by Ramona Finn
I can’t make out what they’re saying, but Crow is rigid, unmoving. His jaw is clenched and he digs his fingers into his arms, creasing the skins of the dusty coat he wears. Red Kite steps closer and drops her hand from her knife to her side. She actually gives a small smile. It’s odd to see her being anything but aggressive. She keeps her voice low and gestures almost as if inviting Crow to come and sit with her and with the Fighter Clan.
I wonder if Crow still has family or friends with his old clan? If he does, he doesn’t seem interested in Red Kite’s invitation for he shakes his head and takes a deliberate step back. He says something that leaves Red Kite frowning. She turns away, but glances back at Crow over her shoulder. She gives a single, decisive nod and leaves Crow standing on his own.
Crow does not move, but watches Red Kite walk away.
Alis and Skye are now talking about trying another scavenge tomorrow, but I cannot stop watching Crow. What did Red Kite say to him? Is she trying to get him to rejoin the Fighter Clan? Crow shakes his head and turns away, but he doesn’t come back to the Tracker Clan. Instead, he heads to one of the many hallways in the Glass Hall and disappears into another room.
I wait to see if he will come back. He doesn’t. Part of me wants to seek him out and make sure he is not angry—he is my friend. But I keep thinking of his face as he walked out—how tight his expression was and how he looked as if he only wanted peace and solitude. I know what that wish is like, and I like Crow enough to give him the chance to find what he needs, too.
But curiosity keeps tugging at me.
Does Crow still have a connection to his old clan? Could that be useful to Wolf in convincing the Fighter Clan to help? I hate to have to think that way, but my plan means we need all the clans—especially the Fighter Clan. They must know how to battle drones. And they should welcome the kind of fight I’m thinking about.
At last, Wolf breaks away from the other clan leaders. Getting up, I head to his side. I need to hear what he has learned. Do the other clans really have weapons they’ve been keeping secret?
Wolf meets me in the middle of the Glass Hall and takes my hand. He glances around us, sees others watching and so he takes me with him, down yet another hallway, a different one from that chosen by Crow. However, I change the direction and tug him with me, pulling him with me to Dr. Sig’s lab.
Once we are inside the lab, Wolf turns to me. He keeps hold of my hand. His voice is heavy and weary when he says, “Two of the clans will help. But…” He runs a hand through his dark hair. His brows pull together in a frown.
I step up to him and put my hands on his chest. “We’re going to take this fight to the AI—to the Norm. You know that. We have to.”
“The clans fear the AI—the Norm. But they’re becoming even more frightened of the shaking. If you have a plan, they’ll listen.”
I let out a breath. “Wolf, what I’m thinking about…it could all go wrong. It could be an even faster end to everything than if the AI leaves.” He nods and lets go of my hand. But only to wrap his arms around my waist. His hands are warm. He pulls me closer, his hands strong and yet also gentle. “I know. We’re out of time. And that means there’s no better time.”
Leaning down, he puts his mouth on mine.
Chapter Fourteen
My head whirls as if I’m in a connect and spinning down new lines of a virtual world. Something in my heart eases. Wolf has done this before, but never have I felt him so hungry—as if he wants to devour me.
He walks me backward until my shoulders touch the glass. Smiling a little, I reach up and tangle my fingers in his hair. Sand drifts down. We seem to have sand everywhere these days. Wolf tugs at my shirt, lifting it so he can touch more of me. His skin seems hot against mine.
I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I’m enjoying the stroke of his fingers over my belly and sides. My heart speeds up and my skin warms. My breaths come quick and shallow. I lick at his lips, wanting to taste more of him, wanting to feel and not think for a change.
He breaks off and pulls back, but rests his forehead against mine. “Join with me. If things do go bad, I want memories of you. I want you. And not just because this might be our last chance, but because I’ve always wanted you. Even when it hasn’t been the smartest thing. You’re my match, Lib.”
Reaching up, I stroke his face. At times he seems so old—other times, like now, he seems younger than I am. Except I have no real idea how old I am. Maybe I am as old as Dr. Sig—or I am in a way. “Memories. You know, neither of us might survive attacking the Norm.”
He looks down at our entwined hands, studying them for a moment, and looks up again. “Some things last. I want to touch your soul, Lib.”
“I don’t know if I—”
He puts a finger over my lips. “You have one. I know. I wouldn’t want you like this if you didn’t. Join with me.”
He squeezes my hand, and I nod. I am not really certain what he’s talking about—this joining. It must be like a connect, and I want that with him. Things are bad, but right now in this moment, they aren’t so bad.
He pulls off my shirt with one easy move and does the same with his own. Then he pulls me to him so our skin is pressed together. I can feel his heart beating fast. My own echoes the pace. He strokes his hands down my back and I do the same to him, marveling at the hard muscles under my touch. This is what I want—I want him. I want a connect to him.
His fingers stray to my trousers, but I already want them gone. I pull away and drag off my boots and my trousers so I stand before Wolf in nothing but skin. He does the same. His body is harder than my own—muscled, his skin darker, rougher. He has more hair on his arms and legs—for I seem to have none. He puts a hand on the place where my neck joins my shoulder and then runs his hand down to the bumps on my chest. He has muscle there, but when he touches me, peaks rise up and my body stirs in ways it never has before.
“Wolf?” I don’t know what I mean with that question, but he puts his mouth on mine again and pulls me down to the floor with him. For a moment, we tangle legs and arms and the floor seems to warm under us and soften. Wolf pulls me up so I straddle his hips. He has more hardness in places where I seem to be nothing but soft wetness.
“Join with me,” he says again.
I nod in answer, but I still don’t know. A yearning rises in me and falls to low in my belly. An ache starts between my legs and when Wolf puts his hands to my chest and then slides his fingers to my waist, I just say one thing. “Yes.”
That seems to be the answer he wants.
His eyes darken. Holding my hips, he lifts me up, seems to guide me, and slips part of him into me. It’s like a connect—except there is no prick on my palm. There is only warmth and a little bit of pressure between my legs and then a short stab of pain.
I gasp and close my eyes—that’s what you do in a connect. You ride the pain and come out into the virtual world.
But Wolf tells me, “Open your eyes. I want you to see me. I want to see you.”
Obeying, I look down at him from where I straddle his hips, part of him pulsing inside me and pulling an answering pulse back. My skin warms and slicks with sweat. This is like when Wolf taught me to fight, but it is also nothing like that. Around me is not the cool blue of the AI’s world, or the black of the Glass Hall’s world. Instead, the room seems to warm for us, the walls becoming pale yellow like a sunrise. I touch Wolf’s face and he tells me, “Move your hips. Move the way you want. Find what you need.”
His words come out strained as if he is holding back. His skin heats and slicks and I lay down to press myself onto him. I wiggle as I do and the slight stab of pain changes into something else—a pressure that makes me want more of Wolf.
Putting my hands either side of his face, I smooth back the hair from his forehead. “Is this a joining? A connect?”
He smiles. “I don’t know what a connect’s like for you. But this has got to be better.”
I give a low hum. He is right—this
is better. I move again, wiggling, trying to get more of Wolf into me. I am joined with him—not just with my body, but with my heart and mind and maybe I do have a soul, for something inside me seems to open, seems to expand. For a moment, I close my eyes and see stars—and other things that now seem to have names. Galaxies. Nebula. The words pop into mind—words Dr. Sig knew. Words I know.
Wolf gives a grunt and his hips buck under me. Opening my eyes again, I stare down at him, caught by how beautiful he is. His dark eyes seem to pull me in. I touch his sharp cheekbones, his soft lips, and run my finger down to his chest. He gives another gasp, and says, “Lib, join with me now.”
“Aren’t we joined?” I ask. But then the heat rushes through me, up into me, spills in like a flow of heat from the sun. It leaves me gasping, breathless, yearning for more and then it is impossible to know what is Wolf’s body and what is mine. Grabbing my arms, he pulls me down to put my mouth on his. We are one—we join. His skin is mine, his heat warms my heart, his breath fills my lungs. A cry echoes—his or mine, does not matter. Mine is a cry of joy and of life. I shudder and gasp again, and then I am Lib once more and my body is cooling and wetness slicks my thighs. I shiver, so Wolf pulls me around to lie on my side but also on his body.
I leave my hand on his chest and ask, “This…joining. Do you join with others?”
Wolf smiles and shakes his head. “Some do. Most don’t. We might have made a baby just now.”
Sitting up, I stare down at him. “What? How?”
He shrugs. “It just happens sometimes after a joining. Your belly will swell and then a small one comes out. Croc knows more about it—and how to stop it.”
Frowning, I ask, “Stop it? Why would you stop it?”
Wolf pulls me down again so I am spread over his chest. “Not every clan can feed the mouths it has. And there can be problems—for the baby or the mother.”
“Mother,” I say, rolling the word around in my mouth. I still have the taste of Wolf on my tongue. “I’m not one now.”
“How do you know?” Wolf asks.
I shrug—I just know. My skin cools, but I like the touch of Wolf’s skin against mine. “We’re going to need all the clans.”
“Later,” he mutters.
Feeling suddenly weary, my body sore and yet feeling as if it is shimmering with light, I let my head fall onto Wolf’s broad shoulder. I close my eyes, although I have no intention of sleeping. I’d rather spend these moments with Wolf awake.
But Wolf shifts beneath me. I look up, frowning a little.
He reaches up and cups my cheek, his thumb brushes my skin. “Even the Tracker Clan is divided about what to do.”
I shrug. “The Tracker Clan follow you.” Even as I say this, I know the truth in the words. And I know I have found what I need.
I need Wolf safe. I need the Tracker Clan to go on. I want a baby with Wolf—I want to join with him again. But that is not a need—not the way that I know I must have him go on in this world. Which means I need to change my plans a little—like Dr. Sig, I must take more risks. I see no other choice.
Wolf closes his eyes and takes a breath, letting it out slowly. His eyes close—he falls asleep easily. But he keeps his arm around me as if even in his sleep he does not want to let go.
Chapter Fifteen
Beside me, Wolf sleeps. He keeps one arm around me. His breathing is deep and even, and he looks so much younger. His face no longer carries lines of worry and if he dreams, it must be of pleasant things for his mouth curves up slightly.
I envy his sleep, but mine wouldn’t be dreamless. And right now I do not want the AI touching my mind—I am still too full of Wolf and our joining.
I’m not really sure what to think of what just happened. My body aches a little, sore in a good way, and my mind is reeling with a thousand different thoughts that are so quick, I can barely understand them myself. Mostly, I feel overwhelmed. I have changed. The joining—Wolf and the joining—have changed me.
Idly, I draw small circles across Wolf’s skin, marking the scars he carries from scavenges gone wrong and hunts that were worse. Part of me wants to curl into his side and try for rest, but I slide out from beneath his arm, slow and careful. I want to cry at the loss of his warmth and touch, but I have things to do.
When I’m out from his shelter, I dress in my skin pants, shirt and boots. I have to turn back for one last look at Wolf—all muscle and sinew and bone and strength. He must go on—the Tracker Clan must continue. I must find another plan—or a better way to execute the attack on the Norm.
I head back to the smaller room just off Dr. Sig’s lab. I must find out more.
This time I know what I want. I pick out another screen—not the one I used before—and put my palm on it. The humming starts up again, though not as strong as before. It is a reminder that power still exists.
And I can tap into that.
Closing my eyes, I demand a connect. For a moment, nothing happens.
Diagnostic.
I give the command. The answer is slow to come, but starts up. The problem is clear at once—the shaking has damaged the glass, breaking connects that bring power. The Glass Hall really is alive—it is one giant system. I can see it now and I shift power, reroute it. The power does come from deep within the ground—much like the energy that once heated the pools of our old tunnels. I can sense the energy and sending it along new glass walls seems easy now.
With a deep breath and my palm tingling, I blink once.
Connection: Secure.
I open my eyes to find that same strange blackness and dazzling lights, but this time I know what I’m looking at. The information comes into my mind without my asking. Stars… nebulae…galaxies.
For a moment, I let the screen hum and show me sights no one has seen in perhaps hundreds of years. But this is nothing I need.
I think of the Norm…of the AI…I need to know how it was created if I am to stop it.
My thoughts seem to pull up new information for again, Dr. Sig’s face—with her not so blue eyes—appears.
“Day one-thousand-sixty-three of Normandy Project. I’m still having difficulties compensating for the power surges. Every time the program expands, it requires more energy and ultimately we can’t process response to the need fast enough.” She rubs at her eyes, which are rimmed in red as if she has not slept in far too long. “The self-repair is also not functioning to spec. We’ll have to rely on additional outside arms and legs, possibly drones to assist.”
The image goes blank, but unlike last time I am still in the darkness of the virtual world. I also have not really learned much, except that the AI and the Norm need the drones. And the AI needs a lot of power.
I need to know more, but I have no means to phrase my requests. Except I keep thinking is there a fundamental flaw within the AI or the Norm?
My questions pulls up another image of Dr. Sig. This time, however, she looks more than tired. Her eyes are shiny and her hair is not pulled back but seems to stick out in small wisps as if she has been puling at it. With a shaky hand, she wipes her nose and inhales deeply and then faces me or faces whatever is recording her message. “Day one-thousand-seventy-two. Dr. Regis had an accident—a malfunction with the main cooling unit. The computer room caught fire. The doors locked before he could get out. I can’t be sure, but I think it was deliberate. I think someone—something—didn’t want him to get out. However, I’m more worried about the impact of this. We’ve had budget cuts—and now Dr. N’gouse has put forward an idea that we should simply build one huge spaceship, as if that would be less expensive.” Wetness slips down her cheek, leaking from her eyes. She wipes at it and shakes her head. “I don’t know if I can do this without Dr. Regis…without Tom.”
The image blanks, but now I know something I did not know before—Dr. Sig had been joining with this Dr. Tom Regis. I know because of the look in Dr. Sig’s eyes at the end of the recording. I know because of my joining with Wolf—I would look as bad if anythin
g happened to Wolf.
But what did happen? Why was there an accident? Was that the AI that killed Dr. Regis? Or this new person—Dr. N’gouse? And his plan to make a spaceship, is that what influenced the AI to think it could turn the Norm into something that could leave this world?
I am about to think of another question that might get more information when a sharp jolt dances into my palm. It sends me staggering back, breaking the connect—this time I know something is trying to keep me from what I want to find here.
Gritting my teeth, I slap my hand down on the screen—but it remains blank. “I’ll find a new one,” I mutter. Turning, I search for another screen. I try two more before I get a connect.
Connection: Secure.
This time I go searching for whatever is triggering these interrupts. My suspicion is they are timed—too long a connect and something is set to disable the connect. It’s a good way to hide information. At least I think that’s the case. I have to hope this is something left behind—a safety measure. The AI would be sending in drones by now to stop this, if the AI new this information exists.
It takes longer to tear out what I hope are all the timer traps. I then try to go back and pick up the information from the recorded message left after the last one. Dr. Sig’s face comes back on the screen. She looks upset as well as sad, now. Her hair is even a bigger mess, as if she pays no attention to it.
“They won’t listen, but biointegration is the only way we’re going to solve the power supply issue.”
