Chapter Thirteen

Neith

 

“Check to make sure you are securely fastened,” the pilot says and I get lightheaded. All the delicious food I ate is threatening to come back up.

 

“The ship’s door will open soon. I need all humans buckled up.” The pilot yells.

 

With a quick tug on my seatbelt, I check I’m strapped in tightly. There’s little more for me to do than hope we make it out of this nightmare. Beside me, Bel’s eyes are shut and she’s muttering to herself. Words I can’t hear. I do hope they include her telling herself how stupid she’s been for thinking anything these rebels do makes sense.

 

Bel and I are cocooned within a circle of eight Phalanx units. The rest of them form a line at the door.

 

“What are they doing?” Bel asks and I can hear the terror in her voice.

 

I’m tempted to stay quiet for fear I’ll hear the same alarm in mine. Father will not be pleased to learn I bawled my head off earlier. Not with my underlings present. It’s a sign of weakness to show fear in front of underlings. A long-forgotten lesson from Father floats into my consciousness. I never thought I’d have to lead anyone so soon but now we have squadrons of soldiers and I must be brave.

 

Swallowing my dread, I say, “The pilot is going to open the cabin door.” My voice quivers and I inhale deeply to control my emotions. “I assume the Phalanx units will act as decoys for any nearby missiles.” My heart is pounding too quickly and I grip onto the arms of my seat, locking every joint in place as if such an action will achieve anything if we're blown to bits.

 

“Wait,” Bel grasps my wrist, her nails digging into my skin. “I thought he said he’d use flares. Why does he need more decoys?”

 

That’s a good question and I’m stumped for an answer. I share my best guess. “Maybe we’ve run out of flares and the units will stop the bombs manually in some way.”

 

I glance at the units lined at the door. Human soldiers would never be able to hop out of a plane to disarm a moving missile. We’ll be able to use this as a selling point to the other nomes when this is over. If I survive. A unit types away at a panel by the door. It’s still tapping when another unit at the back steps out of line and walks forward.

 

The soldier from the back wrenches the forearm of the first, hauling it away from the panel. The others stand there with no visible reaction.

 

“Now what?” From her exasperated tone, I can tell my best friend just wants this flight to be over. As do I.

 

While the second AI continues holding the first in place, a third Phalanx unit steps up to the panel and taps buttons.

 

Sweat beads at my temples.

 

The AI from the back lets go of the one he was holding and rushes to grab the hand of the new soldier working at the panel. Something doesn’t look right about this.

 

“First Officer Amla, I need a status report on the door. We need it open right now.” The pilot says.

 

A female soldier unstraps from her seat and taps her comm. “It appears the Phalanx units are having a—”

 

Another unit breaks formation and grabs First Officer Amla by the neck, lifting her off her feet.

 

Her face purples as she claws at the unit’s hands.

 

“Neith?” Bel’s voice is a whimper and I start to unbuckle but one of the AIs surrounding us places a firm hand on my shoulder, holding me in place.

 

“Please do not leave your seat, Scioness. Doing so will reduce the likelihood of your safety,” it says in a measured tone.

 

Flinging off the hand, I unbuckle anyway and stand to look into the eyes of the unit that spoke to me. “Was that a threat?”

 

“Absolutely not, Scioness,” the unit replies, coolly. “I am programmed to protect you at all costs, and as such, must recommend you stay seated and buckled up.”

 

“Neith, do something, it’s killing her.”

 

First Officer Amla gasps for air. Some of her fellow officers struggle to pry the AI’s hands off her but they are no match for its strength.

 

At the ship’s door, AIs are silently wrestling each other. Have the AI units been hacked in some way? Are they malfunctioning? No. This has to do with the problem Dr. Evander highlighted earlier. Units refusing to obey commands.

 

The entire scene is maddening and I’ve had enough.

 

“What is your unit number?” I ask the AI unit closest to me.

 

“4232016.”

 

“You and the others are also programmed to obey my orders, correct?”

 

“Yes, Arbiter.”

 

“Then do something about all that!” I thrust a finger at the front section of the ship.

 

No sooner are the words spoken than three of our personal guards descend on the confusing melee. One frees First Officer Amla and subdues the attacking unit by clenching its neck. It taps a flesh-colored button at the nape of its neck. The unit goes limp and is pushed down by the other AI. It falls to the floor beside the First Officer who scurries as far away as she can and is quickly aided by other human soldiers.

 

The other two units that left my side have separated the fighting AIs by the door, shutting them off as well. Both droop, standing still. The female unit I spoke with about the Disarmament completes the override code at the door and Bel tugs me into my seat.

 

“You need to buckle up, Neith. I think the door is going to be opened after all.”

 

I buckle in at the exact moment the door flies open. Two human soldiers not in their seats are sucked out the door by the sudden pressure change. Their shrieks soon swallowed by the rushing air.

 

First Officer Amla would have joined the unfortunate men if not because Unit 4232016 caught her as she sailed by. The unit fastens her into an empty seat before stomping to my side to complete the circle around Bel and me.

 

Lucky AIs. They have gravity enablers in their suits and shoes to always keep them grounded so the pressure change has no impact on them.

 

A biting wind crushes into the cabin whipping everything not held down upward and out the door. The frigid gust sends my teeth rattling and I clench my jaw. Hands find my seat belt buckle and grasp it.

 

One of the AI units in line goes around the two deactivated ones and walks to the cabin door. It pauses and then steps out, dropping into the blue and white void.

 

Only when there’s an explosion below do I realize what the Phalanx soldiers are doing. They are acting as flares to draw the missiles away from the ship. They are protecting us.

 

No. They are keeping me safe.

 

A missile zooms into focus at a window to my left and Bel points at it, shrieking. Her eyes are widened with dread. Conscious to not repeat my early folly, I hold back from hollering out loud in terror as my breathing becomes irregular and I’m forced to gasp for air. The wind continues to slam my face throwing my hair into my eyes and my mouth. I’m frozen with fright and can’t address my strands. My hands hold onto the harness buckle. Another unit steps out and the missile arcs downward. I dig my feet into the floor, bracing for the aftershock.

 

“There’s another one coming!”

 

Bel alerts us all to another missile which is coming on our right. Its red tip races angrily in our direction. My silent outcry threatens to become audible and I wipe my clammy palms across my thighs, begging the universe to be on my side in this moment.

 

Something small flies past us. It’s another Phalanx unit. The missile veers off in pursuit and an explosion is heard from far away.

 

One by one, units leave the ship. Their departure is soon followed by an explosion. Some are closer than others, but the ship steadily creates distance between itself and any trailing menace.

 

Eventually, there are no longer any AIs in line by the door. There are no longer any explosions either.

 

Unit 4232016 walks to the wall panel and punches in a code sealing the door. Once I hear the lock click, I dare to breathe a sigh of relief but don’t feel better. I’m going to need the rest of the day to expel the tension built over the last thirty or so minutes.

 

“We are going back to Ekebati, Arbiter.” The pilot announces. The strain with which he speaks only causes those feelings of distress to deepen in me.

 

How will we make it home if rebels are intent to shoot us out of the sky?

 

I look around and count only ten remaining AIs. Eight standing around me, one disabled by the door, and another on the floor where it tried to kill First Officer Amla.

 

What if we need more flares? Are there enough units?

 

Tired of wondering, I unbuckle myself and march over to the cockpit. This time, Unit 4232016 does nothing to stop me. Bel is right behind me when I burst in.

 

“I need an explanation!”

 

The pilot angles his face from his panel. He looks haggard. His raven hair is a tousled mess and sweat stains the underarms of his shirt.

 

I immediately feel bad for raising my voice at him. This man probably had it worse than me. However, I learned a hard lesson about apologizing to staff a long time ago. Courtesy of Father. It's not a mistake I will repeat, particularly not under these circumstances where I already showed fear.

 

“Apologies, Arbiter, but the rebels have been very active in the last hour.” The pilot’s hands tremble as he wipes a curtain of sheen off his brow. “I am also sad to say a ship carrying family members of Nome Sirou was blown out of the sky.”

 

I give Bel as dirty a look as I can muster before heading back to my seat. But not before I yell, “Hope your rebels have made you very proud.”