Atlas Fallen

by Jessica Pierce

  “And what about you and Tesla?”

  She frowned. “The Sec-Bots are flanking either side of the exit. We’ll have to go between them to get through.”

  Sav frowned, but nodded. They had no other choice.

  Jasmeen gently pushed open the swinging door as they slowly crept inside.

  Just beyond the entrance to the garden, the floor changed from steel to thick, caked dirt. Long rows of wheat barely concealed Tesla’s head as she and Jasmeen pressed forward. The Sec-Bots turned in their direction, and for a moment time stopped. What if she was wrong? What if the robots weren’t just programmed to seek heat, but also sound? Were they turning at the creak of the door’s hinge, or because the cooler air of the changing room had caused a flux in the temperature?

  Freiter’s feet left deep furrows in the dirt as Blitz and Sav headed past the first long row of plant stalks toward the medical supplies. To Tesla’s right, Jasmeen’s hair was barely visible over the crops.

  Tesla crouched, low enough that her body was hidden, but not so low that she couldn’t keep an eye on the Sec-Bots. The thin fabric of her skirts snagged on the wheat, but she felt grateful that her soft slippers gave her some semblance of stealth.

  A Sec-Bot whistled, scanning the area with its green grid, and Tesla couldn’t help but gasp. Up ahead, Jasmeen’s head dipped below the tops of wheat. Tesla followed suit, lowering her body onto the coarse dirt as the green grid flashed above her.

  Between the stalks, Jasmeen caught her gaze, placed the rifle on the backs of her hands, and pantomimed a movement. Tesla nodded her understanding—they would have to belly crawl to the exit.

  The dirt felt rough against her skin as she brought her knees up to her chest. The gown was not made for crawling, however, and she struggled to make progress toward the door. The rifle wobbled on the back of her hands, but managed to stay put as Tesla adjusted her body to compensate. Wheat parted as spidery legs inched toward her, crunchy on the soil as the glow of another green grid filled the room.

  Tesla stopped only when her fingers finally brushed Jasmeen’s shoe. She made to stand, but Jasmeen shook her head and pointed to a spot a few paces away. Tesla could just barely make out a sixth, hidden Sec-Bot through the dense crops. Jerking the locket from her throat, Jasmeen depressed a button near its latch, waiting just until the pendant glowed a bright red. With a great heave, she threw it back the way they’d come. A fountain of molten sparks shot above the top of the crops just as the girl shoved her onward.

  “GO!”

  The Sec-Bots sped toward the new source of heat like sharks onto a carcass. Tesla clutched the rifle and ran through the exit. One Sec-Bot turned at the temperature change of the open door, but Jasmeen pulled the trigger twice and the robot’s weapon fell to the dirt. The other Sec-Bots must have sensed the heat from the rifle muzzle, because they turned swiftly, honing in on the girls’ location.

  “Oh, muck,” Jasmeen muttered.

  “This way!” said Tesla, pulling the other girl forward as the Sec-Bots charged. “We’re almost there!” Two lefts later and she pried open the stairwell door, constantly glancing over her shoulder at the robots. With a soft cry of relief, the doors parted easily, and Tesla made to run up the steps, but instead of metal stairs, her slipper met open air. She wobbled from the loss of balance, but managed to fall backward to safety just in time.

  “Get up, we have to move!”

  “I thought you said this would be a stairway!” Tesla shouted.

  Jasmeen fired at the nearest Sec-Bot, shrieking as a pulse blast whizzed right by her ear. “That’s what the schematic said!”

  “Well, Blitz isn’t the only one who can’t read a map! This is an empty service lift. We have to climb!”

  Jasmeen lifted the barrel of her rifle and shattered a light in the corridor, sending its large frame crashing down to create a barrier between the stairway and the Sec-Bots. With a running start, she slung the rifle across her back and leapt, catching hold of the lift’s wall on the opposite side. Tesla reached her hands upward from her place on the ledge, searched for a seam, and pulled her body up the shaft. Back in the corridor, they could hear the robots breaking through the barrier.

  Jasmeen’s athleticism was nothing compared to Tesla’s instincts, honed by months spent grappling against bulkheads during crew work. Tesla climbed easily, despite the slickness of her slippers and the skirts tangling around her legs. Her ribs screamed as she hauled her body onto Level Two’s landing. Inches below, Jasmeen lost her footing, but Tesla grabbed the girl by the wrist and pulled her onto the riveted platform.

  “I hate this station,” Jasmeen groaned, climbing shakily to her feet.

  Tesla stopped to catch her breath, pressing her forehead against the cool bulkhead wall. Her cheek brushed a row of stenciled letters and she felt a wave of relief.

  LEVEL TWO: BALLROOM ACCESS

  “Looks like you can read a map after all.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  DAXTON SHUT HIS EYES TIGHTLY, then opened them again. There was no way he was seeing correctly. Screams erupted through the ballroom as Tesla pushed through the crowd dressed in a filthy ball gown, a rifle held firmly in her hands. The guards seemed equally confused, unsure of whether or not this was somehow a bizarre part of the evening’s entertainment.

  Cerise wrinkled her nose. “What is that?”

  A pair of heavyset security force officers apprehended Tesla near the steps to the balcony, slamming her to the ground. Daxton flinched as Tesla cried out.

  “I have to speak to the Prime Heir!” she screamed. The crowd recoiled in horror as the guard landed a solid punch to her jaw. Tesla’s body went slack and he ripped the rifle from her fingers.

  “Enough!” he commanded. “Tesla, what is going on?”

  Kyrartine stepped in front of him, pushing him backward. “Tomasz, we need to leave. This girl has escaped confinement and is obviously insane. It isn’t safe for you here.”

  “She’s not insane,” Daxton cried, shoving his uncle’s hand away. “She’s my friend!”

  “Take the Imperator and Imperatoress to the antechambers!” Kyrartine barked to Cademore and Gifford. The lieutenants snapped to the sound of the Defense Minister’s voice, escorting Daxton’s parents through a grand archway, their faces contorted in confusion and alarm.

  Kyrartine turned to the remaining security force guards now surrounding the balcony. “Seal the doors! No one leaves.”

  Tesla stirred, her eyes glossy and disoriented. “D-Daxton—wait. You have to listen.”

  Kyrartine’s eyes narrowed. “Silence this traitor bitch.”

  “No!” Daxton ran to Tesla’s side, holding up his hands to stop the guards. Behind him, she wobbled to her feet. “There must be an explanation to all this, I know it.” He turned to Tesla, brushing the hair from her face. Was that blood on her dress? Cerise’s words haunted him: Did you know she’s the daughter of a traitor?

  “Please—” Tesla begged.

  “Whose blood is this?” Daxton asked quietly, his fingers touching the stain on her sleeve. But Tesla didn’t answer. She stared at Kyrartine, her eyes full of rage.

  A security force officer stepped forward with a handheld scanner. “Your Highness, the DNA matches a William Freiter. New London records show his family officially reported him missing five days ago.”

  A chill pierced Daxton’s heart. “Why are you covered in Freiter’s blood? What have you done?” He took a step back, standing next to his uncle. “Tesla, tell me what they say about your father isn’t true.”

  Tesla swallowed as the yellow spheres overhead descended upon her, microphones thrusting out like swords. “My n-name is Tesla Petrov,” she stammered, “and it’s true that my father was a traitor, but I am not.”

  Daxton felt the station shift beneath his feet. The spheres burst into a flurry of lightning flashes, recording Tesla’s every word. His fists clenched at his sides. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I thought you�
�d look at me like I was a traitor, too! Freiter is with Sav—”

  “Did you hurt the others as well? Is that why they can’t answer the microComm?” he shouted.

  Tesla’s face paled. “No, I would never hurt them. They’re my friends, too.”

  “And what about the weapon my uncle found in your apartment? Is it true you were hiding a gun?”

  “Yes, but there’s an explanation. You have to trust me—”

  A bitter laugh escaped Daxton’s throat. “You just admitted that you’re a liar, and now I’m supposed to trust you? You barged in here with a weapon, Tesla! You’re covered in Freiter’s blood, and you neglected to mention that your father committed treason against the crown. But worst of all—you lied to me. To me. All this time I was looking for a threat and the real threat was you!”

  “No!” She reached for him, but he motioned for the guards to place her into the electro-cuffs. “Daxton, the station is under attack! Your uncle is the Crow Strike. Freiter was trying to warn you—just ask Jasmeen!” An uneasy rumble spread through the crowd as Tesla looked around expectantly, but her expression quickly turned to one of disbelief. “I don’t understand, she was right behind me.”

  “So you have no alibi?” said Kyrartine, his accent as sharp as any dagger. “And what am I supposedly guilty of?”

  Tesla looked to Daxton, her eyes wild and desparate. “The Sec-Bots are attacking Atlas citizens. Something about an Icarus Protocol. They’re going to kill everyone on board.”

  Daxton looked at the Sec-Bots posted on either side of each entrance to the ballroom. None of them had moved from their posts, not even during Tesla’s initial outburst.

  It was Kyrartine’s turn to laugh. “Tomasz, I think we’ve had enough of this spectacle. If the station were under attack, I would be the first to know.”

  Daxton looked from his uncle to the tears in Tesla’s eyes, his gaze sweeping over the stunned crowd. She had lied about her father, she’d admitted as much. They’d found a weapon in her bedroom that morning and here she was, bursting into the ball with a rifle, covered in Freiter’s blood, without Jasmeen or any of the others to vouch for her.

  It was too much.

  “Detain her, but do not hurt her,” he said quietly.

  His chest tightened at the way Tesla’s head fell against her chest. “Please, Daxton,” she begged. “I’m not your enemy.”

  He turned away from her. “I don’t know who you are.”

  “Take her away,” Kyrartine bellowed.

  Daxton felt his uncle’s hand on his back and allowed himself to be guided forward, his body numb from the look of despair on Tesla’s face and the way her tears had fallen against her stained gown. He barely heard the doors to the antechambers close behind him.

  His mother stepped forward, her voice laced with worry. “Tomasz, are you alright? What happened?”

  “What is going on?” the Imperator demanded, rising from a seat near the synth-glass windows. Cademore and Gifford stood on either side, palms ready to unholster their weapons against a threat if need be. “Kyrartine, what is this about?”

  A soft click sounded as Kyrartine locked the door. “Pruning roses, dear brother.” His gloved hand raised the pistol faster than Daxton could react.

  CRACK.

  The ringing in his ears mixed with his mother’s screams.

  Daxton watched his father crumple lifeless to the floor.

  Cademore and Gifford moved to raise their weapons, but Kyrartine fired twice more. Gifford’s boots lay still, peeking out from behind the side table, while Cademore’s body landed across the loveseat’s arm, her jaw dangling open at an unnatural angle from the wound.

  Daxton felt dazed, like he was being squeezed between reality and a terrible nightmare. He reached for his sobbing mother, stepping between her and Kyrartine. “It was you,” he said weakly. “Tesla was telling the truth.”

  Kyrartine sneered. “It would seem that alleyrat is smarter than she looks.”

  Daxton glanced toward the blood staining the carpet around his father. “But Doyle was guilty. He stole—”

  “Doyle was an idiot and a drug addict,” Kyrartine snapped. “And your father was an imbecile too blinded by his own narcissism to see the corruption of those around him. Do you know how many rebellions I’ve eradicated? Know how many times I’ve sniffed out spies sent by our enemies to find our weaknesses? All the while your father insists the monarchy is stronger than ever.”

  Daxton shook his head, “I still don’t understand—”

  “Efficiency,” Kyrartine said, cutting him off. “Before the Great War, there were a thousand governments and leaders squawking about whether or not to wage battle or pass laws—to fight or to flee. The human race stood in the way of our own progress. Things finally had to fall apart so that we could rebuild. The Great War unified us. We reached new potential. We achieved peace. Even with all this prosperity, our people still complain. The Restoration seeks to take our throne. Man is never happy with what he has.” He gestured around the room with the pistol. “If we don’t fight for this, Tomasz, someone will tear this legacy from our bloody hands.”

  “Like you’re trying to take it from my father’s?” Daxton shouted. “From me?”

  Kyrartine’s eyes became as dark as obsidian. “The Restoration is tearing down our walls. Your ambassadors are turning against the crown. We need to show them that we are in control.” He gestured toward the Imperator’s lifeless body. “Can’t you see that I’m trying to save your legacy?”

  “This isn’t a legacy, Kyrartine. This is murder,” said Daxton.

  “How do you think I made you the Prime Heir, dear nephew? Did you think I could stand to have Liam become the next Grand Imperator, with all his talks of peace and harmony? You understand the danger of letting down our guard—it’s why you were wise enough to order the Collux Corporation to build more Sec-Bots. It’s how I knew you were ready to lead our people.”

  Daxton felt his knees buckle. “You... you killed Liam?”

  “He was your family,” sobbed the Imperatoress, clutching at Daxton to try and shield him. “You’re a monster.”

  Kyrartine lips quirked into an eerie smile, and he cocked his head to the side. “No, Vivienne, I’m a visionary.”

  “You’re delusional if you think I’m going to join you in this sick madness. The public will know the truth—that you’re to blame.”

  “Ah. That’s where you’re wrong. Doyle left me plenty of incriminating evidence to convince the public he was responsible for all this, but then Cerise told me the truth about your little Gulch whore. Call it a flair for the dramatic, but having a traitor’s daughter as the scapegoat for the death of the royal family just seemed too delicious to pass up.”

  “But the live broadcast feeds... the public will see proof of what you’ve done.”

  Kyrartine scratched his head with the barrel of the gun and pretended to think. “It's a good thing I took over the station’s communication output an hour ago, before my Sec-Bots began eliminating every single witness from the face of this station. I control what the world will see of tonight’s events. With a little creative editing, Daxton and I emerge the sole surviving members of the LaRose family, barely escaping a terrorist attack with our lives, ready to launch a war against those we deem responsible.”

  “I will never stand by your side,” Daxton whispered. “I will never align myself with a tyrant.”

  Why weren’t the guards breaking down the doors at the sound of gunshots? Were they on Kyrartine’s side, fighting in favor of Daxton’s death and the death of everyone onboard? Daxton eyed Cademore’s gun. It’s was too far away to make a move, but maybe if he drew his uncle farther into the room...

  Kyrartine followed the prince’s gaze. “Enough talk,” he spat. “If you won’t join me, then you’re standing in my way.” He whirled on the Imperatoress, killing her with a single shot to the chest. Daxton caught her body as she fell, his throat raw from the force of the scream tearing
from his lungs.

  The gloved hand raised once more, pointed the gun at Daxton’s heart, and pulled the trigger.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  TESLA STRUGGLED AGAINST THE TWO GUARDS, desperately scanning the ballroom for any sign of Jasmeen. Where is she? Near the grand piano at the center of the stage, Theopoenne Fox turned away and rushed through a service door, leaving Tesla at the mercy of her captors. The guard holding her right arm jerked her roughly, and she stumbled on the hem of her gown. The other guard, an older man with a heavy beard, shoved her forward with the butt of her confiscated rifle.

  From somewhere in the direction of where Kyrartine had escorted Daxton, a shot rang out. Every tendon and sinew in her body turned to ice.

  “Listen to me! The royal family is in danger!” she screamed. “Why in space aren’t you protecting them?”

  Beard Face sent a shock through the electro-cuffs. “If the Grand Imperator wanted protection, he should have paid us more corpCredits,” he snarled. “Kyrartine is the future of the First World Union.”

  His partner shoved her through a passageway. She turned to claw her way back to the ballroom, but before she could utter a sound, a shadowed figure leapt from the ceiling, sending her crashing to the floor. Jasmeen moved like smoke, slashing and stabbing until both men lay still, their bodies either unconscious or dead.

  Tesla struggled to her feet. “Where have you been?” she hissed. “Kyrartine took Daxton into one of the antechambers!”

  Jasmeen retrieved a set of keys from Beard Face’s belt and unlocked her electro-cuffs. “The minute I saw the smug smile on Cerise’s face, I knew she must have told Daxton about you and your father. I stayed behind to figure out a backup plan just in case, and it’s a good thing, too. I saw the way Daxton stared at you. That pink snake poisoned his judgment. If I had stood beside you, we would have both ended up in restraints with no way out.”