Redux

by A. L. Davroe

Mac doesn’t unfold his arms. “I don’t like making agreements when I don’t know the terms of what I’m getting myself into.”

  I bite my lip, start wracking my brain for a different way to explain myself. A way that a Disfavored man who knows nothing about virtual reality games or technology can understand.

  “But you’ve got my support. If only because I don’t have any other options.”

  Held breath is released around me and I can feel it on my skin. “Then by proxy,” Clairen comes forward, enthusiastically slaps her hand down on Zane’s, “you’ve got mine, the Unmentionables, and the rebels.”

  “Good,” I say, pulling my hand away. “Now we just need the Aristocrats and Disfavored to cooperate like we expect.”

  Quent says, “What do you need us to do?”

  “Delia and I will handle the programming end. I’ll dip back into Redux if I have to, ask my mother and father for some help, but I’m pretty confident that I’ll be able to come up with the patch program for The Broadcast and the Main Frame. Delia, since it’s your specialty, you’re in charge of individualized touch points for the Aristocrats.”

  “I’d need their personal information for that,” she says.

  “I can help you there,” Kit says. She slides off her slap-bracelet and pushes it across the table. “Personal files for every resident in Evanescence. You’ll just need a way to read it.”

  Delia hands it to Gus. “Done.”

  Smirking, I glance to my other side. “Quent, you, Gus, Sid, and Cam have an Engineering think-tank between the four of you. I assume you’ll guess what we’ll need.”

  Quent touches my knee. “Even before you.”

  “Ugh, gag me,” I hear Delaney mutter.

  “Delaney, I need you and Aaron to make sure we have quick and easy access to equipment and transportation. I need something for Delia and me to work with and anything Quent and his Dolls need to get the gaming houses up and running and to remodel the access chips.”

  “Clairen and Mac, I need all of your people debriefed and prepared with their own drop points and equipment. You think you can coordinate that and get total compliance?”

  “Easy peasy,” Clairen barks.

  “Zane, have you got your part?”

  He nods. “I just need to know where to go and I need Angelique to be there, too. I can’t pull the whole show off on my own.”

  I glance at Clairen, who nods. “We’ll make it happen.”

  I sit back, trying to think if I’ve missed something, and when I can’t think of anything, I look up. “Anything else?”

  There doesn’t seem to be, though I’m sure everyone is just highly overwhelmed.

  One of Clairen’s Unmentionables pops her head in. “She folded.”

  Quent checks the arcane clock on the wall. “An hour and four minutes. Not bad.”

  “Don’t congratulate me yet.”

  “This is a big sacrifice, Ella,” Kit says. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Avoiding everyone’s eyes, I nod.

  “Has anyone considered that this is going to deeply alter how the Disfavored see Ella?” Zane wonders. “We’re hinging on them folding to the Ella the Savior protocol right? What if this new body shape does something to alter that?”

  “I’ve thought of that already,” I say. “Let me handle it.”

  “I don’t like not knowing what you’re planning,” Mac says.

  “You’ve already admitted you don’t understand half of what I’m doing but you’ve already dedicated yourself to it. Don’t get cold feet now, it’s bad for morale. If you’ll all excuse me, I have to go hack my leg off for the sake of your skins.”

  chapter twenty-six

  Post-American Date: 7/9/232

  Longitudinal Timestamp: 8:08 p.m.

  Location: Rebel Base, Kairos

  Clairen’s teal eyes slice over the rebels, meeting the gaze of each man in turn. “Remember, this is a quick in and out. The top priority is stealth. We get in, release the prisoners, and get out. Aristocrats are our primary objective. I can’t stress enough how important this mission is. Without them, the city is dead. We’re all dead. You got that?”

  There are perhaps five dozen of them, dark and scarred, ready for anything. These are not the broken and bedraggled creatures I used to watch from my web in my father’s workroom.

  “Each of you has been designated a specific drop point and an access chip. You’re to break into small groups. Each group is responsible for releasing and protecting one Aristocrat. You are to get that Aristocrat to your drop point at all costs. If, for some reason, your comrades fall and you find yourself needing to take on more than one Aristocrat, you are to do so. So long as the Aristocrats arrive alive at a drop zone, have an access chip in their hand, and insert that access chip, the mission is a success.”

  Quent shifts on the crate beside me, his knuckles brushing mine. We’re sitting at the back with Delia, Delaney, Sid, Aaron, and Gus near one of the vehicles. Zane and Kit are with Mac somewhere in the honeycomb network of canvas tunnels the rebels call a base. Around us, the rebels mill around, preparing to go out to rescue the captured Aristocrats.

  As Clairen moves toward us, Delia steps in front of her. “What happens if what this Stormy girl told us is a lie?”

  The pale skin under Clairen’s eye twitches, as if annoyed that someone would invite such bad luck with speculation. “Then we’re screwed and I shoot her in the head.”

  “And,” Quent says, “if she’s telling the truth about the layout and the numbers, it’s still gonna be a tough rescue.”

  Clairen doesn’t answer. Instead she points at Aaron. “You, head up Razor team. Guard from the east.” She looks around to Quent. “Where’s your other Doll?”

  “Cam’s not coming,” Quent says. “I excused him from duty for a few days. To grieve.”

  I lower my chin, hiding my expression as an image of Beau lying in a pool of blood flashes into my mind.

  Annoyed, Clairen growls under her breath. “God, you’d think we weren’t all in the midst of a constant funeral dirge.” She spins on her heel.

  Sid says, “I’ll help.”

  She gives him a sidelong glance. “You any good with a gun?”

  “I’m a Doll,” he says, as if that should answer all the questions.

  She tilts her head, considering this.

  “Plus, I’m an Electrical Engineer with some medical background.”

  “Then no.” Clairen waves her hand in dismissal. “Gus, you think you can take Talon to the west, while Delaney takes Fang to the north, and I’ll go to the south with Spur?”

  “Sure,” Gus says, but Clairen is already walking away, not caring whether he thinks he can or not, apparently.

  I grasp Quent’s sleeve as I struggle to stand on my one good leg and hobble after her on my crutches. Realizing I won’t catch up to her fast pace, I call to her, “What team do you want us on?”

  Clairen turns, looks at me, and lets out a half laugh. “You’re not coming.”

  Stunned I blink at her. “What?”

  She turns to me fully. “You’re too valuable to take into Taurus’s stronghold, Ellani.” Her eyes glance toward Delia. “As is your friend.” Then back toward Sid. “And that one.”

  “Wait, what?” Delia squawks. “That’s not fair!”

  Clairen gets in Delia’s face, stares her down. “It’s perfectly fair. You couldn’t fight if your life depended on it. And we need you alive. If, for some reason, we can’t get your friends back, we’ll be relying on the few of you we have to reboot the city. We need you safe.”

  Scowling, Delia turns to me. “Say something!”

  I don’t know what she wants me to say. If the whole point is to satisfy my argument they need as many Aristocrats as they can get to reboot the city, I can’t argue with Clairen. Instead, I say, “Then maybe you shouldn’t take Gus or Quent, either.”

  “Elle,” Quent hisses, nudging me. “I have to go.”

  “What?”
I turn to him, eyes pleading. “I don’t want you to go. Not if I can’t protect you.”

  “Protect him?” Clairen spits. “You? You’re missing a leg!”

  I scowl at her. “Yes, me. I’ve always got his back and he’s got mine.” I meet his eyes. “I don’t trust anyone else.”

  Quent touches my shoulder. “I’ll have my brother with me and Gus has our back. It’ll be okay.”

  I don’t like it. Not one bit. It feels all wrong, being separated from him again. “We should stay together. This doesn’t feel right.”

  “I know.” Then he leans forward and plants a kiss on my forehead. “I’ll be back. If you stay, then I’ll have a reason to come back.”

  Sid gravitates closer to us. “I agree with Ella, Quent. It’s not right. I’m supposed to protect you. It’s my job.”

  “You’ve got new orders,” Quent says. “Your new orders are to protect Ella with your life. She’s the new me—the most valuable person to Evanescence—so you’d better get used to it.”

  As much as I know Sid likes me, he still frowns and I don’t blame him.

  Behind me, I can hear Delia saying, “I swear on the Main Frame, if you don’t bring him back in one piece, I’ll never help you reboot Evanescence. I’ll kill myself first.” She’s talking to Clairen, who looks bored by all of it. Delia grabs her lapel. “You hear?”

  Clairen grabs Delia’s wrist, wrenches herself away. “Yeah, I hear, Domite. Back off.”

  Gus intercepts them, grasping Delia’s shoulders and easing her back toward one of the trucks. They share a heated few words before Delia storms off and Gus goes chasing after her.

  Quent’s fingers slide over my elbow and I look back at him. “Please be safe.”

  He leans in and kisses me again, this time on the mouth. After a long, hot kiss, he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. “Wish me luck. All the luck because we’re going to need it to get everyone back.”

  “Don’t say things like that. I’m likely to tie you up and refuse to let you go at all.” I hold my breath against my thundering heart and the panic it wants to cause. Reaching up, I just hold him close. And I hope, more than anything, this isn’t for the last time.

  “We’re out in two hours,” Clairen announces. “Better prep yourselves.” She turns and disappears down a corridor.

  Silent and stiff, I sit with Quent as he begins checking his weapons. Wanting something—anything—to do to occupy myself, I pick up a semi-automatic pistol and begin cleaning it as I try to wrap my mind around everything that is going on.

  I stare at the gun in my hand. Determined. I wish I could be there to help them. “It should be me doing this. Not you.”

  “It should be both of us,” he says. “But you’re helping in your own way.”

  I look up. “How?”

  “You’re the one who pointed out how much the Disfavored need the remaining Aristocrats.” He smiles and studies the pistol he’s holding. “All that brain wracking I’ve been doing trying to figure out a way, and all you had to do was breathe a few obvious syllables to get them to understand how important those refugees are. And you’ve managed to orchestrate this whole plan, all on your own. We’ve reversed roles. This time you know what’s right to say, and I’m the one going in, guns blazing.”

  I slam down the weapon and stare at it. “Don’t you dare go in guns blazing.”

  He’s quiet for a long time. So long that I lift my gaze and meet his troubled expression. I drop my shoulders. “Will you please stop looking at me like I’m going to break?”

  He lifts a brow. “I’m just worried. You’ve been through a lot lately.”

  “We both have. You have just as much reason for a meltdown as me.” I point at his gun. “And have you even thought about the fact that if you draw that gun out here, you’ll be killing for real?”

  He looks away and mutters, “I’ve already killed for real, remember?”

  I close my mouth. Right. He shot my uncle. And he snapped that cannibal’s neck like a twig. “Is it bothering you?”

  His face twists. “You know how I feel. But I’m trying not to think about it. This isn’t the time, so I’m just outrunning it for now.”

  “I understand. One day, we’re both going to wake up from a decent night’s sleep and not think about what’s gone on the past few days.”

  He closes his eyes. “One day. Maybe when this is all over, when you’re designing dresses and I’m engineering some foolish vehicle, and we have a dog.”

  I lean against the steel frame behind me and smile at the resuscitated dream we once shared of a future together in Nexis. “Dogs don’t exist out here.”

  “I know.”

  “Still, I like the idea.”

  He takes a deep breath. “We’ve had this discussion once already, this whole ‘we might die thing.’ I don’t like the idea of even doing this. It’s dangerous.”

  A small light glimmers before me. “Then don’t go.”

  “I have to go. I’m the President of Evanescence. The reality is, if we manage to save those people, I’m going to be in charge of them. And, therefore, I need to be the one who goes in there and orchestrates their release. I have to do this. Just like you have to stand up and become the leader of the Disfavored.”

  I nod. I can’t let my fear of losing him damn more lives. And I can’t let my fear make him even more afraid. The only time I’ve ever seen him looking this unsure is the moment when the aerovator doors closed between him and Zane. “Hey,” I say, trying to be lighthearted for him. “Where is that daredevil I fell in love with?”

  He gives me a dark grin. “I believe I left him back in Nexis—bleeding on the floor in the Central Dominion—and he’s going to stay there because out here, shit’s real. Out here, I die for real. I lose you for real. Game over. For real.”

  I look away. “You just had to say it out loud.”

  “Had to make sure you realized that. Just in case you got any stupid ideas about coming after us.”

  I frown at my shoe. “The thought had crossed my mind.”

  His amused voice says, “I’m aware.”

  I huff, hating that he understands me so well. I couldn’t sneak up on him if I wanted to. “I need to fantasize about being there with you, otherwise I’m liable to completely melt down and force you to stay behind. Because I’m really scared, Quent. But we both have a responsibility, promises to keep. And we can’t be selfish.”

  He rubs his eyes. “Yeah.”

  I touch his knee. “I love you. You know that, right?”

  He smirks. “I had a suspicion.” Then his expression sobers. “I wouldn’t endanger us unless I had to.”

  PART SIX:

  Ella the Savior

  chapter twenty-seven

  Post-American Date: 7/10/232

  Longitudinal Timestamp: 1:00 a.m.

  Location: Rebel Base, Kairos

  “Time,” I breathe. “Such a strange thing when you think about it.”

  Delia stirs next to me; she’s not sleeping. She’s no closer to sleep than I am. How could she be? Gus is out there. With Quent. I’m just as worried about Gus as I am Quent, but I don’t tell her that. It’s not my place.

  “I don’t believe in time,” Delia finally says. “Not anymore. It’s just a dumb way to measure how empty our lives are.”

  I turn on my side, stare at her profile in the darkness. “Why emptiness? Why not fullness? Why not measure in good things, Dee?”

  She takes a long breath, lets it out. “I suppose you could. I just remember the bad things so much more clearly.”

  I sit up and when I do the faint light coming from the mostly extinguished light-stick catches the tears on her cheeks. Trying not to notice, I wrap my arms around my leg. “Why can we only seem to remember bad things so clearly?”

  She turns her head away from me. “Gus says that it’s the bad things that shape you into who you are. That’s why you remember them so well.”

  Where do the bad things st
art? “If that’s true, then I start much further back than I think. I mean, my mother and father came together under bad circumstances, her being brought in from living a nightmare in the Undertunnel.” I shiver, thinking about the prospect of resorting to cannibalism to survive. Mom lived, so did Kit and Zane. That means they must have eaten what was available to them. The idea that I’m born of a body who ingested another human’s flesh makes my skin crawl. I change the subject before I venture too far down my mother’s dark rabbit hole. “And my father betrayed the woman he loved to be with my mother.”

  “I don’t think my parents ever did anything bad,” Delia says.

  I force a smile. “That means you were born innocent. You’re a good person, Dee, not like me.”

  “No,” she grunts. “I’m not good at all. I’ve done a lot of bad things.”

  “You?” I breathe with a laugh. “Not the Delia I knew.”

  She hitches her blanket up over her shoulder, as if she’s cold. “The Delia you knew is dead. I killed her and I liked it.”

  Bastian told me about this. About the person Delia is now. For a long moment, I just stare at her. Her abrasive voice, her brisk tone, the words… I don’t know what to make of them. How could the girl I knew be this person? And then it seems clear. “When I died… That was the first bad thing, wasn’t it?”

  “Death is powerful. Transformative. The person who dies goes through the last transformation—puts a period at the end of their story. But the people left behind?” She shakes her head. “That’s a new paragraph, a new chapter. For some it’s the climax. Everything falls after that. Maybe they become the villain.”

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

  “I’m not,” she says. “I like who I am now. That girl was weak and small. She was incapable of being alone or standing for what she believed in. She would have crumpled into a ball during the attack. This one grabbed her best friend and saved them both. This one is handling the death of her family far better than those around her. This one is a rock.”

  “Are you?” I ask. “A rock, I mean. Rocks are hard, immovable, unfeeling. You’re not like that. You feel a lot. Just like I do.”