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

by Audrey Faye

  “Yes, ma’am,” Preston answered.

  Quinn and Lexa crawled faster until they tumbled out into the service entrance behind a stack of crates. The cook was tearfully accepting a ride from one of the security guards. When Maren dismissed someone, she didn’t mess around.

  Once they were gone, the two of them scrambled upstairs, using a route Lexa had developed that avoided the security sweeps. The first time she’d sneaked into the training room while Doc watched all the security feeds without seeing her, he’d tossed her in the air, laughing.

  Now, it gave them the run of the entire house, except for Maren’s quarters, of course. They still hadn’t figured out how to leave the grounds without being caught, but Quinn was working on it. These little incursions were training for that day.

  They stumbled into the training room, panting and laughing.

  “I wish we could’ve seen the look on her face,” Lexa said. “She was so mean, I’m glad she got kicked out.”

  “Me, too, even if her snickerdoodles were the best out of the last three cooks.” Quinn sighed. “Does it ever strike you as weird that the two of us live here, eating Maren’s food, instead of the Precipice dorms downtown?”

  “Miss Maren,” Lexa said, shooting a glance at the door. “But I hadn’t really thought about that. I mean, the security artificials live here. So do Preston and the cleaning staff. Why wouldn’t we live here, too?”

  “Yes, but we have special instructors, combat training, expensive tutors.” He lowered his voice. “They’re preparing us for something. Doc hinted about that once, and he has to be right. But for what?”

  “I don’t—”

  Lexa’s answer was cut short by the sound of footsteps in the hall. They split apart, Quinn hurrying to start up a computer simulation he’d been running and Lexa to shimmy up a rope to the ceiling.

  A moment later, Maren, Piers, Doc, and Dr. Martine entered the room. Dr. Martine looked stern—a bad sign. Doc looked blank. Another bad sign.

  “What did you do?” Maren’s voice carried through the open space, bouncing off every hard surface to rebound back to her. “One of my guests went into anaphylactic shock because she’s allergic to cayenne pepper.”

  Lexa let out a squeak in the rafters, and Maren fixed her death-ray stare on her. “Oh, yes. That little prank nearly killed someone.”

  “Miss Maren,” Quinn said, to deflect the attention away from Lexa. “What are you talking about?”

  A muscle ticked in her jaw. “Someone put a bunch of salt and cayenne in our soup. The cook swore to security that she didn’t do it. I had to make a public example of someone, and she was on warning already, so I let her go. But the moment we figured out what was wrong, I knew who was behind such a childish and insolent trick.”

  Quinn sat completely still. She hadn’t asked a question, so he wasn’t obligated to say anything. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lexa climbing all the way to the top platform in the corner of the room. When she got there, she hugged her knees to her chest.

  Maren noticed her distress, too. “Lexa, dear. Come down. Now.” She turned to Dr. Martine. “See, she’s trouble. And now, she’s corrupting Quinn. I can’t have my investment tainted by a failed experiment.”

  Dr. Martine opened his mouth, then shut it, like he had no idea what to say.

  When Lexa came to stand before them, she bowed her head so her hair hung in her face. He could practically smell her desperation. She couldn’t lie, so if they asked her a direct question, she’d have to answer or her security programming would give her away. That shoulder twitch would be her undoing—permanently.

  Maren walked over and put a finger under her chin to force her to look up. “The cookies last week, hiding my data pad yesterday, and now this? Why did you do it? I ought to let Piers take care of you, but maybe it’s time to terminate your program if you can’t—”

  Quinn leapt to his feet. “It was my idea. All of it. I dragged Lexa into it.”

  Lexa shook her head, her eyes pleading with him. The cookies had been her idea, but he’d take the blame for all of it. He didn’t know why Maren hated Lexa and not him, but he’d use that to their advantage to keep her safe and whole.

  “Well, I must say I’m very disappointed,” Maren said. “Caldwell, take Lexa to her room. Quinn, you’ll go with Piers.”

  “No!” Lexa screamed, fighting her way free of Dr. Martine. Before she could reach Quinn, though, Doc grabbed her arms and held her back. “No! Let me go! Don’t take Quinn. Take me!”

  “Quinn’s already admitted his guilt,” Maren said, obviously enjoying Lexa’s fear. “Dr. Mendal, remove her…and give her a sedative.”

  “She won’t remember what happened if we do,” Doc warned.

  “Exactly.” Maren went to Quinn and gripped his shoulder tight enough to bruise. “I want her to have no memory of this, so Quinn can bear his punishment alone.”

  They dragged a howling Lexa from the room. Maren shook her head. “I see why Dr. Mendal calls her Hellcat. She’s about as feral as an alley stray. There are days I question the wisdom of creating you a helpmate. So far, it hasn’t worked out exactly like the old Bible stories claimed. Then again, I’m not sure you’ve developed a strong enough personality to make her submit to you properly.” She released his shoulder. “I expect that, from here on out, you’ll take a firm hand with Lexa. She’s yours to control and your responsibility. You have the ability to work people over to your will. You’ll do that with Lexa, or she’s finished.”

  Quinn’s stomach twisted in misery. Bend Lexa to his will? He’d sooner be able to control the wind than restrain her. Besides, that sounded like a good way to make her hate him forever.

  Could he be rough with her to save her life, though? Because that might be his only choice.

  “Now,” Maren said, “Piers will provide a lesson in what it means to cross me.”

  “Come on, beanpole.” Piers grabbed his arm. “Downstairs we go.”

  Once they were in the stairwell, the frustration and anger about his situation finally got the better of him. “I weigh almost as much as you. So who’s the beanpole now, stickman?”

  Oh, gears… Had his mouth malfunctioned?

  Piers laughed. “There’s a difference between wiry and weak, moron.” He slammed Quinn against the wall, and the stair rail knocked the wind out of him. As he gasped for breath, Piers leaned in close. “And you are weak.”

  A tear ran down Quinn’s cheek. He was weak. He’d wasted his time on petty crimes. He wouldn’t make that mistake again. Piers hauled him up and led him down to his “workshop.”

  The artificials called it the horror factory.

  As soon as they crossed the threshold, Piers hit Quinn with a low-energy stunner blast, just enough to turn his limbs to jelly and make him more compliant about being strapped into the chair. It was like a dentist’s chair, except it had restraints at the chest, waist, and calves. Once you were strapped in, you weren’t going anywhere.

  Piers made sure the straps were extra tight. The bump on his nose, where Quinn had broken it in a bid for escape three months ago, had taught him “beanpole” was a lot stronger than he looked. Quinn counted that as one of his few victories in this place.

  Getting the cook fired was another.

  He was being reckless, though. Lexa was too important to him to screw up anymore. It wasn’t just the pain he knew was coming. It had nothing to do with any punishment they could devise.

  He knew, for sure, that he’d learned how to love. Maybe it was a programmed response based on a girl created for this sole purpose, but he felt it. Maybe he was only twelve and she was barely ten—but he loved her. He’d do anything to protect her. Sure, the thought of kissing her was a little gross, but that didn’t make his feelings any less intense.

  “What are you grinning about over there?” Piers said from his workbench.

  Quinn wanted to say, “Your ugly face,” but he was running a new program: being good for Lexa’s sake. “Just
glad we’re getting a new cook.”

  Piers surprised him by laughing. “You know, I hated that old cow. She always served undercooked or lukewarm stuff to the staff. Like she couldn’t be bothered to feed us if Ms. DeGaul wasn’t in residence.”

  Huh. “Does that mean you won’t punish me? I promise to be very convincing.”

  He turned around, a padded cudgel in hand. “What’s the fun in that?” He swung the cudgel and nodded. “Now, the boss said we had to do this so your marks are hidden. She was dead serious. Little Lexie is not to know that you took her punishment. Ms. DeGaul doesn’t want you to get ideas about being noble or heroic.”

  Quinn deflated a little. Fine. Lexa would never know he took her punishments. But that wouldn’t stop him.

  “Then let’s get this over with.”

  The first blow across the top of his legs came before the words died on his lips, and a yelp escaped. After the second blow slammed into his chest, he clamped his mouth shut and retreated into his mind. It was the only safe place he had.

  “Come on, Lexa, put your back into it,” Doc called.

  She grunted and tugged at Quinn’s arm. “He’s too heavy!”

  “It’s about leverage,” he told her. “Don’t pull. Use your hip to bump me forward. The momentum is all you need.”

  They’d been trying all morning to teach Lexa how to flip someone larger over her shoulder, but she couldn’t seem to get it.

  “Hellcat, this is basic close-quarters combat. You don’t figure this out, we might as well teach you to sew.”

  Lexa let out an impressive string of swear words, including something about Doc’s mother. Quinn threw back his head and laughed. She was so cute when she was indignant.

  “Mistake,” she growled, and with surprising speed, she rammed her shoulder into Quinn’s stomach and, as he bent over, dragged him over her back to drop him on the floor gasping like a fish.

  “Yes, just like that!” Doc said, laughing so hard, tears were in his eyes.

  That hurt Quinn’s pride, and he struggled to his knees. “Lucky shot.”

  Lexa propped her fists on her hips. “Was not. Want me to hit you again?”

  “Enough, enough,” Doc said. “You two have been sniping at each other all day. You need a break. Go play.”

  “Play what?” Lexa asked. “We can’t go outside anymore.”

  “And whose fault was that?”

  Quinn and Lexa pointed at each other.

  “Exactly,” Doc barked. “Reprogramming all the gardening equipment to mow the words ‘Maren’s Pizza Parlor’ in the grass was a bad idea.”

  “It was Quinn’s idea!”

  “Lexa crawled into the garden shed and disabled all the safeguards.”

  “You thought it up!” she said. “And now we’re being punished.”

  He glared at his shoes. She had no idea just how much punishment was to be had after a prank, and that was the point. Maren told him he had to keep her in hand, so every time they got in trouble, he took the blame. Being grounded to the house paled in comparison to the burn marks on his lower back. He felt like they’d never heal—and they might not, since Piers repeatedly burned the same spots to “keep the merchandise as damage free as we can.”

  Merchandise. Slave. Bolt.

  Names he’d been called that meant he was less than human. None of that was Lexa’s fault. He was just having an ugly day. Anger stirred in his chest, and he knew he was seconds away from blowing. He turned and stormed out of the room.

  Lexa called after him, but he used his long legs to his advantage and outdistanced her easily. He banged into the stairwell and took the stairs two at a time to end up on the ground level near the service entrance. Maren was getting a delivery of food from a gourmet shop in town. Guests again. Another night of pretending to be invisible so no one would know she’d succeeded in creating artificial children. He tried to tell her it didn’t matter—that he could pass for human easily—but she said his existence was top secret, and the incident with the Shaws only made the need for that more apparent.

  He stared out at the beautiful spring day. A soft breeze whistled into the delivery bay, bringing the scent of cut grass and the rose bushes near the gate. The human guards were busy chatting up the cute delivery girls, while the artificial guards inspected the cargo. It would be so easy to walk away. Turn invisible and leave this place behind. Trackers messed with internal electronics, so he didn’t have one—the last artificial that had one installed had gone homicidal. Instead, they used pain switches to ensure compliance… but Quinn didn’t have one of those, either. They were so confident in their ability to find a rogue artificial that they allowed him his free will. And they were so confident they’d cowed his free will that they didn’t worry about him roaming the house without supervision.

  Their arrogance made him seethe. If it weren’t for Lexa, he’d do it. He’d walk away.

  “Beanpole? What are you doing down here?” Piers whispered in his ear.

  Quinn jumped. He’d been so lost in thought that he’d failed to hear the man creep up on him. “I needed some air. This is the closest I can get.”

  “Now, that’s not true. Your bedroom window opens two inches. Why are you really here? Thinking of disappearing?” Piers grabbed him by the back of his T-shirt and yanked him into the hallway. “I’m watching you. Screw up and little Lexie might suffer your punishment for a change.”

  Quinn’s nostrils flared. “What do you want with me? Why are you always lurking like some kind of candy man waiting to take me to the black market?”

  “Candy man? Black market? Where did a Bolt like you learn about those things?” Piers’s smile was wolfish, turning his cold, pinched features into something primal. “But what I want is simple. I want you to understand that you can’t outsmart me. Petty tricks are one thing, but you ever try to escape, and I will hunt you down like the abomination you are.”

  “Don’t you call him that,” a shrill voice demanded.

  Quinn froze. “Lexa, it’s fine. Go back upstairs.”

  But Piers was already on the move. He lunged and grabbed her wrist. “Don’t you ever talk to me that way, rat.”

  “Don’t you talk to me that way, you piece of shast!”

  Quinn didn’t have time relish the shocked look on Piers’s face as he realized Lexa wasn’t scared of him before she twisted, threw him over her shoulder, and came up holding his stunner. She aimed it at Piers’s head. “Oops, safety’s off. Move and I’ll burn your brain out.”

  “Lex,” Quinn said, hands up. He moved slowly away from the wall. “Put the stunner down. This is trouble we don’t need.”

  “He called you an abomination. He called me rat. He hurts you—I don’t always forget, you know, no matter what kind of pills they give me. This has to stop.” She looked down the hall, to the delivery bay. “We could go. Quinn? We could go.”

  “You go, and I’ll have you down in seconds,” Piers growled, staring at the business end of his own stunner.

  Lexa tightened her finger on the trigger. “Nah, you’ll be too busy drooling and wetting your pants.”

  Quinn was about to suggest they all forget this happened when Piers lunged for the stunner. Lexa, fast as a young cheetah, dodged him, jumped, and shot him on the fly. He dropped, his limbs twitching.

  Lexa shoved the stunner into her belt. “Let’s go.”

  Quinn took a look at Piers’s limp form and smiled. Suddenly, he wasn’t afraid anymore. What was left to be afraid of, anyway? They were dead, either way, so why not taste freedom first. “Ladies first.”

  They crept into the delivery bay. The two artificials were reloading the crates after their search, and the human guards were still flirting with the girls.

  Lexa led Quinn along the wall, walking light on her toes. He tried to emulate her, but he was too big to stay hidden in the shadows, so he frog crawled instead. Maren’s fleet of hovers would hide them most of the way, but they would have a few moments in the open at the bay
doors.

  “Lex,” Quinn breathed. “Wait until the delivery hover starts up and slip out as they leave.”

  She gave him a thumbs up and crouched in the corner near the door. Quinn scooted in next to her, his heart hammering like crazy. They were doing it. They were really leaving.

  The delivery hover spooled up with a whine. Lexa caught his eye, jerked her head at the door, and crept forward. The door started to close, and they rolled out of its way into the edge of Maren’s garden by the gate. Being surrounded by thorn bushes wasn’t what Quinn imagined his first few moments of freedom would be like, but he’d take it. He breathed in the scent of roses. They smelled different out here.

  “Okay, where to?” Lexa asked.

  “To the lake. There’s lots of places to hide in the ruins, and if we need to, we can swim out so dogs won’t be able to track our scents.”

  She nodded, and they crawled down to the edge of the drive, watching for guard patrols on the roof.

  “We’re clear,” she said, darting out into the road.

  Quinn hurried to catch up, then took the lead as they sneaked through the alley and into the field of grass near the lake. Lakefront property—so many places to hide. He showed Lexa how to army-crawl through the field, staying low so the cameras or guards wouldn’t see them. Their progress was slow, though, and before they made it to the towers Doc had shown him all those months ago, the alarms went off at Maren’s house.

  “Go!” Quinn said, shoving Lexa toward the lake. “Into the water. Hurry!”

  Guards were pouring out of the house and into the field like ants after a discarded candy bar. Quinn shoved Lexa again.

  “Doc didn’t teach me to swim yet,” she whispered, eyes huge.

  “It’s simple. Hang on to me, and if we need to go under, hold your breath. We can hold our breath longer than regular humans. We’ll go under a minute at a time, okay?” He pulled her into the water and settled her on his back. “Just like a dolphin ride.”

  “What’s a dolphin?” she asked. Her teeth chattered audibly next to his ear as the cold water seeped over them.

  “I read about them once. They’re mammals, but live in the ocean.”