The box spoke. Its voice was soft, familiar. It was his late partner’s voice.
“I’ve got the box,” Jace grunted, hefting the DT-5. Its single handle was warm. Active. “Where’s the drop?”
Jace set the DT-5 down. Its screen flickered to life, displaying a swirling golden symbol: a locked vault. “Fifty petabytes of classified memory engrams. The Ghost of the Tantalus Core. One hundred percent verified.”
Then the handle clicked shut. The rooftop was empty. And somewhere in a cold server vault, a ghost woke up, not knowing it had ever been a man.
Jace stumbled back, his own head pounding. He’d seen hard-drive wipes, but this was different. The DT-5 wasn’t a transporter. It was a weapon.
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