Romy's Last Stand: Book III of the 2250 Saga

by Stone, Nirina

  “Anyway,” Strohm says, “I’m off to brief the general on all this. Will you be all right?”

  “Yes,” I say. I’m hardly “all right” but have no interest in discussing anything with him. “I just need to sit here with my thoughts for a while.”

  “Okay.” Strohm stands and gives me a quick peck on the forehead. “We’ll find out how to connect with the Metrills too,” he says as he opens the door.

  The Metrills. They need me. So why haven’t they contacted me? I know their plan with the ‘Atlantis Project’ wasn’t immediate, but surely they want to get that going sooner than later? What are they waiting for?

  As I mull over it, I realize Strohm hasn’t closed the door behind him yet. A drone floats in the air above him as he gives it codes and instructions before it floats into the middle of my room.

  “What is that for?” I ask, looking at the drone’s blinking orange light suspiciously. That’s new.

  I’ve only ever come across two types of drones here: the purple light ones that fly around Liberty, ensuring people are not in public after curfew; and the blue light drones that follow Strohm and me around for an hour a day, recording our happy Soren lives to be edited and shared with all dwellers of Apex.

  To show them that we are happy together leading as we promised, fair and open and not at all like the Prospo.

  “For security,” Strohm says. “It will stay with you twenty four seven. Or, at least, until it needs to be charged, then another one will take over.”

  Twenty four seven? “Are you serious?” I ask, my eyes moving from the drone to Strohm’s eyes, and back to that orange blinking light. Then I notice another one in the hallway behind him. I guess it will be his security.

  “I’m going to be watched all day and all night by this—by this thing?” I ask.

  “Well,” Strohm says, “I would rather have someone with you. A bodyguard. This is far more efficient.”

  “And what exactly will happen if I am attacked with this thing around?” I ask. Before I finish my sentence, Strohm whips around to stand behind me, his arm around my shoulders.

  I know he won’t hurt me but the drone emits a series of high-pitched beeps then something pops out from its bottom, a weapon the size of my little finger.

  My heart speeds up, wondering if Strohm’s about to get shot just for demonstrating this thing’s capabilities, but he moves away from me. The drone beeps once more and puts away the gun.

  “It won’t miss,” he says. “It’s not fallible. Like humans.”

  “Strohm,” I say. “You can’t seriously think I’m okay with this.”

  When he’d first told me about the blue-light drones that would follow us around for two to three hours a day, recording everything we did, I hid under my blankets, meaning never to get out again until he got rid of them.

  The compromise was that they would only follow us for an hour. Even then, I rebelled. When I complied for a change, simply by showing off my growing belly to the people outside our home, we finally had a full day of peace in Liberty.

  They seemed to calm down the more open I was about our life, about how we led Liberty, about our difficulties and our celebrations.

  And so the blue-light drones stayed. An hour out of my day to share with the people of Liberty wasn’t so bad. They did fall in love with Abigail right along with us.

  But—this—?

  “I need to keep you safe, Romy,” he says. “This is the way to do it. I can’t have the Axiom taking you away from me too.”

  Tears pool in his eyes again and I know he’s picturing me with Abigail in my arms, blood splattered all over us.

  “But twenty four hours a day?” I say. “I thought you were confident the Axiom aren’t here on the ship. So—”

  “So I’d rather be safe,” he says. “Wouldn’t you?”

  No. I’d rather be left alone. Before I can answer, he takes my silence as acceptance.

  He steps in to give me another kiss on the forehead and he’s out the door.

  I walk to the balcony, looking out across the trees below and the still ocean beyond that. The sun’s set already, but there’s barely any moonlight, and all of Liberty is covered in darkness across the water.

  Come on, Father. Contact me, come on. I have to figure out how to get in touch with the Metrills. Then end all this for once and for all.

  When a soft whirr reaches my ears, I look up to the right and a drone flies ahead, its bottom lens on me as it spins slightly in place, its other lens scanning the area around us.

  I already decide I have to get rid of this thing, but I don’t move. I watch it suspiciously as I walk into my quarters. It won’t follow me inside. Not until I decide to walk somewhere else away from its prying lens. But I know, even as I stand here, it will have an eye trained on me.

  So much for taking my nightly stroll in the dark. Normally drones need five hours a day to recharge but if this one has another lined up to work while it rests, I don’t have much to work with.

  I step out to the balcony and reach up to the drone. It lets me touch it gently, but when I retract my arm swiftly to swat it, it floats away without making a sound.

  Hmm. Strohm’s clearly smart enough to know I’ll try to take it out. Not that I haven’t given him reason to be cautious. He’d remember all the drones I took apart in Haven.

  All right, you win. Tonight. In the daytime, after I’ve had a good night’s rest, we’ll see who’s boss.

  I tuck myself into bed, working through ideas on how to handle it in the morning.

  Liberty

  I wake up slowly, stretching all my limbs and breathing in the fresh morning air flowing into my room.

  My right hand reaches under my pillow, grasping the hilt of the knife there.

  I’d started keeping one since day one of coming back to Liberty, though I’m not entirely sure why.

  It does make me feel safe though, except the moments when I’ve woken up from a nightmare and wasn’t able to feel it under the pillow.

  Not last night, I realize.

  It’s the first time since Abigail’s death that I didn’t have the nightmare. Then, remembering that I’m not alone, I pull the blanket up over my eyes and stay still.

  If not for the soft whirr of the drone, I wouldn’t know it was about five feet away from my bed, to my right. It’s probably facing me head-on now that it knows I’m awake.

  Okay, think. It’s fast, I know that. Everything I know about drones tells me that it will stay by my side no matter what. If it is taken off for any reason, another will take its place within minutes. How many minutes, I don’t know. But we have enough of these things waiting for their turn. There are probably over a hundred, if I know Strohm.

  So I wait for a moment, thinking through my actions before finally deciding. No more delays. This is it.

  I jump to action, throwing the blanket over my head, and on to the drone. It’s already moved up and away, but I accounted for that. I jump high in the air, wrapping the loose blanket around the thing and slam it into the ground as hard as I can, meaning to disable it.

  I know it won’t hurt me. Its priority is to keep me safe—harming me is not part of its programming.

  Still, I wonder if Strohm knows just how easy it is to attack the thing. What if a mob of people were coming at us and one attacks it from behind?

  I don’t think about it too hard, for its obvious weakness is to my benefit right now. It beeps once and lies still and I’m tempted to make a run for it, but I know it’s not time yet. I count quietly in my head until another, identical drone whirs into my room from the window.

  Okay. That would be three minutes. It stays still in the air, its eye on me as its other fifty eyes take in the room and everything that’s going on outside my window.

  Three minutes. That tells me the drones are likely deployed from somewhere on land rather than from the ship.

  I’d be able to make it downstairs within three minutes, as long as I run for it. But there
are far too many factors at play that I may not be able to account for.

  Such as how long the veda would get to me? Or how many other people are around?

  I wouldn’t have qualms about pushing them out of my way, but with that many eyes on me, who knows how fast Strohm will be told of my plans? Who knows if any of them think it’s their responsibility to stop me from going? I have to think of another way to do this.

  I already know that I can’t jump straight from my balcony into the open ocean. The curved edge of the boat is thirty feet away from me, not to mention the trees. There’s only one other thing I can think of doing, but I have to move now, if I’m to make it out of here in time.

  I keep the new drone in my peripheral vision as I walk towards my closet to change into my day clothes. Not my usual day clothes, but comfortable and loose enough for today’s activities. I slip my short metal sticks into my sleeves, snug against my forearms.

  As the drone whirs and floats in the air, I step into the tiny bathroom that takes up one tenth of the space in my quarters. I know the drone won’t follow me. At least I have some privacy there, I think. Still, I yell just enough for it to make its way quickly towards me.

  As it rounds the corner to scan the bathroom, I jump and grab it. It bumps the low ceiling in its attempt to get away from me but I swiftly turn and push it into the bathroom, shutting the door closed as it whirs closer to me.

  Then, as I count again, I run to the balcony and reach my arms up to pull myself up and over to the balcony of the person living above me.

  I yell, “Stop!” before she manages to scream. “It’s just me, Suze,” I say. “Just me. Calm down.”

  Susan Willis stares at me from the middle of her bed, holding her blankets around her and her pregnant body. I keep my hands in front of me and smile, giving her my best one yet. The last thing I need is to shock her into having that child early.

  “Romy M—I mean, Lady Mason,” she breathes as her hands loosen and the blanket falls to her lap. At least she no longer sees me as a threat.

  “Come now, Suze,” I say. “Let’s drop the formality. I’ll be helping you change that baby’s diapers soon enough. Eh?” I keep my voice calm, knowing that I’m running out of time.

  Her eyes dart to the balcony and back to me again, but I know there’s no drone behind me. The next one in line will show up where the last one saw me last.

  “I’m just—trying out a new exercise routine,” I say, not convinced with my own lie but not being able to think of anything else for now.

  Just as all the other people in our circle, Susan has seen me plenty of times with my dances and jogging and training routines all over the place. They’re used to my “eccentricities“ by now, as Strohm likes to call them.

  Still, I don’t have much time to convince her either way, so I say a quick, “Bye!” and run out her doors straight to the vedas that will take me to the top floor.

  Beyond that, I haven’t planned far, but I know the drones will be busy looking for me elsewhere. I’ve got a few minutes.

  I reach the top and look around, not seeing anyone else around.

  Edging to the northern corner of the boat, I know the trees are on the opposite side from here. I’m facing the dock and the buildings across the way. And a fifty foot drop to the nearest land.

  Okay, think think think.

  As I walk the perimeter, I see my chance—I need to climb down one corner of the boat. It’s far enough away from the nearest windows, and faces the water so chances are good no one will witness me scrambling down.

  I hurry to the edge and flip my legs over as I hang on to a rope on the side. I should have brought gloves. I wrap my hand around the rough material of the rope.

  I head down slowly, using the rope to abseil along the side of the boat. All I hear is the soft sound of water as it laps and rocks the boat and within minutes, I jump down the remaining ten feet to land on the dock.

  Looking up and around me, I see no one. So I jog my way south, towards Liberty. I already know the panic that Strohm and company will be in when they realize I’ve escaped. They’ll send someone looking for me, but it will be clear I wanted to head off on my own and no one came to kidnap me. It’s not the first time. I’ll figure out a way to deal with all that later.

  My appointment’s in a half hour so I decide to make my way the long way through town, losing myself in the crowd and listening as they sell their wares and go about their morning. This is a far different world than Prospo City was before we destroyed it.

  Where the streets were once quiet, empty, so clean one could eat food off the ground, this new place is always noisy, always crowded, with a permanent layer of dust and grime on the roads, vehicles, even on the people. What a difference a matter of two to three years makes.

  It’s not even all that dirty, really, but there’s an undercurrent of something undesirable and unclean. It throbs like a sore spot under the surface of the skin.

  It’s amazing how fast we’ve gone from a dust-free P-City to this, jumping over blood in the streets like it’s mud. We don’t stop to worry about a how or a why or when. We simply keep moving along, hoping we’re not next.

  And then the people. They’re always in a hurry now, even the Prospo are, as if they can’t bear to be caught in one spot for too long.

  I pull my hair into a low ponytail and tuck it under my hoodie, shove my hands into my pockets and walk with my head tilted down.

  If anyone looks at me too closely, they’d recognize me in a hurry. But my posture and stride is good enough, for me to lose myself in the crowd. I’ve never had an issue walking through here before. They’d never expect a Leader walk amongst them. Why would they?

  We’re all the same here, all Sorens and Prospo and Citizens alike. The only thing to distinguish us if looked too closely is the thin line of tattooed numbers on some of the Prospo’s cheeks. If they spent any time in Azure or Equator Prison and subsequently released, they’re marked with the tatt. It’s something the Sorens decided was necessary, as part of what the Prospo owe us for the awful lives we had to live under their rule.

  It’s one of the dumbest things they’ve decided, but my objections went unnoticed. It’s not like I’m one of the ‘real’ Leaders, after all. It’s not like I have a say in what happens to Prospo prisoners.

  As I walk, I pass by a tall man standing on a makeshift podium of dirty crates. He’s dressed in an oversized brown robe, much like one I used to see worn by Sorens who bid on Level C females back at Azure Prison. I hasten my pace, but his voice is loud enough to reach me even as I turn the corner to walk onto a paved street. A large group of people walk towards me though, making me turn right back around. In a group that big, I’d have a better chance of getting recognized. So I blend in and walk back towards the man on his makeshift podium.

  “Open your eyes!” he yells ahead of me. “It’s all fake you see! Open your eyes before it’s too late.”

  Other people walk up to him and pause, watching him as he throws his arms in the air.

  “The Great Omni was fake! The Omega is fake! Our Leaders are fake! Repent now, for the end is near!”

  It’s not the first time I’ve heard this out here amongst the people.

  Still I wonder if he’s hit with one of the illnesses that reappeared after we brought down Prospo City. It certainly sounds like he’s not quite right in the head. What is ‘The Omega’?

  Whatever it is, he looks around, eyes wide, as he realizes he’s losing our interest.

  Some of the crowd starts to disperse and I decide this is my time to disappear too.

  “The truth is, it hasn’t happened yet!” he yells. “Our apocalypse is yet to come. Just ask her!”

  And he points down to where I stand.

  Truths

  My eyes get big as about twenty other people turn around to stare.

  My heart hammers in my throat and my hands go slick with sweat.

  Oh you idiot. I was far more careful before, but t
oday, my confidence will be my undoing.

  What in the world made me think they’d actually not recognize me? With my face plastered on their screens. Every. Single. Day. For the last two years! Stupid stupid stupid—

  “Go on,” he continues, “ask her. She knows what I’m talking about, don’t you?”

  I tilt my chin up slightly and look to my right, but I realize the people aren’t turning to look at me.

  They’re focused on someone behind me, to my left. For a second, I’m tempted to just run in the opposite direction. But I know that would bring even more attention than I need. So I turn to stare at whoever the people are facing.

  It’s a Metrill, I realize immediately. It has to be, since no adult Soren or Prospo or Citizen can be this short.

  She’s about four foot two. Her hair is a curly wad of tangled mess, and she’s dirty, in a way no Metrills would deign to be, other than the girl I couldn’t save—I shake my head slightly to keep her out of my thoughts.

  The Metrill next to me is dressed in a robe similar to the man’s on the podium, but it’s been cut to fit her better.

  Two others stand beside her, holding on to the metal restraints that have her hands held in front of her with the fingers clasped tight together.

  Though she’s not a Metrill I’d seen at their home in the mountain in the north.

  How? I wonder. How in the world did they catch a Metrill out here? And why do they have her restrained like this? I’m inclined to fight my way past them and take her to bring her back to the Elysium, but I’m outnumbered here. I look at the stun guns her guards carry. They’re set to kill, there’s no doubt.

  “She knows,” the man yells, “about our future and our future is bleak. Tell them!” His voice is even louder now, as impossible as that may seem. “Tell them what you told me! Tell them what’s about to happen! Tell them who you are!”

  That’s when her chin pops up and her tiny grey eyes watch him through slits. She’s not afraid. That’s something.