by Tarah Benner
When the doors to Maverick whoosh open, I find Tripp standing out in the hall. He’s wearing a very un-Tripp-like expression: solemn, sincere, and worried. “Careful, Mags.”
“Always am.”
“Just . . .” He glances at Jade, who strode right past him without so much as a glance. “Look out for you. I don’t trust Jade as far as I can throw her.”
“That makes two of us,” I mumble, raising an eyebrow.
I quicken my pace to catch up to Jade, who’s moving like a woman on a mission. She doesn’t have time for good-luck hugs. She doesn’t have time for anyone.
As we leave research and tech and approach Sector L, I see Jonah leaning against the wall. He’s tossing a stunner in one hand and looks more agitated than usual.
Two disabled bots lie at his feet. I guess that he’s waiting for more.
I feel his eyes on me as we approach, and a familiar tightness squeezes my chest. When I look up at Jonah and catch his eye, something like understanding passes between us. I sense him debating whether or not to say something, but I just swallow down my feelings and follow Jade.
A moment later, I hear footsteps coming up behind me — the heavy slap of Space Force boots.
“Wait!”
I turn over my shoulder and see Jonah running toward me. “You have everything you need?”
“I think so.”
I avoid Jonah’s gaze as he comes nearer, swallowing down my nerves. I’ve got a stunner in each hand and a sidearm on my hip. My overshirt has come untucked. Jonah lifts the hem to check for extra clips, and I get this little swoop in my chest.
Jonah at a loss for words? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that. His expression is questioning, worried, and torn. I know he wants to come with us.
As I stand here, I remember the moment we shared in Vault. That was the last time I saw him like this. In the cafeteria, he was overrun with emotion. That was before he kissed me.
“Jesus, can we go?” asks Jade in annoyance.
Her voice jolts me back to the present, and I remember that I’m about to face a pack of humanoids.
Jonah draws his hand away.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice coming out funny. “Good luck getting the transmitter from the shuttle.”
Jonah nods and tears his eyes away. Jade scoffs and breaks into a jog.
I lope after her with reluctance. She’s in much better shape than I am, and within a few seconds I have a stitch in my side. It merges with the persistent pain in my ribs — a lovely souvenir from Buford’s kidnapping.
“Are they always like that?” Jade huffs.
Oh, great. She likes to talk while she runs.
“Like what?”
Jade makes a wimpy, moony sound in her throat, and I get a twitch of irritation. “Oh, Maggie, be careful,” she says in a mocking tone. “Geez. You’re not shipping off to Russia.”
“They’re my friends,” I say defensively.
“Yeah, okay,” says Jade. “Wasn’t that one guy your CO?”
“Sort of. It’s . . . complicated.”
“I’ll say. You could cut the sexual tension with a knife.”
I don’t know how to respond to that. I feel a flush creep up my neck, and I’m relieved when she slows to a walk.
“Is it that obvious?”
Jade raises both eyebrows. “It’s pathetic.”
I feel my embarrassment morph into anger. Fuck Jade. She doesn’t know me. Between my kidnapping, the bot takeover, and Mordecai’s reign of terror, I’ve been too busy to sort out my love life. “Yeah, well, it’s not as though we’ve had a lot of time to talk about our feelings.”
“I didn’t say you were pathetic,” says Jade. “You’re obviously more capable than those assholes.”
“Tripp and Jonah?”
“Mmmhmm. They’ve got it bad.”
I roll my eyes. Great. I’d thought maybe I’d been imagining it with Tripp, but if Jade’s right and he’s caught feelings, I’ve got one more thing to deal with.
As we draw closer to the newsroom, I feel a low-grade panic spreading through my body. The last time I was there, the place was swarming with bots, and we’ve only got twelve stuns between us.
Still, it’s a relief not to have to talk about Tripp and Jonah. I don’t want to think about what may or may not be going on with Tripp’s flirtation and Jonah’s strange moodiness.
I’m so preoccupied that I round the corner to the atrium and almost smack into a bot. This one is designed to look like a man, and behind it are two females — blond, beautiful, and deadly.
For half a second I just stand there staring into the male’s icy blue eyes. My feet seem to grow roots as its arm shoots out and clamps down on my throat.
Pain as I’ve never known surges from my neck through the back of my head. I feel its fingers crushing my windpipe, blocking the flow of air to my brain.
Terror and hatred flood through my body. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Everything goes fuzzy. The bot’s face becomes a blur of color, and I flail my arms uselessly.
But then I see movement in my periphery as Jade springs forward. She stuns the bot in the chest, and I feel the pressure subside as the stunner does its work.
All of a sudden I can breathe again, and I stagger back in relief. The bot crumples like a ragdoll, and Jade swings out with a kick. It strikes the nearest female in the head, and the bot steps back — jarred from the impact.
Jade doesn’t stop. She lunges at the bot with a sound that’s barely human, driving it back against the railing. She isn’t using her stunner, I realize. She’s trying to preserve the charge.
She’s got the bot pinned — at least for now — and she’s trying to push it onto the lower deck.
The bot seems to be frozen, processing Jade’s actions. For a second I just stand there like an idiot, but then the third bot lunges toward me.
I jump out of the way, but not fast enough. The bot seems to be in two places at once.
As soon as I move, the bot moves, too, catching my ankle with its foot. I trip spectacularly and fly toward the ground, and the bot dives on top of me. I hit the floor in a burst of pain, but I manage to zap it with the stunner.
I roll the bot off me, heaving for air, and feel another throb of pain. My entire body feels as though it’s been steamrolled, and I have aches and bruises everywhere.
I run over to the railing, where Jade and the bot are still locked in battle. The bot is stronger, and it’s winning. It’s pushing Jade back.
I don’t think. I just jam the stunner into the bot’s side, and Jade tosses it over the railing. The bot hits the floor of the lower deck with a resounding smack, and Jade meets my gaze with fiery eyes.
“Why did you do that?” she pants in annoyance.
“Excuse me?”
“I had it under control.”
“Oh, yeah,” I choke, my voice acidic. “That’s exactly what it looked like.”
“You shouldn’t have wasted a charge.”
I take a deep breath, wanting to shake her. “I didn’t have a choice,” I splutter. “They’re literally superhuman. You can’t beat them in a wrestling match. You just have to stun them.”
“The only reason they’re so hard to beat is because of their processing capabilities,” says Jade. “They know what any sensible human would do a split second before it happens. But they can’t handle the unpredictable.”
“What?”
She raises both eyebrows, as if telling me a secret. “You have to be a crazy motherfucker.”
For a moment, I just stare at her. Is she for real? Just act so crazy that the bots can’t predict what the hell you might do next? I shake my head. “You can’t fight them,” I say. “That isn’t an option.”
Jade gives me a dark look. “Fighting them is our only option.”
Jade and I aren’t going to agree. I’m starting to think she really is crazy, but we have to keep going. We’re standing just outside the newsroom, but we’re down three charges already.
Holding my breath, I approach the door. Glass panels run along the sides of the door, and I’m able to see inside.
The newsroom is painted red with charcoal carpeting and outfitted with modern white furniture. Apart from the large glass conference room that doubles as a studio, the newsroom has an open floor plan. Desks are scattered along both walls, and I count eight humanoids overseeing the press corps.
The reporters look nervous, and I don’t blame them. It’s hard enough to work on a story with an oppressive editor breathing down your neck. It would be impossible to create quality propaganda with a bunch of killer bots lurking around.
“Ready?” I ask.
Jade gives me a look that suggests she was “born ready,” and I hold back an eye roll. Between the two of us, I have more experience with these creepy things, and Jade is out of her league.
Taking a deep breath, I walk across the hall and pull the tab for the fire alarm. A high-pitched wail pierces my ears, and instantly the emergency doors slide closed to seal the sector.
I knew this would happen. It was part of the plan. But watching our escape route disappear still sends me into panic.
Looking into the newsroom, I see a bunch of confused looks. Nobody seems to know what to do, but the bots are moving toward the exit.
Jade’s whole face tightens as she waits around the corner. I stay where I am, and when the first two bots see me, Jade jumps out and stuns them.
The bots’ expressions go blank before they crash to the floor. Jade waits to see if the others will emerge, but they seem to have caught on to our trick. Jade and I storm into the room as if we’re marching into battle, ready to stun any bot in our path.
My co-workers are still standing around their desks, looking shell-shocked and confused. Nobody seems to know whether or not there’s a fire, and no one looks happy to see me.
Jade stuns the first bot that rushes us, stepping over its lifeless body to head off another. But then a third bot emerges from behind a partition and grabs Jade around the neck. Jade squats down with a pained expression and tosses the bot over her shoulder. The bot hits the ground with a deafening thud, but it doesn’t relinquish its hold. It seems to be choking her from the front — an impossible feat for a human.
I rush forward to stun the bot just as Jade’s face starts to change color. But then I see five more bots converging, and my math doesn’t add up.
There were two more bots than I thought — one behind the partition and another hovering behind the backdrop we use for the broadcast.
In that instant, Jade’s words echo in my mind: You have to be a crazy motherfucker.
Right then, I don’t think. I just throw myself at one of the bots with a deranged battle cry. The bot steps aside to avoid a collision, and I grab Alex’s swivel chair. I whip the chair across my body, releasing it at the last second and flinging it toward the humanoid.
All the bots seem to freeze, their eyes latching on to me. I can almost see their hive mind working, struggling to shape an opinion. Then a line of white polyester aligns as they shift their bodies toward me.
The bots have identified me as a threat, and they’re mobilizing against me. Two of them dive toward me at once — a redhead and a Latin male with a swoop of silky black hair. I take an automatic step back, and Jade lunges at a third, plunging her stunner into its back and bringing it to its knees.
Just then, I detect a shift in the bots’ priorities. They’ve realized the stunners are our only real weapons, and their priorities have changed. The redhead grabs me by the arm, and the male seizes my other side.
Agony shoots through my shoulders as they yank my arms back, and I feel a third bot trying to claw the stunner from my grip. My shoulders pop as the bots twist my arms, but then out of nowhere, I hear a human cry.
Isabelle Larsson, the Swedish correspondent, is sprinting across the room. She’s dressed in a smart white pantsuit and high heels, and she’s wielding a piece of camera equipment.
She whacks one of my bots hard across the head, and it turns to deflect her second strike. I use the distraction to pivot toward the other and take it out at the knees.
We fall to the ground in a painful crash, and I feel my back muscles rebelling. Every inch of my body hurts, but I grab my stunner off the ground and shove it into the bot’s chest. Another bot swoops down behind me to break my neck, but I whip around and stun it, too.
Just then, one of the techs — Jamie or Jeremy — flings a folding table at a humanoid sprinting across the room toward Jade. The bot deflects the table as though it were nothing, and it crashes against the wall.
Jade reaches down and grabs a tripod, holding it up with her feet spread wide. The bot stops in its tracks, analyzing Jade, and I sense Jade’s hesitation.
My gaze flickers between Jade and the bots, and I understand what she’s doing. Jade is keeping the bots’ focus on her. This is my chance.
Moving as quietly as I can, I take a step back and find the wall. There’s a recessed glass case with a fire extinguisher inside. I meet Jamie/Jeremy’s gaze and nod toward a swivel chair.
In one sharp motion, I drive my elbow back and feel no resistance as I break the glass. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the bots’ heads snap around. The first one lunges across the room just as Jamie/Jeremy thrusts out the chair. It knocks the bot’s feet out from under it, and Jade stuns it in the chest. The second bot is still racing toward me, and I whip the fire extinguisher around to clobber it in the head.
That only buys me a second or two before the bot drives me back on my heels. My head slams against the wall, and stars erupt in my vision. One moment I’m staring into the eyes of death; the next I’m shifting my torso two inches to the right.
A long metal rod slices through the bot’s middle, and I use its momentary distraction to bring down the fire extinguisher with a crushing blow.
I see a flash of sparks as I smash the bot’s head. The silicone tears, its faux hair parts, and I see bits of metal and plastic. I bring the extinguisher down again, and this time I hit something crucial.
The bot seems to undergo some mechanical failure, teetering on the spot. It’s wearing the metal rod like a shish kebab, and Jade is staring at me with newfound respect.
“What — the — fuck?” comes a voice from behind her. I turn to look toward the middle of the newsroom, where Alex has emerged from the soundproof glass booth. For the first time, she looks absolutely speechless.
“You’re a lot of help . . . But Jeremy and Isabelle were good.”
“Actually, it’s Jamie,” says the meek-looking tech, nervously adjusting his glasses.
“Sorry.”
“Whatever,” says Alex. “Can we do the real news now? I’ve been reading fake shit all day.”
“Not yet,” I say, glancing over at Jade. “I need a favor — and it’s a big one.”
18
Maggie
I’ve never shot a terrorist video before. Then again, I’ve never been trapped on a space station with a psychopath and an army of evil bots, either. I’ve also never had so much fun with lighting and makeup in the newsroom.
Alex is scarily helpful in staging the set for our video. We hang a white sheet across one corner of the studio and turn out all the lights to give it a dim, basement-y feel. Jade borrows a baggy black sweatshirt from Jamie and an American flag from two offices down to hang upside down on the wall.
We get what we need in the first take. When it’s done, we put the studio back the way it was, and I give Alex a pat of face powder. She rolls her mouth around to set her serious news-anchor expression, and Jamie runs her intro.
“Good afternoon. Thanks for being with us. For the past nine years, the Bureau for Chaos has become synonymous with fear. In 2068, President Newman announced his war on cyberterrorism and created a special US task force charged with eradicating the Bureau from secret bunkers all over the world. This task force was successful in containing the Bureau’s influence in China and Russia, but in
2072, President Graham pledged to end these costly military engagements. Earlier this year, he withdrew the last troops from Siberia. But recent events have caused many people to wonder whether the Bureau is experiencing a resurgence. Earlier this afternoon, a woman claiming to be Jade Armaz released a video taking responsibility for the attack on Air Force One. The White House has not confirmed the authenticity of the video and has long insisted that Armaz was dead. But several high-ranking military officials have vocalized their concerns that Armaz may still be at large. Take a look.”
On cue, Jamie cuts to the footage of Jade, who’s staring at the camera with the cold expression of a sociopath. Even though I know the video is a fake, the look in Jade’s eyes still chills me to the bone.
“My name is Jade Armaz,” she says. “I am the founder of the Bureau for Chaos. If you’re watching this, it means that we have succeeded. We have brought down POTUS — the illegitimate leader who colluded with Silicon Valley to destroy Americans’ rights to privacy. I would like to invite each and every one of you to join me in restoring the freedom that is rightfully ours.”
Jade pauses for dramatic effect.
“Every moment of every day, the technology we rely on betrays us. It’s being used to control our desires, shape our opinions, and destroy our financial freedom. Our government has not protected us. It has betrayed us. It has paved the way for corporations to steal more of our freedoms and destroy what little privacy we have left. You are being followed and tracked just as I was followed and tracked. It’s a sickness of epidemic proportions. But today is a day for celebration, because we are one step closer to bringing down the corrupt government that allowed this —”
Suddenly, the little red “On Air” sign goes dark. The projection of the broadcast I’m watching disappears.
I look over at Alex. She’s waving her arms at the other tech, who seems to be fiddling with his desktop. Then Alex lets out a curse, stands up, and comes storming out of the booth.
“Clark!” she shrieks, tearing the mic off her blouse. “What the hell?”