by Meg LaTorre
Kicking the board on, she flew out of her room, through the palace, into the ballroom, and out into open air.
Flying high, she saw exactly what she’d been afraid of.
Hundreds of feds formed lines in front of the palace gates. Her friends stood on the other side, attempting to lower it, unaware of their impending doom.
Where is the dragon?
Spotting the creature where it perched on a rooftop, sunning like a housecat, Gwen flew over to it.
“Hey!” she shouted. “Remember me?”
As the scaled creature turned its feline gaze on her, she grabbed her pistol and aimed.
Sorry, little buddy.
Then she fired.
The dragon roared as the bullet pinged harmlessly off its scaly hide. Reloading, she shot a second time. That got its attention. Scraping its claws against the shingled rooftop, it pushed into the air, wings flapping furiously as it flew toward her.
Yanking on her board, she turned around and headed back toward the palace gates.
Gwen felt the fire before she saw it.
Shifting the gears on her skimmer, she dived down, narrowly avoiding a plume of flames. Behind her, the dragon snarled.
As she flew back toward the palace, she noted more soldiers pouring down the city streets, eager to hunt the cyborgs.
The soldiers would never let them leave this planet. They wouldn’t believe the cyborgs had nothing to do with the attack on their emperor or that one woman had turned them all into mindless zombies. To the prejudiced humans, all of the cyborgs would be guilty and either executed or used in experiments.
Seeing Gwen and her scaled companion, the soldiers and feds in front of the palace gates turned. Eyes wide, they aimed guns and crossbows skyward. She flew toward them, revving the engine, the ground flying by beneath her. Arrows thunked into the base of Gwen’s board, but none hit the engine. The dragon wasn’t so lucky. Countless bullets bounced off its underbelly. When a crossbow bolt wedged into one of its legs, the creature roared.
The dragon spewed fire over the city, cooking soldiers inside their metal armor. Men screamed, and the smell of roasting flesh filled the air. Those untouched by the dragon’s first bout of flames reloaded their guns and crossbows and fired again. Temporarily unconcerned with Gwen, the dragon turned its full attention toward the soldiers.
Quickly, she circled back to her friends.
They’d slipped out of the main gates while the soldiers had their backs turned and were running through the city streets. Rora had an arm slung over Marzanna’s shoulders, but they kept pace with the other cyborgs.
Gwen flew down to them, shouting over the screams of dying men and the crackling flames. “We need to get to the ship before the forcefield goes up!”
She knew as well as any tinkerer of safety protocols on important planets, such as Covenant. Those who could afford it installed massive forcefields over a city or location, which prevented ships from returning to space by erecting a massive, impenetrable forcefield in the shape of a dome over a location.
Her friends nodded, and she took to the air.
The dragon had made quick work of the soldiers. Most of them were dead or far too injured to raise a weapon toward the cyborgs running past them.
Once more, Gwen reached for her favorite pistol and reloaded it.
Sending a quiet apology into the ethos, she flew toward the scarlet dragon and fired. This time, the bullet didn’t just bounce off its hide; it pinged off its head.
“Oops.”
Turning, the dragon belched flame.
Revving her engine, Gwen flew toward the city where squadrons of feds stormed toward the smoking palace.
Civilians ducked inside buildings, slamming doors and pulling shutters closed. Seeing them, she tried to shove her guilt down.
These people would kill you, given a chance.
She weaved between the buildings, dragon fire at her heels. It didn’t catch at first since most of the buildings were made of stone with slate roofs, rather than the wood common in rural areas. But when she ducked around an automated carriage, the dragon’s hot breath behind her, wood, wheels, and other debris flew into the air as the flames met the fuel tank, and the carriage exploded.
Flying off her skimmer, she skidded across the ground. The cobblestone streets bit into her skin, slicing through her clothes. She tumbled beneath an alcove. As her skimmer skidded down the street, the soldiers’ arrows on the base of the board snapped off.
Another roar split the sky, which was quickly followed by gunfire and the zipping of arrows.
Ignoring the pain from countless cuts and her broken leg in its torn cast, she clambered to her feet and hobbled toward her skimmer. As she emerged from beneath the alcove, a plume of flames erupted down a nearby street. She rolled forward, grabbing her board and landing feetfirst. Then she took to the sky.
The dragon was once again thoroughly occupied by the dozens of soldiers in the streets below and on rooftops. Its cyborg talons ripped through slate roofs as it clawed at balconies where soldiers aimed massive crossbows, trying to bring the scarlet dragon down.
As she’d hoped, with a dragon on the loose, the city should be less inclined to host execution parties for the escaping cyborgs.
Silently praying the dragon would survive the day and apologizing for antagonizing it, she turned, looking for her friends. It took her a few minutes to find them, but they were nearing the docks. She flew down to them.
“How much farther?” Rora asked, gasping.
“Two blocks.” Sweat poured down Gwen’s face, and she ignored the throbbing pain in her leg.
At the docks, people scurried to their ships, land-bound or ready for space travel. Men and women pushed each other aside in their haste, and some even shoved people into the waters far below. Gwen hovered low on her skimmer, her empty pistol in one hand.
When one man tried to push their group aside, she held her pistol to his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” He didn’t need to know the damned thing was empty.
Eyes wide, he scurried around them.
When they neared Obedient, watchmen guarded the gangway and were stationed across the ship’s main deck.
“You aren’t supposed to have returned yet,” the watchman at the base of the gangway said.
“We got back early,” Gwen said from where she hovered on her skimmer. “Step aside. There’s been a change of plans.” When the guard didn’t move, she looked around. “Where the hell is Emmeline?”
Rora ambled forward. “I know that voice.” Raising her hands slowly, she removed the watchman’s mask. The woman didn’t move at her touch.
The mask and helmet clattered onto the dock as Rora gasped. “Philippa? I thought you were dead.”
Philippa had a fair complexion, and she might have once been blond. But like every watchman Gwen had seen today without their mask, her head was shaved. She had large brown eyes and a soft jaw that suggested she had once been beautiful.
“There isn’t time for this.” Without warning, Gwen struck Philippa over the side of the head with her pistol. Rora managed to catch her before she fell to the ground. “Bring her on board. We’ll tinker with her chip later if we’re still alive by the end of this.”
Emmeline appeared before the gangway.
“Timely as always,” Gwen muttered. “Have the cyborgs prepare the ship for takeoff. We leave yesterday.”
“Who put you in charge?” Emmeline bit back, but she had already pulled out the strange device she’d used earlier to control the cyborgs.
“I did when you tried to get us all killed.”
The watchmen and performers hurried onto the ship in a strange silence before standing utterly still on the main deck.
After a minute of working on her device, Emmeline pocketed the machine once more. “Done.”
All at once, everyone started moving. The watchmen who’d remained with the ship as well as all the remaining watchmen and performers who’d come from the
city readied the engines and lowered the sails.
To Gwen’s annoyance, Abrecan had somehow been one of the few to survive.
With the deaths of the watchmen and performers, there were fewer than one hundred cyborgs now.
“Marzanna!” Gwen shouted, uncertain where she’d gone off to. “Get Bastian’s chip back into his head. He has some experience flying, so we need him up and running.”
Unlike the rest of the cyborgs, Bastian’s chip hadn’t been tampered with by uploading malicious coding. Instead, he’d been given a completely new one. Therefore, they should be able to bring him back to help in their escape without the need to update his coding in a portable mainframe.
From the little Bastian had told her of his past, he’d overseen some of the trading vessels for his family’s business. She prayed Emmeline hadn’t done anything to his original chip.
Come back to me. I need you.
Marzanna appeared before her, and Gwen passed Bastian’s chip to her.
The forcefield still hadn’t been put up, and Gwen breathed a sigh of relief. They were going to make it. They were—
Suddenly, a rippling boom shook the city. Waves tossed the docked vessels, and they all clung to the sides of the ship.
A shimmering wave of air rose from the edges of the city and surrounding land and water. Several ships were already skyborne, hoping to flee the burning city and its dragon. They throttled the engines to get out of the range of the forcefield. But it caught one ship, slicing the back clean off. Without its engines, it fell, splashing into the lake below. The second ship bounced off the forcefield, careening backward, but it managed to remain airborne.
Too soon, the forcefield closed, forming a massive shimmering dome around the city.
They were trapped.
Chapter 38
Rora looked at Gwen. “What now?”
Gwen thought frantically.
The forcefield was made of energy, plasma, or particles and was likely tied to a doctored-up reverse gravitational machine of sorts. No smaller generator would be able to support a forcefield of this size. A narrow slip of energy from the very top of the forcefield trickled down to the palace at the center of the city. That had to be where the machine was. If she could disable it, even temporarily, they should be able to slip into space and, ideally, before the shield came back up.
“The plan remains the same.” Gwen grabbed her pack, which contained the portable mainframe and a small tool kit. She removed the mainframe and passed it to Rora. “Put this somewhere safe. Have Bastian get this ship in the sky. Hover as high as you can, but don’t get near that forcefield until I get it down.”
Once, she’d been willing to leave these people, to abandon the circus and those she’d come to know. She’d thought she had nothing left to fight for. But these cyborgs had become her new family and in some ways had replaced the family she could no longer remember. And she’d proven to herself that she was capable. If she could solve Rora and Marzanna’s sleeping curse, she could sure as hell figure out how to bring down a forcefield.
Glancing to Bastian, whose eyes shone with a strange vacancy, she wished more than anything she could say goodbye. But there wasn’t time to wait for Marzanna to remove Emmeline’s chip and replace it with his. The longer they waited, the more time they gave the feds and emperor’s soldiers a chance to catch up with them. There was also no way of knowing how long it would take for her Bastian to return. Lingering, she studied his features, wondering if it would be the final time. His olive skin was pale, and dried blood was crusted on his face.
The once irritable ringleader, who’d clung to power for a sense of purpose, was not the beast he’d pretended to be. He cared deeply for the performers and for her.
It’s my turn to save you.
Swallowing back the tightness in her throat, Gwen turned from him as she reloaded her pistol. Marzanna and Rora studied her with knowing eyes.
You plan to sacrifice yourself, their expressions seemed to say.
Emmeline eyed Gwen with a stiff set to her jaw.
“I’m the only one who has a chance of getting that forcefield down. Not too long ago, I was no cyborg tinkerer. I figured that out. Now, it’s time to tinker with a generator. I’ll get back as soon as I can.” Gwen limped onto her board and kicked her skimmer’s engine on. “As soon as the forcefield goes down, set a course straight for space. Don’t wait for me.”
Without another word, she set off into the sky, heading straight for the narrow slip of energy connecting the forcefield to the center of the city. She prayed she wouldn’t capitally fuck this up.
But she wasn’t the same tinkerer who’d signed a circus contract for a chance at life. She’d learned more about coding, engineering, and tinkering. In so doing, she’d learned to be more confident in herself. She hoped she’d hold on to that confidence when she came face-to-face with a forcefield technology she didn’t understand.
The dragon, still holding visiting hours with the city guard, didn’t notice her flying over houses and buildings a short distance away. She soared over the palace’s gates. A strange buzzing filled her ears as she neared the slip of energy. The closer she flew, the louder it became.
To her surprise, the energy didn’t come from an outdoor courtyard, as she’d expected. Instead, it came from what she’d once thought was an enclosed room within the castle itself. Now that she was in the sky, she could see a massive opening in the roof.
A shimmering white-blue energy crackled and sparked.
Flying down, she groaned before removing her pistol and a knife. Half a dozen guards in steel armor surrounded a massive generator. She fired her pistol, shooting a man in the head. At the same time, a knife flew from her other hand. It connected with a second guard’s neck. Both fell to the ground.
The remaining soldiers spun toward her.
Turning her board, she grabbed two more knives from the sheaths on her good leg, moving to cut down the next guard. She struck out, managing to knock his helmet free. A hand latched on to the back of her skimmer, and she tumbled to the ground. Rolling, she sliced upward with her knives, catching a soldier in the armpit.
The final three soldiers surrounded her.
She moved on instinct, courtesy of years of experience out in open space. Even with the adrenaline coursing through her veins, she was far too slow. Dangerously slow with her leg dragging.
When the first soldier charged with his sword, she slipped within his defenses and ran her knife over his exposed throat.
Pain tore through her senses, and tears welled in her eyes from the movement.
Over the roar of the forcefield, she heard the telltale click of a gun being loaded. Unable to move fast enough, a zing of pain shot through her as a bullet punctured her shoulder. Dropping her knives, she grabbed the soldier she’d just killed. She yanked with all of her might, using his body as a shield and narrowly deflecting a second bullet.
Something clattered to the floor, and she moved on instinct, dropping the body.
Two others dived for her at once. She rolled backward, cringing as pain rocketed through her shoulder and leg. Fingers scrabbling, she found a discarded gun, praying it was loaded. Aiming, she fired. One of the soldiers fell. But the last guard was on her, body crushing her into the ground.
Hands wrapped around her throat, and she gasped for air.
Somehow, the gun had slipped free from her grasp. Desperate, she felt along the ground for a knife, a weapon, anything. As blackness filled her vision, she knew she had mere moments before she lost consciousness.
Her fingers touched a cool metal surface, and she grabbed it, slamming it into the soldier’s helmet. The two helmets slammed together, metal clanging. With a grunt, he fell off her, and his helmet clattered to the floor. Seeing her knife a few feet away, she lunged for it before the man was on her again. She sliced upward, and he reeled back, clutching his eye. Blood flowed from the wound, blinding him in one eye. Swinging, she thumped him in the temple with the hilt
of her knife. His body went limp before he collapsed onto the marble floor.
Rising to her feet, she limped to the massive machine at the center of the room. She pulled her pack off her shoulders, grimacing at the pain. But she removed her tool kit and lay it out on the ground.
As she’d guessed, the machine was set up similarly to a ship’s artificial gravity generator. There was the very obvious off switch—a red handle at the corner—but it would only be a matter of time before more soldiers arrived and turned the machine back on. She couldn’t risk alerting the palace to her presence yet. The noise of the forcefield may have covered up the gunshots, but a lowering forcefield would certainly raise suspicions.
She moved around the machine, skidding on the fallen soldiers’ blood.
Removing the metal plating from behind the forcefield’s off switch, she saw massive wheels and gears, along with complex wiring, ducts, and rotor system spinning on a circular track.
As she watched the machine work for a moment, an idea formed.
She thought of how she’d swapped Marzanna’s wiring to fix her foot, and how it had short-circuited, sending her into a coma for weeks.
Could it really be that easy?
Donning rubber gloves from her pack and reaching into the machine, she replaced several of the wires, moving them to different outlets. Some of the wires sparked as she worked. The machine made a strange coughing noise, the gears clinking as the generator worked harder to maintain the forcefield.
Still, the forcefield remained functional.
Damn it. She knew plenty about ships, but—like cyborgs—forcefields were outside of her area of expertise.
Before she could brainstorm further, she heard a roar over the hum of the forcefield’s plasma energy. When she looked up, her heart dropped. The dragon hovered above the opening in the ceiling.
Not now.
It slipped around the forcefield’s energy, flying into the domed room. She rolled, narrowly missing a plume of white-orange flames. Behind her, her tool kit melted into useless liquid metal.
Looking around, it took her a moment to spot her skimmer. It lay several paces away, partially buried beneath soldiers’ bodies. The dragon turned in the room, circling back. Ignoring the piercing pain in her leg and shoulder, she staggered forward and shoved the bodies off. She grabbed the board and dodged behind a nearby column as another spout of fire filled the room where she’d just stood.