The Elderon Chronicles Box Set

by Tarah Benner

  I throw open the door to the newsroom, ready to rip Alex a new one, when my insides seize with sudden panic.

  Alex is sitting at the news desk behind a wall of glass. She’s wearing a black vest over a long-sleeve white blouse and a pair of fierce leather pants. Her hair is pulled into a messy bun, held in place by her favorite red chopsticks. I see a bunch of familiar faces, but no one turns to look at me.

  Everyone is sitting at their designated desks, buried in their work. Four bots are standing around the glass box that forms the conference room, watching the broadcast with the same critical expression.

  I don’t move. I don’t breathe. The bots haven’t seen me yet. They seem to be waiting for Alex to slip up — to say something that she shouldn’t.

  I glance from the producer to the other reporters at their desks. They’re bent over under the pretense of work, but their eyes are trained on Alex. Alex’s gaze is fixed on the teleprompter, looking like a hostage being held at gunpoint.

  As Alex talks, I can read the strain around her eyes. Mordecai is making her do this.

  Finally the broadcast ends, and Alex signs off without a smile. She looks pale and a little queasy as she gets up and clacks across the room.

  “You happy?” she growls at the bot, pulling off her mic and shoving it at the humanoid.

  “Please prepare for the next broadcast,” says the bot in a neutral tone.

  “What’s there to prepare?” Alex grumbles. “It’s already written.”

  Alex strides toward her desk in her signature spiky boots, and her eyes snap on to me.

  She looks as though she’s seen a ghost. None of the others have spotted me yet, and neither have the bots. Alex shoots me a wide-eyed look, and I back slowly out of the room.

  “I’m gonna take a piss,” I hear Alex say to no one in particular.

  A human might be able to catch the lilt in her voice, but the bot seems unconcerned. “Please be back in five minutes to prepare for the broadcast.”

  I glance up and down the hallway, my heart pounding in my throat. The hall is still deserted, but I feel dangerously exposed.

  Alex appears outside the door, her mouth clenched like someone with lockjaw. I know it’s not safe to talk out here, but I’m dying to attack Alex with questions. She’s wearing copious layers of stage makeup, but I can see the nervous flush in her cheeks. She knows what’s at risk if we are caught. She must have seen how this plays out.

  She turns to her left without a word and walks briskly down the hallway. I follow her at a careful distance, and she leads me to the nearest bathroom.

  As soon as we’re inside, I open my mouth to speak, but Alex holds up a hand. She hunkers down in her tight leather pants, checking under the stalls while I hover by the sinks.

  Once she’s convinced that we’re alone, Alex kicks open one of the stall doors, pulls off her Optix, and sets it on the toilet-paper dispenser. She pumps the flusher with one spiky black boot and leans against the door to take a drag from her e-cigarette.

  Alex is smart. She knows the Optix network is being watched. She knows that nothing is private.

  “Holy shit,” I whisper.

  “Holy shit is right.” Alex inhales with such deep relief that it makes me long for a cigarette. “What are you doing here, Barnes?”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  Alex takes another healthy drag, hands shaking with nerves. “What do you think?” Her eyes dart from side to side. “Mordecai has taken over — he and his army of bimbo bots.”

  “When?”

  Alex exhales, and a cloud of vapor hovers in the air. “He came over the intercom yesterday at lunchtime, and a bunch of bots marched into my newsroom. He said Elderon has implemented martial law . . . for our own safety, apparently.”

  “The Space Force?”

  Alex shakes her head. “The bots. They put down the Space Force just after you left. The Space Force lost a couple hundred — maybe more.”

  “A couple hundred?” My heart beats faster. This is so much worse than I thought. “Can’t the feds call in reinforcements?”

  “They’re dead.”

  I stare at her. “All of them?”

  Alex nods. “We all tried to make contact with Earth after Mordecai’s little stunt, but the Optix network was down. No communication to Earth is going out — except this bullshit newscast.”

  I lean back against the sink, fighting a spell of dizziness. Mordecai doesn’t waste any time. He’s already got his own propaganda machine.

  “So you can’t get an SOS out over the news?”

  Alex shakes her head. “I have to read exactly what the teleprompter gives me.” She lowers her voice. “They kill anyone who disobeys. We already lost Ted.”

  “Ted?”

  I get a little kick of guilt. Ted is the Topfold tech guy with the man ponytail I always hated.

  Alex nods. “He refused to write up the news according to Mordecai. One of the bimbo bots gutted him right in the middle of the newsroom.”

  My stomach drops, and I hold back a shudder. I can’t believe how bad it’s gotten.

  “Why did you come back?” snaps Alex. “You escaped. You were safe.”

  “I need Tripp’s help.”

  Alex shakes her head. “What’s up with you and Van de Graaf, anyway?”

  “Nothing,” I say, feeling slightly defensive. “I just need him to give his testimony. Zephyr Morgan framed Jonah at Mordecai’s request.”

  “Jonah? As in your sexy sergeant Jonah?”

  I don’t know how to respond to that. Jonah isn’t my sexy anything. I mean, he’s sexy, but he isn’t . . .

  “He isn’t a terrorist,” I stammer. “He only blew up that building to save Mordecai’s hostages.”

  Alex gives me a funny look. “Wait, you were there?”

  “Yeah.”

  Her eyes bulge in disbelief. She looks impressed — almost envious.

  “So what’s Mordecai’s end game?” I ask. “To defeat the Space Force? Discredit them?”

  Alex turns around and flushes the toilet. “I think he wants bot rule — and to isolate us as much as possible. He wants to beat the Space Force into submission, and he doesn’t want the military interfering. I think he knows he can’t fight a war on two fronts. To keep Elderon, he needs to control it.”

  Alex stops to take a drag, and I try to analyze what she just said.

  Elderon certainly has the resources to prevent hostile vessels from getting too close, but those resources all involve the Space Force. In order for Mordecai to prevent US shuttles from firing on the colony, he has to maintain control of the Space Force.

  “I need to talk to Tripp,” I say finally. “He’s the only one who can clear Jonah’s name, and he’ll be able to talk to Ziva. We’re going to need her help.”

  “Good luck with that,” says Alex, flushing the toilet again.

  “What?”

  “Maverick’s on lockdown. No one’s going in or out.”

  My heart sinks. I think of Ping with his broken leg. The last I saw of him, he was in Tripp’s office. If Maverick is on lockdown, it means he’s trapped, too.

  Alex purses her lip. It’s not like her — holding her tongue.

  “What?”

  Alex blows out a puff of vapor. “Honestly? I’m not even sure that Van de Graaf’s alive.”

  My chest tightens. “Why do you say that?”

  “No one’s heard from him. He can’t be reached. Believe me — I’ve tried.”

  I shake my head. “Mordecai still needs him. Tripp controls most of the company.”

  Alex gives me a look that says I’m in denial. “Maverick’s stock took a nosedive this morning. The entire tech sector is in the toilet.” She takes another drag. “Mordecai doesn’t care about the company. All he cares about is controlling the space station.”

  I don’t believe it. Tripp has to be alive. I can’t accept that he might be dead. Mordecai wouldn’t kill him. I can’t imagine Elderon without him.


  “What about Ziva?” I ask.

  Alex shrugs. “No one has seen or heard from her in days. I assume Mordecai killed her, too.”

  “No.”

  Alex turns off her e-cigarette and tucks it into her vest pocket. She goes to the sink to wash her hands, taking in her painted reflection. “If I were her, I’d kill myself,” she says thoughtfully, “before Mordecai drug my name through the mud.”

  She catches my eye in the vanity mirror, brushing the wispy hairs from her face. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I had to,” I say.

  Alex gives me a sideways look.

  “Jonah is in jail, and Mordecai —”

  “Mordecai is waaaay out of your league. And Wyatt is a grown man.”

  “He shouldn’t be taking the fall for this. He was trying to save those people.”

  “Hey,” says Alex. “I get it. Wyatt is yummy. But you have to look at the big picture.” She fixes me with a serious look. “If Mordecai finds out you’re here making trouble, you’re as good as dead.”

  7

  Maggie

  Alex leaves me alone in the bathroom with my spiraling thoughts. I can’t believe how quickly Mordecai managed to take control of Elderon. He just began his reign of tyranny, and already his bots have decimated the Space Force, taken the press corps hostage, and caused a ripple of fear to spread throughout the entire colony.

  Alex is right. Mordecai won’t hesitate to kill me if he learns I’m here. I have to find Tripp and Ping and formulate a plan. I came here to clear Jonah’s name, but that’s not our most pressing problem. We need to get a message to Earth to ask the military for reinforcements.

  But Alex was right about something else, too: Mordecai can’t fight a war on two fronts. He needs the Space Force to fend off attacks from Earth. Only they can operate the weapons Mordecai will need to thwart the US military. If the Space Force won’t fight, Mordecai won’t be able to hold Elderon.

  Taking a deep breath, I peer out into the hallway. I see two bots approaching and duck back inside. They’re headed for the tech sector, but I don’t think they saw me.

  These bots must be fresh off the shuttle. Mordecai is probably holed up in BlumBot headquarters, issuing his orders from a desktop. There’s no reason for him to venture out when he has eyes all over the colony.

  Waiting to make sure the bots are gone, I look around the corner and make a break for the stairwell. I thunder down the steps and head straight for the barracks. I need a place to regroup away from Mordecai’s spies.

  I emerge on the lower deck and turn to cut through the defense sector. A few seconds later, I hear footsteps approaching.

  They’re slow and shuffling, coming up behind me. The steps are too irregular to belong to any bot, but they still make my stomach clench.

  I look around. There’s nowhere to run. I’m too far away from the stairwell door, standing in a deserted hallway.

  I wheel around just as two figures come shuffling around the corner. The first is walking backwards at a slow and cumbersome pace. The other is slouched forward as though carrying a heavy load. They’re human.

  I watch in confusion as the men draw nearer, and a dark cloud of despair unfurls in my chest. They’re wearing Space Force blues. Their faces are strained. They’re hunching under the weight of a stretcher, which is covered in a bloody white sheet.

  I swallow. I don’t know who’s under there, but it could be someone I know. I meet the gaze of the man facing forward, and a flicker of understanding passes between us. He doesn’t recognize me — I’m not wearing the uniform — but it doesn’t matter. I’m human.

  I lower my head out of respect as they pass, and my heart drops to my knees. The body they’re carrying represents hundreds who came to Elderon for an exciting new life. They thought they’d be fighting cyberterrorism or eavesdropping on the Russians. They never thought they’d leave in ashes.

  Once the men are out of sight, I keep walking toward the barracks. My footsteps grow heavier with every step I take, and suddenly I realize how ill-equipped we are to fight the bots.

  They’re superior to humans in every possible way. They’re faster. They’re stronger. They share a hive mind. They fight with precision and never grow tired.

  But then I remember the girl from the shuttle who joined their ranks undetected. Someone — and I don’t know who — has infiltrated Mordecai’s army. She could be a fed or maybe a spy, but I’m convinced she’s on our side.

  As I approach the main hallway of the defense sector, I become aware of the hum of activity. People are moving without speaking. It’s strange — even for the Space Force. It feels like walking into a wake.

  I round the corner to the main hallway, and a swoop of nausea hits me like a punch to the stomach. I’m staring down a tunnel filled with bodies — at least a hundred lining the hall. Some of the bodies are covered in sheets, but many are just lying there.

  I recoil, stumbling back on my heels, when an officer looks up and spots me.

  “Hey!” he yells. “You can’t be down here!”

  “Sorry,” I choke, fighting a surge of bile rising up in my throat. I feel as though I might be sick. I’ve never seen so much death.

  The officer is coming at me, his face twisted in a mask of fury. It’s dirty and sweaty and contorted with anger. His eyes are red with exhaustion.

  “There’s a mandatory curfew for all civilians,” he barks. “Why are you out of your suite?”

  “I-I-I’m going,” I manage, stumbling back and tripping on my own feet.

  But as the officer draws closer, his expression changes. He’s crossing over from slightly pissed off to dangerously furious.

  “I know you,” he says slowly. “You’re that journalist from the press corps.”

  At those words, a few other Space Force people start to take notice. Several look up from what they’re doing, trying to see what the commotion is about.

  I shake my head. I don’t want to make a scene. I just want to escape from the hall.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” the officer snarls. “This isn’t entertainment. It’s a goddamn mass grave!”

  “I’m not —”

  “Get the fuck out!”

  “Okay!” I cry, holding up my hands. Tears are welling up in my throat, and people are starting to stare. I’m surrendering to my own shock and fear. I just want to get out.

  But then a familiar face surfaces from the crowd. She has mocha skin, curly black hair, and a naturally surly expression.

  “Jones?”

  It takes a moment for my alias to register in my brain. I squint at the girl staring back at me, and Adra’s face clicks in my mind.

  “Kholi!” barks the officer. “Get back to work!”

  But Adra is already striding toward me, ignoring the man who clearly outranks her.

  “I’ll escort Ms. Jones out,” she says, tossing me a look of disgust.

  The officer frowns. “Fine. But move your ass. We need the dead prepped for final destination.”

  I only have half a second to wonder what “final destination” the man is referring to before Adra digs her fingernails into my arm and drags me down the hall.

  “Ow! Stop!” I cry, ripping my arm away. I look around for the angry officer, but he’s already returned to his work. “Adra! Can we talk?”

  “What’s there to talk about?” she snaps. “We all know you’re full of shit.”

  “That’s a little harsh,” I mutter.

  In truth, I did lie about my identity to gain access to the Space Force and spend three weeks pretending to be someone I wasn’t, but that wasn’t personal. I was only doing my job, and I would have come clean with her if I’d had the chance.

  “Harsh?” Adra snarls. “Are you kidding?”

  She shoots me another withering look before tightening her grip on my arm.

  “Ouch! Geez! Will you let me explain?”

  “What’s there to explain?” Adra growls. �
��That you lied to me? That you lied to Wyatt? That you got him arrested and then came back here so you could pick right back up at your pathetic job?”

  Ouch. That really hurts.

  “No! Stop!” I yank my arm away and turn on the spot to force Adra to look at me. “That’s why I need to talk to you.”

  But Adra’s face is twisted in hatred. Maybe it was a mistake thinking she might help. Why should she trust me at all?

  “Please,” I whisper. “Five minutes. But it has to be in private.”

  Adra glances back down the hall toward the officer who first told me off.

  “Fine,” she mutters. “Meet me in the barracks in five minutes. My room.”

  “Okay.” I notice she doesn’t say “our room.” I guess it stopped being our room when I left Elderon to go to Earth with Jonah — or when she learned I was a journalist.

  I duck down the hallway and head for the barracks, feeling another twitch of paranoia. There’s no way Mordecai isn’t monitoring the defense sector. Otherwise it would be too easy for the Space Force to plot a coup, and he needs to maintain tight control. He must be watching the security feeds, which means every second I’m exposed risks Mordecai discovering I’m here.

  I jog down the hallway toward our pod and find the barracks completely deserted. The door prompts me for my biometric credentials, and I draw back my hand as though I’ve been burned. Keying into Adra’s room would be like sending up a beacon broadcasting my whereabouts. I can’t afford to take that risk.

  Feeling antsy, I sink down against the wall and wait for Adra to arrive. She seems to take her sweet-ass time, and it’s at least ten minutes before she storms into the lounge.

  When her eyes latch on to me, her fury seems to magnify. She really does hate my guts, and she doesn’t bother to hide it.

  “Why are you still sitting out here? The room’s still registered to you.”

  “Mordecai can’t know I’m here.”

  “Because you’re so important.”

  I ignore this little jab as Adra keys in with her fingerprints, facial scan, and voice-recognition cue. I walk in after her and shut the door, relieved to be away from the cameras.