by Almney King
Kailes spun me around so that I faced the end of the hall. “Be careful, Corrine. Be strong. And fight. Fight hard. We’ll be fighting too. And remember that I’m with you. That God is with you.”
I rushed to the window. Down below, the search squads had the building surrounded. There was no way out.
“You won’t make it,” Kailes said.
“Yes, all the members of this household are present as we speak...”
“Go!” Kailes said.
I climbed through the window. A single hovercraft rounded the building, just ten meters beneath me. I looked up at Kailes.
“Fight hard,” he said. I nodded and released my grip on the window pane.
I fell the ten meters down, dropping straight into the hovercraft. The trooper jerked in surprise, reaching for his firearm. I knocked him out with a fierce blow to the neck. He slumped over the driver’s seat, hanging half out of the craft.
I stole his helmet and tucked my hair tight beneath the mask. Then I gripped the trooper by the shoulders and tugged him to the passenger’s seat. Taking control, I quickly surveyed the mechanisms of the craft and pressed my hand against the automatic steering pad. The holographic system burst to life.
“Welcome aboard. Please recline in your seat. I must secure you to the vehicle,” it ordered.
Leaning back, two metal belts extended from both sides of the chair and strapped me against the leather seat. “Thank you, please state your destination.”
“Felix sl,” I demanded.
“Would that be autopilot or manual control?”
“Autopilot.”
“Mapping coordinates to Felix sl. Address; Felix sl 1290 Station at your request. G3 is unauthorized to depart as all passengers are not secure within the vehicle. Please see that all passengers are properly restrained to the vehicle.”
I reached over and realigned the trooper against his seat. The steel bands slid over his shoulders, pressing him into the chair.
“Thank you. The distance from your current location to Felix sl is twenty-six miles, a five minute travel by hovercraft. Please enjoy your flight with G3.”
The craft blasted forward, flying swiftly into the night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CRISIS
When G3 arrived, I took manual control of the craft and steered it down an abandoned alleyway. The Pioneer Signal Tower was simple to find. It was less a tower and more of a dome. A giant mass of crystal and beaming floodlights, and to the right of it, was the holding facility. It was hectic, civil order officers and attack drones marching in and out of the building by the second.
Dimming the floodlights, I moved over to the unconscious trooper, indelicately removing him of his clothing. I slid into the thin armored suit then rolled the flaccid soldier into the back seat.
I kept my pace unhurried as I sailed the glittery pathway. Several citizens were hauled into the building. Some of them resisted. I watched as the officers took collars from their belts and locked them around the prisoners’ necks. They screamed at the vicious shock of the chokers, falling limp at the knees. The others could hardly stand. They were completely disoriented and were dragged mercilessly through the prison doors.
I followed close behind, gaining quick entrance into the building. Inside was a glassy maze. Tall magnetic chutes launched up towards the building’s many floors. Security droids roamed the chrome lobby, stopping an officer every so often for an identification scan. The employee would recite his name then flip the cover of his helmet, allowing the droid to briskly scan his eyes. Then the android would thank him for his cooperation and leave the attendant to his duties.
I pursued the newly arrived officers. They suspected nothing as I tailed them down a long twist of halls. They came to a stop suddenly, and I quickly hid behind the adjacent wall. They stood before a sleek, ebony work station where three ARTIKA staff members busily worked the desk.
“We have a prisoner for lock and keep. Preferably an unoccupied cell on the third floor.”
“Of course,” one of the women answered. “Cell 356 is currently available.”
“Make sure to issue a red light to this cell. We want this prisoner interrogated within the following twenty-four hours.”
“Absolutely. Is there anything further I can do for you officers?”
“That will be all. Have a nice night.”
“Likewise,” the woman replied.
When the officers left, I rolled around the corner and casually approached the booth. The lead receptionist glanced up from her work. She smiled, but there was nothing welcoming at all about that bare curve of her lips.
“How can I assist you officer?” she asked.
“Patra Cora Rosada,” I said.
The woman looked confused. “Excuse me?” The low tone of her voice drew the other secretaries to attention.
My arms were already in motion. I drew two p22 pistols from the belt of the suit. The woman shrunk back in a scream. I shot her colleagues without a thought. Their screams rattled the long, empty halls. Blood splattered across the station. The wounds were shallow, a mere chip in the shoulder. They would live.
Several officers trampled onto the scene, and I quickly gunned them down. Then my aim was back on the woman. She jerked in the chair, her face fevered and trembling.
“The next one goes straight through your throat,” I hissed. “Patra Cora Rosada... where is she?”
“I can find her for you just, just hold on,” she stammered. Her fingers dashed across the keyboard with an entirely new resolve. “She’s in cell 266 on the second floor.”
I took the stairs just as the warning sirens began. My legs were a powerhouse of strength and speed as I raced the halls. With each rapid bypass of numbers, the anticipation swelled, burning hot in my chest. Sixty-three. Sixty-four. Sixty-five.
Sixty-Six.
I stopped and stood still before the door. My hands shook. My body cold with fear. I could hardly look it at, let alone muster the courage to open it. I slid the shield from my eyes and saw my reflection warped against the metal.
I leaned in and peered through the slot of glass. There was no one inside. She wasn’t there.
I struck the wall. My fist split deep into the metal. Everything seemed to vanish. A hallow ache dug deep in my chest. There was so much pain. And so much stillness.
And perhaps that was how I heard it. That deep, lyrical patter through all that blaring soundlessness. I heard it. I heard her. The familiar and marvelous drum of her heart. She was ten doors down.
I moved with speed and hurriedly broke through the door. And there she was—my mother. I nearly overlooked her. For she was but a fold of shriveled bone and gauzy skin bent in the bed of the cell. I held the cry in my lungs and hurried over to her.
I drew the strands of hair from her cheeks and angled her head to face me. The thin, crumpled tresses snapped beneath my tender touches. She was horrendously malnourished. Her muscle tight to the bone. Her lips were withered. And the line of her jaw protruded farther than it should. The heavenly glow of her body was gone. It was a sickly gray now, killing the lingering glimmers of her beauty.
I raised her wrist in search of a pulse. There was a delicate throb just under the bruised skin. I raised her from the bed. She shivered a bit against the cold of the wall. Her eyes were closed in sleep, or faintness, I didn’t know which. But somehow I felt that she knew I was there, holding her.
She groaned as I lifted her onto my shoulders. The bone of her hips pressed into my skin. I held tight to her and moved into the hall. A blitz of fire suddenly whizzed from the far of the corridor. I retreated back into the cell and fired the p22. The perfectly aimed shots downed all five guards and they dropped face down to the floor.
I escaped through the north wing, safely returning to the hovercraft. I yanked the unconscious trooper from the craft and secured Mother in the passenger’s seat. As I rushed back around, shots fired from the dark, the second bullet clipping the right side of my neck. I fir
ed the mr2 and the guard ducked back into the darkness.
The craft rocked as I climbed into G3, and taking the controls, I steered the flyer up into the air. The guards fired as I escaped above them.
“G3 is experiencing a hostile attack.”
I took manual control of the craft.
“I advise that you raise the vehicle’s cover guard and activate the protective force field.”
I jammed my palm against the command pad. The craft shot forward. “Would you like to proceed with my request?”
Three hovercrafts dipped over the buildings. They quickly pursued G3, firing recklessly at the rear of the craft.
“Activate!”
A red halo enveloped the craft.
“G3 is under level 1 attack. I recommend mobilization of all available weaponry for defensive onslaught.”
I veered left between two incoming buildings. “Activate!”
“Mobilizing rear and front cc Expelter Cannons. Weapons are now at your disposal.”
Two more flyers joined the chase, blocking my front route. The cc cannons fired and the enemy crafts steered aside. I sped through the forged space, and they followed, flanking G3 on both sides. We spun as a union, metal grinding and spitting up fire. I tried shaking them loose but they had me pinned.
There was a metro ahead. We spun and crashed into the train. The shuttle moaned, tilting right on its wheels. And as I jerked back the controls, I wrangled free of the two flyers. The craft on my left spun wildly and crashed straight through the metal crossing.
The flyer exploded. Glass and steel ripped through the air. G3 rocked in the force of the blast, thrashing wildly until I regained control.
I banked right, trying to shake the final craft.
“Alert! G3 shields have been inactivated due to disruptive damages.”
The flyer jolted right. I rotated G3 and aimed the Blaster cannons at the enemy craft.
“Fire p30!”
An electric blast shot from the cannons. The pointed bolts sliced through the enemy flyer and then it ignited.
I spun back around and several jet copters advanced from the left. Three others approached from above.
“G3, I need to go fast!” I demanded. I glanced at Mother. She was still unconscious, the metal restraints the only force keeping her aligned against the seat.
“Request considered... now mobilizing Grand Speed Turbo Jetters.”
The hovercraft launched forward with violent speed. I gripped the handles of my seat.
“State your destination.”
“Norris Tower.”
“Negative. That would lead you into the Z-Zone. G3 is not authorized to cross into those boundaries.”
“I know!” I coughed all of a sudden and felt a nauseous heat bubble in my throat. I pressed a hand over the wound on my neck. And what I saw there, dripping from the flesh of my hand, was thick and silver and crystalizing fast over my skin.
“If the situation calls for emergency, you may override my central command?”
“Override,” I stuttered. Heat boiled in my chest. I could feel it crawling and sticking hot to my lungs. My body lashed forward. Silver shot from my mouth. It came again and again, fountains of it splatted across the halo-board.
“You are currently suffering from an unknown illness. It is my duty to see to the health of the pilot. May I direct you to the nearest first aid facility?”
“No!”
“You and your passenger will suffer death if not immediately treated.”
I bucked forward in the seat. It felt like something was in me, breaking out of me through my spine.
“How much further?!”
“Twenty seconds until Z-Zone arrival. I must alert you of the incoming threat approaching the vehicle.”
“How far?”
“Sixty five meters exact.”
“And how far from... entering the Z, the Z-Zone till we pass the tower?”
“You intend to exit the city entirely?”
“Yes.”
“Negative. That is not authorized... you are currently experiencing a relapse of respiratory... enemy hostiles have zeroed attack on the vehicle. How do wish to proceed?”
For a moment, there was nothing but blackness. Then there was light again. I felt my heart stop, shake, then burst back to life. I fought it again and again, that ruthless hand of death pulling from the outside in.
There was a sudden explosion at the rear of G3. Smoke rose from the back end and the craft toppled mid-flight, overturning four times before it continued.
A Level B warning flashed across the emergency screen.
“The vehicle’s eg vessels have undergone significant damage and now retain thirty percent efficient energy. Grand Speed disabled. Self-repair is unlikely at this time. I advise...”
“Have we reached the Z-Zone?”
“Yes, thirty seconds until the bypass of Norris Tower...”
The jet copters eased into a rectangular formation, locked in, and fired. I veered left out of range, and again, when the missiles circled back for a second time.
“Fifteen seconds until crossing. But I must warn you. Bypassing Norris Tower is a Class A felony. If captured, you will be killed on sight.”
“I know.”
“Then you wish to proceed?”
“Yes!”
“As you wish... Now approaching Norris Tower.”
Silver shot from my lips.
“You are in dire need of medical assistance.”
“I know!”
A second blast rammed against G3. It spun maniacally, ruthlessly, the belly of the craft scrapping the thick gates of Norris Tower. We descended down a juddering strip of black air. But even so dark and deadly a dive, that formidable falling never felt so free.
We crashed, Mother and I, in a never-ending spin of broken glass and floating silver. Those glittery, star-like beads turned and turned through our twist of blood and steel. The sky turned. There was nothing but smoke. Nothing but the gray. The moan of metal and the heat of fire. And as the quiet settled, and the world grew still, I opened my eyes. It was over.
Everything was a blur as I felt around. A sharp pain pierced my lower waist. I noticed then just how painful my position was. The craft had overturned in the crash and the glass of the halo-board had sliced into my side. All I could see through the gray in my eyes was the bright of my hair, flowing like a flame as I moved.
I saw the mr2 in the rubble and reached to grab it. I tried to look at Mother, but it was difficult to see her from the askew angle of my body.
I stretched a little farther and finally grabbed ahold of the mr2. Shifting to the left, I angled the weapon beneath the halo-board. The metal groaned and I kept on, pushing down on the mr2 until the glass ripped from my side.
I unbound myself, dropping to the ceiling of the craft. I slid through the glass towards Mother. My fingers trembled as they gently touched her neck. I sighed in relief. She was alive.
Suddenly I heard voices coming close.
“You think anyone survived?” a female voiced asked.
“Don’t know,” someone replied.
“I say we set fire to it just in case,” another said.
“You know that goes against the captain’s methods. If we find anyone from the city, we’re supposed to bring them back to base.”
“Yeah, and it’s this merciful way of handling business that’s killing our chances of winning this war,” another argued.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the female huffed. “We found it, and now we have to report it. I’ll...”
I arched forward all of a sudden, spitting up silver.
“Did you hear that? There’s a survivor. Benny, Clyde, Avery, get the right side. See if you guys can flip this thing over.”
I reached up, releasing Mother from the chair. She fell and I caught her. The craft shook as the Defiant rocked it back and forth. Glass rained from the top of the flyer. I ro
lled Mother beneath me to shield her in my arms.
When the craft toppled over, I saw the black of the world through the blur in my eyes. I saw figures standing tall above us in the smoke of the Earth. They were faceless it seemed, but still stared down at us, their weapons aimed at me with Mother half broken in my arms.
“Spa,” I gasped. “Spar-row...”
“What’s she saying?”
I rose from the ground, my legs holding strong. I felt warmth, the heat of Mother’s blood through her clothes. I held her, like an angel, against my chest.
“Sparrow seven... seven... seven.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SION
There is always a moment in life when one questions the existence of a god. We cannot help but wonder. It is our nature, for we cannot understand or fully explain ourselves or the truths of the natural world. We cannot number the galaxies of space or redesign even the most minuscule iota of our bodies. What is explained is never truly understood. There are too many questions. Too much mystery. Even knowledge is left unexplained. All we are. All we know. All that there is and the artwork of our design can never be known. It is a secret. A secret unknown to the flesh. Only the spirit can know. But first, it must give in. It must be naked, tossed deep into the fire, burning alive in the flames of faith.
I have questioned the breath from which that fire first came. Certainly not by rock, or by water, or wind, or sun, or chance. If not by the ancient womb of nature, then who? Who could I reproach with my sufferings? Who would break the shame of my soul and carry my mountain of guilt to the throne of repentance?
“Would you it be you... God?” I whispered. It was an unconscious utter, exhaled into the deafness surrounding me. I rolled over on my side, curling in the sheets. There was a strange scent to them. They smelled like the earth, like summer grass. It was an old and warming fragrance. I remembered suddenly, perhaps too vividly, the lavender essence of Niaysia.
I sat up slowly. My wounds had long healed, all but the sharp ache in my neck. Without halos, the healing was slow and painful. It was different from before. My body had become too reliable on the added dosages, and now my natural ability to heal had staggered. Even if I were to attempt withdrawal, the side effects would be damaging. That’s what I feared most. The Defiant had zero access to halos. They had no need for it.