CHAPTER 27 KORI #2
I take a slow, shuddering breath that makes my ribs rattle.
Undeniably, Jelza regrets her involvement in the Evolution Project.
I wish I could peer into her mind now. Together, surely we could take on Ednit and his twin enforcers.
In fact, this might be our best chance at interrogating Ednit without being immediately seen and reported by someone else.
But it comes down to if I trust Jelza, and if Jelza can find it in her heart to trust me—the daughter of the woman who stole her body, manipulating Jelza’s life to her own selfish ends.
Quickly, I glance around Jelza’s home for something, anything else that could give me insight into this woman.
How to convince her I am nothing like my mother.
How to convince here I’m here to help, and willing to take up arms to stop Chloe’s manipulation from ruining (or altogether ending) anyone else’s lives.
Most of the home is gorgeous, albeit standard for dayfolk elites. Real marble countertops, a shining silver sink, the mahogany kitchen table and chairs, and actual kitchen appliances like a stovetop, oven, and microwave, since better-off dayfolk can actually afford to buy and
cook raw ingredients, rather than subsisting entirely on standardized government rations. None of that tells me anything about who Jelza is, only that volunteering for the Evolution Project rewarded her with more than most will ever have.
The fridge, though. Magnets pin haphazard papers all over it, scribbled with bursts of vivid color that have no respect whatsoever for staying inside the lines. Coloring pages, clearly done by a child—ugly as anything, but displayed with undeniable pride. And between those coloring pages, photos.
A printed sonogram, all deep blacks and blues. On the top left corner, Dawn written neatly in ink; on the bottom left, IVF Round 7.
An infant, swaddled in a simple blanket. Jelza cradles the child with one arm, apparently having taken the photograph with the other.
Last but not least, something seemingly more recent: Jelza and a little girl who’s her spitting image—deep-brown skin, beautiful braids woven with pink and purple beads, and brown eyes bright with innocent joy.
At the frame’s edge, Jelza holds a sparkly pink backpack aloft, sporting a goofy smile that Dawn enthusiastically mirrors.
Scribbled in the photo’s corner: Starting Second Grade.
Dawn is my best shot at convincing Jelza that I’m on her side, the side of the ordinary people with ordinary families who don’t want needless war.
But if Jelza doesn’t believe me … or if she’s ultimately loyal to my mother, and this entire plan indicates a malfunction in my synthetic brain …
what wouldn’t a loving mother do for her daughter?
If Ednit and his guards don’t unceremoniously execute me here, might Jelza do it herself?
If a stranger threatened Aspect, I would do the exact same.
“Aspect,” I breathe shakily.
The mech pivots to hold my gaze. “Yes, Kori?”
“If this goes badly …” I click the trigger on the side of my helmet, causing it to collapse down to a thin ring at my neck, unveiling my head. “Tell Adria I went down fighting.”
Breath caught in my throat, pulse roaring through my bloodstream, I extend two gloved fingers and lightly, just barely, tap the glass of Jelza’s window.
Ednit and the enforcers remain too focused on their charge to notice.
They’ve circled Jelza’s chair halfway, so now their backs are to the window, whereas Jelza is looking right at it.
Right at me. Her dark brown eyes dart to mine, fleeting but sharp, so that the others won’t notice.
Her lips press into a tight line. I can feel her rapidly judging the situation: What is the monarch’s daughter suddenly doing here, outside her window?
How am I possibly supposed to answer, in a moment’s time, without alerting Ednit and his guards? I track Jelza’s eyes as she considers the guards. Is this it? Has my entire plan blown to bits? She can’t turn me in, or this is the end of the line.
I press my palms together in the clearest possible indication of pleading, then point to the baby photo on the fridge.
Dawn, I try to mouth, the only word I know might engender some measure of tenuous trust. Dawn.
Again and again, dipping my pressed palms together in a gesture of exaggerated, desperate pleading.
If only she could see the mechanical reality of my seemingly human hands.
I’m like you, I scream inside my mind. I’m Evolved.
I must look like I’m on illicit substances.
I must look like a low-charge mech having a core-system malfunction.
There’s no chance this is going to work.
I’ve really done it this time—after all the impossible plans I’ve gotten away with, there’s no coming back from this one.
I’ve made my last gamble; I have nothing left to wager.
But Jelza has already looked away from me, determined not to cue the enforcers into what’s happening at the window. “Forgive me, Doctor,” she says, pinning him in place with the sheer force of her gaze. “But I can’t believe I was granted this new body just for you to drag it about like a dog.”
Ednit groans, like a man whose unruly toddler threw a tantrum over their rations. “I could have your old body incinerated by next sleep
cycle’s end. And you’d have no one but yourself to blame. All because you wouldn’t cooperate with a simple request, to assist in locating the monarch’s daughter—”
Jelza leans forward, hands pressed together in her lap. “How does one lose a daughter, sir?” As soon as the words leave her mouth, I see the barest flash of panic cross her face at what she’s done, but it’s too late to take it back.
Even as one enforcer readies his heatshot rifle, a second enforcer hauls Jelza upright by the back of her shirt. “Would you like to find out?” he spits.
Ednit stammers like a recording cutting in and out. “Stop, stop, that won’t be necessary … Do you know how much paperwork—?”
“We’re here on the monarch’s orders.” The enforcer doesn’t even loosen his grip on Jelza’s collar. “Not yours.”
Jelza’s eyes brim with barely repressed tears. Her voice balances delicately on a wire. “Please don’t do this. Not in front of—”
“I wonder where she is?” says the first enforcer, taking a step back from Jelza’s chair and pivoting …
toward the locked door. A shadow passes quickly through the light beneath it.
“What would she think about Mommy refusing to help the very people who gave her eternal life?” Heatshot rifle upraised, he stalks closer to the door. “Why don’t we ask her?”
Jelza screams. The second enforcer still has her by the collar, but she’s thrashing, kicking, her chair sliding across the floor.
Ednit is full-blown shouting now, too, something about how this isn’t protocol, they can talk about this, but everything has rapidly escalated well beyond words or mimed signals through a windowpane.
And Aspect recognizes this in the same instant I do.
Sprinting out of the shrubbery, Aspect throws their whole body headlong like a wrecking ball into the glass. Teeth gritted, trusty old heatshot pistol in hand, reactivating my helmet for maximum protection, I plunge through the scattering shards and into the fray.
The enforcers spin and open fire. In their panic, most of the shots miss, though several bounce off the edges of my armor, likely leaving mild burns beneath.
I hit the floor on one knee, pistol already raised and firing.
I land a direct hit on one enforcer’s thigh, below his protective vest, and he collapses, shouting, his rifle skidding across the room.
I catch it under my boot as I pivot to face the other enforcer.
He swears, aiming to shoot me directly in the face, but Jelza is already upon him, leaping from behind into a stranglehold.
The enforcer wheezes. He beats his arms wildly about, to no avail, until Jelza fires an electric shock from her palms, causing him to collapse, unconscious, in an unruly heap.
I wonder if my own Evolved body is programmed to do that.
Total violation of my autonomy should really come with some fancy gadgets, at least.
Everything happened so quickly that Ednit is still rising from the ground, confusedly glancing between one wounded, disarmed enforcer and another who’s unconscious.
The wounded enforcer seems to be finding his footing. Eyes narrowed with fury, he fumbles for a heatshot pistol at his belt.
“Jelza, cover your ears!” I shout, already clapping both gloved hands over my own.
Jelza obeys, unlike Ednit, who raises his gun to fire. For an instant I’m afraid my instruction is going to get her killed, but Aspect responds immediately, head raised high as they emit a horrible screech.
Ednit’s knees buckle. He collapses, writhing. The wounded enforcer, too, falls to all fours, gasping like a water creature thrust into open air.
I wait a long moment to be certain Aspect is done, then remove my palms from my ears, reassessing my surroundings.
Jelza drives the butt of the unconscious enforcer’s rifle into the conscious one’s head.
“You stay away from my daughter”—she slams the rifle into his skull one extra time, for good measure, even though he’s already out cold—“you son of a bitch.”
I lunge for Ednit, pressing the muzzle of my heatshot pistol firmly to his wrinkled forehead.
I always found his apparent age and experience comforting as my doctor.
But now I know that those wrinkles are an illusion carved into a new, ageless body.
How many sleep cycles has Ednit been alive? Tens of thousands? A million?
Aspect slides through the shattered glass to join us on the floor. They cross their arms, lightly nodding, apparently pleased with their handiwork.