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CHAPTER 44


Xenni whooped so loudly from her elevated seat over the back of the truck she nearly drowned out comms.

“—formation. Confirm.”

Otie wants us to spread out, following marked paths Mercy sent so we don’t get exploded on our way in. Bee hadn’t had any trouble following both enthusiastic yelling from above and orders from comms—and information from another AI. Talinn rolled her eyes at how close she’d come to missing the fact that that level of detail hadn’t been sent over comms at all.

“Strap in.” She followed her own order, didn’t glance to see if Falix had listened this time, and kicked out the brake.

“Snake formation, confirm.” Tiernan, too cheerful in the third truck, clicked twice to indicate he’d caught all the levels, and Jeena hesitated midreach toward the comms button.

“We’ve got it, Jeebo. Let them know.” Talinn glanced at the upper corner of the windshield reflexively, but the mundane confines of the truck didn’t have the interactive screen of an Eight-enabled machine. Bee couldn’t map out their route in front of her eyes, but Talinn reminded herself that had been a crutch, and she’d trained for cycles before that to process Bee’s information without any display at all.

Otie’s truck veered further left, Tiernan’s wide right, and Talinn dropped them from her list of concerns. They had gunners as skilled as hers, reflexes as fast as hers, and coordinates as trustworthy—or not—as hers. Bee would keep tabs on them with one of the drones, and as for the rest . . . 

As for the rest, Talinn spared a heartbeat’s worth of a moment to wish they were three AI-guided tanks driving ahead of a raging storm. So be it. They would be the raging storm ahead of the raging storm. In their modified, barely armored, nonrepairable tread-riding trucks.

“Targets locked,” Xenni sent over their local channel, and Talinn loosened her hold on the wheel. Obligingly, the truck veered only slightly as the large guns above spat a series of large yield blasts into the haze ahead.

Talinn couldn’t make out their targets, only the larger plumes of dust erupting ahead. “Visibility shouldn’t be this bad.” She slewed the truck back on course between firing bursts and leaned closer to the wheel as though that would help clarify the path ahead. “The storm’s behind us.”

Mercy set off a wave of blasts to warn off the scavengers. Deeper underground than we have any way of reading with these shit sensors, but enough to kick off a secondary wave of dust ahead.

“The storm behind us is altering the air pattern. It’ll be pulling material from all over, not simply behind us.” Falix’s voice, too close to her ear, indicated the Spacie had not strapped in this time either. Talinn entertained the temptation to steer too hard into the next turn, then tamped down the break in focus.

Two things can be true. Bee shared a flash of updates from the drones and Talinn pulled the truck back on their designated track.

“I’ve studied atmospheric phenomenon for the cycle we’ve been moored to this planet.” Falix continued speaking until Jeena spun around and hissed at him. Even over the intermittent fire from above them and the rev of the engine, Talinn heard the distinct click of Falix’s cross belt.

“Visibility is about to get worse.” She clipped her tone and swallowed back her grin, keeping her focus ahead. Xenni got to have all the fun above, but her job was rapidly getting more interesting.

Right.

“The course is set for—”

Hard right! Now! Talinn’s fingers twitched, but she yanked the truck to the right, and the gun above cut off as abruptly as the view ahead of them vanished.

Fast as you can, twenty-two seconds. Maintain heading. Again, nerves and muscles twanged and popped as Talinn complied. Was Bee trying to take over? Surely not.

“What?” Jeena managed, grasping the upper handle over her door. Falix hushed her, and for twenty long seconds, the only sounds around them were the rumble of the engine and the pinging of dust against their exterior.

Pull to the left. Get ready to brake hard, but maintain speed until my mark.

The hatch between them and the gunner compartment slid away, and Xenni slid down. “Unhitch.” Her voice was low. Not meant for Talinn then, who ignored it.

MARK.

Talinn slammed on the pedal and the truck lurched to a halt. The back doors flew open, Falix and Xenni throwing themselves into the mess outside.

“Should I . . . ?” Jeena turned wide eyes to Talinn.

No, Bee said immediately, and Talinn repeated it aloud to the tech. Dust blew into the truck, but the wind outside, now that they were still, was more desultory. They were still ahead of the storm, though visibility was shit.

Caytil’s voice, faintly calling an intelligible word, locked the situation in. Talinn muttered a curse, reangled the tires for the direction they’d need to head, and clenched her hands around the steering control until the small bones ached.

She braced herself for Bee to say incoming, considered sending Jeena climbing through the truck to take over the guns, and then bodies crowded into the truck.

“Well timed, Breezy.” Caytil slid in, supporting a reeling Tiernan with her. Xenni followed, pulling Konti inside, then immediately climbed back through her hatch. This left room for Falix, who slammed the door behind him. Caytil closed the one on her side and Talinn—too occupied with how still Konti was—needed Bee’s discordant noise in her head to snap front and get them back on course.

“Truck got blown up.” Caytil leaned forward briefly, squeezed Jeena’s shoulder, and vanished into the back seat.

“Konti?” Jeena’s hands lifted over her cross belt, and without looking Talinn swatted at her.

“She’ll make it until we make it to Mercy, or she won’t.” The strain in Caytil’s voice kept it from being heartless, and Falix’s muffled snort could have been a sob. Tiernan spoke, but the words were so jumbled Talinn couldn’t spare the attention to parse them.

“We’ve got them,” Jeena said, and it took Talinn another long moment to realize the tech wasn’t repeating the concept needlessly, but confirming over comms.

It’s fine. Focus on the turns. We’re almost there, and we need to keep speed. And hope Cece isn’t full bonzo and misleading us—the drones are blind. Swinging them wide to see if I can get them back to the dome, but it’s not likely.

“How likely is it Cece’s giving you the wrong coordinates and I’m about to drive us face first into a stone wall?” Talinn subvocalized, but she wouldn’t have been surprised if any of the other AIs had received similar questions from their meat-based partners.

Less likely than the drones getting back safely. Bee hummed, and Talinn’s adrenaline level didn’t lighten. It’s the best odds you have. The deployable cover will protect you from the storm, but if those empties are still moving around you’re sitting targets. Mercy isn’t the only one who knows how to use explosives in the area.

Talinn couldn’t argue with that, and tried to force the pedal further into the base of the truck.


Mercy hadn’t misled them, and Talinn’s stress-elevated reflexes brought the truck to a halt inches from ramming into Otie’s, which had already pulled into the cave opening Talinn saw only as they entered it.

Safe. Bee made the word tiny, but Talinn took a steadying breath against the potential jinx—then shoved the idea of a jinx entirely out of her head. There were two bleeding Eights in her backseat, and they were in a cave with an enormous storm approaching. They had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to borrow worry from the future.

Talinn turned off the truck and slid out, opening the back door to get a better sense of the situation. Behind the truck, a field shimmered into place over the mouth of the cave.

Between the lack of visibility and the field, we should be clear for now.

“How are they?”

Talinn bit back a curse and swiveled. She knew better. They weren’t safe, they were in a temporary holding pattern, and in a new environment the first thing she should have done was secure the area.

It was only Otie, her voice made briefly unfamiliar by nerves and worry and her utter failure enacting one of their earliest lessons. She’d gotten too used to Bee’s eyes in the sky. She’d gotten soft, wasting away on a dust planet. No. Talinn took firm hold of her rampaging brain and shoved the thoughts away. It was easier to beat herself up and dwell on past actions, but what she had to do, right now, was deal with a broken Konti, a wounded Tiernan, and a whole other Medith.

One thing at a time. Answer Otie.

“Konti’s unconscious, and we shouldn’t move her.” Caytil’s voice issued briskly from the truck. “Tiernan’s in and out. Any sign of our host?”

“I’m watching you we have no med supplies beyond the basics so stabilize and leave them you won’t be staying long the storm will be brief.” Medith’s voice, or the voices of Mercy, issued from overhead, echoing with distance through rock, rather than mechanical means.

Talinn pulled the door wider, leaving room for whoever decided to come out and taking the belated opportunity to give the space a onceover. The cave was taller than it was wide, with three openings—the one behind their truck, one to her left, and one above and ahead of the vehicles. The words came from up there, but there was no visible means of entry.

“You’ll leave as the storm is ending that will keep the soldiers from being ready it will be bumpy but fine but why are you here that’s most important we’re not supposed to talk to anyone.”

Talinn could almost pull apart the different intonations that indicated one dominant voice or the other. “A little help?” she subvocalized to Bee, then stared at the higher opening and asked in a more carrying voice, “Soldiers?”

“The scavengers.” Bee emphasized Medith’s pause, then rang a small tone every time she considered the voice changing—it served as a version of punctuation for Talinn’s struggling comprehension. “They’re all former soldiers. It’s why they’re effective. Didn’t you know? How could you, you’re not paying attention to the right things. We didn’t either.”

“Unadapted soldiers.” Otie kept her focus on the bodies in the back of Talinn’s truck, handing over a medkit Talinn hadn’t seen coming. “All over Ilvi?”

“All over is a strong word. There are some. Retired or sent away or ran away. Why are you here why are you here why are you here?”

Medith—Otie’s Medith—called back, “Why are you here?”

A rope ladder—ragged and reliable as their host’s sanity—flopped from the opening. “Only some of you. Three. Four if you must. Why did you bring so many? Don’t answer I don’t care, pick your three. Four.”

Xenni dropped her head through the hatch, and Talinn focused on her face instead of the too-still body of Konti, the wavering Tiernan propped up against Falix. “I’ll stay with the gun. Got a full revolution if I need to cover behind or in front. Tell Arnod—”

Otie shook her head once, the motion sharp, and Talinn’s eyes drifted to Otie’s truck. Otie’s damaged truck. The mounted gun was facing backward, so she hadn’t noticed—hadn’t let herself see—the covered compartment for the gunner was peeled back. Empty. But no sign of Arnod in the cave.

This is a clusterbugged shitpipe of a day. Bee’s voice thinned—not with distance, but with grief. Anger. Talinn couldn’t tell, which should have bothered her. All she could do was swallow.

“Jeena.” Otie cleared her throat and repeated the tech’s name. Maybe it hadn’t been Talinn’s distraction that had made her clone’s voice unrecognizable—even after the gesture, Otie’s words emerged thicker than normal. “You and me for sure. Medith, do you think you’ll help or hurt?”

Medith shrugged, then pressed her hand to her port. “I’ll stay down here. Call me if you think it will help. I don’t want . . . I’ve got more field med training than the rest of them.”

“Me,” Caytil said, sliding free of the truck. “I’m going up.”

Go.

Talinn swallowed again—bile and too much saliva crowding her mouth—but didn’t move. Lei and Bee had found this other Mercy. Sammer had lost the draw to come—Otie refused to risk both her doubled AI’s at once, and Talinn was a better driver than him—but she should go. She shouldn’t stand there, staring at Konti bleeding from so many places, at Tiernan’s unfocused eyes, at Falix’s too-wide pupils, at the empty space where Arnod should be standing, at—

Talinn. Bee did something that made all the nerves in her left side spark at once, and by the time Talinn caught her breath, she was already halfway to the ladder.

“Guess that’s four.” Caytil’s wry voice, so familiar, kicked Talinn back to herself. She scrubbed her knuckles against her eyes until the pressure shifted into pain, then shook out her hands and grabbed the ladder.

“Bee helped find the place.” Talinn said it aloud more for herself; Caytil already knew. “Gotta go up.” She turned her head exactly enough to see Caytil, and ignored everything else in her peripheral. “If this thing breaks, don’t cushion my fall.”

“And go home to Bee without you? Yeah, that’ll happen.” Caytil yanked her back for a brief, fierce hug, then hit her shoulder. “Get.”

The ladder held, and the tunnel at the top was exactly as dark and dank as she’d expected. Moisture caught the light from below in patches that almost made patterns, and the shadows flickered around the curve ahead. Caytil, Jeena, and Otie crowded in within minutes, and Talinn walked in the one direction open to them.

The curve opened into what could have been another planet.

How long have they been here?

The gaping space was easily four time as large as the cave they’d parked the trucks and their wounded in below, with six dwelling-sized structures studded throughout it. A dome, encrusted with shining material, possibly gems, had been erected near the middle. Two rectangular buildings that looked like temporary base housing branched on either side, one carved in intricate patterns, one covered in film printouts and notes. The remaining three were cubes clustered to the side, with display screens all over every one of their visible surfaces. Most were deactivated, but there were enough in motion to provide the light and moving shadows Talinn had noted.

A figure stalked out of one of the cubes, brandishing a handful of films and muttering words that even Bee couldn’t parse. Shorter than Medith—her Medith, Otie’s Medith, maybe the lost IDC Medith she’d never actually seen—face lined barely more than Otie’s, dressed in something dark and baggy.

“Medith.” Otie stepped forward, her palms outstretched. “What is all this?”

“Talinn.” Medith stopped short, close enough to touch them, and crossed her arms. “And a baby Talinn. A . . . yes, a Caytil? How nice. And you, I don’t know you, you have hair, are you a Spacie—no. A tech?” Her eyes widened and she stumbled back, hand slapping at her port, printouts spilling over the ground. “No no no no.”

Her eyes were wrong, but Talinn had squatted and was gathering up the dropped films before she realized what it was. One pupil the barest dot, one enormous. Like a Spacie, though both irises were the same color. Like a broken Eight.

Her left eye is vibrating. So slight a motion it took Bee looking through her eyes to see it. Like Divya the machinist? Talinn focused on picking up the films—covered in a code or shorthand she couldn’t make immediate meaning of—and let Otie’s attempt to soothe the other woman wash over her.

“WHY are you here?” Medith’s voice cracked in a new way on each word, the pain so raw Talinn hunched over the gathered notes. Another Medith. Another one she couldn’t help.

Get up.

Talinn stood, talked over Otie before she realized she’d made the decision to do so. “A defense array told us we had to get out or die. Sent us here.”

“To me? To us?” Medith’s off-center eyes snapped to her, and Jeena murmured something Talinn ignored.

“To Ilvi.” Talinn extended the films, her gaze locked back on Medith’s. “Bee found you. And Lei.”

“A voice.” Medith laughed, reached for her notes but only opened and closed her hand instead of grabbing onto them. “Loud. Told you.”

“You heard it?” Otie pitched her voice softer. Matching Talinn’s cadence exactly, as though she could convince Medith it was the same person talking. Medith wavered, her hand still opening, closing, opening. Reaching but not taking.

“A voice. The voice. So loud. Told me, took Cece came and cleaned it out and said and said and said.”

Talinn eased forward, enough to brush Medith’s hand with the films. A spasm ran down the left side of the other woman’s body, then she grabbed her notes, hugged them close to her chest.

“I took Cece back. Had to. Told the voice. Clones and we knew it and the voice knew it and Base knew it and everything blew up.”

“Your base blew up?” Talinn frowned as Medith shook her head so hard something audibly cracked. “Blew up figuratively . . . Base Command found out?”

“Base Two. Base Two knew. Base Two knew and I knew and the voice knew and—”

Ice slithered along Talinn’s spine, even as a burning flush rose from her neck over her scalp. Base Two . . . a voice . . . their Medith had heard a voice, before her Cece . . . 

Ask her about being retired. Bee clipped each word, precise, unemotional. It grounded Talinn, a coating of steel between her and the freezing and the fire.

“Mercy.” Talinn snapped the name, and Medith’s tumble of words ended midsyllable. “You’re a retired Eight. That’s still an Eight. Focus. We’re here because the war is a sham. Clones on both sides, over and over, fighting the same fight. We’re on Ilvi because a defense array threatened to wipe us out otherwise. We’re here because you’re the only retired Eight any of us have ever seen with our own eyes.”

A hand touched her elbow—Caytil or Otie, giving support. She couldn’t turn to check, her gaze locked on Medith’s. Not her Medith. These eyes—pupils and vibrations aside—were more ancient than Medith’s had ever been. Could ever be.

“Why are you here, Mercy?”

“I knew.” Medith’s throat flexed, as though she were swallowing back words. “We knew about the clones. I found out . . . after the voice, after Cece, we broke into all of Base Two’s files. Pulled everything everything everything.” Her voice stuttered, then she straightened her shoulders. “Everything about where they made us. How they made us. Put Cece in the servers. We were the array, it was easy to slide when no one was looking and we pulled everything.” Medith blinked, dropped her chin and stared at the handouts against her chest. “We ran. And we found more.”

She was silent for so long Talinn forgot they were standing in the middle of a cave overflowing with complete and utter clusterbugged mess. She forgot there were dead or dying Eights below them. Forgot a storm raged somewhere outside the stone. She remembered Medith’s face, saw the emotions twitch under the surface in a way she still couldn’t read from an unadapted human.

Caytil eased forward, and Talinn remembered where they were as the other woman spoke. “You found more of the cloning facilities?”

“All.” Medith stretched her mouth wide—it was a smile in name only. She waved her notes, then ran her free hand over them, indicating it was the information she’d found. “Seeded bits of Cece everywhere we could. Said . . . said if anything happened to me, we’d tell everyone. IDC. UCF. Civilians. Stations. Arrays. Give everyone the locations everyone the information everyone the truth.”

Talinn tore her eyes from Medith, turned enough to see Otie and Jeena. Was it possible, she wanted to ask?

“You splintered yourself,” Jeena murmured, and there was such care in her voice Talinn forgot to breathe. “You broke yourselves over and over, and you got away?”

“Made a deal. Everyone died. Everyone. Talinn and Caytil and Tiernan and Keso and Lammin and Sammer and Base Two and everyone. But the voice . . . the voice said I could go.”

Defense array? Bee hummed, the sound low and distant. Was she talking to Cece? Was there a Cece to talk to?

“I have it.” Medith brandished the films again, slowly this time, almost shy. “All the information. In case someone came. The voices are wrong, they don’t make sense, they’re not us, but . . . one helped me. One voice. Told me where to go. Where to find materials.”

“How long have you been here?” Jeena asked, so gentle, as Talinn took the notes. She didn’t know how much of it was true, how much of it they’d be able to make meaning of, but she took them.

“Cycles. Cycles and cycles and cycles. Like the war.”

“The war is breaking, Medith.” Otie had moved closest, at some point, extended a hand toward Medith, who stared at it without breathing. “More of us know. The defense array—a voice—told us we couldn’t stop it, but I think . . . I think we can. If you’ll help us.”

“And then it will be quiet?” Medith bent forward, her face nearly touching Otie’s hand. “You’ll make it quiet?”

“Whatever you want, Medith.” Otie cupped the other woman’s cheek in her hand, and Talinn felt the ghost of the gesture on her own skin. “Whatever you need.”


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