by Audrey Faye
“They can’t have gone far!” Piers yelled. He sounded murderous. “Find them or I’ll have you terminated.”
Shouts and the sounds of men running spurred Quinn forward. “We’re going under. One, two, three.” He kicked off from the bottom and dove into the murky shallows, using the slimy underwater grass to pull them along rather than kick his feet and give them away.
They surfaced a few moments later, and Quinn stayed low. The men were walking a grid through the field, while Piers and another guard took off in a security hover. He flew straight toward the lake.
He’d have heat-sensing equipment on board.
“Lexa, we’re going under again. Longer this time.”
“O-o-okay.”
He dove, using one hard kick to push them to the bottom. There, he slithered along like an eel among the water plants, hoping they were deep enough to hide their heat signature from Piers.
The water was dark and dirty, so he had to feel his way. That’s how he missed seeing the concrete piling. He rammed it with his shoulder and Lexa let go.
No! He looked up, and she was floating to the surface. He clawed his way upward only to find Piers’s hover right over them.
“Clever, but not clever enough, beanpole,” he shouted. “Now, swim back to shore, or I’m going to shoot you and pay the consequences with Ms. DeGaul later.”
Lexa bobbed next to him, fear in her eyes. “I can hold my breath longer. Promise.”
Quinn put an arm around her waist to keep her afloat. “It’s no good. We tried. It’s over.”
She slumped against him. “I won’t let you take the punishment.”
“You have to,” he said. “She’ll kill you, otherwise.”
As he started paddling toward shore, careful to keep their heads above water, Lexa said, “But I’m afraid that this time, she’ll want to kill you.”
Maren made them stand on a plastic sheet as soon as Piers dragged them, soaking wet, to her office. Her eyes flashed with more anger than Quinn ever remembered seeing. His confidence that he was too valuable to her to kill wavered.
“I should have you sold off for parts, Quinn,” she snapped, pacing the floor, her steps so heavy that her high heels made marks on the wooden floor. “But we’ve invested too much in you. You’re a fifty-million-credit project already.” She glared at Lexa. “This one, however, has only wasted half that much. And from what I understand, she subjected my chief of security to bodily harm.”
Lexa propped her hands on her hips, defiant even though her lips were blue with cold and water dripped steadily from her hair onto her back. “He hurt Quinn. I don’t let anybody hurt Quinn.” She took a step toward Maren, fierce and quivering. “Not even you.”
“That’s it,” Maren said. She stopped pacing and turned from fire to ice—a very bad sign. “Caldwell, we’re done. Are you going to do it or shall I have Piers?”
“I’d be happy to take care of it,” Piers said.
Fear and anger pulsed inside Quinn. “No! Take me. It’s my fault. It was all my idea.”
“Not this time,” Piers said. “And I have the stunner mark to prove it.” He smirked at Lexa. “It’d be my genuine pleasure to rid you of this problem, Ms. DeGaul.”
Lexa lifted her chin. “I’m going to kill you someday, Piers. And you’ll never see it coming.”
“Lex, stop!” Quinn gripped her upper arm and turned her to face him. “They’re going to term you if you don’t shut up!”
“We’re going to term her, either way.” Maren shook her head. “Kids. What were we thinking, Caldwell?”
“My dear, the project wasn’t a total failure.” Dr. Martine turned sad eyes on Lexa. “Give me the night to map her brain patterns. If I can isolate the problem that makes her so willful, we could have a new version that’s just as strong and fast, but without the disdain for authority.”
“Fine, but I want a blonde with blue eyes, this time,” Maren warned. “Understand me?”
Dr. Martine’s shoulders drooped. “Perfectly.”
Quinn didn’t understand—what did it matter that the next version had blonde hair, instead of Lexa’s rich brown? Was it to remind him of what he’d lost? To make this new girl as different from Lexa as possible as a warning? His eyes stung with tears. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
Piers yanked Lexa away. “I’ll take her to your lab and have her restrained.”
“Take care not to damage her,” Dr. Martine said firmly. “I need her intact for mapping.”
Piers dragged Lexa to the door. She kicked and screamed, and even bit his arm, but he didn’t turn her loose. They were really taking her away. They were taking her away forever.
Everything inside of Quinn exploded into a universe of pain and rage.
“No!” He launched himself at Piers, landing one good, solid punch to the older man’s chin. Piers’s head rocked back, but he didn’t let Lexa go.
“Oh, for stars’ sakes.” Maren pressed a button on the underside of her desk. Ten seconds later, the room was flooded with guards pointing stunners at Quinn’s head. “Put him in detention. Piers, once you’re done delivering Lexa, take this one to Dr. Drummond. I’ve had about enough of this free-will nonsense.”
Dr. Martine heaved a sigh. “At least let him retain decision and thought control. Like you said, we’ve spent an enormous fortune on him. We need him to be able to reason and think without fear. A switch will be enough.”
“Fine,” she spat. “Just get them both out of my office.”
“Let me say goodbye!” Quinn cried out. “Please. She’s my only friend.”
Maren rolled her eyes, but Dr. Martine held up a hand. “We raised his hopes, only to dash them in the end. This is partly our fault. Letting him say goodbye is only fair.”
There was a pause while they stared at one another. Finally, she nodded, looking really tired. “Okay. And Quinn, for what it’s worth, I am sorry we had to put you through this. She was flawed, and we should’ve terminated her before you got too attached.”
The guards pushed Quinn into the hall, and Lexa rushed to wrap her thin arms around his middle. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“You have nothing to apologize for,” he whispered. “It’s my fault.”
“No, it’s not.” She looked up at him, her gaze intense. “Remember—never forget—whose fault it really is. Promise?” Lexa stood on tiptoe to whisper into his ear, “Make them bleed, Quinn. Make them pay for everything they’ve done.”
He felt his world crumble around him even as a grim purpose filled him. “I promise.”
“Enough.” Piers tore Lexa from his grip. “Three, Nine, take the boy to detention.”
Two low-functioning artificials grabbed his arms in matching vice grips. As they were dragged in opposite directions, Lexa screamed, “I’m your best friend! Always!”
“Lexa!” His heart was going to rip itself apart. He’d never survive this pain. “Lexa!”
Piers yanked her around the corner, but Quinn could hear her screaming his name. Something inside him broke. Make them bleed, she’d said. Remember who’s at fault. Well, he knew damn well who that was.
With a roar of rage, he ripped one arm free and punched the artificial in the jaw so hard, something crunched beneath his fist. When that one went down, he yanked the other toward him, sprang off the floor, and kicked him in the chest. Bones cracked under the impact.
Quinn flew into Maren’s office before the security team could get their bearings, and he landed on top of her with his fingers around her throat. “Give her back! Give her back!”
“Quinn, stop!” Dr. Martine barked, trying to pry his hands away. “This isn’t helping. The decision is made.”
“Our lives are worthless,” Quinn said as Maren kicked beneath him. His rage turned to hopeless resignation. His life was over, but he’d take her with him. It was all he had left. “I won’t live like a slave anymore. You’ll have to kill me.”
“I’ve got this,” Doc said beh
ind him.
Quinn started to tell him to back off, but something heavy slammed into his skull, and blackness swallowed him whole, drowning him in the sound of Lexa’s screams.
“Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen,” a voice was saying far away. “Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen. Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen.”
“He’s coming back online,” Dr. Martine said.
“It doesn’t take long,” a man with a smooth, pleasant voice answered. “He needs to recognate, then we can test the switch and see if we need to adjust the output.”
“Thank you, Dr. Drummond. I’ll stay with him if you want to grab a coffee.”
“I’ll take you up on that. I’ll be back in ten. He should be fully aware by then.”
The door opened, and a cool whisper of air slid over Quinn’s skin. It closed with a quiet snap, and he woke up a bit more. He was… What was this? Where had they taken him? Restraints held his back flat against a table, but he was facing the floor. They’d removed his shirt, but not his pants or shoes. He stirred and discovered his arms were asleep and that the back of his neck, right above where it met his spine, hurt like he’d been cut open.
He tried to tell Dr. Martine he was awake, but all that came out was, “Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen.”
Dr. Martine knelt at the head of the bed, so that he was underneath Quinn. “You can’t answer me yet, but I know you can hear me and understand.” He spoke barely above a murmur. “I’m so sorry. I wish I’d been able to save her, but things are dangerous for all of us right now. Attacking Maren was a stupid move, even if I do understand the motivation.
“From here on out, I need you to be a model citizen. That’s going to go against everything you want, and I know I’m asking you to do something incredibly difficult. But Quinn, you can hide behind a dozen different masks, act a thousand characters. Do this for me. Don’t be too contrite to raise suspicions, but do, over time, prove yourself more docile and compliant.”
“Six, two, four-seven, nine, thirteen!” The words weren’t what he wanted, but the tone came across.
“I know,” Dr. Martine said. “But please, don’t give up. I couldn’t save her.” His voice broke. “I won’t lose you, too. You’re our one hope now.”
“Six, two…what…hope?” he forced out between clenched teeth.
Dr. Martine’s eyes bored into his. “The Quad ordered you for reasons we don’t yet know, but suspect. And there are some of us who think that absolute power isn’t right. Whatever you think of me, or Doc, or even Maren, understand there is worse out there. Piers is only a faded example of the evil lurking in the wings. You cannot fall into their hands before you’ve been prepared. Before we know you’re ready to keep from being used to ruin the lives of a lot of good people.”
“Like…you?”
“No.” Dr. Martine stared at the floor. “Not like me. Better people. Now, when Dr. Drummond comes back, your new pain switch will be tested, and it’ll be excruciating. Don’t fight. Bide your time. I won’t be able to speak freely with you again after this. I have to distance myself, but know I’m watching—and hoping.”
The doorknob creaked as it turned, and Dr. Martine rose. “Remember what I said.”
Quinn didn’t even have time to digest everything before Drummond asked, “Is he coherent?”
“Yes,” Dr. Martine said. “Aren’t you, Quinn?”
Anger swirled thick in his gut, but he managed, “Yes, sir.”
“Very good!” Drummond sounded way too chipper for a man about to inflict pain on a bound subject, and Quinn curled his fists at his sides.
“We’ll start with a low-level ‘reminder’ test. This will be for defiance and failure to follow commands.”
A blink later, a glaring headache throbbed in Quinn’s forehead, and he gasped.
“Good, good!” Drummond leaned down to look at him. “Yes, that worked well. I can see it by the way you’re squinting. All right, next level is for rule breaking.”
The glaring headache turned into a searing pain, and Quinn vomited lake water and the remnants of his lunch all over the floor.
“Ah, yes. That’s partly why you’re still upside down. No aspirating on my watch.” The smile in Drummond’s voice, like he was enjoying Quinn’s discomfort and humiliation, was almost too much to take. “Last level. This is for attacking your handlers. Lay hands on Ms. DeGaul again, and you’ll wish you were dead.”
“I already do,” Quinn whispered.
“Oh, not like this.” Drummond’s tone turned silky and dangerous. “Not nearly like this.”
A bolt of agony flashed through Quinn’s entire body, locking his jaw so he couldn’t even scream to release his pain. He went rigid, and his eyesight flickered in and out. The last thing he said before passing out was, “Kill me. Please.”
He woke up in his room. It was dark outside his tiny window, and his stomach cramped with hunger. When he sat up, though, the floor tilted, and the idea of eating was forgotten in his hurry to lie back down.
For a while, he let grief overwhelm him. Lexa was dead. He’d never see her smile again. She’d never sneak into his bed in the middle of the night after a nightmare. No more sparring practice or stealing cookies or ganging up on Doc in the training room.
Gone. She was gone forever.
An inhuman cry wrenched itself free from his lungs. Gone. She was gone. Half of his heart had been torn out and no one cared. Not one frakking soul. How he hated this place and everyone in it. Dr. Martine said he was sorry, but what good did that do? Nothing.
His only choices were to end his life or run. So what if Dr. Martine said he needed to pretend, to be compliant for some greater purpose? He had no greater purpose without his best friend. Part of his soul was dead—and he believed he had a soul. Loving Lexa had taught him that. He wasn’t a thing to be owned. He was alive, and he loved. That made him more human than the people who kept him locked away. He’d be free, one way or another.
Quinn stood, then rested a hand on his desk. Once the wave of dizziness passed, he went to the door. It was locked. Of course it was. That left only one way out.
He looked around the room, then laughed darkly. There wasn’t a single cord, sharp object, or means of electrocution in his room. They’d even taken his sheets while he was with Dr. Drummond. Maybe they understood his thought processes better than he’d assumed. Didn’t matter—this would be over one way or another.
Someday, Piers and Maren would get lax. He could be patient—watch, wait, and gather enough currency to run. Someday, he’d have an opportunity to escape into the city. He didn’t give two shasts about Dr. Martine’s plans.
He’d run the second they became complacent.
That thought sustained him through a very long night. Finally, just after dawn, Doc came with some toast and weak tea. “You ready to behave?”
“Depends,” Quinn muttered.
“What if I told you something that might make it easier?” Doc said.
He reached for the toast, and his stomach let out a loud rumble. It didn’t know he was falling apart inside. “Depends.”
“Funny,” Doc said, although his tone was carefully neutral. “It seems there was a problem in the prep room where they were keeping Lexa for the brain mapping.”
Quinn’s heart let out a painful thump. “What?”
“Strangest thing…no one’s entirely sure how she did it. But…” A smile spread across Doc’s craggy face. “Lexa escaped. Piers is furious.” Now he laughed a little. “She avoided every security camera on the grounds. It’s like she disappeared.”
“She did?” He couldn’t believe it. No, wait, of course he could. “She’s alive?”
“I can’t say for sure, but security teams were dispatched a few hours ago, and there’s no sign of her.”
Doc left him with his breakfast. Where had Lexa gone? Would she come back? No, he didn’t want her to come back. It wasn’t safe here. He’d do what he planned—he’d wait and escape on his
own. And once he did, he’d find her. Together, they’d bring Precipice to its knees. They’d free their artificial brothers and sisters. And then? A cold, hard core of righteous anger filled him.
Then they’d take down the Quad.
Together.
Epilogue: Today
“Now, Quinn,” Maren drawls. “Dr. Martine tells me you didn’t enjoy the sorting activities.”
Deciding who to fire and who to keep at Precipice? No, that hadn’t been any fun. I swallow down my loathing, though, and say, “It just wasn’t much of a challenge, ma’am. The criteria and patterns were too easy to identify.”
“Hmm.” She gets up from her desk, already in her robe so she can retire for the evening. “I’m pleased to hear that, actually. I’ll come up with something more stimulating in a few days. In the meantime, you’re excused.”
I nod respectfully and let myself out of her office. I no longer fear walking these halls, not since Piers was promoted to Chief of Security at Precipice and moved out of the house. Most people ignore me now, and that’s how I like it. It’s been so lonely since Doc got fired, though. The K600s are kind, but it’s just not the same. My attempt at family was disastrous, too, fraught with mistakes and betrayals I will never repeat. As a result, I fear I’m destined to be alone the rest of my life.
Depressing, even for a fake human.
I wander upstairs, thinking I’ll go for a run on the treadmill before bed, but something is going on. Guards race down the hall—some artificial, some human. They tear through the second floor in a cacophony of boots and barked orders.
Port, the human security captain, sees me standing at the head of the staircase and shouts, “Quinn! Intruder! Check the bedrooms.”
I hold in a sigh and nod. Seven years of this crap, and they still see me as a utility player. Good enough, since I don’t want to draw attention to just how powerful I’m becoming. Maren’s idea of a “more stimulating” project won’t even come close to stressing my capabilities, although I’ll make her think it does.
Besides, I hardly care that someone is running amok in the house—asking me to help find the intruder is such a pointless exercise—but compliant is my middle name, so I trot to the first door. It’s locked. Then again, it’s always locked. My K600 friends speculate that it holds Maren’s sex toys. I find that funny, because she’s such a ball of frustration, I can’t see her being uninhibited about anything, least of all a secret sex chamber.
