by M. R. Forbes
“Crosston’s a pretty large community. Well fortified. Well armed. I was planning to send the Trust’s team in first to soften them up.”
Tinker’s laughter echoed through the receiver. “Ha! Now that’s a fucking plan. Let the infidels do battle with one another, and leave the gates of prosperity for the truly righteous. Their time is limited, anyway.”
“My thoughts, exactly, sir.”
“I like that plan. I like it a lot. Centurions. I’ll be so glad to be done with those high and mighty fucks. The meek shall inherit the Earth.” He paused again. It was as if he was doing more than one thing at a time. James knew he probably was. “How did it feel to kill another Stacker?”
James felt his breath catch in his throat. He froze, his heart thumping. He had been hoping Tinker wouldn’t mention any of that.
“An inferior copy,” he said, trying not to sound as tense as he suddenly felt.
He couldn’t lie to his maker. He couldn’t tell him Nathan wasn;’t dead. Omitting wasn’t lying. Neither was evasion.
Not exactly.
“Inferior? I don’t know about that. I’m betting that one had all his parts in the right order.” He laughed at the derision. James clenched the side of the desk with his real hand, new fury making his head throb. “No matter. He’s dead and you aren’t, right James?”
He had to force himself to answer without hesitating. “Right, sir.”
“I’ve got a new design of your rifle I want you to try out. I’m going to send it back with the Pulse in the morning. I increased the burst rate and developed an explosive tipped round that I know will be a real blast.” He laughed as he said it. “Get it? Blast?”
It still amazed James how Tinker could go from having a Messiah complex and spouting about the cleansing and the others in one sentence, to being a pun-loving scientist the next.
“Sir, do we need upgraded weapons. The trial—”
“Is a trial,” Tinker said, cutting him off. “Until we have a one hundred percent kill rate, until we deliver globally, that’s all it is. I know the will of the others is driving our future, but just because they show you the path, it doesn’t mean they’re going to make it easy for you to walk it.”
“Yes, sir,” James replied. He knew better than to argue.
The other end of the phone fell silent, but James kept the receiver against his ear. He stayed that way for nearly a minute before Tinker spoke again.
“James, I just had an idea. A fucking brilliant idea.”
“Sir?”
“Is there a nest somewhere in the city, near Crosston?”
“There is, sir. An old fusion plant.”
“Is it a big one?”
“It’s a decent size, sir.”
“Perfect. This is all working out perfect. Don’t send word to those Trust fucks just yet, you hear me, soldier? Belay that order. I believe we can kill three trife with one bullet.”
“What are you thinking, sir?”
“Let the Trust’s goon squad wander around the city for the night. I’m going to prep the trial for delivery and send it back on the Pulse with your rifle in the morning. You wait until nightfall, and then you head out. Go to the nest and get the trife chasing you. Lead them back to Crosston. Make sure you make them nice and mad. At the same time, tell the Trust’s hit squad where to find the survivor. You following me on this, James?”
James was already nodding, a smile spreading across his face. “Yes, sir. I’m following you.”
“Good. Then I don’t need to spell the whole thing out for you. Call me once it’s over and let me know how it goes.”
“Of course, sir.”
“The cleansing is coming, James. The rebirth of the world. The will of the others can’t be denied.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Goodnight, James.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
The receiver clicked. James lowered it from his face, placing it gently back onto the base. His heart was pounding, his whole body tingling. He had been worried before Tinker’s call. Now he felt energized.
He might not believe in Tinker’s delusions about the others, but he did believe there was only one way to save the planet.
They had to burn it and start over.
Chapter 41
Hayden woke up in agony.
His right arm was burning. On fire. Pins and needles coursed along it, and when he tried to close his hand into a fist, he could tell nothing was happening.
He remembered then that his right hand was dead, the original, organic one lost. Not lost. Taken. Now the replacement was destroyed.
Then why did it hurt so much?
He opened his eyes. He glanced to his right. He saw a bright orange and blue light beside him, the sharp flame of a torch working too close to the control ring. The ring was connected to his nerves and flesh and bone.
He followed the torch to a hand, a metal hand, crude and raw, not sleek and smooth like the one the Centurion doctors had given him for saving their son’s life. It was an old thing, with lines of rust through the narrow digits, and grease stains lining the wires that controlled it.
He gritted his teeth, desperate to stay quiet despite a desire to cry out. It hurt so much. More than losing the hand the first time.
The torch went dark, replaced by a dim light in the corner of the room. Where was he? He tried to lift his head, but someone pressed back on his forehead to stop him.
“Don’t move,” a gruff voice said. “You want your hand back or what?”
Hayden’s eyes made it up to the face of the person with the torch. Only there was no face. Just a large metal mask with a small eye slit in the center. The metal hand grabbed it and lift it out of the way, revealing a woman too young for the old augmentation.
“Loki said it’s Sheriff, right?” she asked.
She was thin and small everywhere. A tiny nose, thin lips, narrow eyes. She had almond skin and dark hair tied back in a ponytail. A thick glove protected her other hand from the heat.
“Who are you?” Hayden said. His arm still hurt. Only there was no arm there to hurt, he realized. They had removed the replacement, leaving only the control ring.
“They call me Pyro,” she said. She lifted the torch. “Because I like playing with fire. The brute holding you down is Gus.”
“Gus?” Hayden said. “I have a dog named Gus.”
A deep laugh sounded behind him. “You named your dog after me? Sweet.”
Hayden smiled through the pain. “Where am I?”
“You don’t remember?” Pyro asked. “Crosston. Mother Isabelle carried you in over her shoulder.”
“Told us to fix you up,” Gus said. “For the Game.”
“The Game?”
He didn’t like the sound of that.
“It probably wasn’t a good idea to choke out Father Loki,” Pyro said. “He doesn’t take kindly to things like that.”
It was coming back to him now. The nomads. Lane. Rhonna. Damn it. He had lost Rhonna.
“Before you ask what I’m doing,” Pyro continued. “Your replacement was damaged from whatever trouble you’ve been in. I took it off so I could run some diagnostics on it, see if I could fix it.”
“You’re a botter?” Hayden said. “Aren’t you a little young?”
“I’m twenty-three,” Pyro said. “My dad was a botter. And a mongrel like us. His dad’s dad was a Marine.” She raised the metal hand and waved with it. “I inherited this from him when he died.”
“What happened to your real hand?”
“Had it removed for this one.”
“Why?”
“Come on, Hayden. You have two pretty bad-ass augmentations, and you’re asking me why?”
The mechanical limbs were stronger, more durable, and offered a lot of protection from the trife. But still, he hadn’t taken them on willingly. He would never have intentionally traded a healthy, functioning, organic hand for one.
“Wait a second,” Hayden said. “Why are you even
here? I thought the Liberators took all the women?”
“Most of the women,” she corrected. “I’m one of the few that are left. Lucky me, I’m sterile.”
“How do you know?”
She laughed. “There are two ways for a woman to know if she’s barren or not, Sheriff. One, have a lot of sex and don’t get preggers. Two, get caught alone with a trife and have it ignore you like you’ve got a disease.”
Hayden wasn’t going to ask her which of the two it was. “You didn’t finish telling me what you’re doing to my arm. All I know is it hurts like hell.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. So, I think I might be able to repair your augmentation. You’re welcome. But, it’s going to take a few days because the thing is way more complex than any of the others I’ve worked on. Your great grandpa must have gotten one of the last models off the line.”
“Something like that.”
“In the meantime, Father Loki says you’re going into a Game tomorrow, whether you have one arm or two.”
“We can’t let you go in with one arm in good conscience,” Gus said. “So I’m loaning you mine.”
“What?”
Gus moved up so Hayden could see him. He was a big man, muscled and strong, a bald head and square jaw. He turned to the side to show off the empty control ring. “It’s no biggie. If you die, I’ll get it back. If you live long enough for Pyro to fix yours, I’ll get it back. Win, win.”
He laughed.
“I had to make your ring a little bigger to support it. So I was cutting and spreading it. Which yeah, hurts like a mother fucker because your skin is fused to it, and it’s getting burned.” She put down the torch and picked up another tool, leaning toward the ring.
“Do you have anything to dull the pain?” Hayden asked.
“Father Loki said not to give you anything. He wants you to feel it.”
She pressed the tool beneath the ring and into his nerves. His pain tripled, Gus had to grab his head to keep him steady.
“Don’t move, Sheriff,” Pyro said. “If you want to get through this, stay still.”
Hayden let out a soft cry, his muscles tensing uncontrollably. He gripped the side of the table with his other hand. He could feel the metal bending beneath it.
“I need to insert a few extra connectors. It looks like your model had fewer than Gus’ by half. Newer tech, I guess.”
“What’s the Game?” Hayden asked.
“Father Loki’s way of keeping the community engaged and happy,” Gus said. “It’s a fight, really. A brawl with a twist.”
“What kind of twist?”
“Did you notice the hanging platforms when they brought you in?”
“Yeah.”
“There you go. Anywhere from four to twelve community members are placed on the platforms. Fall off or die and you lose. Be the last one on the platforms, you win.”
“That’s the twist?”
“Not exactly. Loki likes to be in control of the game. He’ll create obstacles to make it harder for the contestants he doesn’t like.”
“You mean, me?” Hayden asked.
“I told you it wasn’t a good idea to choke him out,” Pyro said. Hayden winced in pain as she dug into his arm again. “To be honest, you’ll be lucky if he doesn’t sick the whole group on you in the first thirty seconds. But he may want to see what you’re made of first. Truth is, I could probably fix your hand if I stayed up all night, but what’s the point if you’re going to die, anyway?”
“Thanks for your honesty.”
“You’re welcome.”
Hayden closed his eyes again, trying to get his mind off the burning fire. He thought of Natalia and Hallia, instead. He pictured them back in their apartment in the Tower of Sanisco. He imagined Natalia reading to their daughter from one of the old picture books someone had given them after they had driven out the trife. He could hear Hallia’s giggle in his head and see her toothless smile. He could smell Natalia’s hair, and taste the salt of her lips.
He had been through so much to keep his family together.
He loved them too much to let anyone take him away from them.
If Loki was going to make him play a game, then no matter what that asshole tried to do to him, he was going to win.
Chapter 42
Nathan lay on the hard floor of the garage, staring up at the cracked cement that composed the level above.
Doc had moved him here after she had used the portable to contact James. The general had ordered them to stay with the horse nomads.
An order he was struggling to follow.
He understood what James was thinking. He understood the reasoning. The logic. He couldn’t argue with any of that. But he hated being pushed to the sidelines. He hated being taken out of the fight. He and Doc had been tasked with finding Sheriff, and they had. He could accept letting the Trust’s black ops team go in first.
But he should at least be there, damn it.
Doc had negotiated with the nomads to allow them down here, to the fourth floor of the garage where the majority of the scavengers had set up camp. What he had seen on the first floor was only a small portion of the community; the soldiers charged with defending the place. He had requested to stay on the first floor with them, but James had deemed it too risky. If the Trust’s black ops team showed up here and he was spotted? It wouldn’t go well for anybody. Better to be buried deeper underground where he would have a chance to hide should the Trust get too close.
Jaycee was more than accommodating. He was desperate to get on James’ good side and put an end to the conflict between his people and the Liberators. The nomad’s leader had provided them with sleeping bags, food, and water. Nathan had tried to eat the trife meat a second time, and for the second time, it turned his stomach. He settled for the water, and then he settled into his place on the ground.
Hours had passed.
He didn’t sleep. He couldn’t stop thinking about the Trust, Sheriff, Niobe, the ring, Rhonna and the Crosstons. He couldn’t let go of his desire to do something more active than lying there. What if the Trust did get to Sheriff? What if they killed him? What if they searched him? They would take his ring. What were the odds he would get it back?
Not good. Not when they probably knew he had what they wanted. Not once they found it. If the Trust got to Sheriff before he did, they would make the data chip disappear. He would never learn what it contained.
He would never know why Niobe had to die.
He turned his head, looking over at Doc. She was in her sleeping bag less than a meter away. Her eyes were closed, her mouth hanging open. He could hear her breathing, deep and even. Asleep.
He glanced around the open space. There were a few lamps still lit, providing just enough light for moving without falling over something. All of the nomads he could see were asleep too.
He clenched his eyes closed. He should stay here. Wait for James’ orders. He should be a good soldier. He should go to sleep.
He opened his eyes again. He thought about the ring. The Trust. Niobe. Sheriff. He couldn’t let them take it. He couldn’t let them get it first.
He looked at Doc again. He couldn’t lie there all night, letting everything slip away. Niobe had died over the data chip. She had left it for him to find. What kind of husband would he be if he didn’t do everything he could to get it back? She wanted him to know the truth. It was her last wish.
That was more important than James’ orders.
That was more important than anything.
He sat up. He was on top of his sleeping bag, not in it. He got to his feet without issue, reaching over to pick up his rifle, tucked under the side of the bag. He looked down at Doc again. She was going to be pissed when she found him gone.
He moved slowly and carefully, around to her feet. He padded away, keeping his eyes on the other nomads on this level. There were no women, but there were a few children and some elderly men. They were all asleep or hidden in their tents out of sight.
/> He made it to the ramp leading up the underground levels to the main floor. He didn’t expect any trouble before then. The nomads would have set guards. They might try to stop him.
Then again, they might not.
The ramp twisted around a central column, making a spiral toward the top floor. Nathan was around the second loop when he heard footsteps behind him. He paused and turned, keeping his rifle at his side and pointed toward the ground.
Doc turned the corner. She had her sidearm out, already pointed at him.
“Colonel,” she said.
“I’m going,” Nathan replied.
“I can’t let you go. I have orders.”
“I outrank you.”
“Damn it, Nathan. Do you think that will fly with James? If you don’t follow his plan, he’ll kill you.”
“If the Trust’s goons get to Sheriff before I do, they’ll destroy the data chip before I can see what’s on it. I can’t let that happen. I’ll find Sheriff, I’ll get it back, and I’ll get out of the way.”
“You think it will be that easy? You heard what Jaycee said about the Crosstons.”
“What are you going to do? Shoot me? I have to go, Doc.”
She continued pointing the gun at him, but he could tell by her face her heart wasn’t in it. She lowered the weapon a moment later.
“James will kill me for letting you get out.”
“No, he won’t. Maybe he’s a little unstable, but he’s not that kind of person.”
She walked over to his side. “What were you going to do? Walk out and hope you made it to their community? It’s the middle of the night. The city’s probably crawling with trife.”
“What else can I do?”
She knew there wasn’t anything else to do.
“Fine, but I’m going to tell James you put me out cold.”
He smiled. “Okay.”
He turned back around and continued up the ramp. She stayed at his side. They reached the main floor. The fires had all been put out. The only light came from small LEDs scattered around the soldier’s sleeping areas and tents, making the floor of the garage look almost like the night sky.
