“While using androids for security and law enforcement may be tempting, we should not be too quick to adopt the practice; that, according to all Synatorium doctrines, is for the planets to decide. I will say, though, that I fear the day when cold, lifeless machines are responsible for the dispensation of justice. Life, with all its complexities and constraints, cannot be calculated into an algorithm.”

—Judge Erihal Farbairn, in a memo regarding a proposal to create an intergalactic police force of androids

A scrap bead whizzed an inch from Zaina’s face—two others grazed her torso, glancing off her armor. Her ears rang and her sides stung like hell as she spilled behind the arch across the hall. More beads pinged off the wall covering her, ricocheting back into the corridor’s lengthy mass of archways and doors.

Zaina peeked out—she counted five androids remaining before a bead zipped too close. She ducked back to safety. Reida was popping out every now and again to fire off bolts with her phase cycler. Every time she did, a hail of scrap beads forced her back behind cover.

Tightly gripping the scrapshot with both hands, Zaina dropped to one knee and poked enough of herself out to get a shot off. The gun was lighter than what she was used to and had a little more buck than her father’s, but it was still a scrapshot. The bead lodged into one of the android’s heads—it snapped back, and the robot stumbled before resuming its advance.

There wasn’t time to fire another shot—Zaina hurried back to cover, barely avoiding an incoming salvo of scraps. Cracking shrieks broke out from behind. She glanced toward Reida, who let off a salvo. Zaina heard two distinct impacts and clatters and hoped that meant two hits. The enemy fire shifted back to Reida.

Zaina leaned over to get a better view—three androids left, all approaching. One of them turned toward her. With a yelp, Zaina pulled back before a scrap bead flew past. Reida tried to jump out, but the other two androids were still focused on her—she dove back to safety a moment too late. Her left shoulder jerked and she croaked a pained yelp while diving behind cover.

“Reida!”

Holding her shoulder and scrambling against the wall, Reida shouted, “Focus! Focus!”

Zaina nodded. The jumbled footsteps of the androids were audible now—they were coming in fast. Closing her eyes, Zaina willed her mind to come up with something—anything—to not die here.

A grunt came from behind—more pops rang out, three separate salvos; there was a short scream, the sound of scrap beads sinking into flesh, and a muffled thud.

Reida tossed a grenade and shouted, “Duck!”

Zaina didn’t need much convincing; she closed her eyes and stayed behind cover.

The boom rang out before she had time to react. Ringing filled her ears. When her hearing returned, she noticed no more commotion, and she stood and peeked around the corner. All that remained of the enemy androids were smoldering piles of metal spewing plumes of smoke into the hallway.

She turned back and gasped. Ilstevor’s bloody body had collapsed into the middle of the hallway. Blood spilled from dozens of scrap wounds, forming a pool beneath his motionless, mangled form.

“It’s over,” Reida said happily. “We make a good team, you know that?”

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Staring at Ilstevor’s body, Zaina felt anything but good. “What—what happened to him?”

Reida shrugged. “Guess he wanted to make a run for it. These androids don’t discriminate, though—he should have known that better than anyone.”

“Yeah,” Zaina said, grimacing. “You’d think.”

But he warned us not to peek out—why would he make a run for it?

“Come on, now. Let’s get a move on before anyone else shows up to the party.”

“But what about the elevator? How are we going to use it now?”

“Well,” Reida replied with a smirk, “we only need one piece of him.”

Zaina’s heart sank. “No way. No—this is too much, even for—even for whatever the fuck this whole mission has been.”

Still holding her shoulder, Reida kicked his arm so it was splayed out and asked, “You have a better idea?”

Despite Zaina’s hesitance, there was no other way—aside from dragging the man’s corpse to the elevator.

I honestly don’t know which is worse.

Reida seized the silence, pulling her scrapshot out. “That’s what I thought. Now are you going to help, or am I going to have to do all the work?”

Without responding, Zaina turned away. Reida sighed and said, “I really have to do everything, huh? Fine.” She chuckled. “At least I get two tries, I guess.”

Zaina held her tongue again. Sputtering pops echoed through the chamber. Zaina flinched, her eyes jammed shut, and she winced. Within ten seconds the shooting stopped and she turned to face Reida, who was holding the hand of Ilstevor’s bloody stump of an arm. Strips of bloodied, charred skin hung freely from its point of severance, which was minced to a pulp—it spilled gray blood along with chunks of flesh to the floor, leaving a trail behind it.

“You ready?” Reida asked. “Can you at least carry this thing?”

Before Zaina could answer, Reida swung the haphazardly severed arm against her chest. Zaina yelped but caught it. Blood splashed over her torso and arms.

“Hey, look at the bright side,” Reida said. “Now we don’t have to worry about killing him, right? They did it for us. That’s good news.”

With that, she turned and started toward the elevator terminal. Zaina stayed behind, frozen in place. Her gaze lingered on Ilstevor’s bloodied face; his four remaining eyes were open wide in permanent horror. Not the expression of a person “making a break for it,” as Reida had put it.

She pushed him. She had to have.

She glanced at Reida, who was twenty feet ahead. There were two Reidas—one funny and nice, and the other cold and indifferent. Zaina didn’t know which side of her was more dangerous.

Reida stopped and turned around. “You coming?”

The words struck Zaina like a scrap bead, making her flinch. “Uh—oh, yeah.”

She trotted up to Reida and slowed down to match her pace. She held her shoulder—blood was soaking through and streaming down the front of her armor.

“Are you—? Maybe we should stop.”

“No,” Reida replied, shaking her head, “I’ll do what I need to do in the elevator. There’ll be time. But out here—no. Reinforcements are already coming, I’ll bet. We have to keep moving.”

Zaina nodded and kept walking. Try as she might, the questions in her mind couldn’t be pushed aside. She didn’t want to focus on the bleeding arm she was holding, but couldn’t stop glancing down every few seconds. This whole thing was turning out worse than she ever imagined.

I didn’t think revolutions were this ugly.

Reida stumbled, so Zaina tucked the arm under one of hers, ducked beneath her shoulder, and wrapped Reida’s arm around her. The elevator, a massive metal door split horizontally at its center, loomed at the nexus of a wide-open space. More black metal, same as the archways, surrounded the elevator from all sides, extending upward to meet the ceiling.

Reida stepped back. Zaina fumbled the arm and dropped it, then picked it up, wiped the bloody palm on her pants, and pressed it against the vis-screen embedded into the black metal.

A circular icon on the vis-screen flashed green, and the doors opened outward—the top swung upward while the bottom fell forward, forming a makeshift ramp. Reida went in first and sat down, leaning her back against the metal wall. Zaina picked up the arm and followed.

There was another vis-screen inside, so Zaina activated that one, too. Another green light—then a new screen popped up with a directory of the entire building written in extremely small print.

A soft, robotic voice came from the vis-screen. “Hello, Ilstevor. This building is currently on lockdown. Elevator use is restricted due to structural damage to the lower building. Please re-scan in case of an emergency override.”

Zaina pushed the palm against the screen again. The voice asked, “Hello, Ilstevor. Emergency elevator access granted. Where would you like to go?”

“The basement,” Reida said.