Girl of Stone (The Expulsion Project Book 2)

by Norma Hinkens

  30

  Screams ring out from the terrified scientists and subjects as the military robots accompanying us crumple in a heap of smoking metal on the floor of the transport. The ruby lights in their orbital cavities flicker and die, their link to the neural network terminated. A sulfurous odor seeps through the vehicle. I stare at the discarded casings of what was once an invincible steel military, the significance of it hitting me like a dam unleashed. Ayma did it! She wormed her way to Preeminence’s core and caused its operating system to self-destruct.

  “It’s all right, everyone.” I jump to my feet and raise a hand to still their screams. “Stay calm, please! Preeminence has self-destructed. Mhakerta is free again!”

  The scientists blink in disbelief, exchanging dubious glances with one another and then at the immobile robots, all the while trying to pacify the flustered subjects who huddle together for comfort.

  “How did this happen?” a scientist with a thin white mustache asks.

  “Dr. Petrop built a configuration error into the neural network which we were able to exploit,” I say.

  The scientist sweeps a skeptical gaze over my auxiliary scrubs. “Who’s we?” he asks in a guarded tone.

  “I’ll explain everything once we reach the collective, but we need to make an immediate plan of action,” I say. “The main priority is to attend to the subjects we pulled from the tanks. What can we do for them?”

  “They’ll have to be given a prototypic drug to counteract the cranio-sedative,” the scientist replies. “We’ll need to begin the process as soon as we reach the collective.”

  I nod. “We can set up an emergency station in the infirmary. We’ll check everyone in there to make sure no one’s missing.”

  “Has anyone seen Dr. Petrop?” Velkan asks.

  The scientists look around at each other, shaking their heads.

  “She wasn’t in the processing plant today,” the scientist with the mustache says. “She must be on one of the transports that evacuated NeuroOne.”

  I sink back against my seat and exhale a thready breath. I want to believe our parents are safe. All this will mean so much less if they didn’t make it out. It was for their sakes that we came back after all, but I have no way of knowing where the robot military took them or what happened to them after they were arrested. “Do you think our parents are all right?” I ask, turning to Velkan.

  The knob in his throat moves up and down as he struggles to form the words. “I don’t know, Trattora. There’s a chance they didn’t make it out. We need to prepare ourselves for the worst.”

  I give a vague nod, not wanting to acknowledge the truth of his words that weigh on me like an anchor. I can’t bear the thought of losing the father I only just found. “Ayma’s mother is here somewhere.” I gesture to the subjects. “At least we were able to save her.”

  “But without our parents, we have no way to identify her,” Velkan says.

  “We can take blood samples and test them once we get to the collective,” I say quietly so they don’t overhear me.

  Velkan reaches across and squeezes my hand. I can’t meet his eyes. I’m too overcome with emotion, not yet fully able to believe that we’ve taken down Preeminence, not yet willing to think that our parents may have died in the process. I glance hesitantly down at my CipherSync. The screen is blank. Everything erased from the history Preeminence wrote for itself. I press my lips together and look around at the occupants of the transport. But not entirely. These people are living testimony to what happened in the processing plant. What has been taken from them bears witness to the horrors they endured. It remains to be seen if they are capable of understanding the freedom they have regained.

  When our transport vehicle pulls into the collective, my heart lurches at the sight of the stealth fighter parked at the main gates. “Phin and Ayma are here.” I grip Velkan’s arm so hard he yelps. “The collective has been liberated.”

  The doors on the transport vehicle retract and I jump up to help unload the subjects who can walk. Once they are safely escorted inside the infirmary, I return to assist with the gurneys, all the while keeping an eye out for Ayma and Phin in the crowd pressing in to help us.

  Scientists direct us to wheel the critical cases to one side of the infirmary where they begin hooking up intravenous drips in the subjects to counteract the effect of the cranio-sedatives that lulled their brains into a vegetative state for protein extraction.

  When everyone has disembarked and all the gurneys have been wheeled inside the infirmary, I make my way back outside and begin pushing through the throng of people to the other transport vehicles that evacuated NeuroOne. I spot Phin standing a short distance from the infirmary, jaw askew as he stares at a broad-shouldered man walking toward him. I suck in a breath.

  Dr. Lodowskow.

  I discreetly turn away, not wanting to intrude on what should be a private moment when Phin gets to meet the only parent he will ever know. A tiny flame of hope sparks inside me. If Dr. Lodowskow made it out, there’s a chance my father and Dr. Petrop did too.

  I reach the transport vehicles just in time to see Dr. Petrop disembarking. My heart thuds to a stop for what feels like an eternity until a balding head bobs up behind her. I let out a shriek of joy and break into a run, apologizing profusely as I elbow people out of my way. My father looks up and smiles, the crinkles in his worn face lighting up with a glow that warms the depths of my aching heart. With a final burst of energy I cover the distance between us and fling myself into his arms.

  He buries his face in my neck and holds me until I stop shaking, stroking my hair gently all the while.

  “I wasn’t sure you’d make it,” I say.

  “We wouldn’t have if it hadn’t been for Lira,” my father replies, gesturing behind him to where she stands with Tova and several other auxiliaries. “She’s been keeping an eye on you and Velkan ever since you arrived. She thought you were working for Preeminence and trying to discredit Dr. Petrop. When we were arrested, she followed us to see where the military robots were taking us. And when the fire alarm went off, she got us out of the holding room they’d imprisoned us in.”

  I throw a glance at Lira who’s watching our exchange, an unreadable expression on her face.

  I break away from my father and walk back to her. “Thank you for everything you did. You took a huge risk rescuing our parents.”

  She gives a lopsided grin. “It was the least I could do after how I treated you.”

  “You were right to be mistrustful of me showing up all of a sudden in Dr. Petrop’s department,” I say. “You were only trying to protect her.”

  “She’s a genius. I’ve always admired her,” Lira replies. “I suspected she might be trying to undermine Preeminence, and I was afraid you’d been sent to spy on her.”

  “Don’t feel bad.” I give a sheepish grin. “I thought the same thing about you.”

  Lira grins as she walks off with Tova and the other auxiliaries to check in at the infirmary.

  I glance across the yard and glimpse Velkan and his mother locked in an embrace—the same passion that drove Dr. Petrop in her work now directed solely at her long lost son. It’s enough to push me over the edge. I press a hand to my mouth, but there’s no holding back the tears that flow fast and furiously—tears of relief that this nightmare is over, tears of joy that my father is alive, tears of regret for the years we lost, tears of frustration for the mother I will never know.

  My father walks over and puts an arm around me, drawing me gently to his side, until my sobs subside.

  “We have to find Ayma’s mother,” I say between gulps. I straighten up and dry my eyes on my sleeve. “Can you help me identify her?”

  He lays a heavy hand on my arm. “You do understand she won’t know who Ayma is.”

  I nod, not daring to speak in case the painful lump in my throat dissolves into another hot torrent of tears. Instead, I take him by the hand and lead him inside the infirmary and over to the subjects
seated opposite the critical cases. He quickly scans their faces. “She’s not here.” A note of alarm creeps into his voice. “Is this everyone?”

  “I think so. We brought them all in here as soon as we got here—right before you pulled up.”

  “Let’s check around outside in case she wandered off,” my father suggests.

  “Her name’s Dinah, right?” I ask.

  My father gives a sad nod of his head. “She won’t respond to it though.”

  We search for several minutes, my frustration and my father’s apprehension mounting all the while. Mhakertans from the collective mingle outside the infirmary, talking, laughing, relief brightening their haggard faces. They offer to help when they see us searching, but to no avail. I come to an abrupt stop when I spot Ayma seated on a retaining wall behind the transport vehicles, holding an older woman’s hand. The woman rocks gently back and forth staring down at Ayma’s hand, intermittently kissing her fingertips.

  My father grips my shoulder. “That’s Dinah,” he says, hoarsely.

  “And Ayma,” I echo. Pain sears my chest at the pitiful sight. It doesn’t seem fair that this is how things turned out. Not after everything Ayma did to get us here and help liberate Mhakerta. But nothing that happened under Preeminence is fair, and the consequences of this tyrannical regime’s actions will haunt Mhakerta for generations to come. I tug my father’s sleeve gently. “I need to talk to her.”

  He nods. “I’ll head back to the infirmary and give them a hand with things.”

  “I’ll be there shortly,” I say.

  I tread softly over to Ayma and her mother. Dinah watches my shadow approach on the ground and then slowly raises glistening, dilated eyes toward me, struggling to focus on my face.

  “This is my friend, Trattora,” Ayma says, gently, as if she is explaining something to a small child.

  Dinah sways sideways, scrunching up her eyes as she examines me, then abruptly drops her head and begins rapidly tracing her finger on Ayma’s hand.

  “Does she know who you are?” I ask, swallowing hard as I meet Ayma’s eyes.

  “She found me,” Ayma replies, her voice breaking. “I don’t think it was coincidence.”

  I bite my lip, searching for words, but there are none that are adequate, and too many that fall short.

  “It’s okay, Trattora,” Ayma says, recognizing the distress in my eyes. “When we get to Aristozonex, she’ll have the best doctors money can buy. If anything can be done for her, I will leave no stone unturned.”

  “I know … I just wish it could have been different.”

  She hugs me awkwardly with one arm, her other still in her mother’s clutch, and gives a rueful grin. “I barely recognize you. What happened to your hair?”

  “I had to match the woman from the collective they switched me with.”

  “I bet your father was disappointed you don’t have your fiery tresses anymore.”

  I chuckle. “Speaking of my father, I’d better go find him in case he needs my help. I’ll catch you in a bit.”

  As I’m walking back up the steps to the infirmary, Phin comes striding up to me. He wraps me in a bear hug so tight I gasp for breath. “I knew you could do it,” he says.

  “It was a team effort,” I reply, quirking a grin at him.

  He gives a thoughtful nod. “Ayma was the brains behind it, but you and Velkan were the boots on the ground.”

  “And you were our general and strategist,” I reply. “Brains and brawn,” I add with a wink as I turn to go.

  “Trattora!” A nasally voice stops me in my tracks.

  31

  I spin around to see Jevyn standing in front of me, a cautious expression in her close-set eyes. She seems smaller than I remember, small-boned like a child. The bandage on the side of her head looms large by comparison.

  Despite how I feel about her, a pang of guilt hits at what I did to her. “I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “I had to make sure I got on the transport—”

  With a sharp shake of her head, she holds up a hand to silence me. “No. I’m the one who owes you an apology. I had no idea you were trying to help us.” She twists her thin lips in an expression of regret. “Good thing you knocked me out when you did so I didn’t blow the cover on the entire operation.”

  I frown, my mind churning over her words. “You didn’t turn Solina in?”

  Jevyn’s brows come together in a deep “V.” “I was out cold until shortly after your friends arrived in the fighter. Didn’t Solina escape?”

  The air vacates my lungs. If Solina wasn’t intercepted before she left the collective, then where is she? “She never showed up at the rendezvouz point,” I say. “And the male guard accompanied the truck back to the collective alone.”

  “She’s not here.” Jevyn steals a concerned look around at the sea of people. “She was reported missing. The foraging party said she was on the truck when it left.”

  A cold tremor slides across my shoulders. I pass a hand over my brow, struggling to piece together what could have happened. If she went out on the forager transport, then something must have transpired in the woods. My mind flits back to my last conversation with Solina. When I told her to give my regards to Rennan, her reply struck me as odd.

  You can tell him yourself when you get back.

  At the time, I thought she was just trying to reassure me I would make it back, but what if it was something else entirely? What if she was trying to tell me she wasn’t going to meet up with the resistance? And if that’s the case, where did she go?

  I leave Jevyn standing on the steps and weave my way back through the swarm of people to Ayma. “I just got confirmation my friend was on the forager transport. What exactly did Rennan tell you?”

  Ayma’s brow clears. “I forgot to update you. Caldan stumbled across a woman the following day who claimed she had escaped from the collective. He didn’t believe her at first—dressed like a guard—so he tried to put her in the pit, but apparently she knocked him in instead.” Ayma laughs. “Once she mentioned your name, Caldan realized she was telling the truth and they came to an understanding. But she only let him out after he agreed to fill the pit in.”

  My lips tug upward into a smile. “That would be Solina.”

  I should have remembered what she told me.

  There are rumors some made it to the mountains. That’s where I’m going if I ever get the chance.

  She wasn’t about to hide out in a cave with the resistance, following orders from a wannabe cowboy like Rennan. I let out a relieved chuckle. “I think Caldan has finally met his match.”

  That afternoon, Dr. Petrop ascends a makeshift wooden dais where my father and Dr. Lodowskow are already seated, and addresses the collective and the people of Mhakerta in the CentroZone via VidFeeds with the stunning news of the implosion of Preeminence. “Rest assured, this diabolical application is incapable of regenerating itself. I urge you to rise up and take possession of the freedom that has been restored to you, treasuring it as a precious jewel never to be traded for anything. Forge a new way forward that precludes the possibility of any autonomous cognitive machine ever usurping the citizens of Mhakerta again. We must take responsibility for our creations and continue to think and make moral judgements without relying on artificial intelligence to perform these higher functions for us.”

  The roars of the people are deafening, drowning out Dr. Petrop’s clear, strong voice. When they finally settle down, she continues. “We must become the leadership we desire. We must remain active participants in the future we inhabit. Never again will we build a machine that can rob of us our intellect to fuel its own self-actualization.”

  The people cheer, shout and holler, stamping their feet all the while, and this time they don’t stop.

  “Your mother is a remarkable woman,” I say to Velkan from our spot in the crowd, pressed up against the dais.

  “Yes, she is.” Velkan’s face glistens with pride, and so much more. Love for the mother he has only just
been reunited with and gratitude for the sacrifices she made to give him a future and a hope.

  “They will elect her as their new Premier. Are you going to stay here on Mhakerta with her?”

  Velkan looks at me, startled.

  I give a small shrug. “You have choices now. You are free.”

  His tender eyes melt into mine. “Until we are sure Cwelt is free, my place is with you. I made a promise to help you, and I won’t let you down.”

  I fix a smile across my face, but I can’t help feeling a twinge of disappointment. His place is with me until Cwelt is free, but then what? I dreamed of leading Cwelt in the chieftain’s place one day with Velkan at my side, but what if Velkan sees his place as here now? Unlike me, he has no home other than Mhakerta, and no family apart from his mother.

  As soon as her speech is over, Dr. Petrop puts the people to work to begin the process of demilitarizing the collective and disassembling the fences that separate it from the surrounding farmlands and woods.

  “What do you think of the idea of building a museum over the site of the old collective, memorializing this fateful time in Mhakerta’s history?” she asks, when Phin, Ayma, Velkan and I are gathered together with our parents later on that day. When she adds that it will be named The Dinah Institute for Liberty, Ayma squeezes her mother’s hand and smiles—a sad smile acknowledging what we all know deep down to be true: the best doctors on Aristozonex will never be able to restore what Preeminence has taken from Dinah.

  We briefly discuss our future plans, but only the immediate future—the need for our birth parents to apply their talents and resources to rebuild Mhakerta and make it a strong and vibrant civilization again, and the need for us to return the stealth fighter to Aristozonex and make sure Buir and Ghil are okay, and that Cwelt is safe from the Maulers.