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CHAPTER 11


Talinn cocked her head, stared at the screen, and laughed.

“They don’t have anything big enough to dent a tread. What are they doing?”

They can’t wreck us, but they can damage—

“Are the arrays turning to aim at us at all?”

No movement from the arrays.

“Then forgive me if I don’t waste time shaking in my borrowed coverall.” Talinn snorted, then made an effort—at least five seconds’ worth—to get her voice in neutral before toggling comms.

“Breezy to Base. Is there a reason you have us—” Another laugh threatened to burst through and she forced a quick pause on herself before continuing. “Surrounded?”

“Base to Talinn Reaze. You are to exit the tank without weapons or face cover—”

The laugh died in her throat, and the heat of rage swarmed up to take its place. “This shit again?”

There is no interference I can detect. Arrays are still motionless.

“Then I’m gonna push it. I’m tired of this nonsense . . . but go ahead and cut my line if those arrays twitch in our direction, yeah?”

You don’t even have to ask.

“Base, did you or did you not order us to come home?”

“Base to Reaze, you are to—” The speaker repeated the directive as if she hadn’t spoken, and Talinn let him finish. Mostly because she and Bee hadn’t worked out a way to superimpose their words to take over the base line—nor had they tried too hard given the insubordination charge that would follow—but she did sneer the entire time.

“I’d like confirmation from Base Two.”

Silence held for thirty beautiful seconds before the poor comms operator repeated himself a third time.

“Unless you’re prepared to waste a lot of ammunition on this tank, Breezy repeats: I want confirmation from Base Two that my orders were to return to base, which should not necessitate a fully armed escort that looks hostile.”

No cursing at all, well done.

“It’s a close thing.” Talinn stretched her legs, holding her feet parallel to the floor and glaring at the comms panel as though they could see her from base. When there continued to be no answer and no firing on them, she slammed her feet down and stood, twisted to stretch her back, and idly regarded the waiting soldiers. “Do you think any of these unadapted humans are clones?”

Why would they be?

“If everybody’s clones, you’re not tapping the general population for the war. Fewer people with outside connections to notice something hinky with the Eights and go blabbing about it.”

Seems complicated.

“Sure, because Old Talinn’s story was very simple.”

Simple enough. War makes money. Money good. Keep war going. Don’t kill too many civilians.

“I just wonder. Maybe we’re all clones, everywhere, everyone. The same . . . what do you think? Thousand? Two thousand? Faces and bodies and predictable choices, living their prescribed lives and keeping Command happy.”

Do you really—

“Nah.” She pulled an arm across her chest, then switched, and comms remained dead. “Be expensive to grow people when people can just make more of themselves. But I can’t think of any reason why we’d be getting dragged in with guns in my face again, and so I’m gonna focus on the other thing.”

All of it is equally likely to make you crazy.

“But the first probably is less likely to get me shot.”

For this moment, you mean. More likely to get you shot as we try to get under what’s really happening.

“I’m definitely going to get shot at, is what you’re saying?” Talinn blew out her breath in an overdone sigh, then leaned over to hit comms again. “Base, how long are we going to be here? I’m being a good little soldier, but this is ridiculous.”

“Base Two to Breezy.” The impatient, dismissive tone matched Talinn’s first interactive encounter with the man perfectly, and she crossed her arms as he spoke. “During the base attack, AIT pair designated Mercy sabotaged their own array. CC-525 is destroyed. Medith Tortil claims to have no idea what happened. All AITs have voluntarily undergone load-in and remanded themselves with techs in a secure area.”

“I hate this planet. We’ve talked about that, yeah?” Talinn threw herself back into the chair and Bee made the entire display a zoomed in, semipixelated view of the destroyed array. Cece was . . . destroyed? But Medith still lived? Panic and grief ate at the edges of her thoughts, and she and Bee both shunted the potential repercussions aside. None of it made sense. There had been a lot of that lately, and it appeared that even a paired AI/human mind could only take so much before it all ceased to be real. “What am I supposed to say to that?”

They’re not asking you to load-in.

“Huh.” Talinn tapped comms with her foot—she’d apologize to Sigmun if it ever mattered again—and replied to the base’s second-in-command. “But Base didn’t ask me to open up and wait for load-in. He specifically gave orders for me, Talinn, to step out, not Breezy.”

“Breezy, lead tech Boralid indicated it would be unsafe for you to load-in at this time. B-617 is to remain in current location. We are assured that with your, Reaze’s, life and a large EMP as security, B-617 will remain a nonthreat to the base.”

Maybe it is what you said earlier. Maybe the IDC is squatting in our base, pretending. Bee’s words fuzzed around the edges, fury and a host of other reactions shared between them until it was unclear what was what.

“I wish that were the case. Can you see the EMP?”

No. If it’s one of the empty humans out there, they’ll stay behind instead of escorting you. If it’s somewhere else, maybe you can find it once you’re inside.

“I don’t think they’re going to let me wander.”

They’re not going to “let” us do anything. But I trust we’ll figure out something.

“If we ever get a chance, let’s make friends with the big defense array at the transit point. And when we finally, finally leave this bug-eaten planet, we ask it to blow the entirety of P-8 to a nice, chunky asteroid field.”

Motion seconded.

“At least you won’t be in a box I have to keep physical contact with this time.”

They may try to put you in a shielded room.

Talinn brushed a finger over the port behind her ear. “I’ll tunnel out with my toenails if I have to.”

If you’re in a shielded room . . . ask Jeena about the discrepancy she thinks she found.

Talinn froze in a crouch, halfway standing from the chair. “Why under all the skies would I do that?”

She’s more likely to tell you if I can’t hear.

“I . . .” Talinn hit comms to buy herself time. “Breezy to Base. Thank you for the clarification. B-617 acknowledges. On my way out.” She left her hand on the panel and tilted her head back to better stare at the ceiling. “Any other psychological insights you’d like to share?”

Base Two is either looking out for you, or wants to strangle you after this delay. Unclear which.

“Point to you. I have no follow-up questions to that.” Talinn scanned the interior of the tank more out of habit than need—she’d brought nothing in other than Bee, and would be leaving without the full weight of her AI in her head. She wanted Sigmun’s blanket, but had no right to it—though the idea of climbing out of the tank with a stitched blanket in her hand, surrounded by distrustful, armed, unadapted humans in full gear almost made her reconsider.

Bee muttered threats as Talinn climbed the ladder, and while Bee didn’t safe the turrets, neither did the drones buzz out of storage, so Talinn recognized the small wins of AI discipline for what they were. The soldiers managed to snap further to attention at her appearance, and she inclined her head as though they were her honor guard.

Eights didn’t get honor guards, and honor guards probably never pointed their weapons at the honor they were guarding, but it made her feel better all the same.

She dropped to the ground, patted the thick armor above the nearer treads, and mentally put nonexistent money on the taller guard to the right having the EMP. Bee chose the shortest one with the boxier weapon near the back, but then everyone fell in around her as Talinn moved.

So much for that. None of the other Eights are going to fire an EMP at me, so it’s not loaded near the arrays. Bee scanned the area, though with the way their instruments had been acting, neither of them held high hopes for finding the AI-targeted weapon. Nor would it change their next actions even if they could spot it—Bee wouldn’t fire on it, Talinn would still comply with orders—but it would ease some measure of the tension they shared to have it identified and isolated.

None of the other humans talked to her, and that familiarity should have made the walk more natural. Instead the itch at the base of Talinn’s skull slowly spread down her neck, across to her shoulder blades, and further to the small of her back. She locked her muscles down to keep from squirming as they marched into the main entrance of the base, but the prickling only intensified as they continued through empty halls.

The base hadn’t been overly populated at any point, without any active conflict with the IDC to justify it, but there was usually someone in any given hall passing by. With fifteen unadapted humans with her, and the Eights locked up somewhere with the techs, that didn’t leave much of anyone to pass in the spaces in between.

Are they all still in load-in holding patterns? Bee’s voice twitched along with the nerves bundled in Talinn’s spine, words jumping midsyllable. Or do you think they’re all back in those stupid boxes?

“Can’t say either is ideal.” Despite her long practice subvocalizing without obvious tells, one of the soldiers nudged her a moment later. Did he guess? Did they have some sort of listening device? Talinn could stop talking to be safe, but instead she decided to test it. “My money’s on the boxes.”

No one nudged her this time, and Talinn leaned her head from side to side in an attempt to pop some of the pressure in her neck as the silence and walk continued.

Your money is my money, so it’s not much of a bet.

“That’s not how that works—what?” The last word hit full volume, as she ignored all the weapons and snapped her head to the side to regard the soldier who’d nudged her again.

The soldiers were all too disciplined to yank their weapons up, but several heads swiveled her way. The one who’d nudged her said nothing, head remaining forward, stride unbroken.

“What what?” The one on her other side asked, and Talinn ensured her sigh was audible, but didn’t otherwise answer.

This is going well.

“No one’s shooting.”

Why you insist on jinxing everything—

“You don’t believe in jinxes.”

No, but you do, and yet you jinx right along anyway, as though you’d rather it all go to chaos.

“I mean . . .”

Do not get shot. It’s rule number one.

“Thought rule number one was—”

It’s rule number one today.

“So noted.” She didn’t get nudged again, and then the line of soldiers in front of her was slowing, several peeling back to the sides, their backs locking against the walls. Two about-faced on either side of a door ahead to the right, which Talinn took for her cue.

“Appreciate the escort,” she said at audible volume, her tone carefully neutral. None of them reacted, so she kept pace to the door. The nudging solider stepped up smartly and ran something over the control panel—it didn’t resemble any security badges she’d seen before, but she saw no point in asking—and the door slid open.

Talinn did not expect the nudging soldier to follow her in, but he did as the rest stayed in the hall. She put that to the side to deal with later, given the room full of Eights she needed to check in with.

She hadn’t been in this side of the base before. On the base schematics it was marked as tech residence, but this room was three times the size of an Eight’s quarters, and had three times as many aggressively blinking consoles and angular counters than she’d have expected for sleeping arrangements. The Eights were in various clusters—Sammer and Xenni talking together over a long table against the back wall, a few of the tank pairs sitting on the floor, legs spread, backs against some kind of control panel, most of the jet pairs and the rest of the tankers gesticulating animatedly as they stood around a screen, and a final mix sitting or standing on stools around a tall table strewn with printouts off to the right.

“Talinn.” Jeena slid through the group near the screen, and Sammer pivoted away from Xenni at the sound.

“This doesn’t look like load-in, and I don’t see any boxes . . . ?” She crossed her arms, but a jolt of warmth flushed through her at the unstrained tone of the tech. Talinn had never had a remotely nice feeling about a tech before, and she shoved the reaction down as ruthlessly as Bee rerouted her headaches.

“No, all the AIs are hosted in the servers here. They’re fully apart from the main base storage, so Base Two approved it.” Jeena gave the still silent nudging soldier a once over, then turned her attention back to Talinn. “Sorry we couldn’t risk you to load-in and get Bee in.”

“I can still hear her—she’s used to staying hosted in the tank when we’re at base.” Talinn lifted a shoulder, as though it didn’t matter at all. And it wouldn’t, under circumstances that even approached normal. That was standard operations on assignment—once load-in was complete, the full weight of the AI program remained in their designated craft to reduce wear and tear on the human brain, and hold readiness for action at any given time. Without targeted shielding in effect, the active part of the program that remained hosted in the human brain allowed communication no matter the distance.

“Of course, of course.” Jeena glanced at the soldier, then fixed her eyes back on Talinn’s. “How was patrol?”

Does Jeena know? Bee’s tone was curious, not shocked, and Talinn found she had no definite answer.

“Not as eventful as the time you all had here, it sounds like.” Neither soldier nor Jeena jumped on that conversational opening, so after a moment Talinn picked it up herself. “Did River, Nips, and Ziggy get back much before me?”

“River is still on their way, but Ziggy and Nips were a great deal closer when orders went out.” Jeena angled away from the soldier, gestured to invite Talinn to walk with her, and strode toward Sammer and Xenni.

Talinn did not roll her eyes when the soldier fell in behind her because she’d expected him to do so. At least he hadn’t nudged her again.

Sammer and the one remaining base-support Eight appeared less normal closer in—their expressions were overly bland, motions too jerky for true, and both sets of eyes were each far more bloodshot than they’d been during the first battle the day before. Sammer’s skin showed new lines radiating from his eyes, as though he were permanently squinting.

Sammer’s gotten closer to Other Talinn’s age overnight.

Talinn had no retort for Bee, and nothing to say that would help the base-support pairs. She hadn’t remotely begun to process what had happened to Medith, and the three base-support Eights had worked together closely, running endless drills and tests and practice attacks in the midst of unadapted humans and the lack of enemy action.

To lose one of their own, apparently with treason, when there finally was action?

She certainly didn’t believe it was treason—not Medith, of all of them—but she wouldn’t push them to talk about it, especially not with the presence of the silent nudging soldier hovering behind her.

Do you think he’s there to guard you, or guard against you?

“You brought a friend.” Sammer jutted his chin out, commenting on the soldier at the same moment Bee spoke.

Jeena made a noise in her throat—Talinn didn’t know her well enough to parse if it were meant to be an uncomfortable laugh or sarcastic grunt or something else entirely. Was Jeena also annoyed by the other unadapted human? The tech was in a far better position to get the soldier out of here, compared to the current situation of the Eights . . . 

Or was she? Was Jeena . . . had the tech put herself on the line to allow the Eights space with their AI partners safe and close? Offering some measure of protection, the way she had by shielding Bee’s alleged discrepancy?

Or was Talinn leaping at hope of allies, jumping to the wrong assumptions in the interest of not assuming . . . her thoughts snarled until Bee chided her and let her feel the edge of the pounding headache Bee had been muzzling.

“He doesn’t speak, far as I can tell. Only elbows.” Talinn shrugged, then lifted her palm and curled her fingers in. Sorry, the gesture offered, part of their class’s silent communication from early training days.

“Interesting communication choice for a soldier.” Sammer tapped her hand in acceptance, then proceeded to follow Jeena’s lead and mostly ignore the other man. “Anything helpful on patrol?”

“Helpful is a strong word.” None of them wanted to talk about anything real, not with the nameless, faceless soldier, the odd surroundings, the compilation of events over the last few days. Had Command been remotely trustworthy, she would have at least mentioned their wonky sensors, but that would likely be taken as further evidence for suspicion, and she tamped it down.

Talinn tilted her head toward Xenni, but she’d lapsed into a new low conversation with Daren, foreheads close together, so she focused fully on Sammer. “Have you seen Medith?”

“No.” Sammer’s mouth remained open, as though he were about to say more. Nothing followed, and he snapped it closed.

“She’s in a more secure area.” The solider finally spoke, and Talinn barely bit back the curse that immediately formed in her mouth at the recognizable voice.

“Are you saying you’re not keeping your Eights secure, Base Two?” she asked instead, a sour heat twisting in her gut.

Jeena goggled, her gaze dropping to where Base Two’s insignia were obviously not attached to his armored suit. The man’s shoulders twitched, and when he pulled off his helmet and face cover, Talinn nearly cursed a second time.

If the base-support Eights had been dragged through a shitstorm in an open ship since she’d last seen them, Base Two had been staked out in it. His pale skin had paled further, his close-cut hair lay too close and shiny to his head, and the shadows under his eyes nearly reached his cheekbones.

“Did you see her?” He met Talinn’s eyes straight on, and this time all the self-discipline in the world couldn’t stop the low curse that spilled out of her.

Not Sammer. Not Jeena. Base Two knows? The shock that poured from Bee matched her own, and Talinn cast for a safe answer while Jeena and Sammer wrote “Who?” all over their faces.

“Or he’s angling. Is it a guess? Word passed down from Command?”

“Out loud for the whole class, Reaze.” Base Two crossed his arms, though he shifted an elbow toward her as though he were about to nudge her. He could not be hearing her conversation with Bee.

Could he?

“Bee and I are trying to figure out your deal.” It was a weak redirection attempt, but for once something awful was in her favor.

Alarms shrieked through the air.


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