by A. L. Davroe
“My unit was the one to go into Bella Adona,” Clairen says. “I saw Zane and Kat, surrounded by attacking androids.” She shrugs. “Something just snapped.”
Zane grins. “She was a thing of beauty, like an avenging angel. Saved our asses.”
“Our?” Quentin repeats. “You mean Mom?”
“Yeah.”
As if his legs are suddenly unstable, Quentin takes a step backward, grasps at one of the support poles, and plops down on a crate.
Zane says, “She’s out with Mac. She’s mental about the main power going down in the dome, so she demanded to be taken in and shown. They had to take half the rebels to keep her safe.”
I look up from a very stunned Quentin. “You mentioned something about the gates blowing open?”
“Oh yeah,” Clairen says, “Wide open.”
My stomach sinks. “So, the androids are in Kairos?”
“No.”
“No?”
“From what we can tell, the androids and droids alike are all dead,” Zane says. “Like the city.”
“So, it’s as I feared.” Not only is dome security down, the whole thing has shut down. But how? And why? “And the Disfavored?” I urge.
Clairen says, “They’re moving into Evanescence.”
“A mass exodus to safety,” Zane adds. “Now that the net is down, their only hope is the dome.”
“But the dome won’t save them. They have to know that. The habitat systems won’t work if the main power is down. The repair bots have already fallen from the frame.”
Zane crosses his arms and lets out a long, low breath. “Eventually they’ll realize that if we can’t get the power going. But for now, they’re simply celebrating the gates of paradise being opened for them. They’re parading around in expensive clothes, eating like kings, and sleeping in comfortable beds for the first time in their lives. They’re choosing to see only hope for the future. It’s a new feeling for most of them.”
“Well,” I breathe. “At least they’re safe for now.”
“Yeah,” Quentin agrees. “But we’ve got bigger, more immediate fish to fry.” He turns to Clairen. “We need your help.”
She blinks, confused. “My help?”
Quentin runs his hand through his hair, grasps the back of his neck. “All of your help, really.” He glances at me, as if looking for reassurance. He’s been so sure of himself, so in charge until this moment. It’s clear he feels he needs to step down and hand the power to someone else. I wonder if he even wants it at all or if half of his relief at finding out his mother is alive is the new knowledge that the Aristocrats who’ve been relying on him are now someone else’s responsibility. “We need food.”
Straightening, Clairen steps forward. “Of course, you must be starving.”
“No,” I say. “Not for us. We need supplies. Enough food to get us and at least thirty other people to Cadence.”
Clairen’s brows scrunch.
“I see.” Zane rubs his chin. “So, there are others who survived, then.”
“Of course others survived. You’re the one that helped load that aerovator.” Quentin puts his fist on his hip. “Or did you forget that part?”
Zane shakes his head. “I didn’t forget. I just didn’t hold out much hope. So, everyone made it?”
Nodding, Quentin says, “Most of my Dolls, Gus, Violet, some other Aristocrats.”
“Bastian? Sadie? Angelique?”
“Them, too.”
“Good.”
“Angelique?” I ask, wondering what she has to do with Zane. To my knowledge, she’s just one of Carsai’s cronies.
“She’s my assistant,” Zane explains. “Very gifted, sees things no one else does. She’ll make a wonderful Anchor when I’m done training her.”
“Oh.”
Impatient, Quentin says, “So, will you help us?”
“What happened to the supplies we planted in the tunnel?” Zane asks.
“It’s gone.”
“What? How can that be? No one knew about that stash but us.”
Quentin shrugs. “Someone must have found it. There are ways into that tunnel from out here. That’s how we ended up here.”
“We know all about the tunnels,” Clairen says. “We use them as bolt-holes when the cannibals come.”
“So, your people took the supplies?” I ask.
“Of course not.” She seems offended I’d even suggest it. “None of us even knew it was there.”
“Well someone did,” I push.
“All of the Disfavored know about the tunnels,” she explains. “They’re how we live. Sand storms, cannibals, late shipments of water from the dome. All that forces us down. Anyone could have taken those supplies if they happened upon them.”
There’s an awkward moment when I’m trying to decide if I should apologize for being suspicious of Clairen and her people, then Zane breaks it. “Where are they now?”
“We left them back in the caves,” I explain. “Where there’s a big underground pool, so they could at least have water.”
Clairen says, “It’s not safe down there.”
“What do you propose?” Quentin asks. “Bring them up here so they can get strung up by Disfavored?”
“The Disfavored go down there, too.”
“No place is safe,” Quentin mutters. “We’re trying to get them to safety. We need supplies to do that and once we have it, we’ll be out of your wiring for good. You can have Evanescence for all we care. Just help them get to safety.”
I open my mouth, ready to argue that Evanescence is our home and I can’t get it back for the people I’ve hurt if he willingly hands it over, but I close it again. I have two groups of people to worry about now. The Aristocrats who I have displaced and the Disfavored who I’ve handed a death sentence to by somehow powering down the city entirely. There are a lot more Disfavored, and they need Evanescence more than the Aristocrats do.
Clairen stares at Quentin for a long moment, then looks to Zane, then me. She seems to be looking for some way out of a situation there is no escaping. Finally, she says, “I’d like to say yes to you, Quentin, I really would. But our resources are incredibly tight, and I don’t make those kinds of decisions.”
Quentin throws up his hands. “You have the entire city of Evanescence at your disposal. Enough food and water to supply ten times the number of people moving in from Kairos.”
“There’s potential for that, yes,” Clairen says, voice even. “But we’re out here and the other Disfavored are already in there, if you haven’t noticed. We’d have to go in and try to find something that hasn’t already been claimed. It’s not like we’re in a position to just walk in and demand people start handing us things.”
“Aren’t you?” I ask. “I mean, you’re their resistance, aren’t you?”
“We’re a small group and we pretty much operate on our own. We don’t represent the whole of Kairos, nor would they want us to. Most of us are Unmentionables. We’re outcasts among the Disfavored and they’re loath to even look at us much less carve out a space for us in their new utopia.”
“So why did you help them at all?”
“Besides the fact that the system between the dome and Kairos was just fundamentally wrong?” Clairen looks down. “Because if things had worked out the way we had planned, then we would have had a proper spot.”
“So why not make that spot now?” I ask. “Why not step forward and pretend you are the ones who gave them the dome?”
“Because the rebels are nothing and nobody to them. If there’s anyone the Disfavored would listen to, it’s you.” Zane points at me.
“Me? Why?”
“Because you’re Ellani Drexel. Their savior.”
Confused, I look back and forth between them, then the man named Faulk and the other guard standing there with him. They both nod, as if this will answer something.
Clairen says, “Your father is a hero to the Disfavored. For bringing the game. And you’re a hero, too, fo
r bringing the virus.”
Mouth open, I stare at her for a long moment. “I-but… How?”
Zane says, “Let’s just say it was very well known that you’d plant that virus. It was just a matter of when.” He holds his hand out toward the direction of the dome. “And when the gates of Evanescence blew wide open? They had their obvious proof. To the Disfavored, you are an avenging angel come down to smite the Aristocrats.”
My stomach suddenly feels sour, and I plop down beside Quentin on the crate. A fine pair we must make.
“Well,” I say, because words aren’t really working for me. How surreal that I had no idea what I was doing, even as I did it, and all the Disfavored knew and waited, with baited breath, for me to do it.
How cruel. How sick. But it’s done, and I can’t do anything to bring the dead back. Only keep those who lived alive. Disfavored and Aristocrat alike. “If I have that power, then I’ll have to ask them to help us.”
“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” Zane wonders. “You’d have to give them an extremely good reason to provide aid to the Aristocrats.”
Quentin says, “Couldn’t we appeal to basic human decency?”
Clairen shakes her head. “There’s a point when humans become inhuman. You should have seen it,” she says, voice low. “All those bodies, bloodied and beaten from the droids. The Disfavored paraded over them, strung them up, did even worse things. If any Aristocrats lived after those bots went down, I doubt they still do. There’s a lot of hate for Aristocrats among the Disfavored. It terrifies me.”
Taking a deep breath, I hold it. To prevent myself from screaming, to prevent myself from crying, to prevent a lot of things. Is this what the Tricksters really wanted? All of the Aristocrats to die? To turn innocent androids like Meems into killing machines and then destroy them, too? Did they mean for the Disfavored to take over the city? Why? What’s the point of so much senseless killing? I force myself to my feet. “I have to make them see. I’ll think of something.”
Clairen holds up a hand. “If you can wait just a little, perhaps there’s another way. Something less dangerous. Mac and Kit should be back soon. We have some supplies,” she ventures, glancing at her comrades. “Perhaps if you explained to them.”
“Fine,” I say. “Then we’ll wait and ask them.”
“If they say no?” Quentin asks.
I ball my fists around my shredded gown. “Let’s hope they don’t.” Because otherwise I may have to appeal to the Disfavored—tell them that some Aristocrats are still alive and somehow convince them to feed instead of kill them.
chapter fourteen
Post-American Date: 7/7/232
Longitudinal Timestamp: 8:23 a.m.
Location: Rebel Base, Kairos
In the morning, we all sit in a strange silence that’s both comfortable and tense as we eat our gruel. Quentin makes a face the first time he tries it, but continues eating without complaint, though it’s clear he’s struggling with it. I don’t even notice the taste anymore. I ate gruel very similar to this for months while I was imprisoned in my own home with only Nexis to give me comfort.
“Did you sleep well?” Zane asks.
I nod.
He sucks his spoon for a moment. “I thought it was a little strange you two didn’t spend the night together.”
“Zane!” Quentin barks, obviously embarrassed.
“What?” Zane turns to him with a look of confusion and I can’t tell if it’s genuine or feigned—he’s so good at acting. Cheeks warming, I pretend to be interested in my food.
Clairen scoots a little bit closer to me. “How do the clothes fit?”
“Good,” I chirp, happy to grasp onto a new direction in the conversation. “A little big, but it’s so nice to be in something clean.”
“They’re nothing too fancy. I’m sure you’re used to much better,” she says, lowering her eyes like she’s a little ashamed she doesn’t have silk pajamas to offer.
Reaching out, I touch her wrist. “They’re wonderful. Honestly.”
“Yes,” Quentin adds, touching his own new outfit, simple black coveralls—similar to what the service droids in the dome wore—which seems to be the general uniform of the Disfavored rebels. “We’re both grateful for the clothes and a chance to clean up.”
Zane riffles Quentin’s hair. “You two looked like you had a good roll in the dirt.”
Quentin slaps his arm away. “Enough. I’m serious.”
“Aw, come on. I’m only teasing you.”
Aaron appears and squats down beside Clairen. “Mac’s back. Kit’s with him.”
Clairen nods. “We’ll be right there.”
Zane stands and rubs his hands on his uniform, which he’s got unbuttoned and tied around his waist, revealing a black, sleeveless shirt underneath. When he turns, he’s got a different tattoo on his upper arm than Quentin does. His is a coyote, like Mord was in Nexis. “You guys should stay here until they settle in and I can explain things.”
Quentin’s hand tightens on his spoon. “What explaining does she need?”
Rubbing his forehead, Zane looks up at the ceiling and I can tell he’s searching for patience. “It’s more that I’d rather tell Mac about the situation you and the other Aristocrats are in. He can be a little difficult. If you want a yes, it’s best to send someone he knows.”
A scoff escapes Clairen. “That’s an understatement.”
Quentin leans forward. “So, you’ve gotten in pretty tight here?”
Clairen begins to tie her pin-straight hair into a ponytail as she speaks. “You can assume there’s a reason Zane’s not dead yet.”
Zane grins. “He’s smitten with my charming good looks.”
The deflated glare that Clairen gives Zane makes me chuckle.
He touches his chest in mock pain. “Oh ye, of little faith.”
“We, uh,” Aaron says, voice a little nervous. “We should probably go. I’m sure they’ve unloaded, and he doesn’t like waiting.”
“We’re right behind you,” Clairen says, grabbing Zane’s arm and dragging him away.
Zane glances back and winks at us. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you your food.”
“I hope it’s better than this stuff,” Quentin mutters, setting his bowl of half-eaten food aside.
The abandoned gruel bothers me, makes phantom memories of a time when I was starving on rations the size of what he’s leaving in his bowl. I get mad at him then. For making me remember that time when Uncle Simon held me captive, starved me on this same gruel. For being an Aristocrat and having the choicest of real, not even synthetic, food while people like Clairen and Delaney struggled with hunger and learned to be grateful for the dome providing them with rations of gruel. I want to scream at him, yell that he’s stupid and doesn’t understand. Instead, I ball my fists and bite the inside of my lip until it bleeds.
Zane’s expression upon returning a half hour later says it all. Quentin looks up from his hand of cards. Delaney has been teaching us a new game, one we didn’t get a chance to learn in Nexis.
“Let me guess,” Quentin says. “You didn’t get us our food.”
Slumping down on a crate, Zane balances his elbows on his knees. “He’s got a stick up his ass today.”
Delaney doesn’t look away from his hand as he selects a card and lays it down on the table between us. “Are you surprised? He did just come back from the dome. Can’t imagine he saw much of anything he liked.”
Zane runs his fine fingers through his hair. “No. Seems it’s just as we feared. The whole city is down. Half the doors are closed—stuck shut on whatever setting they were on when the city powered down. Some we could pry open, but the ones that count? The ones where the bulk of food and water storage are? Those aren’t gonna come easy.”
“You mean they can’t get to the food and the water stores in the city?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Not all of them. Enough that Mac’s being stingy about not sharing what we’ve got without some g
uarantee that we could resupply. I’m afraid they’re going to resort to explosives,” Zane says, voice quiet as he nibbles a nail. “But that’s dangerous. The slightest concussion could fracture the nano-glass on the dome and without the repair bots? I’ve seen how quickly a cracked dome can empty a city.”
I glance at Quentin. “There must be something we can do.”
Zane says, “Unless you know some magical code to restart a whole city, I doubt you can.”
“No, but I did create the code that allowed the virus into the Main Frame, so, maybe I can write something to restore Evanescence?”
Zane lowers his hand and blinks at me. “Do you think you could do that?”
I shrug. It’s an absolute long shot, something I have no idea how to even start. But it’s a bargaining chip we didn’t have three seconds ago. “It’s worth a try.”
Zane stands and grabs my hand, making me drop all my cards. “Come with me.” He tugs me to my feet and practically drags me down the corridor.
Zane approaches a thick bald man with a low, wide face who stands, beefy arms crossed over a massive chest. He’s short, but both Quent and Gus could probably fit inside of him. Beside him Clairen leans against a table, hand on one hip, her sharp features distinct, with her hair pulled back and her eyes intense with interest in the conversation they’re having.
Aaron stands at the doorway, looking bored, and grins at me when we pass.
Zane clears his throat.
“We were just talking about you.” The man motions for us to come closer.
Lifting his hands, Zane makes introductions. “This is Mac. He was my rebel contact during the planning phases and this is Ellani Drexel.”
“Drexel, eh?” Mac gruffs. “Got a lot to owe you for, little lady.”
“So I’ve heard,” I say. “Even though you all apparently owe me, you’re unable to meet my one request.”
Mac frowns at me. “You’ve got cajones, little one.”
I scrunch my nose. “I have no idea what that is.”
“Means you got a heavy ball sac.”
Still not quite getting what he’s saying, I glance at Zane for help.
“He’s being a vulgar Disfavored man. Ignore him and tell him what you told me.”