing. It connected squarely with the drone’s body in a smooth, clean motion, like the slide of a well-oiled gun. Light – blue, red, and orange – flashed and flared. The drone’s circuitry overloaded. It dropped to the floor in a sparking, smoking mess of scrap.

The second drone closed immediately behind its counterpart, diving into the opening left by the swing. Nine dropped to one knee. The drone shot past over his shoulder. Nine whirled. His blade cut a crackling crescent through the air and caught the drone from behind. Another display of electric fireworks and it also hit the floor.

Nine stood in a fluid, controlled motion. He turned in a slow, tight circle, searching for more enemies. The office space was still. The glow on the back of his hand faded away. With it, the electricity died out and he was left holding a more conventional blade of its kind. He sheathed his weapon. The steel made a soft hissing sound in the silence.

Gingerly, Glitch tried to get up. She made it to her elbows and knees – the rest was a bit more challenging. Nine pulled a phone out of his jacket, hit speed dial, and held it to his ear.

“Drones are down, Syn,” he reported. He looked down at Glitch. “I’ve got your netrunner. Get the data. Security’s going to be breathing down our necks before much longer.”

There was a pause.

“Understood. I’ll have the hacker shut it down,” he said.

Another pause. Nine frowned, though Glitch couldn’t tell if it was at her, or the person on the other end of the conversation.

“I can’t hack a rocket emplacement,” he said. “I’d have to dismantle it physically.” His eyes narrowed on Glitch like a targeting reticule. “We have her, we should use her.”

A third pause, and Nine let out a controlled breath.

“Fine. Hurry,” he said tersely, and hung up.

Nine slipped his phone back into one of his canvas jacket’s many pockets.

“You okay?” he asked Glitch.

“F-fine,” Glitch replied. Her tongue was numb and her speech came out slurred and stuttering. “Just sh-shock wea-wearing off.”

“It’s Glitch, right?” Nine said, pronouncing her name carefully. “Syntechie told me you covered for her.” He gave her a measured nod, “Quick thinking for a netrunner working in biospace.”

Glitch returned the nod. “Th-thanks for h-handling the drones,” she replied.

Nine nodded at her. “Welcome to the crew,” he said. He shifted his feet in a restless motion, as though trying to bleed off excess energy. “We need to keep moving.”

Glitch made another attempt at standing. She got to her feet, but her knees didn’t quite hold.

“Can I give you a hand?” Nine asked. The question was delivered in a perfectly polite, neutral tone.

Glitch hesitated, then nodded. Normally no, but they were on the clock, and she wasn’t going to be the one to fuck up this job any worse. Nine wrapped a hand around her forearm and lifted her bodily to her feet. For a man built along the lines of a knife, he was surprisingly strong. Maybe that was part of his cyberware. Up close, she could practically feel the energy coming off of him, like the buzzing electrical charge of a powerline.

“I think you spooked Syn, jumping in to help her like that,” he said conversationally as he guided her back through the maze of cubicles.

“Or her c-cyber eyes,” Glitch returned. She tried to pitch the statement like a joke, but he didn’t laugh. With her muscles moving, the numbness started to wear off.

Another explosion sounded from somewhere below them. This one was close enough that Glitch felt the vibrations through the floor. Nine quickened his step, pulling her along with him.

They rounded a corner just as the last of the numbness wore off, which was just as well, because the carpeting here was slick with blood. Glitch snapped her teeth together to bite off the end of an involuntary gasp. They’d arrived upon the wreckage of the server room.