by Jay Kristoff
Her hand was still at her own throat.
Fingertips digging into her skin.
Uriel and Gabriel finished their work, coupling the life-support unit to a small generator and disengaging the locks that held the capsule in place. It floated similar to a grav-tank: a small cushion of magnetized particles keeping it from touching the ground, the frost on the floor crackling with small arcs of current.
Preacher flipped the safeties on his shooters, scruffed Jojo behind his ears.
“Ready?” he whispered.
She’s not the girl you knew….
“Goddammit, wake up!” Preacher hissed.
“I’m ready,” Ezekiel whispered. “Just don’t hit Ana.”
“Told you, Zekey,” the bounty hunter winked. “I ain’t no killer. An artiste is what I am.”
Uriel pushed the hatchway wide, began backing out of the sphere.
Ezekiel had a clear shot at his brother’s spine.
“Come, sister,” Gabriel said to Eve. “Let’s get her home.”
Together, they pushed the support capsule out of the frozen compartment. Uriel came first, dragging the weight, Gabriel pushing the other end of the capsule. Eve came last, walking slower, clouded hazel eyes still fixed on her doppelgänger. And into the crackling, pregnant silence, she spoke. A question that made Ezekiel’s stomach flip.
“…Should we be doing this?” she whispered.
Uriel and Gabriel stopped, turning to look at their sister.
“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked.
“I mean…” Eve looked at the sphere around them. The girl in that frozen coffin of glass. “We just need her DNA for the third Myriad lock. Maybe we could just take a blood sample? Leave her here. Let her sleep. Like her father wanted.”
“Her father?” Uriel spat. “Why do we care what he wanted?”
“I thought you wanted her dead?” Gabriel demanded.
Eve’s eyes were fixed on Ana. The face behind the glass. Like a mirror. Like a pale reflection of herself. Ezekiel’s breath came a little quicker as she looked down at her open hand, slowly shook her head.
“I don’t know….”
“Not you, too?” Uriel snarled. “Bad enough I have to endure this lovesick puppy’s idiocy”—he waved at Gabriel—“now I have to deal with an attack of your conscience? Can not a single one of you forget your human frailties long enough to see this through to the end?”
“Go to hell, Uriel,” Gabriel spat.
“I’m already in it!” the lifelike cried. “Surrounded by deluded fools who believe they’re human. We are better! Stronger! More! We are the nex—”
The bullet struck Uriel in the back of his skull, blew his pretty face clean out. Gabriel and Eve flinched as they were splashed with blood and brain, as another dozen shots ripped through Uriel’s throat, torso, belly. The lifelike tottered, arms twitching, toppling into the railing and tumbling down into the vent shaft below.
“Lord, your family’s mouthy, Zeke,” Preacher growled, lowering his pistols.
Gabriel and Eve were already moving as the bounty hunter reloaded, dashing across the causeway and into cover. Half in a daze, the picture of Uriel’s end flashing in his mind, Ezekiel started blasting, shots ripping into Gabriel’s belly and thigh as his brother dove behind a bank of equipment. His heart was aching as he fired. His mouth dry as the wasteland humanity had made outside these walls. He knew his siblings were monsters. He’d seen all the hurt they’d given the world. Gabriel had murdered Monrova, little Alex; put a gun to a ten-year-old boy’s head and smiled as he pulled the trigger. Uriel had murdered Tania, snuffed her out like a candle without a shred of remorse. And Eve was a killer, too—the massacre at Paradise Falls and who knew where else. All of her design.
But still, they were family.
Monrova had made Gabriel his killer.
And Eve, she…
“I thought we killed you once already, Preacher!” she called.
“I’m like a bad cold, darlin’,” the cyborg smiled. “Just can’t get rid of me.”
“What are you doing, Ezekiel?” Gabriel roared. “This animal killed Hope. Now Uriel, too? How many more of us do you want to murder?”
“You don’t get to talk about murder, Gabriel!” Ezekiel cracked off a handful of shots at his brother’s cover. “You murdered Nicholas, Alexis, Alex. You murdered Silas. You murdered thousands of people when you overloaded the Babel reactor. And you’ll murder millions more if you get your way!”
“We’re your family!”
“You betrayed the one who made us! You left me for dead! And you’re trying to engineer the destruction of the entire human race!” Ezekiel shook his head, his voice incredulous. “Us being related doesn’t get you a pass for genocide! Just because you’re family doesn’t mean you’re not assholes!”
“Ezekiel, listen to me!” Eve called.
“No, you listen to me!” he yelled. “I’m sorry I lied to you, Eve! I’m sorry everyone else lied to you! I’m sorry your life didn’t turn out to be what you wanted, but that’s what life is! People lie. People screw up. People fail. But I know you! The girl you were built to be, and the girl you became afterward. And this girl I see in front of me now isn’t anything like either of them!”
“That’s the p—”
“—the point, I know! But is this who you really want to be? What do you think Cricket would say if he could see you now? Or Silas? Or Lemon? If you’re going to wipe out humanity, does that mean you’re going to kill her, too?”
“Humanity is a plague, Ezekiel!” Gabriel called. “A thorn in the side of the earth. Look at this world! Look what they did to it!”
“And you think you’re going to do better?” Ezekiel demanded. “When your reign begins with the murder of millions?”
“All right, enough of this crap,” Preacher muttered. “Jojo, execute.”
The blitzhund growled deep in its chest, its eyes flipping to a murderous red. Claws scrabbling on the steel, it dashed around the generators and charged right at Gabriel. The lifelike rose up from cover, plugged two shots into the blitzhund’s optics. Sparks burst as the bullets struck Jojo’s steel combat chassis, the hound stumbling and exploding a few meters short of its mark. The blast was still enough to knock Gabriel back, pepper him with shrapnel, shred his flawless skin. Preacher followed up with two grenades, lobbed in a lazy arc right toward the lifelike’s head.
Ezekiel’s heart was in his throat. Gabriel was a monster, but despite everything he’d just said, how far Gabe had fallen, they were still brothers. He remembered the days before the revolt, the pair of them in Babel, both falling in love for the first time. Zeke knew what it was to love with an intensity that was almost frightening. Could he blame Gabe for loving Grace as much as he loved Ana?
Do I really want to see him die?
Eve emerged from cover, face twisted as she ran. She dove through the air, arms outstretched. And moving like lightning, she caught Preacher’s two grenades and flung them back, tumbling behind cover as the explosives burst.
Preacher was thrown backward by the blast, coat and flesh shredded. Ezekiel was firing with his shotgun, muzzle flashes strobing, blasts catching Gabriel in his chest and dropping the lifelike to the floor. Eve rolled to her feet, boots thudding on the deck as she rounded his cover, eyes narrowed and locked with his. Ezekiel fired, but god, she was so fast—just as fast as he was. A shot struck her shoulder, she weaved through the rest, diving toward him and spear-tackling him into the wall.
His shotgun flew from his grip as his breath left his lungs. Her knuckles crashed into his jaw. Her knee with his groin. Doubling him up as she brought both fists down on the back of his head.
Bright light. Concussive pain.
“Eve, stop,” he gasped, trying to rise.
She drove a boot into his side ha
rd enough to crack his ribs. Ezekiel felt his insides tear, coughing blood onto the metal, and she kicked him again. Again.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
Crunch.
“Eve…”
Crack.
She drew back her foot to stomp on his head, her face an ashen mask. “I warned you this wouldn’t turn out the way you wanted it to.”
The shots burst out through her chest, one, two, three. Her eyes went wide as the blood sprayed, she staggered and turned, scarlet lips drawn back in a snarl. Another three shots struck her belly, chest, neck, sending her stumbling backward into the wall. Eve hit the steel hard, her face twisted in pain. Zeke could see the fury boiling in her eyes as she tried to push herself back up, tried to rise, to fight as she’d always done. But the damage was too much. The hurt just too deep. And slowly, eyelids fluttering closed, red spattering on her lips as she sighed, Eve slithered down to the floor, leaving a trail of red smeared on the metal behind her.
Ezekiel pulled himself to his hands and knees, wincing at the white pain of his broken ribs, the black agony in his crotch. He reached out for Eve’s throat, pressed shaking fingers to bloody skin. His belly surged as he felt a faint pulse, as he saw her wounds beginning to knit closed.
Preacher dragged himself to his feet, spitting a bloody, dark mouthful onto the floor. “She alive?”
Ezekiel looked at the bounty hunter. His face and chest had been shredded by the grenade blast, the metal combat chassis beneath gleaming in the frosty light. Despite his injuries, the cyborg reached into his coat, fished about in his pocket and stuffed a fresh wad of synth tobacco into his cheek.
“Sh-she’s alive,” he managed.
“Mmf.”
Preacher pulled his hat back on, the fabric smoking and torn by shrapnel. Reloading his weapons, he limped to where Gabriel lay in a puddle of blood. Gabe was already trying to rise, bright green eyes locked on the bounty hunter.
“I’m going to—”
Preacher raised his pistol, put two shots into Gabe’s kneecaps. The blasts rang out almost deafening in the hollow space. Zeke’s brother screamed, rolling around on the ground and clutching the wounds.
“Stay down, Snowflake,” he growled.
“You m-maggot,” Gabriel hissed. “You insect! You and all—”
Preacher fired again, blowing off Gabriel’s lower jaw in a spray of blood. The lifelike collapsed back with a strangled gurgle, eyes rolling up in his head.
“Th-that’s…enough,” Ezekiel said, trying to rise to his feet.
“You’re right,” Preacher nodded, inspecting his handiwork. “I reckon that oughta shut him up awhile.”
The cyborg leaned down and picked up Gabriel’s unconscious body, slung him like a sack of meat over Ana’s life-support capsule. Blood spilled from Gabe’s wounds, steaming on the frosted glass. With a wince and grunt of effort, Preacher pushed the capsule forward across the bridge, over to where Eve lay slumped against the wall. Ezekiel’s eyes were locked on Ana, floating inside that cool blue light, her face serene through the wash of blood on the glass.
He looked across at Eve, her eyelashes fluttering against her bloody cheeks.
“What are you d-doing?” he asked.
Preacher didn’t reply, bending down to pick Eve up and sling her onto the capsule beside Gabriel. Her fingers were twitching. Her breath shallow. Ezekiel could feel his ribs beginning to knit, the trauma from her beating blazed in red and blue across his side. He finally managed to drag himself to his feet, spitting the copper taste of blood off his tongue.
“I asked wh-what you’re doing,” Ezekiel said, his voice growing harder.
Preacher sighed, sucked his cheek. “Getting ready for pickup.”
Ezekiel frowned. “Pickup?”
“Mmf.” The man nodded, spat on the deck. “There’s a Daedalus special-ops team en route. Carriers. Ground troops. Machina, logika and air support.”
“You—”
The pistol flashed twice in the dark. Ezekiel felt the shots hit, knock him backward, legs going out from under him. The pain of white-hot fire and broken glass in his chest. He pressed bloody hands to the metal beneath him, tried to rise as Preacher leveled the pistol at his head.
“I did tell you the safest play was to ghost me, Zekey,” he said.
“C-code…,” Zeke managed to whisper.
“Yeah, I got my code,” Preacher nodded. “And I told you, son. The first part of it is loyalty. Daedalus saved my hide long before you did.” The bounty hunter shrugged. “ ’Sides, way I figure it, I’m saving a few million lives putting an end to this nonsense. So yeah, you saved my skin. But I figure this about makes us even.”
Ezekiel coughed red, tried again to drag himself up off the bloody deck. The spurs on Preacher’s boots rang silver-bright as the bounty hunter placed a foot on the lifelike’s chest, pushing him back down.
“You didn’t think when I got my augs replaced in Armada, I wouldn’t get a transmitter hooked up, too? Or that I wouldn’a called this in to Daedalus HQ the second I got the opportunity? I thought you was s’posed to have grown up.” Preacher shook his head. “Turns out the science boys want ’em some snowflakes to look at. And if your little Ana is the key to a whole passel of Nicky Monrova’s secrets in Babel, well, turns out they want her, too. But don’t fret, Zekey. Two o’ you oughta be enough. I’ma leave you here to rest up awhile. I owe you that much.”
“You…b-b…”
“Bastard?” Preacher tipped his hat back and smiled. “Yeah, I’m one o’ them, all right. But at least I ain’t a stupid bastard.”
The bounty hunter raised his pistol to Ezekiel’s chest.
“You sleep now, Zekey.”
BANG.
* * *
________
Smoke was rising from the burning buildings, New Bethlehem was thrashing in its death throes. Cricket stalked through the smoke, Solomon on his shoulder, Abraham in the palm of his hand. Making their way back through the chaos to the de-sal plant, Cricket couldn’t see any sign of Ezekiel or the Preacher. But through the smoke, he could see small cassocked figures fighting the rising blaze, trying desperately to save their city. Among them, he spotted a woman in ash-streaked white, mouth open as she roared commands to her men.
Sister Dee.
Abraham pulled himself to his feet and pointed. Cricket realized there were people trapped in upper floors of the burning tenements, a few more in the dockside warehouses. The Brotherhood were using hoses, pumping water direct from the massive storage tanks in the desalination plant. But they were too little, too few, the flames burning too bright and hot.
Sister Dee caught sight of Cricket, of her son, calling the thugs around her to attention. The men dropped their hoses, hauled out their weapons, facing off across the blazing ruins.
Solomon rapped on the side of his head. Held up a note.
Master Abraham says to put him down.
“I CAN’T DO THAT, ABRAHAM,” Cricket replied.
The boy looked up at Cricket and smiled as he spoke.
He says that’s an order, old friend.
Technically, Cricket supposed he didn’t have to obey. But he still trusted the boy. And so he bent low, placed Abraham gently on the ground. The boy walked toward the Brotherhood men, his hands raised high. The tension in the air was thicker than the smoke, their weapons were pointed directly at him—the deviate, the trashbreed, the abnorm. All they’d been raised and trained to despise.
And the boy turned his back on them.
He looked to the de-sal plant. The massive storage tanks of seawater and fresh water, bubbling and boiling through its innards. Abraham held out his hands toward the tangle of pipes, the rusty black metal and corroded rivets. His face twisted in concentration, his teeth bared. The air about him rippled, shivered, shook. And as Cricket watche
d, the seams on the pipes shuddered and cracked and finally burst open, unleashing a gout of high-pressure water.
The Brotherhood, Sister Dee, the faithful, all of them watched as the boy curled his fingers. The air rippled harder, Abraham’s face twisted with exertion as he slowly bent the pipes, directing the rushing spray high into the air. Thousands of liters spewed upward like a fountain, black and gray and heavy. Sunlight glittering in the droplets, tiny rainbows shimmering in the air as the water rained down into the flames. The fire smoked and seethed, steam rising in the blistering heat. But slowly, beneath the flood, the inferno choked. And sputtered.
And died.
The Brotherhood stared dumbfounded at the boy. A boy who had every reason to let them burn. A boy they’d been told to hate.
A boy who’d just saved their city.
And slowly, they lowered their weapons.
Cricket felt a knock on the side of his head, saw Solomon pointing up to the roof of the desalination plant. Up through the rushing spray, the glittering rainbows, Cricket saw a heavy flex-wing carrier swooping in, surrounded by lighter assault craft. Daedalus Technologies logos were emblazoned on the sides. A cloud of thopter-drones swarmed around the carrier as it came into hover, hooks and cables unfurling from its loading doors as the smoke in the air curled and rolled.
“WHAT THE HELL’S THAT?” he muttered.
He saw CorpTroopers in heavy power armor rappelling down to the plant’s roof. He saw the Preacher appear from inside the installation, pushing some kind of cylindrical glass case, too rimed in frost to see inside it. But even through the smoke and fog, Cricket’s optics were good enough to see two bloodstained figures being secured on the tethers, hauled skyward along with the capsule into the flex-wing. A pretty male with a mop of bloody blond hair. And beside him, dripping scarlet from the multiple holes in her chest…
