by K. T. Hanna
“You have to be fucking kidding me.” Harlow’s tones are velvet and dangerous. She rarely raises her voice, but has that mothering tone where everyone listens. Her scowl matches her words, and the anger is palpable, even to Bastian, who is no empath.
Then he remembers. She lost both parents in the Damascus uprising. Orphaned as a child, like so many during that time. Kids could hide places the Damascus couldn’t crawl into.
Harlow stands when Deign doesn’t respond and takes a step toward the other woman, visibly shaking. “You can’t let them out. Have you forgotten what they did last time?” That deadly cold tone, calculating. Sometimes Bastian thinks her talents were misplaced.
The others interject at the same time.
“The pulse might not work this time.”
“You can’t seriously think we can control them!”
Deign snaps out of it, drawing herself to her full height, and levels a glare at them all. They quiet down, but Bastian’s very thin patience is gone.
“You realize you’ll be sending your own people to death just because you’re scared of a few Exiled and a bit of research?”
“A bit of research? They came in and crushed Davis’s neck. Snapped it and left him in our bathroom. Right next to the meeting room. That’s not scared—I’m being practical!”
Harlow shakes her head, planting her feet firmly as she crosses her arms. “You’re being paranoid.”
For a moment Deign hesitates, but her lips firm into a hard line and she nods. “I know. But I have to be. This city, what’s left of our great country, rests on me, and it’s something we have to try.”
“Our great country?” Harlow barks the laugh out, practically spitting on the ground. “You know Austrasia and Eussia will send delegations if they hear of this.”
“They’d do exactly the same thing if they had an uprising!” Deign snaps the words, closes her eyes briefly, and continues with her usual calm. “As long as we feed the Damascus their directive before we take them out of stasis, then they will operate under those orders until they have fulfilled them.”
“They did that last time.” Harlow’s tone is bitter, frigid.
Deign turns to her, a softer expression on her face than Bastian thought possible. He doesn’t miss the involuntary reach of her hand for Harlow’s that she snatches back before anyone else can notice. “We make sure we have the pulse machine ready to fire before we turn them on. I’m not stupid. I don’t want to lose innocent lives. But if we don’t do this...”
Harlow won’t meet her eyes, so Deign stops for a second and turns away. She rolls her shoulders and looks at each of them in turn. “This is the only way we can get the source back and eliminate this threat to our way of life, to the world we’ve built for our people.”
“The world we’ve built?” Selwyn chokes out the words. “I wasn’t around when the Damascus were activated. I don’t know how to do this. Davis is gone!”
“We know that!” Zach’s glare could level a building, and Selwyn squirms in his seat, eyes darting around the office as if seeking a way out.
Deign claps her hands, and everyone focuses on her. Thoughts race through Bastian’s head like wildfire, jumping onto different tangents and dismissing them almost as soon as he devises them. This isn’t going to work. This can never be good.
“This can’t work, Deign.” He says the words softly, gently.
She sighs and rubs the back of her hand over her eyes, suddenly seeming much older than her years. “Our legacy, this company, the United Conglomerate—they depend on us to keep them safe. They depend on us for this carefree lifestyle. We can’t take it away.”
It’s all Bastian can do not to scream at her, to yell that they’ve taken away enough already—people’s choices, their free will. That mental suggestion, convincing people it’s better to be content than to remember the bad, isn’t a carefree anything. But he breathes deeply instead, and Harlow steps forward to stand right in front of Deign.
“Are you sure, completely sure, you can guarantee the safety of our cities once their directives are completed?”
The moment’s hesitation Deign gives is enough to set the scowl back on Harlow’s face. “I can’t be one hundred percent certain. But as long as we keep the pulse device handy, we have a good chance.”
“That isn’t good enough.” Harlow’s shoulders slump, and she lowers herself gracelessly into her seat, eyes drifting to focus on the advertisements playing outside Bastian’s windows.
“You know we can’t trust them, Deign,” he says.
She nods. “I know. I... We don’t have any other options, Bastian. None. Not a single person has another viable solution. I have to protect my people and everything our families fought to build after the disasters.”
There she is—the young lady who took over, the idealistic girl, tainted by a way of life that’s led them all here. As much as he wants to, he knows she won’t hear the argument he should make. She’ll never understand that giving the people their minds back, that giving them control to react in positive or negative ways could be a good thing. Taking Shine off the streets has never occurred to her, either.
“If that’s what you believe,” he says instead of what he so desperately wants to, because despite everything the Exiled have accomplished, he needs to be in the position he’s in.
“It is.”
“I’ll second it,” Zach says, his voice not loud and grating for once. Perhaps the gravity of the situation weighs even on him. “If you propose it.”
She nods and turns to Bastian, a glimmer of hope in the twitch of her mouth.
“I’ll third it,” he says as pleasantly as he can.
Deign breathes in so deeply it’s audible and glances at Harlow, who still won’t look at her. He’d forgotten how close they were as children.
“Then it’s settled,” she says, shifting back into business mode. She smoothes her hair behind her ears and reaches forward to shake Bastian’s hand deftly. “I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
Bastian waits at his desk until they leave. Dom makes no noise as he reverts back to his visible form. “We have to stop this.”
“You think? Maybe if we could rewind time and not kill Davis—oh, wait...” Bastian wishes he could force out the chuckle because the feeling in his throat threatens to gag him, and he’s never been this angry at his friend before. “She wants to release the first stage of the Domino Project, Dom. Because of you. This is so bad.” He sinks his head into his hands and, for just a moment, wishes he’d run away with Sai and given up this whole cloak-and-dagger, double-agent business.
“Because of me?” There’s concern in Dom’s voice. The first real sign of emotion Bastian’s seen in his friend since he arrived. It sparks a hope that the humanity Dom gained from his friendships with Sai and Bastian is still in there somewhere, but it’s brief and overcome by other thoughts.
Bastian stops to look at his friend. “You know your history, Dom, I know you do. And you know what you did. Why aren’t you reacting to this?” He watches for any sort of sign that Dom is troubled by the news, that he’s ready to act. Except there’s nothing—no urgency, no real comprehension. The worry in the pit of Bastian’s stomach intensifies.
Dom blinks, and a strangely hued ripple passes through him. “They’re just robots. Surely she isn’t lying when she says they’ll pre-fix them?”
Resisting the urge to throw his hands up in the air, Bastian counts backward from ten in his head. “Deign isn’t a robotics specialist. You killed the most senior one we had yesterday, for whatever reason.” He holds a hand up as Dom moves to speak. “Deign is speaking from her gut. Her misguided, familially indoctrinated gut. She thinks what she is doing will protect us. Bad things with the best of intentions are still bad things.”
The silence that falls between them isn’t as comfortable as usual. Hesitance wars with uncertainty, even if it’s only in Bastian’s mind. But Dom eventually leans forward, his eyes blazingly silver in the darkness of t
he room. “If the Damascus are enabled, won’t the Hounds reunite with them?” Worry frays the edge of those words, a sure sign not all of Dom is lost.
Yet Bastian could kick himself. How could he have forgotten about the Hounds? “Once enabled, the signal they share will reactivate. I’m not sure how the handlers will be viewed, but Hounds won’t care about handlers if they have Damascus near. I need you to get to Mathur. You need to tell my brother, too.”
Dom takes a step back. “Now?”
“Yes, now!” Bastian snaps and forces himself to take a breath.
His friend doesn’t move, and there’s a strange hesitation in his stance. “Is this really my fault?” The words sound oddly human, vulnerable.
Bastian glances at his friend with a sigh. “No. Not entirely. Deign wants the source back. You just made her fast-forward the inevitable.”
Dom nods, his form shifting back to solid and smooth.
Bastian looks up at the ceiling before meeting his friend’s eyes again. “Go back, make your peace, give them this information. It’s important—no, imperative. You can take out Selwyn next time you visit.”
“How did you know?” Dom raises an eyebrow, some of his old self reflected in the half-crooked attempt at a smile.
“Because he’s as big a douche as Davis ever was, and you owe them both a world of pain. For yourself and the others. I mean, what’s one more death when the Damascus are being released?” Even as he says the words, he knows with a clarity that there’s more than revenge behind Dom’s new motivations, but right now he has to hope his friend can handle himself for a while.
Dom nods. “I will.” He heads toward the door, leaking himself gradually back into camouflage as he moves. “By the way, Bastian, the answer is yes.”
“Yes?” Bastian isn’t quite sure what his eerily disembodied friend is getting at.
“Yes, we could have taken all four out without a struggle. Though it’s probably better we didn’t.” Then his face pops out of view and the only evidence of his presence is the opening and closing of the heavy door.
Bastian sits in his chair, hammering at his own shields and hoping against hope that his bond with Dom is the only reason his friend heard his thoughts.
“I said bend your knees, not your waist, Sai.” Doctor Jeffries throws his hands up in exasperation. “You’d think you’d never had legs before.”
Sai scowls up at him through sweaty black hair. “The ones I had didn’t require instructions.”
Jeffries shakes his head and crosses his arms, impatience rolling off him in waves. “Honestly, girl. I’ve rehabilitated dozens of people with prosthetic limbs. You’re the first person I’ve come across who seems angry to have grafts.”
“Grafts are vastly different from prosthetics.” Sai pushes herself up straight and glares at the doctor. “It’s the not having my actual legs. I was a tad attached to them.”
Jeffries shrugs. “Fine, then. Wallow about how you had your legs taken from you in such an unfair manner, never learn to use the perfectly good replacements you have, and be displeased for the rest of your life. You’re not acting like a leader, anyway.”
Sai blinks and fights back a scowl. He’s right, and that’s probably what’s wrong. He’s completely right about everything. There are hundreds of people who’d give their left eyes to get the opportunity given to her. She swallows the retorts clamoring in the back of her throat.
“Squats, right?” she asks. Jeffries nods and watches her.
She never thought squats were that hard. Just bend your knees and sort of do it. But the adrium requires very specific visualization. It wants all of the tiny motions that go into the large one. Angle of the back, specific muscle contraction, levels of tension to get the body to balance into the exercise—all of it is required to trigger the click she needs to set the movement to memory. After what seems like an eternity, the adrium snaps into place and stores the motions. The weight immediately lightens, and her body reacts more like what she’s used to.
“There.” Jeffries smiles brightly. “Now you should have a much easier time with your legs. If you have any questions, send for me, but I want you to try at least thirty more squats. Keep that memory fresh and alive. Make sure it’s sealed in.”
Sai nods, not quite trusting herself to speak. The irrational part of her brain wants to scream at him because it’s not an easy thing to do. It’s nothing short of excruciating. Her shirt sticks to her body, and her hair coats the nape of her neck. She twists the soaked strands back up into a hurried ponytail to give herself some relief and starts counting.
Around twenty-eight, the room spins a couple of times. The exertion is more noticeable in her head than her body. “Just. Two. More.” The words are hard to get out, even with the breaths she has to take, but the last two squats come easier than anticipated and she flops to the ground, hoping to never have to get up again.
“Nice form.”
Startled, Sai turns around to see Kayde standing at the door and frowns. “Don’t you have work to do?” she says before realizing quite how sharp the words come out.
Kayde raises an eyebrow. “Why, yes, thank you for asking, I do, but I thought I’d come and check on you while you were still content with being a petulant child.”
Sai laughs, her stomach clenching a little at Kayde’s accuracy. “I guess I deserve that.” She pushes herself up, groaning in the process. “Knew I shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.” She stretches her aching arms. “Any other reason you’re here, or did you just come to mock my pain and battered ego?” She makes sure there’s a smile on her lips. Lately, everything she says comes out the wrong way.
“Oh, yes.” For a moment, Kayde seems slightly confused and a sight blush tints her cheeks. “Sorry. Mathur wanted me to let you know there’s an emergency meeting in three hours. News out of Central, apparently big enough that we’re waiting for Mason to come and brief us on it.”
“Okay, so a meeting, then?” A little alarmed, Sai frowns again. “It seems frivolous to interrupt your work like that, just to tell me this.” Her words trail off, and she grabs her towel to combat some of the sweat running down her back, suddenly feeling a little chilly.
“I was on a break. Not even the most evil of scientists can manage to slave away and play with chemical enhancements all day without some type of non-contaminated food source.” Kayde grins at her, and the gesture makes Sai feel slightly stupid about being paranoid.
Just as the silence begins to drag on, Kayde laughs softly. “I’ll leave you to it. See you at eighteen hundred hours in the main meeting room.” She tips a non-existent hat and exits the training room.
Sai watches her leave and shrugs to herself. “Couldn’t they have just let me know later? It’s not even lunchtime...” She takes a deep breath and stops herself from complaining more. Jeffries had a point. Time to stop being such an ungrateful little brat and start acting like the fearless leader she’s supposed to be.
Or something like that.
Sai’s footfalls leave a slight echo that emphasizes the emptiness as she takes the corridors toward the apartment she still shares with Aishke. What with people being sent to other Mobiles and the hospital wing being created here, this Mobile was turning into a headquarters. They’d even designated it Mobile Alpha as more troops arrived. Sai missed the family feel it had when she’d first gotten there.
The door to their quarters is slightly ajar and music leaks out into the corridor. Sai shakes her head and wonders if Aishke will ever understand a need for security. Just because they’re on a Mobile, in the middle of the North American wasteland, doesn’t mean everyone around them is friendly.
She opens the door to find Aishke lounging on her back, singing tunelessly along with the music and stuffing her mouth with something that looks a lot like wavy rubber tubes.
“What are you doing?” Sai asks.
Aishke jumps to her feet, a slight blush spreading across her cheeks. “Sorry,” she says as she rushes over
to turn the volume of the music down, still munching on whatever it is that’s dangling out of her mouth.
“What are you eating?” A red strip hangs from Aishke’s teeth, giving Sai strange visions of entrails.
“Oh!” Aishke gulps it down and dives for the packet on the coffee table. “They’re something that Iria calls raspberry licorice. Tastes amazing, Sai!”
Sai raises an eyebrow and pushes the packet away from her face when Aishke holds it out to her. “I think I’m fine with my digestive system intact, thanks. That doesn’t look appetizing at all. I thought you were eating intestines.”
“Intestines?” Aishke pulls a face, and they both laugh. She seems so different since Sai woke up, like she’s coming out of her shell, bit by bit.
“You’re doing well, then, Ash?” Sai asks, her tone a little more serious than she originally intended. “I mean, you’re adapting well to being here?
Ash nods her head up and down vigorously. “While you were sleeping, Mason spent some time with me. I haven’t seen him in years, you know... I missed him.” There’s a wistful tone to her voice and she giggles. “He’s more like a big brother now, though. He never really felt like my dad, but Mom... Well...”
Just as quickly, the shadow crosses her face and Sai can see the girl fight with her memories and barely win.
“You know, if you need to, you can talk to me, Ash.” Sai reaches out and pets the girl’s hand briefly, just enough to reassure her and not enough to scare her.
“I know.” Aishke raises her chin, blue eyes wide. “There’s something I need to show you. Something that scares me, that I can’t show to anyone else.”
Ash’s tone cautions Sai. “Why does it scare you?”
“Because it makes me a monster. It’s so easy, Sai. Do you think accidentally killing my mother turned me into a demon?” A couple of tears escape her eyes, and she wipes them away impatiently.
“No, Ash. You get scared when you think you might hurt someone, which means you have a good heart. You fought alongside me in the facility and helped save all those people.”
