66. RebelHeart
RebelHeart
Playlist: Holographic Heart - Gunship, Britta Phillips
Kael
“Where’s the whiskey?” I burst through the doors to the open terrace where the night air is cooler and safer...or so it seems.
“On it.” Ember heads to the bar; Lyra follows close behind, her holo-form flickering softly under the candlelight, catching every pair of eyes as she passes.
With Ash in tow, I pace the terrace balcony. “You people are going to make me insane before the age of thirty.” My hands find my pockets because they have nothing to do but strangle my friends.
“Yes, but we’re your people so you’re stuck with us. Next time,” Ash mutters under his breath, “you’re programming a feature where she punches people for calling her it. That’ll clear the room fast.”
I half-smile, and rub my temples; the elites inside are positively stifling, the city air out here isn’t much better. “Next time, we won’t be standing in a room full of monsters pretending to be humans.”
Before Ash can respond, the low noise of the crowd drops again.
A ripple moves through the guests like an ocean wave and the sound of glasses and dishes falter.
The double doors at the end of the ballroom open, revealing Vikktor, accompanied by his private security detail.
Two towering figures draped in matte-black armored suits, half-human, half-machine, faces covered by high-tech carbon fiber masks.
Every candle wants to dim as he walks in. The crowd parts, conditioned by fear, not respect.
I straighten. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Inside, I’m hoping that Lyra stays at the bar with Ember. Now is not the time for inspection.
A whiskey is shoved in my face violently, and I feel Lyra loop her arm in mine.
Perfect. Just perfect.
He makes a beeline for me. “Dr. Ryudon,” Vikktor’s voice cuts through the night air. His icy stare penetrates my defenses. “I see you brought your PleazureHolo prototype.” His eyes slide over Lyra, assessing, but also admiring.
Pervert. I’ll stab his eyes out.
“So, this is the little toy that you’ve been playing with on my dime.” His steel gray eyes look over her. “She’s exquisite. Even more refined than your report suggested.” He goes to touch her, but she slides behind me. Vikktor flinches but ends up running his fingers down her arm.
He raises his eyebrows. “She looks and feels...almost too alive.” He cups his chin, pondering. “Curious to see how she sounds performing her duties.”
Never fucking happening.
A cacophony of laughs burst from the mindless suits on each side of him, their insincerity so thick, so desperate, for any kernel of validation from Vikktor. Pathetic.
Lyra’s holo-flickers once, her magic building, beginning to affect the feed.
“I assure you, when I pleasure Dr. Ryudon, I sound very human.” I hate that she has to slip into the PleazureHolo role, but she’s standing on her own to Vikktor.
A quality I have to admire, though it could get us both in hot water.
“Yes. More human, and that’s the whole point, isn’t it, sir?
” I correct him; my tone is undisturbed but underneath my own magic is pulsing faintly from his sexist remark.
“Just think how many more units we can sell a year if men actually feel as if they’re with a realistic human woman.
One that looks, feels, and sounds just like the real thing. ”
Vikktor’s smile is cold and robotic, but he knows I’m speaking his universal language of dollars.
“Semantics,” he says. “Alive is...a stretch for a hologram.” He circles us slowly, his shoes clicking against the black marble.
If I said the sky was blue, this man would say it’s red just to put me in my place.
“You’ve exceeded expectations, Kael. Congratulations, I’ll be rewarding you handsomely for the effort. Though I can’t help but wonder, how much of this brilliance is truly yours?”
Shit. He suspects something. Ash subtly shifts closer to Ember’s side, one hand sliding around her waist nervously.
Ember interjects, her voice smooth and steady. “Every line of code, every render, every neuron map is Dr. Ryudon’s, Father. As always. I can vouch for him. He’s spent many nights with the prototype.” She grins at Ash. The wine is definitely going to Ember’s head quickly.
Vikktor’s eyes narrow. “Of course. Still, I’ve noticed some anomalies in the data stream. Curious signatures. Almost...magical.” He hovers the way a monster does before he devours.
Lyra’s breath catches, her eyes darting to me.
“Residual data interference, sir,” I reply without hesitation. “The VoidChanneler caused some ripples we’re still tracing throughout the system. But Ember has it under control.”
“Hmm.” Vikktor tilts his head, studying his daughter. His eyes bore into her, looking for a flaw. He looks Ash up and down with severe disapproval. “Perhaps...or perhaps you’ve been playing god in my system again, Kael. What say you?”
I say nothing at first but still meet his gaze. “You mean the system I built for you. Someone has to or you wouldn’t be revealing your Cyberforce here tonight, now would you, sir?”
For a heartbeat, not one of us breathes. The candles on the terrace waver as a robot whirs by cleaning up drinks. Vikktor’s half-smile returns. “Be careful what gods you challenge, Dr. Ryudon. Creation has a way of consuming its creator.”
He turns, motioning to the stage where the heavy curtain trembles in the rising wind from the open skylights. “Drink up, Doctor. In an hour we shall show them what evolution truly looks like.”
Lyra’s hand finds mine, her pulse a drum. Both our magics respond, entwining and flaring as we watch Vikktor stroll away. I feel my veins warming.
Ash mutters just loud enough for all of us to hear, “I’m gonna need massive bouts of therapy after that.”
Ember doesn’t smile. “You can join my sessions.” She tosses back an entire cocktail.
“Ummm, do we have a problem?” Ash motions to the bar, where I see the one and only rebel leader, looking too comfortable while subjecting himself to this viper’s den.
I kick back the glass of whiskey in one shot. “Give me a second. I’m not drunk enough to deal with this yet.”
Jett’s leaning against the bar, his black suit immaculate, impossible to miss. He tips his flute of champagne back, revealing a gray vest tailored close to the line of his ribs. His tie is knotted tightly, his hair unkempt, just enough to suggest rebellion.
To the crowd, he’s just another elite investor, but to me, he looks like he belongs here and like he’s planning something. I can’t let that happen.
“He isn’t alone.” Lyra gives me a surprised look, motioning toward him with a nod.
His date stands beside him, hand curled lightly around a glass of champagne, laughing at something he said.
Her hair is long and dark, coiled over one shoulder.
A black dress hugs her curves down to her knees, accented in gold thread.
A red velvet train dangles behind her, as if to announce her arrival.
There’s something familiar about the way she moves, powerful, disciplined.
Her eyes, though. They don’t belong to this world.
They shine with the same storm I’ve seen behind my own, dark but with molten lava highlights.
Two dragon tattoos join from each shoulder in ink, black with crimson red orchids.
Jett’s gaze flicks up and locks on me for a moment. I swear the corner of his mouth curves upward, not in a smile, but daring me to approach them. A silent “I’m better than you, Kael.”
Ash looks confused at the message. “He’s either really stupid for showing up here or really freaking brilliant.”
I shake my head. “He’s good at playing both sides. But he better not be up to something, not tonight, not before the extraction. If he outs us, I will kill him with my bare hands.”
Ember materializes, carrying two more drinks and wearing a grin that tells me she has already had too much. “You two see Jett at the bar? He’s with a girl!” She hiccups and covers her mouth with her palm. Lyra steadies her wobbly friend.
“Looks like trouble wrapped in an expensive suit.” Ash tips back the glass. “We better motor.” He tips his head toward the exit.
“The world still revolves if you don’t talk.” Ember takes Ash’s face in her hand. “You do realize that, right?” The banter between them continues to ratchet up.
But this time, Ash doesn’t answer. His eyes have shifted, not to Jett, but to the woman with him. We both can’t stop looking at her, something familiar still pressing on my chest, a buried half-memory tries to break through unsuccessfully.
Ash leans in slightly toward me, his eyes telling me he’s going through the catalog in his brain as well. “She looks...oddly familiar.”
“Who is she?” I ask.
He doesn’t reply, just shakes his head.
Jett raises his glass from across the room, a subtle salute. His companion mirrors him, her lips parting in a knowing smile. For a heartbeat, my control slips, and my eyes flare. I dismiss it and look away nervously.
Ash huffs low under his breath. “Well, that’s new. Kael Ryudon actually rattled. Mark this date on your calendars, kids.”
Lyra folds her arms. “Whoever she is, she’s not just a date.” We all watch as the mystery woman drapes her arm around him and whispers into his ear. He responds with a nefarious grin. “They’re definitely up to something.”
My fingers tighten around my glass, the faint hum of restrained power running beneath it and zinging through my veins. “No, you’re right, she’s not. But she’s definitely U21. I think I can feel her magic.”
The cyber-orchestra swells behind them, their holographic forms flaring to the crescendo. Outside, the air twists, and a breeze kicks up, as if Jett is commanding the air we breathe.
“Fuck, he’s coming over here.” I turn and face away from the crowd, forcing my gaze to the eclipse beginning its slow crawl across the sky.
He’s wearing a sly grin when he stops in front of us. He scans Lyra slowly from head to toe. I recall the mental note from before. I still need to stab his eyes out.
“Lyra! You look absolutely breathtaking this evening,” he says, pouring on the rebellious charm. My mind wanders to the place where I shove him off the terrace, or maybe I should slit his throat with this glass. Both are viable options, along with the eye gouging, of course.
“You didn’t think I’d miss the city’s biggest masquerade, did you?” He takes a sip from the flute. “Relax, Ryudon, tonight, I’m just another bored rich man funding my fetishes.”
My jaw clamps. “You shouldn’t be here. Someone could recognize you.”
“Neither should you,” he says, eyes flicking toward Lyra again. “Especially with her looking like that, but I suppose we all have secrets to protect.”
Ash slips away from the terrace edge and rejoins us, his tone grave. “We’ve got another problem...outside.” He motions with a finger over the balcony.
“A problem...must be a weekday. What’s your point?” My sarcasm isn’t easily contained after two glasses of whiskey, and soon to be more if we don’t get out of here.
“U21s have gathered in the plaza. Peaceful, but barely.” Ember looks toward the stage, where Vikktor has CIC leaders gathering and whispering in his ear. “My father’s going to call for containment protocols soon.”
“Really, Navarre?” I turn toward him, invading his personal space.
Lyra looks from one of us to the other. “Containment protocols?”
Jett answers quietly: “Yes, really, Ryudon. What Vikktor calls crowd management is actually violence against basic human rights.” He shrugs it off, but the tension still spikes. “Nothing we haven’t seen before.”
A low tremor shakes the glass around us.
The gala crowd pauses, mistaking it for some type of music or planned effect.
Ember’s eyes dart to check the news feed on her DataLINK as she frantically pulls it out of her tiny purse, nothing but a screen enforcing the blackout period.
Security cams are still working, though, fed by hydrogen-fueled generators, much like the ones we use for the lab to keep the servers running without power.
“LINK, show me security cam footage of VikkCorp Plaza.” Her eyes widen as she holds the DataLINK out for us all to see. Hundreds of U21s fill the paved space, faces half-covered, banners pulsing with holographic light.
NO CORPORATIONS. NO ROBOTS. NO MORE CONTROL.
Lyra stares at the feed, voice trembling. “They’re going to slaughter them, aren’t they?”
Ember lowers her DataLINK. Concern fills her expression. “If they cross the barricade, my father will authorize a purge. He’s wanted a reason.”
Jett just smiles smugly. “Relax. My people know what they’re doing. They’re not here to start a war, just to remind the elite who they’re dealing with.”
“You’re playing a dangerous game, and on the eve of the extraction? What in the hell were you thinking, Jett?” My face is flush with anger.
“Oh, so it’s your game now? Aren’t we all just playing Vikktor’s game, Ryudon?” He takes another sip of his drink as he glances over at Lyra. “Though some of us play for higher stakes, like our humanity.”
Lyra meets his eyes. “You knew this was happening.”
He smirks. “You think revolutions schedule themselves, ‘Little Taiyō?’ ” He’s mocking me, and it hits its target with exact precision.
I push forward, chest-to-chest with him. “You don’t get to call her that,” I warn. “You’re risking Lyra for your cause. Of all times to do this, it had to be now?”
Jett leans in even more, as if daring me to throw a punch, voice low enough only I can hear.
“No, Kael. I risked you. The rebellion needs a target, someone besides the Corporation to blame, and right now, you’re it.
The fallen corporate architect. The man who built the machines that will hunt us down and kill us in the streets, only to turn against it all.
“Don’t!” I warn. “Not tonight. I’m not joining your stupid rebellion just because I have magic now.” Speaking of, it begins to build in my pupils, the golden-orange heat spreading outwards, flushing my face.
He smiles wider. “I’m not asking you to join us. Just to stop pretending you’re not one of us now.”