Spear of Light (7 page)

Not like Yi or Chrystal, not a soulbot. Almost certainly not a Next at all.

She'd handed her entrance papers to a similar robot up at the Port Authority station. It looked serious. Humanoid, but not enough that she would mistake it for a person from any angle or distance.

It held a long gun pointed at them.

“There are three of them,” Charlie whispered.

“Drop your weapons.”

Charlie and Jean Paul exchanged glances. Charlie lowered his gun and signaled for Jean Paul to do the same. Neither dropped them. Charlie spoke back with authority. “Why are you here?”

“We were sent to keep the peace.”

Charlie answered. “We came for the same thing.” He gave Cricket a down signal with his free hand.

The tongat grumbled but went to her belly, growling deep in her throat. She looked ready to spring. Nona's breath caught; the robot wouldn't hesitate to kill the animal. She stepped closer to Cricket.

“I'm an officer. Charlie Windar. Ranger First Class. These are my fellow rangers Jean Paul Smith and Nona Martin.”

He had misnamed them. On purpose.

“You are the reason we came.” Its voice was two degrees away from human, eerily nuanced.

“Why?” Jean Paul asked.

“To keep you safe. The rebels want you. They also want two gleaners.”

“We can take care of ourselves.” Charlie had relaxed so visibly that Nona bent down to tie her other boot as he asked, “Why do the rebels want us?”

“You negotiated with the Next.”

Charlie answered the robot. “Then you must only want me. I did the negotiating.”

“You are the only one we have orders for, but we can offer you all safety. Please come with us.”

“No,” Charlie replied, calm and sure. “No. I came to help my friend.”

“Who do you work for?” Nona asked.

“They're Port Authority,” Jean Paul hissed. “They're trying pull rank on us.”

“Where are the gleaners?” Charlie asked.

“One has died.” The robot's voice was eerily calm. It moved closer to Charlie.

Charlie stood his ground. “The woman. What do you know about her?”

A noise came from the cockpit. Gerry's voice. Nona took a long look at the three robots and decided to risk answering the call. She walked behind Charlie and climbed into the skimmer's cockpit. “Yes?” she hissed quietly.

Behind her, the robot was answering. “She is behind you somewhere. Hand me your weapon.”

Surely the robots were the third ship. “Gerry?”

“There's another ship, coming up behind you. No. Landing.”

“Who is it?”

“I don't know.”

Nona whispered, “There are three robots from the Port here.”

“They're dangerous. Stay away from them.”

A metal hand pulled her out of the cockpit. It tightened as she pulled against it, and she relaxed into her captivity, letting the robot turn her around. Her head only came to its chest, and a few stray strands of hair caught in something and pulled. She yelped.

One of the robots had Jean Paul in a tight hold. He squirmed, face reddening with anger. A Port Authority robot held Charlie with one hand. Cricket barked and jumped at the bot. Charlie yelled at her, his voice desperate. The tongat lunged again, and the robot brought its weapon up.

Nona screamed.

A blur flashed from the forest and shoved the robot away. Blood stained the arm of Charlie's uniform.

Charlie screamed. “Cricket! Run! Go!” Instead, she raced toward him and knocked him down.

The blur resolved into a thin man with wild dark hair, dark eyes, and a wide, generous mouth. Yi.

Jean Paul kicked free of his surprised captor.

Yi forced the robot that held Nona away.

The robot Jean Paul fired at fell, but Jean Paul didn't stop. He fired shot after shot into the still metal form, his hair awry and his eyes wide. His weapon flashed bright beams over and over, over and over.

A definitive crunch drew her attention to the robot Yi had just peeled away from her. It lay against a tree at the edge of the little clearing, one leg snapped off at the knee. Nothing else looked broken, but it didn't move. The robot that had threatened Cricket was face down in the soft forest floor, also still.

Cricket still stood over Charlie, who had propped himself up on his elbows to look around. Her nose quested the air and her ears swiveled back and forth; the hair on her spine stood up in a ridge.

Yi walked over to Jean Paul and put a hand on his arm. “It's dead.”

Jean Paul stared at him for a long moment, and then at the robot, at Charlie and the tongat, and then at Nona. He looked back at the robot at his feet. His beam weapon had turned parts of the robot to slag. “Thanks,” he said.

Nona smiled, relief making her want to laugh. “Gerry suggested we stay away from the Port Authority robots.”

Charlie crawled out from under Cricket and pushed himself up to stand, one hand clutching his hurt arm. “Does that mean the revolutionaries have compromised the Port Authority?”

Charlie walked over to her, Cricket practically glued to him. He looked at Yi, measuring, and took a deep breath. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome.”

“How did you know where to find us?” Jean Paul asked.

“Katherine noticed problems in Manna Springs on the news. She tracked you and realized you'd gone out here. Remember when you asked me if I'd tell you about threats?”

Charlie looked pleased. “Thank Katherine.”

Nona knelt down near Cricket, holding a hand out but not reaching for the tongat. “Cricket is amazing. I can hardly tell she's missing a leg.”

Charlie turned back to Yi. “You saved her.”

Yi replied, “She probably saved you by distracting the robot.”

Cricket licked Nona's hand, her rough tongue as wide as Nona's palm.

Jean Paul tapped Charlie on the shoulder and pointed.

They ran across the clearing and folded a frail woman into their arms, splitting up and supporting her weight evenly between them. Next to the threesome, a young woman watched warily.

This had to be Amfi. Nona watched as they settled her on a rock and brought her fresh water. She wasn't as old as Frieda, the first gleaner Nona had met. But she looked at least half that old, far older than Nona or Charlie or Jean Paul. Nona had to remind herself that the gleaner wasn't necessarily older than herself. Without age meds, the wrinkles that spidered out from her eyes and puckered her mouth could have developed as young as fifty or sixty.

The skimmer made a squealing noise, and Nona walked back to it and picked up the communication unit. “We're okay. The skimmer was . . . a friend. We've found our friend, too.”

“That's good to hear. I was worried.”

Nona liked this woman, even though she'd never met her “How are you holding up?”

“I'm still mostly alone.”

Nona glanced toward the small crowd, then eyed the skimmer. They wouldn't all fit. Yi had flown here in something. “It's cold here. I suspect we'll be back soon, but I don't know. Do you have any news from Manna Springs?”

“Not too much. Half of the town is fighting each other and half is fleeing to the farms. The rangers aren't much good at keeping peace, and the Port Authority is afraid to send its robots in.”

“They're not afraid to send them out here. Is the fighting . . . brutal? Are people hurt?”

“Some. I have to go. Others need me.”

“Of course. Thanks for helping us.”

“Stay safe,” Gerry said, her voice already distracted.

The connection clicked closed. Nona imagined Gerry calmly starting with the next person and then the next, triaging and helping. She must be exhausted.

Nona went back to trading her blue dress for warmer pants and shrugged a small coat from her bag over her shoulders.

She couldn't see any stars yet, but she'd be able to soon. It had gone so quiet she could hear the river below them, the wind in the treetops above, and the soft calls of night birds as they woke to start searching for dinner.

CHAPTER EIGHT

NAYLI

Nayli stared at the screen, using the entire formidable force of her imagination to feel all of the people watching her, even though she couldn't see a single one. Thousands must be viewing in real time from the High Honors, and millions would watch this moment later, as rumors of the Shining Revolution's safe re-emergence raced across the solar system.

It felt good to look outward instead of focusing on her own still, small soul. Being human meant acting for the whole, leading. It meant sacrifice.

Brea and Darnal stood behind her and Vadim, looking subordinate as always. A lie. Vadim placed one hand on her shoulder and whispered, “Close it down.”

Nayli took in a deep breath and centered herself. “We will spread our message of humanity across each and every station and ship. We will do it together. You and I and Vadim and every other human who feels a heart beating against their chest, hot blood running through their limbs, and clear thinking that directs their gaze, their words, their being, and their choices. We will stay pure and free, and we will entreat others to stay pure and free. We will spread freedom.

“We will use our human souls to prevail in a fight against the soulbots and against the Next. We will do this together with you. You are joining us every minute, every second. We are growing together.

“We will prevail.”

She made a closing motion with her fist. The cameras stopped, and the lights came down.

Brea watched her in cool, triumphant approval.

Bitch. Always Brea. The cold winner of every game.

She forced herself to stand down and relax. She looked to Darnal and asked, “Will the Next react? Have they harmed any stations since they took the High Sweet Home?”

Darnal shrugged. “If they do, we become martyrs.”

Since he wasn't even remotely willing to die, he must be putting on a face. “So be it,” she said. “We have never walked in fear.”

Vadim tipped her head up, so that she looked into his dark and determined eyes. He was a force against her and the wind at her back, the one person who formed her as much as she formed herself.

She couldn't read his emotions. Desire burned in his eyes, and the fire of persuasion that always clung to him for a few long minutes after a public appearance.

He leaned down and covered her mouth with his, taking her tongue in a bruising fashion, forcing his own inside of her mouth.

She flinched, surprised by his intensity in such a public place. As she pulled away she caught another glimpse of his eyes. What she saw made her shiver.

Ignoring the exchange, Brea said, “Well done. Over twenty million people have joined us since we went dark just outside of the Deep. Our appeal has not waned.”

More than twenty million. Added to the hundred million and change they had before. More than in all of history. Not enough, not nearly enough. Yet. Still, it was hard to imagine so many. There would be no single place they could gather, no ten ships or even ten stations they could all gather inside of.

Their followers. Their army. That, too, made her shiver.

“Let's eat,” Brea said.

Nayli's stomach had glued itself to her backbone. Vadim took her hand and pulled her out of the projection room. He gripped her tightly, keeping her close.

The entire crew of the
Free Men
waited in the galley, sitting around bare tables and watching them come in. Over a hundred people, all muscled and fit, all near-perfect examples of humanity. They had been handpicked from among thousands of applicants to be on the flagship. Most had spent years on the other ships of the Shining Revolution, working their way up-rank to qualify as inner circle.

Many had augments, since they had come from the bigger stations where hair, eyes, skin, and even gender changed regularly. But none were newly changed.

They stood up as one, acknowledging Vadim as he entered.

To her surprise, as she came through the door, they began clapping.

She had missed this. She wasn't a tall woman, but the clapping and the adulation made her feel taller. She managed to maintain stoic discipline while she made her way in fourth place through the food line. She took vegetable soup and bread, fresh salad from the ship's gardens, and real chicken.

The crew stood up to fill their own plates only after all four were seated at the head table.

Vadim raised a glass of wine and smiled at the crowd, but Nayli could tell that his smile was not entirely genuine.

After dinner, Nayli walked beside Vadim. She had drunk far less wine than her husband, and while he didn't exactly need to lean on her, she found herself acting as a balance point more than once. He smelled of alcohol and sweat and the sweet cake they'd all shared to commemorate coming out of hiding and issuing a challenge to the damned robots.

She hadn't been in their shared rooms since the day of the fake Chrystal's death. Nevertheless, she led him in with confidence and shut the door behind them both.