by Brenda Poppy
On top of that, the areas were heavily guarded, with roaming PeaceBots patrolling the borders. But a handful of electrified gates and a few robotic soldiers couldn’t stop Scar. They could slow her down, though. And they could frustrate her to no end.
On this particular evening, she’d made her way down below the Corax End. The seedy back alleys and dirty lanes weren’t directly against the walls, but they were close enough to make a passable starting point. Within no time, she’d found herself alone, lost amongst the maze of small passageways and cramped tunnels that led to the outer limits of the city.
She checked her compass often, changing direction to correct her course. If she wasn’t careful, she could easily end up back where she’d started. There were no maps of these sinister paths, no electronic records she could follow. It was up to her to find her way through the chaos.
Coming to a tall wired fence, Scar stopped to listen. She heard no hum indicating it was electrified, but she wasn’t willing to take any chances. She’d already learned her lesson once.
Rifling through her bag, she pulled out the makeshift voltage reader she’d cobbled together from spare parts and held it to the fence, waiting impatiently for a reading. After a long pause, the device beeped, indicating it was safe. Sighing in relief, she took out another gadget – a small black tube equipped with a powerful laser cutter – and got to work carving a small, Scar-sized hole along the fence’s side. After she’d squeezed through, she replaced the portion of fence, making it whole once again.
As she was now in a restricted zone, Scar kept her movements quick and light, checking around every corner before darting out from behind it. Now more than ever, she missed Burn and her gift, how she always knew what was lurking in the darkness even before turning on the light. Without her, Scar’s own senses felt dulled, as if she had lost one of them without even realizing it.
She pushed the thought from her mind, throwing herself into the task at hand. She was close now. She could feel it.
While she’d been working, dusk had arrived. Down in the polluted bowels of the city, that didn’t mean much. The streets here were always drowned in the same murky shadows, the voracious grime clinging to everything and everyone. But it did mean that she was now breaking curfew as well as trespassing. Two crimes for the price of one. If she were caught now, the Peace Force would have no qualms about chucking her in a cell – or into the Pit. She wouldn’t be much use to Burn then.
It was quiet here, bordering on calm, but Scar knew better than to trust it. Silence didn’t mean safety; it just meant your enemies knew how to hide. And down here, there were plenty of places to hide.
Disused generators rose around her like monoliths, while hunks of old iron bridges and walkways leaned against them, creating a vertical maze to nowhere. Rats and rodents squeaked within piles of rubbish and refuse, claiming the area as their own. Even the streets petered out, disintegrating into small footpaths through the rubble. It was an eerie place, this graveyard of the past, and despite the clammy warmth she couldn’t help but shiver.
Scar picked her way through the debris, her progress slow. As she worked, the air around her subtly changed, morphing into something heavy and oppressive. It felt like the world was closing in on her, squeezing its dirty fingers around her unwelcome form. Curious, she looked up.
It wasn’t the world closing in on her after all. Peeking through the mounds of metal and brick was the gently sloping curve of the dome. The discovery spurred her on, and she increased her pace through the wreckage. Skirting a wall of rotten lumber and ducking beneath a makeshift passageway of gears, she wound her way closer and closer to the glass that encapsulated the city.
Then, almost without warning, she was standing before it. Scar had only ever glimpsed the dome from afar, its surface intangible and nearly invisible against the sky. Yet now it was right in front of her, smooth and solid and all too real. And, apparently, impenetrable.
Two layers of thick glass curved up from the ground, cemented in place and protected by a buzzing forcefield. Scar could feel its power from several feet away, her skin tingling and the hairs on her arms standing on end.
The world beyond the dome was quiet and still. Since Kasis was built on a small platform, she wasn’t level with the ground. Instead, she stood several stories above it, looking down on the sandy desert below. There was nothing out there, she realized with a shock. As far as she could see – which wasn’t far amidst the darkness and the haze – there was nothing.
Scar adjusted her goggles, tailoring their settings to the scene. Increasing the contrast and brightness, she zoomed in on the bleak landscape, scanning the area for signs of life. But there were none. The only thing to move was the sand, blown across the boundless vista by mighty gusts of wind.
There were no traces of people, no buildings, no tents, no footprints in the sand. And there were no doors or portals either, no means of entry or escape. It was a wasteland, inexpressibly desolate, a place which she could never enter – and from which Burn might never escape.
Shaking slightly, Scar walked along the edge of the dome, following the curve. There had to be a way out. There just had to be. The longer she walked, however, the more certain she was that Kasis was a fortress, an impenetrable city forever separated from the outside world. She could see no weak spots, no cracks in the façade, no way out.
Outside the dome, night had fallen in earnest. Some part of her knew that it was late, that she should be getting back. Yet she couldn’t seem to pull herself away from the wall, believing that the key to saving Burn could lie just beyond her line of sight.
She didn’t know how long she’d been walking – maybe minutes, maybe hours. The view outside never seemed to change, with the swirling sand and dunes forever beyond her reach. If she had stopped to look around, she would have realized she was lost, but she couldn’t stop. A trance had taken hold, cupping her in its thrall and coaxing her ever onward.
It was only when a thundering crash rang out behind her that she finally came to, whipping around to search for the source of the commotion.
“Halt! Trespasser!” a mechanical voice shouted, its words echoing off the piles of junk and debris. “You have broken into a restricted area. You will be detained for questioning. Stay where you are!”
Naturally, Scar ignored the PeaceBot’s warning and fled. Jumping over a low pile of bricks and rubble, she moved away from the edge of the dome and into the junkyard beyond. She couldn’t see the PeaceBot, but she knew it was close and that it could hear every sound she made. Escaping it wouldn’t be easy.
She wove around walls and under railings, up stacks of concrete and over rickety bridges, but its warnings were getting closer, stalking her through the night.
“I am authorized to use force, if necessary,” it warned in a monotone voice, enacting its brutal programming. “I am armed. If you do not cooperate, I will begin shooting.”
Scar wasn’t going to win this one – at least not if she played fair. She wasn’t fast enough to outrun this machine, nor stealthy enough to hide from it. But, thankfully, those weren’t her only two options.
She cast her eyes around for a weapon, something she could use to stun the PeaceBot and give her time to work. It wasn’t a foolproof plan, but it was all she could think of in the moment. Her eyes landed on a severed mechanical arm sticking up from a nearby heap. Taking a breath, she lunged for the pile, narrowly missing a hail of gunfire as her hands closed around the appendage’s cool surface.
Rolling over and getting to her feet, she ran, snaking between rows of rusted beams and dangling chains with her weapon clutched tightly in her arms. Sounds of bullets ricocheting off steel clanged around her as she sprinted through the perilous lanes and passages, looking for a spot to hide. She narrowly avoided tangling herself in a spider’s web of cables, sliding under it at the last second and coming to rest under a low canopy of sheet metal.
Out of breath and out of time, she lay there, waiting. It wasn’t long
before the PeaceBot came, tracking her movements like a dog with her scent. Scar pulled herself up to a crouch, her heart beating wildly. The PeaceBot neared, sensing her presence, and it sped up to catch her. That was its first mistake. And its last.
The bot ran straight into the crisscrossed cables, tangling itself in their web. Without hesitation, Scar leapt toward the robot’s back, striking it repeatedly with the mechanical arm and feeling the clangs reverberate through her body.
With a few more blows, she loosened its head and reached into the cavity, feeling for the wires that gave it life. Yanking them out, the PeaceBot slowed, then stopped, its movements frozen. Letting go of its mechanical innards, Scar slumped to the ground, her breathing ragged.
She knew she didn’t have much time. If there were other PeaceBots around, they had almost certainly heard the exchange and would be coming to scour the scene. Scar had to act fast.
Carefully, Scar removed the bot’s head unit and plugged it into her tab. Getting to work, she bypassed its firewalls and tapped into its mainframe. Her fingers moved rapidly, rewriting the bot’s core code and reprogramming its commands. She didn’t have time for a full overhaul of its systems, but she could alter just enough of the data to put the machine under her command. It was a rough job, but it would have to do.
With only seconds to spare, Scar reaffixed the head and lurched into the shadows, barely managing to stow herself before three more PeaceBots appeared on the scene. Sensing no immediate danger, they waited, poised for an update.
Scar’s nimble fingers flew over the keys as she gave her bot its first command.
“Everything is under control,” its inflectionless voice began. “There have been no trespassers here tonight. Go back to your posts.”
For a small eternity, the three bots remained immobile, digesting the new information. Then, just as quickly as they had come, they left, quietly departing in different directions to retake their posts. Scar sighed as a wave of relief washed over her. She was safe.
Now all she had to do was find her way back.
Except, as it turned out, that was easier than she’d thought. While she might not have a map of this outer wasteland, her new bot did. These machines had patrolled the area for years – maybe even decades – and were equipped with an internal diagram of its mazelike passages. All she had to do was input her destination and it would oblige, acting as her very own guide and escort. She wondered why she hadn’t thought to do this before.
The journey back took longer than she expected, and she realized just how far she’d traveled in her search for a weak point. She must have canvassed miles of the dome, finding no way through and nothing to suggest that life could survive beyond it.
For the first time since Burn had disappeared, Scar felt truly alone. What if there was nothing out there? What if Burn was, in fact, dead? It was a heartbreaking thought, and Scar wished that her father were there to tell her what she needed to do next. He’d always had a plan.
She could practically hear his voice in her mind, even after all these years. “Be strong. Stay together. Keep fighting.”
And she would. She would keep fighting until she couldn’t fight any longer. The echo of his words spurred her on, and she lifted her head to take in the world in front of her.
Almost without her notice, they’d left the city’s outer limits, with the PeaceBot granting them access into the inner streets – no electric fences required. Scar could have taken it from there, ditched the bot and found her own way home, but with the PeaceBot by her side, she had protection. The robot was her ticket home, and she stayed close behind it as it led her through the city.
Up and up they rose, steadily making their way back through dim streets and polluted alleys. Most of the world was quiet now, scared into the safety of their homes by the curfew and its enforcers. One or two stragglers still skulked about the city, drunk or high or on the hunt for an easy mark. Yet when they caught sight of the PeaceBot, they fled, scurrying back to their burrows.
Scar was growing to like her new toy.
A few tiers below Symphandra’s house, however, they ran into a different sort of problem, one that wasn’t so easily solved: Peace Officers. A pair of them emerged from around a corner, instantly spotting Scar and sauntering toward her.
“Halt! Who goes there?” one of the men shouted, gripping his holstered gun in warning. Scar kept her mouth shut and her eyes glued to the ground, letting the PeaceBot do the talking.
“I have apprehended a curfew breaker,” the PeaceBot said, following Scar’s script to the letter. “I am taking her to the station to be processed.”
The Peace Officers considered her for an inordinately long time, circling her like hungry dogs.
“I don’t know, friend,” the second officer said to the bot. “This one looks like she might be too much for you. Why not hand her over to us? We’ll make sure she gets to the station. She’ll be in extremely good hands.” He wiggled his fingers in Scar’s direction, driving home his crude meaning.
Underneath her cloak, Scar typed, feeding the bot its lines. It was a dangerous game, but unless she wanted to find herself escorted to a seedy alleyway by these two degenerates, it was a game she had to play.
“I have had no problems with this woman. She has come willingly. I thank you for your offer of assistance but will kindly decline. I have already contacted the station, and they are expecting her imminently.”
They wanted to fight back. Scar could see it in their eyes. Still, they knew better than to argue. If the Peace Station really was expecting her, then they’d never have enough time for their fun. So they gave in.
“Fine, have it your way,” the first man said, turning to leave. The second followed, but he couldn’t resist giving Scar a little slap on the backside as he passed.
A surge of anger rocketed through her, and she wanted nothing more than to knock that salacious smile off his face. Yet she kept her head down, silently signaling for the PeaceBot to move. It did as it was bid, taking her away from the officers and their dangerous ideas.
Scar’s skin crawled as she considered how close she had come to being their plaything. All she wanted now was to go home, to lose herself in her work, to forget that a world existed outside her door.
Coming up to Symphandra’s house, Scar unlocked the door and dashed inside to safety. A moment later, the PeaceBot followed.
Chapter 10
“No,” Hale said firmly, his tone resolute. “I don’t want you poking around in my head.”
“Please?” Burn all but begged. They had been having this conversation for a quarter of an hour, and his answer hadn’t changed. “I just need practice. I won’t hear anything you don’t want me to.”
She didn’t know that for certain. In fact, she still had no clue how her radiation-enhanced gift worked. It wasn’t like there was a manual for mind reading, a beginner’s guide to telepathy. But if she didn’t try to explore its limits, she would never learn what she was capable of. And it was best to start with a willing volunteer.
“I know you better than I know anyone else here,” she tried, hoping this line of reasoning would work where the others had failed. “There’s a reason I heard you first. We’re connected. We have a history.”
“It doesn’t matter. My thoughts are my own. They’re private.” Hale glared at her coolly, a warning in his eyes. Most people would have backed down at a look like that – especially when coming from someone like Hale – but Burn wasn’t like most people. She wasn’t afraid of him.
“Well I’m going to hear them anyway. If I don’t practice, I’ll keep hearing random thoughts that run through your head, which could be anything,” she warned. “But if you help me, I’ll be able to control it. I can put up a barrier so I don’t hear anything I shouldn’t.”
He grumbled under his breath, less a word than a growl. Burn could tell she was wearing him down.
“Hale, please. I need to learn about my father, and Imber isn’t going to tell me th
e truth, not willingly,” she explained, trying to drive him that last little bit to acceptance. “He wants to keep us here. We’re useful. He won’t like it if we go looking for a way back. If I can hear what he’s thinking, though, I can learn anything he doesn’t want us to know – about my father, about getting back to Kasis. All of it. It could be our key to getting home. But I won’t be able to look into his mind if I don’t know how!”
Hale put his head in his hands. With him seated on the bed and Burn pleading before him, the scene was so domestic that they almost seemed like a real couple. Almost.
“And what if I don’t want to go back?” Hale asked, refusing to look at her.
Burn had been afraid of this. She’d also come prepared. “This isn’t about what we want,” she said, settling herself beside him. “It’s about doing what’s right. We may be free of the Peace Force’s tyranny, but what about the tens of thousands who aren’t? Sure, staying here would be easy. We wouldn’t have to fight to get through the day. Yet we would have to live with the fact that we abandoned those people just so we could live a comfortable life.”
Hale didn’t move, and she couldn’t tell if she was getting through to him, so she continued, “I’m going. Whether you help me or not, I’m going. You can come if you’d like, but I won’t force you. I won’t wait for you to make up your mind, either. If I have to leave you behind, I will. But my fight is there – my life is there – and I won’t stop until I find a way back.”
The pair lapsed into silence as Hale considered her words. Burn wanted him by her side. He had become a friend, an ally, and he had proven himself loyal. Still, she meant what she’d said: She wouldn’t wait for him. They had wasted too much time already. It was time for action.
Hale shifted his position beside her, and she looked up, hopeful.
