by Wesley King
“Francis is going to be furious over losing the factory,” Dree said. “He’s going to send his full army against us.”
Abe nodded. “Perhaps. But we will just have to be ready.”
“We’re going to need to get at Francis himself eventually,” Marcus pointed out.
“He is well protected,” Lourdvang cut in, turning his head back to the distant city. “Drones circling the palace at all times. Guards and antiaircraft weapons manning the castle. It won’t be easy.”
“But it is necessary,” Abe said. “He has to pay for all of this death and destruction.”
“Finally!” Erdath suddenly growled.
Marcus turned and caught a flash of gold and saw Nolong swooping low through the valley, heading right for them. He looked like a stray burst of sunlight. Marcus jumped to his feet, hoping desperately that Nolong could save Emmett. The young dragon was growing weaker.
“What happened?” Nolong asked gruffly, landing beside the group and heading straight for Emmett. “They just said he was injured.”
“Iron barb in the side,” Erdath said, following him. “Can you heal him?”
Nolong scanned over the young dragon and then focused on the wound. “Time will tell.”
The group gathered around as Nolong began to blow a rippling, autumn-gold fire onto the wound. Emmett cried out, but Erdath held him down. Slowly the flames began to bind the wound.
Marcus watched in amazement. It was like a weld—sealing the golden scales back together. Finally, Nolong stepped away, and Emmett stopped struggling.
Nolong looked at the group. “He will live.”
Nathaniel let out a relieved gasp, and Marcus and Dree both grinned. There had been enough death of late.
“Give him a few moments, and then we will carry him back,” Erdath said.
Nathaniel ran his hand along Emmett’s snout, comforting the young dragon.
Marcus watched them for a moment, thinking that Nathaniel was a lot different than he let on, and then looked back toward the city. He froze.
“Impossible,” he whispered.
A solid line of drones was converging on the city from the south. They almost blocked the sun, there were so many. Marcus counted at least fifty. It was a wave of death, sweeping across the sky toward the ruined factory. It seemed that Francis was consolidating his forces around the city. If the Resistance attacked the city again, the drones would be waiting.
Abe and Dree stepped up beside him, both looking grim.
“Now the war really begins,” Dree whispered.
Marcus turned to her. “And we are severely outnumbered.”
Chapter
13
Marcus and Dree looked around Forost’s decimated central cavern, pockmarked with bullet holes and jagged craters from the missiles. Baby Hybrid and the drones had attacked again during the assault on the factory and had destroyed much of the Resistance’s food and water supply. Some of the fire-resistant metal had survived, as it had been dragged down into the tunnels earlier to be fitted and shaped for armor, but the rest had been blown apart. They no longer had enough metal to arm all of the would-be Dragon Riders.
“It seems we both decided to make a pre-emptive attack,” Marcus said, shaking his head.
Dree scowled. “Our remaining supplies won’t last us much longer. A week or two at most.”
“We can get more,” Marcus said.
“How?” Dree replied. “The drones are covering the sky. If we go back into Dracone, we’ll be killed.”
They were standing alone in the middle of the cavern while Abe and Erdath spoke in the far corner. Nolong had carried Emmett into a side cavern and was letting him rest—the Sage had managed to mend the worst of the injuries, and Emmett was going to survive. Nathaniel didn’t move from his side.
Lourdvang walked up behind them. “No one was hurt,” he said. “The guards retreated in time.”
“That’s something at least,” Dree said. “We can’t afford any more losses.”
Lourdvang nodded. “We may already be too few.”
Marcus looked over the pile of rubble, thinking about all the destruction that the drones had caused. He pictured the shattered outskirts of the city, and the smoking ruins of the outlying villages. So many lives had been lost because of his father and Jack’s inventions. He wondered again if his father had known what these drones might be used for. If George had, even for a while, believed in Francis’s vision.
If that was the case, Marcus didn’t think he could ever forgive his father for all of this. If that was the case, then maybe George deserved to be in prison.
Marcus snapped back to attention when he saw Nathaniel emerge from a side cavern, his face ashen and grim.
“How is Emmett?” Dree asked immediately.
“He’ll live,” Nathaniel said. “Just barely made it. But Nolong says the damage to his wing muscles and nerves are beyond his skill to heal. Nolong doesn’t think Emmett will ever fly again.”
Lourdvang made a low noise, shaking his head in dismay. For a dragon to lose his ability to fly was a terrible thing—a greater curse than anything they could suffer. Dragons lived for the open air and the cold northern wind beneath their wings. They all knew that young Emmett would be devastated.
Dree put her hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “At least he’s alive. You should take some comfort in that.”
Nathaniel nodded, but his expression remained stern. “Excuse me. I need to go talk to Abe.”
He stalked off, and Marcus and Dree headed into the tunnels to see Jack, whom they found bent over a disorganized tangle of scrap metal and circuitry, connecting the interior workings of Teen Hybrid, as Jack had started calling it after learning about the moniker for the first version. He said it definitely would be more advanced than the first one, but that he had no idea how it was really supposed to work or how it would turn out when he was finished, so “teen” felt suitable. Marcus and Dree had just laughed and taken on the name. Teen Hybrid’s skeleton was slowly starting to form, though it was in the early stages. Jack looked up and grinned.
“Marcus! You’re all right.”
“I am,” Marcus said. “How’s it going here?”
Jack sighed. “There’s still a long way to go, I’m afraid. Were you able to find more parts?”
Marcus nodded, and he and Dree presented Jack with what they had been able to collect: two computer cores, multiple power cells, and a lot more circuitry. Jack looked at the haul and nodded. “That will help. But I could also use a welder,” he said, glancing at Dree.
Dree grinned. “I’ll get my stuff. Marcus and Lourdvang will help too. We need to move fast.”
Dree hurried off to get her welding equipment with Lourdvang close behind.
Marcus watched them go, and then turned to Jack. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Why did you and my father create the drones? I know there are drones back on Earth, but they’re not nearly this sophisticated. Giving them artificial intelligence . . . it’s made them far more dangerous. I just . . . Why were you working on this project?”
Jack looked at him for a moment and then laid down the circuitry he was holding.
“I was working on it because your father asked me to.”
Marcus frowned. “So it was his idea.”
“Yes,” Jack admitted. “We had become friends after he read my work on artificial intelligence. I had worked for the CIA before, but I wasn’t working on anything specific at the time—just general AI research. He told me he had a new project, and he needed my help.”
Jack looked down at the cannibalized drone.
“I’ll admit, I was hesitant. I didn’t want to contribute to any kind of war, and when George told me how heavily armed these drones would be, I objected. I asked him if he really wanted to use these a
gainst his fellow man. He said no. He said they were to serve as protection against any other enemies, ones far more dangerous than I could ever know. I was skeptical of the project, but he was my friend, and I trusted him.” Jack sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Your father is a brilliant man. So, despite my misgivings, we started the project. And when we had the designs and were about to get them approved for final construction, he came to me and told me he had to go. By then he had told me about the portal, about his past. I even knew about the dragons. I told him to stay with you, but he wouldn’t. He said he had no choice, so he left you with me and disappeared.”
Marcus walked along the drone hulk, softly touching its massive machines guns and missile launchers.
“So he really did want to use the drones to destroy the dragons. That was always the plan.”
“I believe so,” Jack said. “But he was seeking revenge; he wasn’t thinking straight.”
Marcus turned away, clenching his fists. “My father is a murderer, Jack. He created all of this turmoil.”
“No,” Jack said. “He made a terrible mistake by setting this in motion, but this Francis guy—he’s the one who took it to the next level. Your father never would have set out to harm so many, I’m sure of it. Of course, if I had known what it was being used for . . .”
Marcus heard the regret in his voice and thought of something.
“You must be angry with him. He used you for the AI and then stole the design from you.”
Jack nodded. “That occurred to me too. But a man seeking vengeance will do foolish things. It doesn’t always mean he’s a bad person. But it does mean that he has to try to find redemption.”
The silence held for a while, and then Marcus just sighed and picked up a computer core. “I wonder what it’s like to have a normal family.”
Jack snorted. “Boring. Trust me. But enough reflection. Let’s get to work.”
“Marcus!” Dree shouted from the door.
Marcus turned to her and immediately knew something was wrong. She looked furious. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“My father is gathering the Resistance fighters,” she said. “They want to strike the palace tonight.”
When Marcus and Dree arrived in the war room, Abelard and Nathaniel were already surrounded by Resistance fighters and dragons waiting to receive their orders. Abelard paced back and forth at the front of the room, his tired face flushed and angry.
“We cannot wait any longer,” he said gruffly. “Today another village was destroyed. One of our scouts saw the remains of Cardon from the air today. It was once a beautiful town . . . I remember sailing above it, watching them plow the wheat fields. Now it is just a smoking crater.”
There were angry murmurs around the room. Abelard continued. “Too many lives are being lost. The drones continue to attack the defenseless. I know we are not as prepared as we hoped, but the time is now. Francis will be reeling from our successful attack on the factory. We disrupted his plans, and he will be trying to reallocate his remaining drones. For a while, he may be too busy to plan a proper defense. We must strike.”
A roar of approval went up from the fighters and dragons, creating a noise so thunderous it shook the walls.
Nathaniel walked next to Abelard, scowling. He addressed the crowd. “We break into the palace tonight and kill Francis. With him gone, we can take control of the drones and ground them all. Forever. Who’s ready to fight?”
Another roar went up. Marcus started to step forward to say something, but Dree beat him to it.
“No,” she said firmly, her voice carrying across the room.
Everyone turned to her.
“What?” Nathaniel said, narrowing his eyes.
Dree walked to the front of the room, and Marcus and Lourdvang exchanged a knowing look.
Someone was about to get a lecture.
“We are not ready,” she said angrily. “We need Teen Hybrid and the Egg. We went all the way to Earth to find it, and now you want to attack without our two greatest weapons? Did you see how many drones there were? If we go in without Teen Hybrid, we’re all dead. The Resistance is over.”
“We’re not afraid,” Nathaniel snarled.
“Well, you should be,” Dree snapped. “We only get one shot to take back Dracone. If you go in now and lose to Francis, the Resistance is over. All of this fighting and planning will have been for nothing.”
Nathaniel turned to Abelard. “If we wait, we could miss our window to attack. We have to move now.”
Abelard looked between them, and then his gray eyes hardened. “I’m sorry, Dree. We attack.”
“It’s a mistake,” Dree said, feeling her temper rising. “If we lose, we throw away everything.”
“What do you know about strategy?” Nathaniel scoffed.
“I know that you wait until you are ready,” she replied coolly.
Abelard sighed and turned away. “We have to be ready now. I’m sorry.”
Dree slumped, defeated.
“Just a minute now,” a new voice cut in.
They turned to see Dree’s mother pushing through the crowd. She was staring at Abelard like he had just spilled something on the carpet back at home. “Your daughter is the only one here who has successfully taken on those drones,” she snapped, looking around the war room. “Dree and Marcus are the only reason any of us are still alive, in case you have forgotten. They got us to safety when the drones attacked. They took on Francis in his palace and lived to tell the tale. They built the hybrid and retrieved the Egg. I think they deserve our trust, don’t you? If Dree says we need to wait to attack, then you had better listen to her.” She turned to her husband, her hands planted firmly on her hips. She gave him a dark look. “Do you understand me, Abelard Reiter?”
Abelard looked at his wife for a moment, sighed, and then turned back to Dree and Marcus.
He smiled sadly. “She’s right, you know. She usually is. I am proud of you both. You have had to take on far too much in this war, and it isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot. I trust you, Dree. Build your new hybrid, but move quickly. You have one week, and then we attack, with or without the weapon.”
Dree nodded and turned to Marcus.
“If we want to live past next week, we had better get to work.”
Chapter
14
Dree blinked against a shower of sparks, carefully watching the seam of the metal as she welded a hulking, angular black wing onto Teen Hybrid. She moved the torch slowly along the joints, always in complete control, even though she was terribly anxious to finish. It had already been three days since she had convinced her father to postpone the attack, and she still had a long way to go.
Teen Hybrid currently looked like some nightmarish specter. Its main hull was still exposed, allowing Jack and Marcus to tinker with the insides, and it only had one clawed hand and the wing that Dree was currently attaching on its right side. A headless neck stretched out to her left, while a huge pile of scrap metal sat behind her. Dree had known almost immediately that Teen Hybrid wouldn’t be as powerful as the original: They had fewer drone components, armor plating, and missiles. But they did have the power of the Egg, so that would have to be enough. Dree knew that the main job of this hybrid would be to knock out its predecessor. With Baby Hybrid leading the fleet of drones, the dragons would be severely outmatched.
She glanced over to see Marcus hunched in the corner with a computer core, working on some of the programming. Jack was halfway inside the hull of the hybrid, his legs sticking out comically behind him as he fixed the wiring. She heard him cursing under his breath the whole time.
“If only I had a lab.
“How can I use magic to power a machine?
“A hybrid—how do I get involved with these things?
“I’m going to punch George next time I see him.
“Ow! That’s hot!”
Dree just giggled and went back to work. When she finished the weld, she extinguished the torch and stepped back, admiring her work. The new lines were clean and smooth, and the wing would be able to handle the strain of aerial maneuvers. She just wished she could put extra armor plating on the joint like she had last time; well-placed bullets would be able to tear through that weld all too quickly.
She sighed. They’d just have to make do with what they had.
Jack emerged from the hybrid, looking exhausted. His thinning blond-gray hair was plastered to his face with sweat, and the heavy bags under his eyes reached almost to his sharp nose. Like Marcus and Dree, he had barely slept in the last three days. Meanwhile, Lourdvang was curled up in the corner like a massive black cat, snoring loud enough to shake the entire cavern. Dree wished she could go and lie down next to him.
But there just wasn’t time. Without Teen Hybrid, the Resistance was badly outgunned.
“How’s it going over there?” Jack called to Marcus.
Marcus looked up, the dark circles under his eyes making him look like a raccoon. “All right,” he said. “Making a couple of small tweaks. Making sure all the drone AI is offline from Francis’s control room.”
“That would be ideal,” Dree agreed, turning back to the pile of metal. “On to the next wing.”
“I think we can afford a small break,” Jack said. “Before we all pass out and hurt ourselves.”
Dree wanted to argue, but she knew Jack was right. She reluctantly nodded and put down the welding torch. “Just a quick nap.”
“Agreed,” Jack said, moving wearily to the corner where they had created small beds of excess clothes and packs. Almost the minute his head hit the pillow, his entire body went limp, and he started to snore.
Dree smiled and shook her head. “Poor guy.”
Marcus stretched and started for his own makeshift bed, which was set up next to Dree’s. They both lay down and stared up at the ominous stalactites that hung over their heads like dragon teeth.
