Machinehood

by S. B. Divya

  Afterward, they held each other for ten minutes in complete silence. With her ear to his chest, Welga could hear the crackling of fluid as Connor breathed.

  “Remember to take your antibiotics while I’m gone,” she said. “You won’t have your agent to help.”

  Connor’s chuckle turned into a cough. When it subsided, he said, “Worry less about me and more about yourself. We know what’s wrong with my body.” His arm tightened around her. “This feels like Marrakech all over again, going into a bad situation without reliable intel, only this time, you’ll be alone.”

  “But this time there’s no one to tell me what to do, or what not to.”

  “Welga—”

  “Don’t say it. You can think it all you want, but don’t say it out loud.”

  What if you die up there? Only an idiot wouldn’t acknowledge that truth, but she couldn’t allow them to speak it. Fear has to take a back seat to confidence. Captain Travis had taught her that. Doesn’t matter if the confidence is unfounded. Without it, you have no chance of making it real. Box up all that doubt and shove it into the furthest reaches of your mind.

  “I’m going to Eko-Yi. I’m going to find the Machinehood operatives there and make sure they never hurt anyone or anything again. And then I’m going to come home to you, to working stellas and swarms, and if space doesn’t suck, maybe we’ll go back up there, together. I don’t think Eko-Yi will want us, though.”

  Connor snorted. “Probably not.” He shook his head. “I can’t believe the entire station would support the Machinehood, not with everything Ao Tara teaches. I thought they wanted to start a new way of life up there. They hoped the world would follow their example. There has to be something better than what we have here. A system with reliable work. A sense of self-worth. A greater purpose.”

  “Reliable work and self-worth? That shit went the way of the dodo bird in our grandparents’ day or maybe earlier. It’s why we became shields, right? Steady pay. An actual employer. But why do you care? I thought you like doing gigs.”

  “Sure, they’re fun, especially compared to getting beaten up and shot at, but I think you were right. I’d start to hate it if that’s what I did all day, every day.”

  Welga patted his chest. Her hand twitched.

  Connor caught it in his. “Take care of yourself, please.”

  “I love you,” she said, making no promises. She couldn’t, not with the looming magnitude of what she wanted to accomplish.

  * * *

  Welga had never left for a mission without having her loved ones in her visual. During her ATAI service, she could see them anytime she wasn’t in the Marrakech blackout zone, could know that their lives went on without her. Not this time. Papa and Connor, the two people who mattered most in her life, would have to manage on their own. At one level, she knew they could handle themselves. At another, she wanted to make sure. She was used to checking in on everyone. Talking to them. Sharing in the little troubles and joys that made life worth living. Reminding them to take care of themselves.

  She left Connor in the artificial hands of Marcelo’s care-bot, her heart heavy with misgivings. How the hell had Luis managed without seeing Nithya or Carma for the past week? How could he not worry himself sick?

  They caught a ferry from the harbor in San Francisco to the much larger port of Oakland. Warm mist lay over the bay like an unwanted blanket. They navigated the massive, mazelike docks to find their cargo ship. Passage cost more than Welga had expected, and when they saw the crowd of other passengers, she understood why. They weren’t the only ones desperate to hitch a ride out of the country.

  As she climbed the long ramp to the deck, the people around her gasped. She followed their gazes upward. Gray streaks chased silent blazes of white light. Shit. The Machinehood had knocked out the emergency stellas. Her stomach twisted with helpless urgency. Twelve days to reach Hong Kong. Another three from there to Chennai. How much more damage would the world take in the meantime? What else would the Machinehood destroy with few witnesses and no recorded evidence? Cutting off communications was a damn effective way to terrorize.

  They shared a cabin with three others, all of them Chinese nationals who spoke no English. If the stellas worked, their agents would’ve translated for them. Instead, they settled for hand gestures and friendly smiles. A total of six fold-out bunks lined the two sides. The head was in the hallway and shared with everyone else in their section. A tiny shower had a ration roster taped on pulp paper. Each person could sign up for one shower every other day.

  Welga fell into the bottom bunk. She hadn’t taken a zip in over an hour, and if she was going to collapse, better to lie down first. She asked Ammanuel—Jady, if they were going to be this friendly—to scope out the lay of the ship. At the least, they needed to know where and when to get food. Welga also wanted to know where they could exercise.

  “Keep a lookout for a working pill dispenser,” she called as they were leaving.

  The chances of the ship having one were low, but it never hurt to check. The number of pills she’d taken from the asshole in Phoenix wouldn’t last her a week at the rate she needed them now. She’d have to space them further apart than comfortable. It would go easier if they didn’t have cabinmates, but somehow they’d have to communicate that her condition wasn’t contagious.

  Luis and Jady returned to report what Welga had suspected. No pill dispensers. No satcom tethers. This wasn’t a military ship or a passenger cruise. They’d been lucky to get berths at all. An open space on the upper deck could serve as an exercise area. The cafeteria was one deck above them, amidships.

  They had nothing much to pass the hours. Welga tried to read the massive document from Nithya and found the science too complex to understand. Josephine Lee’s resignation letter made more sense. The content and timing aligned with Lee’s journal. Welga would have to win her trust before convincing her to testify against Synaxel, especially now that she was Ao Tara, the leader of Eko-Yi. If the monk had anything to do with the Machinehood—if she’d knowingly harbored them—trust might be asking too much. Play the sympathy angle. Make Ao Tara feel guilty. It’ll be a breeze in this condition.

  When they had the room to themselves, she, Luis, and Jady would whisper their theories about what the hell might happen next. She doubted anyone was recording them, but she couldn’t secure the room, and whispering meant reducing the risk. The rest of the time, she played cards with Luis or watched something from Jady’s collection. Ammanuel had wisely downloaded some entertainment to their internal storage before leaving home. Her near-field comm was compatible with theirs, which meant they could share, but Jady’s taste ran to the latest WAIbrid music. It was going to be a damn long two weeks.

  * * *

  They had to change ships in Hong Kong. The city had launched a temporary local drone network, which gave Welga a chance to catch up with the latest from the news feeds. Machinehood operatives on the ground had sabotaged several major network hubs around the world in addition to taking down the stellas. Security had moved to protect infrastructure rather than funders, but they attacked the Machinehood as soon as they saw the operatives. The dakini would react with deadly force. Welga’s realization about nonviolence must not have reached a worldwide audience before the constellations fell. The American government wasn’t sharing that information, clearly, nor anything from their interrogations of the dakini. No wonder India and China don’t believe us about Eko-Yi. That was the worst part about being cut off from the agency—she no longer had access to expert intelligence. She had no way to find out what was happening with the team in the Maghreb.

  They arrived in Chennai on April 11, as the fisherfolk were heading out to sea. Welga stood on the main deck and leaned on the rail. Her muscles twitched and trembled, which they now did nonstop, but only a close observer would notice. The tiny wooden boats looked like toys from her viewpoint. Seagulls squawked and circled overhead. Warm, humid air blew across her skin and sent the loose strands of her
hair whipping around her face. When they stopped moving, it wouldn’t feel so pleasant.

  Luis approached and leaned on the rail next to her. He shaded his eyes with one hand and pointed to a distant smudge offshore. “That’s the launch platform.”

  “How long to get the rocket ready?”

  “A cargo launch is easy. We need to get the club together, find the fuel, pack the supplies, and shove you in the middle of it. Maybe two days? We also do a final check of the rocket, even though it’s fully tested after it lands.” He put a hand over hers. “You were right about Nithya.”

  “Oh?”

  “She is something special, and I made a commitment that I intend to honor. I believe that God loves her, too. Matthew 6:14 says that if we do not forgive others their sins, our Father will not forgive ours.” Luis sighed. “I will forgive my wife. I love her, and I don’t want to spend my life without her.”

  Welga hugged him with one arm. “Good. Too bad I don’t have a recording of this. I could replay you saying, ‘You were right,’ every time I got depressed about anything.”

  Luis laughed and hugged her back. His expression turned wistful. “It’s been hard not seeing or talking to Carma, too. I’m glad I came home.”

  Luis handled the transactions between the harbor and his apartment. He’d picked up enough Tamil along the way to function without agent translations. He almost leaped out of their car as they arrived. One of the people standing in front of the hive recognized him and greeted them with a warm smile. As soon as they were through the gate, Luis left her and Jady behind and dashed up the stairs. She opted for the elevator.

  Welga heard Nithya’s voice, followed by Carma’s squeal of delight. Her niece’s voice carried clearly. “Papa! You’re back! It’s so annoying, the stellas being down! Oh, we have visitors. Come and meet them. I’ll tell you who they are.”

  Welga rounded the corner. Nithya stood in their doorway, wearing a colorful knee-length tunic over leggings, her back to them. Her sister-in-law’s hair hung in a neat braid to her waist. Welga tiptoed forward and wrapped her in a warm hug.

  “Welga!”

  “Thank you for everything,” Welga murmured before pulling away. “Ammanuel, you need to leave your shoes here.” She indicated the pile outside the door and added her own.

  Carma’s jaw dropped as they entered. “Aunty Welga! I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I came with your papa. This is our friend, Jady Ammanuel.”

  A crowd of strangers sat around the main room and stared at them. Nithya made introductions, and Luis settled Welga on some old static cushions. Just in time, too, as the world went sparkly and then black.

  She opened her eyes to several concerned faces around her.

  “It’s fine,” Welga said hoarsely. She knew from experience not to turn her head or sit up too soon. She subvocalized, “Por Qué, how long until my next dose?”

  “You have one hour and twelve minutes remaining until your next zip dose.”

  Welga had set the automatic reminders so she didn’t run out of pills before their journey ended. Whether Nithya’s kitchen worked or not, she had enough for two more days. The sooner they could get her on that rocket, the better.

  * * *

  Luis’s rocket club friends lived all over the sprawling city of Chennai, but the autos weren’t running and manual vehicles were hard to come by, so he borrowed some bicycles from nearby friends. Ammanuel had never ridden one, but they were a quick study. Welga insisted they go with her brother. She didn’t need protection while at home with Nithya, and she didn’t trust people on the streets with the stellas still down.

  The club members’ reactions upon learning their purpose were mixed. Two of them refused to help. One, a pregnant woman, didn’t want any risk. The second, a father of three children, felt the same. A third member, an elderly physicist who’d lived through the pandemic years, supported their cause but couldn’t do much. Without pills to help her, the woman’s body didn’t have enough strength to move, much less help assemble a rocket.

  The remaining nine were enthused and promised to have the equipment ready on time. They had a cargo rocket from a launch that they’d scrubbed when the stellas first went down. Their second step, after securing fuel, was to let the station know about their intended launch. The temporary stellas run by the Indian government didn’t block communications to Eko-Yi.

  “We especially need fresh food, old electronics, and a trash removal,” station comm said. “What would you like us to send back?”

  The club member who operated the satellite radio looked over her shoulder at them.

  Luis shrugged. “We usually ask for microgravity biomaterial, but with all the kitchens and labs down, what’s the point?”

  “No charge,” the club member said into the radio. “We only want to help.”

  “We’re grateful. It’s getting hard now, three weeks into the embargo. We’ve had a little help from the other stations, but they can’t spare much.”

  Welga almost felt guilty at hearing that. No supply or passenger rockets had left for Eko-Yi since the US accused it of harboring Machinehood operatives, but neither had India or China promised that it would prevent a launch. The people from Luis’s club weren’t trained, battle-hardened Raiders, but this team was every inch as brave as her old squad. Welga hoped to hell that she didn’t bring the same fate upon them. If the US government got wind of this launch, they would try to stop it, and they might be willing to use deadly force. The club would find out soon whether the Indian government would defend them or not.

  NITHYA

  All right, it’s demo time! I’m about to try out a custom-designed buff-juver combo, tailored to my workout style, and you get to watch. Last week, my best bench press was eight hundred ten pounds. Let’s see what I can do today. Remember, I always lift alone. Is it risky? Hell yes! That’s why it’s fun, right? Before I start, I want to thank Case Simons, who funded the design, and thank all of you for watching and tipping. I’m here every week, pushing my limits so you don’t have to.

  —Manne of Steele, weight-lifting exfactor. Current tip jar ranking: 149/2,496,389

  Nithya stirred a pot of kootu as her sister-in-law worked on chopping the last of the okra. The vegetable vendor, now a human pushing a manual cart down the street, said that without trucking it was taking longer to get the produce from the farms to the cities. He kept records in a worn paper notebook, a show of trust that Nithya couldn’t fathom but deeply appreciated. She hadn’t dared go beyond the hive to explore the shops. From Welga and Luis’s descriptions, she had made the right choice.

  Her husband’s sudden appearance had stopped her heart for an instant. She didn’t know what to make of it, and they had no chance at a private conversation. He didn’t avoid eye contact, though, and he seemed, if not happy, then at least peaceable with her. What had changed his mind? Had he forgiven her? Or had the stress of the Machinehood and Welga’s plan to go to Eko-Yi overwhelmed all other considerations? He hadn’t told her yet whether he planned to stay after the launch. She wanted to ask but feared the answer.

  Nithya turned to her sister-in law. “So Josephine Lee is on Eko-Yi?”

  “That’s what her journal indicates. The whole family is on record as having migrated.”

  “She might not be able to help us much, in that case. From there, what can she do about Synaxel?”

  “She can testify. If she’s been helping the Machinehood, the US government will give her a damn good incentive to spill every bad thing she knows about funders or the caliph or anyone else.” The knife clattered against the counter. “Shit.”

  “Here, you can stir this. I’ll cut.”

  Welga gave Nithya’s shoulder a grateful squeeze as they changed positions. Her sister-in-law’s symptoms had considerably worsened since the last time Nithya had seen her. Not so surprising when she learned how constantly Welga had used zips in the interval.

  “You have no idea who sent you that document?” Welga
asked.

  Nithya shook her head. “If I could access my logs, maybe Zeli could find something, but I suspect that man took extra precautions before calling me.”

  Welga swayed and caught the counter’s edge.

  “You can’t keep going like this,” Nithya chided. “Taking zips, juvers—any pills could make you worse. We can’t formulate anti-seizure drugs with supplies still short, and even if we could, I don’t know if they would help or hurt you more.”

  “A few more weeks, that’s all I need.”

  “Your condition has degraded so fast. A month back, you had only mild tremors. I’m not an expert, and I don’t have any medical knowledge. I can’t predict how long you can continue before your entire system fails. What if the microgravity makes it worse?”

  “Then I’ll have to work faster once I’m up there. The station said they’re feeling the effects of the embargo. If people are hungry and resource strapped, my work will go that much easier. Desperation has a way of changing people’s priorities. You’re not talking me out of going.” Welga tilted her head back and poured some kootu into her mouth. “Needs a touch more chili pepper. And maybe salt.”

  “We don’t have many chilies left, so I’m using less than usual. And you should talk yourself out of your plan. Someone in good health can catch the Machinehood. It doesn’t have to be you. Think of Connor. Think of your father.”

  “I am,” Welga said grimly. “The Machinehood’s actions put their lives in danger, too. And yours, and everyone here. Connor can’t heal because of their destruction. Papa doesn’t have the drugs to control his heart condition. We have no daily pills to keep us healthy and safe. Someone has to get up to that station and find out what’s really happening and how to keep the Machinehood from sending more agents to Earth.”