“Nice shots, James,” she whispered.
Slipping into the cab, he shook his head. “I can’t believe I hit them. I’m not that good … ”
Noa blinked. “This is no time for self-doubt!” She almost told him to keep firing, but dark spheres falling from the sky made her breath catch. Each was about as wide as her arm was long, and they had flattened undersides with antigrav engines. Each had a seam around the center, like an equator. Cannons protruded from the equator, and Noa knew from experience they could fire in any direction. “Lizzar dung! Drones!”
James was up and out of the skylight before she could stop him. “Aim for the glass eyes!” She shouted. It wouldn’t destroy the drone, but it would slow it down. She cursed. The eyes were only two centis and at this distance and speed ...
James’s rifle cracked and a drone went spinning. He’d hit it … Noa’s jaw dropped.
His rifle cracked again and another drone slowed as it tried to reorient itself. The first drone was already back on their tail. James’s rifle cracked as the cruiser above dropped more drones. She heard bullets whizzing overhead, and a charge exploding to their left. Noa did another hard turn, dropped nearly to the ground, and they flew beneath a tree in the process of toppling—trapping two drones at the same time. The sunlight overhead disappeared. Noa didn’t have to look up … she knew the main cruiser was up there. James’s rifle cracked again and another drone spun out of their path only to reorient itself a moment later.
Noa took a deep breath. The jig was up. She thought of Kenji and of Ashley and the fact that she’d never be able to help them. They’d yank out her port … and James, what they would do to him … he had some crazy tech in him to be such an excellent shot.
Her jaw hardened. Filling her voice with every ounce of command she could muster, Noa shouted, “James, get down and close the hatch!”
James dropped into the vehicle and obeyed. “Safety harness,” Noa said. He clicked it on, and God bless him for not arguing. Ahead she saw a clearing in the trees.
“Noa, no!” James said, “We can’t fly over the Xinshii gorge—”
Noa swung the craft along the edge of the gorge—a drone swept by them over the brink. The bottom of the gorge was 1,200 meters plus. Over the engines of the cruiser and the carrier she could hear the furious wail of the drone’s antigrav and propeller as it tried, impossibly, to adjust to the sudden disappearance of the ground.
And then the wail disappeared. She peeked into her rear view and saw the sky where the drone had been was now empty.
She heard James exhale. “I thought you were going to fly over the—”
Gripping the steering bars harder, Noa chanted, “Hail Mary, full of grace,” not because she believed, but to give herself strength, to calm her heart that was beating so fast she felt her rib cage sting. Before she could lose her nerve, she swung the craft directly over the lip of the gorge, hit the brakes and cut the engine. For less than a heartbeat that seemed to last an eternity, they hovered without antigrav or engine.
And then they plunged.
James couldn’t breathe, the water at the bottom of the Xinshii gorge was coming toward them too fast. The gorge was nearly as deep as Earth’s Grand Canyon, and his neural interface began randomly calculating the strength and processing power needed for an antigrav engine to keep them aloft above the drop—more than the LX had, and Noa had cut the engines anyway.
Back pressed into the seat by the acceleration, James saw a light streak in the sky. A shooting star? An optical illusion? His malfunctioning brain and data port concocting a metaphor for his short life and flashing it through his visual cortex? He glanced down and all he saw was black water coming toward them faster and faster.
James had no words. But even if he had, they would have been cut off by Noa’s own utterance—a cry, a snarl, a scream of rage—it seemed to James to be all of those. Just before the craft hit the water, she pulled up on the rudder and engaged the antigrav engines, but it would never work—the engines would have to overcome the force of their fall and—
They hit the water with a resounding thwack before James could finish the thought. His vision splintered like shards of ice—another optical illusion? The last thing he would see before he died? The world went dark, and his head ricocheted against the seat. It took a moment to realize he was still alive, and that the impact had not been as much as he expected—the crack in his vision was an actual crack in the windshield, and water was oozing through the cracks in the skylight and the doors. Noa engaged the forward engine … he blinked … they were moving forward and up. A moment later they surged up out of the river, and instead of black he was surrounded by green … but not Luddeccean Green, the deeper green of the ivy that clung to the limestone walls of the gorge. The world that had been bright and sunny moments before was now bathed in shadow. James looked up, and saw the hulking shape of the hover-carrier just before Noa gunned the engine. An instant later, he was blinking in sunlight, and once again he thought he saw a shooting star.
“Damn it,” Noa hissed. “We’re carrying too much water.”
That was when James felt the water around his ankles.
“Open the skylight, James!” Noa shouted.
He did what he was told—possibly because he was in shock. Noa hit the forward thrusters, gave more power to the antigrav engine, and angled them for some rocks jutting out of some rapids ahead at steep angles.
“Be careful,” James said, “That will flip us—”
The craft hit the rocks, tipped over, and water poured out through the skylight.
“— over,” James said.
Noa spun the craft right side up and laughed. “Hold on, we’re doing it again!” she shouted, taking them over some more rocks even as the sweeper ship dropped charges behind them.
“Close the skylight!” Noa commanded, and he did. Another charge went off in their wake, but the canyon curved sharply and Noa took the hover along the curve. Above them, the sweeper ship did not readjust as quickly. As they twisted around another corner, James looked over his shoulder. The sweeper ship was farther away, contained by its own inertia, but soon—
“As it picks up speed, it will overtake us and drop more charges,” he said. He felt like his life had been very brief.
Leaning closer to the wheel, Noa said, “I know.” She slid the craft around another bend in the canyon at full speed far closer to the walls than he ever would have.
“Tell me when you lose visual sight of them,” Noa commanded.
James looked over his shoulder. “Now,” he said, his body hitting the side door as Noa slid around another bend—his data banks registered that they were headed northwest. Maybe they’d be able to reach the rebels before the craft overhead blew them to smithereens.
Noa snarled. James turned around just in time to see the ship barreling straight toward a canyon wall.
Water was sloshing over Noa’s feet. She heard the sound of drones and sweeper hovers fading into the distance. Northward, according to her locator app … she closed her eyes … and a little light flashed green in her mind. Smacking the steering wheel, she laughed in relief and amazement. James didn’t make a peep. Worried, she turned toward him. In the dim light, she couldn’t see more than his silhouette. He was sitting very still, and very upright. Trying to get a rise out of him, she said, “Sometimes I amaze even myself.” It was a reference to the ancient “move-ees” they’d watched the night before. If he was Fleet, she would have cracked a quip from Lightyears, but since he hadn’t watched it, he wouldn’t get the joke.
She got nothing from him, not even a, “That doesn’t sound too hard.” Which was, frankly, disappointing. Did she have to be the only one trying to laugh at barely-avoided death? She tried again. “I am the literal embodiment of ...” What was the character’s name? “Han Solo. James, I think you should be impressed.”
James’s voice was curt when he responded. “They will turn back soon, resume looking, and find us.”
&
nbsp; Noa flashed him a grin that she doubted he’d be able to see in the darkness. “Not too soon. They’ll figure we hadn’t disengaged the turbo dampener, and have made it to the mountains. Got a flashlight in here? I don’t have augmented eyeballs.”
“I … ” James said. “ ... do have augmented vision.”
He said it like it was a new discovery to him, and Noa wondered how badly he’d been hurt when he’d been shot down.
“I also have a flashlight,” James said, with more surety. “Just a moment.”
A few seconds later, he pressed the flashlight into her hand. Turning it on, Noa lifted the door on her side and shone the light in directions the headlamps of the craft couldn’t go. Behind them was a slim band of daylight, only a hand’s width high above dark river water. Fortunately, the opening of the cave was much larger—just mostly below the river’s surface.
“How did you know that the cave mouth would be large enough for the craft?” James asked.
“It was just a hunch,” said Noa.
“That’s not reassuring,” said James.
“We’re alive, aren’t we?” Noa said in what was supposed to be a calm rational voice, but came out angry and half-shouted.
James was quiet for a moment, but then he said, “Why haven’t they found us?” He sounded irritated rather than relieved.
“You’d rather they did?”
“Of course not,” he snapped. “But I want to understand.”
There was an edge of something frantic in his tone. She remembered his words last night, “I’m just trying to understand ...” He wanted the world to make sense. So much of it didn’t. Noa swung the light around to the front of the vehicle. They were parked in water, but up ahead was dryish rock. Suddenly feeling tired, she said, “Their sensors picked up the cave, but they’ve input the model of our vehicle into their computers. Our craft’s manufacturer’s description specifically says it is not meant to be an aquatic vehicle, and so this hiding place will be completely discounted.”
“How did you know this model was capable of submersion?” James asked.
Noa blinked and pointed the flashlight back at him. His sleeves were rolled up, and his tattoos were back. She wasn’t sure if it was a trick of the light, but they didn’t seem as dark this time. Remembering how he’d reacted to them before, she quickly brought her eyes back to his face. “When we hit the water last time, we survived.”
“You didn’t know we could survive the impact when you plunged us over a cliff?” James whispered, his eyes wide.
“Nope,” said Noa, testing the water with a finger. She stared at the uneven waves around the digit and realized she was shaking from head to toe to fingertip. The cave was tropically warm due to the depth of the canyon, but the water was snow melt from the mountains.
“You risked our lives—”
“I risked a quick death versus a long painful death,” Noa snapped, blowing her cool completely. She closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she opened them again. James’s expression was a blank mask.
“It was a Hail Mary move, James.” She swallowed. Hadn’t he heard her prayer? “I’ve seen what they’ve done to hyper-augments like you, and I know what they’d do to me.”
His face didn’t soften. Annoyed, Noa looked away. “I’d like to move us up to dry rock and let this boat drain while I disengage the turbo dampener,” she said, as much to herself as to him. Gently pulsing the accelerator, she moved the craft forward. Sliding it up onto dry rock and turning it off, Noa said, “It is really lucky that we found this hidey-hole, I thought we were going to be stuck underwater, gulping at the air pockets as the ship slowly sank.”
“Lovely imagery,” said James dryly.
Stepping out of the vehicle, Noa shone the flashlight he’d given her down a long dark tunnel. “Maybe we’ll discover a new species!” She tried to sound gleeful and carefree, to ease herself off of her adrenaline high, and to forget that she was still breathing too fast and trembling from it.
“What type of new species?” said James, sounding vaguely interested.
“A species like the one in the asteroid that tried to eat that spaceship in the move-ee last night,” Noa said.
“A creature of that size and mass would have been detected by now,” James said, climbing out of the craft.
Noa rolled her eyes in only semi-feigned exasperation. “I’m trying to lighten the mood here, James!”
James scowled at her. Noa’s eyes dropped to his bare arms. With each passing second, the tattoos seemed to be getting darker.
Shaking herself and leaning into the craft, she said, “Help me lift the seats up so I can access the turbo dampener ... do you have any tools?”
James didn’t say anything, but he helped lift the seat and retrieve a toolbox from the boot. Handing him the flashlight as he deposited the tools beside her, she said, “Go behind me and hold this over my shoulder.”
Rolling up her sleeves, Noa went about disengaging the dampening conduit. Since James wouldn’t talk to her, she did it for herself. “Look at me, repairing the reverse power coupling!”
“You are joking,” James said, now standing behind her.
Not the witty repertoire or joking camaraderie she would have gotten from her fellow veterans, but it was better than nothing. “Yep,” said Noa. “I am Han Solo.”
Silence.
“Work with me! I can’t be the only one trying to crack jokes and raise spirits as we head on a course toward certain death.”
“Why not raise our spirits by not sending us on a course to certain death?” James said, his voice testy.
She turned around. His face was unreadable. She felt her skin heat. “Too late for that. No matter where we go.”
James was quiet. Noa put her hand over her mouth. The comment had been half barb and half justification for her risky actions, but she suddenly realized the truth of it. “They sent a hover-carrier after us.” A ship that could carry auxiliary vehicles and hundreds of personnel. She wasn’t finished with the turbo booster, but stood up, turned away from James, and took a breath that physically hurt—maybe just from the enormity of that sinking in. If the Luddeccean Guard wanted James and Noa so badly, even the mountains wouldn’t keep them safe. They’d be too busy running to help stage resistance in any meaningful way. She closed her eyes, bowing her head. “There are thousands of people in the camps. How can we save them on the run?”
“Millions.”
Noa spun to him. “What?”
Standing still as a statue, James said, “I’d estimate there are millions in the camps.”
Noa gaped. “How do you estimate that?”
“When you were asleep, I watched the Briefing Room channel for a bit.”
Noa’s eyes narrowed at mention of the “news” station.
“There were some callers to the Briefing Room—”
“How did they call with the ethernet down?” Noa asked.
“Telephones.”
When Noa blinked at him, he said, “They are devices that use the landlines they were talking about last night. Callers asked about missing family members and neighbors. According to Bob Wang, alien influence corrupted the data banks of many of the populace and they had been brainwashed into wandering from their homes and places of work—and the authorities were in the process of finding them and deprogramming them.”
Noa’s jaw fell. Her brain sort of blinked off with the sheer stupidity of it all. But when she finally spoke, the words came in a torrent. “That’s crazy—massive viral attacks of that sort of magnitude don’t happen when there is a biological interface. Even cockroaches can ward off thought control!”
James’s jaw did that sideways movement; his eyebrows rose. “I did an experiment like that in seventh grade!”
Noa’s shoulders fell and she looked at a puddle of still water on the cave floor. “I did too. But a lot of people on Luddeccea don’t believe their kids should study neural nets.” She’d only done that experiment because her parents ha
d sent her and her siblings to a progressive fourth-wave school. She met James’s eyes. “There are a lot of people here who don’t believe in neural interfaces; and, even if they get one, they only use them for emergencies. They arrange their kids’ awakenings much later, they teach that the NI can be a direct ticket to the materialist culture of Old World sin, and that they are the antithesis of families.”
She touched the stumps of her fingers. And in some ways they were right, she supposed. Getting her interface had only increased Noa’s desire to get off world, to not become the happy housewife with six kids that Luddeccean culture encouraged. She pushed those thoughts aside. “So they’re claiming there are millions of people who just wandered off due to alien mind control?”
Voice too level, James said, “In part. Other callers asked about workers in the New Valley.” Noa lifted her gaze at the mention of Luddeccea’s small but growing cybernetics hub. The planet might be anti-tech, but the solar system was loaded with the rare metals that made cybernetics hum. Luddeccea’s New Valley was the perfect place to assemble the raw materials—cheap labor for the parts that had to be made by humans, with no need for an air dome, cosmic ray filters, or radioactive asteroid water. It was also where Ashley was from.
“The region is apparently a ghost town,” James continued. “According to Bob Wang, the workers were relocated to secure locations.”
Noa looked down at her tattoo. “They’re secure, all right.”
“It’s all very reminiscent of the Third Reich,” James said. “I’m sure many were exterminated … ”
Her skin started to heat at his calm, and the hair at the back of her neck stood on end.
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