Colony War

by Tarah Benner

  Then, suddenly, I get an idea. It’s so perfect and beautiful that I can’t believe it didn’t occur to me sooner.

  “We might be willing to forgo the hand sacrifice . . .” I say slowly, “if you step down as CEO and transfer full administrative access to Jared.”

  “What?” says Zephyr, letting out a derisive laugh. “I’m not doing that!”

  “Suit yourself,” says Jonah, pulling out his long knife. The blade catches the light as he twists it around, giving it an intimidating shine.

  “Wait!” Zephyr yelps, sounding more like a dog than a person.

  “You heard her,” says Jonah. “It’s your company or your hand.” His eyes flicker over to mine, and I can see that he’s impressed.

  Zephyr makes a whining noise and fidgets on the spot.

  “You’re wasting my time,” says Jonah, fingering his knife. “What’s it gonna be?”

  Zephyr looks from Jonah to the knife, as though trying to guess how much it would hurt.

  “Fine!” he cries, starting to sweat. “I’ll . . . I’ll do it.”

  “You’ll do what?” asks Jonah.

  “I’ll contact the rest of the board and let them know I’m stepping down.”

  “Do it now,” says Jonah, jerking his head to the desktop.

  “What? Not now . . .”

  “Do it!” Jonah yells. “Or it’s your hand on a silver platter. What Mordecai does to you when he finds out you’re still alive . . . That’s your business.”

  Zephyr gives Jonah a sour look, but he’s too terrified to argue. He slinks back to the center of the room, bends down, and fumbles to log in to his account. He spends the next ten minutes crafting a message to his fellow board members, glancing back at Jonah every so often.

  “That should do it,” I say, reading the message over his shoulder. “Hit send.”

  Zephyr hesitates, as if he’s still weighing his options. But then Jonah’s hand twitches back toward his knife, and Zephyr hits send. The plan is in motion.

  “We need to move fast,” I say to Jonah. “Mordecai will have seen that message go out. He’s going to send in his bots to get Zephyr. He still needs him.”

  “Right,” says Jonah, springing into action. “Keep him here.”

  I draw my weapon in case Zephyr tries to make a run for it.

  Jonah turns to go but then hesitates. He stops and takes the circuit stunner off his belt and hands it over to me.

  “Keep it,” I say. “You need one, too.”

  Jonah doesn’t listen. He takes a step closer and clips the device to my belt. To the observer, it would seem like a casual gesture, but I feel a surge of warmth erupt inside me.

  “Protect yourself,” he murmurs. “If the bots come, you barricade yourself in the stairwell and get to the top floor.”

  His dark-blue eyes are filled with resolve, and I give him a shaky nod. I grip my pistol a little tighter. The sweat on my palms has dried. My nerves have been replaced with determination. We can’t let Mordecai win.

  Jonah disappears and heads down to the basement to try to reposition the explosives. He doesn’t state the obvious, but we all know it’s risky. We’re still trapped inside the building. More bots will come, and we’ll have to hold them off.

  In that moment, I wish we still had Strom — the famed space architect who designed this very building. Instead, we’re relying on Jonah’s knowledge of explosives and his experience bringing down bunkers filled with malicious hackers.

  Still, this seems like our only chance to cripple Mordecai’s army — and, by extension, Mordecai himself. We can’t hurt him as long as he threatens us from a distance. We need him to show his face.

  Zephyr retreats to the corner with his hands held high, and I follow him closely with my weapon. I know he’s positioning himself as far away from the other CEOs as possible — in case Jonah accidentally detonates the explosives.

  Teegan looks somber. Zuni is furious. Si is still shamefaced, as though he regrets selling out.

  “Aren’t you worried?” Zephyr asks after a moment.

  He’s staring at me from across the room, his expression laced with venom.

  “What?”

  “Aren’t you worried that your boyfriend’s recklessness is going to get us all killed?”

  “You were all going to be killed in a couple of hours anyway,” I say coldly. “This is the best chance you’ve got.”

  I won’t be provoked by Zephyr. I can’t truthfully say that I’m not worried, but at the moment, my determination to bring down Mordecai is greater than my fear.

  Minutes pass at a sluggish pace. I have no idea what time it is. Every tiny creak and whisper of movement in the building sends my heart into overdrive.

  I keep expecting an army of bots to pour in through that door, but they never come. I’m not sure how I’d react if they did. Our plan is amorphous at best — suicidal at worst.

  I’m supposed to hold Zephyr at gunpoint and ensure that he doesn’t escape. The hostages are still trapped by their restraints until Jonah manages to disable the wireless. Until he does, we’re all sitting ducks, and one wrong move could blow us to pieces.

  I glance from one CEO to another, and then I see a change come over their faces. I turn toward the doorway, ready to fight, but it’s only Jonah covered in dust.

  “It’s done,” he says, striding into the room. He’s dirty and sweaty, and his expression is grim. He knows the worst is yet to come.

  Jonah slowly approaches Si and uses his knife to saw through the plastic restraints. Zuni and Teegan watch with bated breath, waiting for an explosion that never comes.

  When his restraints fall away, Si lets out a cry of relief and bursts into pitiful, choking sobs. It’s hard to know what he’s returning to now that he’s betrayed his company.

  Jonah moves to Teegan next, and Zuni is the last to be freed.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she says, shaking off the broken restraints and getting quickly to her feet.

  “Not yet,” says Jonah. “We have to wait for Mordecai’s bots. We need them trapped inside.”

  “Uh-uh,” says Zuni. “I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

  Jonah opens his mouth to retort, but then Teegan’s face goes deathly pale. “Guys,” she says, her voice full of urgency. “Guys!”

  I turn.

  Humanoids in white are pouring into the Workshop. Jonah and Zuni whip around, and Zuni takes an automatic step back.

  “Holy shit,” she gasps. “Holy shit.”

  The bots continue to fill the room, slowly encircling and blocking one exit. I’ve never seen these bots before. They’re a new batch here to do Mordecai’s bidding.

  We all back slowly toward the atrium, nobody daring to speak or breathe. But as soon as we cross the threshold into the lounge, the bots begin to follow.

  “Run!” Teegan cries, turning and running toward the café.

  Her yell seems to excite the bots. One moment they’re moving toward us at an almost leisurely pace. The next they’re sprinting across the room — accelerating their plan immediately.

  I turn and sprint back the way we came, horribly aware of the bots running behind me. We can’t outrun them — not for long. We need a better plan.

  “Get to the top floor and wait for me in the stairwell,” Jonah pants. “That’s the safest place to be when the building comes down. Don’t try to leave. We need the bots inside.”

  I nod and turn to look for Zuni and the others, but they’re already gone. They were headed for the atrium, but they must have split off where the hallway comes to a T.

  “Where are you going?” I call as Jonah takes off.

  “I need to find them and get back to the basement,” he huffs. “I’ll set the timer and meet you in the stairwell. The exits are locked. No one’s getting out. Stay away from the perimeter. Got it?”

  I shake my head. “What if you don’t get back up in time?”

  “I will.”

  �
��But —” My feeble protest disappears on the air. Jonah is already gone.

  I hate this. It’s a terrible plan. But it’s the only plan we’ve got.

  I take off running toward the emergency stairwell, the bots stampeding behind me. I turn to look over my shoulder and nearly freeze. The bots are right on my tail.

  I quicken my pace and pump my arms, but I’m not going to reach the stairwell. A second later, fingers close around my hair, and a surge of pain rips through my scalp.

  I let out a scream and turn toward my attacker, shoving Jared’s stunner into the bot.

  The device fries the bot instantly, and I see its whole system powering down. It teeters slowly on the spot, and I yank my hair out of its grip.

  A second later, another bot grabs my shirt, and I thrust out the device to catch it in the ribs. The device finishes that one, too, but then a third bot tackles me from behind.

  I’m airborne before I realize the impact. It hits me like a moving car, and for a second I’m weightless as my feet leave the ground. We soar through the air, me and the bot, and I have a split second of complete awareness.

  Then the bot slams me to the floor, and my chin bounces off the tile. A searing pain ricochets up my jaw, and tears automatically spring to my eyes. My vision contorts like a fun-house mirror, and my whole body quivers as the pain rocks through me.

  The stunner slips out of my grip. I watch it slide across the polished black floor, and everything inside me withers.

  I drop the gun and reach around for the stunner, but I feel cold hands encircle my neck. I struggle to free myself, but the choke just tightens. I suck in a breath, and the airflow stops.

  The bot pulls me backward until my spine bends. I struggle into an upright position, one knee bent on the cold hard floor. I feel a sickly smooth caress as the bot’s fingers brush my cheek. It’s preparing to snap my neck.

  I hear the slow clack of high heels to my right and see a second bot watching with a calculating stare. It isn’t angry; it isn’t prideful. It’s waiting for the job to be done.

  I take a deep breath. This is all I have left. One quick twist, and it will all be over.

  The last thing I see is the bot’s cold, ruthless face. But then something moves in my periphery.

  The bot turns to look to its left, and I catch a flash of shocking pink hair.

  30

  Maggie

  I blink numbly as oxygen floods my airways. My hands tingle as blood flow returns, and Teegan’s face comes into view.

  She just pummeled one bot with a long piece of pipe, and the bot choking me lets go. It turns to Teegan, who whips the pipe back around, and I lunge for Jonah’s stunner.

  Teegan lets out a cry as the bot catches the pipe, tossing it aside as if it’s nothing. I see a familiar look of terror cross Teegan’s face — the look you get right before you die.

  I throw myself at the bot and jam the stunner in its neck, and Teegan’s eyes widen as the bot falls to the ground. The other bot is getting up slowly, but I catch it with the stunner before it can stand.

  The current rips through the second bot’s chest, and Teegan and I watch it crumple to the floor.

  “Thanks,” I pant, looking at Teegan.

  “No problem,” she croaks. She’s still visibly shaken.

  I just got a massive adrenaline rush, and my body is pulsing with energy. Five more bots are advancing slowly, and I read the terror in Teegan’s eyes.

  It was one thing to stick around when I was in mortal danger. Now we’re in way over our heads.

  “Go!” I say. “I’ll hold them off.”

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod. “Get to the stairwell — top floor. Stay away from the perimeter.”

  Teegan doesn’t ask again. She takes off at a sprint, and I tighten my grip on the device. I’ve got one more hit before it needs to recharge, and five of the bots are running toward me.

  I look around for something I can use. All I see are flimsy plastic tables and chairs.

  Shit.

  I comb the floor for my lost stunner and see it hiding under one of the tables. If I could just get to it . . .

  But then the nearest bot charges. I thrust out the stunner like a sword, but the force of the bot’s momentum knocks me back.

  I hit the ground, and another bot is on me before the first one has fallen. I yank my leg out of its grip and belly crawl under the table as though I’m doing Jonah’s obstacle course.

  My hand closes around the device, and not a second too soon. The bot crawling after me grabs me by the knee, and I have just enough time to zap it with the device before a second bot grabs my table and flings it across the room.

  I look up. The bot is standing there like the goddess of war. Its dark hair is hanging down to the waist in tiny meticulous braids, and I wouldn’t be surprised if its eyes were glowing.

  As I lie there, the bot picks up one of the chairs and slams it onto the floor. I roll out of the way just in time, but its boot flies out and catches me in the ribs.

  I groan in pain, feeling around for the device. I manage to grab it, but it’s not recharged. I go for my pistol and fire off three rounds, but the bullets ricochet off its body. The bot doesn’t even blink.

  The others are advancing, focused on the device in my lap. They aren’t worried about the handgun. Their eyes are on the stunner.

  Something in their weird hive mind has identified the device as a threat, and I use their momentary lapse in focus to pull myself to my feet. I hold out the stunner, and the bot goddess steps back.

  It’s avoiding the device that brought down the other bots. This one doesn’t know that the device needs to recharge.

  I turn and make a break for the stairwell, sprinting blindly across the atrium. I can hear the bots following me at a careful distance, formulating their next attack.

  I don’t stop until I reach the stairwell. I take the steps two at a time, my heart hammering in my throat. I hear the rattle of the door handle and know the bots are close behind.

  I quicken my pace on the stairs, ignoring the stabbing pain in my side. In that moment I wish I’d given more effort in Jonah’s cardio workouts, but it’s a little too late for that.

  Choking and gasping, I clear three flights, but I hear the bots getting closer.

  This is bullshit. I’m winded and exhausted, and they’re still moving like track stars.

  I don’t know how long I have before Jonah blows the whole place up, but I know I need to get them out of the stairwell.

  I throw myself into the steel door and emerge onto the fourth floor. From the looks of my surroundings, I’ve reached the offices of middle management. The individual offices are bigger than my old apartment — each with its own little balcony.

  I pause for a moment in the hallway — catching my breath while I wait for a bot. When the first one spots me, I sprint through the door and dash down the hallway toward the far corner of the floor.

  It’s a long shot, but it’s the best idea I have. It’s also the only idea I have.

  I run into the nearest office and lock the door behind me. I can see figures moving on the other side and know that the bots followed me. I head onto the balcony and close the sliding door, and a second later, an arm breaks through the office wall.

  The bot punches out the rest of the glass and steps into the office. I turn away and climb onto the ledge, and for the first time it hits me that my plan might not work.

  Four stories looks much higher than I thought it would. Cars are moving like slugs below, and I can see the entire Bay Area sprawled beneath me.

  The ledge of the nearest balcony looms in the distance — some six or seven feet from where I’m standing.

  My hands are sweaty. My legs are shaking. But then I hear the door shatter behind me, and I know that it’s now or never.

  Gathering every ounce of strength I possess, I jump, and that second that I’m airborne seems to last a lifetime. I feel the familiar jolt as my stomach drops out fro
m under me — as though I missed a step coming down the stairs.

  I miss the ledge.

  The sole of my shoe slips, and I get another pang of queasiness as my entire body flies forward.

  I crash face-first onto the balcony, scraping my hands on the rough concrete. I land with a skid and roll onto my back, tears welling up in my eyes.

  I get to my feet and stare across at the bots. They’ve all followed me out to the balcony, and now one is preparing to jump. She steps onto the ledge and takes the leap — no nerves or hesitation.

  My exhilaration morphs into terror as the bot flies toward me, pale fingers outstretched for my neck. For a split second it’s coming straight at me, and in the next, it’s gone.

  I stare at the spot where the bot just vanished, baffled until I hear a crash down below.

  Rushing to the edge of the balcony, my eyes have to confirm what my gut already knows. The bot misjudged the distance and leapt to its death.

  I let out a shuddering breath of relief, hardly able to believe my luck, and another bot climbs onto the ledge.

  It leaps and misses, and a third follows behind. This one seems to have benefitted from the others’ mistakes. Its spiderlike fingers catch the edge of the balcony, and it pulls itself up with very little effort.

  I’m officially out of time.

  Gripping my pistol, I smash the glass door and jump into the next office over. I fly out of the room and back down the hall, across the floor to the emergency stairwell.

  I can feel my senses returning with panic. Any minute now, this building will blow.

  Heaving for breath, I reach the stairwell. The stitch in my side feels like a knife, and it’s all I can do to keep my legs moving. I grip the railing with sweaty hands and pull myself up one step at a time.

  I have to reach the top. That’s what Jonah said. My vision blurs and I feel my legs wobble, but I force myself to keep going.

  Just then, I feel the earth shift. It starts out as a gentle rock, and for a moment I’m just a child standing at the top of the Empire State Building. Maverick HQ lives and breathes. The building is a tree in the wind.