Star Rebels: Stories of Space Exploration, Alien Races, and Adventure

by Audrey Faye

  If he could beat one of the smartest scientists in the building at a game he’d only just learned…he could beat them at the biggest game of all. And he would. Because now, he had an ally who was just as smart as he was.

  Lexa changed everything.

  That thought exploded through him like a stunner blast. Doc Mendal had told him once, quietly enough that the cameras wouldn’t hear, that he would become the fastest, smartest, strongest creature in the Precipice labs—maybe even Triarch City—given enough time and training. If that was true…then Lexa would be just as strong, just as smart, and just as fast as Quinn. Eventually, they would have the ability to break free.

  And maybe even burn this place to the ground with Miss Maren and Piers still inside.

  Quinn hugged himself. This was a dangerous way of thinking. He had to wait, be patient. He and Lexa weren’t strong enough to do any of this yet, and if he kept that idea in the front of his brain, it would eventually come spilling out. Good thing he was a planner, a plotter. He’d befriend Lexa, just as expected, and slowly teach her that they could be an unstoppable force if only they stuck together.

  Armed with his new plan, Quinn dressed and hurried down to Dr. Martine’s office. Unlike Miss Maren’s suite, his office was smaller. His walls were covered with plaques: diplomas, awards, and certifications. At one time, Quinn thought he’d like to become a geneticist like Dr. Martine, but Miss Maren had carefully stamped out his ambitions. She wanted him to be something else, so there was no sense dreaming about a life in science.

  “Will you sit?” Dr. Martine asked.

  Quinn jumped. “Um, yes, sir.”

  He sank into the worn leather chair across from the doctor’s desk and folded his hands in his lap. Dr. Martine’s mouth quirked up on one side. “Young man, you don’t have to be so rigid here. I’m not going to rap your knuckles if you touch anything.”

  Quinn’s eyes widened. Maybe he meant it, but Piers would punish him for breaking something, no matter what Dr. Martine said. Still, he unclenched his fists and let his leg jiggle like it always wanted to when he was nervous.

  “Better.” The doctor leaned his elbows on the desk, peering intently at Quinn before saying, “Lexa asked about you this morning.”

  “Really?” He paused; that had sounded too eager. “She remembered me? That’s a good sign of cognitive development.”

  Dr. Martine’s mouth twitched again. “Uh huh. Anyway, I’d like you to see her again this afternoon after you’ve finished your homework.”

  He wanted to. The sooner she got to know and trust him, the sooner they could escape. But Piers’s “reminder” was still too fresh to ignore. Rubbing the sore spot on his side, he said, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, sir. I might stress her and disrupt the imprinting process.”

  “I know you’ve been…” He grimaced. “You may’ve been told not to interfere with Lexa, but I believe she needs you, and I’ll make sure you aren’t punished for it. In fact, I had that conversation with Ms. DeGaul this morning. She wants you to be friends, and the best way to accomplish that is to let Lexa interact with you.”

  None of this made sense to Quinn. But it didn’t have to make sense—he was getting what he wanted. Better not to question the luck involved. “If you think it’s all right, I’ll come to the imprinting room at four. I have to meet Dr. Mendal at five-thirty, though.”

  That earned him a relieved smile. “Good.”

  Lexa stared at the glass, her expression torn between hope and fear. Quinn could feel her pain. Why, he didn’t know, but it was as real to him as if he was the one sitting inside the prep room. A moment later, her lip trembled and fat tears slid down her cheeks. For the first time, her complexion took on a slightly pink color.

  “Her vitals are erratic,” a lab assistant said. “Pulse is one-forty, temp’s over ninety-nine degrees.”

  Dr. Martine nodded. “Quinn, I want to see if you can calm her down. If she glitches, take a step back immediately, but I think her short-term memory programming should be strong enough to prevent that.”

  He hoped so, but his fingers shook as he donned his cleanroom suit. What if she freaked out on him again? They might not let him see her anymore. He had to be careful. Move slowly, so as not to scare her.

  The airlocks released, and Quinn stepped into Lexa’s room. Her face immediately brightened, and she scrubbed the tears from her cheeks with a fast swipe.

  “You’re here,” she said. “You told me you’d come.”

  “You…remember me?”

  “Yes. The boy from yesterday. Quinn.”

  Relief made the air whoosh from his lungs. He’d never held his breath before, but this wasn’t a normal situation, so maybe he should’ve expected that. “Yes. So, how are you feeling?”

  Lexa looked around the room. “I’m not sure. I cried, but I don’t know why.”

  “Are you scared?” he asked.

  She frowned, like she was thinking that over. “Yes. I think so. It’s lonely in here.”

  Quinn glanced at the window, which was a mirror on this side. Dr. Martine noticed, though, and said over his com, “Her heart rate’s down. Keep going.”

  It was working; he was calming her down. “You’ll be out in a little while. They need to…um, treat you a little bit longer. But when it’s over, you’ll have a room in the dorm near mine. We can play.”

  “Hide and seek. Sofa cushions,” she said.

  “Sofa cushions.” He paused. What should they talk about now? “Um, I also like painting and color matching and strategy games. I could teach you to play chess.”

  “Is it fun?”

  Dr. Martine said, “Tell her you’ll give her a board in a few days.”

  “Uh, yes. It’s fun. Kind of hard, though. Maybe I can bring you a board in a few days? I can show you the pieces and stuff.”

  She stood and took a tentative step his direction. “Okay.”

  Quinn held very still as she came closer. Even though he wore the clean-room suit, he swore he could smell her. Some vague combination of cinnamon and vanilla.

  “Like a cookie,” he whispered.

  There was a crackle of static over his com—someone was laughing. He felt his cheeks go hot.

  “What’s wrong with your face?” Lexa asked, peering into his mask. “Are you overheating?”

  “A little. I better go.”

  Lexa’s hand shot out more quickly than he expected and caught his wrist. “But you’re coming back, right? Please don’t leave me here all alone.”

  Helpless, he looked to the window, silently pleading. Dr. Martine’s voice was gentle when he said, “Reassure her.”

  He put his other hand over hers and smiled. “You’re not alone, Lexa. You have me. I’m yours, and when you get out, we’ll be together all the time. Friends, okay?”

  “Will I see you before then?”

  “She’s getting anxious,” Dr. Martine said over his com. “Tell her yes.”

  “Yes.” Feeling bold, he added, “Tomorrow. I’ll bring the chess board.”

  She released his wrist and went back to sit on her bed. “Tomorrow. You have less than 86,000 seconds to comply.”

  It sounded like an order, and he cracked a smile. “Noted. Are you going to count them all?”

  “Yes.” She smiled back. “Every one.”

  Quinn raced to the prep room after lessons the next day, the day after that, and the day after that. Each time he visited, Dr. Martine and the lab assistants praised him for helping stabilize Lexa. She’d even hugged him. It had hurt against his healing ribs, but he remembered the feeling of her arms around him long after he left her.

  On the fifth day, he hurried down the hall, a brand new chessboard clutched to his chest. It had taken a while to get this one, but he thought she might find the cartoon character pieces more fun than the more traditional kind. She was picking up the game fast, and Dr. Martine said she played by herself, memorizing the board, so she could reset their game before Quinn returned ea
ch day.

  She was remarkable—everything he’d hoped for. He found he couldn’t wait to see her. And with two boards, she could play her own game and reserve the other for theirs. The anticipation of how she would receive the gift filled him with gladness. He’d never had the chance to surprise someone like this. It would be fun.

  He was a few steps from the door to the lab when he heard Miss Maren’s raised voice.

  “She’s flawed, Caldwell. Her vitals are erratic, and the only time she’s compliant is when Quinn is here. We should start over now, before we’ve wasted too many resources.”

  “My dear, you haven’t given it enough time,” Dr. Martine said. “And you wanted her to be keyed for Quinn, remember? It makes sense that she’d feel most comfortable around him. Let’s give it two years—she may yet be useful. Besides, I need the research data for the 800s.”

  “All I know is that my interaction with her was unsatisfactory. The program should be scrapped.”

  Quinn’s heart stuttered. Scrapped? Was she saying she wanted to kill Lexa? A surge of rage rushed through his body. They wouldn’t kill her. She was his special friend. If they wanted to kill Lexa, it would be over his dead body—and a bunch of theirs.

  He leaned against the wall, terrified by his thoughts. When had he gotten so violent? Was this the jealousy his human psychology teacher had tried to teach him about? Or was it something bigger? Dr. Martine was saying something about funding and protocol, but the words were lost in the rush of blood between Quinn’s ears. What would he do if Lexa was scrapped?

  His heart ached. The one person who was supposed to be like him, to be his partner in all things as they grew up, couldn’t be scrapped.

  A pair of heels click-clacked toward the door, and he quietly ran down the hall, then turned to walk back just as Miss Maren left the lab, to make it look like he was just arriving. Quinn forced a smile as they passed one another and held up the chessboard.

  “Dr. Martine said the intellectual stimulation has been working, so I brought her another board.”

  She cut a glance at him out of the corner of her eye. “Keep an eye on her. If she glitches or cycles out at any time, I expect you to report it to me immediately.”

  Quinn clutched the chessboard back to his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She nodded and swept by, leaving him in a cloud of floral perfume. He trudged the rest of the way to the prep room, feeling heavy and uncertain. If Miss Maren questioned him about Lexa, he’d be forced to tell the truth or his shoulder twitch would give him away.

  He just had to hope Lexa didn’t glitch—or if she did, that he wasn’t there to see it so he could deny knowing anything.

  The prep room was quiet when he entered. Dr. Martine stood at his usual terminal, looking weary. The other two assistants cowered behind their screens, typing madly, as if work could make them invisible. He rolled his eyes. If they wanted lessons in becoming invisible, the first rule was to hold still.

  No one noticed him standing there. The second rule—being the least important person in the room. He cleared his throat. “Sir? I’m here for my visit?”

  Dr. Martine jumped. “Oh, I didn’t see you there. Um, we need to delay your visit a few days, Quinn. I’m sorry about that, but Lexa’s been somewhat unstable today.”

  “Maybe I can calm her down,” he said. “I could try.”

  “Sorry. No one goes in or out for forty-eight hours,” a cold voice said from the doorway.

  Quinn turned, and a nasty smirk spread across Piers’s face. “The subject is to be isolated until her color protocol is complete. Ms. DeGaul’s orders. No disruptions during a critical phase.”

  Forty-eight hours? That was two days. But he knew Piers wanted an excuse to punish him. Better to continue showing the techs how to be invisible, even when talking to someone.

  “Yes, sir. Understood.” He turned to Dr. Martine. “Will you message me when you’d like me to return?”

  Dr. Martine’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Of course he saw through Quinn’s sudden change of heart. “I will. She should be done processing in time for you to come back on Friday after your studies.”

  Quinn nodded and walked slowly from the room like he didn’t care one bit about the whole thing. Piers was blocking the hallway. He poked a finger into Quinn’s chest. “Remember. Be a good little Bolt, or you’ll see me again.”

  Quinn said nothing. That seemed to satisfy Piers because he let him pass. Quinn kept his pace slow the entire way to his room, though his feet felt like they were made of lead and his heart felt made of fire. Two days. He set the new chessboard on his desk and his mood plummeted farther when he saw the blinking icon of a message. Doc Mendal had called. What would it be this time? Scaling a building without an anchor?

  He tapped the icon and Doc’s face filled the feed screen on the second ring. “Boy, put on your climbing gear. Got a treat for you.”

  Quinn groaned quietly. “Yes, sir. Um, my ribs are still a bit sore. Will that be an issue?”

  Doc grimaced. “Shouldn’t be. Meet me downstairs by the front doors in ten minutes.”

  “Where are we going?” Quinn asked as they left the main grounds of Miss Maren’s lakeside compound. He’d been allowed outside in the yard—even without supervision—but he was rarely allowed to go off property.

  “Partway around the lake, there’s a set of metal piers and towers. We’re going to climb some.”

  That sounded suspicious. Doc Mendal’s “treats” usually involved some sort of challenge, but climbing a tower was easy. Unless he was going to make Quinn climb it blindfolded. Now that would be hard.

  They hiked in silence, but it was comfortable. Doc was one of the few adults who didn’t require him to speak. Quinn let the quiet of the lake seep into his skin and bones while soaking up the sunlight. Even though they’d entered the public grounds, the scrubby grasses around the lake grew wild, and nothing stirred, save a few small animals. He projected his hearing, listening hard to the little sounds they made.

  “Moles,” he said to Doc. “I can hear their claws rubbing together.”

  “That’s crazy,” Doc answered. “I don’t think you’re busy enough if you can guess the animal based on the sound of their claws from forty yards away.”

  “And smell and logical reasoning,” he said. “It wasn’t a random guess.”

  “Not yet ten years old and smarter than most adults,” Doc muttered. “What the hell are we doing?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Nothing. Keep moving. We’re almost there.”

  The piers and towers appeared at the next rise. The ground was rocky here as the grass receded from the lakeshore. The metal structures were rusting, and parts had corroded, but they looked sturdy enough. Doc led him over to the first platform. “Up you go. Hands only.”

  Quinn kept his grumble to himself. So much for not hurting his ribs. He stood on tiptoe to grab the first strut and pulled himself up to balance his body against it so he could reach for the next handhold. It was slow work, but about halfway up, he realized his side didn’t ache so much.

  When Doc made it to the top and sat next to him on the narrow platform, he said, “I do good work, huh?”

  Quinn laughed. “I always wondered who coded our accelerated healing. Maybe you’re not the evil taskmaster I thought you were.”

  “Or maybe I wanted you to heal faster so I could train you harder.”

  “That sounds more right.”

  They sat quietly for a moment, and Quinn took in the beauty of Triarch City. From here, the skyscrapers downtown looked like dominoes, stacked together and ready to tumble. It had been six months since he’d been allowed to visit, but he still remembered all the smells and the relentless noise of the cars, video boards, and foot traffic all around him. So many inputs, so much chaos… It had been hard for his brain to process it all. There were no patterns to find in that mess.

  “So, you haven’t asked why we’re out here, yet,” Doc said.

  �
�I’ve learned not to pry,” Quinn said without thinking. He shot a nervous glance at Doc. “Sorry. That was flippant. I just, uh, thought you’d tell me when you were ready.”

  But Doc was laughing. “Good, I was worried they’d beaten the backbone out of you. Anyway, we’re out here… Well, why don’t you guess?”

  The breeze played with Quinn’s curls, lifting them from his forehead only to drop them again. It was so quiet here. So still. “No cameras. You can make it look like a nature lesson or a practice hike, but also take me to a place that’s unobserved.”

  “Exactly.” Doc sighed. “I assume you know Maren’s not excited about Lexa.”

  Quinn admired his confidence—to call the boss by her first name alone. “I heard.”

  “Do you know why?”

  A thrill ran down his back. “No.”

  “She’s worried Caldwell is too attached. To both of you, but especially Lexa, since he was primary on her build team. That makes him vulnerable, and Maren doesn’t like vulnerabilities in her lab.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” Quinn asked carefully, wondering if this was some kind of test. Maybe there were cameras out here, or a drone, monitoring their entire conversation.

  “Because you need to know a few of us are attached. To all of you. That we care more than we can let on.” Doc’s stare was intent. “Do you know what a slave is?”

  “Yes,” he whispered.

  “Quinn…are you a slave?”

  Tears welled in his eyes. “Why are we talking about these things?”

  “Because you need to know who you are. Not what, son. Who,” Doc said. “You matter. Lexa matters. The earlier models matter. Those K600s who take care of you in the dorm? They aren’t any less human than I am. Understand? Piers would tell you otherwise. So would Maren. But guess what? They’re wrong.”

  “I know you’re planning something, and I want you to know that you’re not alone.” Doc tapped a finger against Quinn’s chest. “Some painful things are probably going to happen to you—Lexa, too—but if you choose to put the pain somewhere constructive, it’ll give you purpose. Understand? Like trying to break your security protocols, so you can lie effectively. You’ll need that skill, and you can do it. I’ll give you some exercises to try, because it’s important. But I know you can do it.”