His eyes grew distant and infinitely sad, locked into a memory of events that had transpired hundreds of years ago, but were still fresh in his mind. “As the tests grew more and more difficult, she started to lose people. First one or two here or there, but then more, and more, until…” He trailed off, his eyes blinking up to meet my eyes, spearing me with a look. “She couldn’t take it anymore. Her simulation ended after only a hundred and thirty days, when she shut off the air-processing units and suffocated everyone in the Tower, rather than let them die a painful death.”
“Scipio help us,” Zoe whispered, her eyes wide. “And Lionel put something like that into the main AI unit?” It was a fair point—I myself could barely believe it. I would’ve assumed that, as a potential AI candidate, she was mentally stable, especially given that part of her coding was intended to be joined with the main AI. This story made me think otherwise.
“You don’t understand,” Leo said earnestly, his hands up and in a placating position. “Each AI, when it failed, was cannibalized for the elements that made it the most successful. In Jasper’s case, he was the most analytical; he could break apart any problem to get to the root of it all. In Rose’s case, it was her empathy that made her invaluable to the process. Even if it was heightened to the point of recklessness, the other fragments kept it in check, just like she kept them in check.”
“What was your thing?” Eric asked, looking at Leo with curiosity.
“Excuse me?” Leo asked, blinking his eyes rapidly. “I’m not sure—”
“Well, you say Rose was empathy and Jasper was analysis. I assume the others also represented something, but your program was used as the base for the Scipio AI. Why? What made you special?”
Leo shifted uncomfortably, smoothing his hands down the sides of his uniform. A part of me wanted to tell him he didn’t have to answer if he didn’t want to; Eric’s question was rude, even if he didn’t realize it. It was like asking why Maddox had survived when Ambrose had died, or at least, I could imagine it being like that. After all, these were AIs, all of which had been tested through rigorous simulations meant to determine which one was best suited to have control over the Tower. Leo had won by lasting the longest, plain and simple, and he didn’t owe us an explanation.
Yet for some inexplicable reason, my mouth refused to move, and I remained quiet, waiting for his answer.
“I suppose you could call it willpower,” Leo said, another faraway look in his eyes. “Possibly determination. I’m not really sure. I just… I couldn’t give up. No matter what happened in that simulation, I… I kept fighting, struggling to keep the Tower moving, the people going. I couldn’t stop, not even when I lost most of the population and ninety percent of the Tower’s functionality.”
I sucked in a deep breath. The part of Leo that had made him outlast every other AI was also rooted deep inside of Scipio, and it suddenly made sense why the great machine kept working, even with his coding as decimated as it was. He was Leo—and that same determination to keep everyone alive was what was holding us together, like a band of iron buried deep inside his coding that refused to bend or be broken.
While a part of me was relieved by this revelation, another part of me wondered how much longer the Leo part of Scipio could hold things together.
I put that question aside for other, more pressing ones—namely our current problem, Rose. I couldn’t allow myself to drift too far off base, so I focused on what Leo had said about her being the root of Scipio’s empathy. If what Tian was saying was true—if she was that Rose—that meant someone had found her somehow, and then put her into the sentinel.
And whoever had done that was now forcing her to kill people. Over and over and over again, in a mindless machine that she didn’t have full autonomy over. I couldn’t imagine a crueler fate for the sensitive creature Leo was describing. It was downright barbaric.
“Why won’t she let us help her?” I asked, turning to Tian. “We could get her out of the sentinel and—”
“She doesn’t trust anyone,” Tian said flatly. “As far as she knows, you are secret agents for the people who are controlling her, coming to take her back and force her to kill all over again. They’ve been trying to find her, Liana, and she is certain they won’t stop until they catch her. What’s more, she knows that she has secret orders implanted inside of her. They are like a ticking timebomb that she isn’t sure she can stop. She keeps telling me that soon I will have to hide from her, just in case. When I beg her to let me bring you to her, she gets angry, and we move again! I’m doing the best I can to keep her from killing people, which is why I have to go back! I’m the only chance you have of helping her. But I was thinking maybe we could set up a trap for those people when they come to get her, and then capture them. I think Jang-Mi might trust you then, and then you can get the bad guys who did this to her.”
I rocked back on my heels and thought about what she was saying. The sentinel was currently on the run from the people who had imprisoned Rose in its body. And they were looking for it. That meant we could set a trap for them—and potentially gain the sentinel’s trust at the same time.
And then I could finally find out who was behind everything that had happened to us. I knew the others weren’t as certain about this as I was, but I was beyond believing that any of this was coincidence. It had to be the same legacy group that Devon was allied with; it just had to be. They would be the only ones (outside of Lacey and Strum) who could possibly know who any of us were, let alone know to target Tian. They had to be the same people who had killed Ambrose, and now they had a weapon in the form of a sentinel at their fingertips, which was beyond dangerous. We needed to know who they were, and that meant using the sentinel somehow. Whether we tracked it down using the signal it emitted and yanked its hard drive, or sprung a trap on those who came to repair it, I really didn’t care. So if Tian thought laying a trap was better, I was willing to give it a shot.
But that also meant Tian had to get back to the sentinel and keep it calm long enough for us to come up with a plan—and execute it. Which was going to be difficult, with the Tourney starting up tomorrow.
“All right, Tian,” I said, giving her a slow nod. “If you think you will be safe with her, then I think it’s okay if you go back to her.”
“What?” Quess exploded, standing up. “No! Liana! She’s just a little girl!”
“I’m not that little, Quess,” Tian snapped defensively. “And you aren’t my father. You can’t tell me what to do!”
“The hell I can’t! Cali would—”
“Have trusted her to do this,” Maddox said, cutting him off, her voice coming out exhausted. I turned my gaze to the tall girl and watched as she got up from the couch and bent down so she could wrap Tian in a warm hug, kissing the top of her white-blond bob. “Be careful?” she breathed.
“I will,” Tian promised, squeezing back.
“Doxy!” Quess said incredulously. “You can’t seriously—”
“We have to, Quess,” she said, shooting a look at him over her shoulder. “This thing… Jang-Mi… She thinks Tian is her daughter, which means if she wakes up and Tian isn’t there, she’ll come looking, and might kill us all in the process. But gauging from the gleam in Liana’s eye, she has an idea on how to move forward, and I’m choosing to trust her, and Tian, rather than give in to my fears. I think you should do the same.”
She let go of Tian and stood up, lumbering to her feet. “Either way, I’m tired, the Tourney begins tomorrow, and Tian will be safe. Besides, if you don’t let her go, she’ll just sneak out again anyway.”
“It’s true, I will,” Tian chirped, her head bobbing up and down.
Quess stared at them both, his expression thunderous. “Fine,” he said angrily. “But if anything happens to you, I swear on Scipio himself, I will pull that sentinel apart limb by limb.”
Tian’s face softened, and she slipped from her chair and ran to him, throwing her arms around him. “I love you, too, you big du
mmy.”
Quess gave a derisive laugh, but snuggled close to her. “Spoiled brat.”
Watching them made me think of my own brother, and suddenly I had the urge to net him. I wanted to share everything that was going on with him, but more importantly, I just wanted to hear his voice, telling me he loved me in a roundabout way.
I shook the feeling off and looked back at Tian, who was slowly pulling away from Quess. “I have to go,” she said nervously. “But I’ll come back and update you real soon!”
We shared a lengthy goodbye then—it took almost ten minutes before we were willing to let her leave—and as soon as it was done, everyone turned and looked at me expectantly. And for once, I wasn’t going to let them down. I had a plan.
I quickly filled them in on my idea of staking out the sentinel with the hopes of catching one of the people that came to repair it, provided Tian could get it to stay still long enough to lure them in. They seemed convinced by it, but had mixed feelings about the fact that we would have to wait until after the Tourney to really set it up.
Because the fact was that we couldn’t do anything until the Tourney was over. We had to focus on doing well there, or else risk death—or worse—at the hands of Lacey or our enemies.
And for us to do well, we had to focus, and figure out what we were going to do with the new teammate we’d be getting tomorrow.
22
Stepping into the arena in the early hours of the morning was like stepping into a dream. It felt weird and disjointed being here, like I had suddenly transitioned from one nightmare into another, and wasn’t entirely sure what horrors this new nightmare had to offer.
Being back in the arena so soon after the sentinel’s attack was hard. My anxiety was partially based on the fact that I couldn’t seem to reconcile that just yesterday, we had been out in the Tower, looking for Tian, fighting the sentinel—and now we were suddenly back in the world of the Tourney, where everything was… less than direct.
At least the sentinel presented a clear target. At least I knew what she was. Here, I couldn’t be certain what or whom to believe, and the juxtaposition left me feeling like my skin was drawn slightly too tight, and my heart was being powered by a mouse running circles in a very rickety wheel.
Not to mention, failure was not an option. Not with Lacey’s threat hanging over our heads. And not with the fate of the Tower hanging in the balance. I couldn’t risk letting anyone else get into the position of Champion, especially with potential legacy agents running around the Tourney. I couldn’t be sure, of course, but I doubted very much that the other legacy family that Devon had been working with would allow anyone other than one of their own into the position.
Which meant that no matter how weird it was to suddenly have to be back in the Tourney, I had to focus. Because anyone here could be an enemy. Even my parents. Even our new teammate—whoever that might be.
The halls under the arena were presided over by ghostly images of Ambrose projected in full holographic glory on the walls, adding a somber cast to the already quiet hall. His eyes followed me, so direct was his gaze toward the camera—and it sent chills down my back as we walked down the halls, heading for the meeting area.
It was early, but I could already hear the distant rumble of noise on the level above, telling me that hundreds of people were beginning to pour in to witness the next challenge unfold on the screens that lined the walls. Everyone was now watching the Tourney with a guarded eye and a heavy heart—waiting and searching for enemies who dared interfere with the sanctity of the Tower.
I followed Maddox as she led us through the halls, passing by security checkpoints that not only involved a net scan, but also a retinal, fingerprint, and DNA screening, as well as a rigorous pat-down (that overlooked Quess’s newly modified bracelet). I probably shouldn’t have risked sneaking it past the officials, but I didn’t want to worry about the sentinel popping up again without having something on me for protection against it. Eventually we stopped at a set of doors, where we went through another very thorough scanning and pat-down before we were permitted inside. And there, we found the other candidates waiting.
The walls glowed with pictures—a large one of Ambrose hung at the far end, on the wall, but the rest were images from the Tourney. A live feed of what was being shown above. I stepped into the room, drawn by the vivid and colorful images, and wound up seeing one of my mother lashing her way through the arches of the Citadel. She moved so fluidly, her motions making it look like she was swimming through the air, rather than flying. She lacked my flair, of course, but I could see some of the grace she had clearly passed on to me, right there in the video.
Watching her, I suddenly realized I still hadn’t heard from her since the confrontation between her and my father. She’d said she would net me, but, come to think of it, she still hadn’t. Suddenly made nervous by her lack of communication, I began scanning the crowd of people, searching for her form, worried. What if the fight between my mother and father had been more severe than I’d thought? What if something had happened to her?
Or worse, what if I had been duped by them, and they were now planning on attacking me in the Tourney?
Then I spotted my mother standing on the other side of the room with my father. And she was next to him, but her body language put them miles apart. I hesitated, uncertain exactly what I had expected to see, and baffled by the standoffishness between them. I wasn’t sure if I should approach her and find out what happened, or give her space and time to process… whatever the hell had happened after I left their apartment.
Suddenly I heard a sharp beep in my ear—the sound notifying me that a new transmission had come in to my pad—and tore my gaze from my mother, eager for any distraction from that particular problem. I pulled the flat screen from my pocket and clicked it on. Noticing the icon for my messages glowing, I tapped it to see a message from the Tourney Committee, announcing the results of the lottery.
I waved a hand to Leo and Maddox, catching their attention and ushering them over. As soon as they were with me, I tapped the View Match option. Frederick Hamilton’s image filled the screen, along with his credentials and public background information. Information that excluded that he was distantly related to Ezekial Pine, the head of one of the first legacy families within the Tower. Lacey’s family had apparently hunted them down and killed them off when they discovered their role in attacking Scipio—but had missed Frederick’s line due to a divorce.
We had no idea whether Frederick knew about his heritage, or was working for another legacy family. But we couldn’t take the chance. If he was working for our enemies, then they wouldn’t hesitate to order him to try to kill me and the others. We would have to use our one veto on him, and take our chances with the second candidate. It was too risky not to.
I opened my mouth to tell my friends, but Maddox reached out and hit the reject button on the pad. The screen began to cycle through pictures of other candidates, selecting the next possible teammate, and I gave her an appraising look while it did so.
She met my gaze and gave me a wry smile. “You were going to do it anyway,” she said, and I nodded, an unexpected smile growing on my lips.
“Fair point,” I replied, dragging my eyes back down to the pad and watching as faces cycled by at rapid speeds. A part of me really hoped that my mother would come up—even though it was impossible, as her team was still intact.
The images finally slowed and then came to a stop, and I blinked at Dylan Chase’s image as it filled the screen, surprise rippling through me.
For a moment, I felt relief. In spite of her rather terrifying speech, I’d found that I kind of liked her. She struck me as confident and caring, if not a little aggressive and misguided. And maybe she’d just played up what she thought her fellow Knights had wanted to hear; every Knight in the Citadel had likely been dreaming of getting vengeance for Ambrose’s death since they had learned of his murder, so why wouldn’t she perform to that?
Th
en dread crept up behind me, reminding me that she wanted to be Champion as well. That she could be an enemy in disguise. Or worse, ignorant, but downright better than me.
There was no second veto, though, so we were stuck with her. Still, it wasn’t all bad. She was a formidable fighter, and smart. I was certain that those traits would be useful to us.
“I can’t believe we have Dylan,” Maddox said, giving me a look. “She’s really good.”
“Yeah, I know,” I replied, not needing her to help out the choir of self-doubt that had started to sing inside me. “But there’s nothing we can do. Let’s just find her and get this over with.”
“She’s found us,” Leo said, and I turned to see Dylan making her way over to us in a liquid gait that exuded confidence and ease. I straightened my shoulders, fixing what I hoped would be a nice smile on my face, and moved over to her. It was best to start on a good foot, rather than a bad one.
“Dylan,” I said when she drew near. “Welcome to the—”
“I already know that you two are supporting Liana,” she said, brushing by and ignoring me completely. Instead, she addressed her comments to Maddox and Leo. “And I understand why—she is formidable. But I think you’ve also seen what I have to offer, and you know what I’m capable of. So I’m here to ask you to reconsider your loyalties, and select me as the new leader of the team.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle as she spoke, confident in the knowledge that there was nothing she could say to convince my teammates to back her. Instead, I took a moment to admire the sheer audacity and confidence of the woman in front of me. She was tenacious, but a straight shooter, and I kind of liked that.
The Girl Who Dared to Think 4: The Girl Who Dared to Rise Page 20