by Brenda Poppy
“How does she know?” he thought, the words getting louder as his tension and anger mounted. “He left. I thought I was rid of him.”
“He left?” Burn queried. “Where did he go? Why did he leave Videre?”
Imber stared at her, his mouth open. She realized she’d shown her hand and revealed her gift, but she didn’t care. She just wanted answers, and it didn’t matter how she got them.
“You’re like him,” Imber said, his eyebrows knitting together in bewilderment. “You can hear secrets.”
“What?” Burn shot back, the confusion knocking her off course. Her father had been a master at discovering secrets, not hearing them. “What do you mean I’m like him? What could he do? And what happened to him?”
Imber’s mind was a jumble now, a mess of memories and biting comebacks and denial. He was arguing with himself, trying to decide whether or not to lie – and whether or not she could detect it if he did.
“It’s no use pretending, Imber,” she warned. “If you try to keep something from me, I’ll hear it. I’ll know the second you even consider it. So you might as well tell me everything.” It was possible she was overselling her abilities, but he didn’t need to know that.
Imber rose and turned, breaking eye contact with her to peer out the window.
“He wasn’t here long – a week, maybe two,” Imber started, his voice distant. “We didn’t find him at the Pit. He found us. One day, he simply walked through the gates and into the city. I don’t know how long he’d been out there, but the desert had taken its toll.”
Burn could see it in her mind as he spoke. She didn’t know if it was her vision or Imber’s, but it played in such detail, telling the story she’d sought for so long.
“He asked to see the person in charge, and someone brought him to me,” Imber continued, still not looking at Burn. “He told me his sad tale – about his daughters back in Kasis and how he needed to get back. I told him what I tell everyone: There’s no way back. But, much like you, he didn’t believe me.
“He didn’t seem like a particularly useful addition to the city. Most of the people here have a rather negative view of Peace Officers. And he didn’t seem to be gifted, at least not in any way I could see. I was about to have him escorted out of the city when he asked me point blank who Mags was. Yet I hadn’t mentioned her. I hadn’t told him a thing about myself, but he knew her name. I thought it was a fluke, that maybe he’d heard about her around the city, but he kept going, revealing more and more about me.”
“He could read your thoughts?” Burn asked, enthralled by the story.
“More like he could read my secrets,” Imber said, shaking his head. “At that point I hadn’t even admitted my feelings for Mags to myself, but he read them like I was an open book. It was as if he could see anything you wanted to hide simply by looking into your eyes.”
The resemblance to Burn’s gift was uncanny. Back in Kasis, he’d been normal, for lack of a better word. He’d been skilled at sleuthing, adept at uncovering the truth, but it wasn’t a gift – at least not one like Burn’s. The atmosphere in the wildlands must have changed that, just like it had changed her.
“I thought he could be useful,” Imber continued, turning back around and settling himself in the wide windowsill. “Having someone who could uncover secrets would give us an advantage with the other camps, make sure they weren’t trying to pull anything over on us. So I let him stay.”
“I should have tossed him right back out,” he thought coldly, but Burn decided not to comment. She wanted to hear the rest of the story, to discover what had become of her father and why he’d never made it back to them.
“It turns out he wasn’t looking for a new home. He was looking for people to join him. And his newfound gift allowed him to find just what he was searching for. He located every single person that had ever wanted to return to Kasis, and he convinced them that he could make it happen. He told them they could finally see their families again, everyone they’d left behind when they were exiled. And they believed him.”
Imber massaged his temples with his fingertips, as if the memories hurt to recall. Burn could see why that might be the case. Videre was his family, and her father had wanted to break it into pieces.
“So what happened?” Burn asked, eager to hear the story’s conclusion. “Did they go? Did they find a way back in?”
Imber shrugged, sighing loudly. “From what I gathered, he thought that if they had more people, it would be easier to find a way back into the city. So he set off for one of the nearby camps to get more recruits. He told everyone he would be back within a few weeks, but he never returned. He either died or got captured or went back without them. Or the whole thing was a joke to begin with and he never intended to return.”
Burn got defensive at that, her temper flaring. “If he said he was coming back for them, then he planned to come back. He wouldn’t have intentionally left them. He was a man of his word.”
“He was a Peace Officer,” Imber countered angrily, spitting out the words like they were poison in his mouth. Checking himself, he took a deep breath, then another before finishing his story. “I don’t know what happened. I was just glad to be rid of him. He was a danger to this city and our people.”
Burn scanned his mind for lies or omissions, but she found none. He was telling her the truth – or at least his version of it.
“Thank you,” she said stoically as she rose from her seat and made her way to the door.
As she was about to leave, his voice stopped her. “What are you going to do?” His tone held a note of warning. While he may have given her the information she was searching for, he wasn’t about to give in and let her take over her father’s plan. His thoughts were clear on that point.
“I’m going to find out what happened to him. And I’m going to figure out what he had planned,” she said simply.
Burn heard Imber move behind her, and she felt his presence at her back. Yet she didn’t turn around.
“I will fight to keep my people,” he whispered down to her. “If you try to break up this city, I will break you.”
Burn turned around at that, shocked by the nearness of Imber’s face to hers. Yet she didn’t flinch. Instead, she inched even closer before responding.
“Is that your definition of ‘peace and freedom’?” she asked, using his own words against him. “Why not let your people decide their own fate? If you can’t even do that, how is Videre any better than Kasis?” With that question hanging in the air, she turned around and walked out the door.
She could really use that beer now.
Chapter 11
PeaceBots were the solution. Scar couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. The answer had been staring her in the face. Literally. The PeaceBot she’d abducted had been looking to her for instructions since the moment she’d put its reconfigured head back onto its body. Even back at Symphandra’s house it just sat there, staring at her. It was unnerving.
She’d already written the code that would bend the bots to her command. It was essentially the same thing Raqa had done to the two PeaceBots they’d reprogrammed together, albeit with a few improvements. There were certain things that she hadn’t shared with Raqa. It was always useful to have a few secrets up your sleeve.
All she needed to do now was get her hands on more PeaceBot units. Then she could alter their core imperatives, changing them from spies to scouts. Equipped with her own army of explorer bots, she could canvass the entire perimeter of the dome, searching for weak spots without even leaving home. It was genius – and she wasn’t ashamed to say so.
The only issue was how to acquire more. She didn’t relish the thought of reenacting the plan she’d used last time – the one that had nearly resulted in her arrest. So she needed to come up with something new, something that would lead an army of willing PeaceBots right into her hands. And she had just the thing: She was going to create a trap.
Trapping PeaceBots followed many
of the same principles as trapping mice. All you needed was something to lure them in and something to immobilize them. Although in this case, cheese wasn’t going to do the trick. No, she needed something that the PeaceBots wanted, something they were programmed to go after.
That’s where their communication system came in handy. Separate from the Peace Force comms, the bots had their own way of signaling to each other through the ether, communicating distress, requesting backup, and acting as a beacon that would lead others to their exact location. So, naturally, once one bot arrived at the scene of a crime, the rest would follow. Good thing Scar already had that one bot. Now she simply needed the crime.
If it was anything too serious, she ran the risk of them alerting their human counterparts. So kidnapping and murder were out. That left the small-scale offenses, like trespassing, breaking curfew, and petty larceny. Since she’d already done the first two, she was leaning toward the last one.
Of course, she wasn’t actually going to commit the specified crime. She just had to make the bots think that she had. That was the fun part.
She’d decided that the upper tiers would be the perfect place to enact her plan. Since Burn’s attack on the airflow points, the area had been crawling with the latest model of PeaceBots. And, since the Peace Force still hadn’t gotten the ventilation system back online, the smog in those sectors would provide the perfect cover.
With her plan sorted, her main problem now was finding a way to blend in on the upper tiers, amongst the rich and the powerful. That was harder than it sounded. Up there, they had no fear of standing out. Their costumes were colorful, the uniforms unique, and they bathed in the envy of their peers. If Scar wanted to assimilate, she’d need to take their lead.
Thankfully, she had Symphandra’s closet to assist her. Left to her own devices, Scar wouldn’t know the difference between cotton and couture. But Symphandra had been a true visionary, crafting intricately colorful creations that entranced the eye and flattered the body. Her wardrobe was a thing to behold, stuffed to the brim with shades and fabrics Scar had never even seen, let alone considered wearing.
Now was her chance – a chance to become someone else, to step into another’s shoes, and, in the process, perhaps feel closer to the extraordinary woman who had once worn them. Lightly fingering the rainbow of dresses, skirts, and blouses that hung in Symphandra’s bedroom, Scar marveled at their beauty. The garments held a part of Symphandra, capturing her vivacity and playfulness, and, just like the house itself, they still held her scent, giving off a sweetly spicy aroma that was achingly familiar.
As Scar perused the clothing, her sights landed on a pair of deep purple pants and a silky cream-colored blouse, both of which played coquettishly with the light, making it bounce off their surfaces and absorb into their folds. She carefully removed the garments from their hangers, draping them softly over the nearby bed. Checking the closet again, she added a midnight blue cloak that bordered on black and a hand-etched leather mask that was alive with flowers and vines – Symphandra’s signature style.
Donning the clothing, Scar felt as if she were donning a disguise, putting on a new visage to camouflage her own. She buttoned the blouse over her shiny metallic collarbone and twisted her hair back, covering it with a scarf to hide the silvery wires. Stepping back, she considered herself in the mirror.
She almost looked normal, like one of them. She didn’t like it. Yet it would have to do.
Shrugging into the cloak, she woke her new pet PeaceBot from its mid-day charge and gave it its instructions. She’d been careful to spell out its role in detail, programming every response and eventuality in case something went wrong.
“Now you behave yourself,” she added out loud, as if the bot were capable of doing otherwise. “This is an important day for both of us. I’ll need you to be at your best.” She nodded to enforce her words, entirely cognizant that she was talking to a machine.
As expected, the bot said nothing in return.
Satisfied, Scar led the creature out the front door, fastening it securely behind them. Slowly, the pair rose through the tiers, with Scar staying a respectable distance behind so as not to raise suspicions. Once again, her unofficial escort was a handy one, clearing the streets with just a glance from its robotic eyes. No one wanted to be the subject of its gaze – or its guns.
Within no time, they reached the upper echelons of the city, where the rich and powerful spent their days – and their money. Or, at least, they once had.
The transformation it had undergone stopped Scar in her tracks. No longer was the area pristine and bright, dominated by shiny buildings and gleaming surfaces. The smog had taken care of that.
Now the tiers were drenched in gray, covered in a curtain of dust and grime. It coated every window, concealing the high-class shops and their overpriced wares, and it floated in the air, limiting visibility to a street or two at most. If it hadn’t been for the lighting overhead – all working and all turned on to max intensity – Scar might have believed she’d stumbled into the Corax End.
Even the people here had changed, their appearances and behaviors altering to match their environment. No longer did they seem bright and shiny, a paragon of health and well-being. The few that ventured onto the streets now looked beaten and worn, their dry coughs echoing through the dull and lifeless roads.
Scar smiled to herself under her mask, secretly pleased. Burn and Hale had done quite the job here, that much was certain. It would take the Peace Force weeks to undo this level of destruction. Even if they were able to clean the air, its lingering effects might be seen throughout the city – and the people – for years to come.
Slowly, without urgency, Scar ambled through the barren streets, drinking in the eerie stillness. Eventually she came to a stop beside her PeaceBot in a narrow dead-end lane behind the shops and shuttered stalls of the tier’s main thoroughfare.
Breaking out her tab, she set the events in motion. With the tap of her finger, her PeaceBot enacted its role, sending out a localized distress call that alerted nearby units to the presence of a thief. As soon as she’d finished, Scar got into position, tucking herself just around the corner, out of sight of the street.
In her right hand, she gripped her trusty stun gun pen. She’d made a few modifications to it since her run-in with Kaz. Most notably, she’d upped the voltage, increasing the level until it could take down a horse. She’d have to be quick – and very precise – but if she managed to press the pen directly to the base of a PeaceBot’s neck, its systems would overload, forcing a shutdown. She’d tested the device on her own PeaceBot (several times), and it had been an unqualified success. Plus, it was incredibly satisfying.
Several seconds ticked by, with Scar’s anxious heart beating out the time. Gradually, an all-too-familiar hum filtered into the alley, telegraphing a PeaceBot’s approach. Scar readied herself for battle, moving her finger to the trigger.
The moment the robot rounded the corner, Scar stuck out her hand, jamming her weapon roughly into the hard steel of its neck. A loud buzzing noise reverberated through its shell as the electricity coursed through its system. A few seconds of contact was all it took for the machine to go silent, the electronic lights disappearing from its eyes.
With a grunt of effort, she shoved the now-lifeless bot farther into the lane and reset herself behind the corner. It was time for round two.
Except this time, the match wouldn’t be so easily won. One PeaceBot she could handle. Two at once was doable. But three was a bit much, especially when they all turned the corner at the exact same time.
Scar signaled to her trusty PeaceBot, which sped toward her with alacrity. As she dealt an electric blow to the first foe, her bot put itself between her and the others, forming a shield with its body.
Upon seeing the distress of their comrade, the two remaining bots naturally began shooting. But instead of hitting her, the bullets ricocheted off her personal bodyguard, filling the alley with resounding clangs.
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With one bot taken care of, Scar moved her attentions to the second. The spray of bullets, however, somewhat hindered her approach. Thinking fast, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, round ball. She threw it to the pavement at the robots’ feet, sending a thick cloud of smoke swirling around them and obscuring their vision of the alley.
With no time to spare, Scar darted behind the second bot and jammed her pen in the direction of its neck. Yet with the smoke clouding her vision, as well, her aim was less than accurate, and the weapon discharged uselessly into the robot’s back. Going on the defensive, the bot swung around, knocking the pen out of Scar’s hand.
Scar dropped to the pavement, evading the bot’s next attack and scrambling to find her weapon. Her eyes locked on the pen a few feet away, and she dove for it, her fingers closing around its smooth surface just as one of the bots rammed her in the back, sending her sprawling.
The bot reversed, intending to hit her again, but she managed to roll out of the way, narrowly avoiding the second strike. Jumping to her feet, she lunged behind one of the immobilized creatures as another volley of bullets echoed around her.
Whipping out her tab, she executed a series of commands to her own bot, which complied obligingly. Within moments, it began firing on its former cohorts, gradually drawing them away from Scar’s position. Momentarily free of foes, she jumped out and grabbed the nearest bot, forcing her weapon into its neck. Two down, one to go.
She knew she had to work quickly. The commotion had no doubt caused some curiosity among nearby residents. Soon there’d be more PeaceBots than she could handle – or, worse, Peace Officers. And the latter were a good deal more difficult to get rid of.
So Scar pounced, grabbing the last bot and plunging the pen into its neck. The weapon, however, did not seem to have the same urgency as she did. The pen sparked then went out, fizzling into nothing. Caught off guard, Scar just stood there. The bot, on the other hand, swung its top half around, colliding with her body and knocking her against the wall. The air escaped her lungs in one painful breath.
