by Jay Kristoff
“So only the pure will prosper?” he murmured.
“Abraham, I’m sorry.”
The boy hung his head. Wondering what he wanted here, what he could possibly say. He loved her, and he hated her.
But at least he knew now how this was going to end.
“Goodbye, Mother,” he said.
“My son—”
Abraham cut the transmission with a stab of his finger. Standing slow, his head reeling. He supposed that might be the last time he spoke to her. He supposed he might be headed toward his death. He supposed none of it mattered in the end, except what he chose to do. And he knew in his bones he was doing the right thing.
He turned and saw Diesel leaning against the door. Black lips, black eye shadow, black stare.
“If you came here to give me more crap, I’m not in the mood,” he said.
“I came here to tell you to hurry up, Brotherboy,” the girl replied.
Snatching up his tech-goggs, the boy strode toward the exit. But Diesel remained where she was, arms folded, blocking the door. Abe raised an eyebrow, motioned for her to move. “Waiting on you now.”
Diesel stayed where she was, nodded to the console.
“Heard what you said.” She pursed her lips, tossed her hair back from her eyes. “For a kid willing to step up like you do, I’ve been riding you kinda hard.”
But Abe only shook his head, anger tasting bitter and black on his tongue. “No. What you said about me was right. I did just go along with it. I just sat around for years while the Brotherhood hunted people like us. And I stayed quiet because it was safe. Easy. All those people murdered, and I didn’t lift a finger.”
Diesel glanced to the radio transmitter.
“You’re lifting a finger now,” she said. “And considering you got raised by a dead-set lunatic…” The girl shrugged. “What I’m saying is…you turned out all right, Brotherboy.”
She looked up into his eyes. Lips twisting as she offered her hand.
“You’re all right.”
Abe found himself smiling, too. Feeling a weight falling off his shoulders. The relief that came from knowing he was finally on the right side, that he’d chosen for himself what he was going to be. That even if he fell, he’d do it standing up.
“Friends?” she asked.
Taking her hand, he squeezed it hard.
“Better,” he said. “Freaks.”
“Come on,” she smiled. “Before our glorious leader starts shouting again.”
They trudged together down the hallway, through the belly of Miss O’s, the flickering lights and the concrete and metal. Abe realized in the few days he’d been here, it’d become more of a home to him than New Bethlehem had ever been.
“Sure hope I see this place again,” he sighed.
“Just make sure this bomb of yours works,” Deez replied, climbing the stairs toward the surface. “Leave getting us back here to—”
A heavy metallic boom echoed through the stairwell around them. Diesel paused in front of him, glancing upward.
“That came from up top…,” she murmured.
Another boom followed the first, the sound of metal tearing, crunching, deep thuds echoing through the earth. A burst of heavy-caliber machine-gun fire ripped through the air, making Abe jump for fright, and on top of everything else, he heard Lemon’s distant but shrill scream.
“No, stop it! STOP IT!”
Meeting each other’s eyes, Abe and Diesel broke into a run.
“Cricket, stop it!” Lemon roared.
The WarBot ignored the girl, reaching into the sundered door of Miss O’s garage. Fishing about for a moment, he finally grasped another of the jeeps parked below, dragged it out into the sunlight.
“I’m ordering you to stop!” the girl shouted.
Cricket pounded the jeep with three blows from his titanic fists, leaving it a flat and broken mess. And as Lemon bounced around him, screaming in impotent fury, he unleashed a burst of chaingun fire into the auto’s corpse for good measure.
Diesel and Abe emerged from the stairwell, breathless and wide-eyed.
“What the hell’s goin’ on here?” Diesel demanded.
“He’s gone pants-on-head insane, that’s what!” Lemon yelled.
Cricket reached into the garage again, fingers crunching through the windshield of an APC as he dragged it up into the light. Grimm and Ezekiel barreled up just in time to see him stomp on the vehicle with one massive foot, lean down and rip out its guts. And as the five of them watched dumbfounded, the big logika hurled the APC’s engine a hundred meters across the desert and blasted it from the sky with his chaingun.
“What’s all the bloody barney?” Grimm demanded.
“Paladin, I order you to stop it!” Abe roared. “We need those vehicles!”
“How’s he disobeying?” Diesel demanded.
“Is he infected?” Ezekiel asked, face paling. “Did Libertas get him?”
The logika paused in his rampage for a moment. Lemon was glaring at him, fury and confusion in her eyes, her little frame all bunched up with rage.
“I’M NOT INFECTED WITH LIBERTAS,” Cricket growled.
Lemon pouted. “Well, then—”
“FIRST OF ALL, NONE OF YOU ARE TECHNICALLY HUMAN,” the WarBot said. “SO I DON’T HAVE TO LISTEN TO A WORD YOU SAY. SECOND OF ALL, IF LEMON WERE HUMAN, BY TELLING ME TO STAY HERE AND GUARD THE FORT, SHE’S ACTUALLY PUTTING HERSELF IN DANGER, AND IN OBEYING, SO AM I, THUS BREAKING THE FIRST LAW OF ROBOTICS.” Cricket shrugged at the girl. “SO YOU’RE BONED EITHER WAY, KID.”
“So why the blue bloody hells are you smashin’ all our rides, mate?” Grimm demanded, surveying the metal carnage. “We need ’em to get to Megopolis!”
“I DIDN’T SMASH EVERY ONE. I LEFT ONE BIG ENOUGH TO CARRY ALL OF US.”
Stepping aside with a flourish, Cricket presented the dusty semi that he and Abe had ridden in from New Bethlehem. The truck was completely untouched and intact. He turned his burning optics back to Lemon.
“AND I DO MEAN ALL OF US.”
Lemon shook her head. “I already told you you’re not coming with us.”
“AND I ALREADY TOLD YOU THERE’S NO WAY I’M SITTING THIS ONE OUT.”
“It’s too dangerous!” Lemon shouted, stomping her boot into the dirt. “Those clones get near you, they’ll cook every circuit inside you, melt your core to liquid, fry every relay! Don’t you get it? You’ll be dead!”
“AND WHAT DO YOU THINK THEY’LL DO TO YOU?”
“That’s not your problem, it’s mine!”
“THIS IS A MOOT POINT, LEMON. I’VE BUSTED UP EVERY SET OF WHEELS IN THE GARAGE. THE ONLY THING CAPABLE OF GETTING YOU TO MEGOPOLIS IS THIS TRUCK, WHICH I CAN RIDE ALONG INSIDE JUST FINE. WHETHER YOU ORDER ME TO STAY OR NOT.”
He shrugged his massive shoulders.
“I’M COMING WITH YOU, KID. BETTER GET USED TO THE IDEA.”
Lemon raised her hand up between them, fingers curled into claws. In the depths of her pupils, the big logika fancied he could see curling wisps of electricity, dancing and crackling in the black. It astonished him, just how much she’d grown.
“I can short you out right here,” she said, shaking her head. “I don’t have to cook you completely. I can fry the servos in your legs so you can’t walk. Pop your optics so you can’t see. How you gonna fight then, huh?”
Cricket knelt down on the sand in front of her, peered at her intently.
“LEGLESS AND BLIND,” he said simply.
Lemon blinked at that, her eyes shining.
“BUT I’M STILL GOING TO FIGHT, LEMON,” he said softly.
“Crick, no…,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks. “They’re me, don’t you get it? If they use me to hurt you…”
“YOU COULD NEVER HURT ME, KIDDO,�
� he said. “NOT EVER. BUT I CAN’T SIT BY WHILE YOU THROW YOURSELF INTO DANGER.”
Lemon’s face crumpled like he’d kicked it in, and she slithered down to her knees in the dirt. Gentle as clouds, Cricket scooped her up in his big metal hands, cradled her against his chest. There was nothing close to a heart inside him, but still he felt it swell. He cherished it, burned it into his memcore—this tiny moment with this snotty little brat in his arms. This punk scavvergirl who’d only ever been trouble, and who he loved more deeply than he could’ve dreamed.
“WE LOOK AFTER EACH OTHER, KIDDO,” he said softly. “WE’RE FAMILY, YOU AND ME. NO MATTER WHAT. FIRST RULE OF THE SCRAP, REMEMBER?”
Lemon sniffed hard, wiped her nose on her sleeve.
“Stronger together,” she mumbled.
“TOGETHER FOREVER.”
She bumped her brow against his and sighed. “I hate you, you little fugger.”
“And I hate to bust up this feelsfest,” Diesel said softly. “But if you kids wanna get to Megopolis before nightfall, you better start fanging it.”
“She’s right,” Grimm nodded.
Diesel raised one eyebrow. “You say that like you’re surprised, Grimmy.”
As Cricket put Lemon down on the desert floor, Grimm turned to look Diesel in the eye. He breathed deep, reached out and squeezed the girl’s shoulder, obviously unsure what to say, till Diesel nodded to the battered paperback in Grimm’s cargo pocket. “You find out who Lydia ends up with yet?”
“Nah.” He shook his head. “I’ll finish it when we get back.”
“You’re a romantic fool, Master Grimm.”
“That is vicious slander, Madame Diesel.”
Lemon could see the emotion roiling behind Grimm’s eyes, the same in Diesel’s hidden by her deadpan tone, her crooked smile.
“Look after him for me, Fresh,” she said.
“I will,” the girl nodded. “Be safe out there, Deez.”
Diesel laughed, fearless. “I can teleport, Shorty. I’ll be anywhere I want.”
Figuring it was time for farewells, and never having been very good at them, Cricket held out one massive fist to Abraham. “Watch your back, okay?”
The boy bumped his small greasy fist against Cricket’s and smiled. “You too, Paladin. Seriously. I’m getting kinda tired of repairing you.”
“DID…DID YOU EVER SPEAK TO YOUR MOTHER?”
“Yeah.” Abe sighed.
Cricket nodded, thinking he understood. “FAMILY’S TOUGH, KID.”
“You can’t choose them, like the saying goes.” Abe looked up at Cricket and, squinting in the growing light, managed to find a smile. “But you can choose your friends, Paladin. And I’m glad I chose you.”
“YOU TOO, KID. BE CAREFUL OUT THERE.”
“Like Diesel says, we can teleport,” he grinned. “Keep careful for yourself.”
Abe shook Grimm’s hand. Grimm gave Cricket a crisp salute, returned with a little less formality. And Lemon sauntered over to Ezekiel, peering up into his eyes.
“Wish you were comin’ with us,” she said softly.
He waved to the flex-wing behind them, its belly laden with six warheads’ worth of nuclear mayhem. “Someone’s gotta fly this thing, Freckles. I’m not just a pretty face, you know.”
She scoffed. “Who said you were pretty?”
“You did,” he smirked. “About a dozen times or so.”
“…Oh yeah,” she pouted, tapping her lip. “And I’m an expert on pretty.”
She looked into his eyes, plastic blue framed by coal-dark lashes. He was like a little kid at that moment. Lost and crying in the rain.
“I’m sorry if I ever let you down, Freckles,” he said softly. “I’m sorry if I made mistakes. I thought I loved her. I thought maybe she’d…”
“You did love her,” Lemon said. “You trekked over the whole Yousay looking for her, Zeke. And you did the same for me after you promised not to leave me. You always tried, Dimples.” The girl shrugged. “And yeah, maybe you failed in some of it. Maybe your emotions got you suckered and used and into every kind of trouble. But thing is, you wear your heart on your sleeve for the world to see, the world is actually gonna see it. And talking true, your heart has always seemed kinda golden to me. So you don’t need to apologize to me, Zeke. It’s okay.”
Lemon opened her arms and hugged him tight, tears burning in her eyes.
“You’re only human,” she said.
“Lem, we gotta go,” Grimm murmured.
Lemon sniffed thickly, wiped her cheeks on Ezekiel’s T-shirt, looked up into the lifelike’s fugazi blue eyes.
“Make it back, okay?” she said. “Then we’ll go get her. You and me.”
The lifelike just shook his head. “She’s gone, Lemon.”
“Make it back,” she said, thumping his chest. “And we’ll see. Promise?”
Ezekiel breathed deep. “I promise.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“I see what you did there, Freckles.”
She smiled, despite the sadness in her eyes. Cricket realized that was one of the things he loved about this girl best—shining a light, even in the darkest times. Seeking the joy of it, no matter how deep it was hidden. And with a small kiss to Ezekiel’s cheek, she was dashing across the sand to the semi and jumping into the cab, with Grimm behind the wheel. Cricket trudged to the trailer, hauled himself inside, the suspension groaning protest at his weight. He looked about the compound, his glowing stare finally falling on Ezekiel. The lifelike raised one hand in farewell.
They were night and day, the pair of them. Ezekiel had helped destroy the humans that made him, and Cricket had only ever sought to protect them. Ezekiel was still struggling to find his place in the world, and Cricket knew exactly where he belonged. But Cricket supposed they were both ultimately driven by the same thing, fragile and unbreakable, impossible and mundane, something neither one of them should really have been able to comprehend.
“Look after her, Cricket,” Ezekiel said.
Love.
“COUNT ON IT,” Cricket replied.
And in that, if nothing else, he supposed they were alike.
Grimm gunned the engine. The semi shuddered beneath them. The desert stretched out before them, a barren emptiness with a whole bunch of carnage waiting at the end of it. If they could hold off the BioMaas army long enough for Ezekiel, Diesel and Abe to deliver the deathblow to CityHive, they might have a chance of putting the swarm down for good. A part of Cricket wondered if Daedalus deserved defending. He supposed if the freaks were standing at the end of it, at least they’d have a seat at the negotiation table. But that’d still leave Babel. Gabriel and Faith and Eve, who even now must be churning out more lifelikes, recruiting more corrupted logika into their army, mustering for a final strike against whoever came out on top of the coming battle.
Even if they won at Megopolis, the real war was still waiting for them.
And they had no guarantees of winning at Megopolis at all.
Diesel held up the horns in farewell.
“Remember your Darwin, freaks!” she shouted over the engines’ roar.
“Only the strong survive!” Grimm yelled in reply.
“No! Today, the strong are gonna win!”
The truck peeled out toward the rising sun, the Wall of Megopolis, the waiting swarm. And Cricket couldn’t help but wonder if any of them would be strong enough to stand against what was coming for them.
* * *
_______
Ezekiel watched the semi until it was just a smudge on the horizon. Standing still as stone beneath the rising sun. It was going to be a scorching day, and night would bring no relief—just the swarm and the bloodshed to follow. He resisted the urge to turn his stare north toward Babel. To wonder about what might have been. To rem
ember how it’d felt to sink back into her arms and feel like he was home again, if only for a moment.
Truth was, he had no home anymore. But still, he wasn’t alone. Because these kids were with him—these freaks, fighting for a world that hated them. And if they were brave enough to stand up, how could he do any less?
“How we looking?” he asked.
Abraham was inside the flex-wing, checking the warhead rig. The flier was compact, and the device wasn’t exactly small—it was going to be a squeeze for all of them to fit inside. The powercells would last if Zeke didn’t push the engines too hard. But maneuvering with all this extra weight was going to be a problem. Abe could keep some trouble off them with his telekinesis, but Zeke didn’t know what the limits of the kid’s powers actually were. He hoped his piloting skills were up to the task.
The bomb was sitting on makeshift rails—with the press of a button, it could be ejected out the flex-wing’s aft doors, tumbling downward toward destruction. Abe straightened, dragged his goggles up onto his brow and nodded.
“We’re good,” he said. “Rig looks solid.”
Diesel looked the contraption over. “ ’Kay, run us through it one more time.”
Abe held up a fist-sized metal box. “All right, this is the detonator. Safety switch is here. Secondary is here. Once both of those are off, we’re ready to rumble. The timer is adjustable. At the moment, I’ve got it rigged to blow after thirty seconds. But depending on how much trouble we run into, it might need to be shorter.”
“Explain to me why we need a detonator at all?” Deez asked. “We can’t just aim this ship at the center of the Hive, Rift out, let it crash and boom?”
“No.” Abe shook his head. “Like I said, these warheads are hard to blow up. The primary charges in the outer sphere all have to explode simultaneously, or the secondary reaction in the plutonium will just fizzle. A perfect detonation is the only way to achieve a nuclear explosion.” He shrugged. “That said, a big enough impact might set off a smaller reaction, which would definitely blow us out of the sky. I’ll keep as much trouble off us as I can.” He glanced at Zeke. “But, like, don’t get us shot.”
