“The rebellion has grown worse since Bilvane took over. Those security androids of his are cold, and people fear them. Citizens will not live in fear for long. They will fight back. If he doesn’t pull back his less savory methods of dealing with criminals, the Angels of Otmonzas will triple in size in five years—mark my words.”

—Chidron Aliart Lome, in a private correspondence to her friend, former Dyarch Utmul Gralarkigan

I didn’t think today could be more mind-numbing than yesterday.

Zaina stood behind the counter of Hobst Ralfert’s repair shop, drumming her fingers as time crawled by. The storefront was little more than three chairs, a plant, and the counter; a handful of commonly purchased parts were available on shelves behind her, but she couldn’t tell anyone what any of them did. Loud, ungodly noises came from the large garage behind the shop, where Hobst toiled away for hours on end without a break.

The shop didn’t get many customers, so she spent most of her day attending to random cleaning tasks. The few people she did interact with ended up taking their business elsewhere after disputes with Hobst.

He really is grumpy all the time.

She kept an eye on the clock. Only five minutes until closing. She winced as a metal, drill-like shrieking came from the back. He’s got to eat dinner, right? Or sleep—something?

The next four minutes passed excruciatingly slowly. After a micro-eternity, Hobst stepped through the garage doors, drying his hands on a towel.

“Looks about time to close,” he said. “You already sweep and mop?”

She nodded. “Wiped everything down, too.”

He grunted his approval. “All right. You want me to drop you off at the good sister’s? I’m headed to the shipyard. Gonna see if I can’t get those missiles out.”

Zaina raised her hands. “No, I think it’s close enough that I can manage it. Do you ever sleep, old man?”

“Not when there’s work to do. I’ll close up in a bit, I want to get a little more work done here before I head out. Be safe, Zaina.”

“I will. Thank you, Hobst. See you same time tomorrow?”

“Same time, sharp,” he said, then held the door open for her. Zaina stepped out into the open air of Otmonzas.

Okay. Sister Tyza’s is around that building, then I take the first left, and it’s straight from there. Not even a thing.

By now all the light in the sky was gone except for whatever glow-shows were being thrown on whichever rooftops. Zaina didn’t care at this point. Partying wasn’t the reason she was here. She made her way down the sidewalk, careful to avoid eye contact with strangers and to stay in the relative safety of the streetlights.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

The air was heavier and thicker than back home, and warmer, too; the city gave off a tremendous amount of heat. Zaina wanted nothing more than to be off Otmonzas for good.

The sooner I’m on my way, the better. But for now, I wonder what they’ve got at the buffet.

Her thoughts were interrupted by an ear-splitting pop—she flinched, then turned. It came from a darkened alleyway behind her.

A young woman’s voice rang out: “No, no, no, no!”

No one else was even flinching—just walking a little faster to get away. Zaina’s fists clenched. It’s probably more of those security androids. Her gaze fell to her shaking hands. What would a lancer do?

Zaina ran toward the noise, stooping to pick up a rusty pipe. She dashed around the corner.

I hate being right.

Five androids, identical to the ones she’d tangled with before, surrounded a fallen human woman. Their birifles were all trained at her head, and one was pulling out handcuffs.

“Hey!” Zaina tightened her grip on the pipe. “Gears-for-brains! Why don’t you all fuck off?”

The androids turned. The closest one emitted a low hum and aimed its birifle at Zaina. Then, in a low, raspy robotic voice, it said, “Citizen. Do not interfere.”

“Or what?”

“Citizen, if you are assessed to be a threat, you will be eliminated.”

Without another word, Zaina leaped forward and lodged the pipe in the closest android’s head. The others turned toward her—she grabbed the first bot’s birifle and swatted their guns aside.

Zaina bashed one’s head, then dashed aside—the last three had already recovered. Pops mixed in with the loud club music, but the aim of their first salvo was off. Scraps whizzed past her back. She glanced over at the androids—

Her foot caught on a grate, and Zaina spilled onto her face. There wasn’t enough time to stand—she raised a hand as the security androids adjusted their aim. Her eyes closed, anticipating the end. There wasn’t even time to process it.

She winced as another round of pops broke off—it had to be nine or ten. There was no pain, no heat—not even an impact. Only the sound of machines breaking apart.

An eye peeked open—the androids, punctured with holes and missing large pieces, fell to the ground. The human girl had grabbed one of their birifles—she knelt with it jammed against her shoulder, taking deep breaths.

The young woman intrigued Zaina; she had long yellow hair with streaks of bright pink, and vibrant green eyes lined with red eyeshadow. Her skin was pale and smooth. She wore gray torso armor with a segmented pauldron covering her left shoulder. Beneath that was a white, collared blouse. Her scaled-metal belt held twin scrapshot pistols and a number of other devices Zaina didn’t recognize. The woman had a single knee pad, but only her dark blue pant sleeve covered the other. Black combat boots covered her feet.

The young woman tossed the birifle aside and stood. “Thanks for the save.”

“Yeah,” Zaina said, unsure of what to make of the stranger. “No problem.”

The young woman smiled. “Takes some balls to jump into a fight like that. But to do it for someone you don’t even know—that takes heart. And I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, but you’re fast.”

Warmth rushed to Zaina’s cheeks. She averted her gaze. “Well, you know—I’m going to be a lancer, so—”

“A lancer? With skills like that? Why waste your energy when the whole galaxy’s yours for the taking?”

“I—oh, I don’t know. I—I guess I want to be a hero. It’s silly, I know.”

The young woman chuckled. “Not at all. Come on—we should probably get out of here before any more friends show up. I know a spot we can go.”

Zaina wondered if she’d be able to make it home if she went out of her way—this planet was one big city, and it was built like a maze. Still, she liked this woman’s energy.

“Okay,” Zaina said, smiling, “lead the way.”