Shatter City

by Scott Westerfeld

I sit up painfully, staring into the darkness, knife in hand. My ears are ringing, my night-vision implants still sparking from the gunfire.

  My fingers reach for a chord of Painless and Steadfast.

  Deeper in the tunnel—something’s moving.

  The mountain isn’t done with us.

  Zura’s trying to scramble underneath the blast door, but none of the Specials are going to fit through.

  “Drag him out,” I say to Col. “Quick.”

  He stares at me, frozen for a moment, then grabs his brother under the arms. The concrete rasps as Teo’s armor slides across it.

  I sheathe my knife and pick up Col’s rifle.

  The two Specials reach in, pulling Teo through the opening, and Col follows. I hear armor clattering to the ground outside, the hiss of compression bandages.

  I back slowly toward the blast door, keeping the rifle leveled. The noises from the tunnel are growing louder, closer.

  But I am Steadfast, staring into the darkness. If only I had a light.

  Of course, there’s one way to see what’s coming—

  I open fire, letting the rifle’s muzzle flash ignite the dark.

  Metal forms shudder into being in the bursts of light—a dozen more of the shambling, ancient robots dance as my bullets hit. Backing them up are a pair of larger drones on six legs each, like giant metal crabs.

  I stumble backward, firing all the way, then roll beneath the door.

  “There’s more!” I shout at Zura, dropping the empty rifle. “Including two big ones. We have to shut this entrance!”

  She doesn’t look up from Teo. He’s on the ground, the Vics gathered around him. His uniform is bloody, torn open to show a compression bandage beneath his ribs.

  His breathing sounds like a drain trying to clear.

  Col looks up at me, eyes glazed. “His lungs …”

  “My board’s almost here with the medkit, sir,” Veron says.

  “We need all the boards now!” I cry. “We’re going to have to fly—unless we can shut this door.”

  Zura looks up at the giant steel plate, the piles of rocks around us. “Not without causing an avalanche.”

  A long, rattling breath passes Teo’s lips.

  “Stay with me,” Col whispers at his side.

  Zura kneels at the gap, peering into the darkness. A burst of gunfire echoes from inside, forcing her back.

  “Fifty meters and closing,” she says. “Can we move him yet?”

  “Not till he’s stable,” Veron says. “It’s a tension pneumothorax—air building up in his chest cavity. Every time he breathes, the pressure crushes his lungs a little more.”

  Col stares at the Special’s cruel pretty face. “What do we do about it?”

  “We let the air out, sir. Once I get my—”

  The riderless boards come sliding in at head level. Veron grabs a medkit from his. He zips it open and pulls out a tube from a sterile pack.

  The thing writhes in his hand—smart metal.

  “Angiocatheter,” he says to it. “Sixteen gauge.”

  It takes solid form, thin as a stiletto.

  I recall my first aid classes, practicing this on a dummy in case Rafi was ever shot in the chest.

  It gave me nightmares every time.

  Veron douses Teo’s side with medspray, just beneath his armpit. Clutching the tube like a knife, he slips it in between the ribs.

  Even with the Steadfast lighting up my veins, I have to turn away.

  I take Col’s hand. He gasps beside me.

  There’s a liquid, hissing sound, like wet air escaping under pressure.

  “Can we move him now?” Zura calls. She has a snake camera wrapped beneath the door. “They’re almost here!”

  “He needs a minute to stabilize,” Veron says.

  Col looks at me, his eyes wide. “Help.”

  I reach for Calm, and it collides with my battle frenzy, my Steadfast.

  Everything slows down.

  “It’s going to be okay,” I say to Col, searching the boards still hovering there …

  My eyes fall on a splinter mine. Powerful enough to destroy the smaller drones, and the big ones can’t fit through.

  Unless they use those cannons to blow their way out—and bring the mountainside down on us.

  “Get clear,” I yell, twisting the mine’s timer to three seconds.

  I slide it through the gap.

  We cover Teo with our bodies.

  A moment later, a sovereign boom echoes through the mountain. The massive door shudders, and smoke geysers through the gap beneath, swirling around us.

  For a moment, I can’t see or breathe. The explosion rings in my ears.

  I try to wave away the smoke, blinking dust from my eyes, coughing. The rocks piled beside the opening are peppered with splinter darts from the mine. I hear the squeal of shredded gears from inside the tunnel.

  My hands find Col beside me. “Is he okay?”

  His voice is ragged. “Still breathing.”

  Boss Zachary’s voice crackles in our comms.

  “Freeze right where you are, everyone. Seismics are picking up something.”

  “Rafia here, with the Vics,” I say, still coughing. “That was us. We took fire—had to return.”

  “This is bigger than gunfire. It’s all over the place. The whole damn mountain’s waking up.”

  “Um, yeah,” I say as the smoke begins to clear. “That was definitely us.”

  “Can we move him now?” Col shouts, tears streaking his face.

  “Yes, sir!” Veron yells through the smoke.

  I spot Teo’s board among the others and pull it to the ground. We line it up beside him and each take a limb.

  “One, two …” Veron barks.

  On three, we shift Teo over. He lets out a groan, but his breathing seems better now. Still pained, but without that awful gurgling sound.

  I try not to look at the bubbling needle sticking from his side.

  Veron kneels on his own board. “I’ll tandem with him.”

  “I’ll take the other side,” Col says, locking Teo’s crash bracelets in place. “You two cover us.”

  I grab my own board, hoist myself up and on.

  Boss Zachary is in our comms again.

  “Okay, rebels, I’m calling this a straight-up fiasco.

  “Everyone pull out, now!”

  “Way ahead of you,” Zura mutters.

  From behind us comes a grinding sound—the blast door shuddering in its frame. Some ancient mechanism is trying to open it.

  It moves half a meter higher, then jams.

  Two metal claws reach out and grip the bottom of the door, heaving at the tons of steel—another pair joins them. The big six-legged drones are still working, and trying to kill us.

  I draw my knife.

  “Quarter speed!” Zura shouts, and eases ahead on her board.

  Col and Vernon follow, flanking Teo. I bring up the rear.

  As we slip down the mountainside, a metal shrieking comes from behind us. The broken blast door is slowly rising, lifted by the two crab-shaped drones.

  When they emerge into the sunlight, I get my first good look at their weapons.

  Not cannons—flamethrowers. A terrifying Rusty weapon, designed for fighting in caves and tunnels.

  “Faster!” I shout.

  The Iron Mountain isn’t going to let us leave in peace.

  In my comms, dozens of rebels are shouting about the ancient defenses waking up. That splinter mine has triggered an all-out alert.

  I wonder how long before the mountain goes back to sleep again.

  Weeks? Months?

  Or maybe it never sleeps.

  “Hold up!” Zura shouts from ahead, skidding to a halt.

  In front of her, the rocks at the edge of the trees are writhing.

  “Smart matter,” she says. “That isn’t Rusty tech.”

  “We can’t stop!” I cry, pointing at the flamethrower drones scuttling toward us down
the slope.

  Zura accelerates again, leading us sideways, skirting the boundary between bare mountainside and forest. But there’s no gap in the swath of moving rocks.

  Maybe we should risk crossing them. The Paz AI didn’t seem particularly bloodthirsty. The rocks might just be to scare off rebels and non-tech tribes …

  But then I see it—a haze springing into the air. The rocks are shedding some kind of nanos, like a thick surveillance dust. A shimmering wall rises before us, as high as I can see.

  Zura waves us back up the slope, away from the haze—but the flamethrower drones are still there. We head sideways again, putting more distance between us and them.

  I flinch with every swerve we take, wondering what these accelerations are doing to the fluid in Teo’s chest.

  Gunshots erupt ahead of us—another squad of rebel scouts, also trapped on the mountain. They’re laying down fire through the haze.

  The shots pass uselessly through. One of the rebels pushes forward into the shimmering wall, testing it.

  Zura waves us to a halt.

  I raise my field glasses to watch.

  The rebel holds out some kind of handscreen before her, taking readings as she goes. Her bright tin jewelry flashes in the high sun, and she has a low-tech bow across her back, a quiver full of arrows with real feathers.

  Nothing happens at first, the haze enveloping the rebel and her board. Then she looks up from her handscreen, swats at herself like she’s being stung.

  Her hoverboard starts to shudder in the air. Its surface is changing color, turning orangey-brown, as if rust is spreading through it.

  Then everything starts to seethe—her crash bracelets, the handscreen, the field pack strapped to her board. All of it changes to the same rust color, pieces flaking away as I watch.

  Her board tips, the front-end magnetics failing. It slips forward through the air, on an invisible ramp. She hits the ground hard, spilling off onto the rocks. The board shatters on impact, breaking into pieces that crumble like ash in the breeze.

  I almost look away, expecting the haze to keep eating …

  But the girl stands up, holding an injured elbow. Her hands are empty, everything gone except her fur and leather clothing. Even her metal jewelry has crumbled away.

  The bow and arrows are still there, but the shiny arrowheads are gone.

  “Organics,” I say. “That’s all it leaves behind.”

  The Paz AI might have been too civilized to kill anyone, but it set a trap that costs an intruder everything—a stern warning not to come again.

  The other rebel scouts stare helplessly at their companion. No hoverboard, hardly any equipment left. Out here in the wild, that’s a deadly loss.

  “We can’t go through, sir,” Veron says. “Your brother …”

  We all look at Teo.

  The tube that’s keeping him alive is made of smart metal. The haze would crumble it into dust.

  “We have sounding charges,” Col says. “Maybe we could blow a hole and fly through before it closes.”

  Zura shakes her head. “One speck of that stuff …”

  I look back at the crab drones. They’re still coming, scrambling at us along the slope.

  “What if we had flamethrowers?” I say.

  “How, exactly?” Zura asks.

  I reach for more Focus, making myself think it through carefully. Flamethrowers aren’t a long-range weapon. The crab drones are at least a minute from being close enough to hit us.

  These follow the usual design. Two tanks of fuel—one propellant, the other flammable.

  I imagine all that fuel mixing and igniting. Sheets of fire flinging out in all directions.

  “We lead the drones into the haze,” I say. “Let the nanos do the rest.”

  “Lead them?” Zura says. “We can barely take a sharp turn with Teo.”

  “I’ll do it. You three wait for the hole to open up.”

  Col shakes his head. “Frey. You’re not even wearing body—”

  “Teo got himself shot protecting me.” I swing my board around to face the six-legged drones. “It’s okay, Col. I promise not to die.”

  I zoom away, not waiting for an answer.

  More Steadfast.

  The two drones spot me headed toward them and rear back on their hind legs, like startled scorpions. The igniters spark to life in the maw of their weapons, two burning eyes staring at me.

  I veer away, keeping my distance from the drones so they don’t waste any fuel on me. And so I don’t get cooked alive.

  My pulse knife buzzes in my hand.

  One of the drones opens fire, flame geysering out across the mountainside. It falls short of me, a hundred burning droplets scattered on the stone. I feel the heat of it even in the noonday sun.

  The drones are charging down the slope, almost within range …

  That’s when the problem with my plan becomes clear.

  For them to follow me into the nanos, I have to go into the nanos.

  Zura and the others are upslope, ready to fly down through any opening. They’re probably wondering what I’m going to do next.

  Me too.

  The other crab drone fires—another jet of flame that falls short. Why are they wasting their fuel at this range?

  Then I feel the knife pulsing in my hand. And remember the way the robot in the tunnel keyed on it.

  Of course—the mountain’s drones are designed for fighting in pitch-blackness. They don’t use visible light at all. But they can sense the buzzing energies of my knife.

  “Sorry, X.”

  I squeeze the knife to full pulse and hurl it at the wall of haze.

  As it roars away, I fly parallel to the haze, crouched low on my board. The flamethrower drones ignore me, following the knife.

  Just before they plunge into the glimmering wall, they let off twin volleys of flame, burning away the nanos. For a moment, it looks like they’ll make it through.

  But the haze roils around them, spun into a vortex by the heat of the flames. Patches of rust appear on the drones’ metal legs.

  For a moment, they stagger on the rocky boundary, squealing as servos and gears are eaten away. Then the rust spreads to the fuel tanks on their backs …

  Pressurized gas gushes out in all directions. A smell like the oil lamps at my father’s hunting lodge fills the air.

  But there’s no explosion.

  The drones’ igniters must have failed before the tanks fell apart—there’s nothing to spark the fumes.

  A streak comes from the Vics behind me, a single incendiary round. It hits the billowing cloud of fuel.

  Suddenly the world is on fire.

  A scalding wave of heat hits, throwing me backward from my board onto stony ground. Flames pass over me in sheets. My lungs are scalded, my eyes forced shut. The sky turns red.

  For a moment, I can’t breathe. Then the heat passes, and I suck in the smell of singed hair and burned leather. There’s a taste in my mouth like kerosene.

  A shadow blots out the sun, and Col’s voice fights through the ringing in my head.

  “Frey! Come on!”

  I stand on wobbly legs, staring at the dark mushroom cloud rising before me. The explosion has carved a huge hole in the wall of haze, clear of the nanos.

  Col and the others are waiting for me.

  “Just go!” I yell, clambering back onto my board, still dizzy from the blast. I lean forward on my knees, until the ground is rushing past me.

  I reach for Painless, push hard.

  Then I see it on my armored glove—the tiniest patch of rust.

  And it’s spreading.

  I pull off that glove, then the other, and fling them aside.

  But there are tiny colonies of rust on my field glasses. On my medspray bottle, my handscreen …

  My hoverboard.

  I skid to a halt, staring at the spreading rust, not knowing what to do.

  I haven’t even crossed the rocks yet—the blast must have thrown a
wave of nanos at me. I can only hope the Vics were far enough away.

  “Frey!” comes Col’s voice in my comms. “We’re through. Where are you?”

  He sounds crackly, barely audible.

  The nanos are in my ears, eating away the comm implants.

  “Go on,” I say, not sure if he can hear. “Get Teo home.”

  No answer.

  The board starts to waver beneath me. I barely have time to step off onto the rocks before it breaks up, cracking along a dozen fissures of rust. The metal buckles of my jacket fall away one by one.

  The crew badge I took from the dead rebel is the last thing to crumble.

  There’s nothing left but my leather clothes and boots.

  Staring down at myself, something washes over me—a wild and sudden happiness. Like all I’ve ever wanted was to lose everything, to have it all burned away. To stand here in the wild, shorn of all my city tech.

  Alone and unencumbered. Ecstatic somehow.

  That doesn’t make sense. Why am I feeling …

  Rapture, mixed with Belong, and a dozen other emotions piling on.

  I look down at my feels.

  The rows of little faces are turning to rust.

  All my feels hit at once.

  Waves of Sadness, waves of Joy.

  Grief in smothering black clouds, shot through with electric streaks of Anger.

  A battering rain of Philosophical and Elucidation, my head crowded with rants and realizations, unstuck memories rattling loose.

  Like the flamethrowers’ fuel tanks, the little canisters of hormones in my wrist are breaking apart, spilling three dozen emotions into my blood. My feels are mingling, igniting, exploding across my heart.

  My muscles flinch, my stomach twists and shudders. Cold sweat and hot tears, a broken laughter racking my chest. Every wire of nervous tissue sings and screams beneath my skin, a fathomless, Painless agony.

  It’s everything I’ve ever felt before, a thousand strange new emotions that mix and burn and flail inside me. My brain tries to protect itself, to spin away into the dark, but Vigilance and Focus force my awareness of every detail.

  The moment is Relentless—and endless.

  And ends all at once, a door slamming on a loud, wild party.

  Suddenly I’m standing on a flame-scorched mountainside, staring at rusted faces on my wrist, feeling nothing but empty and confused.