by Caryn Lix
The bastards had chipped me again.
Someone had left a tablet and a tray on the desk. The tray held a bottle of water and a plate with a plain cheese sandwich and some vegetable sticks. I shoved both aside and went for the tablet.
The second I activated it, the door to the room slid open, admitting a slim, bespectacled man in a neat Omnistellar uniform and a woman I recognized. “Colonel Trace,” I said dully. She’d been in charge of my mom’s unit when we took over Sanctuary. That felt like a thousand years ago. “What an honor.”
“I wish I could say the same.” She stood at loose attention, her arms folded behind her back. “Ms. Cord. Do you realize how many corporate regulations you’ve violated?”
I sank into the desk chair and passed my hand over my face as if to physically rub away some of the exhaustion. “Enough to put me away for the rest of my life,” I said dully. I really didn’t care anymore. “Or kill me. Whichever.”
“Yes,” said Trace grimly. “Whichever. So don’t you wonder why you’re locked up here and not in a high-security facility?”
“I assume it has something to do with the aliens.” I glared at her. I was tired of Omnistellar, of their games. After everything we’d been through, Omnistellar just didn’t seem all that scary anymore. Or all that important.
Trace examined me. “Do we have to worry about them anymore?” she asked bluntly.
I raised an eyebrow. “What happened?”
“What makes you think—?”
“Oh, come on.” I snorted. “I’ve been through this before. Getting anyone corporate to listen to me has never come easily. If you’re asking if the aliens pose more danger and are not trying to mine them for their technology, it means your little plan backfired about as badly as I figured it would. So what happened?”
She gaped at me in disbelief, exchanging looks with the man behind her. “Kenzie, where is this hostility coming from? Omnistellar was your entire life. I remember you. Your promise, your potential. Where is the guard I sent to Sanctuary?”
“She died there,” I spit. I was seeking refuge in my anger, letting it swallow my grief in a welcome tide of rage. “My mother killed her. You can’t blame her, though. She was only following Omnistellar regulations. And then what was left of her died with my father after the alien he summoned—you summoned—tore him to shreds. So that answers your question. Now answer mine.”
I honestly didn’t expect a response, but to my surprise, I got one. After a long moment, Trace sighed and sat down on the bed. “We summoned the creatures,” she said succinctly. “Against my wishes and recommendations, by the way. But I was overruled, and the creatures were called to Obsidian. No one is entirely sure what happened next. Everyone who could tell us is dead—everyone on Obsidian, and both of the Omnistellar fleets we sent. All we know for sure is that a joint attack was launched on Earth and Mars. We didn’t even see them coming. They descended on major cities and cut a path of destruction. It was …” She shuddered, and the man stepped closer, laying a hand on her shoulder. She glanced at him and nodded. “A lot of people died,” she continued. “We tried to fight them, and we had some success holding them back, but they just kept coming. More and more of them. We took steps to evacuate major centers, and still we lost entire cities. London is gone, Kenzie. Simply vanished in a cloud of debris. Same with San Francisco, Toronto, Dubai. And then, right when we’d given ourselves up for lost and started considering how to evacuate as much of the planet as possible and destroy the rest ourselves, the aliens simply stopped.”
“Stopped?” I asked sharply.
“Died,” said the man. It was the first time he’d spoken, and he had a pleasant, calming voice, even though it was clear he understood the gravity of what he was saying. “They dropped dead where they stood. Seconds later, we received notification of intruders on base, and we found you and your friends in your old house. We assumed the two events must be connected.”
I shook my head. So we’d saved Earth, but too late. Not soon enough to prevent thousands of people from dying, to prevent whole cities from collapsing. “It started on Sanctuary,” I said dully, and I told them the entire story, from the moment the alarm pulled me away from my tablet to Rune’s frightened but determined face as she stood sentinel over those missiles. They listened without interrupting, rare for Omnistellar. Halfway through my speech I cracked open the water and ate the sandwich. Why not? It all tasted like dirt to me, even though it was probably the best food I’d had in months.
When I’d finished, Trace and the man frowned at each other. Trace nodded. “Kenzie,” she said, “I want you to know that I’m going to do whatever I can to help you. Omnistellar isn’t keen on the idea of releasing you—any of you. They want you back in prison. But I’m fully aware that you saved us, and I was never on board with the alien summoning in the first place. I’m on your side.”
“I bet,” I said dryly.
She hesitated. “Speaking of helping you … This is Dr. Marshall James. He’s a psychiatrist with a background in traumatic—”
“Get out,” I snarled.
“I’m only trying to—”
“Get out!” I shouted, leaping to my feet. And the colonel and the doctor stumbled over each other in their haste to comply.
* * *
The next few weeks passed in a blur. I ate. I drank. I watched vids on the tablet, drowning myself in a sea of misery, beginning with the initial news reports after the aliens arrived and following their trail of death and destruction through the world to the moment they all collapsed. And when that became too much, I reread Robo Mecha Dream Girl 5 from the beginning. I got through the entire series twice before I got bored and turned to another manga, but it couldn’t hold my attention. Not after what I’d been through. Not even RMDG5 had the same allure it once held. I’d clung to that image of Yumiko and her mechs for so many weeks when I was weak or on the verge of giving up. But now, with so much in my own past, it seemed to ring hollow. I didn’t identify with the struggle anymore. I only saw death and pain in the carefully drawn panels.
And in between, I told my story. I told it to Trace again, once alone, once with some Omnistellar bigwigs who would have terrified me out of my wits only a few months ago. I told it via vid call to an international security council based in Kiev. I told it to people I didn’t know and didn’t care about until I’d gone numb from the retellings and could discuss my friends and family dying in front of me as calmly as I discussed brushing my teeth.
They didn’t let me see any of the others, but they said they were all in the same facility, all isolated, all safe. “All chipped?” I asked, and they ignored me. They ignored anything I said that didn’t respond to their direct questions. After a while, I realized it was easier to keep my mouth shut.
Through it all I had no real hope I’d ever see daylight again. This was Omnistellar, after all, and I’d betrayed them, broken their precious regulations. It was too much to hope they’d learned from their mistakes, from the disastrous results of letting the aliens loose on Earth, and Trace didn’t have the authority to keep me out of prison.
And still I didn’t care. Because every time I tried to muster the energy to worry about anything, two faces swam in front of me: Alexei and Rune, their sacrifices so big and bold and so completely unsung by a corporation that didn’t consider them anything other than anomalies. Besides, if I got out of here, I’d have to face Cage. Cage, who knew I’d left his sister to die. I spent hours staring at a blank tablet and wondering if I could have done something to stop her. To convince her. To take her place. If there had been any way to change Rune’s path, to prevent her sacrifice. And every time, I came up blank. Only one thing became clear: Rune had known what she would have to do, known it long before we reached the facility. We should have known it too. Only direct contact kept the console powered. Only power exploded the missiles. If I’d realized sooner, maybe I could have thought of something.
But I hadn’t, and every day I tortured mysel
f with that thought.
Then one morning, Colonel Trace and two armed guards showed up and hustled me out of my familiar room, down a corridor, and into a public meeting area. Trace grabbed my arm as I was about to leave. “The chip won’t be removed,” she said sharply. “By you, or anyone. If you try to deactivate it, we’ll know. Do you understand?”
I blinked. “You’re releasing me?”
“You’ll be given citizenship with any corporation you want—except Omnistellar. That door has closed.”
I gaped at her in disbelief. This was all happening too fast. My brain, sluggish and unused for weeks, wasn’t catching on. “Why? How?”
She sighed. “If you must know, someone leaked the story of what you did to the press.” A slight smile played on her lips, smothered before it could grow, but enough to give me a hint about who that “someone” might be. “The people still hold some power here, Kenzie, and they weren’t willing to see the group of you executed or locked in prison after saving us all. Public opinion toward anomalies has softened.” Her face softened too. “My son was fighting the aliens when they disappeared. He probably would have died without you. I’ve done what I could. I got you your freedom. And I’ve made sure that Lin Hu will always be remembered as the girl who saved us.”
I clenched my jaw so tightly the pain echoed through my skull. “Her name,” I growled, “is Rune.”
“Either way, her sacrifice won’t be forgotten.” Trace examined me. “I don’t expect you to be grateful. I don’t expect you to appreciate how much effort this took. At least, not now. But one day, I hope you’ll understand that not everyone’s against you.” She smiled thinly. “I’ve even managed to obtain a small financial reward as an expression of the intercorporate community’s gratitude. Obey the laws, and it will be like all of this never happened.”
I laughed shortly. Like it never happened? There were some pretty gaping holes in that idea, too large to bother pointing out. “And my friends?”
“Same deal. For all of them, even Mia Browne, who actually bit the guard who came to release her this morning.”
I smiled. “Good for her.”
Trace shook her head in bewilderment. For a moment she looked like she wanted to say something—to express amazement at my transformation, maybe, or apologize, or maybe even to mention my parents. But she didn’t. She just turned and walked away.
Dr. Marshall James, who’d been lurking behind her, pressed a small silver disc into my hand. My heart sank. A new comm device. Something I’d never even considered living without, and now it felt strange and cold in my hands. “I took the liberty of programming my contact information,” he said. “If you need me, need anything …”
I snapped my fingers shut around it. “Thanks,” I said, but I wouldn’t be contacting him. Not because I wouldn’t need therapy. I would. We all would, to get past this. But wherever I found it, it sure as hell wouldn’t come from Omnistellar.
Squaring my shoulders, I went to face the much more difficult task of reuniting with my friends.
* * *
They were all gathered in a brightly lit, clean waiting room, waiting for me. I stood in the doorway awkwardly, gathering my nerves. I didn’t dare meet Cage’s eyes. All the bravado and nonchalance I’d built up dealing with Omnistellar faded as I stared them down. I wanted to apologize, wanted to explain, but what words would ever be enough? How could I tell them I’d let Rune sacrifice herself? How could I tell Cage? He would never speak to me again, and I didn’t blame him, couldn’t …
Suddenly, Cage lurched to his feet from the couch where he was sitting. He descended on me in five sweeping steps, and I actually retreated, but I wasn’t fast enough. He caught me in his arms and pulled me close, folding me against him, holding me so tightly I blamed his grip for the tears spilling from the corners of my eyes. “Cage,” I whispered, “Cage, I have to tell you …”
“No, you don’t. Omnistellar told us everything. We’ve all heard your story.”
I buried my face in his chest. “Do you hate me?”
A long silence, far too long. Then he pulled back and smiled down at me, still Cage with his flashing eyes, although there was a shadow there that hadn’t existed before. He stroked his hands over my face, drying my tears. “Rune made her choice,” he said. “You both tried to tell me I couldn’t keep her safe forever, that I had to let her make her own decisions. Well, she did.” He choked on the last word and raked his hand over his face, as if physically wiping away his grief.
“I could have stopped her,” I said, and this time I didn’t even resist the urge to cry.
Cage blinked hard but couldn’t stop his own tears in response. “No,” he said. He tried to say something else, but the words were lost. He pulled me close again, and we clutched each other in desperate, lonely belonging, maybe the only two people in the world who would ever miss Rune with this gaping, desperate awareness that part of us was gone forever.
No one said anything for a long time. At last my tears dried. I pulled away from Cage and wiped the sleeve of my shirt across my eyes. He was doing the same.
“She saved us all,” said Imani quietly from behind him.
I glanced at her and then at the rest of my friends, gathered together. Jasper’s face was grim, and Reed had his arms wrapped around himself and looked sad and lost, but he gave me a quick smile. Legion still lingered to one side, but somehow that no longer seemed to separate them. It was more just what they were accustomed to, drifting together, not pulling apart. Priya gave me a sympathetic nod, and Hallam forced a smile. Matt, his fists clenched at his sides, met my gaze with a despondency that matched my own. Only Mia held herself separate and didn’t look my way. She stared at her feet without moving. Would she ever be the same again without Alexei? Without Rune? Would any of us?
But they were still there. We’d lost so much. Lost so many. And yet here we were, safe and strong and together. That had to count for something.
Cage drew a deep, shuddering breath and set his jaw. Misery, grief, and agony slid over his face, settling there, then vanished beneath the mask he always wore. “I know, Imani,” he replied, and he sounded almost normal. “She did save us. And maybe someday, I’ll forgive her for it. In the meantime, I’m not going to waste time being angry at the people I have left.” He caught my chin in his hand and pulled me in for a fierce, possessive kiss, one that absolved me, leaving me with the lingering awareness of grief without blame.
Or at least, without his blame. I wasn’t sure I’d ever stop blaming myself.
* * *
A couple of hours later, Cage, Mia, Hallam, and I stood on a hillside outside the Omnistellar base, cries and laughter bubbling around us as everyone reunited below. Imani’s parents took one look at her and swept her into their arms, soothing her babbled explanations and tears as they led her away. Now they sat in a shaded corner, talking quietly. Reed was nearby with his moms, who kept touching his face as if they couldn’t quite believe it was him standing in front of them. Matt had his arms around what must be a younger sister and was talking to his parents. Our eyes met over his sister’s head, and he gave me a quick nod of acknowledgment—forgiveness, maybe, or, if not that yet, at least an awareness that our grief was shared.
Priya turned out to have a husband and a toddler, much to my amazement, and they, too, were nearby, talking and laughing with reckless abandon. That left only the four of us without anyone or anything to call our own, watching from the sidelines. Presumably my aunt, uncle, and cousins were still somewhere on Earth, but they either hadn’t been notified of my presence or hadn’t shown up. I wasn’t sure I blamed them. I had wondered if we might see Anya, who Trace assured me was alive, but she was nowhere in sight, presumably still on Mars, and still blissfully unaware of what had happened to Alexei. I supposed I would have to find her at some point to tell her the truth. She deserved that much.
“So,” I said to Cage, my fingers threaded through his, “what now?”
“I was offered
corporate citizenship,” he said, a mocking note in his voice.
Mia snorted. She was more or less herself again, although something deeper than grief lurked behind her gaze. “Me too.”
“I think we all got the same deal.” Hallam shrugged. “We aren’t taking it. Priya, Matt, and I are forming our own team. Not bound to any corporation this time. Totally freelance.” He hesitated. “I think I can speak for them when I say you’re welcome to join us.”
I glanced at Cage. A few months ago that would have sounded like a nightmare. Now … “Maybe,” I said softly. “We may need some time to think first.”
“What’d you have in mind?” Cage asked.
I smiled. “I’d kind of like to see Taipei.” I fingered the lump on my arm where the chip lurked. “Of course, I won’t be able to understand anyone. …”
“Well, we’ve dealt with that problem before.” Cage’s fingers drifted unbidden to his own arm. “Mia? What do you say? Want to take a holiday?”
She smiled faintly. “No. Thank you, but no.”
“Come with us?” Hallam suggested.
“No. Again. Thank you, but no.”
“Then what will you do?”
She shifted her weight, eyes darting back and forth as if already looking for an escape. “I don’t know yet. But I can’t be around anyone else. Not right now.”
Cage ran a hand through his hair. “Mia … I know what you’re going through. Rune …” His breath shuddered in his chest, as it always did when he mentioned her name. My own heart clenched, and I turned away, blinking rapidly at the sun to hide my tears. Behind me, Cage went on, his voice unsteady. “Sometimes I wonder how many of them died because of me. Choices I made. Plans I came up with. For what it’s worth, I won’t forgive myself in a hurry.”
