Chapter 12 #4
Taylor emerged from the open hatch of Horizon, boots crunching on the broken asphalt.
Her uniform was neat, hair pulled tight, not a single mark on her, as if she’d finished a morning briefing and not run a high-risk support op.
She walked up to Dina Bell and, without a word, held out a small, sealed data drive. Dina took it.
Taylor’s voice was barely above a whisper, but I heard every word.
“This is everything I’ve collected since I joined him.
Technical data, sensor logs, the works. Anything he specifically asked me to hold back stayed off the drive.
As agreed. However, he may be open to negotiation for the more sensitive data. ”
Dina Bell accepted the drive and tucked it into a slot on her armor. “And the nano-healer for study?”
Taylor reached into a pouch at her belt and produced a single, silvered tube. She handed it over, then turned and walked straight toward the group of wounded without waiting for any thanks or further questions.
Dina watched her go, then looked at me. “You run a very tight ship, Captain.”
“Doing my best.” I looked at the robot infantry, then back at her. “You here to help, or just observe?”
She paused, expression unreadable. “For now, I am authorized to assist. My priorities will diverge if our objectives conflict.”
I nodded. “That’ll work. But if you get in my way, I’ll burn you and your toys.” It wasn’t a joke, but it wasn’t a threat either. It was a simple fact.
She gave the faintest flick of the mouth, almost a smile. “Understood.”
I smiled, if only to show I wasn’t trying to be a problem that none of us needed. “And Dina, it is good to see you are doing well.”
“You, as well, Captain,” she said before turning to the robots. I couldn’t hear what she said, but she immediately went to carrying crates out of the second aircraft.
The world started to move again. Heddy limped down the Horizon’s ramp, eyes wide but steady, no trace of fever or limp.
She’d been healed by Autumn’s dust, and now she was back, alive and bright.
She took one look at the battlefield, saw a woman from her old pack on the ground with a broken arm, and headed straight over. She didn’t wait for orders.
Joy and Akia, both half-covered in plaster dust, came out next.
Joy was running on pure adrenaline, her hair stuck to her face, eyes darting between the dead panther and the survivors.
Akia moved more slowly, scanning for threats.
When she saw me, she let out a sound that was half laugh, half relief.
“Alpha. You are alive.”
“Yeah. I hurt like hell, but I’m alive.”
Autumn reached the edge of the parking lot as the last of the sun dipped behind the mountain. She was still human-sized, still beautiful in a way that made the air tighten in my lungs, but her steps were unsteady. She’d flown here as fast as she could, and now she had nothing left.
She saw me and stopped cold.
Her eyes went wide. She took in the swelling around my left eye, the long bruise running down my side, the scrapes on both arms, and the way I was holding myself. Her hands came up to her mouth.
“My humanz…” Her voice was small. “You’re hurt.”
I walked the last few steps to her and stopped a foot away. The heat from the fight was gone, replaced by the chill of the channel wind.
“I’m still standing,” I said.
She didn’t answer. She reached out, carefully, and touched the unbruised side of my face with her fingertips like she needed to make sure I was solid. Then she stepped in, wrapped both arms around my waist, and pressed her forehead to my chest.
“You did it,” she whispered. “But look at you.”
I put a hand on the back of her head and held her there.
“Not alone,” I said.
Autumn reached for my hand and squeezed it with surprising strength.
We stood there together, looking at the twisted carcass of the panther, the lines of the black and green robot infantry, the battered edge of the Casino, and the survivors working to haul the wounded inside.
It wasn’t over. It wouldn’t be over for a long time.
But for tonight, we had won.
The string lights over the Casino buzzed to life as the sun vanished, filling the lot with a weird, low-wattage glow.
Horizon’s running lights flared, painting the battered parking lot and the smoking corpse of the robot cat in blue-white stripes.
On the other side, two V-22s spun their rotors, ready to leave or fight again.
Dina Bell stood by her tiltrotor, helmet under her arm, watching the scene like she was scoring a test run. I looked at her, and for a second, she met my eye. She nodded once.
Heddy dragged a wounded Ci Dyn girl toward the makeshift triage line. Taylor met them with a first-aid kit and a steady hand. The air was full of smoke, and the electric tang of victory, and it was all real.
Autumn leaned into me, her head on my shoulder, her hair tickling the side of my neck.
I didn’t let myself close my eyes, not even for a second. Not with the world as it was.
I looked at the blue glow fading from the horizon, at the blackened robot twitching on the tarmac, at the battered survivors working their way through another day.
Then I started toward the next casualty, because that’s what you do.
Because that’s what you are when you’re the Alpha, and everybody’s counting on you to make it through one more night.