Romy's Legacy: Book II of the 2250 Saga

by Nirina Stone

  “Okay Stealth,” I say, “let’s not attract any more unwanted attention with this blood, shall we? Who knows what else we’ll run into out here.” I chuckle, realizing that we’ll probably be okay, what with him in tow. I can think of few things more intimidating than a bear. But then he’s soft and kind of a sweetheart—now that I know he will listen to my instructions.

  “There you go,” I say, once the wounds are clean enough.

  I instruct him to take a nap. Then I snuggle up to his rough back, stealing some of his heat, like the last several nights. He doesn’t seem to mind.

  17

  The Beginning of the End

  The sound wakes me up first. Or lack of sound, I should say, as the normal chirps of birds and squirrels and insects in the trees come to a still.

  All I hear is wind rustling the leaves, followed by the unmistakable sound of something that’s not a natural part of the forest we’re in. I’m instantly on my feet and look around us, wondering what in tarnation.

  When a small group of animals breaks through the trees ahead and run past us, I turn and yell to the bear and I run too, knowing this is much like the night that I lost Blair and fell down the hole.

  When I look back and see the metal arms slice through the ground behind us, I tell myself it’s not too late. I tell myself to run faster, and to the side.

  But it is too late, and no matter how fast I run or how much further to the side, I realize that over two dozen arms are moving in every direction and they’re coming for me. They’re coming for us.

  When I finally fall, it’s not because I tripped on a branch like I hope, it’s because one of the metal arms caught me by the left leg, right below my knee. With no effort or pause, it’s sliced right through my leg and I’m left with but a stump. I think I scream, but can’t hear anything but my pulse hammering in my ears and the wails of other animals it’s ripped apart.

  I roll over in time before another arm slices my body in half and I fight a retch when I pull my leg away, only to see my left foot, still attached to the shin, ripped apart by the arm that would have turned me into ribbons.

  I’m losing lots of blood and my head is faint, but I keep rolling to the side, not knowing anymore from which direction my death will ultimately come. Then it hits me that this is what Rojhay meant—these are the earth’s monsters and demons coming to claim me.

  I look up through the branches above us, wanting it to be fast, so that I don’t have to witness any more of my body being quartered.

  That’s when I see it—a copta hovers right above the trees, and I know they’ve come for me. Ropes drop from its side, followed by Sorens—definitely Sorens from the looks of their outfits—sliding down until three of them land somewhere to my right. I guess the Harvester’s moved along, if they’re down here.

  I instinctively want to find Stealth and stand in front of him, meaning to stop them from shooting him, but I can’t move. And they don’t look like they’re carrying weapons.

  When one of them pulls off his mask, I realize it’s not a ‘he’ at all. In fact, it’s the general. It’s Mother.

  And, remembering our last chats, I suddenly realize I haven’t been saved after all.

  I turn to instruct Stealth to attack, but can’t see where he’s gone. I hope he managed to run to a safe place, away from the metal killers. It’s the last thought in my head as I fall unconscious from loss of blood.

  “I have a deal for you,” Mother says later, as I recover in the back of the copta. “If you accept it, all will be well.” I take in her words carefully, knowing that a deal with Mother is not in my best interest, but not knowing how else to handle this conversation with her. I decide I’ll humour her—at least she’s not having me executed. Yet.

  They’ve bandaged my leg and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear nothing happened to it at all. It seems normal, and I feel a throbbing in my foot though I’m more than aware it’s not here.

  They couldn’t save the rest of my leg or my foot, otherwise they would have re-attached it and my shin to my leg, and waited for the nanites to do their work. So I’m now a one-foot wonder. That’s going to be a doozy when I want to run again.

  Because I’m sure I will.

  Whatever drugs and booster they have in me has me think foggy thoughts, but I’m still certain I’ll want to run away when I can. I give myself permission to freak about the foot later on, after the shock subsides, after I’m away from Mother. I don’t want to react any which way in front of her.

  Mother sits with a blank look on her face and a small makeshift table made of hard plastic sits between us.

  Remembering our last chat, I shake my head at my stupidity for thinking that the general would ever believe I didn’t start those fires. Here I was, thinking of her as Mother, not as a Soren first.

  Why was I so blind?

  “I thought I was to be executed,” I finally say. I look around me. The copta’s empty but for her, the pilot, and the two other Sorens she had in tow.

  “You were,” she says. Her words are so matter-of-fact, so not motherly. I wonder what happened to us, to our relationship and I wonder if we’ve ever had one of those, really.

  “You are a proven traitor, Romy,” she says, “and proven traitors are executed. However—”

  She leans forward as if to tell me something secret, something of utmost importance.

  “However, given our blood, your pregnancy, our—legacy—and my position, there are certain concessions we can make.”

  And then it hits me.

  She’s involved with my pregnancy somehow. Her first reaction when I told her was to comfort me and contact Strohm. That should have tipped me off, but I mistook it for Mother’s concern for me. As it clicks, I look for the rage within me, but there isn’t any.

  “How did you do it?” I blurt out. “How did you—get me pregnant?”

  She leans back, her eyes unblinking. Something darkens her face and I expect her to deny it, or to lie. I don’t feel anger, but if she says “It’s intel,” I will scream, and I will hurt her. I swallow painfully, waiting for more lies.

  But for once she decides not to insult my intelligence. “I hired Doctor Andrew Johns,” she says. “On my instruction, he performed the procedure during one of your exams.”

  I swallow again, fighting the nausea in my throat. “And it’s Strohm’s,” I confirm, knowing that of course it is, just as she nods her head.

  “Does Strohm know?” I ask, thinking that he has to. He’s wanted to be by my side since he heard about the pregnancy. Never once did he react in any other manner.

  “He does,” she acknowledges. “But he also thinks you were on board. I told him you were in on it though you were reluctant.” It occurs to me that this is the first time in my life Mother hasn’t uttered a lie to me.

  None of this is news to me. Deep down, I knew all this. Deep down, I fought the knowledge and pushed it away from my mind, like I fought knowing who Mother has been all along. My enemy.

  Her arms are held tight beside her, as she sits waiting, watching for my reaction. I’m not in any position to win this, I think. The calm in my chest doesn’t surprise me in the least. It’s the first time I feel like I get her, what her motivation is, and it’s the first time I begin to understand how I need to act around her. So I say, “Where’s Stea—I mean where’s the bear?”

  She leans away from me again. “Still on the ground. Another team will come to collect it.”

  “And what will happen to him—to it?”

  “It will be repaired Romy,” she dismisses. “Are you sure this is what you want to talk about right now? That bear? And not your immediate future?”

  I’m more worried about one than the other of course, but as long as I’m in the dark about what her ‘deal’ is for a bit longer, I don’t have to make any decisions. For now. My missing foot continues to throb.

  “What is it, Mothe—General?” I ask. “What was in its brain?”

  She doesn’t s
o much as flinch at the way I changed how I address her.

  “You saw what it was,” she says. “It’s a botbear.”

  “But it’s not,” I reply. “It’s clearly mostly organic, with a bot attached to its brain.”

  “I suppose,” she says.

  “Well what possible reason would you need to do that for? What sort of weapon is it?”

  “It’s intel, Romy.”

  Of course it’s what I expected for her to say. She rarely gave me information before the fires. Now that I’m a proven “traitor”, good luck getting any intel on anything.

  “Then I’d like that as a part of my deal,” I say, “whatever that may be.”

  She gives me one of her most effective smirks. It gives her a girlish look and I nearly forget that this is the general, the woman that would have had me killed not too long ago, that would use me as a surrogate against my knowledge or will.

  “What makes you think you have any leverage here, Romy?”

  My hand hovers over my belly and I move it back down to the side before I touch the little pouch there. Still, her eyes don’t move from my face.

  “I don’t,” I say, “but I have a feeling you think I do.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then I choose to be executed,” I say.

  Her smile widens. “I don’t know who you get it from. Your Father or me. You’re smarter than most give you credit for.”

  Good, I think, as I stop myself from reacting to the backhanded compliment. I think she’s fully aware that I’m bluffing, that I have nothing to stand on, that I’ll keep talking to delay the inevitable.

  “Alright,” she finally says, “you will know everything about the—animalbots and our plans for them.”

  “Good,” I say. “So what’s the rest of your deal?”

  She doesn’t hesitate. “You marry Strohm. You stand by his side as a Leader in Apex for the rest of your lives, and you produce more babies with him.”

  It was always heading that way, wasn’t it? It’s what she’s wanted all along, and I’ve been her reliable little pawn throughout the whole thing.

  She couldn’t successfully have me deployed as a second-generation spy as was her initial mission. Father stopped her there. So she had him killed, then turned me into a different kind of weapon—one that will keep our family line intact, one that will continue to produce babies for our family line.

  Who knows what sort of plan she has for all the little weapons I’ll be producing for her? Who knows how long her so-called “mission” will last?

  The storm in my head threatens to explode with the epiphany, but I fight to stay calm in front of her. If there’s only one thing I’ve learnt around the general, it’s to portray a calm demeanour no matter the situation.

  “Is that all?” I ask. I’m pleasantly surprised with the flatness I’ve achieved with my voice. It’s as if we’re discussing a mere exchange of hostages. In a way, I guess we are.

  “For your life?” She asks. “And for the information about our bots. Yes, that’s all.”

  “And what makes you think I won’t start more fires?” I ask. It wasn’t like I planned to the last time, but who knows what influence these Metrills have on my brain.

  “You won’t,” she says. “We have our best Doctors in Apex. They’ll remove whatever it is the Northies had in you to control you like that. They’ve succeeded in fixing others in the same dilemma.”

  I have a feeling that also means I won’t be able to hear Father’s—the holo’s—voice again. But that’s hardly my biggest worry right now.

  Back to Apex again. Leading alongside Eric won’t be so bad, I think. After all, there is still some affection there, even if it’s minuscule—isn’t there? Even if it’s just some syndrome? At least I’ll be aware of what it is, this time.

  Besides, he’s there to try to fix whatever mess we made when we destroyed the Prospo. It will be right for me to try to help as well, no matter how small my actions, no matter how big the price I have to pay.

  “What about Blair?” I ask, suddenly remembering his panicked face, his hand reaching out to me as I fell back through the ground. “Where is he?”

  “We suspect he’s somewhere in Apex,” she says. “When we track him down, which we will, there’s really only one fate for him. Blair’s an EOTS now.”

  Right. An Enemy of the Sorens. Because he helped me escape, and he brought me to the Metrills. He’s partnered with the Metrills and against the Sorens. They’ll have him locked up in the Equator Prison when they catch him. Then they’ll get all the information they want out of him and he will be executed.

  As confused as I am about my feelings for Blair, about whatever his relationship is with Franklin, I know that is exactly the last thing I’d want. Besides, of all the people in my life, he’s the one who’s been the most forthcoming with me. He’s the one who hasn’t lied.

  “What if I say I want something else before I can accept your deal?” I say.

  She smiles at me again. “I know what else you’ll ask for, Romy,” she says. “You want us to leave Blair alone. That won’t happen.”

  “Okay, what if you left him alive though if you catch him? Can that happen?”

  “What makes you think I won’t have you executed and go for Blair anyway, Romy?”

  “Because,” I say, “I also have intel that you don’t have. About the Metrills.”

  Her eyes narrow at me. “What intel?”

  “Do we have a deal?” I ask. “Can you assure me that Blair will be kept alive? That he will not be hurt?”

  “I’m sure Blair has the same intel you claim to have,” she reasons. “We can get it out of him when we catch him.”

  “If,” I correct her. “You haven’t caught him yet and he’s quite good at staying free. So who knows how long that would take before you can gather the intel. Whereas I am willing to give it all up to you. For his life.”

  I know I’m playing with fire now. The general’s not one to be messed with.

  “How do I even know your intel is good?” she challenges.

  “Okay,” I say. “Here’s a small tidbit for you, in good faith. They have Father. Or rather, they have his brain downloaded into a machine that displays a holoimage of him. It knows every single one of his thoughts, memories, it thinks like him. It’s Father.”

  Her eyebrows rise as she watches me speak. I know it’s gold, and I know I have her now.

  “That’s impossible,” she says.

  “Except,” I reply, “he told me you’re behind the team that had him assassinated.” I try to keep the emotion out of my voice, knowing that I definitely have her now. “If it’s not really him, how would I know that information, General?” It’s my turn to narrow my eyes in her direction. I want to charge at her, to punch her in her pretty almond eyes, to hurt her. But I don’t budge.

  She doesn’t try to refute my claim, doesn’t try to deny any part of it. She doesn’t even blink.

  “Alright,” she finally says. “Blair will stay alive. I can’t guarantee that he won’t be hurt. He’ll fight when we find him, but we will keep him alive. We’ll make sure he’s not hurt any more than we have to.”

  Good enough for me.

  As we make our way to the heliplane that will have us flown the rest of the way to Apex, I tell her valuable tidbits I know about the Metrills. I keep some intel to myself for now—who knows what I’ll need to use as part of my negotiating power, later on?

  I try not to think about what my new life will entail. I try not to think too much about Blair—and Franklin—and Strohm—the baby.

  There will be time to deal with all that later.

  For now, I need to think of a way to reach Blair before they find him. I’ve got to warn him.

  I’ve got to help out in Liberty as much as I can as a face to be trusted, not to mention somehow thwart the Metrills and their plans.

  And I’ll have to find a way to kill the general.

  The End

&n
bsp; Author Note

  Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed Romy’s Legacy [Book II of the 2250 Saga]—and I hope you did—PLEASE leave a review on Amazon. Click here. There’s nothing more powerful than word of mouth. And please, tell your friends. Thank you.

  Romy’s Legacy is Book II of the 2250 Saga. The story began in Book I, available on a special 99c for a limited time! Click here to get your copy).

  Book III (the explosive Finale!) will be available towards end 2016. You can pre-order it now!

  About the Author

  Nirina is a reader, occasional country-hopper, and novelist. She inhales psychological suspense, mystery, horror, speculative fiction and the odd comedy.

  Her writing may or may not touch on all of the above.

  She is one of those rare Canadians who hates snow but loves a stormy summer rain. This has led her to live in Sydney Australia with her hubby, two awesome kids, and one crazy Tortie kitten.

  To receive news and special deals, sign up to Nirina’s newsletter here.

  For more information…

  @nirinastone

  nirinastone

  www.nirinastone.com

  Also by Nirina Stone

  Romy: Book I of the 2250 Saga

  Romy’s Legacy: Book II of the 2250 Saga

  Romy’s Last Stand: Book III of the 2250 Saga

  The Vorkian: A 2250 Saga Novella