by Jay Kristoff
Lemonfresh can make this world a garden once more. A place of harmony and peace, all people attuned to the needs of their fellows, all bound together in a perfect tapestry. Her genome is the key to a new era for this world.
The clones raised their hands.
The air crackled around them, edged with strange green lightning.
And everything began dying.
The machina failed first, bucking and shuddering like they’d been punched by invisible fists. Lemon watched as electricity crawled over their hulls, strange and vaguely green, blackening the men inside to charred husks. The heavy troopers fell next, their power armor fried to uselessness, toppling forward under their own weight. The men inside them suffered the same fate as the machina pilots—a mercy, she supposed. They weren’t alive to feel the slakedogs begin eating them.
This is my fault, she realized.
This is on me.
Lemon watched in silence. Watched the swarm sweep through the remnants of the Daedalus army. Watched as the citizens of Armada realized impossibly, unthinkably, that their defenders were gone. Watched the serpent seethe and crash onto the city, like the ocean that had never come, as those things that shared her shape stalked the streets in the swarm’s wake, washed red with blood.
The whole time, she didn’t make a sound.
Nobody did.
And when it was done, when the satellite passed mercifully beyond range and the picture changed from an abattoir to smooth expanses of desert sand, Grimm finally reached out and took her hand.
“…You okay, love?”
Her fingertips traced the three tiny scars at her belly.
The hate in her chest felt like it might burn her heart right out.
“No,” she said.
Lemon stood in the missile silo, staring at the end of the world.
At least the world as they knew it. There was no turning back from this, no way to put this beast back in the cage once she let it loose. But in her head, she could still see it playing out like newsfeed footage on the back of her eyelids whenever she closed them. The picture of those tiny figures on the feed, redheaded, black-clad, bloody-handed—the multitude of Her that BioMaas had given birth to. She thought about that orphanage in Armada, those kids she’d played poker with, all those lives snuffed out by something wearing her shape, sharing her genes. And after Armada would come Megopolis. Then Los Diablos and Dregs. Until the whole country was BioMaas’s garden, watered with the blood of millions.
“You sure about this, love?” Grimm asked beside her.
Lemon glanced at her boy, trying to keep the anger from making her voice shake as she answered. “This is on me, Grimm.”
“Lem, it wasn’t your fault,” Ezekiel said. “Those bastards took it from you, you can’t help what they did with—”
“No, but I can decide what I do about it,” she said. “I can’t just hole up here and hope for the best anymore. The BioMaas army will start moving again as soon as it gets dark. In a day, maybe two, they’re gonna be at the walls of Megopolis. I can’t just pretend I don’t have a part to play in all this. The Major was a bastard and a liar, but one thing he said still rings out, true cert.” She looked around the silo. “I have to choose a side. We have to choose a side. Or it gets chosen for us.”
Diesel was leaning against the wall, arms folded, black lips pressed thin. “So what’s your plan?”
Lemon nodded to the six warheads sitting on the silo floor. The nuclear surprise was held together by a metal framework and a jury-rigged prayer, lit with moody red lighting. “Abe, does this thing actually work yet?”
The boy pawed at one grease-stained cheek with one grubby hand. “I mean, I think so? I’ve rigged up a remote trigger that’ll set off the internal detonators. That small explosion should collide the fissile materials. Which in theory should make this whole thing go pop. In theory.”
Diesel scowled. “In theory, democracy works, Brotherboy.”
“What are the odds it’ll actually work like it’s supposed to?” Lemon asked.
“As opposed to not working at all?” The boy shrugged. “Better than average?”
Lemon sighed. “Better than nothing, I guess.”
“NOT SO SURE ABOUT THAT, LEM,” came a voice from above.
Lemon looked to Cricket, who was peeking over the silo’s edge. The boulders he’d shoved in place had been moved, the doors ripped open again—if they were gonna get this thing out of here, it’s not like they could drag it up the stairs.
“We have to do something, Crick,” Lemon said. “Director made it dead-set plain what BioMaas’s plan is. If CityHive is left to their lonesome, they’re gonna wipe Megopolis off the map. And they’re using me to do it, Crick.”
She shook her head, feeling the rage burning bright in her chest.
“Me.”
“So why not drop this puppy on their army?” Abe said, kicking the warhead.
A collective gasp rang around the silo’s innards.
“It’s okay,” Abe grinned, glancing around the collection of pale faces. “Turns out these things are hard to blow up. It’s not like sneezing on it will set it off.”
“Still,” Ezekiel said quietly. “Could you please not do that again?”
“We can’t just drop it on their army because the BioMaas swarm is only a day from Megopolis,” Lemon said. “We drop a nuke on the doorstep and get one good easterly, and everyone in the city gets ghosted. No point being brilliful badass heroes if we just bury everyone we save with radiation poisoning a couple of days later.”
“But Grimm could soak it up, right?” Ezekiel said. “Like New Bethlehem?”
Grimm and Lemon exchanged an uneasy glance. Lemon could remember the feel of his lips burning on her skin up in her room. The fire spilling out of his eyes and steam pouring off his skin in the sprinkler rain. Neither of them was sure what was happening with Grimm’s power, but asking him to soak up another explosion…
“We’re better off hitting them in the head,” Lem declared. “Not the hands.”
“But what good will that do?” Abe said. “We drop these warheads on CityHive, that’ll wipe their capital off the map, sure. But their army is still going to be out there tearing Megopolis to pieces.”
“I dunno.” Lemon shook her head, sucking on her lower lip. “I been chewing on it ever since they locked me up. When I was on that kraken with Crick and Evie and Dimples, I hurt one of the crew. And the others felt pain, yeah? And when I fried those Directors in CityHive, every living thing, the glowbugs, the H-Ks, the people, they all bucked like I punched them in the soft parts. Like they could feel him dying.”
Lemon twisted a lock of cherry-red hair around her finger, scowling.
“It’s like BioMaas is one big…one, yeah? Like a web. With the Directors at the center. There’s hundreds of copies of him in CityHive. Maybe thousands.” She looked around the group, meeting each of their eyes. “And if killing one Director can knock the whole city on its hind parts for a minute, imagine what killing every single copy of him will do to their army.”
“Sounds like loooong odds to me, Fresh,” Diesel said.
Lemon only shrugged. “If you got a plan that doesn’t involve irradiating the entire west coast of the Yousay, I’m all ears, Deez.”
“OKAY, SO PRESUMING THIS CONTRAPTION OF ABE’S EVEN WORKS,” Cricket said, “HOW ARE WE GONNA GET IT TO CITYHIVE TO DETONATE IT?”
Lemon shrugged. “Diesel power?”
Deez’s finely sculpted eyebrows made a race for her hairline. “You serious?”
Abe winced and nodded. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea. We’ve really got no idea about the physics of what Diesel’s power does. When that missile over New Bethlehem went through her rift, it exploded almost immediately.”
“Maybe it was just meant to go off at that mo
ment?” Lemon said.
“Maybe,” Abe said. “Or maybe sending it through the rift set it off prematurely. But given the…DIY, should we say, state of my modifications? I’m not sure we should be putting this rig through one of her rifts at all.”
“And even if we do pull it off and turn CityHive into the world’s biggest barbecue,” Grimm said, “you said killing the Directors only knocked other BioMaas flunkies around for a bit. We might still have to deal with their army.”
Lemon nodded. “Yeah. I figure a few of us will have to go with the bomb to CityHive to deliver it. The rest of us will have to make a stand in Megopolis. BioMaas is only moving at night. If we burn rubber all day, we can probably get there before the swarm does. If we time the bombing run right, we can help the Daedalus army clean up the swarm when the shockwave of all those Directors cashing out hits it.”
“And if we don’t time it right?” Abe asked.
“I guess we all get eaten alive?” Lemon shrugged. “But without us, the swarm’ll cut through Daedalus just like it did in Armada.” Lemon dragged her ragged bangs from her eyes, her voice softening. “Besides, I wanna be there when BioMaas hits. I wanna…”
She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry.
“I wanna see…them.”
Lemon could feel the others exchanging glances, trying her best to ignore the rising heat in her cheeks, the fear in her belly. She knew it was pants-on-head stupid, but a part of her felt responsible for those clones somehow. They were a part of her. Genetically speaking, they were her. And if there was something of who she was inside them, maybe it wouldn’t even come to a throwdown? If she could talk to them, let them see her, maybe she could convince them of—
“I can fly the bomb to CityHive,” Ezekiel said. “In the flex-wing. It’ll be a rough ride, but I think I’m a good enough pilot to get it there without getting shot down.”
Abe breathed deep and nodded. “I should go, too.”
Deez glanced at Abe, still clearly suspicious of the kid and his motives. “You sure about that, Brotherboy?”
Abraham met the girl’s dark eyes, a look of quiet determination on his grease-stained face. “I mean, if we’re actually going through with this, I should be there in case something goes wrong with the device.”
“Counting on your god to save you, maybe?”
He scratched the back of his head, gave a wry grin. “Actually, I was kinda hoping Diesel power would save me.”
The girl looked him up and down, one hand propped at her hip. But finally she gave a grudging nod. “I guess once the bomb’s out of the ship, I can Rift us all the hell out of there before it blows.”
Ezekiel looked at the pair and smirked. “Some of us get all the fun jobs, huh?”
“RIGHT,” Cricket said. “THAT PUTS ME WITH THE MEGOPOLIS DEFENSE CREW.”
“No way, Crick,” Lemon replied, glancing up. “You guard the fort. Those clones can melt every circuit in you with a crooked look. It’s too dangerous.”
“DAMN RIGHT IT IS,” the logika replied. “DANGEROUS FOR YOU. AND UNLIKE MOST ROBOTS IN THIS STEAMING CESSPIT OF A COUNTRY, THE THREE LAWS STILL MATTER TO ME.”
“Crick, no!” she said, her temper flaring. “I’ve lost everyone I gave a damn about over the past couple of weeks. I’m ordering you to stay here!” She glared around the room, lower lip trembling. “Listen, we’ve been bouncing around like a bunch of defectives! We got stooged by Gabriel, stuck our heads in the sand and sat around eating ice cream while BioMaas killed ten thousand people!”
Her voice was rising, cheeks flushing hot as she climbed to her feet.
“Since the Major bought it, nobody seems willing to step up and run this crew. So I’m stepping, goddammit! BioMaas is using my genes to end the world? Well, it’s gonna be my plan and my crew that stops them in their tracks. You wanna be part of that? Then roll up, roll up. You wanna run your own show? There’s the exit. Because I’m sick of being the tagalong, and I’m sick of being a punching bag, and I’m sick of sitting quiet while my future gets decided for me. We are the future! Us right here. The future of the whole human race. That crusty old Darwin prick says that only the strongest survive? Well, I say it’s time for the strongest to stop just surviving and start fucking winning!”
Lemon came to the end of her tirade. Blowing her unruly bangs from her eyes, she folded her arms and glared around the room again.
“Wow…,” Grimm murmured.
“Okay, I say this as a girl with a staunch history of heterosexuality,” Diesel said, deadpan. “But I am officially aroused, Fresh.”
Lemon grinned for a hot second, then dragged her streetface back on.
“Right, then, let’s get to work.”
* * *
______
Abraham sat in the sat-vis array, finger paused over the transmit button. The others were getting ready to leave—Lemon and Grimm packing up, Cricket carefully loading the cobbled-together warheads into the belly of Ezekiel’s flex-wing. Abe knew he should be upstairs helping, but if something went wrong on this run…
And so he’d done it. Locked in on the channels and put out the call, sending it into the wastes. It was Thomas who’d answered—Thomas, whose son’s life had been saved by the humidicrib Abe had pieced together from flotsam and spare parts. But still, Abe was a little surprised Thom had responded to his request. Maybe his words on the New Bethlehem boardwalk had sunk in. Maybe seeing a deviate save their city had made a few in the Brotherhood question who and what they were.
But in the end, only one of them really mattered.
The radio crackled with static. Abe felt his stomach roll as a familiar voice hissed in the speakers.
“…Abraham?”
The sound of her voice made his fingers clench. His eyes burn. He’d told Cricket once that his mother was a good person—that when his grandfather died, it had fallen to her to hold New Bethlehem together. That it was the world that had turned her cold. Made her cruel. She’d saved Abe’s life, after all. Killed her own father to protect her only son.
But then she’d tried to kill that son to protect all she’d built.
“Hello, Mother,” he replied.
A silence stretched between them, faint with static.
“How are you?” he asked, unsure what else to say.
“Happy to hear your voice,” she replied. “Are you well?”
“I’m alive.” He searched for something meaningful to say, found only trivialities. “Where are you?”
“Jugartown,” she replied. “We’ve been rebuilding here. The city is in turmoil after Casar’s death. Things have been…turbulent.”
“Is anyone sick? From the blast, I mean? The rads?”
“No,” she said. “It seems you and your…comrades spared us that, too.”
“You mean my friends.”
“…If you like.”
Silence rang out again. Stretching into the gulf between them. Abraham wondered what he wanted here. What she could possibly say. He couldn’t forget seventeen years of her scratching and clawing and killing to protect him. He couldn’t forget the cross she’d tried to hang him on, either. He loved her. And he hated her. And he wondered how this was going to end.
“Abraham,” she said.
“Mother,” he said at the same time.
Silence again. He was holding the microphone stand so tight, the metal was cutting into his palm. He imagined nails being driven there instead.
“You go first.”
“My son…I’m so sorry,” she replied. “I know I’ve no right to forgiveness. I did what I did to protect the cause. But you must know it tore my heart in two.”
“It’s better to be feared than loved, you told me.”
“I was wrong,” she said, voice trembling. “Seeing you…watching you save a city that would’ve gladly put you to the nai
l…God forgive me, I’ve never been more proud of you than in that moment. I love you, my son. Everything you are.”
“Deviate.”
“Yes,” she replied.
“Trashbreed.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Abomination.”
“You are my son, Abraham,” she said, and he could hear she was crying. “You are my son, and I love you.”
“That’s so easy to say,” he whispered.
“What else can I say? Tell me. Tell me, please.”
He fell silent then. Wondering if there was anything at all.
“There’s a war being fought out here, Mother,” he finally said. “Not some petty crusade about who’s right and who’s different. I mean a genuine war that will change the shape of everything to come. For the longest time, I was okay with sitting back and doing nothing. I knew what the Brotherhood did to people like me. I knew, and I turned my head and pretended, because you kept me safe. Because it was easier. And as furious as I am at you for what you did, I’m angrier still at myself.”
“Abraham—”
“The battle of Megopolis will decide the fate of the entire country,” he said, knuckles turning white on the mic stand. “And I’ve finally chosen a side, Mother. I’m standing with my friends, defending people who call us abominations, who fear and hate us. Because it’s the right thing to do. And in the end, that’s what matters. It’s not what you say but what you do that counts.”
“…And what would you have me do?”
“You have men at your command. An army of Brethren and Disciples.”
Silence rang over the channel as his words soaked in.
“Much has changed since you left us, Abraham,” she finally said. “The faithful are losing their hope. I am holding on by a thread here.”
“You can make a difference here, Mother. You can do what’s right.”
“I am doing what’s right, Abraham,” she replied. “For the faithful. For my people. All we’ve wrought, all we’ve suffered…Corps have risen and fallen before. Earthly rulers come and go. But the faith has endured. We have endured, my son.”
