Gen One

by Amy Bartelloni

  “The jetties protect the safe houses,” Gen explained. She climbed up and over the rocks, never slipping, but Delilah suspected her skin was more able to grip the slippery rocks. She might be mostly human, but there was no doubt she had some modifications. Improvements, even. Delilah lost her hold on a rock and regained it before she tumbled into the stream.

  “Why don’t we all move there, then?” Delilah grumbled. She’d never thought of moving. The Authority kept a tight hold on news, and she didn’t even know what else was out there. She’d heard a lot of the country had been destroyed in the war. Most of the country, even, but she was starting to question even that. Maybe there was more out there than she knew. Safe places outside the Authority’s reach, at least for now.

  “The Authority likes to keep control,” Gen responded. She hopped off the last of the rocks and offered Delilah a hand. Delilah’s hand shook when she took it and jumped down, with Brute behind her. He’d been uncharacteristically quiet for the walk, and they had almost arrived. A structure that looked like a warehouse rose in the distance. The sun had risen, and she squinted to see the boxy shape on the sand.

  “It was an old college boathouse,” Gen explained. She walked softly along the sand, a welcome change. Gentle waves came right up to their feet before they retreated back into the sea. “They used it to house a rowing club.” Her voice contained a hint of nostalgia as if she longed for the time when students spent their time rowing. Curious, Delilah thought.

  The other buildings that had formed a quad had burned down or been demolished. Brute picked up a burned piece of timber and threw it in the ocean. It landed far off with a satisfying splash. He made a fist and curled his arm. “Are you sure we’re not walking into a trap?” he asked.

  “You set it up,” Delilah countered, slowing down.

  He gave Gen a look. “She set it up,” he responded. “I put it in motion.”

  Gen looked over her shoulder and gave them a half smile, but she wavered. “You guys are volunteering to be prisoners undercover for Rank. How could I set you up any more than that?” she asked.

  When Delilah slowed near the boathouse, Gen stayed back so Brute could check inside. Gen hesitated before she spoke, tipping her head to the side. “I promise, we will get you out of there,” she told Delilah. “I’ll stay with the boat at the contact point for as long as I can, but if you don’t make it…” They watched Brute circle the boathouse. “I’ll come for you. Somehow.”

  “Gen—” Delilah interrupted, but the bot would have nothing of it.

  “I know they said there would be no more rescues and no more raids. But…” She waited until Delilah met her eyes, the little mechanical machinery spinning behind faded blue irises. “I’m telling you that I’ll come for you. I want you to know that. But…” Gen looked off again and a vague smile pulled at the corners of her lips. “If you make the boat it will be much less complicated.”

  Warmth welled up inside her. A feeling of belonging and being safe, which was bizarre for the circumstances. She reached out and hugged Gen. Gen froze for a moment, then leaned in. Her shoulders heaved, just once, and she wiped a salty tear from her eye.

  Gen pulled back and sniffled. “I will come for you,” she repeated.

  Delilah had a hand on her shoulder. “I know,” she said.

  Brute interrupted them. “I see the boat,” he called out. It was a speck up the coast, but coming quickly.

  Delilah joined him and shaded her eyes. “Looks like another fishing vessel,” she commented.

  Gen grimaced. “Transit boat, actually.” Both stared at her. “It used to channel commuters.” Delilah looked back at the boat, closer now, as color rose in Brute’s cheeks. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen one,” Gen said, miserably.

  “What do you mean, it’s not the first time you’ve seen one?” he asked, slowing his words.

  “Why do you think Rank believed me? I’ve worked for him before,” she said. “Come on, you need to be in the boat house. As far as this captain knows, you think you’re volunteering.”

  “We think?” Delilah said. She backed up.

  “They think you’re regular volunteers.” Gen pushed her forward into the shade of the boathouse where waves splashed up against a dilapidated dock. “And that I’m getting paid to sell you.”

  “Gen.” Delilah came to a full stop. “Have you delivered other people like this?”

  “No.” She pushed Delilah harder. “But I’ve been here. I’ve seen it happen. This plan has been in place for a long time.”

  Delilah looked at Brute, who didn’t seem convinced. “And the best they could find for this plan was us?”

  Brute paused at the entrance to the boathouse, half of him in light and half in shadow. He crossed his arms and kept completely still, almost as still as the bots were capable of being. “You’re invested,” Gen said, simply, “and we’re running out of time and volunteers.”

  “Comforting.” Delilah walked off to the far corner where a dinghy hung next to an old, moldy life jacket. Gen walked outside to meet the boat. Brute finally moved to pace the length of the building.

  “Do you trust her?” he asked. The sound of the boat’s engines echoed into the boathouse and someone called out to Gen.

  “Yes,” Delilah answered, but she had a nagging doubt. “I have to,” she said. She looked at Brute with wide eyes, but he only bit his bottom lip. If somehow Gen were lying, they were screwed. But she knew Gen. She’d seen the bot grow and develop. She’d felt her emotions. She wasn’t lying, but the possibility she was hiding something was concerning.

  “Come out,” Gen called in. Brute frowned, but there was nothing left to say. They couldn’t run, and if they did, what would happen to Zane? The only way forward was through, and this was the only way through.

  “You’ve got this, Dee,” Brute told her on the way by. A few people at camp had called her the nickname Zane used, and it reminded her of him every time. Dee had become her nickname, or her battle name, as Brute called it. Not much, as far as monikers. It fit though. She couldn’t be anyone else.

  She bumped his shoulder before he reached the door. “You too, Luke,” she teased.

  He put a finger to his lips. “Shh,” he said, referring to his name. She wasn’t even sure Rank knew Brute’s real name. It was the only way to hide those parts of himself he didn’t want to share, but he’d shared it with her. That meant something.

  The transit boat was larger than Delilah thought, wide enough for three of her apartments to fit on, with an upstairs deck and an enclosed bottom level. A few people milled around the deck. Prisoners, or volunteers, she assumed. She counted ten, but that wasn’t what took her attention. The captain had docked and climbed off the boat to meet Gen. They were talking on the pier. The sun was too bright to make out features, but something about the man’s stance on the dock was familiar. The way he held his shoulders back. A tip of his chin. The long, red hair and beard.

  “Shit,” Brute muttered.

  Rank turned and gave them both a half wave. Delilah faltered but kept up her forward momentum. After all, there was nowhere else for her to go. It was time to put on an act. If the audience was different, she just had to adjust her tactics.

  “Stay calm and let me do the talking,” Brute said, under his breath. They stepped on the pier. Delilah was coming to hate piers, but then again, it was the only place they were safe from the new bots. She wavered until she got her footing.

  “I can handle him,” she said back, even though she wasn’t entirely sure.

  Delilah had run-ins with Rank, though thankfully they were few and far between, and usually when Zane was getting in trouble or looking for a job. He was one of Rank’s favorites, which was the reason why they had minimum punishments. Rank had protected Zane from the Authority, and always seemed to be finding odd jobs for him, ones with minimal danger or law breaking. Simil
ar to Brute’s jobs, she supposed. Zane wasn’t as built, but he was smart and stealthy, and he could blend in. As far as Delilah knew, Zane always said no, but lately she’d begun to question everything.

  “Here are my new prisoners,” Rank said as they approached on the pier. His tone was almost affectionate and completely inappropriate to the situation. He held a hand out to shake Brute’s, and Brute knocked it away.

  “We’re here on a job.” Brute jumped from the pier to the boat. “Let’s get moving.”

  The smile on Rank’s face faltered just a bit, showing a hint of a darker side beneath. He had a terrible reputation, but every time Delilah had seen him, he’d had that good-humored look.

  “You don’t want to ask me about the others on the boat, first?” Rank teased. He smoothed out his long, red beard, and winked at Delilah.

  “I’ll bite,” she said. She should have been scared of him, but at this point, she just wanted to get moving. “Who are the others on the boat?” She shifted her gaze to the transit ship. She couldn’t see the people upstairs, but she’d guessed there were four or five. But when she changed her attention to the inside of the boat, she did a double take.

  The inside of the boat was wide and open. It was lined with benches, but a table had been bolted in the middle. There were ten or so people inside. She hadn’t bothered to give them a once over because she assumed they were prisoners, like her, or slaves, or volunteers. Gen said it happened often, and Delilah assumed this was just another voyage they would blend in. But this crew was different.

  “Notice anything?” Rank asked. Delilah stepped gently on the boat. She assumed Rank and Gen followed her. Brute had stopped in the doorway.

  “What is this?” he asked. Various weaponry lay on the table, and the crew was cleaning them, strapping them on, hiding them in bags or on themselves. The woman closest to Delilah gave her a salute. Delilah checked out their gear. The guns were antique, possibly even under the scanner’s radar.

  Rank walked in behind her. She had to squeeze to let him go by. He picked up the closest weapon, a hand pistol, lifted it, and aimed it out the window before putting it down. “Messy. Imprecise. But the Authority can’t mess with them like they can with the signal on a laser. A well-placed shot can take a bot out, even.”

  The woman clicked a round of ammo into a large rifle. “And we know where to aim,” she added confidently.

  Rank nodded. “I’ve been training them,” he agreed.

  Brute turned around in a circle. “What is this?” he asked, the volume in his voice rising. He rounded on Gen. “Why didn’t we know about it? And how are you going to get these people inside? This wasn’t part of the plan!”

  The corners of Gen’s lips turned down, and the circuitry behind her irises whirred. “I didn’t know about it, either,” she admitted. She looked at Rank, managing to express hope and distrust at the same time.

  “No one knew about it,” Rank admitted. He turned to the people inside. “You’re dismissed. Pack your weapons and be ready. Watch the lot upstairs.”

  The crew saluted him as if he were the head of an army and had their gear packed faster than Delilah thought possible. Delilah walked around the table, and the woman who’d spoken earlier stopped to put a hand on her shoulder. She was older, tough, and battle worn, with a scar from her eye down to her lip, which curled it upward. “We’ll have your back,” the woman told her. Delilah nodded because she didn’t know what else to do. They left by the back and turned to go up the ladder stairs. Their footsteps echoed on the ceiling.

  Delilah looked out over the ocean, which was deceptively calm though puffy white clouds billowed in the distance, and far away, the spires of Authority City cut across the horizon. She turned back to the others. “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I’d like to know that, as well.” Gen crossed her arms.

  Rank’s smile fell. “I assumed I was meeting your General Smoke. She knew about this plan.”

  Delilah looked at Gen, who shuffled her feet. “She was held up, but she mentioned to trust the captain,” she admitted. “She knew it was you?”

  Rank agreed. “She knew I was training them. For this.”

  Brute sniffed. “Some back up,” he said.

  Rank pinned him down with a look. “This is not all our numbers, but these are my best, so you might want to show some appreciation. I was saving them for the right mission.”

  Something didn’t sit right with Delilah. “Why is this the right mission?” she asked.

  Rank looked away. “I have my reasons,” he answered, wringing his hands.

  “Never mind that,” Brute said. He pushed himself off the table where he’d been leaning. “How are you planning to get them in there with all that firepower? Dee and I have nothing. They’ll strip them down as soon as we arrive.” He punched his hand into his fist. “This is stupid. We should have talked about it.”

  Rank continued in a soft voice. Softer than Delilah thought he was capable. “They are not going in with you. They’re going in before you, and their mission is to keep an eye on you and keep you safe, then get you the hell out of there. Gen and I will circle back, and the plan is to meet up.”

  Delilah interrupted. “How are they going to do that when we don’t even have the layout of the city?” she asked. The idea of having someone look out for them was great, but what if they got caught?

  “These soldiers are the best at blending in. They’re using the best intel we have and spreading out. If one is caught, the others fan out. They won’t rat on each other. I know that.”

  It wasn’t what Delilah was worried about, but if one of Rank’s men was caught and told the Authority Delilah and Brute were plants—well, that wouldn’t end well. Rank’s men weren’t known to be rats, though. Quite the opposite. Thinking of the scar on the woman’s cheek, she knew they’d go through a lot and still stay loyal. Rank bred loyalty. That much was fact.

  Brute’s shoulders relaxed, but only slightly. “So we’re dropping them first?”

  Rank smiled. “In a way,” he responded. “We’re coming up the coast of Authority City. It will give us a chance to map the coast, and they’ll dive in about a mile out.”

  “They’re swimming?” Delilah asked. Gen shivered. The bot wasn’t as afraid of water as some of her counterparts. Water mostly affected their connection, of which she had none, but she wouldn’t be swimming, either.

  “They’re strong, Delilah,” Rank answered, back to his signature baritone. “They can do it, and double that, if they had to.”

  “What about the weapons?” She raised an eyebrow.

  “Their packs are waterproof,” he answered. “And many of the weapons will fire anyway. We have all the contingencies covered.”

  There was a beat of silence inside the boat. Delilah studied Brute and Gen’s face, both nervous and noncommittal.

  Rank broke the silence. “I can leave them here, if you prefer. The others upstairs are ours, too. They’re volunteering, as you are. Going in unarmed, just like you. Strong. Stubborn. And loyal to a fault. It can only help you to have them with you, but if you don’t trust them…”

  He let the sentence hang. If they didn’t trust them, they went in alone, to a foreign, unknown city ruled by bots. If Delilah had to put her trust in someone, she’d pick Rank over the bots, but just barely.

  “Why now?” she repeated. The sun was high in the sky, and she was eager to get going, but she needed to be sure.

  Rank looked away again. “The time was right,” he said.

  “It’s personal?” she guessed.

  He looked back at her. The look of joviality disappeared from his face, but so did the mask. The pain he hid was startling. “It’s personal,” he confirmed. “I have…a connection…to one of the prisoners, and I would very much like to see him freed.”

  “Zane,” she breathed. Suddenly, all the
times Rank had helped them made sense. She didn’t know the connection, what it was or how it came about, but it was strong. Rank only nodded.

  “Okay.” She took in a breath. She wasn’t sure how she’d come to be the leader of their little three, but it was her decision to make, and she made it. Smoke had left her with something, some degree of power, but more than that, confidence. Rank had a shifty reputation, but she trusted her instincts. Rank was trying to do the right thing, and his men were the best. Whatever this connection was with Zane, she’d ferret it out later. Right now she could only use it.

  The billowy clouds arrived with a wind squall, and blocked out the sun, making it only marginally cooler. Brute and Gen reluctantly added their acceptance. Brute pulled her aside to ask if she was sure, and she had no hesitation when she said yes. She couldn’t hesitate. She couldn’t look back. They were walking into the lion’s den, sailing, really, because that’s where Zane was, but it was more than that. They needed to find out just what was going on in Authority City, what the bots’ plans were, and just how bad it was for the humans.

  Then, they could destroy it.

  The journey to Authority City took longer than it should have, because they traveled the long way in order to drop the soldiers off. They weren’t mercenaries, Rank explained in the small bridge on the boat’s upper level. He kept one hand on the wheel, and an eye on the other electronics. Delilah might have known a little about boats, but all the dials and gauges were foreign to her. She’d never be able to pilot this.

  “Mercenaries are paid,” Rank explained, turning the wheel slightly to the left to bring them closer to the shores of Authority City so Gen could map it out. The others had gone down to repack their weapons. They were nervous, but they hid it well.

  Rank parked himself on a stool, consulting maps and navigation equipment while keeping the boat steady. “I pay them a livable wage, when I can.” He adjusted course. “Why do you think I run the Banks so efficiently?”