I can’t speak. I just nod.
“Then he deserved—this,” she says. “Anyone who’d deign to force you against your will deserves this. Do you hear me?”
I do, I think. But still, my brain is foggy. I can’t think around what’s just happened. This is the father of my daughter. Was. But he also wasn’t, not really.
The general instructs me to take a long shower and promises that everything will be cleaned up and “back to normal” once I’m done.
After the shower, I step back into my room, and she didn’t exaggerate. Other than the Blair-bot standing at my door, everything looks the same in my room.
Clean new sheets, not a drop of blood anywhere.
I get dressed quickly and stand beside the bed, knowing that I’ll never be able to sleep in it again.
Then I turn to Blair’s bot and walk straight up to him as his blank eyes watch me. I stand in front of him. “I promise you,” I say. “I’ll get that thing out of you. I promise you I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I step out of the room, not instructing him to do anything. I don’t have to guess that the general’s already programmed him to follow me, to be my guide, to watch over me from now on.
I try to fight the irony of that as I head to the cells on the southwest corner of the compound where I know they—we—have Sanaa and Franklin cooped up.
When I approach the cell, the typical glass enclosure that is the Metrills’ signature prison, I’m relieved that they’re at least held together.
They both run up to the glass, placing their palms against it as they stare at Blair’s bot behind me.
Franklin’s already enraged, yelling obscenities at me, but Sanaa stands still, watching.
I walk right up to the glass with tears in my eyes.
“I’ll fix this,” I say to them, not knowing if they can hear me past Frankie’s screams. “I’ll find a way, I promise.”
Sanaa shakes her head from side to side as she places a hand on Franklin’s shoulder. She looks at me with tears in her eyes and shakes her head again. “You make sure he has a peaceful transition,” she says as she turns to hold Frankie in her arms.
No! I want to yell. It isn’t happening. Blair’s not going to die. I’ll get this thing out of him, I will. But I know neither one of them will listen to me. So I turn away, with Blair on my heels.
I’ll figure something out. We walk aimlessly around the compound, not wanting to head back to my quarters. I have to find a way. I can’t kill him. I just can’t.
Still, I watch him from the corner of my eye—this new calm bot-version of Blair. Can he even feel or think under there? Is there still a part of him aware of what’s happened? Because of one thing I’m certain, he’d sooner die. I would, if our roles were reversed. Would he do it? Would he help me?
I remember once trying to remove the thing from a small rodent’s brain. First I mapped what they had done and as complicated as it was, as careful as I was, it would have been fine. And it was fine, for about two days. Then it suffered a stroke and died violently from what I can only imagine was a painful death as it bled from all of its orifices. I’d never cried so hard over an animal’s death.
Still, I stroll around until I find a group of Metrills at a table.
They all watch me approach and two even offer warm smiles.
The first thing I say is, “Fix him. Fix him now, or kill us both.”
Their eyes alight on Blair’s bot, then back on me again.
“I know you can do it,” I say, remembering Stealth, the bear that they’d held in the old Metrill station in the north. He was one of many animalbots the Sorens had created.
The Metrills were collecting them all, slowly but eventually releasing the animals of the bots the Sorens had implanted to their brains. I know most of those animals survived. I know it.
“You do it,” I say. “Please, you’ve got to.” My voice cracks on the last few words. “You’ve got to.”
I came in here, meaning to demand them, threaten them, do whatever it takes. So when one Metrill stands up, I stand in front of Blair in defense, but she moves past me with a soft smile.
“We will try,” she says in that way that they speak. I know they don’t need to talk to each other—they can communicate easily enough using their minds. But I’m not one of them.
Still, “we will try” reverberates in my mind, and though I know it’s not a guarantee, it’s much better than the alternative. Before she walks away with Blair in tow, I move towards him and hold him in my arms. Then I turn and kiss him softly on the cheek. “I promise Blair,” I whisper, “that we will finish off what we started.” Then I kiss him again and let him walk away.
The words are his, I remember them fondly. I hope they’re enough for now.
I turn to the rest of the Metrills.
The general stands in the doorway and watches me, a soft smile on her lips. She and I will lead the people on our new home on the moon, building our communities, making a new life for ourselves.
The Metrills will watch over us of course, making sure we don’t fall in the usual human traps of Earth. There’s a tiny part if me that’s hopeful to see what we can do together, us and them, and all the people the general had released from the EPrison.
I guess we’re partners now. I touch the small locket around my neck. For now, a small voice in my head says.
For now.
Epilogue
Three months later, the general stares at me from behind the glass enclosure of her prison.
“You know,” she says, “everything I’ve done was for us, for our family name. I only ever wanted what was best for us.”
“I know,” I say automatically, before I remember to bite my tongue. I don’t empathize with her. I can’t. “Though, General. I think you really just do everything for you. You don’t speak for the Mason name—not anymore.”
She laughs. “Whoever gets to live,” she admits, “gets to speak for the name. Gets to tell our story.”
I remember Rosemary Mason’s memories and know she was nothing like my mother. Not really anything like me either. At least I’m not like my mother. The more I delve into Rosemary Mason’s memories with the help of the Metrills, the more I’m convinced of that.
Mother stares at me. “Don’t try to tell yourself that you would have done differently, Romy,” she says. “You think you’re better than me?”
That I don’t expect. But I remember this is the woman who had my father killed. My daughter—
I nod slightly as she smirks back at me and then tilts her head to the right. She thinks I am a lot like her. I fight the thought, but there it is.
Still, the Metrills have given us—humans—a chance by bringing some of us with them. They must see there’s hope yet. I see hope, I see something promising in the people saved from the EPrison, all working and living together in harmony like they did in prison. I see the way Mazz is with Sophie. He was a killer once, he would have killed her. But I don’t know anyone who loves their kid as much as he loves her. I thought I’d lost all hope once, but it’s still there.
I touch the locket around my neck as the general’s eyes land on it and back to me again.
She sits still in her chair, her hands on her lap. As they go rigid, I know the Freeze serum has finally worked, which means the Truthser will be ready too. It never takes long.
So I stand and place a hand on the button that sucks the glass enclosure into the floor. I pause in front of her as she stares ahead, her eyes watering.
Her eyes don’t budge from mine. As much as I’d love to walk away, I know that’s not an option. I know better than to start my new life with the Status Quo, with her still very much a part of it.
So I say, “General, are you the one who had Abigail killed?”
I already know the answer before she replies. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind the same day I found out Blair, Frankie and Sanaa were all part of Axiom.
“I did order the hit,” she admits, “but I
wasn’t planning—rather—I was hoping it wouldn’t come to that, to her being killed. But then I knew if she died, you’d be thoroughly wrecked, and I could handle you better. It had to be done. I had to be able to manipulate you, by any means necessary.”
She’s rambling now, the Truthser pulling every thought out of her like pus oozing from a wound.
She can’t stop anymore than I can stop the burning rage in my chest. I knew all this of course, it’s hardly new to me. Still, hearing it from her mouth, in her own words, turns my insides to lead.
“General,” I interrupt. “For the crime of committing murder, against Father, and Abigail, and thousands of others, I hereby sentence you to death. You don’t deserve to live another day.”
Then, without hesitation, I pull out the syringe containing poison and inject it into the side of her neck as the water in her eyes pool and spill over onto her cheeks.
I keep my hands as steady as I can, but there’s no avoiding the slight tremor in them as I drop the syringe and take a step away from her.
“You’ll never be able to forgive yourself,” she whispers as the poison works through her system. “I promise you. You’ll never forget me or forgive yourself for this. I know, because—because you’re like me. The guilt will kill you. It will—”
She struggles to continue and swallows painfully, then closes her eyes as her chin rests on her chest.
I don’t turn around right away. I’m nothing like her.
After several minutes, making sure her breaths have stilled for good, I walk around the corner, knowing that the Metrills will have her cremated as instructed, knowing that it’s over.
I turn another corner to find Sanaa and Frankie hugging and talking to what I only see as the back of Blair’s body.
I’d begged, pleaded, threatened the Metrills to fix him. Three months later, and here he is. Sanaa and Frankie both give me a swift hug and peck on the cheek, then disappear around yet another corner. Probably off to find some work to do with the Metrills.
They’ve given me so much leeway, I’m a tad uncomfortable with how much influence I’m having on decisions they make, just because—what? I’m their key to even more secrets from their deities? But I’ll take it—for now.
I turn to face Blair and his eyes move slightly to look down at me. His arms stay still by his sides. There’s a blankness to him, like he’s here but not really here. I fight tears that prick at my eyes, threatening to pool and fall down my cheeks. I try hard not to cry in front of people.
But this isn’t really Blair is it?
I raise a hand to hover over the bald spot over the left side of his head, where I once admired his soft wisps of silvery black hair. Now it’s all gnarled skin and wiry thread where the Metrills removed the bot, fixed his brain, and left him to look like a Soren experiment gone wrong.
I don’t have anything to say to this new blank Blair. Is he in there somewhere? I whisper, “Blair. Can you hear me? Can you understand me?”
His eyes stay on me, still blank. Then he swallows, and it looks like the most painful thing he’s done in a long time.
When he doesn’t speak for several minutes, I think all’s lost. I lower my head and hand. I reach out to his, and hold on tight, wondering if any of this was worth it.
I touch his fingers lightly, meaning to take him back to my quarters. Meaning to help him transition. I know how to make it painless.
“You—” he says. My eyebrows shoot up and I see a pinprick light shimmer in his right eye.
“Blair?” I inch closer. If I can just see a hint of him in there—
He swallows again. “You saved my life again.”
I smile as that devilish look comes back to his eyes though it takes a while longer to reach the rest of his face. My heart leaps so hard in my chest, it hurts.
“How much do I owe you for all this?” he says.
The words aren’t quite right and I see he’s fighting to speak—he has a ways to go. But he’s here!
“Nothing,” I whisper, as I reach my arms around him to give him a tight hug.
He slightly pushes on me until I stand a foot away and stare back into his eyes again. They look even more alive than they did a minute ago.
“So you know,” he says, “I mean to make it all up to you in kisses.”
Then he tilts my chin up as he smiles down at me. “We’ve got to finish all that we started,” he says, leaning further in.
Before I have time to lose myself in his eyes, I mentally list everything we do need to finish.
The Metrills have started building more compounds on the surface of the moon. The people from EPrison are working hard—as they do—to get it all ready so that we can settle in and start anew.
We’ve grown accustomed to seeing storms on the Earth’s surface and know we’ll never see her beautiful greenery again in our lifetimes but we’ve made a promise that our descendants will take better care of her one day.
I’m busy compiling human history as it stands to date, so that they know everything we did had to be done. There’s a lifetime of work waiting for me.
Then there’s the general, I think, fighting the stream of remorse trying to leak its way past my relief.
Not to mention the shaking in Blair’s arms—so much work still, before we can get him back to normal.
Right before Blair’s lips touch mine, he says, “Rome. You’re overthinking it again.”
Then he finally kisses me and doesn’t stop kissing me until there are no thoughts but one left in my head.
THE END
Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed ROMY’S LAST STAND [Book III of the 2250 Saga]—and I hope you did—please consider leaving a review on Amazon. Click here. There’s nothing more powerful than word of mouth. And please, tell your friends. Thank you!
About the Author
Nirina is a reader, occasional country-hopper, and novelist. She inhales psychological suspense, mystery, horror, speculative fiction and the odd comedy.
Her writing may or may not touch on all of the above.
She is one of those rare Canadians who hates snow but loves a stormy summer rain. That’s led her to live in Sydney Australia with her hubby, two awesome kids, and one crazy Tortie kitten.
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www.nirinastone.com
Copyright © 2016 by Nirina Stone
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the express written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover Design by Shardel (Selfpubbookcovers)
Edited by Laura Kingsley (any mistakes are the author’s alone.)
ASIN: B01KTEWMNY
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Synopsis
Dedication
Bridge
Ceremony
Silence
Listening
Liberty
Truths
Enemies and Allies
Peace
Trapped
Blair
Plans
Wrench
Out Of The Frying Pan…
…Into The Fire
The Enemy Of My Enemy
The Beast Down Deep
Eaten
Equator Prison
Sharks
General Populace
The Calm Before
Working
The Vorkian
The Vault
Prison
Meditation
Saviour
Fallen
Back
Friends
Team
Onwards
Metrills
You Must Kill Them
Escape
Strohm
THE END
About the Author
Copyright © 2016 by Nirina Stone
Romy's Last Stand: Book III of the 2250 Saga Page 22
