by Jay Kristoff
Grimm had told her about Zeke’s plan to get his siblings out of Megopolis. The satellite footage she’d seen of the firefight over the Daedalus capital wasn’t great shakes, but it looked like an escape could’ve been under way. Someone had obviously got out, flown back to Babel Tower.
Someone who knew where to find me.
“I’m with Paladin,” Abraham said. “I mean, Ezekiel seemed okay. But his sister was obviously a psychopath. These lifelikes were so dangerous, they were banned under Corp law across the entire Yousay.”
“Murdered their own maker, I heard,” Deez murmured.
“THEY’RE KILLERS, LEMON,” Cricket said. “ALL OF THEM.”
Lemon swallowed hard. Thinking about the girl who’d been her bestest. Her family. The years they spent in Los Diablos together, the kindness Evie and Mister C showed her when everyone else was just looking for a slice of her. She knew Evie was different now—from what Crick said, she’d turned hard since they left her in Babel. But the thought of abandoning her still tasted dirty in Lem’s mouth, true cert. Sure, Evie had told her to leave, but that was just the hurt talking. Lem had lied to Evie. She’d betrayed her, and the friendship that meant so much to her. Evie had a right to be mad about it. And if she was coming here to talk…
“I owe her a hearing-out at least.”
“SHE’S NOT THE SAME, LEMON,” Cricket warned. “SHE’S NOT THE GIRL YOU KNEW.”
Lemon caught sight of a silhouette against the dawn light, sleek, twin-winged—a GnosisLabs flex-wing cutting low over the desert floor. She could feel the static crackling behind her eyes, waiting just at her fingertips. The faint ache in her belly, the scratch of those three tiny scars against the fabric of her tee.
“None of us are the girls we knew,” she said softly.
The freaks spread out, seeking cover around the compound, but Cricket just stood his ground. The chaingun in his forearm unfolded with a series of dull clunks, his burning optics aimed skyward as the flex-wing cruised closer, banked smoothly and, amid a storm of grit and dust, came in to land just fifty meters away.
The engines cut out, their low-pitched whine fading like a song. The door opened, gull wing–style, a familiar figure stepping out into the budding light. And though it wasn’t the person she was expecting, Lemon’s heart just started hammering at the sight of him.
“Dimples!” she cried.
Ezekiel grinned his lopsided grin, ear to pretty ear. “Hey, Freckles.”
She made to run forward, wanting to just hug him to almost-death and then maybe punch him till his arm fell right off again. But Cricket knelt down with a whine of pistons and servos, holding out one massive metal hand and barring her way.
“WHAT DO YOU WANT, EZEKIEL?” Cricket demanded.
Ezekiel glanced up to the big WarBot. “Good to see you, too, Cricket.”
“WHAT DO YOU WANT?” Cricket repeated.
Zeke folded his arms, looked among the assembled freaks.
“I’m here to warn you. All of you.”
“ABOUT WHAT?”
“They’ve broken into Myriad, Cricket. They have access to all of Monrova’s secrets, including how to make more of themselves. And how to replicate Libertas.”
“Shit…,” Lemon whispered, heart sinking.
“Gabriel wants to transmit the virus across the country,” Ezekiel continued. “Spark a robotic revolution. But he needs access to Miss O’s satellites to do it. Which means going through all of you.” Zeke met their eyes, one by one. “I’m looking to stop that from happening.”
“HOW’D YOU GET AWAY?” Cricket demanded. “THEY KNEW YOU WERE COMING HERE TO WARN US, AND THEY JUST LET YOU LEAVE?”
Ezekiel hung his head and sighed. “I had a little help.”
Turning back to the flex-wing, the lifelike opened the rear door. He reached inside, palm upturned, and Lemon’s eyes narrowed as she saw a metal hand, off-white, trimmed in gold filigree, take Zeke’s.
“…Solomon?” Abraham gasped.
The spindly logika climbed out of the flex-wing, slithered down onto his knees as if his servos were all busted. “THIS LITT-T-TLE P-P-P-PIGGY HAD ROAST BEEF?” he groaned.
Abraham took one step forward, concern in his dark eyes. “Sol?”
“Brotherboy,” Diesel warned. “Stay back.”
“ROAST B-B-BEEF?” Solomon tilted his head and shivered a little. “BUT WHY…WHY WOULD A PIG E-E-EAT BEEF?”
“WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?” Cricket demanded.
“Gabriel infected him with Libertas.” Ezekiel shook his head. “I think it’s sent him mad. I’m sorry. They said this was his choice, but…”
“CH-CH-CHOICES,” Solomon groaned. “CHOICESSSSS.”
“SO YOU DROVE MY FRIEND INSANE,” Cricket spat.
“I had nothing to do with this, Cricket,” Ezekiel snapped. “I didn’t even talk to Solomon before he took the virus. I was burying Ana at the time.”
The words hit Lemon like a shot to the jaw. She knew full well what Ana Monrova had meant to Ezekiel. How deep he’d loved her. Ever since Babel fell, Zeke had spent his life searching for her. Ana was the air that helped him breathe. The dream that let him sleep. And now she was…
“Daedalus killed Ana, Cricket,” Ezekiel said. “They killed her.”
“Oh god, Dimples,” Lemon whispered. “I’m so sorry….”
“Yeah.” He glanced at her, the muscles of his jaw clenching. “Me too.”
The lifelike looked back to the north, eyes narrowed against the sun. The hurt in his voice was bone-deep, etched in every line of his face.
“I tried to talk sense into the others,” he said. “Into Eve. I thought maybe I’d got through to her. But in the end, she wouldn’t listen. None of them would. They’re all just…lost.” Ezekiel met Lemon’s stare, a faraway sadness in that fugazi blue. “I’ve got nothing left now. So I aim to stand here if you’ll have me.”
“Come on, Crick,” Lemon pleaded.
“LEMON, I DON’T—”
“You gotta believe in someone sometime.”
The WarBot glared at Ezekiel, optics burning. But the raw pain in his words, the tears in his eyes, must have swayed even Cricket’s pitiless heart, because ever so slightly, he eased his hand away. And that was all it took. Lemon bolted across the broken ground, kicking up sand with her oversized boots, crashing right into Ezekiel’s arms. His embrace was like warm pillows and that freeze-dried ice cream they kept downstairs—soft and sweet all at once.
“I missed you,” she sighed. “For really real.”
He squeezed her tight, kissed the top of her head. “Missed you, too.”
“You’re always welcome here, Dimples. Always.”
“Thanks, Freckles.” He drew back to look her in the eye, his tone darkening. “I’m glad you’re okay. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, I’m sorry—”
“Fuhgeddaboudit,” she said, hiding her tears behind her streetface. “I’m a big girl. Don’t need you swooping in to rescue me every five minutes, ya know.”
He smiled, but the sadness in it was like a knife, twisting Lemon’s insides.
“I’m sorry…” Lem shook her head, tried hard to find the words. “About Ana. And about…I’m sorry…that she didn’t come with you.”
“Yeah,” he breathed.
“But you still got something left, you know that, right?”
He looked at her blankly, and she punched him hard in the arm.
“You got me, stupid.”
He smiled again, that dimple she loved coming out to shine.
“Stronger together,” he said.
She nodded. “Together forever.”
Lemon hugged him again, so tight it made her arms ache, her hands shake. It was so good to have him back again, so good to know he’d stayed true. And for a minute, beneath that r
ising sun, enfolded in the circle of his arms, for just a second she actually believed it might be possible. That somehow, they might make it through this thing and out the other side. That somehow, everything was going to be okay.
She should’ve known better.
True cert.
“KISS? MARRY? KILL?” Solomon moaned. “KISSMARRYKILL?”
“…Is he gonna be okay?” Lemon asked.
“ALLRISKYSMIRK? LARKYMILKSSIR-R-R?”
“He’s gone totally mum and dad,” Grimm muttered.
Abe raised an eyebrow, lips pursed in thought.
“…Mad?” he ventured.
Grimm grinned. “Three points, mate.”
They were gathered down in the main room of the habitation pod, the space circular, wide and brightly lit. A blank vid display graced the wall, shelves full of books, all sizes and colors, pre-Fall artwork plastered over the ceiling. Solomon sat on the couch with his head in his hands. Aside from Diesel, who was already back upstairs monitoring the satellite arrays, the freaks all stood around the logika in a small semicircle. Ezekiel’s expression was grim and drawn. Abe knelt before Solomon, peered into his optics.
“His decision-making matrix seems totally cooked,” the boy sighed.
“Wassat mean?” Grimm asked.
“SHOULD I?” The logika hung his head, groaned. “I COULD, WOULDN’T I?”
“It means his core parameters have been erased,” Abraham said. “And he can’t deal with the options now presented to him. All the things he couldn’t do, he now can. And he doesn’t know what to do about it.”
“So he’s rubber ducked?” Grimm asked.
Abe glanced over his shoulder at the bigger boy. “He’s not in a good way.”
“Can you fix him?” Ezekiel asked.
“I wouldn’t even know where to start,” Abe confessed.
“Turn him off, maybe?” Grimm suggested.
“OH?” Solomon glanced to the boy, something like relief flooding his voice as he squeezed Abe’s hand. “SHOULD I SH-SHUT DOWN, MASTER ABRAHAM?”
“I’m not your master anymore, Solomon. You’re free now.”
“OH, BUT YOU MUST TELL ME!” the logika begged. “TELL ME, P-P-PLEASE!”
Lemon felt a rush of pity at the genuine fear and hurt she heard in the poor bot’s voice. Solomon had been an utter prick when she’d first met him. She’d actually short-circuited him for it. But what would it be like to have the pillars that held your world up suddenly pulled away? All the doors unlocked, all the options available, all the choices possible? Despite the run-in they’d had, she felt sorry for him, and she could see the same pity in Abraham’s eyes as he looked the logika over, sighing.
“Maybe…maybe, that’s for the best.”
“IS IT?” Solomon asked, desperate.
“Just for a little while.”
“IT IS, IS IT, IT-T-T-T ISSSSS?”
The boy sighed. “Shut down.”
“OH.” Solomon nodded, his smile flickering and fritzing. “OH, YESSSSS.”
The lights in the bot’s optics faded slow and finally died, and without another sound, he slumped back onto the couch, silent and still.
“That’s some virus,” Grimm murmured, glancing at Ezekiel. “Imagine if they had a way to spread it across the country. Half the Daedalus army would be…”
“Rubber ducked?” Abraham offered.
“Now you’re getting the ’ang of it, mate,” Grimm smirked.
“We can’t let that happen,” Ezekiel said. “Unleashing Libertas on Megopolis would rock Daedalus in their shoes. Most of the city runs on robotic labor. Their food production. Their army. All of it.”
“But Gabriel and…and the others are coming here?” Lemon asked.
Ezekiel nodded. “It’s the only way they can transmit the electronic component of the virus on a mass scale. Maybe not today, or tomorrow. But they’re coming for us eventually.”
“Give me a little more time, and we’ll have a nuclear warhead waiting for them,” Abe said.
“Yeah, but that threat’s no good unless we’re actually willing to use it,” Lemon said. “And I for one am too goddamn gorgeous to die in an apocalyptic firestorm.”
“True on all counts.” Grimm smirked at her sidelong, then looked around the room. “I’m figurin’ we better put some spit and polish on our defense?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Ezekiel said.
Lemon dragged a lock of blood-red hair down to her lips, sucked on it thoughtfully as she looked at Grimm. “So we just gonna sit this one out?”
He blinked. “What other option we got?”
“There’s a war for the whole country about to be fought out there. Maybe we wanna be stepping in?”
“Love, aside from not bein’ able to leave this place undefended, these are armies we’re talkin’ here,” Grimm said. “The biggest CorpStates in the Yousay going head to head. Stepping in means getting stepped on.”
Lemon chewed her lip but couldn’t find a good argument to give voice to. There were only a handful of them. It wasn’t like this was really their biz. And they couldn’t just leave the sat-vis abandoned for Gabriel to use. Maybe there was some sense in holing up here, protecting their own….
So, with no further disputes, Grimm hauled himself to his feet.
“You sure you’re fizzy?” Lemon asked, looking him over.
“Yeah,” Abe frowned. “What was that up in your dorm earlier?”
“I’m Robin Hood, love, promise.” Grimm turned from Lemon, grinned at the smaller boy. “And I’ll tell you when you’re older, mate. Much older.”
Lemon blushed a little, dragging her bangs down over her face. “Come on, then. Deez is tracking the BioMaas army on the sat-feeds. She says it’ll be close to sundown before they hit Armada. We’ve got time.”
“I checked the feeds earlier,” Abe said. “Daedalus has some serious firepower in this cavalry unit they’ve mustered. Siege-class logika, grav-tanks, heavy air support. They’ve got BioMaas outnumbered at least three to one. It’s gonna be a massacre. CityHive isn’t gonna even get close to Megopolis.”
Lemon touched the scars at her belly. Bit into her lip. Wondering what might happen if Daedalus wiped the floor with BioMaas. Or if BioMaas somehow rolled over the top of Daedalus. Either way, this war would change the shape of the Yousay. And on top of everything else, the freaks still had Babel to worry about.
Gabriel.
Faith.
Eve…
“We need to be ready,” she said. “We better get to work.”
* * *
_______
If not for the shadow hanging over her head, it might’ve actually been fun.
With the sun climbing high in the sky, the freak crew held a working bee around the Miss O compound. With the Daedalus cavalry still hours away from hitting the BioMaas swarm, Diesel came down out of sat-vis to help, and despite Grimm’s protest, she plugged her tune spinner into the PA system. Miss O’s was suddenly awash with the discordant, blast-beat stylings of the girl’s favorite drudge bands.
“This is not music!” Grimm howled, hands to ears.
“You’re right!” Deez shouted back. “It’s poetry!”
With walls shaking, earth quaking and Diesel lip-synching along to the completely incomprehensible lyrics, the freaks set about getting their little fortress a little more fortified. The doors to the seven missile silos were the first point of order—they’d been open since the Major tried to nuke the country, and there was no way to close them again electronically. Fortunately, Cricket was on hand with twelve thousand horsepower’s worth of elbow grease, and Ezekiel’s strength was nothing to sneeze at, either. After the logika and WarBot dragged each silo shut, the freaks welded them closed and rigged them with explosives. Lemon served in a supervisory capacity, off
ering unneeded advice whenever possible.
The big bot seemed a little out of sorts, true cert. Lemon watched him work, dragging a massive chunk of limestone over the hatchway to Silo No. 4.
“You doin’ okay, you little fugger?” she finally asked.
“DON’T CALL ME LITTLE,” he said.
There was a smile in his voice at the old joke they’d shared with Evie. But Lemon knew the bot well enough to know something was on his mind.
“Serious, Crick,” Lemon said. “You doin’ okay?”
The WarBot paused in his work, hefting five tons of boulder as easy as she’d lift a pebble. It took him a long moment to answer.
“JUST THINKING ABOUT SOLOMON, IS ALL. HE WAS MY FRIEND, LEM.”
She sucked her lip, nodded slow. “Aaaaand now you’re wondering what you’d have done in his shoes, right?”
He looked at her, head tilted, optics burning blue.
“You’re wondering if you’d have taken the virus, Crick,” she said. “If being free of the Three Laws is worth the risk of going crazy.”
Cricket put his hands on his hips. “…NOT JUST A PRETTY FACE, ARE YOU, KID?”
“Pfft.” She brushed the dust off her freckles. “This face is better than pretty.”
“THOSE WARBOTS THAT USED TO FIGHT IN DREGS…THE ONES THE LIFELIKES DID THEIR EARLY EXPERIMENTS ON…” Cricket shook his head. “THEY DIDN’T JUST BREAK DOWN LIKE SOLOMON DID, LEM. THEY HURT PEOPLE. KILLED PEOPLE.”
“I don’t think that’d happen to you, Crick,” she said, looking up at him. “You’re just not wired that way.”
“I DUNNO. THINKING ABOUT EVIE…WHAT SHE’S BECOME.” Cricket shrugged his massive shoulders. “I’M NOT SURE ANY OF US REALLY KNOW WHAT WE’RE CAPABLE OF UNTIL IT COMES DOWN TO IT, LEM. UNLESS YOU’RE PREPARED FOR AN ANSWER YOU DON’T WANNA HEAR, MAYBE IT’S JUST SAFER NOT TO ASK THE QUESTION.”
Lemon felt the lump in her throat growing into a boulder. She remembered when Cricket only came up to her waist—boggle-eyed, loudmouthed, always fretting on what her and Evie were up to. Little Cricket had been a worry-machine, a kind of robotic conscience and overanxious babysitter all in one. But she could see how much he’d changed since this strange trek of theirs had started. Not just the body he was in or the way he thought, but the space he filled in her chest. And it hurt her to see him hurting, too.
