Chapter Twelve

Belema

 

Soon, Neith and I are giggling over nonsense as we munch on fruit, cheese, and crackers. It’s like old times when almost anything could spur us into endless cackles. We’d plot and plan our mischief and carry it through to the very end for our entertainment.

 

Then my dad made me do volunteer work in the Lesser Lands and I had less time for schemes and no time for silly games. Seeing how the less fortunate lived forced me to reevaluate much about myself and the life I was living. Looking back, I wish I had dragged Neith along on one of those trips to Hesperia or Toussaint. Had she seen the people in need of help, I have no doubt she’d think differently about Lesser Landers. If she had met Ray …

 

“Have you heard anything about Invier?” she asks. “I need to find him so we can announce our union. It will guarantee his nome’s alliance on the Phalanx and any other issues that may arise.”

 

And just like that, the laughter dies in my throat.

 

I keep my expression light and toss an apple slice into my mouth, taking as much time as possible to chew. “No,” I say, tucking one of my stray curls behind my left ear.

 

There’s a hollow feeling in my chest. I get it every time I lie to Neith and those I care for. In this case, I have heard about Invier. I was aware of his whereabouts even before she visited me last night. In my opinion, Invier can serve a much higher purpose than simply becoming the glue Nome Reffour needs to cement their control over the Group of Twenty.

 

Her face falls and for a brief moment, I second-guess my stance. My guts twist to see her disappointment.

 

“Something will come up Neat,” I rush to add. “He couldn't have fallen off the face of the earth.”

 

Her face becomes a dark frown and she lifts a cracker to her lips. “I’m worried something happened to him or maybe he just hates me so much he won't reach out to me.” Changing her mind, she puts the cracker back on the plate and pushes it away from her with a dejected sigh.

 

I mirror her sigh, only I do it inwardly. Neith always thinks everything is about her. “Or, it could be he’s worried about the threat from Adela and your father.”

 

She lets a few seconds pass, considering my suggestion. “You’re right. It is possible.”

 

I feel sorry for her. Neith must be overwhelmed by the lies she told the man she loves. Lies she felt necessary to achieve an ultimate goal. And here I am. A fellow liar. Nervous that my untruths will cost me much more than I think. Will I be able to bear the price?

 

“It was nice seeing Acri by your side last night.”

 

The distraction of her question would be a blessed one if it weren’t about Acri Parashar—scion to a transportation empire. His family owns Lotus Space and offers off-world transportation. It’s a lucrative business as Parashar ships shuttle every worker, every raw resource, and every processed product departing for the far reaches of the colonized planets. Mom can’t stand my reluctance to agree to a union with him. She tries to seem unbothered by my cold feet but I know she’s not happy.

 

Acri himself is a pleasure to be around. He's been good to me. Sadly, my feelings for him are not romantic.

 

All the courting won’t matter very soon. Not with the plans I have in store.

 

“Acri is fine, thanks.” I shove a cracker and a hefty piece of cheese in my mouth.

 

“He’s better than fine, Bel. Some girls consider him the second best looking man after Lance Singer.” She sips her pomrose juice. “Your kids would be stunning. Oh, and his family will always have high earning potential.” Glass still in her right hand, she takes another sip.

 

“Yup.” I agree halfheartedly because that’s easier than another argument even though her shallow sentiments are irritating. I’m more interested in being with someone who will accept me for who I am.

 

“This is the pilot speaking.” A voice floods the cabin. “Arbiter Reffour, Dogenne Mezan and all other passengers aboard Reffour Industries flight seven-two-three for Tangor, please return to your seats and buckle up.”

 

In a blink of an eye, the table of food is whisked away.

 

Neith straps in and asks, “What’s going on?”

 

The closest soldier says, “There's a missile approaching the ship, Dogenne.” He speaks so casually as if the prospect of imminent death is nothing more than a declaration of a sunny day on the weather forecast.

 

“What?” Neith and I exclaim simultaneously.

 

As my mind tries to come to terms with what I just heard, I notice the soldier’s strange eyes. They appear to be a weird metallic gray. He must be one of Uncle Nabo’s Phalanx units. I didn’t get a good look at them on the night of the attack because I passed out from my injuries.

 

Neith unbuckles and leaps out of her seat, marching, with her nose in the air, toward the cockpit.

 

The same soldier blocks her path and says, “Arbiter, you must buckle up as evasive maneuvers are underway. There is a high probability not being properly secured will result in injury for yourself and others on this vessel.”

 

“Please sit, Neith.” I coax her back down, my mouth drying with every passing second. What sort of missile could be heading our way?

 

She grumbles under her breath as she returns to her seat and I use the opportunity to ask, “AI?”

 

A terse nod is all I get as confirmation.

 

I take a closer look around the cabin and notice other AI soldiers. It never crossed my mind to think some of the uniformed men and women on the ship were anything but human. Now I realize the non-humans are obvious. While each has a unique face, they all have the metallic irises.

 

They also sit stiffly; unlike the human soldiers whose bodies are in constant motion even though they are strapped into their seats. The heads of the human soldiers swivel from side to side seeking out danger. Their eyes blink rapidly and they speak nervously to their fellow humans.

 

A loud pinging makes me jump within my constraints. It is shrill and continuous. Neith, myself and the other humans on board hold our hands to our ears, faces contorted in discomfort.

 

Not so for our fellow AI passengers. Their hearing appears unaffected as they sit still, blinking slowly.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize in advance, but must warn you that it's going to be a rough ride.” The pilot lets out a dry cough. “There’s a heat seeker gaining on us. I will try to avoid it with flares. Please, remain calm.”

 

Neith and I look at each other, eyes wide in disbelief. A few seconds ago, we were on our way to meet with Reffour employees in Tangor and convince them to get back to work. Now, we are confined to a flying metal box that's trying to swerve out of death's clutches.

 

An explosion outside the ship has us rattling in our seats like rag dolls. My heart jumps to my throat. I’m suddenly alerted to another distinction between us humans and our artificial versions—they all stay still despite the extreme agitation.

 

The ship descends sharply and my body lurches upward. Fortunately, my seatbelt keeps me from flying up to the ceiling. Zipping up through clouds, the ship veers to the left and momentum shoves me to the right.

 

I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.

 

The words repeat in my head, only ceasing when there’s another explosion, this time much closer than the last one. Neith screams and our hands find each other. We hold onto one another desperately hoping the pandemonium ends.

 

A series of rapid explosions have both Neith and me howling in terror. I clamp my eyes shut. This is not happening!

 

An unexpected quiet soon settles over the ship and our whimpering tapers off. When the pilot speaks, I realize I had been holding my breath.

 

“Looks like we have cleared the troublesome area, ladies and gentlemen. Please accept my apologies for the bumpy ride but I didn’t know rebels would be active in this area with surface-to-air missiles. I have alerted global air security.”

 

Dread fills Neith’s eyes. “Where would they have gotten such weapons from?”

 

A human soldier runs past us to the restrooms and a second later, the sounds of an upset stomach fill the cabin.

 

Two AIs follow and Neith asks her question again.

 

This time, it is answered by a female AI unit sitting in the next aisle to her left. “It is possible they found a long-lost cache of weapons, Arbiter.”

 

“That's impossible.” Neith twists her mouth to the side, thinking. “All such weapons should have been destroyed centuries ago during the Disarmament. At least it’s what they taught us in school, right?”

 

Still fighting to catch my breath, all I can do is nod. I think back to what I know about the period known as the Disarmament. As a child, we were told most pre-Nome society weaponry was hunted down and destroyed, so as to limit the ways we humans could destroy each other and the planet.

 

“Yes, Arbiter, all weapons should have been found.” Neith and I turn our attention back to the AI. “Sadly, given the number of weapons across the planet, it is possible some weapons escaped the Weapon Sweep of 2109. The rebels must have acquired some.”

 

Neith’s hazel-gray burn in my direction. “Do you have something nice to say about them now?” she growls.

 

“What?” I breathe out.

 

“Your rebels!”

 

There's nothing I can say, even if I really wanted to. I still need to breathe.

 

At the front of the cabin, a flurry of movement amongst the AIs catches my attention. They gather in a straight line as if answering a call only they can hear.

 

The pilot's voice echoes through the cabin again.

 

“Please return to your seats. All units, protect the Arbiter ...” He pauses and I hope he’s about to tell us he made a mistake. Sadly, the next two words make my heart still. “Incoming missile!”