CHAPTER 39 - SABRA

Sabra had been to Asclepion Airport only once before. When she’d been a kid and her dad had taken her to Japan, and she’d spent three days visiting temples and eating sushi and pretending to be a samurai. This time, as she hopped out of the SUV, Sabra had the strange double-awareness that this was the last time she’d stand upon her island home.

It was a buzzing behind her eyes, an itching in her gums. Bars of a half-remembered tune. She knew she had to say goodbye to her parents, but she didn’t want to take the Animals to her home. She knew she should call them, but she didn’t know what to say. Hey mama, guess what, I’m teaming up with the man who shot papa! I am because you are, right?

Beyond the security fence, the airport had all the energy of a graveyard. Not many planes came to Asclepion anymore. The Collapse had killed air travel and what little there was now didn’t need to make many trips to the middle of nowhere. It was a reminder that the city she lived in, and everyone who lived in it, was nothing but an afterthought to the rest of the world.

That helped somewhat.

Revenant stepped out of the driver’s seat and came around the front of the car. The golden inlays of her eyes glimmered beneath her hood.

“So, what’s the plan?” Sabra asked.

“There’s an aeroshuttle in the second hangar,” Revenant replied. “I thought you might want to take it for a joyride.”

“I’m not in a laughing mood. Aren’t you worried that those two might take off in the car?”

“I disabled the power supply. More importantly, I explained the situation to them when I broke them out of holding.”

Sabra crossed her arms, glancing behind her.

“I don’t trust them.”

“Good,” Revenant said, “you shouldn’t.”

“You want me to keep an eye on them?”

“No,” she replied. “I might need a lookout. Come on.”

Revenant marched towards the fence, and Sabra followed a pace or two behind. There was a flash of golden light, the sound of metal on metal, and then there was a hole in the fence and molten metal dripping over the ground. Revenant bent the gap wider.

“After you,” she said.

Sabra ducked through, and Revenant followed. “Hangar Two,” she said, and pointed the way. “We’re looking for an aeroshuttle with the registration DX712.”

“I don’t get why you came back.”

“Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Kasembe.”

What would they do if they got caught? It was all Sabra could think as Revenant led the way to the hangar. Would she really throw down, beat up people who were just doing their jobs? Would Revenant? If Fisher was right, SOLAR wouldn’t intervene—but they weren’t going to assist, either.

The hangar was lit with halogen intensity. Several triangular aeroshuttles sat in a neat line. Revenant had already tracked down DX712, the numbers emblazoned on the closest side of the craft. And, Sabra noted, so was the Dynamic Horizons suncog.

“Huh,” Sabra said. “Ironic.”

“I’m aware,” Revenant replied.

“You got on my ass about a battery, and now we’re going to steal a plane?”

“I have not mentioned the battery once tonight,” Revenant said as she triggered the loading ramp to lower. “My father will understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Sabra said, “Your what?”

Without a word, Revenant stepped up the ramp and into the shuttle proper. “Wait, hang on,” Sabra said, following. “If your dad owns this shuttle, why the hell are we stealing it?”

“Because I don’t wish to implicate anyone beyond the people I absolutely have to.”

Revenant went straight for the cockpit. Sabra followed, trying to work it out. It explained why she had been so quick to respond on that fateful night, and why she had such a chip on her shoulder about it. But she was new to Asclepion, too—what was she, some rich heiress playing vigilante?

There were two seats in the cockpit. Revenant settled into the left seat and Sabra, for lack of anything else to do, slipped into the right. There were so many buttons and toggles and displays. She very badly wanted to touch them.

“Don’t touch anything, Kasembe,” Revenant said.

Her cheeks warmed. “What, you can read my mind, too?”

“You are not exactly opaque.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Revenant crossed one leg over the other as she studied the controls. Her gleaming black jetboots, angular and armored, were scratched and marred in places. There were diagonal hazard stripes at her knee and ankle and bright red markings at her heel. WARNING, the markings said of the vectored thruster there, EXHAUST.

“Are you looking at my legs, Kasembe?”

Heat rose across Sabra’s cheeks. “Your boots, actually.”

“My legs, then.”

That heat intensified, but from a different cause. “Oh, I’m sorry—I didn’t know. And I didn’t think prosthetics came in such heavy-duty setups. Did the hazard stripes come standard?”

“They’re as prosthetic as the rest of me,” Revenant replied.

Sabra blinked.

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“Huh?”

Revenant took her eyes off the controls and caught Sabra with her golden gaze. “I’m a robot, Kasembe.”

Was it a joke? Sabra’s mind hitched. “But,” she said. “But you— You’re so—”

“Don’t say human.”

“Personable.”

“I’m really not,” Revenant replied. “But thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sabra said. And then, unsure of what else to say, “Sorry for breaking your foot, then.”

“Don’t mention it.”

What were you supposed to say to such an admission? Hadn’t the IESA banned all forms of artificial life, or was she misremembering history class? Maybe if she hadn’t slept through some of them, she could’ve known whether it was a joke or a lie or a sign of insanity. Or said something impressive. She busied herself with examining her hands. She’d cut her knuckles when she popped Leopard in the face.

“So,” Sabra said, “you can fly this thing?”

The cockpit lit up and came to life.

“I can now,” Revenant said.

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Ten minutes later, Fisher arrived in a garish armorweave suit that made Sabra’s jaw drop—and not in the good way. Five minutes after that, Leopard and Tiger (Sabra wouldn’t call them Jack and Sam, not yet, not ever) had finished loading the cargo hold with everything they’d need to hunt Monkey down—weapons and supplies, Sabra knew. She didn’t even have her armor anymore. All she had was a busted helmet and a change of clothes.

Sabra pressed her cheek against the starboard window and watched the lights of Asclepion recede into the distance, all alone in the night. Everything she had ever known was receding away behind her. There was anxiety in her gut, and apprehension—but anticipation, too.

“You okay, Sabra?” Fisher asked, setting his cat carrier on the seat opposite. Octopus peered out at her through the bars of kitty-cat jail.

“Guess so,” she replied. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. I should’ve called my mom.”

“You still can.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Maybe.”

“We’ll be hitting supersonic flight in ten minutes,” Revenant said from the cockpit. “We will arrive at the Perth Transfer Point in approximately four hours.”

“I’ve heard stories about this null zone thing,” Sabra said. “Do you know anything about it?”

“Not much,” Fisher replied. “It happened after I threw in the cape. I think about three years back, two of the Seven got into a fight. One of them did something to cut off a chunk of the planet from the outside world.”

“One thousand six-hundred and eighteen kilometers in diameter, to be precise,” Revenant said as she stepped out of the cockpit.

“They say nothing can penetrate it,” Fisher said. “No sensors, no transmissions, no empowered ability—nothing. Technically, it’s a class-3 restricted area but a lot of people think of it like a sanctuary.”

“Sounds like a good place to hide,” Sabra said.

“I’ve heard it’s positively idyllic.”

“Sure, if you can handle having no contact with anything or anyone outside it. What price, security?”

Fisher snorted, then lowered his voice: “Speaking of security, I’m not sure about Leopard.”

“Me either,” Sabra said. “But I hate to say it, we’re going to need to trust him—them.” The thought was like vomiting. Horrible, wretched, and sometimes necessary.

“Like, if you’re on the court, you can’t afford to throw the game because you had an argument with someone on your team. If we’re going to take out this Monkey guy, we’re going to have to trust them. Not like them,” Sabra added, as much for herself as for Fisher, “but trust them.”

It was funny, really. She thought of her father. Once, she’d asked him about evil. Back then, she hadn’t been aware of structures. But he had just nodded and did not, as he usually did, smile. “No one is born evil,” he had said. “Genuine evil is rare in the world, but it is difficult to separate it from people who are just... mistaken. And we must be kind to all of them, Sabra, because the world hasn’t been.”

But where had that gotten him? Leopard had emptied his magazine into him without blinking. But why had he turned out that way? He’d been a kid too, once, right? If she had been in his circumstances, would she have become a dead-eyed killer, too?

“We should get a team name,” Sabra said.

“Like what?” Fisher asked.

“I don’t know.” There were far too many to choose, and you had to pick just the right one.

“What we need,” Tiger said, from behind, “is a cover story.”

“Wouldn’t hurt,” Sabra replied.

“It won’t hold up if we get caught,” Fisher said.

“Ain’t supposed to hold up if we get caught,” Tiger said, moving through the cabin. She settled in the seat next to Octopus. “Hey, kitty,” she said, then turned her attention back to the two of them. “It’s to prevent people from asking too many questions.”

Sabra glanced around for Revenant, but didn’t see her. Must’ve returned to the cockpit. The fact she could move so quietly was disconcerting.

“Okay,” Sabra said.

“How about this,” Tiger continued, pointing to Fisher. “You and me, we’re married parents. The kid is our idiot son.”

“Hey,” Leopard put in, from somewhere further behind Sabra.

“I like it so far,” Sabra said.

Tiger grinned toothily. “As for you and our spooky pilot, well, I figure we can say we adopted the two of you. Been more than enough disasters across Asia and Africa, hey?” Her eyes locked on Sabra. “You think you can pretend not to speak English?”

Fisher rubbed his mechanical fingers into his temples. “Look, Sam—I’m gay.”

That grin only broadened. “Well, perfect! Won’t be the first time I’ve had a husband who isn’t attracted to me.”

Fisher shook his head. Something began to throb behind Sabra’s nose and eyes.

“Hey,” she said. “Am I the only one getting a headache?”

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She tried to sleep it off, but something about air travel made it impossible—or perhaps it was the fear of the ash and blood and screams. The headache bloomed slowly throughout her head until, as they descended towards Western Australia, it was like she had been sucker punched.

“Christ, Sabra,” Fisher said, “you look like shit.”

She clutched at her face, one hand pressed to her nose, another clamped against her temple. She could feel each droplet of sweat that beaded across her forehead. But she forced a winning smile to her face and said, “And I still look better than you.”

Fisher frowned.

“Do you think it’s related to this null field?” Sabra asked.

“I doubt that,” he said. “But relax, we won’t be crossing it in this craft—aircraft have a habit of dropping out of the sky when they hit the field.”

“That makes me feel so much better.”

Revenant emerged from the cockpit again. “We’re on final descent now. I’ve prepared a fake manifest and forwarded fake identification to the local authorities. What’s wrong with Kasembe?”

“Don’t ask me,” Fisher said.

“My head hurts,” Sabra said, gritting her teeth. Sweat dripped down along her nose. “It’s like someone stabbed me in the face. I’m dying.” It was like it was getting worse.

Revenant reached out and grabbed her by the jaw, tilted her head up to look at her, so obviously aware of those gunmetal eyes and her imperious bearing.

Sabra swallowed.

“Aerosinitus,” she said. “You’ll live, Kasembe.”

“What’s the plan once we’ve landed?” Fisher asked.

Sabra groaned. “Why do you keep asking me like this wasn’t your stupid idea?”

Fisher chuckled, like it was funny. “My circus, my monkeys,” he said, seemingly to himself. “We’ll need somewhere to stay, somewhere we can operate without people looking over our shoulder.”

Someone racked a shotgun behind them. “Oh, don’t worry, husband,” Tiger said. “I’ve always wanted to go house-shopping.”